Turn to page three hundred and ninety-four.

Wenn wir träumen, betreten wir eine Welt, die ganz und gar uns gehört. <3

Mischief Managed!!!

Hermione, if Harry’s seen a Grim, that’s — that’s bad,” he said.
“My — my uncle Bilius saw one and — and he died twenty-four hours later!”
“Coincidence,” said Hermione airily, pouring herself some pumpkin juice.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” said Ron, starting to get angry. “Grims scare the living daylights out of most wizards!”
“There you are, then,” said Hermione in a superior tone. “They see the Grim and die of fright. The Grim’s not an omen, it’s the cause of death! And Harry’s still with us because he’s not stupid enough to see one and think, right, well, I’d better kick the bucket then!

Hogsmeade looked like a Christmas card; the little thatched cottages and shops were all covered in a layer of crisp snow; there were holly wreaths on the doors and strings of enchanted candles hanging in the trees.

Killing rips the soul apart.