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“All this snow!” Hermione whispered beneath the cloak. “Why didn’t we think of snow?”
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Only here’s what I really, really want someone to explain to me. What if one happens to be possessed of a heart that can’t be trusted—? What if the heart, for its own unfathomable reasons, leads one willfully and in a cloud of unspeakable radiance away from health, domesticity, civic responsibility and strong social connections and all the blandly-held common virtues and instead straight toward a beautiful flare of ruin, self-immolation, disaster? Is Kitsey right? If your deepest self is singing and coaxing you straight toward the bonfire, is it better to turn away? Stop your ears with wax? Ignore all the perverse glory your heart is screaming at you? Set yourself on the course that will lead you dutifully towards the norm, reasonable hours and regular medical check-ups, stable relationships and steady career advancement, the New York Times and brunch on Sunday, all with the promise of being somehow a better person? Or—like Boris—is it better to throw yourself head first and laughing into the holy rage calling your name?
— THE GOLDFINCH, Donna Tartt.
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@hogwartsonline yearbook | draco malfoy
“It is exceptionally lonely, being Draco Malfoy. I will always be suspected. There is no escaping the past.” // @dracoluciusmalfoys
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The goblin stroked the sword, and his black eyes roved from Harry, to Hermione, to Ron and then back again. ‘So young,’ he said finally, ‘to be fighting so many.’
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@hogwartsonline | hogwarts is home
“It is round and earthy and low-ceilinged; it always feels sunny, and its circular windows have a view of rippling grass and dandelions.
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