Nice one, James

“Are you sure you don’t want me to help you look for your stuff?” he said. “Oh no,” said Luna. “No, I think I’ll just go down and have some pudding and wait for it all to turn up…It always does in the end….Well, have a nice holiday, Harry.” “Yeah…yeah, you too.” She walked away from him, and as he watched her go, he found that the terrible weight in his stomach seemed to have lessened slightly.

The very first time I saw you Harry, I recognized you immediately. Not by your scar, by your eyes. They’re your mother; Lily’s. Yes, I knew her. You mother was there for me at a time when no one else was. Not only was she a singularly gifted witch, she was also an uncommonly kind woman. She had a way of seeing the beauty in others, even, and perhaps most especially, when that person couldn’t see it in themselves. Your father, James, however, had a certain, shall we say, talent for trouble. A talent, rumor has it, he passed onto you. You’re more like them then you know, Harry. In time you’ll come to see just how much.