Fawkes Is A Phoenix, Harry. Phoenixes Burst

Don’t Put Your Wand There, Boy! ... Better Wizards Than You Have Lost Buttocks, You Know!

He Might Have Been Encased In A Thick Glass Bubble, So Separate Did He Feel From His Three Dining Companions. It Was A Sensation With Which He Was Only Too Familiar, That Of Walking In A Giant Sphere Of Worry, Enclosed By It, Watching His Own Terrors Roll By, Obscuring The Outside World.

Perhaps Just One More, Master Harry, For Luck?

He Had No Memory Of Ever Being Hugged Like This, As Though By A Mother. The Full Weight Of Everything He Had Seen That Night Seemed To Fall In Upon Him As Mrs. Weasley Held Him To Her. His Mother's Face, His Father's Voice, The Sight Of Cedric, Dead On The Ground All Started Spinning In His Head Until He Could Hardly Bear It, Until He Was Screwing Up His Face Against The Howl Of Misery Fighting To Get Out Of Him.

Well You Seemed Too Busy To Call Him A Prat And I Thought Someone Should.