Funny Face, 1957








Harry lost any sense of where they were: Streetlights above him, yells around him, he was clinging to the sidecar for dear life. Hedwig’s cage, the Firebolt, and his rucksack slipped from beneath his knees —
“No — HEDWIG!”
The broomstick spun to earth, but he just managed to seize the strap of his rucksack and the top of the cage as the motorbike swung the right way up again. A second’s relief, and then another burst of green light. The owl screeched and fell to the floor of the cage.
“No — NO!”
The motorbike zoomed forward; Harry glimpsed hooded Death Eaters scattering as Hagrid blasted through their circle.
“Hedwig — Hedwig —”
But the owl lay motionless and pathetic as a toy on the floor of her cage.




lady-arryn:

asoiaf houses meme: [2/3] places

D o r n e  had seemed a queer place to him as well when first he came here with his own princess, many years ago. The bearded priests had drilled him on the Common Speech of Westeros before they sent him forth, but the Dornishmen all spoke too quickly for him to understand. Dornish women were lewd, Dornish wine was sour, and Dornish food was full of queer hot spices. And the Dornish sun was hotter than the pale, wan sun of Norvos, glaring down from a blue sky day after day.



❝Has it ever struck you … that life is all memory, except for the one present moment that goes by you so quickly you hardly catch it going? It’s really all memory … except for each passing moment.❞
Eric Kandel, “In Search of Memory: The Emergence of a New Science of Mind”  (via mercurieux) —