I’ll tell them how I survive it. I’ll tell them that on bad mornings, it feels impossible to take pleasure in anything because I’m afraid it can be taken away. That’s when I make a list in my head of every act of goodness I’ve seen someone do. It’s like a game. Repetitive. Even a little tedious after more than twenty years. But there are much worse games to play.
“Remember, if the time should come, when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory.”
Your pal Diggory, by your age he could turn a whistle into a watch and have it sing you the time. Miss Delacour, she’s as much a fairy princess as I am. As for Krum, his head may be filled with sawdust, but Karkaroff’s is not.