Potter has done too much for me for me to ever want to shit all over it. I’m never going to say: ‘Don’t ask me questions about that’. I remember reading an interview with Robert Smith from The Cure. Somebody said to him: ‘Why do you still wear all that makeup, don’t you feel a bit past it?’ And he said: ‘There are still 14-year-olds coming to see The Cure for the first time, dressed like that. I’d never want to make them feel silly.’ It’s a similar thing with Potter. People are still discovering those books and films. It would be awful for them to find out the people involved had turned their backs on it. Though sometimes, people do come up and say ‘I loved you in The Woman in Black,’ which is really sweet. That’s them knowing that it matters to me that I’ve done other stuff.
The last trace of steam evaporated in the autumn air. The train rounded a corner. Harry’s hand was still raised in farewell. “He’ll be all right,” murmured Ginny. As Harry looked at her, he lowered his hand absentmindedly and touched the lightning scar on his forehead. “I know he will.” The scar had not pained Harry for nineteen years. All was well.
“Harry — I think I’ve just understood something! I’ve got to go to the library!” And she sprinted away, up the stairs. “What does she understand?” said Harry distractedly, still looking around, trying to tell where the voice had come from. “Loads more than I do,” said Ron, shaking his head. “But why’s she got to go to the library?” “Because that’s what Hermione does,” said Ron, shrugging. “When in doubt, go to the library.”
Bowtruckles are tiny creatures made of sticks and leaves. They protect trees and are known to try to gouge the eyes out of anyone trying to cut down their home. However, Bowtruckles can be distracted from protecting their trees if you offer them some insects to eat. The Ministry of Magic classifies these creatures as harmless, and that’s why Newt is often able to carry Pickett the Bowtruckle in his pocket.