Summary: I would never fully understand what went through his mind after Voldemort's defeat, never fully comprehend how his joy could have transformed so quickly into melancholy. But even so, I knew that I would always love him.
Summary: She had always noticed him. Him, with his sleek hair and posh manners, his upturned nose and poignant eyes, and trademark smirk of his. She had always hated him. Hated the way he hated her and her kind, hated the way he could be so smart and yet couldn't see past his family’s preconceived notions of right and wrong. He was a bad boy with a sharp mind – the kind of kid she wouldn't usually have looked at twice.
Summary: My eyes do not speak of my namesake like they should. For fifteen generations, black eyes had become one of the many trademarks of my powerful family. Black, they said, was pure and undiluted, just like their blood, and, as such, those opaque eyes became a point of pride in my family. But I had grey eyes. And those grey stormy eyes of mine marked me as different from the day I was born. They were a watered-down black, just like I was.
Summary: Throughout the generations, the ringing of bells has marked funerals and weddings alike. This one-shot is a glimpse of bells: what they have gone through and everything they affect, for ordinary things can often have a more-than-ordinary impact. "He wondered why the bells were so sad today, wondered why the bells wanted to ring such a sorrowful message on such a bright, sunny day; he wondered, but he would never know."