‘Good idea,’ said Harry. ‘Well ... see you later, then, Hagrid.’
‘Girls don't often ask questions like that,’ said Hermione.
Certainly,--and we make no attempt to dissimulate the fact,-- the observing physiologist would have beheld an irremediable misery; he would, perchance, have pitied this sick man, of the law's making; but he would not have even essayed any treatment; he would have turned aside his gaze from the caverns of which he would have caught a glimpse within this soul, and, like Dante at the portals of hell, he would have effaced from this existence the word which the finger of God has, nevertheless, inscribed upon the brow of every man,--hope.
“Read it!” he hissed evilly, brandishing the letter the owl had delivered. “Go on - read it!”