The entire female population swooned at Sirius Black's feet. Dennis wondered whether one had to endure a twelve year stint in Azkaban to accrue that kind of reaction.

Making his way through the debris, he kicked a stray piece of fruit, watching as it squelched against the table leg, red juices dripping from its flesh. It was over now – the war was won.

Lavender meets a masked stranger at the Parkinson's Spring Ball. She must guess his name, and it's not Rumpelstiltskin.

She cried at the futility of war.