This notebook is the property of Luna Lovegood, and belongs solely to her. If you locate this notebook, belonging to Luna Lovegood, please return it to her as soon as possibly possible, because it is very special, and I use it to record my adventures looking for the Snorkack, which are most certainly out there, even though everyone else says I am wrong or delusional.

"According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way that a bee should be able to fly. Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground. The bee, of course, flies anyways. Because bees don't care what humans think is impossible."-Bee Movie

Love is watching someone die. Love is knowing that good-bye is not always forever. Love is knowing that some good-byes aren't always worth it, but you say it anyway.

Dean Longbottom is the middle child of Neville and Hannah Longbottom. Having recently discovered who he truly is, Dean is hesitant to share the truth with his family, unsure of how they will react to him. He knows he must be brave, though, and take that first step towards his new life. A trans* recognition tale for NextGen.

They buried a boy today, his family all gathered around in dark clothing. There was a minister-there's always a minister, because no one wants to bury family without God there to watch over-and everyone cried. Everyone always cries, and Daddy says I ought to get used to it, but I've lived on the edge of the graveyard my whole life and I can't ever get used to someone crying.

They had a swing set in the backyard. It was made up of slim metal bars, with three little plastic seats descending from silver chains. Albus seemed to spend the most time on it, begging Ginny to come out and push him, willing to forgo snacks and nap time if his mother would just take him outside so he could feel the strength in his little legs as they kicked against the ground.

Blood red: that was the colour of her hair as it spread over the floor, covering the cobblestone as she lay motionless. Too still to be alive, too calm to be breathing. Your breath hitches as you stare down at her red, red hair, and all you can think about is how glad you are it isn't you who is dead. Susan Bones lays spilled over the steps, and all you can do is stare at her

She was running. She was running, she was running. She was always running, feet pounding on stone, breath coming heavy and shallow in her lungs as she sprinted down one corridor and then another. She wanted to stop, wanted to pause, but there was only terror behind her, a terror she didn't want to face. She didn't want to turn around and see what was following her...

There was an uneasy silence filling up the air as Fay watched the two men step closer. They seemed to be arguing loudly about something-a girl, perhaps-and she could see clenched fists and angry faces; they looked about ready to fight, and Fay wanted nothing but to leave now, before things got too bad.

Susan Bones has forgotten nearly everything after a bad accident, and now it is up to her best friend Hannah to make everything right again.

I thought I knew her. I was wrong. I thought I knew the definition of love. I was wrong.

If there was one thing Su Li hated, it was being helped. She was a Ravenclaw, which meant she was supposed to be smart enough to carry herself in any lesson; she had to be intelligent enough to follow and understand any coursework she was given. She never, ever asked for help, no matter how much she needed it; Su was a Ravenclaw, and Ravenclaws were supposed to be smart...

Daphne is sore after a night of dancing awkwardly with her date.

Binky is the love of Lavender's life; she loves her bunny very much and can't imagine life without him.

If there was one thing that Oliver loved most in the world, it was flying.

Isn't it crazy how growing older isn't the same as growing up? Tomorrow, I will turn seventeen years old, yet I don't feel very prepared for this event that my mother absolutely swears is very important and most likely will change my life ter all, I turned sixteen last year and I was still just a tall, gangly girl with messy hair and bruised knuckles.

The Black cousins had all gathered around the radio to listen, while an American man cried of horrible, terrible things.

Lorcan paused on the top step of his third-storey apartment building, sighing with frustration and lifting a hand to feel the rain that had only begun to fall the second he stepped out his front door, like the sky itself was trying to mock him. Most likely the sky was trying to mock him, Lorcan thought to himself as he contemplated turning back for an umbrella.

Because they say that a soul is a terrible thing to waste, and the question would remain for years afterwards of just how many souls were lost that day. Because they say that a soul is a terrible thing to waste, but it is pretty clear that a large number of souls were never coming back home to where they belong. And nothing more is left.

One, who never expected to be a father at all. One, who never expected to take on the role of father so young. One, who isn't sure if he can be the best father his children deserve.