Harry Potter, “anh ta nói rất nhẹ nhàng. Giọng anh ta có thể là một phần của vụ cháy.” Cậu bé sống. “Không ai trong số những người ăn chết. , và Harry nghĩ không thể giải thích được về Ginny, và vẻ ngoài rực rỡ của cô ấy, và cảm giác trên đôi môi của cô ấy-Voldemort đã giơ đũa của anh ấy. . Không còn.
Harry Potter,” he said very softly. His voice might have been part of the spitting fire. “The Boy Who Lived.”None of the Death Eaters moved. They were waiting. Everything was waiting. Hagrid was struggling, and Bellatrix was panting, and Harry thought inexplicably of Ginny, and her blazing look, and the feel of her lips on his–Voldemort had raised his wand. His head was still tilted to one side, like a curious child, wondering what would happen if he proceeded. Harry looked back into the red eyes, and wanted it to happen now, quickly, while he could still stand, before he lost control, before he betrayed fear–He saw the mouth move and a flash of green light, and everything was gone.
J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows