“Does it make a difference, being Muggle-born?”
Snape hesitated. His black eyes, eager in the greenish-gloom, moved over the pale face, the dark red hair.
“No,” he said. “It doesn’t make any difference.”
“Good,” said Lily, relaxing: It was clear that she had been worrying.
“You’ve got loads of magic,” said Snape. “I saw that. All the time I was watching you…”
His voice trailed away; she was not listening, but had stretched out on the leafy ground and was looking up at the canopy of leaves overhead.


O tempo ensina. Ensina a gente a não ser otário, e não confiar em todo mundo.