There's so much between fifteen and twenty. There's loads, Harry. [That seems profound. Was that profound? Was it even coherent? He is very drunk.

He lazily bats at James' hand. No scratching, you arse]

Nice knowing you, Prongs. Died doing what he loved, which was doing things he knew would piss off Lily Evans. [Well, someone's brain-to-mouth filter has been obliterated.]