Get off me,” Harry spat, throwing Pettigrew’s hands off him in disgust. “I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it because — I don’t reckon my dad would’ve wanted them to become killers — just for you.
You’ll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.” He held out his hand to shake Harry’s, but Harry didn’t take it. “I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks,” he said coolly.
How thick can you get?
Friday was an important day for Harry and Ron. They finally managed to find their way down to the Great Hall without getting lost once.
I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather — just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother — why, its brother gave you that scar.
There,” she said softly. “Now he could be sleeping.
Yeah,' said Ron. 'Could've been worse. Remember those birds she set on me?' 'I still haven't ruled it out,' came Hermione's muffled voice from beneath her blankets, but Harry saw Ron smiling slightly as he pulled his maroon pajamas out of his rucksack.
You could be great, you know, it’s all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that.
Aha! What villains are these, that trespass upon my private lands! Come to scorn at my fall, perchance? Draw, you knaves, you dogs!
Professor Flitwick had dried himself off and set Seamus lines ("I am a wizard not a baboon brandishing a stick")
We'll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat!
I'm a what?" gasped Harry. "A wizard, o' course," said Hagrid, sitting back down on the sofa, which groaned and sank even lower, "an' a thumpin' good'un I'd say, once yeh've been trained up a bit. With a mum an' dad like yours, what else would yeh be?
My readers have to work with me to create the experience. They have to bring their imaginations to the story. No one sees a book in the same way, no one sees the characters the same way. As a reader you imagine them in your own mind. So, together, as author and reader, we have both created the story.
Maybe he murdered Myrtle; that would’ve done everyone a favor. . . .
Daddy, look — one of the gnomes actually bit me!
All's fair in love and war," said Ron brightly, "and this is a bit of both.
There you go, Harry!” Ron shouted over the noise. “You weren’t being thick after all — you were showing moral fiber!
The Ministry places a rather higher value on my life than yours, I’m afraid.
Don't count your owls before they are delivered.
He was about to go home, about to return to the place where he had had a family. It was in Godric’s Hollow that, but for Voldemort, he would have grown up and spent every school holiday. He could have invited friends to his house. . . . He might even have had brothers and sisters. . . . It would have been his mother who had made his seventeenth birthday cake. The life he had lost had hardly ever seemed so real to him as at this moment, when he knew he was about to see the place where it had been taken from him.
I will if you go out with me, Evans
The fact that you can feel pain like this is your greatest strength
Oh, he knows how to play, little bitty baby Potter.
It is not about striving for immortality, but about accepting mortality.
You need your Inner Eye tested, if you ask me.
