So Dobby stopped us from getting on the train and broke your arm. . . ." He shook his head. "You know what, Harry? If he doesn't stop trying to save your life he's going to kill you.

I just wondered where you —” Ron broke off, shrugging. “Nothing. I’m going back to bed.” “Just thought you’d come nosing around, did you?” Harry shouted. He knew that Ron had no idea what he’d walked in on, knew he hadn’t done it on purpose, but he didn’t care — at this moment he hated everything about Ron, right down to the several inches of bare ankle showing beneath his pajama trousers.

For some to love you, some must loathe you.

Magic has universal appeal. I don't believe in magic in the way that I describe in my books, but I'd love it to be real.

I'm very frustrated by fear of imagination. I don't think that's healthy.

I would always want printed books.

When I was in my teens I had issues with OCD.