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 knew Ginny was lying about that tattoo.

Harry looked down and saw deep green mountains and lakes, coppery in the sunset.

They were the reason that he kept faith with his stars, that reinforced him in his belief that the universe had more in store for him than the mug's game of working for a modest salary until he retired or died.

I've wanted to be an author as long as I can remember. English was always my favorite subject at school, so why I went on to do a degree in French is anyone's guess.

There appears to be something to do with vehicles and movement that stimulates my writing.

How in the name of Merlin's pants have you managed to get your hands on those Horcrux books?