Even the weather seemed to be celebrating; as June approached, the days became cloudless and sultry, and all anybody felt like doing was strolling onto the grounds and flopping down on the grass with several pints of iced pumpkin juice, perhaps playing a casual game of Gobstones or watching the giant squid propel itself dreamily across the surface of the lake.

You haven't got a letter on yours," George observed. "I suppose she thinks you don't forget your name. But we're not stupid-we know we're called Gred and Forge.

If only the hat had mentioned a house for people who felt a bit queasy, that would have been the one for him.

You don't know what I'm capable of, you don't know what I've done!

Why had he never appreciated the miracle that he was, brain and nerve and bounding heart?

I’m not a freak. That’s a horrible thing to say." "That’s where you’re going. A special school for freaks. You and that Snape boy ... weirdos, that’s what you two are..." "You didn’t think it was such a freak’s school when you wrote the headmaster and begged him to take you.

Where do vanished objects go?" "Into nonbeing, which is to say, everything," replied Professor McGonagall. "Nicely phrased," replied the eagle door knocker, and the door swung open.