A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of.

Time to sit down," Fred told Harry, "Or we're going to get run over by the bride.

Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself.

Let my girls be Hermiones, rather than Pansy Parkinsons.

And all along the corridor the statues and suits of armor jumped down from their plinths, and from the echoing crashes from the floors above and below, Harry knew that their fellows throughout the castle had done the same.

Perhaps you have been looking in the wrong places.

He did not know or care whether they were wizards or Muggles, friends or foes; all he cared about was that a dark stain was spreading across Dobby's front, and that he had stretched out his thin arms to Harry with a look of supplication. Harry caught him and laid him sideways on the cool grass. "Dobby, no, don't die, don't die -" The elf's eyes found him, and his lips trembled with the effort to form words. "Harry...Potter..." And then with a little shudder the elf became quite still, and his eyes were nothing more than great glassy orbs, sprinkled with light from the stars they could not see.