He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.

The barman sidled toward them out of a back room. He was a grump-looking old man with a great deal of a long gray hair and a beard. He was tall and thin and looked vaguely familiar to Harry.

Hermione, will you please —” “Don’t you tell me what to do, Harry Potter!” she screeched. “Don’t you dare! Give it back now! And YOU!” She was pointing at Ron in dire accusation: It was like a malediction, and Harry could not blame Ron for retreating several steps.

Be ruthless about protecting writing days....althoug h writing has been my actual job for several years now, I still seem to have to fight for time in which to do it.

Don't talk to me." "Why not?" "Because I want to fix that in my memory for ever. Draco Malfoy, the amazing bouncing ferret.

Yeah, size is no guarantee of power,” said George. “Look at Ginny.” “What d’you mean?” said Harry. “You’ve never been on the receiving end of one of her Bat-Bogey Hexes, have you?

Read a lot. Reading really helps. Read anything you can get your hands on.