Jane Austen is the pinnacle to which all other authors aspire.

I loved writing for kids, I loved talking to children about what I'd written, I don't want to leave that behind.

Christmas was coming. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban.

When we come face-to-face with one down a dark alley, we're going to be having a shufti to see if it's solid, aren't we, we're not going to be asking, 'Excuse me, are you the imprint of a departed soul?

I can't give a Professor love!

Oh, there you are, Albus,' he said. 'You've been a very long time. Upset stomach?' 'No, I was merely reading the Muggle magazines,' said Dumbledore. 'I do love knitting patterns.

How’s Norbert doin’?” Norbert?” Charlie laughed. “The Norwegian Ridgeback? We call her Norberta now.” Wha—Norbert’s a girl?