As our listeners will know, unless they've taken refuge at the bottom of a garden pond or somewhere similar, You-Know-Who's strategy of remaining in the shadows is creating a nice little climate of panic.

The scar had not pained Harry for nineteen years. All was well.

We let off a Dungbomb in the corridor and it upset him for some reason—" "So he hauled us off to his office and started threatening us with the usual—" "—detention—" "—disembowelment—

We touch other people's lives simply by existing.

There was a lot more to magic, as Harry quickly found out, than waving your wand and saying a few funny words.

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.

I knew Ginny was lying about that tattoo.