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.

He never seemed to grasp the immense mutability of human nature, nor to appreciate that behind every nondescript face lay a wild and unique hinterland like his own.

Mr. Weasley was unavailable for comment, although his wife told reporters to clear off or she'd set the family ghoul on them.

The presence of hundreds of books had finally convinced Hermione that what they were doing was right.

Your hair is much too long, Ronald, for a moment I thought you were Ginevra.

It is not about striving for immortality, but about accepting mortality.

A bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. "You want to be careful with those," Ron warned Harry. "When they say every flavor, they mean every flavor - you know, you get all the ordinary ones like chocolate and peppermint and marmalade, but then you can get spinach and liver and tripe. George reckons he had a booger-flavored one once." Ron picked up a green bean, looked at it carefully, and bit into a corner. "Bleaaargh - see? Sprouts.