Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory.

Harry is the best hope we have. Trust him.

Hermione drew herself to her full height; her eyes were narrowed and her hair seemed to crackle with electricity. "No," she said, her voice quivering with anger, "but I will write to your mother.

You need your Inner Eye tested, if you ask me.

Where is Wood?" said Harry, suddenly realizing he wasn't there. "Still in the showers," said Fred. "We think he's trying to drown himself.

In fact, you couldn't give me anything to make me go back to being a teenager. Never. No, I hated it.

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—