Seventeen, eh!" said Hagrid as he accepted a bucket-sized glass of wine from Fred. "Six years to the day we met, Harry, d’yeh remember it?" "Vaguely," said Harry, grinning up at him. "Didn’t you smash down the front door, give Dudley a pig’s tail, and tell me I was a wizard?" "I forge’ the details," Hagrid chortled.

Bless my soul,” whispered the old bartender, “Harry Potter . . . what an honor.

Imagination is ... the foundation of all invention and innovation.

Let my girls be Hermiones, rather than Pansy Parkinsons.

The dedication of this book is split seven ways: to Neil, to Jessica, to David, to Kenzie, to Di, to Anne, and to you, if you have stuck with Harry until the very end.

Be ruthless about protecting writing days.

To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.