She's as nutty as squirrel poo.

Would you like me to [kill you] now?" asked Snape, his voice heavy with irony. "Or would you like a few moments to compose an epitaph?

I don't think about who the audience is for my books.

You never get it right, you people, do you? Either we've got Fudge, pretending everything's lovely while people get murdered right under his nose, or we've got you, chucking the wrong people into jail and trying to pretend you've got 'The Chosen One' working for you!

Pity you can't attach an extra arm to your [broom], Malfoy. Then it could catch the Snitch for you.

All those poor elves I haven’t set free yet, having to stay over during Christmas because there aren’t enough hats!

The fridge had been emptied of all Dudley’s favorite things — fizzy drinks and cakes, chocolate bars and burgers — and filled instead with fruit and vegetables and the sorts of things that Uncle Vernon called “rabbit food.