The barman sidled toward them out of a back room. He was a grump-looking old man with a great deal of a long gray hair and a beard. He was tall and thin and looked vaguely familiar to Harry.

Oh you is a bad elf, Dobby!

Be good now, Potty...Weasel King.

He gave everything to everybody. Except to me.

If you don’t like to read, you haven’t found the right book.

We must try not to sink beneath our anguish, Harry, but battle on.

I'm not writing to make anyone's children feel safe.