Every hour that passed added to her grief, because it bore her further away from the living man, and because it was a tiny foretaste of the eternity she would have to spend without him.

As Harry and Ron rounded the clump of trees behind which Harry had first heard the dragons roar, a witch leapt out from behind them. It was Rita Skeeter. She was wearing acid-green robes today; the Quick-Quotes Quill in her hand blended perfectly against them. "Congratulations, Harry!' she said beaming at him. "I wonder if you could give me a quick word? How you felt facing that dragon? How do you feel now about the fairness of the scoring?" "Yeah, you can have a word," said Harry savagely. "Goodbye!

I was supposed to be waiting up here when you got back, only your Phoenix lot got in the way...” “Yes, they do that,” said Dumbledore.

I just hate meetings.

It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs.

Many prefer not to exercise their imaginations at all. They choose to remain comfortably within the bounds of their own experience, never troubling to wonder how it would feel to have been born other than they are.

Harry Potter has kindly joined us for my rebirthing party. One might go so far as to call him my guest of honor.