Dobby is a free elf, and Dobby has come to save Harry Potter and his friends!

She navigated away from the Parish Council message board and dropped into her favorite medical website, where she painstakingly entered the words "brain" and "death" in the search box. The suggestions were endless. Shirley scrolled through the possibilities, her mild eyes rolling up and down, wondering to which of these deadly conditions, some of them unpronounceable, she owed her present happiness.

Interesting theory. Has anyone ever tried sticking a sword in Voldemort? Maybe the Ministry should put some people onto that, instead of wasting their time stripping down Deluminators or covering up breakouts from Azkaban.

I like to get in among a set of people and get to know them very well.

Thing was' he faced them, and Harry was astonished to see that he was grinning, 'they bit of a bit more than they could chew with Gran. Little old witch living alone, they probably think they didn't need to send anyone particularly powerful. Anyway' Neville laughed, 'Dawlish is still in St Mungo's and Gran is on the run. She sent me a letter,' he clapped a hand to the breast pocket of his robes, 'telling me she was proud of me, that I'm my parents' son, and to keep it up

Merlin's pants!" shrieked Hermione, jumping up and running from the room. "Merlin's pants?" repeated Ron, looking amused. "She must be really upset.

THIRTY–ZERO! TAKE THAT, YOU DIRTY, CHEATING —” “Jordan, if you can’t commentate in an unbiased way — !” “I’m telling it like it is, Professor!