I love inventing names, but I also collect unusual names, so that I can look through my notebook and choose one that suits a new character.

Twitchy little ferret, aren't you, Malfoy?

Hey, look — Harry’s got a Weasley sweater, too!” Fred and George were wearing blue sweaters, one with a large yellow F on it, the other a G. “Harry’s is better than ours, though,” said Fred, holding up Harry’s sweater. “She obviously makes more of an effort if you’re not family.

I have met thousands of children now, and not even one time has a child come up to me and said, 'Ms. Rowling, I'm so glad I've read these books because now I want to be a witch.'

I've no idea where ideas come from and I hope I never find out; it would spoil the excitement for me if it turned out I just have a funny little wrinkle on the surface of my brain which makes me think about invisible train platforms.

We did it, we bashed them wee Potter's the one, and Voldy's gone moldy, so now let's have fun!

But who could bear to know which stars were already dead, she thought, blinking up at the night sky; could anybody stand to know that they all were?