Every second he breathed, the smell of the grass, the cool air on his face, was so precious: To think that people had years and years, time to waste, so much time it dragged, and he was clinging to each second.

It’s your one last chance,” said Harry, “it’s all you’ve got left. . . .I’ve seen what you’ll be otherwise. . . . Be a man . . . try . . . Try for some remorse. . . .

We teachers are rather good at magic, you know.

Hermione: You! You foul, loathsome, evil little cocroach! Ron: Hermione, no! He's no worth it.

I hope you're pleased with yourselves. We could all have been killed - or worse, expelled. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to bed.

What's that supposed to be anyway?" said Fred squinting at Dobby's painting. "Looks like a Gibbon with two black eyes!" "It's Harry," said George pointing at the back of the picture. "Says so on the back." "Good likeness," said Fred grinning. Harry threw his new homework diary at him.

Ooh, you look much tastier than Crabbe and Goyle, Harry" said Hermione, before catching sight of Ron's raised eyebrows, blushing slightly and saying "oh you know what I mean - Goyle's Potion looked like bogies.