[about his dress robes...] I’m never wearing them," Ron was saying stubbornly. "Never." "Fine," snapped Mrs. Weasley. "Go naked. And, Harry, make sure you get a picture of him. Goodness knows I could do with a laugh.

The ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming.

HARRY, THIS IS NO TIME TO BE A GENTLEMAN!" Wood roared as Harry swerved to avoid collision. "KNOCK HER OFF HER BROOM IF YOU HAVE TO!

I’ll make Goyle do lines, it’ll kill him, he hates writing,” said Ron happily. He lowered his voice to Goyle’s low grunt and, screwing up his face in a look of pained concentration, mimed writing in midair. “I... must... not... look... like... a... baboon’s... backside.

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, if you've a ready mind, Where those of wit and learning, Will always find their kind.

No, I'm fine,' said Harry, wondering why he kept telling people this, and wondering whether he had ever been less fine.

Sukhvinder wished that she could be more like Krystal: funny and tough; impossible to intimidate; always coming out fighting.