He was going to be armed with his wand - which, just now, felt like nothing more than a narrow strip of wood - against a fifty-foot-high, scaly, spike-ridden, fire-breathing dragon.

How do you feel, Georgie?" whispered Mrs. Weasley. George's fingers groped for the side of his head. "Saintlike," he murmured. "What's wrong with him?" croaked Fred, looking terrified. "Is his mind affected?" "Saintlike," repeated George, opening his eyes and looking up at his brother. "You see...I'm HOLEY, Fred, geddit?

Yes, well, principles are sometimes the problem, if you ask me,' said Miles. 'Often what's needed is a bit of common sense.' 'Which is the name people usually give to their prejudices,' rejoined Kay.

Poverty is a lot like childbirth - you know it is going to hurt before it happens, but you'll never know how much until you experience it.

Choose what to believe. He wanted the truth. Why was everybody so determined that he should not get it.

There is no point in apportioning blame. What is done, is done.

Harry Potter was a highly unusual boy in many ways.