Aunt Petunia burst into tears. Hestia Jones gave her an approving look that changed to outrage as Aunt Petunia ran forward and embraced Dudley rather than Harry. 'S-so sweet, Dudders...' she sobbed into his massive chest. 'S-such a lovely b-boy...s-saying thank you...' 'But he hadn't said thank you at all!' said Hestia indignantly. 'He only said he didn't think Harry was a waste of space!' 'Yeah, but coming from Dudley that's like "I love you.

Devil’s Snare, Devil’s Snare . . . what did Professor Sprout say? — it likes the dark and the damp —” “So light a fire!” Harry choked. “Yes — of course — but there’s no wood!” Hermoine cried, wringing her hands. “HAVE YOU GONE MAD?” Ron bellowed. “ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT?

The inner eye does not see upon command.

Why, dear boy, we don't send wizards to Azkaban just for blowing up their aunts.

I'm very frustrated by fear of imagination. I don't think that's healthy.

The fame thing is interesting because I never wanted to be famous, and I never dreamt I would be famous.

Krystal flung herself violently off the chair, away from her mother. She was surprised to feel warm liquid flowing down her cheeks, and thought confusedly of blood, but it was tears, only tears, clear and shining on her fingertips when she wiped them away.