I scared Stephen King.

Harry witnessed Professor McGonagall walking right past Peeves who was determinedly loosening a crystal chandelier and could have sworn he heard her tell the poltergeist out of the corner of her mouth 'It unscrews the other way.

I love you, Hermione,” said Ron, sinking back, rubbing his eyes wearily. Hermione turned faintly pink, but merely said, “Don’t let Lavender hear you saying that.” “I won’t,” said Ron into his hands. “Or maybe I will . . . then she’ll ditch me . . .

The realization of what would happen next settled gradually over Harry in the long minutes, like softly falling snow. "I've got to go back, haven't I?" "That is up to you." "I've got a choice?" "Oh yes." Dumbledore smiled at him. "We are in King's Cross, you say? I think that if you decided not to go back, you would be able to…let's say…board a train." "And where would it take me?" "On," said Dumbledore simply.

'Tell me one last thing,' said Harry. 'Is this real? Or has this been happening inside my head?' Dumbledore beamed at him, and his voice sounded loud and strong in Harry's ears even though the bright mist was descending again, obscuring his figure. 'Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean it is not real?'

Am I about to discover where you, Ron, and Hermione disappeared to while you were supposed to be in the back room of Fred and George's shop?" How did you...?" Harry, please. You're talking to the man who raised Fred and George.

Extraordinary imagination, especially in a witch world. Also friendship.