Vot is the point of being an international Quidditch player if all the good-looking girls are taken?

And Percy was shaking his brother, and Ron was kneeling beside them, and Fred's eyes stared without seeing, the ghost of his last laugh still etched upon his face.

The thing about fantasy - there are certain things you just don't do in fantasy.

Why would I go looking for someone I know wants to kill me?

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.

The opportunity was too perfect to miss. Harry crept silently around behind Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, bent down, and scooped a large handful of mud out of the path. 'We were just talking about your friend Hagrid,' Malfoy said to Ron. 'Just trying to imagine what he's saying to the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. D'you think he'll cry when they cut off his hippogriff's—' SPLAT. Malfoy's head jerked back as the mud hit him; his silverblond hair was suddenly dripping in muck.

Fame is a fickle friend, Harry. Celebrity is as celebrity does. Remember that.