I thought it sounded a bit like Percy singing... maybe you've got to attack him while he's in the shower, Harry.

Does it hurt?" The childish question had escaped Harry's lips before he could stop it. "Dying? Not at all," said Sirius. "Quicker and easier than falling asleep.

I seem to remember telling you both that I would have to expel you if you broke any more school rules,” said Dumbledore. Ron opened his mouth in horror. “Which goes to show that the best of us must sometimes eat our words,” Dumbledore went on, smiling.

They heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the doormat. "Get the mail, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper. "Make Harry get it." "Get the mail, Harry." "Make Dudley get it." "Poke him with your Smelting stick, Dudley.

I hope that even if you remember not a single word of mine, you remember those of Seneca, another of those old Romans I met when I fled down the Classics corridor, in retreat from career ladders, in search of ancient wisdom: As is a tale, so is life: not how long it is, but how good it is, is what matters.

Writing for me is a kind of compulsion, so I don't think anyone could have made me do it, or prevented me from doing it.

Autumn seemed to arrive suddenly that year. The morning of the first September was crisp and golden as an apple.