Bad news, Harry. I've just been to see Professor McGonagall about the Firebolt. She – er, got a bit shirty with me. Told me I'd got my priorities wrong. Seemed to think I cared more about winning the Cup than I do about staying alive. Just because I told her I didn't care if it threw you off, as long as you caught the Snitch first.

You're the one who is weak. You will never know love or friendship. And I feel sorry for you.

The knowledge that you have emerged wiser and stronger from setbacks means that you are, ever after, secure in your ability to survive. You will never truly know yourself, or the strength of your relationships, until both have been tested by adversity. Such knowledge is a true gift, for all that it is painfully won, and it has been worth more than any qualification I ever earned.

The poor are discussed as this homogeneous mash, like porridge. The idea that they might be individuals, and be where they are for very different, diverse reasons, again seems to escape some people.

I believe in hard work and luck, and that the first often leads to the second

I know [Umbridge] by reputation and I'm sure she's no Death Eater-" "She's foul enough to be one..." "Yes, but the world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters.

Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain.