I just wondered where you —” Ron broke off, shrugging. “Nothing. I’m going back to bed.” “Just thought you’d come nosing around, did you?” Harry shouted. He knew that Ron had no idea what he’d walked in on, knew he hadn’t done it on purpose, but he didn’t care — at this moment he hated everything about Ron, right down to the several inches of bare ankle showing beneath his pajama trousers.

Your hair is much too long, Ronald, for a moment I thought you were Ginevra.

It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs.

Utiliza el nombre correcto para las cosas. El miedo a un nombre aumenta el miedo a la cosa que se nombra.

Ron: Why spiders? Why couldn't it be "follow the butterflies?

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.

Parry Otter, the Chosen Boy Who - well - something of that sort.