What happened down in the dungeons between you and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret, so, naturally the whole school knows.

Muggles have garden gnomes, too, you know," Harry told Ron as they crossed the lawn. "Yeah, I've seen those things they think are gnomes," said Ron, bent double with his head in a peony bush, "like fat little Santa Clauses with fishing rods.

You're a wizard, Harry.

Sometimes you remind me a lot of James. He called it my 'furry little problem' in company. Many people were under the impression that I owned a badly behaved rabbit.

I was ripped from my body, I was less than spirit, less than the meanest ghost . . . but still, I was alive.

And all along the corridor the statues and suits of armor jumped down from their plinths, and from the echoing crashes from the floors above and below, Harry knew that their fellows throughout the castle had done the same.

There you go, Harry!” Ron shouted over the noise. “You weren’t being thick after all — you were showing moral fiber!