There is an expiry date on blaming your parents for steering you in the wrong direction; the moment you are old enough to take the wheel, responsibility lies with you.

I’ll make Goyle do lines, it’ll kill him, he hates writing,” said Ron happily. He lowered his voice to Goyle’s low grunt and, screwing up his face in a look of pained concentration, mimed writing in midair. “I... must... not... look... like... a... baboon’s... backside.

Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic far beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!

Yes, there are parallels. The difference is that I just look at [my son] David and think that he's absolutely perfect, whereas you look at the finished book and you think, 'Oh, damn it, I should have changed that.' You're never happy. Whereas with a baby, you're happy. If you've got a perfect baby, you're just grateful.

I pay a lot of tax, and I feel, one of the reasons I stay and pay why I'm not based in Monaco... I think my country helped me.

Hagrid howled still more loudly. Harry and Hermione looked at Ron to help them. 'Er-shall I make a cup of tea?' said Ron. Harry stared at him. 'It's what my mum does whenever someone's upset,' Ron muttered, shrugging.

I feel 80% of my life is completely normal.