We let off a Dungbomb in the corridor and it upset him for some reason—" "So he hauled us off to his office and started threatening us with the usual—" "—detention—" "—disembowelment—

Ron, we're supposed to show the first years where to go!" "Oh yeah," said Ron, who had obviously forgotten. "Hey -- hey you lot! Midgets!

Failure is not fun. It can be awful. But living so cautiously that you never fail is worse.

I am the freest author in the world.

Longbottom, if brains were gold, you'd be poorer than Weasley, and that's saying something.

I do get recognized, but I must say Edinburgh is a fantastic city to live if you're well-known. There is an innate respect for privacy in Edinburgh people, and I also think they're used to seeing me walking around, so I don't think I'm a very big deal.

And Harry, with the unerring skill of the Seeker, caught the wand in his free hand as Voldemort fell backward, arms splayed, the slit pupils of the scarlet eyes rolling upward. Tom Riddle hit the floor with a mundane finality, his body feeble and shrunken, the white hands empty, the snakelike face vacant and unknowing. Voldemort was dead, killed by his own rebounding curse, and Harry stood with two wands in his hands, staring down at his enemy's shell.