Harry, don't go picking a row with Malfoy, don't forget, he's a prefect now, he could make life difficult for you..." "Wow, I wonder what it'd be like to have a difficult life?" said Harry sarcastically.

Well, you split your soul, you see, and hide part of it in an object outside the body. Then, even if one’s body is attacked or destroyed, one cannot die, for part of the soul remains earthbound and undamaged. But of course, existence in such a form . . .

He lay face down, listening to the silence. He was perfectly alone. Nobody was watching. Nobody else was there. He was not perfectly sure that he was there himself.

Get off me,” Harry spat, throwing Pettigrew’s hands off him in disgust. “I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it because — I don’t reckon my dad would’ve wanted them to become killers — just for you.

Mr. Weasley was unavailable for comment, although his wife told reporters to clear off or she'd set the family ghoul on them.

Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

I would like to be remembered as someone who did the best she could with the talent she had.