... perhaps those who are best suited to power are those who have never sought it.

You should write a book," Ron told Hermione as he cut up his potatoes, "translating mad things girls do so boys can understand them.

It's the same story with a few crucial additions; the most important one is you.

Your Great-Aunt Muriel doesn't agree, I just met her upstairs while she was giving Fleur the tiara. "She said 'Oh dear, is this the muggle born?' and then, 'Bad posture, skinny ankles.'" Don't take it personally, she's rude to everyone," said Ron. "Talking about Muriel?" inquired George, reemerging from the marquee with Fred. "Yeah, she's just told me my ears are lopsided. Old bat.

Slowly, very slowly, he sat up, and as he did so he felt more alive, and more aware of his own living body than ever before. Why had he never appreciated what a miracle he was, brain and nerve and bounding heart? It would all be gone...or at least, he would be gone from it. His breath came slow and deep, and his mouth and throat were completely dry, but so were his eyes.

Are you insane? Of course I want to leave the Dursleys! Have you got a house? When can I move in?

Fred and George turned to each other and said together, "Wow, we're identical!" "I dunno though, I think I'm still better looking," said Fred, examining his reflection in the kettle.