Harry looked up at his uncle and felt a mixture of exasperation and amusement. Vernon Dursley had been changing his mind every twenty-four hours for the past four weeks, packing and unpacking and repacking the car with every change of heart. Harry’s favorite moment had been the one when Uncle Vernon, unaware that Dudley had added his dumbbells to his case since the last time it had been unpacked, had attempted to hoist it back into the boot and collapsed with roars of pain and much swearing.
He’d really done something to be proud of now – no one could say he was just a famous name any more.
Dumbledore slowly, and his light blue eyes moved from Harry to Hermione, “is more time.
You’re expecting too much of yourself.
The prospect of parting – probably forever – from his aunt, uncle, and cousin was one that he was able to contemplate quite cheerfully, but there was nevertheless a certain awkwardness in the air. What did you say to one another at the end of sixteen years’ solid dislike?
If he wants ter go, a great Muggle like you won’t stop him,” growled Hagrid. “Stop Lily an’ James Potter’s son goin’ ter Hogwarts! Yer mad. His.
There you are, then,” said Hermione in a superior tone. “They see the Grim and die of fright. The Grim’s not an omen, it’s the cause of death! And Harry’s still with us because he’s not stupid enough to see one and think, right, well, I’d better kick the bucket then!
Each of us believes that what he has to say is much more important than anything the other might have to contribute!
It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn’t simply open on to the heavens.
But my dear chap, do you know how much that’s worth?
Unfortunately, the brilliance that Bathilda exhibited earlier in her life has now dimmed. “The fire’s lit, but the cauldron’s empty,” as Ivor Dillonsby put it to me, or, in Enid Smeek’s slightly earlier phrase, “She’s nutty as squirrel poo.
They left; many people were staring at them as they went. Harry glanced.
Will we die, just a little?
Ron and Hermione weren’t speaking to each other.
I asked you,” said Moody quietly, “whether he forgave the scum who never even went to look for him. Those treacherous cowards who wouldn’t even brave Azkaban for him. The faithless, worthless bits of filth who were brave enough to cavort in masks at the Quidditch World Cup, but fled at the sight of the Dark Mark when I fired it into the sky.
Good gracious, really?
Right you are, Headmistress!’ wheezed Filch, who as a Squib could no more have Stunned the fireworks than swallowed them. He dashed to a nearby cupboard, pulled out a broom and began swatting at the fireworks in midair; within seconds the head of the broom was ablaze.
There’s no need to call me sir, Professor.
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.
Get back, you scurvy braggart! Back, you rogue!