If he doesn’t stop trying to save your life he’s going to kill you.
Dumbledore had not raised his voice, he did not even sound angry, but Harry would have preferred him to yell; this cold disappointment was worse than anything.
Apparently wizards poke their noses in everywhere!
Hermione was screaming again: the sound went through Harry like physical pain.
Once again you’ve put your keen and penetrating mind to the task and as usual come to the wrong conclusion!
Next time there’s a ball, ask me before someone else does, and not as a last resort!
Power was my weakness and my temptation.
Because to confide a part of your soul to something that can think and move for itself is obviously a very risky business.
You’d think I walk around with my eyes shut, banging off the walls.
Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.
As our listeners will know, unless they’ve taken refuge at the bottom of a garden pond or somewhere similar, You-Know-Who’s strategy of remaining in the shadows is creating a nice little climate of panic.
I sometimes find, and I am sure you know the feeling, that I simply have too many thoughts and memories crammed into my mind.
Oooh, look, a Blibbering Humdinger!
How in the name of Merlin’s pants have you managed to get your hands on those Horcrux books?
Killing rips the soul apart.
Contemplating the task ahead would not make it easier or the water warmer.
He might have crawled up into the airing cupboard and died, but I mustn’t get my hopes up.
I always advise children who ask me for tips on being a writer to read as much as they possibly can. Jane Austen gave a young friend the same advice, so I’m in good company there.
Time is making fools of us again.
Longbottom, if brains were gold, you’d be poorer than Weasley, and that’s saying something.