Dear Professor Dumbledore, Sorry to bother you, but my scar hurt this morning. Yours sincerely, Harry Potter.
Now, you two – this year, you behave yourselves. If I get one more owl telling me you’ve – you’ve blown up a toilet or – ” “Blown up a toilet? We’ve never blown up a toilet.” “Great idea though, thanks, Mum.” “It’s not funny. And look after Ron.” “Don’t worry, ickle Ronniekins is safe with us.” “Shut up,” said Ron again. He was almost as tall as the twins already and his nose was still pink where his mother had rubbed it.
You want to?’ he said. ‘You mean it?’ ‘Yeah, I mean it!’ said Harry. Sirius’ gaunt face broke into the first true smile Harry had seen upon it.
You’re expecting too much of yourself,” said professor Lupin sternly, in their fourth week of practice. “For a thirteen-year-old wizard, even an indistinct Patronus is a huge achievement.
The reason for any omission lies, perhaps, in what Dumbledore said about truth, many years ago, to his favourite and most famous pupil: ‘It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution.
Oh, if there’s one thing you learn at cookery school,” said Mrs. Beamish, with a shrug, “burned crusts and soggy bases happen to the best of us. Roll up your sleeves and start something else, I say. No point moaning over what you can’t fix!
How many times, Kevin? You don’t – touch – Daddy’s – wand – yecchh!” She had trodden on the giant slug, which burst. Her scolding carried after them on the still air, mingling with the little boy’s yells – “You bust slug! You bust slug!
Raindrops the size of bullets thundered on the castle windows for days on end; the lake rose, the flowerbeds turned into muddy streams and Hagrid’s pumpkins swelled to the size of garden sheds. Oliver Wood’s enthusiasm for regular training sessions, however, was not dampened, which was why Harry was to be found, late one stormy Saturday afternoon a few days before Hallowe’en, returning to the Gryffindor Tower, drenched to the skin and splattered with mud.
That’s what Hermione does. When in doubt, go to the library.
Harry screwed up his face and buried it in his hands... Did this make him as arrogant as Draco Malfoy? Did he think himself superior to everyone else? Did he really believe he was better than Ron?
NEWT Well, the first symptom would be flames out of his anus –.
This was when I realized that I as an Author, JK Rowling, am just a huge ball of hatred and transphobia and I should double down on that. From that moment on I dedicated myself to falsehoods and prejudice.
You mean you’re running away?” said Harry disbelievingly. “After all that stuff you did in your books – ” “Books can be misleading,” said Lockhart delicately. “You wrote them!” Harry shouted.
Which makes you very different from Tom Riddle. It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.
What was making Harry feel so horrified and unhappy was not being shouted at or having jars thrown at him – it was that he knew how it felt to humiliated in the middle of a circle of onlookers, knew exactly how Snape had felt as his father had taunted him, and that judging from what he had just seen, his father had been every bit as arrogant as Snape had always told him.
There used to be a pretty roomy secret passageway behind that big mirror on the fourth floor, you might have enough space to practise jinxes in there.’ ‘Fred and George told me it’s blocked,’ said Harry, shaking his head. ‘Caved in or something.
Harry understood, and yet did not understand.
The Dark Lord and I have much in common. Both of us, for instance, had very disappointing fathers... very disappointing indeed. Both of us suffered the indignity, Harry, of being named after those fathers. And both of us had the pleasure... the very great pleasure... of killing our fathers to ensure the continued rise of the Dark Order!
But then, with a very faint pop, a slim hooded figure appeared out of thin air on the edge of the river.
How very wrong he was.
You are blinded by the office you hold Cornelius! You place too much importance on the so called purity of blood. You fail to recognize that it matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be.-Albus Dumbledore.