Although People Rarely Died Playing Quidditch, Referees

Every Second He Breathed, The Smell Of The Grass, The Cool Air On His Face, Was So Precious: To Think That People Had Years And Years, Time To Waste, So Much Time It Dragged, And He Was Clinging To Each Second.

He Missed Hogwarts So Much It Was Like Having A Constant Stomachache. He Missed The Castle, With Its Secret Passageways And Ghosts, His Classes, … The Mail Arriving By Owl, Eating Banquets In The Great Hall, Sleeping In His Four-poster Bed In The Tower Dormitory, Visiting The Gamekeeper, Hagrid, In His Cabin Next To The Forbidden Forest In The Grounds, And Especially, Quidditch, The Most Popular Sport In The Wizarding World

No, It Was Honest," Said Harry. "one Of The Only Honest Things You've Said To Me. You Don't Care Whether I Live Or Die, But You Do Care That I Help You Convince Everyone You're Winning The War Against Voldemort.

Let Me Out," Harry Said Again. "no," Dumbledore Repeated. "if You Don't - If You Keep Me In Here - If You Don't Let Me-" "by All Means Continue Destroying My Possessions," Said Dumbledore. "i Daresay I Have Too Many.

Harry, Just Go Down To The Lake Tomorrow, Right, Stick Your Head In, Yell At The Merpeople To Give Back Whatever They’ve Nicked, And See If They Chuck It Out. Best You Can Do, Mate.