Harry Is The Best Hope We Have.

As Far As Informing The Headmaster, Harry Had No Idea Where Dumbledore Went During The Summer Holidays. He Amused Himself For A Moment, Picturing Dumbledore, With His Long Silver Beard, Full-length Wizard's Robes, And Pointed Hat, Stretched Out On A Beach Somewhere, Rubbing Suntan Lotion Onto His Long Crooked Nose.

Dumbledore Paused, And Although His Voice Remained Light And Calm, And He Gave No Obvious Sign Of Anger, Harry Felt A Kind Of Chill Emanating From Him And Noticed That The Dursleys Drew Very Slightly Closer Together. “you Did Not Do As I Asked. You Have Never Treated Harry As A Son. He Has Known Nothing But Neglect And Often Cruelty At Your Hands. The Best That Can Be Said Is That He Has At Least Escaped The Appalling Damage You Have Inflicted Upon The Unfortunate Boy Sitting Between You.

Which Way Did They Go, Peeves?" Filch Was Saying. "quick, Tell Me." "say 'please.'" "don't Mess With Me, Peeves, Now Where Did They Go?" "shan't Say Nothing If You Don't Say Please," Said Peeves In His Annoying Singsong Voice. "all Right- Please." "nothing! Ha Haaa! Told You I Wouldn't Say Nothing If You Didn't Say Please! Ha Ha! Haaaaaa!" And They Heard The Sound Of Peeves Whooshing Away And Filch Cursing In Rage.

And It’s Johnson, Johnson With The Quaffle, What A Player That Girl Is, I’ve Been Saying It For Years But She Still Won’t Go Out With Me —” “jordan!” Yelled Professor Mcgonagall. “just A Fun Fact, Professor, Adds A Bit Of Interest —

You’ll Soon Find Out Some Wizarding Families Are Much Better Than Others, Potter. You Don’t Want To Go Making Friends With The Wrong Sort. I Can Help You There.” He Held Out His Hand To Shake Harry’s, But Harry Didn’t Take It. “i Think I Can Tell Who The Wrong Sort Are For Myself, Thanks,” He Said Coolly.