He Might Have Crawled Up Into The

You Never Get It Right, You People, Do You? Either We've Got Fudge, Pretending Everything's Lovely While People Get Murdered Right Under His Nose, Or We've Got You, Chucking The Wrong People Into Jail And Trying To Pretend You've Got 'the Chosen One' Working For You!

Harry: This Book Belongs To Harry Potter. Ron: Shared By Ron Weasley, Because His Fell Apart. Hermione: Why Don't You Buy A New One Then? Ron: Write On Your Own Book, Hermione. Hermione: You Bought All Those Dungbombs On Saturday. You Could Have Bought A New Book Instead. Ron: Dungbombs Rule.

I Was Ripped From My Body, I Was Less Than Spirit, Less Than The Meanest Ghost . . . But Still, I Was Alive.

Curious Indeed How These Things Happen. The Wand Chooses The Wizard, Remember...i Think We Must Expect Great Things From You, Mr. Potter... After All, He-who-must-not-be-named Did Great Things — Terrible, Yes, But Great.

The Fridge Had Been Emptied Of All Dudley’s Favorite Things — Fizzy Drinks And Cakes, Chocolate Bars And Burgers — And Filled Instead With Fruit And Vegetables And The Sorts Of Things That Uncle Vernon Called “rabbit Food.