Jealous?...of What? I Don't Want A Foul

Bidding The Wizard Farewell, He Turned To His Daughter, Who Held Up Her Finger And Said, “daddy, Look — One Of The Gnomes Actually Bit Me!” “how Wonderful! Gnome Saliva Is Enormously Beneficial!” Said Mr. Lovegood, Seizing Luna’s Outstretched Finger And Examining The Bleeding Puncture Marks. “luna, My Love, If You Should Feel Any Burgeoning Talent Today — Perhaps An Unexpected Urge To Sing Opera Or To Declaim In Mermish — Do Not Repress It! You May Have Been Gifted By The Gernumblies!” Ron, Passing Them In The Opposite Direction, Let Out A Loud Snort.

No, There's No University For Wizards. At The Moment I'm Only Planning To Write Seven Harry Potter Books. I Won't Say "never," But I Have No Plans To Write An Eighth Book.

Fred, You Next," The Plump Woman Said. "i'm Not Fred, I'm George," Said The Boy. "honestly, Woman, You Call Yourself Our Mother? Can't You Tell I'm George?" "sorry, George, Dear." "only Joking, I Am Fred," Said The Boy And Off He Went.

Dumbledore Was On His Feet Again, Pale As Any Of The Surrounding Inferi, But Taller Than Any Too, The Fire Dancing In His Eyes; His Wand Was Raised Like A Torch And From Its Tip Emanated The Flames, Like A Vast Lasso, Encircling Them All With Warmth.

Let’s See . . . Ah, Yes, This Is Nice And Cozy.” It Was A Broom Cupboard.