Why are they all staring?” demanded Albus as he and Rose craned around to look at the other students. “Don’t let it worry you,” said Ron. “It’s me. I’m extremely famous.
It’s going to be all right, sir,” Harry said over and over again, more worried by Dumbledore’s silence than he had been by his weakened voice. “We’re nearly there … I can Apparate us both back … don’t worry …” “I am not worried, Harry,” said Dumbledore, his voice a little stronger despite the freezing water. “I am with you.
He must have known I’d want to leave you.” “No, he must have known you would always want to come back.
How do you feel, Georgie?” whispered Mrs. Weasley. George’s fingers groped for the side of his head. “Saintlike,” he murmured. “What’s wrong with him?” croaked Fred, looking terrified. “Is his mind affected?” “Saintlike,” repeated George, opening his eyes and looking up at his brother. “You see…I’m HOLEY, Fred, geddit?
Mr. Moony presents his compliments to Professor Snape, and begs him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people’s business. Mr. Prongs agrees with Mr. Moony, and would like to add that Professor Snape is an ugly git. Mr. Padfoot would like to register his astonishment that an idiot like that ever became a professor. Mr. Wormtail bids Professor Snape good day, and…
Seventeen, eh!” said Hagrid as he accepted a bucket-sized glass of wine from Fred. “Six years to the day we met, Harry, d’yeh remember it?” “Vaguely,” said Harry, grinning up at him. “Didn’t you smash down the front door, give Dudley a pig’s tail, and tell me I was a wizard?” “I forge’ the details,” Hagrid chortled.
You’ll stay with me?’ Until the very end,’ said James.
Both Rowling and Meyer, they’re speaking directly to young people. … The real difference is that Jo Rowling is a terrific writer and Stephenie Meyer can’t write worth a darn. She’s not very good.
An Unbreakable Vow?” said Ron, looking stunned. “Nah, he can’t have…. Are you sure?” “Yes I’m sure,” said Harry. “Why, what does it mean?” “Well, you can’t break an Unbreakable Vow…” “I’d worked that much out for myself, funnily enough.
I DON’T CARE!” Harry yelled at them, snatching up a lunascope and throwing it into the fireplace. “I’VE HAD ENOUGH, I’VE SEEN ENOUGH, I WANT OUT, I WANT IT TO END, I DON’T CARE ANYMORE!” “You do care,” said Dumbledore. He had not flinched or made a single move to stop Harry demolishing his office. His expression was calm, almost detached. “You care so much…
You care so much you feel as though you will bleed to death with the pain of it.
I’m going to keep going until I succeed — or die. Don’t think I don’t know how this might end. I’ve known it for years.
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