He accused me of being Dumbledore's man through and through.""How very rude of him.""I told him I was."Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again. Fawkes the phoenix let out a low, soft, musical cry. To Harry's intense embarrassment, he suddenly realized that Dumbledore's bright blue eyes looked rather watery, and stared hastily at his own knee. When Dumbledore spoke, however, his voice was quite steady. "I am very touched, Harry.
То був найпонуріший, найнеприємніший туалет, до якого коли-небудь заходив Гаррі.
That's what yer little sister said,' said Hagrid, nodding at Ron. Met her jus' yesterday.' Hagrid looked sideways at Harry, his beard twitching. 'Said she was jus' lookin' round the grounds, but I reckon she was hopin' she might run inter someone else at my house.' He winked at Harry. 'If yeh ask me, she wouldn' say no ter a signed-''Oh, shut up,' said Harry. Ron snorted with laughter and the ground was sprayed with slugs.
Aunt Petunia burst into tears. Hestia Jones gave her an approving look that changed to outrage as Aunt Petunia ran forward and embraced Dudley rather than Harry.'S-so sweet, Dudders...' she sobbed into his massive chest. 'S-such a lovely b-boy...s-saying thank you...''But he hadn't said thank you at all!' said Hestia indignantly. 'He only said he didn't think Harry was a waste of space!''Yeah, but coming from Dudley that's like "I love you.
Completely forgetting about dinner, he walked slowly back up to Gryffindor tower. Cho's voice echoing in his ears with every step he took... 'Cedric - Cedric Diggory' . He had been starting to quite like Cedric - prepared to overlook the fact that he had once beaten him at Quidditch, and was handsome, and popular, and nearly everyone's favourite champion. Now he suddenly realised Cedric was in fact a useless pretty-boy who didn't have enough brains to fill an eggcup.
Sure you can manage that broom, Potter?" said a cold, drawling voice.Draco Malfoy had arrived for a closer look, Crabbe and Goyle right behind him."Yeah, reckon so," said Harry casually."Got plenty of special features, hasn't it?" said Malfoy, eyes glittering maliciously. "Shame it doesn't come with a parachute - in case you get too near a Dementor."Crabbe and Goyle sniggered."Pity you can't attach an extra arm to yours, Malfoy," said Harry. "Then it could catch the Snitch for you.
As Harry and Ron rounded the clump of trees behind which Harry had first heard the dragons roar, a witch leapt out from behind them.It was Rita Skeeter. She was wearing acid-green robes today; the Quick-Quotes Quill in her hand blended perfectly against them."Congratulations, Harry!' she said beaming at him. "I wonder if you could give me a quick word? How you felt facing that dragon? How do you feel now about the fairness of the scoring?""Yeah, you can have a word," said Harry savagely. "Goodbye!
Hello, Harry!” she said.“Er — my name’s Barny,” said Harry, flummoxed.“Oh, have you changed that too?” she asked brightly.“How did you know — ?”“Oh, just your expression,” she said.Like her father, Luna was wearing bright yellow robes, which she had accessorized with a large sunflower in her hair. Once you got over the brightness of it all, the general effect was quite pleasant. At least there were no radishes dangling from her ears.
Becoming yourself is really hard and confusing, and it's a process," she said in her speech. "I was completely the eager beaver in school, I was the girl in the front of the class who was the first person to put her hand up, and it's often not cool to be the person that puts themself out there, and I've often gotten teased mercilessly, but I found that ultimately if you truly pour your heart into what you believe in — even if it makes you vulnerable — amazing things can and will happen.
Hello, Professor McGonagall,” said Moody calmly, bouncing the ferret still higher.“What — what are you doing?” said Professor McGonagall, her eyes following the bouncing ferret’s progress through the air.“Teaching,” said Moody.“Teach — Moody, is that a student?” shrieked Professor McGonagall, the books spilling out of her arms.“Yep,” said Moody.“Moody, we never use Transfiguration as a punishment!” said Professor McGonagall weakly.
When last I checked, you were a sorcerer, not a Jedi.""You've seen Star Wars?""Seen it and denounced it.""You've denounced Star Wars?"She looked me straight in the eye and said, "Hollywood should not glorify witches.""I think you've missed the point...""I also denounce Harry Potter.""Really?""Yes.""Because...""...because literature, especially children's literature, should not glorify witches.""Oda, what do you do for fun?"She thought about it, then said, without a jot of humor, "I denounce things.
At that moment, Harry fully understood for the first time why people said Dumbledore was the only wizard Voldemort had ever feared. The look upon Dumbledore's face as he stared down at the unconscious form of Mad-Eye moody was more terrible than Harry could have ever imagined. There was no benign smile upon Dumbledore's face, no twinkle in the eyes behind the spectacles. There was cold fury in every line of the ancient face; a sense of power radiated from Dumbledore as though he were giving off burning heat.
He was about to go home, about to return to the place where he had had a family. It was in Godric’s Hollow that, but for Voldemort, he would have grown up and spent every school holiday. He could have invited friends to his house. . . . He might even have had brothers and sisters. . . . It would have been his mother who had made his seventeenth birthday cake. The life he had lost had hardly ever seemed so real to him as at this moment, when he knew he was about to see the place where it had been taken from him.
My point is that this Potter business has legs. It will run and run, and we must be utterly mad, as a country, to leave it to the Americans to make money from a great British invention. I appeal to the children of this country and to their Potter-fiend parents to write to Warner Bros and Universal, and perhaps, even, to the great J K herself. Bring Harry home to Britain—and if you want a site with less rainfall than Rome, with excellent public transport, and strong connections to Harry Potter, I have just the place.
He read the letter again, but could not take in any more meaning than he had done the first time and was reduced to staring at the handwriting itself. She had made her g's the same way he did : he searched through the letter for every one of them, and each felt like a friendly little wave glimpsed from behind a veil. The letter was an incredible treasure, proof that Lily Potter had lived, really lived, that her warm hand had once moved across this parchment, tracing ink into these letters, these words, words about him, Harry, her son.
