I Think The Harry Books Are Actually

I Just Wondered Where You —” Ron Broke Off, Shrugging. “nothing. I’m Going Back To Bed.” “just Thought You’d Come Nosing Around, Did You?” Harry Shouted. He Knew That Ron Had No Idea What He’d Walked In On, Knew He Hadn’t Done It On Purpose, But He Didn’t Care — At This Moment He Hated Everything About Ron, Right Down To The Several Inches Of Bare Ankle Showing Beneath His Pajama Trousers.

That Old Berk," Muttered Aberforth, Taking Another Swig Of Mead. "thought The Sun Shone Out Of My Brother's Every Orifice, He Did.

I Think That Perhaps If I Had Had To Slow Down The Ideas So That I Could Capture Them On Paper I Might Have Stifled Some Of Them.

There You Go, Harry!” Ron Shouted Over The Noise. “you Weren’t Being Thick After All — You Were Showing Moral Fiber!

Harry, Despite Your Privileged Insight Into Voldemort’s World (which, Incidentally, Is A Gift Any Death Eater Would Kill To Have), You Have Never Been Seduced By The Dark Arts, Never, Even For A Second, Shown The Slightest Desire To Become One Of Voldemort’s Followers!” “of Course I Haven’t!” Said Harry Indignantly. “he Killed My Mum And Dad!” “you Are Protected, In Short, By Your Ability To Love!” Said Dumbledore Loudly.