Would You Like A Cough Drop Dolores?

We Teachers Are Rather Good At Magic, You Know.

Even The Weather Seemed To Be Celebrating; As June Approached, The Days Became Cloudless And Sultry, And All Anybody Felt Like Doing Was Strolling Onto The Grounds And Flopping Down On The Grass With Several Pints Of Iced Pumpkin Juice, Perhaps Playing A Casual Game Of Gobstones Or Watching The Giant Squid Propel Itself Dreamily Across The Surface Of The Lake.

I’m Not A Freak. That’s A Horrible Thing To Say." "that’s Where You’re Going. A Special School For Freaks. You And That Snape Boy ... Weirdos, That’s What You Two Are..." "you Didn’t Think It Was Such A Freak’s School When You Wrote The Headmaster And Begged Him To Take You.

Lee Jordan Was Finding It Difficult Not To Take Sides. 'so — After That Obvious And Disgusting Bit Of Cheating —' 'jordan!' Growled Professor Mcgonagall. 'i Mean After That Open And Revolting Foul —' 'jordan, I'm Warning You —' 'all Right, All Right. Flint Nearly Kills The Gryffindor Seeker, Which Could Happen To Anyone, I'm Sure, So A Penalty To Gryffindor, Taken By Spinnet, Who Puts It Away, No Trouble, And We Continue Play, Gryffindor Still In Possession.

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.