Random Harry Potter-quotes (sort of)

'I'm Draco Malfoy, I'm Draco, I'm on your side!' Draco was on the upper landing, pleading with another masked Death Eater. Harry Stunned the Death Eater as they passed: Malfoy looked around, beaming, for his saviour, and Ron punched him from under the Cloak. Malfoy fell backward on top of the Death Eater, his mouth bleeding, utterly bemused. 'And that's the second time we've saved your life tonight, you two-faced bastard!' Ron yelled.

‘Out of order, am I?’ shouted Seamus, who in contrast with Ron was going pale. 'You believe all the rubbish he’s come out with about You-Know-Who, do you, you reckon he’s telling the truth?’ 'Yeah, I do!’ said Ron angrily. 'Then you’re mad, too,’ said Seamus in disgust. 'Yeah? Well, unfortunately for you, pal, I’m also a prefect!’ said Ron, jabbing himself in the chest with a finger. 'So unless you want detention, watch your mouth!’

'You don't know what I'm capable of,' said Malfoy more forcefully, 'you don't know what I've done!' 'Oh, yes, I do,' said Dumbledore mildly. 'You almost killed Katie Bell and Ronald Weasley. You have been trying, with increasing desperation, to kill me all year. Forgive me, Draco, but they have been feeble attempts ... so feeble, to be honest, that I wonder whether your heart has been really in it ...'

'Come and look at this,' said Ron, who was standing by the window. He was staring down into the grounds. 'What's Malfoy doing?' Harry and Hermione went to see. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were standing in the shadow of a tree below. Crabbe and Goyle seemed to be keeping a look out; both were smirking. Malfoy was holding his hand up to his mouth, and speaking into it. 'He looks like he's using a walkie-talkie,' said Harry curiously. 'He can't be,' said Hermione, 'I've told you, those sorts of things don't work around Hogwarts.'

Harry kept to his room, with his new owl for company. He had decided to call her Hedwig, a name he had found in A History of Magic. His school books were very interesting. He lay on his bed reading late into the night, Hedwig swooping in and out of the open window as she pleased. It was lucky that Aunt Petunia didn't come in to hoover any more, because Hedwig kept bringing back dead mice.

It was like sinking into an old nightmare, for an instant he knelt again beside Dumbledore's body at the foot of the tallest tower at Hogwarts, but in reality he was staring at a tiny body curled upon the grass, pierced by Bellatrix's silver knife. Harry's voice was still saying 'Dobby ... Dobby ...' even though he knew that the elf had gone where he could not call him back.

And from the middle of the misty domed web, a spider the size of a small elephant emerged, very slowly. There was grey in the black of his body and legs, and each of the eyes on his ugly, pincered head was milky white. He was blind. 'What is it?' he said, clicking his pincers rapidly. 'Men,' clicked the spider who had caught Harry. 'Is it Hagrid?' said Aragog, moving closer, his eight milky eyes wandering vaguely. 'Strangers,' clicked the spider who had brought Ron. 'Kill them,' clicked Aragog fretfully. 'I was sleeping ...'

Filch was standing at the oak front doors as usual, checking off the names of people who had permission to go into Hogsmeade. The process took even longer than normal as Filch was triple-checking everybody with his Secrecy Sensor. 'What does it matter if we're smuggling Dark stuff OUT?' demanded Ron, eyeing the long thin Secrecy Sensor with apprehension. 'Surely you ought to be checking what we bring back IN?'

On this spot, on the night of 31 October 1981, Lily and James Potter lost their lives. Their son, Harry, remains the only wizard ever to have survived the Killing Curse. This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left in its ruined state as a monument to the Potters and as a reminder of the violence that tore apart their family.

'Suit yourselves. But I sometimes think Ron's mum's right and Sirius gets confused about whether you're you or your father, Harry.' 'So you think he's touched in the head?' said Harry heatedly. 'No, I just think he's been very lonely for a long time,' said Hermione simply.

'So what is Quidditch?' 'It's our sport. Wizard sport. It's like - like soccer in the Muggle world - everyone follows Quidditch - played up in the air on broomsticks and there's four balls - sorta hard ter explain the rules.'

'You're eating again, I notice,' said Ron, watching Hermione add liberal amounts of jam to her buttered toast. 'I've decided there are better ways of making a stand about elf rights,' said Hermione haughtily. 'Yeah ... and you were hungry,' said Ron, grinning.

'Are you mad?' said Ron. 'It could be dangerous.' 'Dangerous?' said Harry, laughing. 'Come off it, how could it be dangerous?' 'You'd be surprised,' said Ron, who was looking apprehensively at the book. 'Some of the books the Ministry's confiscated - Dad's told me - there was one that burned your eyes out. And everyone who read Sonnets of a Sorcerer spoke in limericks for the rest of their lives. And some old witch in Bath had a book that you could never stop reading! You just had to wander around with your nose in it, trying to do everything one-handed. And -'

But surely if the boy had destroyed any of his Horcruxes, he, Lord Voldemort, would have known, would have felt it? He, the greatest wizard of them all, he, the most powerful, he, the killer of Dumbledore and of how many other worthless, nameless men: how could Lord Voldemort not have known, if he, himself, most important and precious, had been attacked, mutilated?