The smell from the kitchen was getting stronger: It was something like burning underpants.

That wand's more trouble than it's worth, said Harry. And quite honestly, he turned away from the painted portraits, thinking now only of the four-poster bed lying waiting for him in Gryffindor Tower, and wondering whether Kreacher might bring him a sandwich there, I've had enough trouble for a lifetime.

As our listeners will know, unless they've taken refuse at the bottom of a garden pond or somewhere similar, You-Know-Who's strategy of remaining in the shadows is creating a nice little climate of panic. Mind you, if all the alleged sightings of him are genuine, we must have a good nineteen You-Know-Who's running around the place.

Freshly caught Cornish pixies.

We must all make the choice between what is right and what is easy.

I'll join you when hell freezes over,' said Neville. ‘Dumbledore's Army!' he shouted, and there was an answering cheer from the crowd, whom Voldemort's silencing charms seemed unable to hold.

And tiny little ears, Luna was saying, a bit like a hippo's, Daddy says, only purple and hairy. And if you want to call them, you have to hum; they prefer a waltz, nothing too fast... Looking.