To Harry Potter — the boy who lived!
All those poor elves I haven't set free yet, having to stay over during Christmas because there aren't enough hats!
Seen the Fizzing Whizbees, Harry?" said Ron, grabbing him and leading him over to their barrel. "And the Jelly Slugs? And the Acid Pops? Fred gave me one of those when I was seven - it burnt a hole right through my tongue. I remember Mum walloping him with her broomstick.
I was hoping that Neville would assist me with the first stage of the operation, he said, and I am sure he will perform it admirably.
He wrenched the hangings shut around his four-poster, leaving Harry standing there by the door, staring at the dark red velvet curtains, now hiding one of the few people he had been sure would believe him.
She stood up, glaring at them. I hope you're pleased with yourselves. We could all have been killed — or worse, expelled. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed.