Dumbledore had not raised his voice, he did not even sound angry, but Harry would have preferred him to yell; this cold disappointment was worse than anything.
I was ripped from my body, I was less than spirit, less than the meanest ghost . . . but still, I was alive.
No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons or phoenixes are quite the same.
The one who loves us never really leave us.
Why? Blimey, Harry, everyone'd be wantin' magic solutions to their problems. Nah, we're best left alone.
Being fed, and having a soft bed, and other people being in charge, seemed the most wonderful prospect in the world at that moment.