The dead lay in a row in the middle of the hall.
Oh, get out of the way, Percy, said Fred. Harry's in a hurry.
I'm not going to be murdered, Harry said out loud. That's the spirit, dear, said his mirror sleepily.
Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning.
I will if you go out with me, Evans.
Well, it's no good crying over spilled potion, I suppose... but the cat's among the pixies now...