J.K. Rowling
See also: Robert Galbraith
Although she writes under the pen name J.K. Rowling, pronounced like rolling, her name when her first Harry Potter book was published was simply Joanne Rowling. Anticipating that the target audience of young boys might not want to read a book written by a woman, her publishers demanded that she use two initials, rather than her full name. As she had no middle name, she chose K as the second initial of her pen name, from her paternal grandmother Kathleen Ada Bulgen Rowling. She calls herself Jo and has said, "No one ever called me 'Joanne' when I was young, unless they were angry." Following her marriage, she has sometimes used the name Joanne Murray when conducting personal business. During the Leveson Inquiry she gave evidence under the name of Joanne Kathleen Rowling. In a 2012 interview, Rowling noted that she no longer cared that people pronounced her name incorrectly.
Rowling was born to Peter James Rowling, a Rolls-Royce aircraft engineer, and Anne Rowling (née Volant), on 31 July 1965 in Yate, Gloucestershire, England, 10 miles (16 km) northeast of Bristol. Her mother Anne was half-French and half-Scottish. Her parents first met on a train departing from King's Cross Station bound for Arbroath in 1964. They married on 14 March 1965. Her mother's maternal grandfather, Dugald Campbell, was born in Lamlash on the Isle of Arran. Her mother's paternal grandfather, Louis Volant, was awarded the Croix de Guerre for exceptional bravery in defending the village of Courcelles-le-Comte during the First World War.
Rowling's sister Dianne was born at their home when Rowling was 23 months old. The family moved to the nearby village Winterbourne when Rowling was four. She attended St Michael's Primary School, a school founded by abolitionist William Wilberforce and education reformer Hannah More. Her headmaster at St Michael's, Alfred Dunn, has been suggested as the inspiration for the Harry Potter headmaster Albus Dumbledore.
As a child, Rowling often wrote fantasy stories, which she would usually then read to her sister. She recalls that: "I can still remember me telling her a story in which she fell down a rabbit hole and was fed strawberries by the rabbit family inside it. Certainly the first story I ever wrote down (when I was five or six) was about a rabbit called Rabbit. He got the measles and was visited by his friends, including a giant bee called Miss Bee." At the age of nine, Rowling moved to Church Cottage in the Gloucestershire village of Tutshill, close to Chepstow, Wales. When she was a young teenager, her great aunt, who Rowling said "taught classics and approved of a thirst for knowledge, even of a questionable kind," gave her a very old copy of Jessica Mitford's autobiography, Hons and Rebels. Mitford became Rowling's heroine, and Rowling subsequently read all of her books.
Rowling has said of her teenage years, in an interview with The New Yorker, "I wasn’t particularly happy. I think it’s a dreadful time of life." She had a difficult homelife; her mother was ill and she had a difficult relationship with her father (she is no longer on speaking terms with him). She attended secondary school at Wyedean School and College, where her mother had worked as a technician in the science department. Rowling said of her adolescence, "Hermione [a bookish, know-it-all Harry Potter character] is loosely based on me. She's a caricature of me when I was eleven, which I'm not particularly proud of." Steve Eddy, who taught Rowling English when she first arrived, remembers her as "not exceptional" but "one of a group of girls who were bright, and quite good at English." Sean Harris, her best friend in the Upper Sixth owned a turquoise Ford Anglia, which she says inspired the one in her books.
“Curiosity is not a sin.... But we should exercise caution with our curiosity... yes, indeed.”
“Are you trying to weasel out of showing us any of this stuff?' said Zacharias Smith. 'Here's an idea,' said Ron loudly, 'why don't you shut your mouth?' 'Well, we've all turned up to learn from him, and now he's telling us he can't really do any of it,' he said. 'That's not what he said,' said Fred Weasley. 'Would you like us to clean out your ears for you?' inquired George, pulling a long and lethal-looking metal instrument from inside one of the Zonko's bags. 'Or any part of your body, really, we're not fussy where we stick this,' said Fred.”
“Well, I’m sure you’ll find someone somewhere who’ll have you.”
“I'm serious, Harry, don't go." But Harry only had one thought in his head, which was to get back in front of the mirror, and Ron wasn't going to stop him.That third night he found his way more quickly than before. He was walking so fast he knew he was making more noise than was wise, but he didn't meet anyone.And there were his mother and father smiling at him again, and one of his grandfathers nodding happily. Harry sank down to sit on the floor in front of the mirror. There was nothing to stop him from staying here all night with his family. Nothing at all.”
“Can you think what the Mirror of Erised shows us all?" Harry shook his head."Let me explain. The happiest man on earth would be able to use the Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror, that is, he would look into it and see himself exactly as he is. Does that help." Harry thought. Then he said slowly, "It shows us what we want... whatever we want..." "Yes and no," said Dumbledore quietly. "It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. You, who have never known your family, see them standing around you. Ronald Weasley, who has always been overshadowed by his brothers, sees himself standing alone, the best of all of them. However, this mirror will give us neither knowledge or truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible."The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, and I ask you not to go looking for it again. If you ever do run across it, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. Now, why don't you put that admirable cloak back on and get off to bed.”
“I had a dream about a motorcycle," said Harry, remembering suddenly. "It was flying."Uncle Vernon nearly crashed into the car in front. He turned right around in his seat and yelled at Harry, his face like a gigantic beet with a mustache: "MOTORCYCLES DON'T FLY!"Dudley and Piers sniggered."I know they don't," said Harry. "It was only a dream.”
“Do I look stupid?" snarled Uncle Vernon, a bit of fried egg dangling from his bushy mustache.”
“What's most important in a friendship? Tolerance and loyalty.”
“Hedwig didn't return until the end of the Easter holidays. Percy's letter was enclosed in a package of Easter eggs that Mrs. Weasley had sent. Both Harry's and Ron's were the size of dragon eggs, and full of home-made toffee. Hermione's, however, was smaller than a chicken's egg. Her face fell when she saw it."Your mum doesn't read Witch's Weekly, by any chance, does she, Ron?" she asked quietly."Yeah," said Ron, whose mouth was full of toffee. "Gets it for the recipes."Hermione looked sadly at her tiny egg.”
“Malfoy glanced around. Harry knew he was checking for signs of teachers. Then he looked back at Harry and said in a low voice, "You're dead, Potter."Harry raised his eyebrows. "Funny," he said, "you'd think I'd have stopped walking around...”
“You may, perhaps, have wondered why I never chose you as a prefect? I must cofess...that I rather thought...you had enough reponsibility to be going on with." Harry looked up at him and saw a tear trickling down Dumbledore's face into his long silver beard.”
“Maybe a man in a million could unite the Hallows, Harry. I was fit only to possess the meanest of them, the least extraordinary. I was fit to own the Elder Wand, and not to boast of it, and not to kill with it. I was permitted to tame and to use it, because I took it, not for gain, but to save others from it.”
“Everythin' seems ter happen ter you, doesn' it?”
“If you choose to use your status and influence to raise your voice on behalf of those who have no voice; if you choose to identify not only with the powerful, but with the powerless; if you retain the ability to imagine yourself into the lives of those who do not have your advantages, then it will not only be your proud families who celebrate your existence, but thousands and millions of people whose reality you have helped transform for the better. We do not need magic to change the world, we carry all the power we need inside ourselves already: we have the power to imagine better.”
“And what in the name of Merlin’s most baggy Y Fronts was that about?”
“I see a light in the kitchen. Let us not deprive Molly any longer of the chance to deplore how thin you are.”
“Anyone can speak Troll. All you have to do is point and grunt.”
“Imagine losing fingernails, Harry! That really puts our sufferings into perspective, doesn't it? ”
“Just because it’s taken you three years to notice, Ron, doesn't mean no one else has spotted I'm a girl!”
“Three turns should do it.”
“To the Dark Lord,I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more.R.A.B”
“Ron seems to be enjoying the celebrations.” said Hermione. “Don’t pretend you didn’t see him. He wasn’t exactly hiding it, was — ?”The door behind them burst open. To Harry’s horror, Ron came in, laughing, pulling Lavender by the hand. “Oh,” he said, drawing up short at the sight of Harry and Hermione.“Oops!” said Lavender, and she backed out of the room, giggling.There was a horrible, swelling, billowing silence. Hermione was staring at Ron, who refused to look at her. She walked very slowly and erectly toward the door. Harry glanced at Ron, who was looking relieved that nothing worse had happened.“Oppugno!” came a shriek from the doorway.Harry spun around [...] The little flock of birds was speeding like a hail of fat golden bullets toward Ron, pecking and clawing at every bit of flesh they could reach.“Gerremoffme!” he yelled, but with one last look of vindictive fury, Hermione wrenched open the door and disappeared through it. Harry thought he heard a sob before it slammed.”
“And Percy was shaking his brother, and Ron was kneeling beside them, and Fred's eyes stared without seeing, the ghost of his last laugh still etched upon his face.”
“It was his own grief turned magically to song.”
“Somewhere out in the darkness, a phoenix was singing in a way Harry had never heard before: a stricken lament of terrible beauty. And Harry felt, as he had felt about phoenix song before, that the music was inside him, not without: It was his own grief turned magically to song..”
“Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here!”
“Merlin’s beard.”
“How in the name of Merlin's pants have you managed to get your hands on those Horcrux books?”
“Yes, it is easy to see that nearly six years of magical education have not been wasted on you, Potter. Ghosts are transparent.”
“You are the true master of death, because the true master does not seek to run away from Death. He accepts that be must die, and understands that there are far, far worse things in the living world than dying.”
“Oh, come and stir my cauldron,And if you do it right,I'll boil you up some hot strong loveTo keep you warm tonight.”
“Promise me you’ll look after yourself … stay out of trouble …’‘I always do, Mrs Weasley,’ said Harry. ‘I like a quiet life, you know me.”
“But Death was cunning.”
“October extinguished itself in a rush of howling winds and driving rain and November arrived, cold as frozen iron, with hard frosts every morning and icy drafts that bit at exposed hands and faces.”
“If all goes well, you will be able to save more than one innocent life tonight.”
“As Harry and Ron rounded the clump of trees behind which Harry had first heard the dragons roar, a witch leapt out from behind them.It was Rita Skeeter. She was wearing acid-green robes today; the Quick-Quotes Quill in her hand blended perfectly against them."Congratulations, Harry!' she said beaming at him. "I wonder if you could give me a quick word? How you felt facing that dragon? How do you feel now about the fairness of the scoring?""Yeah, you can have a word," said Harry savagely. "Goodbye!”
“Lockhart'll sign anything if it stands still long enough.”
“We can't choose our fate, but we can choose others. Be careful in knowing that.”
“But he understood at last what Dumbledore had been trying to tell him. It was, he thought, the difference between being dragged into the arena to face a battle to the death and walking into the arena with your head held high. Some people, perhaps, would say that there was little to choose between the two ways, but Dumbledore knew — and so do I, thought Harry, with a rush of fierce pride, and so did my parents — that there was all the difference in the world.”
“Don't you see? Voldemort himself created his worst enemy, just as tyrants everywhere do! Have you any idea how much tyrants fear the people they oppress? All of them realize that, one day, amongst their many victims, there is sure to be one who rises against them and strikes back!”
“Why are they all staring?" demanded Albus as he and Rose craned around to look at the other students."Don’t let it worry you," said Ron. "It’s me. I’m extremely famous.”
“Seventeen, eh!" said Hagrid as he accepted a bucket-sized glass of wine from Fred."Six years to the day we met, Harry, d’yeh remember it?""Vaguely," said Harry, grinning up at him. "Didn’t you smash down the front door, give Dudley a pig’s tail, and tell me I was a wizard?""I forge’ the details," Hagrid chortled.”
“Harry -- yer a wizard.”
“You’d think a bit of kissing would cheer her up.”
“Uncle Vernon: What were you doing under our window, boy?Harry Potter: Listening to the news.Uncle Vernon: Listening to the news! Again?Harry: Well, it changes every day, you see.”
“What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching towards the dungeon ceiling.I don't know," said Harry quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try asking her?" A few people laughed; Harry caught sight of Seamus's eye and Seamus winked. Snape, however, was not pleased.Sit down," he snapped at Hermione. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Snape said, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor house for your cheek, Potter.”
“Harry: This book belongs to Harry Potter. Ron: Shared by Ron Weasley, because his fell apart. Hermione: Why don't you buy a new one then? Ron: Write on your own book, Hermione. Hermione: You bought all those dungbombs on Saturday. You could have bought a new book instead. Ron: Dungbombs rule.”
“I’m very busy with schoolwork, of course.""How can she be?" said Ron in horror. "We’re on vacation!”
“You think you’re funny,” she said coldly. “But you’re just an arrogant, bullying toerag, Potter. Leave him alone.”“I will if you go out with me, Evans,” said James quickly. “Go on . . . Go out with me, and I’ll never lay a wand on old Snivelly again.”“I wouldn’t go out with you if it was a choice between you and the giant squid,” said Lily.”
“I never meant to call you Mudblood, it just-" Lily: "Slipped out? It’s too late. I’ve made excuses for you for years. None of my friends can understand why I even talk to you. You and your precious little Death Eater friends ... You’ve chosen your way, I’ve chosen mine.”