“Although people rarely died playing Quidditch, referees had been known to vanish and turn up months later in the Sahara Desert.”

“Neville will play Quidditch for England before Hagrid lets Dumbledore down.”

“Play Quidditch at all?”“No,” Harry said again, wondering what on earth Quidditch could be.“I do — Father says it’s a crime if I’m not picked to play for my House, and I must say, I agree. Know what House you’ll be in yet?”“No,” said Harry, feeling more stupid by the minute.“Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I’ll be in Slytherin, all our family have been — imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?”

“Well, I dreamed I was playing Quidditch the other night,' said Ron, screwing up his face in an effort to remember. 'What d'you reckon that means?''Probably that you're going to be eaten by a giant marshmallow or something,' said Harry.”

“You can't cancel Quidditch!”

“Oh, come on, Harry,” said Hermione, suddenly impatient. “It’s not Quidditch that’s popular, it’s you! You’ve never been more interesting, and frankly, you’ve never been more fanciable.”

“I wasn't paying attention," said Myrtle dramatically. "Peeves upset me so much I came in here and tried to kill myself. Then, of course, I remembered that I'm -- that I'm --" "Already dead," said Ron hopefully. Myrtle gave a tragic sob, rose up in the air, turned over, and dived headfirst into the toilet, splashing water all over them and vanishing from sight, although from the direction of her muffled sobs, she had come to rest somewhere in the U-bend.”