“And then he heard Mad-Eye Moody’s voice, echoing in some distant chamber of his empty brain: Jump onto the desk . . . jump onto the desk. . . .Harry bent his knees obediently, preparing to spring.Jump onto the desk. . . .Why, though? Another voice had awoken in the back of his brain.Stupid thing to do, really, said the voice.Jump onto the desk. . . .No, I don’t think I will, thanks, said the other voice, a little more firmly . . . no, I don’t really want to . . .Jump! NOW!The next thing Harry felt was considerable pain. He had both jumped and tried to prevent himself from jumping — the result was that he’d smashed headlong into the desk, knocking it over, and, by the feeling in his legs, fractured both his kneecaps.”

“What part of his being hunched over a sheaf of papers was sointeresting to her? Because that was all he had been doing all week.Perhaps he ought to liven up the spectacle. Really, it would be the kind thing to do. She had tobe bored silly.He could jump on his desk and sing.Take a bite of food and pretend to choke. What would she do, then?Now that would be an interesting moral dilemma.”

“It's going to be all right, sir," Harry said over and over again, more worried by Dumbledore's silence than he had been by his weakened voice. "We're nearly there ... I can Apparate us both back ... don't worry ...""I am not worried, Harry," said Dumbledore, his voice a little stronger despite the freezing water. "I am with you.”

“There was a sergeant at a desk. I knew he was a sergeant because I recognized the marks on his uniform, and I knew it was a desk because it's always a desk. There's always someone at a desk, except when it's a table that functions as a desk. You sit behind a desk, and everyone knows you're supposed to be there, and that you're doing something that involves your brain. It's an odd, special kind of importance. I think everyone should get a desk; you can sit behind it when you feel like you don't matter.”

“I let her through. She checked Derek's pulse and his breathing, saying both seemed okay, then leaned down to his face. "Nothing weird on his breath. Smells . . . like toothpaste."Derek's eyes opened, and the first thing he saw was Tori's face inches from his. He jumped and let out an oath. Simon cracked up. I madly motioned for him to be quiet."Are you okay?" I asked Derek."He is now," Simon said. "After Tori jump-started his heart.”

“He half rose from his seat and reached across another student’s desk to drop the mangled paper clip in front of Tommy.“Look, dude,” he said, his voice low and earnest. “You want to ask me out, you man up and do it proper.”