“Bill, don’t look at me — I’m ’ideous.”

“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.”

“Get off me,” Harry spat, throwing Pettigrew’s hands off him in disgust. “I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it because — I don’t reckon my dad would’ve wanted them to become killers — just for you.”

“I’m a teacher! A teacher, Potter! How dare yeh threaten ter break down my door!”“I’m sorry, sir,” said Harry, emphasizing the last word.Hagrid looked stunned. “Since when have yeh called me ‘sir’?” “Since when have you called me ‘Potter’?”

“I never need to find time to read. When people say to me, ‘Oh, yeah, I love reading. I would love to read, but I just don’t have time,’ I’m thinking, ‘How can you not have time?’ I read when I’m drying my hair. I read in the bath. I read when I’m sitting in the bathroom. Pretty much anywhere I can do the job one-handed, I read.”

“Bill was — there was no other word for it — cool. He was tall, with long hair that he had tied back in a ponytail. He was wearing an earring with what looked like a fang dangling from it. Bill’s clothes would not have looked out of place at a rock concert, except that Harry recognized his boots to be made, not of leather, but of dragon hide.”

“Silence fell between the four of them as they looked up at the sky. There was no sign of movement, the stars stared back, unblinking, indifferent, unobscured by flying friends. Where was Ron? Where were Fred and Mr Weasley? Where were Bill, Fleur, Tonks, Mad Eye, Mundungus?”