“Is it true that you shouted at Professor Umbridge?""Yes.""You called her a liar?""Yes.""You told her He Who Must Not Be Named is back?""Yes.""Have a biscuit, Potter.”

“Do you remember me telling you we are practicing non-verbal spells, Potter?""Yes," said Harry stiffly."Yes, sir.""There's no need to call me "sir" Professor."The words had escaped him before he knew what he was saying.”

“Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember...I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter... After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things — terrible, yes, but great.”

“This is your copy of Advanced Potion-Making, is it, Potter?”“Yes,” said Harry, still breathing hard.“You’re quite sure of that, are you, Potter?”“Yes,” said Harry, with a touch more defiance.“This is the copy of Advanced Potion-Making that you purchased from Flourish and Blotts?”“Yes,” said Harry firmly.“Then why,” asked Snape, “does it have the name ‘Roonil Wazlib’ written inside the front cover?”Harry’s heart missed a beat. “That’s my nickname,” he said.”

“Yes, it is easy to see that nearly six years of magical education have not been wasted on you, Potter. Ghosts are transparent.”

“You haven’t given me any ink,” he said.“Oh, you won’t need ink,” said Professor Umbridge with the merest suggestion of a laugh in her voice.Harry placed the point of the quill on the paper and wrote: I must not tell lies. He let out a gasp of pain. The words had appeared on the parchment in what appeared to be shining red ink. At the same time, the words had appeared on the back of Harry’s right hand, cut into his skin as though traced there by a scalpel — yet even as he stared at the shining cut, the skin healed over again, leaving the place where it had been slightly redder than before but quite smooth.Harry looked around at Umbridge. She was watching him, her wide, toadlike mouth stretched in a smile.“Yes?”“Nothing,” said Harry quietly.”

“Is it true?" he said. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?""Yes," said Harry. He was looking at the other boys. Both of were thickset and looked like bodyguards."Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said the pale boy carelssly, noticing where Harry was looking. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." Ron gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. Draco Malfoy looked at him. "Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."He turned back to Harry. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.”