“You are — truly your father’s son, Harry. . . .”

“It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.”

“Dumbledore paused, and although his voice remained light and calm, and he gave no obvious sign of anger, Harry felt a kind of chill emanating from him and noticed that the Dursleys drew very slightly closer together.“You did not do as I asked. You have never treated Harry as a son. He has known nothing but neglect and often cruelty at your hands. The best that can be said is that he has at least escaped the appalling damage you have inflicted upon the unfortunate boy sitting between you.”

“Hello, Harry" said George, beaming at him. "We thought we heard your dulcet tones.""You don't want to bottle up your anger like that, Harry, let it all out," said Fred, also beaming. "There might be a couple of people fifty miles away who didn't hear you.”

“They had reached Lockhart's classroom… 'You could've fried an egg on your face' said Ron. 'You'd better hope Creevey doesn't meet Ginny, or they'll be starting a Harry Potter fan club.'‘Shut up,’ snapped Harry. The last thing he needed was for Lockhart to hear the phrase ‘Harry Potter fan club’.”

“There is no shame in what you are feeling, Harry,' said Dumbledore's voice. 'On the contrary... the fact that you can feel pain like this is your greatest strength.”

“The words came out before Harry had quite got his tongue around them.“Wangoballwime?”“Sorry?” said Cho.“D’you — d’you want to go to the ball with me?” said Harry. Why did he have to go red now? Why?“Oh!” said Cho, and she went red too. “Oh Harry, I’m really sorry,” and she truly looked it. “I’ve already said I’ll go with someone else.”