Bad news, Harry. I’ve just been to see Professor McGonagall about the Firebolt. She – er, got a bit shirty with me. Told me I’d got my priorities wrong. Seemed to think I cared more about winning the Cup than I do about staying alive. Just because I told her I didn’t care if it threw you off, as long as you caught the Snitch first.
Even You-Know-Who can’t split himself into seven.
Am I about to discover where you, Ron, and Hermione disappeared to while you were supposed to be in the back room of Fred and George’s shop?’
‘How did you…?’
‘Harry, please. You’re talking to the man who raised Fred and George.
Don’t talk to me.”
“Because I want to fix that in my memory for ever. Draco Malfoy, the amazing bouncing ferret…
Now, it is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be more than sufficient to get you through your examination, which, after all, is what school is all about.
You know how I think they choose people for Gryffindor team?” said Malfoy loudly a few minutes later, as Snape awarded Hufflepuff another penalty for now reason at all. “It’s people they feel sorry for. See, there’s Potter, who’s got no parents, then there’s the Weasleys, who’ve got no money – you should be on the team, Longbottom, you’ve got no brains.
It is a strange thing, but when you are dreading something, and would give anything to slow down time, it has a disobliging habit of speeding up.
You’re joking, Perce! You are actually joking, Percy… I don’t think I’ve heard you joke since you were-
Harry, don’t go picking a row with Malfoy, don’t forget, he’s a prefect now, he could make life difficult for you…”
“Wow, I wonder what it’d be like to have a difficult life?” said Harry sarcastically.
Somewhere out in the darkness, a phoenix was singing in a way Harry had never heard before: a stricken lament of terrible beauty.