Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (Harry Potter, #4)

by J.K. Rowling

Gladrags Wizardwear — London, Paris, Hogsmeade

“Apparently, Professor Sprout told Professor Moody I’m really good at Herbology,” Neville said. There was a faint note of pride in his voice that Harry had rarely heard there before. “He thought I’d like this.”

Keep your eyes open, Harry.

“Will you please inform zis ’Agrid zat ze ’orses drink only single-malt whiskey?”

“Aaaah, yes,” said Mr. Ollivander, his pale eyes suddenly gleaming. “Yes, yes, yes. How well I remember.”

“Right little ray of sunshine, aren’t you?” said Ron. “You and Professor Trelawney should get together sometime.”

Harry Potter. . . . Dobby likes being free!”

“She seems to love him,” said Ron thickly (he had just started on a cream cake).

“Just because it’s taken you three years to notice, Ron, doesn’t mean no one else has spotted I’m a girl!”

“Oh look at the weeny owl! Isn’t he cute?”

“Socks are Dobby’s favorite, favorite clothes, sir!”

“Tha’s my boy . . . you show ’em, Harry, you show ’em. Beat ’em all.”

If you want to know what a man’s like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals.”

“So old Crouch lost it all, just when he thought he had it made,”

“Curiosity is not a sin,” he said. “But we should exercise caution with our curiosity . . . yes, indeed . . .”

“We bow to each other, Harry,” said Voldemort, bending a little, but keeping his snakelike face upturned to Harry. “Come, the niceties must be observed. . . . Dumbledore would like you to show manners. . . . Bow to death, Harry. . . .”

Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it.

“Harry’s wand and Voldemort’s wand share cores. Each of them contains a feather from the tail of the same phoenix. This phoenix, in fact,” he added, and he pointed at the scarlet-and-gold bird, perching peacefully on Harry’s knee. “My wand’s feather came from Fawkes?” Harry said, amazed. “Yes,” said Dumbledore. “Mr. Ollivander wrote to tell me you had bought the second wand, the moment you left his shop four years ago.”

You fail to recognize that it matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be!

“No good sittin’ worryin’ abou’ it,” he said. “What’s comin’ will come, an’ we’ll meet it when it does.

Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open.

“Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory.”