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

by J.K. Rowling

Voldemort smiled his terrible smile, his red eyes blank and pitiless.

“Now untie him, Wormtail, and give him back his wand.”

Voldemort was ready. As Harry shouted, “Expelliarmus!” Voldemort cried, “Avada Kedavra!”

A jet of green light issued from Voldemort’s wand just as a jet of red light blasted from Harry’s — they met in midair — and suddenly Harry’s wand was vibrating as though an electric charge were surging through it; his hand seized up around it; he couldn’t have released it if he’d wanted to — and a narrow beam of light connected the two wands, neither red nor green, but bright, deep gold. Harry, following the beam with his astonished gaze, saw that Voldemort’s long white fingers too were gripping a wand that was shaking and vibrating.

And then — nothing could have prepared Harry for this — he felt his feet...

And then an unearthly and beautiful sound filled the air. . . . It was coming from every thread of the light-spun web vibrating around Harry and Voldemort. It was a sound Harry recognized, though he had heard it only once before in his life: phoenix song.

“Accio!” Harry yelled, pointing his wand at the Triwizard Cup. It flew into the air and soared toward him. Harry caught it by the handle —

“He’s back,” Harry whispered. “He’s back. Voldemort.”

At that moment, Harry fully understood for the first time why people said Dumbledore was the only wizard Voldemort had ever feared.

“Understanding is the first step to acceptance, and only with acceptance can there be recovery. He needs to know who has put him through the ordeal he has suffered tonight, and why.”

“You have never known Alastor Moody. The real Moody would not have removed you from my sight after what happened tonight. The moment he took you, I knew — and I followed.”

“Severus, please fetch me the strongest Truth Potion you possess, and then go down to the kitchens and bring up the house-elf called Winky. Minerva, kindly go down to Hagrid’s house, where you will find a large black dog sitting in the pumpkin patch. Take the dog up to my office, tell him I will be with him shortly, then come back here.”

Lo, Fawkes,” said Harry quietly. He stroked the phoenix’s beautiful scarlet-and-gold plumage. Fawkes blinked peacefully up at him. There was something comforting about his warm weight.

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

“My wand’s feather came from Fawkes?” Harry said, amazed.

“They will not work properly against each other,”

You have shouldered a grown wizard’s burden and found yourself equal to it — and you have now given us all that we have a right to expect.

There was a moment’s silence, which was broken by Sirius growling. His hackles were raised, and he was baring his teeth at Fudge.

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

Mrs. Weasley set the potion down on the bedside cabinet, bent down, and put her arms around Harry. He had no memory of ever being hugged like this, as though by a mother.

The full weight of everything he had seen that night seemed to fall in upon him as Mrs. Weasley held him to her.

Heavy, irresistible waves of dreamless sleep broke over him; he fell back onto his pillows and thought no more.

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

It was with a heavy heart that Harry packed his trunk up in the dormitory on the night before his return to Privet Drive.

“The end,” said Dumbledore, looking around at them all, “of another year.”

“Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort.”

It is my belief, however, that the truth is generally preferable to lies, and that any attempt to pretend that Cedric died as the result of an accident, or some sort of blunder of his own, is an insult to his memory.”

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

Harry had the impression that Hermione had been dying to tell them this for days, but that she had restrained herself in light of everything else that had happened.

Smiling serenely, Hermione placed the beetle back inside her schoolbag.

“Look,” he said flatly, “take it, or I’ll hex you. I know some good ones now. Just do me one favor, okay? Buy Ron some different dress robes and say they’re from you.”

She hugged Harry very tightly when she saw him and whispered in his ear, “I think Dumbledore will let you come to us later in the summer. Keep in touch, Harry.”

There was no point worrying yet, he told himself, as he got into the back of the Dursleys’ car.

As Hagrid had said, what would come, would come . . . and he would have to meet it when it did.