Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (Harry Potter, #3)

by J.K. Rowling

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.

Nothing changed when they left school. Black was best man when James married Lily. Then they named him godfather to Harry. Harry has no idea, of course. You can imagine how the idea would torment him.”

Never forget that when thirteen dine together, the first to rise will be the first to die!”

If only there had been a dementor around. . . . As a sobbing Wood passed Harry the Cup, as he lifted it into the air, Harry felt he could have produced the world’s best Patronus.

“That’s not a rat,” croaked Sirius Black suddenly. “What d’you mean — of course he’s a rat —” “No, he’s not,” said Lupin quietly. “He’s a wizard.” “An Animagus,” said Black, “by the name of Peter Pettigrew.”

“HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO HARRY?” roared Black. “HOW DARE YOU FACE HIM? HOW DARE YOU TALK ABOUT JAMES IN FRONT OF HIM?”

And then it hit him — he understood. He hadn’t seen his father — he had seen himself —

“This is magic at its deepest, its most impenetrable, Harry. But trust me . . . the time may come when you will be very glad you saved Pettigrew’s life.”

“You think the dead we have loved ever truly leave us? You think that we don’t recall them more clearly than ever in times of great trouble? Your father is alive in you, Harry, and shows himself most plainly when you have need of him. How else could you produce that particular Patronus? Prongs rode again last night.”