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Kindle Notes & Highlights
by
J.K. Rowling
Read between
August 22 - October 7, 2024
“It sounds as though you’ve been trying to sew your skin back together,” said Mrs. Weasley with a snort of mirthless laughter, “but even you, Arthur, wouldn’t be that stupid —” “I fancy a cup of tea too,” said Harry, jumping to his feet.
Neville speaks most highly of you.”
“My son and his wife,” she said, turning haughtily to Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, “were tortured into insanity by You-Know-Who’s followers.”
“They were Aurors, you know, and very well respected within the Wizarding community,” Mrs. Longbottom went on. “Highly gifted, the pair of them. I — yes, Alice dear, what is it?”
She did not seem to want to speak, or perhaps she was not able to, but she made timid motions toward Neville, holding something in her outstretched hand.
But Neville had already stretched out his hand, into which his mother dropped an empty Drooble’s Blowing Gum wrapper.
But Neville said quietly, “Thanks Mum.”
Neville looked around at the others, his expression defiant, as though daring them to laugh, but Harry did not think he’d ever found anything less funny in his life.
Neville, put that wrapper in the bin, she must have given you enough of them to paper your bedroom by now . . .” But as they left, Harry was sure he saw Neville slip the wrapper into his pocket.
“You know,” said Sirius loudly, leaning back on his rear chair legs and speaking to the ceiling, “I think I’d prefer it if you didn’t give orders here, Snape. It’s my house, you see.”
“I assure you I did not beg for the job.”
“Well then, you’ll know he’s so arrogant that criticism simply bounces off him,”
“I’ve warned you, Snivellus,”
“Extra lessons with Snape?” said Ron, sounding aghast. “I’d rather have the nightmares!”
escorted once again by Tonks and Lupin,
The door of number twelve slammed shut behind them. They followed Lupin down the front steps. As he reached the pavement, Harry looked around. Number twelve was shrinking rapidly as those on either side of it stretched sideways, squeezing it out of sight; one blink later, it had gone.
“I’ve changed my mind,” muttered Ron, picking himself up from the floor for the sixth time, “I never want to ride on here again.”
The Dark Lord, for instance, almost always knows when somebody is lying to him. Only those skilled at Occlumency are able to shut down those feelings and memories that contradict the lie, and so utter falsehoods in his presence without detection.”
“To whom did the dog belong?”
ahora me pregunto si aquí le tenía pena
They must be a real prat, why didn’t they check what they were buying?”
que morón
these doubters now seemed to be turning to the only other explanation available to them, the one that Harry and Dumbledore had been expounding since the previous year.
Lee Jordan had pointed out to Umbridge that by the terms of the new rule she was not allowed to tell Fred and George off for playing Exploding Snap in the back of the class.
Luna, on the other hand, sang, “Weasley Is Our King” dreamily under her breath and stirred her drink with a cocktail onion on a stick.
“But I don’t think you’re ugly,” said Harry, bemused. Hermione laughed. “Harry, you’re worse than Ron. . . . Well, no, you’re not,” she sighed,
Professor Sprout awarded Gryffindor twenty points when Harry passed her a watering can; a beaming Professor Flitwick pressed a box of squeaking sugar mice on him at the end of Charms, said “Shh!” and hurried away; and Professor Trelawney broke into hysterical sobs during Divination and announced to the startled class, and a very disapproving Umbridge, that Harry was not going to suffer an early death after all, but would live to a ripe old age, become Minister of Magic, and have twelve children.
just wanted to say,” he mumbled, squinting at Harry’s left knee, “I believe you. And I’ve sent a copy of that magazine to me mam.”
“Bode could never have taken it, Master. . . . Bode would have known he could not. . . . Undoubtedly that is why he fought so hard against Malfoy’s Imperius Curse . . .”
“I was You-Know-Who,”
literalmente
“You mean the one where my cousin tried to make me stand in the toilet?” “No,” said Snape softly.
a hook-nosed man was shouting at a cowering woman, while a small dark-haired boy cried in a corner.
A greasy-haired teenager sat alone in a dark bedroom, pointing his wand at the ceiling, shooting down flies. . . . A girl was laughing as a scrawny boy tried to mount a bucking broomstick
“There, there, Sybill . . . Calm down. . . . Blow your nose on this. . . . It’s not as bad as you think, now. . . . You are not going to have to leave Hogwarts . . .” “Oh really, Professor McGonagall?” said Umbridge in a deadly voice, taking a few steps forward. “And your authority for that statement is . . . ?” “That would be mine,” said a deep voice.
“And I am happy to say that on this occasion I have succeeded. May I introduce you?” He turned to face the open front doors, through which night mist was now drifting. Harry heard hooves. There was a shocked murmur around the hall and those nearest the doors hastily moved even farther backward, some of them tripping over in their haste to clear a path for the newcomer. Through the mist came a face Harry had seen once before on a dark, dangerous night in the Forbidden Forest: white-blond hair and astonishingly blue eyes, the head and torso of a man joined to the palomino body of a horse. “This
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100000000 aura
“And you,” said the centaur, inclining his white-blond head. “It was foretold that we would meet again.”
“Hagrid has recently rendered me a great service,” said Firenze, “and he has long since earned my respect for the care he shows all living creatures. I shall not betray his secret. But he must be brought to his senses. The attempt is not working. Tell him, Harry Potter. Good day to you.”
Percy Weasley let out a hearty laugh. “Oh, very good, Minister, very good!”
Estupido
As Dumbledore spoke, Harry heard a rustle behind him and rather thought Kingsley whispered something. He could have sworn too that he felt something brush against his side, a gentle something like a draft or bird wings, but looking down he saw nothing there.
“I cannot allow you to manhandle my students, Dolores,” said Dumbledore, and for the first time, he looked angry.
A sudden suspicion connected to Kingsley’s whisper and the thing he had felt shoot past him sprang into Harry’s mind.
Dumbledore reached out and took the piece of parchment from Fudge. He gazed at the heading scribbled by Hermione months before and for a moment seemed unable to speak. Then he looked up, smiling. “Well, the game is up,” he said simply. “Would you like a written confession from me, Cornelius — or will a statement before these witnesses suffice?” Harry saw McGonagall and Kingsley look at each other. There was fear in both faces. He did not understand what was going on, and neither, apparently, did Fudge. “Statement?” said Fudge slowly. “What — I don’t — ?” “Dumbledore’s Army, Cornelius,” said
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“Well — it’s just that you seem to be laboring under the delusion that I am going to — what is the phrase? ‘Come quietly.’ I am afraid I am not going to come quietly at all, Cornelius. I have absolutely no intention of being sent to Azkaban. I could break out, of course — but what a waste of time, and frankly, I can think of a whole host of things I would rather be doing.”
“So,” sneered Fudge, recovering himself, “you intend to take on Dawlish, Shacklebolt, Dolores, and myself single-handed, do you, Dumbledore?” “Merlin’s beard, no,” said Dumbledore, smiling. “Not unless you are foolish enough to force me to.”
A hand grabbed the scruff of Harry’s neck and forced him down on the floor as a second silver flash went off
Harry struggled around to see who was half-strangling him and saw Professor McGonagall crouched beside him. She had forced both him and Marietta out of harm’s way.
Como te amo, Minerva
As it swung closed behind them, Harry heard Phineas Nigellus’s voice. “You know, Minister, I disagree with Dumbledore on many counts . . . but you cannot deny he’s got style . . .”
“Thank you so much, Professor!” said Professor Flitwick in his squeaky little voice. “I could have got rid of the sparklers myself, of course, but I wasn’t sure whether I had the authority . . .”
He was very good-looking; his dark hair fell into his eyes with a sort of casual elegance neither James’s nor Harry’s could ever have achieved, and a girl sitting behind him was eyeing him hopefully, though he didn’t seem to have noticed.
He had drawn a Snitch and was now tracing the letters L. E. What did they stand for?
Lupin and Wormtail remained sitting: Lupin was still staring down at his book, though his eyes were not moving and a faint frown line had appeared between his eyebrows.
What was making Harry feel so horrified and unhappy was not being shouted at or having jars thrown at him — it was that he knew how it felt to be humiliated in the middle of a circle of onlookers, knew exactly how Snape had felt as his father had taunted him, and that judging from what he had just seen, his father had been every bit as arrogant as Snape had always told him.
