Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter, #5)

by J.K. Rowling

Often the old scar on his forehead prickled uncomfortably, but he did not fool himself that Ron or Hermione or Sirius would find that very interesting anymore . . . In the past his scar hurting had warned that Voldemort was getting stronger again, but now that Voldemort was back they would probably remind him that its regular irritation was only to be expected . . . Nothing to worry about . . . old news . . .

The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.

The silver door knocker was in the form of a twisted serpent.

Both the chandelier and the candelabra on a rickety table nearby were shaped like serpents.

Pressing her finger to her lips, she led him on tiptoes past a pair of long, moth-eaten curtains, behind which Harry supposed there must be another door, and after skirting a large umbrella stand that looked as though it had been made from a severed troll’s leg, they started up the dark staircase, passing a row of shrunken heads mounted on plaques on the wall. A closer look showed Harry that the heads belonged to house-elves. All of them had the same rather snoutlike nose. Harry’s bewilderment deepened with every step he took. What on earth were they doing in a house that looked as though it belonged to the Darkest of wizards?

Harry crossed the dingy landing, turned the bedroom doorknob, which was shaped like a serpent’s head, and opened the door.

there’s provision in the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Sorcery for the use of magic in life-threatening situations —”

A blank stretch of canvas in an ornate picture frame was all that relieved the bareness of the peeling walls and as Harry passed it he thought he heard someone lurking out of sight snigger.

THE NOBLE AND MOST ANCIENT HOUSE OF BLACK “TOUJOURS PUR”

“You and Tonks are related?” Harry asked, surprised. “Oh yeah, her mother, Andromeda, was my favorite cousin,” said Sirius, examining the tapestry carefully. “No, Andromeda’s not on here either, look —” He pointed to another small round burn mark between two names, Bellatrix and Narcissa.

Dumbledore’s Secret-Keeper for the Order, you know — nobody can find headquarters unless he tells them personally where it is

By the time they reached Care of Magical Creatures in the afternoon, Harry’s head was aching again.

“Let’s see if you’ve gotten the message yet, shall we?” said Umbridge’s soft voice half an hour later. She moved toward him, stretching out her short be-ringed fingers for his arm. And then, as she took hold of him to examine the words now cut into his skin, pain seared, not across the back of his hand, but across the scar on his forehead. At the same time, he had a most peculiar sensation somewhere around his midriff. He wrenched his arm out of her grip and leapt to his feet, staring at her. She looked back at him, a smile stretching her wide, slack mouth. “Yes, it hurts, doesn’t it?” she said softly. He did not answer. His heart was thumping very hard and fast. Was she talking about his hand or did she know what he had just felt in his forehead?

“You’re worried that You-Know-Who’s controlling her like he controlled Quirrell?”

“There is no shame in what you are feeling, Harry,” said Dumbledore’s voice. “On the contrary . . . the fact that you can feel pain like this is your greatest strength.”

Youth cannot know how age thinks and feels. But old men are guilty if they forget what it was to be young . . . and I seem to have forgotten lately . . .”