J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

"Don’t put your wand there, boy! ... Better wizards than you have lost buttocks, you know!"

"You know, Minister, I disagree with Dumbledore on many counts...but you cannot deny he's got style..."

"Indifference and neglect often do much more damage than outright dislike."

"His priority did not seem to be to teach them what he knew, but rather to impress upon them that nothing, not even... knowledge, was foolproof."

"You're a prefect? Oh Ronnie! That's everyone in the family!""What are Fred and I? Next door neighbors?"

"Mistletoe,"said Luna dreamily, pointing at a large clump of white berries placed almost over Harry's head. He jumped out from under it. "Good thinking,"said Luna seriously. "It's often infested with nargles."

"But Dumbledore says he doesn't care what they do as long as they don't take him off the Chocolate Frog cards."

"From now on, I don't care if my tea leaves spell 'Die, Ron, Die,' I'm chucking them in the bin where they belong."

"Ask us no questions and we’ll tell you no lies."

"I am not forgotten, you know, no, I still receive a very great deal of fan mail.. . . Gladys Gudgeon writes weekly. . . . I just wish I knew why. . . .”He paused, looking faintly puzzled, then beamed again and returned to his signing with renewed vigor. “I suspect it is simply my good looks. . . ."

"Harry, don't go picking a row with Malfoy, don't forget, he's a prefect now, he could make life difficult for you...""Wow, I wonder what it'd be like to have a difficult life?"said Harry sarcastically."

"We can't choose our fate, but we can choose others. Be careful in knowing that."

"Why were you lurking under our window?""Yes - yes, good point, Petunia! What were you doing under our windows, boy?""Listening to the news,"said Harry in a resigned voice.His aunt and uncle exchanged looks of outrage."Listening to the news! Again?""Well, it changes every day, you see,"said Harry."

"I’ll make Goyle do lines, it’ll kill him, he hates writing,” said Ron happily. He lowered his voice to Goyle’s low grunt and, screwing up his face in a look of pained concentration, mimed writing in midair. “I... must... not... look... like... a... baboon’s... backside."

"Would you like a cough drop Dolores?"

"And anyway, it’s not as though I’ll never see Mum again, is it?"

"Things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end, if not always in the way we expect."

"By all means continue destroying my possessions. I daresay I have too many."

"Give her hell from us, Peeves."

"The mind is a complex and many-layered thing, Potter... or at least, most minds are..."