There are some things you can’t share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them.
Draco, hot, invites Harry to meet him in the castle at night. For strictly violent reasons. This is not a date.
Snape shows up and Harry is all “why are you so obsessed with me?”
Sort, sort, sort, sort, sort, sort. He said me haffi sort, sort, sort, sort, sort, sort.
You two had better change, you know, I expect we’ll be there soon.
Father says it’s a crime if I’m not picked to play for my House, and I must say, I agree.
Hagrid looked at Harry with warmth and respect blazing in his eyes, but Harry, instead of feeling pleased and proud, felt quite sure there had been a horrible mistake.
Harry picked it up and stared at it, his heart twanging like a giant elastic band. No one, ever, in his whole life, had written to him.
Harry was used to spiders, because the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and that was where he slept.
Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won’t even remember! Can’t you see how much better off he’ll be, growing up away from all that until he’s ready to take it?