More than anything else at Hogwarts, more even than playing Quidditch, Harry missed his best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.
Harry Potter is valiant and bold! He has braved so many dangers already! Dobby has come to protect Harry Potter, to warn him, even if he does have to shut his ears in the oven door later…
Beds empty! No note! Car gone — could have crashed — out of my mind with worry — did you care? — never, as long as I’ve lived — you wait until your father gets home, we never had trouble like this from Bill or Charlie or Percy —
Caution: Do Not Touch. Cursed — Has Claimed the Lives of Nineteen Muggle Owners to Date.
Harry could feel the seat vibrating beneath him, hear the engine, feel his hands on his knees and his glasses on his nose, but for all he could see, he had become a pair of eyeballs, floating a few feet above the ground in a dingy street full of parked cars.
“Why,” demanded Ron, seizing her schedule, “have you outlined all Lockhart’s lessons in little hearts?”
“It’s about the most insulting thing he could think of,” gasped Ron, coming back up. “Mudblood’s a really foul name for someone who is Muggle-born–you know, non-magic parents. There are some wizards–like Malfoy’s family–who think they’re better than everyone else because they’re what people call pure-blood.”
D’you think I don’t know what people call me behind my back? Fat Myrtle! Ugly Myrtle! Miserable, moaning, moping Myrtle!
Harry had never told Ron and Hermione that the Sorting Hat had seriously considered putting him in Slytherin. He could remember, as though it was yesterday, the small voice that had spoken in his ear when he’d placed the hat on his head a year before: You could be great, you know, it’s all here in your head, and Slytherin would help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that…
Get to that Snitch before Malfoy or die trying, Harry, because we’ve got to win today, we’ve got to.