It's Best To Know What The Enemy

Ah! Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans! I Was Unfortunate Enough In My Youth To Come Across A Vomit-flavored One, And Since Then I’m Afraid I’ve Rather Lost My Liking For Them — But I Think I’ll Be Safe With A Nice Toffee, Don’t You?” He Smiled And Popped The Golden-brown Bean Into His Mouth. “alas! Ear Wax!

How D’you Spell ‘belligerent’?” Said Ron, Shaking His Quill Very Hard While Staring At His Parchment. “it Can’t Be B — U — M —” “no, It Isn’t,” Said Hermione. “and ‘augury’ Doesn’t Begin O — R — G Either.

It’s So Difficult To Describe [depression] To Someone Who’s Never Been There, Because It’s Not Sadness. I Know Sadness. Sadness Is To Cry And To Feel. But It’s That Cold Absence Of Feeling — That Really Hollowed-out Feeling.

I'm Not So Naive That I Didn't Know Or Didn't Suspect That, At Some Point, Someone Was Going To Say "you're Writing About The Occult." My Wizarding World Is A World Of Imagination. I Think It Is A Moral World.

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.