You're meddling in things that ought not to be meddled in. It's dangerous.

When I call your name, you will come forth.

Doris Crockford, Mr Potter. I can't believe I'm meeting you at last.

- That thing has a name? - Of course he's got a name. He's mine.

- He's not Fred, I am. - Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother?

Take Fluffy, for example. Just play him a bit of music and he falls straight to sleep.

In just a week, he'll be off to Smeltings.

All I ask is for something in return.

I won it. Off a stranger I met down at the pub.

- You must be the youngest Quidditch player in... - A century, according to McGonagall.

Now, in a few moments, you'll pass through these doors and join your classmates.

And I have a few last-minute points to award.

How often do you come across a three-headed dog, even if you're in the trade?

Hogwarts teacher or not, I know a spell when I see one. I've read all about them.

Potter, this is Oliver Wood. Wood, I have found you a Seeker.

I would've expected more rational behavior on your part and am very disappointed in you, Ms. Granger.

But I've never even played Quidditch. What if I make a fool of myself?

Where, Mr Potter, would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar?