Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

I Speak Now, Harry Potter, Directly To You. You Have Permitted Your Friends To Die For You Rather Than Face Me Yourself. I Shall Wait For One Hour In The Forbidden Forest. If, At The End Of That Hour, You Have Not Come To Me, Have Not Given Yourself Up, Then Battle Recommences. This Time, I Shall Enter The Fray Myself, Harry Potter, And I Shall Find You, And I Shall Punish Every Last Man, Woman, And Child Who Has Tried To Conceal You From Me. One Hour.

You Can Choose, You Can Go One Of Two Ways. You Can Be The Person I Probably Admire More And Say 'well I Don't Care And I'll Continue Not To Bother To Brush My Hair.' Or You Can Be A Weak-willed Person Like Me And Think 'oh I'd Better Get My Act Together. And Maybe My Mother Was Right And I Do Need To Put My Hair Back And Tidy Myself Up A Bit.' So I Did Tidy Myself Up A Bit. But I Do Often Resent The Amount Of Time That It Takes To Pull Yourself Together To Go On Tv, I Really Do. If I Sound Bitter, Then That Accurately Reflects How I Feel About The Subject.

Finding Out What You’re Good At, And Doing It To The Best Of Your Ability, Is The Route To Self-respect.

The Presence Of Hundreds Of Books Had Finally Convinced Hermione That What They Were Doing Was Right.

The Wizards Represent All That The True 'muggle' Most Fears: They Are Plainly Outcasts And Comfortable With Being So. Nothing Is More Unnerving To The Truly Conventional Than The Unashamed Misfit!