Quotes from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (Page 2)

"Er - is this the new stand on elf rights?" said Ron. "You're going to make yourself puke instead?"
"No," said Hermione, with as much dignity as she could muster with her mouth bulging with sprouts.

"You're eating again, I notice," said Ron, watching Hermione add liberal amounts of jam to her buttered toast.
"I've decided there are better ways of making a stand about elf rights," said Hermione haughtily.
"Yeah... and you were hungry," said Ron, grinning.

"I am not joking, Mr Weasley," he said, "though, now you mention it, I did head an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag and a leprechaun who all go into a bar -"
Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly.
"Er - but maybe this is not the time..."

"Yeah, someone might slip dragon dung in it again, eh, Perce?" said Fred.
"That was a sample of fertilizer from Norway!" said Percy, going very red in the face. "It was nothing personal!"
"It was," Fred whispered to Harry as they got up from the table. "We sent it."

It is a strange thing, but when you are dreading something, and would give anything to slow down time, it has a disobliging habit of speeding up.

Time will not slow down when something unpleasant lies ahead.

Harry: "If I dropped dead every time that old bat said I would, I'd be a medical miracle."
Ron: "You'd be some sort of extra-concentrated ghost."

"I know things about Ludo Bagman that would make your hair curl… not that it needs it -" she added, eyeing Hermione's bushy hair.

Attractive blonde Rita Skeeter, forty-three, whose savage quill has punctured many inflated reputations.

Miss Granger has developed a taste for famous wizards which Potter alone cannot satisfy.

Miss Granger remains the only person in this class who has managed to turn a hedgehog into a satisfactory pincushion. I might remind you that your pincushion, Thomas, still curls up in fright if anyone approaches it with a pin!

You know your mother, Malfoy? That expression she's got, like she's got dung under her nose? Has she always looked like that, or was it just because you were with her?

Draco: "Father and I are in the minister's box. By personal invitation of Cornelius Fudge himself."
Lucius: "Don't boast, Draco. There's no need with these people."

And then I ask myself, but how could they have believed I would not rise again? They, who knew the steps I took, long ago, to guard myself against mortal death? They, who had seen proofs of the immensity of my power in the times when I was mightier than any wizard living?

He got caught by Apollyon Pringle - he was the caretaker in those days - your father's still got the marks.

Harry: "Percy's enjoying work, then?"
Ron: "Enjoying it? I don't reckon he'd come home if Dad didn't make him. He's obsessed. Just don't get him onto the subject of his boss. 'According to Mr Crouch'... 'as I was saying to Mr Crouch'... 'Mr Crouch is of the opinion'... 'Mr Crouch was telling'... they'll be announcing their engagement any day now."

First think of the person who lives in disguise,
Who deals in secrets and tells naught but lies.
Next, tell me what's always the last thing to mend,
The middle of middle and end of the end?
And finally give me the sound often heard
During the search for a hard-to-find word.
Now string them together, and answer me this,
Which creature would you be unwilling to kiss?

Keep back there, Hagrid! They can shoot fire at a range of twenty feet, you know! I've seen this Horntail do forty!

This is a Hungarian Horntail. There's a Com­mon Welsh Green over there, the smaller one - a Swedish Short-Snout, that blue-gray - and a Chinese Fireball, that's the red. I don't envy the one who gets the Horntail. Vicious thing. Its back end's as dan­gerous as its front.

He's retired, used to work at the Ministry. I met him once when Dad took me into work with him. He was an Auror - one of the best… a Dark wizard catcher. Half the cells in Azkaban are full because of him.

Krum's one decent player, Ireland has got seven. I wish England had got through. That was embarrassing, that was.

Ollivander: "Nine and a half inches... inflexible... rosewood... and containing... dear me..."
Fleur: "An 'air from ze 'ead of a veela. One of my grandmuzzer's."

It is too 'eavy, all zis 'Ogwarts food. I will not fit into my dress robes!

We 'ave all be 'oping to be chosen for weeks and weeks! Ze honour for our schools! A thousand Galleons prize money - zis is a chance many would die for!

He held up the envelope in which Mrs Weasley's letter had come, and Harry had to fight down a laugh. Every bit of it was covered in stamps except for a square inch on the front, into which Mrs. Weasley had squeezed the Dursleys' address in minute writing.

I said to him, I said - Ced, that'll be something to tell your grandchildren, that will... you beat Harry Potter!

Always modest, our Ced, always the gentleman... but the best man won, I'm sure Harry'd say the same, wouldn't you, eh? One falls off his broom, one stays on, it doesn't take a genius to tell which one's the better flier!

Muggle neighbours heard bangs and shouting, so they went and called those what-d'you-call-'ems - please-men.

There you are, are you? Bet you're not feeling quite as full of yourself now Cedric's caught you up on points, are you?

Well, if they end up having children, they'll be setting a world record, any baby of theirs would weigh about a ton.

"Twelve and a quarter inches... ash... pleasantly springy. It's in fine condition.... You treat it regularly?"
"Polished it last night," said Cedric, grinning.

It seems to me that you are all determined to start a panic that will destabilise everything we have worked for these last thirteen years!

Your father's coming... hold on for your father... it will be all right.... hold on...

As Minister for Magic, it gives me great pleasure to welcome each and every one of you to the Finals of the 422nd Quidditch World Cup. Let the match begin!

But I was willing to embrace mortal life again, before chasing immortality.

Harry! I'd almost forgotten you were here, standing on the bones of my father. I'd introduce you, but word has it you're almost as famous as me these days.

I was ripped from my body, I was less than spirit, less than the meanest ghost... but still, I was alive.

From high above his head, he heard a high, cold voice say, "kill the spare." A swishing noise and a second voice, which screeched the words to the night: "Avada Kedavra!" A blast of green light blazed through Harry's eyelids, and he heard something heavy fall to ground beside him. Cedric was lying spread-eagled on the ground beside him. He was dead.

After tonight, if they speak of you they'll speak only of how you begged for death. And I, being a merciful Lord, obliged.

No good sitting worrying about it. What's coming will come, and we'll meet it when it does.

Great man, Dumbledore. 'S long as we've got him, I'm not too worried.

Trelawney: "I think I am right in saying, my dear, that you were born in midwinter?"
Harry: "No, I was born in July."

Listen to me, Potter. Your pal Diggory? By your age he could turn a whistle into a watch and have it sing you the time. Miss Delacour? She's as much a fairy princess as I am. As for Krum, his head may be filled with sawdust, but Karkaroff's is not.

"You all righ'?" he said gruffly.
"Yeah," said Harry.
"No, yeh're not," said Hagrid. "'Course yeh're not. But yeh will be."

Yeh'll do wha' yer told. Or I'll be takin' a leaf outta Professor Moody's book... I hear yeh made a good ferret, Malfoy.

Avada Kedavra… the killing curse. There's no blocking it. Only one known person has ever survived it, and he's sitting right in front of me.

Tiny little bloke, my dad was. By the time I was six I could lift him up an' put him on top o' the dresser if he annoyed me. Used ter make him laugh.

He'll accept anyone at Hogwarts, s'long as they've got the talent. Knows people can turn out okay even if their families weren'... well... all tha' respectable.

Why so tense, Potter? My father and I have a bet, you see. I don't think you're going to last ten minutes in this tournament. He disagrees. He thinks you won't last five!

Socks are Dobby's favourite, favourite clothes, sir!