Hagrid. You Live In A Wooden House!

You're A Wizard, Harry.

Anything's Possible If You've Got Enough Nerve.

Madam Pince, Our Librarian, Tells Me That It Is 'pawed About, Dribbled On, And Generally Maltreated' Nearly Everyday - A High Compliment For Any Book.

What's That?" He Snarled, Staring At The Envelope Harry Was Still Clutching In His Hand. "if It's Another Form For Me To Sign, You've Got Another -" "it's Not," Said Harry Cheerfully. "it's A Letter From My Godfather." "godfather?" Sputtered Uncle Vernon. "you Haven't Got A Godfather!" "yes, I Have," Said Harry Brightly. "he Was My Mum And Dad's Best Friend. He's A Convicted Murderer, But He's Broken Out Of Wizard Prison And He's On The Run. He Likes To Keep In Touch With Me, Though...keep Up With My News...check If I'm Happy.

There Is An Expiry Date On Blaming Your Parents For Steering You In The Wrong Direction; The Moment You Are Old Enough To Take The Wheel, Responsibility Lies With You.