Snape Is Vindictive, He's Cruel. He's Not

As Harry And Ron Rounded The Clump Of Trees Behind Which Harry Had First Heard The Dragons Roar, A Witch Leapt Out From Behind Them. It Was Rita Skeeter. She Was Wearing Acid-green Robes Today; The Quick-quotes Quill In Her Hand Blended Perfectly Against Them. "congratulations, Harry!' She Said Beaming At Him. "i Wonder If You Could Give Me A Quick Word? How You Felt Facing That Dragon? How Do You Feel Now About The Fairness Of The Scoring?" "yeah, You Can Have A Word," Said Harry Savagely. "goodbye!

Bangs And Smoke Were More Often The Marks Of Ineptitude Than Expertise.

Every Second He Breathed, The Smell Of The Grass, The Cool Air On His Face, Was So Precious: To Think That People Had Years And Years, Time To Waste, So Much Time It Dragged, And He Was Clinging To Each Second.

Curious Indeed How These Things Happen. The Wand Chooses The Wizard, Remember...i Think We Must Expect Great Things From You, Mr. Potter... After All, He-who-must-not-be-named Did Great Things — Terrible, Yes, But Great.

But If It Matters To You, You'll Be Able To Choose Gryffindor Over Slytherin. The Sorting Hat Takes Your Choice Into Account." "really?" "it Did For Me," Said Harry. He Had Never Told Any Of His Children That Before, And He Saw The Wonder In Albus's Face When He Said It.