Everyone thinks I'm special. All those people in the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell, Mr. Ollivander . . . but I don't know anything about magic at all. How can they expect great things? I'm famous and I can't even remember what I'm famous for. I don't know what happened when Vol-, sorry – I mean, the night my parents died.
Hagrid, I think you must have made a mistake. I don’t think I can be a wizard.
I spoke a different language? But — I didn’t realize — how can I speak a language without knowing I can speak it?
I think, it’s time to get my dad’s old cloak out again.
I’m not. Really. I’m not trying to be a hero, but seriously, Sirius Black can’t be worse than Voldemort, can he?
HE KILLED MY MUM AND DAD!
SHE KILLED SIRIUS! SHE KILLED HIM — I’LL KILL HER!
I like a quiet life, you know me.
Time will not slow down when something unpleasant lies ahead.
You’re the one who is weak. You will never know love or friendship. And I feel sorry for you.
My eyes aren’t glistening with the ghosts of my past!
There’s no need to call me ‘sir,’ Professor.
I won’t blast people out of my way just because they’re there. That’s Voldemort’s job.
That wand’s more trouble than it’s worth. And quite honestly, I’ve had enough trouble for a lifetime.
What? My – my mom and dad weren’t famous, were they?
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