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Quote by J.K. Rowling

“Do you know much about Hogsmeade?" asked Hermione keenly. "I've read it's the only entirely non-Muggle settlement in Britain-" "Yeah, I think it is," said Ron in an offhand sort of way, "but that's not why I want to go. I just want to get inside Honeydukes!" "What's that?" said Hermione. "It's the sweetshop," said Ron, a dreamy look coming over his face, "where they've got everything.... Pepper Imps- they make you smoke at the mouth- and great fat Chocoballs full of strawberry mousse and clotted cream, and really excellent sugar quills, which you can suck in class and just look like you're thinking what to write next-" "But Hogsmeade's a very interesting place, isn't it?" Hermione pressed on eagerly. "In Sites of Historical Society it says the inn was the headquarters for the 1612 goblin rebellion, and the Shrieking Shack's supposed to be the most severely haunted building in Britain-" "- and massive sherbert balls that make you levitate a few inches off the ground while you're sucking them," said Ron, who was plainly not listening to a word Hermione was saying.”

Quote by J.K. Rowling

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Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

In this third book of the Harry Potter series, Harry Potter returns to Hogwarts for his third year, where he faces new challenges and encounters the escaped prisoner, Sirius Black. more

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J.K. Rowling

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“What's Hogsmeade like? Where did you go?" By the sound of it- everywhere. Dervish and Banges, the wizarding equipment shop, Zonko's Joke Shop, into the Three Broomsticks for foaming mugs of hot butterbeer, and many places besides. "The post office, Harry! About two hundred owls, all sitting on shelves, all color-coded depending on how fast you want your letters to get there!" "Honeydukes has got a new kind of fudge; they were giving out free samples, there's a bit, look-" "We think we saw an ogre, honestly, they get all sorts at the Three Broomsticks-" "Wish we could have brought you some butterbeer, really warms you up-”

“The Piranha didn’t talk like a person. He said things like “If you fuckin’ buy this bond in a fuckin’ trade, you’re fuckin’ fucked.” And “If you don’t pay fuckin’ attention to the fuckin’ two-year, you get your fuckin’ face ripped off.” Noun, verb, adjective: fucker, fuck, fucking. No part of speech was spared. His world was filled with copulating inanimate objects and people getting their faces ripped off.”

“Ann Druyan suggests an experiment: Look back again at the pale blue dot of the preceding chapter. Take a good long look at it. Stare at the dot for any length of time and then try to convince yourself that God created the whole Universe for one of the 10 million or so species of life that inhabit that speck of dust. Now take it a step further: Imagine that everything was made just for a single shade of that species, or gender, or ethnic or religious subdivision. If this doesn’t strike you as unlikely, pick another dot. Imagine it to be inhabited by a different form of intelligent life. They, too, cherish the notion of a God who has created everything for their benefit. How seriously do you take their claim?”

“We feel something special between us, Gio. You took me there, on the bed, and I will let you take me again, and again." Her fingers brushed my mouth, pulling softly at my lips. "But, caro, I do so because we are forging something new, something that will, I hope, take us through our lives to the very end." A surge of passion pushed through me, overflowing like wine in a too-small goblet. I pressed my lips against hers and tasted her sweetness once more. One hand entwined in her hair, the other against her back. "You are right, cuore mio. Ti amo, ti amo." She held off my kisses, her hand against my cheek. "And I you, Gio. Your face has haunted my dreams since I first saw you. But if you love me, if you want me to stand by your side and to warm your bed..." Her hand squeezed my backside and I drew in a deep breath. "Just as we are now, when we kiss, when we touch, we must be one in the way we speak behind closed doors," she continued. "I will give you everything and tell you everything. And, Gio, you must promise me the same." Her hand had found its way to the front of me. "Yes, dolcezza mia," I breathed, unable to say anything else, unable to think of anything other than her fingers against my sex, her voice hot in my ear. She fell to her knees and took me in her mouth. My hands clutched her head, feeling the motion of her against me. When I thought I could take no more, I pushed her back, to the floor, pulled up her skirts, and drove myself between her thighs. "I promise, Isabetta," I whispered in her ear as I melted into her.”