English with Harry Potter

Madame Pomfrey: Put him here. What happened?
Professor Dumbledore: There's been another attack.
Professor McGonagall: I think... You know that I think he's been Petrified, Madame Pomfrey. Perhaps he managed to take a picture of his attacker? What can this mean, Albus?
Professor Dumbledore: It means... that our students are in great danger.
Professor McGonagall: What should I tell the staff?
Professor Dumbledore: The truth. Tell them Hogwarts is no longer safe. It is as we feared, Minerva. The Chamber of Secrets has indeed been opened again.

Madam Pomfrey clapped a hand to her mouth. Professor McGonagall stared at Dumbledore.
‘But Albus ... surely ... who?’
‘The question is not who,’ said Dumbledore, his eyes on Colin.
‘The question is, how ...’
And from what Harry could see of Professor McGonagall’s
shadowy face, she didn’t understand this any better than he did.

Ominous Voice: Kill. Kill. Time to kill.
Dobby: Hello.
Harry: Dobby?
Dobby: Harry Potter should've listened to Dobby. Harry Potter should've gone back home when he missed the train.
Harry: It was you. You stopped the barrier from letting Ron and me through.
Dobby: Indeed, yes, sir.
Harry: You nearly got Ron and me expelled.
Dobby: At least you would be away from here. Harry Potter must go home! Dobby thought his Bludger would be enough to make Harry Potter see that--
Harry: Your Bludger? You made that Bludger chase after me?
Dobby: Dobby feels most aggrieved, sir. Dobby had to iron his hands.
Harry: You better clear off before my bones come back, Dobby, or I might strangle you.
Dobby: Dobby is used to death threats, sir. Dobby gets them five times a day at home.
Harry: I don't suppose you could tell me why you're trying to kill me.
Dobby: Not kill you, sir. Never kill you. Dobby remembers how it was before Harry Potter triumphed over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. We house elves were treated like vermin, sir. Of course, Dobby is still treated like vermin.
Harry: Why do you wear that thing, Dobby?
Dobby: This, sir? It is a mark of a house elf's enslavement. Dobby could only be freed if his master presents him with clothes. Listen. Listen. Terrible things are about to happen at Hogwarts. Harry Potter must not stay here now that history is to repeat itself.
Harry: "Repeat itself"? You mean this has happened before?
Dobby: I shouldn't have said that! Bad Dobby!
Harry: Dobby, stop. Stop it. Stop it, Dobby! Tell me, Dobby. When did this happen before? Who's doing it now?
Dobby: Dobby cannot say, sir. Dobby only wants Harry Potter to be safe.
Harry: No, Dobby. Tell me. Who is it?

Madame Pomfrey: Oh, Mr. Malfoy. Stop making such a fuss. You can go. Out of my way. Out of my way. Should've been brought straight to me. I can mend bones in a heartbeat, but growing them back...
Hermione: You will be able to, won't you?
Madame Pomfrey: Oh, I'll be able to, certainly. But it'll be painful. You're in for a rough night, Potter. Regrowing bones is a nasty business. Well, what do you expect, pumpkin juice?

(Madam Pomfrey) ‘This boy needs rest, he’s got thirty-three bones to regrow! Out! OUT!’
And Harry was left alone, with nothing to distract him from the stabbing pains in his limp arm.

Lee: Harry Potter has caught the Snitch. Gryffindor wins!
Hermione: Finite Incantatem!
No longer safe.
Harry: Thank you.
Hermione: Are you okay?
Harry: No. I think my... I think my arm's broken.
Lockhart: Not to worry, Harry. I will fix that arm of yours straight away.
Harry: No. Not you.
Lockhart: Poor boy. Doesn't know what he's saying. Now, won't hurt a bit. Brackium Emendo. Yes, well, that can sometimes happen. But, uh... the point is... you can no longer feel any pain. And, very clearly, the bones are not broken.
Hagrid: "Broken"? There's no bones left!
Lockhart: Much more flexible, though.

Draco: Training for the ballet, Potter? You'll never catch me, Potter!
Hermione: Let's go.

Hagrid: Blimey, Harry's got himself a rogue Bludger! That's been tampered with, that has!
Ron: I'll stop it!
Hermione: No! Even with a proper wand, it's too risky. You could hit Harry.

Harry looped and swooped, spiralled, zig-zagged and rolled. Slightly dizzy, he nevertheless kept his eyes wide open. ... He could hear laughter from the crowd; he knew he must look very stupid, but the rogue Bludger was heavy and couldn’t change direction as quickly as he could. He began a kind of roller-coaster ride around the edges of the stadium, squinting through the silver sheets of rain to the Gryffindor goalposts, where Adrian Pucey was trying to get past Wood ...
A whistling in Harry’s ear told him the Bludger had just missed him again; he turned right over and sped in the opposite direction.

Lee: Another goal for Slytherin! They lead Gryffindor ninety to thirty!
Slytherin player: Yes!
Draco: All right there, Scarhead?
Oliver: Watch yourself, Harry!
Harry: Wood, look out!

The Slytherins’ superior brooms were clearly doing their jobs, and meanwhile the mad Bludger was doing all it could to knock Harry out of the air. Fred and George were now flying so close to him on either side that Harry could see nothing at all except their flailing arms and had no chance to look for the Snitch, let alone catch it.
‘Someone’s – tampered – with – this – Bludger –’ Fred grunted, swinging his bat with all his might at it as it launched a new attack on Harry.
‘We need time out,’ said George, trying to signal to Wood and stop the Bludger breaking Harry’s nose at the same time.
Wood had obviously got the message. Madam Hooch’s whistle rang out and Harry, Fred and George dived for the ground, still trying to avoid the mad Bludger.
‘What’s going on?’ said Wood, as the Gryffindor team huddled together, while Slytherins in the crowd jeered. ‘We’re being flattened. Fred, George, where were you when that Bludger stopped Angelina scoring?’
‘We were twenty feet above her, stopping the other Bludger murdering Harry, Oliver,’ said George angrily. ‘Someone’s fixed it – it won’t leave Harry alone, it hasn’t gone for anyone else all game.
The Slytherins must have done something to it.’
‘But the Bludgers have been locked in Madam Hooch’s office since our last practice, and there was nothing wrong with them then ...’ said Wood, anxiously.
Madam Hooch was walking towards them. Over her shoulder, Harry could see the Slytherin team jeering and pointing in his direction.
‘Listen,’ said Harry, as she came nearer and nearer, ‘with you two flying round me all the time the only way I’m going to catch the Snitch is if it flies up my sleeve. Go back to the rest of the team and let me deal with the rogue one.’
‘Don’t be thick,’ said Fred. ‘It’ll take your head off.’
Wood was looking from Harry to the Weasleys.
‘Oliver, this is mad,’ said Alicia Spinnet angrily. ‘You can’t let Harry deal with that thing on his own. Let’s ask for an inquiry –’
‘If we stop now, we’ll have to forfeit the match!’ said Harry. ‘And we’re not losing to Slytherin just because of a mad Bludger! Come on, Oliver, tell them to leave me alone!’
‘This is all your fault,’ George said angrily to Wood. ‘ “Get the Snitch or die trying” – what a stupid thing to tell him!’
Madam Hooch had joined them.
‘Ready to resume play?’ she asked Wood.
Wood looked at the determined look on Harry’s face.
‘All right,’ he said. ‘Fred, George, you heard Harry – leave him alone and let him deal with the Bludger on his own.’

Hermione: Here it is, the Polyjuice Potion. "Properly brewed, the Polyjuice Potion allows the drinker to transform himself temporarily into the physical form of another."
Ron: You mean, if Harry and I drink that stuff, we'll turn into Crabbe and Goyle?
Hermione: Yes.
Ron: Wicked. Malfoy will tell us anything.
Hermione: Exactly, but it's tricky. I've never seen a more complicated potion.
Harry: Well, how long will it take to make?
Hermione: A month.
Harry: A month?! But, Hermione... if Malfoy is the Heir of Slytherin, he could attack half the Muggle-borns in the school by then!
Hermione: I know, but it's the only plan we've got.