I'm Draco Malfoy, I'm Draco, I'm on your side!"Draco was on the upper landing, pleading with another masked Death Eater. Harry Stunned the Death Eater as they passed: Malfoy looked around, beaming, for his savior, and Ron punched him from under the cloak. Malfoy fell backward on top of the Death Eater, his mouth bleeding, utterly bemused."And that's the second time we've saved your life tonight, you two-faced bastard!" Ron yelled.

You see, I, unlike you, have been made a prefect, which means that I, unlike you, have the power to hand out punishments.”“Yeah,” said Harry, “but you, unlike me, are a git.

Draco: Flipendo! ... Keep up, old man.Harry: We're the same age, Draco.Draco: I wear it better.

Famous Harry Potter," said Malfoy. "Can't even go to a bookshop without making the front page.

Honestly, if you were any slower, you’d be going backward.

Longbottom, if brains were gold, you'd be poorer than Weasley, and that's saying something.

Is it true?" he said. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?""Yes," said Harry. He was looking at the other boys. Both of were thickset and looked like bodyguards."Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said the pale boy carelssly, noticing where Harry was looking. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." Ron gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. Draco Malfoy looked at him. "Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."He turned back to Harry. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.

Scared?" Malfoy muttered, so that Lockhart couldn't hear him."You wish." said Harry out of the corner of his mouth.

You’ll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.”He held out his hand to shake Harry’s, but Harry didn’t take it. “I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks,” he said coolly.

Play Quidditch at all?”“No,” Harry said again, wondering what on earth Quidditch cou

Training for the ballet, Potter?

HARRY: "Oh, Draco . . . we can’t. We can’t use it."Draco looks up at Harry, and for the first time — at the bottom of this dreadful pit — they look at each other as friends.DRACO: "We have to find them — if it takes centuries, we must find our sons —

Professor Moody!" said a shocked voice.Professor McGonagall was coming down the marble staircase with her arms full of books."Hello, Professor McGonagall," said Moody calmly, bouncing the ferret still higher."What - what are you doing?" said Professor McGonagall, her eyes following the bouncing ferret's progress through the air."Teaching," said

You foul, lying, evil little cockroach!