Harry: - I'm 14...
Rita Skeeter: - about to compete against three students who are not only vastly more emotionally mature than yourself, but who've mastered spells that you wouldn't attempt in your dizziest daydreams. Concerned?
Harry: I dunno, I haven't really thought about it...
Rita Skeeter: Because you're no ordinary boy of 12 are you?
Harry: 14.
Rita Skeeter: Your story's legend. Do you think it was the trauma of your past that made you so keen to enter such a dangerous tournament?
Harry: No, I didn't enter.
Rita Skeeter: Of course you didn't.
[winks]
Rita Skeeter: Everyone loves a rebel, Harry. Speaking of your parents, were they alive, how do you think they'd feel? Proud? Or concerned that your attitude shows, at best, a pathological need for attention? The worst psychotic death wish.
[Harry glances at Rita's notes]
Harry: Hey, my eyes aren't glistening with the ghosts of my past!
-
Professor McGonagall: Professor Moody! What are you doing?
Professor Moody: Teaching.
Professor McGonagall: Teach - is that a student?
Professor Moody: Technically it's a ferret.
-
Ron: "Why spiders? Why couldn't it be 'follow the butterflies'?"
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