Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

“Ron and Hermione will explain everything, dear, I’ve really got to dash,” Mrs. Weasley whispered distractedly.

“Oh, Harry, it’s lovely to see you!” she whispered, pulling him into a rib-cracking hug before holding him at arm’s length and examining him critically. “You’re looking peaky; you need feeding up,

“You’re an Auror?” said Harry, impressed. Being a Dark wizard catcher was the only career he’d ever considered after Hogwarts.

they were still gazing avidly at him. He felt very conscious of the fact that he had not combed his hair for four days.

“Take these straight to Sirius, Ron, and Hermione and don’t come back here without good long replies. Keep pecking them till they’ve written decent-length answers if you’ve got to. Understand?”
Hedwig gave a muffled hooting noise, beak still full of frog.

Why was everyone treating him like some naughty kid? Don’t do any more magic, stay in the house. . . .

and I’ve had enough — OWLS!”

His head was beginning to ache again. He wanted more than anything to get out of the kitchen, away from the Dursleys.

though his fears were by no means banished. Everything seemed to hang on this hearing on the twelfth of August.

“So — so — they — er — they — er — they actually exist, do they — er — dementy-whatsits?”
Aunt Petunia nodded.
Uncle Vernon looked from Aunt Petunia to Dudley to Harry as if hoping somebody was going to shout “April Fool!”