J. K. Rowling
J. K. Rowling
Joanne "Jo" Rowling, OBE, FRSL, pen names J. K. Rowling and Robert Galbraith, is a British novelist, screenwriter and film producer best known as the author of the Harry Potter fantasy series. The books have gained worldwide attention, won multiple awards, and sold more than 400 million copies. They have become the best-selling book series in history and been the basis for a series of films which is the second highest-grossing film series in history. Rowling had overall approval on the...
NationalityEnglish
ProfessionYoung Adult Author
Date of Birth31 July 1965
CityYate, England
They’re evacuating the younger kids and everyone’s meeting in the Great Hall to get organized. We’re fighting.
Ah well... wand still in your jeans? Both buttocks still on? Okay, let’s go.
Twitchy little ferret, aren't you, Malfoy?
You are nearly there," said James. "Very close. We are...so proud of you.
You haven't got a letter on yours," George observed. "I suppose she thinks you don't forget your name. But we're not stupid-we know we're called Gred and Forge.
Perhaps just one more, Master Harry, for luck?
Well, you're expelling us aren't you?" said Ron. "Not today, Mr. Weasley." Snape looked as though Christmas had been canceled.
Harry looked around; there was Ginny running toward him; she had a hard blazing look in her face as she threw her arms around him. And without thinking, without planning it, without worrying about the fact that fifty people were watching, Harry kissed her. After several long moments, or it might have been half an hour-or possibly several sunlit days- they broke apart.
Look...at...me..." he whispered. The green eyes found the black, but after a second, something in the depths of the dark pair seemed to vanish, leaving them fixed, blank, and empty. The hand holding Harry thudded to the floor, and Snape moved no more.
The inner eye does not see upon command.
Hello, Harry" said George, beaming at him. "We thought we heard your dulcet tones." "You don't want to bottle up your anger like that, Harry, let it all out," said Fred, also beaming. "There might be a couple of people fifty miles away who didn't hear you.
Listeners, that brings us to the end of another Potterwatch. We don’t know when it will be possible to broadcast again, but you can be sure we shall be back. Keep twiddling those dials: the next password will be ‘Mad-Eye.’ Keep each other safe. Keep faith. Good night.
The last words Albus Dumbledore spoke to the pair of us?' Harry is the best hope we have. Trust him.
The ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming.