Hello ;)

I do not even know why the hell I'm writing it. I'm a totally selfish being and I guess I'm most probably NOT going to contribute anything constructive to society. Actually, I decided to do SOMETHING about this empty space here when I wanted to point out to someone that I obviously don't even know their gender because their account information is almost blank.

I don't really like the canon Harry Potter, but I like reading fanfiction and I review the stories that catch my attention.

Best quotes:

"And they're off!" The announcer Naruto shouted out suddenly. "The Uchiha leads with a glare to the left! A sneer to the right! Oh! It's brutal! But Gaara is staying calm in the face of this fierce disapproval!"

That was it. Sasuke decided. The dope was going to die!

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"Daddy is going to hell, you know. Some day," he whispered to Tom conspiringly while cleaning him up. The boy grinned toothlessly in answer and grabbed hold of his glasses. Harry chuckled. "Imp. I'll take you with me," he said, snatching the spectacles from the boy's hands with his teeth before turning to the task at hand.

After a moment of thought, he snorted with the absurdity of it all. "Maybe we'll bring granddaddy Voldemort with us too," he muttered and finished what he was doing. Tom giggled at him as he finished dressing the boy and hoisted him up to his arm. "And then," Harry continued to the boy in deathly serious voice while pushing his glasses back on with a grand motion. "We'll have a nice family picnic and roast marshmallows on fires of damnation. Wouldn't that be fun?" he punctuated the words by poking the boy into the belly.

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He pushed on Ron's shoulders gently when Ron lingered, and Ron pulled away reluctantly, still beaming down at him like seven o'clock in the morning was God's gift to mankind.

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Committing Suicide is like saying to God, "You can't fire me, I quit!"

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The man had frozen in shock, eyes wide, as the dratted baby refused to do the proper, socially accepted thing and just die.

‘What…the fuck?’ was the only thought that went through his head.

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After Harry stopped being in denial he felt a great urge to swear. However, he settled on gurgling. Angrily.

A spit bubble of rage followed.

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“No.” Harry was going with that whole ‘don’t look like an ignorant idiot by asking stupid questions’ strategy. It was working so far, although not knowing what they were talking about was really annoying and Harry didn’t approve at all.

“Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I’ll be in Slytherin, all out family have been – imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?”

Harry imagined that the boy was so chatty because he had been locked away in the basement his whole life with only a bottle of glue to talk to. Eventually the glue left him too, just like everyone else he had ever loved, and he gnawed his own toes off in an angsty rage. The whole idea made Harry feel much less rage over the irritating child.

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"Of course, just because we've heard a spine-chilling, blood-curdling scream of the sort to make your very marrow freeze in your bones doesn't automatically mean there's anything wrong" Terry Pratchett

He had a unique stride: it looked as though his body was being dragged forward and his legs had to flail around underneath it, landing wherever they could find room. It wasn't so much a walk as a collapse, indefinitely postponed. Terry Pratchett

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Snape entered the loo, only to be assaulted by the sight of Gilderoy Lockhart emerging from a stall. Snape glanced at the toilet he'd just used, and realized with disdain that it was struggling to flush.

"You stopped up the toilet," he noted dryly.

Lockhart looked flustered. "Actually," and before Snape could react, he'd whipped out his wand, "Obliviate!"

Lulled into the spell, Snape could only listen and accept it as Lockhart informed him, "You stopped up the toilet."

After the other man's departure, the trance crept from Snape's mind, and he glanced, befuddled, at the toilet he'd stopped up, wondering why he still felt like he needed to use the bathroom.

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Hermione's cheeks were going even redder. "You're really evil, did anyone ever tell you that?"

"Miss Granger," Professor Quirrell said gravely, "it can be dangerous to give people compliments like that when they have not been truly earned. The recipient might feel bashful and undeserving and want to do something worthy of your praise. Now what was it you wanted to talk to me about, Miss Granger?"

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"You're hair is black because a crow took a crap on your head and decided that it was the best place he had ever taken a crap, so he decided to stay there so he could keep crapping there the rest of your life. And now your head's so full of crow crap that it's all you can say," Ed said quickly before he could even realize what he was saying. (A Passing Glimpse)