From Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone

'My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands,' said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. 'Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms, I don't see why the first-years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow.' (PS5)

"My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford...You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with...

He stood there, on his stone balcony, staring down on the lawn with his icy gray eyes. It was cloudy, as if it were to rain soon. He would be gone to Hogwarts as a 3rd year student within a week. Draco Lucius Malfoy had a look of pure hatred on his eyes, jealousy laced in his eyes, mind, and heart.
'Harry Potter, the "Chosen One?" Hmph. As if. Everyone knows it is I, Draco Lucius Malfoy that is the Heir of Slytherin...'
But something broke his train of thought. It was his mother, Narcissa Malfoy (nee Black) sitting in the creaking rocking chair, her stomach as round as a watermelon. She was expecting...