Like dreams, small creeks grow into mighty rivers.
True, I talk of dreams,Which are the children of an idle brain,Begot of nothing but vain fantasy,Which is as thin of substance as the air,And more inconstant than the wind, who woos Even now the frozen bosom of the north,And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence,Turning his side to the dew-dropping south.
Mr. Moony presents his compliments to Professor Snape, and begs him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people's business.Mr. Prongs agrees with Mr. Moony, and would like to add that Professor Snape is an ugly git.Mr. Padfoot would like to register his astonishment that an idiot like that ever became a professor.Mr. Wormtail bids Professor Snape good day, and advises him to wash his hair, the slimeball.