"O, my Luve is like ___ . . . ": Burns

Usage examples of ared.

We­as­ley had ap­pe­ared out of thin air at the ga­te, ac­com­pa­ni­ed by Ru­fus Scrim­ge­o­ur, ins­tantly re­cog­ni­zab­le by his ma­ne of griz­zled ha­ir.

His skin ap­pe­ared yel­lo­wish and waxy in the fi­re­light, and his eyes we­re sun­ken and sha­do­wed.

Dud­ley shrank ne­ared to his mot­her at the sight of the witch and wi­zard.

Alt­ho­ugh rat­her to­uc­hed he was ne­vert­he­less qu­ite re­li­eved that Dud­ley ap­pe­ared to ha­ve ex­ha­us­ted his abi­lity to exp­ress his fe­elings.

Hag­rid kic­ked the mo­tor­bi­ke in­to li­fe: It ro­ared li­ke a dra­gon, and the si­de­car be­gan to vib­ra­te.

As they so­ared up­ward, away from the two re­ma­ining De­ath Eaters, Harry spat blo­od out of his mo­uth, po­in­ted his wand at the fal­ling si­de­car, and yel­led, “Con­f­rin­go!

We­as­ley re­ap­pe­ared car­rying a bot­tle of brandy, which she han­ded to Hag­rid.

A thest­ral had just so­ared in­to sight and lan­ded a few fe­et from them.

They didn’t know the­re wo­uld be se­ven Harrys, that con­fu­sed them the mo­ment we ap­pe­ared, and in ca­se you’ve for­got­ten, it was Mun­dun­gus who sug­ges­ted that lit­tle bit of skul­ldug­gery.

We­as­ley, who ap­pe­ared at the ga­te mo­ments la­ter, la­den with lug­ga­ge and le­ading a be­a­uti­ful blon­de wo­man in long, le­af gre­en ro­bes, who co­uld be Fle­ur’s mot­her.

We­as­ley, co­ming thro­ugh the ga­te with what ap­pe­ared to be a gi­ant, be­ach-ball-si­zed Snitch flo­ating in front of her.

Of co­ur­se, he vos ne­ver po­wer­ful in this co­untry, they sa­id he fe­ared Dumb­le­do­re — and rightly, se­e­ing how he vos fi­nis­hed.

Fred and Ge­or­ge had long sin­ce di­sap­pe­ared in­to the dark­ness with a pa­ir of Fle­ur’s co­usins.

He sta­red ahe­ad of him, ba­rely no­ti­cing what was go­ing on aro­und him, and did not re­ali­ze that Her­mi­one had ap­pe­ared out of the crowd un­til she drew up a cha­ir be­si­de him.

Harry slip­ped in­to a bo­oth first and Ron sat next to him op­po­si­te Her­mi­one, who had her back to the ent­ran­ce and did not li­ke it: She glan­ced over her sho­ul­der so fre­qu­ently she ap­pe­ared to ha­ve a twitch.