Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?
It matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be.
We are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided.
You know, Minister, I disagree with Dumbledore on many counts...but you cannot deny he's got style...
Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!
What happened down in the dungeons between you and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret, so, naturally the whole school knows.
Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.
But Dumbledore says he doesn't care what they do as long as they don't take him off the Chocolate Frog cards.
Have to? Of course you have to! But only because of you, Harry, won't rest until Voldemort is finished! Think now, for once, if you have never heard of the prophecy! What would you do?
Don't count your owls before they are delivered.
Alas! Earwax!
I see a light in the kitchen. Let us not deprive Molly any longer of the chance to deplore how thin you are.
I was supposed to be waiting up here when you got back, only your Phoenix lot got in the way...” “Yes, they do that,” said Dumbledore.
Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground.
Killing is not so easy as the innocent believe.
Harry, you wonderful boy, you brave, brave man.
But he understood at last what Dumbledore had been trying to tell him. It was, he thought, the difference between being dragged into the arena to face a battle to the death and walking into the arena with your head held high. Some people, perhaps, would say that there was little to choose between the two ways, but Dumbledore knew — and so do I, thought Harry, with a rush of fierce pride, and so did my parents — that there was all the difference in the world.
Only one thing mattered: this was not a Horcrux. Dumbledore had weakened himself by drinking that horrible potion for nothing. Harry crumpled the parchment in his hand and his eyes burned with tears as behind him Fang began to howl.
But somebody else had spoken Snape’s name, quite softly. “Severus . . .” The sound frightened Harry beyond anything he had experienced all evening. For the first time, Dumbledore was pleading. Snape gazed for a moment at Dumbledore, and there was revulsion and hatred etched in the harsh lines of his face. “Severus . . . please . . .” Snape raised his wand and pointed it directly at Dumbledore. “Avada Kedavra!” A jet of green light shot from the end of Snape’s wand and hit Dumbledore squarely in the chest. Harry’s scream of horror never left him; silent and unmoving, he was forced to watch as Dumbledore was blasted into the air. For a split second, he seemed to hang suspended beneath the shining skull, and then he fell slowly backward, like a great rag doll, over the battlements and out of sight.
But you're dead,' said Harry. 'Oh, yes,' said Dumbledore matter-of-factly. 'Then... am I dead too?' 'Ah,' said Dumbledore, smiling still more broadly. 'That is the question, isn't it? On the whole, dear boy, I think not.
