Twilight fell: The sky turned to a light, dusky purple littered with tiny silver stars.

You are — truly your father’s son, Harry. . . .

We shall trespass upon your aunt and uncle's hospitality only a little longer.' You will, will you?' Yes,' said Dumbledore simply, 'I shall.

Somewhere out in the darkness, a phoenix was singing in a way Harry had never heard before: a stricken lament of terrible beauty. And Harry felt, as he had felt about phoenix song before, that the music was inside him, not without: It was his own grief turned magically to song.

My word, Severus, that I shall never reveal the best of you?' Dumbledore sighed, looking down into Snape's ferocious, anguished face. 'If you insist.

There was a lot more to magic, as Harry quickly found out, than waving your wand and saying a few funny words.

He had fought back with every weapon in his arsenal, being alternatively obtuse, evasive and pedantic, for it was wonderful how you could obscure an emotional issue by appearing to seek precision.