Let me out," Harry said again. "No," Dumbledore repeated. "If you don't - if you keep me in here - if you don't let me-" "By all means continue destroying my possessions," said Dumbledore. "I daresay I have too many.

And tears came before he could stop them, boiling hot then instantly freezing on his face, and what was the point in wiping them off? Or pretending? He let them fall.

I would always want printed books.

If he doesn't stop trying to save your life he's going to kill you.

From this point forth, we shall be leaving the firm foundation of fact and journeying together through the murky marshes of memory into thickets of wildest guesswork.

Of all the subjects on this planet, I think my parents would have been hard put to name one less useful than Greek mythology to securing the keys to an executive bathroom.

Killing rips the soul apart.