I knew no one who'd ever been in the public eye.

Death comes for us all in the end.

Longbottom, if brains were gold, you'd be poorer than Weasley, and that's saying something.

Am I about to discover where you, Ron, and Hermione disappeared to while you were supposed to be in the back room of Fred and George's shop?" How did you...?" Harry, please. You're talking to the man who raised Fred and George.

Jealous?...Of what? I don't want a foul scar right across my head, thanks. I don't think getting your head cut open makes you that special, myself.

I think they ought to know. You do them a disservice by not confiding something this important to them.” “I didn’t want —” “— to worry or frighten them?” said Dumbledore, surveying Harry over the top of his half-moon spectacles. “Or perhaps, to confess that you yourself are worried and frightened? You need your friends, Harry. As you so rightly said, Sirius would not have wanted you to shut yourself away.

Would it hurt to die?