Things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end, if not always in the way we expect.

'Tell me one last thing,' said Harry. 'Is this real? Or has this been happening inside my head?' Dumbledore beamed at him, and his voice sounded loud and strong in Harry's ears even though the bright mist was descending again, obscuring his figure. 'Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean it is not real?'

Well, I'm sure you'll find someone somewhere who'll have you.

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.

He felt even angrier that Dumbledore was showing signs of weakness. He had no business being weak when Harry wanted to rage and storm at him.

Said Hufflepuff, "I'll teach the lot, And treat them just the same.

We Slytherins are brave, yes, but not stupid. For instance, given the choice, we will always choose to save our own necks.