Grief, it seemed, drove Voldemort out . . . though Dumbledore, of course, would have said that it was love. . . .

He looked out over the ocean and felt closer, this dawn, than ever before, closer to the heart of it all.

his mind full of those things that had come to him in the grave, ideas that had taken shape in the darkness, ideas both fascinating and terrible.

“Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living, and, above all, those who live without love.

They say, still, that no Wizarding duel ever matched that between Dumbledore and Grindelwald in 1945.

Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it.

“How in the name of Merlin’s pants have you managed to get your hands on those Horcrux books?”

Even You-Know-Who can’t split himself into seven.” Harry caught Hermione’s eye and looked away at once.

The suddenness and completeness of death was with them like a presence.