“And Death spoke to them —’”“Sorry,” interjected Harry, “but Death spoke to them?”“It’s a fairy tale, Harry!”“Right, sorry. Go on.”

“The words came out before Harry had quite got his tongue around them.“Wangoballwime?”“Sorry?” said Cho.“D’you — d’you want to go to the ball with me?” said Harry. Why did he have to go red now? Why?“Oh!” said Cho, and she went red too. “Oh Harry, I’m really sorry,” and she truly looked it. “I’ve already said I’ll go with someone else.”

“The last words Albus Dumbledore spoke to the pair of us?' Harry is the best hope we have. Trust him.”

“And the people listened, and their faces were quiet with listening. The story tellers, gathering attention into their tales, spoke in great rhythms, spoke in great words because the tales were great, and the listeners became great through them.”

“And when the creature spoke, it used Harry’s mouth, so that in his agony he felt his jaw move...“Kill me now Dumbledore...”Blinded and dying, every part of him screaming for release, Harry felt the creature use him again...“If death is nothing, Dumbledore, kill the boy...”

“He spoke rapidly in-between his tender kisses. "I love you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. The women...I was so scared to touch you. You didn't want me...I couldn't take the pain. I tried to get over you. Every time with them, I was with you. I'm so sorry...I love you.”