“He’s gone, Harry told himself. He’s gone. He had to keep thinking it as he washed and dressed, as though repetition would dull the shock of it. He’s gone and he’s not coming back. And that was the simple truth of it, Harry knew, because their protective enchantments meant that it would be impossible, once they vacated this spot, for Ron to find them again.”

“Such loyalty is admirable, of course,” said Scrimgeour, who seemed to be restraining his irritation with difficulty, “but Dumbledore is gone, Harry. He’s gone.”“He will only be gone from the school when none here are loyal to him,” said Harry, smiling in spite of himself.”

“Ben is ten and he’s dead. But he’s not gone. Not for me.”

“I’m sorry for everything.” Then he turns and pushes back into the woods, and he’s gone.”

“She just keeps saying "He’s gone.”

“Hang on . . .” Harry muttered to Ron. “There’s an empty chair at the staff table. . . . Where’s Snape?”"Maybe he's ill!" said Ron hopefully. “Maybe he’s left,” said Harry, “because he missed out on the Defense Against the Dark Arts job again!”“Or he might have been sacked!” said Ron enthusiastically. “I mean, everyone hates him —”“Or maybe,” said a very cold voice right behind them, “he’s waiting to hear why you two didn’t arrive on the school train.”Harry spun around. There, his black robes rippling in a cold breeze, stood Severus Snape.”