“How thick can you get?”

“There you go, Harry!” Ron shouted over the noise. “You weren’t being thick after all — you were showing moral fiber!”

“Luck can only get you so far.”

“How did you get here?" Harry asked."Flew," said Hagrid."Flew?”

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

“Professor Dumbledore. Can I ask you something?" "Obviously, you've just done so," Dumbledore smiled. "You may ask me one more thing, however." "What do you see when you look in the mirror?" "I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks." Harry stared."One can never have enough socks," said Dumbledore. "Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books."It was only when he was back in bed that it struck Harry that Dumbledore might not have been quite truthful. But then, he thought, as he shoved Scabbers off his pillow, it had been quite a personal question.”

“I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even put a stopper on death.”