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Quote by Rowling, J.K.

“In every shining moment of happiness is that drop of poison: the knowledge that pain will come again.”

Quote by Rowling, J.K.

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Rowling, J.K.

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“How was it? NEWT: They’re still convinced that you sent me to New York. DUMBLEDORE: You told them I didn’t? NEWT: Yes. Even though you did. A beat. DUMBLEDORE inscrutable, NEWT wanting answers. NEWT: You told me where to find that trafficked Thunderbird, Dumbledore. You knew that I would take him home and you knew I’d have to take him through a Muggle port. DUMBLEDORE: Well, I’ve always felt an affinity with the great magical birds. There’s a story in my family that a phoenix will come to any Dumbledore who is in desperate need. They say my great-great-grandfather had one, but that it took flight when he died, never to return. NEWT: With all due respect, I don’t believe for a minute that’s why you told me about the Thunderbird.”

“I call you children because that is what you are. You have not fended for yourselves, you have not felt the terrible blows that life gives you. As we speak, there is hatred and prejudice residing in our world's heart. Now a man can make a difference in the world, even if it is a small one. We all have fates, including me. We can choose to make that fate one that will bring hope, or one that will bring destruction. Times are changing, and we must grow wiser for it. So now I must encourage you- I must beg you-when you leave these school walls and enter this world, to not be as idiotic and imbecilic as the generation before you.”

“NEWT withdraws his head, still leaning against the wall of the dark alleyway, to find a single black glove hanging in the air in front of him. He looks at it, expressionless. It gives a little wave, then points into the far distance. NEWT looks to where it is pointing. High on the dome of St. Paul’s Cathedral, a tiny human figure raises its arm. NEWT looks back at the glove, which makes as though to shake hands. NEWT takes it, and he and the glove Disapparate. EXT. DOME OF ST. PAUL’S—EVENING Apparating beside a dandyesque forty-five-year-old wizard with graying auburn hair and beard. NEWT hands back his glove. NEWT: Dumbledore. (amused) Were the less conspicuous rooftops full, then? DUMBLEDORE (looking out over city): I do enjoy a view. Nebulus. A swirling fog descends over London. They Disapparate.”

“Standing on a golden perch behind the door was a decrepit-looking bird that resembled a half-plucked turkey. Harry stared at it and the bird looked balefully back, making its gagging noise again. Harry thought it looked very ill. Its eyes were dull and, even as Harry watched, a couple more feathers fell out of its tail. Harry was just thinking that all he needed was for Dumbledore's pet bird to die while he was alone in the office with it, when the bird burst into flames. Harry yelled in shock and backed away into the desk. He looked feverishly around in case there was a glass of water somewhere but couldn't see one; the bird, meanwhile, had become a fireball; it gave one loud shriek and next second there was nothing but a smoldering pile of ash on the floor. The office door opened. Dumbledore came in, looking very somber. "Professor," Harry gasped. "Your bird- I couldn't do anything- he just caught fire-" To Harry's astonishment, Dumbledore smiled. "About time, too," he said. "He's been looking dreadful for days; I've been telling him to get a move on." He chuckled at the stunned look on Harry's face. "Fawkes is a phoenix, Harry. Phoenixes burst into flame when it is time for them to die and are reborn from the ashes. Watch him..." Harry looked down in time to see a tiny, wrinkled, newborn bird poke its head out of the ashes. It was quite as ugly as the old one. "It's a shame you had to see him on a Burning Day," said Dumbledore, seating himself behind his desk. "He's really very handsome most of the time, wonderful red and gold plumage. Fascinating creatures, phoenixes. They can carry immensely heavy loads, their tears have healing powers, and they make highly faithful pets.”

“Дамблдор заговорил медленно, отчетливо, чтобы никто не пропустил ни слова, — я не уйду из школы, пока в школе останется хоть один человек, который будет мне доверять. И еще запомните: здесь, в Хогвартсе, тот, кто просил помощи, всегда ее получал.”

“I’m putting the Elder Wand,” he told Dumbledore, who was watching him with enormous affection and admiration, “back where it came from. It can stay there. If I die a natural death like Ignotus, its power will be broken, won’t it? The previous master will never have been defeated. That’ll be the end of it.” Dumbledore nodded. They smiled at each other. “Are you sure?” said Ron. There was the faintest trace of longing in his voice as he looked at the Elder Wand. “I think Harry’s right,” said Hermione quietly. “That wand’s more trouble than it’s worth,” said Harry. “And quite honestly,” he turned away from the painted portraits, thinking now only of the four-poster bed lying waiting for him in Gryffindor Tower, and wondering whether Kreacher might bring him a sandwich there, “I’ve had enough trouble for a lifetime.”