— Yeah, c'mon, Ron. We'll walk you off the Astronomy Tower and see how you come out looking.
— Probably a right sight better than he normally does.
— Does it hurt? Dying?
— Quicker than falling asleep.
Harry Potter: Professor? Is this all real? Or is it just happening inside my head?
Albus Dumbledore: Of course it's happening inside your head, Harry. Why should that mean that it's not real?
— Oh my god. What am I going to do? My wifeās all alone downstairs?
— Ron. You donāt have a wife.
— Oh. Right.
— Exactly how did you get out of the castle, Harry?
— Through the front door sir.
ā Thank you for that assessment, Mr. Weasley. Maybe if I were to transfigure Mr. Potter and yourself into a pocketwatch, maybe one of you would be on time.
ā We got lost.
ā Then perhaps a map? I trust you don't need one to find your seats.
— I assume right about now youāre wondering why Iāve brought you here, am I right?
— After all these years, I just sort of roll with it, sir.
— Um... have you ever fixed a nose before?
— No. But I've done several toes, and how different are they, really?
— ... Okay, yeah, sure, give it a go.
— Episkey! [a loud crack]
— Augh...!
[rubs his nose gingerly; looks at Luna]
— Well? How do I look?
— Exceptionally ordinary.
— ... Brilliant.
— Hey! She's only interested in you because she thinks you're the Chosen One.
— But I am the Chosen One. Sorry... kidding!