Gauguin Nostalgic Promenade

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For the frist time, the watching crowd stirred as the hundreds of people around the walls drew breath as one.

　　　"Dumbledore is dead!" Voldemort hurled the words at Harry as in the marble tomb in the grounds of this castle, I have seen it, Potter, and he will not return!"
　　　"Severus Snape wasn't yours," said Harry. "Snape was Dumbledore's. Dumbledore's from the moment you starting hunting down my mother. And you never realized it, because of the thing you can't understand. You never saw Snape cast a Patronus, did you, Riddle?" 　　　Voldemort did not answer. They continued to circle each other like wolves about to tear each other apart.
　　　"Yes, Dumbledore is dead," said Harry calmly, "but you didn't have him killed. He chose his own manner of dying, chose it months before he died, arranged the whole thing with the man you thought was your servant."

　　　"What chldish dream is this?" said Voldemort, but still he did not strike, and his red eyes did not waver from Harry's.