“He said my blood would male him stronger than if he’s used someone else’s,” Harry told Dumbledore. “He said the protection my – my mother left me – he’d have it, too. And he was right – he could touch me without hurting himself, he touched my face.”
For a fleeting instant, Harry thought he saw a gleam of something like triumph in Dumbledore’s eyes. But next second, Harry was sure he had imagined it, for when Dumbledore had returned to his seat behind the desk, he looked as old and weary as Harry had ever seen him.
da Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire
Good old JK.
Prende per il culo i suoi lettori – seminando indizi che coglierai solo all’ennesima rilettura, dopo aver letto tutti gli altri libri – fin dal 1997.