Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince - J.K. Rowling

J.K. Rowling
HARRY POTTER AND THE HALF-BLOOD PRINCE
“Of course I don’t,” said Dumbledore. “And I don’t think for a moment
you expected me to. Nevertheless, you came here, you asked, you must have
had a purpose.”
Voldemort stood up. He looked less like Tom Riddle than ever, his features
thick with rage. “This is your final word?”
“It is,” said Dumbledore, also standing.
“Then we have nothing more to say to each other.”
“No, nothing,” said Dumbledore, and a great sadness filled his face. “The
time is long gone when I could frighten you with a burning wardrobe and
force you to make repayment for your crimes. But I wish I could, Tom I
wish I could “
For a second, Harry was on the verge of shouting a pointless warning: He
was sure that Voldemort’s hand had twitched toward his pocket and his
wand; but then the moment had passed, Voldemort had turned away, the
door was closing, and he was gone.
Harry felt Dumbledore’s hand close over his arm again and moments
later, they were standing together on almost the same spot, but there was no
snow building on the window ledge, and Dumbledore’s hand was blackened
and dead-looking once more.
“Why?” said Harry at once, looking up into Dumbledore’s face. “Why
did he come back? Did you ever find out?”
“I have ideas,” said Dumbledore, “but no more than that.”
“What ideas, sir?”
“I shall tell you, Harry, when you have retrieved that memory from Professor
Slughorn,” said Dumbledore. “When you have that last piece of the
jigsaw, everything will, I hope, be clear to both of us.”
Harry was still burning with curiosity and even though Dumbledore had
walked to the door and was holding it open for him, he did not move at once.
“Was he after the Defense Against the Dark Arts job again, sir? He didn’t
say.”
“Oh, he definitely wanted the Defense Against the Dark Arts job,” said
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