Tell me one last thing,” said Harry. “Is this real? Or has this been happening inside my head?”
Dumbledore beamed at him, and his voice sounded loud and strong in Harry’s ears even though the bright mist was descending again, obscuring his figure.
“Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?
Your wand, Lucius. I require your wand.”
Malfoy glanced sideways at his wife. She was staring straight
ahead, quite as pale as he was, her long blonde hair hanging down
her back, but beneath the table her slim fingers closed briefly on his
wrist. At her touch, Malfoy put his hand into his robes, withdrew
a wand, and passed it along to Voldemort, who held it up in front
of his red eyes, examining it closely.