Madam Pince, Our Librarian, Tells Me That

Would You Like Me To [kill You] Now?" Asked Snape, His Voice Heavy With Irony. "or Would You Like A Few Moments To Compose An Epitaph?

Everything Had Shattered. The Fact That It Was All Still There — The Walls And The Chairs And The Children’s Pictures On The Walls — Meant Nothing. Every Atom Of It Had Been Blasted Apart And Reconstituted In An Instant, And Its Appearance Of Permanence And Solidity Was Laughable; It Would Dissolve At A Touch, For Everything Was Suddenly Tissue-thin And Friable.

He's Only Silent Because He's Too Thick To String Two Words Together.

Wands Are Only As Powerful As The Wizards Who Use Them. Some Wizards Just Like To Boast That Theirs Are Bigger And Better Than Other People's.

We Slytherins Are Brave, Yes, But Not Stupid. For Instance, Given The Choice, We Will Always Choose To Save Our Own Necks.