The Wand Chooses The Wizard.

I've Been Writing My Entire Life, And I'll Always Write.

What Would Come, Would Come...and You Would Have To Meet It, When It Did.

Ah" Said Dumbledore Gently, "yes I Thought We Might Hit That Little Snag!" "snag?" Said Fudge, His Voice Still Vibrating With Joy. "i See No Snag, Dumbledore!" "well," Said Dumbledore Apologetically, "i'm Afraid I Do." "oh, Really?" "well It's Just That You Seem To Be Labouring Under The Delusion That I Am Going To -- Come Quietly. I Am Afraid I Am Not Going To Come Quietly At All, Cornelius. I Have Absolutely No Intention Of Being Sent To Azkaban. I Could Break Out, Of Course -- But What A Waste Of Time, And Frankly, I Can Think Of A Whole Host Of Things I Would Rather Be Doing.

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.

You See, I, Unlike You, Have Been Made A Prefect, Which Means That I, Unlike You, Have The Power To Hand Out Punishments.” “yeah,” Said Harry, “but You, Unlike Me, Are A Git.