Oh, Shut Up Weatherby.

He's A Funny Man, Dumbledore. I Think He Sort Of Wanted To Give Me A Chance. I Think He Knows More Or Less Everything That Goes On Here, You Know. I Reckon He Had A Pretty Good Idea We Were Going To Try, And Instead Of Stopping Us, He Just Taught Us Enough To Help. I Don't Think It Was An Accident He Let Me Find Out How The Mirror Worked. It's Almost Like He Thought I Had The Right To Face Voldemort If I Could.

Some Readers And Commentators Really Want To Scrape Your Insides Out To Make Sense Of Your Work. Others Say, There's The Work, It Speaks For Itself. Personally, I Fall Somewhere In The Middle.

How Do You Feel, Georgie?" Whispered Mrs. Weasley. George's Fingers Groped For The Side Of His Head. "saintlike," He Murmured. "what's Wrong With Him?" Croaked Fred, Looking Terrified. "is His Mind Affected?" "saintlike," Repeated George, Opening His Eyes And Looking Up At His Brother. "you See...i'm Holey, Fred, Geddit?

Fame Is A Fickle Friend, Harry. Celebrity Is As Celebrity Does. Remember That.

One Can Never Have Enough Socks," Said Dumbledore. "another Christmas Has Come And Gone And I Didn't Get A Single Pair. People Will Insist On Giving Me Books.