This Is Night, Diddykins. That's What We

I Am A Wizard, Not A Baboon Brandishing A Stick.

Well?" Ron Said Finally, Looking Up At Harry. "how Was It?" Harry Considered It For A Moment. "wet," He Said Truthfully. Ron Made A Noise That Might Have Indicated Jubilation Or Disgust, It Was Hard To Tell. "because She Was Crying," Harry Continued Heavily. "oh," Said Ron, His Smile Faded Slightly. "are You That Bad At Kissing?" "dunno," Said Harry, Who Hadn't Considered This, And Immediately Felt Rather Worried. "maybe I Am.

No, There's No University For Wizards. At The Moment I'm Only Planning To Write Seven Harry Potter Books. I Won't Say "never," But I Have No Plans To Write An Eighth Book.

Aha! What Villains Are These, That Trespass Upon My Private Lands! Come To Scorn At My Fall, Perchance? Draw, You Knaves, You Dogs!

I Scared Stephen King.