What Will Come, Will Come; You Just

Don't Be Stupid, It's A Flying House!

He Had No Memory Of Ever Being Hugged Like This, As Though By A Mother. The Full Weight Of Everything He Had Seen That Night Seemed To Fall In Upon Him As Mrs. Weasley Held Him To Her. His Mother's Face, His Father's Voice, The Sight Of Cedric, Dead On The Ground All Started Spinning In His Head Until He Could Hardly Bear It, Until He Was Screwing Up His Face Against The Howl Of Misery Fighting To Get Out Of Him.

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.

Like The Fact That The Person Sirius Cared For The Most About In The World Was You," Said Dumbledore Quietly.

The Realization Of What Would Happen Next Settled Gradually Over Harry In The Long Minutes, Like Softly Falling Snow. "i've Got To Go Back, Haven't I?" "that Is Up To You." "i've Got A Choice?" "oh Yes." Dumbledore Smiled At Him. "we Are In King's Cross, You Say? I Think That If You Decided Not To Go Back, You Would Be Able To…let's Say…board A Train." "and Where Would It Take Me?" "on," Said Dumbledore Simply.