When You Have Seen As Much Of

Yeah, We’ll Call You,” Muttered Ron As The Knight Disappeared, “if We Ever Need Someone Mental.

And Harry, With The Unerring Skill Of The Seeker, Caught The Wand In His Free Hand As Voldemort Fell Backward, Arms Splayed, The Slit Pupils Of The Scarlet Eyes Rolling Upward. Tom Riddle Hit The Floor With A Mundane Finality, His Body Feeble And Shrunken, The White Hands Empty, The Snakelike Face Vacant And Unknowing. Voldemort Was Dead, Killed By His Own Rebounding Curse, And Harry Stood With Two Wands In His Hands, Staring Down At His Enemy's Shell.

I Know How To Use A Fellytone Now.

Yeah, Quirrell Was A Great Teacher. There Was Just That Minor Drawback Of Him Having Lord Voldemort Sticking Out Of The Back Of His Head!

What Will Come, Will Come; You Just Have To Be There To Meet It.