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HP: "Really? Well, I've never seen it myself. But Draco Malfoy is a big fan, and he says I should sign up right away."
HP: "And besides, it couldn't be much more difficult than an average Quidditch match."
JP: "Ugh... This is why eleven year olds have no business trying to be heroes."
HP: "I'm almost twelve..."
JP: "Listen kid, you've spent most of your short life in something resembling an English boarding school, and it clearly shows. You have no idea what real danger is."
HP: "But... but... I've fought monsters before!"
JP: "Your definition of 'fought' is laughable, but I'll humor you. What do you use for weapons?"
HP: "Weapons? Uh, well, I don't really have any weapons. But I have my trusty magic wand."
JP: "A. Magic. Wand. Can you get any more cliched than that?"
HP: "I also have a flying broom, called Firebolt. It's very fast."
JP: "You would be much better off with a spell called Firebolt, but that's beyond your abilities, isn't it?"
HP: "Er, well, I, um, suppose, hmm... Well, it's true I'm still just learning, but I can already cast lots of other kinds of spells! I do believe I can best my opponents in the Playoffs."
HP: "No, really! I'm becoming a very swell magician. Haven't you read my books?"
JP: "I admit, upon the prodding of an ex, I managed to get through a few pages before recoiling with disgust."
HP: "What ever do you mean? Everyone loves my stories."
JP: "To paraphrase Dorothy Parker: Yours is not a novel that should be tossed away lightly. Rather it should be thrown with great force."
HP: "Sir, you are being very unkind. Perhaps I shall cast an embarrassing spell on you and--"
(At this point, I lost patience with my guest and promptly punched Potter in the face.)
HP: "Waah! You bwoke my nodthe!"
JP: "Fix it with your magic, you genderless garden gnome. And get out of my office before you bleed on the tatami mats."
Best Left Forgotten?