As entrances go, his was a bit more flashy, with purple smoke and him floating in the middle of the room.
"Hey! My sabbatical's supposed to be in Tahiti, not Scotland!"
But no matter how many times he poofed, he just reappeared in the Sorting Room.
(
Oh fine. If I'm stuck here, may as well fill this out. )
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I'm bloody serious.
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Have a good day, Squib.
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"What do you judge? You're not related to the clown who judges bread contests, are you?"
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"No, nothing that fun. I'm a court judge."
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Why was he the one living in a sanitarium again?
"Sooooo...Justice. Thoughts? Got some?"
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"ARE YOU A MONSTER?"
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And he turned toward the newcomer, one Ian Malcolm.
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