“There are guns, knives of all sorts, spears, bows and arrows, and of course, your wand,” Rodolphus says, slowly getting to his feet and making his way to the bar. “But I want to remind you that anything,
anything! can be used as a weapon, either for offense or defense. Even rocks, though their range and accuracy is limited. This for example.” He picks up a chopstick from the bar and holds it up, examining it. “Even this can be used as a weapon.” He saunters back to his table, where two people are seated, immobile, staring at nothing. “Don’t believe me?” he grins around. “Watch!” And he places the chopstick at the eye of the bushy-haired girl and pushes slowly, with steady pressure. There isn’t an audible sound, but the end of the chopstick disappears. The girl doesn’t react at all; she just continues sitting and staring, a half-centimeter of chopstick embedded in her eye. “You have to be careful not to go too far, too fast,” Rodolphus explains, a professor delivering a lecture. “Or you’ll penetrate the brain case before you’re ready.” He withdraws the chopstick, its end now glistening with eyeball jelly. “There aren’t many things worse than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick,” Rodolphus chuckles. “But there are things just as bad.” And he takes the chopstick and jams it into the ear of the gangly red-headed boy at the table. The chopstick goes in a bit farther this time. Again, there is no reaction to the assault. Rodolphus pulls out the now-sticky chopstick. “Have to see if the Bertie Bott’s people might want this,” he says, appraising the goo. “So you see,” he goes on, propping his elbow on the head of the girl, who now has a shiny trail running down her face. “Just about anything you can put your hands on can be used as a weapon.” He tosses the chopstick on the table. “As for my favourite,” he shrugs, “whatever does the most damage.”