• The National Wizard’s Convention took place once every millennium. All of the most powerful sorcerers, warlocks, and witches from the far reaches of the universe attended. The keynote speaker for this year’s gathering was Saruman, the right hand of Sauron.
    A man garbed in a pure white robe, with a knee-length beard to match, sat in the back of the auditorium, puffing out shapes on a pipe. “Ah, now he was a tricky little bugger to defeat!” he chuckled as a smoke sea serpent snaked its way out of the corner of the ancient man’s mouth.
    Next to him sat a dignified, yet quirky fellow, rather similar in age and appearance, although clearly they did not share the same taste in clothing. Instead of a simple ivory outfit, this man’s robes were midnight blue and smattered with silver crescents. Eyes twinkling over the top of half-moon spectacles perched delicately on his long nose, he burst out laughing. “You think that he was a problem? Try fighting for over seventeen years against the most evil man who ever lived, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named! I’m pretty sure that Lord Voldemort beats Saruman any day.”
    The first man snorted. “Seventeen years? Imagine, if you can, centuries of attempting to recover a ring of ancient and twisted power and journeying across the entirety of Middle Earth to a volcano guarded by thousands of the most gruesome and horrific orcs, all the while hiding from an Eye that cannot be hid from! Your life has been an easy ride compared to mine.”
    Pulling out a pouch from within his cloak, the second man retorted, “Yes, I’m sure your life was hard, smoking with those hairy midgets you call hobbits… such uncivilized folk.” Having said this, he withdrew a jellybean from the bag and popped it into his mouth.
    The grandfatherly, pristine man extracted an oak staff from within his cloak and twisted in his chair to face the person who had thus far proved to be an ornery fellow. “And who do you think you are? For I am Gandalf the White Wizard of Middle Earth, formerly Gandalf the Grey.”
    “Yes, and I am Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards. My name is longer.” He stroked his snow-white beard triumphantly and turned back to the speaker. “I win.”
    Gandalf’s mouth dropped open as he stared dumbstruck at the one man who had ever mocked him so openly (besides Saruman, but he had obviously been taught his lesson). “Do you want to talk about winning, old man? I happen to recall that you were defeated by one of Voldemort’s servants. Also, I manage to remember that I didn’t die battling anything in Middle Earth! You were killed by a man. How horrible it must have been.” A smirk marred his otherwise kind face, daring his adversary to continue to oppose him.
    Dumbledore froze, appalled. How dare this man question his motives of sacrificing himself to Severus Snape? “I’ll have you know, that because I allowed myself to be killed, my student and protégée, Harry Potter, was able to destroy Lord Voldemort,” He called out defiantly, defending the boy he had become a father-figure to. “And what’s that about not dying? What about the Balrog?”
    Laughing grimly, he replied, “I fell through the core of Middle Earth, battling that monstrous creature from the very depths of hell all the way down to a dismal inferno. Finally, I managed to defeat the beast, and returned to the surface of our world as the White Wizard, no longer grey, and struck down that miserable man up there.” He gestured with an elegant arm up at the podium, where Saruman had noticed his arguing listeners. The speaker gulped visibly, with sweat pouring down his neck and forehead, no doubt afraid of the untold powers of the wizard who had once crushed him.
    “I win.”
    A fearsome fire burned in Dumbledore’s eyes that would send even the most dastardly evil-doer cowering back to his mother. “You insult me for the last time Gandalf! By the rights of all wizards in the universe, I challenge you to a duel!” The Headmaster of Hogwarts rose to his feet, drew the Elder Wand, and pointed it precisely at the other wizard’s throat.
    With a ferocity that surprised his opponent, Gandalf leapt off his chair, swept it aside,and thundered, “You shall not win!” He planted his feet firmly on the ground and slammed his staff down with all his might. A great tremor ran through the floor, splitting it in two. Tongues of hellfire licked over the chasm in the ground, causing shadows to dance across the conference room.
    The professor brandished his wand and roared like the lion that represented his Hogwarts House Gryffindor. “Aguamenti!” Water cascaded down on the flames, dousing them in an instant. “Your petty tricks won’t work against me, for I am the greatest wizard that ever lived!” Dumbledore snapped his fingers and a broomstick came zooming out of nowhere. Leaping aboard his enchanted ride, he called out, “I bet Frodo and Sam would’ve had a helluva easier time if their wizard friend would’ve packed them a couple of these!”
    Not to be outdone, Gandalf summoned one of the great eagles and climbed onto his majestic mount. As the gigantic bird took flight, he shouted back at his nemesis, “Only witches ride brooms! Real men ride beasts!” The eagle swooped and dived at Dumbledore as the White Wizard’s staff began to glow eerily, sparks crackling off. Bellowing a word of power, a bolt of lightning leapt from his staff…And nailed Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore square in the temple. Struck unconscious, the once-great Headmaster toppled off his broom, his Bertie Bott’s Every Flavored beans spilling out of his grasp and onto the marbled floor.
    Thus proving that in the age old debate of Dumbledore vs. Gandalf, the White Wizard conquers all.