DW Con 2006. I distinctly remember having waited a looooong time, in costume, with a heavy stamps album under my arm. Hadn't slept much the night before, so it was not as articulate as I would have wished it to be. It probably wasn't even words, until the bit when the Man in the Hat asked if that was a Sorting Hat on my head, which woke me up, since I had to explain why, please, not the pit with the spikes.
On the Sunday evening I would have had the occasion to ask a few questions, when he stayed chatting and telling us stories until 2am, but that would have meant interrupting. Heresy!
What's the good of having mastery over cosmic balance and knowing the secrets of fate if you can't blow something up?