Round Two ~ Future Ferret Challenges Options

[cherabela]

Sockless_Person

Ear Wax Flavour
Floo Ferret



Watch out for that beetle!

She clung on to the window-ledge, regardless of the tormenting gales and slashing rain beating down upon her, vowing to crush her. Her persistence was one, which not many possessed. Someone had carelessly left the window open, and she would have never missed such a chance to return in that same spotlight she had once embraced. This was her chance. She scuttled a bit closer to the warm indoors.

Fudge sat in his chair, deep shadows under his eyes, and a look as if many years had passed over him suddenly. He seemed even too weary to be sitting there.

Rita pricked her antlers as the door of the Minister’s office opened. What she heard was highly interesting to her. ‘So Fudge fears Dumbledore will take his place?’ she asked, silent to all ears, as the Ministry official walked out of the room. ‘I can already see the title! “Ratty-dore as Minister?” Now I wonder if-’

But a sudden gust of wind came beating unexpectedly upon her, and she found herself being flown into Fudge’s office. The Minister for Magic was for too deep in thought to note a black beetle zooming around unsuspended, trying to make its way as close to him as possible like a very eager fan. She settled on a velvet coloured book, which said, Death Omens: What to Do When You Know the Worst Is Coming in gold lettering.

‘Fudge has started believing in death omens now? Interesting. This will keep the Ministry busy,’ she thought, satisfied. Rita saw Fudge get up, trudge over to a small cabinet and produce a half-empty bottle of Ogden’s Old Firewhisky.

‘Fudge is drinking?’ she said, her eyes bulging slightly. ‘I wish Bozo were here. He’d be able to get a great picture of the monkey-fool drinking his place as Minister goodbye. That would do the front page of the Prophet! Yes, “Drunk Minister Considers”.

A shade of red bustled into the room. It was Percy Weasley with a stack of papers, which seemed too heavy for his arms to lift. “I have the papers Sir,” he said pompously, placing the pile neatly in the centre of Fudge’s office desk, which Rita missed by mere inches. “More owls are coming in about the demen-”

He stopped abruptly, seeing the Minister’s face getting even paler. Silence reigned for a while, which through the long year she had been a Daily Prophet reporter, Rita had learned to obey. “And I have sent Dolores Umbridge the flowers you requested,” he added hastily.

‘Dolores Umbridge?!’ Rita thought, her insides wanting to scream with excitement. ‘The woman who was said to have turned Hogwarts into a battlefield and has now become a freak herself? I simply must go pay her a visit. I’m sure she’d be very happy to allow me an interview!’

Fudge had resumed drinking his whisky in a slow and hesitant manner, and so Rita turned her attention to Percy, obviously noting that the Minister was losing his famed attention from others.

‘He’s Arthur Weasley’s son,’ she said to herself, as Percy, seeing that he was no longer needed, left the office to get back to his work. ‘He’d surely feel ignored if I didn’t go check on him,’ she thought.

She scuttled to the edge of the desk and peered down. Certainly not! She’d be dead before she hit the floor if she jumped, and then who could produce such an amazing article? Getting down would be a difficult process. Ah, but she was the famed Rita Skeeter and could always find the proper solution to achieving a scoop.

Seeing that Fudge had his back turned to her, she donned her wings and flew her way to the safe ground and left the office. Avoiding the feet of busy Ministry workers, she scuttled close to the elevator. She got on when the golden grille slid back, as if it were a very common thing for a black beetle to use this means of transport. If the sole Ministry worker in the elevator with her, had taken his eyes from his copy of the Daily Prophet and looked down, he would have noticed the comical touch to the scene he had found himself in. He was a stooped, timid-looking old wizard, with fluffy white hair.

The cool female voice finally announced, “Level Two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot Administration Services.” Coincidentally, it also happened to be the man in the elevator’s destination too.

She scuttled along, trying hard not to make it seem too obvious that she was no ordinary beetle. Dodging feet was a more difficult process than before. Once, she was nearly hit by a flying memo, which seemed to be finding it rather hard to steer its way correctly due to its excessive weight.

‘Turn this corner, then that,’ she said to herself. ‘Arthur Weasley will be so pleased to see me!’ She passed through a door, which bore a tarnished plaque reading, Misuse of Muggle Artifacts. Instantly, a violent jet of purple sparks came down to greet her. This journey was turning out to be far too perilous than she had imagined.

Arthur Weasley was standing behind his desk with a rusty kettle in front of him, which had a pus green liquid frothing out of it, as it occasionally emitted purple sparks.

“Good morning Arthur,” said the man from the elevator as he walked inside, sitting at the only other desk.

“Good morning Perkins,” Arthur Weasley replied politely. Despite the false and harsh rumours concerning it, the Weasley family was quite known for being a kind, honourable, and hospitable wizarding family.

Perkins was now looking at the kettle on his partner’s desk. “Is it bad?”

“Well not much. But it has already caused some minor problems,” he explained, shooting a glance at one of his posters on the wall, which used to show a dismantled engine. Now, one could admire the burnt remains of the spot where a jet of sparks had left its marks. “It’s nothing I can’t handle,” Arthur said as an afterthought. “It also has a wire attached to it for ekeltricity, see?” he said excitedly pointing at it.

Rita started looking around, disappointed at how boring this office could prove to be, in her opinion. Looking out of the door, she saw a flaming strawberry-red chunk of hair pass by. Its colour was so violent that it seemed to be radiating heat, and making everything else around it seem pale. Deciding it would probably be far more interesting, she set off after the blood-red-headed figure.

“He actually said that Tonks?” she heard a young woman ask the redhead.

“Yes he did. I thought he was joking,” Tonks replied truthfully.

‘Nymphadora Tonks,’ Rita pondered. She could vaguely remember a woman by that name. ‘Yes she’s an Auror,’ she said at last, remembering.

The two women approached a large fireplace, which had a pot sitting on the mantelpiece.

“Why don’t we just apparate?” the woman asked.

“No. I want to see how the green flames look with the colour of my hair,” Tonks said grinning, as she took some powder from the pot, spilling some in the process.

“All you need now is a red dress,” said the other, giggling.

“Yes, but I need to go to Madam Malkin’s anyway,” Tonks said, stepping right into the fireplace.

Realising that they were probably going to Diagon Alley, Rita flew into the fireplace with Tonks. She couldn’t apparate without transforming in her human form again; it wasn’t worth revealing her secret, so the Floo Network was the only way.

Tonks cried, “Diagon Alley!” and they were both engulfed in green flames. Rita felt her head spin slightly, although she had done this many times before.

She came out at the other end to be met with the dazzling sunlight shining on the busy and packed streets of Diagon Alley. She decided to maintain her animagus form for a while longer, and started making her way through the crowd of people laden with their shopping. She turned a corner to be met with the complete opposite of the alley she had just left. A mouldy wooden sign announced her entrance in Knockturn Alley. She transformed into her human form and walked briskly down the street, talking to herself.

“I need to buy some new Quick Quotes Quills. That silly Muggle-born girl won’t be able to stop me from publishing this time,” she said, grinning in a sly manner. “I need to find Bozo,” she continued. “I’m sure he’ll be very glad to see me again.”

She continued walking, thinking of things she could write about Fudge. For that was Rita Skeeter. She would go to any means, in her sly and cunning manner, to achieve the report blinded people would read. Yet, she could never learn the secret admirations and true ambitions a person deeply believes in, like an obsolete dingbat’s desire for new socks.



And I sing, “Odd socks here, Odd socks there, Odd socks everywhere!”

[timeturner]

Mother_Hen

Leader of the Pack
Floo Ferret


Mum Knows Best

As I listened to my parents chastise the twins again for eavesdropping, I knew I had to do something. There was no way that Fred and George's claim of not having any more extendable ears was true. Poor, trusting Mum and Dad probably believed them too. The twins didn't want to lie, they just couldn't help themselves. Like Dad says, the boys really don't mean any harm by listening in when they shouldn't be, they just want to help. The thing is, my parents are right when they say us kids are too young to know about Order business. It's dangerous. But my stubborn brothers just wouldn't listen to reason.

Suddenly, I had an idea. I could sneak into the twins' room and find their hidden sets of extendable ears. Without the magical devices, Fred and George wouldn't catch even a snippet of information that they weren't supposed to hear. The thought of what I was about to do made me feel guilty, but really, it was for their own good.

Making sure no one else was around, I snuck quietly to the door of Fred and George's room and wriggled the doorknob. Locked. If only underage magic was allowed outside of school! I realised without being able to use magic, I had no way of unlocking the door. The twins had a book describing how Muggles open locks, but it was probably in their room too. Disappointed, I stood in the hall trying to think of another way. Then it came to me, the window. Dad had told tales of Muggle children climbing trees. If a Muggle could climb a tree, certainly a Witch could too. As luck would have it, there was a huge willow, not of the whomping variety, right outside Fred and George's bedroom window.

I ran down the stairs and out the front door. Ron was outside, but too distracted to pay attention to what I was doing. Mum had him de-gnoming the garden as punishment for his cheek. The old willow tree was in the perfect position. A branch ran right to the ledge of the twins' window. The large tree seemed suddenly intimidating, but I had no other option. I gripped the tree and began my ascent. The bark scratched my sensitive skin and the footholds were few. After alot of climbing, I was finally high enough to reach the ledge. I crawled along the sprawling branch and tried to open the window. It stuck for a moment before yielding to my struggles.

I launched myself through the open window, crashing to the floor of the twins' room. I tried heaving myself into a sitting position, but found myself stuck to the floor. What had I landed on, I thought with horror. Fred and George must have been inventing something new. Perhaps that was why they had been locked in their room for the last two days. If only they could apply their genius to something less...sticky. With difficulty I managed to lift my right arm. It was covered in green goo, but didn't appear damaged. I held tight to the footboard of George's bed and pulled myself up. I turned around and realised I had landed directly on top of their potions set. All of the tiny beakers and vials were smashed. Feathers from some creature were strewn throughout the entire room, some of them stuck to the sticky substance on my back and in my hair.

I attempted to walk across the room, my feet making sick, squelching noises each time I lifted them. A loud noise startled me and I whipped around, tipping over one of the bedside tables that held an aquarium full of mice. The tiny, squeaking critters were released from their glass prison and spread out through the room. One of them ran across my feet. I jumped back and smashed the mirror atop one of the old wooden bureaus, showering even more glass upon the floor. The bureau groaned and creaked and suddenly collapsed in a pile of wood and Merlin knows what else.

I looked around at the damage I had accidentally caused and decided the twins had been punished enough. They could keep their ears and if I cleaned myself up fast enough I could keep my snooping a secret.



YOU COULD HAVE DIED!

[StarWalker]

Friar's Cap

Nuzzler
Floo Ferret


Anticipation

A cold breeze whispered through the copse of gnarled oak, gently bending the taller grasses. Swirling bits of dead leaves and dried heather, remnants of autumn’s dying glory, rose and fell along paths that that wandered across the clearing, stretching towards the fading sun. He stood motionless, not watching the sunset, but sampling and tasting the myriad of scents carried across the lake on the westerly wind.

Head held proudly high, neck muscles straining and tight with unaccustomed weight, he surveyed his domain, a blurry, surrealistic landscape of grays, faded yellows, dull metallic blues, and dim blue-greens. Two more days, he thought, looking back towards where the waxing moon would soon appear. Will they make it tonight?

Two years earlier, the three friends had set a goal, a dream rooted in desire to help yet another friend, sown by innate ability, and nurtured by youth’s unwillingness to accept defeat. Research, struggle, and practice had finally culminated in success, at least for him, yet without the help of the other two, he was uncertain as to his ability to complete their mission. Doubt sparred with the confidence the last twenty-four hours had given him.

He snorted and tossed his head; the click of antler against branch seemed unnaturally loud. Twitching at the noise, he fought the instinct to jump and turn towards the sound he knew he had made. Ears shifted spastically, instincts so ingrained in his form as to be uncontrollable.

Heightened senses marked the change, bringing with them a flood of sounds and scents so intense they nearly overwhelmed him. Pride in his ability to change at will - this was, after all, his third consecutive transfiguration – caused him to toss his head again, and snort at the sky. Certain things, he noted silently to himself, seemed to be instinctive based on form.

I’ll have to remember to ask Peter and Sirius, when they master this, he thought, finding it difficult to concentrate on what he wanted to remember. Another effect of form, I guess. I wonder if we missed something, something that would keep more of me in this form. If only we dared ask more questions!

Confused by his muddled thoughts, and inability to formulate them clearly, he relaxed, and let the tug of his body drive his actions. Surveying the rock strewn field down to the lakeshore, he stood motionless, an occasional twist of his head, as he searched for any sign of movement, the only indication he was not stone.

I could never stand this still and quiet! he exulted, amazed, as he sampled the crisp air one last time. Now run! His mind sent the command to his muscles, letting the instincts of his new form take over. Though he started at a gentle lope, by the time he reached the edge of the lake he was moving at a dead run, fighting the urge to slow and sample the surroundings. His eyes darted back and forth across his path, more and more wildly, as he entered territory not fully analyzed, desperately attempting to focus, and clear the blur.

Ignoring his racing heartbeat, he continued around the rim of the lake, feeling only the rush of air past his hurtling body, scenting the rapidly changing odors of the rotting vegetation along side the clean smell of the water itself. First uncomfortably, then with increasing difficulty, he maintained his pace.

The fight, he realized, was not between his physical resources, but his mental ones. His body was well able to continue the effort, but the instincts of the stag insinuated into his mind, blocking the goals his human reason set for his body. Swamped by the noises he was creating, his hearing tried to shut down; his ears stopped their incessant rotation. His heartbeat pulsed throughout his body, the surging of blood sensed more than heard, impinging on his eardrums with sufficient force to block the shot-like reports from the fallen branches, snapping beneath his pounding hooves.

Entering the oaks where he had started, he skidded to a sudden stop; his rear legs collapsed, dropping his rump to the frost hardened ground. Struggling back to his feet, he stood proudly, head down, not attempting to lift the unbalancing rack of antlers. Each expansion of his lungs brought in a large volume of cold air, invigorating his body.

Two more days, and then… For the first time, the full realization of what they were attempting hit him; for the first time a twinge of fear, quickly quashed, coursed through him, translated by his altered body into a command to listen, and smell; instinctive commands quickly quelled by his human side. Is Remus right? Is he only a danger to humans in his werewolf guise? What if there’s a difference between a stag, and a human with the form of a stag? What if…

James’ human mind smashed his doubts. His stag form snorted and tossed his head in pride. Two more days…


I will reveal to you a love potion, without medicine, without herbs, without any witch’s magic; if you want to be loved, then love. - Hecaton of Rhodes

[cherabela]

Veritaserum_Boy


Greasy Haired
Floo Ferret


Beyond Expectations


The usual peaceful streets of Hogsmeade were filled with the blabber of Hogwarts students, thinking that it is a free-school day while forgetting the amount of homework they had been purposefully given. The Three Broomsticks was as crowded as usual, as students went to and fro with mugs in their hands, excited for no reason at all. They often seem to act that way, like when they meet the famous Harry Potter.

Among the throng, the famous trio couldn’t have been forgotten. Miss Granger got up bossily from their table and went to the bar to get drinks for them all. There she found herself face to face with none other than Miss Lovegood, clutching a copy of the magazine The Quibbler in her hands. It is ridiculous to think that a girl, who is supposed to have enough wit to be in Ravenclaw, should read such a ludicrous magazine. Clumsy Longbottom sat beside her, beaming, perhaps thinking that Miss Granger would help him in some essay again.

“Hermione! You should really read this!” he said excitedly, waving at her, showering butterbeer all over his robes.

Miss Granger sidled next to him, looking over his shoulder as he read the article in a quivering manner, clutching his own copy of the magazine.

“Weird Sisters or Just Weird?
Are they more than they seem?

Among the most talented voices broadcasted on the Wide Wizarding Network (WWN), the musical group, The Weird Sisters is one of the most popular. Its eight members are widely known, and their songs are said to be as unique as their style. Recently the group translated their latest song, “Poison-bound” into Troll. In answer to [I]The Quibbler’s inquiries, the group’s lead singer Myron Wagtail stated that they wished that every person and creature be allowed to enjoy their music.

BUT DO THEY?

It is known that Trolls are an ignorant type of creature, with no interest in music whatsoever. So what is The Weird Sisters’ REAL purpose? All of the group’s members are excellent speakers of Troll. Could it be that their translated song but be a message to all the Trolls for a renewed allegiance with the Dark Lord? Perhaps, the members are Tro-[/I]”

“Oh what rubbish!” Miss Granger rudely interrupted, not for the first time in her life. Longbottom sat staring stupidly at her.

“What’s wrong with the article?” Miss Lovegood asked, drifting back to reality.

“Honestly, Potions class is far more interesting than that! How could The Weird Sisters be trolls? That would be like comparing Professor Snape to Lockhart! It’s all nonsense! You should all be studying the properties of the bezoar, especially you Neville,” she shot at them.

With that, she spun around and walked back to Weasley and Potter, taking a leaf out of Longbottom’s stained book and forgetting to buy drinks.

“What’s up?” Weasley asked, fuming at her forgetfulness.

“According to The Quibbler, The Weird Sisters are supposed to be trolls in disguise, just because they are fluent in the language, and that they are trying to reassemble the Dark Lord’s army of trolls,” Miss Granger said sceptically, in her know-it-all manner. Unfortunately, she always acts in her superior way, showing off in class and shadowing all the other students in her year except the brilliant students of Slytherin House, with her supposed knowledge.

“That’s why Colin was so excited this morning,” Weasley sputtered. “He and Dennis had a real fight at breakfast over who could read it first,” he said, referring to the same article which the Slytherins had all noticed and read before any Gryffindor.

“It’s all nonsense! How can you believe that?” Miss Granger returned hotly, causing more people than they already had, to notice their presence, which was nothing special at all.

“Who said I di- Harry are you all right?” Weasley asked suddenly, over-reacting.

Potter sat hunched at the table, clutching his scar tightly.

********************************************************************************
*************

The Dark Lord rose from his seat, his red-blood eyes shining, laughing menacingly. He turned to a group of his most faithful Death Eaters.

“He is alone. Go! Hogwarts won’t be Harry Potter’s safe refuge with Dumbledore for much longer.”

********************************************************************************
*************

He should have listened; he should have learned how to control it. But no. He was the famous Potter and he didn’t care what risks others put themselves in, just to keep him alive. He had never learned how to master Occlumency, and his mind was just as weak as himself. Then again, he is James Potter’s son, and no son of that man could have ever turned out as unlike his father as Potter; just as rude, just the mischief-maker, just the same Potter.



I like to sing "Double Double Boil and Trouble...." while playing with my chemistry set.

[StarWalker]

Friar's Cap

Nuzzler
Floo Ferret


Success

Success! His mind screamed exultantly. I did it James! You may have been first, you may have beaten me this time, but I’ve done it!

Quick anger surged through his body, momentarily surprising him with its depth and intensity. Confusion partially masked the feeling, which faded as rapidly as it had risen. Uncertainty, created by the swirling emotions, battered his nervous system, causing him to pause in his attempt to assess his altered circumstances.

Merlin’s beard, James! Again, the intense antagonism, directed towards his friend, caught him short. Why didn’t you warn me about this? Each critical though brought the same swift, sharp reaction, a spike of dislike that manifested itself physically. The short hairs on the back of his neck stiffened and stood straight; his lips curled back from his teeth; an involuntary sound, a growl so low, starting far back in his throat, never heard, only felt.

So, certain thoughts cause a physical reaction, he mused. Let’s see now…what if I think about James, yesterday during transfiguration. As he waited, a feeling of well being, of warmth, tugged at his mind. Well now, that wasn’t so bad. Ok then, how about Snivellus... Astonished, he was unable to complete his thought, as his legs braced stiffly against the ground and his eyes narrowed, bringing a slightly clearer view of his surroundings. He bristled, the low growl of his earlier reaction now a deep, penetrating threat. Whoa, there! That caused a stir. Let’s try Peter…

After a few minutes, he had categorized the effect thoughts of various people had on his body, ranging from pleasure at the thought of James, through the borderline loss of control when thinking of Snape. Thought of Peter invoked no strong feelings, while thought of Lily Evans confused his combination mind; thought of Remus was similar to that of James, but thought of Remus in werewolf form gave rise to feelings of brotherhood, and a desire to race.

I wonder what animal I am, he mused, as he thought of his werewolf friend, that I want to race him. Hmm…how do I see what I look like? What did James…

Sirius had been outdoors when he had made his last attempt to transform. James had warned him last night that he would have no control over his shape; he had become a stag only yesterday morning, and, trapped in the transfiguration classroom, unable to open the door, his first success ended swiftly and ignominiously. Even when he went to the small patch of oaks at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and transformed, he was unable to see what he was.

The lake! I can see what I look like in the lake! As he trotted towards the lake, he reviewed what he already knew of his appearance and abilities. Large, black, shaggy, four-legged, he thought wryly. Obviously not a stag, and clearly not feline, porcine, or ursine; nor, for that matter, piscine or avine. He could feel his lips peeling away from his teeth in a sort of smile as he mentally pictured the last two categories. I’ll bet I’m either lupine or canine.

Vision isn’t as bad as James suggested, although everything is a little blurry. He stopped, and concentrated on the bush ahead; doing so brought it into slightly better focus. Looks to be about 100 feet away, I reckon. If I count paces… His thought trailed off, as he considered his problem perplexedly. But how far is a pace? Lifting his right front paw, he tried to examine it, and quickly discovered his snout got in the way of his careful perusal.

Several minutes later, he had discovered he could see better by looking slightly off to the side. His focus was clearer there, he didn’t have to try so hard to see things distinctly, and there seemed to be more depth. But I still don’t know how big things are, or how far that bush is from here. Frustrated, he gave up, and continued towards the lake. James was right about colors. I don’t see any reds, or greens; there’re only blues, yellows, dull browns, and greys.

Finally, he reached the lakeshore, and he peered at his reflection. Huge black eyes peered back, out of a dog’s face. Dratted nose! As he turned his head, and took in the first sight of his new body, he realized why dogs cocked their heads to the side when looking intently at someone, and snickered. All this time I thought they were showing interest, and here it’s just so they can see!

He buried his snout in the water, pulled it out, and shook the water from his face vigorously. Now to find James! We’ve only got two more days to get ready! Turning, he tested the air for scent, and loped off towards the Forest.


I will reveal to you a love potion, without medicine, without herbs, without any witch’s magic; if you want to be loved, then love. - Hecaton of Rhodes

[zymurgy]

EnCRYPTion


Secretive Employee
Floo Ferret


(telling this from Ginevra’s point of view. I think that’s what the guidelines meant when they said ‘you’re Ginny Weasley’ I hope nobody minds. If that’s a problem, private Floo me. Don’t send me an owl- it’d die of exertion before it ever got to me)

A Crate of Christmas Cheer

It was during Christmas Break, and I didn’t want our holiday with the family to be ruined. After all, Charley and Bill are hardly ever home, and I didn’t want anything to go wrong about their visit. Gred’n’Forge, however, had just brought an extremely large box into their room, and it had been tapping suspiciously.

I couldn’t let them ruin Christmas. I needed to find out what was in that box and neutralize it before they tried to enchant Charlie’s blanket into a lethifold or something equally stupid. I waited until they annoyed Mum enough to be sent out to put the Melting Charms on the snow in the front walk, and then I took my chance.

Not bothering to tiptoe, I scrambled to their room as fast as I could. Gred’n’Forge’s inventions generally made so much noise on a clear day that I could have yodeled and nobody would have noticed. Reaching the door, I quickly cast “Revelatio,” to show me what charms had been placed on it. Having a Curse Breaker for an older brother has benefits.

They’d placed several booby traps on the door, as well as strong locking charms. Nothing that Dad couldn’t have broken if he’d wanted to, and Bill would’ve gone through them like a hot knife through butter, but they were mainly intended to keep my and my brother out anyway. And to prevent Charlie from planting a Skrewt in their underwear drawer.

“Finite Incantatem,” took care of the more basic spells, but I need specific Counter-Spells for the others. All told, it took me a good fifteen minutes to get into the room. By this time, I knew the twins would be back any minute, so I had to work fast.

Rolling up my sleeves, I took stock of the situation. The box in question was under several crates and barrels. Before I could even think of figureing out what was inside, I had to get it out from under all of them.

The barrel of Veela Hair was easily moved aside, but the crate of Glumbumbles was a bit more tricky, as I had to place sleeping charms on them first to prevent form getting bitten. After all, I had no wish to be levitated for the rest of the season.

Once I’d gotten to the box, I cast “Intermurumvisum,” on it, to show what was inside. To my surprise, it contained nothing but Quiditch balls- except that the quaffle was maroon, and the snitch had glasses and a lightning bolt scar. The bludgers were decorated with identical evil grins, that I had no trouble recognizing.

I smiled realizing what it was: Ron’s Christmas present. Custom Quidditch balls were rather expensive, their shop must have been going far better than they’d been telling us. Or they had more starting capital than they’d been telling us.

I replaced the other crates, and left the room after a quick check to make sure there was nothing else about that could ruin the holiday.

Leaving, I shut the door behind me, and replaced all their security spells. Excepting that I added a Slime Flinging Hex for good measure. I couldn’t wait to see their faces. They’d be too busy blaming each other for adding an extra spell without saying anything to even think that I’d been there.

Smiling to myself, I returned to my own room. The twins obviously deserved something better than a box of sugar quills from me. I still had a week to plan. After all, anybody that gives my brother Ron a maroon Quaffle deserves nothing less than a medal the size of a soup plate.


It's not impossible... just very difficult and potentially deadly.

[StarWalker]

Friar's Cap

Pup
Floo Ferret


Disallusioned

yesyesyesyesyesyes! My cry of joy was in time with my heartbeat, and thundered in my ears. thudthudthudthudthudthud! lookjameslookjameslookjameslookjames! remusremusremusremusremus! siriussiriussiriussirius! I was so excited I failed to initially notice the trip hammer repetitions, syncopating with my cardiac rhythms.

The sudden shock as I transformed for the first time, the wonderful feeling of power, of knowing, not just believing, that I was as good as the others made my eyes tear, and blurred everything around me. I am an Animagus! A delicious thought, my redemption. No longer was I just Peter Pettigrew, one of the faceless masses; now I was of the select, of those who could take on another form at will. Of the hundreds of students here, I was one of three, three who had learned, on their own, the secrets of the Animagus.

remusmakesfourremusmakesfourremusmakesfour! I thrust the thought away, refusing to let it dampen my enthusiasm, or take away from what I had done. After all, Remus had no control over his change of form; he could not affect the time of his change, nor was he master of his actions once transformed icanicanicanicanicanican! James, with all his conceit, and his quidditch ability, and his money, was no longer any better than I. So too was Sirius reduced in my eyes, with his family history that stretched back centuries, no matter that he claimed he was estranged from them. I could tell he felt he was better than all of us were; how could he not, with his bloodlines. And Remus, Remus who presented such a tragic figure to us, was actually worse off than I was. My chest swelled with pride.

Reaching up to wipe my eyes, I felt my first pinch of fear. I sat back on my haunches – haunches! What am I that I have haunches? hauncheshauncheshaunches – as the realization hit me that I did not know what I was! Fear threatened to overwhelm me, my heart speeded up even more, threatening to go out of control. thudthudthudthudthud! Faster, ever faster, and louder, blood rushed through my veins, my ears, pounding, hammering at my hearing! thudthudthuidthudthud!

For the first time since I changed, I looked around me, to see the world through my new eyes. lielielielielielie! If possible, my heart beat faster, as I acknowledged the enormity of the web of deceit James and Sirius had woven throughout the tales of their exploits as animals. “Blurry vision, unknown smells, incredible hearing, difficulty in concentrating,” James had warned me, while Sirius regaled me with tales of a much less severe nature.

“James is right, you can’t see as well, but it’s fine if you squint to focus a little; and as for concentration, I didn’t have any problems. Well, I was easily distracted, but then I’m always easily amused. And the freedom, the ability to run wherever you want makes it all worthwhile.”

I tried to squint, it felt like I was squinting, but I couldn’t see any better. In fact, I could barely see at all, everything seemed fuzzy, and colorless. Both of them had told me they couldn’t see reds or greens; James had mentioned a brilliant blue, and faded yellows; Sirius had mentioned dull browns and yellows, but said he never saw a bright blue. I seemed to see even less color, a pale yellow barely noticeable and hazy, indistinct blobs of greys and whites, interspersed with patches of reassuring darkness.

Blackness means cover, I thought, as my mind once again sent out rapid commands to my nervous system. hidehidehidehide… I opened my mouth and cursed my friends, but what I heard made me snap my mouth closed. Squeaks, chirps, and a squeal, so high pitched I wasn’t certain I even heard it, brought forth an answering volley of similar sounds. My body reacted without thought. dangerdangerdangerdanger I leaped for the most visible cover I could make out. Well, actually, I couldn’t see it; my body just kind of sensed its presence. My whiskers …

whiskerswhiskerswhiskers… Sweeping the area around my body, sensitive tips swamping my mind with a flood of images for which I had no reference. I quickly discovered that I could control the movement and whisk the area with any combination of whisker sets, but, although my new body accepted the data, and seemed content with it, my human side had no frame of reference, and so I froze, just standing there, silent, motionless. Only the incessant movement of my whiskers indicated I was still alive.

ratratratratratrat! Mortification overcame me, as I realized I had seen the actions I was performing. The rat familiars of some of my acquaintances, when they were startled, or placed in an unfamiliar situation, acted just as I was doing now! James became a stag, large and proud, Sirius a huge shaggy dog. Each separately was almost a match for Remus; together they needed no help, and they would get none from me. My Animagus form was a rat, a mere mouthful for Sirius or Remus, something for James to run over or ignore.

I could feel tears of shame welling up and starting to spill as I began the reverse transformation. Now I had to decide whether to tell them the truth, or tell them I failed again. It just wasn’t fair!


I will reveal to you a love potion, without medicine, without herbs, without any witch’s magic; if you want to be loved, then love. - Hecaton of Rhodes

[Amunet]

LoonyRavenclaw

Nargle Believer
Floo Ferret



Mistletoe Discovery

“Harry … Harry! Can I take your picture for the paper?”

“Colin, no. Go find a better picture. One that’s never been seen and more importantly, one that doesn’t include me, ” Harry replied to the annoying fifth year.

Colin Creevey walked away sadly toward the Great Hall. Inside, he saw the usual lunch crowd. Slowly walking towards the Gryffindor table Colin caught site of a vibrant pink hat over at the Ravenclaw section.

“Well, that’s quite unusual,” he mumbled to himself.

As stealthily as he could, Colin snuck over to the Ravenclaw table, across from the girl with the bright pink hat, and … popped up!

“CLICK”

“Hello Colin,” came a calm reply.

“Hello Luna, that is an amazing hat! I hope you don’t mind me taking a picture of it, it’s going on the front page.”

Luna looked at Colin puzzled, “Why would you want a picture of my hat, it's not interesting enough to put on the cover of a paper. Though my grandmother did give me this hat when we were looking for Nargles.”

“Looking for what?”

“A Nargle is a creature that infests mistletoe and everyone says that they don’t exist, but they do! If you read The Quibbler you’d know. It’s a very nice paper.”

Colin pondered upon this for a while and slowly began to nod his head, “That does seem a bit more interesting than your hat. Can you help me find some?”

“Sure.”

Luna followed Colin out of the Great Hall, still reading the Quibbler. When Colin stopped, she bumped right into him.

“Lets go down that hall and get some mistletoe!” Colin exclaimed, a bit excited that someone didn't mind following him.
Colin walked along the corridor until he found a piece of mistletoe on a large decoration. He turned to show Luna, but she was no longer behind him. Colin scanned the hall and further down another corridor to his left he saw Luna talking to a portrait.
He rushed over, excited to tell her that he got the mistletoe, “Hey Luna, look, I got it!”

“That’s nice Colin, go take the pictures now. I’m going to stay here and talk to Rolanda Yepti. She has wonderful theories on Blibbering Humdingers.”

Colin looked at the portrait Luna was referring to. The witch known as Rolanda looked fairly thin and had long brown hair. She was wearing a green dress that was clearly only worn when witches were burnt at the stake for supposed witchcraft.

“But …” he looked down at his feet figuring Blibbering Humdingers would win Luna’s interests more than Nargles. He then remembered he still had the mistletoe in his hand and became excited about Nargles all over again.

Up to the Gryffindor Common Room he ran, pausing only to say the password. He flung himself onto his bed and began to inspect the mistletoe. There were no insects or Nargles to be seen. Taking out his camera, Colin looked through the eyepiece and was about to press the shutter when he saw small red and green worm-like creatures crawling across the stems.

“Fascinating.”

Quickly he took a few pictures then ran as fast as he could to the photo developing room, completely forgetting to tell Luna all about the great discovery of Nargles.

The next morning the school paper came out. Everyone was avidly reading it, everyone except Luna. She was reading The Quibbler when someone dumped pumpkin juice in her lap. She sighed, put down her newspaper and grabbed the closest thing that would soak up the liquid that hadn't already soaked into her polka dot skirt and striped stockings.

Looking down at her lap as she wiped up the spill, she noticed that she was drying herself with the school newspaper. Smiling faintly she read the headline: ‘NARGLES EXIST! Luna Lovegood is not LOONY!’ Written by: Colin Creevey.



Order Unique jewelry at my Scroll: http://www.freewebs.com/narglesjewelry/

[StarWalker]

Friar's Cap

Nuzzler
Floo Ferret


Salvation

I screamed a long painful wail that started far back in my throat, and seemed to tear away my flesh, which stretched, flowed, and conformed to the changing bone structure of my face. As my jaw and cheekbones elongated, they ached, a bone numbing pain that augmented and intensified the agony of my teeth, as they loosened in their sockets, altered in size, shape, and position, and reattached themselves to the pointed muzzle I now possessed. Years of full moons, and the accompanying transitions had taught me to throw back my head during the final moments. Doing so reduced the stress on my neck vertebrae, as I changed from an erect, bipedal human to the quadrupedal form of the werewolf.

I am Remus Lupin, a name fraught with irony, and a source of much black amusement to me and to my few friends. Did my parents unknowingly, unluckily name me that which I was to become, or did the act of their naming me seal my destiny, and ensure that I would become one of the accursed? Questions such as this often occupied my time, particularly that time trapped in my alter form, for the true horror of the person who is a werewolf, is not that he becomes a monstrous creature of the full moon, savage and frightening to mortal man or wizard, but is rather that his human mind is divorced from the mindless beast he becomes, and cannot control. Firenze and I have spoken many times of these conundrums, though the inscrutable, destiny driven fatality of his entire race marks his opinion.

“Remus,” he would say, in his ponderous fashion, “not even the Centaurs, who have spent millennia studying the heavens for portents of the future, and knowledge of the foreordained, know to what extent a name influences the person who bears it. Nor do we ken the effect that our future has on our past, or controls our past actions. What we do know, is that all things are related, and bound, each with the other; so much has eternal Chiron told us.”

Ah, Firenze, my friend; where are you now? Even you were unwilling to walk the paths of the night with me in werewolf form. That has been left to James and Sirius; they have promised to come, and keep me company!

I could feel the stirring of my wolf’s blood at the thought of my friends, they who, with Peter, have stood by me these last thirteen school terms. I mentally retched at the picture I sensed in the mind of the werewolf, the twisted, blood enraged hatred of all that was human, torn between the desire to rend, rip, and feed; and the maddening desire to bite, and scar another for life, cursing him with the life I had led for so many years.

My normal routine, since I had started at Hogwarts, was to try to divorce my human mind from the werewolf body; to let it scheme and fester in revulsion and madness, unable to escape this house set up by Dumbledore for my periods of inhumanity; its howls, and almost human screams creating a living legend in Hogsmeade. Eventually, I knew, it would begin to tear at itself in frustration, and over the three days, it would become weaker as it spilled its own blood, and the maddening cesspool of its mind would slowly recede, leaving my human side once again recovering from the horror and depravity that marked each lunar cycle. This time, I knew I must remain engaged.

“We’ll be there tonight,” James had told me. “At least Sirius and I will be. Peter – well Peter’s a little concerned.” I could understand why, and had felt a flash of guilt when we had talked earlier today.

Am I deluding them and myself? Am I right? Will my werewolf side ignore them in Animagus form? My doubts returned, and I pushed them away. I did warn them! If I make an aggressive move, Sirius will block while the others leave. Quickly! I can maintain control long enough for that! Never mind that I had never been able to exert any influence over the other side of my personality. But tonight Peter would not be there; he would not be able to escape fast enough, if I was wrong, and the werewolf saw the human behind the stag, and hound, and rat.

I tensed; my body became still, concentrating on the incredible sense of hearing and smell I possessed, as I heard the shudder of the trapdoor below. We both heard it, my unwanted friend and I, but only I knew what it was; only I knew what it portended. I huddled back in my tiny safe haven in the mind of the beast, figuratively shivering in nervous anticipation. What will his reaction be?

We waited, he and I, with curiosity, and anxiety, each to his own. Had I thought of what we felt, I would have cried in ecstasy; instead, I listened to the two, no three, sets of approaching footsteps, the rapid scrabble of tiny claws scratching along the wooden floor, the measured clip-clop of hard hooves, and the soft pad-click of nailed paws. Even Peter! Emotion choked my thoughts, as the door slowly opened, and I saw my friends.

We sat and stared at each other – for now, it was enough.


I will reveal to you a love potion, without medicine, without herbs, without any witch’s magic; if you want to be loved, then love. - Hecaton of Rhodes

[Merman]

Ekeltricity

Ministry Worker
Floor Ferret


Naughty, Naughty


Arthur had just managed to break into the bedroom of his twin sons,
when he heard soft footsteps coming up the stairs. Quickly, he hid in
the closet, nearly knocking over a few boxes and weird machines.
The door creaked open and Ginny crept into the room. Arthur was relieved
that he had taken all the jinxes off the door before his daughter
had come. He knew that as powerful as she was she was no match for her
brothers. He soon found out that she was up to the same thing he was,
when she had started looking through the boxes.
She pried the top of the nearest crate and rummaged through it,
pulling out a teddy bear, a bowl somewhat similar to a Pensieve but
empty, and what looked like a ten year old peace of fruitcake. Setting
these items aside, she reached into the box again, only to recoil when
she was bitten.
Realizing that the last item in the crate was very much alive she
slammed the lid back down. She turned back to what she had already
retrieved. The bowl was empty, and the fruitcake wasn't very inviting,
so she picked up the teddy bear and gave it a hug.
This was the wrong thing to do because the bear squirted some purple liquid
into her hair. With a shriek, she dropped the bear and ran to the mirror.
She gave another shriek when she realized that her hair was now bright
purple and spiked. Horrified, she began to search for anything to
reverse the change. Nothing in the room seemed likely to remove nasty
changes, rather to cause more. In desperation she turned to the closet
and she made her way towards it.
Just then she heard footsteps coming up the stares. Quickly Ginny
opened the door and dashed upstairs to her room.
Fred and George seeing the door of their room open, dashed in to examine the
damage. They hastily put them everything back into the box and left
the room muttering something about "going to look for Ron".
After waiting for the twins to finish put on more hexes and listening
to them go down the stairs, Arthur slipped out of the closet to
get a look at the room for himself. First he went over to the box the
contained the teddy bear. Pulling it, Arthur studied it, finding a
label attached on the back reading.
"Washes Off"
As his wife had asked him, Arthur quickly banished all potentially
explosive material in the room, neutralized all the devious pranking
equipment, and made sure that all animals were properly fed and
cleaned up after. Not as his wife had asked him to, he took careful
notes on how each prank he destroyed had been put together.
His dread work done, he went to comfort Ginny. As he left, he added a
Slime Hurling Hex to the twins' other formidable hexes, knowing that
each would blame the other for not mentioning the new addition.
He knocked on his daughters door to here a muffled, "go away."
He pushed the door open anyway, to see her hiding her face in the pillow.
"Oh, Ginny," he said quietly, "you shouldn't use your Mother's
shampoo, you know. It has a tendency to create absolutely horrid
hairstyles. I suggest you wash it off."
"Abbawassat?" answered Ginny, looking up.
"Yes, yes," said Arthur, carefully keeping his face straight, "I know
you didn't mean to, these things happen, reaching for the wrong
bottle, you know. Had a simply dreadful day at the office, yesterday.
All those Carlfinch hexes going off- turn folks bald, you know. They
tend to work best on identical red headed twins, particularly at
breakfast."
"Which?"
"Carlfinch," repeated Arthur tapping his nose twice. "But you didn't
hear it from me. Now I must get down to help your mother with those
Snarfles that have infested the closet. She'll have my head it's not
done before breakfast."
With a wink, Arthur left her room, and went back to the kitchen to get
another cup of tea. It had been a good day.


I nearly killed myself with a toaster, and all I got was this lousy siggy.

[cherabela]

Got_Your_Konk!



Riddler
Colourful Floo Ferret


Weird or Feared?


I arrived in front of the twins’, who act like bins, room, and checked that nobody was there, because I am very sneaky and cheeky, like the freaky Mrs Norris. I threw a stinking pellet, since I am no helot, but it rebounded on me, and I was like a stinking ferret. They had put a spell to make my life hell, on the door. Stinking like the poo in the loo, I took out my wand like an ugly-looking Gond, and removed the hinges from the door. Dare they say I’m the youngest anymore?

I entered the room like a beaver, as if I had buck fever, and so I snooped and looped around the room. The lamp, which seemed rather damp, was lying on the floor, although it had never been there before. Pig, the owl in a wig, was hooting in the air, as if he were at a fair, although he should have been in Ron’s room, which resembles a tomb.

On the desk there was a box, which seemed to have got chicken pox, a hat, which sang, “Rat-tat-tat”, and a mere sphere.

I decided to try the hat; at least it would not attack like a pocket rat. I went in front of the mirror, to see how I looked. The mirror cried, “Aaargggh!!! Hide, ride, moon and pride!! Run away without delay!! You are ugly and look so smugly!” I looked in the mirror, and found I had no head. So why was I not dead? Ah! It belonged to Fred, or was it Gred instead? I removed the headless hat, which started to laugh and jest at me. I threw it out of the window, and said, “Tit for tat, you smelly sand rat!”

I took the sphere, which smelled a bit of beer, and opened it without any fear. Why should it be so queer? Then I find that I was blind, and soon was squashed like an orange rind. Yucky goo came out all blue, sticking like brand-new glue. It covered me before Peeves can say, “Wee!” and I couldn’t move, although I did not approve. I fell to the floor, in the time you count till number four. The goo would not just shoo, but it continued to brew and so it grew.

I was stuck, like an ugly looking duck. This was certainly no bad luck! The twins had thought of it, you must admit! I tried to sit, but although I was fit, all I could do was spit. And they came and laughed; poor them they are so daft. They left me there, to lie and stare! Couldn’t they at least have given me a chair? But I will not despair, because this is certainly unfair! I will get loose, but there will be no truce. I’ll get revenge, and so avenge the fix in which I got, which for them will never rot.



Name's Poltergeist. Don't-bug-me Poltergeist

[zymurgy]

WalksInDarkness

Dark Ferret


A Snake in the Heart of Gryffindor

Harry Potter sat in an empty classroom, surrounded by various books he had stolen from the Restricted Section of the library. If Dumbledore, or indeed, any of the boy’s mentors could have seen them, they would all have disapproved of his current intention: to become an Animagus.

First of all, he hadn’t had any formal training, and only knew what he did from the books he was reading. Added to that was his lack of supervision; should anything go wrong, it would be hours, perhaps even a day before he could be found and brought to the Hospital Wing or even St. Mungo’s. Most important, he had not told anybody of his endeavor, so should he become stuck in his Animagus form, nobody would know it was he.

Taking a last look at his notes, he prepared himself for the Change. Clearing his mind, he began to breath deeply. Relaxing completely, the boy allowed himself to drift into apathy. Once he was completely in a zone of nothingness, he whispered the charm to himself: Verto.

Nothing happened at first. He allowed the Incantation to become his sole thought. Verto. Still breathing, still deeply relaxed, his mind blank except for the recurring thought of the Incantation: Verto.

With every breath, in and out, the Incantation reverberated in his mind. Slowly, he became enveloped in the Charm. The Essence of the Charm slowly emanated from his Center of Magic, becoming visible as a shimmering pulse of ever-changing silver and gold, slowly weaving about his body.

With practice, he would be able to make the change instantaneously, without a visible Pulse, but for his first attempt, it was actually quite advanced. The Power imbued in the boy as a child from the Dark Lord was still present, and it was this that gave him the abilities he is so well known for.

“Verto,” he whispered again, and the Pulse of Magic surrounding him became brighter, and began to flex in syncopation with his heartbeat.

”Verto!”

Finally, it happened: Harry Potter’s body melted away, and with a flash of light his form was revealed. A copper colored snake fell twisting to the floor.

The snake slithered about on the floor, as Potter’s mind tried to cope with the change. Dark thoughts, devious thoughts, subtle dangerous thoughts invaded his mind, and he began to embrace the side of himself he had thus far not dared even acknowledge.

“Slytherin,” hissed the snake, as Potter finally understanding the fundamental truth about himself. It was not pure, nor was it light, nor was it benign. The darkness had been in Potter’s mind and in his being for so long, lying dormant, waiting for it to be called to the surface.

Plans, good plans began forming in Potter’s new reptilian skull. Yes, yes. The Wizarding world would regret their mockery of his greatness, they would. He would destroy all those who had tried to control and to use him, founding a new Epoch with himself at the head.

Potter’s brain was flooded with a sense of power, and a deep desire for the power that he did not have. Flooded with images of himself at the height of power, he reeled towards the door, intent on destroying those who had kept him in check for so long.

“Dumbledore,” he hissed, in the subtly beautiful hiss that was Parseltongue. “Him first.”

Potter slithered out of the room, and began to make his way towards the Headmaster’s office. But his plans were not to be realized.

Professor Snape was patrolling the halls when he saw the serpent advancing. A quick Revelatio spell ensured that he knew what had happened, and that he had to stop it. Potter was now at his most powerful and most vulnerable state; those who sit the highest topple easiest.

Stepping towards the snake, he stamped on its head, killing it instantaneously.

Victorious, Snape drew his wand, and incanted, “Verto.”

The light enveloped the snake, and it transformed into Potter, as he had been at the last transformation- except for the fact that he was irretrievably dead. Dead without a mark on his body.

Professor Snape smiled languidly and re-sheathed his wand. Quickly hiding his smile, he went to raise the alarm. After all, it was imperative that Dumbledore not suspect him, not his loyalty to his true Master, Lord Voldemort.



Signature: Pure Goals. Pure Hearts. Pure War.

[zymurgy]

Apothecary's~Bane




Hogwart's Greatest, a Still Life in Sepia

Collin Creevey ran hot foot down the halls, intent on his task. He needed a photograph of epic proportions for that Merlin-awful rag known as the Hogwarts newspaper, and he would stop at nothing to get it. Barreling down the halls as fast as he could go, breaking about twenty four School Rules in the process, he finally reached his destination: the History of Magic classroom.

Class was in session, but then again we all know that even the return of the Dark Lord would not make Bins depart from his abominably boring scripted lectures. The ghost didn’t even bat a transparent eyelash when the insufferable Gryffindor burst into the room.

There she was, the object of his mad dash: Hermione Jane Granger.

Now, normally, Miss. Granger would not be a fit subject for any photograph, lest she was in a pitch black cellar during a lunar eclipse and the photographer forgot to take off the lens cover.

However, on this particular day, Mr. Creevey had been sent to photograph “Hogwart’s Greatest at Leisure.” Whether his editor Ms. Brown meant he should photograph those greatest adapted to the art of leisure, or those who were the greatest at a rare moment of leisure is not clear, however Creevey chose to interpret the cryptic assignment as the latter.

Miss. Granger was asleep. In fact, the entire class was asleep, which shows that Flitwick is neglecting to teach them Wakefulness charms, as usual, in spite of the fact that this is first year material, and any gibbon could teach it.

Quickly, Mr. Creevey took not only a photograph of Ms. Granger herself, but also one of Mr. Potter, and of course, Mr. Weasley.

Smiling to himself, Creevey left the room, and dashed down to the unofficial Dark Room he had set up in an old unused classroom in the South Tower. Why Dumbledore doesn’t expand into that tower, of course, is a complete mystery. It would decrease much of the unnecessary after-hour traffic at the Astronomy Tower at any rate.

Working with a quick precision that has always been lacking in his schoolwork of any kind, Creevey began to develop his photographs. This was made easier by the fact that all his subjects were fast asleep, and therefore not capable of putting up a fuss. Also, there was no chance of that unfortunate effect of red eyes which so mimics Demonic Possesion. Not that he’d know what a demon was anyway, being Muggle-Born, and showing no interest in that sort of thing.

As soon as the photographs had been developed, he dashed to the unofficial Editorial Office. “Got them,” he gasped, dropping the photographs on Ms. Brown’s desk.

“Thanks,” she said, quickly casting a charm to splice them into the article she was writing. “You’ve saved the Hogwarts News once again!”

Unfortunately, Ms. Brown does not display the aptitude she does in charms in any of her other subjects, excepting perhaps Divination, which is simply gazing into fog.

Also most unfortunate was the fact that both students had been shamefully skipping their Care of Magical Creatures Class in order to get the article finished and printed in time. They were given a weeks detention each, and were set to reordering the shamefully chaotic card catalogue system of Madam Pince.



Even a broken watch manages to be right twice a day. Why can't you do the same and spare us all the trouble?

[zymurgy]

Tattered Robe



Registered XXXXX
Floo Ferret


Breakfast Interrupted

The morning mail arrived as usual Monday morning. Not as usual, McGonagall gave a horrified shriek upon opening her post and ran off. The usual Comfort Squad, including Madam Hooch, Madam Pince, Professor Vector and Professor Sinistra, left to supply the distraught Professor with tissues, which they routinely enforce on the distressed. (in spite of the fact that those they ‘assist’ would usually like nothing better than to be left alone.)

Dumbledore, being the one seated closet to Professor McGonnagal immediately riffled through the good woman’s post. To be sure, he meant well, but the man does have a slight problem understanding the concept of privacy. Perhaps because he gets so little himself, poor soul.

“Sweet Merlin,” exclaimed the Headmaster. “It’s the Quibbler!”

“Fancy that,” said Snape dryly. “She’s only been reading it every day at breakfast for the last twenty years.”

“No, read it, my boy,” insisted the Headmaster. “It’s quite understandable that the dear girl was so upset.”

Snape sighed inwardly at the Headmasters quite sugary appellations, and took the proffered paper. According to his habit, he read the story aloud:


Registration of Animagi Officers Report Hundred Illegals

According to sources that wished to remain anonymous, there are litterally hundreds of illegal Animagi running amok in the British countryside! These renegade Witches and Wizards are causing serious legal problems throughout the Ministry.

As they are not registered, Muggle/Wizard relations are severely compromised, since they may mix among the Muggle population at will, causing severe unrest, particularly when they ignore the laws of Anti-Muggle Security and display behavior contrary to their Animgus Form’s natural wont.

Another problem is the rampant abuse of the Animagus Form by these Enemies of Society! They run about in disguise, listening in on conversations, eavesdropping, spying! This Editor is absolutely POSITIVE that You-Know –Who keeps several Animagus spies in his employ! (For the shocking truth about what You-Know-Who was REALY up to in the Albanian forests, see Page 7)

For this reason, the Editorial Staff suggests that all, yes ALL upstanding, honest Witches and Wizards, loyal to the light, brush up on the Revelatio spell, so that we may stamp out these horrendous monsters! They are as bad as Vampires, Werewolves and Banshees! They MUST be stamped out! (for a complete list of Animagus attacks, both fatal and more so, see page 9)


“I’m afraid I don’t see the problem, Headmaster,” said Snape, returning his attention to his toast. “Nobody takes the Quibbler seriously. Besides, Minerva is registered. There’s simply nothing for her to worry about.”

Dumbledore blinked, and decided it was tactful not to mention that Minerva was mentoring several illegal Animagi in her Gryffindor Transfiguration class, including Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom.

“Yes, yes,” said Dumbledore smiling serenely. “Absolutely nothing to worry about, as you said. I’m sure the others will calm her down eventually.”

Snape sighed, and wondered why Dumbledore didn’t seem to know that Minerva was mentoring several illegal Animagi. He would have to have a word with her about keeping secrets from the headmaster.


Judge not, lest ye be judged.

[zymurgy]

Buzzin'Beetle

Surveillance Expert
Floo Ferret




A DAY IN THE LIFE OF HARRY POTTER

Harry Potter, the handsomest Hero currently, Heartthrob of thousands of teenage Witches has recently registered for his newest Ability! Adding to his incredible list of abilities, including Quiditch, Parseltongue, Dark Arts, and of course, not Dieing, the Green-Eyed Wunderkind is now also an ANIMAGUS!

This reporter will take you on a day in the life of the Fantabulous Mr. Potter, as he discovers his brand new talent!

It was a cold winter’s day as we started, and this reporter was brought into Hogwarts by none other than the Six Time Winner of Witch Weekly’s Most Intimidating Glower Award: Severus Otto Snape.

When asked what HE thought of the Messy-Haired Wizard’s newest accomplishment, Professor Snape merely said ‘no comment,’ which really DOES point out what everybody has been saying lately, namely, that Professor Snape is REALLY Harry Potters fourth cousin, though he’s tragically not permitted to show it, due to his precarious position.

Meeting the Boy-Who-Lived-and-Kept-On-Living in the Great Hall, I asked the following questions:

Rita Skeeter: How do you feel, knowing that you’re the first Animagus registered at your age for centuries?

Harry Potter: It’s not that big of a thing for me, really. I know other people have managed far better and far more important things at my age. It’s not important.

Rita Skeeter: How do you feel, when you transform?

Harry Potter: Like a cardigan turned inside out, actually.

Rita Skeeter: How about your animal form. Surprised? Concerned? Elated? Tell us how you feel.

Harry Potter: What I expected, really. A Stag, just like my da- I mean just like my Patronus.

Rita Skeeter: Ah, yes, Harry, love. Your Patronus- which is absolutely FANTASTIC magic at your age. Most Witches and Wizards can’t produce a Corporal one even after years of study. Tell us about this. How you struggled with this ability to prove your nay-sayers wrong!

Harry Potter: It wasn’t a matter of trying to prove anything. It was a matter of necessity. Either I learned to bash the Dementors, or they’d suck out my soul.

Rita Skeeter: Yes, simply HORRIFIC oversight on Headmaster Dumbledore’s part to allow those wretched things anywhere NEAR out Boy-Wonder!

Harry Potter: It wasn’t HIS fault, it was-

Out interview concluded, we went on to his Transfiguration Classroom, where his teacher Professor McMonnamonnagallga was waiting for us.

After a quick private word between the two, Harry Potter was ready to perform for the assorted Ministry Officials present.

The Bespectacled-Teen did himself proud, turning into an absobloominglutely magnificent Stag! The Ministry Officials were wowed, to put it quite plainly.

To conclude the day, the Boy Hero had to sign several documents, and received his license.

Now, this Reporter feels it necessary to point out that if Harry Potter isn’t shielded from learning such potentially dangerous and horrific Magic as the Animagus Transformation and the Patronus Charm, what are less regarded students being taught?

Albus Dumbledore must know that he cannot go on transforming our children into Monsters to Fight against the Ministry we worked SO hard to set up and protect. Albus Dumbledore has continuously shown no regard to ministry law, procedure or even the school bored. It is this reporter’s opinion that Ablus Dumbledore by removed from power immediately. This cannot go on!




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