It was an evening like every other; people were leaving through floo after their visit
It was an evening like every other; people were leaving through floo after their visit. One of them stepped up to the hearth and threw some floo powder into the fire, but sneezed at the same time and managed to fall headfirst into the fire before disappearing.
"What are the chances of that happening?" asked someone.
"No idea, but low," someone answered.
"Where do you end up if you …" continued the first.
"This is bad," said a third.
"Very."
"Quite."
"Right."
Somewhere a voice mumbled, "Oh bugger."
I have a cold, and the idea struck me. I own nothing. And, no, there won't be anything more to this one.