The Toadfather

"I rather think the new education reforms are a sham. As usual we cats are left with nothing, not even the right to compulsorily attend school until the age of 15!" Crookshanks exclaimed, gesticulated forcefully with her furry paw. "Of course," he deliberated, "we have never protested for such rights. Nor do most cats live until 15 -"

"You lose again," interrupted Hedwig, and in a dignified way she said: "Now show us your underbelly. All your clothes are off."

"You mean my collar?" said Crookshanks.

"Yes, that," replied Hedwig.

Pigwidgeon took the opportunity to fly around in a very annoying fashion, squealing repeatedly:

"Go oooon, let's see your belly!"

Then a low croaky voice spoke from a part of the table shrouded in smoke. The voice had a suave, smooth, but dangerous sophistication, and an Italian-esque hint to it.

"We are all reasonable mammals here," the voice said. "Crookshanks ... there is no hurry, isn't that right you two?"

"Y - yes mafia don Trevor," Pigwidgeon and Hedwig responded in a stammer.

"Hey, Buckbeak," said Trevor in his perfectly reasonable-but-deadly Italiano tones, "why the long face?"

The table laughed nervously, as Buckbeak, the odd-looking horse-ma-jigger, made some sort of funny noise. "I hate my girlfriend," he finally mumbled.

"Why on Earth is that, dear fellow?" asked Crookshanks pompously.

"'Cause she doesn't exist," moaned Buckbeak. "Oh, you lose Trevor - " he added, referring to the game they were playing.

The smoke where Trevor was cleared to reveal a dark green toad in a full tuxedo wearing a jet-black bowler hat. He silenced Buckbeak with a look that told him quite clearly he wouldn't take any clothes off in this game of strip poker whether he won or lost.

"That's right, Buckbeak," said Trevor smoothly. "Rule one to my life: there are no rules. Ribbit."

"I don't know what you mean by 'ribbit'," scoffed Crookshanks, "but by denying him freedom of speech you are abusing the U.N. charter of rights ... yes, I'll be quiet," said Crookshanks solemnly, also silenced by a look from the toad.

"The U.N. can kiss my Sicilian green ass," said Trevor quietly. "No one tells me what to do. One time I was trying to win a race by hopping really fast, and this turtle laughs at me and says: 'Don't do that. Slow and steady wins the race.' I poisoned him with cyanide. Needless to say that Turtle wasn't laughing anymore."

Trevor laughed raspily and the others joined fearfully in. Trevor cleared his throat.

"I must return to my paymaster, mafia don Maranzalla."

"You - you mean Neville Longbottom?" hooted Hedwig timidly.

Trevor locked his eyes onto Hedwig coldly.

"I renamed him. Do not disrespect me. Ribbit ribbit."

With that, Trevor left the room.

"Wow," squealed Pigwidgeon finally. "He's one powerful Mafia Don."

"Especially so for a frog ... toad ... whatever," commented Buckbeak.

Pigwidgeon looked wistfully at the door which Trevor had just left through. "Ah, Neville Longbottom," he chirped, smiling. "Drop dead gorgeous."

The others laughed, along with Pigwidgeon.

"But seriously, if he was ever to be interested in any bestiality - I'd be there," Pigwidgeon added matter-of-factly.

There was a very awkward silence. Some coughs. A sniff here and there.

"I really got to go," said Buckbeak, stroking his beak uncomfortably.

"Yep, me too," said everyone else in unison.