Warnings: silly
Disclaimer: Just borrowing.
Bill Weasley and Chicken of Doom
Late one evening, Bill Weasley was clearing the dishes from the supper table. His wife Ava, who was about nine months along with their second child and ready to pop any day now, had excused herself in a hurry and dashed off to the loo.
He dumped the remains of her roast chicken onto a plate along with their son's, and headed towards the dustbin. Something stopped him in his tracks.
"What is this?" he asked no one, since his son had followed eagerly after his mum, pestering her to see "if the baby was coming out!" Gingerly, Bill picked a bone off of his wife's plate and examined it. There was still a scrap of meat left, but that wasn't what was so fascinating.
All up and down the surface were small indentations, the likes of which he had never seen before. Maybe it was a forgotten language, or the map to buried treasure! All he knew was that it was extraordinary.
A look of amazement spread across his face, and as he triumphantly held the grizzled bone up to the light, Bill declared with great conviction,
"This belongs in a museum!"
Ava returned from the bathroom then, and upon seeing her husband holding this tiny, calcified specimen up as thought it were the Ark of the Covenant, laughed so hard that the baby did come out.
A/N: Someone over at the hp-lexicon said that they thought being a Curse-Breaker was a lot like being Indiana Jones.
I know the title is whack. It was either that or "Bill Weasley and the Raiders of the Lost Chicken" which would probably get me in trouble with PETA.
And, no, I can't write stories without an OC, in case you were wondering.
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