Title: The Unspeakable Mysteries of the Lemon Drop
Summery: Where were the Unspeakables on that fateful night that Harry Potter and friends journeyed to the Ministry of Magic? What does the locked room in the Department of Mysteries contain? WHAT DO DUMBLEDOR'S LEMON DROPS MEAN!?
Rating: K+
Warning: This OneShot will make you stupider with each sentence. Proceed with caution…
Disclaimer: I hereby disavow all connection to the Harry Potter Series. This message will self destruct in five seconds…
Once more the wall spun and became still again. Harry approached a door at random and pushed. It did not move.
"What's wrong?" said Hermione.
"It's…locked…" said Harry, throwing his weight at the door, but it did not budge.
"This is it, then, isn't it?" said Ron excitedly, joining Harry in the attempt to force the door open. "Bound to be!"
"Get out of the way!" said Hermione sharply. She pointed her wand at the place where a lock would have been on an ordinary door and said, "Alohomora!"
Nothing happened.
"Sirius's knife!" said Harry, and he pulled it out from inside his robes and slid it into the crack between the door and the wall. The others all watched eagerly as he ran it from top to bottom, withdrew it, and then flung his shoulder again at the door. It remained as firmly shut as ever. What was more, when Harry looked down at the knife, he saw that the blade had melted.
"Right, we're leaving that room," said Hermione decisively.
"But what if that's the one?" said Ron, staring at it with a mixture of apprehension and longing.
"It can't be, Harry could get through all the doors in his dream," said Hermione, marking the door with another fiery cross as Harry replaced the now-useless handle of Sirius's knife into his pocket.
"You know what could be in there?" said Luna eagerly, as the wall started to spin yet again.
"Something blibbering, no doubt," said Hermione under her breath, and Neville gave a nervous little laugh.
—Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, pages 775-776, American Version.
Ah, if only they knew. For at this moment, not feet away from the other side of the door threw which Harry and Co. had just tried to force entry, a topic of the utmost serious of sorts was commencing…
"Clearly the sugary substances express how sweet living life can be!" Unspeakable number 56 was saying, gesticulating wildly. "Or perhaps how joyful the Light is when it had triumphed over the Dark!" Scribes scratched franticly as the crowds ponder this development.
"Surely the term 'CANDIES' must be an acronym of something much greater!" excitable number 42, who was posing as a homeless person, called out. "Perhaps Classified Agency of Notoriously Dangerous Important Edible Substances?"
The crowd fell silent, contemplating just how psychologically deep Albus Dumbledore's web of unhealthy food stuffs was. After meditating on this matter for many days and many nights (though it was only a few moments really), a woman stood to put her two cents in.
"We must recall that Albus Dumbledore offers these alleged confections to all that enter his domain." the lady mused. "Perhaps he is, indeed, referring to how sweet a second chance is."
"And he offers these sugar coated items to represent the offering of a second chance to all!" another women cried out, following the line of thinking. The crowd murmured their agreement, and again commented on the old coot's cleverness.
"He often offers an object called a 'lemon drop'." a man with gray hair observed, motioning for his presentation to be brought in. The experiment was floated in by a team of highly trained Unspeakable. "Notice how this 'hard candy' seemed to dissolve when saliva is added!" the man pointed out as he added exactly 20 mL of human saliva to a lemon drop strait from the Headmaster's office. The crowd gasped as the sugary treat slowly began to melt.
"Surely Dumbledore is implying that existence melts away within the human race!" someone shrieked. The crowd gasped again and looked at the gooey lemon drop with a new respect.
"I think that Dumbles is just a weirdo with an obsession for candy!" a little boy offered his opinion. The crowd gaped at the child's immaturity.
"Number 89, GET THAT KID OUT OF HERE!" the Head of Department yelled, eyes popping. "That child is obviously oblivious to the subtleties that comprise Albus Dumbledore's mind!"
"Come on, Simon." 89 mumbled to his still-grinning son. "You just don't understand the implications of the world."
"What are those crazies doing, stealing Mr. Dumbles' lemon drops?" 'Simon' asked his father curiously as they made their way to the doors.
"It'll all become clear when you're older…"
As the pair's voices' and footsteps faded, the Council of Unspeakable regained order.
The Head of Department massaged his temples, muttering, "I hate bring-your-child-to-work-day," before focusing once more on the center of the room.
A man in the front row poked the icky-drop cautiously, as if expecting the yellow stuff to eat him.
"This is beyond mortal comprehension!" the Head Unspeakable continued louder now, eyeing the icky sweet with fear. "We must act on this!"
"What shall we do?" a brunette beside him gasped.
"There is no hiding from the evidence!" a blonde man reasoned fearfully, pointing at the puddle of yuck which was now attracting flies.
"We shall do what all governments do when discovering something that will change the world!" the second-in-command declared. The room waited with bated breath for the verdict to be announced. "We must..." the guy paused for dramatic affect.
"Deny it vehemently, and lock it away for all of time!"
There was a collective sigh of relief from his co-workers as they agreed with this suggestion. As one, they all rose to their feet and exited the Room of Mysteries into the circular room that connected the entire Department to one another. The Head Unspeakable locked the door behind him with a flourish and added the password to close it.
"Under the rug!" he cried. After the door closed with that funny squishing sound that he absolutely loved, the Head Unspeakable turned around with the rest of the team, ready to exit gloriously into the main part of the Ministry in all their mysterious glory, when he suddenly caught sight of a very much demolished chamber.
Silence. Then-
"89! I'll heave your head for this!" Number 1 howled, stamping his feet immaturely. "77 and 45! CLEAN IT UP!"
"I'm not cleaning that up!" said numbers whined.
"Do it NOW, DAMMNIT!" the Head shrieked, eyes popping.
"Why don't you do it then!?" number 77 bleated plaintively.
"BECAUSE I'M THE BOSS!" was the screeched reply. "It says so on my underwear!"
"How do we know what you say is true?" one guy asked suspiciously.
"You must present evidence," random guy number 34 agreed.
"I'm not showing you my underwear!"
"Then I'm not cleaning this up!" number 77 squealed indignantly. The other Unspeakables nodded solemnly in agreement.
That seemed fair.
"FINE!" the Head Unspeakable shouted, eager to not have to clean, and turning around to speak the password. "Then we shall have a meeting to decide exactly who shall clean the Circle Room!"
There was general assent as the Unspeakables filed once more into the Room of Mysteries.
Just as the last Unspeakable shut the door, another across the hall sprung open with force, and a mad-looking woman rushed threw the room, shortly thereafter followed by a murderous-looking boy.
But that was of no importance to the oblivious Unspeakables of the British Ministry of Magic. There we far more important things to be discussed on this night…
What can I say… the plot bunny ate my homework… Review?
—Skyfly64