Fish Story

Harry was fighting another sleepless night. He had headed off onto the grounds under his invisibility cloak, hoping that a good walk would tire him out. But as he walked past the lake, he heard a loud splash that decidedly did not sound like the giant squid.

Harry hid in the bushes, forgetting that he was in his invisibility cloak; to his amazement, he saw Professor Dumbledore emerging from the water, wearing a bubblehead charm -- followed at a short distance by the Merfolk's chieftaness! The headmaster tapped his wand on the bubble, muttering "Finite Incatatem," and the bubble vanished. Then he turned to the merchieftaness, screeched something horrible-sounding in Mermish, and bent over to kiss her deeply! She then screeched something back, waved goodbye, and disappeared beneath the water.

Harry was stunned. He was doing a good imitation of a fish himself, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly. As professor Dumbledore cast a drying charm on himself, he walked toward Harry -- who ducked down further -- and said, "It's okay, you can come out, Harry."

Harry was taken by surprise; once again, he had forgotten that Dumbledore seemed to be able to see through invisibility cloaks, and knew pretty much everything that happened on the Hogwarts grounds. He pulled off his cloak, stood up and said, "I'm awfully sorry, sir! I wasn't trying to spy or anything; I just couldn't sleep, and took a walk! Honestly!"

"Tut tut, dear boy," said Dumbledore kindly. "Of course you weren't. I'm well aware of your insomnia; I get a touch of it myself, so I quite understand. A lot on your mind, eh?" With that, Dumbledore transfigured two rocks into large cushy armchairs, sat down in one, and said, "Please, my boy, have a seat! Lemon drop?"

Harry was too stunned to refuse; he sat, took a lemon drop, and stared at Dumbledore a bit intensely as he began to suck on the sweet.

"Now, Harry, you're not a little child any more; I'm sure you're not a stranger to the notion of -- erm -- adult friendships. Needless to say, those with other species are perhaps -- rarer; but the merchieftaness and myself are very old, dear friends; indeed, that is how I come by quite so fluent a dialect of Mermish! It seems that -- er -- intimate friendships are often the best way to learn a language!" Dumbledore chuckled softly, as though appreciating a rather obscure joke.

"I -- I understand, Headmaster; by now, nothing in the wizarding world would surprise me for too long, really," Harry smiled nervously. "It's just that -- well, I can't imagine how you could -- you know -- do it! As different as the merpeople are, I mean."

"Ah!" said Dumbledore, delightedly. "The best way to answer you, my boy, is with a story.

"One evening, a man walked into a pub. Beautifully dressed in the finest clothes, a powerful physique, large rings on his fingers -- and a head the size of an orange! He put a hundred-pound note on the counter, and said, 'Bartender, I'll have --'

"But the bartender snarled, and said, 'You'll have nothing, mate, unless you can explain your bizarre appearance!'

"The man pointed at his infinitesimal head, smiled sadly, and said, 'Ah yes, this! Well, if I must, then I shall tell you my story.

"'I was but a humble fisherman. One night, I was casting out my nets, and when I hauled them in, lo and behold, caught in one of them was a real live mermaid! She cried, "Let me go, I pray you, and I shall grant you three wishes!"

"'So I asked her for great wealth. And before my eyes, the deck of my little fishing boat was piled high with gold and jewels! Then I asked her for a strong and powerful physique, and in a flash, I had the magnificent body you see before you.

"'Well, by this point, I had pretty much everything I had dreamed for. But I had been at sea for days, and I had got a bit lonely. So I looked down at the mermaid. She was kind of gross and fishy down below; but up top she was pretty nice! So I said to her: "How about a little head?"'"

Harry digested this for a few seconds; then he fell right off the chair, laughing. Dumbledore twitched his mustache, hiding a grin; and when Harry had finally recovered, he said, "Thank you, Headmaster, for trusting me with that -- joke! I have a much shorter one for you: A termite walks into a bar, and says, 'Is the bar tender in here?'"

Dumbledore chuckled, "Bar-tender! Very good show, what? Well, Harry, I trust your discretion, as a gentleman."

"Oh, of course, sir!" Harry said, as they both rose, and the armchairs turned back to rocks.

As they headed back toward the castle, Dumbledore smiled dreamily, and said, "A horse walks into a bar. The bartender says, 'Why the long face?'"

Harry expected there to be more. Then he cocked his head, thought it through, and burst out into a soft splutter, as the two stepped through the great doors.

-End-