A/N - Finally, an update! Cheer! Dance! Review some more!

Disclaimer - I own nothing. JK still hasn't let me borrow the Marauders. I promise I'd take good care of them, JK! I swears on Book #5!

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I got a lot of grief over the 'ball incident' for a long time. Honestly, it wasn't that amusing, was it? I'd like to see them do better if they were little more than Squibs. And the girl was a bit of an idiot, really, but I've always felt pity for stupid people. As this next episode in my ever-amusing life proves.

I had to move to Germany to get away from all the teasing, so I built my house in a nice, quaint backwater of a Muggle village, planted a garden and kept to myself. Well, mostly.

First mistake: moving to a Muggle village. The people in the village were way smarter than I gave them credit for. Someone apparently saw me flying in on my broomstick from visiting my aunt Minnie, and by the next morning, the whole village know. Stupid people kept coming by to gawk, even though they were terrified of me, so eventually in exasperation, I built an enormously high wall around my house and garden so I could have some much deserved privacy. Besides, I'd just got an import of Mandrakes, and I really didn't want the Muggles fooling with them.

My garden was very pretty, if I do say so myself, and I loved it dearly. Caring for plants, even magical ones, generally just takes knowledge and common sense - the perfect pursuit for someone who knows diddly-squat about complex spells.

All was pleasant for about ten years, until I woke up in the middle of the night to find that my Muggle neighbour had climbed the wall and was stealing some of my rampion, a highly addictive magical plant used frugally in healing potions. I managed to stop the man just as he moved out of my rampion row and was about to uproot a similar-looking Mandrake; luckily for him or the bloke would've been dead in seconds flat.

I must admit that I gave him a pretty explosive telling-off, but the poor man thought I was threatening him. Well, maybe telling him that if he fooled about in witches' gardens he'd be dead was a mistake in interpretation. He started weeping.

"Please," he cried. "It's not for me, it's for my wife. She says she will die without it!"

I considered giving him a hefty lecture about addictive plants, but as rampion is a pain-killer and I knew his wife was pregnant, I made the decision to let him have the rampion. I told him, however, that when the child was born they'd have to give it to me. A child born with FAMPS (fetal addiction to magical plants syndrome) would need immediate magical care or they'd die from withdrawal. But the details were quite technical, so I omitted them. My second big mistake. The man just thought I was stealing his soon-to-be-born kid for revenge. Sometimes I wonder, though, if he was being obtuse on purpose. Oh well. The end result was what mattered, wasn't it?

Apparently not. When the girl was finally born, both parents pleaded and wept and refused to let her go. I finally got them with the old, "D'you want your daughter to die? That's what'll happen if you don't let her go! I'll keep you in touch! She'll be safe with me!" And I said this all in reasonably clear German. Which was pretty amazing, considering. My German was horrid. It still is.

They gave her over to me, reluctantly, and I hurried to get the girl off to St. Mungo's. It ws farther than the German hospital, but frankly, I'm not very good with languages, especially German - all those harsh letter combinations and sounds like a cat coughing up a hairball. (Well, it's true!) Besides, I'm fairly well known at St. Mungo's.

The little girl, whom I named Rapunzel (I thought it was cute) spent the first two years of her life being rehabilitated from FAMPS. Poor kid. I visited her as much as possible, bringing her toys and food from her anxious parents. She seemed happy enough.

When I was finally able to bring her home, she seemed happy in my house, too. I tried to convince her to visit her parents, and she seemed happy there as well. Rapunzel was always happy in her first years. One of the side affects of being born with FAMPS. It was a pleasure to raise such a happy child. Mostly. Sometimes, she got on my nerves. No one should be that happy all the time.

And she wasn't. She stopped being cheerful and began sulking - oh, she must have been thirteen or so. I didn't think much of it at first. I thought it was just teenage hormones. I remembered what I had been like at that age (bloody horrible, to be honest) and tried to have patience.

But then she began to throw temper tantrums on a regular basis. I didn't know what to do. The girl was randomly destroying every object in my house. I tried to give her something else to think about, teaching her knitting and gardening and anything else I could think of. No luck. Surprise. I never have any luck.

A week later she attempted to burn my house down in a fit of rage. Desperate, I wrote my friend, Morley 'Zip' Senss, a Mediwizard at St. Mungo's. He told me isolation was the best strategy.

Reluctantly, I hired a local dwarf to build a tower in the middle of the forest without an entrance or an exit except for a very high window. I flew Rapunzel up there on my broomstick, and left, feeling miserable.

Oh, I still visited the girl, naturally. I brought food and books and yarn for knitting and anything else she could possibly want. In spite of her faults, she was the only daughter I'd ever had. I even offered to talk with her parents, tell them she was fine, if slightly bored. Unfortunately, she was sulking again, and refused to have anything to do with me.

My tolerance with Muggles was about this far from snapping. But then Rapunzel grew her hair out extremely long so I no longer had to use a broomstick. I can fly - generally about as well as I Apparate. I tried Apparating up once. Not a good result - I came out halfway up the outside of the tower. My cushioning spell worked a split-second too late. I was a month healing.

I think it was during that time that Rapunzel got her hands on some Hair-Grow Potion. I don't know how she did it - maybe one of those travelling saleswizards. Anyways, climbing up her hair was so much easier than flying or Apparating up. (The German Ministry didn't understand my request to add the tower to the Floo Network. I asked Zip later, and he told me I'd mistakenly told them to bring me a purple cow. So that's why the creature was eating my lettuce!) Rapunzel's thoughtfulness did much to restore my liking for Muggles.

This situation worked out fine for about a year. Then one day, out of the blue, Rapunzel said, "You should lose some weight, you know. You're so much more difficult to haul up than the prince."

My first reaction was sheer indignation. If there's one thing I hate, it's someone poking fun at my weight.

"I - AM - NOT - FAT!" I fairly roared. I snatched up a pair of scissors and cut her hair off. "There! Isolation for a week! No Hair-Grow Potion! No visitors! You did the one thing that makes me angry, after all I've done for you!"

Then the second part of her words struck me. "A prince? Here? Is he nuts? Probably. Princes usually are." By this time Rapunzel was in tears.

I made a decision there. If a prince was coming to see my Rapunzel, and she was letting him come up, she was old enough to make her own decisions. She was, what - sixteen, seventeen? Old enough. I wasn't much older than her when I went to live on my own. I started trying to comfort her and get her to listen to me. I apologized for my spaz-out, and told her my proposition. She agreed, and we began packing her stuff up. Several hours later, she was hugging me good-bye (and crying again). I held the cutting of her hair out the window so she could climb down it with her pack. With a wrench in my soul, I watched her trot off into the evening. I might never see my girl again.

Shortly after, the prince showed up.

"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!" he called. I hesitated, then let down the cuttings. It would be easier to explain what had happened when he couldn't run off.

But the prince totally freaked out when he saw me in place of his Rapunzel. I attempted to explain, but then he drew his sword on me.

I did not think he would try to kill me. I swear I was only defending myself when I hit him in the eyes with an absolutely perfect Conjuntivitus Curse I didn't even know I could perform. He yelled and screamed and blundered around. After several tries, I managed to Stun him. He was in grave danger of falling out the window.

I don't know how I managed to get the both of us out of the tower and onto the ground. I set off to the village, hoping to find someone to care for the prince until he didn't scream at the sight of me and I could finally explain. But when I returned with help, he was gone. Well. It was his choice.

The villagers now thought I was some kind of insane torturer, so in order to preserve what part of my battered reputation was still intact, I decided to move again. To France. I knew there was a nice wizarding village there somewhere.

I just hoped knowledge of my unfortunate Muggle run-ins hadn't preceded me.

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A/N - REVIEW, or I'll get Nada to jinx you. Lol, if she can make it work.

If you have any ideas at all, what story I can twist next, please review and tell me, or e-mail me. Please. I'm getting desperate for ideas. The Idea-Well has dried up. I cannot update until I come up with a new story. PLEASE HELP ME SAVE THIS FIC!