In which an owl visits a three-headed killer dog! Will Serberus survive?
I visited Serburus today. I didn't take the Mort Man with me - strangers aren't good on poor old Serberus. I've usually been able to manage him, because as I am a bird, he is lulled by the music of my voice, but there is not enough music there for him to drop off.
I must say it was quite a mission getting there, especially without being noticed. Fortunately for me little boys and girls are unobservant pigs, who wouldn't be able to notice anything odd if kiked them in the crotch and stole their pants.
So, I got there in the end - with no intrusion from the skinny hairball, otherwise known as Mrs.N.
"Wotcher Serberus!"
"Gwenhyfar!" his voice is really low and growly - well, alright. All three of his voices are really low and growly.
"They call me Hedwig now."
If you have never seen a three headed dog laugh so hard that he is rolling on the floor, and there are tears in all nine eyes, then you are very fortunate indeed, and only have to imagine how off-putting the sight is, instead of actually experiencing it.
"I hear they call you Fluffy now." Hah - got him. He stopped laughing, and stood up.
"Sorry uh - Hedwig."
"Don't worry about it likkle-ikkle-Fluffy-kins."
We talked about life, the universe and everything. (By the way, the answer's 42)
"So, Fluffy, old bean, old pal. What are you doing in Hogwarts?"
"Guarding the trap door that leads to this doo-dah, thingymejigger - ah yes! The philoserphers stone. Or something like that."
"How dandy. So are you posted here for long?"
"Well, my script tells me that I'm supposed to stay here all year, frighten the turd out of this little chappy with a scar on his head, slash open the potion master's leg, and fall asleep at the end of the year and let everyone and their aunties come through the door."
"Wait - what? Your script?"
"Never mind." Seeing three pairs of eyes rolling all at once is an odd an grusome sight. "What are you doing here? I thought you were planning an early retirement."
"Everything went out the drain. I got bought you see, and now I'm working for this wee little midget called Harry Potter. The boy who lived." I added. Somewhat proudly.
"Fairly short, black hair, stupid glasses and a cut on his forehead?"
"That's the one."
"Had him in here a couple of weeks ago. And a few of his little mates. I must say I scared all the bile in their bodies away."
"He told me. Who else have you had in here then?"
"Well, Hagrid pops in from time to time just to check. Stupid git always comes armed with a pipe or something, and plays me to sleep. I get really bad hangovers from that."
"Had any trouble with the local bag of fleas?"
"Oh, you mean Mrs.N? Nah, she's lovely to me. Sweet little thing - lovely eyes." Did I sense puppy (pardon the pun) love? The three headed dog and the scrangy furball. Who would have guesed?
"Well, sorry to leave so abruptly Fluffster, but I really must fly. Palomides is coming back tomorrow, and I need a manicure, a perm and some decent contacts."
"Good luck with him, Wiggy."
"Good luck with Mrs.N."
And off I flew, soaring like a great eagle, only, smaller, and far less magnificent. Where can an owl find a perm around here that isn't half dilapitated?
NB. I still can't speell.