ZA: Yaaaaaaaawn! Streeeeetch! Sigh. This chapter is going to be rather funny.

Crispy: I must say I've been looking forward to this one for a while now.

ZA: We shall be introducing a new character. After all the crud with the...no, I don't want to spoil anything.

Sal: Oh! I've never been in this section of the story before! I love what you've done with the place. Is that clutter early 21st Century?

Crispy: Don't be cheeky.

Sal: But I do it so well. Oh, all right. No need to give me that look. Ahem. Zsugami Alba does not own Harry Potter. The novel series, that is. Nor me, I suppose. My character concept...my sparkling personality…

Crispy: Yes, yes, you're fabulous. Now go away.

"Speech"

'Thoughts'

Parseltongue

Excerpts from The Book

Chapter 12: Pay up, pretty boy!

Esteemed Hogwarts Founder Moons Students for Centuries!

By Sarah Picklewinks

Earlier this month, members of the Department of Mysteries, funded by an anonymous source, made their way to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to settle disputes over the accuracy of the new book Hogwarts: An Unabridged History. (For more on this book, see page 4.)

The invisibility charm on the ceiling of the Great Hall was removed to reveal the image of Hogwarts Founder Godric Gryffindor, as mentioned in Chapter 12. Ministry workers then proceeded to preserve the prominent posterior for posterity. They estimate a minimum of two weeks before they can safely re-apply the invisibility charm.

"I think it's delightful to discover new secrets of the castle. She's always surprising us," says current Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. Others are not so pleased.

"It's indecent! There are innocent children who dine in this hall three times a day. They should not be exposed to the vulgarities of foolish men. It's put me quite off my feed, I must say," rails Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall.

"I don't know," says Hogwarts Librarian Madame Pince. "They're a rather nice pair, as buttocks go, though Poppy [Hogwarts' Madame Pomfrey, matron healer] claims she's seen better." Madame Pomfrey could not be reached for comment.

When asked for his opinion, Potions Master Severus Snape said, "What else would you expect from a Gryffindor? You'd never find a Slytherin publicly exposing himself in such a manner."

The new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, a man claiming to be Salazar Slytherin himself, has a very unique opinion on the ceiling art. "Naturally, Godric's actions were ill-advised. The results did, however, inspire the creation of the beautiful ceiling we have today. All's well that ends well, I say. Slytherin House is proud to claim Denmark as their own." It should be noted that Godric Gryffindor's Denmark-shaped mole is positioned directly over the Slytherin table. For exclusive photos of the artifact in question, see pages 2, 3, and 4.


Sirius Black's face erupted in a triumphant grin. "Remus, pay up."

"What?" asked Remus, looking up from his tea and toast.

"Pay up. The buttocks are real! Real, I say!" Sirius thrust his copy of the Daily Prophet under Remus' nose, opened to pages 2 and 3. "Those most definitely weren't clouds, and you owe me ten sickles!"

Remus took the paper, gazing in horror at the panoramic photo of giant buttocks spread over two pages of newspaper. He turned to the front page and read the first paragraph of the headline article. "'Funded by an anonymous source'?" He narrowed his eyes at his gleeful friend. "Why do I have a feeling that you're behind this?"

"Ha! Behind?" snickered Sirius. "Pun intended, Moony?"

Remus rolled his eyes. "You've always been partial to rude humor, Padfoot." He sighed and reached into his pocket for his money pouch. He counted out ten sickles and laid them in Sirius' outstretched hand. "There. Now may I eat my breakfast in peace?"

"Of course. I'll leave you to enjoy a very peaceful breakfast as I take care of some unfinished business." Sirius made to leave the kitchen when Remus' voice brought him to a halt.

"Wait! Exactly what business do you have to attend to?" Remus asked in a warning tone.

"I must collect my winnings, of course," explained Sirius. "You don't think you were the only one in on the bet, do you?"

Remus frowned, "No, but surely you don't intend to track down everyone. Some of them have passed on, and most of the others believe you're an escaped murderer. You can't just go marching into the Ministry of Magic and demand Amelia Bones hand over five galleons. You'll be arrested on the spot."

Sirius slumped at that. "Hmm. I suppose you're right. I'll have to settle for sending her an owl. No, wait!" he grinned, a sign he had just come up with a very bad idea. "I'll send a howler! By parrot! That should throw them off."

"Where are you going to get a parrot?" Remus asked.

"I keep some on the roof. I've been using them to correspond with Harry. They're very agreeable birds. I've even been able to teach them simple phrases." He frowned, "Though some of them are a bit cheeky." He giggled. "Cheeky. I crack myself up."

Remus groaned and proceeded to ignore Sirius for the remainder of the morning.


Neville stared at the red envelope in trepidation. "It's not from Gran. I don't recognize the handwriting. Who could be sending me hate mail?" In the next instant, the envelope rearranged itself into an angry mouth.

"Neville Longbottom, as a direct descendant of Frank Longbottom and Alice Longbottom nee Fortescue, you are hereby called upon to settle the matter of debts incurred during their fifth year at Hogwarts! Please see the enclosed documents verifying their incorrect wagers regarding the presence of buttocks on the ceiling of the Great Hall! The total amount is 15 galleons and 5 sickles!"

The envelope then proceeded to spit out two handwritten bits of parchment detailing the aforementioned wager. The delivery bird, a lovely macaw, squawked, "Pay up, pretty boy!" Most of the occupants in the Great Hall burst into laughter which quickly died away as more parrots came flooding through the windows to land before various students and professors. The Hall was filled with a cacophony of shouted orders for prompt payment of varying amounts. The last and loudest of them all hovered before Professor McGonagall.

"Professor Minerva McGonagall! I demand restitution for unwarranted detentions that were assigned based on the erroneous assumption that the buttocks on the ceiling of the Great Hall were a figment of my depraved imagination! You will stand before the entire school and publicly apologize for doubting my keen observational skills and attempting to stifle my freedom of speech and search for the truth!"

McGonagall rolled her eyes. "Oh, what absolute rubbish," she muttered as she set fire to the scarlet missive. She caught Snape's smirk, which refused to be smothered by her most intimidating glare. Turning away from the insufferable man, she addressed the Headmaster. "It's been nearly two weeks, Albus. Do tell me they're almost finished with this nonsense."

Dumbledore smiled serenely. "Not to worry, Minerva. I've been assured they will be gone by the start of dinner, invisibility charm back in place."

"Oh, thank Merlin! I'm quite ready to put this whole mess behind us."

Sprout giggled. "Behind!" McGonagall turned her glare on the Herbology professor.

Flitwick staved off her impending tirade with a gentle clearing of his throat. "Ahem. Minerva, don't you have something to say before the students head off to class this morning?"

"I really don't think-" she began.

"It really isn't that unreasonable a request, Professor," Burbage pointed out. "It would set a good example for the children if the Deputy Headmistress is able to admit when she is wrong."

Looking around her, McGonagall saw that all eyes were on her. Very expectant eyes at that. "Oh, very well," she sighed. She rose from her chair and, casting a sonorus at her throat, she addressed the entire Great Hall. "I, Minerva McGonagall, do hereby apologize for wrongfully assigning detention to a student for speaking the truth." She ended the sonorus charm and turned to frown at her colleagues. "There. Are you quite satisfied?" The others all nodded.


Moody answered the door, wand raised. "What do you want?" he scowled.

Neither Tonks nor Kingsley were bothered by his gruff manner. "Wotcher, Mad Eye! We were in the neighborhood and thought we'd pop by for a chat and a cuppa."

Moody eyed them suspiciously. "So Black didn't send you?"

Kingsley adopted an expression of exaggerated innocence. "Why would he send us? We haven't seen Sirius in days.

Moody harrumphed. "It hasn't arrived yet, if that's what you're waiting for. I'm expecting it any moment, though." He cast a furtive glance at his parlor window.

"What hasn't arrived?" asked Tonks, genuinely curious. "Is there something you lot aren't telling me?"

Kingsley smiled. "You'll find out soon enough. Why don't you go put the kettle on while we wait."

The kettle had scarcely begun whistling when the fireplace lit up with green flames and a red envelope came shooting out of the floo to hover before Moody. "Here it comes," he muttered.

"Alastor Moody! On the morning of December 6th, 1978, you stated, 'If a pair of buttocks exists on the ceiling of the Great Hall of Hogwarts, I'll dress up as a flamingo dancer and do a jig in the Ministry atrium!' Now that it has been proven beyond doubt that those buttocks do exist, you are honor bound to fulfill your promise! I expect to receive proof of your display in no less than 72 hours!" When the last of the message had been delivered, the envelope blew a raspberry at Moody before exploding in noxious cloud of pink glitter.

"Flamingo dancer?" asked Tonks. "Does he mean flamenco dancer?"

"I'm sure that was Moody's intention," smirked Kingsley. "Unfortunately, he misspoke. I'm afraid now he's obligated to dress as a flamingo and dance before an audience of Ministry officials."

A snort of laughter escaped Tonks before she was quelled by both of Moody's eyes glaring at her. "Er...you poor man. Shall I fetch a camera then?"

"I'm not doing it," Moody growled. "I never made an official bet. He can't hold me to it."

"Now, Alastor," said Kingsley, "You know he won't leave it be until you comply."

"He can pester me until my dying day. I'm not making a spectacle of myself."

Tonks raised an eyebrow. "I should think that ship has sailed." Moody snarled at her. "I mean to say...er...what do you care what other people think? You never have before."

Kingsley looked sympathetic. "Don't worry, Alastor. I'm sure people will be so distracted by the costume that they'll fail to notice you're a terrible dancer."

"Nope," insisted Moody. "Not doing it."


Workers from all over the Ministry gathered in the atrium to stare in disbelief at the bizarre sight before them. Alastor "Mad Eye" Moody was dressed as a giant, pink flamingo and dancing across the floor to a light, happy tune. Jaws dropped as his gruff voice began to sing, "I feel pretty...oh so pretty...I feel pretty and witty and bright!"

When the song was over, the flamingo ducked into a nearby floo and departed in a burst of green flames. As the crowd dispersed, Kingsley Shacklebolt chuckled to himself. "Well done, Tonks. The singing was a nice touch."

- line break -

McGonagall eyed the ceiling with disgust as she settled in to lunch at the head table. Ministry workers were already packing up equipment and readying to replace the invisibility charm when the doors to the Great Hall burst open. A dashing figure dressed in late Tenth Century robes stormed in.

"I demand to know where Salazar Slytherin is!" the man shouted as he neared the head table.

"Is that…?"

"Could it be?"

"Why not? Professor Slytherin did it."

Dumbledore stood up and faced the unexpected visitor. "Godric Gryffindor, I presume?"

"Yes," replied the visitor. "And I have come to see Salazar Slytherin. Kindly produce him at once."

McGonagall leaned in to whisper in Dumbledore's ear. "I don't think that's wise, Albus. Everyone knows Slytherin and Gryffindor were mortal enemies."

Unfortunately, her movement caught Godric's eye. He ran a hand through his fiery red hair and smiled winningly. "Why hello, fair maiden. And what might your name be?" This question was accompanied by suggestive eyebrow wagging.

McGonagall looked affronted. "I beg your pardon!"

"No pardon necessary, dear lady," said Godric. "Your beautiful visage is enough to excuse any offense."

Snape rolled his eyes. "Oh, dear Merlin," he muttered. "Another one."

Assuming Snape was looking up at something in particular, Godric also raised his eyes and spied… "My buttocks! How I've missed you!"


ZA: Just a note: Sal taught Godric what to say if they ever got separated. His accompanying advice was to "Speak with authority, and people will automatically follow your directions without question."