Rated: Fiction T - English - Humor - Chapters: 75 - Words: 74,437 - Reviews: 125 - Favs: 81 - Follows: 79 - Updated: Dec 16 - Published: Jan 18, 2016 - id: 11739934
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"You are a dunderhead. Kindly find another cellar to hide." –Ebenbild, "Family Secrets"
"Well, but Severus," Regulus tried to explain, "it's not about hiding cellars in the abstract. It's just that the Dark Lord forgot to bring his Slytherin locket when he came to your house to kill your charwoman, so he had to use a different antique to store his latest soul fragment. And he happened to be standing next to your silver cabinet, so…"
"Yes, yes," said Severus. "That's all a very good story, Black, but I know you too well to believe it. You just think, as your brother might, that it would be a marvellous lark to make me hand over my grandmother's Diamond Jubilee commemorative salt-cellar and hide it in an Inferius-patrolled cave somewhere in Cornwall, and so you come to me with this cock-and-bull story about it being the Dark Lord's Horcrux. I'm sorry, Black, but I wasn't born yesterday."
Regulus opened his mouth to reply, then decided against it; he knew that mulish look of Severus's too well to think it would do any good. "Okay, fine," he muttered. "But when the Order comes calling with a handful of basilisk fangs, don't say I didn't warn you."
"Is a murder in the name of a grater good less terrifying than the others?" –Trickynixie, "No Death, No Hallowing"
"Ha-ha!" Gellert Grindelwald exulted over the prone corpse of the Muggle manufacturer. "That'll teach you to flood the market with cheap kitchen utensils, Hutzler. Come on, Albus, we've got three more stops."
"Gellert, I'm not sure about this," said Albus Dumbledore hesitantly. "Of course, I do agree with you that the mass-produced plastic cheese grater is an abomination before God and man, but doesn't this method of getting rid of it seem… I don't know, a little extreme?"
"Extremity is what industrialism has driven us to, Albus," said Gellert firmly. "Come on, be a man. Remember, it's not just the grater good we're serving: there's the colander good, and the orange-peeler good, and half a hundred others besides. We can't turn back from the enterprise, now it's begun."
But, all the same, Albus didn't sleep well that night.
"Although he still had a pension for hexing students that crossed him . . ." –VictoriousNagini, "For Art Thou Lily"
"I'm sorry to hear that you're retiring at the end of this year, Mr Potter," said the Headmaster. "You've been the finest vindictive-S.O.B.-in-residence that Hogwarts has ever seen; the students positively flee in terror when they so much as hear your footsteps."
"They should know better than to cross me, then," James grunted.
"No doubt, no doubt," said the Headmaster. "All I'm saying is, you'll be hard to replace. But, if you're sure…"
"I am," said James. "The job's been keeping me too busy lately; it's making me neglect my duties to my family. Lily and Harry need their brains hexed out now and then, too, you know."
"Of course, yes," said the Headmaster. "Well, then, of course you'll receive a full pension in consideration of services rendered – and, if I can swing it, probably some special going-away present from the school as well. An engraving, perhaps, of young Martin Snape covered in those winged leeches of yours: how does that strike you?"
James grinned darkly. "Now that I'd treasure, sir."
"Oliver went through a few more poses as Colin photographed him, then removed the pieces of armour his still wore." –0anon0, "Paparazzi"
"You see, I always keep it carefully wrapped up in this magic-impervious plate mail," he said, "lest Filch or someone should get an itch to interfere with my little sideline. It's really a lovely little bit of bootlegging machinery; you want to snap it a couple times, too, Creevey?"
"Absolutely," said Colin, and raised his camera to the ready again.
"So that's pretty much all about it," said Oliver over the popping flashbulb. "Have enough for your article yet, Lovegood?"
"Yes, I think so," said Luna, flipping her notebook shut. "'The Secret Moonshine Trade at Hogwarts': if that won't pick up Dad's circulation, I don't know what will. –All right, Colin, I think that's enough pictures of Mr Wood's still."
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