The moon had stood still for five minutes now. Or had it? It hadn't, of course. The moon is in elliptical orbit around this blue sphere we call Earth; which in turn is in elliptical orbit around what we call The Sun, which the Wizards call Solis Majoris. This is simple Auror training.
Yes, if JKR can make up random Latin, so too can I. For I am Mad-Eye Moody; greatest Auror that has ever lived. Barring of course the great Auror and celebrated musician Baron Von Duck. He was, of course, not a real duck He may not have been a real baron, or of any line of nobility at all…but that was unimportant. He has been, and will continue to be (for the foreseeable future at least) a figment of my (omni?)potent imagination. We all need something to aspire to, and I...well, anything other than aspiring to Baron Von Duck would render this paragraph entirely redundant. So aspire I shall!
Moving swiftly back to the topic at hand; currently it is 2:30am. 0230. A half past two. Two-thirty. Thirty minutes past the hour; the time and hour being two and thirty minutes. I have been asked by the Headmaster to investigate student sightings of two rutting wildebeest near the eaves of the Forbidden Forest. Spooky music chases pictures of naked female centaurs through my mind. I hitch my belt up in a mannerism I have acquired from watching too much John Wayne. Not the cowboy actor. This guy I stalk sometimes. He has nice pants.
Anyway; I hear the clash of antlers on antlers, and the powerful thrusts of paws in turned earth. There they are, in the clearing, glossy in the standy-still moonlight. Their eyes are glowing red. Red with evil. Evil things usually have red eyes. This also is simple Auror training. It’s how we get Arab Wizards into Gauntazkaban Bay. We take pictures of them. The red-eye is proof enough for our P.A.T.R.O.N.I.S.I.N.G. Act.
Oh no! The wildebeest have spotted me! I should not have worn that neon cock ring! I take the glass ring from my finger, and curse it’s fowl shape! “Damned you Colonel Sanders! Damned you to the selfsame Hell from whence these creatures of evil are come!” I’m already out of breath, as I grunt and stumble. A wildebeest rams my rear at full pelt and I am lifted onto my feet. With virtually no further grunting, I run towards the moon-light castle. The grass is more slippery than I remember...what can this mean? It is very possible that I have a bad memory, and equally as implausible that I have a bad memory...wait...did I just say...
"THWACK", I'm knocked onto my posterior.
"THUMPF!" I look skywards; the stars twinkle menacingly.
"Come down here and fight like proper celestial beings!" I bellow at the cosmos.
”CRACK!” An ugly gash is torn along my eyebrow. I expect it will look quite fetching when healed.
The blow brings me to my senses, as I now realise I have inadvertently run toward the Whomping Willow. Apparently I have mentally assimilated the terrible grounds-landmarks-swapping-and-shifting-all-over-the-place-god-isn’t-Cuaron-an-idiot problem from the films. Yeah. That’s the ticket.
Now grabbing a piece of stick, or large twig, or broken tree-root, whatever, I pirouette, parry and then thrust my would-be-sword at the Willow.
“HAVE AT YOU, FIEND!” I cry aloud before the appropriate-speech-node of my brain’s right hemisphere kicks in. The branches of the Willow creak and groan as it twists to harm me; it seems almost to be calling for my blood.
“I’m going to hit you for being so mean!” I retort; rather feebly I admit, but I was under considerable pressure. The Willow, brandishing a branch the size of a small…tree, nearly beheads me: a fool I am for trying to verbally duel with semi- sentient flora. I try to fight fairly as best I can, but I am forced to fumble with my free hand for my wand.
”SUPERFANTASTICWONDERSPELL………IUS!!!!” My hoarse crow-call echoes around the grounds as the tree explodes into a million bottles of Guinness draught. A sight for sore eye, that is. A just reward is given for my underhand use of human-magic. Unlucky Willow you useless pot-plant. I glance over my shoulder just to make sure Willow isn’t following me…then I continue to run to the castle to inform Dumbledore that we actually have two Flying Evil Super Killer Carnivorous Wildebeest from Hell in the grounds.
Up consecutive flights of stairs I run, rather ungainly in my strides because of my wooden leg. Tom Green would probably make a joke out of my disability. I’d probably make a disability out of Tom Green, the JOKE. God I hate Tom Green. As my mental ranting subsides, I find myself outside Dumbledore’s sleeping quarters. I realise I’ve ran all this way and not noticed. I’m quite insane. Hurrah.
I grasp for the handle, but a barely-heard conversation and the rustle of bedclothes stays my hand. I listen intently. It’s the voice of the deputy headmistress…I think.
"Oh Albus!", the voice mewls passionately.
"Who is your Headmaster, Minerva?" cooed a familiar voice in return. I am rooted to the spot in a manner somewhat similar to the way a tree is rooted to the ground, only without any physical roots. Ahem. Well, there is one… Grasping my root firmly, I try to summon the will to manoeuvre it’s substantial girth and length out of the way, so it will not obstruct my entry to the room. It feels warm in my gnarled hand, and I enjoy its powerful weight immensely. I run my hand fondly along the shaft, as if teasing it. Realising I have been playing with my root for nigh-on 2 minutes, I knock it twice on the door as a sign that I have overheard. The feeling of the hard wood on wood makes me shiver slightly. My root has become moist in my hand. I can see the bulbous tip glistening slightly in the moonlight .I let it lower slightly, it does not wilt, and then release it from my grasp entirely. As I let fall the piece of tree-root I had used to fend off the Willow, I enter the study. To my horror, I realise I have an erection.
Throwing my cloak around me in a fashion truly befitting a legendary Auror such as myself spares me the embarrassment of the Deputy and Headmaster ogling my nether regions.
”Headmaster, I’m so sorry to interrupt!” I bark gruffly. Of course he will know that I am not in the least bit sorry. Dumbledore looked aggrieved as he fumbled with the single pull-down blind on the window. Why is he so bothered, old Dumbledore? It’s then very obvious to me…like a large stool, on a bar floor. Get it? Stool? Anyway; it becomes so glaringly obvious that I have to restrain myself from shouting in glee! He can’t even get it up! Seizing my chance, I give it a gentle tug. The blind, of course, rolls smoothly skyward, as mingled moon and starlight streams fretfully into the room.
“Ahem, thank you Alastor” he mumbles in muted thanks at my valiant tussle with his window-blocking aggressor. “Was there anything in particular?”
“Well, yes Sir, begging your pardon Sir…”
”Well, out with it…and do stop talking like a hobbit, Alastor”
”Well, sir, you see, I need a witty dialogue sequence”
”Whatever for?” sounds Dumbledore incredulously.
”For my story” I plead. It is quite degrading.
“No, no, I’m afraid that is quite out of the question, Alastor. Goodnight”
His tone had a scathing finality to it which leaves me shocked (and scathed) when he continues to talk.
“I have nothing further to add” he adds, with an infuriatingly benign twinkle in his eye. I hate his eye. I’d like to give it a right good kicking.
“I’ll just forget about reporting the possibly LIFE THREATENING situation out in the grounds then, shall I?” I mouth through the keyhole as Dumbledore shunts me from the room and locks the door.
”Err, yeah…WOTEVA” giggles Dumbledore’s geriatric seductress. A wave of molten disgust at my treatment gushes through my circulatory system.
Then, almost as if the non-existent author of my life’s adventures was board with this particular escapade, all thought of following any logical action regarding the safety of the children flees from my mind as I decide to have some tea in my office.
FIN.
oh - what a laugh! Thanks for posting this J! You pulled it off very well! :D
I esp liked this bit:
Evil things usually have red eyes. This also is simple Auror training. It’s how we get Arab Wizards into Gauntazkaban Bay. We take pictures of them. The red-eye is proof enough for our P.A.T.R.O.N.I.S.I.N.G. Act.
So close to the truth probably - that you'll get our site closed down for revealing State Secrets! :)
Hahahahaha, that was soooo funny! I don't like to use netspeak (or whatever the hell it's called), but I was literally ROTFLMAO! There were so many great parts, I don't feel like taking the time to quote them (they know which ones they are anyway).
Really, I loved it, it was great! Delightfully tacky, yet unrefined :D And you didn't even use your favorite (and Ophie's least favorite) word! I'll be waiting for more chapters J, get on it!!!
Nice work, Jaymund. What would freud say if he were still alive? Probably something like "i'm very, very old".
I am berry berry old and i vant to be havink ze sex vis everyzink.
And i like wine.
God, J, your funny.
Correction: Freud would say: I'm berry berry old and I tink vomen envy my... but zat's because I'm psychotic.
