It was late evening at Hogwarts. The Headmaster of the mentioned academy, Albus Dumbledore, was sitting in his office in front of his huge, ornate dressing table and humming happily to himself as he brushed his long, silvery and soft hair. He did that every night before taking his beauty sleep. Ever wondered why he had such enviable locks that they could turn even Mr. Malfoy to shame? Ha! Now you know.
“I love you,” said Dumbledore as he looked into his hair’s reflection in the mirror. “And I love you too,” he said as he lovingly started brushing his shiny, grey beard.
“And we love you!” exclaimed each hair on his head and beard in tiny, sweet voices, as the Headmaster smiled proudly.
Yes, Albus Dumbledore’s hair talked to him. Not only that but it was also the very source of the Headmaster’s exceptional intellect. Indeed, it was his brain, the source of all clever ideas and brilliant theories which made the world stare at him in awe. That’s why Dumbledore had always politely turned down suggestions from his colleagues to get haircuts or to shave his beard off and liked to keep it safe and well managed.
Just then he heard a knock on his door. Hastily stopping singing a love song for his hair (“You’re my heart, you’re my soul; I keep you shining everywhere I go!”) Dumbledore got up from his chair and opened the door.
As Dumbledore had expected, it was Harry.
“Good evening, Harry. Do come in,” said Dumbledore, smiling a little because he was excited for what lay ahead. He walked up to his chair at the table, indicating Harry to sit down and when both of them were seated, ready to start asking Harry questions about the Marauder’s Map’s functioning.
“Here’s the map you asked for, Professor,” said Harry, nervous to be parting with his dear map. He took the artefact out of his pocket and handed it over to the Headmaster, who noticed his hesitance and smiled.
“Thank you for sharing such a treasure of yours with me, Harry. And forgive me for taking such an enormous amount of interest in something that does not belong to me and is obviously very precious to you. I will guarantee you that no harm shall befall your Map; I will protect it as if it as dear to my as my own life,” said Dumbledore, smiling at Harry, who beamed in return, obviously under the illusion that Dumbledore valued his life more than anything. Which as we all know was false; Dumbledore was a selfless man and selfless men do not value their lives much.
“I’m sure you will, sir,” returned Harry.
“Yes, Harry, as I just said, I will. There is no need to repeat things, is there, now?” cried Dumbledore. The boy made him nervous. He had promised he would take care of the Map, what else was he required to do? Frankly, taking care of things that did not belong to him was something Dumbledore did not quite like; he was not as skilful in this field as he was in others, something he will show us later in the story.
“So, how does this map function?” inquired Dumbledore, regaining his composure and ignoring Harry’s shocked expression.
“Uh…you have to say “Revlon” while touching the Map’s surface with your wand. The Marauders will ask you to spell your full name, after which you will be advised on various fields of your life, which are academics, sports, social life and hobbies.”
“Yes…they are the ones who made this map. By ‘they’ I mean my father and his friends Sirius, Lupin and Pettigrew,” said Harry. He also told Dumbledore their nicknames so that he would be able to know who was giving him what advice.
“I see! Thank you very much, Harry. Have some peppermint toads before you go, but mind you, not too many. They are my favourites and I shall be devastated not to have any left,” joked Dumbledore.
Harry was a little relieved to see the Headmaster back to his usual self. He took three peppermint toads (for he never forgot to care about Ron and Hermione) and went away, leaving the Dumbledore all alone in his office.
“Hmm…” Dumbledore said to himself, examining the Marauder’s Map in his hands as he sat down on his comfortable bed. There was a maroon coloured bed sheet on it, with golden snitches as the print. It was Dumbledore’s favourite. He used to be the Seeker for the Quidditch team of his house during his years as a student of Hogwarts, and that’s why he loved everything Quidditch!
“Hmm…” said Dumbledore again, this time turning the Map over, examining it from all angles. Suddenly he grabbed for his wand and touching its point to the Map’s surface, muttered “Revlon!”
Inked word appeared on the Map.
Good evening and welcome! You have entered the realm of this map in which we give you advice on your personality. We are the Marauders, and this time we are going to give you advice specific to the fields we deal with. With that said, we are proud to present to you … ourselves.
I am Moony, the academic specialist who will give you my opinion on your current grades, as well as advice to improve them; if the need may arise.
Dumbledore smiled. His grades. They had been wonderful when he was in school!
I am Padfoot, your relationship consultant. I will review your current relationship status with other people, your place in society, rank among friends and other such important things, and hence advise you to strive for a better social life.
Anyone who saw Dumbledore at this point would be in for a shock. Dumbledore was definitely capable of blushing, and he was doing it now. Obviously thinking about his “special one”…
I am Prongs, your sports guide. Confused about which sport you should choose? Don't think you are comfortable with the current sport you are into? I am the person you should turn to.
After reading what he just had, Dumbledore was lost for a moment in thoughts. James Potter, so talented, such a good person… Dumbledore sighed sadly as turned his attention back to the map.
I am Wormtail and I will tell you which kind of hobbies to pursue. What kind of groups you should turn to. What kind of people to make friends with.
Dumbledore beamed. So the little boy had finally made his place among the other Marauders? Good for him!
Okay! So if you are ready, we shall proceed. Kindly spell your name, mister.
“A-L-B-U-S D-U-M-B-L-E-D-O-R-E” said Dumbledore, his ice- blue eyes glinting as he did so.
As Dumbledore watched, the map yielded an immediate result.
Blimey, sir, is that really you? Moony would like to express the heartfelt joy and greetings for a great evening that he feels for our unexpected but most welcome guest! It’s such an honour to be at your service, sir, such an honour. If truth be told, I feel sheepish giving advice to the most intelligent wizard of all times! Your grades in school were outstanding in all subjects except for Divination. I wonder why you opted for the subject…felt it’d be good to get as many N.E.W.T.S as possible, eh, sir? Well, not a bad thought- but as you found out later, it really wasn’t much of a subject choice for you. Not everyone possesses the ‘inner eye’! Nothing to be ashamed of, sir. Other than that- Fifteen N.E.W.T.S! I wonder how you managed that, sir. You set a perfect example to everybody in the world- not only academically but also the later achievements in your life and the work you did for the interests of the wizarding world. Fifteen whole N.E.W.T.S!!! The undirected and spoilt youth of today should learn something from you! Fifteen N.E.W.TS!!!—Merlin’s beard, sir…
Moony’s words suddenly stopped there and Padfoot’s appeared.
Gah, Moony! Get a grip on yourself! How many times, just how many times do we have to tell you not to go mad when you meet brilliant people? *rolls eyes*
Dumbledore laughed and shook his head. So Remus was still affectionate towards studies! He read eagerly as Moony’s words re-appeared.
Okay, okay…though you cannot disagree that getting fifteen N.E.W.T.S is something, Padfoot. I don’t expect you to understand it really because you were always more interested in utterly unimportant stuff.
Getting back to you, sir- right now in life, I’d advise you to take up something that you’ve always wanted to study about, but never really got around to do it. This is the right time for you to fulfil your subdued desires that were ignored before hand because of the many responsibilities that you carried upon your shoulders. Farewell, sir, and happy studying!
Dumbledore was really pleased with Lupin’s idea. He considered it for a few minutes and came to the conclusion that since he did have quite some time on his hands these days, it was possible for him to start up a new research project. Knitting had always been a delight, but he was tired of it. Besides, an amused Dumbledore had discovered that it was a harmful hobby to pursue at Hogwarts. For he soon found out that the number of elves working at the Castle had reasonably dwindled since he had started knitting hats and socks and such, which he found missing from his office pretty often. Apparently Dobby had done a good job influencing the other elves with the idea of being free.
“We know what you could start a research on!” some hairs on his beard exclaimed suddenly. Dumbledore jumped.
“Oh, you scared me!” he said, one placed hand on his thudding heart. “What is it you think I could pursue now?”
“We are sorry,” the hairs said, their tiny voices expressing just how sorry they really were. “But we had this great idea about what you could study right now- you have wanted to do it since childhood!”
Dumbledore listened amidst a quickening of interest.
“Has not Albus always wanted to know how exactly candies are made?”
Dumbledore gave a whoop of joy. “Yes!”
It had been his passion to know everything about sweets. Especially the cotton candy that Muggles make which, besides tasting great, was almost magical the way it disappeared in his mouth! Magic never failed to amuse the one hundred and fifty year old wizard. He knew he could travel to different shops, even countries, to know about different sweets and the procedures to make them. Smiling gratefully, he patted his beard. “Thank you for your help, my dear ones. You have, once again, by your deep insight and delightful sense of encouragement, provided me with a lovely idea!”
Grinning like a child, he turned his attention back to the map.
It was Sirius Black’s turn to speak to him via the Map now. Soon enough, his words appeared.
A most warm welcome to you, my dear old man! I am Padfoot, here to advise you on your love life. The powers that we have incorporated in this map allow me to know who your crush is!
Dumbledore’s grin vanished with the speed of two thousand six hundred forty seven kilometres per second. Oh dear… he thought I’d forgotten about this power! I can’t let them know who my crush is! Sweating slightly, he turned his eyes back to the map. Padfoot’s words appeared again.
Oh, and who do I see over here as your crush?... Dear me, it can’t be…it can’t be…Tom Riddle?
No more words appeared after that for quite a while. Dumbledore hung his head in shame. Yes, he did have a crush on Lord Voldemort. Why? He didn’t know, but he was pretty well ashamed of himself. The Map stayed blank for a few minutes. Dumbledore looked up when he saw the blank space being filled up by words.
That’s…that’s…cute, sir. He is …a… good choice, for you…isn’t he? I mean, it’s not like you chose Wormtail here…*shivers*
Yes, he is a good choice. I can see why you fell for him- opposites attract! He’s a bad man, and you’re good. Good plus bad equals love.
Dumbledore smiled at how hard Sirius was trying to make sense out of this confusing attraction.
Well, I’d be glad to give you advice on how to get closer to Voldy, but that relationship really won’t go well with your image- and neither his. I am fully aware of your humiliation at being attracted to the noseless, hairless, snake-like, evil prat- but feel not embarrassed, you poor old helpless bloke; it’s not your fault. It’s common knowledge how so many people find “bad boys” appealing… and after all, love is like weeds… they grow in the most unwanted…erm, sorry, I meant…unexpected places!
Dumbledore nodded sadly.
You are commonsensical, sir so I’m sure you realize this relationship can never be achievable- Lord Voldemort knows not what Love is. But just because I am here to advise you on it and because I feel like doing it- I’ll tell you how you can occupy a special place Lord Voldemort’s heart.
Dumbledore’s attention multiplied instantly. He had been trying for years to tell Voldemort his feelings- but the man always misunderstood it! Why, let’s take for example the time Dumbledore told Voldemort he couldn’t get a teaching job at Hogwarts. Why had he done that? So Voldy and Dumby could go holidaying together out of people’s eyes! But no, his sweetie had to misunderstand him and jinx the post so every new teacher had their arse kicked after a year of doing their job. Dumbledore shook his head sadly. Though you had to admit Voldemort looked cute when he was angry.
Dumbledore’s thoughts were broken as Padfoot’s words emerged again.
The art of getting your crush’s attention without sounding desperate or making him feel like he’s none other than God Himself, is highly detailed and extended, and needs a lot of carefully studying before you get even the basics. But fear not. I, Padfoot, love guru extraordinaire, shall try to give you quick & easy but effective tips that will make Voldemort’s feelings towards you change from hate to ...affection (for love is too strong a feeling for him).
First and the foremost- stop wearing clothes of any other colour except black. Take Snape’s help in buying black garments if you want to. Black is Voldemort’s absolute favourite. Last week Bellatrix got awarded for wearing black for five consecutive years! Lucius Malfoy got crucio’d for wearing pink- but you can’t blame Voldemort for that.
Secondly, join his Death Eater tribe. The way to Voldemort’s heart is through your loyalty to him…ever wondered why Bellatrix and he have been going so steady till now? That’s right—loyalty. Tell him you worship him- he appreciates people who are ever ready to sacrifice everything for him.
Last but not the least- go get a Dark Mark tattoo. He’ll love it.
So, these were some tips sure to help you find your way to Voldemort’s mind, um, *shivers* …body, and soul from Padfoot, the supreme expert in matters relating to heart. *cheesy smile* I shall now take your leave, Headmaster, and truly speaking, I hope I see you with a different crush next time. Check out Professor McGonagall. I always thought you two had something going on! Or maybe Professor Sprout… she may be chubby but you’re no yours truly either. Ha! Just joking. Anyway, so long, dear sir, and all the best!
Dumbledore chuckled. Always the life of everything- Sirius Black. He must keep those points in mind…maybe, someday he and Voldemort…
He shook his head to clear it of the images that formed in his head, which most people would have found nauseating. His heart beating with a renewed flutter, he shifted his blue eyes to the Map as a result of which the yellowing parchment yielded up the words of Prongs, The Sports Guide.
Prongs wishes the Headmaster a very good evening and desires to express his delight at having him here. Getting straight to business, sir- sports! Ah, the ultimate medium of achieving joy, satisfaction and greatness in life! I see that you have been very active in this field since childhood. Quidditch, Aingingein, Shuntbumps, Stitchstock, Swivenhodge, Gobstones… you have tried your hand in each one, and I’m very glad to see that. The Headmaster of a school needs to be well versed in this very important field. I see that you have been the Seeker for Gryffindor Quidditch Team in your Hogwarts years. Quite an achievement, sir! Personally I’m surprised to know all this for I always imagined you to be quite a bookworm, very much like our dear Remus. No offence!
Immediately Remus’s words appeared on the map.
I will let you know, Prongs, that being a bookworm has never been a shameful thing for anyone. I’m sure Dumbledore sir shall agree.
Dumbledore, amused at this light hearted squabble between the friends, nodded. It should be a matter of pride for anyone to be interested in books.
Yes, well, anyway. At the stage of life where you currently stand, sir, I’d not really recommend any vigorous physical activity. A few broken teeth and muscle spasms are all you will accomplish.
But, no, my dear man, no need to pout! I do have something perfect for you. I’m sure you have heard of Yoga?
Dumbledore’s eyebrows shot up in curiosity. He had heard of Yoga, but never before had he given much thought to it.
It comprises breathing exercises and postures aimed at providing a healthy lifestyle to people of all ages, albeit who practise it, of course. I myself used to be a regular Yogi, the secret of my being so successful at Quidditch! But shh! Don’t tell anyone that, sir. I’m revealing it all to you since you’d do well with some jabs at health improving. All the best!
And with that, Prongs words disappeared, leaving behind them a pensive Dumbledore. “What did he mean, I’d do well with some jabs at health-improving?” he voiced his worry out loud.
“Surely, Albus, you know!” sang the many hairs on his head.
Dumbledore shook his head. “What do you think he meant?”
The hairs, as if on cue, broke into a song. Their shrill voices sounded melodious together and Dumbledore found himself swaying to their tones.
You are a wizard old,
And very soon we’re afraid
You’re going to lie down cold!”
Dumbledore stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes snapping open, but the hairs were not yet finished with their cheerful song.
To start doing some yoga
For that only can save you,
And us too- Start some yoga!
“Fine, fine, you naughty little things!” spoke Dumbledore, chortling. “I will have to study about Yoga, as well, then.” He moved up on the wooden platform where his table was kept, and pulled out a quill one of the inkpots. On the wall beside him was a bulletin board on which he stuck different notes, photographs, important newspaper cuttings and other such things that were of value to him. There was also a lengthy parchment on which “Things to Do This Year” was written as the Heading. Below it were different points, all of them things Dumbledore had promised himself to do this year, apparently. He wrote down “Attain sufficient information on Yoga from an expert and practise as advised” as point no. 14. As he glanced at the Thing to Do above it (‘13. Fix Snape a date; the chap’s acting utterly miserable these days!’), his face fell. His attempts in that field had not been successful, chiefly due to the fact that Snape attempted to hex him every time he raised the topic.
Sighing, Dumbledore walked back to the Map. Snape’s love life would be dealt with later. He picked the Map and wondered what Peter Pettigrew would advise him to do.
Good evening, master. Wormtail is happy to see you came to get advice from him. I’ve come to know that you love eating sweets. Well, since Moony mentioned that you should study about sweets, I thought I’d advise you about opening your own sweets factory once you have enough knowledge about them.
Dumbledore wanted to laugh the suggestion off as soon as he’d read it. “Gah, that’s such a…” Dumbledore’s face changed expression as he ended “brilliant idea!”
What, Dumbledore contemplated, would be the use of researching about candies if he did not ultimately put his knowledge to use? Wormtail had just given him an ingenious inspiration. Dumbledore walked to his bed and sat down, slowly lowering himself and day dreaming about the shop he’d open. Dumbledore’s Sweet Emporium he would name it. Or perhaps Dumbledore’s Candy Corner? The prospect was amazing. Hundreds of little kids, thronging his shop to buy Acid Pops, Blood Pops, Canary Cream, Chocoballs, Droobles Gum, Chocolate Frogs, Exploding Bonbons, Ice Mice, Cockroach Clusters, Fizzing Whisbees, Jelly Slugs, Pepper Imps, Peppermint Toads, Liquorice Wands, Sugar Quills, Toothflossing Stringmints, Sugar Mice, Ton Tongue Toffee, Lemon Drops, Cauldron Cakes, Peppermint Humbugs, Pumpkin pasties, Treacle Fudge, Treacle Tart and of course- Cotton Candy!
While thus day dreaming and smacking his lips, Dumbledore had forgotten about the Marauder’s Map. It lay, at the moment, on the Headmaster’s table, unaware of its fate in the coming hours or anything else, for that matter, since it was a non-living thing.
A knock on the office door sounded through Dumbledore’s thoughts (who, at that moment was wondering if opening his shop would seem like a rude gesture towards Mr. Zonko.)
“Please come in.”
The door was pushed open by Minerva McGonagall.
“Good evening, Professor. I came to remind you about the staff meeting— ”
“Staff meeting? I thought we had it tomorrow.”
“No, sir, you’d changed the date to today.”
“Oh! Oh, I do remember now, of course I had. So, what about the staff meeting?”
McGonagall stared at him for a second. There was a hint of annoyance in her voice as she answered, “It starts in five minutes.”
“It does? Well, then, I’m ready!” said Dumbledore, rising and walking towards McGonagall. They both walked out of the office and Dumbledore, as he turned to close the door behind him, did not even look at the Marauder’s Map lying on his table.
Meanwhile, in the Gryffindor Common Room:
“…so yeah, I’m pretty scared of her right now,” Ron was saying to Harry, doodling on his Charms Textbook.
Harry shook his head and grinned. “Didn’t she know all along you were just doing this with her to make Hermione jealous?”
“Apparently not. But, how could she not? I mean, we never talked. I doubt she even knows what my surname is,” Ron muttered, punching a hole through a page in his book. “I dunno, one of these days you’re going to find me poisoned. Promise me you’ll make sure she goes to Azkaban after I’m dead, Harry.” Ron inhaled deeply and took a furtive peek in Lavender Brown’s direction, probably to make sure she wasn’t brewing any suspicious potion.
Lavender shot him a dirty look and turned her face away quickly, listening to Parvati’s gossip.
Ron had received a threatening note that morning. “You -censored- piece of –censored- how DARE you do something like that to me? I am going to –censored- and –censored- till you beg me for forgiveness” was what it contained. It hadn’t been signed, but having copied practically every essay of Lavender’s during their relationship had lasted, Ron could swear to God it was her handwriting.
“The only thing you could do is, as she said ‘beg for her forgiveness’,” began Harry but shut up when Ron turned to look at him like he had grown an extra head.
“Harry, mate, I’m not going anywhere near her!” Ron whimpered.
“Fine, then, suffer silently as she enjoys watching you!” snapped Harry. Why did Ron have to behave so… un-manly? Harry’s chest inflated with pride as he thought just how manly he himself was. But he suddenly remembered Lavender’s note and the air from his chest escaped, as if someone had punctured him.
“There’s no use sulking like this. Go and talk to her. Right now. See, she doesn’t have any weapon on her and this is too public a place to kill someone,” Harry encouraged Ron.
“You know what, Harry, you’re right. I need to be a man.” Ron nodded and looked up at him.
Exactly what I wanted to say Harry thought, but decided against saying so and deflating Ron’s new found confidence.
“Go, Ron, tell her who’s the boss!” Harry gave Ron a hand to make him stand up.
Ron didn’t say anything to this. Instead he walked up, determined, to the couch on which Lavender was sitting and stood there silent till she looked up at him.
Her friends stopped talking and passed each other silent messages through their eyes, grinning; messages which Harry could not decipher because he, after all, was not a girl.
“Yes, Ron, do you need anything?” Lavender asked Ron sweetly.
“Yes, I need you to stop sending me hostile, foul-language, creepy messages full of swear words that could have seriously damaged my mind had I not been so well-versed in them beforehand!” Ron exploded. Lavender’s sweet tone had agitated him more, Harry thought.
“Hostile, foul-language, creepy messages full of swear words? What do you mean, Won-Won?” asked Lavender, her eyes wide and an innocent expression on her face. Much too innocent, Harry thought.
“Oh you know what I mean, Lav Lav,” Ron spat out the nickname. He thrust into her face the note he had found glued to his bed that morning.
Lavender hardly looked it. She was staring at Ron, now with none of the former innocence. In fact, there was anything but innocence on her face as she suddenly started screaming “FINE! I WROTE IT TO YOU- BUT YOU DESERVED IT! YOU YOU–YOU- MADE OUT WITH ME A HUNDRED TIMES AND SUDDENLY ALL YOU CAN SEE IS THAT GRANGER GIRL!!! WITHOUT OFFERING ANY EXPLANATION YOU RUN OFF WITH HER! DO YOU EXPECT ME TO FREAKING STAY CALM AND PRETEND NOTHING HAPPENED?!?”
Everybody in the Common room was staring at either Lavender, marvelling at the strength of her vocal chords, or at Ron, disliking him for what Lavender had just made known up to Hogsmeade village.
“Lavender, we can sort this in private,” Ron’s voice was full of dignity, but his eyes begged her not to embarrass him anymore.
They stared at each other for a few moments. Lavender stood up and without a second glance behind her back, rushed out of the room.
Ron copied her.
Once outside the Common Room, they stood in front of the Fat Lady’s portrait. Lavender had her back turned on Ron, who had no idea what to say or do.
“Um, Lavender?” he began tentatively, and almost jumped when she turned to him crossly. She opened her mouth to speak but her voice came out ragged and low-pitched and not much like her shrill self. Ron looked at her, puzzled, and she whimpered, clutching her throat and coughing.
She said something again but the sound that came out was something like a toilet flush. Lavender’s anger had disappeared and there was despair on her face now. She gestured violently towards Ron, who watched, amused, the girl who had just scratched her throat hoarse by screaming at him.
Serves her right! thought Ron, but of course he didn’t dare say it. Lavender might have lost her voice, but she still had arms and legs.
Seeing this wasn’t going anywhere productive because Lavender was only growing agitated with him each passing second, Ron started, “Look, Lavender… I’m sure you know what happened between us was not real. It had to end someday; at least one of us is happy with how it finally did.”
Apparently it was a wrong thing to have said. Lavender’s nostrils flared.
“No, Lavender, please try to understand,” Ron exclaimed frantically. “We never really loved each other, did we? I only made out with you to make Hermione jealous. I mean, she had kissed Krum, you know…Krum? That conceited Quidditch git?” Ron grumbled.
Wrong, all wrong. Lavender clenched her teeth. Poor Ron, he didn’t know that the fact that Hermione had kissed an International Quidditch player had infuriated Lavender even more.
“C’mon, Lavender!” Ron said helplessly. “Everyone uses somebody once in a while! I’m sure you have too. No, no, I didn’t mean that in a bad sense.” groaned Ron as Lavender let out an angry noise.
“All I want to say is…” Ron trailed off. Enough with explanations. “I’m sorry, Lavender. It was a mean thing to do, using you like that.” He finally said, looking down at the floor.
He glanced up and was relieved; finally, finally, Lavender showed signs of calming down. She was mouthing some words at the moment but Ron hadn’t been paying close attention. He shook his head and said “Start again.”
“Do you really mean that?” mouthed Lavender.
“Yeah.” Ron said and as an afterthought said something he really shouldn’t have.
“Hermione’s loads better anyway.” Grinning, he dashed for his life as Lavender made an exasperated noise and ran after him.
I’m sure you remember how we left the Marauder’s Map in Dumbledore’s office, or rather, how he left it: lying alone and abandoned on his table.
What happened next can only be attributed to Mr. Fate’s crafty genius, which he uses to make the world go round. Dumbledore closing of the door of his office caused a draught to be produced, which in turn caused our dear Marauder’s Map to fly straight out of the window and lay down peacefully on the grass growing outside.
There it lay for a happy half- hour before two thick (mentally as well as physically) students came across it. They had the terrible habit of interfering in other people’s businesses, which can be credited for the fact that they picked the Map up and carried it back to show to their, for the lack of a better word, boss. Or gang leader. Or master. You get the idea.
“What do you think this is?” the taller of them spoke.
“I want food,” the other grunted.
So they started eating in the Great Hall and were half way through it when they heard someone come and stand behind them.
“Aren’t you done stuffing yet? I was looking for you!” snapped Draco Malfoy.
A/N: Ta’da! That’s it. Hope you enjoyed, I sure did while writing.
-I would like to thank Jaime for helping me find sweets names that Dumbledore plans to have in his shop.
-I would also like to say that I am as revolted as you are by the Voldy-Dumby thing, so don’t review telling me I need medical help!
-Third- review. It sure took me a long time to update & I’m sorry, but that’s no reason to run away as soon as you finish reading. Constructive Criticism is especially welcome, but I’d love to hear anything you’ve got to say.
-Fourth- You should check out my R/Hr One Shot and tell me what you think about it. Pretty please? =)
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