Your author wishes she could end this story on a happy note of Seamus finally being able to teach Hagrid to do his tumbleturns, and Stevey joyously demanding to cut parts of the story for his own amusement, but it is not so. This story was not destined for such an ending, thus we follow the residual Gryffindors and Hagrid as they make their way to our resident wedding.
Before they could even enter the large circus tent that had been erected for the occasion, Molly Weasley came storming out.
“No! I refuse to cook for you! Look Minerva; is it my fault that you decided to get married at the last minute? No, no it is not. I’m not going to mother you, and I’m not going to cook for the whole school. I’m sorry. No.”
At this point in time, Stevey is to be seen running down the front stairs to the tent. He was breathing heavily, but nonetheless, attempted to speak; “I’m going to have to c-”
But he never got to finish that sentence, poor Stevey. The reason he didn’t have the chance was… well, it’s quite painful to even recall, but I’ll do my best.
A dragon (yes, a dragon!) suddenly appeared from the midst of the ForbiddenForest, and made its way swiftly to the circus tent. 10 wands pointed at it, preparing a stunning spell, but before they could cast it, the dragon spoke (yes, spoke) up. It cleared its throat and straightened its bow tie.
“Excuse me,” it spoke politely to Stevey, “I’m afraid you’re going to have to explain to me the reason you’re alive, or I will eat you. You understand, it’s in the contract.”
Stevey was speechless. Needless to say, well… :dragon: . Turns out that after cutting a certain amount from the wizarding world for entertainment, a dragon has the right to eat such a convicted muggle. This one was nice though, and gave him an opportunity to rectify himself. It was all written in the fine print.
“Zymurgy is our queen!” – Three guesses as to who said that. Sadly, there’s no time to start a campaign, the plot monsters are chasing me. That, my friends, is the meaning of life.
In my defence, I would like to point out that most of this was written in the unGodly hours of the morning. Sucks to have a real life, I know.
__________________
50
|