Dumbledore was enjoying his retirement by ‘death’ enormously. ‘No more teachers, no more books; no more students’ dirty looks!’ he hummed to himself, stretching by the fireside with a cup of tea.
Just as he was contemplating dinner, a tawny owl tapped on the window of his secluded cottage. He came out of his reverie and groaned. It was an owl! A bloody school owl! What did they want from him now? He had ‘died’ and should have been left alone to pursue his hobby of knitting socks and philosophizing about Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!
He sighed. ‘That’s not meant to be! Ah, well, I may as well scrounge up dinner while I am at the school.’
With the prospect of a substantial fare watered with the finest oak matured mead in his near future, Albus Dumbledore, ‘late’ ex-Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, set forth to visit his old haunts.
*
Cheers rent the air as he walked up to the castle doors.
‘Albus, good to see you back!’
‘Professor, how have you been doing?’
‘Dumbly-dorr, what a pleasure!’
‘Wotcher Professor!’
After many handshakes, gifts of lemon sherbets, fake wands that turned into chickens and cautions of “Constant Vigilance!”, Dumbledore made his way to the Great Hall, with Fred and George Weasley escorting him to the sound of a funeral march.
Minerva McGonagall greeted him warmly just inside the entrance and lead him up to the High Table. She started to brief him on the agenda of the meeting.
‘The characters have become restless at the way they are being portrayed in fan fiction and wanted to have a chat about it. Hence, I have asked them to gather here so we can discuss their grievances.’
‘Hmm!’ replied Dumbledore. ‘That’s serious indeed! But the most important question of the evening is…’
‘Yes?’ McGonagall asked apprehensively.
‘…are you serving dinner?’
‘Oh, Albus! You always manage to hit the point, don’t you?’
‘Always, my dear! Always!’ Dumbledore laughed as a bell chimed and the characters started to file in.
As the rest of the staff took their places beside him, Dumbledore noted the Gryffindor table was quite full and that the Gryffindor crowd overflowed onto other tables, as Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were under-represented. The Slytherin table too provided a healthy complement to the Gryffindor strength.
‘Do we eat first or discuss?’ McGonagall asked of the audience.
‘Food!’ chorused the audience and in a short time, dinner was in full swing. After the dessert had been cleared and the audience was relaxing with goblets of Butterbeer and mead, McGonagall stood and called for attention.
‘We have called this meeting to discuss some of the ‘angst’ that you have felt over the way your ‘Characters’ are being represented in fan fiction,’ she said in a clear, carrying voice. ‘This is an opportunity for you all to speak up. The Hall has been charmed to ensure everyone will hear. Who wants to go first?’
Snape stood up. ‘Professors,’ he said, turning to Dumbledore and McGonagall, ‘I do not have a heart, and I do not lust after my students, especially insufferable “know-it-alls”. I have a reputation to protect.’ He sat down after a meaningful glare towards the Gryffindor table.
‘A repugnant reputation,’ chimed in Remus Lupin (aka Moony).
‘Dirty Dancing Dementors!’ swore Sirius Black (aka Padfoot). ‘Can the big words, Moony! I am yet to digest my dinner. But tell me, who will write romance stories about that bat? Snivellus Sexy Snape? They should be really batty! Ha! Ha!’ Sirius laughed at his own joke.
‘It’s easy for you to laugh, Sirius, when it is I who ends up romancing him, much to my disgust!’ Hermione Granger grimaced. ‘Not to forget Draco. Why me? Of course, I would love to be a non-brain and exercise my libido, but of all the men in Canon (and outside), why should I end up with gits like Snape and Malfoy most of the time?’
‘Well,’ drawled Sirius, ‘at least I seem to have variety. Too much in fact. Most of the time I seem to be snogging or shagging somebody, mostly some poorly characterized Other Character.’
‘What are you complaining about?’ James Potter (aka Prongs) said laughingly. Pointing to his wife, Lily, he mocked, ‘I have to be stuck with this stupid cow from year one. I have no variety, no other relationship. The standard line everybody says is “Single-minded determined pursuit from when we were 11 years”.’ Giving his wife a cheeky bow, he said, ‘Oh, wife of mine! You’re a wonderful woman! But, we’ve been stuck to each other for too long. Give me a break!’
Lily kissed his cheek and ruffled his hair. ‘Poor old Prongs!’ she said teasingly. ‘You’re my one true love! You offered unswerving devotion only to me, whereas, I have had clandestine affairs with all the other Marauders. She looked up at the High Table and said, ‘But my ‘affairs’ with Snape were the most fulfilling. Weren’t they, Sevvie?’ Lily fluttered her eyelashes and blew a kiss at Snape. He gave her a withering look in return.
Sirius and Remus laughed at the look on James’s face. Remus summed it up, ‘Between Prongs and Padfoot, you have all the stories of teenage hormones.’
‘Hormones!’ shouted Harry Potter. ‘HORMONES!’ he screamed, resorting to his CAPS LOCK tendencies. ‘Give me some normal teenage hormones for a change! Why should I be a saviour? Why should the universe of my lovelife be restricted to one woman, like my father? Why can’t I skive off, drink Firewhisky on the sly, snog random hot girls and look forward to the deflowering of my virginity instead of brooding over the destabilization of the magical world?’
In the silence that followed this outburst came Remus’s drawl. ‘I told you, Lily, naming Padfoot as Harry’s godfather would be a bad influence on him.’
Ginny Weasley stood and said angrily, ‘Hey Potter! You want to go snog random hot girls? Kiss yourself goodbye! I’ll be snogging Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy!’
Ron broke into the argument. ‘Harry, mate, what are you complaining about? I would love to save the wizarding world from peril instead of just being the adenoidal, comic side-kick. In fact, I’ll be grateful if I’m allowed to live. In most stories, I get conveniently killed off to make way for Hermione’s various affairs. I end up getting the Order of Merlin posthumously, First Class though. You think that’s funny?’
‘Oh, ickle Ronniekins!’ chorused the Weasley twins in unison.
‘What is his role in the stories Gred?’
‘He holds the plots together Forge, by his absence.’
‘What does Hermione see in him?’
‘He is a challenge to her intellect, by his lack of.’
‘Why does he get the Order of Merlin, First Class?’
‘Because he does “‘
‘The wizarding world “‘
‘A great service by “‘
‘Dying!’ they finished together, bowing modestly at the applause given their well-rehearsed act.
Ron got up to wrestle the twins and Bill and Charlie attempted to subdue their brothers. In-between Ron’s Scourgify and Bill’s Aguamenti, the Gryffindor table soon became a bubble bath. Chaos ensued for another ten minutes before McGonagall restored order, but not before Sirius hit some bubbles with an engorging charm and James caused them to chase Lily and Remus.
‘While talking about side-kicks, why should I be a spineless, insignificant, insipid part of the Marauders?’ questioned Peter Pettigrew (aka Wormtail). ‘I have single-handedly resurrected the Dark Lord and play a vital role in the Second War. Why can’t I be shown with more of a backbone? What am I, Man or a Mouse?’
As if they had been waiting for this outburst, the other three Marauders looked at one another and chorused, ‘Neither! Rat!’
The whole Hall burst into laughter that Peter good naturedly joined in.
‘You know,’ said Lucius Malfoy, ‘I would like to complain about the company my son keeps. His “preferences” leave me amazed at times. I must protest all that adulation about my sex appeal as well. How can I do my Death Eater part and be feared as an Evil Slytherin if I am perceived as an Adonis? Fans have written odes about my hair alone!’
Narcissa and her sisters sniggered at the comment. They had been subjected to this tirade many times before. ‘Oh! Uncle Lush-cious!’ Nymphadora Tonks sang wickedly.
‘And,’ continued Lucius, after glaring at the women, ‘I despise the part of men in love.’ He emphasized the last three words bitterly.
‘What is wrong with men in love, Lucius?’ Dumbledore enquired. ‘Unless you have no heart like Severus over here.’
‘Seven men? All in love with each other? In the same bed?’ asked Lucius wryly.
‘And I,’ said Blaise Zabini, from beside Lucius at the Slytherin table, ‘suffer from an identity crisis. In half the stories, I am a female. Thanks to HBP at least, the question of my sexuality was cleared up.’
‘Not to mention the varied colors of hair and eyes attributed to us,’ added Lily. ‘At least they can’t go wrong with me, red hair and green eyes. But I could never reconcile the various descriptions they have for Remus, especially.’
‘Remus, why are you silent?’ asked Dumbledore. As if waiting for this cue, Remus erupted.
‘IDENTITY CRISIS? I am having the worst IDENTITY CRISIS ever! AND IT IS ALL YOUR FAULT DUMBLEDORE!’
‘I say, Lily,’ said James, in the ensuing silence, ‘are you sure Harry is my son? Seeing his and Moony’s tendencies to talk in CAPS LOCK makes me ponder over your various affairs.’
‘You prat!’ said Lily and proceeded to thump him, adding levity to the situation as James had intended, giving Remus time to get his emotions under control.
‘I am sorry, Albus.’ Remus apologized after reining in his emotions and feeling aghast at his outburst. ‘These things are testing my patience. I am portrayed as a weak animal and sometimes even my gender is suspect. I am shown as having affairs with almost all characters, irrespective of age and sex. I think the only people left out are Firenze and Mrs. Norris,’ he finished with his trademark wry humour.
‘Even me?’ asked Dumbledore, wonderingly.
‘Yes,’ said Remus quietly. ‘What the heck! I’ve “done” all the Weasley offspring and their prospective partners, and shared tender moments with both Arthur and Molly.’
‘Even Penelope?’ enquired Fred, with a sly look at Percy’s complacent face.
‘On her wedding night,’ said Remus, with a sardonic smile. The twins burst into laughter at the appalled expression on Percy’s face.
‘Oi! Percy!’ called Fred cheekily. ‘Maybe, you should spend more time at home than at the Ministry, writing reports that never get read.’
‘Right said Fred!’ agreed George.
‘So, it is true about Werewolves!’ declared James with a look of shared amusement with Sirius.
‘What?’ growled Remus.
‘That they are hung like a Hippogriff and randy as hell!’ finished Sirius, smirking widely.
‘You ...’
Dumbledore cut the swearfest by asking Remus, ‘But, Remus, how does all this become my fault? Could you please explain?’
‘Well,’ said Remus, turning to Dumbledore, ‘do you remember what you told Sirius at the end of Book IV, GoF?’
‘I told him to alert the old crowd.’
‘And?’ prompted Remus.
Trying to recollect his thoughts, Dumbledore finally smiled with realization and said, ‘”Lie low at Lupin’s”!’
‘See where it has led me,’ said Remus, with a wry smile. He then added with a sly look at Sirius. ‘But you know, Padfoot, the upshot of your lying low at Lupin’s? I got to be on Top!’
Sirius needed no further prompting before setting off to hex Remus. Soon the Hall witnessed a great duelling, with both wizards weaving a path between the other characters who promptly jumped out of the way of the various hexes and curses that the duelers aimed at each other.
Sirius found himself near Madame Hooch while dodging, and never one to lose an opportunity, kissed her with words of, ‘Where were you when we were studying?’ and danced off to continue his duel.
The assembled characters had never seen Madame Hooch so dumbstruck. She, of the steely eye and razor-sharp words, who quelled hardened Quidditch players like Oliver Wood and Marcus Flint by the mere twitch of her eyebrows? Never!
The whole assembly split up into two sides, cheering on their champions. After much cheers of ‘Go Moony!’ and ‘Go Padfoot!’, and placing of bets on the outcome by Mundungus Fletcher (who collected a sackful incidentally) the match was declared a draw. Remus (having sprouted horns, danced on his hands and turned a becoming shade of green) collapsed at the table beside Sirius (having grown tentacles on his face, been disrobed & dressed in a frilly camisole and been chequered like a chess board).
Tonks came over and hugged Remus, while he caught his breath. Sirius asked in mock seriousness, ‘What is it about you, Moony, that makes all these people flock to you?’
‘Animal Magnetism?’ Remus shot back.
‘You sexy beast!’ screamed Sirius, in a display of pretended awe.
Tonks, never too formal and always being accused by her teachers of “not having the ability to behave herself”, started belting out a popular Muggle song, modified for Remus.
‘He’s too sexy for his snout,’ she sang.
‘Too sexy for his tail.’ Tonks jumped onto the table.
‘Too sexy for his tufts.’ She did a small jig.
‘Oh, he’s tooo sex-xy…’ She clutched her hand over her heart.
‘…It hurts!’ She repeated the stanza one more time.
By the end of the stanza, the second time, Hermione and Ginny had joined her on the table. Charlie picked up the beat by drumming on the table and Bill started keeping time by playing the cutlery and goblets. The twins, Ron and Harry had started dancing in the aisles.
‘He’s too sexy for his fangs,’ sang Ginny.
‘Too sexy for his paws,’ sang Hermione.
‘Too sexy for his claws,’ sang Tonks.
'Oh, he’s tooo sex-xy…’ All three women said together, clutching their hands over their hearts.
‘…It gnaws?’ added Lily, joining them on the table.
By this time, Sirius was highly irritated. He wanted to be the centre of female attention. Always.
‘He’s too sexy for his fur,’ sang Lily.
‘For his spoor!’ spat out Sirius.
‘That too!’ said Tonks, making a raspberry at Sirius.
‘Too sexy for his howl,’ sang Ginny.
‘I scowl!’ growled Sirius.
‘Too sexy for his face,’ sang Hermione.
‘His ass!’ Sirius was thoroughly irritated by now.
‘That too!’ Tonks leered at Remus. ‘Too sexy for his ass!’
‘Oh, he’s tooo sex-xy…’ All four women sang, clutching their hands over their hearts.
‘…It shows!’ they chorused.
‘Aww! Shut up!’ screamed Sirius. ‘Moony, please shut them up before I hex them.’
Remus pulled the lead singer into his arms and proceeded to kiss her soundly.
‘Oh, Ree-mus!’ Tonks moaned.
‘Oh, Ree-mus!’ sighed the other singers.
‘Sorry girls, I am a one-woman man, err, werewolf. But I appreciate your song. So, Orchideus!’ He proceeded to give the girls lovely bouquets of flowers.
‘Oh, Ree-mus! Thanks!’ cried the singers.
‘Oh, Ree-mush!’ said Sirius in disgust, looking at his cousin and mate’s kissfest. ‘Stop it, Moony! The way you both are at it, we should be calling you “the Moany-s”!’
‘Jealous, Padfoot?’ asked Remus. ‘See, I have to make up for my almost 20 years of near celibacy.’
‘But nobody told you to make good in 20 days,’ retorted Sirius.
While the Gryffindors were absorbed with their private drama, Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall were listening to complaints from others. After sadly concurring with Professor Sprout that Hufflepuff would never be properly represented and regretfully telling Filch his magically-challenged status was unlikely to be remedied, they looked up when a person stood up from the far corner of the Hall, and made his way to the front.
He was wearing a three-piece business suit and a fedora pulled low down over his head, casting his face in half-shadow. The others craned their heads to look at him and assumed he was one of the Ministry types, albeit, a well-dressed one in the Muggle-fashion.
He swept up to the High Table and with a mock bow to Dumbledore. ‘Ah, Professor Dumbledore!’
‘Why do you hide your face?’ Dumbledore questioned.
‘It’s too dangerous for my face to be shown. It’s too difficult to fight the hoardes. Well, what the heck?’ He pulled the fedora off his face with a flourish.
He was Tall, Dark and Handsome. For that category of Male Gorgeousness, he should have been the prototype. Aquiline nose, cleft chin and full lips that promised slow, languorous kisses and a husky drawl with a hint of a rasp; in short, a handsome devil.
That is what he was “ the devil. Lord Voldemort.
There was a collective sigh from the women in the audience.
‘Yes, Tom,’ said Dumbledore amusedly. ‘To what do we owe the pleasure of your presence?’
‘Didn’t you realize that I too have my fair share of complaints about the stories? Look at me!’ He struck a dramatic pose and another collective sigh went up from the female members of the audience, some of whom edged closer.
‘I have to fight off these hoardes all the time,’ he growled, glancing at those who were edging near to him. ‘They don’t make men any the Gorgeouser and look at how I am portrayed in the books!’
‘”Gorgeouser”?’ queried Dumbledore. ‘Is that an adjective?’
‘Dumbledore, this is not the time for semantics!’
‘Oh! Please continue.’
‘What don’t I have? Looks? Brains? Ambition? Power? I am such an exacting measure of these qualities and look at all the bad press I get.’
‘But that is how you are portrayed in Canon,’ replied Dumbledore, trying to figure out where the conversation was headed.
‘Don’t tell me all characters are as per Canon in fan fiction. You, sly old devil, even you have various affairs.’
‘Really? I think I have a lot of catching up to do.’
Voldemort sighed. ‘Why am I always portrayed as a soul-less, cold creature, with hardly a face? Forget Canon, why do they persist with this portrayal in fan fiction too?’
He continued to rant.
‘So, I may not know what love is, but can’t I have some lust? I want to be a real, suave villain in an ultra-luxury pad with a babe on either arm or a voluptuous blonde entwining my legs. Look what I end up with “ a broken down house, a smelly old graveyard and a bloody great snake that is better looking than I am!’
He gestured with his wand and a table sprang up beside the High Table. It sported a placard with the following words. “Do you desire Power? Do you desire Wealth? Do you desire Me? Join the Death Eaters! Get signed copies of my biography, ‘Maniacal Me’. Initiation rites include an orgy where I am the pièce de résistance. Don’t fight; there is plenty of me to go around.” A lot of women were already standing in queue to sign up.
‘So that is how he recruits!’ exclaimed Dumbledore. Turning to Snape, he said, ‘Now I understand why you do not like to be a Death Eater.’
In an aside to McGonagall, he whispered urgently, ‘I say Minerva, is Gilderoy still alive at St.Mungo’s? Our delusional villain seems to be channeling him strongly!’
‘Tom! That is enough!’ Dumbledore told Voldemort sharply. The latter immediately folded up the registration with placating smiles at the wannabe recruits.
The Headmaster continued, ‘Coming back to the agenda, I see that most of you have voiced your angst. I hope it has been beneficial, venting your feelings, because, I’m afraid, fan fiction writers will continue to write however they please.’
‘But, Professor Dumbledore,’ interrupted Hermione, ‘shouldn’t we send some of these clarifications to our Creator herself, so that future Canon becomes easier to interpret?’
‘That’s an idea, Hermione. Thank you for the suggestion.’ Addressing the audience he asked, ‘What do you think should be added?’
‘Colour of eyes.’
‘Colour of hair.’
‘Gender.’
‘Sexual preference,’ said Remus.
‘Strength of libido,’ said Sirius. (Who else?)
‘A love angle,’ declared the delusional villain.
Dumbledore noted down their complaints. He promised that they would meet again next month to review progress and bade them all goodnight.
As the characters started drifting out of the Hall, McGonagall asked Dumbledore, ‘What do you think?’
‘I am beginning to think that this is the “Hogwarts School of Bitchcraft and Bizarre-y”!’
Epilogue:
The next morning found Dumbledore in his cottage, trying to compose a resolution of sorts that underlined the characters’ requests, to the various fanfiction offices. He was wondering as to what would happen if the stories started being politically correct as per the characters’ requests.
He imagined the opening line of a story:
Harry Potter was sitting in his bedroom at No.4 Privet Drive and thinking about his late godfather, Sirius Black, and his best friend Remus Lupin. He was awaiting Hedwig’s arrival as he desperately wanted to write to his best friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, asking them about spending the rest of the vacation with them.
Seemed simple and straightforward enough, thought Dumbledore. He then muttered an incantation and tapped the paragraph thrice. Suddenly the paragraph expanded to fill the page. With growing trepidation, Dumbledore started reading:
Harry Potter (Human, Male, Age 16, Black Hair and Green Eyes, virgin right now but hopes status quo will not continue, hetero, normal adolescent hormones, suffers from delusional condition of ‘I am the savioritis’) was sitting in his bedroom (just sitting all alone) at No.4 Privet Drive and thinking about his late (as in departed or dead, and not tardy as is usually the case with that person) godfather (just thinking as in ‘He’s my godfather; a father substitute’ and not in any way intimately), Sirius Black (Human, Male, Age 36 at time of death, Black Hair and Grey Eyes, lost virginity: self at age 13; for others- numerous to mention, hetero, on adolescent hormones till death, suffered from delusions of grandeur), and his (the godfather’s and not Harry’s) best friend (Note: ‘best friend’ “ meaning pal, ally, partner in crime but definitely no implication of a partner in any other sense) Remus Lupin (Werewolf, Male, Age 37, Sandy Hair streaked with Grey and Amber Eyes, virginity “ lost some time in the distant past, hetero: definitely; please underline, normal male hormones with a wolf overdrive; latter sometimes may rule drive; will answer questions on if he is hung like a particular ’horsey-eagle’ only face-to-face on a full moon night “ so better beware, Mostly Harmless). He was awaiting Hedwig’s (Avian, Owl, Nyctea scandica, Female, not mated to knowledge but awaiting somebody with knowledge of Owlish for further interpretation) arrival as he desperately (not as in dangerously or recklessly but more in terms of needy) wanted to write (no part of the owl was used to write the letter as the owl was used only for owl post “ so no letting of blood or plucking of feathers; the author also wishes to add that no owls or other animals were harmed in the writing of the story and hopes that the regular demolition of a dozen Chocolate Frogs per chapter do not count) to his best friends (Note: best friends as in two; one is not favoured over the other) Ron Weasley (Human, Male, Age 16, Red Hair and Blue Eyes, virgin right now but not longer at this rate, hetero, a real excess of adolescent hormones, perpetual illness of side-kickimia) and Hermione Granger (Human, Female, Age 16, Brown Hair and Brown Eyes, virgin: doubtful as of now because of the Krum connection but that has been classified under International Relations, hetero, normal adolescent hormones, certainly non-delusional albeit tends to suffer from know-it-allitis), asking them about spending the rest of the vacation with them(as in together with their families and not in anyway a ménage à trois as maybe mis-understood).
Dumbledore sighed and thought that the writers of fanfiction did not have it easy. According to Hermione’s suggestion, he thought of sending their Creator also an owl with the requests. At least it will be a good laugh for her.
He was about to seal the envelopes when an owl came and pecked the window. Another bloody school owl! He scowled as he read the message, “Voldemort gone missing. Please come at once! Minerva McGonagall.”
He sighed. ‘Even “death” is not the ultimate retirement!’
* * *
Sequel Teaser: Voldemort finds his true calling and Ron saves the day. But why is everybody angry with Mundungus?