Harry Potter half-time show
Mar. 24th, 2005 09:48 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ciroccojOn a brief fic & lj break before another plunge back into the abyss of mental paralysis that is Administrative Law.
Chris took the test where everybody keeps coming up Squib, and to our mutual unsurprise ended up in:
***
Found two good fics late last night that made up for the dismal failure of my earlier attempt at distracting myself, and felt much, much better. In fact, I ended up taking a bunch of humorous quotes from one of them to show to Chris. If these sound familiar to anybody, can you point me to the story? It takes place after the war, when many of the characters are now working for the Ministry of Magic sort of mopping up bad magical stuff like demons and monsters. Rather... um, adult, in its main plot, but with a whole bunch of good funny bits and writing that conveys a lot in very few words. And a lot of rather cliched situations that end up working (for me) because the writer doesn't seem to take them all that seriously, or gives them a slight twist.
"Bet it's easy for you," Draco'd said, grinning, buttoning his cuffs.
"Right," Harry had said, sitting down on the narrow wooden bench to pull on his shoes. "And you're having such a difficult time with your 'I'm Draco Malfoy, master of espionage, redeemed from the dark' thing."
"Hm, yes," Draco had said, brightly. "That does work well. Still, 'hello ladies, I'm Harry Potter' works better."
"How would you know?" Ron had said, knotting his tie.
Draco had only grinned, and arched one eyebrow while adjusting the leather strap of his wand holster beneath his arm.
***
Ron had purchased a large flat plasma screen television. He had given Draco his old television, mostly because he was tired of having to explain Law and Order in great detail on Wednesdays.
***
"Shouldn't you be off with Hermione and Ginny anyhow?" Ron said, following Draco through the door and down a curved stone staircase.
"They're infiltrating a coven in Wales," Draco said. "All girls; fond of killing men, and all."
By the time they arrived, the hydra was up to 48 heads, and Neville and Harry were taking a breather behind a large sycamore tree.
"You know," Draco said informatively, "when you cut off a hydra's head, he grows two more in its place."
"Fuck you," Harry said.
"Good morning to you, too," Ron said.
"It used to have 114 heads," Neville said. He was leaning back against the tree, holding a sword that had flames licking quietly around the edge, and the sleeve of his jacket was torn open, stained with blood.
"You should go back," Harry said, "get that taken care of. Draco can—"
"We're using a fucking magical sword?" Draco said. "Are you fucking crazy?"
"You want to flush out the kits?" Harry said.
"Give me the damn sword," Draco said, holding out his hand. "I'll have you know I could be in the countryside right now, taking photographs of Ginny and Hermione pretending to be lesbians," he added disconsolately, as he swung the sword in several practiced figure-eights.
***
There was a cluster of memos waiting for him, and they swooped happily around his head before settling into an orderly queue, but when Neville came through the door, Ron was still staring at the fourth one, which was a report that had been returned to them with a curt suggestion that underwritten reports were not acceptable.
"Harry again," Neville said, looking over his shoulder, where the mission report section said 'Found demons (2). Killed them.' in Harry's careless script.
"It's accurate," Ron said.
***
"Harry called us back at ass o'clock in the morning," Draco said. "Really, until you've squelched through twenty miles of be-shitted French farmland with a pack of crups, and the Boy Who Lived bitching on about faulty intelligence gathering, you haven't been on a real minibreak."
Chris took the test where everybody keeps coming up Squib, and to our mutual unsurprise ended up in:
| SLYTHERIN! You scored 52% Slytherin, 24% Ravenclaw, 24% Gryffindor, and 40% Hufflepuff! |
| Or perhaps in Slytherin You'll make your real friends, These cunning folk use any means To achieve their ends. Slytherins are known for their ambition, guile, and Machiavellian sensiblities. |
 |
| Link: The Sorting Hat Test written by leeannslytherin on Ok Cupid |
Found two good fics late last night that made up for the dismal failure of my earlier attempt at distracting myself, and felt much, much better. In fact, I ended up taking a bunch of humorous quotes from one of them to show to Chris. If these sound familiar to anybody, can you point me to the story? It takes place after the war, when many of the characters are now working for the Ministry of Magic sort of mopping up bad magical stuff like demons and monsters. Rather... um, adult, in its main plot, but with a whole bunch of good funny bits and writing that conveys a lot in very few words. And a lot of rather cliched situations that end up working (for me) because the writer doesn't seem to take them all that seriously, or gives them a slight twist.
"Bet it's easy for you," Draco'd said, grinning, buttoning his cuffs.
"Right," Harry had said, sitting down on the narrow wooden bench to pull on his shoes. "And you're having such a difficult time with your 'I'm Draco Malfoy, master of espionage, redeemed from the dark' thing."
"Hm, yes," Draco had said, brightly. "That does work well. Still, 'hello ladies, I'm Harry Potter' works better."
"How would you know?" Ron had said, knotting his tie.
Draco had only grinned, and arched one eyebrow while adjusting the leather strap of his wand holster beneath his arm.
Ron had purchased a large flat plasma screen television. He had given Draco his old television, mostly because he was tired of having to explain Law and Order in great detail on Wednesdays.
"Shouldn't you be off with Hermione and Ginny anyhow?" Ron said, following Draco through the door and down a curved stone staircase.
"They're infiltrating a coven in Wales," Draco said. "All girls; fond of killing men, and all."
By the time they arrived, the hydra was up to 48 heads, and Neville and Harry were taking a breather behind a large sycamore tree.
"You know," Draco said informatively, "when you cut off a hydra's head, he grows two more in its place."
"Fuck you," Harry said.
"Good morning to you, too," Ron said.
"It used to have 114 heads," Neville said. He was leaning back against the tree, holding a sword that had flames licking quietly around the edge, and the sleeve of his jacket was torn open, stained with blood.
"You should go back," Harry said, "get that taken care of. Draco can—"
"We're using a fucking magical sword?" Draco said. "Are you fucking crazy?"
"You want to flush out the kits?" Harry said.
"Give me the damn sword," Draco said, holding out his hand. "I'll have you know I could be in the countryside right now, taking photographs of Ginny and Hermione pretending to be lesbians," he added disconsolately, as he swung the sword in several practiced figure-eights.
There was a cluster of memos waiting for him, and they swooped happily around his head before settling into an orderly queue, but when Neville came through the door, Ron was still staring at the fourth one, which was a report that had been returned to them with a curt suggestion that underwritten reports were not acceptable.
"Harry again," Neville said, looking over his shoulder, where the mission report section said 'Found demons (2). Killed them.' in Harry's careless script.
"It's accurate," Ron said.
"Harry called us back at ass o'clock in the morning," Draco said. "Really, until you've squelched through twenty miles of be-shitted French farmland with a pack of crups, and the Boy Who Lived bitching on about faulty intelligence gathering, you haven't been on a real minibreak."
