You get what you pay for. Theoretically.
Aug. 21st, 2004 05:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
timerippleDisclaimer (sort of): All characters belonging to JKR belong to JKR. All characters belonging to Melanie, Allie, and myself still belong to us, so hands, paws, other random appendages, OFF. Alas, I own no pink Fiskars safety scissors. Well, actually I do own some Fiskars safety scissors, but they're turquoise, and the company, its name, and rights to all products thereof belong to somebody else too.
Previously on GG&HTOTW...E,SI, Part 4
The chipmunks had landed their gliders on the rocks, Rubik’s Cube of Doom in tow, and half of them were now doing a victory dance around the fire. The other half were busy assembling what looked like a miniature catapult. (This was in fact precisely what it was. As they explained to the travelers, the chipmunks had captured the Rubik’s Cube of Doom and were intending to use it as their Ultimate Weapon in the Final Last-Ever Big Epic Battle against the squirrels, who were due any minute now, and could they please move three inches to the left?)
They obligingly moved three inches to the left. The chipmunks resumed calculating flight trajectories and muttering about angular momentum.
At that moment, an old man strolled toward them. He was very old, clothed in what once might have been a tent, and he had dirty toenails. He was also muttering to himself. Sighting the travelers brought a light to his old eyes, and he raised his head to address them.
“Goats! Fascinating creatures, they are, goats. Never underestimate a goat!”
There was a general shrug and exchange of “What’s this old codger on about?”-type looks. The chipmunks stopped dancing to listen. What followed was not so much a scintillating conversation as a one-sided lecture on goat-keeping and the finer points of goat psychology. Having said his piece, the old man moved on down the beach and disappeared, whistling.
Harry shrugged. “That was weird.”
“I already know plenty about goat psychology, anyway.” This was from Goat-Girl.
“I concur. Nonetheless, the knowledge may come in useful some day.” The Gentleman had taken the occasional note, and was now perusing them with a sharp and shrewd eye. “I am curious, however, as to why he chose to enlighten us.”
Goat-Girl shrugged too. “Maybe he liked my jacket.”
There were more general shrugs all round. The chipmunks resumed their dance.
Previously onGG&HTOTW...E,SI, Part 5
Goat-Girl’s - ah - creative vocabulary was apparently not limited to exclamations of surprise. Lord Voldemort eventually tired of her tirade, turned his attention to Harry, and launched into a long speech about the benefits of joining the Dark Side.
Previously on GG&HTOTW...E,SI, Part 6
Harry hurled the scissors at Voldemort, which struck him in the forehead. Voldemort flew backward a few paces and began to fizzle gently. Mr. Wiggle tossed his ubiquitous purple yo-yo, which further incapacitated the Dark Lord, and the squirrels and chipmunks set off their Rubik’s Cube of Doom-catapult with deadly aim. The result was a charred and unrecognizable twist of metal, a purple blob of plastic, and a spectacular multicolored fireworks display which expanded across the entire sky. The lights were so beautiful that nobody minded being uncerimoniously thrown to the ground by the explosion. They picked themselves off the ground and one another (some more quickly than others) and stood dazedly staring at the remains of Lord Voldemort, which were gleefully sparkling across the sky in a manner which suggested that they rather preferred this form of existence.
Ron and Hermione had recovered from their stupor and sat up, staring about. “Oh, Harry! Where’s V-Voldemort?”
“Blimey, mate, you look terrible. And what’s he –“ here Ron pointed to Draco – “still doing here?” The rest of the Death Eaters had Disapparated in an effort to avoid the falling sparks, which were oddly pink in color. Goat-Girl watched the darting pink lights flare and wink out with something like regret.
“Perhaps I’d better explain,” said the unflappable Mr. Wiggle, who proceeded to do so with clarity, detail, and a certain amount of flair.
Lady Peabody added an emphatic “Mrow!” in especially dramatic parts.
Phips calmly produced tea for everyone from the hamper.
PART VII. Epilogue. In which the Truth About Goat-Girl is finally revealed, a murex fisherman is useful, and The End happens.
Later, the party realized that they couldn’t simply lie around on a beach sipping tea and admiring ex-Dark-Lord-fireworks forever. So they began, in addition to lying about on a beach sipping tea and admiring ex-Dark-Lord-fireworks, to make a few Cunning Plans. First of all, a few questions had to be answered. Harry, Ron, and Hermione (and, no doubt, Mr. Wiggle, Phips, Lady Peabody, Draco Malfoy, and the assorted rodent armies) were curious as to how Goat-Girl knew so much about the wizarding world and Lord Voldemort while displaying no signs of magic whatsoever. She regretfully turned off the boombox, which had survived water, fire, mortal peril, and altitude sickness, and composed herself.
“Have you ever heard of a man called Aberforth Dumbledore?”
Ron nodded swiftly. “Oh yeah, wasn’t he – uh, help me out, Harry –“
“Prosecuted for practicing inappropriate charms on a goat.”
Harry and Ron paused for a moment to admire Hermione’s memory.
“That wasn’t…”
“Yes, it was.”
“You?!”
“Yup. “
“So you’re really a … goat?”
“No, I’m actually a human. I got caught in the crossfire of several Dark spells during one of Voldemort’s training sessions, and was accidentally turned into a goat by some really incompetent Death Eaters. My wand was also transformed. Great-Uncle Aberforth was trying to turn me back into a girl, but turning animals into humans is strictly frowned upon, and the Ministry caught him at it. So Great-Uncle Albus had to finish the job instead, and he sent me to university in the States. He couldn’t change my wand back, though, so I kept it as it was.”
“So you’re a witch?”
“Technically, not any more. My powers…my powers were well hidden. Very well hidden. They were no longer a part of me, but I carried them with me wherever I went.”
“How…?”
“My wand. It served as a vessel for all that remained of my magic, a symbol of what I had been and what I had lost.”
“The jacket?”
“What? Oh. No, I just liked it. Being a goat left rather an impression on me.”
Hermione gasped. “Then…”
They exchanged a frizzy-haired look, and after a moment, Goat-Girl nodded.
“The pink Fiskars safety scissors?!”
“Yes. Only they, combined with the dread mind-stealing power of a Rubick’s Cube of Doom and somebody’s Quidditch-honed really good aim, could ultimately defeat Lord Voldemort.”
They all stared, awestruck, at the twist of metal that had once been the pink Fiskars safety scissors.
“What about the purple yo-yo, then?” Harry still wasn’t sure how Mr. Wiggle’s communication device, now a purple blob lying uselessly next to him, fit into all this.
The Gentleman himself was happy to provide an answer. “Simple diversionary tactics, my young friends. It was vital that he not anticipate the fatal blow of the Rubik’s Cube of Doom. Had he been able to dodge, the results would have been disastrous for the island, us, and most of the known universe.”
“And you. How do you know all this stuff?” Goat-Girl, it seemed, had a few questions of her own.
“Well. I can’t tell you everything, of course…” Mr. Wiggle paused and surveyed the faces of his companions. “However, you should know by now that I am, in fact, the world’s leading expert on the Rubik’s Cubes of Doom. I once disarmed one by solving it in record time, and that has not been my only experience with the devices.”
“Wait, you mean there are more of those things out there?” Hermione gestured wildly in a vague direction indicating “the rest of the known universe”.
“Oh yes.”
Everybody stared for a moment, shivered, and went back to toasting the marshmallows Phips had produced from the hamper’s inexhaustible interior.
* * *
At last the fire died, an early-evening zephyr swept over the beach, and it was time to say good-bye.
Hermione and Ron waved down a murex fisherman and bribed him to take them to the Peloponnese. There were no doubt a few interesting interludes, but they made it safely back and embarked on other adventures of their own in remote and exotic locations.
Harry decided to return to England. His dream was to become a hairstylist, after all, and while he hadn’t thought much of Voldemort’s Franchise of Evil scheme, the idea of his own hair salon rather appealed to him. Draco, a spark of what might have been entrepreneurship (and then again might have been something far more devious) in his eyes, declared that he would go too. Goat-Girl, Draco, and Dragon-buddy had a whispered conference a short distance away from the others, during which the phrases “claw-polish market” and “huge amounts of money” could be discerned. There was a complicated triple handshake involving spitting patterns in the sand and blasting them with dragon fire before the three re-joined the group.
Goat-Girl turned to Mr. Wiggle and his two faithful companions. “What will the three of you do, now that we’ve saved the world from the twin evils of Voldemort and this particular Rubik’s Cube of Doom?”
Mr. Wiggle beamed, albeit rather composedly (he was, after all, an Esquire, Count of the Starry Down: Gentleman). “I shall remain here for a time – Mr. Malfoy’s findings, in addition to my own team’s work on the wreck, are most promising. You might like to join us, if you’ve an interest in nautical archaeology.”
Goat-Girl said something incoherent that the Gentleman correctly interpreted as, “Why, certainly, I should very much like to investigate this jolly interesting late-Archaic-period shipwreck, thank you kindly!”
And so these companions of many dangers and adventures parted, and went to their separate destinies. (Even the chipmunks claimed to have some urgent business off in Majorca. They climbed into their gliders and were soon lost to sight. The squirrels produced some colorful brochures and muttered something about Majorca as well, and then disappeared in pursuit of the chipmunks.)
Goat-Girl, Mr. Wiggle, Phips, and Lady Peabody stood on the beach waving madly (or, in Lady Peabody’s case, staring regally) as Harry and Draco climbed onto the dragon’s back. (Dragon-buddy, initially reluctant to serve as transport a second time, had taken one look at Draco’s hair and ceased protesting.) They took off in a magnificent swirl of sand that left the onlookers blinking furiously.
Far above the sandy chaos, Harry, Draco and Dragon-Buddy soared up into the sky. Just before they were out of hearing range, the assembled group heard snippets of an unlikely conversation. Harry was saying, “That’s really what you want out of life? Cash?” And as they faded from hearing range altogether, their outlines blurred together across the sun, Draco replied, “What do you think?”
Harry and Draco soared off on the back of the golden dragon in to a spectacular Mediterranean sunset.
The others went about on their nautical archaeology business, whatever that may have involved, and proceeded to have lots of other interesting adventures which will be related in due time.
* * *
An old man trudged along the beach where they had camped, fought an epic battle, and celebrated their victory. He stared at the sand and the rocks and the ocean, the scene now empty and just beginning to darken in the twilight.
“Never underestimate a goat,” he said to no one in particular, and kept walking.
The End.
Previously on GG&HTOTW...E,SI, Part 4
The chipmunks had landed their gliders on the rocks, Rubik’s Cube of Doom in tow, and half of them were now doing a victory dance around the fire. The other half were busy assembling what looked like a miniature catapult. (This was in fact precisely what it was. As they explained to the travelers, the chipmunks had captured the Rubik’s Cube of Doom and were intending to use it as their Ultimate Weapon in the Final Last-Ever Big Epic Battle against the squirrels, who were due any minute now, and could they please move three inches to the left?)
They obligingly moved three inches to the left. The chipmunks resumed calculating flight trajectories and muttering about angular momentum.
At that moment, an old man strolled toward them. He was very old, clothed in what once might have been a tent, and he had dirty toenails. He was also muttering to himself. Sighting the travelers brought a light to his old eyes, and he raised his head to address them.
“Goats! Fascinating creatures, they are, goats. Never underestimate a goat!”
There was a general shrug and exchange of “What’s this old codger on about?”-type looks. The chipmunks stopped dancing to listen. What followed was not so much a scintillating conversation as a one-sided lecture on goat-keeping and the finer points of goat psychology. Having said his piece, the old man moved on down the beach and disappeared, whistling.
Harry shrugged. “That was weird.”
“I already know plenty about goat psychology, anyway.” This was from Goat-Girl.
“I concur. Nonetheless, the knowledge may come in useful some day.” The Gentleman had taken the occasional note, and was now perusing them with a sharp and shrewd eye. “I am curious, however, as to why he chose to enlighten us.”
Goat-Girl shrugged too. “Maybe he liked my jacket.”
There were more general shrugs all round. The chipmunks resumed their dance.
Previously onGG&HTOTW...E,SI, Part 5
Goat-Girl’s - ah - creative vocabulary was apparently not limited to exclamations of surprise. Lord Voldemort eventually tired of her tirade, turned his attention to Harry, and launched into a long speech about the benefits of joining the Dark Side.
Previously on GG&HTOTW...E,SI, Part 6
Harry hurled the scissors at Voldemort, which struck him in the forehead. Voldemort flew backward a few paces and began to fizzle gently. Mr. Wiggle tossed his ubiquitous purple yo-yo, which further incapacitated the Dark Lord, and the squirrels and chipmunks set off their Rubik’s Cube of Doom-catapult with deadly aim. The result was a charred and unrecognizable twist of metal, a purple blob of plastic, and a spectacular multicolored fireworks display which expanded across the entire sky. The lights were so beautiful that nobody minded being uncerimoniously thrown to the ground by the explosion. They picked themselves off the ground and one another (some more quickly than others) and stood dazedly staring at the remains of Lord Voldemort, which were gleefully sparkling across the sky in a manner which suggested that they rather preferred this form of existence.
Ron and Hermione had recovered from their stupor and sat up, staring about. “Oh, Harry! Where’s V-Voldemort?”
“Blimey, mate, you look terrible. And what’s he –“ here Ron pointed to Draco – “still doing here?” The rest of the Death Eaters had Disapparated in an effort to avoid the falling sparks, which were oddly pink in color. Goat-Girl watched the darting pink lights flare and wink out with something like regret.
“Perhaps I’d better explain,” said the unflappable Mr. Wiggle, who proceeded to do so with clarity, detail, and a certain amount of flair.
Lady Peabody added an emphatic “Mrow!” in especially dramatic parts.
Phips calmly produced tea for everyone from the hamper.
PART VII. Epilogue. In which the Truth About Goat-Girl is finally revealed, a murex fisherman is useful, and The End happens.
Later, the party realized that they couldn’t simply lie around on a beach sipping tea and admiring ex-Dark-Lord-fireworks forever. So they began, in addition to lying about on a beach sipping tea and admiring ex-Dark-Lord-fireworks, to make a few Cunning Plans. First of all, a few questions had to be answered. Harry, Ron, and Hermione (and, no doubt, Mr. Wiggle, Phips, Lady Peabody, Draco Malfoy, and the assorted rodent armies) were curious as to how Goat-Girl knew so much about the wizarding world and Lord Voldemort while displaying no signs of magic whatsoever. She regretfully turned off the boombox, which had survived water, fire, mortal peril, and altitude sickness, and composed herself.
“Have you ever heard of a man called Aberforth Dumbledore?”
Ron nodded swiftly. “Oh yeah, wasn’t he – uh, help me out, Harry –“
“Prosecuted for practicing inappropriate charms on a goat.”
Harry and Ron paused for a moment to admire Hermione’s memory.
“That wasn’t…”
“Yes, it was.”
“You?!”
“Yup. “
“So you’re really a … goat?”
“No, I’m actually a human. I got caught in the crossfire of several Dark spells during one of Voldemort’s training sessions, and was accidentally turned into a goat by some really incompetent Death Eaters. My wand was also transformed. Great-Uncle Aberforth was trying to turn me back into a girl, but turning animals into humans is strictly frowned upon, and the Ministry caught him at it. So Great-Uncle Albus had to finish the job instead, and he sent me to university in the States. He couldn’t change my wand back, though, so I kept it as it was.”
“So you’re a witch?”
“Technically, not any more. My powers…my powers were well hidden. Very well hidden. They were no longer a part of me, but I carried them with me wherever I went.”
“How…?”
“My wand. It served as a vessel for all that remained of my magic, a symbol of what I had been and what I had lost.”
“The jacket?”
“What? Oh. No, I just liked it. Being a goat left rather an impression on me.”
Hermione gasped. “Then…”
They exchanged a frizzy-haired look, and after a moment, Goat-Girl nodded.
“The pink Fiskars safety scissors?!”
“Yes. Only they, combined with the dread mind-stealing power of a Rubick’s Cube of Doom and somebody’s Quidditch-honed really good aim, could ultimately defeat Lord Voldemort.”
They all stared, awestruck, at the twist of metal that had once been the pink Fiskars safety scissors.
“What about the purple yo-yo, then?” Harry still wasn’t sure how Mr. Wiggle’s communication device, now a purple blob lying uselessly next to him, fit into all this.
The Gentleman himself was happy to provide an answer. “Simple diversionary tactics, my young friends. It was vital that he not anticipate the fatal blow of the Rubik’s Cube of Doom. Had he been able to dodge, the results would have been disastrous for the island, us, and most of the known universe.”
“And you. How do you know all this stuff?” Goat-Girl, it seemed, had a few questions of her own.
“Well. I can’t tell you everything, of course…” Mr. Wiggle paused and surveyed the faces of his companions. “However, you should know by now that I am, in fact, the world’s leading expert on the Rubik’s Cubes of Doom. I once disarmed one by solving it in record time, and that has not been my only experience with the devices.”
“Wait, you mean there are more of those things out there?” Hermione gestured wildly in a vague direction indicating “the rest of the known universe”.
“Oh yes.”
Everybody stared for a moment, shivered, and went back to toasting the marshmallows Phips had produced from the hamper’s inexhaustible interior.
* * *
At last the fire died, an early-evening zephyr swept over the beach, and it was time to say good-bye.
Hermione and Ron waved down a murex fisherman and bribed him to take them to the Peloponnese. There were no doubt a few interesting interludes, but they made it safely back and embarked on other adventures of their own in remote and exotic locations.
Harry decided to return to England. His dream was to become a hairstylist, after all, and while he hadn’t thought much of Voldemort’s Franchise of Evil scheme, the idea of his own hair salon rather appealed to him. Draco, a spark of what might have been entrepreneurship (and then again might have been something far more devious) in his eyes, declared that he would go too. Goat-Girl, Draco, and Dragon-buddy had a whispered conference a short distance away from the others, during which the phrases “claw-polish market” and “huge amounts of money” could be discerned. There was a complicated triple handshake involving spitting patterns in the sand and blasting them with dragon fire before the three re-joined the group.
Goat-Girl turned to Mr. Wiggle and his two faithful companions. “What will the three of you do, now that we’ve saved the world from the twin evils of Voldemort and this particular Rubik’s Cube of Doom?”
Mr. Wiggle beamed, albeit rather composedly (he was, after all, an Esquire, Count of the Starry Down: Gentleman). “I shall remain here for a time – Mr. Malfoy’s findings, in addition to my own team’s work on the wreck, are most promising. You might like to join us, if you’ve an interest in nautical archaeology.”
Goat-Girl said something incoherent that the Gentleman correctly interpreted as, “Why, certainly, I should very much like to investigate this jolly interesting late-Archaic-period shipwreck, thank you kindly!”
And so these companions of many dangers and adventures parted, and went to their separate destinies. (Even the chipmunks claimed to have some urgent business off in Majorca. They climbed into their gliders and were soon lost to sight. The squirrels produced some colorful brochures and muttered something about Majorca as well, and then disappeared in pursuit of the chipmunks.)
Goat-Girl, Mr. Wiggle, Phips, and Lady Peabody stood on the beach waving madly (or, in Lady Peabody’s case, staring regally) as Harry and Draco climbed onto the dragon’s back. (Dragon-buddy, initially reluctant to serve as transport a second time, had taken one look at Draco’s hair and ceased protesting.) They took off in a magnificent swirl of sand that left the onlookers blinking furiously.
Far above the sandy chaos, Harry, Draco and Dragon-Buddy soared up into the sky. Just before they were out of hearing range, the assembled group heard snippets of an unlikely conversation. Harry was saying, “That’s really what you want out of life? Cash?” And as they faded from hearing range altogether, their outlines blurred together across the sun, Draco replied, “What do you think?”
Harry and Draco soared off on the back of the golden dragon in to a spectacular Mediterranean sunset.
The others went about on their nautical archaeology business, whatever that may have involved, and proceeded to have lots of other interesting adventures which will be related in due time.
* * *
An old man trudged along the beach where they had camped, fought an epic battle, and celebrated their victory. He stared at the sand and the rocks and the ocean, the scene now empty and just beginning to darken in the twilight.
“Never underestimate a goat,” he said to no one in particular, and kept walking.
The End.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-08-21 07:52 pm (UTC)Whee! I loved it all so very much! I cannot even express my joy. :D :D :D
no subject
Date: 2004-08-21 08:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-23 12:43 pm (UTC)*prostrates self on ground*
Date: 2004-08-23 06:46 pm (UTC)*speechless*
unfortunately, it's composed entirely of inside jokes, so i'm not sure if people outside you, i, rachel, allie, and melanie and perhaps a few others would be able to appreciate it, but...i bet it works even if you don't get the inside jokes. like reading shakespeare even if you don't get all the contemporaneous references he uses. still awesome, but even better, if that could be possible, when you get all the extra stuff.
and i guess i'd better keep an eye on my rubik's cube of doom...maybe that's what's responsible for my cell phone charger, which i was so sure was packed in that box, somehow returning to its previous position on the floor of my room, so that i am at mystic and cannot call anyone, except for my mom to tell her to send it to me pronto.
speaking of which - i'm at mystic! and rachel, if you read this, my shoes are somewhere at your house. or in your uncle's car. cause they're not at mine. but you're in ireland, so you can't do anything about that. i'll call your mom sometime (after i charge my phone. grrr.) and discuss this matter. in any case, i am at mystic, and it is cool. the people are nice...there are plans to all get together and hang out...around nowish, actually, i guess, so i should make this short. unfortunately, the main plan for the evening is to all be in the same place as a bunch of alcohol, most likely of the yeasty sort (*bleh*) and not of the grapey sort, so i might leave pretty quickly anyway. i'm also feeling sort of beat since i've been running around and loading and unloading and unpacking and taking a steamboat ride and meeting people since 7:30 this morning. anyway, it's nice here, i have a single, it doesn't have a bookcase (!) but it does have a nice window and a nice view and a comfortable mattress, and the house is over a hundred years old and my housemates, though they seem sort of dull, are musical - abby from williams, who plays the piano and does voice and knows my friend emily bonem from kinhaven who also goes to williams so that's cool, and chris from wheton (whedon? that college that sounds like that...) who plays the trumpet but now is completely obsessed with the drums, and has set up a drumset in the garage and has been practicing. a lot. but he said he'll teach me if i want, so i guess it's ok. and he lives in southwest harbor, maine, directly next door to the motel unit my family stayed in for two weeks every summer since i was 7 till i was 17. so that's cool. anyway, i gotta go, more updates later, i miss you guys! i wish i were on my way back to school and we could all have fun together in normal ways, like fooling around on the fiddle or watching buffy episodes on a flatscreen computer or making a fire and telling each other very abridged versions of folk and fairy tales :( instead i have to go try and have fun with people drinking beer. and i repeat, bleh. but i'll be nice and try to be friendly and unboring.
Re: *prostrates self on ground*
Date: 2004-08-23 08:17 pm (UTC)You're at Mystic! *squees* I bet you're having a fantastic time, even sans grape-type alcohol. You must learn to play the drums, and then you can teach me. The comfortable mattress is also a plus.
I miss you all so much!
Re: *prostrates self on ground*
Date: 2004-08-24 11:35 am (UTC)anywho, siena, am very glad that you're liking it at mystic. can't believe you're there already! if you have your address, please let us know, because address = letters = perhaps (drum roll please)...PACKAGES!!!!!!!
sorry to hear that the alcohol is of the non-grape variety. don't know if you heard, but my house at woods hole was the "party house" (kinda ironic that i was put there) & every weekend starting thursday & sometimes wednesday night was party night, also of the non-grape alcohol variety, but they took care of me, so it was alright. so i'm quite sure that you will be just fine.
be sure to keep track of all & any sea shanties that you might learn so that we can keep the list going!
-melanie
Re: *prostrates self on ground*
Date: 2004-08-24 02:27 pm (UTC)I adore letters. I shall send you one in a couple of weeks. That goes for you too, Siena. Once I find it.