Chapter 4: Professor Nicebottom, The Easily Forgettable Spellcasting Language Filter And The Awkward Audience With Drew Dumbledore & Madame Pepe
Friday dawned bright and clear. Professor Drew Dumbledore sat at his computer pondering the intricacies of his latest draft of the Minutes for the Ministry's Bored Meeting. Madame Pepe, the Team Witch, Wizard, Elfish Resourcing Personage, had just returned from a most insightful meeting with Broomstixs R-US and was settling at her computer ready to regale the staff of Hogfarts with unwanted details of the latest discounts.
Suddenly, the peaceful atmosphere of the office was shattered with loud shrieks of "FUCKWIT!!!!!"
Drew Dumbledore immediately fell off his chair and landed in a pile of buff coloured files which began to attack him. Madame Pepe screamed and promptly fainted. The Smugger shot off to the kitchen for a large glass of cold water, lobbed the lot over her and resumed its loud, relentless, offensive cries.
Drew Dumbledore happened to be wearing his spectacles, having given up attempting to get on with lensus contacticus (or more accurately, trying not to rub them out of his eyes when yawning - yawning being something of an occupational hazard when drafting Bored Minutes). Through the flurry of battering screeching files he thought he could just about make out four familiar faces (albeit flickering behind a dazzling array of obscene hand gestures). "SuperTed?" wondered Drew Dumbledore helplessly before Professor McGonagle banished the Smugger with a sharp crack of her wand.
Three hours, one awkward interview, seven rants, five door-slammings and four cups of tea later, Professor Nicebottom had just about calmed down enough to make it to the pie shop for lunch with Professors Chav and Google and Harry. "I can't f*cking believe it!" he raved, in a very un-SuperTed-like manner. "Exactly how am I supposed to know that Smuggers would be caught up in the f*cking Spellcasting f*cking Language f*cking Filter and sent straight to Drew Dumbledore and Madame f*cking Pepe instead of to Marcus Floppynob? And as for those f*cking broomsticks - Harry, I don't mind telling you that I almost told Madame Pepe where to shove them. And why, WHY hasn't anyone f*cking well told f*cking Madame Misery and Daffyd Wellllthatsnothowitworkssee about Smuggers? How am I supposed to do my job properly when I'm surrounded by f*cking idiots?"
Professor Google, fearing for young Harry's innocence and knowing that the Pie Serving Elves are of a generally sensitive disposition, quickly cast a Memory Modification Spell followed by an Obscentity Substitution Spell on Harry and the Elves and smiled as a flurry of flumps, flumping, flumpers, flump-me's and wonkers issued forth in between mouthfuls of pie.
Suddenly, the peaceful atmosphere of the office was shattered with loud shrieks of "FUCKWIT!!!!!"
Drew Dumbledore immediately fell off his chair and landed in a pile of buff coloured files which began to attack him. Madame Pepe screamed and promptly fainted. The Smugger shot off to the kitchen for a large glass of cold water, lobbed the lot over her and resumed its loud, relentless, offensive cries.
Drew Dumbledore happened to be wearing his spectacles, having given up attempting to get on with lensus contacticus (or more accurately, trying not to rub them out of his eyes when yawning - yawning being something of an occupational hazard when drafting Bored Minutes). Through the flurry of battering screeching files he thought he could just about make out four familiar faces (albeit flickering behind a dazzling array of obscene hand gestures). "SuperTed?" wondered Drew Dumbledore helplessly before Professor McGonagle banished the Smugger with a sharp crack of her wand.
Three hours, one awkward interview, seven rants, five door-slammings and four cups of tea later, Professor Nicebottom had just about calmed down enough to make it to the pie shop for lunch with Professors Chav and Google and Harry. "I can't f*cking believe it!" he raved, in a very un-SuperTed-like manner. "Exactly how am I supposed to know that Smuggers would be caught up in the f*cking Spellcasting f*cking Language f*cking Filter and sent straight to Drew Dumbledore and Madame f*cking Pepe instead of to Marcus Floppynob? And as for those f*cking broomsticks - Harry, I don't mind telling you that I almost told Madame Pepe where to shove them. And why, WHY hasn't anyone f*cking well told f*cking Madame Misery and Daffyd Wellllthatsnothowitworkssee about Smuggers? How am I supposed to do my job properly when I'm surrounded by f*cking idiots?"
Professor Google, fearing for young Harry's innocence and knowing that the Pie Serving Elves are of a generally sensitive disposition, quickly cast a Memory Modification Spell followed by an Obscentity Substitution Spell on Harry and the Elves and smiled as a flurry of flumps, flumping, flumpers, flump-me's and wonkers issued forth in between mouthfuls of pie.
posted by Professor Google at 11:14 popiet
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