Harry Potter, the Trophy Concubine Who Lived, staggered out of the Dark
Lord's chamber covered in ichor. The sound of a rather wet explosion
had brought several key minions of Voldemort running.
Remus
Lupin, Lapwerewolf to the Throne, was first on the scene, and caught
Harry just before he tumbled to the ground, barely even thinking about
how these stains were never going to come out of his leather trousers.
Good thing he wasn't wearing a shirt.
"Harry, what's happened?" he demanded, shaking the boy's shoulders.
Harry was wearing a dazed expression.
"I have no idea," he murmured, eyes glassy. "He was putting on the
lube, and he murmured the usual sensory enhancement charm, and
then…BLAM!" Harry fluttered a hand helplessly.
"Blam?"
Severus Snape, Official Brewer of Lubricant and Other Necessaries,
appeared at Remus' shoulder, cape snapping dramatically. Glancing back
at it in irritation, Snape barked a
Finite Incantatum to end
the Dramatic Wind Charm Voldemort insisted on having blowing down the
corridor at all times. "Now, what's all this about the Dark Lord going
blam?"
"Lube," Harry offered weakly, raising a hand to his brow and smearing
the ichor around. "Charm…blam."
"
Blam?"
Lucius Malfoy, Head Minion and Nefarious Activities Coordinator, came
pelting down the hall. After a horrified look at Harry, Lucius threw
open the chamber door and shrieked. "My Lord!"
"Excellent!" Snape's eyes glittered in triumph. "My latest lubricant
was a complete success!"
"You did this, Severus?" Remus asked. Harry gave a weak moan, and Remus
patted his back soothingly. Really, these trousers were so ruined.
"I brewed it specifically for the Dark Lord," Snape announced. "Merlin
knows I agree with him about the Mudbloods, but he was slashing my
ingredients budget. Something had to be done."
"But I don't understand." Harry gave a watery hiccup. "You gave that
tube to him last week!"
"The ingredients are extremely volatile," Snape informed them. "They
can only be mixed in tiny amounts, reducing the chance of a successful
combustion. Still, when combined with the charm that our Lord
preferred, the lubricant had a thousand-to-one chance of igniting."
"A thousand to one!" Lucius wailed. "There's no way he could beat those
odds!"
The End [blam]