FICLET: The Deathly Horlicks. Fandom: HP.
Jul. 26th, 2007 06:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lobelia321FICLET: The Deathly Horlicks
AUTHOR: Me.![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lobelia321
CANON: Wot i have gleaned from Friends' posted spoilers.
PAIRING: Guess! Yes! You guessedwrong right!
Read Me, said the label, and Dudley dimly remembered having come across such a label before. Didn't it have something to do with eating, drinking, shrinking, growing, falling through a looking-glass?
He uncorked the bottle and sniffed at it. Lime-green fumes poured out of the top and curled towards the ceiling. They smelled of public loos. There was nothing here to read.
He peered into the neck of the bottle. He stuck his tongue into the neck of the bottle. He shook the thing (nothing happened). He smashed the thing on the wall of the dungeon. It burst into eight hundred and thirty-two pieces.
Now you might well ask: how could Dudley know it burst into eight hundred and thirty-two pieces exactly? Well, I will tell you. He knew this because he was all alone, utterly bored, quite frightened, and shackled to the moss-covered walls of a dank underground prison. The bottle had been rolled across the floor by a bunch of rats, clink-clinking along on the slimy flagstones. Dudley had screamed because he was scared of rats. The rats had scuttled, the bottle had hit Dudley's foot, and that was that.
Dudley had all the time in the world -- well, not all the time but it only took him one-and-a-half hours, all told -- to count the shards strewn all around.
He then busied himself putting them all back together. The faint glow from a globular lamp hovering in the corner of the cell illuminated the puzzle.
After 90 minutes (he knew this from the digital display on his Rolex-GTI), the bottle was complete.
But Dudley had assembled it inside-out. And inside-out, it looked very different from outside-in. Inside-out, the bottle was covered in writing.
"Read me", breathed Dudley. And he did.
Whosoever findeth this bottulle will have limitlesse potation available for all dayes. All that thou must do is to recite the hallow spelle inscribed hereon and crye out loude the name of the beverage of thine choyce.
"Cool," said Dudley. For he was quite thirsty.
He recited the hallow spell inscribed thereon, and he cried out loud the name of the beverage of his choice: "HORLICKS!"
And wham! The bottle, outside-in as it was, its eight hundred and thirty-two pieces held together only by sheer gravity, filled at once with the delicous, warm malted drink beloved to all true-blue, dyed-in-the-salt Englishmen.
"Yum!" said Dudley and drank it all up.
Then nothing happened for about five hours until the walls caved in, demons screeched to the rescue, fire rent the heavens, and all that.
In the final apocalypse, Dudley managed to save his precious bottle. Indeed, he made numerous friends among the demons, passing round swigs from the bottomless bottle of comfort-drink, plus he discovered that dousing the Vicious Vile Vamps with the homely brew caused instant vampstinction. Which came in handy.
After the sun had set in the East and the wind blew desolate chewing gum wrappers across the ruins of the charred landscape, Dudley crawled out from under the wings of the Booblydove and saw a familiar silhouette striding across the plain.
"Draco!" he cried.
"Hey, Dudeley-Dude. I see you haven't lost your bottle, then?"
"Nah," said Dudley. And smiled.
And nobody died happily ever after.
THE END
26 July 2007
A/N: I couldn't resist. I never can resist the siren call of the non-canon-knowledge ficlet. There should be an acronym for it. Nothing is quite as heady, except for World Cup rps. ;-)
AUTHOR: Me.
lobelia321CANON: Wot i have gleaned from Friends' posted spoilers.
PAIRING: Guess! Yes! You guessed
Read Me, said the label, and Dudley dimly remembered having come across such a label before. Didn't it have something to do with eating, drinking, shrinking, growing, falling through a looking-glass?
He uncorked the bottle and sniffed at it. Lime-green fumes poured out of the top and curled towards the ceiling. They smelled of public loos. There was nothing here to read.
He peered into the neck of the bottle. He stuck his tongue into the neck of the bottle. He shook the thing (nothing happened). He smashed the thing on the wall of the dungeon. It burst into eight hundred and thirty-two pieces.
Now you might well ask: how could Dudley know it burst into eight hundred and thirty-two pieces exactly? Well, I will tell you. He knew this because he was all alone, utterly bored, quite frightened, and shackled to the moss-covered walls of a dank underground prison. The bottle had been rolled across the floor by a bunch of rats, clink-clinking along on the slimy flagstones. Dudley had screamed because he was scared of rats. The rats had scuttled, the bottle had hit Dudley's foot, and that was that.
Dudley had all the time in the world -- well, not all the time but it only took him one-and-a-half hours, all told -- to count the shards strewn all around.
He then busied himself putting them all back together. The faint glow from a globular lamp hovering in the corner of the cell illuminated the puzzle.
After 90 minutes (he knew this from the digital display on his Rolex-GTI), the bottle was complete.
But Dudley had assembled it inside-out. And inside-out, it looked very different from outside-in. Inside-out, the bottle was covered in writing.
"Read me", breathed Dudley. And he did.
Whosoever findeth this bottulle will have limitlesse potation available for all dayes. All that thou must do is to recite the hallow spelle inscribed hereon and crye out loude the name of the beverage of thine choyce.
"Cool," said Dudley. For he was quite thirsty.
He recited the hallow spell inscribed thereon, and he cried out loud the name of the beverage of his choice: "HORLICKS!"
And wham! The bottle, outside-in as it was, its eight hundred and thirty-two pieces held together only by sheer gravity, filled at once with the delicous, warm malted drink beloved to all true-blue, dyed-in-the-salt Englishmen.
"Yum!" said Dudley and drank it all up.
Then nothing happened for about five hours until the walls caved in, demons screeched to the rescue, fire rent the heavens, and all that.
In the final apocalypse, Dudley managed to save his precious bottle. Indeed, he made numerous friends among the demons, passing round swigs from the bottomless bottle of comfort-drink, plus he discovered that dousing the Vicious Vile Vamps with the homely brew caused instant vampstinction. Which came in handy.
After the sun had set in the East and the wind blew desolate chewing gum wrappers across the ruins of the charred landscape, Dudley crawled out from under the wings of the Booblydove and saw a familiar silhouette striding across the plain.
"Draco!" he cried.
"Hey, Dudeley-Dude. I see you haven't lost your bottle, then?"
"Nah," said Dudley. And smiled.
And nobody died happily ever after.
THE END
26 July 2007
A/N: I couldn't resist. I never can resist the siren call of the non-canon-knowledge ficlet. There should be an acronym for it. Nothing is quite as heady, except for World Cup rps. ;-)
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-27 03:30 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-29 10:33 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-27 04:49 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-29 10:32 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-27 07:37 am (UTC)(PS: Hope all is going well)
(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-29 10:32 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-29 08:05 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-30 10:56 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-31 02:58 am (UTC)I'm surprised that slash has not yet been written; Dudley practically throws himself at Harry! ;-)
(no subject)
Date: 2007-08-13 06:49 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-02-28 10:54 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-02-29 10:40 pm (UTC)