(no subject)
Gilderoy had been on the island for going on two months. There were several things of which he was now certain. Firstly, the island was in dire need of proper spa facilities. It was such a shame that they had such an ample supply of first class spa ingredients: proper mud, avocados, endless varieties of fruit. Yet no one who was actually running that business. In the back of his mind, Gilderoy entertained the idea that he might start one up as a hobby.
The second thing he knew was that magic didn't work the way it ought to work here. Actually fact two and three were connected. Fact three was that the island, specifically the basement suite he shared with three other men, two dogs and a chicken, was completely and hopelessly infested by invisible pixies or invisible gremlins. Being as they were invisible, he wasn't sure which species. It would seem, however, that the only magic that worked was the magic of the invisible gremlins and/or pixies. It was completely unfair, not to mention astronomically unlikely (and unfavorable) that the invisible gremlins and pixies would have had the intelligence to work together to create some sort of magic barrier that canceled the magic of everything else on the island. And yet they had. These were no ordinary creatures. These were very intelligent creatures.
They also had it out for him. For privacy, he'd had to fashion make-shift bed curtains. Apparently the island's invisible gremlins/pixies took great offense to all of Gilderoy's color choices. Often he would return to his bed to find the curtains pulled down, sometimes even burned. Additionally the pixie-gremlins had managed to pull a vampire through reality to this island just waiting for him to arrive. And when he had, they had made sure that Gilderoy would have to sleep next to it--him--Asher. If only magic worked so he could cure the man of his illness as he had done in his book, Voyages with Vampires.
Gilderoy was now faced with a real dilemna. Thanks to the gremlin-pixies, his life blood was gone. What use was a magical malady mender without his magic? Putting pixies in their place was impossible without a working wand. Giving gremlins a taste of their own grimace -inducing medicine was a laughable endeavor. And he certainly couldn't best any beasties or battle any banshees in his present predicament.
Such was Gilderoy's current connundrum. It wouldn't do to be jobless, despite the fact that he had been, in face, jobless for the past two months. He regarded that time as holiday. Perhaps he could take up teaching again. Or perhaps he should just return to his old job. He was looking over the gremlin enchanted bookshelf, looking for a guide to flowers. Hopefully a guide specific to Tabula Rosa, the Rose Slate as he called it, so he could see what varieties he could find. (He liked to place flowers on his bed to get rid of the horrible basement smell that all basements tended to have. The pixies didn't take kindly to his flowers either, but he wasn't about to succumb to gremlin tastes.) As he scanned over the book covers, his fingers touched on a familair title: Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to Household Pests.
"AHA!" he shouted, triumphantly. "Not so intelligent as you'd like us to believe," he continued, talking to the invisible pixie-gremlins. In their confidence, they'd accidentally given him the key to their demise.
The second thing he knew was that magic didn't work the way it ought to work here. Actually fact two and three were connected. Fact three was that the island, specifically the basement suite he shared with three other men, two dogs and a chicken, was completely and hopelessly infested by invisible pixies or invisible gremlins. Being as they were invisible, he wasn't sure which species. It would seem, however, that the only magic that worked was the magic of the invisible gremlins and/or pixies. It was completely unfair, not to mention astronomically unlikely (and unfavorable) that the invisible gremlins and pixies would have had the intelligence to work together to create some sort of magic barrier that canceled the magic of everything else on the island. And yet they had. These were no ordinary creatures. These were very intelligent creatures.
They also had it out for him. For privacy, he'd had to fashion make-shift bed curtains. Apparently the island's invisible gremlins/pixies took great offense to all of Gilderoy's color choices. Often he would return to his bed to find the curtains pulled down, sometimes even burned. Additionally the pixie-gremlins had managed to pull a vampire through reality to this island just waiting for him to arrive. And when he had, they had made sure that Gilderoy would have to sleep next to it--him--Asher. If only magic worked so he could cure the man of his illness as he had done in his book, Voyages with Vampires.
Gilderoy was now faced with a real dilemna. Thanks to the gremlin-pixies, his life blood was gone. What use was a magical malady mender without his magic? Putting pixies in their place was impossible without a working wand. Giving gremlins a taste of their own grimace -inducing medicine was a laughable endeavor. And he certainly couldn't best any beasties or battle any banshees in his present predicament.
Such was Gilderoy's current connundrum. It wouldn't do to be jobless, despite the fact that he had been, in face, jobless for the past two months. He regarded that time as holiday. Perhaps he could take up teaching again. Or perhaps he should just return to his old job. He was looking over the gremlin enchanted bookshelf, looking for a guide to flowers. Hopefully a guide specific to Tabula Rosa, the Rose Slate as he called it, so he could see what varieties he could find. (He liked to place flowers on his bed to get rid of the horrible basement smell that all basements tended to have. The pixies didn't take kindly to his flowers either, but he wasn't about to succumb to gremlin tastes.) As he scanned over the book covers, his fingers touched on a familair title: Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to Household Pests.
"AHA!" he shouted, triumphantly. "Not so intelligent as you'd like us to believe," he continued, talking to the invisible pixie-gremlins. In their confidence, they'd accidentally given him the key to their demise.