The Quibbler

Magical Musings since 1943
Issue DLXXXIII, June 1996

Sirius Black Memorial Edition
Rita Skeeter, guest editrix

 

Under a whomping willow tree
A dog-day of temerity.
Long enmity from folly sprung
And dogbane bitter on the tongue
As irony: I write this clothed
In robes the black of him I loathed.

(A daunting task, to eulogise
A man with so much to despise –
To list my thoughts I would not stint
But very few are fit to print.
Unlike many of my pupils
Even tabloids have some scruples.)

--Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts and near-contemporary of the deceased

Goodbye to Stubby

I just had to say my own, very personal, farewell, to Stubby Boardman, or Tubby Stubbs as I used to know him. I know most people will remember him as the genius who gave the world 'Manticore Rag', 'The Shadow of Your Wand' and "I'm Ironing My Robes Tonight', but to me he was the man who showed the things that a witch ain't s'posed to see.

Never will I forget that evening in Little Norton. Nor the ones in Middle Wallop, Jack's Bush, Nether Wallop, and Happy Bottom.

To my dearest Tubbs. Your turnip will rest on my pillow forever.

Goodbye from your loving Dizzy Dopps.

Doris Purkiss
18 Achanthia Way
Little Norton.

Viviane Chance Remembers

Break out the horsemeat, Dogboy is getting his very own Memorial Edition of the Quibbler. Or so they told me, when I was asked to write about my memories of the dear departed. My memories of Sirius Black? Although my acquaintance with him was mercifully brief, I do have some reminiscences.

Mostly, I remember Black had a unique talent for escalation. Think of any terrible situation. He could be counted upon to make it far worse. Take, for example, the time he and Remus got drunk in Hogsmeade and Sirius, as Padfoot, urinated on Rosmerta’s leg, thinking it was a birch tree. Or the time he decided to lock me, the only levelheaded person around, in a closet during an emergency, leaving himself to be turned into a pile of decaying macaroni. And that incident in Malfoy’s basement, when he revealed he considered Dark objects the equivalent of Legos and nearly killed himself by playing with a self-choking glove.

He was a blazingly stupid man. He was lucky that he was handsome, or he’d have *never* been able to use that dainty equipment of his. How do I know about his equipment? I slept with him, of course. As an Original Female Character, it is my duty to sleep with every canon male character and, as you know, I am all about duty. Now that I’ve worked my way through the men, I’m eyeing some of the women. That Rosmerta is very attractive, and McGonagall has such beautiful hands. I do have a yen for a good pair of hands.

Where was I? Oh yes, sex with Sirius Black. Uninspiring. How Remus puts up with such insipid thrustings from that minuscule manhood escapes me. Perhaps he shuts his eyes and thinks of Flitwick. I had to conjure up memories of a former, quite spectacular lover just to get through the experience without falling asleep.

Speaking of sex, Severus has turned up with a bottle of vintage Bordeaux and a pair of snakes, so I must go. He’s in a remarkably good mood tonight, is Severus. Coming, dear.

PDNN Headline News:
More News Than You Can Shake A Stick At!

This is Katie Couric reporting for Perky Dementor News Network, on the tragic death of the most beloved member of the wizarding world, Sirius "Too Sexy To Live" Black.

Among the many mourners at his memorial service were Fidelis, the cloyingly-cute magical talking, singing, and Death-Eater-biting dog, and Malheureuse, the talented and charming falcon belonging to the love of Sirius Black's life, Viviane "Sirius' Beeyotch" Chance, neé Deveraux, kneed Snape.

Let's listen in as Fidelis, with Malheureuse assisting, channels the voice of famous English tenor Peter Pears in a tribute to his sadly-missed friend:

(CLICK UNREALPLAYER OR MEDIA-SCHEMDIA PLAYER AUDIO/VIDEO LINKS)

My friend is dead! His time is passed.
He met a Big Bad and breathed his last.
His virtues many, his faults --
GOD DAMMIT! GET AWAY FROM ME!
-- were few,
No nobler dog-breathed man I knew.

His family tree he watered well,
If water was yellow, none can tell --
WILL SOMEBODY PLEASE SHOOT THAT FUCKING BIRD?!?!
-- Though master didn't like him much,
For dogs he had the softest touch.

"Surprised? I hardly think so. I don't what my great-great-grandson can have been thinking of. And as he was inconsiderate enough to die off sans offspring, I imagine I shall be spending the next 100 years picking dog hairs from my portrait myself. Witness the self-obessions of youth - no consideration for the future hygiene of their ancestors."

--Phineas Nigellus, former Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

"Damn shame I call it. Can I interest you in a very reasonably priced cauldron?"

--Mundungus Fletcher

PDNN Headline News:
STILL More News Than You Can Shake A Stick At!

This is Katie Couric reporting for Perky Dementor News Network, as part of our continuing live coverage of the memorial service for the most beloved member of the wizarding world, Sirius "Too Sexy To Live" Black.

The mourners are now crowding around the portraits of Sirius' late mother and great-great-great-great-great-great-great- <pauses to draw breath> great-great-great-great-grandfather, Phineas Whatshisname, as the two engage in a brief discussion of how they plan to welcome their beloved offspring into the hereafter. Let's listen in:

(CLICK UNREALPLAYER OR MEDIA-SCHEMDIA PLAYER AUDIO/VIDEO LINKS)

Mama Black: Boil him! Boil him in oil! Scandalous!

Phineas: I'm afraid that wouldn't do any good, my dear. He's been to Azkaban, remember. He'd only enjoy it.

Mama Black: Foul child, bringing his filthy mudblood halfbreed weirdo friends into MY HOUSE! Oh, the shame of it! The horror! The -- what the Sam Hill is that?!?

Phineas: It looks like your unhygenic son has crashed his own memorial service, cupcake.

Couric: Oh, look! Sirius Black's spirit has come to approach the gathering! Mr. Black! Mr. Black! Could I have a few words with -- EEEEEEEKKKKKKK!

Sirius: Quit your whinging, woman. It's only snot. Your skirt's seen worse, to judge from the quality of your makeup. Tell me, do you work the casinos in Vegas when you're not sucking the joy out of everyone around you?

Mama Black: So there you are, you filthy defiler of the Black name, you -- KEEP THAT SNOTTY FINGER AWAY FROM MY CANVAS! KEEP IT AWAY, I SAID!

Sirius: Do you promise to shut the fuck up, Mum?

Mama Black: <silence>

Sirius: Excellent. How about you, Multiple-Great-Asshole? Do you shut up as well, or do I have to give you the Couric treatment, too?

Phineas: <silence>

Sirius: Hey, I feel better already! Where's Viv? Let's fuck!

"I taught Sirius for seven, long, agonizing years. He was quite brilliant, but a pompous asshole if ever there was one. And what was worse, I was his Head of House. He would strut around Gryffindor tower naked. And believe me, his ego was far overinflated."

--Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Comment from the Village: Words of Remembrance from Napoleon Filch, Municipal Dog Warden of the Unitary Authority of Hogwarts and Hogsmeade

Black you say? Oh yes, I remember him. Him and his bleedin' friends, running around the place, making a mess. You think it's bad clearing up after a bleedin' dog, you should be around when there's a bleedin' stag and a wolf to deal with. No chance of a quick charm and a potty bag there. Not unless you've got a bag the size of a bleedin' hot air balloon.

My second cousin, him what's up at that school, keeps going on about them kids, but he's got them in one place hasn't he? He should try chasing them down over open countryside. Then we'd see what him and that bleedin' cat are made of. They'd never put up with it. Up the alleys, into the dustbins, nose in your personals, it's a bleedin' liberty I calls it. Kids turning into animals all over the place.

And just when you think you've bleedin' got rid of them they pops up again. I mean you should have seen what I found in that cave above the village. Looked like some bleedin' animal had been living there. All filthy and infested with fleas and who knows what else. It's a miracle I'm not in St. Mungo's right now in isolation and dying of some unknown bleedin' disease. I risk my life everyday on them streets and do I get any thanks for it? Don't make me bleedin' laugh.

The Ministry ought to do something about it; something to benefit decent hardworking folks what don't have posh jobs and what can't afford them plates with kittens on what you see in the magazines.

My aunt Lysergia's got a complete set of them plates - hers are Great Moments in Wizarding History Captured For All Time In Real Porcelain - very tasteful.

Anyway, I'm telling you that if I had my way the whole lot would have been up the pound and their nads would have been off before you could say 'bilateral orchidectomy'. Saved everyone a whole lot of bleedin' bother that would have.

Anything else you want to know? Right. Then bleedin' bugger off.

"I had to hex him once because he made that damn Uranus joke. I hate Uranus jokes!"

--Selene Sinistra, Hogwarts Astronomy Professor

Proprietress Reveals "the Sirius I Knew"

You'll find her behind the bar at the Three Broomsticks, faithfully doling out butterbeer to the students and, perhaps, something a bit stronger for the older crowd. The pub is an institution in Hogsmeade and for nearly thirty years it
has been synonymous with this woman, Madam Rosmerta Rodgers.

All that is about to change, owing to one man-one extraordinary man, she says.

"Things can never be the same here without Sirius," she confesses as she sits down at one of the well-polished tables that has hosted so many happy gatherings. "There is so much sadness now," she says with a sigh. "What is the point?"

Amazingly, Rosmerta refers to Sirius Black, convicted murderer, Dark Wizard and henchman for You-Know-Who. Or was he? As conflicting rumors begin to circulate, we sit down with one woman who may have the whole story-Madam Rosmerta.

TQ: Do you believe that Sirius Black is dead?

MR: (sniffling) Oh, please, don't ask me such a thing. It makes me cry.

TQ: Then tell us what you believe about it.

MR: I don't know what to believe. Dumbledore-Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster at Hogwarts-tells me it is true. Still I have heard rumors that he may not be.gone, not completely. There is no body. And yet, I grieve.

TQ: Why do you grieve, Rosmerta?

MR: Because.Sirius and I were lovers.

TQ: Sirius Black, the murderer of.?

MR: Don't say that! Sirius was a good man, an honorable man.

TQ: Rosmerta, tell us about the man you knew.

MR: It started the year before he left Hogwarts. I was younger then. Weren't we all? I had only taken over the pub from my father a few years before that. I so enjoyed seeing Sirius and James-James Potter-come in with their crowd. They always made me laugh!

Sirius made sure that he was the one to come to the bar to pick up their drinks and he would flirt with me. The boy was so bold! But always a gentleman. Then, one night, the year before he left Hogwarts, he came into the pub just before closing time. I asked him why he was there, because students weren't supposed
to be in Hogsmeade at that time. "I do a lot of things I'm not supposed to, Rosmerta," he told me. And that is the night it started.

TQ: Did you have any reservations about having a relationship with a student?

MR: At first, maybe. A little. But, as I said, I was young and he was hot. And at the time, it just seemed like a little flirtation, nothing serious. I suspected he had other . . . conquests, up at the castle. But he made me happy and I think I gave him something, too.

TQ: Did your relationship continue after Black left school?

MR: Oh, yes. We burned up the floos between here and London when he left. He was so gentle and kind. Sometimes he would pop up just to check on me. That is how I knew that he could not have been involved with You-Know-Who. He was just as concerned and confused as the rest of us. And he was hot.

TQ: You didn't think he supported You-Know-Who then?

MR: No, I know he didn't.

TQ: And he was never a murderer?

MR: No.

TQ: Were you in contact with Black before the events that he was convicted of-the horrible deaths of thirteen people and the betrayal of his best friend-took place?

MR: Sirius was never convicted.

TQ: Never?

MR: No. I've always believed he was framed.

TQ: But did you have contact with him before the events..?

MR: No, I didn't. But I was the first person he came to after he escaped Azkaban.

TQ: Really?

MR: He wasn't himself when he arrived. I found him in the garbage cans out back, rummaging through some old chip packets. His fur was all matted and his haunches were so thin.

TQ: Fur? Haunches?

MR: Sirius was an animagus.

TQ: I see.

MR: It was a long time before he would show himself to me. I would find him rummaging through the cans and I'd try to bring a nice meal out to him but he would run away. He was awfully skittish.

TQ: Did you have any reservations about not reporting him to the authorities?

MR: What, the dog catcher?

TQ: No, the Ministry! He was a wanted man.

MR: Yes, but I was confident in his innocence. I had the Minister of Magic in my pub that fall. I questioned him, trying to find out how much he knew about it all. I tried to throw him off the trail. That is how confident I was in Sirius' innocence.

TQ: You never worried that your confidence might have been misplaced?

MR: No.

TQ: Did you resume your relationship during that time?

MR: No. Sirius was a bit scruffy. I do have my standards. But I helped him all I could and when he returned to the area the following year, we were able to see each other again.

TQ: Was it like old times?

MR: Oh, no. How could it be? He was a changed man after Azkaban--so many years lost, so unfair. Of course, he was still hot. But we had such a short time together. And really, by that time, he was a little obsessed with Harry Potter.

TQ: THE Harry Potter?

MR: Do you know any others? I like the boy, I really do, but Sirius spent an awful lot of time worrying about Potter's problems when he should have been tending to his own.

TQ: Tell us more about Sirius and his relationship with Harry Potter.

MR: I'd really rather not.

TQ: Oh, pretty please?

MR: No.

TQ: So, how did you and your convict lover arrange your illicit liaisons?

MR: (glares) Sirius still used his dog form to get around the village that year. He would come to the back door of the pub and I would let him in. But when the tournament ended so badly-The TriWizard Tournament-he went away again. We kept in touch by owl post for a few weeks and then I quit hearing from him.
He never used the floo system to come to Hogsmeade even though I asked him. I don't know what happened.

TQ: And now, with the rumors of his death..

MR: Please don't use that word.

TQ: With the rumors of his probable demise..

MR: There was no body.

TQ: With the rumors of his disappearance, you've decided to ..

MR: Come forth and clear his name.

TQ: Oh. I thought we were talking about the closing of the pub?

MR: Well, that, too.

TQ: Why would you choose now to close a village institution, Rosmerta?

MR: With Sirius gone, I just don't feel I belong here anymore. His death was just such a waste. I don't want to be in a place where things like that happen. I have a few loose ends to tie up then it's off to the tropics. I'm going to see the places he wrote about to me.

TQ: You know you will be missed.

MR: There are people and things I'll miss, but it's no longer worthwhile for me.

TQ: Do you feel you've taken enough time to consider this course? So many people will mourn the loss the Three Broomsticks.

MR: What about me? What about my pain?

We leave this woman now, sobbing and broken as so many of us may have been if we too had known the true Sirius Black.

"This is a proud, proud day that the vile criminal Sirius Black will no threaten innocent children and puppy dogs. What? What do you mean he was on our side?"

--Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic

Down at the Garage

Sirius Black was one of our best customers. Back in the late seventies, he'd be round here at least once a fortnight to get the dents knocked out of his petrol tank, and once he came round in the dead of night with the front wheel blown out, and the intake vents chocker with green scales.

He loved that bike, he did, though he was never one for bothering about what went on inside the engine. I said to 'im, "Sirius, it's just a simple four stroke cycle: suck, squeeze, bang, blow. How hard is that to get the 'ang of?" He didn't really answer though, just sorta smiled to hisself in a dippy way and said not hard at all, but then he kinda straightened up and said he didn't think he was really cut out to be a magicanic.

He was a gent about letting us use it if it was in the shop, and he couldn't get over to pick it up. Took it over to Sarfend for the evening with the missus on the pillion more than once. 'Course that's illegal now - ever since the Muggles built that bridge at Dartford, but I've the Ministry never bother with me for some reason.

I never expected 'im to go that way. I always 'ad 'im pegged as the type to go down in a blaze of glory, and afterwards somebody'd write a song about it with a killer guitar solo. Falling backwards into the Great Hereafter after a falling out with one of his relatives - that's just not his style.

--Ollie "Crusher" Shunpike, Gaffer, The Grim Repair (Automotive Magicanics and Panel Beaters), Deptford.
(Ministry Drivers requiring speedy and discreet service, please use the back entrance and ask for Big Winston.)

"He got killed by a girl. A girl! Wuss.

--Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody

Interview with the Mermaid

Rita Skeeter: Mermaid, I understand you saw quite a lot of Sirius Black during his Hogwarts schooldays?

Mermaid in the Prefect Bathroom Portrait: Oh yes. Yes. All of him. Many, many times.

RS: But he wasn’t a prefect, so how did the young martyr access this bathroom?

MPBP: He would come in with his friend James, who was a prefect, and they would frolic amongst the studs – I mean suds.

RS: Suds?

MPBP: They enchanted the suds to act like pheromones, and would begin their frolic with a good rubdown. James had the sweetest moans, but Sirius…his sexy growl made me flap uncontrollably.

RS: Oh, er. So, the poor, dead Sirius and his best mate James had clean and healthy habits through their schooldays, unlike other boys?

MPBP: Clean? Spectacular! The way their muscular, yet sleek bodies gleamed through the coating of suds, especially when their limbs got all intertwined like that-

RS: Like what? Could you elaborate on the pathos of such a friendship, interrupted by gruesome death and horrible, wrongful incarceration?

MPBP: The depth of feeling between the two was most touching. Especially when James would touch Sirius in that special way, during a game of Bathtub Quidditch, and, well, then the limbs would start intertwining. James would say in his most sexily gruff voice, “Wanna do the Padfoot?” and Sirius, dear boy, would respond by shouting, “Gore me, my handsome stag,” while tweaking James’ nipples. Or was it scrotum groping? Yes, I’m sure it was accompanied by nipple tweaking because the scrotum-groping comes later-

RS: Quidditch! Even though he was too kind to make the Quidditch team, magnanimously ceding his place to Plodius Inefficax when Plodius wept at his failure to make the team, Sirius was a magnificent athlete, was he not? Did he express this in his bathing practices?

MPBP: James certainly thought so, and I found it most impressive, and very hot, when Sirius would keep his balance perfectly on the edge of the tub as James thrust from-

RS: I see. Sirius had perfect balance. Well, he was perfect in all ways, so it only follows that balance is included. Now, Mermaid of the Prefect Bathroom, I-

Moaning Myrtle: Wrong! Wrong! All wrong, the Mermaid is all wrong, all wrong, all wrong.

RS: Moaning Myrtle is shrieking.

MM: Wrong! Sirius was a prat. He made up a spell that froze me, and would throw rolls of toilet paper at my head, and give me twirlies, and…and…. he used to sit on the toilet and pick his nose! And wipe the bogies on the wall!

RS: Myrtle is delusional, again.

MM: Am not am not am not. I have his bogies saved in a jar.

RS/MPBP: Gross.

MM: It isn’t! I thought Sirius was the most handsome boy ever, until I peeked in here and saw him with James. Sirius was handsome, but he was hung like an acorn atop two peas. He was he was he was. I was devastated! You live people can’t understand how dreadful it is for a girl like me…. dead…to find out her death-long crush has substandard equipment! And I couldn’t love James. He was more of a prat than Sirius, even if he was extremely well hung. Ooohhhhhh….

RS: Myrtle is wailing. Mermaid, do you have anything to rebut or add?

MPBP: Myrtle is quite wrong. Sirius was a splendid young specimen of manhood…. all of him.

MMMyrtle, in between nose blows: You’re just sticking up for him because he used to lick you.

RS: Excuse me?

MPBP: Shut up, you horrid little girl.

MM: He did! He used to spend hours licking Mermaid, and she liked it! It was dreadful for the rest of us, when her moans went echoing through the drain work. The tongue action was a bribe, so that James and Sirius could share the bathroom without Mermaid telling. It was the only place they could play Padfoot, since Lily never left them alone for a second anywhere else. See, Mermaid’s got a blank spot on her canvas youknowwhere, where Sirius licked right through the paint.

RS: Er, now that you mention it, she does…Mermaid has flounced away.

MM: They really were prats, you know.

RS: Two young, athletic, loving, generous, virile, perfect males, whose lives graced ours far too briefly. I’m weeping. This is Rita Skeeter, from the Prefects Bathroom.

MM: <faintly, as she wafts away> They wore thongs….

"He liked to have a good time. He'll be missed at all future midnight lawn party/ecstasy induced raves that we hold weekly at the Burrow. In fact there's one this Saturday night. In his memory of course. 10 galleon cover charge."

--Bill Weasley

"I knew Sirius. Not well, of course, but a bit. I found him incredibly handsome and charming. Of course I also believe that Andrew Lloyd Weber is God's gift to musical theatre, so what do I know."

--Arabella Figg