Application: Petyr Baelish (A.K.A. Littlefinger), A Song of Ice and Fire

[petyr-baelish.livejournal.com]

((Littlefinger's motives for coming to Hogwarts stolen from Camilla. Thanks!))

A short man with grey-green eyes and a goatee strolled leisurely through the Great Hall to the head table. His elegant silk blue cloak with its silver mockingbird clasp was caked with mud, but he was smiling. "I should really have a talk with that Thoros," he drawled. "His directions were awful." He gave a low bow. "My name's Petyr Baelish, though you can call me Littlefinger. I was informed I might find what I'm looking for here."

At that, his expression darkened. "You see, all my life, I've dreamed of one thing," he said, "something that keeps me awake at nights, inflamed with passion, longing to feel her sweet, sweet lips upon my own as I run my fingers through her silky auburn hair, and that thing is...uh, magic." He coughed. "Yes, that's it. Magic. It's a nearly dead art where I'm from, you see, so I'm eager to study it at Hogwarts. Archaic magical lore is all so fascinating."

He gave his best I'm-totally-not-up-to-something look. It hurt his face; those muscles had atrophied from disuse years ago.

Meanwhile, he scanned the room to acquaint himself with his new surroundings. The floating chandeliers, the four long tables, the ceiling bewitched to look like the night sky--all were as his informers had described them. His upper lip curled at the large hat waiting for him on the stool. "Oh, do I have to put that dirty old thing on my head? Charming. Well, I'd best get on with it."  

1. What is your favorite cheese? Why is it your favorite?

"One of my favourite dishes is rich Lyseni fondue, served with honey and cantaloupe and washed down with a fruity 277 Arbor Gold. Just as long as it's not too melted. I like to keep my hands clean."

2. Who would you kill first, Barney or Carrottop?

"I've seen that thing you call television here, and it's moronic--when I want to be entertained, I'll send for Moon Boy. My answer is both. First, I'd frame Carrot Top for the murders of people close to Barney. Then I'd charm my way into Barney's good graces, only to betray him to Carrot Top at an opportune moment. All this would sow enmity between the cast of Barney and the saps looking for a cheap way to call collect, leading to a war that would ravage the continent. And finally, after years of circuitous planning, manipulation, deceit, backstabbing, and fondling Baby Bop, I'd end up King of Westeros and Azor Ahai reborn--"

He paused. "Wait a minute. No one else can hear these answers, right?"

3. What time is it where you are?

"Well, if I were in Westeros right now, it would be the middle of fall. I hope to finish my business here within a year or two. This way, I can get back to the Eyrie in time to fondle check on Sansa before winter makes the roads difficult to travel."

4. If you were Albus Dumbledore returned from the dead, which member of the Order of the Phoenix would you sexually harass? How would you harass them? If you are Albus Dumbledore, please answer as if you were Sirius Black.

Petyr scowled, thinking he really needed to find better informers in this land. He'd done his research, of course, and that barman at the Leaky Cauldron had told him about the Order of the Phoenix, but even Littlefinger couldn't be expected to know everyone who'd joined it in the past twenty years. "My sweetling Cat is the only woman I can imagining harassing, other than her daughter," he answered. "But if, gods forbid, I were Dumbledore and limited to someone in the Order...well, I don't suppose there are any beautiful dead redheads there? Preferably the kind that could inspire undying love in creepy childhood friends?" Even as he asked, he knew the odds were low.

5. If you are pushing to be in:

A. Slytherin - please state the clever, witty name of the bar in which you bartend, in the dark.

"Probably The Mockingbird. I don't forget my roots."

B. Gryffindor – Debate whether Harry should ultimately end up married to Fred or George. Use examples from a variety of world mythologies to bolster your argument.

"Well, since they're called 'Fred and George' and not the other way around, I presume Fred's the older twin, right? He'd come before George in line for the Weasley inheritance. All it would take to make him Arthur's heir are a few unfortunate accidents involving his older brothers and well-placed crossbow quarrels. So Fred's the wiser choice."

He stroked his goatee. "Mind you, if Harry has an unhealthy, decades-old obsession with George (in which case, far be it from me to judge him!), I suppose he could marry Fred, shove him off a cliff once he inherits, and blame it on Ron. Harry's new title as Lord of the Burrow would facilitate a marriage to George."

C. Ravenclaw – You guys are supposed to be smart. Explain why my desk is inundated with paperwork at all times, even though I’m constantly disposing of it.

"I put those papers there. It was a distraction to make you forget about the fifty thousand gold dragons I owe you."

D. Hufflepuff – Prove you are not useless.

"Well, as Master of the Coin on the king's small council, I increased the Crown's revenue tenfold. Also, my Catelyn blowup dolls can vouch for the skillful things I can do with my tongue."

6. Offer a bribe to the members of this community so that they will not squib you. Items used in bribery do not necessarily have to belong to the person offering the bribe. Do not threaten us rather than offering a bribe. A threat indicates you either don't really want to be here, or don't have enough sense to answer the question properly. The hat will automatically squib you, regardless of other votes, if you do.

At the mention of the word "bribe," Littlefinger's ears perked up. "My favourite part! I would offer those who'd vote for me ten thousand gold dragons, a position as Keeper of the Gates of the Moon, and the hand of my beautiful Catelyn surrogate bastard daughter. Of course, they'd get their throats slit first, but those fools don't have to know that..."

Littlefinger stopped in mid-sentence, suddenly wary. "Wait a minute. Who am I bribing? I thought no one else could hear these..."

He turned his head and saw the students gaping open-mouthed at him. "Damn."

"I have read the hogwarts_hocus faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG. --PB.
I have read the hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them. --PB.
I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch. --PB
One day, marmalade will rule the world (as a figurehead, while I control everything behind the scenes). --PB"

Comments

[wolfram-jyari.livejournal.com]

The blond wrinkled his nose. And people thought he was arrogant. "Are you saying that you would drink nearly 300 gold pieces? That's just wasteful; it reminds me of that servant boy who would eat bugs." Wolfram didn't mention that all the other children would squeal and cheer Bug Boy on, and Wolfram still resented it.

"Buy a new coat or nightie if you wish to express your wealth. It would be more effective and healthy. I hope you are taking this advice to heart!" That said, Wolfram eyes grew a bit wider, and he clapped his hands together once. "Can I have a dragon now?"

[petyr-baelish.livejournal.com]

What in the seven hells is this brat talking about? Petyr wondered, fighting to keep his affable smile plastered to his face. Then he understood.

"No, not real gold, I'm afraid," he said, in what he hoped was a friendly, charming voice. "Arbor Gold is a wine, and 277 is the year of the vintage. If I swallowed the king's gold instead of making it, I wouldn't have lasted long as Master of the Coin." Perfect, Littlefinger thought. Just a touch of gentle humour to win him over.

Petyr felt a mixture of outrage and amusement at this young man's rude attempt at begging and his strange advice (no one had ever accused Littlefinger of spending too little money on clothing). But he desperately needed allies at Hogwarts to help him find his beloved. Perhaps this one would do. He reached into the bulging purse at his belt, pulled out a gold coin, and placed it in the blond's hand.

"Here's your dragon, but next time, you could try saying please. And what might your name be?"

[dungbombsrule.livejournal.com]

"Well, George and Fred just sounds completely off. It has to do with the length of names. George takes a bit longer to say than Fred, and everyone knows that it sounds better when the shorter name comes first. If you were introducing Dan and Musidora, you wouldn't say Musidora and Dan. It comes as a bit of a let down." Ron paused, sounding out 'George and Fred'. "Besides, Fred and George sounds like names. To me, if you switch it around, George and Fred sounds like verbs. The chicken's been 'George and Fred'." The redhead shrugged, as he couldn't really figure out why that was, either. If that was some giant prank the twins cast on Ron's subconscious, it was a pretty extreme one for minimal pay-off.

"And I'm pretty sure my Dad doesn't go by 'Lord of the Burrow'. He doesn't even wear a hat most the time."

[petyr-baelish.livejournal.com]

For a long time, Petyr was speechless.

"I...see," he finally managed. "Tell me, by any chance, do you have any Stark blood in you? Your cleverness gave you away."

Petyr could have sworn that the Ministry official he'd bribed had told him the Weasleys were an ancient magical family. He really needed better sources. "So your father isn't a lord? Are you smallfolk, then, or is your family descended from a lesser branch of House Weasley?"

[runaway-stark.livejournal.com]

((*DEAD*))

Well, some of this sounded slightly familiar, in that she recognized place names and titles. He even looked vaguely familiar--she had probably seen him around King's Landing a time or two in the past. And Arya was only familiar with one Catelyn--her mother. "Who are you, and why are you talking about my mother?" The thought that there could have been a world of other Catelyns in Westeros never entered her mind.

[petyr-baelish.livejournal.com]

Petyr examined the scruffy girl's face and could barely contain his glee. It was Catelyn's daughter. The other one.

He briefly considered fondling her. Then he realized that she looked more like Eddard than like Catelyn. He felt a pang of disappointment.

"Arya of House Stark? I'm Petyr Baelish, former Master of the Coin under King Robert and King Joffrey," he said, crouching down to her height and extending a hand to her. "Your mother was an old, old friend of mine. She was more than that, actually, but that's not for the ears of a child."

Interesting. Very interesting. His brain was racing to work out the implications of finding the younger Stark daughter. If it would ever be in his best interests to invalidate the Bolton bastard's claim to Winterfell, he could produce this girl and prove his Stark bride an impostor.

And if it wouldn't be in his best interests...well, there were always those convenient crossbow quarrels to get rid of the evidence. After all, it wasn't as if the girl looked anything like Catelyn.

[castleinthesnow.livejournal.com]

....oh, of course Lord Petyr would show up. With a living husband, dead and walking family members, a younger sister, and an older half-brother all wandering around, what else could happen? Not that Sansa wasn't fond of Petyr - she was! He just... worried her, sometimes. She briefly revisited the idea of simply going mad, then shook her head slightly and approached her most recent rescuer. "My lord?"

[petyr-baelish.livejournal.com]

At the sight of the lovely girl he'd taken under his wing--with her delicate features, blue eyes, and auburn hair so much like Catelyn's--Petyr felt tingly happy. "Alayne," he said. "I thought you were back in the Eyrie! What are you doing here?"

[lilypotter60.livejournal.com]

((*has just died*))

Hmmm... This man was...distasteful. "Oh, you'd fit right in with some of the pureblooded families," she said with a smile that could cut. Not a compliment - not in Lily's book, at least. "And I don't know anyone who fits that description in the Order, no." Thank Merlin for small favours. (And little did she know...)

"So, your bribes are kind of rubbish. Got anything better than betrayal?"

[petyr-baelish.livejournal.com]

Judging from the scorn in this woman's voice, his little slips of the tongue during the Sorting had counted against him. It was a shame to have just arrived at Hogwarts and already be off to a bad start. But then again, hadn't he overcome an equally bad start in his own life? (Funny that she thought he'd fit best with the purebloods when his blood had been the greatest obstacle in his path back in Westeros.) He took a moment to inwardly shed an emo tear.

"Fine," he said. "What about the ten thousand dragons, the position as Keeper of the Gates of the Moon, and the betrothal...without the throat slitting? Actually, on second thought, no." Those were powerful bargaining chips that he couldn't afford to give away lightly. "I have a giant sack of money with me. Name your price."

[mischief-george.livejournal.com]

"Oi, now," George grinned, hands stuck in his pockets casually. "This 'Lord of the Burrow' bit - does that mean Dad? Or Bill? Or is it open to any Weasley? Because I might like the sound of 'Lord George Weasley'. Nice ring to it, yeah?" He considered. "I could make t-shirts."

Pause. "Oh, and Harry's not obsessed with me. Thank Merlin. Not that the bloke's not a good catch and all that. Just not my type." George grinned. "I more lean towards the blonde and female persuasion, to be honest."

[petyr-baelish.livejournal.com]

A sense of humour, thought Littlefinger. I like this one.

"Don't worry, it was a hypothetical example," he said, flashing his trademark smile. "And I'm afraid the T-shirts would be a little premature. Your father is the current Lord of the Burrow. When he dies, his oldest living son will inherit the lordship--and if they're gone, his oldest living daughter. If Fred's the older twin, you have to wait for four older brothers to die and hope none of them have sons before you can call yourself Lord of anything."

Littlefinger gave a shifty look around to make sure no one else was in earshot, then whispered conspiratorially to George, "If you need help, it can be arranged."

[lady-h3ath3r.livejournal.com]

Why 'Littlefinger'?

[petyr-baelish.livejournal.com]

"Three reasons," said Littlefinger. "Firstly, because my ancestral holdings comprise the smallest of the Fingers in the Kingdom of the Vale. Secondly, because I was short growing up. Thirdly, because..." His face turned red. "I'd rather not go into details."

[margrat.livejournal.com]

((*wave* Laughing SO HARD over here))

Gustav had no idea how long he'd been ambling about, steering well clear of the churchies, and it was probably better that he didn't know. As it was, he ambled over in time to (selectively) hear the latest application.

... well, this one certainly wasn't churchy. And something about him seemed vaguely familiar, if not in a particularly warm-and-fuzzy sense. Though he wasn't eager to head back to Ivalice given the marvelously bright future awaiting him there, he was still feeling rather uprooted (and the geographical confusion in his discussion with Balthier (http://community.livejournal.com/hogwarts_hocus/1415103.html?thread=71986111#t71986111) didn't help). On some level he didn't quite mind the prospect of being talked down to for a bit in a familiar fashion, just to remember how much he hated it. Nobody had ever accused Gustav of excessive cleverness.

"Ah. Well, hello," he said, unconsciously straightening up and trying to put on his knight face. "You seem to know where you're headed, at least."

He wondered if he should inquire as to whether the blowup dolls involved gunpowder.

If he'd had any idea what they actually were, he probably would have doubled over pointing and laughing. But then again, considering how his own social life had dipped in the aftermath of that Incident with the Hokuten, maybe not.

[petyr-baelish.livejournal.com]

Petyr observed the dishevelled man ambling over to him and registered several things. The first was that the stranger wore a dirty, bloodstained cloak and mismatching pieces of armour. The second was that he desperately needed a shave and a bath. The third was that he was screwing up his face and straightening his back in a way that was probably supposed to make him look responsible and serious, but that only made him look mildly hung over. The fourth was that there was vomit on his boots. And the fifth was that he had a sword.

"Look," Petyr hissed, "It seems everyone else here has some bizarre moral hang-up or other, so I'll cut to the chase. Do you accept bribes, yes or no?"

[sbisawesome.livejournal.com]

Strong Bad was totally impressed. "Master of the Coin? That sounds like an awesome video game. 'MASTER! OF THE COIN!!!'" He pictured a goateed 8-bit figure in tunic and hose jumping across golden Trogdor (http://www.hrwiki.org/index.php/Trogdor)s in order to collect coins. In his head it was like an Atarified hybrid of Super Mario Bros (coins) and Peasant's Quest (http://www.homestarrunner.com/disk4of12.html) (dragons, guy in a tunic). "So you can increase the revenue tenfold, eh? You know, I happen to know a country in need of a Master of the Coin with skills like yours to increase revenue. That country is Strong Badia (http://www.hrwiki.org/index.php/Strong_Badia), which I rule (http://www.hrwiki.org/index.php/i_rule). How would you like a job, my good man?"

[petyr-baelish.livejournal.com]

The prospect of being Master of the Coin of Strong Badia intrigued Petyr. If he played his cards right and slowly leeched power from the king (which, considering said king was a midget in a wrestling mask, Petyr doubted would be too hard), he could have two countries in the palm of his hand. In that case, forget Westeros; his new goal would be world domination!

Besides, it wasn't often someone reacted so enthusiastically to his job title. Considering how little Robert Baratheon had valued his work, it would be nice to be appreciated by a king for a change.

"Sounds interesting. So, tell me more about Strong Badia. What are its natural resources? Which countries are its primary trading partners? Are there any outstanding debts I should be aware of? Does Strong Badia import more goods than it exports? Who are the most influential merchants in the capital?"

[c-macaulay.livejournal.com]

(( Ned-mun here! I haven't put in Ned because I don't want to do that until Cat-mun can be consulted, and RL has eaten her. Soooo ... you get Camilla. :) ))

Camilla thought this man sounded rather interesting. Clever. Camilla liked clever people.

Camilla was also not averse to circuitous planning, manipulation, deceit, backstabbing; though she would draw the line at fondling Baby Bop. Something about Baby Bop sounded so very declassé.

"Hello," she said simply. "May I see one of the gold dragons? I imagine they're rather lovely old coins. Most things like that I've only seen in pictures, or behind glass in museums."

[petyr-baelish.livejournal.com]

Petyr smiled, and his grey-green eyes twinkled. "You imagined right. Most of the people around here seem to expect them to breathe fire."

He handed her one of the coins from his sack. "Spend it or put it behind glass, whatever you wish. I've brought more than I can carry. Tell me, what might your name be? I can tell from your manners that you're highborn."

[insane-mil-cmdr.livejournal.com]

Tell me, are these gold dragons a spendable currency on this planet? I find I stand in dire need of funds at the moment.

[petyr-baelish.livejournal.com]

"They are," said Petyr, smiling as usual, "and a valuable currency at that." (Petyr wasn't quite sure if Westeros was on the same planet as Hogwarts, but decided not to tell this man that. Besides, wasn't solid gold worth something everywhere?)

Given his lack of success with bribes thus far, Petyr decided to try a different approach. "So you're short of funds? Hmm. It just so happens I have an available job that wouldn't involve much work, if you're interested. I'd pay you a good salary--oh, would this be enough?" With both hands, he pulled out the heavy, bulging money sack at his belt and opened it, casually revealing the thousands of glittering gold dragons inside. A few overflowing coins fell to the floor.

"Of course, much as I'd like to help you out, the problem is that I can't hire just anyone. He'd have to be a man of considerable intelligence and charm, someone I can trust to be subtle and discreet. Can you prove to me that you'd be qualified for the position?"

[toujours-sirius.livejournal.com]

Sirius knew bullshit when he smelled it. Especially bullshit of the sort he had heard every day growing up in the 'Noble and Most Ancient House of Black'. And this bloke positively reeked of it.

Figuratively speaking, of course.

"Yes, there's a beautiful dead redhead in the Order," he said snappishly, pointing a menacing finger at Petyr. "She just happens to be my girlfriend, and you'd do well to stay away from her." He had taken the 'inspiring undying love in creepy childhood friends' comment very personally, and Petyr hadn't helped his case by appearing to have a thing for redheads in general, what with the whole thing about wanting to run his fingers through the silky auburn hair of magic.

Not that he thought Lily'd give this idiot more than a passing glance, of course, but she had gone through enough without having to worry about morons like this bothering her.

Petyr's willingness to betray so easily also reminded Sirius of someone whose name bore a sharp resemblance to Petyr's, and that made him feel even more ornery.

"I'll be honest with you," he continued. "You're a wanker. Give me one good reason that I shouldn't send Fuckbeak the Squibbogriff after your miserable arse."

[kill-voldemort.livejournal.com]

"Er...I don't think I want to be Lord of the Burrow." Harry had had enough bad experiences with Lords of the Dark sort in his life, so he figured it was safest to swear off anything involving lordship in general.

Also, although he certainly wouldn't say this to someone he didn't know and who seemed like something of an idiot, there really wasn't much Weasley inheritance to speak of if one was counting the inheritance in fiscal terms only. In fact, if anything, the twins were the richest of the lot, considering the success of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, so it would be pretty stupid to kill one of them and marry the other for the purposes of inheriting from Mr and Mrs Weasley.

Thinking about all this was making Harry's head hurt.

"I also think I've had enough of dragons," he continued. "And I've no interest in having my throat slit. But I know someone who would, if you can slit the throat of a ghost."

[mischief-fred.livejournal.com]

Fred nodded briskly. "I'm Fred Weasley, and I like where you're going with Question 5B. Tell me, what sort of unfortunate accident do you think we could lay on Percy? From what I've heard, my brother Ron's friend once charmed a flock of birds to peck at his head. Reckon that might be fitting for ol' Perce? Or - no, wait, we could charm his head to blow up to five times its usual size. That would teach him to be a self-righteous, bigheaded git, don't you think?"

[ugly-old-hat.livejournal.com]

"HEY! I AM NOT A DIRTY OLD THING!" The Hat was very incensed. It ground itself down into Petyr's hair in defiance.

[ugly-imp.livejournal.com]

((OOC: This app was so awesome that, even though it was posted ages ago, I still had to send my terribly inactive pups in.))

Tyrion entered the sorting room, staring with incredulous dismay at the latest applicant. "You!" he muttered incredulously. "Seven hells!" Then he shuffled a step forward, scowl deepening. "I trust the blow-up dolls will keep you sufficiently satisfied that you'll keep your hands off my wife."

[petyr-baelish.livejournal.com]

What ill luck, thought Petyr. He'd finally found the person whose dogged determination to keep breathing was the only obstacle in Littlefinger's path to ultimate power...and it was at a magical school where killing was impossible.

"Wait, you heard me--?" Petyr felt his face heat up. "Look, just because I sometimes turn to the inanimate for affection--and if you ever breathe that to a soul in Westeros, I swear to you, you'll wish you'd stayed for your execution--in no way does that mean animate women don't find me desirable, merely that...merely that, for a man of my virility...oh, you're one to talk, Ser I-Haven't-Fucked-a-Woman-I-Didn't-Pay-for-in-Twenty-Years! At least my hands have touched your wife more often than yours have."

[chaotic-miles.livejournal.com]

Miles moseyed into the sorting room at his usual moseying speed, which would have been described as pretty much breakneck by anyone else.

He scanned the application, then regarded Littlefinger curiously. "You weren't old Vor in a previous life, were you?" he asked. "Because reading this has me all nostalgic for life in Vorbar Sultana, except for the obvious fact that I'd probably see my cousin more often, and really, I just can't bring myself to be all that nostalgic toward Ivan." Realizing he was babbling as usual, he tried to switch gears. "So, as a point of curiosity since I'm not from wherever it is you come from, who are you trying to betray and/or kill and/or buy?"