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hh_mirrorA soft coalescence of heavenly blue light made itself happen in the Sorting Room. It stirred into a cloud, a shape, a body... a dog. A mangy, flea bitten mutt that could have been part german shepherd somewhere down the line, but was all mutt from the tip of one gnawed ear to the bottoms of his dirty paws.
Charlie B. Barkin, formerly alive, dead, alive and dead again, dropped from the blue, sparkling cloud in an undignified heap with all the grace allotted his species, which was to say none.
"One place this ain't is Heaven," Charlie muttered, picking himself off the floor with a pained grunt. He didn't remember there being cold stone floors in Heaven. Or stone walls, or anything that wasn't pink clouds, stars, halos and clocks.
So maybe (definitely) he wasn't going back after all. Hell, all of that pretty blue light and the "come home, Charlie" and the sparkles... Never trust a whippet. Heck, never trust a damn dead dog about anything. especially ones that could dance.
Sure, he'd died for Anne-Marie (and Itchy. God bless him, never forget Itchy) and he'd do it all over again if he was asked to. But he figured if this is where someone who nobly sacrificed his life to be a Good Dog and do the things that Good Dogs did ended up, well... he didn't want it anyway. Not that he had a choice.
Well, he'd dealt with worse. And if the worst this place (wherever this place was) could throw at him was a floating pansy pen, then he'd take here over New Orleans any day. Better than getting shot at by Flash Gordon rayguns or being nearly-eaten by foppish, gigantic sewer gators. Nothing, he was sure, could beat that.
He sniffed at the quill and parchment topped table, wishing for nothing more at that moment than a stiff drink.
State your full name.
"Charlie Butch Barkin, atcher service. And, not Charles, thank you. Charles is for classier guys than me." He was unsurprised when the quill began to write as he spoke. Hell, if little girls could understand animal talk and dogs could come back to life with the help of a nice watch (and where had his gone, anyway?) was this any weirder? No, thank you.
1. What is your favorite cheese? Why is it your favorite?
Oh, now somebody was speaking his language. Cheese, sure. He could talk cheese or any kind of food for hours, given the chance.
"Gorganzola. The good kind, stuffed in an olive, on a toothpick - none of those fancy little sword shaped ones, thanks - in a nice, dirty martini." He smacked his chops, mouth watering. What he wouldn't give for one right now.
2. Who would you kill first, Barney or Carrottop?
"Oh, hey," he held up his paws, knowing logically that the pen couldn't see him, but still. Dog's gotta defend himself. "Hey, I'm not in the killing business. You'll want to go to Carface for that." That stupid pug would kill anyone, given the chance. Charlie would know.
3. What time is it where you are?
"Night?" He paused, thinking. It was nighttime when he'd said his goodbyes to Anne-Marie and Itchy. Sometime late, close to midnight. "Late night. 'Round eleven or so."
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.
Well, this little interview had certainly taken a left turn into Weirder-Than-Expected-ville. He wrinkled his snout a little. He didn't know any of these people, and a well-aimed newspaper had taught him a fine lesson the last time he'd tried humping a person's leg. he'd never tried that again, for sure.
"I know plenty about coming back from the dead, pal, and lemme tell you, that kind of harassment is probably going to be the last thing on your mind once you make the return trip." he snorted. "Grievous bodily harm, however... that's fair game."
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.
He laughed. "Charlie's Place, naturally. But, lets set things level here: I don't bartend. I... how can i say it... I like to keep on the business end of things. And brother, a dark bar ain't gonna buy you no customers. You want lights and dancing girls and craps tables. You want your name up there for everyone to see. you want a bar? It's gotta be your place, know what I'm saying? Yours. And if I'm gonna be at a bar, it's gonna be Charlie's Place."
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.
The face Charlie made at that was one of utter disapproval. "Marriage? You're pulling my leg, here. There are plenty of fine dames around; no need to stick yourself with one, know what I'm sayin'?" His disapproval turned to disgust. "Bleagh. Marriage. That's stuff for saps, pal."
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.
He shrugged. "Get someone else to do it. If you know a guy who knows a guy, you won't see any paperwork ever again. Of course, you want to keep an eye on these things, or someone's bound to be trotting around with a cement collar, eventually. And in my opinion, better the other guy than you."
D. Hufflepuff – Prove you are not useless.
Charlie spread his paws and sat back on his haunches. "Look at me. I'm a dog; I'm a businessman. I run my own casino, pal. I know guys who know guys who know guys all over Louisiana. I've broken out of The Joint more times than I can count on all four paws. Useless is one thing I most certainly am not." It would probably be noted later that he didn't mention all of these things happened with help, usually from Itchy, but that was immaterial. Itchy wasn't here to complain, was he? Why not take a little of the glory for himself, then?
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.
"Oh, well," damn. Didn't that just bite him in the ass right away. "I don't have anything on me at the moment. You know, no pockets and all. But I tell you what: We get to my place, or hell, any casino in Louisiana, I'll get you more'n just a couple of bones, get me? I know how these things work, you dig?" Not that he had Anne-Marie to help him predict the outcome of the races, or any real clout (being a dead dog and all) with most places any more. And not to mention that Charlie's Place had burned to the ground not a few hours ago. But it was the principal of the thing. No one ever expected you to pay up on bribes that weren't immediately available. If you were lucky.
"I have read the [info]hogwarts_hocus faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG. ______Charlie B.______
I have read the [info]hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them. _____Charlie B.______.
I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch. _____Charlie B.______.
One day, marmalade will rule the world. ______Charlie B._______"
Charlie B. Barkin, formerly alive, dead, alive and dead again, dropped from the blue, sparkling cloud in an undignified heap with all the grace allotted his species, which was to say none.
"One place this ain't is Heaven," Charlie muttered, picking himself off the floor with a pained grunt. He didn't remember there being cold stone floors in Heaven. Or stone walls, or anything that wasn't pink clouds, stars, halos and clocks.
So maybe (definitely) he wasn't going back after all. Hell, all of that pretty blue light and the "come home, Charlie" and the sparkles... Never trust a whippet. Heck, never trust a damn dead dog about anything. especially ones that could dance.
Sure, he'd died for Anne-Marie (and Itchy. God bless him, never forget Itchy) and he'd do it all over again if he was asked to. But he figured if this is where someone who nobly sacrificed his life to be a Good Dog and do the things that Good Dogs did ended up, well... he didn't want it anyway. Not that he had a choice.
Well, he'd dealt with worse. And if the worst this place (wherever this place was) could throw at him was a floating pansy pen, then he'd take here over New Orleans any day. Better than getting shot at by Flash Gordon rayguns or being nearly-eaten by foppish, gigantic sewer gators. Nothing, he was sure, could beat that.
He sniffed at the quill and parchment topped table, wishing for nothing more at that moment than a stiff drink.
State your full name.
"Charlie Butch Barkin, atcher service. And, not Charles, thank you. Charles is for classier guys than me." He was unsurprised when the quill began to write as he spoke. Hell, if little girls could understand animal talk and dogs could come back to life with the help of a nice watch (and where had his gone, anyway?) was this any weirder? No, thank you.
1. What is your favorite cheese? Why is it your favorite?
Oh, now somebody was speaking his language. Cheese, sure. He could talk cheese or any kind of food for hours, given the chance.
"Gorganzola. The good kind, stuffed in an olive, on a toothpick - none of those fancy little sword shaped ones, thanks - in a nice, dirty martini." He smacked his chops, mouth watering. What he wouldn't give for one right now.
2. Who would you kill first, Barney or Carrottop?
"Oh, hey," he held up his paws, knowing logically that the pen couldn't see him, but still. Dog's gotta defend himself. "Hey, I'm not in the killing business. You'll want to go to Carface for that." That stupid pug would kill anyone, given the chance. Charlie would know.
3. What time is it where you are?
"Night?" He paused, thinking. It was nighttime when he'd said his goodbyes to Anne-Marie and Itchy. Sometime late, close to midnight. "Late night. 'Round eleven or so."
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.
Well, this little interview had certainly taken a left turn into Weirder-Than-Expected-ville. He wrinkled his snout a little. He didn't know any of these people, and a well-aimed newspaper had taught him a fine lesson the last time he'd tried humping a person's leg. he'd never tried that again, for sure.
"I know plenty about coming back from the dead, pal, and lemme tell you, that kind of harassment is probably going to be the last thing on your mind once you make the return trip." he snorted. "Grievous bodily harm, however... that's fair game."
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.
He laughed. "Charlie's Place, naturally. But, lets set things level here: I don't bartend. I... how can i say it... I like to keep on the business end of things. And brother, a dark bar ain't gonna buy you no customers. You want lights and dancing girls and craps tables. You want your name up there for everyone to see. you want a bar? It's gotta be your place, know what I'm saying? Yours. And if I'm gonna be at a bar, it's gonna be Charlie's Place."
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.
The face Charlie made at that was one of utter disapproval. "Marriage? You're pulling my leg, here. There are plenty of fine dames around; no need to stick yourself with one, know what I'm sayin'?" His disapproval turned to disgust. "Bleagh. Marriage. That's stuff for saps, pal."
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.
He shrugged. "Get someone else to do it. If you know a guy who knows a guy, you won't see any paperwork ever again. Of course, you want to keep an eye on these things, or someone's bound to be trotting around with a cement collar, eventually. And in my opinion, better the other guy than you."
D. Hufflepuff – Prove you are not useless.
Charlie spread his paws and sat back on his haunches. "Look at me. I'm a dog; I'm a businessman. I run my own casino, pal. I know guys who know guys who know guys all over Louisiana. I've broken out of The Joint more times than I can count on all four paws. Useless is one thing I most certainly am not." It would probably be noted later that he didn't mention all of these things happened with help, usually from Itchy, but that was immaterial. Itchy wasn't here to complain, was he? Why not take a little of the glory for himself, then?
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.
"Oh, well," damn. Didn't that just bite him in the ass right away. "I don't have anything on me at the moment. You know, no pockets and all. But I tell you what: We get to my place, or hell, any casino in Louisiana, I'll get you more'n just a couple of bones, get me? I know how these things work, you dig?" Not that he had Anne-Marie to help him predict the outcome of the races, or any real clout (being a dead dog and all) with most places any more. And not to mention that Charlie's Place had burned to the ground not a few hours ago. But it was the principal of the thing. No one ever expected you to pay up on bribes that weren't immediately available. If you were lucky.
"I have read the [info]hogwarts_hocus faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG. ______Charlie B.______
I have read the [info]hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them. _____Charlie B.______.
I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch. _____Charlie B.______.
One day, marmalade will rule the world. ______Charlie B._______"
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