The Seat

AN: *shakes her head*

I started off writing Harry angst.

Guess what! ITS NOT HARRY!

Lets try this one more time, I posted it once before... but I'm posting it again. If I don't get any reviews within two weeks its coming down until I can figure out why you people don't like this fic! My one friend who read it did!

I don't own HP yada yada yada.

Read AN's at the end please. It clears things up if you don't get it.

I cracked, I finally cracked. I'm seeing things not there. Lookie, lookie, look at that spot over there. That is where I used to sit, yes sit. Just sit. I just sat there. I suppose I did meaningful things there. There in that seat. Ooh yes, I had fun in that seat.

In that seat I watched the little babes die and then grow up. Or was it grow up and die? Or perhaps they were dieing as they grew. Did they die when they were born? Perhaps they grew down and were born instead of died. Yes. They grew down and were born. Much happier pictures seen in that little delusion.

I led them to their deaths you know. Sitting there in that seat. Oh that wonderful seat. That seat was comfortable. It was made of leather and had just enough padding, not too much so that I couldn't get out mind you, but enough so that my bum wouldn't hurt after sitting in that seat for so long. I sat in that leather seat for a long time, all the while leading the children to their deaths… oops. I was supposed to say leading them to their births.

Won't you let me take that seat with me? Please? I have sat there for so long my bum has molded the cushion of that seat. Yes, if you sat on that seat you would be quite uncomfortable, it is only my seat to sit upon. And if you sat upon it, you would lead children to their births.

No, that is only my job. Only my job to lead children to their births. Little children with red hair, little children with black hair, little children with brown hair, little children with blond hair, all to their births. Their mothers were so happy with their rebirth that they cried for days upon days. That is of course I hadn't already led the mother's to their births already.

On that seat, on that seat, that was a fine seat. On that seat I made heroes out of villains, villains out of babies, and led children to their births. I led them all in a procession you know, all while I was sitting in that chair. Oh we all went to the ministry, all of us. Fighting city hall don't you know. They say you can't fight it, but you can fight it perfectly fine, it's the winning that's difficult.

As I sat in that seat I led the procession to the ministry while fighting half the procession along the way. Those were the villains I had made from babies. But enough about city hall and fighting. I led them, them being the children, to their births. Yes all of them.

The little blond snake, who proved to be a hero, he defied the basilisk. Until he was birthed. His mother did not cry as he was rebirthed. I suppose that is what happens when you no longer have a soul. He was not the only snake, only the most memorable, for he was mated with a red griffin. This griffin's brothers were not happy. But they had seen the odd companionship. Most of them birthed, along with their sister. Their mother wept for days before she rebirthed herself.

Enough about the griffins, enough about all the children who were rebirthed. I led them there. We lost an entire year of griffons! Shocked the boulder cap off of the candy I'll tell you that. I had led them all to their births. Happy isn't it? They get to enjoy their mother's womb once again.

Well we'd best be off, you, the hero I'm dragging with me, and bring that seat. I want to sit my bum in it where we're going. I can at least have my seat in that fiery place. I know that they wouldn't mind me having this seat. This seat, this seat, this seat had led the procession. I don't suppose they would let me have lemon drops in hell would they?

AN:

First, it was Dumbledore, if you didn't get that from the summary, then you should get your head checked.

Second, I wrote it in about 25 minutes. No revisions. Pure rough cut you could say.

Third, please review. I need reviews to live, and to see if I should make it into a story rather than an insane old man croaking on and on about his seat and births and stuff.