TBAY: Banging On The Dishwasher (WAS Dumbledore's head )

[Cindy C.]

No: HPFGUIDX 47093

Melody, Abigail and Pip were huddled at a circular table in the 
corner of the Tavern and had prevailed upon George to provide some 
of his budget culinary offerings.  The table was strewn with several 
partially consumed frozen dinners and bowls of canned chili, as well 
as a loaf of noticeably stale white bread.  George, who had mumbled 
his regrets for serving up the provisions reserved for natural 
disasters, bustled back up from the basement storage room, his 
muscular arms laden with three dented cans of corned beef that 
bulged only slightly.

Cindy sidled up to the table and leaned heavily against it, causing 
two of the platters of food to slide several inches closer to the 
edge.  "I couldn't help but overhear a bit of your MAGICDISHWASHER 
conversation," she said quietly.  "Something about it being canon-
proof."

"Yes," Abigail said.  "Some in the Safe House are claiming that 
MAGICDISHWASHER is canon-proof, claiming they don't need 
verification in canon.  I say that's just a hop and a skip away from 
claiming that all canon contradiction is, in fact, a lie or a 
misdirection.  This is very upsetting to those of us with MD canon 
concerns."

"What do you think, Cindy?" Melody asked hopefully.  "You think 
MAGICDISHWASHER is canon-proof *and* Bangy, right?"  Pip peered up 
as well, nodding her approval.

Cindy stood motionless, just long enough for those at the 
surrounding tables to grow quiet.  Some, sensing trouble, grabbed 
their drinks and snacks and scurried to the far side of the Tavern.  
Others, overconfident because Cindy had been pleasant and affable 
for most of the evening, chose not to move and instead craned their 
necks or pivoted their chairs in her direction for a better view.

This, as it turned out, was a mistake.

Cindy's eyes suddenly narrowed to slits, her upper lip curling into 
a snarl.  "HERE'S WHAT I THINK OF YOUR CANON-PROOF 
MAGICDISHWASHER!!!!" she bellowed.  She grabbed the edge of the 
circular table and heaved it with all her strength, sending it 
flipping into the air like a tiddlywink.  Refreshments sprayed the 
surrounding tables, cheap plastic cutlery bouncing off the tile 
floor, beer glasses shattering, launching razor-sharp shards into 
the crowd.

"Darn! . . . Impossible!  . . . Theory!" Cindy shrieked, punctuating 
each word with a stomp on the debris strewn on the 
floor.  "Can't! . . . Under . . . Stand . . . It!"  Flattened 
plastic ketchup packets sent arcs of scarlet paste to the walls, 
forming a splatter pattern as though someone had been shot at close 
range.  Cindy kicked the dried flower arrangement so hard that it 
caromed off the ceiling and landed on top of one of the torches, 
bursting into flames and leaving a long scorch mark on the plaster.  

George threw down his dishrag and raced around from behind the bar, 
grabbing Cindy by the scruff of the neck.  "What the heck do you 
think you're doing?!" he bellowed.  "Are you trying to put me out of 
business?"  He glanced around nervously at his guests; the few who 
had not taken cover were frozen in disbelief, bits of processed meat 
clinging to their hair.  Melody, Abigail and Pip sat motionless in 
their chairs, gaping at what used to be their dinner.  George 
lowered his voice, his lips close to Cindy's right ear.

"Look," he hissed.  "One more outburst like that and I'll throw you 
out of here, I swear it.  I don't know what sort of place you run on 
that destroyer of yours, but I run a clean and orderly 
establishment."

"I'm sorry -– "

"No, this is it, Cindy.  I mean it -- one more time and you'll be 
out of here for good."

"But I had to get their attention, George.  I've read the 
MAGICDISHWASHER posts -–"

"All 200 of them?" George asked, impressed.

"Well, no," Cindy confessed, pulling free of George's grip.  "But I 
read the really *Big* ones.  And I still don't understand it.  There 
isn't any complete explanation anywhere –- not Hypothetic Alley, not 
Inish Alley, no place!  And just when you think you've got it, 
people start talking about *meta-thinking,* whatever that is.  
Elkins tried to explain meta-thinking to me one time, and I didn't 
get it.  What's wrong with me that I didn't get it, George?  I 
thought my head was going to *explode!*
 
"Besides, Abigail has a point.  The cornerstone of MAGICDISHWASHER 
seems to be that Albus Dumbledore is living a lie!  Any bit of canon 
that support MD is embraced, but any canon that contradicts MD can 
be dismissed as Master Misdirection, all carefully orchestrated as 
part of a master plan to restore Voldemort.  Even if Dumbledore were 
to face down Voldemort and explicitly disavow MD, the MD crowd would 
just say he was lying.  

"That means the theory has no *tension* -- no inherent risk!  If it 
can never be disproved, it can't be exciting.  So if the MD 
adherents say that their theory is totally incontrovertible, 
well . . . then why even bother to analyze it?  So I have a 
question, one simple question:  Can any of the MD adherents tell us 
what it would take to *disprove* the theory?"

"Cindy, haven't you figured out the point of MD yet?"  George rolled 
his eyes.  "It's not *supposed* to be a real theory.  That's the 
whole point!  Pip came up with a theory that *no one* -- and I mean 
no one –- can possibly understand!  You're not supposed to get it.  
Ever.  So the main rule of MD is this:  'If you have to ask, you 
shouldn't ask.'  Got it?"

George grabbed Cindy's upper arm and guided her with just a bit more 
force than was comfortable to the far corner of the room.  "Look, no 
good will come from having you anywhere near the MD table.  Why 
don't you go over and see what's happening at Saboteur!Snape.  I 
think they're talking about you."  George released her arm and 
shoved her roughly in the back to keep her moving.

Cindy straightened her uniform, and marched confidently up to the 
Saboteur!Snape table.  Charis and Derannimer were still there and 
deeply absorbed in conversation, their glasses drained and their 
platters empty.

" . . . I never meant that Snape couldn't be a spy," Derannimer was 
saying.  "I simply meant that there is no Bang with Snape the Spy. 
After all . . . "  Derannimer stopped in mid-sentence, her voice 
dying in her throat as she noticed Cindy's shadow fall across the 
table.

"Go on.  I'm listening" Cindy said.

"Uh . . . well . . ."  Derannimer tried to stop herself from 
flinching and fought to find her voice.  "Yes, there could be a 
great deal of violence and angst and such with Snape the Spy. But no 
more than with Snape the Saboteur." 

"You know, I think Saboteur!Snape has the same sort of problem that 
the MAGICDISHWASHER folks are having," Cindy said calmly.  "There's 
a certain lack of tension in Saboteur!Snape.  I mean, what happens 
if Saboteur!Snape fails?"

"Fails?" asked Charis Julia.

"Right.  Fails.  Like Snape goes to Azkaban and can't conjure a 
Patronus.  Are you saying that he'll just say, 'Uh-oh.  Should have 
paid attention in DADA classes after all.  Right then, Dementors, 
I'll shove off now'?  Or he'll get his soul sucked out on the spot 
and that's it for Snape for the next three books?  The lack of 
tension is that if Snape succeeds in booting the Dementors out of 
Azkaban, it doesn't Bang.  And if he fails, it only Bangs a little 
bit at best.  Nah, if JKR is going to sacrifice Snape, it's not 
going to be half a page of him feeling woozy and cold before his 
soul is sucked out.  Oh, no.  If Snape dies, it will be *huge,* and 
for me anyway, intensely satisfying.  It will go on and on and on.  
I just don't think Saboteur!Snape has enough heft for a character 
like Snape."

"Well," Derannimer sniffed, "you still have not addressed the 
problems with Snape the Spy.  It's too predictable.  There's the 
little problem that 95% of readers, no matter how casual or even 
lazy, already believe in Snape the Spy. It can't Bang; it's too well 
established."

Cindy frowned deeply, her forehead wrinkled as though in intense 
concentration.  No, Derannimer thought.  That wasn't concentration.  
That was sun damage.

"Sounds familiar, doesn't it?" asks Derannimer quietly.  "I was 
poking around in town, and I found *this* in Message 38,921:

**********

>*No way* is Cindy going for any of those alternative Memory Charm 
>theories because. . . they are all sizzle and no Bang. No 
>Bang at all. Lots of allegations of corruption and collusion and 
>such, that's true, but no more so than in MATCHINGARMCHAIR. 

>In the final analysis, though, we're talking about that same old 
>Traditional Memory Charm that 90% of readers worked out on their 
>own. Nothing can change the fact that, no matter how much you dress 
>up those Traditional Memory Charm theories, *there's no potential 
>Bangy plot twist with Memory Charm Neville because we've all been 
>ready for it since the end of GoF.* 


***********

"Where did you get that?" Cindy asked in disbelief.  "I don't 
remember saying any such thing."  She snatched the scrap of paper 
from Derannimer's hand.

"I know it's not really *that strong* of an argument," Derannimer 
smirked, "but hey; good enough for you, good enough for me."

"What the -- oh . . . *Oh,* I see!" Cindy staring down at the tiny 
print on the yellowing paper.  "You think . . . you . . . you 
thought *I* said this?"  She began to chuckle with relief.  "No!  
No, no, no.  This is just a page from the script."

"The script?" Derannimer echoed blankly.  

"The script," Cindy repeated.  "From the smash hit Spielberg 
production 'Bang This!'  Surely you've seen 'Bang This!'"

Derannimer shook her head slowly, her expression confused.  "I'm new 
here so I -– "

Cindy sighed patiently.  "'Bang This!' is the low-budget film that 
made Elkins a *star.*  The film included this paddle smashing scene 
Elkins had improvised, and in the blink of an eye, she was a 
Hollywood sensation!  Leno, Letterman, even Jerry Springer -– oh, 
she was *hot!*  And then success started to be too much for her.  
She started theorizing day and night.  Some days she never left her 
house, never slept, never ate –- she just paced back and forth, 
spinning ever more wild theories, trying everything she could think 
of, buying theories off of two-bit hacks in crummy neighborhoods, 
just for the thrills.  Some of us tried an intervention, but we 
couldn't get through to her.  Before you could say 'subversion,' 
Elkins had crashed and burned.  She hasn't theorized in ages, 
although some say she is going to make a comeback -– something about 
redemption.  Last I heard, she was wandering the town, her fame 
gone, her money gone, accosting strangers, mumbling about a 
storm . . . ."  Cindy's voice trailed off and she turned toward the 
wall abruptly, dabbing at something that had lodged itself in her 
left eye.

"I'm sorry," Derannimer mumbled.  "I didn't mean –- "

"No, it's OK,"  Cindy sniffed.  She picked up Derannmer's napkin and 
blew her nose vigorously.  "Really, it's OK.  I'll tell you what.  
You're a good theorist.  Let's do something to take our minds off of 
that darn movie.  How about we have a little fun with The Sirius 
Apologist?  I found a canon in GoF, 'The Scar' that ought to stir 
things up a bit.  Watch this . . . "

Cindy stepped onto the wooden dance floor at the center of the 
Tavern and slipped her wand from her uniform.  She took careful aim 
at the wall and began to write:

************

"What he really wanted (and it felt almost shameful to admit it to 
himself) was someone like – someone like a *parent*: an adult wizard 
whose advice he could ask without feeling stupid, someone who cared 
about him, who had had experience with Dark Magic . . . .  And then 
the solution came to him.  It was so simple, so obvious, that he 
couldn't believe it had taken so long –- Sirius."

************

"Wait for it . . . just wait for it . . . " Cindy breathed.

A few seconds of tense silence, and then *BANG!*  The door to the 
Tavern flew open, a dusty mark in the shape of Dicentra's boot 
clearly visible on the ancient wood.  Dicentra bounded into the 
middle of the Tavern, skidding to a stop before the words that still 
blazed on the wall, her wand at the ready, her rather befuddled 
sidekick trailing behind.  

"NO ONE EXPECTS THE SIRIUS --" 

Dicentra stopped abruptly, staring at the words from GoF, her mouth 
slightly open.  Her wand slipped from her fingers and clattered to 
the floor.

"Hi, Dicey," Cindy said cheerfully.  "We were, uh, *expecting* you.  
What do you make of this little canon?  I don't know if it is new or 
not, in fact, I'd be surprised if this hasn't come up, but I thought 
I'd just toss it out there.  

"Isn't this canon strange?  I mean, Sirius is supposed to be a good 
guy.  He was on Dumbledore's team, and he is probably good at 
Transfiguration.  But there's nothing to suggest he knows the first 
thing about Dark Magic.  We've never seen him perform any, and he 
hasn't even conjured a Patronus, so far as we know.  Yet here JKR is 
hinting that Sirius is someone who 'had experience with Dark 
Magic.'  What could she be implying there, exactly?  That Sirius is 
*Ever So Evil,* do you think?"

"Uh . . . " Dicentra began.

"It's odd, isn't it?" Cindy said.  "I consider myself a Sirius 
apologist, and I am rather puzzled by this canon and why JKR would 
write such a thing about Sirius.  Tell you what.  Would you have a 
look at that marvelous Sirius FP and let me what the conventional 
wisdom is on this?"

Before Dicentra could reply, the air was filled with the sound of 
dozens of ear-splitting, shrill sirens.  Most of the theorists in 
the Tavern clapped their hands over their ears, wincing.  Prank ran 
to the Tavern door and began to scratch wildly, trying to escape 
into the night.  George's shapely lips were moving, but Cindy could 
not make out the words over the cacophony of horns.  She glanced 
down at her alphanumeric pager, suddenly chilled at the blunt 
message on its tiny screen:  "Big Bang -- Mutiny -– Humpty Dumpty."  
She quickly punched a red button on the top of her pager, and the 
sirens stopped their blasting.  "Don't be alarmed folks," Cindy 
shouted over the ringing in her ears.  "It's just the security 
sensor on the Big Bang.  I'll check it out.  As you were."

Her jaw set, Cindy apparated to the deck of the Big Bang Destroyer.  
Her sharp eyes immediately made out two slender figures near the 
port side.

"Hold it right there!" she shouted.  The two trespassers froze, and 
then, apparently deciding it would be useless to flee, meekly 
shuffled forward into the light.  It was Eloise, with Pip lurking 
several steps behind.

Cindy narrowed her eyes to slits, taking in the flimsy white cloth 
banner that obscured the Big Bang's gleaming brass nameplate 
–- "Humpty Dumpty!" it read.  She took a deep breath and advanced 
menacingly on Eloise.  "What do you think you're doing?  Why are you 
defacing the Big Bang?" she growled.

Eloise folded her arms across her chest and spoke defiantly.  "We've 
decided you should be relieved of command of the Big Bang.  You're 
not fit to serve.  We have a Dumbledore theory that Bangs, and you 
won't even acknowledge it.  So we've taken matters into our own 
hands."  She nodded her head in the direction of a crumpled box that 
seemed to be oozing a thick red liquid at Pip's feet.  Pip nudged 
the box away from her with the toe of her boot, trying to look 
inconspicuous.

"Well, all you had to do was petition to have your theory added to 
the manifest," Cindy said patiently.  "I ought to have a bit of room 
on board for a theory where someone is *beheaded.*  What have you 
got?"

Eloise blinked, unable to comprehend her good fortune at being 
invited to house her Dumbledore theory on Big Bang.  "Well," she 
began," Dumbledore *does* trust Hagrid with his life and Hagrid does 
what Hagrid does -- he fluffs it. Dumbledore dies.  There is weeping 
and wailing and gnashing of teeth and Snape steps in both to protect 
Hagrid from the wrath of the WW and to take credit for the deed 
himself, (it's an 'accident' of course - even Voldemort can't expect 
Snape to go round openly murdering the most respected wizard of the 
age, which would be a bit self-defeating, really) thus 
simultaneously satisfying Voldemort and becoming deeply unpopular 
with the MoM, ordinary wizarding folks and three quarters of the 
school (maybe even McGonagall turning her back on him) though a hero 
to the Malfoys and the rest of the Slytherins."

Eloise drew a sharp breath.  "So there we would have the proof of 
Snape's loyalty and the terrible death all rolled into one neat 
package –- a package containing Albus Dumbledore's very head -- with 
dear Severus' integrity still intact."

There was an awkward silence.

"That's it?" Cindy said quietly.  "You defaced my ship for *that?"

"Uh . . . " Eloise stammered.  "It, er, seemed like a good idea at 
the time."

"Look, I like to be accommodating, so maybe we can do something with 
that theory.  But it can't come aboard in its current condition.  I 
mean, right now it is basically RigorMortis!Dumbledore.  Snape shows 
up with Dumbledore's *head* and takes credit for Dumbledore's 
murder?  And Voldemort is so stupid he can't tell that it's a set-up?

"Nah, let's tweak that just a bit.  Snape needs to *apprehend* 
Dumbledore and deposit him *alive* at Voldemort's feet.  Voldemort 
duels with an old and weary Dumbledore and wins.  That's much more 
Bangy in a  -- " the words caught in Cindy's throat, but she forced 
them out anyway –- "MAGICDISHWASHER kind of way.  Dumbledore lived a 
lie, and now he dies a lie.    

"Now, I'll be the first to admit that this theory has some 
problems.  Having Snape deliver Karkaroff is a lot more solidly 
based in canon.  JKR wants the reader to *loathe* Karkaroff; there 
isn't a sympathetic feature about the man -– weak chin, furs, lazy, 
fruity unctuous voice, informer, the spit -- I mean, *yuk.*  
Dumbledore, on the other hand, is sympathetic.  Readers might not 
fully accept Snape having anything to do with Dumbledore's demise, 
even with Dumbledore's consent.  All things considered, I think if 
anyone will be the price of admission into Voldemort's lair, it will 
be Karkaroff, not Dumbledore.

"Besides," Cindy said icily.  "If Snape manages to deliver 
Dumbledore, will Voldemort be satisfied with that?  Of course not!  
Voldemort will ask for the delivery of Harry Potter, and Snape had 
better deliver the goods, or . . . "  Cindy drew one finger slowly 
across her throat.  "Are you sure that's what you want?"

Eloise paused, glanced nervously at Pip, and gulped.  "Er, can I get 
back to you on that?"

"Oh, of course.  Go back to the Tavern and have a think." Cindy said 
cheerfully, escorting Eloise and Pip to the deck railing.  "Just do 
me one small favor," she said.  

"Take that banner with you."

*************

Cindy

***********

Hypothetic Alley:

http://www.i2k.com/~svderark/lexicon/faq/hypotheticalley.html

Inish Alley:

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/HPforGrownups/database?
method=reportRows&tbl=13