A Love of Quills

This is a General Fanfiction (meaning that there is no romance, no sexy-times, and no extreme acts of violence....generally). It would be rated E if it were a videogame, G if it were a movie, and K+ if it were on fanfiction.net. 

A Love of Quills

A Harry Potter Fanfiction

Disclaimer: I made no gain (and in fact lost about an hour of sleep) writing this. All (except Chester and the distressed mailroom attendant) belongs to JK Rowling. It’s just a bit of fun. 

Mr. Chester E. Tweedson worked on the twenty-seventh floor of a paper clip manufacturing company: H.R. Wittenclips. Mr. Tweedson worked as a clerk, filing all sorts of important documents ranging from receipts of large shipments to the recent patents of the newly developed “star-shaped” paperclip that was making great headway in marketing their products to pre-teen, adolescent female consumers.

Chester had no interest in that, of course. While he went about is rather meaningless job day in and day out, there was one thing of which Mr. Tweedson was sure. 

Mr. Chester E. Tweedson was a Death Eater. 

Or, rather, he wasn’t a Death Eater yet. Soon, however, there would be no doubt. Chester was loyal, and devoted to the entire idea of what this Lord Voldemort was all about.

He said this to his fellow colleagues daily, when they could spare the time from talking about their girlfriends and dogs to lend ear to his thoughts (of which he personally thought were of a higher, more sophisticated nature than these frivolous relationships). 

If Chester were totally honest, however, he did not actually know much about the Death Eaters at all. All he knew about the Death Eaters was that they were apparently making great headway in marketing a pencil called a “Quill.”

One of Tweedson’s greatest hobbies was collecting old fashioned writing implements and papers (he had a papyrus scroll framed above his toilet at home). The idea of a company bringing back the “Quill” into modern times was a genius step in the right direction.

There were other qualities of this strangely named company that pleased him. Their mission statement was to “Officially wipe out and control all Muggles and Mudbloods for the rest of eternity.”

Well, that seemed quite alright to Chester. He didn’t quite know what a “Muggle” was, but he assumed it was new-fashioned lingo regarding those awful ink blots that pens now-a-days seemed to leave behind. 

Chester didn’t need to have much of an imagination (thank goodness) to understand what a Mudblood was, as he was sure he’d had to go back and fix many a “Mudblood” on his own documents with H.R. Wittenclips.

The Death Eaters had the strings of Chester E. Tweedson’s heart, and he made it his absolute mission to become a part of this group. Paperclips were fine and good, but Chester’s ambitions were bigger than that. 

Approximately three or four inches bigger.

Chester wrote a magnificent cover letter to the Death Eaters, stating his love for not only the mission of the group, but the pro-active methods they were using to eradicate the muggles and mudbloods from the country—if not the world—with obliteration and purification.

He signed  his name neatly with an, “Anticipating acceptance into your Death Eater ranks,” and mailed it off approximately one week and a half ago.

Chester did not twiddle his thumbs while he waited, however. Every day, he worked in the office and told his co-workers about his new prospective job, and watched as they worked to conceal their jealousy by generally ignoring him. He pitied them their sorry lot in life, for the life of a Death Eater is far grander than that of a simple paper-clip clerk.

He was imaginably surprised when a man with a frightening looking cane, long blonde hair, and questionable dress sense apparantly just “appeared” in the lobby, requesting the audience of one Mr. Chester E. Tweedson.

“Hello,” Chester said as he settled down at his desk once the man, apparently named Lucius Malfoy , was brought to his cubicle. He brushed the papers from the visitor’s chair made of orange plastic and offered the seat to the blonde man, pretending not to notice the look of disgust on Mr. Malfoy’s face in favor of asking him what he wanted and how he could help.

“I am here on business….Mister Tweedson,” Lucius Malfoy said, in tones closer to that of royalty than a business man. 

Chester must have looked confused because the man pulled open what had all the appearances to be a grand cloak and pulled out an opened envelope. “Did you, or did you not, send this letter one week from this past Tuesday?”

Chester nearly gasped. It was his letter to the Death Eaters!

“Oh, yes sir!” Chester quickly answered, nodding his head.

“I see,” Mr. Malfoy said, putting the letter down and folding his hands. “So…you wish to become a Death Eater?”

Chester could only nod.

“You wish to vanquish muggles?”

Again, Chester nodded. He added. “Damn muggles.”

Mr. Malfoy raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

Encouraged, Chester said, “They ruin everything. You work and you work and everything is perfect and then one small speck of ink on the page and suddenly all the beautiful work you’ve done has been utterly ruined.” 

Lucius Malfoy looked a bit stunned. Chester asked if he’d like a cup of tea. 

“How did you find out about us?” he asked, instead.

“Your website,” Chester responded, a bit shyly. “Although your name seems a bit terrifying, I do think you all have your heads screwed on right.” 

“Our website?” Mr. Malfoy asked as if Chester had five heads. 

Lucius Malfoy’s tone worried Chester. Obviously, he had to prove to the oddly dressed fellow that he was just as dedicated to the cause as he was.

“Please, sir, I know that it seems like I haven’t done my research, but I have! Really I have. If you just give me a chance, I could be a great asset to your cause.” Chester really hadn’t done much research about the Death Eaters, but their website had seemed so perfect that he could not help but apply. 

Lucius Malfoy remained quiet for a moment. Chester’s palms were getting particularly sweaty. 

“I will speak with my superior,” the blonde man said, standing up. “And I will see what I can do for your particular…situation.” 

Chester bowed his head, thanked the man profusely, and did not let the man leave until he took some of the biscuits his mum had provided him from her (and secretly his) favorite tea shop. The blonde man seemed reluctant, but admitted in his regal way that they were quite delicious. 

Lucius Malfoy left Chester Tweedson’s office with three biscuits and a promise to the man to speak to Lord Voldemort for him. 

Two days later, a short missive was sent to Chester. According to a rather traumatized mailroom attendant, it had been sent by an owl. 

“Strange,” Chester agreed, and waited until he was in his cubicle to rip open the letter.

“Mr. Tweedson,
You are invited to our next meeting this upcoming Friday. I will escort you to the location. Please, for sake of secrecy, do not tell anyone of this.

Welcome to the Elite,
L. Malfoy.”

Chester could not wait.