Lack of Talent.

By Adrian Tullberg

Professor Snape stood up at the Judge's table. From time immemorial, whenever a triumvirate of judges were used to determine a talent contestant's abilities, one must be absolutely guaranteed to be an absolute bastard.

Needless to say, he was roped into this little fiasco every year, and forced to listen to whoever in Hogwarts thought they possessed talent.

Although, times like this reduced the pain.

"The Boy Who Lived ... Shouldn't."

Potter lowered the microphone, confused. The audience muttered.

Give it two seconds for the sentence to sink in - then complete it.

"Sing."

Potter blinked, momentarily stunned.

Those who felt an iota of remorse would leave it at that.

"We have been witness to an act of savage butchery. This ..." Snape glanced at the callsheet. "Stevie Wonder has had his 'Isn't She Lovely' brutally tortured and publicly murdered. If it was a person, we would be calling the authorities, not unblocking our ears."

There was a growing mortification in Potter's expression that needed more careful nurturing.

"May I add, that in all my years, as student and teacher in these halls, I can think of no charm, spell or artefact that can solve Mr. Potter's lack of ability, just the judicious application of needle, thread and ..." What was the name of that device? "... a staple gun."

Potter shuffled off the stage, defeated.

Ron Weasley moved up, and took the microphone. Snape wondered wether it was worth the bother to even listen ...