FicWad

"I knew I was condemning you to ten dark and difficult years, Harry, but there were _literary reasons_--"

"Literary what?" broke in Harry. "Sir, that's bollocks, that doesn't make any more sense than your 'Greater Good' did, and that was just something you cobbled together with Grindelwald."

"It means, Harry," bore down Dumbledore with unbroken placidity, "that, as it's in a book, it doesn't _have_ to make sense. The Muggles know this, in fact their organized religions are built around this fact."

"Which means you're worshipping Rowling as a demigod, doesn't it."

"Correct. She is our Author Pendragon."

"I knew I wouldn't escape punnishment somehow," muttered Harry.

The elderly Wizard peered over his spectacles with his usual all-knowing, all-powerful twinkle. "One outbreak of absurdity deserves another, don't you think?"