FicWad

A/N: Harry Potter has a wood chipper…. A novel approach to destroying horcruxes is introduced, and several people get what’s coming to them. A complete crack!fic one-shot.

Disclaimer: don’t own, no profit being made, intended as parody. Imho, the Asplundh Company makes the world’s best wood chipper, but their products should never be used the way they are in this fic.

***

Harry dragged the large orange muggle device into the center of the courtyard at Hogwarts, sweating and swearing under his breath as he did so. By the time he had it where he wanted and set up, quite the crowd had gathered.

The thing was basically a large orange box, mounted on a single axle. A large triangle-ish bin-thing was on one end, a much smaller square metal neck curved up from the other. A blocky device the muggle-born recognized as an engine sat just behind the bin-thing, and on each side in bold black letters was the word 'Asplundh'.

Hermione took one look at it and quietly disappeared. Ron, being Ron, stood around and spouted off to all and sundry (no one actually listened, except to mock him) about how Harry had finally cracked under pressure, and had obviously gone totally barmy.

Harry looked up at his 'best mate' and grinned. "Oi, Ron!" he called. "Want to see my new toy?"

Ron shrugged and stepped forward. "Sure, Harry. What does it do?"

Harry's grin stretched a little wider. "Just stand right here," Harry said, positioning Ron carefully in front of the bin's opening. "Now, hold still, and don't mind the noise."
Stepping back, Harry tinkered with some controls on the side of the thing (Ron couldn't see what Harry did, no matter how much he craned his neck), and it roared to life with a belch of blue smoke from somewhere on the opposite side. Harry hurried to stand under the neck, directly opposite Ron. Whipping out his wand, he cried 'Accio Dumbarse!’ then ducked and rolled away.

Before Ron could react, Harry's spell yanked him from his feet and into the bin. Immediately a horrible grinding sound was heard, initially accompanied by screaming, which quickly stopped. A few moments later, a stream of red, white and purplish bits began pouring out of the neck of the device, while Ron's feet—no longer wiggling—disappeared into the maw of the thing. Shortly thereafter, the stream of bits diminished, then stopped all together.

Harry calmly walked over and shut off the machine as the crowd stood there, frozen in shock.

"Well, that's one down," he said, grinning madly. "Anybody seen Gin-Gin?"
Seconds later, Harry Potter—the Boy Who Shredded—was alone in the courtyard.

***

Harry had just finished vanishing the pile of Ron bits (well, except for the large, moist reddish-brown spot on the grass, which stubbornly refused to go away) when the littlest Weasley came flouncing up.

“Harry, they said you wanted to see me,” Ginny said, batting her eyes in what she no doubt thought was a coy fashion, but in reality made her look like a Tourette’s sufferer on crack.

“Gin-Gin! Just the person I wanted to see,” Harry smiled broadly. “Did ‘they’ tell you anything else?” he asked, still smiling.

“No, only that you’d just shown Ron something very special, and I needed to get out here as soon as possible,” Ginny said, moving inside Harry’s personal space. “I’d like to show you something special,” she said, her voice dropping into a husky whisper.

Harry shuddered, then pulled his ‘smiley’ mask back into place before his revulsion could show. “Maybe later,” he temporized. “First, you really need to see this,” he went on, dodging a grab at his privates as he led Ginny around to the same spot where Ron had been standing. “Now, just stand here, and don’t move. Oh, and don’t mind the noise, it’s a muggle machine, and you know how they are.”

Nodding and smiling, Ginny did just as Harry said, although she did wince when the machine was cranked once more. She craned her next around to follow Harry as he stepped around to the far side of the machine.

“Harry? Shouldn’t you be over here?” she asked, confused.

“Nope, just stay right where you are,” Harry waved back. Then, suddenly, “Accio Rabid Fan Girl!” he cried, with similar results as before.

“Hmm,” Harry mused. “I don’t know which one had the most girly scream. Oh, well, I can always pensieve the memories later and find out.”

***

A short while later, Harry Potter stood across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, concentrating hard.

I need a room where Tom’s horcruxes are displayed museum-style, he thought for the third time. Looking up he was pleased to see the door to the room appear. Opening the door he stepped in warily, then relaxed as he saw a number of pedestals in two rows stretching back into the room. On each pedestal was a glass case, with an item on a green silk pillow, spotlighted from some hidden light source above. Each was fairly small, except for one large one in the back, which contained a hissing, angry Nagini.

Harry was shocked to see one pedestal contained a picture of him, with his scar glowing faintly.

“Huh,” Harry said. “I wonder when the old coot was going to mention that little bit of info,” he mused. Then, shrugging, “oh, well, worry about that later. Merlin, I’m gonna need a wheelbarrow to carry all this loot.”

A shiny new wheelbarrow appeared in front of Nagini’s glass cage.

“Wicked,” was Harry’s only response.

***

Harry dropped the wheelbarrow carrying the horcruxes (and Nagini’s corpse) in front of the wood chipper’s bin. Firing up the Asplundh, he began feeding them in, huge snake first.

He’d finished destroying the cup, locket, diadem and diary (better safe than sorry), and was about to throw the ring in when Headmaster Albus Dumbledore came running up, day-glow orange and lime robes flapping around his heels.

“Harry, my boy…what…are you doing?” the Headmaster panted, breathless from his sprint. “Where are…Mr. Weasley…and Miss Weasley? And where…did you get those….” The Headmaster trailed off, seeing the ring in Harry’s hand. “Harry! That’s a very dangerous cursed item! Hand it here, immediately!” he demanded, holding out his hand.

“You want it, Dumblewhore? Go get it,” Harry smirked, throwing the ring into the hopper. With a shriek, the Headmaster lunged after the ring, only to find himself caught when the machine snagged the sleeve of his robe.

“Harry, help me!” the ancient wizard cried, feeling himself inexorably pulled into the machine. He’d been told of the Weasley’s fate, but couldn’t bring himself to believe it.

“Nope. Consider this payback for, well, everything,” Harry smirked. “Dursleys, Sirius, Snape, Quirrel, every single stupid year there’s been something. So, enjoy the Asplundh!” Harry snickered, watching the Headmaster’s body disappear into the hopper.

Suddenly the machine shuddered, whined, knocked once, twice, and belched out a huge cloud of greasy black smoke. Then, with one final heave, the ring and Dumbledore’s wand shot out the neck of the device, just as the Hogwarts Potions Master run into the courtyard.

“Potter, 100 points from Gryf…urgh!” Severus Snape said, suddenly finding himself impaled by Dumbledore’s wand. Looking down, Snape wrapped his hand around the handle of the wand and tried to pull it from his chest. Sadly for him, this didn’t turn out too well. The wand began to glow, and this glow rapidly spread across Snape’s body before being drawn back into the wand.

Snape’s cry of agony was mercifully brief, and his body appeared to shrivel in on itself as his magic was absorbed by the wand. In seconds, the greasy git was dead, and the wand was glowing brightly.

Curious, Harry walked over, pausing on the way to bend down and pick up the slightly gooey ring that had also survived the mighty Asplundh. “Gross,” Harry muttered, wiping the ring on his robes, before pocketing it. Stepping up to Snape, he confirmed the Potions Master was indeed dead by kicking him in the crotch. Several times. Very hard. With his steel-toed dragon hide boots (custom made, and well worth the price, in Harry’s opinion).

After a few dozen kicks, Harry decided that Snape probably wasn’t faking it. Reaching out, he took hold of the wand protruding from the git’s chest, gasping as it came easily into his hand. A brief glow surrounded Harry, who shook his head, surprised.

“Whoa! Head rush!” Harry exhaled, feeling a thrill of magic coursing through his body. “I wonder….” he said quietly, then bent down, ripped open Snape’s sleeve and studied the Dark Mark carefully. “Well, why not?” he muttered, then stabbed the wand into the center of the Mark.

Instantly, Harry felt a huge rush of magical energy burst from the wand and into his hand. At the same time, he was vaguely aware of the link between his scar and the Dark Lord flaring to life, and he found himself looking out through Voldemort’s eyes. Around him, Death Eaters were collapsing to the floor as their magic was sucked from their bodies. Voldemort himself was screaming, since he was the conduit through which all of that magical power was flowing. His construct body had never been intended to channel such power, and burst into flames. Yet still, the magic continued to flow, the magic itself keeping Voldemort alive until the last Death Eater was dead. Then, finally, the Dark Lord was reduced to a pile of smoking cinders.

Harry pulled the wand out of Snape’s Mark and fell back on his bum. “YOWZA! OH YEAH! THAT’S THE GOOD STUFF!” he yelled, high as a kite on the magical surge.

“I will take your body for my own, Potter!” a little voice cried out in Harry’s head. It was the last remnant of the Dark Lord, sucked through Snape’s Dark Mark and attracted to the last tiny fragment of soul in Harry’s scar.

Harry just laughed. “Don’t think so, Tom,” Harry said, placing the Elder Wand to his scar. “Accio Dark Lord’s miserable soul!” Harry cried, then pulled.

The pain was incredible, but then again, Harry Potter was no stranger to pain. Now, with the magic of dozens of Death Eaters (and the Dark Lord’s own power) singing through his veins, pulling the evil sod from his head was a relatively simple matter.

Harry wiped the blood and ichor off his forehead then shook his head to clear it. On the tip of Dumbledore’s wand (your wand now, Master, the wand whispered in his mind) was a blob of nasty black-green glop. Harry slung the glop onto the ground, and did the only reasonable thing he could think of: Incendio.

The glob sizzled as it burned, emitting a column of noxious black smoke and one long, terrible scream. Finally, it was over. Nothing remained except a black smudge almost a meter across.

“Well, that was interesting,” Harry said, feeling the wand agree with him. Then, he tilted his head; listening to a voice only he could hear.

“Really? No shit!”

“Oh, come on! You’ve got to be…you are? Merlin’s balls!”

“Okay, I can do that,” Harry nodded, reaching into his pocket for the ring bearing the Resurrection Stone. One quick Reparo and several intricate parseltongue dispels later, Harry slid the ring onto his right hand. He wasn’t surprised when the ring re-sized itself to a perfect fit.

With a sigh, Harry levitated Snape’s body into the Asplundh, then stepped back. “Accio Voldemort’s corpse! Accio Death Eater corpsicles!” The Elder Wand quivered, still bloated with magic, and sent the spell winging across the countryside. Within moments, the bodies of some of the older Slytherin students began arriving, diving into the hopper of the wood chipper.

It took some fifteen minutes for the last corpse to be turned into goo on the pile. Then, his job for the day almost finished, Harry faced the south, raised the Death Stick, and intoned once more.

“Accio Umbitch! Accio Fudge! Accio Dursleys!” A short time later, Harry nodded. With a twitch of his new wand, the courtyard was mostly clean once more.

“My work here is done,” Harry laughed.

The black scorch mark and rusty red spot would take many years to fade.

***

“Oi, Hermione!” Harry called out.

The muggle-born witch spun, her wand out. “You won’t take me that easily!” she screamed, then fired off an Expelliarmus. Harry snickered, dodged the spell easily, and stunned the girl without any difficulty.

“So much for the brightest witch of the age,” Harry said, still snickering.

***

“So, you understand what you’re going to do?” Harry asked the house elf.

“Yes, Master Harry Potter Sir,” Dobby replied. “I is taking this tray of desserts down the hall past the Slytherins, and I is not stopping until I am two floors down.”

“Exactly! Just wait for my signal,” Harry said. Then, he disappeared under the Cloak of Invisibility. Moments later, Draco Malfoy and his two bodyguards came down the hall.

“Go, Dobby,” Harry whispered, and smiled as the elf darted out from his hiding place and past the trio. Immediately Crabb and Goyle chased after the elf with the tray of delicious-looking treats, leaving Malfoy standing there, alone and fuming.

He never saw the stunner that dropped him like a stone.

Some time later, Crabb and Goyle realized that their charge had disappeared. Sadly, by then, it was far too late.

***

Hermione regained consciousness slowly, floating awake gently. Opening her eyes, she saw the ceiling of the hospital wing, beds on either side of her…and Harry Potter sitting there, quietly reading a book.

“Harry!” she croaked, scrambling to move back from the Boy Who Shredded.

“Hey! You’re awake,” Harry was smiling. “Madam Pomphrey said it would be soon, so I decided to wait.”

“So you can kill me?” Hermione gasped.

“What? No! Hermione, I don’t want to kill you. I want to help you!” Harry said, shocked. “I had to clean up some rubbish first, but I’m done with that,” he went on, trying to reassure his friend.

“You…you’re not going to put me into that wood chipper?” Hermione asked, still afraid.

“I swear on my magic that I will not put Hermione Granger into the Asplundh in the courtyard,” Harry said solemnly, letting his magic swirl out so that Hermione could feel it. Of course, he never said anything about another Asplundh, but no one noticed that.

“But…you stunned me,” Hermione said, now thoroughly confused.

“I had to get you here, so Madam Pomphrey could, erm, remove…some things,” Harry said, looking away and blushing.

“Remove…things?” Hermione said carefully. “Harry…what things?”

“Maybe I should get Madam Pomphrey….” Harry began to rise, but was stopped by Hermione’s voice.

“Harry James Potter! You sit down and tell me right now! What things? And where were they?” she barked.

Harry sat, blushing to the tips of his ears. Not for the first time, Hermione found herself noticing just how cute he was when he did that. Of course, she’d also found herself noticing that he was just plain hot when he wasn’t doing something to make him look cute.

Hermione’s woolgathering was abruptly terminated when Harry reached down and lifted first one, then a second large glass specimen jar, like those used to store liter quantities of potions ingredients. In the first was what looked like a small wand, while in the second, a tiny bug floated in preservative fluid.

“These were in you, Hermione,” Harry said. “I’ve suspected it for a long time, but couldn’t do anything about it. Now, I’ve finally had the chance to let Madam Pomphrey do what she’s been wanting to do for ages.”

“Harry…that looks like a wand, and an insect. You’re saying they were…in me?” she asked, almost afraid to know where they had been. Then, with a sneaking suspicion, she noticed that certain parts of her anatomy were slightly tender….

“Harry…was one of those…inside my…colon?” Hermione asked carefully. Not meeting her eyes, Harry nodded. “And the second, was it….” Hermione couldn’t say it.

“Madam Pomphrey said the bug had attached itself to your cervix,” Harry whispered. “She thinks it was secreting chemicals that were absorbed into your bloodstream, and messing with your hormones, among other things.”

“And…the other?” Hermione was trembling slightly, and grabbed Harry’s offered hand without hesitation.

“The stick…it’s actually like a mini-wand…has several charms on it,” Harry said, finally looking into her eyes. “Neither Poppy nor I are quite sure what all of them do, which is why we’ve saved it. Hopefully, the Ministry has people who can analyze it for us.” Or if they don’t, or won’t, then I’ll take a quick trip to Paris, Harry thought.

“So…those things. How long…?” Hermione wanted, needed to know, even though she was terrified of the answer.

“Probably since first year, if not before,” Harry sighed. “Poppy says that both of them have concealing charms on them, but the bug’s appears to be a natural ability. Apparently Dumbledore—or Snape, for some families—always visits certain students during the summer before they begin Hogwarts, and you and Draco,” he jerked his head to another bed where a figure lay sleeping, “were among those in our year who were ‘visited’.”

“Malfoy?” Hermione asked. “You stunned him, too?” she guessed.

“Yeah,” Harry gave her a small grin. “Poppy found two sticks in his bum, which is why he’s still sedated,” he said, then blushed and looked away, only to turn back when Hermione giggled.

“So, I only had one stick up my arse, but Malfoy had two?” she laughed. “Well, that explains a lot,” she said, feeling happiness bubble up inside her. It was…something she hadn’t really felt since….

“That utter bastard! That thing’s been in me since before I came to Hogwarts!” Hermione exploded, only to be held down by her friend.

“Calm down, Hermione; he’s already met the Asplundh,” Harry assured the raging girl. “He can’t hurt you, or me, or anyone, ever again.”

Hermione let herself be calmed down, and if she took the chance to enjoy the feel of Harry Potter holding her, what of it? Finally, she settled back, pulling Harry down to sit on the bed beside her.

“Hermione? What are you…?” Harry asked, plainly confused.

“Something I think those things,” she said, glaring at the stick and bug, “kept me from doing before,” she finished smugly. Then, she laid her head against Harry’s side and exhaled slowly. “I feel…good,” she said, keeping a death-grip on Harry’s arm.

“That’s probably because those things aren’t in you any more,” Harry said. “Madam Pomphrey said it would take you a few days to get used to them being out. She has some mood-stabilizing potions you can take to help with that.”

Hermione ‘hummed’ her agreement, then just sat there, enjoying the feeling of Harry against her. She shifted when he did, until they were both comfortable.

“So, Malfoy?” she asked. “Two sticks?”

“Yeah,” Harry said softly. “I think that’s part of the reason he was so awful to both of us all these years.”

“But why would Dumbledore…?” Hermione began, then stopped. “No, never mind. He probably had some horribly over-complicated, convoluted plan for some nebulous ‘greater good’, didn’t he?”

Harry shrugged, then re-settled against Hermione. “Probably. We’ll never know, and quite frankly, I don’t care at this point. I’m done with that crazy old coot and his plans, and his greater good.”

“And Voldemort?” Hermione asked softly.

“Dead, and all his horcruxes, too,” Harry reassured her. He’d never noticed just how nice Hermione’s hair smelled. “He’s really, finally, truly dead.”

“Good,” Hermione said firmly. Then, a bit nervously, “So, what now?”

“Now, we finish school, and take our NEWTS. After that, I might try to go to Uni. I don’t much fancy being an Auror, or working for the Ministry in any capacity,” Harry sighed.

“Catching up on muggle classes will be hard,” Hermione said gently. “Of course, it would be easier for two of us,” she grinned up at Harry. “We could study together, just like always.”

Harry didn’t answer, but Hermione felt a laugh bubbling up at his return grin. Maybe, just maybe, things were going to be all right, after all.

***

“Potter, a word,” Draco Malfoy called from his bed in the hospital wing.

Harry changed course from Hermione’s bed towards the Malfoy scion, giving his new girlfriend (!!!!) a brief wave. Hermione, seeing where her boyfriend was going, smiled, enjoyed the thrill that went through here every time she realized that Harry was her boyfriend.

Hermione was still reacting to the changes in her mood and attitude, but Madam Pomphrey was pleased with her progress. Hermione found herself able to relax and enjoy herself in ways that she hadn’t done since she was a little girl. No longer was she fixated on her studies, or so uptight about most things in general. Oh, she still cared about her marks, but no longer were they her be-all and end-all. And, Draco had been incredibly subdued ever since he’d awakened. Hermione really wasn’t surprised at all when he called her boyfriend (!!!!) over.

Harry sat down at Draco’s wave and waited patiently for the Slytherin to speak.

“They say the Dark Lord’s dead.” Draco’s voice was soft, but he met Harry’s eyes without flinching.

Harry nodded. “He won’t be coming back this time. I took care of it.”

Draco nodded once, quickly. “My father’s dead, too.”

Harry refused to look away. “All the marked Death Eaters are dead. They died when Voldemort did,” he said. That was nothing but the truth, and he’d not told anyone any details. Merlin knew the Ministry’s representatives had grilled him mercilessly, but he’d used the excuse that Ron, Ginny and Snape had been Marked, so they had to go, along with all the other Death Eaters. Since there wasn’t any evidence to the contrary, the Ministry assumed this had something to do with the final destruction of the Dark Lord. Consequently, no charges had been brought against Harry for ‘doing what needed doing’. As for Dumbledore, Harry had said quite truthfully that the Headmaster tried to interfere with Harry’s destruction of the horcruxes, and basically caused his own death.

Harry kept his mouth shut about acquiring most of the Dark Lord’s power, as well as that of the other Death Eaters. He’d also not said anything about being the new Master of the Deathly Hallows, figuring that what the Ministry didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

“I suppose I owe you my thanks,” Draco was saying, catching Harry off guard.

“Pardon?” Harry asked, surprised.

Draco looked away, composing himself. When he spoke, his voice was almost too low for Harry to hear. “My father was going to present me to the Dark Lord over the summer, and I was going to be forced to take the Mark.”

“I thought that was what you wanted,” was all that Harry could think to say.

“I…I can see why you would think that, Potter,” Draco answered. “You probably won’t believe me, but that was the last thing I wanted. Voldemort was a maniac after he was re-born. I think splitting his soul so much drove him insane, but my father….” he trailed off, sniffed, then continued. “My father was in too deep, and there was no way out for our family.” Draco turned back to Harry, his eyes wet with unshed tears. “You saved my mother and me from more pain than you can imagine. For that, I thank you, Potter,” he said.

“You’re welcome, Malfoy,” Harry said. Then, he smiled and stuck out his hand. “Can we start over? You don’t have those sticks up your arse anymore,” he grinned.

Draco stared at the extended hand for a long moment before a smile blossomed on his face. “I think I’d like that, Potter. Of course, you’re still a Gryffindor git,” he said, teasingly.

“Slytherin ponce,” Harry laughed, shaking Draco’s hand.

The two former enemies laughed together, then Harry took his leave.

***

A search of Dumbledore’s and Snape’s quarters turned up over a dozen of the special mini-wands, which were turned over to the DMLE for analysis. While the full report of this evaluation was never made public, the staff at Hogwarts learned that one of the charms they carried enabled another wizard to produce an Imperious-like effect on their ‘bearers’ with a simple compulsion charm. This charm was not recognized as an Unforgivable, but was even more powerful than Imperio when combined with the magic of the mini-wand. Other charms would amplify certain personality traits to the point of obsession or delusion. Given the length of Dumbledore’s tenure at Hogwarts, the Ministry instituted a policy of mandatory screening for the things for all employees, which St. Mungo’s rapidly adopted, as well.

When word of these mini-wands leaked out, St. Mungo’s was swamped by anxious wizards and witches, demanding they be checked and, if found, that the cursed things be removed. Fortunately, aside from a plethora of bad jokes, there were no long-term complications from having one of Dumbledore’s sticks up one’s arse. Needless to say, the reputation of the former Headmaster was revised downward in short order.

Headmistress McGonagall instructed Poppy Pomphrey to perform medical scans of the entire student body, and remove any foreign objects or infestations she might find.

Ginny Weasley’s trunk contained a number of very interesting potions, as well as letters from her mother about their brewing and uses. There was also a list of young witches who had been ‘guests’ at the Burrow over the years, and Poppy confirmed that all of them either were currently infected by the same insect as Miss Granger, or showed signs of past infection.

The only thing of interest in Ron’s trunk was a mixed stack of Playwizard magizines and pamphlets on magical animal husbandry, especially relating to sheep and goats. The less said about the condition of these, the better.

***

In the very same Daily Prophet that announced the award of an Order of Merlin, First Class to Lord Harry Potter, an article buried on page 17 was overlooked by almost everyone:

WEASLEY MATRON ARRESTED, FACES AZKABAN

Sources in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement report that Molly Weasley of the Burrow, Ottery St. Catchpole, has been arrested following an anonymous tip to the DMLE. An Auror raid on the Burrow resulted in the confiscation of a large number of controlled potions including Amortentia, as well as a number of proscribed animals. Initial reports suggest that Madam Weasley had been supplying love potions to several young witches. Also, a container of Frigidia cervixious beetles were found in a concealed cabinet in the Weasley kitchen.

Aurors suspect that F. cervixious beetles—known as ‘the Frigid Bug’—were being used by Madam Weasley to infect selected young witches to prevent them from becoming ‘Scarlet Women’. Allegedly, Madam Weasley has confessed to this crime, and shows no remorse whatsoever for her actions. Veritiserum confirmation has also resulted in a list of all of the witches involved, and they are being contacted at this time. Interestingly, among the potions that Weasley was illicitly brewing is one which is lethal to the beetle, and causes it to be eliminated from the body of the infected witch at the next menstrual cycle. Fortunately, the removal of the beetle restores the witch’s normal libido, which the presence of the beetle virtually eliminates.

St. Mungo’s tells the Prophet that any witch who has concerns about this infection can make an appointment with their regular healer, or contact St. Mungo’s directly for an examination.

Madam Weasley is expected to be convicted by her own testimony, and to be sentenced to no less than 10 years in Azkaban for her crimes.

FINIS

A/N: This is the fic that I’ve been threatening to write for years. Now, it seems like as good a time as any. As I said, it’s a crack!fic. Yes, the effect of the Death Stick are very similar to Elric’s Stormbringer, this is a hat tip to Mr. Moorcock’s excellent work.

FYI, I also post ‘pre-fics’ that are not quite ready for formal posting on my LiveJournal, where I’m also twistyguru. Come find me, if you’d like. Among my recent postings is a copy of the picture that inspired my Harry Potter/Mary Poppins crossover stories “Harry Potter and the Alternative Tournament” and “Harry Potter and the Inevitable Battle”. For now, these fics can be found on fanfiction.net, under the same nom de plume, twistyguru. Eventually, I hope to post them on this site, as well.