Cage Match 2010, Round 3: 11) Albus Dumbledore versus 14) Kvothe

As Kvothe sat on the rock, he couldn't help think that, aside from the Rooster from Disney's Robin Hood*, there probably wasn't a cooler lute player in all of existence.

That made him smile.

Across the field, a figure in blue robes was leaning against a large oak tree, apparently stretching out his Achilles tendons.

It would appear I'm not up against a fool, Kvothe thought. But that didn't surprise him. It wasn't as if he'd been up against pushovers in the past two rounds. Granted, he destroyed Garet Jax while cleaning out some mugs--and he'd beaten God by hugging him into submission--but they were still worthy opponents.

Just not powerful enough to deal with the power--or the curse--that he contained.

Strumming his lute for a few more chords, he realized that he had better get this over with. Across the way, the man in blue robes was now waving his hands rather crazily, and Kvothe was pretty sure he was pointing a stick at him and shouting. But Kvothe was lost in the sweet melodies, and had no idea what--if anything--the man with the long beard was saying.

Sighing, he slung the instrument over his shoulder and stood up. Digging into his pocket, he pulled out a piece of parchment. On it were five words:

Why do they always make this so easy?

The figure started walking towards him, and Kvothe raised his hand in greeting (no harm in being polite if I'm going to name him out of existence)... and nothing came out of his mouth.

Wha...?

"Hello, young Master Kvothe! Glorious day, isn't it?"

Kvothe pointed at his mouth, desperately trying to speak.

"Loved that song you were playing," the wizard said. "You're quite talented. Reminds me of the time I did karaoke with this ogress while backpacking through the Continent after my post-graduate studies. Beautiful voice, that girl, we did such a great rendition of 'I've Got You, Babe'..."

Kvothe just stared at the wizard, eyes wide in fear... and confusion.

"Ah, but never mind that. You're probably more interested in why you can't sing anymore." He held up his wand. "Little thing called a 'Silencio' spell. Didn't want you just saying my name and making me 'Poof!' No real sport in that, now is there?"

Kvothe just stared, especially as the man in blue robes held out his hand as if he wanted to shake.

"Albus Dumbledore--but I'm guessing you already knew that, didn't you?" He chuckled. "You really are a clever one. Probably would have done pretty well on your O.W.L.S. if you had attended my school."

Owls? I don't even want to know what this guy thinks I would do to owls.

"In all that research, though, did you ever figure out how a bumbling old fool like myself lived to be one-hundred and twenty-eight years old?"

Kvothe shook his head, glancing left and right to see if there was any chance of escape. But, as Kvothe had thought, Dumbledore was no fool.

"Petrificus Totalus!" Kvothe tightened up, unable to move until Dumbledore stuck his wand into his chest and pushed him over. He crashed to the ground. Dumbledore knelt down beside him, his old man's breath washing over Kvothe's face, heavy with pumpkin juice.

For the first time in these matches, Kvothe felt fear.

"I said, do you want to know how I lasted this long?" Dumbledore smiled, the absent-minded professor look plastered to his face while his blue eyes sparkled--but not mischievously.

Homicidally.

"By eating the hearts of punks who got in my way."

And without another word, Dumbledore formed his hand into the shape of a claw and, chanting Kali Ma!** over and over, pulled Kvothe's beating heart from his chest.

Mouth full of blood, Dumbledore couldn't help think that this would be the best Bertie Botts flavor.

*The Rooster

**The Reference

(Albus Dumbledore is a character from JK Rowling's Harry Potter series; Kvothe is a character from Patrick Rothfuss's novel The Name of the Wind)