( This is a work of fanfiction. Harry Potter is owned by J. K. Rowling...I just mess with it.)
Dumbledore clasped his hands behind his back, and sighed deeply, as he gazed at the long line of witches and wizards stretched across the lawn, cash in hand.
A sickle was a sickle, wasn't it? And the school was benefitting from this new source of funding.
It had been a little over a month since the Whomping Willow had developed the disquieting habit of depantsing people, and giving them a swat to the fanny.
So many people.. and they all looked so happy.
The old wizard smiled, and made a little shrug before going back to his duties..who was he to interfere with the magic of nature?