Legal Department - Quirky Contracts

[Prof. Sky Alton]

You arrive for your first day at the legal department to find a member of the events team menacing a very uncomfortable-looking man sitting at a desk.
“And what do you expect me to do, sit there with a hundred packets of Every Flavour Beans, trying to accio the cinnamon ones?” she demands.
“Wel… um… I suppose you could send a polite owl to the manufacturer?” he suggests and the events organiser storms off in disgust.
Once the man has recovered a little, he explains to you that they’re in charge of creating contracts with their authors. This is fairly straightforward for most writers (it’s mostly about how much they’ll be paying them as an advance and how their rights and royalties will be handled). But the really, really successful ones are a little more complicated.
“Star power, you see. They have enough clout to include clauses about things they want at their events or when they visit the office,” he says. “Cecelia Appleyard has just decided that she can’t possibly do a book signing without a bowl of cinnamon Every Flavour Beans.”
Task:
Come up with some things famous wizarding authors might demand in their contracts (the sillier and more outlandish the better). How many you include is up to you but your write up does need to be at least 100 words for full credit.
Post your ideas below by 11:59 PM HOL-time on 26 October. You'll earn 20 beans for this task.

[River Fenwick]

One author, whose book explored the significance of the wood of a person's wand, had it in her contract that practically everything involving her and her book had to be made from the same wood as her wand. The book's pages, any written announcement about the book or the author, and the chairs and tables at any event she would attend had to be made of the same wood. At book signings, it was specified that there must always be a special line for those with a wand made of the same wood as hers, who received priority over the others.

[Aisling Lestrange]

One wizarding author insists that every interview be conducted within a magically conjured storm “for atmosphere” and will only answer questions if accompanied by the distant sound of thunder. Their dressing room must contain precisely thirteen flickering candles, a mirror that flatters “without falsehood,” and a teapot that refills itself with chamomile and moonwater at five-minute intervals. For public readings, they demand a live orchestra to play “ominous waltzes” between chapters, and all attendees must be given protective charms “in case the story escapes its pages.”

[Janne Halla]

Continuing the story of Auroras and Antlers, which also includes its description.


Aksel Korhonen’s contract demands that for every book signing, or similar event, the venue maintain a room temperature no higher than 5°C, apparently 'for authenticity'. He also insists that any office or meeting space have at least one window open at all times, 'so the polar air can remind me where I come from'.

His chair must be oversized, slightly squeaky, and preferably upholstered in forest green, and if he's to do any writing, all ink should be blue, no exceptions, because 'the black ink dulls the colours of Aurora Borealis in my mind'.

A small dish of Chocolate Frogs should always be on his desk, apparently, he needs a morale boost every now and then. He likes a small plush magical creature nearby for moral support as well, preferably something Scandinavian, like a troll or a Swedish Short-Snout, and insists that anyone showing him documents hum quietly to keep the atmosphere 'pleasant'.