Stop That Toad!
Where to hide, where to hide? Trevor the toad looked around wildly, desperately searching for a place where The Thing wouldn't look. But where? The Thing (Trevor had learned rather recently that said Thing was actually a 'boy' (whatever that was) named Neville Longbottom, but whatever, habits are hard to break.) looked everywhere, and in six years had discovered most of the everywhere there was on this stupid 'train' thing. And he could always find Trevor, no matter what amazing hiding spot the toad had found. There was almost no question of moving, either, since The Thing could always spot movement. Hmm… To hop or not to hop, that was the question.
Actually, the whole hiding thing was rather pointless, as The Thing often forgot where he had put Trevor, and there was much less effort involved when you just sat in your cage, as opposed to hopping around like a maniac. Ah, well. Hiding wasn't so hard, because it is much easier to blend in when you're small and mud-colored, though The Thing had started to take that into account. When he remembered, anyway. Those 'human' things must have a difficult time hiding, especially ones like Neville The Thing. With that dark 'hair' that stood out so much, and considering how tall he was, it was a wonder he could get any where without being spotted and put into a cage himself. Not to mention how pudgy he was. Trevor knew that if he had ever gotten so unnaturally fat, Mama Toad would have boiled him alive.
A foot landed rather too close to the seat Trevor was hiding under. Hopping it was. Trevor crawled out from under the seat, looking about him as stealthily as a toad may. Why did he not just hop away, you ask? Well, you try hopping with the ceiling an inch above your head. It hurts, doesn't it? Now don't ask such silly questions.
Speaking of silly, even if one of the search party had actually happened to see Trevor at that moment, they would have started laughing so hard the toad would have been able to jump on them in order to get away, without them even noticing.
Be that as it may, Trevor's stealth was pointless, as there was no one there either to see or be seen. Puzzled, Trevor looked around. The foot which had scared him so badly was nothing but an old box of – what were those?!?! He quickly hopped over. Were those dead toads covered in chocolate?!? How barbaric! Oh, no, they were frogs. Well, Trevor didn't like those in the first place. He wondered how they would taste with chocolate…?
Footsteps in the corridor reminded Trevor that he really did not have time to experiment with chocolate frogs. He turned and hopped out through the partially open door. Taking one last glance around, he began to hop. Hop, hop, hop, hop… Oh, look, this must be where those frogs came from, because there are more here. Did he really want to try them? Nah.
Oh, wonderful. Flies. Sweet and salty at the same time, and oh, what a lovely crunch…
We shall take a short break while Trevor thinks about eating flies. Unless you really wanted to hear? Didn't think so.
Five hours later…
The train seemed to be slowing down. The lovely sound of screeching wheels was usually Trevor's cue to go and find The Thing if they hadn't found him already, and now was no exception. He turned and began the bouncy journey back along the train. The reader will no doubt be bored to tears by the mere mention of more flies, so we shall skip that part of the story, shall we?
The Thing was waiting at the exit of the train. Hmm…maybe Trevor was getting a wee bit – predictable? No, never. Though maybe this had been how it happened for the past three years… Nah.
So Neville the Thing and Trevor his toad went off to another exciting year of 'school', whistling all the way. Well, and thinking about places to hide from Mrs. Norris…