Disclaimer: This is the fourth ficlet
in the series of short little attempts at humour,
though this one falls a bit short of the mark humour-wise.
It is also the third ficlet in the series of short
little randomness bits that somehow involve lyrics from The Scarlet
Pimpernel. That musical truly has a wealth of awesome lyrics to choose
from. But if you can find the lyrics, hugs to you, if not, a double pox on you
as well as the order to scamper off and buy the soundtrack immediately. And the book. And go see the musical. And…
Yes. What say we get on with the ficlet now?
He is.
And he fully deserves what is coming to him.
And I, Dolores Jane Umbridge, had nothing whatsoever to do with it.
Hem-hem.
Look at him standing there, pretending to be scared, with his little knobbly knees and horrid hair and stupid green eyes. He seems to be under the delusion that he is the innocent pet bunny of the wizarding world, which I assure you he most emphatically is not. He has performed illegal magic twice, as a matter of fact, and he is now going to be expelled from Hogwarts, if I have anything to do with it. And, as Undersecretary to the Minister, I certainly do have something to do with it.
Brat.
The Ministry is trying so hard in these horrible days to uphold the standards of moral living and to prevent a panic attack from sweeping the country, and now this little frogwart has taken it into his head to try to collapse everything the Ministry has worked for. Brat.
He deserved those dementors. And they should have kissed him, too, but that boy has been taught infernally well by those that fight against the Ministry and are of a most abnormal species.
I am, of course, speaking of Remus Lupin. He is a werewolf. Imagine; Dumbledore accepted a teacher that is a potential danger to the students! He could have bitten anyone!—during classes, during meals…why don't these creatures get it into their heads that they are not wanted?
He only has one redeeming feature, and that one vanished quite some time ago.
But I have chosen to leave that in the past.
He is, after all, no longer friendly with Sirius Black.
Horrid man.
Horridly good-looking man.
Oh, be quiet, Dolores! The man is a criminal. A criminal. No matter how gorgeously handsome he was at school, he still murdered thirteen people. A criminal!
…A bloody handsome criminal.
I am beginning to dislike the Potter boy even more. He is reminding me of things that I have so far successfully put behind me. I do hope that we will be able to uncover some secret dealings of his with Dumbledore to undermine the Ministry, or something of the sort. I want that thing suspended from the ceiling of my office by his toenails. Then my mornings will at least be satisfactory.
But he might remind me of that occurrence.
Never mind that, then. He rightfully belongs in Azkaban, far away from my sight. Especially with those idiotic green eyes.
I hated Lily Evans.
Correction. I hate Lily Evans.
And Lily Potter.
She was nothing short of disgusting. Her hair was so
abnormally red, and her eyes reminded me of overcooked peas, and her cheekbones
looked as if they would cut through her skin, they were so sharp, and her skin
was so white, you'd think that she never spent any time out of doors
whatsoever…
She must have been a vampire.
Yes. A vampire. That explains her skin. And the reason that I was instinctively disgusted by her.
A men-sucking vampire.
And he was so infernally obsessed with her.
All right, that's it. The past is the past. Done with.
Finite.
Hem-hem.
Why didn't he give up on that slimy little Muggle-born
girl after she started going out with Potter? Why, why, why?
That is it. When I become a teacher at Hogwarts this year, I will do all
I can to make that boy's life a living version of Hell. And, with my "majestic
powers of the toadlike persuasion," I certainly shall
succeed.
Oh, get of my head, you!
Yes. Fine. All right. I was
infatuated with Sirius Black when he was not a criminal, thank you very
much. And, granted, I was quite a few years above him in school. But he was so handsome…
Snap out of it, Dolores!
The long and short of it is that I informed him that he was as resplendent as
the summer sun in my eyes and that I wanted to trot down the same path with
him, hand in hand and skipping lovingly, for the rest of my life, and he and
his idiotic friends burst out laughing. Not just laughing, either. They cackled.
Hysterically. And then they said some very
unpleasant things involving my head and where I should stick it, and then there
were more comments on my ancestress being the frog prince, and things
escalated.
Sniff.
That is done with; it is in the past, and I am going to teach at
Hogwarts, where there will hopefully be a most wonderful selection of fit men
to choose from. However, the giant-man will stay away from me or else I will
hex him into Bolivia.
I know perfectly well that I am rather attractive, but that is no reason for
half-breeds to throw themselves at me.
Hmm.
Fit men at Hogwarts…
Dumbledore is a batty old crank. Besides, he is traitorous.
Filch is…eurgh
Flitwick is too short. I do not feel inclined to
striking up affairs with short old men whose ears could comfortably waggle
around my knees.
Severus Snape teaches at
Hogwarts.
Oh, no..
Please tell me that he is not the only semi-attractive and somewhat young man
at Hogwarts. I may very well have to kill myself if he is.
Or I could just kill Potter.
That could be arranged.
Will prepare to think up new and ingenious forms of fatal
torture to the brat immediately.
Hahahaha.
Vengeance victorious; these are the glorious days!
Potter is going to die.
