I'll bet nobody reads this thing anyway… But if you do, thanks, I love you in a totally platonic way, and please review. As a side note, this fic is something I wrote when I had lots of sugar and I was well caffienated. (Some of the parts in the beginning may seem odd since originally I was going to make this a one shot and write different versions for other series. This is the second one I have written, so I've tried to take out references to the first, but I don't know how successful I was.)
Oh, almost forgot. I don't own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling does.
Geez, honestly I think you'd know that by now.
… I mean really, did you actually think I was going to take credit for all of that?
Truly? Because that's what I think you thought.
… Priceless. Disclaimer
Voices in Their Heads
Prologue
Allow me to introduce myself. I am an invisible entity who bothers people. Some refer to me as "the voice inside their heads". Sure, why not. I just like to see people go insane and in my position, that's called a job skill rather than sadistic.
Chapter 1Day 1, London.
Perfectly horrid weather, but I digress. Ugh, I think I just ate a piece of liver. Hope it wasn't human… According to my… reliable sources, there should be some wizard school 'round here. You know what that means, don't you? Yup! I'm gonna blow things up and bother people. There are very few people in the world who enjoy their line of work as much as I do. I don't see what's so special about this brick wall… tap Ow! Stupid karmic retribution… Wow, crazy people casting spells… Wonder what'll happen if I tip over that box of wands… lookit the pretty colours… Aah… it's nice to have free time. I won't be able to have any real fun until I get to this "Hogwarts", though.
As I wander about the train station, I'm trying to figure out where the hell platform 9 ¾ is. I hate it when people use slang. imagined scene Little kid: goes up to gangsta Mr., what does shiznit mean? Gangsta: pulls out gun shoots kid scene end See what I mean? Oooh! I found it! Wait a minute, what the expletive? It's right between 9 and 10! It should be 9 1/2 , not 9 ¾. Oh, screw it. Right, then. Time to assess the situation. I spy with my little eye…
A blonde kid maliciously glaring at nothing in particular. Note: Poser-evil. Not worth dealing with. A frog being chased by a bake who just tripped over a day planner. Note: Slimy. And the kid, pathetic/forgetful. May look into later. A tray of goodies. Note: yoink munch Three useless twits gathered around a book on how to foil the forces of evil. Notes: British-style overachiever, eunuch-boy the sequel, and would-be-paired-with-poser-evil-if-slash-lemon-fics-were-ever-written-for-this-scenario. Steer clear. Twin red-haired boys playing with explosive candies. Note: Not exactly what I was looking for, but they might be helpful. Time to strike up a conversation. But how to go about this…
"Hi! You seem like the type of devious miscreants that can help me out." They looked up nervously. Oh, crap, I've scared 'em.
"Umm, look, sorry if one of our products had an undesirable side effect…" one started.
"… like turning you invisible, but the merchandise is non refundable. And we did warn you." The other one finished.
"Umm, what the hell are you two going on about?" I think I don't understand these wizard types.
"So you're not an unsatisfied customer?" The one wearing the "F" sweater asked.
"Not quite…" I muttered, trying to change the subject before it went into dangerous territory.
"So then why are you invisible?" There it goes. "And why are you talking to us?" sweater "G" asked. Good point. Why am I an idiot. "Are you wearing an invisibility cloak?" he continued with glee in his eyes. Ow! The bastard just poked me! I swear, if I didn't want to use them, my revenge for that would be oh-so-sweet.
"No, I am not wearing an invisibility cloak, whatever that is, and if you ever touch me again, I will torment you so horribly that the mere mention of my name will bring suffering to the depths of your soul." I said spitefully. I don't like people invading my bubble.
"gulp So, speaking of which, what is your name?" sweater F asked. Dammit. So my wrathful threat did work, but not for long. Umm… a name….
"Richard." I really am trying to act casual here.
"Oh, I know, you're the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, aren't you? I'm Fred, by the way." Defense Against the what's-this-now?
"Uhmm…no. But if you'll excuse me for a moment, I can take care of that." I said with an invisible grin.
"How d'ya mean?" G asked. Ah, might as well let 'em see my handiwork.
"Follow me. Try not to look suspicious." Hmm… I know I saw a door labeled "expendable instructors cabin" somewhere around here… there it is. Fred and Sweater G are looking at me all funny-like. "Err, just stay behind that door. If you hear screaming, it's not my fault. Well, it is, but it's not like I'm going to do anything illegal." The funny looks continue. several minutes later The bum in the cabin walks out muttering something about resignation. Many stares follow the shape. Perfect.
Hey, George, we're almost there." Fred says with joy. As he scuffles through his pocket and pulls out what I am fairly certain is contraband, I look out the window. A gloomy gothic-fantasy castle. And a really big tree. And some horse-ish things. I sincerely hope this is not what Freddy meant when he said "here"… Oh, hell, it is. I just have to ask.
"What are those horse-ish things attached to the carriages?"
George raises his eyebrow. "What are you talking about? There's nothing attached to the carriages." Unable to come up with a proper response, I kick him in the shin. That oughtta teach him to be a smart-ass. The students jump out of the train and head into the carriages, so I follow suit. I overhear some snippets of conversation.
"Oh, those are threstals pulling us." The horse-ish things! They do exist! "Apparently you can only see them if you've seen death." Fred and George overhear the same conversation and their eyes widen.
"You've seen death?"
"Pshh… 'seen'? He's a close friend. Granted, he's pretty easy to upset, but once you get to know him, he's not that bad, really.
They seem afraid now. "Cool!" They say in unison. How unexpected. Finally, someone who appreciates my line of work. "You know," I say happily, "You might just see those horse-ish things next year"