AN: This story has been written by me and my best friend Blueribon (go check out her fics!). We wish we could blame this story on the Kopparberg, but the truth is we started writing this before we started drinking. Cookies to whoever guesses from whose point of view this story is told, let us know who you think it is in your review. Enjoy!
DISCLAIMER: Anything you recognise does not belong to us.
She wasn't sure how she came to be there, she was a quiet sort by nature, preferred the outdoors, a cool breeze in her wings and the light patter of rain on her head. But there she was. Dry as a bone, with the only wind to be had coming from Dumbledore. It was not as fresh as she would have wished.
Nobody bothered to say 'hello' to her, or 'how do you do', or 'please', and 'thank you'. They just shouted nonsense at her, with the odd profanity mixed in.
"Cockroach clusters!"
"Liquorish wands!"
"Open you worthless piece of rock!" they screeched at her.
As if the noise during the day wasn't bad enough, at night the pale light of the moon kept her company no longer. The harsh light from the sticks the people held as they approached her at all hours, and the continual flicker from the surrounding sconces allowed her no rest. All day long she watched people go openly about their business, and at night she observed them creeping and sneaking.
There have been times before when Dumbledore has left, but none so vexing as this. An odious amphibious female stood before me today. The hour was late and most of the residents were tucked up in bed snoring, but not her. She observed me carefully for a while. Contemplating. The clicking of her talons as regular as the seconds.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Click.
"Hm hm." The female her cleared her throat. "I am the new headmistress of Hogwarts, and I insist you step aside."
"I am disinclined to acquiesce to your request." I replied.
The female squealed "It speaks!"
"I most certainly do, you webbed footed, loud mouthed, flaming fuchsia flamingo!"
"See here! You shall not speak to me in such a manner! I am headmistress!" said the female straightening her shoulders.
"Are you? Are you really? Then you should know the password. Look inside your tiny mind…now look a bit harder."
The female glared at me. "I have been appointed by the Minister of Magic himself, Cornelius Fudge!"
I remained unmoved and was unwittingly entered into a staring contest with her. Her face started turning a most peculiar shade of puce.
"Why you crumbling piece of stone! You will let me in or I'll have Filch put you in the forest, and you can be a scratching post for the filthy werewolves and beasts out there!"
"You are just a racist who can't tie my laces…your point of view is medieval! Save my blessed beak! Anyone would think you were Slytherin himself, the old goat!"
"If you think I'm insulted about being compared to Salazar Slytherin, you are greatly mistaken! I had the honour of being in that great wizard's house!"
"He was a great pain in my ass, that's what he was!" I snorted.
"Let me in!" She bellowed, showering me in spittle, her face now an alarming shade of red.
"Don't cough up a hairball, dear. I have but one job. No password? No entry!"
Taking in a deep breath, her head started shaking, and I imagined I saw steam coming out of her ears before she turned sharply on her heels and roared "FILCH! BRING ME MY SLEDGEHAMMER!"
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