Title: Snowballs
Author: darkmoon666
Pairing: None
Summary: Takes place before Winter Break, first year: Fred and George cause chaos wherever they go, especially armed with snowballs. Their target is Quirrell's turban.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or his friends, his enemies, and the many other people who make his world fun to write about.
Ouch, the voice murmured in the professor's ear. The man's head tilted forward with the force of the hit.
Ouch! The voice exclaimed again.
The professor rubbed his covered ears with trembling hands. His eyebrows furrowed angrily at the snow-covered grounds as he walked up the snow-covered path to the castle.
Another whallop to his turban. Oh for Merlin's sake, MAKE THEM STOP!
"I can't master, I can't make them stop or people will get suspicious of p-p-poor st-stuttering P-p-professor Qui-Quirrell," said professor recited in a whisper.
Give them a detention or SOMEthing! The voice was quite angry, as its face was pressed into the back of Quirrell's garlic-scented turban that happened to be the target of snowballs.
Quirrell's hands rose again to rub at his temples. His head jerked forward with the force of the snowballs. For once, the man was happy he had researched sticking spells; it wouldn't do for his turban to fall off and reveal Lord Voldemort's face to the school, now, would it?
Again and again the snowballs hit him, regardless of how fast he walked up to the castle. Quirrell began wishing he had decided to stay in the castle rather than go down to Hogsmeade for a warm butter beer.
The front doors in sight, Quirrell slowed his walking. He wanted to make sure the offenders were a bit closer to him, though the increased closeness brought a harder impact with the back of his head. He stopped his forward movement and spun on one heel, flinging snow from the back of his cape.
The force, as well as the added weight from the turban atop his head, nearly had him spin in a complete circle, but Quirrell managed to stop his body before he created an even bigger fool of himself. "That is qu-quite enough, Mis-ster and Mi-ister We-Weasley," he told the twins in as firm a voice as he could make, especially with the stutter.
Fred and George Weasley were frozen, medium-sized snowballs gripped in both hands.
"De-detention tonight-t," Quirrell told them. He turned to face the castle and started walking back, a small, pleased smile adorning his face.
Four rapid thumps on his turban, along with a muffled shout of hey had Quirrell calling back over his shoulder, "Ma-make those t-two nights, Mist-ters Weasle-ey."
Ignoring their splutters, Professor Quirrell headed back to the castle, unknowing of the fate that would soon kill him in a few months' time.
Voldemort, too, was unknowing that he'd need to find a new host some time soon.
If you can tell me where this came from, then you are welcome to a cookie. Yes, that's a bribe to get you to review.
~Moony