This chapter was requested by a friend of mine - we were on the phone yesterday and this came out and we laughed ourselves til death. Figuratively. Terribly stupid, but it was so funny yesterday, and I had fun writing it
Poke.
Poke.
Poke.
Poke.
Hermione Granger's malicious eyes suddenly appeared in front of her, gigantic, twinkling with happiness.
Poke.
Poke.
Crap! Break, glass, break!
'That's never – you're kidding –'
'No, I'm not. I caught her on the window-sill in the hospital wing. Look very closely, and you'll notice the markings around her antennae are exactly like those foul glasses she wears.'
Foul?!
POKE.
The beetle buzzed angrily, trying to smash the glass. She'll teach her what foul meant – oh, the stories she would write when she got out of there...!
Her glasses were fine, extremely fine! Sense of fashion, it was called! Unlike the horrible sweaters and shirts Granger used – she was a diva! And now a bushy-haired, big, fat, scarlet woman that loved to toy with boys was keeping her prisoner in a jar!
'I've told her I'll let her out when we get back to London. I've put an Unbreakable Charm on the jar, you see, so she can't transform. And I've told her she's to keep her quill to herself for a whole year. See if she can't break the habit of writing horrible lies about people.'
POKE.
POKE.
POKE.
Big fat bitch! You'll see what 'horrible lies' really mean! You have defied the mighty Rita Skeeter! You can never get away with it!
POKE.
POKE.
POKE.
Oh, when she got out of that darn jar – the power of Skeeter would fall over her! The power of the quill! The power of journalism!
POKE.
The power of fashion!
POKE.
The power of beetles!
POKE.
The power of –!
The jar fell abruptly through a hole, and the beetle smashed against the bottom of the jar.
POKE POKE POKE POKE POKE POKE.
But it was senseless – Hermione's bag had closed and she was surrounded in complete darkness.