Oh.yes. Um, I don't own Harry Potter. I know no one thinks I do, and I know
that everyone (myself included) hates authors notes and disclaimers, but
they might take this down if I don't.sorry.
Making my way back inside the castle, I decided to sleep in an alcove rather then searching out another teacher to stay with. Perhaps Dumbledore would agree to take me once morning came? Either way I truly needed some sleep. My eyes fell shut and I drifted away.
Hours later I awoke to the feeling of a slight poking and the sound of faintly chirping birds. The sun was creeping over the horizon in a brilliant display of orange, pink and light blue. Licking away the dryness from my lips and rubbing the sleep form my eyes I felt the slight tapping again, only this time it was accompanied with a small chuckle and a high pitched "Mr. Potter?"
Looking down I saw a smiling Professor Flitwick poking me lightly with his walking stick. He stood a short 3 and half feet tall, a 2 foot bread hiding most of his reddened face form view. Tubby little lingers holding his walking stick like miniature sausages filled to the brink. The taller I got the more I found myself having to resist the urge to pat him on the head like a great big (ugly) kitten. I didn't think he'd really appreciate that.
"Mr. Potter? Did something go wrong? Who where you staying with?" He squeaked in his little helium filled voice while replacing his tiny little walking stick to his tiny little side. Deep blue eyes twinkling in a very Dumbledore manner. I sometimes wondered if the Headmaster didn't create the Charms Professor after watching Austin Powers. It's the kind of weird muggle thing that Dumbledore would like. But that twinkling was still aimed at me, and I really had to answer him, "I was staying with Professor Sprout, but her plants didn't like me." He seemed to take that as an acceptable excuse, and I found myself wondering if it was a regular occurrence in for Rupert to toss an unsuspecting human out on their rear.
"I don't suppose," he began, "you'd rather stay with me then in the corridor? I don't have any plants, if that helps?" His hidden mouth seemed to twitch upward under a bushy upper lip, and his twinkling increased. Cheeks a Christmas elf red and nobly nose like a mini marshmallow. He not only possessed the kindly grandfather aspects of the headmaster. . . he was just so little and cute! How could I say no to that itty-bitty face? It would no doubt crush him just as much as a misplaced foot. "I'd love to Professor." I replied and began to follow him to his rooms.
The problems began early this time. The door he took me to was a quaint 3 ¾ foot tall. Just enough for the professor and his hat to pass under. It made me slightly nervous, and I must have shifted uncomfortably because he chuckled up at me and assured me that the rooms where not as little as the door. "All you big people! So afraid of a door!" He chuckled out in mirth. Lightly holding his belly with one child like hand as he amused himself with my reaction. When he finished laughing his eyes darkened slightly and a small frown graced his brow as he looked away into space. "No one ever comes in here you know, not once in all my years!" He was looking rather put out now, and I was slightly afraid I had had offended him, but before I could apologise he continued I a much higher and louder voice, "And I know it's because of the door! God forbid anyone be uncomfortable in smaller quarters!" His head was moving with the effort by now, and his arms started to point up at the ceiling (which was high for me and no doubt monstrous for him) "Never mind that I walk around in this ceiling-less maze all day! Breezes like I'm outdoors and no consideration for the fact that my kind like tight spaces!" By this point in his tantrum his voice was filled with resentment and his whole face that Christmas red, rather then just spots on his cheeks and nose. He turned his eyes on me again and pointed his finger at me menacingly. Stubby little digit covered in hair and reminding me of a giant baby. It didn't have the proportions of a childs slender hand, it was the tubby mound of a babys angry fist. "Do you know I don't even have a desk that I fit at? No doubt you've noticed they have me standing on books! A PILE OF BOOKS! I bet if McGonagall shrunk herself she'd get a specially designed desk! But not me!" With that he seemed to calm and realise what he was saying. He took a few calming breaths and looked back at me apologetically, "But that's not your fault, Potter. I assure you it's fine inside." He opened the little door and went in, I found myself too afraid to not follow.
As I bent down I realised I did not want to crawl in on my knees, it was a rather comical thing to do. . . what if he took offence? So I squatted and frog walked in (my knees up at my shoulders as I pretending my thighs did not exist and walked from the knees down, it's a very hard thing to do) very slowly so that I would not tip over as I made my way in. Once past the door I tried to stand, only to go crashing into the ceiling. It was indeed taller then the door. He hadn't lied. At 5 and a half feet high, the ceiling was quite a portion taller then the door, and about half a foot too short for my head.
The small room was circular and cosy, in a very 'little' way. The tables and chairs where all at Professor Flitwicks size, and all doors leading out of it where just as small as the front one. Flitwicks little legs tottered over to a table to deposit his things before he waved me over to a side door (presumably my room) and walked inside, turning back to watch my progress.
My knees slightly bent and my head tilted to the left, I shuffled through the room with a new appreciation for Hagrids life. I did not adequately fit between the couch and the wall, by small hips pushing the chair forward with a scraping noise on the wooden floor boards. When I tried to skirt around the table I knocked a bottle of ink over. I made a mad dash of hands to grab it and replace it and, in doing so, forgot my tilted head position and once again crashed into the ceiling. Only this time, being in the centre of the room, I crashed straight into a mini chandelier and would have hung myself if there had been the room to fall. As it was, I had to detangle my now red blushing cheeks from the crystal strings and hope to god I hadn't broken any of them. No doubt I appeared a tomato trying to hide amongst a tangle of spiders web. The pumpkin like light fitting perfectly engulfing my skull, even as it tilted noticeably to the left. My journey across the room continued. When I reached the door the frowning and glaring eyes of my Professor greeted me. "Not to small for you is it, Potter?"
"No, no! I'm just a clutz! I should have mentioned it, I'm always doing that! Honest!" I tried desperately to sound light hearted and ashamed at the same time. This man was good with charms, the brother of which was curses, who knew what he could do to me should I complain. Perhaps shrink me down to the right size for the room. The idea of anyone shrinking my manhood (weather the rest of me shrunk or not) was a blood chilling prospect and it would be for any teenage boy, I was sure.
His little eyes narrowed suspiciously before he turned tail and retreated back out of the room. So relieved I was that the scrutinising eyes where no longer on me, that I relaxed to much and slammed my head into the ceiling yet again. Hoping to god he hadn't heard me and rubbing my new growing lump (as if I needed anything tenter to grow even closer to the ceiling!) I sat on the bed and decided to lay down. Trekking across such small abodes was tiring work after all.
The bed gave an alarmed squeak and I was too terrified to move. Clearly not made for someone of my size, my feet hung a good two feet of the edge and rested on a shelf in the wardrobe opposite. I feared I would not get out of here without breaking every piece of furniture in sight. But should I say something I could see the little man screaming blue murder form my anti- little people ways. I would have to endure.
Shifting my feet out slowly I managed to only topple one of the little shelves on it's side and, once sitting up on the now screaming-in-agony- because-of-my-weight-bed, I managed to right the shelf with little difficulty. My bag did not fit in the wardrobe, and I did not fit in the bed. Just perfect. A knock sounded at my door before it opened and Flitwick cam in to inspect the crashing noises. His little head slipped past the door jam to inspect any damage before he invited me out to eat breakfast with him.
In the main room again I sat very carefully onto the straining chair and made a very inelegant attempt at eating with shrunken utensils. The knife was to small to get a good enough grip on in order to cut the sausage, and when I pulled it further into my hand the sharp blade sliced into my flesh.
"So, Potter, do you like my quarters?" The little Professor began, eyes down on his meal even as his lips thinned awaiting my response. Panic started to swim in my veins.
"Oh, yes sir!" I answered with as much enthusiasm as I could muster, "They're very. . .quaint." I smiled encouragingly at his still suspicious face. My head nodding enthusiastically in a somewhat deranged way. This was not going well at all. He began to talk again, "So you don't think they're too small?"
"No sir! There cosy." My response was met with a head on stare as the little man put down his utensils to study my closely. "You don't think that everything should be enlarged into a 'normal' size then?"
My heart was beating faster. Was he trying to fight with me? Did he want me to tell him his silly little rooms where ridiculous? That he should just charm himself bigger and be done with it? Because if that was what he wanted. . . well I sure as hell wasn't going to say it! "No sir! Everything seems perfectly normal to me! I grew up in a much smaller place, this is really quite roomy compared to my cupboard!" His little eyes narrowed further. It appeared I had said something wrong. "Your cupboard, Potter. Of course my whole house would be bigger then your cupboard! I suppose you thought I lived in a rabbit hole?"
Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!
"Oh no! The Cupboard was my room, Professor! I just meant. . . that is to say. . . I'm used to being locked in much smaller places. This is really quite roomy for me!"
He stood up so abruptly that his little chair knocked over, "For YOU! Because YOU where 'locked in a cupboard' my rooms don't seem too small? But to a 'normal' person they would! Is that what your saying, Potter? I didn't know you where a bigot!"
I stood up too, my head hitting the ceiling with a loud thud which I tried to ignore as I raised my arms in defeat and what I hoped was a non threatening manner, "No, No! I'm not! I just keep saying the wrong thing! I think I hit my head hard when that vine threw me out! I don't even know what I'm saying!"
We stood staring at each other for a few moments before he seemed to calm down and pulled his chair back up to sit on it. He motioned for me to follow. . . only I forgot to be delicate and the chair crashed under my weight, sending me into a sprawling heap on the floor with what felt like a hundred splinters firmly embedded in my arse.
"I KNEW IT! THAT'S IT! TAKE YOUR BAG AND GET OUT!"
As I stumbled to my feet he tottered over to my room to throw my bag at me, and then started to kick me legs with hard little metal tipped boots as I scampered off the ground and send furniture flying in my rush to get out. I crawled out the door and bolted down the hall like a bat out of hell.
This completely confirmed my theory. The teachers in this school spent too much time here alone. They needed somewhere to go for their brake. They where all far too rooted in their little habits and lives.
The list of people to go to was dwindling. Snape was as the bottom of that list, and second last was firmly held my Trelawney. That left Sinistra and Binns. The living sounded better then the dead. So I made my way up a flight of stares, trying desperately to figure out what could be wrong with the Slytherin woman.
Making my way back inside the castle, I decided to sleep in an alcove rather then searching out another teacher to stay with. Perhaps Dumbledore would agree to take me once morning came? Either way I truly needed some sleep. My eyes fell shut and I drifted away.
Hours later I awoke to the feeling of a slight poking and the sound of faintly chirping birds. The sun was creeping over the horizon in a brilliant display of orange, pink and light blue. Licking away the dryness from my lips and rubbing the sleep form my eyes I felt the slight tapping again, only this time it was accompanied with a small chuckle and a high pitched "Mr. Potter?"
Looking down I saw a smiling Professor Flitwick poking me lightly with his walking stick. He stood a short 3 and half feet tall, a 2 foot bread hiding most of his reddened face form view. Tubby little lingers holding his walking stick like miniature sausages filled to the brink. The taller I got the more I found myself having to resist the urge to pat him on the head like a great big (ugly) kitten. I didn't think he'd really appreciate that.
"Mr. Potter? Did something go wrong? Who where you staying with?" He squeaked in his little helium filled voice while replacing his tiny little walking stick to his tiny little side. Deep blue eyes twinkling in a very Dumbledore manner. I sometimes wondered if the Headmaster didn't create the Charms Professor after watching Austin Powers. It's the kind of weird muggle thing that Dumbledore would like. But that twinkling was still aimed at me, and I really had to answer him, "I was staying with Professor Sprout, but her plants didn't like me." He seemed to take that as an acceptable excuse, and I found myself wondering if it was a regular occurrence in for Rupert to toss an unsuspecting human out on their rear.
"I don't suppose," he began, "you'd rather stay with me then in the corridor? I don't have any plants, if that helps?" His hidden mouth seemed to twitch upward under a bushy upper lip, and his twinkling increased. Cheeks a Christmas elf red and nobly nose like a mini marshmallow. He not only possessed the kindly grandfather aspects of the headmaster. . . he was just so little and cute! How could I say no to that itty-bitty face? It would no doubt crush him just as much as a misplaced foot. "I'd love to Professor." I replied and began to follow him to his rooms.
The problems began early this time. The door he took me to was a quaint 3 ¾ foot tall. Just enough for the professor and his hat to pass under. It made me slightly nervous, and I must have shifted uncomfortably because he chuckled up at me and assured me that the rooms where not as little as the door. "All you big people! So afraid of a door!" He chuckled out in mirth. Lightly holding his belly with one child like hand as he amused himself with my reaction. When he finished laughing his eyes darkened slightly and a small frown graced his brow as he looked away into space. "No one ever comes in here you know, not once in all my years!" He was looking rather put out now, and I was slightly afraid I had had offended him, but before I could apologise he continued I a much higher and louder voice, "And I know it's because of the door! God forbid anyone be uncomfortable in smaller quarters!" His head was moving with the effort by now, and his arms started to point up at the ceiling (which was high for me and no doubt monstrous for him) "Never mind that I walk around in this ceiling-less maze all day! Breezes like I'm outdoors and no consideration for the fact that my kind like tight spaces!" By this point in his tantrum his voice was filled with resentment and his whole face that Christmas red, rather then just spots on his cheeks and nose. He turned his eyes on me again and pointed his finger at me menacingly. Stubby little digit covered in hair and reminding me of a giant baby. It didn't have the proportions of a childs slender hand, it was the tubby mound of a babys angry fist. "Do you know I don't even have a desk that I fit at? No doubt you've noticed they have me standing on books! A PILE OF BOOKS! I bet if McGonagall shrunk herself she'd get a specially designed desk! But not me!" With that he seemed to calm and realise what he was saying. He took a few calming breaths and looked back at me apologetically, "But that's not your fault, Potter. I assure you it's fine inside." He opened the little door and went in, I found myself too afraid to not follow.
As I bent down I realised I did not want to crawl in on my knees, it was a rather comical thing to do. . . what if he took offence? So I squatted and frog walked in (my knees up at my shoulders as I pretending my thighs did not exist and walked from the knees down, it's a very hard thing to do) very slowly so that I would not tip over as I made my way in. Once past the door I tried to stand, only to go crashing into the ceiling. It was indeed taller then the door. He hadn't lied. At 5 and a half feet high, the ceiling was quite a portion taller then the door, and about half a foot too short for my head.
The small room was circular and cosy, in a very 'little' way. The tables and chairs where all at Professor Flitwicks size, and all doors leading out of it where just as small as the front one. Flitwicks little legs tottered over to a table to deposit his things before he waved me over to a side door (presumably my room) and walked inside, turning back to watch my progress.
My knees slightly bent and my head tilted to the left, I shuffled through the room with a new appreciation for Hagrids life. I did not adequately fit between the couch and the wall, by small hips pushing the chair forward with a scraping noise on the wooden floor boards. When I tried to skirt around the table I knocked a bottle of ink over. I made a mad dash of hands to grab it and replace it and, in doing so, forgot my tilted head position and once again crashed into the ceiling. Only this time, being in the centre of the room, I crashed straight into a mini chandelier and would have hung myself if there had been the room to fall. As it was, I had to detangle my now red blushing cheeks from the crystal strings and hope to god I hadn't broken any of them. No doubt I appeared a tomato trying to hide amongst a tangle of spiders web. The pumpkin like light fitting perfectly engulfing my skull, even as it tilted noticeably to the left. My journey across the room continued. When I reached the door the frowning and glaring eyes of my Professor greeted me. "Not to small for you is it, Potter?"
"No, no! I'm just a clutz! I should have mentioned it, I'm always doing that! Honest!" I tried desperately to sound light hearted and ashamed at the same time. This man was good with charms, the brother of which was curses, who knew what he could do to me should I complain. Perhaps shrink me down to the right size for the room. The idea of anyone shrinking my manhood (weather the rest of me shrunk or not) was a blood chilling prospect and it would be for any teenage boy, I was sure.
His little eyes narrowed suspiciously before he turned tail and retreated back out of the room. So relieved I was that the scrutinising eyes where no longer on me, that I relaxed to much and slammed my head into the ceiling yet again. Hoping to god he hadn't heard me and rubbing my new growing lump (as if I needed anything tenter to grow even closer to the ceiling!) I sat on the bed and decided to lay down. Trekking across such small abodes was tiring work after all.
The bed gave an alarmed squeak and I was too terrified to move. Clearly not made for someone of my size, my feet hung a good two feet of the edge and rested on a shelf in the wardrobe opposite. I feared I would not get out of here without breaking every piece of furniture in sight. But should I say something I could see the little man screaming blue murder form my anti- little people ways. I would have to endure.
Shifting my feet out slowly I managed to only topple one of the little shelves on it's side and, once sitting up on the now screaming-in-agony- because-of-my-weight-bed, I managed to right the shelf with little difficulty. My bag did not fit in the wardrobe, and I did not fit in the bed. Just perfect. A knock sounded at my door before it opened and Flitwick cam in to inspect the crashing noises. His little head slipped past the door jam to inspect any damage before he invited me out to eat breakfast with him.
In the main room again I sat very carefully onto the straining chair and made a very inelegant attempt at eating with shrunken utensils. The knife was to small to get a good enough grip on in order to cut the sausage, and when I pulled it further into my hand the sharp blade sliced into my flesh.
"So, Potter, do you like my quarters?" The little Professor began, eyes down on his meal even as his lips thinned awaiting my response. Panic started to swim in my veins.
"Oh, yes sir!" I answered with as much enthusiasm as I could muster, "They're very. . .quaint." I smiled encouragingly at his still suspicious face. My head nodding enthusiastically in a somewhat deranged way. This was not going well at all. He began to talk again, "So you don't think they're too small?"
"No sir! There cosy." My response was met with a head on stare as the little man put down his utensils to study my closely. "You don't think that everything should be enlarged into a 'normal' size then?"
My heart was beating faster. Was he trying to fight with me? Did he want me to tell him his silly little rooms where ridiculous? That he should just charm himself bigger and be done with it? Because if that was what he wanted. . . well I sure as hell wasn't going to say it! "No sir! Everything seems perfectly normal to me! I grew up in a much smaller place, this is really quite roomy compared to my cupboard!" His little eyes narrowed further. It appeared I had said something wrong. "Your cupboard, Potter. Of course my whole house would be bigger then your cupboard! I suppose you thought I lived in a rabbit hole?"
Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!
"Oh no! The Cupboard was my room, Professor! I just meant. . . that is to say. . . I'm used to being locked in much smaller places. This is really quite roomy for me!"
He stood up so abruptly that his little chair knocked over, "For YOU! Because YOU where 'locked in a cupboard' my rooms don't seem too small? But to a 'normal' person they would! Is that what your saying, Potter? I didn't know you where a bigot!"
I stood up too, my head hitting the ceiling with a loud thud which I tried to ignore as I raised my arms in defeat and what I hoped was a non threatening manner, "No, No! I'm not! I just keep saying the wrong thing! I think I hit my head hard when that vine threw me out! I don't even know what I'm saying!"
We stood staring at each other for a few moments before he seemed to calm down and pulled his chair back up to sit on it. He motioned for me to follow. . . only I forgot to be delicate and the chair crashed under my weight, sending me into a sprawling heap on the floor with what felt like a hundred splinters firmly embedded in my arse.
"I KNEW IT! THAT'S IT! TAKE YOUR BAG AND GET OUT!"
As I stumbled to my feet he tottered over to my room to throw my bag at me, and then started to kick me legs with hard little metal tipped boots as I scampered off the ground and send furniture flying in my rush to get out. I crawled out the door and bolted down the hall like a bat out of hell.
This completely confirmed my theory. The teachers in this school spent too much time here alone. They needed somewhere to go for their brake. They where all far too rooted in their little habits and lives.
The list of people to go to was dwindling. Snape was as the bottom of that list, and second last was firmly held my Trelawney. That left Sinistra and Binns. The living sounded better then the dead. So I made my way up a flight of stares, trying desperately to figure out what could be wrong with the Slytherin woman.