Chapter Seventy-seven
Minverva McTabby said:
Though if you care to send her back in time another 140 years or so, I know an OC boy who would be delighted to help her discover her adult Animagus form. And she might even end up becoming Tom Riddle's grandmother, just to complicate matters even further.
I read your stories, and you have very nice spelling and grammar. Does this have something to do with The Guy with the Eye? (Psst: One of your characters in that story is named Mary-Sue. I guess this is not a good name to choose.) If not, I really, really like crossovers. Oh, now my brain is going to explode. If Araminta went back in time, and became Tom Riddle's grandmother, what if she went back to her regular time before she had the baby? Oh, and then what if Harry is really Tom's son, but she's married to Harry and having Tom's grandson (also his grandfather)? At least he'd be hot!
Alison Harvey said:
add more makeovers
Hang in there. There's at least one more!
knitter said:
this would be a super entry
How flattering. It's more than a sentence long, though, and thus would be disqualified.
burgundyred said:
would like to apologize for my mistake on Flint
I thought it was cute--a Flint about a Flint. ^_-
Snape extended his hand to Araminta. "Shall we?"
Araminta nodded a response. She began to count to herself: and one and two and three step together... She held her head tall on her neck, her back straight, and quelled the urge to lead, trusting that Snape would steer them through the awful crush.
"How are you enjoying the evening?" Araminta asked politely.
Snape smiled, revealing that he'd transfigured his canines to match the rest of his costume. "Would you believe that there is an animal with so much neck, one might never tire of biting it? As for the rest, I chased seven students out of the Astronomy Tower, stopped Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum from spiking the punch, and forced the lute player to tune the damn thing."
"Quite satisfying, then." Araminta checked to make sure that Hermione was still lurking in her alcove. She was; now, she appeared to be knitting something with very sharp, shiny needles. They gave Araminta the heebie-jeebies.
"Ready?" Snape tilted her backward into a dramatic dip. "Guuuuuuuh," he moaned, dropping Araminta on her derriere.
"Ouch, you jerk," she yelled at Snape. He put his arms around his bulging stomach and grimaced. "Oh, you big baby."
"The problem," he snarled, "is the little one."
"Dear Merlin!" Araminta exclaimed. She slung Snape's arm over her shoulder. "Come on. Hospital wing," she grunted. Snape certainly hadn't gotten any more graceful since she'd last helped him walk (chapter fifty-five). After the initial panic subsided, Araminta found her wits and magicked a stretcher for Snape (which sped things up considerably).
She levitated the moaning, groaning, and generally grumpy wizard through the corridors to the hospital wing, which was dark and conspicuously deserted. "Madam Pomfrey! Come quick!" Araminta cried as she transferred Snape to an empty bed.
"Argh!" Snape ejaculated. "I think I'm going to be rendered in two!"
"Shh. Madam Pomfrey will make everything all right. Just try to relax."
"Relax?" A vein throbbed in Snape's forehead. "How am I supposed to relax when an evil demon is trying to claw its way past my intestines?"
Araminta patted his hand reassuringly. "Don't worry about a thing. Do you know what Madam Pomfrey is wearing?"
"Of course...oh, oh, ow...not," Snape replied.
"Well, then, I'll just go and look--"
"No!" Snape clutched at her arm. "Don't leave me here alone! Ooooh, please, please...make it stop..."
"All right." Araminta looked around the room for help.
Hedwig, Harry's owl, had flown into the room and was inspecting a carefully made-up bed. Araminta crossed the floor and picked up the chart. It read: "Reserved for Harry Potter, as he generally shows up injured after important Hogwarts events."
"Hedwig! Be a dear and take this to Madam Pomfrey, won't you?" She scribbled a cryptic note: Too late for Potions Master; need extraction assistance immediately in Hospital Wing. Emergency! Hedwig held out her leg for the scroll, and took off with a hoot.
Snape's wailing grew ever louder. "I want...someone else's mommy," he cried. "I'm going to kill Parkinson for this."
"It takes two to tango, or have you forgotten about the Quidditch Ball already?" Araminta asked, annoyed.
"She told me," Snape panted, "that...that she just wanted to put her finger there to get the lint out, and aaaaaaah."
"Breathe. Like a puppy. Ha, ha, ha," Araminta demonstrated.
"No! That sounds like laughing, and Snapes do not laugh!"
"They don't when they've turned blue and passed out." Araminta decided that it was time for some tough love. "Madam Pomfrey will be here any minute, so you can stop whining."
Hedwig soared back into the room and dropped a scroll into Araminta's lap. "Hey, this was for Madam Pomfrey..." She looked at the address. It was now overlaid with a stamp that read 'return to sender, addressee in disguise.'
"No," Araminta whispered.
"Araminta," Snape cried, arching his back and squeezing his eyes shut. "You'll have to do it. You'll have to deliver this baby."
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