Author's Note: The following is completely odd in every way. If you wish
not to hurt your gut, I suggest you not read. Although, you might not be
laughing... Hm. I guess it depends on who's reading it... Well, read this
anyways.
Chappy Dos
Even though I'm in a coma (and I don't know it) I still feel pain as I'm tripped in the hall of the train. I have a large carpet burn now. It is red, and it—uh—burns. Sirius (who is extremely handsome, I might say) turns around. I also turn around after I stand up. There are two kids, bent over in laughter. I don't see what's so funny! I mean any thickheaded person could fall for being tripped—hey... wait a second! Oh well, the point is, someone falling isn't so funny two gits have to lean over in hysterical laughter. But I don't realize my soon-to-be miniature cow is out of its cage scratching me. In fact, I don't realize how I could miss that. I shake the soon-to-be cow off. I say, "Bad Mergatroid!" Then I smile and yell; "I NAMED HIM!" The six boys stare at me like I'm crazy (a true statement that everyone should remember—or not). I grin, pointing at the soon-to-be cow. "His name is Mergatroid. Merggy for short!" They still gape at me. My attention turns to the two boys. One has slicked-back blonde hair and pale eyes. The other has chin-length, greasy, black hair. I frown and walk over. "What choo's name?" I ask, as if I was Stan, the Knight Bus director. They have no idea who I'm acting like though, because he hasn't been born in past Harry Potter world. I poke the greasy-haired kid. "Huh?"
He rubs his arm from the nasty poke that I poked upon him. "Severus Snape," he answers. I start to laugh, and I'm surprised to hear laughter of the four kids behind me. I walk over to the blonde haired kid and examine him for a moment. I poke him with an evil laugh. The five stare at me, all laughter gone, except for my evil laugh that continues until I'm out of breath. Then I stop abruptly.
"So, what's your name?" I ask. I tilt my head this way, that way, this way, that way, so on and so forth. He finally answers.
"Lucius Malfoy." Once again there is a roar of laughter. I am not laughing, though. I am staring blankly at him.
"'Mal' means 'bad' and 'foy' means 'faith.' Therefore, you are Mr. Badfaith." More stares.
"Is she always like this?" Mr. Badfaith asks. Sirius and Remus and James nod. "You're annoying." He directs this to me.
I yell, "Okay, Mr. Badfaith!" He gives a frustrated sigh. He starts to say something cutting him off by yelling, "MR. BADFAITH!!!!" He slapped his forehead. "Okay, enough of this, I am bored." I walk into a compartment and see two trunks, bearing the names of the two. I thrust them out of the compartment. There are yells from outside. A moment later, screams, then the four friends of mine walk in. "Took you long enough." I grin and take out a copy of The Quibbler. They sit down; watching me read the most unpopular magazine. I scream and throw it out of the window. "EVILNESS!" The sudden sound makes Peter fall from his seat and everyone else jump.
"What is it?" Sirius asks.
"England lost the Quidditch Cup."
"I knew that ages ago."
"So did I, when I went to the game thingy."
"Did I see you there?"
"No."
"Did you see her, James?"
"No," he said. "I was busy goggling at the new brooms they were riding. Cleansweep 60!" I laugh.
"They aren't as good as the Firebolt."
"The what?" James and Sirius look at me quizzically. I hit my head.
"I need to shut up about those..."
"What are they?"
"Nothing." I grin and they eye me, carefully. "Hey look! The snack cart thing! Be right back." I stand up and walk out to the trolly. I walk back in with loads of treats. "I have a contest for you."
"What?" Peter asks, eyeing the candy.
"It dosen't include you. Now, I want to see who can eat certain amounts of this—" I put the candy in the seat "—in the least amount of time." I see hate in Peter's eyes. I ignore it. "Okay... let me see how we shall do this." I sit and start to think. They wait as our little train ride progresses.
Chappy Dos
Even though I'm in a coma (and I don't know it) I still feel pain as I'm tripped in the hall of the train. I have a large carpet burn now. It is red, and it—uh—burns. Sirius (who is extremely handsome, I might say) turns around. I also turn around after I stand up. There are two kids, bent over in laughter. I don't see what's so funny! I mean any thickheaded person could fall for being tripped—hey... wait a second! Oh well, the point is, someone falling isn't so funny two gits have to lean over in hysterical laughter. But I don't realize my soon-to-be miniature cow is out of its cage scratching me. In fact, I don't realize how I could miss that. I shake the soon-to-be cow off. I say, "Bad Mergatroid!" Then I smile and yell; "I NAMED HIM!" The six boys stare at me like I'm crazy (a true statement that everyone should remember—or not). I grin, pointing at the soon-to-be cow. "His name is Mergatroid. Merggy for short!" They still gape at me. My attention turns to the two boys. One has slicked-back blonde hair and pale eyes. The other has chin-length, greasy, black hair. I frown and walk over. "What choo's name?" I ask, as if I was Stan, the Knight Bus director. They have no idea who I'm acting like though, because he hasn't been born in past Harry Potter world. I poke the greasy-haired kid. "Huh?"
He rubs his arm from the nasty poke that I poked upon him. "Severus Snape," he answers. I start to laugh, and I'm surprised to hear laughter of the four kids behind me. I walk over to the blonde haired kid and examine him for a moment. I poke him with an evil laugh. The five stare at me, all laughter gone, except for my evil laugh that continues until I'm out of breath. Then I stop abruptly.
"So, what's your name?" I ask. I tilt my head this way, that way, this way, that way, so on and so forth. He finally answers.
"Lucius Malfoy." Once again there is a roar of laughter. I am not laughing, though. I am staring blankly at him.
"'Mal' means 'bad' and 'foy' means 'faith.' Therefore, you are Mr. Badfaith." More stares.
"Is she always like this?" Mr. Badfaith asks. Sirius and Remus and James nod. "You're annoying." He directs this to me.
I yell, "Okay, Mr. Badfaith!" He gives a frustrated sigh. He starts to say something cutting him off by yelling, "MR. BADFAITH!!!!" He slapped his forehead. "Okay, enough of this, I am bored." I walk into a compartment and see two trunks, bearing the names of the two. I thrust them out of the compartment. There are yells from outside. A moment later, screams, then the four friends of mine walk in. "Took you long enough." I grin and take out a copy of The Quibbler. They sit down; watching me read the most unpopular magazine. I scream and throw it out of the window. "EVILNESS!" The sudden sound makes Peter fall from his seat and everyone else jump.
"What is it?" Sirius asks.
"England lost the Quidditch Cup."
"I knew that ages ago."
"So did I, when I went to the game thingy."
"Did I see you there?"
"No."
"Did you see her, James?"
"No," he said. "I was busy goggling at the new brooms they were riding. Cleansweep 60!" I laugh.
"They aren't as good as the Firebolt."
"The what?" James and Sirius look at me quizzically. I hit my head.
"I need to shut up about those..."
"What are they?"
"Nothing." I grin and they eye me, carefully. "Hey look! The snack cart thing! Be right back." I stand up and walk out to the trolly. I walk back in with loads of treats. "I have a contest for you."
"What?" Peter asks, eyeing the candy.
"It dosen't include you. Now, I want to see who can eat certain amounts of this—" I put the candy in the seat "—in the least amount of time." I see hate in Peter's eyes. I ignore it. "Okay... let me see how we shall do this." I sit and start to think. They wait as our little train ride progresses.
