Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter
Chapter eight: The Moanings of an Overgrown Dungeon Dweller
It's Christmas Day
Great. I stepped out of my dungeon and got attacked by large amount of brightly coloured tinsel. There is mistletoe over nearly every door; I have decided to completely ignore it because if I ignore it, it is not there. I got a present off Dumbledore that is actually pretty good, though I will never admit it to him. It is a solid golden cauldron, self-cleaning, self-mixing with a secret compartment for a limited amount of rare but important ingredients. If it had a brain that cauldron would be lethal. Luckily it doesn't, it has my brain instead which might actually be worse.
That was the most harrowing experience of my lifeI have just been trapped between Lockhart and a doorframe with a sprig of mistletoe hanging over our heads. Lockhart looked up, went "ohh!" in a really unconvincing 'how did that happen?' way and pointed upwards just in case that I hadn't noticed what was causing his strange behaviour. I backed away quite hurriedly before he decided to carry out Christmas tradition and Lockhart waltzed off to go and pluck his eyebrows or whatever it is that he actually does. All the teachers have decided to be more festive, Poppy looks like a Christmas tree she's got that much tinsel wrapped around her, Flitwick has charmed robins to fly around him all day and McGonagall has stuck a bit of holly to her hat. I am very pleased to announce that I am still (a) dressed in all black (b) as alone as ever and have (c) managed to completely ignore the run up and actual arrival of Christmas to the world. The only time I have actually acknowledged its existence is when I opened my solid gold cauldron and did a very small jig around it before remembering who I was and what I stood for.
How actually writes these abominations?We are singing Christmas Carols. Correction, they are singing Christmas Carols, I am quietly sipping Firewhisky out of my goblet while trying to ignore Lockhart, who keeps trying to catch my eye. The Christmas Dinner was awful, how anyone can eat so much stodgy food is beyond me. The only thing that is edible is the pudding because the House Elves finish their entire supply of Old School Rum for the year by pouring it into the white sauce. However, they don't use it in anything else during the year so every bottle is used up at Christmas. Hagrid is already drunk on the eggnog, McGonagall is tipsy from I think its wine in her goblet, or blood of course. I always thought there was something funny about her. Poppy is nearly under the table from all the alcohol she could get her hands on and Flitwick is sticking to just half a goblet of eggnog after what happened a few years ago. It's a long story but it included running around the lake at half three in the morning with nothing but his shoes on. I said thank you to Dumbledore for the cauldron, however much he annoys me it still is a great present and must have cost him quite a bit. He just smiled at me and raised his goblet in a kind of toast. I raised mine back and nearly choked on the pumpkin juice in it, McGonagall had switched my Firewhisky for juice when I wasn't looking. I changed her wine to juice of pickled toad livers and she nearly brained me, Lockhart said that it wasn't a suitable retaliation and I should apologise for resorting to such disgusting methods of payback. Then his chair mysteriously got a life of its own and decided it didn't want Lockhart's backside on it any more so chucked him over the teacher's table to land just in front of the Slytherin table, who applauded my imaginative revenge.
Granger is up to somethingShe has been in the hospital wing for around two months. I must say that Potions is so much quieter without her and there are a lot more opportunities to take points off Gryffindor because she is no longer whispering instructions to everyone. Unfortunately Potter and Weasley are taking her the homework so I can't give it all to her at once and demand it be finished within a completely unreasonable and impossible time.
Lockhart thinks he is God's giftHe says that he has stopped all the attacks on the students because the Heir of Slytherin 'knew that he was in the castle and sensibly stopped before Lockhart came down really hard on them.' I feel like petrifying Lockhart just to make him shut up. He keeps going on about the castle needing a 'morale booster' to 'wash away the bad memories' and if it affects me in any way, shape or form I will do something Lockhart will not live long enough to regret.
Help mePlease kill me. Then Lockhart. No, let me kill Lockhart then kill me. It's the 14th February and apparently it's 'valentine's day'. He has covered the castle (including my dungeons) with pink flowers, heart- shaped confetti is falling from every place in the castle, even the suits of armour are shooting tons of confetti at anyone who walks past them. Three people have been taken to the hospital wing already for confetti related incidents. I'm sat in the Great hall with a shield that is covering me, my food, my goblet of coffee and a perimeter around me of exactly three centimetres. If one piece of confetti touches me I will scream. I mean it, I'm tipping over the edge, in fact I'm already half way down the mountain. Lockhart is wearing lurid pink floaty robes as well; he looks like a bloody meringue. What's he doing? Oh a speech, okay I can handle speeches. He has twelve dwarves with gold wings and harps that are 'friendly card-carrying cupids.' They don't look all that friendly to me. Listen to this bit:
"I'm sure my colleagues will want to enter into the spirit of the occasion! Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a love potion! And while you're at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I've ever met, the sly old dog!"
Anyone who asks me for a Love Potion will be force-fed everything I can find in my ingredients cupboard. Including the various range of poisons. Flitwick is just sat with his head in his hands, probably trying to list every curse he could perform on Lockhart, that's what I'm doing anyway.
The end of a very bad dayI have received no less than eight valentines from different students trying to be funny, and I think those Weasley twins were behind at least four of them. I cursed the last three dwarves that tried to sing to me in the middle of a packed corridor, I think Poppy is treating them in the hospital wing. Some of the rhymes were mortifying; luckily no one else actually got to hear them.
'Severus makes me want to become a singer,
Even though he is a bit of a minger,
No one else loves his greasy black locks,
But of all the teachers, he's the one that rocks!'
So pathetic, I mean 'makes me want to become a singer'? I could have written a better rhyme in my sleep. I know that it was the Gryffindors because no one else would have dared to send such rubbish to me. I think McGonagall sent me one as well, so I sent her one back. Hers went like this:
'Severus Snape with sneer in place,
How I would love to smack that face,
Have you ever in your life had any fun?
And do you really melt in the sun?'
She has asked for everything she got. And I do not melt in the sun, I just burn very easily. So I sent his one back to her:
'Minerva with your tartan hat,
I want to hit you with a bat,
With your deep wrinkles and smug smile,
When I look at you I bite back bile.'
I hope she likes it; it took me ages to get the words just right.
