disclaimer: not only do I (ahem we) not own these characters, I am but hosting this piece for my dear friend TAE who wrote it. She is wonderful and brilliant and I love her for it.

On to poor professor Quirrel!


I am pitiful.

I have no life.

I have a dopey iguana and and ugly purple turban and the dark lord sticking out of the back of my head, but I have no life. Do you know how I know for sure that I have no life? Dumbledore sent us all an owl today about this drinking party he's having, and already I'm coming up with excuses to why I can't go. Why don't I want to go, Dumbledore will ask. It's because my iguana's sick. He's turning yellow and is growing spikes on his back and I have to be with him in his hour of need. No, Dumbledore, of course I like drinking parties. I'm no social misfit. And I definitely don't have the Dark Lord sticking out the back of my head, in case that's what you were going to ask. Er, yes.

Too many awkward questions there. Voldy says I should go, because it would make me "fit in" better, and thus help further our disguise. He also says that if I call him Voldy ever ever again, he is going to explode me from the inside. But maybe he's right. I mean, of course he's right! Ahem, yes.

That settles it. I'm going to go to the dungeons tonight and get very, very drunk. And I will like it. I may like it so much that I will get sick all over the floor and never do it again. That would teach me for trying to get a life. I'll stick this book in my pocket, in case I feel a pressing need to be all angstful in the middle of the party. Iguana is fed. Turban is on. Here I go! Out the door! To the dungeons!

whimper