Chapter Eleven
I woke up. Suddenly, bunnies didn't seem so funny. Come to think of it, why had bunnies been funny in the first place?
It all came back to me in one sharp flash
"The toast!" I screamed, jolting up in the bed that I had just realized I was in. Looking around, I realized that I was in an infirmary, not the hospital wing at Hogwarts. There was a bedside table next to me with an assortment of bottles marked "anti-Thestral potion"
"Curse them!" I screamed again "They're trying to undo my genius!"
"You're not the only one." Said a withered old witch in the bed next to me. I now realized that I was in a room with seven or eight beds, most of which had people in them.
The old witch pointed to her bedside table. Hers was laden with potions marked "Anti Kitty-cat potion."
"You to, eh?" Said a middle aged wizard, sitting up in the bed across from me. With more than a little alarm I noticed that he had dog ears. "You're lucky, they've had me in here for over a year, I wasn't allowed to be near the muggles, I kept urinating on the fire hydrants, you see." Alarmed, I felt my own ears. Normal.
"What was that you were saying about toast before, dear?" asked a woman with a kind face and enormous butterfly wings that had just started to dry. I noticed with a jolt that she was dangling in mid-air; a rope attached her to the ceiling. "Personally, I like my toast with nectar."
"That's right!" I said loudly "The toast, I cursed myself with the toast. That's what I get for thinking happily-ever-after."
Everybody in the room laughed, including a rather fat man with a green face, no visible ears, and flippers sticking out from under the covers. I watched in fascination as the man choked, spluttered, then reached for a cup of water on his bedside table and dumped it over his head. The water re-filled itself the moment he put the cup back.
As if this day could get any stranger, a sudden ringing siren went off, and the doors to the room burst open. Covered by a white sheet on a stretcher, a large form was deposited on the empty bed. One of the carriers yanked off the sheet, revealing a person with a mane of tangled black hair. Literally. He or she had the head and neck of a horse! A nurse directed the handful of "Anti-Horsey potion", a book labeled "When Ponies Go Wild" and its sequel "When Ponies Go Really Wild" with her wand onto the bedside table, and they all left as suddenly as they had come.
The horse woke up and screamed in a braying voice "The toast! It was the toast!"
"Finally" I said, pleased. "somebody understands the horrors of a bad toast."
"And which toast was that?" asked a girl covered in bird feathers (her potion was labeled "Anti-Big-Bird potion" (Have you ever watched Sesame Street?))
"Someone poisoned my toast! I was just sitting down to breakfast when it happened." Explained the horse "No more toast for me. Just scrambled eggs from now on."
"Ah! You, cannibal!" screamed the big-bird girl in horror.
"Someone save me from this madness!" I moaned. As if in answer to my prayer Calandra shoved open the doors to the room, took a look around, and, spotting me said "Win! I've been looking in all Saint Mungo's rooms searching for you! The nurses are going—" a hand grabbed Calandra's shirt collar and dragged her out of the room. "Bye!" she called out "Get well soon!"
As the door slammed shut I noticed there was a sign above it. AAR: Anti Animals Room. So that's where I was. Well, duh. Where else would I be if not in the AAR? What did it mean again? Oh. Yeah.
As much as I was enjoying my visit to the Anti Animals Room I really wished someone would come and take me back to Hogwarts. No offense to these guys, but they were a little unnerving…
As I heard my mother's angry voice from down the hall, I thought, Then again, maybe it would be better just to stay here.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE MIGHT NOT RECOVER! WE HAVE FULL COVERAGE ON OUR INSURANCE! I'LL SEE YOU IN COURT!" the clacking sound of my mothers high heels grew fainter. My mother was beautiful, but dangerous. I had inherited her beauty, Nuala had inherited her dangerous. Seriously, if Nuala was angry at you, you had seconds to live.
ATTENTION!
THE WRITERS OF THIS STORY HAVE JUST HAD AN IDEA ABOUT WIN'S FAMILY AND WILL HENCE PROCEED TO EXPLAIN IN A NARRATIVE FORM FOR THE REST OF THE CHAPTER. YOU CAN FIND OUT ABOUT WIN LATER, OK?
Chapter Eleven and a half
Win had a rather strange family. You see, long long ago Christine Miranda Slytherin fell in "love" with the owner of a multi billion gallionare named Marvolo James Smith. To be truthful, Christine couldn't remember his name half the time they were married, but that was okay because he was always to busy kissing her to hear what she said. The "love" lasted until she was three weeks pregnant with Win. On that day, the day she intended to tell Marvolo about his soon-to-be born baby would not be named Harry ("it's such a stupid name!"), when she met his business rival, John Jacob Jingle-Heimer Shmit while waiting in line to buy some pickles (at this point in her pregnancy, she was having huge cravings for pickles. Tons and tons of pickles.) . Besides from having a name that was impossibly long and stupid, John Jacob Jingle-Heimer Shmit was quite a catch. He was rich (a trillionare), handsome, rich, rich, attractive, rich, and did I mention rich? It wasn't long before Poor Marvolo was ditched for the dashing -and don't forget rich- John Jacob Jingle-Heimer Shmit. Of course, one of the big downsides of having a husband named John Jacob Jingle-Heimer Shmit was that whenever he went out of the house, the neighbors always ran outside, pointed at him, and shouted "THERE GOES JOHN JACOB JINGLE-HEIMER SHMIT DA DA-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA-DA!" This was quite embarrassing for Christine, who demanded that her husband disguise himself before leaving the house, even if it was only to check the mail, which Christine never did because she was pregnant with Win. Poor Marvolo was stuck with his arch enemy becoming the father of his child. Getting back to John Jacob Jingle-Heimer Shmit, he went to a muggle mask store. AN: If you haven't seen the Phantom of the Opera movie, you can skim over this part. There were three isles in the store; they had signs that said Isle 1: lots of masks. Isle 2: some masks. Isle 3: no masks, but a really cool cape thing. Being the intelligent bloke that he was, John Jacob Jingle-Heimer Shmit went straight to isle three, where he bought a really cool cape thing to go with the white mask he found on the floor that was cut in half. This disguise proved to be not very good, though, because whenever he put on his half white mask and really cool cape thing and went outside, all the neighbors ran outside and shouted THE PHAAAANTOM OF THE OPERA IS THERE, INSIDE THAT HOUSE! Though Mrs. Slytherin didn't think about it at the time, this was quite ironic as her name was Christine, and John Jacob Jingle-Heimer Shmit was slightly insane, and burned, though on his finger, not his face. After a while this got so annoying, that Mrs. Slytherin demanded that they move to a more isolated location. In the Slytherin household, Christine's word was law (hence the Slytherin vs. Shmit household. Christine had forced John to take her name.) and so they moved to an isolated location.
All in all, John Jacob Jingle-Heimer Shmit was a good husband, and Christine was reasonably satisfied. Until, that is, her brother-in-law showed up. Christine had given birth to Win only a week ago, but was already pregnant again with John Jacob Jingle-Heimer Shmit's child. (Which would not, by the way, be named Harold! "It's such a stupid name!") When her unemployed new brother-in-law showed up, Christine was quite distraught. Where were they supposed to keep him? In the garage? I mean garbage? I mean garbage disposal? I mean disposal? The point was, there was no where to keep him ("We only have 4,000 rooms for goodness sake!"). But the brother-in-law ( His name was John Jacob Jingle-Heimer Shmit Pinkerton jr.) plonked himself down onto the parlor sofa, and refused to move. Christine completely bewildered reverted to her old method of getting what she wanted: screaming. But even that didn't work, because John Pinkerton Jr. was hard of hearing.
Two months later her brother-in-law still hadn't left, and Christine was getting quite hoarse. At the end of three months, she gave up and John Pinkerton Jr. has lived in the Slytherin mansion since then.
Although John Pinkerton Jr. was quite good at baby-sitting, he had an annoying habit of pointing at his brother and shouting "JOHN JACOB JINGLE-HEIMER SHMIT! HIS NAME IS MY NAME TOO!". But yet again, there no amount of yelling on Christine's part, that could get John Pinkerton Jr. to stop singing that stupid silly song! Finally, after the birth of Nuala ("I don't care, we're not naming our daughter Harold!") Christine and John Pinkerton Jr. Struck a deal. He would baby-sit four days a week all day in exchange for free rent. As she grew up, Win was spoiled by her father and her step father who, naturally, wanted to do anything and everything better than his rival (in this case, be a better father to Win). Win was also spoiled rotten by her mother, who, knowing that as her eldest daughter Win would one-day inherit the family business, wanted her daughter to have everything her heart desired. Sadly, nobody spoiled Nuala, and though she turned out less conceited and spoiled than Win, she was far more jealous…sinister music Who wouldn't be jealous? Win had three adults constantly fawning over her, and praising her every word, while Nuala had… well, Nuala was a child deprived of attention. Once she arrived at Hogwarts Nuala lost no time in getting the attention she deserved by wearing very short skirts. Not to say that Nuala was an airhead, she wasn't. In fact, Nuala was much better suited for running the family business than Win was. Although Win is our main character, let's face it: Can you picture her as a business woman? All together Nuala's resentment and her intelligence did not have a good boding for Win. In fact, we rather think Nuala might have a slight huge insane crush on Dylan (but then again: Who wouldn't?)
AN: Kirsten: I wouldn't., and I fail to see how Rachel can have a crush on a character that she created.
A/N: Rachel: He's hot! And you helped create him too…
AN: Kirsten: Rachel, he is not, he acts gay!
A/N: Rachel: First of all, acting gay does not affect your hotness at all. In fact, it might heighten it… And second of all, he's not gay!
AN: Kirsten: Okay maybe he's not gay, but he is weird. Actually… I'm starting to think someone else is gay…
A/N: Rachel: Are you talking about me! 'Cause I'm not gay! How could I be gay if I think Dylan is hot? And yes, Dylan might be weird, but so what?
AN: Kirsten: (sarcastically) no, of course I wasn't accusing you!
A/N: Rachel: cheerfully Good then! I'm glad you weren't accusing me!
AN: Kirsten so gullible… anyway, do you think we should end the chapter now? Readers( and hopefully reviewers) are probably getting tired of us talking.
A/N: Rachel: Yeah we should end the chapter. It's kind of sad when we start resorting to conversations about Dylan's hotness to keep the chapter flowing….