Grr... Writer's block has struck me again... CURSE YOU WRITERS BLOCK! Anyways, I decided to force myself to start typing. This was the result of my unoriginality. I hope you liked it... even though it might not be good.
Yes, I know, in the original book, Harry didn't take the book, Quidditch Through the Ages, back.
As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy grey and the lake like chilled steel. Every morning, the ground was covered in frost. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaverskin boots.
The Quidditch season had begun. On Saturday, Harry would be playing in his first match after weeks of training: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. If Gryffindor won, they would move up into second place in the house championship.
Hardly anyone had seen Harry play because Wood had decided that, as their secret weapon, Harry should be kept, well, secret. But the news that he was playing Seeker had leaked out somehow, and Harry didn't know which was worse- people telling him he'd be brilliant or people telling him they'd be running around underneath him holding a mattress.
It was really lucky that Harry now had Hermione as a friend. He didn't know how he'd have gotten through all his homework without her. Sometimes he would ask Tino, who was always willing to help, but the Finnish boy was usually missing from the common room, and usually the only times Harry saw him was either in class or in bed, sleeping. Some times he would be writing letters. Once, Harry accidentally read one of Tino's unfinished letters when the latter was not around (presumably in the bathroom).
It went:
Dear Ber, Sea and Lado,
Yes, I'm alright! It's quite fun here, and the lessons are far different than what I
have in my home, though some of the things taught there are not taught here, and vice versa.
How's Hanatamago doing? Are you feeding her well? Tell her I miss her very much!
I'm really sorry I had to leave so suddenly for this trip. Lilli originally volunteered, you know,
but Vash wouldn't let her.
I don't know if I mentioned this in my last letter, but the one who sorted us was a hat, literally!
It found out about us, too, but it won't tell anyone. I made it promise. Frankly,
I don't like the rivalry between the houses, or the Sorting. It's like grouping them
into races, Chinese, Malay, Indian, Caucasian, like that. It's wrong, and it's one of the things that I
dislike about the school. Remember the racial riots in 1918 in Singapore? Sing
was in pain the whole time. Arthur was quite worried.
To answer your last question, yes, Sea, there is a class taught by ghosts! Alfred wouldn't
show up for that one. And yes, Vlad's being suspected. I hope everyone realizes that
he's not a vampire. Oh, and a girl from Gryffindor, her name's Hermione Granger,
I think she's figuring us out. We don't want anyone figuring out
that we are
It had been cut off at that sentence. It was strange, and the way Tino talked about those 'racial riots', it was like he had been there, or was at least alive at that time. Strange... very strange. And this letter was proof that Tino was hiding something.
But the biggest question was: WHERE IS SINGA?
No one knew, not even Tino or even Alfred. Harry wanted to ask Matthew, but he kept forgetting, and Arthur had been refusing to speak to anyone... more like he couldn't. The Weasley twins casted then Voice-Losing Jinx that lasted for a month on the first of November.
Oliver Wood was making the Quidditch team to last-minute practice, which took up a lot of Harry's time. Hermione had lent him a book named Quidditch Through the Ages, which was a very interesting read. Harry learned that there were seven hundred ways of committing Quidditch foul and that all of them had happened during a World Cup match in 1473. He also learned that Seekers were usually the smallest and fastest playersm and that most serious Quidditch accidents seemed to happen to them, that although people rarely died playing Quidditch, referees had been known to vanish and turn up months later in the Sahara Desert.
Hermione had become a bit more relaxed about breaking rules since Harry and Ron had saved her from the mountain troll, and she was much nicer for it, The day before Harry's first Quidditch match, the three of them were out in the freezing courtyard during break, and she had conjured them up a bright blue fire that could be carried around in a jam jar. They were standing with their backs to it, getting warm, when Snape crossed the yard.
Harry, Ron and Hermione moved closer together to block the fire from view- they were sure it wouldn't be allowed. Unfortunately, something about their guilty faces caught Snape's eye. He limped over. He hadn't seemed the fire, but he seemed to be looking for a reason to tell them off anyways.
"What's that you got there, Potter?"
It was Quidditch Through the Ages. Harry showed him.
"Library books are not to be taken outside the school," said Snape. "Give it to me. Five points from Gryffindor." Harry suddenly wished he was as strong as Alfred (who had proved his strength some time ago by flipping a table), so he could give Snape's large, hooked nose a satisfying punch.
"He's just made that rule up," Harry muttered angrily as Snape limped away. "Wonder what's wrong with his leg?"
"Dunno, but I hope it's really hurting him," said Ron bitterly. Harry was sure that he, too, was wishing he was strong enough to flip a table.
The Gryffindor common room was very noisy that evening. Harry, Ron and Hermione sat together next to a window. Hermione was checking Harry and Ron's Charms homework for them. She would never let them copy, telling them in a stern, McGonagall-y tone that they would never learn that way, but by asking her to read it through, they got the right answers anyways.
Harry felt restless. He wanted Quidditch Through Ages back, to take his mind of his nerves about tomorrow. Why should he be afraid of Snape? Getting up, he told Ron and Hermione he was going to ask Snape if he could have it. "Better you than me," they said together, which was not at all reassuring. But Harry had an idea that Snjape wouldn't refuse if there were other teachers listening.
He made his way down to the staffroom, meeting Alfred along the way. The American insisted that he accompany Harry so he could protect the smaller boy from 'the evil greasy hook-nosed villain, Sneverus Sape". Chuckling, Harry and Alfred walked the rest of the distance and they both knocked on the staffroom door.
There was no answer.
Alfred knocked again, more insistently.
Nothing.
"Perhaps Snape had left the book in there?" Harry asked Alfred, who shrugged. It was worth a try. Alfred pushed the door ajar and they both peered inside- and a horrible scene met their eyes. Alfred even gasped dramatically.
Snape and Filch were inside, alone. Snape was holding his robes above his knees. One of his legs was bloody and mangled. Filch was handing Snape bandages. Alfred and Harry were too shocked to find pleasure in seeing Snape injured.
"Blasted thing," Snape was saying. "How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?"
Harry tried to shut the door quietly, but-
"POTTER! JONES!" Snape's face was twisted with fury as he dropped his robes quickly to hide his leg. Harry gulped, and looked around. Alfred was gone. That sneaky little-
"I-I just wondered if I could have my book back," Harry stammered, his face white.
"GET OUT! OUT!"
Harry left, before Snape could take any more points from Gryffindor. He sprinted back upstairs, and, to his astonishment, Alfred was already there, and he was holding- could you believe it? - Quidditch Through the Ages in his hand! Winking, Alfred handed it back to Harry and skipped- yes, skipped- back to their room.
"Did you get it?" Ron asked, and Harry held up the book for them to see. Then he noticed Harry's expression. "What's the matter?"
At this point, I received a bit of inspiration in the form of three words-
Balloons, Rainbows, Fish.
Thank you, Canadianotaku2001
This part of the chapter also partly answers the question you guys are probably wondering-
HOW THE HECK IS SINGA DANGEROUS?!
Singa was, putting it quite frankly, screwed. Allen had woken up in Oliver's house, which was bad enough as it was, as Oliver's house was so bright and colourful, and Allen preferred dark and dull colors. To make it worse, there were cotton-candy-colored balloons strung all over the place, courtesy of Matt, who detested his brother.
Allen had immediately started throwing a tantrum, which meant breaking walls, smashing windows etc etc, when suddenly rainbow-colored confetti was dumped on him (by Erzsebet. Of course.), which made him even more frustrated and grab his bat in one hand, and a- surprise, surprise!- frying pan in the other. Looking slightly dazed, he went on a rampage.
Once he had finally calmed down, suddenly, a large, live cod fish was dropped from the ceiling and 'coincidentally' landed on Allen's head with a thump.
One thing led to another, and, in the end, Singa was forced to fix the wrecked house up.
In the middle of fixing a broken chair, Singa suddenly went still. Why was she doing this? Why was she letting herself be treated as a servant, a peasant, someone lower than the lowest?! No reason! No reason at all! Nothing was keeping her from refusing! Singa stared at the wooden chair, gears in her brain working, whole body trembling.
Slowly, a wide smile spread on her face, wider than a normal smile, so wide it became a slightly crazy, maniacal smile. The girl gave a giggle. Then another. Then another. She clutched the chair, laughing, actually tearing up a little. She straightened up and rubbed her eyes, which were now a swirling, passionate red.
She turned around and picked up the lion-like cat in her arms and stared into his blood-lusting yellow eyes. "You're hungry, aren't you?" Singa practically purred, eyes dancing. She planted a kiss on his furry forehead, and θυσία stretched and yawned, showing glinting, razor-sharp teeth. If a cat could smack his lips, θυσία did it. He seemed to say, That's the girl I know!
Singa snatched up her penknife and walked to the door of the wrecked house, smile still on her face. "Bear with your hunger for a while," she sang merrily. The hand holding the penknife twitched uncontrollably, and Singa used her other hand to beckon the huge cat towards her. θυσία moved without making a sound, his tail swishing, waiting for another command. He sensed that it was going to be mealtime soon.
He was right. The girl with the swirling ruby eyes spoke again, "It's almost lunchtime! After you're full, I'll introduce you to a special place in the wonderful First Player's world!"
The girl with the red eyes moved out of the house.
The cat followed her dutifully.
The cat understood the girl, and the girl understood the cat.
Matt sighed, after hearing Singa close the door to the house, in satisfaction. He was hoping that her Twitch would come before she went back to that school he and Allen had broken into, and he knew that making her fix the wrecked house might trigger it, which was why he didn't object when Allen forced (or tried to, anyways) Singa to clean everything up.
Only the second players had the Twitch- all of them had it, after their first kill. The Twitch was something like a disease, that, well, made your hand twitch. It gave you a need for blood, driving you to temporary insanity once or twice every year, for around an hour. It's impossible to control, and impossible to cure. The more times you kill without the Twitch, the shorter your Twitch lasts, but every Twitch would last at least five minutes.
The Twitch didn't make you kill everyone on sight, though. It worked in a weird way, and no one could really understand it. It made the nation somehow see through each an every human (Nations with the Twitch would never target other nations), and he or she would choose a victim who had ever said or thought something that would make the nation kill him or her.
Which reminded Matt- his Twitch hadn't come yet, that year. But he shrugged. Oh well. No use worrying about it.
Aaaaaaand, CUT! Horrible, right? Okay, maybe not so much, but I wrote a part with Matt! :D
Anyways, do you guys still like Singa after her moment of insanity? I do. It's alright, she usually isn't that scary. I like how I ended Singa's part! It gives off a mysterious feel.
A little hint about why Singa and the cat completely understand each other- the cat may be half lion (he looks like a lion anyways). Singapore's nation animal thingamajig is a lion.
Review! *give you a cupcake*