NaNoWriMo2011
Nov. 3rd, 2011 05:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sgt_majoretteIt won't be 50,000 words, but there'll be something every day, and it will be kid-friendly, work-safe pre-slash.
"Yeah, I'm talking to you, Malfoy!" Flint sneered.
Scorpius didn't appear to have heard the challenge, listening intently to whatever James Potter was saying to the little group gathered around him. But then James' eyebrow twitched upward ever so slightly; in an instant Scorpius had spun around with his wand trained on Flint, whose curse slammed into Scorpius' shield charm and threw him over backwards. His wand flew out of his hand and was snatched out of the air by a furious Roxie Weasley as she shoved her way through the crowd.
"I saw that, Flint, you little shite! Next time pick on someone your age, and not when his back is turned, either! Get your sorry arse back to the common room!" Flint, red-faced, scrambled to his feet and fled.
Headmaster Urquhart descended upon the scene. "What's all this, then?" he said, frowning. "Miss Weasley, Mr. Flint's wand, if you please. Yours too, Mr. Malfoy. I shall want Miss Weasley, Mr. Flint, Mr. Malfoy, and...of course. Mr. James Potter ("What? What did I do?") to present themselves in my office in twenty minutes. The rest of you, be off about your several businesses, now. [Shoo], I say!"
"He called me a name and I didn't know what it meant until James' brother asked their mum. So then I thought he ...er... liked me, in a nasty way, so I just didn't answer him. Because it was nasty, you see. Because he's ugly. Then when he shouted at me in the corridor, he sounded [angry] and Ja- somebody's eyes got all wide so I turned around and threw up a shield."
"No! He cursed me first! All I did was call his name!"
The headmaster pursed his lips and looked over his spectacles at Flint. "Don't be a fool as well as a bully, boy. Did you think I wouldn't have examined your wands? Fifty points from Slytherin and a week's detention in the greenhouses. Professor Longbottom always has suitably unpleasant chores that need doing. Miss Weasley loses ten points for language and earns ten points for taking charge of the situation.
"Mr. Malfoy, I find that you acted in self-defense, quite impressively for a first year, casting non-verbally. Twenty points to Griffyndor."
Scorpius blushed. "I just said the incantation in my head," he muttered. "I don't like to shout indoors..."
Then the headmaster turned to James, looking rather Dumbledorish, but without the distinctive twinkle. "Potter, I don't know what you had to do with all this, but it can't be a coincidence that anytime a first-year Griffyndor ends up in my office, your name invariably comes up in the conversation!"
Unable to resist a bit of goodnatured cheek, James retorted, "Can I help it if the little 'uns need guidance?"
"Mr. Potter, you and I need to speak. The rest of you are dismissed."
"In complete confidence, then, Mr. Potter, my word on it."
"Promise? I mean, you can't tell Mr. Malfoy or Flint's parents or anybody, it's important! Shem – Scorpius – has to work this out for himself."
"Very mature, Mr. Potter. Work what out for himself?"
James took a deep breath. "Well, first, Flint drew a naked picture of Scorpius and wrote pillow-biter on it. I told him to hex Flint, but he wouldn't, he decided it just meant Flint sort of liked him. I kept trying to explain that it's still an insult whatever the other person thinks, but Malfoy's sort of odd in some ways and besides, he probably is one, if you know what I mean, I don't want to make him feel bad about it, but he still has to get his own back from Flint, you know."
"Believe it or not, Mr. Potter, I've taught young boys long enough that I do indeed understand. By any chance, did young Mr. Malfoy ask his father what er, that expression means?"
"Yes, and my brother Al says that Shem – Scorpius, I mean – says his father wouldn't tell him but he said I was right that he ought to hex whoever said it."
"Hmm." The Headmaster sighed heavily. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I am going to leave this matter in your capable hands, Mr. Potter. By which I suppose I mean the capable hands of every Weasley and Potter in the Wizarding world. Can I rely on you to know when things get beyond the scope of your talents and consult, perhaps, if not a teacher, then one of your parents?
"Promise, Mr. Potter?"
James frowned for a moment, deep in thought. "Promise," he said finally.
-Harry. You awake? Harry!
-Mmmph. I'm awake now...
-Any idea why your son wants to know what a pillow-biter is?
-What!! Which son?
-Oh, I don't know. Perhaps the one who knows the words to all Celestina Warbeck's songs?
-Did somebody call Al that?
-I don't think so. I think Scorpius asked him to ask me. No, don't ask me why they didn't ask you, Harry...
-Bitch. I wonder what Malfoy would say if Scorpius asked him?
-Oh, he did. Apparently Malfoy went apoplectic; wanted to blame James but apparently he couldn't.
-Oh, James. Why does everything always come back to James?
-Because he's a natural leader. But he just told Scorpius to hex whoever said it. You're going to have to give Al The Talk.
-Again?
-Again. But, you know, the other Talk this time...
"No! Not a word! Just shut it, Flint! And I'll tell you what, everybody knows you're the perv, sending dirty notes to little boys. Malfoy's eleven years old, for Godric's sake!" Roxie was as wound up as ever Gran Mollie had ever been, and her voice made the green hangings in the Slytherin common room quiver.
"Don't move, don't even breathe till I tell you to! You better stay away from first years or second years or even third years or anybody one split-second younger than you or I'll hex your bits off slowly and painfully and you'll wish I'd called my Uncle Harry on your nasty self!" Then she swept the room with her wand.
"If anybody here has anything to say in this crawling shit's defense, I advise you to keep it to yourself!" As she stalked out of the room, Al Potter started to giggle.
"Yeah, I'm talking to you, Malfoy!" Flint sneered.
Scorpius didn't appear to have heard the challenge, listening intently to whatever James Potter was saying to the little group gathered around him. But then James' eyebrow twitched upward ever so slightly; in an instant Scorpius had spun around with his wand trained on Flint, whose curse slammed into Scorpius' shield charm and threw him over backwards. His wand flew out of his hand and was snatched out of the air by a furious Roxie Weasley as she shoved her way through the crowd.
"I saw that, Flint, you little shite! Next time pick on someone your age, and not when his back is turned, either! Get your sorry arse back to the common room!" Flint, red-faced, scrambled to his feet and fled.
Headmaster Urquhart descended upon the scene. "What's all this, then?" he said, frowning. "Miss Weasley, Mr. Flint's wand, if you please. Yours too, Mr. Malfoy. I shall want Miss Weasley, Mr. Flint, Mr. Malfoy, and...of course. Mr. James Potter ("What? What did I do?") to present themselves in my office in twenty minutes. The rest of you, be off about your several businesses, now. [Shoo], I say!"
"He called me a name and I didn't know what it meant until James' brother asked their mum. So then I thought he ...er... liked me, in a nasty way, so I just didn't answer him. Because it was nasty, you see. Because he's ugly. Then when he shouted at me in the corridor, he sounded [angry] and Ja- somebody's eyes got all wide so I turned around and threw up a shield."
"No! He cursed me first! All I did was call his name!"
The headmaster pursed his lips and looked over his spectacles at Flint. "Don't be a fool as well as a bully, boy. Did you think I wouldn't have examined your wands? Fifty points from Slytherin and a week's detention in the greenhouses. Professor Longbottom always has suitably unpleasant chores that need doing. Miss Weasley loses ten points for language and earns ten points for taking charge of the situation.
"Mr. Malfoy, I find that you acted in self-defense, quite impressively for a first year, casting non-verbally. Twenty points to Griffyndor."
Scorpius blushed. "I just said the incantation in my head," he muttered. "I don't like to shout indoors..."
Then the headmaster turned to James, looking rather Dumbledorish, but without the distinctive twinkle. "Potter, I don't know what you had to do with all this, but it can't be a coincidence that anytime a first-year Griffyndor ends up in my office, your name invariably comes up in the conversation!"
Unable to resist a bit of goodnatured cheek, James retorted, "Can I help it if the little 'uns need guidance?"
"Mr. Potter, you and I need to speak. The rest of you are dismissed."
"In complete confidence, then, Mr. Potter, my word on it."
"Promise? I mean, you can't tell Mr. Malfoy or Flint's parents or anybody, it's important! Shem – Scorpius – has to work this out for himself."
"Very mature, Mr. Potter. Work what out for himself?"
James took a deep breath. "Well, first, Flint drew a naked picture of Scorpius and wrote pillow-biter on it. I told him to hex Flint, but he wouldn't, he decided it just meant Flint sort of liked him. I kept trying to explain that it's still an insult whatever the other person thinks, but Malfoy's sort of odd in some ways and besides, he probably is one, if you know what I mean, I don't want to make him feel bad about it, but he still has to get his own back from Flint, you know."
"Believe it or not, Mr. Potter, I've taught young boys long enough that I do indeed understand. By any chance, did young Mr. Malfoy ask his father what er, that expression means?"
"Yes, and my brother Al says that Shem – Scorpius, I mean – says his father wouldn't tell him but he said I was right that he ought to hex whoever said it."
"Hmm." The Headmaster sighed heavily. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I am going to leave this matter in your capable hands, Mr. Potter. By which I suppose I mean the capable hands of every Weasley and Potter in the Wizarding world. Can I rely on you to know when things get beyond the scope of your talents and consult, perhaps, if not a teacher, then one of your parents?
"Promise, Mr. Potter?"
James frowned for a moment, deep in thought. "Promise," he said finally.
-Harry. You awake? Harry!
-Mmmph. I'm awake now...
-Any idea why your son wants to know what a pillow-biter is?
-What!! Which son?
-Oh, I don't know. Perhaps the one who knows the words to all Celestina Warbeck's songs?
-Did somebody call Al that?
-I don't think so. I think Scorpius asked him to ask me. No, don't ask me why they didn't ask you, Harry...
-Bitch. I wonder what Malfoy would say if Scorpius asked him?
-Oh, he did. Apparently Malfoy went apoplectic; wanted to blame James but apparently he couldn't.
-Oh, James. Why does everything always come back to James?
-Because he's a natural leader. But he just told Scorpius to hex whoever said it. You're going to have to give Al The Talk.
-Again?
-Again. But, you know, the other Talk this time...
"No! Not a word! Just shut it, Flint! And I'll tell you what, everybody knows you're the perv, sending dirty notes to little boys. Malfoy's eleven years old, for Godric's sake!" Roxie was as wound up as ever Gran Mollie had ever been, and her voice made the green hangings in the Slytherin common room quiver.
"Don't move, don't even breathe till I tell you to! You better stay away from first years or second years or even third years or anybody one split-second younger than you or I'll hex your bits off slowly and painfully and you'll wish I'd called my Uncle Harry on your nasty self!" Then she swept the room with her wand.
"If anybody here has anything to say in this crawling shit's defense, I advise you to keep it to yourself!" As she stalked out of the room, Al Potter started to giggle.
