Harry Cotter and the Philosopher’s Brothel.
Figbitch?
“Wow, so you survived.”
“Barley, she made me fly laps.”
“Good, it’ll help you when you fly after the titch.”
“The what?”
“Damn, we have a lot of work to do…”
Oliver, or Wood, as he insisted on being called, began to explain the rules of Figbitch. Everything from the chasers to the beaters and back to the keepers. The titch was revealed to be a small elf, magically enchanted to fly round the pitch; if Harry caught him the game would be over and 150 points would be added to the wankers’ total; hopefully winning them the game.
“But now…let me show you your death.”
“What?”
“Since your dad…”
“What?”
“Shut it. Since your dad was seeker, no other wanker has survived without being killed by the Badgers.”
“The what?”
“I said shut it. Look like the titch, these guys have wings but ‘stead of elves, they’re rabid badgers.”
Slipping gloves onto both of his hands, Wood picked up a small box, placing it on top of the main Figbitch chest, while he pulled a large golf club out of no where. Casually mentioning how a few of the deaths had been because beaters had hit the seekers with the clubs.
Thrusting out, the badger, with its large wings, threw himself towards Harry, only stopped when the club sent it flying in the other direction. There was a silence before the ravenous growl emerged. Wood dropped his club, encouraging the badger towards his chest, but like a bull taunter he stepped to the side as the creature threw itself back into its prison like compartment, but with not being quick enough to shut it, the badger jumped out, ripping a large chunk of Wood’s lower ear.
“Don’t worry,” he flicked his wand, letting the flesh re-grow with a simple spell, “They don’t put rabies in til the first term.”
There was a silence as the badger, now back in the cage, threw its weight around, occasionally growling. Harry was surprised by how close the older boy was stood to the box, not daring himself to get any closer.
To break the solitude, Wood began talking tactics but they drifted around Harry, but not into. Ron had appeared with Mi at the edge of the Figbitch pitch and he was waving rather madly. Some rapists sat about 50 metres to the left sniggered and although Harry could only see the green robes, he knew Draco was hovering about somewhere.
The speech was finished with some slander against every other team, and some against Fred and George, the people who would hopefully save Harry from rabies, which was what scared the boy most; his life was in the hands of two boys Ron had described as, ‘making retards look like Einstein’.
One question burdened Harry. He knew the theory but doubted he could ever actually accomplish such things.
“Can I practice?”
“No.” Wood snapped
“What?”
“I have a hot date.”
“With who?” Harry tilted his head on one side quizzically.
“Never you mind.”
Harry felt a little awkward later when he saw Wood with a young astronomy professor...
“Barley, she made me fly laps.”
“Good, it’ll help you when you fly after the titch.”
“The what?”
“Damn, we have a lot of work to do…”
Oliver, or Wood, as he insisted on being called, began to explain the rules of Figbitch. Everything from the chasers to the beaters and back to the keepers. The titch was revealed to be a small elf, magically enchanted to fly round the pitch; if Harry caught him the game would be over and 150 points would be added to the wankers’ total; hopefully winning them the game.
“But now…let me show you your death.”
“What?”
“Since your dad…”
“What?”
“Shut it. Since your dad was seeker, no other wanker has survived without being killed by the Badgers.”
“The what?”
“I said shut it. Look like the titch, these guys have wings but ‘stead of elves, they’re rabid badgers.”
Slipping gloves onto both of his hands, Wood picked up a small box, placing it on top of the main Figbitch chest, while he pulled a large golf club out of no where. Casually mentioning how a few of the deaths had been because beaters had hit the seekers with the clubs.
Thrusting out, the badger, with its large wings, threw himself towards Harry, only stopped when the club sent it flying in the other direction. There was a silence before the ravenous growl emerged. Wood dropped his club, encouraging the badger towards his chest, but like a bull taunter he stepped to the side as the creature threw itself back into its prison like compartment, but with not being quick enough to shut it, the badger jumped out, ripping a large chunk of Wood’s lower ear.
“Don’t worry,” he flicked his wand, letting the flesh re-grow with a simple spell, “They don’t put rabies in til the first term.”
There was a silence as the badger, now back in the cage, threw its weight around, occasionally growling. Harry was surprised by how close the older boy was stood to the box, not daring himself to get any closer.
To break the solitude, Wood began talking tactics but they drifted around Harry, but not into. Ron had appeared with Mi at the edge of the Figbitch pitch and he was waving rather madly. Some rapists sat about 50 metres to the left sniggered and although Harry could only see the green robes, he knew Draco was hovering about somewhere.
The speech was finished with some slander against every other team, and some against Fred and George, the people who would hopefully save Harry from rabies, which was what scared the boy most; his life was in the hands of two boys Ron had described as, ‘making retards look like Einstein’.
One question burdened Harry. He knew the theory but doubted he could ever actually accomplish such things.
“Can I practice?”
“No.” Wood snapped
“What?”
“I have a hot date.”
“With who?” Harry tilted his head on one side quizzically.
“Never you mind.”
Harry felt a little awkward later when he saw Wood with a young astronomy professor...