Harry Cotter and the Philosopher’s Brothel.
The Feisty Forrest
Harry woke up in a cold sweat, his scar pounding heavily. On feeling vibrations, Ron also awoke, immediately asking his friend what was wrong:
“I had a dream…my life was a story…on some site…and the writer wasn’t sticking to a plot…she just had a few chapters of random waffling.”
“Ah well, don’t worry, it’s all over now…”
***
Term had begun with a bump and a rather lumpy one at that. Snarp had discovered the reason for all the posters and given the boys detention along with Draco for his Photoshop work. Tuesday, when the punishment was suppose to take place, was Snarp’s bingo night, so Haggis had the job of looking after the three boys. Also busy, Haggis took the boys on his nightly stroll, collecting things.
“Tuesday’s a shit night.”
“Pfft, like every night’s not rubbish.” Draco sniped
“Nah, it’s a grand night, but we’re collecting shit.”
“From where?”
“Feisty Forrest.”
“Bu…” Draco was cut off my Ron
“Why’s it called Feisty?”
“No one comes out without being molested by feisty ferrets…’cept this time of year”
“Phew.”
“Nah, this time of year the unicorns’ll punch you.”
“What?”
“Anyway,” Haggis smiled, looking up and ignoring Draco, “Let’s get going.”
Crisp noises were created by their footsteps crunching through the frozen leaves. Molar darted around, his tail swingy wildly, stalked by Draco who didn’t realise what a scaredy cat the large mutt was.
Haggis, taking deep swigs of vodka, was singing ‘You can’t stop the beat’ but changing the word beat to heat, dancing rather seductively around loose ferns and tree stumps. The two wankers had been giggling between themselves, being surprisingly calm about being accompanied on an adventure with a midget giant with a shot gun.
They all saw it together.
A dark cloaked figure was stood tall above the body of the silvery unicorn, boxing gloves upon the hooves. A large slit down the mane of the creature revealed its pink speckled blood.
“Fuck.”
Draco immediately regretted speaking as the figure stood up, spinning round, the hood still covering the face. Chuckling, the person, or thing, stepped forward. Speaking in a hissing style:
“Boo.”
“I had a dream…my life was a story…on some site…and the writer wasn’t sticking to a plot…she just had a few chapters of random waffling.”
“Ah well, don’t worry, it’s all over now…”
***
Term had begun with a bump and a rather lumpy one at that. Snarp had discovered the reason for all the posters and given the boys detention along with Draco for his Photoshop work. Tuesday, when the punishment was suppose to take place, was Snarp’s bingo night, so Haggis had the job of looking after the three boys. Also busy, Haggis took the boys on his nightly stroll, collecting things.
“Tuesday’s a shit night.”
“Pfft, like every night’s not rubbish.” Draco sniped
“Nah, it’s a grand night, but we’re collecting shit.”
“From where?”
“Feisty Forrest.”
“Bu…” Draco was cut off my Ron
“Why’s it called Feisty?”
“No one comes out without being molested by feisty ferrets…’cept this time of year”
“Phew.”
“Nah, this time of year the unicorns’ll punch you.”
“What?”
“Anyway,” Haggis smiled, looking up and ignoring Draco, “Let’s get going.”
Crisp noises were created by their footsteps crunching through the frozen leaves. Molar darted around, his tail swingy wildly, stalked by Draco who didn’t realise what a scaredy cat the large mutt was.
Haggis, taking deep swigs of vodka, was singing ‘You can’t stop the beat’ but changing the word beat to heat, dancing rather seductively around loose ferns and tree stumps. The two wankers had been giggling between themselves, being surprisingly calm about being accompanied on an adventure with a midget giant with a shot gun.
They all saw it together.
A dark cloaked figure was stood tall above the body of the silvery unicorn, boxing gloves upon the hooves. A large slit down the mane of the creature revealed its pink speckled blood.
“Fuck.”
Draco immediately regretted speaking as the figure stood up, spinning round, the hood still covering the face. Chuckling, the person, or thing, stepped forward. Speaking in a hissing style:
“Boo.”