What do you see?

Posted on July 20, 2011 by | 7 Comments

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7 Responses to What do you see?

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  3. Sarah | July 20, 2011 at 7:51 am |

    A short one for you this time – and a twist on it too, I just can’t help myself.

    The birds flew at each other, feathers ripped and scattering across the grass. No blood had been shed yet but it wouldn’t be long.
    The surrounding crowd cheered. “Go on, get him good!”
    No-one was sure who had started it. They were always fighting, just as their fathers and grandfathers had hated and fought each other all through their school days. The older generation had somehow found an uneasy peace in adulthood but the memories of their teens ran deep. They still glared across the room at parent’s evenings, but it was always the same one who looked away first.
    But this was the children, again, looking like their fathers and behaving like them too. .
    The birds fought viciously, pecking at eyes, tearing at one another.
    “Go for his tail!” Someone yelled, clear above the cacophony of cheers, boos, groans.
    “That will be quite enough of that!” A louder voice, behind the encircling crowd of children. He pushed through, they parted to let him pass. He’d earned their respect before most of them had even been born.
    He raised his wand and the birds transformed into two battered, angry boys, pinned to the spot.
    “Does anyone else want to join these two in my office?”
    The crowd melted away, but not before he’d taken mental note of most of the faces.
    “Albus Potter, Scorpius Malfoy, into my office, now. I will be informing your Heads of House and your parents.”
    “Sorry, Professor Longbottom. He started it, he called Lily a mudblood!” The shorter boy protested.
    “Be quiet for now, you can both tell me in my office. Now, move. You know the way.” He propelled the two boys ahead of him, muttering. “Underage transformation, fighting on school premises.” He ticked off the list of misdemeanours on his fingers as they reached the herbology greenhouses where he kept his untidy office.
    “Albus,” he whispered, afterwards “get Scorpius to ask his father about the time a Professor here turned him into a ferret.” He winked.

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