Disclaimer: I still don't own the characters. Except maybe Herman. No, wait, Nita or Dia owns him.
Notes: I'm very sorry this chapter has taken so long. I was suffering through a month long bout of insane writer's block and have only recently (as in last night) been able to write again. Enjoy.
-Part Six –
Monday, September 9, 1991
9:56 A.M.
Cage
Dum dum dum dum … la la la la … I am the happiest iguana alive. Hmm hmmm hmmm … wait a second …I'm singing to a journal. Singing to a journal.
…
…
This fanfiction is really starting to make me insane. Not that I wasn't insane before, of course, but now I think I've even more insane than I ever was before.
Did you know that I peed on Mr. I'm-So-High-And-Mighty-Because-I'm-A-Big-Bad-Slytherin?
Well, I did. And if you don't know that, there's something incredibly wrong with you as the entire school knows about it. Every single person down to ... to … Whimmy the house elf knows about it.
So if you don't even know about the most important experience of my entire life, if you can't even be bothered to pay attention to my very important exploits, then I suppose we're just not as close as we'd originally thought, are we?
10:01 A.M.
Did I really just argue with my journal?
10:04 A.M.
I did.
Good Lord, save me.
11:53 A.M.
Since our little argument I have decided to forgive you only because I have very important news to write in here. Yes, I said I'd forgive you. Be overcome with gratitude, inanimate object, and weep pathetically at my tiny green feet.
Err … right. My important news.
Apparently Sinistra hasn't left her Astronomy tower all day long. Quirrell said that she had breakfast sent up to her so that her 'work' wouldn't be interrupted.
Hah!
Work. What work?
… Oh, right. She's a professor. I keep forgetting these little details.
9:05 P.M.
Hallway
Decided to escape my bonds and see exactly what was wrong with poor Sinistra. I thought that she might need a little cheering up from yours truly. I am, after all, rather cheery.
… When I'm not squeaking or peeing on things, that is.
Damned Dumbledore.
… Right, where was I?
Oh, yes, I was going to see Sinistra. I thought I'd stop by the kitchens and bring her tea or something nice to eat. Like … like that lovely mint meringue Quirrell told me they had after dinner tonight. I wasn't quite sure how I was going to carry it and walk at the same time, but I figured the house elves would be intelligent enough to strap some sort of carrying contraption to my back, wouldn't they?
… Well, wouldn't they?
Anyway, the point is this: As I was struggling up the stairs to her tower she came running past me, her hair all wild and all over the place. She looked very distressed.
It was quite sexy.
I mean it was … alarming. That's it. It was alarming.
Alarming.
Right. Sinistra's distress is alarming. Alarming.
Alarming.
Shut up! It was too alarming.
Anyway … I keep getting off topic. The point of this entry is not how se-alarming her distress was, it was that she almost smushed me. I know it's shocking, but she did. I squeaked with all my might but her foot came down rather close to my head and then she slammed the door behind me, leaving me locked out on the stairs.
Bloody hell. It had only taken me an hour to climb up, but now I have to climb back down.
Bloody hell.
9:34 P.M.
I fell down the damned stairs.
That is all.
9:44 P.M.
My toes hurt.
9:59 P.M.
Hallway near the dungeons
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-gasp-OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
He has her diary.
The complete Bastard has Sinistra's diary. I just saw him duck onto the dungeon staircase with it clutched in this claw-like grip. (Trust me, I've been clutched by him, I know that grip can be quite claw-like.)
And how did I know it was Sinistra's, you may be asking? Well, because it had her bloody name written on the front cover. Who the hell throws away a diary with her name displayed proudly on the cover?
…
…
Perhaps I ought to erase the 'Herman E. Iguana' I wrote on you earlier, hmmm?
10:09 P.M.
I've been here for quite some time debating if I should go after him and try to save the diary. It would be very noble and perhaps Sinistra would reward me with a big kiss.
GASP!
Maybe I'm like one of those frogs who turn into princes when they've been kissed!
GASP!
Maybe I'm a world savior trapped in the body of an iguana, just waiting for the right woman to come alone and give me the kiss of true love before I can be returned to my former state and save the world from the eeeeevil Dark Lord and sweep said woman away for a ocean side marriage and a life full of joy and happiness.
Wow, that diary is worth everything to me.
…
Meh, my toes still hurt. There's no way I'm tackling more stairs tonight.
Thursday, September 12, 1991
2:12 P.M.
Cage
Have just discovered most perplexing news. Apparently Whimmy the house elf is in love with Sinistra too.
Honestly, this is just getting RIDICULOUS!
2:15 P.M.
I mean, what's an iguana to do?
2:17 P.M.
Not just any iguana, mind you. A world saving prince trapped in the body of an iguana. I'm just an iguana being pitted against a house elf and a greasy human for the love of a good woman.
2:21 P.M.
Ooh, boy, if I was in my prince form, they'd be completely blown out of the water.
Bastards.
… Now, I wonder if I can get Quirrell to give me the kiss of true love to restore my former self. He seems to like me enough to do it.
4:16 P.M.
My heart is broken. My little heart is shattered in two.
Whimmy just came to visit me, the gloating bastard.
He said Sinistra kissed him and I knew at once that it was true. He smelled like her.
Sigh.
I'm so depressed. Can iguanas commit suicide?
4:35 P.M.
No, apparently they can't.
5:16 P.M.
Well, the good news is that Sinistra has her diary back, as I saw her scurrying back to her tower with it in her hands.
The other good news is that Harry Potter is the new Gryffindor Seeker. Muahahahahaha! If that news doesn't make Snape want to stick his head in a boiling bucket of slugs, I don't know what will.
The bad news is that I am still an iguana.
And lemme tell you, Quirrell is a very bad kisser.
That is all that needs to be said on this matter.
Excuse me while I go vomit.