Post by Rachael on Nov 9, 2011 13:39:06 GMT -8
Title: Yes, Master
Rating: G
Word Count: 300
Warnings: none
Summary: Quirrell being his wimpy self, while trying to do his Master's bidding!
Quirinus Quirrell eyed the broomstick in his hand. He knew what his Master wanted. He wasn’t sure he could do it, but he knew he had to try. It was try...or die...and Quirinus wanted to live, thank you very much! He flinched when he realized that his Master might very well be reading his thoughts right now! His hands tightened around the shaft of the broom. Tentatively, Quirinus straddled the broom, being sure to make himself comfortable He did not want to injure himself after all.
The broom wobbled as it rose in the air. His chest constricting instantly, Quirinus clung to the broom. He would fall off otherwise; he knew he would! He tightened his grip on the shaft and suddenly the broom bucked like a crazed hippogriff. Quirinus yelped as the broom threw him off and tossed him on the ground, where he landed in a bedraggled heap, his face stuck in the dirt, and his rear end up in the air, like a gigantic target for whoever wanted to give him a surprise kick. “Fool!” said his Master’s voice, harsh and cold, from within the turban wrapped around Quirinus’ head. “Get up! Get up! Try again, you worthless Half-Blood filth!”
A lancing pain pierced Quirinus’ mind, a form of torture almost too cruel to pair. Quirinus shut his eyes, and grovelled in the dirt, whimpering in agony. The pain eased after three agonizing minutes. “Try again,” his Master hissed once more. “You must succeed if I am to get possession of that stone! Again!”
“Yes, Master,” Quirinus gasped, eyes snapping open as he scrambled to his feet. He needed to get the hang of using a broomstick. He had to! His Master needed his own body! Once in his own body, the Potter brat would be destroyed!
Rating: G
Word Count: 300
Warnings: none
Summary: Quirrell being his wimpy self, while trying to do his Master's bidding!
Quirinus Quirrell eyed the broomstick in his hand. He knew what his Master wanted. He wasn’t sure he could do it, but he knew he had to try. It was try...or die...and Quirinus wanted to live, thank you very much! He flinched when he realized that his Master might very well be reading his thoughts right now! His hands tightened around the shaft of the broom. Tentatively, Quirinus straddled the broom, being sure to make himself comfortable He did not want to injure himself after all.
The broom wobbled as it rose in the air. His chest constricting instantly, Quirinus clung to the broom. He would fall off otherwise; he knew he would! He tightened his grip on the shaft and suddenly the broom bucked like a crazed hippogriff. Quirinus yelped as the broom threw him off and tossed him on the ground, where he landed in a bedraggled heap, his face stuck in the dirt, and his rear end up in the air, like a gigantic target for whoever wanted to give him a surprise kick. “Fool!” said his Master’s voice, harsh and cold, from within the turban wrapped around Quirinus’ head. “Get up! Get up! Try again, you worthless Half-Blood filth!”
A lancing pain pierced Quirinus’ mind, a form of torture almost too cruel to pair. Quirinus shut his eyes, and grovelled in the dirt, whimpering in agony. The pain eased after three agonizing minutes. “Try again,” his Master hissed once more. “You must succeed if I am to get possession of that stone! Again!”
“Yes, Master,” Quirinus gasped, eyes snapping open as he scrambled to his feet. He needed to get the hang of using a broomstick. He had to! His Master needed his own body! Once in his own body, the Potter brat would be destroyed!
What sort of poor unfortunate wizard grows up without the knack of riding a broomstick? 
