Post by Ink on Nov 12, 2011 15:07:53 GMT -8
Riddle me this
Rating:PG-13
Warnings: Language, Disturbing Imagery
Word Count: 284
Summary: Tom Riddle has his first flying lesson
Tom did not understand how it was possible for him to be the only practical person in his year. It really would not be that big of a deal to move the first flying lesson of the year to a later date, preferably a date on which the sky was not dumping buckets (upon buckets, upon buckets) of water on their heads.
No one agreed with him however, which was why he and his house were standing across from the Gryffindors in the middle of the mud-filled quidditch pitch.
“Right, you lot,” boomed their instructor (a grey haired old man who seemed to be perpetually in a bad mood), “say ‘up,’ mount the things and fly around for a bit, if you need me I’ll be in the teachers lounge, out of this Merlin-damned weather.”
And then he turned around and walked back up to the castle, leaving the wet band of students alone in the dreary atmosphere.
Tom was glad to note, though not altogether surprised, he always had been good at this kind of thing, that his was the first broom to come up, smacking into his hand with a thump. Wanting to keep his rather impressive lead, Tom quickly mounted his broom. . . and promptly slid off the wet wood and into the mud below.
The resulting laughter was tremendous, led by Gryffindor’s Millie Creston.
“Looks like the little snake can’t fly,” she screeched.
A week later Millie was found frozen, hanging naked, upside down from a rope tied to her ankle, off the top of the astronomy tower with no memory of her brief Hogwarts life. No one suspected a first year, least of all charming young Tom Riddle.
Rating:PG-13
Warnings: Language, Disturbing Imagery
Word Count: 284
Summary: Tom Riddle has his first flying lesson
Tom did not understand how it was possible for him to be the only practical person in his year. It really would not be that big of a deal to move the first flying lesson of the year to a later date, preferably a date on which the sky was not dumping buckets (upon buckets, upon buckets) of water on their heads.
No one agreed with him however, which was why he and his house were standing across from the Gryffindors in the middle of the mud-filled quidditch pitch.
“Right, you lot,” boomed their instructor (a grey haired old man who seemed to be perpetually in a bad mood), “say ‘up,’ mount the things and fly around for a bit, if you need me I’ll be in the teachers lounge, out of this Merlin-damned weather.”
And then he turned around and walked back up to the castle, leaving the wet band of students alone in the dreary atmosphere.
Tom was glad to note, though not altogether surprised, he always had been good at this kind of thing, that his was the first broom to come up, smacking into his hand with a thump. Wanting to keep his rather impressive lead, Tom quickly mounted his broom. . . and promptly slid off the wet wood and into the mud below.
The resulting laughter was tremendous, led by Gryffindor’s Millie Creston.
“Looks like the little snake can’t fly,” she screeched.
A week later Millie was found frozen, hanging naked, upside down from a rope tied to her ankle, off the top of the astronomy tower with no memory of her brief Hogwarts life. No one suspected a first year, least of all charming young Tom Riddle.
