Þetta er fanfic;) Þessi lýsing er á fictional character sem var gerður sem comic relief. Reyndar á þremur fictional characters…í sama fanfici…
http://www.hgnetwork.co.uk/siye/viewstory.php?sid=3208 - Kafli 6: The Half-Blood Prince who looked rather like an old lion.
Af því að ég hef nákvæmlega ekkert annað að gera þá ætla ég að pósta stuttu broti úr kaflanum…og hvet alla til að lesa hann allan…
The rest of the ride to Hogwarts passed uneventfully, just as it always does after the events are over. When they arrived at the station, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Luna, and Ginny, who had joined them when they changed compartments, had an uneventful ride up to the school in the thestral-pulled carriages. In fact, nothing eventful happened until after the sorting.
“Good morning Hogwarts,” said Dumbledore delightfully-eccentrically, even though it was definitely no longer morning unless you lived on a very different part of the world which would make it very difficult for you to be in Hogwarts hearing Dumbledore say “Good morning Hogwarts” delightfully-eccentrically, eh?
“It’s not morning, you crazy old coot!” exclaimed an unknown voice from one of the tables, which Dumbledore conveniently did not hear.
“Welcome to another year at Hogwarts!” said Dumbledore, holding his arms out in greeting so that all the students could tell how very much Dumbledore wanted to give them all a hug.
“This year, I would like to announce a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher—oh, darn it all. I did this last year, didn’t I?” Dumbledore asked, frowning. “And the year before that?”
The students nodded regretfully.
“And the year before that?”
The students nodded regretfully.
“And the year before that?”
The students nodded regretfully.
“And the year before that?”
The students nodded regretfully.
“And the year before that?”
The students nodded regretfully.
“And the year before that?”
The students nodde—
(Of course someone is about to interrupt because ‘nodde‘ is not a word, is it?)
“No you didn’t, you old coot!” interrupted the unknown voice, who liked to ‘say’ coot, even though the quotation marks should have been ‘around’ coot and not ‘around’ say, because that would ‘imply’ he didn’t really like to say coot.
“I didn’t?” Dumbledore asked confuzzledly which by now everyone should know is not a word, but should be.
“No, you old coot! The curse started with Quirrell, you old coot!” As you can see, the unknown voice did not only like to ‘say’ coot very much, but he liked to say ‘coot’ very much.
“Who are you, anyway?” squinted Dumbledore into the crowd, even though ‘squinted’ is not a way to speak and so Dumbledore could not have ‘squinted’ the words. “And why ‘is’ coot an anagram ‘for’ toco?”
“It is I!” said Unky-Voicy, standing up from the Gryffindor Table where he happened to be sitting next to Harry, who hadn’t noticed and now jumped a foot in the air, conveniently landing on Ginny’s lap. “Professor Saycoot!”
Professor Saycoot looked familiar to Harry for some strange reason. He looked rather like an old lion. There were streaks of grey in his mane of tawny hair and his bushy eyebrows; he had keen yellowish eyes behind a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles and a certain rangy, loping grace even though he walked with a slight limp.
How would I know? wondered Harry.
I’ve never seen him walk!“Professor Saycoot!” Dumbledore exclaimed. “Welcome to Hogwarts! When did you get here?”
“In the past,” said Professor Saycoot, marching towards the staff table. “Before this moment.”
“But of course,” said Dumbledore courteously.
“I OBJECT!” shouted a not-unknown-voice at the teachers’ table. It was not-unknown because it was quite clear who had spoken. “I am the new Defence teacher, you impostor!”
Harry thought that the man who had jumped up at the teachers’ table looked vaguely familiar. He looked rather like an old lion. There were streaks of grey in his mane of tawny hair and his bushy eyebrows; he had keen yellowish eyes behind a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles and a certain rangy, loping grace even though he walked with a slight limp.
“I am no impostor, you old coot!” said Professor Saycoot.
“Yes you are an impostor, impostor!”
“No, I’m not!”
“No,
I am!” shouted a voice from the Slytherin table; it went unnoticed.
“Impostor!”
“Coot!”
“Impostor!”
“Coot!”
“Impostor—”
“Professor Sayimpostor!” said Dumbledore, jumping up to physically restrain the man at the teachers’ table. “Professor Sayimpostor, are you saying that I’ve hired two Defence teachers by mistake?”
“No, I’m ‘saying’
impostor!” Sayimpostor said, snarling at Saycoot.
“Only an old coot could hire two Defence teachers by mistake,” muttered Saycoot.
“Are you two related?” Dumbledore asked suddenly, rubbing his chin. “I sense a resemblance. In fact, do either of you know my brother Aberforth? You look just like him…”
“Coot!”
“Impostor!”
“Coot!”
“Impostor!”
“SILENCE!”
Everyone’s gazes jumped from the argument by the teachers’ table to the great Dubbledores—er…
double doors, where a man was standing that Harry had never seen before, even though he looked uncannily familiar. He looked rather like an old lion. There were streaks of grey in his mane of tawny hair and his bushy eyebrows; he had keen yellowish eyes behind a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles and a certain rangy, loping grace even though he walked with a slight limp. In fact, he was walking with a slight limp right up towards Sayimpostor and Saycoot.
“Who the hell are you?” said Saycoot and Sayimpostor, before each adding a ‘Coot!’ and an “Impostor!” quietly.
“I’m yer friendly neighbourhood Spiderman o’ course,” said the Man sarcastically. Ron jumped up frenetically from his seat next to Harry and crawled quickly under the table, crying, “Spider—! Mummy!” softly and sucking his thumb frantically—(“
Honestly,” said Hermione exasperatedly).
“-ly” word count in previous paragraph: eight.
“I’m Perfesser McClaggan o’ course,” said the Man—McClaggan, apparently—not-so-sarcastically.
“You can’t be a professor, you old coot!” said Saycoot harshly.
“Yeah, you’ve got to be another impostor, impostor!” said Sayimpostor harsherly, which is not a word and I don’t suppose anyone’s ever used it before anyways, despite it meaning ‘harsher than Saycoot because he‘s an impostor.’
“I’m not’n impostor anymore’n he’s an ol’ coot,” said McClaggan, nodding towards Dumbledore.
“Than you are an impostor!” said Saycoot. “Most definitely!”
“Hey, you can’t ‘say’ impostor!” said Sayimpostor. “That’s
my word!”
“Will you all just
shut up?” demanded Professor Snape from the teachers’ table, standing up suddenly, frustrated.
“Hey, he can’t be a professor!” said Sayimpostor, pointing at Professor Snape. “Only I’m a professor!”
“I’m a professor too, you old coot,” said Saycoot.
“There’s more’n one perfesser in the worl’,” said McClaggan.
“Why don’t you just hurry up and say who the Half-Blood Prince is?” demanded Professor Snape from the teachers’ table, impatient for the story to get along so he could return to his quarters. He had a very large collection in fact, of American quarters; one of the largest in all of England, even though they were in Scotland, because both are part of the UK, along with Northern Ireland, though none of which are nearly as unpleasant nor geographically intimidating as Greenland. “We all know it’s got to be one of you three.”
“The Half Blood Prince?” said Saycoot.
“The Half-Blood Prince?” said McClaggin.
“Who in the world is the Half Blood Prince?” said Sayimpostor, glaring at the so-called impostors.
“Oh, don’t you two
read?” said Snape exasperatedly.
“There’s three o’ us!” said McClaggan.
“The Half-Blood Prince is supposed to—” began Snape, only to be cut off by—
“Look!” said Luna Lovegood. “It’s a singing troupe of Snorkacks! Where’s my camera?”
Snorkack, Ork! Ack! Crumple-dee-do!
I’ve got another puzzle for you!
Snorkack, Ork! Ack! Crumple-da-dee!
Who in the world could the Half Blood Prince be—
“Hold it!
Hold it!” cried Remus Lupin, charging into the Great Hall unexpectedly. “Snorkacks! Out! You were last chapter!” The Snorkacks coloured deeply, though of course it was difficult to tell with all the orange, and hurried out of the Hall. “Hustle, hustle,” said Lupin shooing the last one out. “Excuse us,” he apologised to the crowd.
“As I was saying,” continued Snape, glaring at the closing double doors, “the Half-Blood Prince is supposed to—”
“Look at the time!” interrupted Dumbledore. “Off to bed with the lot of you!”
Hugi notar vefkökur til að bæta notendaupplifun á vefsíðunni og greina umferð um hana.
Einnig hefur Hugi uppfært persónuverndarstefnu sína.