It's Not Easy Being Green
The Confessions of Quirrell's Iguana
By Bohemian Storm
Disclaimer: The following characters all belong to JKR in her complete and utter brilliance. I'm not quite sure who owns Herman anymore.
Notes: I can't even begin to explain this. It's a spin off of two wonderful fics 'Lamentations of a Starry-Eyed Twit' by She's a Star and 'Diaries of a Dungeon Dwelling Moron' by Gedia Kacela. They are to blame for this insanity.
Dedication: To the girls; Nita, Milla and Dia. May Herman protect you. *grins*
Saturday, August 31, 1991
Quirrell insists on dragging me everywhere. I'm an iguana for Merlin's sake, not a dog! I don't do the walk thing. He certainly learned that lesson when he tried to put me on a leash and I bit him.
Not that I enjoyed it. Much.
Honest. He tastes like onions.
Point being he takes me wherever he can. He would take me to the table at meals if Dumbledore allowed it and this time there was an iguana at the yearly staff meeting. Lucky guy that I was, I learned all about the amazing, astounding, sparking, magical, magnificent, beautiful Philosopher's Stone.
If I could deadpan, I would.
Besides the amazing, astounding - repeat all adjectives I used above – Philosopher's Stone I was witness to some of the most intense scowling and sneering I've seen in a very long time. And if you've seen me, you know I'm a big iguana. I'm old. I've seen a lot of sneering, but none that could rival that of Severus Snape.
Spent his evening sneering at that Starry-Eyed twit Sinistra. As if she needed his eyes on her, she's messed up enough as is. I recall hearing about her little . . . liason with Professor Sandersought two years ago.
Ah yes, the things one can hear if he's relatively small and green.
Was relatively impressed with the twit's comeback of 'dungeon-dwelling hygienically ignorant moron'.
McGonagall interrupted the fight. Damn her. It could have been interesting. After all, I've never seen two people so obviously in love and so obviously fighting it. They might have gone from words to fists and then deadly weapons.
I've seen the twit with a coffee cup and she wields it like a sword.
There could have been blood.
Not that I would have liked that.
I'm an iguana, not a vampire.
If anyone's a vampire it's the overgrown bat. He scares even me. An iguana. What scares an iguana?
Severus Snape, apparently. Not that I'm dwelling on the fact that the bastard scares me. He doesn't. I'm just pointing out that if something did scare iguanas it might be a certain dungeon-dwelling moron.
That is a sharp little nickname. I think I'll keep it.
Beginning to like the twit more and more.
Monday, September 2, 1991
Still the Cage
He's noisy. He's always noisy. You think he'd realize he had a sleeping iguana in the room considering he carries me around like a doll. It's early and he's noisy.
Bastard. Though not such a bastard as Snape. He wins that title.
Yes . . . the highlight of my pitiful day. Naming Severus Snape the Biggest Bastard Of Hogwarts. I, Herman the Iguana, shall present the award to him the day I CAN WALK AND GROW ARMS.
Excuse me while I weep.
Iguanas don't cry.
Thought you ought to know.
Overheard Sinistra muttering to herself today. There was something about Sandersought (and if I could cackle, I would have . . . extensively and most likely evilly as well), more about Harry Potter (just a boy, I couldn't care less) and …
Destiny du Maurier.
Unfortunately I never had the chance to meet her. Unfortunate, in that utterly sarcastic way iguanas have. Quirrell reads her novels.
It's enough to make me want to claw out my ears.
Have also changed my mind about not caring about Harry Potter. How can one not care about the boy who will make Snape's life miserable day in and day out? This will be a brilliant year, I kid you not.
Quirrell once told me of an episode he heard about when Snape was a student at Hogwarts. It seems young Harry's father turned Snape's hair pink. I must admit, to see that would be the highlight of my life.
The overgrown bat . . . in pink.
Too bad I'm an iguana. Damn.
Still In The Blasted Cage
It's come to my attention that certain . . . members of the faculty (particularly those of the female persuasion) are head over heels in love with one Gilderoy Lockhart I caught a glimpse of one of his books earlier on my morning walk.
(You tell anyone about that and I'll bite you more times than I bit Quirrell!)
He's nothing special. Nothing compared to my own master, obviously.
I find it sad that Quirrell doesn't date. He should. He's semi-young. I'm not really a good judge of age seeing as I'll probably die in two years.
But anyway . . .
Maybe I should try to set him up. It might be a little difficult seeing as I'm a . . . do I even have to say it? But that Sinistra twit might be an easy target. She seems . . . desperate.
Operation: Quirrell and Sinistra is a go.
Give me a break. You think you could come up with a better code name in two seconds and write it down as quickly as I did?
. . . How in the world am I writing this anyway?