Inner Musings

"I am." It's supposedly the shortest sentence possible in the English language. But what about "No." Your thoughts tease and tempt at the back of your mind as you really do ponder over these things on your way down to the dungeon. Either way, it didn't really matter what was shorter. They both got you into trouble. True you were just trying to tickle some odd rebellious streak, but now you have double detentions, and you are QUITE certain, the one with Professor Trelawney was enough. Now you must be graced with the not-so-pleasant attributes and characteristics of the Slytherin Head of House.

How this rebellion was turning into such a vile thing.

Although you find that you don't care what your peers say. No detention, no not even with Snape, could be worse than with the Divination instructor. After all, she's creepy!

And listening to false tales of visions long since past, whilst cleaning someone else's soggy, brown, used, tea leaf sopped cup HAD to be worse than whatever the Potions master could throw at you, right?

Right?

What was that old saying... Eat a live frog every morning for breakfast, that way nothing worse can happen to you for the rest of the day? Well, crystal balls and oracle stones were the equivalent of frogs in this scenario. Live frogs, as far as you're concerned. Breathing, croaking, jumpy, slimy, wart sharing, live frogs.

No, no. You're quite certain you can handle yourself on this one.

With a quick glance at the time, you see that you are halfway from where you were to where you need to be. All the way across the castle... To the Dungeons.

Honestly, who decided that Slytherin should reside in the drab of the dungeons, you find yourself musing. What good could it possibly do?

You find that you are a respectable person, coming from a respectable house, and as such, you carry respectable ideas... But the whole evil dominating thing has gotten just a little out of hand, are you wrong?

Of course not!

Moments, and musings, later you find yourself on the final stairwell that will descend to the harsh stone underground tombs. A thin air lies about the place, but you don't let that fool you. You can smell the very scent of potions long since brewed, and honestly! You can smell Snape's hair all the way from here.

One step at a time brings you to Hell.

But for now, you remain brave.

Gods! Half of your Friday night gone and wasted already, and now here goes the other half.

You once read somewhere that the average human can hold their breath for three minutes before passing out. Three minutes. That's about all you need, right? Every three minutes... Just take a breath. As little fumes as possible is all you can hope to ask for.

That or to just not be here at all. Oh well, cest la vie.

Door goes push; breath sucks in. There is the Professor...

"I was wondering when you would arrive." He says slyly, as he plops some mandrakes to be cut right in front of you. "And why in Merlin's beard are you holding your breath?"

Well, here goes nothing... Apparently, frogs aren't enough for you, not even the live ones.