- Rating:
- G
- House:
- Riddikulus
- Genres:
- Humor
- Era:
- Multiple Eras
- Spoilers:
- Philosopher's Stone
- Stats:
-
Published: 09/28/2001Updated: 09/28/2001Words: 349Chapters: 1Hits: 799
Cauldron Trouble
METMA Mandy
- Story Summary:
- This is from the point of view of Neville's cauldron. Poor thing -- wouldn't you hate to be mangled by Neville's mishaps in Potions?
- Chapter Summary:
- This is from the point of view of Neville's caudron. _Poor thing -- wouldn't you hate to be mangled by Neville's mishaps in Potions?
- Posted:
- 09/28/2001
- Hits:
- 799
- Author's Note:
- This is another one of my object ficcys! Hope you like it, join METMA (Muggles for Equal Treatment of Magical Articles) for only 2 sickles! Thanks to everyone who reviewed my other stories, I luuuuv you!! *huggles reviewers* Erm ... READ!
***
Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble. Before, this was a remark I would never use and saw as an insult to cauldrons everywhere as well as a cheesy cliche. Of course ... that was before I met Neville.
Or rather, Neville met me. His poor grandmother (who had NO dress sense---i mean, feather hat? Snakeskin purse?) had the foresight to buy the thickest cauldron in the shop. And that was me! After weeks of sitting in a shop I thought being bought was the best thing in the world! I just couldn't wait for an owner who would lovingly care for me -- polish me, read stories to me, tuck me in at night...I wanted it all!
Turns out, being bought isn't so great if your owner is a klutz whose knowledge of potions is so tiny that if brains were water, an enraged piranha would last only a couple seconds. And the number of times that boy has nearly burned a hole through me! Disgraceful!
The POTIONS that boy has made! At my last count, he has accidentally invented seven different varieties of stink bombs--each more potent than the next. Even Fred and George Weasley, who live with RON, for goodness sake, gag when Neville's been making potions. My girlfriend, the cauldron across the room owned by Draco Malfoy, edges away every time I come near, I smell so bad! THE INJUSTICE!
Every time that slimy git, Snape, leans over to check Neville's (horribly wrong) potion, his greasy hair drips, drips, drips all over my shiny finish. (5 Sickles, made in Salem, the cauldron capitol of the world!) The damage is so irreversible I now look like I've been roasted--complete with basting -- for ... oh, I'd say 2 hours by a team of helpful house elves! Bon Appetite! -.-
My once thick bottom, guaranteed to make it through the most TOXIC potion, has deteriorated to a parchment thin layer sure to crack at any moment.
Well, I guess not ALL life with Neville is terrible. When I break, I'll be sure to mangle that bugger Snape!
***
Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble. Before, this was a remark I would never use and saw as an insult to cauldrons everywhere as well as a cheesy cliche. Of course ... that was before I met Neville.
Or rather, Neville met me. His poor grandmother (who had NO dress sense---i mean, feather hat? Snakeskin purse?) had the foresight to buy the thickest cauldron in the shop. And that was me! After weeks of sitting in a shop I thought being bought was the best thing in the world! I just couldn't wait for an owner who would lovingly care for me -- polish me, read stories to me, tuck me in at night...I wanted it all!
Turns out, being bought isn't so great if your owner is a klutz whose knowledge of potions is so tiny that if brains were water, an enraged piranha would last only a couple seconds. And the number of times that boy has nearly burned a hole through me! Disgraceful!
The POTIONS that boy has made! At my last count, he has accidentally invented seven different varieties of stink bombs--each more potent than the next. Even Fred and George Weasley, who live with RON, for goodness sake, gag when Neville's been making potions. My girlfriend, the cauldron across the room owned by Draco Malfoy, edges away every time I come near, I smell so bad! THE INJUSTICE!
Every time that slimy git, Snape, leans over to check Neville's (horribly wrong) potion, his greasy hair drips, drips, drips all over my shiny finish. (5 Sickles, made in Salem, the cauldron capitol of the world!) The damage is so irreversible I now look like I've been roasted--complete with basting -- for ... oh, I'd say 2 hours by a team of helpful house elves! Bon Appetite! -.-
My once thick bottom, guaranteed to make it through the most TOXIC potion, has deteriorated to a parchment thin layer sure to crack at any moment.
Well, I guess not ALL life with Neville is terrible. When I break, I'll be sure to mangle that bugger Snape!
***
Author notes: Hehe! Poor, poor cauldron. Life with Neville must be hell! Sorry about the Ron crack, I really like him in the books, I just always make him smell in my fics! Go figure!