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After DracoTom’s departure Skittles spent a great deal of time pretending to be a hawk. This involved preening her feathers; swooping down upon small rodents, breaking their necks, and eating them; and flying. Flying in this case simply being running about with her arms extended.
Hissyfit yawned wide. “Lord, I am so bored,” she said. She had briefly enjoyed hunting rodents with Skittles, especially as she relished swallowing the small beings whole. To achieve this feat, she first chomped on the cranium to break up the skull and made it more palatable going down. But perhaps that is too much true-to-life detail, so let us merely say that she relished the rodents, but was now full and bored.
“It’s not yet nightfall,” Skittles told her.
“So?”
“We must wait till nightfall to reconvene with DracoTom and make our move.”
“Says who?”
“Says the aforementioned pale wizard, that’s who.”
“Since when do you take orders from that freak?”
Skittles stopped and lowered her arms. “That’s a good question,” she mused. “I don’t take orders from anyone! Besides Roggie and Alli, anyway! And occasionally Ms Martinet! And my parents! Also, the muffin man.”
“The muffin man?”
“Yes, the muffin man. Do you know the muffin man?”
“The one who lives on Drury Lane?”
“Yes. Anyway, I don’t take orders from Malfelton. So there’s no need to wait till night and reconvene.”
Hissyfit flicked her tail and nodded. “What shall we do?”
“Hunt wereducks, of course.”
“Wreck havoc? Cause mass hysteria?”
“If said wrecking and causing is done to wereducks, yes.” Skittles turned on her heel and stalked off down the corridor. “Come along, then, we have to round up the likely suspects and jump to conclusions and make vague statements and overuse conjunctives.”
Hissyfit trotted off after her, ears perked up with anticipation.
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