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The Ron To My Harry || Simades

@simba-lyons

Hades swept into the Gryffindor Common Room in a flurry of scarlet, his robes billowing around him.

“Simba!” he snapped loudly, fiercely, startling the younger students who were lounging on the sofa. They stared up at him with their wide eyes. One clutched their toad to their chest.

Hades resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the lot of them and their simpering. Now was not the time to get upset, even though his whole chest was tight, his emotions on edge like a freshly woken dragon, hungry for blood. He said simply, “Simba. Where is he?”

They stared at him. They looked at each other.

“Um...”

“Er...”

"Oh never mind-- SIMBA!” Hades roared again and he stalked through the lobby and then into the corridors. He nearly tripped over someone’s bloody trunk and when he hissed and looked down he saw the Wampus crest stamped on top. Bloody hell, he was going to kill every last one of those Americans.

He stepped over the trunk and found Simba-- there, finally! “Simba. Talk. Now.” Hades grunted stiffly and then promptly sat down on Simba’s bed.

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Comin’ Outta My Cage 🐢 || Simber [BHP]

@simba-lyons

Berlioz had lost his turtle.

How did one lose a turtle, you might wonder, yeah? Toads, sure, made sense. Owls and cats, well those were quick and cunning. But turtle? Why had Berlioz even brought his turtle out in the bloody first place?

The answer was that Berlioz hadn’t let Turtle outta his cage, Turtle had let Turtle outta his cage. Magic turtles, especially of the Eastern Box variety, were actually really tricky little creatures. They had this hinge on their shell that they used to close themselves up, sort of like doors. And a creature with a built-in door on their bodies meant they knew a thing or two about doors-- opening doors, closing doors, picking locks. Masters of escape, a turtle, with a built-in GPA too, which meant a wizard could never got lost. Turtles were excellent pets for an “adventurer” “Thunderbird” like Berlioz.

In other words, Turtle was homesick.

And Turtle was trying to make this way back to the U.S.A. God, he’d never get through customs.

Berlioz was frantic.

It was his own damn fault, not paying attention! So he scurried floor by floor. Up from the dungeons into the kitchen-- up from the kitchens and onto the first floor-- up from the first floor to the second floor, down the hallway and into every open room.

“Turtle! Turtle, aw c’mon! Accio Turtle--” he started to say as he turned down a hallway, flourishing his wand--