Written for Sloaners’ Discord’s 30 minute gift exchange with the prompt “Harry” and “snitch.” Hope you like it, @uintuva.
Dudley has just finished another year of school, while Harry has finished his first. Dudley’s reward for this is going on holiday with Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon; Harry’s reward is not going, which is just fine by him. At five, Harry is certain that wherever in this world he’s meant to be, the Dursleys’ house is distinctly not it.
They’ve sent him to Mrs. Figg’s house, which is boring, and smells a little odd, but is warmer than his aunt and uncles’. She’s got about a hundred cats, though Harry hasn’t counted them himself. Dudley says she’s got a million, but Harry already knows he’s going to be better than Dudley at maths.
Mrs. Figg’s hundred cats seem to like him well enough. He has his doubts about them being real cats in the first place, because they look more like small lions than anything. He’d like it if they were lions. He imagines that they’re his friends, and that Mrs. Figg’s house is a grassy plain where he and the lions live together.
What the little lions do not like, however, is the little bird that is hanging in a cage in Mrs. Figg’s sitting room. The cage is out of their reach, but they still eye it the way that Dudley eyes Harry when he’s about to chase him across the playground.
The bird is gold, shaped like a golf-ball, and flaps around the inside of its cage faster than Harry’s ever seen. Mrs. Figg calls it “Snitch,” which is a weird name for a bird, but Mrs. Figg is a weird old lady.
Harry feels bad for it, because it’s small. It’s hard being small. Harry is the smallest one in his class, so he knows. It has to be even more difficult being one little bird in a house full of lions.
So when one of the little lions finally manages to leap off of Mrs. Figg’s sofa and unlock the latch on the cage, Harry decides he’s firmly on the bird’s side.
“Get away,” he shoos Mr. Tibbles, who has opened his mouth wide enough to fit precisely one round bird.
While Harry’s trying to usher Mr. Tibbles away from the cage, Tufty leaps at Snitch and manages to catch one of his wings. This is enough to set the bird flying off, through the open cage door and right out of the window of Mrs. Figg’s sitting room.
Harry thinks for a moment that Snitch is better off flying away, where the lions can’t catch him, but the bird leans to one side as he flies, and stays low to the ground. Harry frowns, and climbs right out of the window after him.
“You won’t get very far without a little help,” Harry tells Snitch gently, when he’s safe in his arms.
Mrs. Figg looks terribly startled when she returns to find Harry climbing back through her window, but when he shows her what he has in his hands, he thinks she cracks a smile.
Here is my frogtastic disaster gift (rated G; gen) to @keepyourpantsongohan for the Frogpocalypse 30-Minute-to-Gift exchange in @sloaners server!
Theme: FROG
2 Fandoms: Naruto, Fairy Tail
Keyword: Sunshine
Inspo images:
That From Which True Strength Springs
The boisterous Fairy Tail hall was usually a source of great happiness for Makarov, however, so much mirth was too distracting when he had heavy thinking to do, so he slipped out to walk the streets of Magnolia.
In recent years, his wizarding guild took in orphaned youths left to wander the world without guidance. He duly reported each tragic event in those children’s lives to the Magic Council, and the growing number of reports he issued hinted at the coming of a much larger threat in the near future.
Could we be the only ones brought to this world? (Chapter 683). | Discord 30 Minute Gift Exchange for @sloaners. | Prompt: Commemorative plate.
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“I don’t understand how there are other people here,” Kakashi says under his breath, glancing surreptitiously at the other patrons.
“I don’t understand how Obito managed to open a portal inside the god tree.” Tenzō says, still looking at Obito as if he might regrow his horns and scales at any moment.
“It wasn’t really on purpose,” Obito says, shrugging. The motion pulls at the tattered flak vest, borrowed from Kakashi, so its zipper is even more precariously attached. “I don’t know how you managed to get through. We can keep asking questions all day. It won’t help us find the enemy.”
Their server chooses this moment to return to the counter with their order, which turns out to be a perplexing mix of oranges, squid, salted liquorice and raw peaberries, packed in a spiky, transparent to-go orb. “You fellas discussing the economy?” she asks. “It has been tough since the Princess took off.”
“The Princess?” Kakashi repeats, exchanging an uneasy glance with his companions. “What happened to her?”
