Title: The Zambini Pet Shope of HogwartsÕ Halls
Rating: IÕm going with Mildly Amusing Salsa (bit of a pre-slasher warning, but I swear itÕs in the script I got!)
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Monty Python. I really donÕt care if you steal this or not. Just have fun and donÕt get too mad at me.
Summery: The third in the Potter-Python mix. Blaise runs a sort of pet shop between classes in Hogwarts, but one of his customers has a complaint about a parrot. And you thought the Lumberjack song was odd.
AuthorÕs Note: Eh, this was the only way I could see the parrot skit ever happening in Hogwarts without it being too random. I was going off of my ÔFinal Rip OffÕ CD, but switched to a script from online after I realized I really couldnÕt understand the slightly hysterical Cleise. Any discrepancies come from that and the modifications I needed to make to have this fit the HP-world. No, I wonÕt name the Hufflepuff boy.
It really did seem like a typical Hogwarts day lunch. The Ravenclaws were lost in the world of pre-class cramming for imaginary tests that the Slytherins and the Weasley Twins told them were coming up. The Hufflepuffs were being Hufflepuffs, which meant no one but the Hufflepuffs had a clue what their usual attributes were. The Slytherins were torn between happily doing random character bashing of people that they had never met and bad Griffindor jokes and casual disdain for all who were not at least two social classes above them, which didnÕt exist. A few were holding down Draco Malfoy to prevent points being lost because of the murder of Harry Potter who was just listening to tired old Snape and Malfoy jokes from Ron and HermioneÕs usual rants on the rights of House Elves. She congratulated Harry on joining her in her hunger strike part two, even if he wasnÕt eating because he had magical creatures next and they were studying some animal that had to have live food. Yep, a typical lunch.
ÒI wish to register a complaint!Ó yelled a rather irate looking second Hufflepuff year who burst in with a bird cage with a very still parrot. He stormed up to Blaise Zambini, ÒHalo, Miss!Ó
Blaise turned around and frowned, ÒWhat do you mean ÔMissÕ?Ó The smaller boy looked a bit embarrassed.
ÒIÕm sorry I have a cold.Ó The kid shook the cage and said, ÒI wish to register a complaint.Ó
ÒAh, IÕm sorry but weÕre closed for lunch.Ó said Blaise hastily and he tried to turn back to his Ônot quite good enough, but I donÕt want to starveÕ meal.
ÒNever mind that now, miÕlad. I wish to complain about this parrot which I purchased not an half an hour ago from your very person.Ó Blaise looked at the cage an inside on the bottom was a very still parrot.
ÒAh, yes. The Norwegian Blue.Ó Blaise looked at the boy and smiled, ÒWhatÕs wrong with it?Ó
The boy raised an eyebrow, shook his head and sighed, ÒIÕll tell you whatÕs wrong with it miÕlove, itÕs dead. ThatÕs whatÕs wrong with it.Ó
ÒNo, no. HeÕs resting.Ó said Blaise with a smile and the boy scowled.
ÒListen I know a dead parrot when I see one and IÕm looking at one right now.Ó he insisted.
ÒNo, no. He is resting. Remarkable bird, the Norwegian Blue, beautiful plumage.Ó Blaise said and tried to turn back to his lunch again.
ÒThe plumage donÕt enter into it. HeÕs stone dead.Ó said the boy with an incredulous look at Blaise.
ÒNo, no. HeÕs resting.Ó repeated Blaise with tenacity that the Hufflepuff would have admired if he wasnÕt so annoying.
ÒAll right then, if heÕs resting IÕll wake him up.Ó he said calmly, ÒHalo, Mr. Polly-Parrot. IÕve got a nice banana for you.Ó The cage shook, causing the parrot to bump about a bit. But the boy saw that it was BlaiseÕs elbow that was the catalyst.
ÒThere, see. He moved.Ó said Blaise with a satisfied smirk. The boyÕs face started to flush.
ÒNo it didnÕt. I saw you hit the cage!Ó he accused with his voice starting to escalate in volume.
ÒNo, I didnÕt.Ó
ÒYes you did.Ó the Hufflepuff turned to the cage again, Ò'ELLO POLLY! Testing! Testing! Testing! Testing! This is your nine o'clock alarm call!Ó He took the parrot out of the cage and gave it several whacks on the table, rattling the silverware then letting it fall to the floor. The hall was relatively silent waiting for the next one to speak. ÒNow thatÕs what I call a dead parrot.Ó said the boy with a smirk and a self-satisfied gleam to his eyes.
ÒNo, no.Ó Blaise said irritatedly, ÒNo, he's stunned!Ó
ÒSTUNNED!Ó cried the boy exasperated with the elder student.
ÒYeah! You stunned him, just as he was waking up! Norwegian Blues stun easily.Ó said Blaise as if everyone should know that.
ÒUm...now look...Ó The boy was getting flustered and very very angry with Blaise, ÒNow look, mate, I've definitely had enough of this. That parrot is definitely deceased, and when I purchased it not half an hour ago, you assured me that its total lack of movement was due to it being' tired and shagged out following a prolonged squawk.Ó
ÒWell, he's...he's, ah...probably pining for the fjords.Ó said Blaise trying not to loose his cool. After all, he already had those sickles spent. The boy how ever was now very angry and yelling.
ÒPINING for the FJORDS! What kind of talk is that? Look, why did he fall flat on his back the moment I got him to the dorm?Ó asked the boy after his initial blow up.
ÒThe Norwegian Blue prefers keeping on it's back! Remarkable bird, isnÕt it? Lovely plumage!Ó Blaise said unpeturbed at the increasing rage in the boyÕs countenance.
ÒLook, I took the liberty of examining that parrot when I got it home, and I discovered the only reason that it had been sitting on its perch in the first place was that it had been NAILED there.Ó said the boy with unsurpassed fury.
Blaise used the pause to snag a bite of a chip with catsup. After he swallowed he said, ÒWell, of course it was nailed there! If I hadn't nailed that bird down, it would have nuzzled up to those bars, bent 'em apart with its beak, and VOOM!Ó The boy closed his eyes and muttered a tiny prayer for patience, forgetting that one should never pray for patience unless one really wants a rough day.
ÒÕVOOMÕ! Mate, this bird wouldn't ÔvoomÕ if you put four million volts through it! He's bleedin' demised!Ó exclaimed the Hufflepuff. Blaise shook his head and sighed as if the boy was just too thick to understand.
ÒNo, no. HeÕs pining.Ó
ÒHe's not pinin'! He's passed on! This parrot is no more! He has ceased to be! He's expired and gone to meet his maker! He's a stiff! Bereft of life, he rests in peace! If you hadn't nailed him to the perch he'd be pushing up the daisies! His metabolic processes are now history! He's off the twig! He's kicked the bucket, he's shuffled off his mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleedin' choir invisible! THIS IS AN EX-PARROT!Ó ranted the boy, flushed and looking quite crazed. Blaise shrugged and picked up the parrot and placed it back in the cage.
ÒWell, I'd better replace it, then.Ó he took out a scroll and looked it over, then looked back to the seething boy, ÒSorry, I've had a look 'round the innovatory of the shop, and we're right out of parrots.Ó
ÒI see, I see, I get the picture.Ó
ÒIÕve got a slug.Ó offered Blaise.
ÒDoes it talk?Ó asked the boy resigning himself to the idea that he wasnÕt going to teach a parrot to sing rude songs. But a talking slug might be cool.
ÒNot really. You could charm it that way, but those charms are Dark magic.Ó
ÒWELL IT'S HARDLY A BLOODY REPLACEMENT, IS IT?!Ó shouted the boy. Blaise sighed and closed his eyes.
ÒI guess not.Ó Blaise looked the boy over and smirked, ÒYou want to go to my dorm?Ó he asked suggestively. The boy flushed and gave him a shy smile.
ÒUh, okay. Sure.Ó