"Welcome to Hogwarts, Mr. Spoon!" Dumbledore or whoever smiled at Bill Spoon as he stepped off Train 13 or whatever the crap it is. "I'm very pleased to have such a distinguished guest as you."

"And I'm pleased to be here, Professor Fuckface. However, it is imperative that we lay down a few ground rules," he said, picking a piece of lint from the cuff of his otherwise immaculate pinstripe suit. "First of all, your name is now Professor Fuckface."

"Quite right, good chap, quite right. Already I've been put in my place!"

"Nonsense!" Bill Spoon, that incorrigible rogue, said. He grabbed Fuckface by his long white beard and shoved him off the platform just as the No. 8 rolled into the station. The heavy iron wheels rolled over Fuckface's head, crushing his skull instantly. There was a muffled pop and Fuckface's eyeballs shot forth from his shattered cranium, propelled on a jet of high-pressure jellied brains and turgid cranial fluid. They rattled like billiard balls down the hall. Spoon carefully wiped a bit of Fuckface from his glasses with a monogrammed handkerchief and sighed, "I do hope that doesn't hurt my grade."

CHAPTER II

Bill Spoon, schedule in hand, wand in the other, knocked on the door to his first class. Orgy 101! He'd heard a lot about this class – it makes or breaks new students, they said. He could only hope that Professor Snape would be lenient. Though, secretly, he really wanted a hard professor, one who would not be afraid to ride him hard, penetrate his insecurities, and thrust, thrust him to greatness! Yes, perhaps he would find that in Snape. Perhaps he would find much more.

The door opened, and Snape stood there, a totem of sophistication and sexual perfection. Smoking robe – open at the chest, luxuriant body hair rolling out like waves on a summer beach. Cheroot dangling jauntily from thin lips. He sized Spoon up. "Yesssssssss?"

"Uh, Professor Snape, sir, I'm here for the orgies."

"Oh. Welcome, then. I'm sure you'll find it all to your… satisfaction."
"I hope so, sir! I just know that whatever holes I might have… in my education… Hogwarts will fill them, and fill them again, and again."

"Indeed. I'd call your classmates – Hermione, Harry, and Ron – to meet you, but they're, um, indisposed right now."

"Oh! I hope they're not too busy. I'd so like to meet them."

"Oh, no," Snape said. "They're just, ah, enjoying a sandwich, if you know what I mean."

"I don't think I do, sir," Spoon said, blinking. "Unless you mean that they're participating in the coital act together, all three at once, Hermione in the middle, quivering in the ecstasy of four hands on her skin –"

"Ye gods, no, man!" Snape said. "That's disgusting! No, I meant that in a fit of madness, I used a special spell – well, really just a chainsaw – to take horizontal cross sections of each of them, jagged little slices of meat, innards, and splintered bone – and, with a slice of Ron and a slice of Harry serving as my 'bread', put a slice of Hermione in the middle, and began to dine. You don't know cooking until you've tried this! Mm! I say, chap, care for a bite?"

"Why, yes," Spoon said. "That sounds delightful."

"It's my pleasure to offer it," Snape said. "Come on in, won't you?" He stepped aside to allow Spoon entry. Within lay a charnel nightmare – the chainsaw, its teeth dulled from repeated grinding against the surprisingly ropy spinal cord, splattered with viscera, smelling of burnt flesh and oil – the discarded clown suit Snape had worn to keep his smoking jacket clean – and three torsos, entrails hanging like party streamers, little gouts of thin blood or some black substance pumping forth every few seconds with the persistent beating of errant hearts. Spoon recognized the famous Harry Potter.

"I've seen your movies, sir! It's a great pleasure to meet you!" he said, taking Harry's cold hand and shaking it vigorously. The blue-grey lips moved drily. Spoon leaned closer.

"K- kiillll me…" Harry seemed to be saying. Spoon frowned.

"He seems to wish that you'd finish your monstrous deed, Professor Snape," Spoon said, still holding Harry's hand.

"Oh, poppycock, my good chum! Say, you seem to be enjoying that hand. Why don't you keep it?
Spoon was overwhelmed. "Why! Sir! Thank you, oh, thank you!" Snape smiled and handed him the chainsaw.

I'm still new here, Spoon thought as the teeth bit into Harry's necrotic flesh, spraying congealed blood everywhere, and already everyone is being so nice to me.