A/N: This story was originally written for the SIYE Canon Challenge. The challenge was to write a short story containing between ten and twenty canon errors. These mistakes had to be hidden well enough that readers wouldn't find them. Unfortunately, real life got involved, and I wasn't able to submit this story on time. However, I'd like someone to read it, and you're going to be it. See how many you can find, and tell me how many you caught.

Disclaimer: All characters, places, and things mentioned below are on loan only. I am making no profit. This is just an easy way to keep my imagination and my fingers in shape.

Fromage?

Poppy Pomfrey had been the Hogwarts matron for over thirty years. In that time, she'd treated everything from acne, to petrification, from transfiguration gone wrong, to teeth the size of her forearm. In all her years she'd treated every magical ailment imaginable, but nothing, absolutely nothing had prepared her for this.

Rose Zeller and her friend Orla Quirke had come running into her office that morning, just before dinner. The girls were panting and out of breath when they arrived, no doubt from having just run up all four flights of stairs to reach the Hospital wing.

After a minute, Miss Zeller had managed to gasp out that there had been an accident in the N.E.W.T. level Potions class, and that it was an emergency. When that was all she could get out of the two tired second-years, she motioned for the girls to lead the way downstairs.

Walking briskly after the two Ravenclaws, Madam Pomfrey had noted how cold is was in the dungeons. Definitely not healthy. She could almost see her breath. Deciding to ask Severus about it later, she followed the girls through a small crowd of children gathered around the door of Professor Snape's classroom. The class, apparently come for their lesson, were obviously surprised by whatever was inside the room. Backing away when they saw her, the students watched the Matron stopped in the doorway, rubbed her eyes vigorously, and looked again.

And this was how, Poppy Pomfrey came to be standing in the doorway of her colleagues classroom, with a large black monster writhing on the floor in front of her, and making horrible loud screeching noises. Looking more closely, she could see that it had quite a few arms and more than enough heads. The odd thing was, that the heads, if that's what they were, appeared almost human. Looking closer, Poppy noticed that some of them seemed rather familiar. In fact, the head sticking out the side had black messy hair, glasses, and very green eyes. She knew that head. That head had spent enough time in the Hospital Wing that it would impossible for her not to know it. The head looked right at her.

'Oh! Hello Madam Pomfrey.' Harry Potter yelled over the noise. He grinned.

The writhing mass all at once stopped screaming, and lay very still. No one said anything. A very muffled voice broke the silence.

'Granger,' came the unmistakable drawl, 'Your hair has found it's delightful way into my mouth, and I would appreciate it of you could rectify the situation. Now.'

'You know I would Malfoy, but in case it had escaped you notice that isn't really an option right now.'

The shouts and shrieks started once again, and this time Poppy could discern distinct phrases as she looked around the room for the Potions Professor.

'Ow! That's my stomach!'

'Get your filthy hands off me!'

'Your elbow is in my back.'

'Ew! That was wet!'

'Furnuculus!'

'Who was that?!'

'Zabini!'

'I can't breath!'

'Don't touch me there!

'I think I'm going to be sick!'

'FIFTY POINTS FROM SLYTHERIN!'

Pulling out her wand, Poppy pointed it at the group of entagled potion-makers.

'Silencio.'

All the heads that were able, turned to look at her.

'There now,' she said, 'Where is Miss Granger?'

As one, the heads turned to look at a single leg protruding from the dark mass. It wore a black shoe buckled onto a white stockinged foot. The foot wiggled.

Incredulously, Poppy pointed clearly at the foot, and said, 'Finite Incantatum!'

'That's a little better.' Came a muffled voice from under the pile of limbs.

'Miss Granger?'

'Yes?' Came the voice.

'Would you calmly explain to me what is going on here?'

'Certainly, Professor. We're stuck.'

'You're saying that you can't move?' Poppy tried to think about what could possibly make such a large group of people incapable of moving.

'No, to each other. We're stuck together.'

Here, Poppy was stumped. She'd never heard of, never mind treated a patient who was stuck to another person. How would you get stuck to them in the first place. She voiced her opinion.

'How did you become attached in the first place?'

The voice answered. 'I'm not exactly sure how. My theory is that the fumes coming off Goyle's cauldron were electrically charged, and since a charge is attracted to a neutral, the vapor clung to our bodies. Although that doesn't explain why we are stuck to each other, so I think it may be possible that The positive charges attached themselves to the boys, whereas the negative became attached to the girls, and that is why we were attracted to each other. Either that, or he added too many jumping toadstools.'

Poppy raised her eyebrows. 'And on what, Miss Granger, do you base this hypothesis?'

'The potion we were brewing is called 'The Draught of Energy', and it's used for preserving old or torn parchment, as well as curing tiredness. Adelbert Waffling mentions in Magical Theory that 'The Draught of Power' is so close to 'The Draught of Energy', that for many hundreds of years, there was no difference between them, and Bathilda Bagshott writes in A History of Magic, that the difference was only discovered when Muggles began using electricity. This is because the vapor from 'The Draught of Power' produced a perfect example of the attraction of negative and positive charges. So basically we're all just a bunch of magnets.'

The matron blinked.

'Hypothetically.' She finished.

Poppy felt that for once, she was completely and utterly out of her depth. Judging from the glazed looks that had slid over the visible students' faces, they were just as lost as she was.

'Stay here,' she addressed the black lump.

As she turned and walked out the door, she vaguely heard a voice yell, 'Take your time, we're not leaving.'

Once in the corridor, she was surprised that a good number of the second-years were still waiting outside the door. Some looked bored, and some looked anxious. Most, however, were the former. Amazed that they were still there, Poppy gave them a faint smile and said, 'Class dismissed.'

Within seconds, the hallway was empty.

-oo-

Standing in front of the stone gargoyle, Poppy tried to remember the password. Droobles? No. Acid pops? No again. What was it? Ah yes!

'Fizzing Whizbees!'

The gargoyle stepped aside, and Poppy began climbing the marble stairs.

Reaching the top she knocked on the door to Dumbledore's office.

'Come in.'

The door swung open to reveal Albus Dumbledore standing beside a silver perch, looking lovingly at a small pile of ashes occupying it. A small wrinkly head poked it's way out of the pile, and shook itself to dislodge the ashes from its new wings. The wizard smiled and gently stroked the phoenix's sparse plumage. He looked up.

'So what can I help you with Poppy. Have a seat. Lemon drop?'

'Um, no thank-you Albus. Do you happen to have any idea what is going on in the potions classroom right now?'

Dumbledore looked around the room, efficiently avoiding her gaze and said innocently, 'Second-year Potions?'

'Right.' said Poppy sarcastically, 'So I doubt you would be surprised to learn that there in a very sticky lump of students-and-Potions Professor-au-fromage rolling on the floor of the dungeons?'

'Is there really?' Albus looked delighted, picked up a lemon drop, and popped it in his mouth where he sat sucking on it pensively.

'Yes. There is.' And Poppy spent the next ten minutes revealing the finer points of what had transpired several floors below.

'So you're saying that Miss Granger came up with this theory while being upside-down and stuck to Mr Malfoy? She's such a gifted young lady.'

Poppy raised her eyebrows. 'You don't seem worried about this.'

'Of course not. In fact, I think it might be good for them. Merlin knows that that particular class has never been on the best of terms.'

'You know,' Poppy admitted, 'I hadn't thought of it that way.' She paused as if she were thinking it over, 'Maybe it would be acceptable to leave them there a little bit longer.' And with that, she graciously took a candy, and settled herself more comfortably in her chair.

-oo-

Down in the dungeons, a group of sixth years lay on the floor, becoming more and more uncomfortable as time wore on.

'I don't think she's coming back,' Hermione Granger said to her silent classmates. 'No, in fact I'm sure of it.'

All she received for her musings was a sharp poke in the ribs from behind.

'Well it's not as if I asked her to silence you. In case you've once again forgotten, I am upside down and unable to move. Thus meaning that no, I cannot un-silence you, because I can't reach my wand.'

There was a rustle of robes and another poke.

'Oh, honestly. If you're so impatient, you could reach it yourself. It's in my left pocket.'

She felt a hand tentatively reach into her robes.

'Watch your fingers Malfoy! No. That's the wrong pocket. Yes, can you get it? Good, now set it between my fingers. Is it pointing at someone? Stop poking me. Finite Incantatum. .... Did I get anybody? One more try then. Finite Incantatum.'

'Well Granger, I don't believe it. It worked. Congratulations.'

'Thank-you.'

'Your welcome.'

Silence.

'So, uh, who's next?'

'Snape?'

'Can we reach him?'

'I think so.'

'What are you doing?! No, I'm going to drop—'

There was a clatter of wood on the floor on the floor.

'Ah, bugger.'

-oo-

The End

-OO-

A/N: Have fun!