Blackadder Meets HP6: Goodbyee
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DISCLAIMER: Based on the HP books by J.K. Rowling and the 'Goodbyee' episode from Blackadder Goes Forth. No money is being made and no copyrights are being infringed.
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Scene 1: In the Trench
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(It's raining. Captain Draco Malfoy, Lt. Vincent Crabbe, and Pvt. Gregory Goyle are standing around. Crabbe takes out his cigarette case and offers it to Malfoy.)
Crabbe: Care for a smoke, Sir?
Malfoy: No, thank you, I'm fine... (He lights his own cigarette.)
Crabbe: (Offering case to Goyle.) Private?
Goyle: (Taking cigarette from Crabbe.) Oh, thank you, Sir. (Begins to eat the cigarette.)
Crabbe: Oh, dash and blast all this hanging about, Sir! I'm as bored as a pacifist pistol! When are we going to see some action?
Malfoy: Well, Crabbe, I strongly suspect that your long wait for certain death is nearly at an end. Surely you must have noticed something in the air...
Crabbe: Well, yes, of course, but I thought that was Private Goyle.
Malfoy: Unless I'm very much mistaken, soon we will at last be making the final Big Push - the one we've been so looking forward to all these years.
Crabbe: Well, hurrah with highly polished brass knobs on! About time!
(Malfoy sighs and walks into the dugout. Crabbe and Goyle follow.)
Scene 2: Draco Malfoy's Dugout
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(Captain Percy Weasley's head appears in the fireplace, Malfoy bends down to answer.)
Malfoy: Hello; the Hogwart's Prefect Bath - no running, shouting, or piddling in the shallow end.
Weasley: The big push is tomorrow Malfoy. Have your men ready at dawn. (Weasley's head disappears.)
Malfoy: Oh, excellent. (Turns to Crabbe and Goyle.) Gentlemen, our long wait is nearly at an end. Tomorrow morning, General Insanity Fudge invites you to a mass slaughter. We're going over the top.
Crabbe: Well, huzzah and hurrah! Merlin Save the Minister, Rule Britannia, and Boo Sucks Voldie!
Malfoy: Or, to put it more precisely: you're going over the top; I'm getting out of here.
Crabbe: Oh, now, come on, Cap! It may be a bit risky (Tries to speak in a rousing Cockney dialect, but fails miserably), but it sure is bloomin'ell worth it, gov'nor!
Malfoy: How could it possibly be worth it? We've been sitting here since Christmas 1998, during which hundreds of men and women have died, and we've advanced no further than an asthmatic ant with some heavy shopping.
Crabbe: Well, but this time I'm absolutely pos we'll break through! It's ice cream in Voldie's camp in 15 days.
Malfoy: Or ice cold in No Man's Land in 15 seconds. No, the time has come to get out of this madness once and for all.
Crabbe: What madness is that?
Malfoy: For Merlin's sake, Crabbe, how long have you been in the army?
Crabbe: Oh me? I joined up just after you, Sir. August the 4th, 1998. Gah, what a day that was: myself and the rest of the fellows whose parents had just been captured as Death Eaters. We were told we could join the Ministry, or our parents in Azkaban…Crashingly superb bunch of blokes. Fine, clean-limbed - even their acne had a strange nobility about it.
Malfoy: Yes, my experience was rather similar… and how are all the boys now?
Crabbe: Well, er, Zabini and Nott bought it at the first Hogsmeade front, unfortunately - quite a shock, that… Bad losses on the other side too, of course, I remember Flint wrote and told me that Parkinson had been out for a duck, and Smith had snitched a parcel blighty-end and gone goose-over-stump frogside.
Malfoy: Meaning...?
Crabbe: I don't know, Sir, but I read in the Prophet that they'd both been killed.
Malfoy: And Flint himself...?
Crabbe: Copped a packet at the Battle of Potter's Hollow.
Malfoy: Which leaves...?
Crabbe: Gosh, yes, I, I suppose we're some of the few still alive. Lummy, there's a thought - and not a jolly one.
Malfoy: My point exactly, Crabbe.
Crabbe: (Sadly.) A chap might get a bit miffed – (Mood suddenly brightens.) if it wasn't the thought of going over the top tomorrow! Right, Sir: Permission to get weaving…
Malfoy: Permission granted.
Crabbe: Thank you, sir. (Leaves.)
Malfoy: Goyle!
Goyle: Captain M!
Malfoy: This is a crisis. A large crisis. In fact, if you've got a moment, it's a twelve-storey crisis with a magnificent entrance hall, carpeting throughout, 24-hour portage, and an enormous sign on the roof, saying This Is a Large Crisis'. A large crisis requires a large plan. Get me two quills and a pair of underpants.
Scene 3: Draco Malfoy's Dugout
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(Later, Malfoy is wearing underpants on his head with two quills up his nose.)
Malfoy: Right, Goyle, this is an old trick I picked up from my father. We tell HQ that I've gone insane, and I'll be invalided back to St. Mungo's before you can say "Wooble" - a poor gormless idiot.
Goyle: But I'm a poor gormless idiot, Sir, and I've never been invalided back to St. Mungo's.
Malfoy: Yes, Goyle, but you've never said "Wooble." Now, ask me some simple questions.
Goyle: Right. What is your name?
Malfoy: Wooble...
Goyle: What is two plus two?
Malfoy: Oh, wooble wooble.
Goyle: Where do you live?
Malfoy: Wiltshire.
Goyle: Eh?
Malfoy: A small village on Mars, just outside the capital city, Wooble.
Crabbe: (Enters.) All the men present and correct, Sir. Ready for the off, eh?
Malfoy: I'm afraid not, Lieutenant; I'm just off to Hartleypool to buy some exploding trousers.
Crabbe: Come again, Sir - have you gone barking mad?
Malfoy: Yes, Crabbe, I have. Cluck, cluck, gibber, gibber, my old man's a mushroom, et cetera. Go send a runner to tell General Fudge that your captain has gone insane and must return to England at once.
Crabbe: But, Sir, how utterly ghastly for you! I mean, well, you'll miss the whole rest of the war!
Malfoy: Yes, very bad luck. Beep!
Crabbe: Right.
Malfoy: Beep!
Crabbe: Goyle, I'll be back as soon as I can.
Malfoy: Pah-pah!
Crabbe: Whatever you do, don't excite him. (Leaves.)
Malfoy: (Removes the quills, looks at Goyle.) Fat chance! Now, all we have to do is wait. Goyle, fix us some coffee, will you? And try to make it taste slightly less like mud this time.
Goyle: Not easy, I'm afraid, Captain.
Malfoy: Why is that?
Goyle: 'Cause it is mud. We ran out of coffee thirteen months ago.
Malfoy: So every time I've drunk your coffee since, I have in fact been drinking hot mud...
Goyle: With sugar.
Malfoy: Which of course makes all the difference.
Goyle: Well, it would do if we had any sugar, but, unfortunately, we ran out New Year's Eve 1999, since when I've been using sugar substitute.
Malfoy: Which is...?
Goyle: Dandruff.
Malfoy: Brilliant.
Goyle: Still, I could add some milk this time -- well, saliva...
Malfoy: No, no, thank you, Goyle. Call me Mr. Picky, but I think I'll cancel the coffee.
Goyle: That's probably 'cause you're mad, Sir!
Malfoy: Well, quite!
Crabbe: (Re-enters; Malfoy quickly replaces the quills.) Well, it didn't go down well at all, I'm afraid, Sir. Captain Weasley said they'd be along directly, but, well, you'd better be damn doolally.
Malfoy: Don't worry, Crabbe; I am. (Makes weird noises while moving his right arm strangely.) When they get here, I'll show them what totally and utterly bonkeroonie' means. Fwaf! Until then, we've got bugger-all to do except sit and wait.
Crabbe: Well, I don't know, Sir -- we could, er, we could have a jolly game of charades!
Goyle: Ooh, yes!
Crabbe: And a sing-along of musical hits like, "Birmingham Bertie" and "Whoops, Mrs. Miggins, You're Sitting on My Artichokes."
Malfoy: Yes, I think bugger-all might rather be more fun.
Scene 4: Draco Malfoy's Dugout
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(Later, the three are sitting around doing bugger-all.)
Goyle: Permission to ask a question, Sir...
Malfoy: Permission granted, Goyle, as long as isn't the one about where babies come from.
Goyle: No, the thing is: The way I see it, these days there's a war on, right? And, ages ago, there wasn't a war on, right? So, there must have been a moment when there not being a war on went away, right? And there being a war on came along. So, what I want to know is: How did we get from the one case of affairs to the other case of affairs?
Malfoy: Do you mean "How did the war start?"
Goyle: Yeah.
Crabbe: The war started because of the vile Voldemort and his villainous empire-building!
Malfoy: Crabbe, the Wizarding World at present covers well over half of the globe, while Voldemort's camp consists of a few small plots of land in Northern Scotland. I hardly think that we can be entirely absolved of blame on the imperialistic front.
Crabbe: Oh, no, Sir, absolutely not. (Aside, to Goyle.) Mad as a broom!
Goyle: I heard that it started when that bloke called Cedric Diggory ate a cadaver 'cause he was hungry.
Malfoy: I think you mean it started when Cedric Diggory was killed with the Avada Kedavra.
Goyle: Nah, there was definitely a cadaver involved, Sir.
Malfoy: Well, yes. But the real reason for the whole thing was that it was too much effort for Voldemort not to start a war.
Crabbe: By Gum, this is interesting; I always loved history -- The Battle of Hastings, Henry VIII and his six knives, all that.
Malfoy: You see, Goyle, Voldemort is an extremely pathetic man with an insecurity complex the size of the Atlantic Ocean. He had a miserable childhood and wants someone to blame, in this case Muggles. He then came up with the idiotic plan to kill all Muggles and Mudbloods which was, of course, protested by anyone with half a brain cell…
Goyle: My dad was a supporter...
Malfoy: I rest my case.
Weasley: (From outside.) 'Tention!
Crabbe: (He and Goyle stand.) Right, they're here. Erm, Goyle, you keep him warm; I'll go prepare the ground. (Leaves.)
Scene 5: In the Trench
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(Crabbe salutes Fudge and Weasley.)
Crabbe: Sir.
Fudge: Crabbe! How's the patient?
Crabbe: Well, it's touch and go, I'm afraid, Sir. I really can't vouch for his behavior. He's gone mad, you see -- stir-frying crazy.
Fudge: I see. Is he genuinely mad?
Crabbe: Oh, yes, Sir.
Fudge: ...or has he simply put his underpants on his head and stuffed a couple of quills up his nose? That's what they all used to do in the old days. I remember I once had to kill a whole platoon for trying that. Well, let's have a look at him. (Goes in, followed by the others.)
Scene 6: Draco Malfoy's Dugout
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Weasley: 'Tention!!!
Malfoy: (Stands while talking to Goyle.) ...and the other thing they used to do in the old days was to get dressed up like this and pretend to be mad. But don't let me catch you trying that one, Goyle, or I'll have you killed, all right? Dismissed. (Turns to Fudge, removes the quills.) Oh, hello, Sir -- didn't hear you come in.
Fudge: Well now, Malfoy, they tell me you've gone mad.
Malfoy: No, Sir (Removes the underpants.), no -- must be a breakdown of communication. Someone obviously heard I was mad with excitement, waiting for the off.
Fudge: There you are, you see, Weasley? I told you there'd be a perfectly rational explanation. Right, Crabbe, have your chaps fall in.
Crabbe: Very good, Sir. (Salutes, leaves.)
Weasley: Well, it's rather odd, Sir. The message was very clear: "Captain Malfoy gone totally tonto. Bring straightjacket for immediate return to St. Mungo's." (Holds up straightjacket.)
Fudge: Don't be ridiculous, Weasley. The Hero of Mboto Gorge, mad? Well, you've only got to look at him to see he's as sane as I am! Baaahhh! (Leaves.)
Weasley: Would that the Mboto Gorge where we massacred the peace-loving pygmies of the Upper Volta and stole all their fruit?
Malfoy: No -- a totally different Mboto Gorge.
Weasley: Oh.
Malfoy: Cup of coffee, Weasley?
Weasley: Oh, thank you.
Malfoy: Goyle, do the honors.
Goyle: (Goes to the little kitchen in the back of the dugout.) Sir. (To Weasley.) Sugar, Sir?
Weasley: Three lumps.
Malfoy: Think you can manage three lumps, Goyle?
Goyle: I'll rummage around; see what I can find, Sir.
Weasley: Make it a milky one.
Goyle: Coming up, Sir.
Scene 7: In the Trench
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(While Fudge and Crabbe speak, Goyle can be heard hawking up a great deal of milk'.)
Fudge: Well, Crabbe, you must have been delighted to hear the news of the Big Push.
Crabbe: Absolutely, Sir -- our chance to show the Death Eater's that it takes more than a pointy hat and bad breath to defeat the armies of the Ministry!
Fudge: That's the spirit!
Scene 8: Draco Malfoy's Dugout
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(Goyle spits, then returns with the mug.)
Goyle: Here you are, Sir.
Weasley: (Looks in the mug.) Ah, cappuccino! Have you got any of that brown stuff you sprinkle on the top?
Goyle: Well, I'm sure I could m—
Malfoy: No, no!
Weasley: (As Fudge and Crabbe return.) 'Tention!
Fudge: Well, fine body of men you've got out there, Malfoy.
Malfoy: Yes, Sir -- shortly to become fine bodies of men.
Fudge: Nonsense -- you'll pull through. (Laughs) I remember when the Harpies played the Cannons back in '86: they said we never could break through their Beaters, but we ducked and we bobbed and we wove and we damn well won the game, 350-180.
Malfoy: Yes, Sir, but the Cannon Beater wasn't armed with anything more than a bat and a ball.
Fudge: No -- that's a good point. Make a note, Weasley...
Weasley: Sir.
Fudge: "Recommendation for the Harpies: Bigger bats for Beaters – maybe maces." Bright idea, Malfoy. (Speaks to Goyle.) Now then, soldier, are you looking forward to giving those Beauxbatons a damn good licking?
Weasley: Er, no, Sir -- it's the Death Eaters we shall be licking, Sir.
Fudge: Don't be revolting, Weasley! I wouldn't lick a Death Eater if he was glazed in honey!
Weasley: Sorry.
Fudge: (Back to Goyle.) Now then, soldier; do you love your country?
Goyle: Certainly do, Sir.
Fudge: And do you love your Minister?
Goyle: Certainly don't, Sir.
Fudge: And why not?
Goyle: My mother told me never to trust men with beards, Sir.
Fudge: (Laughs) Excellent wit! (Hits Goyle in the face; Goyle falls over.) Well, best of luck to you all. Sorry I can't be with you, but obviously there's no place at the front for an old general with a dicky heart and a wooden bladder. By the way, Crabbe, if you want to accompany me back to HQ and watch the results as they come in, I think I can guarantee a place in the car.
Crabbe: Oh, no, thank you, Sir -- I wouldn't miss this show for anything. I am as excited as a very excited person who's got a special reason to be excited, Sir.
Fudge: Excellent! Well, chuf chuf then. See you all on the other side for coffee and cakes.
Crabbe: Sir. (Salutes.)
(As Fudge begins to walk out, Weasley drinks and then spits out the coffee'.)
Fudge: What is the matter with you today, Weasley? I'm so sorry, Malfoy. Come on, Weasley, we're leaving. (He and Weasley leave.)
Crabbe: (To Malfoy.) Righto, Sir, I'm glad you're not barking anymore.
Malfoy: Well, thank you, Crabbe -- although quite clearly you are. You were offered a way out, and you didn't take it.
Crabbe: Absolutely not, Sir! I can't wait to get stuck into the Death Eaters!
Malfoy: You won't have time to get 'stuck into the Death Eaters'! We'll all be cut to pieces by spell fire before we can say "charge."
Crabbe: All right, so, what do we do now?
Goyle: Can I do my war poem?
Malfoy: How hurt would you be if I gave the honest answer, which is "No, I'd rather French-kiss a skunk"?
Goyle: So would I, Sir!
Malfoy: All right. Fire away, Goyle.
Goyle: "Hear the words I sing / War's a horrid thing / So I sing sing sing / ding-a-ling-a-ling."
Crabbe: (Applauding.) Oh, bravo, yes!
Malfoy: Yes. Well, it started badly, it tailed off a little in the middle, and the less said about the end, the better. But, apart from that, excellent.
Goyle: Oh, shall I do another one, then, Sir?
Malfoy: No -- we wouldn't want to exhaust you.
Goyle: No, don't worry; I could go on all night.
Malfoy: Not with a bayonet through your neck, you couldn't!
Goyle: This one is called "Spell fire."
Crabbe: Oh, spiffing! Yes, let's hear that!
Goyle: "Boom boom boom boom / Boom boom boom / BOOM BOOM, BOOM BOOM-
Malfoy: (Extremely annoyed.) "BOOM BOOM BOOM"?
Goyle: How did you guess, Sir?
Crabbe: I say, Sir! That is spooky!
Malfoy: I'm sorry; I think I've got to get out of here!!!
Goyle: Well, I have a cunning plan, Sir.
Malfoy: All right, Goyle -- for old time's sake.
Goyle: Well, you floo Field Marshal Dumbledore, Sir, and you ask him to get you out of here.
Malfoy: (Stands.) Goyle, even by your standards it's pathetic! I've only ever met Field Marshal Dumbledore once since school, it was two years ago, and, by Merlin, you've got it, you've got it! (He kisses Goyle.)
Goyle: Well, if I've got it, you've got it too, now, Sir.
Malfoy: I can't believe I've been so stupid! One fire call will do it -- one fire call and I'll be free. Let's see, it's 3:30 a.m.; I'll call about quarter to six. Excellent, excellent. Well, I'll get packing.
Crabbe: You know, I won't half miss you chaps after the war.
Goyle: Don't worry, Lieutenant; I'll come visit you.
Crabbe: Will you really? Oh bravo! Yes, jump on the old broom and come down and stay in the country, and we can relive the old times.
Malfoy: What, dig a hole in the garden, fill it with water, and get your gamekeeper to throw spells at us all day?
Crabbe: You know, that's the thing I don't really understand about you, Cap. You've been a soldier longer than us, and yet, sometimes you sound as though you bally well haven't enjoyed soldiering at all.
Malfoy: Well, you see, Crabbe, I did like it, back in training and in the early battles against random little tribes of creatures Voldemort had captured and then forced to fight us.
Crabbe: Now, come off it, Sir -- what about Mboto Gorge, for heaven's sake?
Malfoy: Yes, that was a bit of a nasty one -- ten thousand Volta warriors armed to the teeth with kiwi fruit and guava halves. After the battle, instead of taking prisoners, we simply made a huge fruit salad. No, when I joined up, I never imagined anything as awful as this war. I'd only signed up to avoid Azkaban and I was hoping to lay quiet in an office job. Then several hundred heavily armed Death Eaters hoved into view. That was a shock, I can tell you.
Goyle: (Polishing boots with a dead rat.) I thought it was going to be such fun; there was a big parade before we set off. It was great. I'll never forget it. It was the first time I ever felt really popular. Everyone was cheering, throwing flowers. Some girl even come up and kissed me.
Malfoy: Poor woman -- first casualty of the war.
Goyle: I loved the training; all we had to do was duel sacks full of straw. Even I could do that. I remember saying to my mum, "These sacks will be easy to outwit in a battle situation." And then, shortly after, we all met up, didn't we? Just before Christmas,1998.
Crabe: Yes, that's right. I'd just arrived and we had that wonderful Christmas truce. Do you remember, Sir? We could hear "Silent Night" drifting across the still, clear air of No Man's Land. And then they came, the Death Eaters, emerging out of the freezing night mist, calling to us, and we clambered up over the top and went to meet them.
Malfoy: Both sides advanced more during one Christmas piss-up than they managed in the next two-and-a-half years of war.
Goyle: Do you remember the Qudditch match?
Malfoy: Remember it? How could I forget it? I was never Seeker! I could not believe that decision!
Goyle: And since then we've been stuck here for three flipping years! We haven't moved! All my friends are dead: My pet spider, Sammy; Katie the worm; Bertie the bird -- everyone except Neville the fat hamster.
Malfoy: (Having just finished his packing; sits.) I'm afraid Neville bought it too, Goyle. I'm sorry.
Goyle: Neville, gone, Sir?
Malfoy: Actually, not quite gone -- he's in the corner, bunging up the sink.
Goyle: (Stands.) Oh no, it didn't have to happen, Sir! If it wasn't for this terrible war, Neville would still be here today, sniffling his little nose and going "Eek."
Malfoy: On the other hand, if he hadn't died, I wouldn't have been able to insert a curtain rod in his bottom and use him as a dish mop.
Goyle: Why can't we just stop, Sir? Why can't we just say, "No more killing; let's all go home"? Why would it be stupid just to pack it in, Sir, why?
Crabbe: Now, now, now, look here, you just stop that talk right now, Private. It's, it's absurd, and it wouldn't work, anyway.
Goyle: Why not, Sir?
Crabbe: Why not? Well, what do you mean? Why wouldn't it work? It--It wouldn't work, Private-- It wouldn't work because, there, well, now, you just get on with polishing those boots, all right? And let's have a little bit less of that lip! (To Malfoy.) I think I managed to crush the mutiny there, Sir. Well, to think, Sir: in just a few hours, we'll be off. Of course, not that I wouldn't miss all this, Sir. I mean, we've had some good times; we've had damnably good laughs, eh?
Malfoy: Yes -- can't think of any specific ones, myself, but...
Scene 9: General Fudge's Office
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(Weasley is asleep at the desk. Fudge comes in with a candle. He is wearing a robe and a hairnet for his moustache.)
Fudge: Weasley.
Weasley: (With a start, stands.) Sir!
Fudge: Oh, sit, sit, sit, sit... Can't sleep either, eh?
Weasley: Er, no, Sir -- thinking about the Push, Sir, hoping the Death Eaters will oversleep and still be in their pajamas when our troops turn up, Sir.
Fudge: Yes, yes. I've been thinking, too, Weasley.
Weasley: Sir?
Fudge: You know, over these last few years, I've come to think of you as a sort of son. Not a favorite son, of course -- Merlin, no! – More a sort of illegitimate backstairs sort of sprog, you know: a sort of spotty squirt that nobody really likes. But, nonetheless, still fruit of my overactive loins.
Weasley: Thank you, Sir.
Fudge: And I want to do what's best for you, Weasley, so I've given it a great deal of thought, and I want you to have this. (Picks up a piece of paper from the desk and hands it to Weasley.)
Weasley: A postal order for a case of Chocolate Frogs...
Fudge: No, sorry -- that's my godson's wedding present. (Picks up another piece of paper.) Here.
Weasley: Er, no, Sir -- this is the commission for the front line, Sir. (Holds it out, to give it back.)
Fudge: Yes. I've been awfully selfish, Weasley, keeping you back here instead of letting you join in the fun and games. This will let you get to the front line immediately!
Weasley: But, but, Sir, I, I don't want to…
Fudge: ...to leave me? Heh, I appreciate that, Weasley, but, damn it, I'll just have to enter the new camp without someone to carry my feathery hat.
Weasley: (Stands.) No, Sir, I don't want to go into battle…
Fudge: ...without me. I know. But I'm too old, Wesley. I'm just going to have to sit this one out on the sidelines with the halftime oranges and the fat, wheezy boys with a note from matron, while you young-bloods link arms and go together for the glorious final scrumdown.
Weasley: No, Sir... (Walks around the desk to Fudge.) You're, you're not listening, Sir. I'm begging you, please -- for the sake of all the times I've helped you with your dicky bows and dicky bladder --please (Falls to his knees.) don't make me--
Fudge: ...make you go through the farewell debagging ceremony in the mess. Heh! No, I've spared you that, too, you touchingly sentimental young booby! Look: no fuss, no bother -- the driver is already here.
Weasley: (Turns, still on his knees, as the door opens; a shadow of the driver is cast from the bright light in the next room; the driver salutes.) But--
Fudge: No, no -- not a word, Percy. I know what you want to say. I know. (Weasley stands slowly.) Goodbye, Percy Weasley. (Salutes.)
Weasley: (Frightened, salutes.) Goodbye, Sir.
Scene 10: Draco Malfoy's Dugout
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(Dawn.)
Goyle: (Enters.) It's stopped raining at last, Sir, begging your pardon -- looks like we might have a nice day for it.
Crabbe: Yes, it's nearly morning...
Malfoy: (Peeks outside) Merlin -- so it is. Right, time to make my call. (Goes to the fire.) Hello? Field Marshal Sir Albus Dumbledore, please. Yes, it's urgent...
(Dumbledore's face appears.)
Dumbledore: Dumbledore here.
Malfoy: Hello, Dumbledore.
Dumbledore: Who is this?
Malfoy: Captain Malfoy, Sir, erstwhile of the 1945th Ministry wands.
Dumbledore: Merlin! Malfoy!
Malfoy: Yes, Sir.
Dumbledore: I haven't seen you since...
Malfoy: '98, Sir -- Mboto Gorge.
Dumbledore: By jingo, yes. We sure gave those pygmies a good squashing.
Malfoy: We certainly did, Sir. And do you remember...?
Dumbledore: Merlin, yes. You saved my damn life that day, Malfoy. If it weren't for you, that pygmy woman with the sharpened mango could have seriously...
Malfoy: Well, exactly, Sir. And do you remember then that you said that if I was ever in real trouble and I really needed a favor that I was to call you and you'd do everything you could to help me?
Dumbledore: Yes, yes, I do, and I stick by it. You know me -- not a man to change my mind.
Malfoy: No -- we've noticed that.
Dumbledore: So what do you want? Spit it out, man.
Malfoy: Well, you see, Sir, it's the Big Push today, and I'm not all that keen to go over the top.
Dumbledore: Oh, I see. Well...
Malfoy: It was a viciously sharp slice of mango, wasn't it, Sir...
Dumbledore: Well, this is most irregular, but, erm, all right. If I do fix it for you, I never want to hear from you again, is that clear?
Malfoy: Suits me, Dumbly.
Dumbledore: Very well. Listen carefully, Malfoy; I won't repeat this. Put your underpants on your head and stick two quills up your nose. They'll think you're crazy and send you home. Right, favor returned. (Dumbledore's head disappears.)
Malfoy: (Stands.) I think the phrase rhymes with 'clucking bell'.
Goyle: Does that mean you'll going over the top, now, Sir?
(Fudge's head appears in the fire, Malfoy quickly bends down.)
Malfoy: Field Marshal?
Fudge: (Laughs.) Well, not quite, Malfoy -- at least not yet. No, I just wanted to let you know I've sent a little surprise over for you.
(Weasley enters, wearing helmet.)
Crabbe: Sir! (Salutes.)
Malfoy: (Stands up.) Captain Weasley...
Weasley: Captain Malfoy.
Malfoy: Here to join us for the last waltz?
Weasley: (Nervous.) Erm, yes -- tired of folding the general's pajamas.
Crabbe: Well, this is splendid, comradely news! Together, we'll fight for the Ministry and for country, and be done by teatime. Really, this is brave, splendid and noble! Sir?
Malfoy: Yes, Lieutenant?
Crabbe: I'm scared, Sir.
Goyle: I'm scared too, Sir.
Crabbe: I mean, we're among the last of our class. I don't want to die. I'm really not over keen on dying at all, Sir.
Malfoy: How are you feeling, Weasley?
Weasley: Erm, not all that good, Malfoy -- rather hoped I'd get through the whole show; go back to work at the Ministry; keep score for the local Qudditch team; marry Penelope... Made a note in my diary on my way here. Simply says, "Bugger."
Malfoy: Well, quite.
(A voice outside starts giving orders.)
Malfoy: Ah well, come on. Let's move.
Scene 11: In the Trench
--------------------
Malfoy: Don't forget your wand, Lieutenant.
Crabbe: Oh no, Sir -- wouldn't want to face an army without this!
(They all line up as the spell fire stops.)
Weasley: Listen! Our Aurors have stopped.
Crabbe: You don't think...?
Goyle: Maybe the war's over. Maybe it's peace!
Crabbe: Well, hurrah! The big knobs have gone round the table and yanked the iron out of the fire!
Weasley: Thank Merlin! We lived through it! The Great War: 1997-2000.
Goyle: Hip hip!
All but Malfoy: Hurray!
Malfoy: (Readying his wand.) I'm afraid not. The Aurors have stopped because we're about to attack. Not even our generals are mad enough to spell their own men. They think it's far more sporting to let the Death Eaters do it.
Crabbe: So we are, in fact, going over. This is, as they say, it.
Malfoy: I'm afraid so, unless I think of something very quickly.
Voice: Company, one pace forward!
(Everyone steps forward.)
Goyle: Ooh, there's a nasty splinter on that ladder, Sir! A bloke could hurt himself on that.
Voice: Stand ready!
(Everyone puts a foot forward.)
Goyle: I have a plan, Sir.
Malfoy: Really, Goyle? A cunning and subtle one?
Goyle: Yes, Sir.
Malfoy: As cunning as a fox who's just been appointed Professor of Cunning at Oxford University?
Goyle: Yes, Sir.
Voice: On the signal, company will advance!
Malfoy: Well, I'm afraid it'll have to wait. Whatever it was, I'm sure it was better than my plan to get out of this by pretending to be mad. I mean, who would have noticed another madman round here?
(Whistle blows.)
Malfoy: Good luck, everyone. (Blows his whistle.)
(Everyone yells as they go over the top. Spells fire before they're even off the ladders. The scene changes to slow motion, and explosions happen all around them. The smoke and flying earth begins to obscure vision as the view changes to the battlefield moments later: empty and silent with barbed wire, wands and bodies strewn across it. That view in turn changes to the same field as it is today: overgrown with grasses and flowers, peaceful, with chirping birds.)
THE END
A/N: Well, there you have it, the end of Malfoy's involvement in the Great War. I'm sorry the ending couldn't be happier but wars seldom have a happy ending. I hope you all enjoyed my reformatting of the Blackadder episodes. I hope all the Blackadder fans enjoyed it and that it influenced others to check out the series. Thanks for reading!