A N: I'm someone who doesn't own Community. Or Harry Potter.
A N 2: And yet another Multi-Chapter Fic. Why, you might ask? Because I'm a masochist, that's why.
A N 3: You will soon guess who's who I hope. Ask if you don't.
A N 4: ROWLING SAID THAT H/Hr SHOULD HAVE BEEN ENDGAME! THE SHIPPERS WERE RIGHT, THE WORLD IS BLOODY ENDING! RUN FOR THE ESCAPE PODS!
It was their first year at Greendale Community College of Witchcraft and Wizardry as Britta, Troy and Abed entered their first lesson.
"Ugh, the lessons had begun too early today…" Britta complained, dark shades covering her eyes, as she slumped herself into a chair, Abed and Troy sitting near her, "… Let's hope this doesn't become a recurring thing."
Abed said nothing as he inspected the class.
In addition to him and his two new friends, few students were already in there.
On the front row was sitting a youngish looking girl with straight, brown hairs, notebooks and purple gel pens neatly arranged in front of her as she was already scribbling something. He couldn't see the badge on her robes but, by what he could deduce from her attitude so early in the morning, he thought that she could be nothing but a Ravenclaw.
Which was impossible, being Gryffindor and Slytherin the only two houses that Greendale could afford to have after all those lawsuits with that English boarding school.
Behind them were sitting two fellow Gryffindors, a black, middle aged woman with curly hairs and another black boy with dreadlocks.
Two old men were sitting behind them.
There weren't other students in the small classroom.
"It doesn't seem weird that there are so few students here?" Troy said, looking around.
"They're all probably still digesting last night feast…" She groaned, "… thing that we should do too."
The woman on the front row scoffed.
Britta glared at her from under her glasses.
"What's wrong, River Song?"
Abed and Troy stiffened at the mention of a character from the hated rip-off.
"Nothing…" She said with a bitter tone, "… I'm just silently expressing my frustration over one of my fellow students' lack of interest on her academic life."
Abed blinked. "Definitely a Ravenclaw"
"Well, I'm sorry about that…" Britta said with her most unapologetic voice, "… But you don't have nothing to say about my education, missy."
The woman gasped, turning to Britta, revealing her green badge, "Excuse me if I was concerned about the nefarious influence you could unleash on our mutual friend!" She snapped, gesturing to Troy.
He looked at her, confused, "Do I know you…?"
A look of hurt briefly flickered on her features, too fast for anyone to notice.
"I'm Annie, Annie Edison. We used to go to school together…"
He still looked confused.
She sighed, "Everyone is a robot..."
Realization hit him, "Oh, yeah, you were that girl who had that nervous breakdown in my old high school and turned that guy into a newt! You're Annie Adderall!"
Britta sneered, "See who's talking about bad influences…"
Annie gasped, "For your information, the only reason I took those pills was to rationalize the weird events that had began to happen to me after the awakening of my magic powers…"
"I was talking about your house…" She interrupted her, nodding her head towards her badge.
She looked down on her robes, "What's wrong with my house?"
"You're a Slytherin…" Abed explained in a detached tone, "… It's an house usually reserved to evil people…"
"… More like Nazi wannabes…" Britta muttered.
Annie gasped again, "Alright, first off, you cannot call me Nazi, I'm Jewish!" She indignantly said, "Second, Slytherin is not an evil house! Is an ancient and noble house who accepts only the most talented and most ambitious students that are…"
"Sorry, sweetie, not to intrude in your conversation…" The black woman on the back of the class said, leaning towards them, "… But if I remember well, the last two Dark Lords were from Slytherin…"
"Yes, and they were also British, but that doesn't mean that they're all evil…" Annie said with an haughty tone, returning to her purple pens.
"I don't know…" Troy chimed in, "… Those two British teachers yesterday at the feast kind of crept me out."
The door opened as a tall man with impeccably combed bed hair entered the classroom.
He flickered his wand as he slumped himself on the teacher chair.
The chalk beside him began to write on the blackboard.
"I'm Professor Winger…" He began as the chalk wrote his name on the middle of the blackboard, underlining it, "… And I will be your Defense against the Dark Arts professor for this year and, unfortunately, for many to come…"
"But I believed that the position as the DADA professor was cursed by…" Britta began whispering to Abed.
"I heard that too…" Professor Winger abruptly said, startling Britta, "… But apparently, after the last Dark Lord's defeat, the curse kind of vanished…" He made an hedgy laugh, "… which means that I am now stuck in this place as the head of the most hated house on the entire planet…"
She sighed, his brow frowned, his eyes closed, as he pinched his nose with his thumb and forefinger.
Troy was about to say something.
The professor raised an hand, "No, no, I'm fine…" He sighed, "… So, have any of you already opened our textbook?"
The various Gryffindors tried to nonchalantly look around.
Annie raised her hand.
"Yes, miss…" Professor Winger trailed off, a bit cheered by the presence of another Slytherin to endure his pain.
"Edison, Annie Edison…" She said with a proud tone, "… And I've learned our Defense Against the Dark Arts' book by heart before coming here…"
"Egghead…" Britta whispered into Troy's hear.
"Oh really?" Professor Winger asked challengingly, opening his book, "Tell me… the best way to protect yourself against a Boggart…"
"Jinx it with the Riddikulus spell while thinking funny thoughts." She steadily answered.
"That was easy, now…" He opened a page at random, "… What's the other magical creature outside a Dementor that can be repelled by the Patronus charm?"
"The… The Lethifold?" She stammered a bit.
He gave her an encouraging smirk.
"Right. Now, summarize page..." He opened his book on another random page, "… 394."
She stared at him, her gaze unfocused as the Gryffindors began snickering behind her.
He sighed, "Look, it's not important if you don't…"
"It's the beginning of the chapter about werewolves…" She said, her brow frowned, "… The one with the big photo of the Vitruvian Man with a Werewolf instead of the man…"
He looked impressed.
"Amazing preparation work, Miss Edison…" Professor Winger said, impressed.
"Thank you…" Annie said, faintly blushing.
"Teacher's pet…" Britta muttered under her breath.
Annie bitted back the instinct to stick out her tongue at her.
"However…" Professor Winger began saying before doing a dramatic pause, "… This will not be of any help in my class…"
"W-what?" Annie asked, slightly shocked by the man's revelation.
"Those books…" He said, gesturing to his open textbook, "… Are utter garbage. There is no need to learn how to defend yourself against a Lethifold, living them only in Tropical Regions, or to fight off Grindylows, findable only in lakes of some third world countries like Yorkshire…"
Annie saddened, casting her eyes down.
"However…" Professor Winger continued after a small pause, moved by his student's mood, "… 50 points will be given to Slytherin for the amazing inteligence displayed by one of his pupils…"
The Gryffindors groaned, some of them throwing bits of crumpled paper against Annie, a small smile on her lips.
"And 10 points will be taken from Gryffindors for each of his asinine students in this class…"
They groaned more loudly.
"Hey, I'm just compensating for the blatant favoritism your house will receive for the other professors, get used to it!" He said, is hands up in a defensive manner.
The class calmed as Britta began mumbling something about "Abuses of power" and "My anarchist group will hear about this!"
The black man with Dreadlocks raised his hand.
"Yes, Mister…" The Professor trailed off, staring at the glass-wearing man.
"… Dude, he's Lee Jordan. He's our Quidditch Commentator. He's a legend, how can you not know him?" Troy asked, shocked.
Professor Winger glared at him.
"Ehm, I mean… Professor…" Troy began stammering before being stopped by Professor Winger raising an hand in the air.
"And that's another 5 points that goes down for Gryffindor."
Britta gasped, "Oh, come' on, you cannot keep doing that! As students, we got the right to…"
Professor Winger's hand slammed on the desk, "Don't come here talking about rights to me! I was a lawyer before…" Collective groan of the class, seemingly unnoticed by the Professor, "… That idiot of our headmaster had the great idea to hire me in this stinking school without even contact me first just because he had deemed myself to be the "most valuable ally in his constant war for The Greater Good"!" He yelled, air quoting the last part.
"Then why don't you leave…?" Abed asked in a monotone tone.
"Why don't I leave…!?" Jeff snapped, looking up at him, "… Because I can't! This job constitutes a binding, magical contract that doesn't permit me to resign it! Which means that I can only be fired now!"
Realization hit him.
"I can only be fired…" Professor Winger repeated, rising from his chair and taking a covered cage from under his desk, a smirk on his face "… Alright, who wants to practice some magic on a cage of drunken Cornish Pixies?" He asked with a jovial-yet-wicked tone.
Annie raised her hand.
"Yes, Edison…?" He asked with a cheerful tone.
"Why do you have a cage of drunken Cornish Pixies under your desk, Professor?" Annie asked, alarmed by the man sudden behavior.
"Nearly caught drunken Cornish Pixies…" He said, amused by his students' sudden fear, "… Oh, come' on, don't be the buzz-kills of the situation. It will be fun…"
"Yaaayyyyy." His students cheered without enthusiasm.
He gave the cage some violent shakes.
"Crivens!" Some of the pixies in the still covered cage shouted angrily.
He freed them on the class, watching with dark glee as they began wrestling with his students.
"… Now, let's see if this will not spoil your idiotic plan, Dumble-Dean…"
"That was awful…" Britta groaned, holding an ice bag on her head while sitting on one of the chairs in the school infirmary's waiting room.
"Indeed…" Abed agreed with a dark, emotionless tone, "… Even if I must admit that, after the fourth headbutt received by those Scottish Smurfs, I begin to see things more…" He liked his lips while staring at Britta, "… clearly."
Britta began to uncomfortably shift on her sit.
"Thank God that Annie was there to save us…" Troy said with a relieved tone as Annie was being visited by Nurse Jackie on the other side of the door, "… That freezing charm was pretty handy."
Britta scoffed, "Oh, come' on, it was all an elaborate move of that cow and that jerk of the professor to make Slytherin look good …"
"I don't know…" The black woman from their class chimed in, "… She did seem as terrified as we were."
Britta scoffed, "We're Gryffindor, Shirley, and we're never terrified."
"Well, you seemed pretty scared when those things had begun to pull your hair…" Troy said, furrowing his brows.
Britta grunted, "That poor thing was afraid than us for what it was happening, especially after that egghead had began freezing them. She is clearly…"
"… An idiot which sole, pathetic porpoise in life is the one to please much older man with her limited and unfertile mind and that, as I suspect and therefore foreshadow, once she will understand that she will not gin anything in life with those methods, she will begin to sexually please them, probably ending in a sleazy, English strip-club to do a Centaur show every Wednesday, as the Jim Belushi she is." Abed interrupted her with a detached tone.
His companions stared at him in horror.
"Sorry, did I say it out loud?" Abed asked, confused, "I thought I had this "Dark Side" thing under control…"
Annie opened the door of the infirmary, running past them, tears on her eyes.
"I think she heard you…" Troy said with a guilty tone.
It was launch time on Greendale Cafeteria, and students were joyfully eating from their tables.
Professor Winger stared somberly at his plate.
"Now, Jeffrey, what you did in this morning class was very disloyal for you…" Dumble-Dean, a purple robbed man with a bald head and a long, white beard, said from his sit next to him.
Professor Winger smiled.
"… But I understand that you must have done it to improve the academic life of our students, and I forgive you."
He blinked.
"What?" He asked, shocked, "Dumble-Dean, I've just unleashed one of the most dangerous breed of Pixies in the world on a class filled with first years! You cannot forgive me for that!"
"I believe that everyone deserves a second chance…" Dumble-Dean said, a twinkle in his eyes.
Professor Winger stared at him in astonishment, "Look, Headmaster, I know that you need me for your masterplan and shit, but I've actually broke many of the laws that form our idiotically contorted legal system! I at least deserve to be fired…"
"Oh, come' on, Jeffrey…" the Dumble-Dean said, giving a small pat on his abs, "… You know that our most important rule here is "No harm, no foul". Wasn't that how you managed to discharge those two English twins after they had trapped their brother in that pyramid…?"
He sighed, thinking back at the good old days.
"Yes, Headmaster…"
"… This means that the only way for you to actually being fired by here is only to kill a member of one of the Pure Blood Families…" Dumble-Dean continued, the twinkle still in his eyes "… And you know what happens to people who do those kinds of things…"
"Yeah…" He said with a grave tone, "… Azkaban."
He shivered, thinking of the hellish warden of that putrid prison, and at the massive quantity of rotten memories they could awaken in him.
"Yeah, thinking about it, this place is not that bad after all…"
"TROLL! IN THE DUNGEONS!" Professor Chang screamed, entering the Cafeteria.
He stopped abruptly in the middle of the room, looking sick.
"Thought you ought to know…"
He fainted, crumpling on the floor.
The students stared amusingly at him before beginning to take pictures with their phones.
Dumble-Dean panicked, "OH GOD, NOT AGAIN! WHAT WE GONA DO NOW? WHAT WE GONA DO NOW?!"
Professor Winger rolled his eyes.
"And that's the Chessmaster who control our lives, ladies and gentlemen…"
"Dumble-Dean…" He whispered to him with an urgent tone, "… Maybe it would be wise for the students to return to their dormitories…"
"Yes, yes of course, Jeffrey…" The man began, his hands instinctively going to Professor Winger's abs.
"As for now, Dumble-Dean…" He repeated with a more authoritative tone.
"Yes…" The Dumble-Dean said, rising from his sit, "… Attention, students…"
Nobody gave a damn about the bald, nightgown wearing man.
Professor Winger coughed. It wasn't an imposing cough, or even a loud cough. He just coughed.
The cafeteria fell silent.
"Good…" The Dumble-Dean said with a cheerful tone, "… Now, we have a bit of an emergency here, so, if you would all please return to your dormitories and…"
The students groaned as some muffins were thrown at the man.
"Alright, Leonard, I saw you doing that!" The Dumble-Dean yelled at the old, snickering man from the front row.
"Dumble-Dean…" Professor Winger said, his hand touching Dumble-Dean's arm.
"Yes, yes…" He said, desperately trying not to faint for the man's touch, "… I was saying, your House-Heads will now accompany you to your dormitories, making sure none of you will be endangered by our… small problem…"
The students groaned again, this time with a lower voice, as the big Gryffindor group gathered itself around Professor Whitman.
Jeff sighed as he began to count the few students from his house gathered around him.
"Alright boys, first you return to the dormitories first you return to your hypercaloric dinner, now…"
One was missing.
"Crap!"
"… Where's Edison?"
Gary the Troll stumbled through the empty hallways of the school.
He didn't know what to do.
He didn't know who had sent him there.
He didn't even know who he was.
He just knew he needed to use the damn bathroom.
He entered the nearest door, uncaring for the signs fixed on it.
He heard weeping.
He looked around, confused.
He roared a question.
The weeping suddenly stopped.
His confusion grew as he approached one of the doors inside, short, terrified breaths coming from behind it.
He slammed it open.
He saw a bright, green light.
And that's the end of the story of "Gary the Troll and the Day He Transferred to Hell."
Professor Winger entered the girls' bathroom, suddenly feeling like a dirty old man.
The first thing he saw was the massive troll body lying lifeless on the floor.
The second thing he saw was the trembling, panicked teenager crumbled near it, her legs in her arms.
"Hey, hey…" He said as he carefully approached her, "… It's all right."
"All. Right…?" She asked, tears still falling from her eyes, "I've just kill someone, Professor. It's not. All. Right."
The lights in the room flickered for the emotional magic.
He winced.
"That's why you should never provide Teenagers with things that can maim people by the use of some fake Latin."
"I'm screwed…" She muttered, her voice broken, "… This school was my last chance for a normal life. And I've ruined it…"
He kept approaching her.
"… My mother was right, I'm just a stupid half-blood unworthy of our family name. They will now send me to Azkaban, to prove to the world how much of a failure I am…"
"Wait…" Professor Winger began to say, trying to divert her mind from the prospect of going to Azkaban, "… You're an Half-Blood… And you still choose to become a Slytherin…?"
She gave an edgy laugh, "… Like it does matter now."
He gently took away her wand from her grasp, kneeling besides her "… You're not going to go to Azkaban, I assure you…"
She looked up at him, her big, blue eyes filled with tears "B-but, how… I've just killed a…"
"A troll…" He said with a reassuring tone, "… A specie that, in our backward society, doesn't even have the right to exist. Not even the English Wizengamot would condemn you for that."
"I've still killed him…" She sobbed.
He gave her an encouraging smile, "… And I know you didn't do it on purpose."
Through Legilimency, he could clearly hear her still panicked thoughts, hidden by her damped doe eyes.
He sighed.
"Things I do for crying women…"
"Look, few people know this…" He said with a conspiratorial tone, leaning towards her, "… But I do actually have some office hours on my schedule. You could drop by my office if you want to discuss about it…"
Her thoughts began to calm.
"Okay…" She said with a small tone.
"Great!" He said, his hands loudly slapping his knees, "Now, let's go…"
He rose from the ground, outstretching his arm towards hers.
"Where are we going…?" She asked, confused, as she linked her arm with his.
"Well, Edison…" He said with a cheerful tone, "… We're off to see the Headmaster!"
She grimaced.
"What?" He asked, a bit offended by the girl's lack of excitement, "… That joke is a classic."
"If you say so, Professor." She said with a condescending tone.
He grunted, almost pouting.
She sighed, "Fine, but now that you've said it, we must do the full song."
This was his turn to frown.
"I wasn't planning to sing…"
She innocently flapped her eyes at him, "Please, Professor, it would make me very happy…"
"Damn!"
He deeply sighed, "Fine…"
She beamed at him.
And they went on their merry way, their arms linked, singing while skipping, the rotting corpse of the Troll still in the bathroom.
Plague Rats began to emerge from the sinks, starting to devour the flesh of the corpse, as they usually do when a corpse is around at Greendale.
Which happens more often than one might think.
