The World Order

By: Dirty Reid

Chapter 4: The Stifmeister


Predictably, Umbridge had followed Dumbledore and Stifler to the Headmaster's office, and was demanding an explanation.

"Professor Dumbledore, why was I not informed that you would be adding another course to the curriculum this year?" she asked in that sickeningly sweet voice of hers. The smile she had painted on though, did not reach her eyes, which conveyed a great deal of consternation. Consternation that was directed at Professor Stifler, who was sitting lazily in a conjured chintz armchair, gazing at nothing and looking unnaturally bored.

"I did not believe it was a detail that warranted the attention of anyone but me, Madam Umbridge." Dumbledore answered calmly. The Ministry spy was going to try and weasel information out of him. She thought that her position as Senior Undersecretary gave her rights to know all happenings inside Hogwarts. But as he had said to himself before, Warlord Dumbledore played dirty. If she wanted to be nosy, he would not play her game.

"A detail that wouldn't warrant attention, you say. Adding an entirely new course is no small thing, Headmaster." Umbridge replied, the look in her eyes growing more dangerous. Albus was not intimidated.

"I grow tired of skirting the issue Dolores. You may be here on the authority of the Ministry, but this is my school. I do not have to disclose knowledge to anyone, should I not desire to, regardless of their station." He said firmly, the twinkle in his eyes dimming. Umbridge's plastic smile vanished and her jaws clenched together. Sensing that Dumbledore would not play her game, she turned her attention to Stifler.

"Steven, the Headmaster said that you would be teaching Physical Conditioning. What exactly does that entail?" she asked, still in that syrupy sweet voice. Stifler blinked and turned his blonde head to gaze at her. His eyes were cold and lifeless.

"Oh, sorry, I wasn't listening. Did you say something?" he asked politely. Umbridge began to shake with anger at being so casually blown off.

"I asked you what you would be teaching, Professor." She bit out in a tone suggesting she were speaking to a small child. Stifler's eyes narrowed to slits.

"Y'know, talking to people like they're retarded is a bad way to build positive relationships. Didja ever think about that?" Stifler asked. His cold scowl was replaced with a mischievous grin that just plain hollered 'I'm playing with you'.

"Stop evading the question and answer me!" Umbridge snapped, her hand going for her cardigan, undoubtedly where she kept her wand.

"I wouldn't pull out your little stick if I were you," Stifler whispered. Though his voice was barely audible, Umbridge was shrewd enough to hear the bucketful of venom behind it and paused. "By the time you pulled it out to threaten me, I could have crossed the distance between us and broken your arm in two places." Stifler continued, still in a whisper. Umbridge's ugly face betrayed an expression of disbelief.

"Nobody can move that fast." She protested. Stifler simply adopted a sardonic smirk, mixed with a healthy amount of derision.

"Well I guess you have to ask yourself one question: Do I feel lucky?" Stifler asked as an edge of steel slid over the poison in his voice. Dumbledore had to restrain a smile as his fellow Warlord used one of his favourite movie quotes. Umbridge held their eye contact for just a few seconds before she had to look away.

"Dolores, don't worry about what I'm going to be doing to the students. I expect you're going to have enough trouble trying to teach with that attitude of yours. And I use the word 'teach' very loosely." He couldn't resist putting one last jab in there. Looking furious at Dumbledore and Stifler's lack of cooperation and visibly trembling, Umbridge rose from her chair and waddled towards the exit. "I will be watching you," she proclaimed quietly, staring intently at Stifler. The blonde rolled his eyes as Umbridge exited the office and slammed the door.

"Ugh," Naruto shivered. "The thought of her watching me almost makes me want to go celibate until I can deal with her." He grumbled. Dumbledore's mind interpreted this statement several ways, but he chose to refrain from saying anything. It's not like his fellow Warlord was a raging pervert who would go after girls younger than he was… right?

"Just… try and make sure what you teach the students doesn't look too much like teaching them to fight effectively in lieu of magic, alright?" he suggested. Naruto narrowed his eyes and took on a thoughtful expression for a few seconds.

"… Alright," he said finally, "I'll see what I can do. Anything else?" he added with a cocked eyebrow. Albus nodded.

"I would like for you to- with subtlety- make it known to Harry that you can and will give him advice or help if he needs it, and act as more of a friend than a professor." He reinforced. Naruto nodded.

"Okay then. I'll make my move after a week. G'night Albus." The blonde rose from his chair cracked several bones very loudly as he stretched and turned to stroll out of the office, his black trench coat flaring slightly behind him.

'How is it that everybody except me can do that? Naruto can't even do magic and he can do it!' Dumbledore seethed. It was true; no matter what enchantment he tried or charm he used, he could never make his robes or coats billow out as Naruto's had just done. It was his dirty little secret.

'Maybe it's because you dress like Elton John after he just snorted a pound of coke and got it into his head that he was a wizard.' His traitorous mind chuckled snidely.

'Shut up!'


Harry's first week back had been absolutely terrible. The first night in his dorm revealed that Seamus Finnegan, someone he was on fairly good terms with, believed the Daily Prophet's bullshit about him being a deranged lunatic looking for attention. When he woke up the next day and went down to breakfast, people whispered unflattering things about him in the halls. Their constant hiss of conversations continued as he ate his breakfast and tried to ignore it.

It got worse. His first class of the day was double Potions. Great; locked in a dungeon for two hours with Severus Goddamned Snape and the Slytherins. True enough, the potion they had to brew was incredibly finicky, and Snape made it no easier by hovering around like a grease-coated ghost, whispering snide comments to anyone not in his own house. On the plus side, he didn't manage to lose Gryffindor any points. That one little positive point counted for nothing though, when Snape assigned all of the students a one-foot essay on the properties of Moonstone, and how it could be used in potion making.

Their next class was Transfiguration. McGonagall spared them no mercy after her speech about their upcoming OWL exams, asking them to vanish a goblet. Being so distracted made the task near impossible. By the end of their one hour class, all Harry had managed to do was make his goblet ever so slightly transparent. As per usual, Hermione had outshone everyone, vanishing her goblet to a point where it was near invisible. To cap it off, they were given an assignment on vanishing, explaining where they had gone wrong and what they could do to improve their results.

Their last morning class was Herbology. Professor Sprout started off the class with the standard OWL importance speech before instructing them on how to drain the poison from Venomous Tentacula. No one went the lesson without getting scratched, but the worst case of poisoning only left Ernie MacMillan slightly nauseous. Once the hour was up, Sprout assigned them a report on the medical uses of Tentacula venom.

Harry, Ron and Hermione agreed to eat lunch quickly so as to leave some time to start on their homework. They all stopped when Fred and George Weasley crashed onto the bench right beside them.

"Total rubbish, it is." Said Fred with conviction.

"Too right, brother of mine." George added.

"What's rubbish?" Hermione asked.

"Defense class," Fred answered.

"Our esteemed 'Professor'-"

"-And we are feeling gracious by calling her that-"

"-Will not be teaching us any sort of magic."

"We're expected to know when to use defensive magic-"

"-But we won't be allowed to use it."

"That's why the class is rubbish." They finished in unison.

"I third that," Added Colin Creevey, who had just sat down not too far away. He was joined by Ginny Weasley, who had been in the same class as him.

"… Barely a day in and already the year's starting to go down the tubes." Harry groused, prompting a grin from Ron and the twins.

"I wouldn't go that far just yet Harry," Ginny piped up, causing multiple sets of eyes to be turned to her.

"Why so?" Hermione asked, leaning in to watch the younger redhead intently.

"Colin and I just came from a Physical Conditioning class." She said. It was only then that the Golden Trio and the twins noticed that Ginny and Colin were wearing the ratty old clothes that had been requested on their school lists.

"What's it like? Is Professor Stifler a good teacher? What will you be doing in the class?" Hermione fired off in rapid succession. Ginny and Colin blinked. Their slightly intimidated expressions made the twins restrain snickers.

"Well… it promises to be an interesting class. And before you tell me to stop being evasive Hermione," Ginny held up her hand when Hermione opened her mouth "Stifler told us that if anyone asked, all we were allowed to say was 'What you learn in the Stifmeister's class stays in the Stifmeister's class.' He promised pain and humiliation if we didn't comply." Ginny shuddered and Hermione frowned.

"'Pain and humiliation'?" she repeated, as though she had not understood the words.

"Yep. And the worst part was that he had this- this- this really creepy grin on when he said that." Colin added. There was silence for a second before Ron started to laugh.

"What are you laughing at?" Harry asked. Ron took a moment to regain enough control to speak.

"He (laugh) calls himself (wheeze) 'The Stifmeister'-!" He broke off to wheeze out another gale of laughter. "That has to be the weirdest nickname I've ever heard!" He stopped laughing when Hermione started to give him the stink eye. When Ron had calmed down, she turned her attention back to Ginny and Colin.

"Can you tell me anything else about Professor Stifler?" she asked as she looked up to the staff table where the young, almost harmless-looking blonde was casually eating something without a care in the world.

"He's-"

"He's disgusting," Colin overrode Ginny. The redhead whipped her head around to glare at him. "No, I'm serious and you can't deny it! It's like he has no morals or inhibitions at all! He'd probably teach the class naked if he could get away with it." He finished. Harry, who had been taking a drink at that very second, spat it back out. No one was sitting across from him, fortunately enough.

"Seriously?" Hermione asked, trying desperately not to picture what Stifler would look like naked. Colin could swear that she started to colour.

"Dead serious. He swears constantly, he makes mean jokes at his students' expense, and I'm pretty sure he was hitting on one or two of the girls at one point." Colin elaborated. The twins looked torn between frowning and howling with laughter. Harry and Ron looked dumbstruck. Hermione's face betrayed her mental denials of Colin's description.

"He can't be that bad, Colin," Hermione answered almost indecisively. "Ginny?" she asked the youngest Weasley, hoping that the elder Creevey brother was exaggerating. Ginny looked conflicted for a few seconds, as though she were thinking of words that got around Stifler's order of silence.

"Well… On the plus side, he doesn't take pureblood attitude. When one of the Slytherins started mouthing off to him about heritage, he tore him a new one. You didn't hear this from me, but he expects us to work with members of the other houses, regardless of which one it is. 'Violence is an acceptable form of quelling dissention in the ranks,' he said." Ginny quoted in what seemed to be a very bad rendition of Stifler's voice. After the quick laugh, shared by everybody but a scandalized Hermione, Ron quickly pulled out his timetable and began scanning it.

"Aw, bloody hell!" Ron groaned, ignoring Hermione's automatic "Language, Ronald!"

"We don't have him until Friday! And it's with all four houses!"


Looking forward to Stifler's Friday class was the only thing that kept Harry going through the week. His homework was piling up, made only worse because of his torturous detentions with Umbridge. Despite his friends' pleadings, he refused to report her methods to Dumbledore or McGonagall. Angelina Johnson and the rest of the Quidditch team weren't too happy either, what with his detentions cutting into his ability to practice and all. Yep, this week sucked.

It was this thought that made Harry enter Stifler's classroom in his cousin's hand-me-downs with a dull, lifeless look on his face. Ron and Hermione- similarly attired- who had been attempting to cheer him up, stopped talking as they took in the sight of the classroom, which had clearly been expanded to accommodate the forty-four fifth year students. The desks were set up in clusters of four, numbering eleven in total. Hanging on the walls were various tapestries with writing on them in what appeared to be Japanese. There were a few English ones here and there, but Japanese was a majority. In addition, there were foam mats, punching bags in several variations, lengths of jump ropes, racks of weights and rolls of wrist wraps lining the walls.

"This place looks like a dojo." Hermione remarked more to herself.

"Huh?" Ron asked. "A what?"

"A dojo, Weasley. It's where people go to practice martial arts." Said someone behind them. A quick turn revealed the speaker to be Justin Finch-Fletchley, accompanied by several other 'Puffs.

"How do you know that?" Ron asked.

"I practiced karate for a few years," Justin answered as he took a quartet of tables with his housemates. Satisfied with the answer, Ron sat down with Harry and Hermione. Over the next five minutes, the rest of the fifth years trickled into the classroom. Their reactions ranged from disdainful and confused (The purebloods) up to enthusiastic (The Muggleborns and Muggle raised) as they saw the equipment. After all of the desks were filled, the students began to whisper about where Stifler could be.

"Where is he?" Hermione hissed to no one in particular. "We're burning valuable time because Professor…" She trailed off as her eyes set on something at the front of the classroom. Harry and Ron followed her gaze, and indeed, they saw something unusual. There, at the teacher's desk, was a magazine floating in the air. A page turned after a few seconds. Hermione narrowed her eyes to get a better view of what the magazine was; an action mirrored by a handful of other students who had also noticed the floating magazine…

"Oh my God!" Hermione spluttered, "That's disgusting!" She was of course, referring to the fact that the article in question was a copy of Hustler Magazine. Across the room, the collective reaction was similar.

"What's disgusting?" Ron asked, clueless as usual.

"Hustler is pornography, Ron!" Hermione snapped. The redhead snapped his eyes to the floating magazine, and Hermione rolled her eyes. "Typical," she muttered. The magazine shut and flopped down on the desk a second or two later. As the chair behind the desk ground across the floor, Steven Stifler somehow phased into visibility. His appearance warranted confused muttering from the student populace; he looked like he was going to a biker rally, not a workout session. His black leather jacket stretched over his broad shoulders, and his black leather pants hugged his legs and… other parts.

"Afternoon, kids." Stifler greeted the collective of fifth years with a grin, showing off his gleaming white teeth. "Welcome to your first Physical Conditioning class. As you know, this is a very important year, insert standard OWL speech here, blah, blah, blah." He raised his hand and flapped his fingers, mimicking someone talking. To say the class was surprised at Stifler's blasé attitude was an understatement.

"But even though I'm a teacher, I hate written work and theory just as much as some of you do; more so now because I'd have to read and grade the fucking things." Several students gasped as Stifler casually dropped an F-bomb. "So for all you non-nerds or not-so-studious students, this is your lucky class. Most, if not all of the work here is going to be practical, so do me a favour and when the next lesson rolls around, put all of your books at the back of the room.

"I can tell by the looks on some of your faces that you've all had a hard week. Since I'm feeling generous today, we won't be doing anything except going over some of the course material." Stifler paused and grinned as a few cheers went up through the class. "I thought you might like that." He turned back to his desk and pulled a roll of parchment up.

"I like to be able to put a persona to a name. So when I call you out, I'm going to have you introduce yourself, and tell us a couple things about you. I might ask you a question or two here or there, just a heads up." He was about to start looking for someone to start when a raised hand caught his bright blue eyes. "Yes Miss…?" Stifler trailed off, waiting for the young girl (Hermione) to answer him.

"Granger, sir. Hermione Granger." She answered. Stifler nodded. "Could you maybe demonstrate so we have something to go by?" she asked. The blonde stared at her for a second before he snickered almost unnoticeably. Hermione noticed and raised her eyebrows.

"Sorry, had a quick flashback. One of my old classmates asked the exact same thing when our teacher sprung this on us a while back. Anyway, sure I can give you a demonstration." Stifler cleared his throat and adopted a thoughtful expression for a second. An evil grin lit up his face, causing Hermione to wonder what she had just gotten herself into.

"Hello everyone, I'm Steve Stifler… and I have an eleven inch penis." Stifler said with a completely straight face. Utter silence greeted him. Very quickly, looks of disgust, embarrassment, disbelief and quite a few of envy began to fill the room. Seeing Hermione blush was too much:

Stifler threw back his head and roared with laughter.

Ten seconds later, the blonde still hadn't stopped laughing. After thirty seconds, his face was red and tears started to stream down his cheeks. At the one minute mark he had slumped into his chair, slammed his head into his desk and was beating his fist against the wood. It took another thirty seconds for Stifler to compose himself enough stand back up, but he still broke into a giggle fit. "Sorry," he managed to wheeze out, "but the looks (Snort) on your faces… (gasp) priceless!" Stifler took a shaky breath as he composed himself.

"Anyway, that fact aside, I'm an amateur author, and judging by some of the 'I want you' looks from some of the ladies in this place, drop dead sexy." He lowered his voice to a deeper and much sultrier tone as he said 'drop dead sexy'. A handful of the girls shivered at his tone of voice, but not daring to voice their agreement.

They would do so that night, naked in their beds, while visions of Stifler danced through their heads.

The boys were of a different mind. "Colin was right," Harry murmured to Ron. "He's disgusting."

"I heard that, kiddo!" Stifler snapped. Harry jumped and shifted his eyes to Stifler, who was staring at him… from halfway across the room.

'How the bloody hell did he hear me? I was just whispering to Ron! The people at the next table couldn't hear what I just said!' Harry wondered. Apparently Ron, Hermione and Dean- who occupied the fourth desk- were wondering the same thing.

"You say I'm disgusting… I say 'If you got it, flaunt it.' 'It' here having the meaning of sex appeal." Stifler shrugged, still with a grin on his face. He addressed the class before Harry could say anything else.

"Just a word of warning to all of you: As I just displayed, I have extremely good hearing. How good is it, really? I could hear a pin drop from across the Great Hall if I really wanted to, so don't try talking shit about me inside or outside of my class." Stifler warned, leering at the class. "Now, let's start with the introductions. They don't have to be as… personal as mine, but they should say at least a little bit about what kind of person you are. Let's start with you, shall we?" Stifler pointed to Millicent Bulstrode, who began her introduction without missing a beat.

The introductions went swiftly along. True to his word, Stifler asked a few random people a question or two. A few of them were honest questions; a few of them were joke questions and often sexual in nature. Six times he snapped at people for slandering the one who was introducing themselves, but not once did he take points from a house. That struck Harry as rather odd. Finally, dread wracking him, Harry stood and made his introduction. He hated the feel of everyone's eyes upon him, but luckily, everyone remained silent throughout his fairly generic introduction. Stifler though, did not gesture for the next person to introduce themselves. That meant he was going to ask a question.

"Harry… Can I call you that?" he backed up, cocking one of his eyebrows. Harry nodded slowly, unsure of where the blonde was going. "Okay good, cuz I was gonna call you that anyways," Stifler said, prompting a restrained laugh from a handful of students. "I just wanna say that I believe you." And he moved on. At that point, Harry could have cared less if Stifler started roasting him; having him say those words just made his week.

It was near the end of the first hour of their double period when the introductions ended. "Now that we've all introduced ourselves, as promised, I'll tell you a little bit about my course." Stifler stopped behind his desk and leaned forward, grasping either end of the furniture. "I know for a fact that some of you have been thinking all week 'Why is physical conditioning necessary?' Well, brace yourself because the truth is about to run you over like a freight train from hell. Over the past week, I've seen eleven instances of violence break out. Of all these instances, not a single party used anything but magic. I have observed most of you, and I have come to the opinion that without your wands, none of you could effectively fight your way out of a wet paper bag. Having noticed this fact before me, the Old Man proposed that I come here and teach you. Teach you what, though?

"I'm not going to be teaching you magic, nor am I going to teach you how to defend yourself because Frog-Bitch won't do it. No, I'm going to be teaching you something very simple; I'm going to be teaching you how to fight." Stifler stopped to take a breath and observe the mixed expressions on the students' faces.

"Along the way, I'm going to be teaching you the values of exercise because, by the looks of things, some of you pudgy little bastards could use that knowledge." Stifler's expression was grim as he glared at the now extremely self-conscious body of students.

"For our first few weeks together, quite simply, I'm going to be busting your asses so hard that some of you might wish you were dead before the month is out. But, if you can tough it out, the reward will be well worth the pain. For example…" Stifler stopped talking as he grabbed the zipper on his jacket and pulled it down in one fluid motion.

The girls thought he was cute before; they all thought he was a god now as he shrugged off his jacket to bare his upper body. His skin was blemish free and his muscular build was something straight out of a Playgirl magazine. Sitting close to where he was standing, Tracy Davis could have sworn she saw a bead of sweat fall from his hairline onto his sharply defined six pack and evaporate instantly.

What drew the attention of everybody though, were the two tattoos on Stifler's body. The first was some sort of whirlpool on his belly with spiraling characters surrounding it. For reasons no one could place, staring at this image gave them the creeps. The second tattoo was a long string of characters wound around his left arm like a snake. It extended from just below his armpit all the way to his wrist.

"I've looked almost everywhere, and I've found no evidence of magic ever leading to this kind of perfection." Stifler grinned, striking a heroic pose. "Gentlemen, if you follow my instructions, you could very well end the year starting to look like me. Minus a really big part, if ya know what I mean." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, eliciting a repeat of the responses to his introduction.

"Moving on. Before I start to whip you all into shape, I'll be dividing you into teams. These teams are of my choosing, and that brings us to some of the life lessons I will drill into you during this class." Stifler grasped the top of the blackboard by his desk and roughly spun it. After several rotations, it landed on the opposing side, which had several bullet points on it.

"Lesson, the first:" Stifler recited, pointing to the first bullet point. "Heritage-based prejudices, under absolutely no circumstances your twisted little minds can conceive, will not be tolerated. Those who ignore this lesson will be subjected to the worst sorts of punishment I can think of. Slytherin house, I'm looking at you." Stifler narrowed his eyes and glared at said house members, who flinched under the piercing gaze.

"Oh, don't act so high and mighty just yet Ronny Boy." Stifler called, causing Ron to snap his gaze back to the blonde. "That little comment about you and Hermione being able to taunt Draco and him being unable to respond brings me to lesson the first part two: House-based prejudices, again, under no circumstances you can think of, will also not be tolerated. Why am I telling you this? Because whether you like it or not, you will be teamed up with members of all the other houses, no exceptions. Violation of this tenet is also punishable by anything I can think of." Stifler grinned as many members of the class looked at each other, shot him expressions of great chagrin, or just muttered unhappily. When the students expected him to continue on with his life lessons, they were again thrown off when he flipped the board back over.

"For the remainder of the period, you all can ask me questions about whatever comes to mind. They can be about me, about the class, it doesn't really matter. I will answer what I'm capable of answering, although if you ask about something I consider private, I'll let you know. Ask me good questions, and I might leave my jacket off." Stifler surveyed the room with a grin as a handful of the girls started drooling again, waiting for the hands to go up. "Yes, Hannah?" he asked as Hannah Abbott raised her hand.

"Um, I was just wondering Professor… How old are you?" the pigtailed 'Puff asked slowly.

"I'll be nineteen come October tenth." Stifler answered candidly. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, um, it's just that you seem pretty young to be teaching." Hannah elaborated. Stifler shrugged.

"Age doesn't count for much if you're the best at what you do." He said sagely. "Anyone else… Ernie?" He looked back towards the pompous Hufflepuff.

"Um, yes. Professor, you caught six students insulting the ones who were introducing themselves; but not once did you take a single point from their houses. Why?" he asked, tilting his head to the side. Stifler stared at him for a moment before a smirk pulled at his lips.

"You're a prissy little schmoe, ain'tcha?" He asked, making Ernie splutter partly out of indignance at being insulted, partly out of ignorance regarding the term 'schmoe'. "Anyways, let me give you a little bit of an eye-opener: The House Cup competition is a worthless piece of camel shit." He stopped when people started protesting their disagreement.

"Now, before you start getting shirty with me, let's look at a few things. First, what is the House Cup awarded for? Anyone?" Stifler paused and predictably, Hermione answered.

"The House Cup is awarded to the House with the most points, which are earned through academic achievements, and subtracted for rule-breaking and disrespecting teachers." Hermione recited. Stifler blinked, and nodded after a second.

"And should a House win the tournament, what is the end result?" Stifler continued.

"The House banners would be the décor at the feast, and the head of house would have the House Cup displayed in their office." Hermione answered. Stifler nodded.

"And what is the reward given to the members of the House?" Stifler asked. Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but closed it as a thoughtful look came over her face. Stifler's grin returned when comprehension lit up her eyes.

"Now you see? The House Cup competition is used to brainwash students into sucking up to the professors for absolutely nothing in return." Stifler explained for the benefit of the students who still looked confused. "Sure, getting good grades is all well and good, but the deal's a lot less sweet if there isn't a carrot at the end. A reward, idiots." Stifler sighed when some of the students looked at him blankly.

"That's why I didn't take points, Ernie; the competition doesn't mean anything. Remember that, all of you." The blonde finished. Ernie had one of his black eyebrows cocked in surprise.

"Well, that was, um… enlightening." Ernie managed. Stifler smiled widely.

"Glad I could intellectually stimulate you. Next!" He said instantly, again proving that he could throw you for loops whenever he wanted. His eyes roved the room until they rested on a raised hand belonging to "Lavender?" he addressed the pretty blonde.

"Um, I was just wondering… no, forget it." She waved her hand in dismissal.

"… Okay Lavender, just so you know, doing that will only make me want to know what you were going to ask even more, so you might as well ask it before I go all 'Puppy Eyes' on your sweet little ass." Stifler stifled a giggle when Lavender went three shades of red at his blatant flirting.

"Okay (giggle). My question was do you have a girlfriend?" Lavender admitted. Harry swore that the class became even quieter as every girl began to focus intently on Stifler. Except for Hermione, who rolled her eyes. For a few seconds, the class waited for Stifler to teasingly insult Lavender or make some sort of crude joke. What happened surprised them; Stifler's eyes dimmed and his mouth fell into a small frown.

"Not anymore… Stupid whore." He grumbled under his breath loud enough for a few people to hear. Lavender looked concerned.

"What happened?" Lavender murmured before clapping her hands over her mouth. With his incredible hearing, Stifler heard her.

"That's a little too personal, Lavender. And if you asked me your original question for the reason I'm thinking of, I haven't quite gotten over her yet, so you'll have to wait until after my imminent drinking binge to try and console me." Stifler smiled sadly. And just like that, the mood in the classroom went from lighthearted to 'heavyhearted'.

"Any more questions?" Stifler asked. Again, no hands rose for a few seconds until…

"Padma?" Stifler set his eyes on the Ravenclaw Patil twin.

"I was just wondering Professor, aside from your heartbreak, what you would consider an inappropriate question." She asked. Stifler blinked.

"Good question, Doll Two." Stifler snickered through his teeth when Padma blushed and spluttered at the unexpected nickname. He also noticed that Anthony Goldstein shot him a frown. 'Somebody's got it bad!' the (more) devilish part of his brain chirped.

"Well, since you put me on the spot like that…" He sighed loudly as he crossed his arms and looked off into space. A moment later, he blinked and returned to Earth.

"Well, one example would be asking me to prove to you that Big Poppa Fox is as long as he is." Stifler answered, laughing again as people looked disgusted or baffled.

"You… You call your… you call your ding-dong 'Big Poppa Fox'?" Hermione bleated, looking as though she was just asked how magnets work (1). Stifler tilted his head and gave her an odd look.

"You call cocks 'ding-dongs'?" He asked her. The bushy-haired girl was at a loss for words; Stifler was completely incorrigible.

"I'm sure every guy over… no, I know every guy over the age of thirteen nicknames their dick something. Of course, they'll never tell you, unless they happen to be the Stifmeister." The blonde grinned that shit-eating grin of his as the students processed what he had just told them, and looked shifty (the boys) at the same time. "Anyone else?" he asked. The predictable silence followed until Hermione's hand rose again.

"Hermione?" Stifler asked.

"You said in your introduction that you were an author. I've never heard of your works before. Do you write under a pen name?" she asked quickly. Stifler appeared to be thinking for a second before his expression went morose.

"Well, in truth, I inherited the series. My godfather was the original author, and when he died a couple years back, the responsibility of continuing the series just sort of passed on to me. That's part one of why you haven't heard of my… No, our series. Calling it mine sounds like sacrilege. Part two is because the books aren't written in English; they're written in Japanese, but I've almost finished translating all five of them." Stifler stopped to take a breath.

"You speak Japanese?" Hermione asked, somewhat impressed.

"What, the big tapestries written in Japanese didn't clue you in?" Stifler teased with that grin of his, making Hermione sniff at the light-hearted jab. "I studied in Japan for my entire academic career. So naturally, I had to speak the language." He answered.

"How many books have you written?" Terry Boot asked.

"My godfather wrote the first four, I wrote the fifth, and I've finished about a third of the rough draft of the sixth one. Mine wasn't quite as successful as his were, but I chock that up to being my first foray into writing and skeptical fans." Stifler explained.

"What kind of books are they?" Hermione pressed. Stifler snorted quietly.

"Well, my godfather's books started out leaning towards the adventure genre, but by the third book they took a turn towards the romantic side. My book takes the action of the first book to a whole new level. I think that step up is what caused some of the negative feedback from the fans." Stifler mused, stroking his chin.

"How action-y are we talking here?" Seamus Finnegan asked.

"Let me put it this way kid: Quentin Tarantino would be proud of me." Stifler replied. Many of the Muggleborn and Muggle-raised students were muttering amongst themselves, while the Pure and Half-bloods looked nonplussed.

"Who's Quentin Tarantino?" asked Susan Bones. Stifler grinned.

"A Muggle movie director. For those of you not in the know, a movie is kind of like a magic photograph, only much longer and comes with sound. Quentin Tarantino has directed quite a few movies, and all of them cater to people who- for lack of a better term- have boners for violence." Stifler grinned at the disgusted looks on the faces of the more prudish students, while some of them looked shocked.

"So yeah, my book is that violent." Stifler finished. He looked down at the black watch on his right hand. "We're getting near the end of the class, so we should only have time for a few more questions. Any takers?" The silence reigned for almost a minute before a very unexpected hand went up. "Draco?" Stifler addressed the blonde Slytherin.

"Professor, I was just wondering, what did they teach you over in Japan? I only saw you use magic when you were invisible and waiting for us." Draco stated. Stifler took a long look at him.

"Wish I could tell you kid, but ever since the Old Man offered me a position here, the Japanese Magical Government has been on me like a motherfucker. If I were to spill any secrets about what I was taught there, they'd have my ass with a side order of fries and coleslaw." Stifler chuckled at his analogy, as did a handful of the students.

"And why are you asking about my magical education? That has nothing to do with what I'm going to be teaching you." Stifler added with narrowed eyes. Draco blinked, giving pause at the blonde's sudden response, but not relenting.

"Well, what happens when we're physically fit but our potential opponents have wands? I seriously doubt that our fists will be able to match up to magic." He added, not realizing what he had just insinuated. It was this obliviousness that made him shrink back when Stifler glared icily at him.

"You do realize you just called me inferior to all people who can only wave their wands and throw magic around, right?" the blonde snarled. Draco's pale eyes widened.

"I-I didn't mean that, I just-"

"You just think you're better than me because I was taught to use my magic in a different way than you, and I spent years mastering how to fight with my body at the same time? Is that what you meant, you blue-blooded shit?" The insulting swears were not teasing anymore; they were vehement and spiteful. Draco looked half intimidated, half-convinced of Stifler's description of what he believed.

"Perhaps a demonstration is necessary. Stand up Draco, we're going to dance; your magic versus my physical prowess." Stifler picked his jacket off the floor and zipped it up. His boots made surprisingly little noise as he stepped into the large bare spot at the front of the class. Draco took his spot on the other side of the bare area, and gulped as he realized just how intimidating his 5'11" 183 pound Physical Conditioning instructor was.

"The rest of you, move to the back of the class." Stifler ordered, and everyone obeyed instantly. "Okay Draco, your objective is to try and incapacitate me. I do however, draw the line at curses that do things like slice, melt or explode stuff. Got it?" He explained. Draco nodded and pulled out his wand.

"No hard feelings when I hex you into next week?" Draco taunted with a sneer. The class gasped and reacted in shock. Stifler simply smirked as he cracked his knuckles; the noise was more like a rapid burst of gunfire.

"None at all, because you just wrote a cheque your ass can't cash you cockmongering queefburger." Stifler spat, laughing at the enraged face Malfoy made. It didn't help the mouthy Pureblood that the rest of the class was laughing at him too.

"You'll pay for that, Stifler! Stupefy!" Malfoy cried, blasting out a red curse quickly. He couldn't help but smirk when Stifler cocked an eyebrow, but didn't move. The smirk promptly vanished when the older blonde threw himself into a backflip, rising seven feet into the air; the curse missed him by a good six inches. When he landed back on the ground, he grinned cheekily. Irked further, Malfoy threw a Knockback Jinx, which Stifler didn't even jump away from, simply opting to lean to the side.

The 'dance' as Stifler called it, went on for several minutes. Malfoy tossed spells around like candy, and Stifler wound around them with little to no effort. Harry was amazed by Stifler's technique. He moved around so easily and with such grace it almost seemed like he was made of silk ribbons, flapping in the wind.

"What the hell, man?" Stifler asked after a no-hands cartwheel to dodge a Jelly-Legs Jinx. "It's been six minutes now. I thought you were going to 'hex me into next week'?" Stifler quoted Malfoy, using a derp voice.

"Shut up!" Malfoy shouted, tossing out a Tickling Charm which Stifler only had to move his head to avoid. "Fight back, dammit!" Famous last words.

"Okay!" Stifler chirped as he ducked under another Stunner and launched himself forwards like a spring, crossing the ten foot distance between Malfoy and himself. He transitioned into a roll and before Malfoy could react, ended in a crouch position about a foot away from the Slytherin and drove his fist forwards.

WHUKCH

"AAAAAH!" Malfoy emitted a short scream. Everyone in the room flinched at the pitch and volume, and craned their bodies to discover why: Stifler had punched Malfoy…

"Right in the jewels," Stifler crowed with a short laugh. The entire class soon echoed him as the Slytherin 'Prince' curled up on the floor, moaning and clutching his luggage. He was drowned out when the end of period bell sounded.

"And that's a wrap. Next class we'll be getting into teams and starting on some exercise. Have a nice day, since you're my last class this week you can talk about what happens in here to your fellow students, and enjoy having a concave dick you mouthy son of a bitch." Stifler spat as Malfoy slowly raised himself up and started to walk gingerly away.

"When my father hears about this-"

"Daddy Malfoy couldn't touch me with a ten foot pole Draco." Stifler called to the now scurrying Malfoy scion. Again, laughs went all around.


"Well, that class just made my week." Ron sighed contentedly as they walked down the hall. Harry grunted in agreement.

"Sure, he's funny, but he's so unprofessional." Hermione remarked. Ron rolled his eyes.

"You've got to admit though Hermione, it's a good change from what we'd normally go through. And don't even try to deny you were ogling him." Harry lightly ribbed his best female friend, who went pink immediately.

"Well… Okay, yes, he's good-looking, but he could at least try and swear a little bit less!" She added upon seeing Ron smirk. The teasing continued all the way down to the Great Hall and into dinner. In fact, the chatter about Stifler and his class didn't stop until…

"Ow!" Harry exclaimed, looking to his left to see what hit him. His interest piqued when he saw a parchment airplane (A fucking parchment airplane!) fall to the side of him. He picked it up cautiously and unfolded it. His eyebrows slowly rose as he took in the words.

"What is it?" Ron asked, for once without food in his mouth.

"Who's it from?" Hermione added.

"It's from Stifler," Harry answered, but he still wasn't quite sure he had read the note correctly. "He says he wants me to meet him in his office tomorrow at seven so we can 'get to know each other over a couple of drinks'." Harry quoted. Hermione and Ron looked at him in disbelief before snatching the note away from him to read it themselves.

"It's official," Ron started after a few seconds, "Stifler is the coolest teacher ever."


And that's a wrap! Sorry there wasn't a lot of action or funnies, but I promise I'll throw some in the next chapter as well as some… not telling! Please:

-1- Tell me whether or not you liked this installment

-2- Tell me what you SPECIFICALLY liked about this installment

-3- Tell me what you DIDN'T like about this installment

-4- Recommend a suitable improvement

(1) Problem, fans?

Peace,

DR

P.S.: You just lost The Game