Chapter 7

The next week at breakfast, Harry and Amy were seen smirking. The Slytherins glanced at them warily, having learned that these two were not to be messed with long ago.

"Virtue, we need to talk about your behavior," sneered a Slytherin. Amy recognized him as Joseph Stark, a fifth year boy. "You need to learn your place you filthy mudbloods. You should be licking our boots."

"Oh, really?" asked Harry and Amy in eerie synchronization. The full common room noticed the slightly crazed look in their eyes and shivered as twin sadistic smiles appeared on their faces. "Who's going to teach me?" they asked, sounding excited.

"I am," growled Stark. His four goons lumbered towards them. "Get them."

"I claim one and two!" Amy claimed excitedly with her smile growing wider and crazier.

"Three and four!" returned Harry, glancing at the goons.

As goon number one charged Amy, she grinned wildly. Suddenly, she disappeared. An insane laugh echoed around them as Amy zipped around on the ceiling, flipping off the wall and knocking the boy unconscious. She thrust her hand at the second boy, laughing insanely. Meanwhile, Harry had grown an insane grin. He had dropped silently behind the third boy, stabbing him with the dagger of Rowena that Amy had tossed him expertly. The blade connected with the ankle. The boy fell unconscious in less than a moment.

"I got five!" cheered Amy as she released the second unconscious boy. She blurred into a flip while Harry threw a dagger at her. Amy arrived, landing in front of Stark with the dagger of Rowena pressed to his throat. Her crazed eyes betrayed her true feelings, like Harry's as he arrived next to her. "Joseph Stark," she purred.

"And how were you going to teach us?" whispered Harry eerily, although in the silent room, it was loud. Both dragged up one of Stark's sleeves and had begun drawing patterns on his arms. "Well, then?" he breathed.

Stark bowed his head in submission, although he was a fifth year, he felt the compulsion to listen and obey, and he did so.

"Perfect…Harry, don't you think we should…?" Amy suggested eerily.

Stark had runes carved into his skin, written out of his blood pressed in both arms. The whole of Slytherin had watched the wild and insane Virtues.

"Oh, don't worry," Amy and Harry eerily spoke in synchronization. "This isn't on you."

As Severus sat down, the Virtues winked at him in sync.

It's time. Do not eat or drink anything.

Ten minutes later, Quirrel's turban began to slowly unwrap. Slowly, slowly, until….SNAP! It whipped around him and bound him tightly. Slowly…he rotated…and Voldemort could be seen at the back of his head.

"AH!" screamed the Hall.

Above him wrote the words:

Here Lies Quirrel

Or Voldemort

Or Quirrel-mort

Yes, or that

But we're getting off track here

Exactly

Shut up, Furball

Why don't you Spire?

ANYWAYS

Poor Quirrel-mort

SHUT UP

Okay, okay

Here lies Quirrel-mort

Dead

Gone from the world forever

Killed by his embarrassment

Poor guy

Yes, well, no need to fear the scary DADA teacher anymore

Yes, because Dumbly-dork will definitely take care of him…

You know, it's so ironic that the guy who killed his sister defeated a Dark Lord

…who was his best friend

…who shared his ambitions

ANYWAYS

You're welcome!

Be glad that we got rid of this blubbering idiot

I actually thought we never would…

Shut up, Furball

Sincerely,

Pranksters:

Furball

Aspire

Oh! Wait! Our recruits!

Oh yes, sorry. If anyone,

ANYONE,

Would like to join the

TOTALLY AWESOME

Anima Trio

Please speak with the Slytherins

Yes, the Slytherins, specifically the first-years

And we are proud to invite Fred and George Weasley, the best pranksters other than us

And the marauders

Okay, bye!

Bye!

The whole Hall stared at the colorful banner whose words had written themselves out naturally. Quirrel hung, whimpering from the ceiling as Dumbledore stood.

I do not own Harry Potter. Please review-I need it! :D