A glass was crushed under the undulating force of a spoon, held in Dumbledore's hand. "Everybody," he bellowed. "Listen, everybody! General Lamarque is dead! The opening ceremony will be over in approximately 24 seconds. Classes will commence in about er… now!" The naughty, naughty children groaned and put their clothes back on reluctantly. Emma Watson transformed back into little Hermione. "Wait! How about Voldemort?" Hermione asked. The whole school turned to her and in unison, spat, "Will you shut up? Seriously! Such a teacher's pet!"
But the plot hole was simply resolved as such: determined to fulfill the prophecy, Harry managed to get his troll-like fingers to cooperate and grip his wand between his thumb and forefinger. "Firearmcus Produco!" He grunted. A type 69 85mm rocket propelled grenade materialized in his gargantuan arms. Harry fired a shot at his mother and concluded what 7 books amounted to in this paragraph. His death eaters, met with the death of their oppressive dear leader, died shortly of relief.
The students gathered their books and parchment, then hurried to their classes. Harry the Grotesque hobbled behind the ice prince. "All this time! Why didn't you tell me, Harry?" Draco asked brusquely. "Wonktnodi…" Harry mumbled in shame. Draco turned around to confront his boyfriend, but due to a wave of nausea, had to turn away immediately with his hands plastered over his lips. He had no idea whether to laugh or cry. Harry attempted to balance a warty finger on the blond's shoulder without crushing him but was shrugged off immediately. "Don't touch me!" Draco screeched. However, they had already reached the classroom. They parted ways to sit with their respective friends.
The first lesson was Dark Arts. Snape was their teacher, and it was his first day on his dream job. An out-of-character twinkle in his eye manifested as he declared that they would be dealing with boggarts that day. "And as Dumbledore conveniently has a boggart infestation in his colon, we shall attempt to kill two birds with one stone and subdue the parasitic creature together. Do not be alarmed when it takes on the form of your most erotic sexual fantasy. Just remember to cast the Riddikulus charm and it will simply turn into a sex toy for you to relieve yourself," He finished. With that, Dumbledore presented himself into the room. A little fanfare he composed heralded his entrance.
Who slew the hungarian horntail while his wand was up his ass?
It's Dumbledore!
Who's the headmaster who's hole is loose and vast?
It's Dumbledore!
Who slept with Voldemort and lived to tell the tale?
It's Dumbledore!
Who, when it comes to sexual advances, never fails?
It's Dumbledore!
The man himself swaggered into the classroom. Oblivious to the various looks of repugnance, he motioned for the nonexistent applause to come to an end. "Thank you, thank you, everyone. Now, for the moment you've all been waiting for…" Dumbledore turned and faced his ass towards the room of students. He hiked his robe upwards as the children traipsed into a queue behind him. Using his two hands, Dumbledore opened his much-revealed chamber of 'secrets'. It was nothing the students had never seen before. With an air of nonchalance masking his anxiety, Longbottom, first in line, faced the boggart. It rose out of the depths of Dumbledore's asshole and transformed into a sexy little mandrake lounging on a couch like a french girl, naked but for an exquisite necklace strung around it's tasteful neck. "Not bad," Professor Sprout, happening to walk by, commented. Mistaking the herbology professor for the boggart, Neville casted the Riddikulus charm on her. She turned into a blow-up doll, never to be seen again. Neville, red-faced, hurried away to the nearest bathroom with the doll clutched in his arms.
Next in line, Draco stepped up. The boggart quickly took on the form of a hippogriff pissing on his face. The boy gasped in pleasure and began palming his erection. "Malfoy! As you are my favourite student, I hereby give you permission to enjoy this boggart presently." The other students groaned at this blatant display of favouritism, but nothing could be done. After 20 minutes of Malfoy forcing despicable acts unto the hippogriff, the students spent another witnessing an impatient Hagrid having his turn.
Finally, the next person could try on the boggart. Hermione, confident as always, stood in front of the creature. It took on the form of Viktor Krum getting it on with a broomstick. "OH!" She moaned, her hands wandering under her skirt. "Granger! How dare you! You little fucking mudblood!" Snape spat. Even Draco cringed slightly, but Snape remained unfazed by what he just let slip out of his mouth. "No wonder you are unable to pass this assignment; you are a filthy mudblood." Sobbing, Hermione burried her face in her hands and ran out of the room.
"Who's next?" Snape bellowed. Harry stepped up. The boggart quickly transformed into Emma Watson in a Burberry ad. This confused a few of the students, who tried to cast the Riddikulus charm on it all at once. The boggart died. "Class dismissed," Snape announced. "But I haven't even got my turn yet," Ron whined, but nobody cared.