ZA: Buttocks! I'm so excited! Teehee!

Crispy: You do realize that's weird, right?

ZA: Heeheeheeheehee!

Crispy: And now here's Severus Snape with our disclaimer!

Snape: Come along now, Alba. *grabs ZA and attempts to drag her away* That's enough silliness for today.

Crispy: No, no! You're here to do the disclaimer.

Snape: Oh. Very well. Zsugami Alba does not own Harry Potter. *starts to walk away*

ZA: Ahem-hem.

Snape: *sighs* Or anyone's buttocks.

Crispy: Except her own.

"Speech"

'Thoughts'

Parseltongue

Excerpts from The Book

Chapter 10: Don't look, Ethel!*

Minerva adjusted the spectacles perched atop her nose and reached for the Weekly House Point Tally Report. 'Time to see how my little lions are doing.'

Gryffindor: 627

Hufflepuff: 638

Ravenclaw: 593

Slytherin: 702

'What in Merlin's name?' thought Minerva. 'How can that be possible?' She moved her gaze down to the detailed report below the summary.

"'50 points awarded for getting my reference' - Sal. '60 points for suggesting a bonfire' - Sal. 'And 40 points for bringing marshmallows for everyone' - Sal. '50 points for saying excuse me after that impressive belch' ? - Sal. 'And 20 points for excellent tone' ?!"

"It was a very respectful belch, Professor Snape," explained Sal. Severus was not amused.

"You do realize that Professor McGonagall gets a detailed summary of all the house points awarded each week?"

"Yes," said Sal. "Your point?"

Minerva barged right in on Albus' meeting with Kingsley Shacklebolt, marched up to his desk, and shoved the report under his nose.

"Something wrong, Minerva?" asked Albus.

"Look at this, Albus! 60 points for suggesting a bonfire! 40 points for bringing marshmallows! 10 points for each limb still attached to its owner, and an extra 10 to Smith for the speedy recovery of his leg! All awarded by someone named 'Sal'!"

Albus peered down his nose at the parchment before him. "Ahem. Yes. Well, Kingsley, I think we should reschedule for next Tuesday, don't you?"

"That sounds like a good idea, Headmaster," Kingsley agreed with a smirk. He bowed to Albus and Minerva before taking his leave.

"Someone has been tampering with the House Point system, Albus. This is outrageous!" Minerva stood before him, fuming. Albus could almost swear he saw smoke coming from underneath her peaked hat.

"Calm down, Minerva. There have been rumors that Dolores Umbridge was forcefully evicted from her post. I'm assuming that this 'Sal' is her replacement."

Minerva looked incredulous. "You're assuming? Don't you know? You are the Headmaster, last time I checked."

"I've been rather busy," Albus confessed. "What with Order business and Ministry runarounds...the disturbance among the house elves regarding abandoned clothing. I'm doing the best I can. The wards haven't alerted me to any danger. In fact, they seem to be a bit more...cheery than usual. The castle seems brighter, actually. Even at night."

"And you don't think that this is cause for concern?" questioned Minerva.

"Happiness is usually a positive sign, Minerva. Why question it?" Albus shrugged.

Minerva was not appeased. "I demand that you call up the official staff roster."

"Very well." Albus waved his wand over a corner of his desk, which proceeded to spit out a narrow length of parchment with a list of names. "Let's see...Headmaster: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore...Deputy Headmistress, Professor of Transfiguration, and Head of Gryffindor House: Minerva McGonagall…"

"Yes, yes! Skip to the end!" Minerva snapped.

Albus raised an eyebrow at her before skipping down to the bottom of the parchment. "Ahem. Yes. School Founder and Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts: Sal Slytherin. Huh. That's unexpected."

"Ah! There's some lovely new scorch marks!" sighed Professor Slytherin as he gazed upon the shattered remains of Umbridge's "Kittens of the World" signature plate collection glittering in the ashes in the center of the room. "This room is finally starting to develop a real patina."

"Professor Slytherin?" Hermione Granger knocked on the open door of the DADA classroom. "I was wonder- Did you start a fire in here?" She gazed down at the room's newest centerpiece in shock.

"Yes. Winnifred Rockbell came up with the splendid idea of burning those ridiculous excuses for textbooks. Then I went and got the kitten plates, and we roasted marshmallows and tortured that toad in effigy." He pointed upward to direct Hermione's gaze to the mannequin hanging from the chandelier. "Thurston Higgins did the face. I think it's quite like her."

"Is that one of her actual cardigans?" asked Hermione.

"Well, it wasn't as though I was going to wear it. Was there something you wanted?" he looked at her brightly.

"Uh, well...I've recently purchased this book called Hogwarts: an unabridged history, and I was wondering if you could confirm a few things for me. I don't think it's quite right. I mean, it can't be, can it?" She held the book out for him to take it.

Slytherin opened the book to find a marked passage:

Chapter Ten: Choosing the Mascots

I called the snake first chance I got. Helga seemed a bit put out, but she soon recovered and then couldn't decide between a badger and a Hungarian horntail. Both were, in her opinion, "inspirationally dangerous and not to be messed with." Everyone thought Rowena would choose a raven, but she muttered something that sounded like "nevermore" and opted for the eagle. Only Godric remained.

"I'm thinking puffskein. I want a puffskein. They're dead useful, and that's my final choi- Oh, look! A bunny! Sal, can I have a bunny?" Godric begged.

I responded in the negative. "It needs to be something that represents who you are at your core. Something people aspire to. Something noble and fierce. Perhaps with claws."

"I've got it, Sal. I know what I have to choose. I want...an armadillo." Rowena slapped her hand over her eyes.

Helga looked confused. "A what?"

"An armadillo!" declared Godric. "A noble creature with an armored shell around its body. But not like a turtle. Turtles bite. I don't like turtles unless they're really cute."

I gave him my most quelling "Sal" stare. "You can't have an armadillo. Or a turtle," I told him. It needs to be something fierce."

"Can I have a Helga?" he asked before Helga promptly broke his nose.

Weeks went by. "How about a monarch butterfly? We can flit and soar over the world…"

"No."

"I want a duck. But not an old duck, a new duck. And I could keep one as a pet and teach it to clean its room, and it could lay me eggs and fetch me things." Godric looked as though he was really hoping for this one.

"No."

"Can I have a corn snake?" he asked for the thirtieth time.

"No. I already have a snake. That includes all snakes."

"Oh." Then he brightened. "Can I have a really fuzzy caterpillar?"

"What is fierce about that? Caterpillars aren't dangerous."

"It could be a poisonous caterpillar," he suggested. "I think one bit me."

This was not good news if one were truly acquainted with Godric. "When? Where?"

"Yesterday by the lake," he told me.

"I meant where on your body?"

"On my finger," he said, holding out his right hand. "I asked Helga to kiss it better, but…"

"So that's why your nose is broken again? Let me have a look at it." It was swollen and green with sunshine yellow pus. "Are you sure it was a caterpillar?"

"Pretty sure." He thought for a moment. "Or it could have been a really fuzzy, short snake. Pretty sure it was a caterpillar, though." He nodded as if that decided the matter.

Rowena helped me fix Godric's finger. Luckily, we caught it before the damage became irreversible. You never really knew with Godric. Things just sort of happened to him. But that's for another chapter.

Finally, after three months of indecision and really bad ideas, the castle had been completed. The students were coming in two days, and Godric still did not have a mascot for Gryffindor House. "That's it," I told him. "You're getting a lion."

"But I don't like lions. They're scary," he complained. "I had a traumatic experience as a child."

"Really? I haven't heard about that one. What happened?" I asked him.

"A long time ago, my father slew a lion and stuffed it for display in our great room. It was always...looking at me with its...eyes. No matter where I went in the room, those eyes followed me. I had nightmares. Oh, and then there was the time that a live lion chased me up a tree."

"Right. Lion it is then."

Slytherin looked up from the book. "I don't see anything wrong with it."

Hermione leveled a very Rowena-like gaze at him. "Godric Gryffindor? Afraid of lions?"

"Well, wouldn't you be? Lions are scary for most people. That's why they make such a great mascot. Very intimidating. In fact, I would've chosen the lion if I weren't a parselmouth."

Hermione rolled her eyes and turned the book to a different section. "How about this then?" she asked, pointing to another marked passage. "This can't be true."

Chapter Twelve: Don't Look, Ethel!

For reasons that I had better not disclose in this book, Godric got it into his head to make a visual representation of his posterior to entice a lady friend. He hiked up his robes, pulled down his trousers, and sat himself upon a tabletop. He then performed an image transference charm of his own invention and successfully copied his bottom's likeness onto the table. He then realized that he'd forgotten to put down the parchment. He signed his name directly on the tabletop and then placed the parchment on top of the image for another transfer. Deciding, as was his way, that more is better, he infused extra power into his spell this time. It ripped a hole through the parchment and the image transferred to the ceiling instead. Unfortunately, he did all this in the Great Hall. Students would be arriving within the week, and there was a giant pair of buttocks staring down at the breakfast tables.

Hoping that we wouldn't notice, Godric said nothing to anyone. Instead, he went off to fetch his lady friend to view the fruit of his labors. While he was gone, Rowena, Helga and I were doing a final walkthrough of the castle, taking note of last minute items that needed tending. Imagine our surprise when we looked up to enjoy the beauty of a clean, new, vaulted ceiling and saw a mole in the shape of Denmark right next to Godric's signature in reverse.

"I'm going to kill that man!" Surprisingly, that was Rowena. She was normally so levelheaded. Helga began to roll up her sleeves and cast her eyes about for a head of red hair. After taking a moment to admire the extremity of his mistake, I attempted to remove the offending image. Nothing worked. Not 'finite incantem', not soap, not any sort of magical or muggle means could eliminate Godric Gryffindor's buttocks from our view.

Hours later, Helga declared it to be "hopeless. We'll have to look at them for the rest of our lives."

Rowena attempted to find a positive view. "Perhaps if we simply keep our gazes downward...or we could...I have no idea."

It was I who suggested that, if we couldn't make the buttocks disappear, perhaps we should make the whole ceiling disappear.

"How will removing the roof solve our problems? The rainy season is upon us!" Rowena argued.

"No, we will simply make the ceiling invisible. That way, everyone will see the beauty of the sky. Everyone will be impressed, and we can claim that we always meant to do that."

I think Helga was on the verge of actually kissing me. A frightening thought. Luckily, Godric arrived just then with his lady friend. "Where are my buttocks?" he cried, as he gazed at our new and improved ceiling renovation. The aforementioned lady friend turned and fled. It was probably for the best.

Still, the image was not entirely obliterated. On clear days, you can sort of see the outline of the left buttock, but people usually assume it's just a cloud.

"I still don't see anything wrong with it," said Slytherin. "That's pretty much how I remember it."

Dumbledore, McGonagall, and various other members of Hogwarts' staff looked on as three ministry officials came through the doors of the Great Hall with ladders. "Monkstanley and Mintumble, set those up over there," ordered Saul Croaker, pointing to the center of the Great Hall. The officials climbed up onto the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables to set up their magically extending ladders.

"What is the meaning of this?" demanded McGonagall. "We're right in the middle of breakfast!"

Croaker turned to address the Deputy Headmistress. "Sorry, Professor, but the Department of Mysteries has received an anonymous donation that hinges upon the confirmation of the veracity of Chapter Twelve in Hogwarts: an unabridged history."

"Chapter Twelve?"

"Specifically, the claim that Godric Gryffindor's buttocks can be seen under the invisibility charm placed on the ceiling of the Great Hall. It's doubtful, but the donation offered is such a large sum that we must give it a try." Croaker turned back to his colleagues. "Wands at the ready! Let's have ourselves a looksee!"

The morning sky began to dissolve into an expanse of grey stone and...pale flesh. Apparently, Gryffindor never got much sun. "Oh my," said Croaker.

"It's an outrage, Albus! Absolutely indecent and unacceptable!" shouted McGonagall, waving a hand at the ceiling. "It's an embarrassment to the entire school!"

"You know," said Madame Pince, "They're actually quite nice. I wouldn't mind gazing up at that every day over a cup of tea."

Professor Sprout seemed to agree. "I give them a nine. Definitely one for the notebook."

"Mmhmm," agreed Madame Hooch.

"Meh," shrugged Madame Pomfrey. "I've seen better."

"Really?" asked Sprout. "Whose?"

"I'm bound by healer/patient confidentiality, but my scale goes up to twelve."

Snape shuddered. "I did not need to hear that."

McGonagall glared everyone back into silence before addressing the Headmaster once more. "How long are they going to leave it like this?"

"Well," he said, "they weren't really expecting to find anything, so they left all of the necessary equipment for documenting it behind. No pun intended." Giggles were heard throughout the hall. "Croaker said it would be roughly one week."

"ONE WEEK?!" shrieked McGonagall.

"Well, no more than two. Three at the most."

McGonagall sighed. "This is all that Sal's fault. I still haven't met him yet. He's never around when I visit the DADA classroom. It's as if he's avoiding me, or something."

"Really? I can't imagine why," muttered Snape.

McGonagall glared at him. "He at least needs to come to meals. It says in the employee handbook that all staff are required to attend at least one meal each day in the Great Hall. Severus, you've had contact with him, haven't you?"

"Briefly," he replied.

"Next time you see him, bring him to the Great Hall. I don't care what it takes. Just make it happen. The man needs to assume more responsibility for his actions."

Harry stood in the castle's main entrance. "Dobby! Please bring me some popcorn. And a chair. I want to be ready for the show."

"Yes, Mister Harry Potter, Sir! Dobby is happy to help!"

"Harry, you really shouldn't use Dobby as your personal house elf like that," admonished Hermione. "And what show are you referring to?"

"Wait for it," said Harry as he accepted Dobby's offering of popped corn and chair.

"Help! Help! I'm being repressed! I'm being repressed!" shouted Professor Slytherin as Professor Snape dragged him by his braid toward the doors to the Great Hall. "Come and see the violence inherent in the system! Come and see the violence inherent in the system!"

"Do shut up, Slytherin," said Snape.

"Twenty points to Gryffindor for enduring tyranny!" Slytherin shouted.

"You can't award points to yourself," Snape whispered harshly in Slytherin's ear.

"Twenty points to all the houses for enduring tyranny!" Slytherin corrected himself. "You won't take me alive! I refuse to conform! I will fight you to my very last breath!"

The scene continued through the doors, down the row of tables, to the DADA professor's seat at the staff table. "No! I won't sit there! It's contaminated! Don't you know where it's been?"

Snape looked pointedly at Slytherin before drawing his wand and performing a very strong cleansing charm on the chair. "There. Good as new. Now sit. Down."

"No! I won't do it! I won't! I won't! I won't! You can't make me!" Slytherin continued to wail in protest. "I'd rather you send me to an orphanage! Or a coal mine! Or Longleat on a Saturday in the height of summer! Or an ostrich farm!"

Snape ignored his colleague's ridiculous shouting and shoved Slytherin into the chair and cast both silencing and sticking charms on him. "You will sit there and behave as a civilized human being. Eat your toast." Snape shoved a piece of toast into Slytherin's still moving but silent mouth. Slytherin glared at him and slumped down in his seat.

Hermione was appalled. "It's the third day he's done this. You'd think he'd give up already."

Ron shook his head. "I don't know. My money is on Professor Slytherin this time. Snape's scary, but Professor Slytherin's got to have learned patience after all these years."

Crispy: Well, there you have it, folks. Cheeky behavior, indeed.

ZA: Heeheeheeheehee!

*But it was too late. She done been mooned.