Something Familiar
Chapter 21: "Prankopolypse Now"
AKA: "Farewell Sanity Points"
Monday, October 30, 11:57 PM
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Monday, October 30, 11:58: PM
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Monday, October 30, 11:59 PM
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Tuesday, October 31, 12:00 AM
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SYSTEM START
RUN PROGRAM:
LOADING PRANK MODULES
LOADED
LOADED
LOADED
LOADED
LOADED
-ERROR! NOT FOUND!
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REMOVING MISSING VARIABLES AND OVERRIDING BROKEN DEPENDENCIES…
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WARNING: EXECUTING INCOMPLETE PROGRAM MAY LEAD TO INSTABILITY, DAMAGED SUBROUTINES AND A COMPLETE CRASH OF HOGWARTS SYSTEMS
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ADMINISTRATIVE OVERRIDE: BYPASSING REDSCREEN ERROR
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PRESS ANY KEY TO CONTINUE
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PROGRAM START
INITIATING SANITY REMOVAL PROTOCOLS
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WOULD YOU LIKE TO PLAY A GAME?
The owlery was nothing of the sort.
It was, at the moment, a large empty room that was nearly devoid of life. In its lofty nooks and rafters there was not a single bird to be found. A few feathers drifted to the floor, evidence of the avians' hasty evacuation. The room's sole living occupant, a small figure in a cloak, watched as the last courrier vanished into the night. They smiled as it disappeared into the darkness.
Directive 2: Deliver package to designated recipient
Recipient Location: Rvn-Flr02-Bed07
Recipient ID: J94HE04I2GHBSS21
Recipient Designation:
Requested Delivery Time: 12:15.00 AM
Estimated Delivery Time: 12:14.31 AM
The owl banked slowly around the castle, cutting a broad curve through the air as it glided towards Ravenclaw Tower. Its programming told it it was satisfied. Its flock had completed a difficult task, one just barely within their capabilities. Delivering the small packages to every student in the school in the requested time had been nearly impossible. Five hundred and seventy-two deliveries in fifteen minutes was pushing it, even given the short distance.
But with its eighth and final delivery, the task was complete.
The owl was instructed to feel proud for its accomplishment.
The owl was proud of its accomplishment.
It fluttered its wings once, easily drifting through an open window. There was always at least one open for just that purpose. The darkness meant nothing to the owl as it landed. The large, cubic package made a soft clunking sound as it hit the sleeping Ravenclaw's trunk. Per customer request, it released its burden and left without waiting for a confirmation of receipt.
Tuesday, October 31, 12:15 AM
The brown paper surrounding the package fell away of its own accord, revealing a simple wooden box. The front face of it was left partially open, revealing a complex arrangement of gears.
The box produced a faint, metallic click. The quiet sound was echoed four times over, coming from various points around the room. There was another chorus of clicks, louder than the last, followed quickly by third. By the tenth repetition, they were more than loud enough to disturb the sleeping students.
Cho stirred, groaning as she pulled herself into a sitting position. Her thoughts were hazy, chugging along at a snail's pace as her brain tried handle her body's repeated demands for answers. Why the hell were they waking up at whatever the hell time it was?
The answer to that question came in the form a another loud click, drawing Cho's attention to the strange box sitting beside her bed. Even as she stared at it it produced a thirteenth click, then fell silent. The moment this happened, the gears on the front of the box shivered. A strange feeling of dread filled her as they slowly began to turn.
The feeling only got stronger when the mystery box began to produce a series of raspy notes.
All around the mulberry bush,
the monkey chased the weasel.
The monkey thought 'twas all in good fun,
POP goes the weasel.
Cho flinched back reflexively as the top of the box snapped open, shielding her face and preparing for the worst. Fortunately, her efforts were completely unnecessary. A small, fluffy bunny exploded out of the the container, bobbing back and forth on a large spring.
It held a sign that said, "Happy Halloween."
"What in the world…?" Cho muttered, gingerly reaching out and taking hold of the plush animal. There was a faint pop as it was separated from the spring. "Hey, they come off."
"Is this some kind of joke?" Mary asked from the next bed over. "And why did I get a lamb? I hate lambs."
"They're really cute."
"Yeah, well, it would've been nice if whoever did this waited for breakfast," Cho complained. She held the stuffed animal up and inspected it carefully. "It is pretty cute, though. I think I might-"
The bunny's face split open, blooming like a six-petaled flower. The inside of it was made of a pink, meaty fabric. Little button teeth lined each part of what was formerly its face. The bunny unleashed a high-velocity blob of viscous goo, nailing her straight in the mouth. A moment later a thick, velvet tongue lolled out and traced a line up her cheek.
Cho did the completely rational thing. She screamed.
The bunny screamed back, producing a soul-rending howl. The maw gaped open wider as the creature lunged forward, plunging Cho's face into the embrace of its twelve button-lined lips.
Screams erupted all around the castle as every single student was simultaneously assaulted by a stuffed animal.
"I hate you so much right now."
"Oh, what's wrong Fred? I made that sheep just for you. Didn't you like it?" Hermione asked with a faux hurt look on her face. "Sometimes I think you just don't appreciate the things I do for you…"
"That slime crap got in my ear. Do you have any idea how long it takes to get slime out of your ear? I ended up having to summon the crap. My ears are still ringing."
"And Angel's not very happy with you either," Harry warned. "She took a really big bite out of that puppy before she realized it was fake. And now that I say it out loud, I'm realizing how disturbing that is."
"So I'll have Headwig bring her a dead rat or something. What I want to know is why you look so unimpressed," Hermione grumbled, fixing King with an accusing glare.
George nodded. He quickly reached up and straightened his hat as the motion nearly spilled it off his head. "Yeah. I hate to aid the enemy here, but charming all those boxes and animals must of been a major pain."
"The beasts were animated with a Charm Mirror Mirroring Mirror Charm," King began.
"A what?"
"It projects weak, unstable copies of the charms placed on a base object upon a number of similar objects. The effect is geographically limited and the results unreliable, so it is typically of little use. And yes, it is actually called that. It is most likely intended to be a humorous play on the idea of a mirror, paralleling its ability to reflect-"
"I'm pretty sure we all get it, King. Everyone but one, at least," George groaned. "Merlin, sometimes I hate wizards…"
Fred grinned at him and helpfully pointed out, "We are wizards, brother," while waving a fork with a boiled egg on it in front of his face.
George twitched, reflexively reaching for the chicken embryo before hauling himself up short. Harry had shifted very unsubtly in a way that suggested the words, "ast, ut nihil" were on the tip of his tongue. Experience and several dozen lost layers of skin had taught George the younger boy was deadly serious.
The redhead slowly relaxed back into his seat, wiping a strand of doll from the corner of his mouth. "Well, I hate you all the time, George. When you average it out, it means I hate all of us some of time," he reasoned, giving his brother a death glare.
"Hey! What'd you call me? I told you not to call-"
Screams erupted from the Hufflepuff tables as Fred shot across the aisle and slammed into several students from behind, bringing them down in a pile of flailing limbs and collapsing furniture.
The egg fell and hit the table, bounced once and spontaneously became a ball of charred embers. The right cuff of George's robe became a whiff of ash as he yanked his hand back. Frantically beating the sparks off what remained of his sleeve, he glared at Harry. The first-year was making a very valiant attempt to look innocent despite the strip of charred table between them.
"I wasn't going to!" he protested.
Hermione immediately brought her wand around on him. "Unless you want to find out if you're a better anti-Puff weapon weapon than your brother, be quiet!"
George immediately snapped into a perfect sitting posture and squeaked, "Yes ma'am." He was so focused on her that he barely seemed to notice the trail of burning threads making its way up his arm.
"Good. Now, what were you saying, King?" Hermione asked sweetly, lowering her wand.
Harry scooted his chair a little further away from hers.
"Well, that particular meta-charm is quite simple in execution and limited in utility. Furthermore, the boxes themselves were made with a simple Copy Me Spell, an easy and mostly pointless transfiguration. There is little call for inferior, mass-produced goods in our society. If only the same could be said of the muggle world," King sighed. "And evil stuffed animals are hardly creative. I will admit, however, I would have scored you lower had they been dolls."
"But… but… You showed me those spells!" Hermione protested.
King nodded. "Indeed I did. They were the most efficient way to accomplish your stated goals."
"Why would you teach me spells you wouldn't give me a good score for!?"
The human disaster gave her an affronted look. "Why, I could hardly tell you something like that, could I? A judge should be neutral, and giving you such an advantage would not be sporting at all. I afforded you all the same support: I answered any question you put forth to me regarding your preparations to the best of my ability."
There was a faint giggling as Fred's chair scraped back. "Yeah, when King takes something seriously, he goes the whole sixty-nine yards," the furniture's owner declared from beneath the table. He slowly climbed back into the seat. About halfway up he paused to stared downward. The piece of french toast hanging from his mouth made him a bit hard to understand as he asked, "Hey, is this the same chair? Again? How many goddamned times have I been sent flying outta this thing?"
"Thirteen," Hermione and King responded together.
"That's weird. Why's there thirty-seven tally marks here, then?"
"You were pretty messed-up when you added the last one. On the upside, we discovered that your average wizard can't handle four Anti-Concussion Potions in an hour," Hermione informed him.
"Oh. And the house?"
"It's a penguin," Harry corrected.
Fred frowned at him. "Harrysack, I dunno what you've been smoking but this is definitely a house."
"You said it was a penguin."
"Fine. Penguin. Why's there a house-penguin on my death-chair?"
"You said it would remind you not to sit in Baron von Facecrusher, Chaivr of Dvoom. Your favke accent really suvcks, by the way," Hermione replied.
"And I'm guessing that's…"
Harry nodded. "Yeah… It's where you are. But at least it worked better than it did last time!"
"Yeah, that poor Hufflpuff. I'd be traumatized for life if you just walked up and drew a circle on my neck," Hermione added.
"I am quite certain it was a lizard, rather than a circle," King disagreed. "Quite a nice one, at that. I had no idea Red had such artistic talent."
"Yeah, but he said it was a circle," Hermione stated with a shrug.
"Uh… some 'Puff just sat there and let me draw a lizard-circle on their neck? Who the hell does that?"
George gave his brother a slight - and slightly evil - smile and said, "Well, to be fair, Aila did look like she was in a bit of shock."
The statement was met with Fred's wide-eyed stare. "I… walked up and drew a circle-lizard on Aila's neck…?"
"Yup. Right over the collarbone. She just kind of froze up, and no one else had any idea what to do. You'd think they'd never seen someone get molested with a quill before."
"There's something wrong with you. You shouldn't be allowed anywhere near a quill," Hermione muttered. "I've told Harry it most certainly isn't normal, and that he's to set you on fire the next time you try to draw on his toes."
"But Mio, Lord Thumb was plotting rebellion!" Harry protested, holding up his hand. There was a small and rather detailed face drawn on the pad of the thumb. "I just couldn't knuckle down and deal with it myself. Only Commander P. Toe could prevent the nail-farious plans that were afoot. I don't know what would have happened if Fred hadn't aided me."
"You mean, 'If he hadn't given me a hand,' right?" Hermione sighed.
Harry frowned at her and gave her an upset look. "Mio, that was terrible. You should be disappointed with yourself for stooping so low…"
"Don't make me hurt you. I'm relatively certain only one of us will enjoy it."
"Look, my brother's bizarre quill fetish isn't important right now. We need to focus on the important issues here," George declared. "Namely: where the hell did he get french toast!?"
"George, could you please try to focus for two- Hey! That is french toast!" Hermione exclaimed. "We don't have french toast! Where did you get that?"
Fred pulled the offending breakfast food from his mouth and dropped it on the plate. "Uh… I jacked it from some 'Puff. They've got a ton of it," he answered quietly.
"But… we don't have french toast. We never have french toast," Harry whined. "I thought there wasn't any such thing as wizard french toast!"
"That doesn't seem fair at all…" Hermione said with a scowl.
George nodded in agreement and leapt up onto his chair. "This shall not stand!" he roared. "Harry, we're executing plan 27-C!"
Giving him a puzzled look, Harry protested, "George, we don't have a pogo stick and I don't really wanna spend the rest of the day in sticky robes…"
"No, Harry, plan 27-C! 27-C!"
A look of understanding crossed over Harry's face. "Oh! 27-C! Okay. But we have to- Look, a distraction!" Harry suddenly shouted, pointing across the hall.
Hermione, King and Fred all reflexively turned to look. By the time they had turned back, Harry and George were gone.
"So, is anyone else really, really ashamed of themselves right now?" Hermione inquired.
King and Neville both nodded.
"I'd say I can't help but feel like this is a bad thing, but it seems redundant considering I'm starting to feel like that about literally everything that happens around here," Hermione sighed.
King frowned, idly tapping a finger against the table. Each impact sound like someone had swung a bat into it and left a very visible dent. "You realize you could return to the muggle world if you so wished. You have only missed two months of education, and I have no doubt you would have no trouble catching up. In fact, I would be surprised if you were not still ahead, despite your lack of formal tutelage."
There was a prolonged period of silence as Hermione considered that option. Finally she sighed and softly asked. "But… who'd braid my hair? If I didn't have Harry and Neville, there'd be no one to do it. It'd be all messy again."
"Well then, I do suppose you are left without choice. For the sake of your hair. Assuming that you feel it is worth the trouble, of course."
"I'm pretty sure I'd rather listen to Harry scream at a shrub than go back to having no… to having messy hair," she declared, tugging at the short braid hanging over her shoulder. "I kind of like having people to fix it, even if they are a little odd. On a related note, is there a particular reason you're trying to murder your pancakes, Fred?"
Fred started, staring up at her in surprise. "What? I'm not trying murder-" Fred raised his hand, his eyes widening in shock as the pancakes, plate and all, came up with his knife. The stack of sticky breakfast foods slowly slid down the utensil, dribbling syrup all over his hand. "Oh."
"Those plates are made of metal, Fred, and you just put a hole in it with a butter knife," Hermione said as she observed the chunks of pastry running down his arm. "I think I'm well on my way to developing a fear of butter knives. If you look like you're about to throw that at an owl, I'm getting out of the Great Hall as fast as King can throw me."
"I am not sure how much I appreciate being used as a means of conveyance…"
"Then you shouldn't be so good at it, King… And I'm not gonna nightmare any owls with this, don't worry. I'm just feeling a little off, that's all," Fred sighed. He made a broad, dismissive gesture. As he did so, the knife decided to free its captive from its steely (silvery?) grasp. The heavy pewter dish went flying across the hall, its flight eventually terminating in a heavy clunk.
"My face!"
"Oh my god, Cho!"
"Damn. Someone must really have it out for that chick. How come like, every other thing we do hurts her?"
"That's not true at all. Some of it just humiliates her," Hermione disagreed. "Although last week, when she got hit with more the clothes acid stuff and slipped down the stairs on it, kind of did both."
"We really need to keep the… uh… we should name that crap."
"Anti-Garment Gel,' Hermione immediately suggested.
"...have you been waiting for someone to suggest we name it?"
"...no."
Fred sighed. "Right. We should keep the Anti-Garment Gel away from Kitten, since she's on strict kill-on-sight and can somehow detect it a sealed, opaque container. Or, barring that, at least make sure there's someone with a little more… uh… something that isn't little around."
"Okay, now I'm worried. You just said something totally perverted and made it sound not the least bit perverted. What's wrong with you, Fred?"
The Weasley slumped slightly. "I just, uh, feel kind of bad…"
King and Hermione stared at him like he'd just grown a fifth head with green skin and three eyes, and was currently using it to recite Shakespeare backwards in a language that had never existed in the mortal realm.
"What? I can feel bad about things!" he snapped defensively. "I just choose not to. A lot. All the time, really, but I can still do it when I feel like it!"
"Okay, so why in the world do you want to feel bad about this?"
"I don't! I just do!" Fred whined. "I can't help it. Aila… I can't believe I did something like that to her."
"Wow. I was kind of under the impression that you didn't like anyone but your brother and us," Hermione state, sounding impressed. "There's seriously someone other than us that you won't gleefully do horrible things to?"
"Uh, Mio? He turned your hair into snakes the other day," Harry pointed out.
"It wasn't anything more than a little friendly rough housing. I nearly threw him out the Common Room window with a Shoving Spell, so I'd say we're square."
"Nearly? I would've gone right out if I hadn't caught the sill! That's not 'nearly' at all!" Fred muttered.
Hermione nodded happily. "You see? Your hand was still in the tower. I didn't throw all of you out, so it doesn't count. I'd be happy to try again if you don't stop pouting. You're a little bigger than an owl, though, so I don't think you've got much of a chance."
"I'm not pouting," Fred pouted. "I just… kind of feel like an ass. Aila… she's like Harry, but it's magic transport stuff that flips her out. She won't open her eyes the whole time she's on the Express. In the beginning of our first year I found her in the back cars with the big familiars. She was lost and freaking out because a Siberian Tiger was trying to pick her up and push her out the door."
"I can see that being disturbing."
"Yeah. So I brought her back up with us and King. I guess she doesn't have a lot of friends because she's kind of weird, but she's a sweet girl. She doesn't need any more crap, and I freak her out to begin with."
Hermione frowned and inquired, "What do you mean?"
"She was really nice with us on the train, but now she won't even talk to me. She just kind of muttered something and gets the hell out of Dodge whenever I try."
Hermione studied him, a thoughtful look on her face. "When she muttered, is she looking at you or the ground?"
"The ground, usually. Why?"
"No particular reason," Hermione replied with a smile. "I guess it takes all kinds, right? I wouldn't worry about her hating you."
"Indeed. Just the other day I heard some of her housemates speaking of how she has been careful not to wash-" King's sentence was suddenly terminated as a serving platter slammed into his face at high speed.
Lowering her wand again, Hermione glared at him. "People should figure things out by themselves, King."
"Duly noted," King replied as he peeled the plate off his face. There was a very recognizable him-shaped impression left in it. He studied it critically. "You know, I think that is rather artistic. Something of an untraditional caricature."
"Wow. And people say I'm fu- Uh, King? Flip the table."
Without hesitation, King stood and literally sank his fingers into the hardwood tabletop. A mighty heave hauled it into the air, allowing him to spin it around. The table hit the floor with a tremendous crash as it was slammed down between them and Hufflepuff. Both wizards immediately vaulted it and crouched down behind it.
Hermione calmly caught her plate as it fall through the air. Sliding out of her seat to take a position next to the boys, she asked, "Do I want to know?" through a mouthful of bacon.
As if in answer to her question, a shadow passed over them. She just barely caught a glimpse of a large projectile as it sailed overhead. It shot by at ballistic velocities and slammed into the Slytherin tables. Sticky red fluid splattered in every direction as a dozen students were scattered to the winds. 'Puff and snake alike hit the floor, their bodies covered in crimson.
On the Hufflepuff side of the table, a young witch stared at the crimson strands falling from her hands in shock. She looked down at the girl crumpled at her feet. The fallen student's chest was a mess of red. Throwing her head back, the witch screamed, "Cho~~~!"
"What was she even doing there? Ravenclaw's on the other side of us…" Hermione asked. She wiped a gob of red off her cheek and smeared it across her toast. Taking a bite, she immediately turned her head to the side and spat it out. "Ugh. Cherry does not go good with pumpkin spice. Why does everything have to be pumpkin spice this time of year?"
Fred sighed. "Cho's cousin is a 'Puff. Aila, actually. Please don't tell me Aila got hit…"
"Wow. She probably should have been standing on this side of the table. Is Aila the one that looks like she dipped her hair in ink?"
"Yeah…"
"Well, she didn't exactly get hti hit… Is her hair really that color?"
"Yeah."
"You're sure? Because that's a weird color," Hermione said with a frown. "Fred, please don't tell me you peeked on her while she was changing or something…"
"It was an accident."
"How do you perv on someone on accident?"
"King put me through a wall."
"Oh, that sounds reasonable, then."
A loud voice, very familiar but distorted enough to be unrecognizable, roared, "Damn it, First Mate Shaved Scrotum! I said Hufflepuff! Hufflepuff, damn you! Can't you tell the difference between a 'Puff and a poof!?"
Munching on her toast, Hermione turned around. There, up in one of the windows, was something that very strongly resembled a cannon. Someone who clearly wasn't George was standing atop it, dressed to the nines in flamboyant pirate garb. We're talking open, poofy shirt and everything.
A smaller wizard was crouched on the sill next to him, staring at the carnage. He was dressed in a much less flamboyant trouser and vest combo. Despite the fact that all he wore on his head was a bandanna, something made his face fuzzy enough to tell the whole hall he definitely wasn't Harry Potter.
"I'm sorry captain! It's the cannon, sir. The bore, she's all off," Scrotum apologized.
Not-George stomped and tossed his clearly fake hair in irritation. "I transfigured this cannon myself, Scrotum! I ougtta make you walk the plan for- Hey! Are those crepes!? Do they have crepes?"
"They look like crepes to me, sir," Scrotum confirmed. "Avast, thar be the golden treasure of the Hogwarts sea!"
"Scrotum!"
"Aye sir!"
The cannon swiveled and angled to point directly at the Slytherins.
"You'll be handing over that treasure, ye scurvy dogs!" Scrotum declared. "In the name of Captain Long Schlong Silver, drop your utensils and prepare to be boarded!"
"You!" a voice roared. "How dare you!? You dare do that to my students!?"
Scrotum and Long Schlong turned to stare at the staff table, examining Snape as he stood.
"Scrotum. Do ye be seein' what I be seein'?"
Scrotum nodded. "Aye captain. That be the Greasy Whale of Cauldron Scum Sea. He be a monster with nary to match, sir," he whispered.
"Today be the day the world knows our names, Scrotum. Today be the day."
Snape raised his wand in a menacing fashion. "You little bastards get down here right now, or I'll bring you down my-"
"Artillery crew!" Long Schlong roared.
"Artillery crew!" Scrotum immediately echoed.
There was a series of clunks and ominous scrapes. Hauled up on creaking ropes, cannons filled every window. Atop each massive gun stood a diminutive, floppy-eared creature.
Hermione gave them a considering look. "Wow. Bet they wish they hadn't made those windows bigger, huh? I'm pretty sure this is worse than losing a few owls…"
"Load gra~pe shot~!" Scrotum yelled.
The small figures raised their arms, prompting massive blobs of purple goo to appear. The blobs quickly vanished down the cannons' barrels.
"Ta~ke a~im!"
Snape paled as eleven canons locked onto the staff table, centered on him.
"You wouldn't dare…"
"Minerva, please deal with this," Dumbledore sighed. He waited a moment, then frowned when no response came. Turning, he stared at the empty seat next to him in confusion. "Minerva?"
Long Schlong grinned. "Never challenge a pirate, ye filthy landlubber. Scrotum, silence the foul wretch."
"Aye captain! Fire!"
The first volley devastated the staff table as all eleven canons unloaded blobs of high-velocity grape jam. It was hard to say whether it was from sheer shock or simple inability to evade, but the entire staff was sent reeling by the sudden assault. From there the cannons fired in sequence, one or two firing
in turn while the artillery crew reloaded the rest.
Captain Long Schlong Silver stood atop the center cannon the entire time, laughing like a madman as he rearmed the cannons. Scrotum remained crouched by his side with a look of extreme concentration on his face. Occasionally he'd twitch his fingers or grit his teeth as a cannon made a particularly sudden movement. Every now and then Long Schlong would call a shot, prompting his first mate to bring around one, two or even three cannons on the unfortunate professor who'd started to raise their wand. Because of this, their assault went on completely uninterrupted.
It seemed even the 'greatest wizard in England' had a hard time casting while being pelted with five-kilogram blobs of jam.
Go figure.
McGonagall, seated at the end of her house's tables, watched the devastation her students unleashed with a faintly amused smile on her face. To be honest, she was fairly impressed. Considering their level of education, the transfiguration and spellwork that went into the cannons was laudable. George - Sorry, Long Schlong - was replacing the Acceleration Charms as fast as the elves could ram ammo down the barrels. Scrotum, for his part, was showing a truly remarkable ability to control all eleven guns at once. This went doubly so considering how adept he was at cornering, cutting off and staggering the assaulted staff. Any attempt at retaliation was ended almost as soon as Long Schlong called out a target.
It had taken his son all of two months to further than James would have ever dared to go. Minerva wasn't sure whether her old student would be proud or jealous.
She was slightly amused to note that it took thirteen minutes for the pirates to exhaust every bit of jelly, jam, marmalade, gelatin, whipped cream, whipped butter, syrup, meringue, pudding in the castle, along with a single, very large coconut. She was very amused to note that that last one had probably brought an end to the Snape line.
She'd have to find a way to subtly reward them for that.
With a scream of, "And let that be a lesson to ya, ye filthy landlubbers!" the pirates and cannons hastily dropped down and vanished from the windows.
McGonagall let out a giggle that was quite unsuited to her age. Looking down at the note she'd found in her seat, she smile again and muttered, "Smart boys…"
This is a really bad place to sit.
Hermione peeked at the remains of the staff table over their makeshift barrier. The Great Hall was an absolute ruin. There wasn't a square millimeter that hadn't been covered with something sticky. That entire end of the hall was a wild swirl of conflicting colors. Staff Members were buried under piles of jam and plastered to the wall, and some had actually been blasted up to the Grand Staircase's landing. A few were still standing, caked in filthy, but…
"Why aren't they moving?"
King frowned as he examined them. "Oh dear. I do believe they put hardening charms on their ammunition. That is rather unfortunate for their hapless targets, isn't it? I certainly hope they have a way to break out, as such charms can last awhile. It is somewhat hard to use a wand while frozen, though…"
"So it's like that magic shell crap you put on ice cream?" Fred asked, earning an agreeable nod.
Hermione shot him a suspicious look, but turned back to glare at the unmoving adults, Hermione asked, "Are you saying they just brought down every adult wizard in the school with a bunch of jam?"
"They missed the gaffer," Fred pointed out. "Probably a good choice, that. There's a lot of witches I'd like to see covered in whipped cream, but she definitely isn't one of them. Plus, she'd probably murder the hell out of us all."
"So… what I'm getting out of this is that jam is basically wizarding Kryptonite. I swear, my life gets weirder every day," Hermione sighed. She jumped slightly as a large platter slammed down on the table in front of her.
"Well, it is kind of fun, though," George said from behind her. He gestured towards the plate with a flourish. "Plus, you get crepes!"
Another platter touched down next to the first. "And french toast!" Harry added.
"We got some Spam, too. Don't blame me. Blame the Ravenclaws. Seriously, Spam?" George muttered, tossing the offending plate onto the table.
"If you are not overly fond of Spam, why on Earth did you bother to take it, Red?"
Together, Harry and George replied, "It was there."
"You guys were up on the cannons the whole time. When did you even take this?" Hermione asked as she munched on a crepe. "Thanks for saving some whipped cream, by the way."
"Crepes without whipped cream?" Harry gasped. "Do you think we're savages, Mio? Is that what you think?"
"Yes."
"Yeah, you're probably right," George agreed. "We actually jacked all that crap before we even changed clothes." He tugged at his perfectly clean robes. "The rest was just for show."
"It was a good show," Hermione grudgingly admitted. "How in the world did you control all those cannons at once, Harry?"
Harry held up his hands and wiggled his fingers. "With my fingers."
"Yeah, we got the idea from how Kitten and Flower aimed the catapult."
"But… you had eleven cannons."
Harry nodded happily. "But I used all my fingers."
Fixing him with a disbelieving stare, Hermione grumbled, "Harry, I don't know whether I should hit you, hit Fred, hit you both, or hit Fred."
"...why am I on there twice?"
"Oh, come one, Mio. It's not like I had a puppet on it."
Hermione twitched and began to turn towards the nearest twin.
"Harry, subtly change the subject," Fred squeaked.
"Can you put the table back, King? I don't like how the crepes are balanced on the edge. They might fall, and I want to see how much I can eat before I rainbow. Then I want to see if I can eat more," Harry declared.
"One: don't eat until you rainbow. Two: of course you'll be able to eat more. Three: don't rainbow just so you can eat more. Four: I'm not lending you my mouthwash," Hermione rattled off. "And five: someone covered the top of the table in sticky stuff."
George huffed, "Well, that wouldn't have happened if you hadn't decided to use it as a shield."
Looking up and down the Great Hall, Hermione couldn't help but giggle. About 90% of it had been completely massacred. "No, I think it probably would have. Seriously, guys? Ravenclaw?"
"Scrote was so into it that he was just firing whenever I yelled a name. I wanted to see if he'd do it anyone I called out, or just the staff," George explained with a shrug. "After the first one, I just kept doing it because it was funny."
"I do not believe it is appropriate to refer to Harry as such, Red…"
"No, it's okay."
Hermione sighed, "Harry, do you even know what a scrotum is?"
"It's me. It's hairy."
Fred giggled. "Good for you, Harry. You're ahead of the curve."
Groaning, Hermione buried her face in her hands. "I'm pretty sure this is why people turn into serial killers."
"Probably. Can I have a crepe?"
` "No!" Harry and Hermione shouted together, pulling the platter back protectively. Two wands were immediately leveled at him. There was a small point of light already gathering on one…
"Whoa, chill! You can keep them! No need to verify me!"
"Our crepes," Harry hissed, but he still turned his wand aside and released the incineration spell.
"Oh my god! Cho's on fire!"
Fred sighed, "For the love of Merlin, please tell me you missed Aila…"
Peeking over the table, Harry asked, "Is she the one with the really black hair? The real really black hair?"
"Yeah, she…" Fred trailed off and gave Harry a suspicious look. "How do you know it's real?"
"Uh, well… I did miss her. Technically. I didn't burn her at all…"
Hermione turned and pulled herself up to peek over the table again. "Wow. It really is that black. I'm kind of jealous."
"Of, for Merlin's-"
"Hey, uh, random question. Is wizard-jam flammable?" Hermione suddenly asked.
George frowned. "Only the orange marmalade. Why?"
"No particular reason. On a completely unrelated note, we should probably be somewhere that isn't the Great Hall right now."
"Oh. Scrote, grab the crepes. It's a nice day to have breakfast under the sun, I'm thinking.
"I- I just don't understand why these things are happening… Is someone out to get me? Did I do something wrong?" Cho whimpered. "Am I being punished for something?"
Aila look over at her cousin with a frown. The older girl had definitely had a rough year so far. It was almost like some all-powerful, otherworldly force was driving the events happening around them, forcing Cho into awful situations for its own amusement. The thought, of course, was immediately dismissed for the foolishness it was. Even assuming there was some sort of Creator, surely they wouldn't be so crass as to abuse an innocent girl because it made them giggle.
"It's not so bad, cous. It's just a little jelly," Aila attempted to comfort her.
"And whipped cream, and jam, and marmalade, and whatever the hell else that was," Cho sniffled. "And that's not even all! I've been hit in the eye, had owl splashed on me and keep ending up naked somehow!"
Aila tilted her head and gave he cousin a confused look. "Mm… what's wrong with being naked? You're naked with me a lot!"
"That's because you drag me to that old classroom you transfigured and force me to bathe with you."
"It's hard to wash my back, and the bath's re~ally big. It's more fun with you."
Cho sighed. "Someday someone's going to walk in on us and really get the wrong idea, you know. The last thing I need is for everyone in the school to think we're 'kissing cousins.'"
"But we do kiss."
"On the cheek, Aila. Or the forehead. That's not the kind of thing I'm talking about," Cho snapped. "I meant on the lips or… other… places."
Aila placed a finger to her lips and thought for a moment. "You mean… like the neck? I've kissed you on the neck before."
"You bit me on the neck. In your sleep."
"Well, you shouldn't wear perfume to bed. Especially if it smells like apple pie," Aila huffed. "You've no one to blame but yourself."
"I wasn't even in the same room, Ai. And maybe you don't mind being naked in front of everyone," Cho muttered, running her eyes up her cousin's robed form, "but I certainly do."
"Why?"
"Because life isn't fair, that's why. I don't know what you eat, but- Eek!"
Aila gave her cousin, who had suddenly stopped short, a curious look. "Buteek? Is that a bad thing?"
"No, Ai! Something just yanked my.. thong!"
Aila tilted her head again. "I thought you didn't like thongs. Why would you wear them?"
"I don't!" Cho growled as she hopped around with one hand down the back of her skirt in a very unladylike fashion. "At least I wasn't until something yanked my panties straight up my- Gah! There we go."
Frowning, Alia declared, "That doesn't sound very nice at all. I hope you wipe good, cousin. You should always wipe good."
"I'm not even going to dignify that with an- Eek! Damn it!"
"Again?"
Cho scowled and stomped on a flagstone, carefully not actually passing over it. "Here! Right here! Someone did something!"
Alia looked a the stone curiously, then briskly walked over it. "Cousin, it's not doing it. It's not doing anything at all.
Frowning, Cho examined the stone. She was pretty sure it was the culprit, but… now she had to know. With a sigh, she stepped across the stone and immediately squealed and grabbed her rear.
"Are you alright?"
Cho paused, examining Aila's waist suspiciously. "Aila, are you walking around without underwear?"
"Yes I am. It feels very strange."
"Why are you walking around without underwear, Aila?" Cho sighed.
"Oh~, that's because I ran out. Yours kept going 'poof.' I gave you my last pair yesterday," Aila happily declared.
Cho stared at her. "Aila, what the hell are you thinking? You can't just give me all your underwear and walk around without any."
"Oh. Well, it's okay if I didn't give you all my underwear, right? I didn't give you any of my bras. I would have but I don't think they'd fit, so it seems like a silly thing to do."
Cho twitched. She turned away from her cousin and immediately started walking so the other girl wouldn't see the annoyed look on her face. It always made her all pouty, which made Cho hug her and apologize, which resulted in Cho being stuck in place until Aila was done using her as a cuddle toy.
Sometimes Cho really wondered if Aila actually was interested in the 'kissing cousins' thing, but she was relatively certain she wasn't even on the side of the equation Aila was interested in. There were no words that could describe how happy she was about that. Lord knows Aila's over-affectionate nature caused enough rumors about them to circulate as it was.
"Aila, sometimes I swear you-" Cho suddenly cut off in a full-blown shriek. The others had been little more than squeaks compared to this one. She dropped to her knees, slapping her hands over her crotch.
"Oh dear. Another thong?" Aila asked.
"No," Cho gasped. "Wrong side."
"You know, I think I might just stop wearing panties. They don't seem to be doing you much good…"
Cho nodded. "Ai? Would it be weird if I asked you to help me take off my panties in the middle of the hall?"
"Not at all. Hold your robes up."
"I meant I wanted you to keep watch, Ai," Cho sighed. "Keep. Watch."
"A hundred?" George demanded. "A hundred melvin traps? Nev barely managed forty wedgie matrices! You've gotta be freaking kidding!"
"Nope. Even hundred. There's twenty-one just on the Grand Staircase. Anyone that wants to send an owl is gonna have a real bad day," Fred said proudly.
"You cheated," Hermione accused. "You must have cheated. The rules say we couldn't actually deploy anything until midnight. You're okay at charms, but you're not good enough to lay down a hundred of those in six hours."
"You cut me to the bone, Mio. You hurt me right here," Fred said, wiping an invisible tear from his cheek and patting his crotch.
George sighed, "Man up, brother. She hasn't sacked you in at least three days."
"Huh. I know I felt weird this morning… anyway, I didn't cast them all last night. I made a mixture of water, heavily diluted Sticking Solution and a little chalk. I bottled the crap, put the charms on them and the put preservation charms on the bottle so the didn't decay. Open the phial, pour the mixture and let it dry. Boom, fourteen hours of pain."
The others were speechless as they subjected him to their shocked gazes.
"Oh, come on! It wasn't that impressive!" Hermione protested. Something about the way she said it made it clear she wasn't quite convinced herself.
"You know the rules," George sighed. "King's judge, jury and executioner. What he say goes."
Hermione scowled at him. "You're just saying that because he gave you points for a fire you didn't mean to start. That was so unfair. You two shouldn't be in the lead at all!"
"Details, details," George waved the complaint off. "You alway get so caught up in the details, especially when you're right."
Fred grinned as he took a bite out of his roast beef sandwich. He froze for a second, frowned and examined the sandwich more carefully. "Harry, why is my roast beef sandwich a BLT?"
"You need more green things. You should have some variety. It's good for you."
"Fair enough," Fred said with a shrug, taking another bite out of his lunch. "Where the hell'd you get the bacon, anyway?"
"Oh, it was from breakfast."
"Huh. I didn't know you had a Preservation Pouch."
Harry held up a bit of bacon and studied it. "I don't. It's been in King's pocket."
"All morning, huh? I thought it was a little saltier than normal," Fred said, taking another bite. "You need lighter robes, your highness. Sweating so much can't be good for you."
Hermione made a disgusted face. "Ew."
"Aw, it's just a little sweat-covered, probably spoiled bacon. I've already had worse half a dozen times this year. A little food poisoning is pretty minor compared to some of the stuff that happens around here."
"It really makes me wonder about my life when I hear a statement like that and agree with it," Hermione grumbled.
"And about the points: don't worry. You're not gonna be anywhere near me after lunch, anyway," Fred stated with a smug smile. "Not after what I've got Kitten and Bubbles doing for me. I'm about to… wash you away." He waved his wand in the air, producing a sudden sound.
/ - Go Here - Click Button.
Hermione sighed. "What did we say about providing yourself with rimshots, Fred? You just ruined your three day streak," she said sadly as she got up and started walking around the table.
Fred started to get up, only to be slammed back into his chair by the hand suddenly holding his shoulder.
"This is an intervention, brother. I'm doing this because I love you, not because I find a little witch bag-tagging you hilarious," George said with a happy grin. "Which I do, by the way."
"Uh, Fred? Before Mio subjects you to crippling pain, could you answer a question?" Harry asked weakly. He was giving the other boy a frightened look, pale-faced and shaking slightly.
The rest of the table turned to give him confused looks, Hermione going so far as to halt in her menacing approach.
"Uh, sure. What's up, Scrote?"
"We are not calling him that," Hermione muttered.
Still quite clearly worried, Harry started tapping his fork against the table in an agitated fashion. "This… uh, thing. This thing, it's happening soon?"
Fred grinned. "Right in the middle of lunch, Scrote."
Hermione glared at him and whispered, "You just earned another one."
"...and it involves water?"
Rolling his eyes, Fred replied, "No, Sc- Harry. I've got a water elemental helping me out with some sand. Of course it involves water."
"Like, a lot? Enough to get down here and get us wet?"
"Uh, yeah. Harry, what's up?"
"Nothing!" Harry squeaked. "But when you disappear, I'll lie and say you were a great guy!"
The statement earned him another round of confused looks.
"Harry… Why would Fred disappear?" George asked slowly.
The younger boy gave him a faux shocked look. "Who said anything about disposing of the evidence!? I didn't say anything about disposing of the evidence! You can't prove anything!" he squealed.
George stared at the boy. "Harrysack, you're acting weird. Weirder. You're acting weirder than you usually act. For you guys, that's kind of an accomplishment. What the hell did you do?"
"Uh, what time is it?"
George looked at his arm. "12:58, 12:54, 1:02, 8:15, and 12:57. Son of a bitch…"
"You'll see in two, six, negative two, four hundred and thirty-five and three minutes," Harry muttered.
The Great Hall's doors slammed open. They didn't smoothly open on their own, they rocketed around on their hinges at a speed they'd probably never achieved before. The massive oak doors slammed into the wall with a tremendous crash, drawing startled shrieks from several students.
"Or now. Now works too. Sorry, Fred," Harry muttered.
A young woman, most likely in her late twenties, came marching into the hall. To say she walked in like she owned the place would be like saying the sun was kind of bright. She walked in like everyone present should be grateful she was gracing the room with her presence.
Each step produced a sharp snap as the heels of her stiletto-heeled leather boots - thigh high and sporting an unusual number of straps and metal buckles - slammed into the stone. Her minidress was cut high and low enough that it probably would have been considered scandalous even if it hadn't been made out of a material strongly resembled latex. Three thick leather belts with heavy metal buckles were cinched around her abdomen, pressing her body into a shape that probably should be illegal.
Her hair, jet black with a purplish tinge - was wrapped in a tight bun behind her head. The edges of pins securing it glittered ominously in the afternoon light.
Tucked into a position halfway between her hip and back was a honest-to-god riding crop.
"Dude. Who ordered the dominatrix?" George asked in a whisper.
Harry slowly raised his hand and admitted, 'Uh, I'm pretty sure that was me…"
He was once again subjected to a series of shocked stares.
"I love you guys," George said quietly. "Every time I think you can't be more awesome, you prove me wrong. It's like you take it as a challenge."
Fred, his face pale, whispered, "Oh shit."
She marched her way up the aisle between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff without so much glancing to either side. It was as if the students around her didn't so much as exist. She finally stopped at the end of their tables and stared at the devastation Harry and George had left in their wake.
She favored Dumbledore - who had just about finished breaking out of his shell - with a smile. There was no warmth or kindness in it at all.
"I see you're maintaining order just as well as usual, old man," she said in a cold voice. "It's no wonder you're hailed as our greatest wizard. The way you handle a room full of children is truly admirable."
"Vasia?" Dumbledore said with a surprised look on his face.
She looked back at him with a mock-shocked look of her own. "Oh, you remember me! I was quite certain you'd forgotten, considering we haven't so much as spoken in thirteen years. It's quite remarkable so many mail owls were lost on their way to my beloved mentor. They can be so unreliable."
Dumbledore glared at her. "What are you doing here, Vasia? You know outsiders are not permitted in Hogwarts without invitation."
"Oh dear. It seems my most recent owl lost its way as well," Vasia gasped. "If it hadn't, you'd certainly know that I am here by invitation. I've even gone through the proper channels and everything. Hello, Minerva," she called, giving the deputy headmistress a sweet - actually sweet - smile. "It's quite lovely to see you again."
Albus glared at McGonagall. "Minerva? Is this true?"
"It is, Albus. Like all the paperwork you don't complete, her request was passed into my purview."
"It must be so hard to run a school, Minerve," Vasia lamented. "How ever do you cope?"
"As it turns out, doing two jobs is only twice as hard as one," Minerva replied. "Luckily, both are quite demanding, so I manage."
"We will be talking about this later, Minerva!" Albus barked, earning a slight smile. "And you, Vasia, will leave right this moment! You are not welcome here."
"As I said, I am here with permission. Are you growing hard of hearing, old man, or has age simply made you senile?"
There was quite a bit of surprised muttering around the hall.
"As headmaster, I am revoking that permission. Leave."
Vasia gave a theatrical gasp. "Oh my! How cruel!" she declared. Her expression of shock quickly faded, replaced with a slight smile that could only be described as predatory. "But I'm afraid that is something you simply cannot do. You see, though you've claimed this school as your own little plaything, you still lack the authority to overturn our ancient laws."
Dumbledore gave her a suspicious look. "What ancient laws?" he demanded warily.
"I am here - by ancient right - to consult with my lord and hear his wishes as to how I am to act as his regent. Even had I not obtained permission to be here, my right cannot be denied. I could simply take him from Hogwarts for a while, which I would still be quite happy to do."
There was a look of triumph on the headmaster's face as he began, "Mr. Zabini-"
"-would not be my lord, even if he was head of House Zabini," Vasia broke in.
"What?"
Vasia produced another mock gasp. "Oh dear. I knew I was forgetting something! How clumsy of me!" she declared in a mocking tone. "Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Vasia Demi Potter, duly appointed regent of House Potter. I would say it's nice to meet you, but it hardly seems worth the effort when we'd both know I was lying."
Dumbledore stared at Vasia.
Harry's friends stared at him.
Minerva continued eating her pancakes.
"What?" Dumbledore asked, his face a mask of shock.
There was a sharp crack. Several Gryffindor screamed, shrieked or shouted as they desperately scrambled away, eyes fixed on the crop that had just slammed into their table.
"I said I'm here to see my lord, you old bastard," Vasia replied in a tone very, very different from the one she'd been using until now. Her exaggerated, sickly-sweet voice was instantly replaced by something that could accurately be described as harsh and domineering. "Try to stop me and we'll have a problem that even you can't come out on top of. I'll grind you under my boot until you're nothing but dust, and I'll enjoy every moment of it. So go ahead, decrepit ass. Try it."
Dumbledore stared at her for several seconds, then turned towards McGonagall. "Is this true?" he demanded of her.
"Of course it is, Albus. Claiming something like that would be incredibly stupid if it wasn't true," Minerva declared, waving a forkful of pancakes at him. "Vasia was kind enough to send us official notices from both the Ministry and Gringotts. They've been sitting on your desk for two weeks."
"And you didn't feel the need to inform me?"
Minerva shrugged. "It been sitting right on top of the pile. I even moved it to the top everytime you covered it, and left it there when I collected what was overdue."
"As amusing as demonstrating your incompetence is, you hardly need my aid for that. If you're done waving that little prick of yours around, I'll be taking my lord now,"
"Young lady, we are not-"
Angel sat atop the Astronomy Tower, staring out over the Hogwarts grounds. Even after two months, she was having a hard time getting used to it. There was so much open space here. Even the so-called "Forest" was nearly nonexistent compared to what she was used of. The trees were far enough apart for a pair of wagons to pass side by side. There was no thick, clinging mist that chilled the bone and veiled the eyes.
The Forbidden Forest would have been considered Paradise where she came from. If a place like this existed in the Other Place, the soil would be stained by the blood of thousands. There wasn't a single mortal alive that wouldn't part flesh to claim land like this. A place where you didn't have to painstakingly scorch the trees and salt the ground was worth dying for. Worth killing for.
And, from what she understood, it was like this everywhere. Like this, or better.
It was so strange.
Stop.
Angel started in surprise. "Flower? How long've you been on my boobs?"
Breakfast.
"Huh. I usually notice when you get all wiggly outta your seed…"
Preoccupied.
Angel sighed. "Yeah, I guess. I don't have many good memories of Khel'se'ti," she said softly, brushing her fingers against her bell. It produced a slight, cheerful jingle. "I suppose thinking about it depresses me just a little."
Stop.
"Stop thinkin' or stop having the sads?" Angel giggled.
Yes.
"Mm~, okay. But only 'cuz I feel like it," Angel agreed, "and not 'cuz you told me to. You're not my queen, you know."
You ready?
"Huh? Oh, yeah…" she replied. She tried to tilt her head to see the eagle that was perched there. It didn't work, for reasons that should be quite obvious. "Ready as ready as… ready… can be… ready? Uh, I'm pretty sure that didn't make any sense. That's… kinda scary..."
We go?
"As soon as the Owlverlord gets here. Oh, nevermind. There she is."
Headwig shot through the sky and came to a halt hovering in front of Angel. As usual, she was flying in a manner more fit for a hummingbird than an owl.
"General Owlverlord. Report," Angel barked.
In position, Headwig informed her. Strike ready. Operation go.
Angel leapt to her feet and threw her arms in the air, nearly dislodging the eagle. "Yay! I had lots and lots of bored," she declared as Headwig landed on her shoulder. "Good work, Headywig. Stuguimpumis, let loose the dogs of war!"
No dogs.
Angel faltered. "What?"
No dogs, the eagle repeated.
"Whadda you mean we've got no dogs of war? What happened to our dogs of war?"
Gone. Loosed.
"You already loosed them!? You weren't supposed to do that! Why did you do that!?"
Piddle break.
"I told everyone to go before they got in position! Now what are we gonna do?"
Use mice?
"No, the mice of mild discontent aren't good enough. They're mice! How are Chitter and Rumpus supposed to be loosed? They'd get hurt!"
…
"Okay, you know what? You're demoted. You get the demotes. You are no longer Sergeant in Charge of Losing. Now the Owlverlord gets to loose. Are you happy? Now poor Heady has to do two jobs, because you loosed the dogs of war early!"
Failure, Orchid added.
The eagle hung his head in shame.
"Sigh. Owlverlord, let loose the eagle of supreme incompetence!"
Headwig buzzed up and belted the eagle across the back of the head. The eagle obediently let loose a piercing cry.
As noted before, it isn't easy to translate Animal to English. Animals communicate via concepts rather than words, and many of the concepts are quite simple. However, if you could accurately translate Animal into a more complex language, the cry would sound something like:
Troops! Let those suckers have it!
All through Hogwarts, dozens of familiars perked up.
To a large extent, the various animals in the castle were generally inclined to listen to and obey Angel. It made sense in a way, given the way animal tended to recognize the most powerful and dangerous of the lot as alpha. While she certainly couldn't command them like their masters could, and they would never obey her if it conflicted with their master's interests, they did generally do what she wanted them to. The only exceptions were particularly intelligent beasts, like kneazles, who could sometimes be a bit difficult to deal with.
For the reason noted above, a large portion of the castle's familiar population had been scattered around the halls and patiently waiting for nearly an hour. An observant student may have noticed this odd behavior, and perhaps even noticed there were more familiars out and about than normal. Given their tendency to nap, wander around and lurk in the walls, only around a third of the smaller beasts were generally visible at any given time, but today the number was much larger.
Of course, they were "just" familiars, and familiars did strange things all the time. Most students' eyes just slid right over them, not even noticing that'd they'd just passed the fourth dog in that hallway alone.
Maybe they'd be more careful in the future.
At the eagle's cry, every patiently waiting animal moved a single foot closer to the nearest wall. It wasn't much, but it was enough to open the entrance into the tunnels they'd been stationed by. The moment the bricks began to slide open the familiars turned and hoofed it, pawed it or high-tailed it away, shooting down the hall and diving behind the sandbag barriers that had been constructed across the doors of empty classrooms and broom closets throughout the castle.
There was an ominous rumbling noise.
No one really knew how extensive the familiars' tunnels were. The only ones that had even the faintest inkling were the familiars themselves and the occasional animagus, and the animagi tended to avoid them like the plague. Not being familiars meant they got lost easily, and couldn't even open the entrances without aid.
However, there was one thing you could say for certain about the tunnels:
They were large enough that Lady, working her ass off all night, had been unable to actually fill them with water. She had, however, made quite a valiant effort.
This is probably a good time to note that, for completely unrelated reasons, the water level of Black Lake had dropped a full foot overnight.
Water surged out of the tunnels. No, water erupted out of the tunnels, gushing forth like someone had kicked Old Faithful over sideways and jammed it into a wall. The entrance, perhaps sensing the space they normally filled was occupied, remained open long after the familiars had fled. The liquid quickly filled halls, poured out windows and flooded the halls.
Oddly, some of it didn't seem inclined act like it should. Enough water remained behind to cover every bit of floor in the castle two feet deep, even when it clearly had to defy physics to do so. Even the stairs were covered, the liquid forming a second, bizarre set atop them.
Angel watched with satisfaction as it burst from every window simultaneously.
"Good work men, women, neutered, ungendered and other!" she crowed. "C'mon, Pretty Flower. We gots to get to the trees and help your Keeper!"
Fred closed his eyes, took a deep breath and began to pray.
Please, by the grace of all that is holy in this world, please let them have messed up.
Unfortunately, his prayers went unanswered. Well, technically they were answered, just not in the way he wanted. Had he been praying for countless gallons of water to forcibly pour into the Great Hall, washing students out of their seats and burying the entire room under several inches of water, he would have been set. It was rather regrettable that the answer to his prayers was pretty much the exact opposite of what he'd been going for.
Vasia didn't so much as twitch as the flood surged around her, submerging her lower legs in a disgusting mix of water, jelly, jam, meringue and a dozen other sticky, wet substances.
Fred whimpered.
"Your ability to manage a school never ceases to amaze me. You truly are the greatest wizard in England," Vasia said with a sneer. "This place is clearly unfit for a meeting with my lord. I'll be taking him to Hogsmead."
"If you think-"
There was an explosion of water right next to the headmaster. A surprised look crossed his face for a fraction of a second before the force of the blast launched him into the air. He arced straight over the Hufflepuff tables and slammed into Slytherin, producing a noise that didn't sound at all healthy. The place that had formerly housed a headmaster was now filled by a-
"A narwhal!?" Hermione asked in disbelief. "What the hell?"
All around the hall - all around the school, in fact - similar explosions of narwhal were taking place. Dozens of the creatures appeared all over the castle, knocking over suits of armor, startling ghosts and soaking paintings
One of the creatures appeared directly in front of Vasia, soaking her to the bone. Tilting its head, it looked at her curiously.
The riding crop came around to wail the beast upside the head.
"Fracturis ictum."
The top half of the unfortunate creature vanished as it suddenly became a spray of meat and bone. Gore splattered the Hufflepuff and Slytherin tables, soaking the students there in sticky bits of former narwhal. Dumbledore, who had just climbed to his feet, suffered the worst of it. His front was completely coat, large chunks of red matter and flecks of bone sliding down his robes.
"It appears you have an infestation to deal with here," Vasia stated smugly. "Unless, of course, your pathetic brain has rotted so badly that you intend to ignore this in favor of trying to deny my lord his rights?"
Dumbledore stared at her mutely, scraping the ruined meat off his face.
"As I though."
Vasia slogged through the mess covering the floor and approached Harry.
"Now, my lord, if you would do me the honor of accompanying me? I believe a late lunch is in order, and this setting is certainly not appropriate for someone of your station."
A/N:
Updates for this might be slowing down.
I had a specific reason for writing this story, and that reason is no longer a reason.
I wouldn't consider this dead, or even in a coma really. It's just kind of taking a nap. I'll still be working on it here and there, but I won't be aiming for putting out a chapter every 1 - 2 weeks. I still enjoy working on it to a degree, I've just lost a lot of my drive.
I have a couple of other ideas I'm working on, so I might spend a bit more time on those. Or I might just cut back on how much time I spend writing in general. I'm not really sure yet.
There's some more random crap to add to the Glossary Of All Things and Stuff (GOATS), but I'll do it next chapter, whenever that is.