Chapter Twenty-Nine—DELETED SCENES or How the Snakes Make Trouble

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September

"Have you seen this?" Hufflepuff Prefect Hannah Abbott asked Head Girl Hermione. She held out a stack of papers a foot high.

"What are they?" Hermione asked.

"Wanted posters—for you, Potter, Ron, and Snape," Hannah explained. "I've been tearing them down off the walls and out of bathrooms and things but they keep popping up. I've even found some in library books."

Hermione sighed and picked up the top poster. A black and white Severus looked at her with tired eyes. "I suppose we'll just have to keep tearing them down."

"The Snakes been putting these up?" Prefect Ron asked sourly and held a picture of himself. "At least they got my good side."


October

Aurora Sinistra breezed into the staff room late one evening. She was a notorious insomniac.

"Damn it to Pluto!" she cried as she turned on the staff room lamp.

Wanted posters and newspaper clippings covered the walls—not an inch of stone showed through.

Hogsmeade Becomes Death Eater Target

Rufus Scrimgeour Murdered by Death Eaters

Why Isn't Potter Doing Anything?

Pius Thicknesse Named New Minister of Magic

Death Toll Reaches Alarming High

Dumbledore Dying?

Mudbloods and Why They Are Dangerous

Can Mudbloods Be Trusted So Near Our Children?

Top Ten Reasons Why Muggles are Inferior

Sinistra waved her wand with vicious slashing motions. Tornado-force winds ripped through the room. Furniture toppled over and the fire went out. Papers littered the floor.

"House-elf!" the beauty yelled.

A tiny creature with flapping ears and giant eyes appeared. "Yes, Madam Professor Sinistra, sir?"

"Dispose of all these papers and set the room aright," she said. She rubbed her forehead, a gesture synonymous with her exhaustion.

"Yes, Miss Sinistra, professor, ma'am!"


November

Filch and Mrs. Norris stood in the frigid corridor, staring at the ruined stone wall.

The Snakes Are Here

Slaughter Potter

Mudbloods

Dumbledore Sucks

"Dumbledore does not suck," the cantankerous caretaker grumbled to himself. His stepladder wiggled precariously under his weight.

Silently, Luna nibbled on a long stick of rock candy. Her vacant blue eyes watched poor Argus Filch scrubbing at the stone wall. Mrs. Norris glared at the Ravenclaw and yowled. Filch turned around and glared.

"Come to have a laugh at my expense, have you?" he snapped.

"No," she said. "I am free right now and could help you, if you like."

"Why would you want to help me?" he asked suspiciously.

"You work so hard keeping the castle clean, and these Snakes are dirtying it up. It isn't fair for you to clean it all alone when I also live here." The girl looked as dreamy as ever.

Mr. Filch looked a little less suspicious and a bit uncomfortable as he climbed off of the ladder.

Luna dug around in her bag and handed him a stick of blue rock candy. Argus, bewildered, took the candy as Luna snatched the scrubbing broom out of his other hand.

Mrs. Norris hissed and clawed at the girl's feet—how dare that bloody human touch her master's tools?

Luna gracefully climbed the ladder and began to scrub. She charmed the bucket of sudsy water to float next to her, and added extra magical-potency to the soap. The Snakes had combined a permanent sticking charm to paint and it was a hassle to clean.

Mr. Filch looked at the candy in his hand then up at the blonde girl on the ladder. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Luna Lovegood," she replied without stopping her work. "Ravenclaw, sixth-year, member of Dumbledore's Army."

"I always thought you lot would be the trouble-makers," he mumbled to the spun-sugar cubes.

Luna laughed.


January

Professor McGonagall held a steaming mug of coffee between her cold hands. Flames sprang up from the wall-sconces as she stepped into her classroom. As she swept past, the desks began to crawl away on their clawed feet. They arranged themselves against the wall, leaving plenty of space for the full-body Transfigurations the classes were learning today. Minerva raised the coffee mug to her lips and looked to the front of the room.

The mug slipped from her fingers and shattered on the stone floor.

On the board, someone had written the names of every family member and ancestor of the McGonagall line.

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Filius Flitwick bounced into his Charms classroom and flicked his wand at each sconce. Cheerful flames, each of a different color, crackled into life. The professor smiled at his handiwork and climbed atop his mountain of books.

The tiny man nearly fell off of his precarious chair. His desk had been vandalized. HALF-BREED had been burned into the wood.

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Ancient Runes Professor Walter Wrinkle stood in front of his chalkboard, expression grim. The Snakes had written MUDBLOOD in chalk. He then sighed and turned around. The Snakes had written MUDBLOOD in black ink everywhere else. The walls, the floor, the ceiling—all covered with the same dirty word.

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Pomona Sprout, Herbology professor, clutched her heart and gaped at the scene before her. Greenhouse One, the Medicinal House, had been burgled. Pots lay shattered on the ground, windows had been stained or cracked, and several important potions ingredients had been stolen. Professor Sprout looked to the ceiling. She nearly fainted. Painted on the glass was the feared Dark Mark.

Rolanda Hooch flew above the grounds. The woman with yellow hawk-eyes immediately spotted the Dark Mark. She panicked and flew to Greenhouse One.

"Pomona!" she cried as she ran through the door.

The squat woman was alive. She plucked at the velvety leaves of a Braidroot plant.

"What will we do now?" Pomona asked quietly. "They killed Charity and now they're trying to kill us all by killing my plants."

Rolanda could only lend a sympathetic ear. She had no idea what to do either.


February

Severus Snape and the Bloody Baron stood in the Great Hall. Both man and ghost had turned their fearsome gazes towards the two behemoth front doors.

Burned into the wood was a list.

Harry Potter—Liar

Albus Dumbledore—Blood Traitor

Severus Snape—Traitor

Hermione Granger—Mudblood

Ronald Weasley—Blood Traitor

Ginevra Weasley— Blood Traitor

Professor Weasley— Blood Traitor

DEAD Professor Burbage—Lunatic

Neville Longbottom—Useless Welp

Luna Lovegood—Lying Lunatic

Argus Filch—Squib

DEAD Rufus Scrimgeour—Useless Git

DEAD Florean Fortescue—Uncooperative

DEAD Richard Ollivander—Uncooperative

DEAD James Potter—Uncooperative

DEAD Lily Potter—Uncooperative

INCAPACITATED Frank Longbottom—Weakling

INCAPACITATED Alice Longbottom—Fool

Severus glared. The list went on and on, naming famous people and relatives of students. The other door had been marred beyond repair with a list of every Muggle-born witch and wizard in the school. Soon the students would wake for the day and see this atrocity. Severus turned on his heel and retreated to the darkness of his dungeons. These Snakes were out of control.

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Hermione couldn't get the lists out of her head. Every Muggle-born student was terrified—they all feared they would end up like Professor Burbage or Minister Scrimgeour. Tears prickled at the edges of her eyeballs when she thought about poor Neville's reaction.

Neville stood rooted to the stone in the Entrance Hall. Seamus and Dean tried to shepherd him along, away from those heinous lists, but the boy would not budge. Nearly all of the Slytherins stopped to smirk at the boy, along with several other suspect students from other houses. The teachers stood murmuring nervously to one another as the Entrance Hall filled with scared students. Some began to sob and most began to form tight-knit security groups and flee into to the Great Hall for breakfast.

Without warning, mild-mannered Neville let out an unholy scream. He whipped out his wand and lunged at the front doors. Curse after curse bounced off the magic wood and scarred away the words. Hermione ran down the marble staircase.

"Neville!" she called. "Please, stop!"

Neville continued to blacken the doors with reckless abandon. Several of the younger students ran away. The Slytherins were dumbfounded.

Professor McGonagall grabbed one arm while Hermione grabbed the other.

"Neville," Hermione pleaded, "please stop."

The distraught boy ripped himself out of their clutches. He spun around and yelled directly at the knot of Slytherins at the other end of the hall. "You filthy, rotten, disgusting, bastards!" he screamed. "How dare any of you any of you worthless pieces of shit talk about my parents that way! They were twice the wizards any of you can ever hope to be!"

Hermione tried to pull Neville back, but the boy continued to advance, wand pointed at the Snakes. Some of the Slytherins became very nervous.

"Frank and Alice Longbottom were brave wizards who denied Voldemort what he wanted! Because he's an evil git who wants to control the world like a selfish three-year-old with a toy! You idiots are so blinded by power and fear that you follow him like retarded sheep!"

Now the Slytherins began to get angry. Wands appeared and sleeves were rolled up.

Dean, Seamus, and Hermione also got out their wands. Minerva stayed back, knowing she could not stop her Gryffindors from advancing.

"Come on!" Neville taunted maniacally. "Which one of you pussies have got the balls to face me? Instead of write lies all over the school?"

None of them stepped forward.

"I didn't fucking think so!" he yelled. He stepped forward violently and several Snakes reared back. He stomped into the Great Hall and sat at the table with a fwump. Nobody said a word to him all day.

"Helloooo, Earth to Hermione," Harry said as he waved his hand in front of her face.

"Has the fwooper caught your ear?" Ron asked.

Hermione snapped back to reality.

The boys exchanged strange looks. "What does that mean?" they both asked each other at once. Hermione laughed.

Peeves zoomed overhead.

"Ruuuuuuun!" he screamed.

The Trio looked after him strangely. They heard a quiet rumble from behind.

An avalanche of mud spilled into the dungeon corridor. The Trio's eyes widened before they turned tails and ran as fast as their legs could carry them. Other frightened students had heeded Peeves's uncharacteristic warning and fled as well.

The thick, gluttonous mud rolled down the halls like murky pudding.

"Anachronism!" Hermione panted.

Severus's office door sprang open and the Trio threw themselves inside. Ron slammed the door behind him and leaned against it, breathing heavily. Harry put his hands on his knees and huffed before he realized what room he was in.

The mud rumbled past the door.

Professor Snape gave them the usual cold eyebrow from his desk. Hermione put her hands on the edge of the desk and panted.

"Do I even want to know?" he asked her in his usual melodic, deep voice.

"Mud," she huffed. "Mudslide—in the hall."

Severus's face didn't change. He put his head in his hand. "Really."

"Look for yourself!" Ron panted.

"Don't open the door!" Harry panicked. "All the mud will come in here!"

"Stupid Snakes," Ron muttered and slid down the door to sit on the floor.

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Argus Filch stood weak-kneed at the beginning of the dungeon corridor. Even Mrs. Norris looked depressed. Two feet of thick, goopy, brown mud sat on the floor of the dungeon, a wall to wall mass of evil and filth.

The caretaker thought he might start to sob as he clutched his shovel to his chest.

"Hello," a light, airy voice floated from behind him.

Argus turned. His ugly face actually turned into a happy ugly face. Thoughtful Luna Lovegood stood behind him along with a troupe of loyal Hufflepuffs from the DA.

Luna held out a hand to Mrs. Norris. The cat eyed her warily before nudging the pale hand with her nose.

"Let's get to it!" Ernie MacMillan said with determination on his freckled face.

"Those Snakes won't ruin our school!" another Hufflepuff declared.

"Yeah!"

"Let's do it!"

The students began to banish large chunks of dried mud. The wet mud underneath caused a slippery mess before Filch swooped in with his shovel. Argus smiled to himself. What he had feared to be a humongous, dirty job had actually turned into something almost…enjoyable. Maybe students weren't so bad after all.


March

Madam Pince straightened her tiny glasses as she pushed open the library door. Today was a bright and sunny day, perfect for sitting next to a window and reading until night fell.

Her severe black shoes crunched on the floor instead of squishing into the plush carpet. She looked down and screamed.

Frayed and torn pages lay scattered about her precious library; shelves had been rearranged—she could tell instantly. Empty shells of book covers lay on the floor.

Sniffling, the old woman stooped to pick one up. The First War had been destroyed. The only page left inside was a picture of baby Harry Potter—his infant face now had an elaborate mustache, and phallic symbols surrounded him like a halo. All pictures of Dumbledore had been spat on and ripped in half.

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Dennis and Colin Creevey, avid photographers, dutiful DA members, and determinedly brave Muggle-born children, flitted about the castle, photographing the evidence. Every bit of graffiti—recorded. Pranks of every sort—jotted down. Acts of violence—either caught on film or penned word for word in the giant scrapbook. The two had a joyous time photographing the mudslide (and playing in the mud afterward). Ever the Gryffindors, the two took a sort of deranged pleasure in photographing their names etched into the doors (before Neville had fixed it, of course. In their opinion, the door looked much better Neville's way).

It had been tricky, convincing Madam Pince to let them photograph the library atrocity, but she had relented after they agreed to help her put it to rights. They left the library, pleased and paper-cut, itching for a warm dinner.

The two tiny brothers stopped. Blocking their path stood three Slytherins.

Millicent Bulstrode was twice the man Colin will ever be—she could use the boy for a toothpick if she so desired. Colin gulped.

Gregory Goyle sneered down at Dennis Creevey. "Mudblood," he spat. Dennis averted his eyes and trembled. Goyle's hands were wider than Dennis's head—curled fro and all.

Vincent Crabbe cracked his knuckles.

"What have you got there, Mudbloods?" Millicent sneered.

"A camera," Colin said boldly. "You know—it takes pictures."

"I know what a camera is, you fairy-boy!" she snapped. "Crabbe!"

The wall of a man grabbed the camera out of Colin's hands.

"Hey!" Colin exclaimed. He jumped and reached for the camera but Crabbe only grinned stupidly at him and held the camera high above his head.

Goyle pushed Dennis back. "Know your place, Mudblood."

"Get your hands off my brother, Death Eater!" Dennis squeaked as he used all his meager strength to push Goyle's arm away.

Goyle laughed and shoved the boy to the floor.

Colin whipped out his wand. "Entidoo!" he cried. Goyle's hair began to curl and frizz and grow. Soon his eyes literally had the wool pulled over them.

Dennis yelled, "Growthus!" at Millicent.

"Stupefy!" she screeched at the little boy. As the boy crumpled into a heap, Millicent felt something tap her shoulder. She screeched again when she realized that her ears were growing. And growing. And growing.

Colin Creevey charmed Crabbe's eyelashes to lace together to sew the troll's eyes shut. He then slapped the dim-witted Slytherin in the face, laughed, and snatched the camera out of his giant hands. Colin, small and squirrel-like, easily dodged Crabbe's blind swings. The elder brother levitated his baby brother out of harm's way and ran down the hall, leaving three grotesque Death Eaters a little more grotesque than before.