The Founding of Pigwarts III – Chaos Is Served
Chapter 48: The Beginning of a Tradition
Decent chaos, the kind where one event sets off another which triggers the third and causes the fourth, which then combine and in synergy start a whole sequence of happenings, so that even the most careful of planners and dedicated of executers have no other option but to stand and stare, their mouths open, unable to believe that they had created all of it, required something more than a brilliant idea, comprehensive scheming and synchronized watches; it also needed luck. Without it the first event might simply set off the fourth, completely bypassing second and third, and the fifth would probably turn out nothing spectacular at all. And that would be just a mess.
o.o.o
"Come on, Millie, it will be fun," Daphne said.
"I am not going to dress up as some bug. It's bad enough what your Gryffindork friend makes me do in her stupid play," Millicent snapped.
"I thought you were fine with that," Daphne frowned. "At least Ginny told me so."
"I am fine with playing a Giant Bride. I am not fine with playing a Giant Bride that gets dumped because her fiancé runs away with a Goblin!"
"It's not as ridiculous as you think," Daphne shrugged. "I had a beautiful relationship with a cow."
"The end was particularly exquisite, as I remember," Millicent snorted, then frowned, "As if getting dumped isn't bad enough, I'm getting dumped for a Goblin."
"It's just a play, Milla," Daphne smiled. "In real life there are three men chasing after you. Could it be any better?"
"There could be four," Millie said, but looked consoled.
"How are they doing, by the way? Have any of them won your preference yet?"
"Is that your nice way of telling me that I'm being a selfish bitch?" she raised a brow. "Don't bother. Luna comes up with a different way every day. I think she's jealous, though I have no idea at whom."
"It is a bit selfish of you to keep three eligible bachelors all to yourself," Daphne remarked, "as we, mere mortals, have little chance of competing against your superior charm. But I am curious for real. Don't you prefer any of them?"
Millicent turned pensive, "I don't know, I haven't thought about it. I suppose if I had to choose one, I could, and would. But why should I pick only one, if I can have all three?"
"Because keeping a harem is out of fashion?"
"Then it's time to bring it back into fashion."
Daphne grinned, "So there's no way I can convince you to wear a clingy translucent sparkling green robe? What a shame. Especially for your harem."
Millicent glared.
"You are good at this," she finally muttered. "Who else have you— or maybe I should ask who haven't you yet managed to convince to participate in your little silly event?"
"They all crumble in the end," Daphne grinned, shrugging, "And it's not my little silly event."
"Oh yes," Millicent said, with a tone marinated in sarcasm. "It's a day of great importance for all of us Pigwartians. It's a start of a tradition that will last a thousand years, no doubt about it."
"That's a nice thought," Daphne said, "but I'm not claiming the honour of starting it for myself. I'll leave it for Ginny and Hermione to fight it out among themselves."
"Hah!" Millicent snorted, glad to hear that Ginny was having some trouble. However, it was unlike Daphne to miss out on such lovely fights.
"What exactly are you up to?" she asked, her eyes narrowed.
"Nothing terribly fascinating," Daphne replied humbly. "Just something I've wanted to try out for a while."
o.o.o
"I will do it. But I won't enjoy it."
"Shut up, Harry," Ginny said, and stood aside to give her husband a critical look.
"Well?" Harry demanded sourly, flapping his wings.
"You look…" Ginny paused, then gave in and burst into giggles.
"Let's get this day over with," he growled, giving her a look of annoyance, which then turned into envy and appreciation – she managed to look gorgeous despite the costume, or maybe even because of it.
"Sorry, Harry," she snorted. "You look fine. Or you would, if you stopped the scowling."
"It's just ridiculous," Harry grumbled.
"It's fun," Ginny corrected him. "Wouldn't you have liked it if our Professors had dressed up for a day? Wouldn't you have liked McGonagall in a costume? Or better yet, Snape? You remind me of him a little, by the way, with that scowl."
Harry's scowl dropped, from his reluctance to look like Snape or from trying to imagine Snape in a costume, it wasn't clear.
"If it's of any consolation," Ginny went on, "at least you don't have to wear tights. Unlike Malfoy."
"Really?" Harry brightened up instantly.
Ginny grinned, from successfully cheering up her husband or getting to see Malfoy in tights, it wasn't clear.
"Let's go then," she said, glancing into the mirror and adjusting her antennae once more. "And let's pick Daphne up on the way. I want to make fun of her."
o.o.o
Daphne's duck costume was a piece of art. That kind of modern abstract art that you circle a few times, trying to find an angle from which it would make any sense, until you give up, nod smartly, and say that its straight lines symbolize moral degradation while that round thing in the middle makes you think about the miracles of nature, making the combination a most profound idiosyncrasy of human mind.
"What the hell is that?" Ginny exclaimed.
Or, you could say that.
"I have no time to make fun of myself!" Daphne cried back, looking somewhat upset. "I've lost my duck!"
"Ye-e-es, that would be one way of putting it," Ginny said, standing and watching as Daphne ran around her room, rearranging piles of stuff on her floor. A flock of ducks could have gone into hiding in there, and if they were smart, they wouldn't come out.
"You don't get it!" Daphne's voice sounded from under something behind something else. "I have to find the duck. My outfit is incomplete without the duck!"
Ginny tried to imagine how the addition of the duck would miraculously transform Daphne's costume into something less confusing.
While she was doing it, and it took some time, Harry was getting quite restless beside her.
"We should do something," he whispered for some reason.
"I'm not going in there," Ginny replied, motioning towards the mine field that Daphne called her room. She had tried her luck there once – she had walked against something, slipped on something else, and pulled a whole pile of something on top of her. She was not going there again. No wonder Daphne seldom locked her door; her traps were as efficient as Milla's without showing off her superior skill in jinxes, the nasty kind.
"No," Harry shuddered at the mere thought of it. "Maybe we should go on and let her search in peace."
o.o.o
Lynn Saine walked into the common room as if she owned it, and let her arrogant gaze swept around her. Seeing no one she didn't wish to see, she slumped into a more comfortable position and traipsed to the duck pond.
"They out?" she asked just in case, taking her usual seat by the pond, sticking her feet into the water, not bothering to remove her socks and shoes. Weeks ago, the fact that she hadn't yet been pushed into the pond would have been a proof as solid as they came that the Scheming Siblings were indeed out, but now it didn't show much. From the first time she'd been pushed into the pond, Lynn had used the opportunity to splash around, play with the ducks, and appear so delighted with the experience that quite soon after it Monika and Mia stopped seeing the point in helping her to have a good time. Where was the fun in tormenting someone with something they obviously enjoyed? In fact, the sisters were so surprised at the outcome that they stopped pushing anyone into the duck pond, perhaps afraid that others would follow the example and start liking it as well.
But even when the pond was no longer an object of torture and ducks, the Sisters continued being a horror and nuisance to anyone and everyone they decided to dislike for the moment. They tried not to discriminate – everyone seemed to get equal shares of their dislike. There was one exception though, and that was the reason why Lynn sat by the duck pond now, her feet in the warm water.
The Scheming Sisters were a force to be reckoned with, reckoned and balanced. Lynn was still puzzled how exactly she had ended up standing on the other arm of the scale, leader of the Rosie Gang. She was also confused about their choice of name for themselves, but since it both irritated and pleased Ambrose, she didn't hurry to change it. Jim and Tim were mostly just irritated by it, but since the best they could come up with had been JimTimLynnTeamPlusAmbrose, they had lost their right to have any say in the matter.
And thus the Scheming Sisters had called forth the birth of their rivals, and the students of Pigwarts could breathe a lot easier now that Monika and Mia had someone specific to concentrate on. Or so they had hoped for, ever since rumours of the mysterious Rosie Gang had started to spread. Lynn and her sidekicks – how in Pigwarts she had ended up being the gang leader, she had the least idea – promoted the mystery. Of course, Mia and Monika knew who they were, or had a very good guess, or were almost certain, or suspected every other kid just in case. The mysterious rumours were followed by crazy rumours, which varied to include every single student, and also a couple of teachers, into the Rosie Gang. With all the paranoia and possibilities, the Sisters were tempted to solve the mystery first and punish the culprits later. And so the students of Pigwarts really could breathe a little easier, at least until later arrived.
"Yup," Tim nodded, "they zigzagged away ten minutes ago, arguing about the proper way to zigzag."
"All dressed up?" Lynn guessed.
"They argued about that, too."
"And we?"
"Just waiting for the bell."
Lynn nodded and splashed a little water and ducks at no one. They were all going to be very late to their lesson. They would probably miss it completely. On the other hand, with all the insects and birds zigzagging and fluttering and whatever else, there was a big chance the professors would miss their absence. Good things happened to those who dared. Bad things happened to those who dared, as well, sometimes. But if there ever was a day students could run havoc around the castle without a greater dread of detention, it was this day. The Haa day.
The bell rang and there was a lot of zigzagging. Lynn dived into the duck pond to avoid detection, although on second thought, it might not have been such a good idea. Yet no one seemed suspicious enough to lag behind; when she surfaced, Tim was the only one in the room, giving her a funny look. She ignored it, climbing out and drying off – it was time to get serious.
"Well?" she demanded in her most authoritative gang-leader voice. The boys had the gall to grin at her when she used it, but nevertheless they obeyed. One more item in her long list of things she was puzzled about.
"Here's the goo," Jim replied, emerging from the dormitories, Ambrose behind him, both carrying two large buckets of colourful yet slimy substance. "Take your pick, Amb called dibs on the slippery one."
"What does the pink one do?" Lynn pointed at one of the buckets.
"Hums annoying melodies terribly off key," Jim grinned, as if that was the worst torture imaginable.
"And the blue and green dotted one?" Lynn asked.
"That one itches," Tim snickered.
"And the black tar-like?"
"It's very-very sticky. Like really-really sticky. I mean, it sticks like no other goo has ever stuck before."
Lynn moved away from the last one. She was clearly having a streak of luck here, and it might not be a good idea to be anywhere near the really sticky goo when she ran out of it. She could probably live with the annoyingly humming one – after all, it wouldn't be very different from Eliza. That in mind along with some other things, she picked the one they had probably intended for her,
"I'll take the pink."
Jim grinned, handed her the bucket and went to fight with Tim about the really sticky one. Lynn glanced at the green stuff Ambrose had chosen, reflecting on the plan. It wasn't brilliant, it wasn't ingenious, it was only good old goo. It was classics. You could always blow up a toilet, and you could always dump goo on people, without anyone shaking their heads and frowning. Screaming, yes, cursing, yes, waving their hands and running around like endless Blast-Ended Skrewts, yes, but not frowning. Some pranks never got old.
So the rest of the Castle could compete for the best costume, while they had a competition of another kind going on. The goo was only part of the prank. The other part, the much more important part was to choose the right person to dump the goo upon. The Scheming Sisters were, of course, at the top of that list, but there were only two of them, and four buckets of goo. And that's why this was a competition, one that Lynn was a lot more excited to win than the other.
o.o.o
It was all jungle inside the castle of Pigwarts. Of course, being a school it had always possessed qualities of a jungle life, with all the jungle laws, such as survival of the wittiest. The only difference now was that instead of looking at the hair colour, the Professors had a much tougher time trying to figure out which House to deduct points from. It was all fine with those students whose outfits, even if they resembled Daphne's, were at least in the House colours. But some were of the opinion that owls were not blue, that dragonfly wings came in a great variety of colours, and that an azure and pink striped bee could be found if you searched long enough. Or possibly asked Luna.
This problem, in itself, could have been solved quite easily, either by deducting no points at all, deducting points from all the Houses, or deducting points from random House on the principle that statistically everything would be fine. But the students had not been born yesterday. The way they saw it was that they had been given the chance to make trouble and let someone else get in trouble for it, and an opportunity like that could not be wasted. So while some of the students went peacefully their ways, from class to class, discussing among themselves the chances of winning the Costume Competition, there were those who stalked the hallways, with a bucket of goo, determined not to let anyone get anywhere in peace.
All in all, it was just another day in the life of Pigwarts.
o.o.o
"You told me Malfoy was wearing tights!" Harry exclaimed, unable to contain his disappointment. He had retreated into the Professors' Lounge after his first lesson of the day, a perfect place to hide from all the stares he kept getting. He'd always been stared at, of course, but now there were also snickers and finger pointing and Malfoy didn't look half as ridiculous as he'd been promised.
This exclamation was followed by more stares and sniggers, not to mention the lazy drawl from the disappointer himself, "I'm not sure whether to be flattered or disgusted by that, Potter."
Ginny rolled her eyes. Harry didn't look half as ridiculous as he sounded. But he didn't believe her. Did he really think she would dress him up in something that made him look funny, so that the whole school – especially the female half – could get a nice laugh at his expense and decide he wasn't really worth much of their attention? Of course Harry didn't think that, bless him. And it wasn't like she'd made him wear tights. Everyone was looking a little ridiculous. Terry, for example, reminded her of Errol after being fished out of a jug of pumpkin juice yet again. Blaise, playing tribute to his old house, looked like he'd swallowed one mouse too many, and Vincent seemed to have dressed up as a gigantic flobberworm. All things considered, Harry was nowhere near the most ridiculous among teachers. He was somewhere near fourth or fifth place.
Malfoy, on the other hand, was one of the least ridiculous, and that was probably why Harry was sulking. Ginny couldn't deny she was a little disappointed herself – she had hoped to see someone in tights. It might have been Malfoy, if Hermione had been a little more cooperative, but there was still that tiff between them. First there was the fact that Hermione had stolen the idea of the Haa day from Ginny and was now getting all the credit for it, then she had allowed Daphne to dress up as a duck, and after doing all this she had had the gall to be angry with Ginny when she'd refused to help her come up with a suitable prize for the best costume winner.
And now Harry was being sulky, and Hermione was smug, and Daphne was being weirder than usually, not to mention absent when Ginny wanted to talk to her. Probably still looking for her duck or something.
"Oh, drop that wounded hero look, Potter," she snapped, annoyed. "Look at Terry, look at Blaise, look at Vincent. You are not ridiculous compared to them."
"That's a big consolation," Harry muttered, although he did brighten up for a moment, then returned to his former gloom, "The students kept staring at me all class long."
"That's what they're supposed to do," Ginny insisted. "You're the Professor. They have to pay you attention. Maybe they stared at you because you look good?"
Harry considered this, then shook his head. "I look ridiculous."
"Harry," Hermione spoke up, much to Ginny's growing annoyance, "people are always staring at you. I thought you've got used to it by now?"
"Have you?"
"No," she said, "Not really. But when they stare and point at me today, I know it's because I'm dressed up as a giant blue owl. It's not because of what I've done or what they think I've done, and I don't have to worry about another crazy rumour going around. It's actually rather nice to be stared at for being ridiculous, don't you think that, Harry?"
"Hermione, you sound just like Daphne!" Ginny breathed in awe after a long moment of silence, forgetting all about the tiff between them.
Hermione, a bit surprised at her own speech, replied with a hesitative smile, "Thank you."
"Why do you think it's a compliment?" Ginny frowned, remembering her annoyance with both Hermione and Daphne. She wasn't sure which bothered her the most.
o.o.o
Ron was not in the Professors' Lounge. He wasn't in his office either. Instead, he was having lots of fun. He hadn't had such a good time since the Great Pancake Caper, and that had been weeks ago. It was chaos and anarchy all over the castle, like any other day, but unlike any other day he didn't need to worry about it. Not that he had worried about it before, but now he didn't need to. It was supposed to be like that, and the best part about it was that instead of sitting in his office, munching on lime drops and practicing ear flapping, he was able to run through the hallways with all the other students, waving his hands, and crying stuff like 'Wheee!'.
That was because he was wearing a costume, see, and no one knew he was the Headmaster. Most of his life he had yearned for being known and noticed, to stand out from the crowd, to be pointed at and whispered about in awe. He quite enjoyed the attention, thank you very much, so this wasn't a situation when dream come true turned out to be a nightmare. But there were times, though not very often, when anonymity wasn't such a bad thing either. Like now.
True to his word, or someone's word at least, Ron had dressed up as a pig. A wild pig, mind, which meant his robes were brown with light stripes, and he could pass off as an owl if necessary. Especially if he flapped with his trotters and cried things like 'Wheee!' even if that wasn't a normal owl's call.
But he was having fun. Crying things like 'Wheee!' was fun, especially while you did it in a conga line with dozens of other people who all considered it a pleasant pastime and not weird at all. Anonymity was liberating. And the product samples from Fred and George that he had generously distributed, and had a taste himself, did no harm either.
Ron felt a surge of gratitude towards Hermione, or Ginny, or Daphne, or whoever else had played a part in making this day happen. He felt another surge of gratitude towards Daphne only, for having convinced Millie to join in the fun. He hadn't seen her yet, but he was sure it would happen very soon – causing havoc in the hallways was a sure way to summon Millie. Anything that gave her the excuse to deduct points, and she would be there before you could even think of an escape plan. Ron was not going to go anywhere, except round and round until the world spun around him and everything was just perfect.
o.o.o
It all happened very fast. It doesn't take all that long for a bucketful of goo to rain down on the chosen victim. It happens too fast for the prankster to realize that maybe they should have chosen better.
The scream of fury reverberated through the castle.
o.o.o
Perry Purple Apparated at the gate, then hurried through it. He'd sent an owl in advance, informing the Headmaster of his coming. Of course, he hadn't sent it too much in advance, since some element of surprise had to be on his side, that was the point. If everything went according to plan, the owl would arrive about now. This would give the Headmaster a good five minutes of panicking.
Of course, if the Headmaster was anything like Dumbledore, he would spend it preparing tea and biscuits, and when Perry entered his office, he would be sitting behind the desk and twinkling at him over the rim of his spectacles. Perry Purple smiled at the thought. He had no idea what this Headmaster would be like, but he hoped there would be some tea and biscuits. There usually were.
Five minutes later Perry Purple was lost. He was also slightly confused by what seemed to be the school's dress code – he'd tried the word uniform first, but it hadn't worked – but he wasn't one to judge too quickly. There was probably a very good explanation for this, possibly something to do with a new teaching method. The students seemed happy enough, and there were no regulations that he knew of which forbid dancing in the hallways. Perhaps it was a bit rowdy, but then again – he smiled – it had been quite the same in his own school time. Sneaking around, being up to no good, missing lessons, hiding from Professors – a usual day in any school. They hadn't dressed up as animals in his days, but this was the new times, the new era, and it didn't look all that bad.
Still, he wanted to find his way into the Headmaster's office before the tea went cold, so he looked around for any helpful creature. It was a very good thing that he did so, because now he could jump out of the way when a dozen on students ran past him, waving their hands and shouting things like 'Wheee!'. Perry had a sudden urge to join them, but it passed almost as quickly as the students themselves. Besides, he wasn't here to have fun, he was here to do his job.
Ah, there! A student that wasn't running, waving hands and crying things like 'Wheee!'. Dressed up as something furry with yellow and brown stripes, they stood at the wall, silent. Perry hesitated for a moment; the student tried to look inconspicuous and that was never a good sign. But maybe they had simply jumped away from the path of the whee-ers, just like him, and this seemed like a good chance to get the information, before his tea went cold.
He approached the student with a smile on his face, "Hello… child. Could you please direct me to the Headmaster's office?"
The child startled, then looked up at him, a guilty expression fleeing from their face. Perry tried to be as reassuring and friendly as possible, nodding encouragingly.
"It's… uhh," the child, a boy, stuttered.
It suddenly occurred to Perry that against all the evidence – the guilty look, the inconspicuous stance – the boy may have never been to the Headmaster's office and would not know its whereabouts.
"The Professors' Lounge, then?" he asked.
"It's… up the stairs and then right…" the boy shifted, fell silent, and then blurted out the question, "Who are you, anyway, mister?"
"I'm Perry Purple," said Perry, with a small bow and smile, "And who do I have to honour of speaking with?"
"Uhh," the boy replied, "umm… Benji. Benji… Uncleton."
Perry supressed his grin, "Nice to meet you, Benji Uncleton."
"Yeah," the boy shifted again, and Perry knew there would be another question fired at him. He wasn't disappointed.
"Why are you here?"
Clearly the child was curious, and also a bit suspicious. In such times, when the past was only just in the past, everyone tended to be a bit suspicious. And of course, one should never underestimate the power of curiosity.
Perry considered his position. The best way to do his job would be if no one knew of him, but for that he'd have to be invisible. And it wasn't that kind of visit. He didn't do that kinds of visits. So maybe it would be for the best to tell the boy everything. He might be more helpful then.
"I'm from the Ministry. I came here to see if you're doing all right."
Ben Uncleton's mouth dropped open. Perry patiently waited for the boy to collect himself.
"From the Ministry? To see if… Are you an inspector?"
"Something like that, yes. Now, you said up the stairs and then right?" he prompted, returning to their previous conversation.
"Yes… and then…" the boy's gaze suddenly clarified. He looked up at Perry with determination. "I can show you."
"Won't you be late to class?"
"No, I have a free period now," the boy replied with the same certainty, so that Perry wasn't sure whether this was another lie or not. But the offer was too good to resist.
"That would be very kind of you," he said, and set off beside the boy. When they reached the staircase, Perry started to ascend, but the boy pointed down another hallway.
"This way's quicker."
Perry stepped down the stairs and followed him, trying to memorize the way. They walked down several corridors before they came to a stop before two high, massive doors adorned with gold ornaments. He bent forward to examine them more closely, and heard the boy say behind him,
"It's right here, Mister Inspector."
Relieved to have reached a destination, Perry didn't pay much attention to the boy's words or how they had been spoken. He certainly missed the extra nasty stress on the word 'inspector'. And while he knew that they past was only in the past, he hadn't thought about the fact that once upon a time a different kind of Inspector from the Ministry had walked into a school like this. Because the only thing Perry Purple had in common with Dolores Umbridge, was that he, too, liked cats.
He was slightly puzzled when he opened the door and saw rows and rows of bookshelves, but he wasn't puzzled by this for long. Only as long as it takes for a bucketful of goo to rain down on the chosen victim.
A scream of fury reverberated through the castle.
o.o.o
Ron ran into the person standing in front of him. The procession had stopped, there were no more hand waving and "wheee"-calling. There had been, however, a blood-curdling, glass-breaking, ear-splitting scream, and not from very far. Now there was a changing of looks, a shaking of heads, some scrabbling of feet, and several drawing of wands. Ron sighed and stepped forward. He had really enjoyed himself. But then again, a good fight with whatever lurked round the corner didn't sound all that bad either.
Yanking off his mask, he turned to the students and, ignoring their gasps of shock and horror, said in his most authoritative voice,
"You stay here. I'm going to investigate."
He walked down the corridor, shrugging off his costume as he went. Good thing he'd decided to wear some clothes beneath it. He hadn't exactly tested out the pig costume as a garment for duelling. He reached the corner and then stepped out with no hesitation, brave in his Chudley Cannons pyjamas. He'd seen no point in getting dressed if he'd be wearing a costume all day long anyway.
The sight of the thing rooted him to the spot for a moment. It was green and slimy and writhing on the floor, grunting. Ron inhaled, gripped his wand, and walked closer. It took him a little while to figure out just what it was, and then he was rooted to the spot for real. The wand slipped from his numb fingers, his jaw dropped open, and he could do no more than stare.
"What the hell are you doing, you ultimate moron!" the creature shrieked. "Get me out of this stuff! Get me out, get me out, get me out!"
Ron moved his mouth, trying to say something, but unsuccessfully. His ears had already turned tomato, and the rest of his face hurried to catch up with them.
o.o.o
Perry Purple was annoyed. He was also blue and green dotted and itching like hell. This probably had something to do with the sticky slimy substance he was currently covered in. He'd tried to remove it by magic but it put up a resistance. He'd ventured into the library in hope for some assistance, and was now standing there, dripping onto the carpet, while the ghostly Uncle Benji prattled on about all of his dead relatives and acquaintances, who had looked exactly like that before kicking their bucket. This, above all, was the source of his growing annoyance.
Perry Purple was not a bad person. He was kind and gentle, and in his job he tended to be lenient, wherever possible. That was why Perry Purple was as welcome as any inspector ever could. Everyone wanted him to come and do the inspection. And they gave him tea and biscuits, not to bias his judgement, but because he was the kind of person one wanted to give tea and biscuits. Perry Purple was the nice kind of inspector.
He was not feeling particularly nice right now, though. He was annoyed, and itchy, and his tea had definitely gone cold by now. Maybe this visit would not turn out as pleasant as he had expected it to. After all, he had the power to write a negative report, and his boss, Mr Brown, had the power the revoke the license the school needed to be a school.
Perry Purple was not revengeful. But he thought that maybe a school where innocent people were doused with itchy goo needed a more serious investigation.
o.o.o
Millicent was annoyed. She was also furious, and definitely revengeful. Someone was going to pay for it. No. Everyone was going to pay for it. She would not hold back her ire this time. Many of her students would have been rather shocked by her newest resolution, but Millicent decided it was time to stop playing nice.
Ron stood by her side, looking at her in awe and fright. He had managed to get most of the slippery goo off her, enough to allow Millie to stand up. That was his first mistake. She didn't understand why his initial reaction to finding her in a blob of goo was to turn tomato red and let his jaw drop, but that was his second mistake. The pyjamas were the third. Millicent was not going to let anyone escape her fury, and Ron was the closest.
She took a deep breath, and then exhaled it in a scream, "You bowtruckle's butt! You flobberworm's vomit! You erumpent's excrement!"
Ron listened as the insults continued, gaining length and ingenuity as they went. He looked taken aback, but also rather awed. Of course, he didn't know that Millicent and Blaise had once spent an entire evening together thinking those up, and if he had known, he probably wouldn't have enjoyed them as he did now. He stared at her for a few more moments, and then suddenly started patting his pockets. He only had two; from the second he pulled out a piece of crumpled up parchment, smoothed it out the best he could, and pointed his wand to it.
"Could you repeat that last one?" he managed to insert into one of her brief breathing pauses, ready to mark it down.
Millicent glared at him, but quickly pulled herself together.
"You're pathetic," she snorted, "You amused me for a while, but now I've lost my interest. Run off to your little friends, maybe they're better at faking tolerance towards your ridiculousness. And stop scribbling down my speech!"
Ron looked up with a sheepish expression. Not hurt or insulted, she noticed with bemusement. Not in the slightest concerned or upset by her words. Possibly because it wasn't the first time she'd told him such things. But now she was meaning them! Well, not really, but she meant him to think she meant them.
o.o.o
Ginny was annoyed. She wasn't the only one. Nearby, Hermione was pacing and ranting on several insignificant matters. That was annoying Ginny, too, but it was also a small consolation. And she knew that Harry was also annoyed, wherever he was. The Haa day had become a Holy Annoying Afternoon, and the fact that she hadn't been able to come up with a better name was damn annoying by itself. It was all Daphne's fault, she decided.
"Quack," said the duck.
Because this time it wasn't the duck that had gone missing, but Daphne herself. Ginny had found the bird wandering the hallways, near Susan's classroom, and had picked it up with the certainty that its presence would lure out Daphne. So far it hadn't, and thus Ginny's annoyance grew.
"And I still can't make up my mind about the prizes!" Hermione despaired.
"Give them the damn trophy and be done with it," Ginny muttered grumpily.
"I can't give out a school award, not to mention the first award that's ever been given in this school, for the best animal costume!"
"Why not?" Ginny wondered, without much curiosity.
"Because that kind of thing will be written down in history books for thousands of years!"
"Oh, please. No one reads that stuff anyway." Ginny looked up. Hermione's annoyance, though annoying itself, was also a bit of a distraction from things that were more annoying. "If that makes you so worried, just tell Draco to hush it up in his chronicles."
"I can't do that!" Hermione exclaimed, as if the mere thought of it was blasphemous. At Ginny's raised brows, she added, "Susan's writing it at the moment. I thought it would be nice if every teacher could add their own little contribution."
"Hey!" Ginny cried out in indignation. "You haven't asked me to write something."
"You didn't show up any interest. She did."
"But I'm your best friend!"
Hermione rolled her eyes, "Don't worry, Gin. You'll get your turn."
"Right after Susan," Ginny insisted.
"Right after Susan," Hermione echoed. "Right after Susan, Neville, Terry, Blaise, Luna, Harry, and Millicent."
"I'm surprised you didn't name Daphne," Ginny remarked sarcastically.
"I thought I'd forgotten someone. She's between Blaise and Luna."
"And where am I?" Ginny demanded. "The very last?"
"Well, Ron hasn't asked about it yet. And I haven't written anything either," she eyed her friend's sour expression, "Besides, it's a history book. Are you really this gloomy because you have to wait to write a history book?"
"It's not just a history book," Ginny grumbled. "It's our story."
"All history is someone's story," Hermione pointed out.
"Yes, but ours is interesting."
Hermione shook her head in amusement, then suddenly gave Ginny a sharp look, "Don't tell me you have cancelled your lessons, as well?"
"Quack," said the duck. They ignored it.
"It's just one day, Hermione. Let the children have some fun. You can go back to quizzing them to exhaustion tomorrow."
Hermione threw her hands in the air, "Fine. Fine. What's one more day wasted when there's infinite knowledge out there and numbered days to learn it."
"Exactly," Ginny nodded.
Hermione sighed, and gave up. "I'll go find Ron, maybe he can spare a packet of lime drops for the winner."
"What an amazing award," Ginny breathed.
"Quack," said the duck.
o.o.o
The first thing Hermione noticed upon entering the Headmaster's office was an empty cauldron, because she managed to walk right into it. Muttering a few choice words addressed to Ron, she picked it up and put it away. The second thing she noticed was an owl, tapping impatiently on the glass. She barely managed to pull open the window when the creature leapt at her, putting its sharp beak and claws to work. It was rather ironic, being attacked by an owl when she was dressed up as one, but she could have appreciated the irony a lot better if it had hurt less. Fortunately the owl got bored with her after a dozen pecks or so, let out a disdainful hoot and flew away. Hermione rushed to the window and slammed it shut.
Rubbing her arms and limping slightly due to the cauldron incident, Hermione popped down into Ron's chair and tidied up his desk as a way of relaxation and recovery. When all else had been neatly organized, she glared at the letter the devilish owl had delivered. It was addressed to the Headmaster of Pigwarts. Cautious, Hermione turned it over with levitation spell, reading the sender's name: Ministry of Magic.
She hesitated. The letter was addressed to Ron, but if the owl had been that impatient and reproachful, it must have been urgent. Ron was not around, and she had no idea where he might be, while this letter continued being urgent. And if it was Pigwarts business, she had every right to know about it, and besides, she had been the one getting attacked by an angry owl. That excuse in mind, she spelled the letter open and keeping it at some distance from her, strained to read its contents. Suddenly she grabbed hold of the parchment, pressing it almost against her nose, and scanned the words with ferocious attention. She then lowered the letter, and looked around the room almost desperately, half hoping to find Ron and Perry Purple sitting in a corner in deep discussion, but she failed to see either. She turned back to the letter, as if reading it again would change its content, but when it became clear it wouldn't, she flew to the door, wrenched it open, and hurried away. She had to find Perry Purple now.
o.o.o
Unfortunately, someone found Perry Purple first.
"You!"
Perry looked towards the shout and saw two people hurrying towards him. The first was a girl with blobs of green goo sticking to her. He felt a bout of sympathy, knowing himself how not nice it was getting doused with the stuff. Then he noticed her clothes and felt a bout of something else. Surprise, attraction, nostalgia, regret, and disapproval, in that particular order. Surprise and attraction were only natural, although unprofessional. With nostalgia he remembered the one time he'd snuck into girls' dormitories and spent half a night hiding under a bed. The amount of detention he'd got for that was something he was trying to forget, but seeing Margaret Bloomsdale in a similar garment had been almost worth it. Disapproval was the proper and professional emotion he should have felt first, or at least right after the initial surprise.
Not much ashamed of himself but careful not to revert back to any of those unprofessional feelings, Perry quickly looked at the second person. That was a boy dressed in Chudley Cannon's pyjamas. The surprise returned. He searched for a possible solution, but the people reached him before an explanation.
"Who the hell are you?" the girl demanded.
"I'm… P-Perry. Perry Purple," he stammered under her glare. He knew he shouldn't have, and that some people might blame him for doing that, if they ever found out, but it wasn't them standing on the receiving end of such a stare.
"That's a sissy name," she proclaimed, "what the hell are you doing in my school?"
"Milla," the boy said, taking her arm, possibly in an attempt to restrain her, but even Perry knew he would fail. He did.
"Get your hand off me if you wish to keep it," she hissed.
Perry swallowed. He had suddenly had enough. Enough of weird costumes and inappropriate attires, of itching goo, of glaring children. He would come back another time. And he wouldn't come alone.
He inched away from the students, nodding at them reassuringly, encouragingly, wishing he had a mirror so that he could be reassured and encouraged himself.
"Stop right there!" the girl barked.
Perry jumped at the shout, and then started when he noticed the wand pointing at his chest. Err… tea and biscuits, tea and biscuits, not itching goo and pointed wands. And definitely not glares like that. For the first time during his career, Perry Purple suddenly feared for his if not life then at least health. This wasn't a school. This was a place of terror.
"Milla!" the boy exclaimed, apparently unconcerned for the survival of his limbs, because he placed his hand upon hers and tried to push it lower. Perry considered creeping away while the students were otherwise occupied, but one look from the girl and the realization of where her wand was pointing now rooted him to the spot.
"Err," he said. He couldn't even think right under that glare.
"Milla, calm down," the boy ordered. How he managed to say such a thing under such a glare was incomprehensible to Perry, but he was glad for the distraction.
"He's a stranger! Trespassing!" Milla spat. "You of all people should worry about this… he breached the wards, maybe he's here to murder us all."
"I've got a permission," Perry said, suddenly pulling himself together. The talk of breaching the wards had reminded him that he had every right to be there, even though right was a weak shield from glares and pointed wands. "I'm from the Ministry. I'm here to talk to your Headmaster."
The boy's mouth had dropped open and he looked somewhat horrified. The girl's expression did not change.
"How do I know you're not lying? Anyone can say they're from the Ministry. And even if you are, you could still be here to murder us all."
"Young lady," Perry Purple began, knowing the moment the words left his mouth that they shouldn't have.
"What did you call me?" the young lady in question screeched.
The boy didn't call out her name this time. He merely reached out with his hand and snatched her wand away, just like that, making it look easy. He then stepped forward, careless to leave his exposed back towards the girl, even if she was wandless and shocked about it.
Perry stared at the boy, mostly in shock as well. He stared back and seemed to be thinking hard. Before he could speak, however, the girl behind him snorted and pushed him forward,
"You want to speak to the Headmaster? Fine. Here he is – Ronald Weasley, Headmaster of the Pigwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, or as I like to call it, Terror and Chaos."
The last part registered with Perry first, and he agreed wholeheartedly – it was indeed the Pigwarts School of Terror and Chaos. Fortunately, he had the power to put an end to it, and he was very much resolved to do exactly that.
