Author's note this is part two of a double posting today.

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Once Moxxie was gone, Millie was completely on edge - she didn't like the look of the pale guy with the greasy black hair, and she liked the idea of him testing her little Moxx-Moxx even less. He looked shady, like the kind of guy that goes to a sex shop and scours through porn CDs for three hours with a strange intensity.

She sat down on the plush couch of Dumbledore's office, gnawing at her fingernails. Loona soon sat beside her, almost completely unaware of Millie's anxiety, sitting there with an air of simultaneous expectation and boredom, one of her fingers tapping at her dead phone.

Blitzo set himself close to Loona, pacing up and down and eyeing Dumbledore distrustfully.

Dumbledore, on his part, looked slightly amused. "What are they gonna do to my Moxx, Mr. Dumbledore?" Millie suddenly let out, her tone both fearful and angry. "You must understand that your…" "Husband," Millie quickly told him.

"That your husband, then, is about to enter a dangerous tournament, one that will inevitably force him to use his magic. Magic that he has not trained. Professor Snape will see to it that he has all the proper tools to participate." "Why in the hell are you putting him through this?

Why does he have to participate in the… wizard Hunger Games, or whatever it is?" "I'm afraid I myself am unfamiliar with the exact contract that the Goblet of Fire presents. I also fear I do not completely understand many things that you say…" he looked at Loona, and Blitzo seemed about to clock him. "Might I ask, what is that contraption?" Loona took a moment to realize he was talking to her.

Then, she frowned. "What? You mean my phone?" "Ah, a phone," Dumbledore looked gravely at it as if studying its components.

Blitzo was raving at this point. "How do you not know what a phone is, Gandalf? Are you from the 1700s?" He asked, waving his hands in the air. Dumbledore looked at him from over his spectacles.

"Blitzo, I think… what year do you believe it is?" Blitzo paused. "What?" "It is currently," Gandalf said, standing and heading over to his desk. After a pause, he procured a newspaper from it and set it before Loona and Millie. "1994," he finished. "Ho-lee shit," Millie let out a gasp.

Loona groaned. "So you don't have any chargers?" She asked, exasperated. "What do you mean it's 1994?" Blitzo snapped at Dumbledore, who in return looked back at him with what seemed to be unwavering patience.

"You see, I believe we may yet learn much from one another.

I should like to know about… Hell, and in return, I will provide you with anything that is in my power." Blitzo looked like he was just about to spill his guts when Millie held up one of her hands. "Hold up. We ain't supposed to be revealing anything to humans," she looked at Blitzo pointedly. "Ah, but I am not just a human, Millie.

I am a wizard. I am sure your rules do not establish that you must keep information from me?" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "I'm not sure what the rules even are, with this…" Millie looked down at her feet.

"Fuck it, Millie! The whole goddamn school saw three Imps and a hound burst into the middle of their dinner. Through a portal. It can't hurt to talk to this grandpa." "I'm with Millie," Loona said, shaking her head.

"It's bad news to get involved in any of this stuff. We're probably already in too much trouble as it is." "If I may," cut in Dumbledore, "I believe that the only way I can assure a quicker, safe passage back to your land is to know as much about it as I can. Otherwise, you may very well be stuck here more than you'd like."

They all hushed at that. They didn't know how much of it was true and how much of it was just a bluff meant to get them to reveal their secrets. But they wouldn't risk it - after all, what else could they do? Blitzo rolled his eyes and began telling Dumbledore everything.

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Snape's weird, villainous cape swished dramatically behind him as he walked. Moxxie thought it was comical, almost as if the guy thought he was part of a movie. He had to hold in his laughter, looking at the exaggerated character before him.

He knew that if he really did laugh, then the man would probably dunk his head in a toilet or something, but he reckoned wizards probably had more sophisticated forms of bullying.

Though Moxxie was taller than him in his human form, he still struggled to keep up, and he hobbled along behind Snape, dreading whatever it was that would come his way soon. Finally, after a few confusing turns and lengths of massive stone corridors, they arrived at a gathering of huge stairs that moved.

Moxxie was already shocked enough by the ever-shifting stairs, looking at them as they connected and disconnected, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, and all stairs did that.

Contributing to his amazement, the portraits he had overlooked as they were walking down the stairs suddenly began calling him.

Moxxie couldn't discern any words, really, but they were cheering and calling out, the whole crowd of framed people moving from their established positions in the picture to get a closer look at Moxxie and ask him questions that he couldn't understand from the clamor of the crowd.

Snape ignored them at first, but as they descended their first set of kinetic stairs, the cheering and bustle became far too loud even for him.

He simply uttered a grave 'silence' in their direction, and they mostly quieted down - at the very least, they lowered their volume, but they seemed to be whispering to one another incessantly.

Moxxie was fighting hard to soak up every wonder that this castle had and still keep up with Snape's inhuman pace.

It was complicated. He was so shocked by all the things he saw and all the things he had seen already that it was complicated to fathom what else was in store for him.

He had no idea that he hadn't seen anything yet. So they went down a whole lot of stairs and finally got to what Moxxie assumed to be the ground floor.

After that, they went through another series of long corridors and arrived at the coldest part of the castle that Moxxie had been in yet.

As they were walking, the stone of the hallway had been turning progressively darker and darker until they had reached the color of a dungeon and even seemed to gleam as if with wetness.

In that secluded and scarily silent part of the castle, there was another set of stairs, and it was there that Snape took him.

Procuring a key from one of the many folds of his dark cloak, he opened an old, iron-locked door and opened it, stepping aside to have Moxxie enter first. He wasn't too keen on turning his back on the creepy guy, but he didn't think he had much of choice.

Moxxie entered the man-cave reluctantly, looking at his surroundings warily.

There were shelves lined with little bottles of varying colors, and now he really did think he was in a dungeon of some sort.

The cold was raising little bumps on his arms and making him clench his jaw to keep his teeth from starting to chatter. Snape, on his part, seemed completely at ease as he entered it.

He closed the door behind him and locked it. Fuck. "Uhm, what are you locking that for?" God, was this guy going to start doing some freaky shit to him? Was this his little black room of pain?

Moxxie could see no sex swings or odd-shaped toys in any of the shelves or on the desk farther off to the room, but this man was a wizard - Lucifer only knew what he could have in store.

In fact, Moxxie noticed a strange, dark chair off the side of the room, and though it didn't have any straps on it, its presence was still questionable. "So that we shan't be interrupted," Snape responded curtly, his tone telling Moxxie that he considered his very answer a favor.

Moxxie didn't like him one bit. "Who would come in here willingly?" Moxxie snorted. Snape ignored him, setting his cloak off to one side as if it wasn't cold and drawing up a long, elegant stick.

Moxxie had watched enough movies to know that that was a wand. What was next? Did they ride on broomsticks? Ha. "Prepare yourself," Snape commanded, standing as far away from Moxxie as he could, his wand held out strangely.

Moxxie did not fail to notice how phallic it seemed in his eyes.

And it looked particularly suspicious in the creepy man's hand. "Prepare for what?" He asked nervously. "I'll have you know that only Millie can peg-" but he was interrupted by Snape's sudden 'Ascendio' and his feet starting to levitate in their air.

Moxxie wriggled like a worm as Snape held him in place, presumably by his wand, and he was desperate to escape.

Slowly, Snape lifted him as high as the ceiling, and the more he was lifted by that invisible force, the more uncomfortable and desperate he got.

As soon as Snape had had his little fun and determined that he was completely helpless, he lowered his wand, and Moxxie dropped to the floor. On his face.

"I think you need to get pegged," he said, rubbing his sore cheek. "Might relax you a bit." "Your wand, Mr. Potter," Snape commanded, his moving jaw either an indicator of synthetic drugs or that he was running out of what little patience he had. "I don't have a wand, you idiot!

Do you think we have retail outlets for that crap in Hell?" He finally snapped and indicated that he wasn't one of the children that this man was probably used to being a bully too. He couldn't even imagine having him as a teacher: it seemed like a nightmare.

But Moxxie was a grown man, and he was a Hell-dweller. A lot of people might taunt him or walk over him, but the meanest living person was like a cute little rabbit in comparison to the tamest person in Hell.

Despite Moxxie's little outburst, however, Snape didn't seem in the least perturbed.

In fact, he seemed like the kind of man and had the kind of face that probably never revealed any emotion other than disdain or extreme disgust.

The only thing Moxxie got from what he said was a slight, distasteful curl of his lip as if the man were a dog about to growl.

But a starved, wet dog digging in the trash. "Useless. Just like your father, I see," he tsked at Moxxie, looking down at him even though he was shorter than him.

Just like my father? Though he had never actually met his father - the one Snape was referring to, anyway, it was still horribly insulting.

What did this spineless, disgusting sack of grease and ineptitude know about his father - about anything?

He had probably been rejected by a single woman online and decided to become an incel for the rest of his days, thinking that boohoo, he had it so hard.

Moxxie's deep dislike for the man brewed in his chest.

He wasn't useless, and from what he had understood from what Dumbledore had said, his father had died a hero and was probably in Heaven, a place Snape would never end up in, Moxxie was sure.

He might not be able to speak all the fancy Latin words these people knew or have a goddamn wooden dick in his hand to help him, but he could do something.

Focusing all his energy and anger, he let out a sudden and abrupt scream, and Snape went flying to the wall.

Luckily for him, he didn't pick up much speed as the wall had been quite close to him. But Moxxie was still pleased by the two thuds that Snape's body made against the stone, one as his back hit the wall and the other as his ass hit the floor.

The man toppled over like a worn-out doll. It was funny to see him disarmed.

He hoped he would cry. Moxxie wanted to put him in his place - he usually wasn't one to think that way, but the man was so impertinent, so infuriating, that the urge to show him that he was just an arrogant son of a bitch was too strong.

Though he had barely exchanged ten words with him all in all, and most were irrelevant, he felt sure that he was the kind to dwell on the pain he experienced and felt completely justified in his cold and bitter demeanor.

But he wanted him to understand that one second in Hell was worth more than twenty years of suffering in life and that he was inferior in pain to Moxxie if that was the game he wanted to play.

Moxxie tried not to smile as the man picked himself up. He dusted off his cloak spastically and then looked at him through a parting in his messed-up hair. "Unfocused. Unreliable.

You need a wand," he said gruffly, shoving the oil-pan of his hair to the side and heading to the door. He unlocked it and stepped outside, barely waiting for Moxxie, who was incredibly eager to leave and so hurried to the door. He stepped out just before Snape slammed it shut on his ass.

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The return to Dumbledore's office was exerting for Moxxie.

How in the hell did these people get used to climbing all those stairs? Was it a wizard thing?

Did they have some special, potent Gatorade that kept them going? Regardless, he tried his best not to pant heavily as he trudged up behind Snape, who didn't seem to have the slightest problem with it, stoic and grave as ever before.

But Moxxie wouldn't forget that pathetic look that he had had when Moxxie had knocked him on his ass, and he held it close to his heart as a fond memory he was sure to revisit many times.

He had always known he was capable of bursts of sudden, violent, and magical power, but he was very used to trying to repress them.

Even in serious, threatening situations, he feared revealing that he had that kind of power, lest it should draw attention to himself and land him in trouble.

God knew it had been incredibly hard keeping that kind of thing from Millie, of all people, who saw him at his highs and his extreme lows.

The kind of outburst he had just had he could control if he had the reins on his temper, but there were certain demonstrations of magic that he couldn't keep in check. Sometimes, if he truly willed something would happen, it would suddenly happen, and he couldn't account for it since he hadn't knowingly set his magic on it.

Those were scary moments in which he didn't trust himself: he didn't know what he was capable of, what his magic was subconsciously capable of if pushed to a limit. Luckily, it hadn't happened many times, but when it did, he always felt incredible relief, a sudden weight lifted from his chest.

He felt that way now after using long-repressed magic on this lump of lard. It was like that pleasant feeling after vomiting or taking off a backpack full of stones.

For the most part, though, he was so separate from that strange, mystical part of himself that that kind of pressure was never too great on him, and he rarely felt the urge to get rid of it.

Now, though, exposed as he was to what seemed to be everything he had ever suffocated in himself, it appeared to be easier to tap into, as he had done just before.

But along with the relief came a sort of exhaustion, and he was sure that if Snape tried him again, he wouldn't have the energy to procure that kind of magic again.

Snape, however, seemed completely fine. Maybe it was that he wasn't used to doing magic, and he had suddenly uncorked a bursting bottle of champagne, and maybe it even had to do with the absence of a wand.

But then again, did he even want one?

He didn't know what the cost or implications of using magic were, and he felt nervous just by imagining the inconceivable consequences of what little he had done to Snape.

If he was frank with himself, he didn't even want to know what the costs were because he wasn't interested, and he didn't want to do magic at all.

He wanted nothing to do with the strange world he had literally been sucked into. He followed behind Snape, attempting to dissimulate his huffing.

Looking at the dark back of the man's head, he tried to think of something that didn't have to do with magic.

Even the slightest thought of it made him anxious, and God knew he would already be forced to deal with it quite a bit in the near future.

The man before him seemed to sway to his own, parched rhythm, and as he looked for things to think about that didn't involve wands or magic.

It was then that he remembered Snape's little comment about his father. At the moment, he had merely taken it as an insult and gotten upset over it, but he hadn't really analyzed the implications of it.

It was clear that Snape knew his father, then, or at least knew of him.

Considering how messed up their timelines were, they could've easily been the same age, maybe even having gone to school together.

But Moxxie didn't know how many schools there were or if that was even possible. So, once again, he was overwhelmed by the amount of information that he didn't have.

In any case, if Snape really had known his father, then he had obviously hated or resented him. Moxxie couldn't imagine why, aside from the fact that Snape was probably odious to anyone who met him (hell, even anyone who chanced to be unfortunate enough to set eyes on him).

Arriving at Dumbledore's office in utter silence, they found the elderly man in an animate conversation with Millie, Blitzo, and Loona.

It was a rather odd sight, actually. "Ah, there you are. Done so soon?" Dumbledore remarked chirpily as they entered.

Though he hadn't seemed in a bad mood, to begin with, he was positively charmed, now. He was sitting behind his desk, Millie and Loona on the two chairs before it, Blitzo spread out on top of it, completely at his ease. "There was not much to evaluate, sir," Snape said curtly.

Moxxie could already feel the mood darkening around them, the black hole that was Snape sucking out all the light. "Mr. Potter here does not possess a wand." "Ah, I should have guessed," Dumbledore said, nodding. "But he does have magic." "Certainly," Snape replied bitterly. "Well, then.

I suppose the first step would be to get you a wand, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore told him. "I won't keep you any longer, Severus. I'm sure your students are anxious to see you." I'm sure they are, Moxxie kept to himself. Snape bent his head and then headed out without another word.

"I've been having quite a pleasant and informative chat with your companions here, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore remarked. "The old man's wild, Moxx, like those old guys in Jackass." "Pleasant? Really?" Moxxie asked Dumbledore, genuinely perplexed. "Oh, quite," was his answer.

"Now, if you might excuse me, I must make the preparations for your trip." "Trip? Back home?" Moxxie asked, hopeful but fully prepared to be shot down. "I'm afraid not, Mr. Potter. To Diagon Alley, in London.

I believe you shall find the wand you require there." Millie began shaking her head. "I'm not letting Moxxie go all the way to London by himself." "He will be accompanied by Hagrid, most likely." Millie shook her head again. "No way. I want to go with him." Dumbledore paused for a minute.

"Very well, then. I'll make the arrangements, but if it's too precarious to accompany him, you may not be able to go," he said severely. Millie silently acknowledged the terms. "Now, before you leave here, I must warn you not to wander the grounds in your Imp form," he looked pointedly at Moxxie over his spectacles.

"Especially not in the daytime. Perhaps a night outing might be allowed once the students are in bed, but that must be arranged with Professor McGonagall," he told them.

They all agreed to the terms, and they were just preparing to leave when Dumbledore calls out to Loona. "If I may, might I see your human form?"

He asked. Loon smiled at him naughtily and shifted into her human form. Maybe with a bit more difficult than Moxxie, but still rather quickly and efficiently.

Dumbledore gave a little smile as she saw her human form. "I suggest that if you, for any reason, need to leave your quarters, you should send either Loona or Mr. Potter. I will have professor McGonagall share further information about your travels.

And with that, they were dismissed, the McGonagall lady waiting at the door for them as if she'd been summoned telepathically.