SHOUT OUT: Before you all throw pitchforks at me, I would like to say in
self-defense that I haven't updated for ages because my stupid computer
crashed and had to be sent back to the mother ship. Then my brain crashed,
and I couldn't think of what to write. So I hope ya'll like this chapter,
and if you don't, blame it on the radiation from my cell phone.
INSIDE INFO: This chapter is bound to be full of errors of all sorts, as most of the chapters are. I'm not too good with the grammar and such, and my spelling is attroshush. DEAL WITH IT. MWUAHAHAHAHAHAHA. *ahem. sorry*
RECAP: Harry ran into Oliver Wood, who acted strangely. Oliver tried to get Cho interested in Harry, but that didn't go well. Then Ron and Hermione found Harry and threw heavy books at him. Harry fell to the floor.
SPOILERS: Stuff about book 3 is revealed.
BY THE WAY…
Did you know that it's pretty hard to write Snape?
Chapter 8: Whatever's in the Potion Can't Taste Worse than Pepsi One
After Harry regained his strength, The Three Blind Potters shuffled down to the dungeon, books in hand.
"You sure you want to do this, Harry?" Ron asked, freckles pale with worry.
Harry nodded firmly. "I must." And then, he heard another voice. A cold, unnerving voice, barely audible…
…*kill…rip…tear…eat a sandwich…*…
Harry paused, stood very still, and craned his neck in the direction of the noise.
"Harry, what is it?" Hermione asked with a bit of fright in her voice. "What do you hear?"
"Is it a snake, Harry?" Ron asked.
"SHH!" Harry snapped. "I can't hear it anymore. It went away. Just give me a sec."
Harry shut his eyes and concentrated hard on where he last heard the voice. It wasn't from behind him. It didn't sound like it was to the right or left of him either. And it didn't sound as though it were coming from the walls.
…*need fresh meat…need fresh blood…find me fresh blood…and maybe a glass of milk…*…
"You two don't hear that?!" Harry asked, close to shrieking.
Hermione and Ron shook their heads.
"It's asking me to kill someone…to find it blood…and
I think to make it lunch…"
"Harry, it's been a long week," Hermione reasoned. "I'm sure it was nothing."
…*the girl lies…fear me…kill for me…buy me comic books…*…
"You know what? I am SO sick of hearing strange voices. Let's just forget about it!" Harry stormed off in the direction of Snape's office.
"I already have," Ron confirmed, with a silly grin on his face. Hermione rolled her eyes. "Seriously, though, what just happened?" he asked.
Harry took a deep breath and knocked on the door.
"Enter…" came the stoic reply.
Weary and nervous, the young Gryffindors did.
"Mr. Potter," Snape sneered in his cold voice. "Our new…celebrity."
"Good afternoon, Professor Snape," Harry said, determined to keep his cool.
"Oh, and look…Potter's brought his little…friends…along for the ride. Weasley," Snape shot a murderous glance towards Ron, "And Granger." Snape shot the same look towards Hermione.
"Yes, well, here we are, and we're ready to concoct the potion," Harry said.
"Dandy. Tell me, Mr. Potter…were you careful to shred the wormwood in thin, diagonal slices?"
"Yes sir," Harry said coolly, procuring a jar of several diagonally shredded wormwood slices from his bag.
"And were you cautious enough to boil the shrivelfigs so they browned to a light caramel color?"
"We most certainly did, Professor," said Harry smugly, taking another jar from his bag containing shrivelfig.
"Well…did you…did you mash the acknolle nuts to a fine red powder?"
"Er…what?"
"The acknolle nuts, Potter, the acknolle nuts!"
Harry rummaged through his back and looked to Hermione and Ron for support, who looked at him confused, and shrugged.
"Sir…I…I don't think I have the 'acknolle nuts'…"
"Pity." Snape grinned evilly, and lit a fire under a cauldron resting on the desk in front of him. "Place your ingredients on the table, please."
Harry obliged, and stepped up to the desk, as did Ron and Hermione.
"Oh, and by the way, Potter," Snape said, emptying a pot of water into the cauldron, "There is no such thing as an 'acknolle nut'."
"So you just made it up?" Harry asked incredulously.
"Yes," Snape said, snickering.
"Why?" Harry asked.
"To make you…feel…as thick-witted…as you really are," Snape drawled, stretching awkward pauses in between random words.
"You really showed me there, Professor," Harry muttered.
"What was that?" Snape demanded sharply.
"I said, 'I really like your hair, Professor'." Harry said quickly.
Snape paused for a moment. "Shut up!" he hissed. "I will not take any insolence from you today, Mr. Potter."
"Good," Harry said coolly, "Because I plan on not giving you anything."
"Ooooo," Ron hooted. "Potter: one, Snape: nothing!"
Hermione whapped Ron across the head with a Cornish game hen. "Shhh!" she scolded.
Snape cast a load of murderous glances across the room. "Now," he began, "We shall wait for the water to boil, and then add the shrivelfig."
Harry sat placidly on a stool. Hermione and Ron shifted their weight awkwardly, and finally settled on sitting in chairs around the desk. Snape cast another murderous glance (for good luck) and slid into the chair behind the desk.
No one spoke.
"So…" Ron began. "Don't you hate it when your pet turns out to be an evil wizard?"
Everyone chose to ignore him.
Harry cleared his throat. "Professor, we have the necessary books to aide you with the process. We checked out 'Curses for Dummies' and 'Curses for Dummies: Cliffnotes' out of the library."
Snape sneered. "Mr. Potter…I don't need books. I know exactly what I'm doing…exactly."
"Professor Snape!" Hermione gasped, eyes wide and pointing at something.
"Not now, Granger," Snape hissed, keeping his deep eyes on Harry. "What I know about potions…would make the Dark Lord himself…blush…with the embarrassment of not knowing enough. When it comes to potions…Mr. Potter…I…know…everything."
"Professor!!"
"I can take…the most delicate flower…and turn it into…a fiery flame. I brew liquids…powerful enough to crush a man…after two sips. I can do things you've only…dreamed of…and things that would make you…have…nightmares. I don't need your book…Potter. I know what I'm doing. I know…everything. I have…everything…under control."
"PROFESSOR!"
Snape snapped his gaze on Hermione. "What IS IT, Granger?"
"YOUR ROBE'S ON FIRE!!!"
Snape looked in the direction of Hermione's outstretched finger, which was pointed at the cuff of his sleeve. Sure enough, an orange flame was dancing on his arm. But Snape, cool and collected as ever, simply pointed his wand at the flame and whispered "Aquarius aquannious." A fine jet of water flowed from the tip of his wand and quenched the rising flames.
"Aw Hermione, you should have let him burn," Ron whispered.
"Jell-O confoundus!" Snape chanted.
A mountain of Jell-O fell on Ron.
"Check the cauldron," Snape ordered.
Harry peered into the simmering cauldron, catching a whiff of the odorous fumes. "It smells like Dobby," Ron whispered, wrinkling his nose, and heaving clumps of Jell-O off of him.
"Mr. Potter…if you could please add the shrivelfig…carefully."
"Yes, Professor Snape," Harry said in a false cloying tone. With caution, Harry placed the scoop of delicately sliced shrivelfig into the cauldron.
"Mmm…smells…intoxicating," Snape sighed eerily.
"Yes…it sure does, Professor," Harry lied.
"I just love the scent of freshly boiled shrivelfig. It reminds me of the carefree days of my youth…" Snape's eyes glossed over.
"Professor…are you all right?" Harry asked.
But Snape was long gone. He was staring at the wall in front of him, with a vacant expression, mouth slightly open, eyes moist. "Mommy…" he whispered.
-Cue flashback-
"Severus, dear, don't pat the bunny, you don't know where he's been!" warned a tall pale woman, with dark hair knotted in a greasy bun.
"But mommy dear, I like the fluffy bunny!" said the precocious five year old, with long stringy hair, clutching a shrivelfig sandwich.
The woman laughed. "I know you do, sweetie. But the bunny could be mean."
"Oh mumsy, nothing could be mean in such a beautiful world!" the tot proclaimed, flinging his arms into the bright blue sky.
His exclamation scared the young rabbit. The bunny lifted his white legs in the air, and began charging at the pale woman.
The toddler gasped as he saw the white rabbit dive for his mother. "Mommy, look out!"
The woman screamed as the bunny flew into the air in her direction and wrapped it's thumping legs around her neck. "AAAGGHHHH!"
"MOMMY!" screamed the little boy.
The bunny sank its teeth deep into her neck. She let out a gasp, and collapsed to the earth.
"NOOOOO!!!" the boy screamed. He charged to the bunny, picked him up, and threw him as far as he could. Which was about ten centimeters. Undaunted, the rabbit charged right back at the boy, and pounced on his nose.
"AGGHH!" he screamed, as the fluffy bunny punched his nose.
The little boy fell beside his mom, and the bunny hopped away, chuckling madly.
-End-
"Mommy…come back…" Snape whispered, a tear sliding down his cheek.
"Harry, this is bad!" Hermione decided.
"Really? I thought it was jolly good!" Ron responded sarcastically.
"Was I TALKING to you, Ron?" Hermione snapped. "You better watch yourself, Ron. I've got foods stuffed up my sleeve you've never even heard of. Ever wonder what it's like to be slapped in the face with a honey- glazed pork chop? I can arrange that, you know. Go ahead Ron. Keep making your funny little jokes. I guess it call comes down to this: you feelin' lucky, punk? You feelin' lucky? Because I guarantee you, if you're talkin' to me, you'll wish you would have never been born. Go head, Weasley. Make my day."
Ron, half frightened and half ready to burst out laughing, decided it would be best not to respond to the slightly crazed Hermione.
"Look, if you two want to leave, go ahead," Harry hissed. "But I simply cannot go on like this. I mean, just LOOK at my hair!"
Hermione glanced at Ron, and they nodded. "Harry, we understand," Hermione said. Then she shot a glance at Ron and hissed "NOW!" With that signal, they both ran out of the room, like fluffy bunnies, and slammed the door behind them.
Harry sighed. "Nice bunch of friends you lot are!" He yelled to them. Snape was still in his trance.
"Professor?" Harry tried, but no such luck. He shrugged and began to tap dance. Immediately, Snape snapped out of his trance.
"Potter, what are you doing?" he snarled.
"Just a little spontaneous dancing, sir."
Snape gave Harry a cold, hard stare. "Add the wormwood," he ordered. Harry did so.
"Professor, are you all right?" Harry asked, curiosity getting the best of him.
"I'm fine, Potter, but I appreciate you…looking out…for my health." The smell of simmering wormwood procured another memory from Snape's mind, and he once again succumbed to what he tried so hard to forget…
-Cut to Flashback- ("Not again", Harry muttered.)
"Daddy, is mumsy going to die?"
"Shut up…and eat your…shrivelfig stew," ordered a tall brooding man with sallow skin.
"Daddy, I don't like shrivelfig anymore. May I have some of your tossed wormwood salad?"
"No."
The toddler pouted. "You're mean."
An elderly doctor entered the small dining room, a frown pasted on his weary face.
"I'm afraid your wife's health is in critical condition."
"Severus, go to your room," the tall man ordered.
"No!"
"Severus…" the man warned, giving his son a cold, hard stare.
The little boy pushed his food away and ran upstairs. He paused, and slowly crept back down, stopping near the foot of the staircase to listen.
"So does she have a chance?" the tall man asked.
The doctor sighed. "It's looking grim. The infection has spread to nearly every aspect of her body."
The tall man held his head in his hands. "I just don't understand how anyone could die from a rabbit mauling. It doesn't make sense."
"You are indeed correct. This is an extremely rare case of animal insanity. Apparently, the rabbit was startled and went 'crazy'. However, usually the rabbits overcome these sort of things and proceed merrily on their way."
"But it attacked my wife and son brutally, gnawing on their necks and noses."
"Yes…well…err…" the doctor ruffled through the stack of worn papers attached to his wooden clipboard. "Ah, yes, this rabbit had a case of… 'bunny fever'."
"You just made that up."
"No I didn't."
"Then may I see your clipboard?"
"Ah, no."
"Why not?"
"Because it's mine."
"Give me that blasted clipboard!"
"No!"
"Wingardium leviosa!"
"Hey! Give that back!"
The toddler watched in silence as his father wrestled with the doctor over the clipboard. He then crept up to bed.
The young greasy youth lay quietly in bed, staring at the ceiling. "Why did this happen?" he whispered.
"I dunno," said the mirror above his dresser.
"I was such a good little boy, and mommy was such a good woman. Why do bad things happen to good people?"
"Search me."
The little boy sat up in bed, arms folded. "Well, if bad things happen to good people, then do good things happen to bad people?"
"Sure, whatever."
"They must!" The little boy got out of bed and walked to the mirror. He paused in front of it, studying the wound on his now crooked nose. "From now on, I will be bad," he declared.
"You got it, bro," the mirror cheered.
"Shut up!" the little boy cursed. He grabbed a boot near his bed and flung it at the mirror.
"Dude, not cool!" the mirror yelled, but to no avail. The boot hit the mirror and broke it into hundreds of shimmering shards.
"No more mister nice boy!"
-End-
"Professor?" Harry asked. Snape grumbled, but did not lift his head from his hands.
"Professor, perhaps I should go…" Harry suggested.
"Mr. Potter, get back here," Snape said hoarsely. "We're almost done." With extreme unusual haste and carelessness, Snape flung the remaining potions into the boiling pot. He stirred vigorously, the poured it all into a large bottle. He swished the liquid around (which looked just absolutely disgusting, like troll bogeys) and poured some into a small vial, which he tossed to Harry. "Drink," he commanded.
"But it's boiling hot!" Harry protested, looking at the potion and feeling sick.
"It will taste ice cold."
"But-
"I said drink it!"
Harry closed his eyes and drank the contents of the vial. He shivered as the chopped iciness forced its way down his throat, leaving an aftertaste of hairspray.
"Now get out," Snape snapped, as he pushed Harry out then slammed the door in his face.
Harry stormed over to Hermione and Ron, who were clustered in a corner quivering with laughter and fear of Harry's lashing.
"So…did Snape help ya some?" Ron asked, giggling.
"Real funny Ron," Harry snapped.
"Oh Harry, we're sorry for abandoning you, but we just couldn't take the awkwardness any longer," Hermione apologized.
"I honestly don't understand why I'm still chums with you two."
"Oh you know why, Harry. You need two completely opposite sidekicks to assist you on your journeys."
"You want some Jell-O?" Ron asked, grabbing a handful from his pocket.
"No Ron, I honestly don't." Harry sighed, and ran his hand over his hair, which promptly got stuck within the mass of tangles.
"Great. Perfect," he muttered. "If you two don't mind I think I need to be alone for a while." Harry, in a rather depressed state, sulked away from his two best friends, right hand stuck in his hair. He shuffled up the dungeon stairs, down the hall, and outside into the courtyard.
"Why does this happen to me??" He asked, pleading with the world to provide an answer.
POW!
Harry fell to the floor hard. "HEDWIG! You prat! Watch where you're flying!"
Hedwig rolled her eyes and resumed flight. Harry picked himself off the floor, delivery in hand. It was a letter.
Using his teeth and left hand, Harry managed to tear it open. It said this:
"Dear Harry,
It's me again! How are you doing? Is your hair getting any better? I know you probably think it looks horrid and shameful, but it reminds me of spring! I just love what you've done with it! If I had a hamster, I would name him Harry Pootsie! You're such a pootsie wootsie, Potter Wotter! If only we could be together, away from prying eyes, I would show you how much you mean to me, by doing a little dance I invented myself! It's called the Potter Shuffle of Happiness! Let us meet on Friday, after the Quidditch game! I'll be in the Quidditch shed, wearing a great big heart made of butter!
Until then, my sweet apple blossom!
Love,
Your Secret Love Bunny"
"Perfect," Harry sighed. "It doesn't get much better than this."
"WRONG!!!" chorused a pair of voices from behind. "IT'S GRED AND FEORGE TIME!!!!!"
Harry turned around. "Hullo Fred. Hullo George."
"WHY IS YOUR HAND IN YOUR HAIR??" the duo asked.
"Why are you two yelling?"
"WHY AREN'T YOU YELLING?"
"Can you two help me?"
"WHAT DO YOU WANT US TO DO?" hollered Fred.
"Maybe you could pull my hand out of my hair?" Harry asked.
"WHAT IF WE CAN'T DO IT?" George screamed.
"Why don't you just try?"
Fred and George shrugged. They skipped over to Harry, and gave a great tug on his arm. After much grunting, they pulled his hand out of his hair, with a loud pop, and Harry yanking several strands out of his head.
"DID THAT HURT?" Fred bellowed.
"What do you think?"
"HARRY, DID YOU HEAR ABOUT THE QUIDDITCH GAME ON FRIDAY?" George whooped.
"I did, but is it true that we have to play on each other's shoulders?"
"DOESN'T THAT BLOODY SUCK?" Fred roared.
"School funding was so bad that they had to take away our brooms?"
"DO YOU THINK MAYBE WE'LL GET THEM BACK ONE DAY?" George shouted.
"Why are you asking me?"
"WHY ARE YOU ASKING HIM, GEORGE?" Fred brawled.
"WHY ARE YOU ASKING ME WHY I ASKED HIM?" George hooted.
"Why is it that we're only speaking in questions?" Harry questioned.
"WHY DO YOU CARE?" Fred hallooed.
"What is WRONG with you two?" Harry cried helplessly.
"HOW DO YOU FIGURE?" they screeched.
"CAN EVERYBODY JUST SHUT UP???" shrieked Madam Hooch.
Harry ran away.
"WHY IS IT THAT EVERYBODY CAN ONLY SPEAK IN QUESTIONS WHEN TALKING TO YOU TWO?" whined Madam Hooch.
"DO YOU THINK IT'S SOME DARK FORCE?" George squealed.
"CAN YOU PASS THE SALTY FIGS?" Dumbledore called from his tower.
Breathing heavily, Harry ran all the way up to his dormitory and collapsed on his bed. "Why am I always running?" he asked.
...*…kill…feed me…put a record on, I wanna dance with my baby…*…
"Who are you?? Where are you??" Harry demanded.
…*…do not ask questions…we're done with the question thing, get out of that mode, it's really starting to annoy people…*…
"Sorry. But please, tell me, who are you?"
"Harry, it's me, Neville Longbottom!" said Neville, from his bed.
"Neville, I wasn't talking to you!" Harry paused to listen. "Now it's gone."
"What's gone, Harry?"
"My sanity. AND WHEN IS THIS BLOODY CHAPTER GOING TO END?? IT'S BEEN GOING ON FOR PAGES AND PAGES AND-
EnD.
DISCLAIMERS: I do not own the Harry Potter characters. They're J.K. Rowling's folk. I also don't own rights to Cliffnotes, or the "For Dummies" book series, Pepsi One, or Madonna's lyrics, or anything I mentioned. The only thing I do own is the phrase "Secret Love Bunny".
NUMBER OF TIMES RON WAS HIT WITH FOOD: 2
IS THE JOKE GETTING OLD?: Yes
WILL I GET RID OF IT?: No way, I find it far too amusing.
WHAT DO YOU THINK RON SHOULD BE HIT WITH?
I got a request for spaghetti. I'll try to work that in next time. If anyone has an idea, post it!
INSIDE INFO: This chapter is bound to be full of errors of all sorts, as most of the chapters are. I'm not too good with the grammar and such, and my spelling is attroshush. DEAL WITH IT. MWUAHAHAHAHAHAHA. *ahem. sorry*
RECAP: Harry ran into Oliver Wood, who acted strangely. Oliver tried to get Cho interested in Harry, but that didn't go well. Then Ron and Hermione found Harry and threw heavy books at him. Harry fell to the floor.
SPOILERS: Stuff about book 3 is revealed.
BY THE WAY…
Did you know that it's pretty hard to write Snape?
Chapter 8: Whatever's in the Potion Can't Taste Worse than Pepsi One
After Harry regained his strength, The Three Blind Potters shuffled down to the dungeon, books in hand.
"You sure you want to do this, Harry?" Ron asked, freckles pale with worry.
Harry nodded firmly. "I must." And then, he heard another voice. A cold, unnerving voice, barely audible…
…*kill…rip…tear…eat a sandwich…*…
Harry paused, stood very still, and craned his neck in the direction of the noise.
"Harry, what is it?" Hermione asked with a bit of fright in her voice. "What do you hear?"
"Is it a snake, Harry?" Ron asked.
"SHH!" Harry snapped. "I can't hear it anymore. It went away. Just give me a sec."
Harry shut his eyes and concentrated hard on where he last heard the voice. It wasn't from behind him. It didn't sound like it was to the right or left of him either. And it didn't sound as though it were coming from the walls.
…*need fresh meat…need fresh blood…find me fresh blood…and maybe a glass of milk…*…
"You two don't hear that?!" Harry asked, close to shrieking.
Hermione and Ron shook their heads.
"It's asking me to kill someone…to find it blood…and
I think to make it lunch…"
"Harry, it's been a long week," Hermione reasoned. "I'm sure it was nothing."
…*the girl lies…fear me…kill for me…buy me comic books…*…
"You know what? I am SO sick of hearing strange voices. Let's just forget about it!" Harry stormed off in the direction of Snape's office.
"I already have," Ron confirmed, with a silly grin on his face. Hermione rolled her eyes. "Seriously, though, what just happened?" he asked.
Harry took a deep breath and knocked on the door.
"Enter…" came the stoic reply.
Weary and nervous, the young Gryffindors did.
"Mr. Potter," Snape sneered in his cold voice. "Our new…celebrity."
"Good afternoon, Professor Snape," Harry said, determined to keep his cool.
"Oh, and look…Potter's brought his little…friends…along for the ride. Weasley," Snape shot a murderous glance towards Ron, "And Granger." Snape shot the same look towards Hermione.
"Yes, well, here we are, and we're ready to concoct the potion," Harry said.
"Dandy. Tell me, Mr. Potter…were you careful to shred the wormwood in thin, diagonal slices?"
"Yes sir," Harry said coolly, procuring a jar of several diagonally shredded wormwood slices from his bag.
"And were you cautious enough to boil the shrivelfigs so they browned to a light caramel color?"
"We most certainly did, Professor," said Harry smugly, taking another jar from his bag containing shrivelfig.
"Well…did you…did you mash the acknolle nuts to a fine red powder?"
"Er…what?"
"The acknolle nuts, Potter, the acknolle nuts!"
Harry rummaged through his back and looked to Hermione and Ron for support, who looked at him confused, and shrugged.
"Sir…I…I don't think I have the 'acknolle nuts'…"
"Pity." Snape grinned evilly, and lit a fire under a cauldron resting on the desk in front of him. "Place your ingredients on the table, please."
Harry obliged, and stepped up to the desk, as did Ron and Hermione.
"Oh, and by the way, Potter," Snape said, emptying a pot of water into the cauldron, "There is no such thing as an 'acknolle nut'."
"So you just made it up?" Harry asked incredulously.
"Yes," Snape said, snickering.
"Why?" Harry asked.
"To make you…feel…as thick-witted…as you really are," Snape drawled, stretching awkward pauses in between random words.
"You really showed me there, Professor," Harry muttered.
"What was that?" Snape demanded sharply.
"I said, 'I really like your hair, Professor'." Harry said quickly.
Snape paused for a moment. "Shut up!" he hissed. "I will not take any insolence from you today, Mr. Potter."
"Good," Harry said coolly, "Because I plan on not giving you anything."
"Ooooo," Ron hooted. "Potter: one, Snape: nothing!"
Hermione whapped Ron across the head with a Cornish game hen. "Shhh!" she scolded.
Snape cast a load of murderous glances across the room. "Now," he began, "We shall wait for the water to boil, and then add the shrivelfig."
Harry sat placidly on a stool. Hermione and Ron shifted their weight awkwardly, and finally settled on sitting in chairs around the desk. Snape cast another murderous glance (for good luck) and slid into the chair behind the desk.
No one spoke.
"So…" Ron began. "Don't you hate it when your pet turns out to be an evil wizard?"
Everyone chose to ignore him.
Harry cleared his throat. "Professor, we have the necessary books to aide you with the process. We checked out 'Curses for Dummies' and 'Curses for Dummies: Cliffnotes' out of the library."
Snape sneered. "Mr. Potter…I don't need books. I know exactly what I'm doing…exactly."
"Professor Snape!" Hermione gasped, eyes wide and pointing at something.
"Not now, Granger," Snape hissed, keeping his deep eyes on Harry. "What I know about potions…would make the Dark Lord himself…blush…with the embarrassment of not knowing enough. When it comes to potions…Mr. Potter…I…know…everything."
"Professor!!"
"I can take…the most delicate flower…and turn it into…a fiery flame. I brew liquids…powerful enough to crush a man…after two sips. I can do things you've only…dreamed of…and things that would make you…have…nightmares. I don't need your book…Potter. I know what I'm doing. I know…everything. I have…everything…under control."
"PROFESSOR!"
Snape snapped his gaze on Hermione. "What IS IT, Granger?"
"YOUR ROBE'S ON FIRE!!!"
Snape looked in the direction of Hermione's outstretched finger, which was pointed at the cuff of his sleeve. Sure enough, an orange flame was dancing on his arm. But Snape, cool and collected as ever, simply pointed his wand at the flame and whispered "Aquarius aquannious." A fine jet of water flowed from the tip of his wand and quenched the rising flames.
"Aw Hermione, you should have let him burn," Ron whispered.
"Jell-O confoundus!" Snape chanted.
A mountain of Jell-O fell on Ron.
"Check the cauldron," Snape ordered.
Harry peered into the simmering cauldron, catching a whiff of the odorous fumes. "It smells like Dobby," Ron whispered, wrinkling his nose, and heaving clumps of Jell-O off of him.
"Mr. Potter…if you could please add the shrivelfig…carefully."
"Yes, Professor Snape," Harry said in a false cloying tone. With caution, Harry placed the scoop of delicately sliced shrivelfig into the cauldron.
"Mmm…smells…intoxicating," Snape sighed eerily.
"Yes…it sure does, Professor," Harry lied.
"I just love the scent of freshly boiled shrivelfig. It reminds me of the carefree days of my youth…" Snape's eyes glossed over.
"Professor…are you all right?" Harry asked.
But Snape was long gone. He was staring at the wall in front of him, with a vacant expression, mouth slightly open, eyes moist. "Mommy…" he whispered.
-Cue flashback-
"Severus, dear, don't pat the bunny, you don't know where he's been!" warned a tall pale woman, with dark hair knotted in a greasy bun.
"But mommy dear, I like the fluffy bunny!" said the precocious five year old, with long stringy hair, clutching a shrivelfig sandwich.
The woman laughed. "I know you do, sweetie. But the bunny could be mean."
"Oh mumsy, nothing could be mean in such a beautiful world!" the tot proclaimed, flinging his arms into the bright blue sky.
His exclamation scared the young rabbit. The bunny lifted his white legs in the air, and began charging at the pale woman.
The toddler gasped as he saw the white rabbit dive for his mother. "Mommy, look out!"
The woman screamed as the bunny flew into the air in her direction and wrapped it's thumping legs around her neck. "AAAGGHHHH!"
"MOMMY!" screamed the little boy.
The bunny sank its teeth deep into her neck. She let out a gasp, and collapsed to the earth.
"NOOOOO!!!" the boy screamed. He charged to the bunny, picked him up, and threw him as far as he could. Which was about ten centimeters. Undaunted, the rabbit charged right back at the boy, and pounced on his nose.
"AGGHH!" he screamed, as the fluffy bunny punched his nose.
The little boy fell beside his mom, and the bunny hopped away, chuckling madly.
-End-
"Mommy…come back…" Snape whispered, a tear sliding down his cheek.
"Harry, this is bad!" Hermione decided.
"Really? I thought it was jolly good!" Ron responded sarcastically.
"Was I TALKING to you, Ron?" Hermione snapped. "You better watch yourself, Ron. I've got foods stuffed up my sleeve you've never even heard of. Ever wonder what it's like to be slapped in the face with a honey- glazed pork chop? I can arrange that, you know. Go ahead Ron. Keep making your funny little jokes. I guess it call comes down to this: you feelin' lucky, punk? You feelin' lucky? Because I guarantee you, if you're talkin' to me, you'll wish you would have never been born. Go head, Weasley. Make my day."
Ron, half frightened and half ready to burst out laughing, decided it would be best not to respond to the slightly crazed Hermione.
"Look, if you two want to leave, go ahead," Harry hissed. "But I simply cannot go on like this. I mean, just LOOK at my hair!"
Hermione glanced at Ron, and they nodded. "Harry, we understand," Hermione said. Then she shot a glance at Ron and hissed "NOW!" With that signal, they both ran out of the room, like fluffy bunnies, and slammed the door behind them.
Harry sighed. "Nice bunch of friends you lot are!" He yelled to them. Snape was still in his trance.
"Professor?" Harry tried, but no such luck. He shrugged and began to tap dance. Immediately, Snape snapped out of his trance.
"Potter, what are you doing?" he snarled.
"Just a little spontaneous dancing, sir."
Snape gave Harry a cold, hard stare. "Add the wormwood," he ordered. Harry did so.
"Professor, are you all right?" Harry asked, curiosity getting the best of him.
"I'm fine, Potter, but I appreciate you…looking out…for my health." The smell of simmering wormwood procured another memory from Snape's mind, and he once again succumbed to what he tried so hard to forget…
-Cut to Flashback- ("Not again", Harry muttered.)
"Daddy, is mumsy going to die?"
"Shut up…and eat your…shrivelfig stew," ordered a tall brooding man with sallow skin.
"Daddy, I don't like shrivelfig anymore. May I have some of your tossed wormwood salad?"
"No."
The toddler pouted. "You're mean."
An elderly doctor entered the small dining room, a frown pasted on his weary face.
"I'm afraid your wife's health is in critical condition."
"Severus, go to your room," the tall man ordered.
"No!"
"Severus…" the man warned, giving his son a cold, hard stare.
The little boy pushed his food away and ran upstairs. He paused, and slowly crept back down, stopping near the foot of the staircase to listen.
"So does she have a chance?" the tall man asked.
The doctor sighed. "It's looking grim. The infection has spread to nearly every aspect of her body."
The tall man held his head in his hands. "I just don't understand how anyone could die from a rabbit mauling. It doesn't make sense."
"You are indeed correct. This is an extremely rare case of animal insanity. Apparently, the rabbit was startled and went 'crazy'. However, usually the rabbits overcome these sort of things and proceed merrily on their way."
"But it attacked my wife and son brutally, gnawing on their necks and noses."
"Yes…well…err…" the doctor ruffled through the stack of worn papers attached to his wooden clipboard. "Ah, yes, this rabbit had a case of… 'bunny fever'."
"You just made that up."
"No I didn't."
"Then may I see your clipboard?"
"Ah, no."
"Why not?"
"Because it's mine."
"Give me that blasted clipboard!"
"No!"
"Wingardium leviosa!"
"Hey! Give that back!"
The toddler watched in silence as his father wrestled with the doctor over the clipboard. He then crept up to bed.
The young greasy youth lay quietly in bed, staring at the ceiling. "Why did this happen?" he whispered.
"I dunno," said the mirror above his dresser.
"I was such a good little boy, and mommy was such a good woman. Why do bad things happen to good people?"
"Search me."
The little boy sat up in bed, arms folded. "Well, if bad things happen to good people, then do good things happen to bad people?"
"Sure, whatever."
"They must!" The little boy got out of bed and walked to the mirror. He paused in front of it, studying the wound on his now crooked nose. "From now on, I will be bad," he declared.
"You got it, bro," the mirror cheered.
"Shut up!" the little boy cursed. He grabbed a boot near his bed and flung it at the mirror.
"Dude, not cool!" the mirror yelled, but to no avail. The boot hit the mirror and broke it into hundreds of shimmering shards.
"No more mister nice boy!"
-End-
"Professor?" Harry asked. Snape grumbled, but did not lift his head from his hands.
"Professor, perhaps I should go…" Harry suggested.
"Mr. Potter, get back here," Snape said hoarsely. "We're almost done." With extreme unusual haste and carelessness, Snape flung the remaining potions into the boiling pot. He stirred vigorously, the poured it all into a large bottle. He swished the liquid around (which looked just absolutely disgusting, like troll bogeys) and poured some into a small vial, which he tossed to Harry. "Drink," he commanded.
"But it's boiling hot!" Harry protested, looking at the potion and feeling sick.
"It will taste ice cold."
"But-
"I said drink it!"
Harry closed his eyes and drank the contents of the vial. He shivered as the chopped iciness forced its way down his throat, leaving an aftertaste of hairspray.
"Now get out," Snape snapped, as he pushed Harry out then slammed the door in his face.
Harry stormed over to Hermione and Ron, who were clustered in a corner quivering with laughter and fear of Harry's lashing.
"So…did Snape help ya some?" Ron asked, giggling.
"Real funny Ron," Harry snapped.
"Oh Harry, we're sorry for abandoning you, but we just couldn't take the awkwardness any longer," Hermione apologized.
"I honestly don't understand why I'm still chums with you two."
"Oh you know why, Harry. You need two completely opposite sidekicks to assist you on your journeys."
"You want some Jell-O?" Ron asked, grabbing a handful from his pocket.
"No Ron, I honestly don't." Harry sighed, and ran his hand over his hair, which promptly got stuck within the mass of tangles.
"Great. Perfect," he muttered. "If you two don't mind I think I need to be alone for a while." Harry, in a rather depressed state, sulked away from his two best friends, right hand stuck in his hair. He shuffled up the dungeon stairs, down the hall, and outside into the courtyard.
"Why does this happen to me??" He asked, pleading with the world to provide an answer.
POW!
Harry fell to the floor hard. "HEDWIG! You prat! Watch where you're flying!"
Hedwig rolled her eyes and resumed flight. Harry picked himself off the floor, delivery in hand. It was a letter.
Using his teeth and left hand, Harry managed to tear it open. It said this:
"Dear Harry,
It's me again! How are you doing? Is your hair getting any better? I know you probably think it looks horrid and shameful, but it reminds me of spring! I just love what you've done with it! If I had a hamster, I would name him Harry Pootsie! You're such a pootsie wootsie, Potter Wotter! If only we could be together, away from prying eyes, I would show you how much you mean to me, by doing a little dance I invented myself! It's called the Potter Shuffle of Happiness! Let us meet on Friday, after the Quidditch game! I'll be in the Quidditch shed, wearing a great big heart made of butter!
Until then, my sweet apple blossom!
Love,
Your Secret Love Bunny"
"Perfect," Harry sighed. "It doesn't get much better than this."
"WRONG!!!" chorused a pair of voices from behind. "IT'S GRED AND FEORGE TIME!!!!!"
Harry turned around. "Hullo Fred. Hullo George."
"WHY IS YOUR HAND IN YOUR HAIR??" the duo asked.
"Why are you two yelling?"
"WHY AREN'T YOU YELLING?"
"Can you two help me?"
"WHAT DO YOU WANT US TO DO?" hollered Fred.
"Maybe you could pull my hand out of my hair?" Harry asked.
"WHAT IF WE CAN'T DO IT?" George screamed.
"Why don't you just try?"
Fred and George shrugged. They skipped over to Harry, and gave a great tug on his arm. After much grunting, they pulled his hand out of his hair, with a loud pop, and Harry yanking several strands out of his head.
"DID THAT HURT?" Fred bellowed.
"What do you think?"
"HARRY, DID YOU HEAR ABOUT THE QUIDDITCH GAME ON FRIDAY?" George whooped.
"I did, but is it true that we have to play on each other's shoulders?"
"DOESN'T THAT BLOODY SUCK?" Fred roared.
"School funding was so bad that they had to take away our brooms?"
"DO YOU THINK MAYBE WE'LL GET THEM BACK ONE DAY?" George shouted.
"Why are you asking me?"
"WHY ARE YOU ASKING HIM, GEORGE?" Fred brawled.
"WHY ARE YOU ASKING ME WHY I ASKED HIM?" George hooted.
"Why is it that we're only speaking in questions?" Harry questioned.
"WHY DO YOU CARE?" Fred hallooed.
"What is WRONG with you two?" Harry cried helplessly.
"HOW DO YOU FIGURE?" they screeched.
"CAN EVERYBODY JUST SHUT UP???" shrieked Madam Hooch.
Harry ran away.
"WHY IS IT THAT EVERYBODY CAN ONLY SPEAK IN QUESTIONS WHEN TALKING TO YOU TWO?" whined Madam Hooch.
"DO YOU THINK IT'S SOME DARK FORCE?" George squealed.
"CAN YOU PASS THE SALTY FIGS?" Dumbledore called from his tower.
Breathing heavily, Harry ran all the way up to his dormitory and collapsed on his bed. "Why am I always running?" he asked.
...*…kill…feed me…put a record on, I wanna dance with my baby…*…
"Who are you?? Where are you??" Harry demanded.
…*…do not ask questions…we're done with the question thing, get out of that mode, it's really starting to annoy people…*…
"Sorry. But please, tell me, who are you?"
"Harry, it's me, Neville Longbottom!" said Neville, from his bed.
"Neville, I wasn't talking to you!" Harry paused to listen. "Now it's gone."
"What's gone, Harry?"
"My sanity. AND WHEN IS THIS BLOODY CHAPTER GOING TO END?? IT'S BEEN GOING ON FOR PAGES AND PAGES AND-
EnD.
DISCLAIMERS: I do not own the Harry Potter characters. They're J.K. Rowling's folk. I also don't own rights to Cliffnotes, or the "For Dummies" book series, Pepsi One, or Madonna's lyrics, or anything I mentioned. The only thing I do own is the phrase "Secret Love Bunny".
NUMBER OF TIMES RON WAS HIT WITH FOOD: 2
IS THE JOKE GETTING OLD?: Yes
WILL I GET RID OF IT?: No way, I find it far too amusing.
WHAT DO YOU THINK RON SHOULD BE HIT WITH?
I got a request for spaghetti. I'll try to work that in next time. If anyone has an idea, post it!
