Author's Note: What up all? Now presenting the new and, if possible, more psychotic chapter. You'll love it. I can't read it without laughing, and I wrote it. Of course, we're high on a Venti Java Chip Frappucino at the moment, but whatever. Anywho….I don't really have anything else to say, but we thought we should have something for an author's note, so this is it. I hope you enjoyed it. By the way, we're not JK Rowling. We're better. I'm going to get sued now. Oh well. I have no money, and Wynter Flame won't give me her money. Hm, I have a big mouth. I'm going to represent myself in court. You know, only a fool would represent him/herself and all that…lovely. I'm finished I think. Yeah, I'm pretty sure. Wait….no, never mind I'm done.Yeah.
Dumbledore sat in his office contemplating starting his own religion revolving around lemon drops. He even had a hymn already written:
Lemon drop, lemon drop, oh lemon, lemon drop, lemon drop.
Sure, it was a little unoriginal but it was catchy.
Suddenly the door to his office was slammed open and in walked the DADA teacher, Georgia Hawk. She scowled at Dumbledore and knocked loudly on the already open door to gain his attention.
"Ah, my dear Georgia, lovely morning is it not?" Dumbledore turned to her, smiling.
"It's evening, Headmaster," She snapped.
"So it is, aptly observed Georgia. Hm, Georgia. That's a state did you know? In America." Dumbledore winked cheekily.
Professor Hawk glared at him," I need you to come to the staff room."
-
As Dumbledore entered the staff room he met the eyes of each and every professor in Hogwarts.
"Oh, dear, is it my birthday? Why it's wonderful of you all to hold a gathering. I'm pleased, I really am. Could one of you perhaps direct me to the lemon drops?"
Professor Sprout walked up to Dumbledore and lay a comforting hand on his shoulder," Actually Headmaster, we called you down to talk about Harry Potter. You do remember Harry don't you sir?"
"Of course I do, a spry young lad with much potential, pulled a sword from the Sorting Hat did you know? Now onto the lemon drops!" He tried to pull away from Professor Sprout but she wouldn't let him.
"There are no lemon drops!" Snape and Professor Hawk bellowed in unison, then glared at each other in annoyance and crossed their arms as one, looking pointedly at Dumbledore.
"Oh dear, what a terrible situation. How can you throw a party and forget to buy lemon drops?" Dumbledore looked like a child ready to cry, his bottom lip stuck out and trembling.
"It is not a party," growled Snape as he strode forward," Now tell us what the situation with Potter is and how you propose we save the little twit."
"Snape," hissed Professor Sprout, glaring at him until he backed away slightly, scowling.
"Now Headmaster. Do – you – know – where – Harry – Potter – is?" Sprout asked slowly, as if speaking to a small child.
"Oh he's fine. Don't worry about the boy. Hagrid and I have him locked up somewhere nice and safe where Voldemort can't reach him." Dumbledore looked annoyed," Now I really should get back to my office, I've left the lemon drops all alone and I don't quite trust Fawkes."
It was like a wind blew through the room as the professors let out a collective sigh, except for Snape and Professor Hawk who both rolled their eyes.
"May – I – ask – where – Headmaster?" Professor Sprout pushed.
"A very safe place indeed. Only Hagrid and I know the whereabouts." Dumbledore smiled reassuringly.
The rest of the professors exchanged wary glances but said nothing. It was almost dinner and they really just wanted to sit down to a nice meal right then.
"Well, as long as the boy's safe." Professor Hawk said. Everyone nodded, then turned to leave the room as one. Dumbledore was first out of the room, rushing to his office while the professors headed toward the Great Hall, Professor Snape and Professor Hawk in deep discussion about dark spellcasting.
Draco shoved the door to the closet he stood in open and fell out, gulping down the fresh air. Breathing in dust would do no good to him.
"Hagrid," he whispered to himself, "Everyone knows that big oaf can't keep a secret. I've got you now Potter." A malevolent laugh started deep in his throat and soon grew louder before he looked up to see Blaise looking curiously into the staff room at him, he immediately started coughing and hacking.
"Flu season," he choked out between coughs. Blaise nodded hesitantly and slowly walked away.
-
Draco pranced merrily down the grounds. Finally, Care of Magical Creatures. Now was his chance to talk to the oaf. As he stopped in front of Hagrid's cabin, the usual group surrounded him – Crabbe, Goyle, Blaise, Pansy, and Millicent. Bollocks, he would have to lose them before he could talk to Hagrid.
Hagrid stepped out of his cabin with a large crate under his arm. From inside the wooden box came the most unearthly screeching Draco had ever heard.
"I think yer goin' ter like what I got fer ya today class." Hagrid boasted as he dropped the heavy crate onto the ground in front of the class. He whipped the top off with a flourish and immediately everyone backed up a few feet. When enough time had passed that they were all sure nothing would jump out and slaughter them they tentatively crept toward the box.
Draco scoffed as he looked inside. At the bottom of the crate sat the most vomit-worthy creatures he had ever seen. They were large ungainly birds who looked to be flightless, covered in a light lavender fuzz with blue polka dots.
"They dun really have names," declared Hagrid," No one's ever been close enough to name them, they're poisonous to the touch. I like to call them Puggly Wugglies of Doom. Their skin sort of ekes poison out regularly, about every four minutes."
"Oh lovely, a new and horrible way to die each lesson isn't it?" mumbled Pansy to the Slytherin group.
Hagrid ignored the comment and continued on," Now, I'd like ya ta play fetch wit' them."
A collective groan rose from the students.
"Eh, they're not so bad. Just try not to touch them, and if ya do…Well, won't be much to worry 'bout after tha' will there?" He grinned and turned to dump the crate over. After the Puggly Wugglies of Doom scampered off with various students Draco turned to Hagrid, then realized the Slytherin group still surrounded him.
He burst into hacks and coughs and turned to Blaise, waving his arms menacingly. "I'm sick you idiots, get away!"
Once the Slytherins were gone, he walked over to Hagrid, who had put on a pair of thin gloves and was holding one of the creatures. He'd better not die before he tells me where Potter is, Draco thought to himself. "Professor," he called.
Hagrid turned and, seeing Draco (the student to hold the record for most injuries in CoMC in the history of Hogwarts) quickly set down the Puggly Wuggly of Doom. "Aye, and what would you be wantin' Malfoy?""Where's Potter?" Draco asked imperiously, his tone demanding an answer.
"Don't be worryin' your lil' head about 'Arry, he's in the safest place in the world." Hagrid replied.
I have a perfectly normal sized head, Draco thought to himself. Don't I? Don't I? Of course, I'm a Malfoy, he assured himself, calming his frantic thoughts. Perfect in every way. He started to walk away, then turned back to Hagrid.
"I have a very valuable . . . thing. I need somewhere to keep it safe for awhile. Where would you suggest?"
"Why Gringotts, o'course. It's the safest place in the wizardin' world," Hagrid answered instantly. Then he thought about it. "Shouldna said tha'. Really shouldna said tha'."
Draco had already turned. Gringotts? He thought. This is priceless. Locked in a bank vault by his own side! Suddenly the day was looking up.
