Chapter 2: SPWEB
By the time the second chapter commenced, Harry had fully recovered from what proved to be injuries sustained in a catastrophic knitting accident. In between chapters, he, Bonfoy, and Pansy had apparated to an out-of-the-way location to watch a thrilling drag race between Miss Havisham and Mr. Toad. They returned to the Slytherin common room just in time for their entrance cue and found themselves in the middle of a hastily called secret meeting.
The common room was packed with Slytherins, and at the front of the assembly stood Snape and two house elves. One of the house elves, a distinguished looking fellow, wore what looked like an old, shredded, and mildewed dishrag; the other was clad in a black tea towel toga adorned with pockets and loops. This latter house elf had a backpack at his feet, a carnivorous grin on his face, and all manner of tools hanging from the loops, all of which appeared optimized for stalking and slaying.
"Did we miss anything?" Bonfoy asked Goyle under his breath.
"Not really," Goyle replied. "Just something Susan Cooper-ish about a badger being abroad. Seems almost like Hufflepuff might be out to take the Quidditch Cup this year."
"Worse," Harry told him. "Sprout's out to take over the world."
Goyle snorted. "So are my lab mice," he muttered back, "but you don't see me shaking in my boots over it."
"Yes," Bonfoy allowed, "but have your lab mice converted a quarter of the school into a standing army and devised a strategy called Operation: Mighty, Mighty Lab Mouse?"
Goyle frowned thoughtfully. "You may have a point there."
They then turned their attention to Snape, who had considerately paused to allow them time for this sidebar. Seeing that they had done, he addressed the assembly.
"Friends, Slytherins, countrymen! Lend me your ears!"
The grinning house elf arched an eyebrow. "They're already listening," he pointed out.
"Yes, Mortimer, I know," Snape muttered. "That's hardly the point." He cleared his throat. "I have called you all here to propose the creation of a new action organization. There is a threat which I have just learned is imminent, and I believe that we are uniquely qualified to address it."
"What name do you propose?" a fifth year prefect asked.
"The Society for the Protection of the World from Evil Badgers," Snape replied. "But that's too long for a chapter title, so we'll call it SPWEB for short. All in favor?"
There was a thunderous chorus of "Aye!"
"Any dissenting?"
It was silent, except for the inexplicable chirping of a cricket somewhere in the room.
"Good!" Snape announced. "This motion does pass. I will now entertain a motion for explanation of SPWEB's purpose."
The Slytherins, Harry had learned, were extremely fond of forming new clubs and societies, and they would often (more often than not, in fact) create one simply on the basis of an impressive-sounding name. The more impressive the name of the club, the more civic-minded its already civic-minded members felt, so even those who didn't necessarily agree with all of the goals of a particular club, inevitably belonged to it.
"I move for an explanation of the purpose and resultant advancement of the plot!" Pansy called out.
"Second!" Millicent added.
"Very well." Snape cleared his throat and looked very grave. "It has come to my attention, through various sources, that Professor Sprout has devised a plot to take over the world. I didn't at first believe it, of course—the Hufflepuffs appear perfectly harmless, after all—but as strange things began happening, it became all to clear that my suspicions were correct. You all remember, of course, the nefarious house elf plot against my son his second year here?"
There were nods and murmurs of assent.
"We formed three societies to try and get to the bottom of that one," Bonfoy whispered to Harry.
"Well," Snape continued, "I have now learned that Sprout has created an army of the members of her own House and has set into motion her plan for world domination. We have a fortnight before Hufflepuff strikes."
There were several horrified gasps, and a handful of Slytherins, make and female alike, fainted dead away.
"Do you have a plan?" Crabbe called out over the uproar.
"I do!" Snape assured them. "And the keys to our success stand here in front of you."
Pansy's jaw dropped. "You're staking it all on house elves?" she shrieked. "We're doomed!"
The house elf in the moldy dishrag coughed politely. "Your pardon, madam," he said in a distinguished voice to match his face, if not his apparel. "But we are not typical house elves. My colleague and I"—he nodded to Mortimer—"are specialized covert operatives who are quite capable of carrying out the missions set for us."
"What sort of missions?" Goyle asked.
Both house elves turned to Snape, who cleared his throat. "I know that many of you believe house elves to be generally inept," he said, "and I know you're all aware that a large number of house elves, the late Dobby among them, are our enemies. Alfred and Mortimer, however, are solidly on our side, and they are anything but inept.
"Mortimer—"
"Call me Trigger," Mortimer said with a bow and a grin.
Snape rolled his eyes. "Very well," he said impatiently. "Trigger is a fully qualified bounty hunter, assassin, and demolitions expert. Alfred—"
"Mopsy," Alfred corrected, with another polite cough.
Snape glared at him. "Mopsy," he growled, "specializes in intrusion and sabotage. He will be infiltrating the ranks of the house elves loyal to Hufflepuff and acting as a spy."
"What about Trigger?" Millicent asked.
Snape cleared his throat again. "The battle we are embarking on is not entirely as clear-cut as it would at first appear," he replied. "There are several rogue agents involved, each with his or her own agenda. One of these is the very writer of this fanfiction."
The Slytherins went silent and stared at him with haunted eyes; the implication of that statement was not lost on any of them.
"Trigger's job, therefore," Snape continued, after a meaningful pause, "is to locate Ancalimë Erendis and either subvert her…"
He trailed off, but Mortimer happily finished the thought: "Or whack her." He grinned with anticipation.
"But won't that end the story?" Harry asked.
"If your only alternative was being ground beneath the badger's boot," Mortimer countered, "which would you choose?"
"Good point," Harry murmured.
"Once Trigger and Mopsy have made their reports," Snape stated, "we will be able to act. Can I count on all of you?"
There were cheers and thunderous applause in response.
"Crabbe and I'll head the weapons development committee!" Goyle called.
"Malvina and I can design uniforms!" Pansy chimed in.
"Please, no pink," Bonfoy muttered. Pansy glared at him.
"I'll make a battle flag," Millicent volunteered. She looked to Harry. "Want to help?"
Harry broke out in a cold sweat. "Um, no," he stammered. "I'd better avoid knitting needles for awhile." He still didn't remember much of what had happened to land him in the hospital wing, but it gave him horrifying nightmares. "I think…Bonfoy and I'll figure out how to kill off Voldemort before the Hufflepuffs can get to him."
"Good idea, that," Bonfoy mused.
"Very well," Snape said. "Form your committees and get to work. We have a fortnight before all Hell breaks loose."
As Harry turned away from the gathering, he heard a sinister voice somewhere nearby.
"Are you pondering what I'm pondering?" it asked.
"I think so, Brain," another, far less sinister, voice replied. "But where are we going to get enough toothpicks to build a replica of the Eiffel Tower at this time of night?"
Before "Brain" could make any reply to this, Goyle swooped over to the chair next to which Harry stood and snatched something up out of it. He smiled mirthlessly at Harry. "My lab mice," he explained. "Every night they get loose, but I always find them before they do any damage."
"Unhand me, you gorilla brute!" Brain's now-muffled voice snapped. "If you do not let me go at once, I shall ensure that your death is painful and drawn-out once the world is mine."
Goyle snorted. "Whatever. Good luck with taking down Moldy Voldy, Harry!"
"Same to you," Harry called after him as he disappeared into the crowd.
