Larry Snotter and the Stargate of Doom
Chapter 5: These People Are Crazy
He had suspected it for some time. Ever since that door told him to sod off there had been a kind of niggling in him – but he had kept his concerns to himself, at that time. Now, though; now there could be absolutely no doubt about it: These people were crazy!
"These people are crazy." Daniel looked up from the book he was reading, entitled A Highly Biased And Selective History of Slogworts, Which Glosses Over the Nastier Aspects of the School, blinking at Jack as he only now noticed his presence.
"Well, I wouldn't go so far as crazy; I mean, I'll admit their way of life is sort of – different to what we're used to, but really, their culture is quite amazing. Just look at the way they've managed to adapt to..."
Ah well. Danny was an archaeologist, and he always had had a screw or two loose. Carter would understand things from his perspective.
"These people are crazy."
"Actually, sir, a better word for it might be – miraculous. Think about it; these people are somehow able to channel advanced mental powers through an entirely mundane device to do literally anything; just imagine, the possibilities are..."
Jack went away disgusted. Scientists! Teal'c, though, Teal'c was a warrior. Teal'c would see where he was coming from.
"These people are crazy."
"O'Neill, on Chulak my people have many customs which you of the Tau'ri would find barbaric. The rituals of these Wizards are indeed strange, but they are as sane as you or I."
Colonel Jack O'Neill was surrounded by wackoes!
SG-1 had been at Slogworts for a number of days, now, and still no means of escaping the planet had presented itself. The Stargate still hung on Loop-the-Loopin's wall. They had warned Fumbleforthedoorknob that their people would come through the 'gate after them if they didn't return, to which the old wizard replied unconcernedly that nobody would be getting in through that wall-hanging, brushing aside any further questions.
The DHD appeared to be MIA, so there was no way of dialling home – or at least, not without another power source, and nothing of that nature seemed readily available. Carter seemed to thing that these people's "magic" could work, but anybody who could help the team there was set on keeping them at Slogwarts until they were pulling rabbits out of hats.
Classes were, if nothing else, bizarre.
They had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of the different stars. Jack had expected he would find this the easiest class, considering his occupation and his leisurely interest in astronomy, but it seemed these wizard people had different names for all the constellations and, being a fairly unimaginative people, most of them were Bob.
Three times a week they trumped out to the greenhouses behind the castle, where they learnt how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi and found out what sorts of highly useful things they could be made into, such as fragrant soap, or a healthy garden salad. The class was taught by Professor Trout, a dumpy little witch who bore a spooky resemblance to Jackie French.
"Good afternoon, evwybody! I had woot canaw! Today we're going to be fertiwising Swobbewing Swuzzwewums which can water be used to make a wovewy hand wotion, so I'd wike you to open youwr books to page thwee hundwed and fowty thwee. Wovewy."
Easily the most boring lesson was History of Magic. Interestingly enough, it was also the class with the highest fatality rate. Professor Dustbin himself had been very old indeed when he had finally died of boredom during one of his own lectures about Igor the Clinically Insane, and had walked out of the classroom leaving his body behind him. It still lay slumped in one corner of the classroom (Dustbin was a sentimental bloke), gathering dust and creepy-crawlies, and emanating a most foul stench.
Professor Nitpick, the Charms teacher, was a giant of a man who stood on a pile of books to emphasise his considerable height. He taught what he called "practical" magic, the stuff that you could expect to in your everyday life – such as, for example, making feathers fly and getting an ordinary desk lamp to pace around the room, muttering to itself.
Professor McDonalds was again different. Jack had been quite wrong to think she wasn't a teacher who'd get cross. Strict and clever, she would punish students for the tiniest little gaffe, such as chewing gum in class or wagging in order to search the castle for the missing DHD.
"Disfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said, "Anyone messing around in my class will be leave and not come back. You have been warned." With McDonalds's assurances, Colonel O'Neill was fully prepared to mess around, but after seeing her Disfigure an expendable student as an example of the kind of things they would be learning, he thought better of it.
Divination was simply weird. The teacher, Drivel Treyawney, spent a good deal of the class predicting each of the students' weekly misfortunes. Jack was in danger of falling into a fiery pit of green sludge inhabited by giant space hamsters, while Daniel was scheduled to die (again) by the stroke of midnight on Wednesday. Teal'c was under orders to watch Junior, who Treyawney suspected would leap out of its abdominal pouch and throttle the Jaffa within the next couple of days. Sam's next seventeen love interests' days were numbered.
Treyawney seemed to particularly enjoy singling out Larry; in the short time SG-1 had been attending the class, the Divination teacher had predicted Larry's death every lesson without fail. The event had never come to pass as yet, but that did not stop Treyawney. It was Jack's opinion that she was just hoping, as was most of the rest of the school.
Cookery classes took place down in one of the basements, while the Home Economics room was being revamped. It was quite cosy, really. They were forced to use cauldrons, in the absence of more modern equipment (Fumbleforthedoorknob could be a little stingy when it came to spending money. He was also a couple of centuries older than everybody else and didn't care much for any of those new-fangled contraptions), and due to short supplies many of the ingredients on their lists had to be substituted for... alternative items.
Still, it was quite a learning experience. Jack had never realised just how many different things the eye of a newt could be used for. It might have even been enjoyable (well, almost enjoyable), if not for the presence of the Kitchens Master, Professor Snapecrackleandpop.
He was a bad egg, Snapecrackleandpop. He was like a Goa'uld, only he didn't have an evil snake in his head, or have glowy eyes, or say "Kree" a lot for no apparent reason, or blast people with a ribbon device when they pissed him off (though he did hand out an awful lot of detentions), or enslave people and make them worship him as a god, or try to blow up people because he didn't like them. He did eat snakes while they were still alive, though.
To sum it up, Professor Snapecrackleandpop was mean. By the end of their first lesson, Jack was ready to beat the living crap out of the guy. He did suggest it to Teal'c, but the Jaffa had just given him eyebrow #39, his I-do-not-understand-you-O'Neill eyebrow. Or perhaps it was #24, the fortunately-we-are-not-on-Chulak one.
So now, Jack was counting down the hours. He knew it was coming; within the day, if his estimate was correct. Things just couldn't hold up for much longer. And sure enough, it came. Carter, Daniel and Teal'c all trudged into the dorm (a.k.a. the "cell" they had stayed in on their first night). They looked at him, gravely.
"These people are crazy."
Jack smirked, "Told ya so."
Notes: Fifth chapter, as promised! A couple of months late, sure, but I did write it. (Apologies for the lateness; I'll try to make it up to you guys with some new installments over the summer holidays .) Thanks again to everyone who reviewed, you make my day!
Disclaimer: Yes, I own them all. I do. I make millions out of these guys every year. They're mine, all mine, muahaha!
Disclaimer For Those Without a Sense of Humour: I do not own Stargate SG-1, nor do I own Harry Potter, and am not involved in any kind of conspiracy to take over the world.