57.

DARK SARCASM IN THE CLASSROOM

None of these characters belong to me except Chillinger. The rest belong to Matt Groening and J.K. Rowling. No writing news right now, except that TRIP THE LIGHT

HORRIFIC may be going to the printers soon.

"I 'aven't done anythin' resemblin' work since the day I got here," Willy told the guys in

the painting, but they were more interested in eating. Looked like someone had beaten

them to the food, though. All there was was bread and wine.

"When ya run oot of food, don't come cryin' to me."

He noticed the girl behind him.

"Shouldn't ya be in class, lassie?"

"Not for awhile." She looked a bit like one of those little pug dogs, with hair dark as an

awful secret. She smirked at him. "So you're the one from America," she said.

"Willy's the name."

"Pansy," the girl said. "Pansy Parkinson."

"Parkinson, huh? As in Parkinson's Disease?"

She scowled. "No…as in…look, I run things around here."

"Do ya, now? What's with this painting, then?"

"It's a reproduction of 'The Last Supper.'"

Willy looked closer. "Which one of 'em's Jesus?"

"The one in the middle."

"Blast it," Willy said. "So 'e is."

"Excuse me," Parkinson said.

Laughing, they bounded down a stairway, out of sight.

The bell rang sooner than Willy thought it would. Kids came swarming from all different

directions, trudging up and down the stairs. Sometimes, the stairs moved for them.

It had been a long time since he'd seen the wee Simpson lad, and as far as he was

concerned, not nearly long enough.

Of course, who should come bounding down the stairs. "Speak of the Devil," Willy said.

"I'd hardly call Bart a demon," Flitwick said, peeking out from behind the boy.

"That's 'cause ya haven't seen 'im in action," Willy said.

"Come on, Willy," Bart said. "We don't really have time to debate things I may or may

not have done."

"Ya filled m' shack with creamed corn!" Willy said.

"Well, yeah, I did do that-"

"So you really ARE a juvenile delinquent," Flitwick said.

"I tend to get into mischief."

"Don't argue semantics with me, young man."

"Sorry," Bart said.

"Don't worry about it," Flitwick said.

"Where's the bathroom?" Bart asked.

"Oh…well, there's one down that hall."

Bart sprinted down the hall.

"Didja know this is 'The Last Supper'?" Willy asked.

"Oh, yes," Flitwick said. "They're always like that. Hogwarts is alive, you know."

"This whole place-"

"Has a consciousness all its own. Pardon me, I have a class…"

He made his way down the stairs, and in a moment, Willy was alone. He studied the

paintings, watching out for Bart. He came across one-Jacque Louis David's Cupid and

Psyche, both nude as they could be, and he yelled "BOO-" which caused them to run into

the next portrait, where they sat down at a table and played poker with some very

dangerous characters-

Where was Bart?

"Oh, laddie, ya better not be puttin' cherry bombs in the toilets again."

He started down the hallway, past locked rooms, and doors that might disappear

at any moment, windows that looked upon impossible scenes. More artwork. Disused

classrooms full of empty desks.

"-get his legs."

Willy ducked into the dark, dank room. He saw someone standing in the bathroom. He

tried to get closer, but he would've been seen. There were a number of people standing

over something crumpled on the floor.

Then one of them looked towards Willy.

Chillinger.

Chillinger stepped to the side for a moment.

The one on the floor was Bart.

When Chillinger reappeared, he had someone else in his grip.

"I swear, I haven't told anyone," the kid said.

"Well, Malfoy, I suppose-" Chillinger said.

"-they said, two," the other Chillinger said.

Chillinger slipped a rag over Malfoy's face. His struggled, but not for long.

Gotta find a weapon-

Willy searched the room.

"Is it time?" Chillinger asked the other Chillinger at his side.

"It may very well be," said Chillinger.

"You know they'll track the portkey," Chillinger said.

Chillinger shrugged.

"Very well, then," Chillinger said. He took a small box from his pocket.

"Three-"

Willy tensed.

"Two-"

He raised his arms over his head.

One."

Willy screamed and charged into the bathroom; the two Chillingers looked pretty

surprised, especially when he threw the handful of chalk at them. A large chunk hit

the box, right as they were disappearing, and tumbled to the floor after they were gone.

Willy stood over the tiny box.

He bent down.

One of the stalls flew open.

"Don't touch that," Blaise said.