Author's Notes: What happens when one question is asked to five different people? I attempted to find out.
The Question: If a rock started glowing after you blew on a flute, what would you do?
Rhys: Put the rock in my room and put a fan by the flute so then I'd have a nightlight
Chelle: Stare at it. (She even demonstrated) -- o_o
Draco: Stare at it...... ELIJAH WOOD SCHTYLE! 0_o
Malfoy: Run and hide or, sell the rock, and the flute as well. (always like a Malfoy to try and profit from this)
Rhy's friend Scott: Could you repeat the question
When asked again…
Could you say it in English this time?
He's obviously a bit slow.
Follow up Question: Well if a badger-rat type dude came out of it talking in third person, THEN what would you do?
Rhys: Beat him with the flute and then continue to play
Chelle: I would talk back to it. Poor bastard needs talking to if he speaks in third person. (She then demonstrated the face again for some reason, like so… o_o)
Draco: Tell him he has the wrong movie?
Malfoy: Sell him too, or kill him, or ask him what the F is going on.
Rhy's friend Scott: -Not Available For Comment- (He's too normal and slow to understand the workings of the insane mind…so he jumped off a cliff)
So there you have it folks. The world's greatest mystery solved…
Chapter 4
"Welcome to Advanced Potions…I loath you all," Snape glared at them for five minutes straight before seemingly remembering where he was. "Today I'm making you all wear pink…"
The class gasped.
"…except Draco of course…"
The class gasped.
"And Snuffleupagus…"
A murmur of understanding went through the classroom. A huge orange elephant with a name like 'Aloysius Snuffleupagus' doesn't deserve to be punished…
"He's not orange, he's brown," Ron, being one of the only people who could see the author, commented.
Whatever…
"Now pick up your aprons and get to work!" Snape barked, motioning to the newly set up apron corner.
All the students, save Draco and his posse of scantily-clad girls, got to their feet, making their way over to the corner and standing around the frilly pink aprons, looks of disgust on their faces.
"Well what are you WAITING for?! Get to it!" Snape screeched.
"Umm...professor…you never actually gave us any work…"
"Are you THREATENING me Potter?" Snape stalked across the room towards Harry until he was inches away from the boy's face.
"Wha- no! Sir! I would…are you drunk?" Harry blinked.
"Just a tad…wait…I'M ASKING THE QUESTIONS HERE!"
"Well, I was just sayin' that you didn't give us any work to do, so telling us to go to work is pretty pointless," Harry tried to explain, stopping when he noticed the steam coming out of the Professor's nose.
"1000 points from Gryffindor!" Snape yelled, eyes turning a frightening shade of red.
The Gryffindors groaned and cried…one even yelled "Stellllllllaaaaa!!!!!!"
"But sir! The year's just started! We don't even HAVE 1000 points!" Harry gasped.
Snape thought about it for a moment. "Fine then, 10 points…and you've got to give me your first born child."
"Deal," Harry, being incredibly immature for his age, thought this was a good deal, since girls were icky and he'd never have children.
Just then the argument was cut off by the screaming of a girl nearby. Pansy Parkinson had accidentally dropped her pink apron out the window and everyone stared in horror as the pink fabric fluttered down towards the grounds, exploding in mid-air for no reason whatsoever.
"Burn baby burn!" Ron exclaimed, pumping his fist in the air.
"I've never seen anything spontaneously explode like that," Hermione commented from her spot in front of the window, head tilted.
"Dats da shiznit yo," Neville added. Amazingly enough, Snape actually let him into advanced potions…probably because he looked smashing in pink.
"Alright! Enough of this lolly-gagging! Get back to work!" Snape barked from his spot in front of Harry.
Everyone began to scatter, getting their aprons on. (Wow, how long does it TAKE to put on a friggin apron?) All but Pansy, who was curled up in the fetal position on the floor.
"Miss. Parkinson, what are you DOING?" Snape yelled.
"M-my apron…it's DEAD," Pansy cried.
"Aprons can't DIE woman! They're just pieces of fabric!" he screamed, his eye twitching. When she wouldn't move, he shook his head, stomping back over to his desk and throwing it out the window.
Everyone stared.
"I hate my job…" he grumbled, sitting down in his chair, looking less menacing now that he couldn't peek out at them over top of a huge desk.
The class was silent, and it was then that everyone noticed the giggling coming from the Slytherin side of the room. Draco Malfoy, sitting back in his chair casually, was surrounded by scantily-clad girls, all giggling. Never was there a time when you did not see Draco surrounded by his girls, even bringing in special guests once in a while. Yesterday Gwyneth Paltrow could be seen sitting on Draco's lap at the Slytherin table, flipping her hair and smiling.
"Draco, please tell your friends to go back to their own desks," Snape, obviously favoring Draco above all his students, had assigned desks for Draco's girls, even though they didn't attend the school. In other classes, the teachers made him leave them outside, but the classes were frequently interrupted by the sound of scratching on the door as the girls tried to claw their way in using their long, pink-painted fingernails. Frankly, nobody knew where they came from, but most of the boys enjoyed watching them walk around in their meager amounts of clothing.
"But siiiiiir," Draco whined in his annoying, whiney, rich-boy, 'I get whatever I want' voice.
"I'm sorry Draco, but rule 2316 of the Hogwarts Code of Conduct clearly states 'all scantily-clad girls, if given permission by the instructor, must be seated in their designated spots during class hours'," Snape replied, giving Draco a 'Please don't send your father after me' look.
Draco sighed dramatically, speaking to the girls in their native tongue of skankish. They all cried out, leaving Draco's lap reluctantly and sitting in their seats. Our poor tragic antagonist pouted like the spoiled brat he was, feeling oddly empty and depressed without his girls warming his lap. Poor Malfoy, all alone in the world.
I mean, other than the billions of dollars, castle-like home, and women throwing themselves at him, what else did he have? His hair has to be gel-charmed every half hour, Snape actually liked him, and his shoes had not been properly polished the day before. Also the fact that his father is the spawn of Satan could be pretty depressing…although he tried not to dwell on that. Why, just this morning he could not find his favorite pair of solid-gold trousers. Oh the agony of it all. That was sarcasm by the way. I mean, come on, wouldn't that be a little uncomfortable? Who wears metal pants anyway?!
"Are we going to get work today, or is this class going to be like all the classes we had yesterday?" Hermione asked, grumbling from her seat.
"Miss. Granger," Snape glared with loathing. "Would you like to teach the class instead?" he asked sarcastically.
Hermione's face lit up.
"Uh oh…bad question," Ron commented.
"Of COURSE I would Professor! I was waiting for you to ask!" she grinned, getting to her feet.
"I was being SARCASTIC you stupid girl," Snape rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair.
Hermione's face fell and she once again took her seat, looking crestfallen.
"Since this is your first day…and the author of this story doesn't feel like giving you any real work…you shall not have any homework tonight…" Snape yawned.
Everyone cheered.
"Except Harry Potter…just because," Snape added.
Everyone still cheered…except Harry of course.
The bell rang then, signaling the end of the period.
"Go away…" Snape yelled, and they all jumped to their feet, scrambling to get their bags out and get out of the class.
"Potter, you've got a two foot long paper on the importance of hygiene," Snape yelled over the noise.
Harry grumbled. "Are the teachers trying to tell me something?" Harry turned around to see Ron and Hermione smiling at him, clothing pegs clasped over their noses.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The three friends walked through the hallway after Potion's class, talking about this and that. They were on their way to their first Transfiguration lesson of the year and were actually looking forward to learning SOMETHING for a change.
Alas, a safe and speedy journey to their lesson was not to be, for at that moment, Draco Malfoy yelled out Harry's surname from the opposite end of the corridor they were in. Harry turned on a heel, face set in stone.
Everything went quiet as the two rivals met each other's eyes from across the corridor after slowly turning to face one another. Western music played in the background as they began to walk forward, eyes locked. People in the hallway turned to stare with rapt attention, holding their breath in preparation for the bloody battle to ensue. The only sound that could be heard was the sound of spurs clanging on the boots of the two enemies. Why they were wearing spurs all of a sudden, I don't know, but that's not of importance.
"Uh oh…here we go again," Ron, feeling left out and wanting everyone to remember he was there too, commented.
Draco and Harry finally met, glaring into each other's faces with loathing.
"Sheriff Scarface…" Draco narrowed his eyes more, looking out at Harry from under his cowboy hat.
The sound of the wind blowing and the sound of bouncing twigs as tumbleweed rolled by was all that was heard as Harry glared at Draco for five minutes straight. A first year, having held his breath for too long, passed out on the floor.
"…Dr. Draco," Harry nodded slightly.
"Damn it Potter! We went over this in rehearsal yesterday! I'm the town vigilante, not the town doctor!" Draco shrilled angrily.
"Oh whatever! I can call you whatever I want!" Harry yelled back.
"Oh yes! I'm Potter! I can do whatever I like cause I'm so BRAVE…" Draco imitated Harry in a whiney voice.
"You're so stupid! Why would I call myself Potter!?" Harry crossed his arms over his chest.
Draco looked stumped. "Shut up you…you…BUTT KISSER!" Draco stamped his foot.
"Yeah, well yo mama!" Harry retorted.
Everyone 'Ooo'ed
"Yo papa!" Draco answered back.
"Yo sista!"
"Yo brotha!"
"I don't gots no brotha!" Harry gloated.
"Yeah, well I don't gots no sista!" Draco spat back.
"Well then why didn't you correct me in the FIRST place!"
Silence.
"Yo scar!"
"Don't you be dissin' up ma scar biatch!"
"HEY HEY HEY! STOP THIS RIGHT NOW!" Neville chimed in, standing between them. "I'M the supposed to be the ghetto one here!"
"Sorry Neville," Harry and Draco chorused, hanging their heads in shame.
"Look, I'm all for your need to fight in public. Public displays of conflict are very important in life. But we're gonna be late for class, so could you postpone this till, say, after lunch?" Hermione tried to reason with them.
They both shrugged and nodded.
"Sure," Harry replied.
"Actually, I'll be busy counting my money after lunch…what about after dinner?" Draco took out his little black book and flipped through the pages.
Harry also took out his book, eyes furrowed in concentration. "No, not free then. Shall we make it tomorrow?"
"That's good for me…" Draco penciled the fight into his book.
"Great," Harry nodded again, turning on a heel and stalking away.
"POTTER! Wait!" Draco called out.
"What is it Malfoy?" Harry asked.
"You forgot the customary leaving glare!" Draco reminded.
Harry slapped his forehead. "How stupid of me!" he exclaimed, walking back over and facing Draco again.
They stood there, glaring, suddenly turning at the same moment and stalking off towards opposite sides of the hallway.
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Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat in Transfiguration, facing the front of the room and waiting for class to begin. The class was significantly smaller then last year, Professor McGonagall only choosing the students she felt would be most successful in sixth year Transfiguration…and not because they looked good in pink. An honest teacher…who knew?
"Welcome back everyone! You few have been selected to continue on in Transfiguration for the remainder of the school year. Congratulations," Professor McGonagall looked around at them all sternly.
Silence.
"Clap now!" she ordered.
They clapped.
"Now, this year will be dedicated to the study of human transfiguration…"
Professor McGonagall was cut off by the excited whispers of the class. She gave them a narrow-eyed glance that shut them up promptly.
"Human Transfiguration is a very dangerous and very precise area of ma-…what is it Weasley?" Professor McGonagall huffed, giving Ron a death stare.
He didn't seem to notice. "Professor, can we learn how to turn someone else into a Llama?" he asked, eyes shining.
She rubbed her forehead, obviously annoyed. "Mr. Weasley, after you learn the proper mechanics of Human Transfiguration, THEN we can talk about Llamas…"
Ron, using his power of selective hearing again, only heard 'we can talk about llamas', his face brightening.
"Now, everyone please leave your questions until after I finish speaking," the Professor continued. "We will have many classes discussing the theory and mechanics of this precise portion of transfiguration…"
Everyone groaned.
"…and we will have many tests to make sure you are all up to par…"
More groans.
"…and if you groan one more time I will feed you to my thestral…"
The all stopped mid-groan.
"Thank you…now, does anybody know what Human Transfiguration is?" Professor McGonagall looked around the class, opening her mouth to call upon Hermione when Seamus butt in.
"You know, professor, it is impossible to feed us to your thestral, as you say. Seeing as the only people who know they are there are people who have seen death, and seeing as these creatures are made up of bones, without flesh, they could not possibly have digestive systems, and therefore they do not need nutrients to live I would think they would not wish to consume food for the mere fact that the food cannot remain in what could been seen as their bodies…"
Silence.
Professor McGonagall, annoyed because of the constant interruptions, threw her teacher's manual at Seamus, smacking him in the forehead. They all watched as he slid out of his desk, toppling to the floor.
They cheered.
"So…where were we? Ah yes, Miss. Granger, if you please," McGonagall urged.
Hermione cleared her throat, taking a sip of water from the glass on the corner of her desk. "Human Transfiguration is the process by which the human form is changed, or transfigured, into something of another nature…" Hermione explained.
Professor McGonagall beamed. "Very good, ten points to Gryffindor…to make up for the points Harry Potter most likely got deducted from you in Potions…"
"…how did you…?" Harry gaped.
"Oh come off it Harry, you always lose points in that class," McGonagall rolled her eyes.
"Trudat," Ron added.
Harry pouted. "Well I'm the one always earning us the big points with Quidditch, and saving the world and stuff."
"Harry, this is no time to speak of your conquests. And Mr. Weasley, please remove the sombrero…" the Professor eyed him warily.
Ron sighed, taking off the hat.
"Now, everyone take out a quill and parchment and write down these notes," the Professor ordered.
The class groaned…once again…seems like a recurring, collaborative action in this class.
"Stop using such big words…" Ron whispered to the author, who was once again sitting in the corner, unseen by most.
"Mr. Weasley, please stop talking to yourself," McGonagall snapped, turning back around and commencing writing on the board.
Ron grumbled and bent over his parchment again, the author smirking and throwing tiny balled-up pieces of paper at him.
After a half an hour of writing down notes…yes, I know, this class goes by real fast…the students were beginning to get antsy, a couple losing their fingers. Professor McGonagall didn't seem to notice the agonized cries of pain until…
…Hermione stopped writing.
-Dramatic Chord-
As soon as this tip of Hermione's quill left the parchment, Professor McGonagall whipped around, gasping.
"Miss. Granger, are you OK! Are you DYING?" she screeched.
Hermione looked ashamed. "No Professor, I…I just got…" she whispered the last word. "…tired."
Everyone gasped.
"Oh dear, I must be giving you too much work. That's it for today everyone," Professor McGonagall put down her chalk, wiping her hands on a handkerchief.
Everyone was relieved, except for Hermione, who was franticly trying to raise her hand in the air. Ron was holding on for dear life, restricting her raising it and edging on more work from the teacher.
"Professor," Ron asked quickly, before Hermione broke free of his death grip. "Could you transfigure into a cat again?" he asked the first thing that came to his mind.
The professor, never passing up a chance show off her mad skills, gave him what looked like a smile…or it could've been she ate some bad beans for breakfast. "Why of course Mr. Weasley."
They all watched as she transfigured into a cat, using some wicked cool computer graphics. Just as she was about to turn back into a human, she sneezed extremely hard, causing the transfiguration to screw up somehow. After a few minutes of trying to fix herself, she screeched, running around in circles franticly.
"I'm stuck I'm stuck! I don't wanna lick myself for the rest of my life!" she cried, sprawling over her desk.
"Oh no!" Hermione wailed, getting up and running over to the teacher. "Professor what can I do!"
"Nothing! Nothing…" the teacher sighed dramatically. "I'll have to go visit the headmaster and get him to fix me…" she sniffed, sadly sitting up. "Class dismissed."
Everyone ran out, whooping happily…except of course the famous trio, who always had to be the ones in the spotlight.
"What are you three still doing here? Go away," the Professor glared, sounding oddly like Snape. Perhaps he once got stuck as a cat and that's why he was so bitter now. I doubt it though.
The three shrugged, walking out and leaving the cat-formerly-known-as-McGonagall sulking on her desk.
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Woot woot! Sorry this chapter took so long. A lot of stuff going on.
I just wanted to explain why I keep hinting that Harry smells and needs better hygiene. Some guy wrote an article or something saying that the characters in Harry Potter smell because JK Rowling never writes them taking baths. I thought this was a very STUPID notion…I mean, JK can't write in EVERY detail. This is NOT JRR Tolkien. "Harry son of James son of Morris son of Gryndon son of Marcus son of a biatch…" etc. Just imagine:
"Harry, feeling stinky, took a long shower, then took a crap, and feeling dirty all over a again taking another shower, making sure to wash the crack of his butt."
I know that was unnecessarily gross, but it had to be said. Lol.
Shout outs to reviewers:
bah- awesome name dude
Ickle Ronniekins Girlie- a woman of many words
Clayin- I shall continue writing. Thanks for the review!
Gred Weasley- You are awesome. You are so getting a bar of gold in the mail. Or perhaps a sock. Either or. And now look what you've done. All my cornflakes are gone!
The Cawi- Don't be sad. I can write better then Monkey Bone himself. No need to fret. Lol
LauraLou- A parody/comedy fanfiction story on the net with INTEGRITY? Blasphemy!
sweetlilbrat- My story burns calories? Amazing!
Hear that everyone! My story burns Calories! And reviewing cures the Ebola virus. So review and cure Ebola! :)