Chapter 6
After recovering from the teargas and being allowed back out of their dorms, the children were tempted to start another riot when they discovered that it was time for potions. Draco was of course chipper about it, expecting the usual special treatment from Snape, but he wouldn't have been so happy if only he knew...
That Buckbeak might be the father of Hermione's baby!
Well, no, he mightn't. But someone might tell Draco that anyway, if only to make him quit being so smug.
Anyway, the children proceeded towards the dungeons by the usual route, pausing briefly to peer in the open door of Filch's office, moving on once they saw that nothing discreet or disgusting was going on. But it wasn't that room, but the potions room itself, that would cause them to gasp and a few to gag, for someone in Snape's absence had ruined the once-dreary setting. The tangy scent of lemons greeted them before they even opened the door, the desks had pink floral tablecloths, and all the seats had been exchanged for dainty dining chairs capped with lacy doilies. The Slytherins regarded the setting with utmost distrust and were the last to become seated. Lavender Brown and the Parvati twins were delighted by the puppy-print throw rugs, since it tickled their girlish fluffophilia.
"Hello!" squealed a voice, and everyone looked around for its source, for they could see no one speaking. Their curiosities were answered as a tiny blonde popped into view from behind the professor's desk, where her head had previously been hidden by an envased bouquet. "Don't you like what I've done with the place? It was so dreary before!" With each sentence her red-nailed hands made ridiculous motions, flapping and jerking to accent every syllable; obviously she thought it was cute but it was a bit frightening, those ten crimson daggers flying around her torso.
She skipped to the fore of her desk, dress and apron bouncing jauntily, and went on in her helium chirp, "Today I'd like to introduce you all to a very special potion I discovered in the Muggle world: Pine Fresh Lysol!" She produced a bottle and held it against her cheek with a merry grin.
Harry, still under the effects of the Say-What-You're-Thinking hex, spoke involuntarily. "What's wrong with that voice of yours? Have you been sucking helium or are you just highly constipated?" He groaned on the inside and wondered when the curse would wear off.
Her face fell and all the chipper glitter died in her eyes. "Oh, my," she said. "That's not very nice. Well, class, time for a good ol'-fashioned tar and feathering!"
This was met with blank stares and silence. "Well?" she said through grated teeth, but her voice did not drop in pitch. "I said, tar and feather him!"
"We...don't have tar," said Padma.
"Or feathers," said Parvati.
The woman sighed and waved the subject off dismissively. "Oh, well. By the way, I'm Professor Rekin, everyone!"
"What a ridiculous name," muttered Harry.
"I have acid," she said, and her voice had taken on a seething, cold tone that dripped with more fatality than Snape's ever had, although it was still far too high for any natural human.
But Harry couldn't stop himself. "So what? It's not like you're allowed to hurt students. And even if you could, I doubt you could ever do anything to me, anyway. I've survived facing off against Voldemort and his lackies every year I've been in this school! You honestly think a frilly, out-of-date Muggle-wannabe broad like you could scare me?"
"Well--"
"And what is with your hair? You are the lamest excuse for a sack of skin I've ever seen in my life, and believe me, I've seen alot of lame people." He looked around the room where he was met with many shocked and frightened faces. "And this colour scheme makes me want to PUKE!"
"But--"
"Stop stuttering! Why can't you just be assertive! You're trying to scare me, are you? You couldn't frighten a retarded schizophrenic!"
"I--"
"You're so sorry, your hair hurts. You have to wear a paper bag when you're on the phone. You have toothpicks, not legs. You--"
He hit the floor like a sack of potatoes, unconscious and bleeding from a dent in his face, Rekin standing over him with a frying pan with her wicked wide smile. "He was such a meanie!" she said, and took her seat behind her desk, hiding the frying pan in a drawer. The other students hardly dared to breathe.
"I'm so glad he fell asleep!" she squeaked. "Now, moving on to today's potions lesson..."
That night, Dumbledore called a teacher's conference. As soon as everyone was seated, he started announcements of why they had been called on such short notice.
"Ahem," he began. "It has come to my attention..." He stared hard at McGonagall over his gibbous-moon spectables (a step up from half!). She gulped nervously (and had since changed out of the bikini back into her normal dress).
He went on. "...that Minerva has been 'fraternizing' with multiple people!" Gasps echoed from those gathered and Argus and Severus erupted into a shouting match.
"Silence!" Albus commanded and they settled into grumbling. "Now, Minerva. We need to know: which one of us do you truly love?"
Minerva looked at Dumbledore. Dumbledore looked at Minerva. Minerva looked at Snape. Snape looked at Minerva. Dumbledore looked at Snape. Minerva looked at Argus. Argus looked at Minerva. Snape looked at Argus. Argus looked at Snape. Snape looked at Dumbledore. Dumbledore looked at Argus. Argus looked at Dumbledore. Professors Sprout, Trelawney and Flitwick started a rousing game of Go Fish, and luckily Minerva started to speak before it devolved into Strip Go Fish.
"I love...Argus Filch!" McGonagall declared and dove headlong at him, meeting at the lips loudly and with much slurping. The two toppled to the floor in a pile of moley wrinkles, entangled gray locks, and a vicious tongue wrestling match. Snape looked detested and Albus shrugged the pain away.
"Ah, well. Now that that's cleared up, it--" The two snogging teachers had rolled off into a corner and a series of noises best described like an overworked plunger forced the Headmaster to cough and raise his voice to be heard. "--It has also come to my attention that you, Sybil, have been sleeping with Harry Potter!" This elicited only half the gasps as the first announcement.
"I can explain everything," Trelawney said in a haughty, self-assured tone. "You see, I was drinking a cup of tea, and when I'd finished, I saw...a message! In...the leaves!" She began to slip into Melodramatic Mode, the sort that always made Ron snicker during classes. "I kne-e-ew that Ha-arry would need a good, mature wife...before...HE DI-I-IED!"
"Weren't you with Gilderoy, though?" said Professor Vector...and for all of you who are now rushing to your books to check that he exists and that the author isn't pulling random words for names out of her ass here, he is, in fact, the Arithmancy teacher.
"Gilderoy!" Trelawney huffed. "Why, that old fraud. I couldn't associate with someone who so clearly has no idea what he's doing." Snape rolled his eyes. Flitwick and Sprout shared a laughing-on-the-inside glance. Sybil did not notice as she continued, "I knew then...after my tea, that is, of course...that the only boy for me was...The Boy Who Lived!"
"Says The Woman Who Thinks He Won't," Snape muttered under his breath.
The sounds echoing up from the closet that Minerva and Argus has recently taken up residency in were nothing short of what one might hear if both boots got stuck in a mudhole and had to be yanked out by force, followed by popping corks out of wine bottles while hiccoughing on a trampoline.
"Well, I think that concludes today's conference," Dumbledore said, rising slowly. "I'll see you all next week, and, Severus..."
"Yes?"
"Good luck getting rid of that tail of yours."