A Merry Feast

AN: Boo! Yes, I fell of the edge of existence and died. But such petty things could never stop me.

My first evening as a Hogwarts teacher consisted of many a pleasant virtue. One may call me sadistic, however, I prefer the term , 'Deprivation of mercy' or 'brutal' or perhaps even 'ruthless'. Sadism simply sounds as if I attempted to sexually harass my students .Which I did not. Really, believe me , I have some class. Perhaps by the third or fourth date of my acquaintance I'll have my students against a wall panting and mad with lust, but, not at the moment.

I escorted the Pansy Prat Posse to the Great Hall by their ears and preceded to swat their bums with an invisible nightstick I'd purchased during my years at Hogwarts, such jolly fun. It was especially amusing, as they turned around constantly , searching for the weapon, or culprit , finding only me , glaring mercilessly and shoving them forward. Then as we arrived , I tripped the pissy-arsed phony cockney and charmed the back of her skirt so that it was hooked onto her backside and half the Hogwarts population could be allowed the pleasure of observing enormous knickers climb slowly up her arse. She didn't notice , and her friend Marle or Marlene or whatever muttered a counter-curse before I had the chance to point it out to the teachers. Then, ignoring the stares , I walked up to the teacher's table and sat down.

I can remember , during my schooling years, my admiring glances upon the table. I always thought the golden utensils, attractive nosh and intellectual company would stimulate the gears of my brain into action and I would realize my purpose (and stop ejaculating at regular intervals ( well—stop looking at me like that—I was eleven , what control—if any—was expected of me?)) . However, once you reach those 'untouchable' places (and no, darlings , I do not mean your arse-holes) , you find that miniscule things may undermine their glowing halos. In my case , it was the fact that the food Professor Slughorn seemed to be shoving in inconspicuous amounts into his gaping trap was not—unfortunately for those of us whom were in line of vision—staying there but, quite stubbornly, flying about in every other conceivable direction.

"Jammmmesss, m'boy!" Splat! Well, sure, I'd like some potatoes on my face.

"Hello, Professor Slughorn." My tone was less than enthusiastic.

He swallowed, some of my now colleagues lowered their wand s and protective napkin shields , sighing gratefully.

"No, no, no, m'boy! I'm now Horace to you!" he replied cheerfully , paying no mind whatsoever that I was not(as he obviously believed me to be) watching his face interestedly but, watching his five chins slide and wobble over some mind-bogging amounts of mint jelly.

"Oh! Oh, well what an honor it is, sir!" I said after a minute or so " I've never been on casual terms with my educators…." I trailed off, realizing what a bollocks statement that was. The other professors did too, however, no one said a word, and the walrus continued his jolly meal.

Who didn't know about Caroline Botanique and myself? Few were spared from the intimate details of our relationship, short as it was.

For some strange reason I do not pretend to understand, I was still attending Herbology during sixth year. Dear Professor Sprout had been bitten recently by her Drangonsblossom plant and for two days the class had been a free period. In other more simplistic words, TOTAL CHAOS. Dumbledore realized we were not making good use of our time and (despite our fervent protests ) hired a substitute Professor.

Sweet little Caroline Botanique , fresh out of Beuxbatons , and with the disposition of a French Maid, was hurtled head-first into a class half-full of randy male adolescents .

At the time , I though Dumbledore a fool.

Anyway, to make a long tale short, by the third day of class I had her bent over some pots of Mandrake , screeching some rubbish on protective gloves upon her arse (some daft fantasy of hers').

For a month, I had the little charade going, which was surprising , considering the longest I'd been in a 'relationship' with a bird so far had been two weeks. It must've been the accent that kept me interested. Until, finally, we were caught.

"Professor McGonagall?" she called softly from the door.

"Yes, what is it Caroline?" Minnie made it a point to call mon petit Caroline by her first name.

"May I 'ave Mister Potter pleaze?" she flung her hair over her shoulder " It zis a matter d'importance grave"

"Oh really?" McGonagall huffed " How many matters of grave importance must happen this week?"

"Um….Zis abou' 'is grand-père!" she said desperately.

"Do you mean the one whom was attacked, mugged and murdered last week?" Minnie snapped , giving me a dangerous glare.

"Ahh…non. Zis is ze one on 'is mother' side" the class snickered , and Caroline smiled as if re-encouraged. Did I mention she was barely smarter than a pretty rock?

"Well then , Mister Potter, I will escort you to Professor Dumbledore's office. Caroline, take care of the class until I return , will you?"

It wasn't really a question , considering the fact that we were out of the classroom before she finished the sentence.

Need I say more?

The ending fact is that Minnie told on us when we got to Dumbledore's office , leaving me 'speechless', 'shocked' and 'offended'. Then of course they called Caroline in and she confessed everything, including some added bits about a force-fed love potion and some ' dark spell-work' on my part. In which part I jumped in , (actually offended) and proclaimed "I don't need bloody love potions and spell-work, those are petty weapons for unattractive people such as yourself. If anything, you should be thanking me".

Ahh, good times, good times.

Slughorn had stopped talking , his mouth clamped shut and his pig-like little eyes, merrily observing his most favored students, otherwise known as the 'Slug Club'. I have some pity for those select few, in my day , the only members of the Slug Club were a scattered academically inapt boys, with pretty bums and angel-faces. However, that must've changed , since I recall Dumbledore threatening to cancel the 'meetings' if he did not pick academically successful students over the age of eleven. I believe Slughorn grudgingly accented, though he still held small parties now and then for his 'Senior Members'. Pity.

Huh, such depressing thoughts on such a merry night, how ludicrous! James Potter is not one to botch joyful occasions, if only something interesting would happen! Please! It'll only be then that I'll stop reminiscing! Why are all these kids so attentive? It's like a bloody morgue in here! Oohohohoh, shudder. Let me change that phrase , 'It's like a ruddy morgue in here!' , see , much more acceptable, it's phrases like that that cause my mental deconstruction to accelerate.

Oh! Dumbledore's talking. No wonder, the mummy's got loads of attention , and James Potter only receives stray glances from the few Quidditch fanatics that thought they saw me announced as a Chaser, but can't remember correctly. Sigh.

"You must all be wary of your surroundings at all times…" Blah.Blah.Blah. "….would like to warn you all of the dangers of Voldermort…" few scattered gasp there….wait. I don't care. "Finally, on a lighter nte. We have a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, James Potter."

Why is everyone bloody looking at me now? Can't they bloody see I'm trying to take a sodding nap?

Oh. Right. Bugger.

I stand up, and Dumbledore seems relieved. The applause is loudest from the seventh-years. It seems they remember me. Joy.

"Now he will say a few words" he points to the podium….bugger. You notice all the shit I have to deal with, constantly? Someone of my superior appearance should be fed bloody berries at all times by a voluptuous female who's aforementioned breasts block my vision as they are so huge , they will be my salvation and obscure all outside influences , and I will no longer be bothered by petty matters such as teaching and sodding speeches.

I'm in front of the podium….so Jamie…..it seems you must wing it , as usual.

"Hehehheh…." Sooo, the nervous laughter is a start , but perhaps one aught to articulate a bit more. "Well, I have a few lessons prepared for you….ladies" they giggled. All of them! It's amazing that with one simple amusing phrase I have three fourths of the male population loathing me. The other fourth? They seem to be longingly looking in my direction.

"Cocky Sod!"

Who else but Evans?

"Don't despair Miss uh….Evans, was it? You can join the other ladies during lessons, despite your resemblance to the male gender"

Most of the Great Hall laughed appreciatively, I'm brilliant. I know, you aren't so…don't talk to me.

"I bear no resemblance to the male gender!" she yelled at me, standing on her table and glaring furiously , hahaha…she is so marvelously …endearing. "I can say the same for you" she added , smirking superiorly.

Ha, now most of the females glared in her direction. That's the price for obscuring my godly aura with meaningless insults.

"I'll choose to ignore that statement, after all, Miss Evans is still under the influence of a heavy dosage of mental-medication. Now ladies, and uh…boys" more scowls " I'll be sure to make lessons as entertaining as possible for you" Throw in a pinch of sexual innuendo and they all blush and giggle.

"Oh and I'm sure those will be awful fun" Evans commented loudly.

"You know they say sarcasm is the lowest form of wit"

"I know." She smirked "But I think they were being sarcastic."

Evans gets me angry. How is it that a bloody seventh-year can continue a conversation with me , without being outwitted? I am the Great James Potter! If anything, they should change my last name to Bond, I'm that extraordinary. But this puny ,pathetic red-head is not affected by that whatsoever!

Am I loosing my touch?

"Well, I believe that's been enough for one evening," Dumbledore shoved me gently from the podium, and I sent one last glare at Evans (whose only visible feature was her nose sniffing the air in an obvious gloat). "You must all be starving. Well then , let me not keep you any longer. Tuck in."

Oh yes, there will be revenge.

(On my part fools, I will get my revenge!)

AN:

THUMPER was an immense success . And the condoms and lubricant are restocked, so I have much to offer. I imagine my customer's virtual sex-lives are in the epitomes of Triumph, and that makes me happy.

Politicians all over the U.S. are becoming virtuous, blaming their earlier corruption on sexual frustration, wouldn't you like to be a part of the revolution?

Request in the form of reviews!

Good night and good romps!