Chapter 7; You're Fired and I Quit


Ginny had always been a problematic child.

The new, Evil Ginny brought new meaning to the word problematic.

"Potter," Evil Ginny hissed satanically as she strode down the corridor, unknowingly mimicking her brother.

Good Ginny trailed along desperately behind her, trying to get a word in around Evil Ginny's sadistic hissing.

Good Ginny began lecturing. "Have you ever considered rethinking your principles, ethics, morals, or values? Have you ever even once questioned your motives for wanting to kill Harry? I mean, being evil for the sake of being evil is just hypocritical, wouldn't you agree? Most evil masterminds at least have a motive for being sadistic and apathetic. But you . . . you don't even have a reason! I'm just saying that you haven't considered the philosophical and moral repercussions that your actions will have. You haven't, have you? I believe that you're just misunderstood, all evil people are just misunderstood, you don't really have a reason for killing these people! In fact, you just need a hug!"

Evil Ginny, who had been practicing necromancy quietly in the corner, hissed, "I don't need you anymore! Conscience was never good for anything anyway!"

Good Ginny shook her head. This problem was beyond her own remedy. She needed a professional opinion.

Severus Snape and Simon Cowell stared one another down.

Snape hissed darkly. "Your appointment time is up, Mr. Cowell."

Simon Cowell stood up and made for the door. "That appointment was ghastly," Cowell said cuttingly, in a fake British accent. "You are possibly the worst psychiatrist on the face of the earth."

Simon stomped out pompously and slammed the door.

He had never liked reality T.V. shows.

"Next on this atrocious appointment list is . . . it can't be . . . Donald Trump?"

The door opened. Donald Trump and his attendants walked in and stood stiffly, trying to look intimidating. Trump spoke.

"Severus Snape, that is the ninety first customer you have driven away. I'm sorry to say this, but . . ."

Trump pointed an accusing finger at him and glared.

"YOU'RE FIRED."

Snape was absolutely spitting with rage. "That toupee isn't fooling anyone," Snape snarled with a leer.

"Well . . ." said Trump, apparently at a loss for words, "You're fired."

This seemed to be the extent of his vocabulary.

Smirking darkly, Snape slammed the door shut after Trump.

There was a knock on the door.

He twitched.

Who could it possibly be now?

He looked at his appointment timetable. Not another Weasely, he thought wearily.

It was, in fact, the same Weasely that had visited him last time. Or rather, half of her.

"Professor Snape?"

He let out a sigh of relief. At least it's the good one.

"Of course I'm the good one," Good Ginny said agreeably, "but I have a problem!"

"I knew you'd be back, Weasely," Snape said bitterly, "let me guess . . . you have somehow landed yourself in the exceedingly pathetic predicament of having an Evil Twin Sister who is systematically planning Harry Potter's demise using a number of somewhat illegal and undeniably inhuman enchantments which include but are not limited to Demonic Summoning, Unforgivables, spontaneous combustion, necromancy, and Distributing Phone Numbers to Insurance Marketers."

"Exactly, Professor! I knew you'd understand! Evil Ginny will stop at nothing to kill Harry . . .!" she cried, looking somewhat upset.

Snape tapped his quill on the desk in an agitated manner.

"And your point is . . .?"

Good Ginny gasped. "How could you tolerate the murder of a-nother human being!"

"Potter isn't human," Snape hissed hatefully, "neither was his father, neither was his grandfather, neither was his great Uncle Eulfrid."

"Is that the one who left the treasure?" she asked curiously, having heard of Lucius' evil plan.

"Indeed," said Snape.

"What should I do?" she asked fearfully. "Evil Ginny is out to destroy the world!"

Snape smirked.

He had known this was going to happen. He had a plan to get rid of Potter, Weasely, and Evil Ginny once and for all. And he wouldn't involve himself. And he would move to Hawaii without having to pay airfare expenses.

"How will you do that? There's no avoiding airfare expenses, you know," Ginny chimed in.

"Shut up, Weasely. Stop reading my mind."

"I'm not reading your mind, I'm reading your lips."

"How would you like to read my fist?" Snape said wickedly. Once he had calmed, he said, "I do have a . . . solution. Take this Time-Turner, go back in Time, and fix what you have done. If you want to save yourself, bring more back into the future."

"What do you mean?"

"Leave me, child. I want to drink this bourbon and wallow in my own self-invented misery."


Ginny flipped the Time-Turner over and began spinning.

"Cheer up, now, Lucius. This isn't the worst plan you've ever had. There was that one time in the eighties when you decided to . . ."

"Never mention the eighties to me, Wormtail," Lucius hissed, glancing around in a paranoid fashion.

"Um . . . Lucius?" asked Wormtail quietly.

"What?" came his hiss.

"Have you ever considered . . . well . . . maybe just performing Avada Kedavra on the Potter brat?"

"Shut up, Wormtail!" Lucius snapped condescendingly. "That's the most ridiculous scheme I've ever heard. Do you even realize how many flaws there are in that plan?"

"Name one," Wormtail replied, crossing his arms.

Lucius had a flashback.

It was 1981.

"We have but one, chance, Wormtail," Lucius whispered to his comrade. "One chance to eliminate Harry Potter."

The brat was only one year old. Little did they know, Voldemort was already inside.

A baby was crying somewhere.

They somehow managed to climb through the second story window, and they crouched behind the crib.

From across the room, a tall man in a dark cloak was facing the crying baby.

"It's probably James," Lucius whispered.

It wasn't James.

"On my mark, Wormtail, we attack the baby," Lucius said quietly.

The man in the dark cloak raised his wand.

"I'll get rid of the baby, as well as the parents," said the man.

The figure in the dark cloak who was really Voldemort sent a green spell flying across the room. It missed the crib. Almost immediately after, Wormtail and Lucius fired the Killing Curse. It also missed the crib...

...And slammed right into Voldemort's chest.

There sounded a screeching, bubbling cry, and the creature that Lucius realized Wasn't Really James seemed to melt into the ground.

Harry Potter wriggled in the crib, completely unscathed.

Sirius Black ran into the room, and Lucius ducked.

"It's a miracle," whispered Sirius reverently, lifting the baby out of the crib.

"Lucius? Lucius!" cried Wormtail worriedly.

"I have a plan," said Lucius quietly.

"Oh really," said Wormtail skeptically.

"It's a good plan."

"That's an improvement."

"First," said Lucius, regaining his slightly maniacal veneration, "we fly to America and join American Idol. Then . . . once we win the money, we fly to Mexico and compile an army of abstract MariachiBandsAfter that, we fly to Cambodia and teach them guerilla warfare tactics. Then we fly to Hogwarts, and form Mariachi ranks around the walls. Then we start playing bad Mexican music and blow down the walls with the high frequency cornets, just like in the Tale of Jericho(never forget your predecessors, Wormtail)! Then we inconspicuously sneak into the boys dormitory and while everyone else is distracted by the grenade wielding Mariachi Bands, we don Mexican sombreros and attack Potter in his sleep. Potter has a weakness for Mariachi bands, Wormtail. He won't know what hit him."

"You know what, Lucius?" Wormtail said earnestly.

"What?"

"That's a great plan. Have fun carrying it out."

"Huh?"

"I quit,"Wormtail said blatantly, and walked away.

"Never mind that, Wormtail," Lucius said pompously, "Never mind that at all. Wait . . . what? Wormtail!"

There was silence.

"Fine!" Lucius yelled to his retreating accomplice. "I never needed you! All you ever did was hold me up! I . . . I'll . . . I'll do it myself! Mark my words, Wormtail! There will be an army of fully trained Mariachi bands here by Friday!"

Lucius went off to buy a plane ticket to America.