Crispy: Sorry for the delay, but ZA and I have been ill, and then...
ZA: Finals happened.
Crispy: Exactly.
ZA: Come on in, Headmaster! It's time for the disclaimer.
Dumbledore: I'm so glad you invited me. I must admit the staff room is a bit cramped right now, but it's interesting to see how far our students have come.
Crispy: Yes. You should hurry and do the disclaimer so you can get back. You don't want to miss anything.
Dumbledore: Oh, of course not! Zsugami Alba does not own Harry Potter or Star Wars or that company that makes the yummy breading for frying chicken.
ZA: Excellent. Electricity!
Dumbledore: Oop!
Chapter 17: Midterms, Part Three
Back in the crowded staff room, the professors were observing the proceedings with a mixture of horror and delight.
"Is it just me, or do they seem to be herding the aurors to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom?" asked Flitwick.
Snape leaned forward for a closer look at the projection of the castle. "Hmm...yes. They've obviously set a trap there. The room's full of second years, and the floor appears to be covered in parchment. Perhaps they've scattered Lego pieces across the room."
Burbage frowned in confusion. "What would be the point of that?"
Snape scoffed. "Obviously you don't have children."
"Neither do you, Severus," snapped McGonagall.
"No," he conceded, "But I have guardianship over an entire houseful, and Draco has been experimenting with muggle toys."
Sprout winced. "Ouch. Poor Severus. Those things are evil."
The pureblood professors looked completely lost, so Snape filled them in. "Legos are quite possibly the hardest, sharpest objects known to mankind. They're used to build things, but they're excruciating when stepped on."
Flitwick shuddered. "And they allow children to play with them?"
"Obviously."
Sprout shrugged. "The suggested age is 8 years and up, but they're really only dangerous when they're left lying on the floor and stepped on by an unsuspecting passer by."
McGonagall frowned as she watched events unfold on the third floor. "Has anyone noticed that Harry Potter has been behaving rather...oddly today? I'm worried he's under too much stress."
Snape adopted an expression of exaggerated disbelief. "Potter behaving oddly? Whatever would cause you to suggest anything amiss with such a normal, bright boy? Admittedly, it is a bit unusual for a student to suffer a two-month bout of dysentery and survive, but Pomfrey has assured us that he's completely recovered."
McGonagall looked appalled. "Dysentery? What on earth are you talking about? Surely you don't believe those rumors?"
Snape eyebrows rose, and he lifted his hands palms upward in a gesture of mock innocence. "Does anyone really know what happened?"
Everyone turned to Dumbledore, who was just exiting the portaloo. He froze the moment he realized all eyes were staring at him. Blushing furiously, he said, "I did cast a deodorizing charm."
Kingsley held his wand at the ready as he tread softly down the darkened corridor. "I told them I had a bad feeling about this," he muttered to himself. He spotted a crumpled form up ahead and edged closer, keeping an eye out for enemy combatants. The wandlight revealed the form to be Auror Pickett, unconscious and wearing a balloon hat. "Pickett! What have they done to you? Where's Dawlish?" A quick assessment revealed that the auror had been struck from behind by a blunt object. "They're not even using their wands." Kingsley quickly dragged his colleague behind a statue of a humpbacked witch. "You'll be safe here. I'll return with reinforcements," Kingsley assured him before heading down a back staircase towards the central courtyard.
Tonks had never been more thankful for her metamorphmagus abilities. So far, she'd managed to sneak past various groups of rabid students by assuming the form of a timid first year. It was pure luck that she had observed them being used as couriers. Apparently, Pickett and Butkus were down, Umbridge had been bounced from Fifth to Third floor, Dawlish had been spotted running for his life and screaming something about mimes and balloons, and no one had seen Franklin. She hoped Kingsley was still in the game, but she wasn't going to depend on it. "I have to get to the Headmaster's office. He'll protect me as a member of the Order."
"The mimes! The mimes!" Dawlish was trembling and feverish with fright. "How did they know? Nobody knows my secret. There are no clowns in the wizarding world." He cast his eyes about him before making a mad dash toward the central staircase. He had to get out of there.
Draco was having the time of his life. He was a Jedi knight commanding his troops for the Rebel Army. He had spent a precious three hours in the library before discovering the spell that would convert his wand to a light saber. It had been written in the margins of a third year Potions text that proclaimed itself the property of The Halfblood Prince, whoever that was. He waved his elegant weapon before him. It was green. First lightsabers are always green.
"Someone's coming!" Blaise hissed.
Draco deactivated his lightsaber as Blaise ducked back around the corner. "Quick," he commanded, "Hand me the item."
"The item?" asked Blaise. "Are you being purposefully vague?"
Draco sniffed. "Of course I am. It's more mysterious that way. Besides, I could call it a thingamadoodle and you'd still know what I meant. Now hand it over."
Blaise's shoulders slumped. "I wanted to do the first one, Draco," he sighed as he carefully placed a glowing bottle in his commander's outstretched hand.
"I told you to call me Darth Krakken," Draco chided.
"That's not even a Jedi name; it's a Sith name!"
"Mimes! Must escape the mimes!" shouted the approaching Delauror.
"Doesn't he realize we can hear him?" muttered Blaise.
Draco took a moment to admire the potion's layers of purple, green, yellow, and orange. "All Imperial soldiers are lunatics," he stated before stepping out to the center of the corridor. He shook the bottle high above his head. "Halt! In the name of The Force!"
Dawlish skid to a stop, eyes wide. Draco dashed the bottle to the floor just a few yards in front of the frightened man.
The second the bottle cracked, exposing the potion to air, there was an impressive explosion, and a nearby tapestry caught fire. Dawlish lost his footing and hit his head on a low-hanging gargoyle, rendering him unconscious.
The noise and tremors caught the attention of a passing complement of Hufflepuffs. "Cool! What was that?"
Draco turned to them with a proud grin on his face. "It's Shake 'N Break, and I helped!"
"I think we should dock points for destruction of school property," said McGonagall.
"Oh, I don't know," said Dumbledore. "That tapestry was an eyesore. I've been tempted to set fire to it myself."
No sooner had Kingsley stepped out into the courtyard than he was pelted with dungbombs thrown by students on brooms.
"Get him!" shouted Katie Bell. "You need to work on your accuracy, McClaggen! You throw like a boy!"
Kingsley dove for cover under a stone bench. Out of the corner of his eye, a flash of green robes caught his attention. He turned his head to see a rather scruffy-looking man wearing a helmet. "Help me, man!" Kingsley cried.
"Sorry," said the man in a sing-song voice as he pointed to a sign affixed to his helmet, "Observer!" Kingsley could only stare incredulously as the man gave him two thumbs up. "Keep going! You're doing great!"
"Stop...you...miscreant!" huffed Umbridge as she staggered after the Potter boy. She aimed another hex at him, but he dodged it nimbly and shouted another ridiculous ditty.
"Yo! I told you you can't touch this! Why you standing there, man, you can't touch this! Yo! Sound the bells! School is in, sucker! You can't touch this!" Potter shouted rhythmically as the hat atop his head emitted all sorts of rude sounds.
Charity couldn't believe her ears. "Is the Sorting Hat actually beatboxing?"
"Obviously," drolled Severus.
Umbridge chased after the disgusting duo with renewed purpose. "I am going to incinerate that hat!" She was so enraged that she failed to notice the ever-growing mass of students following behind her.
Potter led her through several turns before making a beeline to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. "Ha!" Umbridge crowed. "I'll have him cornered!" She added more speed and burst into the classroom just seconds behind her prey.
"AAGH!" she screamed in agony as pain lanced through her feet. Someone had vanished her shoes midstep, and her feet had landed on the hardest, sharpest objects known to man. Yes, Legos. Obviously. "What on earth?" Then the parchment strewn about the floor flew upwards as the net beneath it was triggered, scooping up the irate inquisitor as it rose toward the ceiling. "Release me at once! I demand it!" Umbridge cried.
"It's no use, ma'am," sighed a voice to her left. Umbridge turned to see several nets and cages hanging from various points in the ceiling - each holding one or two aurors. "We've been soundly defeated."
Padma stared at Hermione, hardly believing her ears. "You mean we aren't being quizzed on curriculum?" she asked.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "No, I told you it's a practical exam. We're applying our knowledge by defending the castle against intruders. If you see an auror, take them out."
"But what do I do with all these books I've brought?" Padma fussed.
Hannah Abbott huffed in exasperation. "Use them!"
"How?" Padma asked.
"Like this!" shouted Hannah, and she grabbed an especially thick tome on wild daisy pollination and swung it forcefully to her right where it impacted on Draco's face.
"Ow! I'm on your side!" he cried.
Hannah looked unimpressed. "Then you should have announced your approach."
"But I was humming the Imperial March," he replied.
Hermione squinted as she took in Draco's attire. "Malfoy, why are you dressed like a Jedi?"
"I'm leading the Rebel Forces against the Empire," he informed her. "And I'm not Malfoy, I'm Darth Krakken."
Padma looked confused. "But that's a Sith name."
Draco rose to his feet and dusted himself off. "Does a Sith have a cool lightsaber like this?" He brandished his wand theatrically, and a green blade of light extended from the tip. "Cool, isn't it?"
Hannah still looked unimpressed. "Draco, why are you here?"
"There's only one auror left," he said. "It's the woman. Last I saw, she was headed in this direction."
A flash of light shot past Draco's ear and hit the wall. Hannah shoved him to the ground and threw her book, hitting an unfamiliar first year square in the chest with such force that it knocked the wind out of the poor lad, who immediately morphed back into Auror Tonks.
"That's no first year," breathed Hermione.
Draco looked from the downed auror to Hannah. "I love you!" he said.
Hannah looked down at him. "I know."
The entire staff were invited to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom at the end of the battle. Slytherin doffed his observer's helmet and addressed the invading army.
"Congratulations, and thank you for your participation in the first Magical v. Magical Midterm Examinations! Sure, it wasn't nearly as exciting as the ones where we employed the muggle villagers, but I think it was a valuable learning experience for everyone." He beamed at the dumbfounded aurors standing before him.
Dawlish slowly raised his hand. "You mean, this was a test?"
"Yes!" Slytherin nodded. "And I'm happy to say that our students passed with flying colors. You didn't do too badly yourselves, considering we had the element of surprise." The aurors all looked at each other in bewilderment. "One of you nearly made it to the Headmaster's office. A new record!"
"Get me out of this thing, you wretched man!" screamed Umbridge from her net, still hanging from the ceiling.
"I will once you've remembered your manners and I have your word that you'll never attack my school again," answered Slytherin.
"Your school?" she spat.
"Yes," said Slytherin. "I did help found it after all."
"I'll never surrender to the likes of you!" cried Umbridge.
"Pity," said Slytherin. He drew his wand. "Do try to avoid the water this time, if you please." With a flick, the net went sailing out the window and into the distant forest.
Dumbledore sank back into the chair behind his desk and peered at the man standing before him. "What was it you wished to speak to me about, Professor Slytherin?"
"Well," Sal began, "I was wondering if you could let Godric in on the secret. I can't very well leave him to his own devices in the castle."
Dumbledore frowned. "Secret? What secret?"
"The location of the Order's headquarters," replied Sal. "I want to bring Godric with me for Christmas break."
Dumbledore looked shocked. "How do you know about the Order headquarters? And why are you planning to spend Christmas there?"
Sal smiled benignly. "Oh, we can drop the act in here, Headmaster. We both know who I really am."
"You mean you're not Salazar Slytherin?" asked Dumbledore. "I could have sworn the castle recognized you as such."
Sal shrugged. "Well, yes. I am Salazar Slytherin, but we both know I wasn't born with that name. He's sort of the Clark Kent to my Superman, isn't he? Or would that be the Superman to my Clark Kent?" He frowned. "I am cooler as Salazar, so he could easily be Superman. On the other hand, Harry is considered by many to be the savior of the wizarding world, so he could easily be Superman, too." Sal continued to mumble to himself as the truth began to dawn on Dumbledore.
"You mean to tell me that you are Harry Potter?" he asked.
Now it was Sal's turn to look surprised. "Of course I am. Don't tell me you didn't know. You always know everything."
Dumbledore shook his head. "How was I supposed to know this?"
"But…" Sal's expression started to wilt. "You twinkled at me."
"I twinkle at everyone, my dear boy," said Dumbledore. "It's what I do."
Sal looked even sadder. "But you gave me the special Harry twinkle that you only give to me."
"Er…" stalled Dumbledore.
"So...I'm not...special?"
"Er…"
"We're going to need therapy after this," muttered Took.
"What's therapy?" asked Dawlish as he signaled the bartender for another round.
"It's sort of like mind healing," Took explained. "I've got a squib cousin who specializes in it. He solves all sorts of mental problems: addictions, anxiety, post traumatic stress, phobias…"
"Phobias?" asked Dawlish.
"Yeah, you know. Arachnophobia, claustrophobia, agoraphobia, coulrophobia…"
"What's coulrophobia?" asked Pickett.
"Fear of clowns," piped up Tonks. Everyone shuddered.
"I hate clowns," muttered Kingsley. "Freak me out."
Butkus nodded. "Did you see that girl dressed as a mime? Nearly wet myself."
Pickett frowned. "I thought she was rather sweet. She gave me this hat."
Tonks eyed him critically. "However did you make it through the academy?'
Aberforth approached their table with a tray full of frothy mugs. "So I hear there was a bit of excitement up at the castle."
The aurors all gave him tired nods.
"Who made it the furthest?"
"What do you mean?" asked Kingsley.
"I mean," said Aberforth, "Who made it furthest into the castle?"
They all looked at each other. "I suppose it was Tonks," said Kingsley. "She nearly made it to the Headmaster's office."
Aberforth beamed at her. "Well, then! Drinks are on the house for you, Nymphadora!"
"Don't call me Nymphadora!" shouted Tonks. "And keep 'em coming!"
"Hey," said Took, looking around. "Where's Franklin?"
Hogwarts, in a broom cupboard on the First floor…
Day 4: The caretaker has been kind. His cat, Mrs. Norris, brings me the odd mouse to sate my hunger. Meager provisions for which I am grateful.
