"So who's going in first?" Mouse asked.
"We all go in first," Manson drawled in a horribly fake French accent, "there is no first in this... sect!"
"Did you say sex?" Sirius asked brightly.
"No," Mouse handed him her own magically-appearing poptart. "Shut up."
"Yes, mahster," Manson said.
"Not you."
"Oh, right."
So they all marched up the stairs, side by side by side.
Hey, there were three of them, how else were they gonna do it?
Manson popped up and chibied into text "threesome?!"
"No!" Mouse screamed, "no het! No yuri! My eyes! My poor bloody eyes!"
"You've been hanging around Spike toooooo much," Manson cackled.
"I have reasons for that."
"Oh, dear."
"Oh, dear?! What do you mean 'oh, dear'?! Did I say oh, dear to you the day you jumped off the roof with a trash bag parachute? Did I say oh, dear to you the day you were doing donuts with the lawn mower?"
"That was fun!"
"It wasn't even a riding mower!"
"What's your point?"
"Never mind. Did I oh, dear you when you mistook the bleach for mouthwash? Did I oh, dear you the eighty-seventh time you ran into your bedroom door?"
"No, seems ta me you were just laughing a lot."
"Exactly! So no 'oh, dearing' my slash addiction!"
"Since when are you so un-apathetic?"
"Since when do you use words with more than one syllable?"
"What's a syllable?"
"This is the longest stairway I've ever climbed," Sirius remarked.
"Shut up!" both girls screamed, stuffing poptarts into his mouth.
A moment - or eighteen - later, they were outside a door.
"You knock."
"Right!" Manson slammed her head against the door.
"Not like that."
"That's the only way I ever learned."
"Boy, does that explain a lot."
"Come in!" called a cheerful voice.
"AhhhhhhhhhhhhHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!" screamed Manson. "Satan! Satan is within! Run for your sooooooouuuuuuuullllllllllllllsssssssss!!"
"Just go in," Mouse sighed.
"Okay!" Manson opened the door and bounced inside.
She came face to face with a bearded man in fuchsia robes spattered with green and turquoise stars.
"My eyes! They bleeeeeeeeeeeeed!" she fell down on the floor and died in a puddle. Or pretended to.
It's hard to tell with Manson...
"Can I help you, Severus?" Albus Dumbledore asked.
Mouse sighed. It had been fun pretending to be Snape at first. Now, with everyone believing it even though she was almost two feet shorter - not to mention the wrong sex, well...
It was getting scary.
"Hey!" Manson had a miraculous recovery. "What's Gandalf doing here, anyway?"
"That's not Gandalf," Mouse sighed.
"Who is this, Severus? I don't recognize him."
Him?!
"Uh..."
"Oh, those are Mr. Malfoy's robes. Another hex by the Gryfindors, Mr. Malfoy?"
"Yeah, sure, Gandy!"
"It's not Gandalf!" Mouse replied, regaining some of her apathetic-ness. Is that a word?
"Yes it is!"
"No, it's not."
"Yes!!"
"No."
"WhhhhhhhAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaa!! Want Gandy!"
"Fine." Mouse did the magical snapping fingers bit, and a confused Wizard in a big pointy hat showed up.
"Gandy!" Manson screamed, and clung to his feet.
"What the...?" Gandalf stared down.
"Ah, a fellow Wizard!" The twinkle in Dumbledore's eye, Mouse thought, should be observed by an optometrist. That couldn't be healthy.
"Lemon drop?" Neither could those things. They looked like congealed... um, yeah.
Never mind.
"Poptart?" Sirius popped up and asked.