Chapter Eight: Snape's in the Closet

"So, did anyone find out what went on with the cradillos thing?" Harry whispered to Cora in the middle of Divination.

"Pfft! No. They couldn't reach any conclusion." Cora grumbled. "I think the gobs of money Malfoy's pater put under the investigator's noses were distracting them too much."

"Cora, you're unusually cynical today." Bridgit noted.

"Yeah, I usually get this way in her class." Cora sighed, going back to attempting to listen to her "teacher".

"So, the Garden of the Silver Wedding, located in Eastern Greenwich, is used in a very complex fortune-telling process. In the middle of the garden surrounded by a sundial of sorts made of flowers is a statue of Nostradamus writing his famous "Book of the Future". His pen, which is a phoenix quill, was made out of enchanted, hand-blown glass. Every one hundred years the sun will reach its zenith, which is the exact position needed for it to shine directly through the quill in a focused beam of sunlight that will strike a certain part of the garden, thus lighting it on fire."

At this point in the lesson, everyone stared at her in disbelief.

"The portion of the garden that does not burn down indicates the type of plague that will sweep the nation of Great Britain. For instance, one hundred years prior, a plague of sour goat's milk swept the land. It was a terrible, terrible time." She finished in a misty voice, which was the only voice she ever used.

"Cool! Fire. This is some divination I can appreciate." Cora grinned.

"You're so destructive." Bridgit laughed.

"Why are you laughing?" Ron asked, fearfully eyeing Cora.

"Your homework for tomorrow is to research in your textbook, "I Spy With My Divination Eye" what plague will affect England this year when the destined event happens Wednesday afternoon. With that said, the class is over. I foresee you will have some difficulties in your next class, so I recommend that you steel yourself for the inevitable." She finished.

"Nooo!" Lavender and Parvati wailed.

"It would be troubling…if she didn't say that everyday after class." Harry
snickered.

"Yay! I love it when I get to use my imagination for homework." Bridgit cheered, loud enough for Trelawney to hear.

"Not 'imagination' dear, 'divination'. It's a common mistake. Students make it all the time." She smiled sleepily. "Actually, there may be a question about that on your exam. Wink wink!" She breezed past them.

"Let's get a head start." Cora suggested, blatantly ignoring her. "Let's see… England will be assaulted by a plague of noisy door hinges that squeak like excited fangirls."

"A plague of smelly olives!" Harry quickly scribbled down on his parchment.

"Let's see…" Ron paused to think. Outside, a player of pretend Quidditch (for people who suck at it) crashed into the window. "A plague of klutziness!"

"My turn!" Bridgit grinned. "A plague of fish rain."

"Very…interesting." Cora sighed. "And as much as I'd love to discuss the horrors of fish rain, I think we should maybe head to our next class, seeing as the room is now empty except for us."

"Blimey!" Harry exclaimed.

"Oh, I realize you children don't want to leave, but I have to retire to my hypobaric chamber for five hours' rest to retain my youthful beauty. I may look thirty-five, but I'm actually thirty-six. Can you believe it?"

"No!" Bridgit pretended to be shocked.

"You don't look a day over thirty-five and a half!" Cora said in pretend awe.

"Oh, you girls." Trelawny chuckled. "You're such a tease. Now go away." But they had already left in the middle of her sentence.

"I'm so lonely." She said in a small voice.

Harry and Ron hurried ahead so that they could finish their homework for history of magic before class began. Bridgit and Cora proceeded at a leisurely pace until Bridgit diverged down the opposite hallway.

"What gives? History's that way." Cora said.

"I have to go to the bathroom." Bridgit whined.

"Okay, just hurry up. I'll keep an eye on Harry and catch up with you in the snooze room."

"Y'know, he isn't a scary ghost, but I'm sure he could bore people to death faster than a bear-lion could maul a Hufflepuff to death." Bridgit laughed.

Cora headed down the hallway, books in one arm and pillow in the other. As she walked, she suddenly felt like she was being watched. She turned around and saw nothing. Then she looked down and saw Chewie, Blindie's not-so-faithful Seeing Eye dog. Cora bent down and began to scratch him under the chin.

"You're a good dog! Yeessss you are! Yesss you are! I'll bet Blindie never fed you. How could he? Poor puppy! You just wanted food. Didn't you? Yessss you did! That's why you ate the hateful thing." Chewie rolled on his back and started drooling.

"Okay, now you're just grossing me out. See you later, Chewie." Chewie barked happily and went off to go do some dog thing and Cora continued on her historical journey to history. Ha ha ha.

Bridgit emerged from the lou (because this is Britain) feeling ever so relieved, but not to the degree provided by Rolaids™. Taking her time walking down the hallway (the stupid ghost teacher never noticed when someone was late) she suddenly heard a faint sound echoing down the hallway. She concentrated and could almost make out strains of music playing nearby, which was odd because there was no music class in the entire school. In fact, Dumbledore was fiercely opposed to the fine arts, believing that they were "too gay".

Suspicious of the nature of the melody and wanting any excuse not to go to class, she crept quietly down the hallway, following the sound. As it got louder, she could make out the distinct voice of a violin winding its way in a metaphorical dance through the delicate nuances of an enchanting refrain. It was the most beautiful song she had ever heard. She sank to her knees and listened contentedly.

"I like music." She smiled like Trelawney.

Her rapture caused a sudden twinge in her memory, calling forth the recollection of the time when her school in Canada needed more money to buy science textbooks. It was a time before his reindeer farm enterprise where Trex resorted to starting his own church in order to raise funds. Calling it the 'Binary Church of Antarctica', he managed to get quite a following with a neat little trick. He would add brass notes that human beings couldn't hear, but still affected them physically and caused them to feel a combination of contentment and unease. Mistaking this for actual spirituality, the parishioners attended in droves. Too bad he forgot to pay fake church taxes and had to foreclose his religion. Angry at the failings of science, Trex used the textbook money remaining under his mattress to start up his reindeer farm.

"Something's not right." She was suddenly struck by an overdue realization. " The Stradivarius spell." She breathed. "But who would be using this? And why?" Then, as her mind slowly turned its wheels again, she made another realization.

"Wait a minute! That song is fatal! Someone's trying to kill someone else. Oh no! I must stop them."

She bolted down the hallway, following the clues in her ear much like a bloodhound will follow a smelly convict. Both could prove equally fatal.

Rounding a corner, she almost ran right into a janitor's closet that had a large, rusty padlock keeping it shut. The music, though still muffled, was coming from inside and drawing dangerously near its end. Being unsuccessful at blocking the sound from her ears now that she had listened to it for so long, she realized she had to get to the source of the spell and terminate it. She began to pick at the lock with a bobby pin she carried in her pocket.

"I'm just like the Bobsy twins!" She marveled at her resourcefulness. Her bobby pin broke.

"Oh no! And I haven't a granny pin on me! I'm doomed!" She cried. "Oh wait. I can use magic." She flung the shattered remains of the pin to the ground and cast a spell that melted the lock into molten metal, which gathered in a pool of glowing burning gunk on the floor which quickly ate through the stone and fell dangerously into the lower levels of the school.

"Much better." She said in satisfaction.

Flinging open the door, Bridgit quickly took in her surroundings, being painfully aware that she only had a few seconds left. There on the ground was Professor Snape. He looked like he was dead, but then again he always looked like he was dead. There was also a statue, a mop and an enchanted violin. It took her half a second to figure out which one was the bad thing.

She started kicking Professor Snape in the ribs.

"Why are you doing this? Do you want to die?" She yelled.

The music didn't stop with her kicking, and the song was almost on its last note. In desperation, she wound up for a super whammy kick, but missed. Losing her balance, she fell over backwards and crushed the violin into splinters with her ass.

"Oh no! I broke it!" She cried. "My ass is so fat!" She cried some more due to her poor body image issues. Eventually, as her sobs trailed off, she realized the music had stopped.

"Exactly as I planned." She nodded in satisfaction. She then looked at Professor Snape's prone form, trying to figure out how to revive him.

"Well, kicking solved the last problem, ergo…" She kicked him in the ribs. Again. Professor Snape yelled in pain and sat up, grabbing his aching side.

"Why aren't you in class?" He rasped. "Why does my side hurt?"

"I came to rescue you! But my princess is in another castle." Her fears that Snape would turn into a fly monster and jump away were sadly misplaced.

"How do I know you weren't the one trying to kill me?" He demanded.

"You mean you weren't committing suicide?" Bridgit tilted her head to one side, eyes wide. "Because I figured if there was one person who had nothing to live for in this school, it would be you."

"Don't be ridiculous! I have an eleven-year-old boy to exact my vengeance upon." Snape foamed.

"I'm pretty sure he's older than that." Bridgit ventured.

"I don't have time for petty details." He waved his hand.

"So, I totally saved your life." Bridgit smiled.

"Ten points from Gryffindor." Snape frowned.

"But you said you wanted to live!"

"I said no such thing!"

"C'mon. You should probably go to the medical wing." He was obviously senile.

"I'm fine!" He spat. He tried to stand, but fell into the outstretched arms of the statue. He glared at Bridgit.

"If word of this gets out, you fail potions." He snarled, trying not to look at the statue's nudey bits.

"But I'm doing so well!" Bridgit cried. Snape glowered at her in triumph and slumped to the ground.

"Of all the retarded students at this god-forsaken school, why did I have to get the one with delusions of grandeur?" Snape wanted to gouge his eyes out.

"Look, it wouldn't kill you to be even slightly nicer to me." Bridgit sighed, having difficulties trying to deal with these constraining group dynamics.

"Yes it would!" He screamed. Bridgit cocked an eyebrow.

"This should be interesting. How?"

"It's none of your business!" Snape snapped.

"But now I want to know!" Bridgit whined. "You can't just lead people around like that. It's mean!"

"Exactly." He smiled.

"Fine! I'll make up my own story. The president of the grumpy, mean middle-aged club elected you to be the figurehead leader of the group while he secretly controls your actions from the shadows so that if anything goes wrong you will be the scapegoat. So, you can't betray their code of meanness, or else he'll kill you." She finished with much gusto.

"That was so painfully stupid I am forced out of my feelings of self-preservation to tell the truth."

"Yeah, I have a knack for doing that to people. Trex says if there's ever a war, I'll get to be an interrogator!" Bridgit giggled. "I'm like Wonder Woman ™, only I use my words as weapons, instead of a magic lasso and actual justice!"

"God help us all." Snape sighed. "On to my dramatic, yet uncalled for confession. In the folly of youth, I foolishly decided once to become a death eater to get the attention of this girl I liked."

"Uh huh." She prompted him.

"The requirement for getting into the club was that you had the dark mark tattooed on your arm."

"Tattoos are cool! Can I see? Cora has a tattoo on her back and it's in the shape of a dragon. She got it this one summer when-"

"And so ends my tale." Snape finished.

"Wait! You didn't explain anything. You just tried to distract me so you could dodge out."

Snape growled. Upon hearing the awkward silence that ensued, he continued. "If I'm nice, the poisons locked in the tattoo will be unleashed into my bloodstream, causing me a slow and painful death. There is no known cure, so I can't be nice, ever."

"What was the point of that?" Bridgit asked.

"Lord Voldemort wanted to ensure an evil army. None of that deus ex machina change of heart crap." Snape explained.

"But didn't you turn against the Deatheaters? I mean, you're here. You seem not to be killing people."

"By being nasty and petty to innocent children I am able to prevent my inevitable demise for another day." Snape glared meanly at her.

"Cool! I wish I could have something to blame chronic meanness on! Then I could be a jackass and no one could do anything about it." Bridgit smiled dreamily.

Suddenly, the door to the closet was opened by a knife-wielding man with no head. There was a tense pause in which Snape's eyes bugged out of his head. The silence was broken.

"Severedhead!" Snape's voice rasped.

"I can't tell the difference! Which one is the real Snape?" Bridgit goggled at the two.

"Crap!" The headless stranger gasped and then bolted.

"So he was the fake all along." Bridgit shook her head, smacking her fist dramatically into the palm of her hand. "I blame the internet."