Chapter Seventeen: Ahhhh! Run Away!

Everyone sat in their Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom chatting anxiously. Professor Summersong, not present in the room, was uncharacteristically late.

"I wonder what's keeping her?" Cora sighed impatiently.

"Didn't you hear?" Hermione forced herself between several students.

"No Hermione, do tell us." Bridgit sighed in defeat.

"She's being investigated by the Ministry of Magic! After receiving the official report about the Yule Ball incident, suspicion was diverted to Professor Summersong." She explained.

"But why?"

"Well, they felt she knew "a little too much"." Hermione rolled her eyes. "Apparently knowing how to save everyone makes you guilty. In case you hadn't noticed, our governmental institution isn't the brightest thing in a fancy building."

"I feel homesick." Bridgit was reminded of their own government.

"Hey, how about your government officials and our government officials get together and play hopscotch in a minefield?" Cora suggested with a dark smile.

"I'll see what I can do." Hermione matched Cora's smile.

"Wow. We're really rubbing off on you." Bridgit giggled.

"So do you know exactly how she's being investigated?" Cora asked.

"Well, I saw her being followed by a ministry employee so she is under 24 hour surveillance-style investigation. From this I deduced that for a period of one month she will be followed around the clock by a ministry employee, with every move she makes falling under intense scrutiny and everything she says being recorded. I learned about this from reading all of the Ministry training manuals that I could tape together from the paper trash bins outside of the Ministry of Magic. Due to the stringent nature of her surveillance, I imagine that for the time being she will be super conservative and careful about what she says and does." Hermione rattled off with machine-like efficiency.

"Gosh, Hermione, who needs Mr. Spock when we have you?" Bridgit asked in bewilderment.

"I will assimilate all knowledge!" Hermione smiled in a most unnerving way.

"Didn't you watch 'Kingdom of the Crystal Skull'? Your head will explode! No human can possibly contain so much knowledge!" Cora shook Hermione's shoulders, imploring her not to be so foolhardy.

"In the event that my head explodes, you can totally have my stuff." Hermione offered, rolling her eyes.

"Can I have that in writing?" Cora pushed a piece of parchment towards Hermione.

"…No…" Hermione's spider sense was tingling.

"Umm…yes…of course." Cora said awkwardly. "It was a joke. Ha ha. It was amusing…"

"But I wanted Hermione's moral righteousness and S.P.E.W. badges." Bridgit was sad.

"Get your own, bitch! That's my I.P.!" Hermione started to reach for her stabbing knife.

Suddenly, all the torchlight was snuffed out by a cold draft that whistled through the room. Before anyone's eyes could adjust to the dark, the heavy doors were flung open, crashing noisily against the wall. A dark figure strode into the room surrounded by the dim light of a single candle. Bridgit and Cora, unsure of the situation, jumped in front of Harry to shield him from potential danger. As the torches sputtered to life, Professor Summersong's unnaturally pale face swam into view. Her usual lavender dress was replaced by black flowing robes and her eyes were red with dark circles underneath them. Her hair was black and stringy, hanging loosely past her shoulders. She smiled wickedly, revealing pointed eyeteeth. Raising her arms in a threatening manner, she cried,

"Bleh! Bleeeh! I vant to suck your blood!" in a trembling voice.

The hair on everyone's necks rose as they gaped at her in silent embarrassment.

"Tee hee!" she giggled. "Okay class, what am I?" She asked while returning the torches to a cheery blaze.

"A vampire!" Hermione cried.

"Correction, a badly hyperbolized rendition of a vampire." She smiled brightly, removing her false teeth.

Now that the light in the room had returned to normal, the class could see not only that Professor Summersong's makeup job was bad, but that she had been followed into the room by a wormy looking man. The ministry guy shuffled to a chair at the back of the room and nervously surveyed Summersong as though he thought she was crazy. He scribbled down some notes and took out a pair of opera glasses to continue surveying her with.

"You can sit down now girls." Professor Summersong added to Bridgit and Cora, who left a befuddled Harry to go find their seats.

"What were you two doing? Protecting your boyfriend?" Malfoy sneered at them.

"No! We were protecting the acid monster." Cora explained quickly, pointing at the tank.

"We love him!" Bridgit cheered.

"Gak gak gak gaaaaaak!" The acid monster surfaced and laughed from its tank that had been relocated to behind Harry's desk.

"I think he's creepy." Harry looked at it nervously.

"It's cute! Like an onion!" Cora smiled.

"He's our little Onion Cop!" Tigirs named him.

Everyone gawked at them for a moment.

"You two aren't allowed to name things anymore." Professor Summersong admonished them. "Hagrid and I have discussed it and we feel that it is cruel and, as professors, we are morally obliged to intervene on behalf of those who can't speak for themselves."

"B-but, he likes it!" Cora protested.

Onion Cop looked sad at the prospect of his new name.

"That's the rule. Now for class! Can anyone guess what today's lecture is about?" Professor Summersong tried to be funny.

"Fire." Replacement Crabbe blurted out before anyone could stop him.

"No. You're close. Try again." She prompted him while pointing suggestively at the false vampire teeth.

"Uhhhhghhh…Fir-"

"-That's right! Vampires!" She cut him off before he could finish.

Replacement Crabbe looked proud of himself

"Good job buddy!" Replacement Goyle made to give him a high five. Replacement Crabbe missed and punched Replacement Goyle in the face, knocking him from his chair.

"Yes vampires." Professor Summersong sighed. "Let's all turn to page 365 as we start the vampire unit. You can read it later for homework. Anyway, who can tell me some- yes Miss Firecatcher?"

"Where did you get those robes?" Bridgit interrupted with her irrelevant question.

"What? Can't I own anything black, flowing and mysterious?" she defended herself.

"But you always wear bright colours." Bridgit pressed.

"Oh fine. I borrowed them from Professor Snape." She admitted.

"Ummm…since when would he lend you anything?"

"Fine! I stole them from his closet. Happy now?" She snapped.

The ministry wiener gasped and continued to scribble crap down.

"What? I washed them." She added at her student's horrified looks.

Elsewhere in the school, Snape was rifling through his closet.

"Let's see…" he muttered to himself, "shall I wear black robe #7 or black robe #32." He paused a moment, a frown on his face.

"Where is black robe #32?" He removed the empty hanger to look for a clue.

A small piece of paper fluttered to the ground. It read:

Dear Severus,

I took your robe

The bottom was signed with a picture of a flower. He clenched the note in his fist, face contorting with rage.

"TIGERLILYYY!" He roared.

"Back to vampires. Miss Grainger, since you undoubtedly know the answer, please tell me the physical characteristics of a vampire." Professor Summersong continued despite her spider sense tingling.

"Well they're usually pale and have unusually long eye teeth. They don't have reflections-" Hermoine was cut short by Violet.

"And they're really charismatic!" Lavender and Parvati giggled at her comment.

"And they're chiseled like marble statues, have faster-than-life reflexes, teeth that can cut through concrete and they sparkle like diamonds in the sunshine!" Violet continued. "See? This is a picture of one. He's my boyfriend. He looks very pretty. He has the soul of an anguished angel and the angst makes him even more delicious."

"That's just a picture of you, Violet." Parvati looked a little concerned.

"No, they just can't be photographed." Violet defended herself.

"But it says in the textbook-" Lavender began.

"HE'S MY BOYFRIEND AND I'M IN COLLEGE!" Violet screamed like a crazy person and panted heavily.

"I'm actually glad that you brought that up, if I may interject Miss Tweeny." Professor Summersong cut in.

Violet looked sad but nodded.

"That is one of the more common misconceptions about vampires. If you would be so kind as to turn to page 385 in your text book, you will meet our case study, Race Valentinez." They all flipped their books open. "As you can see, he was not blessed with good looks or charisma and was photographed successfully."

This understatement caused a shudder to run through the class and Violet, who had hidden under her desk.

The delusional vampire seemed to think he was rather good looking, as his picture did muscle poses and winked with his good eye. Obviously in denial about his male pattern balding, his hair was slicked back into a short, greasy ponytail. His angular face, broken by a butt chin, sported a unibrow, a giant mole and stray hairs accentuated by a large and disturbing eye counterpart to a somewhat normal one. He wore no shirt, bearing his bony chest to the world with its one small patch of chest hair, his pride and joy. He waved bony arms, which looked like they would snap, at all who beheld him.

"Kill it!" Parvati shrieked, hurling her book across the room.

"As you can see, just like with regular people, some vampires are hideous. That they are devilishly handsome and excessively sexual is a myth. This came from the fact that no one wants to read a book about ugly vampires." Harry shuddered, briefly reminded of Lockhart. "Now, how do you suppose one kills a vampire?" Summersong moved along with the lesson.

"Sunlight!" Someone yelled.

"Holy water and crosses!"

"Garlic!"

"Fire!" (guess who)

Professor Summersong sighed.

"No Terrance, fire is not-Oh my God!" Her eyes widened.

Replacement Crabbe, real name Terrance (not that he could remember), was on fire. Grabbing a bucket of holy water that she had intended to use as a prop, she doused the flames.

"Are you alright, Terrance?" she asked breathlessly.

"Heh… Terrance." Someone snickered as though Replacement Crabbe was a better name.

"Duhhh…" Replacement Crabbe tried to poke a torch.

"No, dear, that's hot." She ushered him away. "Rex," she turned to Replacement Goyle, "Please escort Terrance to the infirmary."

"You've returned my name to me! Now I no longer have to serve the evil one!" Replacement Goyle prepared to cry for joy.

"Cram it, Replacement Goyle, and do as you're told!" Malfoy barked.

"Oh." Replacement Goyle hung his head and continued to do as he was told.

"Well, you passed that test." The wormy Ministry operative muttered.

"What do you mean by that?" Professor Summersong was instantly suspicious.

"Oh. I set him on fire." He explained.

"WHAT?" She was livid. "GET OUT!"

"But you see-"

She picked him up by his hair and dragged him to the door. Then, she literally kicked him out of the room. There was much rejoice.

"Yayyy!" Everyone cheered.

"And sadly enough, this isn't the worst class we've had all year." She sighed.

"Yay! We love your class!" Everyone cheered. Yes. Even Malfoy. After all, one of his minions had almost died. He didn't get that kind of entertainment from other classes.

"So continuing, nothing any of you mentioned will actually kill a vampire. They are just painful irritants, like low-grade acid. Miss Firecatcher, how do you kill a vampire?"

"There's only one sure fire way and it's not for the faint of heart. First, you stab them through the heart with a wooden stake. Then, you cut their head off. Next, burn their body and spread their ashes at a crossroad and bury their head stuffed with garlic and nail a silver cross to the lid of their coffin and seal it with holy oil." Bridgit went through the lengthy procedure.

"That's very complex." Lavender scratched her head.

"Well, if you just want to distract them long enough to get away, then, throw some seeds on the ground. They're so anal compulsive, they'll have to pick up, count and sort everyone. By size, of course." Cora offered. "Luckily, vampires can't do mental long division. Math is for the living.

"Because of the effort that goes into killing them, we tend to prefer to rehabilitate evil vampires. Next class after the break we will have an interview with a vampire. His name is Jove Banon and he is a reformed vampire having not killed anyone for 23 years. Now, we will briefly touch on the Philippeno cousin of the vampire. You see-"

"But we don't care about anything outside of Britain. If it isn't a stinking colony, then it's too savage to learn about." Ron raised his hand and spoke without waiting for acknowledgment.

"Mr. Weasely!" Professor Summersong was affronted.

"Actually…" Hermione continued, "I agree. It won't be on any of our standardized tests – tests standardized by the British Ministry of Magic – so I don't really see the point."

Professor Summersong looked pensive for a moment.

"I suppose it's just as well, since I didn't know anything about that anyway. I think everyone needs the last few minutes of class off, including myself." She sat down heavily. "Thank God it's Christmas break."

Bridgit and Cora sighed, meandering aimlessly down the hallway. Being dismissed from class wasn't as pristine as it sounded. Now they had nothing to do. Reagan and Sammy were in class, so there was no one to bug. Snape was teaching class, so there was no one to guard. Harry was annoying, so there was someone to avoid. All in all, it wasn't shaping up to be a bucket of laughs.

"I'm bored!" Bridgit whined.

"So what? Deal with it!" Cora retorted.

"Yeah, yeah. Well, what do you want to do, anyway?" Bridgit looked around at the gray, stone walls.

"We should probably figure out what to get Sammy and Reagan for Christmas." Cora mused, remembering the joyful holiday that was coming up. And how she was expected to give gifts in order to get some herself.

"Well, I suppose it's too early to give them engagement rings." Bridgit laughed.

"Reagan would like anything we give him, so let's make something so we don't have to spend money." Cora laid down the battle plan.

"And Sammy doesn't like anything we give her, so let's make her something as well." Bridgit added.

"Perfect! What should we make?" Cora asked.

"Knitting is a bad idea because Reagan can do that. Let's make some kind of pottery thing." She had a sudden epiphany. "I found some dirt the other day and if we add water and some magic, it will become clay!"

"I guess so. Not like we have anything better to do…" Cora sighed.

"It's decided then! I have the dirt in my pockets!" Bridgit pulled out several heaping handfuls of dirt.

"Dare I ask why it's in your pants?" Cora raised an eyebrow.

"Because if I didn't keep it with me, then house elves would have cleaned it up."

"Ah. Quite. To the dorms!" The two galloped off to their dormitories.

Upon arrival, they set to work making the dirt into clay. That was easy. What was difficult was fending off the house elves.

"No! The filth! Let me just clean it a little!" One reached its tiny, tiny arm out to rid the school of the offending matter.

"Back! Back I say!" Cora kicked the small being in the face.

"GAHH!" Blood poured onto the floor and the remaining elves set to work cleaning it up.

With them distracted, the two returned to the task at hand. Then it was done. Hooray. However, transferring their creative energies into something that was good and constructive was quite difficult.

"I'll make the one for Sammy, you make the one for Reagan." Bridgit muttered, smushing her clay into bits.

"Right. I'll make mine into a cup that can hold water. Reagan seems to like drinking water." Cora decided.

"Or alcohol!" Bridgit interjected.

They both laughed.

"I'm going to make mine into a vase. If Sammy has more pretty things, maybe she'll be nicer." She mused.

Deciding not to destroy her friend's logic, Cora bit her tongue and began molding a cup. Bridgit hummed to herself and started delicately fashioning various pieces of clay and molding them into perfection. Cora, looking at Bridgit's exquisitely shaped parts to her vase masterpiece, looked at her own saggy cup in dismay. Enraged at her seeming lack of talent, she started throwing her cup against the ground and stomping on it.

"Damn you! Work!" She yelled, pounding her fist into the clay.

By some miracle stroke of luck, the clay responded to her divine will. Parting in half, it formed itself through her merciless blows into a creature of such magnificence that it could only be called 'pretty good'.

"Hey! That's not bad!" Bridgit eyed her friend's creation.

"It's a wave cup!" Cora held it aloft. "See how if folds in on itself to make a wave shape? That was totally by design! Intelligent design no less."

"Mine's a turkey vase!" Bridgit brought her finished creation into the light. "I used some of the blood for colour. I don't like to waste."

Cora stifled a gag. It was not very pretty, being that it looked like a turkey with blood on it. It looked more like a PETA protest piece than anything else.

"I don't quite know how to tell you this…" she began, "but…it's more to Reagan's taste." She put it nicely. ~Because only he could love something so frightening…~

"Oh…you're right. Now what'll we do?"

"Help me." The elf moaned from the floor as the other elves carried him towards a chute that lead to an incinerator.

"I dunno. That was our only clay." Cora began pondering.

"Please, for the love of God."

"Oh please, opportunity, knock at our door!" Bridgit pleaded aloud.

Just then, the portrait hole swung open. Enter Fred and George.

"Wow. Opportunity responds to my will." Bridgit marveled at herself.

"Well…clay responds to my beatings." Cora huffily shot back.

"What the hell is going on?" George asked, horrified.

"They're going to kill him!" Fred shouted.

"Out pottery isn't that bad! Reagan may be sad, but it won't kill him." Bridgit frowned.

"Give me him, you lot!" Fred grabbed the wounded house elf from the rest.

"You should get him to the infirmary." George said breathlessly.

"Righto!" Fred dashed from the common room and down the hallway, heroically saving the house elf's life.

"So why aren't you two in class?" Bridgit asked him.

"We decided to liberate ourselves from Professor Binns' class in the interests of good times. So what exactly happened here?" He looked concerned.

"He got in the way." Cora said darkly.

"They do that, don't they?" George sighed. "Just don't tell Hermione what you did. She thinks it's bad enough when you don't hit them. Damn hippies."

"On that previous topic, I want to have good times!" Bridgit said excitedly.

"But we still have to get a present for Sammy." Cora chided her.

At that moment, the portrait hole swung noisily open as Fudgey stormed through. Cape swirling behind him, the three watched in surprise as he sauntered up to his room.

"Fred, or George or whoever you are, I'm taking a nap to prepare for my trip home over the holidays. Wake me when it is meal time." He arrogantly informed them of what they were to do.

"Grrrr…damn that Fudgey." George muttered.

"Well, goodnight." Fudgey went into his room. By now, everyone knew that he didn't listen.

"Heh! You sound like Sammy!" Bridgit mused.

"Speaking of Sammy…" Fred had emerged from the portrait hole as well with blood on his hands and a sudden idear. "Does she like capes?"

"She does when they're Fudgey's!" Cora caught on instantly.

"Because when Fudgey suffers, Sammy is happy." Bridgit slowly put two and two together.

"Right! It's decided then, and the timing couldn't be better. McMuffin only takes his cape off when he's sleeping, so it'll be locked in his safe deposit box."

"However," Fred cautioned them, "His safe deposit box is guarded by a most fearsome beast named Cordon Bleu."

"Sounds like a sauce…is there such a thing as alive sauce?" Bridgit asked nervously, remembering her lunchtime meal.

"No. It's the name of his pet duck." George dispelled her worries.

"You sure know a lot about Fudgey." Cora mentioned.

"Well, he is on the quidditch team with us. Oh. And the only person he ever talks about is himself." Fred shook his head in annoyance.

"And we share a room." George made a face

"So what's our plan of attack?" Cora started trying to see how the caper could work.

"Well, we'll stand watch at the door while you two face the danger." George offered.

"Gee, thanks." Cora muttered darkly.

"It was our idea. Your turn to do the work." Fred smiled easily.

"Don't worry," George added at their looks of terror, "we've disabled the pervert cannon. Now you can complete your objective and we can have after hour sex with our girlfriends."

"But how do you silence a duck?" Bridgit wondered aloud.

"With a sledgehammer." George offered a suggestion.

"No, too loud." Fred whacked him. "And too messy."

"How big is the duck, anyway?" Bridgit asked. "Is it like a Canadian goose? 'Cuz those are huge and frightening. They hissed at me when I tried to feed them bread. Ungrateful little creatures of God."

"We've never seen it, but we hear it because it's too fat to get down the stairs." George muttered.

"Well, isn't that just typical; the fat guy has a fat pet. Way to be creative, creator." Cora scorned whatever force it was that had spawned them all.

"I fed Auntie May's duck a peanut butter sandwich once. Poor little bugger had its mouth stuck shut for a year." George remembered fondly. "Well…it died after a few days, though."

"What kind of peanut butter did you use?" Cora demanded.

"Err…peanut butter flavored crazy glue." George laughed sheepishly.

"What? Why would someone make flavored crazy glue? That's like asking for children and animals to eat it!" Bridgit was appalled.

"Well, it is created by Satanco." Fred offered his meager explanation.

"Okay…well, peanut butter is sticky, and so is this kid's gum." Cora shoved a nearby kid and stole the gum he was chewing right out of his mouth.

"Why is it always me?" Consonants cried, running up to his room in dismay.

"There! Now I'll put it in this jar of peanut butter Bridgit keeps in her pockets!" Cora retrieved it.

"What else do you keep in there?" Fred asked in amazement.

"A lady never tells." She winked.

"It's best not to ask." Cora cautioned them.

She dropped the chewing gum into the jar of peanut butter. The jar began to hiss and smoke violently in a chemical reaction. Remember, don't try to mix peanut butter and gum at home; it's dangerous. As soon as it cooled, the next annoying question was posed.

"How do we get it to the duck? As soon as we get in, it'll know we shouldn't be there and alert Fudgey." Bridgit scratched her head.

"House elves." Cora answered without missing a beat.

"Right! Fudgey lets the elves feed it." George remembered.

"Great! I'll do it!" Bridgit flounced over to a table and lifted a silver bell. With a ting-a-ling-a-ling, it rang to summon a house elf. Instants later, Frumpy appeared wearing her Hogwarts ™ doily.

"Wghaht carn eee dou fer eee?" Frumpy gurgled in a barely intelligible query.

"Ummm…can you feed this to the duck?" Bridgit asked, hoping she understood the elf properly.

"Hchokee. Eee wall dou eet." The house elf grabbed the peanut butter and hopped up the stairs.

Frumpy was no longer afraid of the duck. The house elves had fattened it up so that it could no longer antagonize them. After all, it could barely move. The bulgy duck monstrosity was barely contained by a cage of chicken wire. It breathed heavily, rasping every now and again under its own body weight. Frumpy approached the duck, who snapped its maw greedily at the prospect of food. With a cheerful and garbled hello, Frumpy began shoveling the peanut butter and gum into the duck's mouth. The duck ate without question until it could eat no more due to a stuck beak. Assuming that it was full, Frumpy then disappeared to the kitchen.

Hearing the crack of a disapparation, Bridgit and Cora stole up the stairs into the boy's dorm.

"Wait! You aren't supposed to be in the boy's dorm!" Some random twerp noted.

"Well…I am a boy." Cora offered lamely.

"I knew it!" The boy exclaimed in euphoria.

He was then shoved out a window.

"Hey…I think you just killed someone." Bridgit dully noted.

"Don't worry. He landed in a dumpster, he's fine." Cora pressed onwards.

Bridgit looked down at the corpse receptacle that was labeled "sleepy time bin".

Following a line of gold spray paint drawn along the wall, they finally reached a doorway that had "Fudgey is da King" written in identical paint. With a nod, the two quietly entered. They were pleasantly surprised to find that the duck was in a coma or some other death-like state. Now they could steal in peace.

Suddenly, a great rumbling of thunder snapped them out of their sadistic reverie. Oh…wait…it was Fudgey snoring.

"KNSNCHRRRRRRLLLLLL!" Snored Fudgey.

"Well, he seems to be fairly out of it. Let's go raid his safety deposit box!" Cora cackled quietly.

"Alohamora!" Bridgit aimed a spell at the box.

"Get bent!" The box replied.

"It must be protected against spells." Cora whispered, wary of Fudgey, who groaned and turned over in his sleep.

"Look!" Bridgit pointed at Fudgey.

Around his neck, Fudgey wore the key to the safe deposit box (it had a sign on it).

"Tch! Let's just pick the lock." Cora shook her head, not wanting to engage in any more shenanigans.

"Righto!" Bridgit retrieved a bobby pin from her hair and picked away at the lock.

The lock was apparently alive and soon blood was dripping from the keyhole as it made choking noises. Finally, they were rewarded with a soft click as the lock fell to the ground with a splat and the lid popped open.

"Excellent." Cora pushed her friend aside and retrieved Merlin's graphitized cape.

"Let's get out of here!" Bridgit was not enjoying Fudgey's unique odour.

"Before we do…" Cora bent over his ear, "Fudgey, when you wake up, you will challenge Sammy to a duel!" Cora figured a legitimate chance to beat up Fudgey in public would be the best Christmas present ever.

"And put your duck on a diet." Bridgit added as they ran away.

Unbeknownst to them, Fudgey muttered a few moments later,

"Yes. I will duel and add the duck to my diet."