Chapter Twenty-seven: The "I told you so" Chapter
As it gradually peeled, the surface tension was vanquished and the skin fell to the ground with a loud squelch.
Voldemort jerked awake, wrenching Nagaini's corpse from around his neck.
"Agh! Sunshine!" He screamed, waving his decrepit arms around.
Becoming a bit more lucid, he took in his surroundings.
"Oh, Nagini. I just had the most wonderful snake dream." He hissed, with a smile on his face.
Nagini hung limply from his shoulder and said nothing in reply.
"Ah, poor lass. Still tuckered out from eating those baby harp seals. You just rest." He wrapped her corpse around his head and regained his feet, heading for his innermost sanctum.
"SIR!" Two deatheaters breathlessly staggered into the room.
"What?" He whirled around, glaring at his interrupting minions.
"Intruders, sir! They freed sixty-six percent of the research muggles." They snapped sharply to attention, clearly having received their sources from FOX News.
"Damn tree huggers." Voldemort snarled. "Have they been captured yet?"
"Not yet, sir, but we're still in pursuit."
"Not good enough! Avada kadavra!" Voldemort killed him, leaving the other minion quaking in fear. "I have something to attend to within my personal chambers and then you shall inform me of the situation. Then we shall catch those traitors and destroy them." He shuffled towards his room.
"Ah, had another snake dream sir?" The man gave a nervous smile.
"Yes. This one was a keeper."
He shuffled into his room as his minion waited politely outside. He was stunned to see his shed skin laying on the ground.
"Gross. Now it's dirty." Voldemort muttered. He looked sneakily in all directions and then turned back to the skin. "Five second rule!" He cried, and devoured it.
"Awesome." He sighed, licking his fingers. "Now to write about my snake dream in my dear diary."
He retrieved the book and frowned at its weight. Then he opened it.
"RGHWHAT? IMPOSSIBLE!" He roared, finding some of the pages missing.
Storming from the room, he killed his remaining minion in a fit of bad temper. Two other minions, who had recently appeared, didn't even flinch as he approached them.
"Tonight we shall drain the blood of the interlopers and feed it to Nagini." Voldemort snarled.
The two stared at the obviously dead snake, noting the dart protruding from its neck.
"Uhh…My Lord? Are you sure Nagini is…well?" The braver asked.
"She looks a little…"
"SHE'S JUST SLEEPING! Now get out of my sight and ready the landboats!" He roared.
"My Lord, wouldn't you like just a nosh of your awesome potion?" One asked, noticing the stealthy advent of senility.
"Just a sip, but then I'll make them pay!" Vodemort snatched the potion from his minion's outstretched hand and chugged the whole thing.
Then he stood straight up, suddenly, and had a look of euphoria across his face.
"No. I know who did this." He grinned.
"Do you still want us to hunt the interlopers down in the landboats?" The meeker minion asked.
"No. No need. I know where they are going. Ready the landboats and assemble my army. Tonight we ride for Hogwarts!" He then swirled off, dark cloak trailing behind him."
"He's so awesome." His minion whispered in awe.
"Do you think he'll ever realize she's dead?"
"Hopefully not while we're around…"
An anguished scream echoed down the hallway.
"Crap! Quick!"
They ran to a supply closet and pushed an unconscious Peter out. Surely here they would be safe.
Bridgit and Cora landed on something soft and squishy. As their eyes adjusted to the gloom, they could make out hundreds of small bodies surrounding them.
"Bridgit…I think we have company." Cora whispered.
"I don't think it's the kind that eats your cookies, though." Bridgit whimpered.
"We have cookies, if it be your wish." A fat-sounding voice cheerfully informed them.
"Who are you?" Cora squinted into the darkness.
"I forgot that you baldies need the light. Here!"
A lantern lit up and Bridgit and Cora stared in horror at the two-foot tall, hairy little mole people standing around them.
"Oh my God." Bridgit breathed.
Cora's eyes lit up.
"I TOLD you they were real! But would you listen? NO!"
"Oh yeah? Well I said your stupid 'free the people' plan would ruin our mission, and you didn't listen either!" Bridgit shot back.
"It turned out okay." Cora shrugged.
"I see you have many questions." The little leader guy ignored them. "But you must be tired and hungry. Come, join us for a large luncheon." All of the mole people started toddling down the dark tunnel.
"Wait! We need to get back to Hogwarts!" Bridgit called after them.
"Good! Our tunnel goes there. You can eat along the way."
"I'm so confused." Bridgit cried.
"Just go with the flow." Cora smiled, following the creepy mole things.
"We have a fast train here. It will return you to the above ground Hogwart's in two hours." The mole man continued, bragging about their lightning train system.
"Sweet!" Cora laughed.
"Why are you helping us?" Bridgit looked at him suspiciously.
"You saved all of our lives!" The elder moleman wailed.
"How? We lived in Canada and you live in England. When did we have time to save your lives?"
"I told you the displacer beasts were terrorizing the mole people! Now they're just paying us back." Cora explained.
"That doesn't make any sense! These mole people are British!" Bridgit was getting irritated.
"You have saved our species, and thus our lives." The elder continued. "The females of moletopia live over the ocean in Canada. Britain is becoming uninhabitable. There are few forests left and the humans always dig and put in pipes and cables. There are less and less places to hide, so we sent our molewives and molechildren to make a new city in the secluded mountain ranges of Canada. However, the safety we had thought we were sending them to was threatened by those displacer beasts you kindly disposed of for us. Now our families can live and we can journey to Canada to be reunited. We owe you a great many thanks."
"You're welcome!" Cora beamed.
"Edler! Elder!" A small moleman jogged down an incline.
"What is it, Wesley?"
"The eastern sentry reports that the Dark Lord has mobilized his landboats towards Hogwarts with his entire army!"
"Wow…that was fast." The mole elder was surprised. "You baldies must have greatly angered him. For this, you have our admiration."
"Crap! He's heading towards Hogwarts! We need to get there first to warn them." Bridgit started running.
"No need to run. Our trains will easily win. We will even send you some of our warriors to help…but only the strong, brave ones without families."
Half of the mole population bowed to Bridgit and Cora.
"Our worthless bachelor lives are yours to make use of." They chorused.
"Wow…mole culture's kinda harsh on singles." Bridgit whistled.
"Lucky for us! All right, men! All aboard the Victorious Ass-Kicking Express!" Cora yelled, rounding a corner and catching sight of a magnificent subterranean train.
"For Snagthor! Honorable Politician of Debatable Zoning Laws!" The molemen gave their wussy battle cry.
Greatly confused, but along for the ride, Bridgit boarded the train behind them. And, with impressive G-force, the super-fast lightening train sped off into the darkness.
"Well, aren't you glad to be patched up so quickly? Good thing friends are always around when you need them." Harry made a snide comment at Ron and Hermione, who were now recovered.
The three sat in the virtually empty Gryffindor common room.
"Yes, yes, Harry. You're awesome. What would we do without you, besides have some fun?" Hermione muttered.
"This close." Ron cried quietly to himself.
"Now we can all get back to the way things used to be! You know… the three of us wandering around haphazardly dealing with monsters and stumbling upon the answers to mysteries." Harry laughed.
"Oh, that reminds me! I solved one of the mysteries last week, but I've been too busy to remember to gloat about it." Hermione snapped her fingers.
"That's the spirit! Gloat away, best-friend-Hermione!" Harry cheered.
"Yes. I've finally discovered the secret, sordid past of our new Defense-Against-the-Dark-Arts teacher."
"Really?"
"Oh, Ron. You were there, remember? When I happened to hack into the Dumbledore's Secrets mainframe?" Hermione prompted him.
"Well, what is it?" Harry asked impatiently.
"Oh yeah, that was good! Best secret ever." Ron giggled.
"Tell MEEEE!" Harry whined.
"All in good time. We need to find a teacher to tell this to!" Hermione leapt to her feet. "I'm sure they're obviously unaware of Dumbledore's overly-optemistic good nature in hiring her and don't know the true nature of the evil she has steeped us in, like a tea of malicious intent." Hermione narrowed her eyes, her beautifully-pruned eyebrows gracefully arching over her lashes.
They ran for a good five minutes and burst into Professor McGonagall's office.
"Professor McGonagall! I contain a secret that could destroy us all!" Hermione bellowed.
"Hmm?" She looked up from her Motherly Weekly magazine and her magical knitting clattered to the floor.
"Professor McGonagall! Professor Summersong is-"
"Not now, Miss Grainger. I'm afraid I am entirely too busy to listen to your mammoth secret." She attempted to place a mobile into a fair-sized aquarium. I'll show Madame Pomfrey…I'll be the best sea horse mom ever!
"But-"
"Scoot!" She swept them away with a broom. "You too, Mr. Weasely!" She rapped him smartly on the bottom with her broom.
Ron squeaked with fright, dropped the cheese that he had been scarfing down back onto her desk and ran out the door.
"Stupid children. I hate them all."
The mobile snapped, crushed in her iron grip.
"Well, gang. I guess we have to solve it ourselves, then." Ron pondered aloud.
"For the love of God, please tell me!" Harry put his foot down.
"No time! We have to go confront her now!" Hermione hurried along.
"I hate you." Harry chased after her.
Ron's pants fell down.
"There you are!" Hermione burst into Professor Summersong's office.
"Oh, hello children." She smiled at the three of them.
Ron, not having the time to fix the situation, had lost his pants a few meters before the office.
"I see you've forsaken pants, Mr. Weasely. I applaud your free spirit."
"Don't try and distract us with your clever words!" Hermione narrowed her eyes. "We know what you've been hiding!"
"I don't know what you're talking about." She gave Hermione a level stare.
"Don't play games, Professor. We have all the evidence we need right here!" Harry pointed at Hermione.
"You'll hardly create a scandal by telling everyone of my penchant for an in-between class nosh. It's something all faculty is guilty of, save that stick in the mud, McGonagall."
"What?"
"Oh…that wasn't the secret? Well, then, if you're concerned about Smoky here," she opened her desk drawer to reveal a hellish fire demon, "I obtained him through purely legal means. Besides, you couldn't prove anything in a court of law."
"Enough of this! This isn't about any of the petty indiscretions you're guilty of now! This is about your heinous union with evil!" Hermione shouted.
"What?" Her eyes widened and then she relaxed. "I see."
"It was all in the records, everything. You just needed to know where to look and how to look. If you have the key information, it's quite simple to find, really."
"Bravo, Miss Grainer. But then again, what does this prove? What will you do now? Obviously the Headmaster trusts me, so why should you have anything to say on the matter?"
"Because Snape's evil!" Harry shouted.
"No, Harry, we have to stay focused!" Ron shoved his friend.
"Looking at the statistics, I realized that, since you are the defense against the dark arts teacher, you have an eighty percent chance of being evil. Taking that into account with the fact that I feel in my gut that something about you isn't quite right, I decided to investigate further. That's where I found out who you really are, Mrs. Tigerlily Riddle!"
There was a pregnant pause.
"Wait, what?" Ron gave Hermione a second glance.
"I thought you knew the secret, Ron." Harry shook his head.
"I forgot it. I was just playing along." Ron sobbed.
"Yes, now that I know the truth, I think you are too dangerous to remain here at Hogwarts. When I expose your secret, you shall, at the very least, be dismissed from the faculty." Hermione stood adamantly facing her teacher.
"Well, that could work." Summersong admitted. "But you're forgetting who I am. I am, after all, not an idiot."
With that, she severed a rope with a big knife she kept in a drawer. While the children were distracted by the falling Krayt dragon that had been suspended by the rope, she magically stole their wands. With a resounding crash, the skeleton landed right on top of the three meddling kids, its ribs serving as prison bars.
"Freedom!" Ron longingly wept.
"So now you see that your secret no longer holds the leverage you thought it did. Despite your above-average booksmarts you are still painfully naïve. Did you think I'd just be okay with your plan to expose my secret and surrender to you? What the hell is wrong with you?" She shook her head in disbelief.
"What's wrong with us? You're the one who uses sneaky tactics, like surprise." Harry complained.
"Yes. I'm quite horrible. Now the question the remains: what should I do with you? What should I, the former wife of Lord Voldemort, do with Harry Potter and his little friends?" She grinned deviously at them.
"W-what are going to do to us?" Ron whimpered.
"Now your true colours are showing. Dumbledore won't stand for this; he'll definitely fire you!"
"Dumbledore's busy with his own problems: namely morning sickness. I doubt he'd notice anyway. And even if he did, I could blame your unexplained disappearance on my dear ex-husband. You see, he still owes me spousal alimony. I couldn't think of a better way to collect. So, how shall I get rid of my little problems? Shall I drop you in this tank of acid, dissolving any trace of your physical presence, or shall I finally contribute to Hagrid's pumpkin patch? Would you prefer nothingness, or worms gnawing away at your flesh?"
"Worms! I'll take the worms." Harry piped up.
"No, dude. Take the acid." Ron hissed. "It's quick and painless."
"How is that quick and painless?"
"Both of you, shut up!" Hermione turned on them.
"Well, for such an indecisive bunch, I choose mystery death!" Summersong declared, rooting through a drawer. "Ah, here we are!" She pulled out a handgun.
"What's that?" Ron asked. "Does it bite?"
"Why don't you find out?" She leveled the pistol at him and pulled the trigger.
Harry and Hermione flinched as there was a loud POP! They turned in horror to behold Ron, looking as confused as he had before.
"I don't like this game anymore." Ron whimpered.
"I don't understand. Where's the blood?" Hermione turned him about, looking for exit wounds.
"There's your answer!" Harry pointed at the gun.
Confetti, streamers and a little flag that read 'BANG!' had come out from the muzzle. Summersong stood there, smiling and giggling in amusement.
"Oh ho ho! You should have seen the looks on your faces. 'Oh no! Ron's dead! Wahhh!' Oh, it was priceless!"
"I don't get it." Hermione felt like the walls were closing in.
"Oh, dears. Can't take a joke, can you? Although I suppose it was in poor taste." Her face mellowed. "But seriously, your concerns are unfounded. You see, I was very foolish when I married Tom . I married him out of rebellion against my parents because I was young and stupid, and he had a cool car. As it turned out, he was only after my inheritance and then I began to see who he really was. I managed to escape with my life, but I paid dearly for the mistakes I had made. And then, of course, once I left him he became this creepy snake guy. All my friends were like, 'Ew. What did you see in him?' I tried to explain that he didn't always look like that, but they didn't believe me." She finished with a pensive look on her face.
"Can we really believe in your ignorance?" Hermione felt doubtful.
"Well, if you can't believe in my horrible taste in men, then just look at your own. Seriously. I don't know why we do it to ourselves." Summersong sighed.
"Case in point." Hermione nodded.
"What just happened?" Ron wondered aloud.
"Besides, I've been in a protection program ever since. If you expose my true identity, it will only bring trouble to you since it's illegal to do so. I was actually surprised that, through your research, you hadn't found out that I was part of this program." She mused aloud.
"Well, actually, we just found your picture in a yearbook that said 'Best Couple'." Hermione confessed.
"Ah. I see. Well, then. I guess that's all. See you kids later!" She flounced cheerily from the room.
Several minutes passed.
"How do we get out?' Harry sighed.
"Do you think she'll come back?" Ron asked.
"No, Ron."
"Oh. Bugger."
"Now that Snape's gone, this dungeon is actually rather pleasant." Professor Binns commented airily.
Professors Binns, Flitwick, Hooch and Sprout were casually lounging around the dungeon while Mr. Flansberg tried to get his work done.
"I agree, although it smells vaguely of hotdogs." Hooch fanned herself lightly.
"Let's have a barbecue!" Flitwick squeaked.
"Right! I'll go and get my leftover hotdog loaf from the staff fridge. Then we can conjure a fire and have a mid-afternoon lunch." Madame Hooch bustled from the room to retrieve her low-grade cube of meat by-products.
"I enjoy a barbecue as much as the next guy, but don't you all have like, work, you need to be doing right now?" Mr. Flansberg tried to get rid of his unwanted guests.
"Oh, Paul. You really did miss out by not getting your doctorate in teachology. If you had, you'd know that you don't actually have to do any work." Professor Sprout giggled.
"Even I knew that, and I've been dead for almost a hundred years." Professor Binns droned.
"Right…look, what I'm trying to subtly hint at is that I have this work I need to get done and I'd really appreciate it if you'd all just l-"
"Here it is!" Madame Hooch bounded into the room holding aloft a cube of mystery.
"Dear God, I can't tear my eyes away from it." Mr. Flansberg whispered in horror.
"I have that effect on people." She blushed.
"Righto! You know what would be smashing with that hotdog loaf, Paul?" Twigethula Sprout began.
"Real meat?"
"Frog legs! Why don't you check in the potions cupboard? I'm sure he must have some pickled frog's legs left over from the year." Professor Sprout pointed to the cupboard.
"Sure…why bother resisting." Mr. Flansberg muttered.
He began rooting through the cupboard while the intruders continued chatting gaily.
"Well, my daughter's just sent me an owl telling me that she's eloped with the Prime Minister. I must say that I wish she'd had a traditional ceremony like Consuela and I did. Call me old fashioned, but if it doesn't involve Satan, it isn't a proper marriage." Profressor Flitwick sighed.
"Yes. I can't even remember the last time we had a proper spell-casting session in a coven, naked and dancing under the moon." Hooch looked dreamily off into space.
"I miss those too." Said Professor Binns. "It gave me something to do at night."
"Well, the old ways are being lost to the flashy consumer side of magic." Professor Sprout chimed in. "Kids these days don't appreciate where the magic really comes from because of all the ready-mades out there. Instead of enchanting knitting needles themselves, they go out and buy a pair of magic needles. It's gotten to the point where none of them really know how to do any of the important stuff anymore. Do you really think any of our students except for Hermione would be able to figure out how to get and prepare their lacewings?"
"In my day, we had to make our own wands. Nothing against Ollivander's, but the bond you had with something you made with your bare hands was more spiritual and you appreciated and loved it that much more." Binns remembered the good old days.
"When I was but a child, the only way to get a faster broom was to lose weight, shave off all your hair and fly naked." Madame Hooch announced proudly.
"Those were the best years of woman's quidditch." Binns smiled.
"I must admit that I don't hate this convenient, disposable generation, but it does make me feel concerned for the children. They don't really have anything that they can be that proud of. They've never really experienced that feeling of satisfaction and independence." Professor Sprout murmured.
"Yeah…because they sure don't get it from our classes!" Flitwick cracked open his razor sharp wit.
"Har har har har!" Everyone laughed.
"Hey! This drawer has a false bottom!" Mr. Flasberg pulled it all the way out.
"Oh! Do take a look. We'd all love to have some dirt on that non-murdering Severus." Flitwick smiled with glee.
"Well, here goes." Mr. Flansberg opened the secret compartment and pulled out a dusty old roll of parchment.
"What is it, Paul?" Hooch craned her neck to see.
Mr. Flansberg unrolled it and squinted at the spidery, fading writing.
"As far as I can make out, it says: 'Oh seeker of knowledge, thou hast come to thine own reward! I impart to thee my staff of ultimate wisdom that canst reveal to thee the answer to the question resting within thy heavy heart."
"Wow! That sounds like something exciting and or important that's happening to us! Usually nothing happens to us when we sit around on our asses throughout the school year." Hooch commented.
"Go on Paul!" Professor Flitwick excitedly prompted him to continue.
"Uhh, let's see…But first, thou must take a journey through the catacombs of this castle and thus through thine own soul. First, thou must prove thyself worthy by deciphering my riddle. For, ultimate knowledge and power cannot be given to the stupid and ignorant. Beginning at the great hall, you must-'"
There was a low rumbling and suddenly a loud explosion came from the area of the boiler room.
"Now what could that be? No one's gone in there since old man Filch died." Professor Flitwick wondered aloud.
"Do you think he left a pipe bomb to take us all with him?" Professor Sprout quaked in terror. "Bloody squib."
"I don't think he had the talent to do that." Mr. Flansberg calmed their fears.
The boiler room door burst open and Bridgit and Cora poured like a thick batter into the scene followed by a host of tiny, mole-shaped men in what would surely be the worst tasting pancakes ever.
"Guys! Guys! We've got trouble!" Cora yelled.
"I'll say. You've skipped quite a few of my classes." Mr. Flansberg looked cross.