Chapter Twenty-nine: War Games
Having disembarked from the landboats, Voldemort's army took formation and attempted to storm the castle. Held temporarily at bay by the magical ensnarements, the forces of good had enough time to get their asses out the door. In the lead, a phalanx of dementors glided toward them.
"Dementor squad! Attack!" Trelawney yelled.
Bridgit, Cora, Neville, Grams and the mole army charged toward the dementors as a dull chill began to creep through their bones. Neville collapsed almost immediately, writhing and screaming the names of his grandparents in terror. Bridgit and Cora slowed a little, but were able to continue. Both were unable to tell if the mole army or Neville's grandmother were being affected at all.
"She's so cool." Cora sighed, watching Grandmother Longbottom slash at any dementors that tried to fly away.
With the mole army rendered useless by the dementors hovering just out of reach, Bridgit and Cora made a snap decision.
"Okay, Bridgit! It's time to use our super special awesome new spell!" Cora shouted, beginning formation.
"You mean the one we started inventing after the craft scissors spell?" Bridgit asked, also entering formation.
"You know it! Ichi!" Cora and Bridgit stamped their right foot.
"Ni!" They stamped their left foot.
"San!" They crossed their arms over their chests, hands in fists.
"Shinigamiiiiiii!" They shouted as one, extending their arms above their heads.
Gigantic, ghostly limbs projected from Bridgit and Cora's real hands. They clenched into gargantuan fists of crushing, and thus the two began to remotely pummel the grounded dementors to death.
"Hooray-oh…ohhhhh." The mole people's rejoice was cut short.
Being slaughtered on the ground, the dementors took flight, hovering just out of reach of the giant hands, and continued onward towards the rest of the forces of good.
"Crap! We can't screw up our job!" Bridgit roared.
"We'll have to finish them the old fashioned way!" Cora agreed, swiftly changing tactics.
"Expecto patronus!" Bridgit unleashed her shiny, silver butterfly patronus.
"Expecto patronus!" Cora totally copied her and unleashed a silver bat.
The silver ghosts began herding the dementors back towards the ground, although not very neatly. The ground forces, consisting of Neville's grandmother and the mole army picked off whatever dementor they could reach.
"Ugh…there's too many of them." Bridgit growled.
"Our spell is only keeping them in one area, but that's all. Most of them aren't getting killed." Cora complained.
"Well, what now?"
Elsewhere at the Battle of Howarts, zombies were lurching forward slowly, forming the next advancing rank. Most of the zombies didn't appear to have been dead for very long and suspicious tattoos seemed to confirm everyone's suspicions that Voldemort had capriciously decided to murder half of his army in order to death-proof them. Truly his logical reasoning was terrifying.
"Ew! Zombie patrol! Go get rid of them!" Trelawney wrinkled her nose in disgust.
"That's the three of us. Yourself included." McGonagall scathingly informed their crappy general.
"Oh bugger." Trelawney sighed.
"Well, ladies. Let's not chat all day!" Professor Summersong ran past them, whipping out her wand.
Professor Summersong began unleashing a rain of fire upon all of the zombies she could reach. Unlike the living, burning zombies did not smell vaguely of hotdogs.
Professor McGonagall, deciding to go with her strong point, began to transfigure the zombies into an easier target. Inexplicably, they were all becoming Ron.
"AVADA KADAVRAAAAI!" She screeched, spittle and hatred flying from her face.
Professor Summersong, understandably, took pause from her own grisly endeavors to view the pile of Rons, gazing up at the sky with empty eyes and mouths slightly agape.
"…M-Minnerva?" She cautiously attempted to broach the subject.
"WHAT?" She whirled around, a barely-contained manic look in her eyes.
"Is it really necessary to-"
"YES! You can't kill zombies, thus you have to transfigure them into something that is easily dispatched. It's very difficult work." Her pupils were barely pinpricks in the midst of her crazed eyes.
"W-wouldn't it just be easier…and less of an unspeakable spectacle… to transfigure them into…rocks or…or wood or something like that?" Professor Summersong hesitantly ventured.
"I DON'T TELL YOU HOW TO DO YOUR JOB!" Professor Summersong screamed and suddenly killed a Ron who had snuck up behind the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.
"Okay then." Professor Summersong offered faintly, secretly pleased that she hadn't soiled herself. "I'll just continue, then."
"Who is she to criticize me? It's not like transfiguration's very useful in battle! That wench…she best watch herself. Besides, I'm doing more to help than drunky over there." Professor McGonagall muttered angrily to herself as she killed more Rons, casting a hostile gaze toward Trelawney.
"Magic mirror in my hand, please tell me what I should do." Professor Trelawney spoke to a hand mirror in her mistiest voice.
"You are a hard-worker and are respected by those around you." The mirror answered.
"Yes, I know that, I'm truly awesome. I was however, asking for some practical advice."
"May bees make no honey." The mirror answered wisely.
"I see!" She smiled, then began hitting the nearest zombies with her mirror.
Professor Summersong's fire spells were relatively effective, as many zombies were apparently extremely flammable. They ran about, spreading the fire and even burned several Rons to death. This greatly enraged McGonagall.
"KEEP YOUR FIRE AWAY FROM MY RONS!" She yelled.
"I'll do my best." Professor Summersong considered hiding.
McGonagall, no longer having the presence of mind to cast the killing curse in her rage, stabbed the nearest Ron in the forehead with her wand. He collapsed in a twitching heap, foaming at the mouth.
The real Ron, watching from a safe distance, felt rather faint.
"Blimey." He whispered as he watched himself being murdered again and again. "I wonder what I did to her."
Harry and Hermione put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder and tried to shield him from her view.
"This is for dotting the i's in your essays to close so they look like l's and are hard to read!" McGonagal screamed, stabbing another Ron with her wand. "And this is for handing in your papers at the last possible moment!" She killed another Ron. "This is for always leaving eraser shavings on your desk. We use Quills, it's CLEARLY ON PURPOSE!" Abandoning her wand, she used her bare hands to snap his neck.
Taking a moment to survey both McGonagal's murder fantasy spree and Trlawney's ineffectiveness, Professor Summersong let out a haunted sigh. "This is pointless! We need a strategy to clear these out of the way for the others."
"What we need are stronger fire spells." Professor McGonagall shouted back. "Bitch." She added under her breath. "I'm a little occupied at the moment."
"That you are…Wait, that's it!" Professor Summersong's eyes widened as an idea entered her brain.
Abandoning her offensive, she ran up to Professor Trelawney and grabbed her shirt collar. Taking hold with both hands, she flung open Trelawney's robes.
"Tigerlily!" She shrieked. "I know I'm irresistible, but this is hardly the time."
"Oh, shut up you old bint." Professor Summersong said crossly, removing all of the bottles of vodka sewn into Trelawney's robes.
"I'm only thirty four and a half!" She shrieked, not even sure that that was her real age.
Next, Professor Summersong stepped on the hem of McGonagall's robes and ripped off half the skirt.
"What the hell?" McGonagall demanded, twitching her bloody wand that she had retrieved from the face of one of the dead Rons.
"No time for pleasantries, ladies." Professor Summersong gave a fierce smile and grew a pair. "Keep the zombies off me and I promise we'll have this problem solved soon enough."
Dumbledore, Sammy and Reaganle were crouching behind a hedge in order to conceal themselves from the encroaching army.
"Well, looks like their plan went to hell. Quick, while the zombies are distracted trying to kill those three, we can break through their ranks and make it to the Deatheaters!" Dumbledore shouted, taking off at a dead run and making a mental note to force McGonagall to have another psychological evaluation.
"Right!" Sammy and Reagan followed, trying to ignore the Ron carnage as they raced past the zombie battlefield.
"For the stude~nts!" Dumbledore screamed his battle cry, spittle flying in all directions as his wildly roving eyes burned an angry red.
"The crap-?" Sammy began.
It was then that everyone learned why Voldemort pissed his pants at the mere mention of Dumbledore. Being the closest, Sammy and Reagan could see the most. What they could make out through a solid red mist were limbs flying everywhere and the horrible screams of the damned. Reagan and Sammy soon realized what their part of the mission was as a few lucky Deatheaters managed to stagger into view. Looking dazed and utterly shell-shocked, they didn't even flinch as Sammy killed them.
"Sammy!" Reagan scolded her. "You killed them?"
"No, Reagan. They were already dead."
"Wow. I sure am good at protecting myself." Harry mused, trying to distract Ron.
Righto." Ron smiled happily. It worked like a charm.
"C'mon guys! If we're going to do our part, we have to go hide somewhere." Hermione snapped.
"No." Harry said suddenly. "No hiding for Mr. Potter."
"I don't know…it kind of sounds like a good idea." Ron admitted, still shaking from witnessing the murders.
"Well, all I know is that Voldemort is after me, he killed my parents and he's really evil. You two can stay here, but I have to divert his attention and hopefully lead him away from the castle to buy the evacuation and the battle efforts more time."
"Okay. Have fun, mate." Ron offered his farewell.
"Oh, Harry! That was wonderful. You do understand. We'll go with you." Hermione pulled Ron along after her.
"Whyyyyy?" Ron wailed, trailing behind.
Ive got to find Voldemort! I've got to find Voldemort! Harry mentally repeated his mantra as he ran past various fighting segments.
"Well, found me you have, Mr. Potter." Voldemort suddenly loomed before the young teenage hero, where Harry could have sworn before there was absolutely nothing.
"Voldemort!" Harry revealed his shock and rage, pulling out his wand.
Smiling coolly and sporting a samurai-esque helmet, mounted upon which was what appeared to be the stuffed corpse of Nagini, Voldemort seemed the every essence of ease.
"Oh, no no no. That won't do at all. You see, I'm not the one you're going to fight right now. Now is the time for you to meet the newest member of my family: Number ONE! Go, Harrmione!" Voldemort boomed.
Hermione and Ron, stupefied by the sight of Voldemort froze in their tracks. Harry gripped his wand tightly, ready for whatever the hell a Harrmione was.
"BLAAAAAAAAAAAAA a male platypus has a poisonous spur on its hind legs that can poison a full grown dog!" An androgenous being stepped in front of Voldemort.
Harry gasped and Hermione and Ron looked like they might faint. Before them was a horrible crime against nature that should never have been.
The person stood five foot seven and possessed an unruly black afro, horrendous teeth that jutted out in all directions, thick-rimmed glasses and delicate feelings. Turning slightly to the side, they could also see a snake tail protruding from a hole in the being's pants. Voldemort noticed their stares.
"I see you noticed the modification I made on Dumbledore's crazy plan #3957. It's like I always say: you can never have enough snakes." He beamed.
"What…what have you done?" Harry asked in utter befuddlement.
"What Dumbledore never had the balls to do! I have created the ultimate student by combining your DNA with that of Miss Grainger's. You see before you the result: Harrmione. I suppose in a sick kind of way, it's like your horrid love child." Voldemort laughed. "Only it has been trained to kill you."
"BLAAAAAAAAAAA Although bats are more difficult to sheer than sheep because it is hard keeping a hold of them, their wool, when knitted into a wig, is a cure for baldness." Harrmione blatantly plagiarized the Wizardology book.
Lightning bolts sprang from its fingers and it was all Harry, Hermione and Ron could do to keep from getting hit.
"This is impossible! It has my abilities with magic and Hermione's knowledge of everything." Harry narrowed his eyes.
"And it has a lightening-shaped birthmark on its ass!" Voldemort crowed. "Feel like begging for mercy?"
"We'll figure this out!" Hermione said resolutely.
"Quickly, Hermione! If we work together – with magic – we can overpower it!" Harry shouted.
In a two-pronged attack, Harry and Hermione charged at Harrmione and cast two spells.
"Expelliarimus!" Hermione shouted at the same time as Harry.
Harrmione simply jumped backwards and Harry and Hermione ultimately disarmed each other.
"Damn it!" Harry pounded his fist into the ground and reached for his wand.
"Hey, wait a minute! How come my DNA wasn't included in this monstrosity? Uhh…sir… I'm part of the team too!" Ron demanded to know the answer for his exclusion.
"Dumbledore's notes clearly stated that you contribute nothing to the team and the only time you do, it's because Harry or Hermione consciously holds back so you can feel good about yourself." Voldemort laughed. "Such big dreams for a little Weaseley."
"That's not true, Ron!" Hermione shouted, retrieving her wand.
"Yeah, buddy. If you weren't there to cheer us on, there's no telling what might have happened." Harry agreed.
"BLAAAAAAA." Harrmione agreed. "A turtle is capable of breathing through its anus."
Harry and Hermione were thrown back by an invisible shock wave, slamming painfully into trees. Harrmione's incessant knowledge was certainly an irritating way to cast spells.
"I'll save you!" Ron shouted. "Expelliarimus!" He cast the spell, holding his wand backwards, into himself.
He fell over, his wand flying from his hand.
"Alright, Harrmione! If you're really part me, you'll spiral into a terrible depression if you can't answer a question!" Hermione stood, hands on her hips.
"Blaaa." Harrmione looked warily at her.
"If a tree falls in a forest and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound?" Hermione called out her question.
Harrmione didn't even hesitate.
"The Adobe sound system allows crystal-clear surround sound in movie theatres across the nation to enhance the audience's viewing pleasure."
A sonnicboom flew at Harry and Hermione, knocking them off their feet again and causing their ears to ring.
"This is no good!" Harry yelled over the noise only he could hear. "It has both of our strengths, but none of our weaknesses!"
"What shall we do?" Hermione wondered aloud.
"I wouldn't say that it has no weaknesses, and I shall expose them!" Ron boldly stood before Harrmione.
"No, Ron, don't do it!" Harry yelled.
"Voldemort wasn't lying. You really are useless in battle. Don't die, I still love you!" Hermione reached out for him.
"His weakness is the same one that was your undoing last time, You-Know-Who." Ron announced.
"Ho? And what would that be, weasel-boy?" Voldemort raised a bump of muscle that would be a normal person's eyebrow.
"LOVE!" Ron spread his arms open. "Harrmione – by the mere fact that you are a combination of Harry and Hermione, my charms should be irresistible to you, as a friend and/or love interest."
"Blaaa." Harrmione said softly.
"That's right." Ron held his arms open. "Come to me."
"This is asenine!" Voldemort howled. "My Harrmione doesn't need love, which is why I never provided any."
"That's not true! Everyone needs love, even Hagrid!" Hermione shouted defiantly.
"BLAAAAAAAA!" Harrmione wept, throwing itself into Ron's arms.
"There, there. Everything's going to be okay…after the stabbing." Ron patted the being and then stabbed it in the back with a knife.
"AGHHHHHH!" Harrmione screamed.
"Don't worry. It'll only hurt a little while longer." Ron continued stabbing it until it died.
"Tch! Love. It always comes back to bite me in the ass." Voldemort growled. "You may have killed what I will call my third-greatest creation, but now my wrath is upon you, Weasel-child! Avada Kadavraaaaa!"
A green jet of light rippled through the air, heading straight for Ron. It looked like the foreshadowing of the earlier Ron massacre was about to come to fruition. Ron's eyes went wide as the light hit him in the chest. However, instead of passing through him, the light bounced off of some unseen barrier and reflected straight into Hermione, who was running toward him with her hand outstretched in loving concern. Striking her in the face, the killing curse passed straight through and her bright, intelligent eyes suddenly went glassy and blank. Her legs buckled, and she toppled forward, suddenly lacking the daily grace she had always shown. Coming to a stop on the ground, she didn't move.
"Hermione?" Ron looked in confusion at her still form and unseeing eyes.
"HERMIONE!" Harry screamed.
"Hermione." Ron collapsed next to her, supporting her head and holding her hand in shock. "I don't understand. Harry, what happened?"
"She's dead." Harry moaned, feeling sick.
"But…I thought children were protected by angels." Ron looked down into the face of his fallen love.
"But Ron," Harry turned to his best friend, giving him a sympathetic and pained look, "Hermione didn't believe in angels." He finished, his voice barely above a whisper.
"NOOOOOOOOOO! Hermione, why?" Ron yelled, tears streaming down his face.
Hermione, usually the first one with an answer to any question, gave no reply.
Hermione Lucidity Diligence Grainger was dead.
Flitwick, Hooch, Sprout, Binns and Flansberg sat atop the castle battlements watching the goings on from a pair of binoculars. So far the defensive line hadn't been needed, but it looked like it was only a matter of time before the zombies would get through. Dumbledore was making an impressive dent in the Deatheaters, but had now been encircled by a small group while the rest advanced.
"My, that Summersong certainly is a great little tart." Binns noticed her move against Trelawney. "That's right, ya saucey mare." He said oh so quietly.
"Holy crap! Did Dumbledore just rip that guy's head off?" Mr. Flansberg stared in disbelief through the left over magic binoculars. "I gotta see that again!" He rewound.
"Just a little closer, Mr. Wand. Then we can kill at will once again." Flitwick softly spoke to his magical device, longing for his serial killing days of yore. "Then their stirrups will be mine!" He screamed.
Everyone looked at him in alarm.
"Uhhh…you know. Those damn battle horses. Hehehehe?" He laughed nervously. You're all next!
"Oh. Where's Hagrid?" Hooch suddenly noticed his absence.
"I dunno. He was here a moment ago." Sprout looked around in confusion.
"It doesn't seem like him to leave just to wander off at a crucial moment like this." Mr. Flansberg muttered.
"Maybe he had to go to the lou. You living seem to do that an awful lot…not that I watch." Professor Binns suggested.
"Oh, that seems quite reasonable." Sprout nodded.
"A little too reasonable." Mr. Flansberg looked through his magic binoculars again, scanning the field for Hagrid. "There he is! Wait. What the hell does he think he's doing?"
"Let me see!" Flitwick shoved him out of the way and stole his maginoculars. "He's right! It looks like Hagrid is opening the front doors."
"Why would he do that?" Madame Hooch squinted at the brown dot she assumed was Hagrid.
"Maybe he's going to help in the fight." Binns suggested.
"Oh, okay. That makes sense." Everyone was relieved.
"No, that doesn't make any sense at all!" Everyone but Mr. Flansberg. "There's got to be something wrong. I mean, he does everything Dumbledore tells him to like some giant, semi-human dog. Something must be wrong, otherwise he'd never abandon his post. We've got to stop him!"
"Okay!" Everyone instantly agreed.
"I can see why you're the supporting characters." Mr. Flansberg sighed in irritation.
They ran from the roof and down the many stairs, hoping to catch Hagrid in time.
"Are you sure about this? Not that we question your wisdom…just your concern for the lives of others." The nervous mole soldier sweated profusely.
"Do not be weak! It is an honor to be launched into the air to gloriously cut down our enemies while they remain complacent in their cowardice!" Neville's grandmother roared, being held, like several others, in the giant phantom limbs of Bridgit and Cora.
"Yeah, quit your whining!" Cora snapped, tossing him at the nearest dementor.
"I regret nothiiiiing!" The mole soldier cried as he hurtled through the air.
He smashed into a dementor and both plummeted to the ground. Then the stabbing began.
Neville's grandmother made no sound as she was launched through the air. She managed to cut down three dementors before landing heavily on the ground.
"SCY-therrrrr!" She howled.
"This was the best idea ever!" Cora laughed. "We have WAY more mole people than they have dementors. Even if we miss a couple of times and kill some of ours, we're guaranteed to win if they take down at least one apiece."
"Ummm, they can still hear you." Bridgit whispered to her friend.
"Not for long!" Cora chucked the next one. "At this rate, the dementors will be dead in no time!"
"Way to be useless, Tigerlily!" McGonagall was backing nervously away from hungry zombies and angry Rons. In the end, there had been too many Rons for her to slaughter at will and her fantasy had become a dark phantasm. She blamed it all on Summersong.
"I'm almost done! Just keep them off me a bit longer. Here, you can use Trelawney. I don't need her anymore." Professor Summersong shoved Trelawney away.
"Braiiiins." The zombies moaned, lurching forwards on stiff, undead legs.
Great…what use is Trelawney? Wait…maybe if I sacrifice her to them, they'll be distracted long enough that Tigerlily can finish whatever it is she's scheming, behind me where I cannot see her.But then the horrible truth dawned on her.
They were after brains. Trelawney was useless as a distraction. She paused for a moment.
"So, I hear our headmaster's got one in the oven." Trelawney began, doing violent pelvic thrusts. "I always knew you'd make a good father."
"Oh, that is it, you Welsh cow!" McGonagall narrowed her eyes.
Zombies be damned!
She shoved Trelawney, who stumbled into the nearest zombie. He groaned and looked dully into her eyes.
"No, I'm sorry, I can't. I'm not able to marry, for I'm no longer pure." Trelawney swooned in his manly and slimy arms.
The zombie dropped her and continued shuffling forwards. Suddenly, a flaming bottle was thrown into the midst of them all. It was hit with a jet of fire and it suddenly enveloped all of the nearest zombies in a sizeable explosion. Many zombies were charred to the point of immobility. The rest picked themselves up and continued forwards.
"Here, Minnerva!" Professor Summersong called. "Behind this barricade! There's more of those special cocktails where that came from!"
"Right!" McGonagall leapt behind the barricade.
"What about Sybill? Where'd she go?" Professor Summersong looked around the field.
"She fell in battle." Professor McGonagall said between clenched teeth, lighting another cocktail and throwing it to where she had last seen Trelawney.
Fearing for her life as well, Professor Summersong said nothing and, out of her level of respect for Trelawney, didn't even offer a silent prayer. Except of thanks.
Sammy, Reagan and Dumbledore stood back to back to back, surrounded by Deatheaters.
"This is not looking good." Sammy muttered.
"We're alright so long as I can keep deflecting most of the spells." Reagan grunted, straining to keep his allies safe.
"You'll never take me alive! This one's for the children!" Dumbledore roared, blowing up more of them.
"Take it easy. Remember: you're fighting for two now." Sammy cautioned him.
"Shut your hole!" Dumbledore roared.
"Yes sir." Sammy whimpered.
And she resumed blocking spells with Reagan.
"I sure hope someone finishes their job soon and comes to help us." Reagan complained quietly.
"Hagrid? What's wrong?" Flitwick trotted up to the groundskeeper who was in the midst of raising the castle gates, much like a small, yappy dog.
Hagrid turned around quite abruptly and stepped on Professor Flitwick. Dazed, the professor lay on the ground staring up at the sky.
"Hagrid! You accidentally stepped on Flitwick again. Appologize!" Professor Sprout scolded him.
Hagrid raised his foot again, aiming for Sprout.
"I don't think it was an accident!" Mr. Flansberg yelled as he pulled Professor Sprout out of harm's way.
Hagrid's foot stomped to the ground and he regained his balance, glaring at them like an angry rhinoceros.
"What are you doing? It's us! Your friends." Professor Binns opened his arms in a peaceful gesture.
Hagrid, still glaring in a way unusual to him, took a swing at the ghostly educator. Only his feelings were harmed.
"Okay, so maybe we did ignore you up until two years ago, but c'mon! You were the groundskeeper. You can't expect us to hang out with you. That would be like…hanging out with Filch! God rest his soul." Professor Binns bowed his head.
Hagrid seemed like he wasn't able to comprehend what anyone had said to him. As though consumed by some unknown hatred of everything, he continued trying to pummel them with his big, beefy, dinner plate-sized hands.
"Soon yours shall fall to the Dark Lord." Hagrid's beard bounced up and down as speech exited the mouth area.
"Why Hagrid? Why have you turned against us?" Madame Hooch asked, tears in her eyes.
"Wait a moment." Mr. Flansberg narrowed his eyes. "Did anyone else notice that, while his beard is moving, his lips aren't?"
"This is hardly the time to bring up a sensitive issue like Hagrid's freakish speech impediment." Professor Sprout gave him a dirty look.
"Twigethula, it's not a speech impediment. He's Scottish." Binns gave her an exasperated look.
"Now you shall die!"
Everyone saw it this time.
"Why, I do believe you're right, Paul." Professor Flitwick commented before being stepped on again.
"Well, let's give this a try!" Professor Sprout reached into her robes and pulled out a small phial of magical insect repellant made by Snape. "Be gone, foul beard worm!"
She splashed the contents of the potion onto Hagrid's face and the giant erupted into screams as hissing and steam issued from his facial hair. As he writhed about in agony, the beard on his face, along with his hair, sprang up into the air and floated delicately as a bald Hagrid collapsed to the ground.
"Good riddance." Binns said, as he believed Hagrid had died. "No doubt the dearly departed Snape would be pleased he had something to do with Hagrid's death."
"Neither of those people are dead." Mr. Flansberg pointed out.
"Damn! I've been gunning for potions master since I died." Binns clenched his fist in a boring way.
"Die, beard maggot!" Madame Hooch screamed, beating the floating hair with her broom.
She felt outraged by the attitude of the professors toward those without PHDs. She would show them all by killing this thing.
The beard squealed in pain like a dinosaur, and then wrapped itself around the broom. It proceeded to the throw the broom, with Madame Hooch attached, over the battlements.
"Hagrid, you bastaaaaard!" She screamed as she vanished over the wall.
"Ugh. Women. Great at dancing naked, but as soon as it comes to killing they're no use at all." Binns commented dryly.
"I've noticed, professor, that you've become a lot less pleasant as of late." Professor Sprout observed aloud.
"I miss Peeves." Binns hung his ghostly head. "He made me tolerable by comparison."
"Magic has its place, but I think it would be better to take care of this now." Mr. Flansberg muttered, taking out a lighter and lighting the beard on fire.
The beard caught on fire instantly, the flame fueled by Sprout's insect poison. In a mere matter of seconds, the seven pounds of hair burned to oblivion, leaving nary a trace of its ever having been.
"Are you alright, Martin?" Professor Sprout helped the little guy to his feet.
"I've been better. How about Hagrid?"
"I feel nekked." Hagrid moaned, killing a nearby squirrel and putting it on his head.
"I thought you liked animals."
"Screw the animals! I'm bald!" Hagrid started weeping.
"What the hell was that thing?" Mr. Flansberg muttered.
"A beard worm." Professor Sprout beamed. "It implants itself into the host's head posing as a beard, but takes over the host's motor functions. In essence, the spy at Hogwarts was Hagrid all along."
"Well, that was disappointing and anti-climactic." Mr. Flansberg shook his head.
"That explains why Mr. Hagrid was constantly rifling through Dumbledore's garbage and sending mysterious letters in 'Top Secret' envelopes. I just assumed it was a product of Mr. Hagrid's freakish adoration for Albus." Professor Binns mused.
"Shall we join the battle?" Flitwick took out his wand, clearly intending his question to be an invitation.
"What? No! We were told to wait here and hold down the fort." Mr. Flansberg objected.
"Ripping!" Professor Flitwick ran off.
"Wait!" Mr. Flansberg felt a cold chill in his gut.
"C'mon Paul! Now th' real fun begins." Hagrid recovered, scooping up Mr. Flansberg and running with thunderous steps to the battlefield.
"I don't think I'd do very well. I can't do magic." Mr. Flansberg protested.
"Nonsense! You defeated that evil parasite demon that was controlling my mind and body." Hagrid smiled winningly.
"But that was hair!"
His protests fell on deaf ears as he and the remaining professors went to battle.