I own nothing.
The Two Princes of Hogwarts
-Chapter Eleven
"You all look like hell," Neville stated. Harry let out a piteous moan from where he was flopped on the breakfast table. Most of his friends were in a similar state. The only exception was practically vibrating in place with excitement.
"They fought Professor Flitwick!" Arkin announced. "It was amazing! There were fireballs and flashes of light and Hermione summoned a blizzard and Luna tried to sneak attack him under an invisibility cloak and Harry got some kind of spell reflected into him so hard that it shattered his armor and threw him twenty feet into a wall!"
"Flitwick?" Angelina asked blankly. "Why?"
"The Inevitable is outsourcing," Hermione groaned.
"We pissed her off," Ron added, "or someone else did."
"Let's be honest," Neville stated. "You pissed her off." They were silent for a moment.
"Ok. . .fair, but I still feel like someone else gave her a push," Harry countered.
"And Harry threw his sword!" Arkin added excitedly. Harry let out a moan of annoyance.
"Let's not talk about desperate actions in desperate moments," he pleaded.
"What happened?" George asked eagerly.
"Professor Flitwick caught it in midair and threw it back so hard that it dented Harry's helmet and he had to take it off." Harry grumbled in annoyance as the twins broke into laughter. Though their entertainment was ended rather suddenly by a commotion from the professors' table. Harry propped his head up to see Albus raising to his feet.
"Now that most of us have had out fill for the morning," the old man began. "I have a grand announcement for all of you. Professor Umbridge has advanced to an exciting new position as the new Hogwarts High Inquisitor. I hope you will join me in congratulating her." His polite applause was drowned out as the entire hall descended into whispering. He happily continued on for a respectable amount of time, seemingly without noticing that even the other professors hadn't joined him, before his hands dropped. "This has necessitated a new Defense Professors." His words did what his applause couldn't and shushed them all. "I would like to introduce Auror Dawlish. Madame Bones has very graciously offered us his services." Albus squared his shoulders as a man at the table rose awkwardly to his feet. "I would like you to join me in welcoming him to our school." This time that applause almost took off the roof. "Thank you." Albus sat back down.
"Wait, what happens when the Defense professor steps down before trying to kill me?" Harry demanded. "Has that ever happened? Have we ever had a replacement Defense professor?"
"Snape stood in for Remus when he was having. . .trouble," Hermione stated. "He never tried to kill you."
"Yet," Harry shot back. The bushy haired witch let out an annoyed groan.
"It's not going to happen Harry," she snapped. "He's a dick, not evil."
"That has yet to be proven," Harry insisted crossly.
"So, a replacement Defense professor is okay," Ron interrupted.
"This is getting very close to not okay," Neville stated. Harry cast their ward package without a second thought, though Arkin quickly shimmied inside their bubble while all others shimmied out.
"Who the hells even is that?" Hermione asked.
"John Dawlish," Ron stated. "He's got a reputation as a pretty good auror. I have heard that he has a problem with dodging when things go wrong. I'm going to guess he's here because he's on light duty from being hexed."
"What is a High Inquisitor?" That line cut through their frenzied statements and they turned to look at Luna. Then they glanced at Hermione.
"There's no such thing as a High Inquisitor," she stated.
"There is now," Ron pointed out.
"Grand Inquisitors were the leaders of the various Inquisitions," Hermione explained. "They were basically the ones that decided who got tortured."
"Like she decided to torture Harry?" Ron asked. Harry's jaw dropped to argue, but the redhead stabbed a finger at his face without looking at him. "Not the time Harry." Harry pouted, but something began tugging at the corner of his mind.
"Didn't Shack say that Umbridge was in charge of the Minister's personal inquisitional squad?" he asked. Everyone went silent at that.
"Oh," Ron finally grunted. "I do not like where this is going."
(:ii:)
"High Inquisitor?" Amelia demanded. "What the fuck is a High Inquisitor?"
"No idea," Kingsley admitted. "I can't believe I over estimated that maggot's intelligence again. The woman tortured a child and he just decides to give her a new title and leave her where she is? How? How did we fall to the level where this man was elected in the first place?"
"You probably don't want to see his polling numbers for the next election," Amelia grumbled. "People are really scared of all those non-Death Eater dark wizards and witches that have yet to actually do anything. . .or even release a statement about anything. He's also begun prodding the pure-bloods about how "those people" are coming for them."
"Who are "those people"?" Kingsley demanded.
"He hasn't specified, but who are the pure-bloods more scared of than dark wizards?" Amelia prodded. Kingsley's jaw dropped.
"You are not telling me that in the 1990s, the Minister of Magic is talking about muggle-borns threatening the way of life of pure-bloods and the pure-bloods are buying it," he practically ordered. "This is the future. The next century is less than a decade away. The muggle-borns coming for your pure-blood daughters was outdated and offensive twenty years ago."
"Publicly," Amelia admitted. "Privately?"
"What about the half-bloods?" Kingsley demanded.
"Polling even better," Amelia said. "A lot of half-bloods have always been desperate for pure-blood acknowledgement. They want to show that even though they married a muggle or a muggle-born, that they're real wizards and witches."
"I wouldn't worry too much about his polling numbers," Kingsley grumbled darkly.
Amelia needed to say something about that. She knew she needed to say something about that.
She couldn't think of a single thing other than to agree with the man, but that just seemed like a bad idea.
"So," she began peaceably, "has the Minister announced exactly what a "High Inquisitor" does?"
"He has released an entire scroll of educational decrees that he says will fix the problems at Hogwarts," Kingsley stated. "I guess she's going to be enforcing them."
"Problems like him putting an unqualified idiot in a position where she chose to torture a child?" Amelia demanded.
"We're working through the list," Kingsley admitted. "I don't. . .exactly. . .trust legal at the moment, so I'm having some. . .trusted aurors go over it and they're having trouble wrapping their minds around it. It's just too ridiculous."
"Hire Lie and Amos," Amelia ordered.
"The Minister would not look kindly upon that," Kingsley warned. "There are a lot of solicitors on this island we can use that aren't currently going after the Minister." Amelia took a deep breath to calm herself. He was right. This wasn't the time to ally herself with people known to be working against the Minister.
"Are these educational decrees public?" she asked.
"Theoretically," Kingsley replied. "There just doesn't seem to be a system in place for the public to access them and none of the public are asking so far." The man was smiling. Well, smirking.
"You've done something," Amelia accused.
"Sal may have gotten his hands on a list of these decrees," Kingsley admitted. "Good luck finding out how. That man moves in mysterious ways.
"How mysterious?" Amelia demanded.
"If Sal produced a legitimate heir to Merlin, a lot of important people would believe it," Kingsley replied. "No one would question how he did it." Amelia leaned back in her seat. That was at least a small weight off her shoulders. She was almost disgusted with what she was about to say. "I asked Dawlish to keep an eye on your niece."
"Am I that transparent?" Amelia asked.
"No. You're a good aunt," Kingsley said. "I've been working with you long enough that I just assumed." Amelia nodded, choosing to believe the man. "I've also asked Dawlish to keep an eye on the school in general."
"Tell him not to challenge Umbridge unless there is threat to life or limb," Amelia ordered. "Everything else is to be passed onto this office in weekly reports."
"Yes, Madame Bones." Kingsley made a beeline for her fireplace and used the floo to pass on her words. He pulled his head out a moment later. "Dawlish understands." Amelia leaned back in her seat and Kingsley took the seat across from her desk. "A child torturer being left in a school. What the hell is going on? Wasn't there an uproar about that?"
"Somehow, word got out that the child was Potter," Amelia stated. Kingsley went dangerously still.
"That means cutting open his hand is. . .okay?" he ventured.
"It means that a lot of people have been primed to think that he's a trouble maker and that he must have done something to deserve it," Amelia admitted.
"When you say a lot," Kingsley began.
"I wish I could say fifty/fifty, but honestly we're dealing with more than three quarters of the pure-blood families," Amelia said. "About sixty percent of the half-blood families are agreeing. Whether that's what they truly believe or if they're trying to get pure-blood approval is up in the air. Of the few full muggle-born families that have found out, they are uniformly horrified no matter who the child is." Amelia pulled a letter out of her desk. "Here is one from the O'Brian family telling me that I must protect the children, or they will." Amelia turned the paper around for Kingsley to read. "They apparently have a first year Gryffindor." Kingsley froze. "What?"
"The first year hanging out with Potter and his friends." Amelia's hand met her face and she let out a long groan.
"Does that make him more of a target or more protected?" she ventured.
"Yes," Kingsley stated. She sighed.
"Explain the Royal Marine Retired thing with his signature," she demanded. "What's a Royal Marine?"
"Remember how Sal disappeared after he graduated and that muggle-born he threw his whole legacy away for broke up with him?" Kingsley ventured. Amelia nodded. "He joined the Royal Marines and disappeared for a few years. Then he came back and helped set up SPIE." Amelia's forehead collided with her desk. "Whatever a Royal Marine is: Sal went from a cold, calculating king maker to a giddy, cackling hatchet man that was perfectly happy to go after the Death Eaters with their own tactics," he hesitated for a moment, "and sometimes worse."
"What are the odds that Sal knows the father?"
"Not zero," Kingsley stated. "That kid's safety is now our top priority."
"Ours or Potter's?"
"Yes."
"If you don't leave in the next ten seconds, I'm am going to curse you through that door." Kingsley was gone before she had even finished speaking. She sighed and picked up her new copy of the Daily Prophet. She hadn't even glanced at it yet. Her jaw dropped before she could even comprehend what she had read. "Shack!"
"Yes, Madame Bones?" the giant man asked formally, his head poking back into the office.
"Did you know the chief editor of the Daily Prophet is stepping down and apologizing for accidentally putting that letter from the governors on the last page?"
"What." He stared at her blankly. "Who's replacing her?"
"Rita Skeeter," Amelia said blankly. She stared at the man for a long moment. "Is this good or bad?"
"Yes." He was gone before she could threaten him again.
(:ii:)
"Well, this is a good first step," Amos said as he stared down at his copy of the Daily Prophet.
"We're really sure that Hermione can control Skeeter?" Lie asked.
"Considering the way that girl acts, yes. I believe she can absolutely control Skeeter," Amos stated. "I don't know what she has over Skeeter, but it must be bad."
"Didn't Skeeter just vanish for a couple of months after causing some trouble for that girl?" Lie ventured. They both paused for a moment and glanced at each other before silently and mutually deciding to let sleeping dogs lay. Lie sniffled. "This is so much fun."
"I can help that," a new voice stated. Lie let out a shriek and tumbled from his chair.
"Sal," Amos greeted without looking away from his newspaper. He set it down to give the man his full attention. "You have something for us?"
"So, have you heard the news about Hogwarts' new High Inquisitor?" Sal asked as he made his way over to the kettle and set about making himself some tea.
"What the fuck is a High Inquisitor?" Lie demanded as he settled himself back down. "Also, you know I have all kinds of spells up around my office, right?"
"Yeah. You should really get those updated," Sal stated. "Gringotts has s few competent spell slingers on their books. I can recommend one or two."
"Sal is a special case," Amos stated, noting his boss's expression.
"I am, but there are other special people in the world," Sal stated. "Never hurts to be careful."
"Do you still accidentally miscast that anti-apparition hex so that it removes. . .certain fun bits?" Amos ventured.
"I am many things," Sal stated regally. He dropped the act immediately. "One of those things is someone not stupid enough to admit to something like that in front of people like you."
"That's a thing?" Lie asked in a tone that was far too interested.
"Anyway," Amos said loudly before his boss could ask any more interesting questions, "what is a High Inquisitor, what do you have and how can we use it to destroy Fudge?" Sal produced a scroll from somewhere about himself.
"This is a copy of Minister of Magic Fudge's educational decrees," he announced. "Such decrees are to be carried out and enforced by the new High Inquisitor." Amos snatched up the scroll and began reading it.
"Dolores Umbridge is the High Inquisitor. Dolores Umbridge is in charge of punishment. . ."
"Does that mean corporal punishment is back?" Lie interrupted.
"It doesn't not mean that," Amos stated. "Study groups are disbanded?"
"You can't study at a school?" Lie asked in confusion. "Is he losing his mind?"
"The Minister of Magic is the only one who can appoint new Hogwarts professors," Amos continued.
"Not the governors?" Lie pressed.
"Not the governors," Amos agreed.
"Oooh," Lie groaned. "That is a group of movers and shakers that I would not want to anger."
"Corporal punish is reinstated," Amos continued.
"Oh," Sal grunted.
"Oh," Lie agreed. "Wow. Took the ambiguity right out of it there, didn't he? How stupid is he?"
"All communications are subject to scrutiny," Amos added.
"Wait, that sounds a lot like she can go through the post," Sal interrupted.
"Doesn't just sound like it," Lie stated. "Last I checked, that's a felony."
"Last I checked, Fudge had a whole lot of people wrapped around his finger," Amos countered. "He can spin this as protecting the children. Leave it, but I no longer want to contact Harry by post. All business will be in person." Lie nodded and Amos looked back down at the scroll. "Contraband is banned, subject to confiscation."
"Obviously," Sal ventured. "Wait. Do they define contraband?"
"They do not," Amos answered.
"Doesn't that mean that she can take whatever she wants?" Sal demanded.
"Whatever isn't specifically listed as something to bring? Probably~," Lie said, finishing with a singsong tone. "I think we need to spread the idea of receipts around the student body. See how brazen she is when she is asked to sign off on seizure of goods."
"I think I need to start advertising trunks with hidden compartment," Sal added.
"We need to get Skeeter now," Lie ordered.
"Not on all of this," Amos stated, his eyes still scanning the list. "We need to catch them at the right time with the wrong people in order to slam home to the "silent majority" that they are actually affected by this. For now, we go to Skeeter about the return of corporal punishment. Let her do her thing. Let's let a few letters get opened and then we go after that. Maybe was can send a few by certified post with anti-tamper charms. People will be really spooked if she opens letters between a solicitor and their client."
"I do love watching you work," Lie said wistfully. "I hope your lucky, lucky wife appreciates you."
"Oh, she very much does," Amos stated as he continued reading. "Let's get as many copies of this made as possible and we'll brief Skeeter." The man went deathly silent suddenly.
"Amos?"
"Umbridge is in charge of student health care," Amos read.
"What?" Lie demanded.
"Umbridge is in charge of student health care," Amos repeated in disbelief. "I know this is aimed as Harry's tincture, but how did they expect normal people to read this and accept it?"
"Considering how I got it, I kind of feel that normal people weren't supposed to read it," Sal stated. "Anyway, maybe seed a few copies around Hogsmeade?" Amos glanced over at him. "Rumor spreads at the speed of light and often mutates in the most. . .amusing ways. Just let me throw an ad at the bottom about my shop."
"That would bring you into the Minister's line of fire," Amos warned.
"Going against me would be a very foolish move and it might actually scare off some of his supporters," Sal replied. "A lot of people know me. Most of those people fear me. They have long memories for rumored atrocities, even if they were done to keep them safe." He let out a dark chuckle. "The Death Eaters will probably abandon him with startling speed."
"Oh. . .I love it," Lie purred. "Let the Minister get stuck answering questions, fighting misinformation and trying to figure out how big his balls are. We can do all kinds of things while he's distracted."
(:ii:)
"Mister Potter, get in here."
"I will," Harry stated. The bell sounded and he stepped into the room. "Oh dear, I seem to be late." Neville let out an anguished groan and slammed his head into the desk before him. "I should be punished."
"So, you should," John Dawlish stated. "As a new professor, I don't feel qualified, to offer such punishments, especially considering the recent change in rules. Perhaps I should involve a more experienced professor. How about Professor Flitwick?" Harry strode into the room and immediately planted his ass into a chair.
"Mistakes happen," he said quickly.
"Everyone gets one," John agreed.
"Thank you for being so understanding Professor," Harry replied.
"Auror," John corrected. He turned and tapped the blackboard behind him where his name appeared. "My name is Auror John Dawlish. I will be your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for the remainder of the school year. My goal is to make you capable of recognizing and protecting yourself and others from the dark arts. We will use a crawl, walk, run approach in this classroom. You will be expected to keep pace and if you cannot, you will speak to me after class. There, we will do our best to find a path for you to succeed. Do you understand me?" The class murmured in agreement. "Do you understand me?" the man demanded.
"Yes Professor," the class chorused.
"Auror," John corrected.
"Yes Auror," the class replied more forcefully. Their instructor nodded.
"I will treat you with the utmost respect and I expect the same. Now, I will not be here long enough to be subject to end of year reviews," he stated. "Therefore, I care little for your OWLs. I will instead do my best to instruct you on how to survive. Your OWLs will be secondary to that. If you feel that you are falling behind, you will speak to me after class and we will do our best to find a path for you to succeed. Questions so far?"
"Does that mean that we should continue our study group?" Lavender asked. Harry sucked in a breath as he realized that a competent teacher could steal away his only redemption in the Gryffindor, nay, the Hogwarts social group.
"If you are having extra-curricular study groups, I highly encourage that," John stated. "I will sit in on a few of them to make sure that they are going in the right direction. If they are, I will offer any assistance I can." He glanced around the room. "Make no mistake ladies and gentlemen. Your education is secondary to me as far are your survival. Does this make me a poor professor? Yes. Does being a good professor alleviate any guilt I will feel if you are maimed or killed by the dark arts? No." The man turned and tapped the blackboard again. A series of spells began listing themselves. "Now, these are the skills you will need to pass your OWLs. We will spend time going over them and I will do my best to ensure your competence in them. If you feel that you are not competent, speak to me after class. We will do our best to find a path for you to succeed. Do you understand?"
"Yes Auror," the class replied.
"Outstanding," John stated. He glanced around the room. "Mister Potter!"
"Yes?" Harry snapped, caught off guard by the call out.
"I propose a bargain," John announced. "You and your friends go to the back seats. You stay there, I stay here and we both stay away from each other unless necessitated by your academic needs. Is that acceptable?"
"Yes Auror," Harry replied. He glanced at his friends and they both shrugged before standing and moving to the back of the classroom with him.
"Excellent," John stated. "Now, take out your text books and turn to page twelve. Our first lesson will be on recognizing and countering jinxes. Before we begin, who can tell me the difference between a jinx and a curse?" All the hands in the room shot up. "Huh. That is much better than I was expecting."
"We have a study group, Auror," Parvati stated shyly.
"Have I mentioned that that is a good idea?" John asked.
"Yes Auror," the class chorused.
"I see. Then allow me to emphasize: that is a good idea," John stated. "When I emphasize something in this class, it would behoove you to commit that something to memory. Understand?"
"Yes Auror."
(:ii:)
"Is there a pattern to competent defense professors?" Harry wondered as he picked at his dinner.
"One evil bad teacher, one normal bad teacher, then Remus, but Snape was there sometimes, now Umbridge and then Dawlish," Hermione stated, counting them on her fingers as she tried to discern some trend. "Wait. Snape kept going on about werewolves when he was teaching Defense. Was he trying to out Remus?" Harry's face fell.
"Oh, that fucking cunt."
"Language!" Hermione snapped, shooting a look at Arkin and making Harry wince.
"I mean. . ."
"There is nothing else you could mean," Arkin interrupted. "Is being a werewolf bad?"
"Being a werewolf is a controllable condition and too many people look down on the victims suffering from that condition as brainless animals who will attack no matter which form that they are in," Harry said firmly. The Gryffindors around him fell into an awkward silence at that before struggling to get any other conversation going. "We'll introduce you to Remus at some point. He's a good man."
"Who forgot he was a werewolf somehow," Ron grumbled lowly. Harry gasped and shot him a scandalized look. "I'm just saying. That was kind of weird."
"Mistakes are made in high stress situations," Harry snapped.
"They are," Ron agreed quickly. Harry scowled at him for a long moment before turning back to his dinner. "Also, can we stop acting like Lockhart wasn't evil? You do remember the part where he admitted to stealing other people's stories and then erasing their memories for pride and profit, right? He may not be a dark lord, but he was fucking evil."
"Ron!" Hermione snapped.
"That is evil," Arkin gasped in disgust.
"Wait, what?" Lavender demanded. She flinched and glanced back at Neville, but he looked horrified too.
"Did we never mention that?" Harry asked.
"No. No, you did not," Fred stated. "Can you explain that in more detail?"
"Everything in his books happened to someone else," Ron explained. "He would find them before their story became widespread and then he would listen to the whole story. Afterwards he would erase their memories and write it down like it was something he did." The whole table stared at him in shock.
"How did you. . ." Alicia ventured.
"We kind of kidnapped him to go after my sister when she disappeared because we thought he could help and he told us all this before he tried to erase our memories so that he could write about how he had figured the whole Heir of Slytherin thing out and tried to save Ginny, but was too late." The whole table was silent.
"So, which one of you destroyed his memory in revenge?" George asked.
"We didn't do it!" Harry insisted. "It was an accident."
"Sure," Fred replied, clapping them both of the shoulder. "Too bad about that. What an unfortunate thing to have happen to such a deserving man. Feeding him to the basilisk would have been too kind."
"No, really. It was an accident," Ron argued.
"Got any plans for Dawlish yet?" George asked.
"No!" Neville snapped. "Too far."
"Right," George said quickly. "It is the way."
"The way," a unified voice murmured as it swept across the whole Great Hall.
Up at the professor's table John looked around in confusion after even some of the professors around him had joined in on the chant.
"What? The way? Which way?"
"The Longbottom Way," Minerva sighed in aggravation.
"That can't be the Longbottom Way," John argued. "Nothing is on fire. I know two generations of Longbottoms. Everything on fire is their way."
"The Neville Longbottom Way," Minerva explained.
"Oh. Not sure I like that," John murmured. "Actually, I prefer fire. A sneaky Longbottom is something I didn't know could exist and it is now one of my greatest fears."
-End
(:ii:)
Author's drunken rambles. Oh John. You poor fool. Your fear is being distracted by the wrong student. OR IS IT?
Good lord. We are just now starting the second week of the school year. Everything is happening fast. I need to slow down and let things fall into some sort of lull or this whole thing will be over by Halloween. OR DO I?
I guess, just having proactive protagonists and supporting characters along with the blatant wrongness of what happened in this school year is getting shit done. It kind of threw me for a loop when I was rereading the book and everyone was just sort of. . .letting shit happen. No one seemed to object or at least do so out loud.
I hate hypothetical situations, but this is actually something I've done. When I was in the Marines, if somebody was fucking with my guys, I would throw a fit. If that somebody was a higher rank than me, then I would throw a professional fit.
All SNCOs pretend like they'll totally respect a Marine getting between them and a bunch of junior Marines until it actually happens. Then they just get pissed off.
Not going to lie, I hate SNCOs more than officers. SNCOs are supposed to understand because they were junior Marines at one point. The problem is that most of them were fucking blue falcons and that's how they got ahead in life. Their buddy fucking ways continue the more rockers they get.
Gunnys, Master Sergeants and Master Guns are always the exception in my experience. Warrants can go either way at level one, but by two they are beginning to understand their place as the untouchable skaters of the Corps.
God help you if you meet a CWO-5. Pics or it didn't happen. Shit, I wouldn't believe that with pics.
Just a note for the 1% that can understand that gibberish.
Anyway, it's just weird watching the teachers in this book just allow things to happen to the children in their care. Hell, they actively encourage students not to make waves.
Kind of disgusting.
Then again, this is a children's story and adults are always useless in children's stories. If they weren't, the children wouldn't have room to grow. Probably why this story is different since I'm an adult writing adults acting like they give a shit and providing children with what they need to succeed instead of telling them to stay down to get by.
Also, pretty glad the coming-of-age stories from my childhood have gone the way of the dodo.
This horrible tragedy (almost always a death) has fallen upon a child, ending their previous idyllic childhood and now they are an adult. Then the author gets a Newberry Medal.
And no. No, they are not now an adult. They are a traumatized child. God help them in the nineties when counseling was seen as a weird weakness that only weirdos did unlike today where people are quietly judgmental about it.
OMAKE!
Harry stared down at the flask in his hand for a long moment before taking a deep pull on it. He set it down on the table and glanced around the teacher's lounge. "How do you do it?"
"With a little help from my friends," Fillius stated from where he was perched on a chair with a bong longer than he was tall resting on the floor. He took a massive hit and leaned back for a long moment before letting out a massive cloud of smoke. The smoke quickly arranged itself into the form of Cuthbert Binns.
"Holy shit," the spiritual professor wheezed. "What the hell is that?"
"New strain from Pomona," Fillius stated.
"Can I try that?" Harry asked.
"You don't need another vice," Minerva stated firmly as she refilled her glass from a bottle that was probably twice as old as he was.
"But what if I want one?" Harry ventured. They were interrupted as the door burst up and Severus Snape posed in the doorway.
"What is up, you sluts!"
"Have a good weekend off then?" Filius ventured.
"Almost as good as those two Swedish backpackers did," Severus announced. He strode over to a cabinet and pulled out a glass of some viscous purple fluid. He took a long swallow from it and dumped the rest down the front of his trousers. "Oh, that soothes the burn."
"Snape?" Harry ventured in disbelief.
"Oh, hey kid!" Severus strode over to Filius and took the offered bong rip. "Damn. Pomona is going crazy."
"Yup," Filius wheezed. "When are you going to settle down?"
"Oh, you know there was only ever one woman for me," Severus stated as he collapsed into a seat. "She was so funny and so smart and so kind and so unbelievably vicious." He trailed off, staring into space. "And those tits!" His hands traced down through the air and flared out. "And dat ass!"
"Severus," Minerva began in a warning tone.
"No," Albus stated as he puffed on his pipe. "I allow this. It amuses me."
"Dat ass." Severus repeated in a far-off tone. There was a knock and a prefect stuck his head in.
"Professor Snape," the prefect stated, "the Weasley twins has set off a dung bomb in the dungeon again." Before their very eyes; Snape's skin seemed to pale and become sallow even as his eyes sunk in. He let out a long piteous moan as he ran a hand through his hair, leaving his wild locks greasy and clinging to his skull. He rose and sneered at the prefect.
"Lead me you fool!" he snapped. He stormed out.
"Snape?" Harry repeated.
"Honestly Harry, if he was that much of a cunt all the time, someone here would have beaten his ass by now," Minerva stated, "hostile work place and all that. Well, that and he mixes some fine potions."
"You know," Albus began as he continued to puff away, "it's been way too long since we had a potion party. All in favor of next weekend?"
"Aye!" the professor cheered.
"I'll let the Head Boy and Head Girl know," Albus stated. "Cedric has my full faith in keeping the school from burning down for a couple of hours." There was a groan of agreement from all the other professors and they went back to their preferred method of getting by while surrounded by the psychopaths known simply as. . .students.
-End
OMAKE Notes. Send help. I've discovered AI covers and I can't stop. Why is Plankton so good at hard rock and metal?
What is this world? Why have I watched three Latino cartoon girls scream at three Englishmen?
What is this?
Is this the future?
This is not what I was promised.
I'm not angry or disappointed, but I am confused.
Confused and entertained.
Also, hey, last minute addition, literally added in ffn's doc manager. My Dodge Charger's key fob battery in dying. I watched a video on how to replace it. Th damn thing takes the same batteries as the Holosuns riding on two of my firearms. What are the fucking odds?