Chapter Eight
Moments later, the Gryffindor trio were joined by Headmaster Dumbledore, along with Professors Snape and McGonagall. They were unwittingly accompanied by a disillusioned Bart, who exploited the commotion that had erupted after Hermione's spine-chilling scream echoed through the Great Hall by flinging himself under various tables and shadowing the older trio outside. The lad had expected a sight for sick eyes, but even he wasn't sick enough to enjoy the ghastly scene that awaited.
There, before him, lay Argus Filch's remains, including a torso with a dismembered arm, an exposed stomach with scattered intestines, and a missing head. As if that wasn't enough, Mrs. Norris' stiff form hung from the nearby torch bracket, with some words written in crimson blood above her…
ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE. THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS IS OPEN.
It took Bart every ounce of his Occlumency to not vomit on the spot. Troublemaker though he was, brutal sadism had always disgusted him. His headmaster clearly shared similar sentiments, as illustrated by his soft, broken croak.
"It…it seems that Argus suffered a most undignified death, Severus."
Bart's shock turned to disgust as the teacher coldly chimed in.
"Yes, Filch has seemingly departed this mortal coil."
AWW DUUUUUUUUUUHHHHH!
After Professor McGonagall finished comforting the shellshocked Gryffindors, she sighed dismally.
"I-I never cared for Filch's personality, but he didn't deserve this."
Professor Dumbledore wearily nodded before vanishing both Filch's remains and the bloody writing.
"Nobody does, Minerva. Please – take Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger to my office. Severus will have them take the Calming Draught and Forgetfulness Potion."
After she led the trio away, Professor Snape smirked.
"I don't suppose that you'll take Potter off the Gryffindor Quidditch team for not attending the feast, Albus?"
"Severus, this isn't the time or place to be discussing such matters."
The hook-nosed professor scowled.
"Well then, whom do you think was responsible for this atrocity?"
Your long-lost twin.
"Something more vicious than I've seen for a very long time," the headmaster mused in a very grave tone.
"Hmph. How will you inform the students? Lucius will doubtless have your head if you tell them the truth."
The elderly wizard thought for a moment.
"True, but I dislike coverups, Severus. The truth always emerges in these situations, and I don't wish to give Lucius any more encouragement to dismiss me. I will reveal the truth, but also implement lockdowns. Student safety is paramount in this situation."
"What if Lucius dismisses you anyway?"
"Obtaining the necessary signatures will likely take him some time, but should he do so…"
The headmaster locked eyes with his subordinate, who stared back in shock.
"No…no, Albus."
Professor Dumbledore slowly smiled and nodded.
"Yes, Severus. You're an old friend of Lucius, so he should support your appointment."
Bart's jaw almost dropped to the floor, such was his dismay.
No way! Le Condor in charge of the school?! He'll kill every student who's sent to him!
"Who will replace me, though?"
"Horace, naturally."
Professor Snape gritted his teeth, realising that he had no way out.
"Very well, then."
"I'm glad that you agree, Severus", the headmaster mildly responded. "Now, do you have any Mandrake Restorative Draught for poor Mrs. Norris?"
"No. I'll acquire the ingredients from Miss Snyde and the other apothecary owners."
"Please do."
After the potions master skulked away, the headmaster turned and gestured to Bart.
"You can show yourself now, Bart."
Bart looked askance, but nonetheless complied.
"How did – wait, you saw the air move near you, right?"
The headmaster smiled tightly.
"Correct, Bart. Now you had better leave. You don't want Miss Farley to see you here."
Bart quickly fled while the aged mage watched.
Hopefully the students will take these revelations well…
A few days later…
"Things could certainly have gone better than they have, Severus."
The ashen-faced professor slowly nodded and leant over the headmaster's desk.
"Indeed, Albus. It is most unusual that a few words send the student body into hysterics. Also, guess what I discovered?"
The headmaster shrugged, although at this point he was expecting the worst – which was what he got.
"Every apothecary in the country is out of Stewed Mandrakes."
The revelation sucked the air out of the headmaster's lungs.
"Every one?"
"Every – single – one", the professor muttered, his foul mood becoming increasingly apparent with each syllable. "And moreover, I have heard some very interesting rumours. Would you like to know who apparently murdered Filch?"
Judging by Severus' expression, probably Severus himself. "Who?"
"Well, there's the boogeyman, the kwyjibo, Drainy McDrain, and last but certainly not least, myself."
"Who was the culprit?" Somebody whose surname starts with S, perchance?
Professor Snape slammed his hands on the desk angrily.
"We both know whom the culprit was! The last time I saw him, he was scratching himself during my class. So I thanked him with a detention."
"I'm sure he was gratified by that, Severus. Did you discover what a 'kwyjibo' was?"
Professor Snape's lips thinned.
"Another one of his creations, I assume. But parents will be demanding my resignation!"
"Then I will vouch for you like always, Severus."
"You had better, Albus", Professor Snape growled. "But there's more."
Professor Dumbledore's posture stiffened.
"Such as?"
"Lucius told me to inform you that if a student was attacked, he would remove you from the headmaster position."
Just what I needed. For Lucius to follow up on last year's threat, the headmaster wearily thought before massaging his temples, trying not to let the accumulated stress overwhelm him. "Thank you for telling me, Severus. We will brew a Mandrake Restorative Draught when Professor Sprout's Mandrakes are fully grown. It is our only option."
"I agree Albus, but we should not make that known. The attacker will no doubt destroy the Mandrakes if they can. Now, who will replace Filch?"
"Hopefully somebody suitable will respond to my advertisement in the Daily Prophet."
I doubt it, Professor Snape sourly thought. He didn't especially dislike Argus Filch, but there was clearly a reason why Filch had been employed for so long despite being a Squib. It was largely because there were no obvious replacements.
"Hopefully Albus, but you might be waiting a while. Now if you'll excuse me, I have business to attend to", the sallow-skinned sorcerer noted, bidding the headmaster farewell before turning and striding out. After he did, the headmaster leant back thoughtfully, knowing full well why Bart spread those rumours.
Nice try Bart, but you can't stop Severus from becoming the headmaster.
Speaking of Bart, while he reluctantly sat through History of Magic the next day, he thought about his hated head of house.
Hopefully Hooker Boy won't ever sit in the big chair now. He'd probably feed me to the lions or something, he thought, shuddering as he pictured lions tearing him limb from limb on the Quidditch pitch while Draco and Professor Snape drooled above him.
Punctuating the unpleasantness of these thoughts, pain shot up his backside, making him squirm like a worm.
Ugh, who knew that a stinger could hurt after you healed yourself? Gotta give Gemma credit, she really does make punishments suck, Bart thought, cringing as he recalled a disillusioned Gemma plucking him from the crowd, paralysing him, and hurling him into an abandoned classroom before smacking his bottom with a weapons-grade Stinging Jinx.
I still don't know how she can give me the third degree like that. You'd think she'd be too busy studying or something. Ah well, it's not worth thinking about, Bart thought as his memory cycled forward.
As the mage limped on to History of Magic, he was suddenly pulled from the crowd and dragged into yet another classroom by none other than…
Hermione. Ay carumba, what is it with chicks and empty classrooms? an irritated Bart thought before the Gryffindor piped up.
"You know, I just figured out something - ".
"Wow, what a surprise."
Hermione rolled her eyes before getting to the point.
"You blew up the other three common rooms last year, didn't you?"
"What's a common room?"
Hermione's temper yet again broke, her eyes promising murder as she made to slap Bart. But Bart was ready, deftly stepping back and feeling the swish of Hermione's hand brush the space just below his chin.
Feeling naught but schadenfreude, he made to gloat. However, karma wasn't done with him just yet, for another jolt of pain shot through his posterior, locking his left leg right up and sending him tumbling, tumbling, to the floor.
"OWWWW! MY COK-SEEEEEEEEX", he whined as he lamely squirmed on the floor while Hermione burst out laughing.
Heh, she can laugh. Good to know.
"Now, why shouldn't I have you run out of Hogwarts for being such a gigantic prat, Bart?"
"Because – Dumbledore – already – punished – me."
Hermione raised her eyebrows.
"I'll check with him."
"You – do – that."
The Gryffindor girl observed him for a while before shaking her head and smiling.
"Did you need help getting to Madam Pomfrey?"
Bart gritted his teeth angrily.
Screw that!
He whirled around, braving the pain as he loosened his wand holster and applied Episkey. In a trice, his backside felt as cold as ice.
S-s-so c-c-c-cold, he thought before a red-hot sensation followed the freezing cold.
"YAAAAAAAHHH!" he yelled before jumping bolt upright. "MY BUTT IS FLAAMIIIIINNGG!"
Hermione scoffed.
"Oh, it is not."
Bart glared at her before eyeing her hair and smirking.
"Hey Hermione, you been following the American election?"
Hermione gave him a quizzical look.
"Umm, it's tonight, isn't it? Why do you ask?"
"Because I really want George BUSH to win again! God, that BUSH is such a mad dude! When I grow up, I wanna be as cool as George BUSH!"
Hermione narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
"Why do you keep shouting the word 'bush'?"
"Because I really like the word BUSH! And I love George BUSH! God damn, that BUSH is great; I wish everyone was like George BUSH! Plus I have lotsa BUSHES at home! Don't you have a BUSH at home, Hermione?"
Hermione took a deep breath.
"I'm not sure why you're so obsessed with that word Bart, but I'm going to be late for Transfiguration. We'll talk later."
"Yeah, let's", Bart replied, stifling a laugh as she strode out. But then…
"WHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
A short time later, Hermione stopped.
Hey, wait a minute!
Back in the present…
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Professor Binns was pulled from his soporific trance.
"Is something the matter, Mr. Simp?"
"No, I'm done, I'm done WHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Daphne didn't bother kicking him; studious though she was, even she was bored to death by Binns, so she was secretly relieved by Bart's intervention. Nonetheless, she did suddenly have a question for the ghost.
"Umm, Miss Bluegrass?"
Daphne tried not to roll her eyes.
It's Greengrass, you prehistoric dullard. "What is the Chamber of Secrets?"
Professor Binns stared at her before shaking his head.
"It's a legend. That Professor Dumbledore believes in it doesn't make it real."
You don't say? "But legends can be proven, can't they?"
The professor sighed.
"In theory, yes. I believe that this particular legend is utter nonsense, but anyway…the legend originates with the founding of Hogwarts over 1000 years ago by Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff, and finally Salazar Slytherin."
Bart sniggered.
Salad-zar, huh? He obviously liked his greens.
"Anyway, after a few years of harmoniously educating Britain's young wizards, Slytherin soured on admitting Muggleborn students to Hogwarts. Muggles often persecuted wizards during those times, so Slytherin believed that these Muggleborns would eventually turn on their fellow wizards. However, Gryffindor and Slytherin had irreconcilable differences regarding the matter, so Slytherin left.
Anyway, Slytherin then supposedly sealed the hidden chamber that he secretly built, namely the Chamber of Secrets, so that his true heir could eventually use it to purge the unworthy from the school."
Draco and his posse turned and smirked at Bart maliciously, while Daphne, Tracey, Millicent, and even Theo looked uncomfortable.
"You hear that, Simpson? You're next", Draco hissed.
Bart rolled his eyes.
"House unity, Draco. House unity."
Professor Binns nodded.
"Also, 10 points from Slytherin."
As the Hufflepuffs laughed, Millicent turned and gave Bart a brief but sympathetic smile before her hand shot up.
What the hell was that about?
"Yes?"
"Were the students that he found unworthy all Muggleborns, Professor?"
The ghost scrutinised her for a moment.
"Historians disagree on this issue, Miss Busride, but I believe that Slytherin would have deemed anyone who would betray wizards to Muggles as being unworthy. It's just that he believed that Muggleborns were the most likely to."
Bart's hand shot up.
"Yes, Mr. Stimulator?"
"If it's so great, then why did he hide it?"
The professor groaned.
"Firstly, contrary to what you may believe, Slytherin did not like showing off. Secondly, it's hidden because it does not exist."
"But if you could picture it in your head, would it still be hidden?"
"Yes, because the picture in your head would be imaginary!"
"What if it was a chamber pot?"
"Then you would have one more place to relieve yourself, but it is not a chamber pot, because it does not exist."
"What do you mean by 'exist'?"
"By exist, I mean that it can actually be verified historically!"
"What's an 'it'?"
Half an hour later…
"What if Salad-zar was actually a crossdressing Muggleborn CommieNazi?"
Professor Binns looked like he was about to die again.
"I don't know! All these questions! Can't we just cover some actual facts?"
"Doesn't that depend on what you mean by cov – OW!"
The professor sighed in sweet relief while the class burst out laughing.
"Thank you, Miss Greystash. And now…our lesson has ended", he sighed before sailing through the blackboard.
The class cheered and ran out.
That evening, in an abandoned classroom, Bart and Harry discussed the day via parchment.
"So you actually asked Binns whether Slytherin kept his stash in the chamber?"
"Sure, why not? I mean, he was a nutjob who liked green, so he was obviously smoking pot or something. Anyway, do people seriously believe that you're Slytherin's heir?"
"Apparently."
"Pfft, that's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. If you're Slytherin's heir, then I'm the King of Spain."
"Thanks, Bart."
"No problem, dude. Not everyone's got their brain in their butt."
"Yes, well anyway, the spiders are also leaving the castle."
"Sooooo?"
"It's just odd, that's all. Anyway, is the Chamber of Secrets real?"
"Eh, could be. But if it is, I'm so finding it! I mean, you could put drugs, guns, and Playdude mags in there and stuff! Hell, when you're bored, you can just go down and play with your GameStation or something.
Anyway, I bet the old stoner would just love me being in Slytherin, huh?"
"Yeah, loads. So…do you think that Malfoy's the Heir of Slytherin?"
Bart leant back and let rip a massive belly laugh.
"No, the heir would actually have some talent."
"Fair enough. Anyway, Hermione's still mad at you."
"What's new?"
"Not much, I guess. See you later, Bart."
"Yeah, see you whenever, dude."
Meanwhile, many miles away…
"We understand each other, yes?"
A man nodded in the direction of the voice, which was shrouded by darkness.
"Excellent. You may leave."
Not wanting to aggravate his benefactor, the man slipped into the shadows.
On the day before Slytherin's match with Gryffindor, Bart was listening to Jake.
"Today, you will learn about duelling. You see, Professor Flitwick came to me and suggested commencing a Duelling Club, but I reminded him that the younger students know nothing about duelling and so would most likely injure themselves."
The class groaned and muttered.
"However", Jake continued, his lips flicking upwards, "Professor Flitwick and I both need to sharpen our skills against this new threat, so we will both duel in a month or thereabouts."
Groans became cheers.
Jake's gonna show his stuff? Awesome! Bart inwardly effused before Jake continued.
"Now, what do you children know about duelling? Mr. Nott?"
"That you should bow before beginning one?"
"Correct, take 10 points for Slytherin. However, in real life, bowing would get you killed, so I eschew the practice. Mr. Simpson?"
Bart smirked.
"First off, keep your eyes on your opponent. Second, you have to be side-on, so put your lead foot forward. Third, while drawing, pull your arm back so that it brushes your body, put your hips forward, then bend your lead knee and foot. Fourth, put your arm forward as much as you can. I also like grabbing my lead wrist with my other hand."
Jake smiled approvingly.
"Excellent, Mr. Simpson. Take 10 points for Slytherin. I will add two things, however. Firstly, don't extend the foot too far forward; that wastes time. Secondly, only grab your wrist when you have breathing space.
More broadly, everybody should acquire a wand holster. It makes drawing easier and could be the difference between life and death.
Now, line up and face the wall. I will review your duelling techniques."
Immediately afterwards…
"Textbook, Mr. Simpson. However, replicating that pose in real-world conditions is imperative, which is why you must continue practicing. 10 points for Slytherin."
Bart busily congratulated himself while his classmates produced inferior attempts.
"Not bad, Miss Greengrass, but you're leaving too much of your body exposed. Extend your right foot further.
Mr. Malfoy, you've clearly practiced with your father. The wretch. However, your arm movement is too loose and complacent. You cannot assume victory before you've duelled.
Miss Parkinson, you keep propping your wand up, and your arm is too close to your body when you fire, so your spells won't be very accurate. Extend your arm more."
And proceedings continued until finally, it was Crabbe and Goyle's turn. After Jake pointed out the numerous flaws in Crabbe's technique, the witless wizard petulantly threw his wand at the wall. Goyle didn't even bother showcasing his technique, instead charging towards the wall…and knocking himself out.
See, this is why brothers and sisters shouldn't have children together, a facepalming Jake thought while the class roared with laughter.
"That will be all, class. For homework, write a one-page essay with your own thoughts on why proper duelling technique is important. And Mr. Simpson, please stay behind."
Draco threw Bart a murderous glare as the class shuffled out, while Bart just blew him a mocking kiss. He then turned to Jake.
"What's the matter, Jake?"
Jake reached into his draw and placed a bone on the desk, utterly flummoxing Bart.
"Ummm…I'm sure that my dog will appreciate the bone, but did you want to see me for anything else?"
Jake smirked before transfiguring the bone into…
"My broomstick!" Bart exclaimed as he ran up and inspected it.
"Yes, Bart. You'll see that it now has a thinner and narrower head, alongside a shock-absorbing foam stick. There is also a smaller-rear end and a thicker middle so that weight is evenly distributed across the broomstick. My goblin contacts informed me that this improves handling and narrows your turning circle. Additionally, it is now all green."
Bart grinned in genuine gratitude.
"This is a great present, Jake. I really appreciate it."
Jake smiled back.
"Anything for Slytherin, Bart. Now go out there and teach those Gryffindors a lesson."
Bart's grin morphed into something truly twisted.
"I'm way ahead of you…"
That evening…
"Have you have not found any suitable candidates for the job, Albus?"
The headmaster wearily shook his head.
"No, the interviewees were all dreadful. After using some Legilimency, I discovered that one was wanted for his involvement in murdering the McKinnons, another was wanted for war crimes in Croatia, and another wanted to do…unspeakable things to the children here."
Professor Snape shook his head in disgust.
"They sound like model citizens."
"They may have been a model of something, but certainly not citizenry. And I wasn't taking any chances after the debacle with Quirinus. Student safety comes first, especially in these trying times. I should have paid more attention to that last year."
"At any rate, let's hope you find a decent candidate soon. I've been cleaning what I can, but the school's becoming filthy. Someone keeps burning 'EL DRAIN-O' into the walls."
As if to answer the professor's call, a certain individual barged through the door…
"William Widdershins", the headmaster noted with surprise. "Or should I say, Willy. It's been a few years, hasn't it? And you're still wearing Slytherin's colours!"
The lanky, pale-skinned man's brown eyes sparkled mischievously as he ran his fingers through his messy chestnut hair.
"Yeah Albie, haven't seen you since '89 or so, have I?"
"And what a glorious summer it was", Professor Snape muttered.
This got Willy's attention as he turned to his former head of house and extended his hand.
"Snapey, mate! Long time no see, 'ey?"
The professor stared contemptuously at Willy's outstretched hand.
"Not long enough for my liking."
"Severus, Willy is an adult, and you will treat him accordingly", his superior ordered, his tone laced with just enough steel to convey his authority.
"Fine", the professor snarled. "You are here for the caretaker position, Widdershins?"
"Sure am, skip."
"Skip", Professor Snape scoffed. "Albus, do not hire this man. He was, is, and will be an embarrassment to this school!"
"Severus, that is my decision to make, not yours. At any rate, why should I allow those other candidates to press their case but not Willy?"
Realising what the headmaster wanted, Willy straightened out his ragged green robes before eyeballing him.
He has at least a rudimentary knowledge of Occlumency. "Thank you, Willy. But why do you keep baiting Muggles? In this climate, many will assume that you have blood supremacist sympathies."
Willy burst out laughing.
"Nah mate, that's a load of old cobblers. It's just that I keep losing bets, you see, and I've gotta pay 'em off somehow. So I sold Frog Spawn Soap to Muggles because I knew they'd buy it. They don't know no better, you see."
"But Willy", the headmaster sighed, "you're taking advantage of trusting people."
Willy gave him a grim look.
"I'm not proud of it, but mate, I either did that or they broke me legs."
The two professors cringed.
"Azkaban must have seemed like a luxury by comparison."
"I like me freedom, Albie, but I know what you mean. Three square meals a day, and you're not on your feet at ten to two. They even give you the odd fag if you behave yourself."
"And the Dementors didn't affect you?"
"Of course they did; they affect everyone. But you just try not to think about anything; that way, you don't feel nothing. And I wasn't placed too close to 'em, anyway. That's for the most dangerous prisoners…you know, the Sirius Blacks and whatnot."
"Is that how you handled the authorities?"
"Not at first, but their interrogators would always find out what I did. So I stopped looking 'em in the eye, stopped thinking 'bout nothing, and told 'em just enough for 'em to let me go without charging me. Worked a treat."
Willy sat and stared at the headmaster before piping up yet again.
"Albie, I'll tell ya more on one condition."
The headmaster's expression perked up.
"And what would that be, Willy?"
"That I don't get charged for past offences."
The headmaster narrowed his eyes slightly.
"What did you do, Willy?"
Willy's carefree flippancy suddenly vanished.
"I've done some dodgy stuff to stay alive out there, Albie. Using dark magic, mugging people, ripping off Muggles, stealing from crims…but I haven't murdered no one."
"Have you used any Unforgivables?"
Willy quickly shook his head.
"Nah, mate. The coppers notice that sort of thing, and while I am a bit of a sod…"
"The ultimate understatement", Professor Snape muttered.
"…I don't get me jollies from controlling, killing, or torturing people."
"But you still might have killed people, Willy."
Professor Snape's triumphant smirk turned into a snarl as the rogue and the headmaster made eye contact. The headmaster then responded.
"Hmmm…there's no definitive evidence that you have committed murder, Willy. Additionally, the school urgently needs a caretaker, and you are clearly more suitable than the other interviewees. So I have made my decision."
With that, he extended a contract, which Willy quickly perused and signed.
"Welcome back to Hogwarts, William."
"Thanks, mate", Willy cheerfully replied, eagerly shaking the headmaster's hand while the hook-nosed professor threw his hands up in exasperation.
This school is going straight to hell, he thought before angrily storming out.
As it transpired, something else would go straight to hell first. Not that Bart knew that, for he was completely relaxed when he saw Marcus hold up a large diagram of a Quidditch field in the Quidditch Change Rooms. So relaxed in fact, that he smugly appraised his broom.
Now, what should I call this baby? Ah, I know! The Nimbus BS. 'Cos I don't take no B.S. while ridin' it.
Marcus then began, as the lines, arrows and crosses on the diagram wriggled and writhed.
"You're paying attention now, right lads?" Marcus facetiously enquired. "Anyway, the Gryffindors often play like a bunch of psychos 'cos with that bloody Hawkshead thing, their Chasers can go 3-on-1 with Bletchley. They can keep him guessing by passing the Quaffle between each other, until one of the bitches pulls a Dionysius Dive or some shit. Very effective, especially with a half-decent Seeker.
But I don't think they'll use that formation now. Wood might have fluked their win last year, but he's…determined and experienced."
Whoa, I think he'd normally have a threesome with McGonagall and Dumbledore before admitting that, Bart thought, trying not to shudder his life away as Marcus continued.
"They might line up with a 2-1-2-1 because their Chasers work pretty well together. They can cover each other when attacking or defending, they can swarm on me, Pucey or Simpson when we get the Quaffle, they can trick Malfoy into giving away fouls by insulting him, and those Weasley gits can protect them in defence.
So we should press and foul aggressively while Malfoy takes on Potter. Simpson's small, but he's also quick. So he'll press less because he's not as strong and also because our side needs someone to start counterattacks. So me and Pucey will win the Quaffle and pass it to him. With his new broom, he'll leave those bellends in the dust.
Simpson, when Bletchley throws the ball, you intercept it, understand?"
"No problem."
"The Gryffindor players don't worry me – they're OK", Marcus noted, damning them with faint praise, "but with our brooms, we should crush 'em."
"So how many lashings did your Mistress hand out before giving you that broom, Simpson?" an unhappy Draco hissed.
"Enough to piss you off, obviously. By the way, you better tell Pants Down to buy you a breath mint, you inbred – ".
Marcus, already on edge, completely lost his temper.
"MALFOY! SIMPSON! THAT'S ENOUGH! I WILL NOT HAVE YOUR PETTY FIGHTING WRECK OUR CHANCES OF WINNING! IF IT DOES, YOU TWO ARE OFF THE TEAM FOREVER!
Bart rolled his eyes but refrained from firing back as he inwardly groaned.
Oh man, talk about the blow-dryer! I'll probably look like Billy Idol after this!
After telling the two off, Marcus gave his charges a wolfish grin.
"Now…we're gonna show that lot who rules this game."
The entire team roared with enthusiasm as they stormed out.
However, the weather was nowhere near as enthusiastic, as the swirling clouds and thundery rumbles bore ominous tidings. Not that Bart cared, as he raced into the centre of the metaphorical cauldron ahead of his teammates.
Alright, there's rumble in the jungle! Time to show these saps who the man is!
But then Bart looked around and frowned.
Hmmm…why aren't there as many people watching this year? Ah well, a mystery for another day, I guess. And look, most of them are booing me! Better give 'em all my lovin'.
With that, he bowed before cheerily waving to the entire stadium. The boos, hisses and jeers turned into a truly ungodly cacophony, but only the Gryffindors had the sheer nerve to throw things at him.
That said, not everyone attended this circus of contempt. Among the Ravenclaws, Luna and Terry clapped politely while Anthony and Sue passively watched, whereas Hermione and Ron were the only two Gryffindors to not boo him. Ron didn't cheer for him either, of course, but that was still an improvement over what would have transpired last year.
The Slytherins also didn't boo him outright, since they mostly still cared for house unity, but their support was very muted – until Bart's teammates joined him, of course. At their point, they tried drowning out the boos with their cheers, but to no avail.
Such efforts would soon become redundant, however, as the Gryffindors' entrance was followed by raucous cheers. Marcus thus decided to instil a siege mentality among his men.
"OK boys, it's us against them. Us against the Gryffindors. Slytherins against the school. So…let's show them who's boss."
"AYE!" the team roared, standing as one as they stared the Gryffindors down. Clearly Oliver Wood's fanaticism rubbed off on them, though, for they defiantly stood their ground.
"Shake hands, you two", Madam Hooch ordered.
As Oliver and Marcus tried ripping each other's hand off, Harry approached Bart.
"You're going down", Bart sneered.
Harry smirked.
"You first."
Seeing some lightning arc in the distance, Bart smirked back as he mounted his broom and began his own countdown.
One, two, three, FAAAAWWWWHH! Bart thought, bending his knee before speeding towards destiny.
Moments before, Lee Jordan and his partner were watching proceedings from the apparent safety of the commentary box.
"Oooooh, Gryffindor are up for it today! Ready to lose, Farley?" Lee tauntingly asked.
Gemma rolled her eyes contemptuously.
He has no idea. I can't believe that McGonagall's still letting him commentate.
"In your dreams", she muttered before piping up. "Slytherin are rising to their challenge, Jordan. And with better brooms, too!"
Lee spluttered before retorting angrily.
"The brooms don't matter, Farley! What matters is team spirit! And our team has more spirit, and more heart, than yours ever will!"
Gemma mockingly stroked her chin.
"Spirit? Heart? Are those illegal potions? Should we test the Gryffindors after the match?"
"The only team that'd be taking illegal potions is your lot!"
"Well, no we're not, because our brooms are better than yours. Although, upon further consideration, what Slytherin did does resemble doping, except it's legal."
"WOULD YOU TWO KINDLY COMMENTATE ON THE MATCH?" a Sonorus-enhanced Professor McGonagall roared while much of the stadium laughed.
Satisfied that she had wound Lee up, Gemma smirked before replying.
"Gladly. Now, Spinnet's passing the Quaffle to Johnson; Simpson's about to intercept…but the Quaffle's evaded his grasp! Now it's headed this w…what the - ?"
An ominous feeling suddenly struck her like the encroaching lightning as the Quaffle travelled towards the commentary box with frightening speed.
Gemma didn't think; she acted, her reflexes taking over as she shifted her stance, whipped out her wand and blasted the Quaffle out of the sky with a Bombarda.
"FARLEY! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!" the transfiguration teacher yelled as Gemma slumped into her seat, struggling to process what had just happened. Lee, meanwhile, just stared at her like she had just grown a second head, while the stadium angrily erupted. Luckily for her, she was in the commentary box, otherwise she'd be fearing for her life. As it was, she just stared at the professor before taking a deep breath and composing herself.
"The Quaffle was inches from my head."
"Inches from your head?" Professor McGonagall rasped before a cry and a shriek erupted behind her. After whirling around, she gasped in horror.
Ron was on his back, the wind having left him as the Snitch pounded his solar plexus relentlessly. Hermione was frozen to the spot in shock, as were the other Gryffindors. The Gryffindor head quickly reacted, vanishing the Snitch before rushing over.
"Weasley! Are you all right?" she called before applying Episkey. As Ron leapt up from the shock, the professor hauled him to his feet.
"Yeah…yeah, I'm fine", a disoriented Ron croaked before Madam Hooch spoke up.
"THIS GAME IS OVER! EVERYBODY, COME DOWN!"
Unfortunately, Bart and Harry couldn't answer her call, for both were busy dodging Bludgers. One had almost slammed into Harry's head, whereas Bart had repeatedly been inches from disaster. Unfortunately, the pair were rapidly tiring, and the approaching lightning would most certainly ruin their day.
Oh man, any more of this and I'll be saying sayonara! What can I…of course!
Quickly, Bart kicked the back of his broom with his left foot and tilted rightwards, executing a perfect 90 degree turn before shooting towards Harry's position.
Geez, Harry isn't doing any better than me. C'mon Nimbus, let's do this thing!
Bart tilted forward, brushing the incoming Gs aside as the broom rocketed along until the pair were side-by-side.
"Bart?"
"Harry, listen to me. You turn left, I turn right, then we'll fly towards each other."
"But we'll crash!"
"Hear me out. Just before we collide, we'll pull up, so the bludgers crash into each other."
"And if they don't?"
Bart briefly considered his answer. He could have told Harry the awful truth, but now wasn't the time or place.
"Don't worry about that. If we can beat the Voldulator, we can beat a couple of flying balls. Now let's go!"
Harry nodded before they turned in opposite directions, flying a short distance before turning back and commencing their little game. Just a second before contact, they both darted upwards. Blood ran to their heads, but they remained awake.
SMASH!
As Bart had hoped, the Bludgers were too heavy to turn with them, instead shattering each other into a million pieces while the boys stabilised themselves above.
"WOOHOOOOOO! EAT MY SHORTS, BLUDGERS!" Bart yelled before Harry joined in.
"EAT MY SHOOOORRRRTTSS!"
The pair then heard Madam Hooch holler.
"WHAT ARE YOU TWO PLAYING AT? GET DOWN HERE!"
Bart smirked.
"The lady wants, the lady gets", he slickly noted, gesturing for Harry to follow him before shooting downwards.
"Okkkkkk, down boy!" Bart exclaimed before his feet gracefully touched the ground, with Harry landing just behind him.
The referee then rounded on them.
"What were you doing up there?"
"Dealing with rogue Bludgers", Harry sighed.
Madam Hooch tripped over her tongue.
"R-rogue Bludgers?"
Bart rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, you know, Bludgers. Black, made of iron, hurt like hell when they hit you?"
"I know what they are!" Madam Hooch snapped. "I just don't know what you're – "
"You were targeted, weren't you?" Gemma knowingly asked as she barged through the crowd, with Ron, Hermione, the Weasleys, and the two Quidditch captains in tow.
Harry nodded, after which the Gryffindors attended to him. Gemma, meanwhile, enveloped Bart in a hug while Marcus loomed over them.
"Are you OK?"
"Yeah, yeah I'm fine, Gemma", Bart replied with uncharacteristic sheepishness before Marcus checked on him.
"I'm happy to hear that, Simpson. But who the hell did all this?" Marcus snarled, resembling a vampire as he angrily showed off his gnarled teeth.
Bart and Harry gave each other a look which said it all.
Dobby!
Author's notes for Chapter Eight:
I'm back after a month!
Why I violently killed Filch off: He was never popular, plus I wanted to raise the stakes and show how such a sadistic creature would behave in real life. I spared Mrs. Norris because I didn't want to depict animal cruelty.
Acquiring the ingredients for a Mandrake Restorative Draught from elsewhere makes more sense than waiting for them to grow.
RE Binns' interpretation of Slytherin's intentions, lore indicates that Muggleborns can be sorted into Slytherin, but it almost never happens.
The wand drawing technique that Bart outlined was based on Tom Cruise's drawing technique in Collateral (2004), which a champion gunslinger praised.
RE Willy Widdershins: He was at least 18 in 1990. I had him graduate Hogwarts in 1989, before Fred and George arrived, because they never mentioned knowing him from school or being influenced by him. His juvenile pranks IMO betray his youth. Canonically, he comes across as an opportunistic salesman: IOW adaptable, charming and even roguish. He was likely a lousy student, so much of his spell repertoire would be cultivated on the streets to best evade authority. IMO that requires decent use of basic defensive and offensive jinxes/hexes/charms/spells + Disillusionment/Silencing Charms + rudimentary Occlumency/Human Transfiguration usage. He did have some canonical command of Dark Magic (regurgitating toilets).
Smoking wasn't banned in UK prisons until 2006.
The Hawkshead formation is IMO most effective with a 1-3-1-1 formation in seven-a-side soccer (with Harry being the '1' on top). That formation is very offensive, so it would appeal to Gryffindor's sense of daring. The 2-1-2-1 is more defensive.
The blow-dryer refers to Sir Alex Ferguson, who was managing Manchester United in the early 1990s. Billy Idol also wasn't a has-been yet.
RE the rogue balls, it doesn't make sense for Dobby to just target Harry this time around - not when he previously tried to dissuade Bart, Harry, Gemma and Ron from returning to Hogwarts.
Simpsons episode references:
'The Last Temptation of Homer': The 'stimulator' line
'Lisa the Tree Hugger': GameStation
bauers374: Good to see you again! 1) No, that's too meta, 2) Gemma's manipulative, but she also cares about Bart, 3) I've never thought about this - I just pictured them as they were. Thinking of them as anime characters is a decent compromise, though, 4 & 5) True, 6) If by 'playing Pazzak' you mean pushing the limits of her authority, then yes, 7) Yeah, I couldn't help myself.
James Songbird/Monster King: Thanks.
Tenjo: My own Comic Book Guy LOL! However: 1) Like all wandless magic users, Bart has to focus on the target, and that's hard when you can't see the target AND have been paralysed, 2) You can't cast shields after you've been paralysed to my knowledge, 3) He only ever banished one person at a time, and that was over short distances, 4) Bart was ambushed by 10 concealed Slytherins. Maybe Dumbledore or Voldemort would emerge uninjured?, 5) Is it OOC for Bart to simp for attractive women? Jessica Lovejoy and Laura Powers suggest not, 6) Bart conforming to the 'status quo' was to avoid unnecessary problems, more so than fitting in. Classic-era Bart is reasonably pragmatic.