Chapter Twelve

But all good things must end, so Bart soon found himself back in school. However, the atmosphere became increasingly playful as Valentine's Day neared, with the rays of sunlight poking through the windows signifying the prospect of better things to come.

Willy added to the cheer with his antics. Whether that be whistling while he worked, taking catnaps in the corner of his office, enjoying a good cuppa during mealtimes or lighting one up whenever Snape wasn't looking, Willy was always good value.

Adding to his cult status was how his antics never ceased to confound Headmaster Snape, who favoured a more severe approach to performing one's duties. Unfortunately for Snape, he couldn't resolve the matter by simply firing Willy, for Lucius Malfoy considered him a protected species. Even Snape's supposition that Willy had been smoking pot in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom completely failed to move the aristocrat.

While Snape figured out how to change Lucius' mind, Harry focused on getting through his classes. But as he walked towards one such class, he found himself on the ground after bumping into a larger Gryffindor with wiry brown hair.

Said Gryffindor looked down at him with anger and no small amount of resentment.

"Watch your step, Potter!" Cormac McLaggen barked.

"Hey, you watch your step, McLaggen!" Ron fired back.

"He didn't watch where he was going!"

"Bullshit! The way you treat people, I'm surprised you don't shove 'em down more often!"

"Hey, what's going on here?!"

Before Ron and Cormac could come to blows, Penelope Clearwater stood between them.

"He ran into me!"

"He pushed me down!"

Penelope eyed them suspiciously, waiting for Harry or Cormac to break. But she wasn't surprised when both stood their ground.

Typical pig-headed Gryffindors. Think they're never wrong. Even Percy sometimes…

Not wanting to think badly about her boyfriend, and not wanting to mediate with Gryffindors when Luna's bullies remained anonymous, Penelope shook her head.

"Get to class, both of you! Otherwise, I'm reporting this to McGonagall."

The four Gryffindors blanched before quickly dispersing.

Unbeknownst to them, however, the altercation had been witnessed by a certain group of Hufflepuffs, alongside a certain redhead…

But Harry couldn't have cared less as he tuned out Binns' droning – only to tune right back in when a certain voice rattled his eardrums.

"I smell death. Death for breakfast. Death for traitors."

Next moment, Harry was dashing through the hall at light speed, his instincts compelling him to act before the mystery assailant could strike.

But he was too late. Because before long, he was standing before Cormac's petrified body and a puddle of water.

This isn't happening, Harry thought as he sweated his life away.

But it very much was. For within seconds, some Hufflepuffs joined him. Before he knew it…

"I KNEW IT! I SAW HIM FIGHT WITH MCLAGGEN!"

"MURDERER!"

"SCOUNDREL!"

"SNAKE!"

"EXPEL HIM!"

"ARREST HIM!"

"HANG 'IM HIGH!"

"SILENCE!" another voice barked before its owner appeared, striding up to Cormac's body and staring down for a few seconds.

Another petrified but not devoured. Hmmm…

He then craned his head up and glared at Harry.

"My my, Potter, you always manage to be in the thick of things, don't you?" the headmaster sneered before a younger voice piped up.

"Thick of wOAH!"

Like a cobra, Snape reared his head and shot a murderous glare in the voice's direction.

"Simpson."

"Hey, headmaster; enjoy your Christmas?" Bart jovially asked, as if the headmaster's glare wasn't promising murder.

Professor Snape regaled Bart with a wolfish grin which almost made Harry shudder.

"Oh yes, it was most delightful. And the finger you gave me truly topped it off. Why, I didn't know that I needed a finger to point me in the right direction, but you learn something new every day", the headmaster hissed.

"Did it point you towards enlightenment?"

As soft chuckles echoed through the crowd, the headmaster's eyes turned into slits.

"No, but it's pointing me towards giving you detention for the next week."

The crowd burst out laughing, while Bart narrowed his eyes in return.

He has got to go.

That evening, in an empty classroom, Bart vented to Gemma.

"Look Gemma, we gotta get Dumbledore back! He can turn Hogwarts into a giant crackhouse for all I care, just so long as Batjerk goes!"

Gemma composed herself before replying.

"Bart, don't do anything rash. If you get expelled, you'll never be great."

Bart would normally have listened, but right now he was the end of his rope.

"Expelled, ex-smelled; I want him gone!"

Gemma would usually have challenged him, but she knew Bart too well. If she lost control of this conversation, Bart would likely lose control and scupper her plans. And she couldn't have that.

"I'm betting that Lucius Malfoy engineered his expulsion. Like I said, the Malfoys have no scruples, and from what I've heard and seen, they don't like Dumbledore very much."

Bart looked at her thoughtfully before something clicked.

"So you're saying…if we get Drain-o's dad kicked off the board, the rest will fold faster than Drainy does when I duel him?"

Gemma grinned and tapped her nose before they both burst out laughing.

Bart sobered up first.

"But how?"

Gemma paced around the room.

"That's a very good question. I'm sure that someone as cunning as Dumbledore would be devising a plan, but father has spent a lot of time…handling our family's adversaries, so I'll ask him when I have the chance."

Bart smirked.

"Sounds good."

Even seeing Draco scowl at him when he strolled into the dormitory couldn't dampen Bart's good mood.

"Hey Drainy, did you like my Christmas present?"

"I liked vanishing it, yes."

"Well, can you try vanishing yourself next year?"

Draco smirked.

"No. Besides, you would already have vanished from Hogwarts by then."

Bart snorted.

"Dude, you weren't actually meant to drink the bottle."

"Why would I drink anything that you sent?"

"Touché, Drain-o."

"And I'm not impressed by your wit, either."

"Says the dude who sounds like a douchebag every time he talks."

"Says the dullard who can't afford a douche."

"Too bad money can't buy you talent."

"Your talent won't save you forever, Simpson."

Bart mockingly shook his legs.

"Ooh, I'm shakin' in me timbers!"

"Simpson, are you 12, or 1.2?"

"12."

"Hmph, you can count. Good for you."

"And you can count on having your ass whooped when we duel next."

Draco yawned contemptuously.

"You won't get the chance. Anyway, have a bad night, and make sure the bedbugs bite."

After Draco blocked out all sound, Bart shook his head before hitting the hay.

At which point a smirk spread across Draco's face…

Why did Draco smirk? Well…

"I've never seen somebody shoot vomit that far into the distance before", Gemma noted after the morning breakfast, her tone betraying both awe and disgust.

"Eh, Drainy's behind this, I bet", Bart noted, his mood as pungent as the sensation that lingered at the back of his throat.

"For your present, no doubt", Gemma noted. "But how did he…?"

"Dobby."

"Dobby?"

"Yeah, he saw me before Christmas and asked me not to come back. And of course, I told him what he wanted to hear."

"Obviously you didn't follow through."

Bart chuckled.

"Of course not."

Gemma's brown irises bore into Bart for a few seconds, before she finally spoke.

"He must have spiked your food with something after infiltrating the kitchens. But…"

Gemma gave Bart a twisted smile.

"I have the perfect response."

She whispered into Bart's ear, before they both laughed like maniacs.

Their laughter would be shared by dozens on Valentine's Day, as while the Slytherins walked towards the Transfiguration classroom late that afternoon, a dwarf wearing an 'I LOVE DRACO' T-shirt strode towards them.

"Oi, I got a musical message 'ere for Draco Malfoy!"

Draco's cheeks went as red as the dying sky outside as he looked at Pansy awkwardly.

"A-a message, Pansy?"

Pansy looked as flummoxed as Draco felt.

"I-I don't know anything about this, Draco."

Bart valiantly tried not to laugh as the dwarf strode up to Draco.

"Are you Draco Malfoy?"

Draco tried his best to hide his embarrassment, giving the dwarf an imperious stare before affecting a haughty response.

"And if I am?"

Taking that as a yes, the dwarf started singing.

He should be sprayed with mace,

Because he has a smug prick face.

He should be sent through a trapdoor,

Because he's such a boor.

He brings us no joy,

Because he's Malfoy.

Draco looked like he wanted to jump into the nearest trapdoor as the entire corridor burst out laughing, with Bart laughing louder than anyone.

The Weasley twins, of course, couldn't resist sticking the boot in.

"Look at him, George! He looks like he wants to choke on some bok choy!"

"I would too, if I had his face."

"And if I was a Malfoy."

"Who's totally not an ace."

Their withering barbs only added fuel to the fire, as laughter consumed the hall.

That night, Bart was still fighting off laughter as he barged into an empty classroom and pulled out his burning parchment.

"Bart, I know who opened the Chamber of Secrets."

The mischievous mage nearly fell off his chair. Of all the conversation starters he expected, that was not one of them.

"Ummm…who?"

"Hagrid."

Bart sat there for a moment, pondering the likelihood of Hagrid – one of the least Slytherin people he knew – opening Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets – before leaning back and letting rip a massive belly laugh.

Minutes later, back in Gryffindor's common room, Harry forlornly stared at the enchanted parchment as Ron returned from a long shower. Not that anything could wash away the stench of Harry's revelation, but Ron still had to try.

"Well, what did Simpson say?"

Harry turned towards Ron with an utterly defeated expression.

"He said that I was funnier than John Cleese."

Ron didn't know who that was, nor did he care. All that he cared about was that Bart had yet again shown himself to be a…

"Bloody snake."

Harry shot Ron a disapproving look, but there was no real force behind it. The truth was, he felt dismayed – no, hurt – that Bart didn't believe him.

Sure, Bart tried to be a good friend, and he invariably atoned when he hurt Harry's feelings, but that was the problem – his morals and ethics were so askew that he often couldn't tell when he was crossing lines, and Harry had a few. Was it worth being friendly with someone who could so easily toy with your feelings?

Usually, Harry would have long decided not, but as usual, contemplating Bart's character did the bespectacled mage in.

Luckily, Ron pulled him out of his funk.

"Let's tell Hermione."

Harry took a deep breath and sighed.

"Yeah, let's."

Meanwhile…

"And then…then he told me that…Hagrid did it!"

Gemma reared her head back and roared with laughter.

"Yes, I can just picture it!" Gemma exclaimed as she wiped a tear from her right eye. "That big oaf…drunkenly stumbling towards the Chamber door…before tripping over his own two feet and caving the door in!"

Bart burst out laughing once more. He knew that he shouldn't insult Hagrid, but he just couldn't help himself – Gemma's remarks were just too funny.

"Yeah, he probably caused an earthquake!"

"Yes, he probably caved half the castle in!" Gemma remarked in her reverie before suddenly locking on to Bart's visage.

"How did Potter reach this ridiculous conclusion?"

"He told me that some dude named Tom Riddle showed him."

"How?"

"Through a diary or something."

Gemma looked at him suspiciously.

"It might be a cursed object."

"Pfft, what kind of loser would bother cursing a diary?"

"You'd be surprised. Books are pretty harmless objects on their own, so they're ideal places to store curses if you want to surprise an enemy."

Like letter bombs, Bart thought as he understood what Gemma was getting at.

But the witch wasn't finished.

"You know, I wonder whether Riddle was involved."

Bart's eyes widened in surprise.

"You mean he framed Hagrid?" Bart gasped, immediately thinking of Sideshow Bob.

Gemma gave him a dubious look.

"I'm not sure about that", she admitted, "but a Slytherin should be cunning enough to cover their tracks, and opening the Chamber is pretty ambitious. Assuming that Riddle was a real Slytherin and not a fraudulent sad sack like so many of our esteemed housemates.

Did you ask for any particulars? Like the creature who was allegedly responsible? Or how someone with Hagrid's, um, talent managed to find and enter the Chamber?"

"No, I was too busy laughing!"

Gemma sighed.

"Then write back to Potter, because I'm very curious."

Bart nodded.

As Harry conferenced with Ron and Hermione, he felt a burning sensation in his pocket.

"Bart!" he yelped before pulling out the parchment and running to a table.

"Hey Harry, do you know how Hagrid got into the Chamber?"

"No, I don't."

"Well, what did Slytherin's monster look like?"

Harry thought for a moment before replying.

"It looked like a giant spider."

Gemma looked at Harry's reply and instantly smelt a rat.

"No, that can't have been Slytherin's monster."

"Why?"

"Acromantulas don't petrify people, that's why."

"You'd think that someone would have noticed that."

"Yes, especially Dumbledore."

"He was probably hepped up on goofballs or something."

"Hmph, yes. In any case, Hagrid obviously wasn't responsible. Ask Potter whether Riddle received anything in return for outing Hagrid."

"Did the Tommy Gun get anything for fingering Hagrid?"

"He received a trophy. Also, he didn't have to go back to his orphanage."

Bart and Gemma exchanged knowing looks.

This Riddle dude sounds like Sideshow Bob. Just like Drain-o's dad. Talk about getting two for the price of one. "He framed Hagrid."

Gemma slowly nodded. Even by her standards, it seemed unfathomably petty to frame somebody just because you didn't want to leave Hogwarts. Surely, surely Riddle framed Hagrid for another reason?

She wasn't entirely sure though, and that frustrated her because her instincts were usually on the mark. But maybe talking things out would help…

"I think Riddle knows more about the Chamber of Secrets than he revealed."

Bart's eyes widened.

"You mean he opened it?"

"That, or he knows who did. He is a Slytherin, after all. It's highly improbable that a non-Slytherin would have opened the Chamber, never mind Hagrid."

"So what? Do we pump The Riddler for more information?"

Gemma quickly nodded.

"What if he lies?"

"It depends on the lie. If it's obvious codswallop, I'll see through it. Even if it isn't, there's sometimes truth within a lie."

"What do you mean?"

"For example, he might accidentally give away some information when he lies. Like the location of the Chamber, for example."

Bart nodded deferentially.

"Well, what if he stops answering?"

Gemma smirked.

"Then we can assume his guilt. After all, if he wasn't, then why wouldn't he tell us everything he knows?"

Bart nodded in both understanding and reverence. He never saw himself as a sapiosexual, but Gemma constantly demonstrated otherwise.

If he was more introspective, he would have realised that his feelings for her were unprecedented and possibly unhealthy.

But he wasn't, so he didn't notice.

Instead, he wrote to Harry.

"Hey dude, you mind asking Riddle a few more questions?"

"Like?"

D'oh! "Help me out here, Gemma."

Gemma sighed before seizing the parchment.

"Potter, this is Farley. Ask Riddle whether he saw Hagrid talk to anyone out of the ordinary before the attacks. Like a Slytherin, for instance."

"OK."

A short time later...

"He said that he saw Hagrid arguing with the student who died a few days earlier."

Gemma snorted sceptically.

No doubt. "Did he mention her name?"

"No."

"Ask him. If he doesn't reveal her name, then he's probably lying."

"Maybe he wants to protect the victim, Farley."

"A victim who's been dead for 50 years? And whose identity would have been widely known, anyway?"

Bart could almost hear Harry's snarl.

"Fine."

Sure enough...

"He said that he was sworn to secrecy."

Gemma contemptuously sneered.

"Yes, a secret that couldn't be kept from anybody with an IQ above room temperature."

"Well, that's what he told me, Farley!"

Gemma scowled angrily, but before she could fire back, Bart took her hand.

Heh, no cooties. So lightning can strike twice. "Let me handle this, Gemma."

Gemma closed her eyes and sighed, before clenching her fist, thrusting the paper into Bart's lap, and storming off.

"Harry, it's Bart. You wanna chat to Hagrid about this?"

"Yeah, I'm sure he'll be really happy to talk about that time he got expelled."

Oooh, tough crowd. "Well, just say that we know he's innocent. Then he'll open up."

After a brief pause…

"Yeah, that's a good idea. But when do we go? The only class we both share is Potions, and Slughorn really likes me, so he's been giving me an easy time in class. I don't want him to start treating me like Snape did."

"Yeah, true. Tell ya what, I'll skip the Wheelie Bin's class and shoot the shit with Hagrid. He likes me, and I can talk my way 'round anyone."

Bart could just picture Harry nodding in agreement.

"Alright, Bart. Tell me what he says."

"Will do, dude. Later."

"See you, Bart."

And with that, Bart turned towards Gemma with a triumphant smirk.

"See, Gemma? All he needed was a bit of Bartesque charm."

Gemma shook her head and smirked back.

"You have a way with words Bart, I will say that. But do use the right words with Hagrid."

"Gemma, the words just come to me. It's like osmosis or something. So, can your dad knock off Drain-o's dad?"

Gemma frowned.

"Honestly, I haven't had time to ask. My workload's killing me right now. And you're more important than he is", Gemma finished with a more tender tone, hoping to butter the boy up. True to form, Bart blushed.

"Ah, I forgive you. I'll cook up a little something in the meantime, then."

Gemma rolled her eyes and shook her head. Usually, as a Prefect she would stop Bart in his tracks. But she knew that Bart wanted Snape gone so badly that attempting to stop him would undermine their relationship. Besides, Bart hadn't done anything wrong yet.

"Very well, Bart", she stuffily replied. "But don't get yourself expelled."

Bart smirked as he leant back on the chair and tapped his fingers together.

"I wouldn't dream of it, my dear", Bart airily replied.

"And I wouldn't dream of leaving you alone", Gemma replied in a much sterner tone which brooked no dissent. "Come on, it's getting late."

Bart sighed but his body complied, as he trooped towards the dangerous.

It was then that he had a eureka moment.

That's it! A teacher's strike! I've already kicked one off before, and I can just picture the look on the Headhooker's face when he figures out what's going on!

While the duo walked, Bart innocently stretched his arms together. For Gemma, this signified his fatigue.

For his part, Bart looked forward to launching a Bart-borne strike.

But that had to wait, for the burning parchment made Bart leap into the air the next morning. He then rushed out, much to the amusement of his roommates.

"Don't forget to leave the school later, Simpson", Draco sneered.

If I leave, you're coming with me, man, Bart inwardly snarked before entering an empty classroom, sitting his butt down and pulling out Harry's parchment.

"What's up, man?"

"The diary's gone."

What the hell?

"Umm, do you know who took it?"

"Oh yeah, it was Joe Blow from Heathrow. Look, if I knew who took it, I would already have gotten it back."

Wow, he must have Salad-zar's snake up his butt or something. "Just asking, Harry."

A brief pause pervaded before…

"Yeah, I know. Sorry about that, Bart. I'm just worried about the diary falling into the wrong hands."

"Look dude, it can't have gotten far. I'll tell you what, I'll break into the tower and search every dorm."

"But if a girl took it…you'd need some Polyjuice Potion to get in", Harry noted, remembering Hermione mentioning that potion before he asked Bart about Draco being the heir.

Much to his surprise, Bart recalled Professor Snape mentioning that potion in class. He usually didn't pay too much attention to his teachers, but after Snape had snuck up on Bart before his cauldron entered orbit, the boy kept a very close watch on the professor's movements. After all, Bart hated being blindsided by antagonistic authority figures.

"Oh yeah. It can turn you into a chick, right?"

"Yeah. We thought about getting some and sneaking into the Slytherin Common Room."

Bart snorted.

"That would have been a waste of time. Drainy's the Heir of Failure, not the Heir of Slytherin."

"True. But I don't think you get a free sample at Slughorn's Slug Club or anything…"

"No, but maybe we can sucker him into giving us the ingredients for an extra credit assignment or something."

"Extra credit assignment? But…"

"It's probably an American thing; that's why no-one here does it. But ol' Sluggo thinks that our work's OK, and he wouldn't invite us to his Slug Club if he hated us."

"True. So, are you telling Farley what we're doing?"

"Nah, she's a Slytherin, so she can't do anything."

"Fair enough. Anyway, just go up to Slughorn, make up some crap about wanting another assignment because you love Potions so much, and make it about the Polyjuice Potion. If Slughorn likes you so much, he'll give you the ingredients on the spot."

"Are you sure that will work?"

"Well, there's no harm in trying."

"True. Tell me what Hagrid says, OK?"

"Sure thing, man."

When Bart entered Hagrid's hut, the half-giant was sullenly staring at his teacup.

"Oh, hey Bart."

"Hey Hagrid, how've you been?"

"Eh, I've been better", Hagrid muttered. "First some of me roosters go missing, and then I find that some patches in me secret garden have been ripped out. It's probably that blighter Widdershins lookin' for some stuff to smoke."

Bart burst out laughing.

"Yeah, that dude's really something, huh?"

"Right on, Bart", Hagrid agreed. "Always been a ruffian, that bloke. Amazin' that Professor Snape hasn't kicked him out yet. Anyway, what did ya want?"

"Umm…it'sssssss about the Chamber…"

Hagrid angrily leapt up and loomed over Bart.

"The Chamber of Secrets!" Hagrid bellowed. "You seriously think that I killed Myrtle?!"

Bart tried not to shiver under Hagrid's shadow.

"N-no, Harry and I think that's a load of crap."

Hagrid slumped down into his seat.

"Oh, thank God", a half-dazed Hagrid muttered. "That's all backalong, that stuff, but it still haunts me at night, you know. How Riddle stitched me up…"

"I know, Hagrid", Bart replied as he just about refrained from badmouthing Dumbledore. "I'm surprised that everyone actually fell for it."

Hagrid sighed.

"Not everyone did. Dumbledore insisted that it couldn't have been me that killed Myrtle, but that ol' fogey Dippet wasn't having any of it. Thought the world of Riddle, he did."

Dippet? More like dipshit! "That sucks."

"Yeah, I had me wand snapped and everything. But at least Dumbledore had Dippet keep me on as groundskeeper. That was something, I guess."

"Yeah, it's better than nothing", Bart consoled. Seeing that his reassurance had perked up Hagrid's mood, the boy decided to ask the hard questions.

"So, who's Myrtle?"

"Oh, you don't know Moanin' Myrtle? She lives in a bathroom on the second floor. No one ever goes in there, 'cos she's no fun to be around, really."

Oh, she lives in a bathroo – wait a minute, she lives here? "Has anyone spoken to her about this?"

Hagrid shrugged.

"I dunno."

Bart shook his head in bemusement…before hearing footsteps approaching.

"Quick Bart, hide!"

"No problemo."

And with that, Bart vanished just before Hagrid opened the door.

When he did, he found…

"Minister Fudge!"

"Hello, Hagrid. May I come in?"

"Y-yes."

And with that, a stout, grey-haired man uneasily made his way inside.

This dude must've dropped some acid before putting his clothes on or something, Bart thought, trying not to laugh at the Minister's long black cloak, pointed purple boots, pinstriped suit and scarlet tie.

"I'd say it's a pleasure to see you Hagrid, but…"

"Yes?"

"The board's been in touch. The caretaker's been murdered, several students have been petrified…I have to act."

"What are you talkin' about?"

"In other words, you will be confined within Azkaban until the perpetrator is caught."

What? Wow, this dude would give Otto a run for his money, Bart thought. He just couldn't believe how stupid wizards could be.

Evidently, neither could Hagrid. Indeed, his face became as pale as the moon. But somehow, he composed himself.

"Alright Fudge, I'm comin'", Hagrid snarled. "But Fang'll need to be fed. And the spiders will need to be followed into the forest. But you know I'd never…"

"Yes, I believe you Hagrid", Fudge placated, ignoring Hagrid's seeming non sequiturs. "Dumbledore has always spoken highly of you. But my hands are tied."

And with that, an utterly defeated Hagrid followed Fudge outside while Fang, his boarhound, howled miserably.

As soon as the coast was clear, Bart bolted.

"They've actually locked Hagrid up? Are you serious?"

"'Fraid so. And you'll have to feed his dog."

After a brief pause...

"What a load of bollocks. Anyway, did you find out who the victim was?"

"Yeah, it was Myrtle."

"Moaning Myrtle?! Are you serious?"

"Sure am."

"Hermione, Ron and me will speak to her first thing tomorrow, then."

"You do that. Also, Hagrid said something about following the spiders into the forest. I had detention there last year, so I know a bit about the joint."

"We'll go there tomorrow night, then. I'll see you at Slughorn's meeting."

And so that night, in the large and luxurious confines of Professor Slughorn's office, Bart and Harry found themselves shaking hands like Menachem Begin and Anwar Sadat while the new potions professor beamed like Jimmy Carter.

"That's the spirit, lads!" the portly man guffawed. "Let this be a pivotal moment in inter-house relations! We must be united against what threatens us!"

Too bad you'll be divided after I'm done, Bart thought, before Harry spoke up.

"Uh, Professor? Me and Ron would like to talk to you about something."

"Sure, m'boy! Anything for Lily's son! Now Bart, why don't you talk to Eldred Worple over there? He wrote Blood Brothers: My Life Amongst the Vampires, and now he wants to write your biography!"

"Does he now?" Bart replied with genuine interest, having fully intended to release a biography about himself. Gemma, who was equally interested in releasing a biography, quickly followed.

"You know what's funny? I don't see our darling Draco anywhere!" Gemma sniggered.

"Yeah, that's because you gotta have talent to get an invite here", Bart sneered as a small, stout, bespectacled man approached them.

"Bart Simpson! It's a pleasure to meet you! I'm Eldred Worple and that's my friend Sanguini. He's a vampire."

"Cool", Bart gushed while Eldred turned to Gemma.

"And you must be Gemma Farley", Eldred observed before kissing Gemma's hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Worple", Gemma replied, hoping to impress the older wizard with her etiquette. Sure enough…

"Oh, you can call me Eldred, Miss Farley!"

"And you may call me Gemma."

While they were exchanging pleasantries, Bart struck up a conversation with Sanguini.

"So, what's it like being a vampire?"

"It's fine, I suppose", the tall, emaciated humanoid nonchalantly replied while a gaggle of girls treated him like a zoo exhibit. "It's just that having people stare at me becomes very tiresome after a while."

"Yes, that sounds terrible", Bart insincerely replied.

"Indeed."

Gee, talking to a vampire is way more boring than I thought it'd be, Bart observed before Eldred started speaking with him.

"So Bart, Gemma and I were just discussing contracts for her biography and yours. She suggested that I contact her family's contract lawyers. Do you favour that idea?"

Bart furtively glanced at Gemma, who quickly nodded.

"Absolutely."

And the next morning, Bart absolutely looked forward to kicking off a teacher's strike.

Hopefully that'll be easier than trying to nail the flipper, Bart thought as he grimaced in frustration. Since the Christmas break, he had earnestly been working on the Flipper, but things hadn't gone to plan.

Whirling his arm 180 degrees was easy enough, but simultaneously pushing his wand back into his palm proved rather tricky. And if that was tricky, then squeezing his wand in the prescribed manner seemed downright impossible. Worse still, Bart knew that there was no guarantee that he'd land it in the right spot.

As such, he was that close to giving up. But he didn't want to. Not yet, anyway. Instead, he put it aside and focused on what was in front of him.

Like Harry's message.

"Bart, we've spoken to Myrtle."

"And?"

"She said that she heard a funny language in her bathroom, saw some big, yellow eyes, and then died."

Bart stroked his chin.

"A funny language? Like Dutch? Hebrew? Western Punjabi?"

"She said that it sounded like hissing."

"You mean like a snake?"

"Maybe – I mean, wizards can talk to snakes."

"…you made that up."

"No, I didn't! When I was visiting the zoo, I spoke to a boa constrictor. It told me that it had never seen Brazil, and - ".

"Oh wow, you can talk to snakes. That is so cool!"

"Look, that doesn't matter! What matters is that some sort of snake might be attacking the students!"

"That doesn't narrow things down."

"No, but Hermione will do some research."

"Yeah, OK. Did you pull a fast one on Slughorn?"

"Unfortunately, no. He said that he didn't want to burden us with extra work."

"Damn, that sucks. But don't worry, I'll think of something." Right after I turn the teachers against Captain Hook…

And so, when Bart saw Professor McGonagall stride through a crowded corridor, he disillusioned himself and went to work.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, THE TEACHERS ARE GETTING LAID OFF?"

"FIRED?"

"SNAPE'S SACKING THE TEACHERS IN THE MORNING?!"

The corridor went into an uproar while McGonagall stopped, her face turning all sorts of colours before she angrily stormed off.

Bart smirked.

Finito.

Meanwhile, Headmaster Snape was in a bad mood. Sure, Hagrid wasn't his cup of tea, but he was still the groundskeeper, and his removal meant that he had to now hire another one. Unfortunately for him, his mood would only worsen after his exchange with the woman who had just entered.

"What is the meaning of this, Severus?"

Severus looked completely nonplussed.

"Whatever do you mean, Minerva?"

"I mean that I've been hearing rumours that you plan to fire us all!"

Severus stared at her.

"And you believed them, Minerva?"

"Well, I have to take them seriously Severus, especially during these dark times! For all I know, Lucius suggested this so that he could cement his control over the school!"

The ageing witch would not normally have been so paranoid, but she had a long memory, and so she knew how conniving Lucius could be.

"Pardon me, but Lucius is not my puppet master."

However, Lucius striding into the office gave Minerva entirely the wrong impression. Her face paled briefly before she furiously turned back to Snape.

"Really, Severus? Because you two seem to spend a lot of time plotting together! And to think that Albus trusted you! Well, I will be on strike until you reconsider your priorities. And I will not be alone!"

And with that, she stormed out of the office.

An utterly dumbfounded Lucius stared at Severus.

"What on earth was that all about, Severus?"

"It was about a repugnant brat making mischief, I suspect", Severus hissed before quickly standing up. "But that does not matter. We must talk Minerva down."

The ever-savvy Lucius immediately realised what would happen if they did not. Professor McGonagall would organise a strike, most of the teachers would join her, and the school would have to close. Parent after parent would then demand his removal from the board for not preventing such.

"Indeed, Severus. Let us depart."

But they were too late. For when they were making their way to the staffroom, Professor McGonagall's magically magnified voice echoed through the corridors.

"Attention, staff! Headmaster Snape and Lucius Malfoy plan to terminate our employment! We must go on strike until they reconsider!"

The headmaster stared blankly into the distance before turning to an ashen-faced Lucius.

"Dumbledore must be reinstated, Lucius. Only he can talk Minerva down now."

Lucius looked appalled.

"Absolutely not, Severus. His negligence placed the students in jeopardy!"

Snape gave the older man a piercing glare.

"Well, what else would you do, Lucius? Close the school down, perchance? Or maybe appoint Widdershins as headmaster?"

"'Ey, did someone mention me?"

Merlin's beard, this day could not possibly get any worse, the beleaguered headmaster thought as Willy walked up to them.

"Widdershins, I believe that there is a strike for you to join."

Willy burst out laughing.

"Sevvy mate, you crack me up! Why would I quit this gig? I mean, I can wave me wand around and make an honest living!"

Lucius appraised the ragged caretaker.

"Mr. Widdershins."

Willy turned towards him with an uneasy expression.

"Lucius. It's been a while, 'ey?"

"Yes, it has. Are you any closer to paying off your debt?"

Willy clutched his chest.

"Yes, sir."

"That's good to hear."

Severus shook his head.

"What in Merlin's name made you purchase his gambling debts?"

"It was a favour, Severus." To myself.

Severus nodded before giving Lucius an expectant glare.

"Very well, Severus. Let us go to your office."

"'Ey, what's going on?"

Severus turned around.

"Nothing that concerns you, Widdershins. If you are going to remain a thorn in my side, then I suggest that you do some actual work."

"Sure thing, Sevvy!" Willy hollered, saluting the headmaster before cleaning in earnest.

The headmaster contemptuously shook his head before ushering Lucius along.

Sure enough, during dinner…

"Good evening, children", Lucius began with all the cheer of a man who had just gotten the chair, "I am here to inform you that Albus Dumbledore will be reinstated as headmaster."

Cheers erupted from the Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables as the headmaster took centre stage, while the staff – whom Dumbledore had presumably negotiated with beforehand – warmly applauded. Harry and Ron looked particularly chuffed, while Bart leant back and prided himself on a job well done. He might not have liked Dumbledore, but he'd take him over Snape any day of the week.

"Boys and girls, I am honoured to be reinstated as headmaster", Headmaster Dumbledore began. "I shall begin by making some announcements. Firstly, Quidditch practice and matches will remain postponed."

Marcus Flint angrily banged his fist on the table while Bart slapped his head in frustration. Over at the Gryffindor table, Oliver Wood was presumably hollering angrily, but Bart couldn't quite tell.

"Secondly, Mr. Widdershins has agreed to take on groundskeeper duties until Hagrid is released from Azkaban, or until a permanent replacement is hired."

It was at this moment that Madam Pomfrey ran to the headmaster and whispered something into his ear. While she did, Bart scanned the Gryffindor table.

Hey, where's Georgina?

He'd soon find out, as the expression on the headmaster's face darkened before he uttered words that were as grim as he made them sound.

"Thirdly, I must solemnly inform you that Miss Hermione Granger and Penelope Clearwater's petrified forms were found outside the library…"

Author's Notes for Chapter Twelve

Ugh, that was one long delay. I've been constantly working, so I've had to write this chapter over several months. All apologies.

While this has never been proven conclusively in canon, let's just say that staff firings have to be endorsed by the board.

Canonically, the Basilisk supposedly only attacked Muggleborns. In reality: 1) We don't know if Penelope actually was Muggleborn, 2) It's highly unrealistic that only Muggleborns would be petrified - Hogwarts is crowded enough that a few non-Muggleborns would likely be collateral damage, even if the Basilisk could 'sniff out' Muggleborns (a pretty ridiculous notion) and 3) We do not know if McLaggen was a pure-blood. The Death Eaters were generally contemptuous towards halfbloods.

I wanted to make sure that Gemma didn't become a Mary Sue by solving all of Bart's problems for him, hence the red herring about her asking her dad about removing Lucius Malfoy.

The diary vanishing earlier than in canon is just me trying to speed up the plot.

Extra credit assignments are an American thing, not a UK/AUS thing.

There's a reason why I said 'some' of Hagrid's roosters disappeared and not 'all'. That'll become apparent later.

Camp David 1978: Menachem Begin and Anwar Sadat shook hands while Jimmy Carter watched.

Subwaysurf: Will do.

bauers374: Not planning on it - too meta/Yes, it is.

Monster King/James Songbird: Thanks.