A/N: This was originally penned for a homework assignment on MNI (Mugglenet Interactive). It got a pretty good response, so my pal Krissy (mahoosive thanks go out to her!!) encouraged me to post it!

This is the original assignment:
Write a story about the time Dumbledore lost Fawkes and the only person he trusted to find it was Severus Snape. Your story can be up to 1000 words.

---

Late-Night Antics:
Who Let the Fawkes Out?!

Puffing and panting, Harry clutched onto his Invisibility cloak and ran as fast as he could up to Gryffindor Tower. Filch had definitely seen him, no doubt about it. Why oh why did he have to fall asleep in the library at one o'clock in the morning? All he had intended to do was sneak down there to finish his essay for Professor McGonagall. He knew he'd been taking too much on recently, what with Quidditch and the NEWTs approaching… he had let his guard slip – and, unfortunately, his Invisibility cloak.

Turning a corner towards the portrait of the Fat Lady, Harry was about to throw off the cloak and mumble the password when he came across the strangest sight. His breath caught in his throat as he choked back a gasp of surprise: he had nearly run into a ladder … with Snape balancing precariously on top. If there was ever a time when Harry wanted to summon Colin Creevey and his camera, this was it!

Snape was dressed in blue and white striped pyjamas and a light blue night cap with small owls embroidered all over it. As Harry's eyes wandered over the scene before him, he noticed that covering Snape's hands and forearms were a pair of bright yellow… marigolds. Completely baffled, Harry stood back and watched as Snape stretched out his arm as far as he could reach, to a spot high up near the ceiling.

"Come here you little…" Snape hissed at the ceiling. "Look, I haven't got all night you scrawny sparrow!"

Harry glanced at the Fat Lady's portrait and realized that he couldn't creep into the Gryffindor Common Room even if he wanted to – the ladder was blocking the way completely. Besides, curiosity had taken over him, and he followed Snape's gaze upwards to see a set of glowing scarlet feathers floating high up in the corner. The feathers ruffled as Snape pulled out his wand from his pocket and poked at the mass in the corner.

"Get – down –here – NOW!" he snarled.

"Fawkes...?" Harry breathed, stepping carefully around the ladder and not taking his eyes away from the phoenix. Fawkes was perched on one of the empty torch-holders, and Harry swore he could see the bird's eyes twinkling much like Dumbledore's often did. If Snape had been glaring at him like that, Harry thought, his eyes would be far from twinkling.

At that moment, rapid shuffling footsteps echoed around the corridor. Snape looked absolutely panic-stricken, and clumsily tried climbing down the ladder as fast as he could. Harry backed into the corner opposite Fawkes and was making sure his Invisibility cloak was completely covering him when–

"PEEVES?!" It was the unmistakable cry of Filch the caretaker. He had evidently heard Snape clanging around on the ladder. As Filch turned the corner and spotted Snape, his eyes widened in mild surprise, taking in the pyjamas and marigolds Snape wore.

Harry stifled a laugh, not sure which was funnier: Snape dressed like a Muggle house-wife coaxing Dumbledore's bird from its perch, or Filch ogling at him like a mad man. Suddenly he was extremely pleased he had fallen asleep in the library that night and found that it took nearly all of his willpower to restrain himself from throwing off his Invisibility cloak and revealing his presence, just to see the look on Snape's face.

"Oh! Professor… my apologies, I thought that Peeves… umm… well, sorry Professor." His voiced trailed off; his eyes darting between the ladder and the brightly coloured rubber gloves. Snape glanced down, just realizing what he was wearing, and hastily tried taking off the marigolds whilst still holding the ladder under one arm.

The caretaker began to take a few steps back, watching Snape who was now almost hopping on the spot trying to peel the gloves from his skin without dropping the ladder. "Well obviously I'm not Peeves," Snape snarled through gritted teeth.

"Er…yes, Professor," Filch mumbled, not quite sure where to look. "I should also let you know I spotted a student creeping around in the library," he croaked. Harry stirred in the corner, but Filch was now eyeing the owl-embroidered hat upon Snape's head.

Snape promptly snatched the night cap from his head; his hair dishevelled. Harry grinned, thinking that Ron would even gladly kiss Malfoy if he had to, to see this.

"If a student is out of bed, Filch," Snape spat, "you should be looking for them!" At that moment, Fawkes made a chirruping noise from where he was perched, and Snape snatched a quick glance up behind him to make sure that Fawkes was still hidden from Filch's view. As casually as he could, he moved underneath where the phoenix was perched, poking the bird with the top of the ladder – presumably to try and shut it up.

Filch was still gaping at Snape, and looked up at the ceiling, probably wondering vaguely if Snape had gone mad. At that moment, a white blur fell from the ceiling and made an unmistakable plip landing in Snape's hair, and continued to drip down onto his shoulder. Snape's eyes blazed, his jaw set; he glared at Filch as if daring him to say something.

Filch looked dumbfounded and looked again at the marigolds and night cap draped over Snape's arm. Harry was positively doubled up with silent laughter, practically forcing his fist into his mouth to stop himself from laughing out loud. Snape continued to ignore Fawkes' "gift" on his head, and said dangerously, "If you don't find that student, Filch…"

"Yes, Professor," answered Filch, stifling a grin; and at that, Filch disappeared from view, his shuffling footsteps fading down the corridor.

Snape replaced his night cap on his head, which squelched as it squashed the white mess in his hair; and, as if to prove to himself that he was too important to be chasing after birds in the middle of the night, he held his chin up high and marched off down the corridor.

---

Stay tuned for more late-night antics, including spiked punch, celebratory Quidditch parties, a bizarre note, and fun with the Floo Network...

A/N: This particular story was inspired by someone asking me what my username (FlooCrookshanks) meant, and I had absolutely no idea! So, now I’ll have something to answer with *grin*. Bare in mind, this is the second instalment of my Late-Night Antics series; you may want to read the first part (“Who Let The Fawkes Out�) to understand some of the gags. :)

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Late Night Antics, Part 2:
“Let’s Floo Crookshanks!�

Late Saturday afternoon – three days after what many students were referring to as the ‘The Night Snape Came Out The Fairy Closet" – Harry was to be found hoisted upon the shoulders of his fellow Gryffindor team mates.

Chants of "Potter! Potter! Potter!" rang out in the Quidditch stadium; the roar of the crowd echoing in Harry’s ears as he was carried across the pitch. He spotted Ron in the crowd, and the two shared a momentary grin. With that, Harry dramatically tossed the Snitch into the air to renewed cheers. The fluttering golden ball twirled in the air a few times, then promptly rammed itself up Neville’s left nostril. The air was filled with excitement at the prospect of another all-night Gryffindor party.

For reasons Harry assumed were purely congratulatory, he received excessive slaps on the back and even his rear as he was hauled all the way up to Gryffindor Tower. He was just wondering how red and painful his body would be by the end of the night if this kept up when he was abruptly thrown through the portrait hole to shouts of "Pigtails!" which was, incidentally, the password and not the first signs of student madness.

The Gryffindors filtered into the common room after Harry as he made his way up to the dormitory to change into something more comfortable. Wincing from the pain of his rather battered body, he took off his muddy clothes. Realisation dawned upon him as he peeled a sign off the back of his Quidditch robes which read "Spank me if you think I’m sexy ". Something told him the Weasley twins had something to do with this…

Chuckling to himself, he walked over to the other side of the room and pinned the sign onto Ron’s school bag, then proceeded to change into a pair of old jeans and a t-shirt before heading back down into the common room.

Even though Harry had barely been gone five minutes, the party had already begun as though he’d been dawdling upstairs for an hour. Streamers littered the floor; large banners of the Gryffindor Quidditch team had been hung up on the walls; food had been set up on tables all around the room, and a large bowl of pink-coloured punch sat on a lone table, surrounded by plastic cups.

Students stood chatting animatedly in groups, all clutching plates piled high with food or cups full of punch. The pictures of the Quidditch team on the banners were waving and smiling at the people below. Harry grimaced when he saw that his picture-self was squinting as though looking in a mirror and examining a spot on his chin. He sighed and made a mental note to get Ron to help him take the banners down later.

Just then, Fred and George came striding towards him.

"All right there, Harry?" they chorused, standing on either side of him and each resting an arm on one of his shoulders.

"Help yourself to food and drink, mate," said George, winking at Fred.

"Yeah," said Fred, grinning broadly. "Plenty of drink."

Harry raised an eyebrow at them both.

"We spiked the punch," George explained matter-of-factly. The three of them watched on as Ron wandered over to the punch table and downed two cups of the pink liquid.

"Looks like this is going to be an interesting night," Harry chuckled.

"And so - it begins!" said Fred, theatrically rubbing his hands together and heading straight for a plate of sausages.

***

An hour later, a few of the students had made their way to the couches, still talking excitedly about the match. Fred and George stood in a corner, surrounded by a large group of people who were watching them show off their latest inventions. Most people were dotted around the room holding half-full cups of punch.

Most people… except Ron, whose lips and tongue were bright pink and Harry could hear him telling anyone who’d listen that he was, in fact, Superman’s cousin twice-removed. He was already on his seventh round of punch.

Needless to say, Hermione wasn’t very impressed. Despite stating numerous times that Ron could "do what he liked for all she cared�, Harry saw her frequently glance at the swaying red-head, and frown as Ron flopped his head on Lavender Brown’s shoulder.

Lavender ignored him, however, and continued gossiping with Parvati.

"Did you hear about Snape’s discovery?" Lavender said in a whisper loud enough for Harry to hear from where he sat with Hermione.

"About the marigolds leaving yellow stains on your hands after wearing them for too long?" said Parvati, sipping her punch and eyeing Ron distastefully. Ron’s head had slipped off Lavender’s shoulder and he’d begun crawling back to where Harry and Hermione sat, mumbling something about toads.

"No, no, no!" Lavender shook her head, spilling drink all down her front. "Apparently, phoenix poo has healing powers!"

"No!" Parvati gasped.

"Yes!"

"No!"

"YES!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Actually, it’s true," she said haughtily. "It works as a brilliant shampoo, apparently."

"How did he find that out, though?" Parvati asked, a baffled look on her face. "Do they regularly test animal waste on hair or something?" She pulled a face.

"Well, you heard what happened. Maybe Snape just rubbed it in a little…" Hermione winced as though trying not to think about it.

"See, I told you his hair looked shinier than usual, Lavender,"

"Yeah, we really should get hold of some!" Lavender replied excitedly. "It really has given his hair much more volume…"

Harry turned away from the conversation at this point, not really liking the images he had in his head of Snape prancing about with an afro haircut.

He was grateful when a loud hissing sound omitted his thoughts. Ron had somehow managed to crawl onto the sofa in between Harry and Hermione, accidentally sitting on Crookshanks’ tail on his way there.

"Be careful, Ron!" Hermione scolded.

Ron ignored Hermione and turned his back on her, frowning.

"What’s the matter, Ron?" Harry asked, gulping down more punch.

"D’you reckon she would notice if we threw that damn cat in the fire?" he slurred, jerking his head in Crookshanks’ direction, who was looking rather disgruntled and stalking up the stairs towards the dormitories.

"I heard that, Ron!" Hermione said crossly from the other side of him.

"Oi, Harry!" a voice called from across the room.

Harry looked up to see Fred walking towards him. "I don’t suppose you’ve got any spare Filibuster Fireworks stashed upstairs, have you, mate?" said the twin, looking rather pleased with himself. "We’ve just sold all ours to that lot." He jerked his head towards the gathering crowd, now cheering as George demonstrated a sweet that turned his entire face bright blue.

"Er – maybe," said Harry slowly, trying to remember whether he and Ron had really used their last lot to singe off all the hair on Malfoy’s head, or whether he’d just dreamt it. "I’ll go and have a look."

He stood up unsteadily and made his way up the stairs to the boy’s dormitory. He stood in the doorway looking around the room for any inspiration as to where they might have put the fireworks, if they indeed had any. He spotted a familiar-looking "Spank me if you think I’m sexy" note taped onto Seamus’ neatly folded school robes and chuckled. "This note certainly is doing the rounds tonight," he said to himself, figuring that Ron must’ve spotted it on his school bag earlier.

Spotting a bag under his own bed that had "Zonko’s" printed on it in large, comical letters, he fished through it, grabbed a handful of unused Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks, and headed back downstairs to the common room.

***

Three hours into the party – the night still young – empty plastic cups and burnt-out fireworks were strewn all over the common room floor. It was evident that a fair amount of students had been indulging in the punch, as Harry noticed that a large group of people had formed a staggered circle and were playing some twisted form of Truth or Dare.

Dean Thomas was crouched in front of one of the tables and seemed to be eating the tablecloth.

"Oh come on, more than that!" Seamus called out, who was wearing a pair of rather large, frilly pink knickers on his head.

Shaking his head in mild bewilderment, Harry made his way past the circle and sat down next to Ron, who was half-lying down on the couch with his head propped up on one arm. He seemed to be watching the game of Truth or Dare, yet his eyes seemed rather unfocused.

"How much punch have you really had, Ron?" Hermione asked, frowning at him from an armchair beside the fire.

"Er…" Ron held a hand up in front of his face and began counting his fingers very slowly. "Probably about… er…"

Hermione sighed. She stroked Crookshanks idly, who was now curled up on her lap and purring contentedly.

"Dunno," Ron said eventually.

Harry snorted loudly. He was beginning to lose count of his own drinks as well.

He nudged Ron and handed him another cup of punch. Ron grinned stupidly, and held his punch up to Hermione as though making a toast. "See, Hermy," he slurred loudly, "Harry doesn’t think I’ve had too much!"

He burped and then took three large gulps of the punch, almost downing the entire cup. Hermione frowned.

"Honestly, you’re both as bad as each other!" she said, standing up suddenly, causing Crookshanks to slide off her lap. The cat hissed at Harry and Ron, then settled in front of the blazing fire. "And I think you’ve had quite enough of that!"

She had snatched the cup out of Ron’s hand, but Ron had barely noticed. He was frowning at Crookshanks.

"What are you doing, Ron?" Hermione snapped irritably.

"S’lookin’ at me," he grunted, looking suspiciously at Crookshanks as though the cat were about to attack him any moment. "Look at ‘is eyes, Harry… definably… definabibly… definitely plotting to kill us."

Harry peered at Crookshanks. He did look rather evil…

"Oh, Ron, don’t be ridiculous." Hermione said. "He’s just a cat, for crying out loud! He’s probably wondering where half your brain cells have disappeared to."
Ron opened his mouth as if to say something, and then closed it again.

Eager to not be stuck in the middle of another argument, Harry stood up much too quickly and had to steady himself for a moment.

He observed his surroundings, trying to avert his eyes from the game of Truth or Dare, whereby Lavender Brown was fervently kissing the portrait of Roger the Revolting to many cries of disgust. A girl, whose face Harry couldn’t see, was prodding Parvati Patil, who was bent over the punch bowl trying to eat the bits of food that had found its way in there. Harry laughed openly when he noticed that the infamous "Spank me if you think I’m sexy" sign had somehow found its way onto the back of Parvati’s skirt.

He suddenly spotted Neville across the room, who was running around randomly grabbing hold of people, screaming in their faces, and then dashing off to the next person.

"You alright there, Neville?" Harry said, approaching him and realising that he’d had more punch than he first thought. Neville’s nose looked about four times its usual size, and Harry had to squint to make sure he was seeing straight – his vision was becoming rather blurry.

When he looked closer, he saw that Neville’s nose was indeed much bigger than usual, and swore he thought he could see a golden glimmer from inside one of his nostrils. Harry suddenly remembered the Snitch from the game earlier that day. Evidently, Neville had been unable to remove it.

"Harry!" Neville yelped. "The Snitch! I-It’s stuck up my nose! And no one will help me!�

Harry instantly found his shoes very interesting indeed, so he stared intently at them. He strongly hoped that Neville wasn’t going to ask him to remove the Snitch with his own fingers.

"Er – yeah," he said awkwardly, taking a large gulp of punch. "Everyone’s – er – a bit busy, I think."

"Help me, please!" Neville cried desperately. “Argh!! It’s moving!�

Neville’s nose twitched, and Neville ran screaming around the room, waving his arms around madly.

“It’s going to kill me!�

"Don’t be silly!" Harry called after him, ignoring the fact that having a Snitch up your nose in the first place was rather silly in itself. Harry’s voice fell on deaf ears, though. Neville had just run straight into the back of the Fat Lady’s portrait, and now lay motionless on the floor. "Oops."

A moment later, Neville’s nose twitched again and out popped the tiny Snitch. It hovered for a moment, then zoomed past Harry’s face and out one of the windows.

Harry stood stunned for a moment, unsure of what to do or think. Eventually, he made his way back over to Ron, who had stormed away from Hermione in a huff and begun drowning his frustration in the punch bowl.

***

Hours later, most students had made their way up to their dormitories. Others were draping themselves over each other on the couches and armchairs, or had passed out in heaps on the floor. The food and drink from earlier lay forgotten. Hermione had long since gone off to bed, leaving Crookshanks sleeping in one of the armchairs.

The game of Truth or Dare had eventually fizzled out, and now the only people moving around at all were Seamus and Dean, who were sitting in front of the fire, throwing random things into it. Harry and Ron lay entwined on the floor watching the other two boys, occasionally cheering half-heartedly if they burned something particularly interesting. So far, in Harry’s opinion, Dean’s underwear had produced the most interesting display.

"Wassat up there?" Ron grunted suddenly, pointing to something on the mantelpiece above the fireplace.

"Ungh…" Harry sat up groggily, his head still buzzing a little from earlier.

Dean got unsteadily to his feet and peered at what looked like a grey container.

"Hey, it looks like floo powder!" exclaimed Seamus from behind him, who had also stood up. He picked up the container and took it over to where Harry and Ron sat. Ron took it from him and placed it carefully on the palm of his hand. The four boys huddled together, examining the pot.

"Yep, definitely floo powder," Ron confirmed, suddenly sounding more sober than he had done all night. He licked his lips hungrily. "Fred and George would have a field day! Think of the possibilities!"

Harry was still trying to make sense of things. He still felt dizzy.

"Let’s test it out, then" he said, yawning and rubbing his eyes.

"Okay, but - er – what with?" asked Dean. All four boys began scanning the room for ideas.

"How about this?" said Seamus, tugging at a cushion on one of the sofas. A low grunt issued from somewhere beneath, presumably they’d been using the cushion as a head-rest. Seamus shrugged and pulled the cushion free, then tossed it to Dean.

"It’ll do," said Ron.

The four stood up and congregated awkwardly around the fireplace. They looked at each other expectantly.

"Go on then," said Harry finally, giving Ron a nudge.

"Right," said the red-head, looking as though he’d suddenly realised he wasn’t quite sure what to do. "Okay – er – Dean. You throw the cushion, and I’ll throw the floo powder."

"Right," said Dean, looking rather anxious all of a sudden.

"Where are we sending it to?" Harry asked, realising that he had no idea what places were actually connected to the floo network at this time of night.

Silence.

"I dunno," said Ron shortly. "How about… the Hufflepuff common room?"

"Do they even have a fireplace?" Harry asked, trying to remember if he’d ever been there before.

"Dunno," said Seamus, shrugging. "Might as well find out."

"Okay. Harry, you call that out as we toss these bits in, then," said Ron.

Harry nodded. "On three?"

The others nodded.

"One… two… three!"

With that, Dean threw the cushion, and Ron a handful of floo powder into the fire.

"Hufflepuff common room!" said Harry clearly, hoping it hadn’t woken anyone up.

The fire blazed bright green for a moment, and then back to it’s normal colour, the flames dancing low.

Everyone was still.

"Is it… gone?" said Seamus eventually.

The four leaned forwards in unison.

"I don’t… see anything," said Harry, squinting into the flames.

"Me neither," said Dean, taking a step back.

"Looks like we did it, then!" Ron exclaimed gleefully.

"Brilliant!" Seamus and Dean cheered.

"Okay, well, now what?" asked Harry, looking around the room again for ideas.

All four boys were silent for a while, each deep in thought.

"I’ve got it!" said Ron suddenly. He turned to Harry, his eyes glinting manically. "Let’s floo Crookshanks."

Harry, Dean and Seamus burst out laughing, but Harry stopped laughing abruptly when he looked more closely at Ron’s face. He was serious.

"What?!" Harry squeaked. "Hermione would kill us!"

"She’d never know it was us," Ron said, his eyes pleading. "Oh, come on Harry. It’ll be a dream come true!"

"Yeah, come on, Harry!" Seamus gave him a playful nudge.

Harry looked down at Crookshanks. The cat had lifted its head up at the sound of his name and was eyeing them suspiciously, as though he knew what they were talking about.

He was rather ugly, Harry thought. And moody. And he really did seem to have something against Ron…

Ron seemed to read his mind. "Remember that time he ate my potions homework and all my spare parchment and my quill, Harry?"

Harry swore he saw Crookshanks smile at this. Harry frowned.

"Don’t you think it at least deserves –"

"Let’s do it," said Harry suddenly, and quickly scooped up the miserable creature from the armchair. He dashed back to join the others in front of the fire and held Crookshanks at arm’s length. The cat was flailing wildly, scratching Harry’s arms to ribbons. "Quick!" he yelped.

This seemed to jolt the others into action. Ron hastily grabbed a handful of floo powder and prepared to throw it into the fire.

"Wait!" Seamus cried suddenly.

"What?!" Harry was looking at him incredulously. Crookshanks was thrashing his limbs even more wildly and Harry struggled to keep hold of the animal.

"The final touch," said Seamus, grinning. He quickly ran over to where Parvati was sprawled out on the floor, and ripped a piece of parchment from the back of her skirt. Dodging the other few students who were scattered about the room, he made his way back to the others and taped the note onto Crookshanks’ tail.

Without even attempting to read what note Seamus had attached, Harry yelled "GO!" and with that, the handful of floo powder and the thrashing cat were hurled into the flames.

"Meeeeeeeooooowwwwww!"

Crookshanks wailed and hissed as he flew through the air into the fire, his eyes glaring with a look that said "you’ll never get away with this."

The fire once again turned momentarily green, and then changed back to normal. Everything was silent except for a faint howling sound coming from the direction Crookshanks had just disappeared from.

"Blimey!" said Ron after a while, wiping sweat from his forehead. "I’ve always wanted to do that."

At that, all four boys burst into hysterics, clutching their stomachs and then collapsing on the floor from laughing so hard.

"Oh – my – goodness!" Seamus gasped. "Did you see – the way it – oh my goodness!"

***

Eventually, the boys’ laughter had died down.

"You do realise Hermione is going to skin us alive when she finds out, don’t you?" said Harry, still grinning.

"Oh, come on Harry, she’ll never know it was us!" chortled Ron. "Some Hufflepuff will bring the wretched thing back tomorrow or something."

"Uhhh… Ron…" said Dean slowly, the smile fading from his face. "I think we – uhh – did we ever say where we were flooing it to?"

Realisation slowly sunk in.

"Oh, Merlin…" said Ron quietly. "Where the hell did it go?"

***

Dumbledore was seated at his desk, rearranging the various objects and contraptions that lay scattered on the polished surface. Snape stood behind him, trying to explain that the reason why Gryffindor were was currently at minus five-hundred points was because the Weasley twins had caused a very large and dangerous explosion in potions the day before, and not because they had called him a "greasy trout-sniffer".

"Severus, I understand that your actions must have felt appropriate – but I do feel that deducting two thousand points for a simple mistake may have been a little… how to put this… unnecessary?"

Snape pursed his lips and opened his mouth to defend himself, when a faint yowling sound coming from the fireplace behind the two Professors rapidly began growing louder by the millisecond.

As both men turned around slowly to face the fire, the flames suddenly flashed bright green, and before either of them could jump out of the way, a large, round, furry mass came soaring out of the fireplace, landing directly on top of Snape’s head.

Crookshanks, his claws out and digging fiercely into Snape’s scalp, clung onto the Professor’s head for dear life. His feline back arched; fur sticking out in all directions; frankly, it looked like a deranged hissing puffer fish.

"Hmm…" said Dumbledore with an amused smile on his face. "I wonder where this little creature came from."

Having gotten over the shock of, well, having a cat on his head, Snape looked absolutely livid. His teeth and fists were clenched so tightly that Dumbledore wondered for a moment whether the man in front of him was about to spontaneously combust.

"GET – IT – OFF – ME!" he snapped in a rather high-pitched voice, his eyes nearly popping out of his skull.

Dumbledore, still smiling, took a step towards the bizarre pair, only to have Crookshanks dig his claws even deeper into the top of Snape’s head and hiss maliciously. The poor animal looked absolutely petrified, and Dumbledore wasn’t surprised – it had just endured a relatively traumatic journey through fire, and then landed on what it probably sees to be a rather knobbly mountain. Seeing a note taped to the cat’s tail, which read, "Spank me if you think I’m sexy", confirmed to Dumbledore that this cat had indeed been manhandled by students.

"NOW, DUMBLEDORE! REMOVE IT NOW!"

At that moment, Crookshanks’ terror had evidently reached its peak. The cat tensed up, and, a moment later Dumbledore heard a soft trickling noise echo faintly in the otherwise silent room. He watched as Snape’s hair dampened considerably, and as Crookshanks’ deposit continued downwards, seeping through Snape’s robes and dripping into his shoes.

Snape’s clenched jaw and fists relaxed; his body slumped, defeated.

"This is not my week," he sulked.

---

Stay tuned for more late-night antics, including false teeth, the Return of the Note, eyeballs, a boring Potions class, and Draco's tolerence and sanity dwindling away into nothingness.

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A/N: A big big thank you goes to Krissy for being a wonderful beta-reader, and even more wonderful friend. Thanks also to Aamba for your very useful comments and suggestions «huggles you both». Ah, yes, I hereby dedicate phoenix poo healing powers to dear Kayla and Audrey *grin*

Summary: In Draco’s opinion, Harry and Ron have just gone TOO FAR this time. Unfortunately for him, his desire to get them back goes a little beyond what he expected…


A/N: This installment’s been a long time coming, and for that I apologise very very much. Thank you SO MUCH for hanging in there. It’s all of you that kept me going! I only hope this lives up to your expectations. Please do leave a review, as I love to hear which bits you like and which bits you think sucked donkey droppings. Plus, I love your suggestions for future chapters (no, I don’t ignore them!!). SUCH BIG THANKS to kbpkrissy. Omg sweetie, I could NOT have done this without you. And massive hugs also go to those of you that have read through this fic at all over the months and been so supportive. *love and hugs* I’d also like to thank my cat, Moppet, for meowing in all the right places, and my milkman for…. *grin* just kidding. On with the show.


Links:
Part 1: Who Let the Fawkes Out
Part 2: Let’s Floo Crookshanks


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Late Night Antics, Part 3:
Dumbledore’s False Teeth


Draco Malfoy was seated, as he always was on Monday mornings, in Snape’s Potions lesson.

"God, this is boring," Draco mumbled more to himself than to his thuggish friends sitting either side of him.

*Flick*

Snape was pacing the front of the class, rambling about what could have been armadillo bile and table legs for all Draco knew. The blonde Slytherin had long since stopped paying attention. However, watching Pansy pick her nose while Blaise grimaced disapprovingly was something Draco would rather not witness either.

*Flick*

‘And look at those perfect Gryffindors, taking notes like such good little students,’ he thought bitterly, scowling at the trio.

*Flick*

He had to hand it to Seamus Finnigan though, who wasn’t only managing to avoid taking notes, but also somehow not staying awake either. Dean Thomas seemed to be enjoying himself shoving the feathery end of his quill up Finnigan’s nose. Draco wiped his own nose instinctively and turned away from the scene.

*Flick*

Suddenly, a crumpled up ball of parchment bounced off the top of Crabbe’s forehead and landed directly in front of Draco. The blond Slytherin looked up and saw Potter and Weasley glaring at him. Smirking, he smoothed out the note and read:

"Stop flicking dragon eyeballs at us, you prat!"

Goyle was already poised with the fifth eyeball, ready to ping it across the room at them the moment Snape’s back was turned. Chairs scraped against the stone floor as everyone stood up and began preparing their ingredients for Balding Potions. Potter stood with everyone else; but Weasley was still glaring fiercely back at him, eyeing the slimy organ balancing on the end of Goyle’s ruler and mouthing, “Don’t you dare.�

Draco raised a mocking eyebrow at the red-head and motioned for Goyle to “ping away�, but Goyle was distractedly talking to Crabbe. Weasley and the Balding Potion were momentarily forgotten as Draco overheard his friends’ discussion.

“I can’t believe what happened on the way to this lesson,� Goyle guffawed.

“Oh yeah,� Crabbe sniggered suddenly, looking over at Draco. “Luna Lovegood slapped his arse!�

He and Goyle promptly burst into fits of laughter. Draco glared at them, his ears turning pink.

“Shut up.�

“She did what?!� squealed a giggling Pansy from the table in front of theirs.

Draco groaned and covered his face with his hands.

“Nobody did anything. Go back to the hole you crawled out of, Parkinson,� he moaned wearily through his fingers.

Pansy ignored him and just as she gleefully turned around to face Crabbe and Goyle properly, the sound of smashing glass made everyone look around eagerly to see who had messed up their potion. Many groaned as Neville stuttered “O-oops…� then proceeded to look guiltily between the fragments of glass scattered around his feet and Snape, who sat at the front of the classroom seemingly engrossed in a book titled, “How to Skin a Cat Using Only a Tuning Fork and a Sock�. Pansy regarded the scene for a second, then shook her head and turned her attention back to the boys just as Snape slammed his book down and swished past them out of the classroom, muttering about other uses for tuning forks.

“So what happened, then?� she whispered eagerly. “Does Draco have an admirer?�

“Oh get laid, Parkinson,� Draco sighed, his words still muffled by the hands over his face. “Yes, Luna is my new admirer. Happy now?�

“But Draco, I only did it because you told me to,� piped a dreamy voice from behind them.

“Gah!� Draco squawked, and swung around to face the newcomer. “Where did you come from?!�

“I came to give you this,� Luna said, holding out a rather scorched piece of parchment.

“But – but you’re not even in this class!� he said, still unable to comprehend how she got there.

“Well I had to come and find you, didn’t I?� she said frankly, and waved the piece of parchment in front of his face.

Draco wondered if this was a very odd dream. He took the parchment.

“‘Spank me if you think I’m sexy’...� he read aloud. “Lovegood, is this your idea of a joke?�

“A joke?� she said, nonplussed. “No. It was on you. This morning. I thought you had it on to raise money for charity or something, so I complied.�

Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle burst out laughing at this.

“And that,� Luna continued, pointing at the piece of parchment in Draco’s hand, “came off in my hand, so I thought you’d want it back.�

Draco stared at her.

“Well... bye, then.� She waved and skipped off out the dungeons.

He continued to stare after her.

“Wha…?�

“Oh Draco, lighten up. You’re starting to sound like one of them!� Pansy said, gesturing towards Crabbe and Goyle.

Draco abruptly snapped out of his dazed stupor when Weasley caught his eye and smirked at him.
“I knew it was them!� he exclaimed suddenly.

“Er – knew what was who, Draco?� Goyle asked, the confused look back on his face.

“This!� Draco said, madly waving around the piece of parchment Luna had handed him. “It was them!�

He pointed to where Potter and Weasley were sitting on the other side of the room. The others followed his gaze and breathed a soft “Ohhhh!� in unison as they understood what Draco meant.

Goyle, seeing this as a good opportunity, set up the last eyeball to flick over at the Gryffindors. Draco was struck by a sudden burst of inspiration and leant over to Goyle, laying a hand over the ruler causing the eyeball to roll off the end and across the table. “Don’t. Not yet,� he murmured.

“Wha-?� Goyle grunted, his forehead wrinkled in confusion.

“Just – wait,� Malfoy hissed impatiently. “Save that last one for later. For dinner, this evening.�
Crabbe and Goyle stared at him with their mouths hanging open. “Oh my god, Malfoy. You’re going to –�

“That’s right,� Draco said smugly, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back in his seat.

“–you’re going to eat the eyeball for dinner?!�

Draco choked and nearly fell out of his seat.

“NO!� he screeched incredulously. Everyone in the room fell silent and turned to look at him. He smiled weakly. “No, Professor Snape! Er – don’t stop making us take notes,� he said in what he hoped was a convincing voice to the professor who’d just marched to the front of the classroom. “G-Granger won’t know what to do with her Mudblood-self if she doesn’t have at least twenty pages written up by the end of the lesson...�

He heard a disgruntled “Hmph!� come from Granger’s direction, but everyone else was still staring at him. Snape narrowed his eyes at Draco suspiciously but said nothing.

“As I was saying,� Snape continued waspishly, “your homework for tonight will be–�

Again, Draco tuned Snape out. He’d bully some first year into doing it for him or something. Glad that everyone was now jotting down their homework instead of looking at him, he turned back to Crabbe and Goyle.

“How could you think that I’d want to – that I’d –� He struggled to find the right words for their bizarre and embarrassing assumption. “Ugh – anyway. No I’m not going to eat it, you idiots. We’re going to get them back for what they did,� he said, jerking his head in the direction of Potter and his friends.

“Uhh...�

Whatever Crabbe and Goyle were trying to do, it looked rather painful. Were they… thinking?

“What did they do?� they said eventually.

“Wh-what do you mean, ‘What did they do?’� Draco was nearly screeching again. He hated it when he screeched. “Don’t you remember? The note on my back?�

Crabbe and Goyle still looked confused. Draco threw his arms up in the air and tried hard not to pound the table in frustration.

“Just now!�

A pause.

“Ohhhh!�

“Finally!� Draco sighed, flopping his head onto the table and not caring that it hurt. “Listen, Goyle,� he said shortly, sitting up straight with a faraway look on his face. “Keep that eyeball safe.�

The blond Slytherin’s eyes suddenly twinkled with a rather maniacal glint. “I will be avenged!�

Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle shot each other nervous glances as Draco’s loud, cackling laughter echoed around the dungeon.

***

After another day’s worth of monotonous note-taking, plant handling, animal-transfiguring and spell-casting, Draco Malfoy and his fellow Slytherin friends made their way into the Great Hall for dinner.

They sauntered past the Hufflepuff table and briefly overheard Justin Finch-Fletchley. “It was a cushion, I swear it! It shot out at me from the fireplace in the common room last night and broke my nose!�

Pansy snorted. “Stupid Hufflepuffs,� she said and carried on walking to the far end of the Slytherin table with the others.

“Gimmie that eyeball, Goyle,� Draco said the second they sat down.

Pansy squealed in disgust as Goyle deposited the dragon's eyeball into the palm of Draco's hand. It was considerably less slimy than earlier, but Draco didn't want to think about it.

Unfortunately Weasley and his friends couldn’t have sat closer to the staff table if they’d tried. Oh well, all the professors seemed to be engrossed in their own conversations tonight and this suited him just fine.

“Uhh... Draco?� Pansy said tentatively. He’d been rather tetchy all day and had kept snapping at them for things like ‘breathing too loudly.’ “What are you doing?�

“It’s all about timing,� he replied simply. He bit down on his tongue, which poked out of his mouth slightly, and closed one eye as though aiming at something.

Pansy and the others watched him carefully and then followed his gaze to once again find him looking towards the Gryffindor table.

Granger had her head, as always, buried in a book whilst trying to spoon soup into her mouth at the same time. Potter and Weasley appeared to be laughing at something the twins had said. The redhead was poised with his glass of pumpkin juice, just about to drink from it, when–

“ARRRRRGGGHHHH!�

The Gryffindors surrounding Weasley leapt up from their seats, staring wide-eyed at the eyeball floating in his pumpkin juice. The Slytherins were positively roaring with laughter at the looks on all their faces.

On impulse, Weasley threw the contents of his glass over his right shoulder. The entire hall held its breath as they watched the eyeball fly through the air in seemingly slow motion towards the teachers table.

It became clear rather quickly where it was going to hit, and was apparent soon after that that nothing could be done to stop it from happening. Draco, feeling half-jubilant and half-terrified at the oncoming fate, was torn between staying put to relish the moment and running away to spend the rest of his life in the Forbidden Forest.

Halfway to the teacher’s table the scene sped up. Too fast… it happened all too fast. The eyeball raced through the air and the CLONK of the organ against Dumbledore’s jaw silenced even the mice scurrying under the tables looking for dropped food.

What hadn’t been expected, however, was for the headmaster’s set of still-chewing teeth to shoot out of his mouth and land on the floor in front of the table. Most of the students and teachers, excluding Dumbledore, craned their necks to see the now motionless dentures as though expecting something to happen. Others stared at Dumbledore in trepidation, waiting for him to either storm out the room, explode, or burst out laughing. However, Dumbledore’s face revealed no emotions. He gazed calmly straight ahead while everyone continued to hold their breath.

Draco began creeping silently toward the entrance, convinced that Weasley’s expression had been well-worth the trouble, yet still not too keen on being labelled as the culprit if he could help it.

Without warning, the teeth began chattering wildly. Students jumped out of the way as they began bumping along the wooden floor, but the teeth’s intentions were clear. They were making their way to the far end of the teacher’s table. Ron Weasley stared at them, gob smacked as they bounced past the Gryffindor table.

‘Definitely worth it,’ Draco smirked.

Filch sat perplexed on the end of the long table as the teeth approached. Oddly enough it seemed as though all the teachers were transfixed in their seats. The teeth were fast, Draco mused, but it was easy enough to get out their way. He sidled his way to the door, wanting to observe the antics of the teeth before someone stopped them, yet was ready to run just in case.

With a momentary pause at Filch’s feet, they leapt up into the caretaker’s pocket. Filch sprang to his feet and shook his tattered coat. Tiny chewed up bits of parchment flew from his pocket while he desperately tried to shake his coat off. Laughter rang out in the Great Hall.

“My list!� he screeched. “My precious list!!�

The parchment containing the hundreds of items Filch had banned from the students was in ruins, and the students cheered loudly.

A few moments later, the teeth fell out of the filthy pocket and onto the floor just as Filch threw his coat to the ground, stamping on it madly. The teeth continued their way around the table.

Off they went, nipping at Flitwick’s toes, causing him to leap into an odd flailing tap dance, then springing up high into the air only to land on Professor Sprout’s head and knock her hat off. The cheering students were once again stunned into silence as they saw that what covered Sprout’s head wasn’t a mass of uncontrollable brown hair, but a pair of bright pink knickers with “Snape is my Dream Boat� spelled out in sparkling green sequins.

The silence didn’t prevail, however, as the Hall burst out into a mixture of whoops and cheers, and gasps of repugnance. With the entire Hall (bar Dumbledore) in uproar, the blushing Professor Sprout hastily crammed her hat back on her head – the teeth having already hopped off and began making their way further along the teacher’s table. Snape, who had more colour in his cheeks than anyone had ever seen before, had retrieved his wand and begun shooting red sparks at the dentures. Oddly enough, the teeth either had very small eyes or a lot of intuition, as they dodged every single spell Snape threw at them.

One spell hit Hagrid, whose teeth immediately disintegrated.

“My peef! My peef!� he cried, running around in circles.

Draco was absolutely beside himself. Clutching his stomach and having to lean against the large doors to keep himself upright, having completely disregarded the idea of making any kind of escape.

Still chattering madly, the teeth waltzed past Trelawney, who jumped backwards into the chair she’d been sitting in and toppled onto an unsuspecting house elf that had been shrieking and running past behind her.

“Albus, stop this at once!� screeched McGonagall, whose robes were being unravelled from the bottom up as the teeth bounced off holding a long – and getting longer – piece of thread. Dumbledore, however, remained seated, his eyes looking slightly amused yet glazed over.

Still holding the thread, the dentures began to make their way down the length of the Great Hall. Some students simply jumped out their way with weary expressions, while others ran screaming.

Along they went, making their way towards the door. Draco, who was still laughing so hard that tears were streaming down his bright red face, hadn’t noticed the teeth’s latest move, despite the fact that everyone’s head were now turned in his direction.

Without warning, the teeth let go of the thread from McGonagall’s robes and with one big leap, jumped up and clamped down on Draco’s nose.

Utterly flabbergasted, Draco’s body became rigid, and he looked down at his nose with wide, fearful eyes. Completely aware that every single person in the school was now laughing at him, he could manage nothing but a squeak.

“ALBUS!!� McGonagall yelled once more whilst trying to cover her bony knees with a plate.

“Don’ worry, Probbepper!� Hagrid shouted as he thundered towards Draco.

Draco’s eyes widened even further as Hagrid approached him and tried to pry the stubborn teeth from his nose. His eyes were watering for a very different reason now, and the other students in the Hall, particularly the Gryffindors, Draco noted with scorn, were roaring with laughter at the scene before them
“Get them off me!!� he squealed pathetically. “Get them o– �

Before he could finish, he realised with astonishment that his nose was free. The teeth were gone! He felt suddenly light-headed and looked up at Hagrid with teary eyes, about two seconds away from wrapping his arms around the big oaf – anything to express his pure, undying happiness. As he took a step forward, Hagrid’s beard twitched.

Draco frowned, and leaned tentatively forwards to peer at the dark, wiry mass.

It twitched again.

Draco gasped loudly and before anyone could stop him, he threw open the large doors and pelted out of the Hall. With another twitch of Hagrid’s beard, Draco was soon being chased by Dumbledore’s false teeth, now with bits of dark hair wedged between each tooth with a few long strands trailing behind them.

Needless to say, the laughter that rang out in the Great Hall didn’t die down for quite a while.


Fin.