A/N: J.K. Rowling owns the HP characters and locations except the new DADA teacher, who I created for this fic. Also note that this fic is one of the dreaded chapter fics. That is to say, the plot changes every chapter, though all the chapters are connected. If you don’t like this randomness, then why are you in the humor section?

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Breakfast had ended at Hogwarts and students were filing off to their first classes of the day. With this, we find our three protagonists, Harry, Ron and Hermione, heading down the stairs to the dungeons.

“Double Potions!” Ron complained loudly. “Why did we have to get double Potions for our first class on a Monday?! I didn’t think it was possible to ruin Mondays even further.”

“Look on the bright side, Ron,” Hermione said.

“I don’t think there is a bright side to this,” Harry replied. “Potions are still with Slytherins. And the potions themselves keep getting harder and harder to make. I think you’ll be the only one who can actually keep up this year, Hermione.”

“Don’t be silly, there are loads of other students who’re good at Potions.”

“Yeah, they’re all in Slytherin,” countered Ron. “Snape wouldn’t grade them down if they spit in their cauldrons and turned that in.”

“Oh come on, he’s not that lenient,” said Hermione.

“Yes he is. If he were actually a fair teacher, half the class would still be in third year. And Gryffindor would get points for all the questions you answer.”

“I don’t answer that many questions. Snape doesn’t even ask that many.”

“True, but when he does, bang, your hand’s in the air fast as lightning.”

“Give it a rest, Ron.”

“No, it’s true. I swear, with as often as you raise your hand, it’ll get stuck some day.”

Hermione opened her mouth to argue back, but just then Snape appeared at the door and ushered the students into the classroom. The Potions classroom was as cold and clammy, dark and dreary as ever, even more so first thing in the morning on a Monday. Harry, Ron and Hermione took their usual seats in the back of the room, as far from their disagreeable teacher as they could get. The ingredients list and directions appeared on the board, and the students set to work. After what seemed like an eternity, the class was finally about to end. Everyone had cleaned their spaces and was waiting for the bell to ring.

“A quick question about this potion,” Snape said while the students waited. “Who can tell me what unusual properties it has?”

Naturally, Hermione’s hand went straight into the air. Snape looked around, ignoring her.

“Anyone?” he asked. “Potter?”

Harry just committed himself to shrugging. Snape smirked evilly and shook his head. “Well, I guess you’ll have to learn. I want a foot on this potion’s properties, to be handed in tomorrow.”

There was a collective groan from the class and Ron exclaimed, “A foot?!”

Snape gave Ron a “you’re questioning me?” look and amended, “A foot and a half. And ten points from Gryffindor.” Everyone glared at Ron. “What?” Snape asked.

Ron looked confused. Then he realized that Snape was talking to Hermione, whose hand was still raised.

“Do you have a question?” said Snape.

“No,” Hermione answered.

“Then put your hand down.”

“I can’t.”

Snape blinked. “What?”

“I can’t put my hand down.”

The look on Snape’s face had changed from one of disdain to curiosity. He went to the back table where Hermione sat and looked closely at her arm, still above her head. He pushed it a little, and it moved, but swayed back to where it was. He pulled it down like the arm of a slot machine so Hermione’s hand was on the table, and let go. It moved back into its previous upright position.

“You really can’t put it down?” Snape asked.

“No, sir.”

“Hmm.” He walked back to the front of the room and sat behind his desk.

“Um, sir?” Hermione began tentatively. “Isn’t there anything we can do about this?”

Snape shrugged. “Deal with it.”

“But-“

“I really doubt anyone will notice a difference,” A nasty grin spread on his thin face.

Hermione tried to argue back, but the bell rang as she opened her mouth. Still fuming, the trio left the dungeon and headed back upstairs.

“I cannot believe him!” Ron shouted. “What right does he have to shrug you off like that?”

“Just drop it,” said Hermione.

“So, you really can’t put your hand down?” Harry asked.

“Yes! I wasn’t joking.”

“Maybe you should go to the hospital wing,” suggested Ron.

So they went to the hospital wing. Unfortunately, after a few tests like Snape’s, Madam Pomfrey couldn’t figure out what was wrong and merely suggested having Ron or Harry hold down Hermione’s arm, if it bothered her to have it in the air. Slightly dejected, they went to the Great Hall for lunch.

“Um, got a problem?” Ginny asked as Ron leaned on his elbow, which had Hermione’s hand firmly under it.

“What? No! Everything’s fine. Just fine,” Ron replied.

Ginny looked skeptical. Harry leaned over and whispered, “Hermione raised her hand to answer a question in Potions, and it stayed like that. So Ron’s holding her arm down for her.”

“Weird. What made her hand do that?” said Ginny.

“I haven’t a clue. But we saw Madam Pomfrey, and she doesn’t know what it is.”

“Maybe you should see Dumbledore.”

“I don’t want to bother him with something like this,” said Hermione.

“Well, we’ve got Defense Against the Dark Arts next. Maybe our new professor can help,” suggested Ron.

As soon as lunch ended, Harry, Ron and Hermione hurried upstairs to the classroom. They were the first students to arrive, but found their professor already sitting behind his desk. The new teacher was named Professor Arbitrare. He was a tall, wiry man with blonde hair and glasses rather like himself: gold wire frames. He also seemed to be deciding if he wanted to grow a beard, because he would occasionally have an unshaven patch on his chin. But this story isn’t about how he looks, is it?

“Uh, Professor?” said Harry as they entered the room.

“Ah, Mr. Potter! What can I do for you?”

“Well, it’s actually what you can do for Hermione. You see…” Harry motioned to Ron, who let go of Hermione’s wrist and nearly got smacked in the face as her hand went up yet again.

“Wow. Neat trick, but what’s your point?”

“She can’t put her hand down,” said Harry.

“But we can,” added Ron.

“Hmm,” said Professor Arbitrare, getting up and walking over. “Hmm, hmm. Well, let’s think here. Hermione, can you move your fingers?”

“I think so,” she said, wiggling them.

“Hmm. Can you get me that jar over on that shelf?”

Hermione went and got the jar, which was now above her head.

“Thanks,” said Professor Arbitrare. He took the jar, opened it and started eating Every-Flavor Beans.

“So what’s wrong?” asked Ron.

Professor Arbitrare shrugged. “I have no idea.”

“Isn’t there anything we can do?”

“Sure.” The professor went and rummaged through his desk drawers for a minute, then returned with a roll of duct tape. “This’ll keep your arm in place for the time being.”

The rest of the class was just starting to arrive when Hermione’s arm was successfully taped down. She, Harry and Ron went and took their seats and tried to act casual, which is difficult to do when one’s arm is taped to one’s side.

“Something just occurred to me,” said Professor Arbitrare, coming over to the trio. “Hermione, did anyone say anything unusual to you today? Anything about having your arm like it was?”

“Yeah, Ron was joking earlier and said I raise my hand so much, it might get stuck.”

“I see.” He went to the front of the room. “Attention class! I am going to the headmaster’s office for a minute, try to not destroy anything while I’m out.”

Everyone was extremely confused as their teacher strode out of the classroom. He returned shortly, however, and the rest of the lesson was rather enjoyable. The rest of the classes passed, and soon it was time for dinner. Dinner passed uneventfully, and everyone was almost done eating when Dumbledore stood up.

“I would like to make, a rather…unusual announcement,” he said. “It has recently come to my attention that a student made a particularly harmless comment, but it wasn’t so harmless and affected another student. This is not an ordinary case of bullying or anything so simple. I’m afraid that the castle has come under…the Power of Suggestion!”

There was a huge clatter as almost everyone dropped their forks and gasped.

“Now, no one should panic,” Dumbledore continued. “The Power of Suggestion is difficult to understand, but if we lose our heads, it will only make things worse. For our students who aren’t familiar with this phenomenon, let me explain.

"The Power of Suggestion is a spell that turns our words into deeds. If someone were to say, ‘Mrs. Norris should spit fire,’ they just might find it happening. This spell is unpredictable. You can’t know when it will strike, or when someone will have an umbrella for a head. I would therefore advise extreme caution when speaking to anyone, even yourself.”

He sat back down, and the Hall erupted into a flurry of chatter, accompanied by the sound of Filch’s cat burning the end of the High Table, and a fwump as a third-year Hufflepuff’s head opened.

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A/N: Go to dictionary.com and type in Arbitrare. You’ll see why I called him that. Not that funny yet? Well, quit whining. Just you wait; my brother helped me with ideas for later chapters, so we’re assured hilarity. And reader suggestions are always appreciated. *coughreviewcough*
And as promised, here's the prewiew of Chapter 2!

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Chapter 2: Creepy Creatures and Walking Plants

The day after Dumbledore’s announcement, the students at Hogwarts were no less talkative than usual. The unfortunate result of this carelessness was a large amount people with horns or antlers. Other students had turned strange shades of purple, some would burst into song or swear loudly when class got to boring (History of Magic was now much more popular), while still others had very grotesque problems. One Ravenclaw had his finger stuck up his nose, and a Slytherin kept falling over after having misplaced his shins.

People weren’t the only ones affected by the power of suggestion. The castle itself had several problems. Doors would fall on students, there was a new staircase that never ended, a hallway on the fifth floor had eaten several people, and there would be random explosions with no cause throughout the school.

Through all the mayhem, the trio was remarkably unscathed (except for Hermione, of course), solely for the purpose of the plot. Readers needn’t worry, Harry and Ron will encounter their fair share of trouble soon enough.

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So what do you think? Please review and give me more ideas!!

A/N: If you’ve ever been to homestarrunner.com and played Peasant’s Quest, you’ll know who the Kerrek is. If not, it won’t be hard to find out. The aforementioned website is where I got the Kerrek from. The idea to put him in this story was my brother’s idea. So it’s all his fault.

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The day after Dumbledore’s announcement, the students at Hogwarts were no less talkative than usual. The unfortunate result of this carelessness was a large amount people with horns or antlers. Other students had turned strange shades of purple, some would burst into song or swear loudly when class got to boring (History of Magic was now much more popular), while still others had very grotesque problems. One Ravenclaw had his finger stuck up his nose, and a Slytherin kept falling over after having misplaced his shins.

People weren’t the only ones affected by the power of suggestion. The castle itself had several problems. Doors would fall on students, there was a new staircase that never ended, a hallway on the fifth floor had eaten several people, and there would be random explosions with no cause throughout the school.

Through all the mayhem, the trio was remarkably unscathed (except for Hermione, of course), solely for the purpose of the plot. Readers needn’t worry, Harry and Ron will encounter their fair share of trouble soon enough.

Anyway, to the story.

Tuesday found our heroes walking across the dewy lawns under a steely grey sky to Hagrid’s hut for Care of Magical Creatures class. Hagrid’s unfortunate affinity towards large dangerous creatures always kept the class on its toes, and today was no exception. As the class approached Hagrid’s hut, an unpleasant odor wafted over from the forest. The students tried to figure out what the smell was without breathing in too deeply when they were distracted by mooing from the pumpkin patch. Before anyone could get any more confused, Hagrid appeared from between the trees, carrying the obnoxious smell with him. He seemed quite excited, which is never a good thing.

“Righ’,” he said. “The firs’ part o’ the lesson’s in the forest, so follow me.”

The class walked into the forest after Hagrid’s massive frame. They hadn’t gone far when they came to a small clearing and almost immediately passed out from the stench. Really the only way to describe the smell was “medieval peasant.” The only way to describe the sight was “AUGH!”

It was probably as tall as Hagrid. It had a head like a boar. There was little color variance between the muddy brown of its boots and loincloth and the muddy pink of its skin. It did have a very shiny belt that seemed to be most of what smelled.

What it was, none of the class knew. Most of them couldn’t see properly anyway because their eyes were watering. And the girl who had passed out couldn’t see it either, or the guy throwing up in the bushes. But the part of the class that had been smart enough to try and filter the smell (to little avail) through their robes, were lost.

“Hagrid,” Hermione choked. “What is that?”

“This is a kerrek,” Hagrid announced proudly. None of the class seemed interested in the thing, but more in trying to find an escape route.

“So, kerreks,” Hagrid tried to continue, “are teetotalers, so don’ offer ‘em a drink or they’ll run twice as fast at yeh.”

“Um, Hagrid?” Harry said. He pointed at the growing number of students growing sick or passing out.

“Oh. Uh, well, I guess we’ll move on then. Back to the pumpkin patch then.”

The class left the forest, dragging some of their numbers, and breathing in the air like it was a precious commodity. They made their way to the back of Hagrid’s hut where the pumpkins he annually grew were getting enormous. Tied to a stake in the midst of the orange behemoths was a cow. The only remarkable thing about it was that one of its horns was pointed up while the other was pointed down.

“Whaddaya think?” Hagrid asked as he came up behind the class.

“What do we think about what?” said Ron.

“Aren’ yeh impressed? It’s a Crumple Horn Snorkack! Very rare, these.”

“A Crumple Horn Snorkack?” Hermione asked incredulously.

“Yep, fresh caught from Sweden.”

There was a pause.

“Hagrid, that’s a cow.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes it is,” said Harry. “It’s a cow.”

“No it isn’!” insisted Hagrid.

“Yes it is!” said Ron. “It’s a cow. With horns and milk and goes ‘moo.’” He put his fingers up next to his head to represent horns.

“Now who’s the teacher here?!” Hagrid said indignantly. “It’s a Crumple Horn Snorkack; they’ve got amazin’ powers!”

The class looked at the cow, er, Crumple Horn Snorkack. It looked back. Suddenly, it shot laser beams from its eyes, vaporizing Harry!

Only joking, that’s Voldy’s job. The cow just mooed. Thankfully, before the class got any more idiotic, the bell rang.

The trio went to the greenhouses, since their next class was Herbology. When they got there, though, there were already some of the Hufflepuffs from the class looking at a sign on the door. It said, “Herbology has been cancelled for today.”

“Why’s it cancelled?” Harry asked.

“I heard the Venomous Tentacula grew legs and walked right out of the greenhouse!” said Ernie Macmillan. “But not before destroying several turnip beds. It was seen last going right through the front doors of the castle. Wouldn’t it be great if Mrs. Norris found it and they finished each other off?”

“Yeah, a fire-breathing cat and a homicidal walking plant. That would be great,” said Ron. Hermione elbowed him in the ribs.

Despite all the previous oddities, the rest of the trio’s classes passed uneventfully. In fact, aside from a few show tunes during History of Magic and someone fighting with a tapestry, nothing happened until dinner was almost over.

Everyone was in the Great Hall, and basically done eating. The hall was filled with the low hum of conversation when from the Entrance Hall came the loudest cat screech anyone had ever heard. Naturally, the whole school jumped up and ran to see what was happening.

There was a large circle in the middle of the crowd, large enough for a feline and a ficus to brawl. This, of course, was what was happening. Sure enough, Mrs. Norris and the Venomous Tentacula had found each other and were circling slowly. The Tentacula had found boxing gloves and was hopping around like an inexperienced fighter. Mrs. Norris was moving slowly, tail twitching.

On one end of the circle of people, Professor Arbitrare was taking bets. On the other side, Mrs. Norris had paused in front of Snape to size up her opponent. Snape, after a discreet glance, took the opportunity and nudged the cat with his foot. Mrs. Norris, taken off guard, stumbled slightly, giving the Tentacula time to spring. It wrapped itself around the tabby and began punching. Mrs. Norris breathed fire at the plant, but kept missing.

“We’ve got to do something!” shouted Hermione over the crowd. “There’s got to be some way to resolve this!”

“I’m not getting in there!” Ron shouted back.

Then, an answer to Hermione’s plea came through the front doors. The cow/Crumple Horn Snorkack came sauntering into the Entrance Hall. It wandered up to the fighters, who had split apart, and ate the Venomous Tentacula. As an afterthought, it ate Mrs. Norris, too. It then mooed once more and went back outside. Filch grabbed a knife from somewhere and chased after it, screaming about cats and steaks.

“This week keeps getting weirder and weirder,” said Harry.

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A/N: Yay! Chappie 2 is done! Show your appreciation by reviewing! I’m always open to funny ideas! I also think I’ve broken some internet law about using too many exclamation points!

Also: I've got a preview of chappie 3 coming...now! I already submitted it, so here goes:

Chapter 3: Repetitive noise is a form of torture

“Queen to E-3,” said Ron. He and Harry had started up a game of chess when they returned to the common room after the cow fiasco. Ron was, as usual, beating Harry quite soundly.

“How can you be so relaxed at a time like this?” Hermione asked, fiddling absent-mindedly with the tape on her arm.

“A time like what?” said Ron. He looked at his watch. “It’s only 8:15.”

“It’s not that, it’s everything that’s been happening these last couple of days. Doesn’t this seem weird to you?”

“Hermione,” Harry said as he examined the board, “everything in this school is weird. Ron’s right, we shouldn’t worry.”

“When did I say that?” interjected Ron.

“You didn’t, I just inferred it from your off-handed comment.”

“It wasn’t off-handed, I was being truthful. It’s about a quarter after eight.”

“No,” said Hermione, “you’re both being stupid and far too casual about all this. I’m going to the library.” And she stalked out of the common room.

“What’s her problem now?” asked Harry.

“I dunno,” said Ron, nudging his knight forward. “Checkmate.”

“Not again.”

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OK, so that's not that funny, but it does set up some further tension in the story. Quite a few characters are on edge in chappie 3, but it does yield hilarity. Lots of gurgling.

“Queen to E-3,” said Ron. He and Harry had started up a game of chess when they returned to the common room after the cow fiasco. Ron was, as usual, beating Harry quite soundly.

“How can you be so relaxed at a time like this?” Hermione asked, fiddling absent-mindedly with the tape on her arm.

“A time like what?” said Ron. He looked at his watch. “It’s only 8:15.”

“It’s not that, it’s everything that’s been happening these last couple of days. Doesn’t this seem weird to you?”

“Hermione,” Harry said as he examined the board, “everything in this school is weird. Ron’s right, we shouldn’t worry.”

“When did I say that?” interjected Ron.

“You didn’t, I just inferred it from your off-handed comment.”

“It wasn’t off-handed, I was being truthful. It’s about a quarter after eight.”

“No,” said Hermione, “you’re both being stupid and far too casual about all this. I’m going to the library.” And she stalked out of the common room.

“What’s her problem now?” asked Harry.

“I dunno,” said Ron, nudging his knight forward. “Checkmate.”

“Not again.”

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As it turned out, Hermione definitely had something on her mind. She went to the library when she had any spare time and it seemed she was trying to read half of it by the end of the month. She could always be found behind an obscuring pile of books in the common room at night. Well, a larger pile than usual.

“I wonder what she’s up to,” said Ron Sunday evening. Hermione had tossed aside a particularly large volume, picked up an even larger one and started flipping through it.

“Do you think this has anything to do with that Power of Suggestion thing?” asked Harry.

“Well, obviously. She’s the first one it affected.”

“I wonder what she’s found so far.”

“Probably not a whole lot,” Ron commented. “I’ve heard it’s a very tricky spell; you never know when it’ll kick in or what it’ll do.”

“So I could say Snape’ll get something stuck in his ear and Dumbledore waltzes down the halls and nothing could happen,” said Harry.

“Or everything could happen. Which could be funny.”

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Monday morning dawned, and all too soon breakfast had ended and the students were going off to their first class of the day. The trio headed down the stairs to the dungeons for Potions, Ron grumbling all the way. They arrived in the cold, damp classroom and took their usual seats at the back.

“Hey…”said Ron. “Doesn’t Snape usually let us in the room?”

“You’re right,” said Harry. “I guess he just left the door open.”

“Well, he’s running late,” said Hermione.

“Maybe something fell on him,” Ron muttered to Harry.

“Hope it was heavy,” Harry muttered back and they burst into a fit of half-stifled snickering.

Hermione was about to tell them off when the door was thrown open and Snape stormed in. He was obviously in a worse mood than he normally was. The class fell silent at once. Snape reached the front of the room and turned around sharply.

At first, Harry thought that Snape’s oily hair was getting a touch out of control. But what Harry had thought was hair was actually a pair of cords, one running from each ear. They eventually met and ran into Snape’s pocket. It was obvious that he was trying (rather futilely) to hide this. It was also obvious that Harry wasn’t the only person who had noticed it. Some of the class was trying to suppress looks of confusion, while others tried to suppress laughter.

Snape glowered at the students. “We will be continuing our work from last time. You’d better know what to do.” He waved his wand and the cabinets opened and the instructions appeared on the board. He then sat down heavily behind his desk and scowled some more.

“What do you think his problem is?” Ron asked after they’d gotten their ingredients. Harry stifled a laugh and Hermione smiled.

“He’s wearing headphones,” she explained. “Snape must not be a big fan of music.” At the puzzled look on Ron’s face, she sighed and continued, “See that thing on his desk?” Snape had just produced a round, flat object from his pocket and was prodding it with his wand. “That’s a CD player. Wonder why it works here, though.”

“Why wouldn’t it?” said Ron.

“It’s a Muggle electronic. I’ve told you at least forty times, they don’t work at Hogwarts.”

“So what’re headphones?”

“They go over your ears so only you hear the music.”

“Okay, so why doesn’t he take them off?”

“I don’t think he can,” said Harry. Ron and Hermione looked round at him. “Remember what I said last night, Ron? About Snape getting something stuck in his ear?”

“Oh yeah…and something about Dumbledore waltzing.”

“Harry!” Hermione admonished. “You know how dangerous that was; I swear you two can be so thick sometimes!” She turned to her cauldron and didn’t say another word for the rest of the class.

Hermione’s stony silence continued through lunch. She finished early and left for Defense Against the Dark Arts while Harry and Ron were still eating.

“What do you reckon her problem is lately?” asked Ron through a mouthful of turkey sandwich.

“Don’t know, nor do I think she’ll tell us,” replied Harry.

They soon finished lunch and headed after Hermione to class. When they reached the hallway outside the classroom door, they saw Hermione there waiting. Rather than the chilly greeting Harry and Ron expected, Hermione seemed to be anxious for them to arrive. They met her at the door, and she whispered “Listen!”

Ron and Harry listened. There were voices that were luckily speaking loud enough for them to hear, as the voices were talking over loud music.

“It’s been stuck on that one for the last hour, it’s driving me insane!” yelled someone. It sounded like Snape.

“Well, I don’t know how to work it!” sounded another voice. It sounded like Professor Arbitrare.

“I hate to interrupt, but I am getting tired of this one,” called out the last voice. It sounded like Dumbledore, only bouncing up and down.

“Um, maybe this thing?” said Arbitrare. The music got massively louder. “Oops, guess not.”

The trio, being entirely too curious for their own good, opened the door to a very strange sight.

Snape had unplugged his headphones from the CD player, which was in Professor Arbitrare’s hands. It was currently playing “Yellow Submarine” at far too high a decibel level to maintain hearing or sanity. Dumbledore was doing a kind of jig in time with the music. They all turned when the trio entered the room.

“Wonderful,” sneered Snape. “Just who we needed to show up.” He turned back to Professor Arbitrare. “Give me that!” He snatched up the CD player and threw it as hard as he could against the wall. Far from wrecking it, the sudden jolt just made it skip the track to a hip-hop mix.

“Oh dear,” muttered Dumbledore, who started to dance to this song now.

“We’ve got to stop that thing!” Snape shouted.

“I’m open to suggestions!” yelled back Arbitrare.

“Maybe you should look at it!” called out Ron.

“Stay out of this, Weasley!”

“Hey, at least he’s trying to help, instead of complaining!”

“Alright, that does it!” Snape took the cord from his headphones, which was now hanging freely, and started to choke Professor Arbitrare with it.

“Glllggggghhhh!”

“Gentlemen, please!” shouted Dumbledore, who had starting spinning on the floor in a furious break-dance.

“Gaaaaagggggggghhhhhhhh!”

“Oh, honestly!” exclaimed Hermione. She went to where Snape threw the CD player.

“Guuuuuurrrrmmpphhlllll!”

“You know, I think Hermione’s got it figured out!” announced Harry.

“Guuuuuullllllluulll!”

The music suddenly stopped. Everyone in the room also stopped: Dumbledore halfway through a spin, Snape pulling on the cord around Professor Arbitrare’s throat, Arbitrare pulling back, and Harry and Ron just standing there. They all looked at Hermione. She was holding the CD player, which finally had fallen silent.

“What did you do, Hermione?” Ron asked.

She shrugged. “I hit stop.”

Everyone else blinked. Then Snape dropped Professor Arbitrare to the floor, swept over to Hermione, took the CD player out of her hands and put it back into his pocket as he moved toward the door. He stopped at the entryway. “Five points from Gryffindor for not thinking of that sooner.” And he left the room.

Dumbledore, meanwhile, was getting up and brushing the dust from his robes. “Well, that was invigorating.” Professor Arbitrare, on the floor gasping for air, waved his hand slightly. “Yes, you’re absolutely right, Professor. Ten points to Gryffindor for ending all that.” Dumbledore paused a moment in his self dusting.

“I do believe I need a drink,” he said, and exited the classroom.

---

As always, keep reviewing! More ideas are always welcome.

Imaginative insanity knows no bounds. Particularly mine. Example: I was in London the other day having pie, when I was actually in the U.S. Freaky.

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Chappie 4 Preview! Aren't you lucky?

CHAPTER 4: Knights of the Wrong Table

“Why can’t one day be normal around here?” Harry asked grumpily as the trio headed back to the common room after dinner. Harry was asking grumpily because a rampant flock of pelicans had tied to impale him. He’d only managed to avoid them by ducking behind a large box of light bulbs.

“This is Hogwarts, mate,” said Ron, brushing filaments and glass off of his robes. “Nothing’s ever normal here.”

**************

So there's the preview. Short I know, but that's as far as I am. I know, I know, for shame. But I've been busy, and um...yeah. So deal. The rest will soon follow.

A/N: So, after two months of waiting, here’s a new chapter! I’m sorry for the delay, and I’m also sorry if it seems a bit stupid, but I finished this at about 11 at night.

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“Why can’t one day be normal around here?” Harry asked grumpily as he, Ron and Hermione headed back to the common room after dinner. Harry was asking grumpily because a rampant flock of pelicans had tied to impale him. He’d only managed to avoid them by ducking behind a large box of light bulbs.

“This is Hogwarts, mate,” said Ron, brushing filaments and glass off of his robes. “Nothing’s ever normal here.” They were silent for a moment, then Ron asked, “So, what do you guys think’ll happen next?”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked.

“With this suggestion-thingy, what crazy stuff do you think is gonna happen next?”

“Ron, that’s a terrible thing to say!” Hermione admonished. “We should be trying to stop this, not encouraging it to continue!”

“You’re just upset because you’re the first one it got, I think it’s funny.”

“It is not funny, Ron!”

“Give it a rest, will you?” said Harry.

They were now about to turn into the Fat Lady’s corridor, passing a suit of armor, when Harry suddenly fell flat on his face.

“Harry, are you all right?” questioned Hermione.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied, brushing himself off. He looked over his shoulder and said, “I think that suit of armor tripped me.”

Ron and Hermione turned to look at the armor too. It was obviously trying its best to appear nonchalant, gazing in the opposite direction and whistling creakily. Harry stormed over and kicked it in its metal shin out of temper. Then, out of equal temper, the armor swung the axe it was holding at Harry’s head. Harry just managed to duck out of the way. The armor pulled its axe back, trying to get another attack off. Harry took off, Ron and Hermione on his heels, and they ran as fast as they could toward the Fat Lady’s portrait. The armor was in hot pursuit, squeaking menacingly and swinging its axe wildly. They barely managed to jump in the common before the suit of armor crashed into the wall behind them, just missing the Fat Lady.

The three got shakily to their feet and glanced at the back of the Fat Lady’s picture, behind which the sounds of the armor clinking away could be heard. They then turned to see the entire common room staring at them.

“Um, all right there?” asked Ginny.

“Oh yeah, just a crazy suit of armor,” said Ron in a would-be-casual voice.

---

The next day found our heroes in a long and sunlit passageway on the seventh floor.

“What are we doing here?” Ron asked. “This way usually takes us to Trelawney’s room.”

“Plot device,” said a painting of a wizard with a thick moustache.

“Yeah, well, I’m going to lunch. You two coming?”

Harry shrugged. “Better than just standing around here, I guess.”

They started back downstairs to the Great Hall. Ron, who was in the lead, got around a corner before he ran into someone. He muttered an “excuse me” and continued on with the other two.

“Stand and fight, scurvy dogs!” yelled the someone.

“Oh no,” muttered Harry as they looked back around.

Sir Cadogan, the crazed knight who usually was in a painting in this particular hallway, was instead standing in the middle of the corridor, life sized but, actually, no more intimidating than usual.

“I said, stand and fight!”

“And I said I’m going to lunch,” countered Ron. “We really don’t have time to fight.”

“Coward! A knight does not run from battle!”

“Wait…” said Harry. “I have someone you can fight.”

“Really?” said the knight eagerly. “Where is this knave?”

“He’s the suit of armor by the Fat Lady’s corridor. He tried to chop my head off yesterday.”

“The dastardly villain! I shall defeat him soundly!” And he ran off down the hall, sword drawn.

“That’s one way to take care of a problem,” said Hermione.

---

The trio was heading back to the Gryffindor common room after lunch when they ran into Professor Arbitrare.

“Hello trio,” he said. “Say, did you guys sic Sir Cadogan on that suit of armor upstairs?”

“Um…well…” Harry started.

“Well, I’m just wondering because I think the armor all around the school started a revolt and are attacking just about anyone.”

“No!” said Hermione, looking horrified.

“Oh yeah. I think their ringleader’s that tall one with the axe. He’s been asking around for you three, you know.” There was a slight pause. “Well, see ya!” He walked back down the hall.

When he was out of sight, Hermione rounded on Ron. “See? We’ve got to do something about this!”

“Don’t blame me, Harry told him to go after the armor!”

“Don’t drag me into this,” Harry warned.

“Oh come on, let’s just find that suit of armor,” said Hermione.

“He’s just off the Charms corridor,” said Arbitrare, as he had just doubled back down the hallway. “Er, haven’t I been here before?”

---

Not too much later, Harry, Ron and Hermione were at the Charms corridor, passing a pair of suits of armor rolling Snape up in a large rug. They continued on and saw the lead armor laughing through its visor at Snape’s predicament. It stopped at the sight of Harry, however, and picked up its axe.

At the same time, Sir Cadogan came charging down the hall at the axe-wielder, tripped over Snape and went sliding, stopping in between Harry and the armor.

“Wait, haven’t you already fought him?” asked Harry.

“I was going to, but he moved,” said Sir Cadogan. He got to his feet, sized up his enemy, then declared, “I need a mount!”

The clip clop of hooves was heard, then the Crumple Horned Snorkack came into sight. It cantered up to Sir Cadogan, then mooed. Everyone stared at it for a minute.

“A steed is a steed!” yelled Cadogan, and hopped on. His ride walked up to the suit of armor and pushed it with a well-placed horn. The armor waved its arms like pinwheels, then fell with a resounding crash to the floor. The Snorkack then stood on top of it and proceeded to eat its helmet.

“That cow’ll eat anything,” said Ron incredulously.

---

Yay! Chappie 4! So, now that it's here, show your appreciation by reviewing! Everyone loves a good review!

A/N: Yes, another chappie is here! I’m terribly sorry that this one took so long too, but at least this wait wasn’t as long as the one for the last chapter.

On a side note, the couch in this chapter was inspired by a couch once owned by my family, but we got rid of it (but not before I got a few pics of it), as it really was hideous and falling apart.

I would also like to put in a shameless plug for Legendary Frog’s Flash animations, from which some of my inspiration for this chapter came. Another shameless plug: This chappie is sponsored by the music of the Killers (the now official music of chappie 5), whom I was listening to while I wrote this. That might explain something.

---

After dinner, and fighting through the crowds in the common room demanding a retelling of exactly how a cow could eat a helmet, Harry, Ron and Hermione finally got to their dormitories. Harry and Ron, in the boys’ dormitory, changed into their pajamas and got into their respective beds.

“Well, today was eventful,” said Harry dryly. “Night, Ron.”

“Night, Harry.”

And they fell asleep. This would be a pretty pointless and stupid passage, if not for the fact that they both woke up the next day screaming bloody murder.

Of course, this overlapped with another scream from down on the grounds. Let’s go explore that one first, shall we?

*On the Hogwarts front lawn*

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” Arbitrare continued to scream.

“I don’t like you,” retorted Snape. “You also scream like a girl.”

“It’s glandular!”

Whoops, better rewind here. Hits rewind button. OK, here we go.

*5 minutes ago*

Professor Snape woke and stretched. Five more minutes, he thought, and rolled over. Actually he rolled off of the rather ugly floral print couch that had appeared on the grounds overnight and onto the dewy grass. This sudden wetness seemed to bring Snape back to his senses.

“Why am I sleeping on the lawn?” he wondered aloud.

“Technically, you weren’t on the lawn,” answered an irritatingly familiar voice.

Snape sat up, or rather, tried to sit up, as he was still tightly rolled up in a very large rug. He did manage a glimpse of the smiling, insipid Professor Arbitrare, who was leaning on the back of the tacky couch.

“What are you doing here?” demanded Snape angrily.

“I was checking up on you. I happened to see you deposited here last night and thought I’d be neighborly and check up on you.”

“Oh, thank you so much,” Snape muttered sarcastically as he tried to disentangle himself from the rug.

Arbitrare watched him struggle for a minute, then said, “I would’ve brought you up to the castle, but you were already asleep.”

“Why didn’t you wake me, then?”

“You just looked so peaceful, I couldn’t bear to get you up.”

Snape stopped fighting the rug and stared at Arbitrare for a minute.

“Alright, that’s beyond strange, even for you,” said Snape, redoubling his efforts to escape from the imprisoning carpet.

“You should roll out of that,” Arbitrare commented idly.

“I am not taking the advice of a complete lunatic on how to get out of a rug!”

“Well, you can’t seem get out yourself.”

“Yes, thank you, I’ve noticed that.”

“Well, if you’re just going to be rude…” said Arbitrare, and he started to walk away.

This was bad timing on Arbitrare’s part, as Snape had just freed his wand arm and aimed a spell at the retreating figure. The spell shot past, grazing the back of Arbitrare’s head. He hit the ground as he let out an almighty scream. Snape smirked in a satisfied way and sliced the rest of himself out of the rug.

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” Arbitrare continued to scream. (Ah, we’re up to date now.)

“I don’t like you,” retorted Snape. “You also scream like a girl.”

“It’s glandular!” Arbitrare got up from his cowering position on the grass and glared at Snape, who was likewise getting up.

“I’d like know what gland that was.” Snape now looked like he was trying, with much difficulty, to not laugh his head off.

“I have every right to scream however I want!”

“Of course,” said Snape, and he started back to the castle, still repressing his laughter.

“You nearly took my head off with that spell!” Arbitrare said angrily, catching up with Snape.

“If I was going to take your head off, I would have done so already.”

“So you do have it in for me!”

“When did I ever say that? I only admitted to not liking you.”

“You did throttle me pretty good two chapters ago.”

Snape stopped, his hand on the oak front door of the castle. “What?”

“Oops (breaking the fourth wall there), I meant a few days ago.”

“Oh, that. I had my reasons,” Snape replied, striding into the entrance hall.

“That goes beyond not liking me,” said Arbitrare in an accusatory tone.

Snape stopped again, and turned to face Arbitrare. “I could argue with you all morning, but I do have work to do, and I assume you do as well.”

Arbitrare was about to reply when Hermione with her customary roll of duct tape, Ron caught in a finger trap, and a penguin with a brown paper bag over its head came running down the marble staircase.

Actually, before we go any farther, we need to investigate what Harry and Ron’s problem was. Rewinds again. Alright, here we are.

*In Gryffindor Tower, during the whole screaming session*

Harry had awoken and put his glasses on. He then looked down and realized that he had no fingers.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!” came Ron’s voice.

“What’s going on? What’s wrong?” asked the other three in the dormitory.

“Nothing!” said Harry and Ron together.

Ron waited until Dean, Neville, and Seamus had left, then he went over to Harry’s bed.

“What’s up with you?”

“Oh, nothing, I just have no fingers!” He held up his hands.

“That’s because you’re a penguin.”

“WHAT?!” Harry looked at his reflection in the window by his bed. He had definitely turned into a penguin at some point in the night.

“But never mind that now, look what happened to me!” interjected Ron, holding out his hands. His index fingers were caught in one of those Chinese finger traps.

“At least you have fingers!” shot back Harry.

“Ah, good point.”

“Look, go get Hermione, she might have an idea of what to do.”

“I’m on my way!” Ron ran over to the door. He looked between his stuck fingers and the door, apparently trying to figure out how to turn the knob. He banged his hand against it a couple of times, then out of frustration yelled, “Curse you, infernal contraption!”

“Oh I’ll do it.” Harry got off of his bed and opened the door. Ron took off, and was back in just a minute with Hermione. She looked concerned at first, but when she saw Harry she said, “Oh, it’s not that bad.”

“I’m a penguin, in case you hadn’t noticed!”

“Well, I almost turned into a cat once, I got over that.”

“This is different!”

“No it’s not. Look, if you’re so concerned, wear this.” She thrust a paper bag at him.

Harry put the bag over his head. “I can’t see now.”

“Oh, honestly.” With a wave of her wand, Harry had eyeholes.

“What do we do now?” questioned Ron.

“Let’s go see Professor Arbitrare. It’s late enough, he should be at breakfast.”

The trio ran through the halls, ignoring the odd looks from other students. They were going down the marble staircase when they spotted Arbitrare entering the castle, talking to Snape.

“There he is!” said Harry. “Oh no, Snape’s here, too.”

“I could argue with you all morning, but I do have work to do, and I assume you do as well,” Snape was saying (once again, we’re up to speed).

Arbitrare was about to reply when Hermione with her customary roll of duct tape, Ron caught in a finger trap, and a penguin with a brown paper bag over its head came running down the marble staircase.

“Professor, we’ve got a problem,” panted Hermione, coming to a halt in front of Arbitrare.

“It looks like you’ve got three actually,” he pointed out.

Apparently, this all was too much for Snape, because he actually burst out laughing.

“Um, all right there?” asked Arbitrare.

“Oh, yes, quite,” said Snape, still chuckling slightly. “This just made my morning. Well, I think I’ll have some breakfast. I’ll see if they’ve got fish, shall I, Potter?” And he strode off smirking in his usual nasty fashion.

“Let me jinx him just once!” yelled Harry, fighting against Ron and Hermione, who had grabbed hold of his arms? flippers? wings? whatever they were.

“No, Harry, we need to fix this!” said Hermione.

“Actually, I don’t think I can do anything; this is pretty severe,” replied Arbitrare. He walked towards the Great Hall, pausing in the doorway in order to let a Jedi dueling a suit of armor pass. “You might as well see if they’ve got fish,” he said, then disappeared inside.

“Why does this sort of thing always happen to us?” asked Harry bitterly.

---

A/N: Tada, chappie 5! And I fit a Jedi in! Show your appreciation, adulation, consternation, constipation, probabtions, or otherwise by reviewing! Sorry if this isn’t funny to you, but it certainly is to me. Also: no worries if you want to get back at Snape, he’ll get in trouble next time. Just keep in mind that I am quite the Snape fan (hence the penname).

A/N: I’m reminded of a Billy Joel song: “Whoaaaa, for the longest time…” Well, after THREE MONTHS (I really hadn’t anticipated a delay this long), a new chappie is here!

Also: I decided after the last chapter that I should have some music group or collections sponsor each chapter. I was going to have one of my eclectic CDs sponsor this one, but I didn’t feel like it, so I’m just listening to a mix of video game music. So this chappie is sponsored by the good folks at Nintendo and all their affiliates (and anyone I missed), for all the great tunes they make.

And now, on to the main event!!!

---

Severus Snape was in a terribly good mood. He was sitting in his dank office, grading awful essays, and listening to some odd, wailing nonsense that was currently befouling his CD player (which was oddly enough still working despite it being a Muggle device). Yet, he was in a terribly good mood. His day, which had started off so strangely, had progressed into a rather amusing mess.

He grinned.

The trio’s misadventures had kept everyone’s mood up all day. From what Snape had heard, all three had to endure a great deal of snickering in the halls and in class, from how Potter could even hold his quill to how Weasley couldn’t hold his at all. Apparently, Granger had gotten fed up with all the ridicule and had started threatening people with her roll of duct tape. She’d even gone so far as to pull off a large piece, only to get it stuck in Weasley’s hair. They’d spent the rest of Charms getting it out, which they did, but at the cost of making Weasley’s hair look like Potter’s. Or rather, how Potter’s hair had looked. No one was sure if his hair was the same since he’d been turned into a penguin, since he refused to remove his brown paper bag.

Snape chuckled again.

And yet…there was something a bit off. Snape had the sneaking suspicion that this good of a day couldn’t last. His smirk faded a touch and he paused, dripping ink on a particularly bad essay. Then he lifted one of his earphones and listened hard to the stillness of his office.

Bah, he was probably just being paranoid. Nothing to worry about. He was just settling back in his chair to finish his grading when a loud voice came from upstairs.

“WHAT DID YOU DO?!”

Snape was out of his seat and into the entrance hall in a flash. There, looking guilty and horrified, were Potter, Weasley, and Granger, and looking quite dead on the floor, was Draco Malfoy.

I had probably better explain that. Back it up a couple minutes here.

*A couple of minutes earlier*

Harry, Ron, and Hermione left the Great Hall in a hurry after eating a quick dinner. Ron was the last one out, his face matching his hair.

“’Let’s eat fast,’ you said. ‘We’ll get out here quickly,’ you said. How am I supposed to eat fast if I can’t even hold a fork?” he demanded angrily.

“Stop complaining Ron, you ate enough,” Hermione shot back.

“No I didn’t, I’m still hungry!”

“Oh, and that’s a real shame,” came a sneering voice from the doorway.

The three turned to see Draco Malfoy, arrogant smirk firmly in place.

“Shut it,” said Harry.

“You’re one to talk, bird brain.”

“I said, shut it.”

“Ooh, real snappy comebacks there.”

Ron, already fed up with people pointing and laughing during dinner, yelled, “Drop dead, Malfoy!”

“See what I mean?” Then Malfoy did the strangest thing. His smirk disappeared, his eyes grew wide, and he fell flat on his face.

The trio stood in stunned silence, then Hermione asked, very quietly, “What did you do, Ron?”

“I dunno…” he replied.

“What did you do?” she asked again, louder this time.

“I said I dunno.”

“WHAT DID YOU DO?!”

“I don’t know, Hermione!”

“Hermione, calm down!” Harry shouted.

Too late, Snape had swept up the stairs from his basement office (oh good, we’re on track now). He strode over to Draco’s prone figure, and after looking a bit stunned, yelled, “Fifteen points from Gryffindor for killing another student!”

Harry opened his mouth (beak) to protest, the stopped. “Only fifteen?”

Snape shrugged. “Truth be told, I never really liked him.”

Just then, Arbitrare entered from the Great Hall. “Sorry to intrude, but I heard yelling and as that really is the area of my expertEEESE!” he finished as he tripped over the body in the doorway. He looked at his feet and exclaimed, “Eeew! Why is this on the floor?!”

“That would be one of my students you’re desecrating,” said Snape.

“Wait, didn’t you just say you didn’t like him?” asked Harry.

“Guess who else I don’t like,” Snape muttered.

“I’m sorry, did you just say what I thought I heard?” Arbitrare asked loudly.

“You know perfectly well that I don’t like you and think you’re an idiot and wonder how you ever got a job here.”

“Well, the not liking I knew, but the idiot part I- Hey, wait a minute! That does it, I’m challenging you to a duel, as soon as I get up off the floor!”

As Arbitrare tried to pick himself up, McGonagall came down the marble staricase and into the entrance hall. She surveyed the scene before her, then asked shrilly, “What is going on here?”

Everyone started talking at once:

“We were just minding our own business-“

“I came to see what all the commotion was about-“

“I fell down!”

“-and then he just dropped dead!”

“-and then this dolt showed up-”

“I heard that!”

“One at a time! One at a time!” called McGonagall over the noise. “Now Professor Snape, you first.”

“Yes, well, I was in my office and I heard a disturbance, so I came to investigate and found these three along with Mr. Malfoy’s body, and then this dolt showed up-“

“Oh, that is definitely it!” Arbitrare had finally gotten to his feet. “I am so challenging you to a duel!”

“Fine with me.” Snape spat back.

At this point, total chaos erupted again.

“Can we just go now?”

“-and then I’ll dance on it!”

“I’d like to see you try!”

“That is it!” shouted McGonagall. “Everyone who’s in this hall right now is receiving detention!” A couple of first years who were about to leave dinner right then seemed to think better of it and turned back.

Everyone stopped and stared incredulously. “Everyone?” Hermione asked timidly.

“Everyone.”

“Even us?” asked Arbitrare in an astonished tone of voice.

“Especially you two. I should think that teachers would set a better example for their students.” McGonagall looked around imperiously one more time. “I expect you all to be in my office at eight o’clock tomorrow evening. Even him,” she added, pointing at Malfoy on the floor. She then marched off back up the marble staircase and out of sight.

“I knew this day wouldn’t end well,” Snape muttered to himself.

---

Yay! Chappie 6! As always, share your comments, questions, and coupons by reviewing! And let’s all hope that the wait for chappie seven doesn’t take as long as this one did (I’m very sorry for the delay).

Chapter 7: Weekend at Draco’s

A/N: Well, this one’s up much sooner than chappie six was. I figured that since I had some time to kill on a Saturday, I’d write this chappie, so I could submit it before the holiday break. I’m all about keeping my readers amused.

Also: This chappie is sponsored in part by my friend Amanda, who burned the CD I listened to while writing this. And now, to the story!

---

Snape looked at the clock again. It was now 8:12. Despite being in detention for less than fifteen minutes, it had seemed like at least an hour. Snape hadn’t been in detention for years, and having to serve it with the students he usually put in detention was rather humiliating. He glanced around at everyone else writing, then turned back to his own paper.

See, McGonagall had set everyone to writing so they’d keep quiet. Let’s take a look at what’s being written, shall we?

Ron was only half-heartedly jotting something down (and not just because of his finger trap), a deep frown on his face. This is what he was writing:

I must not kill other students. I must not kill other students. I must not kill other students.(He was supposed to get to one hundred times before he could leave.)

**********

Hermione was, of course, more actively involved in her assignment. She’d written If a student kills another, I will tell a teacher. forty-seven times. Oh, now it’s forty-eight.

**********

Harry had possibly the worst assignment of the group. He was helping the dead Draco write his lines. This wasn’t easy, as Draco kept slumping over the desk and spilling the ink. The third time this happened, Harry got fed up and stabbed the irritating cadaver with his quill. (“Mr. Potter, don’t harass the dead,” McGonagall had said.) The two were writing:

I will not die in the middle of the hall. I will not die in the middle of the hall.

**********

The two professors had gotten off a little easier. Instead of specific lines, they had to write their lesson plans. And of course, neither of them were doing that.

Arbitrare was currently drawing the Crumple Horned Snorkack taking a large bite out of Snape’s torso. Snape, with little X’s for eyes, was saying, “Blarg, I am dead!” Arbitrare chuckled at his artwork, then started drawing penguin Harry eating a fish (the fish also was saying “Blarg, I am dead!”). Let’s see what he wrote before that, though.

This is boring. I wish I had brought some cards. Maybe I can make a deck. Maybe I can knit a scarf. It would be fuzzy and warm and possibly orange. It should be striped. I like oranges. Man, I am SO bored! Hehe, fish. “Blarg, I am dead,” so funny. I wish the Snorkack would eat Snape. Then I’d have some peace and quiet. That Snape. He’s so annoying. So sarcastic. So ugly. He’s nowhere as good looking as me. And he’s so suspicious. He must suspect that I’m- (A large chunk of the parchment was missing here. Arbitrare had used it to make a spit wad, which he shot at Snape. Snape had sent it straight back with a flick of his wand. “Professor, he shot my spit wad at me!” Arbitrare said. McGonagall looked up from grading papers briefly and said, “Good.”) That Snape! I shot that at him! He doesn’t have the decency to get hit, how rude. I hate him! He hates me (which is also rude)! And I think he wants to kill me (so very rude).

**********

Snape had several papers in front of him, many with research and class notes written on them. This was a clever ruse, as he wasn’t preparing for class. He was scribbling furiously, because he was furious. Let’s see what he’s got.

That Arbitrare. I want to kill him. But I promised Dumbledore I wouldn’t. This is one of those times I wish he didn’t trust me. But Arbitrare isn’t a Death Eater, not that I know, anyway (How could he be? He’s a complete idiot!), so I’m not spying, so I bet I could get away with it…I wonder if I could make it look like an accident. That Arbitrare. He’s so stupid. So irritating. So much better looking than me. It’s people like him that I despise. And I’m pretty sure he wants to kill me. Well, we’ll see who kills whom first. Oh yes, Draco went first. Serves him right, the snot. He and his father, they’re annoying too. And so much better looking than me. OK, I’m being shallow, but I have the right to be! How that (Something naughty is here) ever got married, I’ll never know. Oh yes, because his wife is also shallow. Which is a real shame, because she’s so hot. So’s her sister. Hmm, I’ll make a list of all the women I’ve ever liked.

On a new sheet of paper Snape had:

Snape’s List Of Hot Women

Narcissa Malfoy: Pro- very hot. Con- married, and annoying. Rather clingy.

Bellatrix Lestrange: Pro- very, very hot. Con- also married, and a horrid sadist. Plus, I think she also wants to kill me. But so hot.

That one girl that was in Ravenclaw in my year: Pro- very cute. Con- not in Slytherin, hates me. Think I jinxed her for making fun of me, so she’s not going to want a date.

J.K. Rowling: Pro- has marketable skills. Con- also married (I’m noticing a frightening trend here), thinks I’m creepy.

McG- NO NO NO. So wrong. So creepy. Ah, she’s looking at me now.

Snape quickly tucked this paper into the inner pocket of his robes and went back to the first paper.

I think the teenage hormones are affecting my brain function. I haven’t written a list like that since I was in third year. I’m pretty sure Bellatrix wanted to kill me then, too. All these hormones. Must be Potter, he’s always chasing girls. Weasley’s far too oblivious. Didn’t Granger have a thing for that Krum a couple years ago? Yes, yes, I remember. I hate Quidditch players too. They’re so self-absorbed. I hate that Arbitrare too. He’s looking at me…Oh good, he stopped. Ah, he’s doing it again. I hate him. I hate that stupid grin. I’m so glad I’ll get to absolutely thrash him in our duel. I think I’ll update my enemies list.

Snape pulled out a clean sheet of paper and started scribbling again.

Snape’s Enemies List

1. Potter, Arbitrare. Yes, that dolt has tied Potter. I so want to kill him. Potter I can at least torture with pointless assignments and detention. But what can I do to Arbitrare? I’ll have to mull that one over.

2. Granger. Why do she always have to show people up with her smarts? So terribly annoying. I loved when I called her an insufferable know-it-all. That was funny.

3. Weasley. He’s only this far up because he’s part of “the trio.” He really doesn’t pose much of a threat.

4. The Wimbourne Wasps. They’ll be off the list when they give me my money back.

5. The Dark Lord. He’s such a whiner. “Kill them, kill them!” Do it yourself!

6. McGonagall. Put me in detention, will you?

7. Dumbledore. Making me promise to be good. Why does he have to be so trusting? I could kill Arbitrare and throw Potter out a window then.

8. Lucius Malfoy. If he’d just die, I’d be happy. He’s also annoying.

9. All the stupid first years I have. “Professor, is my cauldron hot enough?” It’s on fire, what do you think?

10. The color orange, and peas. They’re both awful.

Yes, ten should be enough for now.

**********

Snape also put this paper in his pocket and smirked nastily. He looked at the clock again. It was now 8:47. Good way to spend half an hour, he thought. Obviously McGonagall thought so too, because she said, “I think you can leave now, Professors.”

“Woohoo!” shouted Arbitrare. He jumped out of his seat and bolted for the door, but not before he had dropped a note on Snape’s paper pile. Snape opened the note and read:

Our duel? Ten o’clock, seventh floor corridor. See you there.

Hugs, Arbitrare (Included in this note was the picture of Snape being eaten by the Snorkack.)

Snape looked up quickly at the door. Arbitrare’s head was poked around the doorframe. He was wearing a nasty grin that could match any of Snape’s. He quickly ducked out of sight as McGonagall looked at the door. “Professor, aren’t you going to leave?” she asked.

“Oh, yes,” Snape replied. “Just let me get my papers…” He gathered up all his notes and headed out the door. He hadn’t gotten too far down the hall when a nasty voice came from a dark corner.

“See you at ten.”

“OH, JUST (Something else naughty is here)!!!!” Snape shouted back.

---

There, chappie 7! I hope you had as much fun reading as I did writing it. I seriously was laughing a great deal at this one. People thought I was crazy. Of course, I had just looked up a funny thing I wrote down (“Your colon is backwards” is what it was. Even scarier, I said it, long story).

A/N: So, I’m pretty sure this is taking a long time for me to get this chappie written/submitted. This is the unfortunate price paid by those of us with too much of a life. Happiness did ensue on a particular Friday afternoon, when this chappie was written. I was just thinking, hey let’s write, I’ve got time to kill. I also assembled a new play list on the compy with many good songs in it, which is lovely. So that’s the music that sponsored this chappie. And now, since this author’s note is threatening to consume us all (does anyone even read these?), let’s get to chappie 8!

---

Snape paced the floor of his office. It was now 9:32; his duel with Arbitrare was now less than half an hour away. As he paced, a curious feeling grew in Snape’s stomach. Part of it was excitement: he could now permanently wipe that arrogant smirk from Arbitrare’s idiotic face, and hang him from the flagpole by his underwear (that is, if Hogwarts had a flagpole).

But another part of the feeling was anxiety. Arbitrare had started out as a completely incompetent sap with an affinity for Every-Flavor Beans, but recently he’d turned rather sinister. Snape worried that Arbitrare might have been lulling the school into a false sense of insecurity, what with a clueless DADA professor and people turning purple. Snape had a sneaking suspicion there was more of a connection there than he’d previously thought…

He looked at the clock again. 9:45. “I suppose I’d better get going,” he muttered, but not before rummaging through some cabinets looking for something to settle his stomach. He found a bottle of something that, after taking a swig, burned on the way down. Coughing slightly, Snape looked at the label. It was a bottle of Ogden’s Old Firewhiskey, bottled 1895. After thinking that fifteen years of teaching Potions would have taught him not to drink out of mysterious bottles without looking at the label (especially in his office), Snape shrugged and downed the rest of the bottle. He firmly convinced himself that he could still see, then went to the seventh floor corridor.

Snape arrived in the corridor to find that Arbitrare was already there. And he thought that Arbitrare might have had a malevolent grin, but it was awfully dark in this hall, and the guy’s face was all blurry.

“You’re late,” sneered Arbitrare.

“What?” Snape asked, a bit unnecessarily loud.

“I said, you’re late. It’s now five after ten; the duel started at ten.”

“No, no, no. You didn’t say, you sneered. I’m the only one allowed to sneer in this castle.”

Arbitrare snorted humorlessly. “I daresay that may change.”

Snape frowned. “Are you trying to steal my identity?”

“Oh no, I’d like to get invited to parties. I couldn’t do that if I were you.”

“Alright, that does it. Let’s just get this over with.” Snape attempted to pull his wand out. You’d think that fifteen years teaching Potions would also have taught him that drinking an entire bottle of Firewhiskey from before the turn of the century in a matter of seconds makes one a tad tipsy. So Snape couldn’t seem to find his wand.

“Yes, let’s get this over with,” Arbitrare said darkly. Snape was rummaging in his pockets as Arbitrare approached. Snape pulled his hand out of his pocket, but his wand wasn’t there. Instead, he had a handful of…cashews. Looking up, he saw Arbitrare on the other end of the hall, then suddenly he was less than a foot away, blurry face leering menacingly.

This sudden move startled Snape into using the only defense he had. He threw the cashews at Arbitrare. The nuts hit him square in the face, and he fell with a shriek.

“My eyes! My enchanting eyes! It burns!” He writhed helplessly on the floor.

Snape blinked. “Hey, I guess I won.”

Arbitrare staggered to his feet. “You’re not even close to winning,” he snarled.

“Wait, who’s the other five guys?” Snape slurred. He was getting mighty tipsy now.

Arbitrare stopped. He smirked. He pulled an umbrella out from behind his back and whomped Snape over the head with it. Snape fell to his knees and Arbitrare came a step closer. “Game, set, and match, rummy.” He then smacked Snape in the face, sending him sprawling back on the floor. “That’s for the cashews.”

---

Snape woke rather groggy. He had blacked out soon after Arbitrare had hit him, but from booze or getting clobbered by a man with a weapon from Mary Poppins, he didn’t know. One thing he did know, the light was far too bright, and his head was pounding. Or was that the approaching footsteps of the trio?

“Professor?” gasped Hermione.

Snape looked up, and as his vision came into focus, he groaned and let out a long string of very naughty phrases.

“My virgin ears!” cried Ron.

“Oh, shut up Ron, you swear the worst of any of us,” said Harry.

“What happened, Professor?” Hermione asked, sounding concerned.

“Nothing, nothing,” said Snape, getting to his feet and wobbling a bit.

“Are you alright?” Hermione still seemed concerned.

“I’m fine,” Snape said shortly, leaning against a wall. “What time is it?”

“It’s nine in the morning,” said Harry. “We were headed back to the common room.”

Snape sighed angrily, pushed off from the wall, and stormed down the hall, stringing out more naughty phrases.

He made it back to his office, and ran the tap on a sink in there (what, don’t you have a sink in your office?). He splashed some water on his face, then caught sight of himself in the mirror. The Snape in the mirror looked worse than usual. He had a black eye from the umbrella, and his nose looked more bent out of shape than usual.

“I look like a hockey player,” Snape mused.

“What’s hockey?” his reflection asked.

“Muggle sport.”

“Entailing what?”

“Sticks and ice. Look, I’m not feeling well, go look it up if you’re so interested.” Snape turned from the mirror and went to his desk.

“Ah,” said the reflection. It pulled a face then disappeared.

Snape went through his desk drawers, looking for something to ease his headache and cut the taste of mothballs in his mouth. He at last located a potion to do just that, and as he sat down to find a glass, he found a note on the desktop. Apprehension grew inside him as he unfolded the piece of parchment.

Hey Snapey, it read.

Since I won the duel, I get to pick a prize. How about another round? I noticed you were, um, slightly impaired last night, so I’ll give you another chance. Aren’t you happy that I’m such a generous person? And so good looking. Me, not you. Your face is bad enough, though I think I made an improvement. Anyway, I’ll see you tonight, say at nine in the Charms corridor. And don’t be late again.

More hugs, Arbitrare

Another piece of paper fell out of the note. It was a picture of Arbitrare holding the umbrella like a pike, with Snape’s head on top, tongue hanging out and X’s for eyes.

Snape, feeling his headache coming back, took a deep breath and started on more naughty phrases.

---

Though it was past time for all students to be back in their common rooms, Harry, Ron, and Hermione waited in the Charms corridor. They somehow, for the sake of plot, found out about Snape and Arbitrare’s duel that evening and came to watch.

Snape, arriving five minutes early this time, was actually sort of relieved. Though the sight of the trio typically threatened to give him an ulcer, he had to admit it was nice to have someone on his side. The three had somehow, also for the sake of plot, deduced that Arbitrare was the one who beat Snape up and left him on the seventh floor.

Arbitrare soon sauntered into the hallway. He looked, if possible, more arrogant and deranged than he had the night before. “Oh joy, the peanut gallery,” he said, spying the trio. “Well, I suppose you need all the help you can get.”

“I didn’t think Professor Arbitrare so was so mean,” Hermione whispered to Harry and Ron.

“Yeah, he seemed batty, but not evil,” replied Ron.

“I wonder what’s changed,” Harry said.

Arbitrare, overhearing them, said with a nasty smile, “Snape just brings out the worst in me.”

“Can we just get this over with?” Snape asked, pulling his wand out.

“Couldn’t agree more,” said Arbitrare. He snapped his fingers loudly and stood, waiting.

In fact, everyone stood waiting. Nothing happened for a good couple of minutes.

“Are you going to do anything?” Snape finally asked.

“I already have.” Arbitrare pointed behind Snape. Everyone looked to see what was coming.

It was the Snorkack. It came up the hall, and knocked Snape to the floor. Before anyone knew what had happened, it slurped him down whole.

“How horrible,” Hermione said, sounding shell-shocked.

“Lovely,” said Arbitrare, contrasting Hermione. “Well kiddies, you’d better be off to bed now. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got tests to grade.” And he did a little jig out of the hall.

---

A/N: I know what you’re thinking. “I thought you liked Snape! Why’d you kill him?” Well, because I’m strange that way. Just remember that nothing is as it seems at Hogwarts. And we might need zombies in chappie 9.

A/N: Let’s hear it for time to kill on the weekends! Because if there weren’t such a thing, there would be maybe four chapters to this story. So, since I had a Saturday that was rather unfilled, I decided to update sooner than usual, which isn’t hard. Since this author’s note is going nowhere, I’ll just give credit where credit is due. As the title implies, February is taking a lot of credit. With Valentine’s Day and the Olympics, there will be much mockery fodder. The music sponsor for this chappie was the awesome play list I compiled. This chappie was also sponsored by the lovely people who give me wacky ideas in their reviews (that’s a hint to review, by the way), and by Dr Pepper, Nectar of the Gods.


ALSO: Due to the massive number of reviews I've gotten from thoroughly scarred people, I must put in a warning about some wacky OOC-ness and some strange pairings that I won't divulge here as it would spoil the surprise, and you wouldn't be properly scarred for life. Enjoy!

---

The trio stood in a dark corner of a corridor, looking tense. Well, actually, Hermione looked tense, Harry and Ron were playing “I Spy.”

“I spy, with my little eyes, something starting with…B,” said Ron.

“Is it a brick?” asked Harry.

“Uh, no, it’s bricks. With an S. Nice try, though.”

“Will you two stop that?” Hermione interrupted tensely. “It’s quite annoying.”

“You’re worrying too much,” Ron said. “Ginny’ll be here in a minute.”

“Hey, guys?” said a voice behind them.

The three turned to see Ginny and Luna, who was carrying a large turnip, standing there. “About time you noticed we were here,” Ginny continued.

“When did you get here?” Ron asked incredulously.

“Fifteen minutes ago. We couldn’t get your attention because you were too busy playing ‘I Spy.’ Which is really pathetic, because you spied me four times.”

“Oh, er, okay.” Ron flushed and stared at his shoes. Hermione rushed around him and asked hurriedly, “Well, did you find anything?”

“Well, there’s a pirate ship on the lake. They’ve been after the giant squid, thought it’s not giving up easily, said Ginny.

“I won a ribbon for this lovely Wagglebulb,” said Luna, holding the turnip out proudly.

“Anything inside the castle?” Hermione asked impatiently.

“You have to understand, it’s hard to get any information with Neville around,” explained Ginny.

“Why?”

“Ever since he was made queen of the flying monkeys, it’s hard to get anywhere in the castle,” said Luna.

There was an awkward pause while everyone stared at Luna. “Uh…” said Harry.

Ginny shrugged. “It’s true. You have to have password clearance, and they’ve taken all of the bananas.”

“Anything else? Anything relevant?” asked Hermione.

“Nope, sorry.” said Ginny. “Though there is this rumor of a dance going around.” She scratched her chin with her hook.

“WHAT?” Ron grabbed Ginny’s wrist. “When did this happen?”

She shrugged again. “I got it from the pirates.”

“That’s where I got this Wagglebulb,” added Luna, polishing the turnip. “It’s very rare.”

Hermione sighed. “Luna, that’s a turnip, not a wacky bulb, or whatever.”

“It is a Wagglebulb. Watch.” She set it on the floor. It started to shake a bit, then it jumped up and latched onto Ron’s head. He started screaming and running circles.

“Getitoffgetitoffgetitoffgetitoffgetitoff-“

“Hey kids!” called Dumbledore, electric sliding into the hallway. “The dance is officially on! It’ll be Saturday at eight. Tell your friends! Though I imagine that Neville’s monkey spy network will have everyone informed quickly. That and the fliers on the bulletin boards.” He broke into an Irish high step and left the hall with a final, “See you there!”

“-getitoffgetitoffgetitoffgetitoff-“

“Just hold your nose,” said Luna.

Ron stopped screaming, grabbed his nose, and immediately the plant let go of his head. Luna caught it (the turnip, not Ron) while Hermione rolled her eyes. “Well, thanks for the information, such as it was.” She turned and started down the hall. Harry and Ron followed.

“Where are we going?” Ron asked. “Common room? Lunch?”

“Library.”

The boys groaned. Hermione whipped around and glared at them. “I’ve finally got a lead and need your help, so I don’t want to hear any complaining!”

“Aye, aye captain,” said Ron, saluting.

“Wait, a lead on what?” Harry asked.

“A lead on this spell. I know just the book to help us, too.”

“You’re not still on about this Power of Suggestion thing, are you?”

“And what if I am?”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Give it a rest, Hermione. I say, ride it out and have fun doing it.”

“Not a chance. Besides,” she said, starting down the hall again, “When have I ever had fun?”

---

In the library, Hermione searched feverishly along the shelves. Harry and Ron had given up helping, since they had no idea what book Hermione was looking for, so they were just getting in the way. They were actually looking for an empty table to sit at when Hermione came up behind them and said, “That’s the book!”

She was pointing to someone who’s face was hidden behind a large tome entitled When Strange Magic Goes Bad. The person also had a coffee cup and a CD player on the table.

“No way…” whispered Harry.

“What?” asked Snape pointedly. The trio screamed.

“How’d he get out of the cow?” asked Ron in a panicky voice.

“Magic.” Snape retorted. “And will you keep it down?” he added in a snarl. He looked over his shoulder to make sure Madam Pince was still checking books out to some fourth years. “I don’t want anyone to know I’m alive until Saturday.”

“Why Saturday?” asked Hermione, making sure to keep her voice low.

Snape stared at her. “You’re joking, right?”

“No…”

He sighed angrily. “The dance, Granger. I assumed you knew, since you’re on the planning committee.”

“I’m what?”

“On the planning committee.”

“He’s right!” said Ron, looking at a flier. Sure enough, Hermione was listed as one of the party planners.

“How did I get to be part of this dance? I only just heard about it!”

“Longbottom,” answered Snape.

“What, Neville?” asked Harry. “Did he come up with this dance idea?”

“Probably. He’s got a disturbing amount of clout in the school anymore.”

“Yeah, and he knows Hermione’s the smartest in the year, so he’d want her help!” said Ron.

“For once, Weasley, you’re right,” sneered Snape (I love that alliteration). “And since Granger is now planning this thing, I hope to utilize her position.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Ron threateningly.

“It means, I can finally stop this stupid spell and Arbitrare once and for all.” He stood up. “Granger, I need to come with you to your planning meeting.”

“What? Why? Where?” sputtered Hermione.

“The best laid plans, Granger. It won’t be hard to find out where the meeting is.”

“I thought you didn’t want anyone to know you’re alive until the dance,” said Harry.

“I don’t.” He put on a fake beard.

“You look like Hans Gruber.”

“Who?” asked Ron, confused.

“Never mind,” said Harry.

“Come on, we’ve got a dance to plan.” Said Snape. And he ushered Hermione out of the library.

"No, he's accosting Hermione!" said Ron. "I wanted to do that!"

Harry stared at him.

"Uh, I mean, let's follow them!"

---

Soon, the planning meeting was over, and our heroes found themselves walking back to the common room.

“Is it just me, or is Snape really starting to lose it?” asked Ron.

“It’s not just you,” said Harry.

At the meeting, Snape, in his terrible yet disturbingly effective disguise, had taken every opportunity to try and set up Arbitrare’s untimely demise. He’d suggested everything from flesh-eating confetti to dropping the chandelier on Arbitrare, to spiking the drinks (or more specifically, Arbitrare’s drink). And he did this while amazingly making it seem like is homicidal plans were all in the name of fun.

“He’s not losing it,” snapped Hermione. “He’s just trying to stop this spell.”

“Tell that to the kid he threw the confetti at,” said Ron.

“Or the guy who got his drink spiked,” added Harry.

“And who could forget the rousing game of ‘Pin the Chandelier on Neville.’”

“That’s enough from both of you,” Hermione interrupted angrily. “Since you won’t bother helping, Snape may be the only one able to helps us stop the stupid Power of Suggestion.”

“This dance is going to be a disaster,” muttered Ron.

---

Saturday evening arrived with a bang. That’s because someone had eaten fireworks. They had to rush him to the hospital wing with the seat of his pants on fire.

Anyway, the dance, for as many rumors had been flying around about it, started off rather dull. People milled about for a bit, getting drinks and making small talk. The trio caught sight of Snape, still wearing his fake beard and talking to Dumbledore.

“Hello there!” greeted Dumbledore as the three approached. “Have you met Jacque?”

“Yeah, actually,” admitted Harry.

“But yes, you were saying?” Dumbledore turned back to Snape, er, Jacque. Snape then started off in fluent French, and Dumbledore looked intensely interested.

“I didn’t know Snape spoke French,” muttered Harry.

“I didn’t know Dumbledore understood it,” marveled Hermione.

“It looks like he’s faking it,” said Ron.

“Who, Snape or Dumbledore?” asked Harry.

“Take your pick.” They laughed while Hermione scowled and looked around.

“When is this dance going to get started?” she wondered aloud.

“When His Highness arrives,” said Ginny, coming over with Luna, still carrying her giant turnip.

“His Highness?”

“Neville,” clarified Ginny.

“He’s queen of the flying monkeys now,” added Luna dreamily. “He ought to be here soon, don’t worry.”

No sooner had she said that, than Neville arrived, more to get the plot moving than anything else. He looked rather ridiculous, wearing a large sparkly crown and carrying a scepter with an equally sparkly banana on top. He threw his arms out wide and boomed, “Let the festivities begin!”

This one sentence had a similar effect on the crowd as a blackout does on a group of potential rioters. Namely, chaos. Within five seconds a whole corner of the Great Hall was on fire, some people were screaming, others were slapping each other with fish, and music was blaring,

“Hey, who’s that?” yelled one of the Patil twins over the noise. Harry looked where she was pointing. It was Snape, and he was playing with a mixing board (where does all this Muggle stuff come from, anyway?).

“Oh, that’s, er, Hans,” invented Harry, using his previous reference to Snape’s fake beard. “Hans, um, Wunderlich. The best deejay in the wizarding world.”

“What’s a deejay?”

“He’s in charge of the music.”

“Oh. Someone should tell him to turn it down.”

Harry grumbled, and started for Snape. He was passing a kitchen sink filled with 47 pineapples, when the doors to the Hall burst open with a rush of cold air. Silence filled the hall as everyone saw who had entered.

“Whoa, it’s chilly out!” said Voldemort as he handed a long fur coat (but not a real fur coat, that’s cruel) to a nearby Death Eater. Along with his usual Death Eaters in tow, Voldemort had brought along a number of dementors in party hats. “So, how’s it going?”

No one spoke. The Death Eaters, who had graciously ditched the crappy cone hats, started shuffling into a dark corner. “Aw, c’mon…” whined Voldemort. “What’s the problem?”

“Well, possibly, Tom,” replied Dumbledore, “Since you’re a very feared wizard, you’re making people uncomfortable.”

Voldemort laughed. “Please, this is humor fan fiction! The most evil I can muster is gate crashing a school dance. It’s not like I pose a real threat or anything!”

There was a collective, “Ohhh!” and people started laughing and enjoying themselves with mayhem again. Snape, er, Jacque, er, Hans started the music again, then left his post to get a drink. He hadn’t gotten far when something stopped him in his tracks.

“Hiya, Snape,” said Arbitrare with an evil grin. Snape turned slowly. “Hello, Arbitrare,” he said, and pulled off his fake beard. There were many gasps and many exclamations of “He’s not dead!” at this. “No, I’m not dead,” said Snape. “But you are.” He pointed his wand at Arbitrare.

“Sorry, I’m afraid I can’t let you do that,” said a mysterious stranger. The stranger had amazingly fabulous hair and a mischievous grin.

“Who says I can’t?” Snape asked angrily.

“I says, and since I’m the author, I’m afraid my word sticks.” There were more gasps at this announcement. “Exactly. So, no killing off Arbitrare. But since I’m going to be leaving the vicinity to compete in a talent competition and won’t be able to stop you, I will let you punch him in the nose for the umbrella bit.”

“Oh, alright.” Snape punched Arbitrare in the nose.

Speaking of punch, let’s go to the punch bowl, where there were many odd discussions going on.

******

“You are one fine looking woman,” Neville was saying to a rather disinterested looking Jedi. “If it weren’t against your religion to date, I’d go out with you like that!” He slapped his hand on the table.

Just then, a disgruntled looking yet gorgeous elf with a nametag reading “Hello! My name is Legolas” wandered up. “Hey, she’s mine!” he growled. “Go find someone your own caliber. See if the Hog’s Head has a barmaid yet.” He laughed derisively.

“You wanna go, pretty boy? Let’s go then!” shouted Neville, and he shoved Legolas’s head into the punch bowl.

******

Ew. Um, let’s go listen in on another conversation, shall we?

******

“Oh, I’ve heard it all!” Voldemort was saying to a rather disinterested Bellatrix. “The Dork Lord, Lord Moldy-shorts, Lord Moldy-mort, Moldy Voldy, The Dark Lard…there’s plenty more, I’m sure. Why don’t people fear my name? They’re supposed to be afraid of me, not make fun of me at every turn! It’s just not easy being evil, I tell ya.”

“Yes, well,” said Bellatrix, inching away. “I’m going over there now.”

“No, wait! Aw, now who am I supposed to complain to?” He looked around. “Hey, you want to be friends?” Voldemort asked a now sopping wet Legolas.

******

Who knew evil was so boring? Let’s go back to Harry, Ron and Hermione.

******

“Say, Ron,” said Hermione, looking into her half-empty glass. “Do you ever think we could be more than just friends?”

Ron choked on the tart he was eating. “W-What?” he spluttered.

Harry, not wanting to listen in on this, started slurping noisily on his glass of punch.

“I said, do you think we could be more than just friends?” repeated Hermione, blushing now. “Because, well, I, um, like you.”

Ron started choking even more violently on his food. “Where did this come from?!”

“Oh, come on, Ron, it’s been fairly obvious for years now. Hasn’t it, Harry?”

Harry muttered something like “Yeah, sure,” as he spied Ginny and started following her.

******

Wow, this is getting a little 3rd-5th year. Let’s go back to Snape.

******

Snape stood by the punch bowl, debating whether or not to have a drink. He was deciding on no, since someone’s head had been in the bowl not too long ago, when Bellatrix wandered up.

“Snape,” she said, rather detachedly.

“Bellatrix,” he acknowledged. “How’s the Dark Lord doing?”

“Oh, the usual,” she said, pouring herself some punch. “The ‘why doesn’t anyone like me’ speech. But with a twist this time.”

“Oh?”

She nodded and sipped her drink. “It’s more along the lines of why his name isn’t striking fear into the wizarding world anymore. I say it’s because it was pretty stupid to begin with.”

“Don’t let him hear you saying that,” Snape warned.

“He’s too busy chatting with the elf to notice.” She sipped the punch again. “But enough about the Dark Lord. Let’s talk about you.”

Snape stared. “What?”

“You heard me. I want to talk about you.”

Snape cleared his throat. “Um, that’s new. Aren’t you married?” he asked, trying a different tack.

“Oh, Rodolpho, or whatever his name was?” She waved her hand dismissively. “He’s an idiot. Actually, he should be dead by now. I pushed him in the lake and I think the giant squid ate him.”

“Is that right?” Snape was inching away now.

“Absolutely. You know, I don’t know why I married him in the first place. But now that’s he’s out of the picture, I’ve got bigger fish to fry.” She stared pointedly at him.

“Um, I’m going to go over there now,” said Snape hurriedly, and he zipped away. He was so busy hurrying along that he almost ran into the author, who was wearing ice skates.

“Stand back, Snape,” said FriendsOfSnape, throwing an arm out to stop Snape from sliding into the makeshift rink. “It’s my turn now.”

“For what?”

“For ice skating in the Annual Death Eater Talent Contest! I’m going for gold here.” And with that, FoS, as we’ll call me for short, started off. A fantastic program was performed (which is quite hilarious, as in real life I’m rather terrible at ice skating), and the author left the ice to await the scores. The judges contemplated for a minute, then wrote down their scores and held up the cards. 10, 10, 10, 9.5, 10…

“WHAT?!” FoS took a skate and threw it at the cheap judge, who promptly fell over with a rather large laceration. “Yes! Who’s winning now?” A couple of angry looking Death Eaters pulled out their wands and started hurling curses.

“Eep!” said the author, and ducked. The curses barely missed several spectators, and a few others, including Bellatrix, who was making a beeline for Snape.

“Oh no…” he groaned.

The ever-astute author looked over at the impending doom. “Women trouble, huh?”

“You could say that,” replied Snape, searching for an escape route.

“Well, I’m not going to help you. Because I’m no great relationship expert. But since I’m the author, let me just say that if running from her doesn’t work, just go with it. Oh, and try the punch.” With that, I left the story to the actual characters.

“Oh, Severus…” called Bellatrix, slipping between various folks and a suit of armor with a large lavender plume on its helmet.

“Hey, watch it!” said the armor indignantly. “Just wait till my father hears about this…”

Bellatrix stopped and looked back at the armor. “Draco?” she asked. “I thought you were dead!”

“I was, but I came back as a suit of armor, and now I’m trying to find the trio so I can haunt them.”

“Sounds like a plan. I’d love to stay and chat, but I really must dash.” She turned around and searched again for Snape. But he was gone! Escaped into the entrance hall, to be precise.

Snape stood panting outside the Great Hall. That had been close. What was causing all these people to act so strange? Granger was usually not so forthcoming with her relationship issues, and Potter, girl crazy as he was, was currently a penguin with a bag over his head and seemed incapable of putting the moves on anything other than a fish fillet. And how about Bellatrix? Hadn’t he said just two chapters ago that she’d hated him for years? So what had changed?

As Snape was pondering this, someone else burst into the hall, slamming the doors to the Great Hall behind him. Ron, doubled over and panting harder than Snape, was saying, “I think I lost her…”

“Lost who?” Snape asked snidely (he knew perfectly well who Ron had lost).

“Hermione,” gasped Ron, “She’s been following me all night; I don’t know what’s wrong with her.”

Just then, a couple of giggling third years staggered out of the Hall.

“Hey, did you see that person stalking the not really dead Snape?” said the first one, sloshing a glass of punch.

“Yeah, can you imagine Snape with a girlfriend?” giggled the second one.

“Snape with a girlfriend? When Hagrid’s Snorkack flies!” They both started laughing uncontrollably.

“I’ll take that,” snapped Snape (another great alliteration), swiping the kid’s glass of punch.

“EEEEK!” the kids squealed, and they ran for dear life.

Snape scowled after them, then turned his attention to the punch he’d stolen. He looked into it, looked at it in the light, shook it a little bit. He was just taking a whiff of it when Ron came over.

“Thought so,” said Snape triumphantly. He tossed the contents of the glass over his shoulder.

“Thought what, Professor?” asked Ron.

“The punch has been spiked with Cupid’s Concoction. It’s a love potion, Weasley,” he clarified at Ron’s confused look. “A rather insipid and random one, but effective nonetheless. Its pink color and the low lighting let it blend perfectly with the punch. This must be why everyone is acting strange. Well, stranger than usual.”

“Hey, yeah!” exclaimed Ron. “Hermione had some, and so did Harry!”

“And so did Bellatrix,” mumbled Snape.

“Who?”

“Bellatrix. The woman who was following me.”

“Bellatrix Lestrange?” gasped Ron.

“Yes. Well, I’m not sure about that anymore. She said her husband got eaten by the squid.”

“Ew.”

“Hmm…” said Snape, staring at the glass. There were a couple drops left of the punch/potion. He caught one on the tip of his finger and tasted it. It actually didn’t taste that bad, and he was suddenly feeling rather daring and stupid. Rather like how his brain was all muddled when he wrote the infamous lists.

Rather like a teenager.

Snape glanced up at Ron. “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.”

---

The dance was going quite well. People were still acting insane, but it was less random pandemonium. The fire in the corner was now a controlled blaze, and in fact some folks were toasting marshmallows over it. The somewhat calm chaos was broken by the doors banging open.

Ron entered, ran straight to the punch bowl, guzzled a couple glasses, and then took off to find Hermione. The doors had just shut when they swung open with a bang again. “Who keeps doing that?” wondered Neville. This was his dance, after all, and he wasn’t going to have the doors making noise all evening. Then he saw that it was Snape who threw the doors open this time, and decided against incurring wrath.

Snape stood silhouetted in the doorway. He let the doors swing shut dramatically behind him (“For the love!” exclaimed Neville). He scanned the crowd, then started forward. Bellatrix saw him enter, and started forward also.

And there, under the decorations of flying pigz and flying cowz (no, I didn’t misspell anything, it’s a brand name), they….

I’ll bet I know what you’re thinking. They met and hugged and kissed and made all the onlookers gag and shout “Gross! Raise the rating on this story!”

Well, you’d be wrong. Now, to rid us all of the disturbing mental pictures, I’ll tell you what really happened.

They almost met. As it was, Bellatrix was going in for the kill (known in some circles as a hug), when Snape ducked her, and went straight to the punch bowl. He started knocking back glasses of punch, rather like Ron did. Voldemort was still there, and he said, “You know someone’s head was in the bowl, right?”

“I don’t care,” said Snape in between gulps of punch. He finished the glass he was on, and did a very un-Snape-like thing and wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve. Then he whipped around and started for Bellatrix.

Now you can let your imaginations run wild.

---

Well, there it is, chappie nine! And it’s probably the longest one yet! What am I saying probably, I know it is. And I’m sorry to be so lovey-dovey on this one, but what better way to make fun of Valentine’s Day than to make fun of shipping and relationships in general? Especially the weird ones. *Looks back at last sentence* Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I need to go take a shower.

Snape woke up and stared at the ceiling. It was a bit odd; this wasn’t his usual ceiling. There was a lot of light. That kind of light that has all sorts of golden yellows and vibrant oranges and splashes of fiery red that are indicative of a particularly spectacular sunset. I should be a writer, thought Snape. He tried to roll over, but the very prospect of moving made his side hurt, so he simply obliged to turn his head.

That’s when he saw the other bed.

Snape was now rather angry. He’d ended up here 45 times, and it never got any better. Poor Snape, you see, was in the hospital wing. He tried to sit up, only to find Madam Pomfrey shoving him back onto his pillows.

“Try not to move, Severus,” she said, insisting on using his first name. “You swallowed an awful lot of glass.”

Ah yes, now it was coming back to him. He’d been looking for Bellatrix at the dance, right after chugging all that spiked punch. He’d been standing in the middle of the hall, when one of the traps he’d come up with for Arbitrare got set on him. There was a loud grinding noise, then crash! The chandelier fell on him.

And I’ll bet you thought he hooked up with Bellatrix. Well, nope. We’ve got to keep this story age appropriate.

“And I think you set a new record,” Madam Pomfrey continued.

“New record?” asked Snape.

“Mm hmm. Of the 206 bones in the adult human body, you managed to break 114. And nearly get run through by that chandelier.”

“Yet I’m still alive.”

“No, I fixed you right up. No one’s died yet under my care, Severus. That, and you’ve always been incredibly resilient.”

“So what you’re saying is…I’m indestructible...”

Madam Pomfrey shrugged. “I normally wouldn’t go quite that far, but it almost seems like it. Someone out there must really like you.”

“Hello!” called the author from the door.

“Out!” yelled Madam Pomfrey. She shooed the author away, then headed back across the ward, leaving Snape with, “Get some rest. I won’t have you dying anytime soon.”

Snape waited until Madam Pomfrey was safely ensconced in her office, then he gritted his teeth and rolled out of bed. He quickly and quietly slipped out of the hospital wing and headed down the hall.

Snape was debating whether or not he should go see Dumbledore. After all, another staff member was up to no good. But on the other hand, Dumbledore had thus far turned a blind eye to Arbitrare’s shenanigans. Snape was just about to decide between seeing Dumbledore or going to his own office when the trio showed up.

“Professor!” said Hermione. “We were just looking for you.”

“She means she was just looking for you,” said Harry.

“We had nothing to do with it,” added Ron.

Snape sighed angrily. “What do you want?”

“Professor Dumbledore wants to see you,” said Hermione. “He said you can find him in his office.”

“Of course,” mumbled Snape. It seemed his mind had been made up for him.

“I’ve got to ask, sir,” said Harry, snidely emphasizing the last word, “Did you spike the punch?”

Snape gave him a condescending look. “What do you think?”

“No, ‘cause think about it,” said Ron. “If he’d spiked it, it wouldn’t have been with a love potion. More likely we’d be throwing up, or our eyes would’ve melted or something.”

“Ten points from Gryffindor,” Snape said smoothly.

“What for?” protested Harry.

“Because I hate you. Good enough reason?”

Harry glowered, then smirked and asked, “How was the hospital wing?”

Snape grumbled something rude under his breath, then turned and stormed off to Dumbledore’s office. He got there, went up the moving stairs, and knocked on the door. “Come in!” called Dumbledore jovially. Snape entered the office to find Dumbledore at his desk, scribbling on some papers. Oddly enough, it looked like he was drawing dance steps.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” asked Snape.

“Yes indeed, Severus, yes indeed. I was wondering how you were doing, after that…unpleasantness.” He waved his hand vaguely.

“Oh. I’m fine.”

“Madam Pomfrey informed me that you’ve set a school record, injury-wise. Let me be the first to congratulate you.”

Snape grunted noncommittally.

“Anyway,” continued Dumbledore, “Since you missed a couple days of school, I thought I’d get you back up to speed.”

“What?”

“It’s now Tuesday evening.” Dumbledore chuckled at Snape’s incredulous expression. It takes more than one day to mend that many bones, Severus.”

Snape stared. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, quite. Remember, I’ve been conscious for more of the time.”

Snape looked uncharacteristically stunned.

“Feel free to sit down,” said Dumbledore, gesturing at the chair in front of his desk.

Snape sat, and asked, “What about my classes? I don’t trust the students alone for five minutes, much less two days.”

“Oh, don’t worry, we got a substitute.”

“Who?” asked Snape, fearing he knew the answer already.

“Professor Arbitrare.”

Snape let out a groan and banged his head on the desk.

“Please refrain from doing that,” said Dumbledore. “Relax, Severus, I’m sure nothing too terrible happened.”

Snape sat up abruptly. “Relax? How am I supposed to relax when there’s a homicidal maniac in my classroom?”

“Oh, he’s not a homicidal maniac. A tad eccentric, yes, but aren’t we all.”

“He’s tried to kill me at least twice in the past week.”

“Severus, I doubt it’s as bad as all that. Just go down to your class, and I’m sure you’ll find everything in order.”

“I’m sure I won’t,” Snape muttered as he stood up and headed for the door.

“One last thing, Severus,” Dumbledore said. Snape looked back. “Can I borrow your CD player?”

“No.” Snape grumbled some more as he left the office and headed down the many staircases to his classroom. This was a very grumbley day.

Snape had just walked into the entrance hall when somebody jumped out from nowhere with a loud “Hello!” Snape whipped around, wand pointed at the noisemaker, which turned out to be the author.

“Oh, it’s just you,” said Snape, tucking his wand back inside his robes. “What do you want?”

“Now is that any way to treat one of your biggest fans? Especially since you’ve basically taken over this story.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, at the beginning you were just the typically snarky git, but now you’re essentially the protagonist.”

“Oh goody.”

“Indeed. Now, to answer your question about what I want: I want to give you this.” The author dramatically held up a spoon.

“What good is that to me?” said Snape, taking the utensil, nonetheless.

“Oh, trust me, you’ll need it. Well, ta!” And with that the author vanished in a puff of smoke accompanied by coughing.

Snape looked suspiciously at the spoon in his hand, then again started down to the dungeons. He stalked down the dank hall, first to his office. He cautiously opened the door a bit and poked his head in. Nothing out of order there, Snape gave a premature sigh of relief.

I say premature because he hadn’t seen his classroom yet.

Snape headed back to the Potions classroom, hoping that maybe, just maybe, Arbitrare hadn’t destroyed anything. But there was a strange smell that grew more and more pungent with every step Snape took, and the ground was jiggling ominously. He was about to put his hand on the doorknob when the door itself shuddered and flew open.

Snape jumped back, out of the way of the deluge of dark brown goo that flooded out of the room. The brown stuff finally slowed to a gentle ooze, carrying on top of it a rather messy and stunned looking Arbitrare.

“Ouch,” he muttered as he got to his feet, slipping a bit in the muck. “I wasn’t expecting it to do that.” He started trying to wipe the stuff off his robes.

“What did you do to my classroom?” Snape asked dangerously.

“Nothing!” said Arbitrare innocently. “I was just trying to teach, and well, you know how it is with Potions, a lot of accidents occur, and the next thing I know it goes berserk, and well, here we are.” He grinned pathetically and gestured at the mess around him.

Snape stared coldly. “Right.”

“Yep. Glad you understand.” Arbitrare’s grin turned malevolent. “On a different note, how is Snape this fine evening?”

“Rather perturbed, actually.”

“And why is that, though I think I know the answer?”

“Oh, let’s see,” Snape started snidely (nice alliteration). “After trying to poison the entire school, you nearly killed me, again, and now you’ve wrecked my classroom.” He took a threatening step forward. “Do you know how hard it is to keep that room in order with all the inept students I have? I really don’t need you to help create more chaos.”

“Aw, poor Snape, he’s so put upon. You know what would cheer you up?” Arbitrare bent down and scooped some of the goo into a dish. “Some pudding!”

“I don’t want any pudding,” said Snape, teeth clenched.

“Are you sure? It comes with whipped topping…”

“No! That’s beside the point anyway. Why are you making pudding in a Potions class?”

“Well, the students told me what they had been making, and since I didn’t know how to do it, and I thought it sounded boring, I decided we’d make pudding instead! Though I think the growth potion might have been a bit much.”

“What?”

“I added a growth potion to the pudding mix! You don’t get this much pudding without a shortcut of some kind.”

Snape just stared. “You’re a complete imbecile, I hope you know that,” he finally said.

“Hey now, there’s no need for name calling. Don’t tell me you’ve never made a mess with any of your potions.”

“I’ve never made pudding instead of a potion.”

“Maybe you should, then you’d have more fun with life.”

“You know what would be fun? Putting you in detention. Here,” Snape shoved the spoon he’d been given into Arbitrare’s hands, then grabbed him by the back of his collar and dragged him into the classroom. “Your first duty is to clean up all of this,” he gestured at the puddle of pudding covering the floor, “with that.” He pointed to the spoon. Snape then swept over to the door. He turned, said, “Enjoy,” and left, slamming the door shut behind him.

---

Yays! Chappie ten! I’m so happy to have gotten this far. Are you so happy that I did? Show your appreciation, irritation, consternation, constipation (er, actually, keep that to yourself) by reviewing! Until next time, dear readers!

A/N: Well here we are friends, chapter eleven. I promise that no one will go broke while reading this. But you will find many Public Service Announcements (and abundant parentheses), since this chappie’s all about safety. So get that thing out of your nose, and read!

For your information, this chappie was sponsored by Dr Pepper (my hero) and oatmeal chocolate chip cookies.

---

Double Potions wasn’t nearly as bad as usual lately. Oh, the assignments were getting nastier and nastier and Snape was still snide about what the students were turning in, but the class had gotten funnier. The students enjoyed sliding on the residual pudding mess from when Arbitrare had substituted, and would occasionally throw the stuff at each other. They also enjoyed watching Arbitrare, who could often be found in a corner scooping up said pudding mess with a spoon.

This day was no different, with Arbitrare on his hands and knees, trying to gather up a last runny little bit of pudding. Snape was standing over him, making sure he got everything.

“Come on,” Snape was saying as the pudding slipped off Arbitrare’s spoon. “I want to be able to eat off of that floor. Or better yet,” he smirked evilly, “for you to eat off of.”

“Would you like me to lick it off?” Arbitrare asked angrily. “Look, I’m licking it!” He threw down the spoon and started slurping the floor.

Snape shrugged. “Whatever works for you.”

At their table in the back, the trio watched this escapade unfold. “That really is pathetic,” Harry said.

“Well, he kind of had coming to him,” said Hermione, watching Arbitrare drag his tongue across the stone floor.

Harry and Ron stared at her. Hermione, the ultimate patron of the annoying, repressed, and annoyingly repressed, wasn’t outraged by this? The world seemed to have gone mad (“well, duh,” you say).

“You feeling alright?” asked Ron, who had paused his attempted slicing (he’s still caught in a finger trap, remember) of bat spleens to stare at Hermione.

“Of course I am,” replied Hermione, a little impatiently. “It’s just Arbitrare’s always doing such stupid things; he’s worse than half the students. It was only a matter of time before it caught up to him.”

Harry and Ron kept staring. Ron dropped his knife. “Who are you, and what have you done with Hermione?” he asked.

“Don’t be stupid, Ron, just finish cutting those spleens. Harry, stop eating anchovies and stir. I don’t want to fail this assignment on account of you two gawking.”

Harry and Ron did as they were told (Hermione had duct tape, after all), and soon the bell rang and they turned in a sample of their potion and went to lunch.

Since lunch was boring and nothing funny (well, funnier than usual) happened, we’ll jump forward to Defense Against the Dark Arts.

The class had started and Arbitrare hadn’t arrived. The students sat and chatted, flipped through their books, and put some finishing touches on the assignment due that day. After about ten minutes of this, Parvati said, “Should we just get started without Professor Arbitrare?”

“I think we should give him five more minutes, then we get to leave,” said Seamus. Hermione looked disapprovingly over the top of her book.

It was then that Arbitrare finally showed up. He staggered into the room, looking sick and with his tongue hanging out. He continued staggering to the front of the room, then said, tongue still out, “I’m neber doin tha agin.”

The class stared. “Er, what?” said Harry.

“Weh, you know I’s clen Snab’s oom, an I gol fustated an lid la flow clen. Then ih occuh domee tha I’d hafda puh my ton bah ih my mouh sontine.”

The class kept staring. “What?” Harry said again.

“Looh, jus,” Arbitrare waved his hand and turned to the chalkboard. He grabbed some chalk and wrote, “Practice your non-verbal spells while I go boil my tongue.” He then stalked back out of the room.

“You don’t think he really means that?” asked Hermione, staring after Arbitrare.

“I dunno, maybe,” said Ron, getting out his wand. He grinned at Hermione. “I thought you didn’t like him anyway.”

---

Snape swept up some stairs and down a hall. Dumbledore had called him to his office. It was rather important, the headmaster had said. It had better be, thought Snape. He didn’t trust his classes alone for more than five minutes.

Snape reached the moving staircase leading to Dumbledore’s office. He swiftly climbed the stairs and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” called Dumbledore. Snape entered the room saying, “I hope this really is important, sir, because I just left my classroom in the possession of pyromaniac third years.”

“Ah, Severus, glad you could come. I assure you that you shall be back before your class immolates.” It was then that Snape saw that Dumbledore had been talking to someone else before he got there. “This is Violet Shunn, she’s a Ministry safety inspector. She’s come to give the school a thorough look-over to make sure all our students are safe.”

Snape glanced over at her. She was rather young, a bit too young to be a Ministry appointed inspector, Snape thought. She had blonde hair and glasses, but she looked over the top of her glasses in a very McGonagall-ish way that made Snape sure she did her job, unfortunately, incredibly well.

“Miss Shunn was just about to start her inspection,” continued Dumbledore.

“Perhaps I should start with your class, Professor,” she said, eyeing Snape.

“A wonderful idea!” said Dumbledore happily. “Start from the bottom up. Severus, why don’t you show her the way?”

Snape forced a smile. “Certainly, if I may speak with you for a moment, Headmaster.”

“Absolutely. Miss Shunn, we’ll only be a moment.” Dumbledore smiled politely. The inspector gave them both an odd look and left.

As soon as she was out the door, the plastered-on smiles disappeared from both the men’s faces. Snape turned to Dumbledore and whispered angrily, “Why on earth am I getting stuck with this? I already have enough to do.”

“I know, but it’s a routine check, I can’t do anything.”

“Since when did the Ministry start doing safety inspections?”

“Just now as far as I know, but she can’t find anything too heinous.”

“In this school? Are you insane?”

“Hmm. Well, I’m sure we can come up with something.”

“Like what?”

“Perhaps a bribe?”

“There’s not enough gold in all of Gringotts…” muttered Snape as he left the office.

---

Snape stood, arms folded, in the shadows at the back of the class as the safety inspector wandered around making occasional notes on a clipboard. The inspection wasn’t going very well. The students were too busy gawking at the stranger in the room to make their potions correctly, and several small fires had broken out.

The inspector made another note on her clipboard, then wandered to the back of the class where Snape was. “I’m finished with this room, Professor, you may take your class back.” She then strode to the door, and as she was leaving said, “And I can show myself around the castle, thank you very much.”

Snape rolled his eyes and muttered some unpleasantries under his breath. He couldn’t be gladder to be rid of the stupid inspector. He was just about to take control of the class once again (they had now succeeded in melting a small hole in the stone floor), when a horrible, sinking thought struck him. If Shunn were to inspect the whole school, she would have to look in every room on every floor, including the dungeons people thought were empty. Snape turned and bolted.

It always seems to happen that when you’re trying to get somewhere before someone else, someone who has a head start on you, that you always get there after them, and usually right at the beginning of a rather unfortunate conversation and/or discovery.

Such was the case with Snape. He ran down the hall and came skidding to a stop in the doorway of one of the dungeons, but too late. The inspector had already found what was inside and had started talking to it.

“My good man, what are you doing sitting on the floor?” she asked incredulously.

“I’m wallowing in despondency,” replied Arbitrare.

“Well, why are you- good heavens, what are you eating?!”

Aribtrare swallowed hard. “Bad potions assignments.”

The inspector was in shock. “Why on earth would you do that?!”

“Snape’s making me eat all these failing potions assignments as part of my detention.” He waved his spoon at a great deal of flasks, vials, and jars behind him.

The inspector rounded on Snape. “What makes you think you have any right to do this?” she asked angrily.

Snape didn’t blink. “He’s in detention. The person in detention has to do what the teacher or other authority figure they’re serving with says. Those are the rules; if you don’t like it, take it up with Dumbledore. Though I should warn you that the rules are more set here than even the headmaster.”

“I don’t think the rules say that one teacher can put another in detention.”

Snape shrugged. “True enough. However,” he smirked slightly, “that’s hardly a safety violation, is it?”

The inspector could only scowl. Arbitrare said, “Ooh, snap.”

Finally, Shunn spoke. “I’m going to go through this entire school,” she started threateningly, “and write down anything, anything, that comes even close to being a safety violation. If your classroom is any indication, I should find more than enough to close this school forever.”

“I don’t doubt that,” muttered Snape.

“What was that?”

“Oh, nothing. Well, I suppose I should let you be on your way.” Snape moved to the side of the doorway, looking like a gentleman. As the inspector passed him, Snape added, “Oh, and do be careful. It would be quite awful if a staircase vanished out from under you.”

The inspector, picking up on the not-so-subtle sarcasm, marched off down the hall. Snape looked down at Arbitrare. “What are you staring at? Finish up all this.” He slammed the door.

---

It was once again time for Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Arbitrare was once again quite late. After the usual debate of whether the class could leave or not, Arbitrare stumbled in, looking incredibly green. He got to the front of the room and muttered, “Sorry…to…be late…” He swayed on the spot. “Was…eating crap…for Snape…”

“Are you all right, Professor?” asked Hermione.

“I don’t think so…” Arbitrare said pensively. Then all the color, green or otherwise, drained from his face and he fell right over.

There were gasps from the class and everyone stood up to get a better look. “Someone needs to get Madam Pomfrey!” said Hermione. All this got was people looking away from her and whistling.

“Oh, honestly!” She shot a furious look at Harry and Ron and stormed from the room.

“Why is it always our fault?” grumbled Ron.

---

Snape had once again assumed his position in a dark corner in the back of a room with his arms folded. He was starting to think he should take a summer job as a bouncer.

This time the room he was standing in was Dumbledore’s office, and he was watching the safety inspector attempt to berate the headmaster on running a deathtrap.

“I found 413 violations on just one floor,” she was saying while flipping pages on her clipboard, “and no less than 100 on any of the other floors.”

Dumbledore took it all in, nodding politely. “Continue,” he said.

“The grand total for violations is 1,782.” She looked up from the clipboard. “That’s enough for me to not only close this school, but to raze it to the ground and salt the earth.”

“Interesting.” Dumbledore steepled his long fingers. “I think you’ll find, however, that this school will stay open no matter what you think you’ve found wrong with it.”

The inspector’s jaw dropped. “You cannot be serious.”

“I’m afraid I am. You see, this school is home to our students; we can’t just send them packing like this. Besides, it’s good life training. If you can avoid the pitfalls here, then you can avoid them anywhere.”

The inspector shook her head. “You’re insane, Dumbledore.”

“I suggest you watch your tone,” said Snape dangerously.

“You’re more insane than he is! Why are you even here, anyway?”

“To fill his ubiquity requirement for the day,” replied Dumbledore. “Please be courteous, Severus. You were saying, Miss Shunn?”

“I was saying you’re insane for keeping this place open, and I’m going to send this report to the Ministry-“

“Oh, we’ll never be shut down then,” said Snape.

“Manners, Severus,” admonished Dumbledore.

“I’m sending this report to the Ministry,” Shunn repeated, a bit louder this time, “and Hogwarts will be closed and that’s-“ She got cut off by a large piece of the ceiling falling on her. Dumbledore and Snape both quickly looked up.

The author’s head poked through the new hole. “Whoops.”

Dumbledore looked back down at Snape. “Well, that’s terribly ironic, don’t you think?”

---

Tada! Chappie eleven! It ended up being a bit long; I think it’s the second longest chapter here. But hey, it was totally worth it. Show your thoughts, ideas, problems, points, power points, potassium, and other such things by reviewing! It makes me feel good to get good reviews, it makes you feel good to get my responses, so everyone’s a winner! Also: kudos to who can guess the pun in the inspector's name!

A/N: A question, dear readers. Have you ever gotten a magazine that was so full of those little inserts that tell you to subscribe to every other magazine put out by your magazine’s publisher that you can’t turn the pages of your magazine and so in frustration you shake your magazine until all those little inserts are gone and your magazine is now about half as thick as it was to start with? Nah, it hasn’t happened to me either. I have gotten magazines with one or two inserts that prevent me from reading the page I’m on or turning the page successfully, but since I’m neurotic I have to put them back in where I found them.

Anyway, since this author’s note is threatening to consume us all, I will jump to our sponsors. This chappie was sponsored by really cheap Super-sized drinks and some new music I got that I have added to my awesome playlist of greatness. If I ever do take over the world, it will be with that list.

---

Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat in their usual squashy armchairs by the fire in the Gryffindor common room, reading. They had been doing homework, but after Hermione had insisted that they go over their Transfiguration essays again Ron and Harry had both threatened to set fire to the table in protest.

So they were reading instead. Each had a periodical in their hands; Ron was reading People Caught in Fingertaps Monthly, Harry was checking out Penguins with Paper Bags Over Their Heads Weekly, and Hermione was perusing Intelligent Duct Tape Talk. All three were looking quite content with their magazines, and in fact they had gotten quite far into them when Hermione suddenly looked puzzled and stared at the cover of hers.

Harry glanced up from the article he was reading. “All right there, Hermione?” he asked.

Hermione didn’t answer. She just kept staring at the cover. Then she suddenly gasped and shouted at the other two, “Put those magazines down!” She ripped said magazines out of the boys’ hands and threw them on the table.

“Hey, I was reading that!” protested Ron. “I was in the middle of an article about the best ways to get fingertraps off!”

“Don’t you think,” said Hermione, pulling her wand out of her pocket, “that it’s a bit too convenient for these magazines to be here? I mean, have you ever heard of such ridiculous titles?”

“But they’re perfect for us!” said Harry.

“A bit too perfect. Have you ever met another penguin with a paper bag over their head?”

“Er, no…”

“Exactly. And as far as I know, Hogwarts doesn’t take any magazines, much less puts them out for students. I think these were planted here.”

“How?” asked Ron incredulously.

“I think it was the Power of Suggestion.”

Harry and Ron groaned. “Are you still on about that?” asked Ron. “It’s totally random, Hermione! You make it sound like it’s stalking us.”

“It might be,” said Hermione conspiratorially. “After all, a lot of the strange occurrences around here have happened to us or involved us somehow. I don’t think the spell’s random at all; it just seems that way. Whoever cast the spell could be after us.”

“Uh, Hermione?” interjected Harry. “It’s a random spell. No one casts it.”

“Are you sure about that? Look at the magazines again.”

Harry and Ron looked at the table and their jaws dropped. The magazines had changed. The pictures on the front were different, and the titles had changed to Quirky Side Characters Insider. The trio watched as Seamus and Dean wandered up and picked up a couple of copies. Harry and Ron continued to look amazed as Neville came over and rifled through the stack until he found one magazine called Monkey Managers and Royalty. One of the article blurbs on the cover read, “101 tips to keep your minions happy!”

“Buh?” said Harry.

“You see?” Hermione gave them a triumphant look. “I’m right, I know it! I found some books in the library describing the Power of Suggestion, they all say it’s a pointlessly chaotic spell that is only cast to wreak havoc and annoy everyone it comes in contact with.”

“That sounds like Dark magic, that does,” said Ron.

“Oh it’s not Dark,” explained Hermione, “it’s just stupid. The only people who cast it are usually as strange as the spell. And I think I know who that might be.”

“Who?” gasped Harry and Ron.

“I’ll give you a hint: who else has been most affected by the spell?”

“Well,” said Harry, thinking. “Snape, but…” His eyes suddenly widened. “You think-?”

“I do,” said Hermione grimly.

“Wait, who?” asked Ron.

“Honestly, Ron, don’t be so thick.” Ron still looked confused, so Hermione sighed and said, “Look, just come with us. Unless you want to stay with them?” She gestured to the others in common room. Most everyone had a magazine, though they weren’t reading them, more staring at them with glazed expressions and drool running down their faces.

“Er, no, I’ll come with you guys,” said Ron quickly.

---

Meanwhile, Snape (oh come on, you didn’t think I’d forget about him?) was sitting in his office, reading. He had been grading homework, but it got so tedious that he was about to set fire to his desk when he saw the magazine. He was now enjoying a periodical entitled Potion Aficionados and Dark Arts Enthusiasts Magazine. He was glancing through and found a rather interesting article about a potion that, when it was done, melted through the cauldron it was in and took on sentient life, oozing along the floor and sucking off the little plastic casings from the tips of people’s shoelaces (those are called aglets, in case you were wondering).

Snape was looking for the instructions to make this potion when something struck him as odd. He glanced back at the cover. Potion Aficionados and Dark Arts Enthusiasts Magazine. He’d heard of Potion Aficionados Magazine, he’d heard of Dark Arts Enthusiasts Magazine (he actually subscribed to both), but he didn’t think they’d combined.

It was as he was thinking this over when something in the picture on the cover caught his attention. The picture was of a sinister looking wizard in a dark room stirring a cauldron, the contents of which were glowing menacingly. The sinister looking wizard would occasionally throw his head back and cackle soundlessly (it’s a picture after all, they don’t make noise). There was one instance where the wizard was laughing when Snape caught a quick glimpse at a second face. The face had a hand by it that was wriggling its fingers in a wave; the face itself had a very obnoxious, very familiar grin, almost as sinister as the other guy on the cover had.

Snape frowned at the cover for a minute, then set the magazine down and stalked out of his office, heading upstairs.

---

“If we hurry, we might catch him,” Hermione was saying, having conveniently just finished explaining a major plot point so that I may keep you, dear readers, hooked in hopes that I might reiterate said plot point.

“But I still don’t understand,” said Ron, jogging along with the other two. “Why would he do something like this? He seemed alright enough.”

“Well, yeah, to start with,” said Harry. “But didn’t you notice how nasty he’d gotten? I didn’t think I’d hate someone who was so nasty to Snape, but he did turn me into a penguin. For that, he’s going down.”

The trio was just tearing around a corner when they saw someone else stalking towards them. It was, of course, Snape. Who else stalks around the castle on a regular basis? Anyway, the four of them met in front of a closed door.

“I should’ve guessed you three would have figured it out,” said Snape. “Or would it be more accurate to say Granger figured it out and Potter and Weasley are just along for the ride?”

“Hey!” Harry and Ron objected.

“Well, it’s true,” said Hermione. “Professor, we know who’s behind the Power of Suggestion, we were just about to-“

“To what? Confront him yourselves?” Snape smirked and shook his head. “You three would get beaten rather soundly. Take it from someone who dueled him before.” He turned and opened the door.

The four of them entered the room, wands drawn. Nobody else was inside. Half a jar of Bertie Bott’s Every-Flavor Beans was on top of a shelf. Some papers were lying out on the desk. As they approached the desk, Snape glanced down at the papers.

There was a magazine there. On one page a crossword puzzle was partially filled out. On the opposite page a hand drawn picture depicted a penguin, whose head was exploding. A wide mouthed figure in a fingertrap was standing next to the penguin. The caption under the picture read, “One day Harry Potter and his friend Ron Weasley were walking down the halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, when suddenly Harry's head exploded. Ron said, "OMG!"

“There’s a giant hole under the desk!” Hermione announced. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice it before!”

“Why’s that?” asked Ron.

“Well, it kind of sticks out the front,” said Harry, pointing. A rather obvious gaping pit opened up under the desk so widely that it was a miracle the desk itself didn’t fall in.

“He must have escaped down there,” said Hermione pensively.

“And you want us to follow him,” said Harry, guessing the obvious.

“Why do we always end up sliding down dark holes?” asked Ron.

“Well let’s go then,” said Hermione. “Professor?”

“Women and children first,” said Snape without looking up from the desk.

The trio exchanged glances, then slid down the hole one after the other.

Snape, in his examination of the desk, found a rather interesting note half-hidden under the magazine and a couple other pieces of parchment. Reading it, Snape smirked humorlessly. He then slid it into a pocket of his robes and followed the trio down the hole.

This is what the note said:

Arbitrare’s Enemies List

1. Snape. Snarky git. I’ll get him one of these days…
2. The trio (Harry, Ron, and Hermione). I’ll get them too, since they’re so hideously suspicious.
3. McGonagall. Put me in detention, will you?
4. The National Quidditch League. They’ll get off the list when they give me my money back.
5. Dumbledore. Making me promise to behave… If he hadn’t Snape would be long gone.
6. The Weird Sisters. Just because I pointed out they’re men they don’t have to ban me from all their venues.
7. Cabbage. Just, eww.

Well, it’s not ten, but that just goes to prove I’m that much nicer than Snape.

---

*Gasp!* The end of chappie twelve! And now we know… Send your opinions, onions, positions, petitions, plebeians, and other feelings by way of reviews! In case you were wondering, the word “magazine,” or close variations thereof, occurs twenty-six times, including author’s notes and the title. And kudos to my brother/beta-tester for the caption in Arbitrare’s magazine (twenty-seven).

A/N: Dun dun DUN! It’s chappie thirteen! Oooooh… *Thunder and lightning* If you are triskadecaphobic, claustrophobic, or whatever phobia is being afraid of the dark, please take several deep breaths now. I don’t really need any twitching in the aisles while you’re reading this (think of the lawsuits!). Oh, and if you’re allergic to plotlines manifesting themselves, please take an anti-histamine now.

Anyway, this chapter was sponsored by minty fresh gum and a CD I bought last week and haven’t found the time to listen to until I was writing this (it is now on my fantastic playlist). Enjoy!

---

“AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!”

Ron really was never a fan of sliding down dark tunnels. Giant snakes do that to you.

“SHRIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!!!!!!!!!”

Hermione wasn’t faring much better than Ron. Having one arm inoperable really did make sliding down dark tunnels awkward.

“QUAAAAAAAAAAAACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Harry, in contrast, was having a blast. His penguin instincts had taken over, and as we all know penguins are very talented at sliding.

“Left…right…another left…another left, what is it with lefts? I’ll bet we come out in the Charms wing…”

Snape lives in the dungeons. He’s been eaten by a Crumple Horned Snorkack. There is no way he’s afraid of dark tunnels. The man is taking notes, for crying out loud.

They slid along for a while longer, and then they started slowing down. They were going up.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Ron called out. He ran into a wall for an answer. Then Hermione smashed into him, followed closely by Harry. “Ouch…”

“Where are we? Why’d we stop?” said Harry.

“I suspect,” said Snape, lighting his wand, “We’ve hit a dead end.”

“When did he get here?!”

“Right after you. I just have the sense to not run headlong into walls.”

Before Harry could retaliate, Ron said, “Where do we go from here? I don’t see anyway out.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Look up, Ron.”

He did as instructed, and saw a circle of light far overhead. “Oh. Well, how do we reach it?”

“The ladder.”

“What ladder?” He looked at the wall he ran into and saw a ladder there. “Oh. Stop making me look stupid, Hermione.”

“I would if it weren’t so easy to do.”

“Hey-“

“Anyway,” said Harry loudly before the other two could start arguing, “I’m voting we go up the ladder.” And he started climbing. Ron and Hermione followed, scowling at each other. Snape wondered how the three of them had managed to not kill each other over the years, and climbed after them.

Harry reached the top of the ladder and cautiously poked his head out of the hole. He’d stuck his head into a Charms lesson. The hole was covered with the pile of cushions used when practicing Summoning and Banishing Charms.

“Hey,” he whispered down into the hole, knocking off the cushion that had been perched on top of his head. “Check this out!”

Ron and Hermione reached the top of the ladder too, and looked out.

“Blimey,” said Ron.

“Do you realize we could be disrupting class?” Hermione said. “Think of the consequences!”

“No one seems to have noticed us,” said Harry.

Snape appeared behind them. “Are you going to leave the hole, or are we having too much fun gawking?”

“How many people can fit on this ladder?” asked Ron incredulously.

“I suspect several more,” answered Snape, irritated. “Now, move.”

“But we can’t interrupt class…” said Hermione, sounding nervous.

“What part of ‘move’ don’t you three understand?”

“Alright, don’t get your cloak in a bunch,” said Harry.

“Five points from Gryffindor. And if you don’t move in the next two seconds, it will be fifty.”

“Isn’t that line a rip-off of one he had in book three?” whispered Ron to Harry as they stepped off the ladder and started wading through cushions.

“Book three?”

“Er, sorry, year three.”

“Probably. I’ve personally stopped listening to what Snape says.”

“Well, you should listen,” Hermione butted in. “Never mind the fact that he’s a teacher, but he’s vicariously saved all of our necks about eight times over the years.”

“Huh?” said Ron.

“He’s never saved us from anything!” said Harry.

“I said vicariously. Like how Expelliarmus saved you from Voldemort, and the first time you heard the spell was when Snape used it?”

Harry paused, his mouth open. “That doesn’t count.”

“I said vicariously!”

“What does that even mean?” asked Ron.

“Again, what part of ‘move’ don’t you three understand?” Snape had his wand out now.

“We’re moving,” said Hermione, shoving Harry and Ron.

The trio moved as stealthily as they could. This didn’t really work, as ducking behind desks in a commando-like fashion made them rather conspicuous. Snape rubbed his temple and swept after them.

“Um, hello?” squeaked Flitwick from the front of the room.

Snape turned. “Excuse us, Filius. The dream team’s on a vengeance strike and need an escort.”

“If you mean they’re after Arbitrare, good for them. He just passed through here and glued my hat to my head.”

“I see. There’s some solvent in my desk, if you need it. It might also interest you to know that there is a large hole in your floor under the cushion pile.”

“I know, and I can’t do a thing about it. It’s a plot hole.”

“That explains a lot,” mused Snape as he followed the trio out of the room.

The Charms corridor was deserted. Harry was looking left, Ron was looking right, and Hermione was looking both ways.

“There’s nothing here,” said Harry.

“Nothing this way, either,” said Ron.

“Arbitrare had to have come this way,” said Hermione. “So where is he?”

Snape sighed. “Try looking straight ahead.”

The other three looked at the wall opposite. There was a large neon sign reading, “To Get To Secret Hideout: Stand Here!” Below that was an arrow pointing at the floor.

“Oh. Right,” said Ron. “I’m getting tired of looking stupid.”

“But it comes so naturally to you.” Snape smirked, then started off down the hall.

“Where are you going?” asked Harry rudely.

Snape turned. “For backup.” Then he was gone.

The trio stared after him. “What a git,” Ron finally said.

“No one agrees with you more than me,” said Harry. “Anyway, ignoring the pointless cryptic comments, what’s with the sign?”

“Well, mate, I’d guess we stand here.” Ron stepped resolutely up to the spot of floor under the sign.

“I’d figured that much out,” Harry snapped back, standing on the spot, too.

“But why do we stand here?” asked Hermione. She pulled out her wand and started tapping the wall and sign with it.

“I dunno,” said Ron. They stood there, Ron trying to tug his fingers out of the fingertrap, Harry adjusting the bag over his head, and Hermione looking at the wall with a puzzled expression. Then the floor opened up and they fell into another hole.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

They slid further and further, faster and faster, then landed with a thud in a tangled heap on a cold stone floor.

“No more dark tunnels!” yelled Ron from the floor. “I’m officially sick and tired of slipping and sliding with no free hands to brace myself and landing with resounding thuds and thumps! My spine won’t stand for it! Who’s with me?!”

“I would be, but your foot’s in my face,” Harry said in a muffled voice.

“I’ll second as soon as you get your pinky out of my eye,” said Hermione.

“Oh, sorry.” The three of them struggled to pull themselves apart. Eventually, they all were standing and brushing themselves off.

“So where are we?” asked Harry, looking around.

“It looks like one of the dungeons,” said Hermione. Sure enough, they were in one of the dark, dank rooms in the basement of the school. But not just any dungeon.

“Hey, there’s the student supply cupboard,” said Ron. “And there are still cauldrons out!”

They were in Snape’s dungeon classroom.

“Look!” gasped Hermione. She was pointing to the front of the room. There was no longer had a blackboard there; instead a large opening led into a tunnel that went straight forward so far that they couldn’t see more than ten feet into it. The sound of organ music was floating on a cold draft towards them.

“No more dark tunnels!” groaned Ron.

“It’s level, Ron, we won’t be doing any more sliding,” said Hermione reasonably.

“Well, alright…” They all lit their wands and followed the music.

---

Meanwhile, Snape had gone straight to the headmaster’s office. He knocked on the door and entered. McGonagall was already there, standing with arms folded and looking terse.

“I assume there’s a good reason I’m here, Albus?” she asked.

“But of course, Minerva,” he said. “It seems the regular trio has gone after the source of our troubles. And Severus will show us the way.”

“They’re in the Charms corridor,” said Snape.

“Very well, then.” Dumbledore jumped to his feet and pointed dramatically. “To the Charms corridor! The golden trio will shine!”

“Have you been in the candy again, Albus?” asked McGonagall, eyeing him shrewdly.

“No…”

**SCENE CHANGE!**

“Well, they were in the Charms corridor,” muttered Snape. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were, of course, gone.

“Was there another secret passage?” asked McGonagall.

“There was one by this stretch of wall. There was a sign saying to stand here.” Said stretch of wall was now blank.

“Well, there’s no sign now.”

“Maybe there’s something here still…” Snape started running his hand over the wall.

McGonagall came over. “There’s nothing there, Severus.”

“No, I’m sure there’s something…”

“Why don’t we try what the sign said,” interjected Dumbledore, “and all stand here?”

So they tried it. Snape was scowling, McGonagall was looking skeptical, and Dumbledore was smiling and twiddling his thumbs. Then the floor opened up and the fell in a hole in the floor. They fell further and further, faster and faster, then slowed. They landed on their feet with a soft thump.

“What was that?” asked Snape.

“Don’t you remember that Quidditch match when I caught Harry from however many feet in the air after he fell off his broom?” said Dumbledore with a smile.

“Unfortunately.”

“Isn’t this your classroom, Severus?” asked McGonagall, glancing around.

“It is…” Then he saw the hole. Snape’s jaw dropped, then he swore very, very loudly. And kept swearing.

“Severus, really, there’s a lady present,” said Dumbledore.

“After teaching for thirty-something years, you get used to it,” McGonagall sighed. “He actually was worse in his seventh year, you know.”

“Well, let’s get going. That tunnel won’t traverse itself!” Dumbledore lit his wand and struck off, McGonagall and the still-swearing Snape following closely after.

---

“Did you hear that?” Hermione looked over her shoulder and squinted into the darkness behind them.

“Hear what?” asked Harry.

“That!”

“The music?” asked Ron.

“No, that…” Hermione turned and took a tentative step. “It sounds like a long string of expletives…”

“We can’t worry about that now,” said Harry. “Let’s keep going…”

They traversed the tunnel for a few more minutes, then Ron complained, “How much farther is it? This tunnel goes forever!” As he finished his sentence, he walked into a door. “Argh, not again…”

It was a wonder he hadn’t noticed the door; it was enormous, and there were two of them. They were a good thirty feet tall, made of stone and elaborately carved (simply because it looks cool when doors are elaborately carved).

Harry and Hermione gaped at the door while Ron rubbed his forehead. With a deafening grinding noise, the doors slowly swung inward. After a bit, they stopped. Harry said, “Let’s go.”

They stepped into a huge and cavernous, well, cavern. It was lit by many torches along the walls and candle-filled chandeliers hanging by chains from the ceiling. Harry wondered how they stayed lit; there was water dripping from the many stalactites and he thought they might be under the lake. A good way along the wall to their left was a massive pipe organ, a figure hunched at the layers of keyboards.

“Well, at least we know where the music’s coming from,” said Ron.

The figure stopped banging on the keyboards. The music kept playing. He pulled out a tape player and pushed a button down. The music stopped. He laughed maniacally.

“Well, well, look who’s finally here…” He straightened up and turned dramatically, the cape he was wearing making that cool “whoosh” noise capes make when someone turns dramatically. It was Arbitrare, of course, that much they could tell from the half of his face they could see. The other half was covered by a mask straight out of Phantom of the Opera. “You took your own sweet time to get here,” he continued.

“Well, we kind of had to, what with all those stupid tunnels,” said Ron angrily.

“What’s with the mask?” Harry had to ask.

“Well, when Miss Granger made the foolish mistake of saving me from Snape’s attempted poisoning, I was fine internally, but I was left horribly disfigured. See for yourselves!” He ripped his mask off.

“You look fine to me.”

“What?!” Arbitrare whipped a small mirror out of nowhere at looked at his reflection.

“Curse you, Madam Pomfrey! Oh well, at least I’ve still got my wonderful looks.” He flipped his hair arrogantly.

“I don’t think saving someone’s life is foolish!” said Hermione defensively.

“Saving his life was,” muttered Ron. “Anyway, we’re here to beat the crap out of him right?”

Arbitrare smiled evilly. “Really? Why would you do that, when I can get you out of that fingertrap?”

Ron’s face lit up. “You can?”

“No, Ron!”

“It’s a trick!”

“Well, duh,” said Arbitrare. “But a liberating trick. You just put your fingertips together, then pull your fingers back real quick like. Voila.”

Ron tried it a couple times, and then his fingers came free. “Woo hoo! You didn’t think I could do it, but I did! See, no more fingertrap!” He waggled his now free index fingers at the other two. “Now I’m gonna take a victory lap around the-“ He ran smack into a very long stalactite and was out cold.

“One down, two to go,” said Arbitrare nastily.

“You can’t stop us!” yelled Harry, as he charged (which is a very funny thing to see a penguin try).

Arbitrare calmly reached into his pocket and produced a can. He turned the key on it, having time to do such since penguins don’t charge very quickly. He held it out, and Harry skidded to a halt. He took it and started to gleefully eat the sardines inside.

Arbitrare then turned to Hermione. “Now you. You may not drop as fast as those two idiots, but I’ve got a plan.”

Hermione stuck her chin out defiantly. “Those two are my friends. And I think you’re bluffing.”

“Am I? Remember, everyone has weaknesses. For example: didn’t I give you that duct tape?”

Hermione gasped and looked down, but too late. The roll of duct tape had taken on a mind of its own and tied her up completely.

Arbitrare chuckled darkly. “See what I mean? Now, keep quiet or I’ll fail you.”

Hermione, who had been struggling against the tape, stopped at once and stayed still.

“Excellent. Now to prepare for round two.” Arbitrare swept back over to the organ and started changing the tape in his player. And then they waited. And waited. And waited some more.

“Where the crap are they?” demanded Arbitrare, checking his watch. “They couldn’t have been that far behind.”

Suddenly, the doors flew open with a bang. “Hold it right there!” yelled Dumbledore.

“There you are!” said Arbitrare. “What, did you guys get lost or something?”

“No, we were having a discussion on what the best way to burst in would be. But now that we’re here, we’ve come to- oh drat.” He glanced around at the tied-up Hermione, unconscious Ron, and preoccupied Harry. “Well, looks like our backup has turned into a rescue squad.”

“Not quite!” said Arbitrare. He held up the tape player and pushed Play. A waltz started up.

“Oh, dear,” said Dumbledore. He grabbed McGonagall and they danced off.

“And you.” Arbitrare turned to Snape and smiled even more evilly.

“The classic arch-nemesis fight. Quaint.” Snape held his wand at the ready.

“No, Severus, stop the music!” shouted Dumbledore from across the cavern. “What do I pay you for?”

“To teach Potions.”

“Oh yes, that’s right.”

“Excuse me!” interjected Arbitrare. “We’re trying to duel!”

“You don’t have a wand to duel with,” pointed out Snape.

“I don’t need one. Not while you have that CD player.”

Snape looked confused. Then he dropped his wand. Then he covered his ears.

Arbitrare laughed maniacally some more. “Let’s see how long it takes for that to be on maximum volume before he goes deaf.”

Snape was now doing his utmost to pull the headphones out of the CD player, but it seemed stuck.

Arbitrare looked around in a satisfied sort of way. “Who knew it would be this easy to throw Hogwarts into complete chaos? Well, I suppose it was already so chaotic anyway, it didn’t have very far to go. But yes, I think I’ll do a bit of premature celebration and have a drink.” He pulled out a glass and filled it with some Firewhiskey. He was about to take a sip when the glass shattered. Arbitrare turned with a snarl.

Snape was pointing his wand at him. In his other hand, Snape had a knife. He’d cut the headphone cord.

“Where’d you get the knife?!”

“I teach Potions, idiot.” Snape threw the knife and hit the tape player. Instantly the music stopped.

“How’d he do that?” Arbitrare said, sounding thoroughly panicked.

“It’s Snape, come on,” said Dumbledore. “What doesn’t he know how to do?” He bowed to McGonagall and drew his wand.

“How about being civil?”

“Well, now that is sort of true, but…No offense, Severus.”

“What?” said Snape, a bit loudly.

“Never mind. Let’s just finish this before any more insanity occurs.”

“That’s what you think!” sneered Arbitrare. “But I have a secret weapon!” He stuck his first two fingers in his mouth and whistled. Soon, the clip-clop of hooves could be heard. And cantering into sight came the Crumple Horned Snorkack.

“Not that thing again…” groaned Snape.

“Don’t worry, I had a plan in case that thing came back,” said McGonagall.

“What?”

“Um, never mind.” She pulled off her hat and yelled, “Monkey, attack!”

Out of the hat jumped one of the flying monkeys who’d shown up a couple chapters ago. It let out an almighty screech and bounded onto the Snorkack’s head, grabbing it by the horns. The Snorkack mooed angrily and started trying to buck the monkey off.

“’Monkey, attack?’” asked Snape incredulously.

“Where’d you get the monkey, Minerva?” asked Dumbledore.

“Longbottom lent him to me to fix up my room after another one of those badger incidents.”

“Ah. Anyway, what shall we do about him?” Dumbledore pointed at Arbitrare, who was now looking nervous, with his wand.

They didn’t really have time to decide what to do, as a very odd chain of events occurred just then. The Snorkack was still bucking, flying monkey still hanging on. In its efforts to get the monkey off, the Snorkack accidentally hit the sardine can Harry was holding, knocking it to the floor. Harry stared at the spilled tin.

“You spilled my sardines…” he whimpered.

“And I say we throw him in the lake,” said Snape.

“You spilled my sardines.”

“Severus, we can’t drown everyone you don’t like,” said Dumbledore reasonably.

“You spilled my sardines!”

“Alright, then let’s tie him up and throw him in a closet.”

“You spilled my sardines!!”

“Well, I suppose that might work…”

“You spilled my sardines!!!”

That finally got their attention. Well, that and the fact that Harry had leapt onto Arbitrare, knocking him to the ground. Sitting on his chest, Harry started slapping Arbitrare silly with his flippers? wings? whatever they’re called on penguins and yelling incoherently.

“I suppose that works,” said Dumbledore happily. “And that tin gives me an idea.” He conjured up a table and some chairs. On the table appeared a plate piled with bagels, some cans of lox, and dishes of cream cheese. “Go and get Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger, Severus; I think it best if we leave Harry to his own devices for the time being.”

“What?” said Snape, a bit loudly.

---

A/N: Whew! There we are, chapter thirteen! And no one was cursed, hopefully! How was our taste of penultima? Man, that thing was mondo. For those who don’t know, mondo in my vernacular means really big and impressive. Also for those who don’t know, I refer to Harry, Ron, and Hermione as just “the trio,” while Dumbledore, Snape, and McGonagall I call “the golden trio.” This is because the golden trio is older, more powerful, and they’re just that rad.

Anydangways, what do we think? Send your thoughts, opinions, feelings, and flayings via reviews!

A/N: Alas, ‘tis the end! The wacky adventures of the Power of Suggestion are coming to a close. This is the final chappie for this story, and while I know you’re all sobbing, please take this handkerchief and try to finish with a brave face.

And for the final chapter, it was sponsored by Dr Pepper, pirates, and all you glorious readers whose mounds of reviews made this bit of psychedelic bedlam possible.

---

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sitting in their usual squashy armchairs by the fire in the Gryffindor common room, writing an essay for Potions. Harry scratched his nose. This would seem like a very stupid sentence except for the fact that up until the previous week, Harry hadn’t had a nose, he’d had a beak.

That’s right, Harry Potter was no longer a penguin.

In fact, no one had any more of their debilitating and/or silly problems. Everything was back to the way it had been before the Power of Suggestion had arrived. So Hogwarts was back to its usual nutty self, rather than being a roiling mass of hysterical chaos. Actually, it was kind of funny how that happened.

The Previous Week!

No-Longer-Professor Arbitrare was standing just inside the large oak front doors of Hogwarts, suitcase in hand. The jinxed DADA position had claimed yet another victim; Arbitrare had agreed to leave in exchange for not being thrown to the giant squid.

“Well, I suppose I’ll take my Snorkack and go,” he said glumly.

“Now hold on,” said Dumbledore. “I want your word that the Power of Suggestion will be gone from our school.”

“Or else,” added Snape.

“Or else what?” Arbitrare snapped back.

“Or else you’ll have to learn to like kalimari.”

“Oh. Right. Well, the spell ends as soon as I leave. By tomorrow morning, everything should be back to normal, whatever that is.”

“I didn’t know a wizard’s mere presence could start a spell,” Snape muttered to Dumbledore.

“Oh it can’t,” explained Dumbledore. “Turns out he’s not technically a wizard. He just makes weird things happen.”

“Then why did you hire him?” asked McGonagall incredulously.

“Well, he pulled a yak out of a top hat. It seemed impressive at the time.”

“Right, anyway,” said Arbitrare. He opened the front door and walked out, but he stopped on the top of the steps and turned dramatically. “Farewell, Hogwarts! I shall never forget your kind courtesy, your dank smelly halls, your-“ He would’ve kept going, except he fell down the steps just then. “Ouch.”

The Snorkack mooed and cantered past him. Arbitrare got up and started dusting himself off.

“You might want this,” said Snape, tossing something out to Arbitrare. It was the jar of Every-Flavor Beans.

“Aw, thanks, Sev.”

“Don’t call me that.” Snape turned on his heel and stalked back inside the castle.

“If you look inside, there’s a special Hogwarts momento for you,” added Dumbledore.

Arbitrare took the lid off the jar and peered inside. “A brick. Cool.”

“Yes indeed! It’s like having Hogwarts with you! I mean, I tried to give you a house elf, but it wouldn’t fit in the jar, so…”

“Albus!” said McGonagall in an appalled tone of voice.

“What?”

“Well, it’s the thought that counts,” said Arbitrare. “Dumbles, McG, it’s been fun.” And he and the Snorkack started down the long drive.

As they were passing under the main gate flanked by the winged boars, Arbitrare said, “Y’know Snorky, I’ve been thinking. Part of the problem with the Power of Suggestion might be the name itself. I mean, look at it this way: if it were going to work, the initials wouldn’t be P.O.S.”

The Snorkack mooed in response.

---

Meanwhile, inside the castle, Hermione was telling Harry and Ron about some research she’d done.

“You see?” she was saying. “Arbitrare isn’t even really a wizard, that’s why he never had a wand! It turns out that he came from another story of the author’s.”

“Exactly!” exclaimed the author, popping out of nowhere. “I’d created Arbitrare for another story, but I needed someone to helm the Power of Suggestion for me, since I wouldn’t be able to run it myself while I was scribing the insanity. So Arbitrare agreed to do it. And I gave him a new name so no one would suspect! His name’s really Arbitrar!”

“You mean you just get rid of the E?” asked Harry.

“That’s stupid,” said Ron.

“Yes it is,” said the author. “And I would’ve gotten away with it if it weren’t for you meddling kids and that dog!”

“What?”

“It’s just an expression.”

---

The next morning dawned bright and sunny, perhaps to illustrate the overall feeling inside the castle.

“Good morning!” called Harry as he sidled, which he could do since he was no longer a penguin, into the Great Hall for breakfast.

“Looking good, mate!” said Ron, pulling a plate of sausages towards him.

“It’s kind of a shame,” said Ginny, sans hook. “I thought he was awfully cute as a penguin.” Ron choked on a sausage.

“Give it a rest, Ron,” said Hermione, thumping Ron on the back with her no longer duct taped arm. Ron coughed a couple times, then managed a “thanks.”

After a swig of orange juice, Ron glanced around the hall. “Looks like everyone else is back to normal too. Ah crap, Malfoy’s back. It would’ve been great if he’d stayed dead.”

“Ron!”

Back To The Present Week It Was At The Beginning Of The Chapter!

Harry sat back and stretched. “I’m tired of doing homework,” he said. “Hey, let’s do something actually in character and go visit Hagrid!”

“Yay!” yelled Ron, throwing his quill in the air (it narrowly avoided stabbing a second year in the eye). Hermione looked disapprovingly at him, then stowed her essay in her bag.

Hagrid was in a good mood about the school returning to normal, but he was a bit disappointed that Arbitrare had taken the Snorkack when he’d left (“If on’y he’d lent ‘im to me fer a couple more lessons!”). The trio tried to look sympathetic, and took some extra rock cakes to make Hagrid feel better.

They were walking down the corridors back to the common room when they heard something large moving behind them. They turned to see that they were being followed by a llama.

“Oh no,” groaned Harry.

---

A/N: Well, there we are, the Power of Suggestion has come to a close, as has the story. And while it is sad, let us not be bogged down in depression, as bogs are smelly. This is a story about laughter, after all! So send your affections, afflictions, comments, coupons, croutons, and others by reviewing! (Pst! If you drop some more ideas, I wouldn’t say no to a sequel…..)