The students of Warthogs school stood behind the long wooden tables. With their hands pressed firmly to their sides, they faced straight forward to the student opposite them. No one dared to breathe too loudly. Each wore black robes, creaseless due to vigorous ironing, and immaculately polished shoes. The boys each had their hair combed straight, not any longer than a centimetre in length, whilst the girls wore their hair in a tight bun so that not one strand touched their faces. Each waited patiently for the headmaster to enter.

The door flung open and harsh footsteps could be heard, pounding on the floor. Nobody dared to move their heads but eyes journeyed to the far end of their sockets, straining to see a glimpse of him. One boy felt a sneeze coming on, tickling at the tip of nose, provoking him to break the monotonous atmosphere.

“Achoo.”

“You are not allowed to sneeze in my school, twenty points from Slytherin,” the headmaster said sternly. He peered through his half-square glasses at him, piercing the boy with his disapproving eyes.

He reached his destination, the top table and the school faculty. The deputy headmistress gave him a courteous nod, this being all she dared to acknowledge him with. Once he had situated himself in front of his central throne, he scanned his eyes around the school. After minutes of contemplation, he was satisfied with the conduct. “You may be seated.”

As their bottoms hit the cold wooden bench, a bowl of porridge appeared before each of the students. The sickly substance was met by many malcontent looks but not one dared to express it too explicitly. The tensions maintained throughout the meal as the braver students picked at the slightly less stodgy parts of their meal, and the less thick-skinned ones simply went without. One Ravenclaw student had unwittingly managed to get the porridge entangled in his hair, too dense to find an answer to his problem, he proceeded to spreading it across his face. The Hufflepuff students were giving each other angry looks and holding their bowls close to one another. They liked only their own company, detested the idea of having to share a bench and table with each other, and trusted nobody.

“Stop it!” one of them squeaked at another. “I know you are trying to hex my porridge, I also know it was you who put itching powder in my bed last night.”

This remark was met with much protest. “And I know it was you who set a Pygmy Puff after me. I still have the bite marks on my toes - do you want to see?”

At that point they were interrupted by the delivery hippos. These humongous beasts trudged into the Hall every morning to deliver the mail, often half devoured before it gets to the receiver.

"Those darn hippos! They come crashing through the walls every morning. Seriously, we need another way of receiving mail!" remarked Harry Potter from the far end of the room. He was sat between his two best friends, unnoticed by everyone else.

With an air of confidence his best friend, Ron Weasley, picked up the newspaper that the hippo had previously plonked on the bench beside him. He read the paper with a smirk on his face.


What it Means to be a Hero

He-Who-Will-Be-Praised was arrested last Saturday afternoon for preaching in the streets of Diagon Alley. He tells us all to stand up against the dictatorship of the Ministry, to stand with him in peaceful protest for the introduction of democracy. It took a whole army of Goblins to force him down. He was released this morning after questioning and is returning to Azkaban Palace pleased with the support he has found.

“Oi Ginger! Give me that here,” the school bully, Neville Longbottom, bellowed. Ron flashed him an indignant look, not willing to give his copy away. Neville had a saliva-ridden copy of The Daily Plonk in his own hand; the hippo who had delivered it looked offended by his hostile response and dolloped on the floor.

Inwardly laughing at the hippo, which Neville had failed to notice, Harry warned his best friend. “Just give it to him Ron. You do not want to be visiting Magnificent Myrtle’s U-bend again.”

Gryffindors were usually meek-minded and passive creatures. Harry was the perfect example, never one to strive for attention or cause confrontation. He had befriended the black sheep, Ron, whose selfish and gallant behaviour made him very foolhardy. The bad apple, Neville Longbottom, was close to being a Hufflepuff but his desire for accumulating followers and cowardly way of bullying made him fall under this category.

With a squeak a house-elf appeared with an irate expression on his face. “Dobby hates hippos! Dobby not want to serve Master Dumbledore anymore and pick up hippo crap off the floor. Why should Dobby do that?”

The house-elf’s tantrum irritated one Gryffindor girl. “Get away from me, you filthy servant.” She shooed him away from her with a disgusted look on her face. Once it had vacated her sight, she returned to a screwed up piece of parchment. Her face was one of bewilderment as she tried to comprehend the different stages of the spell, wishing she had paid just a little more attention in class.

“Don’t let Professor Dumbledore see you doing your work, Hermione,” Harry warned her in a hushed tone.

“Oh I just cannot be bothered. Professor McGonagall always believes the stories I tell her, she’s so gullible.” With these words of rebellion she screwed up the piece of parchment and flung it over her shoulder. One of the hippos decided it would make a nice breakfast.

An ear-piercing ring is heard, echoing off the ancient walls of the Great Hall. Each student takes this as a signal to finish their food and gather their equipment ready for lesson. At the signal of another ring, they stand and march out in single file.


~*~

Down in the barren dungeons there was no light and only bats to keep the Hufflepuff students company (not that they would want any). A bolted door sealed off one classroom from the rest of this area. Made of oak and steel bolts, it did not allow any sound or light to pass through.

“Banana Pudding,” Ron said. He was enthusiastic about his favourite lesson. The liberal teaching style of his Potions Professor always gave him chance to flirt with the ladies. The bolted door opened with a lively swing and Ron was admitted to the jolly atmosphere of the classroom.

The Potion’s classroom was a clear defiance of Professor Dumbledore’s regime. With an enchanted rainbow that spread across the entire room, sunflowers growing up one wall and a stereo that boomed out Bob Marley classics, this place was known by all the students as the House of Fun. In the centre of the classroom stood a cauldron, boiling to the rim with a new concoction that each student was scooping up and putting into individual vials.

“I promise you that with one sip of my Frivolous Flurp all your cares will fly away,” gestured Professor Snape, he tottered around a little due to an excess of the potion himself. Without noticing it, his dreadlocked hair fell into the potion, the sizzling sensation made him shriek. When he escaped the ferocious substance’s grasp, the tips of his black hair had turned purple.

Ron snatched a portion and gulped it down. He then proceeded to flirt with Lavender Brown, who was sat alone in one of the corners.

“Go away, Ronald, I have to read this,” Lavender said in a snobbish manner. She flinched away from him and moved the book. Ron peered over her shoulder and realised it was a Muggle information book on the role of nuns within the Catholic Church. He decided his talents may be better received by some of the more playful students, like Hermione Granger.

At that moment the door bounced open once again. In walked a man with rhythm in his stride, he had an untamed afro and star-shaped sunglasses.

“Starburst!” he rejoiced.

“My noble friend, Moonbeam Lupin,” replied Snape. They embraced like brothers.

“Try some of my Frivolous Flurp, Moony, it will really ensnare the mind and bewitch the senses.” After they had shared a dosage each, burped and done several somersaults in the air, Snape called Harry Potter over.

Harry wondered why he was being summoned, he usually wasn’t noticed by anyone and liked to just do his work alone without speaking to anyone but his close friends. Snape pulled him close, hugging him with great enthusiasm and ruffling up his very tidy hair. “Your father and I were companions in school; I have mentioned that before, haven’t I?”

Yes, Harry thought. That is all you know about me. All you care to know.

Snape offered him some potion, “Let’s drink together - to your father’s memory!”

Harry smiled, raised the vial, and swept down the potion. It tasted sweet, like candyfloss.

With yet another dosage of his creation drunk, Snape levitated up towards the ceiling. When his head hit the cold surface with a thunk he cleared his throat to get the attention of his students. Almost everybody admired their teacher and so stopped their chatter abruptly and faced him.

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls,” he said in a ceremonious fashion. “The time has come to forget about Potion Brewing - it is useless and boring - and join the allegiance of He-Who-Must-Be-Praised! Become a Life Spurter today and fight for freedom. If we unite together as one, we will end the Ministry’s rule of tyranny. There will be equal rights for Muggleborns, pure bloods and half-bloods alike. Be a true hero, and openly voice your view. I have and because of that I have found a better way of life.”

His pale face was full of life; a glow emanating from the creased lines. He held his hands out as a gesture and offering, hoping that each student would accept it. The class shuffled a little, they were wide-eyed and a little apprehensive, but within most of them heart-strings were pulling towards the need for justice. For the rest of the lesson they heard about Snape’s role as a double agent, how he needed to behave stern and cold around Dumbledore, the Ministry’s lapdog in Warthogs, but underneath it he had a heart of gold. His pacifist beliefs atoned him with the Light Prince and he was organising a peaceful protest for the very near future.

“I am sorry, brother,” Lupin whispered to Snape after he had finished preaching, “I won’t be able to join the protest because, well, it will be my time of the month again.”

“No worries my fellow disciple! You will be with us in spirit,” chimed Snape, giving him a firm pat on the back.

The bell rung out, piercing through the hearts of the students. Their glowing faces were dulled by the idea of a strict and disciplined lesson with Professor Flitwick, who always forced them to do theory work and never anything practical.

~*~

Hermione Granger sulked up to Professor McGonagall’s office. She couldn't believe she had finally been given detention for not doing her work. Okay, she had received a Troll in her last mock paper and was well behind everyone else in class, but that is no excuse to punish her for it. She hated rules.

"You can enter now, 'Mione," sang McGonagall in her usual chirpy tone.

Hermione slinked in, closed the door behind her and rested upon it with a moody look on her face.

"Oh dear, what is wrong? Is it boy trouble?" patronised her Head of House.

"No, miss, but I would rather be out watching the fit Slytherin's having their Quidditch practice," she moaned.

"I will try not to keep you then," replied her teacher in an understanding tone. "I have received concerns from most of your teachers about your lack of progress in their lessons. Are you unhappy? If something is upsetting you then please let me know about it." She went over to Hermione and wrapped a comforting arm around her torso. She wore a wide and cheery smile and her eyes were glowing with warmth.

Hermione pushed her teacher away. "I just don't see the point in working, miss, to be truthful. I want to become a cheerleader for the Canons and that doesn't require any qualifications."

McGonagall gave her a small frown and let out a sympathetic sigh. "You are not going to be young forever, honey. I remember at your age wanting to become a glamour girl for the Quibbler, but alas, it was to no success. I had to accept that I would never be that beautiful."

"Are you saying I am not pretty enough to be a cheerleader? The moves I have rehearsed are brilliant; I have my audition piece already planned out."

McGonagall gave Hermione a doubtful look. Outraged at her teacher's lack of faith in her ability, Hermione stormed towards the door. "I cannot be bothered to learn how to transfigure a ball of wool into a small mouse. That is useless. Why should I bother learning magic that I will never use?"

With a flick of her bushy hair, she left the office. With all the anger pent up inside her, she did not notice the timid boy stood at the other side of the door.

"Oh I am ever so sorry Draco," she said, only half meaning it. Draco was a mild little Slytherin; he always followed the rules and worked hard in lesson. He liked to organise extra-curricular activities to encourage inter-house unity, but his schemes had been unsuccessful so far.

"That is okay, Hermione," he said, his puppy-like blue eyes growing wide at the sight of her. He had always admired her confidence and often wondered what he would have to do to be noticed. His closest friend, Harry, had somehow managed to catch her attention, even though usually they were the two most nondescript students of the school.

"Draco!" squealed McGonagall with glee. "You are here. I am delighted you could make it. Now, tell me about this idea you have regarding inter-house common rooms."

"Yes, Professor," Draco began respectably. "I believe we could have three new common rooms: one for first, second and third years; one for the fourth and fifth years and another for the sixth and seventh years. It would help people interact with everybody of their own age group. I have brought a petition of all the Slytherin's who support it." He handed her a large piece of parchment.

"Yes but those Hufflepuff's are going to be a problem," warned McGonagall, her voice still squeaky and chipper.

Hermione did not hear the rest of the conversation. She walked down the corridor, muttering to herself about how annoying such an idea would be. But then she reminded herself of all the good looking blokes in the other houses, ones she got very little time to flirt with, and decided it may not actually be that bad.


~*~

As the students of Warthogs went to bed that night, nobody suspected anything out of the ordinary. Nobody knew that the Final Battle was about to commence.

The clock struck midnight, the signal for movement. Bursting out of the dungeons, pelting with full speed up to the main gates, Professor Snape shot a dazzling spark from his wand. At the other side of the gates his companion Life Spurters saw a shoot of pink colours rise into the air. They were all crammed into an innocent looking Volkswagon campervan, their chosen Trojan Horse. The driver, Peter Pettigrew, began revving up the engine.

Snape reached the gate and quickly disabled the wards; they swung open to allow the protestors through. With great speed the van stormed through the gates, almost knocking over their fellow disciple in the process. Atop the campervan stood the Light Prince himself, majestically poised with his wand raised in triumph. His feline appearance looked gentle under the gentle glimmer of the stars. In the moonlight it was a magnificent sight -- a worn out van from the 60's, flamboyantly painted with flower pattern and emanating toxic fumes from its exhaust. The radio inside was blasting out Yellow Submarine, croaking and struggling to perform at such a high volume, but the Life Spurters compensated for this with their own merry version.

Up in the school, a few lights were switching on and curtains were pulled to one side. Some were wondering what the commotion was about. Is Professor Snape returning from The Hog's Feet out of his face again? As soon as they recognised a Snape-like silhouette beside the van, they dismissed the threat. His drinking habit is just getting worse, it is utterly disgraceful, and what is that strange animal he has fetched into the grounds? thought Professor Trelawney, who was still socialising in the staffroom. Nobody took him seriously.

"Now everybody," the Light Prince shouted after he had hopped off the van. "It is time to fight for ours and the next generation's freedom."

His words met with great applause, whilst each Life Spurter struggled out of the van. Snape was pleased, his deception of drunken tomfoolery had worked, and Dumbledore was not yet disturbed.

Around twenty protestors emerged, each rubbing sore necks, elbows and knees from having been crammed into a tight space. They held banners: "JUSTICE AND DEMOCRACY!" and "PEACE FOR OUR CHILDREN!" All had suffered the wrath of Dumbledore as students of Warthogs and they knew that things needed to change. Many were forced to work for a Ministry that didn't listen to the needs of its people but instead created policies that suited only its dictator, Cornelius Fudge.

As they marched up the wet grass, they felt like true heroes. They knew that no matter what happened, what they were doing was right. Dressed in multi-coloured cloaks with masks of feathers and glitter, each wore a necklace with a flower pendant, the mark of the Life Spurter.

"I am going to create a stampede!" shouted Bellatrix Lestrange, who was giddy and slightly over dramatic. She was excited about what was happening, but the Light Prince had always questioned her loyalty. "I am going to set the hippos free."

He debated over the idea, the woman's suggestions were always crazy, this one no less so, but it could work. "Okay, you have permission, they must be sick of being suppressed animals that are treated inferior. You must tell them Bella that they are equal in my eyes."

A tap on the Prince’s shoulder made him turn around. A timid looking man without any charisma, was wanting the leader's attention. "Are you sure about this, boss?" he asked.

"Yes, Lucius, more than I ever have been. Have faith in us, brother."

He then signalled to Peter Pettigrew that it was time to turn the stereo off. Silence hit the area immediately. "My fellow Life Spurters! It has been your vocation now for twenty years to follow me, and aid me in my quest for a better wizarding government. We are about to take seize of this sacred castle that was founded for selfish purposes. We will soon transform it into an oasis of love and compassion. Remember, my fellows, to hurt nobody, not even our darkest enemy. We must love our neighbour, and our neighbour isn't just he who support us but also he who opposes."

~*~

Two hours later and bed sheets were being torn and thrown out of the windows of towers, and small children struggling down. Fireworks of multicolour filled the air and voices were raised in song. An ultimate victory for the Life Spurters was being proclaimed and each child was joyous about the occasion. Risen up on top of the van, Everyone-Loves-Who was enjoying a mug of Frivolous Flurp.

A white bunny rabbit skipped down the lawns. It nibbled at the hem of one of the students and twitched for attention. "Oi," the student objected.

"Lupin!" Peter cried, picking the rabbit up and cuddling it. "I wondered when you would show up."

Suddenly each student stopped their rejoicing and turned towards the entrance. Five Life Spurters escorted Professor Dumbledore out of the building. He had a face of fury and his half-square glasses were skewed and broken. The penetrating pierce in his eye no longer intimidated the students, it no longer struck horror in their hearts, as each one made negative gestures at him.

"Put him in the campervan!" one yelled. As the van's door locked behind him, muffled curses could be heard from the irate professor.

The hippos surrounded the van, having been told they were liberated from their duties. As they escorted the tyrannical ex-headmaster out of the school they sang a song in unison: We will fight for hippo freedom and hold our large snouts high. We will run free with the rhino or die. Hippo's are fun!

The Light Prince then ascended to the front entrance to make an announcement to the school. "Student's of Warthogs school, the years of tyranny are over! Join us in our celebration feast."

And so it was. The rest of the evening was filled with laughter, dancing and gleeful screams from students who had been refrained from fun for so many years. Even the odd Hufflepuff student was seen cracking a smile or bobbing their head clumsily to the beat of the music. It would be nice to say they lived happily ever after, but that would be too cheesy an ending, wouldn’t it?

---

Thank you to everyone from SPEW and the forums who have supported me with this, especially those who have endured my strange questions. Thank you Emily for the idea of using delivery hippos, I was looking for a type of bird but I’ve somehow managed to make hippos work! Oh and thank you Sophie, for the entire plot bunny (which is now bouncing around and will soon transform back to Professor Lupin.)

The “Hippo song” that I included is a tweaked version of “Cows with guns.” A very funny song that you can find on www.cowswithguns.com