Chapter 11 FOOD FIGHT!!!!
The week went by swiftly. The McHohos readily accepted the explanation that Cho was another foreign exchange student residing in their home, and she moved into Lizbeth’s room. And after two or three days at the mall, shopping for school supplies for Draco, Vince, Greg and Cho, they woke up on Monday morning, ready to start their sophomore year.
Ellie drove them to school in the family’s old pickup truck that swerved, coughed and bounced on the road treacherously. Draco was beginning to get a headache from Nerd and Lizbeth yelling “Yee-haw!” every time they hit a bump when they finally arrived at Callihorn High School. It was a one-floor red-brick building with large glass windows and green fields, surrounded by a few trees. Draco was fascinated by its structure.
“All right, just go right in and find Mr. Turner,” Ellie said.
They all climbed out of the truck except for Lizbeth, who was still in middle school. Draco soon found himself surrounded by crowds and crowds of students and clearly separated from Greg, Vince, Cho and Nerd. He had no idea where Mr. Turner’s office was or where he was. Cautiously, he walked up to a muscular boy and tapped him on the shoulder. “Excuse me, do you…”
“Roar!” the boy clamped his muscular hand around Draco’s neck and slammed him against the cold, hard locker. “Did you just call me a seigneur?”
“N-no, why would I choose those as my last words?” Draco mumbled, suspecting a very painful and possibly violent death coming up. And he hadn’t even gotten his new shipping order of pantyhoses yet. Oh, the joys of teenagehood.
“Oh, okay. Sorry.” The boy put him down. “I’m Butch. I’m sensitive to people using French words around me.”
“Oh, yeah, so am I,” Draco said. He looked at Butch, who had puffy black hair neatly greased, with a tight white sparkling suit-like outfit and red towels around his neck. “I see you like Elvis.”
“How DO you know that?” Butch exclaimed. “It’s like you read my mind or something. Well, yeah, I guess I like Elvis, but just today. I dress up as a different famous person every day.”
“Really? That’s very…er…interesting,” Draco said. “Even women?”
“Yeah, yeah. Diana Ross, Abigail Adams, they’re all my past-time favorites.” Butch suddenly blushed and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Don’t tell people, but I like dressing up like them because I can wear a pantyhose.”
“You DO?” Draco exclaimed. “I love pantyhoses! In fact, I’m wearing one myself right now!”
“Oh my gosh, so am I! Do you wear cotton or silk? And what color?”
“Well, according to mugglenet fan fiction, I wear silky green pantyhoses with little snake patterns on them.”
“Interesting. I usually go with pink and white bunnies and unicorns…”
“Excuse me…” Greg tapped Butch’s shoulder.
“ROAR!” Butch slammed Greg on the locker this time, his muscular muscles throbbing muscular…ly. There were green veins in his thick and broad forehead, and his eyes were burning like flames. “HOW DARE YOU CALL ME DEBONAIR!”
“PLEASE DON’T KILL ME!” Greg screeched. “I HAVEN’T TASTED ALL THE TOILETS OF THE WORLD YET!”
“YOU WANT TO TASTE A TOILET? I’ve got one in my locker if you’re interested.” Butch offered.
“Really?”
“NO! But I know this kid who collects toilets. I can introduce you to him.”
“That would be great!” Greg slid down from the locker. “I’m Gregory G…”
“SILENCE!” Butch roared. He clamped a giant meaty hand around Draco and dragged him over. “I’d like for you to meet my new best friend, uh…what’s your name?”
“Draco Malfoy,” Draco supplied.
“Yeah, Geico Mustard.”
“I already know Draco,” Greg said. “We’re foreign exchange students from Britain.”
“Ah, I thought you two had a funny accent,” Butch scratched his head. “Anyway, Break My Toy, where are you going?”
“We need Mr. Turner,” Draco said.
“He’s probably in the petting zoo,” Butch said. “Follow me.”
“There’s a petting zoo in here?” Draco asked as they squeezed through the crowded hallway.
“Yeah, of course.” Butch banged on a plain wooden door. “Mr. Turner! Mr. Turner, open up!”
“Who is this?” a voice came from inside.
“It’s Arnold Schwartznegger! I’m running for the Governor of California again, and I’d like to have your vote!”
“Well, sure, Arn…wait a minute, I’m sorry, Arnold, I can’t vote for you.”
“Why the ever not?”
“I don’t live in California. I can’t vote for you unless I live in California.”
“They changed the rules!”
“They did?”
“Sure! You can vote for anyone you want to.”
“Oka…no, wait, I’m sorry, Arnold. I still can’t let you in.”
“Why?”
“I’m not wearing any pants.”
“Why the heck aren’t you wearing pants?”
“Because I’m in a dinosaur suit and I can’t fit the pants in there.”
“And why are you in a dinosaur suit?”
“DUH! I’m in the petting zoo, remember? I can’t scare the cute little animals!”
“What kind of dinosaur suit are you wearing?”
“T-rex, comes complete with fangs.”
“Can I see it? I may need to use it for another Terminator movie.”
“What’s Terminator?”
“It’s a movie.”
“What’s it about?”
“It’s about a Terminator.”
“What does he do?”
“He terminates.”
“Where does he terminate?”
“In the movie.”
“What else does he do?”
“He sells weenies on a bun in Bikini Bottom. Now let me in, will you?”
“But I’m not wearing pants!”
“Aren’t you in a dinosaur suit?”
“Who told you?”
“Uh, Butch? This is…er…taking forever,” Draco said. He went up to the door and pounded on it. “Hello, it’s the foreign exchange students, Mr. Turner!”
“The f-foreign exchange students!” Mr. Turner exclaimed. The door opened promptly. He was in a Teletubies suit.
“I thought you were in a dinosaur suit,” Greg said in shock.
Mr. Turner looked down at his outfit and groaned. “That is the LAST time I order from a catalog called ‘Our server is temporarily down’.” He looked at Butch. “Elvis! I thought you were Arnold Schwartzenegger!”
“No, that’s Thursday,” Butch said.
“Anyway…” Mr. Turner beamed at Draco and Greg. “Ah, the foreign exchange students. Welcome to our school. Here are your schedules, and I believe Butch here can escort you to your classes.” A little white lamb came out of the door and nibbled on his legs. “Oh, Daisy, I’m coming right back. See you three later.”
Draco sighed and went to class with Butch and Greg.
***
“See ‘em?”
“Ouch, Macnair, that’s my appendix!”
“Shut up, Dolohov, I can’t hear!”
“Everybody be quiet!”
The members of the Death Eaters House of Representatives were squatted behind a lush green fern, hidden from the broad road, where the new foreign exchange students would be coming soon. “Now then…” Voldemort’s red eyes gleamed with excitement. He pulled out his wand. “I think I hear them. My exterminator skills have finally come into use.”
“Uh, exterminator skills?”
“Yes. Did you know that I worked as an exterminator after I graduated from Hogwarts? I can tell just by the sound of the footsteps of a person how much they weigh and who they are.” Voldemort cocked his head to listen. “Aha! A North American silver-footed ferret, adult male, 2 ½ pounds.”
“No, that’s just a coach coming down the road,” Lucius said.
“A coach? I thought they were from America.” Andy said, confused.
“No, no, no, no.” Voldemort explained. “It’s a three-way sort of trade. What’d they call it back then…The Triangular Trade! We send some munchkins to America, an American school sends some students to Africa, and we get a little Egyptian boy.”
A coach came rolling into sight. It was a fancy shiny one with long, delicate dark red swan velvet drapes, concealing the rider inside. It seemed to be moving with the impact of magic.
“Ready?” Voldemort whispered.
“Ready.” Everyone gripped their wands.
“One…two…three…”
All of them jumped out from the bush. “IMPEDIMENTA!”
The coach stopped immediately. Lucius hurried to push aside the drapes. Inside was a stern-looking woman, a girl, and four scrawny teenage Egyptian boys, knocked out by the impact of the spells.
“Excellent,” Voldemort whispered. “I’ve got him.”
“Got what?” Lucius asked.
Voldemort held up a ferret. “North American silver-footed ferret, adult male, 2 ½ pounds. Haha! What’d I tell you? I’ve still got it! The old man’s still got it!”
“Quick,” Bellatrix said, reaching inside her robes, pulling out a beaker containing a purple potion and putting the hairs of the unconscious students inside small cups of potion. “Drink these.”
They all gulped down the potions. Soon, Lucius felt his stomach rumbling like a volcano. He was becoming exceedingly sick…he was going to toss his cookies…he was…
A scrawny teenage Egyptian boy.
He looked around him. Everyone had transformed successfully, and they were adorned in Egyptian wizard clothing, which were silk white robes with trimmed golden fringes.
“But what do we do with the teacher?” Andy wondered.
“Mobilius Corpus!” Voldemort muttered, and the teacher’s unconscious form rose and shrank to the size of a gnat. He put her in his pocket. “All right, Hogwarts, here we come!” he pulled out a flashlight and shone it on his face. “Mwahahahahaha!”
***
“Professor Dumbledore!” Professor McGonagall rushed into the Great Hall. “The foreign exchange students have arrived!”
“Excellent!” Dumbledore stepped down from the teachers’ tables and strode across the Hall. “Students and teachers, may I present --- our new foreign exchange students from Egypt!”
The big doors opened. Voldemort, Bellatrix, Lucius, Andy and Macnair stepped inside.
Voldemort decided that it was time to take action. He ran over to the teachers’ table, grabbed Snape, and kissed him on both cheeks. “Oh, eet ees wonderful most-e to be zee country een. And eet ees a pleasure meet yoo to! In I country wee keese good-looking person on cheek see them when we!”
Snape, looking revolted, pushed him away. Voldemort went over to Dumbledore and hugged him. “Professor McGonagall! What pleasure eet ees meeting yoo!”
“It’s good to see you too, uh…what’s your name?”
Voldemort brainstormed quickly. “Hunulupulupuaikikikiaboninisisatani Ianolaikilapochama!” he announced. “Mee calls Hunu in family.”
“Nice to meet you, Hunu, I am Professor Dumbledore,” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled.
Voldemort looked up at Dumbledore. “Oh, now yoo are Dumbly-door!” he exclaimed. “First second yoo ees McGonagall, zen yoo change your name to Dumbly-door! Eeet weel be hard to keep up weeth you, whazever your name ees.”
“Well, why don’t you and your friends take a stab at the Sorting Hat, Hunu?” Dumbledore said.
Professor McGonagall brought the old hat over to the stool while the students lined up. “You can go first, Hunu.”
Voldemort gingerly sat down on the stool and placed the hat on his head. “I don’t like eet,” he complained. “Eeet makes my head feel itchy! Perhaps eet ees zee lice een my head.”
“Hmm…” the hat considered. “You do seem to complain a lot…”
“Zees hat! Eeet talks! Eeet must be evil!” Voldemort jumped from the stool, and throwing the hat on the ground, stomped hard on it. “Bad hat! Evil hat! Bad evil talking hat! I will be selfless hero and defeat it!” he decided that the accent was too much and just went with the grammatical errors. “I AM WOMAN, HEAR ME ROAR!!!!”
“Now, Hunu!” Professor McGonagall exclaimed, rushing to retrieve the hat from Voldemort’s feet and to dust it. “The hat’s not evil. It’s enchanted to talk.”
“Ohh…” Voldemort considered the hat. “We have hat like this in our country. Mr. Potato Head.”
“Now let’s give it one more try, Hunu,” Professor McGonagall said, placing the hat on his head.
“He’s…easily…agitated…and…VERY…aggressive…” the hat panted. “So…I’m…going…to…put…him…in… Slytherin…”
There was a few rounds of scattered, unenthusiastic applause from the Slytherin table. Professor McGonagall motioned for Voldemort to go sit with them, and he went to sit down next to a skinny boy. “Hello. I am new to country. What your name is be?”
“Theodore Nott,” the boy responded.
“Oh, I don’t like,” Voldemort said. “My name Hunu, it means potty in Egyptian language. What nott mean?”
“Uh…I don’t know,” Theodore Nott shrugged.
“You have boring name,” Voldemort remarked. “You need eat more or be ugly tomorrow.”
The rest of the group was sorted into Slytherin as well with several raised eyebrows from the students and teachers. They then began the feast.
***
All day, Butch, Draco, Greg and Vince went to their classes together. Cho had found some girlfriends, and she seemed to be adjusting a lot better than the rest of them.
At lunch, the four of them sat at a table near the center of the huge cafeteria, which was where the students ate their lunches. Draco longingly recalled how everyday around this time, he would be sitting between Greg and Vince, eating pork chops, drinking pumpkin juice and talking under an enchanted roof. Instead, he was stuck halfway around the globe, eating strange American food out of a styrofoam plate that read JOIN THE CLOWNS…OR ELSE, and listening to the other three compare armpit noises.
Just then, a skinny boy got up to get a napkin. He stepped on a banana peel, and the macaroni and cheese in his hand splattered on a giant football player’s face. The football player, after wiping the gooey yellow stuff from his face, snatched a Jello instant pudding and threw it, screaming, “FOOD FIGHT!”
“AHHHH!” the cafeteria was immediately filled with people yelling, screaming, and tossing food in the air. Several green peas covered in gravy shot up Draco’s nose, and he fell down, tripping Greg, who tripped Vince, and who fell headfirst into a large bowl of apple pie.
“YOU!” he yelled at Draco, and grabbing a huge bowl of green slime off the lunch lady’s cart, he dumped it all on Draco.
“EVERYONE ATTACK THE GAWKY BLONDE FOREIGN EXCHANGE STUDENT!” someone yelled.
A girl ran over to Draco and dumped a gallon of apple sauce down Draco’s pants. A boy poured white fish goo down Draco’s shirt. “AHH-RROOOO!” Draco shrieked when he felt the cold goo slither down his front. Then he felt two huge milkshakes clamp over his eyes.
“There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home, there’s no place like home!” he squeaked, clamping his heels together. “Mummy! Hey, don’t get mustard on my pantyhose! They’re SILK!”