Summary: Mindbogglingly studip one-shot born out of fanfiction induced frustration and a slight itch I developed due to an allergy to my antibiotics.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nada. Zip. Diddly. Well, I do own the antibiotics…
Feedback: Yes please, I’m feeling peckish.
AN: This is a dedication to Mino who read this story, pretended to like it and pointed out glaringly obvious errors. That's what brothers are for, well done.
The Last Day at Hogwarts
It was with great reluctance that Hogwarts students in their final year found themselves seated on the ground outside Hagrid’s cabin by the edge of the Forbidden Forest. This ramshackle group consisted of both Gryffindors and Slytherins and they had come to attend their last lesson before going off to sit the infamous NEWT’s.
If the past seven years in Hagrid’s semi-capable paws had taught his students anything it was to make sure they regularly updated their Wills and always wore clean underwear before attending this particular class. Hagrid, well meaning as he may have been, invariably selected creatures that would do the most damage in the least amount of time to introduce to his students, and while nobody had actually ever died in one of his classes, Justin Finch-Fletchley for example was still recovering in the hospital wing after a particularly nasty incident during his sixth year involving a Manticore and some brown shoe polish.
The degree in sheer murderousness of the creatures Hagrid had been presenting his students with had only escalated with the amount of time passing to the extent where even dedicated Hagrid fans dreaded the inevitable look of absolute pride on their teachers face before he unveiled yet another incarnation of evil.
Here they were, in their last Care of Magical Creatures Class of their school careers, pressed cheek by jowl to present as few moving targets as possible. Nobody had been surprised that it was eventually Hagrid’s teaching methods which bridged the gaps between the houses for here, - presented with unknown horrors of the beastly variety, house feuds were forgotten and Slytherin clasped Gryffindor while Huffepuff hid behind Ravenclaw.
And so it was, that twenty-something teenagers in their seventeenth year of life found themselves staring up at Hagrid in fascinated horror while he proceeded to ‘teach’. He was humming. Safely in the middle of the crowd of tightly packed students, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley sat and shivered. It was never a good sign when Hagrid hummed. The last time this had happened; Neville had been eaten by a Cockatrice, only to be regurgitated three hours later. The poor boy still jumped every time he saw a feather duster.
Hagrid or the Great Smelly Oaf as he was fondly dubbed by his students was totally ignorant of the waves of fear washing over him. He was blissfully unaware that every time his gaze settled on a student, the unfortunate child would automatically lose control of their bladders, petrified beyond belief that he might, shudder, ask them to help him demonstrate. Sweeping his great eyes as big as plates over the mass of quivering flesh in front of him, Hagrid beamed widely and proceeded with his lesson.
“Good morning class. I bet you’re all terribly excited and ever so sad that this will be your last class with me ever, isn’t that so Harry.”
The Boy-Who-Lived-Only-To-Be-Subjected-To-This squeaked at the mention of his name and attempted to bury deeper into the huddle of students. Blissfully unaware of the effect he was having on his erstwhile friend, Hagrid continued in the great booming voice of his which carried easily enough to the castles observation deck where Professor Snape had taken the afternoon off in order to watch the CoMC class through a set of omniculars. He had a bet of five gallons with Dumbledore riding on at least three students snuffing it from heart failure and was particularly hoping that it would be the detestable Gryffindor Trio.
Back by the forest, Hagrid regarded his students with a stern look,- or at least he thought it was stern, in fact the effort simply made his eyes cross and gave him the overall appearance of a very large, slightly constipated gerbil.
“Now I’ve been taking it easy on you lot in the past but I think that since this is the last class you’ll ever be taking with me I should introduce you to some of the real dark creatures you’ll be meeting out in the world. Nothing like the harmless widdle critters I’ve showed you so far, this one’s a mite more tricky.”
This announcement was met with gasps of disbelief and stabs of pure fear by his students who only relaxed a little when he proceeded with his announcement.
“Now, I won’t be needing any help with this one folks, so I’m sorry to all you eager beavers who were wanting to volunteer, eh Harry?” At this, the Boy-Who-Lived became the Boy-Who-Passed-Out-From-Relief.
“Must be low bloodsugar,” Shrugging slightly, Hagrid continued, “Anyway, the creature you’re about to meet is still in its infancy, they tend to get a bit rambunctious when they get older so I though it might be a good idea for you to meet an ickle one first. There’s no need to be afraid, they’re more or less harmless really.”
At this announcement the student body drew back in horror as one, it was the more in the more or less part that really worried them if truth be told.
Ignoring his students obvious discomfort, Hagrid strode over to a cloth covered cage nobody had noticed so far and with a triumphant “TA-DAAA!” unveiled his newest pet. The class instinctively backed away from the cage in fear, then realizing that their display of horror had simply not been dramatic enough; re-approached the cage only to draw back again,-this time fully equipped with over-exaggerated gasps and swoons.
Hermione who had until this moment been occupied with chiding one wanton Slytherin who had used the advantage of the tightly pressed throng of bodies to slip his hand up her skirt, caught a glimpse of the contents of the cage out of the corner of her eye and squealed quite loudly. The Slytherin who quite falsely assumed that his roaming fingers were the source of her squeaking, smirked in a disgustingly smug manner only to be fatally wounded mere moments later when he was crushed under a horde of speedily retreating students. He would no doubt have been very wounded indeed (psychologically not physically, the stampede already took care of the latter) if he had been conscious enough to realise that Hermione never even noticed, so busy was she gaping at the spectacle in front of her. Pausing only to retrieve her knickers from around her ankles and wonder vaguely just how they got to be there in the first place, Hermione made her way to the front of the now rapidly calming crowd, stopping only to deliberately step on the fingers of one Pansy Parkinson who had fainted at the sight of Hermione’s obscenely large granny pants. Absently she noticed that some of the more quick minded students had taken advantage of their feeble classmates and were using the unconscious bodies to erect a buffer zone between themselves and the contents of the cage. Escape to the castle was alas at this point no longer an option as Hagrid had released his army of rabid Flobberworms to patrol the perimeter.
While Hermione was approaching the cage and preparing to give exposition on its contents, Harry and Draco Malfoy were crouched behind the impenetrable wall that was the motionless bodies of Crabbe and Goyle.
During the mad rush following Hagrids unveiling of the cage, the bitter enemies had shared a moment of unspoken solidarity and in unison had petrified the Slytherin goons in order to afford them some protection from their stampeding classmates.
Being used to displays of extreme emotions such as these, as Harry had now faced Voldemort roughly eighteen-hundred and thirty-seven times (still unsuccessfully on both parts), he took advantage of the shelter behind which he was currently hiding and proceeded to roll himself a fag. Malfoy, he noted absently, seemed to be faring a little worse, huddled in a little ball as he was, chewing on the edge of his cloak and whimpering for his mummy.
Lighting his cigarette (sure, smoking on the grounds was technically forbidden, but there were some perks to being the Boy Wonder after all) Harry cast another fearful glance at the contents of the cage and nudged Malfoy.
“Oy, pillock. What exactly is that thing?”
The blond boy next to him immediately stopped his snivelling, only to stare at Harry in disbelief.
“You…you mean you don’t know? God Potter, you’re even dumber than I thought…how can you not know…I mean,” here he broke off sharply as he was interrupted by Neville Longbottom, running past him at full pelt, screaming: “The feathers…oh god, the feathers!!” into the Forbidden Forest.
Watching the somewhat rotund boy vanish behind the edge of the trees, Malfoy was about to take up his speech where he had left off but was interrupted by Neville calmly returning from the depths of gloom he had only so recently disappeared into.
The portly Gryffindor sauntered up to the two boys, smoothly retrieved something from the ground next to them, shrugged offering an apologetic “Forgot my wand” and then proceeded to re-enact his earlier escapade, complete with the running and screaming into the forest.
Shaking himself, Malfoy focused on Harry’s impatient face, snarled reflexively and carried on: “Where was I? Oh yeah…it’s…it’s…oh god, I can’t bring myself to say it!”
With a theatrical wail, the blond boy flung himself to the side and proceeded to sob loudly and badly.
After muttering ‘there, there’ a few times and absently patting Malfoy on the shoulder, Harry took full advantage of the seemingly momentary lull in hysterical activity and sauntered over to Hermione who unsurprisingly enough looked like she was taking notes. Peeking over her shoulder, Harry tried to make out what she was scribbling, unfortunately her handwriting was so illegible that he could not make out anything other than “…scribble…giant ridged tentacles…scrawl…the cheese…squiggle…it’s looking straight at me!”
Taking advantage of her preoccupation, Harry wiped his be-malfoyed hands on the back on Hermione’s robes and turned his attention to the creature inside the cage. He had truly never imagined such a creature could conceivably exist, what kind of creator could possibly be disturbed enough to come up with…this?
Around him chaos still reigned, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil looked to be in such a state of unrest that they were running endlessly in circles, only to collide every now and again, smacking into each others foreheads and causing generous amounts of self-induced concussion.
Meanwhile, all the excitement appeared to have been too much for Millicent Bulstrode, who despite her size suffered from a delicate disposition. Instead of joining her snaky classmates as they assembled the bodies of fallen Gryffindor students and used them as a climbing aid for reaching the relative safety of the trees, she collapsed onto the unfortunately situated Ron Weasley, who’s only comment was to shout “Timber!”
On the roof of the Observatory, Professor Snape cackled nastily. He had ordered one of the house elves to bring him some popcorn around about the time that Seamus Finnigan fell victim to a particularly nasty Flobberworm attack; the vicious creature had grabbed the unsuspecting Irish lout by the nape of the neck and slobbered over him in a ferocious display of unequalled magnitude. Idly wondering whether he should inform the other professors of the bloodsports currently taking place by the pumpkin-patch, the Potions Master observed Hagrid as he appeared to be trying to sneak peeks up Bullstrodes robes. No, he decided, it would simply be rude to impose on the authority of another member of Faculty; after all, nobody told him how to teach his classes…at least not twice.
Meanwhile, the Boy-Who's-Patience-Was-Wearing-Thin was vainly trying to get his friend’s attention. Hermione seemed to have worked herself into such a fevered pitch of note-taking that steam was coming from her ears and the quill was leaving skidmarks on her parchment.
“This is for your own good ‘Mione,” Harry gasped and yanked the notes from his friend’s resisting grasp.
“Oh my god!” screamed the afore-mentioned pal, “Papercuts, millions and millions of papercuts!”
“Suck it up you big ninny, never had a shallow gash before?” Nobody could accuse Harry of being unfeeling in the face of crisis. “Now stop your wailing and tell me, what the hell is that thing in the cage and why is everyone acting like it’s the anti-Christ? It’s not like it’s being particularly hostile.”
“Oh Harry, dear innocent uneducated Harry,” Hermione mumbled while unsuccessfully attempting to suck on all her cuts at the same time, “Before you, you see the dreaded…the feared…the most absolutely horrifying…”
“Yes?” Harry asked, leaning forward eagerly, “Stop being so dramatic and just spit it out already!”
Poor, poor Hermione. Just as she was about to finally solve the mystery of the creature in the cage (which was currently busy lobbing spitballs at a cowering Malfoy) a gigantic hand descended from the starry heavens and plucked her from the relative safety of…ah, who am I kidding.
“Damn it,” fumed Harry “this happens every time she’s about to tell me the answer in Potions!”
Tearing himself away from the spectacle unfolding before his watery eyeballs, Professor Snape cursed loudly. Hogwarts was securely insured against student deaths, accidental or otherwise. Abductions by honking great big appendages swooping in from the skies however were another matter entirely, Gringott’s goblins simply didn’t believe in the ‘acts of God’ clause.
Sighing regretfully, he looked longingly at the Pina Colada Winky the house elf had so thoughtfully provided him with only moments before. There simply was nothing for it. Gathering his petticoats, the snarky Head of Slytherin House made a run for Dumbledore’s office. Sliding down the banisters of countless staircases and sprinting up and down hallways, (not because it would get him there faster, Snape was a firm believer in fitness training and when not in the dungeons he could usually be found jogging briskly whilst wearing a fluorescent pink sweatband to keep his greasy fringe from flopping into his eyes) he finally came to a halt outside the Headmasters office.
Slightly out of breath, Snape straightened his back and barked “Blackcurrant Liquorice” at the gargoyles guarding the entrance. Huffing slightly at his tone, the great stone beasts opened the way to the Headmaster’s office. After a moment on the moving staircase, Snape burst into Dumbledore’s office and came to a screaming halt. There before him was the most horrifying of sights, so mind bogglingly obscene that had he been capable of logical thought, our hero would no doubt have scratched his eyeballs out, stomped on them and ground them into dust just for good measure.
Fawkes, the Headmaster’s loyal phoenix was hiding under the desk which had been pushed to the side. In its usual space hung a full sized mirror and before it…before it was Dumbledore complete with long beard, wizard hat and twinkly eyeglasses. Unfortunately, the only other item of attire currently situated on or about his person was a small leather pouch which covered not nearly enough and was connected to the old wizard’s nipples via several lengths of chain.
“ARGH!! My eyes, my eyes!!! Oh god, please somebody tell me I’ve gone blind!”
“Ah Severus, I wasn’t expecting you so soon,” said the mild-mannered, but no doubt deeply perverted Dumbledore, “look, I just got a delivery from Geriatric Wizard Bondage Fun, do you think it’s my colour?”
“If you don’t mind, Headmaster,” came the reply from under the desk where Snape had joined Fawkes, “I’d be infinitely more pleased if I never see anything again. I’m afraid there’s a spot of trouble down at the Care of Magical Creatures Class, it would appear that Hagrid has outdone himself this time and the students have gone on a rampage. Also, Miss Granger seems to have been abducted.”
“Well thank god for that, I’m glad somebody got rid of the interfering little busybody. Whoops, I probably wasn’t supposed to say that.” Dumbledore winked at himself in the mirror and his reflection gagged. “Do you suppose she’ll be returned once she’s fulfilled her purpose?”
“I bloody well hope not,” Snape sniffed and quickly wished he hadn’t, it would appear Dumbledore hadn’t hoovered in quite some time and Fawkes’ personal hygiene left something to be desired for.
“Well, do you suppose we should do something? I am in charge of the children’s emotional and physical wellbeing you know and I do take my job ever so seriously.”
There was a small pause and then both men burst into bouts of laughter.
“Aha, ha-ha headmaster, that was too funny,” chortled Snape several minutes later, wiping tears from his eyes, “I don’t know about you but I’m blowing this joint, warping young minds simply isn’t what it used to be. I’m going back to Voldie, at least he’s always appreciated me plus he makes a mean Victoria Sponge cake.”
“What an outstanding idea, Severus old chap,” beamed one Professor Albus Dumbledore, “I believe I shall accompany you. Capital plan! Let me just grab my lemon drops and I believe I’ll be ready to go.”
Cautiously Snape emerged from the shelter beneath the desk, careful to keep his eyes averted from the more than semi undressed coot before him. While he waited impatiently for Dumbledore to gather his belongings, he mused aloud: “Do you think we should sort out the students before we go?”
Dumbledore paused momentarily then shouldered his knapsack (violet with virulent yellow polka dots).
“Nah, if we’re gonna be evil we might as well do it properly. Let’s just leave them to it. By the way you never did tell me what Hagrid’s creature was.”
“Oh,” said Snape with a start, “do you know sir, I never even looked. It probably doesn’t matter.”
“You’re right,” said Dumbledore as together they made their way from the office, “now, do you think Voldie will be interested in latex nurses outfit? Only the leather people had one in his size and I simply couldn’t resist. They deliver you know.”
These were the last words either teacher was to ever hear again, for as they made their way around a corner, a homicidal Flobberworm who had been hit with three simultaneous engorgement charms charged and flattened them in less time it took to say “Well, I certainly didn’t see that one coming.”
Hogwarts subsequently burned down under mysterious circumstances, and though some people said they had seen Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy wandering off into the sunset, holding hands and shouldering cans of gasoline such talk was dismissed as ridiculous rumours.
Hermione Granger was never heard of again, for all we know nobody actually bothered looking for her.
Ronald Weasley was eaten three months later by Millicent Bulstrode in a passion induced binge; he shall be sadly missed by Ellie Waters of the Greater Bostwock Area.
As for Hagrid…well, nobody actually cares
And so it was that the last day at Hogwarts drew to an end, to the relief of characters, writer and readers everywhere. The moral of this story? Don’t eat dust.