Post by mugglemin on Nov 25, 2004 13:43:59 GMT -5
All swiped from Ms Rowling.
“What on earth was that?!” cried Professor Sprout as a sudden bang from the wardrobe startled her out of her chair.
“Boggart” said Flitwick, not bothering to look up from his marking. “It’s been pounding away ever since I came in.”
“Another one? We seem to have an infestation!” The wardrobe shuddered loudly. “Shall I get rid of it?”
She moved towards the handle, but Flitwick looked up from his papers.
“No, wait a sec!“ he said. “Alastor might want it for his third years. He was saying the other day what a good job he thought Lupin had done with last year’s lot.”
Sprout nodded in understanding, and the wardrobe creaked slightly. It gave another random thump and what sounded like a hiccup as she sat down, but she managed to hang on to her coffee without it spilling into her lap.
“Bit vocal this one isn’t it?” she said.
“Hmm?” Flitwick was clearly once again absorbed in his marking.
“I said it’s a bit vocal!” she was forced to raise her voice as the Boggart began to bang with renewed vigour and rhythm, making an incredible noise and rocking the wardrobe back and forth as if it was trying to break out.
“Really? I hadn’t noticed!” Flitwick yelled back. “All I’ve heard is banging!”
“What?” Sprout was straining to hear him.
“I said all I‘ve heard is banging!”
“Nope!” she cried, shaking her head “Didn’t catch that! You what?”
“I SAID…”
His attempt to explain was interrupted by the entrance of Professor Snape, who strode into the staff room like a man on a mission and threw himself, scowling, into his favourite chair.
“That BLOODY POTTER!” he cried, but his cry went unheard as the Boggart embarked on a series of slow but steady bangs, accompanied by a few high pitched squeals.
“What is that infernal racket?!” cried the potions master through clenched teeth.
“BOGGART!!” yelled Sprout and Flitwick together. The slowing rhythm of the bangs had enabled Snape to hear them, but before they could attempt a conversation, the Boggart had decided enough was enough and began to rock with frenziedly. A few more squeals were heard above the crashing, and Snape jumped to his feet in fury.
“Well why haven’t you done something about it?!” he cried
“We thought Alastor might want it. Don’t get rid of it until he’s had a look, Severus.” Flitwick squeaked.
Snape sniffed, but threw himself back in his chair. “He’d better bloody well hurry up.” He said, folding his arms across his chest crossly. “I’m not listening to this all morning.”
Flitwick nodded, and turned back to his work. Sprout rolled her eyes. Snape could be just as intolerable as a Boggart when he was in the mood. But then this was a particularly noisy Boggart…
The door flew open and the man they were all waiting for strode in.
“Aha! Alastor! Just the man!” cried Sprout.
“What is it, Pomona?” Moody growled.
“There’s a Boggart in the wardrobe, do you want it?”
Moody looked over at the wardrobe, which was currently furnishing them with a rendition of bangs that fitted remarkably well to the rhythm of Beethoven’s fifth. He balked as his magical eye caught up with his real one and quickly turned back to his colleagues.
“Boggart?!” he cried.
“Yes! In the wardrobe.” Sprout answered. “Do you want it?”
Moody gave her a horrified look and yelled “No!”
“Right then,” said the herbology Professor “I’ll get rid of it, shall I?”
She moved towards the wardrobe, which seemed to have stopped shaking, but Moody got there first and held the door shut just as she was about to open it.
“Uh…ah, on second thoughts, Pomona, I think I will have it. Set it on the third years, you know. Teach ’em a thing or two…”
His magic eye was spinning furiously, looking in every direction but the wardrobe.
Sprout raised her eyebrows, but shuffled back to her chair. “As you like, Alastor.”
The banging had resumed, and the Boggart seemed to have added the 1812 overture to its repertoire. Moody rushed over to the window, where he stood gazing intently out at the forbidden forest.
“Oh Merlin! I can’t stand this anymore!” cried Snape. “Can’t you move it to your office, Moody?”
“Er…nope, sorry Severus. I don’t have any trunks free at the moment.”
Moody turned quickly back to the window, as if afraid to look at the wardrobe.
The banging had become frenzied, and so loud that Flitwick threw down his quill in resignation.
Suddenly, all went quiet. The banging stopped, and all that could be heard was a muffled squeal, followed closely by what could only be described as a triumphant cry.
The staff were very quiet, wands at the ready. They had all risen and were gradually moving closer to the wardrobe. Only Moody remained where he was, his back to the object of his colleagues’ concern.
“I’m sorry Alastor” Sprout whispered loudly “We’re going to have to deal with this one now…”
Moody turned around quickly to see Professor Sprout with her hand on the handle of the wardrobe. He rushed forward to stop her, but it was too late!
With a huge crash, the wardrobe doors flew open and Albus Dumbledore fell out and hit the floor with a thump, closely followed by Minerva McGonagall and several of the spare robes that seemed to have come off their hangers.
The staff stared in horror as their Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress struggled to their feet and brushed themselves off. Minerva’s hair had fallen out of its customary bun, and Albus’s robes looked distinctly dishevelled.
“Albus Dumbledore! You’re a very BAD man!” cried Minerva, as she moved over to the mirror to tidy her hair, apparently oblivious to the rest of the staff, who were wearing expressions of absolute mortification. Moody had turned back to the window and had his head in his hands. Albus seemed to be chuckling to himself, also seemingly unaware of the presence of the others.
Pomona Sprout swallowed hard.
“Was that…” she began “Oh dear, oh dear…were you…?”
“What?” Minerva asked, turning back to them as her usual immaculate self.
“What were you doing in there together?” Snape demanded, glaring at Dumbledore, who was re-arranging his robes.
Minerva blushed.
“Don’t be embarrassed, Minerva.” said Albus, still chuckling. “I could have done it to any of them.”
The others recoiled at this last sentence, and Professor Sprout fell into a chair, murmuring something about it not being in the job description.
Minerva looked at their horrified faces, and it dawned on her what they were all thinking.
“Good heavens!” she cried “You don’t all think that we were…”
She gasped and put her hand to her mouth.
“Well that’s what it sounded like!” Snape spat.
Minerva sank into a chair and covered her face with her hands.
“No, no, no!” she cried. “NO! How could you think that the headmaster and I would…NO!
We were just trying to get through the door!”
“What door?!”
“The door to Narnia.”
“The WHAT?”
“Haven’t you read “The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe” Severus?” asked Dumbledore. “It’s a muggle children’s book that Minerva is rather partial to…I’m afraid I was in rather high spirits from this morning’s April fools tomfoolery and er…got a bit carried away.”
The teachers continued to stare at them both with a mixture of confusion and disgust.
“I am familiar with that book, Dumbledore.” said Flitwick “But I fail to understand what it has to do with you and Minerva banging away inside a wardrobe like a couple of teenagers!”
“He told me he’d found a door Filius!” explained Minerva, now as red as a member of the Weasley family. “In the back of the staff room wardrobe.”
“And you believed him?!” cried Snape incredulously
“No of course not, but he talked me into looking, and there it was! I tried opening it, but it was stuck fast, so the headmaster came in to help me. That’s what all the banging was about! It just would not open. Merlin! To think that you all thought we were…”
She gasped again and covered her face with her hands.
“Yes, it was a good joke, up to that point.” said Dumbledore with a sigh. “I still don’t understand what made it so difficult to open…”
Snape rolled his eyes.
“Honestly, Professor McGonagall,” Flitwick cried, exasperated. “I would have thought you would know better than to do anything the Headmaster suggests on the 1st of April!”
“Well, I did catch her reading the book the other day, and rather thought I might take advantage of it…” explained Dumbledore as Minerva shrugged.
The other teachers groaned and went back to their seats, each one secretly sighing with relief. Keen as they were for their deputy head and headmaster to deepen their relationship, none of them wanted to be present when it actually happened, so to speak. Flitwick took up his marking, Sprout her coffee, and Snape his scowl.
The only member of staff who had not moved during the entire episode was Moody, who had both real and magical eye fixed on the window.
Minerva sat down to do some marking, but just then the bell rang, and the other teachers stood up to make their way to the great hall. Moody remained, however.
“Well, Minerva,” said Albus, smiling “I don’t know about you, but I’m famished after all that exercise. Shall we go to lunch?”
He held out his arm, but just as she was about to take it, Moody let out a grunt.
“So did you get through the door then?” he asked.
They stopped, and Minerva smiled. “Yes we did, thank you Alastor.”
“And what did you find?”
She was about to reply, when he hurried past them both, muttering that on second thoughts, he didn’t think he wanted to know.
Albus chuckled as they moved towards the door.
“Pity Alastor’s got that magic eye.” he said, patting Minerva discreetly on the behind. “I think he saw right through us.”
“What on earth was that?!” cried Professor Sprout as a sudden bang from the wardrobe startled her out of her chair.
“Boggart” said Flitwick, not bothering to look up from his marking. “It’s been pounding away ever since I came in.”
“Another one? We seem to have an infestation!” The wardrobe shuddered loudly. “Shall I get rid of it?”
She moved towards the handle, but Flitwick looked up from his papers.
“No, wait a sec!“ he said. “Alastor might want it for his third years. He was saying the other day what a good job he thought Lupin had done with last year’s lot.”
Sprout nodded in understanding, and the wardrobe creaked slightly. It gave another random thump and what sounded like a hiccup as she sat down, but she managed to hang on to her coffee without it spilling into her lap.
“Bit vocal this one isn’t it?” she said.
“Hmm?” Flitwick was clearly once again absorbed in his marking.
“I said it’s a bit vocal!” she was forced to raise her voice as the Boggart began to bang with renewed vigour and rhythm, making an incredible noise and rocking the wardrobe back and forth as if it was trying to break out.
“Really? I hadn’t noticed!” Flitwick yelled back. “All I’ve heard is banging!”
“What?” Sprout was straining to hear him.
“I said all I‘ve heard is banging!”
“Nope!” she cried, shaking her head “Didn’t catch that! You what?”
“I SAID…”
His attempt to explain was interrupted by the entrance of Professor Snape, who strode into the staff room like a man on a mission and threw himself, scowling, into his favourite chair.
“That BLOODY POTTER!” he cried, but his cry went unheard as the Boggart embarked on a series of slow but steady bangs, accompanied by a few high pitched squeals.
“What is that infernal racket?!” cried the potions master through clenched teeth.
“BOGGART!!” yelled Sprout and Flitwick together. The slowing rhythm of the bangs had enabled Snape to hear them, but before they could attempt a conversation, the Boggart had decided enough was enough and began to rock with frenziedly. A few more squeals were heard above the crashing, and Snape jumped to his feet in fury.
“Well why haven’t you done something about it?!” he cried
“We thought Alastor might want it. Don’t get rid of it until he’s had a look, Severus.” Flitwick squeaked.
Snape sniffed, but threw himself back in his chair. “He’d better bloody well hurry up.” He said, folding his arms across his chest crossly. “I’m not listening to this all morning.”
Flitwick nodded, and turned back to his work. Sprout rolled her eyes. Snape could be just as intolerable as a Boggart when he was in the mood. But then this was a particularly noisy Boggart…
The door flew open and the man they were all waiting for strode in.
“Aha! Alastor! Just the man!” cried Sprout.
“What is it, Pomona?” Moody growled.
“There’s a Boggart in the wardrobe, do you want it?”
Moody looked over at the wardrobe, which was currently furnishing them with a rendition of bangs that fitted remarkably well to the rhythm of Beethoven’s fifth. He balked as his magical eye caught up with his real one and quickly turned back to his colleagues.
“Boggart?!” he cried.
“Yes! In the wardrobe.” Sprout answered. “Do you want it?”
Moody gave her a horrified look and yelled “No!”
“Right then,” said the herbology Professor “I’ll get rid of it, shall I?”
She moved towards the wardrobe, which seemed to have stopped shaking, but Moody got there first and held the door shut just as she was about to open it.
“Uh…ah, on second thoughts, Pomona, I think I will have it. Set it on the third years, you know. Teach ’em a thing or two…”
His magic eye was spinning furiously, looking in every direction but the wardrobe.
Sprout raised her eyebrows, but shuffled back to her chair. “As you like, Alastor.”
The banging had resumed, and the Boggart seemed to have added the 1812 overture to its repertoire. Moody rushed over to the window, where he stood gazing intently out at the forbidden forest.
“Oh Merlin! I can’t stand this anymore!” cried Snape. “Can’t you move it to your office, Moody?”
“Er…nope, sorry Severus. I don’t have any trunks free at the moment.”
Moody turned quickly back to the window, as if afraid to look at the wardrobe.
The banging had become frenzied, and so loud that Flitwick threw down his quill in resignation.
Suddenly, all went quiet. The banging stopped, and all that could be heard was a muffled squeal, followed closely by what could only be described as a triumphant cry.
The staff were very quiet, wands at the ready. They had all risen and were gradually moving closer to the wardrobe. Only Moody remained where he was, his back to the object of his colleagues’ concern.
“I’m sorry Alastor” Sprout whispered loudly “We’re going to have to deal with this one now…”
Moody turned around quickly to see Professor Sprout with her hand on the handle of the wardrobe. He rushed forward to stop her, but it was too late!
With a huge crash, the wardrobe doors flew open and Albus Dumbledore fell out and hit the floor with a thump, closely followed by Minerva McGonagall and several of the spare robes that seemed to have come off their hangers.
The staff stared in horror as their Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress struggled to their feet and brushed themselves off. Minerva’s hair had fallen out of its customary bun, and Albus’s robes looked distinctly dishevelled.
“Albus Dumbledore! You’re a very BAD man!” cried Minerva, as she moved over to the mirror to tidy her hair, apparently oblivious to the rest of the staff, who were wearing expressions of absolute mortification. Moody had turned back to the window and had his head in his hands. Albus seemed to be chuckling to himself, also seemingly unaware of the presence of the others.
Pomona Sprout swallowed hard.
“Was that…” she began “Oh dear, oh dear…were you…?”
“What?” Minerva asked, turning back to them as her usual immaculate self.
“What were you doing in there together?” Snape demanded, glaring at Dumbledore, who was re-arranging his robes.
Minerva blushed.
“Don’t be embarrassed, Minerva.” said Albus, still chuckling. “I could have done it to any of them.”
The others recoiled at this last sentence, and Professor Sprout fell into a chair, murmuring something about it not being in the job description.
Minerva looked at their horrified faces, and it dawned on her what they were all thinking.
“Good heavens!” she cried “You don’t all think that we were…”
She gasped and put her hand to her mouth.
“Well that’s what it sounded like!” Snape spat.
Minerva sank into a chair and covered her face with her hands.
“No, no, no!” she cried. “NO! How could you think that the headmaster and I would…NO!
We were just trying to get through the door!”
“What door?!”
“The door to Narnia.”
“The WHAT?”
“Haven’t you read “The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe” Severus?” asked Dumbledore. “It’s a muggle children’s book that Minerva is rather partial to…I’m afraid I was in rather high spirits from this morning’s April fools tomfoolery and er…got a bit carried away.”
The teachers continued to stare at them both with a mixture of confusion and disgust.
“I am familiar with that book, Dumbledore.” said Flitwick “But I fail to understand what it has to do with you and Minerva banging away inside a wardrobe like a couple of teenagers!”
“He told me he’d found a door Filius!” explained Minerva, now as red as a member of the Weasley family. “In the back of the staff room wardrobe.”
“And you believed him?!” cried Snape incredulously
“No of course not, but he talked me into looking, and there it was! I tried opening it, but it was stuck fast, so the headmaster came in to help me. That’s what all the banging was about! It just would not open. Merlin! To think that you all thought we were…”
She gasped again and covered her face with her hands.
“Yes, it was a good joke, up to that point.” said Dumbledore with a sigh. “I still don’t understand what made it so difficult to open…”
Snape rolled his eyes.
“Honestly, Professor McGonagall,” Flitwick cried, exasperated. “I would have thought you would know better than to do anything the Headmaster suggests on the 1st of April!”
“Well, I did catch her reading the book the other day, and rather thought I might take advantage of it…” explained Dumbledore as Minerva shrugged.
The other teachers groaned and went back to their seats, each one secretly sighing with relief. Keen as they were for their deputy head and headmaster to deepen their relationship, none of them wanted to be present when it actually happened, so to speak. Flitwick took up his marking, Sprout her coffee, and Snape his scowl.
The only member of staff who had not moved during the entire episode was Moody, who had both real and magical eye fixed on the window.
Minerva sat down to do some marking, but just then the bell rang, and the other teachers stood up to make their way to the great hall. Moody remained, however.
“Well, Minerva,” said Albus, smiling “I don’t know about you, but I’m famished after all that exercise. Shall we go to lunch?”
He held out his arm, but just as she was about to take it, Moody let out a grunt.
“So did you get through the door then?” he asked.
They stopped, and Minerva smiled. “Yes we did, thank you Alastor.”
“And what did you find?”
She was about to reply, when he hurried past them both, muttering that on second thoughts, he didn’t think he wanted to know.
Albus chuckled as they moved towards the door.
“Pity Alastor’s got that magic eye.” he said, patting Minerva discreetly on the behind. “I think he saw right through us.”
x
