Great Collaboration of Doom 8
Chapter Eight: In Which Harry Bewails His Sorrows
Unbeknownst to the student body as a whole, the Hog’s Head was a popular haunt of the teachers of Hogwarts. At least, to those of a certain persuasion. Dumbledore (back before he was dead and alive again) had been amused to learn that Harry and his little gang had used the inn as a meeting-place for their first DA (something he still considered to mean a teddy-boy’s hairstyle) meeting.
And if not, the neon gogo-dancer on the roof outside was an enormous sign. Quite gigantic, in fact.
“Gosh,” said Dumbledore as they walked in, “that sign’s really huge.”
“I’ll say,” said Snape, raising an eyebrow, “I’ve met the model for it.”
They bought drinks at the bar (Dumbledore’s had a pink umbrella, Snape’s a green sparkly thing) and sat at a table. The atmosphere was good. It was a busy night, with wizards hanging around, cruising the others in the bar and generally having a good time.
“I don’t know why you insist on bringing me here, Albus,” muttered Severus. “I always feel that I’m being looked at.”
“You’re worth looking at,” said Dumbledore, clinking glasses with Snape.
“You old flatterer.”
“You love it.”
Over at the bar the barman was making a Cosmopolitan for Mundungus Fletcher, who was yet again dressed as a witch. All sorts came into the Hog’s Head, after all.
“That wizard over there’s eyeing me up,” said Snape suspiciously, “and making – oh Merlin! – the lewdest gestures with his wand.”
“Just ignore him,” said Dumbledore, catching his companion’s hands in his own. “He’s nothing.”
“Oh, Albus, your hands are so cold now. Since the whole death-and-reanimation thing.”
“Then you shall have to warm them, my dear Severus.”
“What, in public?”
“Ladies and gentlemen!” came the announcement from the emcee, who was dolled up for the occasion in purple dragonhide robes and a corset. “The one you’ve all been waiting for! It’s… the Neighbour!”
As a wizard tottered onto the specially-erected stage on unfeasibly high heels, Snape turned to Albus.
“I thought you said that bloke from Neighbours! This is the Neighbour, the guy from next door! Merlin, if I have to sit through him massacring ‘Edelweiss’ one more time…”
“Let’s go,” said Albus, standing up, “that arse crooning in that appalling falsetto is hardly conducive to seduction.” He cursed silently. He wouldn’t be getting any that night.
“Back to the castle?” suggested Snape. “No doubt the children will have managed some damage they need us to clean up.”
“Absolutely.”
Arm in arm, they headed back to the castle, to see what awaited them there. Albus smiled and twinkled briefly, remembering the bottle of Firewhisky in his cupboard. Maybe later he could persuade Severus to have a nightcap in his rooms, and then maybe coffee. Morning coffee.
Their wish to avoid music, however, didn’t come true.
Arriving back at the castle, they meandered back down to the kitchens, pausing outside by the portrait of the fruit bowl when they heard singing coming from inside. A three-part harmony of Death Eaters, students and house elves, in fact. “Listen Severus,” said Dumbledore brightly. “I think they’re singing about us.”
… “Thus sung poor Harry,
His sorrow bewailing,
Thus sung poor Harry,
In the tower above.
“Oh, don’t deceive me,
Oh, never leave me,
How could you kill
The Headmaster so?
“Oh, don’t deceive me,
Oh, never leave me,
How could you kill
The Headmaster so?”
Dumbledore hummed the tune as the last strains died away. “Wasn’t that lovely? Let’s go in and give them a round of applause.”
Snape put his hand on Dumbledore’s arm to stop him from tickling the painted pear. “Headmaster, aren’t you at all concerned? The situation was rather different in there before we left.”
Waving a dismissive hand, Dumbledore shook his head. “Of course not. You know what teenagers and their mood swings are like.”
*****
Harry stroked his (irritatingly-beardless) chin thoughtfully. “So, we just have to entice Snape in here. But he’s gone off with Dumbledore!”
Hermione and Ginny, avid slashers both, had sudden chills run down their spines. “Eww…”
“Don’t worry,” said Neville unexpectedly. “I … kind of dosed Snape with some Infelix Infortunium earlier…”
“Some what?” asked Harry, never the crunchiest apple in the barrel.
“Bad luck potion,” said Hermione, starting off on her usual know-it-all rant. “It’s like last year when Slughorn had the Luck virus and the Sexual Magnetism virus.” She paused, playing with her lip. Every male in the room sighed. “No, wait, I mean the Felix Felicis and the Amortentia. You wait, next it’ll be a potato-peeling virus that eats clothes. And hair.”
“Okay…” Harry backed away slowly and turned back to Neville. “You did what?”
“It was just sitting there on the shelf when I was in his rooms earlier tonight.” Neville blushed. “Labelled ‘Infelix Infortunium: For dosing H.P.’. I wondered who H.P. was for a while and then my mind wandered. The bottle was very shiny, obviously very well used. And I just kind of accidentally got some in Snape’s mouth.”
“How?” asked Ron, not really wanting to know but feeling unexpectedly hot and bothered at the possibilities.
“I… kind of… kissed him.”
“What!” It was a chorus.
“I Obliviated him afterwards! And I Obliviated any watchers or chroniclers who might have been watching. You never know, you know.”
To everyone’s bemusement, Hermione looked upwards, appearing to be reading something. “You’re all right,” she said after a few minutes, “it’s not written in there. Oh my! The things that went on while we were asleep!”
“Anyway,” said Harry, fruitlessly trying to gain control again. “You dosed Snape with Infelix Infortunium?
Why?”
Neville looked at the floor. “…don’t like him…”
“Oh, well, that’s fair enough,” said Harry. “So, if he’s back soon, what shall we do? Will he come back in here, do you reckon? And on a side note, where did we leave Voldemort?”
“I think he’s on the floor over there,” said Ginny. “For some reason, he thinks he’s a big purple dinosaur.”
“I think we should sing,” said Cuthbert the Death Eater suddenly. “After all, we’re very good at it. That’s why we all wear matching outfits,” he confided, “it makes us feel like a chorus line.”
“How will singing help?” questioned Harry.
Hermione grinned and adjusted her strips of fabric. “I think I see. Snape’s with Dumbledore, and Dumbledore will be attracted by singing. It’s a twinkly old man thing, like tea and biscuits. I bet he’d murder his grandchildren for a Werther’s Original.”
“There’s something I don’t quite understand,” said Ron slowly. He had been turning it over in his mind. “How’s Snape so intimately… sorry, inextricably linked with Voldemort?”
Barney McGrew leered beneath his mask. “Dark spells…”
All the teenagers pulled faces. “Eww…”
“Let’s sing!” announced Harry quickly. They did.
“Early one night
Just as the cloud was forming
I heard Harry sing
On the tower above.
“Oh, don’t deceive me,
Oh, never leave me,
How could you kill
The Headmaster so?
“Remember the vows
That you gave to your Albus
Remember the promise
That you made to be true.
“Oh, don’t deceive me,
Oh, never leave me,
How could you kill
The Headmaster so?
“Oh, gay are your feelings
We know you loved old James
You transferred that to Harry
We know it to be true…
“Oh, don’t deceive me… etc.”
Thus it was that Snape and Dumbledore were lured back into the kitchens…
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Collaborative Fanfic