Interschool Relations - Wicked Games

Interschool Relations - Wicked Games



Chapter Two: Moodiness





Snape’s pale knuckles rapped against the door to Dumbledore’s office. “Come in, Severus,” Dumbledore’s voice called out.



Harry entered the Headmaster’s office behind Snape and Hermione, his head lowered, trying to figure out how he could explain being on the Durmstrang ship without alerting Snape to the fact that Harry had been spying on him and Karkarov. He glanced up and, to his surprise, saw that the office was in chaos. The silver instruments whirled and emitted puffs of smoke, Fawkes screeched as he caught fire, and three Mad-Eye Moodys stood behind the desk. One struggled against coils of enchanted rope that bound him, his mouth opening ineffectually as he tried to yell through a Silencio charm; the second Moody shrieked “You sack of flobberworm shit!” at the bound Moody; and the third Moody stood calmly but in a dissatisfied manner as he ran his fingers over his scarred face and the crooked lump that was his nose.



Dumbledore gazed into a full-length mirror, admiring the effect of a flowery bonnet he’d placed atop his head. Harry’s eyes widened. Albus Dumbledore’s scrawny, hairy legs were adorned with red fishnet stockings. Additionally, he wore blue galoshes, lacy women’s lingerie, a tweed blazer, and a false moustache stuck rakishly to one of his knees. Dumbledore turned to wave hello, but found himself constrained by a pair of denim blue jeans into which he’d slipped both arms.



Although Snape had entered triumphantly, his black cloak billowing with smugness at having caught two star Gryffindors trespassing after curfew, he became temporarily bewildered by the activity within the Headmaster’s office. He was in no mood for such nonsense, especially after the walk back to the castle with Potter and Granger. Potter, with a typical abysmal failure at subtlety, kept asking about Snape’s visit to the ship, and seemed to be insinuating that Snape and Karkarov were plotting evil deeds, or in a homosexual relationship -- Severus couldn’t quite understand what the green-eyed imbecile was implying.



“Severus, to what do I owe this delightful visit?” Dumbledore said. The false moustache came loose and dropped from his knee, fluttering to the floor. “Alas, I’ve only got a minute. I’m off to the Ministry and then Kingley and I have some business in London, hence these Muggle clothes.”



“Potter and Granger were on the Durmstrang ship,” Snape said coldly, trying to ignore Dumbledore’s costume.



“Ah yes, building interschool relations, very important. I am proud of you two for listening. Friendship between schools is vital in these dark times,” Dumbledore agreed.



“Er, sir, why are there three Professor Moodys?” Harry inquired.



“Well, Harry, I had to figure out how your name emerged from the Goblet of Fire. It’s not the sort of thing one can ignore, after all,” Dumbledore explained while Snape internally fumed at Dumbledore’s misinterpretation of the situation. “I discovered that Barty Crouch Jr., a convicted Death Eater presumed to be dead, had disguised himself as Professor Moody.” He nodded toward the first Moody, bound with ropes. “Crouch put your name in the goblet. He intended to make the Triwizard Cup into a portkey to transport you to Voldemort. I found the real Moody locked in a magical trunk.”



“Wow, great job, sir,” Harry said. In a way, he felt disappointed, like a mystery had been solved early in the school year, before he even knew about it. Fourth year had passed without a dangerous crisis and now it looked like fifth year was going to be tame as well. Harry kind of missed being the hero.



“Well, I am the greatest wizard in the world,” Dumbledore said. “At least, that’s what they tell me.”



Dumbledore finally managed to punch his fist through the leg of the jeans, freeing his hand to sprinkle floo powder in the fireplace. “Ministry of Magic!” he announced. He prodded two of the Mad-Eye Moody’s into the fire, leaving the third, most relaxed Moody in the office. “Help yourselves to some toffees if you like. They’re on my desk,” he said to Snape, Harry, Hermione, and the last Moody. Then Dumbledore vanished into the floo network.



“So you’re the real Moody?” Harry asked the calm Mad-Eye. “I’m kind of confused. Why were there TWO others?”



Hermione was curious as well, but she couldn’t shake the lingering depression that Viktor Krum’s words had caused. She sat in one of the chairs by a table laden with exotic instruments and knick-knacks. Did bushy hair and big teeth really make her so unattractive that Krum would list her as one of the three ugliest girls at Hogwarts? Of course, Krum was a shallow, self-centered jerk who shagged models all the time. She shouldn’t care what he said. But Dimitri hadn’t contradicted Krum, and even Harry hadn’t bothered to say a few words like ‘ignore that prat Krum, you look fine.’



“I’m Lupin,” Moody said to Harry. “Of course, one of the Moodys was Barty Crouch and he’s going to Azkaban. The other Moody was the real Moody. He’s a bit traumatized after being locked in a trunk for two months. Madder than usual. He’s going to St. Mungo’s, very hush-hush, as we’re keeping up the pretense that Barty hasn’t been discovered. So it looks like I’ll be your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for another year, although in disguise.”



“Welcome back, sir,” Harry said warmly.



While Snape asked Lupin some questions about the apprehension of Barty Crouch Jr., Hermione noticed little Ministry tags attached to several of the knick-knacks on the table. They all read ‘Estate of Nicolas Flamel’ and had unique identification codes. They were dated a few days ago. It appeared that Dumbledore either inherited these objects or was given them to analyze, perhaps for the Department of Mysteries. She flipped open the lid of a silver box, tagged as I.D. C406. Inside was a tiny silver statue of a rabbit, which happened to have its head inclined so that its sapphire eyes stared directly at her. The rabbit had two little silver buckteeth sticking out of its mouth. She touched them, Krum’s words burning through her brain again ‘bushy-haired girl with buckteeth…very plain.” She felt like crying.



“…the stupidest plan I’ve ever heard,” Snape was sneering to Lupin. “He was going to make the Triwizard trophy into a Portkey and try to ensure that Potter won the competition and touched it first?”



“To transport Harry to You-Know-Who,” Lupin said, nodding. “Crouch confessed under Veritaserum.”



“So the Dark Lord is back,” Snape muttered. “I suppose if he is restored to full power, I shall have to put in an appearance. Thankfully, Crouch came up with the worst possible plan. If it were my task, I would have made a portkey out of, say, Potter’s toothbrush or his pillow. That way Potter would arrive in the graveyard groggy and defenseless, instead of having honed his skills over an entire year competing in the Triwizard Tournament. If I executed the plan my way, the Dark Lord would already be restored, whole and glorious!” Harry glared at him suspiciously. Lupin, also, seemed disturbed by Snape’s enthusiasm.



Lupin left to unpack his belongings. Snape followed, but first informed Harry and Hermione that, despite Dumbledore’s praise of their actions tonight, they would be serving detentions later that week ‘checking Blast-Ended Skrewts for rectal infections.’



“I guess we’d better get back to the dormitories,” Harry said.



“Actually, I think I’ll stay behind for awhile and have some of those toffees,” Hermione mumbled, unconsciously attempting to smooth down her hair. She couldn’t bear the thought of returning to the Gryffindor dormitory just yet, where Lavender and Parvati would be brushing each others’ hair, discussing the Yule Ball and who might ask them and how pretty they could make themselves.



“Krum is an insensitive git,” Harry told her. “He doesn’t know anything.”



“Thanks, Harry,” Hermione said.



After Harry had gone, Hermione did help herself to one toffee, which she had to pick out of her teeth for five minutes. She thought about how she liked Ron, but he hadn’t asked her out yet. Sometimes he acted like he was attracted to her, but most of the time he treated her like a pal. Was she really attracted to Ron? Hermione had always thought that being friends and trusting one another were the most important qualities in a relationship. Today, however, having seen Viktor and Alicia shag…well, she’d be far too embarrassed to do that with Ron! Was that even a normal way to do it? She knew everyone was going to have sex the night of the Yule Ball. It was only two months away, and she couldn’t imagine any boy asking her. It would be a humiliation almost unparalleled. She buried her face in her hands and sobbed.



“Egads, a student crying in the Headmaster’s office. Appalling,” Phineas Nigellus’ portrait said in haughty tone. “What’s the reason for this ruckus?”



“I’m sorry,” Hermione blubbered. “I just wish I was beautiful. I wish boys found me attractive. It’s never going to happen. I’d pretty much need to be the opposite of who I am now.”



“Sorry I asked,” Phineas muttered.



“It’s all about attitude, my dear,” Dilys Derwent’s portrait said encouragingly. “If you believe you are attractive, your inner glow will radiate. You are quite pretty, you know, although a charm on your hair wouldn’t hurt.”



“She’s got her nose in a book all the time from what I hear,” Phineas remarked. “Wouldn’t even notice if a boy was looking at her.”



“I can’t change my personality,” Hermione said, wiping her tears. “Don’t get me wrong, I like myself the way I am. It’s just, you know, I wish I could be a different person sometimes. I’d like to know what it feels like to have boys like Draco ask me to the Yule Ball instead of calling me an ugly Mudblood.” Draco, she thought with horror, why did I just use Draco as an example?



Armando Dippet’s portrait joined the conversation. “I remember a student who had his nose in library books all the time,” he said. “Wasn’t interested in relationships, but all the ladies were after him. Of course, he was extremely good looking, so it’s a different situation altogether. I wonder what he’s doing now. Probably quite successful.”



“Are you talking about Tom Riddle?” Dilys asked incredulously.



Hermione sensed that staying in Dumbledore’s office was not going to improve her self-esteem. Clearly, even Voldemort could have gotten a date for the Yule Ball. Ginny, despite being used and nearly killed by Tom Riddle, had admitted it was almost worth it because Riddle was ‘sexy as hell, even if he was kind of dead and intangible.’ Apparently, being evil and dead was fine as long as you were gorgeous. Hermione had never felt frizzier or plainer. She thanked the former headmasters for their advice and left the office. To hell with Viktor Krum. Oh, but wouldn’t it be wonderful to suddenly be beautiful and have him drooling over her, so she could turn him down and tell him what a pig he was!



As she drifted to sleep in her bed that night, she alternated fantasizing about Viktor begging her to be his date for the Yule Ball, and remembering what she’d witnessed between Viktor and Alicia, that barbaric, sloppy sex act, so crude and unromantic. Yet, for some reason, the detached expression on Viktor’s face, his hands roughly squeezing Alicia’s breasts, and the way he dropped her when he was done made Hermione’s knickers damp in a way that her fantasies of Ron murmuring ‘my dah-ling’ never could. Hermione hoped she wasn’t attracted to jerks. She wouldn’t want to be treated that way.



In Dumbledore’s office, an invisible creature swirled, deep in thought. The djinn, who had been trapped for a thousand years inside the silver rabbit statue, luxuriated in freedom, stretching its powerful mind across the earth. Finally, a human had released it from captivity and made a wish. This wish, although small in scale, was vastly more vague and complicated than previous requests the djinn had received throughout the millenia, such as raising armies of the undead or conjuring rooms filled with treasure. What this teenager seemed to want was a duplicate Hermione, more beautiful, more attractive to purebloods. And the girl wanted the ability to experience such a lifestyle some of the time, while retaining her own self. How best to execute this wish? The djinn thought some more.