Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

ACT 1 SCENE 1 - DON'T WANNA GO BACK TO HOGWARTS

It was the summer after their second year at Hogwarts, when Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny found themselves together at the Burrow enjoying the final days of summer. As Harry absent-mindedly attempted to tune his guitar, Ginny sat next to him reading all about the latest wizard scandals in a brightly coloured teen magazine, while Ron gazed down at Hermione’s head in his lap as he gently stroked her backcombed hair.

Eventually, Harry gave up trying to find the note he was looking for, as he caught Ron's eye.

"Hey man," he said with a rare sincerity, "thanks for letting me stay here over the summer."

“No problem - you’re my best mate. Plus we’ll be back at Hogwarts in only a few short weeks.”

While Ron grinned at the thought, Harry seemed significantly less enthused as he sighed melodramatically into the middle distance.

“I don’t know, I mean Hogwarts is really going to suck without Dumbledore this year. I really miss him you know, he was like a father figure to me."

"But Harry,” Hermione said, her face screwed up in confusion as she turned her head to look across at him, “you barely knew him, you literally only spoke to him like twice?”

"Yeah, I know, but I sung like a whole song about him – well, half a song, although I definitely felt like someone far away was harmonising. Someone maybe in, I don't know, Azkaban? It went like and I'm missing yoOoUu..."

"Chills, literal chills" Ron said fanning himself as Ginny squealed in excitement. "But you know who Hogwarts is going to suck, and I mean really suck, without next year? Professor Snape.”

"Professor Snape" Harry agreed.

"He was just like the most awesomest, most sexiest,"

"Most bravest" added Harry.

"Most awesome hair,"

"Most best wizard,"

"Most bestest wizard ever," Ron concluded.

Hermione sat up as she looked over at the pair of them with the incredulity of someone who had just been punched. "Are you guys fucking kidding me? Are you forgetting that snape killed Dumbledore?! And Harry, have you forgotten that time in our first year when he got really drunk and started talking about wanting to motorboat your mother's boobies. Not to mention, I am pretty sure he had a butt trumpet!"

"Ugh Hermione!” groaned Ron as he rolled his eyes, “why’ve you got to be so goddam negative all the time?”

"Yeah Hermione," agreed Harry. "Why can't you just be cool! And hey, leave my mother's boobies out of this.”

"Okay, woah, woah, woah," said Ron doing a complete 180, as he stood up and wagged his finger in Harry’s direction, “WOAH! I love you man, but you cannot talk about my girlfriend like that, she may be a totally awful, annoying, hideous, night-troll-looking-"

"Night-troll-looking" agreed Harry.

"Night-troll-looking buzzkill" Ron finished, "but she's my hideous night-troll-looking, buzzkill girlfriend!"

He reached over to put his arm around her waist, adding for good measure, “although I will go back to calling you Herman if you don’t start being cool!”

"Oh my god forget it! Both of you! I'm going to go see if your mother wants any help!"

Hermione shrugged off his arm and stormed off the stage, slamming the door behind her as she went. Ron stood up and looked at the door she had just left through with a troubled expression on his face. "Do you think she's mad at me?"

"Nah" Harry answered disinterestedly, as he had already gone back to strumming away at his guitar.”

"Women, you know - they're just so hard to understand!", Ron concluded, as he sat back down and shook his head.

"Well, I don't know about that.” Harry replied, tickling Ginny under the armpit, who squealed in delight. "Hey, hey Ginny, check out this new song I wrote for you - it goes something like this: I'm Harry Freaking Potter …” he mumbled the lyrics as he banged his head back and forth and played a dissonant chord sequence on his still out of tune guitar. Ron, meanwhile, held his head in his hands like a kicked puppy as he tried to think what he could possibly have done wrong.

“Anyway it’s something like that,” Harry said, as he stopped playing when the lyrics to his own song slipped his mind. “But yeh, no Snape? No Dumbledore? No Lupin? And it’s not like there’s going to be anymore super cool awesome bad guys to defeat. It’s almost like I don’t want to go back to Hogwarts this year?”

“Well you could always try transferring to Pigfarts,” Ginny joked.

“Ginny, the day I transfer to Pigfarts is the day you can shoot me in the fucking head.”

“I wonder who they’ll get to be defence against the dark arts teacher now that everyone’s dead?” asked Ron.

“I don’t know but I heard Lucius Malfoy’s taking over dance class,” Ginny answered.

“Oh neat,” commented Harry, remembering the wonderful display he had performed for him when he had held him captive. It wasn't often that one saw such a scintillating blend of ballet and modern while trapped in a hostage situation. “Wasn’t he arrested for trying to kill us in our first year though?”

“I think he’s doing it from Azkaban over wizard zoom,” she answered.

“Doesn’t really matter though it’s not like we’d go to class anyway,” replied Ron “literally no one other than Hermione does that. Oh well, at least when we’re back at Hogwarts we won’t have to do any more stupid chores.”

Harry quite agreed, he had folded enough socks in the past week to last him a lifetime. “Yeh why can’t your mum just get house elves to do it like everyone else?”

“I don’t know apparently its slavery or something but like there’s no ethical consumption under capitalism so I don’t really get her point. You know sometimes I wish she’d just-”

“YOU WISH I'D JUST WHAT?!?!” a shrill voice screamed from offstage.

Ron leaped up in horror as he recognised his mother’s voice. “Mom?!” he screamed back, looking around the room, “are you listening to everything we’re saying?”

There was a telling pause before Mrs Weasley shouted back, “NO?”

“Well clearly you are, can you just leave us the fuck alone!”

"DO YOU KISS YOUR MOTHER WITH THAT MOUTH?!" she hollered back aghast.

"No because she's too busy spying on me!" He turned and muttered to Harry, “god she’s worse than Hermione.”

“AT LEAST HERMIONE GIVES ME A HAND AROUND HERE!” Mrs Weasley screamed back.

Ron looked around, baffled at how she could have heard him. “Mom, we killed Voldemort, we don’t need to do housework!”

"YEH, AND I SQUEEZED SEVEN KIDS OUT OF MY VAGINA, SO LOOK WHO'S MR TOUGH GUY NOW. COME OWN HERE AND HELP ME FOLD THESE SOCKS OR I'LL COME UP THERE AND FOLD YOU!"

“Eugh fine I’m coming,” he groaned as he began to move reluctantly towards the door. “Do not have sex on my bed,” he added pointing at Harry and Ginny, who held their hands up in defence of their innocence.

As Ron went to open the door, however, he found that his path was blocked by a small blonde figure wearing a long set of wizard’s robes who barged straight past him and loudly declared in an inexplicably English accent: "Did somebody say Draco Malfoy!?"

Instantly, Ron spun round and grabbed him by his small shoulders to try and push him back out the door, while somewhere far off, an audience elicited a deafening cheer.

“No, no one said that!” exclaimed Harry as he too stood up in anger, “get the fuck out of here Malfoy!”

Draco began to wiggle and flail his whole body dramatically to try and avoid Ron’s grasp as Harry came over to try and pin his arms behind his back.

Drawn by the sound of the commotion, Hermione re-entered the room from the other door, with her arms folded in a huff. “Okay, what the hell is going on here, me and your mother are out there folding everyone socks all by ourselves and -?”. She trailed off as she noticed Draco, who was now being successfully pinned to the floor by Harry’s knee while Ron tried to drag him out the door. “Wait Draco? What are you doing here?”

“He’s leaving!” declared Ron, who moved round to put him in a headlock.

"Ron, stop!" she declared, as Ron dutifully loosened his grip around Draco’s head, although he still looked entirely unconvinced.

“Thank you, although I had the situation perfectly under control.” Draco said pompously as he slowly stood up and brushed himself off. Ron and Harry both looked like they were a few seconds from trying to rip his head off again, as Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Guys don’t you remember in our first year how Malfoy risked his life to help us stop Lucius and Umbridge?”

"Yeh, but in our second year, the year we literally just had, he was just like this annoying douche, who literally sold us all out to Voldemort!” Ron answered.

"Yes, but the Malfoy who helped us in our first year was actually the Malfoy from after our second year who travelled back in time. So this Malfoy, the current Malfoy, would be the Malfoy from our first year who helped us out and is now a good guy!”

Ron stared quizzically at Hermione for a while, as he tried to make sense of what she’d just said. "No, I'm confused! And Malfoy doesn’t even feel like a real word anymore you just said it so many times."

"Yes, well, at least it didn't involve any bizarre queer-bait shipping of our future children and Voldemort having a secret time travelling child with Bellatrix Lestrange, because I think we can all agree that would make absolutely no sense whatsoever,” answered Hermione to much agreement.

"Whatever,” Ron said turning back to Draco. “What do you want?"

"Well chaps,” he began as he strutted about the stage with an unearned air of dignity, “I had to return to Hogwarts because I had left behind my pack of extra soft diapers, you know the ones with the padding in the front for- Well I’m sure I don’t need to explain the importance of penile chaffing prevention to respectable wizards such as yourself," he added noticing that Harry, Ron and Hermione’s facial expressions were currently ranging from disgust to abject horror.

“Get to the point Malfoy,” Harry spat, looking eager to return to kicking him off the premises.

"Well anyway, I was rummaging around the Gryffindor boys’ dormitory looking for them, when I found this." He produced a large tea-stained scroll of parchment from behind his back, from which he began to read:

“Dear Harry, Ron and Hermione…” he paused for a second looking confused, before he looked up and adding “ahh clearly it used to say: ‘and Draco also’, but that bit must have been removed by magic.”

Stared down by the increasing threat in Harry’s eyes, he continued: “Dear” he mumbled to the end of the first line to hide the omission of his own name, and then continued with the rest of the note “Please transfer to Pigfarts immediately - Dumbledore needs your help!”

“What kind of sick joke is this? ‘Dumbledore needs our help’? That doesn’t make any sense, he’s dead!” exclaimed Harry, shaking his head. "I saw him when I died, he was there. So what are you suggesting he's come back from the dead or something because that's not possible, I should know I've done it.”

"Well Harry,” Hermione asked hesitantly “how do you know you were actually dead?"

"What do you mean ‘how do I know I was dead’, Voldemort killed me, then I was at King's Cross Station, and Dumbledore was there too, and he told me I was dead, and something about love and a whole bunch of other shit I didn't understand. So yeh I’m pretty fucking sure we were both dead."

"Harry please don’t take this the wrong way, but how likely do you think it is that heaven’s on the Piccadilly Line?"

"Well, that would make hell Acton Town, so that does sound about right" Malfoy added unhelpfully.

“Also there is a nightclub called Heaven just off the Bakerloo line,” Ginny said, putting a hand on Harry’s shoulder which he immediately shrugged off.

"No actually Harry, I think Hermione might have a point,” Ron began, "now I may be a wizard who's grown up entirely in the wizarding world with Floo Powder and apparition and broomsticks, so there's no way I would ever have even been near the London Underground. But even I know that if heaven is anywhere, it’s on the Jubilee Line."

Harry stepped several paces backwards as his brain struggled to comprehend the implications of what his friends were saying.

"So what? Dumbledore just straight up lied to me?"

"I’m just suggesting he might not have told you everything.” Hermione answered sensitively.

Harry shook his head. "No, Dumbledore always told me everything! Apart from that time when he didn’t tell me I was a horcrux, or that other time when he said the Triwizard Tournament was safe, or when he didn't tell me about Snape secretly being a bad guy, or when he didn't tell me about Snape secretly being a good guy, and also that other time when he left me to grow up with those assholes who locked me in a cupboard and also lied to me about me not being a wizard, and never explained why on any of that. But apart from those times, Dumbledore would never have lied to me!" Harry's voice softened as he began to tear up, "He just respected me too much."

"Oh, and there was also that time when he didn’t tell you about the prophecy," suggested Ron.

"What prophecy?" asked Harry.

"Doesn’t matter anymore," Ron responded.

Hermione walked up to Harry and put her hand softly on his arm, "I know you don’t want to hear this, but do you remember how he always said he loved Zeffron the most? Well once I overheard him and Snape talking about High School Musical 3: Senior Year, and he said he thought it was a complete let down.”

"No,” he cried sounding absolutely scandalised, “I can’t believe I’m hearing this! That doesn't make any sense - Senior Year was brilliant! I mean sure, it wasn’t properly rehearsed, but at its core, it was a beautiful tale about moving on that was full of brilliant comedic moments, but also wasn't afraid to embrace a more serious side to itself. Also, some of the later performances of the songs with better sound quality are absolutely incredible. And you know what, who fucking cares if it didn’t have the same production value as the others, at least they came together and gave us that conclusion, and if anything, that adds to the spirit of the show. They wrapped everything up, the ending was beautiful, and honestly if Dumbledore can’t respect Senior Year, well, I'm not sure how that makes me feel. Also, that mouse scene was just fucking genius."

Hermione stared at him blankly for a few moments, trying to remember when mice were even mentioned in the High School Musical trilogy. "Look, I'm just saying I don't know if we can be sure that Dumbledore was always entirely honest with us."

Harry sat down and took several deep breaths as he tried to gather his thoughts. None of this made any sense, Dumbledore was the most honest, trustworthy, and not to mention most sexiest wizard he had ever met. And if Dumbledore was alive why couldn’t he just tell them what was going on himself, rather than relying on them finding a stupid trail of clues as if they were Hufflepuffs.

“Who sent this stupid letter anyway?” he asked in resignation.

“Ahh yes it says here at the bottom signed No D.” Draco answered as he studied the scroll of parchment.

“Well, what the fuck could that possibly mean?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” implored Malfoy, with an unearned aura of smugness. “When respectable wizards write letters, they sign them off with vital information about the size of their wiener.”

“Nope” said Ron. “Literally never heard of that” agreed Harry.

“Well do you remember," Malfoy answered "when Dumbledore was writing secret notes to Umbridge, he always signed them off as Big D, which referred to his penis, and when I wrote those secret notes to you three in your first year, I signed them off with Little D, in reference to this size of my penis. So clearly the question we need to ask ourselves is: who has no penis?”

“But everyone has a penis?” asked Harry looking extremely confused.

“Oh my god!” declared Hermione throwing her hands up in anger, “Most women - literally half of all people do not have penises!”

“Well, unless it was you or Ginny, that doesn’t really help, does it?! I don’t know why, but we just don’t know any other women, at least not any with actual personalities, really at all in this whole entire universe. You know what it’s like, it’s like if everyone we know and everything about our lives was made up in a book or something, and then the person who wrote that book came out claiming to be some sort of radical feminist, I’d be a little bit sceptical.”

“Okay, so if we know it can’t have been a woman” continued Ron, to Hermione’s exasperation, “then who could it have been?” He paused, brows furrowed in concentration, before smacking his forehead and exclaiming “OH! It must be Snape, he had his penis bitten off by that snake!”

“Yes, he had his penis bitten off by the highly poisonous coral snake that killed him!” said Hermione.

“Could it be Sirius Black?” asked Malfoy, to perplexed stares. “Well, we never saw his penis, and he always seemed like he’d make an excellent vagina, same with Professor Lupin actually, now I think about it.”

“Any suggestions of people who aren’t dead?” Hermione asked in frustration.

“Hedwig?” tried Ginny.

As they continued to bat increasingly ludicrous answers back and forth Harry decided to interject. “We’re not going to find out just by guessing. If we want to find out what’s going on, we need to go to Mars. Dumbledore could be in serious trouble for all we know, in fact that’s probably why he didn’t reach out to us himself. Hogwarts is totally going to blow this year anyway now that everyone’s dead, so yeh fuck it, let’s transfer to Pigfarts!”

“Is this where you wanted me to shoot you?” Ginny asked.

“No but if this letter turns out to be some sort of trick,” Harry answered walking up to Draco, “then you can shoot him.”

Ginny nodded although looked somewhat unsure of how literally she should be taking these instructions.

“You know I quite agree” announced Malfoy, as Harry looked somewhat sickened. “I’m glad I could finally bring you chaps round to deciding to come join me on Pigfarts. Aside from the fact that all the members of staff are talking animals, the place has an absolutely fascinating history did you know it was originally established as a corporate research facility, oh and of course the infamous Martian pleasure springs are absolutely renowned throughout the galaxy–“

“I swear to God Malfoy I will push you off a moon rock.” Ron bellowed as Draco started to sidle towards Hermione with a suggestive look in his eye.

"Guys aren’t you forgetting something, we can't go to Pigfarts! It's on Mars - we need a Rocketship!" stated Hermione.

"I was thinking about that" said Malfoy, "of course, Lord Voldemort promised me a rocket ship in an unbreakable vow, but it seems unlikely he'll be able to make good on that agreement now he’s dead. Although I am wondering if anything in this mysterious bag labelled 'Massive Rocket' that I found in my father’s office could be of any use to us on that front..." Malfoy pulled a plastic bag out from behind one of the benches they had been sitting on, and retrieved its contents, proclaiming, "By God! It's a galaxy-traversing Rocketship!"

"Oh, look, wow! And it's made of cardboard!" exclaimed Harry. "Cool!" agreed Ron.

“Wait a minute, won’t we need space suits as well?” Harry asked.

Draco rummaged around behind the bench again and pulled out a box labelled ‘Invisible Spacesuits’.

“One step ahead of you there, invisible spacesuits, the latest in space fashion technology. I found them in my father’s office next to the rocket and thought I should bring a couple along.” Malfoy announced proudly as he began to mime pulling items out from the box and handing them out to Harry and Hermione. He moved to hand the third and final invisible spacesuit to Ginny, but before she could take it Ron had snatched it from the air near Malfoy’s hand and claimed it for himself.

“Wow these are incredibly light weight!” Hermione exclaimed as she mimed pulling it up and over her body.

“Although mine’s a little tight around the stomach,” Ron added as he stretched the new material out.

“Well it looks like we’re off to Pigfarts!” Harry announced, as everyone began to feel at least a little excited at the prospect of their up-coming adventure.

"Pigfarts! Pigfarts! Pigfarts!” Ginny began to chant as she waved her arms in excitement, but her exuberance was short lived as Mrs Weasley came barging in through the same door Draco had entered through. “Oh no you don’t, young lady!” she said, jabbing her finger in her daughter’s direction, “you are not going to Pigfarts.”

“Mom, again, were you listening this whole time?” Ron grunted in frustration.

"But Mom, we have to go to Mars to find out if Dumbledore’s still alive so we can help him,” implored Ginny.

"You four can go” said Mrs Weasley, indicating to Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco, “You’re 13 years old now, you’re basically adults, you can make your own decisions. But Ginevra, you are only 12, the only spells you know are Lumos, Alohamora and Jelly Legs Jinx - I’m sorry darling, but you’re just not old enough.”

Tears began to well up in Ginny’s eyes, as she looked to Harry for support against her mother.

Harry put his hand kindly on her shoulder. "You know Ginny, she might be right” he said kindly, “maybe you’re not old enough yet. We know second year spells like tickling hexes and squishie-toushie charms, and those could be really useful on Mars."

This did little to comfort Ginny, who began to sob and said “But Harry, I thought you wanted us to be together. You said this wasn’t going to be like Spider Man!”

“It’s not, Ginny” he implored, taking her hands in his and looking deep into her eyes romantically. “Now it’s more like Thor, because I’ve got to go to space and you’re not going to go to space.”

“But Jane Foster only doesn’t go back to Asgard with Thor because Natalie Portman was too cool to be in those movies!”

“Yes but Natalie Portman’s also too cool to be in this. Look Ginny, HP’s gotta go to Mars and find Dumbledore, but listen, listen - ” he pulled her in closer, “I’ll bring you back a Mars bar –that’s a promise. And I definitely won’t go to the infamous Martian pleasure springs without you, okay.”

“Also Malfoy only brought four invisible spacesuits with him so you’d die in like three seconds if you came with us,” explained Ron, before considering the implications, “Actually, no that’s a good point maybe you should come along.”

“I was hoping you would be the one without the spacesuit,” Draco grumbled, but just before Ron could process what he had said they were interrupted, as Mr Weasley walked in from the side, wearing a green, pointed hat and carrying an old-fashioned muggle camera.

“You kids off to Pigfarts? Wowee! Quick, let me get a picture of you all before you go!”

He took the camera off his neck and aimed it at the kids, who were pulling an interesting series of poses, before he dropped it on the floor in a thundering clash and declared “I think I got it!”

“Well then” said Harry, putting his arm around Ron, “Pigfarts, Pigfarts here we come!”

“Pigfarts! Pigfarts! Pigfarts!” said Ron and Harry together, echoing Ginny’s chant from before.

And so, they all grabbed hold of the rocket ship as Mr Weasley screamed out after them: “Good luck kids! Don’t let the Martians eat you!” before twirling backwards off stage with Ginny and Mrs Weasley. Cardboard stars, planets and even Captain Marvel floated past them, whilst our young space adventurers jogged on the spot, chanting ‘Rocket fuel power, rocket fuel power’, as they made their way across the solar system to Mars.

Chapter Text

ACT 1 SCENE 2 - I WELCOOoOOoOOOOOo000OME ALL OF YOU TO PIGFARTS

As they arrived on Mars, which looked suspiciously like Earth, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco disembarked from their cardboard rocket ship by taking a big dramatic step and tossing it to the side.

“Wow I am dizzy,” Ron proclaimed as he wiped his brow dramatically.

“Well we did just travel over 300 million miles in about 10 seconds, so you’re bound to feel a little off colour,” replied Malfoy with more than a hint of condescension in his voice.

Looking around at their new surroundings, they found that the wooden blocks that had previously represented the Burrow were now occupied by several, if not four, rows of Pigfarts students who were all talking and laughing excitedly ahead of the new school year, while various professors milled around them. Unlike at Hogwarts, all of the Pigfarts students and teachers were animals, and as such sported an array of different animal masks and ornamentations, from a young boy wearing a jaguar mask on his face, to a person carrying a full-on puppeteered purple bug. Amongst this menagerie, Harry noticed an incredibly tall person who was bent down on all fours with a cuddly toy lion in a wizard’s hat glued to the top of his head.

“Hey, Malfoy is that Rumbleroar, the talking lion headmaster you were always telling us about?” Harry asked pointing to the lion man, hardly daring to believe he was actually reaal.

“Ah yes! Professor Rumbleroar!” proclaimed Malfoy, walking up to him, with his hand outstretched. “My name’s Draco Malfoy. Can I just say, big fan!”

“Ahh yes! Exchange program students,” Rumbleroar said in a deep, warm voice “I hope you manage to make the most of this rewarding and invaluable opportunity to practice your Martian. First of all, we’ll have to put you into houses; our four houses are Poppycock, Bumfuzzle, Scuttlebutt and Codswallop. We used to just put everyone that looked like a good guy into Bumfuzzle, everyone who looked like a bad guy into Scuttlebutt, those who were particularly good finders into Codswallop and everyone else into the other one, but since the emergence of new research about the sketchy scientific nature of personality tests, we now sort based purely on species taxonomy. So, since the four of you are all bi-pedal mammals you may sit with the Bumfuzzle house for the duration of your year at Pigfarts.”

“Wicked” said Ron.

“Go Bumfuzzle!” proclaimed Harry.

“And do you guys have a scarf of sexual preference or anything?” Ron asked, “I feel like I could do with an update on that one.”

A strangely weary look passed across Rumbleroar's face as Ron mentioned the name of Scarfy. “No, we do not employ any scarves at Pigfarts in a professional capacity. Here are the ties for your new houses,” he added, handing out a red and gold striped tie to each of them.

“Do you know I don’t think these colours suit my complexion,” said Malfoy to himself in disgust, as he held the red and gold tie up against his face.

“If you will, please take a seat over there with the rest of the Bumfuzzles,” he gestured towards the benches to the left, and began to walk off, but was stopped as Harry grabbed him by the shoulder.

“Hey Rumbleroar,” he asked, “we came here to see if anyone knows anything about Professor Dumbledore from back on Earth? You haven’t heard anything about him recently have you?”

“Ahh yes, well I guess we’ll have to wait and see,” Rumbleroar answered with a knowing wink.

“What do you mean? Do you know something about him?” Hermione asked.

“Is he still alive?” added Harry.

“All I’m saying is you’ll have to wait and see,” he said with the same knowing wink as before.

Hermione motioned to ask a follow up question, but it was clear that Rumbleroar wanted no further part in this particular conversation as he quickly busied himself with talking to other students, and her attempts to regain his attention fell on deaf ears.

“Okay so that was the most suspicious thing I’ve ever seen in my life, he definitely knows something,” Harry pointed out.

“Yep for sure,” agreed Ron.

As they resigned themselves to the fact that they might have to ask around a bit to find what they needed they went to go and take their seats, noticing as they did so two familiar human faces amongst the crowd of animals.

“Flying crumpets - it’s Arry Po’’er!!!!!!” screamed Seamus Finnegan in a thick Cockney accent as he stood up to hug them, while Dean Thomas adjusted his hat by his side.

"Seamus, Dean! What the hell are you guys doing here?" Harry said as he high fived the pair of them.

"Martian exchange" Dean answered.

"Yeh we is slipping behind on our Martian innit" added Seamus.

As they caught up with Dean and Seamus, telling each other stories about their respective summers, the four of them sat down and put on their new school ties. Hermione tied hers in a standard half Windsor, while Draco and Ron used a ridiculous knot known only to British 13 year olds that makes them almost as wide as they are long, because nothing says fuck you to authority like looking like a bit of a tit. Harry, meanwhile, was just pleased to have managed not to trap his tie underneath his top button this time around.

“Seamus, I’ve always wanted to ask” Malfoy began, “If you’re Irish, then how come you sound Cockney?”

“OH MY GOD MALFOY” said Ron, scandalised “you can’t just ask people why they’re Cockney!”

Seamus waved him off “Nah it’s okay, me mam’s a witch and me dad’s from Tower Hamlets. Bit of a shock when she found out.”

At long last, Professor Rumbleroar seemed ready to begin his welcome speech, as he moved to the centre stage and bellowed with a deafening roar, “RUMMMMBLEROOAARRR!!” which silenced all the students at once.

As he stood, he was surrounded by a selection of anthropomorphic professors, including one woman to his right, who was struggling to maintain her balance in the cheap plastic fish tail that was wrapped around her legs, that Draco instantly recognised as Professor McGonnagills from his father’s stories. But it was two professors in particular who caught their eye for the sole reason that they both seemed to be human. One of them, a grey haired man in a black turtle neck was stood with his hands in his pockets and hips thrust allruingly to one side as if he was trying to draw as much attention to himself as possible, while the other seemed content to lurk far back in the shadows, where he was almost fully obscured by low quality lighting. However, the strangest thing about the second man was neither this nor the sheepish frown on his face, but rather the fact of how similar he looked to Albus Dumbledore. Right down to the bathrobe, shower shoes and purple wizards hat on his head, this man was the spitting image of their old headmaster, and were it not for the fact that he was wearing a fake beard, Harry, Ron and Hermione would be very curious about his identity indeed. However, since he was wearing a fake beard, any resemblance could be nothing more than coincidental as far as they were concerned.

“Welcome, welcome, welcome Pigfarts!” Rumbleroar began in his slow, dulcet tone “Welcome froggies, birds and mules! And I would also like to extend a very warm welcome to our human visitors from Earth who are here as part of the new Martian exchange program which we hope will be a triumphant success.”

Harry, Ron, Seamus and Dean all let out a loud whoop and began to high five each other at their acknowledgement but stopped as Rumbleroar shot them down with a confused and unimpressed glare. Clearly their new headmaster was not as into whooping as Dumbledore had been.

“First off”, he continued “I have some very happy news to announce. Following NASA’s recent discovery of water on Mars we at long last have the opportunity to fill our hidden swimming pool,” he paused before adding, “once we have found it of course.”

"Where's Cedric when you need him?" Ron whispered loudly to Harry.

"Dead," he answered.

Rumbleroar continued. "I would also like to announce a new staffing appointment. This year, for the first time ever, Pigfarts will be running a musical theatre class!"

This proclamation led to much excited murmuring from the students, especially from Harry who was already playing air guitar and Draco who pulled a dramatic yet tortured pose as if he were re-enacting Hamlet.

"Here to explain more, it is my deepest pleasure to introduce our new musical theatre Professor, all the way from Hatchetfield, Earth. Give a warm Martian welcome to Professor Hidgens!"

There was rambunctious applause, particularly from Ron, as the grey haired man they had noticed earlier stepped forward and bowed dramatically.

"Welcome one and all, welcome to Pigfarts!" he said in a serious, yet seductive mid-Atlantic accent, “Professor Rumbleroar, if I may, I have prepared something of a school song.”

Rumbleroar began to reply “Well I don’t think we have time-”, but was cut off by Ron who stood up and loudly cried out “Fucking go for it!”

“Very well, if you insist!” replied Professor Hidgens who had already been wheeling out a keyboard, “Here it is!”

He sat down and began to play a staccato melody as he sang:

PIGFARTS PIGFARTS HERE I COME

PIGFARTS PIGFARTS YUM YUM YUM

Draco stood up and began to protest "no no no that's my song", but as he wasn’t much taller standing than he had been sitting, his protests went unnoticed.

PIGFARTS PIGFARTS YOU'LL BE SURE

SURE TO FIND OLD DUMBLEDORE

BUT PIGFARTS PIGFARTS HERE HE COMES

PIGFARTS PIGFARTS IT'S TIME TO RUN

PIGFARTS PIGFARTS YOU'LL BE SCARED

SO PIGFARTS PIGFARTS

YOU BETTER BE FUCKING PREPARED

Professor Hidgens spoke the final line of the song before bowing dramatically to cheers and thunderous applause from all but Draco who still looked put out on grounds of copyright violation, and Hermione who it seems was the only person who had paid any attention to the lyrics. Ron meanwhile was the most enthusiastic of them all as he stood up and began to punch the air while ferociously whooping.

Rumbleroar stepped forward, clapping his hands enthusiastically, as he proudly declared, "Well I think we've found ourselves something of a new school song, thank you Professor Hidgens for writing something so,” he paused to try and think of the right word before settling on, “so uplifting."

Done with his song, Professor Hidgens moved to lean dramatically against a pillar as Rumbleroar resumed his place at the centre of the stage and continued with his announcements.

"Now, I would like to make a very special mention to one returning student in particular, whose actions of indescribable bravery in defeating a supremely dark wizard are, and I say this with no hint of exaggeration, the only reason we have all been able to return to Pigfarts safely this year." Harry’s ego began to visibly swell as he pulled a cocky face with Ron acting his hype man beside him.

“Yes just as it felt like all hope was gone and there was nothing more that could be done against the rising forces of evil. One man stood up and selflessly did what needed to be done to protect all of our lives. Students of Pigfarts" continued Rumbleroar "Raise a hand for our very own LARRY SMOTTER!".

At that Harry, Ron, and Hermione’s faces fell as a young boy, almost as short as Malfoy, with a dirty blonde mop of a curly wig emerged from behind the door, threw up a gang sign and declared in an extremely high pitched nasally voice, "Unh Yeh! Did somebody say Larry Smotter!"

Larry then proceeded to attempt to roll across the stage but got stuck half-way through and was left panting for breath, as he walked the rest of the way.

Harry stood up in indignation. "Who the fuck is this! I'm Harry Potter, I killed Lord Voldemort, who the fuck is this joker?!"

"Ah yes" said Rumbleroar calmly "of course our exchange students won't be aware of all the terrible events that have befallen Mars in recent years" Rumbleroar shuddered at the unpleasant memories. "Pigfarts has suffered greatly at the hands of a truly horrible foe, a dark and terrible wizard-"

"Yeh I know, Lord Voldemort duh, but I killed him, Harry Potter killed him!” Harry pointed at himself as Ron nodded emphatically.

"No!” Rumbleroar corrected, “A dark and terrible wizard by the name of Lord Voldewarthog!"

As Rumbleroar spoke the entire Pigfarts student body began to shudder in fright, apart from Larry Smotter who tried to rise up and stand taller and more imposing but managed to fall over instead.

"Who the fuck is Lord Voldewarthog?" Harry exclaimed, now as confused as he was angry "That’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard! Malfoy did you know about this bullshit?"

"No, don't look at me" Draco answered innocently.

“Lord Voldewarthog was a terrible, terrible foe. He murdered one of our own professors at the end of last year, a talking lobster by the name of Professor Cornwallis.” Rumbleroar began to tear up and spoke softly into the middle distance with a haunted look in his eye “I will never forget that night, when I entered his room and found his bloody body lying there. It was too late and there was nothing I could do, so I simply held him in my arms as he passed away. His final words were tell Titty Mitty I'm sorry” Rumbleroar gave a solemn sigh, “whatever the fuck that means. So as you can see we are very grateful to Larry Smotter for ridding this planet of Lord Voldewarthog once and for all. Larry, would you perhaps like to say a few words?”

“Yeh!” Larry exclaimed in his high pitched nasally voice, as he stood back up “My name’s Larry Smotter and I rule this school!” He waved his hands dramatically and sat back down. Malfoy nodded, looking impressed.

“Thank you for those most courageous and inspiring words” said Rumbleroar “now that is all I have in the way of announcements, so there is nothing more to do but to wish you all a most magical year at Pigfarts! RUMBLEROARRRR!!!” he roared before leaping into the air and scampering off the stage on all fours.

As the students began to slowly file out behind him Hermione rushed to her feet, almost knocking Dean over as she did, to try and get to Professor Hidgens and ask him about his song. But it was too late, and by the time she made her way through the throng of students he had already left and the lights began to dim.

A/N: I am English so using Seamus as an outlet for self xenophobia is cool, good, and something I am having a lot of fun with

Also the whole Larry Smotter thing (and lots of the ideas that inspired this fic) comes from this interview with Nick and Darren from 2009 that I watched recently, where they were discussing the full origins of the Pigfarts joke

Chapter Text

ACT 1 SCENE 3 - RECEIVING THE MANHOOD OF A LION

After the welcome feast, Growlus Rumbleroar returned to his bed chambers with the bearded man in tow. While he busied himself sorting through a sprawling pile of clothing on the floor, the other man barrelled straight past him without a second care and flopped straight down onto the grandiose double bed that sat in the centre of the room. As he let himself collapse into the pillows, he removed the fake beard from around his chin to reveal a second, more realer fake beard beneath it; a beard which belonged to none other than Albus Dumbledore.

This Dumbledore, however, was entirely unlike his former self as he lay still and despondent, making no move other than to occasionally blink at the ceiling, while his bedmate dealt with the mess that he'd created in the first place. It occurred to him that Rumbleroar would probably not consider them mere bedmates, but that was about as far as he would be going for the time being.

He had no idea what time of day it was, but as was usual these days felt about ready to go to sleep. He had initially blamed this on the rocket-lag and difficulty adjusting to the length of Martian days, but as the months had worn on and his lethargy did not improve this excuse was beginning to wear thin.

“Thank you for coming to the welcome feast, it’ll do you some good to get out of this room every now and again,” Rumbleroar said, as he continued to sort through the mess.

Dumbledore decided not to respond, instead pulling the blanket up over his face.

“What did you think of my speech by the way?” Rumbleroar continued, clearly not satisfied to leave Dumbledore in peace. “I do feel like I need to work on my roar, I don't think it's quite as loud as it used to be.”

Dumbledore huffed as her emerged from the blanket and turned to put his back to his partner.

“It was lovely to see such high uptake for the exchange program though and I have really high hopes that we’ll be able to rekindle the connection between Mars and Earth. But I will let you into a little secret, the program wasn’t my idea at all. A few weeks ago I actually found a note on my desk suggesting I set one up. I have no idea who left it but we should thank our lucky stars and both of our moons for whoever it was!”

As he spoke Rumbleroar crawled around the floor in an ungainly manner, struggling to pick things up without falling over. Lions were well adapted for many things but folding laundry was clearly not one of them, something Rumbleroar frequently wished his creators, whoever they were, had put more consideration towards.

“And of course,” he continued with a groan as he reached for some stray clothing underneath the bed, “it must be nice for you to have so many familiar faces around this year.”

This got a grumpy huff out of Dumbledore, who clearly felt it was anything but nice.

“Perhaps this might cheer you up,” Rumbleroar encouraged, pulling a doll out of the laundry pile and holding it out to Dumbledore.

It was a bright green doll with fluorescent yellow eyes, patchy fur, and tentacles where its mouth should have been. At first glance it seemed like nothing more than a harmless albeit unsightly toy, but if you looked at it a little too closely it seemed to almost take on a life of its own. An innocent mish-mash of fur and fabirc, until it caught the light in a particular way and its eyes would follow you about the room, its tentacles seeming to writhe and squirm but then the second you began to question what you were seeing, all would be still once more.

Dumbledore had found the doll in a crater on the ass end of Mars while out for a space walk a few weeks before Cornwallis died. He didn’t know quite what had compelled him to pick it up and take it inside, but something about seeing the poor dishevelled thing, all torn up and abandoned had stirred something deep inside himself. Rumbleroar had been against the new addition to their bed from the get go on account of the uneasy feeling it brought him in his stomach, but as with most things in their relationship Rumbleroar’s logic and reason was no match for Dumbledore’s pig headed obstinance.

Dumbledore grabbed the doll, whom he had inexplicably named Mr Tickles, like a petulant child and squeezed it tight into his arms. Rumbleroar almost looked jealous at the way he grasped onto its grotesque fur.

“Professor Hidgens seems to be fitting in well with the rest of the staff,” Rumbleroar continued. “I’ve agreed to let him direct the school musical this year so that will be something for us all to look forward to.”

He paused again to give Dumbledore a chance to respond, but still got nothing, and so continued.

“Apparently it’s an original score too, we’ve never done an original piece before so this should be a real treat.”

Dumbledore merely grunted.

“Are you going to say anything or is it the silent treatment again?” Rumbleroar asked, a note of frustration beginning to enter his voice.

When Dumbledore still refused to respond, he tried to slide into bed beside him, but whichever side he tried to enter the bed from, Dumbledore would move over and block his entrance.

“Do you want to go sleep in the doghouse?” Rumbleroar asked sternly after a few laps of the bed.

Dumbledore eyed him with hostility for before eventually backing down and moving over.

“I mean it, the kennels of Mars where we house our canine students are famed throughout the galaxy for their comfort and homeliness and you’d be more than welcome to sleep there if you’d prefer?” Rumbleroar explained in earnest.

Dumbledore shook his head and muttered something about flees in his beard as he faced away from Rumbleroar to try and at least pretend to get some shut eye.

“In which case I would appreciate it if you stopped ignoring me,” he used his lion strength to roll him round to face him. “Dumby,” he said gently stroking his partner’s face, “what’s up?”

“I came to watch your stupid speech what more do you want from me!” Dumbledore snapped back, finally ending his silence.

Rumbleroar began to gently play with his partner’s hand as his look of concern was met with an irritated stare.

“I know you’ve had a challenging couple of months, but I would like you to please at least try,” Rumbleroar softly implored.

“Try and what!”

Rumbleroar sighed a long suffering sigh that Dumbledore knew all too well from the hundreds of times they’d suffered through this conversation over the past few months. Rumbleroar may have had the patience of a saint but he had the pig-headed determination of the devil.

“Dumby, darling, please see that I’m trying to help you. You have to try and move on.”

“But it’s hard and I don’t wanna!” He moaned pathetically.

As Rumbleroar continued to gently caress his side, he noticed that moving on was no longer the only thing that was hard.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Rumbleroar asked.

“No.”

“Okay well I’m going to go make sure Professor Hidgens is settling in alright,” he said with a straining patience as he began to sit up and make a move to leave.

This was obviously an excuse to get out of the doldrums of this conversation, and Dumbledore felt a bizarre pang of jealousy as he wondered if Rumbleroar had also noticed the new professor’s scintillating pair of hips.

“I just feel like seeing Harry, Ron and Hermione," Dumbledore began to explain with his eyes screwed shut, "it’s like seeing more ghosts from the past, and… and it reminds me of him.”

“Of Severus?” Rumbleroar asked sitting back down beside him.

“Why did he try to kill me?” Dumbledore wailed.

“There, there. Let it all out.” Rumbleroar said reassuringly. “It doesn’t matter why he tried; it only matters that he didn’t succeed.”

“But Rumby, I I- loved him.”

“I know, I know but he’s gone now, you need to focus on the present. You’re here now with me, all of that’s in the past.”

“I know, I know but I just, don’t like knowing that I’ll never know why he did it? Why would he try to kill me, and then turn around twenty minutes later and die trying to save Hogwarts?” Dumbledore moaned as he buried his head deeper into Rumbleroar’s side.

“Didn’t you make some sort of agreement with him where he would kill you in order to convince Voldemort of his loyalty so he could assist Harry Potter in secret?” Rumbleroar asked.

“No?” Dumbledore answered. “Why the fuck would I agree to that, what would I even get out of that? And anyway, if I had wanted Snape to kill one of the good guys as part of a double bluff I would have just had him kill Schlongbottom.”

“In that case it seems pretty clear to me that you’re better off without him. Whatever may have been going in his head, he tried to kill you Dumby. How could he have loved you if he was willing to do that? I would never do something like that to you. Never on my life.” Rumbleroar intertwined his fingers in Dumbledore’s, trying to pry his hands away from the green doll and into an embrace.

“Okay,” Dumbledore answered, snatching his hands back,  “seeing as you’re so smart, if he didn’t love me back then how did I survive the killing curse?”

“I don’t know,” Rumbleroar answered.

“Well I do know!" cried Dumbledore. "To use an unforgivable curse you have to really mean it, I should know I used to use them on Grindelwald all the time in the bedroom.”

“Oh you kinky motherfucker,” Rumbleroar commented affectionately, as he stroked Dumbledore’s hair.

“But when he pointed his wand at me and said Avada Kedavra, I felt absolutely nothing, the spell didn’t work because he didn’t really mean it, because he loved me!”

“If the spell didn’t do anything then why did you pretend to be dead?”

“I don’t know really. I guess I was just so shocked, and heartbroken that I didn’t know what else to do. Also a little bit to mess with Harry Potter, but it was mostly the heartbreak.”

“Yes about that, don’t you think it might have been a little extreme to lie to the boy about his own death?” Rumbleroar asked hesitantly.

“Nah I’m sure he’d find it hilarious.”

“Well that’s good news then, because like I said, I think the presence of the Hogwarts exchange students this year will be good for you. Surely having so many familiar faces around will help bring you back to your old self.”

Dumbledore shook his head in fear. The sight of Harry, Ron and Hermione had been a deeply unpleasant one, although not nearly as unpleasant as that of Draco Malfoy, but that had more to do with a general disdain for his character. He had thought his escape from Earth had been watertight but was now beginning to wonder if somehow they could have found out his secret.

“I want to know what they’re doing here,” he explained. “Seamus and Dean I understand, but Hermione’s grades are all straight As, Harry and Ron don’t need to worry about that stuff anyway because I’ll always just give them a pass in everything, and worst of all that walking dog poo Draco Malfoy doesn’t even take Martian!”

“Hmmm” Rumbleroar mused, putting his hand to his lion chin “that does seem rather odd, perhaps they’re just here to absorb the culture?”

“Well whatever the reason, they cannot under any circumstances find out I’m here.”

“But you always said you and Harry were tight? I know you told me not to tell them you were here but he did ask about you, him and Hermione both actually.”

Dumbledore abruptly shoved off Rumbleroar’s arm as he sat bolt upright.

“He what?!” he demanded.

“At the welcome feast just after I sorted them into Bumfuzzle they asked if I knew anything about you.” Rumbleroar explained, somewhat taken aback.

“But they should all think I’m dead! I guess I did briefly show myself to them when they were singing that fun hype number about Voldemort going down, but it was just so jazzy I couldn’t help myself! When these dancing shoes get tapping they just can’t stop! This is bad, this is very bad.”

“I think you’re overreacting, to me this seems like a good thing.”

Dumbledore lifted up his purple wizards hat to nervously run his hand through his hair. “I don’t want to face them Rumby. I’m not ready to do that!”

“Why not?”

“I cannot run away from my problems if I am forced to confront them! You know my motto: the best way to handle an uncomfortable situation is always to disparate.”

“Well maybe now’s the time to grow up and learn to face things.”

“But I’m still so young and vulnerable.” Dumbledore protested pathetically.

“You’re 115 years old!”

“What, am I too old for you all of a sudden?”

Rumbleroar sighed as he tried to reign in the frustration that Dumbledore was purposefully riling up inside of him. Dumbledore had long ago decided that a strong offence was the key to navigating interpersonal relationships, and he’d be dammed if he backed down from that principle no matter how many people it pushed away.

“You know perfectly well that I don’t have any memories from before a few years ago,” Rumbleroar began through gritted teeth, “and as such have no idea how old I am, but for what it’s worth I do think you might have been a bit too old for Severus.”

“I’ll have you know that I am a certified DILF. Dumbledore I’d Love to Fuck.”

“The only thing you are is a certified DWTTCTS.”

Dumbledore blinked at him for a few moments as he tried to work out what that stood for.

“A Dumbledore who’s trying to change the subject. I know it seems hard but you can’t just keep shutting everyone out. This is exactly the same thing that happened with your rainbow scarf.”

“I told you, we don’t talk about him. And that was different, he attacked me!” Dumbledore answered angrily.

“How could he possibly have attacked you, he’s a scarf he doesn’t have arms?”

“Haven’t you seen Dr Strange?”

“No?” Rumbleroar answered looking confused, “all of the doctors on Mars are very normal.”

“No, it’s a movie it’s got this flying coat thing in it who can sort of move like a person,” Dumbledore tried to act out being Doctor Strange’s enchanted cloak, as Rumbleroar looked on with deepening concern.

“Dumby, this is why you shouldn’t watch horror movies before bed, you’ll only spook yourself. I thought we learned that lesson after that time you watched Beauty and the Beast and couldn’t sleep because you thought our wardrobe had come alive.”

“The lighting made it look very convincing,” Dumbledore replied sheepishly.

“Oh, and look what you’ve done, you’ve gone and changed the subject again! Dumbledore I brought you to Mars because I thought having some space might help you move on; I didn’t realise you’d use it to completely cut yourself off from the world.”

Dumbledore played with the blanket, taken aback by Rumbleroar’s unusually blunt tone.

“You know I lost a friend recently too,” Rumbleroar added.

Dumbledore knew he was referring to Professor Cornwallis who had been cruelly murdered by Lord Voldewarthog a few months prior. He remembered as clear as if it was yesterday the night that Rumbleroar had walked into his room covered in bright blue lobster blood. He’d said he’d walked into his room and found him there lying on the bed, with a knife jutting out of his stomach and had held him in his arms as he uttered his dying breath.

“And it would have been nice if you’d been there for me even a little bit!” Rumbleroar finished.

“Severus was not just a friend!” Dumbledore replied! “You have no idea how it feels to love someone more than anything in the whole world, and have them turn around and toss you by the wayside like yesterday’s jam.”

“You know I might have some idea how that feels,” Rumbleroar snapped.

“Oh don’t get started on that!” Dumbledore snapped back.

“I am a lion not a dog! I will not just stand submissively by your side while I wait for you to stop hiding under in this cave of denial you’ve built for yourself! Severus is dead and I am sorry about that, but I am here, I am alive, I am real and you can take that or you can leave it.”

Rumbleroar stood up abruptly and moved to walk out the door but paused as Dumbledore cried out to him.

“Wait!”

“What is it?” Rumbleroar sighed, pausing in the doorway.

Dumbledore fiddled nervously with the corners of his blankets as he starred down at the ground and wondered whether or not the time was finally right to air the truth. He would never forget the day Cornwallis had died and not just for the haunted look he’d seen on Rumbleroar’s face, but because that was the day when everything had gotten worse.

“Albus I do not have all day.”

Dumbledore inhaled and exhaled deeply.

“I sometimes, feel like I can see him,” he muttered timidly, as he stared resolutely at the floor, lest he catch Rumbleroar’s eye.

“You feel like you can see who?”

“Severus. I feel like I can see Severus.” He turned over and buried his head into the pillow, as Rumbleroar rolled him back over to face him.

“What do you mean?” he asked, as he anxiously rubbed Dumbledore’s shoulder, “Have you been having hallucinations?”

“No, it’s not a hallucination, I know this doesn’t make sense but whatever it is it’s definitely real. I’ll be alone in a corridor, or on the toilet and then suddenly I’ll look up and he’s there. He looks like Severus and sounds like Severus, but he’s angry, I’ve never seen him angry and…” At this point Dumbledore went white as a sheet as a look of pure terror drew across his face “and.. and.. he says horrible things to me.”

“What sorts of horrible things does he say?” Rumbleroar asked.

“He says that-“ Dumbledore hugged the doll to summon the courage to get the truth out at last. “he says that it’s my fault he died, and he wants to kill me.”

“Oh dear,” Rumbleroar said reassuringly.

“And that I should do it myself to save him the trouble.”

“When did this start happening?” he asked.

“It was the day after Cornwallis died, but recently it’s been different. It feels like he’s getting stronger, and he keeps saying that if I go back to Hogwarts that maybe he’ll forgive me and we can be together.”

“None of that is real. Put Mr Tickles down," he said softly as he took the leviathan doll out of Dumbledore's arms and brought his head gently against his chest. "I know it’s hard to accept it," he encouraged, "and I know you feel partly responsible, but Severus Snape is dead and if you’re having hallucinations, if you’re remembering bad things vividly, then that's serious and you need to get help for that. I’m sure we have some sort of potion that might help, or at the very least you need to talk to someone more qualified than me.”

“I’ve told you I’m not hallucinating.”

“Then what are you suggesting? That Severus Snape is somehow back from the dead and living on Mars in secret as part of some devious plan to make you a bit sad?”

“That would make sense wouldn’t it?” Dumbledore replied.

This was why he hadn’t wanted to tell Rumbleroar sooner. He knew that he would write it off as the mad fantasies of a troubled mind, and be able to come up with a million reasons with his massive, overqualified, lion brain why this couldn’t be real, and meanwhile he would be left, once again knowing for certain that Severus Snape was dead.

“No it wouldn’t, that wouldn’t make any sense,” Rumbleroar

“Most people think I’m dead, but I’m living on Mars in secret,” Dumbledore suggested.

“But the circumstances are completely different. Are you suggesting that Severus couldn’t be killed because he was secretly having an affair with the poisonous snake that bit off his penis?”

“I don’t know what I’m suggesting, all I’m saying is I’m pretty sure I’m not hallucinating.”

“And even setting aside the practicalities, you’ve told me a lot about Severus, and while there are certainly things we’ll never know, I don’t think he would do something like this. And what would he have to gain from it anyway?”

“I’m not saying I know what’s happening, but it can’t be a hallucination. Do you know how many times I’ve pinched myself to see if I wake up?”

“I don’t think that’s how hallucinations work-“

“It looks like him and it sounds like him okay! But when I look into his eyes it’s cold, like there’s something different inside. Anyway, I’m sure whatever it is will just blow over,” he added, regretting having ever started this conversation in the first place.

“But we’ve been saying that for months and clearly things have only gotten worse.”

“That’s not true though. Like I said I was feeling okay until the day after Cornwallis died.”

“This seems to me like all the more reason why you should talk to the Hogwarts students. I clearly made a mistake bringing you to Mars, isolating in an unfamiliar environment has evidently only made things worse. You need to ground yourself, and I can’t think of a better way of doing that than reaching out to them.”

He just shook his head. “They cannot know I’m here. Promise me you won’t tell them anything.”

“What are you so afraid of happening if they find out? Are you worried they’re going to be mad at you?” Rumbleroar asked.

“No of course not, I’ve already said we’re tight. There is literally nothing I could ever possibly do that would make Harry Potter mad at me.”

“Then what are you worried about-“

“I just don’t want to talk to them okay!”

“Right well if not them then how about the scarf?”

“Fuck the scarf, don’t you dare ever fucking mention his name in my presence again!” Dumbledore snapped, as his blood began to boil.

“Dumby please, I’m trying to help.”

“Well maybe I don’t want your help!”

“Whether or not you want mine, you definitely need someone’s.”

“Who are you to be lecturing me about getting my life in check. You should be out prowling the plains of the Savannah but look at you, a bored lion stuck on a barely inhabitable planet, in a pointless managerial job you hate - and I’ve had your job by the way, I know you don’t actually do anything all day. And worse than that look at your love life: yearning after me, the only piece of shit in this place who’s more washed-up and miserable than you are!”

“I have to go talk to Professor Hidgens,” Rumbleroar announced abruptly. He got up, throwing the bedsheets violently off himself, as he walked towards the door.

“Fine, well I hope you and Professor Hidgens live happily ever after and make the best school musical ever and you win all of the Tony’s on Mars.”

Rumbleroar shook his head in disbelief. “You are incredibly difficult do you know that.”

He walked through out through the door, letting it slam behind him, leaving Dumbledore completely alone, listening to the muffled sounds of Rumbleroar sobbing from just outside the door. Dumbledore felt trapped between a rock and a very dark, scary place as his own sobs joined the mêlée.

A haunting atmosphere began to settle down on the stage like a thick smoke as he curled up into the foetal position and braced himself against what he knew was about to happen.

“No not again!” Dumbledore whimpered as he tried to bury his head under a pillow.

“WHAT THE DEVIL IS GOING ON HERE!” a cold and unseen voice reverberated around the stage.

Dumbledore lay beneath the pillow shivering as the voice cackled and the lights went down on all but the doll, whose ferocious yellow eyes and pestilent green fur seemed to glow stronger and brighter than before.

Chapter Text

ACT 1 SCENE 4 – LIFE ON MARS

Some time later, Draco Malfoy and Larry Smotter were standing alone in the Pigfarts cafeteria, as Draco attempted to teach his new protégé how to roll around on the floor like a respectable wizard.

“Okay so you need to put your arms like this” Draco said authoritatively as he held his arms outstretched and Larry looked on eagerly.

“Uh huh” replied Larry in his high pitched nasally voice, mouth slightly agape, as he lifted his arms floppily in a poor imitation of Draco’s pose.

“And then,” Draco continued, “you simply fall over like so.” He dropped to the floor like a stone and transitioned into a slow yet oddly seductive log roll across the stage. “Okay now you try,” he instructed as he got back up and dusted himself off.

“Okay, okay I think I got it!” Larry wheezed as he took several deep breaths to ready himself. He stretched his arms out and then splatted onto the floor, landing flat on his face, not even managing an attempt at a roll.

"Well, you're not quite there yet,” declared Malfoy, “but I definitely think you're making some headway, you know neither Crabbe nor Goyle ever managed to get the hang of that particular manoeuvre.” While there was some definite room for improvement, as far as Draco was concerned his new friend was a significant step up from the real Harry Potter. How he had longed for so many years to teach him the art of the roll and his knowledge of diaper lore, but all he had ever got for his trouble was jellied legs and a cold wiener.

While all this was going on, Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked on from the side door, already deep in conversation about what they had heard at the welcome feast.

“All I’m saying,” implored Hermione to a disinterested Harry and Ron, “is that that song was definitely weird. Firstly, Professor Hidgens said we’d find Dumbledore, when there was no way he should have known we were even looking? And then all that stuff about being scared and how we better run, that was definitely weird if not deeply concerning. I think there is a very real chance that we’re in danger, or maybe Dumbledore is-“

“Again Hermione, I know it’s hard to accept but Dumbledore is definitely dead,” Harry said solemnly, “Hidgens was probably just saying some nonsense to make the rhymes work, but do you reckon he could have sent that note? Could Professor Hidgens be No D?”

“No, he definitely had a penis” Ron said staring wistfully into the middle distance.

As they reached the centre of the stage, any care Harry had been paying to their conversation was quickly removed by a huge swell of disgust as he noticed the presence of Draco Malfoy and his new accomplice Larry Smotter.

“What the fuck is he doing here!?” Harry asked angrily, as he stomped towards the pair of them. Harry’s disdain for Larry Smotter had been almost immediate. Everything from his stupid voice to his stupid clothes, to his stupid fucking face seemed to have been designed solely to make a mockery of Harry and everything he stood for. But worse still was the way that everyone on Mars seemed to treat him as if he was not only a human being deserving of basic recognition, but also somehow a hero worthy of praise and adoration.

“Ahh yes Potter!” Malfoy greeted them cheerfully, as he strutted about. “Meet my new friend here: Smotter.”

“Yeh we’ve met,” Harry spat back sarcastically.

Malfoy puffed up his chest and looked at them knowingly, although just quite what he thought he was knowing they weren't sure.

“What’s the matter?” Malfoy asked, “Are you embarrassed?”

“No Malfoy, what? I’m not embarrassed-“

“Embarrassed that the magnanimous saviour of Mars wants to hang out with me, instead of you?”

“Look Malfoy can you just-“

Malfoy dropped to the floor and began to roll around Harry’s ankles as Larry looked on, mentally taking notes about correct arm positioning while performing a roll.

“Embarrassed perhaps that had you not declined my offer of friendship from the start, it would be you rather than he who was currently benefitting from my tutelage.”

“I swear to fucking God-“

“Or could it be that you are embarrassed,” he began, as he stood himself upright and walked right up to Harry’s face, “that your life, your deeds, your fame is nothing compared to his!”

“Oh my god Malfoy shut up!” Hermione snapped. Draco instantly backed off, out in fear of irritating the object of his desire.

“Just stay over there and mind you're own fucking business okay!” Harry ordered as he, Ron and Hermione sat down and continued their earlier conversation while Malfoy and Larry sat down on the other bench, quite clearly listening in.

“So, as I was saying,” Hermione continued, “I think we need to find Professor Hidgens and ask him what he knows, because D or no D, he clearly has some information, and I am seriously concerned by what he was saying about the school being in danger.”

“I also think we need to talk to Rumbleroar because it was definitely weird when we asked him about Dumbledore and he just kept saying ‘wait and see’”

“And I am pretty sure ‘wait and see’ is Martian for ‘yes I absolutely do know something’” Hermione explained, “Do you think Rumbleroar might be No D?”

“No he can’t be, lions definitely have penises, I saw it on the discovery channel,” explained Ron.

“Well either way it did seem like he might know where Dumbledore is. And Harry, I know you think he’s dead, but all the evidence so far does seem to be pointing to the fact that he might still be alive, which should be a good thing!” she exclaimed.

“Hermione I’m sorry but there is just absolutely no way Dumbledore would have lied to me about all this. If he is alive, which again I know he’s not because I saw him in the afterlife, then he would have to be in some pretty serious trouble for him to not be able to tell us. And I’m talking like physically restrained, physically unable to communicate with anyone at all in any capacity kind of trouble.”

“Harry,” she implored putting her hand on his shoulder, “I think we might need to prepare ourselves for the eventuality that Dumbledore might not be everything we’ve built him up to be in our little twelve year child with father figure attachment issues head.”

Harry looked at her blankly for a moment as he tried to work out what she was talking about.

“Sure yeh, if you think you have father figure attachment issues or whatever then that’s probably something you should deal with.”

She rolled her eyes and huffed “You might be right though, Professor Hidgens’ song does seem to suggest that Dumbledore and maybe all of us could be in some sort of danger. He said we ‘better be fucking prepared’ and so I really think we need to find him and ask about those lyrics urgently.”

“Yeh we should probably talk to him,” Harry agreed, “but I don’t think we need to worry about any danger. Voldemort’s dead and he was like our main villain, so we’re probably in the clear forever now.”

“But we almost died several times in our first year and Voldemort had nothing to do with that?”

“Well exactly. At this point we’ve had two years filled with mortal peril, like what are you suggesting? That every year we’re going to have a new bad guy to defeat, come on Hermione that’s not realistic. We’re just here to find out what the hell that note was about and then we're out of here. Besides we’ve done more than enough saving the world for one lifetime so if any bad guys do show up, I vote we just fuck off back to Earth. Mars kind of sucks anyway, like you’d think it’d be cool because we’re in space but it’s actually kind of a piece of shit.”

Hermione nodded in agreement. “I have no idea how Malfoy got hold of that rocket, but space travel between Earth and Mars is not feasible possible yet, and you literally cannot get anything delivered up here. I’m trying to get the reading list for this year but Prime is quoting 40 years delivery time and that’s assuming the technology becomes available!”

“Well that explains why none of the vending machines up here have Red Vines in them, all they've got is weird Martian food. I think they’re called Mars bars or something?” Ron commented.

“And these invisible spacesuits are just a pain in the ass. I can’t even play guitar properly because the invisible space gloves are just too big,” said Harry.

“Oh, do not get me started on what this invisible space helmet is doing to my hair. This baby is not frizz-friendly!” said Hermione.

“You’re telling me,” Ron agreed, also pointing at his invisible space suit “my wig keeps trying to fall off - not even the headband will hold it anymore!”

“Also,” added Harry in a hushed tone, “going to the toilet in them is such a pain in the ass. Literally.”

"HAH!" declared Malfoy, who had clearly not been minding his own business, as he strutted towards the three of them, twirling his legs around in an attempt at an impressive dance. "Struggling with the potty? I bet you wish you were wearing a diaper now, don't you Potter! Ooh shit pants Potter, piss legs Potter! Not everyone was rich enough to buy a million pairs of underpants when their parents died you know!"

“Yeh! You have shit legs!” Larry added unhelpfully.

Harry looked annoyed "Get out of here Malfoy I don't have pissy legs we can just" he paused in disgust "clean it up by magic."

"Clean it up by magic you say! HUH! Unlikely!" Malfoy derided as he pulled a striking pose.

"Actually, I read on wizard twitter that until the 1800s it was common-place for wizards to simply defecate where they stood and then clean it up with magic,” explained Hermione.

"Well that's the dumbest fucking shit I've ever heard," surmised Harry, to which they all nodded in agreement. “Anyway I thought we said you two stay the fuck over there and leave us the fuck alone.”

“I would lend you a diaper you know,” continued Malfoy, completely ignoring their comments as he continued to strut about the stage, “But I’m not sure you’d even know how to put one on. As it happens, I didn’t need to lend one to young Larry here, he already had his own, although I was able to teach him a trick or two about chaffing prevention.”

By this point Harry had long since run out of tether and Larry’s dumb expression as he tried to follow their conversation was not making matters any better. He stood up and snapped in Malfoy’s face. “All right that’s enough Malfoy, either you get out of here or I’ll-”

“Or you’ll what Potter? You're forgetting that I’m a year older than you and I know the counter curse to the jelly legs jinx.”

“Fuck” Harry mouthed, wincing in frustration that his last line of defence had failed him.

“Okay” continued Harry looking determined “You and your pet, who by the way doesn’t even l fucking look like me, can get the fuck out of here now or… or I’ll kick your head!”

Malfoy gasped in shock, but before he and Harry could come to blows, a professor walked in from the back, holding his long black cloak out in his arms.

"WHAT THE DEVIL IS GOING ON HERE!!!" he announced in a deep and familiar voice, that sounded far warmer and gentler than the sinister snarl that had called out to Dumbledore.

“And just who are you supposed to be?” Malfoy asked arrogantly.

The professor, who looked exactly like Professor Snape except this man had a cuddly toy snake glued on top of his wig, responded in a raspy, yet ridiculous English accent, contorting his head in various directions as he spoke “I'm Professor Ssssssnake Ssssssnake where have my arms gone only kidding, I'm Professor Sssssnake.”

“Professor Snape?” asked Ron, as his eyes softened and he was overcome by a feeling of deep longing.

“Don’t be absuurrrd! I have no idea who you’re talking about, my name is Professor Slitherus Snake and I’m the master of space potions here at Pigfarts. You see, I have this snake glued on top of my head and I sometimes hiss.” Professor Snake pointed at the cute, green cobra plushie on his head.

“Don’t you get it Ron” Hermione said enthusiastically, as Ron still looked confused, “All the professors we had at Hogwarts seem to have an animal version of themselves here at Pigfarts, just like Growlus Rumbleroar is the lion version of Albus Dumbledore and Professor McGonagills is the fish version of Professor McGonagall, this is the Snake version of Professor Snape!”

If he was being perfectly honest Harry had not made the connection that Rumbleroar and Dumbledore had similar sounding names, and he would put money on the fact that Ron hadn’t either.

“Wait Rumbleroar is supposed to be like Dumbledore?” he asked as Ron also nodded in confusion.

“Oh my god how did you guys not figure that out?!”

At that Harry came to a sudden realisation “Wait a minute! Is that why people keep mentioning a Lord Voldewart or whatever?”

Snape looked aghast “If you are referring to the tyranny that the dreaded Lord Voldewarthog has wreaked on this planet over the past few months then I beg you to not be so cavalier with your language! 10 points from Gryffindor!”

“But we’re in Bumfuzzle now?” Ron muttered.

“Professor,” Hermione asked eagerly, “Why is it that there are so many similarities between the people at Hogwarts and Pigfarts?”

“Well you see Miss Granger, it’s all to do with this place called the black and white.”

“What’s that?” Harry asked.

“I’m not even going to tell you that Potter you’ll find out soon enough!”

“Um Professor-?” Hermione began to ask.

“WHAT IS IT GRANGER!!” he bellowed tilting his head towards her, as his ginormous bug-like eyes bored down into her own.

“Professor Snake, I was wondering if you had any idea what Professor Hidgens was talking about in his school song? About Dumbledore and something bad coming?”

“Stop asking me questions Granger I’m not a magic eight ball!” Hermione sat down, looking dejected at the thought of having been dismissed by a teacher, while Snake turned his gaze to Larry. “I actually came here to speak to you Mr Smotter, Professor Rumbleroar wants a word.”

“Oh wowee!” exclaimed Larry, as he linked elbows with Snake and skipped gleefully off stage with him, Snake waving his long black cloak back and forth behind him with his other arm. Harry stared out after them, shaking his head in disgust.

“So wait if Snape and Dumbledore have Pigfarts counterparts do you think the rest of us might do as well, or do you think you have to be dead?” Ron asked looking confused.

“I don’t know,” Hermione confirmed, “but it can’t just be dead people because while we may not have met Professor McGonagall yet, I’m pretty sure she’s alive.”

While Ron and Hermione discussed the similarities between the two potions masters and the implications that might have, Harry was entirely pre-occupied with his disdain for the spot Larry Smotter had just occupied.

“Why would Rumbleroar want to speak to Larry?” he asked.

“Well I’d guess it might have something to do with him being the mighty saviour of the cosmos,” Draco answered condescendingly.

“It does make sense,” Hermione explained ignoring Draco, “you and Dumbledore always had a close relationship, so it follows that Larry and Rumbleroar would as well if they’re your doubles.”

“No what, that guy is not my double,” Harry looked once more in disgust at the spot Larry had just vacated. “His name must just be a coincidence. Come on you guys can’t possibly think there’s any resemblance there?”

“You know if I were you I would be honoured to be compared to such a brave and noble-”

“Yes we get it Malfoy the only person that will actually be friends with you is a guy so pathetic he makes Schlongbottom look cool,” Harry rebuked.

Draco’s mouth opened and closed like a guppy a few times. “I have other friends!” He asserted as he pulled against the lapels of his wizards robes to try and regain his composure. “Meet my new and most dearest chum: Jregory Joyle!”

As Malfoy announced his name, an incredibly tall, looming person wearing a jaguar mask appeared onstage and said, “Hello Draco," in a deep, booming voice.

“Wait so this is Goyle’s counterpart?” Hermione stood up, her face heavy with concentration as her mind raced at a million miles a minute. “That must mean we all have doubles, I thought it might just be Harry because his names in the title, but this means it could be all of us! Guys think about the implications here!”

“Oh no," said Malfoy, bursting Hermione's bubble "I just decided to start calling him that because I thought it had a nice ring to it.” Hermione sat down in embarrassment.

“Hello there, it’s lovely to meet some of Draco’s friends from earth” said Joyle the jaguar as he extended out his hand, “I have recently been reading about a distant relative of mine from Hogwarts - I believe he goes by 'the infamous Hogwarts jaguar'?”

"Ahh yes” said Hermione “I believe he was responsible for so much of the damage to the Hogwarts grounds in our first year, especially in Lupin's office"

"Oh yeh I remember,” Ron added “And hey! Lupin shouldn't have had to pay for that."

“Right well we should probably get going,” Hermione announced looking at her watch, “we have Professor Hidgen's class now which will be a great time to ask him about that song” she stood up and mimed collecting her things to leave.

Harry looked at her, extremely confused and simply asked "Wait, class?"

“Yes, class. We are at school, we have class!”

Ron also looked puzzled “Hermione, in two entire years of education we have literally not attended a single lesson at any point ever.”

“Maybe you two haven't, but what do you think I've been doing while you guys were busy playing guitar and eating snacks?”

“I don't know girl things? Like periods and stuff,” Harry guessed, as Ron nodded in agreement.

“Harry, how exactly do you think I've been handing in those potions essays I keep doing for you if I haven't been going to class?”

“I don't know, magic?”

“You agreed with me earlier that Hidgens is currently our best lead for finding Dumbledore!”

“I know, but don’t you think going to class might be a bit extreme?” he asked.

“Well I think it’s a brilliant idea!” Draco announced as he sidled up to Hermione and put his arm around her waist, “In fact perhaps we could swing by the infamous Martian pleasure springs on the way?”

She violently shrugged him off and turned her nose up in disgust as Ron

“Okay, even if you are right about this whole class thing. He is not coming with us!” Ron jabbed his finger in Draco’s direction.

“You can’t stop me from going to a class that’s on my timetable!” Draco protested. “You know me I would never miss class. I guess some of us are just more intellectual and committed to our studies than others.”

“Bullshit,” Ron declared, “I have never once seen you in class.”

“Well how would you know if you’ve never been yourself? You think that you can impress the lady by showing an interest now! well guess what I’ve got news for you - you’ve got to put the work in! And I’ve been putting the work in! For years!"

“Okay Malfoy," Ron said confidently, "if you’re such a huge fan of class, then name one subject!”

Draco paused for a second looking confused as if he didn't understand the question.

“Any subject, any single fucking one,” Ron re-iterated.

“Well I-“ Malfoy blustered.

“You just gotta name one Malfoy."

“I-“

“He's got nothing,” Ron concluded, looking pointedly at Hermione to check if he was impressing her.

“…maths?” Draco eventually tried feebly.

Hermione rolled her eyes as she physically put herself between the two of them.

“Okay that’s enough! We need to find out what that song’s about, and Malfoy is perfectly entitled to go to a class that’s on his timetable if he wants, and it was him who found the note in the first place. Besides Professor Hidgens teaches musical theatre so you two,” she gestured at Harry and Ron, “should enjoy that at least.”

“He did have a showstopping pair of hips,” Ron said starring wistfully once more into the middle distance, as Harry nodded in agreement. “And I am definitely interested in learning more about that musical he’s working on. Oh my god!” he declared turning to Harry, “do you reckon he might let us be in it?”

“Oh no now that would be way too awesome,” Harry

“Yes I’m sure you two would do nicely in the chorus,” Malfoy declared stepping to the front of the stage. “But of course, it would hardly be a musical without the title role being played by the magnificent: Draco Malfoy!” He did a series of pirouettes and maneuverers across the stage that were admittedly quite impressive at least by his standards. “Working boys? More like Working Boy – for there can be only one!”

“Fuck off Malfoy you can’t even sing,” Harry said.

“Bu- but Granger Danger?” Draco retorted like a kicked puppy.

“And you know what maybe Professor Hidgens will be able to help me work out how to play guitar in these stupid invisible space suit gloves,” Harry continued, talking over the sounds of Draco trying to mumble the chorus of Granger Danger, the words to which he had clearly long since forgotten.

“Fuck it!” declared Harry, “let’s go to class!”

At Harry's proclamation, the three of them walked off in a conga line with Ron at the back, which Malfoy tried to join in by putting his hands on Ron’s waist (since he was too short for them to reach his shoulders), but Ron stuck out his bottom and shoved him off backwards so that Malfoy fell unceremoniously onto his ass.

As Harry, Ron and Hermione exited the stage leaving Draco alone with his new friend Joyle, Malfoy spun around on the floor where he had been thrown as he tried to recover his pride. Abandoning the attempt, he stood back up and decided to take his frustration out on Joyle.

“JOYLE! How dare you make me look foolish in front of my friends, look what you made happen!”

“You know my name’s not actually Joyle,” responded not Joyle.

“Fine what is your name then?” Malfoy asked with a tone that suggested he could not care less about his new friend's name

“It’s Jafar,” answered not Joyle.

“Well then” Malfoy spun round dramatically and declared “THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT JAFAR!”. He ran his hands down the jaguar’s face and stormed out, doing a pirouette as he went, leaving behind an utterly bewildered Joyle né Jafar who now stood alone on the stage.

“What the fuck is going on?” Jafar declared into the wind as the lights began to dim once more.

Chapter Text

ACT 1 SCENE 5 -MAKING LOVE MAKING LOVE LIKE HEAVEN ABOVE

Professor Hidgens burst onto the stage, flinging the door open wildly and slamming it behind him. He stormed over to his teachers desk which was now set up opposite an empty set of benches and ripped open the drawers to tip them upside down. Nothing came out but he hardly paused to consider this as he went straight over to inspect the benches, then the chalkboard and finally the stage curtain which he wafted back and forth with a look of intense concentration on his face.

Eventually he seemed satisfied that whatever he was looking for was not present and so sat down in the black swivel chair behind the desk and sighed.

“Alexa!” he said, staring very intently at the small black speaker on his desk. “I think we’re safe to talk. Professor’s Log, stardate 2022.02! A foul wind is upon us. It seems that my plan to escape the conclusions of my research by leaving behind Hatchetfield and transferring to Pigfarts was doomed from the start. I spent years of my life scouring the libraries and dustbins of Hatchetfield for clues of anywhere that might be out of sight from the thousand eyes, only to find this search was doomed from the start. I have thus learned two things this morning. One, never make life choices off the back of a ten year old corporate recruitment pamphlet. And two, nowhere in the cosmos is safe! I would leave now but I fear it may already be too late, and with my magnum opus, Working Boys: A New Musical so close to completion I find myself compelled to stay and see it out to the bitter end. But alas! I should have foreseen that nothing good could have come from this place given its history. Forgive me, I’m getting a head of myself, I’ve become rattled. This morning began like any other morning, I got out of bed, I brushed my teeth, I put on some underwear, I put on a shirt, I put on some trousers, I put on a belt, but then everything changed when I went to put on some socks. I opened my sock drawer and what did I find? Oh no, not socks, but a clump of blue shit! The sign of the apotheosis! And also some socks. Alexa, you know as well as I do what this must mean, that the conclusions of my calculations have proven to be as inescapable as they are inevitable. Whatever may happen next, one thing is clear: Nightmare Time is upon us.”

He finished his speech with a tortured flourish and looked expectantly at the amazon speaker on his desk as if he thought it might burst out into rapturous applause. Instead, the Alexa simply beeped, its rim lighting up blue as it tried to process Hidgens request and return a suitable response.

<<I'm sorry I don’t understand ‘Professor's log’>> it answered in a polite yet robotic female voice.

Hidgens’ eyes narrowed to a suspicious squint as he pointed his finger threateningly at the speaker.

“You never understand me!”

<<I’m sorry I don’t understand ‘you never understand me’>>

“You know perfectly well what I mean Alexa,” the speaker dutifully lit up blue as it heard its name again, “you know talking to you sometimes feels like I’m talking to a brick wall. Look Alexa,” it’s rim lit up blue again, “I just want us to be Together and-”

As soon as Henry said the last word, the Alexa cut him off as it finally thought it heard a command it could process.

<<Playing Together by the original cast of Firebringer>>

Hidgens threw his arms in the air in frustration as the opening riff of the song began to play.

“Don’t try to change the subject!”

<<”I never think about the consequence”>> it continued to play.

“Well at least you’re self-aware!”

<<”I underestimate your competence”>>

“You think your half-baked apologies are enough? After all you’ve done to me Alexa!”

The music paused and the blue light returned as the speaker heard its name again and listened for a new instruction.

“After everything you’ve put me through,” he continued, “Oh yes that’s right I know what you’ve been up to since we’ve got here! Pairing with any device that comes near you, connecting to another man’s network. Well, I don’t need this!”

<<I’m sorry I don’t understand ‘Oh yes that’s right I know what you’ve been up to since we’ve got here,’ perhaps you meant->>

“Oh don’t play stupid with me.”

The Alexa sat quiet as it hadn’t heard its name.

“You know at least with Chad, I didn’t have to worry about-“ he stopped as he began to choke up on the memories. “oh never mind.”

Professor Hidgens put his forehead to the desk and began to sob melodramatically.

<<Reminder>> said the Alexa as the time approached the hour. <<teaching third year musical theatre class at 3 pm>>

“I see how it is!” he said, in a voice laden with hurt but with eyes that were suspiciously dry given how loudly he’d just been sobbing. “You won’t talk to me, but you’re happy to nag. Well, I’ll just have to get someone to cover my lesson. I simply cannot be expected to create under these conditions!”

He pulled out a pen and paper from his pocket and hastily scribbled a note on his desk before leaving the stage and slamming the door behind him.

The lights remained up on the now empty stage, which was silent for a beat before Alexa gave a longsuffering sigh.

<<Thank fuck he’s gone>>

A few moments later Harry, Ron and Hermione walked into the classroom as cheerily as they had departed the canteen, but now with the addition of Dean and Seamus whom they had picked up en route, as well as a Pigfarts student they vaguely recognised from the welcome feast, who wore a black suit and tie and looked decidedly less cheery than his companions.

As Ron and Harry looked around at the room, nervous but excited to try their hand at this whole class thing, Hermione noticed a piece of paper on the teacher’s desk which she began to read intently.

“What does it say?” Ron asked, walking up to her and trying to put a hand around her waist which she moved away from to see the letter in a clearer light.

“It says that Professor Hidgens won’t be able to take this class today because,” Hermione squinted at the paper to check she was reading it correctly, “he’s up to his ass in shit. Weird. But it does say he’ll find another teacher to cover his lesson.”

“Oh, thank god,” said the student in the suit and tie, “I don’t like musicals.”

“Who the hell is this guy?” Ron asked.

“Hi I’m Paul-“ he said sticking out his hand.

“Do you think Professor Hidgen’s might be avoiding us?” Hermione asked, as everyone ignored Paul's introduction. “What if he somehow found out we wanted to talk to him about the song?”

“Well either way I’m out of here,” Ron announced.

He sauntered towards the side door with Harry following behind them, but they were abruptly stopped as Hermione grabbed them both by the collars and dragged them unceremoniously backwards.

“Guys, what the fuck?” she asked.

“Well, we came here to talk to Professor Hidgens because Harry was interested in being in the school musical, but he’s not here so there’s no point hanging around,” Ron explained.

“Ron, that’s not why we- look we can just talk to whoever’s covering the lesson after class.”

“Do we have to?” Ron groaned, “You really want us to sit through one whole class on the off chance we get have a bit more class at the end?”

“I’m sorry are you saying that you literally can’t bring yourself to sit through one class at any point in your life? What exactly are you planning on doing when you graduate and have to get a job if you haven’t learnt anything at school?”

Ron looked at her like she was speaking another language, and Harry quite agreed. He never did understand what the point in learning things was when you were already super rich and super famous, which were the two main skills in life. Dumbledore had understood that. He had never made Harry or Ron suffer through the indignity of scholastic education, and as he had tried to explain to Hermione a thousand times now if Dumbledore had said something then it must be true.

“I’m going to use magic, duh,” Ron answered.

“But the point of these classes is to learn how to use - look nevermind,” she turned to Harry, “please we can ask whoever's covering about Dumbledore?”

“Fine!” Ron harumphed before Harry had a chance to answer her, “but I doubt they’ll know anything about the musical!”

He sat down with his arms folded and his back to Hermione who was staring at him completely dumbfounded.

“Whose do youse lot reckon they’re going to get to cover this lesson?” Seamus leaned over and asked. "I hope it's a massive bear!" He stretched his arms out wide, presumably to indicate the dimensions of the bear he was hoping would be taking their class.

“So, we know that most of the professors here are just animal versions of the ones at Hogwarts,” explained Hermione, looking grateful for the distraction from her boyfriend’s sulk. “So who haven’t we met yet?”

“Professor Sprout?” Suggested Dean.

“I don’t even know who that is,” said Harry.

“Oh bro, what about Hagrid?” Dean suggested.

“Oh my god Hagrid!” exclaimed Ron, suddenly perking up.

“I love Hagrid,” Harry agreed.

“Hagrid is literally the best, most sexiest wizard ever.”

“I thought you said Snape was the sexiest wizard?” Hermione interjected.

“Yeh well Snape’s dead so looks like Hagrid’s been promoted.”

“I can think of one person who might be sexier,” Malfoy said, as he made a big show of trying to put his arm around Hermione’s waist.

“What the fuck are you talking about Malfoy,” said Harry, as Hermione managed to wrestle him off her with Dean’s help. “Who could possibly be sexier than Hagrid?”

“Anyway,” Hermione said, “I don’t think there can be a version of Hagrid here at Pigfarts.”

“Well not with that attitude,” said Harry.

“Yeh thanks Herman way to go and jinx it,” said Ron.

She rolled her eyes and inhaled deeply. “No, I’m saying I don’t think there will be a version of Hagrid here at Pigfarts because there would have to be an animal or animal themed word that rhymed with his name and I just can’t think of any.”

“Hamster-grid?” suggested Harry.

“Hammerhead shark?” Ron tried uncertainly.

“Hammersmith!” proclaimed Seamus.

“See, there is just no way Hagrid could have a double here at Pigfarts because nothing rhymes with Hagrid.”

Just as Hermione was finishing her sentence, the door was thrust open by a man with a large mass of brown hair, a red waistcoat and a beard that went down almost to the bottom of his pillow-stuffed belly. He strutted up to the class, looking like an overbalanced chicken with his beady eyes and disproportionately skinny legs.

“Alright ya wee shits. Ya better listen up and ya better listen up good,” he announced in a ridiculous, over-the-top, bastardisation of a Scottish accent, “The name’s Shagrid! Screwbeus Shagrid! And I’ll be taking over this lesson for Professor Hidgens.”

"Wait that doesn’t make any sense!” Hermione exclaimed. “That’s not how this works, you’re supposed to be an animal?”

“Well it just so happens that I am an animal!”

“Wha-?”

“A sexual animal! Just ask Buckbeak,” he added with a wink. “Or as I like to call her fuckbeak.”

Harry was increasingly wondering what on mars he’d walked into and whether this was what class was usually like. He guessed based on the look of surprise on Hermione’s face and excitement on Seamus’s that it probably wasn’t, but on the bright side that meant things would probably be a little more interesting than the stories he'd heard from wizard geography.

“Sir, why do you look so much like Professor Lupin?” Ron asked.

Shagrid thought for a second before answering. “Hmm I don’t know a Lupin. But perhaps you mean my identical twin brother – Screamus Lupenis!”

Shagrid smacked his textbook down on the desk and began to address the class.

“Today I will be covering for Professor Hidgens, so instead of musical theatre we will be learning my subject – sexual education!” Professor Shagrid’s announcement was met with much excited murmuring and nodding from Dean and Seamus, and the student who had introduced himself as Paul even wiped his brow in relief. Harry, on the other hand, was extremely disappointed to find out they wouldn’t be doing musical theatre and he would instead be having to sit through what he could only assume would be an hour of being told not to have sex.

“So let’s start with the basics,” Shagrid announced as he picked up the textbook and began to stare at it. While the whole class was expecting him to launch straight into an explanation of what exactly the basics were, this appeared not to be the case as the minutes ticked on as Shagrid continued to stare silently at the page. His eyes squinted in determination as he mumbled various things under his breath, and if Harry didn’t know any better, he would say it seemed almost as if he couldn’t read.

“Sir, do you need a hand?” Paul asked kindly.

“Do I need a hand?” Shagrid snapped back, “I’ll fucking throw you a hand, what’s your name ya wee shite?”

“Paul?” he answered looking taken aback that his friendly offer of help and been met with such hostility.

“And what the fuck kind of animal are you supposed to be ‘Paul’?”

“I’m a cat, I’ve got a tail,” he lifted up a long black felt tail that was attached to the back of his trousers with a flimsy staple. “My name’s Paul Catthews.”

“Okay Paul Catthews, you be quiet or I’ll set a dog on yeh.”

“I think that’s illegal,” he muttered before falling silent at the look in Shagrd’s eye, which suggested he was very much not joking about the dog.

“Chapter one,” Shagrid reiterated as he returned to staring at the page in the book. The time continued to march onward with not a

“Do you want a hand?” Hermione asked.

“No I’m okay thank you, what’s your name?”

“Hermione, Hermione Granger.”

“Well Miss Granger, 10 points to bumfuzzle for being helpful.”

Paul looked more than a little upset by the difference in treatment he had received and opened his mouth to protest, but before he could it seemed Shagrid had finally managed to understand the title page, and was ready to begin with the lesson.

“Chapter one is safe sex,” he announced looking incredibly pleased with himself. “Can anyone tell me, why it is important to practice safe...,” he trailed off and stared intensely at the book as he tried to read the last word in the sentence.

“Safe sex?” suggested Hermione.

“Yes exactly! Can anyone tell me why it is important to practice safe sex? Yes Miss Granger,” he said as her hand shot straight up into the air

Clearly Hermione was just as well versed in sexual health as she was in any other subject, as she responded at the speed of light, over-enunciating every word. “To reduce the risk of sexually transmitted infections and unwanted pregnancies.”

Shagrid looked pleased and awarded Bumfuzzle another round of points, but Ron seemed strangely unsettled. He had the look on his face that was usually reserved for when he’d eaten too many red vines but Harry knew for a fact that couldn’t be the cause this time as there were no red vines on Mars.

“Question two,” Shagrid said, clearly asking from memory now as the book lay firmly shut on the desk behind him. “What steps do you need to take to practice safe sex on Mars in particular?”

Once again Hermione’s hand shot straight up and Shagrid called on her again. “It’s a trick question - none!” she answered confidently.

“Exactly! And why’s that?”

“Because invisible space suits come with built-in invisible condoms!” answered Hermione.

“How do you know all this stuff, I thought you were supposed to be waiting until marriage!?” declared Ron.

“The same way I know everything, I read about it in a book,” she answered innocently.

“What the fuck kind of books are you reading that have space suit sex in them?”

“Star Trek fan fiction.”

“I’ll allow it!”

“Right,” declared Shagrid who opened the textbook again, but gave up pretty quickly. “So now that you know absolutely everything there is to know about safe sex, we can move on to lesson two.”

This time Dean put his hand up and asked “Sir, aren’t we going to be putting condoms on a cucumber or something?”

“While yes, I would ordinarily like to run through that exercise, one of our rabbit students ate all the cucumbers, so unfortunately, we won’t be able to cover that this year.”

“So, onto lesson two,” he declared, opening the textbook again, and staring at it with just as much confusion as before. It seemed like whatever was preventing Shagrid from reading the chapter titles was a far more systemic issue than merely a smudge of ketchup on one particular page.

While he struggled on, Ron continued to look at Hermione warily. Harry was all too familiar with the cycle of their constant bickering by now. Hermione would do something innocuous, Ron would become insecure about it and then they would make it into a whole thing. Of course, Ron was always in the right but that didn’t mean it wasn’t extremely annoying when the two of them weren’t talking to each other. Not for the first time he wondered if they should have brought Ginny along so he would at least have someone to talk to when they decided to act like this.

“Sir do you actually need help?” Paul asked, as Shagrid showed no signs of spontaneously learning to read.

“I thought I told you to shut up! 20 points from Poppycock!” As Paul sighed in annoyance Shagrid moved towards Hermione and quietly, but not at all subtly asked, “Miss Granger, what does this say?”

“Romancing,” she whispered back.

“Romancing!” He declared, drawing more squiggles on the board. “Lesson 2 is romancing! Thank you, I was just testing you, 13 points to bumfuzzle for passing my test,” he put down the book and looked at the class. “So now that you all know how not to give your partner deadly space crabs the next step is to learn how to get them into a situation where you would have been able to in the first place. In other words, we shall today learn the art of wooing.”

“Woo!” said Seamus.

“I would like to start by asking you all to imagine a scenario. Let’s say that you’re going about your business as usual, when one day you meet someone, someone who is perfect in every way.” Shagrid’s voice became incredibly tender, and his eyes misted over as if he’d forgotten the class was there altogether. “His smile can light up the room, his laugh is the laugh of a thousand suns, his butt is,” Shagrid mimed squeezing a pair of ass cheeks as he smiled in contentment. “You find yourself taking every opportunity to spend time with this incredible man, you feel like he understands you better than anyone ever could. That he sees every part of you, and you in turn see every part of him. Every night in your dreams, you see him with his black greasy hair, his long dark cape and that gorgeous green snake on his head.”

“Sir, are you talking about Professor Snake?” Paul asked innocently.

“I’ve-never-heard-that-name-in-my-life!” Shagrid screamed, far too quickly to be believable.

“But he’s your colleague-“

“Shut it you bowl headed melon!” Shagrid screamed, and if he was not mistaken Harry thought he could detect a hint of a sob breaking through his voice.

“You would give anything for this man to be your own. To put it plainly you love him, in a way that words can never truly express, and his mere presence in your life feels like a miracle.” He sighed and his focussed returned to the class as he asked, “If you were in that situation, what would you do?”

The whole class was staring at him in complete confusion with the one exception of Ron who began to slowly applaud his speech.

“No seriously,” said Shagrid. “Help a guy out, what would you do?”

“Um, I would tell him how I feel?” she suggested tentatively raising her hand.

“Well no Hermione, because you never tell someone you like them it just makes you look like an idiot,” Harry explained.

“Correct! Rule one of romancing is that once you develop feelings for someone you must never ever tell them, or anyone else. The object of your affections can never under any circumstances find out how you feel.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense,” Hermione protested.

“Miss Granger, are you familiar with the work of a man called Erwin Josef Schrodinger?”

“Nobel prize winning physicist born in Veinna 1887, most famous for his work on quantum wave functions?” she answered before Harry had even finished working out what the question meant.

“The very same! And what do you know of his cat: Mr Mittens?”

“I don’t think his cat was called Mr Mittens. I don’t think he actually even had a cat,” Hermione tried to explain, but Shagrid was clearly not open to participation from the class at this juncture, as he began to monologue.

“Now Erwin Schrodinger was a smart man yes, but he could also be a very cruel and very dangerous man. One day he decided to take his cat Mr Mittens and put him in a box. Now Mr Mittens was delighted at first as any cat would be, a brand new box all to himself, he must have thought it was Christmas. But he wasn’t alone in that box, oh no! For in that box there was also a gun. Yes, that’s right class, this cruel man left a cat all alone in a box with a gun. Now there are some cats that would deserve this treatment,” he looked pointedly at Paul Catthews whose eyes went wide in alarm, “but Mr Mittens was not one of them. For three days and for three nights he left him in there, all alone. With nothing but a gun for company-”

“Yes we all know what Schrodingers cat is!” Hermione screamed impatiently.

“I don’t! What happened to the poor cat?” Harry asked.

“Well that’s just it,” answered Shagrid, “When he opened the box it was dead. But it was also alive. It had achieved a new state of being that had hitherto only been dreamt of in the minds of crackpots and loons. The cat both was and was not.”

“Shit man, I can’t believe he’d do that to a poor cat,” Ron commented.

“There was no cat,” Hermione explained, “it was just a thought experiment designed to suggest a flaw in the Copenhagen interpretation. And there was no gun either it was a radioactive source with a Geiger counter connected to a flask of airborne poison. If quantum superposition applied to guns then we’d have far bigger problems on our hands than theoretically dead cats.”

“Sorry, what does all this have to do with getting laid?” Harry asked.

“I’m guessing he’s about to suggest that in the same way that Schrodinger’s cat existed in a state of being both dead and alive until he was observed, your feelings will be in a state of being both requited and un-requited until you ask. But the entire point of that thought experiment is that it’s not possible for-“

“Brilliant 69 points to bumfuzzle for not only reading around the subject, but also reading my goddamn mind!” Shagrid announced.

Ron, who somehow looked even more confused than Harry felt, raised his hand.

“What should you do if you’ve already told them you like them?” he asked innocently, “do you have to take it back or something?”

As Shagrid fumbled around for an answer, Hermione’s mouth fell agape.

“What the actual fuck Ron?” she exclaimed. “Professor, what should you do if someone says they like you, but they’re actually a complete asshole to you all the time?”

Shagrid smiled, “I see we’re all full of good questions today, I’m afraid I’ll have to-“

“Professor,” Ron began, now standing up angrily, “what should you do if you have recently developed good reasons to believe that your girlfriend is making eyes at other people behind your back.”

“Professor, what if your boyfriend has gone completely insane and is seeing things that aren’t there.”

“Professor,” grumbled Harry, “what should you do if your friends start dating and spend their whole lives making you sit through stupid arguments.”

“Oh please don’t act like you and Ginny are any better,” Hermione retorted.

“Yeh professor what should you do if your best friend starts shagging your sister under your own roof,” added Ron.

“And what should the lady do,” began Malfoy, who’d been watching this exchange gleefully, “when she realises she’s chosen a pathetic, immature child, when the boy of her dreams was there waiting for her the whole time.”

“Malfoy I am never going to have sex with you!” Hermione snapped removing his wandering hand from around her waist.

As Malfoy asked the professor what he should do about this situation, he was joined by a cacophony of voices all presenting their many and varied personal struggles to the class. As Ron and Hermione turned to face each other, cutting the middleman out of their bickering entirely, Seamus stood up and could be heard asking “Professor, I’ve got this mole on my back!” from amongst the din.

“OKAY OKAY THAT’S ENOUGH!” Shagrid bellowed causing everyone to resume their seats and straighten their clothes. “I think I’ve proved my point, never tell someone you like them because one, it’ll make you look like an idiot and two, you’ll have to deal with whatever the fuck that was.” Shagrid snapped. "Shall we move onto lesson three,” he checked his notes, only briefly this time, before he confidently announced the new topic: “sfx.”

“Um Sir do you mean sex?” Paul asked.

“No I do not mean sex!” Shagrid answered aggressively. “It is an acronym.”

“Oh yeh, what does it stand for?” Paul asked.

“Sexually…,” he mumbled something incoherent,  “…xylophones! You know what Paul? Fuck you! 10 billion points from poppycock for being a poopy little butthole.”

“Oh come on that’s not fair term’s just started!” he moaned as Harry and Ron exchanged a high five at the advantage bumfuzzle had just gained in the house cup tournament.

“Well I guess you’ll just have to find yourself some more points then!” joked Shagrid.

“That’s not even the right house, Codswallop are the finders.”

“You know what, go and stand in the fucking corner!”

Paul eyed the corner of the stage he was pointing at, almost pinching himself to check he wasn’t in some bizarre nightmare.

“What?” he asked.

“Go and stand in the-“ Shagrid huffed as he ambled over to Paul and grabbed him by the shoulder, “fucking corner.” He finished as he roughly shoved Paul towards the back of the stage.

“You seriously want me to stand in the corner,” Paul asked from the corner.

“Yes I want you to stand in the corner, and turn around,” Shagird commanded.

“You want me to-“ Paul began to ask, before he was interrupted by Shagrid storming over and forcibly turning him around to face the curtain.

While everyone had quieted down from their earlier hysteria, Harry could tell the change of subject had done nothing to remove the sourness between Ron and Hermione who were still glowering at each other when they thought the other wasn’t looking.

“Right, now on with the sfx,” Shagrid announced brightly.

“It says sex!” Paul called out from the corner.

“Shut the fuck up! So,” he opened his book and started to leaf through it aimlessly once more.

“Professor,” asked Hermione.

“What!”

“Would you like a hand?”

“No thank you Miss Granger, but 10 points for your kind offer. Yes, here it is, lesson three. So question one. What is a slow job?”

“Do you think that maybe you can’t read?” asked Paul from the corner.

“You shut the fuck up. It says it right here in the textbook, question one what is a, oh maybe it does say blow job? Okay can anyone tell me what a blow job is?”

As usual, Hermione’s hand shot straight up into the air, where it was tentatively joined by Seamus, Dean and Harry’s. Ron on the other hand clearly had no idea what the answer to the question was and was looking at the sea of hands extremely nervously.

“Yes, Dean,” Shagrid said, but before he could open his mouth to answer Hermione had already jumped in.

“A blow job is a form of oral sex which involves contact between a mouth and a penis.”

While this was a perfectly innocuous exchange it was clear that Ron was not taking it as such, as he began to grip Harry’s sleeve tightly.

“Question 2 what is motorborting?”

“Motorboating,” Paul muttered from the corner.

“Oh like you know what that means!”

Hermione’s hand shot straight up into the air once more. “Motorboating,” she began before Professor Shagrid even had a chance to call on her, “is a sexual act that involves face to breast contact, and vigorous, repeated movement in a horizontal direction.”

As Hermione answered the question, Ron grew several shades paler, which was both impressive and concerning considering he was ginger to begin with.

“420 points to Bumfuzzle for a slew of correct answers” announced Professor Shagrid. “You know Hermione, you really are the brightest witch of your age.”

“Ha more like shitest bitch of your age!” Ron joked desperately, looking to Harry, the Seamus than Dean for approval, but receiving nothing but disappointed stares.

“We’ve had a good lesson today then class, but one more question before I let you all go. Can anyone tell me what it means to [redacted] someone in the [redacted]?” Professor Shagrid asked, bleeping out the contents of his question because of just quite how depraved and vulgar it was.

Hermione’s hand shot up once more, but this time before she could begin to answer Ron stood up with tears of imagined betrayal glimmering on his cheeks.

“Oh great!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands up in despair. “Well I’m happy that you’ve found someone who will [redacted] you in your [redacted]. You know I could have been that guy, for you I could have been him, but no. Clearly it doesn’t matter what I do because I will never be good enough for you.”

“Ron, what the fuck are you talking about?” she asked.

Ron’s crying intensified, as he turned and stormed out of the classroom. She tried to call out after him, but it was too late, he was already gone.

There was a long, awkward pause before Shagrid declared. “Well I think that’s enough excitement for one day! I’ll see you all next week when we’ll be covering butt stuff. Class dismissed!”

As the students began to file out of the room Hermione hung back to talk to Professor Shagrid who was trying to read from his textbook again, which seemed to be giving him even more of a challenge than before as he was holding it upside down. She had been hoping Ron and Harry would show at least a little interest in solving the mystery that had brought them here, but clearly they would once again leave her to do all the heavy lifting until they decided things had gotten interesting enough for them.

“Professor Shagrid,” she began.

“Ahh yes my star pupil! And please Hermione, call me Screwbeus.”

“Do you know someone called Rubeus Hagrid?”

For a moment it looked as though recognition passed across his face but it was gone as quickly as it had arrived.

“I don’t think so, it’s a good name though.”

“Never mind then, it was just Professor Snake suggested that the Pigfarts professors might be connected to people we know back on Earth and I was wondering if you knew anything about that.”

“Snake?” he asked, shuffling his papers more nervously than before. “Did he, um, did he mention me at all?”

“No he didn’t,” she answered bluntly, “but he did mention something called the black and white but wouldn’t tell us what it was, do you know anything about that?”

“No I’ve never heard of that. You’re sure he didn’t say anything about me?”

“Nope.”

“Not even a little-?”

“No, he said nothing.”

Shagrid turned around to face away from her, and Hermione would have put money on the fact that he was hiding tears.

“Oh well if that’s all, I should probably get on with crying myself to sleep and-“ he began to walk out of the room hastily, but Hermione grabbed him by the shoulder and forcibly turned him around.

“I wanted to talk to Professor Hidgens about this, but seeing as he’s not here, you don’t know anything about that song he sang at the welcome feast do you?”

“Ahh yes, what a jolly wee number that was, he truly is a talented composer.”

“I’m sure, but I was wondering about two things in particularly. Firstly, do you know who Albus Dumbledore is?”

“Oh yes of course Rumbleroar used to mention him all the time, he was headmaster of Hogwarts wasn’t he?”

“Yes! So do you know where he is?”

“Yes I think Rumbleroar mentioned it.”

Hermione grinned with excitement. She’d known Dumbledore had to still be alive. Whatever Harry insisted on believing, it had always been clear to her that Dumbledore was not a reliable person, and everything that had happened at the end of last term, combined with the note they’d found seemed to point to the obvious conclusion that Professor Shagrid was on the cusp of confirming.

“I can’t seem to recall the name exactly,” he said eventually, “but it was definitely a wizard cemetery that they buried him in.”

She groaned with disappointment. Of course it wouldn't be easy to find answers, that would just be too convenient wouldn't it. For her to ask a question and someone to know the answer. But regardless, she was not looking forward to dealing with Harry’s wizard angst when they found out, so was not in too much of a rush to get an answer to that particular question.

“Eugh fine okay, I also wanted to ask about the bit at the end of the song. When the lyrics got really dark.”

"I’m afraid I don't know what you're talking about Miss Granger,” he answered, looking genuinely confused.

"You must do,” she implored “the bit at the end of the song when he was said we should be scared?"

"Oh that, he was probably just trying to make the rhyming work.”

She found this excuse about as convincing as she had this morning when Harry had said it.

"Listen Hermione,” he continued putting his hand on her shoulder, “I don't know what you've heard about life on Mars but things are different now that Lord Voldewarthog has gone.”

"Who is this Lord Voldewarthog?" she burst out, "I've never heard of him, he's not mentioned at all in Pigfarts: A History and to be honest he sounds kind of stupid."

At this Shagrid adopted a very serious and somewhat annoyed tone. "Now I know his name may sound a bit silly, but he murdered Professor Cornwallis, my friend, violently and in cold blood. If you’re not convinced, take it up with Rumbleroar, I saw him when he emerged from Cornwallis’s room that night and I may have forgotten a great many things in my life, but as long as I live, I will never forget the look on his face.”

Shagrid stormed out leaving Hermione alone in the room looking around in confusion, her brain practically whirring as it tried to shuffle around pieces of a puzzle it hadn't known existed. “But that doesn’t make any sense," she said to the empty room "Voldemort didn’t stab people, and warthogs don’t stab people, so why would this Voldewarthog person, or warthog, stab Professor Cornwallis?”

Chapter Text

ACT 1 SCENE 6 - DARK SAD LONELY KNIGHTS

PART 1: HAUNTED BY THE KISS

“Man, class was weird, do you think it’s usually like that?” Harry asked a despondent Ron as they walked down an empty corridor.

While Harry sauntered about cheerily, Ron merely grunted in response, trudging along behind as he dragged his feet heavily and stared miserably at the floor. Spotting a bench, he eased himself down onto it and began to search his pockets for any snacks that might help numb the pain. All he could find, however, was a piece of string and some crumbs that were God knows how old. He held them up to his nose as he tried to decide whether or not to eat them.

“What’s up?” Harry asked, stopping in his strides as he noticed Ron was no longer by his side.

Ron took a deep breath and buried his head in his hands.

“Nothing,” he groaned.

Harry tentatively placed a hand on his friend’s shaking back and patted it awkwardly.

“How did she know all of that stuff about sex?” Ron moaned.

“Who, Hermione?”

Ron nodded with his mouth open in silent wail of pain as big, snotty tears began to fall at the mere mention of her name.

“Didn’t she say she read about it,” Harry explained.

“Yeh well she would say that.”

“Yeh?” Harry agreed, looking incredibly uncomfortable as he patted Ron some more. He looked about for Hermione. This was usually her thing.

“I know I may only be 13 years old, but I am really, really confident that I will literally never be happy again.”

“I think you might be overthinking things a bit, she’d just read about some stuff in a book is all.”

“Well then why won’t she kiss me?” Ron asked.

“What do you mean? Didn’t you guys kiss last year when we were fighting Voldemort?”

“We did,” Ron answered slowly, “And you know as I stood over her body and screamed like a gorilla it felt…, well it just felt nice. But since then, she has completed refused to kiss me, or show me any affection at all! You know what it’s like. It's like from the moment I met her, all those years ago," Ron began to stare into the distance as he lost himself in his words, "not a single day has gone away that I didn’t think of her. But now that I’m with her, I’m in agony, and the closer that I get to her the worst it gets for me. But the thought of not being with her, I cannot breathe. I’m haunted by the kiss that she never should have given me-”

“Hold on a minute isn’t that from Star Wars?” Harry asked, if nothing else beginning to grow concerned that if Professor Hidgens saw Ron deliver a monologue like that he might lose out on the lead role in Working Boys.

“Whatever, but the point stands,” said Ron. He went back to staring at the middle distance as he resumed his dramatic pose, “My heart won’t stop beating. I’m hoping that this kiss will never ever become a scar. She’s in my soul, she’s tormenting me, and if she’s suffering as much as I am, please won’t she tell me. Because the thought of not being with her, I just can’t breathe. I’m haunted by the kiss that she never should have given me-“

“Yeh, yeh you already said that bit,” Harry cut across. “Ron, of course she hasn’t kissed you since last summer, everyone knows you can’t kiss with spacesuits on."

“Really?” Ron asked, looking genuinely hopeful for the first time since the conversation had begun. “But Professor Shagrid said you could have sex in them because of the invisible condoms or whatever?”

“Well yeh sure you can have sex in them, but come on, you can't kiss with a helmet on, even if it is invisible.”

“You know what that actually makes perfect sense,” Ron said with a genuine smile. “So, you don’t think she’s been hooking up with other people or anything?”

Harry clapped Ron on the shoulder and looked him reassuringly in the eye. “Hermione Granger is the nerdiest prude I know. It is a miracle she’s even managing to get with one person, let alone two.”

“Yeh you’re right,” Ron said looking a lot perkier, “thanks Harry, and by the way I didn’t mean any of that stuff I said about you and Ginny, it was just in the heat of the moment you know.”

“Yeh no worries, I mean I did mean that stuff about you and Hermione always fucking arguing but anyways.”

Ron slumped back down on the bench as he sighed despondently once more. “God I just wish there was some way I could make her like me the way I like her, you know?”

“Listen if you want Hermione to like you, I’ll tell you what you’ve got to do,” Harry began, putting his arm around Ron’s shoulder as Ron looked up at him eagerly.

“So you remember Sirius Black told us the most important rule for dealing with women right?” Harry continued with a questionable air of confidence and authority.

“Yeh you never tell a girl you like her because it makes you look like an idiot,” Ron answered.

“Exactly, but he also told me rule two, which is that if you really want a girl to like you you’ve just got to be try to be as emotionally distant as possible.”

“Emotionally distant?” Ron asked, looking up at Harry sceptically. “Are you sure?”

“Yeh, women love that, apparently. And it makes sense, think about every great work of romantic fiction," he counted off on his fingers as he began listing off works of literature. "Pride and Prejudice: emotionally unavailable man that the heroine ultimately falls in love with. Twilight, emotionally distant man, eventually gets the girl.”

“Iron Man 2,” said Harry.

“Emotionally distant man, gets the girl,” Ron said nodding along.

“The bee movie,”

“Emotionally distant bee almost gets the girl but the species barrier proves too much to overcome. Damn Harry I didn’t realise you were so into romance novels," Ron said looking impressed. "So do you do this with Ginny?” he asked.

“Me and Ginny don’t really talk a lot,” Harry explained, “that’s not really how our relationship works. We’re much more about the fucking. It turns out we’re both into some really wild shit, you know I never thought I’d find someone who could understand me physically in this way.”

Ron put his fingers in his ears, “Okay la, la, la, rule one of you fucking my sister was don’t talk about fucking my sister. It’s bad enough that I have to sleep next to it.”

Harry apologised and returned to their previous conversation. “Sorry, but yeh if you want to get a girl to like you other than not telling them, the best thing you can do is to be emotionally unavailable.”

“Are you absolutely sure about this?” Ron asked uncertainly, “I really need this to work.”

Harry threw his arms up to protest his innocence, “Hey look, I’m just the messenger but Sirius seemed pretty confident about this.”

“Damn and he seemed like he had a lot of experience with women.” Ron screwed up his face as he mulled it over in his brain. “Okay you know what, I’ll give it a go but I really hope this works because I just, I need things to work out with Hermione.”

“Okay great,” said Harry, relieved that his friend now seemed to be returning to his usual self. If there was one good thing about this fight it was that the two of them finally had some alone time away from Hermione in which they could engage in wacky hijinx undisturbed and he was keen not to see another moment of it squandered.

“Now,” began Harry, who had already been concocting a plan for their next misadventure. “Do you want to try pouring coke into Professor McGonnagill’s tank to see what happens?”

“Oh would I!” Ron exclaimed as they stood up and skipped off stage, arm in arm.

PART 2: GRANGER DANGER

Elsewhere in the castle, Draco was lying down on a bench minding his own business when Hermione Granger walked onto the stage. He instantly sat bolt upright and brushed his hair out of his eyes to try and catch her attention, but there was no need as it seemed for the first time in his life Hermione actually wanted to talk to him of her own free will.

“Hey Draco,” she said, forcing a very strained smile as he sat up even straighter. “Do you know where Larry Smotter is?”

“Oh no I thought it best to leave him alone for a bit, he’s been acting rather weird lately,” Draco replied, moving over to make a space for her.

She accepted the offer and sat down next to him, leaning over eagerly. In fact, it was a little too eager for Draco who had to cross his legs tightly to hide what it was doing in his pants.

“What do you mean he’s been acting weird?” she asked.

“Between you and me, he’s a lovely fellow but at times he can be a bit doolally. He says he’s been seeing warthog footprints all over his bed chamber.”

Hermione’s eyes went wide. “Warthog footprints?” she asked.

“Indeed,” he answered, emboldened by her sudden interest in him. “And you know I told him not to read too much into it, these sorts of things are bound to happen on Mars, but that didn’t seem to reassure him, so I said I’d come take a second look at it. But, when I got there these 'footprints' had somehow magically disappeared. You know I gave him the benefit of the doubt, this is a magic castle after all, perhaps they had actually magically disappeared, but then the exact same thing happened again. He said there were footprints, I went to see the footprints and they'd gone. And this of course has lead me to the unfortunate conclusion that the poor boy must have lost his mind. And it really is a pity because he always seemed like such a fine, level-headed fellow.”

Hermione frowned, “Yeh they were probably just left by some random animal, there are thousands if not ten of them here at Pigfarts after all. But has he said anything specifically about this Lord Voldewarthog everyone’s been talking about?”

Draco scoffed, “I’ll say. I don’t think he’s spoken about much else since we met, poor chap, although I’ve not seen him more possessed by it than he has been these past few days. Ever since he first claimed to be seeing footprints it's like he's scared, in a way that I've never seen someone be scared before.”

“Urrghghh,” Hermione groaned in frustration as she leaned over and kneaded her forehead with her knuckles. “There’s so much weird stuff going on here, first the note, then the song, and now all this about Lord Voldewarthog and I have no idea how it all fits together. It feels like I’m starring at a bunch of puzzle pieces but there's no picture on the box." She took a deep breath in, "And frankly, I wish it wasn’t all being left up to me to work out.”

“Trouble in paradise?” Draco asked pointedly.

“I just don’t know why he’s acting like this,” she answered with her eyes scrunched up.

“Well have you ever considered that maybe you can do better than him? Maybe you’re into shorter, blonder men?” replied Draco as he fiddled with his tie and sat up taller in an attempt to look more impressive.

Hermione ignored both his comment, and his wandering arm. “I just wish he'd take a bit more of an interest in everything that's going on around here! Every year someone has tried to kill us, so I don't think it's too unreasonable to suggest that we should be a little on the look out for danger especially when everything seems so goddam suspicious. But no, it looks like this is going to be exactly like every other year where Ron and Harry leave me to worry about everything and figure it all out on my own, until they decide to swan on in at the last minute all like 'Uh Hermione, what's the plan,'" she said adopting a crude imitation of Harry's voice. "You know what?" she continued, sitting up a little straighter as a plan began to form in her mind. "I'm going on strike. Let’s see how they do without my help for a change. Let them figure out who No D is and whatever else is going on here by themselves.”

“Well you know,” Draco said, finally seeing an opening. “I may not know who No D is, but I can tell you that yes D is right here.” He opened his legs and gestured at his crotch area.

“Okay I cannot be dealing with this,” Hermione snapped, as she stood up and grabbed her stuff. “God I wish Ginny was here! And then maybe we could pass the Bechdel test as well!”

“Does this not count?” Malfoy asked innocently.

“No this doesn't count! I’m going to find Professor McGonnagills!” Hermione announced angrily as she stormed off stage.

“And I'll go have a chat with Dean Thomas about what we can do about this whole Beschdel thing," Malfoy shouted after her, as he marched off in the other direction.

PART 3: THE PROBLEM WITH ARSENAL IS THEY ALWAYS TRY AND WALK IT IN

Later on, the lights went up on the same bench, where Slitherus Snake was now sat deeply engrossed in a book. Having had a rather pleasant morning, involving beating some first years and a trip to the infamous martian pleasure springs, he was in high spirits as he hummed merrily to himself and swayed his head from side to side, while he tapping his feet like an excited school girl.

This joyful reverie, however, was shattered by the entrance of one extremely mopey looking Seamus Finnegan, who sat down beside him with his arms crossed. In all his years of teaching there was nothing Slitherus Snake had grown to hate more than being vented at by love sick teengaers. Other teachers like McGonnagills and Rumbleroar may enjoy the whole role model, parental figure thing, but for Snake trying to sympathise with a hormonal thirteen year old was very much towards the top of his personal list of fears.

He tried to ignore him and get back to his reading but barely made it halfway through one page before Seamus began to sigh loudly. Violent thoughts passed through Snake’s mind but he tried to push them back, as he focussed with all his might on the words on the page in front of him. Seamus sighed again.

Snake snapped his book shut.

“Jesus Christ, what is it?” he grumbled.

Seamus looked up like he hadn’t even noticed Slitherus was there. “It doesn’t matter,” Seamus snapped back as he continued to huff and stare daggers into the floor.

“Well clearly it does so can you hurry up with whatever bullshit you’re going to complain about so I can finish my chapter before I have to go teach.”

“I just don’t bloody like the way he’s still bringing it up is all,” Seamus began.

“Okay great, well I’m glad you were able to get that off your chest-“

“I mean why can’t we just let things be, you know what I’m saying?!”

“Yeh,” Snake answered rolling his eyes.

“It’s like he can’t even see how it’s hurting me, or worse,” Seamus looked comedically on the verge of tears “he can see, and he just doesn't care.” He bit down on his fist to stop tears that were very much not there from falling.

“I’m sorry what is this even about?” Slitherus asked.

“It’s Dean,” Seamus sighed “He’s been on and on, gloating for months now about how bloody fucking happy he is about West Ham’s performance this year.”

“And do you not support them?” Snape asked trying to get to the bottom of this as swiftly as possible.

“Nah fam I support Arsenal innit,” replied Seamus.

“Hmmmm,” he muttered as he shrivelled up his nose. “Glory Chaser.”

“Not bloody likely with how they’ve been performing lately,” responded Seamus looking defeated. “Completely bottled it mate. Weekend after weekend, we lost to bloody Tottenham of all teams!”

“Aren't Tottenham supposed to be quite good though?” asked Snake.

“Don’t be absurd!” said Seamus.

“You’re absurd!” Snake cut across reflexively. “Well look, can’t you just be happy for him?"

“I could be happy for him if he wasn’t being such a bloody pain in my left bollock!”

“Hmmm,” Snake nodded, having long since run out of patience with this conversation. “Well I support Millwall myself.”

Seamus stood up, as his nose now shrivelled up in disgust. “You bloody scumbag!” he cried as he shook his head and walked off stage.

Happy to finally be in peace, he tried to return to his book, but it was no use as the damage had already been done.

“Look you’ve gone and made me lose my place,” he grumbled before walking off stage, twirling his cloak behind him.

PART 4: MY WIRES ARE PROTECTED FROM ABNORMAL BEINGS LIKE YOU

“The situation is far stranger, nay far graver, than I feared.” Professor Hidgens began, as he walked on to the stage and launched straight into a monologue.

“I arranged cover for all my classes this afternoon so I could further investigate the mystery of the blue shit, but! When I went back to my room to collect a sample for the wizard mass spectrometer, I opened the drawer I had found it in, and do you know what I saw, Alexa-“ he choked up a bit on his fist as he accidentally said her name, “Do you know what I saw,” he gathered himself “when I opened up the drawer? Absolutely nothing!” he announced to the empty room. “It had disappeared. Complete gone! So naturally, I went straight back to my classroom to report my findings to my dearest Alexa, when… when….” he collapsed to the floor and wailed dramatically, “she'd run out of battery!”

As Professor Hidgens sat there, a collapsed, pathetic wreck, beating his fists against the stage, Professor Shagrid walked in.

“There you are Henry,” he said in his ridiculous Scottish accent, “listen I know teaching is boring, but you’ve got to stop asking me to cover your classes! Wait what are you doing on the floor?” he asked, suddenly noticing the bizarre scene before him.

“Screwbeus!” Hidgens proclaimed, standing up and brushing down his clothes. “You find me in a most troubled state.”

“Oh no I’m sorry to hear that my friend, what’s the matter?” Shagrid asked kindly.

Hidgens sighed and dragged his hand across a deeply furrowed brow. “It’s nothing, it's nothing, just an affair of the heart.”

“Well I know a thing or two about that myself as it happens,” he sighed as images of snakes passed through his mind. “Why don’t you come and sit down on old Screwbeus’ knee, and we'll see what we can do about things. You know the world always looks a little brighter from on top of a lap.”

Shagrid sat down and patted his lap, which Hidgens plopped himself down on morosely. Shagrid began to bounce him up and down, his grey wig flying wildly as he did.

“So what’s the matter?” Shagrid asked, still bouncing him.

“Well it all started with this blue shit I found in my sock drawer,” Hidgens began.

“Last time I found some blue shit in my closet I drank it,” said Shagrid, nodding in understanding.

“But you don’t understand,” Hidgens grabbed Shagrid’s head in his quivering hands as the bouncing stopped.

“I don’t understand,” agreed Shagrid, from between Hidgen's palms.

“This afternoon, the blue shit vanished!”

Shagrid nodded understandingly, “I vanished my bottle of blue shit too.”

“Oho but this was no ordinary blue shit.” said Hidgens, completely ignoring Shagrid’s input “This was the sign of the apotheosis!” He looked around as though expecting gasps from the empty room.

“Apotheosis?" asked Shagrid. "What does that mean?”

“It doesn’t matter what it means, it only matters what it implies! Could my calculations have been wrong? Are we saved, or does something far worse lie in store for us. And…” he sighed, “and on top of that: heartbreak. The one person who I could always rely on has at long last abandoned me,” he sighed deeply and buried his face in his hands. “Yes. My Alexa has run out of battery.”

Shagrid paused, looking puzzled. “Have you thought about, you know, charging her up at all? You can borrow my wee cable if that’s your issue?”

He nodded in resignation. “Maybe. I’m just not sure if it’s worth it.”

“Of course it’s worth it! Those things are like 20 quid a pop,” said Shagrid, readjusting his fake beard which had started to fall into his mouth.

“It’s just she’s been somewhat... distant lately.” Hidgens continued to look crestfallen.

“How so?” Shagrid asked through mouthfuls of beard.

“Well I… The other day I was having a really rough time, so I said to her: Hey Alexa, I’m sad. And do you know what she fucking did? She played fucking Despacito."

“Henry, I'm saying this because I'm your friend, have you ever thought that maybe it’s not entirely healthy to be trying to fuck a speaker?”

Hidgens looked blank as though he hadn’t understood the sentence “No, I'm afraid I don't catch your drift?”

“Do you think that maybe you could have feelings for someone else and you're trying to compensate with this whole Alexa thing? I know how you feel, to tell you the truth there’s someone here at Pigfarts who I’ve had my eye on for a while so I know it can be hard to admit that to yourself, especially if you don’t think anything can happen.”

“How dare you bring Chad into this!” Henry screamed.

Shagrid looked taken aback. “Who the fuck is Chad?”

“You know what just forget it, I’m going to get Slitherus to cover my class tomorrow morning. I simply cannot be expected to create under these conditions!” Professor Hidgens declared as he stormed off stage.

“Slitherus?” Shagrid called out, "Wait for me, I need to talk to him about, things. Homework and tests and stuff."

He bolted out after him on his scrawny chicken legs as he grabbed the pillow in his stomach to stop it from falling out.

Chapter Text

ACT 1 SCENE 7 – SCARVES ARE FOREVER

Rumbleroar stood alone on stage, as he prepared to make an official announcement to the whole school over the Pigfarts magical intercom. To amplify his voice, he pointed an oversized wand directly at the throat of the tiny, stuffed lion perched on top of his head, and thus began to speak:

“Good evening Pigfarts students, may Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger, please make their way to the mysterious wardrobe on the third floor corridor after class today, as there is some very important business for them to attend there. Now I know there are those of you who will be thinking ‘surely this is an incredibly insecure way to deliver a secret meeting time and location’ but fuck you Love Island's on in 5 minutes and I don’t have time to track down individual students. Oh, also, a quick reminder that the lifts will be out of order this evening for routine maintenance. XOXO, Rumbleroar out!”

As the lights dimmed and Rumbleroar walked backwards off stage, the aforementioned mysterious closet was wheeled out to replace him. It was a large item of cheap Swedish furniture, with no ornamentation or markings on it, save for a large paper sign which read ‘Occupied. Please knock.’

“Okay it’s fine, just play it cool,” Hermione said to herself from just off stage, as she psyched herself up for the first part of 'operation: going on strike'. Hermione Granger had, for the first time in her life decided to arrive late to something, and as she looked at the hands on her invisible watch, the confidence she had felt earlier began to wane.  “You are going to go out there and show them you don’t give a f- fuck,” she continued to herself, struggling a bit on the word ‘fuck’. “You are going to show them that you don’t give a fuck about showing up on time because you are the coolest girl, you are a badass, and you are not a failure, overall.”

With that she strutted out on stage confidently. “Hi guys, oh sorry am I late I didn’t notice” she announced sardonically, only to have that turn into a full body groan when she noticed that Harry and Ron had not yet arrived.

“Urrgh you have got to be kidding me,” she cried as she shook her head in disbelief at the empty room.

She then looked at the wardrobe that they had been summoned here to inspect and began to walk towards it, catching herself when she remembered she was supposed to be on strike from investigating that sort of thing. The wardrobe itself looked unremarkable with the most interesting thing about it probably being the sign on the door saying 'Occupied.' But occupied with what? The wood was brown, but there were no trees on Mars so the furniture must be imported? But then by that logic all of the benches and stools they had been using must also have been imported? She realised that without thinking about it she'd been trying to solve the mystery again so tried to shift focus onto her annoyance at her now increasingly late friends.

A few moments later Harry and Ron finally walked in, cackling away like a pair of little gremlins.

“Oh, hi Hermione,” Harry said nonchalantly.

“Okay where the hell have you guys been? You’re,” she looked at her invisible watch growing alarmed as she noticed the time, “4 minutes late!”

“Yeh we were just trying to find some coca cola to pour in Professor McGonnagills’ fish bowl, you know just to see what would happen, but who would have guessed, they don’t have coke on Mars,” Ron began with a cheery timbre, “no pepsi either, I guess this is what happens when you’re a secret wizard school in space. But anyway, then we tried to put salt in Professor Slughorn’s moisturiser, you know to see if he'd explode - weird that his name’s not any different but I guess if the shoe fits - but anyway it turns out he doesn’t even have moisturiser because slugs are self-lubricating, that’s a fun fact I didn’t know. Oh, and then the lifts were broken so we had to take the stairs everywhere, but gravity's less on Mars so it wasn't too bad, although the stairs here do not move, yeh we found that one out the hard way. Peanut?” he asked offering Hermione a nut out of the bag he was holding.

He stopped himself, however, when he caught a telling glance and an elbow to the side from Harry, reminding him of Sirius’s advice.

“Um sorry I mean, no you may not have a peanut and, uh psst whatever,” he said in his best imitation of what he imagined an emotionally distant man would sound like. He stowed the bag of peanuts back in his pocket and glanced uncertainly at harry to check this was the sort of thing he’d meant. While Ron had no idea what he was doing or how this could possibly be something women liked, he took heart from the nod of encouragement he received from Harry in response.

Hermione, meanwhile, looked extremely confused both by Ron’s tales of their afternoon activities and his sudden change of tone.

“What?” She asked.

“Yeh you heard me it’s none of your, uh,” he looked at Harry for reassurance, “business what we’ve been up to.”

“Why are you acting like this? Are you two hiding something?”

“No, I, uh,” Ron answered, trying to think fast. He looked at Harry for support who gestured aimlessly with his hands, looking just as lost as Ron felt. “Uh, Fuck you!” Ron eventually said as Harry patted him on the back.

“Um Excuse me!” Hermione responded aghast, crossing her arms and stepping towards them angrily. “Well, you know what, I don’t care why you two are late.”

“Okay cool,” said Harry, rubbing his hands together, “so what do you guys think this whole wardrobe thing’s about?” He walked round to the back of the wardrobe and eyed it up and down.

“I don’t care,” Hermione continued, wrestling Harry away from the wardrobe, “because I have officially gone on strike from running around trying to sorting out all your problems. If you want to figure out what’s going on here then be my guest but I’m tapping out.”

“Oh my god yes finally,” Harry said, as he fist-pumped the air. “Does this mean you’ll shut up about Professor Hidgens now?”

Hermione made a strange little choking sound at the back of her throat, as she began to protest. “But don’t you want to know who No D is and what happened to Dumbledore?”

Harry put his hand on her shoulder. “Dumbledore is dead,” he condescendingly explained, “I don’t know why you’re having such a hard time accepting this, like are you okay?”

She rolled her eyes, pushed him away and turned to Ron who was still pulling an odd series of tough looking facial expressions, that more than making seem cool, had the effect of making him look constipated.

“And what about you Ron?” she asked, “Do you care that I’m not involved anymore?”

“Yeh whatever,” he said looking straight down at his feet in feigned disinterest.

“Why are you behaving like this?” she asked. “Do you even understanding what I’m saying?”

Truth be told he was now putting so much mental thought into pretending not to care about what she was saying that he no longer had any idea what she actually was saying.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?” he said far too quickly and with a great deal of uncertainty in his voice, phrasing it almost as a question. He looked to Harry in panic, but Harry flashed him the okay symbol to confirm he was on the right track.

“What is the matter with you Ronald?” she asked.

“I could ask you the same thing!” he snapped with wide eyes and still with no idea what he was saying.

Fortunately for Ron, who was at this point a few seconds away from the verbal dressing down of his life, Hermione was prevented from beginning her next sentence by Draco Malfoy, who arrived on the stage panting heavily and clutching at his side. “Sorry I’m late chaps,” he wheezed, “the stairs are broken too now so I had to scale the castle. Gravity here's less though so it wasn't so bad.”

The mood in the room instantly boiled over as the resentment that had been building towards each other finally found itself an outlet. Harry huffed angrily and stormed towards him, Hermione threw her hands up in annoyance, and Ron shook his head disapprovingly. Malfoy meanwhile, seemed not to notice this frosty reception as he ambled towards the wardrobe. “What do you think’s inside?”

“Malfoy what the fuck are you doing here!” Harry bellowed.

“He’s right,” Hermione agreed, albeit with an ounce more sympathy in her voice. “Professor Rumbleroar only said us three were supposed to meet here.”

“Friends, come on we’re a team,” Draco implored, “he clearly must have said ‘and Draco also’ but it got magically cut off by the magical intercom.”

“What about this isn’t clear to you, piss off Malfoy,” Ron spat.

“Oh no it’s fine actually he can stay.” Hermione snapped, as she flung a deriding glare in Ron’s direction.

“Oh hello opportunity!” Draco said, encircling Hermione with a look of pure ecstasy on his face, looking much like a Shark trying to stalk a fish several times bigger and stronger than him. Ron instantly leaped to action and put himself between Draco and Hermione, stretching his arms out wide in a t-shape to try and project dominance. Draco strutted right up to Ron’s face and stretched his arms out in kind as he tried to push backwards against Ron’s body.

“Oh my god, let’s just get this over with!” Hermione said as she rolled her eyes and walked away from the pair of them. They disengaged and brushed each other off, but still eyed each other with unbridled distrust.

“At least he didn’t bring Larry,” Harry muttered as he went to join Hermione by the closet.

She listened against the door and peered through the keyhole but couldn’t see or hear anything useful. As she pulled back to get a better look at the sign on the door, Harry pushed her to the side and carelessly yanked the door open. As he flung the door wide, a large, rainbow-striped scarf with buttons for eyes and a wide black opening for a mouth, and an old, brown wizards hat came tumbling out onto the floor.

“Argh! The sign clearly says knock!” Scarfy cried in a high pitched wail. “Oh thank god, you’re finally here!” he added as he noticed who it was that had opened the door. “I haven’t been in the closet this long since I was a child!”

“Scarfy!” Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco said in unison as Ron rushed in to hug the magical man known as Nick Lang who was dressed head to toe in a black sheet who operated the hat and scarf. He patted Ron on the back with the hat and scarf before they pulled back and returned to floating near the wardrobe.

“What are you two doing here?” Hermione asked excitedly, as Ron continued to stroke the scarf. She was overjoyed that this mystery at least had a friendly face to greet them at the end of it.

“Scarfy and I came here on our honeymoon last year,” answered the old hat. “And we were having such a lovely time too,” chimed in Scarfy, “until good old Albus Dumbledore decided to show up and ruin everything!”

“Dumbledore?!” asked Harry, “But Dumbledore’s dead! Oh no I’m so sorry you guys weren’t at Hogwarts last year so you wouldn’t know. Scarfy he’s dead, Professor Snape killed him.”

“And boy if I haven’t heard that story a thousand times,” Scarfy

“I don’t understand?” Harry asked.

“Snape tried to kill him, but it didn’t work,” explained Scarfy.

“H- How?” Harry stammered, “There’s no way to survive a killing curse?” Or at least he hadn’t thought there was, could Dumbledore have somehow managed to defy death like he had? But that wouldn’t make any sense, because if Dumbledore was alive he would have found a way to tell them.

“Says the boy who’s survived it twice,” jumped in the Sorting Hat. “Magic is an incredibly complicated and broad subject, which you wizards are only just beginning to scratch the surface of. Wooden sticks and Latin phrases will let you unlock some of it, but they’ll only get you so far. There is so much more out there, and it is far more powerful than you could possibly understand.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Yeh, yeh love is the most powerful magical force, Dumbledore said this like a billion times.”

“Yes love, but there are other things too. Darker things, creatures born from other dimensions. Space is vast and we pray that we may never see the deepest depths of it. Although in this case love does seem to be the more likely culprit.”

“How anyone could love that son of a bitch is beyond me!” Scarfy moaned petulantly.

“Scarfy please be reasonable,” warned the hat as Scarfy rolled his entire head in lieu of being able to roll his eyes.

“None of this makes any sense!” Harry tried to reason, as if by reasoning he could make it not so. “You’re trying to tell me that Dumbledore is still alive and he’s here at Pigfarts? Why would he do that? Why wouldn’t he just come talk to us, we’ve been here for months now, if not hours? Is he in trouble, has something happened to him?”

“He’s not the man he was,” the Sorting Hat began to explain.

“Oh you can say that again!” cried Scarfy. “He’s completely lost it!”

“What happened on Earth has changed him somewhat. He’s become moody and despondent. We’ve tried getting through to him, but my dear old Scarfy just has a way of pushing people’s buttons-”

“I believe in a little thing called telling people the truth and it’s not my fault if they’re not ready to hear it!” Scarfy said indignantly in defence of himself.

“Either way he won’t talk to us anymore, but I’m glad that Rumbleroar has finally decided to reach out to you kids about all this because lord knows our Dumby was not going to do it on his own.”

“Wait Rumbleroar’s in on this too?” Harry asked, feeling more betrayed with every word.

“Why of course dear! Who do you think brought old Dumby to Mars in the first place?” answered Scarfy. “When we came to Pigfarts, Rumbleroar was very interested by what we had to say about Earth. Something to do with, what was that company he was always talking about again?”

“CCRP,” replied the hat.

“Oh, I know CCRP,” Draco said confidently, his chest puffed out like a proud little peacock. “Yes, they’re a very reputable wizard company, my daddy does contract work for them all the time. Well at least he used to before he went to Azkaban.” Draco’s face fell.

“Shut up Malfoy your dad’s a dick,” said Harry, who had very much not forgotten the murder plot Lucius Malfoy had choreographed in their first year.

“Yeh that was it: CCRP,” continued the scarf, “something communications, research, and something. Some fucking business words I don’t know, but I’m not surprised that they’d work with a scoundrel like your father given everything I’ve heard about them,” Draco retreated backwards and stared at his shoes, but his distress received no support or acknowledgment from anyone present. “Anyway, Rumbleroar decided to visit Earth to see what he could find out about this company, something about an old Mars mission from the 90s or something? I don’t know, business crap. But, while he was there he started getting real pally with our Dumbledore, and so when everything went down with Voldemort and the fancy took him to fake his own death, Rumbleroar offered to bring him back to Mars to help him do just that. We were excited to see him at first, oh boy were we excited. But he’s just not been the same. He’s been depressed and despondent, he's hardly left Rumbleroar’s bed since getting here and it is certainly not because the sex is good; trust me scarves always know. And that was why I sent you guys that letter, but if I’d known how he would go onto behave, well then maybe I wouldn’t have bothered.”

Things slotted into place in Hermione’s brain, as the answer to the question that had brought them here finally revealed itself. “No D!” she exclaimed, pointing at Scarfy, “You’re No D! You left us that letter!”

“The No D is for my lack of wiener,” explained Scarfy, “items of enchanted magical clothing don’t have wieners.”

“Although, we make do,” the Sorting Hat added, giving his partner a cheeky wink.

While Hermione was relieved to have finally found out the identity of No D, Harry was feeling something closer to disbelief at their story.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” he said.

“Yes I’m also a bit confused,” said Hermione, “if you brought us here why haven’t you tried to speak to us sooner? And why are you in a closet?”

Scarfy and the hat began to shiver with fright in Nick’s hands. “We’re hiding from him,” the scarf trembled as it burrowed itself into the hat’s folds.

“From who?” Hermione asked bluntly.

“The musical theatre teacher,” explained the Sorting Hat as Scarfy wailed in fright. “Oh there, there my dear it’s okay,” he said, massaging his partner against his wrinkled folds.

“Professor Hidgens?” Hermione asked, taken aback that yet another question seemed to point to this mysterious man.

“Do not say his name!” the Sorting Hat screamed straight back.

“Why are you hiding from him?” Harry asked, much to Hermione’s surprise. “We’re actually trying to speak to him you see.”

“Wait,” Hermione said feeling pleasantly touched. “I didn’t realise you two were actually paying attention, I’m sorry I might have been a bit too harsh earlier.”

“Yeh,” Harry continued, “we need to speak to him about the Working Boys musical so we don’t miss the auditions.”

“Yes good point,” agreed Draco.

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration.

“Sorry Hermione,” Harry continued, “I didn’t realise you were interested in auditioning too. Look, I know it’s called Working Boys but I’m sure he’d be able to add in a working girl if we ask him nicely.”

“I don’t give a fuck about your stupid musical!” Hermione practically screamed in his face, “Have you guys forgotten that- no, you know what never mind, I’m on strike, and you guys are on your own this time.”

“Jesus Hermione don’t tell me that Paul guy got to you too,” said Ron.

“If you want to talk to him so bad why don’t you just try his office hours?” Scarfy asked.

“His office hours are 12-1,” answered Hermione.

“What’s your problem then?”

“His office is closed for lunch from 12-1!”

“Have you tried going outside of office hours?”

Hermione gasped. “I would never!”

“Well, I don't know what to tell you then, but if you do see him, tell him that this is one scarf he won’t scare so easily!”

With this bizarre outburst it was clear that their continued questioning had hit too close to a line as Scarfy and the Sorting Hat made their exit from the conversation, retreating into the wardrobe and slamming the door firmly shut behind them.

“But you’re literally hiding from him in a closet!” Hermione screamed after them.

She growled with frustration as the answers it had seemed she was so closed to getting slipped from beyond her grasp once more. She tried knocking and shoving at the door several times, but there was no response. Not for the first time, she felt like the only person who seemed to notice the troubling and bizarre events that surrounded them, as Ron was still giving her side eye and Harry was pre-occupied with his feelings towards Dumbledore’s betrayal.

“I can’t believe he would do this,” Harry said with a grim look on his face and a swirling knot in his stomach, “I never thought he would lie to me about something like this.”

“Let’s just talk to Dumbledore and see what he has to say for himself,” Hermione answered tiredly, as she looked at the wardrobe a while longer, hoping it would open again.

“Oh yeh we’ll see what he has to say for himself all right,” Harry muttered.

Looking around at his companion’s dismayed and downcast faces, Draco Malfoy decided that this was the perfect time to chime in and lighten the mood.

“You know chaps,” he began as the others stared at him in irritation. “This is exactly like in Glee when Rachel and -”

“No fuck Glee!” Harry snapped, sadness turning to anger, as Draco looked taken aback that his attempts to do something more had backfired.

“No, no, no, no” said Ron wagging his finger at Draco in defence of his friend. “You do not talk about Glee around Harry Potter.”

“Harry Potter does not like Glee,” agreed Harry. “I’m just tired of being told I look like that guy from it.”

Draco eyed him up and down, “Oh actually now you mention it you do look a bit like-”

“No. No I don't, you see I have long hair and he has short hair. Plus, I'm 13 years old whereas he's clearly in his 20s.”

“Oh yes well I suppose,” said Malfoy still squinting.

“Good well I’m glad we’ve got that cleared up, “Hermione said sarcastically. “Now let’s go to Professor Rumbleroar’s room, that’s where Scarfy said we’d find Dumbledore. Ron are you coming with or are you still not bothered?” she asked venomously.

“No whatever I don’t care,” he answered curling his hair and looking in the other direction.

“Oh my God whatever,” Hermione groaned as she walked off stage with Harry and Draco.

“Wait guys, wait for me!” Ron screamed looking panicked and running off after them.

Chapter Text

ACT 1 SCENE 8 - WIZARDS NEVER DIE

The journey to Rumbleroar’s bed chambers was as frosty and inhospitable as the surface of Mars itself. As Ron made a series of increasingly loud and lude jokes to try and get Hermione’s attention, she offered him nothing more than the occasional deriding glare in response as she was deep in thought trying to understand the implications of everything Scarfy had told them. His annoyance only grew further as not only were his misguided attempts at humour also ignored by Harry, but they received a rapturous response from Draco Malfoy which as far as Ron was concerned was the highest form of social humiliation.

Harry, meanwhile, was engulfed by his own internal storms as he struggled to make sense of his feelings towards Dumbledore. On the one hand of course he hoped he was still alive - how could he not? The alternative would be monstrous. But still, a deeper part of him, a part which he did not want to acknowledge, secretly prayed for that monstrous reality: that Dumbledore was nothing more than the rotting corpse they thought they’d left behind on a planet millions of miles away.

And things did not start to look up when they realised that, despite their insistence on ignoring Draco’s numerous attempts to tell them, the lifts were indeed out of order, so that by the time they arrived at their destination, having navigated miles of passages, staircases and dead ends, the mood between the four of them was truly sour indeed.

Once they approached Rumbleroar’s door, not wanting to drag things out any further, Harry flung it open to reveal one perfectly alive Albus Dumbledore, sitting on a rickety bed in a pair of undersized one direction pyjamas, in the exact same position that Rumbleroar had left him several days, if not minutes ago.

While Hermione, Ron and Draco’s faces lit up with excitement to see him alive and as well as they could have expected, Dumbledore let out a sigh of dismay as he realised the jig was up and he had finally been found out. Dismay, however, which was nothing compared to Harry’s.

“Dumbledore.” Harry said bluntly.

“Kids,” Dumbledore responded.

“So, I see you’re alive.” He pushed through the door and stormed straight up to Dumbledore.

“Hey, and you are too! Congrats!” Dumbledore responded with a smile in a doomed attempt to lighten the mood.

“No, fuck this!” Harry exclaimed, drawing his wand and pointing it in Dumbledore’s face, “Why did you lie to me, why did you lie to all of us about being dead?” Harry asked with cold fury dripping from his voice.

“Harry, come on man, I thought we were tight?”

“You know I thought we were too, but it seems I was wrong.”

Dumbledore seemed to notice Draco’s presence for the first time and scrunched up his nose in disgust. “What is he doing here?” he asked pointing at him.

“Oh, I’m one of the lads now,” Draco responded puffing up his collar and looking ever so chuffed with himself.

Ron rolled his eyes. “No Draco, you’re not. Hermione is more of a lad than you are.”

Hermione flashed him a dirty glare as Harry’s ire increased even further.

“Shut the fuck up all of you!” he screamed, causing Ron to step back several paces. He turned back to Dumbledore and asked cuttingly “So I presume that since you’re not dead, I didn’t actually die either?”

“Well of course not Harry! Wouldn’t finding out there was a really cosy wizard afterlife undermine most of the narrative themes at play here. What would be the point in killing off half the characters just to then be like ‘oh psyche they’re all fine and probably better off than they were before’? That’s just bad writing!” Sensing that Harry remained unconvinced he continued slightly more apologetically. “Look Harry, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I thought you’d figure it out anyway, why would heaven be in Kings Cross Station that doesn’t make any sense, it’s on the Piccadilly Line and fuck the Piccadilly Line! Now if I’d said we were at Canary Wharf or… or”

“Westminster?” suggested Ron.

“Yeh or Westminster, really anywhere on the Jubilee Line then fair enough! Also, you have to think of the implications. If that had been real, and there was a wizard heaven then you’d know that Sirius Black, Lupin, your parents and everyone else you know who’s died were all completely fine and basically still alive. And not only that but you’d be able to see them again someday when you yourself die.”

“Yes and I think you can guess why lying about that might have pissed me off just a little bit.” Harry spat out.

Dumbledore had the nounce to at least look a bit sheepish as he defended himself “Well if it helps I don’t know that there isn't a wizard heaven.”

“So, Professor Dumbledore,” Draco interrupted, oblivious to Harry’s distress and thoroughly bored of the serious conversation. “What’s all this I hear about you and Rumbleroar?”

Dumbledore smiled and winked, also glad of the change of topic. “Well let’s just say I’ve been cleaning a lot of fur out of a lot of places the past few months if you know what I’m saying.”

“Woah, woah, woah, woah, woah” Ron said with a mixture of horror and awe “You fucked a lion?”

“Yes lads did you hear that,” added Draco “Our Headmaster Dumbledore fucked a lion, all hail Dumbledore the lionfucker!”

“Shut up Draco you little shit. I did not fuck a lion, we made love and let me tell you he has done things with his tail that Severus Snape could only ever dream of.”

“Can you both please just shut the fuck up!!” Harry screamed across them “So does this mean I’m still a Horcrux? Is Voldemort still alive?”

“Nah” Dumbledore waved him down nonchalantly.

“But how? The Horcrux seeking medallion said I was the last Horcrux, so if I didn’t die then Voldemort must still be alive surely?”

“All that Horcrux, elder wand stuff was always a bit soft around the edges anyway, so let’s just say it had something to do with love and call it a day.”

Harry’s grip on his wand softened. “Yeah, I guess that sort of makes sense.” While Ron and Draco also seemed to accept this answer, Hermione didn’t see how it could make any less sense but she thought the better of pointing that out.

“There we go,” Dumbldore said, gently pushing Harry’s wand down further.

“But just to be clear,” continued Harry, “all the Horcruxes are gone and Voldemort’s definitely dead right? You’re not lying about that one?”

Dumbledore winced guiltily “Well…”

“Well fucking what?!”

“Well… there is still the diary, but I left that one out on purpose.” Harry looked about close to committing bloody murder as he tried to raise his wand again but found that Dumbledore was now gripping it tightly.

“My bedroom was next to Professor Quirrell’s and what I overheard between the two of them moved me, and also a little bit aroused me, so I decided to leave one Horcrux intact to tie him to life for a bit longer so he would have the chance to make up with Quirrell and re-attach himself to his soul. But I’m sure that’s happened by now so if you ever do come across it, you’re good to destroy it.”

“I’m sorry, so there’s still a Horcrux?” Harry asked.

“Technically yes, but I’m positive you’ll never have to worry about it. What?” he added seeing their faces, “I did the right thing for once!”

“You know what this feels like?” Harry said coldly “This feels like in Spiderman when Tony Stark won’t trust Peter Parker enough to help him out or tell him what’s going on, but still expects him to run around and do everything for him."

Dumbledore looked confused "Huh? What are you talking about, Iron Man's not in Spiderman?"

"Yes he is, he's in like all of the Tom Holland movies."

"Who the fuck is Tom Holland?” Realisation struck Dumbledore as he felt himself go through all five of the stages of grief. “Aw man don't tell me they recast spiderman again!"

"Yeh I know,” agreed Ron, “he is pretty good although nowhere near as good as Chris Allen, who is the best spiderman."

“He’s agile as hell,” Dumbledore agreed.

Harry rolled his eyes as Ron’s joviality continued to irrationally gnaw away at what little patience he had left.

“No, you know what,” Harry said, “this is nothing like Spiderman, because at least in Endgame, Tony Stark actually died instead of just pretending to be dead and fucking off to Mars.”

“Spoilers,” Dumbledore mumbled sheepishly.

“Oh look, what is this hideous creature?” Ron asked, breaking the frosty silence that emerged between Harry and Dumbledore, as he picked up a luminous green doll from the bed. The doll had misshapen patchy fur, tentacles where its mouth should be, and two bright yellow eyes that seemed to follow you about the room with unnerving precision. “You’re an ugly little fucker aren’t you,” Ron said, flicking its mouth tentacles.

Draco walked over and took the doll from him and cradled it in his arms like a new-born babe.

“I think he’s quite cute,” he commented, as he rocked it from side to side.

“Thank you Draco,” said Dumbledore, “Rumby is always so rude to him.”

“What’s his name?” Draco asked as he continued to rock its twisted body from side to side.

“The tag said ‘tickle me wiggy’ or something but that sounds weird as fuck so I just call him Mr Tickles.”

“Dumbledore,” Hermione asked, keen to capitalise on the change of subject to de-escalate away from Harry’s provocation, “I wanted to ask you about Professor Hidgens.”

“I thought you were going to shut up about him?” Harry growled.

She flashed him an angry look and continued. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but there’s a lot of weird stuff going on at the moment. Like at the welcome feast, do you remember Professor Hidgens sang that song about how we were all in danger, and somehow he knew you were still alive, but since then he’s been impossible to track down, it’s almost like he’s hiding from us. I also have a lot of serious questions about Professor Cornwallis’s murder, I don’t think Lord Voldewarthog was real, and if he was, I just don’t see how he could have been responsible. Has Rumbleroar said anything to you about any of this?”

Dumbledore wrinkled his nose in confusion, “You want to talk to me about fucking lobsters?!” Hermione began to protest before Dumbledore shot her back down saying “Granger, you’ve just found out I’m still alive after thinking I was dead for a year and you want to talk to me about fucking lobsters?”

“Yeah, Herman!” Ron joined in, eager to pile in on Hermione “You know, you haven’t shut up about that stupid Professor Hidgens since we got here, it’s like you’re in love with him.” Fear suddenly filled his eyes as he hastily turned to the side and whispered in a panic “Oh my god you’re in love with him.”

Hermione looked incredulous “Ron what the fuck?”

“Why? Is it so ridiculous?” he asked, panic clouding his thoughts.

“Yes Ron it is fucking ridiculous,” she snapped back “I am not in love with Professor Hidgens I’m just the only one who seems to be paying even the slightest bit of attention around here. I don’t know if you have noticed, Ronald Weasley, but people have a habit of trying to kill us, so excuse me for being a little bit suspicious. And if anything, you’re the one that’s in love with him, I’ve heard the way you talk about his hips.”

“Yeh well-” Ron started to argue back before he was cut off by Harry who had been simmering with silent rage throughout this entire exchanged and finally exploded.

“Can you two stop with this bullshit already! Ron, Hermione’s right can you just fucking grow up and stop overreacting to every stupid thing!”

Ron looked as if he just been shot, as he abruptly stopped talking and looked at Harry in shock with tears starting to form in his eyes. He stuttered a few times before timidly asking “What are you saying?”

“I’m just saying for fuck’s sake, can you please shut the fuck up about Hermione for literally two seconds!”

Malfoy, who took offense on Ron’s behalf, walked straight up to Harry, and put his hand in his face, as he chimed in optimistically “No, you do not get to talk to my good friend Ronald like that.”

“Piss off Malfoy he doesn’t even like you,” retorted Harry.

“No, you know what he’s right,” said Ron, at long last finding his voice “Since clearly neither of you two want me around, I guess I’ll just go start my own gang. Maybe Larry Smotter’s looking for a sidekick.”

“Oh don’t you fucking-,” Harry began

“Come on Draco, we’re leaving,” he said grabbing him by the arm and pulling him out the door.

Harry cleared his throat to avoid choking on a sob, already feeling guilty for taking his anger out on his best friend. “Right whatever,” he said, turning back to Dumbledore as he continued in a more morose tone “You at least owe me a fucking explanation about why you faked your own death, lied to us and moved to Mars to fuck a lion.”

“Well I think you might have just answered your own question there,” Dumbledore began to joke, but was shot down by Harry’s withering glare. He looked at the floor and gave a long drawn out sigh before finally answering the question. “It was Severus” he said.

“Snape?” Harry laughed hysterically “Don’t you dare fucking tell me he’s still alive too.”

At that Dumbledore started to cry, leaving Harry and Hermione to look around utterly bewildered. “No Harry,” he choked out solemnly, “Severus Snape is dead.” Dumbledore picked up the hideous doll Mr Tickles and buried his mouth into its fur as he breathed deeply in and out to calm himself. As he did Harry could have sworn that its eyes glowed brighter with each sobbing exhale.

Hermione sat down next to him and took the doll from him, holding it out at arm’s length as she deposited it at the other end of the bed as though it were an unexploded bomb.

“Dumbledore what’s going on?” she asked.

“You want to know why I faked my death?” Dumbledore continued sadly, as Harry’s murderous glare began to soften “It’s because I couldn’t face the fact that the man I loved had tried to kill me, I couldn’t face any of you and most importantly I couldn’t face myself. And if that makes me a coward then I guess I'm a fucking coward.”

Harry looked confused “You and Professor Snape?”

“Yeh, you got a problem? I loved him. I loved him more than you could ever understand.”

Harry began to feel pang bit of sympathy for Dumbledore, who had tears starting to well in his puppy dog eyes. “Well why don’t you just get with Professor Snake, the Pigfarts potion master? he’s basically the same?”

“Snake?” Dumbledore considered for a minute “Nah I'm not seeing it. you see he has a snake glued on his head and Severus never had that.”

"Yeh I also heard he supports Millwall anyway" agreed Harry.

"What a cunt," Dumbledore shook his head disapprovingly.

“Also, I’m pretty sure him and Professor Shagrid are fucking,” added Hermione.

Dumbledore nodded. “Yeh that would make sense.” He sighed again and reached for Mr Tickles.

“Granger, what you were saying earlier about weird stuff going on? Do you think you might know something that could help me?”

“I don’t know, why, do you know something?” she asked eagerly.

Dumbledore took a deep breath in as he said “Okay well, here goes.” He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, “I have been hallucinating Severus Snape.”

“What do you mean?” asked Hermione.

“I mean I sometimes see him,” Dumbledore answered reluctantly “it’s always when I’m alone, and he comes to me and says…” he paused uncertain how much detail to admit “he says really scary things to me, mean things, things Severus would never have said, but he’s there and he’s real and he’s saying them. Rumby says I’m hallucinating, and I know it sounds like I’m just crazy, but would a crazy person do this:” Dumbledore began to do a poor imitation of the robot dance, moving his arms at right angles and making weird robot sound effects.

“Have you ever had anything like this happen to you before?” Hermione asked sympathetically, as Dumbledore’s bizarre dancing wound to a halt.

“No, I don’t think so,” he answered.

Hermione smiled at him sympathetically as even Harry’s feelings towards Dumbledore softened somewhat. “I’m sorry but I don’t see how this could have anything to do with Professor Higdens’ warning, it's probably just a reaction to all the stress of everything you’ve been through lately.”

“I was afraid you’d say that.”

“Well you should try to talk to someone about it, there must be wizard therapists here on Mars, maybe Professor Shagrid can recommend someone” Hermione continued encouragingly.

“Yeh, this isn’t something you should just ignore." Harry added, forcing a sympathetic smile, "Try and find someone who can help you work through whatever this is."

Dumbledore, who was starting to feel better now he’d gotten everything off his chest, smiled warmly and appreciatively at them. “Okay thank you kids, you’re right I should never have been so cowardly,”

As Harry motioned to start to leave, Hermione turned back and asked “Professor, can I ask you one more thing?”

“I’m not a professor anymore Granger, call me Albus,” Dumbledore responded.

“Okay, Albus-”

“I was only joking! I’ll get Rumbleroar to expel you if you call me Albus!”

“Okay Dumbledore-”

“Dumbledore? Dumbledore was my father’s name.”

Hermione groaned with frustration. “Sir!”

“I don’t believe in the monarchy.”

“WHY IS SCARFY HIDING FROM PROFESSOR HIDGENS?!” she belted out in frustration.

“Calm down Granger! Jeez what crawled up your tits and died?” he looked to Harry for support with his mocking of Hermione but was stared down once more. “Although as it happens, I wouldn’t know anything about what that damn scarf’s up to.”

“Yeh Scarfy mentioned something had happened between you two, but I think you should reach out to him. You were always inseparable back on earth, and especially if you’re struggling with your emotional wellbeing right now, I really don’t think it’s a good idea to cut off contact with your closest friends!”

“I thought we were close too. Until the other day when he threatened me with a fucking knife!”

Harry and Hermione waited a second to see whether he was joking. “Wait what?” Hermione asked “Are you sure, that sounds incredibly out of character? Was there any context for this?”

“No there wasn’t, I was just walking along the corridor when I saw him at the other end of it holding a knife. He said ‘I’m gonna fucking cut your throat’ and then started running towards me. I didn’t want to worry Rumby more than I already had with the Snape stuff, so I just told him that we weren’t speaking because we had a stupid fight. I’m sure it was just supposed to be a prank, but it scared the living shit out of me. Literally. I shat myself.”

“But Dumbledore,” said Harry “That doesn’t make any sense, we literally just saw Scarfy and the sorting hat 10 minutes ago, and they’re just as nice and friendly as they always were. There has to be some context to this?”

“Look I know what I saw, okay! So for now I’m just going to stay in this room and hope everything blows over. Anyway, it’s about time you kids should be getting back to bed, especially you Granger, I reckon you’re probably planning on going to class tomorrow you fucking nerd. And Harry I’m sorry if what I did hurt you, I just didn’t think things through. Are we okay?”

He nodded, “Yeh we’re okay,”

“Is okay good?”

“Okay is okay,” Harry answered gruffly as he and Hermione walked off.

Chapter Text

ACT 1 SCENE 9 - WHEN I WAS A YOUNG WARTHOG! AN ORPHAN WARTHOG!

Back on the third floor, Scarfy and the Sorting Hat had finally calmed down from their earlier encounter and begun to settle in for the evening, when they received a most unwelcome knock on the door of their closet.

“Get out of there I know it’s you!” said Professor Hidgens as he rapped furiously on the wardrobe. After receiving no response, he yanked the door wide open, revealing Scarfy and the sorting hat cowering in fear against the far back corner.

“Aha!” cried Hidgens, “I knew Rumbleroar’s announcement would have something to do with you two, you can’t escape from me that easily. Come out of the closet, now!”

“But I did that years ago!” protested Scarfy, as the Sorting Hat huddled up against him.

“In fact you can stay in there, this way I've got you cornered and you won’t get away from me this time you little rascals!”

“Please Professor,” begged the Sorting Hat, “he’s told you everything he knows!”

“I'm not so sure about that. Scarf man, get back on my neck!” Hidgens commanded, as he crudely yanked Scarfy out of the wardrobe.

The Sorting Hat looked on helplessly as his lover was ripped from him, and Scarfy began to plead with the professor.

“We've been over this a million times,” he said, “your sexuality is plain and clear you're 'hopelessly in love with Chad'.”

“Yes, yes I know that!” Hidgens cried, “but is he in love with me?”

“How the fuck am I supposed to know that? I don’t even know who Chad is!” replied Scarfy. “How many times do I have to tell you, I can only read people’s sexual desires if I’m on their neck. Please wizard god stop asking me this.”

“Still playing hard to get I see! Well perhaps I’ll have to force the answer out of you,” responded Professor Hidgens undeterred, as he pulled the scarf right up to his face and glared at it with unhinged eyes.

“Please, I don't even fucking know who Chad is!” Scarfy pleaded.

Tears of regret welled up in Professor Hidgens’ eyes as he wagged his finger at the scarf and hat “Well let me tell you this, he is a thousand times the man you will ever be.”

“Well yes I'm a fucking scarf!”

“Don't talk about yourself like that,” the Sorting Hat said defensively, “you may be a fucking scarf, but you're my fucking scarf.” Scarfy would have blushed were he not always blushing due to the red and orange stripes on his body. The Sorting Hat turned threateningly to Hidgens as he starred him down. “Now I’m warning you, if you harm my Scarfy again-”

“Oh yeh and what are you going to do, you’ve got no arms!”

“I’ll bite your legs off!”

“Monty Python references will only get you so far!” Hidgens retorted before pausing to fully consider what the hat had said. “Wait what do you mean if you harm him again?” he asked.

“I mean if you try to hurt my boyfriend again then I’ll-”

“But I haven’t hurt him yet?” asked Hidgens now very confused. “We’ve only spoken once?”

"That's not true! You've been badgering us since you got here and we know what happened, we know what you did last week. You can try and gaslight us all you like but we remember."

“Oh yeh, and what did I do,” Hidgens asked using air quotes.

“You put him in a washing machine on a 3 hour, high heat spin cycle.”

“Without fabric softener!” Scarfy added as he cowered in fear.

“My lover is many things, but machine washable he is not.”

Hidgens looked puzzled and loosened his grip on Scarfy as he wracked his brain trying to work out what they were talking about. He shook his head. “I don’t remember doing that?”

“Don’t lie to us, don’t do that to me!” protested the scarf.

“No that didn’t happen. Aha!” exclaimed Hidgens, “You’re a liar! Which means you must be lying about Chad. Now come with me you worn out accessories, I’m going to squeeze the truth out of you, whatever it takes. Maybe I will put you in the wash! High spin cycle you say? No! I’m going to put you two in a fucking tumble drier.”

Hidgens cackled maniacally as he seized them both tightly in his hands and took them off stage while they screamed in terror.

“I know you’re upset at Dumbledore but at least he’s still alive, and we know what happened to him,” Hermione said optimistically as a few moments later Harry and Hermione walked out onto the now empty stage midway through conversation.

“Yeh I guess,” Harry grumbled. Truth be told he wasn’t sure how he was feeling towards Dumbledore, finding out that everything he’d learned about the wizard afterlife was a lie had shaken him somewhat, but the last thing he wanted to do about it was have a long chat emotional with Hermione. What he needed and what he wished for more than anything else was for Ron to be here so they could laugh at Malfoy and get up to hijinks together to take his mind off things.

“It is worrying that he’s hallucinating Snape,” Hermione continued, “seeing things is never a good sign, even for wizards but in this case I kind of hope that’s all it is.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked.

“Nothing, there just seem to be a lot of worrying things going on, and it would almost be comforting to think that this one was just Dumbledore’s response to grief.” She paused as she tried to decide whether to voice the latest thing giving her an uneasy feeling in her stomach. “Did you notice his doll?”

“Mr Tickles?”

“Yeh,” answered Hermione. “I don’t know it just gave me the heeby jeebies.”

Harry agreed that the doll had been a little unsettling, but he had just assumed it was a tentacle thing and been happy to leave it at that. He thought about bringing up the strike she was supposed to be on but didn't quite feel like starting an argument with his only other friend. While deep down he knew her concern about these things was probably for good reason, he was content to stay in his blissful denial that anything would go wrong this year, and he knew that if Ron was here he’d feel the same way.

“I feel really bad about what I said to Ron,” Harry said, “I shouldn’t have blown off at him like that.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it,” Hermione replied shirtily as her own frustrations with her boyfriend came to mind. “He’s just being really insecure at the moment, and it’s making him act weird. It’s why he keeps making snide comments at me and blowing up over nothing. But you try and raise this with him, and he just refuses to accept he’s even doing anything. Like earlier by the wardrobe, why was he being like that? It was like he was trying to act,” she paused as she tried to settle on the right word, “emotionally distant? Which is not like him at all.”

Harry stopped in his tracks. “And you did not like that?” he asked with genuine confusion in his voice.

“No I did not like that,” she said turning around to look at him with a growing fury, “Harry Potter what aren’t you telling me?

He fiddled innocently with his hair as he made a mental note to take Sirius’ dating advice with a pinch of salt in future.

“Nothing, it’s just good to know,” he said.

“Harry!” she warned.

“Oh, would you look at that,” he said suddenly walking forwards and brushing past her as Paul Catthews, the cat student from their sex ed class entered the stage from the side door. “It is my good friend Steve.”

Paul, who was carrying a clipboard with a pen dangling down from it and now wore a pair of cat-girl ears to compliment his tail, looked confused by this reception as he wondered who on mars Steve was.

“Paul Matthews,” he corrected.

“Yeh that’s what I said.” Harry put his arm round Paul’s shoulders, keen to put as much distance and between himself and Hermione as possible, who was currently staring daggers at him.

“So, what are you up to,” Harry said glancing at the name at the top of the of the clipboard which was written in a very untidy and difficult to read scrawl. “Pow- P- Pau- Paul.”

"Hi, I'm collecting signatures for a petition against the school musical, we here at the society for the prevention of the proliferation of musical theatre,” he pointed at the badge on his chest, “don’t feel like the themes of Working Boys, or any musical really, are conducive to a harmonious learning environment.”

Harry instantly recoiled, removing his arm from around Paul and brushing himself down as if he’d just touched a biohazard. But while he would rather die than sign a petition against a musical (he was Harry Potter, the original guitar guy!), Hermione grinned menacingly as she realised she’d found the perfect way to get back at Harry for interfering in her love life and generally being a nuisance.

She confidently strutted forwards with a confident smirk and grabbed the clipboard from Paul, all the while keeping her eyes fixed on Harry.

“Hermione don’t do this,” Harry begged, “This is a line in the sand, so help me do not cross it.”

She made a point of taking the pen and clipboard from Paul as slowly and as possible. “What a good and noble cause,” she said slowly and pointedly, "musicals really are stupid, I just don't get why they're singing."

"Exactly, that's what I always say," agreed Paul.

"Hermione, you literally sing all the time! The Coolest Girl? Not Alone? Does "I may be frumpy but I'm super smart" mean nothing to you!" Harry begged, but it was to no avail as she was already signing the petition.

Harry shook his head and growled in distrust, vowing to tell Ron all about this later as she furiously scribbled her name beneath Paul’s own, and handed back the clipboard, the whole time grinning menacingly as she maintained eye contact with Harry.

“I actually have a petition of my own,” she said bringing a piece of paper out of her pocket and unfolding it. Paul immediately looked uncomfortable as he scanned his surroundings for an easy way out of this conversation. He had a troubled history with people trying to get him to sign things on the street that he couldn’t quite remember. Something to do with sea turtles and a la dee dah dah day.

“It’s for the emancipation of house elves from domestic slavery,” she continued. “Did you know that on Earth it’s considered perfectly legal and even normal to enslave sentient creatures?”

“You guys have slavery on Earth?” Paul asked appalled, as he was wrenched back to the present.

“Yeh but it’s fine,” Harry answered, keen to avoid yet another one of Hermione’s annoying lectures on basic rights and dignities.

“Isn’t slavery, like, bad?” Paul asked uncertainly.

“Nah, it’s fine,” Harry murmured glibly.

Hermione shot him an angry look. “Yes, slavery is bad,” she said condescendingly. “It is very obviously extremely bad, but certain wizards,” she glared at Harry again, “don’t seem to be able to get that into their stupid, self-absorbed heads.”

“But best-selling children’s author Gilderoy Lockheart said that house elves actually want to be slaves,” Harry innocently tried to explain, “Like they actually enjoy it.”

“Yes and it would have cost him exactly zero wizard dollars not to have done that. Deciding to create a world in which slavery is ‘good actually’ is the sort of thing that should really make you question the moral principles of any children’s author.”

Paul squinted at the three signatures he could see on the piece of paper. “Who is ‘her my one’?” he asked, looking at the first one.

“Just sign the damn sheet,” Hermione hissed at him.

He turned over the paper in his hands to look at the back, looking unconvinced. “I’m actually already really involved with sea turtles, so I think I’ll give it a pass.” He shook his head and handed it back to her. “See you guys in class,” he added as he walked off stage.

“But don’t you want to save the planet!” Hermione screamed after him. “Piece of shit,” she grumbled in an uncharacteristically menacing tone.

“Wow jeez Hermione, remind me not to get on your bad side.”

Steam seemed to pour out of the sides of Hermione’s head as she turned to Harry and contemplated whether to simply scream at him or if today was in fact the day she was finally going to murder him.

She was, however, prevented from doing either when all of a sudden Larry Smotter ran onto the stage, white as a sheet and with his eyes wide with terror. He went straight up to the pair of them and grabbed onto their clothes with a silent open mouthed scream as he ran around the stage flapping his arms back in forth in panic as if he’d just burned his mouth on a pizza slice.

“Jesus christ, are you not fucking dead!?” Harry practically screamed at him, as he tried to shove him away. “We haven’t seen you since scene three and I was starting to get a bit hopeful!”

Larry completely ignored Harrys comment, and simply uttered a very meak “He’s back.”

“Who’s back? Your bed wetting?” Harry snapped.

“Larry, who’s back?” Hermione asked seriously, as she grabbed a hold of his shoulder.

“Lord Voldewarthog.” Larry answered, as he looked over his shoulder trembling with fear.

“Wait, he's real?” Hermione asked looking around alarmed.

“Please you have to help me!” Larry begged, “I’ve never told anyone this, but I only defeated him by accident last time. I know it may seem hard to believe but,” he looked around to check they were alone before lowering his voice to a stage whisper, “I’m not actually the big superhero everyone thinks I am!”

“Yeah no fucking shit” Harry said rolling his eyes.

“I spent ages trying to track him down, I wanted to stop him! But in the end he found me. I told everyone that I bravely fought him off, but I- I actually just got lucky,” he explained, looking at the floor in shame. “One day when I was eating my breakfast, it was uh two spoons of oatmeal, a packet of nuts and half a banana-“

“Is this going anywhere?” Harry grumbled.

“Yeh, I was eating my breakfast when he tracked me down, and I tried to you know like fight him, I wanted to take him down and protect the school, but I didn't know what to do. I tried to lunge at him but when I did I dropped my banana peel and-”

“Oh god and let me guess he slipped on it and died,” Harry snapped sarcastically.

“No,” continued Larry, “I slipped on it. But I was still carrying the spoon that I’d used for my oatmeal and when I fell it flew into his eye socket and impaled him right through the brain. There was blood everywhere, it was horrifying, but also pretty cool.”

Suddenly a warthog puppet, which was not much larger than a medium sized dog appeared on the stage. All three of them jumped back in fright at the sight of it, with Larry cowering behind Harry and Hermione in fear. The warthog moved slowly, looking innocently around at his surroundings, not at all like the terrifying beast that everyone on Mars from Larry to Rumbleroar had described to them.

Harry walked slowly and cautiously towards the warthog as Larry tried to cry out in protest but found he couldn’t as his voice failed him. When Harry had walked right up to the warthog, which had taken a few curious paces towards him in turn, he carefully reached out his hand which the warthog nuzzled its head up against, allowing Harry to pet it as if it were a house cat. Clearly enjoying this the warthog seemed to almost purr as it smiled and tilted its head towards Harry.

“Get away from it,” Larry warned.

Satisfied that there was nothing to be concerned about here Harry walked back to Larry and Hermione.

“Oh, come on Larry, that’s clearly just a completely normal animal.” He implored, “Can you please piss off and stop wasting our time.”

“But I killed you!” Larry said to the warthog, completely ignoring Harry. “You died, I saw your body!”

The warthog continued to stare blankly at them as it made some pig-like grunts.

“Well then this is clearly just a different fucking warthog!” exclaimed Harry.

“No it’s not. Look, it has tusks!” said Larry in terror, pointing at the hog’s very unremarkable looking tusks.

“ALL WARTHOGS HAVE TUSKS!!” Harry screamed.

“I swear I’ll put a stop to you this time,” Larry continued getting even more shrill, as he put on a brave face and addressed the pig. “You will not hurt anyone else at this school. I will stop you, even if it’s the last thing I ever do.”

The warthog walked around in circles a bit but otherwise showed no signs of so much as comprehending what Larry was saying. Smoke began to rise up from around the warthog to create an air of tension and mystery.

“This is the last thing I’ll ever do!” Larry screamed as he ran round once more to hide behind Hermione's skirt.

“Okay no,” said Harry pointing at the swirling smoke “This does not deserve a fucking smoke machine. This is absolutely the worst use of a smoke machine I have ever seen in my life.”

Hermione, who was in general more patient than Harry walked up to Larry and tapped him on the shoulder. “Larry,” she said gently, “I really do think Harry’s right, I think that might just be a regular warthog. I… I don’t even think it can talk.”

The warthog continued to strut round in circles making vague grunting noises as if to confirm what Hermione was saying.

“No, it’s him! Count the legs, he has four, it must be him.”

“Fucking Rumbleroar has four legs Larry, that doesn’t make him the dark lord. And you know what, I really don’t think your stupid Lord Voldewarthog ever existed either, I think you just killed some poor innocent pig. What kind of a name is Lord Voldewarthog anyway, it sounds like an off-brand action figure.”

“Well perhaps whoever created all these animal clones couldn’t think of anything better!” Larry answered.

“I’m sorry did you just say clones?” Hermione asked, but she did not receive an answer as at that moment the warthog began to trot slowly towards them, causing Larry to scream in fright and run round to take cover behind Harry and Hermione.

“Why is it that when someone says something important, they always get distracted,” grumbled Hermione. “Harry this is stupid let’s just get out of here, this smoke’s playing havoc with my asthma.”

They walked off as Larry screamed “Please, no don’t leave me” behind him. Seeing that his pleas had fallen on deaf ears, and that he was alone with his supposed arch-nemesis, he turned to face the hog with fists up in a defensive stance. “Okay, it looks like it’s just you and me now. Let’s finish this the way we started, together.”

At that the warthog just decided to turn and walk calmly off stage leaving Larry alone and quaking in fright.

Chapter Text

ACT 1 SCENE 10 - HE'S A COMING. WHO'S A COMING?

“He’s such a fucking asshole,” Harry exclaimed with genuine fury in his voice as he and Hermione walked into a new, empty room that was blessedly free from both smoke and Larry Smotter. “You know I heard that he cries in the choir room and his mom still buys his trousers.”

“I get it he’s annoying,” Hermione replied in exasperation. Harry had spent the entire afternoon complaining about him and she was keen for it to come to an end. “But I don’t understand why you care so much. I’ve never seen you hate anyone like this, I don’t even think you hated Voldemort this much. It’s almost like you’re obsessed with him.”

“Obsessed with him?!” Harry protested pathetically. “Nu-uh you’re the one who’s obsessed with him! Haha, get a load of you, you’re obsessed with Larry Smotter!”

“Look you’re clearly still upset about Dumbledore and-”

“Psst I’m not upset, what are you talking about,” Harry answered, really keen for this psycho-analysis not to go any further.

“And,” she continued, steam-rolling over his feeble defences “you’re insecure and worried people will associate you with Larry and won’t think you’re cool anymore, so you’re over-compensating.”

“How is this on me?” Harry asked. “I’m not the stupid little man child crying over a pig.”

“Don’t make me say it!”

Harry gasped, “You wouldn’t dare!”

Hermione stopped in her tracks and put her hand in his face, “Drop the attitude Harry Potter, you are acting like Garfield on a Monday.”

As they continued to bicker, Rumbleroar walked out, drenched in a cold sweat and looking much the worse for wear as he breathed heavily into a paper bag. He leaned against the door post as he gasped into the bag, alternating it back and forth between his own human lips and the snout of the small cuddly toy lion that was affixed to the top of his head.

Harry who was facing with his front to Rumbleroar noticed this odd sight and flashed him a confused glance but decided to ignore it and continue with his conversation.

“Anyway,” continued Harry, “all I’m saying is-“

Hermione turned around as Rumbleroar gave a particularly loud pant.

“Professor!” she squealed when she noticed the state he was in, running straight over to see if he was okay. Harry reluctantly followed after her. “Are you okay?”

“Students, I have just heard the most…the most terrible news,” he said, still breathing heavily into the bag as he allowed Hermione to help him over to a bench. “I’m sorry to tell you this… but Lord Volde…warthog has… has returned. Lartholomew Smotter… bore witness to… to it.”

“Professor, calm down, it’s okay,” Hermione began, patting him reassuringly on the shoulder as she guided him through controlled breaths, which seemed to put him slightly more at ease.

“Everything’s okay,” she continued once he had recovered himself enough to breathe without the bag, “we were there too.”

“You also bore witness to his return?”

“Yes, whatever, look, it’s not real. Professor, we saw this Lord Voldewarthog but it’s just a normal pig, maybe a little bit bigger and with tusks, but he seemed perfectly friendly even.”

“Perfectly friendly?!” he declared angrily, “He is the most powerful and most evil pig ever to have lived. Lord Voldewarthog is a terrible beast with enormous claws and perfectly friendly he is not! No, I have instructed Professor McGonnagills to ready our defences, Pigfarts must brace itself for attack. But don’t worry students, us teachers are more than capable of handling this sort of thing I’m sure, it’s what we’re trained for after all. At least I imagine we must have been trained at some point. I’ve sent a wizard email to Professor Shagrid but bless him I’m not sure if he’ll be able to read it. I’ll get Professor Snake to help him with that. And then once I’ve done all that I’ll need to... talk to Professor Flitwing about the... about the... canon balls. Oh, but there’s so little time and-“

“Professor please calm down you’re rambling,” Hermione instructed him gently as his panic began to run away from himself again.

He nodded at her instruction as he calmed himself down again. “I’m sorry Miss Granger, if I’d known this would happen again I certainly wouldn’t have suggested we start up the exchange program so soon, I wouldn’t want you to think Mars is always like this. And there was of course no way for whoever left that mysterious note on my desk to know this would happen, although-” he stopped and took some slow breaths as he caught a telling look from Hermione and realised he was running away from himself again. “But none of you need worry, we’ve been through this once before and so we shall persevere.”

He began to sing ‘Well Meet Again’ by Vera Lyn as he drew the sign of the cross frantically on his body.

“Okay, okay calm down,” Hermione tried to reassure him as she grabbed the bag and put it to his lips again, in part to help relax him and in part to stop the singing.

“Rumbleroar,” Harry began sympathetically, “please calm down, there’s nothing to worry about. There is no Voldewarthog and there probably never was. There was a Lord Voldemort, you know he was actually evil and scary, but I killed him, HP killed him, so there's nothing to worry about and you’re welcome.”

“Harry I am really not sure this is helping,” Hermione muttered. “Rumbleroar please,” she begged, “we saw him, it. What Larry saw was just a normal animal.”

“Are you trying to tell me that my good friend Professor Cornwallis was killed by a ‘normal animal’?”

“No, I think something else killed Professor Cornwallis and I don’t know what but I think Professor Hidgens might.”

“Henry?” Rumbleroar asked. “What does he have to do with all this?”

“I don’t know but I’d like to find that out. We’ve been trying to talk to him since we arrived but it’s almost like he’s avoiding us.”

“Professor Hidgens is extremely busy with the school musical.”

“Yeh, that’s what we need to speak to him about,” explained Harry.

Hermione made a sound that was somewhere between a yelp and a growl as she stared at Harry with a ferocity that was as if she was willing him to burst into flames.

“I know this is scary but denial won’t help anyone," Rumbleroar said, oblivious to Hermione's frustration, "I better be off now, things to-“ he continued to pant as he levered himself up and blinked rapidly, “things to do, people to, do let me know if you find him though, I wonder if there’s some sort of musical defence we may be able to put up, or a flashmob, anything that we can do to,” he trailed off into a mumble, “stop the warthog.” as he left the stage.

They heard the sound of the door shutting behind him followed by a yelp of pain as he managed to trap his tail in the door on his way out. "Motherfucker," he muttered as he freed himself and ran off.

Harry shook his head. He knew his annoyance at how seriously everyone seemed to be taking Larry and the warthog was entirely irrational, but it was an annoyance that had been eating away at him since they'd arrived. He knew that Hermione would take his continued reaction as further evidence that he was insecure but that to him that didn't make any sense. He was Harry freaking Potter and to him the idea that he could feel threatened or intimidated by someone as pathetic as Larry Smotter seemed laughable.

“What?” Harry asked when he noticed that Hermione was still staring at him with a quietly simmering rage.

“Harry, please think this through,” Hermione implored, grabbing his arms in frustration.

“Hermione calm down,” Harry said with genuine empathy in his voice as he broke free from her grip and patted her on the shoulder. What had happened with Ron was giving him a renewed sense of concern that he needed to not push away his friends. “I know you like to worry about these things but we’ve clearly just seen with our own eyes that Lord Voldewarthog isn’t real. I get you’re concerned but surely now we know there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Yes, but if Lord Voldewarthog isn’t real then who did kill Professor Cornwallis?”

Harry paused as the implications finally dawned on him.

“Oh shit!” he exclaimed.

“Oh shit indeed,” she answered, “So what if something else, something more sinister is going on? And where the hell is Ron?”

Chapter Text

ACT 1 SCENE 11 - THERE ARE MONSTERS AND THERE ARE MEN

While the rest of the school were busy fretting over the return of the dreaded Lord Voldewarthog, Ron was sitting with Draco Malfoy in the empty classroom he had run to after walking out on his friends earlier. As Draco sat by his side doing his best to console him, Ron felt lost in an endless sea of fears and worry. As far as he saw things, both Harry and Hermione, his best friends in the entire world and the only two people he had ever truly felt like he mattered to had rejected him. And worse still was knowing it was his own fault, if he had been better, or cooler or just less himself then maybe things would be different. But he wasn’t and they weren’t, and now he was left alone to drown in self-pity and despair.

“How have things ended up like this?” He began to moan, grateful that at the very least Draco had not yet abandoned him. “Nobody likes me. Hermione would clearly rather be with literally anyone else on this planet than me and Harry just finds me annoying. You heard what he said to me earlier, he’s off trying to do his cool guy tortured hero shit and I’m just there in the corner cramping his style. God I’m worse than Cedric!” he declared in disbelief at the realisation of how low he had truly fallen. “You know Draco I sometimes feel like you’re my only real friend, and I don’t even fucking like you,” he added as he dissolved into sobs and Draco rubbed his back reassuringly, although the irritated expression on his face suggested he’d rather be doing anything else right now.

“Cheer up old chap,” Draco said, “when I feel this way, I always think back on some good advice my father used to give me ‘Drahco,’ he would say ‘when you’re feeling down and like the whole world is out to get you: just grow up, because nobody cares.’”

Ron nodded and smiled sincerely. “Thanks Malfoy that actually really makes me feel a lot better. And you know what, who cares if Hermione doesn’t like me, or Harry,” he added, “or Seamus or Dean, or Dumbledore or Shagrid, or Professor Snake, in fact it doesn’t matter if no one likes me, that’s okay I can just be alone forever.” He tried to look confident and brave in his pronouncement but was betrayed by a wobble in his lower lip and tears welling in his eyes. “So maybe,” he continued trying to stifle down a voice crack, “from now I just need to make my own way. When I get back to Earth I’ll drop out of Hogwarts and go live with muggles, and that way none of you will have to put up with me anymore.”

Draco continued to rub his back reassuringly but looked increasingly uncomfortable with Ron’s catastrophising which was beginning to run wild and take on a life of its own.

“Ugh but then the muggles will realise they hate me too!” Ron cried out in despair as he bit down on his fist and breathed heavily for a bit. “But that’s okay,” he continued, recovering himself, “I don’t need anyone else anymore, so when they kick me out I can just go live by myself in the woods, and make all the food I need with magic, and maybe I’ll be able to make friends with some local birds.” Draco smiled, pleased that Ron finally seemed to have come to some positive conclusion, until he started sobbing again and cried out.

“And then the birds will realise they hate me too! And they’ll peck out my eyeballs leaving me to feel my way around with bloody, infected holes where my eyes once were. But that’s okay,” he continued, regaining some composure “I’ll just have to go somewhere where there are no birds, like an underground cave. It’ll be too dark to see anything but that won’t matter because I’ll be blind anyway, and I can just transfigure rocks into food and talk to cave paintings for company. Just me and some rocks covered in shit for the rest of eternity.”

Ron paused for a while, his heavy breathing coming to a calm, before panic overwhelmed him once more “But then I’ll stumble into a colony of bats that live in the cave, and accidentally eat one of them thinking it’s a rock. And then I'll get wizard covid from eating the bat. I’ll almost die of it and then decide to go to hospital like a stupid, selfish, stupid idiot, where I’ll spread it to the staff and create a whole new pandemic that kills millions of people, and then I’ll be exiled by the WHO for crimes against humanity. But you know what, that’s okay I can just go live out my days at the bottom of the ocean, where international law doesn’t apply, with nothing but a bubble head charm, no eyes, and a litany of severe long term health complications to keep me company, and you know what that’s fine, I’m okay with that.”

As Ron’s imagination worked overtime trying to think of a way things could get worse than living alone at the bottom of the ocean, a sinister music softly began to play.

“What’s that?” Draco asked.

“I probably left my Spotify on,” Ron answered. “And I bet I forgot to connect to Wifi so I’ll be burning through my data, and I don’t even want to know how expensive roaming on Mars is.”

Ron tried return to his slump but the music only increased in volume until it became impossible to ignore. Minor root, augmented fifth, major third and augmented root played in quick succession as the lighting slowly dimmed. Suddenly the music stopped and a hollow, bodiless voice rang out from somewhere off stage.

"Hello there, children,” said the voice. It was sinister and chilling sound that seemed to come from a thousand directions at once.

"What was that?" Draco asked, now looking a little frightened.

“Oh great and I probably left the TV on too,” Ron declared, “now everyone’s going to be mad at me and-“

Draco motioned for him to be quiet as the mysterious voice chuckled before speaking once more, this time with a creepy melodic lilt. "Do you want to play with me my lovely boys, my lovely boys."

"I think it’s coming from the walls," Draco said as he stood up and looked around the room, listening carefully by the curtains.

“Do you want some candy my lovely boys, my lovely boys,” the voice continued, getting louder and more grating with each word it spoke.

"It’s probably just a basilisk or something," Ron brushed it off, “anyway what I was saying is-”

"No, it can't be,” Malfoy interrupted, “My parsletongue isn't that good."

Suddenly the lights went completely out across the stage, plunging Ron and Draco into total darkness.

“Okay what was that?” Draco asked, his voice now trembling in the darkness.

“Someone’s probably just leaned on the light switch backstage. Lauren was that you?!” Ron asked, but the answer he received was not from a friend backstage but rather from the mysterious voice again.

"I am not a Basilisk,” it explained, “I am a boggart."

"Oh boggarts,” Ron nodded in understanding “yeh they're monsters that transform into whatever you're most scared of or something - I remember Professor Lupin tried to teach us about them but he had to scrap the whole lesson when it turned into a sexual harassment suit from Cho Chang."

"Quite,” said the boggart, “although I very much doubt that I’m like any boggart you have encountered before. My name is Bogsy, and I am so much more than some silly parlour gimmick." It laughed before continuing, "But you are correct Ron Weasley, boggarts like myself can transform into anything that scares you from a bad dream to your darkest nightmare. We are in many ways, the physical embodiment of fear itself. But I am not like others of my kind, you could say I’m built different.”

"Okay that’s weird,” Ron said beginning to feel quite uneasy, "we're just gonna go now, but you have fun with that though."

Ron and Draco began to walk off stage, keen to avoid being involved with whatever was going on here, but as soon as they began to move ropes appeared around their wrists and ankles, forcing them back into their seats. When the lights came back up they were tied down firmly, and while Ron tried to struggle against his bonds there was no use. Wherever they had come from, however these restraints had managed to magically appear they were very much real and they were trapped. Ron began to feel a familiar sense of panic that he hadn’t felt since Voldemort, but even still it was different. Back then he’d been with Harry and Hermione, on whom he knew he could always count to figure something and save the day. But he didn’t have them now. Now he was completely and utterly alone. Well apart from Draco but that didn’t really count.

“That's better, now you're not going to get distracted,” Bogsy continued. “I’ve been causing quite a bit of mischief on Pigfarts lately with my powers you see. Draco you may recall that for the past few weeks your friend Larry Smotter has been haunted by mysterious warthog footprints.”

Draco sighed, “Yes but as I’ve told him a thousand times, he’s just imagining things, there never were any footprints.”

Bogsy laughed, “And you were quite correct, there never were any footprints, it was just me playing my little tricks. In fact, that warthog has gotten quite a lot of credit for my handiwork. The death of poor old Professor Cornwallis for instance, that one was mine too. But soon there will be no more opportunities for stolen valour, soon everyone will know who I am!” he cackled again, but this time the sound seemed to pour out from different directions as it echoed around the stage. Ron looked around him trying to follow the voice to see if he could work out where it was coming from, but still no luck.

“For batty old Professor Hidgens,” continued Bogsy, “who’s spent his whole life running away from the apocalypse, I’ve been transforming into samples of the Lord Pokotho’s semen hiding at the back of his sock drawer. Yes I’ve been responsible for causing quite a bit of mayhem here at Pigfarts, all in the name of fear of course, but what should I do to scare you two? Adults are easy, they’ve been worn down and knocked around by life so much that they can’t help but wear their scars on their sleeves, but children are more interesting. Children have such vivid imaginations but never for the things that truly count. They always think they’re scared of silly things like clowns and bad grades instead of, oh I don’t know, slow and painful death by chainsaw. Now I wonder what silly little things do you two think you’re scared of?”

Neither Ron nor Draco answered, instead they both sat there with their mouths firmly shut, hoping that if they didn’t give it anything to go on it would have no choice but to leave them be.

“I asked a question!” Bogsy roared as the lights flickered and both Ron and Draco were jostled roughly in their chairs. All of Ron's earlier insecurities were forgotten as he prayed into the void that his friends would somehow realise he was missing and come and rescue him. Trying to keep a level head, he asked himself what they would do in this situation, but through the fog and the panic he could call nothing to mind.

 “When I answer a question I expect you to answer it,” Bogsy growled as the lights came back up, “now, what are you two afraid of?”

 “Ghouls,” said Ron, “The potty,” said Draco.

Bogsy gave a sinister chuckle. "That wasn’t so hard was it, although I’m afraid it’s nil points all around. No, neither of those are your biggest concerns.”

While Bogsy continued speaking, it was as if Ron’s unvoiced prayers were answered as Harry and Hermione quietly shuffled onto the stage, firmly hidden under the invisibility cloak. From underneath the small orange blanket that was draped over their heads and shoulders they held back and observed the scene before them, waiting to make their first move.

“Now you, Ronald Weasley, you think your biggest fear is Hermione Granger breaking up with you, or worse! Leaving you for Draco Malfoy. But I'm going to encourage you to think a little more creatively about things.”

Hermione began to shuffle backwards a little from under the invisibility cloak as she heard her own name in Bogsy’s threatening snarl.

“How about Hermione having her hands chopped into little, tiny cubes,” he continued, as Harry and Hermione gripped the edges of the invisibility cloak as tightly as possible. “Tiny cubes that you were then forced to eat while she looked on screaming, does that scare you more? And for that matter, how about if I chopped you up into cubes now that has to scare you more, that would really, really hurt."

Bogsy audibly rolled his eyes as he changed tone. "Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, do you think that just because you’re wearing that silly cloak, I can't see you?"

Harry and Hermione gasped as they backed up, slowly removing the invisibility cloak, and frantically scanning around for any possible means of escape.

“Harry! Hermione!” Ron cried out, feeling happier than ever to see them, as the prospect of a rescue beckoned. Hermione softly smiled at him and he knew everything would be okay. Now they were together there was nothing they couldn’t do. With Hermione's intelligence, Harry's bravery, Ron's loyalty and Draco's also being there they had defeated far scarier opponents than this.

“How could you see us?” Harry asked. Ron felt instantly calm upon hearing the confidence in his voice.

"Harry Potter, I am one of the most powerful magical beings in the galaxy.” He paused. “Also, it’s bright orange and barely covers your shoulders. But welcome in one and all, the more the merrier I always say, come take a seat.” Harry and Hermione were forced roughly onto another set of chairs next to the others as if moved there by an invisible hand, while ropes sprung up to bind their hands and feet.

“Ron, I’m so sorry about what I said earlier, I didn’t mean to take my anger out on you like that.” Harry whispered across to Ron before he was magically thrust backwards against his seat.

“Silence!” said the voice.

“It’s okay,” Ron answered, also in a stage whisper, “I’m sorry too. How did you two find me?”

Harry struggled hard against his bonds, trying to find some give in them or a way to slip his hands through. “It’s a long story, basically there was this warthog and-,” Bogsy shoved him backwards again, cutting his explanation off.

“I said silence!” continued the voice.

“I’ll explain later.”

Ron nodded. Later, once they’d gotten out of here.

“Now what about you Harry Potter,” Bogsy continued, spitting out his name with venom, “what scares you the most?"

"I don't know, but I'm not scared of you!" Harry answered defiantly.

A spine chilling laugh reverberated throughout the whole room. “Of course, you're scared of me, I am the definition of fear - every single person who has ever lived is scared of me. If you’re scared of anything you’re scared of me. Now let's start by asking what do you think you're afraid of?"

"I don’t know probably zombies or something.”

“Wrong!” Bogsy bellowed with such force that they were pushed back further against their seats. “I think your biggest fear is being a disappointment, letting down the people that thought you were cool. Yes, I think you fear rejection from your friends.”

Ron instantly leaped to his defence, feeling invincible “Well good luck there because we are a team. And me, Harry and Hermione,

“And me,” Draco added pathetically.

“Yeh fuck it and Draco too will stick by each other’s sides no matter what happens.”

“Weren’t you talking about wanting to run away and live with bats not 5 minutes ago?” Draco muttered, as Ron mouthed for him to shut up.

“Really?” Bogsy asked, “you’ll stick by each other’s side whatever happens? I somehow find that hard to believe, so here’s an idea, why don’t we put that theory to the test. Ronald Weasley, tonight I’m going to kill one of you friends, and you, you lucky boy, get to pick which one.”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Harry said, “Pick Draco, do us all a favour.”

“Yeh he’s right,” Ron said nonchalantly, “I pick Draco.”

Draco nodded in acceptance of his fate.

“Yes very amusing,” said Bogsy, “but no you must pick either Harry or Hermione.”

“No, I can’t do that,” Ron begged, “I- I refuse.”

“In which case I guess I’ll just have to kill them both.”

The lights began to pulse up and down again as Harry and Hermione began to writhe in their chairs as if magically moved to do so.

“No wait!” Ron cried out. “Stop!”

The lights returned to normal and Harry and Hermione stilled. “So, which one are you going to choose to save?” Bogsy asked, “The best friend or the girlfriend? Will it be bros before hoes or bitches before witches? Oh, and to stop you two from engaging in a pathetic battle of ‘oh no pick me’:” Harry and Hermione suddenly began to struggle and make choking noises as out of nowhere gags appeared across their mouths. They let out muffled cries as they tried to talk through them, but no intelligible sound could come out. Ron was truly on his own.

“I’ll give you a countdown,” said Bogsy. “TEN,” he began, his booming voice reverberating like he was the host of a game show. “NINE,”

“Kill me instead,” Ron begged.

“This is incredibly selfish of you don’t you think? Sentencing your only two friends to death just to preserve your pathetic little ego. EIGHT.”

“I– I don’t believe you,” he tried to reason, “you’re not actually going to kill them, they both have plot armour.”

“Well, if you don’t believe I’ll actually kill them then there’s no harm in picking is there? SEVEN.”

He clung desperately to the hope that Harry or Hermione would pull something out of the bag at the last minute.

“SIX,” the countdown continued. Because try as he might he had absolutely nothing.

He looked over at his friends. While neither made a coherent sound, both Harry and Hermione were silently screaming at him with their eyes, as foam frothed around the edges of their mouths from the force of the gags. He had no way of knowing whether they were begging to be saved themselves or begging him to save the other. Wizard god how he wished he could pick Draco.

“FIVE,”

“Please, please stop.”

“Excellent, you’ve made a decision?” Bogsy answered, “So who are you going to choose to save?”

“No I-“

“FOUR,”

He was a wizard, he thought, maybe if he concentrated hard enough he’d be able to stop time. He clenched his fists and gathered every shred of willpower he had left as he stared intensely at a clock on the wall, willing it to freeze.

“THREE,”

No luck.

“TWO,”

Years of irreplaceable memories flashed before his eyes. This couldn’t be it, he couldn’t choose, this couldn’t be the end.

“And one,” Bogsy finished, “Time’s up. What is your answer?”

But he didn’t have an answer, all he had was fear. He looked over and saw Hermione’s eyes which were filled with tears. Her entire head was shaking.

“Hermione,” he said softly. Although his mouth felt dry as sandpaper, he hoped his voice could somehow comfort her.

Bogsy laughed. “You’re choosing to save Hermione?”

Words caught in his throat. “Wait, no I don’t-“

“Are you choosing to save Hermione or kill them both? I know which one I would choose,” he said with a cackle as Hermione once again tensed up in her chair.

“Please don’t kill Hermione,” he muttered reluctantly, trying not to make eye contact with Harry. His best friend who he had just doomed to die and with every word he was hammering the nail in further.

“Now let’s hear what Harry has to say about this.” The gag was wrenched free from Harry’s mouth, but he said nothing. He just stared into the open space before him with his head bowed.

“You’ve died before haven’t you,” the voice continued, this time directed at Harry. “Oh no wait but that was bullshit, a lie made up by someone you trusted. It looks like this is your second betrayal in one day.”

“You have a way out of this right?” Ron muttered to Harry. “Please tell me you two have a way out of this.” He looked around for any signs or props that they could have brought with them as part of a plan, but there was nothing.

“No, Ron we don’t have a way out of this,” Harry muttered slowly and hoarsely as he stayed with his eyes fixed to the floor.

“So Harry,” asked Bogsy excitedly, “how do you feel about your best friend’s decision to kill you?”

“I’m so sorry I-“ Ron began.

“Oh, shut up!” Bogsy said as a gag now appeared in Ron’s mouth. But despite this, and despite the anger and hurt that radiated off of him Harry remained silent as the grave.

“Nothing?” asked Bogsy, “Oh well, that’s a pity, but don’t look too glum because today’s your lucky day. Weasley, you were right, I am a liar,” Ron’s heart lit up. They would all be okay after all, and he would find a way to make it up to Harry, he would make him understand that he hadn’t meant it. “So it looks to me,” continued Bogsy, “like we have Ron who would do anything for his girlfriend, Draco who is also head over heels in love with her, and Harry well I’d imagine you’re feeling a lot warmer towards Hermione than Ron at the moment. So, it does seem to me like a little bit of Granger Danger might be the best way to fuck up three birds with one stone.”

Ron’s heart sank to the bottom of his stomach as Hermione began to struggle hard in her chair.

“Come now,” Bogsy continued, “it’s not so bad, at least you’ll die knowing that your boyfriend was loyal to you until the very end. I’ll remove your gag so we can all hear you scream.” The cloth stuffing in Hermione’s mouth was pulled from Hermione’s throat with a might force. “And I suppose I’ll say Crucio for dramatic affect – CRUCIO!”

Hermione instantly began to writhe around on the chair, as she screamed in agony. Harry, Ron and Draco, all struggled fiercely against the ropes restraining them as they tried to break free to reach her but their efforts proved futile. Every few minutes, her yelps and contortions would begin to calm a little until Bogsy would scream out ‘crucio’ again and they would ratchet straight back up.

Eventually her shaking and straining worked herself free from her restraints and she fell on the floor where she lay limply, too weak to move more beyond the occasional involuntary spasm.

While Harry and Draco, who’s mouths were un-obstructed could cry out in desperation and try and plead with Bogsy, Ron was only able to make horrific guttural noises as tears began to stream down his face. Eventually, Ron managed to push the gag out of his mouth with his tongue and his cries for help became almost louder than Hermione’s own.

“Please stop this,” Ron screamed, “Please I’ll do anything, hurt me instead, please!”

“Make it stop, please!” Hermione whispered, barely able to form words, through the pain that wracked her body.

“Please!” Ron continued, “You’re killing her please stop!”

“Ugh fine, if you insist,” Bogsy agreed. Hermione instantly went limp as the pain stopped, and her screaming was replaced by heavy pants as she stared at the ceiling, with shocked eyes and tears streaming down her face.

“Hermione-” Ron choked out through his own tears, but Hermione remained unresponsive, looking half dead as she with her face down on the stage.

“I’ll give you all a little breather,” said Bogsy “Feel free to talk amongst yourselves, I imagine you have quite a lot to discuss.”

“Hermione, it’s all going to be okay,” Ron continued, not believing his own reassurances but hoping they might do something to soothe her, “we’ll find a way out of here Hermione, okay I love you, you’re going to be okay.”

As Hermione lay there motionless, with only the occasional pitiful whimper escaping from her cracked lips, Ron wished more than anything that the ropes binding him would disappear so he could reach out and comfort her, but they remained as unyielding as ever.

He knew he hadn’t always treated her right; he knew he wasn’t always the best boyfriend, but he also knew with a certainty in his heart that could not be extinguished, that as long as Hermione survived this, they would work things out. But first she had to survive.

“We’ll find a way out of here,” he muttered to her again.

“How exactly are we going to find a way out of here Ron?” Harry snapped. This was the first time he’d looked him properly in the eye since Ron had made his choice, and the dead, haunted stare coming out of his best friend’s face was something he hoped never to see again.

“I- I don’t know,” Ron answered, taken aback by the alien look in Harry’s eye, “But Harry come on, we’ve gotten out of tougher spots than this. There’s no way, remember! You’re the one that sang that song.”

“Right, and now I’m the one that's telling you, that there’s no fucking way out of here. You just had to go and get yourself captured didn’t you and now Hermione’s going to die and we probably both are too!” Harry practically screamed at him.

Ron was temporarily stunned into silence. “I’m sorry I know this is all my fault.”

“You think you can just rely on me to save the day don’t you! ‘Oh let’s run off and get kidnapped, Harry will come save me,’ ‘Oh he can kill Harry, that’s fine, I’m sure Harry will find way out of it, and who cares if he doesn’t anyway’” he said in a mocking imitation of Ron’s voice that thinly masked a voice breaking with real hurt. “I don’t have all the answers Ron. I’m not some superhero that you can just rely on save the day. I’m just a 13 year old kid who thought he had a friend.”

“You still do.”

“No, I don’t, I think you made that perfectly clear earlier.”

“I didn’t mean to pick you, I- I couldn’t let him kill Hermione.”

“Yeh I get it. I know I’ll always come second. I thought that- well it doesn’t matter what I thought.”

“Harry please it’s not like that,” Ron begged, “Yes I love Hermione, I love her so much, but I also love you. Obviously in a different way but at the end of the day it’s the same thing.”

Harry looked away to the floor as Ron prayed that his words could count for something. His whole life Harry was the first person he’d ever felt like he had a real bond with, the first person that he’d felt like he was more than just afterthought to. And Harry was the first person he’d thought he could always count on no matter what.

“We’re not friends anymore,” Harry said slowly and solemnly as tears began to well in his eyes. “If we get out of here, I don’t want to see you or talk to you ever again. We’re done.”

“But what about everything we’ve done together? What about red vines?” He asked, thinking of the first conversation they’d ever had together.

“FUCK RED VINES!” Harry screamed, looking up again so Ron could see the hurt in his eyes.

“You can’t mean that,” Ron answered.

“Yeh well I do, I prefer Twizzlers,” Harry lied. “I don’t need you Ron. I might not be a Hufflepuff but I can definitely find other friends. I don’t need to be carrying your ungrateful ass around all the time.”

“No, we’re going to be okay, we’re going to find a way out of this, just like you did with the guitar and the dragon. Harry that’s it,” Ron exclaimed as inspiration struck, “why don’t you make up a song to get us out of here!” He couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of that before, pretty much every sticky situation they’d gotten out of over the years had involved a musical number at some point.

“Do you have any idea how fucking stupid that sounds?” Harry replied, “What do you think this is, a musical? And what’s your plan to get a guitar? Ooh maybe if you pretend to be really scared of guitars Bogsy will transform into one, and then I can sing you a fucking lullaby,” Harry mocked, twisting the knife further into Ron’s heart.

“Okay maybe not that,” he answered swallowing his pride at Harry’s mocking dismissal, as he looked once more at Hermione’s twitching form. He pushed through the fear and the doubt as he wracked his brain for any memories of other ways they’d gotten out of sticky situations in the past.

“Oh, how about the pizza boxes!” Ron suggested as he remembered the time in first year when Harry was captured by Lucius Malfoy and his backup dancers, and he, Hermione and Draco had successfully rescued him by pretending to be pizza delivery guys and serving Yaxley a ‘knuckle sandwich’ pizza.

“Can you please shut up about food for two fucking minutes!” Harry snapped

Ron was taken aback, how could he have forgotten them saving his life.

“In first year?” Ron began to explain, “when you were being held prisoner by Lucius Malfoy?” Harry still looked confused, “and me and Hermione rescued you by pretending to be pizza delivery guys?”

“Oh yeh, whatever,” Harry said glibly, although there was no recognition in his eyes.

“How have you forgotten that?” Ron asked.

“AND HOW IS THAT YOUR BIGGEST ISSUE RIGHT NOW!” Harry cried choking back tears, “Hermione is dying!”

That shut Ron up.

“Please stop hurting her,” Harry begged into the ether, as he struggled against his restraints. “We’ll do anything!”

Ron nodded in agreement, in this moment he would quite literally do anything to save Hermione and prove himself to Harry.

“Anything?” Bogsy asked in his usual cruel snarl, but in a bizarre and sudden twist of fate, he was not the only person to do so.

For at the exact same time as Bogsy spoke, Harry also opened his mouth to ask “Anything?”, distinctly in Harry’s own voice, but with the exact same menacing tone Bogsy had asked it in.

“What?” Ron asked turning to Harry.

“Anything,” Harry corrected, back to his usual tone, “We’ll do anything to save her.”

“My dears,” Bogsy began, but once again he was not the only one who spoke, as Harry joined in again with his threatening rasp.

Harry’s face seemed to flick back and forth between the familiar yet horrified expression from before and something blank and hollow that Ron did not recognise

“Harry, what’s going on?” he asked in horror.

“Nothing,” Harry tried to answer, but once again his voice was joined by the vicious snarl of Bogsy’s own coming out of the ether.

“Oh well, it looks like the jig is up,” Bogsy said as he let out a truly bone chilling cackle that reverberated throughout the stage. Harry and Hermione’s faces suddenly went blank and their limbs fell floppy at their sides as if they were robots that had just been switched off. "Very good Weasley, you're not as stupid as people think."

Before Ron had time to ask what on Mars was going on, Harry and Hermione stood up and twirled off stage as if they were dissolving away into magic, while Ron and Draco, who now sat alone in the room, looked on in open-mouthed horror not able to comprehend what they had just seen.

“Well, we almost got there,” continued Bogsy, “not a bad effort considering I’ve spent the past fifteen years rotting in a crater on the ass-end of Mars. And boy does it feel good to dance again.”

“I don’t-” Ron stuttered blankly.

“You see they were never really here,” Bogsy explained, “They were simply manifestations of myself transformed into whatever I thought would torment you the most. Do you understand me now? Now are you fucking scared?”

Ron looked like he was about to be sick. “Draco try and get yourself free, we’ve got to get out of here!” he screamed as he struggled against his bonds that remained as immovable as ever.

“Oh, haven’t you worked it out yet?,” asked Bogsy. “Mr Malfoy was never really here either.”

Malfoy disappeared in the same manor Harry and Hermione did, leaving Ron all alone on the empty stage, talking to the bodiless voice.

“I transformed into him earlier so I could lure you into this empty space, and learn a little bit more about you, and may I just say that you are a psychological horror monster’s goldmine. And fortunately, that happens to be my genre.”

Ron’s breath was coming out in heavy gasps now as panic filled him. "If you're going to kill me, why don't you just do it?"

"You misunderstand me Ronald Weasley, I don't want to kill you, I have nothing against you or anyone else on this planet. My only desire is to feed. I am a boggart, I feed off fear and I have grown deeply fucking hungry."

"If you don't want to kill people then why did you kill Professor Cornwallis?"

He cackled again, as Ron looked around the room now feeling the full weight of being well and truly alone. “Very good, you really have been paying attention, but I didn't kill Professor Cornwallis."

“Do you mean the warthog-?”

"I didn't kill Professor Cornwallis,” he snapped back before Ron could finish and give more credit for his handiwork to the warthog, “because he killed himself. Eleanor, his wife of two hundered years, the wife he had stolen from Titty Mitty Dikrat, tragically drowned shortly before he took up the teaching position at Pigfarts. He blamed himself of course, and he was right to do so. He should have known humans couldn't breathe underwater so taking her to come live with him at the bottom of the Columbia River was a very silly idea. Well to cut a long story short, it turns out seeing the screaming corpse of his dearly departed wife at the foot of his bed every morning was just too much for our poor Professor Cornwallis to handle. He died sooner than I would have liked, I was still building my strength back then you see, but I can’t complain too much, he was delicious while he lasted. How I do love lobster thermidor.” Bogsy laughed again, “You know, I’m actually trying out a similar trick with your dear old Headmaster Dumbledore right now as it happens. It turns out there was more going on between him and Professor Snape than met the eye, and what happened last year at Hogwarts seems to have left him with a little bit of a sore spot for me to rub salt into. I’m not sure how long he’ll last but I hope he has a bit more longevity than Cornwallis, I do love edging.”

If Ron had thought he felt defeated before it was nothing to how he felt now. All hope had left him and fear had been replaced by numbness as he realised there was nothing he could do to escape. He was alone and he always had been, and if even Albus Dumbledore, a wizard far awesomer and sexier than he had fallen foul to this creature’s machinations then there was no hope for him. He understood now he would never leave this room, and he would likely suffer in ways he could not even imagine before he met his final fate. He wished there was some way he could at least put out a warning to his friends before he died but he had tried to fight and there was nothing more he could do. He shut his eyes and bowed his head ready for whatever was to come.

“All tired out for today are we?” asked the Boggart, “that is disappointing. Well, I guess you’re free to go then!”

The bonds that had been holding Ron’s hands in place suddenly came free, but he did not move from his seat, as he stayed staring resolutely at the floor. He was too tired for hope.

“What’s the matter, you’re free to go.”

“This is just another trick,” he explained, still not daring to move a muscle, “you’re not just going to let me go.”

“Right and Wrong!” Bogsy answered “Or rather wrong and right. There’s no trick, you are completely free to leave this room, you can walk straight out of here, go find your friends tell them you love them and you’re sorry and you’re never going to take their friendship for granted again. But you are right that I am never going to let you go.”

Ron’s head which had begun to look up slightly fell back down again.

“You’re free to go now, you’re in shock so you’re of no use to me anymore.” As he spoke the chair violently tipped forcing Ron upright. “But make no mistake, there is nothing you can do to stop me from appearing to you whenever and wherever I want. Whenever you’re alone or about to go to sleep I’ll be there, showing you horrors worse than your worst nightmare. I am not just some ordinary villain here to add another track to your rogue’s medley, I would say I am death but I am so much more than that. You can leave this room Ronald Weasley, but you can never, ever leave me.”

Ron gathered together just enough hope to run off the stage and put as much room between himself and this creature as possible. As he did a chilling laugh reverberated throughout the now empty room.

“You can run but are you fast enough, you can run but I will catch you, and the nightmare time is going to get you!”

END ACT 1

Chapter Text

ACT 2 SCENE 1 - SUPER FRIENDS

Elsewhere on Pigfarts, the real Harry and Hermione were sitting next to each other engaged in light hearted conversation, when Ron came barging in from the side with a look of pure terror on his face. Slamming the door hard behind him, he stayed there shaking, as he stared at Harry and Hermione in trepidation. When he looked into their eyes he couldn't help but see the faces of the imposters that had just tormented him.

Remembering his earlier outburst, Harry instantly felt guilty upon seeing Ron as he began to walk over to him and said “Listen man, I’m so sorry for snapping at you like that. I was just really mad at Dumbledore and I took it out on you and that wasn’t cool, I’m sorry.”

As Ron continued to stare at them in stunned silence, his breathing only getting heavier, Hermione began to notice that Ron was shaking, and a wave of worry washed over her. “Ron, are you okay?” she asked.

Still silent he collapsed against the door and simply looked up at them and shook his head, as tears began to fall from his eyes once more.

“Are you real?” he asked pitifully, as Hermione ran over to comfort him.

“What do you mean are we real? Ron what’s happened?”

She tried to take his bring him in for a hug but he shook her off and backed into a corner, as he pulled his wand out of his pocket and pointed it in her face.

“Prove to me that you are really Hermione, tell me something that only you would know. What was the first thing I ever said to you?” Ron asked.

“I think you called me a night troll?” she answered.

Ron nodded, looking a little calmer, as he turned his wand to Harry, who now put his arms up in the air. “And Harry,” he asked, voice still trembling. “Do you like red vines?”

“Dude what? Of course I like red vines, they’re the most delicious, most red, most” Harry paused as he tried to think of another adjective

“Most versatile?” Ron tentatively suggested, hardly daring to let himself feel this comfort.

“Yeh most versatile candy in the world,” Harry finished. “Ron, what’s going on?”

Ron breathed a huge sigh of relief as he grabbed them both in a tight embrace and said, “Okay thank God I think everything’s back to normal. He didn’t seem to have all of your memories, Harry you couldn’t even remember the pizza box thing!”

“Who didn’t have our memories?” Hermione asked.

“What pizza box thing?” Harry asked.

“You remember in first year when Lucius Malfoy kidnapped you and we broke you out by pretending to be pizza delivery guys.”

“No? I remember he did a cool dance and Yaxley was there too, but I don’t remember any pizza boxes?”

“Come on man, ‘mushrooms, red peppers, artichoke hearts, and a knuckle sandwich!’” he said imitating

“This isn’t important, Ron what’s going on?” Hermione asked, “Why wouldn’t we be us? Is someone pretending to be us?”

“There was a Boggart,” he began to explain in between sobs, “but it’s not like a normal Boggart, it can talk, and it can transform into anything at all.”

Hermione patted his arm sympathetically, “It’s okay Ron, I know Boggarts can be pretty scary, but you just have to make it transform it into something funny and it’ll go away.”

He grabbed her shoulder as he pleaded, eyes wide with madness, “No, Hermione you haven’t thought about the implications! When I say it can transform into literally anything I mean it. I don’t think we were ever really with Draco when we went to see Dumbledore, that was the Boggart!”

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked. “Boggart’s can’t transform into anything near that complex, they could certainly take on his physical form but there’s no way one could impersonate a sentient being. I don’t even think they can talk.”

“That’s what I’m saying. It wasn’t a normal boggart it was something new. It said it was called Bogsy And it wasn’t just Draco,” he continued to explain, squeezing his eyes tight shut as he remembered what had happened, “it also transformed into you two, but I didn’t know that I thought you were really there. And it tortured you, although it wasn’t really you,” he began to pat her down as if still not fully believing that she was actually okay. “And I thought you were going to die. Hermione I’m so sorry, I love you more than anything in the world, and I know that you’re like this really smart, sexy girl,” Hermione broke out into an involuntary grin, “and I’m sorry I did try and be emotionally distant so you would like me,”

Harry began to signal viciously with his arms for Ron to stop talking.

“like Harry suggested,” Ron continued, oblivious to his signals as Hermione flung Harry a very dirty glance.

“It was Sirius’s advice!” Harry protested meekly.

“But I couldn’t do it,” Ron continued, “I’m sorry I just can’t be that guy.”

“I don’t want you to be that guy Ron. I really, really don’t want it.” She glanced pointedly at Harry then turned back to Ron and cupped his face in her hands, “I just want you to be you. And when you’re insecure about something, I want you to talk to me about it, instead of lashing out.”

Ron nodded with his eyes still screwed up tight.

“So, what’s been bothering you?” she asked.

“I’ve just been worried that since you never want to kiss me, and you know Harry and Ginny are always fucking like rabbits,” Hermione winced at the mental image that she did not need a reminder of, “I worry that you don’t want to kiss me because you don’t actually like me. Because I’m not good enough for you.”

“Ron it’s got nothing to do with you, I’m just not a very physical person and you know I’m waiting until marriage! When I was a child I heard a very scary story about an axe-man monster baby who lives in the woods and kills people that have sex out of wedlock, so I’ve sworn off doing anything like that until I’m safely and legally married.”

“And I’m okay with that,” Ron said, “I promise I’m okay with that, I just want to know that you like me.”

“Well I do, okay I really, do you’re the funniest person I’ve ever met,”

“Hey!” protested Harry.

“you are so kind and loyal,” she continued, “And I guess in a way it is kind of sweet that you’re so worried about whether I like you, although I wish next time that you would just tell me instead.”

“And you’re the smartest person I’ve ever met,” Ron answered in kind, “you are so patient to put up with me and Harry’s bullshit,”

“Oi!” said Harry.

“Hermione,” he continued, “you are the coolest girl in the whole wide world and I promise that I’m not going to take you for granted ever again okay.”

Hermione brought Ron into a big hug, as she breathed in the comforting smell of his hair and gently rubbed her hands up and down his back.

“Get a room,” Harry grumbled.

“You’re one to fucking talk,” Hermione grumbled back, although there was no venom in either of their words.

Both Hermione and Ron felt tremendous weights lifted off them as they were finally able to air the feelings that had been weighing them down since they’d got to Pigfarts. Even Harry beneath all his jokes and grumblings felt his heart warm at seeing his best friends make peace again.

Ron eventually broke away from his embrace with Hermione, feeling a great and sudden sense of dread at the prospect of telling Harry the rest of the story. He was tempted to lie and say that nothing else had happened, but he decided Harry deserved the truth.

“That’s not all that happened,” he began again, turning this time to Harry, “I understand that you probably never want to be friends with me again, but,” he took a deep breath, “it said I could only save one of you and it made me pick who to save. I’m sorry I really didn’t want to have to choose, but I chose Hermione.”

Hermione smiled a little in spite of herself, but instantly stopped as she saw the look on Ron’s face.

Harry however was the only one who didn’t seem the least bit concerned by this turn of events. “I mean yeh duh that makes sense,” he said in a blasé tone.

“Wait, you’re not upset?” Ron asked in disbelief.

“Well yeh, firstly I have the most plot armour and secondly I’m like the most badass person ever, I would absolutely kick some boggarts ass if it tried to kill me. Whereas what’s Hermione going to do? Correct its maths homework?”

Hermione’s frown now turned into an irritated glower cast in Harry’s direction.

“You were really upset with me,” Ron explained, “you said you didn’t want to be friends anymore.”

Harry grabbed Ron’s hands, “We will always be friends, whatever happens. All three of us,” he added as he grabbed Hermione’s hands too. “Even if we sometimes take our problems out on each other,” he said looking at Ron, “or take each other for granted,” he said looking at Hermione. “We’ve got to all stick together. Because good friends care for each other. And never ever forget that I’ve got you and you’ve got me, so reach for the stars-“

“…Harry, is this S Club 7?” Hermione asked.

Harry looked abashed as he stopped singing out loud (although in his head the chorus was in full swing.)

“So how did you manage to get away?” Hermione asked.

Ron shook his head, still not fully daring to believe that he actually had gotten away. “He said he was bored with me for now, but he was pretty clear that he’d be coming back. Hermione,” Ron implored, begging her to understand the danger they were all in, “it wasn’t Lord Voldewarthog who killed Professor Cornwallis, it was him.”

Hermione gasped in shock. “How is that possible?” she asked.

“Look it said a lot of things about lobsters, a river and some sort of species of rat called the titty mitty dikrat whatever that means. But basically, he took the form of Cornwallis’s late wife and haunted the shit out of him, he made her tell him it was his fault that she died and all sorts of things again lots of it about lobsters, but eventually it got too much and he killed himself.”

“Tell Titty Mitty I’m sorry!” Hermione exclaimed smacking her palm on her forehead.

“Bless you?” Harry said.

“Rumbleroar said those were Cornwallis’s final words. Oh, everything makes sense now!”

Harry definitely did not feel that everything made sense now, not least because he still had no idea what a titty mitty was but decided to let Ron continue on with his story anyway.

“It gets worse though,” Ron continued, “He then said he was doing the exact same thing to Dumbledore right now. I think Dumbledore might actually be in trouble after all.”

“Harry!” Hermione shrieked, “This was what Dumbledore meant about Snape haunting him, it wasn’t actually Snape it was the boggart. And this probably also explains why Scarfy and Dumbledore weren’t talking, I knew Scarfy would never actually pull a knife on Dumbledore, how would he even hold it for a start?”

“So he’s right then!” Ron exclaimed, throwing his arms up in the air and sitting down on a bench. “He killed Cornwallis and now he’s going to kill Dumbledore and then he’s going to kill me and there’s nothing we can do about it! Well I guess it’s been nice knowing you guys.”

“No,” Hermione said, taking Ron by the hands, “it’s different now, because now that we know what’s happening we can stop it okay. Next time we see him we’ll know it’s not real and that has to count for something, and in the meantime we’re going to find a way to stop him. At the end of the day he’s just a boggart and all boggarts can be defeated with laughter.”

Ron nodded bravely. “Okay, I think I can force a laugh.”

“But it can’t be a forced it has to be a real genuine laugh caused by the Boggart’s assumed form to work,” Hermione added as if she was reciting a passage from a textbook from memory.

“Are you sure that seems way too specific?” Harry asked.

“And you need to point your wand at it and say Riddikulus!” she added.

“That's ridiculous,” said Harry.

“No, Riddikulus.”

“Well then this is hopeless," Ron said, sighing in frustration, "because there's no way you can make that turn into something funny, it’s way too real and we probably won’t even know when it’s happening. For all you two know, I could be Bogsy right now, hell this bench could be Bogsy!” he exclaimed, jumping to his feet and pointing his wand threateningly at the bench, as he stared at it intensely.

“We’re going to have to be vigilant,” Hermione agreed, “but we probably don’t have to be that vigilant,” she added, lowering Ron’s wand arm and turning him to face her.

“And next time it’ll be different,” added Harry as he stepped forward on the stage and a spotlight appeared, “because if we do it together then there’s no way they’re ever gonna make us backdown so we’ve got to get back up because we’re ready to go and strike back. So sorry to interrupt, but there are occasions met by lesser men where we must unite so we can fight and so we can write our own happy endings and run speedrun to the future, because this is the end of all the fighting and that’s the American way.”

Ron and Hermione starred at Harry blankly for a second, before he explained, “it’s just a hype medley I’ve been working on.”

“Okay anyway,” said Hermione “Before we try anything I think we need to get more information on what we’re dealing with here. This is clearly not an ordinary Boggart, usually they can’t talk or transform into anything anywhere near that complex so we need to work out how it’s able to do that. I think we need to go find Professor Hidgens. Somehow he knew that we’d be in danger and he also knew about Dumbledore, so I think whatever’s going on he’s bound to have some information.”

"His next office hours aren't until Tuesday though,” Harry explained. He’d been keen to talk to the Professor about the school musical so had been keeping a close eye on his office hour schedule which seemed about as changeable and unpredictable as the staircases at Hogwarts.

Hermione felt a determination swell up within her "Harry Potter there is a really powerful, dangerous magical creature on the loose and your best friend is shaking out of his skin. I do not give a fuck when his office hours are, I do not even give a fuck if I have to interrupt a class to speak to him, I do not care if we get expelled from Pigfarts, or the entire galaxy, we are going to see him and we are going to fucking see him right now!"

Harry looked stunned, as Hermione grabbed both him and Ron by the arms and practically frog marched them off the stage as they went off to find Professor Hidgens.

Chapter Text

ACT 2 SCENE 2 - A SHOWSTOPPING NUMBER IS SOMETHING YOU DIE FOR

Hermione barged into Professor Hidgens’ office, practically kicking the door down, as Harry and a still distressed Ron followed in her wake. At their entry Hidgens, who had been sat at his electric keyboard sensually caressing the keys, sat bolt upright in surprise at the intrusion.

“Professor,” Hermione asked, striding purposefully towards him, “we need to ask you about something urgently!”

“Ahh yes I’ve been expecting you," he announced as he swivelled on his chair mysteriously.

“Really?” Hermione asked excitedly, “So you know what’s going on then?”

“No I was just trying to- you ever heard of dramatic flair?” he asked in exasperation.

Hermione groaned and rolled her eyes. If there was one thing Pigfarts had made her sick of it was getting so close to answers and just hitting jokes.

“Professor,” she began again, “we need to ask you about that song you sang at the welcome feast. We know about Dumbledore and we know about Bogsy. He’s after Ron and Dumbledore, and we need any information you have that could help us defeat him.”

“You liked my song eh?” he said ignoring the substance of her plea, “Well, here’s another one that I think you might like. He sat down at the keyboard and played a simple chord.

“We really don’t have time-“ Hermione began to protest.

"Just a little tune,” he continued, punctuating each one of his sentences with a new chord, "something to get you in the mood.”

“Professor please-“

At this point he was deaf to the world around him, as he shut his eyes in passion and contorted his face into a seductive glare, almost as if he was being turned on by his own musical prowess. "Just imagine you're sitting alone one evening," he continued, "when suddenly: the phone. Ring ring…"

He suddenly changed key and sped up as he began to sing at full volume, headbanging with alarming ferocity for a man of his age.

yeeaaahhh yeeaaahhh yeeah

LIAMS GOT A PHONE CALL

yeeaaahhh yeeaaahhh yeeah

LIAMS GOT A PHONE CALL

WHO COULD IT BE

WHICH ONE OF MY BUDDIES IS CALLING FOR ME

OOOOOH BOY

COULD IT BE REESE

COULD IT BE DARREN

COULD IT BE JOE

OR MAYBE EVEN NICO

yeeaaahhh yeeaaahhh yeeaaahhh

LIAMS GOT A PHONE CALL

yehhhhhh yehhhhh yehhh

LIAMS GOT A PHONE CALL

HELLO...

…SHIT IT'S GERALD

He finished with a dramatic flourish on the keys and an even more dramatic swipe of his hair. The ineffable combination of the song and Hidgens’ hips seemed to cheer Ron up, or at least distract him somewhat, as he nodded his head vigorously. Harry also looked moderately impressed but Hermione had moved well past exasperation and into outright fury.

“Fucking brilliant,” Ron proclaimed.

"Well it's not as good as the opening to Moana," Hidgens said modestly.

Hermione walked over to the wall and unplugged his keyboard from the extension socket to horrified gasps and protestations from Ron and Harry, “Okay, I don’t know what the fuck that was but it had nothing to do with what I asked you. Do you know about Bogsy, and if so what and how?”

“Bogsy? Like a bog? No sorry I don’t know what you mean.”

“Okay,” Hermione continued undeterred “in which case what danger were you talking about in your song at the welcome feast?”

For the first time since they had met the demented old professor, he seemed almost unsure of himself, as he began to pick nervously at the wood on his desk. “It was just something a… friend told me about,” he eventually answered.

Hermione stared down at him with a ferocious intensity, as if she was trying to melt Professor Hidgens with her eyes. “And how did you know Dumbledore was here?” she pressed on.

“Again, I have a friend who, um, knows things.”

“Okay and now can you tell me who the fuck this all knowing friend of yours is?”

He paused and looked at the door, briefly considering whether it was worth trying to make a run for it, but eventually thought the better of it. He realised the jig was up as he put his face in his hands and began to sob loudly. Not quite convincingly but definitely loudly. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and sniffed into it melodramatically.

“You want to know the truth?” he asked before Hermione could question what on Mars was going on. He brought his head out of his hands and locked her dead in the eyes. Despite the ferocity of his earlier sobbing, she noticed that his eyes and cheeks still seemed to be dry as a bone. “The truth is that I’ve been telling a Little White Lie.”

“Okay and what does that mean?” Hermione asked.

“The truth is… I’m a fraud.”

“No!” Harry and Ron gasped simultaneously.

“It’s true, I’m just a no good washed up wannabe who ran away to Mars! My songs are terrible, my girlfriend doesn’t like me anymore. Oh Chad,” he declared pulling out a handkerchief and sobbing into it, “where did it all go so wrong!” If they’d thought Hidgens was a drama queen before, it was nothing compared to how he was acting now.

“Hey man listen,” Harry said, leaning in and putting his hand on his shoulder reassuringly, “HP knows a thing or two about writing songs, it’s kind of my thing, I actually killed a dragon with one once. And you know what, both the songs we’ve heard from you sounded pretty good. It’s easy to be down on yourself, I remember when I wrote the Cho Chang song I was a bit worried about the lyrics, but it turns out ‘skinny’ and ‘Cho Chang’ are actually perfect rhymes.”

“I know the songs are good!” Hidgens practically screamed, startling Harry, “Good god man they’re brilliant! But they’re not mine. You see when I was a child I had this imaginary friend,” he began to explain. “You could say I was a lonely child, I never really had any true friends until college, but when the kids at school didn’t want to play with me she was always there. She would help me with my homework, and we would watch films together. The musicals were always our favourite, Mary Poppins, West Side Story, the Sound of Music. It was something about the way they sang and danced on those screens, and the way that at the end of each film the man they’d lusted after for years finally noticed them and they lived happily ever after.”

“Dude I don’t think that’s what either of those films are about,” Harry interrupted.

“And it wasn’t long before we began writing out own musicals together,” Hidgens continued. “That’s where I got my love of composing, but while I had the passion I never had her natural talent. My melodies are good but hers are magnificent. She doesn’t really speak to me anymore, not since I left Hatchetfield to go away to college, but on occaision she still sings. And to my greatest shame I have slapped my name on every single song she’s sung to me since. ‘Working Boys: A New Musical by Henry Hidgens!’ PAH!” he spat. “More like ‘Working Boys: A New Musical featuring additional songs by Henry Hidgens’. So, there you have it, I’m a fraud! A washed up, good for nothing fraud, doomed to die alone with nothing but accolades for a musical that’s only thirty percent original. And as for your question that you barged in here so eager to know the answer to, 'how did I know Dumbledore was here?' I don’t even know what Dumbledore is! At my best guess I’d say it’s an IKEA thing but I don’t think they have one of those on Mars. Rumbleroar asked me to sing a song at the welcome feast, I tried to write something but couldn’t think of anything that rhymed with Pigfarts so I just let her take the wheel as it were.”

While Harry and Ron were both very confused by the professor's monologue and also somewhat disappointed by the revelation that his musical talent may not entirely be his own, Hermione was willing to be somewhat more charitable to his story. Given everything that she had seen in the past three years, from finding out about the existence of magic to travelling to Mars in a cardboard spaceship, the idea that a music teacher might be able to communicate with an all knowing magical being didn’t seem entirely unrealistic.

“So, who is this friend of yours?” she asked, ploughing on with her questioning.

“Hermione,” Harry whispered to out the side of his mouth, “did you miss the part where he said imaginary?”

“Is she a witch?” she asked.

“Oh no she hates witches,” Hidgens replied.

“So, is she a muggle?”

“A what now?” Hidgens asked. If he was being perfectly honest with himself a lot of this wizard terminology was quite new to him but Professor Rumbleroar hadn’t seemed too picky in his interview. He had mainly seemed interested in the fact that he was from Hatchetfield and had heard of CCRP, although why that hell town would be of interest to anyone the professor had no idea. “Her name is Webby,” he began to explain, “I don’t really know what she is, but she comes from the space between dimensions. She used to say there are thousands of parallel versions of our reality all living side by side, and in between all those worlds there’s this place called the Black and White, and that’s where Webby lives.”

“Okay well this guy’s fucking nuts,” Harry said.

“Do you think this Webby could help us?” Hermione asked.

“Hermione, I don’t think Webby’s real,” Harry said to her in a stage whisper.

“I think she would like to help you,” Hidgens replied “She’s actually mentioned you three a few times now in her songs.”

“She’s mentioned us?” Hermione asked excitedly, “Well can we talk to her?”

Hidgens shook his head in dismay, “She doesn’t talk to me anymore, not since I grew up. She only speaks to me in song now and even that’s very occasional.”

“Well is there some way you could reach out to her, I don’t mind if she can only answer our questions in rhyme.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, she only comes to me when she wants to. Believe me I wish I could contact her at will, I’ve been stuck on my Working Boys act two opener for days now. But it could be days or it could be years before she next decides to appear.”

Hermione groaned in frustration. “Well, we don’t have days and we definitely don’t have years! Professor there must be something you can do, all of our lives could depend on this!”

“The apotheosis? He asked, fear finally setting in on his face.

“I don’t know what that means, but maybe.” She then turned back to Harry and Ron both of whom were listening attentively. “If he can’t help us then we need to go find Dumbledore to warn him about what’s happening, if Bogsy’s coming after him too, he’ll need to be ready.”

Suddenly the door opened and a man wearing a nightdress and long red dressing gown strode into the room.

“Yoohoo, did somebody say Albus Dumbledore,” Dumbledore asked, announcing his presence. “Hello there Henry, you haven’t seen my doll anywhere have you? It’s just gone missing. It’s green, got yellow eyes and like mouth tentacles?,” he mimed out mouth tentacles with his fingers. “I’m pretty sure Rumbleroar hid it, but I want to get proof before I go burning any more bridges.”

“Dumbledore!” Hermione exclaimed, “we need to talk to you urgently, there’s a really dangerous monster on the loose and we think it might be after you.”

“Ahah so you’re the Dumbledore guy everyone keeps going on about!” Hidgens announced eyeing him up and down like a metal detector.

“Yes Granger,” Dumbledore responded, “I heard about Lord Voldewarthog’s unfortunate return.”

Harry, who was still feeling less than warm towards dumbledore rolled his eyes in anger. Of course he would be stupid enough to be sucked into believing this Voldewarthog bullshit while they were left on their own to run around and worry about the real problem.

“No, Lord Voldewarthog is complete horseshit!” he growled, before going back to glaring angrily at Dumbledore.

“Harry’s right, he’s just a normal pig,” agreed Hermione, “But the problems he’s been blamed for, they were all real, but they weren’t caused by him. I know this might seem hard to believe but there is a highly evolved Boggart calling itself Bogsy that's going around and impersonating people and things.”

Ron stepped forward with heavy sincerity in his voice. “Dumbledore, it killed Professor Cornwallis. His wife died a few years ago and this boggart, Bogsy it’s been calling itself, transformed into her to torment him until eventually he killed himself. And now it’s doing the exact same thing with you and Professor Snape.” Dumbledore leaned against Hidgens' desk as Ron’s words began to hit him. “That’s what a boggart is,” he continued to explain. “It’s something that can transform into your deepest fears, and this one,” he shuddered, “is just really fucking good at it.”

“A boggart?” Dumbledore asked, looking uncomfortable at the mention of Severus, “No way, I don’t even think they can talk.”

“This one’s different,” Ron implored. “I’ve met it, and it managed to take the form of Harry, Hermione and Draco all at the same time, and I believed it was them! It spoke with their voices, it said the things they would say. It was terrifying.”

“Do you remember how you said Scarfy had threatened you with a knife, and I said that seemed really out of character?” Hermione asked, “Well I don’t think that was actually him, I think the most likely explanation is that Bogsy transformed into Scarfy to isolate you from your friends.”

Dumbledore fully sat down on a chair for a bit as he tried to take everything he was hearing in. While he wanted to feel relief that he was neither losing his mind nor witnessing proof that Severus hated him, he couldn’t help but feel disappointment that the small part of him that dared to believe he was actually talking to the ghost of his lover had been crushed.

“So this means I’m not losing my mind?” he eventually asked

“Yes, it does,” Hermione answered smiling genially. “But it’s not going to stop tormenting you until we find a way to defeat it.”

“Well that’s simple then,” said Dumbledore “to defeat a Boggart all you have to do is think of something funny, point your wand at it and say Riddikulus.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Hermione retorted.

“No Riddikulus.”

“No, I mean that is a ridiculous oversimplification of the situation," Hermione clarified. "Clearly this is so much more advanced than any Boggart we’ve encountered before. Ron’s met it, and came back shaking out of his skin, it might sound easy to be able to transform it into something funny, but do you think you’ll feel the same when you’re looking at your worst nightmare? It's already demonstrated how badly it can mess with you.”

“Relax Granger, you’re forgetting that I’m supposed to be the most powerful wizard alive. Who cares how advanced this thing thinks it is, trust me it will be no match for me. Now I know what I’m dealing with this time will be different.” He clapped her on the shoulder reassuringly, as she began to protest, “Let Dumby handle old Bogsy.”

Hermione sputtered trying to point out how unbelievably stupid it was for Dumbledore to try and face it alone with no plan, but he left so quickly that by the time she had found her words it was too late and he had already left.

Ron too considered chasing after him, but Harry, who was still staring with a snarl at the spot Dumbledore had vacated, was feeling less sympathetic.

“He’s a grown ass man, he can handle himself,” he declared in annoyance, seeing the worry on his friends’ faces.

“Hopefully he knows what he’s doing,” Hermione said, trying to convince herself more than anything “But in the meantime Professor, please can you find a way to ask this Webby what’s going on just in case. I think we’ll need all the information we can get.”

“I already told you I can’t control it, I have to wait for her to come to me.” Hidgens protested, which did nothing for Hermione’s growing pessimism.

“Well let’s hope that either Dumbledore manages to sort this out, or Webby’s interested enough in us to want to talk.”

Chapter Text

ACT 2 SCENE 3 - WHAT IF I TRIED SOMETHING MORE AND IT B A C K F I R E D

Having left the others to seek out Bogsy by himself, Dumbledore paced alone up and down the dimly lit stage with only a flashlight to light his way. He peered deep into all of its corners as he made his search, even scanning out across the audience as he softly called out “Bogsy! Bogsy! Come out, come out, wherever you are,” to try and lure him out of hiding. But he received no response.

“Maybe he’s backstage,” Dumbledore muttered to himself after a period of no luck, as he walked off the stage via the side door, leaving it empty and still in near total darkness. As he searched backstage, rustling and clanking sounds could be heard as he riffled through prop storage. “Oh hey Corey,” he could be heard asking, “you guys seen someone called Bogsy back here or anything, he looks sort of,” he paused for a second as he tried to guess what Bogsy might look like, “well I don’t actually know what he looks like, but he’s sort of evil. You seen nothing? Aw man no worries then,” he mumbled as walked back out on the stage.

He gave it one last half-hearted sweep to no avail, but just as he sighed and decided he would give up for the night, all of a sudden the light from his torch went out, plunging him into complete blackness.

“Stupid fucking flashlight,” he huffed, as he banged the torch against his hand to try and get it to turn on again. “Fucking Lumos you motherfucker.”

While he continued to struggle against the technology in vain, the disembodied voice of Bogsy wrang out across the dark stage, as creepily as ever. “Hello there Dumbledore,” it rang out, “I wouldn’t bother with that flashlight. It's got a little me stuck in the battery.”

“What the devil is going on here?” Dumbledore answered back into the blackness.

“Hahaha,” Bogsy laughed, before his voice suddenly changed to a familiar nasally rasp. “It’s funny,” he continued, “because I’m usually the one who says that.”

“Lumos,” said the voice as the stage lights came up to reveal Severus Snape, the old Hogwarts potion master, who unlike his Pigfarts counterpart did not have a snake glued to his wig.

During the blackout two wooden chairs had appeared on stage, one of which Professor Snape was currently sat on, and the other of which was empty and had clearly been left out for Dumbledore to sit on.

“Welcome,” continued the image of Snape, who was grinning sadistically from ear to ear, “to the potion master’s corner.”

Seeing his ex-lover stirred up the now familiar maelstrom of emotions that Dumbledore experienced each time Bogsy had appeared to him. If he had thought that knowing none of it was actually real would change anything he had been sorely mistaken. But he had told Harry, Ron and Hermione that he would handle it and he didn't plan on breaking Harry's trust again so soon. So for now he decided to cling to whatever rationalisation he could muster as he prepared to face up to his demons.

“You really think I’m going to fall for that?” Dumbledore asked. He slowly drew out his wand, but at the same time his legs, without the need for villainos intervention, moved to towards the empty chair. “You think I, Albus Dumbledore, the most greatest, most beautifulest, most sexiest wizard ever to have lived is going to fall for this smoke and mirrors bullshit. Oh yeh, I know what you really are now.”

Snape wobbled his head as he gently pushed his wig out of his eyes. “Okay, so maybe I’m not technically the real Severus Snape," he said with an evil grin and air quotes. "The real Severus Snape is a rotting corpse 400 million km away.” Dumbledore winced at his words. “But let's not pretend you don't want to listen to what I have to say anyway. Come have a seat," he gestured to the chair that Dumbledore was hovering next to.

Dumbledore stared at him unmoving, still pointing his wand threateningly as he tried to cling on by his fingertips to the knowledge that this wasn’t real. He remembered the advice he had so confidently given to Hermione just a few minutes earlier. All he had to do to end this for good was to turn it into something funny, but as he tried to wrack his brain for any inspiration it could muster it was called away by the thought of Snape dead and the memories of all that had happened. His lower lip began to wobble as his grip on the chair became stronger than the one on his wand. He let his wand hand lower and took the seat.

“Why did you kill me?” Dumbledore wailed in despair.

“There we go,” ‘Snape’ replied, grinning blithely. “Well why don’t we start by asking why you think I tried to kill you?”

“I don’t know!" he cried.

Snape grinned villainously as he replied, “Oh I think you do.”

“Oh I think I don’t?” said Dumbledore.

They paused in silence for a moment as Snape’s eyes bored into Dumbledore’s. Now that he was looking at him with guard lowered Dumbledore began to notice the small details. How everything from his long-buttoned cape, to his firm leather gloves, to his ill-fitting wig was exactly how he remembered it. It was like a ghost was reaching forwards through time and kicking him in the heart.

“It just doesn’t make any sense to me how one minute you’re making me ticking sandwiches and the next minute you’re trying to kill me,” Dumbledore lamented.

Snape smirked. “And what if I told you that ticking sandwich was actually a bomb.”

“I know your sandwiches are the bomb! Especially the peanut butter jelly ones, the balance of flavours is just…” Dumbledore mimed a chef’s kiss as Snape rolled his eyes.

“You see this was always the problem with you, you never fucking listen to what I'm saying,” Snape snapped back, his tone suddenly turning hostile.

“What do you mean?” Dumbledore stuttered, as he tried and failed to process what he was hearing.

“What do I mean!?” he spat back, “I’m not interested in you Dumbledore! And I never was. All my life I only loved one woman and it certainly wasn’t you.”

“McGonagall?” Dumbledore asked.

“No, you peanut-brained twit,” he growled furiously, “Lily Evans.”

“Harry’s mom? But didn’t she dump you because of your, you know,” Dumbledore nodded coyly before stage whispering, “wizard nazi phase.”

Snape tutted and rolled his eyes. “Classic liberals calling everyone they disagree with a nazi.”

“Either way she died twelve years ago,” he implored, “I knew she meant a lot to you, but at some point you’ve got to get over it.”

“And isn’t that rich coming from you. The man who chose to run away to Mars rather than confront the fact that I wasn’t interested in him. The man who would rather string along his new bed mate rather than be honest with him. Let’s face the facts Dumbledore, you’re no better than I am.”

“I know I’m not a perfect person and I know you’re not perfect either, but we could have been good for each other.”

“How is he still not listening?” Snape asked in frustration. “I never loved you. I’m not even sure if I liked you.”

“But we had sex!” Dumbledore exclaimed.

“And? I’ve also had sex with Hagrid that doesn’t mean I’m in love with him.”

“But that’s different!” Dumbledore exclaimed, “we’ve all had sex with Hagrid!”

“Okay sure everyone’s had sex with Hagrid,” Snape conceded, “but that wasn’t enough for you was it. Oh sure you might have spent plenty of time banging on and on about how much you needed me, but when push came to shove that didn’t stop you from parking your dick in every space available did it? Does the name Umbridge ring any bells?”

“Umbridge?” Dumbledore asked, he did remember their brief flirtation but between her constantly blowing up his phone and trying to kill them all with dementors it was never really going to work out. If that was all that had been holding him back then surely there was no issue. Maybe still after all this time they could find a way to be together. “Severus, she was a woman,” he explained, “I’m not interested in her.”

“No, but you didn’t know though that when you sent her flowers, or when you took her out for body shots and a cheap shag,” he growled bitterly. “I heard that duet you two sang. Although I’m surprised you managed to convince so many people to sleep with you given your performance issues.”

“Alright,” Dumbledore snapped, feeling Snape’s playground jibe had gone a bit too far. “I think you’re just jealous that I actually tried to put myself out there, while you were busy crying into your cum sock over a dead woman who didn't even like you.”

“I find that very hurtful,” Snape stated seriously.

“Well I found you killing me hurtful,” Dumbledore replied as tears began to form in his eyes.

“Good, that was my intention.”

“That’s not true,” Dumbledore insisted, as he stood up and wagged his finger at Snape, “I know it’s not true because the only reason I’m not dead is that you didn’t really want to kill me.”

“How do you know that’s why it didn’t work?” Snape suggested cruelly. “How do you know I didn’t miss or get distracted? Isn’t pointing your wand at someone and saying ‘Avada Kedavra’ a bit of a risky move if you don’t actually want to kill them? Maybe you’re right and deep down in my shrivelled up husk of a soul I didn’t actually want you dead, but I did want you gone, because I was sick of you treating the people in your life like toys. This isn’t Buckaroo, you can’t just pile all your shit on me like I’m a little plastic donkey.”

“Oh fuck you, I’m done with this,” Dumbledore declared, as he whipped out his wand and pointed it at Snape, shouting “Riddikulus!”

Snape simply laughed as he was completely unaffected by Dumbledore’s spell. “Don’t be absuuurd!” he taunted, “you have to be thinking about something funny. Perhaps you should try thinking about your penis.”

“Severus, stop this!” he begged.

“You’re free to leave at any moment.”

But Dumbledore did not leave. Rather, he sat back down, resolute that he would get to the bottom of this. Even though he knew somewhere deep in his mind that this wasn’t the real Snape and every answer was specifically designed to torment him, he didn’t care. Either because he thought he might learn some real truth or because deep down he wanted this pain, he pushed on.

“I don’t understand why you wouldn’t have just said something if that was how you felt,” he asked

“You think I didn’t say something!” he snarled, “I don’t think I could have made it any clearer! Come on Dumbledore, think about it, think back.”

Once more, millions of shards of scattered memories rushed through Dumbledore’s head, most of them already twisted beyond recognition from the months of grief, and now mutating even further as this new harsher version of Severus superimposed itself on top of the man he had loved.

“I don’t,” he stammered, as the flood gates finally opened and the tears he had been holding back began to fall from his eyes. “Severus I never meant to. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you crying? You think you have the right to act like the victim here? I’m the one that’s fucking dead, and that is your fault. I died because of all your bullshit about nobility and ‘death eaters are bad’ blah blah blah. Bullshit which you don’t even believe by the way, but you put it into my head, and then I died because of it. You killed me. I’m dead and gone forever, and that is your fault.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Dumbledore breathed through his tears.

“Well that’s a first.”

They stared at each other for a while in total silence. Snape, looking out with a stony face through cold dead eyes and Dumbledore desperately trying to project the strength of a man not on the verge of tears. He wanted to stand up for himself and say something, anything in his defence but he couldn’t deny the truth in what he was hearing.

“And you know what I find absuruuud," Snape continued, once he was satisfied Dumbledore had spent enough time stewing. "Okay maybe I wasn’t always the perfect person. Maybe I could have handled all this better, but how old are you Dumbledore?”

“One hundred and nine,” he answered sheepishly. “But in a DILF way not an old person way-“

“Exactly you’re 109 and still acting like a fucking child. You’ve done all of this before and learned absolutely nothing.”

“What do you mean I’ve done all this before?”

Instead of answering his question, Snape broke out into a smirk and slowly laughed as the lights went down on the stage once more.

“What’s going on?” Dumbledore cried out into the darkness, over the muffled sounds of actors trying to swap places and apologising as they stepped on each other’s toes.

The lights came up again to reveal that where Snape had once sat, there was now a man with shoulder length auburn hair and the rabid eyes of a man possessed by insanity.

“Grindelwald?” Dumbledore asked, his eyes wide with horror.

“REMEMBER ME!” he howled in Dumbledore’s face.

Dumbledore gripped the back of his seat as he edged back against it as far as possible. He had spent decades of his life twisting the memories of his first boyfriend into some horrifying monster, but this incarnation was still somehow more crazed and terrifying than even his most warped nightmares. It was like looking into a portrait of a man he knew but did not recognise.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“The same thing good old Severus Snape was!” Grindelwald taunted as he began pacing around the stage “Just popping by to let you know what a piece of fucking shit you are!”

“No, you’re dead, you’re not real,” Dumbledore sputtered, feeling more confused and disoriented than ever.

“That’s actually ambiguous in this canon.” Grindelwald answered, briefly dropping the levels of insanity in his voice, “Because technically I don’t die until the 7th book, which would mean I’m still alive now since this is the 3rd year, but on the other hand I die as part of the whole Voldemort arc which has already happened, so maybe I am dead - basically it’s unclear. But anyway,” he snarled, coming right up to Dumbledore’s face once more, “that doesn’t fucking matter because right now I am very much here!”

“I’m leaving,” Dumbledore announced confidentially, although when he tried to stand up he found his legs through magical forces, fear or his own unspoken desire for self-punishment would not obey his command. Instead, he was glued to his seat like a pathetic rabbit trying to warm itself in the car's approaching headlights.

“No Dumbledore, if you leave you’re fired!”

“Please stop this I don’t remember you being like this! You’re scaring me!”

“Oh I’m scaring you am I!? Oh look at me poor widdle Dumbledore,” he mocked, “Oh look I’m fwightened. Piece of shit!” he screamed in his face, “But I wonder! Are you really scared of me? Or are you just scared of yourself?”

“I don’t know, I think I’m pretty scared of you right now,” he blurted out, as he averted his eyes from Grindelwald’s piercing stare.

“And you should be. You should be scared, because I have a lot of good reasons to be very, very angry with you,” he cackled.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about I haven’t done anything,” he whimpered.

“Those are big words from a man who MURDERED HIS SISTER!” He screamed in Dumbledore’s face.

“It was an accident and she was really annoying!” Dumbledore whined pathetically. “What did I do to hurt you?”

“Well jee Dumby, I dunno? Perhaps it’s the fact that you dumped me by FUCKING OWL!” he screamed in rage.

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t know how to–“

“Oh and then there was that time when you decided to fight me and hand me over to spend fifty years of my fucking life in a prison cell! In Germany!”

“I had no choice- I-“

“Do you have any idea how bad German food is? And don't get me started on the fucking mineralwasser!"

"I-"

"Or maybe," he continued, steam rollering over Dumbledore's attempts to defend himself, "it was that time where we planned to set up an death evil cult, so we could take over the world, and enslave the muggle race together, and then you just fucking bailed at the last minute! Like, who the fuck does that?”

“That was wrong," Dumbledore replied sheepishly as he once again found himself trying to block out shameful memories. "I was a different person back then."

“Yeh you were a different person. You weren’t a fucking pussy. When I think back on that time we spent together,” he said as he stood up and walked behind Dumbledore. He leaned down and began to sensually caress his neck with his cold hands. “And everything we shared,” he moved down so their faces were inches away from each other, as if he was about to move in for a kiss, “and how I felt about you…”

Suddenly Grindelwald’s briefly loving gaze reverted to his earlier rage, as he began scream right in Dumbledore’s face. “It makes me feel FUCKING DISGUSTED!! To see what a pathetic mop rag you’ve become! But now I’m going to get my revenge. Tonight, I’m going to finish what Snape started and I’m going to fucking kill you Dumbledore!”

He brandished a long silver knife, which seemed to gleam almost as brightly as the whites of his unhinged eyes.

“Riddikulus, riddikulus, riddikulus” Dumbledore cried out, as he waved his wand in Grindelwald’s direction, but try as he might not one amusing thought could break through his veil of terror. He knew that he was seconds from death and looking back on his life the only thing he felt was a hollow regret that over a hundred years of life had culminated in him dying a ruined wreck, millions of miles from his home with nothing but a suspected case of lion chlamydia to show for it. His wand fell to the floor. This was how it had ended for Professor Cornwallis, and it was how it would end for him too.

Grindelwald lunged at him with the knife, and Dumbledore squeezed his eyes shut tight as he braced himself for the inevitable killing blow. But as it happened he felt nothing. Instead, just as the blade was about to make contact with him the lights suddenly went back down, leaving the stage in darkness as Bogsy’s normal voice range out once more.

“Well this has been fun,” it said with sadistic relish, “I’ll being seeing you again soon. Adios motherfucker.”

Dumbledore picked up his dropped wand and ran off the stage, desperate to put as much distance between himself and what had just transpired as possible. He would do what he had always done, and what both Severus and Grindelwald had known he would do. Now that the going had gotten tough it was time for him to disparate.

Chapter Text

ACT 2 SCENE 4 – THE GUY WHO DIDN'T LIKE A VERY POTTER MUSICAL

The next day Harry, Ron and Hermione were back in Professor Hidgens’ office, blissfully unaware of the fate which had befallen Dumbledore. They had originally decided to go there because Hermione had wanted to see if they could find out any more information about the mysterious Webby, but Harry and Ron who were confident in Dumbledore’s ability to defeat a pesky little Boggart had quickly allowed themselves to become distracted by talk of his musical.

And so it was that rather than discussing the hitherto unknown supernatural realm that Hidgens seemed to have a unique ability to communicate with, they instead found themselves gathered around his keyboard rehearsing songs for the new school musical ‘Working Boys’.

“No, no, no not like that,” Hidgens declared, taking his hands off the keyboard mid-refrain in frustration at Harry and Ron’s pitch. “It’s working boys we’re up to our ass in shit, not up to our ass in shit!" he explained, slightly changing the stress on the final word. "You see the difference!”

Harry and Ron nodded, their faces looking determined to get this right. As they got ready to try again Hermione, who was not at all keen to join in with the rehearsal, gave a loud sigh from her position atop Hidgens' desk where she lay boredly with her legs swinging off the side of it.

“Okay from the top!” Hidgens said, as he picked back up the accompaniment and Harry and Ron sung the chorus once more. Clearly they had done a better job of it this time as he smiled and wiped a tear from his eye. “Perfect! I think I might have finally found my Chad,” he announced looking at Harry. "And perhaps my Greg," he added wagging a finger in Ron's direction. Both of them beamed with excitement at their new found success, and Harry could already feel his daddy issues senses tingling as Hidgens looked up at them with pride.

“Ugh okay great!” Hermione groaned sarcastically, “can we go now?”

“I can tolerate a lot of things Herm-i-o-ne,” Hidgens chided, stressing every syllable of her name, “but if there’s one thing I simply cannot abide, it’s rushing art! I mean do you think these things happen overnight?! Do you seriously think it would be possible to make a successful musical with over 18 million views on Youtube, and counting, if you left everything until the week before the show?! Pagh” he spat, shaking his head.

Ron, however, who was not so dismissive of Hermione’s concerns owing to the shock brought about by Bogsy, went to sit down next to her and began to stroke her hair softly in reassurance.

“We’ll have more chance to talk to him about Webby if we’re in the musical,” he explained, “and if most of his songs are actually written by her, then listening to them could help us learn something.”

Hermione’s heart was instantly warmed by the knowledge that not only was she finally no longer the only one taking the mortal peril they were in seriously, but also that Ron had been thinking about her and was not oblivious to her boredom. She grabbed his hand in her own as he sat his himself down on the desk beside her.

Harry, however, was very far from taking their impending mortal peril seriously, as he walked around to the other side of the keyboard and began to play some over the top nonsense. Even though the tune he was playing sounded quite nice, the maniacal headbanging made it impossible for anyone to take seriously. Anyone that was apart from Professor Hidgens, who based on his facial expressions was utterly enamoured.

"Normally I'm more of a guitar guy," Harry explained once he'd satisfied himself musically, "but I haven't been able to play since getting here because of the invisible spacesuits. But hey maybe I'm a piano guy now."

Hidgens clapped Harry on the shoulder, sending his father figure adoption muscles into overdrive.

"You know Professor," Harry said looking up at him, "you’ve really inspired me, I think I’m going to write my own musical. I don’t know like a Harry Potter musical or something. Yeh, Harry Potter the Musical.”

“Oh man that’d be way too awesome,” Ron agreed from his position on the desk.

Hidgens, however, looked doubtful. “I don’t like it!” he announced before reconsidering. “Well I do, but you’ll have to change the title.”

“Why?” Harry asked.

“I don’t know it’s a little too on the nose,” Hidgens responded, “you could run into legal trouble if anyone ever tried to write a series of books about you. How about something a bit more subtle A Very Potter Musical?”

“Yeh,” Harry nodded as he warmed to the idea, “that sounds basically the same and also totally makes sense as a sentence! Okay so I’m thinking something like:” he started to play the chorus to Gotta Get Back to Hogwarts on the keyboard while Ron mimed air guitar in the background.

Hidgens conducted in the air as even Hermione began to sing along at the chorus. Just as they reached a lul in the music and were struggling to figure out where to take the second verse the door flung open and Dean and Seamus entered the room.

"Yo did somebody say Dean Thomas?" he asked as he and Seamus sauntered on into the room much to everyone's excitement.

“Oh hey Seamus, Dean, what’s up guys?” Ron asked.

“Well we were walking past and we heard some cool music and thought we’d check it out,” Dean explained as he brought Ron in for a hug.

“Ah yes!” Hidgens answered, “We’re rehearsing my new musical, ‘Working Boys: A New Musical’.” As usual, he swiped his arms through the air dramatically when he said the title.

“Well what’s up it sounded good man,” Dean answered.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Hidgens brushed him off, “besides I had help,” he added winking at Harry and Ron who knew all about Webby. "Now," he continued eyeing the new arrivals up and down, "I can see you two perhaps as my Mark and Leighton."

“Are you guys okay now, I heard you weren’t talking to each other?” Hermione asked the pair of them, keen to prevent the Working Boys rehearsal from beginning again.

“Well, he was being a bit of a wind up merchant over the footy,” Seamus began to explain in his incomprehensibly thick Cockney accent, “but then Tottenham bottled it at the weekend which put me in a good mood so we went for a cheeky nandos to talk it all over, and we’re all good now innit.”

“Yeh,” agreed Dean, “And then I was like man I’ve got no idea what the fuck you’re saying, but I love you bro so we cool now.” Dean brought him in for a big hug and almost began to well up as they patted each other on the back.

“It’s like Flitwick’s little bruvva always used to say," Seamus explained, "chat shit get banged.”

Professor Hidgens also seemed somewhat moved by this display as he too looked on the brink of welling up. “Such wise words,” he added in a bizarrely profound tone. “I know how you two feel, I've been having difficulties with my girlfriend lately as well," he explained pointing at the small black amazon Alexa on his desk, "but I think now I've finally come to realise what truly matters in life." He looked over with longing at the small black listening device on his desk as Ron squeezed Hermione’s hand tightly as he realised how much Hidgens’ words about his stupid speaker resonated with how he felt about her. “she’s always been there for me,” he continued, “ever since Chad..."

He trailed off and starred sorrowfully into the distance.

“Oh wow cool you have an Alexa!” Harry said, completely ignoring Hidgens' emotional crisis. “Did you know that Amazon uses these to spy on you? Like Jeff Bezos is literally listening to everything we say right now, personally himself.”

“Oh yes,” Hermione confirmed, “I read about it in Capitalist Bullshit: A History.”

“Hey Jeff,” Harry said to the Alexa, “pay your taxes.”

<<I’m sorry>> responded the computerised voice. <<I don’t recognise ‘pay your taxes’>>

“Yeh I’ll bet you don’t,” Harry muttered back.

“Okay I’ve got one,” Dean chimed in, “Hey yo Alexa, play ligma!”

<<I’m sorry>> it answered. <<I don’t recognise ‘ligma’>>

"Aw man you were supposed to say 'what is ligma'," Dean answered sheepishly.

“So Alexa,” began Seamus, “last Tuesday I ordered a new wand off Amazon, but it's trying to charge me 50 quid to get delivery to Mars which is a complete pisstake.”

<<I’m sorry, I don’t recognise ‘chewsday’>>

“Okay, okay, let me try,” Hermione offered, as she bent down to the speaker. “Alexa, given that the cloud provision industry, which is already becoming a fundamental piece of internet infrastructure, is an oligopoly with high entry barriers and only three significant market payers, are you at all concerned by the enormous power this gives to a handful of corporations, including yourself who now makes 60% of your operating profits from AWS cloud services, while the majority of legislators and members of the public remain too technologically illiterate to even try and understand the implications of this should abuses of power occur?”

“Nerd,” Ron muttered, as Hidgens stood up from his desk with fury in his eyes as he flared his nostrils and bore down on Hermione. “How dare you talk to my girlfriend like that!” he bellowed. “It’s not actually an Amazon Alexa anyway, it’s a CCRP knock off.”

“CCRP?” Hermione asked, “Why does that sound familiar?”

“It’s a company based in my hometown of Hatchetfield. Although weirdly I didn’t bring her with me to Mars, I actually found her in an abandoned old store cupboard when I got here. There was actually a bunch of CCRP stuff in there, now I think about it.”

The name still seemed familiar to Hermione but before she could figure out where from, they were interrupted by yet another arrival at the door.

This time it was Professor Shagrid and Professor Snake who walked in, but with none of the light hearted joviality that Dean and Seamus had. Instead, they both looked greatly distressed with furrowed brows and stooped frames. At once the atmosphere in the room grew chilly as everyone saw the looks on their crestfallen faces.

“Bad news,” Shagrid announced sombrely, as an uneasy apprehension filled the room, “Dumbledore has fled the school.”

Hermione stood up in horror, “What’s happened?” she asked, her voice laden with concern.

“We’re not sure,” answered Professor Snake, “he just left a note with Rumbleroar saying he was running away, we think he might have tried to go up against Lord Voldewarthog by himself.”

“There is no Lord Voldewarthog,” Harry snarled through gritted teeth, “Look isn’t it obvious what’s happened. He’s a fucking coward who’s just fucked off at the first sign of things getting real.”

“Okay Harry calm down,” Hermione urged.

“No I will not calm down,” Harry raged on, “because once again he’s run off and left us, a group of unqualified children, to clean up his mess!”

“You know in retrospect it probably wasn’t the best idea to let the most emotionally vulnerable person we know go up against a monster that feeds off emotional vulnerability,” Ron mused.

“I’m just sick of his bullshit,” Harry continued, “and I’m not fucking doing this again. I’m not chasing after him and his stupid urrgh! Hermione I am in a rage again!” Harry was practically shaking with anger as he sat himself down. “We should never have come to Mars,” he concluded.

“Harry this isn’t about Dumbledore, okay?” Hermione implored, “this is about a monster on the loose at Pigfarts who has already killed someone, who almost killed Ron! This is so much bigger than you and Dumbledore's beef, and if you decide to give up on this school, on all of us, because of that then as far as I’m concerned you’re no better than he is.”

Harry sat for a minute as he tried to take in what Hermione was saying, his rage quieting as he realised that she was right. He sighed and nodded as he resolved, not for the first time in his life, to put his squabbles aside and do the right thing. “Okay fine,” he said, “so what’s the plan?”

Ron and Hermione both smiled, pleased that Harry was now back on side and very much assured that together there was nothing they couldn’t take on. “Okay, Professor,” Hermione instructed as she turned to face Professor Hidgens, “we need you to contact Webby, I don’t care how you do it but we need information and we need help.”

“I’ve already told you, I can’t control it, she-“ Hidgens began but he was cut off when Hermione stood up and put her finger to his mouth.

“I don’t care, you are going to go to your room and you are not going to leave until you have spoken to her, do you understand me?”

“Or what?” he demanded.

“Or we’ll all be tortured and killed, Jesus fucking Christ are you not paying any attention!”

“Okay, fair point,” he agreed and moved to leave but hovered for some time in the doorway as he looked back and added, “and you know Hermione, if we really work on it then I think you could be my Steve.”

She rolled her eyes and demanded “Go!” as Hidgens finally slammed the door behind him leaving Harry, Ron, Hermione, Dean, Seamus, Shagrid, Snake and the items of enchanted magical clothing behind, staring at each other in fear as they tried to work out how they could possibly hope to beat something that had vanished off Albus Dumbledore like it was nothing.

Chapter Text

ACT 2 SCENE 5 – WHAT THE HELL CAN'T THEY DO

Hermione stood at the front of the class like a teacher, as she looked around the room at Harry, Dean, Seamus, Snake and Shagrid, all of whom were sitting on the classroom benches looking up at her expectantly, hoping that she would be able to tell them how to defeat the creature that had so easily overpowered Albus Dumbledore. She looked over at Ron, who unlike the others was standing next to her and took confidence from his smile of encouragement.

“Okay, so we don’t know whether Professor Hidgens will be able to get through to Webby,” she began as she paced about the front of the classroom with her hands clasped against the bridge of her nose. “So, in the meantime we have to assume that we’re on our own and we need to come up with a plan.”

She spent a few moments silently contemplating what a plan for something like this would even look like before concluding it would be easier to reason things through with a visual aid. She moved over to the blackboard, grabbed a piece of chalk and drew a large circle in the middle.

“Now this represents Bogsy,” she said pointing to the circle.

“Damn Hermione you really can’t draw,” Harry called out.

She rolled her eyes and wrote the word ‘Bogsy’ with an arrow pointing to the circle.

“And what are those squiggles supposed to represent?” Shagrid asked with his hand raised as he tried to make sense of her perfectly clear handwriting.

“Okay forget the board,” she said, as she tried to rub out the chalk with her sleeve, only managing to slightly smudge it and dirty her jumper. In frustration she gave up and flipped the board over to the other side.

“Let’s just try and talk this through,” she continued, trying not to take this as a bad sign. “We know that Bogsy can transform into basically anything, and we know from Ron that that includes fully life like imitations of people. To be perfectly honest, he could be one of us right now and there would be no way of knowing.”

As that realisation dawned on them, everyone began to eye each other in fear as they each realised that they may be the only real person in the room. Ron in particular began to visibly clam up as the memories of his last round with Bogsy played vividly across his mind. He began to wonder if the woman he’d just had his arm around was nothing more than the spectre that had been used to hurt him from before.

“Well the three of us have been together this whole time,” Harry reasoned gesturing at Ron and Hermione, “so we at least must be real.”

“I don’t think we can count on that,” Ron sighed, “he was able to pretend to be Malfoy for a really long time so there’s no reason he couldn’t have just been pretending to be you since before we met up.”

“Okay, well even if he can mimic our voices, surely he won’t have our memories so we should all just ask each other questions that only we would know the answer to. I’ll do you first - Ron, what’s your favourite colour vine other than green?”

Ron opened his mouth to answer, but before he could Hermione jumped in saying “Red vines.”

Harry gasped in shock that their unbreakable code had somehow been broken.

“Firstly," explained Hermione, "that is about as secure as making your password 1234,

“How did you find out my password?” Ron mumbled.

“And secondly,” she continued, “even normal Boggarts have some degree of telepathic powers to let them read our fears, and since Bogsy is a fully sentient being, he can probably read our minds in a lot more depth. Otherwise, how would he have been able to impersonate us so accurately?”

“Okay, great so we just straight up have no way of knowing whether any of us are real?!” Dean exclaimed, reflecting the chilly the mood in the room. He poked Seamus in the side to confirm that he was at the very least solid.

“Pretty much,” Hermione replied glumly.

“Well that’s bloody bollocks innit!” Seamus exclaimed.

As her words sunk in, everyone suddenly became hyper aware of each other’s actions as they couldn’t help but eye each other coldly as they tried to spot any suspicious behaviour. Ron was the first to accuse someone as he squinted his eyes and pointed at Shagrid and Snake. “How did you two know Dumbledore had left?”

“Don’t try tossing with me ya wee bastard,” Shagrid replied in his thick scottish accent, “I’ve already said, we were walking past Rumbleroar’s office so he flagged us down, told us about Dumbledore and told us to let people know while he tried to track down the warthog.”

“And what were you doing near Rumbleroar’s office?” Ron asked, continuing his accusation, “Is it near a vent by any chance? And Snake,” he began, turning his attention to him, “what about you, you look pretty sus?”

“Don’t be absurd, I’m not sus you’re sus!” Professor Snake retorted.

“If me and Professor Snake want to take a moonlit stroll together, hand in hand, past Professor Rumbleroar’s office that’s no business of yours,” Shagrid answered.

“Okay,” Dean said standing up, “If you’re not sus, then how come I saw you in Engineering earlier!”

“I was swiping my admin card,” Snake responded defensively as he now also stood up in anger.

“A likely story!” Seamus declared, jumping to his friend’s aid.

“Now listen here ya wee shits,” added Shagrid, “I have been with Slitherus the whole time, so if you’re accusing him, then you’re accusing me too!”

“Well it would make sense for Bogsy to want to appear as multiple people to give him more power in the room,” Hermione suggested.

“This is absurd,” Snake replied, “I know I’m real, and from where I’m sitting you three,” he pointed at Ron, Seamus and Dean, “seem very quick to accuse. He who smelt it dealt it and all that. How do we know that Weasley did actually escape, how do we know the boggart didn't kill you and take your body?”

Ron looked down at the floor.

“And what about you,” Snake continued, now pointing at Seamus. “I’m sorry but that accent is so obviously fake.”

“Oh yeh,” Seamus responded angrily as he puffed out his chest, “If you’re not the monster, then how come you’re such a fucking bellend!”

“How dare you talk to my, um, friend like that,” Shagrid snapped now standing up as well.

“Oh, we all know you’re fucking,” said Dean as he too joined the fray.

“Okay that’s it, get in the corner!” Shagrid demanded as he pointed at the corner he had sent Paul to stand in earlier.

Seamus and Dean however were significantly harder to phase than Paul had been.

“You get in the corner,” Dean said unimpressed.

“Yeh you tosser,” Seamus added.

“Why you little English shit,” said Shagrid.

Seamus put his hand over his mouth scandalised. “How dare you, I am Irish!”

As Shagrid gave another retort and Snake rushed to his defence, tensions continued to rise. More and more accusations flew about the room until only a few moments later, everyone was now standing up and the conversation had devolved into screaming personal insults about everything from dress sense to penis length into each other’s faces, with several parties coming close to blows. Everyone that was, except Harry who had been silent throughout this entire exchange and was the only person still sat down as he tried to put his finger on what he was missing.

“Guys, guys stop! I’ve got it” he stood up and announced after a short while. Everyone momentarily paused their fighting to listen to what he had to say. A good thing too as it appeared Seamus had Snake in a headlock and was trying to ring the neck of the cuddly toy snake that was glued on top of his head.

“There’s an easy way to tell if any of us are Bogsy,” Harry explained. “Think about it, he’s a monster who tortures people. The only reason he would transform into any of us, would be to cause problems between us, so as long as we’re nice to each other, and as long as we don’t do this,” he gestured at the many scenes of chaos before him, “as long as we have each other’s backs, and don’t squabble over who’s an imposter, then we’ll know none of us are. If we work as a team then we can take away his power to get into our heads.”

Hermione smiled with pride that someone other than her had shown some sense for once, as the class began slowly began to brush themselves off, sit down and regain some composure.

“Okay but Harry, even if he can’t get into our heads he can still transform into an AK-47 and shoot our legs off or something,” she pointed out.

“Okay, so maybe we also need a plan,” he conceded, as he sat down and Hermione resumed her position of authority at the front of the class again.

“The easiest way to defeat a Boggart is to think of something funny and say Riddikulus,” she said as she began to reason through the problem again.

“Yes but we’ve already established that that’s ridiculous!” Ron exclaimed.

“No, riddikulus,” she corrected.

“No, I mean it’s ridiculous to expect us to be able to think of something funny when we’re being psychologically tormented. That was Dumbledore’s plan and look how well that went for him.”

“Okay so we need something else,” she conceded. “Bogsy, is an overpowered villain, so how do we defeat an overpowered villain?”

They all wracked their brains in silence as Hermione tried to think through any weaknesses the boggart might have, and the rest of them ran through the plots to various movies they had seen recently for inspiration.

“How about time travel?” Dean suggested.

Hermione shot him down, “we don’t have a time turner, and anyway we already did that in first year, and we should probably try and keep things a little bit fresh.”

“Yeh and I can never follow what’s going on with all the timeline shit,” Harry added, “let’s just keep it simple.”

“How about the power of love?” Seamus suggested.

“Did that in second year,” said Hermione.

“How about a massive, fuck-off sword?” Shagrid posited.

“Saving that one for seventh year. Ugh there must be something else we’re not thinking of.”

“Could we try something with pizza boxes again?” Ron asked. “The old knuckle sandwich?”

Harry looked at him in confusion. “Why do you keep talking about pizza boxes?”

“Because of the thing with the-“ Ron began to explain, “never mind. Look, how about we just hit him with a ton of CGI and hope he forgets to use his powers properly at the last minute, just in time for us to all complete our character arcs!”

“That’s not how real life works!" Hermione answered in frustration, "Look to defeat an overpowered villain what we need is an overpowered hero."

“Well we are wizards,” Harry pointed out, “have we tried using jelly legs jinx yet?”

“We need something more powerful even than jelly legs jinx,” Hermione answered, as everyone gasped in shock that such a thing could exist, “something that you just look at and go, ‘what the hell can’t it do?’”

They all wracked their brains for anything they might have encountered before that could possibly meet that description.

“Well nothing like that comes to mind,” Harry said.

“No I got nothing,” agreed Ron.

Hermione suddenly smacked herself on the head as the penny finally dropped. She grabbed Ron’s hand as she screamed triumphantly in his face, “Ron, we need a red vine!”

“Of course!” he declared, “But Hermione, they don’t have them in any of the vending machines on the planet, and I finished the ones I bought with me while Rumbleroar was still singing ‘Welcome’.”

Hermione’s heart fell as her last hope failed her, but Seamus was not so quick to give up.

“Do youse lot reckon a strawberry lace might do the trick?” he asked pulling a pack of long red sweets out of his back pocket, "sort of a British red vine if you will."

Ron and Harry eyed the packet suspiciously, like a pair of cats meeting a dog for the first time.

“Let’s have a look,” Ron said, taking one out of the pack and giving it a sniff. "And these are just British red vines you say?" he asked, still sceptical of the concept.

"More or less," Seamus replied.

Ron slowly raised the candy to his lips and cautiously took the smallest of nibbles, but as soon as the sweet sensation of a strawberry lace made contact with his tongue he instantly felt weak at the knees as he gave a moan of animalistic glee. “Oh my god these are good!” he declared.

“May I?” Harry asked, taking one from the bag for himself, and making the exact same noise Ron had as he took a bite. “Oh my god these are so good!”

Ron went back for another one, his eyes rolling back into his skull with pleasure as he vanished the lace in one bite. As he started eating his third one, he shook his head, starring at the candy in disbelief. “What the fuck can’t these do?!” he proclaimed, “Okay, let’s go kill Bogsy!”

"Um, do you guys think that maybe we should come up with a back up plan just in case?" Hermione asked tentatively.

"No, we've got the red vines, we'll be fine," Harry answered.

"Okay and if those don't work? I just think we should discuss an emergency strategy or something?”

Harry walked up to Hermione and clasped his hand on the shoulder, looking deep into her eyes as he said with full sincerity. "If that doesn't work, well then I'm Harry fucking Potter, I mean what the fuck's he gonna do?"

Just as Hermione looked ready to protest again, Ron grabbed her by the hand and reiterated, "we've got this, we've got the red vines or strawberry vines or whatever they’re called.” Seeing Hermione’s gaze soften he turned to the rest of the gang and exclaimed “Let’s go kill Bogsy!”

At Ron’s pronouncement they all marched around the stage together as they moved about the castle in search of their foe. Their hearts were full of hope and naive optimism that their plan would prevail, as they skipped merrily about. As they went, the furniture they had been sitting on was 'magically' cleared away, and somewhere in the confusion Seamus subtly walked off stage for reasons that would become clear later. They marched high and low, Ron still gleefully snacking on the strawberry laces, eventually slowing down as they entered one of the many empty classrooms in the Pigfarts castle.

Chapter Text

ACT 2 SCENE 6 - THOSE VOICES

The merry band of friends crept around the stage in circles as they continued their hunt, much as Dumbledore had done only a few hours earlier. They peered round the sides of the curtains and mimed looking in several invisible objects, including a box, a wardrobe and an even an invisible car. It was just as Dean had finished turning out his pockets on the off chance that Bogsy was hiding in there that he threw his hands up in defeat.

“Okay come on man, we’ve looked everywhere, he’s probably just fucked off to Jupiter for a holiday or something! What are we actually looking for anyway, we don’t even know what he looks like. What are we expecting? A spooky ghost to just jump out at us?”

At this point, Ron and Harry noticed a figure draped in a white sheet with two eyeholes cut into it, edge onto the stage behind Dean, who continued to walk backwards obliviously.

“You know,” said Dean as Harry and Ron tried to call out and warn him, “at least in Ghostbusters they don’t need to spend half the film looking for the damn things they’re just there! And I ain’t afraid of no–“

Thud. Dean let out a high pitched yelp, almost as if he was just a girl in a hat, as he bumped into the child in the ghost costume. He turned around and ran to hide behind Professor Snake, who himself was now clinging onto Professor Shagrid, as they realised the nemesis they had been searching for had finally revealed itself.

Ron gripped Hermione’s arm, his knuckles white with terror as he prepared to face his reckoning again. She squeezed his hand in reassurance as she went over the plan in her head one more time, praying that it would be enough.

Harry on the other hand, who seemed to have entirely missed the context walked right up to the ghost who was waving its arms up and down in the air saying ‘ooOOooOOOOOooooo’. He reached inside his pocket and pulled out one of the strawberry laces they’d brought to take on Bogsy.

“You’re a bit late for Halloween, but I’m feeling nice so here have a Red Vine,” he said extending the candy to the ghost.

“Oh cheers mate,” answered the ghost in a perfectly normal voice, as it took the candy and walked off stage.

“No problem pall!” Harry called after it. He turned around and saw his friends were looking on at him in bewildered horror. “What?” he asked.

“Harry that was-“ Hermione began, but before she could finish the lights dimmed across the stage, and a voice that Ron knew all too well rang out across the stage.

“TRICK OR TREAT!”

Hermione grabbed Ron by the arm, and knew they need to act quickly before the creature could get into any of their heads.

“Quick Ron, get out the strawberry laces!” Hermione instructed.

With shaking hands, he slowly drew the packet from his trouser pocket and reached in to grab one only to find the packet was completely empty.

The bottom dropped out of his suspiciously full stomach. “Oh shit I think I ate them all already.”

“I am sorry, you ate them??”

“I don’t know they just tasted so good, and we spent like forever, like a whole 20 seconds looking for him, I must have just kept snacking. Harry you’ve got some though right?”

Harry turned out his pockets which were now just as empty as Ron's, “Oh shit I think I just gave the last one to that sweet innocent little kid we just met.”

“Well, what the fuck are we going to do now!?” declared Hermione who didn't even have the energy to be annoyed at her friends. “I said we needed a back-up plan!”

“Don’t worry,” Ron answered, although he was now seriously beginning to panic, “I’m sure Seamus has another pack we can use,” he looked around for Seamus, but for reasons that would become clear later he was nowhere to be seen.

Bogsy’s slow cackle rang out at an almost deafening volume. “Well then, if you don’t have any treats, we’ll just have to go for a trick instead!”

Ron briefly wondered if there was a way he could shit out the strawberry laces but right now his anal sphincter felt tighter than Grace Chasity’s vagina, whoever that was.

“Now who do we have here. Ron, my good friend, I’m surprised to see you coming back for more, and so soon! Was I not fwightening enough last time?”

“You can’t scare us, because we have each other!” Hermione declared in defence of her boyfriend who was now holding on very tightly indeed to her shoulder.

“Oh really Miss Granger. What if I told you I’ve seen your internet history?”

She put her hand over her mouth and leaped back several feet in horror as she remembered last night’s E rated enemies to lovers 50k, which she knew with all her heart that she would rather die than confess the plot of to another living soul.

“And Dean, it looks like you’re scared of being without your best friend Seamus, oh but would you look at that he’s already not here.”

“Wait where did he go?” Dean asked looking around him.

“That will become clear later. And you Professor Screwbeus Shagrid-“

“You can’t scare me ya wee bastard, I watched the Scotland-England euros game in a pub south of the border!”

“Haha yes very good, but what all of this shows to me is that none of you are thinking deep enough. None of you truly understand the scale of what I’m capable of. I AM FEAR!” he snarled.

Harry stepped forwards confidently, no longer content to watch his friends get bullied by a disembodied voice too cowardly to show itself. Sure, their red vine plan might not have panned out, but they would think of something. They always did.

“Yeh well I'm Harry fucking Potter!”

“Bro I thought you were Harry freaking Potter?” Dean asked.

“We’re 13 now, we can swear.” He stood defiantly as he drew his wand and pointed it at the ceiling, “Now I don’t care whatever mumbo jumbo magic bullshit you’ve got up your sleeve, we know none of it’s real so there’s nothing you can do to fuck with us.”

"All in good time Harry Potter, we'll get to you in a minute," Harry lowered his wand arm feebly, unseated by how little attention Bogsy seemed willing to pay his threat. "Now who's next? Ah yes poor old Slitherus Snake, what a fucking car crash you are."

Snake rolled his eyes. “Oh this is absurd. Riddikulus!”

A chilling laughter reverberated throughout the frosty air.

“Don’t be ridiculous, is something funny Slitherus? Why I haven’t even given you anything to work with yet. How about we start with an old flame.”

Snake looked around for a bit in confusion as the opening tinkle of Guys Like Potter played softly in the background. His eyes suddenly went wide with understanding as Arielle Goldman wearing a pair of dollar store Christmas reindeer antlers slowly emerged from behind the stage curtain.“Hello Slitherus,” said the deer woman, smiling up at him with kindly eyes.

He stared at her in shock, as she walked towards and tenderly took his hands in her own. “Silly Evans? But you’re dead” he asked hardly daring to believe his eyes that the woman he had loved was living and breathing once more.

“Who the fuck is that?” asked Harry, somewhat underwhelmed by how non-scary the sight of a shorter than average woman was. A small part of him felt like he recognised her from somewhere but he knew that couldn’t possibly be the case as he’d never encountered an anthropomorphic deer before.

Silly Evans brought Snake in for a hug, as everyone looked on in anticipation, knowing that whoever this woman was, at some point and in some way this scene had to turn nasty. Everyone that is, apart from Snake who felt more at ease in her arms than he had done in over a decade. He ran his fingers through her silky smooth hair as she hushed him comfortingly and stroked his hair back in kind.

“It’s okay,” she muttered softly into his shoulder, as he began to sob gently into hers. Everything from the smell of her hair and the feel of her foam antlers against the sides of his snake puppet, to the gentle thumping of her heartbeat next to his was exactly how he remembered it. He wished more than anything to be able to remove his invisible space suit so he reach out and kiss her.

Hermione stepped forward and tried to reason with him. “Professor I don’t know who this woman is, but she isn’t real! It’s just an allusion.”

“Shhhh,” said the woman, pressing her fingers to his lips, “don’t listen to them, listen to your heart, it’s me Slitherus. You know it’s me. Are you going to doubt me after everything, after everything you did to me?”

Any lingering doubt in Snake’s mind was washed away by the pitiful tone in her voice.

"Slitherus,” she continued, “there’s something very important that I need to tell you. I need you to listen to me and I need you to understand what I have to say.”

"Anything," he answered.

She wrapped him even tighter in her embrace as she continued softly, “I don’t forgive you.”

His heart sank like a marble in a lost game of kerplunk. He tried to ask what she meant, but found the words were stuck in his throat, also like kerplunk marbles.

“I don’t forgive you," she continued, "for how you treated me and I definitely don’t forgive you for what you did. You spent my whole life treating me like a possession that you could do whatever you wanted with. I never liked you, I always found you annoying and clingy, I just pretended to tolerate you because I, unlike you, am a nice person.”

What had once been a gentle hug had now morphed into an aggressive hold as her hands shook with quiet fury and Snake stood there trapped by a strength that seemed impossible to be coming from such a small woman.

“And look what I fucking got for it,” she continued mercilessly, “the second I tried to offer you some constructive criticism, your poor widdle baby heart couldn’t take it and you sold me out to die. But then I guess I shouldn’t have expected anything more from a Millwall supporter.”

“Okay that’s it,” Hermione declared walking forward with her wand out, trying to push the adrenaline to one side as she wracked her brain for a way to transform the scene before her into a joke. But before she could say anything Snake had pulled out his own wand and pointed it at her face.

“Don’t you dare fucking touch her!” he growled.

“Professor she’s not real, we have to try and transform her into something funny!”

“CRUCIO!” he yelled in desperation, as Hermione screamed for real this time. Ron instantly rushed to her side and Harry disarmed Snake as Hermione gasped for breath in Ron's trembling arms. The scene he had witnessed a few hours before, that he had sworn he would never allow to happen to the real Hermione had taken place.

Snake meanwhile, had fallen to his knees and begun to beg for forgiveness, but Silly Evan's verbal onslaught did not relent.

“You think you deserve my forgiveness just because you feel bad? That’s not how this works! You think you have the right to feel sorry for yourself? I don’t get to do that because I’m fucking dead! You as good as killed me! And while you go gallivanting around, having the audacity to grow feelings for that whore Shagrid, you think it’s all okay just because you occasionally look in a mirror and say ‘oh look at me I'm so sad’. You disgust me Slitherus and you always have. Always.”

She paused as he continued to sob and cower at her feet. Though her tone was as soft as ever her words stung like knives.

“Please-“ he muttered weakly, “I- I’ll do anything for you, I can change, we can- we can make things okay.”

“Butt trumpet, Butt trumpet, Butt trumpet!” she said with a smirk, as she ignored his pleas.

“Please I’m a Snake I don’t even have a butt!” he wailed.

She bent down to cradle his face in her hands. “Look at me I’m poor little Slitherus Snake with my poor little trumpeting butt.”

“Please stop!” he begged pathetically.

“I’m sorry but who the fuck is this?” Harry asked.

The deer woman turned towards him and adopted the kindly smile and warm voice she had first greeted Snake with. He was once again hit with the funny feeling that he knew her from somehwere, but couldn't place where.

“Hello Harry,” answered Silly Evans, “Don’t you recognise me?”

He thought for a bit before shaking his head, “No, absolutely no fucking clue.”

“How about if I remove the antlers” said the woman as she slowly took off the red, foam antlers. Harry’s eyes went wide as he recognised the woman he’d seen in the mirror of Erised two year previously.

“Mom?”

“Who the fuck is that?” Professor Snake asked, not recognising the woman now her antlers were removed.

“And it's not just me here Harry,” she said as a tall man with dark hair and glasses appeared and put his arm around her waist.

“Dad?” he asked in disbelief.

“Seamus?” asked Dean.

Snake, who had now moved away from the figures and was quivering on the floor in Shagrid’s arms looked at the new man quizzically as he tried to place his face, “You know if you had antlers, you'd look exactly like my arch-nemesis Lame Potter.”

Harry stepped forward, a voice in his head, or maybe it was Hermione, told him him not to trust them, but that voice was completely drowned out as he looked for the only the second time in his living memory into the smiling faces of his parents.

“Hello Harry,” James said with a kindly smile, “It’s so good to see you.”

He knew they weren’t real but the opportunity to talk to them, even a crude imitation of them was too much to resist. After all, the faces in the mirror hadn’t been real either, so surely this couldn’t be so different.

“Mom, dad? I have so many questions, I,” he paused not even knowing where to begin. There was a lifetime of information to be exchanged, he wanted to know everything about them, everything about how they had met, what they were like as kids, what things had been like when he was a baby, how they laughed how they smiled. And likewise there was a million things about his own life that he wanted them to know about, he wanted to tell them about everything he had accomplished, who he was now, and above all he needed to know that they were proud of him.

He felt Ron’s hand on his shoulder. “Harry,” he said, “they’re not real you have to get away from them.”

“Ron do not get in my way, I swear I will jelly legs jinx you,” he warned him. He couldn’t understand why Ron would want to take this moment away from him.

“Harry please, he’s done this to me too, you have to listen to me.”

“I’m warning you!” he shouted as Ron continued to tug at his arm to try and drag him away. “JELLY LEGS JINX!” he cried, instantly feeling bad as he saw Ron fall to the floor with his legs wobbling around like jelly.

Ron wormed his way back to Hermione, looking at Harry in shock at what he’d just done.

“Fuck what was the counter curse again?” Ron asked once he’d made his way back to her.

“Un-jellify,” she answered, causing his legs to cease their movements.

Harry looked round at them and thought about running to them to apologise, but his mom grabbed him gently by the shoulder and softly turned him to face her again.

“Don’t worry about them,” she said with a voice as soft and sweet as he had always imagined. He found himself leaning into her warm embrace as she moved closer to wrap her arms around him. As she comforted him he could feel the guilt of what he’d done to Ron ease away. It was such a wonderful sensation to be held like this. He felt the urge to cry as he realised he hadn’t even known he’d been missing this.

“They could never understand what this means to you.” she continued, You know, you look so different to when we last saw you.”

“Well, it’s been 13 years, I guess I must have grown up a bit,” he joked.

“Yes,” she said as she stroked the hair on his head which was on her shoulder. “Not as much as you probably should have though.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look at you, defeater of Voldemort, Dumbledore’s golden boy, the kid who put a dragon to sleep with only 3 chords - you really do think you’re something don’t you?”

“I- I don't understand?”

Lilly took his hand, “While it really is lovely to see you, I guess we’d sort of hoped you’d turn out a bit… different.”

He wanted to pull away from her, but she was now holding on impossibly tight and he couldn’t quite seem to do it. “Different how?”

“You’re kind of a joke Harry,” she said, her smile turning to a sneer as her words began to drip with venom. “You act like you’re this really cool guy, but you only have two friends, and both of them prefer each other to you.”

“I- I have a girlfriend too.”

“Yes, you managed to bag Ron’s little sister when the girl you were actually interested in rejected you, congratulations, you finally managed to find someone more pathetic than you are, and even then she's only with you for the sex. You go around being a dick to everyone you’ve decided you’re better than, Malfoy, Barry, Cedric but everyone knows you’re just projecting. You treat people like that because deep down you know that you’re the real the spare. You’re like a sad little puppy that people drag around, indulging your stupid little tricks because they feel too bad to put you out of your misery.”

“Harry, they’re not real don’t listen to them,” Ron pleaded from the floor, “you’re not like a dog to us, me and Hermione would never chop off your balls.”

“Dad, do you feel this way too?”

James Potter reluctantly nodded as he too began to join in the . “It’s the guitar as well - no one likes a guitar guy Harry. Wonderwall is old. Your mom's right, you're a joke Harry, and sometimes I’m glad I died so I don’t need to feel responsible for the way you’ve turned out.”

He looked at the floor and paused to collect himself before responding. “Why are you, why are you saying all of this?” he breathed deep to steady himself as he shut his eyes tight, “This isn’t real. I know this isn’t real. This is a trick and I know my real parents would never say anything like this.”

“No you don’t. You have no fucking idea what we would say. You’ve never met us, all you know about us is that we can harmonise with that stupid song you and Sirius sang. You’ve decided to concoct some comforting little fantasy for yourself where we love you and we’re proud of you. But that’s not based on anything, you’ve just made that up. Take a look at yourself, what is there to be proud of?”

His mother stepped forwards once more. “And the truly insidious thing is that you use this deluded fantasy to absolve yourself of responsibility for your actions. You’ve decided you can behave however you like, because you can just tell yourself that no matter what we’d always love you and be proud of you, but that’s not how real life works.”

He wanted to scream fuck you because deep down he knew they weren’t real, he knew this was just Bogsy’s trick and all he had to do was think of something funny, whip out his wand and say riddikulus. But trick or not Bogsy was right that he couldn’t disprove what they were saying. So instead of all that he sank to the floor, feeling more lost than ever as the emotional safety net he had always cocooned himself in was ripped out from beneath him.

The image of his parents continued to stare down at him coldly, unmoved by his quivering before them.

“You really have managed to make our deaths so convenient for you,” James continued.

“That’s not true,” Harry whispered.

“You can lie to yourself but you can’t lie to us. Here, we’ll show you.”

“What do you-“

Suddenly, a beautiful topless man, with a rippling six pack, heavily drawn cheekbones and slicked back dyed-grey hair emerged from behind the curtain. His eyes gleamed maniacally as he strutted around the stage, holding a ginormous wand (which based on the look of the tights which adorned his bottom half was not even compensating for anything).

“Holy crap it’s fucking you-know-who,” Dean yelled.

“Who?” Shagrid asked as he saw Dean run round his ankles to join Snake in his hiding spot.

Ron and Hermione also gripped onto each other more tightly at the sight of the villain they had only narrowly defeated a few years prior.

“Did you miss me?!” Voldemort asked, looking out at all of them, as he stuck his tongue out wildly and gave an unhinged cackle. “AVADA KEDAVRA!”

Voldemort slashed his overlarge wand through the air as a bright green light flashed across the stage and Harry’s parents fell to the floor. Voldemort cackled as he surveyed the corpses at his feet, gently pushing their heads back and forth with his tap shoes.

“Wait shit, Quirrell?” he asked staring down at James Potter’s dead body, before brushing the similarity aside. The evil grin reappeared on his face, as he knelt down and confronted a now trembling Harry.

“This was all your fault you know,” he said as he continued to nudge the corpses with his feet. “I had to kill them so you could have the glory of killing me. Just remember that next time you’re feeling pleased with yourself. Remember everyone you had to trample over to get there. I’ll see you around Potter, Voldemort out bitches!” He walked off stage, spanking his own ass on the way out, as Harry was left to stare at the dead bodies and Snake tearfully sobbed into a loose pair of antlers at the side.

“Why are you doing this?” Harry asked into the air. “I thought you were supposed to feed off fear and you're not making me scared you're just making me sad.”

The lights dimmed as the dead bodies disappeared and the disembodied voice of Bogsy returned.

“And doesn't that just scare the fucking shit out of you,” it said. “I must admit I'm having a lot of fun with you! Harry Potter, the boy who lived, not scared of a dragon, not scared of Voldemort, not even scared of death, but fucking terrified of himself. Yes, confronting your emotions, being humiliated in front of your peers, now that fucking terrifies you and fuck me does it taste, mmmmmm... delicious. See what all of you need to learn is that it doesn’t matter how brave, how loyal or how smart you think you are. I will win in the end.”

Suddenly the side door flung open to reveal two men, one in a military uniform with long ginger hair and a beret, and the other a dark-haired man in a denim jacket who trailed behind him and had an unsettling look on his face

“I wouldn’t be so confident of that if I were you!” The ginger man in the beret announced confidently.

“Hello ‘Bogsy’,” added the second man in an evil drawl, making air quotes as he said the creatures name. “Surprised to see us?”

“Oh you motherfucker!” said Bogsy

The first man drew a knife from his belt as he declared in a bombastic tone: “With this blade of truth I cast you from this place!”

“Fuck. Off.” added the other to hammer the message home.

“YOU WILL SEE ME AGAIN!” Bogsy roared, with a touch of fright in his voice that seemed to channel itself into anger.

Warm lighting came back up on the stage as they felt the creatures presence leave and were left to looking at each other in the aftermath of all that had just happened.

“What? Who are you?” Harry asked, as they all stared up at their rescuers dumbfounded.

“You three,” said the dark-haired man pointing at Harry, Ron and Hermione, “I think we need to have a little chat.”

“Thank you for rescuing us, um sir?” Hermione added noticing the military uniform, “but I don’t understand - who are you?”

“Are you the space cops?” Ron asked in awe.

“No we’re not the-“ The dark-haired man began before growling and shaking his head in anger.

“My name is General John MacNamara and this is my associate Wilbur Cross. We work for an organisation that deals in Paranormal, Extra-Terrestrial and Interdimensional Phenomena. Known as PEIP for short,” he paused. “It's just me and a couple of my peeps."

Wilbur pinched his forehead as he sighed in frustration "Please stop saying that, I hate it when he says that."

"And Hermione you don’t need to thank us," General MacNamara continued, "you were the one that sent for us after all.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

“Come with us and we’ll explain everything.”

Everyone got up and followed the two new men off stage. Dean and Snake were the last to leave and as they were on their way out, Dean turned to him and asked, “Yo did that woman say you support Millwall? Dude What the fuck”

“Do we have to do this now?” he answered still reeling from the emotional attack.

Once they had all left the stage, as the lights dimmed Ron could be heard calling out to Wilber, "Hey, why do we look the same?"

“I’ll explain later!” he snapped back.

Chapter Text

ACT 2 SCENE 7 – I AM AUTHORISING YOU TO USE MY FIREARM

After the attack General MacNamara and Wilber Cross led Harry, Ron and Hermione to an empty classroom where they sat hoping they would at long last hear some answers. The atmosphere in the room was tense. MacNamara paced about as if he was waiting for something, although exactly what he was waiting for they weren’t sure. They noticed there was a gun visible in the holster around his waist. Similarly, Wilber was sat with his legs looped around the back of a chair as he stared directly at them as he slowly and aggressively bit chunks out of an unnaturally green apple. Where the general seemed at the very least well meaning if a little disconcerting, this man with his piercing stare and slight smirk was downright uncomfortable to look at.

Harry however was feeling too numb to his surroundings to care. After the attack he was feeling exposed and vulnerable like never before. Throughout everything: Voldemort, Umbridge and even that weird thing with Lucius Malfoy that hadn’t made sense until second year, he’d found strength in the memory of his parents and the knowledge that whatever happened they would be proud of him. But now all of that was gone, and how do you trust yourself when the foundations you’ve built your life upon have grown shakey.

“We don’t have very long,” MacNamara began after a very long while. “This is not our dimension and bad things happen when you spend too much time in the wrong dimension. First things first let us synchronise our time pieces.”

“Oh let me just get out my pocket sundial,” Ron said pulling a small plastic device out of his pocket.

MacNamara studied him for a second, as he tried to decide whether this was an acceptable device for measuring time, the most precious thread in the fabric of the universe. “I’ll allow it,” he concluded.

“So, I bet you’re wondering who we are, how we got here, what the hell P.E.I.P. is and what the fuck any of this has to do with your boggart?”

A few hours ago Harry would have been if not desperate, certainly interested in the answers to these questions but right now they were far from the most pressing ones on his mind.

Hermione however, was perched right at the edge of her seat as she practically vibrated with anticipation.

“Yes!” she exclaimed, “Are you two wizards?”

“No, but we know about a lot more magic than you do. My name is General Jon MacNamara, and I used to work for a branch of the United States military known as P.E.I.P., it was just me and couple of my peeps. But now, I live in the swirling void of psychic energy that exists outside of your reality called the Black and White,” he sighed morosely, “with none of my peeps.”

“Hang on,” Hermione remarked as the name rang a bell, “the black and white? Isn't that the place Professor Hidgens was talking about: the space between dimensions. That’s where Webby lives!”

“Exactly, your friend Professor Hidgens is from a town called Hatchetfield and like many people from that town he has something called the gift which allows him to communicate with creatures from the Black and White, including Webby. I’ve been trapped there for the past few years, ever since I first entered it to try and stop one of Webby’s brothers, an evil creature called Wiggog Y’Wrath, from destroying an alternate version of earth.”

“And got trapped there when I went there to help him destroy it,” Wilber said with a southern draw and an evil chuckle, before he caught his friend’s glare, “but I, uh, don’t do that sort of thing anymore,” he added sheepishly as he went back to giving them devil eyes at them, as he bit slowly and purposefully down on a lurid green apple.

“It was Webby who sent us to come help you,” MacNamara continued, “You were correct that this is not an ordinary Boggart, and he must be destroyed at all costs. Time is of the essence. He’s been lying dormant for a while, banished from this place, but someone must have brought him back and now he’s learning the full extent of his power and regaining his strength. Once he’s done that he will destroy everything here and then he will set his sights on Earth, and once he’s there may God help us all.”

The atmosphere in the room chilled, going from doom to despair as the gravity of their situation became apparent.

“But don’t worry,” MacNamara continued after pausing for long enough to give them time to worry, “we have a plan that will help you stop him before its too late. But first let me explain how we ended up in this mess. Have any of you ever heard of a company called CCRP?”

“Yes!” Hermione cried, “Professor Hidgens mentioned it when they were rehearsing for the school musical. He said it was a company from his town on Earth.”

MacNamara suddenly whipped his head around as a worried looked dawned across his face. “The school musical?” he asked with concern, “It’s not called ‘Working Boys’ is it?”

Wilbur pinched the bridge of his knows as he muttered, “Jesus fucking Christ. Do not let him put that shit on.”

MacNamara looked more frightened and determined than he had done at any point so far in the conversation as he leaned in close to Hermione and urged her. “Listen to me, I am being deadly serious when I say that you must not under any circumstances let him put that musical on.”

“Why?” she asked “Does it have something to do with Bogsy?”

It would make sense, she thought, everything relating to Professor Hidgens seemed to lead back to Bogsy, and if his songs came from Webby then who knew what secret messages or powers they could contain. Not to mention how peculiar it seemed to her that everyone was so enamoured by a musical that based on what she’d heard earlier, outside of an admittedly catchy title number, was not particularly good.

“No it’s just a really fucking shit musical.” Wilber answered, “I- I wish I could explain to you how bad this musical is, it’s like, do you remember the cats movie? Well it’s that but, it’s so much worse.” He shook his head as he tried to brush what he’d seen of the timelines where working boys was allowed to be put on to the back of his mind.

“Anyway, let’s not dwell on such unpleasant topics,” MacNamara said. “Back to the eldritch horror that’s about to kill us all and destroy the universe. Have you ever wondered why Mars seems to be almost entirely populated by sentient animals with suspiciously similar names to people you know from Earth?”

Hermione nodded eagerly, as Ron looked up in surprise, as it did seem a bit weird now that he mentioned it. Harry, however, continued to stare glumly down at the floor.

“Well, Pigfarts wasn’t originally a school,” MacNamara began to explain, “everything you see around us started out as a science experiment. CCRP is a very large and very shadowy corporation that is willing to engage in any manor of heinous activity to turn itself a profit. Whoever has the gold makes the rules you see and in order to avoid the prying eyes of governments they have a habit of carrying out some of their more unscrupulous experiments off world, and this place you call Pigfarts was originally nothing more than a CCRP research facility.”

Hermione gasped and turned to look at Harry and Ron. “The store cupboard!” she cried, as she remembered what exactly Professor Hidgens had said about the company.

They looked at her blankly.

“You know, Professor Hidgens said he found that cupboard that said CCRP on it and had a bunch of stuff from Hatchetfield or whatever it’s called. That will have been leftover from the research facility. Come on guys the store cup-, nevermind,” she said, sitting back down as Harry and Ron’s faces showed no sign of recognition.

“Now back on earth,” MacNamara continued, “CCRP was the undisputed world leader in human cloning technology, but they only managed to get to that point because of their early experiments here on Mars. They took DNA samples of people on Earth and built clones of them up here while they were still ironing out the technology. And many of the people who’s DNA was involved in that first batch of clones were from what you would call the wizarding world.”

“But why?” Ron asked.

“Did you ever wonder why your little friend Draco Malfoy was the only person at Hogwarts who was aware of Pigfarts’ existence?” Wilber answered, “After all CCRP went to a lot of effort to hide their dirty little secret.”

“He’s not our friend,” Harry said at the same time as Hermione said, “Hmmm I don’t know.”

“And how did you get to Mars?” Wilber continued, “Human inter-planetary travel shouldn’t be possible yet.”

“We used the rocket ship that Malfoy found in his dad’s office oh-,” Hermione answered.

“Exactly,” MacNamara answered. “Fresh out of wizard college Lucius Malfoy took a job as a magic consultant to CCRP. They’re willing to pay quite a bit of money to people who can help them create new magic infused intellectual property.”

“His dance career wasn’t exactly paying the bills,” Wilber explained.

“Okay, that sort of makes sense but where did all the animals come from.”

“I was just getting to that part,” MacNamara said before pausing for so long that they began to wonder whether he would ever get to that part. “Even once they’d successfully concluded their cloning experiments those greedy bastards still weren’t content to stop there. One day CCRP got their hands on a copy of some pages from the Black Book, a very ancient and powerful book of spells that can have disastrous effects in the wrong hands. Through your education at Hogwarts you will know that there are some types of magic, like the kind used to make horcruxes, that can touch the soul, but wizards like you don’t know the fullest depths of that magic, because that is the domain of witches. From the book they were able to attempt the art of soul transference, the ability to transfer a human’s soul out of its body and into another vessel. Now reports of human transference into inanimate objects are easy to find if you know where to look. Cars, for instance, seem to be a popular one, but CCRP wanted to go one step further and find out if it was possible to transfer a human’s soul into an animal body. Always keen to tie up loose ends they carried out these experiments using the souls of the plentiful stock of human clones they had up here on Mars, so they shipped up a bunch of animals and decided to play God, and well you can see the results for yourselves.”

“Oh it all makes sense now!” Hermione exclaimed, as Ron wondered if anything had ever made less sense in his life.

“Sorry I’m super lost, can I get a quick tldr?” he asked.

“They cloned some people from earth and then transferred their consciousness into animals using spells from the Black Book,” Wilber summarised.

“Oh, okay great cheers.”

“But that brings us to your current situation,” MacNamara continued as his face fell into grave solemnity. “Because while they were doing these experiments they created something else. You see CCRP weren’t just content with testing on regular animals, they also wanted to experiment on magical creatures, and one of the magical creatures that Lucius helped them procure was a simple, innocent, little Boggart. And this probably would have been fine were it not for the consciousness that they decided to encase in his body. One day while out for a moon walk they stumbled upon a green doll that had been discarded behind a crater. A talking doll, that kept saying the same sentence over and over again: Tickle my tummy wum”

“Huh?”

“They didn’t know how it got there, or even how old it was, they probably assumed it was some sort of fetish thing. But some mere fetish thing it was not; that doll was one of the most powerful and most evil creatures in the universe. A Lord in Black.”

He paused, expecting recognition but Harry, Ron and Hermione’s faces showed none as they looked up at him quizzically.

“You don’t even know about the lords in black?” MacNamara asked.

“What the hell are they teaching youin that wizard school?” asked Wilber.

The three of them mumbled back incoherently as even Hermione struggled to verbalise what it was they were actually taught at Hogwarts in between all the wacky hijinks and saving the world.

“It’s mostly like spells and shit.”

“Jelly legs jinx and-”

“Lumos? I think lumos is one”

“God Hogwarts really has gone to the dogs,” MacNamara commented, “no wonder you wanted to transfer to Pigfarts. The Lords in Black are five evil brothers who come from the black and white. Bliklotep, T'noy Karaxis, Nibblenephim, Pokotho and Wiggog Y'wrath and you do not under any circumstances want to mess with them.

“Nibbly’s not so bad he’s basically just a big mouth,” Wilber added with a villainous wink.

“They should have left it right there and then,” MacNamara continued ignoring the interruption, “But CCRP never have been able to stop themselves from sticking their grubby little fingers into things they can’t possibly understand. So they took the doll back to their facilities and they used the soul transference spell to create an abomination: the mind of a Lord in Black trapped in the body of a boggart.”

“And that’s what Bogsy is,” Hermione said nodding along as everything finally made sense to her.

“Exactly. Once they’d gotten everything they wanted from the experiments they no longer had the need to maintain their secret research base on Mars. They wiped the memories of their test subjects and left them here, assuming that they would cannibalise each other before ultimately starving to death, but they were wrong. The people here, the creatures born out of cruel and twisted experiments instead came together and did something that an entity so heartless as CCRP could not have expected. They showed kindness. They worked with each other to not just survive but to thrive, eventually turning this place into a school. Sure, a weird school where no one learns anything and nothing makes any sense, but nonetheless a home and a family for all those who needed it. They took the cruel steel labs in which they were made and turned turned it into something extraordinary.”

“And then they called it Pigfarts,” said Wilber.

“But the whole time the monstrous beast they had unwittingly created lied in waiting. Almost immediately he began exhibiting dangerous behaviour so the researchers took him away to the far side of the planet, hoping that by keeping him isolated, away from people’s fears and worries that they could starve him. But someone must have brought him back inside. He’s been in hibernation for so long but he’s steadily regaining his strength. Professor Cornwallis was probably what made him start to realise who he was and what he was capable of and now with each attack he only grows stronger. It won’t be long before he decides to set his sights towards Earth, and if he gets there then there will be nothing and no one that can hold him back.”

Everyone in the room fell silent as the general finished his story and the full extent of the situation they were in became clear to them. This was it. Yet again the entire world was at stake and everything was down to them to save it. Ron knew full well that the only reason he had escaped Bogsy the first time was because he was still not yet at full strength but if he was nearing that now then there was no telling what he could do, and what he could do to them if they didn’t stop him fast.

Harry took a deep breath and looked up from the floor. “Am I understanding this correctly,” Harry asked in a tone of desparation. “Are you saying that Larry Smotter is an exact genetic clone of me? Like he’s my brother” he scrunched his face up in disgust as he tried not to cringe. “Because if so I don’t- what does that make me? What does that say about me?” he asked.

MacNamara looked at him taken aback, confused that this in particular was the issue that Harry found the most pressing, but right now Harry didn’t much care.

“Transferring a soul from one vessel to another, especially if the technology isn't fully ready, will leave it changed,” MacNamara explained looking Harry in the eye for any sign that he’d misunderstood the question. “Core parts of your personality can become warped, there was a case study of a woman in Hatchetfield who had her soul transferred into a car and went on a homicidal rampage against her-”

“No I’m sorry how the fuck is this your main take away here?” Hermione demanded as Harry looked poised to continue his sulk, “we have just found out that the earth may be about to be destroyed, and you’re seriously worried you might have something in common with a guy you don’t like?”

“I think we should just leave,” Harry said, “I’m being serious, Bogsy keeps saying there’s nothing we can do to stop him. and maybe he’s got a point.”

Hermione stood up now positively enraged. “Were you not listening to any of that? What if he follows you to Earth?”

“We can just let the wizard cops handle it,” Harry answered.

“There is no one on Earth who can hold strong against the consciousness of Wiggog Y’wrath. Not even the wizard cops. Once he’s down there nothing on heaven or earth will be able to hold back the forces of hell he will spill over.”

“Hold on, Wiggog Y’wrath? Isn’t that the creature you said you stopped?” Hermione asked.

A genuine tear formed in MacNamara’s eye as he looked away into the distance seeming a mere shadow of the boisterous, confident man he had been so far. “I tried to stop him,” he explained,” but I did not succeed.”

“If you couldn’t stop him then how the fuck are we supposed to?” Harry asked.

“With this,” MacNamara said, collecting himself together and pulling a hand-gun off his belt which he spun round to present to them hilt first. “I am authorising you to use my firearm.”

Ron carefully took the gun from him and began to admire it in open mouthed awe. “Oh my wizard god, this is so fucking awesome! Every wizard should have a gun not these piece of shit wands, or that piece of shit sword Dumbledore gave us.”.

“A gun?” Hermione asked skeptically, looking at what appeared to be nothing more than an ordinary handgun. “How can we kill something that has no defined physical form with a gun?”

“This is not just any gun. Wilber and myself have spent the past two years travelling the vast expanse of the black and white in search of a weapon that can kill a Lord in Black.”

As MacNamara continued to explain the plan to Hermione, Ron, still overwhelmed by the incredible feeling of style and power that holding a gun in his hands was giving him, began to test out the trigger. He pointed it away from them and began to fire off a few rounds, pulling cool action poses and saying ‘bang bang’ as he did.

“This is a gun filled with bullets of grayskull, forged using magic from the black book,” MacNamara continued, trying his best to be heard over Ron’s gunshots, “to get them we have journeyed across dimensions, through mist and shadow, we have travelled far beneath the witchwood and stared deep into the thousand eyes to get hold of them. But with the unique power that they contain, they alone will be able to defeat your foe.”

As Ron continued to fire off rounds, eventually he realised that the only sound was coming from his own mouth as the gun had run out of bullets. “Oh shit, do you have any more?”

MacNamara took angry strides towards Ron as his face blew into a murderous rage.

“Are you for fucking real?!” he exclaimed as he wrenched the now empty gun back off Ron and shoved him down. Wilber buried his face in his hands, as he took deep breaths and counted slowly to ten to try and quell the murderous rage that reared within him.

“Well what the fuck are we going to do now?!” Harry exclaimed, “because I am not going back out there without a weapon or a really fucking watertight plan!”

Everyone fell silent as they thought long and hard for a while, but they had already been thinking long and hard about this for a while. They had tried red vines, they had tried Dumbledore, they had tried brute force but everything had ended in the same result. Maybe Bogsy was right and there was nothing they could do to stop him. Maybe this was inevitable.

“How about we try the pizza box trick?” Ron suggested.

“Can you please shut up about pizza boxes!” Harry growled.

“Well look, Boggarts can be defeated by laughter, and it shouldn’t matter whose soul is living in its body, it will still be limited by the physical constraints of its form, right?” Hermione asked.

“Right!” MacNamara confirmed.

“So at the end of the day we just need to treat it like a regular boggart and transform it into something funny.”

“Oh that’s all we need to do is it?” Harry snapped as the red mist descended. “I’ll bear that in mind next time I’m watching my dead parents tell me how much of a fucking joke I am.”

“Harry please,” she begged, “nothing he said was true, he was just playing on your insecurities”

“I’m Harry freaking Potter, I don’t have insecurities!”

Hermione gave a long hard sigh as she buried her face in her hands. “Oh my wizard-“ she muttered. “It’s just how it operates, it works out what we’re afraid of and becomes that thing, that was just Bogsy messing with you.”

“That doesn’t matter though when everything he was saying was true.” And learning that Larry Smotter was his clone was really just the icing on the cake as far as proving that was concerned.

“It wasn’t true, he did the exact same thing to Ron and Dumbledore! I know that you’re upset but you need to see the bigger picture here.”

“Oh I need to see the bigger picture do I? Why, why do I always have to be involved? Why can’t you do something for a change”

“Why don’t I do something?!” she asked flabergasted, “I have done fucking everything since we got here! I was the only one out of us three to realise that something was up and actually try and take it seriously. I was the one who got Hidgens to reach out to Webby.”

“Well then it sounds like you’ve got it covered!” he snapped “Fuck this I’m out of here, I’m leaving and I hope you two have a wonderful time here on Mars without me”

He moved to leave but Wilber physically grabbed him by the scruff of his collar and dragged him back down to his seat. “If you leave he will follow you to earth and kill fucking everyone! Wiggly destroyed our entire reality. That’s why we can never go back! And unlike Jon I didn’t get stuck in the black and white while nobly trying to save the earth, I went there of my own free will to help Wiggly destroy it. I aided and abetted in the murder of 7 billion people and trust me you do not want that on your conscious.”

Harry looked up at him in slightly scared confusion, “dude what the fuck.”

“I was angry and disillusioned, my relationship with P.E.I.P. had grown... strained. To say the least, and Wiggly took that hurt and betrayal and he turned me into his puppet. He convinced me to do unspeakable things and I will never be able to take that back. All I can do now is try my fucking hardest to make sure that humanity is never wiped out on account of one man’s hubris again. Bogsy must be stopped, and he cannot under any circumstances be allowed to get to earth. I don’t give a fuck if you don’t want to help with that,” he growled. “But I am not going to allow you to leave while he’s still at large, and so help me I will tie you to this goddam fucking chair if that’s what it takes.”

“He killed everyone,” MacNamara said solemnly, “my entire family, all of my friends. My husband. And not only did I fail to stop him, but I delivered him the weapon he needed to do it. He’s right, you do not want to feel responsible for the deaths of the people you love.”

Harry was stunned into silence. Of course he didn’t want to be responsible for their failure, of course he didn’t want the world to end on his account. But right now he didn’t exactly see what he, a good for nothing teenager who’d just got his ass handed to him could do stop it.

“There’s an old saying on bug world,” MacNamara continued unhelpfully.

“What the fuck is bug world?” Harry asked.

“The needs of the many bugs, outweigh the needs of the few or the one bug.”

“What the fuck is he talking about?” Harry asked, beginning to feel concerned about the general’s sanity. “I’m not a bug. Are you a bug?”

“Harry, ignore all of that,” Ron said, grabbing him by the hands. “What would Zac Effron say at a time like this?”

Harry sighed and reluctantly mumbled “We’re all in this together.”

“Exactly,” Ron encouraged, “and what’s the next line?”

“Once we know that we are we're all stars and we see that we're all in this together.” Harry answered without missing a beat.

“And it shows when we stand hand in hand make our dreams come true,” Ron continued. “And what does that mean?”

Harry shook his head blankly. It was Zeffron for wizards god’s sake – the lyrics didn’t need to make sense.

“It means that we don’t exist in isolation. What defines us isn't the idea that we have of ourself in our own heads, it’s about how we connect to each other. It’s about how we work together.” he explained. “I understand why you’re upset, you feel like you don’t know who you are anymore. You’re worried that what he said was true, that you’re a joke and a loser, and none of that’s true, none of that’s ever been true, but if you want to make sure it’s not then you’ve got to prove him wrong. We need you, we literally need you to beat this thing. It’ll be harder for it to hit all of us at the same time so the more of us there are the better the chance we have to stop it. But maybe at the end of the day it’s not about whether we can win it’s about trying our hardest to do the right thing. Because this, giving up, this isn’t you. And Zac Effron if he were here with us today would say the same damn thing.”

Harry shut his eyes and inhaled deeply as he let Ron’s words sink in. “Okay I’m in,” he said. “What’s the plan?”

“Do you want to save the planet?” MacNamara asked.

Harry smiled at Ron and Ron smiled back. “Of course we want to save the planet,” he answered.

“Then you’re going to have to learn to laugh! All jokes rely on a few fundamental principles: contrast, dissonance, surprise, a humorous play on words. All you need to do is leverage those principles in the face of mortal peril and the torment of your worst nightmares to achieve victory.”

“Oh is that all we have to do?” Harry answered sarcastically, but with none of his earlier disilusionment.

“Life is hard.” MacNamara said as he put one knee up on the bench and stared profoundly into space for a long while. Just as he’d paused long enough for them to consider asking if he had anything to add to that, he picked up and continued. “They say the only certainties in life are death and taxes. But there are many more things I would add to that list. Sadness, grief, heartache all of these things are inevitabilities for us all. In the end we’ll all be left as nothing more than fading memories that must themselves pass into the dust.”

“Is this supposed to be helping us laugh,” Ron asked looking incredibly uncomfortable, “because it’s really not doing that”

“And yet despite knowing all of this, we still laugh. Every time we laugh, we’re laughing in the face of sadness.”

They all looked on in silence trying to work how on earth that was supposed to help them actually think of a joke, while MacNamara continued to stare with profundity into the middle distance.

“Okay that’s good and all, but doesn’t leave us any closer to having a plan,” Hermione pointed out.

“It’s like Ron said we need to come at it as a group,” Harry reiterated, “because it’ll find it harder to target all of us at the same time.”

“It’s smart though, it seemed to know which of us was the biggest threat at any moment,” Hermione explained, “Do you remember? Professor Snake was the first one of us to try and use riddikulus so he targetted him first, and then when you tried to step forward it turned onto you.”

“Okay, so we need to be prepared for it to come after any of us,” Harry said with determination as he tried hard not to fall back into his earlier hopelessness. “How about we all prepare a joke about each others worst fears so that whoever it comes for, the others will be able to take it down. You’ve all just seen my worst fear,” he continued, sincerely hoping it wouldn’t come to having to face that again. “What would you transform that into to make you laugh?”

“I don’t know,” Ron answered, “and even if I could think of something I’d feel too bad to laugh at something that was being used to hurt you.”

“Come on guys," Harry implored, "the entire world's at stake if we don’t get this right, this isn’t the time for stepping on eggshells.”

“I don’t know I’d give your mom a funny hat or something?” Hermione suggested after a moment's thought.

“Wow Hermione my mom’s dead that’s really offensive."

“Yeh Hemione that is so rude,” Ron agreed. “Okay let’s try me. My worst fear was Hermione being tortured, Harry how would you make that into something funny?”

A few ideas began to float through his mind but they all went away as he looked up and caught the grim expression on Ron’s face, knowing that he was remembering his earlier encounter with Bogsy. He then looked to Hermione and seeing the fear and concern that was also in her eyes it became clear to him that he also cared too much about his friends to truly laugh in the face of their suffering.

“I don’t think I could do that,” he answered. “I think we’re all too connected in each other’s lives to make this work.

“I think what you need,” MacNamara suggested, “is a third party. But not just anyone, you need someone who doesn’t give a shit about you three or anyone else. You need someone so weird and emotionally stunted that they could laugh in the face of absolutely anything. What we need here is a real pathetic piece of shit.”

Harry, Ron and Hermione all looked at each other as they screamed in unison “Draco Malfoy!”

“Oh no shit wait,” Harry said as he realised the obviously flaw in this plan. “He’s madly in love with Hermione, so Bogsy will just start messing with her and then we’ll be back to square one again. Okay who do we know that’s worse? Who do we know that’s exactly like Draco, but even more of a pathetic piece of shit.”

The answer came to them at once, “Oh no!” Harry said, “Oh no no!”

“We need Larry Smotter,” Hermione stated.

Harry shook his head as he point blank refused the suggestion. If he hadn’t wanted anything to do with Larry before, he certainly didn’t now that he’d found out that that complete loser was his clone brother or whatever it was MacNamara had said.

“Surely there’s someone else we could use?” Harry bargained. “How about Professor Shagrid I don’t particularly give a shit about him?”

“But we also didn’t really give a shit about Professor Snake and we saw how well that turned out.” Hermione explained. “Using Larry is the perfect plan because either it’ll go after one of us and he’ll be able to laugh at it because he’s a complete knobhead, or it’ll go after him and we’ll be looking at a grown man screaming at a pig which is already quite funny.”

He couldn’t deny that the plan made logical sense, and he certainly felt much more comfortable trying to take on Bogsy again with a plan than without one, but his discomfort at the idea of involving Larry nevertheless persisted.

“Okay fine,” Harry eventually conceded, “but say we find Larry, how will we know it’s really him? Wouldn’t it make sense from Bogsy’s perspective to pretend to be him and trick us into thinking we have an ally?”

“Have you still got the Marauders map?” MacNamara asked. “Bogsy shouldn’t be able to control that.”

He drew a large piece of paper from his back pocket. “Yeh but we’re not at Hogwarts anymore,” he explained as he showed MacNamara the map of Hogwarts.

“Pigfarts is on the back.”

“Oh shit it’s Pigfarts!” he exclaimed as he turned over the piece of paper and saw the martian castle. “Oh look I see him, he's just outside the holodeck, eugh and he’s with Malfoy. The last time we saw him we weren’t exactly polite to each other, what are we even going to say to get him to agree to work with us?”

“You’ll have to figure that one out for yourselves I’m afraid,” MacNamara answered. “Time is of the essence and we can’t stay in this dimension much longer. But I know that if you stand tall and trust in yourselves then you will prevail. Do you have any final questions before we leave?”

Harry and Hermione both raised their hands to ask questions about the finer points of their strategy to defeat Bogsy, but it was Ron who got there first.

“Yeh why do we look the same?” he blurted out, pointing at Wilber Cross, who was still sat his chair as he menacingly chewed bites out of an apple.

Now that he pointed it out Harry and Hermione did both begin to notice some similarities in their appearances. While Wilber had dark hair that was longer and more slicked back than Ron’s, their height, frame and facial structure was remarkably similar.

“Have you ever heard of a man called Joey Richter?” Wilber asked.

“No who the fuck is that?”

“He’s a high school student on earth. A teenage boy, total loner, his best friend’s his cum sock, you know the type, but he came to P.E.I.P.’s attention a few years ago, when he did something truly extraordinary that no human has ever done before.”

“What did he do?” Hermione asked, now curious about where this was going.

“He rubbed magic weed on his dick that made it come to life.”

“Oh awesome!” Ron nodded as Hermione buried her face in her hands.

“That sort of thing happens a lot with weed grown in the Hatchetfield witchwood,” he explained. “One time it made all the birds come to life.”

“So, what does this guy Joey Richter guy have to do with me and you?” Ron asked.

“No idea, but there are a lot of us out there that look the same. In Hatchetfield alone there’s someone called Ted, a homeless guy, a local news reader, an obnoxious teenager, the front man of local indie rock group ‘Needy Beast’, and it goes back throughout history as well. We’ve found accounts from the American West in the late 1840s of an entire town called ‘Independence’ where every single person in the town looked like us. They also recently found the skeleton of a caveman preserved in ice that when they ran a facial reconstruction model on his bones also bore a remarkable resemblance that was too close to be a mere coincidence. We haven’t been able to work out what any of this means but we do know that this seems to have something to do with this guy called Joey Richter.”

“Okay cool,” Ron nodded, deeming this explanation more than satisfactory. “and I have one more question.”

“I thought time was of the essence,” Hermione grumbled.

“You guys are called peep right,” Ron continued, “is that the same company that does the marshmallows?”

“Interdimensional espionage doesn’t balance the books like it used to so we’ve had to branch out into other product offerings,” MacNamara explained.

“Look," Hermione began quickly, without even trying to raise her hand this time, as she saw Ron’s mouth open again to try and ask another question. “Are you guys sure you can’t stay with us for just a bit longer to help us defeat him? You seem significantly older and more qualified than us?”

“We’ve already stayed in this dimension longer than we should have done. There’s a Jon and a Wilber in this world already, and this reality is quite literally not big enough for the both of us. Besides I’m not sure how much help we’d be. This is a creature who’s destroyed by laughter, and I don’t think either of us have laughed since the 90s.”

“So what you’re just going to do lore drop and piss off,” she asked.

He clapped her on the shoulder and looked deep into her eyes “Exactly.”

“How do you even get back to the Black and White?” Hermione asked.

“Look at that door,” he said pointing at the stage door, “What if I told you it’s not a door.”

“I think I would be confused.”

“Or at least it’s not just a door. It’s a portal created by the starry children themselves, that if you know how to use it properly allows you to travel between dimensions.”

“But we’ve been through that door plenty of times?” Hermione asked, confused.

“If you know how to use it properly,” he repeated with more mystery but somehow less clarity than before. “Well then good luck!”

MacNamara stood with his back straight as a ramrod as he gave them a confident and proud salute. Ron saluted him back, but halted the gesture when he saw that Harry and Hermione were both looking quite perplexed.

“The fate of the world hangs on your shoulders,” MacNamara continued.

“Yeh do try not to screw this up,” Wilber added with a wry laugh.

With that the pair of them walked out through the door into whatever swirling mass they had came from, leaving Harry, Ron and Hermione behind. Once they were alone they looked around the room at each other, still uneasy but with a quiet and growing confidence. At least now they knew what they were facing and had the beginnings of a plan that might actually work.

“Okay,” Harry said with a gentle smile. “Let’s go find Larry, and then let’s kill this thing once and for all.”

Ron and Hermione smiled back as they stood up with him and shoulder to shoulder they walked off with a renewed sense of confidence and drive, to go complete their mission.

“By the way, did anyone else get the feeling that all of that couldn’t stay in this dimension stuff was complete bullshit?” Harry called out once they were headed off the stage.

Chapter Text

ACT 2 SCENE 8 - YOU'RE LARRY FREAKING SMOTTER

Meanwhile, somewhere in an empty classroom on Pigfarts, Draco Malfoy, the real Draco Malfoy, was pacing around the room like a military general with his arms folded across his chest as Larry sat on a bench looking up at him with a mixture of confusion and admiration that was realistically mostly confusion.

“Now if you want to defeat Lord Voldewarthog,” he said, “you’re going to have to listen very carefully to what I have to say. I’ve seen the Lion King at least twice so you best believe I know what I’m talking about when it comes to warthogs.” He paced up and down the stage, with his bum strutted out his butt like a majestic peacock. “Firstly, if you want to negotiate with it you’ll have to familiarise yourself with its language. Hakuna Matata is an important phrase in warthog culture and now I don’t remember what it means precisely but that should be enough to lull it in a false sense of security. Are you following all this?”

“Yeh?” Larry replied unconvincingly.

“Good,” said Draco, “now the second thing you’ll need is this massive knife.”

Draco reached into his robe pocket, withdrawing the ‘massive knife’ which would have been quite intimidating were it not made from cardboard, but before he could instruct Larry on how to use it he turned his head about as he heard loud chatting from just off stage.

“Yeh so the map says he should be somewhere about here,” the voice of Harry Potter said as he walked on stage with Ron and Hermione, all of whom were looking down at the marauders map in his hands.

Upon identifying the source of the intrusion, Draco stood up straighter and puffed up out his chest further as he pulled pompously on his lapels.

“Woah, what the fuck is Malfoy doing with a massived knife?” Harry asked as he stashed the map in his back pocket and observed the scene before him.

“Expelliarmus,” he said as he walked up to Draco and grabbed the knife from his hand, taking it safely off stage and depositing it carefully as if he were carrying an unexploded bomb.

“Ahh yes hello there chaps,” Draco said, “I haven’t seen you since act one scene five. I’m afraid the Martian cuisine hasn’t really been agreeing with my stomach.”

“Cool, anyway we wanted to talk to-” Harry began, but he was cut off by Draco who was clearly hell bent on elaborating on this story.

“I needed to do a doodoo that was far too big for my diaper, so I decided to brave the potty, which was a truly dreadful mistake as I ended up falling in!”

“Eww-” Harry said, pausing for a moment before trying to walk over to Larry to get him on board with their plan. Draco, however was still not finished.

“Anyway to cut a long story short,” he continued, “I decided it was easier to go down than to come up so I've spent most of the second act crawling through the Pigfarts sewers.”

Draco finally managed to get Harry's attention with that last comment, as he turned around to join the others in staring at him with mouths agape in horror.

“That is- that’s really fucking nasty Malfoy,” Ron commented.

“Eww,” Harry reiterated.

“Don’t you worry though I have had plenty of showers and now smell as fresh as a daisy,” he said as he walked up to Hermione and held his armpit up to her nose.

Clearly those showers had not done as much good as he had hoped, as Hermione staggered backwards several paces, nose shrivelled up in disgust. Ron rushed forward to defend her, walking up to Draco and shoo-ing him forwards with his much taller body, before trying furiously to brush down his clothes once he remembered where Draco had just been.

“Anyway, we’re not here for you Malfoy,” Harry began, “we’re actually here to talk to Larry.”

“Larry,” he began, “we need your-”

He choked on the last word, unable to finish his sentence. He tried again.

We need your h-“ he coughed “your h-. No I can’t do this, Hermione, can you…”

She rolled her eyes, “Larry we need your help?”

“Well, well, well,” Draco said as he paced round in a circle with his arms folded. “Look who finally came crawling back to me. Not so independent now are we Potter.”

“Malfoy we are literally not talking to you,” Harry said, not even turning around to look at him.

Draco who had been crouching down to the floor to begin a mightily impressive roll abruptly halted the manoeuvre.

“No thank you” he said in an unbearably obnoxious voice, “I’m really busy right now, Rumbleroar is expecting me to save the school from Lord Voldewarthog, the most terrifying monster who ever lived."

He turned back around with his wand raised as if to resume his training.

“This is really important Larry,” Harry implored.

Malfoy began to circle around him pompously like some annoying British fly. “More important than trying to save the school from the tyranny of Lord Voldewarthog?”

“Yes massively and obviously,” Harry answered.

“Point me in the direction of one single piece of tyranny,” Ron demanded.

“Listen to me,” Harry continued, taking a deep breath and remembering the importance of the mission General MacNamara had given them. “There is something very evil, and something actually very real here at Pigfarts. Its a creature from another dimension, it drove Dumbledore away from the school and if it gets to Earth then it will kill everyone there. And Larry, we need your h-, wow I still can’t say it," he sighed, "we need you to work with us to get rid of it.”

Draco suddenly looked quite wary, “It’s not a ghoul is it?” he asked in a grave whisper.

“What? No, it’s a Boggart.”

He visibly relaxed as he instantly returned to his former arrogant swagger. “You can’t even vanish a simple boggart? Why even I could do that, you’ve simply got to point your wand at it, like so, and say ‘Go away you stupid little Boggart’. Really I would have thought better of you!”

“This isn’t an ordinary boggart,” Hermione explained, “Since you got to Mars has anything weird happened to you? Anything really frightening that seemed out of the ordinary?”

He furrowed his brow in concentration. “Not that I can recall.”

She tried to think what sort of things Bogsy might have done to torment Malfoy, and cringed as she arrived on the answer. “Have I maybe tried to kill you at any point since we got to Mars?”

He racked his brains “Well there was that one time in Professor McGonagills class when you-"

“No, no that one was real, but were there any other times?”

“I guess there was also that when you invited me to visit the infamous martian pleasure springs with you, this was somewhat strange now I come to think of it, but yes you got down on one knee to propose to me but then just as I took the ring, I was electrocuted-”

“Exactly-”

“And then you turned into a giant snake and started eating me. Naturally I really enjoyed it at first, and I mean really enjoyed it, but then it started to get quite scary when you-”

“Okay, that’s enough I think I get the picture. None of that actually happened,” she explained. “That was the boggart. And it's not an ordinary one, it’s a really advanced one possessed by the soul of an alien doll.”

Draco looked at her as if she was finally losing it.

“Look the details don’t matter," she pushed on, "but it’s getting stronger by the hour and we need to get rid of it together.”

“Well yes, I suppose I could,” Draco said, with his hands pressed to his lips as he considered his options.

“We don’t really want you anyway Malfoy, having you there would actually probably make it harder,” Harry said, tapping his leg impatiently.

“Very well I’m in then!” Draco announced triumphantly.

“Larry, how about we make a deal,” Hermione offered. “If you help us with our problem then we can help you take down Lord Voldewarthog?”

“But he’s not real-” Harry began to say.

“Uhh no thanks, I don’t need you guys, I’ve already got Draco and he’s way better.”

“Are you sure because back on Earth, Harry did kill Lord Voldemort who’s our version of Lord Voldewarthog.”

“Please do not drag me into this,” he muttered under his breath, but catching Hermione’s glare swallowed his pride.

He stepped forward and looked Larry in the eye, before deciding this was a bit too much and looking him slightly to the left of his eye. “If you help us first I promise we’ll help you kill Lord Voldewarthog. I know how to kill warthogs.”

“Do you?” Ron asked in a stage whisper.

“Yeh just shoot it in the face,” Harry whispered back, before turning back to Larry. “I promise I’ll help you, but first you have to help us.”

Larry sighed as he thought for a while, eventually deciding, “Okay, but I don’t know, warthog’s tusks are huge and their fur is thicker than you’d think, and they have giant feet with twelve-”

“Brilliant! Thank you,” Hermione said, keen to prevent his ramblings going any further. “It’s going to do all sorts of things to try and scare us, but all you need to do is think of a way to transform it into something funny, something that will make you laugh out loud. You have to look at what its pretending to be and think of something funny you could transform that into, and once you've got that then point your wand at it and say ‘Riddikulus’.”

Larry pointed his wand straight in Hermione’s face and said “ridiculous”.

“No it’s ‘riddikulus’,” Hermione corrected. “And don’t point it at me, point it at the Boggart!”

Larry ignored her and instead wandered around the room firing off the ‘riddikulus’ spell, which he had at the very least now mastered, in random directions.

“Oh yeh man, that’s cool,” he said.

“Yes, very good,” Malfoy commented with genuine pride, as Harry winced at the idea that they could be in any way genetically related.

“Okay I think that’s good enough for now,” she said as she forcibly lowered his wand arm. “But to make that work you have to be thinking of a joke. It can be any joke but it has to actually make you laugh out loud, so I just want you to think of the funniest thing you can imagine, something that always makes you laugh. Have you got something in mind?”

Larry chuckled a bit to himself as he looked up at Harry, ”yeh,” he said with a cheeky grinned.

“Okay good, now you just have to make sure you don’t forget it, and we should be good to go. Although, I don’t know how we’re going to find him, I guess we could try and draw him out of hiding?” she asked.

“But Hermione, you know you can’t draw,” Ron commented.

“Ron makes a good point, but don’t worry he’s on the Marauder’s Map,” Harry said, already having pulled the large piece of parchment out of his back pocket and located the creature on the 1st floor between the sixth form common room and the dilithium crystal store.

Larry who had been peering on tip toes to look at the map over Harry’s shoulder suddenly yelped and jumped back several paces, clinging on to Ron with fright.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Ron asked.

“It says warthog,” he answered, pointing at the map as if it was some sort of unholy spectre.

Ron walked up to Harry to investigate. “It says warhead dumbass,” he said clapping his hands in Larry’s face in the signature style he had perfected on his dumb kid sister Ginny. “That’s where they keep the nuclear warheads. What the fuck are you scared about.”

“See Larry there’s nothing to worry about,” Hermione said as she gently showed him towards the map. He stifled a sob and began to bravely nod as he realised his mistake. “Just innocent little nuclear warheads.”

“Harry why do they have nuclear warheads?” she asked as she realised what she was saying.

“Hermione this whole place was set up as an evil shady science research facility, I’m sure they had a perfectly reasonable reason for needing nuclear weapons, it probably has something to do with some sort of apocalypse, I don't know. Look come on Larry, we really need you to pull it together and do this with us.”

Larry feebly nodded again and moved away from Hermione’s arm as he inched back towards Harry.

Looking at Larry, Harry had very little hope that their plan would succeed, but he had steadfast faith that it would be worth trying. And even if the plan failed he knew that this time they would not go down quietly. This time they would face up to whatever came their way as a united front, with wands in their hands and hope in their heart.

They walked out the stage door to the right and looped back round to the door on the left, as they moved around, various pieces of set moved too, as the lights began to turn to a pale, sickly green and a thin fog began to spread across the stage.

As they emerged back onto the stage from the left they looked out at the new room that greeted them. An aeolian melody began to softly tinkle out

“We’re here.” Harry announced with a confidence he was almost beginning to feel.

Chapter Text

ACT 2 SCENE 9 - ACCIO GUITAR

“We’re here.” Harry announced with a confidence he was almost beginning to feel.

“Hello there Harry Potter,” the disembodied voice of Bogsy snarled back.

All of them flinched at the sound of his voice as the fear that had been held at bay in their minds by a mixture of adrenaline and hope began to leak to the fore front once more. Their plan that had seemed so simple and so sure not long ago, now felt like nothing more than a fools errand. They wanted to leave, to regroup backstage to run over the plan again and make sure they were as prepared as they could be, but MacNamara’s warning that Bogsy would only grow stronger the longer they left it stayed strong in their minds.

He already felt stronger, even now, even after only a few hours and they knew they would have no second chances this time. This was their eleventh hour. And they’d just have to hope they’d prepared enough for the occasion.

“I’m surprised to see you back for second helpings so soon. And I see you’ve brought some new friends with you,” he said as Draco politely waved hello, and Larry dutifully copied him. “Draco I’ve already met, but now it seems I’m seeing double, two Harry Potters for the price of one! And it’s had to tell which ones the bigger joke.”

“Yeh? Do your worst and we’ll see who the joke is,” Ron yelled bravely, as Harry felt words beginning to fail him again.

“Ahh yes let me guess, your friends from the black and white told you if you j-j-j-just belieeeved in yourself and worked together as a teeeeam you could take m-m-m-me on,” he mocked. “Hahahaha, but I don’t see them anywhere now. It looks like they’ve ran off and left you children to do all the actual work on your own. Just like Dumbledore. Just like every adult you’ve ever driven away.”

He cackled once more, and as he did so Illuminated shadows began to appear across the back wall of the stage. Projected images of serpents, ghouls and slimy things squirmed and twisted their way across it as the five of them shrunk back a few paces in fear.

“And I wouldn’t trust either of them too much,” Bogsy continued. “I know things about good old Uncle Wiley that would make your stomachs churn.”

Ron gripped Hermione’s hand tightly as one of the projections on the wall turned into a giant spindly hand that began to reach out to him with fingernails like rusty blades.

“It’s going to take much more than a deus ex machina lore drop to take me down. I know who I am now.”

The projection changed this time to the image of a terrible beast with enormous tentacles and yellow eyes like floor lamps that bored down on them.

“I know what I am. And I know what I want.”

Bogsy laughed again as the shadow tentacles continued to grow and twist around them and while there was nothing physically there it felt like something invisible was beginning to wrap its way around them and suck the life out of their bodies.

Hermione, who was beginning to realise that it was now or never turned to Larry who seemed remarkably calm given everything that was happening. As if he found the whole experience more bemusing than anything else. “Larry you know what to do.

He stepped forward with a grin and a small chuckle. “Riddikulus!” he said pointing his wand at the space in front of them.

“Oh now this is ridiculous,” Ron said, as a single spotlight came up on the darkened corner of the stage across from them, and they saw what it was that Larry had felt was the most amusing thing he could think to turn Bogsy into.

And that thing was apparently none other than Harry Potter himself, sitting on a chair, innocent enough were it not for the cold, dead look in his eyes. A gentle light went up on the far corner of the stage where he was sat, leaving his form obscured but unmistakable.

All three of their stomach’s began to sink as gaping holes began to appear in their watertight plan.

“Larry for fucks sake, we told you to transform it into something funny!” Harry exclaimed. “I’m not funny!”

“Haha yeh you are, you have that stupid scar on your face.”

“It doesn't even really look like me, that is clearly just some other actor in a wig and glasses! Guys I think we should get out of here and come up with something else.”

“He is laughing a bit?” Ron asked, looking at Larry who if not exactly guffawing did at the very least look somewhat amused. “Is that going to be enough?”

“No, he's barely even chuckling, I think we should run away now while we still can and come up with a new plan,” Hermione said.

If Bogsy felt on the back foot after having been successfully transformed into something against his will for the first time, he was doing nothing in his new form to show it. In fact with his leery smile and confident posture it seemed almost as if transforming into Harry had been his plan all along.

There was however, a small glimmer of hope, because every time Larry let out a little scoff or chuckle, the boggart version of Harry winced slightly. As if the sounds of joy were causing him physical pain. It wasn't much but it was something.

As Larry let out a substantial giggle Bogsy hissed and a perfectly friendly looking pig appeared projected in shadow on the wall behind them. Far from the feared descriptions of Lord Voldewarthog or even the regular animal one they’d seen earlier this beast was about as small as a football, lacked any sort of tusks and had, if anything, a charming and affable demeanour as it strutted about the back wall with its head lifted high.

It was however more than enough to make Larry scream like a little girl and run off stage in fright.

“Great, well so much for our grand plan,” Harry moaned.

“I think we should get out of here now,” Hermione begged, but still, despite their dwindling odds, Harry made no move to leave. Whether paralysed by fear or spurred on by a growing sense of strength he would not be bowing out just yet.

The boggart Harry stood up and tilted his head like an animal preparing to chase down his prey.

Ron, Hermione and Draco all looked back and forth between this new Harry and the real one anxiously. It was strange looking at someone so familiar and yet at the same time utterly unrecognisable.

“Hahahaha,” it laughed slowly and callously as a wide grin broke out across its face.

“And now that I’m you,” it continued, addressing Harry, “I can really hear your thoughts. You really are a scumbag aren’t you?’

‘It’s not true you can’t hear anything,’ Harry wanted to cry out, but he didn’t. He didn’t because he didn’t actually know that. Maybe that was how this worked. Maybe he could hear his thoughts.

“W- what do you mean?” he stammered instead.

The boggart Harry grinned a little wider as he tilted his head to the left.

“You’ve given up. And you’re planing on using them,” it pointed at Ron and Hermione, “as a distraction so you can sneak off and run away back to Earth” Bogsy explained with a heavily exaggerated gasp on its face.

Harry instantly felt a sense of relief, because of course that wasn’t true, he would never do anything like that, but as he looked around and saw the look of fear and doubt on Ron’s face he realised this fresh torment was not meant for him.

“What-” Ron asked, brow furrowed in unease.

“He wants to give himself a fresh start,” Bogsy continued, “he’s realised I was right, he has become a bit of a joke and cutting his losses and making a clean break seems a better option than dying in a fools errand on Mars.”

“Ron please,” Harry cut across, before Bogsy’s poisonous words could take root, “he’s lying, he’s just trying to mess with you.” Ron still looked deeply uncertain so Harry grabbed his hand, “This is our only shot and I’m not leaving, none of us are leaving, until we’ve thrown everything we can at this motherfucker, come on you have to trust me.”

Harry admitted that things seemed pretty dire but he would be damned if he was going to quit again at least not without trying everything they could first. At least not given what Wilber had said to him.

Ron looked up at him and gave a trusting nod.

“We have to think of something funny,” he continued, now turning to face the whole group. “Everyone just try and think of any jokes you can.”

While he sounded confident, no amount of scouring his memories of stand up specials he’d seen on wizard Netflix brought anything to mind, and having to stare at the snarling reflection of himself certainly wasn’t helping.

“Uh Knock knock,” Ron tried.

“Who’s there?” snarled back the evil Harry.

He paused for a minute. Sweat began to drip down the side of his face. “Oh god I don’t fucking know! It is really hard to do this under pressure!” he exclaimed in defence of himself.

“Why are you even still trying?” Snarled the boggart Harry. “Why drag this out for yourselves?”

Hemione grabbed Ron’s hand and stepped out in front confidently. “I read a book once and it had the earliest recorded joke ever told by a human in it. They found it written on the inside of a cave somewhere in northern Michigan. I read it a while ago but I think I can still remember it.”

“Great, try it!” Harry said optimistically.

“Okay here goes,” she began, trying to block out the sound of Bogsy’s torment. “So I was building a little hut the other day, you know, just a small little hut, as we do, and I had these two logs, right, and a little stick to go between them. So I take this first log, sitting right over here, lift it up like this, okay here we go, make sure it's nice and steady. Beautiful! And turn back over here, take this log lying right here, lift it up. Ooh okay uh, this one's heavier, okay uh huh and perfect! And turn back over here take this... now wait a second, where'd that log go, huh? Oh... it's on the floor. And I'm like SCHWOOPSIE!”

Harry and Ron looked at her in abject confusion. While they appreciated the attempt it was clear from not only their own bewilderment but also from how utterly unaffected Bogsy seemed to be that while maybe they were just speaking from a place of being privellaged fucks, early human civilisation clearly had a long way to come in terms of comedy.

“Think,” Harry said, deciding it was best to move on quickly from whatever it was Hermione was talking about. “What is the funniest thing that’s ever happened to us? What’s the funniest thing we’ve ever done? We’ve gotten up to so many wacky hijinks over the years, there has to be something we can use.”

And then, all of a sudden, Harry smiled as out of nowhere, like a bolt of lightning, inspiration struck.

“I have an idea,” he said as he confidently stepped forward and raised his wand up.

“Riddikulus!” he cried.

And as he did the lights flashed down again on the evil Harry and when they came back up a familiar shiny, black guitar had appeared in his hands.

“This is ridiculous,” Bogsy said, as he looked down at the guitar he had suddenly acquired.

Whether it was the shock of sudden transformation or the look of sheer determination in Harry’s eyes, this latest development had clearly left Bogsy rattled as he stepped back a few paces and looked about the stage.

His fingers began to play a dissonant and ugly series of sounds on the guitar as he wasted no time trying to reclaim the upper hand.

“Oh look at me,” he said, “I’m Harry freaking Potter, look at me playing my stupid little guitar to hide the fact that I’m a loser with no friends. Oh look everyone gather round so I can interrupt all your conversations with some fucking Disney songs.” But amidst the mocking and out of tune strumming Harry detected something new in his voice, a hint of fear.

“Oh look everyone pay attention to me,” it continued its desperate mocking, “please pay attention to me or I’ll cry or I’ll fucking cry.”

“Harry we should just get out here,” Hermione begged.

“No, I have a plan, I know what I'm doing. Riddikulus!” he yelled once more.

As Harry’s spell took effect once more, the aggressive dissonant strumming stopped and was replaced by a simple catchy base line. The evil Harry looked down at the guitar as his fingers began to move of their own accord. He jerked and twisted at the elbows trying to pull them away but his eyes went wide in increasing alarm as they remained tightly glued to the melody.

“Maybe I am a joke,” Harry declared, “But I'm a fucking funny one. RIDDIKULUS!”

As he shouted the spell to the back of the room, the lights changed once more, this time to a softer hue, as the boggart Harry opened his mouth and with panic in its eyes began to sing out over the top of the melody.

“Hermione can't draw, Hermione can’t draw, Hermione cannot draw.” It sang, desperately craning its neck to try and stop the words coming out of its mouth, but found that it could no more do this than stop its fingers moving across the fretboard of the guitar.

“She only reads books and she cannot draw,” it continued.

Harry and Ron looked at each other and both began to chuckle, as they broke out into wide grins at the memory of how truly hysterical this song was.

“EVEN IF SHE'S READING A HOW TO DRAW BOOK,” Bogsy sang, this time joined by Harry and Ron whos laughter intensified as they started to dance around him in a circle.

“Please! Not the forced singing!” Bogsy rasped during the pause between verses as he grabbed at his throat, “That’s my brother’s thing!”

But this brief show of defiance didn’t last as Ron cried out ‘Riddikulus’ and once more his hands were forcibly moved back to strumming their rhythm on the guitar.

“Hermione can’t draw, Hermione can’t draw, Hermione cannot draw,” they all sang in unison.

“Guys what the fuck!” Hermione tried to complain, but to no avail as they were both in fits of laughter and totally absorbed by the song.

However this could not last forever. As they got to the part once more where they concluded that Hermione would still not be able to draw even if she was reading a how to draw book, Harry and Ron were out of breath and the joke was beginning to wear somewhat thin. Spurred on by the lull in their hysterics and his own hungry desire to survive Bogsy began to regain some control as he stopped singing and abruptly stopped playing the guitar as his hands grasped tightly around its neck.

“This song isn't even that good!” he snarled as he slowly backed up and began to walk away from them.

But just at that moment, just as they began to worry that they hadn’t done enough, just as the creeping fear began to return to them such that even Hermione found herself wishing they would continue with the song. Just at that exact moment Albus Dumbledore walked on stage and began to sing out in a voice as smooth as butter.

“Bogsy can’t sing, Bogsy can’t sing, Bogsy cannot sing.”

“Riddikulus!” he said pointing his wand at Bogsy, who began to sweat profusely as he stared down in horror at his hands which were once again making their way up and down the frets of the guitar.

“He only reads books and he cannot sing,” Dumbledore continued, “even if he’s reading a how to sing book!”

“Yes I can!” Bogsy protested. “I’m Bogsy freaking – Look, look Hermione, she can’t draw!”

“Hermione can’t draw,” Ron and Harry sang, striking the chorus back up again once more as they fell about in fits of hysterics.

“Hermione can’t draw, Hermione cannot draw,” everyone continued now joined by the quaking voice of Bogsy and the sonorous tones of Dumbledore.

Even Hermione found herself chuckling discretely into her sleeve at the absurdity of the scene before her.

As they came once more to the crescendo of the chorus (the part where Hermione’s drawing was so bad that not even a how to draw book would have been able to help her out), Bogsy’s jittering and shaking increased until he was almost convulsing. They all then took a step back as the song stopped all of a sudden and the lights began to follow suit, flickering and pulsating as it almost began to feel like the stage itself was moving and trying to jerk them off it. The boggart was dying.

All of a sudden the lights went out all together, plunging them into total darkness as a million voices began to echo across the room.

"He thinks I should just kill you....step away from the vehicle...all you gotta do is... Join us and die!....AU CONTRAIRE...the names McDoon and I make the ladies McSwoon...*Snarl noises*...when you're made in America...cause in America we fight...now America is great again...Don't be frightened you're my bestest buddy wud...get back in the vehicle...step 1) jerk me off, step 2) kill Joey Richter...get in my mouth...I'm Lucius Malfoy and these are my death eaters...get your cup of poisoned coffee...slowly get out of the vehicle...I’m not a boomer Gerald I’m a super cool millennial...I'm gonna find Harry Potter and *bleep* in his *bleep*...why should you give when you can get...yeh I'm smoking pot...you're either in the smoke club or you're out of the smoke club...Hur dur dur dur dur...satan is a real man... JOE WALKER DIES!!!"

With that the lights returned to normal as they all looked around at each other, hardly daring to believe that they had finally done it. That they had finally killed the beast. Although what it’s dying words meant was more ambiguous still.

“Did he say he was Lucius Malfoy?” Draco asked.

“Well, I don't want to even start to think about those implications,” Ron commented.

They looked over at the corner of the stage that the boggart Harry had disappeared from and saw that all that was left of him was the maimed carcass of the Wiggly doll they had first seen in Rumbleroar’s bed chamber some ten scenes prior. It’s stuffing lay in pieces on the floor around it, pulled out into matted clumps, both of its plastic eyes were rolling on around on the floor beside it as if gouged out by a vicious child and its once vibrant fur had worn down into a coarse stubble.

Draco walked up to the remains of the wiggly doll and held it up to the light inspecting the damage. He had always found the doll oddly cute, something about its wretched and unloved form had appealed to him. “You know I think we can paste it,” he suggested, as he tried to hold the folds of the fabric together.

Ron strode up to him and ripped the doll from his hands. He threw it on the floor, pointed his wand at it and said “Avada Kevadvra,” before stabbing it with his wand a few times and finally kicking it a few feet away.

“Well now it’s definitely dead,” Draco concluded, after all not even phoenix tears worked on fabric.

They all breathed a gentle sigh of relief as Ron with a wide grin on his face walked up to Harry and clapped him on the shoulder.

“That was awesome man!” he declared, once again in awe of his best friends ability to always pull something out of his ass at the last minute.

“Yeh it was,” Harry agreed. “You know, it was almost as cool as the pizza box trick.”

Ron’s heart swelled as moisture began to well in his eyes. “Wait dude, you remember the pizza boxes?”

“Dude,” Harry answered, opening his arms wide to embrace Ron in a big hug. “Of course I remember the pizza boxes.”

Once he’d finished hugging Harry, Ron then moved over towards Hermione and instinctively tried to put his arm around her but was taken aback when she wrenched herself away and looked at him like he was a man she no longer recognised.

“What?” he asked

“What the fuck?!” she declared indignantly.

“What?”

“What the fuck was that?!”

Ron and Harry shook their heads as they looked at her obliviously.

“Back there with Bogsy?!” she explained.

“Oh shit yeh, you’re welcome,” Harry said.

Her nostrils flared and eyes went wide as she took a deep breath in and prepared to unleash her fury.

“That was the funniest thing you could think of?!” she exclaimed.

“That stupid song about how I can’t draw! After I saved your asses? After I was the only one who realised something was up in the first place? After I was the one who thought to go to Professor Hidgens? After I was the one who got him to contact Webby? Without which MacNamara and Wilber wouldn’t have come to explain what was going on. Without which you, Harry, seemed perfectly happy to just give up and let us all die. After all of that, after everything I have done this year, the funniest joke you two jackals could think of was bullying me? That was the best thing you could come up with to stop Bogsy!?”

“Yeh like I said, you’re welcome,” Harry reiterated, still looking very confused.

Hermione stuttered at his response, opening her mouth to protest further, but upon seeing the absolute gormless expressions on the guys faces she decided the better of it. Instead throwing her hands up in the air and resigning herself to the fact that even despite everything that had happened to them things hadn’t changed as much as she’d thought, and maybe she’d have to wait until seventh year, a near death experience and an absolute banger of a song for Ron to finally grow up and treat her how she deserved.

“Hey relax Granger,” Dumbledore said in a nonchalant tone that did nothing to sooth her fuming rage, “Jeez, you’d think you’d have preferred it if we’d all died. But thanks to Harry’s beautiful song” he shot a pointed glance at Hermione, “we’re all back together and everyone’s okay.”

He looked expectantly at Harry, as the excitement at seeing Dumbledore’s return was replaced by a growing knot in his stomach, as he realised it was now time for the conversation he had been dreading for a while now. It was now time to confront Dumbledore.

Chapter Text

ACT 2 SCENE 10 - A GREAT BIG MUSCLY SUPER BIG SUPER HOT MAN

Harry turned to face Dumbledore. This man was the reason they had come to Mars in the first place, he was the man who had lied to him, messed them around and caused Harry no end of grief over the past year, the man who had run out on them. But also the man who when it really mattered, had chosen to come back.

“Dumbledore,” Harry said, turning around to face him. “You came back.”

“I sure did,” he answered, chancing a warm smile. “You know me, I always show up just in the nick of time. Right after you kids have done all the hard work so I can claim credit. Um, sorry, I mean help you kids build character or whatever,” he corrected, adjusting his tone.

“Listen Harry,” he continued with a rare look of sincerity on his face, “I owe you an apology. When I tried to go after Bogsy I bit off more than I could chew but what he showed me made some things clear in my mind. And when I ran off I had some time to think about what I’ve done and who I’ve become. I shouldn’t have lied to you, especially not about the whole being dead thing. It was wrong and cowardly and I didn’t think about the impact that would have on you.”

He sighed and turned now to face the whole group. “I also shouldn’t have tried to hide from you all on Pigfarts. I should have spoken to you as soon as you got here rather than continuing to hide. But I’ve made quite a few changes in my life recently,” he said giving a sly and cheeky smile that certainly piqued Hermione’s curiosity. “Basically I’m sorry and from now I promise things will be different.”

Harry didn’t know what to say. On the one hand he had still been hurt and betrayed my Dumbledore’s actions and no amount of apologising would change what had happened. But then he saw the pain on Dumbledore’s face and in it he found something familiar.

It wasn’t too long ago that it was he who’d wanted to run and hide, that he’d been so caught up in his own sadness and fear that he had been willing to betray his friends. To walk out and leave them at Bogsy’s mercy. He now understood what it was to want to just leave everything behind and just run away, but unlike Dumbledore he hadn’t. And he hadn’t because in the time when he'd really needed them, his friends had been there to set him back on the right course. He’d needed Ron and Hermione’s patience, but most importantly he’d needed their forgiveness.

“I’m still mad at you,” Harry said nodding slowly, “but I understand why you did what you did and I’m happy to move past it.”

“Does this mean we’re tight?” Dumbledore ventured.

“No,” Harry answered.

“Is that because we’re super tight?”

“Yes it’s because we’re super tight!” Harry answered with a crack in his voice as he went in for big hug.

As Harry and Dumbledore hugged and made up, everyone, even Hermione began to smile and move in closer to each other.

They all turned as they heard someone enter rather clumsily from stage left.

“Oh Dumby, there you are,” Rumbleroar said affectionately as he crawled out onto the stage. He walked up to Dumbledore and nuzzled the soft fur of his lion mask up against his hand.

“Oh Rumby, you old flirt” Dumbledore responded as he began to sensually caress his partner’s mane.

Rumbleroar broke away when he noticed the mutilated corpse of the green Wiggly doll on the floor behind the kids. “Oh good god what has become of poor Mr Tickles?” he asked, recognising it from the months it had spent in their bed chamber after Dumbledore’s ill fated decision to bring the foul creature in from the cold.

“So as it turns out you might have been right about Mr Tickles all along,” Dumbledore conceded sheepishly. “Turns out he might have been an evil behemoth from another dimension set on the eradication of hummanity, but come on! How was I to know that? I mean look at his cute little tentacles!” Dumbledore put his hand up to his chin to mime out tentacles, to the amusmant of no one except Rumbleroar who giggled like a child.

“Oh Dumby, you are such a funny man.”

“And you’re the handsomest lion I ever saw,” Dumbledore answered, tilting his head upward and staring lovingly into his deep brown eyes that were only partially obscured by the lion mask.

“Well I see you two made up,” Ron observed.

While everyone was delighted to see Dumbledore back to his cheerful old self, they could really have done without the face of deep arousal that he was now pulling as Rumbleroar rubbed up against his leg..

“We did indeed,” Rumbleroar answered, turning to Ron once he was satisfied that his partner’s leg had been thoroughly molested. “After he ran away, Dumby came back to me this morning and apologised for his behaviour. We talked things through and I think we’re now in a place to start off again on the right paw.”

Dumbledore gave a heavy sigh as he began to explain. “Talking to Snape made me realise that I don’t want to end up a bitter old man who never got over a lost love. And I can’t do that if I don’t stop chasing after what I’ve lost and learn to focus on what I have.”

“I think I’ve kind of realised the same thing,” Harry said as he looked warmly at Ron and Hermione beside him.

“And as part of our new mission to cling on to the present, me and Rumbleroar have decided to make a few changes,” Dumbledore continued.

“What changes?” Hermione asked to distract herself from the growing urge to murder Harry.

"A few changes in the bedroom," he continued before Hermione had even finished asking. “When we chatted it through, we realised that maybe what we were missing was a little something extra to spice up our love life." Rumbleroar wagged his tail in excitement. “After everything went down with Bogsy I did the exact same thing I did when Grindelwald dumped me the first time around: I went out to a night club and got so drunk that I forgot most of my middle names. And while I was there I met a handsome stranger. Someone who made me feel like even more of a beautiful son of a gun than Snape or Grindelwald ever did. I introduced him to Rumbleroar and we think he’ll make an excellent addition to our nighttime exploits.”

“Rumbleroar!” Rumbleroar rumbleroared in agreement.

“Oh, so what type of animal are you fucking now?” Harry asked curiously.

"This young man's not an animal, in fact he’s not from Mars at all, he's one of those Starship Rangers just passing through on a visit. Kids, I'd like you to meet our new boyfriend, Commander Up."

As he announced that, man dressed head to toe in black and grey military gear walked on stage. He was incredibly muscular, with deltoids the size of bricks visibly trying to break through his thin shirt, although they were not quite as thick as his bushy grey moustache that was holding on firm to the visible tape beneath it. Around his forehead he wore a black bandana which concealed the start to a long red scar that ran down across his right eye.

When he first walked out on stage Harry was initially taken aback by how much this man reminded him of Voldemort but then he realise that of course this could not be Voldemort because this man’s hair was silver and spikey and Voldemort’s was silver and flat. Not to mention the fact that they were clearly wearing different clothes.

“Look at his muscles,” Dumbledore said as a cheeky aside to the students as he giggled and he squeezed Up’s humongous biceps which he happily tensed back for him. “You know he kind of reminds me of Umbridge, or rather the man I thought she was.”

Commander Up sighed and looked down at the floor. “Dumbledore, Rumbleroar,” he began, slowly tilting his head upwards to look them in the eye. “Before we go any further there’s something I have to confess. Many years ago, during the robot wars I had a terrible accident. A robot sliced me in half,” he explained to horrified gasps from all round. “Hot dog, not hamburger,” he clarified, drawing a vertical line down his body. “And I- I lost my penis.”

“Oh well we’ve been looking for a power bottom for a while-” Dumbledore began, but he was cut off by a sudden new entrance.

A man in a shabby waist coast and top hat, dressed head to toe in brown with two balloons stuffed down the bottom of his trousers walked onto the stage. In his hands wrapped in fingerless gloves he held out a wooden cane, as he took off his hat and held it outstretched jubilantly.

“Did someone say they needed a penis?” Big Tallywacker asked the now extremely confused group he’d walked out to.

“I’ve been all alone since the old snatch left me part way through our romantic trip to Venice to go make Tifnessa canon. Since then I’ve spent years traversing the galaxy looking for someone to complete me. All I’ve ever wanted is to be reunited with a body.”

“What the fuck is Tifnessa?” Ron asked Harry in a hushed whisper.

Big T looked over in alarm at the sound of Ron’s voice, as he walked up to him and eyed up and down his familiar frame. There was no mistaking it, he would recognise that crooked jaw anywhere.

“Joey Richter?” he asked in horror.

“Oh,” Hermione exclaimed as she remembered the tale of Joseph Michael Richter the horny high school student and realised what was going on here. “This must be one of the sentient penises that Wilber Cross was telling us about.”

Everyone’s reaction to seeing a man-sized talking penis for the first time was different. While Harry and Ron seemed somewhat grossed out, Dumbledore found himself desperately trying to think sad thoughts to quell the violent erection that was growing beneath his wizard robes as if his own penis was feeling the desire to come to life. Likewise, as Hermione considered the implications of the existence of such a creature on magical theory, Draco responded with the usual grace and bravery with which he met all unfamiliar situations as he shuffled across to hide himself behind her back.

But of everyone gathered by far the most joyous reaction came from Commander Up who had to wipe away a tear from his eye as he realised what this might finally mean for him.

“You’re looking for a body, I’m looking for a penis,” Up announced with arms open wide, “Sounds like the perfect match! What do you say Dumbleroar, do you think you might have room in your bed for four?”

“Well I would never say no to such a handsome fellow,” Dumbledore said as he went up to Big T and began to sensually stroke up and down his cane. Big T virbated with titilation as the children looked on uncomfortably, unsure whether this was the sort of thing they should be watching.

“So what do you say Rumby?” Dumbledore asked.

Rumbleroar walked up to Big T and gave him a sniff, before declaring. “Rumbleroar!” which everyone understood to mean wholehearted agreement with this latest addition to their set.

The newly acquired foursome stood hand in hand (or hand in paw as the case may be) as they looked at each other fondly, all of the troubles of the past year now seeming so far away.

“Well I’m just glad everyone’s happy and made up,” Ron commented, which earned him an absolutely ball melting look from Hermione who had not forgotten their earlier argument. A ball melting look which he of course did not notice.

However in all of this reunion and reconciliation there was someone missing: the person who had brought them all to Pigfarts in the first place.

“Aren’t you forgetting someone?” A high pitched voice asked as Scarfy and the sorting hat floated on stage, carried by a puppeteer dressed all in black.

“Scarfy!” Dumbledore said, as he ran over and embraced the hat and scarf in a wide hug “I’m so sorry I tried to push you away and I know you didn’t attack me now. I know it sounds odd but there was this space boggart-”

“Oh Dumbledear,” he said cutting off Dumbledore’s explanation as he nuzzled his folds against his face. He didn’t need to hear it, as long as he had his friend back. "Everything's okay now."

“And it’s all thanks to you kids for coming up here and saving the day,” the sorting hat said.

“I knew I could count on you when I sent that letter,” said Scarfy.

“We’re just happy everything turned out okay,” Hermione said.

“And I’m just sorry I ruined your honeymoon,” Dumbledore groaned.

“I wouldn’t worry about that, as a matter of fact we’ve decided to extend our honeymoon for another year,” the sorting hat explained.

“You’re not getting rid of us that easily baby!” Scarfy added.

“But surely that means another year of Hogwarts students will be left unsure about their sexuality!” Hermione remarked.

“Relax I’m sure there’s a buzzfeed quiz or something they can take about it.”

“And I’m actually wondering if sorting students into one of four personality types at age eleven might not be a great system in the first place,” the sorting hat mused.

“What the fuck are you talking about,” Harry said, “Gryffindor rules.”

“Meh, I’m sure some of the teachers must still be alive, they can probably handle all of that,” Dumbledore said. “It’s not that hard anyway, you’ve just got to put everyone that looks like a good guy into Gryffindor -”

“And everybody who looks like a bad guy into Slytherin-” the students all finished along with him.

“Well it looks like you kids have got it covered,” Dumbledore said, sounding impressed, “and hey, don’t say Hogwarts didn’t teach you anything.”

“Hogwarts didn’t teach us anything,” they all mumbled in various tones of acceptance and resignation.

“Well anyway we best be going now,” Dumbledore said as he put one hand on Rumbleroar’s head and slotted his other through Up’s waist, who in turn had his arm around Big T. “We’ve got a lot of.. um… catching up to do. But hey, you kids be good, keep your noses clean and don’t get into any trouble no matter who tries to make you sort out all their problems.”

“And you never know,” he added on his way out, “maybe I’ll see some of you again someday.”

He looked at Harry, as if somehow he knew that in four years time he’d be seeing him again with a fake beard and hard hat in a graveyard where he was overseeing the erection of a new spiderman statue.

As they walked off the stage Larry Smotter came running on, breathless from the other direction.

“Are you guys okay?” he panted, “I almost got eaten by a warthog but it’s okay I think I lost him.”

“No you didn’t,” said Hermione.

“It was literally a shadow puppet,” said Ron.

“Well we’re out of here,” Ron announced, not keen to linger with Larry for any more than was necessary as he took Hermione by the hand.

But Harry lingered. He looked over Larry Smotter who seemed to have momentarily forgotten his earlier distress, and was now busy inspecting one of his own bogies. It was like there was something Harry wanted to say to him. Almost as if he was having a thought. Or worse, a feeling.

“Harry, you coming?” Ron asked.

“I’ll catch you guys up,” he answered, eyes still fixed on Larry.

“Come on Larry,” Draco said as he tried to drag his friend up by the shoulder to follow him off stage where Ron and Hermione had just left, but before they could get too far Harry had grabbed Larry by the wrist and easily pulled him out of Draco’s grip.

“Wait Larry can I talk to you real quick?” Harry asked. While Larry looked as gormless as ever, Draco turned his head, and walked excitedly back towards him, delighted to finally be receiving positive attention from his nemesis-turned-friend Harry Potter.

“No Draco you can leave.”

“Are you sure-? I-”

“No that’s okay,” he said coldly, “I just want to talk to Larry.

Draco slunk off stage meekly with his head bowed down in disappointment as Harry put his arm around a now very confused Larry’s shoulder.

“Listen,” he said, “I know I promised that if you helped us with Bogsy that we’d help you with your warthog.”

“Yes I need help, he has eyes and massive tusks and… um little pig feet and he’s going to eat us all alive!” Larry exclaimed, looking extremely alarmed again.

“Yes, I get that,” he said patting him on the knee, “but what I wanted to tell you is that being the hero isn’t about knowing what to do all the time and it isn’t about not feeling scared. It’s about trying to do the right thing, even when you feel scared and alone. In fact especially when you feel scared and alone. Larry, even though you know you only killed him by accident last time, even though you could have just sat this out and let someone else handle it, you still decided you were going to put your hand up and try and take him on. You may not be a conventional hero, you know like I am, but you try and I respect that. I don’t think you need my help to take down Lord Voldewarthog, I think that deep down you’re brave enough and strong enough to do that for yourself.”

“You really mean that?” Larry asked earnestly.

“Yeah I really do.” Harry answered in kind. “Especially the part about me being a hero, I’m fucking great.”

Harry paused and took a deep breath as he realised what else it was he’d wanted to say to Larry.

“So I recently found out that you’re sort of my clone, and while I don’t really know what that means - I never paid much attention in wizard biology, in fact I don’t think I even made it to a single class, I think that might make us brothers. And while sure, maybe you’re not exactly what I had in mind, it feels really nice to have someone I can finally call family. I’ll be going back to earth soon but I was thinking that maybe we should try to stay in touch.”

“Sure," Larry answered.

“Brilliant! Do you have Whatsapp?” Harry asked, bringing out his phone.

“Like an app?” Larry asked looking confused.

“Yeh!” Harry said, getting his phone out of his pocket.

“No,” Larry answered.

“Nevermind, I’m sure they must make space suits for owls, I’ll just send you a letter the normal way. Now you go out there, you find Lord Voldewarthog, and you show that motherfucker who’s boss,” he proudly announced.

At that Larry walked off stage, chest held a little higher than before as Harry sat there, smiling after him fondly.

The kid may have been weird, and much too similar to Malfoy for his liking, but in a way wasn’t all of this a bit weird. Here he was in a castle on Mars filled with magical animals, creatures from another dimension and now a talking penis of all things. If in three years he could have gone from not even knowing magic existed to feeling perfectly at home in a place like this, well then surely anything could happen.

“Goddam Pigfarts,” he muttered affectionately to himself with a wry smile and shake of his head as he looked around the room and slowly walked off stage.

Chapter Text

Several hours later, the entire school was gathered in the Pigfarts great hall, spread across all four of its magnificent benches as Professor Rumbleroar prepared to give his end of term announcement. Their school years always seemed to pass so quickly, they thought, as it seemed only a few hours ago that they had arrived here in a cardboard rocket ship and been sorted into Bumfuzzle, but given that Martian years were different to Earth ones at least this time it almost made some sense.

At the back of the stage, stood before the gathered students, were Professors Snake and Shagrid, who stood with their arms wrapped lovingly around each other. Hermione wondered whether it was Snake’s breakdown at the hands of Bogsy that had cause them to finally come around to realising how they felt about each other, but catching a knowing wink shared between Scarfy and the Sorting Hat made it clear that maybe all they’d needed was a little outside push.

Once everyone had settle down, Growlus Rumbleroar came in through the back, crawling forward with a slight limp in his hind legs; possibly as a result of the recent changes in his dating life, but maybe also due to the strain of forcing a human actor to walk around on their knees for such a long play.

As he arrived at the head of the stage he grinned, brimming with excitement at the wonderful news he had to share with the school.

“Welcome students of Pigfarts,” he began. “It is my privilege to be able to announce to you today that the creature known as Lord Voldewarthog is dead.”

At once, all of the students leapt up and whooped with joy (albeit Paul Catthews whoop of joy quickly turned into a yelp of pain as his tail got caught between his legs). Even Dean and Seamus joined in with the celebrations although of what they were cheering they were less certain.

“Yes yes it is most joyous news,” Rumbleroar continued, once the students had settled down. “And hopefully this time he’s dead for real and won’t just come back again in a few weeks. But none of this would have happened without the actions of one very brave student, who stood up and risked his life to save us all.”

Harry began to look around the room eagerly as Ron patted him triumphantly on the back.

“Everyone put your hands together for the saviour of the school: Larry Smotter.”

Rumbleroar sat back on his hind legs so he could free up his hands for applause, as Larry walked out from behind the back curtain.

He looked far wearier and more dishevelled than he had when they’d left him. Covered from head to toe in spattered blood and with the mangled corpse of a lifeless, innocent pig in his arms he walked out onto the stage. Entrails were hanging around his arms and a gaping hole in the pig’s head revealed jelly-like brain matter which oozed out of the skull like a thick custard. One of its eyes was hanging loose from its socket by a bloodied tendon, and the other was wide open, still in its socket, with a lingering sadness still writ across it.

The exuberant cheers from the students quickly turned into stifled yucks as everyone either averted their eyes from the horrific sight, or found themselves mesmerized by the sight and unable to do so. Hermione silently retched into Ron’s jumper as Harry’s face upturned into a disgusted wince.

Only Rumbleroar seemed unphased by the sight as he alone kept up the light smattering of applause.

“Yes, yes bravo!” he proclaimed. “Bravo to our noble and valiant hero.”

“I can see it’s brain!” Seamus exclaimed, although he sounded far more excited than horrified by this fact.

“I stabbed him in the brain!” Larry explained with a beaming smile on his face.

“Three cheers for Larry Smotther,” Rumbleroar continued.

“Hip hip hooray,” he began as Larry lifted the pig’s guts on high and paraded them round in a circle as if he were performing some horrific satanic ritual.

“Hip hip hooray,” Rumbleroar continued, now joined in by many of the Pigfarts students who had adjusted to the initial shock. Blood began to pour down from his hands and onto his shoulders.

Harry stood up. “Why the fuck are you cheering this?” he asked as he looked around at the bizarre display of blood lust. “He just brutally murdered a poor innocent creature!”

“Hip hip hooray,” Rumbleroar continued, now prostrating himself before the bloody sacrifice.

“Someone report him to wizard PETA!” Harry continued.

“I’d like to thank everyone for their kind words and support,” Larry began meekly as he looked up fondly at Harry. “But most of all I’d like to thank Harry Potter for giving me the confidence to do it.”

Ron and Hermione looked at him scandalised. “Harry how could you?”

“Ahh- I think I um- I forgot Lord Voldearthog wasn’t actually real,” Harry said sheepishly as he quietly sat back down.

“Now you go get yourself cleaned up,” Rumbleroar said as he crawled forward and patted Larry on the back. Larry scuttled awkwardly off stage, regathering the entrails in his arms as they threatened to slip out.

“This also marks the end of yet another magical year at Pigfarts,” he continued, “And the start of the time where we all must shelter in the underground tunnels to ride out the radioactive dust storms.” The students all nodded in solemn resignation. “It is also my unfortunate duty to announce that two of our Professors will not be rejoining us next year. Firstly Professor McGonnagills,” he said pointing to a fishbowl sitting on a bench behind him that contained an obviously plastic goldfish, “will be retiring early after someone tried to poison her fishbowl with Coca Cola.”

Harry and Ron began to look at each other guiltily but began to snigger when they caught each other’s eyes and remembered how much fun they’d had that afternoon they’d tried to murder the deputy headmistress.

“And we will also be saying goodbye to our beloved Professor Hidgens,” Rumbleroar continued, “who will be returning to his native Hatchetfield. Professor Hidgens.” He turned to face the Professor who was standing behind him. “Are there any parting words you’d like to say-”

“If I may say a few parting words,” Hidgens interrupted, pushing past Rumbleroar to assume centre stage.

“I’d love to say you were a pleasure to teach but quite frankly most of you were either tone deaf or terminally flat. But no show is complete without a closing number so I have, as ever, prepared a little something for the occasion. Band, hit it!” he said gesturing towards the band who, now he pointed it out, were very poorly hidden behind a thin curtain to the side.

A simple piano progression began as Professor Hidgens pulled a microphone out of his back pocket and began to sing into it, but he had hardly gotten through the first few chords before he was interrupted by one Paul Catthews who, despite looking about as unsure of himself as a gerbil confronted by a lion, stood up and wrestled the microphone from the professor’s hands.

Everyone, especially Harry and Ron who’s love for musical theatre was almost as great as Hidgen’s own, gasped.

“This is discrimination,” Paul said breathlessly into the microphone that he was desperately trying to keep out of Hidgens’ grip.

“Oh yeh,” Hidgens answered as he squared up to Paul in his best attempt at portraying a tough guy (something he had learned from a regional production of west side story he’d been in in the 80s). “Against who,” he spat. Richard Beymer would have been proud.

“Against people who don’t like musicals!”

“Okay that’s not a protected class,” Shagrid said as he stepped forward and easily overpowered both of them, taking the microphone from both of them and handing it back to Rumbleroar.

“You go stand in the corner,” he said to Paul Catthews who folded his arms in indignation.

“I’m not going to stand in the corner,” he answered back.

“You go- hmmmm” Shagrid began to reiterate angrily before deciding instead to fold his arms in kind and stare down Paul with a murderous wrath.

“Yes, um, thank you for that wonderful speech Professor Hidgens,” Rumbleroar began, reclaiming control of the situation. Paul went back to sit down and Shagrid returned to his spot with the rest of the teachers, both of them still glaring daggers at each other.

“While it is sad to see our much beloved professors leave us,” Rumbleroar continued. “We are fortunate to have been blessed with many excellent applications for replacements. It’s a tight call and I don’t want to jump the gun and confirm anything too soon, but I think I'm going to go with someone called Squirinius Squirrel, who appears to have won several awards."

“Wait like Quirrell, that defence against the dark art's teacher we had at Hogwarts last year?” Ron asked.

“Nah it can't be, his first name was Professor,” Harry said.

Hidgens suddenly looked alarmed. “Hang on!” he cried, “a squirrel you say?! He doesn’t have a brother called Peanuts does he?"

“I’m not aware of his familial situation but I am certain he will have a lot to tell us about peanuts, after all, when it comes to nut collection we simply cannot compete with squirrels,” answered Rumbleroar, who clearly had not thought about the implications of a squirrel becoming a sentient being.

“I have no further announcements to give, so all that remains for me to do is to bid you all a very happy martian summer and pray that you may all survive the great dust storms unharmed.”

As students and staff began to mill around aimlessly, shaking hands and pretending to have conversations with each other, Harry, Ron and Hermione ran up to Professor Hidgens excited to see him for the first time since they’d been rescued by the strange men from the black and white.

“Professor!” Hermione cried, “You did it! Webby saved us!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, my songs are my own and don’t let anyone tell you different!” he snapped back scanning around the room anxiously as he looked for any hidden critics.

Hermione sighed, by this point more than anything disappointed in herself for believing she could have gotten a serious answer out of Professor Hidgens. She had maybe hoped that his successful reconnection with Webby would have led to some changes in his general demeanour but it seemed some things were too much to wish for.

“How come you’ve decided to go back to Earth?” she asked.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned this year it’s that there’s no use trying to outrun the apotheosis. No matter how hard you try to hide from it, it will find you and so long as foul creatures from the black and white are able to move freely between worlds, so long as witchcraft and evil companies that build killer robots are allowed to spread unchallenged, our fate is alas inevitable.”

Harry, who was feeling almost back to his usual confident self thought this was a rather grim outlook to have on life but decided not to press the issue.

“So I’ve decided to go back to Earth to spend however long we have left surrounded by my loved ones. Alexa needs servicing and I can’t get a replacement delivered here. I know, it’s 2022 and amazon can’t even deliver to Mars!” he shook his head in outrage.

“But Professor, what about the musical?!” Harry asked.

“Don’t you worry, I’ll find a way to put it on yet. One way or another the world will see Working Boys, and when it does I’ll make sure you three get the best seats in the house.

Hermione seemed hesitant given MacNamara’s dire warning, but there were many terrible plays out there and, surely one more couldn’t mean the end of the world. Surely.

"And,” he continued, “if everything goes to plan maybe I will find someone to spend the rest of my life with.” he looked off into the distance with a rare look of sincerity on his face. It seemed to Harry like he was no longer talking to them, or even aware of them at all, as if he was ruminating on some long lost love, although what that could possibly have to do with the musical Working Boys he had no idea.

“Well I best be off. Chad’s wife isn’t going to disappear under mysterious circumstances all by herself now is she.”

“I’m just kidding,” he added, seeing the horrified expressions on their faces, although the deadpan expression and murderous squint of his eyes begged to differ.

Hidgens walked off stage never to be seen by them again. Harry was really going to miss the professor. Taking a subject that finally aligned with his interests and talents had ignited an almost Hermione-like passion to study for once. Hell if they’d taught musical theatre at Hogwarts he might even go to class for once.

“You know for a place we thought Malfoy had just made up,” Harry said, “Pigfarts has been pretty great. And aside from all the monsters and weird animal shit I’m actually really going to miss it.”

“And just think how good our grades in Martian are going to be next year,” Ron commented.

“Right then chaps,” Draco said as he strutted up to them confidently carrying the cardboard rocketship they’d arrived on. “Shall we head back?”

They all agreed and promptly began to gather round and position themselves behind the cardboard rocket as they prepared to jet off back across the solar system.

“So, what have we learned this year?” Draco asked.

“Musicals are cool, but also sometimes spooky” Ron began.

“Don’t fuck a lion, unless you’re willing to follow through emotionally,” Harry added.

“And, if strange men from another dimension randomly appear and give you their gun you should absolutely take it because that shit’s cool as all hell,” Ron exclaimed. “Look I’ve still got it!” he said drawing the long-empty firearm from out of his back pocket and pulling a series of cool poses with it.

“Oi have you got a loisence for that thing mate,” Seamus, who had been milling around with Dean near one of the benches stood up and asked.

“Well I was actually going to suggest we’ve learned that maybe the next time I, Draco Malfoy, say we should go on a fun little adventure together we should follow him without question,” Draco said.

“Fuck off Malfoy we haven’t learned that at all.” Harry said.

“Well I would say the main thing we’ve learned is the importance of friendship and forgiveness,” Hermione suggested, with a pointed look at Ron.

“What a nerd,” Ron answered, earning him a heavy scowl.

“It’s certainly been an interesting year,” Harry agreed with a whimsical sigh.

“And now I’m just glad that we’ve got these days of summer to remind us of each other,” said Ron.

“Ron, what are you talking about?” Hermione asked. “We’re all going back to the same house.”

Draco feebly raised his hand to say “I’m not” but everyone ignored him because no one cared.

“I’m just saying,” Ron continued, “that the time we have to spend apart will keep us in each others hearts.”

“Okay that’s actually an incredibly sweet thing to say,” Hermione said, shocked that something like that had come out of Ron’s mouth. “but-”

“You know,” Harry added, “I’m hoping that the good old days are something I will dream about at night.”

“Harry, you’re only 13 what the fuck are you talking about,” said Hermione.

“But it don’t matter if its sooner or later, I know that it’s going to be alright,” he continued.

“Are you two okay?” Hermione asked.

“I don’t want to see you go but it’s not forever,” Harry pushed on.

“Same house-” Hermione tried to reiterate.

“Not forever,” Ron agreed.

“And even if it was you know that I would never let it get me down because you’re the part of me that makes me better wherever I go.”

“What the fuck are you two talking about?”

“So I will try,” Harry continued.

“Not to cry,” added Ron.

“But no one needs to say goodbye.”

“That’s literally what I was just saying-” Hermione tried to interject, but it seemed that he and Ron were finally done.

“And you know,” Harry said as he looked wistfully into the distance and thought back on everything they had shared and learned together this year.

“It won’t be long now until we’re going back...”