Zymurgy, Headmistress of Hogwarts

It was a shock to the Wizarding World. Trelawney may have predicted it, but nobody listened or cared when she did. Dumbledore was leaving Hogwarts.

Dumbledore had asked McGonagall to marry him every year since she’d started teaching. She’d always refused. The final blow to the old man’s soul must have been, not that she rejected him for another, but that she rejected him in favor of a half goblin pipsqueak of a teacher who had giant toenails, namely Flitwick.

Be that as it may, events unfurled, the happy couple was married, and Albus Dumbledore shuffled off into the sunset, sniffling unhappily.

At about this time, emissaries from Hogwarts arrived at Zymurgy’s Omniscient Omnipotent Omnicoolbeans Office. Or rather, one emissary. Or rather, Professor Snape.

"I regret to inform you,” said Snape, flopping into a beanbag chair. “Hogwarts hasn’t got a Headmaster anymore.”

Zymurgy looked up from her work on a dare from a n00b. “What?”

“He left last week,” said Snape. “I was supposed inform you of your election as Headmistress then, but… I got held up.”

“By what?” asked Zym, leaning back in her chair.

“Well,” said Snape, “by the edict of the the partridge, I ..."

“What partridge?” interrupted Zym.

“The one in the pear tree, you know,” explained Snape carelessly, waiving a hand. “The thing went ahead and made it a law, that I’ll always be retarded.”

“You seem sane,” Zym pointed out warily.

“Well, yes,” said Snape. “I’m not mentally retarded. Retarded as in hindered. Held up. Impeded. I can’t get anywhere on time...”

Slowly, Zym nodded, as she added, “fashionably late, perhaps unhinged?” in her extensive file on Snape’s character.

“I’m cutting that out of the movie version,” announced Steve Kloves, popping out of the woodwork. “They won’t ever know WHY anybody does things. Oh, and we’ll never tell them who you are…just like nobody’ll ever find out who Moony is. BWAHAHA!”

Kloves disappeared, turning a coat as he left.

“Who was that unsavory character?” asked Snape.

Zymurgy shook he head. “He’s got me into such a paranoid state that I don’t go anywhere without my stapler.”

Snape raised an eyebrow. “You? The Founder of the Evil Elite, the Marathon Darer, the Rule Enforcer, the All Time Gorgeous Looking Wonderful Author, must resort to defense with Muggle office supplies?”

Zymurgy pulled the green stapler from her pocket and displayed it. “It’s the only thing that helps.”

“Of course” Snape said sadly. “but there are some forces which cannot be stopped. Where nothing helps. Like Scotch Tape Worms.”

Zymurgy made a face.

Snape shook his head sadly. “Yes, a terrible House Elf disease. It develops when they’re too depressed, gradually wrapping them into a sticky mess of dementia, until they expire. Winky has died from it, poor dear.”

Zymurgy sighed. “… to end her life like that. What is the meaning of life?”

Just then, a Dementor in pink tights glided into the room. “S’cuse me, ma’am,” he said, “but I’m here to make a complaint.”

Zymurgy looked brightly up at him. “Yes?”

The Dementor fidgeted with his hood. “It’s like this, see. Me and my friend are in your stories, but… it’s… nobody knows which of us is which.”

Zymurgy nodded and tapped her chin with a pencil. “You look very much the same, you dress the same, and nobody can see your faces…”

The Dementor nodded vigorously. “Add to that that nobody ever sticks around us because we’re soul sucking evil dudes… I just want them to know me for who I am.”

Zymurgy opened a drawer, the contents within rattling. “Lets see now,” she said, rummaging through it. “SPEW button, EEFFD button, Project Ferret button… ah ha! The “Hi! I’m Bob!” button.”

She handed the button to the Dementor who promptly bursted into tears. “I’m BILL!” he shrieked, throwing the button across the room. "I HATE YOU!"

Zymurgy shook her head, as Bill dissapeared.

Steve Klove’s head popped into the fireplace. “I’m cutting that from the movie version, too. BUT- the button will be there. And everybody will watch the movie and wonder what in the name of Merlin the button’s doing there, and how it got there! BWAHAHA!”

With a crackle of Floo Powder Steve’s head disappeared, and Snape and Zymurgy were alone once more.

“Now that we’re alone,” whispered Snape, leaning forward, “I just wanted to tell you that-“

He was interrupted when an enormous Dragon crashed through the window and landed on Zymurgy’s desk. “JUSTIFY YOUR EXISTANCE!” shouted the Dragon.

Snape blinked, shocked speechless. “Er… ah…”

“TOO LATE!” roared the Dragon. “Had your chance, MUFFED IT!” With that, the Dragon gulped Snape down, and flew off.

“Darn it all,” grumbled Zymurgy. “I’m sure that’s somehow Cassirin’s fault. Every time I get Snape alone…”

“And that,” said Steve Cloves, popping in again, “will take at LEAST ten or fifteen minutes in the movie…"

After these messages, we’ll be right back!

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We’re back- but in the Malfoy Mansion!

“Now, now,” said Lucius Malfoy, pulling on his leather gloves, “please stop pouting.”

“But,” complained Draco, “I don’t WANT to do this! The last time we did, my hair turned orange!”

Lucius shrugged. “It’s still orange,” he pointed out. “But that doesn’t matter. A Malfoy Looks Elegant in Absolutely Everything.”

Draco continued to pout.

“Look here,” snapped Lucius, “You’re the one that wanted the Suicidaly Optimistic Carnivorous African Tundra Tree of Marginally Inconsequential Fanfiction. Therefore YOU have to clean it.”

Draco rolled his eyes and sighed. “Oh come on, dad,” he whined. “You don’t make me clean up after the owl, do you? Or all my other pets? Why do I have to take care of the plant? I just wanted it because Potter hasn’t got one…”

Lucius smirked. “Draco, my boy,” he said, “seeing as we no longer possess a House Elf, yes, you DO have to clean up after your pets. Not to mention your room, the laboratory, and the blood on the dungeon floor. As for Harry Potter, I’ll get that pretty, and his little owl, too!”

Draco pouted. “Look, let’s just throw out the tree,” he suggested. “After all, its spines are ugly, and it jiggles like jello… it’s brown and disgusting and those leaves…”

“I didn’t ask for a description,” snapped Lucius. “I asked you to clean up after those crazy downy flowers it’s shedding. And if you can’t do it yourself, get our House Elf back and make him do it! You’re not in Kansas anymore!”

Lucius turned on his heel and marched out of the room.

Draco took one look at the floor, and decided that he would never be able to clean it. He was ankle deep in the strange yellow flowers, which looked vaguely like packing peanuts, not that Draco had ever seen any. He sighed. “I’ll have to get that ruddy elf back,” he grumbled. “Just when I thought I wouldn’t have to go back to school over the holls…”

Meanwhile, back in Hogwarts, Zymurgy was having slight trouble with her staff. The House Elves were refusing to work, but also refused to say why. When asked the reason for their strike, they simply moaned, “Oh the shame of it!” and banged their heads with the nearest blunt objects.

“Hermione,” pleaded Zymurgy, “tell the Elves to get back to work! They respect you! You lead SPEW!”

“I won’t,” snapped Hermione. “Because I’m NEVER in your fics! NEVER EVER!”

“Please,” begged Zymurgy. “I’ll even sing the Sesame Street song!”

Zymurgy began to sing, but Hermione sang louder.

“Zymurgy is our Queen,” sang Hermione. “She cannot rule a single theeng, her fics all stink, and so we think, Zymurgy is our QUEEN!!”

Zym let her head fall onto her new Headmistress’ desk with a thunk. “ZYMURGY IS OUR QUEEEEEEEN!” sang Hermione, skipping down the halls. “Zymurgy is our QUEEEEEEN!” In fact, she sand the song a total of 50 times, each time getting progressively higher pitched, when she’d reached the high C, she became so excited that she lost her footing, plunged off a moving staircase, to her death.

Poppy Pomfrey put on a pair of rubber gloves, and sighed. “What is the meaning of life?” she asked herself, as she dragged Hermione’s body to the Hospital Wing.

Steve Kloves walked by and surveyed the blood on the floor. “Eh…” he said, “I guess that can stay in the movie version. But only if she wears a miniskirt… but I’m cutting out the song- and putting in more frogs. There aren’t enough frogs in this story…” He walked off, muttering to himself and scribbling on a yellow pad.

Zymurgy, seeing that her only emissary to the House Elves was dead, decided to go see them for herself. “Please,” she begged for the hundredth time, “WHY are you striking?”

“OH THE SHAME OF IT!” they chorused, banging their heads. “THE SHAME! THE SHAME!”

Seamus rolled by, doing tumble turns, and shouting, “I’m a pretty, pretty girl!” The SlashMonster was chasing him, club raised on high.

Steve Kloves was chasing the monster, shouting, “We can leave it in! We’ll cut the House Elves strike to make it fit! It’ll boost the ratings!”

Zymurgy looked after them and shook her head. “I don’t want to know,” she said to herself. “I really don’t want to know.”

“OH THE SHAME OF IT!” yelled the House Elves, continuing their self-punishment. “THE SHAME!”

Zymurgy plugged her ears. “Will somebody PLEASE tell me what the shame is!”

Somebody tugged her robe from the back, and she whirled round to see a shamefaced and tearful Dobby.

“I is being the shame,” he sobbed. “I is developing Athletes Foot. I is even swearing off socks, but it is not helping, and my feet is being infected and disgusting. I is being a danger to my fellow House Elves. I is also sounding like a three year old because of this being wonky grammar.”

Zymurgy sighed. “Well, if you had a Suicidaly Optimistic Carnivorous African Tundra Tree of Marginally Inconsequential Fan fiction, you could use the extract of the flowers to cure your feet, and…”

Dobby only looked glummer. “The only such trees is being cultivated by Dobby’s old family. Dobby will never be getting help from them.”

Just then, Draco rounded the corner. “Dobby, THERE you are,” he snapped. “You must come home at ONCE! That thrice condemned tree is shedding flowers all over the place, and I can’t clean it up.”

Dobby brightened. “Master Draco is taking Dobby back? Master Draco is letting Dobby have the flowers?”

Draco scowled. “Only if you can fix my hair.”

“Hurray!” said Dobby. “Dobby is going home! Dobby is back with his family! Dobby is being a good elf and living happily ever after!”

“NOT SO FAST!” roared the Dragon, swooping in. “FIRST DOBBY IS JUSTIFYING HIS EXISTANCE.”

“Er…” said Dobby. “Dobby is not thinking…”

“TOO LATE!” interrupted the Dragon. “Had your chance, MUFFED IT!”

The Dragon gulped Dobby down, and flew off.

“Eeew,” said Malfoy, pinching his nose, “that was revolting.”

“Stop pinching your nose, Draco,” warned Zymurgy, “it’ll stay that way.”

Draco let go of his nose, and pulled out a small hand mirror. “It IS that way,” he snapped. “It’s aristocratic.”

“It’s pinched,” replied Zymurgy. “Don’t know why the girls love you. You’re ugly and pointy faced, not to mention snooty, stuck up, cruel and evil.”

Draco bursted into tears. “They don’t love me!” he wailed. “They only love Tom Felton! And Harry Potter! That’s why I had to get the tree… but nobody noticed, and nobody cared, and I didn’t even get Witch Weakly’s Most Charming Guy in Gardening Gear Award!”

“I noticed,” said a high quavering voice. “But I’m a fruit bat, so you won’t care.”

Draco spun round, to see Luna Lovegood. Her wand was holding her hair in a messy bun, and she was dressed in electric blue robes with a jump rope for a belt.

“Lovegood,” sneered Draco, in typical pureblood fashion, “You’re wearing a jump rope for a belt…”

“I tried to teach Hagrid,” she said, her head lolling to one side, “but he just said fruit bats can’t jump…”

Suddenly, Draco had a change of heart. He ceased to be cruel and evil minded, his heart swelling with a new emotion- love.

“Luna,” he said, falling to his knees, “I think I love you.”

“That’s nice,” said Luna vaguely. “But I’m a fruit bat. It can never be.”

A House Elf in the background began to play on a yellow violin, tears dripping from it’s overly large eyes and splashing onto the instrument.

“Please, Luna,” begged Draco. “Reform me. Bring me from the darkness to the light. I don’t care if you are a fruit bat, or batty, or loony. I just.. when I look in your eyes…I feel… a new reason for being. A reason not to join with skeletal red eyed evil dudes. Will you marry me?”

“All right,” said Luna. “But you’ll have to help me prove the existence of Steve Kloves.”

“I love you!” shouted Draco, joyfully sweeping her into his arms. “Let’s go back to the manor.

But before the odd pair could live happily ever after, the Dragon swooped in. “JUSTIFY YOUR EXISTANCE!” it shouted at Draco.

“Er… ah…” stuttered Draco.

“TOO LATE!” roared the Dragon. “Had your chance. MUFFED IT!”

The Dragon gulped down Draco, and flew off.

Luna sighed. “Oh well,” she said, “it wouldn’t have been a happy marriage. I’m a fruit bat, and he was a vampire…’

Zymurgy cleared her throat. “That was all very nice and touching,” she said, “but we have more important things to deal with right now. House Elves, now that the SHAME is gone, can you continue work?”

Immediately, all the House Elves banged their heads. “THE SHAME OF IT!” they yelled. “THE SHAME OF IT IS BEING WITH US STILL!”

“You mean,” said Zym, “that the Shame wasn’t Dobby?”

“Dobby is being the OTHER shame!” they yowled. “THE SHAME OF IT IS WITH US STILL!”

“This I’m definitely cutting from the movie,” said Kloves wandering into the room. “It won’t fit with the SlashMonster, and you can’t do pan shots in this cramped kitchen…”

“You can’t COOK in this Kitchen EITHER!” shouted Molly Weasley, stamping into the room. “AND I REFUSE TO DO SO ANY LONGER!”

“Mrs. Weasley?” asked Zymurgy confusedly. “What are you doing here?”

”The Shame!” whimpered the Elves, backing up from the furious red head. “The Shame is getting loose! The Shame is quitting!”

“I get it!” said Neville, who’d been watching the entire drama unfold from the rafters where he’d been stuck since Peeves stashed him there the day before. “Mrs. Weasley is the shame! Eureka!”

“I do NOT smell!” snarled Molly, rounding on the boy.

“I never said you did,” stuttered Neville.

“Yes, you did!” screeched Molly. “You said I reeked! That’s the last straw! I refuse to be insulted! I’m LEAVING!”

Molly ran off in a rage.

The House Elves were in a terrible state of weeping and crying. “The Shame has left! Oh the Shame of it! We is not knowing how to cook! We is not knowing what to do…”

“Harry’ll know what to do,” suggested Neville. “He’s a hero! He’ll fix everything!”

“Let’s go find him,” said Zymurgy. “To the bat cave!”

Zymurgy rushed off to find Harry, and the Elves rushed off to iron their hands. Neville was left stuck on the rafters. Luna came up and joined him there, because, as a fruit bat, she needed to hang from the ceiling. They got along very well together and lived happily ever after.

Zymurgy, in the meantime, had found Harry’s dormitory, and saw that he was fast asleep.

“RISE AND SHINE!” shouted Zymurgy. “UP AND AT ‘EM!”

Harry looked up groggily. “Whaa?”

“GET UP!” shouted Zymurgy. “HOGWARTS NEEDS YOU!”

Harry fumbled for his glasses. “Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Five more minutes…”

“Err…” said Zymurgy, “before you come and rescue everything, why have you got a cupcake stuck to your head?”

Harry sighed. “I tried to boost my energy with batteries, but… you know. Electricity just doesn’t work the same in Hogwarts.”

Zymurgy nodded. “You need to save Hogwarts. The House Elves are revolting!”

Harry nodded. “I know. Have you ever watched one eat?”

“Not that kind of revolting,” snapped Zym. “They’re refusing to work.”

“What’s that got to do with me?” asked Harry, removing his glasses again, and snuggling back into bed, smearing frosting onto the pillow.

“You’re the hero of the story!” shouted Zymurgy. “You NEED to save the day!”

“I only save people from Voldemort and Monsters,” grumbled Harry. “And I’m exhausted. Good night.”

Zymurgy tried to wake Harry, with very little luck.

Back in Mafoy Manner, Lucius Malfoy was looking into his globe and chortling evilly. “Poppies,” he cackled. “Poppies will make them sleep…”

Slowly, he coated the globe with a sticky red liquid. “Poppies… I’ll get that little pretty,” he snickered, watching Zymurgy trying to shake Harry awake, “and her little hero, too!”

Zymurgy finally gave up waking Harry, and went to get help. It was then she realized that the entire population of the castle was asleep.

“Something is amiss,” she said, getting out her wand, “somebody thinks they’re the Wicked Witch of the West!”

“I AM THE WICKED WITCH OF THE WEST!” shouted Lucius, arriving on a broomstick. “And you shall come with me and live happily ever after!”

“Er…” said Zym. “That’s…. thanks for asking, but you’re… er… married to Lotus, not to mention… blond.”

“I am the WICKED WITCH OF THE WEST!” shouted Lucius again. “DO NOT DEFY ME!”

Zymurgy was spared by the only being not asleep: The Dragon.

“JUSTIFY YOUR EXISTANCE!” the Dragon roared.

Lucius cowered, and tried to keep his hair from being singed. “Er…”

“TOO LATE!” shouted the Dragon. “Had your chance! MUFFED IT!”

The Dragon gulped down Lucius and flapped off on his merry way.

“Darn it all,” grumbled Zymurgy. “What’ll I do now? All my characters are asleep or dead…”

“It’s ok,” said Steve Kloves, who for some odd reason had escaped the poppies. “You can just cut it out of the movie and never explain it.”

Zym sighed. “I suppose I’ll have to.”

“Now that it’s over,” said Steve. “Can I get you anything?”

Zymurgy perked up at once. “I’ll have a glass of milk,” she said. “On the rocks. And YOU can be the one to write all my back dares, now that you’re here, oh- and welcome the n00bs and run the thread and…”

Steve ran off screaming into the night and was never seen again.

Just then, Professor Snape wandered in, looking a bit the worse for the wear, but very much alive.

“Snape!” cried Zymurgy, overjoyed. “You’re alive!”

Snape raised an eyebrow. “So it would seem. The Dragon swallowed me whole, so I used a Regurgitus.”

“Why didn’t you do it before?” sobbed Zymurgy, falling into his arms.

“Well, you know,” said Snape, giving her a hug. “I worked as fast as I could, but my progress was retarded by all these people who kept telling me millions of reasons for their existence…”

And they lived happily ever after.

Until one day Cassirin became number five and shouted “SNAPE IS MY MAN!”