Ally stumbled into “Bane of Filch” silently cursing Mini-Aragogs, homework, and Mini-Aragogs. She dearly hoped that her essay, “Evaluate Fred and George’s top five pranks and explain their ingenuity to the extreme,” was long enough. Mika Sei, in Lusterbuff, had handed in a “Fun with Puns” essay that had neglected to come to the last margin. Ally also hoped that Sirius Black, Fred and George Weasley were more lenient than Professor Snape.

At their two desks at the head of the classroom, Fred and George were writing something with immense secrecy. In the back of the classroom, Sirius Black was polishing his fingernails and generally trying to look as escaped-convicty as possible. “We’re all accounted for?” asked George, looking to Fread and Geroge the Mini-Aragogs, who were taking roll call.

“All hereses,” rasped Geroge, shooting a glance at Kellie Owens. It was a patented Mini-Aragog “glomp my namesake and die” look.

“Ah, excellent,” said Fred, standing up and cracking his knuckles. “Where did we leave off last week?”

“At ‘Screaming Yo-Yos and Fanged Frisbees Are For Amateurs, Professionals Make Their Own Pranking Devices’,” commented Sirius Black, stroking Buckbeat the Mini-Aragog.

“Oh yes, of course,” said George. “Now, do we have any students who would like to Volunteer to help with this lesson?” Several of the Weasley Twins Lusters hesitated. But good sense prevailed in the end. One does not Volunteer at HFA unless they are carrying some sort of large weaponry or are on narcotics.

“No one?” said Fred, looking disappointed. “I suppose we’ll have to resort to the Test Dummy.” The Weasley twin strode over to what appeared to be a raised platform hidden by a shower curtain. He drew back the curtain and laughed. Sirius Black had modified the standard “Bane of Filch” Hex-Test-Dummy into a life-sized replica of Professor Snape.

The Snape Fan club—Sevvie’s Angels—hissed. The non-Snape fangirls had always found that faction very odd. In Ally’s words: “Anyone who likes someone so mean to Harry is—is—Ewwie! And he’s got greasy hair, too.”

Ashura Rowena Dumbledore had nearly maimed Ally after that phrase. In another bout of self-improvement, Ally had learned not to mess with the lust-objects of others. Those that did usually awoke to a recording of “Chumdeleidalalala.”

“Now,” said George, opening up a box with the words “Dangerous: Not for Fangirls” on it. “Who can tell me what this is?”

KazraGirl of Wantingmor leaned forward to gain a closer look. “I think it’s cheese... Really moldy cheese, maybe?”

George looked horrified. “Brother Fred, do enlighten the Unenlightened! No mere cheese is this!”

Fred smiled wickedly. Several Fred-and-George Fangirls swooned. “It is our latest creation. We are no longer content to use the products of others, so...” Fred scooped up a handful of the powdered cheese and threw it at the Hex-Test-Dummy.

There was an explosion of Wilver mist. HFA had recently looked into acquiring its own color, Wilver, and now it had sprung up everywhere. Rumor had it that Meir Brin was negotiating with the PPC to bring Wilver into the Fanfiction Academy as a student punishment. The putrid milky color hadn’t blinded anyone yet, but that was perhaps because the Wilver was on loan as a demo. Ally dearly hoped that the bargain wouldn’t come through.

When the fog cleared, the class was presented with the Severus Snape model complete with flowery robe, garland, and May Queen wand.

“Antithesis Powder,” said Sirius, smiling thinly. “Very nice.”

“One of the major theories behind pranking an individual is the Antithesis effect, which—” George stopped mid-sentence. “What is your question?”

“What’s an ‘anti’—‘antithees’—”

“Antithesis, Miss Redfire,” Sirius said, restraining Buckbeat. As his name would imply, Buckbeat was inclined to a violent nature and often attacked the students. Stephanie Brown had the bumps to prove it. “It is another word for opposite,” said Black.

“We must remember to restrict our word use to less than three syllables,” commented Fred, resealing the Antithesis Powder box.

“Illiterate fangirls...” sighed George, admiring the Hex-Test-Dummy’s vernal regalia.

“As we were saying,” Fred continued, “one of the primary aspects one must achieve in pranking is the opposite effect. Let us continue with our example of Professor Snape. What comes to mind when one thinks of Professor Snape?”

“Strict,” said Mika Sei, looking at the pompoms that the professor in question had transplanted onto her fingertips.

“Yummy!” said Grandmomma Longlegs, receiving an odd look from Sirius.

“Greasy,” said Ally, shrinking back into her seat as the Sevvie’s Angels glared in her direction.

“That’s all very good,” said George, writing the words on the chalkboard. “Now what are some words which do not describe Professor Snape?”

“Lenient,” said Molly W. Ally had recently heard that Molly W had joined the Daycare staff. Unfortunately, the only child that was there happened to be Voldemort Junior, the nasty baby-type thing that Lord Voldemort had been before his resurrection. Completing the Voldemort trio, this creature had kept Molly W’s hands full all weekend after he had hitched a ride on Quirril the Mini-Aragog and run rampant throughout the castle. After Quirril and Voldemort Junior (or “Little Voldiekins” to Tom and Lord Voldemort (senior)) had destroyed Snape’s private potions lab, Molly W had received the full wrath of the Potions master.

“Cheerful?” offered Riona.

“Nice?” giggled Redfire. The Shroom came this close to killing her.

“How about ‘benevolent’?” said a silky voice from the doorway. Professor Snape—the real Professor Snape—had arrived.

“Ai, a Potions master has come!” said Dimond, trying to look inconspicuous.

“Clever,” said Snape, gesturing to the Hex-Test-Dummy. “I suppose the ‘Dress up Severus Snape as something out of the ordinary’ idea hadn’t turned up for a while. Very original.”

“Didn’t... ask... Prof. Snape’s... opinion?” Penelope Ross then realized that she had said it out loud and pointed to a framed piece of parchment above the instructors’ desks. “What is that?”

Snape turned quickly to look at the old paper, which was continuing to write words upon itself magically. “I thought that was burned,” he snarled.

George grinned. “We couldn’t burn the Map. It’s our friend!”

Fred chuckled. “The Marauder’s Map says that you should leave before the May Faeries come and bring you back to the jolly festivities.”

George chimed in. “The Marauder’s Map says that you’re a nitwit.”

“The Marauder’s Map says...”

*********

“... and the vict—students will be in for a real treat.”

Meir Brin poked the bluish-white liquid of the Pensive with the Switch of Character Banishment. The Pensive, another fan-created typo, had come with magical powers of its own. A telephone-like property was one of them.

“When will the transportation be ready?” said the HFA coordinator, looking into the glassy reflections of the Pensive.

“We must look into that,” said the voice from the Pensive.

“Agreed. I will scan for a large plothole in the near future. One big enough may suffice,” said Meir Brin.

“I believe that is all?” came the woman’s voice once again from the Styrofoam basin.

“Yes,” said the HFA coordinator. “Meir Brin out.”