Meir Brin woke up early Wednesday morning to the sound of tapping at her door. Wiping the sleep out of her eyes, she recognized the scraping of Mini-Aragog feet before seven spiders burst into her room, all untangled and dripping wet. Unlike most of the Mini-Aragogs, these spiders were not so big or muscular as the normal variety, and probably did not play in the MAPLE league. Nevertheless, they were frightened, and that was an unusual trait in Mini-Aragogs.

“What is it now?” yawned Meir Brin, checking the clock. It was only four.

Mogonagle stepped forward, shivering slightly. “Missingses! Many missingses... Cannot playses tricks, cannot go climbingses... All goneses! All goneses!”

“Steady on,” said Meir Brin. “You mean that some of the Mini-A’s have gone missing?”

Perry rolled his eight eyes. “Yeses. And we’reses Mini-Aragogs, not ‘Mini-A’ses’.”

Blinking rapidly, Meir Brin reached for her cloak. “Sorry. Could you hang on a little bit? I’ll be down in a minute.”

Approximately ten minutes later, the HFA coordinator found herself outside in the predawn light following the Mini-Aragogs through the Forbidden Forest. Grumbling under her breath, Meir Brin kept a mental tally of the tree branches, roots, and spiders that she tripped over. At last, the Mini-Aragogs reached their destination: Aragog’s domain.

Great domed webs were spun all over the place, some proclaiming interesting messages such as “Have you tortured a fangirl today?” and “Lockhardt’s Hair Spray Potion: Makes Fur Shiny Soft!” At the far corner of the arachnid domain, Aragog was busy scribbling love notes to Shelob, who had returned to her home at OFUM.

“Lookses,” said Mogonagle, shaking out her black fur and pointing to the trees, which teemed with webbing and Mini-Aragog nests. “Only fortyses here; we missingses three hundredses!”

Readjusting her glasses, Brin was struggled to comprehend this. It was too early in the morning. “But... surely there are others elsewhere? In the castle, or guarding their name-mistakes...”

Perry (who was one of Percy Weasley’s name-mistakes) shook his head (body? abdomen?). “We comeses to watcheses MSTses. All here, none up at school.”

Meir Brin didn’t know whether to be worried or angry. “You have MSTs here? Where did you get them? May I see?” Then adopting an Arthur Weasley-esque change of attitude, she corrected herself. “But who’s guarding the lust-objects, then?”

Perry waved a leg dismissively. “Putses the Marauders and Dursely onses the jobses. Pretty safeses, no doubts.”

Meir Brin had to agree. Few students had managed to get past the Dursely Jelly-monster yet. And those who had had come out smelling like potpourri and Grandma’s jam rolls, which did wonders at deterring the Canon Characters. “But still, where are all of the Minis? I have over four hundred of you registered; you can’t just disappear!”

Mogonagle clacked her pincers. “Don’t knowses. Here one day, lost tomorrowses. Looked, and looked, but not comingses back! Where’d they goeses?”

A shadow of worry crossed Meir Brin’s face. “It is most curious. If anything, I would say that you Mini-Aragogs are our strongest defense. To strip HFA of its guardians... is it the fangirls’ chicanery, or is our Canon falling apart?”

*********

Ally White fidgeted in her seat nervously. It was not an uncommon occurrence. HFA as a whole was radiating apprehension. Whether it was the students happily counting the days until Book the Fifth, or the Canon Characters awaiting their transformation, all appeared as if someone had poured worms down their pants, or afflicted them with a Jittering Charm.

Looking up at the stage, Ally looked at the program folded in her hands. “The Pirates of Penance: An HFA Production.” Truthfully, Ally did not mind this disturbance from her regular classes. Though the Slasherings were all complaining about it (as their House made up the bulk of the cast), Ally couldn’t help but feel relieved that she didn’t have to sit through Professor Binns’ droning on about the difference between a crumpet and a bagel.

The curtain rose slowly, as if hesitant to begin. At once, a wailing unlike anything Ally had ever heard before started up. Looking at the seats up ahead of her, Danica Maupoissant’s ears had actually started to bleed. Snapping her drool-cloth over her head, Ally looked at the stage tentatively.

Fifteen house-elves had been given specialized Dress‒Dish Cloths. Their mouths were opened, and they were wailing as if someone had poured lava over their toes. It was the Chumdeleidalalala spell, the FCS that broke eardrums and trampled through a fanwriter’s mind like a herd of elephants. Ally started stuffing liberal amounts of cotton into her ears.

The next portion of the program began with an amusing light show. The Mini-Aragogs seemed to have acquired laser pointers, and after deafening the fanwriters appeared to want to blind them as well. Ally pulled her towel over her head, and fingered her five-spelling wand. Much as she would have liked to, cursing the Mini-Aragogs did not seem to be one of the better ideas, especially after Catrin Pritchard had attempted it. (She was currently enjoying her time in Professor McGonagall’s care as the new “human Transfiguration demonstrator,” and showed up every so often with panda paws or walrus whiskers.) Most of the fanwriters had come to the conclusion that their wands could work on each other, and on the general surroundings, but not on the staff members. A major disappointment, to say the least.

Later on in the evening, GwendolynMorgan was tossed onto the stage, wearing what looked like a pea coat made of seaweed. She began to sing, nervously.

I am the very model of a silly sort of fanwriter,
I’ve information haphazard, random, and slightly canonical,
I know the Heir of Slytherin, and I quote the duels historical
From Azkaban to Honeydukes, in order categorical;

I’m very well acquainted, too, with matters of Transmutation,
I understand d’vination, both the orb-like and palmistrical,
About Herbology I’m knowing ’bout a lot o’ neat old potion brews,
With many painful facts about HFA’s methods o’ magic-abuse.

Then Ablus and Mavello the Mini-Aragogs showed up and chased her offstage. The Canon Characters, in their soundproof and polarized box, applauded loudly and laughed as even more Mini-Aragogs chased Knightsky and Bre behind the curtains.

Ally was about to take cover (she could sense a “burn the fanwriter” riot coming on), when suddenly a tremor shot through the ground. A flock of owls were dislodged from the rafters and swooped down to take a safer position. Ally’s stomach gave a lurch as the lights flickered. Lumos... she thought, panicking, Why couldn’t they have taught us Lumos?

At the back of the hall, Lucius Malfoy and Barty Crouch Jr. jumped to their feet, sealing off the doors magically. Ally heard Redfire, seated next to her, whisper happily that this must be it, Book Five was here!

The ground lurched once more, and what looked like a giant rip opened up in the sky. Light poured into the Hall, and a strange thumping noise could be heard, almost like “Brum, be-diddly bump bump! Brum, bidilly ump, ump! Bump, bump, boom!”

At the back of the Hall, Ally heard Meir Brin’s reassurances to the Canon Characters, “This cannot be Book Five! It’s not even June yet!”

“Then what is it?” shouted Draco Malfoy over the earthquake.

“I know, I’ve read about this!” called Hermione, stabilizing herself against the wall. “It must be a rumor, or speculation! But—I don’t understand; this couldn’t affect us! It isn’t confirmed—” Hermione was cut off as the earth vibrated once more, and the Gryffindor student was thrown to the ground.

At once the rip vanished, and the tremors stopped. Ally brushed the remains of her singed blonde hair out of her eyes, and tried to locate any of the fanwriters who might have come through the ordeal unharmed. The Great Hall looked like a disaster area. What had been a neat, well-ordered auditorium before had been smashed and turned on end. Chairs were strewn around like a pile of pick-up sticks; one was actually halfway through the wall. The torches were beginning to re-ignite themselves, though a few were taking on the form of a pineapple, for some odd reason.

And scribbled on the wall, in a color that could only be described as “Blello,” were the ominous words: “Buk 5 is comin! Teh Order of the Phenoix! Yay! I wanna go to Hoggiewarts!11“

Ally’s stomach turned. What had just happened?

---

Author’s Notes: There is a passage in this chapter based upon the song “I Am the Very Model of a Modern Major-General” from The Pirates of Penzance. Just so you know, I don’t own that musical; Gilbert and Sullivan do. Cheers to all of you guys who have reviewed; I love to get feedback. ^_^