Dumbledore, Please Explain Your Twisted Logic!

Disclaimer: Once again, I own nothing.

A/N: Attention! This is your last chance to guess the crossover before it's revealed! I'll save its disclaimer for Chapter 25, when its connections in the story are revealed in its entirety.

Chapter Twenty-three

Courtroom Drama

Early Friday morning Hermione stumbled into Arithmancy out of breath, loaded down with a dozen books in her bag and ten rolls of parchment in her arms. Vector stood by the door with her wand in her hand, collecting the Arithmancy projects as each student walked in. As soon as Hermione saw her, she shoved the scrolls at her; Vector magicked them into a cohesive group and set them in a large box on a back-row desk. "Thank you, Miss Granger," she said with a smile.

"Thank you," Hermione sighed. This project was out of her hands, and she was so relieved. That Professor Vector was waiting by the door only made her happier: She wanted that projected out of her hands as soon as possible, and here her professor stood ready to whisk it away. If only all teachers were as compassionate!

Her Arithmancy project was crap. She just knew it. It looked okay when she first wrote it, but the revision process had been hell; her sentence construction was terrible, her outline incoherent, and her points totally irrelevant. She was sure she'd get a bad grade on it.

But do you know what? Hermione thought, I don't care anymore! It's all over with. It's out of my hands, and there's nothing I can do now except rejoice that it's done. With this comforting thought, she trudged to her seat and collapsed in it.

No sooner had she pulled out her books and opened her notes than the magically enhanced voice of Professor McGonagall boomed throughout the school: "Will the cast and crew of Dumbledore's play please report immediately to the Great Hall? I repeat, will the cast and crew of Dumbledore's play please report immediately to the Great Hall?"

"Damn it," Hermione muttered to herself as she repacked her bags. What could Dumbledore want that was important enough to interrupt classes? Did it have to do with Harry? Her best friend had spent all yesterday fuming in his dormitory, and today he'd wandered off to the Astronomy Tower and refused to go to class, even though she'd given him an earful over it. For some reason he hadn't taken it well when she'd predicted that he'd get a T on all his NEWTS. He stormed off after that, leaving her frustrated at his current state of mind. Was he even now, two hours later, still unreasonably furious? Was Dumbledore planning on replacing him?

"Off you go, then, Miss Granger," Professor Vector said as Hermione strode past her. "Don't forget to get the notes from someone else."

"Will do," Hermione said over her shoulder. Then she was out of the room and down the hallway.

Five minutes later, Hermione traipsed into the Great Hall just as the last of the fifty cast and crew members came in behind her. Everyone was gathered in the center of the room between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables. Professor McGonagall was there, along with Professor Flitwick and even Professor Snape, but there was no Dumbledore. Where is that old man? Hermione wondered.

"What's going on?" Ron asked Hermione as they pressed closer toward the three teachers.

"No idea," Hermione replied. "Have you seen Harry?"

"Still skipping," Ron said, giving a helpless little shrug. "I'll try to talk to him during lunch. How 'bout I tell him that it'll be all over in two days, and that he can prank the balls off of Dumbledore for the rest of the year? How 'bout I even plan out some tricks with him? Do you think that'll get him around?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Hermione said gravely. "I hope to Merlin that'll to the trick."

"Attention, please," McGonagall cried into her purple megaphone. "Attention, all of you." The students' chatter died down quickly, thanks mostly to a helping glare from Snape. "I'm afraid I have some bad news."

"Ooh, this can't be good," Ron whispered seriously to Hermione.

"Is it about Dumbledore?" Orla Quirke called out.

"Yes, it is," McGonagall said, pitying the students as they blinked owlishly in the sudden grip of apprehension. Hermione felt a knot of worry fill her stomach--a bigger knot, that is, than was already present from pre-performance jitters. "I have just learned from the portraits in Professor Dumbledore's office that he..." she choked a little and had to compose herself. Hermione's heart plummeted. Had Dumbledore died? He was the oldest living thing on campus by now, and however indestructible he seemed, he, too, had to kick the bucket at one time or another. After all, just how many decades above 100 years was he? Please don't be dead, Dumbledore! Hermione begged silently. Please...

"He..." McGonagall continued, "Professor Dumbledore has been arrested."

"Whew!" Hermione said aloud. "That's not so..." Her voice trailed off as Ron turned to her, looking a bit sick. "Oh... oh Merlin... The play!"

"Without the headmaster, the play will have to be cancelled," Professor McGonagall said, her voice quivering. And before she could continue, the hall burst into outrage.

"That's no fair! We spent two months working on that play!"

"Don't tell me I memorized all my lines for nothing!"

"We didn't stay up two weeks to design and sew all those fucking costumes, only to have the play cancelled!"

Professor Snape glared at all of them and sent off a loud firecracker from the tip of his wand. He looked so terrifying in the painfully red glow that the students fell silent right away. "Professor McGonagall would finish," he snarled, "if you lot had the grace to be quiet for longer than the five seconds with which your pitiful attention spans allow you to cope."

So the students stayed quiet for five seconds. After ten, McGonagall stepped forward. "Thank you, Professor Snape. Anyhow, as I was saying, if we cannot retrieve the headmaster before tonight's play, we shall have to cancel."

"But he's been arrested!" Draco burst out. "How can we get around that?"

"The charges were trumped up," McGonagall said. "The parents found some loophole and likely bribed a judge to hear the case."

"What, so do we have to pay bail or something?" Justin Finch-Fletchley asked. "Because if we can't get him back before the trial, we're fucked."

"Ten points from Hufflepuff, Mister Finch-Fletchley," McGonagall said severely. "I don't ever want to hear you use that kind of language again... outside tonight's play, that is. As I said, the charges are trumped up. So is the trial--it is taking place in thirty minutes in Courtroom 10 in the Ministry of Magic."

This was followed by another small uproar. "That's barely enough time to get there, let alone plan a legal defense!" Dean Thomas yelled.

"Then we'd better do some quick thinking!" McGonagall said severely. "I'll be damned if those parents get away with canceling two months of your hard work--and for what? So they can keep the illusion that you're still children who can't judge for themselves? I don't think so!"

And she marched from the Great Hall. "Keep up!" she snapped. The students looked nonplussed at the outburst, but they shrugged and jogged after her. Snape and Flitwick took the rear, and together the fifty students and three teachers headed out onto the grounds.

"Hypocrite," Justin mumbled as they stumbled down the steep path to the gates. The skies were gray, and the ground was soft from a leftover snow. "How come she can swear and I can't?"

"There's a big difference between fuck and damn, Justin," Hermione said. "Now let's stop thinking about that and start thinking up a way to get Dumbledore out of this mess."

"It'll be like a debate," Ernie said excitedly. "We have to figure out some real solid points that'll make the case against Dumbledore too weak to hold up."

"Good idea, Ernie," Luna said mildly. "I'll tell them that the Heebripple supports the nudity, and thus it should be allowed. That should work, I think."

"Yeah," Ernie said, ignoring her. "Anyway, what I'm thinking is that... is that... wait, to which loophole did Dumbledore fall victim?"

"The parents found one court case from the beginning of the 19^th Century," said McGonagall, who had fallen back when she sensed an idea brewing. "Its ruling forbids that the headmaster and the staff be in the presence of nude students.

"Okay, then," Ernie said brightly, "we just tell them that Harry and Luna aren't going to go starkers until tonight."

"We can't actually say their names, though," Hermione said, "thanks to Dumbledore's spell. But yeah, Dumbledore hasn't broken the law, so he shouldn't have been arrested."

"But he was going to break the law tonight," Professor McGonagall countered. "And the parents are sure to bring that point up. I'm sure they've rigged the jury or some other such nonsense. I must be honest: Thing are looking mighty grim at the moment."

At this point they reached the gate. Snape and Flitwick opened it, and in another minute all of them were outside the Hogwarts grounds. "We'll Apparate from here to the Ministry," McGonagall said. "Those who can't Apparate will side-along with those who can." The students grouped off until everyone had a witch or wizard with a license to Apparate. Then McGonagall vanished, taking three Third-Years with her. Everyone else followed in close succession, leaving nothing behind but a swirl of dust in the cold winter air.

They appeared inside the Ministry moments later at the designated Apparation Checkpoint. As big as their group was, it flooded the platform and knocked a dozen unfortunate Ministry workers to the ground. Half the students were on the floor, disoriented and a little sick. One Second-Year threw up. Euan Abercrombie gaped in shock as he tried to push himself to his feet, only to realize that his legs had detached themselves during the journey; Justin Finch-Fletchley had Splinched the two of them.

"Are you all right, Miss Meadowpatter?" McGonagall asked the girl who had thrown up.

"Yes," she said, stepping away from the vomit. Lavender Conjured her a glass of water, and the girl gratefully took a large mouthful, swirled it around, and spit it on the floor. "Thanks," she said. "I feel a lot better without the leftover chunks in my mouth."

"Will you be able to continue?" McGonagall asked her. "And you, Masters Abercrombie and Finch-Fletchley."

"It's just a Splinching!" Euan Abercrombie said quickly. "We can fix it later. Justin, would you mind--?"

"Not at all," Justin said quickly. He gathered up Euan's legs, along with his nose, his ears, one of his arms, and one of his eyeballs. "Hey, Lavender, take--"

"Eurgh, get them away from me!" Lavender squealed, dodging behind Parvati.

"We must keep going!" Flitwick called out. He and the other two teachers broke into a quick stride, and the other students followed behind. Meanwhile, the one-armed Justin and the legless Euan were stranded with a pile of body parts.

"Here," Ron said quickly as he passed. "Hermione, help me, please."

"Sure," she said, Conjuring a gigantic Ziploc bag. "In they go." Ron dumped the body parts into the bag, and she zipped the seal.

Justin breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks a load, Ron and Hermione." He hefted Euan's torso in his good arm, and the four of them jogged after the rest of the group.

~~~~~

"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, you are brought before the court on this day, Friday the 5^th of December, 1997, for violation of the precedence set by the 1803 Wizengamot case The Parents vs. Dwyrtle Plumm."

In Courtroom 10, the case had just started. A stubby, oily judge named Turpentyn sat on two hidden pillows behind a podium, right at the edge of the sunken central dais that held the defendant's seat. In this seat sat Dumbledore, bound by magical chains that choked his arms, legs, and neck. He had refused every form of clothing the Aurors had tried to force upon him; as such, he was as naked as he was the night before. And yet, for one so confined and exposed, he looked remarkably comfortable.

"The witnesses for the prosecution are The Parents, numbering eighty, and headed by Ivana Bolton Chatterley." The parents sat in the raised rows behind the judge, and each wore a smile that curled in vindication. Ivana's heart soared to cloud nine at the sound of her name, for it once again reminded her that she bore the glorious responsibility of finally bringing the downfall of Hogwarts' most despicable headmaster! All that was left now was to manipulate the jury, and that was a cakewalk. Scratch that, this was a cakewalk in comparison to a cakewalk. The twelve members in the jury box happened to all be related to at least one of the mothers, except for two who were eating out of Narcissa Black's hand anyway.

"The witness for the defense is..." the Judge Turpentyn sneered at one lone person on the other end of the room.

"Is me!" Connie cried out, for her it was indeed.

"She's a Muggle, your honor!" Ivana screeched. "Nothing she says counts!"

"But I'm a Muggle!" Mrs. Finch-Fletchley complained. "Does my voice not count, either?"

"Don't be stupid," Ivana said quickly, realizing her faux pas. "You have a child in Hogwarts. This imposter, however, does not."

"If I hadn't divorced my first husband, I'd have a great-grandchild in the school," Connie argued.

"That isn't sufficient," the judge said, his lip curling at the ancient old lady. "You cannot take part in this case."

"Well, I never!" Connie said indignantly. "The nerve of you cads!" She humphed a little and slouched back in her seat.

"The witness for the defense is--"Judge Turpentyn was just about to say nobody when the door burst open, and in flooded a crowd of people. They numbered three adults (Hogwarts teachers, no less!) and nearly fifty students, all out of breath but too worked up to be out of energy. "What are you all doing here?" the judge cried indignantly.

"We're the witnesses for the defense!" McGonagall said, managing to keep her heavy breathing under control. Snape and Flitwick, both having had extensive dueling experience, maintained their cool, but the students behind them wheezed and clutched their sides.

"All of you?" the judge said, his brow wrinkling in suspicion.

"All of us," she said firmly.

As this was established, the parents took advantage of the distraction to lean towards the jury box and catch the jurors' attention.

"Hey!" Mrs. Bones hissed at her husband. "If Albus Dumbledore is voted innocent, I'm going to tell everyone about what you did last summer!"

"Same goes to you!" Ivana barked at her sperm donor. "Only I'll tell about what you did to Oliver Wood at the Puddlemere United game."

"And I can easily put you, you, you, you, and you out of work," Narcissa said, pointing her finger at five of the jurors in turn, all of whom had been Death Eater sympathizers before Voldemort's downfall. "So you'd better vote guilty and make sure the others do as well."

"The witnesses for the defense, then," said Judge Turpentyn with much reluctance, "are The Students and Teachers of Hogwarts School, headed by Minerva McGonagall."

"Hi there, Minnie!" Albus called out. "I knew you'd come to save me."

"Order in the court!" the judge snapped, banging his gavel. It broke. He shoved it quickly inside his podium and pulled out a new one, coughing in embarrassment. "Now... ahem... we shall begin with the prosecution."

Ivana grinned vindictively and practically ran to the Witness Box, where a tiny old man swore her in. The second he turned around, she launched into her case. "As we all know," she said, "the 1803 court case The Parents vs. Dwyrtle Plumm stipulates it is forbidden for a member of the Hogwarts staff to be in the presence of a naked student. However, Dumbledore here, full knowing the accompanying penalty of law, chose to include nudity in the horrid play that was going to open this very night! Incidentally, this play also has gratuitous language, graphic sexual content, and a veritable smorgasbord of perversions. Dumbledore is trying to corrupt our youth!"

"Objection, Your Honor! The last part is irrelevant!" Professor McGonagall called out as she advanced towards the judge's podium. Meanwhile, the students slinked around behind her, unsure of what to do. Snape motioned silently for them to sit down on the cold, hard floor and stay still. "The amount of language and sexual content has nothing to do with this case, nor does the corruption of our youth."

"Objection noted," the judge said, tilting his head and looking superciliously down his nose at the Hogwarts representatives. "Does the defendant have anything to say in his defense?

"We didn't practice with the nudity," Euan Abercrombie burst out.

"Your Honor, this boy has not been sworn in!" Ivana said harshly. "His words mean nothing."

"Then swear him in," McGonagall said swiftly. "In fact, swear us all in!"

The little old man tottered back into the room and collectively swore in all fifty students and eighty parents, plus the three teachers. Once this was over with, Justin Finch-Fletchley hopped into the witness box and hoisted up Euan's torso for everyone to see. Euan was trembling; the dangly bits of gore jiggled at the end of his severed thighs, though the force from the Splinching had cauterized the wound so that no blood splattered the witness box.

"W-we didn't practice with nudity," Euan repeated. "When we got to the nude scene, Dumbledore let the actors practice in their underwear. So he didn't break the law."

"But he was planning to!" Ivana yelled back. "This very night he was planning on breaking the law. And don't say it doesn't count! If Dumbledore had been planning to murder them tonight, he'd still be charged!"

"That's thoroughly ridiculous," Professor McGonagall said tartly. "Nudity and murder are not the same thing."

"They both destroy society!" Ivana countered. "They're both sinful and evil, and they both have no part in a school play!"

"Objection, Your Honor!" Professor McGonagall cried, affronted by Ivana's shocking lack of logic. "Ms. Chatterley here is not concerning herself with the facts of the matter, only with rhetoric and oratory."

"Objection noted," the judge said frostily. "Will the prosecution please continue?"

"I most certainly will!" Ivana said. "I have proof that Professor Dumbledore was planning on breaking the law!" Grinning so widely her face looked ready to split, she clapped her hands. Loser, who was already hiding behind Ron to avoid looking at his mother, gave a little squeak as a dozen House-elves materialized in the middle of the courtroom.

"These House-elves will witness the unlawful designs Albus Dumbledore planned to afflict upon his innocent students."

"Objection!" Hermione cried, looking positively vengeful. "For the past thousand years, our society has not recognized the House-Elves as intelligent beings, and as such, your court has deemed them unfit as witnesses. Hence, they cannot testify for the prosecution!" She leered victoriously at the Wizarding parents, many of whom looked shocked at Hermione's statement. For their entire lives they had voted against House-elf rights, and now, as her smile so gloatingly reminded them, it was coming back to kick them in the arse.

"Objection noted," Judge Turpentyn said reluctantly, giving Ivana an apologetic shrug. "The House-elves are unfit to testify."

Ivana curled her fists into red balls, cursing herself for overlooking that, and for underestimating the depths of depravity to which these students would sink. How dare that bushy-haired twit--that know-it-all--how dare she try arguing with her elders! How dare she try having her way in the courtroom! In fact, how dare all these students show up here to defend a man as evil as Dumbledore! That man was teaching them to think for themselves and make lives that their parents didn't plan. He was removing the adults' control and giving it to these pitiful youngsters!

"However," the judge added in an effort to be helpful, "If one of the students would testify, that will do just as well."

And the solution came to her. "Wonderful idea, judge," Ivana said, her fury flashing once again to vindication. "In that case, I shall ask that my son take the stand and witness against Albus Dumbledore." And then, looking directly at Loser, she said, "Clifford, do what I tell you. Walk over to the witness box, enter it, and tell us all that Dumbledore was planning to break the law."

"Wh-wh-what?" Loser squeaked, so quietly that nobody heard him. His heartbeat increased, his stomach dropped, and his limbs became uncomfortably warm and shaky. He didn't want to testify against Albus Dumbledore! He liked the headmaster--he liked the play! If it hadn't been for his role as the battle hero, he'd never have gotten over his stuttering. He'd made friends with Ron and Luna, and he'd finally found a little self-confidence. He couldn't betray that by aiding in Dumbledore's conviction!

"Get into the witness box now," Ivana commanded her son. "Get on your lazy feet, march right over there, and condemn your filthy headmaster."

"But I... but I..."

"Do it!" she barked furiously.

Loser's chest sagged as his heart sunk. He wanted nothing more than to walk in the opposite direction of that accursed witness box, but how could he do that? How could he dream of disobeying his mum? He had changed these past two months, true, but some things would never be different. There were some people whom he could never change around, and his mum was one of them. He could never, ever stand up to his mum. And so he dragged himself slowly towards to witness box, tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

It was all a blur; he let it be a blur. He didn't want to see his classmates as their shoulders sagged in disappointment. He didn't want to see the professors' faces fall as he removed their beloved boss from his position. Most of all, he didn't want to see his mum's gloating smile that once again reminded him of how completely she owned him. So he turned his face to the stone floor and watched his feet as they advanced step by step towards the witness box. As intensely as he focused on the ground, however, he could not block his periphery vision. He sensed Hermione reaching out to grab a hold of his shoulder until Ron stopped her and whispered, "No, there's nothing we can do. Now it's all up to him."

His heart broke. It was all up to him--he was alone. Only he could stop this, and everyone was relying on him to do it. And yet they were setting themselves up for disappointed, because he couldn't do this--he couldn't stop it. Who could stop his own parent from destroying him? As if in slow motion, he heard his mother's voice, "Get in the witness box, Clifford. We don't have all day."

He was in the witness box. It was here he was going to betray everyone. He couldn't look into their faces, he just couldn't--it would hurt him too badly.

"Clifford Oliver Chatterley is in the witness box testifying for the prosecution," said the judge, his voice on the other side of the world.

"Tell them, Clifford." That was his mother. "Tell them that Dumbledore planned on breaking the law." She didn't care about him, did she? No, she only cared that she was right--she would do anything to prove that, even if it meant destroying her own son. And he was actually going to let her do it.

He had to look up. He had to see everyone's disappointment, everyone's disbelief as he, Loser, betrayed them. Yes, it would hurt... but he deserved it. Ever single damn bit of it.

And so Loser looked up. He first saw Albus Dumbledore. The headmaster was gazing down at his penis as he clenched his stomach muscles, in-and-out, so that his genitals wiggled against the cold seat. Then he looked up at Loser. There was no disappointment on his face, no worry, but an inexplicable excitement, as if he expected something very gratifying in the near future. He nodded at Loser and flashed him a grin.

Then there were the students sitting on the ground behind the teachers. The students weren't shaking their

heads or muttering to themselves. No, they were gazing eagerly at Loser, urging him silently onward. Ron in particular stared hard at Loser and gave him a little wave of greeting. Beside him Ginny and Hermione sent Loser a thumbs-up. The teachers, meanwhile, were not putting their heads in their hands; they were too busy glaring at Ivana.

And then Loser caught sight of Connie, sitting all alone on the other side of the courtroom. Her gaze burned against him, urging him silently not to say something, but to remember... To remember the night when Loser had stood up against her and succeeded. He had had no help from Dumbledore, or Ron, or Luna. That had been 100% Loser, or rather, 100% Clifford.

That was who he had to be, wasn't it? 100% Clifford. His mum had made him Loser. His first five-and-a-half years at Hogwarts had confirmed it. And now it must be undone. Dumbledore had started the process. Ron helped it along. But that Weasley boy was right: They could only do so much. Now it was Clifford's turn to do the rest.

"Clifford Oliver Chatterley, you will witness against Albus Dumbledore right now!"

"J-just shut the fuck up with this c-c-cunting shit!

Just shove it all against your crusty clit!"

Clifford gasped and put a hand to his mouth. He had just said that! He had just talked back to his mum, complete with exclamation points and four expletives!

His mum recoiled sharply, her face flashing from white to red to grey, as if she couldn't decide between horror, anger, or pure shock. "Clifford...!" she whispered, her eyes morbidly obese with condescension. "You disappoint me! You have betrayed me. I knew you would--you are weak, you would be nothing without me, and now--"

"Shut up, mum!" Clifford shouted at her, his voice loud yet not uncontrollable. "You have betrayed me! Look what you tried to make me be! A boy who can't think for himself? A boy who ignores what he knows to be right, just because someone tells him to? A boy that can't even speak without stuttering, because he's too afraid of the world?"

He was having a massive epiphany, right there in the court room, and it all came pouring out, too quickly for him to even think of stopping it. As if he wanted to! "You don't want to raise a good son--you only want to prove that you're in control. You deprived me of a father figure simply because you wanted everyone to know that you could make it on your own. You don't love me--and I don't say that because I'm angry at you. I say it because I have logically thought it through, and I've found that it's true! You have never loved me; you have never loved anyone. You're not even over the hill and already you're a bitter old woman, too blinded in your own narcissism to see that everyone else around you has ideas. All you can do is take and take and take, simply because you think you have a right to do whatever the hell you want."

Clifford stepped outside the witness box and brushed away the remnant of a tear. "I will not testify against Albus Dumbledore, Mum. Yell at me all you want. Now I realize: I should have never listened to you. Nothing you say will have effect on me... ever again. I love Albus Dumbledore--he's been far more of a parent to me these past two months than you've been in your entire life!"

And the young man walked right over to Albus Dumbledore and gave him a hug. The parents all gasped in shock. Ivana herself was too horrified to speak. She could only gape at Loser, and for once in her life she had nothing to yell at him.

"He's naked, though!" Mrs. Bones cried. "You're hugging a naked man!"

"Oh, am I?" Clifford said. "I didn't notice. It doesn't mean I'm going to have sex with him. Someone undo these chains so he can hug me back!"

"My dear boy," Albus Dumbledore said, blinking away tears. "No, my dear young man: If Olivier saw you today, he'd take his hat off to you. You have truly done me proud."

Connie stood up and started clapping. For a second she was alone, but then Ron joined her, followed closely by Hermione and Ginny. Soon all the students and teachers were applauding Clifford. He was so exhilarated that he wouldn't be surprised if he was literally glowing. Nothing in his life had ever felt this good before; nothing could match his first taste of freedom: pure, unadulterated, and deserved freedom. Freedom from that devil who called herself his mum, freedom from his ridiculous stutter, and freedom from that despicable name: Loser. He wasn't a Loser any longer.

As the claps died down, Clifford hollered joyfully, "So it seems I've thrown away my old family--if I could even call it that! What now?"

"Join mine!" Ron yelled happily. "You turn seventeen this summer, right?"

"This winter, actually," Clifford replied.

"Sextastic," Ron hooted. "Yes, my mum will love you."

"And we'll be your family, too!" Euan said, too eager to keep his voice below the level of a scream. "Every one of us!"

"ORDER! ORDER IN THE COURT!" Judge Turpentyn banged his gavel against the podium. "ORDER IN THE COURT!" He wasn't an effective judge; it took him another dozen repeats of this phrase until everyone finally calmed down. "The fact still remains that Albus Dumbledore was planning on breaking the law tonight."

"Objection!" Ron yelled. "You can't prove that."

"Objection overruled," the judge said testily. "If you know anything about his plans, then you must testify--all of you, or you will be breaking the law."

"We don't have to tell you jack shit!" Dean Thomas yelled, prompting every student in the courtroom to roar in consent.

"ORDER! ORDER! ORDER!" Judge Turpentyn broke his gavel again and had to pull out a third one. "OR-DER! OR-DER!" When order was restored once again (with the help of Snape, Flitwick, and McGonagall), he glared at the students and said, "Are any of you married to Albus Dumbledore? I thought not. Only spouses are excused from testifying against a defendant. Now get back into the witness box, Clifford Oliver Chatterley."

"No," Clifford said mutinously, planting his feet firmly on the ground.

"Now," Turpentyn growled.

"Arrest me," Clifford shot back. "Arrest all of us. We aren't talking."

This started another uproar, in which the parents yelled at the students, the students at the parents, and everyone at the judge. Albus Dumbledore sat in the middle of it all and grinned at Snape, who rolled his eyes. McGonagall, meanwhile, retreated towards the door, taking hold of Hermione and Ron along the way.

"What is it, professor?" Hermione asked over the tumult.

"You two are the brightest students in here," McGonagall said. "Now tell me: How are we going to get out of this mess?"

"We can't do it alone," Hermione said, thinking intensely. "We need someone else, someone with a lot of clout."

"Who else do we have?" McGonagall said, clenching her fingers in a miniature panic. "The whole cast and crew is already here."

"No, they aren't," Ron said. "Harry Potter's not."

"Harry Potter, that's it!" Hermione said excitedly. "Yes, Ron, of course! He's just the person to take care of this."

"But didn't he and Dumbledore argue yesterday afternoon?" Professor McGonagall asked worriedly. "Are you sure

he'll do the right thing?"

"Let me worry about that," Ron said. "I'll head back to the school. You get everyone calm and start stalling."

"I'll help," Luna said, having wandered over to see what was going on. "Stall, that is."

"Cool," Ron said. "Then I'm off."

~~~~~

Harry trudged up the Astronomy Tower stairway, his shoes clicking quietly on the stone steps. Yesterday's raging anger had given way to a stomach-dropping restlessness. He had been so mad at Dumbledore that he couldn't get to sleep until 3:00. But now that he was awake again, he felt all panicky and agitated. What exactly was he going to do, now that he'd thrown his temper tantrum? Dumbledore's magically binding spell would force him to act in the play, and everyone would tread around him, fearful that he'd blow up again. They used to do it all the time back in his fifth year, even the ones who had believed him when he was ridiculed for telling the truth. He hated it when history repeated itself.

Get a grip, Harry, he told himself sternly. I shouldn't care what they think! What matters is that Dumbledore has trampled on my rights for the umpteen-millionth time, and I'm mad about it. I have a damn good reason to be mad; I have a damn good reason to curse him into the next century! And people should just keep their ideas to themselves and let me get on with it.

This was a lot easier said than done. Whatever he told himself, it still bothered Harry that everyone had witnessed yesterday's blow-up. He knew he had startled them enough that they were falling back on formerly conceived notions, and it only made him more upset. They weren't doing it to spite him--in fact, they couldn't help it--but it still made him clench his fists and grind his teeth just thinking about it.

As Harry neared the top of the stairs, he suddenly heard something... or someone, rather. It was a student, a boy, and he was crying. Harry heard a sniffle and a rustle of a cloak as the person shifted positions--from the sound of it, he was hiding behind the statue of Gregoras the Dying just a few feet away.

Someone else is skipping class, too? Harry thought, intrigued. Interesting--I wonder what's going on? Should I--no, I shouldn't. I don't want to deal with someone who's crying all over--

"Harry, is that you?" the person sniffled.

Ah, fuck. Harry waited a moment and wondered whether he should beat a retreat, but then he realized the person already knew he was here. "Uh... yeah? Is that you, Neville?"

"Yes," Neville said. He stood up and stepped out from behind the statue, wiping a spot of wetness from his cheek.

"Er..." Harry said, not knowing what to say to his apparently grief-stricken dorm mate. "Skipping class, too?"

"I wouldn't've been able to concentrate," Neville sighed. "I just found out... no, never mind."

Harry's insatiable curiosity was instantly piqued. "What? What were you going to say?"

"Nothing," Neville said lamely. "It's stupid. Just some... gossip or something from Lavender that upset me."

"Oh," Harry said, wondering if he should add I'm sorry. He waited too long, though, and realized he couldn't say it without sounding stupid. So he pressed for more information. "What'd she tell you?"

"Oh, it was about... uh..." A blush ripened on Neville's cheeks as he tried to avoid saying something. "It was just about someone who... someone did something, see... and it upset me. But Lavender didn't know that it--uh... It's sort of private..." His voice trailed off to a whisper.

"Oh!" Harry said, instantly contrite. "Oh, okay. Sorry for, like, you know, prodding."

"It's okay," Neville sighed. "How 'bout you? Are you still mad at Dumbledore?"

"Yeah," Harry mumbled, wishing that he could express just how upset he was without scaring his dorm mate. "Yeah, I am."

"Are you still going to... you know, act? In the play?" Neville said, his voice containing a note of barely suppressed hope.

"There's that damn fucking spell the old coot put on the parchment," Harry sighed, kicking bitterly at the stone floor. "What kind of miracle is getting me out of that?"

No sooner than he had spoken Ron Weasley bounded into view, yelling, "HARRY! HARRY! Oh good, there you are."

"What's the matter?" Harry said a little stiffly, hoping to heaven that Ron wasn't about to beg him to patch things up with Dumbledore before tonight's performance.

"Haven't you heard? Dumbledore's been arrested!" Ron cried dramatically, as if it was one of century's greatest tragedies.

For a few moments Harry and Neville goggled disbelievingly at Ron. Neville let out a tiny gasp and tripped against the pedestal of Gregoras the Dying. Harry, however, took a deep breath, threw his arms into the air, and shouted, "YES! OH DEAR LORD, THANK YOU! Really, Ron? That's the best news I've heard all week! You mean Dumbledore's actually arrested? As in the-play-is-canceled arrested?"

"No, it's not canceled yet!" Ron said quickly. "Dumbledore's trial is going on right now. Hermione and Luna are stalling for time, and I came back here to take you to the Ministry so that you can get Dumbledore off the hook."

Harry's lip pursed itself against his jawbone. He rubbed his ears vigorously then said with a pained twist in his eyebrow, "Repeat that, please? I'm not sure I heard you correctly."

"You need to get Dumbledore off the hook so that we can put on the play!"

"No!" Harry said even before Ron was done talking. "No. No way! What the hell makes you think I want Dumbledore off the hook? Him getting arrested means me never having to show my dick to a thousand people. If he's pronounced guilty, it'll be the best thing that's ever happened to me!"

~~~~~

"ORDER! ORDER IN THE COURT!" When everyone finally became quiet, Judge Turpentyn turned to glare at the students, his frumpy face red with frustration. "One of you must testify," he huffed. "I will call in the Aurors, and you'll be charged for contempt of court. It won't look good on your permanent records."

The students all stared mutinously at the judge, their silence announcing their refusal to cooperate. He muttered angrily and only halfway managed to stop himself from slamming his fist against his podium. What was it about the teenage years that made school kids so ridiculously stubborn? They weren't of age: They knew far less than any of the adults in this room, and it was arrogant for them to think otherwise! The parents glared along with him. Ivana looked particularly murderous, now that she'd been humiliated in front of the entire court. She whispered something to the parents closest to her, and they nodded grimly.

But wait, one of the students was raising her hand! She was going to talk! "Your Honor," said Hermione. "We have a witness here to prove that Dumbledore didn't break the law."

"Oh?" the judge said coldly, chastising himself for trusting a false hope. "And which one of you can do that?"

"It's not a student," said Luna. "He's a friend of mine."

"Is it Flitwick or Snape, then?" the judge asked, frowning at her. He didn't see any other males here that weren't students.

"Oh no," Luna said. "Professor Flitwick is friendly, but he's merely a teacher. And I don't really like Professor Snape. No offense," she added easily, staring at the Potions professor with her wide eyes. None was taken, apparently; the curl in his lip suggested he was more proud than upset over Luna's libel.

"Then who is it?"

"The Heebripples don't give each other names," Luna said mildly. "Their auras individualize them enough as it is."

"What?" Judge Turpentyn said, scratching his bald spot. "Young girl, you are making no sense!"

"But I am," Luna said earnestly. "He's in the witness box right now, waiting for us to be quiet."

"She's making this up!" Ivana cried out, her voice ragged with fury. "Throw her out of court!"

"Objection!" McGonagall retorted. "The prosecution doesn't have the right to ask the judge to throw someone out of court!"

"Objection noted," the judge said irritably. "But this girl has no right to make a mockery of our courtroom with her silly jokes."

"It's no joke, Your Honor," Luna promised him. "He's been here the whole time, and he was sworn in with the rest of us."

"But she's talking about some make-believe animal!" Mrs. Abbot yelled. "Anyway, animals aren't allowed as witnesses."

"Actually," Hermione countered, "back in 1556, in the case of Bela vs. The Town of Hogsmeade, the court swore in a vampire before they realized that non-human creatures couldn't testify, but since he was already sworn in, he was allowed to testify. This precedence has not yet been struck down."

"But you said the House-elves couldn't testify!" Mrs. Abbot argued petulantly. "How now can this... Heeppyal thing do this? What am I even talking about? It isn't even real!"

"Yes, he is," Hermione said. "I can see him. As for your question: I stopped the House-elves from testifying before they were sworn in. However, the Heebripple was sworn in collectively with the rest of us, so now he must be allowed to testify."

"But Mrs. Abbot is right: we can't see him!" Judge Turpentyn said.

"I can see him," Luna said. "And so can Hermione."

"I can see him, too," Justin Finch-Fletchely said, catching on quickly.

"Me, too!" said Lavender.

"And me," Orla Quirke said.

"And me!" "And me!" "Me, too!" And so on and so forth.

"I can see him, too," McGonagall said defiantly.

"As can I," Snape said, his years of Occlumency creating the most convincing expression in the courtroom.

"With all due respect, Your Honor, there might be something wrong with your vision," Flitwick squeaked, "because the rest of us can see him clear as day. Would you like me to perform an Ocular Corrective Charm?"

"No thank you, Professor!" the judge replied sternly. "I don't believe you can see him! None of the parents can."

"Actually, I can," Xenophilius Lovegood argued from his position amongst the parents. "And as a Hogwarts governor, I suggest that we let the Heebripple testify, whether or not you can see him. Let the jury decide if they are or are not moved by the defense."

Judge Turpentyn clenched his fists and said, "Look, this is really--"

"SSSSHH!" Luna hissed at him. "He's trying to speak!"

For a full two minutes the room was silent. The students sat quietly on the floor for the most part and resisted fidgeting. The teachers stood in front of them with serious expressions, all of them politely observing the empty witness box. The parents exchanged noiseless shoulder shrugs and glares. The judge massaged his temple, and the jury twiddled their thumbs.

Then Luna said, "The Heebripple raises an excellent point. Based on that evidence, we really have no grounds on which to convict Dumbledore."

"This is ridiculous!" the judge burst out. "There's nobody in the witness box! Heebripples don't even exist!"

Luna shook her head sadly and gazed up at the judge. "I feel sorry for the man who can't see the Heebripple," she said simply. Then she turned back to the witness box and said, "Could you please reiterate that last point for the jury again? We want them to understand every aspect of your argument."

"Oh!" Judge Turpentyn cried indignantly, his palms flat against the podium. "I get it now ... I get it! I am the Emperor, and the Heebripple is the New Clothes."

"Oh no, Your Honor," Luna said, wide-eyed. "I would never want to see you naked."

~~~~~

"Listen, Harry, you've got to help us!" Ron begged his best friend. "Apparently I have failed to make this clear already, but Dumbledore's about to be convicted and sentenced. And it's all because the parents pitched a hissy fit over the play."

"Oh, good," Harry said, "because I pitched a 'hissy fit,' too, and nobody listened to me. Glad to see somebody's succeeded."

"No, Harry, you don't understand," Ron argued. "This isn't about appearing nude onstage. It's about censorship. The parents are trying to ban the play by getting rid of the director!"

"Let them ban the play, then," Harry said harshly, forcing himself not to yell. "I'd love them to ban it."

"But Harry," Neville inserted himself into the conversation, "if we let them ban one thing, they'll start banning other things. Today it's the play; tomorrow it'll be one of the clubs. The next day they'll force Flitwick or McGonagall to change their curriculums because they don't like a certain part. Then, before you know it, our parents will be controlling every single aspect of our lives!"

"That sounds terrible," Harry said ironically. "Too bad I'll never know what it's like to have controlling parents, seeing as mine have been dead for sixteen y--"

"Harry!" Ron interrupted, shutting his eyes in an attempt to remain calm. "You're doing it again!"

"Doing what?"

"Pulling the orphan card! Now stop thinking about yourself for once and start--"

"Oh, that's rich!" Harry yelled, his temper getting the better of him. "You telling me to stop thinking about myself! Excuse me, but the first sixteen years of my life were not my own! I lived with my abusive relatives my whole childhood, then came to Hogwarts and found out I had a murderous dark lord to deal with. I think I deserve a little bit of selfish time now!"

"Okay, first the orphan card, now the Voldemort card," Ron sighed. "Just... stop. Just shut up and think!"

"Hey, I--"

"Shut up," Ron interrupted, holding a finger in the air.

"Look, you can't--"

"Don't want to hear it!" Ron said firmly. Harry opened his mouth again, but his best friend beat him to the punch. "I'm not listening! Not until you put at least fifteen seconds of thought into each sentence."

Harry was so mad he couldn't think, so he glared at Ron for a full minute straight. Why was it always him who had to step in and save the day, especially when the end result involved something he really didn't enjoy? If it weren't for his nobility streak, the whole school would've been rid of Crabbe's stupidity during the final battle. And now he was facing another conflict of morals, in which the right choice would end in him appearing naked in front of a thousand people.

Yes, freeing Dumbledore would be the right thing: Harry could not deny that. Dumbledore had hurt him, yes; Dumbledore's opinion of himself was sometimes too inflated, yes; but overall Dumbledore was a good man who wanted the students to work hard and think for themselves. The parents were like a collective Umbridge: They wanted to have the kids under their little fingers, right where they could keep an eye on them. It wasn't that they were doing it on purpose (Well, not all of them, Harry thought, reminding himself of Clifford's despicable mother)--it was that they hadn't yet accepted that their children were growing up and developing their own faculties of critical thought. Those parents had been led astray--by Mrs. Loser and their own illusions of parenthood. And those were some illusions that desperately needed shattering.

"Look," Harry groaned. "Why me? Why does it always have to be me who does this?"

"I don't know," Ron said. "I seriously don't. But you know what Hagrid said back in our Fourth Year: What happens will happen, and we have to meet it when it does."

"He did say that, didn't he?" Harry said, chuckling a little. "I totally forgot about that--until you reminded me, that is."

"Yup," Ron said, smiling. "So what's it going to be?"

"I don't want to do a nude scene," Harry said, deadly serious. "I really, really don't."

Ron and Neville looked at each other; the redhead motioned him to be quiet, knowing that anything they said to minimize Harry's agony would only set him off again.

"But neither do I want to parents to turn into a little army of pro-censorship Umbridges," Harry said.

Neville leaned forward and put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "It's all twisted," he whispered, his eyes shining earnestly. "Dumbledore is twisted. The parents are twisted. Heck, we all are twisted. This is no easy choice, I realize."

"Is that supposed to make me feel any better?" Harry asked. "That the world is twisted is obvious, but what am I supposed to do about it? Speak to me, Ron: You're the sensitive, non-macho man now."

"Pretend," Ron said intently, "that you are going to the polls."

"The polls?"

"To vote, you know. You're going to the polls, and you have to vote between... oh, I don't know... you have to vote between a Giant Douche and a Turd Sandwich. If you choose one, you have to eat shit; if you choose the other, you get doused in vagina water. Both options fellate gonads--but you have to choose."

"Cock-fucking-damn it!" Harry snarled. "Can't I just sit this one out?"

"No, Harry," Ron said. "I'm sorry, but you can't. This all rests on you now."

"Oh, Ron," Harry said slowly and tragically, "I'm going over every swearword I know. But somehow the phrase 'bloody Goddamned motherfucking cock-shit dick-rape pussy-buggering frotting pricking cooze-arse' seems a woefully inadequate representation of my feelings."

"I'm sorry," Ron whispered softly, drawing his friend into a hug. "I'm sorry. I really am."

"I don't want to do a nude scene!" Harry wailed. "It'll be too embarrassing."

"Ssh, Harry," Ron said. "You have a good-looking penis. People won't be laughing at you. Drooling maybe--haha, just kidding, sort of."

"Ron's right," Neville said gently. "You do have a good penis."

"But what if I get an erection onstage?" Harry said, his vocal range soaring in panic. "Everyone is going to notice, and the next day there'll be pictures of it on the black market!"

"Actually, they'll probably appear legally in Playwitch," Neville said.

"Augh!"

"But it's okay," the boy continued quickly. "They'd be putting you in a spread anyway, even if you were as flaccid as a bowl of jelly. Like Ron said, people won't be laughing at you, even if you have a hard-on the size of the Big Ben."

"But my erection turns to the left!" Harry wailed. "They'll give me a stupid nickname, like Bendy-Cock or the Leaning Tower of Pisa!"

"So?" Neville said mildly. "They'd call me the Deadly Fish Hook. But Parvati once said that she prefers hard-ons with curves and bends in them, because they give her more pleasure or something like that."

"Wow," Harry whimpered. "I didn't need to know that--and it doesn't make me feel any better! Let's just head over to the Ministry and get this over with."

"Oh! So you're going?" Ron said happily.

"Yes," Harry sighed. "I have to do what I have to do. I'll hate every minute of it. I'll wish I hadn't done it. But such is my lot in life."

"Coolness," Ron said.

~~~~~

"Throw her out, Your Honor!" Ivana raged at the judge. "This girl should be charged with contempt of court, the way she's carrying on about that make-believe animal of hers!"

"It's not make-believe, Ivana," Xenophilius replied in a sing-song voice.

"SHUT UP, MR. LOVEGOOD!" she bawled back. "Your Honor, these kids should all be sent to jail for the way they're acting!"

"It's you who should be sent to jail, you old sow!" Dean Thomas yelled back. "You parents should be ashamed to have your title associated with such a bitch!"

"See what Dumbledore's done to these kids!" Ivana railed at the other parents. "SEE WHAT HE'S DONE?! They swear now, they disrespect their parents! None of them acted like this before they went to Hogwarts--to let this slide wouldn't be so much ridiculous as downright sinful! This must end today. Your Honor, arrest them all!"

"ORDER! ORDER!" Judge Turpentyn yelled.

"I DON'T CARE ABOUT ORDER!" Ivana raged. "I CARE ABOUT PUTTING THESE DISGRACEFUL WRETCHES IN THEIR PLACE!"

"Objection, Your Honor!" McGonagall cried.

"I have an objection to you, you horrid teacher!" Ivana yelled. "I hated every single Transfiguration class I ever took, and I wished every single day that you'd just DIE, right there in the front of the classroom! Foul woman!"

"Objection, Your Honor," Snape said lazily.

"Objection, Your Honor!" Flitwick joined in with a squeak even higher than his normal tone of voice.

"ORDER!" "Objection, Your Honor!" "Objection!" "ORDER!" "OBJECTION!" Etceteras and etceteras. It was noisy and unproductive--a bad combination at the worst of times.

Then the door flew open, and three people marched into the room: Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Neville Longbottom. Harry goggled at the gabbling crowd and shook his head impatiently. Squinching his eyes and glaring at the floor, he lifted his wand into the air and sent a dozen purple firecrackers out the tip. In quick succession they flashed inside the courtroom, branding shadows on the walls in a strobe-like sequence. Everyone fell quiet and turned to see what newcomer had caused this commotion.

"It's Harry Potter!" Mrs. Bones whispered, bouncing on her feet as if on a spring. "I love him!"

"Me, too," Mrs. Abbot replied. She fanned herself as her chest inflated with excitement.

"Hi, Harry Potter!" Mrs. Creevey squealed, a little overexcited. "My son Colin's told me all about you!"

"Order in the court," Harry said, waving his hand so lazily that it was more of a flop. His simple sentence did more than the judge could have done with hours of yelling. Immediately everyone fell silent and stared at him, waiting for words--any words!--to fall from his healthy lips.

"Hey there, Dumbledore," Harry said raising his eyebrows at the sight of his chained headmaster. "You're naked."

"I am, my dear boy," Dumbledore replied. "I figured I'd show a little solidarity for a certain person I know who's also dreading a similar experience."

Harry eyed the manacles that encircled his headmaster's body and nodded weakly. " 'Dreading' is right... but don't go pulling that one on me. I'll bet you're enjoying this!"

"Rather," Dumbledore said. "It feels a little... how shall I put it?... BDSM, I suppose."

"Okay, you're definitely enjoying this," Harry said, rolling his eyes. But he was secretly impressed with his headmaster: Apparently Dumbledore wasn't just trying to exploit Harry for a greater box office revenue. Albus Dumbledore saw no reason to be ashamed of his nakedness, and he simply wasn't able to understand why others were, especially someone built as healthily as Harry. Dumbledore should have realized that not everyone was as comfortable with their bodies as he was, especially not Harry Potter. And the headmaster definitely shouldn't have gone to the Dursleys over this; that was just downright cruel. And yet the headmaster was just like any other director that had to force his actors into doing things they didn't want to do in order to translate his singular vision to the stage. The crowning gem, however, was Dumbledore' courtroom nakedness. Dumbledore was many things, but at least he wasn't hypocritical--he made as little a deal about his own nudity as he thought Harry should about Act IV, Scene iii.

But now wasn't the time to dwell on Dumbledore's state of undress. No, he needed to speak to the parents. So, turning towards the prosecution, he said, "Parents, what you're doing is wrong. You're trying to control your children when what you really need to do is let them use their own brains. I know you think you're acting for the good of the kids, but you're not. So just stop it and let this whole thing slide."

There was complete silence. The parents stared uneasily at Harry, not knowing what to think. Under their heavy gazes, Harry felt like God: he had a crowd of illogical people both worshipping him and questioning him at the same time. The parents exchanged glances, then looked back at Harry, who stared piercingly in return.

"DON'T LISTEN TO HIM!" Ivana shrieked into the silence. "He's one of them, he's trying to lead you astray!"

"But he's Harry Potter," Mrs. Finch-Fletchley said uneasily. "He's famous."

"And he saved the entire Wizarding World," Mrs. Bones added.

"That only makes him more unstable!" Ivana yelled. "The media worships him, so he has a skewed idea of his own importance. And he's famous for killing a man! Is that the example you want our kids to follow?"

"Objection!" Ron and Hermione cried at the same time. The judge didn't even bother to reply.

"Objection overruled," Harry said calmly, wanting to eliminate another courtroom brawl before it had the chance to take root. "I'm just asking you guys to use your common sense. Do you really want your kids to become miniature versions of you? Don't you want them to have their own lives, to make their own discoveries?"

"He's lying!" Ivana yelled. "He's a stupid seventeen-year-old! He doesn't know anything! Did you hear that, Potter? YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!"

Harry just raised his eyebrows and resisted teaching the lady just how many variations of the word "cunt" he knew.

"Well, it's true that you did kill people," Mrs. Bones said reluctantly.

"Yeah," Mrs. Abbot said, looking uneasily at Ivana. "We appreciate what you did for us and all. We love you to death, we really do! But you are just a kid, and you might not be entirely stable. Not that that's a bad thing, though!" she added quickly, trying to make her judgment sound less tactless than it was. "It's really, really great what you did. Just... forgive us if we don't take your advice on parenting."

"You' re absolutely right," Ivana said briskly, finally beginning to calm down now that the parents were back on her side. "Potter should know nothing about parents... nothing at all! You see, he doesn't even have parents. All he's had is abusive relatives. You'll forgive us, then, Potter, if we don't listen to a single word you say!"

Harry drew in a breath that went on forever. Then he let it out with a whoosh. "Fuck it," he said, running his hands through his hair. "Dumbledore, remove the spell."

"What, my dear boy?" the headmaster said, looking up from his testicles.

"Remove the spell," Harry repeated, poker-faced. "The one you put on the parchment."

"Why?" Dumbledore asked. He sounded mildly curious, but Harry knew the man was really being defensive.

"Because I need you to," Harry said firmly.

"I don't have my wand on me, though," Dumbledore said lamely.

Harry rolled his eyes and placed his hands on his hips. "Don't give me that bullshit, Headmaster. You owe me."

Dumbledore sighed and smiled a smile that was much too tiny to be fully at ease. "Okay, then, my boy. It's done."

Harry waited. Nothing happened.

"Well?" he said impatiently. "Are you going to remove it or not?"

"I already have," Dumbledore said. "Try saying something about the play... something that you weren't allowed to say before."

"I'm way ahead of you," Harry said. He turned back to the parents and held his arms open. "So... you want this play canceled because it is corrupting our youth, and you're mad at Dumbledore for teaching us to think for ourselves."

"Darn right we are!" Mrs. Abbot said.

"Fair enough," Harry said, causing the other students to shoot each other worried glances. It was no secret that Harry didn't want to do his nude scene--after all, he had carried on a shouting match in the Great Hall with Albus Dumbledore himself less than twenty-four hours ago. Would that be enough for him to change his mind and leave the headmaster in the merciless hands of their parents?

"Fair enough, I say," he continued, composing himself with all the willpower he could muster. "But... If you cancel the play, you won't get to see me naked."

The silence was everlasting. Dumbledore seemed to lose all voluntary muscle control: His jaw flapped open, his bare chest deflated, and his testicles relaxed. The parents gaped at Harry, their gazes running all up and down his youthful body as their minds did somersaults to make sense of this new knowledge. Ivana's eyes bugged out of her head in sheer disgust. Air leaked silently from the students' open mouths as they realized that their fears were unfounded. Even Ron and Hermione raised their eyebrows at one another. Connie's face was scrawled with pleasant surprise, but she had enough presence of mind to extend her arms towards Harry in wordless gratitude.

Mrs. Abbot was the first one to speak. She shot to her feet, dodged around the podium, and stalked over to the witness box. Once inside, she took a militant stance and cried, "This is ridiculous!" She took a heavy breath before continuing, her arms akimbo. "How come nobody ever told us before that Harry Potter was the one that was going naked?"

"Yeah!" Mrs. Bones said, her indignation just as evident. "I would have never tried to stop the play if I had known."

"How could you do this to us, Ivana?" Mrs. Patil cried. "We followed you so faithfully, and so blindly! Now you nearly lost us our only chance to see Harry Potter naked."

"I've worshipped him for sixteen years now," said Mrs. MacMillan. "The idea that I almost lost the chance to see my idol naked, just as soon as he's become legal, is almost too much for me to bear!"

Ivana gaped, horrified, as every single parent responded in a similar fashion. "Listen, you can't do this!" she cried frantically. "Y-you can't!"

"Really, Ivana," Narcissa said severely, "I thought you did your research. Didn't you know that Harry Potter was in the nude scene? I must confess I'm very disappointed in you."

"B-but it's nudity!" she wailed. "I-i-it's evil!"

"But it's Harry Potter," Mrs. Bones said severely. "And Harry Potter trumps evil. He defeated You-Know-Who, for Heaven's sake! You can't get any more evil-trumping than that."

The students gaped in unanimous disbelief as their mothers changed their minds faster than a Ministry politician changes loyalties. More than one child put his head in his hands or squinched his eyes shut in embarrassment. Susan leaned over to Justin and muttered, "I'm tempted to say that I have no relation to the woman up there who called herself Mrs. Bones, but then I see that your mother is acting exactly the same."

"Tell me about it," Justin whispered his disbelief.

"I'm glad my mum isn't one of them," Hermione said, relieved.

"Nor mine," Ron added.

Meanwhile, Narcissa Black, Mrs. Abbot, and Mrs. Bones held a quick conference amidst all the commotion, and half-a-minute later they all marched up to the judge's podium. Narcissa said, just loudly enough to rise above the clamor, "By a majority vote, the prosecution would like to drop this case."

"And we also want the Ministry to repeal the precedence set by The Parents vs. Dwyrtle Plumm," Mrs. Abbot added.

"And," Mrs. Bones turned to Professor Dumbledore and contributed her own two cents, "We want to buy tickets."

"They'll be sold at the door, 50 galleons a seat," Dumbledore replied. "Invite your family and friends!"

"We will," Mrs. Finch-Fletchley promised. "Oh, we will!"

Then the mothers started heading out of the courtroom, gushing like fangirls (which, in fact, they were). A few of them hailed their kids on the way out, but the children were too embarrassed to respond. Judge Turpentyn shrugged helplessly and banged his gavel, muttering, "Case dismissed." The gavel broke yet again.

The chains on Dumbledore's chair undid themselves and snaked into the floor, allowing him to stand up. He did this with a lot of stretching and flexing. The students cheered, too happy to care that seeing an old person naked was gross.

"We won!" Euan shouted.

"We really did!" Justin rejoiced, swinging the Third-Year around by the arms.

"And now we're going to perform the best play ever!" Clifford shouted, throwing his arms around Ron and Ginny's shoulders. The whole cast and crew cheered, automatically confirming the pronouncement.

Dumbledore, meanwhile, pranced over in Harry's direction. "I must compliment you, my dear boy!" he said joyously. "You have saved the play, and you've set the school free from the tyranny of the PTA."

Harry rubbed his eyebrows and let out a nervous laugh. "Oh Dumbledore, I'm... I just... the way I did it, though!"

"What?" Dumbledore asked. "You did a fine job. You learned a lot about how to sway an adult over to your side of things."

"Yes, I did," Harry said. "Mainly this: Never use logic."

"Yes indeed, my dear boy," Dumbledore. "Logic is for someone like you or me or Hermione Granger. For other people... not so much."

"Yeah," Harry said with a sigh. "What craziness. Now put on some clothes, Headmaster, you're really squicking me out here."

Dumbledore sighed and waved his hand. "If you insist." With a slight poof, a set of flamboyant purple dress robes appeared on his body. He grinned and wriggled his feet happily inside a pair of bedroom slippers. "There, that's better," he said.

"Definitely," Harry said. "You look a lot more presentable when you're, well, covered up."

"It's a shame that such is the case," Dumbledore lamented. "But... do you want to know a little secret?"

Harry was tempted to say no, but his curiosity got the better of him. "Sure."

The headmaster leaned close to his ear and whispered, "I didn't conjure any undergarments."

~~~~

McGonagall was over the moon with glee. Now that the play was back on, she'd get to see Harry Potter naked after all. For a while there she was afraid that the chance would slip away and never return.

But no, Harry himself had set things right. And now the last of the students were leaving the courtroom so they could all go back to the school and rehearse. Classes should be canceled for the remainder of the day, I think, she decided generously. And I'd better scrounge around for 50 galleons. No, 100 galleons. I want to see Harry naked two nights in a row.

But before she took the tail of the line back to school, there was one thing left to do. She turned around to face the only person left in the courtroom: Ms. Ivana Bolton Chatterley.

The woman was in shock. For the first time in her life someone had stood up to her, and that person had been her very son. He was the one person she was sure she could control, and it turned out she couldn't. What's more, she had lost the ability to get people to listen to her. The parents had turned their backs on her in a heartbeat, proving once and for all that she inspired no trust or loyalty. She was, in a nutshell, a worthless woman.

And that's exactly what you deserve to be, McGonagall thought fiercely. That Clifford managed to overcome your tyranny is proof there's a God, and since He exists, you most definitely are against Him. Which means you're not getting within a thousand miles of the pearly gates. And to add insult to injury, I'll ask Madam Pomfrey never to give you another tampon again.

But she didn't say any of this to Ivana. The bitch wasn't worth that much time. Professor McGonagall had only one sentence to spare, and she didn't stay around for any longer than she took to say it.

While she said it, however, she relished it. McGonagall leaned slowly over the judge's podium and leered at Ivana. Then she whispered, "Burn in hell... cunt."

A/N: Whenever people have reviewed this story in the past, they have always called Clifford by his given name, but in my replies I steadfastly referred to him as Clifford. As I explained more than once, he had not yet earned his name. But now he has, and from now on I will call him Clifford in both my author's notes and my review replies, and in the story itself.

Giant Douche and Turd Sandwich belong to South Park, created by Trey Parker and Matt Stone.

I'm not going to go into the crossover quite yet, because there's still more of it that needs revealing, but that'll come in Chapter 25. Chapter 24 is being beta'd right now; it's really short, but it'll be up just as shortly. Stick around, see what final tricks I have up my sleeve!

Oh, and review. And sing praises to Lisa725, my beta.