The Clash of the Clouds: Part 3

"Ohhhhh, aidy didy didy didy didy didy di. OH AIDY DIDY DIDY DIDY DIDY DIDY DIIIII!!!!"

Ron ended the last line of the Irish drinking song on a rather intoxicated note, slamming his mug on the table and dancing shoulder to shoulder with and equally disillusioned Neville Longbottom. Both boys were as drunk as skunks having ingested far too many firewhiskeys, as were several of their companions around them. However, some of them had not been able to hold theirs as well; the collapsed form of Zacharias Smith in the far corner was a prime example. The aftermath of Harry Potter's defeat of Anakin Skywalker (or so they thought) had quickly gotten out of hand as drunken students and teachers had passed out one after another in the chaos-stricken Gryffindor Common Room. Ron Weasley was one such participant, and the last one of them to fall into a drunken slumber after finishing off his fourteenth mug of firewhisky. It was perhaps for the best that he was in this alcohol-influenced state, so that he did not hear the banging around in the boys' dormitory that were Harry and Ginny's "activities". It wasn't until some time after the noises of these "activities" had subsided that anything disturbed the quiet slumber of the room's occupants.

The crumpled, beaten form of Anakin Skywalker stirred from the spot he had fallen to a few hours ago. Though the damage to his already battered body was substantial, his injuries were not going to keep him down long. He gazed about the room with one blue and black eye, taking in the site of dozens of unconscious forms strewn about the floor and furniture. Slowly the events that had transpired earlier came back to him, and he cursed himself for having failed at such a simple task as beating up a teenager. He pulled a flashlight from within his utility belt and shined it around the room, passing the glow over several sickly yellow faces until in finally landed on his lightsaber, lying neatly on the mantle over the fire, right next to...

"The wand!" he said hoarsely to himself. Anakin was no fool. He had realized long before the boxing match had begun that these Sith lord's new magic was the product of magic wands.

Anakin clambered over to the other side of the room until the fire illuminated his bloody face. After tucking his lightsaber safely back into his belt, he gingerly picked up the wand and twirled it in his finger.

"I wonder how it works," he said quietly to himself.

He gave it a casual flick and was startled to see a nearby table turn into a toadstool. All sorts of ideas running like mad through his head, he knew he must return to the Jedi Council with this magnificent discovery. Relying on the Force for his guidance, he exited the room, with the greatest of care, through the former portrait hole.

***

"What a tragic tale, dear Gandalf. How could Saruman betray you like that?" Dumbledore inquired of his old college friend.

"Mmm, powerful the dark side is," Yoda replied.

"Very astute, my friend," Gandalf said. "Yes, Saruman was corrupted."

"Tragic," Dumbledore shook his head. He took a sip of tea, his silvery moustache grazing the top of the amber liquid. "But at least you still have your health."

"Yes," Gandalf sighed. "Wait a moment, what is this inscription on the bottom of my teacup? 'Made in China'. I say Dumbledore, where is that?"

"A long way off, my friend," replied the Headmaster. "But don't worry about that right now. I have some exciting news. Michael Jackson was acquitted!"

"Ahhh," Yoda smiled. "My favorite pop star, he was. All his albums, I have."

"As do I," said Gandalf. "Tell me, Yoda, who is this Count Dooku you mentioned earlier? He sounds like a vampire with a bad case of dysentery."

Yoda closed his eyes and sighed.

"A Sith lord, Count Dooku is," said the Jedi Master. "Twisted and evil he has become, my old padawan."

Dumbledore chuckled.

"Padawan, that word slays me."

Before Yoda could reply to Dumbledore's mockery of the term, the three old friends heard voices outside in door.

"Easy now, Agatha," one said. "I'm in a right state as it is. Wait! Slow down!"

Something slammed hard into Dumbledore's office door.

"OUCH! Great weeping wombats, you crazy woman! Just open the door!"

The door flew open at this command, and Gandalf's, Yoda's, and Dumbledore's eyes met a most unusual sight.

Professor Sinistra trotted in, her wand held aloft, levitating the maimed and trampled torso of Professor Augustine Squigley in front of her. The limbless wizard was disheveled and seething, apparently due to the Astronomy teacher's lack of courtesy.

"Good evening, Albus," he said nonchalantly, although the situation really did not merit casualty.

"My dear Professor Squigley," said Dumbledore with concern in his voice. "What has happened to you? It appears as though someone has, ah, disarmed you."

Yoda and Gandalf chuckled.

"Oh ha ha," Squigley said sarcastically. "It's good to see you've maintained your sense of humor, Dumbledore, even while a dangerous assassin has your school under siege!"

"I assure you nothing of that sort is going on here at Hogwarts, Augustine," Dumbledore assured. "Now kindly tell us what happened to you."

But before Squigley could reply, Yoda spoke.

"My apprentice's doing, this was," he said calmly. "Much anger, young Anakin has."

"He's a loony bastard!" Squigley spat.

"Calm yourself, Augustine," Dumbledore said. "Have a seat."

"And how do you suppose I do that?" Squigley asked.

"Your buttocks is still intact, is it not?" Dumbledore inquired.

"Well, yes," Squigley admitted. "But that does not mean I'm capable of using it!"

"Very well then," the Headmaster sighed. "As I understand it, Yoda comes from a society that is very well advanced in prosthetics. When I return him I'll send you temporarily so that you may retrieve some. Until then..."

He pointed his wand at Squigley.

"...Suspensia!"

Squigley's body remained floating in mid-air, allowing Professor Sinistra to lower her wand.

"Now, where were we..."

Before Dumbledore could find out where they were, his door opened and someone else entered his room in a flash of pink.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Skeeter, but now is not the time," Dumbledore said, looking at the door. "Oh, it's you, Severus."

Sure enough, standing in the doorway was none other than Severus Snape. However, he was no longer dressed in the billowing black robes that usually complemented his sinister mood. Instead, his garments and his greasy hair were the most brilliant shade of pink. He also had a large red bump on his forehead.

"Good evening, Headmaster," Snape said meekly, his normal sneer absent.

"Good evening, Severus," Dumbledore replied, seeming oblivious to the fact that the Potions master now resembled a large stick of bubble gum. "And what do I owe to this most unexpected intrusion?"

"Potter," he began, trying to sound loathsome but failing miserably, "has been putting on a little fist-fight for half the school. As you know, sir, this is a violation of Hogwarts Code 623, which clearly states-"

Snape was cut off suddenly by Yoda, Gandalf, and the two professors, who could contain their amusement no longer. The four of them roared with laughter at Snape, who found it excruciatingly difficult not to hex them into oblivion. Even Dumbledore was forced to smirk.

"That's a good look for you, Snape," said Squigley. "I think you should keep it for the Christmas Ball."

"Shut up, torso boy!" Snape snapped.

"Just shove a stick up his arse and he could be cotton candy!" cried Sinistra.

Snape growled at all of them and was about to retort when the office door was flung open once again. Unfortunately for the Potions master, he was still in front of it, and was crushed between it and the wall with the force of the opening.

The gargantuan form of the gamekeeper, Hagrid, stooped into the office, stopping short at the sight of Squigley and shaking his head.

"Ahh, Hagrid," Dumbledore beamed. "No troubles I hope?"

"Yeh, we got summit," Hagrid replied, and from behind him he pulled a frightened looking young girl. She had red hair and freckles, and was wearing a blue dress and white apron. It was taking all her might to not scream in terror.

"Found 'er down by the lake," Hagrid explained. "I knew she wasn't a student when she got scared o' me. Thought I'd bring 'er up here to yeh. And she had this little guy with 'er.

He held out his hand to reveal a tiny, furry dog that was shaking in Hagrid's giant palm. The others had not noticed it at first against Hagrid's brown coat.

Dumbledore stared at her curiously, as did the others in the room.

"My dear," said Dumbledore calmly. "Where did you come from?"

The girl was shaking like mad, and for a moment he thought she wouldn't answer, but clearly she didn't find Dumbledore as intimidating as Hagrid.

"K-kansas," she squeaked.

"Where the devil is that?" inquired Gandalf.

"The United States," answered Dumbledore. "A far off country. I cannot imagine how she ended up here. She must be a Muggle, though."

"What makes you think so?" demanded Squigley. "This seems mighty suspicious to me."

"Just a feeling," said Dumbledore. "Now if there are no more visitors, I suggest we close the door. Hagrid, if you will."

The gamekeeper pulled the door from the wall, allowing a flattened Professor Snape to emerge, his crooked nose broken, and fall to the floor.

"Sorry, Professor," Hagrid apologized.

"Why you stupid overgrown-" Snape hissed but Dumbledore cut him off.

"Easy, Severus. Remember what I always say. Don't get mad, get Glad!"

Snape grumbled something incoherent but did not leave the floor.

Hagrid proceeded to shut the door, but its closure was prevented by a hand on it. A second later, Professor McGonagall appeared, wearing a red and gold nightgown and a nightcap. The sight before her was quite unusual and quite unexpected.

Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, across from an old, gray, bearded man in tattered robes and a pointy hat, as well as a short, green creature with equally pointy ears and claw-like feet. Nearby was Professor Sinistra standing next to the levitating torso of Professor Squigley, who were both staring at her curiously. Then she spotted, lying on the floor mere feet from where she was standing, Professor Snape was decked out in pink and his nose was bleeding. Finally, she took note of Hagrid, who was clutching a small, fury dog in one hand and holding the arm of a frightened young girl in the other.

"I do hope I'm not interrupting anything...weird," she said with a hint of confusion in her voice. "But there is a farmhouse on the grounds by the lake, Albus. I thought we might should investigate."

"Marvelous idea, Minerva!" Dumbledore beamed. "There does seem to be a lot of that going around! Now come along Agatha, Severus, Hagrid, Augustine, Gandalf, Yoda, strange, little girl. We'll all go!"

Dumbledore rose from his large chair and swept out his office door. Sinistra, McGonagall, Yoda, Gandalf, a disheveled Snape, and Hagrid, along with his red-haired company, followed him.

"Hey!" hollered Squigley as they disappeared. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

***

Meanwhile, on the other end of the school, Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley emerged from...cough, 'screwing', cough...the boy's dormitory, into the catastrophic wreck of the Gryffindor Common Room. Harry gave an amazed whistle and turned to Ginny.

"Looks like a regular hurricane swept through here," he said to his lover. "Now where did Chrome Dome put my wand?"

He and Ginny split up and searched the Common Room for Harry's wand.

"Ginny!" Harry's voice broke the silence, though not anyone's slumber. "How long has there been a toadstool by the fire?"

Ten minutes later, they had turned the room upside down and hadn't found Harry's wand.

"I can't find it!" Harry grumbled. "Where could it be?"

"I don't know," Ginny sighed. "Wait a minute, where's Skywalker?"

The two glanced around and sure enough there was no sign of the Jedi.

"That bastard!" roared Harry. "He stole it! Come on Ginny, we're gonna find that arrogant son of a hinkypunk and take him down once and for all!"

He grabbed his red-haired girlfriend by the arm and tugged her out into the corridor.

***

Dumbledore's party made its way down the corridor swiftly, a mixture of cloak, bearskin, and blue dress flailing out behind them. The journey was a short and uneventful one; the only delay came from Professor Trelawney, Vincent Crabbe, and Dobby the House elf doing the Can-Can across the Charms corridor.

When the group finally reached the Entrance Hall, a terrible sight met their eyes.

Anakin Skywalker stood perched in front of the large oak doors, an ignited lightsaber in one hand and a wand in the other. The utter devastation the pair of lethally dangerous weapons were causing held Dumbledore in awe. If anything in the Hall was still in one piece, it would not stay that way much longer.

"Good heavens!" Professor McGonagall cried. "It's worse than I thought! What are we to do?"

"There's only one thing to do at a time like this!" Dumbledore cried, grabbing the Transfiguration teacher by the arm. "To the International House Of Pancakes!"

And in a whirl of smoke, Dumbledore and McGonagall vanished.

"I thought ya couldn' Apparate outta Hogwarts?" Hagrid said to Professor Sinistra.

"I guess Dumbledore can," observed Sinistra. "Or perhaps he's just stuck in Limbo."

"Nevertheless," said Gandalf the Gray, "I feel we still have work to do here."

He held his staff aloft and muttered something incoherent beneath his breath. In a brilliant flash of golden haze, Anakin was frozen within a semi-transparent bubble.

"A talent you have, Gandalf, for stopping trouble," Yoda said.

At that moment, Harry Potter slid down the opposite banister of the stairs and stared up at them. Ginny Weasley followed suite.

"Where the heck did you go, Gandy?" he inquired of the older wizard.

"I should ask the same of you," Gandalf replied.

"Well I'm glad you caught Skywalker. He took my wand!"

"A dire situation this is," Yoda interjected. "Get any worse, how could it?"

No sooner had he finished his reversed interrogative statement than an icy wind gripped the Hall. Frost grazed every inch of the floors, ceiling, and furniture, and Harry drew his robes tighter about himself.

"You had to ask," he said grimly.

He scurried back up the stairs just as a ghastly Dementor drifted in through the oak front doors. The horrid creature swiveled its head from side to side, as if it was scrutinizing its prey with nonexistent eyes. It must have decided Ginny a suitable target, for it moved right toward her. Harry made to defend it, but realized he still didn't have his wand and instead used himself as a physical shield in front of Ginny. Just as the Dementor closed in on the couple, Remus Lupin leapt down from the second floor and faced the Dementor head on.

"Expecto Patronum!" he bellowed.

In one flash of brilliant white light, the creature retreated.

Everyone in the hall was shivering, except for Anakin, still suspended in his bubble.

"Don't worry everyone," Lupin sighed. "I've got something that will help."

He pulled a bar of chocolate from the depths of his robes, a Wonka bar to be specific, and tore open the wrapper. Something gold fluttered to the floor. Curiously, Lupin picked it up and examined it. Harry and Ginny peered at the piece of paper over his shoulder.

"You've found Wonka's last Golden Ticket!" Ginny gasped.

Lupin's eyes went wide.

"Why, you're right!" he cried in glee.

The werewolf spun out into the middle of the hall and began to sing.

I never thought my life could be

anything but catastrophe,

but now I'm beginning to see

a bit of good luck for me!

'Cause I've got a Golden Ticket!

I've got a-

His serenade was abruptly cut off.

Yoda had leapt into the air, ignited his lightsaber, and cut off Lupin's withered hand, all in a mere second. The Golden Ticket fluttered to the floor, followed by a human hand.

"That song, you must not sing!" Yoda growled, extinguishing his lightsaber as he did so.

"Ahh!" winced Lupin. "Why is it always the hand with you people?"

"Oh, quit whining, Lupin!" Snape snarled. "At least your not pink!"

"Geez, go have a coffee, Snape," Lupin snapped.

Harry cleared his throat.

"Well if you cheery fellows are done chatting," he said. "I'm going to get my wand."

He made his way over to the bubble that Anakin was floating in and reached for the wand that the Jedi held in his grip.

"No don't!" Gandalf cried, but it was too late.

As soon as Harry's hand touched the shimmering surface of the bubble, it exploded with the force of a hydrogen bomb. Harry was hurled across the room and the rest of the occupants were blasted to the floor. Anakin, on the other hand, landed gracefully on his feet.

When the smoke had cleared, Gandalf and Harry were the first ones to stumble back into a standing position. The older of the two coughed and wiped soot from his aged face.

"I warned you, boy!" the wizard snapped. "Why don't you ever listen to me?"

"Oh blah, blah, blah, that's all I hear," Harry grumbled.

He scanned the hall, ignoring the scorched stone walls, shattered glass, ruined portraits, and destroyed furniture, until finally, his eyes let on a small piece of wood lying on the ground.

"Accio wand!" he said.

The wand flew across the room in his direction, but stopped a third of the way there. A few yards away, Anakin was using the Force to keep the wand at bay. Unfortunately for the wizard but to the delight of the Jedi, it was gradually moving back in the latter's direction.

"Your power is insignificant compared to mine!" he cackled. "Soon I will be the most powerful being in the universe!"

Just when it seemed as though all hope was lost, the great oak doors flung open, crashing into Anakin and hurtling him across the room. Harry's wand, at long last, returned to his grip. The remaining occupants of the hall stared out into the night, only to see a wretched-looking figure limping towards them rapidly. The figure entered the hall and quickly closed and latched the doors. When he turned to face the others, they reacted with a mixture of horror and mild amusement.

Seamus Finnigan, or so it would appear to be, stood panting, bleeding, and leaning up against the door. His torn, dirty, and bloodstained robes were only a few threads away from falling to rags about his feet. A broken, bloody nose, numerous scratches, and a bruised complexion adorned his face, crowned by what could only be described as a burnt mop. To complete this shattered person, his left hand was missing.

"Seamus!" Hagrid bellowed. "What happened to yeh?"

Before the "Irish Sith" could speak, however, a mob of students, some of them having just sobered up from the after-party of the boxing match, flooded into the Entrance Hall. Clearly shocked by the most unusual scene before them, they fell silent at once.

"What happened, Mr. Finnigan?" Professor Sinistra repeated Hagrid's inquiry.

Seamus could only groan in reply.

"Calmly now, Seamus!" Hermione coaxed.

Finally, the young Gryffindor found his voice.

"The Norwegians are coming!" he shouted. "The Norwegians are coming!"

No sooner had these words reached the ears of the students in the back of the crowd than the massive oak doors gave a thundering rumble. A silence followed, in which the crowd waited apprehensively. Then the doors rumbled again, and it appeared as though the scorched and bombarded doors had finally reached their breaking point. The enormous wooden structures creaked and began to fall forward. Harry distinctly heard Seamus mutter, "Just my luck," right before he was crushed beneath the falling doors. The oxygen level of the room dropped as the mob of wizards and witches in the room watched Seamus squashed, and then their gaze turned toward the open entrance. Through the cloud of dust that had accumulated around the crash, several ponderous figures could be made out stepping onto the wreckage. Dozens of girls screamed as three great Vikings appeared, their long amber hair and beards fluttering slightly in the breeze. The men were adorned with full body armor, gray and gleaming, and winged helmets shielded their skulls. Then men's red boots reached as high as the sheaths that held swords longer than Anakin's lightsaber. Behind these three stood what appeared to be an entire army of these men, not as elaborately dressed, though nonetheless intimidating. The tallest of the leading three, who held a long gold staff in his enormous hand, stepped forward and spoke in a deep, bellowing voice that would put Hagrid to shame.

"Hvor er den som spotter våre dialekter?"

"Uhh, does anyone here speak Norwegian?" Harry asked the large crowd of students, teachers, and Merlin knows what else.

"Oh, I do Harry!" squeaked an excited voice.

Harry glanced over to see, much to his dismay, Cho Chang pushing her way to the front of the crowd.

"I can speak Norwegian, Harry!" she cried. "Isn't that cool?"

"Okay," Harry said. "Does anyone else speak Norwegian?"

"Oh come on, Harry!" squealed Cho. "Let me do it!"

Harry sighed and flicked his wand toward the air. A six-ton anvil appeared over Cho's head, fell on top of her, and crushed her.

That's better, Harry thought.

"The Wicked Witch of the East is dead!" Professor Snape sang with glee. "Ohhh, follow the Yellow Brick Road, follow the Yellow Brick Road!"

Professor Sinistra slowly turned her head to stare at the Potions Master.

"What in blue blazes are you talking about, Severus?"

"Saw it in a movie," Snape replied.

"Anyway," Harry continued. "Does anyone else speak Norwegian?"

Perhaps worse than Cho, Draco Malfoy stepped out of the crowd. Harry noticed that he now sported some brilliant white whiskers, and his pale ears were slightly pointed and pink.

"I'll handle this, Potter," he said, and then turned to the Viking leader. "Hilsning, venner! Hva fører De til vår bra borg?"

The Viking paused, perhaps a bit amused by Malfoy's surely present accent, but then repeated the same statement he had spoken before.

Malfoy's brow furrowed.

"He says, 'Where is the one who mocks our dialects?'"

The white-haired man turned and gave the crowd an inquisitive look.

"Ah, that would be whiz kid over there," Gandalf said, motioning to Harry.

The Viking turned his bearded face and stared straight at Harry; no, Harry was pretty sure he was glaring.

"Not good," Harry squeaked.

Face contorted with rage, the Norwegian drew a great gleaming saber from the sheath on his belt and raised it into the air, bellowing, "Drep Ham!"

"You're dead, Potter," Malfoy sniggered.

As the ponderous figure advanced on him, Harry was struck with a sudden sense of fear that clouded his mind and made him unable to think of any spells. His wand shook in his grip and his eyes swam; he was barely able to see the shining sword above his head. And then, in a flash of red, white, and blue, it was gone. His head cleared at once, Harry, and the rest of the crowd, were astonished to see the red-haired girl from Kansas, who only moments before was shivering within the awesome shadow of Rubeus Hagrid, now stood atop the fallen Viking, pounding him with one hand and scratching his face with the other. Soon the Norwegian moved no more. He was not dead, merely unconscious.

Without a word, the girl stood up, smoothed her dress, and smiled a heart-wrenching smile at Harry. The young wizard merely stared at her, mouth agape.

"Wha-? How? Thanks," he finally managed to get out. "But why did you save me?"

"Oh," she replied calmly. "I've dealt with Vikings before. We get a lot of them in Oz (Harry did not know, nor did he care where Oz was). By the way, my name is Dorothy."

"Well, thanks a lot, Dorothy" Harry said again.

"Besides," the girl continued. "I think you're kinda cute."

Harry blushed and grinned goofily at her, something that was usually reserved for girls he liked.

"Why you little-" Ginny growled, moving toward the girl angrily, but Hagrid's massive hands grabbed her from behind.

"Easy, there, Ginny," he said. "We don' want any more trouble today."

Observing the situation from their positions nearby, Ron and Hermione shook their heads.

"What is it with Harry and redheads?" Ron asked his chesty girlfriend.

"It's just a fetish of his," Hermione replied, always on top of things.

"Kind of like I have with large breasts?" said Ron.

"Would I be wearing a Double E size bra if you didn't?" Hermione chuckled.

Meanwhile, the rest of the Norwegians were staring at their fallen leader. Then, in a sudden turn of events, they began to cheer and bellow foreign words of gratitude (the identity of which was confirmed by Malfoy), and offered gifts of ale and wool clothing to their redheaded country-girl savior.

"Well, that was unexpected," said Harry.

The same could be said of the sudden reappearance of Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall in the middle of the Entrance Hall. The headmaster and his deputy were both holding heaping plates of pancakes.

"We're back!" Dumbledore announced enthusiastically. "And you'll never guess who I ran into at the IHOP. John Mayer!"

At these words, a nervous looking young American stepped out from behind Dumbledore, a guitar hung about his shoulder. Dumbledore beamed.

"He has sportingly agreed to come here tonight and give us all a concert for only three hundred Galleons! Everyone, to the Great Hall!"

The crowd cheered, and gradually filtered into the hall, which had magically been transformed into a dance hall with a stage at the far end where the teacher's table normally sat. Gandalf and Yoda, knowing that they weren't going to get home anytime soon (and being party-animals at heart) joined them. Professor Sinistra had a sudden epiphany and ran off to Dumbledore's office, returning shortly with the limbless Professor Squigley. Dorothy, escorted by Harry himself, entered as well. Hagrid was meanwhile fumbling for a hippogriff tranquilizer to use on the rabid Ginny, who was desperately trying to free herself from the gamekeeper's iron grip.

Inside there was one hell of a party. John Mayer played some famous songs of his from one of his albums, accompanied by Professor Dumbledore on the piccolo and Professor Flitwick on the cello (not exactly the most melodic combination, but you didn't expect those guys to play anything normal did you?) Gandalf and Yoda, feeling a rush of adrenaline from their high school days, leapt of stage and floated along the sea of students. Hagrid, having successfully sedated Ginny Weasley, tried the same, with slightly less rewarding results. Harry danced with Dorothy, and she told him all about herself. Soon, he grew quite attracted to her, but his heart was with Ginny, and so they kept the status one level bellow. They've been best friends ever since (thanks to inter-dimension warp-mail). Professor Squigley danced, or floated to be more precise, with the always affable Professor Sprout, while Professor McGonagall cut a rug with Nearly Headless Nick. Pink and Pummeled Severus Snape even lightened up for the night and danced with Pansy Parkinson (Pansy was still a little hung over from the earlier boxing match). The Vikings, though they could not understand a word of Mayer's lyrics, also seemed to be enjoying themselves, which was more than could be said of Seamus Finnigan and Anakin Skywalker. The two of them had attained so many injuries in the past 24 hours that even skilled Madame Pomfrey was unable to tend to all of their wounds, and shipped them off to St. Mungo's.

For the most part, it had been a magnificent day, and it was all thanks to one little mispronounced spell. Life's kind of funny, isn't it?

THE END

(no, I mean it this time)