Illogical Nonsense

Illogical Nonsense
Potter47

And then there was...him or her.

Is...it...a he or a she?

Harry puzzled over this for hours during Potions class. Not that NEWT level Potions was hours long. It did feel like it, however, and Harry did not have the best view during the time. He was seated directly behind Blaise Zabini. From the back, it was impossible to tell whether the...person, was male or female. The person did have pigtails, but it could not be certain...and Harry suspected it might just be male.

Alas, it was impossible to tell from the front as well, but Harry did not know that.

"Attention!" barked Professor Snape. "A rumour has been circulating," he continued to bark, "that I bark at you during class. I do not bark. I take it as an insult to be compared with a canine in anyway, and if I hear anyone, of any house, say this, I will personally assure you do not have a free night for the rest of your time at Hogwarts."

The majority of the class stared blankly ahead, and Snape quirked an eyebrow. "That means...detention," he elaborated unbarkingly. "Why is no-one paying attention?" he bar--erm, he said gruffly.

"Because, sir," said Hermione Granger, "the class is being silent so that Harry can have an internal debate concerning the gender of Blaise Zabini," she said obviously.

"Oh," said Snape, having no reply to that. "I do not have a reply to that..."

A strange choking sound filled the dungeon. Harry was awoken from his reverie, without coming to any conclusions, and he looked back and forth to see what the noise was. It was rather distracting.

"Oh Merlin!" said Millicent Bulstrode anxiously. "Gregory is choking on an apple seed!"

And it was true; Goyle was indeed choking on an apple seed. One must wonder what an apple was doing in the potions dungeon...

"What was an apple doing in the potions dungeon?" snapped Snape. "Apples do not belong anywhere near the subtle science and exact art that is potion making!"

One must also wonder what Goyle was doing in NEWT level Potions. Alas, Snape did not volunteer this question as well. And how he choked on an apple seed, too. They are rather small...and Goyle had a large throat...

After a minute or two of slapping the boy's large back, Millicent succeeded in extracting the culprit from Goyle's throat. "Twenty points from--" began Snape, and surely he was going to say "Gryffindor" for no reason at all, but he stopped at the odd sight of a chicken flying through his door.

"What is a chicken doing in the potions dungeon?" snapped Snape. "Chickens do not belong anywhere near the subtle science and exact art that is potion making!"

The chicken, however, flew over to the recovering Goyle and dropped a letter down on the desk in front of him.

"What does it say?" said Hermione curiously, notebook in hand. "I've never seen a chicken delivering mail before, and I want to take note of it."

Slowly, Goyle opened the letter. His face contorted as he tried to sound out the first word.

"I'll read it, you pathetic boy," insulted Snape, snatching the letter away from him. "It says,

"Congratulations, GREGORY GOYLE. You have won our Bloody Chicken contest, which was inspired by something your dear friend Mr Draco Malfoy said in a recent film: "You and your bloody chicken!" This is the first annual Bloody Chicken award, and it goes to the first person ever to do something very, very, chicken-like. Now, you may not think that choking on an apple seed is very chicken-like, but then you've never been to my uncle's farm, have you? I thought not. As a reward for winning our contest, you get to keep the chicken which delivered your letter. Her name is Loretta, and she loves a quiet home. We hope you'll take care of her, because she's very, very nice. Except when a toad is within close vicinity to her and her eggs. Then she becomes very, very mean and is liable to peck. Have a nice day."

Snape looked up from the letter, his mouth open and his face disbelieving.

"Yay!" said Goyle, "I got a chicken!"

"Mr Malfoy?" said Snape icily.

"Yes, Professor?" replied the blonde.

"Damn you."

--|--

"I wish I were a cow..." said Luna dreamily, sitting at the Gryffindor table for no particular reason.

"Well," said Hermione, raising her wand threateningly, "you could be, if you don't shut up with your illogical nonsense and eat at your own table..."

"Leave her alone, Hermione," said Neville defensively. "She's my girlfriend, despite the lack of any canonical evidence that would indicate so, and she can sit here if she wants to."

"Then I would have nice black spots..."

"You know," said Harry, arm round Hermione's shoulders, "this whole scene seems messed up somehow..."

"Yeah," said Ron, gazing, entranced, at Lavender Brown. "It does. Even Hermione does, since she'd never actually threaten Luna to her face."

"I don't know," said Ginny, sitting unnecessarily close to Colin Creevey, "It seems almost normal. Except..."

"What?" asked Hermione, feeding Harry a piece of buttered toast.

"And I could blend in with a Gateway computer box..."

"All the 'ships are messed up, you dunderheads!" shouted Professor Snape from the teachers' table.

All heads in the Great Hall spun round to see Professor Snape, pulling sharply away from Madam Hooch, who was clinging to his arm. Well, all heads except for Luna, who was busy saying that "And I could eat grass all day long, not a care in the world..."

"What?" said Hermione.

"Everyone's been paired with the easiest person to pair them with!" shouted Snape irritated. "Like the Weasley girl and Creevey--they're both in the same year. That's all the evidence supporting that 'ship. That's it."

"So?" said Neville, moving closer to Luna.

"And you! Longbottom!" bar--um...hollered Snape. "You're only paired with Lovegood because you're both unpopular! Big whoop! That's no basis for a romantic relationship!"

"And why exactly are you pointing this out to us?" said Hermione suspiciously.

"Because I'm dreadfully out of character!"

"Oh."

"And you and Potter!" he shouted at Hermione. "Other than those blasted Skeeter articles, and the toast you brought him, what possible evidence is there of you two falling in love?"

"Um, erm..." said Hermione, which meant, "Absolutely none, but I can't admit it because I too am dreadfully out of character!"

Professor Snape stood atop the teachers' table, cast "Sonorous!" on his own throat, and began pointing out every single illogical pairing in the room. Eventually, Hermione stood up on her seat.

"There must be a spell to fix this! I'll go check the library!" which meant, of course, "I'm a bit more in character! Yay!"

"What does magic have to do with it?" cried Snape questioningly. "What we need to do is get the author!"

A roar went up through the room, and soon a chant began: "KILL THE AUTHOR! KILL THE AUTHOR!"

Uh oh. Erm....

Excuse me while I run into the next illogical short story...

--|--

Ah, here I am. Nice and safe.

"Why didn't anyone come?" Malfoy asked his mirror whiningly.

"Maybe it's because you look like a slimy ferret baby who got up on the wrong side of the crib/burrow this morning?" answered the mirror rudely.

"That's not nice!" exclaimed Malfoy, bursting into tears.

"Yeah, so? I'm a very rude mirror that comments something about anybody who is near me. Deal with it, ferret boy."

"I'm going to tell my mummy!"

"She won't be able to hear you underneath all that wrapping."

"Wha--oh." Draco had said 'mummy'. "I'm sick of this short story!"

No! We can't go back--

--|--

"KILL THE AUTHOR! KILL THE AUTHOR! KILL THE AUTHOR!"

No! I must escape! But there is no Apparating or Disapparating on Hogwarts grounds! Damn you, Hogwarts: a History!

Okay, breathe. This is only the second time I've been stuck in a fanfic this week. Not too bad. How do I get out!?

Oh, yes. I know...

"KILL THE AUTHOR! KILL THE AUTHOR! KILL THE AUTHOR!"

There is only one way out. I must include the simple answer to 50*24/3+2-6 in the ending phrase! And there's one sure-fire way to do that!

"Three-hundred-and-ninety-six!" shouted Luna randomly, and I make my escape.

~ Finis ~

I escaped! Yes! For those of you who are immeasurably confuzzled, I will explain the origins of "Illogical Nonsense" to you.

Browsing on Fiction Alley, I noticed a challenge entitled "The 15 Things Challenge." Not the most imaginative title, I admit, but an imaginative challenge just the same. The challenge required the author to include at least ten of fifteen completely random things in a story. And I did. It was quite fun, actually...

If you would like to see the list of requirements, I'm sure you can find the challenge at Fiction Alley park, because I cannot at the moment.

Auravwah!

Oh. That's not how you spell goodbye in French? Well, I've never taken French, so how would I know?