Making No Sense Whatsoever

"I appreciate your help Minerva, we've got to really scrape the bottom of the barrel to find a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher," said Dumbledore as he leafed through the pile of CV's in his lap.

"Of course," muttered Professor McGonagall. "The thing is, we need someone who can defend themselves. Professor Robinson claims she was attacked by a terrible power."

"It's probably just as well she left. We only have room for one overbearing cow on the staff."

"Thank you, Albus," said Minerva gratefully. She had almost gotten to the bottom of the pile she had been reading when she came across something interesting. "What about this one?" Dumbledore took the parchment from her and read it carefully. His face turned a dark shade of purple as he handed it back to her.

"I don't think so Minerva. Not in a million years."

"What happened to scraping the bottom of the barrel?"

"That's not just scarping the bottom of the barrel! That's breaking through the bottom and opening up a whole other barrel!" McGonagall looked over the form again.

"I don't see the problem. He's defended a whole world against a Dark Lord, he should be able to teach our students a thing or two."

"That doesn't stop him being a git. Believe me Minerva, I know this man. We learned magic together." Minerva checked the form again.

"But he's given his age as over several thousand. Just how old are you Albus?"

"Don't change the subject!" Dumbledore snapped irritably. "The point is, this guy pretends to be all wise and sage like, but under all the theatrics he's a jerk."

"Takes one to know one. Well we should at least give him a chance."

"Oh, I've heard that before. What was it you said just before the start of last year?" He put on a mocking Scottish accent. "Oh but Albus, this Dolores Umbridge sounds so nice. It would be wonderful to have another woman on staff; we should at least give her a chance. No way." Eventually McGonagall persuaded him to hire the new teacher, as he was the best for the job. When she left to send the owl he pulled an old sock out of a drawer in his desk and began talking to it. "Did you see that? The nerve of that woman. Yes, you're right, she's against me. They're all against me, against us. No, not yet ...but soon."

~|~

Outside the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, Hermione was having another of her rants. Harry and Ron were pretending to listen, as usual. Ron had finally been let out of all the various restraints that Madam Pomfrey had insisted on. One would have thought that it was because of the Review Button's attack on Professor Robinson and people were finally starting to realise that Ron wasn't crazy. Sadly this was not the case. He had been let out of the restraints because the delivery of tranquillisers Madam Pomfrey ordered had finally arrived. Thanks to these, Ron was now as calm and carefree as a rabbit with a lifetime supply of particularly large carrots.

"I hope this lesson will be more productive than the last seven. Honestly, we've learned nothing so far this year."

"That's not true," said Harry. "We learned a great deal from Professor Blobby about Gunging Hexes." Hermione hit him sharply over the head with a book, namely the big print version of 'Hogwarts, A History'. Ron was too busy staring at his hand and giggling to pay any attention. The classroom door opened by itself. The whole class seemed drawn into the room by some great force. It couldn't be eagerness or the need for punctuality, it probably had more to do with the spell the new teacher had placed on the door. About five minutes into the lesson the students were beginning to suspect (or hope) that Dumbledore had finally failed to find a replacement teacher. Such hopes were dashed when a blinding white light suddenly appeared at the front of the classroom. Hands went up to faces in an attempt to shield eyes but Ron just gazed directly into the light, smiled pleasantly and swayed to the music in his head. From the very light itself, a powerful voice spoke,

"I am the servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Arnor ...but you may call me Gandalf." The light faded to reveal a kindly old man in dazzling white robes. Instead of a wand he carried a long staff. His hair and beard were as white as his robes. The whole class sat in awe at the magnificent sight, except Ron, who was running his finger down his quill in amazement. The stupor was broken by none other than Draco Malfoy.

"You're late!" he shouted obnoxiously. Gandalf gave him a stern look.

"A wizard is never late, Mr. Malfoy. Nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to."

"So you meant to arrive late?" At Gandalf's command, a board rubber flew across the room and hit Draco directly on the head. Just as it did, Professor Dumbledore strolled into the room in an over casual way.

"Dumbledore," stated Gandalf coldly.

"Gandalf," replied Dumbledore just as icily. "Just pretend I'm not here. Routine teacher inspection, that's all," he explained unconvincingly. Gandalf gladly ignored the old coot and started his lesson.

"Today, we shall be harnessing the very elements themselves. Here is a simple little spell." He indicated to a small pile of wood on the floor to his side. Lifting his staff high he cried, "Naur an edraith ammen!" He then thrust the end of his staff into the pile, which burst into flames.

"Ha!" said a derisive voice from the back of the classroom.

"Am I to assume you are not impressed, Dumbledore?"

"Oh no, it's very impressive and very useful I'm sure ...if you were going camping which among today's youth is about as popular as salmonella." Gandalf smirked confidently.

"Well I find it to be most useful when travelling, but you wouldn't know much about that." The whole class let out an exclamation of 'Burn!' Dumbledore pretended to be cleaning his glasses when in actuality he was imagining some terrible things happening to Gandalf. They mostly concerned that damn staff of his and a very dark place. Hermione raised her hand.

"Professor ..."

"Gandalf!" snapped Dumbledore. "You don't call Hagrid or Madam Hooch 'Professor' because they're not. You shall address him as 'Gandalf'. Me, I earned the right to be called 'Professor'." Hermione ignored him.

"It's just that, we can already do that with a simple Incendio charm." Gandalf's smile twinkled with a grandfatherly kind of warmth.

"Ah, but can you do this with a simple Incendio charm? Uh, Mr. Malfoy, would you kindly come to the front of the class?" Draco reluctantly rose from his seat and walked up next to Gandalf. "Now, if you'd like to stand a little further away ...that's it ...now stand very still." Gandalf raised his staff again. "Naur an edraith ammen! Naur dan i ngaurhoth!" The whole room flashed with lightning. That is, until the full force of the spell came crashing down on Malfoy. He shook violently and his hair began to singe (yes, even the hair you're thinking of all you Draco lovers). The whole class applauded colossally as Draco stood with his eyebrows on fire. Outraged, Dumbledore jumped out of his seat and pulled out his wand. He sent a powerful jet of water in Draco's direction. In his rush he had accidentally conjured a jet of sewage water but that didn't matter to him right now.

"Gandalf, this is a school! You may have gone around frying Orcs left, right and centre in Middle earth but around here we put in a request to have a student half electrocuted!"

"Ah, but there are older and fouler things than Orcs in the deep places of the world. In fact, there's something fouler in this very room." A low 'ooohhh' resounded across the room. Dumbledore had now had enough.

"I have now had enough!" (Told you so.) "Ever since we were young you've rubbed your success in my face and I'm not going to take it any more!"

"I made the right choices, Dumbledore. I can hardly apologise for studying hard while you were off chasing Galadriel."

"She couldn't resist me!" protested Dumbledore.

"No doubt," muttered Gandalf. "The point is I worked hard so I could choose to wander Middle Earth. You slacked off so you had to go into teaching."

"Yes, well ...I ...you ...back then..." stuttered Dumbledore as he tried to think of a good comeback.

"He's got you there, Dumbledore," observed Harry cheekily.

"Shut up!" growled Dumbledore dangerously. Draco made an attempt to raise his hand in order to gain the medical attention he needed.

"Uh, can I please go to the hospital wing? Or at least lie down for a while?"

"Sure," snapped Dumbledore irritably as he casually prodded Draco so that he fell rigidly to the floor. Now that that was dealt with, he turned his attention back to Gandalf. "I knew I shouldn't have hired you ...you come here showing off with your spotless robes and big staff ..."

"Actually, that staff's very impressive, what do you think, Ron?" asked Hermione.

"The dancing flames wake me in the night and show me their glowing domain," answered Ron dreamily.

"Why can't we use staffs? They'd be a lot better than these diddy little things," complained Harry as he looked at his wand in a new light.

"No they wouldn't!" bawled Dumbledore. "It's not the size that counts, it's how you use it!" There was a simultaneous 'Yeah, right!' from every female in the classroom. Gandalf and Dumbledore continued their argument over their already confusing past. The rest of the class simply sat back and watched. It was like a magical Soap Opera. Bored by all the shouting, Ron decided to examine his shoes for signs of tampering. He soon met an old friend on the floor.

"Hello, don't I know you from somewhere? Oh, you're the Review Button thingy. How have you been?"