Making No Sense Whatsoever

"How's Ron doing, Madam Pomfrey?" asked Harry. He and Hermione had been standing outside the door of the Hospital wing, waiting for what seemed to be hours.

"Well, I'm afraid he's entered a more severe stage of his madness. He is suffering from the delusion that he is ..."

"Je suis Napoleon!" cried a voice from inside. Poking their heads in, Harry and Hermione saw that Ron was wearing the stereotypical Napoleon hat. He was also standing dramatically on his bed with his right hand tucked into his shirt.

"I'm not entirely sure, but I believe he thinks he's Gandhi," explained Madam Pomfrey. Hermione beamed suddenly and turned to Harry.

"Who's up for a trip to Russia?"

"Ah oui, maintenant c'est le deuxiéue round!"

~|~

"Settle down! Settle down!" said McGonagall forcefully to the babbling Defence Against the Dark Arts class. She had been given the uneasy task of introducing the new teacher to them. "SIT DOWN AND SHUT THE HELL UP!" she shrieked. The class was finally quiet. Taking a deep breath, Professor McGonagall gripped the edge of the desk. "It is my unfortunate duty ...to introduce your new teacher. He may be young but he still has more brains than all of you put together, especially you, Mr. Longbottom. Your new teacher, Professor Allen." The door opened and a small, ginger haired, goofy looking boy walked through. He had big, thick glasses and was dressed in a green blazer and shorts. As he crossed to the front of the class, Professor McGonagall passed him on her way out, making sure to whisper, "Your funeral, kid." Placing a small pile of books on his desk, he turned to the class, smiling broadly.

"Hello class, how progresses the day?"

"Il y a la traîtrise partout. Je ne me fie ã personne!" declared Ron. Looking from the ginger Emperor of France to the ginger child at the front of the class, Hermione could swear she saw some resemblance.

"You know, Professor Allen, you and Ron look amazingly alike. Are you related?"

"Oh no, I don't believe so. Though I will admit there is some remarkable similitude in our physical appearance."

"There's no way they're related," stated Harry firmly.

"Anyway, don't concern yourself with such demanding formalities, please just call me Alan," said the diminutive teacher as he started writing on the blackboard. By the time most of the class tried to figure out what he was on about, Professor Allen had covered the blackboard with his course plan and aims. Harry raised his hand.

"Um ...Alan, it may just be me, but most of that looks like science talk to me."

"Very astute of you, Harry. Indeed my course will have a great deal to do with science. For you see, I'm a genius!" he said dramatically. He waited for it to have an effect, but Hermione only raised her hand slowly.

"Aren't we supposed to be learning Defence Against the Dark Arts? You know, magic?" Professor Allen smiled so broadly that his glasses nearly fell off.

"Ah, but don't you see? Science can be just as effective a protection against the forces of immorality as magic. You can invent all kinds of protective devices. For example, I recently built a pair of Thunderpants for my good associate, Patrick. My ingenious design allows him to collect gaseous emissions from his rectum in a holding unit. The possibilities concerning creative invention are endless!" There was a slight pause broken by a simultaneous 'Huh?' from the whole class. Except for Ron, who exclaimed,

"Meus bon cuisses de grenouilles, qu'est ce que vous dissent, chien anglais?" The fireplace to the left of the teacher's desk roared into life. The head of a young, dopey looking boy appeared with a slight pop.

"Hello, Alan! I've got a bit of a problem." Alan strolled over to the fire and bent down to speak to his friend properly.

"Hello Patrick, what seems to be the predicament?"

"It's the Thunderpants, I think I broke them. Oh ...uh oh!" Alan stepped back carefully from the fire.

"Now Patrick, try to contain it. It would be most unwise for you to do that so close to the fire ..." It was too late, Patrick's face became contorted as he let off a colossal fart. The gas naturally combined with the flames in the fireplace to form one hell of big explosion. Most of the class managed to duck underneath their desks. When the flames had subsided, they gradually emerged to see Patrick's face still in the fire, his hair and eye brows slightly singed. Professor Alan was rigid, his face blackened, glasses melted and his shorts smoking.

"Sorry about that, Alan. I can't control my arse," apologised Patrick.

"That's quite all right, Patrick ...quite understandable." With that, the young educator fell stiffly to the floor. As Patrick's head disappeared, there came a great rushing sound, extinguishing the fire. A bitter chill fell upon the whole room. Suddenly a great flash of light blinded everyone in the room. When it faded away, everyone could see the bright, shimmering entity at the front of the class. They sat in awe of it and shrunk back when it spoke.

"I am the all knowing, all criticising Review Button. I have ultimate power to judge every aspect of your puny and insignificant existences. I have made myself known to you so that I may deliver unto you all your most terrible review ..." Its powerful voice was interrupted by a loud cry from above. Ron had climbed into the rafters of the ceiling and had his wand ready.

"Vous allez mourrir, connard!" he screamed just before dropping on top of the entity. The Review Button fell to the floor, crippled by the impact of Ron's falling body. Ron quickly jumped off and pointed his wand at the Review Button, cursing it into oblivion while laughing triumphantly. There was a mixed reaction of applause and general looks of confusion.

"Doesn't it seem strange that a powerful entity should just appear like that and attempt to review us all? It's even stranger that we should be given a child as a teacher," observed Hermione.

"I think it's stranger that Ron is speaking fluent French when he's only just mastered English," said Harry. The door flew open and Professors Dumbledore and Snape came running in.

"What in the name of Merlin's thong is going on in here?" demanded Snape. Dumbledore spotted the unconscious Professor Allen by the fireplace. He sighed as he prodded him with his foot.

"Well, that's got to be some kind of record, ten teachers in ten chapters ...I mean days. I'm sick to the false teeth with all of this. Severus, you'll be taking over as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher as of tomorrow." Snape launched himself into a dance and a song of joy, which for him consisted of bobbing up and down on the balls of his feet a bit and giving a slight cough.

"So, we have a permanent Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, but now we need to find a new Potions teacher," stated Hermione.

"Do I smell a spin off series?" asked Harry optimistically.

"NO, YOU DON'T!" bellowed the author.