Burnt Cookies and Dog Tags

Burnt Cookies, Clichés, and Dog Tags

"They´re doing what?!" gasped Harry.

"A magical cooking class. I know I´m going to join. I think you should, too!" said Hermione brightly.

"You want me to learn how to cook? But, Hermione, why?"

"It´s a valuable learning experience, it´s something you´ll be able to use your entire life, and you can take it instead of Potions for a half of a year."

"Sign me up!" said Harry excitedly. It was Christmas break of Harry, Hermione, Ron, and everyone else who was in seventh year´s...well...seventh year. There were two days left until classes started again, but most of the students had just returned home. Hermione, of course, had come back well-equipped with books which she had read at least four times and had moved on to school literature which Harry really had no idea existed. Apparently, there was some sort of class one could take to learn magical and Muggle cooking which, because of all the mixing of ingredients and such, was considered an alternative to Potions. Harry was sure that if word got out about it, there would no longer be enough students to actually have a regular Potions class.

"Of course," Hermione was saying, "I expect that I´ll be taking Potions as well. I can´t let my magical education go to waste even if I want to learn some Muggle traits." Harry shook his head.

"What is wrong with you?" he asked incredulously.

"There´s nothing wrong with me, Harold James Potter," said Hermione, sniffing. "Just because you don´t want to further your magical capabilities doesn´t mean that I have to ruin my magical education."

"All right, all right, Hermione," said Harry quickly. "I was just kidding." He rolled his eyes.

"Speaking of jokes, where is Ron?" asked Hermione, looking around the Common Room. "He said he´d be waiting with you when he wrote to me, but I guess he can´t even take time out of his busy schedule to come and see me."

"He went to the bathroom about half an hour ago," started Harry, "but he never came back."

"Curious," muttered Hermione. Right on cue, though this is in no way a play, movie, or TV show of any kind whatsoever, does not really have cues, and should not be interpreted, rewritten, or sold to Warner Bros.™ as a movie, play, TV show, copyright to action figures, or any other kind of entertainment that might somehow require cues for fear of completely RUINING THE STORY, Ron burst in through the Portrait Hole.

"You guys will never believe what I´ve just seen!" he burst out.

"Wait, wait, let me guess," said Harry. "You´ve just seen down the inside of some girl´s throat for the past half an hour which is why you´re late."

"No, I - "

"You´ve just seen that the Bulgarian Quidditch team is seeking reserves at this school," cut in Hermione.

"No, there was - "

"Wait, wait, let me guess," interjected Harry sarcastically. "You´ve just seen Draco Malfoy go by dressed in black leather, a spiked collar, and wearing dog tags."

"No, I - well, actually, that´s exactly what I was going to say." Harry´s and Hermione´s jaws dropped lower than Neville´s Potions grade.

"You can´t be serious!" gasped Harry.

"Now there´s something I´d like to see," said Hermione thoughtfully.

"I thought I was your boyfriend!" protested Harry.

"Right, right," said Hermione, clearly not aware of her surroundings. "Boyfriend." A thin stream of drool began to trickle out of the side of her mouth. Ron and Harry both made a face.

"Do something about her," Ron said, clearly disgusted.

"Why should I?" asked Harry, also horrified.

"She´s your girlfriend." Harry sighed and pushed her flat onto the couch.

"Now at least her drool will stay in her mouth. Come on, Ron, I want to see this horrific sight you´ve just described to me." They both made their way out of the Common Room and down to the Great Hall. When they got there, both stopped dead in their tracks.

"Oh, my God," Ron whispered.

"It´s like a graveyard," Harry muttered, more frightened than he could ever remember being. "What happened?" The Great Hall was filled with statues of females in the same position as they had just left Hermione. At least a hundred teenage girls and a dozen or so teenage boys were standing in the Great Hall at various places, drooling enough to fill an Olympic sized swimming pool. Here and there, average looking guys dressed in baggy jeans and Hogwarts robes were snapping their fingers in front of their girlfriends´ faces.

"Draco Malfoy happened," choked out Ron.

"No, it can´t be," said Harry. He leaped up onto a random chair placed in the middle of the room. "Boys of Hogwarts! Listen to me!" he shouted. All around the room hopeful faces looking for a hero turned towards him.

"I know who did this!" One particularly average boy called back, "who? Tell us, Harry, for we shall avenge our girlfriends!"

Several more brave voices rang out through the hall. "Yes, tell us Harry!"

"Draco Malfoy did this!" Harry roared. "He is responsible! Let us track him down! Come on, men!" Harry jumped off the chair and raised his wand above his head in angry mob fashion. Several dozen male voices called out Neanderthal screams and crowded out the door after him, wands also raised.

As they ran out the doors, more Tarzan calls were emitted from the crowd. "I say we kill the beast!"

"You can´t hide from us!"

"To the Slytherin Common Room! To the Common Room!"

"Draco! I am your brother!" The mob stopped dead in its tracks. "What?" asked the boy that was currently the center of attention. "I thought we were shouting cliché lines." There was another moment of silence.

"I say we kill the beast!" The mob took off again. Suddenly, Harry, who was still in the lead, turned a corner and stopped. The crowd pressed forward and surged around him, nearly filling the hallway.

"We´ve found him!" shouted one boy, restating the obvious. In front of a large stone snake was Draco Malfoy dressed, as legend had it, in black leather, a spiked collar, and wearing dog tags. His hair was spiked and messy and he wore heavy black boots.

"Draco Malfoy!" shouted Harry. "We, the males of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry here by accuse you of the use of manipulation and some sick form of the Unforgivable Curse, Imperio." A cry of approval echoed down the hallway. "We shall here by bring you to trial at the Quidditch Pitch in exactly four minutes." Harry glared and Ron stepped up beside him.

"Be there or be square!" Ron shouted. There was, once more, silence. This time, somebody coughed.

"I...I think I´ll choose square," said Draco. Harry buried his face in his hands.

"Just come on," he said, grabbing Draco by the wrist and dragging him back through the hallways. When they got back to the Great Hall, the number of Harry´s followers increased twofold to include a hundred or so females and the afore mentioned males, both the drooling kind and the mob. Many of them wore heavy robes as it was winter and the rest were huddled together for warmth.

"All rise for the Honorable Harry Potter!" called a voice as Harry dragged Draco onto the Quidditch pitch. The rest of the school had crowded into the stands to watch the proceedings.

"Right, right. Everyone shut-up," said Harry. "You know what you´re accused of, Draco. How do you plead?"

"Rrrrf," said Draco.

"Rrrrf?" asked Harry. "Could somebody check the rulebooks? Can he say that?" A drooling Hermione raced onto the field, holding a book in front of her.

"Yes, yes he can!" she called out. Then she held up a quill to Draco. "Can I have you autograph?" she asked, then blushed. "You can sign me anywhere you want!" Harry shuddered.

"Could somebody please get her off the field?" Instantly, three Gryffindor males ran onto the field and dragged her away. "Jeez," muttered Harry. "He´s not that good-looking." A wave of disagreeing noises passed over the field, most of them female, but an alarming number of them male, which is not to say that it was alarming that there were so many males who had infatuations with other males, only to say that our poor Harry may have been a slight homophobe in which case, we can most likely say he is not correct in his views, which is also not to say that people with the same views as Harry are less equal than unbiased humans, but only to say that everyone is entitled to their own views and that the author does not share the same views as our protagonist and would like to make it explicitly clear that these same views do not in any way reflect the views of this piece of writing or the servers of this story. At this point the author would also like to point out that it would probably have been easier to just erase the possibly offending line, but no matter. Back to our story.

"Now," Harry checked a piece of parchment that seemed to have materialized from nowhere, "Mr. Malfoy did you say it was? In your previous response to the question of your guilt, you said something not quite intelligible. Would it trouble you too much to repeat it?"

This time, Malfoy said, "Grrr."

"Grrr?" asked Harry. "Is that a possible response?" A gasp came from where Hermione was being held back on the sidelines. "Never mind, I don´t want to know."

"May I say something?" asked Malfoy suddenly.

"Silence fools!" called Harry to the uproar. "The accused speaketh!"

"I´m hungry," said Draco.

"Would you like a biscuit?" Harry asked, sarcastically.

"No, thank you," said Draco, "I had one this morning."

"Your Honor?" called Ron suddenly. Harry looked up. "We have had a request to remove the defendant of his accessorized outerwear as it may be used as evidence against him." A wave of approval swept across the field. Harry coughed.

"The defendant will still be wearing his clothing," Harry pointed out. An unhappy groan swept the field. "It sounds like a good idea," said Harry. "Do you have any objections?" he asked Draco. In response, Draco ripped off his dog tags and spiked collar and threw them at Harry´s feet.

"Can we just get this over with?" Draco asked. "As much as it happens, I´m still not really comfortable with school wide interrogations and ridicule. Harry sighed.

"Me neither. It gets a little old after awhile." Harry sighed and picked up the dog tags. Suddenly, he gasped. "No!"

"No, wait!" Draco shouted. "I want those back! Give them to me!" He reached out his hand.

"You´re not!" yelled Harry, holding them over his head.

"No! Don´t say it! It´s all a mistake!" said Draco, trying to jump up and get the dog tags and cover Harry´s mouth at the same time.

"It´s too big a secret! I can´t keep it in!" By this point, the crowd had started to get interested and loud calls were emanating from the other students.

"What do they say, Harry?"

"Read them!"

"What is it? We want to know!"

"You wouldn´t dare," hissed Draco, his eyes getting narrow.

"Try me," hissed Harry, equally as venomous.

"What do they say?" called one overeager person. "Tell us the truth, Harry!"

"You can´t handle the truth!" screamed Draco. "None of you can know!"

"Tell us, Harry!" screamed the crowd as one. Harry ran across the field before Draco could realize what happened and leapt up onto the edge of the stands.

"NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!" screamed Draco.

"Tell us!" chanted the crowd.

"They´re rabies tags!" screamed Harry triumphantly. "They´re tags to verify he got his annual rabies shot and his collar is a tracking collar to make sure he doesn´t leave Hogwarts grounds!" There were a few seconds of murmuring as Muggle-born´s explained to the rest of the crowd what that meant. As everyone realized the significance of this statement, the Quidditch pitch went deathly silent. Suddenly, a new voice broke the silence.

"What is going on here?" stated Professor Snape clearly and slowly.

"School wide humiliation," called Draco.

"Carry on then," said Professor Snape. He waved his wand and a bag of popcorn appeared in front of him.

"Actually, we´re just about done," said Harry.

"Aaawww," Snape pouted. "I always miss the fun."

"Well, we´ve still got the sentence," said Harry.

"Oh, boy!" shouted Snape.

"We, the males of this school sentence you to never wear leather, black, or any sort of clothing that may intentionally show muscles anywhere on your body. And...to...uh...be excluded for being different." (Please read previous disclaimers.) Draco shrugged. "Oh, yeah. And you´re sentenced to live your life out with Millicent Bullstrode." Draco´s eyes bulged at this.

"You can´t do this to me!" he screamed.

"We can, and we will!" grinned Harry triumphantly at finding Draco´s weak spot. Draco fell onto the ground sobbing.

"You can´t - please, no!"

"That is a little harsh," said Ron.

"Would you look at Hermione?" Everyone stared at her. She was standing stone still, drool frozen on her cheek like so many other students in the stands. Then, while everyone was staring, a squeal rang out from the crowd and by the time everyone turned their attention back to Draco, he was gone. Well, in the name of accuracy, he wasn´t actually gone. He was just out of sight, underneath a very large pile of person. One person, to be exact.

"Oh, Draco! This is wonderful!" called Millicent, happily. Harry shook his head sadly.

"One more brave warrior for mankind gone down fighting," he said, a little sadly. Then he brightened up. "Well! Time to go inside! It´s almost lunchtime and I am hungry!" He skipped off towards the castle and, shrugging, most of the school followed.

"This sucks, Hermione," said Harry remorsefully. "I hate this more than anything in the world."

"Oh, come, come now, Harry. Pastries aren´t that hard to make."

"Yes, they are! And why don´t we ever make anything useful in this class? Can´t we make anything besides desserts? I want to live heart-trouble free until I turn at least twenty-four."

"Oh, stop griping," said Hermione irritably, removing her wand from underneath her tray of perfectly formed cookies. She set them down on the counter and pulled a book out of her backpack searching furiously for a cooling spell. It was around this time that a very irritable blond Slytherin, of which there weren´t too many, came in. Harry´s jaw dropped open.

"Malfoy? You´re taking cooking?" gasped Harry. Draco glowered at Harry.

"It was the only class in which I was guaranteed not to run into any more students in a mood to make fun of my...condition."

"Of course not," said Harry lightly. "It was the only class in which you could sink your teeth into something besides human flesh."

"Look, Potter," said Draco stepping closer to Harry and raising a fist. Harry cast a distempered look over the Slytherin.

"What´s wrong with you, Malfoy? Wake up on the wrong side of the cage again?" This caught Malfoy entirely by surprise.

"I do not sleep in a cage!" he protested. Harry ignored him and turned back to his cooling tray of cookies. Malfoy grimaced and turned to his own magical oven where a pile of ingredients that he had never before heard of were lying, scattered about the counter top. Malfoy picked one up, obviously having never cooked something before in his life, and squinted thoughtfully, trying to read the print. "Fl-our," he annunciated slowly. He shrugged and poured a good deal into the large mixing bowl before him. Then he picked up a jar labeled vinegar. Shrugging again, he poured that in, too. The next ingredient was baking soda. He flipped open the top and began to sniff it thoughtfully. Reading the name of it, he smiled. "I like soda!" he exclaimed gleefully. "It´s the one good thing that´s come out of Muggle existence!" He opened the top a little wider and slowly began to tip the box.

"What in the Hell do you think you´re doing?!?!" yelled Harry from the other side of the room, making Malfoy stop in mid-pour.

"Honestly, Harry, I´m just trying to fix your horrible mess of dough you call cookies!" yelped back Hermione.

"Not you!" Harry strode over to Malfoy and grabbed the baking soda just before it was poured in with the entire gallon of vinegar. "Do you realize what you could have done to us?" Malfoy grinned.

"Something horrible?"

"No, something amazing, which is why I stopped you," said Harry sarcastically.

"Just get on with your own bloody cookies, Potter," said Malfoy angrily. Harry stormed off, but did not see Malfoy hurriedly shove the rest of the baking soda into his bag, along with another gallon of vinegar.

That night, as Harry and Hermione sat down to supper, a scream rang out through the hallway and Draco Malfoy ran in clothed only in a loincloth and with war paint underneath his eyes and across his chest. In one hand, he carried a bowl of baking soda, and in the other, a bottle of vinegar.

"Students of Hogwarts!" screamed Malfoy. Nobody looked up except for a few of the guys wondering Malfoy´s punishment for encroaching the No-Muscles Act as it was currently being called. "Listen to me!" This time a call came from the back of the Ravenclaw table.

"Oh, bugger off, Malfoy. We´ve had enough of you for today."

"If the court does not revoke the Millicent Bullstrode act, I will mix these ingredients and something drastic will happen, which you will all regret for as long as you shall all live!"

"Go put some clothes on," yelled Harry from the Gryffindor table. Malfoy sneered.

"Disagree with me? I have no choice, but to severely punish you, Potter!" Throwing the bowl down on the Head Table, Malfoy unscrewed the vinegar and poured the whole lot of it into the bowl. He gave one final war cry and ran, screaming, from the Great Hall. There was silence, and then the bowl of baking soda fizzed up and over the sides of the bowl, completely ruining Professor Snape´s treacle tart.

"Malfoy!" yelled Professor Snape. "Detention! And fifty points from Gryffindor!"

"Gryffindor?" Murmurs swept through the Great Hall. "What?" Then all attention went back to Professor Snape. He seemed to be having some sort of mouth problem.

"I mean Sly-sly-slyth-er-Gryffindor. I need to take fifty points from Sly-Sly-Griffindor!" Suddenly he, too, ran out of the Great Hall, screaming, "I need to wash out my mouth!" Professor Dumbledore shrugged and turned back to his own treacle tart. The Great Hall was silent for another moment, and then all returned to how it was before.