An April Fool's fic
I was reading the comments on one of copperbadge's posts, and was inspired by juniper200's comment about the Marauder's greatest prank.
It was quiet in Minerva McGonagall’s chambers. Not the dead quiet which comes during the first hours of the day or the sleepy quiet of nighttime when everything in the castle was settling down for a night’s rest, but the singular quiet of predawn, when the world was just waking up and the calls of the early-rising birds made the quiet seen more profound instead of shattering it.
Usually, it was Professor Minerva McGonagall’s favorite part of the day, a time when she could reflect on the coming day and prepare herself to deal with a castle-full of students who seemed to have made a secret pact to drive their teachers insane before the end of term.
Today, however, the professor’s comforting morning routine was nowhere to be found. Instead, she sat in her night robe staring in horror at the small calendar on her desk, two thoughts repeating themselves in her head.
April First. Dear, sweet Merlin.
Five years ago, the idea that it was the first of April would not have bothered her one tiny bit. She would have dealt with the April Fool’s pranks of the few students either brave or stupid enough to try with a scathing glare that she had created solely for such occasions. And that would be that.
That had been before James Potter and Sirius black came to Hogwarts. Before they’d pulled together their merry little band.
Before they had become the terrors of Hogwarts.
And no day was worse than April Fool’s Day, a day devoted to pranks and trickery. Potter and Black seemed to think the day had been created especially for them, and they made the best use they possibly could out of every second of it.
Minerva still shuddered to think of the foursome’s first year, the year that everyone had been unprepared for. For a week beforehand, the boys had been constantly in the library, always with their head bent close together, stifling giggles every few minutes. It should have tipped them off, but it hadn’t. She remembered now, with a sense of horror, breakfast on Potter and Black’s first April Fool’s Day. It was an absolute madhouse, with students changing colors faster than Roy’s Ridiculous Rainbow Ice Cream, Slytherins growing strange appendages or Medusa-style hair, and several teachers speaking in limerick.
The day had only gotten worse from there. It seemed like every door in the school had been booby-trapped with something, and even when she thought that at least the classroom doors had been cleared, they sprouted new, worse traps. That day, she had taught classes where half of the students had beaks instead of mouths or noodles instead of hair, and that one poor boy who grew flowers all over his hands.
Lunch in the Great Hall was a nightmare. The pranks which had started small became larger, more elaborate. People found themselves welded together at the hip. Some of the older students started singing love poetry to members of the same sex. The Slytherins had to eat standing, because their benches were stuck upside-down to the floor, and the Hufflepuff Quidditch team found itself performing a lively jig, complete with traditional costume.
By dinner, everyone’s nerves were shot. The teachers were frazzled from a day of rushing around, trying to fix everyone. Four Ravenclaws had been driven from the Library in tears after several books either refused to let themselves be picked up or screamed Quidditch scores at anyone who tried to read them, and Lucius Malfoy had destroyed at least two statues after they goosed him.
The Slytherins had gotten their benches fixed, but that was the only improvement, because the House tables had all been charmed with neon versions of the House colors. That might have been bearable, but the ceiling of the Great Hall had been changed so that plaid clouds drifted across a lurid, purple-and-red paisley sky.
To call that first April Fool’s day a nightmare would be an understatement, but each year the pranks got worse, more inventive, and even more diabolically hidden.
Now, in the soothing light of pre-dawn, Minerva McGonagall braced herself for the worst.
* * *
It never came.
There was nothing at breakfast. Minerva watched the students looking warily around to see who the first victim would be with a rising sense of alarm. She was ready. She had reversal spells on the tip of her tongue. Why weren’t the pranks starting?!
At each of her classes that morning, Minerva watched as students hesitated outside the door and then jumped in as fast as they could. And still nothing happened. Lunchtime passed with more of the same, and by dinner everyone was glancing over their shoulders and jumping at sudden noises.
By the time curfew rolled around, all of the teachers were strung so tightly that they would probably vibrate if plucked. Minerva thought that her shoulders might be tense enough to bounce a sickle off of. It took a calming draught and a hot bath before she thought she might possibly get some sleep.
An hour after curfew, right as Minerva was turning back the covers on her bed; there was a knock at her door. Suddenly, it was as if her bath and the calming draught had never happened. Wire-tense, with as light a tread as she might have managed as a cat, Minerva tiptoed over to her door. Her fingers trembled as she turned the knob and pushed the door open an inch. She leapt back, expecting some spell to be activated. After a full minute of waiting, wand clutched in her hand, Minerva eased the door further open and peered down the empty hallway in both directions. Nothing.
She was about to close the door and take another calming draught when she caught sight of something on the floor next to her doorway. She blinked and rubbed her eyes in disbelief. When she opened them, the bouquet was still there. Carefully, she prodded the innocent-looking flowers with her wand, leaning back in case of an explosion, but there was nothing. Finally, she picked up the pretty bouquet, and realized that there was a small card attached. As she read it, a tic started in the corner of her mouth.
Staring up at her, in cheerful, loopy handwriting, was a message:
Happy April Fool’s Day, Professor!
It was quiet in Minerva McGonagall’s chambers. Not the dead quiet which comes during the first hours of the day or the sleepy quiet of nighttime when everything in the castle was settling down for a night’s rest, but the singular quiet of predawn, when the world was just waking up and the calls of the early-rising birds made the quiet seen more profound instead of shattering it.
Usually, it was Professor Minerva McGonagall’s favorite part of the day, a time when she could reflect on the coming day and prepare herself to deal with a castle-full of students who seemed to have made a secret pact to drive their teachers insane before the end of term.
Today, however, the professor’s comforting morning routine was nowhere to be found. Instead, she sat in her night robe staring in horror at the small calendar on her desk, two thoughts repeating themselves in her head.
April First. Dear, sweet Merlin.
Five years ago, the idea that it was the first of April would not have bothered her one tiny bit. She would have dealt with the April Fool’s pranks of the few students either brave or stupid enough to try with a scathing glare that she had created solely for such occasions. And that would be that.
That had been before James Potter and Sirius black came to Hogwarts. Before they’d pulled together their merry little band.
Before they had become the terrors of Hogwarts.
And no day was worse than April Fool’s Day, a day devoted to pranks and trickery. Potter and Black seemed to think the day had been created especially for them, and they made the best use they possibly could out of every second of it.
Minerva still shuddered to think of the foursome’s first year, the year that everyone had been unprepared for. For a week beforehand, the boys had been constantly in the library, always with their head bent close together, stifling giggles every few minutes. It should have tipped them off, but it hadn’t. She remembered now, with a sense of horror, breakfast on Potter and Black’s first April Fool’s Day. It was an absolute madhouse, with students changing colors faster than Roy’s Ridiculous Rainbow Ice Cream, Slytherins growing strange appendages or Medusa-style hair, and several teachers speaking in limerick.
The day had only gotten worse from there. It seemed like every door in the school had been booby-trapped with something, and even when she thought that at least the classroom doors had been cleared, they sprouted new, worse traps. That day, she had taught classes where half of the students had beaks instead of mouths or noodles instead of hair, and that one poor boy who grew flowers all over his hands.
Lunch in the Great Hall was a nightmare. The pranks which had started small became larger, more elaborate. People found themselves welded together at the hip. Some of the older students started singing love poetry to members of the same sex. The Slytherins had to eat standing, because their benches were stuck upside-down to the floor, and the Hufflepuff Quidditch team found itself performing a lively jig, complete with traditional costume.
By dinner, everyone’s nerves were shot. The teachers were frazzled from a day of rushing around, trying to fix everyone. Four Ravenclaws had been driven from the Library in tears after several books either refused to let themselves be picked up or screamed Quidditch scores at anyone who tried to read them, and Lucius Malfoy had destroyed at least two statues after they goosed him.
The Slytherins had gotten their benches fixed, but that was the only improvement, because the House tables had all been charmed with neon versions of the House colors. That might have been bearable, but the ceiling of the Great Hall had been changed so that plaid clouds drifted across a lurid, purple-and-red paisley sky.
To call that first April Fool’s day a nightmare would be an understatement, but each year the pranks got worse, more inventive, and even more diabolically hidden.
Now, in the soothing light of pre-dawn, Minerva McGonagall braced herself for the worst.
* * *
It never came.
There was nothing at breakfast. Minerva watched the students looking warily around to see who the first victim would be with a rising sense of alarm. She was ready. She had reversal spells on the tip of her tongue. Why weren’t the pranks starting?!
At each of her classes that morning, Minerva watched as students hesitated outside the door and then jumped in as fast as they could. And still nothing happened. Lunchtime passed with more of the same, and by dinner everyone was glancing over their shoulders and jumping at sudden noises.
By the time curfew rolled around, all of the teachers were strung so tightly that they would probably vibrate if plucked. Minerva thought that her shoulders might be tense enough to bounce a sickle off of. It took a calming draught and a hot bath before she thought she might possibly get some sleep.
An hour after curfew, right as Minerva was turning back the covers on her bed; there was a knock at her door. Suddenly, it was as if her bath and the calming draught had never happened. Wire-tense, with as light a tread as she might have managed as a cat, Minerva tiptoed over to her door. Her fingers trembled as she turned the knob and pushed the door open an inch. She leapt back, expecting some spell to be activated. After a full minute of waiting, wand clutched in her hand, Minerva eased the door further open and peered down the empty hallway in both directions. Nothing.
She was about to close the door and take another calming draught when she caught sight of something on the floor next to her doorway. She blinked and rubbed her eyes in disbelief. When she opened them, the bouquet was still there. Carefully, she prodded the innocent-looking flowers with her wand, leaning back in case of an explosion, but there was nothing. Finally, she picked up the pretty bouquet, and realized that there was a small card attached. As she read it, a tic started in the corner of her mouth.
Staring up at her, in cheerful, loopy handwriting, was a message:
Happy April Fool’s Day, Professor!