attackfish

In which the part of Severus Snape will be played by Daffy Duck, or possibly the other way around.

This is blatantly ripped off this cartoon from 1951.

Disclaimer: I'm not affiliated with Warner Brothers, J.K. Rowling, or any other assorted individuals who own some claim to either the cartoon or the Harry Potter universe.

You’re Despicable

Severus sighed contentedly over a boiling cauldron. He hated teaching, he hated students, and most of all eh hated Potter, but he liked brewing at least, and alone in the lab, after the students and his fellow professors had gone to sleep, nothing would disturb that pleasurable occupation

In the still room, he began to hear a faint uneven clicking. Abruptly the simmering potion disappeared, and with it, the lab around him. Surrounded on all sides with empty white, accompanied only by his cauldron, floating in the blankness, and containing one mangled stuffed bear, Severus turned his face to the presumed above.

“I would like to voice a request to the author that this book not be transformed into a minimalist art form,” he tried not to snarl, “and that my laboratory, stocked with all appropriate supplies, be returned at once.”

The clicking resumed, unsteadily signaling the return of stone walls and Hogwarts, though as Severus gazed around, he discovered himself in the kitchens, crowded amongst chattering house elves. “Thank you,” he hissed at the ceiling as the house elves shook their heads at his peculiarity, “for at least returning me to the proper dimensions and address. I suppose it’s too much to ask that you return me to my lab.”

The clicking, which had fallen silent as he spoke, again echoed through the chamber as he touched the doorknob. Undaunted, he thrust the door open-

Only to find himself in the entry hall of number 12 Grimaud place, confronting an irate portrait of his school days nemesis. Franticly, he sprinted from room to room, and thereby entering Flourish and Blots, the World cup quidditch stadium’s top box, and Molly and Author Weasley’s bedroom. Growling, he yanked the door out of that room open, and stepped once again into blankness.

“This novel was written in time honored fashion with location!” raged Severus, “please return to this useful consistency!”

Slowly, the clicking muted and reluctant, his dungeon sanctuary returned, but washed free of color and even shade, like a mystifyingly accurate line art. He waved his hand impatiently. “Could you add some color?”

The clicking took on a furious speed. Severus looked down to see that his robes had become a sort of neon green and pink plaid and his hands and feet had become spotted in a plethora of incompatible hues. “The room,” he snarled low in his throat. Abruptly the dungeon regained its proper shades, and he disappeared.

Severus might have glared if he had a face. “And I am where?” The clicking sped faster and faster as he reappeared and meandered through the room. Everything felt taller, higher up as he grabbed his ladle, clutching it, about to continue brewing, when he caught site of his hand, which was not a hand, but a vine. “Do you find this amusing?” he cried, scampering into a nearby toilet to see himself in the mirror. In the cracked and filthy glass, he saw that he had been transformed into a massive nose walking on devil’s snare vines. He spoke again, unsure of how he managed to do so without a mouth. “I insist that I be returned to my proper form immediately, and that I not be harassed any more.”

Welcome clicking returned him to his normal appearance, but a sharp tug at one of his ankles informed him he wouldn’t escape without further indignity. Suspended upside down from his ankle in a familiar way, Severus asked only “Is that all?”

Sitting back from the computer keyboard, Sirius Black smiled at the screen, and remarked pleased, “Ain’t I a stinker?”