Chapter 23: 23: I Think It's the Era of the Dung Bombs Now

Week Two at Hogwarts... By the second week, the young witches and wizards noticed something strange: Professor Snape's perpetually greasy hair seemed to have become clean. It now looked smooth and silky, transforming the once-grimy, unkempt "greasy bat" into a professor with an unexpectedly pleasant appearance—at least, if one ignored his sour personality, which unfortunately remained unchanged. Another peculiar sight was Argus Filch, who appeared to have dedicated his entire existence to scrubbing the Hogwarts walls. Armed with a brush and wearing a mask over his nose, the beleaguered caretaker was tirelessly trying to scrape off the stubborn filth stuck to the walls. His grumbles of frustration echoed through the corridors. The students, wary of getting any of the muck on their new robes, steered clear of him. "Good afternoon, Mr. Filch. I think you could use some help." Only the kind-hearted Nolan Von Draugr would ever approach Filch with such an offer. Occasionally, Filch, in his desperation, would allow the Slytherin boy to assist him. Unfortunately, Nolan's "help" usually resulted in disasters. His cleaning spells would invariably cause the muck to explode, worsening the situation. "I didn't think it would do that," Nolan said softly, closing his umbrella after yet another mishap. "I suppose my magic could use some improvement." "Clearly..." Miles Bletchley muttered as he wiped a large chunk of filth off his hair. "Next time, make sure to bring an umbrella for me as well." Today, the first-years had their much-anticipated flying lesson. Apart from Defense Against the Dark Arts, flying lessons were perhaps the most exciting class for the young students. After all, who wouldn't enjoy the thrill of defying gravity and soaring freely through the sky? As the Slytherins made their way to the Quidditch pitch, they crossed paths with a group of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students who had just finished their lesson. Among them, Cho Chang's sleek black hair made her particularly noticeable. "Hey, Nolan!" Cho called out cheerfully as she approached him, her voice dreamy. "Oh, Nolan, I have to say, flying feels absolutely amazing! Did you know my childhood dream was to become a professional Seeker? Unfortunately, Professor Hooch told me that first-years aren't allowed to join the Quidditch teams." "That's a shame," Nolan murmured politely. "Why do you look so unenthusiastic?" "Because I think flying around on broomsticks is rather silly," Nolan replied with a sigh. As he spoke, he felt a tug on his sleeve. Glancing down, he saw a tiny hand clutching his robes. It belonged to Eve, who was warily eyeing Cho as if she were a cat caught stealing food in the kitchen. Cho's face fell slightly. "Well, I guess you're not interested in talking about that." She took a few steps forward but then turned back to Nolan with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "If I were you, I'd keep a close eye on him," she said to Eve. "You know, plenty of upper-year girls are after him. That might not be good news for you, especially in a situation like this." With that cryptic remark, Cho joined the departing Ravenclaws, leaving Nolan scratching his head. "What just happened?" Nolan asked Miles, confused. Miles looked equally bewildered. "No idea. But I'd really like to know how to get this muck out of my robes." "Hey, that's easy, mate!" one of the Weasley twins chimed in, appearing out of nowhere. With a flick of his wand, he cast, "Scourgify!" The result was catastrophic. Miles was suddenly engulfed in a pungent, almost visible cloud of odor. Nolan winced and quietly suggested, "Maybe you should take a bath." "Good idea..." Miles muttered, his mood thoroughly ruined as he trudged off to the showers. "Mate! The dung bomb idea was pure genius!" Once Miles had gone, one of the Weasley twins threw an arm around Nolan Von Draugr, while the other chimed in, "You won't believe it—loads of upper-year students are asking us for more dung bombs! They're all eager to see how fun it is to mess with Filch. I think we should team up and turn our brains into galleons and sickles!" Nearby, Gryffindor first-year Alicia Spinnet frowned. "Oh no, you three are going to turn Hogwarts into a giant cesspool!" "Don't worry," one twin said confidently. "Our dear caretaker, Mr. Filch, will take care of it all—it's his job, after all!" "And while he's busy scrubbing walls, we'll sneak into the kitchens and feast on whatever we like!" the other twin added. Nolan nodded, his tone flat but his words sharp. "Good idea. Maybe we can enhance the dung bombs—make them impossible to clean, no matter how hard Filch scrubs." "That's brilliant!" "Mate, we're about to change Hogwarts forever!" The younger Slytherins watched with a mix of dismay and fascination as Nolan bonded with the two troublemaking Gryffindors. Despite their house rivalry, even the Slytherins couldn't deny a morbid curiosity about the upgraded dung bombs. The Slytherins and Gryffindors soon arrived at the Quidditch pitch, where Madam Hooch was waiting for them. On the ground lay an assortment of battered brooms. Nolan eyed them with disdain, lightly kicking one with his toe as if testing to ensure it wouldn't spring to life and bite him. Madam Hooch's sharp eyes zeroed in on him. "Hey! Mr. Von Draugr, stop that! Brooms are for riding, not for kicking!" Nolan replied gloomily, "Where I'm from, brooms are tools used by maids for cleaning. I'm sure Filch would agree with me." Madam Hooch hesitated, momentarily at a loss for words. She quickly recovered, clapping her hands briskly. "Well, perhaps some people do use brooms for cleaning, but that's irrelevant. Flying is an essential skill for every witch and wizard, and I'll ensure you all can mount these brooms without falling off. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff did well this morning. Let's see how Gryffindor and Slytherin fare." She instructed the students to stand beside a broom and extend their hand over it. "Say 'Up!' to command your broom to rise." Nolan muttered the command halfheartedly. His broom remained stubbornly still. Alicia Spinnet's broom wobbled before rolling over on the ground. Miles Bletchley's broom gave a small hop, much like its now freshly washed owner. The Weasley twins fared better—or worse, depending on perspective. Their brooms leapt high into the air and promptly smacked their owners in the face with the handles. "Oh, my goodness! Everyone, look at this!" Madam Hooch exclaimed suddenly. "Slytherin's Miss Eve has done it!" All eyes turned to Eve, who had barely whispered "Up" when her broom shot smoothly into her hand. "How did you do that, Eve?" Miles asked enviously, his voice low. Eve, feeling the weight of everyone's awestruck gazes, blushed slightly. She kept her excitement in check and replied softly, "I don't know... It feels like my broom here is just very well-behaved!"