Title:  Psychosis

Authoress:  Nez

Amazing-wonderful beta reader: Runnernda- my sounding board and main source of inspiration.  Thank you for everything! 

Pairings:  HP/DM, R/H, G/N, L/S, R/S  

Rating:  PG-13

Disclaimer:  Alas!  I am not J.K. Rowling.  So these characters wouldn't be mine.  Only poor Ford belongs to me, and after this chapter he disappears…

Random comments:  Yay!  ^_^  I'm very excited to finally get this posted- it's been rattling around in my head for the past few months and it's a relief to finally get it all out.  It's rather bizarre, but bizarre is fun!!  I hope you enjoy this!  Comments and criticism welcome.

And now, on to the story…

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

            It all began on a day that was normal enough. 

The sky was clear, spirits were high, and a general complacent surge of goodwill  drifted in nearly tangible waves through the halls.  Students giggled and scurried through sun-washed passages, lugging bags behind them, chattering placidly among themselves.   

It was, in fact, the kind of day that students all over Hogwarts, in several hours, would begin to speak of with longing reminiscence. 

            Yes, it all began on this perfectly normal day, and with a perfectly normal occurrence.   

            It began with something like this…

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

            "What's going on here?" Hermione snapped as she swept towards the group forming in the middle of the hall, her best I-Am-an-Angered-Prefect voice drowned out by the yowls and furious yells coming from the center of the crowd.  Harry and Ron  trailed meekly behind the towering pillar of wrath that was Hermione, half cowed by her state of anger (and reminded violently of Percy) and half curious to see what was going on. 

They waded through the mass of shuffling bodies, pushing their way to the center of the group, which, Harry noticed, consisted mostly of Slytherins and Ravenclaws.  The tussle must be between those houses, then…

He was right.  When they finally made it to the space in the center, they were greeted by the sight of a defiant looking third year Ravenclaw and a furious second year Slytherin.  Harry recognized the Slytherin immediately and cringed; he was constantly stirring up fights, seemingly determined to uproot Malfoy's standing as Most Obnoxious Person Alive.  And he was succeeding.  Judging by the sag in Hermione's shoulders, the exact same thoughts were running through her head. 

Ford Witherspoon was a tiny, scrawny specimen of a child, and had a slight lisp that grew worse when he was angry.  Which he most certainly was now.  His face was beet red, and he was brandishing his wand, obscenities pouring like a flood from his mouth.  It was rather disconcerting, hearing such foul language uttered in Ford's childlike lisp. 

The Ravenclaw was growing increasingly affronted, her own wand trembling in her clenched fist.  The noise level built to a buzzing roar as spectators goaded and taunted the two students, the throng crowding forwards, nearly animalistic in its insistence. 

Hermione was not happy.

"ENOUGH!!!" she roared, face scarlet, her prefect badge authoritatively glittering in the sunlight, "WHAT IS GOING ON HERE???"

The entire group fell deathly silent, and all eyes turning to fix on the fuming, curly haired prefect.  Ignoring them, she stalked forwards, her shoes clicking sharply on the floor.  She towered over the two students, snapping "What is going on?"

Immediately, shouts and yelled accusations flooded back into the hall, hands gesturing every which way in a wave of flailing limbs and angry faces.  Before Hermione could attempt to restore order, the trembling Ravenclaw girl shrieked, "It's all HIS fault, the filthy little git!"

This was a mistake. 

Ford's face, which had been twisted in rage before, now morphed into mask of seething fury.  "NO ONE CALLTH ME A GIT, YOU THLIMY MUDBLOOD!!!!!!" he roared, eyes sparking dangerously as he launched himself at her, wand outstretched.

Everyone immediately ducked.  Ford was notorious for his bad aim when it came to casting spells.  With a squeak, the Ravenclaw girl dived to the side as his wand flared violet.

"CATHUTH INCANTUM!!!" he bellowed, swinging his wand wildly through the air.  An intense violet burst of light jetted from his wand… and missed.  It shot straight past the girl and over the heads of several crouched students. 

And that was when it happened.

It took a second for everyone to figure out what had happened; all they had seen was a blast of violet exploding from Ford's wand, trailing streaks of fiery mauve in its wake as it tore through the hall, and then suddenly a billow of tumbling black robes filled the end of the corridor, accompanied by a muffled roar of shock.

Hermione's mouth dropped open as she quickly rose to her feet, hastily making her way down the hall.  "Professor Snape?" she asked nervously, her hand fluttering worriedly to her mouth as her footsteps pattered quickly across the stone floor, "Are you all right?"

The rest trailed behind her, hesitant to get too near to Snape.  The potions master was sprawled out over the floor, his face strangely vacant, pale face tilted emptily towards the ceiling.  He didn't respond to Hermione's tentative inquiry.

Ron, surprisingly enough, was the first the approach him, sidestepping the scuffle that was Harry latching onto a fleeing Ford's collar. 

"Is he dead?"  Ron's voice was half hopeful, half horrified as he crouched over his teacher's prone form, a flicker of concern washing over his suddenly pale face as he leaned down to take his pulse.  "Oh.  He's still ali-"

Snape suddenly convulsed harshly, his body jerking off from the floor as if it had been thrown.  With a yell of shock, Ron stumbled back into Hermione, who could only stare, open mouthed, something akin to realization dawning over her face.  Still staring at Snape, she fumbled to help Ron to his feet, intently watching her professor's face, as if she was waiting for something…

She didn't have to wait long.  Snape's face, previously expressionless to the extent that he seemed to be carved from stone, suddenly contorted, a myriad of emotions washing over his sallow face.  His skin seemed nearly translucent, clear as a sheet of ice, a flush of anger and horror flooding beneath its surface.  But slowly, this abrupt show of emotion began to fade, as if it was being shoved forcefully away from the surface, and in its place crept an inexplicable, dazed smile.

And still, his body twitched as if his robes were filled with flobberworms, limbs flailing uselessly. 

Harry gaped in horror, wholly disconcerted, still clutching onto Ford's collar, not knowing what to make of the situation. 

Oh, Merlin.  We need to get him some help!

He was about to turn and sprint towards the hospital wing, but before he could make a move, Hermione seemed to guess his intentions, and grabbed his arm, hissing, "Wait."

Harry stared at her.  Her face was twisted into a rather restrained expression, as if she was trying to stop herself from… laughing.

Harry was about to flood her in a burst of What-are-you-talking-abouts, when the sound of tearing cloth suddenly filled the hall, immediately snapping everyone's attention back to Snape.  His body arched off the ground, his face still fixed in that bemused smile, and tatters of black rags fluttered like clumsy birds from his back.  Harry felt his insides turn to ice as a swollen bulge appeared between Snape's shoulder blades, pushing steadily outwards as cloth continued to strain and rip. 

Hermione was the first to see it.  Immediately, her hand flew up to clamp over her mouth, an expression of horrified hysteria struggling over her face.  And then, with a final, resounding tear, Snape's curse was visible to the entire hall.

First one wing tentatively unfurled- then the other.  Two pink, filmy wings hesitantly stretched toward the ceiling, capturing the light that poured into the hall and reflecting it back in a blinding shimmer of glitter.

Snape had sprouted a pair of pink, sparkly wings.

Harry let out a noise something akin to a strangled squeak.  This had to be an illusion.  Snape… with wings??  Snape with PINK wings??  No… no… even in the world of magic, such a thing couldn't be possible… Dizzy with confusion, he closed his eyes, rubbed them furiously, opened them again, and stared.  Still there.  Snape was still standing in the middle of the hall, pink wings nearly as large as he was… and he was… waving a sparkly pink wand through the air???

A stupefied silence filled the hall, all eyes disbelievingly turned to the… thing that couldn't be Snape that was beaming down at them, tittering to himself.

"Well!"  Fifteen students jerked backwards as the high pitched, giggling voice assaulted their ears.  "Don't all of you look charming today!"  He pinched Ron's cheek, who immediately turned a violent shade of green and looked as if he was about to reintroduce to the world what he had eaten that morning.  "It's a beautiful day, isn't it?" he-who-was-not-Snape continued in that same girlish voice, "I was just saying to myself, 'Snapey, dear, it's a gorgeous day!  Go outside and enjoy it!'  And you know, I think I will!  I'm going to go outside and talk to the flowers!  Hee hee!  Any one want to come with me?"

Without waiting for and answer, Snape sashayed down the hall, giggling to himself, only stopping once to preen in a mirror he happened to pass.  After blowing his reflection a kiss, he took to the air, and fluttered pinkly out of sight, leaving a ringing silence behind him.

There was a dull thud as Ron fainted.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

            "Witherspoon turned Snape into a WHAT??"  Ron sat bolt upright in his bed in the infirmary, having just recently been revived.  Now, he gaped openly at Hermione, brown eyes huge with disbelief.

            Hermione flushed embarrassedly from the scrutiny she was being subjected to (Harry was pinning her with a similarly horrified look), and repeated, "A fairy.  Fairy godmother, of sorts."

            Ron and Harry goggled a few seconds more, disbelieving, before collapsing into a fit of hysteria.  They gasped with laughter, spasms of mirth piercing painfully into their sides, but they couldn't stop; all they could see was the memory of Snape, fluttering through the air, large, sparkling wings glittering as he soared away.

            Hermione scowled at first, trying to look disapproving, but soon it was too much for even her to take; the muscles at the side of her mouth twitched, and laughter swelled up in her chest like a balloon.  She finally burst out in a fit of uncontrollable giggles, her eyes tearing up as she clutched her sides, nearly doubled over with laughter.  Between spasms of mirth, she managed to gasp, "We really… ha!  Sh-shouldn't be… ha ha… oh, Ron, stop making those faces!!  Be laughing… ha!!  But really!  Snape, a fairy!"

            After the laughter had died down a bit, Ron (still clutching weakly at his sides) asked rather breathlessly, "But why?  Why would that little idiot try to turn anyone into a fairy?  It sounds more like something an angry Hufflepuff would do."

            "I don't think he meant to," replied Hermione, wiping her eyes, "Remember, Ford has a lisp.  I'm pretty sure he was trying to say 'Casus Incantum,' which would have turned Sara into an oversized newt."

            "A newt, really," laughed Ron, brown eyes glinting mischievously, "Why not a ferret?"

            Hermione whacked him reprovingly on the arm, but couldn't repress a smile of amusement at his words.

            Harry snorted before turning back to Hermione, a perplexed frown flitting over his face as he asked, "But why is Snape so… well… how do I put this?"

"Freakishly hyper?" Ron inserted helpfully.

"Exactly.  Aren't fairy godmothers supposed to be more…  I don't know… motherly?"

            Hermione shrugged, pushing her hair out of her face.  "Ford is only a second year; it's astounding that he was able to perform such a difficult spell at all, especially when he wasn't intending to.  It's very possible that he could have performed the spell incorrectly… Oh!"  Suddenly, she sat upright with a start, her eyes lighting up as a flash of remembrance sparked in the fringes of her mind.  "Wait!" she said, breathlessly, "I think I remember reading about one instance when Cathuth Incantum was performed incorrectly… I'm relatively sure the subject went temporarily insane and formed a growing obsession with fairytales, and insisted on surrounding himself with the subjects of fables for the month in which he was enchanted."

            Harry stared.  That could not be a good thing.  Images of himself scurrying around in pigtails and a red cloak filled his mind, and he cringed in horror.  He was about to voice his not-so-pleasant thoughts when suddenly he was interrupted by resounding crash that exploded from the room at the end of the infirmary. 

            Ron, nearly shooting straight out of his bed in shock, latched on to Hermione's arm and stared at the door, which still shaking and rattling from the impact of the blow.  "What was that??"

            "I don't know… but that was the room they locked Snape in, so it can't be good," Hermione replied, rather distractedly.  She could feel the warmth of Ron's hand seeping into her skin, and her face suddenly felt flushed and an odd sensation stirred in her chest as she tried to pry his fingers from her arm.  But he wasn't paying attention- both his attention and Harry's were focused on Snape's door.

            BANG!!!

Harry lurched backwards, yelling in shock as the door at the end of the infirmary suddenly exploded outwards, the wooden boards delivering an earsplitting crack on the stone wall as hinges screeched in complaint.  He gave a sharp cry of astonishment, eyes nearly bugging out of his head as three little pigs, dressed in overalls, scurried frantically out of the room on their hind legs, squealing as if their tails were on fire.  Their beady little black eyes were filled with horror, and the bumped and stumbled over each other, struggling to get out of the infirmary.  Maniacal laughter stabbed the air as Snape's cackling voice trailed after them: "Watch out for wolvsies, dears!!  Mwahaha!  Ah, fairytales are beautiful things…"

            As they tottered away, Harry heard one squeal angrily in a voice sounding uncannily like Professor McGonagall's, "We are going to find Witherspoon.  NOW."

            "But, Minerva…" a second pig snorted in a rumbling voice that would have shown distinct similarities to Madam Pomfrey's had it not been so pig-like, "We're going to be like this until the spell wears off, which won't be for another month!!  We can't enforce authority like this!!"

            The squeal of their voices and the clatter of their hooves slowly faded into the distance, leaving Harry, Ron, and Hermione in a state of paralyzed trauma.  They stared at each other, unable to absorb what they had just seen, opening and closing their mouths like fish out of water.

            "That was…"

            "McGonagall."

            "And…"

            "Pomfrey…"

            "The third was…?"

            "Hagrid, maybe?"

            "He was larger than the other two…"

            "And he had a beard…"

            "Oh, Merlin.  Oh, MERLIN.  Our teachers are…"

            "PIGS.  Our teachers are PIGS!!!!"

            "Correction- they're the Three Little Pigs, from the fable."

            "Fable?  What's a fable?"

            "A muggle thing, Ron."

            "Oh, no!  How am I supposed to hand in my Transfiguration essay if my teacher is a pig??"   

            Harry and Ron had turned to stare incredulously at Hermione and were about to speak when suddenly, a dark, looming shadow fell silently over them, and a current of wind gently fanned their hair.               

They froze.  Their eyes mirrored each other's horror, mouths falling open as dismayed realization gradually edged into the fringes of their minds.  Slowly, almost afraid of what they would see, they looked upwards.  And there he hovered, sparkly wings and all, Professor Snape.

"Hello, children," he crooned, greasy hair falling over his sallow face as he leered down at them, pitch black eyes reflecting shadows of something not quite right swimming darkly beneath the surface. "Now, what shall I do with you?"

Harry gave a strangled squeak of horror, and his hand immediately shot towards his wand, but before he could do anything, he was suffused in a roar of blinding white light.  The floor dissolved from beneath his feet as the spell pressed suffocatingly in on him, seeping thickly through his skin, the acrid tang of fairy magic coating his tongue, overwhelming him and making him light-headed.  Black spots began to swim in his vision as he felt the magic overtake him; it was too much for him to take… A flood of darkness rushed through him and he fell into the welcome embrace of oblivion.

~*~*~*~*~

Melodrama is good.  ^_^   Ahaha!  (Me?  Drama queen?  Nooo…) 

Fairytales That Appear in this Chapter:

            *The Three Little Pigs

Thanks for reading chapter 1!  Hopefully, the second chapter will be up soon.  Meanwhile... succumb to your deep craving desire to send me a review!  ^_^  It would be most appreciated. 

Have a nice day!