ahahaha I'm so evil. Soooo evil. Not really, but we can all dream.

Basic idea, I had none, so I did this:) Enjoy!

Here we go.

Disclaimer: I own you, little evil minion children! Bow down at my small yet minutely powerful greatness! HOWEVER, I don't own Harry Potter. Whether I own JK Rowling is in dispute. I've got minions in high places;) Or maybe just high minions. Same thing.

Summer School is for Prats

The dark-haired boy sprawled out on the bed had what looked like a permanant grimace on his long face. His hair was pushed away at odd ends from his face, forced back temporarily by the countless times he'd ran his hand through it in the last hour. The boy, as we all presume is Harry, sighed loudly, interrupting the etched pain on his face for a moment. The sigh turned into a scowl, and the scowl a groan until the boy just buried his face completely in a pillow. For a moment, the notion of leaving the pillow where it was appealed to Harry.

"Ready for summer school, Crack Pot?"

Harry flung his pillow down, face now burning with lidded rage. The fat, looming, albino-haired blob at the doorway to his room grinned in a rather cannibalish way. Hedwig could be heard rattling the bars on the far walls of her cage, hooting nervously. Harry, however, sat up straight, keeping his back faced rather unwisely towards Dudley. Hedwig hooted again, this time in worry for his friend - it seemed to the owl that Dudley's looming implied a meal, and she was afraid it might be Harry. "I'm not going," Harry snarled, face wirthing in the near-darkness of the night. The rising moon spilled some light into the room, but not over Harry's face; thankfully. Dudley's two-expression face frowned slightly. "What are you, a vampire?" Face paling visably, Dudley suddenly began fumbling for the light-switch in the hallway. Another thing Harry didn't control - his own bedroom lights. A loud sigh came from the fat boy as the lights clicked on, and a fan began to whirr overhead. Harry could almost hear his mind thinking slowly, Not a vampire. Vampires are bad. Wizards are bad. Harry is a dweeb. "Turn that off Dudley," If Harry's tone spoke volumes, his face wrote novels. Dudley just sneered. "Can't hex me, Potter. Know you can't." He sneered again, sounding undefeatedly snug, proud of himself even. "You're not even seventeen yet." Dudley had done that research all by himself, and he wasn't slow to flaunt it to Harry. "Would you like to test that theory, Duds?" asked Harry in a pleasant voice, then turned his head slightly, so Dudley could see his cold eyes. Dudley glared, then flicked off the light. "Mum's waking us up at 6; I'm driving." Harry's eyes widened quite visably. Dudley could be heard thumping off down the hallway, snickering at his own humor as he went.

Slowly, Harry swung to his feet, closed the door mehcanically, then errupted suddenly into a series of freak hollers. It took less than a minute for these to die down - though various screams from around the house made him want to continue, and much louder - and Harry was soon flinging himself down onto his writing desk. In a furious hurry he produced a small jar of ink (disguised in a small yougurt container), a quill, and a parchment.

Ron.

he scribbled madly, hardly thinking as he went.

How many times have I told you that I hate my life? 3? 4? 5 maybe? Those were all for fairly meritable reasons, right? Death, blood-shed, prophecy; typical life-hating material. Well, screw that. Yeah, screw it. Nothing can compare to what's just happened.

Picturing Ron's eyes widening in horror, Harry quickly got to the point.

I'm going to summer school. I don't have much time to explain, so you'll have to ask your father for details. I'm afriad this may be the only letter I'll be able to write for a long while. 2 weeks, actually. The story behind all this is terribly groutesque, but I'm telling you anyways.

Harry took a deep breath before continuing.

Last week, the Dursley's had a family over - some teacher of Dudley's or something, wanted to rub up on him, I figure. Dobby didn't start a food fight, if that's what you're wondering. Much worse. I was introduced. Don't ask how, don't ask why, I just was. Turns out Duddlikin's didn't do so well in math last year, so he's going to summer school to get a mark average better than 40. For English, too. And Science. And think there was something about a 22 average in History. The only class he didn't fail was gym, and that was only because he threatened to break his teacher's arm.

Harry snickered before continuing again.

Basic idea was that the guy - we're talking about the summer school professor, no the gym teacher - liked me, and decided I would be a "good influence" on Duds. Vernon ate it up. You should've seen the look in his eyes when the teacher cornered me. I didn't get a chance to protest. Honest, Ron. And now...

I'm enrolled for two weeks at a muggle school.

Two weeks.

Weeks.

14 days.

Tell Hermione that I'll never forget her for being there for me, and send your family my love.

Goodbye Ron.

P.S If Hermione even LOOKS like she's going to call this a learning experience, hex her for me.

P.P.S I'm still going to Hogwarts, you pinhead. I'm not really dying... Save me a spot on the train, I'll catch up with you.

Harry glanced up at the clock on the wall, ticking ever so slowly. He inhaled deeply, then sealed up the parchment and sent it off with Hedwig. The end was near.