Hello People! I was recently reminiscing over how much I love Monty Python, and I've been working on a few Harry Potter crossovers for a while. This just sort of happened while I was thinking of how to continue my actual stuff.

If you are a fan of Monty Python and Harry Potter this may be for you. If you are not, I'm not sure why you clicked on this story, as it clearly says in the title and description what this is about. Silly people.

See if you can spot the various scenes I've used in here! I have a few more for various years, so if I get a decent response I'll try to make it through Deathly Hallows and maybe BEYOND.

This is definitely a crack type fic, so ALL of the characters will be majorly OOC.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Harry Potter or Monty Python. I just think that they are amazing examples of British awesomeness, and makes me proud to be part of the Commonwealth. Don't let my Welsh dad know. See what you tea-chucking Americans are missing out on? Sheesh :P

Warnings: Extreme, violent silliness. Not recommended for people with sticks up their - OIFJiorhua *sorry, keeping the rating T!

Enjoy!

Harry Potter was a very strange boy. He was hyper-aware of his strangeness, because his Aunt and Uncle reminded him of it every day. He didn't try to be strange, and he wasn't quite sure what made him strange – all he knew was that he was strange, and always had been. His parents had apparently been strange as well, so he was able to console himself with the idea that the strangeness was hereditary. When he pursued that line of thought, however, and asked his Aunt if she was also strange, he'd gotten the telling off of his life, and so resolved to keep his strange theories on strangeness to himself.

Being constantly told that he was strange and freakish had an odd effect on Harry's outlook on life; he figured that since he was strange anyway, he was in no way accountable for his actions. He blamed it on the strangeness. So when his teachers reprimanded him for doodling, or his Aunt and Uncle railed on about his lazy ways and messy hair, he just shrugged it off and held the strangeness responsible. It got to be rather annoying, however, with people telling him off all the time, and assigning him chores, so he started seeking methods of escape after school and during summer. If some of them were a bit odd – well, he was strange, so there was no problem.

He tried loitering around the park, but he found that he couldn't remain there for too many hours or else concerned parents would be wanting to see him home, and a confrontation with the Durlseys was the last thing he needed. So he started hanging around old Mrs. Figg's place, helping her with her excessive amount of cats and being fed slightly stale food. This was nice, and Mrs. Figg was also a bit strange, so Harry felt that he may finally be fitting in. Only – he really didn't like the cats all that much, and he wasn't sure if he was at all enamoured with the particular brand of strangeness that Mrs. Figg exhibited. No, he would have to look for something else.

At a loss, he turned to one of the last places a child could frequent without drawing undue attention: the library. He managed to stay there for hours; one of the old librarians took a delight in feeding him lunch, and they would share her sandwiches while she railed on about how wonderful it was to see a child with a proper love of books. Harry would nod politely and greedily consume his meal – while the Dursleys didn't starve him, they seemed to think there was an inverse relationship to how much they fed him and how much strangeness he exhibited. The sandwiches were a true blessing.

One of the volunteers, a girl from the local high school, finally got fed up with Harry sitting there everyday, docilely reading a book. She took him to a section that he hadn't been in before that was full of videocassettes, selected one of them, and dragged him by the arm to a back room. The room had a small television set, which she set him down in front of. She told him that he was far too serious, and she was going to put a smile on his face.

Harry was rather alarmed – he was only seven, but there had been a police officer in school that had given them warnings about adults who said such things. However, this girl was still in school herself, so Harry settled down to watch the film with good grace.

He was confused at first, when he saw the misty outline of what may have been a tree, and heard a faint 'clop-clopping' sound. As a man in mail armour trotted – literally – into the frame, Harry's eyes widened in delight. This was undoubtably strange, and perhaps, just perhaps, it would be a strangeness that he could adhere to.

The young boy, who had been previously adrift in an undefined world of strangeness, had found his niche with the men who argued about the migration of coconuts.

0000oooo000

Harry was being chased by Dudley and his gang for being strange when it happened. An insanely large owl swooped down out of the sky towards the group of ten and eleven-year-olds. For whatever reason, all of Dudley's friends were terrified of birds, and they turned tail and ran, leaving Dudley and Harry to deal with the owl by themselves.

The owl released a heavy parchment just as it neared the boys, and it sliced through the air somewhat like one of those Japanese ninja stars, Harry thought, before striking Dudley in the stomach. It actually wasn't very hard to miss said target, as it was very large, but Harry had to admire the force behind the envelope; it had momentarily disappeared into a fold of fat before popping out again at a much-reduced velocity.

"Well taken, Con – er – Dudders!" Harry said cheerfully.

Dudley, who had been the one most subjected to Harry's conversion to Pythonism, just sort of went with it. He picked on Harry because his friends seemed to like it, and his parents approved. If he didn't organize the bullying of Harry, it was likely that he would be made fun of for his excessive weight, so a system had worked out between them. Dudley would go along with Harry's quotations, and Harry would allow his friends to chase him. Vernon was proud, Petunia was happy, and the cousins managed to live with each other.

"Thanks, Harry," Dudley wheezed, "letter for you?" The heavy parchment envelope lay innocently between them, hiding the dangerous projectile it could turn into. Harry ignored it for the time being, and kneeled down dramatically next to Dudley.

"Con – damn! – Dudley! Dudley, speak to me!" line out of the way, Harry plucked up the envelope and slit it open.

Dear Mr Potter, he read out loud, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Term begins on September 1st at Hogwarts Castle.

There was a few other things mentioned in the letter, but he was trying to stay within the parameters of the scene. He leapt up and gazed off into the middle-distance.

"At last!" he cried, "at last, a call, a cry of – er – strangeness and – ah – magic! This could be the sign that leads us – er, me, that is – to ... to ... away from here!" he finished lamely. He turned back to Dudley. "Brave, brave Dudders! You shall not have died in vain!" Here Dudley looked confused. He could never quite keep up with Harry when he got like this.

"Uh, I'm – I'm not quite dead, Harry," he said uncertainly. Harry grinned at his unwitting completion of the line.

"Well, you shall not have been mortally wounded in vain!" He cried dramatically.

Dudley wondered briefly what 'mortally wounded' meant before saying, "Look, Harry, it's not that bad – I'll probably be fine ..." he trailed off as Harry looked disappointed. He didn't know that it was only a partly-affected expression.

"Oh, I see," he said.

"Yeah," Dudley shifted, "yeah, I think I'll head home now, Harry. Mum said she'd have cake ready and -" he was cut off by Harry, who was very displeased as he couldn't see how he could complete the scene properly. Sometime things just didn't work out as you planned them.

"Yeah, fine, Dudders," he said, "I'll go off and do something brave and heroic etcetera etcetera, I'll pretend you stayed there, and actually know the word idiom..." he walked off, muttering to himself and clutching the letter for further perusal. Dudley stared after him for a moment, then waddled home. His mother made the best chocolate cakes.

Days later, when Hagrid burst down the front door to pick up Harry on his birthday, Dudley calmly kept eating his breakfast while his mother screeched and his father bellowed. Honestly, he thought, rolling his eyes, Harry has had way sillier things happen to him than have a giant come to pick him up.

0000oooo000

Hermione Granger loved books. She loved learning, and she loved the feeling she got when she knew the answer to something. She didn't have many friends, because all the children she went to school with were rather – well – childish. Her parents were amazing dentists, and had ingrained a deep respect for the rules into Hermione. So, she was perhaps slightly overzealous with her attachment to the rules and to knowledge, making others view her as a bossy know-it-all.

What many didn't know, was that when her parents were busy with their practice, and Hermione was finished with school, her cousin would visit to take care of her. Her cousin was had just finished his A levels, and had a younger sister who was still in high school whom Hermione rarely got to see because she volunteered in a library. And her cousin always brought with him tapes of Monty Python.

Hermione had very quickly come to appreciate pure silliness, and was horrified at the prospect that someone may find out. So she nursed a love of Monty Python and watched all of the movies, television shows, and random skits associated with it, totally unbeknownst to her parents.

So it was that when Professor McGonagall showed up at the door to inform her that she was a witch, Hermione unconsciously put on her best Connie Booth voice and loudly proclaimed,

"I'm not a witch!" and subconsciously waited for the rest of the scene to play out.

Her parents, who did not watch Monty Python, smiled at their daughter's down-to-earth manner, and Professor McGonagall smiled and turned the teapot into a cat.

Hermione felt quite derailed.

She had almost given up all hope of finding a niche of silliness when she and her parents and Professor McGonagall got caught up in a mob at the Leaky Cauldron. There was a giant of a man pressed up against the bar, and she could barely see a head of black hair hiding behind the considerable girth. The patrons of the bar were all shouting, trying to be heard over each other.

"Bless my soul, it's Harry Potter!"

"Welcome back, Mr Potter, welcome back!"

"Darling, it's the Boy-Who-Lived, look – look!"

Trying to get away from the press of people, a small boy clambered onto the bar. He looked quite terrified, Hermione noticed.

A little girls voice drifted over all the others.

"Mum, is that the Saviour? Mum, is he?"

The boy looked quite alarmed, and yelled, "Hey!"

A man from the back yelled, "Quiet! The Boy-Who-Lived is going to speak!"

A hush fell over the pub. Hermione worked her way over to the bar. The black haired boy drew himself up, and with a quirk of his lips proclaimed: "I'm not the Mes – er – the Boy-Who-Lived!"

There was a very loud silence. Then the little girl's voice piped up again.

"Yes you are! You're our Saviour!"

Hermione had suppressed this part of herself for a good portion of her life. She had played the part of the rule-abiding know-it-all, and look where that had gotten her. No friends, and grades so good that almost no one would believe them. On this day, when she was entering a new world, it was maybe time to unleash another Hermione Granger. One that indulged in silliness. She adopted a quavery voice and yelled, "He's not the Saviour! He's a very naughty boy!"

The boy in question met her eyes, and they both grinned silly grins at each other. While the crowd broke out into a confused babble, the pair exited to the courtyard, where a firm friendship was formed.

0000oooo000

Harry was dumped unceremoniously at Kings cross station by his fearful relatives. He was rather early, so he made his way towards platforms nine and ten not worrying too much about getting the right train. Having a platform 9 3/4 sounded rather silly and strange, so he should be able to find it without a problem. Indeed, he was able to observe a large family of red-headed people disappear through what looked like a solid brick wall, which wasn't at all normal. He supposed that he had found what he was looking for. The mother and little girl went through first, then the rather stuffy looking eldest boy followed them. Harry felt a spark of strangeness welling up inside of him, and decided to go with the flow. He stepped in front of the remaining red-heads – a set of twins and their younger brother. He took up a stance in front of the wall, and looked at them with a blank expression.

The twins had possibly seen the spark of silliness in his eyes, for they hung back with amused grins. The younger was oblivious, and approached Harry, eyeing his scar.

"Blimey, mate, are you Harry Potter? You killed You-Know-Who when you were a baby!"

Harry remained silent, blinking at the boy. The red-head looked puzzled for a moment, then stated assertively, "I am Ron, Ron Weasley." There was a pause, where Harry said nothing and the twins looked amused. Ron, Ron Weasley cleared his throat and continued. "I'm going with my brothers to Hogwarts, I'll be a first year." There was another long pause, where Harry was obviously expected to say something. Ron looked slightly frustrated, but tried one last time. "You seem like a pretty cool bloke, do you want to sit with me on the train?" Again, Harry said nothing, and the boy looked almost crestfallen. "Oh well," he said, "C'mon, you two," he gestured at the twins, then stepped forward to go through the barrier. Finally, Harry spoke up.

"None shall pass." Ron Weasley looked confused at the words, and with the booming voice Harry had used.

"What?" he asked articulately.

"None shall pass," Harry repeated. Ron frowned at him.

"Mate, we don't want to fight you, but we've gotta get on the platform!" he said in an aggrieved tone.

"Then," Harry said with a ringing voice, "you shall die."

Behind Ron, the twins were cracking up. Ron's face turned red and he yelled, "Oi! Just because you're Harry Potter doesn't mean you can say that to us! Move!" Harry was having a hard time keeping his face straight, but he managed to get out one last line.

"I move for no ... boy."

Ron looked absolutely livid. "Fine!" he yelled, and lunged toward Harry, arms outstretched. Swiftly, Harry moved aside, and Ron disappeared through the barrier. As soon as he was gone, the twins were on the ground, howling with laughter.

"Mate!" one of them said, "that was brilliant!"

"Absolutely inspired!" the other joined in.

"Thanks!" Harry beamed. "Um, just wondering, but could you maybe help me out with this whole train thing? I was raised by muggles ..." he trailed off, allowing the twins to draw their own conclusions.

"Brilliant!" they said in chorus, and they shoved Ron's abandoned trolley through, before following it with Harry sandwiched between them. They introduced themselves and Fred and George, then George and Fred, then got him situated in a compartment, and he thanked them heartily, addressing them as John and Bob. They left him, delighted with their new names.

Harry settled back on the seat cushions, very content with the strangeness going on around him.

0000oooo000

Harry Potter was very strange and silly, and he was also very powerful. Power calls to power, and so as the train made its way north to Hogwarts, Harry's power reached out to the great node of magic that the castle was situated on. There is also a great power in belief, and Harry firmly believed in the strange and silly things he had seen displayed by the Monty Python troupe.

The magic of Hogwarts picked up on that power, and was momentarily confused. This was unprecedented! There was nothing in wizarding memory so – silly! Cautiously, Hogwarts explored the magic of the muggle-borns. Quite a few of them seemed to have ideas that resonated with the Boy-Who-Lived. If magic could shrug, then Hogwarts did. It was getting rather tired of reflecting Dumbledore's obsession with candy, in any case. It studied the power of Harry's convictions, and started the process of mimicking them...

0000oooo000

When Harry got up to go to the loo, he saw a large commotion outside of a compartment. It was a mass of children with green and blue striped robes, and they were hassling someone who looked very much like Hermione. Harry squinted through his thick glasses and realized with alarm that it was Hermione. He moved forward to observe what was going on.

The children had between them a scared-looking boy clutching a toad. Hermione was standing at his side, looking disapproving.

"He's a squib! A squib! We've got a squib!" the crowd screamed out.

"We've found a squib! We should hex it!" said one pale and sickly looking boy.

Hermione caught Harry's eye, and smirked, before drawing herself up and adopting and authoritative air. She addressed the crowd.

"How do you know he is a squib?" she inquired imperiously.

"He looks like one?" said a girl, gesturing at the boy's frightened and lost expression.

"Bring him forward," Hermione said with a negligent wave of her hand.

The boy was placed before her, and he was shaking and scared. Despite this, he managed to look in her eye and stammer out, "I'm – I'm not a squib. I'm not a squib!"

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, and looked him over. She pursed her lips and said, "But your name tag says you are."

Everyone looked at the boy's chest, and indeed, there was a cheery name tag that read 'Hello! My name is SQUIB'. The boy made an 'eep' sort of sound, and looked around wildly.

"They put that on me!" he wailed.

All at once, all the children said, "No, we didn't ... no."

The boy spoke again, trying to look confident.

"And look, I've got a toad," he fumbled around for it, before stooping and picking it up – it had been making a break for freedom – "and a wand..." he trailed off, brandishing his wand in one hand and his toad in the other.

Hermione glanced at the objects, before turning to the crowd of children.

"Well?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

The pale boy from before spoke up, "Well, we did do the name tag."

"The name tag?"

"Yes. But he is a squib!"

The children started chanting, "Hex him! Hex him! Hex him!" and the boy accused of being a squib looked terrified.

Hermione looked exasperated.

"Did you all just decide that he was a squib?" she asked curiously.

The children shifted, and several made to answer.

"No, no ... no ... yes"

"Yes, yes, a bit."

"A bit..."

"What makes you think that he's a squib?" Hermione asked, not understanding what was going on.

"He can't do magic!" one of the more impassioned children claimed.

"Yeah! Hex him! Hex him!" the children demanded.

Hermione yelled out over the commotion. She was handling this wonderfully, Harry thought.

"Quiet, quiet. Quiet! There are ways of telling whether someone is a witch or wizard!" She told them in a knowledgable tone.

"Are there?" one girl asked curiously. "What are they?"

Harry grinned. Hermione caught his eye, and looked smug. She would have to do this carefully...

"What," she asked, "do muggles do to witches?" The children looked stumped for a moment, trying to remember what their parents had told them about the dangers of muggles.

"Burn them?" Ventured a dark-skinned boy. The rest of the children nodded. Hermione nodded as well.

"And what do people burn normally?"

"Erm – muggles?"

"Wood!"

Hermione caught up that answer.

"So, why do witches – and wizards – burn?" she asked the enraptured crowd. The twins had joined the edges, and were grinning crazily at the scene unfolding before them.

A girl with a face like a pug squashed it up even more in thought.

"Be...cause we're made of ... wood?" She asked in confusion.

Before anyone could contest the silly statement, Hermione crowed, "Good!" and patted the girl on the head. The rest of the children were nodding to themselves, while Harry and the twins grinned. Hermione continued.

"So, how do we tell whether he," she pointed at the nervous boy, "is made of wood?"

"Make a wand out of him?" one child ventured.

"Ah, but don't wands have other things in them?" Hermione asked, heading off that train of thought. The crowd seemed as one to glance at their wands, before nodding. Hermione decided to prod them in the right direction.

"Does wood sink in water?"

"No. No it doesn't" was the general reply.

"We could throw him in the lake when we get to Hogwarts..." suggested a second-year. People started to look enthusiastic about that, so Hermione quickly asked,

"What also floats in water?"

The replies were perfect, Harry thought in amazed wonder.

"Bread!"

"Apples!"

"Very small rocks!"

"Butterbeer!"

"Lead – lead!"

"A duck." Harry cut across the confused suggestions, making his answer a statement. The twins were beaming at him.

There was a collective 'ooooh' from the crowd, that the twins may or may not have instigated. Hermione grinned at Harry, and said "Exactly! So, logically..." she trailed off leadingly.

The pug faced girl seemed to be working it through. With Hermione's encouraging nods, she said, "If ... he ... weighs the same as a duck, he's made of wood."

"And therefor?"

"A wizard!" The students yelled as one.

Hermione strode up and grabbed each twin by an ear. "We shall use these two to determine the weight!" She declared. A duck was produced out of nowhere, and was thrust into the arms of a confused twin. The squib boy was scooped up bridal style by the other twin. The crowd seemed to hold its breath for a moment while the twins gazed into each others' eyes, before they turned and declared in unison, "they're the same!"

"He's a wizard!" the crowd screamed, rejoicing. They soon dispersed, and Hermione and Harry were left with the twins and the unfortunate boy, who was still in the arms of one of the red-heads. The duck and the toad were getting acquainted somewhere near Harry's legs.

Harry smiled at Hermione, who said "You're pretty wise in the ways of ... magic, Harry,"

"I'm Harry Potter," Harry shrugged modestly.

"Thank you, Harry Potter!" gasped the unnamed boy. "I'm Neville Longbottom!" he fell out of Fred's – or was it George's – arms in order to thank his saviours.

"No problem, Neville," Harry said cheerfully, leaning forward to peel of the SQUIB sticker. "What do you guys say to being my friends at Hogwarts?"

The smiles he saw on the faces before him were all the answers he needed.

0000oooo000

The wise Sir Hermione was the first to join Harry's friends, but other illustrious names were soon to follow. Sir Gred, the Humourous; Sir Forge the Hysterical; and Sir Neville the Not-very-brave who had been nearly proclaimed a squib, and who enjoyed gardening and tea time very much, and who had personally wet himself at the prospect of flying a broom when he was seven; and the aptly named Sir Luna-who-won't-be-along-'till-second-year. Together they formed a band that would soon make the Wizarding World tremble at their silliness.

0000oooo000

Harry and Hermione, and newcomers to the Wizarding World, were understandably ignorant as to the confections offered there. They were actually not personally familiar with candy in general, as Hermione's parents were dentists, and Harry was only allowed to watch Dudley eat candy, never consume it himself. The twins decided that they needed a crash course in Wizarding candy, and they never noticed the wave of silly magic that was working on them as they spent more and more time with Harry. They shoved numerous packaged of candy into the first years' hands, not excluding Neville (his grandmother was very strict and didn't allow him such frivolities as sweeties) and allowed them to inspect the various products.

Finally, Harry looked up, a gleam in his eye.

"You two approve of these ... Wizard candies?" he asked in an official tone.

"We do," the twins replied in unison.

Hermione piped up, "Superintendent Harry and I are concerned with the hygiene. We want to have a word with you about the quality of these assorted Wizard treats."

"Ah," said a twin.

"Yes," said the other.

Hermione continued, "If I may begin at the beginning. First there are the Bertie Bott's Every-Flavoured Beans.Some of these are extremely nasty, but we can't prosecute, as they do say 'every flavour'.

The twins nodded sagely. Harry took up the thread of the conversation.

"Next we have these 'Chocolate Frogs," he began, "am I right in thinking there's a real frog in here?"

George honestly wanted to say that it was just a spell. Which was the truth. But silly magic had begun working in its silly ways, and he heard himself saying, "Yes. A little one." Fred looked at him, surprised, but then grinned and figured they'd go along with the joke.

"What sort of frog," Hermione asked narrowly.
"A dead one," Fred promptly replied.

"Is it cooked?" Neville asked hesitantly. He was taking his time with getting swept up in the silly magic. The twins replied in the negative. Here, Hermione looked shocked.

"What, a raw frog?" She exclaimed. Neville was looking increasingly queasy. George began to get really into the scene, finding the words just rolled off of his tongue. Harry was delighted.

"We use only the finest baby frogs, dew picked and flown from Iraq, cleansed in finest quality spring water, lightly killed, and then sealed in a succulent Swiss quintuple smooth treble cream milk chocolate envelope and lovingly frosted with glucose," he said with certainty. Hermione looked severe.

"That's as may be, it's still a frog," she said.

"What else?" Fred asked in an affronted tone.

"Well don't you even take the bones out?" She asked incredulously.

George protested swiftly, "If we took the bones out it wouldn't be crunchy would it?"

Hermione squinted at the twins. "I'm pretty sure Neville ate one of those," she said.

Neville turned green. "Excuse me a moment," he moaned, and left hurriedly.

Fred looked at Hermione and said in a cool voice, "It says 'Chocolate Frog' quite clearly."

Hermione sighed in exasperation. "People won't expect there to be a frog in there. They're bound to think it's some form of mock frog," she explained patiently.

George put on a very offended tone when he said, "Mock frog? We use no artificial preservatives or additives of any kind!"

Hermione swept on, "Nevertheless, I must warn you that in future you should delete the words 'Chocolate Frog', and replace them with the legend 'Chocolate-covered Raw Unboned Real Dead Frog', if you want to avoid prosecution."

At that point Neville re-entered the compartment, and the five of them stared at each other for a few moments before bursting into laughter.

"That was brilliant!" one of the twins crowed. "Excellent stuff!"

"Yeah," Harry grinned, munching on a liquorish wand, "it worked out perfectly didn't it? Good job, everyone." He gave Hermione a pleased look, which had her preening.

A sudden choked noise came from Neville, who was munching on Bertie Bott's Beans. He turned green, and got up hastily.

"Spew, I reckon," he said in a horrified voice, and lurched out of the compartment.

The remaining students blinked at each other for a time, then collapsed in helpless laughter, surrounded by Wizard candy.

0000oooo000

Hagrid collected the first years off of the train, and led them down a forest trail. It was a very dark trail, and Neville cowered in between Harry and Hermione. Harry noticed this, and suddenly broke into song:

Bravely bold Neville, walked towards Hogwaaarts!

He was not afraid to die, Oh bra-ave Neville!

He was not at all afraid to be killed in nasty ways!

Brave, brave, brave, bra-ave Neville!

The rest of the first years started shifting uneasily, glancing dubiously at Harry. Neville looked petrified, and Hermione, not wanting to miss out, sang the next verse:

He was not in the least bit scared to be cursed into a pulp,

Or to have his eyes hexed out, and his ha-ands broken!

To have his wa-and split, and his magic burned away,

And his limbs all hacked and mangled bra-ave Neville!

Here the first years were looking positively terrified, and were walking quickly, trying to keep up with Hagrid and get away from the trio simultaneously. Neville looked as though he were about to faint. Hermione and Harry started singing together:

His trunk smashed in and his robes cut up

And his cauldron exploded – his vials all gone

And his to-oad dead and his spellbooks burned up

And his -

Here they were cut off by Hagrid's booming voice as they rounded a corner.

"Look 'ere, kids, now you'll get your first sigh' o'" he gestured grandly as a castle appeared through the trees, "Hogwarts!"

It was a lovely castle; a dark silhouette in the night sky, up on a hill across a glassy lake. There were warm yellow lights coming from the windows. As one, the first years 'ooooh'd in delight.

"Hogwarts," sighed a pig-tailed girl with starry eyes.

"Hogwarts!" shouted an excited Ron, Ron Weasley.

"Hogwarts," drawled a pale-haired boy with a pointy face.

"It's only a model," Harry muttered in a stage-whisper.

Hermione stifled a giggle as Hagrid began to direct the children into boats.

"Shh!" she said. "Wizards," she addressed Harry, Neville, and the pale-haired boy who had joined them in their boat, "I bid you welcome to your new home. Let us ... sail ... to Hogwarts!"

AN: So? Please review and tell me what you think! If I get stuck on my other fics (blatant hint to check them out nudgenugde winkwink) I might want to do more with this. Any feedback is appreciated! I just thought it would be funny :D