Yellow Dye Number 5
By TwinEnigma
General Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any characters therein. I can and do mock them and use them in fanfics, purely for my own amusement.
Codes: Parody, Crack, OOC, Humor
Random Fact: This fic is so named for a dye that never appears in anything yellow.
Harry was lurking in dungeons of Hogwarts, feeling sorry for himself and generally whining about his lot in life as he did every Tuesday. He wanted to cut himself, but being as he only desired attention and was adverse to pain, he merely theatrically smeared his arms with thin lines of ketchup from those little packets you get at fast food places. It had dried and was starting to itch, but he was not yet done feeling sorry for himself, so he ignored it and continued wallowing in despair on the floor.
The door slammed open and Snape stormed in – he was incapable of entering a dungeon in any other fashion, you see – and proceeded to ignore Harry in favor of the bizarre appearance of a mysterious rectangular box, otherwise known as a microwave. Said microwave was resting innocently on the desk, surrounded by a strange white powdery substance.
Harry, of course, had no idea how the microwave had got there or why someone had emptied three boxes of powdered non-dairy creamer all over it, but he was too busy being mad that Snape was not paying attention to his self-inflicted ketchup wounds to explain to his erstwhile professor that he knew exactly what the mysterious substance covering the microwave was. Not that he understood the nature of non-dairy creamer in the slightest, but he had at least been able to see the packages from his position on the floor.
Naturally, Snape had to stick his nose into things and sniffed the strange white powdery substance in an attempt to discern its nature with his powerful olfactory senses. Unfortunately, this brought particles of the non-dairy creamer in contact with Snape's magic and activated the latent unnatural power of the non-dairy creamer, resulting in the creation of a rift in time and space from which a most strange and curious being emerged and promptly took both of them hostage.
It seems the inauspicious combination of magic, microwaves and non-dairy creamer had inadvertently summoned an ill-tempered Goth, complete with swords and aggressive pillaging tendencies. Clad entirely in leather armor and animal pelts and wearing the bones of animals as jewelry, said Goth certainly was hard to miss as she herded her captive audience ahead of her. It also helped that she smelled strongly of blood, sweat and goat urine and happened to like shouting at them in her guttural archaic demi-Germanic native tongue like a crazed giant.
Now, about this time, Dumbledore had the strange sensation that something utterly humiliating was occurring to a member of the student body and, quite naturally, he investigated. He just senses these things, you see, and follows them to their most humiliating end so as to provide evasive pseudo-wisdom to the unwitting and off-guard. Passing a shrieking female Draco Malfoy being chased by a giant Panda in Slytherin robes and fifteen Hufflepuffs doing a chorus-line in their knickers, the aging headmaster finally happened upon our erstwhile dynamic duo of Harry and Snape and their Goth captor.
"Ah! This must be our new transfer student from America," Dumbledore said. He knew full well there were no such transfer students ever, but between Snape and Harry's collective belligerent childish behavior, he was quite put out with them and decided this was a fitting punishment. "And how are you enjoying your stay so far, my dear?"
The Goth shrieked, waved her sword in a threatening manner and grabbed Snape by the hair to emphasize her point.
"Splendid, splendid," Dumbledore said, turning around and walking off. "Carry on, then."
The Goth stared after him in bewilderment, shrugged and clobbered Snape over the head, seeing as he was a rather useless hostage. Harry chose this moment to attempt to run and instead ended up flat on his stomach, with the armed, smelly barbarian on his back. She shouted at him some more and the proceeded to drag him towards the Great Hall, probably unaware that the doors did not in fact lead outside the castle.
Female Draco ran by, doing a fair impression of the Home Alone kid, Peeves stampeded cattle through the second floor corridor, Ginny used the distraction to sneak in character development steroids, and Ron was cozying up to Hermione's breasts, unaware that she was just as interested in female Draco as he was. And life at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry continued on as usual.
It came as no surprise that over the next several weeks, the more socially inclined students had come to notice the strange and oddly clothed 'American transfer student' using Harry as her personal shield/bargaining chip. Logic told them that she must be a very important and socially to-do person to be accepted mid-year with no questions and that her leather armor and pelts must be the new 'in' fashion in the Americas, while her guttural proto-Germanic ravings and threats were some form of new hip lingo. Not ones to be left behind their American social competition, they immediately seized on the crazy new trend of leather armor, animal pelts, swords, growling rage and hostage accessories.
Had anyone actually been able to speak archaic proto-German, the Goth would have pointed out that she was desperate to get away from these strange, clearly stark raving mad sorcerer-children and back to her tribe, since the gods had clearly cursed them all.
AN: The only kind of Goth I ever want to see in my Hogwarts is the sword-bearing Germanic kind.