A/N: All right, I can't take full credit for this loverly story. This is the product of too much spare time in Spanish class and my friend's weird brain (mine too!) So basically, this lovely story came about in a form sort of like a round robin ,but not really. We pretty much each write a few sentences and then pass it to the other person until we finish. So this goes out to Joe, who actually never visits this site, but whatever. He helped me write it. Just so you know, I love Harry Potter. Oh, and if this doesn't make sense to you, too bad, deal with it!

Chapter One: Pickles the Dog with a Liver Problem

Once there was a poor hobo named Pockets. Pockets was a poor hobo, and he ate any children he could find. Pockets wasn't always as pathetic as he was now. He was once incredibly rich for his invention, the juxtapoo, a fun toy for kids. He had a sexy trophy wife named Roxie, and together they had two sexy children. But Pockets had forgotten to read the marriage contract, and his sexy wife divorced him and took all of his money. Poor, poor pockets. But he had his revenge. He ate sexy Roxie and the sexy children with a garlic dipping sauce that was lip smacking good.

Unfortunately, he later realized that his sexy wife had all of the sexy money in her pocket, and so he ended up digesting a wad of thousand dollar bills. Now, he was just a poor fat cannibal hobo. Although very sexy.

He devoted his life to licking bricks outside of Little Tokyo, a hobby which earned him many stares. But he didn't care. Those bricks tasted good!

His only other passion in life was pockets. He never forgave himself for not checking his sexy wife's pockets and because of this went completely insane, spending the little money he had on material to make pockets. He used his own hair as thread. He used his dead sexy wife's bones as needles.

One day he was chewing on a tastyricious piece of gristle, when a widdle cutesy wootsy puppy wandered into his cave. Pockets began planning to dip his wickle tail into marinara sauce. All of a sudden, the puppy hacked and coughed and spewed until he had coughed up a huge wad of money.

"Money!" exclaimed the hobo. "I can buy food! Or better! Pockets!"

Just as suddenly as the money came, it was gone. The puppy choked it back down.

"No!" cried the poor cannibal.

He smacked the money out of the puppy (A/N: we do not in anyway condone violence on animals! Do not smack puppies, money spewing or otherwise!), ran into little Tokyo bookshop and ran straight past the display of his favorite book (101 ways to prepare human flesh), and to the fantasy section.

(A/N: okay, this next part is really stupid and probably won't make much sense, but basically Joe and I have long conversations about what's better, fantasy, or manga. I saw fantasy he says manga, I say fantasy, so whatever.)

Then he ran to the manga section and bought a copy of all the One Piece books they had.

Then he ran back to the fantasy section.

Then he ran to the manga section and bought a copy of every Naruto book they had.

Then he picked up a copy of the Wallflower and beat Joe over the head with it (oops! That's just my subconscious speaking!)

Then he ran back to the manga section, even though he hadn't left yet, and bought all the Fruit Basket books.

Then he realized these books were perfect for dog papers for his new puppy, who he decided to call Pickles.

He bought some Tamora Pierce books. Even better dog papers!

Which is good, because honestly, if a hobo named Pockets started reading female empowerment novels set in the Middle Ages, I might think twice about reading those books.

He had once tried to read a Tamora Pierce book, but his brain exploded.

Proving that Tamora Pierce was simply too complicated for his plain male mind.

Yes, such as the first page with such "hard" words as "me am Tam-tam Peerce."

Anyway he ran back to the fantasy section and picked up a copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander (but not really because it's by J.K. Rowling, but why quibble?)

As he opened the book, a hand came out of nowhere and dragged him into an unknown world.

"Who are you oh strangely dressed man?" said a boy with a funny cut on his head.

"Harry, surely you can tell who this is!" exclaimed a brunette. "He is the great Pocket protector, he of whom the prophecies speak!"

The boy pouted. "I thought I was the one of whom the prophecies speak!"

"You are, but there is more then one prophecy. Anyway, the prophecies say he will answer any question directed to him and it will be true. You just have to ask your question and then say "Oh great and mighty pocket protector!" The only catch is, each person may ask only one question. I think you know what you must ask."

"Yeah! Does Ginny love me oh great and mighty- ow! Fine! Where is the final horcrux oh great and mighty pocket protector?"

"Why are you looking for Whores? Asked Pockets, only he was licking his toes at the time so it came out, "I think it's Hagrid."

"Then we must kill Hagrid!" sobbed the brunette. Pockets thought she would taste good with barbecue sauce.

"What about Hagrid?" said a boy with brilliant red hair and an Elton John T-shirt.

But it was too late to stop the scar boy, as he was already charging toward a large hairy man yelling "Come back! I'll kill you you God damn son of a…" he trailed off as he saw a small first year looking up at him, wide-eyed and he finished somewhat pathetically "…giant"

"Hagrid, can we kill you?" asked Neville, very politely.

"Well, when yeh puh ih thaw ah, I sps ah cahn reahy refoo."

Neville pulled out the sword of Godric Gryffindor and drove it straight into Hagrid's flask of butter beer.

"No! Mah buhah bee! Ih wah Dumbliblablidorible's lah gih tah me! I luh Dumbliblablidorible. Ah grah mah tha Dumbli…" but before he could finish, the scar boy interrupted him.

"Hold it hold it hold it! Everyone is stealing my stuff! First this guy steals my status as the chosen one," he gestured to Pockets, "and then Neville steals my sword! What is with that anyway? And then, Hagrid steals my role as grief/angst ridden teenager! And he's not even a teenager!"

Just then, a small redhead burst out of the castle yelling Avada Kedavra and killing small birds, first years, and other insignificant things.

Pockets looked around saying, "where's me doggy Pickles?"

"I ATE HIM FOR BREAKFAST!" yelled the insane redhead as everyone backed away slowly. "MWAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"No Ginny," said Harry. "I distinctly remember sharing a squirrel with you."

The Brunette broke into tears saying "but Harry, all the H/Hr shippers who want to boycott book seven think we should be together! I don't want to be with Ron! He smells funny!"

"You're forgetting Hermione; you're already dating Mad-Eye Moody. Plus, I'm too busy taking care of my insane sister to date."

Just then, Glenda Fairbanks stumbled out of the lake with what looked like a squid attached to her nose. She spoke "Dweedle,"she said before falling back into the lake.

"'Twas the lady of the lake!" exclaimed an entirely new person, tall, with a wolfish look about him, who would have been really hot in the movie if they hadn't cast a guy who looked like a door to door carpet salesman. "We must follow her word to the letter if we are to find the Green Flame Torch, defeat Voldemort, return Lily, James, Cedric, Sirius, and Dumbledore to life, return Ginny's brain, and cure my werewolfishness so I can marry my true love McGonig- I mean Tonks! Of course! Tonks!"

Professor McGonagall stepped toward the strange man whilst Pockets followed Hermione's instructions on how to dance the hokey pokey. The two began a personal-but-not-really-because-they-were-yelling conversation. "Lupin! Damn it! You're scaring all the first years man! It's totally not groovy man!" (yes, after her grief over Dumbledore's death, McGonagall had decided to embrace the free life, smoke some drugs, wear all tie-dye and generally return to her roots of the 70's. Although really, she was probably born a hundred or so years before that.)

"Okay! Let's work on the Pokey!" exclaimed Hermione. Harry stared at her.

"Ha! I think someone's been stealing from my personal supply of weed!"

"No! Bad Harry! Incendio!" yelled Hermione.

"WTF?" said Ron, but quickly changed the subject as Hermione turned her death glare toward him. "OK, so let's get back to this, umm, Lady of the Lake, umm, thing."

"Lady of the lake? I'll show YOU Lady of the lake!" shouted Hermione as she forced Ron ever closer to the lake.

"We must translate her speech," intoned the man named Lupin, ignoring the two teens about to kill each other. "from its original text in ancient Lagaeltpanifrenglinese, but unfortunately, only Dumbledore could speak that… ancient language."

"hey man! I got a new magical plant" said Neville holding up a conspicuous five leaved item.

"Umm, Neville, do you even know what that is?"

"OMG! A squirrel!" yelled Neville, chasing after a squirell that was really a leaf floating on the lake, causing him to fall into the water.

"Haha!" said McGonagall. "Now he can be the Lady of the Lake!" She stuck her pinky in a bag and sniffed.

"Here Ron! Join him!" Hermione pushed Ron into the lake.

As he climbed out, he said, "Wah! My socksies are all wet!" as he spoke the word, a small creature resembling a raisin on speed, or possibly Yoda, came barreling out of the castle yelling "SoCKKsiEs Mr. Harry Potter sir! soCkSIEs!"

He collided with Harry and began to shake him. "Give me my socksies damn it!" shouted Dobby. Another small Yoda knockoff wearing only a loincloth appeared. "Master is annoying, blah, blah, Mudblood! Blah blah, Aren't I predictable? Blah blah blah, Blood traitors, blah blah, kill the sock wearing freak!"

The two began wrestling, even though Harry had told them not to in book six. "Dobby wants some socksies!" exclaimed Dobby whilst pulling out a gun. "Don't make me do it Mr. Harry Potter sir! Don't make me do it!" he held the gun to his head.

"No Dobby! Put the gun down! We'll talk!" said Harry, sounding frantic.

BLAM

"Oh Damn, forgot to put the friggin bullet in!" Dobby walked toward the castle, dragging the gun dejectedly behind him.

"Pickles!" screamed Pockets.

Everyone looked at him.

"They forgot to put pickles on my Big Mac!"

He looked over to see a body lying in a pool of red liquid.

"Wow, I love to take baths in fruit punch!" said a girl with pink hair, "and now that Lupin loves me, everything is full of sunshine and daisies! Wotcha Hobo!"

"Where Hermy?" Came a voice from the forest. Grawp tripped on a rock and died. Hagrid started crying. Ron laughed and clapped his hands like a two year old.

"Pretty colors!" said Ginny,. Standing, next to McGonagall.

"Mrs. McGonagall, you're a cat. Your drugs are catnip. I know, because houses dranfanglenarglepoos. I was looking for them. You can read about it in this weeks edition of the Quibbler!"

"Moo." Said Pickles. Actually, not really Pickles, just a thestral intent on eating Hagrid.

"Are I in Camelot?" asked the forgotten Pockets, still trying to figure out exactly where he was.

"Speaking of Camelot, can we PLEASE get back to the Lady of the Lake whose magic will help me be normal and live with Mc…Tonks."

"Look!" exclaimed Harry, "a hobo! Plus Lupin, she only said 'Dweedle' and frankly, I don't see how that will help us. At all."

"Top hat!' said Dobby.

"Lord Moldy Shorts!" exclaimed Ron. "I get it now! That's funny!"

"I'm eating Nachos!" yelled Hermione. Ginny stole the nachos.

"To the batmobile!" Yelled a corpse with a ponytail beard rising from a grave marked 'Here Lies Dumbledore'

"Damn! Someone switched Gandolf and Dumbledore again!"

And with that happy thought, the whole Harry Potter gang ran off into the sunset, running over Pockets and Pickles, leaving them twitching on the ground.

THE END! (of chapter one)