Well, you asked me to write you a stupid Harry Potter fanfic. Here you go. This one's for you. Don't know how much sense it'll make to you. About as much sense it made to Harry, I guess.
Harry Potter tentatively entered Professor Snape's classroom. "Professor," he called, closing the door behind him. "You wanted to see me?"
"Yes," Snape drawled, sitting behind his desk. In lieu of it's usual clutter there were many sheets that resembled prints from muggle computers with Snape's tightly cramped scrawl written all over them and about a dozen different multi-sided dice.
Harry waited a moment for an explanation. "Why?"
"Insolent boy," he said, rising from his seat, flickering his cloak dramatically. "I am Severus Snape," he began, "the Potions Master, as you well know I'm sure. But what you don't know, is that I'm also a Dungeon Master."
Harry merely nodded. This made sense, he supposed. His classroom was in the dungeon. He stole a quick glance toward the door.
In the blink of an eye Snape whirled around, his cloak bellowing around him. He flicked out his wand, and pointing it straight at Harry's chest, yelled, "Avada Kedavra!"
But to Harry's astonishment, nothing happened. Glaring at his professor, he yanked out his own wand to curse him.
"Quickly, Potter, make a fortitude save."
"A what?"
Snape picked up a die and threw it at him, annoyed. "Roll that one."
He picked it up slowly, now accepting the scenario that Snape had possibly gone insane. He humored him, and rolled the die, which seemed to have twenty sides.
"A sixteen," Snape muttered, glancing at one of the sheets of paper on his desk. "Plus two. An eighteen."
He rolled the twenty-sided die on the desk. After twirling around incessantly, it landed on a four.
"Drat!" Snape yelled, slamming a fist on the desk. "You win today, Potter. Now get out!"
Harry was gone in an instant.
End