This fic was written for toothlessbean's Humor Competition. Y'alls should go sign up.
This story is supposed to caricature the running themes of a few stereotypical fanfictions, and to name just a few: Hagrid's terribly written accent, Harry getting extreme martial arts training, and odd couples (starring Argus Filch). I'd like to make it clear that this story is only supposed to poke gentle fun. There are certainly excellent fanfics featuring odd couples, Ron-bashing, and a swearing Dumbledore. There are also a lot of terrible ones. So if you have a problem with it, PM me and we'll fight it out like civilized fanfictioners.
Hagrid tapped the bricks with his umbrella then stood back wordlessly. Harry gazed at the long, mysterious streets full of bustling witches and wizards, a sight utterly unfamiliar to his Muggle-raised eyes.
"Well, you don't get this on Privet Drive."
Hagrid looked a bit disappointed by his reaction. "Wh' don' oo sghu trinhka sla?"
"Well, Hagrid, I'm not overly impressed because I have gazed upon the endless Rainbow Waterfalls of Shanghai, meditated for three years on Mount Fuji, and endured Chinese Water torture while lying on a bed of nails and having bamboo shoots slowly driven under my fingernails. So, this is small riceballs compared to my extreme martial arts training, which I am already proficient in despite being only eleven. The only thing that would really impress me is the Dragon Scroll, which would enable me to finally complete my training."
"Yo' duib mtrailiasdf aretsss?"
"Yes, I did martial arts. It seems to be a prominent feature of twenty-five percent of fanfictions that I travel to Asia and learn the ways of the ninja. So that raises a question: why go through the whole umbrella rigmarole when you could have just done this?" Harry lifted a foot, went Hiyah! and reduced the whole brick wall into Diagon Alley to dust. Unfortunately the sheer power of his awesomeness also demolished the Leaky Cauldron.
"Wasdo;adhf, thweoire goasetrejkb tha' Itwrpaibaalkbaieelll St:astiohw o' Swoeibcuooby," said Hagrid.
"What's the International Statute of Secrecy?" inquired Harry.
Meanwhile, the teenage girl sitting at her computer giggled. "I am so good at writing Hagrid's accent!"
o0o
Harry watched from the Gryffindor table, where he had recently been Sorted into, as Dumbledore gave an emotional welcoming speech.
"Yeah, yeah, welcome back, all you little – ," he griped. Fortunately the last word was obliterated by Hagrid crushing his chair and swearing in a hitherto undiscovered language.
"I'm sure you all had very nice little summers, went all over the world and probably ate cupcakes all day. Meanwhile, the rest of us teachers were hard at work. Doing things like preparing dismally depressing classes and stocking secret basements with threeheaded dogs and maneating plants and a totally secret thing called the Philosopher's Stone that you aren't allowed to know about that's protected by traps that are totally impossible to get through unless you're an eleven year old with extensive martial arts training. Like, the traps are REALLY HARD. Also, on our lunch breaks some of us had our hearts broken by a certain Squib janitor." Dumbledore stared longingly at Argus Filch, fluttering his eyelashes and sighing. Argus flipped a gang sign and sauntered out.
"Hai y'all, Dumbledore, Argus's itty bitty lil' cowboy heart is just thrummin' its lil' guitar strings for me!" said Hagrid.
"Shut up!" squealed Dumbledore. "He's mine!" The Great Hall started placing bets as Dumbledore and Hagrid got into a slap fight.
"OTP," sighed the teenage girl blissfully.
o0o
Harry and Ron were late for class.
They had been pretend fighting with their wands ("Dude! They're totally lightsabers!") which had come to a thrilling finale when Harry used the move Gastrointestinal Enlightenment of the Praying Mantis to throw him out of Gryffindor Tower. Ron was currently limping alongside him, interspersing his questions about lightsabers with moans of agony.
"Lightsabers are from Star Wars," explained Harry.
"What's Star Wars?"
"It's a movie."
"What's a movie?"
"It's like a picture that moves. You know, with actors and actresses."
"Oh." Ron was silent with awe at this brilliant Muggle witchcraft.
All of a sudden, Hermione Granger came bursting out of a broom closet directly in front of them. Her hair was disheveled and robes rumpled. She skidded to a halt when she saw them.
"Hermione?" Harry frowned. "Why aren't you in class?"
"I could ask you the same!" she spat. Behind her, Argus Filch did a slick moonwalk out of the broom cupboard.
Harry and Ron gasped. "You and Filch were in the broom cupboard!"
"I – what – no!"
"You were, it's simple math," said Harry gleefully.
"What's math?" asked Ron. The other two looked at him slowly. Early Wizarding education, as it turned out, did not cover unimportant things like math or how to read. It only covered magic (which they didn't teach to children either because of the rules against underage magic. In fact, early Wizarding education taught nothing but how to pick your nose).
JK Rowling felt a ghostly prickling on the back of her neck and experienced an uneasy feeling in the bottom of her stomach. "Dear?"
"Yes," her husband answered.
"I think there may be a deficiency in the basic logic of that book series I wrote, you know, Harry Potter? I just realized children from Wizarding families know absolutely nothing."
"Mm?"
"I think I may have to write the whole thing over again."
o0o
"Do you think there's something weird about Quirrell?" whispered Harry to Ron as they walked across the courtyard, forcibly ignoring Hermione's pitiful attempts to be friends.
"He's the only teacher Filch hasn't seduced in this entire school," replied Ron.
"Exactly. Obviously there's something wrong with him. Maybe he's got a hidden conjoined twin or something...On his stomach...upper back..."
"Back of his head," suggested Ron. "That would explain the weird turban."
"Ron, how dare you criticize Middle Eastern culture! That is politically incorrect and just plain rude. That's not it. But there's something. And I intend to find out what."
Just then, Hagrid appeared. "Hej, kion vi estas tri ĝis?"
"Nothing."
"Nu, ĉar vi demandis, mi estas tute feliĉa por diri al vi la tutan intrigon de via unua jaro, kaj kiel mi atingis trinkis kaj rakontis al la sekreton de Hogwart arieruloj al fiaspektaj fremdulo."
"Why would we want to know everything you can but shouldn't tell us, or hear about how you got hammered and told the secrets of Hogwarts' defences to a complete and evil looking stranger?" questioned Harry. "That doesn't sound useful at all. And there's not three of us, there's two of us and Filch's reject." Hermione started to sob.
Hagrid humphed.
Harry and Ron resumed walking. "Anyways, maybe Quirrell's got a medical condition or something."
"What's 'medical'?"
Harry strode up to where Ron and Hermione sat. All three had recently become good friends after being, in quick succession, flirted with, compromised, and then cast aside by Filch. Heartbreak was like a painful superglue in terms of friends: it was messy, binding, and annoying.
"I'm starting to get this feeling that Snape doesn't like me," Harry said.
"Oh Harry, why on earth would you think that?"
"Well, he glares at me a lot, picks on me in class, made me drink a poisonous potion, wrote rude things in all my schoolbooks, and pointed out my basic facial flaws to the entire class," explained Harry. "Also, my spidey senses are tingling."
"Oh now that's a load of pish posh," said Hermione. "Snape is a teacher and so he is elevated above the pettiness of us mere mortals. I'm sure that's all in your head."
"If you're doubtful, you could always challenge him to a duel," said Ron.
Harry perked up. "Yes! I will destroy him with my super awesome ninja skills!" He ran off to find Snape to challenge him.
"Um, Harry, mate, it's supposed to be a magical duel..." Ron sighed as Harry disappeared.
"Oh well. I'm sure it will be entertaining anyways."
"This isn't a gladiator fight," said Hermione in concern.
"What's a gladiator?"
"It's a fighter in ancient Roman history."
"What's history?"
o0o
Harry and Severus Snape glared at each other from across the Dueling Room as awed students and teachers looked on.
"Understand, Potter, that I do not wish to do this," said Snape, cold as ice.
"I do," said Harry.
"Okay, I was lying, I really really do, you little – " The last word was drowned out by Hagrid sitting down and accidentally punching a hole through the floor with his gigantic weight, then free falling into the empty space underneath.
"But for the sake of your dear departed mother, who I was hopelessly in love with, I will spare at least your eyes," Snape allowed.
Harry frowned. "Hey, you just gave away the major plot twist for book seven! We're still in book one!"
"You're also the master of the Elder Wand."
"Stop!"
"And Argus Filch and I are entering a prenup."
"Eugh!" To the side, Argus Filch gave one long, slow wink at Severus, then mouthed something. Snape gasped.
"What do you mean, it's over?" He started to cry. "Love...so fleeting.'
"Because you have filthied my ears with revolting information, I will destroy you!" roared Harry. Snape laughed madly as tears poured down his cheeks.
"You don't even have your wand out – " He shut up quickly as Harry's Hipbone of Magnitudinal Sonorosity slammed into his jaw, effectively dislocating it. "Hey, that's – " Inhalation of Rank and Odorous Insufflation to the kneecap. "Potter!" Monkey Fist to the small of the back. Snape was snoring on the floor.
"Harry Potter wins!" cheered Dumbledore. "Ten million points to Gryffindor!"
Harry was lifted into the air by wildly celebrating schoolchildren. "Po-TTER! Po-TTER!"
Just then, one of them tripped. Harry was flung headlong into the enormous hole Hagrid had created in the floor.
"Oops," said the Hufflepuff who'd tripped.
"One million points to Hufflepuff," said Dumbledore.
Ron and Hermione dove in after Harry.
o0o
Argus Filch yawned. The entire school passed out in rapture.
o0o
Harry inhaled.
Then exhaled. Then inhaled. Then exhaled. Then inhaled. Then inhaled. Because his super ninja skills allowed him to do that.
He was meditating on the floor of the Potions section of this sick obstacle course. It had been no challenge for him to summon an inferno of flame using only a hairpin and snot utilizing his monastery training to destroy the Devil's Snare, to snatch the flying key out of the air (that one he had learned from Mr. Miyagi's chopsticks in The Karate Kid), to win the absurdly simple chess game with his brilliant mind, and to beat the troll into submission until it agreed to be his lifelong servant.
Hermione, Ron, and Hagrid, who had found them when they'd fallen, were feeling very superfluous. They had hung out in the background; Ron and Hermione had kissed once, then had a shouting match ("Numerous fanfictions narrate how you are abusive mentally, physically and emotionally and how I leave you for Draco Malfoy!" "Yeah, well, maybe I leave you for...Lavender!" "No, there's fanfics about us too." "Cho Chang?" "Nope, taken." "McGonagall?" "Taken." "Dobby?" "Surprisingly, taken." "The Giant Squid?" "Er...all yours.") Hagrid had made a necklace out of troll hairs to give Filch, all the while muttering to himself in an Indian accent. But now they were all lying motionless on the floor.
It was obvious that whatever they had fallen into was meant to be protecting something. Harry was ravenous to find out just what that something was. Perhaps it was the Dragon Scroll that would complete his martial arts training, or a textbook that could finally explain economics to Ron. But first he had to get through this Potions section.
Because of the duel with Snape, Harry had not learned a single thing about Potions. It was still his first week, after all. All the classtime they'd had, Snape had spent verbally abusing Harry and composing love letters to Harry's mother, which Harry found disturbing on many levels. So he was going through this trial trusting nothing but his gut. He'd tested three of them out already on Ron, Hermione and Hagrid, all of whom were presently motionless on the floor. Hermione had taken one that put her to sleep, Hagrid had gotten roaring drunk on the wine, and Ron had taken one of the fatal ones. It hadn't killed him because he hadn't been taught what death was, so he was currently stuck in an argument with the Grim Reaper about where he was going.
Harry squeezed his eyes tight, then opened them. One bottle seemed to shine out from all the rest. "That one," he said aloud.
"But how can the poison have been ingested into my bloodstream when I took it in through my mouth?" asked Ron. The Grim Reaper, exasperated by the conversation, had tried a scientific approach to explain to him why he was dead.
Harry drank the potion, then walked confidently through the flames. He was untouched by the heat; he seemed to have chosen the right one.
In front of him was a full length mirror. The rest of the room was empty.
"Weird," said Harry. "Dumbledore wasn't supposed to have moved the Mirror of Erised yet. That comes later in the plotline..." He walked up to it and looked at his reflection. Bright green eyes looked inquisitively back at him. Then he felt a sudden weight in his pocket. He put his hand in his pocket and felt something long and papery, but before he could draw it out, the flames behind him flared.
"Potter," said Quirrell, walking calmly through the flames.
"You," said Harry in confusion. "That's your secret? That's why Filch didn't try to get with you? You're immune to fire?"
"The flames of passion," sneered Quirrell. "Yes, that's one reason Argus avoided me. The other reason was that I have a parasitic Dark Lord on the back of my scalp." He removed his turban with a flourish.
Harry gasped. "A conjoined twin on the back of your head! Ron was right!"
"Harry, meet Voldemort. Voldemort, meet Harry."
"Ah, yes," Voldemort wheezed. "Nice to meet you. Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived. I've come to destroy you."
"You don't even have a nose, much less a body," said Harry. "What are you going to do...bite me to death?"
"Yes, if you don't cooperate," said Voldemort.
Harry's knees went slack with fear. He collapsed. "No! Please! I'll do anything! What do you want?"
"Reach into your pocket. Show me the Stone!" croaked Voldemort.
Harry felt around in his pocket and withdrew the object he'd felt.
Voldemort looked shocked. "A...scroll?"
"Not just any scroll! THE DRAGON SCROLL!" shouted Harry exultantly. He sat cross-legged on the floor and began to read, ignoring the Dark Lord.
"But...where is the Philosopher's Stone?" wondered Voldemort, sounding desolate. Desolation transformed to rage. "Give it to me!" He flew at Harry (which meant that Quirrell stumbled backwards). Then he bit Harry on the nose. Harry screamed and writhed on the floor. "AUGHHHHH!"
"Only Hagrid could understand that," shrieked Voldemort. "Where is the stone?"
"Turn around," said a voice soft as silk, smooth as motor oil, intoxicating as firewhisky.
The two people, who were actually three, spun around. "Lucius?" said Voldemort in wonder.
Lucius Malfoy glided across the floor as if he was wearing delicate ice skates. He flourished the sick pimp-daddy cane he held in one elegantly gloved hand. On top of the cane was a glowing red stone.
"What?" asked Voldemort. "Are you trying to make me jealous of your ballin' swizzlin' pimpalicious cane? 'Cause it's working."
"Look at the top, My Lord," sang Lucius melodiously. His hair flowed gently in the nonexistent wind.
Voldemort peered at the glowing stone. "The Stone!" he cried. "Well done, Lucius! Let me bite it off, and then we shall destroy everyone in Hogwarts Castle!"
"Everyone?" inquired Lucius.
"Everyone."
So gracefully Harry was hypnotized, Lucius did a pirouette. Then his pointe-shoe clad foot darted out and punched Voldemort on the mouth, knocking out all his teeth.
"No more biting," said Lucius.
Harry slammed the Dark Lord to the ground using the Dragon Fist described in the Dragon Scroll. "No more living."
Dumbledore stepped through the flames, the Grim Reaper on his arm. "One million points to Dragon House!" Dumbledore cheered. The Grim Reaper stepped over to Voldemort and Quirrell and took the body in his arms, then disappeared in a cloud of sulfurous smoke.
"What's Dragon House?"
"You found the long lost artifact belonging to Dragonus Dragonus, one of the five founders! You are the Head of Dragon House now, Harry." Dumbledore put a fatherly hand on Harry's shoulder. "In fact, you're Headmaster now. I'm moving to Fiji to recuperate. I had to resurrect the Grim Reaper after your friend Ronald finally killed him with his ignorance. Sayonara, suckers!" And Dumbledore too disappeared.
The girl sitting at her computer screen smiled. "At least I gave him a happy ending. Take that, JK!"
JK Rowling, just starting the draft for her revisal of the entire Harry Potter series, felt an odd sensation.
"Dear?" she called.
"Yes."
"All of a sudden I'm getting this feeling...like some hypocritical teenage girl who can only write Mary Sues is criticizing my work."
o0o
"You saved us," whispered Argus, gazing reverentially at Lucius Malfoy.
"Well, he threatened to destroy everyone in this school including you," explained Lucius. "I wasn't going to let that happen."
Filch looked lovingly at Lucius's pimp-daddy cane. "And you have a level four playa cane. I'm only on level three!"
"Come with me and I'll teach you my ways," coaxed Lucius, and Argus and he disappeared into the sunset, arms wrapped around each other.
o0o
Harry, Ron and Hermione sat watching the same sunset. Hermione had finally woken up. Ron, thanks to his in-depth discussion with the Grim Reaper, finally understood basic science. Harry was Headmaster.
"It's lonely in Dragon House," he said. "I'm all by myself."
"That sounds sad," said Hermione. "Life must be awfully boring now that the plot of the next six books has been effectively rendered obsolete."
"Speak for yourself," said Ron. "The Giant Squid and I are eloping next Friday. It's very exciting."
"Besides, you haven't met me yet," said a new voice. The trio turned to see a black-haired, green-eyed girl walking up. "I'm Juliet, professional Mary-Sue, and Harry's twin sister."
"Where did you come from?" asked Harry.
"Dozens of fanfictions," said Juliet. "I was originally written to satisfy self-insertion urges. But all that happened was dead ended plotlines. A couple minutes ago JK Rowling added me in to spice up her newly revised plotline, which she is revamping to fill in plot holes."
"Ugh, self-insertion," muttered the teenage girl to her computer screen in disgust.
"But there's more to come," said Juliet. "You and I go on lots of adventures. And you haven't even been reborn yet!"
"Reborn?" yelped Harry. "You mean we have to do this all over again?"
o0o
Twelve years later, a baby boy was born. His birth finally fulfilled the Fanfiction Stereotype Prophecy. Although fanfictions from many generations had anticipated his first words (they varied from 'I am the Chosen One', to 'Well, that was unexpected') the words were considerably less literate than that.
"Ooga Booga!"
"I concur!" said Hagrid.
I swear I've seen like twenty billion fics with Harry's twin sister. It's good if done right, but if not...and same with Harry's rebirth.
THIS IS MY MOST FAVORITE THING I'VE EVER WRITTEN. PLEASE REVIEW MY DARLINGS. I'LL SEND YOU A PUN IF YOU DO.