AN 3/15/13: Thanks for the couple of reviews I have so far, guys! It seems that the ones I've received don't like a Ron who reads books. I always thought Ron was the type of person who would turn to books when he had literally nothing else to do with himself, but maybe not. As such, I have changed that small portion for your enjoyment as it wasn't really a major point in the story... at all. Anyway, I'm really pleased with the response the story's gotten! I didn't realize I could write one-shots at all; I thought I was more of a multichapter type of a person, myself. This was originally written just to break some of my writer's block. It hasn't worked yet, so expect some more one-shots in the future!
Harry could hear Hermione's soft, tinkling laugh across the Common Room. It wouldn't be so obvious had she not been nearly silent for the last few weeks. OWLS were nearly open them, and the vast majority of Hermione's conversations consisted of, "Do you know that charm that makes ears just a little bit pointed at the end? I don't mean the one that turns them completely pointed of course; I've already learned that one. I'm certain this one has just a little bit of a different flick to the wrist. The incantation has to be the same, of course, according to the most recent research in wand theory, but—" At this point, Fred and George were collecting bets over what would happen if they poked her precious books with a stick… a very long one, of course. No one would want to be in that line of fire. George said Hermione would blow up in an explosion of accidental magic, end up in the hospital wing, and still manage to get almost all O's on her OWLS. Fred said she'd scream loud enough to shatter the eardrums of any nearby banshees and earn an award for special services to the school for deafening them to the point where they forgot how to scream. Harry wanted to be in Australia when someone decided to bother her.
He turned around; Hermione chuckled again. A few more kids looked around, more than slightly alarmed. Ron desperately hoped she hadn't gone, "'round the bend." He needed her to write the introduction of his Charm's essay. "Harry," she said somewhat breathlessly after a few minutes, "You need to come read," she was cut off by a loud guffaw, "this." She gasped out the last word.
Harry, more than a little filled with trepidation, approached the witch cautiously. That laughter had more than a little hint of hysteria involved. "What is it, Hermione?" he asked in a vain attempt to keep his voice level. Any wrong word and he'd be hexed with the product of Hermione's latest practical studying sessions.
Her shoulders shook with laughter, and she gave up on trying to respond. She simply handed over the book and pointed at the title.
"Oh, God," Harry said, looking at the title: We-Know-Who, Do You?
Ron ambled over after deciding that Hermione wasn't going to hex anyone into St. Mungo's. "Yeah, thanks for being backup when I needed it," Harry thought with a twinge of slight irritation.
"I remember that book," Ron said as he took the thin paperback from Harry. "Ginny used to keep it under her pi—" Ginny cut him off with a very sharp glare from across the room, followed by a deep red flush as she saw Harry. She quickly packed up her materials and left for the girl's dormitories. Hermione looked over her shoulder, "You're going to get it for that one, Ronald," she said with an air of mock wisdom.
Ron blanched.
"How did you get this story?" Harry asked, eyes narrowed.
"I was taking a short study break, and I needed something that would be exceedingly easy to read. If I stop reading during my study breaks, then I never want to read again. Instead I pick up something so easy it gives my brain and eyes a break. It's almost like dunking my face in a cool cauldron of water."
Ron looked at her skeptically, "Only you would describe reading like that, Hermione."
She shrugged. "Anyway, it's rather… interesting. I think the suggested age is between 6 and 8, though I would have read that in Kindergarten or earlier."
"Yes, well, not everyone was reading Shakespeare and Dickens by the time they were seven," Ron retorted.
"How do you even know who those people are?" Harry asked.
"Dad keeps a lot of Muggle books around the house. And… I hid near the bookshelves when Fred and George tried to make me try their guinea pig." Ron flushed.
Harry sighed as Hermione returned to her mountain of work. Some things would never change. She actually smelled like ink and parchment now. Ron wandered back to his armchair by the fire to pretend to study some more. Harry picked up the book absently; he was in need of a study break. Actually, he probably wouldn't get much more done tonight. He covered two weeks of charms studying and memorized the brewing of at least 7 OWL potions tonight. Hermione would certainly be proud of him. Usually she only did a week's worth of charms and 5 potions. Given, that was on one of her "normal" days. On the good days she did a month's classwork, including rewriting essays. Harry could never do that. He shuddered at what he would probably receive for his History of Magic OWL. "Good thing that isn't required for Aurors," he mumbled.
"What's that, mate?" Ron asked.
"Nothing. Think I'm going to read this book though," Harry said and plopped himself down in a chair.
"Well you deserve it. Hermione would be proud of what you did tonight, Harry, and after Quidditch practice too."
Harry swore he could see a very timid fistbump over behind a mountain of books. He smiled and picked up the blasted children's story.
Once upon a time, "Oh God," Harry thought again, there was a powerful wizard. His name was James Potter. James Potter's smiling face rose out of the page. Harry couldn't help but laugh at his neatly combed hair. This book was wrong in more ways than one.
Have you heard of him? He was a Gryffindor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and a warrior against dark wizards. Muggles call these types of people the "SBS." He married another powerful witch, Lily Evans. The two of them soon became the parents of Harry James Potter. Harry Potter was the key to a massive plot that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named created.
Harry flipped the page. He saw a picture of Voldemort with one of the most bizarre expressions on his face he'd ever seen. It appeared that the textbook authors didn't want Voldemort to look too evil, so they had him smiling with his eyebrows narrowed and his wand pointed outward accusingly. The Death Eaters were in a word… ridiculous. Their masks were silver smiley faces instead of the silver grimaces that covered Voldemort's true supporters. "Can I fight these guys next time, please?" Harry prayed.
Do you know who that man is? Sometimes wizards go very bad. They don't like other people, and they want to hurt them. Have you ever gotten mad at a brother or sister? You were angry, weren't you? That's how this man felt all the time. And he took out his anger on good people all over England. He was evil. Harry flipped the page.
Baby Harry Potter was as cute as could be.
"Merlin help me," Harry thought as he pictured his classmates reading this story when they were small.
He flew on toy brooms, and had ice cream with his parents, just like you! Harry dedicated the next few moments to gagging. He even had a birthday party for his first birthday. There were cakes, presents, and music. Do you have music at your birthday parties?
Harry noticed a small note at the bottom of the page: For the official Harry Potter Birthday Party Mix, please owl Harry Potter Stories & Company. Owls will find us at the location nearest you. "They have a company now?" Harry thought.
But when it was Halloween, the day when witches and wizards celebrate their magic, You-Know-Who came for Harry!
Harry pretended to gasp in horror, shaking in laughter at the thought of how small children would react to what he really hated to call a book.
It was very late at night, probably past the bedtimes of most of you dear readers. You see, You-Know-Who wanted to sneak up on the Potters. They thought they were safe, but not many people were really safe from such an evil man.
A thought floated through Harry's head, "How are they going to portray killing in a children's book?"
When You-Know-Who came into the house, James Potter caught him. James dueled the dark man fearlessly, but the evil inside him was too powerful. You-Know-Who sent a curse that knocked James's spirit into the next world. His body was left empty.
Harry looked down at the picture accompanying the caption. A smiling white wisp rose from James's body and looked like it could fly out the door. This picture, unlike most of the others, actually moved. For whatever reason, the drawings on the other pages were stationary, probably because the copying company didn't want to waste the money and place the pictures in the animation-potion that allowed them to move. This one, however, seemed to be worth the extra couple knuts. The spirit flew out the door, sticking his tongue out at Voldemort on his way out. Harry couldn't help but laugh at what he knew was a grisly situation. Trust a children's book to make death look this fun. James Potter appeared to be having the time of his life, especially as he flew through Voldemort's face on his way out. Harry could see the crude imitation of Voldemort scrunch his nose in annoyance as the wisp passed through him. "If this is the filth my classmates have been reading, no wonder they all think Dumbledore and I are bonkers."
The evil man went to Lily Potter next. She stood in front of Baby Harry's crib trying to protect him. He came to her just the way he did to James.
A similar wisp, this one of Lily, flew through Voldemort's face. However, this wisp was tinged slightly pink, and Harry could see a few heart bubbles popping up around the room.
But you see, Lily didn't leave Harry without a special gift. Only a mother's love as strong as Lily's could leave such a powerful gift. She protected him with her last moments, and her love filled the young boy.
The infernal heart bubbles now gravitated towards Harry's body. He looked down at himself, almost expecting those blasted hearts to pop off the page and sink into his skull.
When the evil man turned on Harry, he tried to cast the same curse that hurt his parents. When he tried… Harry laughed at the book's awful imitation of suspense as he turned the page.
He couldn't! Heart bubbles rose above the page and floated around the air. A few people in the common room snickered, thinking someone sent Harry a rather zealous love note.
The evil man never understood the power of love, and it destroyed him. Love ripped You-Know-Who's spirit from his body and threw it into the air in a million billion pieces!
Harry couldn't help but grin as the heart bubbles attacked the picture of Voldemort, who wore a look of priceless child-friendly-anguish on his face. Baby Harry sat in his crib, grinning at the entire fiasco. Clearly it had missed both the baby and most of the readers that the toddler's parents were both dead, one on the floor directly in front of him. However, as Older Harry looked down, he noticed that Lily's body vanished in a swarm of hearts. "Clever," Harry thought as he flipped the page, somewhat interested in hearing what came next.
Harry disappeared for a few years after. People wanted to keep him a secret, since he was the most spectacular boy in the wizarding world. The love between him and his mother broke all ideas of magic we had ever dreamed of. He was a hero, the Boy-Who-Lived! No one could defeat the evil man before, but so much love couldn't help but beat the bad man. Harry grows older every day, just like you dear reader, and one day he will be a great wizard, ready to help the wizarding world with all the love in his heart.
THE END.
Harry put the book down in shock. "What the bloody hell was that?" he said aloud. A picture of his toddler visage rose from the last pages. Harry noticed that a few very pink and very annoying hearts rose from the book around his head. And worse yet, they played wizarding lullabies, probably to soothe young children after reading what was clearly a thrilling work of literary genius. Ron tried to stifle a chuckle and failed miserably. Hermione, having finished her work for the night, pranced over to Harry with a small spring in her step. Nothing made Hermione happier than a day of finally finished work. "I wonder who wrote that book?" Hermione said and turned it to the front.
Harry blanched. Hermione stared. Ron bellowed, "RITA SKEETER?"