Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, the series would be doomed, because I'm a horrible slacker, and this is what I write in my free time.

"Don't talk to me, you filthy mudblood."

Hermione gasped, the team standing behind twelve-year-old Draco Malfoy sniggered, Ron got a dangerous look on his face, and Harry? Well, Harry was just confused.

"Why, I oughta..." Ron stepped toward Draco menacingly.

"Oh, going to do something, Weas–"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, just a second. What's a mudblood?"

The scene that looked as if it was about to burst into a fight was frozen as the Boy-Who-Lived asked a fate-changing question–though no one knew it was fate-changing at the time.

Hermione looked at Harry from where she was sniffing back tears. "It's a horrid, filthy thing to call someone. One of the worst insults ever. Something no one should ever–"

"Yes, yes, it's bad. What is it?"

"It means, Potter, that Granger here has only one drop of worthy blood running somewhere in her body. She's barely fit to be call a wit–"

"So you are basing her magical ability on her lineage."

Ron and Draco traded looks, as did the teams behind them.

"Well, Yeah." Ron and Draco said in a 'no-duh' tone.

Harry shook his head. How stupid were wizards, anyway? Muggles were so much more sensible about the world around them. They even knew something about magic–superstitions, fairy tales, ghost stories, etcetera. Books about magical worlds, and the disturbing FANFICTION that goes with them. In fact muggles had sensible tools and amazing technology that worked almost like magic. Harry considered making a chart. Wizards are linear–spells haven't changed much over the last century or two–while muggles are quadratic–over the last century, they had gone from candles to electricity, playing outside and getting exercise to game consoles and computers. Heck, instead of writing with a freaking quill, they used pencils and computers. So much faster. Their medical expertise is rather amazing...as...well...

The teams nearly cowered at the glowing look on their saviors face, a huge, toothy, almost creepy smile taking up most of it.

"I know now! This is exactly how to end this!"

Harry ran off toward his room, leaving two most bewildered teams scratching their heads, and resuming taunts.

*oOo*

"Sir, I have urgent business."

Harry Potter, now a Fifth year, stood in front of Dumbledore's desk. He had recently perfected a plan he had been hatching since Second year.

A twinkle that actually never seemed to leave, entered the Headmaster's eye.

"Yes, Harry? What is it?"

"I am calling...a Conference!"

The twinkle stuttered mid-twink.

"What?"

"A Conference."

"A conference?"

"No, a Conference. With a capital 'C'. It's that important."

Dumbledore, for once, was surprised.

"What will this Conference be about, Harry?"

"I cannot tell you the details sir, but know that this may end the war."

Shock. "Really? Are certain you cannot tell me?"

"Yes! It has to be a surprise."

Uncertainty. "Really, now, Harry my boy, this isn't a sham, is it? Not a way to attract more...attention, hmm?"

Harry was abashed. "Professor, please! You know I wouldn't do something like that, right? You don't really believe that rubbish, sir?"

Faced with sparkling, teary green eyes of a confused teen, Dumbledore didn't dare say yes, lest the floodgates burst. Or the cutting begin. Kids these days. In his day, when they were depressed, they threw themselves into their studies. Or off the tower. He never could remember...

"Why, of course not, Harry, it's just this doesn't seem plausible," He hastily answered. "and people will be skeptical."

"That doesn't matter! I just need your permission!"

Defeat. "Oh, all right. You may call a Conference. Just don't be surprised if people don't show."

Harry was practically bouncing with joy. "Oh, thank you sir! Besides, I'm sure people will show when they hear Voldemort's coming!"

Slam. The door to his office closed.

"What?!"

*oOo*

This was the biggest thing since cake. Which was a lie. So actually, it was the biggest thing since the Companion Cube. But the Companion Cube was dead. So in fact, it was the biggest thing since vague video game references.

Harry Potter was throwing the biggest Conference ever–so big and important, it had a capital letter. Yes, a capital letter. Anyone who was anyone was there. Rita Skeeter. Cornelius Fudge. Sirius Black. Albus Dumbledore. Arthur and Molly Weasley and Co. Hermione Granger. Draco Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy. Voldemort and Co. Wait, what? Even Hannah Abbot and Susan Bones who've barely been mentioned let alone seen for a long time. The often sexually-mistaken Blaise Zabini, who, by popular vote, was deemed male.

It was held in one of the large rooms in the Ministry, looking oddly like a debate stand. Harry stood in-between two podiums in a black tuxedo–not a lame ass dress robe, a tux-fucking-edo for Merlin's sake–with a brilliant rose clipped to it.

At one of the podiums was Albus Dumbledore, looking quite uncomfortable–well, actually, this is Albus Dumbledore, he just looked wise and old (Hella old), he felt uncomfortable. Especially since Voldemort, also known as Tom Riddle Junior when he still had a face, and by that we mean a face that wasn't bald and snakey–was that a fangirl scream?–was at the other podium.

Most of the afore mentioned people, excluding Albus and Tommy of course, were sitting in the seats below the stage the podiums were situated on. Behind the two leaders of opposing sides were giant banners with their faces on them and their slogan. Under Albus, "Love - Platonic And Completely NOT Homosexual - Conquers All!" Under Tommy, "Blood Purity ISSSSSS the BESSSSSST!"

Neither of them had EVER said that.

Really. We're not joking.

Mostly.

As Harry Potter banged a gavel on a desk that hadn't been there before, the crowd's chattering swelled to new levels, occasional screeches as people were put under the Cruciatus by Death Eaters, shuddering gasps of relief as the Cruciatus was lifted at a look from Voldemort (who, sadly, still had a snake face–was that the cry of anguish from fangirls?), yelled words causing blood feuds that would end in the death two lovers one dead, the other dead before, questions as to who raped who, whether or not it even was rape–it's not rape if you yell 'surprise!'–, the buying of a brand spanking new house, proposals of love shouted across the room, happy tears shed, cacaphony rising until the gavel banged louder than ever, and the ceaseless ever running noise finally...

The crowd shut up, okay?!

Harry cleared his throat. He didn't really know why he cleared his throat, but it seemed like the right thing to do.

"Welcome, Ladies and Gentlemen, Witches and Wizards to the Conference! No, it is not the conference of, or on, or about, or even in something or other. This is the Conference. With a capital 'C'. It's just that important. Today, I, Harry James Potter, have discovered a compromise as to this war. And before you get riled up"–for that is exactly what the crowd was preparing to do–"no, you don't have to accept Voldemort as Lord and Master the of Known and Unknown and Partially Known Thus Lonely Universe. Neither do you have to be completely ignorant as to what mugglekind is doing to the wizarding population. No, I have come up with a solution. But first, let us hear the opposing sides. Albus, Oops, I mean, 'Professor Dumbledore',–"(Yes, Harry did do the annoying finger quote marks in the air)–"please start. You have two minutes to state your point."

"Thank you, Harry. First, I would like to thank all the people in the audience for coming to today. It takes a strong wizarding community to recognize that we need change. It takes a stronger one to sit through politics all day and not go completely bonkers. But then again, that is what we have politicians for. Thank you, politicians. For being like, like a paladin. Doing something no one else wants to do. Anyway, back to the actual point. What my colleague, Voldemort, is doing, is morally wrong. Killing people and torturing them does not get a logical point across. How you are going about things is wrong. While the muggleborn and muggles marrying into pureblood wizarding families put strain on the populace in the sense that magic is being suppressed by this non-magical blood, killing the people and attempting to establish your rule through tyranny is not very logical. While I am not entirely sure as to how to fix this problem, your way is wrong. I have no more to s–"

"EEEE. Sorry sir, but your time is up. Thank you, Albus. Oops. Sorry. 'Professor'. And now, Tom, oops, sorry, 'Voldemort', you may have the floor, and two minutes with which to stare at how very shiny that floor is before I take it away from you like a misbehaving child with a toy."

"Uh, yeah, thanks, Potter. Thanks a lot. Especially for the whole killing me thing. Yeah. Thanks. Anyway. My point. Mudbloods and Muggles are marrying into pureblood families. This strains the bloodlines, and makes the magic in them less strong. Soon we'll be reduced to magicians on the side of a road, in front of zoos, or putting on shows for little children's birthday parties. It's bad. Mostly I'm motivated because my mother was pureblood and my father was a Muggle. My father was a Muggle who never loved my mother or me, even though really I never met either. It still hurts. So I kill them because I never knew mommy and daddy never loved me. Yeah, shut up fan girls. Remember the face (fucking rabid dogs). Thank you. No, really, thank you Harry. Thank you so much. For the whole killing me. Over and over and over again. Thanks a lot. T-dog out."

After a few traumatizing moments of the audience sitting in utter shock, and one person actually fainting (it was a Death Eater of unknown identity), Harry finally took back that oh so shiny floor.

"Uuuunh-huh. Anywho, the compromise. You have heard both sides. T-do–er, Voldemort, doesn't like muggleborns or Muggles because his father never loved him–shut up fan girls, remember the face (fucking rabid dogs, someone cut the ho already)–and Albus thinks it isn't cool how Voldemort goes about telling us how its gonna be. The whole killing people? Not cool. So, one day three years ago, I devised a plan on how to bring this war to an end. Voldemort just so conveniently managed to bring himself back through use of my blood in the meantime, thanks by the way, that didn't hurt like a bitch for the next two months, so he was able to be convinced to come to this Conference. Yeah. Convinced. There was recently a new discovery made by the Muggl–I mean, by the people in the Far East, yeah, in which people moved blood from one person to another."

Gasps rose from the crowd. The Death Eater who had previously fainted and had just come to, fainted again.

"How is this possible!" Cried Ernie Macmillan who no one knew or cared about (except maybe his family, but who cares about them?)

Hermione however was rather confused. "Harry, isn't that just a blood trans–"

She immediately cut herself off from the Horrific Death Stare™ given to her by Harry up on the stage (Get yours now! Sold by shady eye doctors everywhere!).

"Yes! Blood moved from one to another! Thus, we can remove or transform the non-magical blood in a non-pureblood i.e. muggleborn or half-blood, and replaced it with pureblood! Of course, for this method to work, we will need purebloods to give blood samples. Possibly from all over the world. We'll need to take into consideration blood types..."

"What are blood types?" Called a random person knows, possibly named Eleanor Rigby, no one's really certain. But they know she likes the Beatles. Or they would. If she weren't so lonely. Where did she come from, anyway?

"Erm, they're magical signifiers...uhm...in the blood...having to do with your, uh, family. Yeah. Its magic. Magic! NOT SCIENCE!"

"Okay! We'll blindly believe you!"

And thus the Conference ended.

Harry Potter saved hundreds of lives, and went off to a secret place to live with his secret gay lover. Yes, ladies, we all know who it is. Ron went off with Hermione and they had millions of children. Well, not really. It seemed more like billions. Tonks and Remus finally got it on after she finally convinced him that it isn't pedophilia. No seriously. It isn't.

Luna and Neville shacked up after they realized how dreamy each other's eyes were. To Neville, Luna's eyes really did look like they were in dreamland. Not quite there. La-la land. Moving on. Crabbe and Goyle were very sad because, no matter how hard they looked, they couldn't find their ferret anywhere. Yes ladies, we all know who it is and where they went.

Ginny went over to Tom's house and neither were ever seen again. Really, we don't know. We're considering sending a search party. But we think they somehow made him young again with weird screwy time magic and thus reversed the snake face. Speaking of the snake face, someone finally cut that ho. Thank you, mysterious cutter of hoes. We love you.

Authors Note: This was the most fun I've had since playing Portal. Thank you everyone who got that video game reference. I love you. Almost as much as the mysterious cutter of hoes. I hope they shanked her good. I'd like to remind everyone that this is a crack fiction, everyone is supposed to be high, and I hope it gave everyone a good laugh. It certainly gave me one.

I loved writing this. I hope everyone liked the funny twists on characters and vague references to video games and webcomics (paladin–think DnD), and how the 'thanking everyone for coming' by Albus Dumbledore was written thinking about the presidential debate. I also really hope no one flames it. It was meant to be silly and outlandish. Though if you do flame, make 'em good, hot roaring flames that me and my sister can roast sweet delicious marshmallows on. Made of crack. Not sugar.

The answer to the war and mudblood/muggleborn muggle marrying shit was obviously blood transfusions! Take out the nasty non-magical blood and replace it with magical blood! Thank you for realizing the answer to our problems is not through violence, but donations and charity and kindness and realizing that we need to change. Thanks for reading! Please Review!