Gotta go fast.

He sped through the grounds, the skirts of his fellow female schoolmates billowing as he passed by. The pages of books tore from their binding as he rushed by the library, past the Great Hall, and up the stairs to the Gryffindor Common Room. The heads of the school ghosts — even the nearly headless one — couldn't turn fast enough.

Gotta go fast.

The Fat Lady barely had time to scream out "Password?" before noting that the young wizard was approaching much too quickly. Her picture rose just in time for him to barrel through. A moment later, and the good lady would have been torn to sheds.

The boy ran into the Common Room and proceeded to do several laps around the coffee table. He failed to notice the four bodies occupying the chairs around it. Once he managed to stop himself, he posed in a manner uncharacteristic for a powerful wizard who many in his community called "The Chosen One."

"Gotta go fast!" screamed Harry Potter.

"Yes, we know."

The voice startled him. "Who's that?" he asked, in a voice mimicking a snarky American.

As he looked around the room, he saw four familiar faces. Ron Weasley, his noodly but strong-willed best friend. Hermione Granger, the brains (and bosom) of the bunch. Ginny Weasley, who called Harry her boyfriend. And Professor Minerva McGonagall, his Transfiguration teacher who seemed prim and proper on the outside, but who everyone knew secretly fought trolls in underground bars in Hogsmeade.

"Potter, do sit down," McGonagall said to him.

Potter slouched into one of the empty chairs. "What's up, teach?" he said. "Make it fast! I got a date with a chili dog. Mmm-mmm!"

McGonagall fought to find her words. Potter's entry had startled her. "Potter," she said, "the students and staff — and I as well — feel that you've been acting a bit off lately."

"Off?" said Potter, kicking back. "Sorry, teach. I don't associate with lightbulbs!"

"That's just it!" Hermione shouted, losing her already thin patience. "Look at yourself. You make terrible jokes, you run everywhere, and you sound ridiculous. I don't know how you haven't been expelled yet, or killed!"

"And Vol — that one's out there looking for you," Ron hissed. "Harry, have you gone mad?"

Potter looked at his friends with an air of confusion. "That one?" he said. "Oh! You mean Dr. Eggman! Don't worry about him. I've beat him before, and I'll beat him again!"

"No, not whoever that is," Ron groaned, burying his head in his hands. "I mean Voldemort."

Hermione slapped her thigh. "Great," she said. "Now he's going to hear us."

"If it's going to tick something on in his head, then fine!" Ron shouted. "Harry, look at me. Doesn't your scar hurt? Your scar, Harry. Remember that?"

Potter touched the lightning bolt on his forehead. His face went slack. "I — I've had this ever since I can remember," he said, with a hint of the British lilt returning to his voice.

"Yes, yes you have!" Hermione squealed.

"I got it in a battle," Potter muttered. "A terrible battle, where I almost lost everything."

"I guess," Ron thought, "but go on. You're nearly there!"

"A battle —"

And then Potter went back to square one. "A battle where Eggman decimated Station Square!" he shouted, jumping up. "I've gotta find him and give him a butt kicking!"

"Oh, Christ," Ron groaned.

"Harry?" Ginny squeaked, standing in front of him. "Harry, it's me. Don't you remember? We had a date planned tonight. You remember me at least, right?"

"Sure do, babe!" Potter said, lifting her into his arms. "And afterwards, maybe you and I can go grab us a couple of chili dogs!"

Ginny burst into tears. "But I don't even know what a chili dog is!"

Potter kicked the frame to the hallway. "Sorry, gang," he said, as the passage opened. "Time for me to split. Gotta go fast!"

He sped out to the hallway, with Ginny's shrieks becoming fainter by the second.

"Great," Ron moaned. "Now he's got my sister, and we still haven't cracked him."

"This is a very dark magic indeed," McGonagall muttered. "I wonder who could have done this to him."

A thump from the staircase made them turn. "Not a who," said Draco Malfoy, standing on the bottom stair. "But a what."

The three Gryffindors drew their wands. "Draco!" Hermione yelled. "What have you done to Harry?"

Draco stuck his nose in the air. "I've done nothing," he said. "Potter did this to himself. Look."

In his one hand was nothing like any of the wizards and witches had ever seen: A curved black plastic box with strange buttons connected to a long black cord. In the other, he held another black box with a strange board sticking out from the bottom. An unmoving picture on the box glowed in the light. A blue hedgehog smirked at them, and into their souls. The wizards and witches saw the hedgehog, and were transfixed immediately. Their feet began to pitter, and patter, and their legs began to bend and twist. They felt the need for speed course through their veins. The mantra pounded in their heads. It pounded in their hearts.

Gotta.

Go.

Fast.

The end.

A/N: Well, you sorry semi-sapient seersucker scallops! Did you enjoy this lampoon of leprous literature? Should you dare to ask, there are more where this came from. Just ask and ye shall receive, you middling mangoes! You necrophiliac nincompoops! You orange ovulating obelisk opportunity organizers! Now be off with you, and go to your "jobs" or lack thereof! Vamoose!