Harry Potter in You Got Served

by Emily N. Daniel

"Ron, look at this," Harry said as he picked up the broken fragment, "What do you think it could be?"

"Blimey, Harry, I dunno," Ron replied, scratching his head.

"Whatever it is, it looks like it could be something of great importance," Harry went on, "Perhaps we should let Hermione take a look at it. She will probably figure it out sooner than we ever could."

"Yes, Harry, she probably could," Ron agreed, "Afterall, she is the best and brightest witch out there. Far superior in her knowledge and skills than we could ever hope to be. Yes, let's consult her with this problem that we could never hope to solve on our own."

"Right on, Ron," Harry said as he got up, the broken fragment in hand. As he and Ron walked down the corridor, they noticed a figure with slicked-back white blond hair blocking the door, joking around with a couple of friends. As they approached, they could see it was actually Draco Malfoy and his cronies, Crabbe and Goyle. Harry glared at them. Draco looked up and grinned.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Potter. Am I in your way?" Draco asked.

"As a matter of fact, yes you are," Harry answered.

"Oh, well then...go ahead," Draco said, standing aside. Crabbe even opened the door for them. Goyle just gave a friendly smile and nod. "I'll see you around, okay?"

Harry gave Draco a strange look as he and Ron walked through the door. "What do you think that was all about?" He asked his friend.

"I dunno, but it can't be good," Ron told him, "Draco has never been known to be nice. I mean, he's never acted like that before...Ooh, look! It's Crookshanks! How's the precious baby? Yes, he's such a sweet kitty!" He picked the cat up and snuggled it for a few moments when suddenly the hall shook, bits of plaster showering down on them. Ron clutched onto the cat, his face white as a ghost. No, wait, not like a ghost. More like a china doll. Afterall, it's not like Ron's face was translucent or anything of the sort. Yes, definately more like a china doll than a ghost.

"RON, LOOK OUT" Harry yelled, pushing his friend to the floor as a huge chunk came falling down from the ceiling. It crashed just inches from where Harry's foot now lay and where Ron had been standing just moments before. Harry looked up to see the sky. The actual sky. I mean, it's not like they were in the Great Hall. This ceiling wasn't enchanted or anything. Just an ordinary ceiling. That is how Harry knew that it was the actual sky he was looking at. Ron knew it too. Sharp boy, that one. Anyway, the sky was dark, pitch black...can't much darker than that, now can ya? "Ron, look!" Harry pointed up to the hole in the ceiling, "It's nightfall! If Filch catches us out here, we're in deep trouble!"

"Right," Ron said and got up. Crookshanks rubbed against his leg. "So, back to the common room then." The two boys made their way up the many staircases until they managed to reach the portrait of the fat lady. "Ronaldis Brilliant!" Ron bellowed at the portrait.

"No, you're not," the fat lady huffed, "Not if you can't remember what the bloody password is. Honestly, when will you realize that Ronaldis Brilliant will NEVER be a password..."

"AUGH! HARRY!" Ron cried as the staircase gave a great lurch and started to change. Ron stumbled and fell, tumbling over the top of the moving staircase.

"RON!" Harry screamed and looked over the banister at his fallen friend. "Ron, are you okay?"

"Oh, yeah, Harry. Just fell four stories! Now that that's over, how about we go for a ten mile jog on my broken leg?!" Ron replied sarcastically.

"Broken leg, you say?" A far-too-familiar voice asked, kneeling beside Ron. Ron looked up only to find his Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Gilderoy Lockhart.

"No...oh, gawd, please! Don't try to fix my leg! Remember what happened to Harry? You made his bones disappear entirely!" Ron cried, tears rolling down his cheeks, the pain of his broken limb becoming overwhelming. "I would miss my bones so..."

"Dear boy, what makes you think that I'd bother fixing that bloody leg of yours?" Lockhart gave a mighty laugh. "I would much rather cut it off entirely."

"WHAT?!" Ron exclaimed, "AUUUGH! HARRY! LOCKHART'S GONE MAD!"

"HAHAHAHA!" Lockhart conjured up a chainsaw and started revving it up. Harry knew he had no time to spare. He went to the nearest telephone booth and put on a pair of tights and tied a sheet around his neck. He then came strutting out, chest puffed out and head held up high in the air.

"Da da da daaaaaaaa! Never fear! Harry's here!" Harry called out and swooped down to his friend. He drew nearer and nearer. Just as he was about to reach Ron, however, Lockhart lifted his mighty chainsaw towards Harry. Soon, Harry was reduced to nothing more than a couple slabs of meat. "Now it's your turn, Mr. Weasley. Don't worry. You won't feel the pain for very long..."

"Wow, Neville! This nosh is excellent! The house elves did a superb job on it!" Hermione grinned and took a huge bite of meat. "What did they say it was again?"

"I'm not sure," Neville replied, "Actually, they said Lockhart was the one who brought it in. Fantastic man, he is. Not only is he teaching classes here, but he is acting as a hunter/gatherer for the student body."

"Wow! Is there anything that man can't do?" Hermione sighed, a dreamy look in her eyes, "Hmmm, I wonder where Harry and Ron are. They are missing out on quite a feast! This is far better than anything that's ever been served before..."