Hermione Sue and the Prisoner of A. Cuaron
By: Trystym and Delylah
Rating: PG-13 (mild sexual references, a bit of language here and there, but no "f"word yet)
Summary/Author's Notes: This is a parody of the movie version of HP and the Prisoner of Azkaban. We don't own these characters or situations. Furthermore, we have borrowed bits of dialogue and situations from other places too, such as Star Wars, Shakespeare, Moonlighting, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and possibly a few others. We have taken one or two digs at J.K. Rowling's story, too, all in the name of humor. We love her and the world she created for us (and find it infinitely preferable to Cuaron's.)
Harry Potter lay in bed playing with his wand. No, not that wand. The other wand. He missed his friends, particularly his friend Hermione Granger, the cleverest witch of her age. Summers were dreadful. He never seemed to know quite what to do with himself when he wasn't playing with his wand. He was a bit put out because Aunt Marge was coming to visit the next day. He hated Aunt Marge.
If only Hermione were here. She'd know what to do about Aunt Marge, Harry thought.
Unfortunately, without Hermione's guiding influence, Harry wound up blowing up his Aunt. He found himself on the street the next evening, sitting on the curb alone, wondering what he should do next.
"What would Hermione do?" he wondered.
Suddenly, the playground equipment began to move of its own accord in an ominous and vaguely threatening manner. Harry suddenly felt more confident. He had been in many similar situations with Hermione. It was obviously time to panic. He began breathing heavily and whimpering (because, of course, Ron had frequently been along for the ride in these situations, too). Lacking the ability to show any further emotion convincingly, he quickly whipped out his invisibility cloak and hid beneath it, thus completely missing the mangy, half-starved, not-very-large dog in the bushes. The dog shrugged and bounded away.
When Harry felt he had whimpered long enough, he decided it was time to advance the plot. He stood up and fell backwards over his luggage. Nothing happened. Scratching his head, he looked skyward to find an origami crane spiraling gracefully down towards him. It read:
You forgot to stick out your wand.
Love from,
Hermione
Harry unzipped his pants. Another crane appeared, this one squawking and flapping in his face. It unfolded itself and howled in a booming voice:
NOT THAT WAND, STUPID! THE OTHER WAND!
"Oh," Harry muttered. "Well, I forgot to visit the loo before I left anyway."
When Harry finished his, ahem, business, he drew the proper wand out of his pocket and held it out. With a loud BANG, the Knight Bus appeared. The door slid open, and Harry was surprised and somewhat baffled to see a Shrunken Talking Head with dreadlocks, singing.
"Letting the days go by, let the water hold me down, letting the days go by, water flowing underground," it sang. Then it noticed Harry. "Welcome to the islands, I mean, the Knight Bus, mon. Hop on board!"
"But...what happened to Stan?" Harry asked. "I thought he was supposed to be the conductor."
"Budget cuts mon," the Shrunken Talking Head said in a terrible Jamaican accent. "His salary went towards the grasping corporate monster also known as Industrial Light and Magic. Most of the real people have been replaced with CGI characters. Lucas is trying to fund the next Star Wars film, you know. I've been promised a bit part as Jar-Jar Binks's long lost cousin. Now get on, mon. We ain't got all dey."
Harry tossed his suitcase onto the Knight Bus. After being slammed around several times and experiencing molecular compression at the quantum level, they arrived at the Leaky Cauldron, where Harry was greeted by the Hunch Back of Notre Dame.
"Good to see you again, Harry, good to see you," the Hunch Back said.
Harry looked around and wondered if he had somehow wandered into the wrong book. "Um, excuse me, but Joanne didn't mention the Leaky Cauldron had changed owners."
"Harry, don't know you me?" the Hunch Back asked.
Harry squinted at him. "Tom, is that you? What happened?"
"I accidentally served Alfonso tea with cream and no sugar instead of tea with sugar and no cream. In return, I lost 30 IQ points and gained a hump." "Be careful, Harry. I fear you're in grave danger. Now come along. Minister Fudge is waiting."
Harry followed "Tom" up the stairs. They paused outside a great wooden door. Harry could hear muffled voices from inside, arguing.
"No, no, no. No lime green in my movie! It's not artistic--it's too damn cheery! It ruins the ambience. Take that costume away and bring me something in a nice, depressing charcoal."
Harry looked at Tom, whose arms were folded across his chest.
"Aren't we going inside?" Harry asked.
"Just a minute."
Finally a loud buzzer sounded on the other side of the door. Tom promptly opened it and ushered Harry inside, where they found Minister Fudge wearing a somber, grey pinstriped suit.
"Harry, you'll be glad to know the Oompa Loompas located your Aunt Marge and rolled her to the pressing room. She'll have no memory of her ordeal, only a few stretch marks, but on a woman of her stature, who would notice a few extra?" the Minister said cheerily.
Tom stood in the background, loudly cracking nuts that nobody was going to eat. When Harry glanced over, Tom shrugged. "I don't know why. It was in the script," he said by way of explanation.
Harry shrugged, and looked back at Minister Fudge. "Minister, aren't I going to be punished?"
"Ordinarily, Harry, you would have been sent to Azkaban, but we simply don't have time. It's almost time for Hermione's grand entrance. Now, follow Tom upstairs. You'll be staying overnight."
"But what then?" Harry asked. "There's two weeks until school starts again, and I just can't go back to the Dursley's. Plus, I still need to purchase my school things."
"Harry, don't be silly. Your books are waiting for you in your room, and I've arranged for school to begin day after tomorrow."
"How'd you manage that?" Harry asked.
"The same way I arrange for September First to fall on a Monday every year. It's best not to question these things, Harry. The less you know about such things, the better. Now run along." The minister shooed him away.
Harry followed Tom up the stairs. After wrestling with a huge, hairy book that resembled a tarantula with fangs, he fell immediately asleep. He was awakened the next morning by a loud clatter. He turned over to find that Hedwig had smashed through the window, carrying in her claws a large birdcage, the door of which had obviously been gnawed open. Harry smacked himself upside the head.
"Hedwig! I completely forgot I left you locked in your cage at the Dursleys'! Clever girl."
Hedwig whapped Harry upside the head with the birdcage, knocking him out cold. When he came to, he found her chasing an origami crane about the room and screeching madly. Finally, she snapped her beak upon the unfortunate piece of paper and carried it to Harry.
"Thanks, girl. And I'm really sorry."
Hedwig flew to her perch, turned her back on Harry and began preening her feathers. Harry unfolded the origami crane. It read:
Harry,
You're going to be late for my grand entrance! Hurry up and get downstairs!
Love from,
Hermione
PS Make sure to brush your teeth, wear your green checked shirt, and for Pete's sake, comb your hair.
Harry quickly dressed and groomed himself as Hermione instructed, and then he walked downstairs.
Wow, it sure is bright in here, he thought. Guess Tom's been redecorating.
Suddenly, all of the patrons of the Leaky Cauldron halted their activities and gathered at the back of the room facing the door. Harry paused on the stairs, wondering what was up. Slowly, the door opened to reveal Hermione Granger in all her perfectly coiffed glory. Around the pub, the patrons began clapping softly. Hermione took several bows, beaming brightly, then reached behind her and picked up the second ugliest cat in the world.
"Hermione," Harry said, "where did you get this...thing?"
Ron Weasley stepped out of the crowd of applauding patrons. Harry hadn't even noticed he was present.
"That is Hermione's new, highly intelligent and butt-ugly cat, Crookshanks. It seems to have taken an immediate dislike to poor Scabbers," Ron moaned miserably.
Ron would have said more, but Hermione interrupted.
"Ronald, Crookshanks likes Scabbers just fine, especially sautéed with a little garlic. He's a cat. They eat rats, it's their nature. Besides, Crookshanks would probably be doing you a favor taking that decrepit old rat off your hands. I've always thought there was something decidedly odd about it."
Hermione continued to babble. Harry, after wondering briefly when Hermione began calling their best friend "Ronald", tuned her out completely and began wandering around the pub greeting the rest of the Weasleys. Percy stuck out a hand for Harry to shake.
"'All right there, Percy?" Harry asked.
Percy held up a note card. It read:
Hi, Harry. I'm Head Boy this year. I'd love to tell you all about it, but my lines have been deleted in order to devote more screen time to Hermione. You shan't see me again, except for approximately thirty seconds outside the Gryffindor common room three months from now during a crisis that Hermione is obviously too busy to manage.
Percy beamed at Harry, who shrugged and moved on. He thought he caught a glimpse of Ginny, blushing madly and hiding behind a stone column. The twins passed a piece of news-parchment towards Harry, but it was time for Hermione to speak again so he didn't have time to read it.
Hermione was nudging Mr. Weasley forward.
"Go on, tell him," she whispered.
"Well, if you're certain, Hermione," Mr. Weasley hedged, also whispering.
"Of course I'm certain. I'm the cleverest witch of my age. Besides, it's time to advance the plot."
"Very well." Mr. Weasley turned towards Harry and spoke in a normal tone. "Harry, come with me. There's something I must tell you."
Harry followed Mr. Weasley into a secluded corner of the Leaky Cauldron.
"Harry, you must promise me you won't go looking for Sirius Black."
"Who?" Harry asked.
"Sirius Black, the murderer who escaped from Azkaban Prison. He wants to kill you."
"But what about Voldemort?" Harry asked, puzzled.
"Oh, he's on vacation in Tortuga. He'll be back in the next book," Mr. Weasley assured him.
"Oh. But who is Sirius Black, and why does he want to kill me?" Harry wondered.
"Those kinds of details aren't important, Harry. Alfonso and Steve decided there wasn't enough room for that much dialogue. Besides, they couldn't figure out a way for Hermione to be the one to tell you. After all, she's a muggle-born and she's only thirteen. She doesn't know bollocks about Sirius Black."
"Oh. Ok." Harry shrugged and went about his business. He took a seat on the bench at the table with everyone else to await further instructions from Hermione. The next thing he knew, they were on the Hogwarts Express, wandering along the corridor in search of a compartment.
"How did we get here?" he asked.
"Dunno," Ron replied. "I don't have any lines until a few minutes from now, when it's time to be comically frightened." He fell silent and followed Hermione obediently.
"Scene transition, Harry," Hermione replied. "Oh, there's some really cute ones later on with the Whomping Willow. You know, Alfonso does seem to have an unusual fixation with that tree, not to mention an inexplicable vendetta against blue birds."
Hermione led them to the last available compartment, which was occupied by a sleeping stranger. Harry looked around behind them.
"Where is Ginny? And Neville?" he asked. "Shouldn't they sit with us?"
"Hermione can only share a scene with a maximum of three other persons," Ron whispered to Harry. "It's in her contract."
Harry briefly appeared puzzled. "That's going to make attending classes rather difficult, isn't it?"
"Oh, don't worry," Ron said. "We have a grand total of five classes this entire year, and she only shows up halfway through each of them. We'll make do."
Hermione glared at Ron, who appeared chagrined and immediately fell silent once more, until Hermione elbowed him.
"Huh? Oh. Sorry. It's easy to miss your cues when all your dialogue has been given away." Ron cleared his throat. "I wonder who that mysterious looking bloke is?" he pondered aloud in a stage whisper.
"That is Professor R. J. Lupin," Hermione replied in a knowing tone.
"How do you know?" Harry asked.
"It's written on his traveling case," Hermione replied. "Furthermore, I've just about decided he's a werewolf."
"Why on earth would you think that?" Harry asked.
Ron muttered something under his breath that sounded like "reading ahead in the script."
Hermione ignored him. "His shabby robes, his grey pallor coupled with the fact that the full moon was last night, the mysterious scars across his face, and the faint hint of wolfsbane potion in the air," she said, sniffing lightly.
"Hermione, that's bloody brilliant!" Harry exclaimed, completely in awe of his friend's deductive powers. Ron snorted in disgust and started out the window as Harry continued. "What should we do about it?"
"We should wait until a pivotal moment in the plot, where I shall then reveal to him that I have known his secret all along and proceed to scream shrilly at him for having betrayed us all."
"Oh. If that's what you think is best, then," Harry said doubtfully.
"Trust me, Harry. I have it all figured out," Hermione assured him.
Just then, the train came to an abrupt halt, throwing Harry, Hermione and Ron to the floor in a great heap.
"Well this has all the makings of good trio-smut," Ron joked, leering at Hermione. She smacked him on the arm as she disentangled herself from the two boys.
"I am NOT that kind of girl," she chided him.
"That's what YOU think," Ron replied.
Surprisingly, Professor R.J. Lupin was still sound asleep. In fact, he didn't seem to have been disturbed by the sudden jolt in the slightest. Harry poked him once to be sure he wasn't actually dead. Then the lights went out.
"What's happening?" Harry asked. He heard muffled smacking noises coming from the bench across from him.
"Mmmf, no Ron, that's my foot. Aim a little higher."
More smacking noises.
"Hermione, can't you wear a front-clasp once in a while?" Ron complained.
"Hey!" Harry cried. "None of that, now! We're only thirteen!"
In the darkness, Harry could barely see the two figures across from him separating.
"Sorry," Hermione said sheepishly. "Just got a bit carried away, there." She elbowed Ron again.
"Huh? Oh. Um...." Ron paused, produced a thick sheaf of parchment from thin air and consulted it briefly. "Leaky Cauldron...no, ah, here it is." Ron tucked the parchment away, then placed his hand against the window and stared out of it with a terrified expression. "There's something m-m-moving out there," he announced in a quavering voice.
"Oh, Ronald!" Hermione cried, clutching at Ron's arm and jumping into his lap. Ron rolled his eyes, then dutifully held Hermione to keep her from sliding to the floor.
Harry began shivering. "Who turned on the air conditioning?" he asked.
Professor R.J. Lupin was still sound asleep. As the children watched, ice began forming over the window. Then a shadow appeared at the door to the compartment, and a bony, arthritic looking hand slid back the doorway. A great, scary looking Thing draped in a tattered black sheet (which resembled a ghost costume Harry had worn for Halloween when he was six) came strolling in.
"We're looking for Sirius Black," the Thing wheezed.
"He's not here. Go away!" Hermione shouted.
The Thing shrugged and looked at Harry. "Eh. You've got messy, black hair. You'll do."
The Thing pulled a hose out of it's robes, flipped a switch at the end and loomed ominously over Harry, holding the hose over Harry's mouth. Harry felt a great vacuum pulling the air out of his lungs.
"What do I do?" he screamed at Hermione. Though the words were muffled by the hose, Hermione had no trouble understanding him.
"Can you hear anything, Harry?" Hermione asked.
Harry listened carefully. From a great distance, he thought he detected a woman screaming. He nodded frantically at Hermione.
"Is it your mum?" Hermione asked excitedly.
Harry batted the hose away and looked at Hermione in exasperation. "Hermione, my mum's dead. Has been for years. How the hell would I know what she sounds like?"
"Search your heart, Harry. Those we love never really leave us," Hermione said in a heartfelt voice. Ron shot her a disgusted glance before cowering in fear once more.
Harry replaced the hose and listened again. Sure enough, Hermione was right, as usual. It was indeed his mum screaming; Harry had no trouble recognizing her voice even though she wasn't saying anything, and even though Harry had been only one year old when she had been murdered. He nodded at Hermione again.
"Well, what are you waiting for, Harry? Pass out!" Hermione commanded.
So he did.
When Harry came to, Ron, Hermione, and the professor (who had finally woken from his nap) were all watching him with expressions of deep concern.
"What was that thing?" he asked.
"That was one of the dementors of Azkaban," Hermione intoned dramatically.
The professor cleared his throat sharply, and Hermione glanced over at him. He shook his head at her, and Hermione snapped her mouth shut, blushing slightly.
"That was one of the dementors of Azkaban," Professor Lupin intoned dramatically. "Here, have a chocolate. It helps."
"Chocolate? It felt like that thing was trying to suck out my soul. How the ruddy hell is chocolate going to help with that?"
"I find chocolate is the universal cure for anything that ails you," Hermione said loftily. When Professor Lupin passed the candy bar to her, she snapped off a huge chunk, far more than her fair share. When her companions glared at her, she shrugged, as if to say, "So?"
Harry chomped on the chocolate, then asked with his mouthful. "How did we get away from the dementor?"
Ron rolled his eyes. "Hermione talked it to death." He pointed to a shriveled, black heap in a corner, which appeared to be the remains of the dementor.
"Oh. Ok," Harry said, nodding. He had no problem believing that Hermione was fully capable of talking someone to death. She was, after all, the cleverest witch of her age and had been known to drone on and on about subjects that even Professor Dumbledore seemed to know nothing about.
Harry suddenly found himself in a carriage. It was pouring down rain, but through the storm he could make out a street sign that pointed one way to Hogwarts, and the other way to Hogsmeade. Harry had no recollection of ever hearing Hogsmeade being mentioned before. He wondered if it was a new housing development; they tend to spring up over night, after all. The next thing Harry knew, he was sitting at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. At the front of the room he could hear strains of beautiful music. When he leaned around Ron to get a better view, he saw Hermione alone at the front of the Hall, holding a toad, singing three-part harmony by herself, while the toad appeared to be carrying the baseline.
Ron did a double take. "How'd she get up there? She was just sitting here a moment ago!" he exclaimed.
"Beats me," Harry replied. "I didn't even know she could sing. In fact, I was almost certain she couldn't carry a tune in a bucket."
"And since when do we have music before the feast, anyway?" Ron complained. "I'm hungry. I've got bloody little else to do in this production. The least they could do is let me eat."
Percy turned and glared at them, holding his finger to his mouth. Ron rolled his eyes, but they listened to the rest of Hermione's recital quietly. When she finished, the room erupted in thunderous applause. Even the Slytherins were gazing raptly at the accomplished diva. Hermione bowed modestly, handed the toad to Professor Flitwick, then took her seat at the Gryffindor table.
Professor Dumbledore (at least, Harry thought it was Professor Dumbledore, his hair appeared to have changed from white to grey since Harry had seen him last) rose from his seat and shuffled up to a podium that practically hid the man from view.
"Where did that come from?" he whispered to Ron.
"The video game," Hermione whispered back before Ron could reply. "Don't you remember? In the Chamber of Secrets video game, that podium held the spell books you found."
"He looks ridiculous behind it," Harry mumbled. Hermione didn't seem to agree, so Harry said nothing further.
At the podium, Dumbledore was happily snuffing and re-lighting candles, and appeared to be talking to himself. After several moments, he seemed to become aware that the entire student body was staring at him expectantly.
"Oh. Good gracious, is it my turn? I was waiting for Hermione. Well, then, let's get started." He paused a moment and took a deep breath. "I've come to wiveth wealthily in Padua," he began.
Behind him, Professor McGonagall hissed to get his attention. "Psst, wrong script!" she whispered.
"What? Oh. Dear me." He scratched his head in confusion, and then started again. "Friends, Romans, country-men, lend me your ears."
Professor Snape shook his head and buried his face in his hands. "Wrong script," he muttered, loudly enough for at least half of the room to hear.
"Horsefeathers. I know I've got it written down here somewhere," Dumbledore mumbled as he rummaged around in his robes. "Ah, here it is." In one hand, he grasped a sheet of parchment. As the students looked on, he bent over and began fumbling about behind the podium. When he straightened, he was holding a weathered looking skull.
"Alas, poor Yorick, I knew him, Horatio!" Dumbledore's voice rang out triumphantly across the Great Hall.
To his utter astonishment, the entire student body called back in unison, "WRONG SCRIPT!"
"Oh, bloody hell!" Dumbledore said furiously. He looked behind him and called out, "Line, please!"
Professor Flitwick crawled under the table and scooted over to Dumbledore, who leaned down to listen as Flitwick whispered in his ear.
"Are you crackers? I would never say such a thing!" he exclaimed loudly.
Flitwick nodded and backed away. Dumbledore straightened and faced the students once again. "Nitwit, blubber, oddment, tweak?" he uttered in a timid voice.
The students looked around at each other, nodding and making noises of general assent.
"Wonderful. Now, I had some very touching remarks prepared about turning on lights in the dark, and warnings about dementors, but they weren't that important anyway, and I'm cutting into Hermione's screen time. I'm hungry. Let's eat."