Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter
Warning: BAD CRACK--- My first crackfic or attempt at writing humor. Please review, especially if you're interested in more of this ungodly filth.
Harry climbed the stairs to Dumbledore's office, bracing himself for the meeting he suspected would prepare him for his final confrontation with Voldemort.
"Lemon drop?" The wise old wizard shoved the candy dish at Harry with enough force to make the boy flinch back, afraid the bowl would be smashed against his face.
"No thank you." He tried to sound unfazed.
"Very well." the Headmaster set the dish down on his desk and sat down across from Harry. The boy watched with fascinated admiration as the man grabbed a large handful of the hard candies and stuffed them unceremoniously into his mouth, ignoring the couple that fell back out and affixed themselves to his beard.
"Sir…" Harry began tentatively, "You wanted to speak with me?"
"Umph humph." The garbled words were accompanied by a spray of syrupy sunshine yellow spittle. Harry cleaned the sticky substance off of his glasses, smiling at the brilliant man's eccentricity. He decided to let Dumbledore finish his candy before asking further questions.
After five minutes of disgusting slurping, lip smacking, and the delighted wriggling of grey eyebrows, the headmaster leaned forward, opened his mouth and whacked himself soundly on the back of his head, dislodging the conglomerated mass of candy. It landed with a sharp SPLAT on a pile of important looking papers stacked on the desk.
"Have you ever wondered, Harry, why I am the only man the Dark Lord fears?"
"Because you're so powerful?"
Dumbledore chuckled. "Ah, to be young again. No, Harry. He fears me because I, as the kids would say, "blow his freaking mind."
Harry refrained from mentioning that he did not, in fact, know any kids that said that. His curiosity was definitely peaked now. "May I ask how you do that, sir?"
"You may do more than that, Harry. You may join me."
"Join you, sir? Can you teach me how to wield the power you do?"
"Ah, Harry. This cannot be taught. I can, however, give you some."
"Give me some, sir?"
Dumbledore smiled, eyes twinkling madly, and pulled a very large and colorful glass pipe out from under the desk. It looked suspiciously like the bong Dudley used to get high with his friends.
"Professor?"
A tiny flame had popped out of the tip of Dumbledore's finger. He was holding it to the pipe and inhaling deeply. He then offered the pipe to Harry.
"Sir?"
The wise old wizard held up one finger, signaling for Harry to wait.
"Go ahead Harry. I have plenty more if we run out."
"Is that- is that marijuana."
"Heavens, no." Harry let out a sigh of relief. A premature one, apparently. "My personal stash certainly far surpasses muggle weed."
"I don't think I should-"
"This is war, Harry. Do as I tell you."
Well, Harry thought, this has to be a dream, so I might as well.
"Alright, Harry," the old man finally said to the boy who could barely hear over his own giggles, "Voldemort will be here soon."
"What? Shit! Fuck! What?"
"Yes. He is coming here tonight, to kill me. He is coming alone. We must use psychological warfare to defeat him."
"Bloody hell!" Harry tumbled clumsily out of his chair to hide under the desk.
"Lemon drop?" The hand holding the candy dish reached down to shove it, again, in Harry's face.
Harry bit his hand. Dumbledore giggled.
"Psychological warfare? We're stoned, you dumb bastard! We're gonna fucking die!"
"Have faith, my boy. And eat this lemon drop. It's special."
Harry's mouth was awfully dry, so he popped the candy in his mouth. It fizzled and dissolved immediately. Harry started to feel even more peculiar.
"Sir?" Harry was starting to get very worried indeed. "Sir, why is that platypus winking at me? My toes are dancing. What the fuck?"
"Any moment now." The headmaster said, wearing a mysterious and slightly deranged smile.
The window shattered and a dark cloaked figure crashed into the room. He stood, radiating raw power.
"Good evening, Tom."
"Shut up, old man." The dark cloak fell to the floor, revealing the slender man with the flat, white face and gleaming red eyes.
"Lemon drop?"
"I'm going to kill you, you fool!" Harry kept hiding under the desk, chewing on his robes. Suddenly, a very odd thought occurred to him. Voldemort was kind of sexy. He crawled out.
"Potter!" The dark lord hissed, delighted.
"You're much better looking than a platypus." Harry knew his pickup lines were a little rusty, but he thought he was doing alright.
"What?" the dark lord spat.
"Er, not to say you're fat. I mean… Oh dear. Would you like to go out for ravioli and a boil lancing sometime? I know this great dermatologist…"
Voldemort wasn't smiling anymore. "What is the meaning of this? Have you gone mad?"
Harry looked puzzled. "No, I don't think I'm angry at all at the moment. Why, have you?"
The dark lord was banging his head against the wall and muttering. Maybe this was his big chance. Harry scrambled across the floor and mounted the tall, slender man, and started fiercely humping his leg.
A scream of inhuman terror escaped the slit-like mouth and sharp nails clawed bleeding gashes in the stark white face. Harry stood and slapped the man, splashing around in the blood and giggling.
"Stop! Stop this at once!" His voice had reached a pitch normally only achieved by little girls throwing tantrums.
"Stop! Mop! Flop! Top! Drop! Fap!" Harry's grin widened. He pulled out his cock and started masturbating furiously, crying "Fap fap fap fap! Fap fap fap fap fap fap fap! Fap!"
"Ahhh, my eyes!" the snake-man hissed. "Enough!" he bellowed, pulling out his wand. Harry felt an instant of vague fear, but was overcome by the sudden urge to break-dance. Oh, he'd be sore in the morning.
Voldemort pointed the wand to his temple.
Dumbledore nodded at him. "Some things, my boy," he said sagely, "cannot be unseen."
"AVADA KEDAVDRA"
Harry's scar had an orgasm as Voldemort's lifeless form hit the floor.
"Lemon drop, Harry?"
"Please."