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Summary: Sick of clichés? Or perhaps you're sick of parodies too? Too bad, here's another one! Mysterious summer transformations, personality disorders, abortion, marriage, instant messaging, it's all here! Please Review.

Okay, this fic pokes fun at all the clichés that I've read over the years. This isn't done out of annoyance and I'm not being mean (I love all fanfics!), it's just a bit of fun. No offence is meant, and if I've copied anyone's work, then it is purely accidental and I offer my sincere apologies.

Do I even need to mention that everyone is seriously OOC?

Chapter One

The Mysterious Summer Transformation.

Hermione Granger settled herself further down into her bed with her favourite book, Hogwarts: A History, using her bushy hair as a pillow. It was the night before Hermione was due to start a new year at Hogwarts, and as usual her stomach bubbled with excitement at the thought of spending endless hours in the library pouring over books.

Mrs Granger strolled in, a mug of cocoa clasped in her hands. Smiling at her daughter, she set the mug down on Hermione's bedside table. She reached out and stroked Hermione's hair.

"Don't be up too late, sweety, it's already past your bedtime," said Mrs Granger, glancing at the clock which indicated that it was five o' clock in the afternoon.

"Ok mum," said Hermione, flicking a page of her precious book, which she had now read exactly 100,000 times.

Mrs Granger smiled at Hermione once more, then made to move her hand from her daughter's hair – but it wouldn't budge. It was stuck.

After a few minutes of tugging furiously, Mrs Granger admitted defeat, and Hermione, rolling her eyes, flicked her wand and instantly her mother's hand was released.

Mrs Granger muttered goodnight, even though it was still afternoon, and left, not having the heart to tell Hermione that she was in serious need of a hairdresser.

Hermione sighed contentedly, flicking yet another page of her treasured book. She glanced at the clock, which now indicated that it was ten minutes past five, and thought that she really must be getting to bed. She finished her cocoa, reached over and switched off her lamp (despite the fact that sunlight was still blasting through her bedroom window), cuddled her Hogwarts: A History close to her, and was asleep within minutes.

It was within these hours during Hermione's slumber, that a mysterious transformation took place. Hermione's hair, which had been bushy all her life, suddenly, and miraculously, straightened itself, a process that with most bushy haired people could take forever.

Her chest, which had been flat packed when she had gone to sleep, suddenly grew, reducing her nightie (the one with cuddly bunnies on) to nothing but shreds. Her hips, which had been practically non-existent, suddenly shot out and curved, making her look like a giant out of proportion hourglass.

Her lips, which had been chapped and in serious need of attention, suddenly became pink and full, making her look like she had a permanent pout. Her legs grew at least five inches, and were now sticking out the other end of the bed.

But this was not all. Suddenly, Hermione's love of books and school disappeared overnight, only to be replaced with the desperate need to shag everyone in school, including Snape and Dumbledore. Hell, even Flitwick would do.

When Hermione awoke to this new transformation, the first thing she did was celebrate by putting on her most revealing outfit. Problem was, since she was a frumpy bookworm only last night, she realised that she didn't own any sexy clothing, so decided to put on her shredded nightie, charming it to fit her perfectly.

Hermione stared at her books. She snorted, muttered incendio and set them on fire, including Hogwarts: A History, her now ex-favourite book in the world. Amazingly, a new book had appeared on her bedside table entitled: The Karma Sutra.

So, dressed in her new shredded outfit, covered thick in make-up and hips that would put Madame Maxime to shame, Hermione strutted downstairs (nearly tripping over her own legs, which were now so long that Hermione was nearing six-foot five), her bubbling excitement of returning to school now replaced with a desperate need to show off her new look.

Mrs Granger hummed to herself as she placed some bread in the toaster. Mr Granger was seated at the table, reading a newspaper. Mrs Granger heard Hermione approach, and spoke.

"Hermione, dear, would you like some – arrrrrrrrggggggghhhhhh!"

Mrs Granger smashed the plate she had been holding, and Mr Granger glanced up from his paper. His eyes widened. He jumped out of his seat and grabbed a rolling pin.

"Who the hell are you and what have you done with my daughter?" he asked, rolling pin swinging threateningly.

"Omg, lyke, chill daddy," said Hermione, who despite the fact that she was born and raised in Britain, had acquired an American accent overnight.

"Get out of my house, you piece of trash!" yelled Mr Granger, pointing to the door.

"Parents are so last season," said Hermione, and plonked herself down, at the kitchen table. "Give me some toast, bitch."

Mrs Granger moved forward, but Mr Ganger stopped her.

"Don't feed it, Martha, you'll just encourage it."

"W-where's my Hermione? What have you done with her?" shrieked Mrs Granger, waving a hand menacingly at Hermione.

"Okay, mom, let's get two things straight," said Hermione, filing her new, long nails with her wand. "Firstly, you don't own me. Parents are uncool and shouldn't be seen or heard. Secondly, don't call me Hermione. I only answer to Mia, Mya, Mione, Hermy, Hermes, Herpes, Herman, Maya, Mayonnaise, and any other totally cool derivations or abbreviations of my name. Hermione is sooooo totally uncool and totally last season. Got it?"

Mr and Mrs Granger stared at the impostor that was posing as their little Hermione and seated at their kitchen table, eating their food.

"Oh and don't bother giving me a lift to the station, cars are soooo last season," said Hermione, flicking her waist length, sleek, straight, shiny, ironed, streaked, luscious, gorgeous, blah blah blah hair over her shoulder.

Hermione untangled her legs (which took at least ten minutes), got up from the table, and headed upstairs, rummaging through her clothes. She picked up her Head Girl badge and started trying out different places to stick it. Finally deciding to pin it to her ass (note that I said 'ass' and not 'arse', because Hermione is now American), Hermione spun around, admiring herself in the mirror.

"Omg, I'm lyke, so totally hot!" she said, running her hands over her Madame Maxime hips and swinging her ironed hair. It was time to leave for Hogwarts.

Hermione picked up her diary and scribbled away.

Mission: Seduce everyone and everything in Hogwarts, burn all schoolbooks, bully all house elves, burn down library.

Smiling, she snapped the diary shut and gathered all the things she needed for school (make-up, make-up and more make-up, and her Karma Sutra).

Crookshanks meowed loudly from her bed, and Hermione shot him a disgusted look.

"Ewww, fat cats are soooo uncool," she said, and waved her wand, leaving Crookshanks looking like he'd just eaten a giant, hourglass shaped mouse. Hermione smiled, and completed her task by applying blusher and mascara to the struggling cat, whose head had sunk into his hips.

Finally, Hermione was ready to set off.

Hermione strutted down the platform towards the Hogwarts Express, her shredded nightie becoming more and more unravelled with every step she took. She spotted a clump of red hair.

"Omg, Ron!" she shouted, causing the red head to turn around and rush towards.

Hermione wasn't the only one that had faced the wrath of the Mysterious summer transformation.

Ron Weasley, despite the fact that riding around on a broom involves less exercise than using it to sweep the floor, was now muscular, causing his robes to rip in a manner not unlike the incredible hulk.

As for height, Ron now stood at an incredible seven feet tall.

"Mione? Is that really you?"

"Omg, Ron, of course its me! I'm like, totally sexy now. You like?"

Ron eyed Hermione appreciatively, a pool of drool forming at his feet. Suddenly, a boy with newly gelled hair and a lightening shaped scar sauntered over.

Harry Potter, despite the fact that he had worn glasses all his life, miraculously no longer needed them. His hair, which he had always preferred to keep messy, was now sticking up in neat spikes. Harry had always been a short boy, but that had all changed in the summer, when an amazing growth spurt overtook him, leaving him standing at six foot six inches, one inch taller than 'Mione'.

Harry didn't have muscles like the incredible hulk. Harry was the incredible hulk. This was partly due to the fact that Harry had spent a fair amount of time sitting on his ass, or arse, whatever, doing fuck all except looking for a small golden ball. The other cause for Harry the hulk, was his constant mood swings and the need to capitalise every angry word that came out of his mouth.

"Harry! Omg, omg, omg!" squealed Hermione, her constant use of the abbreviation for "oh my god" cutting through the air like a knife through butter.

"Mione I love you," said Ron suddenly, taking Hermione's hand. "Be my girlfriend?"

"I love you too, Mya," said Harry, extending a hand for 'Mya' to take. "I've always loved you, right from the very first moment I saw you, even though you were a bushy haired, bossy know-it-all."

"Cool!" squealed Hermione, pleased that within the timescale of five minutes, she had managed to get two males to fall in love with her.

She took Harry and Ron's hand, and together the Golden Trio, dream team, three musketeers, threesome, tripod, tricycle, triwizard, and whatever other words mean "three", made their way onto the train.

Harry, Ron, and 'Mione' weren't the only ones who had experienced this mysterious summer transformation.

Draco Malfoy, when he had stepped off the train at the end of last year, had hated Mudbloods, was adamant about becoming a death eater, worshipped his father, had worn his hair slicked back, and had about as many muscles as a bowtruckle.

Some of this had changed one day in the summer, when suddenly his gel disappeared, he grew at least six inches, he now hated his father and he had muscles from doing nothing except broom sitting. His skin, which had been pale since birth, was now tanned and the idea of working for old Voldy mouldy shorts now sickened him. No reason was ever found for this. The investigation continues.

Draco pulled up at King's Cross station in his brand new car, despite the fact that wizards didn't drive cars and never would. But Draco just woke up one day and decided he knew everything about muggle motors and decided to go straight out and get himself one.

Draco had also been made Head Boy. This had nothing to do with the fact that Hermione was Head Girl. It was just a coincidence. Honestly.

Draco still detested mudbloods, but that would all change later, when he would catch a glimpse of Hermione's new look and due to the fact that this is the first chapter. And we all know what first chapters do to Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger.

And this is exactly what happened.

Draco stepped into Harry's, Ron's, and 'Maya's' compartment, ready to antagonise them.

"Well, well, well," sneered Draco, pushing his brand new chin length, shiny, white-blonde hair out of his face. "Look who we have here."

"Malfoy?" said Hermione, her eyes wide with shock at Malfoy's new look.

"Hey baby," purred Malfoy. "What's your name?"

"That's Mione, you prick," spat Ron.

"Granger?" said Malfoy, his grey eyes widening.

"You like?" said Hermione, wiggling her chest.

Draco winked, and left, deciding that, despite years of prejudice, and enmity, Hermione would be his.

Yet again, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Draco weren't the only ones who had been taken over by this mysterious transformation. Over the summer, Hogwarts now accepted electricity, and within minutes of entering the Great Hall, Filch had presented every student with a laptop. When everyone was seated, Dumbledore stood up.

"Don't worry about lessons," he said cheerily, "because these laptops are more important. So forget the feast, get to your dorms, and sign on now. Last one to switch their laptop on is a rotten Hippogriff."

And before anyone could say anything, Dumbledore had rushed out of the Great Hall, laptop tucked firmly under his arm.

Next Chapter: The students discover instant messaging, and Hermione receives not so shocking news from her parents.

Thank you for reading and please drop a review.