Written for the Daily Prophet Competition in Rounds 8 and 9 of the QLFC. The prompt was crack!fics, so of course I had to attempt this. Is this crack-y enough? I hope so.

Word count is exactly 500, according to Word.

"Hey Harry," Ron said.

"What?" Harry looked up from where he was moping. Moping was his all-time job.

"Want to pretend the world is ending?"

"It already is, Ron," Harry shoved his glasses farther up his nose. That was professional, right? He liked being professional. "I don't see the point."

"You know, perfecting our screams of 'THE WHOLE WORLD'S GOING TO HELL' and all that. After months of living in a tent, the least we could do is die in style. Right, Hermione?"

"Yes. Uh huh. Hmm...what did you say? The whole world's going to hell? For the love of Merlin! Will you please stop trying to be so pessimistic? Yes, I know that this world is messed up but I am trying to not go crazy! And if I think about this whole messed up situation even more than I have to... and yes, I know that I am considered a know-it-all and there's nothing wrong about reading a lot of books or knowing the answers to a lot of the professors' questions- but, really! That doesn't mean that I am careless with my mental health!"

"…" Harry said.

"Wow Hermione, you should be a professional rant-person. Like…you could yell about mental health and stuff and people would actually listen for once!"

"I'm being bloody serious!"

"…" Ron replied.

"Your language has shocked Ron to the point of speechlessness," Harry announced. He felt very professional. For added professional-ness, he took out a tie and attempted to put it on.

"Did no one ever teach you how to tie a tie?" Ron asked, annoyance winning over shock.

"Um…I think Dudley did once. But I don't think he did it correctly, because it felt like he was choking me." Harry said, thinking very hard about his past. His past was why he moped. But moping wasn't very professional in social settings, so Harry tried not to look like he was depressed.

"Stop angsting, Harry," Hermione demanded. "Depression is not good for mental health." Hermione was a mental health advocate. Her goal was to bring mental health awareness to the Wizarding world.

"I can do what I want, Hermione!" Harry shot back. He felt even more depressed, because Hermione was more professional than he was.

"You'll never be professional without a goal, Harry," Hermione snapped. Harry cried.

"Stop, my brain is melting," Ron mumbled. Harry agreed, but only in his head.

"It's not my fault you lesser creatures are incapable of the intelligence we higher-level creatures possess," Hermione growled, and her voice sounded inhuman.

"You sound like you're not human," Ron laughed.

"I agree with Ronald," Harry said, because it sounded professional.

"THAT'S BECAUSE I'M NOT!" Hermione screeched. Her voice sounded like a perfect three-part harmony. Hah, a three-part Hermione. She clapped a hand over her mouth.

"Boys, you will forget this conversation ever happened," Three-part Hermione commanded. She clapped once, and the sound was like a motorcycle exploding. Harry and Ron forgot everything they had just heard.

And that was that.