Disclaimer: I obviously own nothing related to Harry Potter. The only thing I own in this story are the lyrics to the 'Michael the First' song (although they are based on the lyrics to the song 'Henry the Eighth' by Herman's Hermits) and the character Lulu. Which is not much to brag about, trust me.

A/N - This is my second parody, meaning that I have finely honed my parody-writing skills by now and it is written slightly more in the style of Harry Potter than my first one, which I may post here later and relates to absolutely nothing. Anyway, there's language, disturbing statements made by Neville and possibly some sex/drug references. Nothing really scary, but just leting you know in advance. Enjoy!

PART 1

It was early Saturday morning. Awake in his dormitory, Harry rubbed at his eyes and slowly pulled open the hangings. Reaching out blindly, he found his glasses and deposited them on his nose. Moving quietly, so as not to disturb Ron, he went to the foot of his bed and withdrew the clothes he had been wearing yesterday. Beginning to dress, he abruptly realized something was wrong. It was far too quiet.

"Ron?" he called softly. Nothing. Moving towards his friend's bed, Harry threw back the curtains - and discovered Ron wasn't there. "SHIT!" he hollered, accidentally waking up Seamus, Dean, Neville, and Lulu, who wasn't supposed to be in their dormitory at all. "I can't be a SuperHero without a sidekick! It's time for me to go save his ass. By the way, Lulu, where did you put the wet wipes?"

Meanwhile, back at the ranch...

...hideout...

...thing...

...Voldemort was sitting on his throne, gazing down at the newly-awakened-from-being-Stunned Ron, who was staring about blearily.

"SO, Weasley!" he bellowed. "What do you think of my new facelift?"

Ron stared up at Voldemort, completely nonplussed. "Facelifts? Aren't those like...for women?"

"I AM TIRED OF BEING DISCRIMINATED AGAINST!"

"So, uh...is there something you're trying to tell me?" Ron demanded.

"WHO TOLD YOU!" Voldemort roared.

"Told me what?" Ron asked, confused.

"That I'm a cross-dressing woman named Veronica!"

"Er...that is unhealthy," Ron said, eyes bugging out.

"I'll say," agreed Bellatrix, wandering into the room. "He's had more facelifts than Micheal Jackson."

"Who's Micheal Jackson?" Ron ventured to ask.

"I wrote a little song about my good friend Mikey," Voldemort replied. "It goes like this." He began to sing loudly. "I'm Micheal the first, I am, I am. Micheal the first I am, I am. I got a facelift from the surgeon next door, she's given me a facelift seven times before. And all the time I grew whiter, but I didn't give a damn. I'm don't wanna turn into an old man, I'm Micheal the first, I am, I am."

All of a sudden, a box of wet wipes appeared on the floor in front of Ron.

"OHMYGOD! Are they Wet Ones?" Voldemort demanded.

"Yeah."

"Gimme gimme gimme!"

"Yeah, okay..."

There was a period of silence as Voldemort proceeded to lick every single one of the wet wipes. "There, now no one can steal them. I do this to my food, too. It's a dog-eat-dog world out there." He giggled. "As a child, I was always forced to hoarde my food."

"No you weren't."

"I know. I like to make up stories."

"I think that's called being a compulsive liar."

"Really?"

"No."

"Oh. Well, I don't think I am one, then."

"YOU LIE!"

"Do not! 'kay, if you keep this up, you are NOT allowed coming to my birthday party!" Voldemort humphed.

"Oh, there's a tragedy," Ron replied, rolling his eyes.

"It IS! We are going to have a gingerbread house cake thing this year!"

"Old news."

"It is?"

"Yeah. I read it in the tabloids months ago."

"Damn."

Meanwhile, back at the ranch...

...common room...

...thing...

"We need a plan to defeat Voldemort," Harry declared, pacing up and down.

"I've got an idea," Neville said meekly.

"Okay, let's hear it."

"Well..." Neville said hesitantly. "We can lure him out of his lair, then while he's distracted, go in and take Ron back."

"That's a rather stupid idea, considering we haven't any means to lure him out!" Harry said, frowning.

"Oh, but we do," Neville replied.

"Oh yeah?" Harry countered.

"Yeah," Neville responded. "He has a shoe fetish. If we leave a pile of shoes outside, he'll for sure come and check it out."

"How would you know something weird like that?" Dean asked, thereby pronouncing his only line in this story.

"Uh..." Neville flushed red.

"Don't tell me you gave him your shoes!"

"I had no choice!"

"That's kinky, Neville!" Harry groaned.

"No kidding. Gross!" Dean said, making a liar out of me.

"Anyways, let's see if this works. Everybody, gimme your shoes," Harry commanded.

Obediently, Seamus, Dean, Neville, Harry, and Lulu took off their shoes.

"Lulu, you're not part of everybody. Put your shoes back on."

END OF PART 1