Pop-Star Dreams
An Embarrassingly Weird Harry Potter Fanfic
A/N: Nothing but the absurd plot is mine.
One day, Harry Potter had a bright idea.
"I know!" he clapped his hands with glee as an astonishingly bright idea popped into his brain. "I shall become a Pop-Star!"
Pleased with his ingenuity, he first decided that he needed a makeover.
For a few moments he stared at himself in a full-length mirror. Then with a sudden and bestial roar he violently tore his glasses off his face and battered them (or rather, attempted to) with a most extraordinary series of curses, hexes and jinxes. Multi-coloured lights flashed all about his room, and by the 5th curse all his furniture were quite wrecked.
"Sectusempra! Crucio! Petrificus Totalus! Avada Kedavra! Imperio! Tantangarella!" he cried, swinging his arms with reckless abandon. As one of his hands was holding his wand, and that hand was attached to one of his arms, the walls and furniture ended up being much more ruined than the unfortunate pair of glasses. This did not bother Harry Potter, however, as constantly missing his target made him oddly euphoric.
After he had succeeded in placing several dents in his glasses as well as reducing his house to a mound of cinders and ash, Harry Potter knew that what he needed now was a cool suit. Fortunately, he knew just the place to get such an outfit. The unfortunate part was that this involved burglary, but that fact did not dampen his spirits one whit. Whistling a merry tune, he left the charred piece of ground where his house once stood, and strode into a busy street, where he was immediately mobbed by hordes of screaming fangirls.
"Harry!" they screamed in adoration. "Let us follow you! Let us help you! Let us assist you in your arduous task!"
Harry immediately assumed a distinct aura of lordliness, and said, with great solemnity,
"I am most apologetic, ladies, but I shall have to embark on this dangerous journey alone. Such peril is not to be faced by the faint-hearted,"
He then strode off, leaving a thousand swooning girls in his wake.
A minute after he had departed from his swooning fans, Harry began to regret embarking upon this journey alone. He was hungry, he was tired and he kept stumbling around and bruising himself due to the absence of his glasses. So it was with great joy that he greeted his best friend, Ron, when he collided into him.
"Ron!" he cried in delight, "my friend, my brother, and my soon-to-be brother-in-law!"
Ron, however, was not very delighted. He was extremely grumpy as he had recently been scolded by his pet balloon for sipping soup from the side of his spoon. After collapsing dramatically on the grass, he flung his arms about wildly and gave an ear- piercing shriek, which was highly reminiscent of a cat being killed in the most horrible fashion imaginable.
"HARRY!" he cried in despair, "I HAVE JUST BEEN SCOLDED BY MY PET BALLOON FOR SIPPING SOUP FROM THE SIDE OF MY SPOON! OH, CRUEL BETRAYAL! HOW COULD MY PET BALLOON ADMONISH ME THUS?"
"But your pet balloon doesn't even speak!" Harry scratched his head in puzzlement.
"IT DOES, IT DOES, IT DOES!" Ron screamed like a petulant child, tears steaming in rivulets down his face.
Harry stared at Ron.
Harry stared ahead.
Harry stared at Ron.
Harry stared ahead.
Harry shrugged his shoulders indifferently,
Harry continued walking.
A/N: Please R&R! Constructive criticism is welcome, but no flames, please!