Author's Note: This is an odd little fic where everyone is OOC, even the few OCs. It's a parody of just about everything I could think of to parody, a crossover with anything that occurred to me, and it probably indicates a serious mental instability on my part. I own none of these characters, and am only playing with them because they're fun. Rated M for language and sexual content (although it's mostly inferred, not explicit).
Horny Hogwarts
Harry Potter lay back in the Prefect's bathtub, luxuriating in the warm water. Strictly speaking, he shouldn't be here, but hey- he was Harry Fucking Potter, so who was going to get too upset about it? Well, That Bastard Snape probably would, but the very idea of being naked in the same room as That Bastard Snape was almost enough to make Harry hurl.
Harry's hands were in the water in front of him, rubbing something unseen. Harry's head lolled back, mouth slightly open, as his body stiffened and then shuddered. A big smile spread across his face.
A white-blonde head bobbed up from under the water. Malfoy swallowed before asking, "Liked that, did you, Potter?"
"You're getting better, Malfoy," Harry said, running his hands through Malfoy's damp hair. "I remember the first time you did that; thought you were going to bite it off before you finally figured out you have to keep your teeth covered with your lips."
Draco grinned, then suddenly his eyes closed, his head tipped back, his mouth opened, and he stiffened and then shuddered. After he relaxed, a pair of long pointy ears emerged from the water, followed by an ugly head with large eyes.
"Kreacher is thinking it isn't only young master's blood that's pure," the house elf said after swallowing. "Kreacher is happy to serve the young master's every need." Draco laughed.
"Well, you're lacking a certain bit of equipment to serve my every need, Kreacher, but you'll do for some things."
"Kreacher would be happy to have a sex change operation, young master Draco," the pathetic house elf offered.
"Not necessary, Kreacher," Draco said. "That's what Parkinson's for."
"Besides," Harry said, "You are still mine, you know, even if you do suck up to Draco all the time."
"Up, Potter?" Draco said, lifting an eyebrow.
"Up, off, whatever," Harry said, waving a hand dismissively. "Hand me a towel, Kreacher. I'd better get back to the common room and stop Ron and Hermione from fighting about whatever it is they're fighting about this time."
Draco plunged back into the water, swam to the other side and emerged, limp, to grab his own towel. "Good idea, Potter. Wouldn't want the Weasel King to get crowned by the Mudblood."
Harry laughed, finished drying and put on his robes. Waving to Malfoy and Kreacher, he left the Prefect's bathroom and headed for the Gryffyndor common room.
Planning to take one of the many shortcuts, he ducked behind a tapestry and surprised Neville and Luna.
"Oh, hello, Harry," Luna said dreamily. Neville flushed red where he kneeled on the floor, but didn't stop what he was doing. He merely lifted a hand and waved, his mouth and tongue being too busy for any sort of speech. Harry was sort of surprised, and sort of not, to discover Luna's nipple rings had small butterbeer corks hanging from them. After seeing those, he wasn't particularly surprised to see a radish hanging from a third piercing, bumping against Neville's nose.
"Be careful, Harry," Luna said. "I think I saw a Fairy-Winged Orgasma flying around in here." She tensed, began breathing heavily and gasping, and grabbed Neville's head, pushing it hard. "Oooooh, never m-m-mind, Harry, I think I know where it weeeEEENNNTTT!" Her voice rose on the last word, hitting sonic levels well beyond human hearing, but which seemed to attract a small cloud of buzzing little creatures with green wings and purple tails.
Neville finally stood up and it was quite obvious he had nothing on underneath his robe, or at least nothing restrictive. He gave Luna a deep long kiss and, placing his hands on her shoulders, gently turned her around and bent her over slightly. Harry started to turn away as Neville lifted his robe and then stopped, staring in amazement.
"Damn, Neville!" Harry said, his respect for Neville rising (as was Neville himself). "Is that natural, or did you have an Engorgio spell go out of control?" Harry's voice was joking, but awed. Neville blushed.
"All natural, Harry," Neville said. "It used to be my Da's. Gran said since he didn't have a use for it anymore, I might as well have it, so she did some sort of switching spell. Now I've had both my Dad's old wands."
"Well, try not to break this one like you did the last one, OK?" Harry said with a laugh. "Not only would it hurt a lot, but it would be a crime to damage that thing. You two have fun now, and don't do anything I wouldn't do." If they said anything in response as he left, he didn't hear it; from the moans and gasps, he rather suspected they'd already forgotten all about his passing through.
The other end of the "secret" passage came out on the fourth floor near the stairs to Gryffyndor tower. Harry pushed open the portrait and stepped through just in time to see Moaning Myrtle and the Fat Friar passing through one of the walls. The Fat Friar had his arm around Myrtle's shoulders, and was saying something about a special kind of baptism that could only be done by "a Holy Spirit" such as himself.
"I guess today's priests are more traditionalists than I supposed," Harry thought.
As he started up the stairs, a voice behind him called out, "Harry, m'boy. Just the person I wanted to see." Harry turned to see Horace Slughorn waddling down the corridor, floor tiles creaking and cracking as he advanced. With a put-upon sigh, Harry walked back down the stairs.
"Good morning, Professor," Harry said. "What can I do for you?"
"A very important matter, m'boy, very important indeed." When Slughorn reached Harry, he put an arm around the young man's shoulders and pulled him down so he could whisper in Harry's ear.
"Can you tell me- did I remember to put my pants on this morning?" Slughorn asked, blushing slightly. "Hard for me to tell, you know," he said, patting his enormous belly. Harry had a sudden, horrifying vision of a pantsless Slughorn and swore he'd get Hermione to Obliviate it later. Stepping back a little, squinting his eyes so he could barely see, he looked down. Then, he opened his eyes a little more and looked closer.
"Well, Professor," he said, "unless your legs have gone green, it appears you remembered," Harry said, relief flooding through him. As Slughorn thanked him and started to turn away, Harry had a sudden thought. Reluctantly, knowing he was going to regret asking but unable not to, Harry said, "Professor." Slughorn turned. "If you have problems finding your trousers, how do you… erm, I mean, how can you manage… the loo?"
"House elves, m'boy" Slughorn said. "Their long clever fingers are quite good with zips and snaps, and they wipe pretty good, too." Waving, he continued waddling away, floor tiles again protesting.
"TMI," Harry thought, "Way TMI. Gotta see Hermione about that Obliviate spell." He continued up the stairs and approached the portrait of the Fat Lady. "Nymphomania," he said, that being today's password.
"Correct," the Fat Lady said, although she didn't swing open.
"Erm, aren't you supposed to let me in now?"
"Afraid not, dear boy," she said. "New security regulations imposed by the Ministry. In addition to the password, you must also show me your wand." Harry shrugged, reached into a pocket and pulled out his wand. "Not that one, dear," the corpulent portrait said with a leer. Harry's eyes widened.
"You mean, you want me to…"
"That's right," she said with an evil cackle. "Those are the new regulations- you can either drop trow or drop out."
Red-faced and reluctant, Harry nonetheless opened his robe and then his fly. The Fat Lady snickered. "That's it? Are you sure you aren't a Hufflepuff, dear?"
Tucking himself back in angrily, Harry said, "Hey, it gets big enough when it needs to be. I'm just tired, that's all."
Still snickering, the Fat Lady swung open. Still grumbling, Harry stepped through. He was immediately tackled by a squealing and excited Romilda Vane, who was wearing only a plain white bra ("A-cup," thought Harry, "and even then I can see tissues") and a pair of bright neon green panties with "Potter's Bitch" in magically glowing yellow letters on the crotch. She grabbed him around the neck, glued her lips to his and started humping his leg, while doing her best to force her tongue down his throat.
After struggling a bit to break her death grip, Harry finally managed to push Romilda away, "accidentally" missing her shoulders and grasping her a bit lower. ("Yep, half a box at least," he thought.) "Geroff! What the hell was that all about?" At the sound of hysterical laughter, he turned to see Ginny, Hermione, Lavender, Parvati and a couple of younger girls he didn't know. They were sitting on couches, chairs and the floor in front of the fireplace, laughing hysterically.
"We're playing Truth or Dare, Harry," Parvati finally managed to choke out. "And Romilda's dare was to strip down and snog the hell out of the next person to walk through the portrait hole."
"And I'm so glad it was you, Harry," Romilda gushed, grabbing for him again. He finally pulled out his wand and hit her with a Petrify charm, but not before his pant leg was soaked. Grumbling again, he went up the stairs to the boys' dormitory and the room he shared with Neville, Seamus, Dean and Ron.
Only Dean and Seamus were there, both naked and "sword fighting" across the floor, over the beds and finally out into the hallway. Harry just shook his head; wouldn't Seamus ever learn his "rapier" would never beat Dean's "Claymore"? I mean, talk about a two-handed "sword…." "Honestly," he thought, "those two can be so immature at times." Although, he had to admit he understood what Ginny had seen in Dean.
Harry dug through his trunk, tossing things on the bed- his Sneakoscope (still wrapped in a pair of Uncle Vernon's socks), underwear (including a red thong with a Gryffyndor lion on the crotch, a gift from Ginny last Christmas), ink bottles, a vibrating latex vagina with dead batteries (a gift from Ron last Christmas), old quills, a bottle of Long and Strong potion (a gift from Hermione last Christmas, and one which still annoyed Harry), and a variety of other things. But he couldn't find the one thing he needed- his Transfiguration textbook, so he could do his homework.
"Damn," Harry swore, just as Dean and Seamus came back into the room, followed by Ron. The sword fight had apparently come to a successful conclusion, as both were looking much more relaxed and both grabbed Wet Wipes to clean themselves off.
"Hullo, Harry," Ron said. "Fancy a game of Wizard Chess before dinner?"
"Sure, Ron," Harry said. "Can't find my Transfiguration book, so I guess McGonagall's homework will have to wait anyway. I don't know why I keep playing against you, though- we've played 3,549 games and I've only ever beaten you once. And that was only because you'd been into Fred and George's stash of Firewhiskey when they weren't looking." Ron grinned.
"It wasn't just the Firewhiskey," he said. "Hermione and Ginny were snogging on the couch behind you, and you know how much I like femme slash."
"Damn, Ron!" Harry cried. "Hermione and Ginny were getting it on and you didn't tell me? You suck, you bastard!" Ron's grin just got bigger.
"Oh, it was more than just snogging, mate," Ron said. "But what's the big deal? Just ask 'em to put on a repeat performance for you. You know what an exhibitionist Ginny is, and Hermione's always horny. I mean, the two of 'em shared a room all summer. You didn't really believe Hermione's story that the smell was because they were cleaning fish, did you?"
"You mean they weren't?"
Ron shook his head in disgust. "Harry, are you sure you're not a Hufflepuff? I mean, you've got to quit worrying so much about You-Know-Who and focus on a little fun here."
"Yeah, Harry," Seamus said. Harry turned to look, and saw that Seamus was just putting on his school robes over a pair of black pleather shorts and a pink bustier glittering with rhinestones. "Dean and I are heading to a meeting of the Globstones Club, why don't you come along?"
"Globstones? Don't you mean Gobstones?" Harry asked. Dean just rolled his eyes.
"No, Harry, it's a club where the guys line up stones and shoot globs of… oh, never mind." Seamus said. "Maybe we should start calling you the Boy Who Lived Like a Monk." With a cheeky grin, he and Dean left. Ron grabbed his chess set, and he and Harry went down to the Common Room. The girls were still playing Truth or Dare, but no one had bothered to unfreeze Romilda. Colin Creevey had pulled off her panties and was now dancing around, wearing them on his head. His brother, Dennis, was pulling tissues out of her bra and rubbing them all over his face before tossing them in the fire.
They took a seat under a picture of two elderly wizards doing something bizarre and unspeakable to a hippogriff and set up the pieces. Harry took white, and used a standard Queen's pawn opening. Four moves later, Ron took his first piece, pawn takes pawn. Instead of Ron's black pawn smashing Harry's white one, as would happen with a normal Wizard's chess set, Ron's pawn buggered Harry's then sent him off the board, rubbing his sore back side.
Half an hour later, Harry realized he was trapped and had lost yet again, so he tipped his King over to indicate his resignation. Ron's pieces immediately jumped on Harry's king, who began squealing in delight.
"Well, that's it then," Harry said. "Lost another one to the Weasely Chess King."
"Fancy another then?"
"Nah, mate, I've had enough for now," Harry said. "Think I'll go try finding my Transfiguration book again, and get to work on that assignment from McGonagall."
Harry headed for the portrait hole, declining Dennis's offer of a tissue but grabbing a handful of Romilda's butt in passing, just 'cause. As the Fat Lady swung shut behind him, there was a loud crack and Harry found himself facing the oddest looking house elf he'd ever seen. His ears and eyes were smaller than a normal house elf's and instead of filthy rags, he was wearing a floor-length robe. He eyed Harry thoughtfully, displaying none of the subservience normal to a house elf.
"Unusual, you are," the strange elf said. "The force is strong in you. Would you like some proper training, young Jedi? I mean, young wizard?"
"Erm, no thanks," Harry said. "I'm trying to find my textbook so I can pretend to do my homework and then have Hermione finish it for me."
"There is no try," the strange elf said, "there is only do. Either do or do not. Do-be-do-be-do."
"Um, right. Sure. OK. Gotta go. See you." Harry said, hurrying off. What a strange little creature, he thought; must be a friend of Dobby's.
Harry decided to go see if he'd left his Transfiguration text at Hagrid's; he'd been visiting there earlier, and perhaps he'd accidentally left it behind in his hurry to escape the rock cakes Hagrid had been trying to press on him. As he crossed the grounds, he looked over toward the lake and noticed the giant squid was sculling aimlessly back and forth across the surface. It waved one tentacle at Harry, who waved back.
Hagrid was in the middle of a Care of Magical Creatures class with some second years, but stopped to wave at Harry. Harry went into the little hut, pushed Fang off when he tried to hump Harry's leg, and looked around for his book. He didn't find it, but he did find a rather interesting magazine called "Giant Women and the Normal Men Who Love Them: A Guide to How the Hell Do They Manage to Do It?" It was full of pictures, most of which Harry was both fascinated and repulsed by.
As he stepped out of the cabin, Hagrid was pointing to a small yellow creature with big orange cheeks and a tail shaped rather like Harry's lightning bolt scar.
"Now, tuh thing tuh remember abou' these critters is they can be right touchy," Hagrid was saying, as he grabbed it by the scruff of the neck. The creature emitted a loud shrill cry of "Pika! Pika!" then hit Hagrid with a jolt of high-voltage electricity. Hagrid's hair, bushy in the best of circumstances, stood out like a dandelion about to seed, but he gave a small satisfied smile and murmured, "Oh, yeah, tha' was good." Louder, he said, "Now, these creatures don' take much care, in fact they seem ta feed themselves. They're not really dangerous, either, but they're annoyin' as all get out. I bet Harry knows what to do with one o' these, dontcha, Harry?"
"Of course, Hagrid," Harry said. He pulled out his wand and pointed it at the little yellow bastard. "Noja Panamation." With an ascending cry of "Pika! Pika! Pika shi…" the little creature dissolved into a small yellow puddle.
"Ver' good, Harry," Hagrid said. "Now, the rest of ye, take one o' these li'l red and white balls and open 'em up, see, then…"
Harry left Hagrid to the rest of his lesson, and went around back to Hagrid's garden to say hello to Buckbeak. Buckbeak was busy though; a large yellow creature covered in feathers, with a long neck and a rather insipid expression on his face, stood behind Buckbeak thrusting away. Another creature, rather rotund and covered in blue fur, sat and watched them while devouring massive handfuls of cookies. He had atrocious manners; most of the cookies were falling in bits to the ground, where a small creature in red fur was shoving them up his nose and giggling, "Oh! That tickles." As the bird thing pulled out and squirted all over Buckbeak's haunches, Harry couldn't help thinking, "Wow! That's a big bird!"
He headed back for the castle. About halfway there, a large black rat burst out of the forest. It was dressed in red robes, had two huge round ears, and was wearing a tall cone-shaped black hat covered with magical symbols. It was being pursued by a covey of broomsticks carrying pails of water, which they were attempting to throw at him. One broom finally managed to splash him, and the rat-thing immediately dissolved, screaming, "I'm melting! I'm melting!"
As he neared the castle door, Harry became aware of another person, a young woman, also approaching Hogwarts. His jaw dropped. She was absolutely the most beautiful person he'd ever seen in his life. Her titian hair hung down her back to her waist, long and flowing and slightly curly. The robes she wore were cut from some fine material, possibly silk. Getting a little closer, he noticed she had bright green eyes (the same shade as his, but glowing), and full moist lips, red without the need for lipstick.
"Erm, hello there," Harry said. "I don't think I've seen you before. My name's Harry Potter."
"Hello, Harry," she said, in a warm sultry voice that sent shivers down his back and quivers through his groin. "I'm a transfer student from America. My name is Celeste Ashley Autumn Maria Suzanne Black Malfoy Potter, and I'm your second cousin twice removed on your grandfather's brother's nephew's side. And I love you. Oh, and Draco too, even though I haven't even met him yet."
"You're gorgeous," Harry panted (although he really wanted to be depanted). "You're absolutely wonderful, adorable, loving, warm, kind to animals and small children, humorous, and scintillating, even though I never remember what 'scintillating' means and have to look it up in the dictionary. I love you. Will you marry me and have my children? Oh, and maybe use the incredible powers I know are yours to command to help me kill Voldemort?"
"Of course, Harry," she said, tossing her head slightly, which caused her long flowing hair to billow out behind her like a pennant waving in a breeze.
"Oh, for heaven's sake," a disgusted voice said behind Harry. "Marisu Begone!"
Hermione's spell hit Celeste in the chest, and she dwindled, becoming a 13-year-old girl with scraggly dishwater blonde hair, a figure you could slice bread with, acne that made Marietta Edgecombe look unblemished, and wearing torn blue jeans and a Jim Morrison T-shirt. She wailed and fled, running out the gates and all the way to Edinburgh, where she caught the first plane back to the US and her home in Peoria, Illinois.
"Honestly, Harry, those things are worse than Veelas," Hermione said.
"No kidding. Thanks, Hermione. You saved me again."
"No problem, Harry. How about a quick shag? Ron's busy playing chess, Ginny's on a quest to lick Romilda from head to toe, and Lavender can't find her strap-on."
"I'd like to, Hermione, but I have to find my Transfiguration textbook, so I can do that stupid assignment McGonagall gave us. Maybe later?" he said.
"Oh, that assignment was easy. I only had to look in 23 books to get all the right answers, and I managed to do it in less than 79 feet of parchment. It was simple. You want to copy mine?" she asked. "That way we could shag right away. I'm horny, and the batteries in my vibrator are dead."
"No thanks, Hermione," Harry answered. "You know I don't really like copying your homework. I don't think I learn anything that way, and I'm just getting a grade I don't deserve. I hate feeling like that."
"Whatever, Harry," Hermione said, shrugging. "You do realize that without me, you'd have flunked out in your second year, right?"
"Yeah, I know," Harry said, also with a shrug. "But Dumbledore probably would've made the teachers pass me anyway, just 'cause he needs me against Lord Moldy Shorts. I'm Harry Fucking Potter, remember? But just to say thanks anyway…" He dropped to his knees, flipped Hermione's skirt up (no need to remove her panties; she wasn't wearing any) and proceeded to give her a tongue lashing that should keep her satisfied until Ron got done playing chess. Her high-pitched squeals caused a flock of Nargles to tear madly out of the Owlery, the Thestrals in the forest to stampede, and Luna (still up in the secret passage with Neville) to actually look up and say, "Huh?" As she reached her peak, a flock of 100 mad attack canaries came flying out of her wand, flew into the forest, and crapped all over Grawp.
As Hermione lay on the ground panting for breath, Harry re-entered the castle in his quest for his Transfiguration book. His next stop was Firenze's classroom, which was nearby; perhaps he'd left it in there.
The classroom was empty of any textbooks, although Firenze was there with Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown. They were putting on a show that would've cost an observer 100 in a Mexican cantina, and Harry watched interestedly for a few minutes- he wasn't even aware it was possible to do that, and his respect for Lavender went up several notches. At least, his respect for her flexibility did.
He left the classroom, more puzzled than ever about where he could have left that Transfiguration textbook. "Think, Harry, think," he said to himself. "When was the last time you saw it?" The last time he clearly remembered having it was in the Transfiguration classroom itself. McGonagall had assigned the homework, and he had written it down, stuck the note in the textbook, then shoved the textbook into his bag. But it wasn't in his bag anymore, so where could he have left it?
After Transfiguration, he'd gone on to Potions with That Bastard Snape. He hadn't pulled it out in there, but he had removed his Potions book so maybe the Transfiguration text had fallen out then? He dreaded the idea of visiting That Bastard Snape's classroom, on the off chance that That Bastard Snape would be there. But he didn't have any choice; he had to do that homework, and it was the next logical place to look.
The trip down to the dungeon classroom was routine. Two seventh year Hufflepuffs, dressed in yellow-and-black bustiers and striped pants, were wearing halters and being led around by two Slytherins wearing crotchless green-and-silver teddies. Blaise Zabini was painting on a wall: "I'm a GUY, dammit! Can't those fanfic authors read? It says so right in HBP." As Harry passed one of the paintings, he noticed Sir Cadogan buggering a small camel, while a monk with a large tankard of wine watched and fondled himself.
The door to That Bastard Snape's classroom was open, and Harry peeked in before entering. It was empty, but the door to That Bastard Snape's office was slightly ajar. Harry crept in quietly and found his Transfiguration textbook laying on the floor near where he'd sat. Odd crooning noises came from That Bastard Snape's office and, against his better judgment, Harry couldn't resist sneaking over to peek in. He immediately regretted it.
That Bastard Snape was wearing formal dress robes, and pouring tea into a couple of fine china cups. Seated at his desk was a plastic love doll, wearing a red wig. Its eyes had been colored over with a green marker, and there was a Gryffyndor emblem crudely painted on its left breast. But it was what That Bastard Snape was saying that turned Harry's stomach.
"More tea, Lily my love? You've hardly touched the first one," That Bastard Snape crooned. "And I've baked some lovely biscuits for you. Chocolate chip, your favorite. What's that? You'd like to skip the tea and get right to it? Oh, you're such a tease, my dear."
Fighting down the impulse to gag, Harry escaped from the classroom, reeling and staggering at the images flashing through his mind.
He was still in a daze when he re-entered the Gryffyndor common room a few minutes later. Dennis had finished unstuffing Romilda's bra, and was drawing on her now-naked body with a set of marking pens and oil paints. Colin was walking around with her panties hanging from his little head this time, stopping every now and then to twitch and make the panties bounce up and down.
Harry took pity on Romilda and released her from the Petrify charm, and she immediately started chasing Dennis around the common room, screaming, "I'm going to chop it OFF, you little…" but Harry ignored the rest of her comments and threats and went up to his dorm.
Once there, he opened his long-lost textbook and took out the slip of parchment on which he'd written his assignment. "You've been set up with a blind date. Your blind date turns out to look like a cross between a house elf and a mountain troll. Describe the spell and the wand movements you would use to Transfigure your blind date into something you wouldn't be embarrassed about being seen with in public. Be specific as to hair style and color, eye color, facial features, body alterations, etc. Note: Simply conjuring a paper bag over his/her head is not acceptable."
Harry thought for a while, absentmindedly scratching his chin with his quill (and turning it black, forgetting there was ink on the quill). He placed a piece of parchment on the textbook and began to write, the quill slowly scritching and scratching across the paper.
Sixteen hours later, Harry completed his assignment. His 12 inches of parchment would, so he supposed, transform his date into a svelte, titian-haired beauty who resembled the Mary Sue he'd met earlier. (In truth, though, if he'd actually used the spells as described, she'd have wound up looking more like Millicent Bulstrode.) Relieved, he lay back and promptly fell asleep.
Ron, Seamus, Dean and Neville came in a short time later and, seeing Harry asleep, grabbed shaving cream and markers, Petrified him, stripped his clothes off and went to work. Neville noticed Harry's homework assignment, and promptly began performing the spells it listed. Harry did indeed wind up looking like a naked Millicent Bulstrode, and the other four boys immediately ran out of the room.
Some sights are just too horrible to contemplate.