A/N: Hi! If you didn't figure it out before, this story follows the movie version of the Goblet of Fire, which I hate like Snape hates Harry. I make fun of a lot of things in the movie, so if that offends you, I apologize. That's not what I'm aiming to do. With that said, here comes the story!
WARNING: If you adore the fourth Harry Potter movie, I would suggest you don't read the following unless you have an open mind and a sense of humor.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to the Harry Potter book series or the Harry Potter movies. Obviously.
A dusty, dirty, and somehow fake-looking pile of skulls lay rotting in an old Muggle cemetery. Why they were out in the open, nobody seems to know. ("dramatic effect.")
Suddenly, out of the mouth of one of the skulls (which conveniently happened to be open) slithered a gigantic, CGI-animated snake! It slipped through the graveyard, hissing something in Parseltongue that sounded remarkably like what Harry had said to the snake in the second movie. It passed by a huge tombstone decorated with a winged statue of the Grim Reaper.
Hmmm, wondered the snake as it passed, Is it just me or doesn't the statue make the sinister nature that this graveyard will have later on in the movie blatantly obvious? Oh well, good thing I'm not the set designer.
And it moved on, letting the audience's attention wander past the Reaper's head and on into the sky where they noticed two words floating in the air: Harry Potter. Suddenly, the air underneath the words shimmered, revealing the rest of the title. It now read: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Satire. The floating title moved closer and closer and suddenly… It stopped and two vertical bars appeared in the top right corner next the word Pause.
"Now wait just a minute!" protested Ron Weasley, who was holding the DVD remote, "I thought we were watching the Goblet of Fire, not Satire!"
"No Ron," sighed Hermione Granger impatiently from the couch, "We watched that last weekend. This is a spoof off of the Goblet of Fire written by a crazed fan of the book who has way too much time on her hands."
"Why are we watching it then?" asked Ron.
"Because the writer's making us," said Hermione, "Someone has to fill the readers in on what's happening, which would be me. Someone has to ask all the obvious questions, which would be you. And of course someone has to provide a little humor, which would be Harry."
"Where is Harry anyway?" asked Ron.
"He'll pop in randomly whenever the story's getting a little too boring," said Hermione confidently.
"Okay, sounds good to me," said Ron, sitting back on the couch and pushing the play button.
The title resumed where it had left off, getting bigger and bigger until the camera angle passed underneath and the first scene began.
Several strange looking statues came into view, overlooking a huge mansion. An electric-looking light blazed in an upper story window before the scene changed again. An old man named Frank Bryce (who lived in an old house in an old neighborhood) lit an old burner and set an old kettle upon it. He then became completely annoyed with the word, 'old' and decided he liked 'ancient' much better. He stretched his arms and shook his hands about meaninglessly (muscle spasms, you see), then started getting out some tea making supplies. He stopped what he was doing and asked, "Uh, shouldn't I be refilling my hot water bottle instead?"
"It doesn't matter," snapped a voice from overhead.
"But where's my motivation for making a cup of tea in the middle of the night?" asked Frank, "Nobody makes a cup of tea at midnight!"
"They do now," said the voice, obviously irritated, "Now get on with the scene!"
"Okay, okay," muttered Frank. He looked out the window and noticed the strange light in the upper story of the mansion.
Hmm, looks electric, he thought and slapped his tea bag down with a display of unprovoked annoyance. (Those bloody muscle spasms!) He took his keys off their hook, grabbed his flashlight, and walked to the back door of the mansion. Once there, he pushed open the door, realizing the people who broke in must've left it unlocked. Either that or the director wanted to save five seconds of film showing him unlocking the door.
He walked inside, his flashlight showing the ample amount of dust and cobwebs coated over every surface available. He walked shakily up the stairs while eerie music played, making Frank nervous. He knew something bad was about to happen, but he had to keep walking. Sweat slid down his cheek and dripped off his nose as he struggled to stop, but he couldn't do it. Something was making him keep walking. He strained his muscles to the breaking point, fighting against the invisible force pulling him onward. Something sinister was controlling his every move and making him keep to the movie plot. Why couldn't he control himself? What was this new horror? And then he remembered…he had signed a binding movie contract. (Dun, dun, dun! Supply necessary flashes of lightning.)
Suddenly, he heard voices conversing in the room where the light was coming from. He turned off his flashlight and tried to creep quietly up the stairs. The voice currently speaking sounded weak and very old. No, not old, thought Frank, It sounded ancient. Frank could only make out a few odd words due to the voice's heavy British accent and the raspy way whoever it was was speaking: "…Wormtail, as I recall…" Beyond that, Frank couldn't understand anything more.
As he crept up the stairs, the last step creaked loudly, but the men within the room didn't notice. Frank stepped forward cautiously, the voices becoming clearer with every step.
"My Lord Voldemort," another man was saying hesitantly, "I only meant…perhaps if we were to do it without the boy…"
"No!" rasped the first voice, "The boy is everything." He trailed off and started coughing violently.
Then he said, "Wait. Hold up a moment. Wormtail, did you just call me…Voldemort?!" His voice was suddenly much stronger, more threatening, and colder.
"It-It's in the script!" whimpered Wormtail.
"It is?" asked Voldemort in surprise.
"Y-yes, Master," answered Wormtail, holding out a scriptbook open to the first scene, "See?"
"Ah, so it is," said Voldemort, "I guess I'll have to let that one pass."
"Get back to the scene!" shrieked the strange overhead voice, "And Voldemort, get your voice back to normal! You're supposed to sound like you're dying!"
"But how am I supposed to be at all threatening when I sound like I'm about to have a coughing fit?"
"Don't ask questions," snapped the voice.
"Who are you, anyway?" asked Voldemort suspiciously.
"I'm the unspoken narrator," said the voice smugly.
"You're speaking now," pointed out Wormtail.
"Silence! Get back to the scene!" thundered the unspoken narrator. Wormtail cowered and whimpered in fright. Then he moved aside and another man crouched beside Voldemort's chair, revealing the source of the light: an electric lamp.
"I knew it!" cried Frank triumphantly, "It is electric! Wait, isn't it supposed to be a fire?"
"It doesn't matter," said the unspoken narrator in irritation.
"But how does a lamp in a house that's been empty for fifty years still work?" asked Frank, "It's logically impossible. And isn't Voldemort the leader of an organization that despises Muggles and everything connected to them? Why would he want to use it? Or even know how to?"
"Enough!" boomed the unspoken narrator, now accompanied by a clap of thunder, "Back to the scene!"
Everyone turned his attention back to the new character (who was supposed to Bartemius Crouch, Jr., though strangely enough, no members of the audience Harry, Ron, and Hermione recognized him). He said, "I will not disappoint you, My Lord."
"Good," said Voldemort, "Wait…why are you in this scene? Shouldn't you be revealed later on? Doesn't it ruin all the suspense…not to mention anger all the already mentally unstable diehard fans of the book?"
"Well, yes," said the man uneasily, "But it saves tons of time and explanation this way."
"But it ruins the whole plot!" protested Voldemort, "Does this mean I can't talk about Bertha Jorkins at all? Or repeat my whole spiel about why we must use Harry Potter for the plan to work? I can't even question Wormtail's loyalty?"
"I'm afraid not," replied the man.
"Damn," said Voldemort, "Wait, isn't your hair supposed to be straw colored?"
"For the last time!" boomed the unspoken narrator, "Get on with the bloody scene! No more interruptions!"
"We're getting to it!" said the man who was supposedly Barty Crouch, Jr.
By this time, the CGI-animated snake was just creeping by Frank's feet, making Frank jump and move away. Voldemort spoke to the snake in Parseltongue. For some reason, the conversation sounded exactly like Harry's discussion with the snake in the second movie and the snake's speech at the beginning of the fourth movie. (Notice a pattern?)
"Nagini has interesting news," wheezed Voldemort, "she says the set designer made the Riddle house and the graveyard where they're buried into one set to save budget money. She also thinks, according to her excellent designer taste, that the statue of the Grim Reaper next to Tom Riddle's grave is a little preposterous."
There was a moment of silence, in which Wormtail and the man who was supposed to be Barty Crouch, Jr. looked at Voldemort expectantly, as if waiting for something else while Voldemort stared off into space and hummed a tune that sounded strangely like the Hogwarts school theme song.
"Did she say anything else, My Lord?" asked Wormtail hesitantly.
Voldemort seemed to be in thought for a moment before saying, "Oh, and the old Muggle caretaker is standing just outside the door. Stand aside, Wormtail, so I can give our guest a proper greeting."
Wormtail opened the door a bit wider then, forgetting what he was supposed to do, he fumbled with his scriptbook for a moment before putting it away and saying uncertainly, "According to the script, I'm supposed to smile creepily at you and stand aside so Voldemort can kill you."
"Oh, you don't have to do that," said Frank nervously, backing away. Why had he ever agreed to that binding movie contract? Alas, if he perished, then no one shall ever know of the horrors of the Hollywood Hall of Horrendous Holograms! which he had managed to escape from after his latest movie fiasco. ("What's that?" asked Ron. "It's the pit of eternal doom where people go when they break binding movie contracts," answered Hermione.)
"Really? I don't?" asked Wormtail brightly.
"Yes, you do," said the unspoken narrator, "Now get on with it!"
"Okay," whimpered Wormtail in fright. He smiled creepily at Frank and scurried away.
"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort shouted (or rather, croaked noisily). Frank screamed as he was engulfed by green light and the camera cut to a scene of his 'ancient' kettle steaming and whistling on the 'ancient' stove in his 'ancient' house situated in his 'ancient' neighborhood before the screen blacked out.
A/N: So there you have it. This is my first attempt at writing anything in the Humor category, so any criticism (constructive criticism) is welcome. Thanks for reading! Now finish the job and review! Or I might have to send you to the other Hollywood pit of doom where fanfiction readers go when they don't review. :-)
R/N (Ron's note): What's that pit of doom called?
H/N (Hermione's note): Er…actually, I don't know. The writer couldn't think of anything, so she's just blaming me now.
H/N (Harry's note): Hermione, how can the readers tell the difference between my note and yours?
H/N: They just have to guess.