Disclaimer: I do not own the following:
· Any and all characters affiliated with Harry Potter in any way, shape, form or fashion.
· The Girl Scouts of America
· The "…Ever So…" label
· The President of the United States
· Burger King
I DO own:
· Snape's Daisy hat
· Draco's Leotard
· Lily's ethereal stick
· Dobby's shiny shoes
On that thoroughly weird note, let the fic commence.
In retrospect, Remus decided, the whole thing was out of control from the beginning. It all started with a particularly potent OOC potion that had been distributed to most of cannon characters, who had been minding their own cannon-approved business at the time. No one could nail down a culprit, but Remus personally suspected the Draco Malfoy is Ever So Sexy fan club; they'd been causing a lot of trouble lately. On any other day, the potion would have been easily combated with the aide of Professor Snape. Unfortunately, the aforementioned professor took an unfortunate sip of potion-laced pumpkin juice which put him in no position to do any antidote-making of any kind. The last time Remus had seen him, he was off to find a daisy-filled field and commune with his inner child.
Dumbledore himself had been affected by the potion and was now wandering about the castle in the grips of dementia with someone's underpants on his head. Oddly enough, it had taken almost six hours for anyone to notice. This left Remus in a very bad position indeed, and he had yet to discover someone else who hadn't drank the infected pumpkin juice. As if to illustrate this point, Hermione Granger came trundling up looking puzzled, which was unusual in and of itself. But stranger still she was carrying a calendar and what appeared to be a Muggle pregnancy test.
"Oh, thank goodness I found you. Where were you about three weeks ago?" She said, peering intently at the back of the box.
"Um, full moon." Remus adjusted his collar uncomfortably.
"Oh." Hermione creased her brow in consternation, "Then it's not you. Well, maybe it was Ron, or Harry, or Draco, or Blaise Zambini, or Oliver Wood, or Professor Snape, or Sirius or Harry's Dad or Vernon Dursley or-" Remus held up a hand to silence her.
"Hermione, did you by any chance have some pumpkin juice today?"
"Yeah, why do you ask?" Remus sighed and jotted down her name in a small notebook.
"No reason." Hermione excused herself, probably to go find Ron, or Harry, or Draco, or Blaise Zambini, or...and once was quite enough for that. Remus had not walked three paces when he tripped over Mad-Eye Moody, who was lying in the middle of hallway.
"Mad-Eye? What are you doing? You don't teach here."
"Neither do you." Moody pointed out with a low growl.
"Yeah, I suppose your right." Remus said, but Moody didn't appear to be listening to him.
"Have you noticed that everyone 'round here is off their nut?" Remus nearly fainted with relief, finally, finally, someone else in possession of their faculties and canon-endowed personality. "Yup, running around like chickens with their heads cut off. If you ask me, alls they need to do is relax. Yup, just stop and smell the roses, maybe catch a nap." Remus sighed again and scribbled Moody's name in the notebook.
"I don't see how you could have drunk the pumpkin-juice; you only drink from a hip flask, don't you?" Moody looked puzzled for a moment.
"Plot hole?" He shrugged. Remus managed to contain another sigh. Damn fanfic authors, they were worse than moths. However, before he had time to tell Moody that taking naps in the midst of the hallway was probably not a good idea, Severus Snape came running up to him urgently.
Snape had a small hat woven of daisies perched jauntily upon his head, and several garlands around his neck. Remus wondered briefly just how the heck Snape had managed to find a daisy field on Hogwarts grounds, but he quickly realized that that probably not the major issue here. Sure enough, he was right.
"Lupin," Snape said seriously, the seriousness, however, was somewhat belied by the daisy that had come unwound from his hat and flopped pathetically on to his forehead. "I've talked it over, and my inner child agrees with me, my life is pointless. Make potions and torment children, that's all I do!"
"But Severus, you love making potions and tormenting children. It's what gives you the will to live," Remus pointed out gently.
"Hear, Hear!" Moody said heartily from the floor. Remus resisted the urge to tell him to shut his trap. Snape overrode them both.
"Not anymore, I'm off to seek more meaningful employment. I hear Minerva knows some people at this strip bar…" he muttered thoughtfully and trundled off, asking questions to himself and answering them in a ridiculous falsetto that would have been funny if it wasn't so disturbing. Hell, it was funny anyway; Remus chuckled to himself while making a special notation in the small notebook.
"You spelled schizophrenic wrong," said the specter of Sirius Black from just behind his right shoulder.
"GAH! Sirius!" Remus jumped and whirled around, "Hey, aren't you dead?" Sirius shrugged.
"And your point is?"
"Well, um, shouldn't you be doing…dead people things?" Sirius' translucent brow creased.
"You mean hanging out with that Osmet kid? Boring! I'd rather be here. Especially as it seems an OOC potion has been administered." Lupin appeared to be considering this thoughtfully.
"Sirius…" he said slowly.
"Yes…" Sirius answered equally slowly, he was peering into Mad-Eye's flask, which he had nicked while the Auror slept, "D'you think there's any liquor in here?" Lupin ignored him.
"How can you be a ghost? I thought we established that you were very, very, dead at the end of OotP, it was all poignant and everything. What happened to that?" Sirius shook out the hip flask, it was completely empty, a fact that might have been related to Mad-Eye's sudden coma-like slumber.
"Plot hole?" he said hopefully. Lupin shook his head.
"I swear to God, if I hear 'plot hole' one more time, I won't be responsible for my actions."
"Plot hole," said the fifteen-year old version of James Potter, who had snuck up behind Remus while his back was turned.
"Geez, James, do you want to give me a heart attack or something?" Remus said, a bit severely. He always felt ridiculously old whenever teenage!James popped out of a time hole. James shrugged and polished his prefect's badge absently.
"Hey! You weren't a prefect!" Sirius said loudly, rummaging through the rest of Moody's pockets. James shrugged again.
"Drank the pumpkin juice, mate. I'm off to bask in my noble, tragic, perfect-ness." He sashayed off, no doubt to play harmless hair-color related pranks and stand around looking like someone who would die an early death. Sirius shook his insubstantial head slowly.
"Even when he's not a prat, he still kinda a prat, you know what I mean?" Remus, meanwhile, was pondering something else entirely. He stared up at the ceiling, as if he expected to see the author hanging from a light fixture up there.
"What kind of plot is this anyway? I just stand here and insane people run up to me? Pardon me, but that sucks." The light fixture didn't deign to answer, but a folded piece of notebook paper did float lazily from the ceiling. Lupin reached out and caught it, unfolding as he did so. "Plot hole" it said, Remus sighed and stuffed it forcibly into his pocket.
"That's just great. Real mature." Several more papers fell from the ceiling, each one bearing the word "HA" in large letters. "Fine you've made your point, now quit with the papers, won't you? You're messing up the hall." The papers stopped abruptly, and Draco came sauntering down the hall, looking pensive, with a green leotard over one arm.
"Oh, Professor Lupin!" Draco said, totally disregarding Sirius Black who was floating artistically nearby.
"Yes, Draco?" Remus could feel that shooting pain behind his eyes again.
"Well, I've thought it over and I've decided to renounce my father and his plundering, pillaging ways." Remus ignored the desire to tell Draco that his father was a Death Eater, not a Saxon. "So I'm now going to join Gryffandor house, marry Hermione and raise our child lovingly. And possibly sell some antique clocks. I've always had a passion for time pieces." He beamed, Sirius looked puzzled.
"The kid's yours?" he asked, Remus didn't bother to ask how he knew of Hermione's impending pregnancy, he suspected that he would only get another plot hole for his trouble. Draco looked briefly thoughtful, "Well, I guess we'll find out in nine months, won't we? Anyway, I have also decided to perform an interpretive dance illustrating my decision." He waved the leotard, as if to emphasize this point, "Seven o'clock" he added, pulling a huge roll of tickets out of his robes. "Sell some tickets, Dad disinherited me, and I've got support the missus somehow." Remus took the tickets mutely and Draco continued on his way, no doubt to rehearse. Before Remus or Sirius had a chance to say anything, there was a loud, inescapable sound, much like an air raid siren. Remus and Sirius both clamped their hands over their ears until it eventually subsided.
"What the…" Remus trailed off, talking a little louder than was strictly necessary. Sirius shook his head, doglike, "It's the new doorbell, Dumbledore had it put in today."
"Any particular reason it sounds like Nazis are attacking?" Remus said irritably, and loudly, everything still rather sounded like it was underwater. Sirius rolled his eyes.
"Dumbledore's running around with someone else's knickers on his head, he's hardly in a position to make informed decisions about the general upkeep." Remus opened his mouth to say something, but he cut off by another blast from the doorbell. He hurried over the door and flung it wildly open; the small pre-pubescent girl who had been leaning on the bell quickly stepped aside and straightened her dark green uniform. Remus felt an uncontrollable urge to drop-kick her onto the nearest uncharted island. Behind the girl, several more girls stood, smiling woodenly, all with immaculate, identical green uniforms.
"Look, I know I owe some cookie money, but I have to ask you to stop sending your hired goons to my house, and quit vandalizing my stuff!" The girl looked puzzled.
"We're not girl scouts, Mr. Lupin." She said slowly, Remus tried not to look too obviously relieved. A dark haired, snooty-looking girl pushed her way to the front.
"I do have a message from them, though" she clasped her hands behind her back and sat up as straight as possible. "They say (and I quote) 'pay now or face our wrath, and buy a car you damn freak, it's really hard to key a broom'" she subsided, looking pleased with herself. Remus raised an eyebrow; there was no way he was going to be intimidated by a bunch of adolescent girls with little green sashes. Besides, he had canned goods; he could live in his cellar for a good twenty years. By then, they would all have become cosmetologists and tax auditors, and hopefully would have forgotten about his tagalong binge.
"Um, who are you, then?" he asked. The leader smiled a thin, unpleasant, vaguely cat-like smile and tilted the badge on her chest so he could read it.
"The Draco Malfoy is Ever So Sexy fan club. I should have guessed." Remus said, eyes narrowing unconsciously. The girl just smiled.
"So, I hear you've got a pretty bad OOC potion on your hands."
"It's not that severe" Remus lied, thinking immediately of Snape's little daisy hat, he had to actively avoid chuckling at the memory. "But you wouldn't happen to know anything about it, would you?" he inquired shrewdly. The little girl peered innocently up at him.
"Certainly not. We're just here to buy tickets to the interpretive dance." She held out a fistful of galleons, as did the rest of her company. Remus hesitated for a moment, and then began tearing off tickets. After all, the kid did have a family to look after.
"Come back at seven, and not a minute before." He said sternly after everyone had their tickets.
"But couldn't we just…" said the girl, trying to peer around him, Remus moved to block her.
"No." She scowled blackly.
"You better watch you back pal, we know some very disgruntled scouts who owe us a favor." Remus rolled his eyes.
"I'm terrified. Now move, before I call the Draco Malfoy is Ever So Gay fan club."
"They're not going to be there, are they?" the dark-haired girl spat scornfully. Remus rolled his eyes yet again.
"He's prancing about in a leotard for God's sake; do you really think they're going to miss that kind of validation?" The girls eventually left, muttering mingled death threats and obscenities under their collective breath. Remus sighed and slammed the door, he was wondering if maybe he shouldn't barricade it as well when a house elf tapped him on the back of the head.
"Dobby?" he asked, recovering from his start. It was indeed Dobby, but instead of the uniform tea-toga, he was attired in a smart gray suit and a matching tie. His shoes were made of very shiny black leather, and Remus had an unpleasant suspicion that they cost more than his entire wardrobe. Of course, to be fair, his entire wardrobe was worth about twenty-five cents and a small handful of Chiclets.
"Hello, Mister Remus Lupin, sir. How is you being today?" he inquired politely.
"Um, fine. Dobby? Why are you wearing that suit?" Dobby grinned widely.
"Dobby is going to run for president of the United States." He said. It took Remus a full minute to process this.
"Why?" he managed finally. Dobby considered this.
"Dobby has always been loving politics, it's his masochistic nature. And Dobby is figuring that he could not possibly mangle the English language any more than George Bush." Remus couldn't argue the logic there. "Would you be liking to be Dobby's campaign manager, Dobby is paying well. Dobby has come into some money you see, Mr. Malfoy left all his money to Dobby in his will."
"But if Lucius isn't dead, how can you touch the money?" Dobby pondered this.
"Plot hole, Mr. Remus Lupin, sir?" Remus didn't have the energy to sigh. "So, is you wanting to be my campaign manager?"
"No, Dobby. I'm needed with the Order." Dobby shrugged his tiny shoulders and walked away, his probably Italian shoes clicking on the tile.
"Wait, how much did you say it pays?" Remus shouted, Dobby half-turned but Remus waved him on, mentally berating himself. Campaign managing for a house elf was where he drew the ol' dignity line. Even if the house elf had pretty good odds, alls he had to do was cure himself of the habit of beating the crap out of himself when he told lies and he'd be the perfect politician.
It was then that the ethereal ghost of Lily Potter manifested herself. In the broom closet. Unfortunately, she caught her long, ethereal white dress on a mop and ripped it in her haste, and got one ethereal white pump lodged in a bucket, so the effect was somewhat ruined. She adjusted her dress and turned to look at Remus.
"What the hell are you doing here? Where's my son?" Remus shrugged. She kicked her foot inside the bucket uselessly.
"Shit. I'm supposed to be guiding him. Say, do you need any guiding?" she asked brightly.
"Um…no," Remus said slowly, Lily looked disheartened.
"Are you sure? I've got a magic, sparkly stick of ethereal-ness." She waved the stick for emphasis.
"Nah."
"Well that's just cute," Lily said, putting her hands on her ethereal hips. "I come all the way from friggin' heaven and that little berk can't even be bothered to show up on time! I swear, I'm embedding a watch in his forehead."
"Well," said Remus reasonably, "That really won't make him more punctual. I mean, how is he going to see the watch if it's embedded in his forehead?"
"Bite me," Lily said simply, she had whipped out a compact mirror and was checking her lipstick.
"You know, you had a significantly smaller anger problem when I last knew you," Remus said. Lily shut the compact with an irritable snap.
"Well I'm sorry, but this ethereal bunk isn't all it's cut out to be. I mean, you can only save a toddler from oncoming traffic so many times before it gets old. I've gotten to the point where I say flatten the buggers!" she mimed this action with her hands. Before Remus was forced to make more small talk, Harry came running up, looking disheveled and toting a day-planner.
"Sorry I'm late," he panted, "But I had my affair with Hermione this afternoon. Thank God Draco canceled the duel, or I wouldn't have made it all. He said something about rehearsing and the fundamental uncomfortableness of leotards. What was that about?" Remus shrugged.
"Search me."
Harry looked ponderous, "I sure hope he doesn't want us to duel in leotards. I don't even own a leotard." Lily stomped her foot impatiently on the floor and tapped the ethereal stick against her arm rhythmically. "So," Harry began, flicking through his day planner, "Am I angsty today, or are we having a heartfelt mother-son moment?" Lily pulled out her own day planner, which was white and, as to be expected, ethereal.
"I've got heartfelt moment," She said.
"Okay then." Harry made a note in his planner and then tucked it into his robes.
"Mommy!" he said, holding out his arms.
"Son!" Lily shouted and they leapt into each other's arms. They held the hug for approximately three point eight seconds.
"Do ya think this is poignant enough?" Harry asked, Lily nodded and they released each other.
"Geez kid, you look more like James than I would have liked," Lily muttered appraisingly.
"What is that supposed to mean?" Harry asked, sounding highly affronted.
"Nothing," Lily waved her ethereal stick dismissively, "It's just a good thing you've got money, or you'd never date. That's how your father got most of his girlfriends."
"MUM! Are you saying I'm ugly?"
"No, of course not. But you could stand to work out a bit, you know." Harry stared with wide-eyed incredulity.
"My dead mum is giving me exercising tips," he muttered disbelievingly.
"Well, you do need them, dear." Lily said, with a comforting arm pat. Remus chose this moment to quietly slip away. Unfortunately, he happened to run into Severus Snape just as he rounded the corner.
"Ah, Lupin, glad I found you. I'd like to inform you that at long last, I've finally found my true calling; I've been cast in Coyote Ugly 2!" he said, face shining gleefully. Remus froze, there was only one thought in his mind: I'm in hell. Fan fiction is the circle of hell the Dante neglected to mention. A sequel to Coyote Ugly? Geez, I guess the American movie goers are in Hell too. Okay, so two thoughts. Behind him, Remus could hear Harry shouting, "Well, if I'm so damn ugly, maybe you should have just let Voldemort kill me!"
"Well, I'm off to get in a bit of practicing," Snape said jauntily, either not hearing, or having the blessed ability to tune out Harry. "Do you by any chance know where I could find massive quantities of liquor, do you?"
Lily yelled, managing to sound both ethereal and pissed off, "Stop being so over-sensitive, you little pantywaist!"
"No I don't," Remus said, with painful politeness, "But if you find it, save some for me, won't you?" Snape nodded and continued on his way, while Remus wondered if Dobby still needed a campaign manager. At least that job wouldn't involve a paper hat and the words, "Would you like to bigge-size that?"