Harry Potter and the Spoon of Anger
Albus Dumbledore looked up groggily from his office desk. The realisation of his falling asleep came to him slowly. The tumult of noisy students came to his ears. Well, he must continue to write that letter to the Ministry of Misuse of Muggle Artifacts. Nothing can stop his work now.
Harry stood with Hermione and Ron in the corridor, watching the typical widard drivel wandering past. Of course, in the scheme of things, the worst of the drivel had to come up and taunt them. Draco Malfoy, an evil, twisted boy with a method of making everyone except his rather stupid friends, Crabbe and Goyle, loathe the sight of him.
Harry stared at him, "What do you want, Malfoy?"
"Oh, nothing much, Potter, just a favour"
"I'm not going to do anything for you!"
"Well, when you here what I wanted, Potter, you'll be sorry you decided not not to help me. Hmmph!"
And with that Malfoy wandered off, leaving the three staring at him, with angry scowls on their faces. "Don't listen to him. He's an ignorant little bastard", suggested Hermione.
Harry nodded and they made their way to Transfiguration class.
Later that night, Harry tossed and turned, as he dreamt, and this dream was quickly turning into a nightmare:
Harry and his friends sat at breakfast, eating their slightly overcooked eggs. Hermione looked up and said, "Have you read the latest Daily Prophet? It seems that a family in Surrey died in very suspicious circumstances."
"Where in Surrey was it?", asked Harry.
He was very keen to know, as he came from Surrey, and if it was in the Daily Prophet, it might have something to do with Voldemort returning. "Well, where was it?"
"It doesn't say. That's odd. But look here", Hermione jabbed at a pot on the newspaper, "They had very broad wounds, indicating they were struck rapidly with a blunt object and…"
She didn't finish her sentence. Suddenly the little spoon on the table hopped up and started beating itself into Hermione's neck. Blood was pouring everywhere. It splattered onto their perfectly good breakfasts, and that was a shame. Mostly, Hermione was dying. "This could get ugly!", shouted someone in the back.
"You arse! It's already ugly"
No one could control the little spoon. Suddenly, Hermione's head popped off, and the fountain became a flood…
Harry woke up, panting, drenched with cold sweat. For some reason, the dreams he had often were based on true events, whether in the past or future. He sat up. That little spoon had the mind of a serial killer. What if it was lurking among the cutlery, just waiting to kill someone at Hogwarts? That couldn't happen. Well, technically, with the use of magic, a spoon could go on a killing spree, but that was a little bit intense, for a spoon. Harry decided to ignore the dream and go back to sleep…which meant that he would try to forget the whole thing, but…
He fell asleep.
In potion class the next morning, Snape started to wander around, and positively critique the student's work. Neville suddenly shouted, "Oh my God, I've lost my hand! It's frickin' gone…"
And then he tripped up, and spilled the whole thing over himself. It was getting worse…there was less and less of Neville. "You little turd! I told you not to get the stuff on yourself. You deserved this, but I suppose I must send you to Madame Pomfrey. Could I get a stretcher here…immediately"
"But, sir, I'm melting away. AAAH…OH SHI…"
Neville suddenly became unconscious. A few seconds later, a stretcher came, and took him away. Well, the torso and head that was left, at least.
Harry decided this was the moment to tell his chums about the nightmare he had, and so he began, "You know, I had a rather bloody dream about a little spoon…"
After telling his friends, they glared at him for a little while, but it turned out Ron had been thinking, "You know, Harry, I think I read something about that. Some people died, but I think they've got the spoon locked up in Azkaban, or something. Maybe it was turned into a normal piece of cutlery"
Hermione, the interminable source of facts, butted in, "Yes, but that was three centuries ago, and anyway, Ron, when was the last time you read anything for pleasure?"
"HarHar, very funny, I read in the Daily Prophet, it was all about objects that have gone on killing sprees. It happens…"
Harry suddenly remarked, "Say, I wonder what happened to Neville. I mean, there wasn't much left of him, do you think he'll survive?"
Snape ended their friendly little chat with a sharp reminder to work harder. No one liked Snape. Only evil bastards like Draco liked Snape. Harry started to wonder what favour Malfoy wanted. He didn't know, but it probably wasn't something good.
Later at lunch, Harry, remembering his dream the second time that day, looked warily at the cutlery…perhaps one of them was a killer! Easing his worries slightly, Harry looked at his plate and proceeded to eat his rather unappetising looking sausage-he couldn't even figure out what animal it was made of. Suddenly, a scream pierced the air. It was Malfoy. "Would someone get this bastard spoon out of my arm! Damn it hurts!"
Normally Harry would find that amusing, but this seemed serious. He stood on his chair and looked toward the Slytherin table, full of people gawking at the teaspoon in Malfoy's arm. It was bleeding, and the spoon seemed to be trying to sever the arm. Suddenly Harry had an inspiration. He shouted, "Accio Spoonus", and the spoon started to fly right at him.
Harry realised what was happening and started to dive out of the way. The spoon missed him by inches. He realised suddenly that the person sitting across from him was Hermione. She was going to be injured by that damn spoon. He heard the shrill scream of pain, and realised that spoon had hit its target. He turned around…and realised it had only grased Hermione's temple, where a tiny bruise showed itself. Hermione was looking slightly teary, but realised the danger and was trying to escape the dining hall. The spoon wanted more. It looked slightly tired as it prepared to launch itself from the floor, and Harry started trying to avoid the direction it was trying to launch itself in. The spoon aimed itself at Hagrid, and burst off. Hagrid, meanwhile, was looking around wildly, wondering what to do. Hagrid didn't notice the spoon hurtling toward him, and it was too late when he did. The spoon hit him in the forehead and bounced off onto the floor. Hagrid didn't seem to be injured, it just seemed to make him angry. "BASTARD SPOON", he shouted and started to jump on the prostate spoon.
Soon, it was a flat hunk of metal. It seemed to be unconscious, Harry rushed over to pick it up and wrap it in tissue. It had to be held tightly, or else it would be very dangerous. Dumbledore thanked Harry, and told him to come with him to the office. He brought Malfoy along, too.
Sitting securely in Dumbledore's office, the spoon seemed to be unable to move. Harry stared at it as Dumbledore, began to speak, "As you may or may not know, this school operates on a budget. We do not exactly have limitless funds. About thirty years, when this school was in dire financial straits, we bought some spoons for a ridiculously low price, and from a rather unreputable retailer, which has long since gone out of business. The reason for the low price we soon discovered. It seems that we were purchasing surplus assasin cutlery, and that it was permanent, meaning that we couldn't do much magical to it. Of course, there were a few random deaths, but they were generally insignificant people who the school did not really care about…"
"Excuse me, sir, but why didn't the school ever get rid of them?"
"Oh, well, that's what young Malfoy here wants everybody to help with. A spoon drive…we'll send the EVIL cutlery to poorer schools, with even lower budgets, like Durmstrang, a rather poor Baltic/German institution, which is currently strapped for cash because of the recent purchase of a ship for excursions."
Harry started to think of the Weasleys and their financial problems. "So, Potter, will you help me send the spoons to those poor bastards in that distant land?"
"Well, I guess so, Malfoy. I mean, it's a good deed and all…"
"Yes", agreed Dumbledore, "And watch your language, Draco Malfoy."
"Sorry, sir", muttered Malfoy.
"Excuse me, sir, but is Neville any better?"
"Oh, of course", answered Dumbledore heartily, "but body regrowth takes a long time, even magical regrowth, and it's very painful. Imagine having 100 scorching needles stuck up your anus…ahem, nevermind"
Harry knew about that sort of pain, having had to regrow all the bones in his arm.
"Well, cheerio!"
And with those words from Dumbledore, the two left the the office. Outside, Malfoy collapsed in laughter. "Imagine the look on those foreign bastards faces when the cutlery suddenly go on rampage. Hahaha, oh my God, I'm going to collapse."
Even Harry had to admit it was funny, in a sort of sick bastard sort of way. Still, he had to stop Malfoy in this act, as it was rather mean, and death is never funny…well, maybe, but it would have to be sort of Monty Pythonesque, and oh…nevermind.
"Look, Malfoy, you can't do that!"
"Oh, come on, it will be funny…you just don't have a sense of humour!"
"Oh, yeah, Malfoy, about as funny as the time you transfigured that piece of celery into a condom!"
"Oh, don't remind me, that was funny. Even your girlfriend, Hermione, was laughing"
"She's not my girlfriend, Malfoy"
"Anyway, that ability can come in useful…for obvious reasons!"
Malfoy smirked. Harry decided to head off to the Gryffindor common room, to think about what to do. He told Hermione and Ron. They were shocked. Hermione angrily stated, "This is even worse than the condom!"
So they decided to confront Malfoy. When they tracked him down later, he smirked at them, "What do you want? Is this about the spoons?"
"Yeah", shouted Hermione, "We're here to stop you from sending them!"
"Well, I've already sent them! You can realise you have failed in front of the great Malfoy!"
Harry and his loyal chums wandered off to the common room again, all sad. Harry wasn't used to failure. He always seemed to win in the end. This time he had failed. What shame. Ron cheered everybody up by shouting, "Hey, I've got 5 kegs of butterbeer stolen from the kitchen by my brothers! Let's go drown our sorrows!"
And that they did.
A few days later, a parcel arrived at the door of Alastor Moody, who was the picture of health, although slightly mentally unstable. He was a retired Auror and this had taught him constant vigilance. As he opened the door to his modest house, a very tired looking owl dropped down, and put the parcel into the arms of Alastor. Alastor looked at the parcel, which had GIFT scrawled on it. Alastor, who like the owl, was very tired and lacking vigilance took the parcel inside. He closed the door. He opened the parcel and out flew 700 angry pieces of cutlery. The owl, shocked and lost as it was, flew quickly away, as the anguished screams came from inside the house. Cries came, such as, "Oh my God, the bastard took my eye!" or "Ahh, that's going to leave a scar, you bastard fork!"
Alastor's life was about to take a turn for the worse.
Author's note: I hope you like this story. It is my first fan fiction. Because there is not much to keep track of in the Harry Potter universe, it is probably much easier to write a Harry Potter fan fiction than other franchises. Please review it, if you have the time.