When Harry experiences his explosion of testosterone.
Next morning, Harry burst out of bed without even putting on his socks properly and splashed water on his face, making the rest of the bathroom wet with water. He had dreamt about their new guests, Jessica and Ashley peeking into the boys' dormitory, asking him if there were any spare beds left. They were wearing tank tops and short shorts, and seemed tired. Therefore, Harry kindly gave them his bed. They were quite reluctant to take it, but Harry insisted that he could always go sleep in the Common Room. Then the girls and Harry had a pleasurable time arguing about taking or not taking his bed. He knew he had to be there to see them…before other pubescent boys got to the gorgeous dolls.
This is war he thought, grasping hard on the hand rails of the stairway as he sped down to the common room. He had barely managed to put on his shirt and robes and pants, and had left his bed a mess, his lamp knocked out, and his trunk wide open for everybody to see and dig in for his secret diary. But Harry did not care. The images of Jessica and Kimberly flashed through his mind like a raw meat on a dog's mind. Their laughing smiles, dimples, beautiful skin and eyes twinkling.
Harry growled as he saw a line up of boys from all over the houses, holding pens and papers, with extra caution paid to their appearances. For example, Roger Davis had his gel so thick on his hair that not even a hurricane could move it. As Harry got closer, he sniffed in a very strong odour of David Beckham's Body Cologne everywhere. Then it turned to something else that smelled extraordinarily raunchy. Harry stopped and looked at himself. He wasn't looking his best, really. Glaring over at Draco Malfoy, who was not 4th in line and was getting pretty excited just by looking at his face, Harry could see a big contrast in between them, despite of Malfoy's ugly pointy nose.
Harry sighed, but did not give up. He waited and waited, bearing looks from much bigger and buff boys from Ravenclaw in front him giving him a funny look.
Suddenly a girl screamed.
Jolting, Harry looked in the direction.
"AMIGWD! YOU ARE HARRY POTTER!!!!!!!!!!!!! AHH!!" Nicole screamed loudly and ran towards him, her black hair dancing behind her, her beautiful arms stretched afar, towards him, her long legs gracefully dancing at his direction.
Harry said, "aeuuh" and acted like a little boy having a seizure. Soon he was captivated in Nicole's arms, soon into her bosom as Nicole frantically searched for Harry's raw and perfectly shaped, vulnerable scar of a lightning bolt, laid out gracefully on Harry's fair forehead.
"I heard so much about you, Harry, and it was my dream to meet you!" Nicole exclaimed.
Really? It was my dream to meet you. Harry thought. Soon he noticed the rest of the dolls walking towards him.
"Oh my gosh, he's so cute!" Jessica smiled happily, showing her wide, beautiful smile. Harry automatically smiled.
"Thanks," it took Harry million times the strength he put into Quidditch match against Slytherin to say it, looking at her in the eyes. Harry blushed furiously.
"Aw, what a tres, tres mignon boy," Carmit looked at him adoringly. Personally Harry thought she reminded him of Dursley's old aunt named Sarah. But he did like how she dressed in maroon coloured robe that had been switched to a racer back halter top.
"He is a handsome boy!" Kimberly piped in. God, she was so beautiful.
"Roger! Take a picture with the famous Harry boy!" Nicole yelled at the American Roger, a man with bald head with two piercings and who was wearing a Black Eyed Peas t-shirt, who came over with a huge muggle-camera.
The dolls cheesed around Harry, hugging and grabbing him from all directions. Harry noticed Draco gritting his teeth like a mad bull on the left, and he smiled even wider.
"Oh, posh, those muggle cameras, try our new witch-invented ones, the pictures move!" short Professor Flitwick desperately yelled to get their attention.
"Oh okay," Carmit said, observing carefully. Melody went over, looking interested.
"All right, one, two, three-"
"CHEEEEEEEEEESE!" the voices rang out.
Harry was in cloud two hundred. No, infinity. There they were, beautiful six dolls (almost all) scratching his ears, adoringly looking at his forehead, touching his arms and hair, telling jokes and laughing.
Draco Malfoy was desperate to get to Nicole, who had been the leader and the only doll to have been sorted into the Slytherin house. He finally managed to get a hug and a kiss on the cheek from her, and Harry swore when he did, Draco awfully resembled Uncle Vernon receiving a 80 reduced bill payment on a Sunday morning with ham and bacons double sized for breakfast. Tutting, Harry turned around, face to face with an angry Hermione.
"Oh hi hermione," Harry said, sounding a bit scared.
"Harry, do you know what day it is?" Hermione sneered.
"Um, nine?" Harry said, caring less about the time. Or the date. Whatever it was.
"It's Ron's bloody birthday." Hermione growled through her gritted teeth, almost visible steam soaring out of her nostrils.
"Oh," Harry felt a sharp pang in his stomach.
"Oh?" Hermione said, "Is that all you say?!! OH?!!" Hermione screeched, rising fast to the Howler volume level.
"I'm sorry, Hermione, I-I really am-"
"You bloody traitor!" Hermione yelled, now everybody was looking at her. Her bushy hair pointed in every direction, which probably annoyed more now that she had to compare them with the Pussycat Dolls' perfect ones. She shook with fury, piercing into every little inch into Harry's skin.
"Hermione! Will you get a grip? I'm sorry!" Harry apologized desperately. He really was.
"I just, lost track of time because-" Harry started an explanation.
"Oh, because of those useless skanks?" Hermione screamed. Harry heard one of the doll's gasp, and wished that he was now forty feet under.
"Hermione, shut up, what if they hear you-" Harry gritted his teeth and looked at her with warning.
"Oh, they heard me, now you're afraid of THEM? Harry! I don't care if they hear me! I wish! I bet they have! Those American sluts! Your bestfriend's birthday is today, and you think today is-" Hermione seemed to explode, danger dangling in her eyes. "Oh, rubbish, YOU ARE A RUBBISH HARRY!"
And with that, Hermione stomped out of the Great Hall.
Harry stood there, motionless. His shock in finding out that he had missed his best friend's birthday had been newly replaced by the over-reacting Hermione and the shocked look on the Pussycat Dolls' faces.
"I'm sorry," Harry muttered, scarlett in the face to match his shirt.
He noticed Draco smile with pride, and mutter something like 'mudblood'. Harry raced back to his dormitory, not stopping until he was back at his bedside.
