Disclaimer: Mmmm… Harry Potter cake…


Ha, Ha, Hee, Hee. Blackmail! For the Future.

Gasps rang across the Hall as students whispered to each other in unison: 'Dead?'

Suddenly!

'Oh no!' cries the Reader who doesn't know what's happening, but cries out anyway just for the sake of it. The Reader reads on.

Chuckles echoed from wall to wall. At first, everyone assumed that it was coming from Filch because he hated students and wished for so long for one of them to die, but it dawned upon the students' tiny little brains malfunctioning ears that the chuckles were coming from…

… Dumbledore.

'Huh?'

Dumbledore looked around and smiled with serene amusement. 'Ah, the joy of jokes. I've always wanted to proclaim a student dead even though they weren't. That was the downside of taking the Dementors away – no more fainting. Ah, well… ha, ha.'

'"Ha, ha"?' demanded Draco, who had just woken up. 'I'm going to be re-sorted into the hands of clumsy homicidal enemies because of my parents crazy scheme of asking you of all people for help and I'm going to have to sleep with Potter and Weasley and I faint in front of the whole student population AND I'm going to inevitably die in a dark and disconcertingly deserted area because of a dishonest Death Eater dragon smuggling directive and ALL YOU CAN SAY IS "HA, HA"?'

But Dumbledore was unperturbed by this livid state of affairs pouring from Draco's mouth.

'Oh yes, thank you for reminding me,' he said thoughtfully. 'Hee, hee! Severus, do give your student a block of chocolate for such an attentive comment and good alliteration while in dire stress.'

The Slytherin professor stared at the hypothetically crazy Headmaster as if willing him to realize that the last thing that would be hidden in his pockets would be a bar of chocolate. He groaned, covered his face with his long pale hands and mumbled a 'five points to Slytherin' into the gaps of his fingers.

0o0o

'Harry?' asked Hermione tentatively. 'Are you okay?'

No reply.

'Mate…' said Ron slowly, 'are you crying?'

And the Reader finally cracks a smile as She or He realizes that Malfoy had only fainted.

This is where the Author comes in. The Author – who has a gender and a name but will only reveal the gender – has come to punish the Reader.

'What did I do?' screams the Reader in anguish, not wanting to be dragged away from the story. 'Why am I reading this paragraph marked in Bold and Italics? Why are you here?'

She, because the Author – who is me – is a 'she', does not reply. She whacks the Reader on the back of the head, and drags the crumpling and unconscious body out of a door which has just appeared. The Reader had wasted a lot of valuable time objecting or complaining or whatever when the Reader could have just read the damn story! The Author has arrived because the Author will not waste her own or the story's valuable time!

The Author starts narrating to herself while crunching her popcorn.

'No I'm not crying, Ron!' howled Harry. 'I never cry!' He raised his head and wiped his eyes (because they had something stuck in them) and sniffed (because his nose was blocked by the things that block noses).

'You'd cry at our funerals, though, right Harry?' Ginny had come over from her own little group.

Harry smiled fondly at her through his blurry eyes which were not the result of tears. 'I'd cry at your funeral, Gin. But maybe not Ron's.'

'That's not fair!' huffed Ron. He bit his shepherd's pie.

'Is fair.' Laughed Harry. His face fell again when it occurred to him about something. 'I can't believe Malfoy has to live with us! The idea didn't seem half as real until Dumbledore told the school.'

'Bo we ave backmai!' said Ron through the gravy in his mouth.

'Pardon?' asked Hermione.

'I think he means, "But we have blackmail."' Said Ginny.

'I guess. Well, we can always laugh at the fact that he fainted in front of the school.' Hermione said.

'Or turn him into a ferret again. Or dress him up in pink robes like his dad wore in my dream!' said Harry, losing all previous fears and becoming intensely excited. Ginny looked at him curiously.

'You had a dream about Lucius Malfoy?'

'Nightmare, actually. I'll explain.'

0o0o

'Draco, how much stuff do you have in that trunk?' asked Blaise in disbelief, as he stared at the contents strewn around Draco's bed. Draco was currently lounging on Nott's bed and chewing on a piece of chocolate, given to him by a red-faced Snape who muttered something about crazy seers, Dumbledore and Legilimency.

'It's not that much. Just a few items of clothing, my cauldron, a chess set, some pocket money, my broom, my private pillow, a blanket, stationary, ink bottles, books, a brick for killing Potter and food.'

'Right. Aren't you going to go soon?'

'Just another half an hour.' He mumbled.

'You've been here for one hour already. And what if Pansy comes?'

'Then I will go.'

'Drakie!' shrilled a voice outside. 'Are you there?'

Draco jumped to his feet and threw all his belongings into his trunk. He stuffed his trunk into a wardrobe and jumped into it. 'Tell me when she's gone Blaise!'

Pansy swayed in only to find a bemused Blaise who seemed entranced by the wardrobe in front of him.

The Author signals for the Reader (who is bound and gagged in a corner) to jump back, unties the Reader's hands and forces the Reader to type a complimentary and full of praise review.