The last chapter of the third book is here, and the next installment of Edmund! Harry gets more loserish, the plot gets thicker, and why doesn't someone just kill the fichus!

That Loser

Chapter 26: Lookin For Love in All the Wrong Places

Hermione snickered.

Harry glared. "What?"

The two friends where watching themselves run out of Hagrid's hut to the large, neon white rock.

Hermione smirked, "You look funny when you run, you know that, right?" Hermione watched as Harry ran with limbs flailing around everywhere, tripping over everything in sight, including pumpkins, rocks, and Ron, though mostly over his own feet.

Harry gasped, "TAKE THAT BACK!" He sniffed, "I happen to think I look pretty dashing when I run, if I do say so myself-"

Hermione slapped a hand over his mouth. "Shhh! Here we come." Their past selves crouched behind the rock, panting.

Harry massaged a bright red hand-shaped blotch on his cheek. "Ow."

"Oh…oh, it that what my hair looks like from the back?" Hermione gasped. There was a giant wad of gum protruding out of the back of her past self's head like a sugary pink tumor.

Past Hermione suddenly turned around, "Did you hear that?"

Hiding in the woods, Harry smirked. "You mean, you didn't notice that!"

Hermione looked close to tears, "Well, I…I just never really checked in the back. Hey, didn't you see that I had that thing stuck to my head?"

Harry suddenly turned sober, "Well, actually me and Ron thought it was because you were so smart, and your extra brains that got so crowded they just kind of…spilled out. We didn't want to embarrass you."

Hermione groaned, "Oh, so that's why that first year ran away from me screaming 'Help it's the Brain Monster!'?"

Harry chuckled in fond memory, "Oh yeah, we thought we've scare the gullible ones a little…uh…Hermione, you don't look so good…"

"YOU THINK! YOU LET ME WALK AROUND ALL YEAR WITH A GUM WAD STUCK IN MY HAIR, AND YOU 'DIDN'T WANT TO EMBARRASS ME'"? Oh well, YOU DID A PRETTY GOOD JOB OF IT!"

Harry cowered, "No! Please don't eat me Brain Monster!"

Hermione slapped him on the arm, "Shudup shudup, we're leaving!"

Past Hermione, Harry, and Ron ran off towards the Willow.

"Now we just have to wait until we come out, then do something about Professor Lupin, save you and Sirius, and get Sirius out of the tower. Okay, now we wait."

Harry cradled his arm protectively, "You know, this relationship has turned extremely abusive. Does someone have anger issues?"

Hermione glared and shoved some black clothing at him, "Just be quiet and put these on. From now until Sirius is safe, we're on…COMMANDO MODE!"

Somewhere on the Hogwarts grounds…

The tall yellow grass rustled in the night breeze. A pair of black binoculars poked out and surveyed the Whomping Willow. Stake out music played quietly in the background. But the mysterious moment was broken when Harry suddenly barreled out of the bushes.

"I can't take this anymore!" He said; sweat pouring down his camouflage-painted face. "Too much quiet!"

"Shhh! All right then, what do you want to talk quietly about?"

"Mops!" Harry's eyes brightened. "I saw this new mop in Loser Hobbies Weekly, although admittedly, there weren't really many mops!" Harry snorted, "I mean, mostly it was just pictures of girls wearing leather holding a mop, or posing with a mop. It was horrible, I mean, in half of the pictures the bottom of the mop was even cut off. CUT OFF, I tell you! Why buy a magazine of mops when all it's got is pictures of girls!"

Hermione eyed him suspiciously, wondering if he was being sarcastic, or just incredibly naive. One look into his large, innocent eyes said everything. "Uh, no idea. Anyways, here's what I've been wondering. What exactly happened with the dementors?"

Harry nodded, suddenly serious. "Oh yes. Well you see, the dementors were so happy to see that I'd saved Sirius-"

"-But you didn't…"

"-that they wanted to give me a big kiss. But, I was thought that was a bit farther than I wanted to go on our first date, I mean, if it had to go see a badly made sequel at the movie theater and accidentally bump hands getting popcorn or something…but anyways my dad was there, and he sent the glowing Hippo of Abstinence to drive the dementors away until such a time that I felt ready to move onto the next step of our relationship."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Can you try not to be such a loser, Harry?"

"But…but I can't help it!" said Harry desperately, "It's in my nature! Painfully naïve, odd looking, funny scar, total loser. IT'S LOCKED INTO THE FABRIC OF MY BEING!" Harry stood there panting from the passion of his speech.

Hermione blinked. "You done now?"

"NEVER! AND FURTHERMORE…okay, yeah, I'm done."

"Good, because we wouldn't want you to do anything stupid that would totally jeopardize the mission Dumbledore gave us and let someone see us or hear us or-"

"Hurry up already down there! I mean seriously, time is ticking away and I don't really want to hear anymore of your stupid sad werewolf stories, so just cut it out!" Harry yelled at the top of his lungs down the gaping tunnel into the Whomping Willow.

"Amen, brother!" said the weak voice of Ron somewhere below.

Hermione closed her eyes, "Something like that. Honestly, why do I even bring him?" Hermione, holding Buckbeak's rope in one hand, and a struggling loser in the other, managed to dive out of sight, just as their past selves, accompanied by Professor Lupin, Sirius, and an unconscious Snape, exited the willow tunnel.

Harry sniffed, "Mmm, pizza."

Harry's past self was hugging Sirius to the sound of Sinatra crooning about love, lunar phenomena, and Americanized Italian cuisine.

Hermione suddenly gasped, pointing to Peter, who was sitting lopsided against a tree trunk, leaking bits of straw and black paint. "Doesn't Peter look a little…different?"

Harry shrugged, "I see no difference whatsoever! I mean, the letters says PETER right across his chest, and you can't argue with letters," Harry leaned closer to Hermione and whispered conspiritally, "the letters know things."

Hermione leaned away from Harry's onion breath. "Right. But still…I can't quite put my finger on it…"

A pair of Mickey Mouse ears drooped to one side on Scarecrow Peter's head.

Hermione shrugged, "Nope. Oh well, hey look, Professor Lupin's changing!"

Harry snorted, "You know, I don't think that's what a werewolf should look like. He looks kind of like an alien."

"Or a large rabid monkey."

"Or a crippled fruit bat."

"Or if you look at him from the side, kind of like a profile of Abraham Lincoln."

Both Harry and Hermione nodded and continued to look at Professor Lupin from different angles while he shredded up Sirius into kibble and threateningly descended on the three trembling third years.

Harry laughed, munching popcorn. "They'd better move or something, or they'll be D-E-A-D-D Dead!"

Hermione gasped, "Harry, not only is that atrociously bad spelling, but I've just realized something! We've got to save them! Remember the werewolf call we heard that lured Professor Lupin away?"

Harry brightened, "Right! COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO!"

Hermione smacked him on the back of the head, "Idiot, that's not the right one!"

Harry smiled sheepishly, "Sorry."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "I mean, you'd think after the second time…"

"MIIAAAWWW!"

"Or not." She shoved Harry aside, "Oh move over! I, in fact, can do an incredibly lifelike impression of a werewolf!"

"Really, where'd you learn that?"

Hermione suddenly looked nervous, "Uh, Girl Scout Happy Daisy Muffin summer camp."

"What kind of summer camp was-?"

"WOOF WOOF BARK!"

The wolf hesitated, then galloped toward them.

Harry stood still in contentment, a dumb smile on his face. "So, uh, what were we planning to do now?"

Hermione raised a scholarly finger, then froze, "Oh…I…I hadn't actually got to that part."

"WHAT!" Harry screamed shaking Hermione by the shoulders as the wolf came closer, "Hermione, you've got to save me! My worst fear is, of course, loosing all my mops, but only just in second place is my fear of being eaten by a mutilated fruit bat/alien that resembles Abraham Lincoln from the side! Do something!"

Hermione panicked, "Uh, right. Hurry, get behind a tree. Maybe it's blind! And deaf…and has no sense of smell…and stupid wouldn't hurt…"

Harry jumped behind a centimeter thick sapling. "I'm ready, bring on the alien!"

Hermione blinked, "Yeah, definitely banking on the stupidity."

She quickly jumped behind a boulder as the wolf approached, growling menacingly.

"Psst!"

The wolf continued to sniff around aimlessly, growling as Harry made as much noise as is humanly possibly from one person standing still.

"PSST!" spat Harry, as he picked up twigs and snapped them in half. "PSST! HERMIONE, I HAVE SOMETHING TO TELL YOU!" He threw a rock at her, which bounced off her head, and stuck in her large clump of gum.

Hermione turned to him with wide angry eyes, "What!"

"Throw the chocolate to it!" said Harry, "Maybe it will distract him!"

Hermione gasped, "Why…why I never! What makes you think I…I have chocolate!"

Harry rolled his eyes, "Come on, Hermione, we all know. You show all the signs, and we found your little stash of coco in plastic baggies."

Hermione started sweating.

Harry nodded knowingly, "In the hollowed out copy of I'm Addicted to Your Lovin'?"

Hermione gasped, "Why were you reading Shilliam Wakespeare anyway? I never knew you were into hippie poets of the later 70's!"

Harry shook his head sadly, "Hermione, I think you are avoiding the issue here. The chocolate?"

Hermione's lower lip trembled, "Well…well it wasn't much. Just a little, to, you know, clear my mind while I studied!"

"It's time to just let it go, Hermione. Just let it go."

She bit her lower lip and, with her shaking hand she tossed a clear plastic bag of Hershey's bars toward Professor Lupin, sighing as it left her brown stained fingertips.

Lupin suddenly started talking again. "By jove, look, chocolate! You know, if there were anyone around right now, I would definitely not eat them and do all I could to help them save Sirius who is now most likely being preyed upon by dementors who-" Lupin's face turned blue and he stopped and gasped for breath. "Whew, I really need to cut down on the foreshadowing a little."

"Profess-!" Hermione began to call out.

"AHA!" Snape suddenly leapt out from behind a tree.

"Stupefy!"

Snape hit the ground.

Harry smiled, blowing smoke from his wand, "That never gets old!"

Hermione grabbed his arm and ran toward the ridge where Sirius was being preyed upon by dementors, as Lupin so accurately stated. "Hurry, let's hope Snape will keep him occupied so we can get away!"

So, the night was full of Snape's flying arms, legs, and other various appendages, as the two friends raced toward Sirius, hoping they would be soon enough to save their dear friend and themselves from death by over-affection.

"There, there you are!" whispered Hermione, pointing to the scenic knoll, where moonlight reflected off the glassy lake with a silvery glow, and Past Harry and Sirius were getting the happiness sucked out of them. "You know, this would be a really beautiful place…if it weren't for your tortured screams haunting my memories…"

"YES, MY DAD IS ON HIS WAY!" Harry jumped around, excited, "Any second now, he's going to show up!"

Hermione gasped, "Look, the dementor is about to kiss you!"

"Lookin for love in all the wrong places, lookin for love. Ooooooohh. Woooooooah. Yeah. Lookin for love…what?" Harry stopped singing as Hermione sent him a death glare. "No really, what!"

"Well, don't just stand there, do something! You're dying over there, and all you can do is butcher some karaoke oldies?"

Harry glanced at her nervously, "But…but you're the one that always does something about a problem. I'm just here to look pretty and come up with outrageous accusations that end up being true!"

Hermione put a comforting hand on his shoulder, "Harry, it's got to be you. I know you're more powerful than you think. If you would just look deep down inside…"

Harry blinked, "Is this going to take long, cause my dad's going to be here any second…?"

Hermione turned up her nose. "Fine. Just go and let someone else solve your problems…again!"

"I just don't get it, where is he! I'm dying down there!" Harry paced, while Past Harry below was yelling about just wanting to be friends.

Hermione suddenly brightened, "Wait…are you sure it was your dad?"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked defensively, "Of course I'm sure! He was thin and had knobby knees like me, and he had messy black hair like me, and he was loserish like me, and while the color of his eyes was unclear, I'm pretty sure it was him! I've seen pictures of him, Hermione! I mean, unless it were somehow actually me from a few minutes in the future standing there and conjuring the Patronus, then there's no way it couldn't be my dad!"

Hermione slapped her forehead.

Harry look confused, "What?"

"Harry, you are you from a few minutes in the future!"

"Wait, what?"

She sighed, "You're you…"

"Ok, I get that part."

Hermione blinked. "Really? I was expecting…oh, never mind…you're you from the future!"

Harry looked at her dumbly. "Okay, okay, I'm me?"

Hermione nodded, encouraging. "Right!"

"Fr…from the future?" Harry's eyes crossed slightly.

"Right, very good! Now, what does that mean?"

"Cool! I have a twin!"

"No, Harry! It means it wasn't your dad you saw…it was you!"

Harry gasped, "From the future!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes, right. Finally."

Harry tied on his red cape. "It all makes sense now; I know what I must do! I-"

"But can we skip the monologue this time?" said Hermione, pointing to the scene below, where Past Harry's face was turning blue as the dementor's vacuum of a mouth began to suck out his soul. "You're dying, remember?"

Harry winked, "Right." He donned a Shakespearean costume. "'O most cruel of fate, why dost thou knowest-"

"Just conjure a Patronum!"

Harry blushed, "Oh, right." He cleared him throat, drank a glass of water, gargled. "Eh hem…yes, that'll do nicely, now what was I…? Oh yeah…EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

Harry's cape billowed heroically as a silvery white stag erupted from his wand and cantered gracefully across the lake, charging the dementors with its spectral antlers.

Past Harry, his red cape torn and his cheek bleeding strategically in the right place to get a dramatic camera shot and look hurt, but not too bloody for PG, stretched out a quavering hand. "FATHER!" He then collapsed onto the ground.

Hermione crossed her arms. "Show off."

Meanwhile, Harry collapsed to his knees behind her, his face glimmering in the moonlight with tears. "WHY!"

"Are…are you sure about this? I mean, riding a hippogriff is really just like riding in an airplane?" Hermione stepped nervously unto Buckbeak's blood drenched back. She daintily nudged aside the severed arm tangled in his mane to make room for her leg.

"Positive!" said Harry brightly. "And that's why you're riding in back!"

Hermione frowned as Harry jumped on in front of her, "But why?"

"In case we experience a little turbulence, you'll go flying off the back…and not me!" He slapped Buckbeak's flank and the deranged hippogriff launched unsteadily into the air.

"WAAAAAAAHHHH!" Hermione latched her arms in a death grip around Harry's neck. "HARRY, I'M SCARED, MAKE IT STOP!"

"You're…blocking…windpipe…can't breathe…don't want…Boy Who Died…Strangled By Second Best Friend…Riding Evil Hippogriff!"

Buckbeak lurched to a stop in front of Sirius' window, which was open.

Sirius jumped to the window, "Harry, Hermione! At last! But how…?"

Harry's eyes bulged unnaturally. He opened his mouth and made a small wheezing sound.

Sirius squinted, "I'm sorry, what was that?"

"ssssssssuuwoossiits?"

Sirius shook his head, "Sorry Harry, I don't speak Parseltongue."

Harry shook his head, and held up two fingers.

Hermione clapped, "Oh, charades, I love this game! Okay, first word…"

Harry made a cutting gesture across his throat.

"Decapitation!" Shouted Hermione.

"Death!"

"Macnair is a pansy!"

Harry shook his abnormally bloated head. He made the gesture more forceful.

"Not!"

"Can't?"

Harry pointed, nodding.

"Okay, great! Can't…?"

Harry pantomimed breathing deeply, but ended up wheezing.

"Uh, last breath?"

Harry squinted.

"Close? Um…last supper."

"Last tests? Oh my gosh, finals! I have to study right away!"

Harry shook his head.

"No? Well, then…breathe?"

Harry nodded, his eyes rolling back in his head.

Sirius rested his chin in his hands. "Wait…hmmmm…can't…breathe…"

Hermione raised a hand, "Oh, I've got it: I Can't Breathe! Am I right?"

Harry was laying unconscious across Buckbeak's back. His eyes seemed to have turned into little x's.

"Harry! Don't worry Harry, I can do CPR!" Hermione quickly took out a large yellow book How to do CPR For Dummies. "Okay, step one; tilt the victim's head backward to open breathing passageways. Step two-"

"This is taking to long!" Raged Sirius, "I'll save you Harry! GAAARRRGHHHH!" Sirius beat Harry on the back, until he sat up, sputtering.

"Harry, you're alive!"

Harry looked around, "Am I? I thought this was heaven. But then I saw the creepy looking man hitting me with a bat and wondered if I wasn't in the wrong place."

Sirius looked hurt, "I'm Sirius, remember?"

Harry brightened, "Oh, right!"

Hermione suddenly gasped, "Oh yeah, Fudge will probably be back any minute with the dementors! Hurry through this conveniently open window and get on!"

Harry frowned, "Where are they, anyway?"

Meanwhile, outside the Little Dementor's Room…

Fudge tapped his foot impatiently to the sound of elevator music and the flushing of toilets. "I thought you things didn't need bathroom breaks! Stupid misleading television ads! And I thought Dim Lord Moat Lover Inc. was an honest corporation!"

In one of the pink stalls, a dementor started humming.

"And don't you start singing The Potty Song again, or so help me-"

"Well, here you are," said Harry, as they alighted on a stone terrace. Harry and Hermione hopped off Buckbeak.

Sirius patted Harry on the shoulder, "Well, Harry, it looks as if you might not be able to live with me for a while, at least until this whole thing blows over."

Harry looked downtrodden. "I know. I'll…I'll miss you, Sirius!"

Sirius smiled sadly, "Me too kid, me too." Sirius slapped Buckbeak and he lifted into the air, shrinking to a small black dot in the distance. "Oh, and by the way, tell that Ron kid to do something about his mold problem!" Sirius shouted back. Then he was gone.

Harry collapsed onto a stone bench dejectedly.

Hermione eyed him cautiously, as if he were about to explode. "Are you going to start crying again?"

Harry sighed. "I guess not."

"Yeah Potter, don't be a loser!" said a mysterious drawling voice.

"Can't help it," said Harry automatically. "I mean, uh, you're the loser, Malfoy!"

Draco stepped out of the shadows, "Look, I don't want any trouble, okay Potter? I just heard that Buckbeak was loose, and I was worried that I'd loose the other arm."

Hermione's face turned bright red, quite like another adorable little misfit we know and love, "You-take-that-back! Buckbeak is a beautiful, noble creature!"

Draco scowled, "It's a mangy freak of nature, and should be put down!" Draco's eyes took on a look of panic, "I mean, it snapped my arm off like it was nothing…IT HAUNTS MY DARKEST NIGHTMARES…along with my father's cane and a bad hair day." He shuddered.

Hermione twitched. "You'll not say that about Buckbeak." She drew back her fist and punched Draco.

He screamed and clutched his bloody nose. "What are you doing Granger? You…you broke my nose!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Oh please, I didn't even touch you. You could tell my fist was like four inches from your face the whole time!"

Harry laughed, "Yeah Malfoy, you're pathetic."

Draco looked confused, "But…but…but…she hit me! Buckbeak chewed off my arm! What won't anyone believe me?"

Hermione grabbed Harry's arm and started running, "Forget him, we've got thirty seconds to get back in the infirmary before Dumbledore locks the doors. Let's move!"

"But…but couldn't we just use magic?" asked Harry haltingly, as he was dragged up three flights of stairs.

Hermione huffed, climbing towards the infirmary with determination in her eyes. "Of course not! Don't be stupid!"

They managed to arrive at the infirmary just as Dumbledore backed out. He turned to meet them. "Well?"

Hermione nodded, "Sirius is safe, and so is Buckbeak."

Dumbledore smiled, mounting his big boy bike again, "Excellent, excellent. Now, Miss Granger, would you be so kind as to give me the Time Turner back?"

Hermione suddenly cackled with maniacal laughter, "Never, you old fool! Mwahahaha! Don't you see, I love the power of messing with space-time as we know it. I DEFY THE LAWS OF PHYSICS, AND I LIKE IT!"

Dumbledore blinked, "Eh? I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that." He chuckled, "I'm a little hard of hearing, you know."

Hermione's eyes darted shiftily, "I said, Look, a distraction!"

"Where! I'm going to get you this time!" He took off, wheeling lopsidedly down the corridor shouting "Yohooo!" in a singsong voice.

Harry frowned, "What was…?"

"Never mind, that's not important, we've got to get inside!" Hermione quickly pushed Harry through the door and closed it behind them. From his bed, Ron stared at them openmouthed.

"But…but…you were just over there?"

"No we weren't, you're just crazy," explained Harry.

Ron thought for a moment, then shrugged. "Oh, all right then."

Harry and Hermione managed to jump in their beds just as the infirmary door exploded open. Snape, his face red with rage ran through, followed by a nervous-looking Fudge, Macnair, and Dumbledore.

"POTTER DID IT, I KNOW HE DID! THE LITTLE BRAT IS GUILTY, I SAY. GUILTY, GUILTY, GUILTY!" Snape sprayed spit all over Harry, who blinked innocently at him. Hermione donned her Harry Spit Shield.

Fudge laughed deeply, "Oh, come now Severus, that's impossible. Madame Pomfrey assured us that they've been in the infirmary the whole time."

Snape's eye twitched convulsively, "YOU CAN SEE THE SMUG LITTLE LOOK ON HIS FACE. HE DID IT, POTTER DID! POTTER AND HIS LITTLE FRIENDS. THEY SET SIRIUS BLACK FREE!"

Dumbledore put a comforting hand on Snape's shoulder, "Now now Severus, why would Harry want to set free the man who was trying to kill him!" Dumbledore gave Harry a huge wink. "Isn't that RIGHT Harry?" He winked several more times.

Fudge frowned. "Got something in your eye, Albus?"

Dumbledore winked again and gave Harry a thumbs up, "Eh, Harry? Nod nod, nudge nudge, wink wink!"

Harry looked confused, "Er…what?"

Fudge blinked, "Anyway, that'll be all Severus, you can leave us now."

Snape stalked off, twitching and screaming. "THE DARK LORD SEES ALL!"

Dumbledore smiled sadly, "Ah, poor eccentric Severus."

Fudge, however, looked concerned. "I don't know Albus, if I were you, I'd watch out for that man."

The room was suddenly filled with a loud clanging and a whirring siren.

Ron covered his ears, "What is that awful racket?"

Dumbledore pressed a button and the ringing ceased. "Ah yes. You see, we decided that we didn't really care much about the safety of anyone at this school, except our boy Harry, of course." Dumbledore ruffled Harry's hair while Harry smiled good naturedly in an Aw Shucks type of way. Ron smoldered. "So, we decided to remove the People other than Harry Alarm and install a cool, expensive, and totally useless Foreshadow Alert instead. Isn't it great!"

Fudge waved away Dumbledore's enthusiasm, "Marvelous. But Albus, in all seriousness, you should think about raising your level of security at the school. Have you considered dragons?"

The Foreshadow Alert clanged possibly even louder.

Dumbledore shrugged, "Oh, I don't know. Though Hagrid would certainly like that. Ah yes, I'm afraid something will have to be done about the security. After all, the dementors haven't worked out too well, have they?"

Fudge nodded, "Most assuredly, something will be done! As for attacking an innocent student, I just can't imagine what could be wrong with them! It was as if they were working for the Dark Lord or something…"

The Foreshadow Alert clanged incessantly, rising higher and higher in pitch until the tiny red tinted bulb exploded into a million pieces. A solitary string of plastic coated wires hung desolately from the wreckage in the ceiling.

The room was filled with silence.

Harry blinked. "It…broke."

Dumbledore sighed sadly, "And I was just getting so attached to it. Yes, all the obvious foreshadowing happening in this room must have been too much for its poor little electronic heart." Dumbledore collapsed onto his knees, raising his hands to the heavens. "Why must the good die young! It was barely a microchip when I got it in the mail. I thought we could never reconcile when it went through those awkward rebellious calculator years, but I'd really gotten to know it. It was like my own brother…which I apparently do have, but isn't really mentioned much…oh WHY!"

At this point, all people capable of movement quietly tiptoed out of the room, leaving Dumbledore to his soliloquy about the anguish of fleeting youth. That just left Ron, all alone with Dumbledore.

Dumbledore turned tear-filled eyes to Ron, "You know what I mean, right? Nod nod nudge nudge wink wink, eh, eh, right? Right?"

Dumbledore prodded his cast good-naturedly, and Ron fumed. "Stupid leg injury."

Meanwhile, Harry and Hermione tiptoed out of the infirmary.

Hermione shrugged, "Well, I guess that just about wraps things up. Two innocent lives saved and everything returned to normal."

"Yeah, I guess so, but what about-ow!" A small furry missile collided with Harry's head.

"Duck and cover, duck and cover! DOWN DOWN DOWN!" Hermione yelled, as the Harry Alarm buzzed in the background and teachers dressed as commandos army crawled into the room. Helicopters whirred overhead and the hall was suddenly full of a lot of barbed wire.

Harry got up, massaging his head. "Oh, never mind. It's just an owl."

Professor McGonagall sighed, "False Alarm!" She shouted to the troops.

"Oh, come on!"

"You've got to be kiddin me!"

"When're we gonna see some action!"

They sulked away. Harry ripped open the package, and shoved away the excited little owl that was trying to cuddle. He read the letter aloud.

"It says: Harry, I'm sorry about the owl, it seems a little…excitable, and really just plain annoying. Do you think your friend, the annoying easily excitable one with the mold, would want him? Cause seriously, it's kind of getting on my nerves. It's been following me since Dublin, and I decided I'd send it to you, and it'd be your headache now. Smart, right? I know, I know, your Godfather's the best. But anyways, I only had enough room to enclose one thing, and while I could have given you crucial and emotionally satisfying information about your parents, or a Sneakoscope to make sure Ron doesn't adopt any more death eaters, I've enclosed your permission form to go to Hogsmeade. Don't know why…it's not actually that important, but I thought you might like it. Remember Harry, as an old friend likes to say, "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" Well…not the 'remember Harry' part, but you get the idea."

Harry sniffed, crying tears of joy, "I love my godfather!"

Hermione frowned, "But he's old, manky, and smells like an old boot."

Harry beamed, "But he's MY old boot!"

After reading Sirius' note, and delivering the annoying little twit of an owl to Ron, Harry went to the Defense Against the Dark Arts room to visit Professor Lupin.

"Professor? Hey, I was…Professor, what are you doing?"

Lupin was packing books, robes, and bars of chocolate into a battered suitcase. "I've resigned. I'm leaving this morning."

"But why? You're the best Defense teacher we've ever had!"

Lupin sighed, "I know." He smiled, "Heck yeah, I'm the best thing that's ever hit this school! I'm the greatest teacher ever! Who are THEY to sack ME? I'm going to go back right now and give them a piece of my mind. A danger to our students well being indeed, ha!"

Harry frowned, "Wait, you were sacked?"

Lupin glared, "Yeah, so, you got a problem with that?"

"No no, I just can't believe it, that's all. Just because you're a werewolf, doesn't mean you aren't a good person…wolf…teacher…thingy."

Lupin patted Harry on the shoulder, "Harry, I know you mean well, but that statement was extremely hurtful, and if you don't mind, I like to finish packing in peace, watering my dirty laundry with anguished tears." Dramatic music suddenly started up again as a single dramatic tear fell dramatically down Lupin's dramatic face.

"Do they follow you everywhere?" asked Harry, pointed to the orchestra seated behind Lupin.

He shrugged, "Pretty much. Such is the sad life of a werewolf."

The conductor sprang into action. Violins quavered.

"Well, good bye Harry Potter. Until we meet again." Lupin disapparated.

Suddenly someone was beating on the door. Hermione's muffled voice permeated feet of stone and mortar. "HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU PEOPLE, YOU CAN'T APPARATE OR DISAPPARATE ON HOGWARTS GROUNDS!"

Harry rolled his eyes, "Oh, whatever Hermione."

And so ends another year at Hogwarts…what could lie ahead for our reluctant hero? Dragons? Merepeople? A big Triangle Cup? Another evil plot? Losering? A…WHO PUT IN ANOTHER ALARM?

Cut to theme music—end.

High on a wind-ravaged hill, the old Victorian stood silent, waiting. Our focus zooms in through an upper story window to an old woman plodding along contentedly, dusting off old boxes and knickknacks, and watering a dusty old fichus plant.

Today was the fifth anniversary of her husband's death. She stopped dusting for a moment, then continued with new fervor. And she wasn't going to let it get in the way of normal life! What happened in this house had just happened, and that was that. Now he was gone, and there was nothing mysterious about it.

She slammed the feather duster on a dusty weathered table. "Come on Roberta, pull yourself together! It's not as if this day were different from any other. Just get back to work!" She slammed the duster again, sobbing. There was the tinkle of broken glass.

Surprised, Roberta stooped down and picked up a picture she had knocked off the table. It was her husband, young and tanned dark by the sun, posing on his first tractor.

She laughed in spite of herself. "Betty Lou." She said. He'd loved that thing, but he'd sold it. Sold it to buy her this very house.

She sighed. "Oh Joe, what are you doing to me?" She looked back down at his picture, to drink in another glance of his freckled cheeks and strong, gentle features, but gasped in horror.

The head in the picture was missing.

Roberta stumbled backwards, tripping over boxes in her frenzy to get to the attic stairs. "No, no, no! It's not real!"

A dark figure stood at the bottom of the stairs, highlighted by the light behind him, waiting for her.

"It can't be real!" She trembled, holding the shattered picture frame to her chest.

The stairs creaked as the figure came towards her.

"NO! I didn't mean it! I didn't mean it!" She sobbed, the figure drew closer. She stood cringing against a stack of boxes. "NO! NO!" Roberta stumbled backward, tripping over a box and landing on her fichus plant. She gasped, surprised for a moment, the thorns of the fichus stuck disconcertingly from her stomach. She was covered in cuts on her arms, hands, legs. On her face. She choked again, whispering the name.

"Edmund."

The scene swam oddly, the setting morphing slowly to that of a museum, dark and painted with weird angled shadows, thrown by the posed wax mannequins.

A single man walked through the rows of famous murderers and villains, captured and forever imprisoned in a wax likeness. He was the curator of an obscure wax museum in the bad part of Verona, Italy. He dusted off antique tables, and bent the wax finger of Jack the Ripper back into shape.

"Stupid kids," he muttered.

He straightened Molly the Axe Murderess' shawl, and came to a stop in front of the guillotine exhibit. A tall wax man was leaned against the guillotine, his hand curled around what looked like a live red flower. The dummy seemed to be missing his nose.

The curator sighed, "Oh, that's just wonderful! Now I have to made a new nose!"

He turned his attention away for a moment to grab a list of repairs off his cluttered desk. He felt a small push on his back. Astonished, he windmilled his arms through the air, falling down and down toward the guillotine.

The rope twisted, and the fat blade gleamed in the moonlight. There was a chop, and a thunk. The basket at the base of the guillotine wobbled for a moment, then settled. All was silent.

The scene shifted.

The dressing room of Bobo the Clown was bright and full of clutter. On a dilapidated old couch, Bobo pulled off his clown mask and large brown hat. He lit a rather battered cigar and propped his feet up on a cluttered endtable, accidentally knocking over a vase of fichus.

There was a pounding on the door.

Bobo glared and cursed under his breath.

"Bobo! Bobo! Will you sign my autograph book?" squealed the voice of a little girl outside the door.

"Me too!" shouted another. Then they all started shouting, about twenty of them.

Bobo sighed, and reached for his mask. He pitched his voice in that annoying, high pitched warble used by clowns everywhere that own a red rubber nose and are payed to say Super-de-Duper! "Uh, just a minute kiddies! Bobo's got to get ready!" His couldn't find the mask. Bobo riffled through papers and checked under the couch, treading lightly over the broken vase, although the flower seemed to be missing.

He plopped back down on the couch in horror. Someone'd stolen it. They'd stolen his identity, his career! He was a rising star in the field of clowning, they couldn't do this to him.

"Someone's stolen it…" he gasped, "someone STOLE MY FACE!"

Bobo, though now he was really just Marv Delbert without the magic the mask provided, answered the door. Twenty little kids' faces dropped.

"But…but you're not Bobo." She looked about ready to cry.

Marv panicked, "Uh, course I am kid! Whehew! I'm Bobo the Clown!"

The little girl glared, "No you're not, you're just a dirty old man."

"And you smell like emphysema!" shouted one boy with glasses too large for his head.

"WE WANT BOBO! WE WANT BOBO!"

Marv slammed the door. No! His fans, his career! His identity!

"NOOO!"

Then the kids started throwing fruit, and from there…it just got messy.

The scene brightened, then died away, another one in its place.

Dancers in masks and elaborate costumes whirled around the dance floor. Picture windows glinted gold in the candlelight, and the giant ballroom was filled with the sound of an orchestra playing waltzes. Everyone had a partner, except for two people standing against the wall, watching the merriment solemnly.

Personally, Stephanie didn't really like these masquerade ball things; the whole experience was definitely overacted. The lights were too bright, the music was too loud, and her friends had totally deserted her to dance with their dates. She squinted over to where Kimi and Lauren were prancing with their dudes. Traitors. Stephanie adjusted her plastic mask, already it was digging into her face. Alone, she sulked against the wall, the ruffles of her outrageous red ruffled dress creasing already. It's not as if she'd wanted to go anyways. Considering, she turned to the man on her left. He hadn't moved for the whole party.

"Well," she thought, "I need a date. He definitely needs a date. Why not ask him to go dance." She rolled her eyes and took a deep breath, "Just do it. The worst thing he can do is say no. Well…he could be a crazy axe murderer who's going to kill the first person who talks to him." She frowned. "Yeah, okay, not exactly the positive side."

She took a deep breath. The words just spilled out. "Would…would you dance with me cause I'm getting really tired of standing here and I noticed you were standing and you probably think I'm a total idiot right now but would you just dance with me even if it's out of pity but if you don't want to I'll understand but would you just say yes?"

The man continued to stare straight ahead, ignoring her.

She groaned inwardly, "Oh, real smooth Steph, you totally creeped him out."

She turned back to him, "Look, I'm sorry about all that. I'm just a nervous talker, you see, and when I get nervous I talk really really fast about nothing in particular so if I'm talking too much you can just stop me…oh, there I go again, whew!" She laughed nervously. The stranger didn't seem impressed. In fact, he didn't move at all.

"Hehe," she tittered. "Yeah…"

The dude didn't so much as blink.

Stephanie glared. "No way he's going to treat me like that!" she thought. She opened her mouth to shout at him, but paused for a moment to get rid of her tacky party tiara. There was no way anyone was going to take her seriously with a hunk of green plastic proclaiming PRINCESS IN DISGUISE to the entire room sitting on her head, messing with her twenty dollar hairdo. Yeah, great party favors. She glared over at Kimi, who was swaying and laughing to the music. Oh, of course she looked good in hers!

Stephanie's nostrils flared. "Okay, listen pal, I don't know who you think you are, but there's no way I'm just going to let you stand there smirking at me behind a mask where I can't even see it. If you want to say something, then say something!"

The guy didn't so much as blink.

"What are you, deaf or something?"

"It's time for the unmasking!" The slightly drunk host slurred into the microphone, wobbling precariously. The embarrassed hostess ran onto the stage and supported him. "No no, I'm okay honey, really. Oh…ohkay now…grab your girl 'n take off her mask!" The mic whined with static. "Really Margie, I'm okay, I just had a…few…"

Stephanie stood hands on hips, tapping her foot. "Fine, you don't want to just look at me and say no like any normal person, then fine!"

The guy didn't move.

Stephanie felt her cheeks burning. Her vision swam with tears. "Well FINE!" She pushed him with all her might, and he immediately toppled to the floor with a cold thud, his mask falling off in the process. Stephanie screamed in horror.

All the skin on his face had been removed.

She screamed again.

The music screeched to a halt as everyone gathered around the corpse. A man in a white suit pushed his way through.

"Excuse me, excuse-EXCUSE ME! Mind where you're putting that umbrella!" He parted the seas of multicolored costumes and knelt before the man. "Hmmm…"

Stephanie's breath kept getting stuck in her throat.

The doctor looked up, "He seems to be…dead."

Stephanie rolled her eyes, "Well duh!"

The crowd began to shout, and a lone man in a matador costume exited unnoticed in the frenzy. The only thing to suggest he had ever been there was a single long stemmed fichus, crimson red against the polished pearl of the floor.

The sounds began to fade and the colors blurred.

"EDMUND!" Lucy jolted awake, breathing heavily. She sighed and pushed her matted hair out of her face, struggling with the sheets that had managed to become wrapped around her legs. She sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, gathering her senses. The moon glinted pale though her half-drawn shades and washed her face of all color.

"I'll find you, Edmund…I'll find you."

End of Chapter…or is it?

No really, it is.

Thanks for all the reviews, we love them. Really. So send them. Really. And now ends Azkaban, next up is Goblet, who knows what kind of stuff can top all this? We'll find something.

Oddly