I'm back

I'm back! Boo! The author glares evilly at the audience, who is also back. The audience shuts up. You guys loved me so much I am back with the next chapter! That's a laugh. What is? The fact that I have a new chapter? No. That line about 'they really love you.' The author glares at the character, named Bob, and he vanishes in a puff of smoke to FanFic Character Heck. Any more comments? No? Good. Now where we last left off, Snape and Malfoy were headed for the Gryffindor table, good? Good. (And I am very sorry for not posting this sooner, but I've been busy. No, I am not going to tell you with what! This is long enough all ready!)

(Oh, yeah, Italics mean the audience, underlined means the author; bold means an action performed by the audience or author and this means the actual story. 'Kay?)

Harry Potter and the Badly Written Try at Humor

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters that are in this story. If I did own them, I would be living in a mansion somewhere. Talking to Warner Bros. executives on the amount of money I'm making on all the licensed Harry Potter products. (Bitter? Me?) Also, I don't own the Wizard of Oz. You'll see what I'm talking about later.

The Great Hall was packed as it always was at breakfast. Snape and Malfoy wove their respective paths through the crowds. The two were almost there. The Gryffindor fifth-years were snorting behind their hands with barely suppressed laughter.

Snape was the first to reach the table. He stood behind Fred Weasley. Fred was just bringing a forkful of chicken noodle pie up to his mouth when Snape said…Hey, wait. What the heck is chicken noodle pie? What kind of food are you giving these characters? Shepherd's pie, steak and kidney pie, chicken noodle pie, what's the difference? He's eating it isn't he? Now be quiet, or go to Bob. The audience looks back at the FanFic. That's better. The author restarts the story.

Fred was just bringing a forkful of chicken noodle pie up to his mouth when Snape said, "Mr. Weasley. I expect you have your five-foot long essay on Cooling Concoctions?" The Gryffindors stared in amazement. What was going on? Our thoughts exactly.

The look on Fred's face told him that he had no clue what the heck a Cooling Concoction even was. "No?" Snape asked silkily. "We'll discuss this matter in class." Snape walked towards the High Table where Professors Trelawney and McGonagall were playing footsies. Ew. Where did that come from?

Malfoy was venturing towards the Gryffindor table. The sick-puppy-dog-full-of-love expression was easily readable on his face. His hands were locked in front of him like a schoolgirl's and he was swaying. The Gryffindor boys grinned. "If we can't get Fred, at least we can get George back." Ron said, in a very evil tone of voice. The boys started to rub their hands together in that evil, mad scientist kind of way. Luckily, Harry remembered to tell them all to stop, or they'd be there all through the rest of the story.

Draco sauntered up to George. "Oh, Weasley," he purred in George's ear. George sat up with a start. He spun to face Malfoy. A fearful expression was beginning to dawn on his face. "I just want to say…" Malfoy gave a small twitch. "That I hear your family is so poor that they don't even have a house elf."

Draco Malfoy pondered this last put-down for a second. "What was that?" he asked the air. "'You don't even have a house elf'? How lame." Ah, shut up and get back into character. Malfoy, still shaking his head and muttering about inept writers turned back to George.

"And that your car is so old, it's made of rock." Draco looked straight ahead in horror at the extremely lame joke he had just uttered. He threw his hands up towards the sky.

Malfoy then walked away looking rather smug, seeing as how he can't walk any other way. The instant he was ten feet away from George he looked back at him, sighed, and skipped away. Harry and his friends were staring openly at Malfoy. All the rest of the Great Hall was too, having never seen a Malfoy skip.

"Okay," Harry said, sounding like a fifteen year-old Patton. "We need to regroup, men. Lets meet back at the dorm at 0900 hours." All the rest of them stared at him. "Five minutes from now," Harry said with a sigh. "Oh!" the others all said, realizing what the heck Harry had said. Harry slapped his forehead.

The five of them trooped back into the common room and headed straight up to the dorm. Seamus quickly closed and locked the door. He then collapsed onto a bed. Dean kicked Neville's cauldron spilling the rest of the potion onto the floor. The magical floors quickly absorbed it.

"What could have gone wrong?!" he yelled frustrated. "We worked for a hard two seconds worth of reading on that potion! What could have gone wrong?" he repeated.

"I know exactly what went wrong," a female voice said behind them. They all quickly spun to see Hermione. She was leaning against the door's frame with her copy of "Moste Potente Potions".

Ron, wrongfully thinking the end of the story had come, yelled, "Thank you, author!" and ran for Hermione. His arms outstretched, he raced for her, his lips puckered. Hermione stood there calmly, flicking through her book. Ron was getting closer and closer to her. At the last second, Hermione whipped out a very heavy frying pan and held it out.

Wham! Ron ran right into it and was down for the count. Hurray! Hermione quickly enervated him. Boo. "Now," she started. "I know what you did." The others all gaped at her.

"B-but how?" Neville choked. "How do you know? And how did you get in? Seamus locked the door."

"The author told me, and the Alohamora charm," she said simply. The boys all stared accusingly at the ceiling. The author is whistling as innocently as he can. Which isn't very. "Ahem," Harry coughed.

What, you think it was me? The audience and the Gryffindor boys yell, "YES!" Well, it wasn't me. It was, uh, Bob. That guy I banished at the start. It, uh, it was, er, revenge! Yeah, he did it for revenge. Tell 'em, Hermi.

"It was him," she said simply. "And I hate being called 'Hermi'. I was with you up to that point." Drat. "Anyway, the author told me after Malfoy started skipping what was going on. I came up here found my book and the potion laying there. I analyzed it carefully, ran it through several tests and concluded it was a Love Draught. I looked up the page in my book and re-read its entry and all the entries pertaining to it, to see what you did wrong.. So, any questions?"

All members involved in this were staring at her mouths agape.

"You did all that?" Ron asked her and flinched, in case there was another frying pan.

But all Hermione did was simply answer, "Yes."

"In the space of three paragraphs?"

"Yeah." She was beginning to look at Ron like he was mentally slow.

"But you weren't in here," he said desperately.

"Your point being?" she said slowly.

"Okay then, fine," he said with a shrug, giving up.

The audience begins to drift off again. You think they'd learn. The author grabs a low-pressure fire hose and drenches them. The audience wakes up and glares at the author who is holding the hose behind his back and whistling.

"It says right here what you did wrong. 'Unless this draught is concocted on the day of St. Valentine's Day, the user of said draft will only slobber over the person of the potion's affect when they are ten feet or more away.' See? Oh and it also says, 'If the taker is a Malfoy, then he will skip around until the potion wears off and all insults will be totally pointless.'" Hermione snapped the book shut. "Anymore questions?"

Neville tentatively raised his hand. "Why would they use 'feet' in a British book?" For once Hermione didn't have the answer to a question. Realization dawned over her as she looked on the back. There was a small red line in the corner with a tiny white book. "Because it was printed in America. By Scholastic books."

"The best publisher in the world," Harry said to the audience, giving a thumbs-up and a wink. Now I definitely can't be sued. "So what do we do?" he asked Hermione.

"Well to tell the truth, I'm really not too sure. Maybe we should see Dumbledore," she said, with a nod.

"WHAT?!" the boys all yelled at her. Her tall pointy witch's hat flew off her head. Why don't the boys ever wear their wizard hats? You know I was wondering the same thing just yester…hey! You guys need to be quiet. Remember Bob.

"We can't go to Dumbledore," Harry explained through gritted teeth. "It's illegal to create love potions. You know that!"

Hermione gasped. "That's right. I just remembered! It is illegal! I can't be caught with fugitives! I don't want to go to Azkaban!" she shrilled. She ran for the door. Seamus jumped and stopped her by tackling her to the floor.

"Hermione, listen," Seamus said. "we are not going to Azkaban. It was a prank gone wrong." Don't they sell that video on late-night infomercials? Shhh! "But if you think it's best, we'll go to Dumbledore. Right guys?" They all nodded eagerly. Seamus gently let Hermione up.

Two minutes later, (Hermione had to straighten her robes) the six of them were at the top of the steps leading down o the common room.

"Ready?" Harry asked Hermione offering her his elbow.

"Ready," she replied. All of them joined elbows.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhh, we're off to see the Wizard! The Wonderful Wizard of Oz! He is, he is, a wiz of a wiz, if ever a wiz there was! If ever, oh ever, a wiz there was, the Wizard of Oz is one because; because, because, because, because, because! Because of the wonderful things he does! (Yah tada tada dada!) We're off to see the wizard! The Wonderful Wizard of Oz!"

All throughout this little number, sung in perfect key, the six of them 'wizard walked' down the steps. Even Neville. What the heck's a 'wizard walk'? You know, that weird skipping kind of walk they have in the movie. The author reads the last sequence. You know this could be better.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhh, we're off to…aaaaah!" Instead of signing on key and wizard walking gracefully, they sang off key, tripped and fell flat on their faces. A great cheer arose from the audience. I knew it.

After a quick recuperation period, they set off for Dumbledore's office. They quickly reached the stone gargoyle and began to guess the password. They failed miserably.

"Lemon Drop."

"Sherbet lemon"

"Cockroach cluster"

"Acid pops"

"Chocolate Fudge"

Hermione simply scoffed, stood in front of the gargoyle, and said, "Pencil shavings." The gargoyle sprang to life and got out of the way. Harry looked in confusion at the gargoyle.

"But I thought the password was supposed to always be the name of a candy," he said frowning.

"Take it up with the author," the gargoyle said. It was sipping a cup of coffee in an easy chair. All of them stared at it. "What?" it asked. "I'm on my break. I need one every now and then, too."

He's right. And I will. It is always supposed to be a candy. Can you say cliché? I wanted something different, so quit your griping.

Shaking their heads and muttering about inept authors, they set up towards Dumbledore's great office. Seamus, Dean, and Neville, not being on speaking terms with Professor Dumbledore, opted to wait at the bottom. The moving staircase… Escalator. I know that. I'm just writing what it says in the books. Yeah, whatever. With a poof of imploding air, Jimmy disappeared to the FanFic Character Heck. He met up with Bob quickly, seeing as how they are the only two occupants. Now, back to the story. The moving staircase quickly moved up to the large wooden door with the griffin-head knocker.

Harry took the knocker in hand and knocked the griffin-head. The door creaked open. Out of nowhere, a streak of red and gold slammed into Harry. It started licking Harry on the face with a very small, thin tongue. Hermione and Ron pulled it off him and he got a good look at just who his assailant was. It was Fawkes.

"I do apologize," they heard a voice say behind him. They turn and see Albus Dumbledore standing there with a twinkle in his eye as par usual. "He's going through his mid-life crisis. He thinks he's a Retriever. Now if you excuse me, I am taking care of someone else at the present moment." He put Fawkes back into his cage (where a rubber chew bone lay) and proceeded to his back office. He has a back office? I'm warning you…

The three of them sat in large, squashy armchairs for a few minutes when they heard a long, moaning sob come from the back office. Looking at each other, they all rose and snuck over to the door. They could hear Dumbledore saying, "Now Severus, what is the matter?"

They heard the sobbing end and become stifled chokes. "Albus, I-I-I'm…I'm…I'm resigning. Effective tomorrow." Harry and Hermione heard a clunk from next to them. It was Ron. He had keeled over with joy.

Ta-da! One more chapter of one of the best humor stories ever written by someone who has no clue what he's doing. What do you think is going on? Why is Snape resigning? What will happen to Malfoy? Do the Weasleys get off scot-free? You tell me! I am expecting plenty of reviews and plenty of good ones. I have an idea for the next (and final) chapter! So stay tuned! Same ff.net time (well not really), same ff.net URL (unless of course, they change it).