Frightened and bewildered, Harry and Hermione ran as fast as they could around the corner and down several flights of stairs. As they rounded another corner, Snape was waiting. Quicker than a flash of lightning, he whipped out a pair of tweezers and removed Hermione's eyes.

"AHHHHH! NO!!! AH! My eyes! My eyes!" Hermione screamed hysterically. "Harry, help me!"

Harry didn't know what to do, other than attack Snape. But, as fast as Hermione's eyes were removed, Snape put two revolving dice in their place. Hermione fell into a trace-like state, and no longer seemed to care about her eyes. So it had happened. Harry was alone in a school of dice-eyed psychopaths.

"Join us Harry. You can see so much better, granted everything has a red tint to it, but other than that everything is grand!" said Hermione

"Not a chance!" exclaimed Harry.

He ran out the Gryffindor house, through the painting, into the common room into his bunkroom. Harry closed and locked the doors to the bunkroom.

"Entrificus Againstthedoorius!" exclaimed Harry, waving his wand. All the bunks flew at the door, piling up in front of it. Harry looked over, cowering on the floor, was Neville Longbottom.

"Neville! What are you doing on the floor?" asked Harry.

"Harry?" said a tearful Neville, looking up.

"Yeah," replied Harry.

"You don't have dice for eyes," replied Neville.

"Neither do you," said Harry. "What are you doing on the floor?"

"Hiding from the dice eyed people," replied Neville.

"Are you scared of them?" asked Harry.

"No, I was trying to figure out how to figure out how to fix it," replied Neville.

"Well, apparently we have a Mime infestation again too..." replied Harry.

"Mimes?!" exclaimed Neville, who then let out a loud scream and dove under the stacked beds.

"Great," replied Harry.

At that exact moment, Harry heard the fluttering of wings coming through the open window of the room. Hedwig had returned, and she was carrying a scroll of parchment in her beak. She dropped the message at Harry's feet.

"Sirius's reply!" shouted Harry, picking it up and reading it eagerly.

Alas, there was only one sentence written: "I have a wedgie." Harry was just wondering why Sirius felt it was important to let him know about his wedgie, when the bunk beds returned to their proper positions, as Neville screamed and sought cover.

The door burst open. Hermione's dice eyes had stopped revolving. She was always good at charms, and it appeared as though she had just used one to break open the lock. Her wand was outstretched in front of her, aimed at Harry. By her side was Ron, who also had his wand out and ready. The sum of Hermione's dice was 11, Harry noticed; he made a mental note not to say eleven. Ron's dice eyes too, had stopped all motion. The one in his right eye socket displayed four dots, but the one in his left eye said "Made in Las Vegas."

"How do you add that?" Harry wondered aloud.

"Nevermind, just join us," Hermione urged. "It's so much better...."

Just then a mime burst into the room.

"Its days like these that I long for the cupboard under the stairs," said Harry making way for the door. Ron and Hermione followed Harry. The Mime stayed put, pretending to run. The Gryffindor common room was filled with every single one of the dice people. Harry jumped up on the table.

"Everyone, your attention please! I want everyone to look at their neighbor's dice and read the number," instructed Harry. Everyone followed his directions, reading each other's numbers aloud. Sparks fizzled in the air. The spell was in overload. With a loud pop, everyone's eyeballs were restored. There was much rejoice.

"Yay," replied everyone else in the room.

"Well that was an awfully simple solution. Why didn't you think of it sooner?" asked Hermione.

"To be honest, it just suddenly occurred to me that this spell was like simple household wiring. You plug in the dishwasher and the stove and everything is fine. Then you plug in the toaster and the house goes DARK!" explained Harry.

"Makes sense to me," replied Ron. "But how do you explain the Mimes?"

"Hagrid forgot to spray for them this fall," replied Harry.

Everything would have been considered returned to normalcy, but Mr. Whipple, the toilet paper guy, hooked up to a respirator, wheeled into the room in a fluffy pink diaper...

"Here we go again," said Harry.

THE END
As for this sequel...