Author's Note: Time for a little more silliness. We're nearing the end of year 5. Hope you enjoy!

"How dare she!" Voldemort hissed as he saw the newest gossip column that Skeeter had written gushing over Harry Potter, the brat who just wouldn't die, and his 'cool new snake' or as he knew her, Nagini.

The Traitor!

"Wormtail!"

"Yes, master?"

"Your arm!" The dark lord sneered as he pressed his wand into the squirming rat's arm, making the tattoo black as he hissed at it. "It is time to gather my followers and unleash my most faithful!"

Uriel, Gabriel, and Raziel were playing cards with the two human guards that were staffing Azkaban at the moment- a man named Watts and a woman named Bailey- and they were having a grand time. While there was little they could bet against one another, it was a lot more fun than just tormenting the crazies up in the Death Eater wing.

"Flush," Uriel proudly announced as he laid down his cards. "Jack high."

"Not bad," Raziel commended his old friend as he tossed his cards.

"You and your damn luck," Bailey moaned.

"That beat me," Gabriel pouted. "Again."

"Well, it is a really good hand," Watts said before he started to grin and revealed his own cards. "Just not quite as good as a full house."

"Ha!" Gabriel laughed, pointing a bony finger at Uriel. "About time someone took you down!"

"Well done, mortal," Uriel bowed his cloaked head.

"Thanks."

Unfortunately, the next hand was interrupted as a warning siren blared.

"Intruders?" Bailey asked. "The alarm must be faulty."

"It hasn't happened in more than a decade," Watts frowned as he reached for his wand.

"I'll go check it out," Raziel said as he glided towards the door.

"You sure, mate?" Gabriel asked.

"I haven't had a good hand in the last hour anyway."

He floated down the stairs and out the main door, where he saw a number of figures in black robes, most of them masked. But they definitely smelled like mortals, and Raziel felt more than a little annoyed at the way these people had infringed on his own 'black is always cool' aesthetic. Therefore, he let loose his aura.

Now, fun fact about a Dementor's aura... it smells really bad. Yes, the mind-numbing depression and anguish is awful, but it also tends to smell like the worst thing you can imagine. Decaying corpses, skunks, toe fungus, leaky garbage bags- if just thinking about it makes you want to barf, chances are the Dementors will make you breathe it in when they approach.

Even psychopaths and hardened killers like the Death Eaters were not immune.

But Voldemort, having no nose, proved to be quite resistant to this feature. Thus, he strode forward and announced, "I have come to form an alliance with the Dementors of Azkaban."

Raziel sighed. Every couple of years there would be some door to door salesman offering up the blackest of magics, necromancy, unlimited souls to feast upon and countless other silly ideas. As if they could be bought off by such things? Even the Jehova's Witnesses had finally stopped coming by, but now there was this red-eyed serpentine demon fellow and his band of posers.

"We're not interested."

"Let me speak to your leader," Voldemort countered. "I will rule this land, and by my side, you shall be able to feast as your never have before."

Now, Raziel was really starting to get annoyed. He just wanted to go back to playing cards with his mates, but this weirdo didn't seem to take the hint. However...

He hadn't gotten a chance to see the Almighty Steve really smack someone around for decades, so maybe it would be a fun idea to go bother the boss.

"Alright, wait here."

As he glided back into the prison, he missed a brief conversation taking place near the shore.

"You know what to do, Wormtail!" Voldemort ordered. "Do not fail me!"

"Yes, master!"

A rat scurried up the stairs and towards the maximum security area.

"Hey, boss?" Raziel hesitated as he knocked on the door.

"Come in," a voice answered.

Stepping inside, he found the Almighty Steve stretched out on a couch watching old Monty Python reruns on the telly.

"We've got some bozos outside who are asking to speak to you," Raziel explained.

"Anyone in particular?" Steve asked as his skeletal hand reached for the remote.

"I'm not sure who the main idiot is, but his group are all dressed in black," Raziel said.

"Goth posers?" Steve wondered as he got up.

"Seems like it to me, yeah."

Gliding over to a calendar on the wall, Steve tapped at it and thought. "It's not Samhain, so this isn't another thing about pagans or druids or any of that nonsense. I wonder why they're bothering us this time. Did you notice anything in particular about them."

"The guy who did all the talking was weird looking," Raziel replied. "He didn't have a nose or any hair, but he did have these creepy glowing red eyes."

"Of course he did," Steve sighed as he glided out into the hallway. "Let's go deal with these pests."

Up several floors, a rat turned back into a man and started unlocking doors.

"Who is it?" Bellatrix demanded as she peered out into the hall before rolling her eyes. "The little coward? What are you doing here?"

"The master has returned," Wormtail answered. "He is speaking with the Dementors about forming an alliance, but he sent me up here to start releasing-"

"His most loyal servants," Bellatrix interjected with a cackle. "Oh, Voldie poo, I'm coming, darling!"

She pranced down the hallway, giggling to herself all the way. Pettigrew turned to the next cell and eyed Rudolphus Lestrange who looked rather annoyed.

"Can you believe I had to marry that nutcase?" Lestrange wearily asked.

"Um... yes, well..."

"Let the others out first," Rudolphus said. "In case something goes wrong, I'll make the sacrifice of staying behind."

From across the hall came a snort. "Yeah, some sacrifice."

Pettigrew opened that door instead and out stepped Rabastan Lestrange. "I told you, 'don't stick your dick in crazy,' brother, but did you listen to me?"

"I know, I know," Rudolphus sighed. "But don't you remember the rack on her? I hardly think I'm the only guy who got tricked by listening to his dick."

"Bachelor life's the way to go," Rabastan replied as he shook hands with his brother. "Want me to tell mum hello?"

"Please."

"Alright, see you later."

"Who disturbs the Dementors of Azkaban?" the Almighty Steve asked as he floated down the steps leading to the prison and onto the rocky beach where the intruders were waiting. He had to agree with Raziel's impression of them- a bunch of black robed losers trying to pull off the 'spooky, dark wizard' look were anything but impressive. Maybe if it hadn't been the fiftieth time some similar group came to them.

At least a few of the necromancers were funny every now and then.

"I am Lord Voldemort," the red-eyed head weirdo hissed in a shrill voice.

"Never heard of you," Steve said with a shrug.

"The greatest wizard alive, immortal sorcerer, soon to be conqueror of-"

Steve yawned and held up a hand. "Will you just get to the point already? My friend has a poker game to get back to, and I was in the middle of something important."

Vegging out on the couch counted as important, right? Well, certainly more important than whatever this malarkey was.

"Ally with me and you will be released, able to feed in much greater quantity, especially among the filthy muggles and-"

"Pass."

"What!?"

"I said, pass," Steve replied. "We're not interested, so piss off."

Before he could turn around and head back inside, a cackling voice rang out. "Oh, my dearest! Bellatrix is coming, master!"

A wild-eyed witch came skipping down the stairs and flung her arms around the odd-looking guy in the front.

"I've missed you so much, baby!" she squealed in delight as she wrapped herself around his lower body and began making a rather disturbing noise.

Steve looked over at Raziel who raised his arms in confusion. "Isn't she the psycho who actually likes it when we go by on our patrols?"

"Oh yeah," Raziel nodded. "How could I forget the one who asks for 'more aura' all the time?"

"It smells so good!" Bellatrix answered with a giggle. "Like someone being burned alive after having all their skin flayed off!"

Rabastan Lestrange slipped quietly over into the faceless ranks of the other Death Eaters. He couldn't blame his brother for staying behind.

"Call the others!" Steve growled at Raziel. "It's time we attack!"

"Woohoo!" Raziel agreed as he let out a piercing shriek and summoned icy magic to his hand, sliding forward to grab one of the goths.

Steve had already clamped onto one of them and was proceeding to slurp out the soul of a man named Yaxley. As a government employee on top of being a terrorist, he was extra tasty, a nasty little morsel that only spurred on the Almighty Steve's resolve to make these buffoons pay for interrupting his evening.

Voldemort sent a burst of flames towards Raziel, burning his cloak, and called out, "Retreat!"

Many Death Eaters fled, although the authorities later found that four perished in the escape attempt.

Once the commotion had died down, Steve headed back upstairs to his couch.

"It would have been funnier if they had all shouted, 'run away,' instead."

"Yeah," Raziel agreed. "But we don't have a vicious, attack bunny."

"We'll have to put that on our list for Santa," Steve said. "A few rabid rabbits would liven the place up."

Thankfully for Harry Potter, the news wouldn't break until the following day. At the same time, he was very busy in Hogsmeade.

Between escorting his main honeys, Fleur coming for a visit and demanding even more attention, and the first 'sanctioned' solitary mission he'd accepted with Daphne, the villagers repeatedly had their heads turned by a hand full of Harry Potters in the town that day. His time turner was getting a serious work out.

"So, what do you want to do today?" Harry number three asked Daphne.

"From my research, it is customary for those on a date to visit several establishments while holding hands and engaging in flirtatious banter," she answered. "If things go well, there may be some further public displays of affection, possibly even involving osculation."

"Oscu-what?" he scratched his head.

"Kissing," she said as she slowly rolled her eyes.

Harry nodded as he watched her facial expression- it was really good, almost life like. "So, that all sounds cool. But is there anything specific that you'd like to do?"

"Why do you ask?" she raised an eyebrow.

"I'm sure you've got your own missions and what not," he replied. "Whatever your programming might have going on, you know, and I'm not completely averse to getting into trouble with you. Just keep any laser guns or death rays pointed at the bad guys."

"I don't have any laser guns," Daphne scoffed and a scowl briefly formed. "Plus, I believe it would be dangerous to practice trying to use the killing curse. A criminal record would be contrary to my goals for the future."

"Right," he nodded. "So...?"

"Take my hand," she ordered. Once Harry had done so, she further prodded him. "I believe now you should begin the flirtatious banter."

"Okay," he looked her over and smiled. "I really like your outfit today. The um... clothing module selection is smokin' hot."

"It is actually rather cool, especially for the weather," Daphne countered as she motioned down to her green dress and grey leggings. "But I am a witch, and I learned the warming charm for a reason. Besides that, I was told by multiple people that making a good first impression upon a romantic interest is preferable, and today is our official first date."

"I guess it is," Harry murmured. "Want to get some sweets?"

"Absolutely!" she grinned.

"Really?" He stumbled for a second at the surprising sight. Had he come across a secret backdoor in her assassination protocols?

"I know my reputation," Daphne said as she tugged on his arm towards Honeydukes. "However, that does not mean that I don't enjoy chocolate. Every witch enjoys chocolate."

Harry nodded and watched her eyes light up as they wandered through the aisles.

Skynet had done a really good job on this aspect of her design at least. It reminded him of Parvati and Padma and all the chocolate bars they never let him eat. At least in Fleur's case, she only liked that dark, bitter stuff that he couldn't stand, so it was no big loss.

Seeing Daphne begin to devour the treat he bought her, Harry came upon a brilliant idea- just as she finished a bite, he leaned in and kissed her.

"Yummy," he said with a smile.

"I do not believe we had reached the correct time for that," Daphne frowned as she took another bite.

"Let's just say that I couldn't help myself because of your great beauty," he argued with a smirk. "You've got to be the hottest replicant since Daryl Hannah from Blade Runner."

"I don't know what that means," she said.

"Trust me, it's a compliment."

By the time he crawled into bed that night, Harry was exhausted. Very, very happy, but exhausted. Having four honeys was probably his limit because even with all his time traveling shenanigans and multiple lunches he'd eaten, he was out of energy and had to ask Dobby to bring him a late night snack.

The next day, everything changed though once he saw the paper. The escaped Death Eaters could only mean one thing:

Training montage time!

Harry called a meeting for the entire Lifting Army that night and many reps were to be had. His bros (and lady bro, counting Millie) all knew it was time to get serious. Even the little dudes were doing their part. He knew the time for a big kick ass battle had to be coming soon.

The interesting thing was that Longbottom in particular got super serious about working out, and even more so, about dueling and learning how to fight with magic. He asked several people for help with his spell work, including Harry, and over the next few weeks he went from dead last in Defense to a quite respectable middle of the pack for their year.

Madam Pomfrey got tired of seeing him in her infirmary though, as he had taken to challenging practically everyone to duels. Neville didn't even seem to care that he lost more than half of them.

While the determination was pretty rad and Harry had to respect it, he also was curious about why the most quiet of his dudes was doing all this.

"So, Nev, what's up with the new fighting spirit?" he asked one evening. "I mean, the other day, you challenged Hermione to a duel and you didn't stutter once. Not even after she'd hit you with the stuttering jinx. I was proud, bro!"

"Thanks, Harry," the shy boy replied.

"I'm just wondering what's the deal."

"I..." Neville looked around the dorm and gulped. "Promise you won't say anything?"

"Sure," he shrugged.

Longbottom got a newspaper out from under his pillow and handed it over. "I look at that every night before I go to sleep."

Harry saw that it was a cover story of a witch who had escaped from Azkaban and he started to frown because Bellatrix Lestrange was definitely not honey material. The years in the prison clearly hadn't done her any good, judging by the most recent photo anyway, but even more disturbing was the crazed look in her eye.

"Look, Nev, I've got to give you some very important advice," he solemnly began. "Never stick your dick in crazy."

"What!?" Longbottom sputtered.

"I'm not judging you for being into older women," Harry held up his hand. "Or even chicks who are a little rough around the edges. If that's your sort of thing, you do you, alright? But this chick looks super nuts."

"I don't..." Neville snatched the paper back and swore to himself. "Bellatrix Lestrange is one of the people who put my parents in St. Mungo's. I want revenge, not... not that."

Judging by the blushing, Harry had to wonder if his bro had ever had some of that, but at least now he wasn't concerned about waking up to a lunatic up in the dorm. "Okay, well revenge is something else. I can totally get behind that, you know. There's a ton of kick ass revenge movies- it's probably one of my favorite genres. I'll have to show you one. Maybe Mad Max? Or Darkman? No, I'm thinking Death Wish. Can't go wrong with Bronson."

"Death Wish?" Neville paled. "What are you talking about?"

"It's all about this guy who has to learn what it takes to get revenge," Harry explained. "That sounds like you to me. We'll watch it tomorrow with the LA."

Harry had no idea of any possible limitations of the Room of Requirement, so it didn't seem unusual to go there with the LA to watch a movie. He'd told his honeys about it as well, and while Padma and Parvati had gone to the theater with him a couple of times over the summer breaks, neither of them sounded particularly interested in watching a movie about becoming a bad ass vigilante and teaching scumbags a lesson. Plus, Padma lectured him about not traumatizing his little dudes with movies that weren't meant for eleven year olds.

That wasn't really something that Harry knew much about- after all, the Thicc Daddy had been using pop culture to teach him all sorts of lessons about the necessary application of violence since he was about eight years old. He always thought that was cool. What type of kid wouldn't enjoy a homework assignment to watch Star Wars? Even the next day's lecture about how to build a better super weapon (one without vulnerable thermal exhaust ports) and to always keep an eye on your periphery so that you don't get blindsided by a scruffy-looking nerf herder just when you think you're about to vanquish your foe.

And of course, Thanos had leaned hard on the fact that Darth Vader was such an awesome bad ass and that villains are often cooler than heroes.

But back to the topic of the Death Wish screening...

Daphne had been quite intrigued by the idea and so had decided to accompany him. Thus, five boys from Gryffindor and a couple of Slytherin girls ended up watching the violent tale of revenge.

Although, not every eyeball was constantly glued to the screen. Harry and Daphne did what most teenagers want to do when they're given the chance in a dark movie theater, and after catching a glimpse of them snogging on a couch together, Millie grabbed Ron and dragged him to the back of the room for a little fun of her own.

Seeing the two couples behavior, Seamus had muttered to himself, "I really need to get a girlfriend."

Nodding along, Dean added, "You and me both, brother."

Meanwhile, Neville had been soaking up the plot of the movie and wondering just how much it might bother him to actually get into a fight with Death Eaters. After all, even Charlie Bronson got sick after the first time he killed a man. Would he flinch like that if he came up against the Lestranges?

Thinking back to his visit with his parents at Christmas, Neville swore that he wouldn't back down.

And he would end up finding that resolve tested sooner than he expected...