Harry's Revenge
Disclaimer: This is my rather embarrassing attempt to write a parody based on the books by J.K. Rowling.
Summary: This is a parody of the Harry Potter books. One night, I was extremely bored, and in the mood to write. The rest is history.
Chapter 1
Summer, Pre-Sixth Year
All was serene and quiet on Privet Drive as most people slept through the clear, cool night. However, one boy, Harry Potter, sat gazing out into the empty street, seeing nothing. Harry was enveloped in his own thoughts, reliving the glorious months at Hogwarts the previous year when he and Draco Malfoy had been in love… Or so Harry thought. Just as Harry had begun to think that, despite their differences, he and Draco had been meant to be together, Draco had dumped Harry like yesterday's garbage. The worst of it was, Harry thought, Draco had left Harry for Ginny Weasley. Harry was relatively sure that seducing Draco had been Ginny's way of seeking revenge on Harry. Surely his beloved Draco couldn't be capable of causing Harry so much pain on his own. Harry sighed. He reckoned he shouldn't have shot so many evil glares in Ginny's direction throughout the school year.
At the Malfoy manor, Draco lay in a fitful sleep, nightmares ravaging his slumber. He awoke with a start. Quickly, Draco tried to remember the dream, to see if it had any significant meaning. He had been discussing something with Harry Potter. Draco's brows furrowed as he tried to remember what the discussion had been about. Unable to recall exactly what had been said except that it had been something serious that had made Draco's temper begin to flare, he began thinking about the rest of the dream. He had stood up quickly, angered at that Potter, but suddenly felt that he couldn't stay angry with him for long. Draco had reached out to apologetically grasp Harry's hands, only to be swept away in a rushing torrent of water. The water swept him through distant lands until it slowed enough that he was able to maneuver to a nearby island. As he washed ashore, gasping for breath and exhausted, he felt a kind hand on his shoulder. Looking up, he realized Ginny Weasley was the one offering help. Draco gratefully grasped her arm to walk to a sheltered area, when he saw Harry running towards him, his eyes reflecting his terror. "How could you leave me like that?" Harry asked desperately.
"It--it wasn't my fault the--" Ginny cut him off.
"He came to ME," she said, indignantly. "He obviously chose me over you."
The pain showed in Harry's face as he backed away. "No, Harry, you don't understand…" Draco began.
"Go on," Ginny sneered. "Get out of here, you're not wanted." Quick as a flash Ginny reached for her wand and uttered a curse. A jet of green light streamed towards Harry, knocking him down, either unconscious, or dead.
Draco gaped at Ginny, whose face was glowing maliciously. Ginny threw her head back and laughed, as Draco ran to Harry and cried, "NO!"
Then he had woken up. "What a strange dream," he said, shaking his head. Though he had been unable to decipher any meaning from the dream, Draco felt as though a burden had been lifted from his chest, and fell into a deep sleep.
The next morning Harry was miserable. He could see no way out of his situation: he was depressed that he could no longer be with Draco, yet going insane with anger knowing that Ginny was the cause of his misery. And I'm going to have to spend two weeks with her, Harry thought bitterly.
Ron had asked Harry to spend the last two weeks of the summer holidays at the Burrow with the Weasleys, and Harry had accepted. Someone should be arriving tomorrow to pick him up, according to Ron's last owl. However, Ron had left out how 'someone' would be arriving. And who the 'someone's' identity, for that matter. Deciding his energy would be better spent doing something other than pondering the future, Harry decided to write a letter to his godfather and complain about how much his life sucked. Just as Harry grabbed his quill, he remembered the last time he had complained to Sirius. Several days after sending the note, Harry had received a reply, which simply read, "If the world didn't suck, we'd all fall off." Harry sighed (he'd been doing a lot of sighing recently). Evidently, Sirius wasn't as paternal as he had seemed in the beginning. While the letters Sirius sent to Harry in his fourth year had instructed Harry to keep him informed on all the happenings at Hogwarts, now Sirius begged Harry to leave him the hell alone. After reading the first note containing instructions for Harry to leave Sirius alone, Harry took a quill and neatly wrote on the envelope, 'return to sender,' thinking it a clever way to disobey Sirius. He then began writing as many as six letters a day to Sirius, just to annoy him. Harry grinned malevolently as he remembered that first week. Of course, Sirius had sent more letters telling him to stop writing, but Harry had returned them all, unopened, after writing 'return to sender' on each envelope. Soon, however, Sirius had caught on, and began giving Harry the same treatment. Harry was only mildly disappointed when he realized his godfather was sick of him. "He probably has a girlfriend or something, and doesn't want me to screw it up for him," Harry mumbled to himself. "At least I wasn't too attached to him. I mean, he never ONCE tried to contact me all those years… The jerk." He pummeled his pillow for a few moments before his thoughts turned to his friends.
Harry was afraid he had lost Hermione as a friend. He didn't think she was keen on the idea that Harry was gay. Maybe she had a thing for him or something. Nope. It was probably just that Ginny had corrupted HER mind against him too, Harry thought, frowning. How long would it be before the entire school turned against him? Ah, well, everything was okay as long as he had Dumbledore wrapped around his pinky finger…
Harry finally drifted off into a dreamless sleep as the moon was setting, but awoke just a few hours later. Unable to sleep any longer, Harry decided to get everything ready for when he'd go to the Weasleys' house. Still unsure of how he would be getting to the Weasleys', Harry just packed everything in his trunk and left it downstairs. None of the Dursleys questioned what he was doing--they'd pretty much been ignoring him the whole summer.
After waiting most of the day (and stewing in his own emotions--becoming more angry by the moment), Mr. Weasley and Ron finally arrived to pick up (a rather perturbed) Harry. Due to the "fireplace" incident the summer before Harry's fourth year, Mr. Weasley had felt it would be wise to arrive by car.
How lame, Harry thought. If they have to drag me off to their stink-hole of a home, they could have at least done so with some pizzazz. Harry rolled his eyes as he began dragging his trunk to the Weasleys' pathetic old vehicle.
"Will we even be flying?" Harry asked in a rather bored voice.
Mr. Weasley's smile faltered at Harry's tone. "Er… No. It's illegal, Harry. You of all people should know that," he finished, referring to Harry and Ron's second year at Hogwarts.
Under his breath, Harry murmured, "What a jip," and slung a bag into the back seat of the car.
The trip to the Burrow was uneventful, but tense. From the moment Harry sat in the car, he'd been casting murderous stares at Ron, daring him to speak. Ron soon got the idea, and decided to stare out the window for most of the trip. After several hours, the three arrived at the Burrow, where Harry got his usual warm welcoming from Mrs. Weasley.
"Oh, Harry, dear, we're so glad you could come," she said happily, and tried to grasp Harry in a tight hug.
Harry dodged her, and said, "Shove it. Ron, how hard is it to help me carry this stupid trunk up to your bedroom?"
Taken aback, Mrs. Weasley stared at Harry as he bullied Ron up the stairs. She and Mr. Weasley exchanged worried glances, and shrugged at eachother.
In Ron's room, Harry found Hermione sitting on his bed, reading a book. She looked imploringly at Ron before coldly saying, "Hello, Harry."
"Whatever," Harry returned. "Listen, I'm going to use the bathroom, if I don't come back, it's because I drowned myself. But don't worry about me, I'm feeling great," he said sarcastically.
A few minutes later, He returned. As soon as he opened the door, Ron and Hermione quickly jumped away from each other, and looked guiltily at Harry.
"For the love of..." Harry began. "Isn't there anyplace more private you two can make out? For these two weeks, this is MY room too, so maybe you had better scram"
Not needing to be told twice, Ron and Hermione exited the room.
Several days into his stay at the Burrow, Harry had made sure that he was on bad terms with just about everyone in the household. To top it off, Hermione was giving Harry sidelong glances as though he were diseased or something. Unable to take it any longer, Harry finally blew up.
"Hermione!" He shouted after she had flinched when she passed him the saltshaker, "I'm not contagious, I'm a homosexual! How hard of a concept is that to grasp? It's not like you're going to catch 'the gay'!"
She had stared at him a moment before saying, "Yeah, well, what about Draco? He seemed pretty straight to me before you had your way with him."
Harry stopped to consider that. It was true that he had been a known ladies' man before last year… No, of course he was gay, through and through.
Without admitting defeat, Harry abruptly stood up from the table, and went to his room. No body bothered to follow him.
