This is the product of a late-night conversation with Carrie about world domination, betaing, twiney goodness, and silly ways Voldemort could die.

D/C:If I owned Harry Potter, would I really be defaming him in such a way as this? Yeah, I didn't think so. All characters herein are owned by JK Rowling, except for Carrie, who isn't owned by anyone but herself.

If someone knows where one could get allergy medication that actually works (my non-drowsy Allegra puts me to sleep), please feel free to tell me!

Jello, Toasters, and Owls, Oh My!

by: Melodi

"Give up, Tom! You can't beat all of us, not without your helpers gone!" Harry yelled above the din. Voldemort's last resort of defense, after all Death Eaters had been slaughtered and his wand incinerated, had been to conjure up a great windstorm, trying to blow his opponents away.

Hidden under a shield charm, Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Draco, and Dumbledore were quite safe. McGonagall and Sirius hadn't been so lucky, however, and were blown into a giant vat of jello where they were stuck, still, jiggling in a giant green gelatinous glump, giggling uncontrollably as they wiggled in the whirling winds.

"Whee!" Minerva called. "This is fun!"

"Minerva, dearie, did you forget to put your calming charm on before you came to fight evil today?" Dumbledore asked as Voldemort made it start raining. Which, since the sane part of the opposition was completely covered by shield charms and floral umbrellas stolen from Bob Lenier's son's birthday party, all it accomplished was getting himself wet, and turning the flaming homosexual running through the background of the scene into a slightly smoldering homosexual.

"I will never give in! I'M THE RULER OF THE WORLD, JUST YOU WAIT AND SEE!" Voldemort screamed at the top of his lungs, hysterics setting in. A purple bolt of lightning seared through the sky, striking a turret of his fortress and sending large chunks of granite, quartz, limestone, malachite, pyrite, tourmaline, shale, pumice, topaz, tiger eye, and many other forms of stone debris to litter the atmosphere and shower down on the comrades, who, being shielded with a charm, floral umbrellas, and now a large piece of sheet metal Hermione had procured from a carpet bag.

"Wow, Hermione," Ron commented. "You sure have a lot of room in your bag."

"Yes. It is very spacious. Good for sleeping- you never need a hotel room." Suddenly, the bag wibbled around on the table (also procured from the bag), knocking the wine glasses over and spilling the cabernet sourvingon onto the lace tablecloth. Victor Krum's head appeared in the mouth of the bag and he spoke in his outrageous accent, "Herm-own-ninny, I'm cold. Come back to your room and warm me."

He disappeared back into the depths of the bag as Hermione, Ron, and the rest of the company turned varying shades of red. As Ron sputtered, Harry gaped, Hermione blushed, Draco smiled with a knowing look and Dumbledore cackled like an old man (which he was, but that's not the point of the simile here), Voldemort was temporarily knocked unconscious by a falling piece of marble.

Meanwhile, a large hunk of graphite had hurled itself (using the inertia gained from the lightning, of course,) into the vat of jello, displacing Minerva and rocketing her off towards the remnants of the castle.

As she flew through the air with the greatest of ease, although she was not a young man on a flying trapeze, she was a teacher with knobbly knees and while she was swinging away, her skirt's hemline rose to frightening heights and the group below saw much more of Minerva than they ever had wanted to see.

Underneath the black Hogwarts staff robes and plaid pleated skirt resembling one of Seamus's kilts, was a shiny, silver and green thong with the words "I Shagged a Sexy Slytherin" scrolling across it as it glittered in the lightning flashes.

Ginny fainted. Harry, having nothing better to do besides throw up, pretended to be concerned for her well-being. Hermione climbed into her bag, calling out, "Victor! Let me in bed, sweetie, I feel sick!" Ron and Draco, being the only ones left, clung to each other for dear life, just having been through the most traumatic event of the war.

As she landed, Dumbledore called out, "It's a full moon tonight, Minnie, my girl!"

Sitting next to an unconscious Voldemort on the tallest structure for miles around was not exactly Minerva's idea of fun. She wanted to be back in the jello, jiggling and continuing her sordid affair with the runaway criminal. She poked Voldemort with her wand.

He didn't move. Nor did he move when she poked his eyes, his stomach, tickled his toes, licked his ear, nibbled his neck or kicked him right where, on a normal male, it would hurt.

"Oh, arghflurbagh!" she called out in exasperation. A sudden white light appeared over Voldemort and Minerva, and the roaring winds ceased to blow. Dumbledore looked forward, full of rapture, but Ron and Draco dove underneath the table, hiding from the scary, piercing light.

"Oh, Draco, I'm so scared," Ron wibbled.

"Draco looked at Ron with his oh-so-sexy stare and said, "Me as well."

"Hold me."

They rushed towards each other, which really wasn't much of a distance, seeing as they were cowering like cowards underneath a table, but you get the general idea.

As they embraced, Ron touched his hand to Draco's breast and said, "You know, you would look really good in leather pants."

Draco cocked his head to one side. "You think so? I've always been told that leather chafes."

"I don't know. If it chafes you could just take it off." Ron said, looking suggestively into Draco's eyes. They kissed and suddenly, Draco was snogging Carrie.

While Carrie's transmogrification glamour charms wore off under the table, the glowing ball of light revealed it's true form - a man in a Muggle suit with little iridescent wings. "Minerva McGonagall," he intoned, "I am the Fairy of Lap Dancing Toasters and have come to give you a gift to aid you in the destruction of Voldemort. Here," he handed her an industrial-sized hot dog toaster, "use it well."

Minerva took the toaster, and the newly shrunken Voldemort and placed him in one of the slots. Pushing the lever down, and looking satisfied, she turned to the man. "You've got girly wings."

"I do not!"

"Do too."

"Do not! I'll have you know that I got these from a very stylish boutique in L.A."

"Well, that's why, everyone knows the people in L.A. are just a tad touched. Fruitcake."

"Hmph. Well, enjoy your toaster."

Small screams were emanating from the toaster, and, seeing the pain Voldemort was in, Minerva shook it upside down, letting a smoking Dark Lord fall into her palm. Seconds later, Hedwig swooped by, snatched the smoking villain up in her beak and gobbled him up whole.

"Sorry, professor!" Harry called. "Hedwig has Voldemort shaped owl treats!"

Minerva jumped off the tower and went back to jiggling in her jello.

Sirius and she continued their torrid affair, and had six little kids that all for some reason looked like Snape.

Carrie and Draco were happy and continued their snog session for quite some time.

Harry pretended being in love with Ginny for too long, got horribly cheated out of a good life and was stuck being a house-husband until the end of his days.

Dumbledore died laughing.

THE END

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AN:Hee hee. That was very amusing, if not relaxing, to write after a long tussle with all my serious and deep fics and originals.

This would normally be the part where I ask you to review, and tell you the interesting thing I'd do with your flames, should they be received.

Well, since the content of this story is about as plausible as three fifteen-year-old girls taking over the world via Starbucks, I don't particularly care about it much. To quote a wonderful movie, Gone With The Wind, "Frankly, m'dear, I don't give a damn."

Pretty much sums it up. If you feel you must review... well, you're more pathetic than I originally assumed you to be.

**Melodi**