Title: A Day Without Fanfiction
Original author: Mrs. Norris
Original language: Russian
Translation author: Prof. Snape
A/N:
Welcome to your Potions class…
This piece of writing was originally created by my colleague, Mrs. Norris. Since she wanted this to be posted on ff.net but her English is, so to speak, untrustworthy, I have been asked to fulfill the translation. Thus, the double pen name. I have tried my best to keep the style and to be as close as possible to the original. Mrs. Norris has seen the translation and has approved of it. Keep in mind that this story was not beta-ed.
Sincerely,
Prof. Snape.
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Once upon a time Ms. Rowling created the Potterverse, the Wizarding world and characters whose adventures were followed by a good half of the planet Earth. After the fourth book she began to get tired and her private life sprang to its fullest. Rowling had little time for writing.
But her books have become so loved that the readers decided to continue writing the epic for themselves, thus unknowingly ruling the lives of JKR's characters.
Now, let's imagine that one day something unexpected happened: not even one person sat down to write or to continue to write fanfiction. Maybe it was a result of a terrible magnetic storm or a new ozone layer hole or the global warming, but that is not the point. The main thing is that for one full day the inhabitants of the Potterverse could breathe freely - no one told them what to do, life went back to normal…
***
Harry Potter woke up because… his scar didn't hurt. He had got used a long time ago to the fact that each morning he woke up to the terrible pain in the scar, he didn't even pay attention to it anymore but now - THIS…
Harry pressed on the scar, hoping that the pain will return but… to no avail. He didn't feel any burning, pricking, etc.
"Something dreadful must have happened…" thought Harry. He sat for a full minute in confusion, trying to comprehend what had caused such a phenomenon.
But The-Boy-Who-Lived was not counted a hero in the Wizarding world for nothing. That's why, having overcome his uncertainty, he left the room and went downstairs. Now, that, I tell you, was a bad choice. The sight which came before his eyes in the common room was not for the feeble, although in this case it would be better to say, the sight which did NOT come before his eyes. As it was, there weren't any unfamiliar people in the room! No new students from America, Australia, New Zealand, Ireland or Russia. Not a single one.
Harry's hands shook as he wiped his glasses but it seemed that they were not the cause of the trouble, because the action didn't add any new faces in the common room. At this moment Potter began to doubt whether it was going to be wise to leave the Gryffindor Tower but, upon remembering to have been described as brave, he made his way through the portrait hole.
In the hall Harry saw his old acquaintance, Draco Malfoy, heading towards him. Harry smiled but the smile was quickly gone from his face. Weird, but he had no sudden urge to run up to the blond-haired boy and offer him friendship and eternal loyalty.
- But that is just impossible! - whispered Harry and banged his head on the wall to make sure of that.
The urge didn't appear. The completely flabbergasted boy still decided not to panic but then remembered that he hadn't met Voldemort even once this morning… Moreover, he hadn't yet received a letter stating that he had been appointed as the new Hogwarts' Headmaster.
"I am going mad for real" was the first smart thought for the morning. Had Harry had an unstable mind, he would have fainted but that was not the case, as it was much worse… That's why Potter sat on the floor with his back to the wall, half-closed his eyes and once again clutched his scar which still refused to hurt.
He was not alone that morning.
***
Severus Snape woke up with a bad feeling as well. He carefully opened his eyes and… froze. Next to him there was… NOBODY. I repeat: NOBODY. Snape closed his eyes and opened them again. The bed was empty. No Hermione, no beautiful long-legged blonde … Severus looked under the bed with a last glimpse of hope. There was only a huge pile of dust.
For the last year Snape had never gone to bed alone. He spent whole days seducing: Hermione - 70%, new female teachers and students of exceptional beauty - 20%, the male population of Hogwarts - 10%.
"This is ridiculous! - thought Snape - what have I become?!"
Severus entered the classroom with dread. But his most feared thoughts were to come true - at his appearance no one fainted or declared eternal love to him.
At this moment Hermione came into the classroom. Severus swallowed… Firstly, she didn't seem beautiful to him; secondly, he all of a sudden remembered the numerous variations of their love stories, all their children (each day different) and all that sentimental nonsense he said in the girl's presence daily. Severus felt uneasy, no, scratch that, he felt sick.
Closing his mouth with his hand, he swiftly left the classroom and headed to the second-in-Secrecy Chamber.
Somebody slammed the door in the next hall with as much force.
"Hermione" guessed Snape and was a thousand times correct. She wasn't made of steel either.
***
Dumbledore sat in his office thinking hard and not knowing what to do. He wasn't fired from his position as Headmaster? Really? Albus checked his mail again - still no letter from the Ministry. He knew that he had made no plans on going crazy and according to his diary heart attacks were not due for another couple of decades as well. For the last few months Dumbledore began the day with retiring from his job, bequeathing all to Harry and leaving Hogwarts for St. Mungo's. On good days he simply died. But today… something paranormal was happening. The old Mage, who got out of the habit of running the school, couldn't think straight.
Professor McGonagall silently entered the office. She too seemed to be dumbfounded but… Minerva was wearing unusual clothes… well, actually they were rather usual but Dumbledore was used to seeing her in a bathrobe or, at least, in open-work stockings. As if that was not enough, McGonagall was most definitely not going to tell anything about their long-lost children and wild love affairs of the old days.
- Minerva, don't you want to tell me anything? - asked Dumbledore.
- N-no… - nervously answered McGonagall and lowered her gaze. She was clearly feeling the same things as the Headmaster.
- Someone is trying to mess with our lives… I can feel it…
***
Despite all the oddities of the day, Voldemort was happy. No, "happy" can't describe it. He was elated! Today he didn't have to kill Harry Potter and therefore die himself. Voldemort was getting sick of it, he wasn't a masochist and to endure the Cruciatus every day was not, so to say, inspiring.
Moreover, there were no visits from the Death Eaters today, although, usually they appeared with each passing second, even repeating themselves.
"Maybe I have gone off my rocket but I like it!" pondered the Dark Lord, who for the past year had regretted a million (if not more) times becoming one. To kill him, wizards from all over the world came. They were usually lead by the same Potter, whose face Tom Riddle had memorized down to the smallest detail and could make a precise police "Wanted" notice, even after being woken in the middle of the night.
- When Potter doesn't come he seems to be so lovely! - sighed Voldemort and closed his eyes dreamily.
***
The day still passed in full confusion and in the end everyone came to the conclusion that it was simply unreal. Thank Merlin, there were no suicides but many were injured.
Yet the next day everything went back to normal: Harry felt the familiar pain, Snape shagged Hermione, Dumbledore retired (first having found out that 50 years ago McGonagall gave birth to their child) and Voldemort got himself a new coffin.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
P.S. Constructive criticism is always welcome. Look out for new translations.
P.S. from Mrs. Norris: Ten points to your House (yes, Severus, ANY House, not just Slytherin) if you can find the reference to Lockhart.