"Harry!" a voice above the foot of his bed said. "Harry, wake up." The
voice appeared to be losing it's patience. Harry didn't really understand
why, it wasn't the one beign woken up at some ungodly hour of the night.
"Yes yes what is it?" He asked, pulling on his glasses. He didn't really
need his glasses to see the body at the end of the bed, he just found they
made him look more intelligent and distracted people from the scar on his
head, which he was still yet to tell anyone was from the time he walked
into a door as a child. The face was becoming too familiar for his liking,
it was a large white, bearded face, which glowed in a way so as to cast
light on the whole dormitory, and yet not wake any of the others up. Harry
suspected they had grown to be deep sleepers, seeing he often enters and
exits the room at random points in the night, accompanied by dragons, oafs,
and even the occasional god. His fellow Gryffindorians were probably used
to this, which suited him just fine. If Voldemort (oh how he had fun
mentioning that name around the table at meals and seeing his colleagues
reactions, it almost made the torturous life of fame worth it) ever entered
the Gryffindor dorms there'd be hell, but thank god that would never make a
suitable plot line. Of course it seems logical that people would believe a
picture could hold back such an evil...
"HARRY SHUT UP!!!!"
"*I'll be good*" Harry said in a tiny voice, glad tomorrow was washing day
or he'd have to wear a soiled robe around all day.
"Now Harry, do you know why I'm here?" The man asked, as if he'd asked the
question many, many, many times before.
"Umm, does it have something to do with the last book I wrote?"
"Yes Harry, it did" He said, putting extra emphasis on the Y, which seemed
to go on for several minutes. "I am particularly disappointed in the
section in which you state that you are the new Jesus."
"Sorry, I only meant it as a joke."
"Oh, and I expect you think the section entitled "Thirty ways to cook and
eat Christians" is funny? Jesus has been crying for weeks, honestly, Mary
is getting quite irritated at it." Harry sniggered at this, he enjoyed
making thirty year old men cry, especially demi-gods. God would have lost
his temper at that, if he hadn't lost it two-hundred years earlier in a bar-
room brawl with Zeuss over what was the world's best beer. He doesn't care,
he still likes Guinness, and he got back at Zeuss with the scathing remark
'well at least people still worship me'
"Harry, now listen to me, you have to understand that it's getting harder
and harder for me to get people to worship me. The recruitment rate hasn't
been worse since the times when Romans fed my followers to the lions..."
(Harry remembered that he needed to feed his lions. He didn't think now
would be a good time to ask god where the best Christians could be found)
"...And the last thing I need is for some snotty nosed little wizard brat
to be spreading nasty rumours. Now are you going to apolagize for Jesus or
will I have to kill your first born son again?"
Harry didn't have a first born son, but what god doesn't know can't hurt
him, right? But maybe he thought, just maybe, he'd follow god up on his
offer, after all, he wanted to see heaven. He could tell his friends that
he went there to battle god. He could even write it into his next book, now
under the working title "The Bible; 2040" He got up and, re-arranging his
robe in a way that god couldn't see the unfortunate stain, headed out of
the Gryffindor dorm, through the common room and into a mysterious wooden
ship that smelt like the herbology department's office after a staff party.
He wondered what heaven would be like, and what he could steal to prove to
his friends that he'd been there.
