"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.