The Carnivorous Pony Chapter 4

This chapter is dedicated to Lana and Swifty, our hilarious fellow authors.

Aunt and Auntie must express their deepest sympathies about the fact that time travel will no longer be an option for our loyal readers. The aforementioned instrument of time travel has met its untimely demise, and since then, the real truth has been sought. It was infact disguised as a trash compactor. So please read our humble story, as this will be the only opportunity in this particular dimension. Flames welcome, and to the real pervy fanciers and badger farm owners everywhere, do not be offended, we mean you no harm. We must also proclaim that we do not own the incident of the lip licking, as this was entirely thought up by those clever and imaginative people at Warner Bros in their most recent adaptation of Harry Potter.

"So," Ron stated, trying to sound as interested as possible, even though he had only just taken a mouthful of liver sausage, and was more interested in that.

"That thing we saw in the hallways yesterday was a Pervy Fancius," Harry told his friend, who seemed to become more and more disinterested by the second.

"A what?" Ron questioned. "That thing, that appeared yesterday and told us that Malfoy was a sexy beast was a Pervy Fancius?" Ron was really getting good at honing his ability for stating the obvious.

"Yea man," Harry replied, in the way that he had done for the fifth time that morning, and the seventh time since the questioning began. Harry had unfortunately been struck by the newest, more deadly strain of American Phrase Syndrome, known by 'people in the know' as the silent- H virus.

"So," Ron said again, with about half as much enthusiasm as he had used earlier, whilst taking yet another mouthful of liver sausage. "Where is Hermione?"

Harry looked around, he had noticed that Hermione was not there, but he had immediately dismissed it, as he thought it was perfectly normal for Hermione to be informed after Ron of important plot developments.

"I think she is trying to spend as much time with Hank before his own untimely demise."

"Oh, ok." Ron mumbled, not in the slightest disconcerted about the reference to his own sibling kicking the bucket. "Do you think we should tell Malfoy about the Pervy Fancius?"

"Yea man," Harry replied, earning yet another groan from Ron, who had only this morning told him, that if he kept up with his affliction, he would ring the American Phrase Helpline Hotline, so that Harry could seek help from those specially trained in helping youngsters with their phrase problems.

So, despite the fact that Harry still didn't know whether he preferred pink instead of blue, and that he almost certainly detested Malfoy, he and Ron skipped over to start a conversation with him.

"Good Day Malfoy," Harry called from across the Great Hall, trying to sound as English as possible, so that Ron would not suspect him to be secretly pleased that he had contracted the newest strain of his most favourite virus.

And despite the fact that Malfoy found it extremely odd and extremely irritating to be talking to his worst enemy, he decided to stop stroking her under the table, and reply.

For a fleeting second he though about plastering a sneer across his face, which he had decided, was not in the slightest aristocratic, but in the circumstances he decided against it, as he didn't want it to be misconstrued as a sexy leer.

"Malfoy, last night Ron and I encountered a thing in the halls, a Pervy Fancius, that told us…" Harry left off there hoping to add some mystery to the conversation.

"What?" said Malfoy, desperately hoping that nothing of his Broom Perving had got out.

Ron, mistaking Harry's obvious attempt to sound more mysterious as a sign that his memory was failing him, finished the sentence, "Malfoy is a sexy beast.

"Ooh- err Weasley. I didn't know that you bowled for the other team!" said Pansy Parkinson, who couldn't help interjecting into the conversation, (if only to get herself mentioned).

"Not me, I don't think it…it was the Pervy Fancius." Ron mentally kicked himself. Now, come to think of it, he had done so much mental kicking since the story began that he was surprised his brain was not in the intensive care ward at St. Mungo's.

"That's what they all say," Pansy continued.

"Pansy, piss off, you are taking up time which could be much better used for my indecent thoughts." Malfoy tried hard to force away a sneer, not wanting to be thought of as sexy in anyone's eyes but hers. If only she had eyes, he mused…

"What did it look like? Was it polished? Or did it have twigs?" Malfoy asked trying to salvage what was left of this pitiful excuse for conversation.

"No, no, nothing like that!" Harry said, whilst wondering if Malfoy could possibly be the infamous Hogwarts Broom Perver that they had all heard so much about, but never knew the identity of.

"If truth be told, she resembled a 15-year-old girl with dark brown hair and glasses. She wore a purple knee length kilt, and a v-neck jumper, with two grey stripes on the cuffs, and a lilac blouse." Harry hoped that no one thought too deeply about his obvious interest in fashion.

No one had noticed about the side effects of the silent-H virus. As Harry was trying to combat it, he had unfortunately contracted the Impossibly English disease.

How ghastly thought Malfoy, "Are you sure there were absolutely no twigs?"

"YES" said Ron, "Hank," he called, running to meet him. "Where is Hermione?"

Hank's eyeballs rolled backward in their non-existent eye sockets.

"Oh there you are Hermione!"  Ron proclaimed, a little surprised, whilst Hermione marvelled at Ron's talent of not being able to see past the end of his nose.

[A/N: And in order to divert some of the attention away from out current characters, so that not too much mental kicking follows, we introduce another…]

Neville, lurking slyly in the corner of Harry's vision, licked his lips.

"Where's Hagrid?" Harry asked, even though he knew the answer perfectly well

It was common knowledge among the students that Neville had a thing for large hairy men.  Harry was not at all worried about this, as he was busy wondering if the Pervy Fancius would like to go out to dinner with him.

****

Meanwhile, Hank and Hermione had slipped off together for a romantic swim in the lake.

"I hope we're not eaten by the giant squid or mermaids or captured by grindylows, my sparkling fragment of deliciousness." Hank remarked, looking at Hermione lovingly.  (Lets face it, he couldn't do much else)

"Don't worry my heaven-breathed stallion, all of those things mysteriously disappear when we go swimming." Hermione replied, gently biting the space where she supposed Hank's ear would be.

"Ah," said Hank, "where do they all go, my shining gazelle?"

"Oh, a broom cupboard somewhere, I expect.  GAAH!!" was Hermione's answer.  She had not shouted like that because, as you might think, she had found 50p behind Hank's non-existent ear.  In fact, her exclamation was due to the fact that Professor Snape had just landed with a none too un-almighty crash into the Great Lake.

To our wonderful devoted readers (all 3 of you), Aunt and Auntie seem to have stumbled in a pothole on the road to hilarity and need the aid of our fellow laughter enthusiasts in order to continue. We need someone familiar with the finer grammar points on fictionalley.org willing to help us edit the fic so it can be published and some suggestions for side-splitting chapter titles wouldn't go amiss. Merci and happy laughing to you all.