Harry Potter - despite the fact that he was a celebrated novel
character and heir to a gazillion pounds in royalties - was
often subject to nightmares. That particular morning, on which
our story opens, he sat in bed, remembering with great anxiety
the demons that had tortured his sleep. Lately, all he seemed
to dream about was looking for the loos in the Ministry of
Magic. He would run through the halls desperately, then at long
last stumble upon a mysterious door. "Wizards' Restroom", the
sign read.
"Relief at last!" dream-Harry would think. But every time he reached for the handle, he inevitably woke up.
Professor Dumbledore had concluded that this was - surprise, surprise! - Voldemort's fault. Rumour had it that the Dark Lord was having severe bladder problems related to his overuse of plastic surgery.
And so, on this morning that we have hence mentioned, Harry was in a bad mood, and not just the oh-crap-another-day-of-school bad mood, I mean, he was really pissed off!
"Hi, Harry, how are you today?" his best friend Ron Weasley asked, because the poor fool hadn't yet lifted the veil of stupidity that kept him from seeing that Harry was going through major adolescent crisis.
"Why is everybody always on my back?!" Harry yelled in reply. "Leave me the fuck alone!"
Ron had crawled under his bed. "Sorry," he squeaked. "By the way you have a spot on your shirt," he added, unable to contain his honest and loyal puppy-dog ways.
"WHAT?! OH CRAP!! I DON'T BELIEVE THIS!! AFTER ALL I'VE DONE FOR THIS SCHOOL -"
Harry stopped short and winced as his scar seared painfully. This happened every time he went into a fit ever since Professor Snape had kindly suggested to transplant an "Anger Management" chip in his brain.
"Well, I've got a date with Hermione today," Ron said happily, wiping the dust away from his robes. "We're going to the Three Broomsticks."
"Goody for you," Harry grumbled, suddenly unexplainably jealous. For the past five books he'd never even thought about Hermione as something else than a brain with a lot of hair, but now he wanted nothing more than to ruin his friendship with Ron and go out with her himself. Of course, it would be very convenient of Ron to die first to save him the trouble.
"Are you coming too?" Ron chirped in a very adorable way.
"No, you sod! I have fucking detention with Snape!"
"Oh, well, all right! See you later!"
Ron skipped out of the room, leaving a trail of flowers behind him as he passed. Harry grumbled some more as he pulled on his Snitch panties and the rest of his clothes, and stormed out to Snape's dungeon.
All the way from down the corridor, Harry could hear the clanging of chains and the lashing of a whip. No doubt, Snape was having students over for private "Occulmency lessons". When he entered the creepy, crawly dungeon, however, Snape was at his desk, looking very sour and evil.
"Hello, Professor," Harry said.
"Shut the hell up, Potter!" Snape barked. "A hundred points from Gryffindor!"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Well, excuuuse me! Are you planning on lightening up sometimes before the end of the century?"
Snape stood up. "Silence, you impotent pallywag, before I have you chastised!" He paused, a small smile forming on his lips. "Do you have any idea why I'm such a mean bastard?"
Harry shook his head.
"You may think it's because I have extremely severe body odour or because I've never been allowed to wash my hair, but if you want to know the whole truth, then listen to this: I've had to pursue your bloody mother in about a thousand completely inconsistent MWPP stories! Then they paired me off with Sirius, Remus, Lucius Malfoy, god knows who else! Next thing I know, I'm hooking up with Hermione Granger while she's still underage! What kind of life do you call that? I've shagged everybody but the kitchen sink!"
"Well, actually, I think there's this fic where -"
"GET OUT! OUT, I SAY!!"
"Um, ok," Harry said, thinking that the Potions professor was decidedly off his rocker.
In the Great Hall, he met his godfather, Sirius Black.
"Hey, Sirius," he said. "I thought you were dead."
"Actually, I've been resurrected because all those hormonally- challenged readers need a sexy character. Lupin's kind of shabby, don't you think?"
"Yeah, I guess. Well, see you around."
Sirius looked back at Harry and smiled charmingly. "By the way, I'm gay."
A couple of seconds later, Harry was at the Three Broomsticks, his trip having been quite shortened because the author was too damn lazy to write a proper transition. Ron and Hermione were sitting at a table, making out in front of the whole school although they'd just got together three minutes before. All around them, students were whopping and cheering.
"We were wondering when you'd get together!" they all clamoured.
"Hey Harry!" Ron grinned while Hermione nibbled his earlobe. "I'd like you to meet Emerald Starheart. She's a transfer student from America."
Sitting next to him was the most incredibly beautiful and gifted witch Harry had ever seen. She was blond, busty and, coincidentally, Voldemort's lost daughter.
"You don't look anything like him at all," Harry pointed out, while half the boys in the pub were having a heart attack just from looking at her.
"I know, like, isn't that, like, so weird?" she said, flipping her shiny, soft, lustrous, wonderful hair and looking at him with her translucent, azure, sea-green, sparkling eyes. "Will you, like, go out with me and stuff?"
Harry didn't have to be asked twice. But just as Emerald Starheart was beginning to unbutton her shirt, Draco Malfoy burst into the pub and Avada Kedavraed her.
"Oh, Harry, how could you?" he wept. "After all we've been through!"
"What are you talking about, you stupid dick?" Harry shouted, quite upset.
"I know we've always loathed each other, but I have a heart, too!" Draco cried. "I have feelings! Was it all lies when you told me you loved me?"
Everybody was now staring at him blankly. Hermione, ever the smart cookie, finally understood what had happened. "Draco, I think you're in the wrong fic."
"Oh. Right." Draco walked off and returned to Inconceivable Slash Story Land.
"Well, I have to go," Harry told Ron and Hermione. "I have Quidditch practise. I wonder why I even bother, though, since I always end up winning anyway."
"Wait, Harry, I'll go with you," Hermione said. "I'll use this silly excuse of having homework to do so we can snog behind Ron's back."
Harry was pleased to finally get the attention he so rightfully deserved being hero of the story, heartthrob extraordinaire, Big Wizarding Kahunah of All Times and played by an incredibly cute actor in the movie series. Unfortunately, Hermione was abducted by Voldemort, never to return, which gave way to an unbelievably corny songfic moment.
"Near, far, wherEEEEver you are, I belieeeeeeve that the heart does go Oonnnnnn ohohohonnn," Harry sang at the top of his lungs. "Once more you OOOOOoooopen the door -"
Before he could go any further, Voldemort apparated in the middle of the pub. "Now you know why I want to kill you!" he bellowed with cotton balls wedged in his ears. "Get him! Get him!" he ordered to an army of Dementors.
Fortunately for Harry, Neville Longbottom decided out of nowhere to sacrifice himself in order for him to get away. *Goes to prove he wasn't good for nothing,* Harry thought as he entered the Gryffindor common room.
He was heading towards the boys' staircase when he noticed Ginny Weasley was sleeping on the couch next to the fire place because it was, in fact, the middle of the night. Suddenly, he realised she was gorgeous and the perfect girl for him, and that he wanted to tell her all about his fascinating life and most of all about Sirius's gruesome death, a sure-fire way to get any girl in bed.
"Ginny, wake up!" he said, slapping her hard in the face.
Ginny opened her chocolate brown eyes and smiled at him. "Oh, Harry, is this a dream?"
"Well, actually, no, it's a really bad fanfiction, but let's make the author's trouble worthwhile, shall we?"
And so, after THE inevitable minutely detailed smut scene, Harry Potter lived happily ever after.
THE END
"Relief at last!" dream-Harry would think. But every time he reached for the handle, he inevitably woke up.
Professor Dumbledore had concluded that this was - surprise, surprise! - Voldemort's fault. Rumour had it that the Dark Lord was having severe bladder problems related to his overuse of plastic surgery.
And so, on this morning that we have hence mentioned, Harry was in a bad mood, and not just the oh-crap-another-day-of-school bad mood, I mean, he was really pissed off!
"Hi, Harry, how are you today?" his best friend Ron Weasley asked, because the poor fool hadn't yet lifted the veil of stupidity that kept him from seeing that Harry was going through major adolescent crisis.
"Why is everybody always on my back?!" Harry yelled in reply. "Leave me the fuck alone!"
Ron had crawled under his bed. "Sorry," he squeaked. "By the way you have a spot on your shirt," he added, unable to contain his honest and loyal puppy-dog ways.
"WHAT?! OH CRAP!! I DON'T BELIEVE THIS!! AFTER ALL I'VE DONE FOR THIS SCHOOL -"
Harry stopped short and winced as his scar seared painfully. This happened every time he went into a fit ever since Professor Snape had kindly suggested to transplant an "Anger Management" chip in his brain.
"Well, I've got a date with Hermione today," Ron said happily, wiping the dust away from his robes. "We're going to the Three Broomsticks."
"Goody for you," Harry grumbled, suddenly unexplainably jealous. For the past five books he'd never even thought about Hermione as something else than a brain with a lot of hair, but now he wanted nothing more than to ruin his friendship with Ron and go out with her himself. Of course, it would be very convenient of Ron to die first to save him the trouble.
"Are you coming too?" Ron chirped in a very adorable way.
"No, you sod! I have fucking detention with Snape!"
"Oh, well, all right! See you later!"
Ron skipped out of the room, leaving a trail of flowers behind him as he passed. Harry grumbled some more as he pulled on his Snitch panties and the rest of his clothes, and stormed out to Snape's dungeon.
All the way from down the corridor, Harry could hear the clanging of chains and the lashing of a whip. No doubt, Snape was having students over for private "Occulmency lessons". When he entered the creepy, crawly dungeon, however, Snape was at his desk, looking very sour and evil.
"Hello, Professor," Harry said.
"Shut the hell up, Potter!" Snape barked. "A hundred points from Gryffindor!"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Well, excuuuse me! Are you planning on lightening up sometimes before the end of the century?"
Snape stood up. "Silence, you impotent pallywag, before I have you chastised!" He paused, a small smile forming on his lips. "Do you have any idea why I'm such a mean bastard?"
Harry shook his head.
"You may think it's because I have extremely severe body odour or because I've never been allowed to wash my hair, but if you want to know the whole truth, then listen to this: I've had to pursue your bloody mother in about a thousand completely inconsistent MWPP stories! Then they paired me off with Sirius, Remus, Lucius Malfoy, god knows who else! Next thing I know, I'm hooking up with Hermione Granger while she's still underage! What kind of life do you call that? I've shagged everybody but the kitchen sink!"
"Well, actually, I think there's this fic where -"
"GET OUT! OUT, I SAY!!"
"Um, ok," Harry said, thinking that the Potions professor was decidedly off his rocker.
In the Great Hall, he met his godfather, Sirius Black.
"Hey, Sirius," he said. "I thought you were dead."
"Actually, I've been resurrected because all those hormonally- challenged readers need a sexy character. Lupin's kind of shabby, don't you think?"
"Yeah, I guess. Well, see you around."
Sirius looked back at Harry and smiled charmingly. "By the way, I'm gay."
A couple of seconds later, Harry was at the Three Broomsticks, his trip having been quite shortened because the author was too damn lazy to write a proper transition. Ron and Hermione were sitting at a table, making out in front of the whole school although they'd just got together three minutes before. All around them, students were whopping and cheering.
"We were wondering when you'd get together!" they all clamoured.
"Hey Harry!" Ron grinned while Hermione nibbled his earlobe. "I'd like you to meet Emerald Starheart. She's a transfer student from America."
Sitting next to him was the most incredibly beautiful and gifted witch Harry had ever seen. She was blond, busty and, coincidentally, Voldemort's lost daughter.
"You don't look anything like him at all," Harry pointed out, while half the boys in the pub were having a heart attack just from looking at her.
"I know, like, isn't that, like, so weird?" she said, flipping her shiny, soft, lustrous, wonderful hair and looking at him with her translucent, azure, sea-green, sparkling eyes. "Will you, like, go out with me and stuff?"
Harry didn't have to be asked twice. But just as Emerald Starheart was beginning to unbutton her shirt, Draco Malfoy burst into the pub and Avada Kedavraed her.
"Oh, Harry, how could you?" he wept. "After all we've been through!"
"What are you talking about, you stupid dick?" Harry shouted, quite upset.
"I know we've always loathed each other, but I have a heart, too!" Draco cried. "I have feelings! Was it all lies when you told me you loved me?"
Everybody was now staring at him blankly. Hermione, ever the smart cookie, finally understood what had happened. "Draco, I think you're in the wrong fic."
"Oh. Right." Draco walked off and returned to Inconceivable Slash Story Land.
"Well, I have to go," Harry told Ron and Hermione. "I have Quidditch practise. I wonder why I even bother, though, since I always end up winning anyway."
"Wait, Harry, I'll go with you," Hermione said. "I'll use this silly excuse of having homework to do so we can snog behind Ron's back."
Harry was pleased to finally get the attention he so rightfully deserved being hero of the story, heartthrob extraordinaire, Big Wizarding Kahunah of All Times and played by an incredibly cute actor in the movie series. Unfortunately, Hermione was abducted by Voldemort, never to return, which gave way to an unbelievably corny songfic moment.
"Near, far, wherEEEEver you are, I belieeeeeeve that the heart does go Oonnnnnn ohohohonnn," Harry sang at the top of his lungs. "Once more you OOOOOoooopen the door -"
Before he could go any further, Voldemort apparated in the middle of the pub. "Now you know why I want to kill you!" he bellowed with cotton balls wedged in his ears. "Get him! Get him!" he ordered to an army of Dementors.
Fortunately for Harry, Neville Longbottom decided out of nowhere to sacrifice himself in order for him to get away. *Goes to prove he wasn't good for nothing,* Harry thought as he entered the Gryffindor common room.
He was heading towards the boys' staircase when he noticed Ginny Weasley was sleeping on the couch next to the fire place because it was, in fact, the middle of the night. Suddenly, he realised she was gorgeous and the perfect girl for him, and that he wanted to tell her all about his fascinating life and most of all about Sirius's gruesome death, a sure-fire way to get any girl in bed.
"Ginny, wake up!" he said, slapping her hard in the face.
Ginny opened her chocolate brown eyes and smiled at him. "Oh, Harry, is this a dream?"
"Well, actually, no, it's a really bad fanfiction, but let's make the author's trouble worthwhile, shall we?"
And so, after THE inevitable minutely detailed smut scene, Harry Potter lived happily ever after.
THE END