DISCLAIMER: Listen up, because I'm only going to say this once. I do not
own Harry Potter. I do not own Artemis Fowl. I do not own Lord of the
Rings. I do not own Star Wars. I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean. I do
not own anything else mentioned in this story that I do not own but I
forgot to mention. Blah blah blah blah blah blah.
IMPORTANT: This story was originally started on a different site by a different person but the person left eventually and allowed readers to add to the story. Now there's a bunch of co-writers who have unofficially taken over writing this. (Including me)
In other words, I'm not writing this story all by myself. There's a couple co-writers.
RATING INFO: This story is rated PG-13 for mild language and certain things that might not be suitable for young children to see. Nothing is extremely descriptive or explicit, (thankfully), but there is some stuff I wouldn't want my 7 year old sister to see. I don't think the "stuff" is anything totally OUTRAGEOUS, but just stuff that's not suitable for really really young kids. (i.e. very very very sporadic and MILD slash, people doing inappropriate things in closets (the story does not go into any details about those parts thankfully) )
One more thing: Most of this story was written before the 5th book came out.
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"Where's Hermione?" asked Ron anxiously, craning his giraffe-like neck over the crowd of people milling around the Hogwarts Express. "I can't see her anywhere!" Ron looked extremely upset.
"It's only in some fan fictions that Hermione gets a fabulous new makeover during the summer, you know," Harry reminded Ron exasperatedly, rolling his eyes.
Ron looked rather disappointed. Suddenly a voice popped up from behind the two friends.
"Ron! Harry!"
They whipped around. A beautiful girl stood a few feet away, waving merrily at them.
"Hermione?!"
"I guess this'll be one of those fan fics, eh mate?" whispered Ron excitedly to Harry, nudging him with his elbow.
There was a long pause. No one said anything. One minute passed... two minutes... three...
Finally Ron frowned upwards.
"Are you going to get the description of Hermione over with up there, or what? That's what we're waiting for!" he demanded angrily.
Harry nodded vigorously in agreement.
Ahem.
Hermione flipped her newly straightened hair. Her tanned skin seemed to glow bright enough to light up the entire platform. A tank top and tight jeans showed off her curvy new figure -
"Ok, ok, enough!" interrupted Ron. Just then, a small red-headed girl speeded by, stealing a quick glance at Harry, and then moving quickly on.
"Did she get a magical makeover too?" asked Harry eagerly to Ron.
Ron shrugged, looking rather disgusted. "I'm her brother, you know.I don't notice these things. And anyway, I shouldn't be talking to you."
"Why?"
"Hello? Where have you been? I'm supposed to be gaping at Hermione over here. Don't you ever read those fan fictions, young Harry?"
Harry nodded reluctantly. "But aren't I supposed to be the one who's taken with her?"
"Um, no!" piped up Hermione. "According to my research, In 62.8% of the fan fictions, you become enamored with Ginny. Best go with the majority."
Harry nodded again. "I'll do that then," he said, walking off in search of the youngest Weasley child.
"Ginny!" he called, spotting her with her friends.
She looked up, astonishment written all over her face.
"Yes?" she asked, walking toward Harry, leaving her group of now giggling friends.
Harry fiddled with his glasses. Suddenly, the pointy end poked him in the eye. He blinked, eyes watering.
"Darn. . ." he muttered.
Ginny looked at him curiously. "What's wrong?"
"My -er- well, you see.my coloured contact just fell out," Harry stammered.
"Colour contact? You mean your eyes-"
"Yes, what of it?" said Harry angrily. "Now, help me search for it."
So, the two crouched down on the ground, running their hands over the concrete, looking for Harry's contact lense. Before they could find it, a whistle from the train sounded.
"Bloody hell," said Harry. "Never mind this. Let's go, Ginny."
They boarded the train, in search of Ron and Hermione.
Following in true fan fiction fashion, the "train ride part" will not be present in the story, and the next scene will find our heroes at the feast.
"There's the first years!" said Ron, nodding toward a line of nervous- looking children that had just filed into the Great Hall.
"Oh, looky! There's the Sorting Hat!" said Harry giddily.
After singing its usual jovial rhyme, the Sorting Hat sorted the first years into their houses. Harry had thought that 'Carmon Zanzini' was the last of the lot, but -
"Oy! Look at her!" yelled Fred Weasley inanely, pointing wildly to a girl equipped with the usual looks that seem part of the packaged deal with exchange students. Long blonde hair, sky blue eyes and perfect, creamy skin.
"Could it be?" gasped Ron, letting go of Hermione's hand.
"An American exchange student?" countered Harry.
"Here?" said Neville rather hysterically.
"At Hogwarts?" asked Seamus Finnigan.
"Yes, yes," said Professor McGonagall impatiently. "And she will be entering into fifth year. Now come forward, Karen Bell."
"Which house do you think she'll be sorted into?" asked Ron anxiously, grabbing Harry's arm.
Harry didn't answer. He was too busy biting his nails in anticipation. "GRYFFINDOR!" said the hat.
Dean Thomas pumped his fist in the air. Ron and Harry whooped loudly. The Weasley twins jumped up from the table and danced around in circles.
Hermione interrupted their celebrations by clucking her tongue loudly. "I hate to burst your bubble, but what house did you think she'd be sorted into? I mean, don't tell me you thought she wouldn't be in Gryffindor. You've all read those "exchange student" fan fictions, haven't you? "
"No, unlike you, Hermione, we don't find it necessary to read every fan fiction on the Harry Potter boards," Ron answered, rolling his eyes.
"Come sit here!" Harry said to Karen, oblivious to the tears welling up in Ginny's eyes.
Karen sat down, smiling, showing two rows of perfectly straight, pearly white teeth.
"Hello," she said.
For the rest of the feast, none of the girls at the Gryffindor table could get a word in to the boys. They were all quite busy conversing with Karen, telling her about the great feats of bravery they had performed, handing her lavish bouquets of flowers and boxes of candy, or simply staring at her, mouth hanging wide open. One day, Harry, who had by now put Ginny on the shelf for the time being, saw Cho Chang standing in a cluster with approximately fifty of her very best friends.
"Cho?" said Harry.
She looked over at him, sadness in her eyes.
"Hi," she whispered, breaking away from her now giggling friends.
"Dammit!" cursed Harry, turning toward the group of girls. "Your stupid giggling is going to throw me off-balance and make me feel like a fool. Then I'll stutter and carry on for twenty minutes or so before becoming capable of human speech. Now bugger off!"
The girls, looking quite scandalized, immediately skedaddled, leaving Harry and Cho by themselves.
"I -er- suppose I should -er- ask you out," mumbled Harry. "I haven't been -er- keeping up with.the -er- latest trends in fan fictions.am I supposed to -er- forget about you over the summer. . . or -er- not?"
Cho looked thoughtful. "I'm not sure. I'm busy trying to figure out whether I'll happily say yes if you end up asking me, or still be in mourning for Cedric and say no."
Harry shrugged. "Well, -er- there's that new -er- American exchange student, who's sure to -er- muddle things up for whatever could have -er- happened.between you and me."
Cho looked miserable. "So.are you going with the "forget about me over the summer" lead?"
Harry nodded. "I think I'll do that. For the time being anyway. Trends are subject to change, you know. Good-bye, Cho." He turned away awkwardly, and walked silently down the empty hallway. Meanwhile, Hermione and Ron were skipping happily down a similar hallway, hand in hand. Suddenly, someone came running out of what one would think was an empty classroom. Ron and Hermione crashed headlong into this figure.
"Watch where you're going!" shouted Ron.
"Why, it's Weasel, isn't it?" said a familiar drawling voice.
Ron rolled his eyes. "Great, now we'll be getting a word from our dear friend Draco," he mumbled.
To Ron's utter surprise, Hermione threw her arms around Malfoy's neck.
"Um, Hermione," said Ron, waving his arms in front of her face. "I'm over here. Oy, Hermione! I thought I was your one true love!"
Hermione let go of Malfoy, giggling girlishly. "Oh, Ron," she said, as though explaining something to a two-year-old. "You can have more than one true love!"
"But who'll I get now?" Ron demanded. "Notice how there are so many girls Harry could possibly go out with. and none for me?"
"There's Padma Patil," suggested Malfoy in a sudden spurt of helpfulness.
"Ok, I don't get it," said Ron angrily. "What makes anyone think that I should go out with Padma? Am I the only one who noticed that we didn't exactly hit it off at the Yule Ball last year?"
"I suppose so," answered Malfoy, squeezing Hermione's hand, and looking at her with a smile on his pointed face.
"Blast it all. now I know why those D+H fan fics suck so much," Ron muttered to himself. "Always take the focus off that whole R+H vibe."
"There's Karen Bell," Hermione said.
Ron's ears went extremely pink. A dreamy expression crossed his face. "I like it, Hermione. A new angle"
"Well, off you go then!" said Hermione, pushing him away. Ron found Karen Bell sitting by the lake, and miraculously, by herself. He sat down.
"Hullo," he said, ears pink.
"Hello there," answered Karen in musical tones, flipping her hair.
"You're so beautiful," Ron blurted out.
Karen smiled and flipped her hair again.
"So, how is it for you? Switching schools and all that?"
"Oh, it's fine," she said airily. "Everyone has been so nice." Yet again, she flipped her long blonde hair.
"My, you like to do that an awful lot, don't you?" asked Ron.
"I have to. Supposedly, this maneuver will attract you to me."
Ron nodded dumbly. "Seems to be working."
They leaped into a nearby bush and began to make out. So, if you've been able to keep track, at this moment in time, everyone has someone.except our poor little Harry.
Who's out there for me? Were his thoughts as he roamed idly up the streets of Hogsmeade, feeling very sorry for himself. Hermione and Draco and Ron and Karen were all in the Three Broomsticks, enjoying butterbeers tête-à- tête. Even Ginny had a date; Neville Longbottom.
He decided he must muddle things up a bit. So, the angry teenager stormed into the Three Broomsticks, and proceeded to break up Hermione and Draco.
"It's time to add a little of that H+H groove," Harry said, grabbing Hermione out of her seat.
"What about me?" Malfoy whimpered.
"What about you?" questioned Harry.
"You know what I'm talking about," Draco said smoothly.
"I - I can't say that I -er- do," answered Harry, in a tone that revealed that he did in fact know exactly what Malfoy was talking about.
"There's a small but significant number of Harry+Draco fan fictions out there," Malfoy reminded him.
"Must we get into that?" Harry demanded, rolling his eyes. "I don't understand those.we do hate each other, don't you know?"
"I think most of the audience would prefer H+H," said Hermione bossily. "Come on, Harry, let's get out of here."
"Fickle, isn't she?" muttered Malfoy after the new couple had left. "Well, I guess that just leaves me with Ginny." He looked at her scathingly. "Even though the only time we've ever exchanged words is when she stuck up for Scarface when I was teasing him, and the only time we see each other is in the hallways at school, I'm sure we'll soon discover a true and undying love for each other. Opposites attract, you know," he said, as though trying to convince himself. When the students had returned to Hogwarts, safe and sound, they trooped down to the Great Hall for a hearty meal. Halfway through Harry's fourth helping of bean sprouts, however, Dumbledore interrupted them.
He stood up on his chair and waved his arms back and forth in the air in an attempt to get their attention. Finally Professor McGonagall, who was standing not too far from the aged headmaster, had to resort to whistling through her teeth, high and shrill. Dumbledore clapped his aged hands over his ears and scowled at McGonagall. She sat down meekly.
"Yes, thank you, Professor McGonagall," he said, still scowling. "Now, if you'll just listen to me for a moment, I would like to make an announcement. As you all undoubtedly know, next week is Halloween. In honour of this occasion or perhaps only because most fan fiction authors seem to like doing this, the school will be hosting a Halloween Ball. Everyone fourth year and up is encouraged to attend. Dress robes are a must. Hopefully we'll see you there!" he finished, waving jovially at them and sitting back down.
High-pitched shrieks coming from the girls suddenly filled up the momentary silence of the room. All the girls began to chatter noisily, except for Karen Bell, who simply tossed her hair provocatively. Harry and Ron, watching Hermione, Lavender and Parvati nanner on senselessly, rolled their eyes at each other. The day of the Halloween Ball, no one over fourth year could concentrate on their classes.
In fact, no one over fourth year showed up for classes, as they had decided that getting ready for the evening's festivities was more important than their schoolwork.
"Do I look all right?" said Harry, facing the mirror to pop in his forest- green contacts.
"Sure you do... but that's not important," answered Ron, nervously tugging at the sleeves of his dress robe. "How do I look?"
"Fine."
"I can't believe I'm going with Hermione!" burst out Harry happily. "She probably wouldn't have said 'yes' if I'd asked her something like this last year, but ever since the makeover, she's been a totally different person! She never does her schoolwork... and did you hear about that business with Justin Finch-Fletchley?"
Ron nodded. "And I can't believe I'm going with Padma Patil! We're so damned compatible!"
Harry frowned, quite puzzled at this statement, but agreed with his friend anyway. "Whatever shakes your butt, Ron."
They descended soon after into the Gryffindor common room to meet their dates. Here will follow a lengthy and dramatically detailed description of how their dates looked and what their dates wore, as this is such a very essential component of any fan fiction. Padma was dressed in robes of a deep, midnight blue material that shimmered whenever she moved. A golden rope belt that matched her earrings, necklace and shoes was wrapped around her waist, setting off the gold tint in her eyes. Her long, dark hair was braided into multitudes of tiny braids, which fell down her back becomingly. Ron's jaw fell open and crashed through several floors when he saw her. As soon as Harry saw Hermione, he followed suit, for his good friend had never looked so gorgeous in her entire life. She was wearing robes of deep red or purple, depending on what light you were in. Her jewelry set of a bracelet, necklace and earrings twinkled magically like stars in the night sky. Her hair spilled loose and straight over her shoulders, forming slight waves at the ends. She was -
"Ok, cut the crap," said Ron, rolling his eyes. "Let's just go and get this scene over with." The foursome entered the Great Hall, which was decorated for the occasion. I will mention the usual coupling formations in fan fics. Not that most of these characters is very important to the story, or would ever go out together, but to each his own, right?
Fred and Angelina were surrounded by a large circle of students watching them energetically cut a crease in the dance floor, Ginny and Draco were waltzing mournfully, while Neville Longbottom and Susan Bones danced, or shall I say tripped, their way about the room. And the list goes on.
When Harry and Hermione tried to find an empty classroom later on in the evening to make out, they found it impossible, as every single one was already occupied.
"Guess we'll just have to make out in the dormitories, then, won't we?" asked Hermione quite roguishly, as they entered the empty Gryffindor common room.
Harry guffawed. "Good night, Hermione," he said, kissing her long and slowly, and then going up to his dormitory.
"Have fun?" asked a voice from near the fireplace suddenly.
"Ron?"
"No, it's your great uncle Mervin," said the ruddy-haired boy, swiveling around in his chair.
"Yes, I did have fun as a matter of fact," Hermione answered stubbornly. "Now, good night."
She scampered off to her bedroom, leaving Ron all alone. The next day, everyone slept late, and spent the morning lazing around the common room in their pajamas and chatting.
"Oi! Harry!"
Fred's voice traversed the room, making Harry look up.
"What happened to," Fred's voice dropped to a stage whisper, "You-Know-Who? We're halfway through this fan fiction, and he hasn't been mentioned once. Isn't he supposed to be taking over the wizarding world about now, or something?"
"Realistically... but I've found that a popular trend in many stories is to forget about his existence entirely, and just concentrate on our tangled love lives."
Fred nodded comprehensively. "I see. Well, that sounds good, then." And he went back to making it out with Angelina. One evening, the oh-so-cliche couple Harry and Hermione took to the Quidditch pitch for a romantic midnight stroll. As Harry leaned his head toward Hermione suggestively, a ball hit him on the forehead, knocking his glasses off. The angry boy shook his fist at the sky, before realizing that, indeed, it was not the sky that had dropped the ball, but his Quidditch captain Oliver Wood.
"Sorry, Harry!" he yelled down.
"What're you doing up there, Wood?" Harry yelled back.
"Well, you know, the Quidditch final is only 7 months, 3 days and 11 hours off! I've been practicing all my new strategies! Plus, I wanted to ruin what could have been a wonderful cheesy, lovey-dovey scene between you and Hermione."
"Oh." Harry thought for a moment. "Why?"
"H+O, Harry, that's all I'm saying. H+O."
Wood touched down onto the ground, winking roguishly in something of the fashion that Professor Lockhart used to do.
Hermione began giggling like the schoolgirl that she was, and between that and Harry's aching head, he couldn't take any more and left the Quidditch pitch in a hurry, in direction of his dormitory.
On his way up, he couldn't help but hear as Professor McGonagall was telling off a couple of students for using her classroom to suit their -er- needs.
"Yes, happy as I undoubtedly am that your undergarments are made of matching material, Miss Weasley, I think it would be in your best interests to keep such vital information to yourself!"
"Professor -" Harry heard Draco Malfoy's familiar voice saying.
"Not a word, Mr. Malfoy, or I shall be informing the headmaster of your actions. Now, please, put your clothes back on, and both of you get to your dormitories. I shall punish as I see fit tomorrow." Harry paced up and down the common room, checking his watch at intervals to see if it was time to descend to the lake to meet Aylis. This new addition to the school was a girl who, under most mysterious circumstances had been sent to Scotland to live with her aunt, grandmother, cousin, sister... I've seen many possibilities in my day... they seem to be endless, don't they?
However, she had enrolled in Hogwarts in the middle of the year, and had been sorted the previous evening into Slytherin. Little did Harry know that, gasp! She was his nemesis, Lord Voldemort's daughter.
He soon made his way to the lake, and saw Aylis standing on the brink watching interestedly as the squid propelled its tentacles in the air. Harry walked up to her from behind, and surprised her by grabbing her shoulders. She turned around furiously. For a moment Harry thought that her eyes had glowed red, but they had turned back to their usual hazel colour before he could put two and two together. Probably just the sunlight, Harry concluded to himself simply.
Our hormonally hazed hero knew that he loved this girl, just by looking at her. He would never have feelings such as these for anyone else but her. It didn't even matter who she was...
These thoughts circled through his mind as the couple leaped into the infamous bush to start making out. Meanwhile, in the library, Hermione was desperately trying to score her ex- boyfriend, Draco's attention.
"How hot is it?" she murmured to him, fanning her face.
"Unbearable," he said, not looking up from his book, entitled 1001 Ways to Make it Seem as Though You're a Good Seeker.
"Summer just showed up out of nowhere... " Hermione said.
"Like a visit from you, Hermione, unannounced and uncomfortable," answered Draco scathingly.
"Well something's gotta give, Draco, because I'm sweating like a prostitute in church!"
Draco answered by rolling his eyes, slamming his book shut, flinging it at Hermione's head, and leaving the library. ******************************************
Harry, Ron and Hermione sat in the library working for the first time in months, in fact, scratch that, in fanfiction they never go to class! They were sitting in the library-gossiping.
"I've got to go to the bathroom." said Ron.
As soon as Ron was gone Harry looked deeply into Hermione's eyes.
"Hermione... I have to ask you something, I want you to give me the honest truth..." Harry gulped.
"Yes Harry?" Hermione asked hopefully as she stood.
Harry stood up with her, took a deep breath then--
"Does my bum look big in this?"
"No." Hermione sighed and slumped down into her chair.
"Are you sure?" He asked.
"Yes."
"YAY!" Harry screamed girlishly and ran out of the library. Ron and Harry were getting slightly brain washed by the increase of fanfics sounding more and more similar to American teen movies. "Too right." said Ron. So in the true spirit of Clueless, She's all that, and every other teen cult movie, they randomly decided one day to give a girl a makeover and turn her into Yule Ball Queen.
"We did?"
They spotted their lucky girl one day in potions, sitting next to Crabbe. It was. . .
"Oh no not Pansy Parkinson!" gasped Ron
. . .no. . . it was. . .
"Not Millicent Bulstrode!"
CAN I CONTINUE?!
"Oh yeah, sure"
It was. . . Goyle.
"WHAT?!"
"Well Ron I'm sure that behind that hard, grossly repulsive exterior there is a beautiful young woman...very deep down..." "Very, very, very deep down," Ron said skeptically. "I mean, really, he needs a new wardrobe, something more his color . . . what's with this black we wear all the time?"
"Doofus, it's a fanfic," Hermione said hotly. "We girls go around in tank tops and mini skirts and you guys all get muscle shirts. At least, according to 78.93% of fic writers, and that's good enough for me." Hermione - who, if you remember, had already gotten her makeover - was spotting a hot pink spaghetti strap top, a dark blue denim skirt, strappy shoes with five inch heels, silver hoop earrings, and her hair was of course no longer bushy but sleek and attractive.
"Man, we need to make Goyle look like her," Harry whispered, a trail of drool escaping down his chin. Hermione approached Goyle after potions class with the idea of a makeover. This being a fanfic, he was, of course, perfectly friendly and flattered that the Gryffindors were taking so much interest in him.
So, for weeks, completely forgetting her homework, and of course skipping classes, Hermione and co. used the especial Apparating licenses they had (because this is a fanfic) and went shopping in Muggle London at all the trendiest boutiques for incredibly hip baggy argo pants, highlighting kits, and hair gel. With his newfound potions skill, Neville whipped up a secret anti-acne potion to give Goyle the ladylike skin he'd always dreamed of. Finally, one Saturday morning in the trophy room, they set to work. Harry, Ron and Hermione were just about to start transforming Goyle when a large black dog leaped into the room and knocked Harry over.
"Sirius!" he cried happily as the dog changed into his beloved, convicted murderer godfather.
"Harry!" the thin man cried, hugging Harry tightly.
Harry suddenly pulled away, worried. "You shouldn't have changed here! Someone could see you."
Ron whispered to Harry, "You're forgetting, Harry, nothing bad can happen in this story."
"Actually, Harry," Sirius answered, "I have been cleared of all blame and am no longer a fugitive."
"Was Pettigrew caught?" Hermione interrupted.
Sirius shook his head. "Nope, I've got no idea why they think I'm innocent now. But I wanted to ask you, Harry, if you would like to come and stay with me over the summer?"
Harry nodded happily, though he had known all along something like this would happen. Sirius noticed Goyle and said, "I'd better be going, I can see you have a lot of work to do fixing this one up." He gave Harry one last hug and disapparated, much to Hermione's distress ("He really can't do that in Hogwarts, you know.") So our trio began the long and tedious process of turning Goyle into Yule Ball Queen material. Thanks to Hermione and her endless supply of beauty and makeover spells ("That's all I did all summer," she sighed happily.) Goyle did indeed look beautiful when they were through with him.
As they admired their work, Ron and Hermione shot each other nervous glances and began to blush.
"What's gotten into the two of you?" Harry asked.
Neither one answered, seeing as they were rather busy making out. Harry nodded knowingly, and then turned back to Goyle.
"Thanks, Harry," the Slytherin shyly said.
"You're quite welcome, Goyle," Harry said. "I'm sure you'll get to be Yule Ball Queen."
"I'd-like-you-to-be-my-King," Goyle said very fast. Harry stared.
"Uh, thanks, Goyle, but you must be stuck in the American teen movie, where the newly beautified queen always gets the man who made her over. We're in a Harry Potter fan fiction. The man I could ever care for is Draco Malfoy," Harry explained.
Ron and Hermione stopped exchanging spit long enough to look at Harry. "Um, Harry?" Ron said hesitantly.
"Yeah?"
"That Harry-Draco thing is so three weeks ago. Harry-Snape fics are on the rage now, remembered?" the redhead pointed out.
"Oh yeah. . . "
Hermione snorted." Harry-Snape fics? What about the Hermione-Snape fics? They're cropping up all over the place!"
"Why don't we find the ratio of Harry-Snape to the total number of posts and the ratio of Hermione-Snape to the total number of posts," Goyle said way more intelligently than any Slytherin had ever said anything before.
Harry and Hermione looked at each other. "Nah," Harry said at last. "We can share him." "But Harry," said Goyle, who was showing an unknown aptitude for both magic and match as he had whipped an abacus out of the air, "Hermione-Snape fics are ten percent more popular."
"But no one writes a Harry-Goyle fic," our hero said disgustedly.
"Sadly, know. But I do wish to point out -"
"Harry-Goyle?" Ron wrinkled his nose. "What about Ron-Goyle? At least we're in the same House."
Goyle sighed patiently. "I was about to tell you that 53.685% of readers who see a fanfic labeled D+H or some variation thereof are shocked, as their first thought is that it is a Draco-Harry fic."
Harry frowned. "Yeah, but didn't we already do that? I mean, I have the distinct memory that he's a bad kisser . . . "
"He's not as bad as Snape," Hermione said thoughtfully, forgetting that D+H fics hardly ever evolved into a H+S fic, unless it was a D+H+S, and that was just too freaky.
"But better than Ginny," Ron agreed.
Everyone stared at him and he blushed, causing the author to throw in some sort of clincher sentence really quick so they could move on to another scene and not have to puzzle out the complexities of who kissed better than whom, especially with all these secrets flying about . . . . Harry suddenly noticed that Goyle had passed out cold on the floor. The debate on who was a better kisser mixed with all of the ff statistics overcoming his tiny brain.
"Oh no!" Harry exclaimed, silencing Hermione and Ron's furious debate about Ginny's kissing abilities. "How is Goyle going to become Yule Ball Queen now?"
"I know!" Ron cried, suddenly becoming the hero and pushing Harry into the loveable sidekick role. "It's like Sleeping Beauty! You'll have to kiss him, Harry."
Harry looked scared and disgusted, the only two faces the sidekick is allowed to make. But he knew that the hero was always right, so he leaned over and gave Goyle a quick kiss. "Yuck!" he said, "You're a worse kisser than old Mrs. Figg!"
But Goyle sat up and smiled.
"We'd better get to the ball now, before any other plot twists happen to us," Hermione urged. Hermione, being already very beautiful, simply used watermelon-scented lotion on her tan skin and clear gloss on her strawberry- colored lips to make them shiny. Her long brown hair (no longer bushy, of course) was twisted up into a French twist on the back of her head with a few tendrils trailing seductively on the back of her neck. (Later I'll keep a running commentary of who was seduced.) Her robes were of course not the same pale blue as last year, but she wore a slinky black gown that was strapless, backless, and really, really short with a slit up to there. It was really cute on her, especially with the strappy stiletto heels.
And Goyle . . . oh, Goyle! S/he was the hit of the ball! His/her hair was beautifully permed and highlighted with the palest blonde, setting off his/her dark unibrow. (For the ease of typing, Goyle had a bit more than a regular makeover and is now Goyla, feminine, if you please.) Goyla wore a simple ribbon headband, a pale blue shimmer that perfectly matched her low cut, off-the-shoulder gown, magically enhanced so that her extra pounds did not show. She also wore bright blue contacts, as she thought her glasses did not compliment the dress, but she loves to read. Her shoes were glass slippers, as Goyla forgot they were doing a Sleeping Beauty theme and was all set to play Cinderella.
But, of course, there were also the Patil twins, Padma and Parvati . . . . . . But we can merely recommend a few good fanfics (2,821 at last count) where the girls are described in full detail. But what about the guys, huh? What about them?
Harry had borrowed a bunch of Hermione's hair care products and managed to get the entire mass into a shining, sleek style reminiscent of Draco Malfoy (who, on a side note, was a better kisser than Mrs. Figg, perhaps tied with Ginny, though Ron might disagree). His robes were a deep magenta that shimmered when he walked in his gold ballet flats. He, of course, still wore his glasses, but some face-care products, borrowed from one Gilderoy Lockhart, were able to cover up that nasty scar on his head, one he didn't really like, anyway.
Ron was wearing a frilly orange thing with gobs of old, moldy lace at the collar and cuffs. Sadly, Harry had used up all the make-up, so Ron's freckles stayed. Instead, using a bit of burnt wood from the fireplace, Harry drew a rather lopsided lighting bolt on his friend's forehead, just to be fair. At last, the boys were ready for the ball (which should only happen during Tri-Wizard Cup years, but no I'm repeating myself, and 78.32109% of fanfic authors disagree, so that makes me in the minority . . .) The Potions professor was clad in black (gee, really?) though it was neither slinky nor sparkly. In fact, it was just his common everyday garb, and his hair was of course still long and greasy, again owing to the fact that Harry used up all the hair care products. So everyone was (in at least his opinion) looking very sexy, except Snape, which really doesn't explain what happened next . . .
Dumbledore had imported at least seven dozen new bushes onto Hogwarts ground for the sole purpose hiding couples while they did things I'm not going to explain because I do believe this has currently been rated G. (Sorry, I do know that 23.65894% of fics go above and beyond anything we really need to know as far as the authors describing exactly how they want to make out with Harry, but that's not above 50%, so, for the moment, those statistics are being ignored.) Anyway, Snape found his way into one of the bushes, knocked Ron unconscious, and . . . (Ugh, I can't believe I'm writing this . . .) anyway, we're going to do a time lapse thing here, and the next thing you know, Hermione comes up to Ron and Harry here they are playing wizard's chess, clears her throat, and says "Guys, I have something to tell you. . ." "Harry, I'm really your long lost twin sister. Don't ask me to relate all the details, as the author of this post is too lazy to play around with the jigsaw puzzle pieces of the Harry Potter world, but I thought I would tell you this rather important bit of information."
Harry stood gaping at Hermione, only able to utter the occasional "er" sound, as Ron kept saying "bloody hell" loudly to himself in the background, trying to top the overly-tragic music playing that was supposed to add to the dramatic turmoil.
Finally:
"That means...all those times...and we were really related?"
Hermione nodded. "Plus," here she gulped, "I'm...going to have a baby, Harry. I don't know who the father is." (Geeez this is getting x-rated fast)
"Well..." Harry also gulped. "Well hell."
Ron gulped also. "That's bloody odd, you bloody lot." Hermione sighed. "I know, it's rather a lot of DNA tests to pass around, isn't it? I've loads of lists to make: you two, Draco, Crabbe, Goyle (well, she was still a he back then), Snape, Filch -"
Ron stopped his "bloody hells" long enough to puke into a bucket. "My word, Hermione! You don't mean you . . . I mean . . . er . . . eww."
"And I don't remember anything." Harry scratched his head. "I mean, butterbeers are only so potent, and . . . well . . . you'd think I'd remember," he finished lamely.
Hermione flushed. "Well, you don't always guard your drink very well."
"What?!"
"And it's so terribly easy to slip something in," she rushed on.
Ron stopped puking and went back to his "bloody hells." "Won't someone shut off that music so a bloke can think?" he called out irritably and, amazingly, it stopped. "There. Hermione, you knew Harry was your twin brother and you still slipped something in his drink?"
She shrugged. "Well, yeah. C'mon, Ron, you're just jealous you never thought of it."
Ron turned bright red.
Harry massaged his temples. Could this get any worse? Of course, things could always get worse, as Harry found out when he opened his eyes and Peter Pettigrew was standing in the room. He stared at Wormtail, surprised, as Ron (back to his sidekick role) looked terrified and Hermione looked annoyed.
"You can't apparate into Hogwarts, Peter," she scolded. "You've just ruined my big dramatic scene. For the first time, I was the center of attention for something other than grades, and you go and interrupt!!" She buried her face in her arms and cried.
Peter looked confused for a moment, almost as confused as Harry, who had been reassured that Peter never factored into most fanfics. But after a moment, Peter recovered and grabbed a stunned Harry by the arm and disapparated. This caused Hermione to cry even harder as she tried to shout, "You can't DO that, you weasel!" Ron gasped and began to run around like a chicken with its head cut off, having no idea who he was without Harry there. Hermione stopped bawling long enough to take charge, and she pulled Ron through the halls to Dumbledore's office, where she proceeded to say the name of every candy she had ever heard of, but to no avail.
"Bloody he--," Ron said, slumping to the floor. To their amazement, that appeared to be the password and they entered the Headmaster's office.
To their further amazement, Harry was sitting in the office, having tea with Dumbledore.
"What happened?" Ron exclaimed, grateful to know who he was again. "How'd you get back?"
Harry smiled. "You see, Voldemort and Peter knew about some ancient magic, but they had forgotten about the Magic from WAAAAAAAY Before the Dawn of Time, which says if a prisoner is popular enough to have over 10,000 fanfictions written about him, he cannot be killed by his nemesis. I reminded them of this ancient magic, and they sent me back to school."
Ron nodded in absolute amazement, and then Dumbledore cleared his throat and said... "I never liked those fanfictions, anyway."
Harry's eyes bugged. "What?!"
"Oh, come on, Harry." The headmaster set down his teacup. "To actually like those things, you have to be a fan."
"But there's a rumor that Harry's biggest fan was going to be killed in the next book, and we all thought it was you!" Hermione said.
"Unless it's Hagrid," Ron pointed out. "He's a pretty big fan . . ."
"Yeah, but there's also the unpopular theories, like Colin, Ginny, another one of the Weasley clan . . ." Dumbledore was ticking off on his fingers.
"Wait - I thought you didn't read the fanfics," Harry said, confused. He rather liked reading them, especially the H+H fics and the ones where the authors brought in totally hot exchange students for the sole purpose of making out with him.
"Just the rumors," Dumbledore assured him. "So I know what's going to happen next."
"Well, you didn't predict this!"
The four of them whirled around. "Oh, no!" Hermione shrieked, grabbing Harry's arm because he was closest. "It's . . . " We return to our trio as Hermione was gripping Harry's arm and pointing at the newcomer, saying, "It's...your cousin Dudley!", and fainting.
Dumbledore looked calmly at the large boy who stood before him. "Actually, I did predict this, Mr. Dursley, seeing as I am the one who invited you to come to Hogwarts."
Dudley looked confused for a moment, but then smiled and nodded. He looked at Harry and grinned more widely and maliciously.
"What do you mean you invited him, Professor?" Harry sputtered.
"Why, I am surprised you haven't heard, Harry," Dumbledore said. "It is quite a popular idea to have one of the Dursleys turn out to be magical, so I happened to notice Dudley's name on the list of wizards and thought it was high time he began his studies here."
Harry groaned. All he needed was for Dudley to come and bully him at school. The foreign exchange student wouldn't think he was hot stuff if he was being shoved into a garbage can by his gigantic cousin. Except at this moment the exchange student - call her what you will; I prefer the name Daisy for some reason - came into the office and blinked her large, beautiful, baby blue eyes. Harry's jaw dropped lower than her neckline. "Uh . . . hi."
"Hi." She flashed a couple dozen white teeth in a smile and whipped her perfectly straight blonde locks over her shoulder. "I'm here to . . . hello, handsome! where have you been all my life?"
"Uh . . .Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey," Dudley said stupidly, once again naming the full address so all stalkers could find him.
"Mmm-mmm-mmm, don't you look good enough to eat!"
"Eat?" Dudley perked up at this; he understood food.
"Yep." And, just as swiftly as she had come, Daisy dragged Dudley off in search of one of the Yule Ball bushes in order for a good make-out session.
Hermione screwed up her face in thought. "Oh, yeah. Guess that's another DNA test to run."
Harry opened his mouth to protest, but was stopped by . . .
IMPORTANT: This story was originally started on a different site by a different person but the person left eventually and allowed readers to add to the story. Now there's a bunch of co-writers who have unofficially taken over writing this. (Including me)
In other words, I'm not writing this story all by myself. There's a couple co-writers.
RATING INFO: This story is rated PG-13 for mild language and certain things that might not be suitable for young children to see. Nothing is extremely descriptive or explicit, (thankfully), but there is some stuff I wouldn't want my 7 year old sister to see. I don't think the "stuff" is anything totally OUTRAGEOUS, but just stuff that's not suitable for really really young kids. (i.e. very very very sporadic and MILD slash, people doing inappropriate things in closets (the story does not go into any details about those parts thankfully) )
One more thing: Most of this story was written before the 5th book came out.
****************************
"Where's Hermione?" asked Ron anxiously, craning his giraffe-like neck over the crowd of people milling around the Hogwarts Express. "I can't see her anywhere!" Ron looked extremely upset.
"It's only in some fan fictions that Hermione gets a fabulous new makeover during the summer, you know," Harry reminded Ron exasperatedly, rolling his eyes.
Ron looked rather disappointed. Suddenly a voice popped up from behind the two friends.
"Ron! Harry!"
They whipped around. A beautiful girl stood a few feet away, waving merrily at them.
"Hermione?!"
"I guess this'll be one of those fan fics, eh mate?" whispered Ron excitedly to Harry, nudging him with his elbow.
There was a long pause. No one said anything. One minute passed... two minutes... three...
Finally Ron frowned upwards.
"Are you going to get the description of Hermione over with up there, or what? That's what we're waiting for!" he demanded angrily.
Harry nodded vigorously in agreement.
Ahem.
Hermione flipped her newly straightened hair. Her tanned skin seemed to glow bright enough to light up the entire platform. A tank top and tight jeans showed off her curvy new figure -
"Ok, ok, enough!" interrupted Ron. Just then, a small red-headed girl speeded by, stealing a quick glance at Harry, and then moving quickly on.
"Did she get a magical makeover too?" asked Harry eagerly to Ron.
Ron shrugged, looking rather disgusted. "I'm her brother, you know.I don't notice these things. And anyway, I shouldn't be talking to you."
"Why?"
"Hello? Where have you been? I'm supposed to be gaping at Hermione over here. Don't you ever read those fan fictions, young Harry?"
Harry nodded reluctantly. "But aren't I supposed to be the one who's taken with her?"
"Um, no!" piped up Hermione. "According to my research, In 62.8% of the fan fictions, you become enamored with Ginny. Best go with the majority."
Harry nodded again. "I'll do that then," he said, walking off in search of the youngest Weasley child.
"Ginny!" he called, spotting her with her friends.
She looked up, astonishment written all over her face.
"Yes?" she asked, walking toward Harry, leaving her group of now giggling friends.
Harry fiddled with his glasses. Suddenly, the pointy end poked him in the eye. He blinked, eyes watering.
"Darn. . ." he muttered.
Ginny looked at him curiously. "What's wrong?"
"My -er- well, you see.my coloured contact just fell out," Harry stammered.
"Colour contact? You mean your eyes-"
"Yes, what of it?" said Harry angrily. "Now, help me search for it."
So, the two crouched down on the ground, running their hands over the concrete, looking for Harry's contact lense. Before they could find it, a whistle from the train sounded.
"Bloody hell," said Harry. "Never mind this. Let's go, Ginny."
They boarded the train, in search of Ron and Hermione.
Following in true fan fiction fashion, the "train ride part" will not be present in the story, and the next scene will find our heroes at the feast.
"There's the first years!" said Ron, nodding toward a line of nervous- looking children that had just filed into the Great Hall.
"Oh, looky! There's the Sorting Hat!" said Harry giddily.
After singing its usual jovial rhyme, the Sorting Hat sorted the first years into their houses. Harry had thought that 'Carmon Zanzini' was the last of the lot, but -
"Oy! Look at her!" yelled Fred Weasley inanely, pointing wildly to a girl equipped with the usual looks that seem part of the packaged deal with exchange students. Long blonde hair, sky blue eyes and perfect, creamy skin.
"Could it be?" gasped Ron, letting go of Hermione's hand.
"An American exchange student?" countered Harry.
"Here?" said Neville rather hysterically.
"At Hogwarts?" asked Seamus Finnigan.
"Yes, yes," said Professor McGonagall impatiently. "And she will be entering into fifth year. Now come forward, Karen Bell."
"Which house do you think she'll be sorted into?" asked Ron anxiously, grabbing Harry's arm.
Harry didn't answer. He was too busy biting his nails in anticipation. "GRYFFINDOR!" said the hat.
Dean Thomas pumped his fist in the air. Ron and Harry whooped loudly. The Weasley twins jumped up from the table and danced around in circles.
Hermione interrupted their celebrations by clucking her tongue loudly. "I hate to burst your bubble, but what house did you think she'd be sorted into? I mean, don't tell me you thought she wouldn't be in Gryffindor. You've all read those "exchange student" fan fictions, haven't you? "
"No, unlike you, Hermione, we don't find it necessary to read every fan fiction on the Harry Potter boards," Ron answered, rolling his eyes.
"Come sit here!" Harry said to Karen, oblivious to the tears welling up in Ginny's eyes.
Karen sat down, smiling, showing two rows of perfectly straight, pearly white teeth.
"Hello," she said.
For the rest of the feast, none of the girls at the Gryffindor table could get a word in to the boys. They were all quite busy conversing with Karen, telling her about the great feats of bravery they had performed, handing her lavish bouquets of flowers and boxes of candy, or simply staring at her, mouth hanging wide open. One day, Harry, who had by now put Ginny on the shelf for the time being, saw Cho Chang standing in a cluster with approximately fifty of her very best friends.
"Cho?" said Harry.
She looked over at him, sadness in her eyes.
"Hi," she whispered, breaking away from her now giggling friends.
"Dammit!" cursed Harry, turning toward the group of girls. "Your stupid giggling is going to throw me off-balance and make me feel like a fool. Then I'll stutter and carry on for twenty minutes or so before becoming capable of human speech. Now bugger off!"
The girls, looking quite scandalized, immediately skedaddled, leaving Harry and Cho by themselves.
"I -er- suppose I should -er- ask you out," mumbled Harry. "I haven't been -er- keeping up with.the -er- latest trends in fan fictions.am I supposed to -er- forget about you over the summer. . . or -er- not?"
Cho looked thoughtful. "I'm not sure. I'm busy trying to figure out whether I'll happily say yes if you end up asking me, or still be in mourning for Cedric and say no."
Harry shrugged. "Well, -er- there's that new -er- American exchange student, who's sure to -er- muddle things up for whatever could have -er- happened.between you and me."
Cho looked miserable. "So.are you going with the "forget about me over the summer" lead?"
Harry nodded. "I think I'll do that. For the time being anyway. Trends are subject to change, you know. Good-bye, Cho." He turned away awkwardly, and walked silently down the empty hallway. Meanwhile, Hermione and Ron were skipping happily down a similar hallway, hand in hand. Suddenly, someone came running out of what one would think was an empty classroom. Ron and Hermione crashed headlong into this figure.
"Watch where you're going!" shouted Ron.
"Why, it's Weasel, isn't it?" said a familiar drawling voice.
Ron rolled his eyes. "Great, now we'll be getting a word from our dear friend Draco," he mumbled.
To Ron's utter surprise, Hermione threw her arms around Malfoy's neck.
"Um, Hermione," said Ron, waving his arms in front of her face. "I'm over here. Oy, Hermione! I thought I was your one true love!"
Hermione let go of Malfoy, giggling girlishly. "Oh, Ron," she said, as though explaining something to a two-year-old. "You can have more than one true love!"
"But who'll I get now?" Ron demanded. "Notice how there are so many girls Harry could possibly go out with. and none for me?"
"There's Padma Patil," suggested Malfoy in a sudden spurt of helpfulness.
"Ok, I don't get it," said Ron angrily. "What makes anyone think that I should go out with Padma? Am I the only one who noticed that we didn't exactly hit it off at the Yule Ball last year?"
"I suppose so," answered Malfoy, squeezing Hermione's hand, and looking at her with a smile on his pointed face.
"Blast it all. now I know why those D+H fan fics suck so much," Ron muttered to himself. "Always take the focus off that whole R+H vibe."
"There's Karen Bell," Hermione said.
Ron's ears went extremely pink. A dreamy expression crossed his face. "I like it, Hermione. A new angle"
"Well, off you go then!" said Hermione, pushing him away. Ron found Karen Bell sitting by the lake, and miraculously, by herself. He sat down.
"Hullo," he said, ears pink.
"Hello there," answered Karen in musical tones, flipping her hair.
"You're so beautiful," Ron blurted out.
Karen smiled and flipped her hair again.
"So, how is it for you? Switching schools and all that?"
"Oh, it's fine," she said airily. "Everyone has been so nice." Yet again, she flipped her long blonde hair.
"My, you like to do that an awful lot, don't you?" asked Ron.
"I have to. Supposedly, this maneuver will attract you to me."
Ron nodded dumbly. "Seems to be working."
They leaped into a nearby bush and began to make out. So, if you've been able to keep track, at this moment in time, everyone has someone.except our poor little Harry.
Who's out there for me? Were his thoughts as he roamed idly up the streets of Hogsmeade, feeling very sorry for himself. Hermione and Draco and Ron and Karen were all in the Three Broomsticks, enjoying butterbeers tête-à- tête. Even Ginny had a date; Neville Longbottom.
He decided he must muddle things up a bit. So, the angry teenager stormed into the Three Broomsticks, and proceeded to break up Hermione and Draco.
"It's time to add a little of that H+H groove," Harry said, grabbing Hermione out of her seat.
"What about me?" Malfoy whimpered.
"What about you?" questioned Harry.
"You know what I'm talking about," Draco said smoothly.
"I - I can't say that I -er- do," answered Harry, in a tone that revealed that he did in fact know exactly what Malfoy was talking about.
"There's a small but significant number of Harry+Draco fan fictions out there," Malfoy reminded him.
"Must we get into that?" Harry demanded, rolling his eyes. "I don't understand those.we do hate each other, don't you know?"
"I think most of the audience would prefer H+H," said Hermione bossily. "Come on, Harry, let's get out of here."
"Fickle, isn't she?" muttered Malfoy after the new couple had left. "Well, I guess that just leaves me with Ginny." He looked at her scathingly. "Even though the only time we've ever exchanged words is when she stuck up for Scarface when I was teasing him, and the only time we see each other is in the hallways at school, I'm sure we'll soon discover a true and undying love for each other. Opposites attract, you know," he said, as though trying to convince himself. When the students had returned to Hogwarts, safe and sound, they trooped down to the Great Hall for a hearty meal. Halfway through Harry's fourth helping of bean sprouts, however, Dumbledore interrupted them.
He stood up on his chair and waved his arms back and forth in the air in an attempt to get their attention. Finally Professor McGonagall, who was standing not too far from the aged headmaster, had to resort to whistling through her teeth, high and shrill. Dumbledore clapped his aged hands over his ears and scowled at McGonagall. She sat down meekly.
"Yes, thank you, Professor McGonagall," he said, still scowling. "Now, if you'll just listen to me for a moment, I would like to make an announcement. As you all undoubtedly know, next week is Halloween. In honour of this occasion or perhaps only because most fan fiction authors seem to like doing this, the school will be hosting a Halloween Ball. Everyone fourth year and up is encouraged to attend. Dress robes are a must. Hopefully we'll see you there!" he finished, waving jovially at them and sitting back down.
High-pitched shrieks coming from the girls suddenly filled up the momentary silence of the room. All the girls began to chatter noisily, except for Karen Bell, who simply tossed her hair provocatively. Harry and Ron, watching Hermione, Lavender and Parvati nanner on senselessly, rolled their eyes at each other. The day of the Halloween Ball, no one over fourth year could concentrate on their classes.
In fact, no one over fourth year showed up for classes, as they had decided that getting ready for the evening's festivities was more important than their schoolwork.
"Do I look all right?" said Harry, facing the mirror to pop in his forest- green contacts.
"Sure you do... but that's not important," answered Ron, nervously tugging at the sleeves of his dress robe. "How do I look?"
"Fine."
"I can't believe I'm going with Hermione!" burst out Harry happily. "She probably wouldn't have said 'yes' if I'd asked her something like this last year, but ever since the makeover, she's been a totally different person! She never does her schoolwork... and did you hear about that business with Justin Finch-Fletchley?"
Ron nodded. "And I can't believe I'm going with Padma Patil! We're so damned compatible!"
Harry frowned, quite puzzled at this statement, but agreed with his friend anyway. "Whatever shakes your butt, Ron."
They descended soon after into the Gryffindor common room to meet their dates. Here will follow a lengthy and dramatically detailed description of how their dates looked and what their dates wore, as this is such a very essential component of any fan fiction. Padma was dressed in robes of a deep, midnight blue material that shimmered whenever she moved. A golden rope belt that matched her earrings, necklace and shoes was wrapped around her waist, setting off the gold tint in her eyes. Her long, dark hair was braided into multitudes of tiny braids, which fell down her back becomingly. Ron's jaw fell open and crashed through several floors when he saw her. As soon as Harry saw Hermione, he followed suit, for his good friend had never looked so gorgeous in her entire life. She was wearing robes of deep red or purple, depending on what light you were in. Her jewelry set of a bracelet, necklace and earrings twinkled magically like stars in the night sky. Her hair spilled loose and straight over her shoulders, forming slight waves at the ends. She was -
"Ok, cut the crap," said Ron, rolling his eyes. "Let's just go and get this scene over with." The foursome entered the Great Hall, which was decorated for the occasion. I will mention the usual coupling formations in fan fics. Not that most of these characters is very important to the story, or would ever go out together, but to each his own, right?
Fred and Angelina were surrounded by a large circle of students watching them energetically cut a crease in the dance floor, Ginny and Draco were waltzing mournfully, while Neville Longbottom and Susan Bones danced, or shall I say tripped, their way about the room. And the list goes on.
When Harry and Hermione tried to find an empty classroom later on in the evening to make out, they found it impossible, as every single one was already occupied.
"Guess we'll just have to make out in the dormitories, then, won't we?" asked Hermione quite roguishly, as they entered the empty Gryffindor common room.
Harry guffawed. "Good night, Hermione," he said, kissing her long and slowly, and then going up to his dormitory.
"Have fun?" asked a voice from near the fireplace suddenly.
"Ron?"
"No, it's your great uncle Mervin," said the ruddy-haired boy, swiveling around in his chair.
"Yes, I did have fun as a matter of fact," Hermione answered stubbornly. "Now, good night."
She scampered off to her bedroom, leaving Ron all alone. The next day, everyone slept late, and spent the morning lazing around the common room in their pajamas and chatting.
"Oi! Harry!"
Fred's voice traversed the room, making Harry look up.
"What happened to," Fred's voice dropped to a stage whisper, "You-Know-Who? We're halfway through this fan fiction, and he hasn't been mentioned once. Isn't he supposed to be taking over the wizarding world about now, or something?"
"Realistically... but I've found that a popular trend in many stories is to forget about his existence entirely, and just concentrate on our tangled love lives."
Fred nodded comprehensively. "I see. Well, that sounds good, then." And he went back to making it out with Angelina. One evening, the oh-so-cliche couple Harry and Hermione took to the Quidditch pitch for a romantic midnight stroll. As Harry leaned his head toward Hermione suggestively, a ball hit him on the forehead, knocking his glasses off. The angry boy shook his fist at the sky, before realizing that, indeed, it was not the sky that had dropped the ball, but his Quidditch captain Oliver Wood.
"Sorry, Harry!" he yelled down.
"What're you doing up there, Wood?" Harry yelled back.
"Well, you know, the Quidditch final is only 7 months, 3 days and 11 hours off! I've been practicing all my new strategies! Plus, I wanted to ruin what could have been a wonderful cheesy, lovey-dovey scene between you and Hermione."
"Oh." Harry thought for a moment. "Why?"
"H+O, Harry, that's all I'm saying. H+O."
Wood touched down onto the ground, winking roguishly in something of the fashion that Professor Lockhart used to do.
Hermione began giggling like the schoolgirl that she was, and between that and Harry's aching head, he couldn't take any more and left the Quidditch pitch in a hurry, in direction of his dormitory.
On his way up, he couldn't help but hear as Professor McGonagall was telling off a couple of students for using her classroom to suit their -er- needs.
"Yes, happy as I undoubtedly am that your undergarments are made of matching material, Miss Weasley, I think it would be in your best interests to keep such vital information to yourself!"
"Professor -" Harry heard Draco Malfoy's familiar voice saying.
"Not a word, Mr. Malfoy, or I shall be informing the headmaster of your actions. Now, please, put your clothes back on, and both of you get to your dormitories. I shall punish as I see fit tomorrow." Harry paced up and down the common room, checking his watch at intervals to see if it was time to descend to the lake to meet Aylis. This new addition to the school was a girl who, under most mysterious circumstances had been sent to Scotland to live with her aunt, grandmother, cousin, sister... I've seen many possibilities in my day... they seem to be endless, don't they?
However, she had enrolled in Hogwarts in the middle of the year, and had been sorted the previous evening into Slytherin. Little did Harry know that, gasp! She was his nemesis, Lord Voldemort's daughter.
He soon made his way to the lake, and saw Aylis standing on the brink watching interestedly as the squid propelled its tentacles in the air. Harry walked up to her from behind, and surprised her by grabbing her shoulders. She turned around furiously. For a moment Harry thought that her eyes had glowed red, but they had turned back to their usual hazel colour before he could put two and two together. Probably just the sunlight, Harry concluded to himself simply.
Our hormonally hazed hero knew that he loved this girl, just by looking at her. He would never have feelings such as these for anyone else but her. It didn't even matter who she was...
These thoughts circled through his mind as the couple leaped into the infamous bush to start making out. Meanwhile, in the library, Hermione was desperately trying to score her ex- boyfriend, Draco's attention.
"How hot is it?" she murmured to him, fanning her face.
"Unbearable," he said, not looking up from his book, entitled 1001 Ways to Make it Seem as Though You're a Good Seeker.
"Summer just showed up out of nowhere... " Hermione said.
"Like a visit from you, Hermione, unannounced and uncomfortable," answered Draco scathingly.
"Well something's gotta give, Draco, because I'm sweating like a prostitute in church!"
Draco answered by rolling his eyes, slamming his book shut, flinging it at Hermione's head, and leaving the library. ******************************************
Harry, Ron and Hermione sat in the library working for the first time in months, in fact, scratch that, in fanfiction they never go to class! They were sitting in the library-gossiping.
"I've got to go to the bathroom." said Ron.
As soon as Ron was gone Harry looked deeply into Hermione's eyes.
"Hermione... I have to ask you something, I want you to give me the honest truth..." Harry gulped.
"Yes Harry?" Hermione asked hopefully as she stood.
Harry stood up with her, took a deep breath then--
"Does my bum look big in this?"
"No." Hermione sighed and slumped down into her chair.
"Are you sure?" He asked.
"Yes."
"YAY!" Harry screamed girlishly and ran out of the library. Ron and Harry were getting slightly brain washed by the increase of fanfics sounding more and more similar to American teen movies. "Too right." said Ron. So in the true spirit of Clueless, She's all that, and every other teen cult movie, they randomly decided one day to give a girl a makeover and turn her into Yule Ball Queen.
"We did?"
They spotted their lucky girl one day in potions, sitting next to Crabbe. It was. . .
"Oh no not Pansy Parkinson!" gasped Ron
. . .no. . . it was. . .
"Not Millicent Bulstrode!"
CAN I CONTINUE?!
"Oh yeah, sure"
It was. . . Goyle.
"WHAT?!"
"Well Ron I'm sure that behind that hard, grossly repulsive exterior there is a beautiful young woman...very deep down..." "Very, very, very deep down," Ron said skeptically. "I mean, really, he needs a new wardrobe, something more his color . . . what's with this black we wear all the time?"
"Doofus, it's a fanfic," Hermione said hotly. "We girls go around in tank tops and mini skirts and you guys all get muscle shirts. At least, according to 78.93% of fic writers, and that's good enough for me." Hermione - who, if you remember, had already gotten her makeover - was spotting a hot pink spaghetti strap top, a dark blue denim skirt, strappy shoes with five inch heels, silver hoop earrings, and her hair was of course no longer bushy but sleek and attractive.
"Man, we need to make Goyle look like her," Harry whispered, a trail of drool escaping down his chin. Hermione approached Goyle after potions class with the idea of a makeover. This being a fanfic, he was, of course, perfectly friendly and flattered that the Gryffindors were taking so much interest in him.
So, for weeks, completely forgetting her homework, and of course skipping classes, Hermione and co. used the especial Apparating licenses they had (because this is a fanfic) and went shopping in Muggle London at all the trendiest boutiques for incredibly hip baggy argo pants, highlighting kits, and hair gel. With his newfound potions skill, Neville whipped up a secret anti-acne potion to give Goyle the ladylike skin he'd always dreamed of. Finally, one Saturday morning in the trophy room, they set to work. Harry, Ron and Hermione were just about to start transforming Goyle when a large black dog leaped into the room and knocked Harry over.
"Sirius!" he cried happily as the dog changed into his beloved, convicted murderer godfather.
"Harry!" the thin man cried, hugging Harry tightly.
Harry suddenly pulled away, worried. "You shouldn't have changed here! Someone could see you."
Ron whispered to Harry, "You're forgetting, Harry, nothing bad can happen in this story."
"Actually, Harry," Sirius answered, "I have been cleared of all blame and am no longer a fugitive."
"Was Pettigrew caught?" Hermione interrupted.
Sirius shook his head. "Nope, I've got no idea why they think I'm innocent now. But I wanted to ask you, Harry, if you would like to come and stay with me over the summer?"
Harry nodded happily, though he had known all along something like this would happen. Sirius noticed Goyle and said, "I'd better be going, I can see you have a lot of work to do fixing this one up." He gave Harry one last hug and disapparated, much to Hermione's distress ("He really can't do that in Hogwarts, you know.") So our trio began the long and tedious process of turning Goyle into Yule Ball Queen material. Thanks to Hermione and her endless supply of beauty and makeover spells ("That's all I did all summer," she sighed happily.) Goyle did indeed look beautiful when they were through with him.
As they admired their work, Ron and Hermione shot each other nervous glances and began to blush.
"What's gotten into the two of you?" Harry asked.
Neither one answered, seeing as they were rather busy making out. Harry nodded knowingly, and then turned back to Goyle.
"Thanks, Harry," the Slytherin shyly said.
"You're quite welcome, Goyle," Harry said. "I'm sure you'll get to be Yule Ball Queen."
"I'd-like-you-to-be-my-King," Goyle said very fast. Harry stared.
"Uh, thanks, Goyle, but you must be stuck in the American teen movie, where the newly beautified queen always gets the man who made her over. We're in a Harry Potter fan fiction. The man I could ever care for is Draco Malfoy," Harry explained.
Ron and Hermione stopped exchanging spit long enough to look at Harry. "Um, Harry?" Ron said hesitantly.
"Yeah?"
"That Harry-Draco thing is so three weeks ago. Harry-Snape fics are on the rage now, remembered?" the redhead pointed out.
"Oh yeah. . . "
Hermione snorted." Harry-Snape fics? What about the Hermione-Snape fics? They're cropping up all over the place!"
"Why don't we find the ratio of Harry-Snape to the total number of posts and the ratio of Hermione-Snape to the total number of posts," Goyle said way more intelligently than any Slytherin had ever said anything before.
Harry and Hermione looked at each other. "Nah," Harry said at last. "We can share him." "But Harry," said Goyle, who was showing an unknown aptitude for both magic and match as he had whipped an abacus out of the air, "Hermione-Snape fics are ten percent more popular."
"But no one writes a Harry-Goyle fic," our hero said disgustedly.
"Sadly, know. But I do wish to point out -"
"Harry-Goyle?" Ron wrinkled his nose. "What about Ron-Goyle? At least we're in the same House."
Goyle sighed patiently. "I was about to tell you that 53.685% of readers who see a fanfic labeled D+H or some variation thereof are shocked, as their first thought is that it is a Draco-Harry fic."
Harry frowned. "Yeah, but didn't we already do that? I mean, I have the distinct memory that he's a bad kisser . . . "
"He's not as bad as Snape," Hermione said thoughtfully, forgetting that D+H fics hardly ever evolved into a H+S fic, unless it was a D+H+S, and that was just too freaky.
"But better than Ginny," Ron agreed.
Everyone stared at him and he blushed, causing the author to throw in some sort of clincher sentence really quick so they could move on to another scene and not have to puzzle out the complexities of who kissed better than whom, especially with all these secrets flying about . . . . Harry suddenly noticed that Goyle had passed out cold on the floor. The debate on who was a better kisser mixed with all of the ff statistics overcoming his tiny brain.
"Oh no!" Harry exclaimed, silencing Hermione and Ron's furious debate about Ginny's kissing abilities. "How is Goyle going to become Yule Ball Queen now?"
"I know!" Ron cried, suddenly becoming the hero and pushing Harry into the loveable sidekick role. "It's like Sleeping Beauty! You'll have to kiss him, Harry."
Harry looked scared and disgusted, the only two faces the sidekick is allowed to make. But he knew that the hero was always right, so he leaned over and gave Goyle a quick kiss. "Yuck!" he said, "You're a worse kisser than old Mrs. Figg!"
But Goyle sat up and smiled.
"We'd better get to the ball now, before any other plot twists happen to us," Hermione urged. Hermione, being already very beautiful, simply used watermelon-scented lotion on her tan skin and clear gloss on her strawberry- colored lips to make them shiny. Her long brown hair (no longer bushy, of course) was twisted up into a French twist on the back of her head with a few tendrils trailing seductively on the back of her neck. (Later I'll keep a running commentary of who was seduced.) Her robes were of course not the same pale blue as last year, but she wore a slinky black gown that was strapless, backless, and really, really short with a slit up to there. It was really cute on her, especially with the strappy stiletto heels.
And Goyle . . . oh, Goyle! S/he was the hit of the ball! His/her hair was beautifully permed and highlighted with the palest blonde, setting off his/her dark unibrow. (For the ease of typing, Goyle had a bit more than a regular makeover and is now Goyla, feminine, if you please.) Goyla wore a simple ribbon headband, a pale blue shimmer that perfectly matched her low cut, off-the-shoulder gown, magically enhanced so that her extra pounds did not show. She also wore bright blue contacts, as she thought her glasses did not compliment the dress, but she loves to read. Her shoes were glass slippers, as Goyla forgot they were doing a Sleeping Beauty theme and was all set to play Cinderella.
But, of course, there were also the Patil twins, Padma and Parvati . . . . . . But we can merely recommend a few good fanfics (2,821 at last count) where the girls are described in full detail. But what about the guys, huh? What about them?
Harry had borrowed a bunch of Hermione's hair care products and managed to get the entire mass into a shining, sleek style reminiscent of Draco Malfoy (who, on a side note, was a better kisser than Mrs. Figg, perhaps tied with Ginny, though Ron might disagree). His robes were a deep magenta that shimmered when he walked in his gold ballet flats. He, of course, still wore his glasses, but some face-care products, borrowed from one Gilderoy Lockhart, were able to cover up that nasty scar on his head, one he didn't really like, anyway.
Ron was wearing a frilly orange thing with gobs of old, moldy lace at the collar and cuffs. Sadly, Harry had used up all the make-up, so Ron's freckles stayed. Instead, using a bit of burnt wood from the fireplace, Harry drew a rather lopsided lighting bolt on his friend's forehead, just to be fair. At last, the boys were ready for the ball (which should only happen during Tri-Wizard Cup years, but no I'm repeating myself, and 78.32109% of fanfic authors disagree, so that makes me in the minority . . .) The Potions professor was clad in black (gee, really?) though it was neither slinky nor sparkly. In fact, it was just his common everyday garb, and his hair was of course still long and greasy, again owing to the fact that Harry used up all the hair care products. So everyone was (in at least his opinion) looking very sexy, except Snape, which really doesn't explain what happened next . . .
Dumbledore had imported at least seven dozen new bushes onto Hogwarts ground for the sole purpose hiding couples while they did things I'm not going to explain because I do believe this has currently been rated G. (Sorry, I do know that 23.65894% of fics go above and beyond anything we really need to know as far as the authors describing exactly how they want to make out with Harry, but that's not above 50%, so, for the moment, those statistics are being ignored.) Anyway, Snape found his way into one of the bushes, knocked Ron unconscious, and . . . (Ugh, I can't believe I'm writing this . . .) anyway, we're going to do a time lapse thing here, and the next thing you know, Hermione comes up to Ron and Harry here they are playing wizard's chess, clears her throat, and says "Guys, I have something to tell you. . ." "Harry, I'm really your long lost twin sister. Don't ask me to relate all the details, as the author of this post is too lazy to play around with the jigsaw puzzle pieces of the Harry Potter world, but I thought I would tell you this rather important bit of information."
Harry stood gaping at Hermione, only able to utter the occasional "er" sound, as Ron kept saying "bloody hell" loudly to himself in the background, trying to top the overly-tragic music playing that was supposed to add to the dramatic turmoil.
Finally:
"That means...all those times...and we were really related?"
Hermione nodded. "Plus," here she gulped, "I'm...going to have a baby, Harry. I don't know who the father is." (Geeez this is getting x-rated fast)
"Well..." Harry also gulped. "Well hell."
Ron gulped also. "That's bloody odd, you bloody lot." Hermione sighed. "I know, it's rather a lot of DNA tests to pass around, isn't it? I've loads of lists to make: you two, Draco, Crabbe, Goyle (well, she was still a he back then), Snape, Filch -"
Ron stopped his "bloody hells" long enough to puke into a bucket. "My word, Hermione! You don't mean you . . . I mean . . . er . . . eww."
"And I don't remember anything." Harry scratched his head. "I mean, butterbeers are only so potent, and . . . well . . . you'd think I'd remember," he finished lamely.
Hermione flushed. "Well, you don't always guard your drink very well."
"What?!"
"And it's so terribly easy to slip something in," she rushed on.
Ron stopped puking and went back to his "bloody hells." "Won't someone shut off that music so a bloke can think?" he called out irritably and, amazingly, it stopped. "There. Hermione, you knew Harry was your twin brother and you still slipped something in his drink?"
She shrugged. "Well, yeah. C'mon, Ron, you're just jealous you never thought of it."
Ron turned bright red.
Harry massaged his temples. Could this get any worse? Of course, things could always get worse, as Harry found out when he opened his eyes and Peter Pettigrew was standing in the room. He stared at Wormtail, surprised, as Ron (back to his sidekick role) looked terrified and Hermione looked annoyed.
"You can't apparate into Hogwarts, Peter," she scolded. "You've just ruined my big dramatic scene. For the first time, I was the center of attention for something other than grades, and you go and interrupt!!" She buried her face in her arms and cried.
Peter looked confused for a moment, almost as confused as Harry, who had been reassured that Peter never factored into most fanfics. But after a moment, Peter recovered and grabbed a stunned Harry by the arm and disapparated. This caused Hermione to cry even harder as she tried to shout, "You can't DO that, you weasel!" Ron gasped and began to run around like a chicken with its head cut off, having no idea who he was without Harry there. Hermione stopped bawling long enough to take charge, and she pulled Ron through the halls to Dumbledore's office, where she proceeded to say the name of every candy she had ever heard of, but to no avail.
"Bloody he--," Ron said, slumping to the floor. To their amazement, that appeared to be the password and they entered the Headmaster's office.
To their further amazement, Harry was sitting in the office, having tea with Dumbledore.
"What happened?" Ron exclaimed, grateful to know who he was again. "How'd you get back?"
Harry smiled. "You see, Voldemort and Peter knew about some ancient magic, but they had forgotten about the Magic from WAAAAAAAY Before the Dawn of Time, which says if a prisoner is popular enough to have over 10,000 fanfictions written about him, he cannot be killed by his nemesis. I reminded them of this ancient magic, and they sent me back to school."
Ron nodded in absolute amazement, and then Dumbledore cleared his throat and said... "I never liked those fanfictions, anyway."
Harry's eyes bugged. "What?!"
"Oh, come on, Harry." The headmaster set down his teacup. "To actually like those things, you have to be a fan."
"But there's a rumor that Harry's biggest fan was going to be killed in the next book, and we all thought it was you!" Hermione said.
"Unless it's Hagrid," Ron pointed out. "He's a pretty big fan . . ."
"Yeah, but there's also the unpopular theories, like Colin, Ginny, another one of the Weasley clan . . ." Dumbledore was ticking off on his fingers.
"Wait - I thought you didn't read the fanfics," Harry said, confused. He rather liked reading them, especially the H+H fics and the ones where the authors brought in totally hot exchange students for the sole purpose of making out with him.
"Just the rumors," Dumbledore assured him. "So I know what's going to happen next."
"Well, you didn't predict this!"
The four of them whirled around. "Oh, no!" Hermione shrieked, grabbing Harry's arm because he was closest. "It's . . . " We return to our trio as Hermione was gripping Harry's arm and pointing at the newcomer, saying, "It's...your cousin Dudley!", and fainting.
Dumbledore looked calmly at the large boy who stood before him. "Actually, I did predict this, Mr. Dursley, seeing as I am the one who invited you to come to Hogwarts."
Dudley looked confused for a moment, but then smiled and nodded. He looked at Harry and grinned more widely and maliciously.
"What do you mean you invited him, Professor?" Harry sputtered.
"Why, I am surprised you haven't heard, Harry," Dumbledore said. "It is quite a popular idea to have one of the Dursleys turn out to be magical, so I happened to notice Dudley's name on the list of wizards and thought it was high time he began his studies here."
Harry groaned. All he needed was for Dudley to come and bully him at school. The foreign exchange student wouldn't think he was hot stuff if he was being shoved into a garbage can by his gigantic cousin. Except at this moment the exchange student - call her what you will; I prefer the name Daisy for some reason - came into the office and blinked her large, beautiful, baby blue eyes. Harry's jaw dropped lower than her neckline. "Uh . . . hi."
"Hi." She flashed a couple dozen white teeth in a smile and whipped her perfectly straight blonde locks over her shoulder. "I'm here to . . . hello, handsome! where have you been all my life?"
"Uh . . .Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey," Dudley said stupidly, once again naming the full address so all stalkers could find him.
"Mmm-mmm-mmm, don't you look good enough to eat!"
"Eat?" Dudley perked up at this; he understood food.
"Yep." And, just as swiftly as she had come, Daisy dragged Dudley off in search of one of the Yule Ball bushes in order for a good make-out session.
Hermione screwed up her face in thought. "Oh, yeah. Guess that's another DNA test to run."
Harry opened his mouth to protest, but was stopped by . . .