"Um,
Leia, what was that about?" Harry asked, feeling extremely DISTURBED because that is one of the
emotions the necromancess is designed to invoke.
Leia glared at him in a REALLY mysterious manner.
"Huh, what was what about?"
Harry shook his head. "Nothing." Of course,
he is now extremely curious about what exactly this item is. But he can't say
anything because he's too shocked.
Leia rolled her perfect eyes and climbed out of the
tub. "Whatever. I have to go put on my dark, sexy gothic clothing for the
Sorting Feast. And Hermione needs a makeover again."
Harry stumbled out after her. "Huh, but wasn't there just a scene where
Hermione stayed up all night making herself gorgeous again?"
Leia laughed darkly. "Oh, no-that was a scene
accidentally inserted from a 'Hermione as a pop princess' fifth year fic. Now that the popular music and clothing has become all
'alternative' and 'punk,' so will follow Hermione's current appearance."
Harry nodded excitedly. "Oooh,
ooh, so I WILL be able to date an ANGST PRINCESS after all!"
Leia gave him her Vague, Mysterious (R) look.
"Well, if she doesn't get involved with a certain equally angsty Proffesor, as she does
in-Oh, damn, I don't have my statistics book with me-well, a fairly large
percentage of angst fics." And, with a last wave
of her shimmering cascade of funky punked-up hair,
she was gone.
Harry suddenly found himself on the Hogwarts Express with Ron, Hermione, and
Ginny, bound for Hogwarts. Since Ron and Hermione were having a really
mysterious conversation and he suddenly didn't give a damn, he slid into a seat
next to Ginny and began staring in a depressed, sullen fashion out the window
and thinking depressed, sullen, angst-ridden bitter thoughts, which I can't be bothered
to type. Mostly, though, he was angsting over Leia's DARK MYSTERIOUS chantings
about the (color)(material)(item)of(element/weather
condition)
Suddenly from nowhere, Harry heard the voices again only this time clear as a
bell.
"The Orange Seashells of Happiness are the key.
Only when the beige ferret, the flaming leader, the escaper of death, and the
seeker of knowledge unite can it be found. The OSoH
is the answer! The OSoH will usher in the age of
greatness!"
And
at that moment, in to the room ambled Commander... um..
what was his name? Tree Branch or something?
"It's Root you insolent Man!" Tree Bark said going so red he looked
like he was choking. And of course, with him was Artemis himself, with gleaming
red eyes and moldy pink fluffy shorts. Of course that may have been due to the
red iris cams Foaly had been experimenting with...
Harry was starting to get a weird feeling this scene was familiar somehow, but
that was probably because of his multiple skull injuries he decided.
"So,"
Ginny was saying sweetly, trying to get Hermione to listen to her, "are
you going to snog Harry, Ron, Malfoy, Severus, or--"
"STOP!" screamed Harry. "STOP RUINING MY LIFE! STOP BREAKING
INTO MY ANGSTY REVERIE! STOP BEING SO HAPPY--AND
CHEERY--AND NON-PUNK-AND/OR-GOTH-Y!"
"Oh honestly," snapped Ginny, extremely grumpily. "Don't you
think it's bad enough that I dyed my hair black and put on so much makeup that
I look like some sort of demon? I HATE angsty fics! Eyeliner looks bad on me, and black and red and
purple? NOT my colors, Harry. NOT MY COLORS!" Harry was not listening. He
had gone back to looking out of the window, where it was raining dismally, to
match his bitter, resentful, angsty-teenager mood (as
usual).
"*I* spiked my hair," Ron said, as though this merited some sort of
award. "And dyed it magenta."
"Maroon, Ron," corrected Hermione.
"Magenta."
"Magenta is pink-ish, Ron. Your hair is just
really dark, ugly red."
"Oh, shut up!" Ron as well began ranting. "Why does Hermione
always have to yell at me? Why does my knowledge of colors have to be so
crappy? Why? Why? WHYYYYYYYY?" He then concentrated on imitating Harry and looking
sullen, angry, and bitter. He, however failed miserably, and ended up just
looking rather constipated. When Hermione pointed ths
out to him, he muttered, "I hate being second-best," darkly, and
continued staring constipated-ly out of the window.
Harry's
angsty mood seemed to be contagious. After a few
minutes, conversation broke up and Hermione began staring out the window too.
Ginny started to pick up the conversation but to no avail. She too finally,
stared out the window and muttered, "Thomas was cheating on me with his porridge..."
In fact, the teenage angst was so infectious that the whole train was affected
and the driver smashed the steering wheel in a fit of rage causing the train to
tumble off the tracks; But no one cared of course as they were all to
depressed.
But
even though they pretended that the train crash didn't affect them at all, when
it mysteriously got back on the tracks, unharmed, the teenagers were even MORE
depressed then they were previously.
They weren't depressed because the train crashed, though. When the train
crashed, some person opened a door to the outside to enter, letting the dreaded
sunlight enter the corridors of the cars. The AGNSTY
boys and girls shrunk away from the light that may have damaged their pale
complexions, and continued to brood by the windows.
However, a little man (who opened the door) stumbled through the cars, finally
locating Harry's compartment. He slid open the door, and entered with the cue
of low cello notes.
When no one even looked his way, the rat-faced man jumped around. Still, no one
noticed him, or, they were ignoring him very well. Exasperated, the little man
waved his hands frantically in front of Harry's face.
"HELLOOOOO? ANYONE HOME? HELLO? I'M LOOKING FOR REMUS LUPIN!"
Harry swore loudly. "Leave me alone!" he yelled out, folding his arms
defiantly. Peter Pettigrew stooped, defeated, before him.
"I--I just wanted to find Remus Lupin..."
Hermione's low voice came out of the shadows. "Why?"
Pettigrew let out a screechy laugh. "To kill him!"
Ron undid his constipated/ANGSTY face for a second
for his trademark side kick confused look. "You're gonna
kill Lupin? How?"
Wormtail thrust his hand into the air. "WITH MY SILVER HAND!"
Harry recoiled in horror, then realizing he was out of
sync, he quickly resumed his angsty mood.
"Yeah you do that." He muttered.
Petegrew blinked a couple of times, confused.
"That's silver bullets, you idiot," Ron sneered, not looking
constipated at all.
"Oh . . ." Wormtail shrugged. "So I'll melt it down and get me a gun."
It was at this time that the train arrived at Hogwarts School of Bac- I mean Withcraft and Wizardry. The three got into one of the Thestral pulled carriages and- we'll just fast-forward a bit to find our heroes at the Sorting Feast.
Harry noticed that some of the first years were taller than usual- super cliche' exchange students probably. He also noticed that
the taller ones were in the back of the line as 100% of Exchange student fanfictions have them to be. Then all was silent and the
Sorting Song began.
The Sorting Hat Song
"Well, hello First Years!
What you need to do,
Is put me over your ears!
I will sort through your brain
And suck up your thoughts
Like a drain!
Do you belong in Gryffindor, with the brave?
Or Slytherin, with the shrewd?
Maybe Hufflepuff, where loyalty is what they crave?
Or Ravenclaw, with those smarties?
I really don't know where to put you,
'Cause those fanfiction writers,
They just randomly put you,
Anywhere they please!
So put me on and I'll just guess,
But hurry up,
I want to get a make-over, so I don't look like such a mess!"
All
of the normal first years are of course of no importance and therefore will be
skipped.
A tall person with blonde hair and blue eyes, wearing alot
of make up walked up wearing a scowl.
"Turner, Legolas!"
"It's Greenleaf. GREENLEAF! And when can I take this ridiculous makeup
off?"
"GRYFFINDOR!"
Legolas sat down grudgingly muttering oaths of
revenge upon a certain author name Savage, fingering his bow.
"Face, Smiley."
:) walked up to the stool, showing no signs of nervousness as all first years
do. In fact, :) hardly ever showed any emotion at all, being stuck in that
position forever.
Harry was so busy listening to the narration he didn't notice what house :) got
sorted into.
Harry was overcome by a sudden fit of angst and banged his head on the table,
knocked himself out and missed the rest of the sorting. Needless to say, Leia was sorted into Gryffindor.
We now turn over the point of view to Ron temporarily so another author can
either name a few unimportant first years to take up space or add a couple more
exchange students - maybe someone would like to write themselves in as
89.4534562% of authors do? - maybe someone could add
in a traditional Mary Sue perhaps?
"Tanardawen, Rhea Lee" was naturally sorted in Slytherin to become Harry's angsty love interest as he battled his feelings for a Slytherin. Of course, he would also have to battle Legolas for her before this fic is through . . . She sat down next to :) at the Slytherin table and grinned cutely at everyone around her
And of course, there was " Blank ,Savage" who was too stupid
to fit in ANY of the four houses at all, but like the sorting song says, it
only obeys the whims of the writers therefore putting Savage in
"PINEAPPLE!" whose only other occupant was a very large Panda and an
empty milk bottle.
"Goldenhand, Lirael!" screamed
Professor McGonagall.
"WHAT?" screamed Lirael, who had suddenly
appeared out of absolutely nowhere despite the fact that one really can't do
that at Hogwarts. "I'm far older than 17, so how can I be sorted? And
nobody but the person writing this bad section of this good story knows
anything about me or my universe! All I came here to do was to kill--" she
suddenly paused. "But I could teach," she added hastily. "I'll
teach... er... er...
NECROMANCY!"
"Is that really something you can teach?" asked Flitwick
skeptically. Vector tried to roll her eyes but was stopped on the grounds that
she was too minor a character. Even Professor Sinistra
took a break from snogging Professor Snape to look at
Lirael.
"No it isn't," replied Lirael,
"but hey, in 15.83941269% of fanfics a
stupid, unnecessary new subject is created. Necromancy could be it!" The
school population continued to look at her skeptically. "And I'll work for
free."
"HIRED!" shouted Dumbledore, conjuring up a seat next to Professor
Snape (despite the fact that J. K. said conjured objects disappear after a
while.) Lirael smugly walked up to the chair and sat
down. Snape scowled and raked his hands through his greasy hair, and Lirael instantly knew that she had found her soul mate.
"What Nicholas doesn't know won't hurt him, I suppose," she said
seductively.
Within
five minutes Snape and Lirael were making out. Sinistra looked extremely pissed off, and even as she snogged Professor Flitwick, she was muttering darkly.
"What was that honey?" squeaked Flitwick.
"Oh, nothing," replied Professor Sinistra
sweetly.
What she had actually said, however, was, "Stupid be-Charter-Marked
hobo-woman... worse than Hermione... moving in on my territory... not fair...
threatening my status as official staff rent-a-girlfriend... not fair... I oughta...."
Sinistra continued to rant under her breath but it
was mostly extremely inappropriate and will not be recorded here.
Since Harry was out cold, Ron watched disinterested as "Fowl,
Artemis" was sorted into Slytherin, (I mean, he
is portrayed as cunning and ambitious in the books right?) "Sue,
Mary" and, "Evans, Mark" into Gryffindor. Hermione was
buried in Fanficiton Statistics for Dummies
Edition 2 trying to memorize it in record time.
After
the Sorting finally finished, Harry woke up very conveniently just in time to
enjoy the feast. But all of a sudden, there was a crackle of lighting. There
was a boom of terribly frightening, creepy, spooky, terrifying, horrifying,
fear-inducing thunder (the author accidentally spilt coffee on her thesaurus,
preventing her from going on any further.) The wind seemed to blow even harder
than usual. The lights dimmed and turned an extremely angsty,
suspenseful purple. The sound of rain echoed throughout the hall. All was--
"Oh get on with it already!" snapped Hermione from over her book.
The doors blew open, and in the darkness, a figure could be distinguished,
discerned, seen--damn that coffee! The lights suddenly flickered back to
normal.
A girl stood in the doorway. She smiled, nearly blinding people with the
brilliance of her immaculate white teeth. Everybody stared, and not just
because she was breathtakingly gorgeous. She looked exactly like Hermione.
"Who are you?" Harry asked, snapping out of his angsty
reverie for about five seconds.
"I," she said sweetly, "am Hermine."
"And I," came a voice from a figure who had just materialized next to
her ("AGH! HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO SAY IT?
HOW MANY TIMES?"), "am Darco."
"And I," yet another figure told them, "am Rems."
"We," they all chorused, "are your doubles."
"Your exact replicas..." continued Hermine.
"Your clones, almost..." Darco picked up
seamlessly just as Hermine stopped speaking.
"You might say," finished Rems, "your
typo twins."
------------
Note: Typo twins are the creation of whoever wrote "Sabriel, Lirael, and a Sheep".
---------------
One
of the typo twins, who looked exactly like Legolas
but for his extremely boxy and chunky-looking butt, emerged from the crowd and
spoke up in Legolas's trademark irritatingly
sarcastic and arrogant voice.
"My name is Legoarse. Legoarse
Greentea, hereafter known as Lego*cough* so that the
rating of this fic doesn't go up any higher than it
has to. I am here to destroy my twin to avenge (insert EXTREMELY complicated
and long evil action of Legolas here.)!!!"
Legolas cowered behind the horde of screaming fangirls who had been curling his long blonde hair.
"Are you a man or a mouse?" Lego*cough* inquired in an exaggeratedly
melodramatic fashion, at which point equally melodramatic duel music began
playing in the background.
"Errr, neither, dolt," Harry pointed out in
an incongruously sullen manner. "He's an ELF, you git."
How Lego*cough* heard this was a mystery, because it was muttered under Harry's
breath in a typical teenage fashion, and the typo twin was halfway across a
VERY large room. But of course, fanfics don't have to
be scientifically or even canonically accurate, so no one noticed this drastic
and irritating error, except for Hermione, who began angsting
under her breath about it because she had run out of other subjects to be
sullen and bitter over.
("ENOUGH WITH THE ASIDES," Rhea shouted at that current author from
her position on Artemis's lap, where she was bust being...*no, not that, you
PERVERTS*...beaten up for her lunch money, because Artemis had suddenly taken
on the stereotypical brutish, stupid minion Slytherin
personality that was still lingering around from all those fifth year fics. "HEM HEM," She
interrupted the current author again, because I am indeed rambling, at which
point I get pissed and shoot one of my custom made Thor(TM)
Author-bolts at her, killing her until one of the many resident
necromancers decides to revive her.)
However, Lego*cough* did hear Harry's remark, and it pissed him off so much that FOR ONCE his perfect character had screwed up, that he decided to skip the long, drawn out duel action sequence, and just stole one of my author bolts, added some special anti-necromancer spell to it, (which I can't be bothered to describe, except that its colour and name were most certainly DARK and ANGSTY.) and killed Legolas with it. Narda suddenly appeared, ("MAY GOD CONDEMN YOUR MINDLESS SOULS! HOW MANY BLOODY TIMES? HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU?!!!!) took one look at the bodies of her ex-boyfriend and alter-ego, and
screamed
in a very ANGSTY and DARK voice. "Noooo! She's been snogging him!" Except, when Narda
said "she," she was pointing to Legolas,
and "him" was referring to Rhea.
"Easy mistake," Artemis said, crossing the extremely large room in
three steps and taking her hand. "She" - he made her point to Rhea
(me) - "and him" - to Leogolas.
"Ooops." Narda blushed. "thanks."
"No problem. Wanna snog
a real man?" said Artemis who, incidentally, was still thirteen. He took Narda by the hand and lead her out
of the room.
The remaining characters looked around at each other, confused.