Hello, I'm Ebba. This is a Harry Potter par-oh-dee, so if you're anti-parody, I suggest you hike up your skirts and petticoats and leave now. It's generally about the lives of our five favorite Gryffindors after their school years in Hogwarts.
Note to all: I'm American. I didn't choose to be, but I am. This story takes place in Britain, I'm assuming Harry's not going to travel to America to live after he's done with Hogwarts... so my apologies. I don't know much about British geography and culture as well as I should. Bear with me. I'm a yankee.
I also would like to apologize for the accents I have bestowed so kindly on
Disclaimer: I didn't write Harry Potter. Please don't sue me, I might be forced to defend myself.
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Gryffindor House
By: Ebba
The sun rose over the city of London, sending bright rays of light pouring into the house located on number 15, Pentonville Road. The two bedroom, one bathroom house looked a bit shabby and extremely small compared to its neighbors. The light salmon colored paint was fading away. The garden looked as if it could do with a trim. Owl droppings were clearly visible on the roof. Bright green smoke was wafting from the chimmeny.
Green smoke was perfectly normal for the residents of number 15. For inside this house lived five wizards: Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnigan, and Dean Thomas, all former students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and now in their twenties. When faced with the challenge of living out of school, they greeted it with enthusiasm. They simply pooled their money and bought themselves what they referred to as the bachelor pad'.
Harry had gotten a full-time position as an Auror to the Ministry of Magic. Ron had a part-time job at the Leaky Cauldron. Seamus and Dean worked at the local Walmart Super center: their tendency to goof off outweighed their ambition to hold high-paying jobs. Neville was currently unemployed, he stayed home and did the gardening and washing up.
An radio alarm went off in the bedroom shared by Harry and Ron. Good moooor-ning, London! chuckled the DJ's poor attempt at Robin Williams. It's seven o' clock, time to roll out of those beds and head to the workplace! I've got some great tunes lined up for your morning drive: Led Zeppelin, the Doobie Brothers, and the Who. We'll kick it all off with a classic from Styx next-
But whatever Styx song was about to be played remained a mystery. Harry, upon hearing the word Styx' had grabbed his wand and yelled, The alarm clock exploded, and a shower of springs and coils rained over the duvet of Harry's bed.
Ron groaned and rolled over. That was the third alarm clock this week, he grumbled.
Coffee where coffee? was Harry's muffled reply from beneath his bedcovers.
Ron sighed loudly, and put on his fluffy slippers and scarlet dressing gown. He padded down to the kitchen. Neville was making breakfast, as usual, wearing his favorite pink frilly apron. He poked at the frying bacon with his wand, causing the entire skillet full to ignite. Neville screamed, and Ron rushed forward to douse the flames.
Neville stood, ashen-faced and chins wobbling. That was the last of the bacon! he howled, starting to cry.
Ron sighed again. S'okay, Neville, I'll pick some more up on my way to work.
Neville immediately brightened up. While you're at it, you might as well get... Neville shuffled around the kitchen, and finally found a rather long list of groceries. Ron stared at it, turning a little pale.
Truffles? Veal? Mudfish? asked Ron, reading the first three entries.
I thought I'd introduce some gourmet into our diets, Neville said happily.
Cheese Nips?
I have a problem, admitted Neville, lowering his head.
Harry, Seamus and Dean wandered into the kitchen, all looking rather grumpy and tired. Seamus and Dean were already clad in their blue Walmart vests and happy-face pin buttons. Harry was still trying to focus on near objects with his bloodshot eyes and was only wearing his plaid boxer shorts.
S'up, said Dean, upon entering the kitchen.
I burnt the bacon, but the eggs look edible, Neville said, cheerfully. He tipped a dozen scrambled eggs onto a platter in the middle of the table, along with a plate of toast and a jar of marmalade.
Harry was concentrating on the salt shaker when the doorbell rang. He jumped a foot in the air and knocked over his chair, landing on his back on the hard tiled floor. Who could be calling at this time? wondered Ron outloud.
Ah daen't knae, said Seamus. He slunk into the living room, and opened the blinds a crack to peer out at the doorstep. He gasped loudly. Et's Cho!
Harry jumped to life immediately. ASSUME POSITIONS! he snarled at his companions. He himself shot down the hall and locked himself in the linen closet. Dean and Seamus dived behind the sofa. Neville, trembling, dropped the bacon and stuffed himself with much difficulty into a kitchen cabinet. Ron was left alone to answer the door.
Why is it always me? he moaned, and the sofa snickered. He opened the door to the fully-matured Cho Chang, wearing a short leather skirt, and a furry red jacket. She took a long drag on her Virginia Slim and frowned at Ron.
Where's Harry? she said, peering around the doorway.
He's... erm, he's out. Left early for work. Erm... top-secret Ministry assignment. Very hush-hush, Ron said quickly.
Cho raised a heavily-penciled eyebrow. He can't avoid me forever. Is he hiding in the linen closet again? she asked, trying to look past Ron again.
said Ron, a little too quickly to be entirely plausible.
Cho dropped her cigarette on the doormat and stomped it out in a rather violent way. He's SO immature! I've called him every day since I've moved back to London, as has he returned even one call? NO! He's a right pain in the ass, you know... and yet... Cho fell forward sobbing and wrapped herself around Ron, who turned white. I love him, John!
Cho snarled, collecting herself, and standing back up. Well, when he gets back, tell him to call me, OR ELSE, she said, and she looked so foreboding that Ron was forcefully reminded of Neville's grandmother.
The door slammed as Cho left, and Dean and Seamus popped out from behind the sofa. Whew, thaet was a close one, Seamus said.
Easy for you to say, traitor, Ron said, still ghostly pale.
Harry reappeared from the linen closet. What a wonderful start to the day, he said, stretching.
Ron merely glared at him.
Mmm smmpftt mm dmmm frmmmggg! came Neville from inside the kitchen cupboard. His voice sounded a bit muffled, as if his face was smashed against the wall.
The four rushed into the kitchen to save their friend. The opened the cupboard to see Neville's backside, painfully lodged between the blender and the toaster. Neville made some more muffled noises, and Ron clicked his tongue in dismay.
What a moron.
I'll go for the crowbar.
After much use of the crowbar, and slightly disturbing details that shall be left out, Neville was freed from his oak prison. He stood up, slightly shakily, and muttered thanks.
Harry and Ron wandered back upstairs to change into their work robes, while Dean and Seamus went outside to warm up their 1997 Mercury Sable. Since they did not hold jobs within the magical community, they were forced by wizard law to use Muggle means of transportation to their jobs.
Dean and Seamus left for work, and Harry and Ron reappeared downstairs. I still need could use some coffee, Neville, Harry said pointedly.
Neville rushed off to fetch Harry his coffee in the kitchen, and Ron turned to Harry. Y'know, Harry, I can't take Cho's rap all the time. Maybe you should just talk to her and tell her that the relationship is over. I mean... she's only going after you now because you're famous from that whole Voldermort episode.
Yeah, I know, Harry said, shuffling his feet.
Speaking of which, when are you planning on killing him? Ron said. He came over the other day by Floo powder, and he asked if you two were still on for Thursday.
Harry looked up, glaring at Ron. I specifically told him NEXT Thursday! he yelled.
Well, he seemed very certain that it was this Thursday.
Harry shook his head, and paced back and forth. I told him to meet me at six o' clock in the evening, Trafalgar Square, NEXT THURSDAY!
Trafalgar Square? asked Ron.
Publicity reasons. You wouldn't understand. And I have an interview with The Mirror, Harry said, trying to look exasperated and important at the same time, and failing greatly.
Ron shrugged. Well, I'm off. See you tonight, he said, Apparating.
Harry sighed loudly, and looked at his reflection in the mirror above the fireplace, examining his scar. Why can't Voldermort just accept the fact that I'm right for once? It's so next Thursday, he mumbled to himself, as he Apparated himself to the Ministry.
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Later that night, when Harry, Ron, Dean, and Seamus had all arrived home, dinner had been cooked, owls had returned with the post, the doorbell rang again. Several times.
ASSUME POSITIONS! yelled Harry, knocking his TV dinner over and running for the linen closet.
It's okay, Harry! It's just me! came a familiar feminine voice.
Hermione? Is that you? called Neville from underneath the coffee table.
Hermione answered. Can I come in before the apocalypse?
Neville opened the door, and a rather brown Hermione entered. I've been traveling, she said breathlessly.
And now for something completely different, Harry muttered underneath his breath to Seamus.
Hermione had heard him, however. Well, excuse me if being the Chief Wizengamot doesn't take me across the seas every now and then! she said, rather huffily. I suppose you lot are extremely jealous of the fact that I get to leave Britain every now and then... see the world, you know. I have just returned from my trip to Egypt and Sudan, and I...
Thank you, Lucia, Seamus said, raising an eyebrow.
Hermione rolled her eyes, and deposited several hastily wrapped packages onto the coffee table. Gifts. For my most grateful friends, she said, sarcastically.
said Dean, grabbing for the small box with his name on it. Neville and Seamus dived for their gifts also.
So, how's the life of an Auror treating you, Harry? Hermione asked kindly.
It's fecking Auschwitz.
It can't be that bad, said Hermione, exasperatedly.
Harry laughed grimly. Fudge has decided that he needs a higher emphasis on International wizarding relations is in order because of Lord Voldermort's return to power, so he's called in some foreign wizards. You wouldn't believe...
Like who? asked Hermione.
Who would have known that Newt Gingrich was a wizard? cried Harry.
Actually, that makes some sense, Hermione said after some thought.
That's not the worst of it, Harry added. Bob Barker is a wizard and Joe Don Baker is a registered Squib.
Hermione shuddered involuntarily.
So... you just dropping by for the hell of it, or just to deflate our egos? Harry asked Hermione.
Well, partly to deflate your egos, and partly to tell Ron that he needs to bail Fred and George out of jail again, she replied.
Ron, who had until now gone unnoticed, twisted around to look at Hermione, going very red. Azkaban? What about Gred and Forge? he said, stupidly, turning an even brighter shade of scarlet.
Not Azkaban. Muggle prison. They accidentally' set off some Weasley Wizard Whiz-Bangs near McDonald's, and needless to say, the fireworks and the deep-fat fryer grease caused a bit of an electrical power surge.
How so? asked Ron.
Seven employees were injured, one of them is in St. Mungo's hospital because his tongs have fused to his hand and he has a nasty rash that smells like table salt.
said Ron.
Maybe you should just tell them to keep to the magical community instead of terrorizing all the Muggles, Hermione said.
Ron frowned. They don't terrorize just ANY Muggle. They target the fat ones, like Dudley. In fact, they ONLY terrorize Dudley. Was Dudley at that McDonald's? he asked, turning to Harry.
Harry shrugged. Probably. Last I heard from Petunia and Vernon, he was working there.
My point is, Hermione began, is that you need to tell the twins that the Accidental Magic Reverse Squad has them on speed dial.
What's speed dial? asked Neville.
Never mind, Hermione said, grumpily. Just... try to keep the twins in line, okay, Ron? They've caused loads of trouble at Hogwarts and in the magical community, but this... this... cruelty to Muggles is getting out of hand. The Ministry has enough to deal with already, and the Wizengamot is sick of seeing their freckled faces.
Ron nodded, turning slightly red.
Hermione looked around. I had better get going. I'm leaving for Germany tomorrow, and I still haven't unpacked from my Northern Africa trip! See you all later, she said, smiling smugly.
Harry shut the door after her. Well, auf Wiedersehen, Hundin, he muttered.
Such a lovely girl, Dean said, holding the Ra cigarette lighter that he had received from Hermione.
First Cho, now Fred and George in trouble... what next? whined Harry and Ron.
Neville rushed in from the kitchen, ashen-faced and eyes wide. A large cloud of black smoke issued out from under the kitchen door. He turned to Harry. Don't worry, Harry. It's all under control. Harry, I've got it under control. It's under control, Harry. HARRY, IT'S UNDER CONTROL! Neville yelled, shaking Harry by the shoulders.
Harry blinked, and Seamus raised his pewter stein with hieroglyphics embossed onto it in a mock toast. Here's to what's next, he grinned.
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Worth continuing or no? Please review!
This was a nightmare to spell-check.
Cheers-
Ebba