[A/N: Well, after the smashing success of the first chapter-]

"Ahem!"  Hermione cleared her throat.  "May I speak?"

[Um, I haven't finished introducing the chapter yet]

"Don't be ridiculous," she said.  She pulled a wand out from the tangles of her hair and gave it a wave: the Fat Hall came into view.  "It's really not that complicated.  We're at breakfast, school is starting, end of story."

[But I haven't done my author's note yet!]

She rolled her eyes.  "Nobody actually reads those!  They're always long and obnoxious and boring.  Why don't you just jump straight into the story?"

[I have things to say]

"Like what?"

[Well, er...]

"Exactly.  Let's get on to important business, namely, how many OWLs I managed to pass and why I'm the smartest person here." 

She suddenly sprouted acne across her forehead.

"Oh, I see, you want to play dirty!  Well, look here, author-person, you don't even have a plot yet, and therefore your story sucks!"

[Does not!]

She suddenly grew warts on her nose.

"Stop being so childish.  I'm trying to be serious here.  How can you have a story without a plot?"

[Well, I was planning on asking the reviewers where they thought I should go with this...]

"Oh, that's rich, let someone else think up the ideas for you?"

[I wouldn't put it that way...]

"What if nobody reviews?"

[Damn...I hadn't thought of that.]

"Hermione, leave her alone," Don said, stuffing bacon into his mouth as he spoke.

"Why should you care?  One, you're not the main character, Donald Weasley; two, you're happy as long as the author gives you plenty of food to eat."

"What's wrong with that?"  He stuffed a baby pig into his mouth and spit it back out when he realized it hadn't been cooked yet.  He sniffed it and then ate it anyway.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak when a bird suddenly dove in.  She managed to get it out after several minutes, but not after it had defecated.  Twice.  "Now you're just being plain rude!  What kind of author treats her characters so abhorrently?  There's nothing you can do to me to bring me down to your lowly level."

Hermione suddenly grew large breasts.  The entire male population of the hall spent the rest of breakfast trying to look down her shirt.  She was so enraged that she didn't even have time to read the five books she had set aside for that morning.  "Noooo!!!" she shrieked in despair.

[Learning not to mess with me, are you?]

"Okay, okay, you can have your author's notes, just put me back the way I was!"

Don reached a hand under the table and tried to feel up her legs.

"Stop that!"  She slapped his hand away.

"I'm a Weasley, I can do what I want.  It's in cannon that we secretly have the hots for each other anyway.  Besides, I'm a major supporting character; you can't do anything to me!"

An evil glint formed in Hermione eyes.

It took Hogwarts two days to find his body once Hermione was done, which was so mangled that even Buckbeak (who lived underneath Dumbledore's turban) wouldn't eat him. 

"What'd'ya do that for?" Harry demanded.  "Now we have to have auditions to find another Donald.  It'll take at least a week."

"This story is going to hell," Hermione commented bitterly.  "But I guess we're not going to get anywhere until she has her author's notes."

[Okay, okay, I'll make it short.  Questions abound at Hogwarts: does the title actually mean anything, is there even a plot to this derangement, and what kind of undies does Snape wear?  Also, watch out for Moulin Rouge cross-over.  I present....chapter two!]

2. A plot

"Oh that's an original title," Hermione muttered under her breath.

"So Hermione," Harry said.  "I was lying there in bed last night and I was thinking..."

"What about?"

"Sheep."

"Oh."

"And then I masturbated."

"Hmm."

"But then I got to thinking...we should find something to do this year that takes up all our time and ends up saving the school and gives Gryffindor ass-loads of points."  He shook back his long, shiny mane of black hair and reached up to adjust his glasses...only to realize that the author had taken them away in the last chapter.

"Well, we need to set up auditions for a new Donald Weasley..."

"No, we need some adventure, some challenge – something!  I can't be the hero of the story if I don't have something...heroish to do."

"But I don't have time to waste this year adventuring."

"Don't worry, the climax always comes after final exams are safely out the way."

"Well, since you put it that way."  Hermione rubbed her chin.  "Let's investigate what a wizard wears under his robes."

Harry smirked.  "I already know that one."

Neville, who was sitting a few seats down and listening in on the conversation, suddenly sat up straight and blushed.

"Let's investigate why Snape's hair is always so greasy," Harry suggested.  "But then again, I'm not sure I want to know.  Besides, I'm going to be busy bonding with him, since he's my father now, and I wouldn't want to upset him."

Hermione snorted.  "Since when?"

Dumbledore suddenly stood up from his seat in the middle of the staff table.  He was wearing orange knickers and a pink feather boa, and not much else.  His beard had rainbow colored beads braided into it.  "Children!  Professors!  Inanimate objects!" 

"'bout time we got some recognition," the fork whispered to the spoon, who giggled with delight.

"As you may have noticed, there has been a foul odor pervading the halls of Hogwarts!"

"I have noticed that," Hermione said, "but I thought Neville had used the bathroom in his pants again."

"Hey!" Neville sputtered angrily.  "I haven't done that since my fourth year!"

"It is beyond my abilities to stop this foul, this wretched, this horrid smell..."  He put a hand up to his forehead and suddenly looked every one of his two hundred and forty seven years.  Or he just looked faint.  "I will award a special award for special people who are awarded with special awards and name this story after whichever character can trace the odor to its origin and stop it!"

Harry was on his feet in an instant.  "But the story's named after me.  It always is.  You can't have a book in a Harry Potter series without Harry Potter."

Dumbledore looked grave.  He reached around to the back of his head and opened the control panel on his neck.  He flipped the Twinkle switch to Off and the fire in his sparkling pupils died.  "I'm afraid the reader's ratings have left you behind.  You're no longer the favorite character."

"That's Daniel Radcliffe's fault.  I'm much cuter in real life!  Er, that is, in fiction."

"I'm afraid not, my child.  The readers are sick of your angsty teenage-mongering.  So!"  He addressed the entire hall again.  "Whoever finds the origin of this odious odor will win their house 1,294 points, and will be featured on the front cover of The Daily Potter.  And, of course, the next book will be named after them."  He flipped his Twinkle switch back on and sat down merrily to a breakfast of baloney.

"You know what this means?" Harry said to Hermione, leaning forward intently.

"I should find out the mystery on my own and then have the book named after me and rip your body open with a knife if you try, once again, to steal the fame that I deserve?" Hermione asked.

"No."

"What then?"

"We should figure this out.  Together.  I'll be the spokesperson and take all the credit."

"Great, I'll be the typical subservient female and do the brunt of the research and organizational aspects of the adventure," Hermione offered.

"Hey, I'll come along to fill in Don's missing spot," Ginny offered.

"What can you do for us?" Hermione asked, giving Ginny an application form to fill out.

"Well, I've been practicing all summer and I've finally perfected the art of standing around and looking stupid."  She made her face completely blank and stared at Hermione.  A few micro expressions of confusions passed over her, but she contained her bewildered expression.

"My, you have been practicing.  You have it down perfect!  But who will fill in your part?"

"Can I?" Neville asked.  They ignored him.

Ginny shrugged.  "I can do both for now."  She winked and reached out to pinch Hermione's butt.

Hermione squealed and jumped.  "What are you doing?"

Ginny looked hurt.  "Isn't that from cannon?  I'm Don now, remember?"

Hermione looked around conspiratorially and saw that only half the table was watching her.  "Meet me later," she whispered.  Ginny winked and hiked up her skirt past her knees.

"I'm leaving now," Harry announced loudly.

"Why?" Hermione asked.

"So I can wander around by myself and have some angsty moments of self-doubt and then meet up with Malfoy to exchange tantalizingly suggestive derogatory comments."

"Alright, have fun then," Hermione said, turning back to her oatmeal.

*          *          *          *          *

Harry wandered through the hall, bemoaning his pitiful situation, when he suddenly turned the corner to find that Draco Mafloy had been placed there (quite conveniently) by the author.

"Hello Potty!" Malfoy said scathingly.  "Has your scar muddled your brain so much that you can't tell your way around any more?"

Harry looked around and suddenly noticed he had been transported far away from the Fat Hall.  Harry was silent.  Draco was silent.  "I think it's your line," Harry said suddenly.

Draco tilted his head, making his blond bangs fall sexily in his eyes.  "I thought so, but I couldn't remember how it started."

"Something about having a crush on me since the first time you saw me on Diagon Alley?"

"Yes, there's that.  But something led up to it."

"Aren't you supposed to dance?"

"No that's later.  Let's see, it's something, something, something... and then I say, 'Love is a many splendored thing, love lift us up where we belong! All you need is love!'  See, it's a bit disjointed."

Harry nodded.  "That's okay, go on."

"It's your turn."

"Wha-oh!"  He recited his lines calmly, in a slight falsetto.  "Please don't start that again."

Draco sang softly, "All you need is love..."

Harry fluffed his hair.  "A girl has got to eat."

"All you need is love..."

"She'll end up on the street."

"All you need is loooo-ah-ove!" Draco crooned.  Fangirls everywhere across the nation swooned and collapsed into a panting frenzy.

"Love is just a game," Harry said in a monotone.

"Poor boy," Neville murmured, who was watching the exchange anxiously from his hiding spot behind a flatulent suit of armor.

"I was meant for loving you baby, you were meant for loving me!"  Draco stopped singing for a second.  "Oh, how I long to see you everyday.  I can't even bear the ride to Hogwarts without seeking out your illustrious compartment and exchange verbal flirtations with you, my love!"

Harry sniffed.  "The only way you're loving me baby, is if you pay a lovely fee."

Draco's eyebrows rose as his hand went instantly into his pocket.  He started counting out galleons.  "Just one night, give me just one night!"

"There's no way, 'cause you can't pay..."  Harry was getting into the swing of things and singing in falsetto now. 

"But I can!" Draco shouted, shoving a fistful of galleons down the front of Harry's pants.

"Just go with the script," Harry said hotly.  "But do that again first.  It feels good.  Nice and cool." 

Draco gave him more money and continued singing.  "In the name of love, one night in the name of love..."

"You crazy fool, I won't give into you..."  Harry was eying Draco.  "Damn this script," he muttered.

"I feel you, man, I so feel you," Neville muttered, covering his nose from the most recent bout of flatulence expelled from the armor into his face.

Draco and Harry held hands and gazed longingly into each other's eyes.  Green met gray.  Draco sang, "We could be heroes, just for one day!"

"You..."  He waited for the music.  "You will be mean."

"No, I won't!"

"And I..."  He waited again.  "I'll drink all the time."

Draco had had enough.  He belted out, full vibrato, "We should be lovers!"

"We can't do that," Harry half-sang.

"We should be loo-ah-ooversAnd that's a fact!"

"Though nothing will keep us together..."

"Blah, blah, blah...Just because I will always love you..."

"I can't help loving..."

"You..."

Draco smiled and pulled Harry closer.  "How wonderful life is..."

They sang together, melting in each other's eyes.  "Now you're in the world!"  They continued to melt into a pile of slush on the floor.

McGonagall turned the corner and saw Draco embracing Harry.  "No!" she shouted.  She tore off her wig and clothes, showing that she was actually Alan Rickman, cast as the wrong part, and jumped out the window in despair.  He shouted as he fell "I always loved you Dra-"  His shout was cut short when his brains splattered all over Dumbledore's new Convertible, which was parked several floors below.  Draco and Harry continued to fondle each other.  They slowly melted, like wax, until there was nothing left on the floor but a green and maroon and black and some other-colored puddle.

"Ah, ha!" Neville exclaimed, jumping out from his hiding place.  He grabbed Harry's robe from the melted Harry on the floor and put it on.  A few button popped at the waist, and the arms tore off, but he managed to squeeze into it.  "I'm now Harry Potter!"  He took out a knife and pressed it into his head to give himself the characteristic lightening bolt scar.  Unfortunately, it went in too far and got stuck.  "Damn this scar," he said, trying to make his voice as whiny as Harry's.  He grinned and made his way to his first class.

Potions.

*          *          *          *

[That's all folks-]

"You can't cut the chapter short!" Hermione shouted from her seat in the front row of Potions class.

[But I don't feel like writing anymore.]

"You're just cheating the audience and yourself.  Besides, I want a chance to show off how smart I am for reading and memorizing all the books during the first week of summer vacation."

[Fine, fine...but make it quick.]

Snape entered the classroom, his robes billowing bat-like behind him.   He noted that the Dream Team was sitting in the front row, and that Draco was liquefied and had to be carried around in a jar.  In fact, the Dream Team looked slightly off, too.  Hermione had breasts, which was strange enough, but Don was a bit too feminine (and was beginning to turn Snape on, but maybe it was just the tight skirt the boy was wearing), and Harry was suddenly fat and had cut off all his hair and dyed it light brown, and there was a knife sticking out his forehead.  It was probably a contrived plea for attention.  "Kids these days," he chuckled to himself as he stood facing away from the class, getting into character.

He turned once he had pasted the traditional snarl on his face.  "Today we will be brewing a difficult potion by the name of Doo-doo-Poo-poo."

"Professor!  Professor!" Hermione said frantically, waving her hand in the air.

"I don't believe I asked for you to grace the class with the pleasure of your knowledge, whore," Snape snapped.

"What did you call me?" asked a flabbergasted Hermione.

"Nothing," Snape said quickly.  "Continue on."

"Redundant," muttered Hermione.  "Anyway, I think the correct pronunciation is Doudieau-Poughpeau."

Snape glared at her.  She glared back.  He glared back at her.  She glared in return.  Ginny hiked up her skirt higher and both Hermione and Snape turned their attention elsewhere.  "You were saying, Professor?" asked a breathless Hermione.

"Oh, yes," he said.  He reached up to straighten his tie, only to realize he didn't wear one.  But his robes were still rather black and sexy, he noted with pleasure.  "The potion will cause the drinker to reveal their true feelings!  It will cause them to tell the class what they really want to be doing in life."  Evil sounding music played in the background.

"Easy enough for me to figure out," muttered Goyle, as he turned back to the poem he was writing.  "Hey, Pansy, what rhymes with foliation?"

"Elimination?" she suggested.

"He's going to make me drink, I just know he's going to make me drink," Neville said anxiously under his breath.  So far no one had noticed that there was a knife sticking out of his forehead.  Maybe they were used to such antics with Harry.

They brewed the potion.  Nothing exciting happened.

When they were almost done, Snape carefully explained the procedure for bottling the potion.  "You must stir it twice to the left, twice to the right, shake it baby, shake it, and then bottle it according to PLA, that is to say, Potions Lab Associates, standard procedures.  If you accidentally stir it to the right before stirring to the left, then it may blow up and cover the face of whoever is standing next to you, just as I am currently standing in close proximity to Mr. Potter.  Were he to stir it to the right first, it would surely blow up in my face and I would end up embarrassing myself while amusing the class by admitting my true feelings about life.  But fortunately, Mr. Potter is smart enough to stir the correct way, which is – which way, Mr. Potter?"

Neville jumped when he realized that Snape had been talking to him.  Man, I need to get fully in character here, he chided himself.  He tried to guess, "Left?"

"Right!" Snape exclaimed, thoroughly annoyed that he hadn't been able to take off points for his hated-student-enemy-just-recently-turned-son's ignorance.

Poor Neville, thinking Snape was instructing him instead of congratulating him, promptly stirred the potion to the right first, causing it to blow up and hit the Potions Master in the face.

"Ahhh!" Snape screamed, grabbing at his eyes.  "Next I'm going to be eviscerated by a dinosaur during a rainstorm!"

"Wrong movie, dude," Dean corrected him.

Snape straightened and wiped the goo out of his eyes.  "In that case, I'm going to..."  His eyes suddenly lit up.  "...dance!"  In one smooth motion, he ripped off his clothes and stripped down to the hot pink thong he was wearing underneath.  He started belly-dancing as Seamus rubbed glittery oil on his muscular body.  The class cheered and threw a couple knuts and the occasional galleon at him.  "Let's dance, kids!"

He sang:
 
To the beat of the rhythm of the night 
Dance until the morning light
Forget about the worries on your mind
We can leave them all behind
To the beat of the rhythm of the night..
Oh the rhythm of the night...we can leave them all behind...
 
Oh rhythm... wanna feel the rhythm    
 
A group of fat ladies in brightly colored dresses burst through the doorway and started doing the can-can.  One of them stood on a desk while hiking up her skirt to reveal her voluminous underpanties and sang:
 
Where's all my souls sisters?
Let me hear y'all flow sisters
 
Hey sister, go sister, soul sister, flow sister
Hey sister, go sister, soul sister, flow sister
 
Ginny jumped onto the desk next to her and joined in:
 
Gitchie, gitchie, ya ya da da 
Gitchie, gitchie, ya ya here 
Mocha Chocolata ya ya
Creole Lady Marmalade
 
Hermione stood up.  "Listen, this isn't a Moulin Rouge fanfic, this is a Harry Potter fanfic."
 
"Yeah," Neville said, disappointed that the plot wasn't centering on him like he thought it would once he had adopted Harry's persona.  "In fact, this whole chapter sucks.  Let's just start over again tomorrow, shall we?"
 
The students groaned in disappointment.  The fat ladies started to leave and the students dancing half-naked with Snape started to disperse and put back on their clothes.  
 
"Okay, you can end the chapter now," Hermione advised.  "This whole story is going downhill."  Her breasts grew two more inches.  "No, I meant to say I love this story!"  Her chest shrank.  She breathed a sigh of relief.
 
"Going downhill?  I thought it started there," muttered a third year Hufflepuff who was hiding in a cabinet in the back of the classroom.  She was promptly eaten by a boggart.
 
They left the Potions classroom, Snape with a lot of tips and the students with a mind-boggling dread in their hearts of what the next chapter would bring...
 
*             *             *             *             
 
[A/N: My, my, that wasn't too bad...
 
Thanks to everyone who reviewed.  I've decided not to write another chapter until I receive 1,294 reviews.]
 
"Yes, no more chapters!" Hermione cheered.
 
[Okay, I changed my mind.]
 
"But it was a good way to make fun of authors who say they won't write more until people review ten times," Hermione noted.
 
[Why thank you.]
 
Hermione's breasts shrunk until they were almost normal size.  
 
"Do you have an obsession with breasts?" Neville asked, annoyed that he still wasn't the center of attention.  Neville promptly grew breasts.  Unfortunately, he was so fat that they just disappeared into his flubber.  He smirked and, with a bark, scampered down the corridor on all fours.
 
[And thus the chapter ended. 
 
Thank Merlin!]