TO ALL THOSE UNFORTUNATE SCHMUCKS WHO WILL READ THIS LATEST INSTALLMENT IN MY FANFICTION: Thank you sooo much for the wonderful reviews! I was absolutely FLOORED when I saw that I had reviews today. I read them, and they made me cry! I was certain that FF.net was going to pull this FF for taking up space. *sniff* You guys are so great, thank you for taking the time to read it and post such wonderful reviews! I love you all and I hope this next chapter doesn't disappoint...I wrote it immediately after seeing that you guys are actually reading my demented, incoherent babbling, and thought it was funny! Thank you so much, everybody!
Ron stared glumly out of the window in the hospital wing. It was raining. It always rains in literature whenever the character the author is focused on is glumly staring out of a window. This fanfiction is no different and you will find many little gems of unoriginal cliches.
The noise in the earlier Potions class at the fainting of Harry had alerted Dumbledore, who jerked out of his hazy meditations to push his beaded curtains aside and rush down to see if there was a better party for him to get in on. Unfortunately, the stale stench of many rotted, bottled small animals (much like the moose described in the opening credits of "Monty Python and the Holy Grail") had sobered him up, in a hurry. He remembered he had left his pipe smoking and had ordered Ron to carry Harry up to the hospital wing. Apparently, Dumbledore thought he had conjured a large, hairy camel to aid Ron and scampered off before his Celtic tapestries could catch alight. Ron was forced to help a tipsy Lockhart (anyone can see the resemblance between a drunken Gilderoy and a large hairy camel, even if they ARE sober) carry Harry up to the wing.
Now Ron was stuck hanging out in the hospital wing, as was his duty as a "friend."
"Ooh!! Looky there!!! Its a pink dragon wearing a three-piece suit and a large straw boater!" Lockhart squealed from his seat in the corner. Ron turned wearily to see Madam Pomfrey tie Lockhart's arms and legs to the chair. Lockhart began rocking back and forth in a rhythmic manner, humming "Sex and Candy" and flashing charming, drunken smiles at the "dragon." Ron rolled his eyes as he saw the "dragon" was actually a rotten banana on the ground covered in some funky neon green fungus and dressed up in a Barbie Prom Night gown.
"Natty threads! Who's ya tailor, who's ya tailor?" Lockhart began to scream, rocking back and forth violently. Ron stared angrily at the convulsing ex-professor, and when Madam Pomfrey didn't appear to give Lockhart another enema, Ron walked over and hit Lockhart over the head with a very large, blunt object.
Lockhart crumpled in a heap and began to gnaw at Ron's shoelaces.
"What are you doing?!" Ron hollered, backing away quickly from the ex-professor, his shoes squelching with large amount of drool already.
Parvati Patil was walking by just then, and, seeing Ron's predicament, walked in, kicked Lockhart, hard, and left, going about her business. Lockhart groaned, his eyes crossed and rolled back in his head as he began to sing in a tenor, "Jingle Bells," his cheek and foot twitching in time together.
Parvati came back in and kicked Lockhart hard again. He switched to a deep bass "The Devil Went Down to Georgia." She kicked him again. With each blow, Lockhart changed songs and tones. Ron joined in on the kicking and soon the had their own little party mix going.
But it was too much for Lockhart. His head began to spin around on his shoulders and exploded. Parvati and Ron shrieked as they dove for cover, but were still splattered with chocolate pudding.
An ominously-hummed rendition of the "Mission: Impossible" theme accompanied sly, stealthy, footsteps to the hospital wing door. There was a short pause, and the humming turned to an Irish jig, and Snape came river dancing into the room.
"Naughty naughty," Snaped tsk-tsked as he surveyed the mess. "I always knew Lockhart wasn't banana pudding, deep down."
Parvati fainted with joy at seeing her sexy professor, and Ron hid his eyes from the traumatizing sight of seeing Snape hike up his robes and do the can-can.
Filch came wheezing in the room shortly after Snape, glaring around at the mess. His eyes bugged out and rolled, bouncing across the pudding splattered floor. Mrs. Norris scampered into the room and ate them. Filch ran blindly into the hall, cursing his cat, and was impaled on a suit of armor's pointy shoe.
"Well, that takes care of that," Snape said, peeking out into the hall and watching Filch spurt grape juice on the floor. "Glory be. Now, you two will have to clean this mess up, and then when you're done, come down to the dungeons, I need you to lick my boots, and then I need one of you to redo my manicure, its getting--"
Snape eyes widened as he realized what he said. "I mean--Weasley, bedpan duty! Patil! Umm.....take this down to the morgue!" He kicked Lockhart's body, causing a stream of chocolate pudding to leap into the air.
"Morgue, sir?" Parvati asked groggily, as she had just came to from her fainting by Ron's insistent flicking.
"Yes, yes the morgue. You didn't think you ate REAL beef all the time did you?" Snape sneered. "With that cheapskate Dumbledore in charge? No no, we keep a healthy stock of dead bodies down there....mostly small, furry animals that happen to wander into the castle--"
Hermione sat bolt upright on her bed. Ron groaned. Hermione, if you'll remember, was tranported up to the hospital wing after her run-in with the Face from The Weakest Link, after which she made several rude and ethnically-slandering remarks, causing her to be beaten savagely with a fluffy bunny slipper. Hermione turned to Snape.
"You--we eat small furry animals here?" she demanded.
"Yes. Sometimes we form elaborate plots to lure students to secluded areas of the castle so we can kill them and put them in the morgue...unfortunately, Potter ruined our Chamber of Secrets scenario...now we have a mob of hitmen called 'The Order of the Phoenix,' and if Potter messes this one up like he did in Operation Triwizard Tournament...that was going to be a big haul, I can tell you that."
"You mean, had Harry not rescued her from the Chamber of Secrets, Ginny would be in the morgue?" Ron asked breathlessly.
"That is exactly what I mean, Weasley. In the morgue and in less than 10 years, in your Soup Surprise."
Ron stared at Harry. No one knew just what he was thinking, despite the big neon sign on his forehead flashing "Anger," "Rage," and "Masochism." With a scream he hurled himself on Harry's bed and began to beat him senseless with a paper cup. Snape nonchalantly slipped a carrot from his sleeve onto Harry's bedside table. Parvati stared at him.
"I'm sure Weasley will find some fun uses for it later," Snape said, winking.
"Professor!" Hermione yelled over the din of Ron punching Harry in the head and the squeak that proceeded each blow. She was getting extremely irate at not being in the center of attention. "This school could be reported for animal cruelty! The Muggles have organizations, PEDA and FEDA, and I'm sure they'd be MORE than happy to investigate!"
The whole castle began to shake and boom as everyone became aware that Hagrid was running up to join them. Snape rolled his eyes. "Oh, great, enter the tree-hugger. The Jolly Green Giant himself."
Hagrid appeared in the doorway, breathing heavily. He tried to enter and got stuck. Hermione jumped up and grabbed Hagrid's thumb in both hands and pulled. A loud squawk made her drop his finger in surprise.
"Bloody bugger, yeh popped meh knuckle!" Hagrid dangled the disjointed finger from his hand, shaking it vigorously, grinning as it flopped limply around. He moved his other hand over in front of him with much difficulty and attempted to shove his thumb back in place. A loud DING told everyone his thumb was broken.
"Ah well, never much liked it anyhow," Hagrid shrugged, lifting all the walls around them briefly with his shoulders. He wrenched his thumb off and, looking around at the mess, tossed it on Lockhart's body. His thumb gave a little trill of joy and began to run across the corpse lapping up the chocolate pudding.
"Nah," Hagrid said, resigning himself to his now permanent station stuck in the doorway. "What's this I was hearing about PEDA and FEDA?"
"Hagrid!" Hermione wailed in that annoying Hermione way. "They eat small, interesting, furry animals here! We have to do something!"
"Yeh're righ'," Hagrid said, and sank into deep thought. His face convulsed and he made many painful sounds. Snape whacked him across the shoulder.
"Don't hurt yourself, man," he said, hitting him a few extra times just for the fun of it. When Hagrid sinks into thought, its a very painful process for him. His shrink says one day he'll sink down into thought and never come back.
JK Rowling peered around the door. "Hey! What are you doing? None of my characters are neurotic! They are all politically and socially correct! Harry is the stupid, spastic, chronically ill boy from a dysfunctional family; Ron is the transvestite--" Ron looked astounded at the news. "Sorry, Ron, Warner Bros wanted you to come out. They also want the truth that Dumbledore gets drunk five times a day and moonlights as Jerry Springer known. Hagrid, your history of indecently using goats and sheep has been publicly announced. Hermione, Warner Bros has made common knowledge of your anal-retentive tendencies and your sexual frustrations. Parvati, you don't have a big part in the books anyway, and Warner Bros cut you from the movie, so they want you out all together. You'll have to come with me."
Parvati followed the authoress glumly. Rain lashed at the windows. Snape stopped Ms. Rowling before she left.
"What about me, Ms. Rowling? What bomb must I deal with?" he asked.
"You, Severus? You are the man behind every good thing that has happened in the books. You keep Hogwarts together. You are the most noble, selfless, brave, loyal, and sexy character in the whole of the series! You're getting your very own TV show and miniseries next fall. Warner Bros loves you!" She left with he hand twitching convulsively on Parvati's shoulder.
"Aha," Snape stared triumphantly at the rest of the devastated gathering. "I'm safe."
"It was obvious when they wanted Alan Rickman to play you in the movie they liked you," Hermione muttered. She turned to Hagrid, face still burning that all should know her deep dark secrets. "What can we do about the small furry animal situation?"
"Well, I've already though' abou' it," Hagrid said importantly. "I will...lash meself, or wedge meself, in a area o' high traffic to protest the cruelty to ther animals!"
"Hagrid...you--you've already done that," Hermione pointed out.
Hagrid glanced down at his predicament. "Uhh, yeah. See? Tole yeh I figgered it out already."
Ron had long since ceased beating Harry with the paper cup. At that precise moment, Harry woke up and began to scream and fend off his attacker, who was sitting dejectedly on top of him, thinking of all the lies his parents and society had heaped on him in his childhood, which he had just discovered, was spent as a girl. Ron was in no mood to deal with Harry and his Carrot Syndrome as Harry began to scream and writhe with less strength than a mentally retarded gnat. Ron spied the carrot on the bedside table and snatched it up, breaking it in half and eating it quickly. Harry screamed and fell over on the floor, and crawled frantically for the exit, which was blocked by Hagrid. Harry whirled and began to slide uncontrollably over the slippery, pudding-covered floor, screaming all the more at the sight of Lockhart's decapitated body.
Everyone watched bemusedly as Harry ran in small circles, screaming like a terrified spider monkey. Harry finally crawled, covered in pudding, over to the window (which was still being lashed at with the stereotypical rain) and desperately yanked it open. A wet hand reached up and hauled Harry out, who fell screaming to the ground several floors down.
The onlookers continued to onlook with renewed interest to see who their savior was. Hans Gruber climbed up, soaking wet but still so very hot and sexy, and was greeted by raucous applause (Hans Gruber, if you'll remember, was knocked out of a window by the Sheriff of Nottingham, but all is well becuase Hans is still alive and I daresay as good-looking as ever). The rain ceased and the sun came up quickly, which is an example of the literary device of using the weather to reflect the characters' moods and which never happens in real life. I mean, when I'm happy, then the sky clouds over and dumps buckets of water on my head, forcing me to run to the nearest and tallest tree with no cover but a piece of sheet metal to take refuge. Then I'm struck by lightning and then I'm pissed off, because of the weather, but the weather doesn't reflect my mood. And when it's sunny outside---
HANS GRUBER: Mr. Takagi, I'm really not interested in the effects of literary device and the discrepancy between literature and real life. But I need this fanfiction because I am interested in the $640 million dollars in negotiable bearer bonds that you have locked in your vault--
Hans....wrong piece of work here.
HANS GRUBER: Of course...sorry.
Anyway, moving along, Hans was received with great joy and the sun came out and baked the large pile of mud Harry landed in into a large brick into which he was encrusted, like some hideous ruby on a really crappy piece of jewelry. Everyone went down to the Great Hall to celebrate the temporary imprisonment that could last anywhere from 5 minutes to 5 months, depending on the intelligence of the imprisoned and the anxiety of the imprisoned's friends and/or acquaintances to free the said imprisoned. Sadly (or happily, as those in this ff would say), in Harry's case, it looks as though he will be stuck in the hardened pile of mud for quite a while.
The feast was delicious, and Hermione had to bring up plates of the Soup Surprise (apparently they eat soup on plates in the UK, I don't know) to Hagrid, forgetting that it was made entirely of small, hapless furry animals and the more of the dim-witted student population. The Great Hall's ceiling was a beautiful, clear, starry night to them all, except for Dumbledore, who, coming down to the feast in large rose sunglasses and a Bob Marley t-shirt, which had an interesting, kind of sweet odor about it, saw many prophetic visions of biblical proportions in the linoleum tiles.