Title: From PoA to PoRN (PROLOGUE)

Author Name: SpongeBob (AKA The Collective Mind of Jayde and Sirena Lupin)

Author E-Mail: iloveseverus@yahoo.com

Summary: When Emily Finch's dad, gaffer extraordinaire on the Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban set, finds his daughter reading a disturbing fanfiction on the Internet, he starts a chain reaction of events that bring the authors -- and their minds -- to the set.  JKR wants them to make a great film, but they have a deadline:  The movie must still be out by June 4, 2003.  Can they do it?  Will they kill someone in the process?  Will Jayde ever really get her H/D? (the answers are yes, yes, and no, but not in that order.)

Rating: R/NC-17?

Category: Humour/Parody

Warnings: Slash, het, cross-gen het, cross-gen slash, allusions to incest, teens perving on men old enough to be their (grand)fathers, Slash, crude language, crude humour, sexuality, chains and whips (and not that way!), Slash, naked boys, naked girls, naked household pets, naked wild animals, and the all too often use of the phrase "y tú mama, tambien."  THIS FIC INCLUDES REAL PEOPLE.  Wh00t.

Archive: Here, there, and anywhere on request

Author's Notes:  Well, we promised we'd write it, didn't we?  The beginning portion of this wondrous fic written at some very obscene hour of the morning with very obscene thoughts in Jayde and Sirena's heads.  The rest of this fic will be written via e-mail, because dear Sirena's going off to Finland.  Because of that, frequent updates aren't, er, planned.  Also, due to the rating and content of this fic, we can't post it to FA (isn't that sad?).  It will, however, be on FF.n as well as several yahoo groups.

DISCLAIMER:  This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  Additionally, this fic uses the names of real people in the credits of the Harry Potter movies (and not just stars, too!).  We do not know these people.  We merely used their names to add a depth to the fic, because if a movie set just had actors and no gaffers, there would be no movie.  Props to Warner and all the people who made the two (three?) movies possible.  We don't mean no harm!

From PoA To PoRN By SpongeBob

 SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1Twelve year-old Emily Finch sat at her computer, wide-eyed and giggling, when the urge to shower popped into her mind.  Not bothering to close the Internet Explorer window of fanfiction, she nanced about to the shower where she had an invigorating experience washing her hair with Herbal Essences.

All would have remained well except that her father, Chuck Finch, gaffer extraordinaire, pranced into the computer room and spotted the open window.  His eyes caught the phrase "No... NO! SEVERUS SNAPE, DO NOT TOUCH ME THERE!"

'Severus Snape... but Alan...' he thought, puzzled.  In confusion, he decided there was only one way to find out what was going on.  To read the fic from beginning to end...

***

"I'm telling you," Chuck told Greg Powell the next day, "it was insane! Alan...  He was in a towel, mate.  A pink towel!"

Greg looked up from his Caesar salad.  "Alan?  It was about Alan?"

Chuck shook his head.  "Nah," he said, "his character though.  That Snap fellow."

"You mean Snape?"

"Yeah, him," Chuck replied.  He waved a hand dismissively.  "It's not the name that matters, anyways," he said.  "It was what he was doing."

Greg speared a piece of lettuce and looked up at Chuck, curious.  "What could he have possibly been doing?  I mean, it's a children's novel, Chuck!  Not a porn!"

"It was like a porn," Chuck whispered.  "I mean, it wasn't just his wand that he was shaking about the room!"

Greg arched an eyebrow and shoved the salad into his mouth.  "Lemme see that link, would you?" he said around a mouthful of food.  Chuck slid a piece of paper across the table and Greg pocketed it with the hand not busy shovelling food into his mouth.

'I'll check it out when I get home,' he promised himself silently, 'and see what's got old Chuck all up in arms.'

***

Check it out, Greg did.  And the next day he was back at work, annoying Laya Arman in just about the same manner that Chuck had bothered him.

 "Read it!" he urged, poking her in the shoulder as a small child would

"What, just so I can blush and lose eye-contact every time I see Alan? I think not."

He looked her in the eye. "It's worth it."

She rolled her eyes and shoved the print-out into her folder. "Whatever."

***

"Chuck and Greg already told me, Laya. Don't you start too... I don't want to know about it..."

"Mike... I'm TELLING you... this changed my life," she said, clutching the battered computer paper.

Michael Barnathan downed another glass of Southern Comfort in one rather ungraceful gulp. "Bloody 'ell, just hand it over then... Spiffy and pink, you say?"

***

"Alan... Alan? Alan!" Mike said, banging furiously on the door to Alan Rickman's trailer.

"Oh, what the bloody fuck is it now?" Alan grumbled, pulling open the door and revealing himself in a fluffy white bathrobe with matching slippers.

Mike developed an odd sort of eye twitch. "Something.... something you should see..." he muttered, tossing a few papers into the hands of the bewildered actor.

***

'... his appendages squirmed in anticipation' Alan read. "What in the name of codfish...."

His brow furrowed in concentration as her read the pages the executive producer had thrust at him.

"MADONNA? Honestly..."

"...spiffy?......PINK? Why on EARTH have they taken my trousers?"

"...humping?! Molestation of...."

"Oh GOD! Dumbledore in the nude and..."

Noises such as this flowed freely from Alan's trailer until he finished reading the literary work. At which point he knew there was only one person he could bring it to."

***

"...leave a message at the beep. Thanks and have a magical day"

"Hi Jo... it's Chris Columbus. I'm down at the set and... well... there's something that I think you should see..." he cleared his throat nervously. "Just... um... stop by when you get a chance... or... well... As soon as humanly possible, actually..."

At that point, J. K. Rowling ended her wild sex romp and put on her clothes. To the movie set she went.

***

"No, Jo!  Really!"

Jo sighed and turned around.  "Chris," she said, "I was busy...  Writing the next book.  Yeah, that's what I was doing...  And you called me here to tell me about some crazy fans?  You think I don't know I have crazy fans?  You think I don't realise the Internet is littered with porn using my precious characters?"

"But..."  Chris grabbed Jo's right hand and fell to his knees.  "Please, Jo!  For me, if nothing else?"

The authoress pulled her hand away from Chris and rubbed her temples.  "I don't see what is so unique about these girls."

"They made Snape pink and spiffy, Jo."

Jo snatched the folder away from Chris.  "I much prefer nifty, Chris."

Chris looked at Jo.  "Jo," he said slowly, as if speaking to a child, "that man was spiffy and there was no denying it."

With a sigh, Jo Rowling fell into a chair and began to read.

***

"What do you mean, you can't track them down?" Jo screeched into the phone.

The man on the other side of the line pulled the phone away from his ear and cringed.  "Ms. Rowling...  They use aliases on the Internet.  We've no way of knowing their real names.  It seems they're called...  SpongeBob on this site your Gaffer gave us.  They use the names Jayde and Sirena Lupin when they post on the message board."

Jo growled from the other side of the room.  "I want you to find those girls, and find them now!  I don't care if it bloody well kills you!" she screamed, slamming the flip phone shut and hurling it at Chris Columbus, who barely ducked in time.  The phone smashed against the padded wall of the sound studio where Chris had brought Jo when she arrived.  "The nerve of those girls!" she cried.  "Where in the world could they come up with such a thing?"

"I think part of your problem, Jo," Chris said, "is that you believe all children are innocent.  There are some, like those two, who are so utterly corrupt, they spread their blackness onto others-"

Jo gave him a puzzled look.  "What're you talking about?" she asked him.  "I think what they did was bloody brilliant.  Very nervy, very shocking.  Very brilliant.  I want to talk to the studio, see if I can get those two over here as consultants to work with Alfonso."

Chris could do nothing but blink. 

***

B. S. Mann of AOL Time-Warner slowly pulled his glasses off and rubbed them on his shirt.  Five days ago, Jo Rowling had called the office, frantic.  She had told him she needed to have a word with him, and that she was coming into the country to have it.  Needless to say, Bihg was worried about what Jo had to say.  Last time they had met, she had threatened him with a blunt pencil because he hired Alfonso to direct a children's movie.

Of course, Alfonso and Jo were getting along just fine now.  But that didn't mean that Jo wasn't having a conniption over some line that just didn't sound right.  They had moral issues.

"Let me get this straight," he said as he slipped the glasses back over his eyes.  "You want us to hire two perverted sixteen year old girls to help Alfonso direct Azkaban?"

Jo looked at Bihg for a second, before lowering her eyes to the floor.  "Yeah," she said, "that's basically what I want."

"The studio has told Alfonso many, many times to keep his scene changes to PG, PG-13 material," Bihg continued.  "Jo, you've told us you don't want the films at higher than a PG-13 rating until the fifth one -- what's it called? --  Harry Potter and the Order of the Pizza?"

The authoress' head snapped up.  "Order of the Phoenix," Jo corrected him rather rudely.  "It's Order of the Phoenix, Bihg."

He waved his hand dismissively.  "Whatever it's called, it doesn't matter.   You said you wanted PG, PG-13, Jo.  Why did you suddenly decide that that wasn't good enough?"

A slight blush rushed to Jo's cheeks and she lowered her eyes again.  "A fanfic."

Bihg looked at Jo, dumbstruck.  "A fanfic?  A bleeding fanfic?  Those things the lawyers were trying to get rid of a few months ago?"

"The very same," Jo said, abashedly.  Her face brightened.  "But, Bihg..."  He pointed to the folder on the desk, "It's the most brilliant thing I've ever read in my life!  Snape!  Pink!  The word spiffy!"

Bihg thought that maybe it was because he wasn't British, but he didn't really get it.  "Jo?" he said, cautiously.  "Are you feeling alright?"

Jo's eyes widened.  "I'm feeling rather spiffy, Bihg.  Can I have my girls?  Please?  If I don't, I'll feel that threatening my lawyer and his assistants to find out there real names, addresses, and phone numbers would have been a great waste of time."

Although his mind was screaming stalker!, he politely ignored the annoying voice in his head, sighed, and picked up the folder.  "Sure, Jo.  You can have your girls.  But I still want the movie out by June fourth, and I still want you to keep it under an R.  PG-13 at the highest, OK?  Have Mike downstairs write up a contract.  I've got to run to the little boys room."

On his way to the toilet with Jo's folder in hand, Bihg wondered if he had made the wrong choice in letting Jo hire the girls.  He had a feeling in the pit of his stomach, and it wasn't really a good feeling.

***

"Wow, this was awesome!  You guys rock my sox!  Please, please write more!  I want to know what happens when Hermione finds Snape in the hallway!  And what is going on between Harry and Draco?  It's from a girl named Emily F., and she's not registered at FA."

Jayde Lupin turned away from the computer screen.  "She liked it, though.  That's about forty for and seven against, isn't it?"

Sirena barely glanced up from her laptop.  "Mmmhmm..." she muttered, and continued tapping on the keys. 

"What've you got so far?" Jayde asked, sliding her computer chair across the room and peering over Sirena's shoulder.

"Just a bit about Snape being stumbled upon.  Hermione's, er, admiring the view right now," Sirena giggled, a huge grin plastered across her face.

"Admiring the view?" Jayde boggled.  "Where do you find these phrases?"

Before Sirena had a chance to answer, however, the phone rang.

With a sharp look at the clock, which read 10:21 pm, she jumped up from the swivel chair she had stolen from her parent's computer room and leaped at the phone.  She knocked it off the hook and scrambled for it, trying to both turn it on and pick it up at the same time.

Needless to say, it didn't work very well.  She pressed the talk button on the cordless, but she couldn't seem to pick it up -- the damned thing kept bouncing across the bed away from her.

With a sigh, Sirena picked up the phone.  "Hello?"