Disclaimer: If I was JK Rowling, I would be selling this for huge profit, rather than posting it on the internet for free; therefore, it is safe to assume that we just have far too much time on our hands or really bad marketing skills.

The Departure of Dumbledore

Harry felt like he was walking on air. This may or may not have had something to with the fact that he had no idea that at that very moment, Lord Voldemort, the most powerful dark wizard of all time, was watching his antics throughout his 7th year, although, of course, every action and word had been mutilated beyond recognition by misplaced director's input and even worse acting on the part of certain people. But we can forgive Ron, because his name is Rupert, and, after all, bears in tweed trousers shouldn't be expected to act well.

However, the more likely cause was that some of the girls who Harry had previously surprised in the girls' toilets while "looking for Myrtle" had wanted vengeance. Harry was so enamoured by Myrtle's ravishing beauty (round glasses and bunches make a brilliant combination...yeah...) and sparkling wit (hmmm...I'll get back to you on that (unless I forget or can't find you)) that he had failed to notice them creep up on him and cast a levitation charm. However, even after Madame Pomfrey had disabled the spell so Harry could actually go through doorways, he was still feeling excessively elated.

Harry's timely relationship with Myrtle proved extremely useful. Hermione was busy competing with Lavender and Parvati for the illustrious title of Hogwarts Flirt of the Year. Ron was killing brain cells by taking as many drugs as he could get his hands on; this often involved robbing the richer members of the school to buy the aforementioned drugs. The alternative activity which Ron was favouring was attempting to commit suicide due to overwhelming depression. All of this meant that Harry could spend more time with his new significant other.

This is very beneficial to the author, if not the continuation of this plot, because it meant Harry had no spare time in which to have significant adventures so the author does not have to record anything.

In fact, as Hermione has already had her epiphany, Harry doesn't have to do anything except ask Hermione what on earth's going on at the end of the year. And perhaps get in touch with his manager and have a word about incompetent authors being given free reign.

Not that Harry had a manager, or knew that there were random girls writing stories about him. After all, he was in love and therefore couldn't possibly notice anything but his One True Love.

So... That leaves us with nothing better to do than sit her twiddling our thumbs.

Twiddle, twiddle, twiddle.

Twiddle.

...

On the other hand, we could always check out what's happening in one of Harry's classes. How about...potions!

A familiar scene was replaying itself in the Dungeons where Slytherin and Gryffindor 7th years should have been learning how to brew potions rather than taking abuse from the potions master.

Or, as was happening on this occasion, waiting outside because Snape was apparently 'still preparing' for their upcoming lesson.

"What could he possibly be doing in there?" asked Dean loudly. All heads turned towards Hermione.

"What are you looking at me for?" she asked, as Goyle gave her a love bite.

Beside Harry, Ron injected some Heroine. By rights, only Heroes where allowed to take such a powerful stimulant. However, Harry's infatuation with Myrtle meant Ron had been able to steal some without Harry noticing.

"Why won't she tell us?" Parvati asked Lavender.

"Maybe she doesn't know," Lavender replied.

The two girls stole another glance at Hermione.

"No. Hermione knows EVERYTHING," Ron interrupted proudly and then burst into tears as he saw what she was doing with Goyle.

"Maybe she's protecting him."

"Why?"

Lavender looked at Parvati. "There's only one possible reason."

"No!" exclaimed Parvati, unable to believe that Hermione of all people would...the idea was preposterous. She took another look at Hermione and Goyle. "Mind you," Parvati said thoughtfully, "She does have a thing for Slytherin guys."

Beside them, Ron was injecting his seventh dose. In his feverish, drugged up mind, he agreed with them. Perhaps it was because beneath Hermione's and Snape's apparent utter loathing for each other, there was...utter loathing... Perhaps not.

Inside the dark, dank classroom, Snape hastily put away the block of lard into his private Potions store. He glanced about the room to ensure that nobody knew of his terrible secret (except a small spider making its web in the corner of the room and Hermione (or so Snape thought – DUN DUN DUUUUN!!!!!)) before unlocking the door. The students poured in.

Snape checked his watch (or whatever the appropriate wizarding counterpart is) to discover that the lesson was starting five minutes late. Blast. That meant five minutes less in which he could terrorise Gryffindors. In that case, he had better start immediately.

"Longbottom," he sneered, "You would do well to remind yourself of school policy concerning the use of sticking charms against innocent young ladies."

The young lady in question, Fleur Delacour, stopped clinging to Neville momentarily in order to glare to full effect at Snape.

"Miss Delacour, forgive me. You are far from innocent," Snape amended silkily.

The rest of the class stared in amazement. What had happened to the Snape they knew and loathed? What he had just said was hardly terrifying material. This new Snape was about as good at menacing as a fluffy bunny with the words 'BOO' written on its nose. As one, the class turned to look at Hermione. She looked up from snogging Goyle.

"What?"

Meanwhile, Neville had been busy pacifying Fleur. Harry, who for some reason could not get pink nighties and Pork Illustrated out of his mind, shook his head to clear it. (Watch Shrek 2 about six times (YAY!!!!!) and pay special attention to the first thing the wolf says.) Unfortunately, his gaze fell on Neville.

"[insert some random French here]" said the plump boy. Fleur's laugh rang out, like...well, as laugh. But a very suave, gentile one.

"Ron!" cried Harry as he elbowed his friend. "The whole world's gone mad!" But Ron had passed out, still clutching a near empty vial.

"Silence!" shouted Snape, as he cast silencio to make it look like the class was paying attention. "I have the innate ability to keep control of even the most rowdy class because I instil boundless terror into each and every heart." The class fell silent, as they thought of the boundless terror. Or at least stopped trying to make noise through the silencio charm.

"Better," he told the class. "But you still need to work on being scared witless by me. Prep tonight: spend half and hour contemplating how much I would enjoy watching you die and a foot of parchment on how my sadism far exceeds that of Mr. Filch."

"Now," Snape's voice was full of malice as he spun around to face Harry. "50 points from Gryffindor, Mr Potter."

"Why?" asked Harry, expecting to catch Snape out.

"For continuing to wear glasses. I briefly mentioned a potion that gave the drinker 20/20 vision to another teacher as I passed you in a corridor yesterday."

"Slimy git," Harry muttered to Ron. "Last year he took points off because I eavesdropped and now because I didn't." Ron groaned softly in what Harry decided must be agreement.

"You shall now make this very complicated potion. If you do even the slightest thing wrong, it shall go the wrong colour. Needless to say, any dunderhead whose potion is the wrong colour shall get instant detention."

The teenagers quickly got to work, following each instruction to the letter. Rumour had it that the last student to get a detention from Snape had been forced to cut Snape's hair. Ever since then, the student's work had been covered with grease that refused to be removed from the unfortunate student's fingers. Obviously, none of the other students were willing to share a similar fate.

At the end of the lesson, Harry was relieved to see that his potion, like almost everyone else's, was a light purple. The one exception was poor Neville. Snape was just approaching Neville's cauldron so he too could see that Neville's potion had turned...

"Orange, Longbottom?" Snape stared at the boy, one eye starting to twitch. "But it's supposed to be orange!"

Neville said something terribly cutting that showed off how intellectual he really was. Harry, however, was far too busy trying to keep the last frog in Ron's vial from escaping so he did not hear this comment so it cannot be recorded.

(Frogs are AMPHibians...try relating that to drugs... [insert 'amphetamines' cleverly disguised in a cough here])

Snape, meanwhile, collapsed in a gibbering wreck, no longer able to deal with this world with its upside-down values: Neville Longbottom (the author would like to point out that Neville has not transferred to Hufflepuff. The use of his last name was for clarification purposes only) succeeding in potions where Hermione Granger (same applies) had failed.

Harry watched in amazement as Snape was carted off to the hospital wing. "Well done, mate," he congratulated Neville, swinging an arm around his shoulders, "Got rid of Snape at last."

Neville looked pointedly at Harry's offending hand until it was removed before responding haughtily, "Yes. I am removing the unacceptable parts of this school one by one. Next to go shall be Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore?!" shouted Harry in surprise.

"Dumbledore?" shouted everyone within hearing distance, wondering what had got into Harry.

And so it went on. The camera zooms out until we can see thousands of very confused people shouting Dumbledore's name...

Let's get back to Harry.

"Yes, Dumbledore. I blame his endearing personality combined with his unusual fondness for Muggle sweets for my weight problem. If it hadn't been for someone who is such a role model liking them, I would never have started eating them in such vast quantities. As was recently pointed out to me, fat presents serious health problems. I owe it to future generations to rid Hogwarts of this obesity inducer."

"How are you planning to do that?" asked Harry.

"I thought I'd sue him. Not that I'm in it for the money or anything. Although it shall be most pleasant to think of Dumbledore starving on the streets while I'm living it up in my French villa with Fleur."

Harry shook his head at Neville's dastardly plot. "It'll never work. Dumbledore shall never truly leave Hogwarts."

A few weeks later, Dumbledore had packed up all of his remaining belongings. It hadn't taken long; he's had to sell quite a bit in order to pay Neville. Before he went, he took Harry aside for some last words. Harry wasn't really paying attention because his beloved Myrtle had asked him to meet her in her bathroom. She had 'something to show him' apparently.

"Harry, you're on your own. Try not to screw it up," Dumbledore advised.

Harry continued to grin inanely, his eyes slowly glazing over.

Dumbledore muttered something about how they were all doomed and stormed off.

Harry ran off to meet his love.

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Ahem. And you were wondering what was so bad about Bernard's threat two chapters ago. I would like to blame the unbelievably long time it took to write this on my Spanish friend who came over on exchange. While she was here, it was obviously completely impossible to write anything, or even get on the internet at all. We were far too busy watching all the children's films in our house over and over again. (What? It was raining – what a surprise, rain in Devon – and although I did attempt to make her watch the Importance of Being Earnest, films like the Lion King were far easier for her to understand.) Anyway. I would like to blame the excessive amount of references in this chapter on her as well. Because I can. Heh heh heh.

Remember – REVIEW! Tell me to stop taking all those drugs etc etc. And tell me how many references you could find!!!!!

YAY!!!!!

...I am perfectly normal in every way...