Sniffle...I have decided to continue the story, even though I only got four reviews for the last chapter. I'm sure you'll all be good now and review, or else I'll have to give it up, and we don't want that, do we? Thanx very very mucho to the few people who actually reviewed: Jenny, my genius pal who introduced me to this place, Katya, AKA Kiesha Bodiesha, Scottyboi, Kalira, and Courtney. Thanx also to Lily the Looter, who reviewed Chappie the third and I kinda forgot to thank her (hehe...sorry...)

God, these are ticking me off, and I'm only on chapter five! Disclaimer: I don't own this stuff, or else I wouldn't be writing it here, would I, bright ones? Anyway, enjoy Chappie the Cinco.

Chapter Five: Good Ole Fashioned Halloween

Ever since Harry had won the Squidditch match, he'd become popular. No longer did people look on him as the nerdy schizo with taped glasses. Now they saw him as a nerdy shizo with taped glasses who had won them a Squidditch game. The Gryffindors loved him and the Slytherins hated him. Harry was slightly cheered and half forgot that the whole school was a sham with troughs and cots and that if Voldemort attacked they would all be dead as doornails. He once expressed his fears to Prissy, but all Prissy said was, "Everyone knows the only one You-know-who is afraid of is Nancy."

"Well, of course he's afraid of him, everyone is!" Harry muttered darkly. "Yesterday he yelled 'spigot' at me and I shit my pants."

"Oh, Harry, chum, don't worry about it! After all, Voldemort disappeared a decade ago and is probably never ever coming back. Never."

"But he has to! Or else I'll never be able to become a hero! Neverrrrrrrr!" Harry wailed. He would have kept on wailing but then the lunch bell rang and he hopped up and ran to the dining hall. "Food! Food!" He had developed a strange obsession with lima bean soup.

Halloween morning, Harry arose and donned his pirate costume. "Yarrrr, mateys! Avast ahoy she blows!" The costume came complete with a swashbuckling sword and Harry taped Betsy onto his shoulder instead of a parrot. When he came to breakfast, Ron said, "What are you wearing?" Coming from Ron, that said a lot.

"Der, my Halloween costume. Let's go and egg the school tonight."

Freddie and Jason sat down next to them. "Egg the school? But Harry, we don't egg the school," Jason said.

"We should at least go trick-or-treating!" Harry cried

"Har de har har har! Trick or treating? Harry, we don't do these American things. We do things like feast and make pumpkins fly."

Harry overturned the trough. "What's the matter with you people?! Feast? What are we, great lords of the twelfth century or something?!"

"Calm down, Harry. It's what wizards do," Freddie said amiably.

"WELL, MAYBE WIZARDS SUCK!" Harry roared, his face gone veiny and purple. Freddie frowned and unsheathed his claws. "You might wanna watch what you say about us, Harry," Freddie threatened. Jason nodded and they left.

Soon Harry came to grips with the fact that he would not be trick-or-treating that year. He still refused to take off his pirate costume. That evening at the feast, Nancy had prepared a special treat for them. Instead of lima bean soup, the students found rotten pumpkin mash in their troughs and pumpkin juice in their bottles. Jack o'lanterns with twisted, morbid faces carved by Professor Sprout floated above the troughs. Professor Sprout, missing one arm and three toes and wearing an eye-patch, sat at the Head Trough next to Nancy, who was acting festive by wearing bright orange robes and half a rotten jack o' lantern on his head. McGonagall's walkie-talkie was now orange and Rabid celebrated by eating twice the usual amount of manflesh. Snape, the she-nose on legs, was wearing black robes as usual. At least, that's what it seemed like to Harry, who could not see much of Snape other than her giant hooked nose.

"Stork!" Nancy cried in welcome. "Thank you all for attending our Halloween feast! We will have lots of fun tonight, children. I have a special surprise planned! Please welcome, straight from his mountain home, Monty the Entertaining Troll!"

The doors to the dining hall opened, but it was not a troll that came through them. It was a queasy guy in a turban that the author forgot about in the first chapter and therefore remains nameless. Harry thought he might have some classes with him, but he wasn't sure. "M-m-m-monty's g-g-g-g-gone c-c-c-c-c-crazy! I-I-I-I think he's b-b-been b-b-brainwashed!" the man stuttered. Everyone stared at him blankly, not understanding a word he said due to his stutter. He sighed in exasperation, and said very very slowly, "Monty's...gone...c-crazy...I think...h-he's been...b-brainwashed."

Nancy shrieked and jumped on McGonagall's head. Harry did likewise, except he jumped onto Ron's head which was closer and more convenient. "Eat me last, eat me last!" Nancy squealed as the stuttering man fainted in a feminine way and Rabid said proudly, "Great man, Nancy." McGonagall sighed, put out her cigarette, lit a new one, and said in a monotone voice, "Everybody calm down. Please go back to your houses till we get Monty under control. I assure you, there is no need to relax—I mean, panic."

As all the students panicked and ran to their houses shrieking, Harry's chest puffed up and he said with pride, "Finally, a chance to prove myself as the tragic hero I am!" He skipped gleefully toward the troll's dressing room, which was on the third floor near a certain corridor that the author forgot to mention even though it was extremely important to the plot of the original book. Ron rolled his eyes and followed Harry.

Harry knew the troll was about, from the horrid stench and the sounds of smashing and walloping. But before he found the troll, he and Ron saw Snape walking around very suspiciously. But what was even more suspicious about Snape was there was a giant gash in her leg.

"How mysterious," Harry said to Ron. "Maybe we should see what she's been up to."

"OK, but I need to go freshen up first," Ron said. Harry snarled, but followed him into the bathroom. "Er, Ron, this is the girl's bathroom..."

"So?"

"Nevermind," Harry replied, wondering yet again what he had done to deserve the weirdest friends in school.

When the duo entered the bathroom, they saw Hermione injecting a needle into her arm. "It's not what you think!" she cried when she saw them gaping at her. "It's my klutz medicine! I have to take it to prevent myself from complete accident prone-ness!"

Harry and Ron looked at her, skeptical. "Er, right," Harry rolled his eyes. "Really, Hermione, you could have made up a better excuse. Anti-klutziness medicine?"

"Hey, what's that noise?" Ron asked. Harry listened. Someone was knocking at the door.

Harry went to the door and answered it. "Yes?" he asked pleasantly. Then he realized it was the troll. Suddenly Harry exclaimed, "Yes! My chance to prove myself! Fight you blackguard!"

"Please—help!" Monty said sluggishly. "Cannot—find—makeup—kit..."

"Here, have mine," Ron said sweetly as he offered the troll his pink kit with hearts on it. As the troll reached out to grab it, Harry cried, "Now you've gone too far! How dare you try to hurt my friends!"

"But—"Monty started in defense, but it was too late. Harry had stuck his wand up the troll's nose. "Owie!" the troll cried and burst into tears. Harry pulled his wand out and said delightedly, "Troll bogies!" as he licked them off the wand.

"Urgh, Harry! That's so gross!" Ron wrinkled his nose and threw the troll's club, which appeared out of thin air, at Harry. His aim was a little off though, because it hit Monty instead. Someone clapped. The three swung around to see Nancy and a bunch of teachers in the doorway. "Bravo! Floop!" Nancy cried. "Ron, for subduing an angry troll ALL BY YOURSELF I award you this medal of honor!" And he awarded him that medal of honor. "It was nothing, really!" Ron protested. "He just wanted some make-up, that's—"

Harry roared and punched his fists into the wall. No one noticed, as Ron was the center of attention. When the Daily Privy turned up to photograph him, it was the last straw for Harry. "BUT HE DIDN'T DO ANYTHING! ALL HE DID WAS THROW A CLUB AT ME AND MISS! THIS IS SO UNFAIR! I'M THE HERO! ME!" Everyone backed up. "Harry, calm down," McGonagall said edgily.

"NO! NO! I WILL NOT CALM DOWN! I REFUSE! THIS IS COMPLETELY—COMPLETELY—er, did I say unfair already?" They nodded. "Well...then it's double unfair!"

"What I want to know is why you three were in the bathroom during Monty's rampage," McGonagall demanded. Hermione hurriedly put her syringe behind her back.

"Uhh...well...Hermione was in danger, so we, uhh, rescued...her.." Harry stuttered.

McGonagall's nostrils flared. "Twenty points from Gryffindor, for rescuing the life of another student without permission!" Then all the teachers stomped away.

When the three got back to the Gryffindor common room, they looked at each other awkwardly. Then Ron said brightly, "Hey, we've all been in the same hyped-up, over-dramatized experience. Shouldn't we be friends?"

"Sure!" They all giggled together and went off to paint each others' toenails like all good chums should.

The next morning, they all sat together at breakfast. Harry was rather grumpy because the other night, he'd forgotten that he was still in his pirate costume and that morning he'd had to peel a slightly squished Betsy off his shoulder. He was also mad because Betsy never brought him mail. She never even flew around and bit his ear off affectionately, which was in the script.

Hermione and Ron were poring over the Daily Privy. "Look, it's my article! 'Boy Slaughters Giant Troll With No Aid From Friends'," Ron gushed. Harry muttered something incomprehensible angrily. "What's that, Harry?"

"You don't wanna know."

"Hey, Harry!" Hermione cried, beaver teeth wobbling dangerously. Ever since her large dose of anti-klutz medicine, her accident prone-ness was much less showy. "It's an article about you!" She read the title out loud. "'Schizo Boy Rages in Jealousy'! Look, they even have a picture of you beating up a random student."

Harry then took out his anger by beating up a random student. However, this random student happened to be Neville, who immediately fought back by blasting Harry's left hand into oblivion. Hermione offered to fix it, but even when she'd been treated Harry didn't trust her with his body parts. Instead he went to the nurse's office, where Madame Pomfrey used pliers, a drill, and a saw to attach his hand to his wrist again.

Harry left the infirmary rubbing his sore left wrist and cursing. Just then the author showed. "Harry, you're not allowed to curse. It's out of character, dear."

"Who the hell are you?" he asked.

"I am the AUTHOR. I come to you in all my awesomeness."

"Oh, good, because I wanted to point out some holes in the plot for you."

The author decided to play along. "Yeah, what?"

"Well, first off, there is the question of the plot. So far, you've hardly planted one clue to the plot. Nothing big and significant is happening."

"Look, Harry, you're a nice kid—well, no you're not, but whatever, since I did create your personality, I want to be kind by warning you: don't question my awesomeness. It's really not smart."

"I DON'T CARE! YOU'RE POWERLESS TO STOP ME! THIS IS A DEMOCRACY, DAMMIT!"

The author sighed. "Listen, Harry, you can either bear with me or I can completely change this story and make it focus on a passionate affair between you and Ron. Really, compared to some fics, this ain't that gruesome..."

Harry gulped. "OK, you win. Can I just ask you what I'm supposed to be doing? How do I prove my hero-ness?"

The author frowned. "Sorry, Harry, can't help you there. I totally forgot what happens and can't find my copy of the first book. Oh, OK, I'm just too lazy to go get it, I know exactly where it is."

Harry made a puppy-eyed face. "Aww, who could resist that face?" the author said. Then she smacked Harry across the face. "Don't try your cheap tricks on me, Harry. I am awesomeness, remember that. Now ta-ta as you weird people in England say." With that the author disappeared in a puff of smoke. Harry grumbled, "Good for nothing author—"and suddenly Ron ran up to him and gave him a passionate embrace. Ron blinked, pulled away, and said, "Whaaaa?" before gallivanting away. Harry threw up his hands and yelled, "All right, all right!" as the author, unbeknownst to others, smiled smugly.

Harry lay on his cot, moaning about meanie authors and how the world was against him, when he got a note. Much to his dismay, it was not Betsy who carried it but some random owl from school. He sighed. Betsy was smelling rather bad lately and he'd had to tape her beak back on when it had fallen into his trough. He opened the note. It said in terrible handwriting, "Grrrr roarrrr my cottage smiargh 2 o'clock fork big surprise bring bedget friends rrrrrrr yummy troll legs grrrr." Harry was getting rather good at translating Rabid's strange language and decided the cannibal meant "Come to my cottage at two o'clock. I have a surprise, so bring your friends."

So Harry gathered his merry chums and they all followed the yellow brick road to Rabid's cottage. He greeted them at the doorstep where he was devouring what looked like a four-headed antelope. Rabid ushered them into his shack—er, cottage. It had lots of posters on the wall and bumper stickers on the window, some that said "Cannibals Anonymous" and some that said "Cannibal on Board". A stack of Neville-robots was set near a dresser drawer. On top of the drawer was a picture of Rabid's father fondly punching Rabid in the shoulder and next to that, another picture of Rabid fondly shoving his father down his throat. Harry broke out into a nervous sweat.

Rabid pointed to the fireplace where a large black egg was smoldering on a spit. Hermione breathed sharply. "Rabid," she asked tentatively, "is that...a dragon egg?!"

Rabid smiled. "Yep. Hatched it last night."

"How'd you hatch a dragon egg?!" Ron cried. "You're not a dragon, and you're not a female."

"Well, bought some fertility drugs off a chap in the pub I met a while ago," Rabid said, frothing as always. "Want some squirrel sandwiches? Fresh off the burner. Skinned or furry?"

"Er, that's all right," Harry squirmed. "Oh, by the way," he continued nonchalantly, "this morning I was trying to find the bathroom, and I guess I got lost, because I opened the door and there was this giant three-headed dog inside."

Rabid frowned in mid-froth and pulled a computer out of one of his enormous pockets, scanning the screen as he scrolled down. "That's funny, the author never mentions this in the story."

Harry shrugged. "Well, she's a bit forgetful and she's too lazy to write down everything." Ron suddenly put his hand on Harry's knee, looking shocked. Harry cried, "Just kidding har de har har har!" to the sky and Ron took his hand away and stared at it, confused. The author smiled again.

"Rrrrrr, Harry, this room, by chance, wouldn't be on the third floor corridor, would it?" Rabid seemed to froth even more when he was concentrating.

"I think it was! Yes, I remember, I had to run up all these stairs and my bladder was jiggling around and I nearly peed right on the—"

"OK, that's enough, Harry," Hermione said quickly. "Do you know anything about this?" she asked Rabid.

"Oh, yeah, I bought Fluffy from some guy in a pub!" Rabid said happily. "I put him there to guard the—"

"Rabid, shouldn't you be scared of giving us too much top-secret information?" Ron asked.

"What? Oh, yes, I suppose, but I always wanted to brag to someone about the secret that Dum—Nancy made me swear never ever to tell..."

"Nope, Rabid," Ron said, shaking his head piously. "It wouldn't be right." Rabid shut his gob glumly and Harry and Hermione glared daggers at Ron. Then Rabid held up the platter of squirrel sandwiches to the trio and they quickly left.

Later, at night, they discussed this. "So, Fluffy's there to guard something..." Hermione began. She looked to Harry for his opinion. He was busy picking at his cuticles. "Harry, pay attention!" she snapped.

"Huh—what? Oh, sorry."

"So...Fluffy's there to guard something...Harry, didn't you say that when you and Rabid went to that vault, he said it was Hogwarts business or something?"

Harry thought. "Yeah, I think he did."

"So," Ron picked up, "maybe that thing you stole is what Fluffy's guarding!"

Harry's forehead furrowed. "But how? It can't be! I've got the thing in my pocket!"

"Hmmm...if Fluffy's not guarding the—err, thing," Hermione said, wagging around her beaver teeth, "then what's Fluffy guarding instead? Maybe it was supposed to guard the thing, but now it's for something else!"

"Wait..." Ron breathed. "When me and Harry were looking for Monty, we passed the third floor corridor and Snape was limping around with a gash in her leg! Maybe..."

"Maybe he tried to get past Fluffy to see what it was guarding!" Hermione finished with excitement.

"None of this matters until we know what it's really guarding. We know it's not the little red stone thingy I stole." Harry ground his teeth in frustration. "We're exactly where we started again, and I am no closer to becoming a famous tragic hero!"

"Well, now we know that Fluffy is guarding something instead of the thing, and maybe Snape wants it, so that's a start," Ron mused. "Isn't it?"

"Ah, it's probably not even important," Harry shrugged. "I'm really tired."

And so the chums skipped down the yellow brick road—I mean, to their cots.

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Wow! We had three guest appearances in this chapter, Monty the Entertaining Troll, the author AKA me, and gasp the PLOT! Finally. Now, review, or I'll sic Monty on you!

Monty: She's not kidding.

Harry: Hullo, all!

Author: What the hell are you doing here, Harry?

Harry: Just here to encourage the others to review, and might I be so bold as to add that those bags under your eyes are very becoming, O Wise and Revered Author.

Author: OK, what do you want?

Harry: I was hoping you could give me some abs in the story so I can win me some hos.

Author: You're eleven! All of you, leave now, I wanna sleep.

Harry & Monty: Fine. (Different cases of angst ensue)

REVIEW!!!