Hyperkitti: Hey everyone and welcome to our joint fic! Mine and Kattikit's that is.

Kattikit: Yep! Anyway, this is a Harry Potter/??? crossover. You won't find out what with til the next chappie tho.

Hyperkitti: This fic is MAD!!! You have been warned! Please put on your seatbelts and get ready for the show!

Kattikit: Did you really just say that?

Hyperkitti: Yep

Kattikit: Damn. I was hoping we could surprise them. Anyways, aren't we forgetting something?

Both: WE DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER!

Hyperkitti: Unless we kidnap JK Rowling.

Kattikit: Shhhhh! Dont reveal our secret plans! ENJOY!!!!!!!!!!


A new year at Hogwarts...first years excitedly running round, eager to learn...a clean school...the smell of knowledge in the air...and that was half a term ago. This story is set in the ninth week of term...half the first years had deserted already...graffiti everywhere (and I mean everywhere) ...and the only thing that smells is that prank the aspiring 'Fred and George' of the school played within the first five minutes of their arrival. It is six weeks before the Christmas holidays, and Professor Dumbledore has an announcement to make.

"I have an announcement to make" his voice boomed around the hall. It broke glass. It shattered the statues into a thousand pieces each. Half the ceiling fell in. Nobody was listening, but it was a good effect.

Eventually, and with Professor Dumbledore looking most disgruntled, Professor McGonagall decided enough was enough, and stood up. Instant silence.

Dumbledore glared at her, grumbling something under his breath that sounded something like "...stupid half-witted purple pair of socks..." to those near enough to hear, and started to speak.

"Friends, enemies, and slightly annoying flibbles that we just keep around to annoy Filch" A guttural growl came from the corner behind him "We are gathered here to grieve...I mean rejoice at the unfortunate demise of Lord Voldemort who, as we all know, was killed late last night in an unfortunate incident involving a vacuum cleaner, a toasting fork, and a large rubber chicken."

A ragged cheer went up from all save the Slytherins, who were still sulking over the fact that they hadn't been able to top him off first.

"Now to mourn...I mean celebrate his untimely end, the staff and I..." many death glares sent by 'the staff' proved this was not the case "...Have decided that to boost everyone's spir...keep the good spirits going, that we would do a dramatisation of a certain member of staff's favourite book. Auditions will be tomorrow – anybody who is auditioning will be excused from lessons..." ("NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" came a distant cry from the seat next to Harry Potter, who had been among the sulkers over Voldemort's death. After all, he had no reason to be famous anymore. How can you be 'The Boy Who Lived' if you didn't even kill your enemy!) "...and the cast list will be posted the next day." He sat down with a loud fart, stood up, took the magi-whoop off his chair, sat back down again, and continued eating his meal.

"It's OK Hermione, you can stop screaming now."

"Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry," she said, without even a gasp for breath. "Please, please, PLEASE don't audition tomorrow."

"Flabble wownd, wanel!" exclaimed Ron, testing the impossible by eating eleven fish legs at once (Chicken legs had been outlawed ever since 'The Voldemort Incident', which had since been labelled the '10 Things You Really Shouldn't Do With A Vacuum Cleaner, A Toasting Fork, And A Large Rubber Chicken' incident.)

Harry and Hermione stared at him for a moment, before Hermione said, very loudly and clearly, "Turn on your Ron eating – English translator now. Then please repeat." Ron did as she said, then said "Calm down, mate."

"But I know that you bothwanttoauditionandsoyouwantmetocometosoI'llbestuckmissinglessonsandIdon'twantto." Hermione breathed at last, before whining again "I don't wanna come!"

"It's alright Herm, we'll protect you from those big, nasty, mean people who would dare to audition us." Said Harry. Hermione, like the big girl that she was, stuck her tongue out at them.

"Well well Hermione. I never thought you'd be too fishy (chicken! Outlawed! Remember?) to try."

"Ahh Draco," Ron drawled back "And I suppose you'll be auditioning?"

"Why of course," said Draco who had just crept up behind them, sporting a bright pink tutu. "I could never let my house down by not being the main character. I wonder what we'll be doing; Peter Wand...The Wizard of Ulca...Close Encounters of the Mudblood Kind...Hey, what are you laughing about. I bet you've never read them!"

Harry and Ron, who had in fact been laughing for close to five minutes before the dense Draco had actually realised, were paralysed on the floor, fish legs being spat out all over the place.

"Oh phooey to you!" Draco cried, and ran away before they realised just how lame that insult was. Or, he tried to.

"I'm pleased you feel so eager about our little project, Mr Malfoy," Professor McGonagall was looming overhead. "As I have already signed you up for the auditions on behalf of your father."

Draco looked smugly back at the trio.

"Yes, he was most surprised to hear you were getting yourself into a muggle production..."

"What!"

"...especially one that went against all his wished..."

"But..."

"And especially one where there is such an intricate narrative and one so liberated of all contemporary brands of enchantment..."

"Huh?"

"But he is of course delighted for you to represent the Malfoy family line in such a great occasion."

"What are we doing, Professor?" Hermione said, possibly the only one who could have said it with a straight face at this point.

Professor McGonagall stared for a moment, before replying as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Why it is..."