Lesson 4: Ten Things to do Before I Die

            Hermione:  A lot of Harry Potter fics don't live up to their potential.  It seems inevitable that the author will at some point, become bored, lazy, or forgetful of their project, leaving out some of the great ideas they originally had for the story and ending it in an awkward spot.  Miss Unoriginality's go is a great example of ending things the wrong way.

            My advice?  Hang in there.  Make a list of the most important things that you wanted in your story.  Some of these may have to be sacrificed at one point or another in favor of quality, but the ideas might provide inspiration to keep up the good work.

            Ron:  Okay!  Number ten: I want to see Ron and Harry ride the Colossus Cruiser.

            Hermione:  Number nine: I want to see the relationship between Hermione's curse and her new hair.  Have you noticed my subtle foreshadowing, Ron?

            Ron:  What are you talking about?

            Hermione:  Every time her hair gets touched, my character goes into 'evil mode.'

            Ron:  Oh that.  Yeah, uh… (clears throat) 'course I noticed.  Number eight:  I want some tie-ins to the big picture.  You know, an appearance by You-Know-Who or something.

            Unoriginality:  Number seven: I want to see Harry and Hermione confess their beautiful love for each other and have a hundred kids!

            Ron:  I thought you wanted DxHr before?

            Hermione:  Authors are fickle.  Now go away, Miss Unoriginality, we're working.  Ahem, number six: I want to see Harry get a bit disillusioned with Hermione for yelling at him all the time.

            Ron:  You want all stuff for you!  Number five: I want to see more action!

            Hermione:  Number four: I want to discover what that mysterious portkey described in the very first paragraph leads to.

            Ron:  Number three: I want to see somebody do their muggle report on toiletries!

            Hermione:  You want what?

            Ron:  It would be funny!

            Hermione:  Er… well, strange as it may be, you're on to something.  Number two: I want to see more comic relief.

            Ron:  (dramatically)  And the number one reason people prefer unicorn hair over phoenix feathers for their wands…

            Hermione:  Oh, you and your joking.

            Ron:  You said you wanted to see more comic relief.

            Hermione:  Not right now.

            Ron:  Practicing that sentence for your future married life?  (feigns a girl's voice… though it doesn't sound much like one)  Not right now, dear!

            Hermione:  (smug)  What can I say?  I'm just not turned on by comedy.

            Ron:  (normal voice)  So maybe if I read you a nice, boring book, then?

            Hermione:  Ahem.  Number one: I want to see more mystery!

            Ron:  It was a dark and stormy night…

            Hermione:  Not that kind of mystery.

            Ron:  It was a bright and clear night?

            Hermione:  Will you quit?!

            Ron:  Not until you admit you like it!

            Hermione:  Like what?

            Ron:  A little bit of humor:

            In an attempt to lighten the mood, the remarkable Ron Weasley broke into a joke.  Everybody listened to the set up, unable to tear their attention away until the punch line, "That's not a hippogriff, that's my wife!"

            They all laughed uncontrollably.

            Hermione:  That… that is just so bad.

            Ron:  Own up, Hermione, where would this story be without my wit, huh?

            Hermione:  A little less ridiculous, I'd say.

            Ron:  Ooo, you're asking for it:

            "Tell another one, Ron!" Hermione pleaded, wiping tears of laughter off her cheeks.

            "Sure!" Ron was always willing to help cheer his friends up.  "Have any of you heard the one where a boggart, a house-elf, and an animated piece of rope walk into a bar?"

            "Do tell!" Harry exclaimed, clasping his hands.

            "Well," Ron had to hold back a premature chuckle… it's just that the joke was sooo funny!  "The piece of rope says, 'I'd like a butterbeer for me and my friend the elf, but we'd better have a polyjuice potion for the boggart!'"

            Everybody burst out with laughter once again, doubling over.

            Hermione:  That doesn't even make sense!

            Ron:  You don't get it?

            Hermione:  It's not funny.

            Ron:  Better admit it soon or this story will be beyond all help:

            "One more?" Ron asked.  They were all laughing so hard that couldn't say yes, so they just nodded their heads.

            "Okay," Ron rubbed his hands together, thinking up a good one.  "Oh, there's this one where a wizard goes to his favorite restaurant and orders chicken noodle soup for his cold, and when the soup arrives, he says, 'Waiter, there's an animagus in my cauldron'!"

            This was too much, Harry, Hermione, and Malfoy passed out from laughing too hard.

            Hermione:  (frantic)  No, you're ruining our story!  I give!

            Ron:  Okay, then say it!

            Hermione:  Okay, okay, okay.  I'd be lost without your sense of humor… when you use it properly, that is.  Those last three entries were just… wrong.

            Ron:  (satisfied)

            Hermione:  Now let's see if I can fix this:

            "Hermione?  Malfoy?" Hagrid stood over the two unconscious students, prodding them gently.  "Ya oughtta get up now!"

            Hermione blinked her eyes several times before really seeing anything.  "Hagrid?  What happened?"

            "I think Ron musta used a pack of Laughing Spores on ya," Hagrid explained, plucking a mushroom growing from Hermione's forehead and tossing it aside.  "It'll make any person laugh at any joke, even if it's not funny!"

            "That explains it!" Hermione rose to a sitting position.  "The last thing I remember was something about chicken soup!" She shook her head.  "Where is everybody?"

            "They all got their assignments explained, an' their off workin' on 'em already."

            "You mean we're," She glanced at the sleeping Slytherin that had collapsed nearby… too nearby.  She stood up and stepped away.  "That we're the only ones left to get an assignment?"

            Hagrid nodded.  "I'll go get the parchment for ya.'  Why don' ya' wake up your partner, Sleeping Beauty here, so I can explain the assignment to ya' both?"

            She wanted to tell Hagrid that she'd rather not, but he had already disappeared into the most gigantic filing cabinet she'd ever seen.  She grimaced at her task.

            "Get up," Hermione requested weakly.

            When there was no response, she bent over and pulled the little mushroom out of Draco's forehead.  This seemed to do the trick.

            "What…"

            "We were rendered unconscious by these." She answered the question before it was even asked, holding the 'shroom between two fingers.  "Get up already, we're getting our assignment!"

            "Still lookin'!" Hagrid announced from the oversized filing cabinet.  "There's gotta be another one in here!"

            "Laughing Spores," Malfoy obviously recognized the charm-gag.  "I'm going to kill that stupid Weasley!"

            Hermione rolled her eyes.  "Please spare me the homicidal venting right now.  I want to concentrate on whatever the assignment is, so I can get on with the rest of my life."

            "Undoubtedly by 'life,' you mean skulking around the library?"

            "Actually, I meant Slytherin-free."

            "Foun' it!" Hagrid emerged.  "Las' one left, but I knew Mr. Weasley would 'ave made jus' enough.  These were his idea, ya' know!"

            Hermione smiled superficially, but she was secretly dreading what Ron's dad could have possibly come up with for a muggle research project.

            "Ya' know, Mr. Weasley has a little side interest," Hagrid scratched his head as he unrolled the parchment.  "Very interested in muggles, he is.  Came up with a couple subjects for ya' to research for 'im."

            "Well?" Hermione had intended for that to sound sweeter than it did.  "What is the subject, then?"

            Hagrid studied the writing, concentrating.  "Er… toiletries?  Is tha' what it says?"

            Both doomed students leaned over to double-check.  "Yes," they groaned.

            "Toiletries, then!" Hagrid announced, as though he had made the decision himself.  "Anyhoo, you two are 'sposed to come up with a sorta packet of information on these… toiletries." He pointed to the top third of the parchment.  "Here's your shoppin' list.  Says you can go ter a 'drug store' for the stuff.  Wonder if that's kinda like the shops for potions' ingredients in Diagon Alley?"

            "No," Hermione said blandly.

            "Oh well, that's okay, cause you can figure it out, eh, Hermione?" He chuckled.  "Anyhoo, bring the stuff back here, an' do the tests," He pointed to the middle of the parchment.  "Here.  Then write some reports for Mr. Weasley… an' then you're done!  Got all that?"

            Malfoy snatched the parchment violently.  He scanned it, and seemed to come across something he really didn't like.  "My father-"

            "Signed righ' here." Hagrid pointed to the bottom of the page.  "Your parents signed too, Hermione." He shrugged his massive shoulders.  "Looks like you're both stuck with it."

            "Hagrid," Hermione pleaded.  "Can't you do anything?  Can't you at least give us a different research topic… like economics?"

            "Economics!?" Draco looked horrified.

            "Sorry," Hagrid said.  "But it should only take a day, if ya' hurry.  Then you'll have the las' three days to yerself.  But I'm warnin' ya,' the Ministry's payin' special attention to us while we're here, so don' think ya' can get away with doin' magic out in the streets!"

            Ron:  (pleased)  Toiletries!  Oh, yeah!

            Hermione:  That was one of your better ideas… in complete contrast to the 'animagus in my soup' joke, of course!

            Ron:  Great as the jokes are, though, I think I've sort of forgotten what the whole point of this fic was supposed to be.

            Hermione:  Er… yeah.  I was afraid of that.  Let me pull out one of my charts.