Thanks to my lovelyyyy reviewers: Sabine Strohem-Moss, the pure rose (I removed the review button? For real? How did I manage to do that!), Black Triforce, Jenny (Blockhart and Girlyboy are Harry's attempts at humor—and mine—Gilderoy Lockhart is his real name in this), Me gusta books (I live in the good old US of A), nutz nina (wow u reviewed a LOT! You've got a twin? Cool!) and poetic license AKA abbs.
You know something? My fans are better than your fans. My fans are undemanding and appreciative. I have the bestest reviewers in the world. Then again, I only have about five remaining fans…well, let's not focus on that. My eternal thanks and smoochies to you all! You are the fuel that feeds this monstrosity! (Shame on you).
Disclaimer: I didn't steal this unlawfully, I swear! It was the Communists! The Communists! (hehe…you'll see)…and without further ado…enjoy:
Chapter Six: A Gala Event
Harry returned from Squidditch practice that October day limping and exhausted. Riding a broomstick was as grueling as Wood described it to be, even one month into school, and Harry fingered the mini motorized cart in his pocket wistfully. That damn broom really had given him quite the ache around his—
"Oh, hello, Harry!" Harry turned to see Nearly Cockless Nick floating up to him. "Just the boy I wanted to see!"
"What is it, Nick?" Harry asked, too wary of the sex offender ghost to tell him to get stuffed.
"Well you see, my boy, five hundred years ago I died, and therefore, I am holding a huge, marvy party in the dungeons on Halloween!"
"What's that got to do with me?" Harry snapped.
"Why, you're the guest for the occasion!" Harry puffed up with pride. "Well, I do hold myself to the—"
"You see," Nick continued. "Having someone like you there will make me look so much better and heroic in comparison, because when it all comes down to it, you're really just a small, ordinary little boy."
Harry struggled to compose himself. Gritting his teeth, he said, "And why would I wanna come?"
"I've hired strippers."
Harry immediately brightened, even though I cannot stress how young he was for this sort of thing, and accepted Nick's invite. Much cordiality ensued and Halloween night, Harry found him, Ron, and Hermione dressed to maim (if not kill) and ready to descend to the infamous dungeons. On the way there, they passed rooms that had suspicious, bloodcurdling screams and cries of "Oh, God, why!" coming out of them. Hermione had a bit of an accident with a rack and screw sticking out of one closet, and Ron gasped in fright at the grime, blood, and soot gathering on his designer shoes. In fact, Harry had no idea why anyone would come down here of their own free will. Except Slytherins. Slytherins obviously delighted in filth and death!
Nick had neglected to mention that the strippers were ghosts, and old ones at that. Harry wandered around the party trying to avoid the ghosts and find food. Ron beat him to it, however, and Harry saw him devouring some strange kind of rotten cheese, then promptly throwing up,
"Harry, so good of you to join us!" Nick cried. "Have some refreshments!"
Harry looked at the table and Ron. "Erm, I'll pass for now, Nick." Suddenly another ghost floated up to them. "Hullo, Harry, I'm Moaning Myrtle and I died in a bathroom fifty years ago. I am an extremely important plot device."
Harry, sadly, was too busy brushing lint off his shoulder. "Harry?" the ghost sobbed. "Did you hear me?" But then Peeves the poltergeist floated up and threw oats or something at Myrtle and she floated away gibbering, chased by those annoying random people who punish characters for giving away the plot.
Hermione came over and said, "This party's dead."
"Well, of course it is," Nick frowned. "It is my Deathday party…now, would anyone want a demonstration of why I am Nearly Cockless?" he brightened at the prospect.
The trio shot out of the dungeon, Hermione knocking over the table of food and tripping several ghosts, which looked impossible but obviously not for one of her skill. They strolled around until Harry suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. "I'm hearing a voice!" he said cheerfully. Then he remembered that he was supposed to be dark and angsty. "I mean…a voice doth stir across my heavy, barren heart, fair comrades."
"COMRADES?" Snape rushed toward them. "I always knew you were a Communist, Potter, you and ALL your little comrades! Three HUNDRED points from Gryffindor!" He rushed off as fast as he came. Harry blinked. "Er…it's coming from over here." He led them to a dark, secluded corridor that just screamed danger and mystery. There was something moving in the corner. And that's when Harry heard the voice again.
Meow…meowww…
"Why, it's Mrs. Norris!" Ron said with a mischievous grin. "I do believe we could have a bit of fun with this!"
Ten minutes later, Mrs. Norris had been tied to a torch, transfigured into a duck, snake, and cat again (well, at least Hermione had been learning) and finally Petrified by Ron just for shits and giggles.
Suddenly, Harry heard footprints. "Uh oh, I hear someone!" Ron was busy writing things onto the wall. "Hello!" Harry exclaimed again. "I said there's someone coming!" Harry looked at his 'friend'. "I say, what ARE you writing?"
Ron replied offhandedly, "There's a sale going on at Target that I thought everyone should know about."
The footsteps were just round the corner.
"Aw, shit, we're gonna get it now," Ron said sadly. But Harry had an IDEA!
"Potter!" McGonagall's voice cried out. "What is the meaning of this! Dead cats! A sale at Target!"
"As you can see, Minerva, the boy is clearly a Communist," Snape said, making his voice actually sound oily.
"I can explain, Professor!" Harry cried. "It wasn't us! It was the Monster of Slytherin!" Hermione added. "What!" everybody exclaimed. She shrugged. "Those random slapping people really know a lot once you get them drunk enough," she explained.
McGonagall scratched her head. "Well…" she paused. "Sounds plausible, I suppose. Alright, you're all free to go."
"Not just yet, Minerva! Babock!" Nancy said in a stern voice. Harry held his breath, awaiting a stern punishment, when Nancy put on a bright smile. "Fifty points to Gryffindor, for fraud and lying to a teacher!" Then Nancy skipped away happily.
Nooooo…framed…hungry…eat…devour…hungry…I'll get you kids for this…devour…if it's the last thing I dooooo!…manburger…
"A voice!" Harry exclaimed. Ron rolled his eyes. "Oh, Harry, last time you said that, it turned out to be a cat!"
"NO! It was a real voice, and it's gonna kill me!" Harry shrilled wildly.
"…Nutter," Ron said.
Harry didn't sleep that night, and instead spent it turning restlessly on his cot, scared that whatever thing the voice belonged to was going to eat him in his sleep. And also scared about what would happen when Snape found out he was in fact a member of the Communist Party, and had been for seven years.
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There we go…nice long-ish chapter, you could say. I'm trying to update more often. I will definitely update even oftener though, if you….
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