Harry, Ron, and Hermoine excitedly took seats in the great hall amid the chaos of the start-of-year ceremony.

“I can’t wait to watch the sorting,” Ron said, taking a seat across from Harry and Hermione and looking around. The voices of hundreds of students rang out, making an awful noise that was difficult to speak over.

“I wonder how many new Gryffindors there will be,” Hermione said.

After another half hour of noise and bustle and chaos, Professor Dumbledore stood up at the faculty table and yelled, “Silence!”

Everyone shut up, except for a few last giggles from Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil at the end of Gryffindor table.

Dumbledore began his traditional three-word speech by clearing his throat. But he didn’t even get around to saying the first word, because all of the sudden Ron Weasley stood up and yelled,

“NEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRD!”

“Ron!” Hermione looked suddenly panicked. “Sit down!”

“I can’t!” Ron looked just as panicked as Hermione. Harry looked around at the other tables. Every single pair of eyes was turned on him, except for a certain Slytherin student who was wearing an eye patch for reasons unexplained.

Ron was unable to take a seat. He cupped his hands to his mouth and yelled,

“DWEEBS! ALL OF YOU! DWEEBS! GO SWIM IN TACO SAUCE!”

A few Slytherins began to laugh. Then it spread to the Ravenclaw table, and then the Hufflepuffs, and finally, Fred and George began to snigger.

Soon the entire Great Hall was filled with laughs and cackles. Ron blushed, but he was still unable to sit down. He picked up his goblet, which was not yet filled with pumpkin juice, put it over his mouth, and sucked in to make it stick to his face.

“Ron?” Harry looked at his friend. “What’s going on?” Ron was as red as his hair. He made a shrugging motion like, I don’t know! Finally, the goblet dropped off his face and smashed on the ground. Ron sat down.

“Don’t do anything like that ever again,” Harry warned.

“It wasn’t me!” Ron argued. The laughter had not yet stopped. “I swear! J.K. Rowling’s never made me do anything that weird before. It’s like she’s not even writing it.”

Hermione’s eyes were huge. “I don’t think J.K. Rowling is writing this,” She said, with a terrified look on her face.

“What?” Harry and Ron said together.

“I think we’re in a fan fiction,” Hermione whispered.

“A fan what?” Ron said.

“Sssh...” Hermione warned, “Don’t let the author...or maybe authors...hear you. Don’t let them know we’re on to them.”

“Who?” Harry was confused.

“The fan fiction author!”

“But what’s a fan fiction?” Ron asked in a whisper.

“It’s when muggles decide that they want to write about copyrighted characters. Any book character is at risk to be used by a fan fiction author. You get yanked out of your real author’s world and into some muggle’s idea of how things should be.”

Harry suddenly looked enlightened. “Oh, I get it,” He said. “Is that why yesterday I told Cho her breath smelled like Cheez-Its?”

“Probably,” Hermione whispered. “Now, stay low, and maybe the author won’t bother us any more.”

“FAT CHANCE!” A voice boomed.

Hermione, Harry, and Ron looked up to the teacher’s table, thinking maybe Dumbledore had yelled it. But when they looked up to where Dumbledore usually sat, they froze.

Lord Voldemort sat nonchalantly in Dumbledore’s big chair. He was wearing a beanie with a propellor on top. The propellor was rotating slowly. Beside him, in place of the teachers, sat an assortment of muggle media mascots. Instead of Professor Flitwick, Lucky the Leprechaun sat eating a bowl of Lucky Charms. In Snape’s place, Ronald McDonald was glaring at Harry with his arms folded. Where Professor MacGonagall should have been sitting, Aunt Jemima was stuffed into the chair, looking uncomfortable. Harry was relieved to see Hagrid still sitting in his usual place, but his hopes were quickly crushed as a whoosh of smoke went up around Hagrid. When the smoke cleared, Harry was dismayed to see The Jolly Green Giant sitting in his place.

Harry swallowed hard and looked from Hermione to Ron.

“We’re definitely in a fan fiction,” Hermione said, in a dead quiet whisper.

Voldemort stood up and tapped his glass with an eggbeater. He had no real need, however, because the Great Hall was already silent at the sight of him.

“Attention, students,” Voldemort hissed. His red eyes scanned the Great Hall, finally coming to rest upon Harry. “I’d like to make a few announcements. First of all,” He put his goblet down and began to stir its contents with the eggbeater, “I’d like to say Happy Birthday to your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, the Trix Rabbit.”

“Silly Rabbit!” Draco Malfoy suddenly shouted, “Trix are for kids!” He quickly covered his mouth and sat down, extremely embarrassed.

“Let’s hear it for the fan fic author,” Ron said, laughing uncontrollably.

“And second of all,” Voldemort began, “Tomorrow the third years will begin their Divination and Care of Magical Creatures with Professors Little Debbie and Mr. Jolly Green.”

A groan of disappointment and confusion rose up from the four tables.

“And, now,” Voldemort stood up, “For the sorting.” He took off his beanie and walked around the teachers’ table to face the first-years. He set the beanie down on a stool.

The beanie suddenly shuddered. It yawned. The propellor began to rotate faster and faster, then it began to sing,

I love you, you love me,

We’re a happy family

With a great big hug...

Ron’s face was distorted with disgust. “This author is nuts!” He said. “Positively mental!”

A spatula suddenly fell from the sky and clonked Ron on the head.

“BEFORE YOU GO CALLING ME NAMES,” the loud voice boomed again, “YOU’D BETTER LOOK OVER AT SLYTHERIN TABLE!”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked across the hall toward Slytherin table to see that Malfoy was quietly singing along and bobbing his head to the music.

“We love your fan fiction!” Ron flattered. There was no reply.

When the beanie finished singing its terrifying song, the group of scared...no, horrified...first-years were ushered toward it. The Energizer Bunny began to read off the list of names.

“AAA Battery,” It said, pounding on its drum.

A boy stepped forward. Voldemort looked confused.

“Is your name AAA Battery?”

The boy nodded. Voldemort sighed and shook his head. “Fine. Sit down.”

It took the beanie several attempts before it finally got the name of a house. “Snugglepluff! Umm...Piggyjaw!...Tyrannosaurus! Dingledrool! Gryffindrawer...”

“Close enough,” Voldemort said and shoved AAA Battery toward the Gryffindor table. Half-hearted applause dribbled through the students.

After what seemed like days, the Sorting Beanie finally got through the last student. Ron and Harry were snoring loudly, their faces in their food. Hermione was hunched over with a tinfoil hat on and a baseball bat in her hand. When Harry had asked her what it was for, she said, “To ward off evil fan fiction writers! They aren’t getting to MY brain waves!”

Suddenly Harry woke up. He was sitting up in bed in the Gryffindor boy’s dormitory. Ron was sleeping in a four-poster a few yards away.

It was all a dream, he sighed. Lucky for me.

A spatula promptly fell on his head.

fin