When Glasses Are Broken

A/N: This was originally a little play/drama thing my class did at school. It's not altogether following the original plotline - I changed a few things to suit myself. I apologise to my classmates if they aren't too fond of the little updated version.

This little fic is dedicated to my buddies in 2 Damai. Thanks for being such geat friends, and I'll miss you guys when we're all in different classes next year. I know you guys have seen this play in action ... so, now you can read it in action! If that even makes sense ...

Disclaimer: I don't own HP, Star Wars, LoTR or anything else in this fic. The only thing I own will have to be the sorry, sad excuse of a plotline.

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A young man of a past unknown stepped out of the darkness, smiling nervously and holding a sheet of paper. He seemed excited about something, and every once in a while, he would give a whispered 'Yes!' and punch the air with his fist. He stepped up to the stage, and everyone in the audience applauded politely. He gave a little bow, and took the microphone in his shaking hand.

'Good evening everybody,' he said. 'This is my first time on stage, so ... bear with me, and I promise I'll do my best!' He smiled another nervous smile. Someone in the audience coughed.

He swallowed, and wiped away the sweat from his brow with his handkerchief.

'Erm ... right. So, I'll start now.'

Another cough.

'Ahem. Five minutes ago, in a place called the "Planet of Ridiculous Happenings", something ridiculous was happening.' His voice was shaking a bit, but he slowly got over his nerves. Suddenly, there was a noise from the audience, like someone trying to snap their fingers, but failing horribly. Everyone stared in the direction of the sound and saw a teenager standing, her hand held up in front of her. She kept flicking her middle finger against her thumb, looking frustrated. Finally, there was a snapping noise, and the girl grinned evilly.

Suddenly, the atmosphere changed. The stage, the audience - his beautiful audience! - disappeared. The young man gasped and nearly dropped his papers, but he clutched them tightly.

He was in blue, blue stretching forever in all directions. He looked down, puzzled. And screamed.

He was in mid-air. And falling. Fast.

But, through the blur of wind, and the ground closing in on him, he could see a blur of red, and brown hurtling towards him. Before he had time to think, the object crashed into him, and he heard a voice yell 'Ow!'. Now, both were hurtling down, down, down ...

The girl appeared again, right next to him, her hand held in front of her, like before.

'What do you think you're -' he yelled, as the girl again, tried to snap her fingers desperately.

'Oh no,' she squeaked, as the ground and their impending doom came closer. 'Oh snap!' she screamed.

There was a loud crack, and the ground, the rushing wind ... they disappeared.

There was somebody on him. A somebody with messy black hair, and a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead.

'Harry Potter?' he scurried out of the way, staring at the boy lying down in front of him. The boy stirred.

'Who are you?' he said warily, reaching into his pocket, and pulling out his wand. He was fumbling around, disoriented, since that his glasses were lying some metres away, the glass shattered.

Unbeknowst to the two young men, the teenage girl was now sitting three metres away, making a mud cake, humming cheerfully. Two other girls were with her, one sprinkling water onto the sloppy mixture, and the other pouring in some odd purple substance into it. Harry and Narry (Yes, that was his name. Maybe that's why they picked him for 'narrator' ...) seemed to ignore this very vital piece of information.

'Just a tad more Confusement Concoction there,' said the first girl. More of the purple substance was added.

'You ruined my moment!' cried Narry, close to tears. 'I've never been on stage before ... it's all your fault!'

Harry blinked, confused. He squinted and said, 'You aren't a Death Eater, are you? You're way too whiny to be one ...'

'Now,' all three girls nodded to each other happily and skipped out of the way.

Narry charged, his hands outstretched. 'Die!' he yelled maniacaly, pushing Harry into the very convenient and unsuspicious mud cake with purple sparks dancing over it. Nope, not suspicious in the least.

Harry lost balance, and fell backwards into the muck, his body arching gracefully. Somewhere on that strange plane of existence, a row of girls wearing turqoise blue uniforms held up number cards. A few read '8.5' and some had a '9'. One of them had 'I LOVE YOU, HARRY!' written in large pink writing.

Moving on ...

He fell into the mud, and almost immediately, his mind went blank, and his thoughts were slowed down. He sat up slowly, blinking stupidly. A girl with messy black hair crept up behind him, a pair of scissors in her hand. Laughing evilly, she snipped off his hair (not all of it) and ran off, clutching a handful of very muddy hairs. Harry didn't seem to notice this. He stood up, and looked down at himself. It took a while to register what he was seeing.

He stared straight ahead, blinking stupidly. 'I'm muddy,' he said slowly, as Narry was dragged away by the Fiction Police.

'I'm innocent!' Narry shrieked. 'Innocent, I tell you!'

'You're under arrest for attacking a fictional character. That's under Code 2 D, under category S A. You'r coming with us.' The Fiction Police clamped a pair of manacles onto Narry's wrists. Still shrieking, they dragged him away.

Meanwhile, Harry blinked again, and said, 'I think I need a bath.'

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A/N: So ... loved it? Hated it? Drop me a review and tell me what you think. :)