Disclaimer: I own everything in the entire world, including you. And pancakes. Woot!
Okay, so...if you're a faithful reader of this story, you've probably been thinking that I may have stopped updating for forever.You were wrong. I was away for two and a half weeks, and had no access to a computer or the internet. I hope you forgive me.
A lot has happened since then, but not alot of writing. Sadly, I only have one more chapter ready for posting. I plan to write more over the weekend though, so the delay should'nt be too long.
I hope you all have been having a wonderful time, and review--so you don't die mysteriously and quietly. (sorry, i haven't been very creative lately)
Viva Chronicles!
So, it was while he was worrying about his clothing, instead of his life, that Mr. Malfoy stole his wand out of his back pocket.
"You should stop putting your wand in your back pocket, Mr. Potter."
Harry was confused. "But I thought it-"
"You thought it attracted girls' attention to your butt?"
"Well…yes…," said Harry, blushing. Well, why shouldn't girls look at my butt? Harry thought rebelliously. It's a very pretty butt, in my opinion. Also, everyone knows pooh bear prints hide cellulite.
Mr. Malfoy looked suddenly excited. "I thought exactly the same thing that I thought as a kid," said Mr. Malfoy, sitting down next to Harry with a thumppish pimpish thud.
"Trust me, it doesn't…promise me you'll stop wearing it there?" said the man, staring into Harry's green eyes.
Harry looked everywhere, especially away from Lucius, "Er….okay?"
"Trust me, you'll thank me. Now, who do-"
"Lucius…" a hesitant female voice interrupted them.
Mr. Malfoy suddenly looked up, resembling a deer in headlights. "Bellatrix, I'm-I'm sorry," he said, whining slightly. " You know that I can't really father Malfoy- he's such a rebellious boy. Narcissa and I were just talking about him yesterday-"
"Just get on with it, Luscius."
"Get on with what?" Harry gulped. He didn't like the sound of that.
"Oh, right," said the blonde, deepening his voice and creating lightening that periodically flashed behind him with a flick of his wand. "DO YOU KNOW WHY YOU AH HEA, HARRY POTTA?"
Harry hadn't given a thought to the sequence of events that had put him in this position. You just have to go with the flow when you are a 16-year-old constantly being attacked by the most powerful dark wizard in the world. He tried to recall how it had started. Something about a pastry…
He gasped, "Are you, are you…"
Lucius Malfoy sneered. "Yes, Potter. I am Swedish. I put the pastry on your window. I lured you here. Mwa."
You'll find me in SwedenBottle full of milk
I'm in there baking pastries, I'm in there being blonde
"Ssh…," whispered Harry, "I don't want them to know about you…yet."
In any other reasonable fanfiction, one of the two deatheaters, both who had their attention entirely focused on the boy, would have noticed him talking into his sweatshirt. Coincidentally, at the time Mr. Malfoy's lightening had begun to malfunction. Lucius was all for the dramatic effect it had on the scenario. Unfortunately, he could not create more lightening (for reasons relevant to the plot), so Bellatrix had to conjure a flashlight, then batteries. Mr. Malfoy was obviously reluctant and furious to use a muggle object. So then there was a huge argument about some other source of light being effective. And trying to get the batteries in…
In any case, whew. Harry was off the hook. He also had time to reason about how to save his life for the umpteenth time. Harry twisted his mouth while thinking that word. Umpteenth. Um teanth…um…umpa…bollocks.
Running?…no. We Potters don't run. What shall I do! What recources do I have? No wand… A rapping book… innate screaming ablilities-that's it! I'll scream!
Taking no regard for the fact that he was in a forest many miles away from anywhere, Harry screamed just as Lucius flipped on the flashlight under his chin, making ghost-like sounds. It took him a few moments to understand what was happening.
"Scream all you want, boy, no one's going to hear you," whispered Bellatrix nastily in his ear.
But Harry knew someone was going to hear him. Another one of those hero instincts. No hero dies before he faces his arch-enemy. Heroes are saved or find a way out from the traps they fall into.
And, sure enough, a moment later a storm of aurors appeared on the spot. Wheeeeeeeeeee…
It's a pity that death eaters are so easily recognized. Really, the black cloaks and evil faces….tsk, tsk. Really give them away. Honestly, they can do better. The aurors knew them to be evil in a second. Well, alright, two seconds. And a half. Can't forget the half.
Harry became lost as a rush of incantations was hurled at his two captors. He ignorantly squeezed himself between two aurors, trying to catch a glimpse of what was happening.
He thrust his thin self into the open. There, he saw Lucius writhing on the ground in agony, sobbing and clutching at his long-elf like hair which was now…chestnut! Nevertheless, he seemed incapable of hurting anyone, so Harry switched his attention over to Bellatrix.
Amazingly, the woman was surrounded by aurors but was still blocking spells, and had managed to curse a few aurors when she spotted Harry amongst them, looking very dashing.
She immediately spun towards him, flipped her hair in a gallant, but stupid effort to look fierce, and screeched a curse, pointing her wand at Harry.
Harry began to scream (natural reflex) but he felt the force of the curse directly at his stomach, knocking him and the unlucky aurors standing behind him down.
He was prepared to die.
He thought.
Well…
Well, ok, he could die, just so long as he got to meet pooh bear in heaven.
If he could, perhaps, only temporarily die…
Mmm…pooh bear…
What?
Oh right…he was (without doubt) maybe prepared to die.
No aurors had had the time to heroically jump in front of him, though a few had managed to hold onto Bellatrix, having grabbed hold of her wand.
But Harry didn't die. For the forty-second (and a half) time in six years, he had escaped death.
No one bothered to ask why until a few hours later, when he was back at the ministry after having coffee and a few pastries (no danishes though, to Harry's relief).
"So, why didn't you die, Harry?" asked Tonks conversationally, looking rather goth with her black hair and lips. This was contradicted by the pink frilly teacup she was using to sip tea. If tea cups can be frilly. All in all, she looked rather strange.
"I dunno, I-"
"Wotcher Harry!" screamed Tonks, collapsing with laughter. Harry fell in surprise and bewilderment.
"Excuse me?" he squeaked.
"Oh, sorry, just realized I hadn't said my hello that makes no sense to you today, is all…" Tonks looked unnervingly happy.
Several aurors nodded in acknowledgement, "But of course!" They were very French.
"Aah… I see…in any case, the spell hit my stomach-" said Harry, feeling his stomach, trying to show off his impressive abdomen, "Wait! Is that? It can't be…my god! I thought I had lost it."
Harry pulled out his textbook, looking a little worse for the wear.
"Yo, homie, it was yours truly who saved your life, man," said the text.
Tonks looked confused, and for good reason." Wait, it was a book that saved your life? And it talks? I don't get it."
"Me neither," said Remus, sitting nearby, nibbling furiously, if that is possible, on a bar of chocolate. He offered some to Harry, who politely refused-he no longer so sure about that chocolate; its contents, long term affect, and, most importantly, it's legality...
"Er…explain, please?" said Harry to the smug-looking book.
"Well, I was all chillin' having a bit of fun, if you know what I mean- when I felt something hit me, man, it hurt like a motha, but it bounced right off, of course, ya know what I mean? My funky-fresh manufacturer wanted to make me as fly as possible, you see, dawg? So they looked to muggle rappers as inspiration, man, eh, yo. And the first idea they had for my cover was a bullet-proof vest-like-thing, man, it's pimp, man, even though it makes me look kinda fat, man. But that had nothing to do with the wizarding world, anyway, ma, so they made this pimp wizard bullet-proof vest thing- a cover that won' let any so' offa bitch kill me, eh? It can only be worn on those who are so ghetto that the kings don't need no bullets, eh, get it, dawg, eh, haha…"
"Foshizzle my nizzle," said Harry in awe.
"Sure did, homie. And while I'm still hot off the rack I would talk to the youth out there-remember kids,
Harry Potter got the beat That make your booty go(slap)
End Flashback
HarryRingo sat back in his chair, feet on the table, nodding his head slowly.
Hermione paused thoughtfully. "Ya, no…words…come to mind specifically, though you did look hot there, Harry."
Ron turned to Hermione. "Sure, 'mione, but all I wanta know is how you make that slapping sound…"
HarryRingo smirked nastily. "If you want to know, I can show you…"
Ron looked panicked. "Ah, Harry, no, that's fine, it's okay, I wasn't serious…Harry. Harry!"
But it was too late. Harry bounded up onto the table amid piles of food, drawing all attention in the Great Hall to himself. He thus yelled, dancing along to the beat:
Take that, rewind it backHarry Potter got the flow that make your booty go
Slap
Harry stopped. The entirety of the Great Hall stared blankly. Ron's face was buried, agonized, into his hands. Hermione was slowly massaging her temples. Harry giggled nervously into the silence. "Er…sorry…that's gotten kind of monotonous..."
Peace out, Hogtown!