Disclaimer: Sure, we own Harry Potter.Sure, we are making millions daily from our new novel, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. Sure, we're insane and delusional... But what's there to argue?

Okay, so you're probably suprised that this chapter is coming out. You probably thought we had discontinued the entire fic. But, no! Chronicles will always go on, no matter the large lapses of time between chapter publication!

Now, I know you probably want to read, strangle us, or find out what the hell this fic's all about right now...but let me pile you with excuses first.

Emmy: has been away for 20 days out of the past month...away from her darling computer...tear..and had to take a break after hbp came out...after she finished writing it...right...and emailed this to the other 2/3 of the writing ppl a full month ago, with instructions to update it...but she really isnt that angry...

Cocabella: just got back from 2 months in S. america...giver her a break-even though she had plenty of time to be writng fics...she has written a bit of a new one...an entirely different area...not a book(those are all the hints im giving ya!) that you can look foward to being posted sometime soon.

Charletto: has had various problems(as usual...jk, charletto), is preparing to transverse 3,000 miles to go to a boarding school this coming september, and has been busy with her other fanfic-which she is the main writer of. So now, hopefully, we'll all be able to take charge of one fic at least during the school year.

I, Emmy, will stick with my baby, chronicles.

Other wacko person, Charletto, will write the prune fic.

Yet another person who needs help, Cocabella, will write her new fic(i hope).

And we all inspire, influence, co-write, correct, add, or stare confusedly at eachother's fics. And because of that, we are the 3, not 1, sadlostogslightlymadsouls. And now, so you can stop reading this and get to the point, I will let you go. Enjoy. And review! Charletto has voiced the opinion that she thinks this is one of the best chapters yet. We'll hope you agree!

Harry woke up with a start, sitting up in his bed. Both hands covered his cherry-lipped prettyful mouth as he made every effort not to scream. Usually, he would have gladly done so, waking up his Gryffindor roommates . Harry was an awful cynic, and he had always had the suspicion that people around him slept to make themselves feel better, not to make him feel better. That was simply not fair. And besides, it pleased him to lie in bed, panting and writhing in pretend agony until his four roommates crowded around. Unfortunately, (in Harry's mind-icky place, but kind of cool because he's just a coolio-you person), he hadn't had many really exciting dreams since he saw Mr.Weasley bitten by a snake. Only Neville stood by Harry's bed and listened to the torment Harry had been in when he saw Pooh-bear up in that cage, so very far away, so round and yellow. Only Neville stuck around to hear Harry express his anger at seeing You-Know-Who hold that cage so very high above his head. Only Neville was stupid enough to believe Harry was cool anymore now that he was no longer Harry-Ringo.

But, right, Harry did not scream, could not scream, afraid that it would ruin him. Harry had finally taken it upon himself to organize a D.A. meeting. After his Harry-Ringo powers had disappeared, he figured he could use all the publicity he could get. At the meeting he assented to the idea of calling an agent to make a bloody commercial or something for charity, but decided to leave the cause he would support up to the bloody agent. Why anyone would want to help someone besides themselves was beyond him. I mean, people without jobs, living on sidewalks….yeech. Bums.

The rest of the meeting, Harry taught Dumbledore's Army how to raise one eyebrow and not the other, which he decided would be much more useful in battle than patronus-thingamajig. Anyways, everyone already knew what a great wizard and teacher he was. And it was clearly obvious that he would become the DADA teacher at the end of his seventh year, ending the one-year pattern they had been having. So what was the point?

So that night Harry had owled an agent, instructing Hedwig in that vague way of his and saying,

"Find me an agent."

To which Hedwig could only reply, "Chirp." Which of course made no sense, because the snowy owl is completely silent. Well, ok, she was a magical owl. Happy?

She stared into his beautiful green eyes which reminded her of the forest in which she had been born on the noon of the third day. Oh! Why couldn't this boy feel the same way for her as she did for him!

Two days later Hedwig had returned. Harry had pulled the note out of the porch on her leg and read it:

Bobo.

This message made Harry sadly sad and confusedly confused. Was "Bobo" an insult? He had been going for the Boho look these days in his clothing. Had someone thought he wasn't doing it right, and decided to call him a "Bobo"? Sure, they had called him a basket-case, a nut, a kooky koo-koo head, and even…Harry couldn't bear to think of it…but he knew that they called him…oh, it was so horrible!-but he had heard them call him…POO-ON-A-STICK! Oh, the shame!

Harry was also confusedelled, rather like a heffalump. Who was this agent? How did he know that Harry was constantly updating his wardrobe to the latest Muggle fashions of the season? Just when would he get here?

Then, because Harry was a nut, he yelled and hit Hedwig top-side the head for not finding him a better agent.

Less then a day later, his agent had arrived. He had waited for him in the great hall, assuming he would enter there. And he didn't. After 5 hours of trying to tan on the front lawn, hoping to see him there, he resignedly headed up to the common room. Maybe the agent wasn't coming 'till tomorrow.

He settled down to do his potions paper on one of those super-comfy sofa's you wished you had. About halfway through his sheet of parchment, he heard something. He ignored it.

Probably just in your head, Harry old chap. You know what it's like in there nowadays.

Harry heard the sound again, and looked up from his paper. It seemed to be coming from the chimney above the fireplace.

Probably just your imagination, Harry. But…if it isn't? Yes, Harry? Well, (Harry thought in his mind really quickly, because it was quite embarrassing) if it isn't I hope it's a squirrel!

Harry's curiosity was now so aroused that he had to get up from the sofa, and started pacing around

I hope it comes down soon! I have to go potty!

If you're so stupid as to want a squirrel to come down the chimney, why don't you get it yourself?

Well, that wouldn't be fair play, would it? Usually when squirrels come down the chimney, Ron and I chase after them until we catch 'em. Then, if Hermione's not around, we eat them.

Raw?

Well, of course! Unless they're orange. Then we stuff 'em.

And no one disapproves of this?

Come to think of it, if Hermione's around, we usually stuff the live one down Malfoy's pants. Harry smiled. He- I mean she doesn't mind that much.

That's kind of harsh, though, don't you think?

"Bobo."

No, it's not. They don't serve lobsters until the middle of second term, so we can't really use those. And he's been a ferret, so I think he can talk to them.

"Bobo."

What if Voldemort started off just stuffing squirrels down other students' pants? Huh? And now he's the supreme dark lord. Is that what you're going to become?

If he did, I'd have more respect for the wanker. He can be such a jerk-off, though. I doubt I'll end up like him. I have to kill the bloody imbecile, anyway. Remember?

"Bobo."

Will you stop making those dratted noises?

What? I wasn't making them. I thought you were making them.

"Bobo. BoboBobo."

Um, no.

Well, I'm not making them either!

I think there's someone else in the room.

Oh, the students? Don't bother about them. They're used to me talking to my alter-ego's.

No, I mean someone else.

Is it a squirrel?

Don't think so.

Chainmail!

Sorry, kid. I think it's your chimney monster though. Look there.

Harry looked at where his alter-ego had pointed. There seemed to be a weird lump covered in ashes sitting in the chimney. Upon closer inspection (poking it with his wand, as it were), it seemed to be the thing making the weird noises.

The thing moved. Harry took a step back. The thing unfolded itself and shuffled out of the chimney.

"What-what are you?" asked Harry nervously.

"Bobo," said the thing, taking a piece of newspaper out of his jacket and wiping a bit of his face off with it, revealing dark skin, equally dark eyes, and an almost toothless grin.

"Right," said Harry, taking a few more steps back as the thing approached him. He still hadn't gotten the attention of any of his classmates. Harry did strange things on a regular basis, and they were used to ignoring him.

"Bobo. Bobo." Said what Harry had now determined to be a man.

Harry, conquering the twin powers of a short attention span and ADD, remembered something.

I've seen that word before somewhere! "Bobo." But where?

Let's think, Harry…You were looking for an agent and you got a letter…

Stay out of this, Phil.

It came to Harry. "I was looking for an agent and got a letter! And it said "Bobo." on it!" Harry said brightly.

And I thought that they had been making fun of my now-known-to-be-perfect style. That's a bit of a relief. He thought cheerfully.

"Bobo," said the thing, pulling a sooty hand out of his pocket.

"Well, it's nice to meet you. I assume you're my agent?" said Harry politely.

"Bobobobobobobobo." Nodded the thing.

"Right then. Here, follow me. We'll get you cleaned up after we walk around a bit and get acquainted."

They exited the Gryffindor common room, and walked towards the great hall in silence. Harry groaned when he saw that he would have to walk by Malfoy and his troop on the way there. Think of all the painful blows they would give his new agent. He didn't want the thing to get the wrong idea of Hogwarts.

"Okay, those people up there-see them? The albino one? Well just walk by them quietly. Don't do anything to get their attention." He whispered in Bobo's ear.

"Bobo," the thing nodded.

As they walked by, Malfoy cried out, "Harry! Dear God! Dobby has better boho style than you!"

Pansy sneered and glared at the thing, which was emitting more frantic Bobo noises, "Yea…even that thing has better style."

Harry glanced at Malfoy's clearly expensive outfit and Pansy's layers of vintage jewelry, and then looked down at his carefully layered colored plastic trash bags.

"But-but I thought boho was supposed to be bohemian hobo style?" he said meekly.

The whole great hall burst into laughter, Malfoy's crowd doubling over and hooting.

"Well…you've got the hobo look down-pat, Potter," snickered Snape, as he passed into the great hall.

"Yea…Professor Snape has way better fashion sense than you!" laughed Pansy.

A single tear slithered down the-boy-who-lived's face. He dropped to his knees, raising his arms and face to the ceiling.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Bobo smiled and patted the quivering boy. "Bobo…." He held out a trashbag/hankerchief to Harry, who took it, used it extensively, and then laid it atop his already extensive collection of garbage apparel. He looked querulously at his new agent.

"Er…snuffle…do you mind if I take this….my fashionsnuffle….I'd love some help from a master…snuffle…."

Bobo smiled generously. "Bobo," he said with benevolence.

"Snuffle…danks…."

Bobo…thought Bobo, shaking his head. Translation: Poor boy. Poor boy…We're going to have to do some work on this one. He nodded and winked to the threesadlostogslightlymadsouls, who were hiding behind one of the Great Hall's gargantuan doors. They smiled and winked back, performing their special secret nonexistent threesadlostogslightlymadsouls handshake, and got to work, feverishly huddling over their computer monitors.