What the Ministry Doesn't Want You to Know.

spazZy dOOfus

DISCLAIMER:

Nothing is mine, blah, blah, blah. Except the plot, and I don't even know why I'd want to take credit for it, it's stupid anyway. J.K.Rowling, props to you, you're a genius.

A/N:

I realised after submitting the first chapter (if you can call it that), I forgot to add something into the warnings. This fic will probably contain a lot of inside jokes that only specsatron can fully appreciate. So if you don't understand some stuff, I apologise. If you would like to understand some stuff, just ask me, I'm a nice person, I'll tell you, promise.

Chapter Two: Technically It's Chapter One… slaps across face Quiet You.

It was a very sunny Saturday, and all was well at Hogwarts. Actually, most people would not call it well, however for Hogwarts it was normal. Harry Potter rose from his four poster bed.

'I wonder if anyone will notice me today', he thought to himself.

Making his way to his trunk, he pulled out his outfit for the day.

'Nobody notices me anyway, I may as well blend into the background', he said to nobody, because everyone had left early to avoid having to see or speak to him.

Having said this, he pulled out his black Ramones t-shirt (he may be a loser, but he still had good taste in music), a pair of black pinstripe pants, and he put a black sweat band around his arm, to symbolise the mourning he was feeling for himself (he always felt like the world was against him, like god, get over yourself, the world doesn't revolve around you). He spotted a pair of Vans under Neville's bed (who knew, the fat, clumsy boy had taste) and pulled them on. For good measure, he took Seamus's belt too. It was white with skulls (skulls yeh, rock on). For those of you playing at home, Harry is a compulsive thieving bastard.

Harry made his way to the common room. When he got there, he said loudly,

'It is I, the great and wonderful Harry Potter. You know, the Harry Potter who saved the school from imminent closure by slaying a basilisk. The Harry Potter who saved the entire wizarding world from the wrath of Lord Voldemort (Harry had defeated him earlier in the year)'.

For five bonus points, Harry is a shameless self promoter.

'My new guise must be working already', he thought, for when he made his entrance each morning, people would at least acknowledge his presence by telling him to shut up. Today, however, they ignored him completely.

He made his way glumly to the lounges by the fire and sat down heavily. Suddenly, a thought struck him. Hard. He rubbed his forehead. He made the decision to blend into the background, and it was working. This cheered him up. He decided it was going to be a good day for a change.

Just then, he felt as thought he was struck by another thought. He realised it was actually a scrunched up piece of paper someone had thrown at him. He turned around, but everyone was still ignoring him.

Unfolding the paper, he saw it showed a drawing of a crowd of people with their back turned on a blank space labelled as Harry Potter. At this he started crying, wailing loudly with his face in his hands. Someone threw a vase at him, but he was sobbing to hard to notice.

Somebody, however, had noticed Harry (for once). This someone had watched his movements since he came down the stairs, and had watched on while he got smashed in the head with a vase (she could of stopped it, but why would she… it was hilarious).

This somebody, was Hermione. Sure, he was her best friend, but he had turned into such a pussy lately, always whinging and bitching about something, so she had taken to ignoring him like everyone one else (which she secretly loathed… she hated conformity). Today was different though. All of a sudden he was so… desirable. Black was definitely his colour. It also happened to be her colour. Actually, as far as she was concerned, black was the only colour.

She made her way over and sat next to him. Up close, she could see there was definitely hope for him yet. He already had the 'I don't give a shit' look down pat. Or maybe that was the after effect of being slammed by a heavy object, she wasn't sure. Either way, it was good.

Harry felt movement beside him. Drying his eyes on his sweat band, he looked around. Upon seeing Hermione, he shrieked like a little girl, and fell to the ground. Hermoine just rolled her eyes. Harry had grown so accustomed to Hermione running in the opposite direction whenever she saw him, he was shocked to find her sitting beside him.

Harry noticed at once she was dressed like him, and wondered if maybe she wanted to fade out too. She had on a black shirt that said 'Emotions are Overrated', black shorts with a skull on the back pocket (no idea how he saw that when she was sitting down, but umm… skulls yeh, rock on), a white studded belt and her favourite shoes of all time, black lo-cut Converse All-Stars (a/n: my favourite shoes too!). Her nails were black, her make-up was black, and her hair was black with pink streaks. (a/n: I realise this is all very descriptive, but I wanted everyone to have a vivid mental picture of what's going down, so yeh, ROCK ON!). In Harry's opinion she was looking pretty hot. He could feel himself getting excited- his toes were spasming involuntarily. That always happened when he was horny. He hoped she wouldn't notice.

'Hermione, when did you get your lip pierced?' Harry asked.

'Shut up', she said, slapping him across the back of the head. Harry winced, and was on the verge of tears again when Hermione handed him a tissue.

'Stop blubbering and listen, we have business to attend to', she said fiercely, scaring him and causing him to stop whimpering at once.

'Since when have you been a punk rocker Harry?' she asked, now circling him like a hawk, kicking him occasionally.

'What do you mean?' he asked timidly.

He is such a pussy, Hermione thought, I've got a lot of work to do.

'Let's see. Black clothes, Ramones shirt, Vans and skulls', she began, 'Clearly you are a punk rocker, just like me.'

'That's not really wha…', he started, but she slapped him again. This time me managed to hold back the tears.

'Be quiet. We have to much work to do to be wasting our time talking.' At this she lead him up the girls staircase. For some reason, they allowed him up. Hermione figured it was because he was being such a pansy; the stairs thought he was a girl.

They entered Hermiones dorm. Parvati and Lavender were making out. Harry's toes went into overdrive. They insisted they were practicing CPR (cardio pulmonary resusitation for those of you playing at home… I'm so smart sometimes). Normally, Hermione may have been tempted to play along, pretending to be a drowning victim who needed resuscitating (she was just a smidgey bit bi-curious). Right now though, she didn't have time for their antics, and turfed them forcibly from the room, locking the door behind her.

SECONDS LATER…

'It's time', Hermione said to Harry, looking him over once more before unlocking the dormitory door. They descended the stairs, entering the common room in one of those slow-motion moments. At least that's what they thought was happening.

''Why are they walking so fucking slow?' some random Gryffindor said to another.

They paused halfway across, arms crossed, looks of complete indifference on their faces. Harry gave one of the Creevy brothers (who cares which one, they're both annoying little pricks) the crazy eye. He ran away squealing like a little piggy.

Hermione had to admit, she'd done fricken good, even if she did say so herself. For a while, she thought it might have been easier just to give up. He kept crying (some people just cant handle a little peroxide in their eye… pussies), but she'd managed to slap that out of him. But now, he looked good. No, scratch that. He looked damn good.

His hair, black with a bright orange chunk at the front, styled into a faux-hawk (for those of you playing at home, a faux-hawk is a mohawk, but without shaving any of your hair off).his nails were black, he had black eye make-up on (in, of course, a very manly fashion) and she had given him one of her many studded wrist cuffs, which went well with his sweat band. She had even convinced him to let her pierce his eyebrow, lip and tongue. And of course they, being magic, were able to use healing charms to make them all better straight away (Harry didn't even need any bandaids).

Well, at least people are noticing me now, thought Harry, as somebody shouted 'You're a wanker Potter.' but instead of running off crying like the pussy he used to be, he picked up somebody's Transfiguration book, throwing it at them and saying, 'Piss off prep.' the heavy book hit them in the earlobe, and they had to be rushed to the hospital wing for emergency liver surgery.

It was after this that they noticed Ron had just climbed through the portrait hole. It occurred to them both, and the author (a/n: that's me ) … no it's not, it's me… pushes over shut it you…) that Ron hadn't had any kind of mention so far, and it was about time he turned up. They made their way over to him.

A/N:I realise this chapter wasn't that interesting, but I promise it gets better. I have the next chapter written, but I wont post it until I have umm, lets say, 15 reviews. Yes, that's right, I'm going to be another one of these review nazis. I don't care if you tell me how much of a dick face I am, just as long as you review. Ta ta. Okay, so I shouldn't be so conceited as to think 15 people would even want to read my story let alone review it. So 5 reviews will do.