A/N: Thanks to everyone for the great reviews. Glad I could spew out blasphemous rants and raves at the expense of hilarity. I'm truly honored. Just a few names to throw out there: Lulunz, imakeeper, RobynLesko, akina-kisa... if I've forgotten anybody, Avada-Kedavra me.
Potter,
See me in my office. 8 PM, sharp.
Profizzle Snizzle
Harry swallowed hard. A meeting with Snape, who now apparently was familiar with ebonics, could be devastating. He could barely eat all day. He fooled Ron, but when Hermione asked him what was doing his head in, he could tell she didn't believe his excuse that he was on the rag. Couldn't fancy why--she used it all the time; why couldn't he? Girls.
Finally the time came and Harry entered the dungeons. Snape was waiting patiently at his desk, twirling a long quill at the tips of his longer fingers. "Potter," he said coldly.
Harry stuttered. "Professor... I... I... that stain on your cloak was a complete accident, I swear!" Snape said nothing. "I didn't even know it was yours! I thought it was Dumbledore's! Honest!"
"Silence!" Snape bellowed. "Mr Potter, your beloved Dumbledore had cloaks similar to mine. It's true that we shared many a manly shopping trip. He was always so stylish, that man... Looked great in leather pants, let me tell you that. But that's aside from the p-p-p-pizzle. Point! I said point!"
"Professor, I wasn't aware you knew ebonics," Harry said softly.
"I don't!" The greasy man roared. "It's just... a little problem I've always had... like bed-wetting, except ten times cooler." Snape looked solemnly to his lap. "I think you know why you're here. And no, it doesn't have anything to do with my soiled cloaks, but thank you for telling me; now I'll make sure to no longer wear clothes. It was my only cloak." Harry looked confused, and yet, slightly aroused. "Yes, Potter," he said with a hint of boredom in his voice, "I'm a hobo. Okay? There, I said it. Tell me, were you at all surprised?"
Harry gulped. "Yes, sir."
"You wonder where I picked up ebonics, Potter? I'll tell you. When I was a child, before I came to Hogwarts, I lived on the streets of London for quite some time. You know, sewing cloaks from tablecloths I found in dumpsters... It was a wretched experience, but I'll tell you, I was the chic-est hobo around. By nine, I'd lived out the muggle musical Rent in its entirety. Except without the AIDS. Well, okay, that's a lie; I do have AIDS. But without the shitty music."
Harry stared at his professor in amazement. "I-I-I'm sorry, sir. I guess I underestimated your hobo abilities." He looked down shamefully.
"You betchyo arse you did, boy! Er, excuse me. Yes, you did, Mr Potter. As did your father and his friends. But let's put bitterness aside. They're dead now; that's all that matters." Snape smiled complacently.
"Um, professor? Is that all you wanted to tell me? What a waste of a precious ten minutes I could have spent with Ced-er, I mean, set. Setting the table. Setting the Gryffindor table." He thought he saw a glimmer of passion in Snape's cold, beady eyes upon the brief mention of Cedric.
"No, Potter, I was wondering whether or not you knew anything about this." Snape threw a videotape across the desk.
Harry read the title aloud, but had a bit of trouble, as he was largely illiterate. "Hairy... Potter... hey that's my name!" He smiled triumphantly. "But it's spelled wrong..." The boy looked confused.
"Potter!"
"Okay, okay. It says: Hairy Potter... and... th-th-th-" he was having a great deal of trouble on this particular word, "the! The! Hairy Potter and the... Half... Bloody... Pork! Hairy Potter and the Half Bloody Pork!" Then it dawned on him. "This sounds too much like a chick-flick to me."
"Potter! It's pornography, and it stars your fat cousin and his potential dinner, and it's mocking me!" Snape bellowed deeply from his gut.
"Oh, yes, professor. I'm already on it. I'm going to find a way to fix him." Harry paused. "But it is peculiar... Professor? How did you know what it was about?"
"Uh... er... That's none of your bloody business, Harry P. Er, sorry, Potter. What I do in my spare time with Malf–malfunctioning muggle tapes–is beyond the capacity of your simple mind." Harry nodded his head, knowingly. My, I never knew Snape to be so technologically inclined as to be able to fix muggle tapes! He thought. "Potter, do you understand the seriousness of this issue? I doubt you do." He paused, clearly bored. "You need not merely fix your porky cousin, to pardon a pun. You must kill him. I order that."
Harry stood there, astonished. "But... but... I'm too weak to conjure a killing curse!"
"I am aware of this. Thus, you must kill him by muggle means." Snape leaned over to whisper in Harry's ear. "I know a place where muggles almost always die. You can hold him hostage there."
"Where, professor?" Harry stared at Severus intently.
"Gunpoint," he whispered satanically, and by then Harry had made his decision to kill Dudley.