A/N: Hey, it's me again. This is the last pre-written chapter! After this, it'll get more interesting for those of you who've already read this thing once.
DISCLAIMER: I'm not JKR, nor do I own her. I didn't invent Spell Check or Botox, and I don't own Lays Potato Chips, Tony the Tiger, Frosted Flakes, or Calvin and Hobbes. So get over it.
The students were ushered into the dining hall, and the first-year students were amazed to see that the ceiling was…painted to look like the sky outside! (Bet you weren't expecting that! It gets better, I promise)
That's a really realistic looking paint-job. It looks just like there's no ceiling at all! Impressed, Harry rushed off to sit with his fellow marshmallow-impaired Gryffindors. Just to make things interesting, Harry sat down between Ron and the bushy-haired girl. Ron was staring at the paper plates in front of him anxiously, and the girl was spouting off random tidbits about nature that were entirely made up.
"…and this one time, I read in a book that beavers are, like, cannibals or something—but only on Wednesdays! Isn't that, like, totally weird?" The girl appeared to be talking to the ceiling in a dazed sort of manner. Harry tapped the boy across from him on the shoulder and asked, "Who is that girl?"
"That's Hermione Granger. She's here because she's got an extremely rare and severe form of ADD. It's actually kind of sad. I'm a CIT, so I know these things. For instance, see that guy over there?" The boy pointed at a nervous-looking counselor, and Harry nodded. "That's Counselor Quarrel.
A/N: Once again, names brought to you by Spell Check.
"He went to Vegas and lost it all. He didn't even keep the shirt on his back He had to sell illegal Botox to make a living until he could find a real job… it's a pity what happened to that Malfunction boy… Anyway, he also has Tourette Syndrome and epilepsy, so the only job that he could possibly get was working here, and that's only because Dumbledore is too stupid to realize what idiots most of his teachers are. Of course, I'm a CIT, so I know all about it. Dumbledore tells the CITs everything…. I guess he just really appreciates our influence in matters such as—" It appeared that he was about to say something more when Ron interrupted him.
"Percy, nobody cares about you being a CIT! I'm so sick of hearing about it! So just SHUT UP!" Ron's eyes turned a violent shade of violet and green jets erupted from them once more, this time towards the ceiling. However, something strange happened—the rays didn't cause any holes! Frustrated, Ron shot more jets at the elusive ceiling, but nothing happened. Thoroughly embarrassed, Percy turned to Ron and said,
"You ignoramus! Of all of our siblings, you're quite possibly the dumbest. There is no ceiling there! There were budget cuts this year so that the CITs could all get matching T-shirts, so they broke up the ceiling and sold the wood as scrap! You know, it's a good thing that Dumbledore trusts us CITs with important things like this because otherwise who knows what would happen…" Percy continued, gesturing wildly, but nobody other than Hermione seemed to be paying any attention. Subdued, Ron sat down, and everyone in the room immediately got really bad sunburns, due to the fact that Ron's telekinetic powers had just completely destroyed the ozone layer. Trying to ignore the third degree burns covering most of his body, HarryThankfully, Harry's attention was grabbed by the sight of an old guy with a weird hat tapping on his paper cup in a poor attempt to gain control. When this failed to get the camper's attention, the bitchy lady with the megaphone stood up and hollered, "CORK IT, YOU BRATS!" Once everyone had been sufficiently mentally scarred, the creepy old guy stood up.
"Hello! I am the great Albus Dumbledore! To all of our first years, allow me to make introductions to our fine staff members. All of you have met Hagrid, who is our bus driver and sports director." Hagrid jumped to his feet and waved to everybody. "Now, this," said Dumbledore, inclining his head towards the mean megaphone lady, "Is Counselor McGonagall. She is the very best swimming instructor there is. And this," Dumbledore paused and gestured at a scrawny, oily-skinned man who was wearing all black and eating a grapefruit, "is Counselor Snape. He will be teaching you all arts and crafts. Counselor Flitwick," a scarily short man waved cheerfully, "will be your cooking instructor. Counselor Sprout," Dumbledore indicated a dumpy sort of woman who was completely covered in dirt, "will be your hiking instructor! Over here," Dumbledore pointed at Quarrel, "is Counselor Quarrel. He will be teaching you interpretive dance. Also, I must mention that the Forbidden Forest is forbidden, except if you get punished. Now, let us feast upon our delightful meal of overcooked meat!"
"Umm… Is he a bit mad?" asked Harry to no one in particular. Although the question was asked to no one in particular, Percy saw fit to answer it anyway.
"Well, one in a position of authority like mine tends not to insult his employer, but, yes, he is a bit mad. Want some potato chips?" Harry gladly snatched the bag of Lays out of Percy's hands and inhaled the contents in under thirty seconds. A plate of sandwiches was being passed around, and Ron took one. Harry watched warily as he unwrapped it. Thankfully, there was no corned beef to be found, and everybody heaved a great sigh of relief and rubbed their sore sunburns. Nothing else interesting happened, unless you count Percy using the phrase "Dumbledore trusts the CITs because…" or "The CITs have so much responsibility when it comes to…" in every single sentence. When it was apparent that everyone had finished eating, Dumbledore stood up once more and made yet another, albeit smaller, speech.
"I most sincerely hope that everyone's dinner has been quite peachy keen! So now, it is my duty as head counselor to inform the first-years that Slytherin Cabin is on the right, Hufflepuff is straight ahead, Ravenclaw is behind the dining hall, next to the illegal marshmallow stick tent that you think I don't know about, and Gryffindors will be best off heading towards the left of the dining hall. If anyone has any concerns at all, please do not hesitate to locate your cabin's head counselor. Good night to you all!"
The plastic folding chairs were all knocked over in everyone's haste to get to the cabins and claim a good bunk for him or herself. Harry and Ron followed Percy to get to the Gryffindor cabin. To Harry's dismay, all of the "good" bunks appeared to be taken, but everyone scattered when Ron appeared, afraid of angering him, and thus aggravating their sunburns. Everyone immediately felt exhausted (much too tired to notice the sleeping powder under their pillows) and fell asleep within seconds.
Harry's head was filled with strange thoughts that somehow wormed his way into his dreams. He dreamt that Quarrel was about to inject some Botox into his scar, but then Snape attacked him. Suddenly, there was a flash of light and Harry woke up—completely refreshed and unaware of the possible foreshadowing that the author could be attempting to use. Harry sat upright in his bed, and then was smacked down again. Wow, thought Harry, this is just like being at home, except in a bunk bed, not a closet with a low celing! Without any hesitation at all, Harry and Ron rushed off to the dining hall, trying to avoid Hermione as they went.
"I swear to God, if I hear anything else about those god-damned beavers again, I'm gonna smack her upside the head!" Harry nodded in assent. The two new best friends entered the dining hall and grabbed some of those mini cardboard bowls of cereal that you can put the milk in with. Harry was relishing his Frosted Flakes when, all of a sudden, McGonagall grabbed her megaphone and hollered, "YOU BRATS HAD BETTER GET YOUR SCHEDULES NOW!" Ron shrugged at Harry, so they waited in line for about five and a half minutes. As they approached the cranky counselor, Hagrid stage-whispered in Harry's ear, "Psst! Come to my cabin later. Don't tell anyone! Oh, yeah, and you can bring your red-headed friend if you want to." Hagrid snuck off, which is a hard thing to pull off when you're on steroids, but he somehow managed it. Oblivious to the obviously suspicious activity going on around them, Harry and Ron continued waiting. Ron got bored, so he decided to scare some Gryffindor first-year girls by killing them with his laser-ray powers.
A/N: And that's my theory on why Hermione, Lavender, and Parvati don't have more roommates.
Finally, they were at the front of the line. McGonagall threw some papers at them and hollered into her megaphone, "NEXT!" Harry quickly skimmed through his papers until he found the one with his schedule on it. To his dismay, he had arts and crafts scheduled first. Harry hated arts and crafts. Ever since that noodle incident at school… He shuddered just thinking about it. Conveniently, Ron and Harry had the same exact schedules, so they frolicked happily off towards the Art Hall.
A/N: Yeah, this is getting less funny as it goes on. I'm going to work on that next time, I swear. Thanks for reading this far, and stay tuned!