The Magical tale of the Mischievous Milfoils
Disclaimer: You know the drill. I don't own Harry Potter, Ronnie, Herm-pants, or Willy Wonka. That's right. HERMY-PANTS. (Don't own any Kanye West songs either.)
Yay to Megan, my only reviewer. OF COURSE SHE'S A MUGGLE… what are you talking about? I mean… those people aren't ANYTHING like us, right?
And to that person, Sir Lancelot… do you like… bowling? Cause I think I saw you bowling with Voldemort.
Oh yeah, and people, if you want to have non-fanfic related conversations, please keep it to my email or AIM. Both can be found on my profile.
Chapter Seven: Ronye's Rap
Harry woke up, rather confused. He was on a train seat, clutching a piece of dark green yarn. Where did the yarn come from? Why was he here? Why did the train smell like sheep?
"Good morning, Starshine!" Dumbledore twinkled down at him. "The Earth says… 'Hello!'"
Harry promptly fainted.
Ron prodded Harry in the shoulder when it was time to get up and go into the hospital. "Wake up, H-Dawg!" he said. "'S time to go! Go go go!" he shouted. Harry trudged in, very unwillingly.
Being now at the hospital, Harry, Ron, and Dumbledore tried to get Harry help for his drunkenness. They expressed his condition to the witch at the reception desk, and she sent them to an almost-full room to fend for themselves. The trio stood quietly in a corner. Harry was playing with a piece of yarn stolen from the brown-haired girl's scarf, and Ron was investigating his lemon. As they were called in to be seen by a healer, he gave it one last sniff and put it in his pocket.
The visit with the healer was brief. He just gave Harry a jab in the head with his wand, and, claiming Harry was all better, confiscated his booze and sent them on their way.
They were almost out of the building when they spotted a girl they knew. Lavender Brown, with long, blonde pigtails, was sitting next to her mother in the waiting room. Her mother, an older version of Lavender, was sitting, looking very understandably unhappy, with the stem of an artichoke stuck up her nose.
Lavender was looking very different than she had during the previous year. Under her regular Hogwarts' school robes she was wearing a miniskirt and very small tank top. Her legs were pencil-thin, and she was looking rather well-endowed in the rear end area.
She ran up to Ron and tackled him to the ground. "RONYE I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!" she gushed, without any appropriate punctuation. "THANKS TO YOUR WORKOUT PLAN I'M THE ENVY OF ALL MY FRIENDS!" she squealed in his face.
Harry looked rather indignant. "Whose workout plan? Ronye's? Who's Ronye? Aren't you thinking of… Kanye?" He brandished the yarn in her face.
"I REMEMBER IT SAYING RONYE! I DO I DO I DO!" Lavender babbled.
"Whatever, yo," Ron said, and exited the building.
Scene change, yo
Voldemort stood, observing a shelf of round globes. Selecting one, he sat down with his blonde-pony tailed friend. "I really don't see why you didn't just off them all while you had the chance!" he exclaimed. "Really, Lucius, why'd you have to curse them like that? Wouldn't it just be easier to…" he continued, but a smaller blonde boy pointed to a television above them.
"Your turn to bowl, Mr. Dark Lord," he stammered.
Voldemort hoisted himself up out of his chair. "Already time, Draco?" he inquired. "Ah, well," he said, and, clutching his neon-pink bowling ball that he had selected earlier, he strode up to the lane.
Bending over, he pushed the ball towards the pins. It got halfway there, and stopped.
"Really, Lord Voldemort, you should strengthen up," Lucius said. With a flick of his wand, the bowling ball spun towards the pins and knocked them over in a strike.
They looked up at the scoreboard. Voldemort had ten strikes, Lucius had ten spares, and Poor Little Draco was stuck with zero.
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Not that long, but I had to write something.
We went bowling. My name was Voldemort. I had a pink ball. That explains THAT.
The end!
