Disclaimer: This was not written by me, I disavow any knowledge of this chapter . . . again.
The Return of Fudge . . . Kinda
"Wait," Harry paused. "Wasn't Fudge killed in a mysterious accident?"
"He came back as a zombie or something," Hermione shrugged. "You should really keep track of these things Harry."
"I suppose," Harry frowned. "Zombie?"
"Or maybe it wasn't really him that got killed or maybe it was all a dream," Hermione was starting to get annoyed. "Soap operas do it all the time so why can't we?"
"I guess . . ."
"And now back to our regularly scheduled fic," Luna entered and ended the conversation.
IIIIIIIIII
"I have some exciting news," the evil lawyer smiled. "You won all your lawsuits and you're even richer . . . horay for us."
"Yay," the girls cheered.
"Wow," Harry blinked. "That was easy."
"Only took a few chapters," the Lawyer nodded. "Not too bad if I do say so myself."
"Good job evil lawyer," Harry smiled. "I guess I can cancel that hit I had out on you."
"What hit?" The lawyer frowned.
"No hit," Harry gestured behind his back to his all female ninja force telling them to cancel their mission. "Just joking."
"Oh . . . ok," the lawyer shrugged. "Now that I've bankrupted the dark lord and all of his minions . . . what should I do now?"
"Sue Dumbledore?" Harry suggested.
"Sure . . . why not," the lawyer nodded. "And I'm sure I can sue a lot of other people too, Snape, your relatives, the newspapers, the Minister, the Ministry, and maybe that moron of a divination teacher."
"Have fun," Harry nodded. "Now lets all go get ice cream."
"Yay," the girls cheered.
Thirty minutes later, a ravenous horde of Harry's Harem girls descended on Diagon Alley's only ice cream shop . . . there would be no survivors. And by no survivors I mean that they ate all the ice cream, so I guess that the whole no survivors thing refers to the ice cream and not any sort of life . . . unless of course you consider ice cream a living thinking organism which I do. You see, I think food tastes better when it has a mother that will miss it. Yes, I want my food to have traveled a slaughter house conveyor belt and then get chopped into little pieces by members of the meat packers union . . . or non union, a neighborhood butcher is just as good . . . actually a neighborhood butcher is better, you know the guy that's chopping your food up and if need be you can go to his house and kill him if he gives you a bad cut. Then you can take it to his butcher shop and grind it up into hamburger meat and sell it to dumb tourists as long pork . . . not that I've ever done that . . . um . . . let's just get back to the story shall we? Why don't you all just forget I ever said anything?
So . . . as I was saying . . .
The girls filled the ice cream shop and it was doing the best business it had in years, their entire years supply was sold out in a matter of minutes.
"Harry," Dumbledore burst into the room. "You must go live with your relatives."
"Lemon drop?" Harry held out his hand.
"No," Dumbledore managed to resist. "I know that you've done something to that poor innocent lemon drop . . . I know that you've somehow managed to bring it over to your side, it'll betray me if I eat it . . . oh how I wish I could take it from your hand and . . . "
"Stop," Harry held up his hand. "Bad enough that you had such a long monologue but you looked like you were about to burst into song."
"Yes . . . well," Dumbledore reddened.
"How about I buy you some lemon drop flavored ice cream?" Harry raised an eyebrow, "I couldn't possibly have poisoned that."
"I suppose," Dumbledore's will crumbled.
"Here you are Headmaster," Fortescue placed a large bowel in front of Dumbledore.
"Thank you," Dumbledore took a large bite of the ice cream. "It's very goo . . "
Everyone . . .most . . .some . . . a couple people winced as the Headmaster passed out and hit the counter with an audible thump.
"I thought you said it wasn't poisoned?" Hermione frowned, "and I saw Mr. Fortescue make it?"
"You think I'm dumb enough to anger my newest and largest source of income?" Fortescue asked with a grin, "you girls are like a plague of locusts . . . you eat everything in my shop. He pays for it, I'll be able to retire in fifteen minutes if I want to."
"Oh," the girls nodded. That made sense.
"Let me just get my wand out," Harry grinned. "And we cast a few shaving charms . . . Lav, could you style this?"
"Sure Harry," Lavender nodded. "Handelbar?"
"You got it," Harry grinned.
"Let me help," one of the other girls suggested.
"Me too," cried another.
IIIIIIIIII
"My head," Dumbledore blinked. "He did it again . . . where am I?" The Headmaster looked around the room, "it appears to be a urine soaked alley behind a seedy bar."
"Watch what you call a urine soaked alley," Fortescue glared at Dumbledore from behind his counter. "If you're gonna say things like that about my shop then you can just get out."
"Fine," Dumbledore rose to his feet . . . why did his face feel so cold?
Taking a few unsteady steps out of the shop, Dumbledore looked around the alley.
"Who are you?" A terrified Auror attempted to draw his wand.
"I am Albus Dumbledore," Dumbledore smiled. "Don't you recognize me?"
"Dumbledore would never have a handlebar mustache the Auror protested . . . you can't be him." The Auror shook his head, "and that black frock coat . . . that top hat . . . you just can't be him."
"Top hat," Dumbledore looked up . . . yep he was wearing a black top hat. "Frock coat?" Dumbledore looked down, "he was wearing a pair of black pants and a frock coat. "Handlebar mustache?" Dumbledore reached up to feel his face and . . . I'm sure you can guess where I'm going with this.
At that moment, a group of reporters stumbled out of one of the shops . . . let's say the pet store.
"Oh my god," a reporter screamed. "Look at that mustache . . . Dumbledore must be evil."
"He was hiding it under all that facial hair . . . it all makes sense," another nodded. "Let's get him."
"No," another reporter disagreed. "That would ruin the normal stereotype about the wizarding world being made up of cowards . . . let's write nasty things about him."
"Yeah," the other reporters agreed.
"I thought goatees were evil," Harry mused as he put his shaving equipment away.
"Don't forget that the wizarding world is behind the times," Hermione reminded him. "Goatees didn't become evil until the sixties, the wizarding world is still stuck in a time when large handle bar mustaches were a sign of evil. Where the hell did you get that shaving equipment? I saw you use a charm to shave Dumbledore."
"Then why didn't Voldemort ever grow a mustache?" Harry shook his head in confusion. "And I got the shaving equipment for something else . . . as to where I was hiding it . . . I didn't, one of the other girls had it in her purse for some reason . . . along with an anti tank weapon, I don't know why she had that in her purse . . . or how."
"We keep all kinds of things in our purses," Tonks shrugged. "If we told you how it worked your head would explode . . . I have no idea why Volde didn't grow a mustache."
"Alas," Dumbledore entered the conversation. "Tom was never able to grow any facial hair after an accident in my class . . . I'm afraid that it also raised his voice a few octaves, much too high to pull off the traditional dark lord evil voice."
"There he is," an impromptu angry mob had formed to take care of Dumbledore. "Get him."
"If you'll excuse me," Dumbledore dodged a pitchfork thrust. "I must get going." With that, Dumbledore fled in terror from the angry mob.
"That was kinda fun," Harry smiled. "We're going to have to do this every year."
"Did you ever decide what you were going to do this summer?" Ginny smiled.
"Yeah," Harry nodded. "I'm gonna go destroy some of the dark lord's . . . hor . . . whore . . . whore Xs."
"The dark lord runs a brothel?" The girls blinked.
"No," Harry shook his head. "That's just some strange mystical name for some soul hiding . . . thing."
"Oh," the girls shrugged. "Have fun."
"I will," Harry smiled.
"And don't stay away too long," Cho smiled. "I just got this book on Chinese alchemy . . . and it has a way to live forever. We need your help for that."
"You want me to make a Philosopher's Stone?" Harry blinked.
"No," Cho shook her head. "It has another more . . . strenuous way to live forever."
"Let me see," Hermione grabbed the book. "Most of these positions are in Hogwarts a History . . .but that's a new one, so's that one . . . I'm gonna have to borrow this book."
"Hogwarts a History?" Cho blinked.
"Let us see," the Patil twins grabbed the book. "We've got an entire library of this stuff at home, you want us to bring it?"
Everyone just stared at the Patil twins.
"Hey," the twins smiled. "We're from India, all sorts of these books come from India . . . and our grandmother is a perv."
"Ah," everyone nodded and things went back to normal.
IIIIIIIIII
"And that's everything," Draco smirked at the Judge. "I'm guilty, my friends are guilty and my father is guilty of lots of things. I've confessed all my crimes and given information on everyone else, send me to Azkaban." This was sure to get him out of that damn marriage, granted he'd be in prison but it was still better then binging married to weasel.
"In light of your testimony," the Judge smiled. "And due to an unexpected request for clemency . . . we find you guilty of all charges but sentence you to no time and release you into the custody of your future husband."
"What?" Draco was close to tears.
"Isn't that wonderful Cissy?" The voice of Draco's aunt nearly caused him to wet himself.
"It sure is Bella," Narcissa agreed. "She loved her Ron so much that she testified in court."
Well, Draco mused to herself. At least the weasel isn't here.
"Why did you drag me here," Ron's mother pulled him into the court room. "I was happy hiding under my bed, why did you have to take that from me."
"We're here to give your future wife some moral support at her trial," Molly snapped. "Now behave."
"Trial?" Ron perked up, "Draco is going to prison?"
"No," the Judge smiled down. "And you're a lucky boy, she turned herself in and testified against several prominent wizards to prove her love for you."
"What?" Ron passed out.
"What?" Draco started crying.
"Isn't that sweet," Molly smiled. "They're so happy that they can be together for ever and ever."
"Forever?" Draco started crying harder and Ron . . . um . . . passed out more?
IIIIIIIIII
"Why did you write that letter to the Judge at Draco's trial?" Ginny asked as the group decended on Diagon Alley's one wand shop.
"Spite," Harry replied. "I'm not done getting revenge on him."
"And Ron?" Ginny blinked.
"Are you saying that you're not in favor of Ron's torment?" Harry raised an eyebrow.
"I'm not saying that," Ginny shook her head. "I'm all in favor of Ron suffering a bit more . . . Prince Ron likes to hog the bathroom. I was wondering why you wanted him to suffer."
"I told you," Harry shook his head sadly. "He snores."
"I know that," Ginny nodded. "But you've been tormenting him for years . . . are you trying to tell me that it was just because of some snoring?"
"Years of snoring," Harry corrected. "And there might have been a few other things . . . and he may have challenged me to a prank war about two hours before I came back in time . . . and I may be ahead because there isn't a bigger prank then forcibly engaging him to Draco."
"Oh," Ginny shrugged. "Whatever . . . why did we come here anyway? Don't you already have a wand?"
"That's what I wanted to know," Ollivander came out of the shadows. "You're wand hasn't suffered some misfortune has it?"
"No," Harry shook his head. "But since it's Tom's brother wand . . . well, you know."
"Yes . . . I do," Ollivander nodded. "So you want another wand?"
"I was hoping to get something a bit . . . unusual," Harry smiled.
"Really?" Ollivander leaned forward, "what did you have in mind?"
Fifteen minutes later, Harry exited Ollivander's walking in front of his harem. Clenched in his left hand was his new mahogany pimp cane . . . with a large engraved silver nob.
"A pimp cane?" Hermione glanced at Harry's new accessory.
"It can cast spells and it's stylish," Harry nodded. "What more could I ask for?"
"So what should we do now?" Hermione shrugged.
"Can we kidnap and probe some muggles?" Luna perked up.
"NO," everyone sane replied quickly.
"Then can we do it to some cattle?" A see of shaking heads was Luna's answer, "what about crop circles?"
"I was hoping to do something that would get revenge on someone," Harry sighed. "And innocent muggles, cows, and farmers haven't done anything to me."
"Oh," Luna drooped. "Then can we kidnap Fudge and sell him to some aliens?"
"Sure," Harry nodded.
"Aliens don't exist," Hermione shook her head. "In my well known role of disputing everything you say, I have to speak up here . . . sorry Luna."
"That's ok," Luna patted her friend on the shoulder. "While I am unsure of the existence of aliens and since I am not in contact with any aliens, I was planning to sell him to that all goblin leather fetish club and pretend."
"Oh," Hermione seemed to think it over for a moment. "I suppose I can't dispute that . . . let's do it."
"Yay," the harem cheered.
"Whatever," Harry shrugged. "Suggest that the newspapers might want to buy any pictures when you hand them over."
"Not the Quibbler," Luna added her two cents. "We don't publish that kind of smut."
"The Quibbler published pictures of your parents wedding night," Ginny protested. "And every anniversary night . . . you always insist on showing me."
"Yes," Luna agreed. "But not the kind of smut that would feature the Minister . . . that's just sick."
"Whatever," Harry shrugged. "Let's go."
AN: Chinese alchemy is the pursuit of immortality. One method of keeping away death is sex, or was sex. Another was eating mercury so I don't know how much credit I'd put in Chinese alchemy . . . wouldn't hurt to try though . . . I mean the sex not the mercury. It would hurt to try the mercury, that's some nasty stuff.
Omake: A True Slytherin
"So tell me about this Slytherin house," Harry asked the hat. "What exactly is it?"
"Well," the hat took a moment to think. "It was supposed to be for the cunning and ambitious, recently it's been taken over by the ineptly evil."
"So why do you want to put me in this house?" Harry's voice remained calm.
"Because I think you'd bring the house back to it's early days," the hat replied. "I think you could make it great again."
"Ok," Harry smirked. "I'll join Slytherin house then."
"SLYTHERIN," the hat called out to the stunned school
Two Weeks Later . . .
"Tell me Mr. Potter," Dumbledore fixed the boy with a stern glare. "What do you think happened to nearly every member of your house?"
"I think they committed suicide," Harry replied with a smile. "And since you put truth serum in the tea I've just drunk . . . well, I think we can dispense with the rest of this interview."
"I'd love to know how a person can commit suicide by stabbing themselves in the back seventeen times," Dumbledore's glare deepened. "Why don't you tell me the truth."
"I did," Harry pulled a potion out of his pocket and downed it. "And I'm leaving . . . I don't think my good friend Cornelius will be very happy about the way you've been trying to frame me."
"I'm not trying to frame you," Dumbledore tried the grandfatherly tone. "I'm trying to find out the truth."
"And the truth is that they committed suicide," Harry smiled.
"That's not what your head of house thinks," Dumbledore sighed. For some reason he was unable to enter the boy's mind.
"Then maybe you should bring him up here?" Harry suggested.
"He was found with a noose around his neck earlier today," Dumbledore frowned. "Something I suppose you know nothing about."
"What a shame," Harry dodged the question. "Good day Headmaster."
"This isn't over Harry," Dumbledore called out after the boy.
Harry walked out of the office with a grin on his face, the old fool would check the tea to make sure that it contained the correct amount of truth potion and he would check the potion to make sure that it was brewed correctly but he would never realise the truth. When those morons had stood in his way or gone against them they had ended their own lives, just as if they had jumped in front of a train. He had been telling the truth when he said that they committed suicide, he'd just never mentioned how.