Chapter 8; When Mariachi Bands Attack
"Here's what I say, Granger," Draco said, slapping his shot glass down on the bar table. "I say we need to get rid of this Potter character."
"And why do we need to do that?" she asked drunkenly, tossing her empty champagne glass behind her back. It shattered nosily.
"Because he has the other piece of the Amulet of Destiny," Draco replied, swaying back and forth on the barstool.
"What does that thing do, exactly?"
"Well . . . it's . . . I guess . . . it's just a stupid Amulet. God, who wrote this piece of crap?" he muttered, looking up at the ceiling. "Some person named LampsAreCool. Well, lamps aren't cool!"
A pool ball cracked him over the head promptly.
Draco turned around slowly. There was a seven foot neanderthal-biker behind him.
"Did you throw this?" Draco asked, picking up the ball and holding it up to the biker's face.
"As a matter of fact I did."
"Do you want to fight?" Draco asked insidiously.
"As a matter of fact I do."
"Are we going to have to take this outside?" Draco asked.
"As a matter of fact we will."
They walked outside and a circled formed around the two contenders.
"Take my cloak, Granger," Draco said, tossing his cloak to her. "Let me teach you a thing or two about boxing. It's all about the accuracy. You want a piece of me, pal?"
"No. I want the whole thing. You mess with the author, and you mess the system!"
The neanderthal delivered a solid uppercut to Draco's chin. Draco reeled back, unfazed.
"I let him have that one," Draco gasped, "I was just warming up."
The Slytherin wound up and threw a punch at the biker, who didn't even blink.
"This isn't even worth my time," the biker said, losing interest in the situation. He knocked Draco out with one hit.
It was Friday. Harry lounged aristocratically on his double king-sized bed.
Ginny entered the room. She was wearing a flowered sundress. "Hello, Harry," she said in a friendly tone. She ran away quickly.
Five seconds later, Ginny ran in. This time she wore a black cape and three-inch boots. "Potter," she hissed evilly.
Harry frowned. "Didn't you just . . .?"
"Did you see Ginny go by here?" she hissed again.
"Um . . . yeah," Harry said slowly, "in a sundress?"
"Yesssss! You better sleep with one eye open, Potter! Next time I see you, you're minnne!" she rasped.
He shrugged. All of them said that. He needed some fresh air, so he walked to the window. He thought he saw something in the distance. He squinted, and almost thought he could make out an army of . . . but no. That was impossible.
"I need my medication," he muttered, pulling out the rattlesnake venom. He still hadn't looked at the label. He downed it in one gulp.
"Ah, I feel so . . ."
He passed out on the bed.
Hermione wheeled Draco into the Emergency Ward at Hogwarts.
Draco's eyes slowly opened and he stared at Hermione. "Why are there two of you?" he asked her groggily.
"How many fingers am I holding up?" Hermione asked, sticking three fingers into the air.
"Twelve," Draco told her bossily. "I'm perfectly fine."
This was a Very Bad Thing Indeed.
The infirmary door banged open, and Harry Potter was wheeled in frantically, followed by Kron 4 News, the BBC, choice representatives from Witch Weekly magazine, and the Minister of Magic.
"Alert the Prime Minister," Draco drawled sarcastically, "Potter's gotten a paper cut."
"You're wrong," yelled an enthusiastic fan who also happened to be Tony Blair, "Harry the Great cut himself on a toasting fork, you . . . stupid!"
"Oh my God!" Draco said, covering his mouth in shock. "A toasting fork? How will he ever make it through? Better alert the Queen of England . . . oh wait, never mind," he sneered viciously, "she's already here!"
Everyone in the room glared at him stonily.
"Well, I thought it was funny," Hermione said with a shrug.
"And why are you here, Malfoy?" Harry asked the blond haired boy, crossing his arms self-importantly. "Got ants in your pants!"
Everyone in the room save Draco and Hermione burst into uproarious laughter at the unauthorized excuse for a passable insult. Some guy with a drum set in the back hit the drums and crashed a cymbal. The cameramen zoomed in on Harry's smug face.
"Or has the cat got your tongue?" cried Harry senselessly, obtaining the same sickening attention from his fan club.
In that moment, Draco came to the obviously justifiable conclusion that Potter needed to die an imminent and abusive death.
Any further boisterous bantering was halted by the arrival of the doctor. Wait . . . when was the last time there had been a doctor at Hogwarts?
"Potter,"the Doctor hissed sadistically. "I mean . . . good day, my . . . esteemed patients. I am Dr. . . . Mort. I need to perform an easy little . . . check-up."
The Doctor commenced in vaporizing the entirety of Harry's grotesquely large fan-club with his wand. Draco noticed that the physician had abnormally long fingers. A coincidence? Draco mused to himself. I think not.
The Doctor twirled a knife in his fingers and smirked evilly at Harry.
"Is there anyone in the room who gets . . . queasy . . . at the sight of streaming blood, innards, or mutilated body parts?"
"Depends on who's blood it is," Draco sneered maliciously, smirking at Harry.
The Doctor raised the gleaming knife above his head.
An object whizzed through the air and knocked the knife out of The Doctor's hands. The white robed man turned angrily to look at the intruder.
"I have never tolerated identity theft," came the silky voice.
"Severus Snape," Dr. Mort said, narrowing his eyes.
"You didn't really think I'd let you kill the Potter brat on your own . . ." Snape purred with a smirk. "Did you . . . Voldemort?"
Duh nun . . . NUH.
Dr. Mort took off his Doctor's mask and revealed His True Identity.
Harry gasped in shock. Everyone else in the room looked totally unsurprised at this revelation.
"Time to reveal a second twist," Hermione said with a smirk.
"I'm not injured!" Draco hissed, jumping out of bed and pointing his wand at Harry. Hermione, too, pointed a loaded pistol at Harry.
"Time for some payback, Potter," Hermione sneered maliciously. "I never did forgive you for that time you broke up with me on our anniversary. You're a dead man."
"Besides," Draco continued, the wand aimed directly at Harry's heart, "you have the other piece of . . . the Amulet of Destiny!"
"Ah, this old trinket?" Harry said calmly, pulling the other half out of his shirt. "I almost gave this thing away to one of my old girlfriends. She rather liked it, if I remember correctly."
"That was me," Hermione said scornfully.
"Was it?" Harry asked dreamily. "I never remember those kinds of things . . ."
"I mailed it back to you," Hermione told him hatefully, "to get rid of the memories."
"Well, you can have it now," Harry said casually, tossing the other half to Draco. "You are my brother, after all."
No one picked up on the cheesiness of the aforementioned line.
Smirking, Draco raised the pieces of the medallion and placed them together.
"We have but one chance, Sock-tail," Lucius whispered, "to break into Hogwarts with this army of grenade-wielding Mariachi bands and get rid of Potter once and for all."
The sock puppet on Lucius's hand nodded.
Lucius looked desolately at the sock puppet. It just wasn't the same.
"Diego, take the left passage," Lucius whispered suddenly. "Juan, go the right. Jose, you come into the Infirmary with me! That's it, Potter! You're going down! Eat my maraca!"
Lucius sprinted for the infirmary . . . and ran straight into Wormtail.
"Wormtail! I mean . . . what are you doing here?" Lucius asked suspiciously.
"I have a few questions," Wormtail asked softly. "The main one is . . . how did you win American Idol?"
"Never mind that, Wormtail," Lucius said dismissively. "Now get out of my way. You're holding my men up."
"No," Wormtail said quietly, "not this time, Lucius. This time, we fight."
He pulled out an ambiguous sombrero and placed it on his head.
Lucius promptly threw Sock-tail out the window.
"Welcome back, Wormtail."
Draco placed the two pieces of the amulet together.
Something happened.
Lucius and Wormtail burst into the Infirmary suddenly. They started playing Bad Mexican Music with their trumpets.
Snape had never liked Mexican music.
Somebody, who shared the general sentiment of the others, grabbed the trumpets away from Lucius and Wormtail.
"That was the most Godawful thing I've ever heard in my life," Snape muttered disgustedly.
"Well this is Godawful fanfiction!" someone yelled in the background.
There were smashes outside the Infirmary, and cries of battle. What was going on?
There was a sadistic hiss from the doorway and Ginny burst in.
"Where's the other one?" Snape asked wearily. Everyone else seemed really confused.
"Other Ginny?" the girl whispered evilly. "My inadequate counterpart . . . I hate her . . . . apparently went back in time to try to . . . fix everything . . . and she accidentally brought more Ginnys with her. And those Ginnys brought more Ginnys. But now . . . yesss, now . . . I have compiled my very own army of Evil Ginnys! You're dead now, Potter! MUHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Harry's eyes were darting back and forth between parties as if he were watching a mildly interesting tennis match. He sipped more champagne.
"Another army?" Voldemort said wearily. "And I thought I was the only one bent on world domination. Bellatrix, get the Death Eaters over here . . . I'm going to need back up. Alright . . . Are there any more armies that feel the need to make themselves known?"
The Infirmary door flew off the hinge from being thrown open dramatically too many times.
Harry's legion of fan girls (led by Colin Creevy, of course), flooded into the infirmary at Voldemort's request. The Dark Lord rolled his eyes.
"Get out of here," he said wearily, "Potter's a little too preoccupied with staying alive to sign autographs at this point."
Hermione, Draco, Ginny, Ginny, Jose, Lucius, Wormtail, Ginny, Voldemort, Colin, Snape, and the fan girls looked over at Harry.
He was talking casually to Madame Pomfrey. "Yeah, that's two virgin daiquiris, okay?"
"Oh, yeah," Draco sneered sarcastically, "he's putting up a valiant struggle over there, that much is obvious."
"Whatever," Voldemort said in a dismissive tone. "Now that we're all done with . . . special appearances . . . why don't we finish what we all actually came here to do? Die, Potter!"
Voldemort raised his wand threateningly.
Boom.
Silence.
BOOM.
Silence.
A random glass of water on the table rippled ominously.
BOOM.
Silence.
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
The roof blew off.
