Happy New Year, everyone! Thought I'd ring in 2018 with another chapter. Thanks again for a year of support and praise. It really stroked my ego.

Rick picked up on the fourth ring. "I swear to God, if I find you, I will hunt you down and gut you like a fish-"

"Grandpa Rick, it's Morty!"

"Oh, h-hey Morty. Sorry about that. I was expecting someone else."

"Who were you expecting?"

"My acc*houn*tant. Do you want something? Hurry up, you're keeping the line open."

"Does the name Nicholas Flamel mean anything to you?"

"...No."

"Oh, uh, ok. Bye."

Rick sighed and set down the phone. "Who was that, Dad?" Beth asked, poking her head into the garage.

"Morty."

"Oh, ok. Have you seen Summer?"

"She's at a friend's house, I think," Rick replied. Beth nodded, satisfied, and left the room. Rick breathed another sigh of relief. The phone rang again. "Hello? Yeah, I got her finger… Look, as I said last night, I'm not going to p*haaa*ay up unless I receive the whole hand… Well, to be frank, Horgablorg, the girl doesn't need it, it's not like she's a *cough* pianist… Alright, I'll be watching for a FedEx package."

"Rick has no idea," Morty said, handing the cell phone over to Harry.

"Damn, I was sorta counting on him knowing," the Boy-Who-Lived shook his head. "Looks like it's the library for us." Hermione squealed and clapped her hands.

"What do you mean, nothing?" Harry asked in disbelief.

"I mean, we checked everything in the library. School attendance records, censuses going back to the Dark Ages, A Wizard's Who's Who, the phone book, Instagram, there's nothing."

Harry swore, receiving a sharp glare from Madam Pince. "So, two weeks of research, and we've found nothing."

"Yep," Hermione shook her head. "It's almost like he's erased himself from history."

"Great. This day can't get any worse."

"Potter!" McGonagall appeared from behind a shelf. "Where have you been? The Gryffindor/Slytherin Quidditch match is in ten minutes!"

"Damn."

"It's a beautiful October afternoon here at Hogwarts Castle as we are minutes away from the first Quidditch match of the season. I'm Lee Jordan, and here with me providing color commentary is Ludo Bagman of the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Now, Mr. Bagman, it seems that most viewers today are focusing on one thing and one thing only, the addition to the Gryffindor roster of Harry Sanchez, A.K.A Harry Potter. It seems that Potter has had no experience with the game before this year, how does that affect his chances?"

"Well, Jordan, Harry will have to work hard to keep up with Slytherin Chaser Marcus Flint. As we all know, the Snitch is somewhat self-aware, and it does not suffer beginners."

"Well, that's good to know. We're about ten seconds from the start of the match... There's the whistle! Flint takes off, Potter/Sanchez seems to have no idea what is happening and HOLY SHIT!"

"Alright, we'll have to censor that for the evening broadcast, but I can share Jordan's disbelief! It seems The Golden Snitch has flown straight into Potter/Sanchez's pocket, something no one has ever seen before."

"As it stands, the score is 150-0, and Gryffindor wins! How do you evaluate Potter/Sanchez's performance in the match?"

"Well, it was difficult to judge, as the match lasted all of two seconds-"

"A Quidditch World Record."

"-Yes, that's correct. Harry did quite well this match, really had control of the Snitch, made it come to him, rather than the other way around. That's a mark of true professionalism."

"Or unbelievable luck. Could someone have tampered with the snitch before the game, Ludo?"

"Well, I bet twenty thousand galleons Gryfindor would win, I'm going to go with no."

"Fair enough. We'll be back in five minutes to interview Potter/Sanchez on his historic victory."

"Wait, he's fallen off his broom!"

"Sabotage from the Slytherin team, Bagman?"

"No, I just think Harry has no idea how to fly that thing."

Harry sat slumped on the common room sofa, face pale, eyes twitching.

"Potter is our Kiiiing!

Potter is our Kiiiing!

He beat the snakes

A lucky break!

Potter is our King!"

"Seventy-fifth verse, same as the first!" Fred/George Weasley shouted to the gathered Gryffindors.

"Potter is our Kiiiing…"

"Why aren't you celebrating, Harry?" Ron asked, plopping down in a chair next to his friend. He was joined a second later by Hermione and Morty.

"Why should I? I did absolutely nothing."

"Well, falling off a broom counts as something," Morty said.

"Laugh it up, Morty. How can I be celebrating when the mystery of the third-floor corridor still eludes us?"

"Cheer up, Harry. Maybe a chocolate frog will help you feel better!" Ron suggested, passing a treat to Harry.

"Nah, you go ahead and eat it."

"If you insist," Ron cracked open the box and gobbled up the frog. He glanced down at the card. "Look! I got a Dumbledore card!"

"Ron, unless that card can tell me who Nicholas Flamel is, I do not give a shit."

"...Well, oddly enough, it does."

Harry perked up and grabbed the card. "The Philosopher's Stone? What on Earth is that?"

"Sounds like some sort of…" Morty paused, thinking, "Magic McGuffin."

"Well, now we have a lead, our first!" Harry said. He turned to Hermione, "Get down to the library, and search any book on alchemy for reference to Flamel, or the philosopher's stone."

"Do you want it first thing in the morning?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, that means no sleep and no toilet breaks."

Hermione fist-pumped the air and took off through the portrait. "You want I should go with her, Harry?" Morty asked.

"No offense, Morty, but you'd be more a hindrance than a help to her."

"Offense taken," Morty replied, looking crestfallen. He slowly walked away, head hung low.

"That was kinda harsh, Harry," Ron said, opening another chocolate frog. "Ooo! Salazar Slytherin. That's another rare one! Huh, says here he's rumored to have built a secret chamber under Hogwarts."

"Don't believe everything you read, Ron," Harry replied, standing up and striding through the sea of his admirers to the dormitory. "Those companies will say anything to sell their chocolates."

"Happy Halloween, Harry," Hermione said.

"Is it Halloween? I hadn't noticed," the Boy-Who-Lived replied, glancing around at the decorations festooning the Great Hall.

"You're being sarcastic, aren't you?"

"Are those real bats or fake ones flying around?" Harry asked, ducking as one swooped low overhead. "They'd better be fake, if I find one drop of bat shit in my food, I'm calling the health department."

Hermione rolled her eyes and sat down. "Lighten up, Harry. Where's your holiday spirit?"

"Dead, along with my parents, who, you know, died today," Harry replied.

"...Oh."

Harry laughed. "Relax, I'm just shitting with you. I don't even remember my parents, so why be miserable?"

Ron came up to the table, arms full of candy. "Any of you seen Morty? He's going to miss the party!"

"He's probably still sulking in the girl's bathroom after I told him he was useless," Harry replied.

"Don't you mean the boy's bathroom?" Hermione asked.

"No, he stumbled into the girl's bathroom by mistake. He's holding out partly due to his pride, and partly to avoid embarrassing himself."

"You should apologize to him, Harry," Ron said.

"Fuck that. My dad always taught me never to apologize. It shows weakness. You just keep claiming your right, then cover your ears and sing at the top of your lungs until the other person concedes defeat."

"...Has anyone ever told you your home life is fucked up?"

Harry was about to get defensive and change the subject by calling Ron poor/stupid/ginger but stopped as Quirrell came running into the Great Hall. "TROLL IN THE DUNGEONS!" he shouted, before passing out. A second later, everyone started screaming.

"All students to their common rooms immediately!" Dumbledore shouted over the bedlam.

Harry rolled his eyes and stood up. "Whelp, looks like I can't catch a break."

"What do you mean, Harry?" Ron asked. "Also, why aren't we going towards the Gryffindor Common Room?"

"Think of Murphy's Law," Harry said. "Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. Example, there's a troll in the school dungeons. What's the worst thing it can do?"

"...Kill a student?" Hermione asked.

"Correct. Now, who's the one student in the school currently unaccounted for, besides us three?"

"Morty!" Hermione and Ron shouted in unison. They took off towards the girl's bathroom.

As he turned to follow, Harry caught sight of Professor Snape exiting the Great Hall. Ducking behind a statue of Pettigrew the Coward Hiding Behind a Column, he watched as the Potions Professor began to climb the stairs, heading for the Third Floor.

Harry glanced behind him, then back at Snape, then behind him again. "What a conundrum," he muttered.

"Where's Harry?"

Hermione stopped running and looked around. "Merlin! He's gone!"

They heard footsteps up ahead. Taking cover, they listened.

"Quick, before they notice we're gone!"

"Relax, Forge, the map says they're all in the dungeons. Wait, someone's hiding behind the next corner."

"Fred! George!" Ron shouted, jumping out in front of his brothers.

"Ronniekins! What are you doing here?" They asked in unison. Fred/George quickly hid something behind his back.

"We could ask you the same thing," Hermione said, crossing her arms.

"We were heading to Filch's office-" Fred began.

"-To get back some items-" George continued.

"-So rudely taken from us," they finished together.

A scream got their attention. "Morty!" Hermione shouted. She turned to the twins. "You need to help us!"

"Right you are-"

"-My lady."

"We are at your-"

"Enough of the goddamn twin bullshit!" Hermione snarled.

They rounded the corner and charged into the girl's bathroom, freezing at the sight before them.

"Oh, that's a big troll," Ron muttered.

The troll, not yet noticing the group behind it, had Morty cornered. The boy covered his head with his hands as his stall door exploded outwards, pulled to splinters by the creature attacking him.

"Hey, Snot-Face!" the troll froze and turned towards the bathroom door. Fred and George stood there, flanked by Hermione and Ron, wands drawn. "Step away from the chronically-anxious firsty!"

The troll looked at them with a quizzical expression, then raised its club and roared. Five sphincters tightened in unison.

"Or, you know, continue, don't mind us," Fred and George said together, grimacing uncomfortably.

"Albus!"

Dumbledore glanced up from his book towards the fireplace, where McGonagall's face appeared, looking frantic. "What is it, Minerva?"

"Potter, Granger, Smith and the Three youngest Weasleys aren't in the Gryffindor common room!"

Dumbledore frowned. "Are you sure?"

"Of course, I've searched the entire tower."

"Well, it's possible they may have gone off to fight the troll."

"Who would be crazy enough to try such a thing?" McGonagall asked. Her face paled as realization dawned. "Get all the professors, call off the dungeon search. If those five aren't dead, I'll kill them myself."

Ron grimaced as he was slammed hard against a wall. "Maybe we should have thought this through more," he wheezed, clutching his bruised ribs.

"Can't you two use better spells?" Fred shouted, ducking a giant green fist.

"We're first years! The best we can do is the bat bogey hex!"

Morty watched from his shattered stall as his friends fought for him. Guilt welled up inside him. "I can't just sit here and do nothing!" he muttered. He pulled out his phone and autodialed.

"Nice try, buddy, Summer doesn't have six fingers. Send me the real hand or else I'll stop accepting your calls!"

"Rick! I need your help!"

"Morty! Dammit, get off the fucking line!"

"Scenario five, Rick! Scenario five!"

"Five, huh? Sounds pretty serious."

"Dammit, Rick, enough of your bullshit! I'm about to fucking die here, so send me the goddamn power armor!"

"Ok, Morty, unwad your panties, one suit of power armor coming your way. Just don't go too overboard. Remember Purge night."

"Fuck off, Rick! I don't need any moralizing from a fucking space criminal!"

"Geez, someone hasn't had their orange juice today."

Morty hung up and pulled himself to his feet. A second later, something crashed through the ceiling and wrapped itself around the boy's torso, encasing Morty in three-inch-thick carbon-fiber padding.

"Hey, Shrek!" Morty shouted. The troll stopped swinging his club at Hermione and glanced over. "Your bridge is about to cross over troubled waters," Morty said, smirking. A second later, he fired one of his wrist rockets.

Hermione shielded her face. A second later, she was struck by pounds of troll viscera. When the ringing in her ears stopped, she cracked open an eye, only to find a massive blood-filled crater in the center of the room where the troll had once been, and Morty, doing what appeared to be the moonwalk.

"Yeah, who's useless now, Harry? Not me, cause I just nuked a fucking troll!"

"Yeah, we can see that!" Fred replied.

"I think I'm going to be sick," George muttered. A second later both twins vomited in unison.

"What was that bit you said about troubled waters?" Hermione asked.

Morty paused. "You know, trolls live under bridges. It was a joke, you know, Bridge Over Troubled Waters? He picked the wrong bridge, is what I was saying."

"Pretty weak," Hermione said.

"Yeah, I gotta agree with her, that wasn't very good, Morty," Ron said, wiping a load of troll brain off the front of his robes. "Also, you called him Shrek. Shrek's an ogre."

"Shut up! I tried my best with what I had!"

At that moment, Harry came sliding into the room (literally, as his foot caught a pile of troll goo). "Have no fear! I've come to save the day!" he shouted. Unfortunately, he slid right across the room, knocked his head off the stone wall, and collapsed in a heap, tangled in what was once a troll's small intestine.

"Is he alright?" Ron asked. "He might be concussed."

"Goddamit, Morty, you dumb sack of shit!"

"Nevermind. He's fine."