Last time…

"Now why don't you come out and meet the rest of the kids?"

"Um…sure."

OoOoOo

Ron got up out of his bed and scoped out the man in front of him. According the pink badge on his lapel, his name was "Dr Fil". The man wore a "psychedelic" blue, pink, purple, green and yellow coat. On his face he wore a pair of joke glasses with boingy eyes popping out on long springs hidden under thick eyebrows and with a large nose and bushy moustache to boot. Perched on the corner of his head was an orange wizards' hat with a stuffed toucan on it. Poking out from under the hat was short spiky hair with blue with purple streaks through it. Somehow Ron knew he was in the presence of a true professional…yeah right.

Obviously this guy was a washed up wizard hippie from the 70's (wizard hippies were exactly like muggle hippies except they had magic…lord help us all).

"So Ronald dude your mother said you've been acting differently lately."

"Psh."

"Ok…we'll talk about that later."

"Psh."

"So how's life?"

"Psh."

"Whoa relax man what's that attitude for?"

"Psh." Secretly, Ron was enjoying taunting this loser.

"Psh yourself, MmmHm." He retaliated lamely snapping his fingers.

"Psh."

"ARGH!" Dr Fil screamed and grabbed his hat from his head. He began repeatedly punching the toucan in frustration, the bird squawking loudly with every blow.

"Dude that's not cool." The toucan gasped.

"I'm sorry man I love you." Fil sobbed and rested the toucan against his cheek.

"I love you too man." The toucan said as Fil placed him back on his head.

"Psh. Can I go meet the other retards."

"FINE! GOSH!"

Ron raised a newly waxed eyebrow. He got up just the same though, and cat-walked out the door. Little did Dr. Phil—I mean Dr. Fil know that Ron was planning on a good cutting session. He exited and examined his surroundings. The space outside was white, brightly lit and open; above were dome-shaped lights hanging by wires all lined in a row. There were numerous doors spaced evenly between intervals; with horror it dawned on Ron that he had been hospitalized.

He dramatically sank to his knees, just like Romeo in the rain. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" Frantically, he ran to one of the windows and peered in, with the glimmering hope that the kids would be remotely normal. Inside were six or seven kids in yellow t-shirts and green shorts in a circle doing the hokey pokey. He pressed his head right up to the glass- to find it was not glass. The pane bent as he leant on it but flexed back so he didn't fall in.

"What the?" he muttered to himself.

"You like it?" Dr Fil said, suddenly appearing out of the shadows, as pedophiles usually do.

"What the hell is wrong with you people?"

"I designed it myself. It's a clear substance that doesn't break, used instead of glass for the windows. I feared some of the kids would get…ideas." He said, completely ignoring Ron's inquisition.

"I need to get out of here," he mumbled, "where's my room?" Dr Fil pointed down a long corridor to Ron's left and handed him a small section of parchment. Ron unrolled it and saw it read "Ronald Weasley room 1222. Password: Rainbows. This message will self destruct in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1" the piece of paper immediately exploded in Ron's hands and fell to the ground in a pile of ashes. Ron raised an eyebrow and shook his head.

He strode down the long corridor counting down the rooms until he was outside room 1222. He said the password "Rainbows" and stepped in. The room was small with a door at the end which he suspected was a bathroom. The only furniture was two single beds with white pristine sheets, two bedside tables and two dressers. In the background a bell rang and the sound of hundreds of feet rushed towards him, he had to act fast, before his roommate got there.

Ron gratefully stepped towards the dresser, his abnormally tight jeans were giving his balls a hard time. With some difficulty he pulled them off. Relief swept through his loins and he let out a long sigh. His moment of comfort was interrupted by a small giggle behind him. Immediately, he whipped around shielding his nether regions with his hands.

"Who's there?" he said in a high voice before clearing it and repeating in a deeper voice, "I mean, who's there?"

"Over here." The voice, whom he suspected was a girl's, but in this day and age you really couldn't tell if a person was a guy or a girl, came from below him. He glanced downwards to see a pair of bright green eyes ogling up at him from underneath a trapdoor.

"What do you want?" he scowled.

"Come down here, where its safe." Ron reached for his pants but the voice stopped him, "You can leave those. There'll be no need for them." The eyes disappeared down the trapdoor and Ron, boxer shorts and all, followed; even as creepy as it was, being told not to put pants on. He found himself clambering down a grimy ladder for some good thirty feet until he reached a dirt floor. He was greeted by the owner of the girlish voice…who turned out to be a guy. The boy indicated him to follow down a long, narrow tunnel. It was dark and black; just the way Ron liked it. They continued down the tunnel for about two minutes until it widened out and split in two. They took a left turn into an enormous hall.

Black drapes hung from the ceiling all the way to the floor. A long table ran through the center of the hall, dim orbs of light coming from small candles, with a few kids clustered around the fainting lights. Along the side were dozens of small private boots draped in red curtains. The hall was filled with the sound of emo music and the moans and cries of hundreds of depressed teens. It was…beautiful.

Ron looked at the front of the hall and saw a magnificent chair at the front. In it sat a man of equal magnificence. His hair was a shiny black in contrast to his chalky white complexion, his lips were a blood red and he wore a flowing black cloak, but the thing that interested Ron the most about this man was his eyes. His eyes seemed as though they had seen years of pain and he numbed himself from it. They held a vacant expression as if they were empty. A single tear rolled down his white cheek. Ron gasped. A single tear? One of the most secret and difficult of all emo weapons, used correctly, the single-tear-strike could woe and enemy into uncontrollable fits of depression.

"Who are you?" Ron asked his guide.

"My name is Roy, I'm your roommate."

"Who is that guy?"

"You'll see," was the answer.

Ron kept watching the man; he seemed so distant…as if in a trance. The man was jolted out of it by a young boy tapping on his shoulder and whispering something in his ear. A satisfied look crossed the man's face as he waved the small boy away. He followed the small boy with his eyes and noticed he was headed right towards him and Roy.

"His lord wishes to see you." The boy said in an annoying squeaky voice indicating for Ron to follow. Obediently he did.

"I'll see you in our room…I'll be waiting…" Roy grinned.

Ron nodded back at him and followed the small boy who had fetched him. The boy had spiky purple hair and wore a long cloak which he tripped on occasionally. Ron glanced back at the chair to find it empty. He was led to the back of the hall where a redwood door stood before him.

"Well go on." the boy spat. Hurriedly, Ron pushed the door open and slipped in, to see the mysterious man sitting cross legged in the center.

"Welcome youngling." The man greeted in a silvery smooth voice.

"Who are you? What is this place?" Ron demanded. The man raised an eyebrow in irritation but the look vanished as soon as it had come.

"My name is Mortum I am leader of the E.T. and this," he paused and waved his hands about, "is E.T. headquarters."

"E.T.? You're extra terrestrials?"

"No you fool! E.T. stands for Emo Tribe!" Mortum said hotly but immediately called down. "Now tell me…how close are you to Harry Potter?"

OoOoOoOo

Revieewwwwwww!!