Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I don't own Lucky Charms. I don't own a Tivo. I do, however, own a hand-knitted scarf, of which I am exceedingly proud. (Note the correct usage of a prepositional phrase)

Author's Note: I am a girl, and am only imagining what the thought process of a thirteen-year-old boy. I believe it follows more along the lines of "Look! Boobs! (drool)" but if JK Rowling can pretend to know what adolescent males think, so can I.

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Well, every time I come back to Hogwarts after the summer holidays, I'm full of Muggle nonsense and pop culture. During the summer, when I'm not online, I'm watching TV. And since my dad's too cheap to get the all-powerful "TiVo," I don't have the power to skip commercials. So I come back to Hogwarts with a load of advertisement jingles stuck in my head.

Now, before I really get started, let me explain how Seamus Finnigan and I know each other. Seamus's mum and my mum are friends. They'd go and have a coffee somewhere, or Mrs. Finnigan would stop at our house on her way to Diagon Alley, or something, and they'd have to drag Seamus and me along.

I was the kid that other parents didn't like around their child. I got everyone in trouble; I'd convince everyone to do something mischievous and the other kids would be punished too. Now, Seamus is three years older than me. He's more like a big brother than a friend. He was the kind of brother who would tease and torment his siblings; I was the kind of brother who would play pranks on the sibling who tormented his other siblings. I grew to rather respect and fear him, though not to the point where I wouldn't dump sand on his head or laugh when he stepped in dog-doo.

At Hogwarts, Seamus being such a high-and-mighty "sixth year" now, he mostly ignored me. And I, being a obnoxious little twerp who always had to be the center of attention, severely disliked that. So when I came back to Hogwarts with a "Lucky Charms" commercial stuck in my head, and an unfulfilled revenge in my heart, obviously something bad happened...

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"Hiya, Seamus!" I piped, waving frantically. Seamus looked around, saw me, raised his eyebrows, and turned back to whoever it was he was talking to.

I did not like being ignored. So I, as a male adolescent, did the first thing that popped into my head. "Hey, Seamus, look what I can do!" I started armpit-farting Beethoven's Fifth. (that's the one that goes "DUNH DUNH DUNH DUUUUUUUNH") Dean Thomas, who'd been the dude Seamus had been talking to, started laughing.

Seamus looked disturbed, murderous, and embarrassed, all at the same time, a very bad combination. I grinned maniacally and continued making noises with my armpit. "C'mon," he said to Dean. "We'd better get on the train." Dean was still laughing.

I, having had my glorious moment of attention, had already lost interest and went to start looking for Ella and Owen.

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For some reason, the food at breakfast isn't always the same. There's always eggs, toast, and bacon, but the cereal changes daily. And sometimes a certain cereal would be at one House table and not another. And sometimes the French toast would be at the Gryffindor table, and the pancakes would be at the Hufflepuff table. And the next day the French toast was by the Slytherins, and the pancakes were being hoarded by the Ravenclaws. (Never get between a Ravenclaw and their pancakes, that's what I always say.)

Seamus always liked this one type of sugary cereal. It was some sort of sugar-coated wheat thing mixed with sugar bits. Basically, it tastes like Lucky Charms.

Today this cereal was at the Hufflepuff table. Right between Owen and I. (Here the author would like to point out her impeccable grammar usage.)

A groggy Seamus appeared behind me. "You finished with that?" He pointed at the bowl of the pseudo-Lucky Charms.

"Maybe," I said obnoxiously. It is so fun to mess with people when they're sleepy.

"Kevin, you little twerp, just give it to me." This wasn't nearly as menacing as it sounds. Imagine being robbed by a confused old grandmother threatening to stab you with knitting needles. Not so scary.

"Owen!" I said. "Seamus Finnigan is after me Lucky Charms!"

Half the Hufflepuff table exploded in laughter. The other half, along with Seamus, looked confused. I still have a vivid image in my mind of Owen shooting pumpkin juice out his nose.

And a joke was born.

---

"Mr. Whitby," Professor McGonagall said threateningly.

"Sorry, professor, won't happen again." I had spilled ink all over the lines McGonagall was making me write. "I will not make obscure Muggle pop culture references. I will not make obscure Muggle pop culture references. I will not make obscure Muggle pop culture references. I will not make obscure Muggle pop culture references."

"Do you know why you are writing lines, Mr. Whitby?"

"Because I make obscure Muggle pop culture references?"

"Because your jokes get old and tasteless after a while."

I did my best I-am-meek-and-humble look. Surprisingly, for one with an ego as inflated as mine, I have a very convincing meek-and-humble look.

"I am sorry."

Professor McGonagall gave me a you're-not-fooling-me-kid look.

I grinned cheekily.

Professor McGonagall has a very good you're-not-fooling-me-kid look.