Mister Stu

The crossover award goes to "give em enough rope" for round 2.

For those of you under the impression I'm a middle aged woman living in England… close, really close.

------------------------------------------------------------

"Excuse me, but who in Circe's left nostril are you?"

"Ughn... quieter... headache."

Rachel and Diana, two second year Hufflepuff girls, looked at each other in curiosity. "Who are you?" Diana asked again, this time in a softer voice.

"Ughn... where am I?"

"Useless," Diana said, shaking her head.

"Think he's a Stu?" Rachel whispered.

"No... can't be - he smells."

"Yeah, just like my parents liquor cabinet. I think it's bourbon."

"Bourbon?" the man asked, suddenly listening.

"No, you get no bourbon," Diana said, slapping away the man's hand. "Honestly! Now, what's your name?"

"Bond... James Bond... why does my head hurt? Did you drug me?"

Diana rolled her eyes. "It's called a hangover. How much did you drink?"

"Hangover?" Bond asked as if he'd never even heard of the word before. "I only had 23 shots before I passed out on top of the brothel worker turned spy th... I mean, ughn."

"Twe... twenty three!" Rachel immediately turned to Diana. "We need to get him to Nurse Pomfrey."

------------------------------------------------------------

"Are you sure you can't stick around awhile longer, Ivanov?" McGonagall asked.

"No, my dear," Petrov said in a saddened voice. "Unfortunately, my master plan of melting the polar ice cap needs me. You can't do those sorts of things from anywhere but a secret lair."

"Secret lair?" McGonagall said, smiling. "Why didn't you say so earlier? We can set you up here at Hogwarts, and you can do all the scheming that you want!"

"Thank you for the offer, my lovely McGonagall, but unf... I say, who are you?"

McGonagall turned around to see that they were no longer alone in her office. Three dark-grey uniformed officers with jackboots and red armbands were standing at attention.

"Frau McGonagall?"

"Yes?" she replied primly.

"We are taking over the school. I trust there will be no objections?"

There were a tense few seconds at the news that Nazis were taking over Hogwarts - not exactly the most obvious and expected turn of events by any means. Finally, after a few seconds, McGonagall broke out into a grin and said, "Thank you!"

"I do not c... excuse me?" The German officer clearly expected a rebuke from the woman, not grateful acceptance.

"You don't understand," she replied with the first joyous smile she'd had in quite awhile. "I've been trying to get someone - anyone - to come take over this school since the Gary-Stu content rode in. And who better to assume the torment and fire of that position than the darkest avatars of history? By all means, take over! I cede all administrative functions of this debauchery to you!"

------------------------------------------------------------

"Nazis are taking over the school," McGonagall whispered to Flitwick at the staff table.

"Hey, now," Flitwick protested. "That's a very politically incorrect way to say that."

"Hm?"

"If you don't like someone, that's no excuse to whip out fascist imagery. It degrades what actually happened in Europe those days."

"No, no, you don't understand. Actual Nazis are taking over the school."

"Dear heavens," Flitwick breathed. "Why are you so happy, though? That's horrible news!"

"You really don't see what's coming, do you?" McGonagall said, unable to keep a smile from her face. "Do you remember the outrage and retaliation we saw ten years ago when we tried to make curfew one hour earlier? How one professor actually ended up in Mungos with a tea kettle for a head? Now imagine what will happen when these muggles try to impose some strict code upon the students."

With extremely ironic timing, the doors to the Great Hall opened, three people walking inside. At seeing who two of the people were, McGonagall nearly couldn't contain herself.

The first person was rather non-descript - a worn brown leather jacket with an equally beaten hat, giving the man the appearance of someone almost out of a western movie.

"Ah, Herr Jones!" the new headmaster said. "We've been looking forward to your appointment. You may begin teaching history to the students here at once." The man nodded and parted, and if one looked closely they could see the oddest thing under the man's jacket: a bullwhip. "As for you two, I have no idea why you are here."

They were, quite simply, the reason McGonagall was struggling not to roll on the floor laughing. It was Fred and George, although it was rather hard to tell who they were at first glance. One had died his hair dark brown while the other had gone the opposite direction and now sported blond locks of hair. It was quite strange to see a Weasley with something other than red hair, and McGonagall thought it looked hideously hilarious.

"Gutentag, Herr Headmaster!" Fred said in a horrible parody of a German accent. "I am Frederik Von Veasley, and this is my esteemed brother George Von Veasley."

The headmaster raised an eyebrow, his uniform rustling as he leaned forward in his chair. "And what, pray, might you be here for?"

"To teach!"

"And to discipline the young impressionable students."

"To crush their spirits."

"And mold them into proud distinguished young men and women."

The headmaster was clearly pleased by the words. "Though we unfortunately do not have any more positions currently open, we wish to keep you both on retainer here upon the faculty." The man pulled two sets of keys from his pocket and handed one to each of them. "These are to your own invidividual quarters as well as to the Faculty Lounge, Prefect Baths, Restricted Sections, House Commons, and Castle Maintenance rooms. We wish you a proper welcome to this castle."

George and Fred were visibly struggling not to either grin or let their lower lips drop. McGonagall lost it and gave a large aborted laugh that sounded like a possessed hiccup.

"Frau McGonagall," the headmaster remonstrated. "I am trying to talk to Herrs Frederic and George."

"My apologies," she managed in a voice choked with amusement.

------------------------------------------------------------

"Excuse me, what are you doing?" Hermione asked upon seeing someone in her study room within the library. "Who are you? You look awfully familiar."

"I'm Professor Jones," the man answered, and turned his back to her, apparently studying the walls on the other side of the room.

"Professor? What do you teach?"

"History. I'm rather busy..."

"What are you doing?" Many things had changed over the years, but Hermione's nosiness had not.

The man sighed. "Miss...?"

"Hermione Granger."

Before the professor could say anything, a third person joined them in the room, walking the slightest bit awkwardly - as if he weren't completely with it at the moment.

Finally, Hermione placed the the faces. "I know who you two are!" She pointed to the first man in beat up leather clothing. "You're Indiana Jones. And you, you're James Bond!"

"Indeed, miss...?"

"Hermione Granger."

James looked around. "So what are we all doing in this room? This can't possibly have anything to do with the plot."

Indiana's eyes widened a bit. "You know about... the plot?"

"Of course, I've been trying to stop it for nearly three weeks now."

"You're trying to stop the Relic of Stonehenge from being unearthed?"

"What? No, I'm trying to stop Petrov from melting the polar ice caps."

"Oh." A few seconds went by. "That's not a very good plot."

James kicked back, sitting on the ground. "You're telling me. But it beat the one where I had to fight up in space with moon lasers."

"Harry? What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be snogging with Ginny?"

Harry closed the door behind him, the room beginning to get a bit crowded with four people. "Hard to explain..." he said in a soft voice.

"Moon lasers?" Indiana laughed. "Sounds better than fighting nazis at least."

"Oh no," James replied. "Cherish every moment you've got. The Nazis were a nice pure-evil-enemy you could rally against - same thing with the communists. But ever since glastnost, things haven't been the same."

"Oh?" Indiana said, his hands probing the wall.

"Yeah, now we have to battle rogue nationalists and other pathetic villians. I mean, anyone could get wrapped up in a spy movie where I was trapped in Soviet Russia. Who cares if some weirdo detonates a nuclear weapon in orbit simply to steal a bunch of money from the Bank of England? I mean, if they were going to sell the nuke, maybe people would care, or use it to wipe a city off the map. But pulling off a bank heist? I'm surprised people weren't rooting for the villains against me!"

Indiana jumped back, a surprised look on his face. He leaned forward and pressed a section of wall with both of his hands, which was rewarded by the bricks crumbling to reveal a dark staircase leading downward.

"Any torches in this place?" Indiana asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes and cast Lumos.

"Neat trick," James said, and the quartet descended down the stairs.

------------------------------------------------------------

"Ok, that's it. Where is everyone?" Ron demanded.

"We're all here," Luna replied evenly. "The stus are ready, and the crowd is waiting."

"No, but... ok. Where are Petrov, Deux, or Bond? Where's Indiana Jones? Or the Nazis for that matter. It's like the school is suddenly back to normal - well, normal with some Stus."

"Mr. Weasley," McGonagall remonstrated in a sharp voice, "We're not waiting for muggles before we continue this competition."

"Ok, the next contest is... oh give me a break! This can't be right!"

"What?" Luna asked. Ron showed her the paper with the contest name on it; she blinked and slowly smiled.

"I'm not reading this. This has to be some sort of joke!"

"Ronald Weasley!" McGonagall angrily said. "I want to get this over with so I can get back to my quarters."

"Ok, folks, the next contest is... black leather pants wearing."

A shocked silence fell over the crowd, followed by quite a number of women cheering.

------------------------------------------------------------

Sirius was spending his time trying not to think about how he looked. Even more importantly, he was trying not to fall over, mostly because he could only bend his knees halfway due to the tightness of his pants. At least the other Stus were just as bad off; all four of them were pretty much dressed up like pieces of meat for fangirl appreciation.

"Um, why are we doing this?" he asked the other three men.

"Because we're stus."

"But... but why are Stus like this? I mean, I'd been told all my life that women wanted someone sensative and loving, so why are we getting ready to parade around in black leather?"

"If women wanted someone sensative," one of the Stus replied, not knowing he was echoing Remus, "Why would they lust after Snape or Lucius so much?"

Sirius sighed. "No. I'm not going to do it."

"What? How can you not? It's a 'Black Leather Pants Wearing' contest."

"I don't care," Sirius said angrily. He cast an enlarging spell on the leather fabric, letting the clothes expand until they were a nice and loose fit. "Ohhhhhh... that feels so much better."

"Everyone," Ron said in a rather unenthusiastic voice, "Our first contestant is Garith Chu..."

Garith smirked at Sirius before walking out onto the pitch, greeted by a chorus of wolf-whistles from the female half of the crowd.

"Shake it!" Ginny shouted, surprising many of those around her. "Yeah, baby!"

------------------------------------------------------------

"So what are we doing here?" Harry asked Hermione as they followed the two men down the dark staircase.

"We're looking for the Relic of Stonehenge," Hermione explained.

"No, I mean, why are we here? Shouldn't we be out in the stands watching the Stus?"

"You'd really want to?" Hermione sniffed. "Besides, the Relic of Stonehenge is a very potent artifact, and it was be extremely bad if it fell into the wrong hands, even if they were muggle ones."

"Oh? What does this relic do?"

"A prophesy..."

"Oh, no," Harry groaned. "Another one? Why can't there ever be a story or plot in fanfiction that doesn't involve a prophesy?"

"Ok, ok," Hermione said. "There's this... legend?"

"Better," Harry grudgingly said.

"There's this legend that Stonehenge wasn't formed, like commonly thought, by drunken druid pranksters."

"Then how was it formed?" Harry was amazed to find one of the bedrocks of his faith – that Stonehenge was created by inebriated druidic hooligans – turned out to be so hopelessly misplaced.

"The legend said that whenever someone wielded the Relic of Stonehenge," Hermione continued, unaware of the crisis of conscience her words were inflicting upon her friend, "they would be able to raise a legion of spirit warriors from the ground. The rocks at Stonehenge are what's called a 'Witness Seal', something that's left over from when someone does just that."

"Sounds like a crock to me," Harry replied.

"Legends and myths always have some basis in reality," Indiana said, repeating the same cliché phrase that had justified far too many horrible movies, leading them onto the landing of what looked to be a medieval torture chamber.

"Ok, that sounds like a crock to me, too," Harry shot back.

"Then what do you call this, boy?"

Harry's eyes widened as Indiana turned to face him, holding a very unusual artifact. It was almost like a golden sculpture of an apple, but it had a face inlaid on it that squinted at him in deliberative scrutiny.

"I've found it... I think it's about time we purge Hogwarts of some of its unwelcome visitors," Indiana said, smiling widely.

------------------------------------------------------------

"Look over there, Minerva."

"Filius, I'm a lonely woman. Don't you dare take my gaze from black leather unless it's something important."

"It is, headmistress."

McGonagall sighed and looked where the deputy headmaster was pointing. It was a formation of large rocks jutting out from the ground nearby the great lake. "Huh. Were there any drunken druidic pranksters here last night?"

Flitwick didn't get a chance to answer. White apparitions emerged from the ground epicenter of the rocks and swarmed towards the quidditch field. McGonagall's eyes widened, but it was clear that the new visitors weren't after the staff or students in the stands. On the contrary, they went straight for the Stus on the pitch.

"Over here!" cried a loud voice; the same woman who had rejuvenated the Stus after the last task was standing above a series of runestones. "It's a spirit ward; they won't be able to get to you!"

The four contestants didn't take very long to come to a decision and broke out into a run towards the strange white-robed woman. Sirius quickly dashed the length of field, surprised that he was running faster than the other three - he wasn't that much of an athelete, truth be told.

When he reached the woman and turned around, he could see why; the other Stus weren't even really able to fully run. It was more of a pathetic limping lurch as their legs fought to bend against their constraining clothing.

Larry Loo had particularly tight pants, and wasn't able to make it even off of the pitch before the spirits caught up. "AGH!" he screamed, the youth and vitality being sucked from his body by formless phantoms until he was tossed to the ground, a withered lifeless shell.

Garith Chu managed to make it (Sirius suspected the strain ripped a crack in the back of the leather pants, thus freeing the man up for more regular running, but he wasn't about to check) but Jerry Stewart was caught just as he was diving for the edge of the barrier. When Jerry looked back up from the ground, the other Stus recoiled slightly; the man looked like he had aged twenty years. While it was better than Larry Loo's fate, it certainly wasn't pretty.

"Excellent!" McGonagall cheered.

"Sorry about that," Indiana said, walking up to the staff stands, Hermione, Harry, and Bond in tow. "I told them to go after the unwelcome visitors - I assumed that would be the Nazis, not your contestants."

"That's quite alright!" McGonagall replied instantly.

"But... where are the Nazis?" Hermione asked.

McGonagall shrugged. "Haven't seen them in a few hours."

------------------------------------------------------------

Actually, three nazi officers were rather close - only a thicket of trees separated them from the stands where McGonagall was sitting. Sweating profusely from effort, they were digging a hole next to Greenhouse 4.

"What's that odor?"

"Smells like sewage."

"Don't mind it. We're at the right spot."

"I thought the Relic of Stonehenge would be inside the castle?"

"Fool," the commandant said. "That's a trinket to distract Herr Jones. No..."

The shovel shivered as it made a large supernatural humming noise from hitting something buried within the dirt. "No," the man continued, bending down on a knee to brush away soil from the glowing white orb under the ground. "This is what we're after."

"What is it?"

"Oh, come on, you should know by now. The letter..."

The other two squinted, obviously thinking. "Ah! I know! It's..."

"Sshhhh," the commandant whispered back. "It's no fun if we just give it away!"

"But... can't we say?"

"No!" The leader gave a dramatic backhanded slap to the upstart Nazi. "We have said enough already!"

------------------------------------------------------------

Wow... Long chapter!

Anyway, keep the ideas/reviews coming! I'm probably going to use two of them the next chapter.

Few quick notes about the ideas, though. First, make sure to keep the ideas relatively universal. I'd prefer to avoid ones that very few people would get the jokes (most people have seen at least one Indiana Jones movie and one James Bond movie.) And second, I'm not really looking for which ones have a 'Stu' in them. I'm looking more for a ridiculous contrast/pairing with the HP world (hope that makes sense)