Chapter Three

Psychotic Potter Platforms

At last, I'm at King's Cross, about to board the Hogwarts' Express and gain back some of the sanity I lost after spending a whole summer with my batty family. Can you really blame me? You'd lose your mind too if you saw your younger sister snogging a hydrangea bush or your older brother talking to his – thing.

The whole Hogwarts' Express thing is hyped, seriously. You see lots of parents with their children standing along the length of the platform, and by the look of their faces it's as if they were sending their offspring to some sort of torture camp. Meh. I figure that my parents are ecstatic to see the back of us, so they can defile the house even more. Yuck.

Let me tell you, being a Potter is overrated. Being the son of the Boy Who Lived To Shag the Brains Out Of His Wife isn't as easy as it sounds. For one, I'm always bombarded with questions about my dad. Okay, I get it – my dad is brilliant. What he did was amazing. But seriously, he is an old, perverted fart. It's been eons since he did the old Snake Chump in. You'd think that the novelty would have worn off already, but no, it hasn't.

Second, being the carbon copy of my dad stinks. You'd think that girls would flock my way because of my boyish good-looks, my black windswept hair, my charming personality and my enthralling green eyes. Well, the answer is a rotund "NO!"

You want to know why? Well, that is because of my darling father. You see, the Daily Prophet has caught him and my mum – wince – going at it more than once in public places. Had it been someone else other than Harry Bloody Potter, the Saviour of the Wizarding World, he would have been made laughing stock. In his case, it raised the public opinion about him, witches and wizards and even frickin' goblins all over the world appeared at our doorstep, wanting to have their wicked way with my dad. People are weird.

Anyway, after my parents' perverted nature was made common knowledge, people at Hogwarts started to focus on me. Since I'm my dad's photocopy, you'd think that sexy witches would swarm my way and oooooh, they would form a club such as "Lord Al Potter Sexy-Sexy Club". They would feed me grapes, prance around naked and finally allow me to get rid of this pesky virginity halo that dangles over my head. I reek of purity.

But guess what? It wasn't like that. Instead of being the most sought-after hunk at school, girls decided that it was absolutely important that I remained untouched and unspoiled, because it was like seeing my dad as pure as a unicorn. So when girls come to me, instead of throwing their luscious bodies at me, they see me as a father figure. I'm doomed.

James, the sodding prat, gets all of the girls instead. I really don't get it. I mean my brother applies moisturiser to his – thing to keep it pretty and healthy. He wants to be the winner of the non-existent annual – thing - contest. Should I do that, too? Lily often says that singing to plants makes them grow strong and healthy, so James sings to his – thing, too. You don't know how disturbing it is to see him with his – thing, singing an NC-17 version of "If you are happy and you know it, clap your hands".

I'm cursed. I'm positive than even Lord Valleypork got some. He must have some pretty wild stuff going on with that blue-buttocked baboon of his, Nagini. I have always wondered why Voldemort had a baboon by his side. Doesn't make too much sense to me. He was a Parselmouth, so he could have snakes under his control. Considering how crazy he was, I wouldn't have been surprised if he got some fun with them. I guess he just didn't swing that way. Actually, I think that Bellatrix Lestrange was so devoted to him because he had no nose. Er, all right, that's just disturbing.

I'm starting to think that all of that stuff I heard about my dad's adventures and his defeat of the Dark Turd is nothing but hogwash. Yeah, I don't deny that he did defeat him, but seriously, I think that most of it is simple embellishments. I'm positive that when Voldemort heard of my dad's randy nature and insatiable sexual appetite, he just did himself in. I know I would have done the same.

Oh wait. That's incest. Ew.

So the Hogwarts' Express. I'm here. The train is red, billowing steam, will take me to Hogwarts and all that crazy stuff. My dad is being assaulted by the horny mob, as usual: students, mothers… I roll my eyes. Can't they see that he is more than married? Can't they see that he has a ring in his finger, a wife next to him, and a history between those two that would make those soap operas go green with envy?

And more importantly – can't they see the incredibly handsome teenager who is just standing next to him, more than willing to be deliciously lavished?

My mum is making "shoo, shoo" noises. I snort. Unless she unleashes her infamous Bat-Bogey Hex there's nothing she can do. Considering how mentally disturbed my parents are this is probably another fantasy of them. Ew.

'If you wanna be my witch, you gotta get with my broomstick, make it last forever -'

Brilliant, my brother is back with his Spice Witches songs. Highly embarrassing, but at least it helps to get rid of the randy fans who would rather sexually harass an old fart instead of the Potterlicious hunk next to him – also known as me.

Dad is talking to us. I used to listen to him, but now my brain is so plagued by adolescent thoughts and girls I just can't find any room for my dad's pep talks. I plaster an attentive expression on my face, but my mind is in Florine Délambert Land. Wait till you see her, she gives my heart palpitations!

'… I'm so proud of you three. I could never imagine I would have two amazing sons and one brilliant daughter. You are all a dream come true,' my dad says tearfully, while my mum nods, big fat H2O drops tugging at her eyes.

Aww, I hug him. Yeah, I'm a softie. So sue me.

Mind you, I pay attention to where I place my hands. I avoid all skin contact. Who knows what my dad was up to last night?

Oh, the crowd goes wild. Brilliant, just what I needed. More dung of "awwww, Al Potter is so cute, hugging his dad. Let's all protect his celibacy status!"

You know, at this rate, I will finally succumb to my only stalker and her mental wishes. Yeah, you got that right, I have a stalker and she is a second year. Laura Gloryflower. She pegged me as her future husband the moment she set foot on Hogwarts. She is utterly bonkers and a frickin' second year!

…Plus, she kidnapped me last year, undressed me and forced me to sit through a tea party of hers with her teddy bear Grindelwald and her stuffed snake Voldemort. I'm mortally afraid of her.

I'm in need of my dose of manly masculinity. Oh, Scorpius, Scorpius, where art thou?

… Fraternising with his banjo, most likely, and singing "no Death Eater, no cry".

Is anything in my life ever going to be remotely sane?

-oOoOoOoOo-

DISCLAIMER: 99% of the characters here belong to JKR. Laura Gloryflower, the insane thoughts and a couple of useless characters are mine though.

A/N: yeah, I know. Not extremely funny. I think I only smiled twice while writing this. Blame it on my stupid exams at med school.

So little Albus is mentally deranged. The usual adolescent boy, can't get his mind out of the gutter. Heh heh.

Thanks to all of those who review, you will rule the world!

Until next time,

Vermouth

Member of the Siriusan Order