So this is Sopp's chapter.
Even if I did think I was doing the HP chapters.
Next Chapter will be another Glee one that i have to write... Oh joy.
Anyway 2 chapters in one morning there may be more chapters later on.
Well i'm done rambling so... Enjoy :)

Chapter 3 - Getting Back To Hogwarts

Ron and I found an empty compartment for the lovely train ride back to my beloved boarding school where the teachers weren't sadists and a maniac was trying to fucking kill me -

Then I realised. This was real life. So, naturally - I was crammed in a compartment with my ginger best friend, his ginger sister, a random guy who had a thing for plants, Loony Lovegood and a night troll.
Oh, wait. That was Hermione.
"Hey. Harry - Harry - Harry!" Ron bugged me.
"What?" I yelled.
"Wanna write who we want to die in my notebook?"
I was about to retaliate, then realised it was a pretty good idea.
"Yeah sure." And we spent twenty minutes debating who we wanted dead.
So far, we got:

The Slytherins.
Snape.
Dolores Umbridge.
Rita Sketeer.
The trolley lady - bitch wouldn't give me change.
Voldemort.
Peter "Wormtail" Pettigrew.
Bellatrix. That slut.
"Who else?" I asked, pondering for a moment.
"That list is barbaric!" Hermione said in a shrilly tone. Ron and I looked at each other for a moment until he scribbled her name down as well.
"How about Cedric Diggory?" I asked. "Dick stole my bitch. Pimpin' days haven't been the same since."
"The Slytherins, I get. But a fellow Hufflepuff?" Hermione asked, outraged.
"That's a good idea. Thanks Herman." Ron smiled, finishing up our list.
We sat back for a moment until something I said shocked everyone, including me.
"I think we're going to have a fairly normal year at Hogwarts."
Everyone was gaping. My hand slapped over my mouth in disbelief. I am The Boy-Who'll-Live-Forever-As-Avada-Kedavra-Doesn't-Affect-Me and I said that.
"What do you mean?" Plant Boy asked.
"Who's he?" I whispered to Ron.
"Neville Longbottom." He replied.
"Don't joke. Neville's fat. If I were gay, I'd ravish him right now..."
"Harry. Shut up!" Hermione hissed.
"I'm being Sirius." Ron said, before we both burst out laughing in memory of my dead Godfather.
"So, normal year thing?" Ron's sister - Minnie, I think - brought up the original conversation again.
"Yep." I said simply.
"So, no fighting You-Know-Who?" Hermione asked.
"Nope." I replied, popping the "p."
"No mad teachers trying to attack you?"
"No."
"No getting into life-threatening situations?"
"No."
"No dangerous Quidditch skills?"
"No."
"No breaking school rules?"
"Bitch please."
"No using the Marauders Map?"
"Is this a fucking game show? Don't be so fucking ridiculous!" I shouted at her.
She rolled her eyes and busied her ugly, nosey nose into a big, boring book she was reading.
"What are you reading, Hermione?" Neville "I'd ravish Him" Longbottom asked.
"It's called the dictionary." She replied to him with a smile.
"BORING!" Some random stranger yelled from the other side of the train.
"You learn the meaning of words." She explained to our confused faces.
We looked blankly at her.
"Look, read it yourselves." She said, tossing the book to us and getting the Daily Prophet out.
"The Quibbler has much more interesting things, y'know." Loony said.
"Shut up, radish, or I'll hex you into the next Wizarding War." Hermione threatened. I swear they're best friends.
Ron and I ignored them and turned straight to "S".
"Sex," Ron read out, loudly. "Verb. Determine of sex of: 'sexing chickens'. Noun (chiefly with reference to people). Sexual activity, including specifically sexual intercourse." I took the book out of his hands and searched for something else.
"Wanker," I read out, slightly louder than Ron. "Tosser. Terms of abuse for a masturbator." We all, apart from Neville (who looked confused) and Hermione (who looked pissed off) burst out laughing.
"Harry, what's a masturbator?" Neville whispered.
"You know, when you get excited - you tend to whomp your willow." I said slowly, with a wink. Neville finally got it.
"Give it back. You shouldn't be reading stuff like that." Hermione argued, flustered.
"Not our fault you have a porn-book." Ron laughed, snatching it off me.
"Ron, it's not a porn-book, you're searching for those words -" But it was too late. Ron was leaning out of our compartment, waving the book.
"HEY GUESS WHAT EVERYONE! HERMIN HAS A BOOK ABOUT SEX TERMS! COME HEAR IF YOU WANNA HEAR WHAT THEY MEAN!"
Oh, yes. This year will definitely be normal - entertaining twelve year olds on the meaning of "blow-job."