(In the Avatar: The Last Airbender intro voice)
Previously, on HPSH (pronounced Hipshit)...
Voldemort, a fucked up wraith thing, appeared randomly in the forest as a showdown between a faggy vampire, another, more recently turned faggy vampire, a werewolf with an inability to wear a shirt, a half-giant with an inability to think complex thoughts, and a burgeoning wizard who knows only a handful of spells, since he just started magic school.
Clusterfuck? Raptor Jesus knows we all think so...
Edward bared his fangs menacingly at Jacob, whose abs rippled in defiance. Drakey-poo, his belt ripped off in a move worthy of a denizen of the Red Light District of Amsterdam, leered at the shirtless werewolf.
Harry eyed the exchange in thinly veiled disgust.
"Umm...aren't you going to do more than fucking hiss at each other? Christ, I can't believe I thought vampires were sort of cool, when Quirrell talked about them earlier this year." Harry said condescendingly.
"Shut up, Potter, you don't deserve to talk to us! Hisss..." Harry looked incredulously at his one-time nemesis.
"Did you seriously just say 'hiss'? You can't even hiss properly. You know what, I may be a pitiful wizard who only knows like three spells, but Petrificus Totalus." Harry said, whipping his wand at Drakey-poo, who immediately - since he was now a vampire and therefore without any sort of useful skills, abilities, or capabilities - snapped his feet together and hands at his side, falling forward onto his face.
"Mno! Mnot my mface!" He mumbled with a girlish shriek. As the vampire hissed at the ab-flexing werewolf and Hagrid sort of oozed in a cloud of fart gas and Voldemort oozed in a cloud of shadow gas, Harry just walked over to the prone ponce and kicked him in the ribs. He'd learned from Harry Hunting that that shit hurt.
"Oi, Hagrid, reckon you can turn one of those fags into a pig like you tried to do with Dudley?" He called out, hoping to end the faggotry quickly.
"Aye, 'Arry, yer a wizard an' a thumpin' good 'un, too!" He said with a big grin, flourishing his umbrella. With a poke at Jacob, the werewolf, still busy flexing his abs and glaring at the hissing vampire, sported a new pigs tail.
Harry sighed in exasperation. "Of course not. Should have known better, I guess." He said to himself under his breath.
"Okay, Voldemort spirit thing, what's your bag?" Harry said, turning to the wraith.
The wraith merely turned to the alive Diggory, red eyes widening in wonder at how the boy still lived - even though he hadn't actually killed him yet, but let's not bother with continuity.
"Diggory!" His high voice demanded. "You have found the secret to immortality! Give it to me now!"
Edward, a signature clueless grin now on his face as he smiled at the red-eyed wraith - though Harry had no clue why - stopped hissing at his werewolf nemesis and turned to Voldemort.
"Hagrid, don't you have a freaking crossbow? Shoot the werewolf!" Harry said, interrupting the sparkly vampire and the wraith Voldemort, who both eyed him as though he was doing something rude.
"O' Course, 'Arry, yer -" The half-giant began.
"Yeah yeah, a thumping good wizard, and Dumbledore's a great man, I know." Hagrid beamed at Harry.
Touching a hand to his temple to stave off a migraine brought on by gross incompetence, he gestured toward the werewolf as though he himself were holding a crossbow, then stuck his tongue out and put his hands around his neck as though he was dead, hoping Hagrid would understand the simple gestures better than words.
"Righ'!" The half-giant said. He let loose with the crossbow bolt, which hit Jacob in the gut, the only reasonable target on him.
Jacob's abs, despite frequent description by rabid fangirls, were nowhere near as hard as steel, and the bolt went through them like...a crossbow bolt through flesh...and the werewolf hit the ground, curled up in the fetal position. With the angle Hagrid had hit him, Harry thought the crossbow bolt likely hit his spine, too.
"Great shot Hagrid, good to know you're good at something...even if archery isn't generally the most useful skill." Harry added the last part under his breath - even if Hagrid didn't understand, Harry knew it was fairly rude to make fun of retarded people to their face.
"Come, Edward - grant me the immortality I seek!" Edward and the wraith were close, now, and Edward's lips were puckered as though he were going to kiss Voldemort.
"Oh hell bloody no! There's no way I'm letting Fag-demort happen. Petrificus Totalus." Harry said, intoning his favorite new spell at the vampire, who once more dropped like a bitch, arms snapped to his side. Unfortunately he landed face up, and Voldemort attempted to take advantage of the situation - the misty wraith oozed onto Edward's still form, enveloping it.
"You should not have come here tonight, Tom." With a slight gust of wind, Albus Dumbledore, resplendent in purple robes trimmed in lavender and pink - which rippled in the slight breeze that had suddenly come out of nowhere - pointed his wand at the wraith. With a bang, the wraith was pulled off of the vampire; Edward's face shone in the moonlight.
"Thank Merlin, a wizard with more than half a term's worth of magic! Short of turning some bloody pine needles into silver needles, I don't know that I'll be much use here." Harry exclaimed happily, apparently ignorant that he would not, in fact, learn any more transfiguration while at Hogwarts, despite years of classes and doing quite well on his O.W.L.s.
"Grea' man, Dumbledore!" Hagrid agreed. Harry rolled his eyes. The werewolf, abs rippling as he rose from the ground, staggered toward Harry and Hagrid. Not relying on Hagrid's powers of observation, Harry was quite uncertain what to do, short of a Full Body Bind Curse, but he'd used that about a dozen times already and was nearly growing bored with it, despite its obvious usefulness.
With a glance, he saw his chance in the form of the wooden crossbow bolt in the werewolf's gut. It would be more difficult than turning a match into a silver needle. Indeed, the boy didn't know that it would be more transfiguration than would be accomplished throughout his entire N.E.W.T. years at Hogwarts, likely because the author's imagination didn't expand far enough to actually develop the limits of the branch of magic she threw out in the first book. Harry didn't let that ignorance deter him, however, and concentrated fiercely as he waved his wand at the wooden crossbow and intoned the transfiguration incantation.
Jacob stopped suddenly, eyeing the now silver crossbow bolt in his stomach. Silver-red lines ran away in every direction from the wound as the poison leeched its way into his system - it seemed that not even his potent abs could save him now. He fell back down in a limp heap as the silver stole his strength and he, too, became a bitch like a vampire.
"NO! EDWAAAARRDD! Oh, Jacob? I, like, didn't know you were here." The incoherently screaming Bella, somehow - and Harry suspected powers of authorial self-insertion to be at work here - freed from the tree she was chained to, instantly became demure and uncaring when she saw the dying werewolf.
"Fine, don't talk to me, that's cool, whatever." She said as he didn't respond; obviously attempting to walk to impress the fallen werewolf - and not realizing that his imminent death was more important than some psychotic authorial self-insertion of a love interest - but failing and merely looking ridiculous.
"Oh for the love of - Locomotor Mortis!" Harry said angrily. Bella tripped and fell forward awkwardly as her feet and legs snapped together, landing on her face and rolling forward ass over end, landing face up.
"Oww! What the hell -"
"Petrificus Totalus. I mostly just wanted to see you trip, crazy bitch." Harry said with a smile.
Instead of Dumbledore focusing on Voldemort as he expected, he saw that the old Headmaster was looking creepily at Edward, whose face was still sparkling and twinkling in the moonlight.
And for the first time, he also noticed that Dumbledore had a pedostache along with his beard. Harry knew this disaster needed to be averted, so he grabbed one of the dead wolves that Hagrid was carrying and, struggling slightly, dragged it to cover up the vampire's face. He secretly hoped Edward would suffocate now, but had no idea if vampires even breathed.
"Hey, you old poofter, Voldemort - you know, evil wizard, killed my parents, RIGHT THERE!" Harry said, pointing at the red-eyed wraith. Since it had done nothing as of yet, Harry suspected the wraith to be fairly impotent.
"Should be a fair match, then." He said, appraising Dumbledore skeptically. Instead of a typical pointed wizard hat, the old man was wearing a beret - this was not a good sign.
"Oh, right. You should not have come here tonight, Tom." Dumbledore repeated ominously.
"Shocking, I haven't missed anything." Harry muttered, unsurprised. With a sigh, Harry took a seat next to - and behind, though the smell was gut-wrenching - Hagrid, who had begun stripping the pelt off the remaining wolf in his hand.
"Your powers are weak, old man." Voldemort the wraith spat in his high voice.
Wishing he knew how to conjure up some popcorn, and instead satisfying himself that, despite only a semester of magical education, he managed to do more damage in a fight than any other wizard he'd ever seen or heard of - though this may have had more to do with his ignorance about such things than any prodigious skill.
Besides, he thought gloomily, with his luck a meeting of such legendary foes would be nothing more than the lines 'You shouldn't have come here tonight, Tom.' and 'Your powers are weak old man.'
(written by kmfrank)