He's Not Dead Yet

Hey, I'm not dead yet either. Sorry for the wait, but I had to finish off my semester and final exams. Then I spent three days in New York City (I got to see Les Miserables) and now I'm recouping after a long year. I may be busy this summer as my dad managed to get me a job helping a friend of his do research for a book. I'll still try to update, but I think I'm getting pretty close to finishing this fic. It's just that the hardest part of writing a fanfic (at least in my opinion) is figuring out how to wrap it up. I've got the basic idea and what I want for the very end, but it's difficult getting out a few final chapters.

Anyway, I don't own Harry Potter or any cultural references. Bonus points to the first person to recognize the non-Monty Python references in this chapter.

That's an Offensive Weapon, That is

It was a few months into the new term and Sirius and Bathsheba were in their private quarters one morning, preparing to go down to breakfast.

"Sirius, guess what," Bathsheba said with a bright smile. "There's going to be twice as much love in this family as there is now."

Sirius stared at her for a few seconds.

"We're gonna start doing it in the mornings, too?" he said.

"No."

"Then we're gonna start shagging in your office?"

"We've already done that."

"Another professor's office?"

"Sirius!"

"Then what-"

"I mean, we're going to have a baby."

Sirius paused a moment and his jaw went slack. Then, slowly, a huge grin spread over his face and he threw his arms into the air.

"I'm gonna be a dad!"

He then bolted from the room, shouting to all and sundry this joyous news.

"Sevewus, how good of you to join us," Voldemort said softly, trying and failing to sound menacing on account of the speech impediment. Among the Death Eaters Voldemort had freed from Azkaban was Severus Snape, and the potions master was just looking for a chance to get revenge on anyone named Potter or in any way connected with the boy who had pretty much ruined his life. Snape had mostly been sent on undercover missions or to collect valuable potions ingredients, but something had happened to cause Voldemort to summon him for a new task.

"My lord," Snape said with a deferential bow.

"I have a task fow you, Sevewus. Wecentwy an announcement was put in the papahws that I fewlt you shouwd see."

Voldemort tossed Snape a copy of The Quibbler that bore the announcement of the upcoming arrival of a new heir to the House of Black. Snape's lips curled into a sneer at the thought of a continuation of the Marauders.

"I have a vewy impowtant task fow you, Sevewus," Voldemort continued. "The Bwacks aw a thweat to us and awwies of Pottah. Go to Hogwawts and kiwl them."

A cruel smile lit Snape's face. He was going to go back to that school and he was going to make Black's death as horrific as possible, after first making the man watch his pregnant wife tortured to death. To Snape, it was a just revenge for all that he'd suffered. Snape was aware that there had been anti-Death Eater wards put up around the school, so he would just lie in wait around the outside until his targets left the safety of the grounds.

What Snape hadn't taken into account was the fact that Fate wasn't too keen on his plans and had called in her old buddy Karma to kick Snape's ass.

Harry was sitting at the Gryffindor table, reading his morning mail and casually sipping his tea. A most curious letter had arrived from Mr. Weasley, of all people, asking about the possibility of Splunge Inc. investing in a line of enchanted cars. It was an idea that Harry had been considering bringing to the table at one of the board meetings and Harry was delighted that he could make it official. Mr. Weasley had also been working on a new car for Harry to test drive to see if it met with his company's standards. The prototype would be delivered on Saturday morning and Harry was eagerly looking forward to it.

Harry was pulled from his musings as his girlfriends decided to kiss him goodbye before they headed off to their classes. If Harry had looked up, not that he could have because of the intense snogging he was getting, he would have seen one very irate Weasley female bending her fork as she gripped it too tightly from the anger she felt towards the six witches who had, in her mind, stolen her man.

Saturday came rather quickly and Harry and several of his friends and board members attended the arrival of the prototype wizard car. There was a chorus of "Oohs" and "Ahs" as the large crate containing the device was delivered and opened. The new car was not like the last one that Mr. Weasley had spruced up. Whereas the previous car owned by the Weasleys was a bright blue Ford Anglia, this was a dark green 1980s Aston Martin. Harry then asked for a few volunteers to test out the vehicle with him. Only a couple of his male friends stepped forward, the girls all stood to the side, smiling as though they knew something was bound to go wrong (after all, it was Harry), and the rest of the students seemed a bit wary about a magical car.

So, Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom, Justin Finch-Fletchley, and, oddly enough, Blaise Zabini filed into the enchanted vehicle. Following the guidelines Mr. Weasley had provided, Harry (who had little experience driving a regular car, let alone an enchanted one) started the vehicle and drove the car up into the air, circling around the school.

"This is so awesome," Justin cheered.

"This is how a real man gets around," Neville added. "Shall I turn on the radio?"

"Do it!" the boys cheered.

A peppy little tune started reverberating through the car.

"Yes, it's one of my favorite tunes," said Harry as he made a sharp turn in the air.

"Make up your own lyrics for it, mate," said Justin.

"My name is Harry Potter,

I'm the king of the car.

Flying with my best guy friends

In a car.

Someone got this great idea to enchant a car.

Ha-Ha-Harry Potter and the flying car.

Harry Potter. Harry Potter.

Do the shooby-do-whops, guys!"

The other boys began a background chorus of "Shooby-do-whop! Shooby-do-whop!"

"Excellent. That's beautiful.

If you've got a problem I can fix the problem.

I've got a solution for every problem.

I've got two solutions for every problem.

I have also got…a flying car.

Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Harry Potter. That's me!"

Unfortunately, Harry hadn't been paying attention to where he was driving and accidentally caused the car to land on someone with a sickening crunch.

"Oh my God!" Harry exclaimed.

"That was fun," said Blaise evenly.

"Everyone get out of the car." Harry ushered his guy friends out and began to panic as he saw the body underneath the front wheels of the car. "Oh, what are we going to do?"

"Wait, I've got it," said Blaise. "Neville, you go dig a hole in the Forbidden Forest. And, Harry, Justin, you drag the body over to the hole. I'll wait here with the car."

"Uh, guys, whoever he is, I think he's still alive," said Neville. "Just back the car off him."

Harry got behind the wheel and accidentally drove forward.

"Oops."

He then drove back over.

"Oops."

He did this several times before he finally got the vehicle off the injured individual. He then got back out of the car to find his three guy friends poking the unconscious man.

"Harry, I think it's Snape," said Justin.

"What, really?" Harry inquired, trying to keep the grin off his face.

"Yup, that's Snape," Blaise confirmed. "There's no mistaking that greasy hair." Blaise had always hated his former Head of House's hair. Being from the Zabini family made Blaise quite sensitive about personal appearance and proper hygiene.

Voldemort gave a frustrated groan as he heard the report that Snape had been taken back into custody by the Aurors. Their last encounter with the Aurors had forced them to flee, all because those idiotic new recruits couldn't get their banter straight and warn them promptly. Now, instead of the relative comfort of their last hideout, they'd been forced to retreat to the dive they'd once occupied back during the earliest days of the foundation of the Death Eaters. And so, they were currently registered at the Young Men's Anti-Christian Association, located at the corner of Anti-Semitic Street and Pogrom Square, where the motto of "Are you nervy, irritable, depressed, tired of life? Keep it up" was written in chipping paint on a cheap, plywood plaque above the front desk.

Voldemort lightly tapped his fingers against his head as he tried to think of how to proceed. He needed to do something big, something to remind the wizarding world that he was still a force to be reckoned with. Of late, his followers had been more incompetent than usual. He'd already lost several Death Eaters in what looked to have been a tiger attack when they were supposed to murder that uppity bint from the Bayly family who had been assisting Potter.

So, the Dark Wombat…er, Dark Lord, pondered on what would be a good way to get back some of his dignity. He knew he had to eradicate Potter, if only so that Rookwood could perform the ritual that would truly restore Voldemort back to his full power, not to mention finally end the humiliation of looking like a wombat and speaking with a ridiculous speech impediment. What he needed was to seize one of Potters friends, preferably one of the little trollops that followed the boy around, and hold them as a hostage to lure Potter out into the open where he could be dealt with.

He was shaken from his thoughts as he felt the annoyingly familiar sensation of someone running a comb through the thick, dark, wombat fur on his head.

"BELLATRIX!"

Hogwarts was hosting a field trip, at Harry's suggestion, to introduce the students to the Ministry of Magic, as most had never actually seen the place. It was a great way to get the students thinking about how they wanted their government to run and to decide some possibilities for their future. It was a wonder that Hogwarts had never done something like that before; especially considering the Ministry was one of the primary centers of employment in the magical community.

So, the merry group of Hogwarts students was taken throughout the government complex and shown what career options were open to them in the Ministry. When the fourth years were escorted to see the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, they were shown the interrogation rooms and, as it so happened, given a demonstration of interrogation tactics used by Aurors thanks to the "assistance" of one of the Aurors' most recent recaptured criminals, Severus Snape. The interrogation room was little more than a large, grey box with a one-way mirror, behind which was something that resembled a Muggle microphone, through which the interrogating Aurors shouted abuse and threats.

Luna, with a cheerfully maniacal grin on her face, tapped one of the Aurors on the shoulder as he paused in his intensive interrogation of the potions master.

"Could I give it a try?" she asked.

"That would be unethical, not to mention a serious breach in protocol, but sure," said the Auror.

"Hello, Mr. Snape," Luna said cheerily over the magical microphone. "I just thought you'd want to hear some recent news. I and five other girls are dating Harry Potter and in a few years we're going to marry him! Soon, there will be a whole army of little Potters running around. Isn't that wonderful?"

"Wow," said the Auror. "I've never seen a convict react by foaming at the mouth and trying to chew his own arms off like a trapped coyote to escape. Heard about it, just never seen it."

Dumbledore was not having a good day. It seemed that word had spread from the Bulgarians to many other countries that he had not killed Gindelwald, including Serbia, where he was now hiding. Dumbledore was outraged at the ingratitude. Alright, so he had let Grindelwald live despite the fact that he'd brutally tortured and murdered countless innocents, but couldn't these people see that Grindelwald had to be spared in order to try and redeem him? Everyone deserved a chance to return to the Light. Dumbledore was also affronted that they would treat him so horridly when he had ensured that Grindelwald wasn't burning down their countries anymore; never mind the fact that it had mostly been Aberforth who had done the actual fighting (as Albus really only stepped in at the last minute) and the fact that Grindelwald had the misfortune of tripping on an ill-placed banana peel and inadvertently chucking the Elder Wand at Albus' head just as the Allied wizard forces showed up.

But that wasn't important. What mattered to Dumbledore was finding a way back into Britain to defeat Voldemort with the same level of grandeur that he'd defeated Grindelwald. In other words, letting someone else do all the work and wear him down until Dumbledore could step in and take all the credit. Dumbledore just wished Harry was more cooperative; the boy had a destiny to fulfil of dying at Voldemort's hands, and yet it was almost as though Harry wasn't going to be doing that.

Well, Dumbledore could be patient. In the meantime, he had to flee that very angry-looking Serbian mob.

Ginny Weasley watched the six witches who had stolen her Harry with mounting rage. They were just cheerfully chatting on their way down to the carriages to meet with Harry, her Harry, for the trip into Hogsmeade. Proving herself to be every bit as idiotic as her brother, Ginny decided to openly challenge six witches considerably more powerful than herself.

"You aren't going to win," she growled at them. She was met with six incredulous stares. "Harry is mine and I'm not going to let you keep me from him."

"What the hell are you on about, Weasley?" said Fay.

"I'm saying, if you know what's good for you, you'll stay away from Harry."

The six girls all exchanged looks. They'd already dealt with girls who had the same kind of obsession with Harry who were far more threatening than Ginny Weasley.

"Listen, Weasley," Susan said in a clipped tone, "we're really rather busy and don't have time to listen to bullshite like this."

"Has it not occurred to you that maybe Harry doesn't like you?" said Tracey. "That maybe, just maybe, he's satisfied with women who love him for himself and not his fame or money?"

"No!" Ginny screamed at the six girls. "Harry is MINE! You bitches could never love Harry like I do!"

Daphne looked at Ginny as if she were a particularly bothersome mosquito.

"Face the facts, Weaslette," she said. "Harry having six girlfriends, two of whom are Slytherins, is far more believable than him ending up with some obsessive stalker like you."

"No!" Ginny protested. "Harry loves me! He belongs to ME!"

The six girls exchanged looks again.

"Okay, this conversation got old very fast," said Fay.

"I agree," said Hermione. "Shall we go for ice cream?"

"Oooh, that sounds good," the others agreed, nodding in consent.

They all turned their backs to the furious redhead.

"HEY!" Ginny shouted. "I wasn't done with you, yet!"

"We're done with you, Weaslette!" Daphne called back.

When Harry and the girls arrived in Hogsmeade, Harry found himself bombarded with reporters. He gave a frustrated sigh at the fact that these idiots couldn't seem to get it into their heads that he had an exclusive contract with The Quibbler. This line of questions seemed to be in regards to suspicions that Harry was, and I quote, the "Chosen One" to defeat Voldemort.

"That does it!" Susan snarled with a ferocity Harry had only ever thought her aunt possessed. "Out of our way, you parasites!" She gave the indignant reporters harsh shoves out of the way. Fay, who was also a fairly strong young woman, assisted her in clearing a path through the swarm of reporters.

Once they were safely arrived in the entryway of the Three Broomsticks, Susan ushered the others inside before settling a glare on the reporters.

"Unless you lot want a serious hexing, I suggest you bugger off!" she concluded.

As she was about to follow the others inside, Luna popped her head out to give a final statement.

"And, for the record, he's not the Chosen One, he's a very naughty boy," she said with a slight giggle.