Harry and Hermoininny's relationship was on the rocks. They were fighting all the time because Anne kept inventing new crabs to give him.
"Ah! My manhood!" cried Lord Harry. "It's turned green! What have you done, you wicked woman!"
Harry whipped her hair over her shoulder and tilted her chin up. She regarded him with a haughty glare. "It seems Lord Potter can't handle the world's greatest french kisser."
"The world's greatest french kisser may not be long for this magical world..." he murmured darkly.
Hermione was so hormonal and stressed out that she could only flirt with a decade older men per day instead of a 20.
Ginny stood at her window and looked out at the garden. The cloud of flies swarming around Hermione kept dropping dead, and any plants within a six foot radius immediately wilted.
"It seems Hermione's pheromones have become airborne," said Ginny. "Perhaps my quidditch captain will ignore her or put her away, and all our Weasley fruitcakes getting poisoned won't interfere with my plans..."
At the annual big fancy end of year feast, Hermione was now visibly pregnant, and caught the attention of everyone in magical Britian. Henry's current house-elf replacement Ron tried to ignore all the comments, and also ignore the smug half-glances Hermione kept throwing her way.
"Whatever's the matter, my dearest serv-friend?" asked Henry from his throne. "I'm sorry, I don't remember your name."
Ron shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Oh, nothing... I just wish I could give you the perfect fruitcake you want so much."
"You'd better," said Lord Potter. "Otherwise I'll kill you."
Ron's lower lip trembled. "Oh, Harry! I've been waiting to tell you... I went to a fortune teller. She said the reason I can't get a good fruitcake is that Hermione's special condoms are killing your seed. And she's not pregnant with a baby, she's pregnant with a rock."
"What!" roared Harry, bolting up. The music and chatter died out. "Minions! Kill Hermione at once!"
The minions lowered their wands and backed Hermione against the wall. She screwed up her face and the glinting wands inched towards her, and she placed a protective hand over her stomach. The crowd stood watching, wide-eyed and wide-mouthed.
The corners of Ginny's lips curled up in a smile. But just then...
"Wait!"
The doors flung open and a powerful wizard entered the room.
"A wizard?" quoth Harry, aroused. "Doth why?"
"Hermoininny visited me yesterday," explained the wizard. "She is indeed pregnant with a male hallow!"
"Lies!" screeched Ron, flinging himself out of the Great Hall hysterically.
"No," said the wizard sagely. "I have proof. Magical proof." He handed Harry an ultrasound that clearly showed the baby was a male hallow.
Harry set down heavily in his seat.
"A son..." muttered Henry. "This chain of events... It's like a plot from an amazing book written by a genius, perhaps even a professional author. It's like... I'm chained by them!"
Everyone clapped for Anne de Shiteleu for being the world's greatest escort and getting pregnant. Even the queen couldn't help but clap, because she knew Anne was the superior woman.
Only one person didn't clap... can you guess who? READ THE NEXT CHAPTER TO FIND OUT!