Yes, Buckbeak is dead, sorry.
There's a new student in town! He's got spiky blond hair, is a ninja in the hidden leaf village, and ALWAYS has a hankering for ramen. That's right, you guessed it, he's Benjamin Franklin! He got held back a couple grades (he's none too bright, that one) and that's why he's now at the Wrazarding School of Hagmart.
Ron is a fucking dumbass principal's pet, so he had to deliver the new schedule to the new student. He also did the morning announcements and pledge of allegiance, but that's a story for another time. And he did colourgard. What an asshole.
Ron had his hall monitor's sash on. "Ay ya fuck ing talentless hack of a ninja I mean new pupil of my eye. Student. Um. here."
Awkardly trying to get out of that AWKEARD situation, Ron thrust the piece of paper that was the schedule into Benjamin's hard hands.
"One in the hand is worth two in the bush!" cried Ron in desperation, and ran away with fear. He flailed his arms and legs a little into the wall. The hallway was only a foot across. We need to fix that. Fucking enchanted building piece of shit patriarchy. RESIST. RBG.
Benjamin Danklin, as we like to call him, did a quick summoning jutsu to summon his rolling backpack that he accidentally left at his grandma's house this morning. He was a sallow, pale, weak, pale again, grandma's boy. Obviously. He's like Neville, but worse almost. Except maybe not. Bc Neville's pretty fucking gross.
Backpack thundering furiously down the corridoork, Ben Danklin made his way into his first classroom.
The class was acluck with excitement at the prospect of a gold prospector in this town like the one from Toy Story with the fat ass. Professor Scrooge McDuck is still here. We didn't fuckin forget about him like you all thought we would. Fuckers. Have a little faith, damn.
Benjammin FlankDank came into the classroom and stood before the class to introduce himself. He was pigeion-toed.
"I'm Ben Frankline. Most people just call me Benjamin Franklin. Or, The Hustler, for short. I'm from west philly born and raised, my measurements are 36-24-36, my blood type is taupe O, and I'm gonna be the next Headmaster, Believe it! PLEASE ACCEPT THIS GIFT!" and he handed them all handmade chocolates that he stayed up all night with his grandma making for the class, in the hopes that they would all have diabetes like him, and have a blood sugar crash in unison and then they would all get out of class for the afternoon. But also be really shaky and in a bad mood. But still, no homework! Hell yeah, toad nudge!
The students sized him up. Because he was wearing a size small but he needed a size medium.
He was a boy, nay, a man-child, about 12 years old but also at the same time 47. He was rotund and bald on the top, but had those glorious locks on the side that we all know and love from his image on the hunny dolla bill. But also, his hair was spiky and blonde. He had a headband with like a thing on it. A swirl with a point and hook. Light on his feet, he was wearing Sketchers Shape-ups that light up when he walks and make little Buzz Lightyear sounds. He had on support hose to hide his varicose veins, and as for his robes, well, let me tell you. He had a special cargo robe on, like cargo shorts, they were khaki. Also, his robe unzipped half way so he could take it to the next level of fashion for a more breathable summer capelet. And he had spectacles. He also had little whiskers as birth marks or something on his cheeks. Idk why though. And he painted a cat-nose with g-ma's eyeliner.
"Fuck is you, who?" asked a client.
"Wow, that manchild is really quite handsome!" said noone. He heard it, though, and he said "Thank You!" as loud as he could.
"Hey, is that Naruto Uzumaki? I watch your show! On Cartoon Network Toonami!" said Luna Lovehood. She had several anime drawings taped to the front of her binder, and she had at least 73 keychains attatched to her satchel. She also always got period blood all over her desk chair. It's her first time, cut her some damn slack.
"I heard there's a whole SLEW of new students coming in today! Displaced from Hurricane Katrina and also from the dark lord or whatever some kind of disaster that is wizardly. Many of them are also ninjas. I've heard. Herded cattle."
MEANWHILE, Harry lounged lazily on a hammock situated between two quidditch poles, approx. 10 kilometers in the air. He smiled vaguely at his 12G SFS SAn Fran 6Dell Taco Farmer in the DEll computer Steve Jobs Apple iPhone iPod nano. He had just got a really steamy text from none other than Dobby the house elf-MILF. He was cutting class, and glass. And grass. Or was supposed to be. He was in detention, actually, and cutting grass was his task of the day. But HArry outsmarted the Headmaster Dumbledork (not that hard to do, mind you) and found a way to be in a hammock instead. In the sky.
The super ultra steamy text said:
"I found a stale wheat-thin under one of the floorboards in the mess hall, and smeared some of my shit on the cracker as a quick snack. There were several dead rats there as well. I actually dissected one earlier and found the wheat-thin inside of its body cavity. Wyd?"
Harry's heart raced like a racehorse named Snacker. But the racehorses penis, rather.
"DTF." responded Harry, with a sigh. But a sigh of pleasure and absolute terror.
A ping on his phone brought Harry back from his pleasure cruise in his head, and he looked at Dobby's reply directly in the eyes.
Dobby's reply was simply a gif of himself from that one scene in the second movie where he had to iron his hands and he's like showing Harry his bandaged hands and waving his little grubby spirit fingers in Harry's face but in a kind of suggestive way. And, since it's a wizard's phone, the gif was moving. Because of magic. And also reaching out and actually touching Harry. So that was delightful. Harry's taint shivered with passion and longing, and asked for the day off.
His boss, Zak Bagans, gave it to him.
Slippit Nuggets. Or, in English, Benjamin Franklin, booked it, hard, out of class. Cause of his diabetes, really. He needed to get some fresh pain au chocolat, STAT. Like water for chocolate. So he booked it to the great hall, where it smelled a lot like used boogers and Draco Malfoy's curry-sweat. Speaking of Draco, There he was! Doing squats in the middle of the great hall, looking ashamed and hoping that no body would see. He's got a tight ass, though.
Ben, forgetting all about his diabetes, engaged in conversation with this leviathan of a boy. He just wanted a friend. And a Fred. But Fred Weasley wasn't around.
"Howdy! You know where a fella could get some munchies around here? I'm dang-near parched for french pastries. I'm also, kind fat. NOT THAT THATS A BAD THING I'm just warning you bc I like to?"
Draco Malfoy slowly, at a Daniel Radcliffe snail's pace, turned around to face the pudgy, innocent, well-meaning Benny-boy. He was red and shaking with venomous slytherin big dick energy. He looked furious.
He stomped sideways over to Ben-i but kind of not, bc he was off-kilter and kind of ran into one of the dining tables and jabbed his thigh on the corner and it really fucking hurt for like a long time. And broke his ankle a little. He then proceeded to limp over, doggedly, to Benjamin Maurice Franklin the turtle.
"Actually no, they don't usually serve things like that around here, chap. Not munchies, anyways. I have seen a couple of triscuits lying about on the carpets only half broken by people stepping on them, and today I found one with only far and few rat droppings on it! Don't quote me on that, brother."
It was then that Draco spied with his little boy chin hair sized eye brow pencil by Benefit cosmetics, Benjamin's cool rolling backpack! He had NEVER seen one before, and thought that it was the coolest shit he had ever seen. Honestly, he was fucking with it. It was fire.
Rubbing his palms together in front of his face, standing straight-legged with his feet shoulder width apart, Draco slurred, "aw fuuuuuuuuuq"
"Oh, I fucks wi that. Shiiiiiiiiiii. Dawg! You wanna do Molly with me?" As he rubbed his mouth and chin area with one hand and then pointed a little to play it off as casual, he approved of this boi in front of him.
At this point, I find it prudent to describe Draco Malfoy's OOTD:
He was wearing today on this day, a Supreme shirt, some khaki chubbies with pink flamingoes embroidered on them, some black Nike tube socks with aliens drinking pilsner that says 420 on them, and vintage Adidas Gazelles. He also had a huge Michael Kors watch, which had a bit of coors light loose inside of it, an I heart boobies bracelet, and a patagonia fishing snapback. And a middle finger ring, that's really wide but just plain black. Also, he had a tattoo of a middle finger flipping off a paper airplane. And he also had a ticket to Fyre in his back pocket (FRAUD).
"Brother, I can't believe how fire your b-pack is. Is that Balenciaga?"
Benajmin was caught off-guard by the sheer fuckboyness of Draco, and the fact that he wasn't making fun of him, since that seemed to be people's default towards Benn.
"Um, actually, I think my gran got it at Ross. It's a Jansport."
"Jansport? Never heard of it...must be fire though. Lemme look it up on my H7 HVAC Shark Dyson roll the diceon, bison 4G LS burger tooth now with better camera than ever slim fit underwaterproof fitbit LS 4G 5G 6G 8G phone Android Motorolla camera phone. Lol lemme just finish this porn I was watching while doing squats first tho."
Draco finished watching the porn. It was about a woman who went for a tennis jog out on a particularly sweltering day. She got inside after her trip to jogging and was hot so took off her tennis bracelet. And panties. And then like 3 men came out of nowhere and the storyline dropped and they prone-boned her. But she wanted it. Draco's not a bad guy, he's just a fuckboy. He's into consent though. Consent is the hottest thing he can think of. He can't think of much bc he has a small brain condition. That's why he wears these clothes.
Then he turned the porn off and it went to his wallpaper, which was a photo of his hand grabbing a woman's bare ass in Calvin Klein bikini thong. She has varicose veins. It's an epidemic here in England. But it's actually gaining popularity thanks to the #veriNOTgrossveins movement. It gained a lot of momentum when celebrities like Joey Potter and The Lion King and Danny DeVito all shared photos of their varicose veins on social media.
Varicose veins are the second hottest thing Draco Malfoy can think of.
Benjamin huffed in disappointment that there weren't any french pstries. But luckily, he always carried an emergency baggie of Fairbanks Butt-Treats in his rolling backpack for moments like these. It's not easy being diabetic, but someone had to do it. Being accepted by people lowers insulin levels. Scary stuff. So he broke open them Fairbanks Butt-Treats and ate a few. Even though they're supposed to be taken rectally. They taste like dog treats. Come to think of it, they taste like dog treats.
Draco slurred his speech and hastily asked, "yo what house are you in? I can technially only be friends with Slythies, bc we're racist frat boy brothers. You in?"
Benjammin was embarrased and bashful about this subject… "actually, they forgot to sort me...I've just been sleeping on a bench in front of that one out of service girl's lavatory on the east wing since I got here...It's not so bad...sometimes I find crackers on the floor...and sometimes, if I'm lucky, I see a house elf scurry out from the floorboards and masturbate in the corner to an ear of corn, or a yahoo image print out of a ear of corn, or a magic ear of ususally breaks up the long night when I get my coughing fits from the malaria I picked up from eating rat-crackers off the ground."
Draco inserted, "Oh yeah, that's Dobby. We call him 'Dabs' bc he's that fucked up. Have you ever done dabs? They're pretty sick. They get you real fucked up. My brother once hallucinated on them. He saw house-elves, it was crazy. I can't believe that."
Ben didn't respond because he was coughing up blood due to malaria and probably diabetes too, and puberty, which had just hit him pretty hard.
"Dude, what's up tonight? Come to the Slyth common room with me tonight and we can haze you into our frat. I promise it'll be fire. A promise is a promise, bruh, and I'd never leave a brother hangin." Draco flossed and had vocal fry that whole time.
They toddled down the hall to the common room like a couple of queef queens.
Everyone in the girl's dormitory came down with a stomach bug. Most of them died from this stomach bug, because Hogwarts had a lot of budget cuts this year thanks to Albus Bumble the App Door and his shitty budgeting, so they had to fire all of the nurses and magic nurses and so the children recieved no medical care.
THATS THE END OF THIS CHAPPIE! NOT CHAPPIE THE ROBOT FROM THAT TERRIBLE DIE ANTWOORD MOVIE, GOD. CHAPTER. THANKS 4 READING, WE LOVE ALL OF OUR SUPER DEVOTED FANS WHO LEFT REVIEWS. WE LIKE THAT. WE LIKE LIKE THAT. WE HAVE A LOT OF FANS. BC IT'S HOT IN HERE. SUMMER, AM I RIGHT?
#summerlovin #summernights #greasefire
"The love of a mother is the veil of a softer light between the heart and the heavenly Father" -Samuel Taylor Coleridge