|The Vampoife Dood Who Lifed
Author: Riddell Lee PM
A Mary Sue has infiltrated the world of Harry Potter and decided to combine it with Twilight. Four unwilling and snarky readers of the story are drawn into the brave new world of magic, sparkles, and interactive narrators.Rated: Fiction T - English - Humor/Adventure - Harry P. & Edward - Chapters: 7 - Words: 22,813 - Reviews: 71 - Favs: 41 - Follows: 55 - Updated: 06-02-11 - Published: 01-23-10 - id: 5690584
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N: Seriously? The last update was in July? We feel horrible for making our loyal readers wait so long. But (excuse time!) we've had a lot of stuff going on with graduation. That's almost over now, so, hopefully... yeah, you'll see more chapters. Sooner. Like... 11 months sooner. Please don't hurt us. This chapter is the kick-off for the next one - dur - but, you'll be seeing WAY more Lilac soon. Aren't you overjoyed?
There was no coffee.
Unable to think up an existing swear word that quite covered that, Dean made up a few on the spot, which earned him some looks from the surrounding students and did absolutely nothing to make him feel any better. Sighing, he finished the rampage with a slightly melodramatic claim of, "I'm doomed."
"Would you like some toast with your certain demise?" L asked.
"Do you ever sleep?"
"Sleep is for the weak." He pushed his untouched plate of toast across the table and opted to pour a copious amount of syrup onto his empty plate, and then eat it with his fingers.
Between that and B speed-eating a jar of strawberry jam, it was difficult to find a non-nausea-inducing place to look.
The moment of confused disgust didn't last long, however.
There were series a sudden of horrible, bone-chilling shrieks from near the doors. The Great Hall fell silent, hundreds of students turning as one to stare in horror at what had caused several Ravenclaw students to scream in mortal terror.
Kate stood in the doorway, though she was barely recognizable. Her skin and clothing were a nasty shade of grey-brown, the result of a thick coat of undried mud. Her hair, already not much to be proud of, had likewise been transformed into a wild, tangled mess of mud, grass, and pine needles. She appeared to be missing a shoe.
There were a few seconds of ringing silence, which Lilac eventually broke with a cry of, "ous ugli!2"
A few of the Slytherins snickered. The Ravenclaws seemed to be trying to politely suppress a gag reflex. Someone made a comment about how much they hated "that girl", in a tone that clearly suggested Lilac to be the girl in question, and in moments everyone had returned to their normal activities as if Kate's arrival was the most ordinary thing that they had seen in days.
Considering the Mary Sue's presence, it probably was.
Kate eventually trudged over to where the rest of her "friends" were sitting. Without looking up, L handed her a few napkins, and she began wiping off her face with a murmur of thanks.
"Wow," Dean said after a moment. "You lost the fight with nature, then?"
"Tried to escape. Went through the forest. Big swamp. Lilac's fault. Big dog. Need place to die." She managed to clear away about half of the mud, making her recognizably human again, and shot a glance in Lilac's direction. "I swear by the rings of Sarpedion V. She. Will. Pay."
"Star Trek fan?"
Even through the layer of mud glazing her cheeks, Kate's blush was practically luminous. "I, uh… well, yeah, kind of. I just, you know, watch the episodes…"
But this was simply too good to pass up. Dean gestured towards Lilac, smirking. "What're you going to do, curse her in Klingon?"
Kate's eyes narrowed. "It's the fastest growing language on the planet."
"Seriously, though, will you? It's almost worth letting you do it just so I can tell the story."
"I won't. If I started showing off for everyone who asked, I'd be the laughing stock of my clan."
"We just— it's not a big deal! We just get together sometimes, hang out, role-play – it's nothing I'm ashamed of!"
This sent Dean into a fit of sleep-deprived laughter, but at the words 'role-play', B had abruptly twisted around to face her, a sort of maniacal light coming into his eyes. "…You ever role-play…Twilight?"
"I've never exactly read it—"
"You should. I think you'd make a great Alice." He smiled slowly. "I've got just the right costume, too. If you're ever bored, or something. Mmm. I love Alice… I mean, really."
There was silence. A few uncomfortable glances were traded, though B seemed oblivious as ever.
Sam eventually came to the rescue. "…He hasn't slept in a while."
After managing to eat a few morsels of toast – quite a challenge as Edward Cullen had just entered the room and B was loudly fantasizing about what he wanted to do with him– Kate figured it was high time she got a change of clothes. Dean instantly got to his feet.
"I'll go with you."
Kate stared at him. "No, it's alright. I mean, you literally can't come with me."
"I'm not going to changewith you," Dean said, a slight smirk forming. "Unless…"
She raised an eyebrow. Most people in this situation would be too distracted by the abject horror of being a trapped in an alternate dimension with a Mary Sue to be on the lookout for the ladies. Most people weren't Dean Winchester.
"Right, that's a no. Anyway, I'm just going to walk you there…" He glanced at Lilac who had begun to tap-dance on the Hufflepuff table, singing some melody about eternal love. One of the younger students had burst into tears. "I would reallylike to go with you."
Kate sighed but didn't protest. "Fine. Let's hurry; I think I'm going to gag."
Dean nodded and followed her from the Great Hall. The walk was rather silent for the most part. Kate saw Dean open his mouth several times in an attempt to fill the silence, but he always seemed to change his mind at the last moment. She didn't mind. She was covered in mud, fairly certain that it was the stinky clay kind, and was growing increasingly miserable. It was when they'd reached the Gryffindor Common room that Kate realized not only did she not have any clothes here, but didn't even have a room.
"Great…" she said, hitting her forehead.
"What, forget something important?"
"Yup… I have no change of clothes."
"I'm trying really hard not to take that in a dirty way… but—"
She smacked the back of his head. "Shut up."
Dean was spared answering – and digging himself a deeper hole – when Harry and Ron came down from their dormitory. Harry was obviously in a very bad mood.
"I just hate her," he was saying. "I hate her, from the bottom of her hooves to the top of her pitchfork."
Ron shook his head. "Sorry, mate. Don't know why this stuff always happens to you…"
"Well, the fact that I'm the main character might have something to do with it…"
"For once, I don't envy you a bit."
"It's still better than all those fics pairing you with your brothers…"
Ron almost physically jumped and shot him an alarmed look. "New topic."
"I hate to interrupt," Dean said with a cough, "but you wouldn't happen to know where Kate here could get a clean change of clothes?"
Harry stared for a moment at Kate, taking in her disastrous appearance. "Er… sure, I guess. What happened?"
"Tried to escape."
"Oh." He asked for no further elaboration. "Well, follow me, then."
It turned out that they were headed for the kitchens. Personally, Kate didn't see how that was going to help. That was, until Harry explained that the house-elves down there would be able to give her a spare robe and clean her clothes for her. She frowned, she'd much rather have one of her holey-jeans and a T-shirt than a Hogwarts robe. She was well into her twenties, after all… As Harry tickled the pear in the painting, Kate wondered for the first time how she could even see and function at Hogwarts, being a normal person. Wasn't there some kind of muggle barriers or something?
"Welcome to the kitchens, Kate," Dean said with a broad grin. She raised her eyebrows, but didn't respond as she followed Harry inside. She gasped.
"Harry Potter!" Dobby the house-elf was before them instantly smiling broadly, his huge brown eyes slightly watery. "How is you Harry Potter? Dobby promises to never let that, that thing, inside. Never again, Harry Potter, sir."
"That's a relief," said Ron with a chuckle. Harry traded knowing looks with him.
"Dobby," he said looking back at Kate, "Can you maybe get my friend some clean clothes?"
Dobby nodded. "Yes! Harry Potter, sir!" He bowed and – along with half a dozen other elves – darted away. While they were gone, another group approached, carrying a plate of tea and biscuits. Kate blinked several times, taking it all in. Dean laughed.
"Have a cup of tea," he said nudging her. She nodded, wordlessly and proceeded to down the glass, burning her throat slightly in the process. She sputtered, making several of the elves to survey her with expressions of worry, as though not quite sure she was all there.
Before she could even say thank you, Dobby was scurrying back, carrying a perfectly folded black robe in his arms. Behind him, other house-elves were bringing shoes, socks, a tie and, - to her horror – some underwear.
She elbowed Dean in the gut as he started to laugh. Ron fidgeted awkwardly.
"Here you go young Miss!" Dobby said presenting the clothes to her. She nodded and quickly darted away to get dressed, her face unbearably hot as Dean shouted after her, "I wish they had Victoria Secret!"
Dean was in a good mood. He'd ditched his brother and his creepy… "friend"… teased Kate, and saw some feminine underwear.
Life was good.
Of course, Kate was still seething, and very red. He thought it was sorta cute. Harry and Ron had been silent for the most part, Ron's ears slightly pink, Harry awkwardly wringing his knuckles.
It was at that moment that they rounded the corner to find an irate Draco Malfoy furiously hurtling jinxes at a portrait, the occupant of which had long since fled. They froze in their tracks, and after a moment Malfoy looked up, panting slightly.
And yet, he still had the inherent laudable self-confidence from who-knows-where, to icily demand, "What?"
Ron gestured to the now off-kilter portrait. "Could you hazard a guess?"
Half-amused, Dean noted that Malfoy looked oddly tired and drawn, a faint blush spreading across his pale face. That last bit might have had something to do with the fact that he'd just been caught in the act of unleashing his fury on and inanimate object.
His emotional distress was further evidenced by the fact that he continued talking to them. "Professor Snape's making me keep taking Charms with that… that thing!"
"Look, I know Flitwick isn't exactly your favorite person in the world—"
"No!" Malfoy looked around wildly before dropping his voice to a whisper. "The Sue."
Harry was unable to suppress a smile. "Why do bad things happen to good people?"
"Shove off, Potter. You've got no idea what it's like."
"Oh really? Tell me, has she tried to shove her tongue down your throat yet?"
"She turned my girlfriend into a guy!"
"You must've been overjoyed."
There was a loud bang. Kate shrieked something incoherent and the next minute Harry was thrown back onto the ground.
"Hey!" Dean yelled, but Malfoy had already darted away. He turned around, Ron and Kate leaning over a slightly burnt Harry Potter.
"Blimey, are you okay mate?" Ron asked shocked.
"I feel okay. How do I look?" Harry sat up and adjusted his glasses, which had at some point fallen off his face.
"Like you lost a fight with a blast-ended skrewt. So, about the same as usual."
Harry grinned. "Worth it. Completely worth it."
Dean shook his head. These wizards were insane. He glanced at his watch and swore. "I have to… be somewhere. Like… now," and with that he pelted down the corridor a "I'll look you up later!" hanging in the air behind him.
He was going to be late for his class.
Sam couldn't remember the last time he'd seen any textbook that was quite as interesting as this one. He'd been far from the books of Stanford for years now, separated from new information and forced to continuously peruse the same worn pages of his father's journal again and again, rarely learning anything new. The Transfiguration book he'd borrowed, however, was entirely new. He had no prior knowledge of magic, and even if learning the terminology and application wouldn't be exactly useful to him, if was still a fascinating glimpse into a culture he only knew the basics of. But for some reason, no amount of reading had ever looked less appealing.
B was still staring at Edward.
…Not that it mattered.
Still completely uninterested in the book before him, Sam transferred his attention to the unused quill he held in his hand. It was lightweight, well-made. Probably fashioned from a Barn Owl's feather. It had the right tawny coloring, speckled with white along the edges. Then again, he wasn't entirely sure if that color was exclusive to Barn Owls. One of life's little mysteries.
Well, this was fun.
B? Still staring.
In fact, looking around the classroom, pretty much everyone was staring, glancing between Edward and B with expressions ranging from confusion to concern. Granted, it probably did look a little weird to have some random guy with red eyes just staring at poor, unsuspecting—
Okay, no. Edward was staring back at him. (Looking a little worried, true, but still.) This was going too far.
Sam quickly seized hold of a piece of parchment and attempted to write a short message with the quill, which was rather more difficult than it looked. Ink blotted on the page at random places, leaving the note barely legible.
He slid it across the desk to B, feeling oddly as if he were back in high school again. B glanced down, tilted his head to the side and frowned before scribbling a quick response.
You can't just ditch. You're my best friend. I'll die if you leave me.
Yeah, well, your "best friend" would prefer not to watch you drooling over a guy who sparkles.
B drew in a sharp breath as he read this, and wrote more quickly. His scribbled response was nearly indecipherable.
Don't you dare dismiss the sparkles! Edward Cullen is good, and pure, and wonderful!
No. Just no.
Fine, bitch. Where are you going?
I don't know. I'm going for a walk.
Not waiting to give B another chance to intercept his attempts to flee the premises, Sam quickly gathered up his things and headed for the door. McGonagall looked up as he was leaving, but did not try to stop him. "Close the door on your way out," she sighed.
When Dean finally found the Potions classroom, he was at least ten minutes late. He'd gone down the wrong hallway, and a ghost had given him crappy directions… you'd think he be able to find a dungeon. Rolling his eyes, he strode in to a whispering classroom.
"Hey! Sorry I'm late, guys."
They stared at him.
He cleared his throat and made an attempt to salvage the scenario. By changing the topic. "Where's the pale guy?"
One of the girls in the front row – Harmony? He was pretty sure her name was something along those lines – spoke up. "Straightening out class schedules. He said you could manage on your own."
"I'm sure he did." Sounded like just the sort of thing the guy would do. Dean had the feeling this was the beginning of what was going to be an… adventure. He had no earthly idea what sort of things were taught in wizard school. Sam was the nerd. Sure, telling them about all the shit he dealt with on a daily basis was an option, but they didn't exactly have to rely on rock salt and iron. Hell, their ghosts seemed almost friendly. Like Casper's extended family or something.
Well, there had to be some common ground here.
"So what do you guys know about cursed objects?"
Almost instantly, the same girl's hand shot into the air.
Dean gave up. He was too tired to feel awkward. "What's your name?"
Whoa, imagine growing up with that handle. Yikes.
"Okay. Yeah. You. Go."
"Cursed Objects are… objects which have been cursed," she said. "Usually by a dark wizard, and usually with the intent of causing harm to a person or persons. Examples would be a book which sears the eyes of any would-be readers, or a Hand of Glory—"
Dean choked on laughter.
"—which is the severed hand of a man who was hanged as a murderer…" She trailed off.
He was in a class of teenagers. Not the time to start making dirty jokes. He took a deep breath, recovering. Keep it together. "Right. Exactly. Except for all that crap about dark wizards. It doesn't take a wizard to make a cursed object." He stuffed a hand into his pocket, felt a tiny tuft of fur beneath his fingers, and dragged out the rabbit's foot.
This class might actually be fun after all.
Ron seemed like the most laid back member of the group, the least likely to panic or take things too seriously.
It made him the perfect target.
"Hey, Ginger Kid. Catch."
He tossed the foot across the room in a low arch. Ron caught it… barely. For some reason, Harry suddenly cringed, as if this was some sort of negative omen for the future. Maybe they were on some sort of wizard baseball team together. With jerseys. And a magical scoreboard that counted in dead languages.
Heh. That was just ridiculous. Wizards didn't have sports.
Ron examined the foot for a moment, rolling it between his hands with a look of ultimate confusion. "What the…?"
"It's your lucky day," Dean said, pacing to the front of the room. "You see, that is the, uh, left hind foot of a rabbit, cut off in a cemetery during a full moon on Friday the thirteenth. So it's legit. You'll have crazy awesome luck… until you lose it. And trust me, you will lose it. Then your luck will turn bad. So bad that you'll eventually… die. Horrifically."
Ron looked suitably terrified, which Dean took a moment to enjoy before deciding to be merciful. "I'm kidding, dude. I bought that one at a casino."
Ron gave a huge sigh. "Bloody hell…"
"That is how you make a 'lucky' rabbit's foot, though. No dark wizards involved. And the only way to stop it is—"
"To cast Finite Incantatem," said a dark voice from the doorway. "Which I'm sure everyone who attended this class in their second year will remember."
Well, what a friggin' surprise. Snape stood there, looking like some sort of oversized bat. From the look on his face – like he'd just smelled something particularly distasteful – Dean had a feeling that the professor wasn't particularly pleased with these teaching methods.
After a split second's tension, he shrugged and tried to act like it was completely normal to see some sort've creepy ass Goth wannabe interrupting the class. "Thought you were going to leave it up to me today."
Snape ignored him, sweeping up to the front of the class. "Thank you, Winchester. I'll take it from here." Without waiting for a response, he went on, "Now that that little… pop quiz… is out of the way, we'll move on to today's actual subject. Nonverbal spells. Can anyone tell me what the advantage of—"
Hermione raised her hand. Dean was starting to get the feeling that this would be a pretty easy class to skate through, with her answering all the questions.
"…casting a nonverbal spell is," Snape finished. He looked around, as if desperately hoping to find someone else who has the answer… and made the mistake of glancing at Dean. Who, of course, couldn't pass up an opportunity like that.
Grinning, he pointed to Hermione. "I think she had her hand up first."
Snape's face contorted in what was either a very large twitch or a very small seizure. He turned back to the class with a smile that looked more like a grimace. "Very well – Miss Granger."
"Your adversary has no warning about what kind of magic you're about to perform, which gives you a split-second advantage," she said without hesitation.
Snape took on an icy tone. "An answer copied almost word for word from The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Six," he said.
"But it is correct in essentials," Snape went on. "Yes, those who progress to using magic without shouting incantations gain an element of surprise in their spell-casting. Not all wizards can do this, of course; it is a question of concentration and mind power which some…" His gaze fell on Harry. "…lack."
Dean was starting to see why this kid was the main character. If you had the balls to just glare back at Tall, Dark, and Creepy after a look like that, you friggin' deserved that title of honor.
"You will now divide into pairs," Snape said. "One partner will attempt to jinx the other without speaking. The other will attempt to repel the jinx in equal silence. Carry on."
There was a murmur of activity as everyone paired off. Snape turned back to his desk and began straightening a few rolls of parchment.
"Thought you were going to leave it up to me today," Dean repeated.
Snape twirled his wand in his fingers and shot him a murderous look. "Need I remind you that I am fully capable of utilizing this?"
Dean grinned. "You kinky bastard, I don't swing that way." Because it probably wasn't a good idea to leave that hanging out there, he quickly cast around for a distraction. In a classroom full of wizards, it wasn't difficult to find. "Hey, check out the ginger kid. He's gonna give himself an aneurism."
Indeed, Ron, who was supposed to be jinxing Harry, was now purple in the face, his lips tightly compressed to save himself from the temptation of muttering the incantation. Harry was watching him nervously.
"Pathetic, Weasley. Here, let me show you—"
He turned toward Harry, wand raised, and a look of utter terror fell across the young wizard's face. All thought of nonverbal spells clearly forgotten, he suddenly shouted some sort of random gibberish. A spell, maybe, apparently one so strong that Snape is knocked off balance. He glared at Harry, straightening his robes.
"Do you remember me telling you that we were practicing nonverbal spells, Potter?"
"Yes," Harry said stiffly.
"There's no need to call me 'sir,' Professor."
A few people gasped.
"Detention," Snape said. "Saturday night. My office. I do not take cheek from anyone, Potter… including the Chosen One."
"Oh. No." Edward Cullen froze in the process of getting up from his seat. He seemed to be considering running for his life, and B didn't blame him. You never knew when Lilac could ambush you around here. At last, slowly, he turned. "Hello, B."
Edward Cullen remembered my name! I love the way he says my name. I love his voice. I should get him to say that again. I wonder if he'll let me touch his hair…
What he actually said was the closest he could come to being articulate with all of those thoughts running around in his head. "You've never worn that shirt on a Tuesday before."
"Well… no. I haven't."
"You look… good." Perfect, flawless, Adonis-like; other synonyms for beautiful. "That color really compliments your eyes." And your skin, and your hair, and your perfect body, and—
"Uh… thanks, B."
HE SAID IT AGAIN! Yes, yes, yes! My life is complete…
"You're welcome, Edward Cullen."
They stared at each other.
Oh. Wait. He can read my thoughts.
"Yes, I can," Edward Cullen said. He gave a small, awkward smile. A beautiful crooked smile.
B sighed and found himself smiling back. "Well. I'm sorry you had to hear that, then."
"Er, it's no big deal. Was there anything you wanted?"
"Yes. Oh, you mean right now. Yeah. I was going to ask you to have lunch with me." He lowered his voice. "You know, like you did with Bella, on page two-hundred six of Twilight. The 2005 edition, I mean. Not the new one with this bad cover art, the good one." The edition that Sammy had thrown out the window after B had bought a wolf for Dean. That edition. "I know you don't really like food, but, well, I imagined that I could eat something and you could talk to me. And we could exchange longing looks with one another from across the table."
"B, I don't really know if that's a good idea… I was planning on playing the piano today for… an indefinite amount of time."
"Oh, please, Edward Cullen. Please."
"I don't think I can—"
"Okay, do whatever you have to do, then we'll meet up. We can always switch lunch to dinner… Or I could get us some food and I could join you while you play piano for an indefinite amount of time. I won't disturb you, I promise. Unless you want me to."
Edward Cullen looked at him for a long moment with those beautiful, scorching ocher eyes. He shuddered. Sighed. "All right. Lunch, then. Come on."
At 12:03, Edward was regretting that decision.
At 12:06, Hogwarts was very close to complete annihilation.