Everything published as of 9/14/2021 is being put into the public world because it's all been lying around in my Google Docs and I just want to put it out there for people to read. Please feel free to take any of my story prompts and flesh them out however you see fit. Cheers!


Harry Potter : Electric Boogaloo

"So where's your money going?"

October 30th, the anniversary of my parents' death. Well, soon to be. And usually the time where the shit aligns with the fan that it'll hit at the end of the school year.

Boy oh boy am I excited.

And I guarantee that something is gonna happen this year, as has for the past 3 years. Once is a coincidence, twice is a line, three times is a pattern. And if that pattern is correct, I'll probably somehow end up in this obscene Triwizard tournament.

Honestly, why is it school children that are the target demographic for a tournament with a death count? Like what smooth brain wizard shagged his goat and imagined up this?

Oh, hello there!

Sorry about the rant, but like, if you really think about it, why not just get rid of the tournament? I don't care if it's tradition, tradition once meant getting married and being watched while you shag your significant other to make sure an heir is produced.

Seriously! European histories got some weird shit, although it's only for royals, but it's the principle that counts.

Sorry I'm ranting again. Hey, hi, uh I'm Harry Potter, and welcome to my 4th year of Hogwarts.

"I dunno, where's your money going?" I backhand at Ron.

Ron, Hermione, and I are taking a stroll on through the castle down to the hall, where the 2 other schools will be making their appearance.

"Well I personally think that Durmstrang is going to be taking home the trophy, what with their focus on the dark arts, according to my dad, they must have something up their sleeves", Ron smartly responds. Hermione just shakes her head.

"If I were you, I'd take that money and put it on Harry. I guarantee you that he'll somehow get in, regardless of the age line," is Hermione's response. Ron chuckles and wraps his right arm around her shoulder, to which she snuggles closer.

Damn them and them dating, making me the constant third wheel, the bastards.

Though it's not all bad I suppose, some of Hermione's muggle logic and sense has rubbed off onto him, so he's not as stubborn or an arse as much, which makes my life so much easier.

"Honestly, that's not a bad idea", Ron ponders. "Say Harry, could you-"

"Enter the tournament somehow? Forget that." Though giving it some thought I respond again.

"Actually, I'll take you up on that bet, knowing my luck". Ron just grins, to which I just roll my eyes and snort.

It's all fun and games when it comes to my misfortune. Or fortune depending on how you look at it.

If you squint and tilt your head.

Arriving at the great hall, it's glow and warmth bleed into the stale and dry limestone hall through its grand oak doors, which have been thrown open.

Crossing into the hall, the chatter and presence of the whole school really give it that feeling of life and mirth. What a world it is.

Floating candles that don't seem to melt, as well as ghostly figures fly and hover throughout the hall as adolescents fill their weary souls with greasy, savory, and homely food after a good day of studying.

Though there seems to be a lack of food, rather only platters and bowls. I assume they're going to fill when the other schools arrive.

Stepping towards the table under the shimmering and twinkling banner of Gryffindor, we take our seat.

Hermione in my far right, with Ron immediately to my right.

Suddenly a plate appeared in front of me, as well as the usual cutlery, but still no food.

'Hmm, look at that'

"So, Harry", Ron starts, picking up a butter knife and twirling it between his fingers. He drops it very quickly.

"Hmm?" I grab the knife and give it whirl. I manage to keep it going for a while.

Ron grabs a pitcher of water and pours himself a glass. "You can come to hogsmeade right? Sirius signed the form for you, yeah?"

"Yup". The knife drops and clatters to the floor. Dang.

"Wicked, now we don't need to worry about looking like we're talking to ourselves", Ron grins taking a sip of water. Hermione reaches for the knife I dropped.

Don't know how it got over to her but whatever.

"Well, I'm probably gonna hang out with Neville or Malfoy honestly. You two get too touchy with each other for me." It's not like I'm wrong, they get weird when they're together.

Oh yeah, and Malfoy. Y'all are probably like 'whoaaa what's this about?'

Well this summer was pretty big in terms of quidditch, and as the World Cup was in England, we were at the heart of it.

So, that meant that if I was to go to watch matches, I was also gonna see Malfoy quite a bit. It sucked, like real bad, in the beginning, but just by being in proxy with each other, we began talking.

By talking I really mean throwing petty insults at each other, but we got better. More so that as he threw insults at me, I kinda got a view on the view on his home. And honestly, I kinda get where he's coming from.

He's trying to be like his dad and obviously looks up to him, and to an extent fears and revers him, which is crystal clear with his catchphrase 'My father will hear about this!'

Though his father isn't really the best role model. And things with the death eaters are getting kind of tense, so Lucius is projecting that anger into Malfoy, which stresses Malfoy out, and chooses to take out on my friends with the somewhat racist (?) insults.

Obviously we talked about this, but not so bluntly. But yeah, cutting a long story short, we've kind of come to understanding, where if he doesn't insult the Weasleys, or my family, then I can help him with his family with some good old muggle therapy and common sense.

I read a few psychology books over the summer. Everyone needs a hobby.

Well a hobby that doesn't want you to strangle your opponents when you lose. I get angry in quidditch.

Turns out he's got a real dry sense of humor, which is honestly kinda funny, but I digress.

"Well, it's nice to see Malfoy getting better I suppose" Hermione starts. She spares a glance to Ron, who just rolls his eyes.

"Yeah real nice of you guys to get chubby with the guy who dissed my family."

I go to retort his claim, but he holds a hand up, surprising me as he usually doesn't have much more to say when I come to Malfoy other than 'he's a git'.

"But, I do get that it's not him and it's just his circumstances so I'll tolerate him." He finishes, before taking a sizable swallow from his glass, looking ever so pleased.

Hermione just beams. Seems that reason has finally hit Ron. Good on him.

Fred and George choose to make their appearance by ruffling Ron's hair. Ron's hair has grown quite a bit. Enough to have it flick out behind the bottom of his neck. Hermione likes it long, is what he told me.

Oddly enough they seem somewhat put out, which is strange for them.

"What's up?" I ask. George just shakes his head.

"Just bummed out." He starts

"About what?" Ron asks, putting his chin on his palm. Hermione smooths out his hair, to which he lets a low sigh out.

"About your damn hair Ron, you look like a bum." Fred easily answers. Ron just shrugs.

"The missus likes it, who am I to complain? And it looks wicked when fly", Ron shoots back.

Hermione blushes lightly at being called his 'missus'.

The twins take a seat to my left. Apparently they tried to pry some info out of McGonagall about the tournament, but it clearly isn't what's bothering them so I let it slide.

"Hmm, wonder what the tasks are gonna be. If you get picked it'll probably be a breeze." Ron thinks aloud. I'm inclined to agree, but at the same time I couldn't care about the tournament.

"Honestly if any of us get in we'll be fine." Us being Ron, Hermione, and me.

"Not in front of a panel of judges. McGonagall says the champions get awarded points on how well they've done the task" says Fred.

"Who're the judges?" Ron asks.

Hermione answers. "The heads of the schools participating usually. Though that may not be entirely accurate. Hogwarts, A History really does need a revision."

Humming in response, the bell suddenly rang.

The other schools would be arriving soon.

We headed back up to Gryffindor tower, put our bags and books away, and changed into thicker robes.

Rolling up my pant legs so they wouldn't get caught and straightening the tongue on my sneakers, Ron, Hermione and I head down to the entrance hall.

The heads of the house are getting their respective houses in line.

"Granger, straighten Ronald's hair," McGonagall barks. "Neville straitened your hat and tuck your tie in."

As we file down the steps outside of the castle, I'm immediately regretful I didn't wear wool socks. Or just thicker shoes.

These vans are not cutting it.

We wait in an excited and tense murmur. It's six o'clock according to Ron's watch.

Gasps suddenly ring out. "Oohs" and "aahs" are soon to follow. It appears the first school has arrived.

And it appears the first school is arriving in a carriage. Huh. How bout that.

Pulled by a dozen winged horses, it lands with incredible speed. More than enough to spook the ones in the front.

And- Jesus lord! Those horses are huge! Those hooves have got to be the size of dinner plates!

Their golden sheen and scarlet, fiery red eyes, certainly make for an intimidating stallion.

A boy in sky blue robes hops down from the carriage, and unrolls a red velvet carpet from under the carriage.

He jumps to the side as a golden set of steps spring to where he was just standing.

A shoe- Christ almighty- a sled? No, a shoe the size of a child's sled, glossy and black, emerges. Along with easily the largest women I've ever seen.

"Money that she's the headmistress," Ron grumbles to me.

"You've got a problem with betting mate," I murmured back. He elbows me and I stifle a laugh.

The woman, Madame Maxime, converses with Dumbledore. I don't really pay attention and my feet are getting numb. But I do pick up on the fact that she wants the horses to drink whiskey.

"Did she just ask 'single-malt whiskey' be fed to those horses?" I hiss to Ron.

He just shrugs. "I suppose so. Imagine treating horses better than students"

Hermione rolls her eyes. "Those are Abraxan horses. They're seriously powerful as well as quite hard to breed. Of course she wants them as comfortable as possible."

Ron and I just nod our heads, not really in the mood for a lesson. Ron wraps his arm around Hermione's waist as she shivers. I just roll my eyes.

Madame Maxime makes a gesture for her students to follow her in. A number of pretty blondes and many of them wrapped up in thin silk layers flock to her.

I make eye contact with one, rather nice looking girl, probably a few years older than me. Pretty, glittering blue eyes widen then quickly turn away. She flushes but she also just blew into her hands so she's probably cold.

As they exit we continue to wait for Durmstrang, I space out for a bit, until a ship appears, much to the excitement of others.

I peer over and see a grand, ghastly ship meander over, until an anchor drops into the still water.

I don't quite pay attention to what the headmaster, Kakaroff, says to Dumbledore, but I do take note, as does Ron with a punch to my arm, that Vicktor Krum is attending Hogwarts this year.

Now that is pretty sick.

Ron, thankfully, holds his excitement as we regress into the Great Hall, with the French students looking, less than eager to be here.

I look for the pretty girl earlier, but they don't look approachable right now, so I focus my attention to Dumbledore, who's already started his annual spiel.

I pick up another butter knife and try to twirl it again, keeping it rotating, only for it to fly off to my right, hitting Ron.

He gives me a look as he flicks it back to me, hitting my shoulder. I give him a grin to which he returns.

I hear someone giggle to my left, and low and behold, the pretty girl from earlier is sitting there, blonde hair and all, a few seats down and across from me.

Her hand is over her mouth with a grin and, my word, do I like her laugh. She seems to be making small talk with Katie Bell, but soon gets up and moves to Ravenclaw to talk to her friends I assume.

I tune back into Ron and Hermione's conversation.

"-less you," I hear Ron say.

"It's French," Hermione says, "I had it on holiday summer before last. It's very nice."

"I'll take your word for it," and helps himself to some black shellfish pudding.

We eat in silence, but silence is really just relative, because the hall seems to be much more packed, and noisy, but really there's like 20 more students.

Hagrid makes his way down to use and makes a bit of small talk about his Skrewts.

"Excuse me?"

I turn my attention to the pretty, if accented, voice behind me.

Imagine that, it was the pretty girl that laughed at me throwing my practice twirling baton at Ron. She gives me a petite smile. Aww.

"Hello there," I greet. Shame I don't know her name.

"Ello. A-are you wanting ze bouillabaisse?" Ah, she's clearly not good with English. Shame I don't know French.

"Yeah, you can have it," I lift the dish to her.

"You've 'ave finished wiz it?"

"Yeah," Ron takes a sip of water., answering for me. "Excellent dish."

He turns to Hermione. "That really was nice."

She gave a simple smile. The pretty blonde nods to me, and takes her leave, swishing her hair at me. Cinnamon. That's pleasant.

Ron, though, follows her leave with a furrowed brow. Funny, he's thinking. Usually that's Hermione's job.

"What's on your mind champ?" I ask. Ron just scowls at me, and he finishes swallowing.

"Once again, I'm betting money."

"Oh yeah? Where's your addiction pulling you?" I humor him.

"It's pulling me to the conclusion that that girl may or may not be a veela."

Hermione slaps his shoulder, looking affronted.

"Of course she isn't!" said Hermione tartly. "I'd don't see anyone else gaping at her like an idiot!"

"Uh, Hermione? Take a look down the hall." I respond amused. She's probably not too happy that her boyfriend is eyeing up another girl. Ron thankfully catches onto this, and gives Hermione a kiss on her forehead. Aren't they cute.

"Okay, maybe not, but, she had a pull, like the ones at the world cup," Ron explained, if hurriedly. I raise an eyebrow.

"Don't know about that one mate, really just think she's a normal girl honestly," I responded amused. Ron just shrugs and resumes his meal, while Hermione eyes up the staff table.

This'll be an interesting year.


HOLY SHIT I KNOW ITS BEEN YEARS SINCE I'VE UPLOADED ANYTHING AND IT'LL BE YEARS MORE TO COME BUT WAIT! It's currently a Tuesday afternoon and if you're reading this, then you're more than likely coming from my MHA fic. If not - toodles - move along now.

But for those of you who are I can say with utmost confidence that it will not be updated. My passion for the MHA fandom has faded those long 4 years ago of publishing it. The stories I may or may not post will be in fandoms of my own choosing and there's no say in it. Sorry, not sorry.

Oh yeah, and feel free to adopt that fic if y'all want, I don't really care what you do with it. Go crazy. But not too crazy. Cheers!