Disclaimer- I don't own Harry Potter.

AN: Inspired by an X/1999 fic I read a few weeks ago, I wanted to see if I could do a more humorous thing for Harry Potter, and make fun of a few clichés in the fanfiction world. Well, here's my attempt at HP humor. Warning: Don't take this seriously. It is definitely not as serious as anything else I've written for HP fanfiction... and is probably so completely OOC at times (which it is meant to be, of course) that you'll laugh because of how bad it is.

In a place called Number 4 Privet Drive, in his bed, Harry Potter was dreaming. Now that, in itself, isn't that impressive (unless you count the fact that authors only ever have Harry dream about something romantic or Voldemort.) (No, not in that way, perverts), except what he was dreaming about. Why he was dreaming these things was a good question. Was it some sort of prophetic dream, a vision into another universe? Was it that good knows how old rock cake he ate, rather than eat whatever horrible food the Dursleys gave him? Was it the sadism of the author?

No one knows. But his dreams do make good insights... or at least entertainment.

Lets have a look, shall we?

Voldemort was standing in front of Harry, at the gates of Hogwarts, wand raised, looking all evil and creepy and stuff with the glowing red eyes. "Now Potter, are you ready to fight?" The Dark Lord asked mockingly, withdrawing his wand from his robes. He already knew the answer. After all, Harry and Voldemort always fight (sometimes with some help, other times some random other character(s) kill Voldie through some convoluted measure).


Voldemort blinked. "What? You can't say no!" The Dark Lord sputtered, "That's against the Rules! You have to fight me! Its prophecy!"

"No," Harry replied, "Prophecy says one of us has to kill the other. Like I'm going to fight you!" Harry grinned maniacally. "Why get hurt when I could kill you easily."

The Dark Lord sneered. "Magic won't harm me Potter. A Killing Curse won't kill me."

"Who said anything about magic?" the Boy-Who-Lived replied.

And then Harry pulled out a handgun from his robes and shot a very surprised Voldemort in the head.

Harry was jerked awake after that, and wondered if that would actually work. Then of course, he realized that sixteen year olds aren't allowed to buy guns anywhere... at least legally. Sighing, he fell back asleep.

Harry was walking down a deserted corridor within Hogwarts, wondering why in the hell he was walking down a deserted corridor. But then suddenly... eerie music started playing! GASP!

"What the hell? What's going on?" Harry said, grabbing his wand from his robes.

Suddenly, randomly, out of the shadows steps... Lord Voldemort! GASP! Yes, the Heir of Slytherin in all his evil glory, breathing heavily, every breath easily heard from at least five meters away.

"Voldemort! My most hated foe!" Harry said heroically, raising his wand, but Voldemort raised a hand in a gesture of peace.

"Please Harry, you must listen to me." Voldemort said, his voice low and almost fatherly (ohh... Foreshadowing).

"Why should I? You tried to kill me multiple times!" Harry shot back.

"Because... I am your father."

"Who do you think you are? Darth Vader?" Harry asked incredulously.

"No, I'm serious."




"NOOOOOO!!!" Harry screamed, and started smashing his head into the floor, falling unconscious.

Then, Voldemort swept Harry off and took him to his creepy castle. For a few months, Harry tried to escape and deny the 'truth', then, through a few random, kind events from Voldemort that are completely out of character, Harry notices similarities between him and Voldemort, finally confronting the Dark Lord about their blood link.

"How can you be my father! I was born sixteen years ago! You're too old to have been father!" Harry argued.

"Ah, but I am a Dark Lord, and as such I am exceptionally virile for some reason..." Voldemort smirked, " and I went to Hogwarts with your parents." Voldemort added as an afterthought.

"That makes no sense!" Harry shot back. "You'd be twice as old as them already!"

"Just go with it." Voldemort muttered.

"Fine." Silence reigned, and then Harry threw himself into his father's arms. "I love you daddy, even though you tried to kill me so many times!"

"I love you too son!" Voldemort whispered, and now all of us either go AWWWW or WTF!

"WHAT THE HELL!" Harry yelled, jerking himself awake. "What in the hell... what the hell was that!"

"SHUT UP BOY!" Vernon roared from his bedroom.

"Sorry uncle," Harry managed, "Sorry. Won't happen again."

A loud snore that ripped the night told Harry that his Uncle had gone back to sleep, probably refraining from bursting in here and yelling at Harry because of the Order's threats.. Sighing, Harry really hoped he didn't dream again as he felt sleep overcome him again.

(Of course, he's at my non-existent mercy, so he's got no chance of that happening.)

Harry was walking down into the Great Hall, and before he could reach Gryffindor Table, Ron jumped in front of him. "Ron! What the hell!" Harry swore.

"Whassup my brotha!" Ron said, 'ghetto style', since you know, he's poor and stuff.

"Ron... what the hell are you saying?" Harry asked, but Ron strutted off, saying something about "pimping out his ride".

"Yo Potter." Draco Malfoy greeted, with a sneer. "I bet you're jealous of my bling bling!" He sneered, gesturing by shaking both his hands towards the gigantic golden circle on his chest that looked like a massive, oversized Galleon, hanging from his neck by a golden chain.

"What in the bloody hell is going on here!" Harry yelled, and the Slytherin gave another sneer and stalked off. "And what the hell is bling!" Harry added, yelling at the Draco's back. Turning towards the table, he saw that Hermione was sitting down already. And then he blinked. Hermione... was wearing leather?! And she was wearing make-up and staring hungrily after Draco, pouting with lips covered in black lipstick and a nose ring. "He's soooo hottt...." Hermione whispered.

"Is everyone okay?" Harry asked, but Hermione kept spouting out about how she wanted Malfoy's body, and as soon as Harry heard her mention Draco's.... thing... he tuned out, covering his ears.

"The hell?" Harry muttered, shaking his head and tried to go for breakfast, when Dumbledore stood up at the teacher's table.

"Yo Yo Yo Homies!" Dumbledore declared, wearing an orange, tiger striped suit with a white shirt and black pants, attire usually associated with pimps (actual ones). "Ya knaw I gotta buncha thangs on ma rap sheet to talk about, Yo!"

"What in the hell?" Harry muttered again, obviously out of the loop.

Dumbledore rambled on about random things, and ended with a, "Word to ya Mothas! I'm out bitches!"

And as Dumbledore stopped talking, maniacal, somewhat French sounding laughter rang out throughout the Great Hall. Materializing randomly in Hogwarts was... (drum roll please) VOLDEMORT!

As usual, everyone except the Slytherins started screaming, and Harry withdrew his wand to battle Voldemort. "Chill Harry!" Dumbledore said, withdrawing his wand. "Let me bust a cap in French speaking Voldemort's ass."

Before Harry could question his probably senile Headmaster, Voldemort did indeed start speaking French. "Je vous tuerai maintenant, les chiens de Britanniques !" Voldemort cried out, and then fired a Killing Curse at Dumbledore, who dodged it, and replied, "Like hell I am!"

"Ceci sera votre mort, votre écume mortelle !" Voldemort shot back, and fired some strange, really bright pink curse at Dumbledore, who jumped away, and snarled as he noticed that his pimp suit had been damaged, and fired off a curse.

"Je porte des sous-vêtements des femmes!" Voldemort declared, and for some reason, the French speaking students fell down in hysterical laughter.

"I do too, mofo!" Dumbledore declared, and now the French students were crying, going into convulsions with laughter as the Headmaster fired off another really cool spell.

"J'aime Justin Timberlake!" Voldemort shouted, and randomly, disappeared.

"What-" Harry just looked on in absolute confusion as he spoke, when suddenly a black car drove by the Gryffindor table, and suddenly Crabbe and Goyle popped out, one in the front half of the car, one in the back seat, and pulled out automatics, and started shooting up everyone at the Gryffindor table. As Harry pulled Hermione down with him, Dean Thomas, Seamus, and Neville pulled out automatics of they're own from their black suits that they were randomly wearing and started shooting back.

The Boy-Who-Lived watched in morbid fascination and disbelief as Dean fell after being shot, and Seamus screamed in outrage, "YOU KILLED MY BROTHA YOU MOFOS!" And started shooting in a berserk rage at Crabbe and Goyle, who drove on by faster, but both Neville and Seamus gave chase, shooting the black car.

Harry shook his head again, completely lost, hiding underneath the table, when all of a sudden, Hermione was replaced with someone else.

"Harry, I wanna screw ya..." Ginny Weasley whispered in his ear.

"GAH!" Harry yelped, spinning around. "Where the hell did you come from!"

Ginny giggled, and Harry registered that for some odd reason, she was wearing short shorts and an extremely form fitting t-shirt that barely covered her ample chest, showing off her belly. She was tanned and had make-up on, with earrings dangling from her ears.

"Shouldn't you be wearing robes-" Harry began, before Ginny pushed him down and crawled onto his lap.

"Screw me Harry..." Ginny whispered seductively.

"The hell does screw mean?" Harry muttered, but Ginny's look suddenly made him realize what she was thinking. "Hey... Gin... look... I don't think we should do this... at least not here," He added, but then suddenly Ginny pounced on him, and then...

Harry woke up. "Damn it!" Harry swore, before blushing as he realized it was just a dream and he had been lusting after Ginny Weasley. Sure he liked her... maybe more than a friend... but that... that was just weird! "And what the hell kind of talk was that..." Harry muttered, remembering how Dumbledore and Ron were talking... and how Voldemort spoke French.

"I need to get to sleep..." Harry groaned, remembering he had chores for the Dursleys to do tomorrow, and fell back into his pillows.

Harry was sitting in front of the Dursleys house... with a flamethrower. He didn't know why he was there, or what he was doing, or how in the hell he got a flamethrower, but the urge to burn down Number 4 was too great to resister, and he pushed the makeshift trigger, and a torrent of infernos blasted the house.

He knew he should have been feeling guilt... but instead he was feeling a sense of great elation, and then a great laugh burst from his lips, a laugh of insanity as he continued burning down Privet Drive with his flamethrower.

Once more, the Boy-Who-Lived was jerked awake, and swore under his breath. Would he never get to sleep? Quickly, he went downstairs carefully, and poured himself some milk, and warmed it up in the microwave, hoping the hum didn't awake the Dursleys. Thankfully, it didn't, and Harry downed the warm milk, and quickly washed it, put it back, and then went up to his room and fell asleep.

It was Christmas Eve. Somehow... Harry knew. Maybe it was the air, the festive mood, the snow... or the giant Christmas trees Hagrid placed everywhere, including his dorm.

As Harry sat at his windowsill, waiting for the midnight hour, not a creature was stirring, not even a house-elf. And- oh wait, sorry, wrong thing.


Anyhow, young Potter sat at the windowsill, watching the stars, when he heard a most wondrous sound. The sound of laughter, the sound of a jolly laugh that, although Harry had never heard it before, he associated with Him. Eagerly, the young man looked out the window, and much to his delight, he saw a sight many dared not hope to glimpse.

Yes, it was Lord Santa Riddle! The snake faced jolly man in a green suit that gave gifts to children, his magical green broom towed by his nine Death Reindeer. (Yes, you heard right)

"On Bellatrix! On Lucius! On Avery! On Nott!" Santa Riddle yelled, lashing out with his magic whip, and Bellatrix moaned in pleasure at the contact with the whip, which caused young Harry to shiver in fright, as well as many a Death Reindeer. Harry watched all the wondrous Reindeer pass, noting the rest as the snake-faced Santa yelled their names. "On Crabbe! On Goyle! On Dolohov! On Wormtail!"

And then Harry saw the lead Death Reindeer, that most talked about of them all. Yes, Severus Snape, the hook nosed reindeer, had a very hooked nose, and it helped him sniff out which way to go, and so Lord Santa Riddle asked him, "Won't you guide my broom tonight", and Snape winced at how wrong that sounded, but agreed.

"On Severus!" Lord Santa yelled, and whipped his hook nosed reindeer.

"Merlin! I told you not to do that!" Snape protested, but the snake faced man just smiled and laughed and the hook nosed man shook his head, wondering why he joined up for this.

"MERRY CHRISTMAS! AND TO ALL, A GOOD NIGHT!" Lord Santa Riddle declared, and rode off into the horizon.

"Okay... That is that last time I eat anything I know nothing about." Harry told himself, shaking with utter... both revulsion and fear at the dream. Sighing, Harry lay against his pillow, willing his dreams to go away as he passed back into slumber...

Harry sat with his friends at the Sorting Feast in the Great Hall, happy to be back at Hogwarts and to have survived the summer without incident. "Hey guys, where's Ginny, Neville, Luna, Dean, Seamus, Parvati, Lavender, and all the rest?" Harry asked.

"Oh, well they'll come back when the author needs them for some random thing, usually to get killed." Hermione replied.

Just then, Dumbledore stood up and said, "I'm pleased to announce we are having an exchange program from America."

"What the-there's never been an exchange program from America," Ron (yes, Ron) declared.

"How do you know?" Harry asked curiously.

"Because its in Hogwarts, a History," Ron answered matter-of-factly.

"When did you read Hogwarts, a History? I thought only Hermione read it!" Harry blinked in amazement.

"What are you talking about Harry? Like I'd bloody read Hogwarts a bloody History," Hermione said incredulously. "Ron's the know-it-all." She said, pointing at the redhead.

Before Harry could ask what was going on, the doors burst open, the sun burst from the clouds, shining as bright as a tropical island even though this is Scotland we're talking about, and music like that you'd find playing in a church began. Harry blinked once as he turned towards the entrance, and his jaw fell as he saw the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen before.

She had luxurious golden blond hair, beautiful crystal blue eyes that sparkled, a body that was impossible for a sixteen year old girl, an unmarked face, perfectly proportioned everywhere. Harry knew he was in love at that moment, even though he had never even seen her before.

"I am pleased to welcome Miss Mary Sue to our school." Dumbledore said.

The Sorting went well, and Mary was sent to Gryffindor (where else would she have gone). Immediately, she became great friends with Harry and Hermione and Ron, because she was as smart as Ron but as athletic as Hermione, and so Hermione and Ron got up and left.

"Hey, where are you guys going?" Harry asked.

"Oh, well we're going to disappear now since she takes up most of the lines in this story anyway. We'll be called on for comic relief or something." And with that, the other two members of the Trio disappeared.

For a few months, Harry and Mary were inseparable, but the Boy-Who-Lived got the feeling that Mary was hiding something from him. Finally, even though it was breaking his heart, he confronted her in a romantically dark hallway.

"Mary, what are you hiding from me?" Harry asked softly.

Mary Sue broke down and sobbed into Harry's chest. "Don't hate me please..."

"I could never hate you, even though chances are I'll hate you for what you say next." Harry declared.

"My real last name isn't Sue... its Riddle."


Harry gasped in shock, and fell to his knees. "NOOOOO!!!"

"But I love you Harry! I'll help you kill my father!" Mary Riddle declared and kissed Harry. When they broke apart, Harry smiled.

"I love you too Mary. Just one question though. You're sixteen. Tom must have been at least fifty by then. How the hell did Tom father you?" Harry asked, scratching his head in confusion.

"My family is very virile." She replied.

"Make's sense," Harry shrugged, and they kissed again.

And so, somehow through the magic of convoluted plotlines, Mary had the power to help Harry defeat her father, and then they lived happily ever after, and all the other canon characters just disappeared.

"Sweet flying Merlin!" Harry muttered, "Will these accursed dreams never stop?" He asked himself. However, just then, he felt the Merlin-knows-how-old food rise in his stomach and he ran into the bathroom, hurling violently. Eventually, it subsided, and a weary Harry Potter dropped back into his bed, not caring if he dreamt or not.

But without the hallucination inducing food, he did not dream any more wacky dreams.

Well, he did... but it's a bit too much for this rating. Suffice to say he'll never look at Ginny, tight black leather, and a whip the same way again.

AN: I know what you're all thinking. Yami's cracked! I'm writing HP humor for God's sake! Well let me tell you people, I cracked long before this. That Mary-Sue thing made me sick... ugh. That's why I hate including major OCs. Thanks for reading my attempt at HP humor and please, review and tell me whether I totally suck at this humor thing and should go back to my angst or if it was okay, or whatever!