Disclaimer: I do not own HARRY POTTER or anything else in this fic. I am not making any money off of this bit of idiocy. Please do not sue me.
A/N: Hello all, 'tis I, Lyrix. I've not been here in a while. But, I decided to write this because ... I was bored and waiting for the release of HBP. But as this was written before HBP's release and this story is taking place in Harry's seventh year, there are some things (major things) that are different. Yo. Like... well, I won't spoil the book (or my story, hee hee) for you. But things are different. Yup. So, please, read and review if you like it. And read and review if you don't like it. Because I like reviews.
Edit: 4 - 18 - 08 I'm editing my chapters, trying to fix any little errors I missed when I first posted them. Soooo. That's about it.
Chapter 1: Ron's A Loser!
"I'm so unappreciated!" Ronald Weasley was moaning woefully. Again. Because he's such a goddamn sissy boy. "Nobody loves me!" He wiped his face with his sleeve (Molly would be displeased) and continued his pitiful moaning. Even though no one else was around to hear him. Even good ol' Peeves had tired of the boy's constant self-pitying idiocy.
(Remember Peeves? The poltergeist? The one that was cruelly cut out of the movies? No? Me neither.)
"Everyone takes me for granted. I'm important, damn it, I have value! I'm more than just Harry's stupid sidekick! I'M SO MUCH MORE! I'm funny! I have more words in my vocabulary than 'wicked' and 'brilliant'! See, I just used the word 'vocabulary'! No one else can use so many exclamation points where they're not needed! Sometimes I say deep and meaningful things like -" He stopped and tried really hard to remember one time that he'd said something deep and meaningful.
And, shallow nincompoop that he is, he couldn't think of a damn thing.
He started to cry and wail.
"At least I'm… I'M A STRATEGIST! I ROCK AT CHESS!" He sniffled. "I'm more than a boy who's afraid of spiders! I'm a really horny seventeen year old virgin!" He cried even harder. "I'M IMPORTANT, DAMN IT!"
Meanwhile in the Great Hall:
"Hermione, where's … uhm…"
Two full minutes go by, during which an owl flies in and lands on Snape's head. Professor McGonagall points and laughs. Snape, is, obviously, pissed.
"Ron, Harry. The boy with red hair is RON." (Second time they'd been through this today).
"Yeah! Him! Sometimes I forget, you know?"
Hermione knew. Oh, how she knew… Wait, idiot boy with the scar was still talking.
"But it's okay, because no matter how incredibly dumb, forgetful, or oblivious I am, and no matter how many people are killed because of me, everyone will keep on loving and worshipping me because I'm Harry James Potter! I'm the boy who lived and kept living! And, let's face it, people are stupid."
Hermione was astonished. This had been the most intelligent thing Harry had ever said in all the seven years she'd known him.
"You know, Harry, I think you're right. And that makes my hope for the human race die. Just a little."
"Huh? Whatever. Hey, Hermione? Where's uh…"
'Idiot.' "Ron. Where is Ron?"
"Who's Ron?" Harry looked like a lost puppy.
Hermione resisted the urge to "Avada Kedavra" him into oblivion, because it'd probably backfire. You know, he was protected by his mother's blah blah blah. She settled on saying something mean because he wouldn't remember anyway.
"Oh do shut up, you utter waste of life."
"You know, suddenly, I'm not hungry."
She left. In a huff. Whatever the hell a "huff" is. Hee hee, "huff."
"Hee hee," laughed Harry. "Hee hee."
Meanwhile, somewhere not far from the Gryffindor tower:
Ron had decided to do something to change the way people saw him.
"I've decided," said Ron (to no one in particular) "to become a cutter!"
He paused, smiling at his genius.
"When people find out, they'll feel so badly about pushing me to such a sorry state that they'll … uh … love me!"
He skipped away to the tower, insulted the fat lady, snickered, pointed at her while she cried, twirled about (he's very light on his feet you know), threw his wand at the fat lady, watched her as she cried harder, said, "I hate you, fat lady", giggled as she cried even harder, picked up his wand, SCREAMED the password in the sobbing fat lady's face, hit his head diving into the portrait hole, hoped he'd get a cool bunny-shaped scar (that'd show Harry Poopypants!), cried a little, made a spooky face at a group of first years, got flipped off by said first years, ran up to his dorm, jumped into bed, pulled out his handy quill, and got out an old, leather-bound journal with the name "Ronald W." embossed on its front cover in gold, all pretty-like.
"Hello journal formerly belonging to Ronald Withershins. Today was a pretty day. The sun was shining, the birds were singing. And best of all, the giant squid almost drowned the Creevey brothers! I was so happy. But they got away. TT
So, on my mope tonight, I wailed and moaned about being a complete loser, when suddenly I thought of something AMAZING! I've come up with the perfect plan to get people to pity me! I mean, love me. I'm going to become … a CUTTER!
Yes, I know, I'm so smart.
Ronald Bilius Weasley"
"Is that you, God?" Ron was excited. God had never spoken to him before!
"No, stupid. Look out the window."
"Okay." He looked. "AUGH! ARAGOG!"
"Hee hee. I'm here to say you suck. Loser." Aragog was pleased with himself.
"I hate you, you blind eight legged thing!"
"Don't care. I'm not a virgin."
He had a point.
Then with one last giggle, Aragog scuttled away, into the darkness.
Meanwhile, in the 7th year girls' dorm:
Hermione was trying to re-read Hogwarts: A History. Again. But she couldn't concentrate. Something was distracting her! It was –
Her "STUPID IDEA DETECTOR!" (S.I.D. for short, yo.) And it was going haywire.
"Damn it, why do I have to be surrounded by morons who can't come up with any good ideas? Ideas that might actually (God forbid!) work?"
A heavy book sailed through the air and hit her in the face.
"Hermione! I am sick of you talking to yourself!" Said the angry book-thrower. "I've lived with it for seven years, but no longer! Keep your thoughts to yourself, none of us are interested." Who knew Lavender Brown was such a meany?
"Yeah! Hearing your voice while I'm trying to get myself off is sooo annoying." Ah, good ol' Parvati, always such a lady.
"Yeah, what a crazy-head."
Huh? Are there more seventh year Gryffindor girls?
"If there are, they aren't important enough to say anything."
Then who are you?
"I'm … Seamus Finnigan! I'm the school's resident Irish sex god! I'm known to all as the sexiest Irish man-slut to have graced these halls since they were first built! I'm a fucking legend! (Pun definitely intended.)"
Yes, that's all well and good, but how did you get in here? This is the girl's dormitory. Guys can't come in. The stairs turn into a slidy thing and what not.
"Yes, but you see, I'm not really a main character."
What's that got to do with anything?
"Well, since I'm a somewhat obscure, mysterious (and sexy) character, and since this is a silly fanfic, I can get away with it. The rules don't apply to me!"
You're right! Now, stop talking, and back to the shadows with you! You'll be more mysterious that way. Ahem. Parvati and Lavender (and the other 7th year Gryffindor girls that may or may not exist) had given Hermione what for! But 'twas all in vain! She'd been knocked unconscious by the book thrown by our lovely Miss Lavender.
Seamus giggled. Shh, Seamus, shh.
Meanwhile, somewhere in the dungeons:
'I think I'm lost… Again.' Harry'd gotten lost on his way to the Gryffindor Tower.
WEEEE! It's Draco Malfoy! He can send rabid fan girls into squeals and giggles like that (snaps to symbolize amount of time)! He's amazing, and sexy, and droooooool worthy. Oh yes. :blush:
"Uh…" 'Pale. He's really pale. And rodenty. He's a pale lil' rodenty boy… Draco!' "DRACO! I remember you!" Harry smiled. Yay! He remembered someone's name besides Hermione!
Draco was surprised. Surprised like crazy. "Wow. I expected I'd have to introduce myself again :whispers: you moron :ends whisper:."
"Well, Draco, it was nice to see you, but I have to get back to my common room. D'you know where it is?"
"How can the Gryffindors stand you?"
"Never mind. Anyhow, the Gryffindors dwell in the Gryffindor TOWER. You might not have noticed… but you're kind of in the DUNGEONS."
"TOWER. DUNGEONS. Tower equals 'up' and dungeons equal 'down.'"
"Are you going to help me or not?"
"Stupid boy." He sighed. "No. I can't. I don't know the way to the Gryffindor TOWER."
This was a dirty lie. He'd been there many times. In fact, he'd been there earlier that day, doing evil, evil things. Like jumping on the furniture in the common room and writing dirty limericks in the ashes in the fireplace then wiping them away while giggling. He liked limericks.
Draco looked up and scowled. He didn't like it that anyone else knew of his evil deeds.
"… Right. As I was saying, Potty, I can't help you. But you can come to the Slytherin common room and spend the night there."
"Really?" Harry was happy.
Draco was laughing inside.
"No, you moron! Now, get out of my sight, you utter waste of life." He strolled away with a spring in his step, whistling some silly song.
Fine! He was whistling NSYNC's "Bye Bye Bye." (Guilty pleasure, you know? Shh! Don't tell!)
Harry was concentrating. It looked very hard. He was trying to remember something. "Utter waste of…" He kept thinking… He was stwaining his poow widdew bwain. And then he looked up. "What am I doing here?" He decided the answer to that question was not important, and he fell asleep on the cold stone floor.
Suddenly, he was in his bed, with a teddy bear named "Stoopid." Hermione'd sent him Stoopid over the summer for his birthday. She said she'd named him after Harry. He giggled in his sleep. 'Stoopid doesn't sound anything like Harry!'
Dobby, who'd been the one who found Harry in the dungeons and brought him to his room, sighed in disgust. And then he grabbed a random object from Harry's nightstand…
And proceeded to beat Harry senseless with it. And then he ran off to find Winky so they could get drunk together and put on socks.