Title: A Typical Harry Potter Fanfic

Author: Anathema2

Summary: A parody of fanfic clichés everywhere. Don't worry, I write this out of love. Mostly.

Warnings: Irreverence, silliness, comic violence, and controversial opinions about major characters.

Disclaimer: Of course I'm JK Rowling (to whom these characters, etc. belong)! Who did you think I was? A teenage fangirl just pretending? (scoffs)

Chapter 6: In Which the Author Is in Sirius Denial


In Which There Is One Final Pun

As was fairly commonplace, Sirius was doing something he shouldn't have been. On this particular occasion, he was attempting to set fire to Mrs. Norris. This was unwise, especially in light of the fact that Filch was standing right behind him.

"I've got you now, Black!" he shouted in triumph. "The Headmaster doesn't approve of me stabbing students in the chest as punishment, but I'm sure it'd be fine just this once." So saying, Filch whipped out a machete and stabbed Sirius.

Sirius fell, clutching his chest. Moments later, though, he stood back up, not a trace of blood remaining visible.

"What?" roared Filch, outraged. "How could you—but I just—AAAAARGH!" And he broke Sirius's neck.

For a moment, Sirius was utterly still. Filch let out a cry of triumph, which quickly turned into a furious roar when Sirius stood up and nonchalantly snapped his neck back into place.

"You'll have to do better than that," said Sirius, who strolled around the corner.

Filch stalked after him. "Be vewwy, vewwy quiet," he whispered to no one in particular. "I'm hunting twoublemakews."

He snuck up behind Sirius, who turned around, inexplicably munching on a carrot. "What's up, doc?"

"Argh!" shouted Filch. "First you set fire to my cat, and then you steal vegetables from the kitchens! I'll get you!" As Filch shouted this, he signaled to Peeves, who dropped an anvil with ACME written on the side onto Sirius's head.

"Really, now," said Sirius irritably, lifting the anvil. "Peeves, I thought you were on my side."

"Eh," said Peeves, shrugging. "You kept upstaging me."

"THIS ENDS NOW, BLACK!" cried Filch. He whipped out a wand and bellowed, "AVADA KEDAVRA!" This was because he had forgotten that he was a Squib, and thus was unable to do magic. Hopefully the readers have forgotten as well, because the author is too lazy to go back and fix this glaring disregard for continuity.

Sirius fell to the floor, where he lay horribly still. With a victorious cackle, Filch ran off to tell Dumbledore that there was a dead body in the corridor and that he, for once, was not going to clean it up.

As soon as Filch had gone, Sirius straightened up, brushed himself off, and strolled back to the Gryffindor common room to relate his adventure to James.

"That's amazing, Sirius," said James, awestruck. "But how come you didn't die?"

"Well," said Sirius thoughtfully, "it's because, decades from now, I'm going to die from a killing curse fired by my cousin Bellatrix, and my body will disappear behind a veil in the Ministry of Magic. After this tragic event, my godson Harry will search desperately for some way by which I might not be dead, and he might be able to talk to me again, before he eventually comes to accept that I am morally, ethically, spiritually, physically, positively, absolutely, undeniably and reliably dead. This very clear explanation, however, will not satisfy my legions of screaming fangirls, many of whom will misinterpret my symbolic fall through the veil as a clue that I might not be dead after all, rather than seeing the veil as the gateway to the Beyond, or Heaven, or what have you. They will similarly distort beyond recognition my godson's conversation with one Luna Lovegood, failing to recognize it as an echo of Dumbledore's statement that he will only truly be gone when none are loyal to him. They will instead misinterpret this conversation as proof of my having remained alive, completely destroying the beautiful, subtle metaphor contained within the aforementioned conversation."

James was quiet for a moment, absorbing all of this. "So," he said at length, "when you evaded Filch's attempts to kill you just now, it was because of fangirls writing fics wherein you are immortal? And that shields them from the fact that sometimes, even in a fictional universe, we must remain to some extent within the confines of reality? And it allows them to hide in the shelter of their delusions, rather than grieving, accepting your death, and moving on?"

Sirius nodded. "Pretty much."

"That sounds unhealthy," James mused.

Just then, a horde of screaming fangirls ran into the common room, shrieking, "SIRIUS LIVES!" and accidentally-on-purpose trampling James to death. (They trampled Sirius, too, but he survived, because, y'know, the whole denial thing.)


(I mean it.)

Author's note: I am really, truly sorry about this.

This chapter was kind of a downer, and not really all that funny. Bur I get so tired of people who, unable to deal with their own emotions, feel compelled to cheapen what would otherwise be one of the most powerful moments in the fifth book.

I am aware that some of you will not like this chapter, because you believe that Sirius is still alive. Please do not send me angry e-mails insisting that Sirius did not die. They will not change my mind. However, if the seventh book reveals that Sirius is actually alive, then feel free to point, laugh, and gloat to your hearts' content. Until then, fangirls, please think hard about whether you truly don't believe that Sirius is dead, or whether you simply don't want to believe.