Summary: Unhealthy fixations, romantic entanglements, and a big walrus are just some of the things Harry has to deal with in his sixth year at Hogwarts. Oh yeah, and the whole Voldemort thing. A parody. A BAD parody. Rated R.
Warnings: Extremely juvenile humour, extremely perverted humour, extremely non-humorous humour. Caveat emptor.
Disclaimer: All characters mentioned herein, except for the various Guilds, Coalitions, and so forth, belong to J.K. Rowling. J.K. Rowling, while not a character, presumably also belongs to herself. Please don't sue me, for I am cute and cuddly and occasionally kind, although not good with ketchup.
Author's Note: I'm definitely treading the line as to what's acceptable on this site, so prepare for this to be taken down at any time. This is a slightly vitriolic parody of the (to me) supremely unsatisfying Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, which will most likely anger a whole shitload of people. Feel free to leave me horrified/infuriated flames deploring my heathen sensibilities, or else simply telling me how utterly bollocks I am at this parody business. Chapters will be posted in groups of five; eventually I'll post a cast of characters, when I get less lazy. Now go have fun, or not, as the case may be.
HARRY POTTER and the HALF-ASSED JOB
A Parody of J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince
I. In Which There Be Gov't Shit
PRIME MINISTER: I'm the prime minister, and people are making fun of me! Also I don't understand anything!
HIDEOUS PORTRAIT: 'Sup, bitches, Cornelius Fudge iz in da house!
PRIME MINISTER: Oh shit, not again.
FUDGE: All your problems are the wizards' fault.
PRIME MINISTER: You know, concentration camps are starting to sound pretty good right about now.
FUDGE: Also, we're all gonna die. Also, I've been sacked. Craaawling iiin my bowlerrr...
FUDGE: Psst! Line!
HIDEOUS PORTRAIT: (takes finger out of nose) Do what now? Oh, yeah--Scrimgeour in da house as well also, hands up, y'all. (resumes nostril excavation)
PRIME MINISTER: Holy crap, it's a lion! Named Rufus!
LATINITES: But... that means 'red'... con... fused...?
SCRIMGEOUR: I am cooler than you. I am smarter than you. I kick your sorry Muggle ass, mister.
PRIME MINISTER: (sniffles) You're a mean lion!
FUDGE: Ass mister? Have I missed something?
II. In Which There Be the Random, the Crazy, and the Do Whuhhh?
NARCISSA: (dithers loudly)
BELLATRIX: Yeah, I'm not with her.
BELLATRIX: Ha! I beast you, fox!
MILL CHIMNEY: (hovers "like an admonitory finger" (p. 21, American hardcover edition))
BELLATRIX: Hovering finger chimney? Is that a lesbian thing?
NARCISSA: Snaaape! I lurrrve yoouu!
SNAPE: Um... hello to you too...?
BELLATRIX: Camel with a pipe up his--
NARCISSA: Um, hello, can we get back to me, please?
WORMTAIL: Yo, I'm Peter, I mack on Rita Skeeter, I've got a pint of pina colada in my freezer! This is my random cameo, yo, y-yo y-yo! (makes white-boy percussive sounds)
BELLATRIX: ...Oh. My god.
SNAPE: Don't make me tie you up again.
WORMTAIL: Oh please, tie me up again!
BELLATRIX: Nice going, Cissy. They've gone skippy.
NARCISSA: We are here to talk about ME!
SNAPE: Begone, wormy one, or there shall be no nooky for a fortnight!
WORMTAIL: (gasps) Oh noes! (runs away)
BELLATRIX: Oy vey.
SNAPE: So, what up?
NARCISSA: Imma tell you thing. That I'm not supposed to tell you. Because I'm a dipshit.
BELLATRIX: Yeah, you know he's not properly evil like my bad self.
SNAPE: I'm far more evil than you, you mad sexless wanker.
BELLATRIX: You are not!
SNAPE: I am too.
BELLATRIX: Are not!
SNAPE: Am too.
BELLATRIX: Are not!
SNAPE: Am too.
BELLATRIX: Are not!
SNAPE: Am too.
NARCISSA: WE ARE TALKING ABOUT ME!
SNAPE: Do what now?
NARCISSA: Blah blah Draco blah blah punishment blah blah my only son blah blah blah (cries, prostrates self).
BELLATRIX: I think she has an unhealthy fixation on blond boys, personally.
SNAPE: No kidding.
NARCISSA: Hey, I've got an idea! Let's do the Unbreakable Vow!
SNAPE: What, you mean that vow that you can't break or you die?
BELLATRIX: Y'all trippin'.
J.K. ROWLING: Are you paying attention, children? Are you really paying attention? There will be a test!
III. In Which there is Fun with Mead Glasses
DAILY PROPHET: Yeah, Harry was right, so let's all lick his boots some more, how about that?
MINISTRY OF MAGIC PAMPHLET: We all gonna DIE!
STREETLAMPS: (go out)
HARRY: Hey! It's Dumbledore, that old man whom I trust enough to go off alone with to dark scary places but not enough to actually pack for!
UNCLE VERNON: Who visiting Hulk? HULK ANGRY!
DUMBLEDORE: Underage drinking, y'all! (doles out mead)
MEAD GLASSES: Ha ha ha! (abuse Dursleys' heads)
HARRY: Holy shit, man, your hand!
DUMBLEDORE: Blah blah blah Sirius blah blah blah Grimmauld Place blah blah blah Kreacher blah.
HARRY: Sirius isn't dead, I don't want Grimmauld Place, and Kreacher can go fuck himself.
UNCLE VERNON: Godfather dead? House? Hulk get house?
COALITION TO BRING BACK BLACK: That's right, Harry! You tell 'em! Testify!
HARRY: Who the hell are you losers?
DUMBLEDORE: All right, Harry, it's time to fly away on our magic carpet. But first, let's mock the Dursleys. On the count of three: one, two, three--
EVERYONE: YOU SUCK!
UNCLE VERNON: (sadly) Hulk sad.
IV. In Which Harry Persuades a Teacher via Feminine Wiles
HARRY: Seen any good movies lately?
DUMBLEDORE: No, but I like raspberry jam.
HARRY: Oh shit, the person we came to see has been dragged away by the Bad Guys!
DUMBLEDORE: Right, Sherlock. That's why I'm the Headmaster 'round these parts. He has obviously just turned into an armchair.
HARRY: Right, because that just makes so much more sense than my explanation.
SLUGHORN: What up, homeys?
HARRY: Hey, it's the Walrus!
DUMBLEDORE: Oh, look at the time, I have a, um, a dentist's appointment! On Mars! I'll, uh, leave you two alone for a while.
SLUGHORN: You look just like your father.
HARRY: Oh my god, really?! Nobody's EVER told me that before! Like thanks man!
SLUGHORN: You know, speaking of me, your mother was one of my favourite students. She was great. Lily Evans--talented student, bright girl, great in the sack--
HARRY: Who what now?
SLUGHORN: Uhh... nothing. Hey, look, famous people give me stuff!
HARRY: Well, I am famous people. I sneer at your so-called "Gwenog Jones".
SLUGHORN: Harry... I am your father.
DUMBLEDORE: All right, let's go, lots to do at midnight after all, chop chop! (bustles out) (pauses) Aren't you going to ask for the job now?
SLUGHORN: Why would I do that?
DUMBLEDORE: (to Harry) Nice going, doofus.
HARRY: I'll let you fawn over me if you come...
SLUGHORN: (suspiciously) What about lap dances?
HARRY: That might be arranged.
SLUGHORN: Boys, you've got yourselves a teacher!
DUMBLEDORE: This is definitely the start of a beautiful friendship.
(At the Burrow)
DUMBLEDORE: Hey, let's go into this broom shed!
DUMBLEDORE: Yeah, so. Lessons? With me? This year? Um.
DUMBLEDORE: Um... to... um
HARRY: Is it about the prophecy?
DUMBLEDORE: Huh? Yes! Oh yes, it is, that's right!
HARRY: You old guys scare me.
V. In Which Hermione Attempts to Snark and Phlegm is Established
MRS. WEASLEY: Who the hell are you?
DUMBLEDORE: Your worst nightmare.
MRS. WEASLEY: The one with the scissors?!
DUMBLEDORE: Just let us in.
MRS. WEASLEY: Harry! Harry! Hello, Harry! (looks for pom-poms)
TONKS: Hi, Harry. Have a razor?
HARRY: Um... no?
TONKS: Huh. Bye, then.
HARRY: What happened to "Both buttocks still on" lady?
GUILD OF CHARACTER STABILITY: omgwtf?
HARRY: That's what I said.
DUMBLEDORE: Come, Tonks, let us leave mysteriously.
MRS. WEASLEY: It's after midnight! Time for pre-breakfast soup! Eat up!
CLOCK: Moohahaha you're all gonna DIE!
MR. WEASLEY: (knocks)
MRS. WEASLEY: Oh, hey sexpot!
MR. WEASLEY: Not so fast! What is our safeword?
MRS. WEASLEY: I just said it. Sexpot.
MR. WEASLEY: I know. I just like hearing you say it again.
HARRY: Okay, this is not an appropriate conversation for minors to be exposed to. I'm going to bed.
MRS. WEASLEY: Excellent. Whip time!
RON: COWABUNGA! (lands on top of Harry)
HARRY: Oh my god, what the fuck is wrong with you? (hexes Ron across the room)
RON: So... been doing any evil wizard fighting without us?
HERMIONE: You wonder why I think you're a git, you git.
HARRY: No, but I met the Walrus.
HERMIONE: Don't tell me, I really don't want to know.
GINNY: Harry! I'm definitely not looking at your bare naked chest right now!
FLEUR: 'Allo! I'm French!
HERMIONE: Oh, for Pete's sake.
HARRY: Score! Food!
MRS. WEASLEY: Stupid veela. Stupid Bill and his stupid veela.
HARRY: You have to admit, she's pretty hot.
FLEUR: And Freeeeench!
GINNY: What did you say?
HARRY: Um... (eats toast)
GINNY: (tearfully) Not that it matters! Because I'm totally over you! (runs out)
HARRY: So I'm getting lessons from Dumbledore this year. He told me in the broom shed.
RON: The broom shed?
HERMIONE: That's pretty sketchy.
HARRY: It's because, y'know, I'm gonna have to kill Voldemort 'n' stuff.
HERMIONE: Does anyone besides me ever wonder what that man is smoking?
OWLS: (fly in, having lost at Rock, Paper, Talons)
RON: Hey, I didn't fail! I've got 733t 5ki775!
HARRY: And I got a slightly better grade than you! How surprising!
HERMIONE: WAHHH A LESS-THAN-PERFECT SCORE!
RON: I'm going to murder both of you in your beds.
HARRY: Time for an emo break! (broods on prophecy)
RON: (eats his sausages)