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.

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HARRY POTTER and the HALF-ASSED JOB

A Parody of J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

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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...

(pause)

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.

FOX: (dies)

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: Snape.

SNAPE: Bellatrix.

BELLATRIX: Greaseball.

SNAPE: Loser.

BELLATRIX: Wanker.

SNAPE: Whore.

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?

NARCISSA: Yeah!

SNAPE: Genius!

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

HARRY: (snores)

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: ...So.

DUMBLEDORE: So.

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.

HARRY: What?

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!

HARRY: Wtf?

DUMBLEDORE: Yeah, so. Lessons? With me? This year? Um.

HARRY: Why?

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.

TONKS: Whatever.

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!

HARRY: (sleeps)

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!

RON: Gahhhhhhh.

HERMIONE: Oh, for Pete's sake.

HARRY: Score! Food!

FLEUR: Freeeeench!

RON: Gahhhhhhh.

MRS. WEASLEY: Stupid veela. Stupid Bill and his stupid veela.

HARRY: You have to admit, she's pretty hot.

FLEUR: And Freeeeench!

RON: Gahhhhhhh.

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)

HERMIONE: Hohshithohshithohshit-

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)