Summary: Harry appears in the desert, naked. And he's being chased... but by who? A light parody of a famous movie but not really.

That Guy Took My Pants!

Suddenly, Harry was falling through the air. After about a twenty foot drop to the ground, he painfully stood up and was glad to see that nothing seemed broken. He grimaced and dusted himself off – just because he'd landed all in one piece didn't mean that he wasn't sore at all. Blinking a few times, Harry suddenly came to another realization: he was stark naked. Immediately feeling self-conscious, he covered his dignity and furtively glanced around. He was in a desert and there was nobody around to laugh at him.

Even so...

"Why, oh why, am I naked?!" he cried out in a panic. Somewhere along the way he'd lost his wand, so he couldn't even conjure up a temporary robe for himself. "Crap. Crap, crap, crap!"

He didn't even bother to wonder why he still had his glasses on – he had to find a way to get some clothes!

Over about twenty meters to his right, there was a road. Still keeping his hands strategically positioned so he wouldn't scare off any passersby, he scampered over to the shoulder of the road, hoping that he could hitch a ride with someone who wouldn't ask too many awkward questions.

Unfortunately for Harry, that isn't what happened.

A minivan appeared on the horizon perhaps a mile away and he looked up with anticipation. Carefully, he raised one arm in the air and waved at the approaching vehicle. The van slowed down about a hundred feet away and then came to a dead stop right next to him. Harry could instantly feel himself blushing all over.

Four attractive women in their early twenties peered curiously out through tinted windows at the Boy-Who-Was-Really-Quite-Nude. A window was rolled down and one of the women casually poked her head out. She looked Harry up and down and then a big, fat smirk spread out on her face.

"Hi there," she called out. There was an unmistakable American accent in her voice. "What are you, um, like, doing here? This is the desert."

"Er, I know that," Harry replied and they all giggled.

A second window was opened and another of the women asked him, "Do you... need a ride?"

"I wouldn't mind it," he responded defensively, feeling uncomfortable with the looks they were all giving him. He desperately looked down either end of the road, thinking that if another car suddenly appeared, it would be quite welcome indeed. There were no vehicles in sight and he made a sad little noise in the back of his throat.

"Why don't you like, get in?" the first woman offered. Before Harry's vaunted Seeker reflexes could kick into action, a door was opened and he was dragged inside. Five seconds later, he was seated snugly in the middle seat in the back. A moment after that they were speeding down the road.

They sat in silence for a minute and Harry could feel their eyes all over him. Every so often he'd catch a pair of stunning eyes watching him through the rear view mirror. His cheeks burned.

"So you're not from around here," piped up the girl sitting on his left. "I noticed your accent... My name's Mary. Her name," she said, pointing to the girl on his right, "Is Sue, and those two are Mary and Sue, too!" she added with a giggle, pointing to the driver and the passenger.

"I'm Harry," he said helpfully.

"Hello, Harry," purred the Sue on his left. She put a daring hand on his leg and he jumped up at the unexpected contact.

"Umm... where are we going?" he asked in a strained voice.

"Oh, we're almost there, don't worry about it... why don't you just relax?" said the first Mary.

"I don't think I can do that right now-" he managed to choke out as Mary leaned her head on his shoulder.

It was all becoming too much too fast for poor Harry. The only girl he'd ever really dated had been Ginny, yet he'd never had a chance to do anything with her...

The van came to a sudden stop and Sue the driver announced, "We're here! Everyone out!"

Pouting, Mary and Sue reluctantly released their holds on Harry and got out of the van. They all started walking into a bar when he awkwardly leaned his head out the window. "Oi! Come back here!"

Sue giggled at him. "There's clothes in the back for you, they're my sister's, so I think they should fit... I'll see you inside!"

"Clothes in the back," he muttered darkly. "And she tells me now..."

XXXXX

Fifteen minutes later, Harry fearfully stepped out of the van, wearing a miniskirt that came down to about mid-thigh and a halter top that he was sure he'd stretched as he tried to squeeze into it. In an effort to preserve what was left of his masculinity, he'd decided to forgo wearing the high heels and just walk barefoot.

Right before he entered the bar, he caught a glimpse of his sorry reflection in a window.

"This isn't happening," he said to himself.

When he stepped inside of the building, Harry immediately sensed that something was totally, undeniably, and horribly wrong. Everywhere he looked, there were women, women, women! There were women serving drinks at the bar, there were women drinking at the bar; there were women sitting at tables, there were women on the dance floor dancing with more women. By far, however, were the looks he was receiving from them – they were giving him all sorts of hungry, vicious, bloodthirsty stares, and he quickened his pace, searching desperately for a pay phone.

He peered around the smoke-filled room and spotted some phones in the back, by the dance floor and the bathrooms.

"Excuse me, don't mind me, coming through!"

"Hold it right there, buster!" Harry's heart was pounding and someone was playing a double bass beat on a kick drum in his ears. There was also someone firmly holding his arm, preventing him from reaching the phones or the sanctuary of the men's room. That someone was a tall, muscly-looking man, yet instead of appearing happy at seeing another fellow male in this violent, turbulent sea of estrogen, he looked livid. "What the hell do you think you're doing here?!"

"What-"

The man roughly grabbed Harry's halter top in an effort to pull him closer, but he ended up ripping the skimpy piece of clothing off. Somewhere in the crowd, a woman whistled. Throwing the remains of the top to the ground, the angry man gripped him by the neck instead.

"This is my gig! I'm the only dancer that was supposed to be here tonight!"

"I... don't... care!" Harry struggled to say as the other man's grip tightened. He growled and broke free, taking a few steps away from him. That was when he noticed what the other man was wearing: regular, manly clothes. Well, the tight, latex police officer's uniform was more manly than the miniskirt Harry had on right now. It didn't matter anymore – Harry's patience was gone. He was sick of being dressed like a woman. Looking the other man straight in the eye, he said, "Give me your clothes."

The fake officer giggled and Harry rolled his eyes – did everyone in America giggle all the time? "That's for later, silly!" he laughed.

"I'm done playing games!" Harry tensed up, ready to attack the other man, but there was a scream from the front of the bar and he stopped.

Instantly the clatter of conversation and the music came to a halt, because standing in the doorway was a very furious and very naked Lord Voldemort, holding a scrubby grocery bag in front of himself. His pale, pasty white skin took on a neon pink hue from the fashionable contemporary lights in the bar, yet his eyes still glowed red as he glared at all of the people in the bar. He walked over to the bar and calmly said to the bartender, "I need a robe."

Harry slouched his shoulders and tried to duck down and out of sight, but since everyone else was as still as a statue, Voldemort instantly noticed him. "You!" he shouted. "AVADA KEDAVRA!"

However, Voldemort didn't have his wand either, so he found himself pointing his grocery bag at Harry, and thus, unwittingly exposing himself to the entire bar. A woman screamed – someone else near Harry fainted, and he heard the police officer say, "Oh my god!" right before the bar exploded into pandemonium.

Harry instantly sprang into motion, trying to make a beeline straight for the door so he could escape and lose Voldemort in the desert or something. Maybe he could outrun the dark lord – he was, after all, a great deal younger and Voldemort probably didn't get out and exercise much... However, getting to the exit proved a most difficult task as the frenzied crowd of women ran around blinded, their sight permanently gone for having seen Voldemort's privates.

Finally, Harry made it to the entrance and he turned around to see Voldemort beating up the police officer and taking his clothes. He heard the male stripper shout over the din, "That son of a bitch took my pants!"

Just as Harry was about to step foot outside of the bar, he felt a hand on his arm. Whirling around, expecting it to be Voldemort, he jumped when he saw it was Mary. Or Sue. Or maybe Mary. He'd already forgotten who was who.

"Will I ever see you again?" she asked, staring at him, awestruck.

Harry looked over her head at the chaos of the bar. Voldemort was kicking the police officer in the side while pointing and laughing at him, until the bartender came up behind him and smashed an empty beer bottle over his head, knocking him out. Turning his attention back to Sue... or Mary, he said, "This has been a weird day for me. But don't worry – I'll be back."

Note 1/31/07: For some reason I was thinking about Terminator when I was writing the second chapter for my other story. And then (I was completely sober) I was like, "Haha, I wonder what would happen if..."