A/N: I do not own Harry Potter and would not particularly care to. Nor do I own any of Charles Shultz's characters… but I suspect you knew that.
Not Peanuts, Justnuts
A Harry Potter Adventure
A/N: - a little something from my 'really stupid ideas file'. Despite pulling it out and playing with it off and on for the last four years or so, it isn't going anywhere, so why not pull the plug? Still there are a couple of grins in it, so why not share on its way to the 'never going to do anything with it' file?
If it helps, picture Hedwig sleeping laid out on her perch ala Snoopy on his doghouse.
High over Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a lone Snowy Owl pin-wheeled through the sky. Harry Potter sat on one of the many stone benches and watched as his closest companion swooped and bobbed through the air, wondering if he had infected his owl with insanity, or if it had been the other way around.
"What is Hedwig doing up there?" Hermione Granger asked quietly.
"She likes to pretend she's a World War One flying ace," Harry explained.
"Harry," Hermione said gently. "Hedwig is an owl. A very bright owl, but still just an owl. I have no idea what possessed you to make her wear that leather flying helmet."
"It wasn't my idea," Harry protested. "It was hers. I don't even know where she got the helmet."
"Harry," Hermione sighed.
~ Here's the World One I flying ace high over France, searching for the infamous Red Baron! ~ Hedwig thought. ~ I must bring him down! Suddenly, anti-aircraft fire, 'archie' we used to called it, begins to burst all around me. The Red Baron has spotted me. Nyahh, Nyahh, Nyahh! You can't hit me you Teutonic twit! ~
~ Actually, ~ the world famous owl chastised herself, ~ We tough flying aces almost never say 'Nyahh, Nyahh, Nyahh'. I just, ah...Drat this fog! It's bad enough having to fight the Red Baron without having to fly in weather like this! All right, Red Baron! Where are you? You can't hide forever! You face the Apex Predator of the skies! ~
The clouds parted and the sun showed through, bright and warm. ~ Ah... I can see the woods of Montsec below...and what's that? It's a Fokker triplane! Ha! I've got you this time, Red Baron! ~
The sound of machine gun fire filled the air. ~ Aaugh! ~ Hedwig anguished. ~ He's diving down out of the sun! He's tricked me again! I've got to run! Wings don't fail me now! Let's go! Go, Owl, go! I can't shake him! He's riddling me with bullets!~
Again the machine gun barked its staccato song of death. ~ Curse you, Red Baron! Curse you and your kind! Curse the evil that causes all this unhappiness! ~
She banked sharply and headed for the Owlery. ~ Here's the World War I flying ace back at the aerodrome in France, she is exhausted and yet she does not sleep, for one thought continues to burn in her mind...Someday, someday I'll get you, Red Baron! ~
"There you are, Harry Potter."
Harry turned to face the voice, "What do you want Draco?"
The Slytherin prince emerged from the shadows, his security blanket pressed against his cheek. "I know you were behind it, Harry Potter."
"Behind what?" Harry asked.
"You were the one behind the kidnapping of my blanket!"
Harry blinked. "I have no idea what you're talking about Draco, besides, if whatever is taken isn't a person, how could it be kidnapping?"
"You'll pay, Harry Potter, oh how you'll pay!" the blond said as he sucked his thumb into his mouth.
The crowd went quiet as Pansy Parkinson knelt down to steady the ball.
"Come on Harry Potter," she said. "This is your chance to be the hero. Kick the ball."
"Not a chance," Harry scoffed. "I'm not falling for that again. I'll run up and try to kick the ball with all my might, while you'll yank it away, making me wipe out in front of everyone."
Pansy called for a time out and approached the Boy Who Lived. "Look, Harry Potter, I will admit that I've done some horrible things in the past."
"I'll say," a voice called from the crowd.
"Shut-up, Draco," Pansy sniffed dismissively. "I stand by my comments that you're far too old for a security blanket, even Harry Potter's stupid owl agrees!"
As if to show her agreement, Hedwig the World War One flying ace, wearing a leather flight helmet and goggles swooped from the sky, and grabbed onto the thumbsucking Slytherin Prince's blanky in both talons and hauled both of them into the sky at break neck speeds, before slamming the boy into a tree.
Hedwig then retired to the aerodrome for root-beers with the boys.
"Anyway," Pansy continued, "as I was saying, I've done some horrible things in the past, but this is the big game, Harry Potter, and I really want to win. I will offer you my written guarantee that I will not pull the ball away."
Harry looked at the offered sheet of parchment with the raised seal and marveled at the fine calligraphy. "Well, with a written guarantee, I don't see how it could go wrong..."
"That's the spirit, Harry Potter," Pansy said as she returned to her place holding the ball. "No kick this thing so we can win."
Harry backed up and began his run toward the ball. This was it. One kick and he would be the hero, not the goat. One kick and it would make up for everyone who ever called him a loser. He planted his foot and swung the other forward with all his might, and consequently was unable to stop himself when Pansy yanked the ball away.
He sailed through the air, reflecting that he hadn't felt this bad since his last encounter with the Broom Eating Tree...
His impact on the frozen ground was earth shaking, and he lay in pain as Pansy approached with a large grin. The girl reached down for her written guarantee, pulling it from his pocket.
"Funny thing about this Guarantee, Harry Potter," the girl said. "Did you see the fine print where it shows that the guarantee is void in Scotland? Always read the fine print, you blockhead."
Laughter rippled through the crowd, as Harry lay on the ground in pain. He struck back the only way he could.
"Wah, Wah wha wha wha."
"Foul Language," Harry repeated, his head hung low. "I did say that Professor McGonagall, but..."
"Wah wah wah wah wah." The Scottish witch pointed out.
"What was I thinking?" Harry asked incredulously, "I was thinking that the conniving bitch..."
"WAH!" his head of house responded, cutting his explanation off at the knees. "Wah wah wah wah. Wah wah wah?"
"How should I be punished?"
"I guess helping Hagrid with a few chores would be a fitting punishment."
"Wah wha?" She scoffed. "Wah wah wah wah wah wah wah wah wah wah wah wah wah wah wah wah wah wah wah wah wah!"
"Yes, Ma'am," Harry said wondering just why his life always sucked so much. "A month with Mr. Filch. Yes, Ma'am."