Cassirin's EEFFD -It's All Fun and Games 'Til... - Sa9+
 

It's all fun and games 'til...

It all started innocently enough. Draco called Hermione a mudblood AGAIN during the course of a Care of Magical Creatures class, and Ron cursed him. AGAIN. He missed, of course, because what would a day at Hogwarts be without someone mis-cursing someone else at close range. Neville Longbottom got the brunt of the curse, sporting a Fudge-esque lime green bowler hat and singing snippets of showtunes until well after dinner time. Of course, this left Ron feeling very vengeful, Neville quite exhausted from a song that involved high kicks, and Harry stuck somewhere between commiserating with Ron and laughing at Neville.
"We must get him back," Ron said, as if his words were the great answer to world peace. "It's just... we have to get him back."
"He calls me a... that name all the time," Hermione was the opposite of helpful in situations such as these. Ron's face turned red.
"That color of red really clashes with your hair," a random Gryff murmured from the sidelines. Ron turned and glared. Everyone stayed silent and tried to look busy. Dean and Ginny began to discuss the merits of bat bogie hexes, and Seamus studied Lavender's How to Charm with Charms with great interest.
"Ahem..." Harry did a fantastic Umbridge impression. "What were you saying...?"
"Right. Let's get Malfoy back."
"The sun'll come out tomorrow..."
"For... what exactly?"
"Calling Hermione names, you git."
"Bet yer bottom dollar that tomorrow..."
"Right-o. Which is different from usual, because...?"
"It's Malfoy..."
"I'm in."
"Me too."
"Let's do it."
"Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love ya, tomorrow..."
"Can we please send Neville to bed first?"

I don't know why my formatting is evil! But I am glad the beginning of my duck challenge finally made it up!

this is pretty good

lol post more soon

can't wait to read the rest!

Luckily for the pranking Gryffs, Neville's curse wore off some time in the middle of the night. Actually, it was luckier for Neville, as Seamus was considering smothering him with a pillow during a particularly heart-felt rendition of Memory from Cats. None of the boys got much sleep.

"Where did you learn that curse?" Harry asked Ron, his eyes tiny slits behind his glasses.

"Ginny," he answered simply, shrugging. It is important to note that Ginny spent many days after this conversation believing she smelled bad and needed to shower more often, based on the wide berth the other Gryffindors began to give her. But anyway, your author digresses...

Ron, Harry, and their extended posse trouped down to the Great Hall, continuing their discussion and perfection of what was dubbed by some 'The Great Prank.' Actually, only Ron called it that. Harry called it Operation Ferret because he watched one too many movies over the summer while stuck with his evil Muggle family.

"Why look who's here! Everybody's favorite deatheater!" Dean chortled, and they all watched Draco and his cronies enter the room.

"Honestly," Hermione hissed under her breath. "Could you lot be any more obvious?"

"Probably," Ginny added, also under breath. "We're Gryffindors. We're all about the being brave and reckless, and not so much about the being sneaky."

The others stared at her. She began to think maybe she had some sort of fungus growing on her in addition to her smelling bad.

Anyway (and I'm sure all my readers have now noticed how completely divergent your author really is by this point), just a reminder, Malfoy had just arrived and all the Gryffindors were sitting in anticipation.

Across the room, at the Slytherin table, students of the proud green and silver looked up in surprise as Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle all climbed onto the table and began a high spirited Irish step dance. Malfoy whipped off his shirt and tied his green tie around his head, all the while doing picturesque leaps and pirouettes.

"Funny, I never would have imagined Malfoy could get that kind of height," Hermione mumbled. The rest of the table just laughed. Neville fell off the bench and landed on Trevor, but he just continued to laugh as he tried to reinflate his frog.

keep going this is heaps good!!!!! :mrgreenbounce: :mrgreenbounce: :mrgreenbounce: :mrgreenbounce: :mrgreenbounce: :mrgreenbounce: :lunchmeat:

LOL! Totally awesome! keep writing more! :-D

:lol: I can see it all now. That is something that would bring tears to my eyes. Lol! That was great keep it going! :lol:

:lol: Lol! I'm going to be laughing about that for days.

Ha HA HA!!! Ho! Ho! Ha! Hee! Hee! Hoo! Ha!.......
:lol: :lol: :lol: :lol:

OMG thats sooo funny!!!!!! im just sitting here laughing :lol: :lol: :lol:

That was the beginning. Over the next few weeks, the pranking escalated. Students from many houses and years suddenly found themselves sporting green or silver hair from a hex that hit a light fixture wrong. Suddenly, the entire school was involved in the prank war. No matter Filch's threats, curses and hexes were thrown about like so much... stuff that is thrown about. The students stopped short of pranking in class, but only just. One ingenious third year snipered fellow students with balloons filled with bobotubor pus in the yard below while a once-again-oblivious Professor Binns droned on about the Waffle Wars of Warsaw.

One night, during dinner in the Great Hall, Snape swept into the room quite late considering they had lima beans for dinner. Usually Snape was very timely for lima bean night. As he passed, the students fell silent. On Snape's back was a giant Hogwarts crest with the four house mascots singing, "It's a Small World After All," in high, tinny voices. His hair was dyed to match... red, yellow, green, and blue stripes. Fortunately, his expression was black enough to remind all the students that he was still Snape, and quite menacing thank-you-very-much.

At the front of the hall, Snape turned and barked, "Potter, Weasely, Malfoy... come with me." He then turned again and swooped like a giant, techni-color bat out of the hall.

"Good luck," Hermione whispered.

"Are you kidding?" Ron said. "For Snape, that was positively pleasant. Save me some cake."

til... wat tell me!!! :arg:

lol.....I think this dare was a good one.....Love it Cassirin keep writing more :flowersmile: :mrgreenbounce:

Hey Cassy! Nice job you're doing! Can't wait for Snapes line... *giggles* I love daring people with these... ya never know what happens.... I honestly didn't expect Snapes cloak... "It's a small world..." Yay! *wipes away tears of laughter*

Snape dragged Harry, Ron, and Draco Malfoy into a spare classroom and glared at them for about five minutes. Following this, he paced. Then he glared while he paced.

"He must be really mad," Ron whispered, which earned him another glare, as well as a well-placed Harry elbow in his gut.

They were all interrupted by one of the paintings in the classroom. Creeping through the frames was a small bald hunter with an enormous rifle.

"Shhhh! Be vewy, vewy quiet. I'm hunting wabbits."

Harry, the only one of them with any sort of Muggle referencing ability immediately began to laugh, while the rest of them stared.

"What's a wabbit?" Malfoy asked Snape.

Snape's face turned bright red, which, unlike Ron's, looked really quite attractive with his multihued hair. He restrained himself admirably and murmured in a deceptively polite voice, "Oh dear- not the fluffy bunny slippers joke AGAIN!"

Elmer Fudd, for that was indeed who the bald hunter was, stomped his foot in disgust and announced his intention to hunt 'wabbits' in a more quiet and secluded part of the castle. He disappeared from the edge of a frame, and Snape resumed his glare-age. The author wants to point out that glare-age is not really a word but that it will suffice in this circumstance.

"Thanks, Doc," another voice distracted Snape from his mounting yell fest. All eyes took in a slender gray rabbit chomping on a carrot and leaning against the frame of a picture. "That Elmer finds me wherever I go... must have taken a wrong turn at Albuquerque." He sprayed carrot crumbs generously from his mouth as he spoke.

"I am trying to intimidate these students. If I hear another peep from one of these paintings, I will see what my potions supplies can create in the way of paint thinner!" Every painting in that wing of the school was suddenly empty.

Snape turned back to the three boys, expecting them to be cowering as well. They were simply staring at him and wishing desperately that his robe would stop singing.

"Who is responsible for this?" he gestured towards his entire appearance in general.

Harry was very tempted to say, "Your mom," and get away with it, but he refrained.

Ron said, "You've been calling me irresponsible for the past 6 years. How could I be responsible for anything at this point?"

All three of them looked at Malfoy.

"Oh come on! Just because I'm a mean ugly smarmy git, doesn't mean that I'm evil!" Malfoy protested weakly. Even Snape cracked a smile at that. "No, really..."

All randomness is Zymurgy's fault, although my twisted brain helped. There is one more installment of our little torture, followed closely by the actual dare. I'll post later tonight or tomorrow, because I like to make you suffer. I wish there were an evil grin smilie, but this is good too: :upsidedown:

Not Fair Cassirin......I wanna know what happens!!!!!!!!

The three boys turned to back to look at Snape. He opened his mouth to reply when the door to the broom closet across the room began to shudder.

"For Pete's sake..." he shouted, sounding quite American actually... and making the author giggle. So go away if you don't like it!

He yanked the door open and out fell Professor Dumbledore. Dumbledore smiled and said, "Pete who?"

"P-Professor? What are you doing in the broom closet?" Snape was
aghast. That's like really shocked and horrified... crack a book, kids.

"I needed a broom," his eyes sparkled. "Now, Severus, I suggest you let these boys get back to dinner. I don't think any of them are guilty of the, er, horrendous prank that was played on you."

Snape gave the three boys another glare for good measure and swooped out of the room. Dumbledore waved his hands at the boys to get them moving in the right direction.

Back in the Great Hall, things were much calmer than they had been for the previous weeks.

"What happened, Professor?" Harry asked.

"I imagine that the student body has had its fill of pranks for the time being. And that they all live in mortal fear of what will happen if Professor Snape catches them pranking any time soon. Return to your tables. I hear the chocolate cake is delicious this evening. If only I weren't watching my figure..." he sighed.

The boys started back to their tables, and Dumbledore wandered off, humming to himself.

"I wonder who did prank Snape," Ron said. "It was brilliant."

"I wonder..." Harry answered. "Wasn't Dumbledore humming 'It's a Small World'? You don't think..."

Finally... The End

lol Cassirin.....It was great :up: :rose:

Yeah! Cass finished my dare! YEAH!

...watch your back. You happen to be good at it... I might just try and make you do another one....

Congrats! LOL! Flowers! AND COOKIES! YOU CAN HAVE COOKIES! I GIVE YOU ALL MY COOKIES! PEANUT BUTTER CHOCOLATE! :flowersmile:

well done cassirin. that was a VERY HARD dare. you rock.

THAT WAS ALL A DARE!!!!

Yeah it was all a dare

That was a crazy dare

do they really have to do it

Yes, they really have ta do it. It's an honor thing. If they didn't do their dares, no one would feal obligated to do dares they gave, y'know? I thought it was cool! I never thought it would get that good! My ff are all dares/chalenges. They're under, (Warning, shameless self promotion) Sagga of the Hogwarts Pineapple. lol

hahaha lol post more soon!

Okay, apparently just kidding on the the end... I have more to add. Later.

Part II

Draco Malfoy was bitter. He was bitter as... the bitterest of bitter things. Very, very bitter. First of all, the prank war had been called off, barring his ability to randomly hex people between classes... particularly Potter. For a few weeks, Draco had been in the thick of things, throwing hexes and curses and gloating for days over Potter's sudden need to shout out in class, "I'm a little teapot!" There were now *groan* consequences for his actions. If that weren't enough to cause a frown on his ferret-y little face, the perpetrator of the greatest prank in Hogwarts history, including even the drop-out pair of Weasley twins, was unknown. Any glory Draco may have previously held was now masked by glorious and whispered speculation.

The usual suspects were Potty and the Weasel, Peeves, and even a Weasley twin recurrence. Draco had even heard a first year whispering his theory about Dumbledore. Of course, Draco was forced to hex the child with three day hiccups. Dumbledore! Pshaw! But no one suspected Draco Malfoy, and that hurt more than a little.

"Coulda done it," he muttered for the forth time in fifteen minutes. "I'm bad and I'm clever. No... I'm evil and I'm brilliant. Coulda been me."

Crabbe and Goyle stared at Draco stupidly. Well, let's be honest... everything they do, they do stupidly. I'll just save us a lot of time and trouble and not put that in anymore. The two had learned long ago to offer nothing or risk a hissy fit. Draco turned on them suddenly, a mad gleam in his pale eyes.

"I'm a Slytherin. I'm the pranking king! I just have to... um... reestablish my reign..." He flounced from the room.

Crabbe scratched his head. "It's going to rain?"

"Dunno," Goyle blinked. "We're inside. Doesn't matter."

"Why'd he tell us about the rain, then?"

"Are we going outside?"

The two were climbing out of the Common Room door just as Draco reappeared. He hauled them back in by stupefying and levitating them.

"Listen," he commanded, as he sat on Goyle's chest. "I have a plan. Where is the only place no one has been able to prank?" The other two boys were silent - not because they had no answer, true as that may be, but because you can't talk when you are stupefied. "That's right, the Common Rooms. We're going to get them on their own ground." Draco giggled maniacally, and Goyle tried to breathe. Crabbe was taking a nap.

***
Getting the password was easy enough. Draco caught Dennis Creevey in a deserted corridor. "Tell me where your Common Room is or I'll have Goyle practice Quidditch with your liver."

"A liver's no good for Quidditch. It just kinda splats..."

"Tell me!"

"No."

"Your stupid Gryffindor courage is wasted on me. I'll figure it out. I already know your password is Doxie Venom."

"No, it isn't! It's Weasley is our King."

Draco's eyes gleamed crazily as he muttered, "My mistake. Run along."

Dennis disappeared like he had a troll on his tail. Which he did, because Crabbe chased him a few feet.

"Now for the fun."

I forgot to post this... former dare components: I dare you to write a ff with the following points:
1) Snape must say, "Oh dear- not the fluffy bunny slippers joke AGAIN!
2)Bugs Bunny must make a cameo appearance.
3) Someone must come out of a closet. (take this as you want)
4) Someone must say, "Why look who's here! Everybody's favorite deatheater!
5) Draco must say, "Oh come on! Just because I'm a mean ugly smarmy git, doesn't mean that I'm evil!

YAY! Cass! WRITE MORE! YAY! YAY! YAY! (oh right... I caused this... didn't I?) Whatever. YAY!

This is great! Please keep going. :lol: :sorcerer: :flowersmile:

That was GREAT!
PAMS PAMS PAMS!!!!! :flowersmile: :flowersmile: :flowersmile: :flowersmile: :flowersmile: :flowersmile: :flowersmile: :flowersmile: :flowersmile:

The Gryffindor sixth years (and Ginny because the author enjoys her) reentered the Common Room after a grueling raid on the kitchen and a party in the Room of Requirement, which apparently is ever so perfect for parties if you remembered to think of sound proof walls and a lock on the door.

Harry and Neville were first in and the rest of the group soon found themselves in a messy pile of robes and limbs.

"What in the...?" Ron stopped, and his jaw dropped. The other Gryffs were also in various stages of shock, including stuttering and drooling.

The Common Room was a disaster, but definitely a man-made one. What looked like toothpaste, chocolate syrup, and honey was smeared all over the furniture and walls. A cloud of doxies hung drunkenly from the chandelier. Apparently, they were coerced into the room by offering them bottles of NyQuil, which quickly intoxicated them before putting them to sleep. On a side note, NyQuil also affects the author this way... well, the sleep part.

Hermione began to laugh. "Think she snapped?" Dean elbowed Seamus. "Bet you two galleons she..." Ron slapped Hermione, and she broke off to glare at him and rub her red cheek.

"What's up, Hermione?"

She gestured to the room. "It's very Parent Trap for a Slytherin prank, isn't it? Kind of obviously muggle-influenced." Blank stares until Harry and Dean, the only two with muggle interaction in their past, suddenly got the reference. They laughed too. "It's a movie," Hermione explained between giggles. "I... I can't... pranks... at camp."

"Is it like Devil's Snare?" Ron asked.

"What?

"The Parent Trap. But it only eats parents?"

Hermione, who's name has gotten way too long and hard to type and from here on in will be referred to by something else, shrugged. "No..." The portrait hold opened and McGonagal fell through the hole.

"So it's true..." she frowned. "The house elves told me, but I didn't... Well?"

"We didn't do it," nine voices chorused. It may have been more - counting is not this author's strong point. Harry pointed to a banner with a snake choking a lion. It said, "You Smell Like Rank Beet Stew and Look Like the Back of the Ugliest Hippogriff's Uglier Brother and We Don't Like You Very Much!"

"Eloquent," Ginny smirked.

"I don't care!" McGonagal sniffed. "I thought the pranking had stopped but apparently, I was mistaken. Clean it up - TONIGHT!" And she rolled back through the portrait hole. I'd like to emphasize the clumsiness, because McGonagol really struggles with that hole, as has been considering just blasting her way through the Fat Lady someday in the near future.

They stared at each other in agony. Everyone but Hermy had homework to completely create fictitious information for, Hermy herself wanted to knit more hats, and Ginny was in her OWL year - besides they were lazy and didn't know any good cleaning charms.

"I suppose," Mione said doubtfully after a long pause. Very long. Crickets and windchimes long. "I suppose we could try that animation charm. Where you give sentience to objects and they perform specific tasks? What could we animate?"

They gazed around the room, looking for something that belonged to them and that would clean. Afterall, it would be a very bad thing to perform experimental charms on someone else's homework or Nimbus.

"Our clothes?" suggested Parvati. They stared in shock at her - all had assumed she was only in the story to bulk up the group and had never expected her to speak.

"I'm so not taking off my robes, for one," Lavender inserted. "And I don't want them all accidently hexed to rags."

"Well... leave what you can," Hermio shrugged. "We'll make do."

She had scarcely blinked before everyone else disappeared, leaving her alone with 16 pairs of socks.

All seven years of Gryffindor House found the cleanest Common Room ever early the next morning. The tables were shiny and polished, and the crest on the wall had a bright new glaze of paint. Unfortunately, no one had the inclination to enjoy the sparkling room, because they found, upon entering the room, that the portrait hold was barricaded by hundreds of armed socks. Somehow, during the night, the socks charmed by Ninny had liberated all the socks in the tower. They clustered in the doorway, clutching fireplace tools, spare quills, and any other random pointy object that a sock could clutch and bludgeon with. One attractive argyle sported one of Ninny's elf hats, worn at a jaunty angle.

"Oy," said Ron. "What's going on here? I was wondering what happened to all my socks."

"The socks are... striking, I think," Harry replied. "That one over htere keeps trying to communicate, but socks don't..."

Ermione-hay interrupted. "Sockish. They speak Sockish. Does anyone here speak it?" They all blinked at her. "Honestly, people..."

Harry approached the thickest wool sock that appeared to be in charge. "I'm sorry," he said as politely as a person can when talking to footwear. "We don't speak Sockish. Could we send out for a translator?"

The sock gave a wiggle and Harry assumed that meant yes. A second year was sent to get help.

Everyone was waiting again in uneasy silence when screams of fear and pain broke out near the portrait hole. Seamus, having seen a hole in the ranks of socks (the author was tempted to put ranks of rankness but valiantly overcame the punny-ness in herself for the good of her readers), made a run for it. He claimed later he was light-headed from missing breakfast. The socks were jumping up and down on him, as well as aiming a few well placed kicks. Seamus was lucky they hadn't yet learned to manage the fireplace tools... Several Gryffs pulled him free and laid him on the plush couch. He moaned.

"Are you okay, mate?" Dean asked.

"I got lint in my mouth," he whined. "Tastes like feet."

"You are an idiot," the girl with bushy hair said.

Silence resumed as the students eyeballed the socks and the socks... well, they couldn't eyeball, so they, uh, stood there. Ron pointed out a limp, misshapen sock to Prefect Granger. "Ginny made those for me as her first knitting project."

"How darling," that one girl cupped her hands around the ugliest sock ever.

The sock flew up and punched her squarely in the nose, while its mate and several other socks kicked her as she ran across the room.

"You did that od purpose," she said thickly, holding her nose. "Hmph!"

"Honestly, how dumb can you be! It isn't my fault you do stupid things for a smart girl," Ron said, basically proving he'd be single for life.

"I dink I hate you," and Girl With Name refused to talk to Ron for several hours.

YAY! Sock rebellion! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!

lol... this is hilarious! post more soon. :lol:

Post more soon! this is great

I still love it! Even after re-reading it at a somewhat reasnonable hour! YAY! *bumpies*

hehe...i really like it! :lol: :lol: cheers! :beer:

lol!thats super funny! :lol: wuts with the white horse though?

Beware the socks of power!

Posting soon. I like to stay at least one day ahead of my posts :). So... soon.

CASS! You can't do that to me!? I was so excited when I saw, "Last post by Cassirin" and this is it? C'mon! BUMP! (do I really have to do that? I'm the one that bloody caused this ff!)

The second year emerged about the time they all should have been in their second morning class. Behind her, Dobby scrabbled through the portrait hole. His tall stack of hats wobbled perilously as he settled in front of Harry.

"Good morning, Harry Potter. I is hearing you is needing Dobby."

Harry turned on the second year. "I send you for help, you take 2 1/2 hours, and you bring back a half cracked house elf? Why should I not feed you to the socks?"

"I tried," she squeaked. "I went to McGonagal, who sent me to Dumbledore, who sent me to Dobby. Apparently, house elves are multilingual."

Harry sighed and turned back to Dobby. "You need to get us out of here!" His voice was quiet but very desperate. The room was starting to take on the crowded elevator at mid-day scent. The socks were soon going to be the closest thing to daisy fresh in the room.

Dobby approached the boss sock, whose voice sounded like pennies in the dryer. After listening a few moments, Dobby returned to Harry and Co. "First, you must be addressing him as Flaghoshiornianio, Linty King of the Sock Folk."

"Fine, King Flush-o, what does he want?"

"To be free of all human domination. And equal rights. They is living hard lives, Harry Potter. They is wanting a better world, away from stinky feet and mud puddles."

Harry looked as if he wanted to explode, and Ron noted it. "Look, mate, I'll negotiate with them. You go rest before a blood vessel explodes and you have to be resuscitated by foot wear." Harry nodded and escaped to a couch.

Hermione (your author couldn't think of any other names) was still not speaking to Ron, so he was on his own. He crouched in a corner with the Sock King and Dobby. For the next 45 minutes, the other Gryffs glanced over occasionally in curiosity. What was being said? Why did Ron look so enraptured? And when was lunch?

Finally, he rose and stretched. "Well," Dean said when Ron returned. "What's the plan?"

"They're letting us leave." The group cheered.

"How'd you do that?" a fifth year cooed at him in a way that made this author want to vomit.

"I agreed to all their demands." Everyone stared - they do that a lot... have you noticed?

"I'd be outraged," Seamus said, rubbing his stomach, "But access to food is worth any cost."

"They have legitimate concerns!" Ron protested. "Imagine carrying feet all day."

"Ron, they are socks. What else would they do?" Hermione broke her silence in favor of much needed common sense.

"Socks are people too!"

"socks are people two" ROTF! That's FUNNY!

:lol: I love it Cassirin keep it up!!

Although the rebelling socks let the Gryffs go about their business, their presence was not unfelt. Is that even a word? Roving bands of armed knee highs were seen patrolling the hallways and occasionally sock violence was whispered about. The students heard that Dumbledore was in negotiations with King Flush-o while the professors used their spare time to search for a way to undo Hermione's spell. She herself was quite frustrated with how her streak of never ever doing or saying or thinking or breathing anything wrong was apparently over. She trembled in class, fearful of whatever terrible outcome would occur next.

Ron, meanwhile, was up to something very secretive. He spent long hours working on notes, a frown of concentration on his freckled face. Sometimes, he would slip off, only to be found in the library.

"What's he up to, do you suppose?" Harry wondered.

"Obviously," Hermione pulled a quill from her hair to note something, "Someone is finally taking their homework seriously."

Behind her back, Ginny mimicked her and pulled faces. Harry snorted and, to distract Hermione, Ginny jumped in. "Actually, he's probably planning a comeback prank. He got a package yesterday, probably from the twins."

Hermione looked horrified, but said nothing.

After dinner, Ron slid onto a bench next to Hermione.

"Look, Hermione, you know those S.P.E.W badges of yours?" Hermione didn't get much interest with her brilliant equal rights endeavors, so she smiled at him so brightly he blinked and gulped several times in succession.

"Are you having some sort of facial spasm?" Hermione asked with concern.

"Yes, well, uh, I need help making some of my own," he said all in one breathe.

"Try breathing, Ron. It does wonders for the brain. Look, you can have some of mine," she was embarrassed to discover her own voice go rather breathless.

"No, you see... They're for my own society. S.P.I.T."

"Don't be vulgur. I'll do no such thing."

"No, it's called S.P.I.T." He pulled a few buttons from his robe. They all flashed SPLAT and hummed a tinny version of a Weird Sisters' song.

Hermione waved her wand, and they were all fixed. "What does SPIT stand for?"

"Sock Power - It's Time!" Ron said, managing pride and embarrassment simultaneously. "You can join, since I joined yours." He launched into an in-depth analysis of sock rights.

Hermione looked uncomfortable, shooting pleading glances to her classmate, who just as studiously ignored her plight, when Harry arrived. "Here, tell Harry!"

"I had no idea Hermione could move that fast," Dean leaned over and confided.

Ron opened his mouth, ready to share once again his glorious plans for the Sock Folk, when Harry interrupted. "You'll never guess what I heard. Ginny heard from Zymurgy, that troublesome prankster in her year, who heard from some third year, who was there... Draco Malfoy was attacked by a boggart!" He paused for emphasis.

"Why were you talking to my sister?"
"We talk," Harry looked annoyed. "We're friends. Will you listen, man? FOCUS! Malfoy had to deliver a message to the DADA professor, and they were doing a boggart lesson. He walks in and gets eaten alive by the boggart!"

Ron looked like a fish. A big one. With its mouth open. A big mouth. Let's all make a fish face... yeah. He looked like that. "Is he...?"

"Here's the thing, the kid who went just before Malfoy came in... he was a Muggle-born with an entirely too weird phobia of this giant Stay Puffed man from the Ghostbusters movie. Nevermind, Ron!" he yelled when Ron started to ask about it. "Malfoy was eaten by a mad marshmallow! They did the Riddikulus right away and rushed him to the infirmary, but I've heard he's gibbering about 'the fluff!'"

The boys laughed heartily, then Ron stopped. "Now... why were you talking to my sister?"

Hurray! I love it lots! Did my dare... and I'm in it! COOL! YAY! you made my day, cass, you really did.

I'm planning on posting later today... based on a well-shot dare from Zymurgy, I posted my last written "chapter" yesterday. Uh... I"m still a little too anal to just fly completely by the seat of my pants, but I'm working on that.

Thanks for all the postivity! I'm all warm inside.

This chapter is too long to be all one post... enjoy :).

Events came to a head the next day. Harry and Co. (the author notes she is lazy) were in potions, attempting a challenging new experiment - a sleeping potion that didn't taste like rotten cow dung. Harry and Ron's potion was currently pink and smelled like scrambled eggs. Unfortunately, it was supposed to be green and smell like peppermints.

Draco had been released from the infirmary, although he was still jumpy. Anything white caused him to twitch. Mashed potatoes at dinner were nearly a disaster and the mini marshmallows in his hot chocolate caused him to shriek something loud and indistinguishable about being stalked followed by running screaming all the way back to the infirmary. He was now hiding under a bed. At least potions was a Malfoy-free zone.

The three Gryffs paused in their work as the author's nefarious intentions sunk in. If you do not know what nefarious means, your author suggests you spend more time cracking books and less time reading fics like this. Anyway, yes... nefarious intentions sinking in.

"Oh no! Not Potions! Why during potions class!?" Harry hit his fist against the table, causing his potion to splash all over Ron. Ron immediately went to sleep, while his hair grew three feet and turned the Pepto pink of the potion.

The author stuck out her tongue, blew a raspberry, and told them to please ignore the woman behind the curtain. Fortunately, our hero, his lovely companion, and their narcoleptic pal (as well as countless others we can't be bothered to name) got back to their work and the author got back to her hand rubbing and cackling and Snape got back to his glowering and looking like a large bat with a big, greasy head.

The students were working as diligently as possible when a scary man is staring at you when the dungeon door swooped open and hit the opposite wall with a resounding bang.

"What is the meaning of..." Snape trailed off because the doorway was empty. Upon closer look, he realized that there were actually a number of our friendly woolen nemeses (your author checked... plural of nemesis) looking as forbidding as possible across the doorway. Dobby peeked his tomato-like nose around the corner of the frame, hoping to remain unobtrusive. It's hard not to be noticed when you are the only one taller than 6 inches.

*rooting* DoBY doBY doBY doBY doBY doBY doBY doBY doBY doBY

Wow, this is long... and this is it on this installment!

Snape used his terrifying glare and crooked a finger at Dobby, who immediately slunk into the room. "What is the meaning of this interruption?" His voice was low and dangerous.

"The King of the Sock Folk is wanting to talk with Harry's Weezy. They is thinking that he is the only one who will give them what they is needing," Dobby gulped and looked around. "They... they is wanting..."

"What?" Snape thundered, his voice echoing in the now silent chamber, broken only by the mutterings of Ron as he slept on. "What is it they want?" One of the Gryffindors near the door slipped behind the Sock Folk and ran for Dumbledore. "Are they aware they are interrupting my class?"

While all the students were cowering behind their cauldrons, the socks seemed strangely unperturbed. Maybe socks can't get perturbed. Maybe socks don't have faces and would make excellent poker players because they never give their emotions away. Maybe your author is now considering taking a sock to Vegas. Maybe your author is also considering admitting herself to some sort of "special home."

"They is saying that if they is not getting what they is wanting," Dobby rushed out in one long, frightened breath, "then they will be forced to be drastic."

"Idle threats," Snape almost purred and his students crouched lower. Except Ron, who began to snore. "What are they going to do? Clog up our lint traps?"

Snape's sarcasm was lost on the students, who were wondering what a lint trap was. Except for the Muggle-borns, who were wondering how Snape knew what a lint trap was.

"They is planning on eating anyone who is getting in their way," Dobby whispered.

Snape's face turned red. "I refuse to be eaten by a sock!" He searched for the appropriate response. "Twenty points from Gryffindor!"

Hermione leapt to her feet. "But, but, Professor Snape! We aren't responsible for the Sock Folk's desire to eat you."

"Silly girl!" he roared back. She knelt back down behind her cauldron gracefully. "It is YOUR fault they are animated, therefore it is your fault if they decide to eat me. For each sock that eats me, I will deduct an additional 20 points from Gryffindor." No one dared how he would do so from the inside of a sock.

"Actually, Severus," Dumbledore appeared in the doorway, "it isn't quite their fault that the socks were animated. If we must point fingers, we should probably point them at the Ministry for their law banning the warning labels that used to be attached to each pair of socks. Socks are highly volatile items and should not have any experimental charms placed upon them. But beyond pointing fingers, what are we to do with the socks now that they are here?"

"We could always feed the Gryffindors to them," Snape said with a sneer, clearly upset by his dark and gloomy bubble being popped. At the looks, he murmured, "I'm kidding. We should feed them the Hufflepuffs."

In the end, the school opted for a suggestion offered by Ronald Weasley, once he awoke from his deep, non-peppermint flavored sleep. A portion of the Forbidden Forest was cordoned off and donated to the SPIT cause. The socks were entered into a sort of capture and release program, and many of observers were surprised at how well the socks adapted to living in the highly dangerous Forest. Of course, they did keep the fireplace tools, which the Gryffindor house was only too happy to donate to the cause of getting the socks out of Hogwarts. For their part, the socks are happy and accept any visitors that come down to their patch of land. Dobby refuses to visit.

Draco is still afraid of marshmallows. He has temporarily forgotten his mad plot to take over as king of all pranks in the irrational fear that his pillow is actually a marshmallow in disguise. He is not getting much sleep.

Hermione has gotten over her deep and abiding fear of ending all of time and space and is once again confident in her role as "she who knows all things." She initially was very angry that Ron's idea beat out her own of trying to trick them all into going into the dryer. She argued, quite persuasively, that, "Socks disappear from the dryer all the time." Dumbledore felt it lacked a sense of good will and fair sportsmanship. Hermione thinks Dumbledore is jealous.

Harry is content in his role as undeclared leader and all around good guy. He somehow managed not to pop a blood vessel during this fic, although the author wonders how. She also suggests anger management courses. He continues to speak to Ginny whenever he wants, despite Ron's disgruntlement.

Ron visits the Wild Sock Reserve quite often and is viewed as a sort of hero. He enjoys this, except that it causes his ears to turn rather red. The red clashes badly with his still pink hair, which Madame Pomfrey and Snape argue will turn back any day now. Then they giggle.

No one really cares about the rest of the Gryffs at this time, although it is safe to tell you that we will all meet again someday. And maybe they will actually get more than one line a piece.

Here were the req's for this dare:
*Draco must be eaten by a mad marshmallow.
*The socks must rebell against Human domination.
*Hermione must be attacked by a pair of Rons socks and hate him for this.
*Ron must start an anti sock club called "SPIT" which means whatever you choose it to. (I realize now that I got this one backwards... I'm sorry!)
*Harry must say, "oh no! Not Potions! Why during potions class!?"
*And Snape must say, "I refuse to be eaten by a sock! 20 points from Gryphindoor!"

And I'm now unemployed in the ff dept.

HURRAY! *cracks up* That was... so... brilliant! *shakes hands with Cass* I so enjoy working with you.
Unemployed? *grins evilly* Not for long....

*Rubs hands together* What now? Bring it on :)

:lol: :lol: LOL!!! I haven't laughed that much in ages! Totally awesome, Cass! :lol: :lol:

This was my fave part:
Hehehehehehehehe....

It's short... and it's weird, but sometimes you just have to get started.

Nothing is ever quiet at Hogwarts, although some days are less filled with drama and hijinks than others. Following what went down in Hogwarts legend as "The Sock Revolt," life was comparatively very quiet. The Slytherins were still gloating about their trashing of the Gryffindor Common Room, believing that now was the perfect time to rest on their laurels. Laurels, however, are a kind of leafy hat, I think, and do not sound particularly safe for resting upon. This being the case, the Gryffs had spent many a quiet night plotting and planning their revenge against the vile and... vile Slytherins. They were beginning to suspect that McGonagal had a spy, though. She was always in the right place at the right time to spoil their pranking fun.

"Not up to mischief, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasely?" she'd ask with an eyebrow raised that said quite plainly she knew they were indeed up to mischief. McGonagal had quite multi-lingual eyebrows.

So Harry and Ron were quite depressed that their life for once consisted of homework, class, and extracurricular activities only. There was no mischief to manage and no research of impending crises to be huddled over in the library. In short, they were bored. Hermione wasn't bored; in fact, she was thrilled. Peer pressure is an ugly thing, however, and she pretended to be bored too.

The day they entered the Great Hall to hear a slight titter making its way around the massive room, Harry and Ron immediately perked up. A titter was something, as well as titter being a really funny word. If nothing else, they could at least talk about the titter and then giggle over it. Titter!

After settling in at the Gryff table, the three were pounced on by an excited Neville waving a Daily Prophet. His face was red, and he was struggling to squeeze out a coherent sentence.

"What's going on, Neville?" Three bright and enthusiastic faces watched him eagerly, and Harry even tried to snatch the paper from Neville's grasp. Neville clutched it closer to himself.

"The Prophet says that Celestina Warbeck is going on a world tour, and one of her stops is going to be Hogwarts. She'll be here in only a few weeks."

Their faces fell. Harry looked bored, Ron looked angry, and Hermione tried to hide her slight interest. "She's a singer, isn't she?"

"A singer? Do ye live in a cave?" Seamus leaned in and joined their conversation, quite rudely I might add. "She's the one and only Singing Sorceress! She's..." he trailed off, a strange and distant look on his face.

"And we lost him," Hermione said, turning back to Neville. She started to speak when she noticed that Neville also had a strange and distant look on his round face. "We've lost two of them." She looked to Harry and Ron, who shrugged.

"What's so special about Celestina Warbeck?"

Update! Update! (c'mon! I could do it, right?)

I will not be pressured into updating... I will not be pressured into... okay, I'll update!

Over the next few days, the student body became more and more excited. Harry and Ron tried to get excited too, but after nearly dying so many times, they were hard pressed to find much of anything exciting anymore. Sad, to be jaded at so young an age...

"I don't get it," Ron whined. "She's just this famous singer. My parents like her, but she's just... I don't get it." He was losing friends fast by daring to speak so of the famous and beautiful Celestina.

"She's not just a singer!" Seamus snapped out of his Celestina-induced haze long enough to be deeply offended.

Harry's excitement level rose considerably when he overheard Draco Malfoy speaking in a low, confiding voice to Crabbe or Goyle - who are starting to look very much the same.

"When she sings," his voice went all sappy and the author was tempted to be sick, "it's as if the entire world narrows down to her voice and her face. She's singing to me. She loves me."

"Malfoy's a big fan of this Celesta Warhawk," Harry reported back to Ron and Hermione. "I think we could use this against him."

"What are you talking about?" Hermione snapped over top of her book. "We can't prank Malfoy anymore. McGonagal has some sort of super radar on our wands."

"Think outside the wand, Hermione," Harry said. "You know what Monty Python's boys always say..."

"You know better than to make Muggle references in front of Ron," the girl sighed as the aforementioned boy's eyes glazed over.

"Fine! We won't get caught using magic to prank Malfoy because we won't USE magic to prank Malfoy. We'll use our wily and crafty brains," he tapped a finger against his skull.

"Right," Ginny responded. "Because as we all know, Gryffindors are legendary for their wily and crafty brains. Come off it... what can we possibly to do mortify Draco without magic?"

Harry had an evil little smile that made them all shiver a bit before responding in kind. "Let's use the Hogwarts rumor mill to our benefit."

Here's the rest of that part... it was too long.

For a male who actually was quite anti-social (admit it... two friends. What else can you call it?), Harry could work gossip like it was a fine art form. He carefully tracked and re-tracked lines of communication, and then sent his lies forth in a variety of paths, all heading towards a quite susceptible Draco Malfoy.

"So, I heard," Hannah Abbott whispered just loud enough to be over-heard in History of Magic, "I heard that Celestina just broke up with her boyfriend of three years because he was too blond." Hannah and Susan Bones stifled a giggle as Draco visibly jumped three rows away.

"I read about that in Witch Weekly," Susan added, noting that Hannah was about to lose it to the giggles. "She wants someone who's appearance matches her own. What does that mean?"

Later at dinner, Cho Chang started a loud discussion with the Ravenclaws about what kind of music Celestina would like best. "I heard from a first year, who's dad used to work for Celestina, that she loves to listen to old Muggle tunes. Like the Beatles."

"Muggles are so weird," Draco murmured to himself. "Who would name a band after an insect?"

Crabbe and Goyle stared at him. Were they supposed to answer or was this one of those roportacal questions? (For those of you who think your author is dumb... I know its rhetorical, but THEY don't... and I'm not about to tell them.)

"It's too bad we aren't playing a Quidditch game while Celestina Warbeck is here," Blaise Zabini stated, lounging across a plushy green armchair.

"Why's that?" Draco cast a sly eye.

"Word is that she is very impressed by fine physical fitness. You know, strength, agility, balance. That'd be a good way to show off."

Draco was remarkably silent for the next few days, although he was seen chasing down Muggle-born first years, interviewing them, and then swearing them to secrecy by promising to occasionally greet them in the halls. He never did, but the first years felt important nonetheless. Draco had some sort of plan... and little did he suspect that he was being cornered right into the plan by his nemeses.

*pressers Cass to update* C'mon!

Short one...

The day before the famous Celestina Warbeck performed at Hogwarts, the volume of the school had finally reached a dull roar. Professors, for the most part, completely gave up on attempting to teach. McGonagal gave them a rowdy study hall and simply stared down her nose at them. Sprout claimed they were going on a "nature hike" to look at natural foliage and didn't seem to notice that no one went with her. Trewlawney predicted that class would be let out early... and lo and behold it was! Flitwick hid under his desk from a careless group of students who kept misfiring their charms and then disappeared themselves when he vanished. Snape tried valiantly to keep order in his classroom and attained a record for most points taken during the course of a class period. No one cared but him.

Finally, the day ended with a loud dinner in which only half the professors made an appearance at the staff table. The rest hid in their rooms and waited for normality to return. This being a complete misnomer because nothing is ever quite "normal" at Hogwarts... but I digress. Again.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione, despite their apathy about Celestina, were excited for their own reasons. Draco Malfoy was looking particularly smug, and they imagined his face when his bubble popped. This was actually a favorite day dream of Harry's... not that he would admit that any of his mental images had anything to do with Malfoy.

Neville fiddled with a bottle, popping the top off, considering the bottle carefully, and then replacing it.

"Whatcha got there, Neville?" Ron asked leaning over and making a swipe at the bottle.

Neville jerked the bottle away from Ron. We all know Neville quite well at this point, and clumsy is a generous term for our accident-prone Gryffindor. So... the bottle went flying. Unfortunately, the top was currently off and the bottle was aimed at Harry. He found himself covered in a powerful, musky scent.

"Ugh! What is that?" Ginny gasped for breathe, leaning away from Harry and nearly falling off the bench. She was lucky. Hermione was sitting on his other side, caught a big whiff, and immediately fell over. Harry was too concerned with his scent to notice.

"No!" Neville jumped to his feet and made a grab for the bottle, which was now empty and quite useless to him. "It's cologne. My gram bought it for me for my birthday. I heard that it's Celestina's favorite." His eyes pooled with tears of frustration, although it may just have been the overwhelming musk. "Now she'll never notice me."

Ron leaned back from the table and breathed through his mouth. "Trust me, Neville, you're better off without it. Although, I suppose Harry could rub up against you or something to transfer the smell..."

Neville's eyes lit up, and Harry interjected, "No way! Besides, I don't smell that bad."

Ginny slid off the bench altogether. "I think you can't smell yourself anymore, Harry. You... you... you reek!"

"I'm not that bad," Harry argued. "You don't hear Hermione complaining..." He trailed off and looked around for his friend. "Where'd she get off to, anyway? Ah, there she is..." he spotted her feet still propped up on the bench she'd tumbled off of. "Taking a nap during dinner...?"

He was interrupted by a small, squeaky voice. "Excuse Dobby, Harry Potter, sir." One small hand clutched his tomato-shaped nose. "I is having the thingy you is wanting." He handed over a small package, which Harry tucked into his pocket.

"Are you alright, Dobby?" Ginny asked with concern from her place on the floor.

Dobby looked embarrassed for a moment, then blurted out, "Harry Potter stinks," in the general direction of the floor. With an "Eep," followed by a loud crack, Dobby disappeared.

"I'm going to go take a bath," Harry muttered.

*falls over laughing*

that was great!!! :lol: :lol: update, update!!

Aww... I love when people post :). It makes me so happy. I'll update soon... doing some formatting stuff to the next installment.

Despite the scrubbing, Harry still smelled like Eau de Hippogriff quite strongly (I'm sure it has another name, but that's what it was dubbed after several hours). Actually, he kind of liked the sensation it caused. Everywhere he went, people gave him a wide berth, conversations were cut short, and generally Harry didn't have to deal with many people. I told you he was antisocial!

At last, the expected moment arrived. The students gathered on the front lawn, reminiscent of the Triwizard Tournament. Celestina arrived in a long, white stretch carriage with quiet matching horses pulling. Hermione raised an eyebrow at this show and shook her head, but the majority of the student body was suitably impressed.

The students caught only a glimpse of Celestina, wide blue eyes and a cloud of black ringlets, before she was hustled into the school. Burly body guard wizards crossed their arms and looked intimidating. Actually, they just looked a lot like Crabbe and Goyle, and the
students had a hard time taking them seriously.

The concert wasn't scheduled until much later that evening, after the dinner feast that everyone pretended was special, but let's be honest and recognize that they hold feasts for every occasion. "Oh, the toast burned... let's have a feast!"

"We don't have to do anything but sit back and relax," Ron sighed, doing just these things. "And tonight, Draco is in for the biggest surprise of his ferrety existence."

Hermione looked thoughtful. "What if he doesn't wait to see Celestina? What if he puts his "plan" into action in private?"

Harry sat up suddenly, the maniacal gleam in his eye. "That won't do at all! We'll have to protect poor Ms. Warbeck from any unwanted attention until the appropriate time."

"And how do you plan to do that?"

"We'll follow her around and hex anyone that gets remotely close to her."

"But that's... so juvenile."

"Hermione, face it. We're juveniles. Maybe you've been 45 since birth, but I'm 16. I intend to act like it."

In order to prove that she was in fact not middle aged, Hermione tagged along as Ron and Harry went in search of Celestina Warbeck. Ginny went as well, because the author is supporting woman power today!

Celestina wasn't hard to find, considering she was surrounded by large, scary wizards who thought they could glare you to death.

"Please... I've had Snape and Uncle Vernon glaring at me my whole life. These guys are amateurs."

The four hid around the corner from the rooms Celestina and her party were occupying, playing a quite game of Exploding Snap. Well, as quiet as possible with a name including exploding. Strangly enough, the guards never noticed any of the commotion, although it may be that your author made them deaf. She can't remember... too many characters.

Every student who wandered down the corridor in search of an autograph or the chance to declare their undying love was soon convinced one way or another that they should turn around and leave. Ginny handled most of them since she had so successfully rebuffed the student body when the trio had broken into Umbridge's office.

"Do you smell that? Some sort of potions accident. They say several students have been horribly disfigured. Extra noses, you know. Leaving so soon?"

Harry was unhappy that she was using his still overwhelming smell in such a way.

"Honestly, Harry, you stink. Why should I make something up when they can smell you themselves?"

"I think the real question," a frighteningly familiar voice seemed to ooze from behind them, "is what you are doing in this corridor at all." They turned to find Snape in all his "Spector of Death" glory.

"We, uh... we knew how tired Ms. Warbeck would be after her long trip. We were just making sure no students disturbed her," Harry gave a very altered version of the truth in such a way that every word sounded doubtful.

Snape had a pained expression on his face. "How very... considerate of you, Potter," he murmured. "I'm sure the guards can handle it. Why don't you go back to your Common Room until the performance?"

The four counted themselves lucky to escape with no punishment and began to hurry down the hall.

"Why'd he let us get away with that stupid excuse?" Ron whispered. "And what is Snape doing up here anyway? So far from the dungeons... reckon he was lost?"

Harry looked over his shoulder and saw that Snape had not moved. In the doorway ahead of him, Celestina Warbeck moved to reenter her room.

"He didn't yell at us because there was a famous Singing Sorceress as witness," Harry gestured over his shoulder. "You don't suppose that Snape is a big fan of Celestina too?"

They all grinned at each other gleefully.

*chuckles evilly* well...kinda more like *rolling on the floor laughing hysterically*

*strikes evil pose* Finnish this.... or else!

Wow, your good at this. A little too good if you ask me.

I would have to say that my favorate quote is "Sock's are people too you know!" :lol:

Makes my ff look like, umm..........well, something really stupid, ok!
I'm not as good with words as some people are.
QUIT MAKING FUN OF ME!!!! *runs away mumbling something about "stupid people think their so great with their good humor and their witty conversation!"* >:(

*Blushes* Awww... here's a new section. In the spirit of "Subbing for the Fifth Graders and Hating Your Life."

The Hogwarts concert of Celestina Warbeck went off without a hitch. Celestina's reputation was well founded. She was beautiful to look at, dressed in filmy robes of her trademark blue that matched her eyes. Her voice was light and airy. And her wand skills were very impressive, as she caused colors and light to dance around her throughout the performance.

She managed to attain three new fans. Harry and Ron, being male and teenagers, thought she was beautiful and had this distant and funny look on their face.
It was the same look they had been teasing their other friends about all week, but we'll be polite and not mention it. Hermione kept shaking her head and saying, "Such concentration. Can you imagine?" No one responded to her, but no one usually did, so Hermione didn't even notice.

The low spot of Hermione's evening had been when everyone else got up to dance to a particularly upbeat favorite. She had been moving rather inexpertly herself when she noticed the house elves lined up against the far wall. They watched with rapt expressions, their little hands clasped in front of them.

Hermione, as is usual of our bushy-haired friend, was outraged. "They aren't even allowed to dance!?"

Ron looked confused and paused, which was much preferred to his mode of dancing, which involved bobbing and disjointed clapping. He wasn't one for rhythm. He noticed where her attention was and shrugged.

"Maybe they just don't like to dance. Or don't know how."

Hermione stomped over to the elves, pushing aside Celestina fans in her haste. When they saw their dreaded nemesis/ savior, many of them hid or ran. Somehow, Hermione didn't notice their dislike of her. She grabbed Dobby's hand and pulled him into the crowded room.

"But miss, I is needed in the kitchen. There is refreshments after the show..." Hermione accidentally stepped on his toe, and he stopped talking. She was wearing sharp little shoes... and I'm not all that certain it was an accident. Just a note for those of you who are suspiciously minded.

Despite Dobby's obvious lack of enthusiasm, Hermione tried to get him to dance. The poor elf was worse than Ron, and that's saying something. He had no sense of rhythm and no control of his body limbs. Hermione thought fast... what dance could she teach that took no skills at all?

Ron and Harry were, as usual, completely oblivious to Hermione's plight. They bobbed and weaved, growing to love Celestina all the more.

After a few minutes, Ron looked around and noticed Hermione, holding onto Dobby and directing his limbs. Dobby was frightened and tearful.

"What is Hermione doing to Dobby?" Ron asked, worried about her sanity.

Harry looked over, watched for a moment, and began to laugh. "Teaching him the Electric Slide." At Ron's look, he added, "Muggle line dance."

They alternated listening to Celestina and watching Hermione... you had to laugh at her sometimes. The three of them had pretty much forgotten all about their Malfoy prank.

However, at the end of the show, as the clapping began to die down, Draco Malfoy burst through the doors to the Great Hall. As he ran towards the dais that was being used as a stage, the trio (and all the helpers who were also in on the prank) leaned forward in their seats expectantly.

See, now's the part where you should keep going, because it's not very nice just to leave us hanging like that!!! >:(

but wow, very funny. Hermione teaching Dobby the Electric Slide :lol: :lol:

Oh dear... *falls over* We may just all die laughing...

Finally...

Celestina paused mid-bow, her large blue eyes confused. No one ever interrupted her concert or her singing. Most people merely blinked and applauded when she was finished. She liked it that way - an entire audience eating out of the palm of her hand. And now there was this strange boy running through the crowd and RUINING her moment. Celestina had mastered the placid, innocent look, but beneath that she was mad. Too many people weren't looking at her.

Draco skidded to a stop right in front of the platform. Out-of-breath, he clutched his chest as the student body, staff, and the Singing Sorceress all got a good look at our favorite ferret.

First, his hair was no longer blond. Instead, it was a violent shade of blue that very nearly matched Celestina's eyes. His clothing was a matching vibrant shade of blue that made several students eyes water in pain.

As everyone was becoming accustomed to his appearance, Draco bent slightly and lifted one leg off the floor, looking for all the world like a blue flamingo. That sounds like it should be an alcoholic beverage of some kind... note to self, look into blue flamingos.

Anyway, Draco Malfoy was standing on one leg, striving to remain perfectly balanced. Then he hopped. And again. And again.

Harry had his fist clenched and was biting on it to keep from laughing. Ron was turning red to keep from bursting. And Hermione's lips were pressed into a thin, disapproving line, but the sparkle in her eyes showed that she was trying not to laugh too. The rest of the student body was in awe, completely unable to do as much as titter.

As if things couldn't get any worse, Draco THEN opened his mouth, and began to belt out a very poor version of "Yellow Submarine." Apparently, Draco's first year source of Muggle music was either the child of Beatles' fans or had a wicked sense of humor of his own.

While he sang, Draco occasionally gave little hops, wobbling dangerously on his one leg. He would correct himself and smile victoriously as he continued. At the end of his song, he put his foot down and bowed formally to Celestina.

Her gaze was incredulous, and it matched that of every single student and staff member, save the trio. They were still trying to contain their laughter. Ron let out a snort that echoed around the room. Somehow, that noise snapped the rest of the Great Hall from their spell, and laughter filled the air around an undisturbed Draco Malfoy. He merely waited for Celestina to announce her undying love for him and take him off into the sunset.

She cleared her throat, and glanced around nervously. While Celestina had some experience in dealing with obsessed fans, this was above and beyond any circumstance she had previously dealt with. A mad and dangerous boy was hopping up and down and singing songs with words she had never heard. Was it some sort of mad incantation? And his hair was blue!

"Um..." she cleared her throat. "Do you... do you do anything else?"

He looked perplexed for only a moment before offering, "I can hop on my other leg." Then he did the flamingo impression again, beginning to sing, "Yellow Submarine" a second time. He had a very limited repertoire.

"You know what I was wondering?" Hermione shouted over the laughter that persisted around them. The boys leaned in to listen. "If we turned him into a ferret right now, would he be a blue ferret?"

The boys pulled out their wands. "Only one way to find out."

The End

We all live in a yellow submarine!
A yellow submarine!

lol!!!!!!!!!! that was funny!!!!!! :lol: no don't finish....

*wipes tears of laughter from eyes* :lol: :lol:

:huh: :o :P :D :lol:
Weird, Shocking, Silly, Enjoyable, Histerical.

Say Lotus as she is interviewed by the camera's.

BLUE Draco!? My eyes! My eyes! *evil grin* You are now... fickless... WATCH YOUR BACK!

Oops... I forgot this part. Here's the dare:

1) Snape must say, "Thank you, Potter. That was very... considerate." and he's got to MEAN that, too.
2) Hermione must try to teach someone to dance.
3) Dobby must say, "Harry Potter stinks" for some reason or other.
4) Draco must jump up and down on onw foot and sing beatles tunes.
5) Someone must say, "But that's so... juvenile!"


I might be ficless but at least I'm not feckless. I'm sure that's a real word... and it is something to strive to not be.

It's that time again... Weirdness ensues...

Once again, we find our favorite Gryffindors. They were looking, and feeling, quite bored in History of Magic. Harry was doodling on a piece of scrap paper, trying to think of something exciting and death-defying to do. After all, what was Harry Potter without a bit of adventure and defying of death.

Harry taps on the computer screen.

"Eep... Harry! Don't do that. You aren't supposed to distract me and the readers. Go back to doodling."

"No way! Hermione, Ron and I want you to stop with all of the pranking story lines. We feel that they have gotten old and boring."

"Yes, because you're a great judge, Fictional Harry Potter! Get back to looking bored. Please!"

"Ugh, don't whine, Cassirin. It's very unattractive." Harry confers with Ron and Hermione, while the rest of the class politely pretends not to notice. "If you don't do something original, we're going to strike."

"How exactly are you going to do that, O Character that I write?" The author, who refuses to refer to herself as I, feels very clever at this point. "If I write you doing it, you'll do it!"

"Fine then," Ron pouted. "We'll write a letter to our real author and complain about you. She'll roll over in her grave!"

"She isn't dead, you imbecile," Hermione muttered from the corner of her mouth.

"First, she'll die of shock. Then she'll roll over in her grave."

The author beat her head against the computer. That did nothing good except give the author a bigger headache and make the computer sad. "How will you write a letter? You have no fingers!" She yelled and typed furiously.

"Eep..." Ron gasped, looking at his stubby little hands. "I have no fingers."

The author giggled and gave him his fingers back. "Now... I will take your requests into consideration, but remember who's the boss here. What kind of plot did you have in mind?"

"Can we do something dangerous?" Harry pleaded. "Something where I risk my life unnecessarily and end up all bloody and in the hospital wing. Nobody gets to see the hospital wing in your fics except Draco. And he was afraid of a bloody marshmallow." Behind his back, Ron shook his head desperately to signal NO! Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed.

Ron and Hermione quickly jumped in with their own suggestions of logic based mysteries, a Quidditch sports fic, and even a romance, although everyone turned quite red and wouldn't talk anymore after that. From one side of the room, Neville jumped up and waved his hand.

"Excuse me, miss. I mean, Madam Author..."

"You could always call me Princess Cassirin," the author said sarcastically, but Neville seemed not to notice.

"Maybe you could write a fic with someone other than the trio as a main character..." he trailed off at the looks from the class. Even Professor Binns, who never noticed anything, was looking startled.

"You want to be important to my story?" the author said, her voice oozing with false sweetness. Neville nodded. "Fine."

All of a sudden there was a fishbowl on Neville's head. "Hey, wha der fshbl n ma hd?" Neville asked.

Ron gaped. "There's a bloody fishbowl on Neville's head."

"Dah's wt ah sed," Neville grunted.

The author laughed. "Now, let's see what happens."

Ah, poor Cass, good characters are hard to find.

You could try giving them peanuts as a reward for following the script.
Or carrots if you like. :roll: :carrot:

Aren't I evil!? *evil pose* Finish this or ... *eyebrow raise* Dun Dun DUN!

LOL :lol:
first a sock revolt, and now a character revolt! What a story... oh and don't forget the blue draco.... keep up the great work! :D :yoshi:

Beware of angry authors...

For a fishbowl, it was really very nice. Perfectly round and brand spanking new, there was no unsightly algae or creeping crud. Neville couldn't have done better, fishbowl-wise. It was the height of fishbowl fashion. Somehow, though, Neville was unhappy.

"Peas, it de fshbl ff me ed."

"What?"

"We really need to get that fishbowl off to understand what Neville is saying."

Neville sighed, which is actually quite a feat with a fishbowl on his head.

"Tra ta cur ba spn," Neville mumbled.

"What?"

"Ron, I really don't think that saying what and having Neville repeat himself is going to make him any easier to understand."

"Maybe he wnats us to cure hiim by spinning the fishbowl," Ginny suggested.

Hermione's eyes were wide with panic. "No! He's threatening to kill us with a spoon. He's gone all homicidal." The others looked at Hermione with amusement and concern, but Hermione's eyes darted around in search of errant silverware. The spoons were coming!

The youth (can you tell your author is forced to be a little creative with what she calls the Gryffs in question?) all tried to come up with methods of releasing Neville's head. They twisted and pulled, must to Neville's dismay. Ginny tried to butter his head, resulting only in a very slick Neville who they no longer could twist and pull. Neville didn't mind that so much, but he was quite unhappy about how he kept sliding out of bed.

"This," Harry grumbled, "is all our author's fault. She's the one who..." he paused, suddenly craving cotton candy. "You know, I'm suddenly craving cotton candy." Everyong looked at him, except Hermione who was on the lookout for murderous spoons.

"Hold up," Harry's face lost its pensive, hungry look. "I've never had cotton candy! Stop trying to distract me, Cassirin."

"That's Princess Cassirin to you!" The author laughed, and Neville grumbled something completely rude and inappropriate. Nobody understood him except the author, but that was enough. Neville gave a little gasp as there were suddenly fish swimming around his head in the fishbowl. The gasp sounded more like, "Glub, glub," but it was a gasp and everyone heard it.

LOL! Kudos! Very good story! :D Keep writing more!

:yoshi:

lol! oh cass...u r evil hehehe! keep posting or :shifty: .... :monkey:

*bows to princess Cass* We are evil, friends, we are truly evil! *Evil pose*

Last bit... and yes, I am an Ohio State fan!

The Gryffindors stared at the small yellow goldfish circling Neville's head, while Neville attempted to follow their path as well. He stopped because his eyes kept crossing.

"Glub, glub," Neville said.

"What?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and held her tongue. Ron never learned, no matter what she said.

The kind and beautiful author took the water and fish from the bowl because Neville was starting to look quite frantic, despite the fact that he also looked quite purple from being inside a bowl of water (and goldfish).

"I swa'd fsh," Neville's muffled shout caused all the kids to jump back into action.

"What?" Hermione batted Ron on the back of the head.

"Oh, bloody baskets of bread, I think Neville swallowed one of those goldfish!" Ginny was getting fairly adept at interpreting Neville.

"Das wha ah sed," Neville sighed.

"What?" Ginny kicked Ron in the shins.

"We need to get him to the infirmary!" Hermione shouted.

Harry looked at her incredulously. "It was a fish, Hermione, not one of his Potions assignments."

Neville said something else that was rude, but it wasn't aimed at the author, so she let it slide.

"We might as well," Ron suggested, alternating rubbing his head and his shins because the mean girls were always picking on him. Honestly, he had no idea why they hit him, and thus was doomed to repeat his mistakes.

Once in the infirmary, the Gryffs were surprised to see Snape running laps around the beds. Madam Pomfrey shrugged. "A misfired hex hit a bad batch of Potions and exploded on him. He thinks he's a Buckeye preparing for a Bowl game." Snape began to do sit ups.

The Gryffs glared at the author but kept their mouths shut. No reason to get upset at a random Ohio State University reference when the author was so clearly vindictive.

"Madam Pomfrey!" Ginny was shouting. Harry rolled his eyes, and Hermione hid behind a bed because she saw something silver glinting and suspected it was a spoon. Ron just hopped along, trying to rub his shin and head at the same time. "Neville has a fishbowl on his head and he just swallowed a fish! What can we do?"

"O-H!" Snape yelled.

"Nothing," she said simply. "In its most violent form, fishbowlitis must simply run its course."

"I-O!" Snape responded to himself.

Neville groaned and hit his head against the wall. The bowl cracked and crumbled around him. The kids looked at him in surprise, and Neville rubbed his slightly red forehead in disbelief.

"Now," the author said cracking her knuckles. "Anybody else have any 'suggestions' for me?"

Everyone was silent, except Snape, who was singing "Hang on, Sloopy."

lol! oh that was funny! :lol: keep it up.... :shifty:

Snape doing situps? BAD MENTAL IMAGE! *bangs head against wall* But... Nevill's fish was funny! Oh dear... *evil pose* I am EVIL!

Great Cass and just that little bit twisted.

More you say?
Ok, here comes.

Here are the dare requirements. If you read this and want in on the action, I suggest you go to the Evil Elite FF Darers board in Zonko's...:

1) A goldfish bowl must be central to the story.
2) Madam Pomphry must say, "nothing- in it's most violent form"
3) Snape must exersize.
4) Harry must express desire for cotton candy.
5) Hermione must fear a piece of silverwear of your choice.

And, now, for something a little different...

Today, we join our heroes... no, wait. I changed my mind. Those whiny babies don't get a story. Today's episode will take a look at the next, I mean LAST generation.

The Marauders were in their third year when our story opens. At this point, I should probably inform you about many things you already know or do not care about. For example, Remus was a werewolf, but no one knew. Well, he knew... Peter Pettigrew was this little runty kid who followed them around but was not yet evil. I've met evil 13-year-olds, but they weren't really EVIL in the way that evil things are evil. In the betray-your-best-friends-and-cut-off-your-hand sort of way. That Lily girl is around, but she's obviously not that important yet, except as someone to torment and hate and secretly adore for her spunk.

What was I talking about... oh, yes, they were third years. As is to be expected in any fanfic, all the fine young Gryffindors were in Potions. The teacher, Professor Splishinsplash, was quite accident-prone. She was notorious for stirring just a bit too hard and sprinkling the front row with some sort of potion. The smart students, for once in their careers, sat in the back of the room.

"I'm boooo-red!" Sirius whined in a loud whisper. James ignored him, watching Professor Splishinsplash catch herself on fire for the fourth time in ten minutes. Lily whipped her head around to glare at him, her long red ponytail nearly dragging through James and Sirius's potion's experiment.

"Watch it, Lily," James cautioned, trying to save her hair from the potion. At this point, their potion was as likely to shrivel her hair as set it on fire. He grabbed a handful of hair. Unfortunately, his hand went one way and her head went the other.

"Ouch!" Lily smacked James, causing his potion to overturn anyway. It glop, glop, glopped harmlessly to the floor. "What are you, four?"

"Nice move," Sirius whispered loudly again to the despairing James. "But I'm still bored."

"Talk to Remus. I'm busy," James murmured 'Evanesco' and began his potion again.

Sirius shot Remus a glance. Their friend was working one table over with the potions-challenged Peter. He looked pale and tired, but he couldn't be distracted because their table wasn't on fire.

"Remus is... weird," Sirius added. "There's something going on with him, and I don't know what."

James ignored him and worked on his potion. Sirius tapped a shrivelfig against the cauldron. "Quit that! I don't know either. Why don't you go bother him to find out?"

A delicious smell wafted across the room. James stopped chopping beetles and Sirius perked up considerably. Professor Splishinsplash even seemed to take notice. She swooped across the room, stumbling over five or six stools along the way and unknowingly catching her robes on fire. She stopped in front of Severus Snape's cauldron, and Lily quickly stomped out the fire.

The professor eyed his potion. She stuck a ladle in and brought the liquid to her nose. She sniffed delicately.

"50 points from Slytherin for making..." she sniffed again, "Chicken and stars soup."

Remus choked back a laugh, and James eyed him, saying, "Remus seems normal to me. He even had time to change Snape's ingredients list."

:lol: :lol:
LOL!!! That's great! Absolutely brilliant! Bravo! Have a yoshi! :yoshi:

professor splishinsplash! lol! thats good!

*evil pose* MWAHAHAHA!!!!

Keeheehee! :lol:

Hey! Stop leaving random evil laughter! It scares the chickens.

The Marauders had a busy week, in their own way. Remus, suffering all the badness a full moon brings, was tired and quiet. Peter... who cares? Sirius watched Remus closely, looking for clues to his moods and growing increasingly irritable himself. James followed poor Lily around, explaining himself and apologizing, two activities the newest Gryffindor Chaser never participated in.

"Please, Li... Evans... I didn't mean to. I'm sorry."

"Potter! The stalker act is boring. Move along."

"Not until you forgive me. I'm so, so sorry."

"Yeah, and our first born will be named Harry."

He finally gave up in disgust. Girls were ridiculous and petty, and James Potter had much better things to do then try to befriend this particular redhead. He renewed his zest for pranking by planning one just for their special friend Snape.

The rivalry between Snape and the Marauders was as inevitable as the migrating pattern of the African swallow. It wasn't just that Snape was Slytherin and the Marauders were Gryffindors. It wasn't simply that Snape had rather dark interests and the Marauders were all goodness and light. It wasn't even that the Marauders were the social butterflies of the third year and beyond while Snape was socially anemic (the author is so pleased with herself over this phrase she is now taking a cookie break). It was just... that they were Snape and the Marauders.

The boys debated for a long time the pros and cons of turning Snape into: a turkey, a warty frog, a red and gold snake, and a chocolate cream pie. The boys ignored the final suggestion, because it was from Peter and he was hungry. Finally, for some odd and unknown-except-to-the-author reason, they decided to turn him into a large sock.

"Can we do sock puppets?" Peter asked eagerly.

"Yes, of course," James said sarcastically. "Because it won't matter that you'll be putting your hand inside Snape." Peter turned a delightful shade of green.

Snape made a lovely sock. He was dark green, of course, with a black and silver argyle pattern. The Snape sock lay draped over Snape's chair in potions. The best part, of course, that he was a musical sock.

"Rudolph the Red-nosed reindeer, reindeer, had a very shiny nose. Like a lightbulb!" Sirius sang along with the socks.

"You know," Remus said, pensively. "I didn't expect him to smell so bad."

"If I were a sock," Peter put in, "I wouldn't smell."

The other boys rolled their eyes, except Sirius who added, "And if I were a sock, I'd be wool." At their looks, he said, "Well, half his problem is that he's a bleeding poly-blend!"

Remus gave a sort of twitch, that had more to do with the time of the month than with Sirius's brilliant sock observations.

"Alright," Sirius snapped, causing James and Peter to jump. "What's wrong with you? You've been all weird for a while now. I demand you unweirdify and tell us what's going on."

Remus was startled and opened his mouth to speak when Lily leaned over from her table. "You three are NOT this stupid." She looked at Peter and said, "You TWO are not this stupid." (The author realizes that she has compensated for Peter not being evil by him being stupid and feels bad... sort of... not at all).

Remus looked even more surprised, while James was confused and Sirius was angry. "We're your best friends, and this... girl knows before we do."

"You say girl like it's an insult," Lily smirked. "Can I tell them, Remus? Please?"

"I'mawerewolfanditsafullmoon," he rushed out all in one low breath. He looked at them tentatively.

Peter was picking his nose. James had a completely perplexed look on his face. Sirius looked... relieved?

"Is that all? You should have told us. How are you feeling?"

Remus gave a half-hearted sort of shrug. "Fine, I guess. Madam Underweather keeps feeding me chocolate. I'm not even sure if it's helping..."

Lily, who had been quite obviously eavesdropping, groaned. "Chocolate!? Not again..." At their perplexed looks, she laughed self-consciously. "Come on! Isn't chocolate like the secret cure all around here? Every time I walk past the infirmary, I gain 5 lbs. Oh! Honestly... boys!"

So, the Marauders were happy again, for the most part. And Lily pretty much wanted nothing to do with them, at least for the next 3 years. And Snape...

"Ugh, can we move him?" Remus groaned. "He really stinks."

CASS! YOU ARE A GENIUS!

lol! cass that is so funny! goody gosh i've fallen off my chair...hehe!