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. :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.

Post more soon! this is great

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

Chaz rides in on her white horse... "I speak sockish!"
All socks pummel her.

Great story!
"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.

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

lol!thats super funny! 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!

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.