*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!!! I haven't laughed that much in ages! Totally awesome, Cass!

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!!! 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!"

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

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!!!!!! no don't finish....