Harry Potter The Case of the Weasles

**I do not own Harry Potter. It's the property of JK Rowling. Also, please don't be offended by any jokes or whatever. They are meant for comedy purposes only. **

The Case of the Weasles

Harry was just coming back from his horrid potions class, taught by his least favorite person in the world: Snape. Just as it had been for the past three years, Snape tried his hardest to make Harry's life as miserable as possible. Now at the tender age of fourteen, Harry was starting to feel the angst of a teenager. He found himself shying away from Hermione whenever she touched him, although he had no idea why.

He made his way through the heavy throng of people cluttering the corridor. Collin Creevey, an admirer of his, was trying to get yet another picture of him. _This kid is almost as bad as Draco_, Harry thought bitterly. Harry honestly tried to be as nice to people as often as he could, but it was getting harder every day.

Finally reaching the lavatory, Harry closed the door with a relief and went to go do his business. To his horror, he saw the nightmare of his life. Snape was standing near the urinals. And he did not look happy. Which, Harry thought, was no different. But, somehow, Snape's frown had an especially sinister look to it.

"Well, well, Potter," Snape said in his drawling, condescending way. "It looks like you've got time to go to the bathroom, yet you don't seem to have the time to study properly. No wonder you're doing so terribly in my class."

_Yes, well, I'm so terribly sorry that I have the human urge to take a leak, _Harry thought. _Trust me, professor, if I could piss in your potions, I'd be more than happy to_. "Sir, I'm always failing your class," he replied instead, with an edge to his voice.

"Well, it's good to hear you admit to yourself that you're an ignoramus. But I don't quite recall you ogling at Miss Granger with your mouth hanging open before. Although it is pleasant to see dribbles of drool hanging down your mouth," Snape said with a smirk.

Harry was so dumbfounded; he didn't know what to say. Snape, with the smirk still on his face, continued mercilessly: "Oh, don't think I don't understand what you're going through, Potter. Believe it or not, I was a teenager at one point in my life. And like all teenagers, I had _urges._ Of course, it's probably not surprising that many girls felt the same to me. I was, as you might say, a bit of a womanizer. My masculine superiority and great mind had women flocking to me like shoppers to Walmart on Black Friday."

_Yeah, by putting love potions in their drinks, you slimy git. _

"Anyway, I want to give you some advice, Potter. I normally wouldn't do so, but today I'm feeling unusually generous. When you get the _urges_ toward women, as you have with Miss Granger, you should know it's completely normal. And you should know you fall into a certain category of boys."

"Category of boys, sir?" Harry asked, puzzled.

"Yes, there are three types of boys," Snape continued. "The cool, confident kind, who can pick up chicks like magnets. You know, the kind that has the sweeping, flyaway hair, and that attitude of 'I'm a badass and I know it.' I was in that group, of course. Not surprising, right?"

_It's about as surprising as Ron growing a six pack, actually. And you're about as close to having sweeping, flyaway hair as Hermione is to dating Malfoy, you greasy mophead._

"Anyhow, that's group one. Then there's group two. This group comprises of the silent, nerdy type. They like books and are always reading them. But they have a certain _nerd _appeal that some girls go for. Of course, there's nothing wrong with being intelligent. Many women find the silent, contemplating type sexy. And who knows, they may just have a wild beast in them, waiting to come out during sex.

"And as for the last group. This group I like to call the socially impotent. They try desperately to acquaint themselves with the female species, yet are horribly terrible at it. Whenever they try to, they make a blundering fool of themselves. No one, not even the nerd population, can back them up, because these people are hopeless imbeciles. You and Mr. Weasley belong in this group."

"Um . . . thanks for the support, Professor. That _really _boosted my self esteem."

"Don't mention it, Henry." Harry was just turning around to make his way out of the lavatory, when Snape called out, "And don't worry about having the Weasles! It's perfectly normal in boys in your group. You may have sudden burning sensations in your groin, but don't worry, it's not _urine cancer. _Oh, and next time you see Miss Granger, you might want to wear something a little sexier. I recommend some Hollister. Oh, and a green fedora would do _wonders _to show off your eyes! Do that, and you're _sure _to have her falling on her knees!"

_I feel like I just had a conversation with a Snape that took an acid trip through SpongeBob. I think he's reached, if not surpassed, the gayness level of Richard Simmons. _

With a shudder, Harry exited the lavatory. He was just getting ready to go to the library when in front of him appeared Hermione. It was Hermione, but a very strange one. She was wearing a mini skirt, and had thigh high leggings. Her tie was hanging loose, and she was wearing mascara and eye liner. But most shocking of all, her boobs were clearly visible, as she unbuttoned her collar to the bottom.

_Oh shit. That is _definitely _not urine cancer._


End file.

Harry Potter, Humor, Parody