Harry Potter 1. Shut The Fuck Up, Hedwig

**CHAPTER 1: SHUT THE FUCK UP, HEDWIG**

Harry scuffed his feet against the carpet, looking through an arched doorway to make eye contact with Uncle Vernon. He knew it'd probably cause him more grief than good, usually with his head against a wall, but it was a risk he was willing to take. Seeing the mad bull in the kitchen, icing across his upper lip, he jet through the door beneath the staircase and entered the small room which he begrudgingly called his bedroom.

He locked the door behind him for good measure, and looked at his surroundings. There was a beanbag chair and coffee table, to the left, pushed against a wall, was a mini fridge stocked full of hot pockets and a microwave next to it. To his right was his brass bed. The tacky wallpaper was decorated with framed pictures of a dead Dudley and the one picture that Draco sketched for him, it was something he enjoyed laughing at.

Harry went towards his bed, pulling his trunk out from beneath it while listening to Hedwig screech in background.

"Shut up...HEDWIG!"

He fished through his few and far between clothing items and pulled out a silky red shirt for the love of Gryffindor, and some dark blue straight leg jeans with a single rip on one knee. It was the day before they had to return to Hogwarts and Hermione and Ron agreed to meet him at a wizard club, which was way more awesome than muggle clubs.

They were badass because they had wizard weed which was laced with unicorn tears and the blood of deatheaters. It was considered to be the pot of champions. Hermione enjoyed calling the Cannabis Hellatious because that was it's scientific name.

He slowly stripped naked in front of Hedwig who made soft chirping noises. Harry felt awkward about the entire thing but with a house full of fat Nazi's and one skinny crack whore, where else could he possibly change? Answer that for him.

Dressed and ready to go, Harry re-opened the door assuming Uncle Vernon would've become distracted by his bakery items again, but was proven wrong. There in front of him, with beady eyes the size of marbles, was the fat fuck himself in a polo ten times too small and the collar popped up, ironed by Aunt Petunia herself who said it was slimming. Which in all honesty, Harry did think it concealed a good deal of his fat rolls on his neck, however, he still looked like he rode with Doc Brown and Marty McFly from the eighties to present day.

In short, looking exceptionally dumb and outdated and ridiculous.

Harry eyed the collar, with one single chocolate stain on the pointed tip like it had been up someone's ass, and then pursued eye contact with a strained smile.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon?"

"You were scuffing your feet on _my _carpet, Boy."

"I need a doormat."

"You getting smart with me? It's that new school you're at! That's it! You're not returning their this year."

"You say that every year. Never has stopped me once."

Uncle Vernon raised his fist in rage, took his other hand and grabbed his hair. He smashed his skull against the doorway, using the other hand to club him in the ear.

There was a piglet-like squeal in the background and Harry opened his eyes in between beatings to see Dudley watching with amazement.

"Give him an uppercut! To the left!" Dudley jumped up and down, causing large vibrations.

Harry had a theory that Dudley was the cause of Pangaea separating into the continents.

"I'll give you a pigtail! I swear it!" Harry yelled helplessly, blood beginning to seep out of his ear.

Harry escaped Vernon's grasp, Vernon's fist then landing against the doorway. He let out a howl and brief curse, "Fook!"

Petunia looked over the railing to get an aerial view, "Your blood pressure, Vernon!"

"Blasted woman..." Vernon whispered, "Can't you see I'm dealing with THE BOY."

"I see it. I see it everyday."

That attitude, Harry thought, what a bitch.

Dudley watched with piggish eyes which were placed on a piggish face with generally piggish features.

"I'm going clubbing and you can't stop me!" Harry yelled, "I'll send for my things!"

"Like hell you are!" Vernon screamed, barreling after him like a bullet out of a gun, except in slow-mo.

Harry snorted and opened the front door, sliding out and running down the street, soon enough, that double decker bus that no muggle seems to see, came whipping down the corner.

"Oi, 'der Boy! Need a lift?"

"No, I'll _run _my ass Hogsmeade. You think? You _think _I need a ride?"

"Half the attitude, or you _will _walk your ass, waste of pureblood lineage."

"Alright, calm down." Harry murmured, stepping up to the bus.

The man placed his arm across the door and gave him an even-leveled stare. He looked down his silky shirt and raised one eyebrow, slowly unbuttoning the top button of Harry's shirt.

Harry was surprised, and felt chill bumps across his arms.

After the first button was unbuttoned, the man gave a large smile placing his hands back into his pockets, "There you are! Nice and fresh looking for the club."

"How'd you know about-"

"I hear everything. The Electric Cauldron is having their biggest party of the summer tonight, you'd have to be crazy not to go."

"Are you going?"

"When you get older, you gotta work, Kid. Life is for shit. Sometimes..." He trailed off, "Nevermind."

Harry looked at him like _'what the fuck' _and got into the bus, "Alright."

He took a seat on one of the beds because apparently there's no seats. Just beds. Harry had theories about why, but decided to ever speak these aloud. He took an apprehensive seat on some stiff crusted sheets that smelled like old hooker and put his hands in his lap meekly.

"Are you ready?" Said the shrunken head from the rearview mirror.

"Uh-..."

The bus was in hot pursuit of clubbing and young rebellious freedom, and soon got to the Electric Cauldron, parallel parking right outside next to a group of more Hogwarts students.

Cho Chang was standing in the middle of one group, with a short black dress and stiletto heels.

Harry imagined all that gone and shook his head, remembering good things like the wizard bible and looked around nervously. Hopefully no one would do that freaky spell where they sucked memories out, 'cause then them pedophiles would be seeing a naked Cho Chang.

Ron and Hermione were standing beneath a streetlight, looking at someone else across the way.

Harry exited the bus with some chuckles coming from fellow students at his ride. Harry felt dumb and kicked his foot against the sidewalk with hands in pockets, "Well...I live in the muggle world. So...how else am I supposed to get here...?"

"Maybe you shouldn't of come at all?" Said Goyle then looked around kinda scared.

Harry looked around too but only darkness.

Other Slytheri laughed in harmony like a choir.

Harry walked away with his head up high, with the thoughts, at least I'm a Gryffindor.

Ron and Hermione began to wave their arms enthusiastically to get his attention.

"I see you!" Harry yelled with a large smile, waving back.

Ron was wearing a hand-me-down leather jacket with spikes, a brief memory of Uncle Vernon's popped collar flashed through his mind like the painful scar on his forehead but then pushed that thought back down to the hell where it came from.

He understood Ron's position.

He had distressed jeans on, which were in fashion, so he was in luck.

Hermione had an outfit on that reminded Harry of the naughty schoolteachers in Playboy, he then again flashed back to the wizard bible before imagining it burning. Hermione and Cho Chang were so much better.

With these thoughts in mind, he was ready for Cannabis Hellacious.

"So are the only jerks here, Slytheri?"

Ron looked up with an ashamed face, "No...there's cute girls. None of them will be interested with _this _on, you look great, Harry. This smells like my dad."

Hermione scrunched her face up like a crumpled paper, "It's not about the outfit, Ron, it's about your attitude! Be positive."

"No."

Harry, attempting to be somewhat optimistic shrugged his shoulders with a smile, "Let's get some...uh...you know. That should do the trick, Ron."

"...No."

Hermione rolled her eyes and pulled on his arm to bring him towards the Electric Cauldron's entrance, flashing lights surrounded them. Even in strobe lights, Ron looked like a frumpy old man with his sullen face and crossed arms.

The mini bar had a lot of noise radiating from it and Harry watched with mild interest at the going-ons before deciding ultimately, he wasn't mildy interested he was _very _interested in what was going on considering everyone was over there.

He made his way towards the crowd, attempting to get the best view possible.

At the bar, attempting to push himself up higher because he was barely tall enough to reach his shots, was Draco Malfoy, slamming them back. Hardcore wizard drinks. His sleazy look was created by a half-tucked in white button-up and dress pants that Harry bet his daddy bought.

Pansy slowly mounted a bar stool beside him and clambered onto the bar, attempting to thrust shake herself to garner any attention possible. In muggle-talk, twerking.

"Oh my God, Draco you so crunk. Haha...I mean..._drunk_. Whatever. He's been here since...like...I don't even know. Before it opened. Like...five."

"Pan-...Pansyhh...Go..._away_."

Harry raised an eyebrow but shrugged and turned away, hopefully Draco would make a fool of himself so _he _could draw something and send it to him.

He returned to meet up with Hermione and Ron.

"Did you see anything interesting over there?" Hermione asked, arms folded, "You left me with sour-puss over here."

"Yeah, sorry, Draco's fucked up. Was way too hilarious."

Hermione smiled just a little and then frowned, "That doesn't change the fact that Ron won't move."

Harry looked down at Ron who was sitting on a seat that lit up like a strobe, flashing different colors every half second. Harry blinked and debated breakin' out the Tylenol.

Nah.

Ron had his arms folded in aggravation, "I could get drunk if I had the proper attire..."

"No, you couldn't. Your mom would be mad, Ron."

Harry scanned the crowd, looking for a reason for Ron to lighten up, the night would be ruined if he couldn't find something to cheer his best friend up. In the corner, something caught his eye. Neville Longbottom was standing with someone else, hands in pockets, fishing something out. Harry squinted to get a better idea of what it could be.

"Ron, you wanna see what Neville's up to?"

"Neville's here?"

"Yes."

"...No."

"Oh, come off it!" Harry yelled, wrapped his hand around his arm and pulled him off that godforsaken seat towards Neville in the opposite corner, they rushed through the sparse crowd since most were yelling _'shots, shots, shots' _near Malfoy, and made it towards Neville.

They eyed the man at close range, he had a shady appearance about him.

Neville stuttered nervously once he saw who was now in his company, "Oh...hi, Harry."

"What're you doing?" Harry asked, looking down at the exchange about to take place.

"Uhh..." Neville cleared his throat and gave a smile, "Pot?"

"Neville! No!" Harry shook his head.

"I just..I thought you'd..."

"Neville, you want to be cool. But this isn't the way."

"Well, I-"

"Pay the man and then never do this again."

"You're right, Harry."

Neville offered the money to which the man snatched it out of his hand and forcibly pushed the small pouch of cannabis hellacious into his hand before leaving out the backdoor.

Neville looked down at it like he just didn't know what to do now, Harry snatched it from him.

"You're too good for this, Neville. Go home."

Harry turned around and smiled with Ron who seemed to be slightly better now that he had drugs, tangible and real to him.

Ron dug his hands deep into the bag, feeling the genuine leather of the pouch and the genuine high of the contents inside.

Just then, they watched in utter dismay as Draco Malfoy came waltzing over from the bar, stumbling slightly, with one last shot in his hand.

"...Well if isn't...isn't _Potter_. With drugs? How cute."

He proceeded to dump his entire shot all over the expensive ass bag of pot.

"FUCKIN MALFOY." Ron yelled, "God damn it...no."

Little did the trio know, this was just a bad premonition of how the rest of the year would be. Ron depressed. Hermione left out. And Harry's winning streak only surving by a small margin.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Reviews are well-appreciated!_

_What will happen next? Will the trio get some bad addictions? Will they sneak pot into school? Will Neville get his revenge? Does he even know he's been wronged? The plot thickens next chapter._


	2. Powerballin' & The Monster He Befriended

**CHAPTER 2: Powerballin' and The Monster He Befriended**

* * *

><p><em>Powerballin': Verb. Used to describe someone under the influence of both heroin and cocaine by doing them in this respective order.<em>

* * *

><p>Fuckin' Malfoy was sitting in his closet upon a royal-ass throne with a mild hangover, just kidding, a major, a-list, motherfucking hangover. He thought that speedballs would help with the hangover but was proven wrong. So, so wrong.<p>

He laid nekkid, on his royal throne that a couple house elves had moved into his closet. They attempted dressing him into anything, but he continuously combated them with the use of toe nails.

"HARRY STOP!" Draco screamed at the ugliest house elf of all, and the newest edition.

His real name had been Francis, however, Malfoy insisted he change it's name to Harry, for unknown reasons. Whatever the reason may be, his pedophile father thought it fantastic and even quoted a section from the wizard bible to prove his happiness.

'Thou son will noth betray thee, or he shall be damned.'

Malfoy thought about that comment momentarily, then remembered that in this conversation, his father had also brought up something about getting the dark mark and becoming a death eater in his footsteps.

"Oh..."

He then put two and two together, as well as he possibly could, and realized that comment had nothing to do with re-naming his fugly house elf.

"Did you need something, sire?"

Harry/Francis asked feebly, "Maybe some more heroin? Or cocaine? Perhaps a combination. You surely like your snowballs."

"SPEEDBALL! FUCKER! You insignificant waste of space and house elf flesh...Go get my owl."

"The family owl? Or your owl?"

"If you ask me one more question, I will mount your head next to your mothers on my father's wall." Draco said, deathly quiet as he begun to seize and foam at the mouth, "My father will hear of this."

"Your father is right here, sir."

Draco's father entered the closet and raised his eyebrows at the state of his nekkid son. His hair swished around him like a hair dye commercial, flowing onto his shoulders majestically. He batted his eyelashes and saucily moved his shoulders about.

"You realize you should've been at the station by now? NO MALE MALFOYS WILL BE A DISGRACE! IF YOU WERE A DAUGHTER IT WOULD BE OKAY!"

"WHAT?"

"You...heard...me."

"WTF, PAPA?"

"For the love of Lord Voldemort, get your pale, shiny, behind dressed."

"...Don't watch."

"Oh, you know I'm going to. Make sure you put on that turtle neck I love...ooooh yeah…No, no, put on your school uniform...Mmmmm….yes, you're a naughty school boy aren't you?""

"Yes, Father...Yes…"

Lucius proceeded to 'make it rain' for his only son, then looked to the other house elves.

"MAKE IT RAIN FOR HIM!"

The others quickly looked around for anything to throw at the Malfoy heir because they were as penniless as a Weasley.

Lucius threw them some pocket change.

"For Merlin's sake, at least make it hail. What do I hire you for?"

* * *

><p>Harry was slightly fucked up from the night before, but was good and ready for that long train ride to Hogwarts because he could order candy off that cart and embarrass the fuck out of Ron because Ron is poor. Then, as if it's just not enough, he could offer Ron half his candy because Ron looked like he could use some food.<p>

Ron would blush but accept because he was starving.

Hermione liked Harry showing dominance, but liked Ron's subservience even more.

Anyway.

Snape was right up on their asses, Harry could smell potions and turned around to confront the bastard.

"Snap? I mean-...Snape? Sir? Do you need...something?"

"I need dat ass." Snape whispered in Harry's ear as he bent down slowly, he suddenly lifted himself and to Harry's fearful look, responded, "No, Mr. Potter. I need nothing from you."

"Uh...I'm confused."

"In other words, Mr. Potter. You're not as great as you think."

Harry just decided to give up because nothing even seemed mildly related anymore, and turned back around. He flinched slightly when he felt something brush his ass, but tensed only for a moment.

Hermione gave him a strange look but was instantly distracted when she saw the train pulling up to the platform, "SCHOOL! Oh, honestly you two, I can't understand how you're not excited! It's going to be our sixth year!"

"Mm..no." Ron murmured, still in his leather jacket from the previous night. Dat bad luck jacket.

"COME OFF IT." Harry whispered sharply through gritted teeth.

Ron gave a fearful look and then Harry begun to speak in tongues, in parsaltongue, but in tongues.

"Stop that, Harry. You're scaring me." Ron whimpered.

Hermione again loved the subservience.

Anyway.

They begun to load onto the train and put their trunks of shit above the compartment they were about to enter alone, because no one else was allowed to sit with the golden trio.

Golden fucking trio.

Snape watched through the small window of the door, making brief eye contact with Potter before running off down the aisle. Tears left a trail.

Harry looked to the other two in the car and got up, just to make sure Snape had truly left. Upon sliding the door open, a sudden noise filled his ears. Snape was definitely gone, having left to go to another car and stank up the place with his potion-shit stench, so the noise couldn't of been him.

It was a nasally whine, Harry's brow furrowed in confusion. Turning around to the source of the noise, realizing suddenly it was indeed behind him, he came face to face with Draco Malfoy.

Blood dripping from his nose and white powder left on his upper lip.

"Fuck you looking at, Potter?"

"...Is that...powdered sugar?"

"No...git outta my way….POTTER."

"Uhh...Okay."

He reeled his head back into the car, and Draco, although the train was not even in motion yet, stumbled back and forth from wall to wall.

"Malfoy's my name….drugs is my game…" Draco mumbled beneath his breath.

Harry looked confused, more than likely because he only heard distant grumbling, the words were jumbled in a slurred rage.

"Guys? I think Malfoy's on drugs."

"No. No, he's not. Hogwarts would never allow a drug addict even on this train. If he's currently under some influence, which I doubt, he couldn't possibly have anything else with him." Hermione replied with her usual uptight confidence.

Meanwhile, Draco entered his own boxcar, took down his briefcase labeled 'DRUGS' and took out a large bag of white substance. Making two lines on top of the suitcase, he snorted the lines in quick succession.

Goyle and Crabbe looked to him with questioning and slightly fearful expressions. Malfoy, just now realizing that his henchmen were viewing this spectacle (AKA his drug habit that he picked up during the summer, since he was bored all those months with his father ignoring him and his mother crying all day trying to remain oblivious to his father's affairs. Drugs helped...drugs kept his mind on happy colors and better times...they also make him look cool.)

"Stuff it, or I'll stuff you." Draco whispered in a raspy voice..

"Ehem." Harry coughed into his hand.

"GROSS. Coughing into your hand is a sin against the wizard bible. As stated in First Merlin, Chapter 66, verse 6, 'Thou shalt not cough into thys motherfucking hand.' See?"

"You know what? Ever since I started taking theology at Hogwarts and reading this Wizard Bible, I've been noticing something."

Hermione had a pinched expression, looking at him, ready to strike in case he said something against her views.

"It's like, forever it'll be talking about good vs. evil and such deep thoughtful stuff and all of a sudden, there's something so random. Like, that you just said. I mean, what does it matter religiously, where I cough? It's like someone got pissed off and was like, 'you know what? I'm gonna write this in the wizard bible and then, if you don't do it, you'll be damned. To the hell of which Voldemort came from.' Seriously."

"MERLIN isn't a man to question." Hermione replied haughtily.

The rest of the train ride was uneventful and predictable because Harry ordered TONS of candy and practically wallowed in it, throwing some to the peasants around him, AKA Ron and Hermione.

* * *

><p>Reaching his familiar bed in his dorm, he put Hedwig onto the bed in front of him. Hedwig looked up to him with those glassy blue eyes, and begun to chirp softly. The same noise when looking at Harry's naked body, most importantly, the D.<p>

Harry teasingly stuck his finger between the metal bars and stroked his beak. Hedwig purred.

Anyway.

Things were falling into place for another year at Hogwarts, and he was just about to lay on his bed in thought about the previous years and reflect, however, something suddenly came up. There was a knock on the door and he opened it to see Ron. That freckled son of a bitch.

"Why're you knocking? Do you want more candy? I've got loads."

"You've gotta take a load? Wha-? Anyway...candy would be nice..." Ron thought suddenly if he wanted to report the serious matter or grovel for food and Cauldron Cakes, but he felt like a gluttonous fool and decided no, so he shook his head with teary eyes and looked back up at the monster he befriended. "But, no. Hermione says she has something to tell us."

Harry ran from the bedroom like a shooting star, and basically frolicked down the stairs towards the common room where Hermione stood with wide eyes.

They approached with caution but her hands told them to come quicker and closer. Whatever this was, was something serious.

"I saw Umbridge, here, at Hogwarts. You think this means something?"

"Oh no." Ron groaned, "I hated that bitch the first time around, this is impossurus."

"Impossurus? Was that supposed to be funny?"

"...No." Ron felt ashamed but more than anything, angry at the monster he befriended.

"Well, anyway, Hermione. As long as she's not in charge, what can she possibly do?"

"...I don't know, Harry..."

Harry, seeing Hermione with that sexy scared look on her face, was instantly reminded of Cho Chang and the night she was dressed in that sexy clubbin' get up. He remembered the way over to Hogwarts, thinking about how manly he'd be, telling Cho Chang once and for all, his true feelings for her and that she was his bitch.

"I've gotta find Cho Chang."

"Well...fine. But don't be late to dinner tonight. I heard we're having roast duck." Ron said, his mouth watering.

"Did you want more candy, Ron?"

"No! I'm bloody fine, thanks."

Harry raised an eyebrow and left the room without another word.

* * *

><p>As soon as Draco entered his dorm, he shoved the other boys out of the room, locked the door, and fished out a dirty syringe. Used by himself only, and once stabbed into a house elf to amuse himself one weekend. The drugs effect on their tiny inferior bodies was both humiliating and humorous. The two H's. His favorite H's.<p>

The third favorite H would never be spoken. He who shall not be named.

HARRY.

ANYWAY.

Draco stabbed the syringe, unclean and delicious, into a phial of heroin and used his tourniquet to cut off the blood flow and allow the vein to stick to the surface of his skin, he stabbed the syringe into the vein and plunged as hard as he could laughing the entire time.

He fell over onto his bed like Gumby and brought himself up, unlocking the door, syringe still in hand and tourniquet still around his arm. He opened the door with a what up bitches look on his face and they looked down at the syringe and were like, well, why'd you lock it? Or shove us out? This makes no sense.

Draco left the room, cause he don't care, and made his way down the halls, ready to shank anyone.

Suddenly, to his right, a noise entered his eardrums violently, looking towards the source after countless seconds trying to process where he was, he looked to see a door leading to, more than likely, a broom closet.

Noises erupted, moans and cries of "Yes! Yes! Yes!"

Draco opened the closet with a loopy doped-up sort of smile. As he opened it, to reveal the source of the noise, his smile melted away into a look of horror and disgust. All of sudden, his drug riddled brain lighted up like Time Square on New Year's Eve. Sober immediately, he was faced with something that would scar him forever.

A man with a popped up eighties color, ironed to stiff perfection and a brown stain on the tip, was copulating with a woman with a kitty shirt and pink high heels.

Umbridge and….and who was he? Fat beady eyes and plump rosy cheeks, thinning hair on top of his tiny head. But not for the life of him, could Draco place a name to the fat fuck before him. However, that was most definitely Umbridge.

Draco turned away, because they looked to him….and still went at it. They watched and smiled at him….but didn't stop. Draco ran, puking into the nearest waste bin.

His high was gone and all he had to remember from it was a deep itching in the newest injection site.

"Fucking hell…"

* * *

><p>Dinner, as Ron had specified was indeed roast duck, that greedy little Weasley. All the houses were sitting at their respective tables, watching with deep methodical interest at who was to become what.<p>

"Hufflepuff!" The sorting hat yelled with a victoriously barbaric scream.

"Fucking pansy!" Draco yelled at his table.

"Don't talk to me like that, Draco!"

"No, Pansy. I was talking about that piece of shit Hufflepuff. And your name isn't Pansy. It's Slut. If I were talking to you, I would've said, fucking Slut. Know your place, dick garage."

Pansy fell into silence, after a moment, she replied, "You weren't so mean before...what's changed?"

"LIFE. Slut. Life."

Anyway.

The Sorting Hat suddenly called out, for the first time that night, "MMMMMMMMMMMMGRYFFINDOR!"

"Yay." Harry murmured, "Another wannabe that wants my autograph."

As cheers erupted from the table, the eleven year old boy passed by Harry with indifferent interest.

Harry stopped him with one hand.

"Alright. Who's it going to be made out to?"

"Wh-What?"

"My autograph. Who do you want it made out to?"

"Uh...I don't understand, sir."

"Sir? You can just call me Harry. I'm just another Gryffindor. Just like you."

"I'm sorry?"

"I'm...Harry...Harry Potter?"

"Uh...sorry, am I supposed to know you?"

"Wha-...?"

The kid continued, giving a strange look towards the elder boy, but found a seat towards the end of the table.

"SSSSSSSSSLYTHERIN!" The Sorting Hat declared in Harry's shock. This, however, broke his shock and he gave a disgusted look at the boy who looked horrified.

"My dad'll beat me for this for sure…" He whispered meekly looking at the table full of Slytherins.

"YES! YES, THANK THE MERLIN OF LORD." Draco yelled, "Oooooh...yes….."

Pansy gave him a strange look, "Draco...are you okay?"

"I'm alive, Slut. Finally, alive."

In truth, Draco had gone back to his dorm sometime before dinner, to be exact, three minutes before dinner, and took another hot dose of heroin and a bump of cocaine, so he was currently powerballin' and that was really the only excuse for said distasteful behavior.

"Are you...high? Draco, one night at the club was fine but...this isn't a habit now, is it?"

It had been a habit all summer.

"Shut your whoring mouth, Slut."

Anyway.

Everyone begun to gorge and feast on roast duck and all the other high caloric carb-delicious foods. Dumbledore ate his light salad and balsamic vinegar with diet beer.

Yes, this year at Hogwarts was coming to it's beginning. What awaited them here? With Harry, the showboating hero. Hermione, the know-it-all pompous prude. Ron, the poor sidekick of a monster (that he befriended). Draco, the amateur drug addict. Pansy, the undignified slut. And not to forget, Snape, the creepy bastard.

Adventure waited just around the corner.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks everyone who bothers to read this stupid shit. This has been brought to you by two friends who have nothing better to do. (That is, Grace and Rebecca hence Grabeccer) ANYWAY. Review if you love us. Review if you hate us. Review if you wish we lived a life of nothing but mediocre shit.**


	3. Mexican Draco

**CHAPTER 3: MEXICAN DRACO**

* * *

><p>Professor Lupin stoodbefore his crowd of minions- ehem. Students. And eyed them like candy in Honeyduke's front window, almost salivating over their precious milk-complexion skin faces.<p>

Anyway.

Lupin drummed his fingers against a large wardrobe which looked oddly familiar to the golden fuckin' trio who sat in the front row; prized God damn students.

"Alright, class-"

"Oh! Oh, Professor Lupin?"

Lupin paused and slowly turned his head towards the origin of the shrill disturbance. To his right, in the Slytherin section, a girl was raising her hand in Hermione Granger fashion. Jumping up and down, almost unable to contain her question from exploding out from her mouth in vomit projectile.

He sighed, "Yes..?"

"Well, I heard you weren't supposed to be teaching here anymore considering you're a were-"

"NO! I AM CURED."

"But-? I thought there wasn't a cure?"

"MOVING ON…So, everyone line up here. Right in front of this mysterious dresser so I can explain how particularly dangerous our lesson will be for today."

Confused and slightly disturbed, the students inched their way up to the front of the class before the dark wooden wardrobe, looking at it with a sense of de ja vu.

"So glad to have you back, Professor." Harry whispered as he went into the front of the line like the prophet of his people.

No complaints were made.

"So glad to have a view of dat ass again…I MEAN...nice to see you again too, Harry. I missed looking into your mother's eyes...I MEAN...your eyes...I MEAN...fuckin' forget it. ALRIGHTY BUCKAROOS, whose ready to face their worst fears?"

"Wait a second...is this...Professor, haven't we already done this before?" Hermione asked, "Is this a lesson on Boggarts?"

"This better not be like last time. With the miserable failure Potter is, he might actually die this time around." Draco said snarkily, since he was half sober, he could make a somewhat intelligent remark...somehow.

"NO IT'S NOT...Well, yes it is. However, it's new! It's...revised."

Nervously, Lupin began to pull at his shorty-short track shorts, pulling them further up into his junk. Hermione's lip snarled up and turned green at the sight. Neville smiled pleasantly.

"Oh...good. I don't have to come up then, do I?" Neville asked.

"Oh yes, especially you Neville. You're last failure with the bogart was the only source of hilarity we got all day in this room between Harry's disturbing dementor creature and Draco's naked father making it rain. Oooh...the nightmares…" Lupin paused, "Anyway."

"But, Professor, how will today's lesson be any different?" Hermione continued to needle an answer from her professor, maybe she liked the idea of being more qualified than her own teacher, or maybe she just liked S&M.

Unrelated.

"Look, Kid. This is all I know. I don't know jackshit about dark arts, I got this fuckin' job in a listing. They really don't want that wackjob Snape teaching this class, so I'm stuck here. So today, we're doing these incredibly embarrassing boggarts again and you'll eat my shit before you complain." He pulled a pill bottle from the waist band of his track shorts, popping the lid off and slamming three pills to the back of his throat, dry swallowing, Draco watched hungrily, "SO. Whose first?"

"Me, sir. I wiggled my way to the front fair and square." Harry replied proudly.

It was true. Without any respect for other human beings, he had cut to the very front like the fuckin' winner he was.

Winner. Winner. Chicken. Fuckin'. Dinner.

Dickhead.

ANYWAY.

Harry stepped up to the bat, because he thought he was varsity league, and was ready to face that fugly ass dementor when suddenly, the boggart lept from the dark wooden casing to reveal….

Cho Chang...as a nun…

Harry screamed in hot burning agony, white light burned through his skull.

"FOOK! MY SCAR HURTS!"

"NO! Harry! Remember to yell ridiculous!"

"AHHHH! MY SCAR!"

"Harry, my child! Nooo! Cast your spell! Ridiculous! Ridiculous!"

"This class is ridiculous." Draco said with a low snicker.

Crabbe and Goyle wheezed with diabetic laughter.

Draco's smile fell.

"I need my heroin right about now…CRABBE! FETCH MY BRIEFCASE!"

"Uhh...which one?"

"The one with my speedballs."

"What're those?"

"FUCK CRABBE! It's my only fuckin' briefcase!"

"Oh. That one."

"Yes...Yes, Crabbe, you special boy, that one. While you're in there get me some Tylenol as well, you've given me a headache."

"...Okay."

He went toddling off like some bizarre freakshow out the door without Lupin taking notice, even if he had, he would've paid him off in drugs. Lupin's choice of drug probably would've been Xanax and Draco knew his father had a huge stash of that somewhere…

"RIDICULOUS!" Harry screamed finally through sobbing tears of death.

Suddenly, Cho Chang transformed into a sexy Asian swim suit model and Harry had a nice long laugh. Ron patted his shoulder.

"Good job Harry! We knew you could do it!" Ron yelled in victory.

Despite how damn stupid that ordeal was, the Gryffindor's screamed with heroic uproar, saluting their appointed leader.

Harry shook like a little frozen leaf in a winter's wind- just kidding. He trembled like a little bitch, high fiving the people down the line as he went with a courageous smile as if he'd done something right…

Jesus.

Hermione went, her worst fear was her, late for an exam.

Ron went after, his worst fear sleeping with his sister out of desperation.

Then it was Neville. Little Neville at the front of the line now, a hopeful smile on his face with rosy cheeks.

He waited with baited breath as the chamber of hell was opened, and from it sprung the horrid boggart.

There in front of him was a foul mouthed creature, a four headed dog snapping it's yellowed teeth in his direction. Taking steps closer and closer. It suddenly gave a twisted smile.

"Today you die, bitch."

"Oh! Ah! Oh goodness...goodness…"

"C'mon, Longbottom. Jesus." Remus shook his head in disapproval, "I mean...really?"

"Ehh...uhh...Ohhh…"

"The. Spell. Longbottom. Say Ridiculous for Christ's sake."

"R-R-"

The Gryffindor's boo'd him from behind, "YOU SUCK BOTTOM SUCKER!"

Neville felt hot tears come to the corners of his eyes, like glass beads about to fall down his cheeks. He was about to cry like a man-pussy.

"Ri-...Ridiculous!"

The four headed dog suddenly turned larger, scarier, harrier!

"Oh my fucking Merlin, Longbottom." Lupin murmured.

General shouts of unpleasantries were shouted at Neville from the line.

"...he's just a failure." Remus murmured in the mix of it all, stepping before Neville.

"Ridiculous!" Remus shouted and the dog became a small four-headed poodle in Paris Hilton's arms. "There."

Shoving that bitch back in the closet where her face couldn't see the light of day, Remus looked to the next one in the line. As Seamus stepped up to the front, Crabbe came toddling back again, a briefcase in hand.

Large monogram-like letters labeled the front DRUGS.

"FINALLY." Draco yelled, arms outstretched, "Give it here."

Crabbe ran a little faster, almost tripping over his freakishly small feet somehow.

"Oh dear God...how do those support you?" Draco asked quietly, looking down at the leather shoes, "...Have your feet always been that small? I demand you change them."

"I...I can't."

"Then get them out of my sight."

"Okay."

Crabbe went to stand behind him.

"Like Mr. Potatohead feet…" Draco whispered, opening his briefcase. "Outright embarassing.."

"You smell like mexican food." Crabbe whispered from behind him, licking his lips and smiling dumbly.

"UHHHH…" Malfoy turned around to look him square in the face, "...GET….AWAY…"

"Crabbe. Crabbe, come over here, buddy." Goyle murmured, tugging on his arms.

"I like nachos."

"I know. I know.." Goyle said quietly.

Draco opened his briefcase and deciding that heroin would just be too difficult at the moment, he decided to go for a small bump of cocaine. Which consisted of about three lines.

He snorted them quickly using a hundred dollar bill (muggle money because he was badass).

"MR. MALFOY!"

Draco looked up quickly, white powder coating the nostrils of his nose.

"Professor?"

"WHAT are you doing?"

"...nothing?"

"Oh. ALRIGHT then come along!"

Draco, not realizing he was now next, stepped up to the challenge like a true man. He threw his briefcase towards Crabbe, Goyle caught it.

He put his hands on his hips, ready to face his boggart. He was slightly nervous, considering last time it had been his naked father making it rain. He said ridiculous quick enough for it not to advance. Otherwise the class would've also seen him naked. Money all around him…crying...

ANYWAY.

Draco, with faltering confidence watched as the boggart took form before himself. It was…

No.

NO!

So terrible! So disgusting!

WORSE THAN THIRD YEAR!

It was Umbridge and that man doing it in the closet! Pink kitty shirt and dainty high heels pressed against a wall as the man with the popped eighties collar stood between her legs, the familiar shit stain there as well.

"Oh, Yes. Yes! YES!"

"No. No! NO!" Draco murmured to himself, shaking.

"UNCLE VERNON?" Harry yelled.

"What's Uncle Vernon Malfoy's worst fear for?" Ron asked incredulously.

"And Umbridge! That's Umbridge and your uncle, Harry!" Hermione screamed with a shocked expression glowing on her face.

"They're shagging, Harry!" Ron screamed.

"Your uncle?" Draco asked woozily, "Tha-'s….yer…"

Draco produced his wand slowly, "Ri...Oh God, I'll be sick…" Malfoy whined, "Ahh...ahh..RIDICULOUS."

Suddenly, Umbridge was gone and on the receiving end of Uncle Vernon's adultery was Harry.

"OH BLOODY HELL, NO, MALFOY!" Harry screamed.

"WORSE! WORSE!" Malfoy screamed, running from the room.

He came back only for his briefcase.

Then ran again, removing a syringe as he went out the door.

* * *

><p>Ron stared at Harry with a fearful gaze, he swallowed before folding the Daily Prophet back into his lap. Harry looked into his eyes with an intense gaze, his thick caterpillar eyebrows hovering heavily over serious blue eyes.<p>

"Well Ron…?" He whispered with menace in his voice.

"Uh..Uh...I'm sorry Harry...there's just...nothing having to do with you in today's Daily Prophet…"

"NO! FUCKING NO! FUCK FUCK FUCK! I'VE REACHED THE GODDAMN BOTTOM LIKE YOU, RON!"

"I- Wait a second…"

"No, I didn't mean-...Well, yes I did. Anyway. AM I JUST SOME FORGOTTEN ARTIFACT? They can't do this, Ron. Not to me! Not to HARRY FUCKIN' POTTER!"

"...Harry? You're scaring me."

Harry begun to once again, speak in tongues. Strange and obscene tongues. His eyes rolled to the back of his head in some horror spectacle that was a look-alike from the muggle's Exorcist movie.

"I CAN'T UNDERSTAND YOU WHEN YOU DO THAT, HARRY!"

Harry returned back to normal, and glared at him quietly.

"THEN LISTEN TO ME, RON."

"OKAY, HARRY!" Harry launched himself from his chair, moving across the room quickly to grasp a hold on Ron's sweater vest. Ron breathed rapidly in fear, swallowing and closing his eyes to attempt in assuaging his violent emotions.

"P-Please, Harry…"

"I. Need. To. Be. FRONT AND CENTER."

"So...what're you going to do?"

Harry let go, stepping back cautiously and giving Ron a strange look. He settled back into the over stuffed chair and thought in silent repose.

"...I'm...not sure."

"If you do something stupid, that'll get you on the front page."

"Yeah...That's true."

"Or something brilliant. Either way."

"Mhmmm…hmmm…"

Ron looked to him cautiously, he knew that look on Harry's face. A look of thought and perhaps...an idea.

"Wh-What're you thinking, Harry?"

"...I've got...an idea."

"What is it?"

"Imagine a headline reading: Dark Lord's Worst Enemy Becomes Deatheater."

"I can't."

"YOU THINK I WONT MAKE FRONT PAGE NEWS, RON? YOU THINK I'M OLD AND WASHED UP LIKE BETTY WHITE? You know what you think, Ron? You think this is a sad and desperate attempt, like Hot in Cleveland."

"N-No! No, Harry, I didn't say that."

"I'M NOT BETTY WHITE, RON!"

"I don't even know who that is!"

Harry took a couple deep breaths, jaw set like marble stone and eyes glaring hot fury at the ginger.

"Okay then."

"Alright."

"...This isn't Hot in Cleveland...this is Golden Girls, Ron. This is the beginning of a legacy."

"Y-Yes, Harry. You're a...Golden Girl…?"

"Yes, Ron. LOUDER."

"Y-You're a Golden Girl, Harry."

"LOUDER!"

"YOU'RE A GOLDEN GIRL, HARRY!"

"GOOD!"

A cynical smile on his face, Harry licked his lips and stood from the seat like he was Ron's messiah, turning around on his heel and exiting the common room with a dark air about him.

The dark air...of a death eater.

* * *

><p>Harry walked into the meeting, dressed in all black for the occasion with a foundation 3x lighter than his skin tone to really flush himself out. Malfoy white was the minimum to be a death eater.<p>

Walking along marble floors of which he blended in with, like a camouflaged emo, he took his respective seat in a crimson, blood, iron, rust, DARK RED THINGS, colored chair.

He looked towards the other death eaters through black rimmed eyes. He scribbled on the eyeliner at the last moment.

To finish his evil new do, he tousled his hair with bedhead cream and a great deal of hairspray.

"Hello- I mean. Good evening…"

"Good evening, Lavish Everdarkness…"

Lavish Everdarkness was unfortunately the name Harry chose to use as a new deatheater.

As more death eaters came in, Harry looked them up and down to ensure his look was the darkest of them all. He had pressed lips and squinted eyes, checking every one of them out with a scrutinizing glare.

One in particular had large feet. He wore a black suit with a serpent tie-pin. When he got to his head, (the one on top) he recognized who it was.

Draco Malfoy.

Harry looked to him in shock.

Draco looked back at him, catching his eyes and looked at him as though he'd never seen him before.

Must've been all the foundation?

Anyway.

Draco clumsily fell into his seat beside his father whose hair was a fucking wreck and looked like he'd been run over by some kind of mile-long train. He held a glass of wine in his hand. He looked like he could use it. A pill was placed on his tongue and chugged the rest of the glass down.

Yeah...perfect…pimpin' lifestyle...

"Sorry we're so late...I was just punishing my son for some recent addictions…"

Harry continued to stare at Malfoy like some obsessed weirdo, which he might've been but is irrelevant, and Draco attempted to not look back at the eyes he knew were watching his every move. And in his drugged state of mind, the stare was more and more menacing.

Anyway.

Draco nervously twitched his hands across his pricked skin, feeling every bump across the surface where the needles had gone in from the previous weeks.

His father hadn't yelled out of concern.

His father had yelled because he was blowing his allowance too fast- because drugs weren't cheap, Draco.

Anyway.

The head hancho at the table, the all powerful King Voldemort cleared his voice. "We'll start with an icebreaker...Everyone say something about themselves….Madame Dragonfuckist, you go first…"

"Yes, My Lord. My name is Evelyn Dragonfuckist and I love Starbucks and rainy days where I can sit on my laptop and write memoirs of my life in complex poetic prose."

"It better not mention you're allegiance to me, you hipster-fuck." Voldemort said haughtily with pursed lips at her.

She pushed her large black frames up her face fearfully, brushing her thin curled hair out from her face.

"I-...I-...I can delete those chapters! I promise, I-"

"YOU CAN'T FUCKING DELETE IT! It all goes to a damn cloud anymore!" Voldemort took his wand, casting a dark spell "FUCKING-O DIE-O BITCH-O!"

She slammed back against the wall, her skull smashing like a melon, her brains splattering against the ground.

"Oh, I just had the tile scrubbed…" Lucius murmured, attempting to smooth his bedraggled hair, "HARRY!"

Harry looked up with an even-tempered look and was about to ask what the bleach-freak wanted when he saw a house elf suddenly come into the room, a timid cowardice about him.

"Y-Yes, sir?"

"EUUGH…" Voldemort yelled, clutching the arms of his seat, "I-It's REPULSIVE!"

"...Oh, yes. My son's house elf…" Lucius moaned, "Handy as he may be, he's intolerably ugly."

Lucius motioned towards the splattered brains and the spine which protruded from Madame Dragonfuckist's back. She was slumped over, head in her own crotch. What a way to die.

"I did enjoy her dragon-like tongue...Mmmm…" Voldemort moaned, "What a shame…Anyway, dearest Draco, you go ahead."

Draco stood, pushing against the table with a single shaking hand, "My name is...Draco Mallard Malfoy, I like purebloods and heroin."

"What a wonderful combination!" Voldemort said, clapping his hands, "Oh goodness, yes. I remember my own youth in the orphanage...the Mexican man out back sold me syringes by the pennies. Memories now. Just memories…Lucius? You're turn."

"My name is Lucius Burlington Malfoy….I love beating my son and wife, especially making it rain for Draco. I MEAN-...I love...you. Dark Lord. I even got you um...this! If you'll forget what I've just said." Lucius opened his wallet quickly, fumbling for the first card he could find and threw it Voldemort's way.

Voldemort caught it between two fingers with narrowed eyes, watching him carefully before looking at the card.

"An I-Hop giftcard...for thirty dollars…" He smiled, "Jokes on you, Lucius. You've given away thirty dollars of pure delicious free waffles to a man who didn't even CARE if you abused your family." Voldemort laughed wickedly.

Lucius, who was biting his nails nervously, gave a look of pure horror. "The...I gave you the I-Hop giftcard? Fucking no!"

Voldemort, settling down his laughter, looked on to the next person and frowned.

"Peter? What?...Lucius, where is Narcissa?"

"Who?"

"Your wife?"

"Oooh...Ehem. My Lord, we currently are in a silly dispute. She believes I am having an...ehem...affair"

"Oh how stupid of her. Who on Earth else would want you?"

"I have a question for Lucius!" Suddenly someone yelled that Harry had no idea was, but he looked like an insignificant little prick, so he didn't give two shits.

"WHAT is it, Rubin?" Lucius and Voldemort snapped simultaneously.

"Isn't I-Hop a muggle thing?"

It became eerily quiet around the table, Draco looked around nervously while Harry waited silently for some sort of a response out of Voldemort.

Voldemort pushed his lips together, eyes widening….

"HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU SPEAK ILL OF I-HOP!"

With that, nothing could save Rubin by this point.

"FUCKING-O DIE-O BITCH-O!"

Draco's lip quivered as he watched the man fly from his seat, hit the wall behind him and his head explode into a million shattered skull fragments.

"Clean up those brains, Harry." Lucius said to the house elf who was, with great difficulty, attempting to pull Madame Dragonfuckist out of the room, leaving a blood trail behind every inch he dragged her across the white tile.

"Oh, oh and put them on a platter with cheese." Voldemort replied with a smile, "Meat and cheese sounds just delicious at this point. Now. Peter? Would you be so kind as to move on with the ice breaker?"

"Uhh...sure, Mr. Dark Lord, sir. Name's Peter- I ain't no rich and wealthy guy but I got a lot of good ideas-"

"FUCKING-O DIE-O BITCH-O!"

Peter was dead.

"Him too, Harry." Lucius muttered.

"Lavish Everdarkness, or as we previously called him, Harry Potter." Voldemort said, "He has gone exactly one whole day without being good. Everyone give Lavish a round of applause."

"Good job, Lavish!" A few cheers came and went, Harry gave a smile.

He felt a sense of belonging.

Draco looked to him with eyes wide like his father's butthole from the long year at Azkaban he was forced to endure.

"...Potter?" He whispered.

"Oh yes, Draco. But fear not! He's one of us now. He's on the straight and narrow now."

Draco gave a look to him, something like fear, and shook his head.

Harry seemed confused but didn't give a fuck because he figured, eh. Drugged up Malfoy. What's new? And stood to present himself.

"My name's Harry Potter or Lavish Everdarkness. I've been sober- I mean….bad for a whole day now."

Cheers erupted again and Harry settled back into his seat.

Henrietta, who sat beside Harry, stood to go.

"Did I tell you to go?" Voldemort asked deathly quiet.

"N-No…"

"Then you don't fucking go." Voldemort replied, "Bitch."

Henrietta sat back down.

"Henrietta…" Voldemort started pleasantly.

"Y-Yes, M-My Lord?"

"Would you like to go now?"

"Yes, My Lord."

"Then fucking go. Stop wasting time."

Henrietta sprung up like a rocket, shaking with labored breath, "My name is Henrietta Washington, and I'm a muggle."

"WHAT IN THE FUCK!?" Voldemort yelled, "HENRIETTA! When were you planning on telling us this!?"

"Now seemed like a good time."

"Why in the hell.." Voldemort begun, giving her a true 'What in the actual FUCK' sort of expression, "...why would you stay when all we've EVER talked about at these meetings is death to muggles?"

"Same reason you talk about death to mudbloods when you're one yourself."

Voldemort's face blanked.

"Good point."

Everyone around the table nodded in agreement.

"Henrietta, you can stay for a while longer. But when you leave today, go kill yourself. I'm tired."

"Okay." Henrietta responded with a smile, sitting her fat rump back onto her chair.

"That's enough ice breakers. I'm exhausted. The meeting ends here."

"But...we didn't get anything done." Harry replied, leaning forward to snatch an oreo cookie or two off the serving platter in the middle of the table, he figured he could tease Ron with them later.

"PUT THOSE BACK." Voldemort screamed, leaning across the table with fury in his eyes. His hands were planted on both sides of the table, and was almost on top of it, "Those...are...MINE!"

"Then why'd you put them on serving platters?"

"To tease your fat face." Voldemort replied.

"But...I've already bit into one…"

"I don't give a fuck. Put it back."

"But you've got like...fifty of them!"

"No. Not one shall be eaten by you."

Harry slowly broke the cookie away from his mouth and put it back cautiously.

"As punishment, you're ignorant-ass is partnered with Draco Fatboy in a top secret mission." Voldemort drawled, "Kill Albus Dumblequeer or you're both going to be my new doormats."

With that, he left with a flourish of his robes and exited through an archway, climbing the stairs all huffy-like.

Draco and Harry shared a look.


End file.

Harry Potter, Humor, Parody