Harry Potter 1. Day One

**MYRTLE THE TYRTLE'S SEVEN DAYS OF FAIRY TALES**

**STARRING HARRY POTTER AND OTHER ASSORTED CHARACTERS  
****WRITTEN BY MYRTLE THE TYRTLE  
****CONCEPT BY MYRTLE THE TYRTLE  
****ALL RIGHTS PROPERTY OF MYRTLE THE TYRTLE  
****ALL CHARACTERS ARE **not** PROPERTY OF MYRTLE THE TYRTLE**

Once upon a time, many moons ago, it was yet another lonely, quiet day at 4 Privet Drive. The Dursleys had gone "out", leaving Harry at home on the proviso that he wouldn't touch anything. Harry, so far, had not stuck to his promise and was now in the lounge room munching on corn chips while watching _Tom and Jerry _reruns on the television at approximately 2:12 in the afternoon. It was at this point when an owl crashed into the window.

Now, you may not think this a normal thing to happen, but Harry was (in case you had missed the six books, millions of webpages and hundreds of thousands of fanfictions) a wizard, and wizards send their mail with owls, regardless of whether it is 2:12 in the afternoon or not. So, this being the case, Harry strode calmly (yet manly) over to the window, and opened it: thus letting the owl inside, thus being able to receive his letter.

"_Dear Mr. Potter_," he began to read out loud, barely following the cursive handwriting, "_We are pleased to inform you that Hogwarts will be opening as usual on September the First of this year. As a seventh-year, you may…_" the cursive handwriting broke off abruptly and was replaced with a heavy print: "**We meet again Potty. Yes, it is I, Draco the incredibly sexy Ferret Malfoy, and I have something of yours you probably wish to get back. It is (to quote an annoying house-elf I have also stolen) 'Harry Potter's girl Wheezy'. So I recommend you come to Hogwarts to get it back before I have my wicked, wicked way with her. And I bet you can't even find your way to the highest room of the tallest tower to get her back, because that's the way these things work. See ya in a week, Potty, otherwise I get the girl. Ha. Ha. Ha-ha. Ha. Yours sincerely, Draco the incredibly sexy ferret Malfoy."**

Harry cringed: it appeared the Death Eater Draco Malfoy knew about his one weakness – his insatiable love for Ginny Weasley. He was going to have to get her back; for one thing Ron would never forgive him if she died and he didn't save her. Of course, there was the other plan… go get Ron to come too… that way he can be at partial fault!

"Harry," he told himself, "you're a genius!"

"A dead sexy genius," he replied in a somewhat schizophrenic manner. "I mean, I am the knight in shining armour, the Prince Charming of this bizarre tale. So I should at least be able to squeeze in some hot chicks before I save the Princess Ginevra, doomed to a slow death in the highest room of the tallest tower unless I can get there first."

So it was with that that Harry took to the sky armed with just a broomstick and a wand, in search of the Burrow, and (hopefully) some hot chicks.

* * *

Meanwhile, Ron and Hermione (who you should surely recognise as the redhead sidekick and token smart girl – ooh, ooh, guess who's which!) were walking slowly and romantically through the woods nearby Ron's house. 

"Oh, Ron," sighed Hermione.

"Oh, Hermione," sighed Ron.

"That was the best ever!" giggled Hermione, her voice overflowing with ecstasy. "And it was so big! Can I touch it again?"

Ron looked positively thrilled. "OK." He reached down inside his robes, and pulled out a large bronze pinecone. "This is the biggest one we've ever found on our pinecone-hunting expeditions! It'll burn for hours on the fire tonight!"

They walked in silence for a few more metres before Ron's stomach gave the inevitable grumble.

"Uh... Hermione? Did you bring any food?"

Hermione sighed. This was the one reason she had kept her relationship with Ron from progressing past "Friends with Benefits" – she couldn't stand the fact that he was just so hungry all the time!

"No, Ron, I didn't. If you're so hungry why don't you just go and find something in the woods to eat."

Ron brightened. "That's a good plan!" he grinned, and raced off to do so.

In about a minute came the cry, "Hermione, can I eat a tree?"

"No, Ronald."

Then came, "Can I eat a bird?"

"Only if it doesn't have bird flu."

"No, it sneezed all over me. Yuck!"

More than a minute's silence then passed, as Ron went searching in bushes and under rocks. Until…

"Hermione, can I eat a house made of candy?"

"No, Rona… what?"

"A house made of candy! It's right over here!"

Hermione ran to see whatever Ron was pointing at. Turns out, it was actually a house made of candy.

"It really is a house!" marvelled Hermione. "It's got a door, and a chimney, and a roof, and three windows, and a hole where a redhead is… RON! Get away from that house! You don't know who lives there! It could be a really mean person who would imprison you for eating their house then fatten you up to eat YOU!"

"Thanks for putting ideas into my head, Mudblood," hissed a soft, slimy voice.

* * *

Harry flew lower, trying to find anything that would help him locate the Burrow. He was also looking for hot chicks he could put on the back of his broom and ride away with, but was trying to ignore that because he had a nagging suspicion that chasing kitchen wenches and the like would get him nowhere in life. 

"Oh, great," said Harry. "I'm lost." He landed his broom with ease and skill, and then inspected the clearing in the middle of the forest in which he had graced upon. "There appears to be two possible ways to go," he murmured quietly. "A yellow brick road which leads to somewhere I can't exactly see, or a dingy, dirt path leading to a house made of candy where a really mean person who wants to eat me could live."

He sat and thought for a moment. The _point me_ spell hadn't even occurred to him when he realised he had no idea where the yellow brick road went. This was surely something he could use in his emancipation trial one day (_Follow the yellow brick road… we're off to see the wizard… follow the yellow brick road_), but today he had to know where he was going.

"Down the dingy dirt path!" he chorused triumphantly, and set off on a mission to ask for directions.

* * *

It would probably be wise at this time in the story to point out a couple of important facts to the reader. 

1. Ron and Hermione are in the middle of a forest.

2. Harry is in the middle of a forest.

It is the same forest.

1. Ron and Hermione have found a house made of candy.

2. Harry has found a house made of candy.

It is the same house.

Therefore, we can be assured that the foreshadowing technique of the author is quite incredible, as he has allowed us to understand that Harry will soon meet up with Ron, Hermione and the owner of the soft, slimy voice without writing it down. OK, so he did write it down. What are you complaining about? Your life has been made easier!

* * *

Anyway, to get back on track with the story… Harry strode valiantly down the dingy dirt path, with his broomstick slung over his shoulder and his wand in his back pocket. So what if he loses a buttock? Surely Hermione had mastered buttock re-growing spells by now! Now, having reached the house made of candy, Harry stood back to admire the architect's skill. It was impressive, even though there was a large hole in the wall through which he could see… 

"Ron!" he exclaimed, and ran through the wall of the house, knocking down a candy cane as he hurtled towards his best friend.

"Harry! What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I just dropped in. What are _you _doing here?"

"Me? I'm just sitting around eating food all day long. It's pretty cool. I've gained twelve pounds already!" Sure enough, Harry could make out a slight bulge around his friend's waist, regardless of it being covered with food.

"Harry!" It was Hermione. "What on earth are you doing here?"

"Very well put, Miss Granger."

Harry spun around to see a towering, greasy figure standing behind him. If you hadn't guessed who it was by now, here's a clue – it's Snape.

"Snivellus!" Harry cried, overjoyed to see his former teacher. "How've you been? Haven't seen you since… you know… the whole tower thing…"

"Yes, yes, I've been hiding, you dolt. There are people out there who want to kill me. You, for example."

"Me? Why would I harm you? I've heard rumours of a HPSS fanfic floating around somewhere!"

"Codswallop. I hate you, you hate me. That's how it works. And aren't you going to ask why I've got your pathetic Mudblood and Blood Traitor friends here?"

"Sure, why not," said Harry. He thought for a moment before answering. "Uh… um… are you going to steal their pinecone and enter it in a largest pinecone contest?"

"NO! You fool! How could you not guess it!" fumed Snape. "I'm going to fatten up that ridiculous sidekick of yours so I can eat him, while the Mudblood becomes my kitchen wench and tidies up after me. I can be quite messy, you know."

"That seems like a fiendish and diabolical plan, Snape, but you won't get away with it!"

"And why not? I can repel all of your spells because I know them all because I'm a dirty bastard who likes to display his ability to read your mind like an open book. Not that you can open it and read it at whim. Well, I can, but… anyway, the point is you can't harm me."

"Oh yeah? I'll just make up a spell that will force you into submission!" said Harry defiantly.

"I'd like to se you try," sneered Snape, and began to move towards Ron in the hopes of cooking him in a large, gold cauldron sitting on a fire.

"Uh… Goawayius Snapeius?"

Nothing happened, and Snape lifted the fat redhead onto his shoulder.

"Putrondownamonium!"

Again, nothing happened, and Snape moved closer to the cauldron.

"Harry!" called Hermione. "Take your wand out of your pocket!"

Harry just looked at her. "I would have got there eventually, Hermione." He then cast a third spell, just as Snape stooped over the cauldron. "Bigbadwolfius!"

As the name of the supposedly made up spell hit Snape in the small of the back, a strange light flooded through the small room they were in. When it had faded, the trio realised that Snape had in fact been turned into a big bad wolf.

"Curse you Harry Potter!" he howled, leaping through the whole in the wall that we know Ron had made earlier.

Harry untied Hermione and Ron, and they stood together and watched Snape, now in the form of a big bad wolf, run away into the forest.

"So, why are you actually here, Harry?" asked Hermione.

"Well, it's a long story. Can't we save it for another chapter?"

"No!" she snapped. "Tell it now."

"Fine," he groaned. "It all started when I got a letter from Malfoy saying he had stolen Ron's sister and was going to have his wicked, wicked way with her if I hadn't saved her by this time next week."

"Well what are we waiting for?" yelped Ron. "Let's go and get my sister!"

"Hang on," Harry stopped him before he ran out the hole in the wall. "I thought you were totally against my relationship with Ginny."

"When it's either you or Malfoy, I'd rather go with you. At least you have the aura of knowing what to do with a girl!"

And with that, the heroes set off on the next step of Harry's quest to save Ron's sister.

"I wonder if we get to see Dobby on this adventure," mused Ron. "I could really do with one of his éclairs right about now."

"Gee, thanks, Ron," said Hermione. "Now you've not only brought the subject of slave labour into the storyline, you've foreshadowed the next chapter. Now everyone will know that we meet up with Dobby."

She smacked him on the head, and they proceeded to chase each other through the trees, as Friends with Benefits are prone to do sometimes, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts of Ginny, Malfoy, and hot chicks whom he might encounter while trying to save his best friend's sister.

**A/N: That is the end of Chapter One! Yay! I hope you've all read it and enjoyed it because it has been a long time in the making – I haven't even advertised it on my bio page… OK, so it wasn't that long. But still, I have six more chapters to write and post, so I'd better get on with it.**

**NB (nota bene - "note well" for you people who aren't fluent in Latin): reviews really speed up the whole writing process! It's a proven science! So do it!**

**Myrtle**


	2. Day Two

**MYRTLE THE TYRTLE'S SEVEN DAYS OF FAIRY TALES**

**STARRING HARRY POTTER AND OTHER ASSORTED CHARACTERS  
****WRITTEN BY MYRTLE THE TYRTLE  
****CONCEPT BY MYRTLE THE TYRTLE  
****ALL RIGHTS PROPERTY OF MYRTLE THE TYRTLE  
****ALL CHARACTERS ARE **(not)** PROPERTY OF MYRTLE THE TYRTLE**

* * *

**CHAPTER TWO**

Harry awoke the next morning after a pleasant and successful dream in which he had chased and caught over a hundred hot chicks. He rubbed his eyes several times, and then sat up with harsh realisation.

"I'm blind!" he screamed, scaring away flocks of birds hat had roosted in the trees over night, and startling Ron and Hermione, who ran hurriedly from behind a bush to see what was wrong. More careful readers may have realised that this could be part of their "Friends with Benefits" arrangement; those who have rushed this paragraph may be wondering what is so exciting to look at behind a bush. The answer to both is "Pinecones".

"Ron, Hermione, where are you?" Harry continued to scream. "I'm blind! I can't see! I'm blind!" All this was blurted out in less than three seconds.

"Relax, Harry," said Hermione in a soothing voice as she knelt down beside him. "Just take some deep breaths, stop crying, and put your glasses on."

Harry did so. "It's a miracle! I've been saved!" He leapt up and hugged Hermione.

"Easy there, sport," said Ron. "Hermione's my Friends with Benefits partner. Go find some hot chick of you own. Just stay off my sister."

"Well, let's get a move on then," said Harry, climbing off the girl he would never be allowed to marry, seeing as "signs had been placed since the fourth book" that confirmed a Ron-Hermione conclusion. "We're never going to find any hot chicks… er, I mean, save Ginny if we don't hurry up."

The trio packed up their hastily erected campsite and proceeded to walk in an orderly fashion towards the north. The reasoning for this, explained Hermione, is that Hogwarts is apparently in Scotland. Scotland, being north of England, means they need to walk north (as opposed to the westerly direction they had been following the day before). The trek was mostly silent, apart from the occasional murmur from Ron or Hermione; this was usually accompanied with a fit of giggling from the other FwB partner. At least, this was how it went until Ron stumbled across a giant manor hidden behind a tree.

"I'm just off to take a leak," he had said, and set off to relieve himself behind a tall oak when he suddenly walked – SMACK! – straight into a wall.

Harry and Hermione came running, and just stared at Ron lying there on the ground with his robes askew.

"Gee, Ron," said Hermione. "It's quite big, isn't it!"

"I dunno," said Ron modestly, "Charlie once…"

"I meant the house," she interrupted. "I wonder what it's doing here?"

"Why don't we ask," said Harry, and he calmly strode to the door and knocked on it twice.

"No!" shrieked Hermione and Ron, and they tackled him to the ground and hid behind the oak (carefully avoiding the wet patches).

"What was that for?" groaned Harry, rubbing his head.

"You know very well that that was dangerous," snapped Hermione. "The last time we went into a house in this forest Ron nearly got eaten by Snape!"

"Yeah, but do you honestly think he'll try that again? I turned him into a cute little puppy with that awesome spell I made up!"

"No, Harry, you turned him into a savage and ruthless Big Bad Wolf! Now he'll huff and he'll puff and he'll stop at nothing to get his revenge!"

Just then the door opened. Standing there, half in shadow was a face that the trio knew all too well. But it wasn't Snape. It wasn't even Voldemort.

* * *

Perhaps now is a good time to interrupt and reminisce about happier times. Times when Voldemort was not in power, and Lily and James lived happily in Godric's Hollow. Ginny Weasley was not born and Alastor Moody still had all of his nose. None of them knew that their lives were about to spiral into darkness.

Of course, this moment of happiness did not last for long, and neither shall this chapter interruption. It was merely to point out the fact that things can change at a rapid pace. That's why smart people have insurance. Be insured. Be safe.

* * *

"No one is there, Master," called a shrill voice that everyone present knew well.

"Dobby!" they all cried, running with great speed to see their favourite (if somewhat crazy) house-elf.

"Actually, Master, Dobby is most sorry and he promises to iron his fingers later. It was actually Harry Potter and his friends. Dobby is sorry for telling the lies!" The elf turned to the three teenagers now towering over him. "Dobby is sorry to you to, Harry Potter, sir. Dobby has to tell the truths to his master!"

"That's okay, Dobby," said Hermione kindly. "We understand. But, why are you working for a master now? Didn't you have a job at Hogwarts?"

"Well, kind miss, the truth is…" Dobby began, before being interrupted by the ever hungry, ever redheaded Ron.

"Who cares if the elf has been enforced into slavery! Does your master have any food, Dobby?"

"Yes, sir, Dobby can take you to the kitchens. We has to be quiet like mices though, because Dobby's master does not like intruders."

Ron hadn't listened, and was already halfway through the hallway. Harry, Hermione and Dobby raced after him, while remaining cautious of making any sound that would anger the owner of the house.

* * *

This next segment of chapter takes place fourteen minutes after the previous segment. If you prefer things told in real time, ala _24_, go away and come back in fourteen minutes. Incidentally, this should be long enough for your computer to let you place another review. Not that I'm fishing for any.

* * *

Ron sat against a wall, rubbing a now bloated stomach. There was cream and crumbs all over his face. "They were great éclairs, Dobby. You make the best!"

"I hope Dobby's master doesn't find out," said Hermione to Harry in an undertone. "He sounds really cruel!"

"Nah, I think he'll be sweet with it," said Harry. "It was only three trays out of the five. Now, how about helping me find some hot chicks?"

"How about you put my éclairs back where they belong?" hissed an icy voice. Dobby cowered.

"Master!"

Harry, Ron and Hermione looked up to see a tall, blonde man towering over them. His long hair cascaded over his shoulders. Harry briefly thought of a possible career as a swimsuit model for this obviously sexy man, but snapped back to reality when he realised that this man had a death threat against him.

"Lucius Malfoy!" he breathed.

"In the flesh," hissed Mr Malfoy Sr. "Not that there's much left of it after my antagonising ordeal in Azkaban… my pretty face is ruined! Not to mention my party to be held tonight."

"How would having a horrible face ruin a party?" asked Ron innocently, while licking leftover éclair off of his face.

"I'll tell you why," said Mr Malfoy, as he moved closed to Ron and placed his cane on his neck, "I'll tell you why my party is ruined. I will tell you…"

"Get on with it!" scowled Harry. "We've got to go find some hot chicks!"

"You're next!" snapped Lucius. "I was planning a party tonight where I would present my guests with five trays of chocolate éclairs… but now there are only three left!"

"Please sir, don't harm the Wheezy," sobbed Dobby. "It was all Dobby's fault! Dobby is a bad, bad elf!"

"It was your fault, elf?"

"Yes, sir, yes! I gave the Wheezy the food!"

"Very well. As punishment for your disobedience, you shall not attend the party tonight. You can clean the kitchens instead. And you WON'T get paid."

He swept away, leaving Dobby still sobbing by the hearth.

"Don't worry, Dobby," said Hermione. "We'll help you! You WILL go to the party! I'll just do some magic stuff and make you totally unrecognisable!"

Dobby stopped crying. "Really?"

"Really."

Dobby leapt up, and hugged Hermione. They remained motionless for several moments, before Ron pulled the elf of his Friends with Benefits partner. "Go get your own!"

* * *

Later that night, a tall figure with long dark hair and a generous chest (Harry's contribution to Dobby's makeover) strode into the ballroom of the manor. Immediately all the men were all over her… or should that be him? This author requests confirmation on that matter, via a review. Or two. (He's a poet, and he didn't realise!)

To get back to the story…

The company danced for a while, and at a quarter to eleven, four of them sang rather drunkenly on the balcony. But then, at one minute past twelve, a womanly shriek rang out across the whole manor.

"What is it, Minister?" asked Mr Malfoy.

"There was a… thing! Sitting on my chest were a pretty woman just was!" the Minister for Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour gasped for breath.

Lucius didn't even bother to console him; he was too busy investigating a sock left behind beside Scrimgeour.

"The 'visitor' has left behind a strange garment!" decreed Lucius. It would appear that the Death Eater did not comprehend the idea of putting a cloth tube upon his foot before wearing shoes. Seriously, who can blame him? It's absurd!

"Tomorrow," he continued, "I will search for the wearer and make her my concubine. I've had no feminine affection since Cissy moved in with the Dark Lord," he added in an undertone.

"But sir," said a nondescript man in purple robes, "it _is _tomorrow! It's after midnight!"

Lucius frowned. "In that case we shall start now!"

Needless to say, he did not find a single person to fit the sock, and had given up hope by daybreak. "Here, boy," he motioned to Harry, who, for some reason or other, had not left the house yet. "Take this and throw it in the trash."

"Not on your life!" snorted Harry. "I don't know where it's been!"

"Fine. Elf!" Lucius yelled, and Dobby came running. "Get rid of this, now." He threw the sock at Dobby and the elf caught it.

"Master has given Dobby a sock!" exclaimed the elf.

"What? Oh, not again!" sighed the now elfless wizard. "But I was sleep-deprived! And drunk! It doesn't count!"

Dobby didn't listen. "Dobby shall be going now." He snapped his fingers, and disappeared.

"I suppose I should try and kill you, Potter," sighed the aforementioned sleep-deprived man. "But… I hear rumours you are going to go and fight my Draco. Personally, I hope you kill that lily-livered coward. I'll never forgive him for not killing Dumbledore. Well, anyway, I'm off now. Got a lot of sleep to catch up on!"

He, also, disappeared, and Hermione and Ron came skipping in through from behind a closed door, arms laden full of pinecones.

"So? What did we miss?"

* * *

**A/N: The end of another chapter! Please review! I would love to know what you think of this!**

**Myrtle**


	3. Day Three

**MYRTLE THE TYRTLE'S SEVEN DAYS OF FAIRY TALES**

**STARRING HARRY POTTER AND OTHER ASSORTED CHARACTERS  
****WRITTEN BY MYRTLE THE TYRTLE  
****CONCEPT BY MYRTLE THE TYRTLE  
****ALL RIGHTS PROPERTY OF MYRTLE THE TYRTLE  
****ALL CHARACTERS ARE **(not)** PROPERTY OF MYRTLE THE TYRTLE**

**CHAPTER THREE**

It was now morning again, and Harry had just finished re-enacting what the redhead and his woman had missed while pinecone hunting in the dark.

"And then Mr Malfoy was like _Dude, Harry, that was totally awesome, do it again, you're so cool I bet you have loads of friends but is there any way I can repay you for like totally saving my party?_, and I was like _Yeah, I know, I'm popular and by the way do you happen to know any hot chicks?_ and then he said, do you know what he said, he said…"

"Harry!" snapped Hermione angrily, sleepily and gracefully, all at the same time.

Harry spun around. "Yes! That's exactly what he said! How did you know?"

"'Coz it's your freaking name!" growled Ron. "And now that you've kept us up all night with your ridiculously out-of-proportion story, can we please get back to sleep?"

"What? Here?" exclaimed Harry. "Isn't that a bit dangerous?"

"Well, if walking into Draco's father's house is safe… and letting you try and make up spells to use on Snape is safe," said Hermione with a tone of sarcasm that she seemed to have acquired of late, "then I'm sure it will be perfectly safe."

"Well, if you say so," said Harry matter-of-factly, and settled down to dream of hot chicks beneath a tree.

"No, you dolt! I was being sarcastic! Come on and let's go and find a nice cosy house to invade… er, ask nicely if we can sleep there."

She and Ron picked up the slumbering Harry between them, and strode off rather painfully: Harry had obviously been subject to Dudley's latest diet – see-food – and was consequently slightly overweight.

"Look, up ahead!" cried Ron. "It appears to be a large box made out of wood… and it's wearing a hat!"

"Honestly, Ron," sighed Hermione. "Anyone would think you'd be able to recognise a house by now… especially since we've almost been killed in the last two we've visited."

But her ginger Friends with Benefits partner had already skipped ahead, and by the time Hermione had struggled on with Harry, Ron had knocked on the door.

"What are you doing? Get back!" But it was too late. A kindly old woman was opening the door.

"Hello, dearies!" she exclaimed in a rather high-pitched tone that may or may not have been a bearded man's attempt at impersonating a woman. "Are you here for tea and bikkies?"

"Oh yes!" said Ron.

"I'll have a hot chick, too, please, if you've got one," added Harry, who had really just been pretending to sleep the whole time. Because, really, walking by oneself takes far too much effort.

The old lady turned around and gave the trio a rather nice look at her bum. (They turned around and gave the surrounding grass a rather nice coating of vomit.) "OK, Nevvie-poo, we want three more cups. Pronto! And someone wants a cooked bird, too, so go lay us an egg!" Returning to her guests, she bade them entry into the box with a hat… I mean, house.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name," said Hermione. As the only girl in the group, she was forced to attempt politeness when confronted with strangers.

"Well that's because I didn't give it, dearie," smiled the woman. "Now, sit down, and have a nice apple while we wait for your tea."

She was brandishing a wicker basket, but Hermione alone reached for a fruit. (On a side note, apples are actually ovaries. My year 10 Science teacher taught me that… and I've never looked at an apple (or her!) the same again…)

"Hermione, what are you doing?" cried Ron, knocking the plant's sexual reproductive organ out of her hand.

"What, Ron? I imagine you're about to tell me something like… there's a sleeping draught hidden within the fruit and if I eat it I'll go to sleep for a thousand years until a handsome prince kisses me on the lips and tells me he wants to have my babies?"

"No, I…"

"And while that's going on, why don't I just get looked after by seven little men, who all secretly have a foot fetish?"

"Please, stop foreshadowing, Hermione!"

"Well just what is the problem then?"

There was a few seconds of silence before Ron spoke. "If you'd eaten that apple, you'd… you'd… you'd have eaten healthy food!" he blurted out in a rush.

A panicked look appeared instantaneously on Hermione's face. She screamed. So did Harry. Although, as you'll find out in the next paragraph or so, they weren't for the same reasons.

Breathing deeply, Hermione started to cry. "Is it gone? It was there! I touched it!"

"There, there," said the strangely OOC Ron, patting her on the back. As Harry was sitting between them, this was rather awkward. It was made easier, however, by the fact that the bold, raven-haired hero was bent double in pain, clutching his scar. "Let's go outside and make it all better!"

He led her through a bi-folding glass door. Actually, I don't know if that's possible… but then again, you can't turn potions teachers into wolves everyday either, so who really cares?

Meanwhile, Harry had also left the room. Managing to find his way to the bathroom without asking for directions from the occupants of the house (one, in particular, had not been mentioned yet, and the other had been forgotten about entirely). Counting the doors, he clutched his forehead in agony, kicked over a Ming vase and greeted his fellow Gryffindor Neville Longbottom before collapsing on a tile floor. Finally, alone, he subdued to the vision.

_Harry… Harry… this is Draco the incredibly sexy ferret Malfoy… I've hijacked the Dark Lord's brain while he rests after painting my mother's toenails, and I've got a message for you._

"What… is it?" grunted Harry.

_Did you say something? Sorry, these connections are strictly one-way only. The message is: ""You are not alone"… oh, and there are only four days left, by the way, so you'd better get a move on!_

The pain ceased, the vision ended. Harry looked up, and found he was indeed not alone.

* * *

Don't you just hate it when the author writes in an unconnected, proseless fashion like this? Well, me, I love it. Hilarious to read, and a genuine intelligence test at the same time. Only people with an IQ over 12 can read past the next set of stars for reasons a) it uses big words, and b) it has horrible amounts of foreshadowing for chapter five.

While Harry was looking at the stranger he was in the bathroom with, and Ron and Hermione had found a new game to play under the oak trees, a dark, hairy stranger was loping through the forest on all fours. As an old man with a wooden cart drew nearer, he stood and transformed into the convicted mass-murderer, Sirius Black.

"Want to buy a wand?" quavered the old man.

Sirius just grinned, doggedly.

* * *

OK, so Sirius is in the forest, Ron and Hermione are stroking two large leaves, and Harry is staring at the face of Severus Snape. Oh, did I not say it was him? Whoops.

Well now you know. Snape's back, and looking furrier than ever.

"Wow, Snape! Haven't seen you in like… two chapters! That's approximately two days! How've you been? And… are you furrier than ever?"

"Thanks, Potter, good of you to notice the work I got done in Majorca. Honestly, I don't know why I stick with that witch… but, wait! I'm supposed to hate you!"

"Well, duh! And I'm going to kill you for what you did to Dumbledore!"

Now, at this point, if there was a camera, Snape would look at it, shrug, and bolt out the door. Turns out there actually _was_ a camera in the bathroom, but as a Muggle-hating wizard, he didn't recognise it. So, yeah, he just fled.

Harry, of course, gave chase, and confronted the greasy-haired killer in the kitchen. Snape, at the moment was eyeing up a tasty treat. Sitting on the counter was a tray of éclairs, a pile of chocolate chip cookies and a wicker basket of apples. Standing in front of the luscious goodies was an old lady. Observant readers may presume this to be Mrs Figg, Harry's elderly neighbour. Observant readers who can't take the pain of being wrong will shortly understand that they are reading the wrong story.

At that moment, Neville burst into the room carrying a tea tray. "Sorry I'm late, Grandmama, the egg just wouldn't come and I tried for so long and it didn't work so I just made one by magic but I'm not very good at magic and I broke all the pink cups, and I know that you're not so attached to the blue ones, but… crikey! There's a wolf in the kitchen! Shall I come back later?"

While Neville stammered his apologies for interrupting his grandparent, the wolf we know to be Severus Snape made his move. In a single gulp, he swallowed both Longbottoms, and rounded on Harry.

"No, witnesses, Potter. I'll have you for dessert, then polish off these apples!"

"Oh no, you won't!" came a shriek from the door. It was the girl with the intelligence, the woman with the brains, the prefect with the redhead lying at her feet. Hermione raised her wand, and a flurry of razor-sharp leaves flew at the wolf. His stomach was sliced open, and out fell the corpses of Neville and Augusta Longbottom. Simply coming into contact with the foul Potions Master had stopped their respective hearts from beating.

Cursing in several languages, Snape turned, dove out the window and ran, dripping blood, into the surrounding forest. His voice was faint as he threatened, "I'll get you, yet, Potter! Just wait till I've found a suitable Healer to fix my stomach!"

Generally, when something like this happens, an explanation is needed to keep the readers in the loop. Of course, this being a fanfic – and a Harry Potter fanfic at that – we all know that bizarre stuff happens all the time in the wizarding world. And so, our story ends with Harry, Ron and Hermione, sleeping on the tiled floor of Mrs Longbottom's kitchen, curled up like the wolf they know killed Dumbledore.

Except, he wasn't a wolf then.

Yeah.

**A/N: Woah… that took ages to write! Almost eight months, to tell the truth! I fear I may have lost my touch, though, so review and let me know if I should write the remaining four chapters. (Yes, there's only four left!) Or is my blatant foreshadowing enough for you lot?**

**Myrtle**


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Harry Potter, Adventure, Humor