There was a whistle, a puff of smoke, and a roar of cries from the parents on this morning of September 1st as the train known as the Hogwarts Express pulled away from the station.
In a rather small compartment, watching the station shrink as the train gained speed, sat a typical 17 year-old teenage boy—or at least he appeared typical on the outside. He wore a typical light-blue T-shirt, blue jeans, and some very old, very beat-up converse. He had jet-black hair that never could decide how it wanted to sit and brilliant green eyes. What set him apart from the rest of the wizarding world were his scar, and the responsibility that came with it.
This curious little scar was shaped like none other than a lightning bolt. Sixteen years ago, when a dark, evil dude—also known as Lord Voldemort—had it out for Harry Potter. So, doing what every level-headed, smart, completely-human wizard would do, he tried to kill Harry, who was only one year of age back then.
It (obviously) didn’t work, since Harry Potter was sitting in this compartment, completely alive and whole. Voldemort didn’t actually die, but then kind of did die, and lots of other things that really aren’t relevant at this point in time.
Across from Harry were his two best friends: Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.
Ron Weasley—a devilishly handsome, tall, red-haired wizard—was wearing a Chudley Cannons T-shirt and your basic khaki shorts. Hermione Granger—the most beautiful, smartest, bushy-haired (although the bushiness had calmed down these past few years) witch of her age—wore an extremely flattering skirt and a rather low-cut T-shirt.
But Harry Potter could not see what either of his best friends was wearing, for they were in a tight embrace, snogging vigorously. As he looked at the landscape passing by, he quickly thought of his one love, Ginny Weasley. Ginny was Ron’s younger sister who had decided to become a nun and had moved to Switzerland last year after too many boys began looking at her in curious ways.
Harry quickly changed his train of thought from his teenage love to his responsibility. Since Voldemort didn’t actually die, and was roaming the world somewhere out there, it was up to Harry to kill the Darkest Wizard…ever.
Harry was about to consider different places that horcruxes could be (don’t know what horcruxes are? Well then you really shouldn’t be reading this), when someone entered their compartment.
“Hello,” Victor Krum said. He looked like a giant, ugly goldfish.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Harry asked. The two lovers sitting across from him broke apart.
“I have come to profess my love to Hermione,” he said. His English had improved greatly since the last time Harry had seen him. “Hermione, I love you, and I want you to marry me and move to Bulgaria with me.”
Hermione stood up, filled with rage, and slapped him. She then stunned him before going back to snogging her boyfriend, Ron.
Next entered Draco Malfoy, Harry’s arch nemesis.
“Hello Pothead, Weasel—” Draco had turned to see Ron and Hermione’s embrace. “Aw no fair. Even Weasley’s got a girlfriend,” Draco said in a winy voice.
Ron pulled away from a frowning Hermione. “Yeah, that’s right. I will die happy, and handsome, and rich, while you will die alone, fat, ugly, and poor—”
There was a flash of green light and Draco lay dead on the floor next to a unconscious Krum. Harry looked up to see the caster of the unforgivable curse.
It was none other than the tan-deprived, noseless, creepy-ass Voldemort; his crazy red eyes were staring back at Harry.
“YOU!” Harry screamed, getting out his wand in the process.
“AVADA KEDEVRA!” Voldemort screeched. Harry did a simple disarming spell and the curse deflected and hit Krum instead. Krum was now dead.
“OK, LET’S TRY THIS AGAIN! AVADA KED—”
Snape threw open the compartment doors, holding his wand out in a threating and very epic pose. “I LOVE YOUR EYES, I’LL SAVE YOU HARR—”
“Avada Kederva.” Voldemort almost whispered. It hit Snape square in the chest and he crumpled to the floor.
“That was weird,” Ron said to no one in particular.
“OK,” Voldemort said. “FOR THE LAST TIME! WHY IS IT SO HARD TO KILL YOU ANYWAY? AVADA KEDE—”
A bolt of green light came from behind Voldemort and hit him square in the back. Voldemort fell face-forward onto the dead bodies of Snape, Krum, and Malfoy. Harry looked up to see who had saved him; the sight made him break out into a smile.
Sirius Black (Harry’s godfather) stood with his wand out, looking fierce; Albus Dumbledore looked around the compartment, looking not only like he was full of wisdom, but full of some kind of loopy-potion too; Ginny Weasley stood in all black, looking, well, like a Swiss nun; and Fred Weasley stood half-invisible with one of his half-invisible hats on.
Harry ran up to his godfather and hugged him. Hermione and Ron broke away resentfully and waved at all their now not-dead friends.
“I thought you died, and went through the veil thingy,” Harry said to Sirius.
“Oh that thing? Nah, it just made me invisible. I went on holiday.”
“What about the prophecy, I thought I had to kill Voldemort.”
“Prophecy, smophecy. Everyone knows it was made by a crazy old bat anyways.”
“And I thought you died, on the Astronomy tower that night. Snape killed you,” Harry said to Dumbledore.
“What? Oh, that was my twin brother Subla. I didn’t really like him either; I can see why Severus would want to kill him.”
“Then where were you?”
“I was in Mexico with Sirius.”
Harry hugged everyone, along with Ron and Hermione.
“Now, let us go find a compartment not filled with dead bodies to share stories of our adventures!” Fred said joyously.
And indeed, everyone did share epic stories of their adventu
“Ron,” I hear Hermione’s voice behind me. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing.” I quickly hide my piece of parchment.
“No, show me!” She eventually wrestles it out of my grasp and starts reading it. “’An extremely flattering skirt and a rather low-cut T-shirt’?”
“I will not apologize for art.”
She rolls her eyes and continues reading. “’tan-deprived, noseless, creepy-ass’?” she raises an eyebrow.
“Hey, did you ever see him? He was whiter than snow.” She laughs and sits in my lap.
She scans the rest of my story and laughs at the ridiculousness, muttering words such as “crazy”, “Swiss nun”, and “Subla” while shaking her head.
“You really do have a strange imagination.”
“What else am I supposed to do, stare at a blank wall? You’re the one with her nose constantly in a book during our honeymoon.”
“You know, I can think of something that doesn’t require any books,” I say while waggling my eyebrows seductively.
“Does it not require any clothes either?”
“You really are the brightest witch of our age.” I scoop her up in my arms and we head to the bedroom, where we innocently color pictures of Harry Potter, Wendelin the Weird, and Hungarian Horntails with leftover crayons… yeah right.
So... I just thought up this silly little one-shot when I was looking through all the serious stories that are like "Harry Potter and the Mystery of the Syltherins' Knickers" or something.
Just a few reminders:
a.) I'm not JK Rowling
b.) Bored? Check out my other stories
c.) Don't do b.) until you REVIEW! please?
a/n update (7/13): Hey everyone! I've decided to make a collection of one-shots about Ron doing, well, Ron-ish things and handling situations in a very Ron-like manner. So, just keep an eye out for them. The collection's called "Honestly, Ronald!: a collection of one-shots of Ron just being, well, Ron", but in the story summaries it'll say "Part of the 'Honestly, Ronald!' collection" like in this summary. So... thanks for reading and reviewing (because you're going to review, right?) and do letter b.)! ok?
Write a Review Harry Potter and the-- What are you doing?: The First and Only Chapter