Harry Potter and the Sorcerer\'s Groan

Disclaimer: I don\'t own anything you recognize except for the plot. This is a loving parody of our wonderful JK Rowling\'s work. And, honestly, you wouldn\'t get much if you sued me (some old jeans, a brush, and a ring that has a flip-flop on it, maybe even a cup of water) and if I owned the characters, they\'d be screwing like little jackrabbits (aww, how cute!) all over the place, and Sirius would be alive (shakes fist at JK for killing him off). I\'d also have put supermodels in their parts for the movies- except for the fact that Tom Felton could stay. Yay Draco!!!!... yummy ;-)


Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Groan

Part 1: The Flight

Severus S. Snape

This was getting ridiculous. We should have been on broomsticks- safe, comfortable, reliable broomsticks- but no, we simply had to be on an “airplane.” What is that, anyway? Some stupid Muggle invention that is constantly, from recent research, crashing and malfunctioning all over the world. And Potter… he was just being himself. Having him along was a health hazard all it’s own. Not only that, but he wanted to play fireworks. Fireworks, I tell you! And I, being the kind, caring, compassionate man that I am, allowed him to talk me into it.

Note To Self: BIG MISTAKE… never again.

Travesties such as this only occur in fairy tales. At least, that was my previous opinion on such matters until they happened to me. Correction: me and the Boy-Who-Wouldn’t-Bloody-Die.

It was just a normal “flight” until Potter- being the juvenile, immature little faggot (I should probably check this fact out before I say that for sure, but I do have some inside information from a certain Malfoy- not the young one) that he is- challenged me to a fireworks competition. I was compelled to engage in such an idiotic activity by my ego, which, I will admit, has suffered greatly in these past years (for more information, see the aforementioned Malfoy). And Potter, being the complete moron that he is, decided that he would make a particularly violent “pop” that made the windows in our little “airplane” blow out.

One thing you must know about Muggle machinery; DO NOT, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, BLOW OUT THE WINDOWS.

Physics in the magical world is far less complicated than in the Muggle world. Yes, true, if you fall in the magical world, gravity pulls you down. This, I have discovered, is precisely the same in the Muggle world. Especially on larger objects such as the “airplane.”

Because of this obvious “gravity” problem, we plunged into a lake in the middle of the BLOODY Canadian wilderness! ALONE… WITH POTTER.

Can my life get any more torturous?

Actually, I can answer that question: IT JUST DID. Potter just walked up to me, spouting something about me being a useless bastard and needing to help him build something called a “camping tent” and a fire.
Oh, yes, one more thing: our wands are at the bottom of said lake.

Part 1: The Flight

Harry J. Potter

This was getting ridiculous.

Very ridiculous.

Honestly, if Snape really wants to complain- which he has already done for the past three hours- he should try building a damaged tent, starting a fire with sticks covered in snow, and dealing with himself for three straight hours without piercing your own eyeballs out with said sticks.

He has NO idea how difficult it was, and I’ve only been camping once in my entire life. And we stayed in a cabin- no fire-making, no tent-pitching, and certainly no Snape-bitching.

Do you know what he’s doing right now? Well, of course you don’t, because we’re ALONE IN THE CANADIAN WILDERNESS WITH NO WANDS, NO HEAT, NO WANDS, NO BEDS, NO FRIENDS, NO WANDS AND- do I really need to say it again? NO WANDS!

He’s sitting there on his greesy, pale behind (note to self: don’t think about that- bad mental image) enjoying MY fire, MY shelter, MY berries (which, by the way, are extremely yummy), and MY company. Sometimes, the guy has no idea what’s going on around him.

Another note to self: I must ask him how he gets to be a Potions “Master.” No one at Hogwarts actually knows how you get to be a “Master.” Even Hermione doesn’t know, and she researched it.

Speaking of what everyone at Hogwarts doesn’t know, how can Snape make a comment about ME being a faggot? He has ABSOLUTELY no room to talk… guess how he got “inside” information from Lucius Malfoy?

ANOTHER note to self: *shudder* don’t think about Lucius and Snape. Oh god, too late…

Oh yeah, and the whole “airplane” (why does he put that in quotation marks? That makes no damn sense) incident was HIS fault. Said “ego” caused him to create a “particularly violent ‘pop’” that blew out all of the windows.

I do agree on one thing, however. When in an “airplane” (god I love that kind of stuff… he’s such an idiot) DO NOT BLOW OUT THE BLOODY WINDOWS. UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES SHOULD YOU BLOW OUT THE BLOODY WINDOWS, ESPECIALLY WHEN HOVERING OVER A LAKE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE CANADIAN WILDERNESS. Even more especially, never do so in the company of one Severus S. (I wonder what that stands for) Snape, Greasy Git who REALLY should consider a better shampoo.

You’re probably wondering why the hell we were in said “airplane” together. Actually, I’m wondering the same thing, but I’ll tell you the excuse (they’re like assholes, everyone’s got one) Dumbledore gave us.

Voldemort’s “hidden cavern” is supposed to be in Alaska. Snape and I, disguised with cool glamour-spell-thingys (I made Snape a blonde, it was surprising how much he looked like a Malfoy then), made our way on, once again, said “airplane” over the Canadian wilderness with only a pilot with us. When Snape blew out the bloody windows, the air rushed in and the pilot rushed out, leaving the two of us without parachutes and bound straight for the center of a very cold, very deep, very FROZEN, very WET mass of water.

My wand is lost. Snape’s wand is present, however it was broken sometime during the crash (or, possibly, when I saved him from drowning. Who knew the guy couldn’t swim? I sure didn’t and I hated having to drag his sorry soaking ass all the way to shore) and is now totally and completely bloody useless.

And he says I’m an idiot.

Without me, he’d be frozen in some damn lake, probably drowning or just barely alive, waiting for death to take him. Actually, that’s not a very bad idea, but we’ll get to that later.

Damn these berries are good.

We I found these cool red berries that were very, very ripe. They’d been sitting on this bush, practically screaming to be plucked and shoved into an orifice (unfortunately, Snape read that and looked at me funny, because we all know how his filthy mind works. Okay, I admit, I was thinking it, too, but that’s not the point!).

Yet another note to self: stop writing stupid shit- Snape will read it later and perhaps think I like that sort of thing.
Which of course, I don’t. Do, too.

I should probably stop writing now. I have to think of annoying stuff to do to him. I think I might start calling him “Sevvie.” That’ll piss him off.

Hey, guess what? Since he’s over there enjoying MY fire, MY tent, MY shelter, MY berries (snigger- wait, where did that come from?), and MY company, I have more time to write.

Oh yeah, this pen and the notebook we’re writing in are mine. Score one for the BOY-WHO-LIVED. Asshole.

Get it bloody straight. Wait a second, how can you? You’re a bloody poof!

I snorted in laughter and “Sevvie” (wow that got a serious frown from him… maybe Lucius calls him that. Wait, BAD IMAGE!) muttered something about asses and me. I am SO afraid right now.

I think these berries might have been in the sun for too long. Snape can’t walk in a straight line (but maybe that is aforementioned Malfoy’s fault, I’m not sure and I certainly don’t wan---


A/N: This was something my cousin and I came up with at about three in the morning yesterday. Feedback is wonderful, and don\'t forget to feed the plot bunnies some Lemon Drops!