Harry Potter And The Title That Is Too Long For FA

The Second Chapter: Happy Harry Continues to Hasten Heroically to Hogwarts, and Meets Some Randomly Inserted Characters Along the Way

Still on his way to the train, with his trolley/cart/baggage container and his newfound school supplies--for all of you who did not read chapter one...read chapter one. AND REVIEW!--Harry happily ignored Hedwig's irritated but completely random and pointless hooting, and kept a steady--and incredibly sexy--lookout for any familiar faces. Then, when he would see a familiar face, he would wave to it ecstatically, mostly because it amuses the author to imagine Harry pushing around his massive trunk and other assorted luggage, ignoring Hedwig's plaintive (and quite loud by this time) hooting, and navigating his way through the crowded platform to the train while simultaneously trying to look around and wave at everyone.

However (and fortunately for the readers, might I ad), after a while the author got tired of the spectacle our favorite protagonist was making, so she decided it was due time for Harry to get to the train. So he got to the train. In fact, he got to the train so well that he smashed his luggage-toting vehicle into it and almost broke his nose on Hedwig's cage...but ended up breaking his glasses instead. Go figure.

Anyway...Harry quickly put his glasses back on, even though, as both lenses had fallen out, they were of little--well, actually, now they would have been of no--use to him now. Then he decisively decided to enter the compartment in front of him and put his luggage inside, while he waited for his friends.

...Wait a minute; he does have friends, right? Oh yeah...yeah, the redhead and that brunette. I mean...that's right, isn't it? It is right, right? Hello? Is it? HELLO?!

...Erm, sorry about that. Moving on...

Expeditiously, Harry slid back the compartment door and stuck his head inside, to check that it was indeed empty--and therefore by definition containing no Slytherins, Teachers, Evil Overlords, Short, fat and balding Evil Overlord-minions, Death Eaters, Vicious Wizard Journalists, Dementors, Giant Homicidal Serpent Monarchs, House Elves, Dragons, Maniacal/Demon Possessed Bludgers, or even worse, a Depressingly-Unimaginative-Harry-Potter-Fan-Fiction-Parody-Pink-Fluffy Bunny. Seeing that it was indeed quite void of any signs of life (or recent cleaning), Harry lifted his heavy trunk onto the train and then stuck his head inside the compartment once more before getting on...just because.

Suddenly (actually, to be more precise, just as Harry was about to walk into the compartment) a pair of--hey, wait a minute! Could this be a part of some sinister, twisted plan to prevent Harry from getting onto the train?--familiar voices--no really! I mean it! This could be it! Voldemort, taking his revenge! Poor Harry, and he hasn't even gotten on to the train ye--

Alright, that's quite enough.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled plotline and storytelling.

Right, so then, as I was saying, suddenly a pair of familiar voices rang out across the platform.

Which, seeing as it was so crowded, means that the owners of these voices would have had to have vocal boxes capable of producing sounds of up to 90 decibels or more, to assure that Harry hear them. And thank goodness they did have powerful vocal boxes capable of such feats, so powerful in fact that because they projected the sound of their voices so effectively Harry, while turning around excitedly to see who the hell it was that was yelling his name, had to consciously block out the sensation of what felt like his eardrums tearing. How exciting!

Striding towards him (at a rapid pace that would have put Sonic the Hedgehog to shame) were two pairs of legs, which were in turn attached to bodies that served as perches for a pair of quite familiar faces. One of these said faces was long, pale and freckled, crowned with a flaming mass of orange/red/burnt umber (I guess it depends on what type of contacts you wear?) hair; the other was small and flushed, and had two glittering, chocolaty eyes that stared up at him from beneath a formerly-bushy brown, known sun-kissed and silky smooth, pile of hair.

But enough about Fred Weasely and Angelina Johnson, because behind them were Ron and Hermione.

"Harry!" they called again, more agitatedly, as they practically bounded toward him. As they approached, Harry could see that his two best friends' (as if you didn't already know that) physical appearances had changed dramatically and rather exaggeratedly during the course of the summer, and that they had developed more in a span of three months than any normal teenagers could ever hope to, although this may have been due to the effects that a consistent diet of Miracle GroTM has on one's bodily growth...but then, let's not point any fingers here, shall we?

"Bloody hell, Harry!" exclaimed Ron, as he and Hermione were finally able to push past the last of the annoyingly useless background characters who were crowding the platform, but mostly just getting in the way. "You've developed more in your physical appearance in a span of three months than any normal teenager could ever hope to! You haven't been dabbling in that Miracle-GroTM stuff again, now, have you?" he finished, with a sly wink that caused several of the background characters to vomit violently onto each other's cardboard cut-out trunks, because suddenly Ron knew what Miracle-GroTM was, and had the personality of a flamboyantly homosexual Lockhart (or maybe just a normal Lockhart).

"Ron, watch your language," said Hermione reprovingly, basically because that's all she ever does. Harry observed that her voice sounded rather muffled, as she was hidden behind a large stack of books that had suddenly appeared in her hands.

However, even though she was obscured by all these voluminous tomes, Harry, using the X-Ray vision that he had recently acquired in the absence of his glasses' lenses, was able to see through all the cracking parchment and moldy binding, and find something more aesthetically pleasing to stare at.

What Harry saw can also be described as the typical dream of any pubescent male on this planet. Harry saw that Hermione had, over the summer, developed extremely large breasts and was flaunting them shamelessly by wearing a tight, low-cut shirt with the words 'Shameless Large Breast Flaunter' scrawled in hot pink rhinestones across the front.

This was simply because, as we all know, it is indeed completely natural for an average girl to go from 'developing normally' to 'suddenly staggeringly enormous' in the Bosom Department (which, in passing, is apparently situated right next to the Swedish Penis Enlarger Factory) in less than three months' time; and for Hermione to have suddenly acquired a taste for trendy Muggle clothing.

Oh yeah. Sooo completely natural.

Harry also noticed that she was wearing make-up: eye-liner, eye-shadow, eye-glitter, foundation, cover-up, blush, lipstick, lip-liner, lip-gloss--if you can think of anything else, feel free to insert it here--the works.

"Oh," said Hermione (remember that showcasing of a spectacularly inept grasp of human-sounding dialogue? Well, it's ba-ack!!) , seeing that Harry was gawking (well, it was more like drooling, but you get the picture) at her. She laughed good-naturedly (more good-naturedly than any girl with even a shred of integrity and self-respect would have laughed had she caught some guy eyeing her up and down), and sparkling, tinkling sound that traveled many leagues until it finally reached an alien spaceship orbiting 10,000 miles above Earth's atmosphere, where it was then captured and harnessed to a machine capable of destroying the entire Universe...if it hadn't been for one man; one man who saved us all--

Erm, right. Sorry; too many comic books, not enough consecutive hours of sleep. Sorry I keep interrupting; back to the plot...

Wait, there's a plot?

I mean, because if there is, don't you think someone should have told m--

ANYWAY:

Hermione laughed, a sparkling tinkling sound that carried for miles around, and that shattered many an innocent window. "I see you've noticed my new...well...this," she said, gesturing to herself with her hands. Harry nodded, a bit of drool escaping from his half-open mouth. His eyes looked a bit glazed.

"Your eyes look a bit glazed," Hermione said. "Oh well...anyway, here's what happened: one day this summer, around mid-July I should think, while I was on my way to my Grandmother's house to deliver a basket of baked goodies, wearing the brand new red rain-poncho my mother had just bought me, I was ambushed by Lavender Brown, Parvarti Patil, and that other girl they always hang out with. I had been traveling on a shortcut that led through an isolated stretch of woods (the same path, ironically, which my mother had told me not to use), so when they jumped out and captured me, no one could hear my cries. Actually, that may have also been due to the fact that I was unconscious at the time," considered Hermione thoughtfully, "but then again. I guess we'll never really know..."

By now, Ron had become rather bored by the time it was taking Hermione to finish her story, and by Harry's hormonal stupor, so he decided to cut in.

"Look," he said impatiently to Harry, "the end of the story goes that 'Mione was miraculously made over and that oddly enough, as a result, she hasn't been able to do anything about her drastic makeup and wardrobe change since, alright?"

Harry quickly shook himself awake. He wondered briefly what was going on. This had never happened to him before; not even that one time at Dudley's 10^th birthday party when Aunt Petunia had run into the kitchen in nothing but a towel because Harry had unconsciously magicked a hive of bees into the bathroom after she wouldn't let him finish his breakfast. (A/N: Ugh, what a disgusting, mental image. *shudder*)

Suddenly, Hermione shrieked. "Oh my goodness--Ron--no--like, omigod, NOOOOOOO! I just realized--" she wailed.

"You realized? What did you realize?"

"'Mione, what's wrong?"

"I just realized!" sobbed Hermione.

"WHAT?!" shouted Harry and Ron together.

"...that...this...top...DOESN'T MATCH MY PANTS!" she burst out spastically.

"Wha--?" started Harry, but Ron finished for him.

"Don't worry 'Mione," said our favorite male Weasely (except for Fred, George, Percy, Charlie, Bill and Arthur that is...), patting Hermione consolingly on her slim, tanned shoulder with his slim, tanned, as well as large and muscular hand...although how hands can be muscular, I'm not quite sure...

Hermione rapidly regained her self control. "Sorry about that," she apologized quickly, turning a rather interesting shade of purple beneath the heavy coat of rouge on her cheeks. "Ever since The Ambush, apparently, I've been stricken by a form of rare but non-life-threatening disease, known as VGD--or, if you don't speak in acronyms, Valley Girl Syndrome."

She flipped her for emphasis.

Harry stared...but for an entirely different reason than one mentioned above.

"Don't worry 'Mione," said Ron again, patting Hermione consolingly on her slim, tanned shoulder with his slim, tanned, as well as large and muscular hand. "No matter how repetitive or redundant our dialogue becomes, I will always be here for you."