Harry Potter and the Pepperoni of Doom!

CHAPTER SEVEN

The next morning, Harry reflected on the events of the night before. They seemed hazy, blurry around the edges, and he couldn't quite work out what had happened and when, who had been with who at any one time, and just when his shouting compulsion had fixed itself. He even had trouble figuring out when they had all given up on making sense out of the whole thing and gone to bed.

Although he knew precisely whom he had gone to bed with, as the pair of them were staring up at him in wonder out of the corner of the duvet. He cringed and looked at Ron and Hermione, then at the pile of pepperoni on the bedside table.

"What the hell happened last night?" he gasped.

"Don't you remember," Hermione giggled. "The Tootin Trio started up and we were so popular, the Slytherins gave us more pepperoni to keep us going. But everyone ended up high on the second-hand pepperoni fumes, including us, and - well, you can see for yourself. The Tootin Trio became the Threesome Trio."

"Who came up with that name? It's crap," Harry snorted.

"Er, you did. We thought it was crap too, but you insisted that's what we called ourselves or you weren't going through with it at all."

"Yeah," Ron interrupted, "and by that time we'd seen your secret salami stash and decided we wanted a piece of the action."

"I told you the rumours were unfounded," Harry gurned.

A long silence ensued, followed by a silent but violent... They all looked at each other accusingly before bursting into giggles.

Harry frowned suddenly. "Hey, didn't Hagrid die or something?"

"Yea, I think so," Hermione shrugged. "I guess he wasn't important enough to remember."

"Well, thank God we don't have to mention him again, then," Harry harrumphed.

"So what happens now, Harry?"

"How should I know?"

She shrugged. "Well, you're Harry. You always know what to do."

"Well maybe," Harry said venomously, "I don't want to know what to do! MAYBE I'M TIRED OF COMING UP WITH ALL THE BRILLIANT PLANS! MAYBE I WANT ONE OF YOU TO BE THE BRAVE HERO FOR ONCE!"

"Isn't that why the Hufflepuffs were brought back?" Hermione inquired.

Before Harry could respond about them being simply another plotline that was forgotten and re-established, Ron stirred and opened his eyes.

"I had my big hero scene," he said sleepily. "Scene twenty-nine. Bloody brilliant scene."

"Oh please," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "Everyone knows that the best scene was my emotional performance in Hagrid's hut. I can cry on demand twenty times better than either of you."

"Which doesn't say much," Harry grumbled, just as Ron added, "Yeah, but your eyes were only watering because of Hagrid's stench."

"That's beside the point."

"It is not."

Deciding to leave the bickering lovebirds in bed, Harry grabbed the nearest robe and descended the stairs into the common room, where he was met with quite an extraordinary sight.

Draco Malfoy sat before the fire in quite a difficult and... er... uncomfortable looking yoga position, poking at a cube of watery, mushy-looking stuff in a frying pan.

"Um," Harry began, "what the hell is that? And why are you in my common room?"

Draco looked up and beamed. "Light the candle over there, will you Harry?"

Confused, Harry lit the candle and went to join his archenemy before the fire, as wafts of aromatherapy cinnamon filled the room.

"I began purifying myself after my father was discovered to be so impure and unenlightened. Those enlightenment monks really know their shit," Draco proclaimed, ignoring the second question altogether. "This is my breakfast masterpiece. It's tofu sautéed in Chai. I'm a master of Chai," he added. "I love Chai tea. And Tai Chi."

* * *

Seamus Finnigan woke up, not exactly sure what had happened the previous night. He wasn't even sure if he was in the right bed or not, but thankfully all the greasy orange marks covering the sheets confirmed that it was indeed his bed. Lying next to him was Dean, who was still snoring his head off.

"Urgh," said Seamus. His head hurt like hell, as if he'd been up the whole night drinking. "What the hell happened last night?"

His eyes searched the nearby vicinity and he found a small amount of pepperoni lying on the bedside table. That must have been where he got the awful salty taste in his mouth.

"I need a drink," said Seamus.

Reaching under his bed, Seamus pulled out a half-empty (or was it half-full?) bottle of Firewhisky and took a large swig from it.

"Give us some of that," asked Dean, who had just woken up.

Seamus passed Dean the bottle, and he took a swig from it before passing it back to Seamus.

"Can you remember what happened last night?" asked Seamus.

"Bits of it," said Dean. "I can remember playing Twister with the Ravenclaws, then some sort of wrestling, but that's all."

"Did we actually sleep together?" asked Seamus.

"I'm not sure," said Dean. "All I know is that I'm still wearing my pyjama bottoms, and they don't come off easily."

"Well I'm pretty certain I slept with someone," said Seamus, "but for the life of me, I can't remember who."

At that moment a yawn came from the other end of the bed, and young Dennis Creevey poked his head out.

"Morning guys," said Dennis cheerfully. "Boy, we sure had a lot of fun last night."

"Oh my God," said Seamus as he hid his head under the bed sheets.

"Can you remember what happened last night, Dennis?" asked Dean.

"Oh yes," said Dennis. "Almost everything anyway."

"So what did we do then?" asked Seamus, dreading what the answer would be.

"Well we played Twister, then we found out that the Ravenclaws were cheating, so we played Scrabble instead."

"And after the Scrabble?" asked Dean.

"Well the Ravenclaws cheated at that too, somehow managing to get a 500 point score using only a single letter," said Dennis. "So we got out the Monopoly board."

"Don't tell me those scummy Ravenclaws cheated at that too?" asked Seamus.

"Somehow they did, yes," said Dennis. "At one point they had ten hotels on Mayfair."

"Then what?" asked Dean.

"Then there was Battleships, Buckaroo, Hungry Hippos and some sort of table Quidditch game. By the time we finished all that, it was about three o'clock in the morning."

"So who actually won in the end?" asked Seamus.

"Well they won all the games, but everything changed when you decided to head-butt Michael Corner," said Dennis. "Then we all got into a big fight, wands completely disregarded."

"Please tell me we won that one?" asked Dean.

"Oh we did," said Dennis. "Three people against ten. It was a victory for the record books, especially after you whacked Terry Boot around the head with a telescope."

"Yeeeeees!" said Seamus, punching the air. "Mad for it!!!!!"

"Anyway we nicked their pepperoni off them and came back here for a little friendly game of wrestling," said Dennis. "And that's where my recollection ends."

After kicking both Dean and Dennis out of his bed and tidying his bed linen to some sort of normality (with his bottom sheet half off the mattress and pillow lying on the floor), Seamus went down the staircase to the common room. Halfway down, he was greeted by the smell of cinnamon, which didn't do any favours to the wobbly feeling already in Seamus' head. Picking up the pace, with half a mind to kick the crap out of whoever was responsible for the odour, Seamus entered the common room and saw something he'd never thought he'd see in a million years - Harry and Draco drinking tea in delicate china cups, sitting in the lotus position.

"What the fuck is that Slytherin bastard doing in our common room?!" shouted Seamus.

"Hey relax, Seamus, my good friend," said a very mellow Harry. "Draco has seen the light and is our friend now."

"He might be your fucking friend, Harry," said Seamus readying his fists, "but that mother-fucking twat ain't no mate of mine!"

"Language, Mr. Finnigan," said Draco, softly. "You need to chill out. Please join us and embrace the essence of Chai."

"There's no fucking way I'm sitting down with you, you bastard!" shouted Seamus, and he swiftly knocked the teacup from Draco's hands, causing it to smash on the floor, and then grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. With one fist drawn, Seamus aimed it directly at Draco's face. "Now you die!"

* * *

Ginny was in the Gryffindor girls' bathroom, busy cleaning herself of the half-giant blood she had spilled the night before. The blood was everywhere - in her hair, all over her hands, and her clothes were covered in it. Still, she didn't care one bit; it was simply a minor drawback to something that felt so good.

She had been murdering since the age of about three, once she could wield a knife properly. Her very first victim had been her uncle Bilius, who wouldn't buy her a chocolate frog when she wanted it. As far as the rest of the family was concerned, Uncle Bilius died twenty-four hours after seeing a grim, but in reality he died from multiple stab wounds to his back.

Her next victim had been her best friend, Rosie, when they were both five years old. Rosie had teased Ginny earlier that day, but she didn't live to see the next. Strangulation was her method of choice, which she had become very proficient at over the years.

Ginny murdered an average of ten people a year, but that was only counting humanoids. There had been countless animals she had brutally slaughtered just for the sheer hell of it, including several school roosters. Ginny had said that all the attacks in her first year were down to Tom Riddle controlling her, but that was a big lie. She did them all willingly in order to gain Lord Voldemort's favour. She even managed to persuade Harry into thinking that she was innocent. The fool.

Her last victim had, of course, been Hagrid, and she'd enjoyed every single second of it. As soon as that fat git fell onto the floor, her latest assignment from Lord Voldemort was complete.

After cleansing herself of all the blood, Ginny left the castle (ignoring the tussle between Seamus and Draco in the common room), and ventured out into the woods, ready to find out from her Master who her next target would be.

* * *

Lav and Pav were in the Gryffindor common room discoursing over an article entitled 'Oak, Beech, Willow or Christmas - which tree is really the thickest? And does the size really matter?'

"Personally Lav," sniffed Pav, "I really think I've been setting my sights on this shower of shite for far too long. I mean, look at this new wizard. He's 24, his name is Phil and he's never going to get married. But he's stinking rich. I mean he's just not met me yet. Look at the size of his wand!" trilled Parvati.

"Only eight inches? Hardly worth bothering about really. I mean I heard tell that one of the M's in Arizona was the owner of a thirteen-inch! Enough to make any man feel inadequate." Lavender gazed at the article and continued to circle her fingers around the aforementioned eight-inch wand picture.

"Padma told me that in the Ravenclaw common room last night, a dark cloud hovered over the room. Blood was spilt that very night in the Forbidden Forest. That's what she told me. Apparently..."

A loud crack in the common room stopped conversation. Two drunken house elves, Derry and Wizzy were grief-stricken.

"We is telling you, misses, we is telling you. The butterbeer is run out. Is run out. Whatever is we going to do? Whatever is going to be happening? What if Miss Ginny finds out? WHAT IF WINKY FINDS OUT?!"

"WHAT?!" shouted Seamus, dropping Draco and running towards the house elves. "There's no fucking Butterbeer left?!"

"I'm sorry, sir," said Wizzy sadly. "All alcohol in the school has dried up."

"Bloody hell!" exclaimed Seamus. "Does this mean there's no cocking Firewhisky left either?!"

"I'm afraid so, sir," said Derry.

"What the hell is a foul-mouthed alcoholic Irishman like me going to do without booze?!"

"Remain sober?" suggested Lavender.

"You shut your mouth, bitch!" ordered Seamus.

"We could make our own," offered Harry. "Hagrid had a micro brewery and distillery in his hut, and he's not going to need them anymore."

"Then what are we waiting for?" said Seamus. "Let's go, you bastards!"

* * *

Firenze stared blankly at the sky over Trelawney's head.

"I'm getting something," she said, staring fixedly into the crystal ball.

"What? That Umbridge woman? What's she doing with those hor... Oh my!"

"Oh yes, the video," said Firenze, "Bane made lots of money with that on the Internet!"

"Erm, yes, well," said Trelawney zapping the remote, "I didn't know I had... AHHH..." Her voice became croaky.

"Red rum, red rum! I see... a large giant, no - half-giant, yes... in a large orange parker coat... brown trim."

Firenze fixed his eyes on her. She convulsed as she became more deeply entranced. He had seen this before. Soon she would become frenzied, acting out the drama she could see in her inner eye, playing all the personas and the commentators too:

"His words will go unheard. 'Hmm prmm mrr rmmplefrn,' he says...

What's that Hagrid? Stobalark'nroun'arrysumfinnf'nee's gownon? Still doesn't make any..."

The Giant intervenes to prevent the fight of the edibles, and lo, a tiny one appears, born of those who have thrice eaten muesli, and she has the Evil One's red eye on her...

Ohhwww, she kicks him in the nads... and owwhhh, that's gotta hurt. She spits-

"you bloody useless oaf, you always ruin everything."

His friends try to save him but succumb, for the pepperoni is too strong.

"Don't you see, since the beginning! He's buggered everything up! Remember in the Sorcerer's Stone, when he said he borrowed 'Young Sirius Black's bike'?
Sirius was still thought to have murdered your parents, Harry! He buggered it up! The whole plot of the third book- he's been spoiling it from the start!

Harry feels all fifteen years of repressed emotion well up, building, rising; taking five steps, running up to hammer Hagrid in the nuts.

"Sheesh! That left one won't come down for a while!"

And the young Malfoy shall cry hot tears- the secret longing to give the cuddly huge one a hug manifests and young Draco commands the crowd into a hush. "Hagrid, we're sorry..." WHACK!

Great sucker punch from the blonde Nancy-boy! The crowd goes wild as the giant drops to his knees.

But now the evil one takes the centre stage, she has - oh my- is that a two-by-four?

"WHOOOO-WOOO!"

"And it's off the top ropes! And a beauty! 'El Gigiante' will not be getting up from that one! And wait, that music? It can't be? It is! The Rock! Can you SMELLLLLLeLLLeLeLLLLLL!!!!!!"

"I can smell something Mean Gene."

"Oh and the Tootin' Trio are doing a number on the giant."

"I think it's a number two Mean Gene."

"You mean a figure four?"

"I think I know what I mean Mean Gene!"

"Oh- THE PEOPLE'S ELBOW! He's out of there."

"That's the right one too, Mean Gene, he won't be riding the hog for a while..."

Who's this? The one who harbours a secret bloodlust and she, no she's got the sledgehammer and NOOO!!!!

OH MY GOD THEY KILLED HAGRID!

This is carnage! They're in a frenzy - cut to commercials! CUT TO COMMERCIALS..."

Trelawney staggered to her knees. Firenze stared.

"Did- did I do it? Did I have a premonition?"

"No," said the centaur, "you just remembered what happened last night."

"Oh," said Trelawney, "bugger!"

* * *

Four Hufflepuffs sat by a table in what was probably the grottiest pub in London, located down a back street between Trafalgar Square and Piccadilly Circus.

Muggle-born Justin Finch-Fletchley normally wouldn't be seen dead in such a lowly drinking establishment, being more used to the refined wine bars and hunting lodges that his father used to take him to, but it was the only pub they could find that would serve alcohol to underage kids wearing bright yellow Quidditch robes.

"Whose clever idea was it to wear these stupid robes in the middle of London?" asked Hannah Abbot sarcastically.

"I just thought it might make a change," said Ernie Macmillan. "Plus I dropped sticky barbeque sauce down the front of my black ones."

"Well, you wanted to go to that restaurant and order spare ribs," said Susan Bones. "You should have just ordered a salad, like me."

"Well excuse me for ordering a proper meal," said Ernie. "Anyway, just because I had to change my robes it didn't mean you all had to."

"We just thought it was all part of your plan, Ern," said Justin.

"Plan?" said Ernie. "What plan?"

"Your plan," said Hannah. "You are supposed to be leading our group."

"I am?" said Ernie curiously. "I thought that Justin was the leader."

"Me?" said Justin. "You must be kidding. I haven't got a clue where we're supposed to find this Holy Kebab of Storge."

"Well you were the one who suggested we go to London," said Susan. "What was the thinking behind that?"

"That was nothing to do with the Kebab," said Justin. "I just thought we might all like to go shopping."

Justin pulled a small book titled 'The A-Z of London' from his bright yellow robes and opened it on the table.

"We're here," he said, pointing on the map. "There's a massive department store called Harrods over here... A big Virgin Megastore here... And Hamley's is here."

"Hamley's? What's that?" asked Ernie.

"It's a big toy store," said Justin. "According to the Times, they've just stocked it with some magic stuff."

"Magic?" said Hannah curiously. "That might be worth a look..."

The Hufflepuffs were blissfully unaware that they were the subject of intense scrutiny. At the bar, a thin, irresistibly good-looking young man was watching, quietly talking to himself like the only one in a chatroom.

"Trying to spend foreign currency! Huh! And who else would buy yellow rain macs? Bloody American mi..."

"But those macs aren't even waterproof."

"You're right. No hoods either. Really stupid. Who are they?"

"Wizarding kids. Hufflepuffs."

"THE STUPID ONES! It must be. Finally. The ones who can wield the Kebab of Stor..."

"SHHHH."

"It makes sense, the prophecy: 'they must be thick of head, for it lurks in the depths of stupidity. They will...'"

"We have to stop them..."

"WILL YOU STOP INTERRUPTING ME!"

The whole pub looked round at him. As if not to be noticed he muttered to himself, under his breath and hardly moving his falsely smiling lips.

"Get. Them. Drunk!"

The Hufflepuffs smiled as the kindly waiter brought them more drinks.

"On Tina's tab," he smiled politely.

* * *

Ron and Hermione were in the Gryffindor boys' dormitory, still bickering about their relationship.

"Look, just give me your honest opinion, Hermione," said Ron.

"Look, Ron," said Hermione. "I know all those magazines say that size doesn't count, but that's just rubbish. Size is EVERYTHING. That's why no girl is interested in getting into Harry's boxers."

"But I'm alright, aren't I?" asked Ron.

"Indeed you are," said Hermione, smiling impishly at Ron's groin and licking her lips.

At that moment Harry stuck his head into the dormitory. Ron quickly covered himself up, not wishing to embarrass Harry.

"Hey, guys," he said. "All the booze in the school has dried up, so a bunch of us are going down to Hagrid's hut to see if we can make our own. Want to come?"

"Sure," said Ron.

"Count me in," said Hermione.

The three of them joined Seamus, Draco, Lavender and Parvati in the common room.

"Hurry up, you bastards!" shouted Seamus. "It's been about half an hour since I last tasted some of that sweet nectar on my lips."

"What are you talking about, Seamus?" said a confused Lavender. "I just gave you a taste five minutes ago."

"I meant alcohol, you crazy bitch!" shouted Seamus.

The seven of them left the common room and made their way as quickly as possible down to Hagrid's hut. They broke in through the locked door and began to frantically search through the hut to find where Hagrid kept his equipment.

"Urgh," said Ron, as he was searching under the massive mattress that Hagrid used to sleep on, "this is disgusting!"

Harry curiously went over to see what the fuss was about and found Ron flicking through a series of magazines of giants in provocative positions.

"Giant porn?" said Harry. "That's just sick."

Harry picked up the large stack of magazines and threw them into the lit fireplace, carefully hiding one copy under his robes for future use.

There was a shout of triumph from the other side of the hut, as Seamus pulled back a sheet revealing the Distillery and Microbrewery. "Yes! We can finally make some fucking booze!"

* * *

Back in Hufflepuff, Eloise was still squeezing her spots when she heard a few first year Hufflepuffs entering the common room. Indeed, one of them was Sinead, the simple girl who got drunk on a mince pie spiked with sherry.

Eloise shuddered. For surely the Hufflepuffs that year were easily the thickest that had been allowed into the house for a generation.

Whilst squeezing a particularly pussy spot, she mused over her fellow Hufflepuffs in London.

"Those fools, running up a bill on Tina's tab. Those fools - no one knows that some months ago she made sure that Albert and Checkovski (Mrs. Norris' favourite student) would always pay. For she is smart, that Tina."

Squelch

"Aahhh," sighed Eloise, "there's nothing like a good squeezing session to get me in the mood for more mischief."

She rummaged under her bed and took out the 'eau de pepperoni' cologne. Liberally spraying herself in the odour, she sashayed out the door and made her way to where a certain Gryffindor floozie was entertaining Ludo Bagman and Archie, the wearer of the women's nightdress in the Goblet of Fire. She opened the door and smiled.

"Mischief managed," she murmured.

* * *

Viktor Krum slammed down his quill with relish.

"There! I haf finished my letter of proposal of marriage to my von true lurf, Hermiowninnygillyletusgodowntotheseeeeaaa. I am tired of vaiting here in ze cold of Durmstrang, and my piles can no longer bear ze hard chairs here."

He sealed the envelope with a cough and a spit, and summoned his owl.

Watching the owl wing its way through the chilly, cavernous hall of the school, Viktor sighed to himself.

"It is not fair that we haf so little here since Karkaroff went and scarpered. Why, I cannot make a living as a Quidditch player since these Nobby Stiles haf rendered me incapable of sitting on my Firebolt and instead haf to make do with teaching stupid students like Albert Molotov and Annette Carmodski Quidditch instead. I hear that there is a recent magical cure all for complaints of the rear in the form of a pepperoni. Preparation P, it is called. I do hope my contact in London, Checkovski, can help me."

Poor Viktor gingerly sat down on a cushioned chair, but winced when the cushion fell off, leaving him to sit on the hard wood instead.

"I need this Preparation P quickly, before my Nobbies thrombose and my arse drops off!"

* * *

On the friendly advice of the bar person, The Hufflepuffs staggered, somewhat worse for wear, to see the Muggle Prime Minister, using the magical back entrance in Luvacktu Alley.

"De... De... Death EATERS!" screamed Susan Bones.

The Hufflepuffs sprinted five minutes back to the Grimy's Tavern. Justin was the last in. The mysterious barman was nowhere to be seen.

"I-I'm so scared," said Hannah. "Death Eaters, just like in the books!"

"I thought we we're dead for sure," said Justin. "Those hats..."

With a loud clunk, something in Ernie's head clicked.

"De-Death Eaters? They weren't Death Eaters!"

"Then how do you explain the hats and red uniforms?"

"No, that's BEEFEATERS - I know because I'm going to be one. It's all I've ever wanted to do. It's a great job. You get to eat beef!"

The rest looked at each other in silence.

"But if you knew that, why did you run?"

"I... er... I thought it was a game."

"Well, I don't want to see Prime Minister Grant now anyway. He's probably busy with his house elf, Marteen, anyway," said Hannah, still in fear mixed with jealousy.

"But you remember what the bar person said? The Prime Minister is the only one who knows where the Storge artefact is! The Muggles keep it here to prevent astral spies and ghosts."

"-hic- I don' care bout no Shhtorge! I'm -hic- 'ungry. Le'shh get a curry," said Justin, who had been ordering doubles on the tab.

"I don't fancy curry," said Ernie, "let's go for something else instead."

"Bloody hell!" said Susan Bones, as the group crossed the road to the Greek take-away house. "We'll never find the Kebab of Storge!"

The neon sign continued to flicker above the kebab house, and every seven seconds, 'The Pillars of Hercules' flickered to 'The Pillars of Storge'. It all made sense, from the grease which obscured the window and the rotten stench which hung over the door - only the stupidest of the stupid would have eaten there...

Behind them Antonin Dolohov seethed and tore at his own hair. On top of being fired for using an unauthorised tab that could be traced back to shadowy Death Eater families, he had failed in the Dark Lord's mission.

The four Hufflepuffs entered the dodgy-looking Greek takeaway, which was so filthy that even rats and cockroaches seemed to avoid the place. Justin Finch-Fletchley had half a mind to contact his uncle, who worked in the public health department.

"I'll have an extra large doner kebab with salad, please," said Ernie, as he tried to read the illuminated menu board through the thick grease that covered it. "But no chilli sauce - it always gives me the runs."

Justin, Hannah, and Susan stood there looking at Ernie in disbelief.

"What? Did you three want something too?" asked Ernie.

"You're not seriously going to eat that thing, are you?" asked Hannah, as she watched the dirty-looking man behind the counter cut some meat of the revolving lump using an obviously filthy knife. "We only came in here to find out about the Kebab of Storge."

"Shhhhhh," said Susan. "Keep your voice down."

But it was too late, the man behind the counter heard her.

"The Kebab of Storge? How did you find out about that?" he asked.

"No she didn't say the Kebab of Storge," said Justin. "She said the 'Kebab of Forge'."

"She definitely said the Kebab of Storge," said the man. "Now tell me - how do a group of Muggle kids know about it?"

"We're not Muggle kids, with the possible exception of Justin, we're witches and wizards."

"Wait a second," said the man. "You're not all from Hufflepuff are you?"

"How did you guess?" asked Susan.

"The bright yellow robes and vacant expressions were a big giveaway," replied the man.

"Wait a second," said Hannah, her brain finally clicking in. "Does that mean you're a wizard?"

"Of course," said the man.

"But what have you got to do with the Kebab of Storge?" asked Justin.

"For many years now I have searched high and low for the Kebab in question, but I have always been unsuccessful. The only thing I am certain of is that the Kebab is somewhere in the city. Perhaps we can help each other in the search for it?" said the man.

"Sounds like a good idea to me," said Susan.

"Ok," said Ernie, "but let me finish my kebab first."