Harry Potter and the Pepperoni of Doom!

Chapter Ten

In the foyer of the Ministry of Magic, Ernie was busy throwing up in a bucket, while Hannah was sorting through a large stack of paper copies in her hand.

"Hang on a second," said Hannah as she tried to make sense of the paperwork, "just where are we supposed to go now?"

"Don't you remember?" asked Justin. "First of all the guy at the security desk told us we had to go to the offices on the second floor and ask for form 21B/7896T. Then we had to take it to the fifth floor and to get form THX1138. Then we had to take that form and take it to the second floor in order to receive form 0222K33232Y839263C..."

Hannah shut off her brain for ten minutes while Justin waffled on.

"...And then we got form 67HJSS124 from the second floor which we need to take to the security guard here in the foyer," finished Justin.

"You mean back where we started?" asked Hannah.

"Yeah. Isn't bureaucracy wonderful?" smiled Justin.

Hannah, Justin and Ernie went over to the security desk and shoved the last form in front of the man stationed there.

"Can we have the bloody thing we've been searching for now please?" demanded Hannah.

"Sure," said the man reaching under the desk and producing something wrapped in greaseproof paper that emitted a mouth-watering smell. "Here - one Kebab of Storge."

Hannah snatched the kebab from the man's hands before bitching about all the work they had to do to get it.

"Great," said Ernie, having just finished with the bucket. "All we have to do now is find where the hell Susan got to."

* * *

Neville was glistening, like a celestial body, sweating from all his extra effort. He had tried using his fingernails and his teeth to tear into the wrapper and claim his prize. His brow was furrowed in absolute concentration. Lavender and Parvati were getting restless.

"You're certain you don't need any help?" asked Lavender.

"Nonsense!" said Neville with the wrapper firmly gripped between his fingers and his teeth. "I've done this countless times, you know."

"Really? Do tell!" said Parvati shrugging her shoulders at Lavender. It appeared they were going to be waiting for a while, and as far as the both of them knew, Neville was biggest virgin this side of the Blessed Mother.

"Remember the Yule Ball?" said Neville.

"Yes," both girls answered at once.

"Well... I was Ginny's first."

"First what?" asked Parvati.

"Shut up, Pav!" giggled Lavender. "Right, you were Ginny's first and Harry has blue eyes!"

"It's true!" Neville blushed, "As a matter a fact I- Ha! I've done it! Stupid wrapper. I believe we can finally get down to business, yes?"

"About time!" Parvati whined. She had noticed that Neville was at half-mast and wondered how long it would take for him to turn from a peashooter to a weapon of mass seduction.

"There are two. And they're different colours!" Neville gleamed with excitement.

"They do come in different colours, you know," said Lavender, still a bit sceptical of Neville's self-proclaimed prowess.

"Ah... Well. I've never really liked to use these anyway. I'm into all things natural. You know, Herbology and all that."

"Mm-hm. Right."

Neville turned a deeper shade of pink. "So. A yellow one and a red one. Which should I use first? I bet the red one is strawberry-flavoured, eh?" Neville said this last sounding a bit more hopeful than he wanted.

Lavender was not buying into any of this. She was about to tell Neville where he could stick the red one, when Parvati piped up.

"Ooo! The yellow one! We can say it's in honour of our friends in Hufflepuff."

"Yes. Won't Hannah and Susan be jealous?" Lavender droned mechanically.

"All right! Well, here goes nothing!" said Neville, fumbling about himself with the sheath in much anticipation.

The mood changed in a blink when a loud squawking filled the room. Feathers exploded everywhere.

"ACK! Get it off me!" Neville yelled. He was beginning to hyperventilate.

"Holy shit! What on earth is that?" Parvati whispered, trying not to further upset the balance of the universe.

Lavender gasped in horrific disbelief at first, and then laughed and pointed at Neville, who was being pulled to and fro by what appeared, to her, to be some sort of chicken.

"A Canary Creme Condom?" Lavender asked, trying to catch her breath.

Parvati squinted at the bird flopping its wings, clucking and squawking about where Neville's crotch was supposed to be. "Is that a chicken or some sort of rooster?"

"Get this damned bird off of me!" squeaked Neville. "I swear - I'm going to kill Fred and George!"

Lavender was doubled over with laughter. "Neville. You ha- you have a- you have a pecker for a pecker!"

Neville burst into tears. "Why does this always happen to me?"

* * *

Ron just realised that there was another book lying beside Hermione's limp body. Picking it up, Ron found it to be the Kama Sutra he had bought her for her birthday in the hope of spicing up their sex life. He didn't get a chance to look at it in the place he bought it (an area concealed by a curtain at the back of Flourish and Blotts), and so ogled the erotic pages now.

Page thirty-five, entitled 'The Super Nova', was most interesting and seemed to require a hefty amount of agility to pull off. He would have to remember that one for later, and so he folded the corner of the page so he could find it more easily.

Ron turned his attention back to Hermione and he panicked, as frankly he didn't have a clue as to what to do. Hermione was always the one who knew which course of action to take, but she wasn't going to be much help this time. Harry was the only other person who could provide an answer, but Ron didn't have a clue where he was.

Suddenly he heard a lot of screaming from somewhere upstairs. He ran to the base of the staircase to try and pin point the screams more easily. They seemed to be coming from the girls' dormitory. Ron had learned from experience that if he tried to go up the stairs to the girls dormitory he would be kicked out by magic and so didn't try it immediately.

"I can't get it off!" shouted the unmistakable voice of Neville.

If Neville could somehow get up there, then Ron theorised that he could as well. He had to risk it, for Neville's sake, and there might be damsels in distress that would appreciate a masculine touch. He ran up the stairs, all the while expecting them to turn into a slide, but he managed to reach the top. The stairs had not changed at all.

"Weird," Ron thought to himself.

He flung open the door of the girls' dormitory and saw something truly hilarious - Neville had fallen for his brothers' Canary Cream Condom gag. A half-undressed Parvati and Lavender were in hysterics. Ron broke out in a fit of laughter.

"Get it off! Get it off!" Neville pleaded desperately. "It's starting to feel numb!"

After laughing like mad for five minutes, Ron regained his composure and tried to help his friend.

"Just calm down, Neville," said Ron. "You remember Devil's Snare? The more you struggle, the worse it gets."

"I thought these things wear off after a few seconds," said Neville. "It's been ages now."

"This must be one of those prototype ones that lasts for days. I was unfortunate enough to be an unwilling test victim for them, so I know how it feels. First off all my mum tried to get it off, but, no matter how hard she tugged, she couldn't seem to jerk it off. In the end we had to use lubricant, which we found on Ginny's bed side table."

"And did that work?" asked Lavender curiously.

"Actually, no," said Ron. "Each of my brothers, and my father, had a tug at it, before we resulted to desperate measures."

"Desperate measures?" asked Neville fearfully.

"Yes," said Ron. "The only way we found to get it off was with the help of a woman's touch."

"But you said a minute ago that your mum couldn't do it," said Parvati, a little confused.

"That was because she was only using her hands," said Ron. "For it to work, a woman has to use her other means of 'giving a guy a favour'."

"Oh!" said Lavender, as she finally understood. "So that means either me or Pav has to..."

"Yes," confirmed Ron. "Who wants to give it a go?"

Lavender and Parvati tossed a coin for it. It was up to Lavender to free Neville's member from its poultry prison. She got down on her knees and started work on the cock.

"Oh, by the way," asked Ron to Parvati as they watched Lavender getting down to work. "How comes me and Neville could get up here? Last time I was with Harry, the stair turned into a slide, preventing us from getting here."

"It's simple enough," explained Parvati. "That trap is just there to stop Harry from getting up here. You just got caught up in it too. You, and any other boy, can come up here freely."

"Oh," said Ron.

"There's something I'm a little curious about, Ron," mused Parvati. "Which woman choked the chicken off you? Was it your mum? Or was it Ginny?"

"That," said Ron, "is something I take with me to my grave."

* * *

Draco was lying helplessly on the velvet-lined desk in his father's office, his arms and legs restrained by magic tentacles designed explicitly for this purpose. He was completely naked, apart from his underwear.

Netty continually circled the desk, pepperoni in hand, surveying her love slave from every angle. "So," she said playfully, "are you ready to submit your will to me?"

Draco was lost for words. He was always on the other side in these types of situations, and it was a bit bewildering to be the slave for once.

"Will you submit?" asked Netty nicely. "Or shall I continue with the pepperoni treatment?"

Draco raised his head slightly in order to get a better look at his tormentor. This was the first time he'd ever looked at Netty properly, and he wasn't disappointed by what he saw. As far as he knew, the camera phone was still recording, and he thought that Harry and the gang would be just as satisfied with seeing him and Netty get down to it. He made up his mind. "Sure," he said, "I'm yours to do with as you wish."

Netty didn't waste any time. Ripping her robes off with one fluid motion, she straddled Draco's semi-naked frame. "Now," she said forcefully. "Tell me how sexy I am."

Draco looked at her directly in the eyes. "You're so damn sexy. So very, very, sexy!"

"Talk dirty!" demanded Netty. "Tell me what you'd like to do to me!"

"I want to fuck you till it aches!" said Draco. "I want to give you pleasure beyond anything you'll have experienced before!"

"Excellent," smiled Netty.

Netty attempted to take off Draco's underwear, unaware that Susan was stirring nearby. She stared at the prize she had just revealed, and was just about to get stuck in, when -

"Get away from him, you bitch!" shouted Susan.

"You can have him," retorted Netty staring at the foul brown mess of a 'prize' she was almost stuck in.

The camera was perfectly placed to capture the massive shite which had made Draco's pants so hard to remove.

"Wow," said Susan "he must really be scared of pepperoni..."

They stared at each other.

"That's some body you've go, Netty. With the right pepperoni vapour, a girl could turn..."

"All that's turning in this vapour is my stomach!" said Netty, re-robing. "Let's get the Knight Bus."

"Bye, Draco," said Susan, remembering a dream she had earlier, as she picked the rest of clothes from the floor, "and you can keep your pet Rock..."

* * *

Harry stared at the body of Tonks, in the disguise of Hagrid, lying lifelessly under the meteorite the size of a small car. There was no doubt she was dead, as the pool of blood trickling out from under her testified to the fact.

"Thank Merlin she's finally dead," said Harry. "I was getting really sick and tired of hearing her say 'wotcher' every five bloody minutes. What was she on about with all that chapter 6/7 business anyway?"

"Oh that," said Colin. "Ok let me explain. Here goes..."

Five minutes later, Colin had finished his tale of intrigue and betrayal. It basically involved Harry seeing Dumbledore's memories about how he escaped from Voldemort. Despite being well written, it didn't make any sense to the here and now. Parts of it seemed to have been recycled into the proper story anyway.

"Oh," said Harry. "That was interesting."

Harry then noticed Blaise Zabini approaching them, hobbling along with one of his legs obviously broken, supporting himself with a broomstick. Harry hated Slytherins as a principle, but he couldn't just leave him here like this.

"Er... Blaise, is it? Are you ok?" asked Harry.

"I'm ... I'm f-fine," slowly panted Blaise. "Harry, I n-need to ... to ... talk to y-you."

"Whoa! Slow down!" said Harry. "You're going a mile a minute."

"S-sorry," apologised Blaise. "I.... s-shall t-talk.... s- s- slower."

Colin butted in. "Sorry, Blaise, but whatever you're going to say, it'll have to wait until the sequel. We want to wrap this story up as quickly as possible, and this subplot of yours just slows things down."

"Colin's right," agreed Harry. "It seemed a good idea at the time, but now it's just a time waster. It's a pity though, I was really looking forward to Phil's segments of writing on this subplot, but I guess we won't see that until the sequel."

Blaise shrugged, straightened himself up, and stopped pretending he had a broken leg. "Ah, whatever." He stuck out his wand out in front of him and wished for a ride.

Moments later, the Knight bus turned up. Stan Shunpike stuck his head out of one of the windows.

"'Ello, Blaise," said Stan. "Where to?"

"Just take me out of this story, and don't bring me back until the sequel."

"A 'Needless plot line put into a sequel' ticket then? That'll be one galleon and two sickles please."

Blaise reached into his pockets and pulled out the correct change. He hopped onto the Kinght bus and waved hello to Netty and Susan. It took off with a bang, leaving Harry alone again with Colin.

"Right, Colin," said Harry, "now that's out of the way, where this place in the forest you wanted to show me?"

* * *

Viktor skulked his way down the corridor in desperation and madness. He ceased his murmuring, certain someone was behind him.

Darting into a corner, he enclosed himself in the gloom between two suits of armour. He saw a shadow briskly moving along the wall and froze, praying his 'hermiroids' would allow him to remain silent until his pursuer passed. But as the shadow grew closer, the pain grew greater and greater. He was about to burst out. The shadow slowed and stopped.

He held his breath, trying to make out who his pursuer was, but could see no one. He heard a dark, low mocking laughter as he squinted, but saw nobody still, casting a long, and menacing shadow. An Invisible? Krum was an international Quidditch star; not very bright, but with agility and reflexes to match anyone in the world.

The scandal might destroy him, but he could not hold still any longer. He jumped out of the gloom and launched a helmet at the exact spot where the person casting the shadow must be. His spatial awareness never faltered, but his eyes registered that he had hit nothing before his mind could register a thought.

At the speed of darkness, the shadow darted to the spot where the helmet was to hit the wall, and cushioned it, seemingly suspending it by its own silhouette.

"Be quiet, you fool!" said the shadow, revealing evil blank eyes, glaring predator-like at him, and causing his bowels to relax for the first time in an age. "Do you want to attract attention?"

The quivering Krum knew whom he was faced with even as he asked the question: Molotov.

"You may address me only as M," snapped the shadow. The eyes dissolved into the shadow, as did the helmet. Then the shadow faded.

Viktor turned round, jumping a mile when he noticed the helmet back on top of the suit of armour. He filled his pants again. He noticed that the sensation was warm and soothing. He wished he had known about this before he had murdered his true love... he thought about this as the darkness closed in on his sight, and he was taken through networks of the shadow dimension.

"Jimmy, Krankie, I want you to hurt yourselves, really badly, with these implements," said a voice, as the darkness cleared in the Slytherin common room, where a devilish kid, stroking a contented Mrs Norris on his lap, was relishing the torment of the house elves: They could not disobey without being forced to punish themselves. Krum realised he was dealing with pure evil, though the child looked only ten years old.

"Good evening comrade Krum! It is many years since we met! How long has it been since I last bested you on the Quidditch field?"

As their eyes met, Krum realised who it was, but, it was impossible...

"You're an Agimagi?"

"Yes Comrade," said Checkov, aging ten years before his very eyes. "Here is your preparation P."

Krum looked at the small jar. As much as he needed this, he wondered if it was worth it. A tear dropped from his eye onto the bottle. Poor Hermione.

"Thank you comrade," he said with the air of a man thanking the devil for the damnation of his own guilty soul.

Suddenly his piles flared up. "Arrghghhh!"

Checkov laughed as Viktor hurriedly dropped his draws.

"Ooooohhhhohhhh," said Krum applying the ointment.

Within moments, he was dead.

As our story hurtled on to its fantastic anticlimax, a low hollow laughter again rang out.

"Sometimes Albert, I think we're too good!" said Checkov, stroking the contented Mrs Norris.

Molotov stepped out from the shadow realm.

"I'll leave the body somewhere they can find it. They'll think he killed Hermione out of jealousy, and then, driven to madness by the agonies of grief and piles, poisoned himself."

"Too good! And without Krum and that know-it-all Hermione to reveal us, we can lie in wait unchallenged for the sequel"

Molotov laughed a small laugh.

"Checkov, do you never tire of all of this romantic irony and torture?"

Jimmy gave Krankie a desperate look, which seemed to say: 'Romantic irony is a literary device, when a writer interrupt the stream of narrative to address the reader more or less directly.'

'What, like at the end of Monty Python's Holy Grail?' was the sentiment that seemed to be written in the anguish of Frankie's tears.

"Never." said Checkov sharply, banishing the house elves. "But I guess at this stage in the game we'd better put an end to all the comic asides and cameos."

"WHAT?" yelled Phil, bursting out of his cunning morphed form as the common room table? (A useful disguise in his latest task, to hold coffee and biscuits)
"BUT I ONLY JUST GOT HERE! AND THERE'S GIRLS GAGGING FOR IT! FOR ME! "

"Mr Collins, please calm down. You're not in Genesis now you know!"

"Besides," said Albert with a wink, "don't you have a gig at Madame Rosmerta's?"

"That's right, Mr Collins, the Karaoke suite, page seven. Bags of groupies I'm sure. And take Huey, Dewey and Louis D with you!"

Checkov pointed to the Beastie Boys who had been sitting in the corner-playing scrabble waiting for their Cameos. They stood up, and with trademark Improv. Choreography, made their point.

H: "No more Cameos,"
D: "This is it I suppose,"
L: "We'll be back in the sequel to c-c-crack your toooooooes"

"DISSENDIUM-HOME" said Phil swizzing his wand, and in a huff, they were gone.

"Now," said Checkov, turning back into his first year guise, "we'll have to lie low too. How do you make an Anticlimax, Albert?"

"Easy!" said Albert dissolving into shadow once more with a wink. "Put her in the shower with an Irish Rugby Team..."

Checkov was left in the gloomy common room, an innocent looking firstie, feeding pepperoni to the purring pussy.

* * *

"It's over this way, Harry," said Colin pointing deeper into the forest. "Only another two hundred yards or so."

Harry was just about to go in that direction when he spotted Blaise's broom lying on the forest floor. He couldn't resist the temptation to go and have a look, and so he picked it up and examined it.

"Wow! A Firebolt!" exclaimed Harry excitedly. "And it's so much shinier than mine! At last I get to have something long and hard between my legs!"

Hopping onto the broom, Harry punched straight through the foliage that covered their heads and soared high into the air. Harry then did what he always did when he had completely unsupervised freedom on a broom, or anything else that could fly for that matter: He steered the broom towards the lake and flew just above the surface of the water so that only the tips of his feet got wet. Securing his legs round the broom so that he wouldn't fall off, Harry spread his arms high and wide.

"I'M THE KING OF THE WORLD!!!" he shouted, loudly enough so that anyone within a five-mile radius could have heard him.

Harry simply loved doing this, ever since his first attempt at it during a flying lesson. He had paid severely for it though, as Madam Hooch had taken ten points off him for straying out of bounds. A further fifty points had also been taken from him for a breach of a copyright by James Cameron, plus weeks' worth of detentions for such a rubbish and cheesy parody.

After he was the king for the tenth time, Harry decided it was probably enough. He flew back to the forest and found Colin again.

"Right, Colin," said Harry. "Let's get on with it."

Colin led Harry even deeper into the forest. They eventually came across a rather strange and beautiful tree. Harry could have stayed there for hours staring at its exquisite branches and probably could have though of a way he could become the king on it, but Colin drew his attention to an opening in the main trunk of the tree.

"In here, Harry," said Colin. "There's something really cool you need to see."

Curiosity took Harry over as he put one foot inside the tree and looked around its insides. Suddenly, Colin pushed him inside, causing him to stumble and cascade down the spiral staircase. Colin entered the normal way, and the doorway closed behind him.

Nothing could be heard in the tree, aside from a voice at the bottom of the staircase shouting "YOU BASTARD, COLIN!"

* * *

The Knight Bus began picking up speed.

"I thought we weren't showing up again until the sequel," said Blaise.

"FOOL!" snapped Netty, who had had a long day and just wanted to go to bed.
"The Knight Bus has magical warp capabilities. For all we know the sequel has already begun!"

"Typical" said Zabini "you wait six years for a plotline, then three come along at once."

Susan could not help staring at the Zabini Bulge. She dropped Malfoy's clothes, which nobody had seen her take.

"Not for you guys!" said the decapitated voodoo head that hung from the window. "The Hufflepuff has to die! Besides, I'm getting sick of all this 'pretension of disbelief' crap, and you're all going to die!!!!!!"

The Knight bus was now travelling at a suicidal speed towards the Ministry phone booth.

* * *

Draco regained consciousness and realised he was still trapped and nude. He looked around for a means of escape. Among the kinky items was a Star Trek jumpsuit.

"Bloody hell, Lucius, you are weird!" said Draco to himself. Which must have been Malfoy Snr's 'emergency stop word' as the table let him go and seemed to mutter 'is something wrong?'

Draco realised his clothes were gone.
He looked again at the Captain Kirk jumpsuit.

* * *

Hannah, Justin and Ernie arrived back in the phone box wielding the Kebab of Storge.

"So," said Ernie salivating, "this kebab has mystical powers of temporal and special displacement?"

"Er, yeah. What does that mean?" asked Justin.

"Dunno."

Hannah screamed: "Eaeaeaeaeaeaaaaaaah!"

The lads looked up and saw the Knight Bus veering manically toward them.

"Shiiiiiiiiiiiit!" yelled Draco who had beamed into the phone box right at that moment and immediately hit a bunch of buttons in an attempt to escape.

The Kebab of Storge was glowing.

* * *

"YOU BASTARD, COLIN!" shouted Harry, as he rubbed the massive bruise on his head. "WHEN I GET HOLD OF YOU! YOU MOTHER-FUCKER, I'M GOING TO RAM YOUR HEAD STRAIGHT UP YOUR ARSEHOLE!"

Harry was unaware that during his cursing he was being watched.

"Tut-tut, Harry," said a sinister voice from behind him. "What would your mother say if she heard that? Oh, that's right - she's dead."

Harry quickly picked himself up and turned around, and looked at the person from the feet up. They were wearing stiletto heels, a soft velvety evening dress over a shapely figure, and they had the eyes of the snake.

"Voldemort!" cried Harry.

Harry quickly reached into his robes and frantically searched for his wand. But it was nowhere to be found. Without a wand there was little chance of using magic, so he used the only weapons he had at his disposal - his sharp, and very girly, long nails.

But Voldemort was too quick. "Stupefy!"

The curse hit Harry directly in the face. Everything went black for Harry as he lost consciousness.

When he woke up, Harry found himself stripped naked apart from a towel covering his shameful groin area. He was chained up at his wrists, and was hanging from the ceiling of a delightful jazz club-cum-strip joint. Chained up next to him, in the same manner, were Dumbledore, Colin and Dennis Creevey.

"Ah, our guest awakes," said Voldemort playfully. "Ginny, fetch the Pepperoni of Doom!"

Harry didn't ask why Ginny was here, let alone why she was taking orders from Voldemort, and his attention was focussed upon the massive length of spicy meat that she had just unwrapped from its paper coverings.

"Here, Master," said Ginny, offering the pepperoni to Voldemort.

Voldemort looked delighted at the scene before him, as he brandished the pepperoni in his right hand and aimed it straight at Harry. "Now, Harry, the fun begins!"

* * *

"I want a double cheeseburger, onion rings, and a large orange drink," said Goyle. He and Crabbe had been down in the kitchens eating to their hearts' content, oblivious to absolutely everything that was not brought to them on a plate by a house elf.

They had been sprawled about on beanbag chairs for what seemed like hours, but what may have been days given the Confundus properties of the Pepperoni of Doom. None of the teachers seemed to give a shit about students missing classes anyway, as the authors found a Flitwick/Sprout side-plot to be utterly boring and a total waste of time, and so decided to do away with the staff except Snape and Dumbledore who is currently tied up.

"Please, sir," whimpered a ragged and exhausted house elf. "There is being no more foods in the cupboards, sir!"

"Completely understandable, my good house elf," said Crabbe cheerfully sipping some mulled mead from a bowl. "It's okay, Goyle. I'm certain our good friend here wouldn't mind bringing you some firewhiskey to soothe your aching gut."

"Please, kind sirs. There is being no more drink anywhere in the kitchens!"

Crabbe lowered his bowl and studied the quivering house elf before him. Surely there had been some mistake. The Hogwarts Kitchen running out of food and drink? The entire idea was preposterous! To be sure, he was not quite certain what 'preposterous' meant, but Crabbe was certain that there had to be something to eat somewhere.

"No. A double cheeseburger, onion rings, and a LARGE.... ORANGE.... DRINK!" droned Goyle, now shaking his fists furiously.

Crabbe nodded in agreement with his friend's assessment of the situation. "Well, you'll have to find something, right? I mean, we've asked for it and you have to give it to us. Surely there is some chicken lying about somewhere? Don't shake your head at me, I can smell it! We're asking, now give it to us!"

The house elves looked mutinous, breathing heavily and twitching about anxiously. Crabbe lifted himself off his beanbag chair and motioned for Goyle to do the same. If it was a fight the house elves wanted then a fight is what they would get.

Crabbe pointed his finger at the house elves threateningly, "The board of governors will hear about this! This'll mean clothes for the lot of you! You'll rue the day that you -"

"'Rue'?" asked Goyle.

Crabbe stared at Goyle blankly. "I'm going to tell my mummy and daddy on you and they'll fix you good!" The house elves moved in closer to the two wizards, picking up scattered pots and pans and assembling in platoon formation.

Crabbe decided it was time to make their exit. They had not seen any of their classmates in ages and the kitchens were in danger of quickly becoming a scene from Michael Jackson's 'Beat It' video.

"C'mon, Greg. I smell chicken somewhere in this damned castle. I think Longbottom has a frog, or something of the sort, and I hear they're supposed to taste like chicken...."

"You don't even have onion rings?" Goyle shouted at the house elves in disbelief.

They had just made their way through the door, Crabbe hastily dragging Goyle by the neck of his robes, as pots, pans, and wooden spoons exploded about the wall behind them.

* * *

Meanwhile, back in the Gryffindor girl's dormitory: -

After about forty five minutes of intense sucking, Lavender collapsed onto her four-poster bed, thoroughly exhausted but with a great amount of satisfaction displayed on her face. She had succeeded in her mammoth task - Neville was now free from the confines of the Canary Creme Condom.

Neville, now savouring his freedom once more, started to flick his manhood back and forth in his hand, delighting Parvati, but disgusting Ron.

"Put it away, for God's sake, Neville!" demanded Ron desperately.

"No, keep it out!" insisted Parvati. "Lav may have had her fill tonight but, I still need my portion of sausage!"

"But we haven't got time for that!" argued Ron. "Hermione is lying out cold in the common room at this very minute, and could be dead for all I know! We can't waste anymore time!"

"But if you were in such a rush," questioned Parvati, "then why did you spend the last three quarters of an hour watching Lav working on Neville? That didn't need your supervision."

Ron went quiet for a moment. Parvati was right - why had he wasted so much time? The only answer that came to his mind was - "Fucked if I know."

"Good enough for me," said Neville. "Now let's go and save Hermione!" he said bravely.

After everyone got dressed to an acceptable standard (no-one bothered to tell Neville that his flies were still unzipped), Ron, Neville, and Parvati left the dormitory and went down to the common room. They decided to leave Lavender to sleep of the massive poultry dinner she had ingested.

On arriving in the common room, Hermione's body had vanished. Only a badly scribbled note was left behind, stuck to the wooden windowsill by a fork that looked like it came from the kitchens. They all read it: -

Deer Griffindoors,

We have taken the muddblud called Hermyoknee Hermiohney Hermeoyne. For God's sake Goyle how the hell do you spel that persons name? I dunno know, Crabbe, you should've brought a quick quill that had a bilt in spell chequer. It wasn't mee that baught it, it wass a presant for my birfday. And now look what its doin - it's wrtitng evrything we say! We better stop talking! Oh shit!

We have the mudblod that hangs around with Harry and Ron, and are holeding her horstage. Heree are our deemands - two dozen chesseburgers, two dozen onyoin rings, and a gallon of orange drink. Meet us at the big tree in the forest. We will leaf you a trail to follow so you can finde it.

Reegards,
Two annnonymous people

Ron didn't bother trying to figure out how the two anonymous people actually managed to get past the portrait of the Fat Lady and made a plan in his head.

"Right," decided Ron. "We need to rescue Hermione!"

"But we don't have any burgers or onion rings or anything to trade for her," said Parvati. "Where are we going to get them from?"

"We're not going to trade with them, we're going to fight them!" declared Ron. "But first - let me get changed into something warmer than this dress robe and - Jesus Christ, I forgot about Cho!"

"And I'm not going without Trevor!" said Neville.

Ron and Neville ran as fast as their legs could carry them up the stone staircase to the boys' dormitory. Once there, it seemed Cho had left on her own accord and had taken all of Ron's his clothes with her, every single one of them. Meanwhile Neville was busy searching for his pet toad.

"That bitch has taken all my clothes!" shouted Ron angrily.

"And I can't find Trevor!" panicked Neville.

Ron, as usual when he needed something badly, searched through Harry's trunk to find what he needed. Nearly all of Harry's clothing, however, was far too small for his tall and lanky frame, so Ron took the only outfit that would even remotely fit him - a classic style gold Star Trek uniform. After a couple of minutes, Ron was fully dressed as a dashing Starfleet officer, complete with the rank bars of a lieutenant displayed on his sleeve.

"I still can't find Trevor!" panicked Neville once again. "I think he's been kidnapped!"

* * *

Crammed into the Ministry phone box, Hannah, Justin, Ernie and Draco were all shitting themselves at the impeding doom of the Knight Bus hurtling towards them.

Draco, deeply offended by the proximity of the unsightly bodies of the Hufflepuff half-wits, had just frantically dialled a random set of digits into the number pad of the phone, the receiver glued to his ear with his free hand.

"Get a move on, Draco!" screamed Hannah.

Draco was short on time, but he couldn't let such a flippant use of his name go unchecked. "That's Malfoy to you, bitch! Only my dearest friends get to call me Draco!"

The thought of Crabbe and Goyle, the only people that actually came anywhere near to being his friend, briefly crossed Draco's mind. 'I wonder what they're trying to eat now?' he thought.

At last the receiver responded.

"The number you have dialled has not been recognised. If the number you have dialled is correct, there may be a fault with the connection. Please dial nine now to contact one of our engineers. Have a pleasant day," said a cool female voice.

"Shit!" groaned Draco as he slammed the receiver back on the hook. He tried to think of another plan, but it was too late - the Knight Bus was almost on top of them. "Only a miracle can save us now!"

It came as a surprise to everyone when the Kebab of Storge emitted a bright, searing light that blinded everyone in the phone box. They lost all spatial sense for a moment, and when they finally regained their senses, they found themselves standing in the greasy kebab shop that the Hufflepuff had been in before. Apart from those that were in the phone box a moment before, there were four others - Netty Moss, Susan Bones, Blaise Zabini and a weird shrunken head that looked like it once belonged to a man from the Caribbean (complete with dreadlocks).

"Where the fuck are we?" exclaimed Draco. "What just happened?"

"You have all been saved by the mystical almighty powers of the Kebab of Storge," said a rough looking man from behind the counter of the kebab shop.

"And just what the hell is the Kebab of Storge?" asked Draco sceptically. "And where they hell did this lot come from?" He gestured towards the people (and head) that were not in the phone box.

"We were on the Knight Bus," said Netty. Susan and Blaise nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, Mon!" said the shrunken head in a heavy Jamaican accent. "And I was drivin'."

"But you're just a head," questioned Draco. "How could you possibly have driven it without hands or feet?"

"Don't ask that question, Mon," said the head. "This story is full of enough plot holes and inconsistencies as it is."

Draco realised one of his questions had been unanswered. "You still haven't told me what the Kebab of Storge is yet."

"It is an artefact approximately one thousand years old," explained the man behind the counter, "and it is the only thing known to be able to counter the Pepperoni of Doom."

"Call me ignorant," said Draco, "but what the hell is the Pepperoni of Doom? Does it have anything to do with all that pepperoni in the school that has been causing people to lose their memories?"

"The Pepperoni of Doom is a relic of immense power, capable of unspeakable acts. It also has the power to alter the laws of space and time..."

After about half and hour of explaining, everyone in the room was clued up about exactly what was happening with the Kebab and the Pepperoni. They all seem to realise now that their fates had been intertwined, and their sole purpose now was to take the Kebab back to Hogwarts in order to stop the Pepperoni from destroying the world. But there was one thing that no one seemed willing to do - actually carry the Kebab on the treacherous, hazard-filled journey north.

Aberforth had summoned enough chairs for everyone to sit on, and they all sat down in a circular formation around the Kebab, which was placed upon a pedestal. They sat there debating for hours about who would be brave enough to take the Kebab.

In the end it was Ernie Macmillan who volunteered.

"I will take it," he shouted over the din of the others. "I will take the Kebab."

"Excellent," said Aberforth. "But is not a journey you can make alone."

Netty stood up. "Then you have my wand," she declared, holding out her wand.

Blaise stood up and pulled a small bag out of his pockets. "And you have my bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans."

"And my..." began Susan, before realising that she didn't have anything on her. "And you have me!"

After a couple of minutes, everyone, including Draco, who had appointed himself the leader, had volunteered their services.

Aberforth looked pleased at the valiant group. "Then it is done. I christen this group 'The Fellowship of the Kebab'!"

"HANNAH WAKE UP! We're all about to die, horrible, crushing deaths, this is no time for sleeping!"

"What?" said Hannah, who was reviving from yet another delirious fit.

"You were murmuring about the sword of Aragon, or something. I told you not read that stupid book."

"If you guy don't mind, we're all about to die," sneered Draco, as the Knight Bus hurtled toward them.

"I MIND!! ", said Ernie, suddenly overcome with more heroism than any Hufflepuff had ever had, and yea, he raised the shining Kebab over his head and yelled.

Draco shit himself and pounded the buttons of the phone.

"The number you have dialled, has not been recognised..."

With a blinding, crunching flash, the Knight Bus collided with the phone booth and in an instant, all were gone.

* * *

"I didn't fink she'd come so easy" said Goyle as they dragged Hermione into the Forbidden Forest.

"It's my body. Coupled with my aftershave, she just couldn't resist."

"Still, I thought we'd 'ave ta hit her with 'the charmer'," said Goyle, stroking his massive club with an air of missed opportunity.

"Nope," beamed Crabbe. "My 'eau de Loomberzhak' by Fleur DeLaSoul in mock advertisers French. 'Leaves women powerless to resist,' also oxen and large mammals; can be fatal to small rodents'."

"CRABBE! She's dead!"

"Bugger!" said Crabbe, arriving at the tree. "Can we ravish her anyway?"

"That's a nice material," said Blaise admiringly. "Is it stage curtain?"

Justin stammered under Blaise's admiring gaze. "W-w-What? Where? How?"

"You don't remember?" said Draco "the crash? The flash? The Aha...slash?"

"N-n-no," said Justin.

"Well, that's probably due to the clocks"

"The CLOCKS!" said Zabini. "I love CLOCKS!"

"Quite. You see, as the bus collided into the phone both, the Kebab de-materialised us so we weren't hurt. We ended up on the bus, which ploughed though the Ministry like a knife through hot butter. We crashed through a room full of clocks, at which point all you morons started to lose memories and stuff.
In Susan's case, she saw the future when hit on the head with a clock, but in a mixed, delirious way."

"Anyway, Ernie, still with the Kebab saw some kind of egg, and recognising food..." Draco's mind flashed briefly to Crabbe and Goyle, whom he knew he would never see again, "... He jumped.

"The bus continued into another room, down into an amphitheatre and though an old crumbly arc, from which hung a tatty black curtain. A piece of which Justin now clutches. He valiantly tried not to pass through, and clawed at the veil. He must have sensed..."

Draco trailed off.

"Sensed what?"

"The curtain. It's curtains. For us. We're dead."

An eerie voice sang a sad song. The song was a melancholy rendition of a song by Cream, which only a Muggle-born could have known. Whose parents were dentists. It was all beginning to make no sense.

" In the white room with black curtains, life is over..."