Neville Longbottom and the (Pink) Cake of Doom

Neville Longbottom and the (Pink) Cake of Doom

The Sorting Ceremony and Welcoming Feast of Harry Potter's fifth year had just ended with a bang. Literally. A cake had exploded. A CAKE had exploded. In Dumbledore's face. As he had wiped the pink icing from his face, the whole school caught sight of the Dark mark hovering over the cake. (It was pink and yummy. Did I mention it was pink?) The children had all jumped and screamed in a hysterical panic, especially the newly sorted first years. What a way for them to start their wizarding life!

Only after the cake had been removed by apologetic house-elves and Snape had shot everyone steely glares filled with loathing and anger did they begin to calm down, and Dumbledore stood to address them, still trying to lick a dab of icing from his beard.

"Now we must call together the heirs of the founders," said the good Professor, tying to be mysterious and solemn but failing miserably when he discovered that a piece of pink icing still adorned his wrinkled forehead.

Minerva McGonagall, sitting beside him, handed him a piece of paper. "I will read them out, and you will come to the platform. Together, you will vanquish all evil! Muahahahahahaha! " He coughed apologetically.

"So, to continue," Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were already out of their seats. They knew that in every piece of fan fiction, they WERE the heirs. But this wasn't just any fanfic. "the heir of Gryffindor is...Neville Longbottom!? " Dumbledore squinted at the page, while Harry let out a bellow of rage.

"But I'm supposed to be the heir!" he whined pathetically.

"Ouch, Potter!" Malfoy's job was, after all to be an asshole, wasn't it?

And what was Neville's reaction to this? He sank low into his chair, away from the inquisitive stares of his fellow students, and whimpered. "Oh bugger!"

Now Dumbledore cleared his throat for silence. "Mr. Longbottom, if you would be so kind as to come up to the platform?"

Neville was frozen.

Snape's voice rang out clearly in the hall. "Well, what is keeping you, boy? You're supposed to be saving the world! My, my, you'll never live up to my dear Harry-Poo's reputation. And I bet no one will buy the books if they rename them Neville Longbottom and the Cake of Doom!"

Suddenly aroused, Neville walked up to the High Table. "Harry-Poo? But I love y-y-yoooouuuuu! " He burst into tears and fell to his knees in front of his professor, while Snape looked down, bemused. Suddenly Neville stood, though, and wiped away the crocodile tears. "OK, enough." He walked up to the table and sat down.

"Well, after that, ahem, interesting and...informative diversion," said Dumbledore, "let me continue announcing the other heirs. The heir of Ravenclaw is...First Year!? "

"So, what's his name?" Hermione was upset. Wasn't she supposed to be the heir of Ravenclaw? After all, she was the SMART one!

"That is his name." Dumbledore was stroking his beard thoughtfully. "First Year. Could the Ravenclaw student First Year come up to the table?"

To the great surprise of the whole school, a tall, well built young woman made her way up to the table. She could not have been less than 17.

"I thought you were a first year!" hissed Hermione, still livid.

"No, no," explained the capable lady, as if she were addressing a small child. "That's my name. I am a seventh year."

"Very well," said Dumbledore impatiently. "Are you coming or not?"

"Yes, yes, of course." She made her way to the table quickly and sat beside Neville, laid a hand on his thigh, and began to flirt outrageously with him. The entire school turned away from this sight, repulsed, and Dumbledore suddenly found that he had managed to secure the complete attention of the entire school without actually having done anything.

"All right then, the heir of Hufflepuff should surprise no one. It is our own, Argus Filch!"

The silence was deafening. Filch, with a crooked smile, moved to sit beside First Year, who turned away in disgust at seeing his unpleasant leer. Ron and Ginny simultaneously whispered, "Good God!", and the yells of protest crashed like a wave over the hall full of students.

"What the hell...he's a squib...disgrace to our house...he can't be serious! "

"Now, now children," said the august Headmaster. "Quiet down. I'm sure you will all learn to love Argus dearly when you get to know him."

"Not bloody likely," murmured Neville.

"Well, shall we proceed? Our last and final heir, the heir of the infamous Salazar Slytherin is...Tom Riddle! "

And, lo and behold, there appeared Voldemort! Oblivious to the screams of the students, he turned and smiled at Dumbledore, and laid a hand on his arm. "Come, my dear Dumbledy," he crooned sickeningly. "Let us tell the children about our marriage."

"Very well, Tom," said he. He turned to the students. "Everyone, I married Voldemort yesterday, and he is pregnant with twins..."

...Harry woke up in a cold sweat. Thank god that had been a nightmare!! He rolled over, breathing heavily, and screamed. He was in bed with Severus Snape.