The Super Confidential Diary of Harry Potter

Day Eleven CoNtInUeD

Day Eleven CoNtInUeD!

7:14 AM

This was it. The Fellowship of the Bling was about to infiltrate the Ministry of Magic.

I walked inside and tripped. Damnit. So super embarrassing.

"What's the use of one fucking stair? They could at least have put a sign up or something like 'Watch your step!!' But no, they probably have a secret room where everyone comes and just sits and watches people trip on that goddamn stair. Then they have a nice little laugh about it and go about their day. Jesus Christ. I hate this place already."

7:15 AM

Hermione cleared her throat obnoxiously and pulled on my sleeve. "Wow, Harry, you really understand the plan don't you? We're supposed to be subtle."

"Who's not subtle now? My name's Dumbledore, bitch. You just about ruined it."

"Whoah," Malfoy said suddenly. "What was the plan again?"

"Shit, I forget too," I added.

"We just talked about this an hour ago," Hermione complained. "You have to be kidding me."

"I remember the plan," Dean offered.

"Thank God, well just do what you're supposed to do Dean, and we'll follow along."

7:16 AM

Dean just pulled down a ski mask and cocked (haha) Naomi. And in that instant, his aura turned from amiable but easily angered black friend to dangerous stranger. And I was afraid.

Hermione kept trying to pull me in a different direction, but my eyes were glued to that man in the ski mask. He spelled trouble. "Yo, Hermione, who is that?"

"Harry, that's Dean."

I giggled. "Why would Dean be wearing a ski mask? That's so silly."

"The plan?"

Then 'Dean' shot three warning shots into the air and yelled in a gruff voice, "THIS IS A STICK UP! NOBODY MOVE!"

The whole room froze. Wizards and witches dropped to the ground crying and screaming, wands forgotten in the mayhem. 'Dean' approached the counter where a secretary sat staring at him. He pulled out a bag and shoved it in her face and yelled slowly. "PUT THE MONEY! IN THE BAG!"

"Um, sir? This isn't a bank. We don't keep money in here."

"I SAID PUT THE MONEY BITCH!"

"Harry, come on!" Hermione tried to drag me toward Ron and Draco who were staring dumbfounded with their hands in the air.

"What are you doing?!" I screamed. "He said not to move!!"

"That's the distraction douchebag. Now we go find Umbridge and get the Horcrux."

I turned my attention back to the robber and the secretary. She was cowering with the gun in her face. "Really sir, I swear, we don't have any money back here."

"FINE. NOBODY MOVE!" He swerved around and shot three more times randomly, the bullets ricocheting off the ceiling and walls. "PUT YOUR SHIRT! IN THE BAG!"

"My shirt?" the secretary echoed, confused. "But why?"

"YO JUST DO IT BITCH. IF I AINT GETTIN MONEY I BETTA BE SEEIN SOME TITTIES. IN THE BAG!!"

Hermione made a sudden movement and 'Dean' swerved around and pointed the gun at her. "Don't take one step slut."

"Dean, it's me...Hermione?"

"I don't care if you're fucking Tyra even though that'd be really cool for me right now I said don't. take. one. step."

Hermione yelled. "THE PLAN DEAN! THE PLAN!"

"Bitch I plan to punch you in the face if you don't shut the fuck up."

Malfoy and Ron 'Ohhhed' and 'Burrnnnned' and 'Torched yo ass!' behind me. I grinned.

The robber was not as amused. "Ayo Posh, where's Beck? Where's he hiding? His soccer skills ain't much help now, ain't they?"

"Dude, I'm not really Posh. It's me, Ron."

"Ron you're ruining our cover! You might as well just point out that Dumbledore's dead and that since both you and Hermione are in this building, I'm probably Harry Potter. JESUS!"

People's heads lifted off the ground slowly as they read my nametag. "Hey, look at that guy's nametag!"

A redheaded bitch rose to a kneeling position. "That's not Dumbledore!"

"Dumbledore's dead!" someone else yelled. "That guy's a phony!"

"They already mentioned Ron and Hermione, so the only sensible conclusion is that must be Harry Potter under the cloak of a Polyjuice Potion!" a man said from behind me.

"You guys are stupid," I argued. "That's not right at all. Dumbledore's not dead."

"HEY WHAT YOU BITCHES CHATTIN BOUT THIS IS A FUCKIN STICK UP. IT AIN'T A PUBLIC FORUM WHERE YA'LLS GET TO VENT YO PROBLEMS AND SHIT. I'M STEALING SHIT. THAT'S WHATS GOIN ON AND YOU ALL BEIN REAL DISRESPECTFUL RIGHT NOW WHEN YOU NOT PAYIN ATTENTION TO ME. THAT'S NOT OKAY. AND I HAVE PATIENCE, Y'KNOW? LIKE I'M WAITIN FOR THIS CONVERSATION TO PASS, BUT U GUYS JUST KEEP ON GOIN. WHAT THE FUCK?! I'M JUST TRYING TO MAKE MY LIVING MAN, THIS IS SHIT THAT YOU GOTTA TAKE THE SPOTLIGHT AND FUCKING TALK ABOUT SOME OLD FAG WHO'S DEAD NOW AND IT DON'T EVEN MATTA SO IMMA SHOOT A BITCH AND I HOPE YOU ALL FEEL IT!" and then 'Dean' shot at an obese man with large nostrils.

"Dean, it's me! It's Neville!"

And then he shot again.

7:30 AM

One of the far doors opened and Dolores Umbridge stepped through. She looked pretty ugly and stuff I noticed. I wasn't into it.

"What's going on?" she asked. That bitch.

"HEY SHUT UP WHORE THIS IS A STICK UP. YO GIMME THAT NECKLACE IT LOOKS LIKE IT'S WORTH SOME MONEYZ."

"But I really like this necklace."

'Dean' walked over to her waving his gun like a gay-pride flag. He stuck it next to her head and said to her softly, "I don't care if that necklace was from your black grandma who was the only one in your family who treated you like a real nigger and made some mad good shepherd's pie when I was sick yesterday. I don't care if that necklace was from Jesus and he told you that if you lost that necklace, the world would come to an end because it needed to be handled very carefully and all that wine he made you would turn back into water and that would suck because you were planning a really elaborate dinner party for Saturday and that shit was important. I don't care. Give me that fucking necklace cause this is a fucking stick up bitch."

And so she gave him the necklace. He bolted fasta than a cheetah!

We stood there, amazed, as the Polyjuice Potion wore off. Umfridge gave me a look of pure loathing.

What does loathing even mean? I've read it so many fucking times that I just felt like using it. Holla!!

7:36 AM

Hermione followed him so I did too after I waved, signed a few autographs, and blew kisses. Why'd we go undercover again? It was so much more fun when everyone knew who I was!

Love being famous!! Teehee.

7:40 AM

The Fellowship of the Bling followed Hermione into a jewelry store around the corner where we found that robber, still in his mask, trying to sell the necklace.

"This is fucking from the Jurassic period in France, you know? Like the sixteen hundreds. Like that king Lewis, that guy wore this shit. I know, I know, it's a necklace right? He was gay. But he wore it and he was a king and this is worth a lot of gold don't mess man."

"Are you going to rob me?" The guy behind the counter asked nervously.

"DOES IT LOOK LIKE I'M GOING TO FUCKING ROB YOU?! CRACKA, JUST CAUSE I'M A BLACK MAN IN A CITY DOESN'T MEAN I'M ABOUT TO ROB YOU. RACIST! JESUS. I'M TRYIN TO MAKE A GOOD DEAL WITH YOU RIGHT NOW BUT IF YOU AIN'T GONNA TAKE IT THEN yeah I'm gonna fucking rob you man. So take it or leave it."

Hermione reached over and pulled his ski-mask off his face. It was Dean! Fresh faced and youthful. He blinked a few times, looked at us, looked at the Horcrux in his hand and then held it out to me.

"Yo Harry, here's the Horcrux man."

"Thanks Dean."

"No problem."

Then we did our intensely complicated handshake that Dean learned in the ghetto in the Bronx (!!) and we left the store.

7:55 AM

Walking and talking. Trying to figure out how to destroy this stupid necklace piece of shit.

"Oh no, where's Neville?!" Luna shrieked.

"That robber shot him," Malfoy replied with a smile.

"Dean shot him," Hermione corrected, annoyed.

Dean took out Naomi and shoved it in her face. "Whoah, Hermione, what the fuck are you talking about? You think cause I was the only black guy in the room that, 'Hey, he must have been the robber!' Well you racist. And I ain't into it."

GREAT. THANKS HERMIONE. That's all we need--a grumpy black guy with a gun. That's how numerous American presidents have been killed.

8:00 AM

Still walking.

Ginny asked, "So, like, are we going to get Neville?"

"He'll find his way," I responded intelligently, patting her breast with a knowledgeable air.

"Find his way where?"

"There."

Then she got all huffy puffy and fed up. What kind of answer do you want, Ginny? NO, we're not going back to Neville because it would be a waste of time, he's too injured to continue on, and I hate him. That's so lame.

8:02 AM

"Haha, you know what?" Ron asked.

"What?" I replied.

"Luna's the new Neville!!"

Everyone cheered and laughed and Luna groaned. "Luna's the new Neville! Hahahah!!"

"Oh God, that sucks for you," I said.

And with one member gone, the Fellowship marches on, unfazed.