The Lands of Harry Potter Clichés

Oops

I take a while to recover. Say, those characters disappeared rather quickly... This may just be a way for me to defend myself! -And others.

I sit up to the wall. (Not the phone.) I look at Slash-Harry's cloak that they had removed before disappearing. Again, I wonder how I can possibly fit into all of this. The only fics where I've been were all humour fics, and they were all written -partly- by me.

Have I ever done a cliché? Have I created some sort of new kind of author fic humour cliché? If I haven't, then how can I be in this place, and does this place have different -if any- rules surrounding me? And, -I wonder- can it control me?

I have scared myself enough. I realize how emotionally distressed I am, and I use my logical method.

Anxiety is useless. While you are here, you'd better shrug off your worries and keep on going warily while enjoying the view. This is a unique experience, after all.

I call this Philosophical therapy of mine the Pjakkur method. (My cat, remember?) He never worries about anything. He simply lies around like a cross between a polar bear and a lazy dog. It is my goal in life to be as careless and happy as he seems to be.

I stand up, take Slash-Harry's cloak and examine it. His wand! Can I use it? I suppose I probably can't... But this- this is the place where Newton's laws are broken! Perhaps a foreign muggle can use a wand here...

Well, I suppose nothing bad can come from trying it out on the strange piece of parchment.

I dig up the suspect and my Swiss Army Knife, just in case. Okay, what was it again?

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good." I tap on the parchment. It seems to be working... I put the wand between my fingers and look closer. Yes! It's the Map! It's a bit different from what I thought it would be like...

What's that smell? My subconscious asks me. It smells like- a wet dog? I look up. Er- The wand! There is some red and golden smoke coming out of it! I suppose I shouldn't have twirled the wand like that. Stupid habit.

Gryffindor colours? Dung. Oh, man! I hope I won't pass out again! Now where did I leave that door?

Programs

What, -what? Where am I now? Uh, I'm in a full classroom, on the floor behind the last row. No one's noticed me yet. Wow, I just discovered a spell! Hmm, potions class. Severus Snape is at his desk, going through some book the size of The Goblet of Fire -hardcover version.

I put the Map and wand into my backpack, Lavender Fuchsia.

A sixth-year Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger are goofing off. Hermione is waving her wand over their cauldron and pretending to be an old-fashioned wicked witch.

"Alakazam! Abra-kadabra, Shazam!"

Harry falls to the floor, giggling like mad. Ron doesn't get it. Snape seems annoyed,

"Potter, Granger. Five points off Gryffindor! Sit down, Mr. Potter.

A Slytherin Mary Sue in the front row stands up.

"Miss er..." He pauses. "-Aurora Garland, sit down." Snape orders her remotely.

She takes an odd moment to consider this but doesn't sit down. She adjusts her tiny skirt so that the ogling boys (And one ogling lesbian who's in the wrong classroom) can sneak a better peek at her underwear.

She begins,

"Professor, you are like, so unfair! You're always like, picking on those poor Gryffindors when they don't even deserve it! You're like, so mean, you greasy-haired, ugly old man! Why don't you take a shower?"

She now looks at Harry and his gang, expecting praise.

Professor Snape lifts one eyebrow. He says,

"Miss Garland, my hair is my own business and no-one else's. It's the way it is because I inherited an unlucky gene or two. Showering makes very little difference, you soulless fool. I am a little over thirty and I think your concept of age is either underdeveloped or fairly twisted. I need not explain the points I took off Gryffindor, for I think even the Gryffindors saw why I had to do that."

I see Harry James nod slightly before he realizes what he's doing. Snape notices this too, and I can almost sense his surprise.

"You must have detention for this foolish behaviour. Go to Filch's office after dinner tonight."

Garland -the Mary Sue- seems to be trying to process this unusual data. Her body is frozen in an expression of disbelief and surprise. She opens her mouth,

"Bad command or file name.

Bad command or file name.

Bad command or file name.

Bad command or file name..."

She then explodes in a cloud of bubblegum pink. My theory is that this Mary Sue had entered the wrong Land, just like the lesbian sitting beside Seamus Finnigan.

No one in this classroom (Except me) has a valid reaction for an exploding exchange student, and they all chant,

"This program has performed an illegal operation and will be shut down."

While I hear them repeating this, I run out of the room and shut the door. There is a subtle 'pop' and some smoke comes out of the keyhole and base of the door.

"Sacre bleu!" I exclaim. I'd better find Halla and Gracie before something worse happens!

Minerva McGonagall walks down the dungeon towards me with a stern expression on her face. I take no chances. I make an unimpressive high kick at the poor, innocent air while singing,

"Þó deyi aðrir dánumenn,

Loff, Malakoff!

Hann Þórður gamli þraukar enn.

Loff Malakoff, mala, lifir enn hann Malakoff þó læknar vilji flens' í Malakoff, Koff, Koff! Þó lifir Malakoff, þó lifir Malakoff."

Just in case, I run up to McGonagall, take off her hat, and tell it,

"Being a man has nothing to do with fighting; you're getting masculinity mixed up with moronity or something."

She falls to the floor and fades away. I look at the owner-less hat.

"Svalt!" I put it on.

D'arvit! I forgot to make a disclaimer! Well, I'll start with my usual:

Disclaimer: If Joanne (K.) Rowling doesn't own it; AOL-Time-Warner owns it, one way or another.

Well, I stole a quote from Gorillaz and I tend to talk about various bands whenever I get the chance. Let's just adjust our point of view so that Time-Warner-AOL really owns Britain. Okay?

I'll be stealing "rufus" from Heidi Barnhart anytime now...

I stole "Introduzione" from XXX Rottweiler. What's it to you? Blö-blö-blah!

Claimer: I own The Wall, Lavender Fuchsia, Pjakkur, (Though no one really owns his or her cat. They are our masters. -According to them anyway.) Er... and I own most of the things in Lavender Fuchsia. Iceland owns Icelandic. I am an Icelandic taxpayer, so I guess that I own Icelandic.

Marauders.

Well, then. I'm in the dungeons. How do I get outside? I slap my forehead. The Marauders' Map! I open Lavender Fuchsia and pick up the Map. How does this thing work? Er...

I study it for a while. It sort of looks like 3-D, but it's all from one perspective. It looks as if someone has used a big knife to cut the top floors and towers of the castle away, leaving a couple of storeys partly visible, and then taken a picture of it all from 15 meters (about 45 feet) above the lower storey. I can see the library and into what seems like the Ravenclaw Common room and dormitories.

I read the names by the moving dots. Cho Chang, another Cho, a third Cho, four Hermiones in the library, a few Mary Sue-ish names scattered around... A Draco Malfoy dot and a Ginny Weasley dot are suspiciously close to each other in a room I don't recognize, near the Ravenclaw common room.

"How do I work this?" I ask the air I kicked earlier. The air doesn't respond. Perhaps it's mad at me for kicking it. I don't care.

I guess I could try the wand... I put down Lavender Fuchsia, sit down and dig Slash-Harry's wand up. I hold the wand in my right hand and the Map in my left one. I have an idea.

"Marauders?"

Nothing happens.

"I summon Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs!" I command the Map.

Success! Writing appears in the bottom margin of the Map,

"Yes, muggle?"

"How do I change the point of view when using the Map?" I ask them.

"The Marauders wish to recognize your intentions." Annoying little Gryffindors. I sigh and say,

"It's none of your business, but I'll tell you anyway. I need to find my two best friends and get out of this place."

"Padfoot wishes to know if you are a Slytherin." I've never been sorted, so I guess I'm not an official Slytherin.

"I've never been sorted," is all that I say.

"Prongs wants to know whether you are evil."

I've wondered about that myself. I take a little risk by saying something I've said before,

"What is your definition of evil? Believing that bravery doesn't exist? The urge to kick people who don't understand you? Bad temper? Actually kicking insulting idiots? Violently throwing a kid who's two years younger than I am to the ground because he said he was going to strangle a cat that I happened to like? Being a descendant of Egill Skallagrímsson? If so, then colour me green and stamp me guilty!"

"..." I wait patiently for them to sort it out.

"The Marauders wish to say that to use the Map, you only need to touch it with your wand and drag the picture." I ponder this.

"Eh?"

"You'll figure it out."

Okay... I touch the Map with the wand and move it up, across the parchment. The point of view moves with the wand point.

"Thanks, guys."

"The Marauders wish to inform the muggle that this was not troubling at all."

"Whatever."

I move the wand around and look for Halla and Gracie. I begin by finding myself. I'm on the same level as the Potions classroom. After a minute, I see that they aren't inside the castle at all. I search the grounds, which is very difficult because of all those 'people' around. My friends aren't there either.

What about the forest? Yes! There's Gracie, a short distance away from Hagrid's cabin. And Halla's dot is moving fast towards Gracie. Gracie's dot is still, and next to her, there are the dots of a Draco Malfoy and an obvious Mary Sue, Jasmine Cleo. Oh, now I see why Halla's running. A Snape is following her. I'd better hurry.

I tap the Map. "Misconduct managed." I put the Map and wand back into Lavender Fuchsia.