Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince

Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince

Potter47

Two
The Half Blood Pince

In Hogwarts School of Witchcraft of Wizardry, there were quite a number of half bloods. In fact, they probably made up half the school! Get it? Oh, bother.

But only one of these half bloods happen to be the subject of this tale. You see, it had been foretold, by the centaurs, that the Dark Lord Voldemort would be defeated "One hundred-eighty moons after the first fall of evil..." After a great deal of calculations, it had been determined that this meant fifteen years after he first fell. Which meant, in turn, that Voldemort would be defeated during Harry Potter's sixth year at Hogwarts.

Now, it had also been predicted by the centaurs (and in the same breath, at that), that a mysterious figure known only as the "Half Blood Prince" would assist in the Dark Lord's defeat. Rumours spread throughout the school, and it seemed everyone had their own opinion on who it would be.

Neville Longbottom, for instance, was quite convinced that it would be his toad, Trevor. "He's half oak toad, and half cane toad!" said Neville excitedly. And the boy would watch his toad all day, and would let him go wherever he wanted, because he was clearly going to save all their lives.

Trevor, on the other hand, along with most (but not all) of the population of Hogwarts, believed that Harry Potter was the most likely candidate for the Half Blood Prince. After all, he's half blood, and who knows where he got all that money? Maybe he's royalty....

But Harry Potter, contrary to popular belief, was not the Half Blood Prince. He tried to tell everyone this, but no one would listen. After all, they reasoned, how would he know?

But Harry did know, because of the other prophecy; he couldn't possibly 'assist in the Dark Lord's defeat,' if he was the one doing the defeating himself. Only a small group of people believed him, namely the Weasleys and Hermione.

Hermione was not all that much better than Neville, however. She too had a very out-there suspect for Half Blood Prince. (Many of said suspects will be subjects of future HBPPs, though I doubt a single person remembers what the second 'p' stands for).

"It just has to be Crookshanks!" she would say, again, and again, and again. "You see, I've been reading up about cats, and it turns out Crookie is really half-Kneazle! So he's half blood, and he's always trotting around like a prince, so..."

But Crookshanks, too, was not the true Half Blood Prince. No one in the entire school, in fact, suspected the correct person (or animal). Not even Dumbledore, who was quite convinced that Fawkes had been lying about his heritage, had cast his suspicions correctly.

"Who do you suspect?" Dumbledore asked Snape at suppertime one day, in October.

"I don't particularly care, Headmaster," said Snape curtly, jabbing his fork into his steak. "If this Prince can help defeat Voldemort, I'm fine with that, but I believe things have gotten out of hand."

"Oh, come on Severus," said Dumbledore playfully. "Surely you have someone in mind?"

"Professor, quite frankly, I wouldn't care if the Half Blood Prince turns out to be Madam Pince. Please let me eat my steak."

"As you wish, Severus," said Dumbledore, sighing. "As you wish."

Halloween came as quick as a snail, if that snail had a charm on it to make it go very fast.

Halloween marked, as you can deduct with simple maths, the fifteenth anniversary of the Potter's deaths. This meant that the one hundred-eighty moons had gone by, and Voldemort would be vanquished. And no one in the school, (even dear Severus), knew who the saviour was, who lurked among the shadows.

Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley sat in the library, of all places, on All Hallow's Eve Eve. That is, the day before the day before November the First. That is, 30 October.

"What are you two doing in the library, of all places, on the day before Halloween?" Madam Pince asked them suspiciously. "Shouldn't you be preparing your defeat of the Dark Lord, Potter?"

"We are preparing," said Ginny defensively.

"We're looking up spells," said Harry. "No one said how I'm supposed to defeat Voldemort, after all..."

"Isn't the," and here Madam Pince paused, an amused look coming over her face for a moment, "Half Blood Prince, supposed to help you?" she asked.

"Well, yes," said Ginny. "But no-one knows who that is, do they? How do we even know he's going to show up?"

"Oh, the...prince, will show up," said Madam Pince assuredly. "Believe me. Now, either borrow those books, or get out of my library!"

And so, after the rather odd encounter, Harry and Ginny did indeed borrow the books, and took them to the Gryffindor common room.

"That was a rather odd encounter," said Harry to Ginny, opening For Dark Lords: A Guide for Self Immortality, (which was, quite suspiciously, by Quentin Trimble) and searching for any weaknesses.

"Yes," said Ginny. "I bet Madam Pince knows more than she lets on..."

"Of course she does!" said Hermione, walking up to them. "What do you think she does in the library all day? Paint her nails?"

"Hey," said Harry, curiously, "why are they called 'nails' anyway? Wouldn't 'finger-tip-covers' be more accurate? And what's the use of fingernails anyway? Do they have a real purpose?"

"They make it easier to grasp things," said Hermione automatically. "But Madam Pince--"

"Then what's the use of toenails?" interrupted Harry. "We don't grasp things with our toes, so--"

"They...I...I don't know," said Hermione. "But the thing is--"

"Stop interrupting, Harry," interrupted Ginny.

"Me? You're the one who just--"

"NEVER MIND!" exclaimed Hermione exasperatedly. "Just keep on looking--it doesn't matter!"

And with that, she left.

"Why'd she leave?" said Harry. He was confuzzled, which, as you know, is not a word though it most definitely should be.

"I dunno," said Ginny. And with that, she opened Dreadful De-animations of Dark's Darkest Dark Lords, which had an unnecessarily long and alliterated title, for a book of only fifty pages.

And so, they read.

And read.

And blued.

And purpled.

And, once again, they read.

After hours of colouring, Harry said, "Gin, I don't think we're going to find anything tonight."

"No, I don't suppose we will. But Halloween's tomorrow! And--"

"Today, you mean," came a voice from the portrait hole. Harry and Ginny could not look around, as they were English. It is physically impossible for an English person to look 'around.' Seriously. Ask any English writers you know.

And though they could not look around, they did look round, and saw the unusual sight that met their eyes. It was unusual because, no matter how hard they tried, they could not think of anytime previously that a one-person army had arrived, uninvited, at the Gryffindor common room. Invited, yes; but never uninvited.

Who was this one-person army? Well, it is rather obvious: the Half Blood Prince, of course!

But...wait! I said 'one-person army'.... If it was a prince, it would have to be male, and I would most likely have said 'one-man army'. But, as I didn't say 'one-man army' the person could not possibly be male, and therefore, could not be the Half Blood Prince.

And, as Harry and Ginny saw the woman that I am so expertly avoiding saying the name of, they could not imagine in a thousand years that she was a Princess, so the prophecy must have been wrong entirely.

As you may have guessed, by the above chapter title, Professor Snape had a way of never being wrong. He hadn't been wrong about Harry's father, James, being a complete git; he hadn't been wrong about Gilderoy Lockhart, the fraud, being a complete git; and he hadn't been wrong about this, either.

"Madam Pince?" said Harry, much to my dismay, foiling my plans of keeping this person in mystery. "You're the Half Blood Prince?" he asked bewilderedly.

"Of course I'm not," said Madam Pince. "Not only am I female, but I am most definitely not royalty."

You see, the centaur who made the prophecy had had a bit of a cold. When everyone thought he had said 'Half Blood Prince', he really said that the wizarding world's saviour would be a--

"Half Blood Pince, that's me."

"But then..."

"Yes, Potter. I'm going to help you defeat Voldemort."

"But you're..." began Ginny.

"A librarian? What do you think I do all day, paint my nails? I've been reading up on this sort of thing. In fact," she said, pulling a book out from her robes, "this book right here is going to solve all the problems in the wizarding world."

"What's in it?" asked Ginny excitedly.

"That's not important right now," said Pince, which I am now going to refer to her by, because it is five letters shorter than 'Madam Pince' and quite a bit shorter than 'the Half Blood Pince.'

"But--"

"Follow me, children," said the librarian, gesturing to the open portrait hole. "We must fly."

"Then I'll get my Fireb--"

"No, not really fly!" said Pince exasperatedly. "I mean we must move very, very quickly! Now, move!"

Now, from many years of being in charge of Hogwarts' library, Pince had gotten quite a bit of skill in the art of Telling Kids What To Do, which, as you might know, is the official art of Greenland. No offence to any Greenlandish readers... but your teachers sure are strict. And so are your princes.

And so, Harry and Ginny moved. No, they did not change the location at which their home was located; they simply changed the location at which they were located.

The trio walked very, very quickly through the halls of Hogwarts, until they finally reached the front doors. When they did so, they opened the front doors. Unbelievable, isn't it?

Treading on the soft grass, the trio made their way to the front gates, which were, as you know, topped with winged boars. I never knew why...you would think that they would be topped with warthogs, wouldn't you? Or hogs that had warts? Or the warts themselves? But, no, they were topped with winged boars, for no apparent reason, and Pince, Harry, and Ginny made their way through them. Not that it was a very long journey; the gates were not very wide at all, you see.

On second thought, maybe the 'winged' part had something to do with when pigs fly...

Harry was reminded -- for no real reason, except to connect this story with the events of his second year, which were originally going to include the unveiling of Madam Pince's secret identity -- of the events of his second year. He remembered the wall writing, the petrified persons, and the chilling chamber, which were all unnecessarily alliterated, just as Ginny's book had been.

And he remembered Ginny, lying cold on the chamber floor. He remembered what he had thought to be the worst day of his life. And now, looking at Ginny, walking in front of him, he realised just how much he cared for her. If anything happened to Ginny...well, he didn't want to think about that...

But wait

, you think, that was unnecessary and not integral to the plot! What's going on?

Ah, but that's where you're wrong. It was necessary to the plot. Or at least, Harry thought it was. You see, while remembering his second year, he also remembered his fifth year, and the first prophecy. The power the Dark Lord knows not...it must be love. And now that I realise that I love Ginny, I can defeat Voldemort!

Of course, that was not true; they were, at the moment, absolutely nowhere near Voldemort. Oh, wait. Now they were.

For with a crack like a whip crack, or a faint pop depending on which sound the Dark Lord would make when he Apparated in front of Harry, Pince, and Ginny, the Dark Lord Apparated in front of Harry, Pince, and Ginny.

"Hello," said Harry confidently. "My name is Harry Potter. You killed my father. Prepare to die!"

"Oh for the love of Merlin!" shouted Pince. "That line has been used far too many times in fanfiction. Especially in those SSHG ones, which all seem to reference 'The Princess Bride...'"

"What?" said Harry, Ginny, and Voldemort simultaneously, turning to look at the librarian.

"Hi-yah!" shouted said librarian, taking advantage of the Dark Lord's confuzzledness (which is not a word either, though it definitely should be) to retrieve the book from her robes and smack it over his head. Voldemort fell to the grass with a thunk!

"You attacked a Dark Lord... You attacked a Dark Lord...," Hermione whimpered, staring at the lifeless Voldemort with frightened eyes. "Oh, you're going to be in so much trouble --"

"Hermione!" cried Harry. "When did you get here? And what are you on about--"

"Potter!" barked Snape, who had also just appeared out of nowhere. You see, the Dark Lord's defeat is not something that can only have two witnesses. Four is a much better number, and as such, two further witnesses had promptly appeared. "I strongly recommend killing the Dark Lord, not just staring at his lifeless form with a frightened look on your face like the know-it-all here--"

"I'm not frightened!" said Harry. But he did what his Potions Master said anyway.

Gathering all the hatred he held for Voldemort, he pointed his wand at the fallen Dark Lord. This man had killed his parents. He had killed Cedric. He had, although indirectly, killed Sirius. He had nearly killed Ginny. And, with all these thoughts in mind, Harry Potter did the one thing he had wanted to do ever since he had first gotten his wand, when he first heard about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

He stuck his wand up the Dark Lord's nose.

"Potter!" exclaimed Snape and Pince, while Hermione and Ginny exclaimed "Harry!"

"Sorry," said Harry apologetically. "I've just always wanted to do that...."

Removing his wand, he was misfortunate enough to see that Voldemort had a cold, and yellow bogeys covered his wand. He recalled Ron's words in first year: "Urgh - troll bogeys."

He wiped them on Voldemort's trousers.

Harry stared at the man who had caused all the misfortune in his life, including that stubbed toe he had gotten last week while pondering whether the Dark Lord preferred boxers or briefs. He pointed his wand.

"Abracadaver!"

This was a spell that Harry and Ginny had found. It worked perfectly.

Voldemort was abruptly transfigured into a dead, rotting corpse, and immediately, larvae began chewing up his eyeballs. It really was a terrible sight to behold. All those bugs, and no bunnies for miles.

And that is the end of our tale. Except, of course, for the rest of Harry's sixth and seventh years. One must wonder what he does during this boring, safe time.

Sadly, just like the eternal question, 'How many licks does it take to get to the Tootsie Roll centre of a Tootsie Pop?', the world may never know.

~ Finis ~

Author's Notes:

If anyone is curious, it takes approximately 262 licks to get to the Tootsie Roll centre of a Tootsie Pop.

Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince has only just begun. Many more unbelievable and completely false tales are coming soon. Be sure to continue reading. But surely, you think, I must be running out of ideas? No, not in the least. I have many, many more H.B.P.P.s up my sleeve, and, hopefully, they are not sticky because it is not at all pleasant to have sticky things up ones sleeves.

You know, I've just realised it, but 'review' also happens to be an anagram for 'we veri.' This means, of course, that you should say 'We veri muhc licked yer story!!!!1!' in your review, even if you did not lick my story at all, which I certainly hope you didn't, as you are probably reading this on a computer screen, and I know from experience that computer screens are not the least bit yummy. Well, anyway...

Off you get.