Dark Lord of the Dance

Dark Lord of the Dance

The night was cold. So cold was the night, that it made Harry Potter shiver in his pyjamas. Don't ask why he was wearing pyjamas outside at night - the narrator didn't know why, either. But they were covered in Snitches. Black Snitches. At least that's the way they looked outside. In the cold night.

The producer came out of Hogwarts and smacked the narrator with a Pensieve. "Cut!" he said. "Redo!"

The night was cold. Harry Potter was cold. It was late. Harry shivered; tonight, he was to go into the Forbidden Forest. Here goes nothing, he thought to himself wryly as he passed the first tree.
Nearby, Fawkes was making out with Hedwig. But nobody cared.

Much like the night, Severus Snape's eyes were cold. Not literally, obviously, as that would mean he'd died. But his expression, and his eyes by association, were quite cold in the figurative sense.
It had started out as a lovely night. The dungeons were dungeony, his potions were potiony, and any students within a one mile radius were filled with the Fear Of Snape. Lovely.

Unfortunately, he had to go to the Forbidden Forest. That put a definite damper on an otherwise lovely night. It hadn't helped any that on the way there he had stumbled upon an avian snogfest and been pecked before they flew off to find somewhere a bit more private (or at least somewhere away from him; birds and students alike knew how fast Snape killed the mood). That had been very unlovely.

A flicker of light had distracted The Boy Who Lived from his inevitably dangerous continuation of the plot. Someone's following me! he thought wryly, since all of his thoughts were wry in nature. It was most likely because of the numerous occasions on which he had experimented with smoking various sorts of plants in the Herbology classroom. He decided that the light might have been an effect of this as well, so he kept walking. He tripped over a vine in his haste. "Dammit!" he shouted. Suddenly, the vine (further attached to a plant) began to swear at him in a voice that sounded suspiciously like his own. Only louder.

"Sorry!" Harry said, perspiring. He would have the type of luck to trample over a Regurgivox. If the vine shrieks any louder, Harry thought wryly, he would wake Hagrid. And maybe even someone who might get me in trouble! Deciding that his only option was to run deeper into the Forbidden Forest, he did so.

That...is Potter's voice. Snape thought, a muscle under one of his cold eyes twitching. Potter. It's always Potter. Potter, Potter, Potter. I hate him. Hate, hate, hate. And now I have to go drag that dunderheaded brat back to the castle so he doesn't get himself killed. I wish he would get killed. I wish he'd just die. At least his father had the decency to die. Eventually. Took him long enough, though.

Having fulfilled his capacity as a greasy, heartless bastard through thought alone, Snape then went after Potter with the intention of squashing the urge to strangle the boy himself. Yes, instead of killing the Potter brat, he would take him back to Hogwarts. Though maybe he'd be lucky enough to get Potter expelled for wandering in the Forbidden Forest at night. But with Snape's luck, the Potter spawn would probably be awarded House Points and an Order of Merlin.

I hate him. Snape thought. Hate, hate, hate. The muscle under his eye twitched again.

Harry and Snape had more in common than they thought. At that precise moment, Harry felt his left foot twitch slightly. See, they have stuff in common because they both twitched. The narrator cleared his throat. Anyway.

After Harry's foot twitched, it experienced the wonder that is airborne travel. Soon, Harry found himself upside down from a tree. Well, this sucks, he thought wryly.

Feeling the blood rushing to his head, he struggled to get out of his predicament. He fumbled for his wand, before realising that it had fallen from his Snitch pyjamas to the forest ground below. He let out a stream of curses, and as a reply, a Diricawl sadly and broodingly defecated over the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry sputtered indignantly.

Suddenly, seven cloaked figures appeared from the forest and surrounded him. Voldemort came forward from the cloaked figures and smirked menacingly.

"Fear me," Voldemort said, attempting a disco move. Perhaps the 'Stayin' Alive' Potion had worked a bit too well. "Rar."

Harry gasped wryly.

Snape-senses...tingling, Snape thought, then promptly forgot. Yes, the sight of Voldemort attempting to disco fearsomely had caused temporary memory loss in the Potions Professor.

When his mind adjusted to accept the horror before his eyes, he then noticed the bane of his existence. How and why Sirius Black was in the Forbidden Forest at just that moment (in animagus form, of course), however, Snape did not know. Though it was rather amusing watching him stare at the spectacle the Dark Lord was making of himself.

Snape couldn't help but feel superior that he'd gotten over the horror before Black. Though he did have the advantage of having been to quite a few Death Eater parties, and Voldemort had never been able to hold his liquor....

Perhaps some lighting is in order, Snape thought with an evil grin, pointing his wand at the treetops and muttering a spell. Suddenly, a disco ball sprouted from a tree and showered many-colored lights on the cloaked figures and their Dark Lord.

Harry blinked. This hadn't been what he expected when he first ventured out into the Forbidden Forest. But nothing really lived up to their expectations, did it. No, no, it didn't. The Boy-Who-Lived wriggled a bit more, and the vine that held him from the tree snapped, as vines are wont to do.

The Dark Lord, who was now dressed entirely in white disco-formals, gaped at Harry. "I don't know how you got down, Potter ..." he began menacingly, "but I doubt it will save you in the long run."

Harry stood up after grabbing his wand, and pocketed the magical length of holly. "Think again, Voldemort," he spat with conviction. "I challenge you to a Disco-off!"

The Death Eaters gasped. They began murmuring between themselves, all except for Lucius Malfoy, that is, who contented himself in babbling cute baby talk to the transformed Sirius Black. Sirius didn't seem to mind.

"You don't know what you've gotten yourself into," hissed You-Know-Who. "I'm the best disco king this side of the Atlantic."

Harry immediately transfigured his Snitch pyjamas into a disco outfit and sneered, placing a sombrero atop his head. A tumbleweed blew past, and an Old West duel whistle echoed over the distance. "I don't think so, Voldie ..."

The floor (which was really just dirt and leaves and assorted organic rot) of the Forbidden Forest transformed into a disco floor (with multi-colored blocks of...er, color...) and the disco music started up, courtesy of Mix-Master DJ Snape, yo.

Harry Potter and the Dark Lord formerly known as Tom Riddle faced each other, then began dancing up a disco inferno.

The assembled Death Eaters "ooh"ed, "ah"ed, and gasped at appropriate intervals. Except for Lucius Malfoy, who was still babbling baby talk to "Schnooglekins," as he had renamed Sirius.

Suddenly, and without warning either, both dancers fell to the ground, red-faced and sweating. Snape, recognizing what had happened (as he'd lived through the Seventies and seen such an occurance before), gasped, "They've caught Disco Fever! Stay back, it's contagious!"

Malfoy was the first to react. He picked up Sirius, aka "Schnooglekins," and retreated backward. "No!" he gasped, his silvery blonde hair blowing in his face. "I will not allow this fever to consume my love for my darling itty-bitty boogoo bubby ..." The rest of his words (or sounds, rather) were drowned out by the sound of Mix-Master DJ Snape's kickin' grooves, which were enchanting everyone to start getting down with their bad selves.

"My Lord, my Lord! Help us!" Wormtail slid onto the floor and started getting funky with the best of them, keeping a horrified eye trained on the twitching mass of disco robes that was Lord Voldemort. "We cannot stop it, my Lord! Disco Fever is consuming us!"

Perched atop the tree that once held the hanging figure of Harry Potter were Fawkes and Hedwig, both looking droopy eyed and smoking cigarettes. This spectacle was more than enough to intrigue their amusement. They flew down toward the disco floor in the middle of the Forbidden Forest, putting out their cigarettes in the process. Suddenly, Fawkes combusted.

But nobody cared.

Stepping over the pile of ash that was once a greatly-ignored phoenix (as well as Hedwig's True Love...at least while Pigwidgeon was off delivering mail, but that's another story and no one really cares enough to write it), Snape threw off his robes to reveal the brightly-coloured disco duds underneath. "Fools!" he cackled. "Now that I have you under my funky spell, I will take my place as the TRUE Lord of the Dance!"

With that, he began dancing his own special hybrid of Disco and River-dance. It was something that no one involved would ever forget. Not even with the help of thousands of Galleons of therapy.

The power of the dance hybrid knocked out all Death Eaters within a ten mile radius. After brooding for a moment over Lucius Malfoy's limp body (which looked surprisingly like Legolas', but we won't get into that), Sirius transmutated back into his human form and walked toward Snape, his eyes narrowed. He seemed to be the only one who could resist the Dance.

"Forget about it, Snapey! I am the true Lord of the Dance! And I will prove it to you here and now!"

And then a giant foot descended from the sky and smashed them all. The End.