Harry Potter and the Golden Apple Corps

Harry Potter and the Golden Apple Corps

Harry Potter sat surveying the living room of 12 Grimmauld Place. His friends had certainly gone above and beyond the call of duty in making the house his godfather had left him fit for living in. It still depressed him not to have Sirius and Dumbledore around, but at least the last thing Sirius had done in the house improved it by at least a thousandfold. Harry had finally achieved an understanding of the event from Kreacher, the treacherous little house elf that had helped Voldemort trick Sirius to charging to his death.

Kreacher did not want to tell, but Harry barked it out as an order. Through the screams of "Don't Want to!" the elf told how Sirius, thoroughly disgusted that the elf and the portrait of his mother had collaborated with the Malfoys to lure Harry into the ministry, marched straight to the painting and shot a reducto curse at the wall, intending to just blast the damn wall and the painting with the permanent sticking charm out of existence. He got what he wanted, though not what he intended. The painting was the only thing destroyed. The only damage to the wall were two black marks that looked like a dog and a stag.

Harry often thought about this last act of Sirius in his house, and smiled somewhat sadly. But it did make him remember that there were people that loved him in the world. He looked up at the portraits on the walls of his living room smiling. Ron grinned down at him from one and then moved toward the next portrait from where Hermione beamed down at Harry. As Ron's likeness got into the painting and put his arm around Hermione, Harry wondered to himself softly if this meant that the real Ron and Hermione had finally woke up to the fact that they were meant for each other. At this, Harry winced a little bit as he moved his eyes to the portrait of Ginny.

He had very little time to ruminate, however, as a faint music seemed to be sounding in his ears. He thought he recognized the tune. Something from his elementary school studies of American Muggles. He hazarded a long pull on his wraithrum and pixieflower soda while pondering the strange music and the paisley cloud of smoke that began swirling before him. The music blared and a woman emerged in a tie-dye leotard and tutu with ballet movements that would make an entire company of world renowned dancers drop dead from sheer green envy. At the same time, Harry heard a voice singing odd words to the tune he found familiar, and sprayed the new arrival with a spectacular spit take. As the oddly dressed newcomer hit the floor in laughter, Harry stood in shock listening to the words coming from nowhere.

Mine brain has meditated

On the spinning of the chao

It is hovering over the table

Where the chiefs of staff are now

Gathered in discussion

Of the dropping of the bomb

Her apple corps is strong

Grand and gory ol' Discordja!

At this point Harry lost track of the words as the stranger in his house was turning a dangerous shade of purple. In fact, the stranger was looking worse than he'd ever seen his uncle look when threatening him. He stepped toward the stranger, pulling his wand from his pocket to help when it hit him that she was not invited here, and her appearance may have been some kind of Death Eater trick.

"Petrificus Totalus!" Harry cast at the figure on the floor, who was now regaining her breath. She sat up and snickered as Harry looked at his wand and tried a couple of other spells.

"Won't do you a bit of good, you know," said a voice from over his shoulder in the direction of his couch. Harry pivoted on his foot in such a way as to have them both in view. "Hi! I'm Omar. The baggage who doesn't seem to have any dress sense over there is Eris Discordia, Goddess of Chaos, Discord, and Confusion."

Harry pointed his wand at the drink in his hand and vanished it. Well, his wand wasn't broken. He wasn't so sure about his mind, especially because at that point the person introduced to him as a goddess stepped out of her clothes. Literally. She took a giant step to the left and into the buff. The hideous outfit remained standing.

Harry wished desperately that he could speak. He was trying to regain his verbal capability, figure out how two people could get into a place that had even more wards than Hogwarts, and understand just why exactly one of those people had decided to disrobe in front of him. He had to admit that it was probably too much for him at this point, and he would be well within his rights to just gibber quietly to himself.

At that moment, the striking raven-haired beauty started trying to pick a new outfit. At least, Harry thought, that is what it looks like. She had faced the still standing outfit and it had begun to change into different outfits. It took about a minute for the outfit (or the woman-Harry couldn't decide which one) to decide what it was going to be. Harry spent the entire time lost. He tried frantically to gain some kind of grasp on the situation, but the sight of the nude goddess in front of him was depleting his brain's blood supply. The outfit settled on becoming a leather minidress that looked about three sizes too small. It careened around and placed itself on her.

"Hi Harry, I've come to help you kick old Moldybutt's ass!" Eris said, planting a firm kiss on Harry's lips.

Harry did what any sensible seventeen-year-old wizard would do in the same situation--he fainted.