Scars, Scars Everywhere and Every One a Laugh

Have you got a crazy scar? Feel all alone? Well not any more - there's a whole convention of you freaks! Come to the fifth annual scar convention for:

And lots, lots more...

Plus: the chance to talk and compare scars with fellow scar bearers. Who could ask for more?

Harry put down the leaflet. How could he have let Ron talk him into this? Was he mad? As far as the leaflet was concerned, he was.

"Would you like a schedule?"

Harry jumped. A young woman was holding out a piece of paper to him.

"Sure," he said, taking it from her, "You look rather out of place here."

"Yeah," replied the woman, smiling. "I feel really normal compared to this lot."

She turned to hand a schedule over to someone else, revealing the word 'quitter' branded in the back of her head * That's her scar?! *. Harry inched away and into the ballroom. His mouth dropped open.

There were hundreds of people there. One person walked past wearing shorts, showing off a V-shaped cut on his knee. Another man was walking round shirtless to show the bullet wound on his chest. There was a woman with a bite out of her ear talking to another with a slash right along her face.

Harry walked on. Past a group under a banner saying 'Tongue twisters' all sticking their scarred tongues out at each other. Past the games table where people were playing noughts and crosses on someone's arm. That wouldn't have been too bad if it wasn't that the pen was black and the board on the person's arm was a pale red.

"Hey - snap."

Harry looked up. A girl about his age was talking to him. She had a scar on her top lip shaped like two lightning bolts. Harry was already too overwhelmed to be shocked.

"What kind of freak show is this?"

The girl smiled. "Ours. I know it's a bit overwhelming at first but - Oh no! Hide me!"

She dived behind Harry revealing an older man with a suave look about him. He had a large red handprint on his face. As he turned sideways, looking around for the girl who was so obviously hiding behind Harry, he (Harry) noticed that the red mark was actually a hand shaped imprint. Also, his nose was out of shape. Once the man had wandered off, the girl reappeared from behind him.

"That's Francois," she told Harry. "He's such a pain. He only comes to these things to pick up girls."

"What was up with his face?!"

"He claims he got it from falling on one of those bizarre toasters that cook in the shape of a hand but it's from so many girl slapping his face."

Just at that moment, as if to prove her point, there was a loud scream of frustration, followed by a slapping noise.

The girl winced. "Ooh! That one's gotta hurt."

"I'm Harry," Harry told her.

"People call me Soph," said the girl, "Which is strange because my name is Donna. Hey, come on."

She grabbed his hand and dragged him through the crowds.

"I've always wanted to enter the 'Guess That Scar' competition," she told him, "But I'm always too late to sign up." They stopped under a sign saying 'Guess That Scar: Sign Up'. "Why don't you enter, Harry. How did you get your scar? It makes you look exactly like Harry Potter, you know"

Harry opened his mouth to answer but froze in mid reply. Did she really not recognise him? It was an unusual experience for him

"Curse scar," he said.

"Fine, don't tell me." Donna scribbled her name down on the paper and turned back to Harry. "You wanna check out the Auction?"

"I'm sorry," said Harry, "But this is a scar convention. What on earth is there to Auction?"

"Do I hear One hundred for this sword? The very same sword that gave Robbie the tremendous scar on his leg from a medieval recreation day? Thank you! One hundred. Do I hear One hundred and twenty?"

Harry stared, open mouthed, as the sword was sold off.

"Our next item is this very lovely red hot poker."

"I'm holding out for the rabbit." Donna told him.

Next came the bake off which was just won by a singed looking witch who had spent the entire convention constructing a life sized gingerbread house. She only beat someone with a UK shaped scar and sponge cake by three points.

Then was the three-legged race. It was designed to 'bring people together'. What that meant was that you had to find someone with a similar scar to yours so they could be your partner. It resulted in people wandering around looking for other people with cloud shaped scars or scars shaped like Australia. Harry and Donna were beaten by a pair with marks on their eyes. One had been hit by a dart and the other just had a bizarre birthmark.

Finally came the thing Donna had been waiting for: 'Guess That Scar'. There was a line of people standing on the stage and you had to guess how they got their scars. The first girl had a deep cut mark on her eyebrow. Several suggestions were thrown out - none of them very interesting. Harry was just thinking of sneaking away when...

"Yes! She had a swing thrown at her! Congratulations Draco Malfoy!"

Harry jumped at the sound of his enemy's name and stood on tiptoes to see Malfoy collecting his prize by the stage, shirtless.

"What are you doing here Malfoy?!"

"I've been coming here for two years now," Draco replied, "Look," He turned around and showed his back to Harry. It had what looked like whip marks on it. "You're not the only one with a cool scar Potter. Though personally I prefer Betsy's."

"Betsy?"

"She's the one with the scar on her bum shaped like a-"

"OK, OK, I get the picture," interrupted Harry, waving his hands to cut him off. "So what happened to you? Your father whip you, or something?"

"Oh, just because my father tried to kill the Weasley girl and everyone else at Hogwarts in second year, doesn't mean he's a horrible man who beats his son. Honestly, of all the prejudiced things you could-"

"All right. How did you get them?"

"Flying carpet accident while I was visiting my cousin in Africa."

"Next up, Sandy!"

Harry and Draco turned back to the stage. A youngish man covered in scars and bruises, was standing on the stage.

"Oh, easy," said Draco, "Fell down the stairs!"

"More like fell off a cliff and bounced off the walls." Harry snorted.

"Congratulations!" declared the host, "You're right!"

"Go Harry!" Donna cheered from the stage.

Dazed, Harry stepped up to the stage and collected his prize: a crate of Butter beer.

As it turned out, Donna had fallen over a curb. She was explaining all the details of it ("It was just like slow motion.") when music started up.

"What's going on?"

"Disco!"

The dance was great up until the middle of the Macarena when, after cheering and jumping with the rest of the group Harry found himself dancing next to none other than Voldemort.

"AAAAAAAARRRRGGGHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" He screamed.

"Oh don't worry, Harry," said Voldemort, "I won't kill you right now; I'm having too much fun at this convention. What? You think that that little stunt of yours when you were one didn't leave me with a scar? You wanna see it?"

At which point two things happened. Voldemort pulled down his trousers... and Harry fainted. All in all, people remarked later, it was a good convention. They were looking forward to next year.