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Harry Potter and the Serving of Justice	By : MikiNDaxxi Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 16660 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: We own no part of Harry Potter or his magical world and make absolutely no money by wasting our time writing this sludge. We did not create these characters; we just abuse them ad gratis. Our humble apologies to the disclaimer police.

Chapter List
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Hermione sat at a desk, research books on the subject of magical fabric piled so high around her that she was practically hidden from Harry’s view.

Snape, Draco, and Lupin were shirtlessly brewing potions in a cauldron over the fire while Fred and George filmed.

Zombie Hedwig loomed on one of the ornate, if somewhat dusty and cobweb-ridden, chandeliers above. She was securely fastened to the ceiling by a chain to prevent zombie-owl brain om nom-age.

Hermione rubbed her eyes. She’d been researching what to do about Sirius for the past three days. She needed a break. She looked up from her research to see Harry standing next to her, poised to ask something.

“Yes, Harry?”

“Hermione,” wheedled Harry, “can’t you bring Ron back? Now that we have the resurrection stone, we can bring him back to life. Pleeeease? He’s my best mate!”

Hermione sighed.

                “It’s not that simple, Harry. He was given to the Cliff Gods in exchange for Fred…”

Harry made puppy dog eyes. Damn it. Hermione hated it when he did that.

She sighed again.

                “Fine!” she said and fiddled with the resurrection stone.

There was a great POOF of dark purple smoke, and there stood a very confused looking Ron Weasley.

                “Eh?” said Ron, looking around. “I’m back! Cor!”

                “Ron!” exclaimed Harry. “I’m so glad to see you!”

Tears welled in Harry’s eyes as he looked at his best friend, newly returned from death.

Ron did a double take, looking at the sight of Harry on the long lead attached to Draco’s arm as Draco frolicked shirtlessly about the cauldron with the others.

Harry had rather liked his black, studded leather chaps when he picked them out this morning, but now he was second-guessing himself. Did studded leather really go with a pink feather-tickler?

                “Er…Harry?” started Ron, uncertainly. “What’s going on?”

Harry blushed.

                “Oh, well…about that…you see, I’ve recently come to the realization that,” Harry looked toward Draco, “I’m gay and, um, I like to be dominated?”

Ron stood there, mouth gaping. His brain seemed to be searching for a synapse with which it could connect.

Harry fidgeted nervously as he waited for Ron’s reaction. It was not going to be good. He braced himself as Ron’s ears were quickly turning a lovely shade of baboon’s ass red.

                “You’re WHAT? Honestly! I’m dead for, like, five minutes and all at once you’re gay??”

Ron laughed in disbelief.

“It wasn’t enough for you to be the effing savior of the effing Wizarding World. OH NO!” He gesticulated madly. “You’ve got to be gay! You are such an attention whore!!!”

“Look at me!” mimicked Ron in a high pitched voice. “I’m Harry Potter, and I can’t stand not being the center of attention! Look at me, everybody! I’m a puff!!”

Harry stood, frozen in astonishment. This was not the reaction he’d be hoping for.

Hermione facepalmed beside him. She’d been doing that far too frequently lately.

Fred and George looked over from their potion filming.

“So, Hermione,” started George.

“With this resurrection stone you can revive people at any time, right?” finished Fred.

Hermione raised her eyebrow.

“Yeeees…” she replied.

Fred and George grinned mischievously and looked towards Harry for approval.

“Fine!” said Harry. “You can kill him…again.”

Ron heard none of this because he was still ranting with elaborate gestures.

“Good boy!” Draco praised his boy-toy.

George sauntered over to Ron as casually as an evil twin could.

“Here,” he said, interrupting Ron’s tirade, “try one of our new products from Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes!”

“Okay!” said Ron, distracted from his diatribe, and greedily shoved the candy into his mouth. He waited, and his nose began gushing blood.

“This is lame, guys! This is the same as your Nosebleed Nougat!”

“Nope!” said Fred, strolling over to join them. “This one’s different.”

“How so?” questioned Ron as he waited, trying to detect a difference. “I don’t get it. Give me the antidote half now.”

The twins grinned.

“That’s the difference,” they chorused. “There’s no antidote.”

“WHAT?” panicked Ron. “What are you waiting for?? Go develop one!!”

Fred and George look aghast.

“What?” questioned Fred.

“And deny us our fun?” pressed George.

“Oh for shame, little brother,” they chimed together, joining hands and skipping away, leaving Ron groping on the floor, turning white as he bled. He clawed his way over to Hermione, appealing to her for help.

“Ronald!” scoffed Hermione. “You’re bleeding on my new boots!”

Ron twitched.

Draco looked at Harry with a hint of respect. He made his way over to Harry in a seductive fashion, distracting Harry from watching Ron convulse on the floor.

“You’ve done well today, Pet,” he said, trailing a seductive finger down Harry’s chest and fingering the waist band of his trousers. “Shall we go claim your reward?” he purred with a smoldering look.

Draco started down the hallway, toward the door. He stopped and turned to glance back at Harry, confirming that Harry was, indeed, watching his ass. With a look at Ron twitching on the floor, Harry wiped a small strand of Draco-inspired drool from his lips and walked purposefully after the Slytherin boy, ignoring the strangled gurgling sounds coming from Ron’s throat. To his surprise, Harry found himself fighting a small smile and followed the clacking of Draco’s stiletto boots out the door.

“Aren’t you going to resurrect him?” asked Snape in a tone which conveyed mild curiosity, rather than concern.

“I’ll get to it,” said Hermione dismissively. “Call in Young, Sexy Tom Riddle!”

Snape rang a little golden bell. Voldemort walked into the room, magically forced to obey the bell’s summons. He was doing his best to seem timid and shy- it’s not very effective.

“Voldie,” Hermione addressed him, “I’ve decided your re-educational punishment.”

Voldemort waited on tenterhooks.

“You’re going to be my new GAY BEST FRIEND!” flailed Hermione.

“But,” protested Voldemort, “I’m not gay…”

“Run, you fool!” said the ghostly shade of Dumbledore.

“What the fuck did I say about stealing my thunder??” asked Gandalf incredulously from the other side of one of Hermione’s huge stacks of research books. The point of his wizard’s hat and tips of his eyebrows were all that were visible.

“Nice shirt,” remarked Hermione, eyeing his ruffled pirate-esque blouse Gandalf had donned.

“Thanks. Right now, I’m Gandalf the Gay.”

He looked at Dumbledore in a threatening manner, as if daring him to debate who was gay first.

Dumbledore cowered.

“But,” protested Dumbledore, “I want Grindewald!...or school boys!”

Hermione walked over and bitch-slapped the ghost of Dumbledore.

“Don’t confuse being gay with being a pedophile! You disgust me,” she snarled.

“But I’m not gay!” reiterated Voldemort, drawing attention back to himself.

Hermione grinned like a Cheshire cat.

“You will be…you will be. It’ll be like the Paris Hilton show, but actually good!” She pressed a button on her desk and spoke into little metallic box. “Draco, share your hair gel!”

“Hey,” came Draco’s voice from the little box, “I don’t share my hair gel!”

“It’s true,” confirmed Harry’s voice, also coming from the box.

Hermione ignored them.

“I will give you a new, gay nickname!” she addressed Voldemort. “Jus…er…Joseph Bieber! Now, for the gay spell! Penus affinius!” A plume of glitter and smoke, which looked suspiciously similar to that in which the Japanese boy band Arashi had disappeared, shot out of Hermione’s wand and went right up Voldemort’s ass.

Snape shuddered.

“I’m so glad you like me,” he said.

‘PEeeeeeennnnnisssss,’ thought New Sexy Gay Riddle’s mind.

‘Preeeeeciousssssssss,’ thought a randomly inserted Lord of the Rings character.
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Harry Potter and the Serving of Justice