Back to school sale...
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Other events have taken place, for that storyline, read the Onslaught crossover event, I, Deadpool recommend it, even if I don't really show up. Oh, and Chimichanga.
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In his palace, Doctor Victor von Doom, Monarch of Latveria, was pleased. He was on another planet, on a completely different earth positioned on the exact opposite of the sun. On this Counter-Earth, there was no one to take his credit card or ruin his mood. There were no annoying CSRs to annoy him with the mutinae of his score and service charges. Smiling under his mask, he leaned back and had a doombot feed him a grape.
Life was good.
Maybe he’d go attack the Fantastic Four just for fun.
Doom jumped up, disturbed by the sudden appearance of the diminutive and misshapen creature. At first he mistook it for Puck from Alpha Flight, but this seemed to have better hygiene.
“WHO DARES DISTURB DOCTOR DOOM’S REST AND RELAXATION!!!” he bellowed in his usual speaking voice.
“Dobby’s looking for Harry Potter,” said the creature, who was presumably Dobby. “Got to warn him. Danger at Hogwarts!”
“DOOM KNOWS NO PERSON AS HARRY POTTER!!!”
“Dobby was sure Master mentioned Latveria, but Dobby knew there were two. Dobby gots wrong Latveria. Bad, bad Dobby!” Dobby said. It then started hitting itself on the head. Viewing it as entertainment, Doctor Doom leaned back and enjoyed the show.
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“Students, fellow teachers, staff,” Dumbledore said at the opening of what should have been Harry’s second year. “I have an announcement to make.” He glanced around to make sure that everyone was looking. “I regret to inform you that Harry Potter is dead.”
There were screams of outrage and grief. There were sobs and many people bemoaning his fate. There were rather loud sighs of relief from the head table.
“I was informed recently that he died trying to save the world, or he died getting in the way of people trying to save the world (I’m not sure, the letter was a little vague on that). But it remains that Harry Potter is dead.”
He let the idea sink in. “And as such, I feel it would honor his memory to have his father’s idea of Parent Teacher Conferences mandated to all students. There is nothing more wonderful than a parent who cares enough for his child to come back from the future to look after him. From now on, once a year, just before the Break, we shall have your parents arrive here to collect you. Once here, your professors will inform them of your progress.”
“Mum and Dad knowing exactly what we’ve been doing?” Fred asked incredulously.
“Everything? Even that one with the Slytherine prefect and the goat?” asked George in the same incredulous tone.
“DAMN YOU HARRY POTTER!!” they screamed in unison. “DAMN YOU TO HELL!!”
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“My fellow Hufflepuffs,” Cedric Diggory began. “Today we morn the founder of our movement, Harry Potter."
“But hear this: this is not the end of the movement!”“Yeah!”
cheered the hufflepuffs.
“He may have given his life for the world, but his death shall be a symbol!” Cedric Diggory said. “Let our movement go beyond the borders of Hogwarts! Bring our parents, our siblings, let them join with us in our quest! Let our movement be the guide for their lives. Let it be known in all of the Wizarding World as the Badger Revolution!”“Hurray!”
they screamed. “Hurray for the Badger Revolution!”
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“Harry Potter is dead,” mused Draco Malfoy aloud. “That changes things slightly. My father spoke of these things, the changing situation as his compatriots try and find their way. How best to twist this to my advantage.”
There was some unintelligible mumblings coming from the corner. Glancing up, he noticed that Goyle had tried to talk and walk at the same time. The effort had made him half swallow his tongue.
“You’re useless Goyle,” growled Draco Malfoy. “Useless.”
After helping the hapless wizard back to his feet, Draco stalked away, pondering the idea that anyone that stupid couldn’t possibly be his equal.
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Some weeks later, Dumbledore was lamenting Harry’s death to the other not-so-sympathetic professors. “After his public execution of Quirrell, there is no doubt in anyone’s mind that Voldemort is not fully dead. Death Eaters have been out in force. Harry Potter’s death will only embolden them.”
“I’m not dead!”
“Yes, you are, I’ve got the letter to prove it,” Dumbledore said sadly before snapping his head up in surprise. “Harry?
The boy wizard just smirked and shrugged. “I got better.”
“It was a massive crossover event that Marvel uses to bump up sales every couple of years,” Harry said. “Awe crap. I just broke the 4th wall again! Dad’s gonna kill me! And I almost made it to five chapters, too. Well, this is the 5th chapter, so maybe that counts?” Harry thought for a moment as they walked into the great hall. “But since he was from the future when he grounded me…meh, I can probably get away with it.” Turning back to the confused crowd. “Sorry, my old Professor went evil and tried to destroy the world. It’s cool, he’s back. Well, kidnapped by a racist Hitler-esque guy who works with the US Government, but he’s still alive and well.” Harry pondered a thought a little. “Wait…if he’s prejudiced against mutants, wouldn’t that make him a speciesest? Is that even a word? And the whole mutant species/subspecies thing was never really hammered out, so it’s all a little confusing.” He looked back at the crowd. “You guys have no idea what I’m talking about do you?”
There was a moment of stunned silence before a huge number of people surged over to him, ending up in a jumbled mess somewhere between a riot and a group hug. Harry took advantage of the situation and introduced the Wizarding World to crowd surfing and the peace sign.
“I’ve decided to start in Ravenclaw this time,” Harry told Dumbledore after dinner. “I didn’t get to go there last time, so I figured I’d better start there.”
“Harry, that isn’t really your choice…”
“Nope, the Sorting Hat told me to do it,” Harry said.
“Don’ worry ‘bout it kid,” the hat said from next to him. “Dis guy ain’t doin’ nutin’, if ya know what I’m saying, yea kid?”
“So what do you do the rest of the year?” Harry asked.
“Well, not much,” the Sorting Hat admitted. “But I wuz thinkin’ ‘bout professional assassination. Nobody’d evah blame a hat!”
“Cool, I’ll talk to my dad and see if he can get you some contacts,” Harry said. “So what’s the password so I can move in to Ravenclaw?”
Harry’s first class of the year was Defense Against the Dark Arts. The self-aggrandizing heartthrob professor was just slightly brighter than the chair Harry was sitting in, which was actually impressive, because Harry had decided to make it glow for no apparent reason. He was also, however, had the wisdom score of your average animated skeleton.
“Now, can anyone tell me the best way to get rid of pixies?”
“Bird shot,” Harry called out without raising a hand.
“I’m not familiar with that technique,” admitted Lockhart.
“It’s pretty simple, you just point and shoot,” Harry said before blasting the cage of pixies with the shotgun. The rest of the class cowered from the noise and violence. “It’s more fun if they’re flying around.”
“Harry Potter!” Hermione Granger said sternly. “Don’t you know guns are illegal in Britain?”
“I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t bring any,” Harry siad.
“Then what’s that in your hand?” she demanded angrily, pointing to the double barreled, lever action shotgun in his hand.
“Oh, that’s just a doorknob,” Harry said with a shrug. Looking up at the readers he grinned. “What’s the point of a running joke if you don’t use it from time to time?”
In the teachers’ lounge, Professors Snape and Flitwick were sitting around a cup of tea discussing their students when the inevitable topic of Harry Potter came up.
“So you say he’s be working on a charm to suck creatures forward,” Snape asked.
“Yes, though I don’t know why,” Flitwick said taking a sip from his cup. “The practical implications are fairly insignificant. The Summoning Charm is much more useful.”
“It has been rather strange,” Snape admitted. “He’s been rather studious. Nearly a month and he hasn’t tried to blow anything up, no demons accidentally or intentionally summoned and no trouble aside from shooting those pixies in Defense. He’s even been working ahead in potions. I suppose he takes after his mother in that regard. She was quite gifted in the field, you know.”
“Has he been working on any projects with you?”
“He has been interested in the Shrinking Solution,” Snape said. “I normally don’t teach it until the 4th year, but he’s working hard. I just wonder what is going to come next.”
“Yes, his good behavior is rather ominous, isn’t it?” asked Flitwick.
Their fears would only grow as Harry continued with his work. He didn’t even do anything to have points deducted. The teachers’ room meetings were becoming a regular thing.
“He has been asking many questions about transmutation,” McGonagall said. “Mostly size transmutations, but also sound and shape.”
“He’s been working on a singing charm now as well,” Flitwick said. “It sings a song, but there’s something more to it. I don’t really know. He was muttering something about diffusion rates when he was in the library.”
“He has mastered the Shrinking Solution and developed a sort of trigger mechanism to make it a situational setting,” Snape said.
“What do you mean?”
“He’s managed to make a trigger to turn it on and off,” Snape said. “I am beginning to worry about what he is about to do next.”
The entire staff, minus Hagrid and Dumbledore who both thought Harry could do no wrong, knew this was the calm before the storm. They just wanted to know what kind of storm it was going to be. The rest just knew it was going to be bad.
In the shadows of Diagon Alley, a group of people were meeting who had not met in nearly eleven years. Led by Lucius Malfoy, they included the elder Crabbe and Goyle, and others associated by another dark title: Death Eater. Granted, if you used that in superhero circles, they’d be laughed at, but in the Wizarding World, that was a terrifying name. But you’ve also got to understand, they think Bellatrix, Andromeda and Narcissa are a sweet names for a child, and that’s just the Black family. If you had those names in a regular high school you’d be a steady victim of ridicule. Now, in this grouping of former Death Eaters, there were a few exceptions. Severus Snape and that guy who taught at Durmstrang were among the missing, as were all incarcerated in Azkaban.
“I assume you’re aware that the Dark Lord’s shade still exists,” Lucius Malfoy said. “He appeared in Hogwarts last year as a parasite living in Quirrell.”
“The war is over, they’ll just hunt us down again,” put in a nameless Death Eater.
“Do we know where the Dark Lord is now?”
“No, but by all accounts, he did quite vocally swear revenge against the Potter child,” Lucius explained. “We thought him dead. He will be…displeased that we have not sought him out.”
“But he is a shade,” put in one of the party. “He’s not the wizard who brought us together.”
“We need to make a decision,” another old Death Eater pondered.
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Harry was working in the lab, late one night, when his eyes beheld an eerie sight. His project in the lab, to his surprise, in mid winter started to attract flies. It must have been the mash.
“It’s alive! It’s ALIVE!!!
” Harry cackled as he shot his experiment with lightning from his spare wand. Grinning, the experiment was a success. Harry picked up his finalized product and set out to the Forbidden Forest.
“Hagrid, you said you spotted him heading to the Forbidden Forest?” asked a worried Dumbledore. “Alone?”
“Aye, he didn’t come when I called, so I came an’ got ye,” Hagrid said.
“We must find him at once!”
The two trudged out into the Forbidden Forest only to find a grinning Harry walking back out. The boy wizard held out his project and grinned evilly.
“It works,” Harry called out ominously. “It works!”
He wouldn’t explain anything more about it, no matter what Dumbledore asked. The Headmaster was actually forced to take points away from Ravenclaw. After this, even Hagrid was getting a little worried about what Harry was up to.
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When the warning of the Chamber of Secrets was painted on the wall, everyone thought Harry would be worried, and frankly my readers, he didn’t give a damn.
People were seriously creeped out by the way he would blithely walk past people who had been petrified Flitwick did have to admit that he was exhibiting the appearance of a Ravenclaw, with almost perfect grades, attending all his classes and even making time to work on a few side projects. But considering his first year, this action seriously disturbed the Charms Professor.
“Boohoohoohoo,” moaned Moaning Myrtle. She actually said the words, rather than use them as a textual Onomatopoeia.
“What do you want?” Harry asked, rolling his eyes at the second most annoying ghost at Hogwarts.
“My bathroom’s flooded,” she said.
“Why’s that my problem?”
“You’re Harry Potter.”
“Nope, I’m Alexander the Great Potter, know over all the lands for my skill at manipulating clay,” Harry said.
“No, not at all.”
“Somebody tried to flush a diary,” she moaned. Harry, annoyed by the moaning, decided to shut her up. To do so, he blew up the entire bathroom with a pumpkin bomb. Contrary to popular belief, not all of them are armed before the Green Goblin chucks them around. Interestingly enough, Harry found a long tunnel. At the end was a door wrapped in golden snakes.
“Well Nancy, are you thinking what I’m thinking? Someone should open this thing,” Harry asked his snake. Nancy nodded in agreement. To both their surprises, the door swung wide. Watching them from the other side was a very big serpent glaring at them both with big angry teeth.
The serpent reared in a fit of rage. Harry, a little angry that the big snake wasn’t paying attention, tossed the diary at it, which it promptly ate. Seemingly mollified, the snake settled down on the floor and closed it’s eyes, which was really weird, because snakes don’t have eyelids. Harry grinned.
“I totally call dibs.”
Later, when the professors noticed the massacred bathroom, the tunnel and open doorway, they rightfully surmised that this was the Chamber of Secrets, but whatever had been in there was long gone.
“So it is true,” Dumbledore said. “The Chamber of Secrets has opened for the second time. Who could possibly be the Heir of Slytherin this time?”
“Well, it’s not me,” Hagrid said. “You all know me better ‘en that.”
“Rubbish,” snarled Snape. “Of course it wasn’t you! It wasn’t you in the first place! We all know who it was last time and we know perfectly well who it is this time! It’s Potter!”
“Harry has none of Slytherin’s blood in his veins,” Dumbledore cautioned.
“Then who else in this school carries around muggle explosives?” Snape asked angrily, holding up a box labeled C-4 and Pumpkin Bombs.
“It’s Harry,” said Flitwick, nodding sagely.
“It’s certainly Harry Potter,” said McGonagall, nodding gravely.
“It could be none other than Harry Potter,” said Sprout, nodding sadly.“The red chicken will crow at the last stroke of midnight even if she’s a hen,”
said Trelawney, nodding off.
She was momentarily awakened when she noticed the other professors looking at her. “What did I say?”
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“So I’m a Slytherin now,” Harry said, moving his pets and possessions into the dungeon. “Gotta admit, it’s the first time I’ve ever lived underground. I think I’ll call you guys hobbits.”
“Does he ever shut up?” asked an upperclassmen.
“No,” Draco said. “No, he doesn’t.”
“Can we make him shut up?”
“I seriously doubt it,” Draco said. “You saw the man who raised him. Potter is actually more subdued than his reputation makes him out to be. However, he uses that as a mask for his real intentions. Everything he does is subterfuge for another goal. He is much more Slytherin than you might think.”
The prefect sneered slightly. “He’s a halfblood raised by muggles: he’s no Slytherin.”
“What’s a halfblood?” Harry asked, having heard the entire conversation.One explanation about Pureblooded Wizarding Families later:
“That is one of the most disgusting things I’ve ever experienced,” Harry said with a deadpan face. “And that includes watching hotdogs be made.”
“What?” Draco said, very surprised at the reaction. He was expecting a joke, perhaps directed at him, but some kind of zaniness that Potter was known for. The prefect was not so stunned, but instead prone to anger.
“You little muggleloving pile of shite,” snarled the Prefect. Harry kicked him in the balls.
“You don’t get to talk to me that way,” Harry said as the prefect doubled over before walking to his room.
Crabbe and Goyle looked on, inwardly and outwardly seething in anger as they noticed their
friend talking in a friendly tone to Harry Potter. He was a gryff-wait, he was in Slytherin now, but he used to be in Gryffindor, so he was still one, yeah, that was it. They were going to teach him a lesson.
That plan would be formed and put into place two weeks later, because it took the two iconic figures of inbreeding that long to rub their working brain cells together. The plan was predictably simple: 1. find Harry Potter; 2. beat Harry Potter up. After that they hadn’t really thought things through. The key part was they forgot that Draco Malfoy was usually keeping them from getting in over their heads.
Potter was found, predictably, in the Potions rooms after classes had ended, working on his latest project. He walked out to find his way blocked by a wall of pureblooded blubber and muscle.
“Oh, the bookends, what are you doing here?” Harry asked. Actions were proven louder than words as Crabbe pulled back his arm to punch the smaller kid. Harry took that opportunity to punch the taller kid in the throat. He then elbowed Goyle in the gut and boxed his ears. He then axe kicked the doubled over Goyle in the back of the head, sending him flying to the floor. Using a bit of a judo throw, Harry grabbed the arm of the recovering Crabbe and tossed him onto the floor next to his friend. The two meaty students looked up to see Harry standing tall and a bunch of angry yellow mice surrounding them.
“You two are stupider than I gave you credit for,” Harry said, dusting himself off. “I was raised by one of the best mercenaries in the world, I consider the Taskmaster an uncle and I’m a semi-X-Man. You think I haven’t been trained to protect myself? I was given martial arts training before I could talk…well maybe not that young, but it was from before I can remember. Yeah, I might get beaten up from time to time, but that’s usually because I don’t always think things through. And to my credit, the last real beatings I’ve had were from the Juggernaut and Onslaught, both A-list bad guys, and I survived. Not well grant you, but I’m still alive. You two aren’t even D-list.”
Crabbe tried to get up, but the angry little mice zapped him with electricity. Harry stepped on his wand hand. “Don’t try this again.”
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Harry was annoyed by this attention he was getting in Slytherin. All of them expected him to just fall in line. Screw that, the little inbred bastards were about to get what was coming to them.
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Deadpool's note the second:
Not that funny was it? Nope, If you haven't noticed, my little Harry's having a little trouble with the funnies lately. It might have something to do with being possessed or having his head messed up by an A-list super-villain. Or it might have something to do with really cheap fast food. Damn those dollar menus and man the ballistas!
Or it could have something to do with the writer getting plenty of sleep and not much caffeine. That would explain some things.
Well, that's all for now. If you'll excuse me, I've got to go jump a shark while killing a guy across the harbor. Laters!