Snakes and Chimichangas
DEADPOOL'S NOTE: Secretively stealthy sneaking, Harry and Wade peeked around the corner of the page and peered out through the mass of text on the webpage.
“It's been months, do you think we finally lost the readers?” Harry asked his dad.
“No, see that big arrow right there? That's a cursor, clear sign that they're tracking us as we speak,” Deadpool said, pointing to the pointy arrow on the screen.
“Damn, I'd have thought that they would have lost interest after a few months,” Harry cursed, snapping his fingers in aggravation.
“These readers are pretty damn persistent. Hell, they've watched me for hundreds of issues at this point,” Deadpool reminded his adopted son. “They even read the issues that only focused on Nate.”
“What is Daddy Cable doing these days?”
“Not sure, probably doing some stupid time travel thing,” the Merc with a Mouth mused.
“You know, we should probably get back to the story,” Harry commented. “I mean, that Umbridge woman's been in the Box for a few months now, and I haven't given her any food.”
“Just saying. The readers want her tortured more,” Harry explained.
“I thought they wanted me to show up more?”
“That too,” Harry agreed.
It was a dark and stormy night. Not because a certain Weather Wielding Mutant was visiting, but because it was windsday, and a rather blustery windsday at that. This is, however, not to be confused with Wednesday, which is a totally different thing. Deep in the bowls of Hogwarts, that on this particularly dark and stormy night resembled less the oasis of magical education in Britain and more a place where Dracula and Straud would hang, a mad scientist and his new apprentice were having a special session.
“No, Apprentice Luna, you're doing it wrong,” the good doctor said. Holding his gauntletted hand up to the sky, he timed it perfectly so he was silhouetted by lightning from a window just as he let loose a bolt of maniacal laughter. “MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Like that, now you try.”
“Oh, I suppose that could work,” Luna said. “but I was thinking more of an OH-HOHOHOHOHOHO! Because it's more feminine.”
“Hmmm...” Doom said, stroking his armored jaw in thought. “It does
Punisher's War Journal
I finally gave up tracking Malfoy. He kept teleporting out of the range of my tracker. So instead, I took a more direct approach. Disguising myself as a member of football hooligan mob riot, I was able to get close enough to beat him with a cricket bat and break his knees. After which, I took him to an undisclosed location and had a chat. It took some time, we both needed him to realize his arrogance was grossly unfounded. After I had dealt with that problem, I helped him get a few things off his chest. I'm sure the guilt was getting to him. Or maybe it was the blow torch.
“Peanut brittle,” Harry said.
“What?” the rest of the class asked.
“Harry! That doesn't have anything to do with potions!” Hermione was quick to point out.
“... … ...so?”
In the months between the author being lazy and busy (but mostly lazy) not much had happened in the Wizarding world. Granted there were minor things, like the break out of Azkaban, but that hadn't helped the Death Eaters much, since the Rodent of Death couldn't send out a team without them getting brutalized by hooligans and Red Sox fans. The occasional Mets fan helped out too. So, not much else happened until in the middle of potions, Harry leaned back and said the name of a popular holiday candy.
However, the gears were turning with the Rodent of Death. His plans to strike fear and mistrust weren't working like they did last time, but he had a new plan.
“Bellatrix,” the Rodent of Death commanded. Instantly, his faithful psychopath was at his side. “I have a plan.”
“Oh, what is it, oh great dark lord?”
“The Muggle Loving Fool-”
“Oh, right, sorry, there's a lot of muggle loving fools,” Bellatrix explained. “I get confused sometimes.”
“No worries,” Tommy said, brushing the interruption away. “But Dumbledore had managed to counter my movements thus far. However, I'm sure his star pupil, Potter will know his plans.”
“Are you going to capture him and torture him?” Bellatrix asked with almost orgasmic glee.
“Uh, no, I'm just going to use the connection we have through his scar to read his mind,” the Rodent of Death replied, a little confused by her reaction. Maybe he should have chosen a different right hand. “Now, Bellatrix, you must watch over me while I do so.”
“Oh, certainly my dear snaky dark lord!”
And with that, Tommy-Boy leaned back in his throne and closed his eyes. There was a moment of stillness, and then a moment of shuddering that could have been a small seizure, and then he relaxed and smiled.
“Did it work?” Bellatrix asked eagerly. Voldemort swept down and pulled her into a hug. “What huh?” “Thank you for being a friend,”
Tommy sang. “Traveled down the road and back again.”
“Lord are you okay?” Bella asked in clear concern. “You're heart is true, you're a friend and confidant!”
“Are you sure you don't want to sit down?” “And if you through a party,”
The Rodent of Death continued, “Invited everyone you ever knew, You would see the biggest gift would be from me, And the card attached would say thank you for being a friend.”
“My Lord, I'm just going to head over to St. Mungo's and kidnap a few mind healers, because I suspect you may need one,” Bellatrix commented.
“Ladies, Gentlemen, and Students,” Dumbledore said at dinner one night. “I have an announcement to make.” It took some time, but eventually everyone quieted down. “I regret to inform you-”
“Did Umbridge escape?” asked one student.
“No,” Dumbledore said. “What I have to say is-”
“Does it have something to do with Doctor Doom having the week off to fight the Fantastic Four?” asked another.
“No, nothing to do with that, either,” Dumbledore said. “No, actually we've had a staff member retire.”
“Was it Snape?” asked Ron.
“Of course it wasn't me, you fool!” Snape snarled. Various noises of disappointment followed that statement.
“No, it was Filch,” Dumbledore said quickly, trying to finish what he was saying. However, as soon as the words passed his lips, cheering went up and it took nearly three hours for the celebrations to settle down. However, when it finally did end, Dumbledore did had to inform them that the replacement was found. “No, the new caretaker of Hogwarts isn't here right now, but he'll be joining us soon. Some of you might remember him from a picnic four years ago.”
Just then, a familiar voice called out at some boys shooting off fireworks.
“GEDDOFF MY LAWN!”
And Wade Wilson ran after the Weasley twins wearing his mask, some overalls and a flannel shirt while wielding a pitchfork.
Pixie gawked at the signed, turned and gaped at her boyfriend.
“What the hell was that?”
“That was Wonder-Mutant-Dad's new secret identity,” Harry quickly replied.
“That's not secret,” Pixie pointed out. “He's wearing his mask in public. Anyone with half a brain would recognize him!”
“You're forgetting what society we're in,” Harry pointed out. “I just published this in the Prophet.”
Harry held up a front page of the magical British newspaper that had the headline: “Wonder-Mutant-Dad is most certainly NOT the new janitor at Hogwarts.
” Pixie facepalmed and sighed. Hermione nodded and put a kind hand on her shoulder.
“The sad part is,” Hermione commented, “That will probably work.”
At Yule, the Weasley Twins had the opportunity to try talking on the tellyfun (when they reported this, they were quickly corrected and that it was a telephone, but they still thought tellyfun was cooler). Normally for a pureblood, this wasn't something to brag about, but for the twins, it brought about some very important news.
“Fred and George,” the Stepford Cuckoos said in unison over the tellyfun. “We have some very important news.”
While the redheaded trouble twins were used to the normal surround-sound unison of their girlfriends' voice (or voices, they were never really sure if they were supposed to use the singular or the plural with the Three-In-One), there was something...disturbing in the tones of their girlfriends'.
“Yes, Loves-” Fred began.
“What is it?” George finished.
“We're pregnant with twins.”
The silence was deafening.
“What was that love?” both Weasleys asked in unison.
“We're pregnant with twins.”
“When you say that-”
“-Do you mean one of you-
“No,” the Cuckoos interrupted. “We are each pregnant with identical twins.”
The two Weasley twins fell backwards in a dead faint.
On the other end of the line, the Stepford Cuckoos, all three very pregnant turned as one to look at a certain women. “It occurred exactly as you said it would, Mrs. Weasley.”
“Of course it did,” Mrs. Weasley said pulling them into a big group hug. But after a short while the older woman's mask broke and she started to cackle evilly. “BWAHA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!”
“We are confused,” said the Cuckoos. “Why are you laughing?”
“Because after eighteen years, REVENGE IS FINALLY MINE! BWAHA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!” The redheaded woman cackled in a laugh that would give even most practiced Silver Age mad scientist supervillain pause. “They say a mother's greatest revenge is when their children have children, and a long last Revenge is mine! Eighteen years of pranks and disobedience! Eighteen years of Skiving Snackboxes and Canary Cremes! If Karma means anything
, your children will be just like their fathers! TAKE THAT
FRED AND GEORGE! BWAHA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
So caught up in her revenge was Molly Weasley, she never noticed the mothers of her grandchildren slowly backing towards the door in fear. It would be some time before the Cuckoos would be comfortable in her presence.
Voldemort sat up and looked around. His head throbbed like, well, like something that hurt so much he couldn't think of an analogy. But, hey, he was a wizard and little thinks like litterary intelligence and awareness meant little to those kinds of people.
“My Lord!” Bellatrix asked as she rushed to his bedside. “You-you're not going to start singing again are you?”
He looked up at her in surprise. “I was singing? Why would I be singing?”
“It was just after you tried to use your link to Potter's mind,” she reminded him. And then it all came flooding back.
“Ugh,” Voldemort said as he massaged his brain through his eyeballs. “Go get me a healer, some extra strength pain numbing potion and a chimichanga.”
“A what?” Bellatrix asked. “I've never heard of a chimney-china.”
“No, it's a chimichanga,” Voldemort replied. “And I'm not even sure if I really want one, I just like saying the name: chimichanga, chimichanga, chimichanga - OH DEAR LORD, HE'S INFECTED ME! Bellatrix, you have to go find an obliviator! You have to erase everything up to the point I entered Potter's mind!”
Bellatrix's eyes went wide and nodded. It seemed to her like it should have been the other way around, but Bella wasn't a minion to question the Dark Lord's orders.
“Potter's mind must be a truly terrible place,” she muttered as she ran off to kidnap a few people from the ministry. But she paused and a tear fell down her face. It was clear her Lord no longer valued her as much as he once did. He kept talking in his sleep about Bea Arthur.
“And now class, you shall learn the TRUE
POWER OF SORCERY!” Professor Doctor Victor von Doom announced. He posed with a gauntlet held upwards as if to crush the world in his grasp. “You have learned many things these past few years, but only now shall you truly delve into the powers that your magics have only touched on.”
Clapping met his pronouncement, and Doom turned to look at his apprentice. “That was way better than the last one,” Luna commented with a bubbly laugh. “I really like how you emphasized True more than Sorcery this time. Your students will cower under your power.”
“You really think so?” Doom asked his young apprentice. “Doom has considered this before, but it has never been an issue.”
“It's only your first time teaching, so it's perfectly understandable that you'd be a little nervous,” Luna encouraged. “You did well with the Plasma Disintegration Cannons.”
“Well, yes, but I've been building them since I was five,” Doom said, brushing off her praise. “What do you think about a field trip to Counter-Earth? We could take it over as a demonstration?”
“OOO GOODIE!” Luna squealed in delight. “Can I be governor of Counter-Antarctica?”
“Only if you promise to impose my Dinosaur breeding program,” Doom countered. Luna ran up an gave him a hug.
“You're the best mentor ever,” she told him. “Can I give the dinosaurs laser vision?”
“But of course! Why wouldn't you?”
NEXT TIME: We're makin' Waffles!