Chronicles of a Powerful!Harry, Part One (Parody, HP)
Disclaimer: JKR owns all of the Harry Potter universe and all related characters.
(To make this clear: This parody has nothing whatsoever to do with the serious powerful!Harry fic, save for my now-zombified-horse-like joke about the sanity of powerful!Harry and some odd fanon that makes a strange amount of sense when you think about it...)
--
First Order of Business: Escaping the Weasleys
"OH GOD, HELP! HELP!"
Luna adjusted her spyglass and peered out her window. Over by the Burrow, someone was being attacked by an animated sweater, quickly-unraveling ball of yarn, and a mop. She considered the sight for a moment.
"Oh, it's Tuesday!"
--
Second Order of Business: Shopping
"You have expensive tastes."
"Well, this is a one-of-a-kind item."
"Yes, Mr... Snorkack, but..."
"Yes?" asked "Mr. Snorkack" in annoyance, adjusting his headband to make sure his lightning-bolt scar was properly covered.
"Is this for a female relative? Be honest, now."
"No, it's for me, I've told you that!" Harry snapped, gripping his wand tightly.
"If you insist..." The shopkeeper, giving him a leery look, took the tome down from the shelf, dusted it off, and gingerly handed it to Harry. "Careful, now, I'm sure the Aurors wouldn't like to see you carrying it..."
Harry ran his fingers over the title of the book and smiled. "Thanks for your advice, but I have my methods." And with that, he left the shop.
Hours later, a tall, cloaked figure crept into the shop, glancing around shiftily. "Do you have the book for which I have searched?"
"Which book?"
"The book," the cloaked figure whispered; beneath the hood, the shopkeeper saw a glint of brightest blue.
The shopkeeper sighed. "You mean, Ye Olde Tome Ofe Naked Darke Lordes,Thirteth Edit-"
"Yes, that's the one!"
"I'm sorry, someone already bought it."
Meanwhile, Harry shook his head as he flipped the glorious pages and sighed. Magical History really is rubbish. If I'd only known how handsome these blokes were, I might have paid attention during class...
--
Third Order of Business: Finding out the old man's secrets
"When my sister was six, she was set upon by-" Aberforth stopped. "What are you doing?
Harry looked up from where he squatted on the floor. "Getting my fiber. A balanced diet is -"
"You're chewing on the table."
"Tastes good."
"Do you know what's been on that table?"
Harry thought for a moment, then shrugged. "Does it matter? It made for good flavoring, whatever it was. And I haven't eaten in a while." He glanced around the room. "Say, what's your bed like? Fluffy? Compact? Lice-infested? Some cultures consider insects a delicacy."
Aberforth did not answer his question. "And you've been giving the Aurors and Death Eaters all that trouble?"
Harry glanced up at him in annoyance. "Look, I know I have a reputation, but they deserved it. If they left me alone, I wouldn't set them on fire, you hear? I just want to be left alone." With that, he resumed his meal.
Apparently, Aberforth respected wishes; Harry continued to snack on the table edge for several more minutes undisturbed. Then, he paused and raised his head. "So, what was going on with your sister?"
Aberforth shook his head slowly, a bitter grimace on his face. "She... was like you, Potter. She was like you."
"Ah. All right." Harry nodded. A second passed. "Is she single?"
---
Fourth Order of Business: Getting a date
"She's dead, Potter."
"Oh." Harry mulled it over as he masticated the wood-pulp. Dratted splinters. "I can handle that," he said at last. "She is single, right?"
---
Fifth Order of Business: Recruiting allies
"Let me be frank, Dung - Potter's completely mad, and stealing his things isn't the brightest idea -"
"Nah, I'll just tell 'im the doorframe wants a word with 'im, keep 'im busy for hours."
Aberforth scowled and wondered why the wrong side of the law was filled with idiots. "He'll go after you in a rage. You're not exactly a warlock when it comes to fighting. If you survive, I reckon it'll only be because he tripped over a chair and ended up hitting the ceiling by accident."
"See here, Ab, I can't pretend to be the Dueling Club champion, but I'm the best I know at dodging-"
"One hit, and you're dead."
Mundungus sat back and took a gulp of Firewhiskey, his face meditative. "He's that strong, he is?"
"Yeah. Rather stupid to get on his bad side, Dung."
For a while, both of them were silent. Then, Mundungus said slowly, "Say, if I said I was, er, smuggling these things out for him... decided to throw in my lot with him, since he's young, rising, and not going to choke on a lemon drop or get himself with his own spell any time soon... Think he'd fall for it?"
"How the hell should I know?"
"Better than draping meself in a corpse flower and saying I'm the Fairy Queen, innit?"
"Depends on whether he likes fairies..."
--
"You like fairies, Potter?"
"What? No. Maybe as a snack. Why?"
"Figured it couldn't hurt meself to ask."
--
"You're declaring yourself for a sixteen-year-old madman?"
The group of Dark wizards and witches was, by and large, unperturbed. "When was sanity ever an obstacle to Lordship?" one witch asked, looking confused.
"So long as he's stopped holding conversations with sinks, don't see what the problem is," a wizard who looked to be in his seventies said. There was silence.
"Conversations with sinks?" Aberforth asked.
"Oh, young Tom Riddle was strange in the head, you youngsters had better believe it," sniffed the wizard to the man who was forty years his elder, give or take a few. "Never truly close to anyone, given to fits of brooding and rages, wild, sickly to boot - we, his yearmates, only put up with him for... well, there must have been a reason. I think his throwing people across rooms without even the use of his wand had something to do with it. Muggle-raised, you know. Orphanage or somesuch." The wizard shrugged. "Ah, well. He made a good Lord, before he completely lost his head. I blame his travels in Albania. Wretched place."
Aberforth opened his mouth, made a strangled noise, and buried his face in his hands.
"Well, Ab, you were complaining you never knew how you were going to keep him safe by yourself, so figure this is a good thing..." Mundungus said as he shrugged and turned to the group. "Right this way, sorceresses and warlocks. Potter's back here..."
---
Sixth Order of Business - Training
"Baaaaaa."
The goat bleated in response. Harry scratched it behind the ears, then resumed chewing on his shirtsleeves.
"Baaaaaaaaaaaa. Baaaaaa. Baaa. Baaaaaaaaaa..."
"Potter?"
"Baa?" Harry said intelligently.
"What are you doing? And who's the girl?"
"Baaa," Harry said brightly. Beside him, Luna turned and looked up at Aberforth with her large, dreamy eyes. "Baa?"
"Oh," she said after a while, "We're working on our goat imitations. You never know what will help defeat What's-His-Name-Again."
"Baa," agreed Harry. Aberforth was silent.
"This is awkward, isn't it," Luna said after another while.
"Baaaaa?"
"I really do think they'll be important, though," said Luna, in the tone of someone abruptly changing the subject.
"Baaa!" Harry nodded his head energetically, pretending he had a tail to wag.
"They're a Power He Knows Not, you see."
Aberforth remained silent, although at least now, he was beginning to acquire a facial expression: weary disbelief. At last, he said, "Right. Well, I'm old enough to know when I'm dreaming -"
"Is this your dream?" Luna mused. "Well, it's a nice one, if it is. I like being in it. Thank you for having it."
"- and I suppose I'll enjoy it while it lasts, but I'm going to have to remember when I wake up not to let Potter get at the goats, he'd probably eat them -"
"Oh, I've already told him not to do that," Luna said with a frown. "That wouldn't be very nice. And you've been so nice to him, too."
"Baa," said Harry, feeling guilty and attemping to make his ears droop.
"Yeah, but in the waking world, you haven't done it, see..."
"Maybe I have," she said. "You never know."
"In case you haven't..."
"Oh, I don't know, either," she said, nodding. "I don't think this is a dream, for instance, but if you think so, maybe you're right. D'you think dreams know they're dreams?" She paused. "Oh dear. I hope you aren't my dream. I am glad to see you again, and while it's nice to see you either way, I'd like it better if I was really meeting you again..."
Harry looked up at Aberforth and bleated cheerfully. Aberforth stared at him, then at Luna, back at him again, and finally at Luna; "I'm too old for this," he mumbled, burying his face in his hands. "I'm too old, I'm too old, I'm too old - and Albus is completely worthless, as always..."
"Baaaaaaaa," said Harry profoundly.
---
(To make this clear: This parody has nothing whatsoever to do with the serious powerful!Harry fic, save for my now-zombified-horse-like joke about the sanity of powerful!Harry and some odd fanon that makes a strange amount of sense when you think about it...)
--
First Order of Business: Escaping the Weasleys
"OH GOD, HELP! HELP!"
Luna adjusted her spyglass and peered out her window. Over by the Burrow, someone was being attacked by an animated sweater, quickly-unraveling ball of yarn, and a mop. She considered the sight for a moment.
"Oh, it's Tuesday!"
--
Second Order of Business: Shopping
"You have expensive tastes."
"Well, this is a one-of-a-kind item."
"Yes, Mr... Snorkack, but..."
"Yes?" asked "Mr. Snorkack" in annoyance, adjusting his headband to make sure his lightning-bolt scar was properly covered.
"Is this for a female relative? Be honest, now."
"No, it's for me, I've told you that!" Harry snapped, gripping his wand tightly.
"If you insist..." The shopkeeper, giving him a leery look, took the tome down from the shelf, dusted it off, and gingerly handed it to Harry. "Careful, now, I'm sure the Aurors wouldn't like to see you carrying it..."
Harry ran his fingers over the title of the book and smiled. "Thanks for your advice, but I have my methods." And with that, he left the shop.
Hours later, a tall, cloaked figure crept into the shop, glancing around shiftily. "Do you have the book for which I have searched?"
"Which book?"
"The book," the cloaked figure whispered; beneath the hood, the shopkeeper saw a glint of brightest blue.
The shopkeeper sighed. "You mean, Ye Olde Tome Ofe Naked Darke Lordes,Thirteth Edit-"
"Yes, that's the one!"
"I'm sorry, someone already bought it."
Meanwhile, Harry shook his head as he flipped the glorious pages and sighed. Magical History really is rubbish. If I'd only known how handsome these blokes were, I might have paid attention during class...
--
Third Order of Business: Finding out the old man's secrets
"When my sister was six, she was set upon by-" Aberforth stopped. "What are you doing?
Harry looked up from where he squatted on the floor. "Getting my fiber. A balanced diet is -"
"You're chewing on the table."
"Tastes good."
"Do you know what's been on that table?"
Harry thought for a moment, then shrugged. "Does it matter? It made for good flavoring, whatever it was. And I haven't eaten in a while." He glanced around the room. "Say, what's your bed like? Fluffy? Compact? Lice-infested? Some cultures consider insects a delicacy."
Aberforth did not answer his question. "And you've been giving the Aurors and Death Eaters all that trouble?"
Harry glanced up at him in annoyance. "Look, I know I have a reputation, but they deserved it. If they left me alone, I wouldn't set them on fire, you hear? I just want to be left alone." With that, he resumed his meal.
Apparently, Aberforth respected wishes; Harry continued to snack on the table edge for several more minutes undisturbed. Then, he paused and raised his head. "So, what was going on with your sister?"
Aberforth shook his head slowly, a bitter grimace on his face. "She... was like you, Potter. She was like you."
"Ah. All right." Harry nodded. A second passed. "Is she single?"
---
Fourth Order of Business: Getting a date
"She's dead, Potter."
"Oh." Harry mulled it over as he masticated the wood-pulp. Dratted splinters. "I can handle that," he said at last. "She is single, right?"
---
Fifth Order of Business: Recruiting allies
"Let me be frank, Dung - Potter's completely mad, and stealing his things isn't the brightest idea -"
"Nah, I'll just tell 'im the doorframe wants a word with 'im, keep 'im busy for hours."
Aberforth scowled and wondered why the wrong side of the law was filled with idiots. "He'll go after you in a rage. You're not exactly a warlock when it comes to fighting. If you survive, I reckon it'll only be because he tripped over a chair and ended up hitting the ceiling by accident."
"See here, Ab, I can't pretend to be the Dueling Club champion, but I'm the best I know at dodging-"
"One hit, and you're dead."
Mundungus sat back and took a gulp of Firewhiskey, his face meditative. "He's that strong, he is?"
"Yeah. Rather stupid to get on his bad side, Dung."
For a while, both of them were silent. Then, Mundungus said slowly, "Say, if I said I was, er, smuggling these things out for him... decided to throw in my lot with him, since he's young, rising, and not going to choke on a lemon drop or get himself with his own spell any time soon... Think he'd fall for it?"
"How the hell should I know?"
"Better than draping meself in a corpse flower and saying I'm the Fairy Queen, innit?"
"Depends on whether he likes fairies..."
--
"You like fairies, Potter?"
"What? No. Maybe as a snack. Why?"
"Figured it couldn't hurt meself to ask."
--
"You're declaring yourself for a sixteen-year-old madman?"
The group of Dark wizards and witches was, by and large, unperturbed. "When was sanity ever an obstacle to Lordship?" one witch asked, looking confused.
"So long as he's stopped holding conversations with sinks, don't see what the problem is," a wizard who looked to be in his seventies said. There was silence.
"Conversations with sinks?" Aberforth asked.
"Oh, young Tom Riddle was strange in the head, you youngsters had better believe it," sniffed the wizard to the man who was forty years his elder, give or take a few. "Never truly close to anyone, given to fits of brooding and rages, wild, sickly to boot - we, his yearmates, only put up with him for... well, there must have been a reason. I think his throwing people across rooms without even the use of his wand had something to do with it. Muggle-raised, you know. Orphanage or somesuch." The wizard shrugged. "Ah, well. He made a good Lord, before he completely lost his head. I blame his travels in Albania. Wretched place."
Aberforth opened his mouth, made a strangled noise, and buried his face in his hands.
"Well, Ab, you were complaining you never knew how you were going to keep him safe by yourself, so figure this is a good thing..." Mundungus said as he shrugged and turned to the group. "Right this way, sorceresses and warlocks. Potter's back here..."
---
Sixth Order of Business - Training
"Baaaaaa."
The goat bleated in response. Harry scratched it behind the ears, then resumed chewing on his shirtsleeves.
"Baaaaaaaaaaaa. Baaaaaa. Baaa. Baaaaaaaaaa..."
"Potter?"
"Baa?" Harry said intelligently.
"What are you doing? And who's the girl?"
"Baaa," Harry said brightly. Beside him, Luna turned and looked up at Aberforth with her large, dreamy eyes. "Baa?"
"Oh," she said after a while, "We're working on our goat imitations. You never know what will help defeat What's-His-Name-Again."
"Baa," agreed Harry. Aberforth was silent.
"This is awkward, isn't it," Luna said after another while.
"Baaaaa?"
"I really do think they'll be important, though," said Luna, in the tone of someone abruptly changing the subject.
"Baaa!" Harry nodded his head energetically, pretending he had a tail to wag.
"They're a Power He Knows Not, you see."
Aberforth remained silent, although at least now, he was beginning to acquire a facial expression: weary disbelief. At last, he said, "Right. Well, I'm old enough to know when I'm dreaming -"
"Is this your dream?" Luna mused. "Well, it's a nice one, if it is. I like being in it. Thank you for having it."
"- and I suppose I'll enjoy it while it lasts, but I'm going to have to remember when I wake up not to let Potter get at the goats, he'd probably eat them -"
"Oh, I've already told him not to do that," Luna said with a frown. "That wouldn't be very nice. And you've been so nice to him, too."
"Baa," said Harry, feeling guilty and attemping to make his ears droop.
"Yeah, but in the waking world, you haven't done it, see..."
"Maybe I have," she said. "You never know."
"In case you haven't..."
"Oh, I don't know, either," she said, nodding. "I don't think this is a dream, for instance, but if you think so, maybe you're right. D'you think dreams know they're dreams?" She paused. "Oh dear. I hope you aren't my dream. I am glad to see you again, and while it's nice to see you either way, I'd like it better if I was really meeting you again..."
Harry looked up at Aberforth and bleated cheerfully. Aberforth stared at him, then at Luna, back at him again, and finally at Luna; "I'm too old for this," he mumbled, burying his face in his hands. "I'm too old, I'm too old, I'm too old - and Albus is completely worthless, as always..."
"Baaaaaaaa," said Harry profoundly.
---