Can’t we all just get along? The comedy.



A brief forward: It is Harry Potters 6th year at Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry, and Voldemort reigns supreme. Yet not all of those who are close to Voldemort appreciate his transformation from lovable 16 year old to murderous tyrant, in the words of Lucius Malfoy: “you’ve changed, man, you used to be cool.” Voldemort’s friends stage an intervention, unknown to him, and try to place him in rehab. While this is going on the boy who lived is at a Hogwart’s Quidditch match, trying to woo the eligible ladies . . .


***


“Right this way my lord,” said Lucius Malfoy leading Voldemort up the steps to a private rehabilitation center in London.

“Where are the muggles you promised we’d torture?” Voldemort spoke with a high-pitched voice.

“Well,” Lucius said stalling for time, “that’s not exactly why we’re here.”

Voldemort’s right hand twitched dangerously, “if you are playing me false!”

Lucius faked a nervous laugh and clapped him on the shoulder, “you see, the thing you have to understand is . . .”
Voldemort’s wand arm started drifting ominously toward his pocket, “if you have lied to me . . .”

The two men had reached the front entrance door, Lucius walked inside and Voldemort reluctantly followed. They entered into a large lobby, filled with muggles milling about. A large sign had been hung on the opposite wall, Voldemort read it, his voice thick with contempt, “London rehabilitation center, what rubbish is . . .”

“Hi, you must be Tom,” came a voice from behind them. Voldemort’s neck snapped around to look at the speaker. A half dozen doctors stood behind him.

The closest doctor pulled out a clip board, “ah, yes, I see you are here to learn to control your anger, is that correct, Tom?”

Voldemort’s eyes bulged in furry and his hand shot to his pocket, he pulled out his wand and fired off a curse. It struck the hapless doctor between the eyes. He fell bodily to the floor, unmistakably dead.

A few moments of silence followed. Finally another doctor stepped forward and pried the clipboard out of the hands of the unfortunate previous doctor. He took out a pen and scribbled down a few notes, “right . . . we’re going to want to work on that,” he said after he had finished.

Someone behind them sneezed, quick as lightning Voldemort turned around and cursed them too and watched in delight as they toppled to the floor.

Lucius turned to the doctor with the clip board, “isn’t there anything you can do?”

He clucked his tongue, pondering, “there is one thing.”

Voldemort’s back was to the group while continuing in the happy pursuit of muggle cursing. His laughter rang through the building. The doctor crept up behind him and clapped a collar around Voldemort’s neck. Startled he turned around, “what is this?” He tried to remove it with his hands, but it was too tight.

The doctor answered him, “that is a shock collar, every time you kill a muggle you will get an electrical shock, you ought to kick the habit in no time.”

“Hah!” yelled Voldemort, “I am the dark lord, I will do as I like.” He raised his wand and blasted a doctor in the back of the group, watching him tumble to the ground. Voldemort flinched, the collar sent a shock through his neck, “ouch, that smarts!”

“The first step,” said another doctor.


***


Harry Ron and Hermione walked out of Hogwarts castle. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were playing Quidditch today.

“Who do you think is going to win?” Hermione asked.

Harry answered at once, “Oh, Ravenclaw definitely.”

Ron nodded, “I’ll bet you fifty galleons that Ravenclaw will beat Hufflepuff by fifty points.”

Harry shook his head, “you’re on, Ravenclaw is going to win by at least eighty points.”

“How many hufflepuff players do you think will fall of their brooms this time,” Hermione added into the conversation.

Ron pondered for a few seconds, “five”

“Six,” said Harry.

“Fifty galleons?” Ron asked.

“Fifty galleons,” Harry said, agreeing to this new bet.

They entered into the stadium and took seats at the top of the stands, the game had already begun. Harry knew he should be scouting the teams playing above, but his eyes were drawn to the ground. Ravenclaw had just scored and the Ravenclaw cheerleaders had started celebrating below. Harry’s eye was drawn to a strikingly pretty girl that he did not know the name of. His eyes followed her.

“She is such a slut!” hissed Hermione. She motioned down to the target of Harry’s fixation. Harry and Ron exchanged grins beside her.

“Lets hope,” muttered Ron.

“Look at her shirt, it’s like five sizes too small,” Hermione continued with her tirade.

The cheerleaders had just finished and were walking back to the side lines, the girl Hermione was referring to stopped and saw Harry in the stands, she smiled at him. Harry’s heart started beating faster. “Aww, leave her alone Hermione,” he spoke absentmindedly.

“Why should I do that?” Hermione exploded, “look at her shirt . . . it’s so small, we don’t want to see that.”

Ron made a noise which Hermione mistook for agreement.

Harry shrugged, “well . . . ”

“Yes?” Hermione prompted.

Harry racked his brain for an excuse, “it’s ah . . . it’s good for the environment?”

“What!” said Hermione.

“Sure,” said Harry sticking to his story, “with smaller shirts they don’t have to chop down as many trees to . . . um, to clear the land to grow the . . . the cotton . . . to make the shirt.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes.

Harry elbowed Ron. Ron caught on, “Ya, Hermione, why do you hate the environment?”