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Addicted by Lady Wolf

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“Hello. My name is Minerva McGonagall, and I’m addicted to drag broom racing,” said Minerva curtly. She sat down next to a man that looked like a toad.

“Hi, Minerva!” Everyone chorused.

“Hello. My name is Harry Potter, and I’m addicted to tissues,” said Harry, waving to everyone in turn, and taking a seat near Minerva.

“Hi, Harry!” Cried Colin Creevey. But the author realized that she didn’t want Colin in her story and therefore made him explode into a million pieces. It wasn’t a sad ending for Mr. Creevey. No, he joined the ranks of many other delightfully irritating characters, which included (but wasn’t limited to) Gilderoy Lockhart, Peeves the Poltergeist, and that Quirrell guy - you know, the one with the smelly turban that was in the first book?

“Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father; prepare to die,” said a strange Spanish man, resting a hand on his six-fingered sword.

“Erm... I think you’re in the wrong story,” said the toad-looking man.

“Terribly sorry.” Inigo Montoya bowed in apology and moonwalked out of the room.

“Hello. My name is Hermione Granger, and I’m addicted to hair grease,” sniffled Hermione. She blew her nose in a Kleenex and sat down next to Harry. Harry glared at her, because he was mindless and addicted to tissues.

“GASP!” Chorused everyone.

“I know!” Cried Hermione, burying her face in the tissue (Harry grumbled).

The toad man lay a comforting hand on Hermione’s shoulder. “There, there. This is good that you’ve come here. Admitting your addiction is the first stage in overcoming it!” He handed her another tissue (Harry folded his arms and frowned at the floor).

“Hello, my name is Lucius Malfoy. I’m addicted to pimp canes,” said the tall bleach-blonde man. He clutched his pimp cane close to his chest, stroking it and muttering; “no one’s going to take you away from me, precious. My pimp cane. My good, sweet, terribly supportive pimp cane...”

Everyone blinked in unison.

A small blonde boy beside Lucius stood up. “My name is Draco Malfoy, and I have this unhealthy obsession with being beaten by my father.”

Everyone gasped in unison (they were very good at that). The toad man looked harassed (after all, a hobo named Bob had just felt him up).

Lucius promptly struck his son in the head with his pimp cane. “I NEVER BEAT YOU, YOU LITTLE GEORGIA PEACH!” He took a moment to pet his pimp cane and make sure it was okay, then he looked back at Draco. “I’m only preparing you for life!”

“Hello, my name is Albus Dumbledore,” smiled an elderly man with a long white beard, “and I have an obsession with...”

“Don’t be afraid, we won’t judge you,” cooed the toad man.

Dumbledore swallowed. “My beard.”

Harry cocked his head to one side. “Do you wash that thing with shampoo?”

Once again, everyone blinked in unison.

“Anyways,” said the toad man. “My name is Regis, and I’ll be your councilor this evening.”

“Hiiiiiiiiiiiii Regis!” Chorused everyone. This time they sounded a lot like that fake doctor on The Simpsons.

“Could I have that tissue when you‘re done?” Asked Harry. He was staring at Hermione as she wiped her nose, his eyes full of yearning.

“Now, now, Mr. Potter,” chuckled Regis, “you came here so that you may STOP obsessing over tissues.”

“But what about Lucius! He’s talking to his pimp cane!” Shouted Harry.

Lucius chucked a big black dog at Harry.

“OOF!” Harry tumbled back in his chair with the big black dog on top of him. The dog, however, had turned into Harry’s godfather, Sirius Black.

“Sirius!” Every girl in the room squealed and fainted, for everyone knew that Sirius Black was the Hogwarts man-whore. And he wasn’t dead like a certain author - who shall remain nameless - stated he was. Nope, certainly not dead. And, for some odd reason, he resembled an actor named Gary Oldman. (shrug) Go figure.

Sirius leapt to his feet and struck a pose. “Yes, it is I, the extremely hot and sexy Sirius Black.” He grabbed Hermione up in his arms and planted a big kiss on her lips. Hermione fell back in her seat, giggling and running a hand through her greasy hair. Her giggle turned into a sorrowful whine as, for the millionth time, her hand stuck to her head.

Dumbledore began to run a brush through his beard, humming a song under his breath that sounded a lot like “I’ve got a Lovely Bunch of Coconuts.” All eyes fell on him... and he screamed because, well, wouldn’t YOU scream if a bunch of eyes fell on you?

“Mr. Dumbledore! Kindly shut your trap!” Yelled Regis. Minerva smacked him upside the head.

“How DARE you speak to the Headmaster like that?!” She exclaimed. Face red with anger, the Transfiguration professor pulled her broom out of her purse and began whacking Regis in the head.

Harry, Sirius, and Lucius began to chant: “Minnie, Minnie, she’s our girl, she’s the hottest chick in the world!”

Hermione arched an eyebrow at Harry, who shrugged and grinned sheepishly.

At last Minerva stopped beating Regis silly, and hopped on her broom and flew out the window into the night. In the distance, everyone could here the call of a werewolf (who just so happened to be named Remus Lupin), and McGonagall giggling furiously.

“Well, now we know what Lupin does on nights of the full moon,” said Harry.

“Don’t you mean ‘who’?” Corrected Hermione.

Suddenly Harry turned to his very-much-alive godfather. “So Sirius, what brings you here?”

Sirius hung his head sadly. “Well Harry, I too have an addiction.”

Everyone stared in awe as Sirius Black (who was ALIVE AND WELL!) strode to the center of the room. “I... am addicted to love.”

“Aww,” chorused the girls in the room.


Harry cackled with glee as he rushed out of the room with Hermione’s tissue.

Everyone stared after him, wondering what the hell that boy had been smoking. (Hermione was still trying to detach her hand from her head)

“That was odd,” said Draco thoughtfully.

“Shut up, boy!” Barked Lucius. He cracked his cane over his son’s head; causing not just a concussion on Draco’s part, but breaking the awesome snakehead off Lucius’ pimp cane. Malfoy Sr. cradled his broken cane against his chest and began rocking back and forth. “No, no, no.” (Draco had passed out)

“Anyone up for Cappuccinos and pasta?” Inquired Dumbledore in a jolly tone.

“That sounds lovely!” Cried Hermione, jerking her hand from her hair. What resulted was a bald spot and a hairy hand, but a rather chipper young Gryffindor.

And so Regis, Dumbledore, and Hermione skipped out of the room. They lived happily ever after.

The End.