Harry Potter sat on the stairs outside the kitchen of number twelve Grimmauld Place, his mind racing. He had just suffered a disturbing dream/vision, (he wasn't quite sure which, as usual) concerning Lord Voldemort, and Albus Dumbledore had immediatley whisked him away from Privet Drive to the unsafer confines of the headquaters of the Order of the Phoenix. (What was that man thinking?)
He sat there, listening to the low rumblings of Severus Snape as he gave his account of the nights events. Suddenly, the door was thrown open, and silhouetted against the bright light of the kitchen stood Remus John Lupin, werewolf, defense against the Dark Arts professional, dancer extraordinarre.
"Come in, Harry, we need you to tell us what you saw," his mentor said wearily. He had been dancing against the Dark Arts all night, and he was exhausted.
Harry sat down beside his old professor, trying to collect his thoughts. It had been so awful...
"We need you to tell us the exact nature of your vision, Harry," said Albus Dumbledore kindly.
Aha, so it's visions I'm having, Harry thought to himself.
"Take your time, Harry," Remus said.
"Well, it's hard to remember everything..."
"That's alright son," said Remus encouragingly.
"But ... well..."
"Come on Potter, spit it out!!!"
"That will do, Severus," came the soothing voice of the headmaster.
"Well ..." Harry began," Voldemort was there ..."
"Yes?"
"And ... he ... he ..."
"Yes?!"
"He ... he was drinking hot chocolate ... WITHOUT ANY MARSHMALLOWS!!!" Harry bellowed, before burying his face in his arms and bursting into tears. Molly Weasley bustled over to comfort him, whilst the rest of the table quickly backed away from the mess he was creating.
"I'm afraid this is much more serious than we may have originally anticipated," said Dumbledore. "It appears that young Harry here has inherited Voldemort's obsession ... with marshmallows."
There was a collective gasp around the table, and cries of disbelief.
"He didn't even have little ones, like the sort people use in desserts!" Harry sobbed.
"I know Harry, I know." Dumbledore said quietly, his bright blue eyes full of tears.
"Anyway," Remus interjected (the whole situation was becoming a little too emotional), "there's something you must know Harry. Through Severus the Order has learned of a plan of Voldemort's to achieve what he has always desired, one so despicible that we must tell you immediatley, instead of just arousing your suspicion and interest, and then allowing you to blunder through the rest of the book wondering what it could be, like last time." He shot a particularily nasty look at Dumbledore, who was in fact playing with his beard at the time and consequently didn't notice.
"What is it Remus?" asked Harry feverently.
"See if you can guess."
"Guess?!"
"Think Harry, think of the worst."
Harry thought, and eventually the worst clicked with him.
"He ... he's ... he's going to.."
"Yes, Harry."
"He's going to steal my Firebolt?!!!" Harry looked into the sombre faces of the Order, except for Snape, who was sniggering slightly.
Remus stared at his adopted godson, sadness and disappointment evident in his tired grey eyes. How many books had they gone through by now, and still the boy couldn't recognise true evil? He was always surprised and unprepared, every time.
"Six," Snape said suddenly, reading Lupin's thoughts.
"What?"
"We've gone through six books."
"No ..." said Remus slowly, counting them on his fingers, "we've only gone through five, Severus."
"That's what you think," said Snape smoothly, and resumed his sniggering. "Potter, stop snivelling about your stupid broomstick. The Dark Lord wants to be in the title of the next book, and he'll stop at nothing. Personally, I think he should be, you're far too arrogant as it is."
Harry, whose mouth had opened angrily at the insult of his beloved broomstick, closed it quickly again in horror.
"That's right, Harry, and if he succeeds he will achieve his dream of immortality, for he will be immortalised in the title and live forever in the minds of the countless generations that will read the book!" Remus finished dramatically.
"But, Remus," Harry said slowly, logic striking him hard on the head, "won't he be immortalised anyway, as he is a character in the story, like you or me? In fact, won't we all live forever, in the minds of the fans?"
The Order stared at Harry, dumbfounded.
"That's precisely the kind of logic that Voldemort doesn't bother himself with Harry, and neither should you," said Dumbledore coldly. "You're ruining the story."
"But Voldemort can't take the title away from me, it's what makes me special and cooler than Ron or Hermione! I know I've complained a lot about the burden of fame and responsibility, but I love it really!"
"Aha!" said Snape under his breath.
"We know Harry, and that's why we've all banded together to help you." Dumbledore smiled.
"We have, have we?!" Snape snorted indignantly.
Harry looked at them all with a fierce sense of gratitude. At least things couldn't get any worse.
"Harry dear," came Mrs. Weasley's voice from the pantry, "we're out of marshmallows!"
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!" screamed Harry in anguish.