Virgil's Anniversary Surprise

Harry Potter

...and the Six Little Curly Fries
 * * *

This is a (really bad) fanfiction written and produced by Virgil. 

Dedicated to the Six Little Curly Fries of www.sixlittlecurlyfries.blogspot.com 

 for our birthday! 

Author's note: So you think you know how Harry Potter defeated the Dark Lord? Think again! 

You should know that this is definitely not my finest work in terms of writing style. In fact, I would go so far as to say that this might be the worst thing I've ever written. It makes no sense. Please forgive me. 

No, I'm serious. It actually sucks. 

Note on spoilers: This doesn’t really spoil a lot from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, but you might not appreciate this fanfiction as much if you haven’t read the book. 

Note: Edits by xiy and House are in purple and black . If it's something obnoxious and very short, we have used an {equally obnoxious [to spell]} fuchsia. You'll see. ;D

Chapter 1: The Dark Lord Browsing

[The following is a direct quote from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by J. K. Rowling.]

The two men appeared out of nowhere, a few yards apart in the narrow, moonlit lane. For a second they stood quite still, wands directed at each other’s chests; then, recognizing each other, they stowed their wands beneath their cloaks and started walking briskly in the same direction.

            “News?” asked the taller of the two.

            “The best,” replied Severus Snape.

            The lane was bordered on the left by wild, low-growing brambles, on the right by a high, neatly manicured hedge. The men’s long cloaks flapped around their ankles as they marched.

            “Thought I might be late,” said Yaxley, his blunt features sliding in and out of sight as the branches of overhanging tress broke the moonlight. “It was a little trickier than I expected. But I hope he will be satisfied. You sound confident that your reception will be good?”

[This is the point at which the plot deviates a little from Rowling’s Deathly Hallows]

Snape nodded. “Of course. Although we admittedly had a setback with that Trojan system, I believe we made the right decision.” His voice faltered on the last word.

            “Do not doubt yourself, Severus. There is no turning back now.” Yaxley’s eyes watched his comrade carefully as a response formed in his mind.

            “Indeed. Yet I do wonder, if maybe…”

            Yaxley shook his head. “Once you go Mac, you never go back.”

            Snape inhaled sharply and looked around to see if they were being watched. “But the Dark Lord was always such a fervent advocate of PCs! If he is displeased with this change…”

            The two wizards both shuddered involuntarily.

            “Then we shall suffer the consequences.”

            They continued walking in silence and passed through the wrought-iron gates as though they were merely made of smoke. The muffled sound of gravel crackling under their feet came to a halt when they reached the front door of the manor, which then swung inward as if opened by an invisible doorman.

            The sound of maniacal laughter was immediately noticeable as they crossed the threshold. They looked at each other but did not speak.

            The drawing room was a strange scene to behold: an ornate table, a roaring fire to provide light, an unconscious woman rotating slowly in the air above the table… but perhaps most curious of all was the snakelike man at the seat of honor, who was laughing uncontrollably with his red eyes fixed on the screen of a MacBook Air. The laptop had a personalized green case on it, with the symbol of the Dark Mark engraved where the Apple icon usually is, but it was unmistakably a Mac. 

            “My Lord,” Snape was the first to speak, “are you pleased with this replacement?”

            “Severus!” The Dark Lord giddily exclaimed. “Do you know what day it is?!”

            Snape paused, unsure of what to say. “My Lord, the Order plans to relocate Harry Potter on Saturday next, at -”

            “No, Severus! Do you know what day today is?!”

            “My–my Lord, today is Tuesday.”

            “Yes! It is Tuesday, ah, Tuesday. You, Severus, of all people, know how much I revere Maximilien Robespierre. And take a look at this!”

            Snape leaned over and read the text on the web page that Voldemort currently had open. His eyes widened. “That is truly enlightening, My Lord.”

            “Right, right. Down to business now, I suppose.” He clicked a different tab on his web browser, and a Google Docs window opened up. “I trust you all saw my post in our Facebook group?”

            The wizards and witches around the table murmured in affirmation, but not one would dare to meet his burning gaze. He knew well that none of them had read his post. The Death Eaters were notorious for neglecting to check their Facebooks, perhaps even more so than their notoriety for killing. It was common knowledge among his followers that nearly all of the Dark Lord’s news posts involved lolcat pictures that he had written captions for (usually followed by a comment along the lines of, “Bellatrix Lestrange omg thats so sinister/cute! you rock, my lord!”). Thus, the group was hardly ever frequented by its members.

            Voldemort rolled his eyes. It was so hard to find good servants these days. His gleeful smile sent a flood of consternation through everyone else present – if their lord was happy, it usually meant that somebody was about to die.

            But instead, he began to talk to them about a website.

            It was blog that, although it seemed unimportant, would shape the course of Wizarding history forever. In fact, it already had.

             

Chapter 2: The Seven Potters Minus One

Harry Potter, the Chosen One and winner of the Albus Dumbledore “Most Special Kid” award, woke suddenly to the sound of Mad-Eye Moody forcing his way through Harry’s bedroom door.

            “UP! Get up! Merlin, boy, did you forget that we would be coming tonight?”

            Harry rubbed his eyes and tried to remember the dream, but it was all fading like smoke from a blown-out candle, and within moments all he could remember was the image of a dark mark imprinted on a background of green. He shivered.

            “Are you cold, Potter? Then put some bloody clothes on. God, if I had known that you slept nude, boy, I would have…”

            “Sorry, Professor,” Harry said, blushing. Then he thought about it for a moment. “Can’t you see through clothes anyways?”

            “Still, have a sense of modesty. And I never really was a professor, so stop calling me that.”

            “Sorry.”

            “And stop apologizing! Just get up already!”   

            Harry was only just zipping up his jeans when Ron and Hermione burst through the door.

            “Hello, mate. Nice summer so far?”

            “Terrible. And yours?”

            “Full of phlegm,” Hermione replied bitterly. “I’ll explain later. For now, I just need this…” She plucked a hair off of Harry’s scalp.

            “Ouch!”

            “Seven of us are going to be Harry Potter tonight, isn’t it grand?” Ron said sarcastically. “Now I can find out if you were telling the truth about the size of your --”

            “Wait, what? I can’t let people die for me,” Harry said, striking a heroic pose, keeping sure to let the lightning scar on his forehead show.

            “Oh, stop being so honorable. It makes me sick,” said Hermione. “We’ll be seven Potters, and that’s the end of the argument.”

            Thus, seven pairs – one Potter and one guardian each – set off into the night.

* * *

            Harry, being the extra-special Chosen One, managed to get past the Death Eaters without a scratch. Hedwig, unfortunately, was not so lucky. Harry felt like he should have been crying over the loss of his bird, but he wasn’t really that upset.

            Kingsley Shacklebolt arrived at the burrow alone on the back of a Thestral. His expression was grave. Harry racked his brain to remember which of his loved ones had been paired with Kingley…

            His voice was low and somber. “Hermione was hit. I’m so sorry.” The Auror walked over to Harry and tried to give him a comforting pat on the back, but the latter shook it off. 

            Suddenly the whole entire world was turned upside-down. Hermione was no longer living, her brilliant mind was no longer spinning at a hundred miles per hour, her warm heart had stopped beating, and it was all his fault. She had died as a diversion so that he, Harry, might live. But he didn’t even deserve to live.

            The situation started to sink in. It kept sinking, deeper and deeper, until it reached the very pit of his heart and turned it into black dust.  

            Then, when we all thought that angst levels had reached an all-time high, Ron and Tonks arrived at the scene.

            “So you made it too, then? Where’s…” Ron looked at Kingsley, whose expression said it all. A look of realization dawned on his face. It momentarily turned into utter despair. After that, there was only rage.

            “WHERE’S HERMIONE?” Ron shouted and pointed his wand at Harry, who instinctively returned the gestured in defense. 

            “Ron… she…”

            “NO!” Tears were streaming down his face, and red sparks started shooting out of his wands at odd angles. Ron still looked like Harry because of the Polyjuice Potion, but Harry knew that he was staring into the eyes of the friend whom he had betrayed. It was worse than a Cruciatus Curse. “YOU BASTARD, YOU’VE KILLED HER! THIS WAS ALL FOR YOUR BLOODY PROTECTION AND NOW SHE’S DEAD!”

            “I know I…”

            “I’LL NEVER FORGIVE YOU!”

            He turned on the spot and with a ‘pop!’ he was suddenly gone. All that was left of him was a few hairs he had splinched and left behind. Harry caught them as they drifted toward the grass, on a gust of wind that should have carried Hermione safely home.

            Harry’s first thought was, “How am I going to find the Horcruxes without her?” but he immediately took back that thought. She was more important to him that that, and so was Ron. Now, he had lost both of them. He recalled their four-part harmony back in second year, singing “Not Alone” like they would always be together.

            Now he was alone.

  Chapter 3: Curly Fries

Miles away and across the sea from the Burrow, the Six Little Curly Fries were sitting in the shed behind Momo’s house. The constant pounding of raindrops on the roof was calming for some, but annoying to others.

            It was a very rare occasion – not due to the rain, but because of the fact that the Curly Fries were having an actual argument.

            “We should go in the house,” said Carrie reasonably. “It’s starting to rain harder…”

            “But I like it in here!” said Lynda, pouting.

            “NO! IT’S DAMP AND ICKY!” House argued.

            “Are you insulting my shed? Gasp!!!” Momo stuck her tongue out at House, who rolled her eyes.

            “Come on, guys. Why are you all so irritable lately?” Virgil asked. She was staring out the window and hadn’t noticed that people were talking until House’s outburst drew her out of la-la land.

            xiy said quite prudently, “Something about the last few months has put everyone on edge.”

            Everyone was quiet, because they all knew that xiy was right, as always. Nobody was sure why the Six Little Curly Fries, best friends for life, had become accustomed to arguing. There was something wrong in the atmosphere.

            Virgil poked Lynda’s sparkly, rainbow, flower-shaped earring.

            “It’s so pretty.”

            “STOP IT!!!”

             Thus, the Six Little Curly Fries continued their mini-shindig in Momo’s shed. The irritation amongst them got worse as they argued about which professors were the worst (Virgil insisted that Snape, the Potions Master, was actually good, but nobody else agreed with her). They normally attended school at Hogwarts as well as a Muggle high school in their neighborhood, but since the Time-Turners had been inexplicably broken, they hadn’t gone to any Hogwarts classes for nearly three weeks. Perhaps they just missed doing magic.

            The rain subsided, and the Curly Fries made an unspoken agreement to stop speaking to each other for the night. Perhaps it would be better in the morning.

            Virgil, who was already prepared for bed, sighed and watched the other Curly Fries get ready. Carrie took off her Converse shoes; Momo put away the Play-Doh she had been playing with; xiy removed the paint brush that she kept tucked behind her ear; Lynda took off her pretty rainbow earrings; House took her piccolo out of her pocket and set it aside.    

            The tension relaxed after that. The Six Little Curly Fries went to sleep, and they dreamed dreams of Hogwarts.

                       

* * *

Rufus Scrimgeour, a man who was rather like an old lion, sat in front of Harry with a grim expression.

            “So…”

            “‘To Harry James Potter, I leave the Snitch he caught in his first Quidditch match at Hogwarts, as a reminder of the rewards of perseverance and skill.’ Here you go.”

            Harry took the Snitch in his hands, but nothing happened.

            “I guess I thought something would happen. Oh, well. I guess you’re on your own now, Potter. Don’t forget that the fate of the world rests on your shoulders.” The Minister patted Harry on the back sympathetically and then left.

            Harry had no idea what to do. All he knew was that he had to get on the move, because as long as he stayed in one place, he was not safe from the Death Eaters.

            It was time to take drastic action and find those Horcruxes. Where on earth could they be?

            Harry looked down at the Snitch and remembered the last words Albus Dumbledore ever spoke to him:

            In your hour of distress, call upon the Six Little Curly Fries. They will guide you. Duh.

            Harry had no idea what Dumbledore had been talking about, but since he had no other instructions, Harry set off into the unknown world of the Internet in search of the 6LCF.

Chapter 4: Horcruxes

“Hey. Um, hello?”

            It was 5 a.m. in the morning. The Six Little Curly Fries were all fast asleep. (Except for House--a zombie who never slept--who

was on the computer IM-ing with a person who could conjugate nouns.)
            “Um, sorry to disturb you girls, but I think I need your help…”

            Carrie was the first to wake up. She raised her head from her pillow and saw the man who was standing in the shed with a pained look on his face, rubbing his forehead.

            “Who are you?” Carrie asked.

            “Who am I? Who am I? I’m Harry Frickin’ Potter! How do you not know who I am?!”

            Carrie shrugged.

            Virgil, who immediately sat up straight at the sound of the word “Potter,” started going crazy. House, who had just walked into the room, and Momo joined in as she sang a chorus of “Harry Frickin’ Potter” in salute to their hero.

            “We’re you’re biggest fans!” Virgil said to him.

            “Actually, it’s just her. The rest of us are just normal-sized fans,” said House.

            “Well, not Lynda. She’s a really skinny Fan.”

            “What?” Harry was confused, and he had a headache. His Potter Senses (TM) were tingling in that terrible way that happens when Voldemort was near. But he couldn’t see Voldemort anywhere in the shed, so perhaps it was just a migraine. “I forgot it’s so early in the morning here. Ten seconds ago before I Apparated, it was like ten in the morning.”

            “Those are called time zones, Harry,” xiy said with a yawn.

            “Yeah, whatever. Look, you’re the Six Little Curly Fries, right?”

            “Yep,” they all chorused together.

            “Well, it seems like I need your help. How much do you know about Horcruxes?”

* * *

            Six girls and one young man were crowded around a computer, Googling “Horcruxes.” Every time they tried, all they came up with was, “You should really stop trying to learn so much about Horcruxes; it’s freaking me out” on the Google page.

            Suddenly, Carrie spoke up.

            “Uh, guys? Did any of you see the latest comment on my post from this week? I think it might have to do with this.”

            House asked, “What is it?”

            “I don’t know. I thought it was spam or something.”

            So they went to www.sixlittlecurlyfries.blogspot.com and sure enough, there was a new comment on the Wednesday post from that week.

            The Dark Lord said…

            You sound cute. Can I have yo numbah?

            You can be my Dark Lady, and we'll rule the world together and put Mudbloods like those other Curly Fries in their place.
           
            <3
            Tommy  

          Harry’s eyes widened. Virgil nearly fainted.

            “It can’t be…” Harry said.

            “Is it Volde --”

            “Shh!!” Harry cut Lynda off. “The name’s taboo. Let’s call him Tom.”

            “You think this is really Tom?”

            “Who else could it be?”

            Harry shook his head. He still had a headache.

            “Wait…” Virgil began, “Tommy-boy here obviously likes our blog, right?” The others only gave her blank stares. “And he would have made Horcruxes of things that are important to him. So what if the Horcuxes have to do with us?”

            “Yes!” xiy said. “Maybe they’re our own possessions; maybe they’re in this very room…” Everyone looked around suspiciously. Understanding suddenly dawned on Harry – this was no mere headache.

            “How can we tell where the Horcruxes are?”

            “Well, we need a magical Horcrux-detecting amulet. Duh,” replied Virgil.

            “Or,” suggested House, “We could just hold things up to Harry’s head, and the ones that make it hurt must be the Horcruxes.”

            “I don’t like that idea very much,” Harry said anxiously. He was a man, and therefore did not have any tolerance for pain whatsoever.

            The Six Little Curly Fries ran about the house, finding objects and holding them up to Harry’s head.

            “Nope,” he said to the sticker machine. “Nope,” he said to the iPad. “Nope. Nope. Nope.”

            It took a great many tries, but at last they found five Horcruxes: Carrie’s converse shoes, Lynda’s beautiful rainbow earrings, xiy’s paintbrush, Momo’s play-doh, and House’s piccolo.

            “So how are we going to get rid of these?” Virgil asked. She was very aware of the fact that there was one object of every Curly Fry except her, but she didn’t want to point out the obvious.

            Momo suddenly said “Ouch!” and took off her extra-long winter hat that she had been wearing. She held it in her hands, and her eyes widened. “Find.”

            It was the sword of Godric Gryffindor, right there in Momo’s hat.  

            Each Curly Fry took turns destroying her own Horcrux respectively, until there was none left but Virgil. House began to cry a tiny bit, mourning the loss of her integrity. Er, piccolo. 

            “What’s an object that’s really special to you, Virgil?” Harry asked.

            “It’s probably something that has been making you irritated lately,” suggested xiy. “That’s the effect they’ve certainly had on the rest of us.”

            Virgil thought for a moment. “Oh, I know! My quill!”

            “Where is it?” Everyone asked in unison.

            “Um… Ravenclaw Tower, Hogwarts.”

            Lynda rolled her eyes. “That’ll be easy.”

Chapter Five: The End

After Apparating to Hogwarts, Harry and the Six Little Curly Fries found that the school was under attack by Death Eaters.

            “I’ll fight them all off singlehandedly,” said Harry, “Because I’m Harry Frickin’ Potter. You guys just have to go find the Horcrux and kill it, okay?

            “Got it!” Virgil knew exactly where she had left the quill, and in no time, they found it up in the Ravenclaw dormitory. She killed it with a single stab, so now there was only one piece of Voldemort’s soul left.

            Harry and Voldemort were dueling to the death in the middle of the Great Hall. When the Curly Fries entered, the entire atmosphere shifted. The Dark Lord’s snakelike eyes lit up with delight.

            “The Six Little Curly Fries?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!” he gasped with glee. “I’m such a huge fan of your blog! I --”

            And then he died. Harry had killed him while he was distracted by the awesomeness of the Six Little Curly Fries. It was the first and last time Harry would ever say the Killing Curse. He was shaken up, but he was glad that the little ordeal with Voldemort was finally over.

            “You know, it’s weird. I always had a feeling that maybe there was a Horcrux attached to my own soul or something,” Harry said.

            The Six Little Curly Fries all laughed. “That’s the most ridiculous thing we've ever heard.”

THE END!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Thank you for reading my present! If you got all the way through without dying, I applaud you.

Love,
Virgil

P.S.  Virgil has promised a 50,000 word Part II before April 30th. If she does not keep true to this promise, we all have her permission to send her to Maxie's guillotine.

(jk.)
{... jk.}