Somewhere in London...

The year was 1990, and it had been eight months since Dumbledore and Lucius had been employed by the CIA. Women started to sing the tales of old and lightning hit dramatically against the hard concrete of Privet Drive, perfectly foretelling the chaos that was soon to ensure - for anyone who would dare to listen. Thunder roared ad Dumbledore struggled to drive his newly purchased car.

"A coat of gold, or a coat of red

A lion still has claws

And mine are long and sharp, my Lord

As long and sharp as yours"

The women of "Wands and Charms"; (the local brothel in Knockturn alley), sang, for they knew the end was near…

Albus decided he was having a rather good day, aside from an annoying fly buzzing against his ear and his sore throat from an excessive consumption of Sherbet lemons the previous day. The buzzing grew louder and louder until he finally released it wasn't a fly at all, it was Lucius Malfoy grumbling about the instability of Mudblood finance from the front seat of the car next to him.

Dumbledore sped up the car, pondering how he and Lucius got along so well, despite their oversized egos.

The women sang louder…

The CIA had done some investigating and were close to discovering the world of wizardry. The ministry had to quickly derail this revealing investigation so they sent Albus Dumbledore and Lucius Malfoy to quickly go and fix the situation. Lucius liked to think he was a man of logic while Dumbledore liked to think he was a man of wisdom. Together they penetrated the CIA and managed to work their way to the top of the CIA's "suspicious and unexplainable occurrences" unit.

By now, Lucius had moved on from Mudblood tax evasion and had begun to vent about the 'inefficiencies' of age.

"My friend, I believe the term you are looking for is undesirable. You see, death is anything but inefficient." Dumbledore pitched into Lucius's one sided conversation with himself with chilling calmness.

"Undesirable it is then. However, denying the fact that death is inefficient to our life goals makes you seem rather dark and this does not suit your painfully optimistic attitude. I admit my wording may have been a little off, but I was getting to the point until was quite rudely interrupted by you! Oh, and do try to keep up that happy outlook on life, which you were failing at rather sadly right now, because Merlin forbid you say anything other than some sort of inspiring monologue! " countered Lucius triumphantly.

"I'm not in the mood for existential debates with you, Lucius." scoffed Dumbledore, trying to soothe his precious ego.

"Too morbid for you, Albus?" Lucius said with a smug grin on his face, his imagination going wild as he thought of extremely 'morbid' things..

"Nothing is too morbid for me, I am an icon of wisdom" said Dumbledore, rivalling Lucius's face with unchecked smirk of his own.

To that they both chuckled.

"To be honest with you, I am not up for existential debates either. You see, I have a terrible headache. Dobby really doesn't understand when to stop pouring wine. You would think that as soon as Narcissa started smashing up treasured family heirlooms in a fit of drunken rage, it would be a good time to stop." Lucius grumbled.

Dumbledore uncharacteristically let out a girlish giggle.

These two had gotten rather close since this whole CIA investigation had started. Who would have thought that Lucius - the smug pureblood fascist of the dark side would get along with Dumbledore - the hopeful old man of the light. As they laughed together in the car, making petty jokes, it was truly a sight to behold.

Dumbledore leaned over to the car's radio (which he had replaced with a supposed 'time travel' radio that he had bought from a sketchy looking man claiming to be 'The Doctor') controls and turned up Shakira's song "Hips don't lie", swaying along to the crude lyrics.

The women in the brothel sang even louder…

Dumbledore and Lucius were on their way to quickly retrieve Mrs Figg's magic cats before that stupid-good-for-nothing "Fox Muldey" guy, came over from America to investigate. The man was relentless in his attempts to find the wizarding world. The ministry had debated whether it was better to simply kill or obliviate the guy. Dumbledore had stepped in and convinced them to take a more peaceful approach. The Ministry of Magic decided to take control of his mind and make him believe that the strange happenings he had encountered were simply signs of an Alien invasion. This meant that nobody took the poor, confused man seriously.

The women sang extremely loud, to the point of screaming…

As Shakira's song came to a sad conclusion, Drake's song "Hotline Bling" started playing on the radio. Fed up with Muggle music, Dumbledore pointed his wand at the radio and yelled "ascendio" and the radio shot skywards, ripping a giant hole in the car roof and scaring the hell out of Lucius.

"Holy sh*t Dumbledore! Ascendio? What the actual hell were you thinking?"

Almost missing the turn-off because of Lucius' sudden yelling, Dumbledore quickly swerved the car around the corner. The very familiar "Private Drive" sign came into view. The street was eerily quiet…

The women screeched so loudly that the monstrous noise they created managed to burst the eardrum of an elderly lady walking past the brothel. She had recently lost a rather nasty game of poker and was making her way to the slums of Knockturn Alley when she collapsed, of shock. But hey, the noise was so loud it effectively cured her of her deafness.

"Now what were you saying about that muggle 'tax fraud'?" asked Dumbledore, attempting to fill the now Shakira-less car with conversation.

"No, no, no! Tax evasion, I clearly said Tax evasion! You see Tax evasion is this muggle thing…" Lucius continued his rambling and Dumbledore listened with one ear. He was feeling very 'Holy'.

Lightning filled the sky and rain dripped down the front window of the car.

The women were now practically screaming…

"How do muggles see out the front window? Surely it's impossible, right?" Lucius asked, his voice laced with concern as Dumbledore's driving went out of control.

"Yes, I am growing a rather large respect for these muggles, I'm finding it very difficult to see out the window myself" He replied.

"Can't yer be a bit quieter ye, damn wh*res!" screamed a beastly half giant who simply wanted to go on a nice walk through knockturn alley. In reply, the women sang louder…

"Haven't muggles created something to wipe away the rain?" Lucius inquired.

"Actually I think they have! The invention was called… called... something like 'win scream vipers' I thi-"

Something thin and lanky ran across the road. Was it one of Mrs Figg's cats?

"Stop! Stop! Look out!" cried Lucius, far too late.

The women now sung so loud that all the windows of the building smashed...

Bang!

Dumbledore quickly stopped the car. Frantically, he took off his seatbelt and rushed out the car door…

As he approached what he believed to be a cat, he was surprised by its humanoid appearance.

He approached the figure.

It was a human.

A child.

A boy.

They had run over a little boy.

"Oh- oh my g-goodness, you ran over a child, holy sh*t, holy sh*t, holy sh*t! W-we are going to Azkaban… Oh no, oh no…" Lucius whimpered, in a very Weasley-like fashion

Dumbledore lifted up the boy and moved a strand of the child's hair to reveal a lightning bolt shaped scar.

"HOLY SH*T" Dumbledore yelled

They had just run over Harry Potter…

"And so he spoke, and so he spoke-

That Lord of Castamere.

And now the rains weep o'er his halls,

With no one there to hear"

The women sang slightly quieter now, after receiving a fine from the ministry for 'disrupting neighboring establishments'.

Meanwhile in King's Landing…

Joffrey couldn't contain his joy. The scene being reenacted in front of him was far too funny; he was practically choking on his own breath. Gasping, he lurched to his feet, almost knocking over his tall, two-handed chalice. He peered down at the two dwarfs, still straddling each other, breathing heavily after wrestling each other to be the first to mount. The dwarfs untangled themselves, no doubt anticipating the royal thanks.

"You are not a true champion." said Joffrey "A true champion defeats all challengers."

The king climbed up onto the grand table before him.

"Who else will challenge our tiny champion?"

With a gleeful smile, he turned toward Tyrion.

"Uncle! You'll defend the honour of my realm, won't you? You can ride the pig!"

Laughter filled the gardens, and Joffrey's uncle rose.

"Your Grace" he called, "I'll ride the pig... but only if you ride the dog!"

Joffrey scowled, confusion spread across his angelic features. He couldn't quite grasp what the little monster was insinuating.

"M-me?" Joffrey faltered "I'm no dwarf. Why me?"

"Why, you're the only man in the hall that I'm certain of defeating!" Tyrion replied gleefully.

The crowd laughed and Joffrey's cheeks turned a satisfying shade of pink. His face then contorted into an expression of complete rage.

Joffrey turned to his mother, who wore an equal expression of rage, and then looked to the imp who was staring at his mother smugly, before blowing her a sarcastic kiss. The nerve that stupid little monster had!

Enraged by his uncle, Joffrey rose, walked over to him, and tipped his wine all over the man. Tyrion, now freshly 'Carrie-fied', blinked continuously in shock.

"That was ill done, Your Grace," he heard Ser Garlan say quietly, unsure of his words.

"Not at all, Ser Garlan." Tyrion said, trying to prevent this from becoming any uglier than it was, with half the realm looking on. "Not every king would think to honour a humble subject by serving him from his own royal chalice. A pity the wine spilled."

Joffrey, obviously not understanding that Tyrion was trying to salvage the situation, responded "It didn't Spill, and I wasn't serving it either!

Margaery, not wanting this to get out of hand, walked over and attempted to remove Joffrey from the situation "My sweet king, come, return to your place, there's another singer waiting."

"Alaric of Eysen," said Lady Olenna Tyrell, leaning on her cane "I do so hope he plays us 'The Rains of Castamere.' It has been an hour, I've forgotten how it goes."

The women, now feeling very encouraged, sang even louder, in hopes Lady Olenna may hear it from an entirely different world.

"Ser Addam has a toast he wants to make as well," said Margaery. "Your Grace, please."

"I have no wine," Joffrey declared. "How can I drink a toast if I have no wine? Uncle Imp, you can serve me. Since you won't joust you'll be my cupbearer."

"I would be most honoured." Tyrion responded

"No, no, no! The imp wasn't supposed to enjoy it!" thought Joffrey.

"It's not meant to be an honour!" Joffrey screamed. "Bend down and pick up my chalice."

Tyrion did as he was told, but as he reached for the handle Joffrey kicked the chalice through his legs.

"Pick it up! Are you as clumsy as you are ugly?"

Tyrion had to crawl under the table to find the chalice.

"Good, now fill it with wine." He claimed a flagon from a serving girl and filled the goblet three-quarters full. "No, on your knees, dwarf."

Kneeling, Tyrion raised up the heavy cup, wondering if he was about to get a second bath. But Joffrey took the wedding chalice one-handed, drank deep, and set it on the table.

"You can get up now, Uncle."

In Private Drive…

"Oh my-" stuttered Lucius "That's not who I think it is, right?"

"I'm a-afraid so Lucius, I believe w-we just killed The Boy Who Lived!"

"Don't just stand there... Do something!" cried Lucius, petrified with shock.

"Y-yeah r-right. U-uh, fu-f*ck!" stamperred Dumbledore "Okay, okay, con-concentrate Albus, concentrate Albus - shi-sh*t!"

Dumbledore grabbed his wand and pointed it at the unconscious, possibly dead child.

This situation was so wrong, Dumbledore couldn't think straight.

"R-Repairo" Dumbledore said, flicking his wand desperately.

Nothing happened.

"Repairo!?" cried Lucius incredulously.

"Y-yeah... right-" Dumbledore stamperred "uh-uh..."

Crap, what was the boy's name again?

Drarry?

Bran?

Larry?

Jeffrey?

"Uh-uh, AccioJoffrey!" Dumbledore cried pointing his wand at the boy. Panic riddled his face and he gripped the Elder extremely hard before it snapped in two.

"ACCIO!?" screamed Lucius "AND WHO THE F*CK IS JOFFREY?"

Harry Potter violently started shaking. Lucius and Dumbledore shared a look of bemusement and pure horror. "Well that worked..." Lucius and Dumbledore chorused.

Back in King's Landing…

After the pie had been cut, Joffrey demanded Tyrion pour him wine, which he did rather reluctantly.

"It seems that my uncle hasn't eaten his pigeon pie." Holding the chalice with one hand, Joffrey jammed his own fork into Tyrion's pie. "It's ill luck not to eat the pie," he scolded as he filled his mouth with hot spiced pigeon.

"See? It's good." Spitting out flakes of crust, he coughed and helped himself to another mouthful. "Dry though- needs washing down." Joffrey took a swallow of wine and coughed again, more violently.

"I want to see- *cough* -See you ride that- *cough* -pig, Uncle. I want . . . "

His words, no longer distinguishable, were interrupted by a fit of coughing.

Margaery looked at him with concern. "Your Grace?"

"It's- *cough* - the pie." Joffrey took another drink, or tried to, but all the wine came spewing back out when another spate of coughing doubled him over. His face was turning red.

"I- *cough* -I can't- *cough-cough-cough*" The chalice slipped from his hand and dark red wine spilled across the dais.

"He's Choking!" cried Mageary. "Help the poor boy-"

Joffrey couldn't hear anything.

He fell to the ground.

All he could feel was pain.

The last thing he saw was his Mother.

She was screaming something.

He didn't know what-

And he didn't care.

He looked into her eyes one final time,

Before he shut his own

And embraced the end.

"Yes, now the rains weep o'er his halls

And not a soul to hear"

With this, the women ended their song.

And then the two worlds collided and all senses of logic and reason were lost…

Joffrey's eyes fluttered open to stare into the eyes of God.

Or was it mother?

No, it wasn't mother's eyes.

These eyes had a strange sort of twinkle…

It was definitely God: long haired, bearded and majestic.

Joffrey blinked

"Is this Heaven?"

"No my boy, It's hell"

Joffrey wasn't sure why the supposed God was calling him "his boy" because he certainly didn't have any Jesus like tendencies.

He may not be Jesus, but he thought himself a good lad; in his own eyes, he was practically a saint. Maybe God had him confused with someone else, because Joffrey was sure he belonged in Heaven, not hell.

"Who am I?"

"'The chosen one', 'The boy who lived', 'The Golden savior'!" God told him.

Well, he knew that already.

"Yes, that's old news- but what is my name?" Joffrey asked, just to make sure God had not confused him for somebody else.

"I believe it's 'Harry' " replied God sarcastically, glancing at the blonde queer beside him.

Who the actual F*ck was Harry?

NEXT TIME…

*BANG*

A beastly Half-Giant could be seen at the doorway. He looked suspiciously like Joffrey's father, King Robert, but instead of a well-trimmed kingly appearance, he was rocking a dishevelled peasant-like sort of look and was about double as tall.

"D-Daddy?! Have you come to rescue me from this nightmare?" cried Joffrey

Authors notes~

This is a mostly crack-fic, so please don't take it to seriously. We obviously don't own Game of Thrones, Harry Potter, Drake and Shakira (that would be weird). It would be greatly appreciated if you would follow/ favourite and review, it lets us know that people are reading our stories and makes us feel good. We also appreciate any criticism and well, it helps to improve our writing. For all who are wondering the song that the women of the brothel sing is "Rains of Castamere".

How will the world cope with Joffrey's magnificent presence? We will write another chapter and you can see Joffrey's reaction to the Dursleys and find out how he will cope without mommy and not being the #1 child.

*Gives virtual hug for reading*