Disclaimer: I don't own Sirius. I don't own Harry Potter. I don't own anything that's stamped with ©J.K. Rowling or ©Warner Brothers on it. And, finally, I don't own Potter Puppet Pals. sigh
Summary: Ghost!Sirius decides to pay a little nighttime visit to his godson so he can deliver some very crucial information ... or, at least what he thinks is vital that is …
Rated PG for some minor language and some celebrity-making-fun-of. It's just not a parody without it.
AN: This fic would not have been possible if it weren't for my crazy mind. And that's pretty much the only thing that I want to thank.
Now, without further ado, I present to you …
Some Very Vital Information from the Other Side
Harry Potter, age fifteen and in a few hours, sixteen, was fast asleep, tucked away in his bed at number four Privet Drive. During the summers, Harry was a very lonely child … that is until one of his Hogwarts friends pulled a stunt like driving a flying car to Privet Drive to smuggle Harry to his house. These events have always taken place after his birthday since age 12 but for the time that Harry was at Privet Drive, he was a very lonely child.
But on his last night of being fifteen, he would receive a very special visit, and no, it wasn't a visit of the gone slightly eccentric best friend in a flying car variety, but one of an ethereal assortment.
"Harrrrry," said a fairly creepy whisper.
The Boy Who Lived didn't respond much to this attempt of a scary awakening. Instead, the junior wizard slept on.
"Harrrrry, I am here to give you otherworldly advice and such," the eerie voice said again, in a bit louder of a voice.
The mini magician still remained slumbering.
"Harry! Wake up!" the voice said, now harsh and in an annoyed manner.
The scar-headed wonder still continued to sleep.
"Merlin, Harry, you could sleep through The Fat Lady's horrific singing in Prisoner of Azkaban that took up way too much time and had no effect to the plot while the pivotal shrieking shack scene was cut down to barely anything, couldn't you?" the voice said, with now no hint of a scary voice. Now the voice was … husky, perhaps? Yes, the voice was rather … hoarsely alluring … and slightly pissed off.
"Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrring!!!" the voice, which will now be referred to as the voice of Sirius Black, imitated an extremely annoying alarm clock.
Harry slowly kicked off his covers and blinked into the eerie supernatural glow coming from his godfather … then Harry attempted to swat the non-existent alarm, only finding his hand to pass through something that felt quite a bit like mist. It gave him a rather tingly sensation.
"Gah!" Harry exclaimed, sitting up. "Dead person in my room! Someone call the exorcist!"
"Harry, I am not … well, yes, I am, actually, fancy that, a dead person, but I'm much more than that. I'm --"
"Sirius," Harry gasped. Somewhere in the background an orchestra began to play a soft power ballad. Celine Dion began to sing … but was promptly run over by a rampaging hippogriff. "But you were iced. You croaked. Loony Bellatrix pushed you through that whack veil. It was all fo' real, yo," Harry finished, randomly falling into ghetto speak.
"Word, Lil' H. True dat, true dat," Sirius said as solemnly as a temporarily gangster ghost from the temporary hood could be. "But I am dead, Harry. I am a ghost," Sirius said, regaining his normal ghetto-free choice of words. "I've come to visit you to give you something very important and crucial for the rest of your existence."
Harry gaped at this. "You've come … you've come to tell me how to beat Voldemort and restore peace to the wizarding world?"
"No."
"Oh," Harry said, clearly discouraged. "You've come to deliver a message from my parents?"
"No," Sirius said again.
"Oh," Harry said, his eyebrows furrowing. "Then you must have come to tell me what came first; the chicken or the egg?"
"'Fraid not."
"Oh," Harry said, yet again, now even more crestfallen than the times before. "Do you at least have any Grey Poupon with you then?"
Sirius sighed. "Sadly, no."
"Then how crucial can your information be if you don't even have any Grey Poupon?" Harry asked, so bewildered that he challenged Jessica Simpson.
"Very important," Sirius said in a highly dramatic voice. Somewhere in the background that beautiful orchestra kicked in again, now playing music that represented a very significant moment.
"I have come to tell you, Harry, that --"
"Yes?" Harry pushed. "What is it, dead Sirius who may or may not just be a dream or a figment of my imagination? What is this information that you have come to share with me, your beloved godson, whom you've had to leave along with the rest of the world? I am ready to face and understand this information. I shall take it like a man; like the man my father was. I am ready. Tell me now."
Next to the picture of Dudley's overly featured head in the hallway outside Harry's door Danielle Steel and all of the Disney movie writers applauded and sobbed on each other's shoulders.
"I've come to tell you, Harry," Sirius said, putting a ghostly hand on his godson's shoulder. "That …"
"Yes?" Harry breathed.
"That …" Sirius started again.
"Yes?" Harry breathed again.
"That …" Sirius started again.
"Yes?" Harry breathed again.
"That …" Sirius started again.
"Yes?" Harry breathed again.
"That …" Sirius started again.
"Yes?" Harry breathed again.
"Don't you love building tension through overly repetitive, dull phrases, Harry?" Sirius asked.
"No," Harry said plainly. "It really sucks actually."
"True dat, word," Sirius said, once again randomly falling into that dreaded ghetto speak.
A long, extended, extensive, elongated, lengthy, stretched, time-consuming, protracted, lingering, prolonged silence took place.
"Stop with the damn building tension techniques!" Harry and Sirius both yelled in unison.
"Righto," a brunette teenage girl in glasses said as she quickly popped in the room and back out again, but not before she flipped her hair Charlie's Angels style.
"Damn fic writers trying to get some of their own spotlight," Sirius sighed.
"True dat."
"Like popping in our world for a second is going to make us all real, live, non-fictional people."
"They are rather hopeless, aren't they?" Harry said.
Ghost Sirius shrugged at this. "Sometimes they're all right. For instance, I seem to get paired up with a lot of rather fine looking original characters in fics."
"Yeah," Harry concurred. "It's all right when that happens but when that beautiful, smart, bold, funny, brave, purple-eyed original character turns into a Mary-Sue, I can't describe the horror."
"True dat, fo shizzle my nizzle."
Harry simply nodded. "Word."
Cue awkward silence and crickets
"Wait!" Harry and Sirius both yelled. "Building tension techniques!"
"There's only one person for this job," Harry said gravely.
"Yes," Sirius concurred.
…
"Who you gonna call!?!" Sirius sang.
"Ghost Busters!" Harry said energetically, pumping his fist into the air.
And 'lo and behold, the Ghost Busters arrived in a flash of silver smoke. Somewhere in the background a chorus kicked in with one long note of "Awwwwwww!"
"The power of cheese!" Harry finished as one lone piece of cheddar cheese was suddenly cast in spotlight, and a harp began to play. Once again Celine Dion tried to sing … but was immediately sucked into a vacuum cleaner.
Sirius nearly followed suit with the whole being-sucked-into-a-vacuum thing, the vacuum cleaner being manned by Bill Murray.
"You're going down, ghosty!" Bill shouted as Sirius was slowly being sucked into that damned household cleaning appliance/ghost destroyer.
"Nooooooooooooooooooo," Harry yelled, as he sprang into slow motion.
To say the least, Sirius was sucked into the vacuum. Like moving slowly will allow you to save anyone; alive or spectral.
"Nooooooooooooooooooo," Harry moaned, now no longer in the slow motion that killed his beloved Godfather … again. "Damn you Bill Murray!" Harry shouted, making dramatic gestures like no one's business.
Harry fell to the floor, sobbing. "Nooooooooooooooooooo," Harry moaned, once again. "I can't believe I lost him again and to a bloody cleaning appliance at that."
"That is pretty pathetic, kid," Bill Murray said, his vacuum cleaner/ghost destroyer still in hand.
"Shut up you wankster, yo" Harry muttered, again falling into that horrid ghetto speak.
Bill Murray sighed, and then flipped a switch on the vacuum cleaner. The switch was labeled "reverse."
And out popped the Sirius … covered in dust, dirt, lint, and just your general grime.
"I. Hate. My. Dead. Life," Sirius muttered, patting his robes in vain to rid some of the dust, dirt, lint, and just your general grime from them.
"My name is Harry Potter and you killed my Godfather … again!" Harry muttered very dangerously in a Clint Eastwood fashion. "Prepare to die."
"Er," Bill Murray stuttered. "I think I'll just disappear in a flash of silver smoke again." And so he did.
"Wait," Harry suddenly realized. "He didn't kill off the building tension techniques."
"Pfft," Sirius said. "Cheapskate."
…
"Hey Sirius?"
"Yes, Harry?"
"… Could that whole Bill Murray ordeal that had no effect to the plot whatsoever be considered a building tension technique?"
Sirius narrowed his eyes. "Yes. Yes, it could be."
"Oh."
…
"Along with all of these ellipses the authoress seems to be rather fond of?"
"Yes," Sirius hissed. "Indeed."
'Okay," Harry said.
…
"Sweet mother of monkeys!" Sirius yelped. "Could you at least find another way to make a scene transition?!?"
Chirping crickets
"Better?" The brunette girl asked, once again popping in.
Sirius contemplated. "Yes," he said finally.
Rampaging elephants
"So … what were you going to tell me, Sirius?" Harry asked after yet another long moment of silence.
"Oh, yes, right, the plot of this somewhat plotless fic," Sirius said.
Harry nodded.
"Harry," Sirius began, again putting a ghostly hand on his godson's shoulder. "Now, this information I have come to tell you is very important. The weight of the very wizarding world may very well depend on this very crucial information very, very much."
"I very much understand."
"I am very glad that you understand so very much."
"I am also very glad that you understand very much about how very much I know about how very much this very important information is … very," Harry added, just for good measure.
Sirius took a deep breath, preparing himself to tell Harry this piece of information.
"Harry," Sirius began again. "The piece of information I've come to tell you is …"
"Yes?" Harry asked.
"That …"
Once again the orchestra started again, this time with no Celine Dion attempting to sing, thank goodness.
"… Ron has to ask Hermione out on a date."
Harry blinked at Sirius.
"That's what you've come to tell me?" Harry asked. "You crossed over to the real world just to tell me THAT?"
"Er … yes."
"But every bloody person knows that!" Harry yelled. "EVERYONE WHOSE EVER EVEN HEARD OF THE NAME RON WEASLEY KNOWS THAT HE SHOULD ASK HERMIONE OUT! EVERYONE! I'VE HINTED AT IT SEVERAL TIMES MYSELF! IS IT MY FAULT THAT THEY'RE BOTH SO THICK WHEN IT COMES TO THEIR EMOTIONS THAT THEY HAVEN'T EVEN KISSED YET? HOW IS THAT MY FAULT?"
"Harry, stop the Order of the Phoenix caps."
"Sorry. Sometimes that just … happens. It's become part of my character."
"I understand … but I do have another piece of information," Sirius said.
"Okay. What is it?" Harry asked, now 100% Order of the Phoenix caps free.
"If you can't use your wand to defeat Voldemort, why don't you get a muggle goon or whatever it's called, and shoot the bastard?"
Harry blinked.
"That's … a thought. Using a gun to bring down Voldemort ghetto style, yo may just be crazy enough to work!" Harry exclaimed.
"Thank those Potter Puppet Pals things," Sirius said. "It's all them."
And with that the all-knowing Ghost!Sirius disappeared in bright, sparkly smoke.
"It's just crazy enough to work," Harry mumbled sleepily, as he fell onto his bed and drifted off to sleep. "It's just crazy enough … yo."
FINISH
AN2: Hrmm … well that turned out more pointless and plotless than originally intended. Hope you enjoyed it and laughed though. And please review! Who knows, you may just have Ghost!Sirius giving you a little nighttime visit if you do …