Harry's... happy...mind

By: Me

Chapter one-ish

Harry was bored. He was just sitting on his bed in his room. I'm bored, he thought to himself. Hey, I just thought a thought while writing it down on paper. I can MULTITASK! I'm so proud of myself. I wonder if I can have a conversation with Ron through my mind. (Yes, Harry is somewhat smart, but in this he's, well, um, kind-of odd... in the head.) Ron? Ron, can you hear me? Ronnnnnnnnnn? Aw, well, at least I tried.

Harry got up and walked backwards out of his room while singing the bologna song. Well, he would have if he had remembered to open his door. He tried to walk down the stairs backwards, too. Not too smart of a move. It might have gotten him down them faster, but at the price of a very large boo-boo.

Picking himself up off the ground, Harry had not yet learned his lesson in walking backwards. This time he ran into Dudley. Meeting a wall at forty-five miles per hour is sure to help you learn. Clutching his nose and swearing at Dudley for pushing him, he walked forward into the kitchen. Opening the freezer, Harry found the world's greatest desire, chocolate ice cream with brownies. An entire gallon, too. This freezer was heaven to Harry.

"POTTER!" Oh, crap. Harry thought. Aunt Petunia had caught him sneaking the ice cream. "CLOSE THAT FREEZER DOOR THIS INSTANT AND DON'T LET ME CATCH YOU SNEAKING THAT ICE CREAM!"

"Fine..." Harry said out loud, but after his aunt had left he added, "I won't let you catch me." He opened the freezer door again to see a hole in the back of it. His heaven was gone, ruined by Dudley and his massive Fists of Doom. Revenge shall be mine. You shall pay. Hmm, I wonder if I could magic up some ice cream. The Ministry would understand. I mean, this would classify as an emergency.

Upstairs, Harry tried contacting Ron with his mind again. No luck. I'm hungry, but I don't know how to magic up my ice cream. I want ice cream. Ice cream is my precious. My precious. Very quickly, a Gollum face took over him. As fast as it had come, it was gone.

Hmm, I like cheese. And apparently, so was Harry's brain.

Chapter Twelve... It's in between one and two.

Harry had gotten a wonderful idea of revenge, but unfortunately it included porridge. Harry hated the stench of porridge after Dudley had pour a bowl of straight from the microwave oatmeal in his hair and down his back. It burned and wouldn't come out.

Throwing that revenge out the window, he began to get a wonderful idea, a wonderful, horrible idea! He would use Dudley's gluttonous personality against him. Reaching under the loose floorboard, Harry picked up a box of Honeyduke's fudge.

Harry walked to Dudley's door and hesitated. I wonder how hard Dudley would beat me up for this. Oh, well, I can run fast.

Harry swallowed his pride (and brain) and knocked on Dudley's door. He tied the fudge to a piece of string and ran to his room. The distant thud of Dudley walking told Harry he was walking towards the door. Two minutes later he saw the sudden rush of drool that meant Dudley had looked down.

Harry pulled on the string and the fudge started to move. Ever stupid Dudley followed and with each step a shower of dust fell from the ceiling. Harry closed his door and dragged the fudge faster, right under the crack between the door and carpet. Dudley still followed, but this time right into the door. Harry hadn't thought a 300 pound it, walking at less than a mile per hour, could break his door. He was wrong.

Splinters were everywhere. No place was safe from the splintered, blind, whale! RUN, IDIOT! RUN! Harry's mind told him to run, but his stupidity kept him planted to the ground.

Dudley decide to swing his arms, now. Had Harry listened to his mind, he probably wouldn't have turned into a flat pancake. (Dudley hit him and ran over him.)

So much for revenge, thought the Harry pancake. Hey, now that I'm a pancake, maybe I can talk to Ron.

This was more than a concussion.

Chapter Thirty, It's after twelve

Harry started having thoughts of animals. And these were no ordinary animals. No, these were suicidal bunnies, demented mutant squirrels, evil attack penguins, and turtle snipers.

One of Harry's thoughts was: A suicidal bunny is about to jump into a volcano when a turtle shoots him in the fluffy tail. The impact causes the bunny to fall into the volcano. Out of nowhere a squirrel comes and takes the bunny. The squirrel sets the bunny on solid ground and kills it with a spear. Suddenly, evil attack penguins come and take the squirrel away. Two minutes later it becomes a pet to the evil attack penguin emperor. It's old pet, a suicidal bunny, kills itself.

Harry thought about what animal he would be. After a little bit of thinking, he decided to be a penguin servant to the emperor. He wondered, If I was a penguin, could I contact Ron with my mind. Maybe we both need to be penguins. Maybe its not possible. Harry paused.. It had to be possible. If it wasn't he was going to kill himself. It had to, it had to, it had to!

Harry saw a box in the corner of the room and completely forgot about anything else. It's a... BOX! YEEEAAAHHHHHH!

Harry jumped into the box and started playing with it. First he pretended it was an airplane. I hope I can land this thing on water because I sure as heck don't know how to fly it.

Then, he thought it was a race car... going straight into a wall. Oh, crap, was Harry's only thought on that.

After the race car thing, he ran out ideas and used it as a place to put Dudley's personal stuff, like his diary he actually wrote in (his parents think Dudley lost it) and the empty pack of cigarettes Harry's using as blackmail against Dudley.

Harry was bored again and started writing his weekend book.

Ten minutes later, Harry decided to impersonate Yoda. He painted his face green and tied a green blanket around his neck. He shot out the open bedroom door and screamed, "May the force be with you!" He ran around the entire neighborhood in ten minutes yelling that, nonstop.

Finally, much to the relief of the neighbors, Harry got bored again and decided to go home.

Chapter Two...I guess

The next morning, Harry had thoughts of death. I wonder what suicidal people think about right before they jump. I'm prepared to die. All I have to do is make up my will.

Harry wrote for about two seconds:

I leave everything to nobody. Whoever wants it can fight over it, just leave my money for Hermione and Ron to fight over. If you don't get what you want, well, that's too bad 'cause I never promised you anything anyway.

Sincerely and most happily to die,

Harry Potter

Harry left the will on his bed and picked up his wand. Harry saw none of his stupid life flashing before his eyes. He knew it was stupid because of the amount of times he had seen the slide show during his wonderful meetings with Voldemort. He pointed the stick at himself and said, "Avada Kedavra!" The wand made a farting noise and did nothing else, but reek like rotten eggs for the next five minutes. Stupid scar! You saved me again. I hate being called 'the boy who lived.' Why don't they call me 'the boy who just won't die'? He preferred the second choice. He could see it now, HARRY POTTER: THE BOY WHO JUST WON'T DIE!-in flashing red Broadway lights- next to Fred and George's U-NO-POO sign, of course.

Chapter... I can't count above, umm

Harry met with his friends the next day and showed them his book of the weekend. Ron and Hermione were flabbergasted at the thought of Harry, their best friend being possessed by a Gollum like thing. However, after they saw the will, they both said, "Thanks for the money." Hermione gave Ron an evil look. "That money is mine."

"I could beat you up with my pinky."

"That's impossible."

"Wanna see?"

"Try me!"

"You're on."

Two minutes later, Ron and Hermione were fighting at Harry's feet. Every now and then, Harry would give them a kick to make the fight more enjoyable on his behalf.

After five minutes of fighting, neither Ron nor Hermione were moving. Harry got his wand out and poked them. They didn't move. Harry leaned over them. They weren't breathing. Finally, Harry got bored of seeing if Ron and Hermione were still alive and left them there.

Aw, well. It wasn't my fault.

(The moral of this story is don't walk backwards.)

I would like to thank Bailey because I have Bailey to thank.

She told me to add more.

Oh and well, no thanks for pointing out that I had to write my name in the By:-spot.

I'll redo it then

By: Michelle