MMMBop

You have so many relationships in this life,
But only one or two will last.
You go through all the pain and strife,
Then you turn your back and they're gone so fast.

Harry stared idly out the window of the common room. He was thinking about Sirius and his parents. He was pondering why all the people he loved were slowly fading out of his life. It seemed that all he had were Ron and Hermione these days. Focusing on the window, he saw it was absolutely gorgeous out and realized he was sitting inside working on his boring Calculus homework.

"Calculus? They don't even have that course here!" Harry shouted at the author.

"Oh…right, well there goes trying to get out of math homework," she muttered and replaced the dreaded math assignment with some Potions.

"Potions! Couldn't you have at least given me something I like?" he whined.

"Hey! My story, my assignment. Now shut it!" Sarah, the author, snapped and returned to her computer chair.

Harry shot angry looks at the author but grudgingly turned his attention to the assignment. As he looked at the text written on the page, a smile spread rapidly across his face. Soon he let out a chuckle, which turned into a snort.

"I didn't know Professor Snape had an infatuation with Hanson," he snickered.

"Mrs. Zachary Hanson…Mrs. Sarah Hanson," he read aloud.

"I also didn't know Professor Snape was female and that his real first name is Sarah," he added as he was consumed with gales of laughter.

Blushing, the author rushed in and snatched the paper from his hands, a scowl on her face. She rifled through a bunch of paper in a folder and finally found the right one, handing it to the bemused teen.

"Hey can I just go outside now?" he asked, beginning to stand up.

"No! It's not time yet," the still ashen-faced author replied, once again resuming her place in the comfortable office chair.

So, this time for real, Harry got down to his Potions assignment. As he was finishing the last sentence, Ron came tearing into the room, looking rather annoyed. Harry glanced up at his friend and immediately became perplexed.

"Ron are you ok?" he asked, setting his quill down.

"Harry! You missed Quidditch warm ups! Let's go!" the redhead shouted.

"I tried to leave but," Harry protested.

"No one is making you sit here Harry," Ron snapped, interrupting his friend mid-sentence.

"Actually, I am," the author interjected with a small wave of her hand.

"Who are you? You're not Jo," Ron stated, walking over to the writer.

"She's not due to arrive for a while yet…oh probably shouldn't have said that," the young writer replied, laughing at her joke.

"Oh, um alright," Ron muttered, shooting Harry a look that said 'what is going on?'

Harry just shrugged. He got up and headed towards his room to get his broom. It wasn't setting a very good example for the rest of the team if the captain missed practice. Harry returned to the common room and the two boys headed out to the Quidditch pitch to resume practice.

Oh so hold to the ones who really care,
In the end they'll be the only ones there.
When you get old and starting losing your hair,
Can you tell me who will still care?
Can you tell me who will still care?

That evening, Harry was strolling down a corridor with Ron and Hermione at his sides. They had just finished eating dinner and were on their way to hang out in the common room. Surprisingly, all homework had already been completed, much to Hermione's satisfaction. Quidditch practice had gone fairly well and Harry was pleased.

"Who are you kidding? I nearly got my head taken off by a beater bat!" Harry growled.

"Harry who are you talking to?" Hermione asked.

"The author of this story," the dark haired boy replied, pointing behind him at the author.

"Hi," she said innocently to the confused Gryffindor.

"Uh, hi," Hermione replied dumbly.

"Oh, don't mind me. I'm just tagging along to witness the upcoming spectacle," the author chirped pleasantly, a smile growing on her lips.

"Spectacle? What spectacle?" Hermione inquired.

"You'll see. In just a few---" the young writer began but was interrupted by a loud shout.

"Stop him! He's got the Pinot Grigio!" a voice called from just around the corner.

Just then, a short man with scraggly gray hair rounded the corner, staggering along with a large bottle in his left hand. He stopped short as he neared the foursome. The three Hogwarts students looked at him in confusion as the author gave him a nasty look.

"You're early!" she shouted angrily at the man.

"Sorry…but 'e came in sooner 'n I expect'd," the man slurred.

"Don't just stand there! Take it before he drinks it!" the voice shouted as the figure of none other than Professor Severus Snape came gliding towards the small knot of people.

The author looked from the Potions Professor, to the thief, to the bottle and back again. She rolled her eyes and motioned for the wine stealer to listen closely. He stumbled forward and began to toy with the cork in the top of the bottle.

"I told you to take the White Zinfandel, not the Pinot Grigio!" she snarled and looked at the fuming teacher.

"Sorry. He wasn't supposed to take this," she said and grabbed the bottle from the old man's grasp and thrust it at the younger man.

"Indeed. And I'm sure you three had something to do with this," Snape spat at the three onlookers.

"No. It was all me. You see, I'm a sucker for White Zin and I had a hankering for some and so I sent Lulabelle here to go get it for me," the author stated plainly.

"Why from my personal stash?" Snape questioned, cradling the large bottle of wine tenderly.

"Duh! You've got the good stuff," she replied with a laugh.

"Lulabelle? Why that's a girl's name," Harry snorted as he gazed at the old man.

"Don't be sassin' your Uncle boy," Lula said.

"Uncle? I only have one and you are clearly not him," Harry said, perplexed.

"Well you got two now. I'm your Uncle twice removed by marriage on your um…uh…" the graphite haired man muttered.

"Father's side," the author interjected.

"Right, right…on your father's side," he finished.

"Excuse me but Harry has not, does not and will never have an Uncle twice removed by marriage on his father's side," came a very British sounding voice.

"At least someone is on time," the story's creator mumbled to herself.

"I didn't think I did. Yeah, Jo's right. She knows everything," Harry stated, smiling approvingly at Miss Rowling.

"Thank you dear," she answered.

"Well you know what. It's my story so if I say he has an Uncle Lulabelle, then damn it he does!" Sarah shouted.

"Now Miss Rowling. You've made your editorial comment for the story; there is coffee being served somewhere in Scotland with your name on it. So why don't you go grab a cup and get back to work on 'Half-Blood Prince'," the young writer exclaimed while practically shoving the filthy rich novelist out of the story.

After Miss Rowling had gone off in search of coffee, the author turned back to the small, assembled group. She pushed a lock of blond hair behind her ear before she spoke.

"Well, you best be on your way. Don't want Professor Snape here giving you lot detention now do we?" she instructed.

"Well according to how the story's played out so far, he can't do anything unless you tell him to," Harry replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You are telling me some underage loony is going to tell me what to do? I think not!" Severus railed.

"One, I'm 17 and thus I can be served in pubs and two, call me loony again and you'll be seeing stars," Sarah snapped.

"I'm frightened, truly I am," he sneered back.

"Don't make me use that wine against you," the young writer spat back.

"What are you going to do, play spin the bottle with a pin-up poster?" the Potions Master snickered.

"No, I'd let Lu here have his share and then hit you with it," she countered through gritted teeth.

"But I like you too much so just, let them go on their way and I promise Lu won't be picking through your stash ok," she finished, extending her hand.

Severus took her hand and gave it a light shake, all the while muttering in annoyance to himself. Per his usual, the sallow-skinned man spun about on his heel and proceeded back the way he had come.

"He…he took the wine," Lula whined with an indignant huff.

"Oh get over it," the author snapped before shooing the three Gryffindors away.

Plant a seed, plant a flower,
Plant a rose, you can plant any one of those
Keep planting to find out which one grows.
It's a secret no one knows,
It's a secret no one knows.

The following day, Harry lay under the large tree by the lake contemplating how radically the prophecy had affected his life. It was like a seed had been planted eons ago by the stars, fating him to this disturbing destiny. The young wizard marveled at how Voldemort had simply chosen him, instead of Neville. It made no sense to Harry. But then again, the Dark Lord had only been operating on partial information. And soon, Harry would have to act upon this prophecy. This thought had plagued him for months, invading his dreams and daily thoughts. He looked up as he heard a noise to his right. His emerald gaze took in the young woman holding the reins on this unbelievable sleigh ride.

"Come to torture me some more?" he questioned tiredly.

"What I can't just come and talk to my characters?" she queried.

"I suppose so," he muttered.

"What's the purpose of that drunk guy?" the 16-year-old inquired suddenly.

"He has his higher purpose. You'll see soon. I promise," Sarah commented as her hazel gaze turned upwards.

"Oh damn!" she muttered, pushing herself off the plush green grass.

"What?" Harry questioned, following suit.

"Look up in the sky!" someone shouted.

"It's a bird," another proposed.

"It's a muggle contraption called an airplane," someone else suggested.

"No you morons it's the Dark Mark," Harry retorted with a shake of his head.

"The Dark Mark!" Harry squeaked, his voice unnaturally high.

Just then, dozens of figures in black cloaks came swarming from the woods, ala Lord of the Rings. Students fled for their lives, screaming like banshees. Harry stood transfixed as the one in the lead strode to within just a foot of him. Instinctively, the boy wizard reached for his wand, gripping it tightly.

"My Potter. It looks like everyone has deserted you," Voldemort sneered.

"Hey snake face, what am I? Thin air?" the author snarled.

"Who are you?" the Dark Lord inquired in a hiss.

"She's the author. And I wouldn't get her pissed off, she threatened to hit someone over the head with a wine bottle," Harry interjected.

"Oh really. How fascinating. Is that muggle tor--?" the snake like figure began.

"MMMBop, ba duba dop ba do bop, ba duba dop ba do bop, ba duba dop ba do oh yeah," Lula suddenly slurred stumbling into the scene.

The drunkard continued his inebriated song as he clumsily made his way to rest near Harry and his adversary.

"What is that man saying?" the red-eyed wizard spat.

"MMMBop, ba duba dop ba do bop, ba duba dop ba do bop, ba duba dop ba do," the gray-haired man concluded with a loud hiccup and fit of chuckles.

"Make him stop that!" the evil man snarled at the author.

"No, I don't think I will. I love that song!" the author cried in indignance, rushing to retrieve her lap top computer on which was stored the chorus to the catchy tune.

She returned and hit the 'play button' and a wide smile spread across her lips as the harmonies of three very talented boys came blasting through the speakers. She set the track to loop continuously. To her amusement, the Dark Lord suffered much the same way those who despise the song do. His hands were cupped over his ears, his eyes squeezed shut trying to block out the sound.

"Make…it…stop!" he bellowed.

Peter Pettigrew made a move towards the muggle machine but the author glared at him, as if daring to touch her precious link to the world. Instead, she increased the volume, her eyes delighting in the fact that the Dark Lord squirmed even more violently. Finally, several of the teachers and members of the Order had arrived, wands all focused on the Death Eater standing in awe as their leader succumbed to the power of music.

"I…can't take it anymore!" he screamed and pointed his wand at his own chest.

"You sure you don't want me to do that for you?" Harry questioned.

"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort cried, taking his own life.

"That's one for the forums," Sarah murmured.

"Will you please turn that annoyance off!" Severus bellowed.

"How about I just change the song," Sarah answered and put on "Penny and Me" instead.

"Hey, you wan some a this here wine?" Lula sniggered, sauntering as best as a drunk could saunter, over to Severus.

"I suppose," he muttered, summoning two glasses.

Most of the Death Eaters had done something most would not assume was in them. They cried. They cried because their revered and powerful Lord had taken his own life simply because he couldn't handle some childish verse. Many of them removed their hoods and masks and glared at the now cold body in disgust. The members of Light however couldn't stop laughing. Several times, Hermione had to help Professor McGonagall up off the ground from laughing too hard.

"Well I guess this turned out ok in the end," Harry shouted over the music.

"That it did. See I wouldn't let you kick the bucket," Sarah replied.

"Come on, let's enjoy the party! Today is the start of a new era!" she shouted as she rocked out to the soulful sounds of her favorite Tulsa rockers.