The Wonderful Wizard Of—Wait, Where Are We?

Summary: Harry has a dream and takes the Order along with him. What will they do? Who will they encounter? And why is Harry wearing ruby-red trainers?

Genre: Humor / Parody

Rating: T

Character Parings: none so far

Timeframe: Summer before fifth year, AU (obviously)

Warnings: Intermittent swearing; non-graphic, non-violent, and non-described character death; drug references; and mentioning of a brothel. I don't know if that matters, but I'm going to warn you anyway.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and everything recognisable as belonging to the series is the property of J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. Likewise, I own nothing that is recognisable as belonging to The Wizard of Oz.

Further Warning: This fanfiction will be written solely for comic relief. It will not be beta'd. So if you don't like randomness, now would be a good time to run.

"We're going out," Uncle Vernon announced smugly over dinner.

"'We?'" said Harry, looking from him to Aunt Petunia.

"Us, not you," she snapped. "Uncle Vernon's company is throwing a party for a big customer, and we certainly don't want you there."

"Fine," said Harry, finishing off the last of his potatoes. Compared to some of the other outings he'd missed out on, it sounded boring.

After dinner he escaped upstairs to his room while Dudley was forced into a suit and had his hair fussed over by Aunt Petunia. His cousin gave him a sullen glare as he passed them in the hall.

Harry flipped through some comics of Murton Miggs, the Mad Muggle, that he'd borrowed from Ron, until he heard the car drive off down the street. Then he raided the refrigerator for a slice of chocolate cake left over from Dudley's birthday party and stretched out on his bed with his Hogwarts homework. After finishing off the cake and his Transfiguration homework, Harry fell asleep with his face stuck to the pages of his Potions textbook.

BANG!

Harry jerked upright, dislodging his Potions book onto the floor. It felt like the entire house had been shaking! He ran out into the hallway and stared at the downstairs in horror. The house appeared to be listing to one side, and the front door was hanging off its hinges.

What happened? He wondered, and then, whatever it was, I'm going to be in deep trouble when Uncle Vernon gets home. He hurried down the stairs and stepped out of the doorway, gawking so completely that he tripped and fell flat on his face.

"Urgh, where am I?" Harry stood up, rubbing his head. The world around him was definitely not Privet Drive, nor any part of Surrey. The sky was a brilliant powder blue, the grass was an impossible shade of bright green, and he was standing on a pavement of bright yellow cobbles. The trees surrounding them looked like overgrown candies from Honeydukes.

"You don't know?" said a voice sardonically. "Well then, we're really in trouble, aren't we?" Harry looked wildly around until he spotted the speaker, who was sitting on a nearby rock and watching him.

He was wearing black robes with a skull on the front, black fingerless gloves, a skull ring on one finger, and black-and-white striped knee-high socks. It suited him perfectly.

"Oh no, not you," Harry groaned.

"Yes, me," said Severus Snape. "Not by my own volition, but I am here. I hope you are pleased with yourself."

"What? Why?" said Harry, panicking. What could he have possibly done?

"Apparently, something happened when you went to bed tonight that forced me to appear in your dreams in this ridiculous outfit," said Snape. "Completely without consideration for other people, I might add. I dreamt I was assigning the entire Gryffindor house detention when you decided to intrude."

Light dawned on Harry. "Wait, I'm asleep? And you are too?"

Snape sighed. "Yes, Potter, that's what I said."

"So why are you in my dream? Why aren't I in yours?"

"This is conjecture, but I believe that you have become a beacon that calls other witches and wizards into your dreams when you fall asleep," said the Potions professor. "It probably has to do with that blasted scar of yours."

"Is that likely?"

"About as likely as my wearing knee-high striped socks," Snape snapped. They both glanced down at his legs. They both looked up again.

"I'm assuming that's a yes?" said Harry.

"I really hate you," said Snape. "I really do."

"Well, nothing new there," said Harry. Snape sighed. "True."

"So, where are we, exactly?"

"I have no idea. It is your dream we're in. Perhaps it is something from your subconscious? 'Hello world, I may be an arrogant little twit, but inside I'm all warm and fluffy'? Although possibly also on drugs?" sneered Snape.

"Hang on," Harry said slowly, ignoring this, "This place does seem familiar." He started off across the grass to a cluster of gigantic mushrooms growing near a pond. Grumbling, Snape followed.

A few feet away, they stopped and exchanged horrified stares, because the mushrooms had doors and windows in.

"Be very careful," Snape said. "We're obviously dealing with a deranged mind here."

"Right," said Harry.

"It may be your own, but still…"

"Harry Potter!" squealed a voice, and Harry was tackled around the knees. Harry waved his hands wildly to keep his balance while his attacker hugged his legs and squealed, "Harry Potter is a great wizard, yes he is, who helps house-elves in their time of need! We house-elves are honored to have a hero such as Harry Potter!"

"Dobby?" Harry gasped, pulling the elf off of his legs. "What are you doing here?"

"Thanking you, Harry Potter!" cried the elf, tears in his eyes. "If it were not for the arrival of Harry Potter, we house-elves would still be under the rule of the horrible wicked witch! But now we are saved and entirely free!"

Dobby hugged his legs again and sobbed into Harry's jeans while he and Snape looked at each other.

"What did you do?" Snape hissed at him.

"Nothing!" protested Harry. "I don't know what he's talking about! I just got here, remember?"

Snape scowled suspiciously at him and stalked back over to the house while Harry tried to pry Dobby off his legs again.

"Potter," Snape said flatly. "Come and look at this." Harry set Dobby down on a rock and hurried over.

Sticking out from under Number Four was a pair of pudgy, stocking-ed legs.

"Oh no," Harry gasped. "Is she--?"

"A house just fell on her, Potter, what do you think?"

"Who was she?" Harry asked desperately.

"I don't know. I didn't see her," Snape admitted. Harry felt something pull on his shirt sleeve and he looked down into Dobby's huge eyes.

"Does Harry Potter grieve for the wicked witch? Harry Potter is truly a forgiving wizard, kind and—"

"You mean I knew her?" Harry asked quickly. "Who was she, Dobby?"

"Why, Professor Umbridge, Harry Potter—"

"Oh," said Snape. "Of course, the wicked witch. That's all right, then."

"Was she nasty to house-elves?" Harry asked, staring at the legs.

"If you think she hated part humans, Mr. Potter, it was nothing compared to intelligent non-humans."

"So is she really dead?" Harry asked. "In the real world, I mean?"

"I doubt we're that lucky. It is, after all, just a dream."

"Damn," said Harry. They both stared at the legs in silence. Snape removed his hat from his head.

"The other house-elves and Dobby want to thank Harry Potter!" said Dobby happily, breaking into their moment of grief. Harry looked around and saw eyes peeking around doors in the mushroom village.

"Wait a second," said Harry, light dawning as the elves crept towards them, "I know why this is familiar—"

A moment later Dobby had grabbed him by the hand and was pulling him around as the house-elves danced and sung around them.

Harry was pulled into the center of the circle of elves, where one read a proclamation to him and the rest cheered. He couldn't really understand what was going on, but it seemed to be good, whatever it was.

Harry staggered away as the elves began to prepare a feast and stood, trying to get his breath back. Snape had leapt to the safety of a nearby rock and was watching them in shock.

"I guess they really hated Umbridge," Harry gasped.

"Apparently," said Snape, with a kind of awe.

BANG!

The house elves screamed and cowered as a cloud of smoke appeared on the cobblestones. It vaporized to reveal Voldemort, holding a broom in one hand and looking even angrier than usual.

"You killed her!" he shrieked, pointing a finger at Harry. "You killed my connection to the Ministry! Now how am I supposed to take over when she's squished flat like that?"

"It was an accident—" Harry began.

"Of course!" shouted the Dark Lord. "The shoes!" He hurried towards the house.

"Shoes?" said Harry, following him.

"Yes, the shoes! The magic shoes! The ones that make the wearer unhexible!" said Voldemort.

"They were a prototype made by Fred and George Weasley," Snape hissed in Harry's ear. "Umbridge had them confiscated by the Ministry."

"How do you know?" Harry muttered. Snape looked quizzical.

"I don't know. It's the dream filling in crucial plot information, I suppose."

"And I shall duplicate them and give them to all my Death Eaters!" cackled Voldemort. "And with them, I can—wait, where'd they go?" he shouted, staring at the legs. "There aren't any shoes here!"

"That's because they've been moved," said a deep voice behind them. They all spun around to see Dumbledore, smiling gently.

"What! Where to?" snapped Voldemort.

"Right here," said Dumbledore, pointing at Harry. Harry looked down at his feet and saw he was wearing glittering, ruby-red trainers, which had certainly not been on his feet before.

"Of course," Snape murmured next to him, "that's just like Umbridge. HHHow incredibly tasteless."

"Hah! Corpse robber! Who are you to stand in my way?"

Dumbledore stared at him. "Albus Dumbledore," he said, slowly and clearly, "your archenemy. Remember, Tom?"

"Oh I know that," Voldemort snapped. "I was being rhetorical."

"Right," said Dumbledore. "Anyway, you can't hex them off Harry and you can't harm Harry anymore, which I'm sure you would have gotten around to doing eventually, and Harry won't give them to you either. That settles it quite nicely, I think. 'Ta."

"Wait," Harry yelled, "What am I supposed to—"

Dumbledore vanished in a puff of smoke, smelling faintly of lemon drops. Harry was left with Snape, both of them staring at the seething Dark Lord.

"Oh, to hell with it!" Voldemort snarled. He snapped his fingers and vanished into another cloud of smoke.

Harry was now left with Snape. They stared at each other.

"Well, now what?" said Harry.

"I suppose we must find a way to defeat the Dark Lord," said Snape. "Even if we throw the shoes one way and run in the opposite direction, he'll be back to kill you eventually."

"Happy thought," Harry grumbled. "Can I die in a dream?"

"When the Dark Lord is in it? Who knows?"

"There's a great and powerful wizard that lives in a big castle," Dobby said helpfully from behind them. "All you have to do to find him is follow this yellow brick road."

Harry looked at Snape, who shrugged.

"You're coming with me?" said Harry, taken aback.

"Why not? I can see I'm not getting back to my own dreams anytime soon," said Snape irritably. "I was giving Neville Longbottom cleaning duty, too," he added wistfully.

Harry sighed. "Come on then." He headed off down the road.

"Oh great and wonderful Harry Potter!" shouted Dobby.

"What is it, Dobby?" Harry called back in exasperation.

"The great wizard's castle is the other way, Harry Potter!"

"What were you saying about this place seeming familiar?" Snape asked as they headed down the road—in the right direction, this time.

"I've seen it before," said Harry glumly. "Dudley was watching it on Muggle television last week, and I sat on the stairs and listened. It's The Wizard of Oz. Different, of course."

"I would assume so, if the entire wizarding world is going to be involved."

"Will it?" Harry asked, panicking.

"I don't know. I wouldn't be surprised. You have a talent for attracting trouble."

They walked in silence for a while.

"So explain it to me," said Snape. "What kind of insane plot did the Muggles come up with?"

"Well, Dorothy—she's the main character—hits her head during a storm and dreams that the house gets lifted up and falls into another world on top of the wicked witch of the East, which must be Umbridge. The wicked witch of the West—that's Voldemort—wants her magic shoes, but the Glinda the good witch of the North—that's Dumbledore—gives them to Dorothy before the wicked witch can get to them. Dorothy just wants to go home, so she sets off to find the Wizard of Oz, and meets a bunch of characters along the way. That's it, really."

"So you're saying it's a pipe dream," said Snape.

"Basically."

"And you must be Dorothy, because you have the shoes," Snape mused. "What about my character?"

"I don't know. I don't think there was one. Maybe you're the witch of the South," Harry suggested. "I don't remember her ever appearing."

"Just my luck," said Snape, glaring at Harry. "And did Dorothy ever leave this bizarre fantasy?"

"Oh yeah, she gets to the wizard and finds out the shoes really were what she needed…all along…"

They stopped and stared at each other. "Well, try it out, and maybe we can avoid all this rubbish," Snape demanded.

"Okay," said Harry. He stopped, closed his eyes, and thought of Hogwarts. "I wish I were home…I wish I was home…" He clicked his heels together. Nothing seemed to happen. He opened his eyes and saw that Snape was staring at him with a nauseated expression.

"And that worked in the film, did it?"

"Yeah," Harry sighed. "Just my luck."