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[personal profile] last01standing
Title- Harry and the Life Eaters
Author- [ profile] spastic_visions and [ profile] pyro_wizzard
Rating- pg-13 (violence, death and potty languege)
Summary- Post HBP. Not DH compatable. Featuring, zombies, horcruxes, death eaters, life eaters, the first annual interhouse exchange program, and of course, Harry Potter: High School Dropout. A HP parody of slightly less than epic proportions
Ships- [ profile] pyro_wizzard ships H/R. [ profile] spastic_visions despises nearly all HP ships so by default, she tried to include them all.
Disclaimer- Neither of us are JKR.
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A message from [ profile] spastic_visions- Hey folks. I’m here right now to warn you, this story is not to be taken seriously. It is actually best to be taken with healthy amounts of sugar and possible drunk goggles from driver’s ed class. This is 17,000 words of pure silliness that we wrote over the last two years. The advantage for you is that we're posting it on livejournal all at once. All the amusing author's notes are being preserved. The ones we didn't like or reference how it's been four months since the last chapter have been purged.

Any characterization or plot errors are all [ profile] pyro_wizzard's fault since I wrote the first chapter. (I win!)

Chapter the first

The day Harry Potter turned seventeen was the day he officially became a high school dropout. He’d gotten the usual school letter with the usual plain brown owl and he sent it back with a short note:

Busy destroying Voldemort
Can’t make class.
Harry Potter

On September first, the train for Hogwarts left without him.

And exactly three hours, forty two minutes and seventeen seconds later, the truant officer tracked him down.

One hour, twenty-seven minutes and twenty-two seconds after that, he was sulking at the Gryffindor house table as Herbert Zorgith was sorted into Hufflepuff.

“It was a good try, Harry,” Hermione said, patting him on the arm in a spectacular display of subtext, “but maybe its best that we finish school. You know, dropouts are far more likely to get addicted to crack and become pregnant by the time they’re twenty.”

“Besides,” Ron added, “my folks went mad when I said I would rather save the world than finish school. And then Ginny said she wanted to go with me and mom almost…” Ron laughed nervously, “Let’s just say you’re not mum’s favorite person right now.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Harry said sincerely and then spontaneously decided that he had been lacking in teenage angst and he moaned, “but it’s for the best. Everyone I see as a parent dies horribly and painfully.”

“If you see my mum as a parent,” Ron said slowly, “Then why are you dating my sister?”

“We broke up!” Harry protested even as his heart swelled with desire for his beautiful, sisterly love.

“It’s still incestuous,” asserted Hermione, “I mean if you’re taking it literally at least.”

Their discussion was cut short by someone clearing their throat at the head table.

“Wonder who the new headmaster’ll be,” Seamus speculated from Ron’s left as he looked curiously into the shadows of the high table.

The new headmaster who had previously been sitting in a particularly dark spot of a shroud of shadows stood up.

Several students gasped.

“That’s just sick,” said Ron, mouth agape.

“He looks just like Dumbledore,” one of the third years said in wonder.

In fact, he looked very much like Dumbledore when you got past the fact that he seemed quite a bit greener. His normally immaculate white beards was faintly brown and caked with dirt. When he opened his mouth to speak, Harry could see a bit of skin flapping on his cheek.

“He’s dead,” said Harry melodramatically, “Snape killed him.”

“Obviously not,” Hermione sniffed, “as he’s standing right there.”

“Then he’s a zombie,” Harry asserted.

“Inferi,” Hermione corrected absently.

“No, a zombie,” Harry clenched his fists. How dare someone resurrect his mentor! Dead is dead! And they had left his shiny white beard in such disarray! It was evil! Criminal! Voldemort had crossed a lin… a flash of red hair caught his eye and as he caught sight of Ginny, all coherent thought left his brain… pretty Ginny…

“Welcome to Hogwarts!” possiblezombie!Dumbledore said haltingly, “I am your headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. Before our welcome feast, I would like to make a few announcements.”

Ron leaned forward excitedly. “He doesn’t talk like a zombie!”

“I am pleased to announce,” droned possiblezombie!Dumbledore, “our first annual interhouse exchange program wherein our students will have a chance to learn about the unique culture of another house…”

“Ron,” Harry hissed, “look at him. He’s green.”

“He doesn’t look that much worse than last year,” Ron protested, “his shriveled hand is still pretty sick, but…”

“As always, the Forbidden Forest is off limits to all students,” possiblezombie!Dumbledore’s left ear fell off.

“Alright,” Ron paled. “You’ve might have a point.”

“And finally,” zombie!Dumbledore continued as if he still had all of his body parts, “ I would like to announce that Professor Sirius Black is joining our staff for the year as the defense against the dark arts teacher.”

Harry’s head snapped up as a murmur began to sweep through the hall.

“Professor Black,” zombie!Dumbledore continued in a monotone, “is recovering from his fifteen month brush with death.”

“Fifteen months,” Hermione repeated incredulously, “that’s no brush.”

Sirius stood up to wave at the assembled group, but his motions were slow and halting. He tried to smile, but it turned out as a grimace against green tinged skin.

Ron blanched, as a realization hit him. “Harry,” he stammered, “you don’t think that Sirius is a…”

“No,” Harry cut in sharply.

“But he looks just like…”

“I don’t care.”

“But he’s a…!”

“Shut up Ron,” Harry said tersely, placing himself quite comfortably in that happy, happy state of denial. When Ron looked crestfallen, Harry tried to cheer him up. “Look at the bright side. It looks like you were right about Dumbledore.”

“Yeah,” said Ron slowly, “I was wasn’t I?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Your ego needs an appalling amount of stroking.”

Ron raised a suggestive eyebrow at Hermione. “Want to help me stroke?”

Harry turned away as his friends attempted to suck each other’s tongues out . It was really a shame that he had broken up with Ginny, even though it was awfully noble of him…

Zombie!Dumbledore cleared his throat as the hubbub bubbled down. “I also regret to inform you that professor Slughorn has fled the country after an unfortunate incident involving a cricket, scrambled eggs and a kazoo. Professor Snape will be returning to his post as potions master.”

An odd sort of silence swept over the great hall. Someone laughed, but was elbowed quickly in the side.

Some fourth year Hufflepuff asked, “Is he kidding?”

He wasn’t.

Dumbledore had always been one of those odd folks who while he enjoyed a good joke, didn’t tell them themselves. Zombie!Dumbledore was the same way, just a little slower.

The headmaster had a hand to his face, trying to keep a large chuck of his nose from falling off (this probably had something to do with the lie he was about to tell, but that could not be proven). “Professor Snape suffered a grave trauma last year,” zombie!Dumbledore lied as a chuck of his nose fell to the table, “he was body jacked by Voldemort and forced to do works of unspeakable evil. Including Muggleacide, petty thievery, and Dumbledoreacide. The latter of which he did not succeed in.” He smiled a grotesque smile. “Still he has returned to the position of potions master rather than defense teacher as a punishment for his attempted murder…” he paused, “and with that said, I encourage you to sit back and enjoy our welcome feast. Trof! Blibbit! Snork!”

Harry blinked. “Snape’s evil,” he said aloud, “he has to be.”

Hermione casually grabbed a roll from the abundant feast that had been created through hours of unpaid house elf labor. Free the house elves! SPEW! S.P.E.W!

“Harry,” said Hermione plaintively, “why does Snape have to be evil?”

Harry crossed his arms and sunk back in his seat. “Because I don’t like him.”

Ron grinned, mouthful of food. “Good reason.”

Harry on the other hand, didn’t think it was funny. He glared at his two friends before looking at the teacher’s table.

Snape was glaring at him. That evil death glare that was reserved for Harry and Harry alone. Somehow, the amount of loathing in that death glare had increased and therefore the death glare had increase in power.

In fact, it had graduated from a metaphorical death glare to a literal death glare.

And as Snape glared, Harry panicked, clutched his throat, tried to scream and collapsed, dead, into his bowl of soup.


A message from [ profile] pyro_wizzard
Paige! What’s wrong with you? Harry’s not supposed to die until… uh I mean oops? But seriously, I know you hate Harry, but this means I have to bring him back from the dead and that’s just plain unrealistic. Oh well... I hope you all enjoyed that installment! I know I did, so keep reading to find out what happens next, believe me, you will probably enjoy it much more than this chapter because ITL is a stupid head. =P. Until next time, don’t plagiarize and look both ways before you cross the street!


Hey, hey! My chapter here! Shout out to JKR for actually thinking this up.
-[ profile] pyro_wizzard

Chapter the Second

Harry woke to find himself sprawled out on the floor, staring up into the two anxious faces of Ron and Hermione.

“Hey, Harry,” Ron piped up. “You died, mate!”

Harry blinked, so he had.

“Brilliant observation, Ron.” Hermione rolled her eyes as the sarcasm flew over Ron’s head like a pretty birdie. Harry slowly pushed himself off the cold, stone floor and sank down on the bench next to Ron. The noise of the grand hall buzzed around them. The school had gotten so used to Harry’s occasional fainting spells and various premonitions that no one had even bothered to look up when he had fallen off the bench.

Harry rubbed the back of his head where it had hit the floor and surveyed the banquet spread out down the table in front of him. He turned to look at Ron and Hermione. “Wait a minute, if I died, then how am I still, well, alive?”

Hermione shrugged dismissively. “I had a spell from Hogwarts: a History. It’s specifically designed for death by lethal glares. Honestly you two, when are you going to read that book?”

Ron butted in, “When you stop nagging us about it. Pass the chicken, will you?” Hermione sighed and dutifully handed it over.

“Hermione,” Harry asked, “since when has that book taught dark magic?”

“Only since the fourth edition.”

Harry shook his head and turned to find where the potatoes had gotten to and found himself face to face with a furious Draco Malfoy who was… sitting at the Gryffindor table.

“You!” Harry spat as Ron glanced over his shoulder. “What are you doing here, you prat! Shove off!”

Draco scowled. “Believe me, Potter, this is the last place I want to be. When my father hears about this…” He viciously stabbed a kidney bean with his fork. It went squish.

“Yeah, but what are you doing at our table,” Ron growled.

Hermione cleared her throat. “Well, if you had listened to Dumbledore’s speech.” She

“You mean, Zombie!Dumbledore,” interrupted Ron.

“Inferi,” Hermione corrected absently before continuing, “The point is, if you had been listening to his speech instead of dying.” She glared pointedly at Harry. “You would have heard all about the Interhouse Exchange Program. A new ingenious way to learn about the cultures and customs of other houses.” Draco scowled, sinking down farther into his seat.

“Well then,” Ron started, “if we’re stuck with this twat, then who’d we lose?”

Harry looked around. “Where’s Neville?”

They all turned one by one to the Slytherin table where their eyes were immediately drawn to a gap surrounding one of the Slytherins. It was Neville. He’d sank down so far in his seat that only his face could be seen, hunkered down over his empty plate. The area surrounding him was dead silent as the Slytherins glared at him with unfriendly eyes. Neville gulped.


The rest of the Great Feast passed without incident (unless you count the part where Draco’s hair caught fire as an incident) and soon, the full, sleep students began to make their way to their respective dormitories; the Gryffindors followed by a grumbling, miserable Malfoy. As they walked, Harry, Hermione and Ron pulled together in a small group and began to whisper amongst themselves.

“So Harry,” Hermione began, “now that you’re back in school, what are you going to do about V-Vol-Volde-Voldemort?”

Harry shrugged. “Well I reckon I can’t let school get in the way of saving the wizarding world. I need to destroy Voldemort and that means leaving school if I have to. Besides what with Dumbledore being a zombie and all, it’d probably be really easy.”

“But what about your classes? And our tests?” Hermione squawked. “ I hear we might be having midterms this year!”

“Oh Hermione,” Ron interjected. “Some things are more important. Especially when they’re during potions. I’m with you, Harry.”

“Thanks Ron.” In Harry’s head, he mentally crossed out the find-comic-relief box on his to do list.

The Gryffindors all finally found themselves at the portrait of the fat lady when they realized that none of them knew the password. Hermione pulled a note out of the pocket of her robes. She cleared her throat, and in a clear, loud voice, she called out, “Swordfish!”

“Welcome back, dears.” The Fat Lady swung ponderously on her frame and the group of Gryffindors began climbing into the common room. As Harry entered the familiar, cozy room, he noticed a suspicious lack of a person behind him. He turned to see Draco standing resolutely outside the common room with a look of disgust on his face.

“That’s it,” he began, “I refuse to spend one night in this filthy house with mudbloods and idiots.”

“Fine then,” Harry retorted, “we don’t want you, you can sleep outside.”

Draco looked up and down the empty hallway and with an audible sigh, he stepped over the threshold.

“Finally,” grumbled the Fat Lady, swinging shut, “I though you were going to take all night!”

Hermione snorted at Malfoy’s obvious discomfort and after giving Ron a quick kiss, made her way to the 7th year girl’s dormitory.

Ron sighed wistfully as he watched her go. “Shame there’s all those protection spells around the dorms.” Harry glanced at Ron. “What? I’m just saying, now that we’re steady, well, you know….”

Harry nodded. “Right. Just like I did with your sister.”

“Oy! That’s not funny, Harry.” Ron’s face was the color of the carpet on the stairs. Joking and laughing, they climbed the stairs to their new dormitory and after a quick hello to their classmates, they pulled on their pajamas and went to bed.


Dear [ profile] pyro_wizzard,
Come on, we all know when someone falls forward onto soup, they don’t wake up on their back.
-[ profile] spastic_visions



Dear Readers,
I write Hagird speak like he’s drunk when he’s really just got a horrible accent with too many apostrophies. And I’m sorry.
-[ profile] spastic_visions

Chapter the Third

Harry hated school. He’d come to the decision immediately following breakfast that morning when the 7th years had received their class times. The 7th year class work was crazy hard. Not like 5th year hard, or God, even 6th year hard. This was nastily exhausting 7th year hard.

Harry looked at his schedule in horror. “This allows no time for Voldemort killing!”

“This allows no time for studying!” moaned Hermione.

“Quidditch!” moaned Ron.

Draco glowered at them. “I’m going to kill you all.”

“That’s a good one, mate.” Ron laughed and put a slashy arm on his shoulder (omg! THE SUBTEXT!)

Draco shoved the arm off, still in denial about his eternal love for Ron, disgusted “Great, now I have to go burn my robes.”

Hormone looked up from her schedule. “Good. Your house robes are still the Slytherin ones. Interhouse Exchange rules mandate that visiting students must wear the robes of the house in which they reside. In your case, Draco, that’s Gryffindor.”

Ron, mouthful of biscuit, said, “OK, I know Dumbledore didn’t go into that much detail.”

Hormone raised an eyebrow. “It’s in Hogwarts: a History.”

“It can’t be,” Harry said distantly as he plotted ways to escape Hogwarts so that he could defeat Voldemort, thus fulfilling his destiny and saving the world. Thus winning him lots of fan girls and, of course, Ginny. “‘Mione, this is the first annual Interhouse Exchange Program. It can’t possibly be in Hogwarts: a History. There’s not enough time.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Hogwarts: a History knows no bounds.”

“NEWTs potions first,” Ron observed inanely, “with Snape back, that promises to be educational.”

Draco scowled.

Harry shook his head. “You can tell me all about it.” He looked pointedly at his book bag that was bulging and filled to the brim.

“How many classes are you taking this year?” Ron breathed, “You look like you’re pulling a Hermione. You know, with the tim…”

Hermione elbowed him in the ribs. “Harry, you can’t be serious. You’re leaving school now? It’s day one! Do you have any idea how much you’ll miss?”

“What about Hermione and the classes?” Draco asked with faux innocence. “I love potential blackmail.”

“I have to leave,” Harry said firmly. “They can have me dragged me back to school, but they can’t keep me here!” With that, he stood up, slung his bag over his shoulder and marched out the main entrance.

Draco’s voice followed him out. “Since when is Potter allowed to have swords on school property? Someone expel him! Please!”


Harry had told his friends that they couldn’t keep him at Hogwarts and, if he had tried to exercise any quantity of stealth, he was probably correct. He had the Marauder’s Map in his pocket, and the invisibility cloak in his bag.

But he didn’t use either.

Harry Potter marched straight out the main doors of Hogwarts in plain view of both students and teachers after rather loudly announcing that he planned to skip out of school.

And this was the person who, until quite recently, had foiled Voldemort’s every plan. This was the person who supposedly carried the wizarding world’s hope of survival on his shoulders.

It was a miracle they’d survived this long.

Hagrid caught Harry before he even made it to the gates. “First, you go an’ drop me class, ‘Arry, an’ now yer going to leave school? You know what sort of trouble tha’ gets you?”

“I must destroy Voldemort,” Herry said tersely.

“Like hell,” grumbled Hagrid as he picked the struggling Harry clean off the ground and started moving towards the castle. “An’ don’t you go sayin’ that name. People like the Order an’ yer godfather an’ the headmaster will fight while you get yer schoolin’. You can destroy Voldemort when you graduate.”
Harry struggled, but his feet weren’t even close to ground level. “But I wanna banish the evil now!” he whined, “Haaagrid!”

“If you go an’ drop outta school, yer likely to end up pregnant and crack addled before yer 18.”

“But Voldemort!”

“You-know-oo will still be there when you’ve graduated.” Hagrid grumbled, tossing Harry over his shoulder and lumbering back into the castle. “Now you should get on ta yer class. Yer late as it is.”


“Mr. Potter,” sneered Snape as Harry ambled into class, a full twenty minutes late. “Twenty points from Gryffindor. My, we sure are not starting the year off well, are we?”

He sat at the table with Ron, Hermione and Malfoy. The former two were scowling deeply while the later beamed. “Draco’s already lost us 70 points,” Ron informed Harry.

“What?” Harry hissed back, “He’s a Slytherin!”

Hermione leaned forwards. “With the Interhouse Exchange Program, he is technically a full member of the Gryffindor house for the entirety of the year.”

“Five points from Gryffindor for you incessant chatter,” Snape said smoothly. “Now who can tell me what one would use the drought of the zombie for?”

Draco raised his hand high.

“Yes, Mr. Malfoy.”

“It makes turtles lay chicken eggs, sir.”

“What a perfectly nonsensical answer, Mr. Malfoy. I expect better from a student of your caliber,” Snape’s voice was serious, but his eyes were shining. “Ten points from Gryffindor.”

Draco sank back in his seat, grinning broadly.

“The Drought of the Zombie is used by a zombie master in order to instill absolute obedience in his army of the undead. The ingredients are on your table. The recipe is on page 479 of your books. You have an hour and a half. At the end of this time, I will be testing a random person’s potion on a random person. Everyone is to make their own potion.

Harry opened his textbook only to see one of the most complicated potions in existence. Muertaweed, corpsepind, eye of rotted newt… He groaned and wished he hadn’t burned Snape’s old potion book. It had made him feel better, but now he was wishing he would have sucked it up and kept the book. It was a free ticket to a high grade.

“What color do you reckon is ‘skin of rotten corpse’?” Ron asked helplessly.

“I reckon it’s a sort of shade of puke green,” Harry answered, confused. “I’ve never seen rotten corpse skin.”

One hour and thirty minutes later, Harry was staring at a hot pink potion. While he’d never seen rotten corpses, he figured the potion should have been greenish. Ron hadn’t faired much better than him. His potion was purple. It wasn’t pretty.

Only Hermione had a successful potion, the color of zombie!Dumbledore’s skin. Snape looked at it. “We will be testing Ms. Granger’s potion on Mr. Potter.” He filled Harry a goblet. “Now, if the potion was brewed incorrectly, it will acquire the poisonous properties of arsenic.”

Harry was grinning at his incredible stroke of luck as he accepted the goblet from the potion’s master and brought it to his lips for a drink.

“If she has performed it correctly, Mr. Potter will die an instantaneous, painless death.”

Harry choked on the potion, but he’d already swallowed almost all of it.

The last thing he heard was Hermione’s voice. “But shouldn’t this be given to an actual zom…”

And then, darkness.



Dear Readers,
I have killed Harry again. I am not sorry. [ profile] pyro_wizzard has this ridiculous plan to make me stop, she keeps resurrecting him and it’s annoying.
-[ profile] spastic_visions



Dear Readers,
Pyro's supposed to write a note for her chapter, but I guess she forgot. Don't angry with her.
-[ profile] spastic_visions

Chapter the Fourth

Harry slowly opened his eyes to find what seemed to be the entire potions class looking down on him. Snape growled angrily, “So it seems Mr. Potter has survived after all, class.” He whipped around to glare at the collective mass. “I want three feet on inferi and the most infamous inferi masters due next class.” With that, he stalked to the door.

Harry shakily climbed to his feet.

“But I don’t understand,” he muttered, “how did I survive this time?”

Ron grinned broadly. “That was me. I shoved a beozar down your throat. I always carry one with me now, you know, just in case.”

Harry nodded and began gathering his books together. “Come on, if we hurry, we can get to Defense Against the Dark Arts early.” He tossed his books into his bag and bolted out the door. Ron and Hermione raced into the dark dungeon hallways. Harry was already halfway up the stairs to the upper floors.

Hermione, who was taking the stairs two at a time called, “Harry! For goodness sakes, slow down!”

Harry paused at the top of the stairs and turned to look at them as though he’d forgotten they were even there. He waited impatiently for them to catch up and then took off speeding down the hall.

“Why do you want to get to class so early,” Ron panted, “It’s just Defense Against the Dark Arts and you’re practically a master already.

“Ron,” Hermione hissed. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Ron gave her a blank stare.

Hermione shot a glance at Harry before whispering, “You know… Sirius?”

“What, because he’s a zombie?”



The rest of the sprint to the 2nd floor classroom was spent in silence


A few minutes later, the trio entered the disappointingly empty classroom and quickly grabbed three desk at the very front. The rest of the class slowly trickled in, but there was no sign of Sirius.

Everyone was settled in their seats and, precisely on time, the door connecting the classroom to the professor’s office sprang open revealing… a neat well groomed Sirius Black who, despite his green-gray pallor actually looked much better than he had in life.

“Hello everyone!!!!” He beamed. “Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts!!!! I’m your new professor, Sirius Black!!!” He smiled happily, glad to have abused exclamation marks. “Now, I’ll be calling attendance, so please speak up if your name is called!!!”

As he ducked back into the office to collect the registry, Ron leaned over Harry’s desk and muttered. “What’s that all about, then? He’s acting funny.”

Harry glared at him, but before he could say a thing, a shadow passed over him and he looked up into the face of his godfather. Sirius was still smiling faintly, even as one of his ears fell off and hit Harry’s desk with a faint splat. Harry absentmindedly picked it up and handed it back to Sirius. Sirius’s face split into a wide grin. “It’s good to see you again, Harry, my lad. Perhaps you could stay after a bit for a nice chat?” Harry nodded numbly.

Ron and Hermione exchanged nervous glances, neither of them had ever heard Sirius use the phrase, “a nice chat” or call Harry, “My lad”. The lapse in characterization was deeply shocking.

Sirius, or more precisely zombie!Professor!Black swiftly went down the roll and upon reaching the end, he instructed his class to put away those dusty old books and take out their wands for some practical charms practice.

Zombie!Sirius took out his wand (which was splintered and had bits of mold growing on the end) and happily said, “Now students!! Today we are going to learn the levitation charm!”

Someone from the back of the room (it sounded suspiciously like Malfoy) shouted, “We know that one already!” The class grumbled its assent.

Sirius didn’t look put down at all. “Ah! You only think you know it!”

Malfoy shouted again, “No, you thick-headed zombie! We know it! It’s wingardium leviosa!”

Zombie!Sirius smiled for a change and gently answered. “First of all, Inferi and second, that form of levitation is all wrong.”

At this Ron burst out, “But it works! Even Neville’s been using it since first year!” The class began grumbling again. Sirius’s smile faded a little.

“Fine then. If that’s how you all feel, you can get those text books back out and read about levitation! If you don’t finish it, it’s homework.” He pouted. “I’m going to go over here and cry.”

The rest of the class was spent pouring through the textbook until, finally, it was time to leave. Hermione and Ron watched Harry pack up.

Hermione started, “Harry…” she shot a nervous glance towards Ron. “We don’t thing you should stay after class with Sirius.”

Harry looked at her sharply. “Why not?”

“Well,” Hermione replied, “didn’t he seem to be acting a little… oddly?”

“His ear fell off, mate,” Ron interjected.

“Look, why don’t you get it?!” Harry cried, “He’s not a zombie.”


“Shut up!” Harry snapped, “It’s just Sirius and he’s back and why can’t you two just accept that!” He gave them one last glare before stomping off into Sirius’s office. The lasting they heard before the door slammed shut was Harry saying, “Hello Sirius! What is the right way to cast a levitation charm?”


Dear Pyro,
In your first draft, you spelled three with three ‘E’s. That is all.
-[ profile] spastic_visions

--[ profile] pyro_wizzard

Dear Readers,
See how articulate she is? This is why our chapters come so slowly...
-[ profile] spastic_visions

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