Great Collaboration of Doom 6
Chapter Six: In Which Voldemort Calls Forth David Blaine
[From the commentary box, where the characters are watching the fic unfold.]
Voldemort: You know, this is all getting a bit ‘Biggus Dickus‘, isn’t it?
Harry, Ron, and Hermione: A bit what?
Voldemort: You know, Life of Brian?
Harry: I wouldn’t know. No telly here, remember. It’s a wonder we know anything about popular culture, really. Especially me. I spend all school year here and then all the holidays hidden in my bedroom. Or sitting picturesquely and moodily on a swing.
Voldemort: Do you play with your wand when you’re in your bedroom?
Harry: Well, a bit. But I can’t do any magic with it.
Voldemort: I could help you with that, boy…
Harry: [hastily] Oh, look! The fic’s moving on!
*****
Ron was eyeing a plate of pastries rather hungrily. He’d skipped breakfast, despite Hermione’s warning that it was the most important meal of the day. Ron usually chose not to listen to Hermione when she was worrying, though: it just made life easier. Hermione was prone to worry about just about anything – clean teeth, exams, global warming…
“Merlin, I’m hungry…” he said with a slight groan.
Dumbledore looked at him with a twinkle in his eye. He was still on the NHS waiting list to have the twinkle removed. “I agree with young Mr Weasley. I’m feeling rather peckish myself.”
“We’re supposed to be duelling or something!” Harry protested, pointing his wand at Voldemort.
“Thsteady on, old chap,” Voldemort thaid, er, said. “Duelling with a lithp just ithn’t cricket!”
It was proposed that they show a little sportsmanship and stop for tea. The house elves scurried out to help, eager to be of service. A few minutes later, though, Voldemort started to choke. “He’s turning blue,” Ron commented helpfully as the Dark Lord fell to the floor.
“Goes nicely with his red eyes,” said Harry.
They all stared at him.
“What?” he protested. “I just happen to have an eye for colours.”
Ron rolled his eyes. “And you wonder why we think you’re gay.”
“Hello? I’m going out with a girl? Your sister, in fact?”
“Only ’cause you can’t have Ron,” said Hermione smugly. “Anyway, Ginny’s just doing an experiment to seeif she can turn you.”
“I think it’s fairly proved that I’m straight!”
“No… you haven’t got to the S-E-X yet, have you?” Hermione buttered herself a scone.
“The what?” Harry’s lips moved as he tried to spell it out. “Oh… well… that’s just a matter of time. Surely. I mean…”
Hermione coughed delicately. “With Michael Corner she got him horizontal within two hours. Under the stands in the Quidditch field. While you were running a Quidditch practice.”
“What?” roared Ron. “I’m going to kill him!”
“Exthcuthe me,” put in Voldemort, “I’d jutht like to remind you that I’m choking here! Can’t you hear me thpluttering and thuffering?”
“Oh, boohoo,” said Harry. “I haven’t got the time to deal with your problems now.”
“And anyway, I haven’t found and destroyed all your Horcruxes yet, so you ain’t exactly gonna die are you? Stay there and choke to life. See if I care. You killed my mother, my father and your ‘closest’ Death Eater (closest, dearest, by her own admission) killed my godfather. Am I REALLY likely to save you? How convenient that your ‘closest’ one is female. You two are SO sleeping together. ARGH! Am I the only one (other than Ginny) who isn’t getting any? Look, just because I can colour co-ordinate and wear decent clothes, and describe people as a girl would in interviews DOES NOT MAKE ME GAY!! Now, I can kinda understand why you would think so but, for Merlin’s sake, leave it alone. Not only are you insulting both Ginny and myself but Hermione, what the hell makes you think I’d go for Ron? Just because you love him doesn’t mean the rest of us have to.”
At that point Voldemort let out a huge cough and a piece of pie hit Harry in the middle of his forehead. This ended his little rant. Harry jumped to his feet and raised his wand.
“That’s the final straw you kill my parents and god father and now you’ve ruined my beautiful skin, do you have any idea how much face cream costs?!” … “‘I’m not GAY Hermione!”
Hermione looked affronted. “I didn’t say anything!” she protested. Hermione sniffed indignantly. “Anyway, maybe you’re metrosexual.”
“Metro-what?” Ron asked through a mouthful of food. Apparently, even having the Dark Lord choking on the floor didn’t dull his appetite in the slightest.
“It’s like gay but straight,” Hermione tried to explain. She gave Ron A Look. “Don’t worry about it – I sincerely doubt that anyone would ever apply it to you.”
By this point, Voldemort had found his wand and risen up to his full height as he tried to look imposing. He was taller in heels, of course, but heels were just so darn impractical for duelling. Clearing his throat, he narrowed his snakelike eyes to glare at Harry. “Potter. I am ready.”
“Oh, come on,” said Harry, “I’m eating. That’s just rude.”
“Thod your eating…I’ve got a Dark Lord reputation to thuthtain!” Voldemort wiggled his wand. “Therpenthorthia!”
There was a flash of light, a bit of smoke, and then an earthworm dropped from the end of Voldemort’s wand. It wriggled a bit before dissolving into a sad little pile of ashes.
“Oh thit,” muttered Voldemort. “Thectumthempra!”
Another flash of light, another poof of smoke, and Harry wriggled and giggled.
“That tickled!” he said, pouting.
“Did he just giggle?” asked Dumbledore, who was feeling a bit ignored.
“Are you surprised?” replied Snape, who was feeling equally ignored.
“Oh thut up, you thilly thauthageth! Thilenthio!”
“Didn’t work,” said Dumbledore cheerfully. “If I were you, Tom, I’d cut my lotheth…sorry, losses, and run. You’re really not getting anywhere here.”
“Thtupefy!” Voldemort tried again, but to no effect. “Thod it! I’ll jutht have to releathe my thecret weapon! The motht powerful thortherer known to Muggleth!”
Hermione gasped. “No… not…”
“Yeth!” roared Voldemort. “DAVID BLAINE!”
Even the athembled… oops (got into it!)… assembled Death Eaters recoiled in fright.
“No, my Lord. You wouldn’t? Surely? That’s even worse than… than…” The Death Eater lowered his voice so that it was barely more than a whisper. “Than giving someone bogies! We never thought you’d be one to stoop, my Lord!”
“Remember: I don’t have friends or anyone close to me, so no-one knows everything about me, everything I plan.” Again ignoring the whole no-magic-between-the-outside-and-Hogwarts rule he raised his wand. “Accio David Blaine.”
Dumbledore shook his head in disbelief. “By Merlin’s beard, I always thought that he was just misguided. That maybe he didn’t have enough love or lemon sherbets in his childhood. But now I see that I was wrong. He truly is evil.”
Harry nodded, his eyes wide. “Someone help me. I don’t know what to do.”
A few moments later, the American stepped out of the fireplace to assorted gasps. The Death Eaters scurried away to a corner, hoping for some safety; Barney McGrew fainted when he spotted the crudely drawn eye on the magician’s palm.
Hermione darted forward. “Harry!” she whispered. “I’ve read all about him. Why don’t you…” Lowering her head, Hermione murmured instructions. Harry nodded resolutely raising his wand.
Wordlessly, he followed the sixteen-step wand pattern that Hermione had given him. David Blaine gave a strangled yelp as a solid block of ice started to form around him.
The ice crackled as it formed up around the git-wizard, significantly lowering the temperature of the kitchen by several degrees. A towering ice sculpture soon formed, entombing Blaine in his own self image.
“Oh, man,” muttered Harry, noticing how the ice was forming from the very moisture in the air, “this is going to dry out my skin totally.”
“Gay, gay, gay,” whispered Hermione.
“Gay, gay, gay” repeated Ron, always so happy to imitate like a monkey shown a trick.
“I hate to say it,” said Snape, glaring at the frozen magician, “but he looks bizarrely happy.”
“Are you kidding?” said Blaine, voice a little muffled. “This’ll be my greatest trick yet! I’ve done pole-standing, box-living and goldfish-bowl-floating. The public’ll love me!”
Hermione looked up from the book that she was reading, frowning. Harry couldn’t even bring himself to be surprised that Hermione happened to have a book about David Blaine on hand. “Um, actually,” she said, “You’ve done the ice thing already, too.” She held the book out so that he could try and read the print through the ice.
David let out a muffled scream of horror that he was repeating a stunt just as the ice enclosed him completely. Hermione closed the book with a satisfied snap.
Harry stared defiantly at the Dark Lord. “Do you give up yet?” he challenged.
Voldemort sneered as best he could with a cream cake stuck on his bald pate. “Do you really think I would give up that eathily?”
“Well, said Harry, “we were hoping. Y’see, we’ve managed to rig up a telly up in the Astronomy Tower and it’s nearly time for Doctor Who…”
Hermione sighed longingly. “And I bet he’ll put on his glasses again… so lovely…”
Ron made a whimpering noise not unlike a hurt dog. Hermione patted him on the head absently, still gazing into space and dreaming of the Doctor.
“Oh thit, ith it?” Voldemort cuffed a Death Eater round the head. “You were meant to remind me, imbethile! And I bet no one thet the video!” He rolled up his sleeves. “Right! Let’th get thith over with!”
“What’s he doing now?” asked Neville, who had either been standing there for a while or had just wandered in. No one was sure, as no one had been watching him. Poor Neville.
“Summoning some dread creature from the abyss,” said Dumbledore, absent-mindedly fiddling with his winding sheet. Some coffin splinters were caught in the edge. “Or making an omelette. But given the
circumstances, I’d say the former.”
“Why’s that?” asked Harry.
“Because the house elves make a much better omelette.”
“Pray thilenthe!” shrieked Voldemort. “And welcome my newetht weapon… Paul Danielth!”
“NO!” yelled Dumbledore. “You wouldn’t!”
Snape stared at the swirling mists, gasping as two figures became apparent.
“Merlin!” he cried. “He’s brought Debbie McGee! Oh, the horrors!”
“The lovely Debbie McGee,” Hermione corrected, looking absolutely terrified.
“Any idea what I can do?” Harry asked as the ageing magician started to shuffle a packet of cards.
Hermione shook her head, pale in the face. “Sorry, Harry. For once I don’t know.” Ron pulled a scared face when she said this.
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Collaborative Fanfic