Let the Harry Potter Dinner Party begin! :D (If you were wondering, I brought multiple characters back from the dead to enjoy this fantastic dinner party. Behold my mighty powers).
(The guests enter the great hall. Dumbledore, McGonagall, Sprout, Flitwick, Snape, and Hagrid are already sitting at the staff table. Mrs. Weasley exits the kitchen and sits down at the Gryffindor table).
Hermione: Well, I'm glad that you decided to help the house elves cook the meal, Mrs. Weasley. If they can't be paid, I'm glad they didn't do all of the work by themselves.
Ron: Will you give it a rest, Hermione? They. Like. To. Work.
Hermione: Working is one thing, being a slave is another! If only more people were interested in S.P.E.W. . . .
Dumbledore: May I have your attention, please? I only have a few words for you: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!
McGonagall: Professor, you've already used those words.
Dumbledore: I have? Dear me, my memory must be failing me again. I should go to my pensieve and put that memory back in my head. Right after--
Dumbledore: Oh, sorry, Minerva. Tuck in!
(The food magically appears on the golden plates).
Dobby: Harry Potter, sir!
Harry: Dobby! I didn't know you were coming.
Dobby: Dobby just wanted to thank you, sir, for the socks you gave Dobby for his birthday, sir. You are most kind.
Malfoy: Did you seriously give a house elf a birthday present, Potter? First mudbloods, now house elves? You really should live with pigs. At least they're cleaner.
Dobby: You must not insult Harry Potter!
Peeves: Oooh, Peevesy smells trouble! Peeves should add to the fight, don't you think?
(Peeves drops a water balloon on Ron's head).
Ron: You little--
(Ron calls Peeves a rude name).
Mrs. Weasley: Ron!
(Ron's ears turn pink).
Fred: You know, that's a good color on you.
Ron: Shut up.
Sirius: Peeves was a lot tamer in our years.
Lupin: Yes, but that might've been because he was our partner in crime.
Sirius: Not your partner in crime, being a prefect and all.
Lupin: I'm surprised I didn't lose my badge after I helped you pull off all of those clever schemes.
Sirius: Like the time we managed to get Peeves to drop that bucket of dung bombs on old Snivellus's head?
Lupin: His hair never looked so good.
(Harry and Ron laugh).
Hermione: You two were really awful in your years.
Sirius: Nah. We were just stupid.
Moaning Myrtle: I notice you didn't mention the time you flushed me down the toilet.
Harry: Myrtle! What are you doing out of your bathroom?
Moaning Myrtle: Oh, so now I'm a prisoner as well as a ghost? I can leave my bathroom if I want to.
Harry (remembering his fourth year when Myrtle came into the prefect's bathroom): Yeah, I know.
Sirius: Ah, Myrtle, that was an accident! I didn't see you when that happened!
Moaning: That's me. Poor, pathetic, invisible Myrtle.
Peeves: You forgot friendless!
(Moaning Myrtle glides away, crying).
Luna: Ooh, Peeves, you were rather rude.
(Peeves sticks his tongue out at Luna).
Luna: Are we going to have any more D.A. meetings, Harry?
Harry: Er--I dunno.
Luna: Oh, I hope we do. None of my friends visit me anymore. It would be nice to see them again.
Ron: Er, Luna, nobody visits you anymore because no one knows where you live.
Luna: I don't live anywhere, really. I just sort of wander the country. I'm looking for a rare breed of nargles. Daddy's working on a nargle repellent to advertise in The Quibbler and we need some testers.
Hermione (with a considerable amount of sarcasm in her voice): I'm sure it'll be a big hit.
Luna: Yes, it should be. We've been getting tons of letters asking how to get rid of nargles. It's a rather difficult process, seeing as you have to get your hands on powdered unicorn horns, a feather of a gray owl, and the eye of a Crumple-Horned Snorkak, but Daddy's repellent should make it easier.
(Ron snorts into his pudding).
Luna: You can laugh, Ron, but when nargles start to infest your living room, Daddy won't give you a discount.
Neville: Have you actually seen a nargle?
Luna: Oh, no, they're invisible. You can hear them, though, if you listen hard enough.
(Dumbledore claps his hands together).
Dumbledore: It's getting late, and your rooms are all ready for you. I hope you will all join us for breakfast tomorrow. Good night!
Friday, April 19, 2013
Literary Dinner Party (What Might Have Happened)
I am an 18-year-old homeschooler, author, daydreamer, voracious reader, introvert, feminist, klutz, fangirl, and overuser of tape. I love the impossible (which might explain my obsessions with fantasy novels and Harry Potter) but I dip into the real world . . . occasionally. I tend to get overly emotional over my OTPs and eat sushi or listen to Taylor Swift to soothe the pain. If all else fails, reruns of “Doctor Who” or “Supernatural” is sure to help. I’m a big fan of mismatched socks, Cheez-Its, and bittersweet endings. I believe anything Rainbow Rowell, Felicia Day, or Lin-Manuel Miranda touches turns to gold. If you want to win the way to my heart, help me adopt a baby elephant. Or a llama. Or both. I write to survive and will often yell at my characters if they aren’t behaving, which is always. It doesn’t usually help. I am a contributor to the "Fauxpocalypse" anthology. You can follow me on Twitter at @Magic_Violinist.