Harry Potter and the Legacy of the Light: A Harry Potter/The Dark Is Rising Sequence Crossover
The CONDENSED EDITION -- Chapter Eighteen: When Weasleys Attack
Are Attacked
By: Gramarye
WORMTAIL: Cue the significantly creepier
dream sequence!
HARRY: In any other fic, me being tied to a
chair would be a sign that the next scene would involve Lucius
Malfoy, a latex glove, and a large squeaky dog-toy.
WORMTAIL: Will a row of severed heads do?
HARRY: You've no idea how much I want to add a
rat's head to that trophy wall right about now.
WORMTAIL/VOLDEMORT: Well, tough, because you're
going to wake up screaming instead.
MCGONAGALL: Harry, wake up, you're bleeding all
over the place.
HARRY: Well, THAT'S a great way to wake someone
up, Professor.
MCGONAGALL: While you're trying to stop that up,
say hello to Bill -- he'll be the harbinger of doom for this part
of the story.
HARRY: What now?
BILL: Er, it's like this...the author's killed
off Mum.
(GRAMARYE: I'm going to Hell
for this, aren't I.)
(READERS: YES.)
DUMBLEDORE: Since I've used the word 'barbaric'
in connection with the concept of 'wizarding funeral', chances
are the next scene's not going to be pleasant.
MCGONAGALL: Put up your hoods and follow me
through the creepy cemetary, children.
HARRY: You mean the Cedric Diggory Memorial Wall
wasn't creepy enough?
WEASLEYS: *enter with the body*
HARRY: Didn't they do this in Braveheart?
HERMIONE: Shush, you're interrupting the sad
bit.
OFFICIANT [translated]: I'm speaking in Latin,
so you know this is really traditional and important.
HARRY: Hey, what's Ron's dad doing with Ron's
mum's wand?
HERMIONE: ...something I don't think they did in
Braveheart, Harry.
HARRY: Gah!
GINNY: *passes out*
HARRY: I'll save you -- or wait, maybe I'll just
land facefirst in some mud here.
RON: Get the hell out of here, Potter.
HARRY: What did I do THIS TIME?
HERMIONE: Ruined Professor Dumbledore's robes,
for starters.
HARRY: At least you're still speaking to me.
HERMIONE: Not for long.
HARRY: What?
HERMIONE: You're completely insensitive and I'm
completely irrational right now, so get the hell out of here
before I start chucking the rest of my library at you.
WILL: *reads book omnisciently*
HARRY: Can I whinge at you for a little while?
WILL: I've a feeling you will whether I say yes
or not, so go ahead.
HARRY: The author killed off the closest thing
I've ever had to a mother, my best friends hate me, and it's not
even reached the part of the story where my life is REALLY
supposed to suck yet.
WILL: So what do you want me to do about it?
HARRY: Make it all better?
WILL: Old Ones don't do that sort of thing.
HARRY: Make it not so bad?
WILL: Old Ones don't do that sort of thing.
HARRY: Make it marginally less depressing in the
overall scheme of things?
WILL: Old Ones don't do that sort of thing.
HARRY: Then what DO Old Ones do?
WILL: This particular Old One seems to be
spending a considerable portion of his time and energy refraining
from smiting young wizards who persist in making inappropriate
requests.
HARRY: *blinks*
WILL: *raises eyebrow*
HARRY: ....um, right, so I'll just go and
apologise to Hermione now, shall I?
WILL: And I'll return to my reading and try not
to think about how much like Merriman Lyon I just sounded.
HARRY: Wait, who's --
WILL: *Meaningful Look*
HARRY: Going now, sir.