Harry Potter and the Plumbing of Doom

Author: Darth Maligna

Rating: PG for occasional language and innuendo

Disclaimer: No ownership, no profit, no legal action, please.

Summary: Voldemort shows Harry his enormous snake.

Before the movie even really begins, John Williams takes the score and starts beating the audience with it until they beg for mercy. We open through the clouds.

AUDIENCE: Did we accidentally wander into the Simpsons movie?

We zoom in from the upper atmosphere through the window to Harry’s bedroom. The fact that Harry has come out of the closet since the last movie gets no explanation whatsoever; no time for niggling little details like that. Much better to be confused. Harry is looking through his photo album and Hedwig is trying to escape her cage using a hairpin. Unfortunately, her lack of an opposable thumb is not helping matters.

HARRY: Hedwig, calm down or you’re going to get me in trouble.

UNCLE VERNON: Harry!

HARRY: Now you’ve done it.

HEDWIG: Sure. Blame the non-human one.

Harry runs downstairs. The Dursleys are in the living room.

VERNON: The Masons are going to be here in a minute, so what are you going to do when they arrive?

HARRY: Sit in my room and pretend I don’t exist.

AUDIENCE: Does this mean somebody else gets to take over the film?

Harry goes upstairs and enters his bedroom to find a CGI character jumping on his bed.

CGI CHARACTER: Mesa here to save Harry Potter! Yousa must not be going back to Hogwarts!

Try again.

CGI CHARACTER: Precccciouuusssss…

No.

CGI CHARACTER: Hello, I’m Dobby the House Elf.

Better.

HARRY: House elf? But you’re… you don’t… you aren’t quite as… attractive… as the last house elf I met.

DOBBY: The last house elf Harry Potter met must have been a Sindarin house elf.

HARRY: …Oh. Anyway, what are you doing jumping on my bed? You can sit down.

DOBBY: Dobby has heard of Harry Potter’s greatness, but never his low self-esteem! Asking Dobby to sit down, like an equal! Never has Dobby been asked to sit down by a wizard before.

HARRY: Well, you can’t have met many decent wizards.

DOBBY: No, I haven’t.

MALI: I would refute that, but I’d give away too much in doing so. So I’m just going to smack you around with this lamp.

Dobby is repeatedly smacked in the head by the evil director until Harry manages to shove her out the window.

DOBBY: Dobby is truly not worthy to lick the great Harry Potter’s boots! That is why I have come to warn you that you must not go back to school this year!

HARRY: Yeah, right.

DOBBY: Even though I’m not worthy to lick your boots, Dobby is afraid he must ruin your life.

Dobby runs down the stairs and into the kitchen where there’s this… thing… sitting on the counter. It’s like a really big pile of cake frosting with cherries on the outside. I really don’t see how one could stomach it, because if it’s what I think it is it’s just a huge glob of multicoloured glutinous sugar, but whatever. Anyhow, it doesn’t matter what it is, but whatever it is it’s fabulously squishy and so makes a very big mess when Dobby drops it on Mrs. Mason’s head and frames Harry for it.

HARRY: I don’t know why I followed the pudding-frosting-whatever stuff out here in the first place, because even if I caught it it’s obviously too soft to get a grip on and would have just splattered all over the place, but whatever.

VERNON: It’s my nephew; he’s very disturbed. He’s also grounded for life.

The next day, Vernon puts bars on the outside of Harry’s window.

VERNON: You’re never going back to that freaky school of yours, ever!

HARRY: If I let my hair grow out long enough, eventually Draco will be able to use it to climb up to my window and spirit me away! And knowing my literary hair-growing skills, that should take maybe a week.

Vernon goes and buys some big, rabid dogs to keep in the yard under Harry’s window.

HARRY: Curses.

Late that night, Harry awakes to find Ron and the twins outside his window in a flying Ford Anglia.

RON: Hello, Harry!

FRED AND GEORGE: We’d say something, but we’re not allowed to. Our part in this movie is sitting in the background during various scenes, looking adorable but never getting any good lines.

RON: Hey, look, there are bars on your window. Never fear, though; I happen to have this rope and hook on hand for your convenience, boss.

They pull the bars off. Harry grabs his trunk and Hedwig and jumps in the car. There are, apparently, not enough seats so he sits in Ron’s lap. Somewhere, Draco is furious both because Harry never sits in his lap and because he didn’t get the chance to climb up his hair. Somewhere else, various people are looking quite nervous because these are still only 12-year-old kids.

The next morning, or perhaps just later that same morning, they arrive back at the Burrow. Inside, Harry watches as Fred, George, and Ron’s hands on the clock move from “lost” to “home”. He vaguely wonders where everyone else is since their hands are not at home.

RON: It’s not much, but it’s home.

HARRY: It’s brilliant. Then again, anything’s brilliant compared to behind bars or in the closet.

RON, FRED, AND GEORGE: You were in those places, too?

HARRY: Erm.

Suddenly Molly Weasley appears from another room.

MOLLY: Where have you been?! No note! Car gone! You could have been spotted! Or hit by a low-flying plane! Or shot down by anti-aircraft artillery! Hello, Harry, would you like some breakfast?

Some time later, Harry, Fredngeorge, Ron, and Percy are all eating breakfast.

PERCY: It should be illegal to look this cute.

MALI: I’m starting to consider breaking up Fred and Oliver and giving Oliver Percy instead.

FRED: Noooo!

RON: (pouts) Why are all my brothers more adorable than I am?

GINNY: (runs in) Mum, have you seen my jumper?

RON: Oh yeah. At least there’s one child in this family that’s uglier and more annoying than I am.

Ginny notices Harry and gives the patented Rupert Grint Look of Nausea™, but it’s not really funny when she does it. She runs away. Just then, Arthur Weasley comes in.

ARTHUR: Hallo, everyone! What a night! Nine raids – nine!

HARRY: Raids?

RON: Dad’s a Viking with the ministry. They rape, pillage, and monitor the misuse of muggle artifacts.

ARTHUR: (looks at Harry) And who are you?

HARRY: David Bowie.

ARTHUR: Goodness, are you really?

HARRY: No, not really. I’m Harry Potter.

ARTHUR: Oh.

RON: Hey, look! It’s Errol with the post.

Errol smashes into the window. The theatre is immediately picketed by PETA activists who refuse to let anyone leave to get popcorn refills. Several members of the audience burst into tears. Percy goes to get the mail.

PERCY: Hey, it’s our Hogwarts letters. Yours is here, too, Harry.

MOLLY: There’s only one place we’re going to find all of this… Diagon Alley.

AUDIENCE: You say that like they don’t already know this. Or like you’re doing an advert for Diagon Alley.

MOLLY: Piss off.

The living room.

MOLLY: All right, Harry, Ron is going to show you how to use floo powder.

RON: Diagon Alley!

Ron throws the powder and is immediately engulfed in flames.

HARRY: Erm.

CHRISTIAN FUNDAMENTALISTS: We told you! Harry Potter is Satan! This proves it! (wave Bibles about)

AUDIENCE: Oh, joy.

Harry grabs a handful of floo powder before the fundamentalists can get their hands on him and in his panic garbles his words.

HARRY: Galkfnafkje Alley! (fwoom!)

MOLLY: …Arthur, what did he say?

ARTHUR: I think he was speaking Bulgarian.

Cut to a creepy, dirty old shop that is probably not Diagon Alley. It is worth noting that nobody is in sight, including any Malfoys.

HARRY: I’m in a strange, seedy-looking shop with a large supply and variety of shrunken heads and dead body parts. Let’s touch something!

We don’t have time for Nick’s Deathday Party, Valentine’s Day, or Professor Binns, but we do have time for Harry to act like a stupid little prat by grabbing hold of a dried-up, disembodied hand.

HARRY: Oh, no, I’m stuck! Wait, now I’m not. I’d better leave before I do anything even stupider than that.

Harry goes out into the street. It is inhabited by warty, hunchbacked people who are all wearing black and grinning at him evilly.

AUDIENCE: (sarcastically) We like the way both of the major antagonists at Hogwarts are veritable sex gods but rest of the collective scum of the wizarding world is, apparently, completely revolting.

It’s going to make even less sense by the time we introduce the next two major bad guys.

AUDIENCE: (drool with anticipation)

HAGRID: (appears out of nowhere) Harry, what are you doing down here?

HARRY: I got lost.

HAGRID: (leads him away) You stay away from Knockturn Alley, Harry. It’s nothing but a haven for the Dark Arts.

HARRY: Wait, so here we have another example of what would appear to be a breeding ground of evil existing not only known to the rest of the wizarding world but right alongside it. If they’re so damn awful, why doesn’t anyone do something about Slytherin and Knockturn Alley?

HAGRID: Kids shouldn’t ask questions. I’ve gotta be going now. (hurries off)

HERMIONE: (runs in) Harry, everyone’s been so worried about you but too busy to actually look for you or do anything about it! Oculus Reparo! (fixes Harry’s glasses)

HARRY: I thought we weren’t allowed to do magic outside of school.

HERMIONE: …I am. I’m special. Come on.

They go into Flourish and Blotts.

MOLLY: Oh, Harry, dear, we were so worried and we would have found you but Gilderoy Lockhart’s going to be signing books and all…

HARRY: That’s… quite all right.

Lockhart appears.

LOCKHART: I’m so great!

AUDIENCE: Was that line to establish his narcissism or the author’s opinion of exactly how funny Kenneth Branagh is in this film?

MALI: Um… both.

LOCKHART: (breaks into song) C’est moi! C’est moi!

A photographer rushes in before everyone decides that 1960’s Broadway musical references are too obscure for their tastes and leaves.

PHOTOGRAPHER: Excuse me; this is for the Daily Prophet!

LOCKHART: Why, it can’t be Harry Potter!

PHOTOGRAPHER: Harry Potter!

Harry is physically dragged up to the front of the store and has his photo snapped.

LOCKHART: When young Harry stepped into Flourish and Blotts this morning to purchase a copy of my autobiography, Magical Me, little did he know that he would be leaving with my a complete set of my works.

A man standing behind Lockhart hands him a stack of books and Lockhart hands them to Harry.

MAN BEHIND LOCKHART: It’s me, Mario!

Several people in the audience notice that in the stack of books is a boxed set with three volumes, assume that Lockhart is attempting to take credit for writing Lord of the Rings, and stomp out of the theatre indignantly.

SUBTITLES: And now… the punchline!

GRAHAM CHAPMAN: Lucky I didn’t tell them about the giant spider!
NEARLY HEADLESS NICK: (slams butcher knife into desktop) Ooh, it makes me mad…

Pan up to Draco, who’s sitting on a balcony staring down at all this.

ERIC IDLE: Hey, look, it’s big nose!

AUDIENCE: We will continue watching this movie on the sole condition that you stop bitchin’ about people who hate Slytherin, talking about literary-to-cinematic inconsistencies, sixties musicals, or bloody Python!

MALI: Doesn’t leave me much to go on, does it?

AUDIENCE: Oh, poor Mali’s muses! There can’t be much to write about with idiocy taking up so much inspiration already.

MALI: Somebody’s cranky. Sheesh.

As Harry starts to leave, Draco rips a page out of a book and shoves it in his pocket for no apparent reason before stopping him at the door.

DRACO: Famous Harry Potter. Can’t even go into a bookstore without making the front page.

GINNY: Leave him alone!

DRACO: (sneer fails) So… (lip quivers, eyes well up with tears) I see you’ve got yourself a… girlfriend…

HARRY: No, I—

DRACO: (sniffles) I didn’t expect this from you, Potter… Even I would never play that dirty, you jerk.

HARRY: But I—

LUCIUS: (materializes from shadow) Now, now, boys, play nice. (pushes Draco out of the way with his cane)

AUDIENCE: Bloody hell, so that’s where Draco gets it.

MALI: Yeah, no kidding. It’s a wonder Draco even exists; this man is far too hot to be straight. Gotta find somebody to slash him with.

LUCIUS: So, I meet the famous Harry Potter at last.

At this point, Lucius does this… this thing… which basically involves grabbing Harry’s left wrist and pulling him as close as possible in a PG movie while bending his upper body backwards. If he was doing this to somebody I could actually slash him with, I’d be having a coronary right about now.

LUCIUS: Kiss me, you fool!

That’s not what he says.

LUCIUS: Your scar… (touches, not strokes, it) is legendary. As is the wizard who gave it to you.

HARRY: Voldemort murdered my parents.

LUCIUS: I know; I was there. (hand flies to his mouth) I did not just say that.

DRACO: Dad, you’re embarrassing me in front of my future love interest.

LUCIUS: (smacks Draco for insubordination)

MALI: I told you Draco’s just a poor, misunderstood victim.

HALF OF AUDIENCE: Bloody Slytherin sympathizers.

LUCIUS: Now, let’s see… you must be… Miss Granger. Draco’s told me all about you. And your parents. Dentists, aren’t they? (slits eyes) I hate dentists. (turns to Ron) Red hair… vacant expressions… you must be the Weasleys.

FRED: Man, does he know us or what? (grins)

ARTHUR: Growl, snarl, I don’t like you.

LUCIUS: Shut up, you disgrace to the name of wizard.

ARTHUR: I know you are, but what am I?

LUCIUS: I am rubber and you are glue.

ARTHUR: Damn!

LUCIUS: Whoops, I seem to have dropped my mysterious tatty old book somewhere… where could that book have gone? (looks around his feet) Ah, well. I suppose I shall never see it again. It must have been sucked into an eddy in the space-time continuum.

GINNY: (looking at cauldron) What was that metallic clunking sound just a second ago? Ow!

LUCIUS: (hides cane behind back and whistles idly)

ARTHUR: Come on; we’re going.

LUCIUS: See you at work, Weasley.

As Draco walks by, he gives Ron a suggestive look.

DRACO: (walks away) I’ll teach Harry to sit in his lap; two can play at the pervy Weasley-fancying game!

HARRY: That bastard!

RON: (looks rather ill)

King’s Cross Station.

MOLLY: Ron, Harry, you wait until the very last. Then stand here for a few seconds staring at the wall like idiots despite the fact that we’re very late.

The rest of the Weasleys leave. Ron and Harry just stand there. Somebody hums the Jeopardy theme song.

BASS DRUM: Bum, BUM.

ALEX TREBEK: Time’s up.

HARRY: All right, let’s go.

Harry and Ron run at the barrier. Harry hits first. His cart flips over and he falls. Ron’s cart hits Harry’s cart and flies over it, with Ron flying over both carts and landing spectacularly in a heap on the ground.

AUDIENCE: Woohoo! Do it again!

SAME CONDUCTOR GUY AS IN THE LAST MOVIE: What do you two think you’re doing?

HARRY: Don’t you ever go home?

RON: Harry, what are we going to do? Somebody’s closed the barrier and the train’s just left!

HARRY: Maybe we should go wait by the car.

RON: Or maybe we should steal the car.

HARRY: That’s what I was driving at, but if anybody asks, you’re the one who actually said it.

Five minutes later…

HARRY: Ron, I think I should tell you that most muggles aren’t accustomed to seeing flying cars.

RON: Why didn’t you say something before we’d flown over half of London? (puts on the invisibility) My dad stole this out of a Klingon Bird of Prey.

NEEDA: Impossible! No car that size has a cloaking device!

AMERICAN AUDIENCES: Hah! This movie is funny because the steering wheel is on the wrong side of the car!

BRITISH AUDIENCES: Wankers.

After they’ve been flying for a while, the invisibility booster fails.

HARRY: Uh oh.

RON: Now that the muggles can see us, let’s fly lower.

HARRY: …What?

They fly down close to the tracks.

RON: Hmm, where is the train?

HARRY: I do not know. Wherever could that train have gone?

RON: I do not see it anywhere.

HARRY: It is not in the glove box or under my seat.

RON: Hark! What is that noise?

HARRY: It sounds like a train whistle. That must mean we are getting close!

RON: But I do not see it ahead of us. What could that mean?

AUDIENCE: Oh, god. The suspense is killing us.

Do I need to say it?

HARRY AND RON: We’re both slowly turning into Macaulay Culkin. Both in that we scream in an annoying and “comical” manner and that in five years we’ll probably be out of work.

Ron swerves off of the tracks. Harry’s door opens and Harry is dumped out of the car. This has been a message from your local Seat Belt Commission.

RON: Here, Harry! Grab my hand!

HARRY: I can’t; you’re too sweaty!

RON: That’s because you make me hot, baby!

HARRY: How many times do I have to tell you we’re only twelve!

RON: Sorry!

Fortunately, Harry is saved by a large and unexpected updraft of wind and they make it safely to Hogwarts. Sort of.

HARRY: Ron, watch out for that tree!

AUDIENCE: Ooh, disturbing mental image of Rupert Grint in a loincloth.

NEARLY HEADLESS NICK: (idly eats a banana)

Crash!

MALI: Why is it that I’ve got the perfect setup here and yet cannot think of a single reference to make to Jurassic Park?

RON: (looks ill) Harry, my wand! Look at my wand!

HARRY: Ron, I just told you this: we’re only twelve years o—

Crunch!

HARRY: I’ll ream you out later. Right now, let’s just freak.

They freak for a good thirty seconds before the Whomping Willow drops them and they manage to drive to safety.

HARRY: What were we thinking? Even if your parents don’t notice their missing car and the teachers don’t notice us missing from the sorting ceremony, surely somebody will notice the tire marks all over the courtyard?

RON: This was your idea!

HARRY: Yeah, but you said it.

Just then Harry and Ron are both violently hurled from the car, along with all their luggage. Harry catches Hedwig’s cage.

AUDIENCE: Don’t catch Scabbers! Don’t catch Scabbers!

Ron catches Scabbers.

AUDIENCE: Aww…

They lug their stuff up to the school. Harry accidentally puts his luggage with the Hufflepuffs’ and Ron accidentally puts his with the Ravenclaws’.

HARRY: Geez, with all of these House Elves and missed trains and trees and all, you’d think someone didn’t want me here.

AUDIENCE: Snape! Snape! Run into Snape!

FILCH: Oh, we are in trouble.

AUDIENCE: Oh, damn.

Snape’s office.

AUDIENCE: Oh, yes.

SNAPE: You were seen. By no less than seven muggles. Not only have you risked the exposure of our world, but you maimed, you pillaged, and you dialed 0 for numbers you could easily have looked up in the book!

RON: We never—!

SNAPE: Silence!

Snape climbs out of his chair and literally onto the desk. Ron and Harry back away cautiously.

SNAPE: (crawls towards them) Now, if you were in my house, I’d have to punish you…

RON: Professor, I do believe you are trying to seduce us.

SNAPE: (climbs off of the desk) Of course not, Weasley. Crawling over the desk saves me a trip around it. Don’t flatter yourself.

RON AND HARRY: …Oh.

DUMBLEDORE: (walks in) Severus, you’re not acting shifty around the students again, are you?

SNAPE: (slits eyes) If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times: potions class in the last film was entirely Draco Malfoy’s doing. I was acting uncomfortable, not touching myself. I can’t help it if my physicality is naturally sexual. Hmph. (stalks off into a corner and resumes looking menacing)

RON: Well, we’ll go get our bags.

McGONAGALL: What are you talking about?

HARRY: You’re going to expel us, aren’t you?

McGONAGALL: Not today. Maybe tomorrow. Right now we’re simply going to ignore all the laws you broke and give you a slap on the wrist.

SNAPE: I hate you all.

DUMBLEDORE: Severus, have you done something with your hair?

SNAPE: …

The next day in greenhouse three.

PROFESSOR SPROUT: Hello, class! Today we’re going to make a major reference to an obscure medieval legend that virtually no one has ever heard of at all, much less known about before reading the book or seeing the movie, thereby getting the joke right off. Therefore, most of you will think that JK Rowling is on drugs or simply crazy when in reality she and the author of this parody are apparently the only people on the planet interested in antiquated beliefs about mandrake roots.

The students stare at her, reactionless.

SPROUT: Those are the same blank looks you’re going to be wearing if anyone hints that there might be something more to the Dark Arts professor’s first name in the next movie.

A very slow, collective blink.

SPROUT: Never mind. Forget everything I just said. Anyway, today we’re going to be repotting mandrakes. The cry of the mandrake is fatal, but since these aren’t fully grown, they’ll only knock you out. Therefore, you have to put on your earmuffs to protect you. I’ll use this plot hole (holds up plot hole) to ensure that you will be able to hear me, but not the mandrakes. So put them on!

They do so.

SPROUT: Now, grasp your mandrake, pull it out, put it in an empty pot, and throw some dirt in on it.

DRACO: (raises hand) Professor, I know I’m not supposed to be in this class, but it occurs to me that we’re going to all this trouble and ending up with the plants in exactly the same position they are right now: in a pot, buried in dirt. Is there something wrong with the pots they’re already in?

SPROUT: It’s called busy work, Mr. Malfoy. This is a blow-off class anyway, so stop your whining. Oh, yeah, and mandrakes are used to bring people who have been petrified back. Just so you know.

The next day at lunch, Errol flies in and crashes into a bowl of crisps.

AMERICAN AUDIENCES: What the hell are crisps?

BRITISH AUDIENCES: Wankers.

SEAMUS: Hey, everybody! I’ve slightly improved as an actor since the last film! Oh, and Ron’s got a howler.

HOWLER: Ronald Weasley! In addition to your detention, you’re getting public chastisement from me! This is really terrible compared to what you probably should have gotten! Oh, yeah, and let me take this opportunity to point out that Ginny is at Hogwarts as well. She’s in Gryffindor. Yeah.

The howler bursts into flames and disintegrates.

Later in Dark Arts. The door flies open and in steps…

LOCKHART: Allow me to introduce you to your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher… c’est moi!

STUDENTS: We don’t have foreign language classes at Hogwarts.

MALI: And the scary part is that Dumbledore really is King Arthur!

GALAHAD: Hogwarts!

PATSY: It’s only a model.

LOCKHART: (ignores everyone) In this classroom, you may find yourself facing your greatest fears.

SNAPE: (materializes from shadow) Actually, that won’t happen ‘til next year. (disappears again)

LOCKHART: Umm… yes. Just know that no harm can befall you whilst I am here.

Lockhart released the pixies and runs his ass out of there.

STUDENTS: Panic! Panic!

The students start running around in circles in choreographed chaos. Two of the pixies grab Neville by the ears and hang him from the lighting fixture. Most of the other students run for it.

HERMIONE: Immobilus!

NEVILLE: Why can I still move?

HARRY: And how are we going to get the pixies actually down?

RON: And what’s the average air speed velocity of an unladen swallow?

NEVILLE: And why is it always me?

AUDIENCE: That’s a valid question, and we want it answered.

MALI: Not today, suckers!

The courtyard, the next day, or some later date. Who knows?

OLIVER WOOD: I’m too sexy for my broom, too sexy for my broom, too bad this is pretty much my only scene! And I’m not leaving the castle! Hah! No fangirls this time, no sir, not a single bloody—

A rumbling sound drawing ever-nearer.

OLIVER: (voice cracking with fear) How did they get in?

Little does poor Oliver know that when the castle’s defenses were designed, they foolishly did not take into account muggle plastic explosives.

OLIVER: (trembling) What are we going to do! (grabs Fred by the collar) WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO!

FRED: (abruptly hoists Oliver over one shoulder) We’re going back into the closet. Um, literally. (runs for it)

A few seconds later the fangirls run by in pursuit.

ANGELINA: Run, Fred! Run!

A pause.

GEORGE: (shakes head) They’re not going to make it.

ALL: Oh, god!

KATIE: That’s disgusting!

Just then…

MARCUS FLINT: (walks in) Seven Slytherins in quidditch gear. Can it possibly get any better than this?

ADRIAN PUCEY: (suddenly looks ill) What are those girls doing? Is that physically possible?

RANDOM SLYTHERIN CHASER: Isn’t somebody going to help them?

The Gryffindors stare at the fangirls for a second.

ANGELINA: No, we gotta… go… practice! Yes, practice!

MARCUS: We’re using the pitch. We’ve got a note from a teacher.

Angelina takes the note and opens it.

ANGELINA: I, Severus Snape, hereby give the Slytherin Quidditch team permission to use the pitch today due to their need to train their new seeker.

GEORGE: Why is it written in lavender ink?

ANGELINA: (elbows George) What new seeker?

Why, fancy that, it’s Draco.

HARRY: Hey, you’ve all got… holy crap, Nimbus 2001s! Why did I not see this until just now? Bloody hell, are we ever in trouble.

MARCUS: A gift from Draco’s father. He thought our old brooms weren’t quite sinister-looking enough.

GRYFFINDORS: Hmm.

Suddenly Hermione and Ron come up.

HERMIONE: Well, at least nobody on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in.

DRACO: I didn’t buy my way in. It was decided first on interview, and then there were the swimsuit, formalwear, and talent competitions.

RON: (sneers) And what was your talent? Using the grease from your hair to deep-fry chips?

AMERICAN AUDIENCES: Hah! By “chips” they mean “French fries!”

BRITISH AUDIENCES: Wankers.

AMERICAN AUDIENCES: And by “French fries” we mean “freedom fries!”

BRITISH AUDIENCES: Even bigger wankers.

DRACO: No. As a matter of fact, my secret talent is clog dancing.

Ron and Hermione realize that their big insult has just fallen flat on its face.

RON: Yeah? Well… well… you’re greasy! You… greasy… thing!

The Gryffindors all leave. Draco’s smirk falters and he sniffles pitiably.

DRACO: It’s a glandular problem.

Lockhart’s office.

LOCKHART: Harry, can you possibly think of a better way of spending detention than helping me answer my fanmail?

HARRY: Standing in close proximity to a running microwave oven until I develop a brain tumor?

LOCKHART: Haha, good one! Just remember, Harry: celebrity is as celebrity does.

HARRY: What does that mean, anyway?

LOCKHART: God, am I ever funnier than I was in the books.

Suddenly there is a low, hissing voice emanating from… somewhere.

VOICE: I smell blood… kill… KILL!

HARRY: (looks up) Professor… are you feeling all right?

LOCKHART: Huh?

HARRY: (gets up and backs away slowly) You know, I think I’d best be going now.

LOCKHART: And no wonder; we’ve been here nearly four hours! Bye!

Harry leaves the Dark Arts classroom.

HARRY: Geez, the professors sure are acting oddly this year.

Just then, the voice comes back.

VOICE: Blood… death… let me rip you… let me tear you… in the billiards room… with the candlestick…

HARRY: Hey, so it wasn’t Lockhart after all.

Harry follows the voice down the hallway, pressing his ear up against the wall to do so.

HARRY: I think I’m catching on to this wall thing far too quickly.

Hermione and Ron come around the corner.

HERMIONE: Hey, Harry, where’re you going?

HARRY: I’m following the mysterious sinister voice that only I can hear.

They follow him.

RON: Harry, are you sure that’s such a good idea?

HARRY: Well, what could possibly go—

They turn a corner.

HARRY: —wrong?

MESSAGE ON WALL: Chamber of Secrets: Grand Re-Opening! Lowest prices on death and destruction in the greater Hogsmeade area! Ask about our mudblood discounts!

HERMIONE: It’s written in ketchup.

RON: It looks like blood.

HERMIONE: Don’t be an idiot. Blood turns purplish-brown when it dries.

RON: (uneasy) Um, how do you know that?

HERMIONE: I know because the author knows.

HARRY: And how does the author know?

MALI: Because I actually have written in blood on a wall before. (grins)

RON: Harry, I’m scared.

Ron turns to run from the author but almost immediately runs into the Slytherins and Gryffindors who all show up at that moment. At the same time.

AUDIENCE: Why?

Because… umm… they’re coming back from dinner.

AUDIENCE: Then why aren’t the Slytherins going to the dungeons?

I don’t know!

AUDIENCE: And where are the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs?

Piss off!

DRACO: Hey, doesn’t blood turn brown when it dries?

RON: (looking really, truly frightened now) I’m surrounded by serial killers!

DRACO: I’m not! I cut myself shaving!

HARRY: You don’t shave; you’re only twelve!

DRACO: I was shaving my legs, Potter.

A long, awkward silence is averted when Filch runs in and starts spazzing out.

FILCH: Mrs. Norris! You’ve killed my cat!

HARRY: Curiosity did it! I swear!

Collective groan. Enter the Obligatory Horde of Teachers of Impeccable Timing.

DUMBLEDORE: What’s going on here? Who put the blood on the wall?

SNAPE: That’s not blood… it’s ketchup.

RON: Meep.

DUMBLEDORE: Okay, everybody go back to your dormitories. Except for you three chief protagonists.

RON: Why us?

DUMBLEDORE: Because this story is told from Harry’s point of view and he needs to happen to be around for everything.

FILCH: Those three killed my cat!

DUMBLEDORE: Now, Argus…

SNAPE: If I may say so, Headmaster… perhaps Potter and his friends were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Various confused fangirls in the audience consult the patented Villain-Love Handbook, trying to figure out if this inexplicable change of attitude makes Snape more sexy or less sexy.

SNAPE: However, I do not recall seeing Potter at dinner.

HARRY: Umm… yeah… I was… uh… polishing my broom! (grins)

SNAPE: (recoils) Ew.

McGONAGALL: Too much information, Potter.

The teachers leave in a hurry.

HARRY: What was that all about?

Ron and Hermione just roll their eyes.

HARRY: What? I thought it was a good excuse! All the Quidditch players have to polish their brooms. Y’know, to make sure they keep in working order. What’s so wrong about that?

HERMIONE: Harry, shut up. Just… stop talking.

The next day in transfiguration.

McGONAGALL: Today we’re going to be learning the necessary lifeskill of how to turn an animal into a water goblet.

HERMIONE: Umm, can we hear about the Chamber of Secrets instead?

McGONAGALL: I’d probably never really tell you all of this so readily and with so few assurances that this is simply a legend, but since this is a movie adaptation and we have no time to introduce Professor Binns, I’ll just do it. Let’s see… as you know, Hogwarts was founded centuries ago by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age: Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff, and Salazar Slytherin.

PICKY PEOPLE IN AUDIENCE: So how come the houses founded by women are the ones that are completely ignored?

REST OF AUDIENCE: Shut up.

McGONAGALL: Three of the founders coexisted quite peacefully. One did not. Salazar Slytherin wanted to be more selective about which students should be admitted to the school; he thought that magical learning should be kept within all-magic families. So he left the school. Legend has it that before he did so, however, he built a big, creepy chamber somewhere in the castle: the Chamber of Secrets. The other school founders noticed him carrying loads of bricks and cement into the school in wheelbarrows and often heard mysterious drilling and hammering sounds coming from the basement, but Slytherin claimed that he was simply remodeling the dungeons and the Chamber of Secrets was never found.

HERMIONE: Professor, what does legend say is in the Chamber?

McGONAGALL: A monster that, when Slytherin’s true heir returns to the school, will be released and purge Hogwarts of those that, in the eyes of Slytherin, are unfit to practice magic.

She looks around at the horrified expressions on the students’ faces.

McGONAGALL: But not to frighten you or anything.

After class.

RON: I know who the heir of Slytherin is.

HARRY: Huh?

RON: C’mon, think about it. Who do we know that’s evil, hates muggle-borns, and is from a long line of wizards that have been in Slytherin since anyone can remember?

HARRY: Look, if you’re talking about Draco…

RON: We’re only twelve, Harry, remember? Stop defending him.

HARRY: Grargh. All right.

And now, in honour of the Spanish-speaking people who sat in back of the director during her third showing of CoS… la biblioteca!

HERMIONE: Look what I found left out of the restricted section. (holds up Most Potente Potions)

HARRY: Who spells potent with an e?

HERMIONE: (ignores him and opens book) The Polyjuice potion is used to change one’s appearance to that of another person. You two can use this to turn into Crabbe and Goyle. Then Malfoy will tell you anything.

RON: How long will it take to prepare?

HERMIONE: (grimaces) A month.

HARRY: I have an easier way to extract information, and all it takes is—

HERMIONE: Not until at least fifth year.

Quidditch time!

HARRY: Don’t we ever get to play anyone besides Slytherin?

MALI: No. But hey, the lack of other houses just might save you from your Obligatory Hetero Love Interest.

HARRY: Hetero? What is the meaning of this strange new word?

MALI: Never mind. Let’s play some Quidditch.

They do so. For some odd reason, both seekers seem to be more interested in chasing the quaffle or just generally not paying attention to even bother looking for the snitch.

DRACO: No, it’s not that.

HARRY: We’ve joined SAGACOD.

What the hell is that?

HARRY: Seekers AGAinst COstume Designers.

DRACO: (holds up hands) Look at these leather… these leather… would you call these gloves? What the hell are these for, to protect us from splinters?

HARRY: It seems to us that all the gloves are doing is inhibiting our ability to move our hands and thus our ability to catch the snitch in an efficient manner, what with it’s being so fast and so small.

DRACO: So we’re boycotting our team positions until we get to take them off.

Fine. Take them off.

BOTH: Huh?

Take the gloves off.

DRACO: Can we keep the rest of the bondage gear, though?

I don’t care.

HARRY: Well, that was easy.

They remove the gloves and start looking for the snitch. In the stands, Ron and Hermione look at each other.

RON: Were Harry and Draco just supplementing each other’s sentences?

HERMIONE: This is really weird.

RON: I’m glad we’re never getting slashed.

HERMIONE: Speak for yourself.

RON: Alas! for it seems I shall never know true love. Or even false love. Dammit.

Back in the game.

HARRY: Doo dee doo.

ROGUE BLUDGER: Die, you!

HARRY: Gyah!

Harry leans back and the bludger flies past him.

HARRY: Gee, I sure am glad that’s over.

OLIVER: Hey, watch yourself, Harry, or you’re going to jinx—

Just then Oliver’s broom is smashed in half by the bludger, which has turned around and is heading back at Harry. Oliver lands on the Astroturf with a sickening thud and comes to a second later.

OLIVER: Well, it could have been worse. At least I was taken out of the game by a bludger and not the scary horde of—

Fred lands beside Oliver and slaps a hand over his mouth.

FRED: (hisses) Don’t say it and maybe they won’t come. Now we’ll hold really still and pretend to be, um, decorative shrubs or erotic pottery or something.

They hold stock-still. Meanwhile, Harry is being chased all over the place by the bludger.

HARRY: Does nobody besides me notice that this ball is behaving in exactly the way it shouldn’t?

MADAME HOOCH: (buries face in copy of Witch Weekly)

DUMBLEDORE: (files nails)

MOST OF OTHER TEACHERS: (search for interestingly-shaped clouds)

DRACO: Practising for the ballet, Potter?

HARRY: You wish!

DRACO: …So? Say, what’s that buzzing sound directly next to my ear? Meh, can’t be bothered to turn my head and look.

HARRY: (notices this, pauses for a minute, and then points in the complete opposite direction as the snitch) Hey, look, it’s Blaise Zabini in men’s clothing!

DRACO: (spins around) Where?

HARRY: (goes after the snitch) Fooled you!

Draco growls and flies after him. They somehow end up under the bleachers chasing the snitch. But just then…

ROGUE BLUDGER: Guess who! Hah!

So Harry and Draco and the bludger fly around in circles for about ten minutes. At one point Harry gets his arm broken by the bludger, but hey, it’s just a flesh wound. They continue flying and the bludger continues smashing wooden beams in an unnecessarily noisy manner. It goes on and on and on.

AUDIENCE: Yeah, um, is anything interesting going to happen anytime soon?

Draco accidentally runs into a crossbeam and goes flying. He lands on his… well… you don’t want to know what he lands on.

DRACO: (voice squeaking) Oh, god, even if I were straight I’d never have children…

Up in the bleachers.

LUCIUS: (sneers) Am I a cold, heartless bastard or what?

SNAPE: (looks around) What is this, the evil authority figure section of the stands?

Meanwhile…

HARRY: Almost there… almost there…

DISEMBODIED VOICE OF ALEC GUINESS: Use the Force, Harry!

HARRY: What the--?

ALEC GUINESS: Trust your instincts!

HARRY: Um, okay.

Harry catches the snitch and goes flying off his broom and onto the pitch.

HARRY: Yay! I win!

ROGUE BLUDGER: Not if I have anything to do with it!

The bludger tries to smash his head a couple of times and then goes for his… well… you don’t want to know what it goes for.

HARRY: Meep.

Just then Hermione runs out onto the field.

HERMIONE: Finite incantatem!

The bludger explodes.

AUDIENCE: I thought that spell was just supposed to end other spells, not make things explode.

MALI: You’re right. Rewind.

The film reverses itself and starts the sequence over. Hermione runs out onto the field.

HERMIONE: Umm… uh… kaboomium explodiosa!

The bludger explodes.

HERMIONE: Cannot believe that worked.

HARRY: (is painfully showered in bludger-shrapnel)

Half of the rest of the cast shows up.

LOCKHART: I’ll fix you!

EVERYONE: No, wait--!

LOCKHART: Brakium immendo!

AUDIENCE: Eww!

HARRY: Well, shit.

The hospital wing. Harry’s arm looks normal again, except for the fact that a small panel on his forearm is opened, revealing a bunch of wires and microchips beneath. Madame Pomfrey pokes each of his fingers with a pin to test his reflexes.

FRED: Well, look on the bright side, Harry: You’re probably the first kid in Hogwarts history to have a bionic arm!

HARRY: Yeah, but it’s going to be kind of awkward having to stick my finger into an electrical outlet to recharge it.

MADAME POMFREY: All right, everybody out!

Later that night, Harry is awakened by something.

HARRY: Hrn. (puts on glasses and gasps)

Dobby is sitting on the table at the end of Harry’s bed.

HARRY: What are you doing here?

DOBBY: (throws himself down on the bed) Dobby admits it! (sobs) Dobby jinxed the bludger! But Dobby did not mean for it to smash your head or your… never mind!

HARRY: Dobby, I’m going to strangle you! (latches onto his neck)

DOBBY: Oh, Dobby did not mean to kill Harry Potter, never kill Harry Potter! But Harry Potter does not understand the danger that he is in now that the Chamber of Secrets has been opened again!

HARRY: Again? You mean this has happened before?

DOBBY: I shouldn’t have said that.

HARRY: Who opened the Chamber before, Dobby?

DOBBY: Dobby cannot tell you. (snaps and disappears)

Enter Madame Pomfrey, McGonagall, and Dumbledore, carrying a student. They place him on the bed and we see that it’s Colin Creevey, somebody who’s not major enough in the actual film to have even been mentioned in this fic up until now. But he’s been here. Honest.

McGONAGALL: You know, I think he’s been petrified. Do you suppose he got a picture of his attacker?

Dumbledore takes the camera that Colin is holding out of his hands and opens up the back. A puff of black smoke emerges.

McGONAGALL: What does this mean, Albus?

ALBUS: I exposed the film. But I think it’s safe to bet that the Chamber of Secrets has been opened again.

MUSIC: Dum dum DUM!

The next day, in a bathroom. Hermione is sitting on the floor cooking in a cauldron.

RON: So why are we doing this in a bathroom again?

HERMIONE: Because nobody ever comes in here.

HARRY: Why not?

HERMIONE: Moaning Myrtle.

RON AND HARRY: Who?

Moaning Myrtle appears from one of the cubicles.

AMERICAN AUDIENCES: (open mouths to say something)

BRITISH AUDIENCES: (smack the Americans before they can even say it)

MOANING MYRTLE: I’m really like 36 years old, but I look like I’m 14. What’s with that?

The other three shrug.

MYRTLE: I’m going to go off and wallow in self-pity some more.

Yeah, that ended kind of abruptly, but only because it’s dueling club time!

LOCKHART: Good afternoon! Can you all see me? Can you all hear me? Good!

Lockhart throws his cape to a bunch of girls in the audience, who catch it, giggling.

LOCKHART: Headmaster Dumbledore has given me permission to start this little dueling club just in case the monster follows the rules of wizard chivalry. Allow me to introduce my assistant, Professor Snape.

Snape appears. He throws his cape to Draco, who catches it, giggling.

AUDIENCE: It’s just fully hit us that we’re stuck in a parody being written by a crazy woman. We don’t like it.

MALI: Shut up or I’ll present you with my collected evidence that Orlando Bloom is having a secret affair with Ian McKellen.

AUDIENCE: Meep.

MALI: I thought as much. (looms over the audience like a horrible totalitarian dictator, laughing maniacally and brandishing fiery balrog!whip) I put the “author” in “authority,” baby!

AUDIENCE: (start silently plotting insurrection and/or escape plan)

Snape and Lockhart assume their dueling positions. Snape’s worn a delightfully tight-fitting coat just for the occasion.

LOCKHART: One…two…five!

HARRY: Three, sir!

LOCKHART: Three!

SNAPE: Expelliarmus!

Lockhart goes flying across the room. He gets up and finds his wand.

SNAPE: Bloody hell I’m fantastic. I mean, uh, grr, cranky.

LOCKHART: Umm, right, it was only all too obvious what you were going to do. Let’s have a volunteer pair. How about Potter and Weasley?

SNAPE: [student A and/or their wand] causes devastation with the simplest spells. We’ll be sending what’s left of [student B] up to the hospital wing in a matchbox.

ANNOUNCER: And the award for most obscure, nitpicky little idiocy goes to the preceding line!

SNAPE: How about… Malfoy? (tries to look innocent)

AUDIENCE: Aww, he’s cute! And greasy-lookin’!

Harry and Draco get up onto the platform.

SNAPE: Okay. Malfoy walks, Potter duplicates. Let’s do this.

LOCKHART: But who’s gonna call it?

DAVID BOWIE: I believe I might be of some help.

MALFOY: (removes his underwear without taking off his pants)

HARRY: (blanches) I’m in trouble.

GRAHAM CHAPMAN: Right, this is getting silly! It started off as a nice little parody, but it’s just got silly! Now, when I say cut, we’re going to start the scene over. Director… cut!

Harry and Draco get up onto the platform.

SNAPE: All right, grab some castanets and get in positions. On three: one… two… five!

BLAISE ZABINI: Three, sir!

SNAPE: Three!

A bit of awed silence.

HERMIONE: I didn’t know Harry knew how to flamenco.

RON: How is either one actually going to win?

GRAHAM CHAPMAN: It’s silly again! Now, nobody likes a good Andalusian dance more than I do. Except perhaps my wife. And some of her friends. Come to think of it, most people like a good Andalusian dance more than I do. So when I say cut…

Harry and Dra—

GRAHAM CHAPMAN: Wait for it! …Cut!

Harry and Draco get up onto the platform.

DRACO: Scared, Potter?

HARRY: Yeah, in fact I think I need to find a clean pair of underwear.

DRACO: Here, I can get you mine. Don’t even have to take my pants off.

HARRY: I was being sarcastic.

They take their positions.

SNAPE: One… two…

DRACO: I… uh… non-canon spell… erm… apassionata!

Harry goes flying backwards spectacularly, landing in a heap. He gets up and faces Draco.

HARRY: Whatever he said!

Draco does the same. Snape hauls him up by the collar.

DRACO: (waxes poetic) As a result of that uncaring gesture, I can feel my first boyhood crush fizzling out like so many hot coals left to perish in the thunderstorm of harsh reality.

SNAPE: (so unbelievably relieved)

DRACO: But anyway… serpentsortia!

Draco’s wand produces a snake.

AUDIENCE: That sounded really wrong.

SNAKE: I am the Tasteful Haircut Faerie and I’m here for the boy with the awful 80’s blow-dried look.

The snake goes after Justin Finch-Fletchley.

JUSTIN: I have to agree; by appearance alone I’m so goddamn irritating I don’t even deserve to live. (sobs uncontrollably)

HARRY: No, wait, stop!

WHAT EVERYONE ELSE HEARS: Ssssssssshhhhhiiiiiiire… Bagginsssssssss…

SNAKE: Oh, come on; look at the kid! It’s for the good of the whole world. Why can’t you just give me, like, thirty seconds? I can have him dead in thirty seconds.

HARRY: Because sometimes the needs of the one outweigh the needs of the many. I heard that on Star Trek.

WHAT EVERYONE ELSE HEARS: Preccccciousssssssssssssss…

The student body erupts into a general panic.

Back in the Gryffindor Common Room…

RON: Harry, why didn’t you tell us!

HARRY: Tell you what?

RON: You’re a parselmouth!

HARRY: I haven’t had any parsley today!

HERMIONE: A parselmouth. It means you can talk to snakes.

HARRY: Well, duh, who can’t?

RON: Um, pretty much everybody.

HERMIONE: There’s a reason the symbol of Slytherin is a snake, Harry. Salazar Slytherin was a parselmouth too. The only one. And back in the dueling club, you were speaking parseltongue.

HARRY: I was speaking another language? How can I speak another language without knowing I can?

RON: I think this means you’re a Southern Baptist.

HERMIONE: (thwaps Ron) He’s can speak to snakes, you twat, not speak in tongues.

The next day, or some day after that, in the library.

HUFFLEPUFF HOUSE: Grr, we don’t like you, Harry Potter. …Hey, we’re actually… here. In the movie. In substantial numbers. Take that, Ravenclaw! Booyah!

RAVENCLAW: (sob)

HARRY: I think I’m going to go sulk somewhere where people can’t shoot me dirty looks.

FRED: Make way for the heir of Slytherin!

GEORGE: Seriously evil wizard—

Cut to a corridor near the library. Absolutely no reason to include the best line in the book in the movie, is there?

AUDIENCE: Grargh.

Harry comes around a corner and happens upon Nearly Headless Nick and Justin Finch-Fletchley, both petrified.

HARRY: Let’s review my situation. I’ve been caught at the scene of the crime once before. I can speak parseltongue and everybody knows it. As far as anyone knows I might actually be the heir of Slytherin, and most people think I am. Is there any reason for me not to hang around here waiting to be discovered with two more petrified people, one of whom people think I recently set a big snake on?

Beat.

HARRY: Of course not! (stands around until Filch comes)

FILCH: Ooh, no way you’re not going to be expelled now! Hah!

HARRY: Uh oh.

Enter McGonagall.

McGONAGALL: Go to your room! I mean the principal’s office.

Outside Dumbledore’s office…

McGONAGALL: Sherbert Lemon.

HARRY: Wheee!

Dumbledore’s office.

HARRY: Hello?

AUDIENCE: There’s only one female headmaster in all the portraits on the whole wall. What’s up with that?

Um…

HARRY: (notices the Sorting Hat on a shelf) Er… excuse me?

SORTING HAT: Yeah?

HARRY: I was just wondering if you put me in the wrong house.

SORTING HAT: Yes, I’m afraid I did. Sorry about that. My bad.

HARRY: Aw, damn. Hey, look, a parrot! Hello, Polly, would you like a cracker?

The bird bursts into flames.

HARRY: Oh my god!

DUMBLEDORE: Harry?

HARRY: Your bird, sir… there was nothing I could do! It just… fwoom!

DUMBLEDORE: Fawkes is a phoenix, Harry; he’ll be all right in a moment.

HARRY: No, sir, he just internally combusted! He’s deceased! A stiff! Bereft of life! He has been shuffled loose the mortal coil and joined the choir invisible! If he weren’t a smallish pile of ash, he’d be pushing up the daisies! He wouldn’t be all right in a moment if you put ten thousand volts through him! Fawkes is an ex-phoenix!

DUMBLEDORE: Harry, phoenixes burst into flame when it is time for them to die and are reborn from the ashes.

A widdle baby phoenix emerges from the remains of the old one. Aww, innit cute? He’s an adowable widdle schnookums, yes he is!

DUMBLEDORE: Marvelous creatures, phoenixes. They can do whatever the plot requires of them whenever it is called for.

Just a note: this movie is not, I repeat not, Jurassic Park.

The Great Hall.

HERMIONE: I’ve filled these cupcakes with an animal tranquilizer. Make sure Crabbe and Goyle find them and meet me in the girls’ bathroom. Oh, yeah, and be sure to take their clothes; yours won’t fit you after you change.

HARRY: Take their clothes?

HERMIONE: Be brave. (leaves)

RON: Harry, I still don’t like this whole girls’ bathroom business.

HARRY: We’ve been through this before: if it keeps away that scary androgynous… elf… thing… we can deal with it.

The girls’ bathroom.

HERMIONE: One…two… three!

They drink the potion and then smash their glasses on the ground. This does not make them appear as rugged as they probably think it does. Ron and Hermione turn green and run off into stalls.

HARRY: I’m going to stay here and show off ILM’s nifty special effects.

AUDIENCE: Ooh, that’s not pleasant at all.

HARRY: Hey, wow, I really look like, um… Goyle. I’m Goyle, right? Or… Crabbe… Well, whatever.

RON: Harry?

HARRY: Oh, no. Ron, our voices haven’t changed!

RON: Well, mine starts during the spider sequence. We’re only twelve; it’s not like we’re in a great bloody hurry!

HARRY: No, I meant… god, you’re an idiot. Just forget about it and let’s go. Where’s Hermione?

HERMIONE: I think I’ll… just stay here.

HARRY AND RON: Um… okay.

They go down to the dungeons and realize that, um, duh, they don’t know where the Slytherin Common Room is or the password.

HARRY: Ai Ilúvatar, I feel stupid.

PERCY: What are you two doing down here?

RON: Um… uh… what are you doing down here?

PERCY: I’m… um… searching for my other shoe!

HARRY: You have two shoes on.

PERCY: Yes, but I… damn.

Just then Draco shows up.

DRACO: Crabbe! Goyle! Where have you been? And why are you wearing glasses?

HARRY: Oh, um… reading.

DRACO: Reading? …I didn’t know you could read.

AUDIENCE: No way you’re going to top that line. Can we leave now?

MALI: No! (brandishes balrog!whip)

AUDIENCE: (whimper)

Harry and Ron follow Malfoy back to the Slytherin common room. Or as we call it around here…

AUDIENCE: Where exactly is here?

…Draco’s Love Shack!

DRACO: Yes, Draco’s Love Shack! Home of the Triforce of Lurve, the most advanced Jacuzzi this side of the international date line, and an unnecessary amount of leather couches!

But we won’t go into that for another three years or so.

DRACO: Aw, darn. So anyway… Dumbledore’s a jerk, isn’t he?

HARRY: Well, aren’t I, I mean, uh, isn’t Harry Potter worse?

Draco slaps Harry.

HARRY: Sheez, this irony is killing me.

DRACO: If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times: I’m hiding something; nobody can hate someone as much as I appear to hate Harry Potter without secretly being in love with them.

RON: Slasher logic. Go figure.

AUDIENCE: Tell us about it.

Darth Maligna slaps the audience.

HARRY: Anyhow… so… do you happen to know who’s the Heir of Slytherin?

DRACO: No. Is this your small green box?

Ron and Harry shake their heads.

DRACO: Good.

Draco eats the small green box. Ron and Harry, disturbed, make a run for it.

Back in the girls’ bathroom, Harry and Ron return in their usual forms.

MOANING MYRTLE: Wait until you see Hermione; it’s awful. (grins evilly)

HERMIONE: Remember when I told you that the Polyjuice Potion could only be used for human transformations?

HARRY AND RON: Um… (check the script)

HERMIONE: (steps into the light, revealing that she has become neko!Hermione) Why I didn’t realize from colour, texture, and length that the hair I got off of Millicent Bulstrode’s robes belonged to her cat, I have no idea.

The corridor outside the girls’ bathroom.

HARRY: Geez, the poor audience. Stuck with us for the rest of the film.

RON: Can we still visit the girls’ bathroom even without Hermione? (sheepish) I’m kinda starting to like it.

HARRY: Yeah, let’s go!

They enter the girls’ bathroom.

MOANING MYRTLE: Somebody threw a book at me. I hate my life. I mean… oh, never mind. (goes off to cry in one of the toilets)

HARRY: Gee, what’s this?

The library, later that night.

HARRY: (looks at cover) Tom Marvolo Riddle… hmm, somebody’s personal life is encased in this diary. Let’s snoop around!

He opens the book.

HARRY: Oh, hell, there’s nothing in it. Well, might as well put it to good use.

Harry starts writing.

HARRY: Dear diary, today Ron tried to grope me under the table at supper. Am beginning to worry about author’s age-perception abilities. Also, Seamus accused me of being a pervy Slytherin fancier. What’s that supposed to mean?

Suddenly…

TOM RIDDLE: Stop that! This diary’s not blank; I wrote it in moon-letters, you ass.

HARRY: Oh, hello. I’m Harry Potter.

TOM: Hello, Harry Potter. I’m Tom Riddle.

HARRY: Random complete stranger, can you tell me anything about the Chamber of Secrets?

TOM: No. But I can show you.

HARRY: Why not? I trust you completely, unfamiliar man who lives in a mysterious book.

Suddenly there is a blinding light and Harry is transported into a 1930’s horror picture. Or maybe Young Frankenstein.

HARRY: What kind of person retains memory in black and white?

He walks down the hallway and comes upon Tom Riddle. The estrogen level amongst audiences skyrockets.

TOM: That’s because I’m the secret child of Orlando Bloom and Johnny Depp, one of the lesser-known results of Pirates of the Caribbean.

AUDIENCE: You liar. Neither Orlando Bloom nor Johnny Depp is capable of bearing a child.

TOM: You people just don’t read enough mpreg.

AUDIENCE: You people just need a healthy dose of reality.

TOM: Anyway…

RANDOM PEOPLE: Move it; lifeless corpse coming through.

DUMBLEDORE: Dark and scary yet ridiculously good-looking student, what are you doing here?

TOM: Just admiring my handiwork. I mean, uh, seeing if the rumours were true.

DUMBLEDORE: Yep, they are. If I looked this old sixty years ago, how old am I in the film’s present? Wait, what was I saying? Oh, yeah. I think the school must be closed if we don’t find out who killed that person whose name we are, of course, not going to say.

TOM: But I don’t have anywhere to go! You can’t close the school!

DUMBLEDORE: I’m very sorry about this. (walks away)

TOM: (bites his lip) Now comes the point when I decide between the temptation to be evil and the perfectly normal desire not to go back to a horrible orphanage… Oh, hell.

Tom runs off down the hall, looking for somebody to frame.

TOM: Hey, you, conveniently-shadowed past incarnation of a major character! You don’t happen to have any odd creatures lying about, do you?

HAGRID: Well, I do happen to have this here giant spider…

TOM: Good. (turns around and yells down the hallway) Professor, Hagrid did it! Hagrid’s the heir of Slytherin!

HARRY: Nooooooooooo!

Harry is thrust out of the memory and back into Technicolor.

HARRY: (stunned) I don’t believe it.

AUDIENCE: Neither do we. You think after the Snape debacle in the last film we’re going to believe for a second that the main suspect, especially someone like Hagrid, is actually the one that did it?

HARRY: Meh.

The next day, out in the courtyard.

RON: Wait a minute… you’re saying that Hagrid is the heir of Slytherin?

HARRY: That’s what the suspicious-looking guy in the diary told me.

RON: Well, you can’t argue with anything that you read in books. After all, most of the world’s major religions are based off of that assumption.

Harry and Ron stare at each other for a few seconds and then burst out laughing. Just then, Neville runs in.

NEVILLE: Harry, come on; you have to see something!

Back up in the boys’ dormitory, Harry’s trunk has been ransacked and its contents are strewn all over the floor. Hedwig is sitting on the nightstand.

RON: Harry, your owl trashed your stuff!

NEVILLE: You evil, evil bird!

HARRY: Wait a second… (looks through the mess) My copies of Better Homes and Gardens and my collection of rare Bulgarian matchbooks are still here… what else of mine could anybody want?

NEVILLE: Um, your socks?

RON: Your sex pootie?

HARRY: (gasp!) Tom Riddle’s diary is gone! I am affronted!

RON: Well, that wasn’t really yours in the first place…

HARRY: Shut up. I am affronted!

Later that night, the protagonists are in the Gryffindor Common Room.

RON: You wear the corset and I’ll wear the panties.

HARRY: No.

RON: Okay, I’ll wear the panties and you take the corset.

HARRY: No.

RON: Okay, I’ll take the panties, you take the corset, and we’ll trade off when we get to Hagrid’s.

HARRY: Ron, this invisibility underwear does not do any good.

RON: (pulls on the corset) Yes, but it does quite flatter my figure, don’t you think?

HARRY: Shut up.

They manage to run down to Hagrid’s hut without being noticed. They knock on the front door.

HAGRID: (brandishes crossbow) Graarrgh, die, you one-nostriled fiend!

HARRY: Hagrid, what are you talking about?

HAGRID: Oh, sorry, Harry. I was expecting… um… never mind. Come on in.

HARRY: Hagrid, we came to ask you if you’ve ever… um… purposefully and with malicious intent… er… used physical means to… extinguish the electrical impulses traveling from a person’s brain throughout the rest of the nervous system… in such a way that—

RON: What he means is this: are you some kind of cold-blooded murderer?

Suddenly there is another knock at the door.

HAGRID: Quick, hide!

Harry and Ron look at each other, scared out of their wits. They run off into a corner and stand stock-still. Hagrid opens the door.

DUMBLEDORE: Hello, Hagrid. I’ve brought Cornelius Fudge over.

HAGRID: Hey, didn’t your hat used to be green?

FUDGE: I dropped it in some wet paint.

HAGRID: Pity.

FUDGE: Hagrid, I’m afraid that with all of these petrifications… is that the word? (looks at spellcheck) Bollocks. Well, with all of these incidents at the school, I have to do something, and that’s why I’ve decided to—

Lucius bursts in the door.

LUCIUS: —SEND YOU TO AZKABAN! MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA — (gasp, gasp) — HAHAHAHAHAHA!

FUDGE: Um, yeah.

Lucius suddenly glances over at Harry and Ron.

LUCIUS: Oh, you’ve gotten a new shrubbery. It’s hideous.

Lucius and Dumbledore march out.

CORNELIUS: C’mon, Hagrid.

HAGRID: Fourth clearing on the left after the fallen oak tree, go straight for half a mile and then turn and it’s right there. You can’t miss it. Just follow the spiders. And that’s all I have to say about that.

Exeunt.

HARRY: C’mon, Ron, we have to follow the spiders like Hagrid said.

RON: But I don’t like spiders.

HARRY: Shut up.

They head off into the Forbidden Forest, Fang in tow. As the scene progresses, Rupert Grint goes into puberty.

HARRY: Ooh, spooky.

RON: I don’t like spiders, I don’t like spiders, I don’t like spiders…

As they get deeper into the forest, the spiders get bigger and bigger.

AUDIENCE: Ewww!

MALI THE WORLD’S BIGGEST ARACHNOPHOBE: What? They’re not real. Why is everyone so grossed out? It’s not that bad! At least they’re not hiding out in the corner of your shower.

Just then...

ARAGOG: Boo!

HARRY AND RON: Gaaahhh!

ARAGOG: Who are you?

HARRY: We’re friends of Hagrid.

ARAGOG: Oh, hey, whadda ya know! Sit down, stay awhile!

HARRY: No, actually, we can’t. We just wanted to know about the Chamber of Secrets.

ARAGOG: I’m sorry, but we don’t speak of That-Which-Must-Not-Be-Named.

HARRY: Bollocks.

ARAGOG: But I will tell you one thing: the person who died when it was opened before died in a bathroom.

HARRY: Um, thanks.

ARAGOG: Hey, you wanna here about the time I orchestrated the only Imperial military victory seen in the Original Trilogy?

HARRY: No, thanks, we’ve really gotta be going.

ARAGOG: Well, okay. Stop by again some time!

Harry and Ron turn around and start back.

RON: Sheesh, what is it with Star Wars alumni and only doing voiceover work 25 years later, anyway?

HARRY: (snotty accent) Actually, Julian Glover does many things besides voiceover work, and his résumé includes parts in many films that simply happen to be of lesser renown than the Harry Potter series. In fact—

Just then they are surrounded by a group of attractive blondes.

HALDIR: That dog breathes so loud we could have shot him in the dark. So does the redhead.

RON: Hey!

HARRY: Who are you?

HALDIR: I am Haldir of Lórien and this is my band of Merry Elves.

RON: What do you want with us?

HALDIR: You have entered the realm of the Lady of the Wood. You cannot go back.

HARRY: Who’s the Lady of the Wood?

HALDIR: Erm. We’re really not sure; we can’t actually tell each other apart.

RON: Say, you kind of remind me of our potions professor…

HALDIR: Shut up.

HARRY: Look, we’re just trying to find our way back to Hogwarts, so if you’d just let us go—

HALDIR: Absolutely not!

HARRY: Well, um… we’re friends of Leggy the House Elf. (looks hopeful)

HALDIR: Legolas? Grrgh! (fists clench) That non-expendable pretty-boy! Thinks he’s so great because he’s a main character and is shagging the king of Gondor and gets to ponce around in a French maid outfit all day! Gets all the publicity and all the fangirls, even though he’s as flaming as I am! I’ll teach him to survive Helm’s Deep!

HARRY: Okay, that didn’t go over as well as planned…

HALDIR: (livid) You’re coming with me. Now.

Suddenly, from out of nowhere, there is a honking sound and the Ford Anglia returns.

RON: Yay! Good old Harrison, I knew you’d return someday!

HARRY: You named your car Harrison?

RON: Yeah, don’t you get it?

HARRY: (rolls eyes) Let’s just make our getaway.

They jump in and immediately there is a distinct hissing sound as four tires are neatly punctured by four arrows.

RON: Don’t worry; we can drive it back to Hogwarts on the rims!

HARRISON: I don’t deserve this.

They do so.

HALDIR: Argh, foiled again! Oh, well. Let’s all go put on miniskirts and play Twister.

ELVES: Yes!

Meanwhile, back near Hagrid’s hut, Harry and Ron jump out of the car, which speeds away again.

HARRY: So, what did we learn today, class?

RON: Um, beware advice from large hairy men of questionable background?

HARRY: No! We learned that… uh… oh, bollocks.

They trudge back up to the school.

The next day, or something…

HARRY: Here, Hermione, let me change these nasty old flowers here, even if you really can’t appreciate them anyhow.

RON: We, um… miss you. Or something.

HARRY: Yeah.

RON: Not least because, after having been unconscious in these same clothes for weeks on end, you’re really starting to reek.

HARRY: (smacks Ron) That was uncalled for.

RON: It’s true!

HARRY: Yeah, you’re right. If only we could figure out some way to get her un-petrified, she could take a shower.

Long pause.

HARRY: Hey, a crumpled piece of parchment stuffed in her fist that we failed to notice all this time!

He unfolds the paper as they leave the Hospital Wing/sick bay/maternity ward.

Dear Harry and Ron,

I’ve just figured out what the monster from the Chamber is: a basilisk. A basilisk is a giant snake that kills whomever looks into its eyes. It’s been traveling through the school using the plumbing. I’m writing this letter because the way I figure it, if I’ve worked out the plot this early in the school year, I’m probably going to be petrified on the way back to the Common Room before I can tell you. But knowing you two, you’re probably only reading this note months later. You great twits.

~Hermione

HARRY: Wow, is this ever convenient.

Draco appears.

DRACO: Yeah, it must be nice having whatever you need fall right into your lap.

HARRY: (blank stare) Was that innuendo?

DRACO: No. Simply pointing out that in some franchises, people have to work to get what they need.

HARRY: We have to work for it. We just have Hermione do all of the hard parts while the audience isn’t looking. (walks off)

RON: Harry, what I don’t understand is why nobody was killed. They were all only petrified.

HARRY: Because this is a children’s franchise, Ron. Nobody can die. Or at least not until the end of the fourth book, and that’s not going to be very traumatizing because small children don’t like Cedric Diggory because he’s dating my Obligatory Hetero Love Interest. Or at least that’s what the author told me. I still don’t know what “hetero” means.

RON: No, no, no, I meant how are we going to explain away everybody getting petrified?

HARRY: Oh. Um. Well… Hermione had a mirror…

RON: She did?

HARRY: Justin saw the basilisk through Nearly Headless Nick, and Nick was already dead. And Colin was looking through a camera! Yes!

RON: What about Mrs. Norris?

HARRY: Oh. Um. She was combusting ants with a magnifying glass and saw it through that.

RON: Wow, Harry, you sure are smart.

Just then they come to a corner and stop short. They’ve come to the corridor with the girls’ bathroom and all of the teachers are gathered around the wall, on which is painted another message.

MESSAGE ON WALL: Romani ite domum!

Hah! Just kidding!

MESSAGE ON WALL: My skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever. I mean her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever. Oh, bollocks.

McGONAGALL: What do we do now?

SNAPE: Well, I say we go get drunk, ‘cause I’m all out of ideas.

SPROUT: Poor, poor Ginny Weasley.

A pause. Harry elbows Ron, who is picking at a hangnail and not paying attention.

RON: Oh! Uh… oh, dear.

Enter Lockhart.

LOCKHART: What’d I miss?

SNAPE: Go kill the basilisk, you narcissistic bastard.

The other teachers wander off to, presumably, go get drunk. Harry and Ron follow Lockhart back to his office. Those stupid, gullible doofs actually believe he’s going to do something about this.

HARRY: Wait! We want to help you do something about this!

LOCKHART: You actually think I could do anything if I tried?

HARRY AND RON: Um.

RON: What about all that stuff in your books?

LOCKHART: I made it up.

RON: Oh. Sheesh. That should have been obvious.

HARRY: Well, anyway, you’re coming with us because we might need a disposable character to use as bait.

They march off, dragging Lockhart.

RON: Harry, we still don’t know where the Chamber of Secrets is.

HARRY: Actually, I think I do.

Harry leads them to the girls’ bathroom.

LOCKHART: Hey, we can’t go in there. It’s—

RON: (elbows Lockhart) Quiet! You’ll call him. I mean her. I mean… it.

LOCKHART: …

HARRY: It’s a long story.

They enter.

HARRY: Myrtle?

MYRTLE: Yes?

HARRY: Um, we need to ask you something. How did you die?

MYRTLE: A giant snake came out of that sink over there. And I died.

HARRY: (goes over to the sink) This is it. This is the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.

Suddenly the soundtrack screeches to a halt and the film goes haywire and melts. There is general well-choreographed panic until all of a sudden Snape appears.

SNAPE: In order to make some extra money, I have taken a part time job as the Voice of—

AUDIENCE: God?

SNAPE: Logic. The Voice of Logic, you cretins. Anyway, I hate to interrupt your good time, but I felt the need to point out all of the logical inconsistencies with Mr. Potter’s latest revelation, thus ensuring that this film will not lower your esteemed IQ’s any more than it already has.

AUDIENCE: Err.

SNAPE: First off, they didn’t have indoor plumbing hundreds of years ago. That means that this sink was installed after the creation of the Chamber of Secrets. Thus we can assume that not only did the person who installed this sink not notice the giant underground labyrinth of impending doom behind it, but he also just so happened to put in a unique faucet with a snake on it precisely where it needed to be. Not to mention the fact that back when the Chamber was first opened there was not yet any reason for people not to use this bathroom, and so presumably they did, and the heir got away with everything in a public restroom. Not only that but a women’s restroom where he would have been rather conspicuous anyway.

The audience twitches and then bursts into tears, mourning the broken, jagged shards of their shattered faith. Snape smirks and dissolves into a cloud of black smoke. The movie returns.

RON: How does it, ah… how does it work?

HARRY: Um… parseltongue?

RON: Say something to it.

HARRY: My Preciousssss…

The sink lowers into the floor to reveal a largish hole in the floor. Snape appears again.

SNAPE: Here we come to yet another point in the grand parade of logical fallacies that make up this film: this hole. Not only would a Slytherin such as Tom Riddle never lower himself into jumping into a dirty, disgusting pit on a regular basis, but how would he have gotten back out if Harry is going to have to use the phoenix to do so?

AUDIENCE: Leave us alone, you horrible man! (sob)

Snape dissolves again.

HARRY: This is starting to curb even my enthusiasm.

RON: I like cheese.

Harry sighs and shoves Lockhart into the hole.

HARRY: Let’s go.

He grabs Ron and jumps. When they hit the bottom, they find themselves in a round room full of fish bones. And we all know that that means!

AUDIENCE: Um… subterranean sushi bar?

No!

RON: The fish are getting married?

HARRY: What would you even say that, Ron?

RON: Because I found this ring over here on the floor.

A jarring chord.

HARRY: Ron, put the ring down.

RON: But I found it! It came to me!

Harry grabs the ring and throws it off into a dark corner.

HARRY: Come on, both of you. And if you hear anything, squeeze your eyes shut and remember that if you can’t see it, it can’t see you.

They crawl through a nearby drain… sewer… thing and come out into another chamber which contains a very large discarded snake skin.

AUDIENCE: Well, that’s vaguely disgusting.

LOCKHART: Haha! And now I shall make my amazing, unexpected getaway.

Lockhart turns around and runs directly into a stone wall, knocking himself out and causing the ceiling to cave in, which separates Harry and Ron. Why this does not have any harmful repercussions involving whatever is above this particular section of the Chamber is unknown.

HARRY: Well, this is convenient. Later, Ron.

RON: Harry, I don’t want you to go! (cries)

HARRY: Fear not, sweet Ronald! For this is just something I… have to do.

Harry rushes onward into a long hallway lined with snake head things.

AUDIENCE: Very Temple of Doom, in a tacky sort of way. Maybe Salazar Slytherin should have hired a design consultant.

Shut up; this is a children’s movie.

AUDIENCE: Just because it’s a children’s movie doesn’t mean there can’t be tasteful architecture. Look at Star Wars.

I hate you.

Anyway, at the end of the hall is a final chamber that contains a pool of water, a statue of Salazar Slytherin, and Ginny Weasley.

HARRY: Hm. She’s dead. Oh well.

Harry turns to go, but a figure emerges from the shadows.

TOM: She’s not dead yet.

HARRY: Tom Riddle?

TOM: She’s almost dead, but not quite.

HARRY: But I don’t understand. Who—?

TOM: It was I, you idiot. The whole time! Did you really think someone as ridiculously hot as I am could ever be a good guy in this universe?

HARRY: I guess not.

TOM: And how could you ever believe that there was the vaguest possibility that someone like Hagrid would even be in Slytherin, much less the heir of Slytherin?

HARRY: I… uh…

TOM: You, sir, are a twit.

HARRY: Sorry.

TOM: Oh, and by the way…

Tom produces a wand and writes his name in flaming letters in the air: TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE

HARRY: That wasn’t what your handwriting looked like earlier.

TOM: Shut up, scum. Now, what would I get if I rearranged these letters?

HARRY: “Revolt or I mold dam.”

TOM: (clenches teeth) I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.

HARRY: Er… “Li loved to ram dorm”?

Tom backhands Harry. He waves his wand and the letters rearrange on their own: I AM LORD VOLDEMORT

HARRY: Seriously?

TOM: Yes!

HARRY: Well, shit.

TOM: Yes, I am the heir of Slytherin. I released the basilisk fifty years ago. I framed Hagrid. And I possessed Ginny Weasley and made her do all my dirty work.

HARRY: You bastard!

TOM: I know. And now, I will call the basilisk and it will eat you. Haha! I’m so evil I have minions to do everything for me, even if it’s something as simple as killing a little boy. (turns around) PRECIOUSSS…

The mouth of the statue of Salazar Slytherin opens and the basilisk comes out.

AUDIENCE: I get the distinct impression that there’s something really filthy I should be saying right now, but I can’t really put my finger on exactly what it is.

HARRY: I guess I should run, eh?

Harry turns and runs. Suddenly Fawkes appears, carrying the Sorting Hat. He drops the hat next to Tom.

TOM: This is what Dumbledore sends to aid his great champion? A bird and an old hat?

Fawkes, in a very Hitchcock-inspired move, pecks the basilisk’s eyes out.

TOM: Well, shit.

HARRY: I win!

TOM: The basilisk can still hear you, bitch!

HARRY: Dammit.

Harry runs off into a side tunnel, making sure to smack his feet on the ground as loudly as humanly possible.

HARRY: Hmm, instead of running down one of those clear passages right in front of me, I think I’ll turn down this way and try to break these iron bars.

The basilisk comes up behind him, leaving him trapped.

HARRY; On second thought, maybe that wasn’t the best move on my part. Luckily, I have seen Return of the Jedi enough times to know that one should, when in doubt, throw a rock.

Harry throws a rock past the basilisk, which foolishly assumes that 12-year-old children sound like stones and follows that instead. Harry runs back into the main chamber.

TOM: Since you’re still not dead, I’d kill you myself, but I’m too busy filing my nails right now. (files)

HARRY: Hey, the Sorting Hat. I wonder what I’m meant to do with this? Oh, look, a sword. I wonder what that was doing in there?

SORTING HAT: Don’t look at me; JKR was probably smoking something pretty strong when she wrote this.

HARRY: Figures. (picks up sword)

AUDIENCE: What the hell? That’s less akin to a sword than it is to a letter opener. It’s like the flippin’ Butter Knife of Gryffindor.

HARRY: Maybe if I climb up this statue here, it’ll somehow help me. Or not.

BASILISK: Boo!

HARRY: Poke, jab, hoping to hit something…

Harry somehow manages to stab the basilisk through the roof of its mouth, right into its brain.

AUDIENCE: Ew.

Unfortunately, he ends up with one of the basilisk’s fangs embedded in his arm.

BASILISK: Hah! I’m taking you with me! (dies)

TOM: No! I’m not happy!

Harry climbs down and runs over to Ginny.

TOM: No matter. The basilisk’s poison is really… poisonous. You’ll be dead soon.

HARRY: Bloody hell. (pulls the fang out of his arm) Well, before I die, I’m going to do something very heroic.

Harry slowly raises the fang above Tom’s diary, which is lying on the floor.

TOM: Wait, what are you doing? No! Don’t even think about stabbing my diary with that!

HARRY: I’m going to!

TOM: Nooooooo!

Harry stabs the diary, and Tom explodes in a big flash of light. There is a disturbance in the Force, as though a million fangirls cried out in terror, and were silenced.

GINNY: Hey, I’m back and as irritating as ever!

HARRY: Ginny, you have to get yourself out. I’m dying; please tell Draco I want him to have my collection of rare Bulgarian matchbooks.

GINNY: But Harry, you can’t die!

On cue, Fawkes flies in and cries on Harry’s wound, which magically heals.

AUDIENCE: Dude, Fawkes is like the Holy Grail. Indiana Jones-ness would normally be a good thing, but in this case it just comes off as contrived.

And so Harry and his friends (and Lockhart) escape from the Chamber of Secrets because Fawkes, true to form, really can do whatever the plot requires of him.

Cut to Dumbledore’s office.

DUMBLEDORE: Once again, you’ve broken about fifty school rules, but we’re going to let you off anyway for saving the day yourself instead of coming to a teacher about it.

HARRY: But sir, there’s one thing I still don’t understand. Am I really the heir of Slytherin?

DUMBLEDORE: Of course not. That would be too interesting and unexpected a plot twist to go over well with small children. Tom Riddle is the heir of Slytherin, and you can speak parseltongue because he transferred some of his abilities to you when he tried to kill you.

HARRY: Why did you never mention that before?

DUMBLEDORE: Because I just made it up now.

Just then, Lucius Malfoy storms in, Dobby in tow.

HARRY: Dobby, you work for the Malfoys?!

LUCIUS: What the shit is this?

DUMBLEDORE: Ah, we were just giving Harry praise for saving the school in exactly the wrong manner.

LUCIUS: I see. So, who was the heir of Slytherin?

DUMBLEDORE: You know perfectly well who it is.

LUCIUS: You’re right. I’m really not hiding anything very well. But anyway, Potter, I’ll get you next time. Come, Dobby! (smack, thwap!)

Lucius turns and storms out. The audience vaguely wishes that Lucius would try something besides storming everywhere.

HARRY: (picks up Tom Riddle’s diary off of Dumbledore’s desk) Can I borrow this for a second?

Out in the hallway…

HARRY: Hey, you forgot something!

LUCIUS: (snarl) What?

HARRY: Your diary. You forgot your diary.

LUCIUS: I don’t want this. (gives it to Dobby)

HARRY: Haha! Victory is mine!

DOBBY: (pulls a pink thong out of the diary) Master has given Dobby clothes!

LUCIUS: What? That’s not mine.

HARRY: No, it’s mine! And what’s more, I was able to remove the thong and place it in the diary so quickly because your very own son has betrayed you!

LUCIUS: No!

HARRY: Yes! It was Draco who taught me to remove my underwear without taking off my pants!

LUCIUS: Curse you!

HARRY: Yeah, whatever.

LUCIUS: No, I mean literally. Avaaadaaaa—

HARRY: Wait! You’re just going to kill me using an illegal curse? Right outside of Dumbledore’s office?

LUCIUS: Grr. I guess not. But rest assured, Potter, that we will meet again, and next time you will not be so lucky.

Lucius turns and continues storming places.

The next day, the petrified people are revived by the mandrake roots, and Hagrid returns from his short stay in Azkaban. All is right with the world, and Hagrid gets a standing ovation, and thus we have one of the single sappiest, corniest, most annoying endings in the history of everything. You know when you have most of Slytherin house cheering for Hagrid, the world has really gone insane. If I were you, I’d go wash my brain with bleach before reading the book a few times to get rid of the badness. Otherwise this scene will stay in your mind forever, slowly eating away at your intellect until you become a mindless vegetable, unable to do anything but babble semi-coherently about the rape of your sanity. Do it now. Hurry.

AUDIENCE: Wait, before we go purge ourselves of this horrible intellectual pain, we want to know something. What’s the secret?

What do you mean?

AUDIENCE: The secret. It’s called the Chamber of Secrets, so what’s the secret?

It’s, um… a secret.

The end.