You are viewing a story from harrypotterfanfiction.com
A Cliché of Epic Proportions by Liam R
Chapter 1: Welcome Back
Author's Note: This is my first attempt at humour. I want to be clear, this story is a parody, utilising every Hogwarts-era cliche I have to try and make something funny. These horrible characterisations and cliches are all intentional, and I hope I make somebody laugh with this.
Thank you to: Justmenofear, Jenny, padfoot4ever and TheEmpress over at The Golden Snitches for giving me the incentive to write this story. Thank you <3
Hermione strutted into the Great Hall, forcing the huge doors backwards with an almost inhuman strength. She flicked a strand of her blonde hair away from her eyes, examining the room, where every head was turned towards her, wide eyes trained on her chest.
“OH SORRY I’M LATE,” she boomed, prompting every being in the room to cover their ears. “MY FOOTBALLER BOYFRIEND DROPPED ME AT THE GATES, YOU KNOW HOW IT IS.”
As it happened, they did not.
A girl with hair the exact same colour as hers, who sported the same outfit and hair style ran up to her, tripping as she went. This girl had apparently come out of nowhere, and because the author is far too lazy to explain that she actually came from a table just to the side of Hermione’s position, let’s just say that she did in fact appear from thin air.
“Hermione you’re late!” she shrilled in an American accent. “We haven’t gone through our ritual of staring at every boy Hogwarts has to offer ‘cause their clearly SO into us.”
This girl, affectionately known as Hermione’s Sidekick, but whose real name is in fact unknown because the author thinks it adds an air of mystery to the story, was not American at all. She had just been putting on that accent since the first time she watched Gossip Girl, despite the fact that this happened around ten years before that show ever even existed.
Hermione spotted Ron and Harry sitting at the Gryffindor table and marched over to them, her high heels clicking annoyingly on the floor. The Sidekick followed close behind, staring adoringly at Hermione’s bleached hair, while secretly thinking she was a slut.
“Boys,” she said seductively, clearing a space between the two by forcefully shoving her way in.
“Where can I sit?” The Sidekick grinned.
“Oh you know, anywhere that isn’t going to be in my way.”
She looked confused for a moment before following her orders and scuttling away.
Hermione looked at Ron, who was gazing at a spoon in wonder, as though he had never seen anything so marvellous in all his days, before turning to Harry. His eyes were black with eyeliner, as were his lips. His face was completely white, and he was currently busying himself by carving a pentagram into the table with a knife he had inexplicably sharpened.
“So, Ron, do you like my hair? It’s like, soooo hot, yeah?”
Ron looked at her for a moment, drooling.
“Right, right ...”
Beside Ron sat a girl who was dressed in all in black, with her hood pulled up over her face. Her hair was long and greasy, and her eyes gleamed red. Hermione gave her a questioning glance, and the girl hissed at her.
Across the table, Seamus Finnegan was staring at her.
“Seamus, who’s that girl? She’s like ... hella ugly, you know?”
He did not.
“I dunno, some new girl.”
Hermione looked again at that pale face, the lack of a nose and gleaming red eyes. Hmm, there’s something weird about her, she thought.
Looking around her, Hermione saw Draco Malfoy sitting at the Slytherin table, offering bread to an elderly homeless man that had somehow found his way into Hogwarts without any explanation as to why or how.
“Come on, just take it, you look hungry. Can we be friends?”
He was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Hermione swooned. Draco Malfoy, everything about him was just so perfect. That greasy hair, gaunt complexion, the way he fed that homeless man. He was so right for her, so perfect that she found herself drooling over him.
When he was done feeding the homeless, he hugged an orphan, threw money at other students, and declared that he would be selling make love, not war T-shirts after dinner.
At the staff table, Professor McGonagall stood, surveying them all with a beady glance.
“Welcome back to Hogwarts! It is so wonderful to see so many of you return after what happened ... it’s just wonderful. This year, we have a new student named Volminia.” She pointed to the girl with the red eyes, who took this as a moment to hiss at the other students. “Yes, yes, welcome. Enjoy your meals.”
Hermione rolled her eyes.
“Ugh, silly cow. I hate this school! I just want to be a model. But ... wait, Harry, why are you back here for your seventh year? I thought you were training to become an Auror! And why are you back, Ron?”
“We decided to disregard canon for no apparent reason,” Harry muttered.
Hermione turned and noticed that Volminia had left her seat, and was currently feasting on several student’s necks, drinking their blood and hissing maniacally.
I still think there’s something off about her.