Ronald Weasley and the Half-Blood Goblet of Phoenix Stone

1. One Shot

A/N: Okay, I’ve had this idea for a while and this is the ‘funnest’ thing I’ve ever written. It’s a combination of a parody and a personal account, and I don’t know if this should technically be classified as H/HR or R/LL, but it’s not really either. I’ve never read anything like it, and I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. And I don’t care HA! It’s from Ron’s point of view and has Book 7 spoilers, but that’s all I’ll tell you. You really don’t need to know much more and you’ll find out eventually. I will give you this advice before reading it- don’t nitpick it, just read. This has horrible grammar usage and is so politically incorrect it isn’t funny. This is my Ron, in kind of a bad mood, and while maybe totally out of character to you, I thought it was a good laugh. So enjoy.

Ronald Weasley and the Half-Blood Goblet of Phoenix Stone in the Deathly Chamber of Azkaban

Hi. My name’s Ron. Ron Weasley.

And I’m a badass.

Yeah, I know, I know, can he really be that awesome? Let me answer your question with a question:

Yes.

What’s that? That’s not a question? It doesn’t have to be- because I’m just that awesome.

I mean, think about it- d’you think Harry Potter could ever have a title as awesome as that? I don’t think so…

Seriously, it seems like everything’s from his perspective, the “Chosen One” and all that rubbish. If it weren’t for me, he and Hermione’d still be back in that giant ass chessboard trying to outwit a bunch of enchanted marble. They wouldn’t stand a chance.

Did you ever notice how something bad happens at the end of EVERY year? Does nobody find this odd? By the time May or June rolls around Harry has to battle something wicked nasty. I try to tag along, of course, but something always keeps me from getting any of the glory.

Think about it- okay in the first book…er…year I had to get wounded by a punkass knight or something stupid like that. What the hell? Can I not dodge out of the way at the last second? I’m just riding on the back of a cheap plastic horse, I can slide right off. But whatever, at least Hermione gets to come back and tend to my wounds…

Which she did NOT do a very good job of, by the way. I was really laying it on thick, too (I should’ve told her my crotch hurt), but I was only twelve and unable to think of such things. Plus, Hermione wasn’t much of a looker back then, either. Ugh, not at all. Anyway, once she came back (like three hours later) she just kept looking over her shoulder and muttering about Harry- Harry this and Harry that- come on, woman, get me to the bloody hospital wing! He’s not gonna die in the first boo- year!

You know, we should’ve just left her in that bathroom on Halloween. Granted, it’s prolly my fault Hermione was in there in the first place (which I will admit to NO one, so you’d better keep your mouth shut), but I mean we wrestled a bloody troll for Merlin’s sake! How the hell can two ickle firsties that have only had two months of training take down a beast that shits bigger than my house? I mean, I know that I’m awesome, but I didn’t know I was that good.

Wait, yeah….I did.

But back to the first year ‘grand catastrophe’, Harry saves the day and all is well. We win a whole bunch of shit and no one cares about You-Know-Who or Squirrel or whatever his name was. And, oddly enough, he was never heard from again. I always thought he smelled like an anus, but Hermione just told me it was my upper lip. I’ll have you know that I scrub my upper lip extra hard every morning, so that can’t be it. So there.

Second year rolls around and I’m lying around my house in the summertime, beating Ginny off with a stick from all the stupid questions she’s asking me about guess who? Yeah…him. Anytime Harry’s name got mentioned she’d piss her pants and run to the loo. How pathetic. So, I decide- hey, let’s steal my dad’s crazy ass muggle car p.o.s that’s been illegally bewitched to fly, and go kidnap Harry from a couple of muggle turds. Whaddaya say, Fred and George?

And off we went.

So, when we can’t pass the barrier at King’s Cross station on September 1, I decide- hey, let’s steal my dad’s crazy ass muggle car p.o.s. that’s been illegally bewitched to fly, and go to Hogwarts? Nobody will think that’s weird at all. I bet nobody will even see us. Haven’t you seen the Hogwarts parking lot? Dumbledore drives a Gremlin.

That’s what she said.

But, Ron, how do you know what a Gremlin is? You’re a pureblood wizard! Well, diehard Harry Potter nerds that will point this out in reviews because you have nothing better to do than critique FANFICTION which is completely made up anyway, I studied muggle cars in fifth year when Hermione and Harry started talking about them, and- trying to impress her with some of my ‘patented muggle knowledge’- I started spouting off some makes and models. Unfortunately, the Hogwarts library has very limited knowledge of the muggle automobile, and- as it turns out- they continued to update and improve cars after the year 1974.

Sadly, this knowledge could have helped me.

So, when I began talking about future plans to make a thing called ‘the Delorean’ that’s supposed to look like ‘the car of the future’, they both started laughing in my face.

“Did you go ‘back to the future’ to tell us that, Ron?” Hermione sniggered.

How the hell am I supposed to know that car was a joke and the centerpiece of some cult classic muggle movie? Excuse me for trying to learn about stupid caveman garbage that gets you from point A to point B slower than a wounded hippogriff and is ten times more likely to kill you so I can hold a conversation with you people. Merlin’s asscrack.

Anyway, when we get to school the stupid car just throws us on to the bloody lawn and takes off into the woods with all our crap rolling around everywhere, and that god damn tree starts pms-ing on us. And guess who comes to greet us? That slimey-ass gothic son of a bitch, Snape. Who barfed in your cheerios? I would’ve if I knew I wouldn’t get caught.

When the end of the year comes along, once again another huge climax falls upon Harry (and myself, if I can help it). I may be getting a little bit ahead of myself here, but how is it that I have to go with Harry when we almost get eaten by a bunch of filthy bloodsucking spiders and keep an even stupider version of Lockhart entertained while I move a MOUNTAIN of rocks in a passageway, when Hermione gets to go back in time and ride a hippogriff and save Harry’s badass uncle or whatever’s life? Ron can’t get no love?

Hermione gets to be in the hospital wing when we go to the forest with that bloody dog, drooling all over my trousers and farting the whole way. Yeah- it smelled awful. YOU try aimlessly wandering in eternal darkness with a god and an overgrown dog with the shits. It isn’t pleasant.

We finally got to that f-ing death trap with Hagrid’s ancient “pet” who’s BLIND by the way, and we try to be nice and warn the stupid thing or whatever- you know, I don’t even know why we were there. And I don’t care, either. Spiders are the work of satan, and the fact that I had to be around five million GIANT ones ought to get me a free pass to somewhere. Hopefully not hell.

I mean, they have EIGHT legs! What needs that many legs? They’re all fuzzy and bristly and sticky and wiggly and they have forty eyes and those pincers with toxic slime that oozes all over the place. I might pass out just thinking about it. And what’s with the webs? What kind of creature has some kind of string that whips out of its ass? Who needs a string hole? That’s just nasty.

So, later on, when I’m stuck underneath the girls’ bathroom with mega tard, WHO TRIES TO KILL US, or maybe just erase our memories, but I tell people he tried to kill us. Isn’t that more dramatic? He just sits there like an oaf, asking me weird shit about his life. So, I gave him a new one. And I might have hit him with a few rocks. And a boulder.

Oddly, no one asked about his bruises.

At any rate, I told Lockhart that he was a fag, and he aspired to be a drag queen. His real name was Funky Humphauser, but his stage name was Cock Johnson. He asked me if he liked roosters, so I was like, uh…yeah. Sure. I told him he was born a lady, but they put man parts on him with a spell called peniweenus. That’s why he was in this cave, because he hasn’t been revealed to the public as a man, yet. He seemed to buy it.

I also told him he had a boyfriend who lives in Albania, and he’s a toothless gypsy. I suggested that when we get out of here he try to find him, because he’ll want to see the ‘new you.’ The rest of the time he worried about what he should wear, or if ‘Ajani’ will still love him, and I tried to encourage him to stay positive. True love is blind.

After Harry saved the day again and rescued my prepubescent sister from You-Know-Who’s memory? Book? Old self? Snake? Hell, I don’t know- does that even make sense? See, this is why I don’t read. Books are dangerous. They’ll kill you.

I find it odd and TOTALLY NOT FAIR that I got a howler for stealing my dad’s crazy ass muggle car p.o.s. that’s been illegally bewitched to fly and driving it to Hogwarts, but Ginny kills a cat (sort of, I dunno what really happened- I don’t really pay a lot of attention…) and a bunch of chickens and writes in an evil journal to YOU-KNOW-WHO and she gets off without a hitch! What the hell Molly and Arthur? Fred and George stuck a firecracker up Umbridge’s arsehole and flew out of a crack in the ceiling. Before they ever even attempted to take their N.E.W.T.s. You never did anything to them either. Life is so unfair.

Yeah, so like I was saying, third year I get to be in the hospital wing when all the cool shit goes on. All because of that stupid rat. Why did I care so much about that thing anyway? What possessed Percy to even buy that thing? Did he buy it? I dunno, Percy was weird. I think he’s gay, personally. I mean, who wears horn-rimmed glasses anymore? Especially a man? And he’s even more of a stickler about the rules than McGonagall. He’s the mannish version of McGonagall. He probably wishes he was her, because then it would be more acceptable for him to date men. Even though he’d be old as sin and he couldn’t get anything, anyway. ‘Cept maybe Dumbledore.

And if he IS gay, I guess he could have Dumbledore either way. But I know deep down to my core that Dumbledore is straight, because if he was an ancient queer, all those times he spent alone with Harry would be creepy as fuck, and if someone were to write about the events that took place and put them into children’s novels, that would be MESSED UP.

I rest my case.

Anyway, I don’t know what all went down third year, but I wasn’t really a part of it…and Harry and Hermione never really told me exactly what happened, and it was always kind of their little secret. I suppose I should have known then something was up. But hey, even though Harry gets to do all the awesome ass kicking stuff, at least I get the girl! Right?

Right??

I don’t really want to talk about fourth year…mainly cos my jealously had built up to a frothing boil and I couldn’t handle being the dopey sidekick anymore. But, you know, if my name had come out of that goblet I probably would have shit in my trousers and cried on the way up to the tent, and as I walked by everyone would be wrinkling their nose and asking “what’s that stench?” and then see a bunch of brown oozing down my legs. Well, maybe the robes would cover it up, but I might have taken them off for fear of spontaneously combusting. It’s a good thing it happened the way it did.

Yeah, I was wicked pissed at some Harry, and so were a whole lot of other people, but not Hermione. She goes off and brings him toast and helps him with his tasks and whatnot. Blecch. Meanwhile I’m trying to chum up with Victor Krum who I thought was just like the wizard Jesus, or Harry. It kinda sucked being mad at Harry, though, cos I had to be friends with Dean and Seamus and they’re boring as hell. And they might be gay, too. Merlin, is everyone gay? And Neville’s got the personality of a bandaid. Complete with mesh and adhesive.

He’ll stick to you like one, too, and you’ve gotta nearly rip him off to get rid of him. No wonder his gran tried to kill him when she threw him off the roof to see if he had any magic. I wouldn’t have waited till he was ten.

But, eventually, Harry and I made up, and then something kind of creepy happened. There was the challenge where the thing (or I guess person, cos everybody’s was a person) you treasured most was taken from you and anchored to the bottom of the nasty ass lake, and Harry’s person was me.

Now, of course I was flattered by this, you know cos I’m awesome and all, but I’m a bloke. And what the hell was up with Hermione being Krum’s person? He’d only known her for like six weeks or something? What a bunch of crock! He just wanted to tap that, I know. You can’t trust those dirty Bulgarians. They’ll rape you.

You know, it’s really demasculating to have a dude rescue you- especially when you’re a few months older and a little taller than he is. I don’t care if he is ‘the Chosen One,’ I don’t want to be mixed up in some guy’s fantasy that’s supposed to be my best friend but he treasures my relationship with him more than anyone else. Who am I, Seamus and Dean?

Did no one think this was weird?? Do people think Harry and I are gay? Oh, Merlin, I hope not. Is that why we couldn’t get dates to the Yule Ball? Ah, yes- the Yule Ball. The stupidest estrogen-pumped piece of trash I’ve ever been to. And I was in Bill’s wedding.

I didn’t think to ask Hermione because she was ugly- there I said it! Harry had a thing for Asians and I just wanted to shag anything that moved….that wasn’t fat or ugly. So I’m shallow, shut up! My first shag was Lav-Lav Brown, of course I’m shallow. My previous biographer will tell you we only snogged, but c’mon, really? We were like bloody rabbits. You can make a headmaster gay and give private lessons in his office but none of the students at Hogwarts had premarital sex? I don’t think so…

I mean, Lavender wasn’t that awful. ‘Snot like you did any better your first time- who’d you do, Princess Di? Wait, Ron, how do you know who Princess Di was cos she’s a muggle? Well, overly picky Harry Potter fanfiction reviewer who needs to read a real book if he has to revert to critiquing mediocre internet smut, I happen to know all about the late Princess Diana from a muggleborn witch that I just so happen to hang around.

You see, when she passed away on August 31, 1997, Hermione cried for hours when she got wind of the news. So, I- longing desperately to be the shoulder for her to cry on- inquired about her random acts of sobbing. She tells me something in weird mumbles, with snot running down her lips and her eyes all blanch-ey, and I’m like, “Eeeewww…er, what happened, ‘mione?” So she says,

“P-Prince Harry’s mum died!” and wails onto my shoulder, clutching at my chest as I try not to throw up. My mum just washed that shirt, and it was my favorite. I had the Cannon’s keeper autograph the back when I went to see a game when I was little. I think I was like five…and YES, the shirt still fits, thank you very much. It might be a bit snug, but I think it shows off my rippling abs quite nicely. You’re just jealous.

And Prince Harry?Isn’t that a bit eccentric? A little over the top, don’t you think? I mean, so he might save all of wizardkind one day or something kind of cool like that, but I wouldn’t call him a prince. What exactly would he be the prince of, scars? I mean, I hate to admit it, but it is kind of badass. I’d love to have a bolt of lightning tattooed on my face, or a cool scar over my eye or somethin’.

Note to self: get wicked awesome ass beating tattoo on face.

I almost forgot to put ‘beating’ in there, so it would have just said, “get wicked awesome ass tattoo on face.” That wouldn’t be good. Am I gay?

Shudder…

I think about naked girls an awful lot to be gay, so I think I’m good. But you never know…NO, I am NOT gay. At least I didn’t have a bloke be the thing I treasure most waiting for me at the bottom of a lake. That sounds like some sort of transsexual porno. But Ron, how do you know what a porno is if you’re a wizard? You don’t rent videos. Well, extremely annoying reviewer whose ass I would love to shove my wand into and do things only legal in the Republic of Bulgaria (PLEASE TELL ME THAT SENTENCE DID NOT SOUND GAY), I am a member of the male species, and muggle or not, we KNOW what a porno is.

Bow chicka wow wow.

Anyway, I think I’d have a big ass sandwich be at the bottom of the lake. I mean, I really love sandwiches, and if it was charmed so it wouldn’t get all slimy and soggy, I’d eat that thing right after I saved it and treasure every moment. Man, a sandwich sounds really good right now. I wonder if there’s a spell to conjure up a wicked good sandwich. You think that’s in Hogwarts, a History? I bet it is, otherwise nobody but Hermione’d read it.

Oh, yeah, Hermione! So after I voice my opinion aloud and state the obvious, which is, “But, Hermione, Harry’s mum died ages ago, I’m sure he’s gotten over it by now,” while thinking, damn this is a really random time to be upset about a murder that happened sixteen years ago, girls are really weird.

She proceeds to tell me, in a hissy voice that I love to impersonate cos it makes her mad, even though I know I sound just like her, “No, Ronald, you’re such an idiot! Prince Harry and Prince William’s mother- Diana, former Princess of Wales!” and she slapped my chest and stormed off in the other direction, to find Harry, no doubt. How the hell should I know who that is? And way to word it in a very misleading way, I mean you were just asking for it.

Dames will screw you one way or another. And that time it wasn’t the good way.

What was I talking about? Oh, the Yule Ball! Merlin’s balls, that was like five pages ago. If you can’t tell, sometimes I get distracted. Most of the time when I get distracted, I think about naked things. GIRLS- naked GIRLS. I swear I’m not gay, not that there’s anything wrong with that, I just don’t want to be some sort of advertisement for a freaky good time. Unless you’re a woman. A really hot woman. In that case, I’m very available.

So available, I couldn’t get a decent date for the Yule Ball. (Didn’t that tie back in nicely?) I ended up with Pungent Padma Patil, or Parvati, I don’t remember anymore. Does it really matter? All I know is that she had the thickest unibrow I’d ever seen, and I couldn’t decide whose was more manly, hers or Victor Krum’s. That’s mainly what I did that night. Isn’t that exciting?

Then, outta NOWHERE, this gorgeous babe comes floating down the stairs on my idol’s arm and I am immediately at attention, if you catch my drift, and drool pours out of my mouth worse than Fang. And, don’t tell anyone this, but I got the shits, too.

A heavenly chorus of angels sings as she descends the marble flight, and a beam of radiant light sparkles with every step. Is she a veela? Did she come from Bulgaria? Beauxbatons? The sky? Why, it’s none of the above. 

Holy fuck, it’s Hermione Granger.

And that’s when I knew I was in love with her. Who would have thought, me- a hunky badass with the wit and charm of London’s most eligible bachelor, would be attracted to a homely bookworm with the hair of a dying hag and the personality to match. Hermione was finally in bloom.

So, I was pretty much a dick the whole night, and I started hating Victor Krum, who I might have gone gay for. Yeah, I said it, I don’t really care anymore- this part of the story makes me cranky. We’ll skip to the next part where the grand crescendo of the story comes at the end of the year. To everyone’s surprise.

Does anyone think it’s weird that Dumbledore seems to have all the answers? It’s like he already knows everything that’s gonna happen…doesn’t this freak anybody out?? You’d think since he practically knows the future, he wouldn’t have DIED. But maybe he was just ready to go. Maybe Percy was sending him pervy owls.

On a side note, I think Penelope Clearwater is a lesbian now. This is really turning into ‘Ron Weasley’s Tales of Queerdom,’ I’d better cut it out. So anyway, a bunch of unimportant stuff that I wasn’t there for happened, like something with Crouch and a magic eye, and You-Know-Who coming back or something or other. I wasn’t really involved so we’ll glaze over that part. Hermione hugged Harry at the end of the year and that’s about all I remember. I reached out for my hug and Hermione was like, “What’s wrong with your arms?”

Thanks.

Fifth year I actually become even more awesome than I have previously been, because I’m a prefect. Yeah, suck on that, Harry. Harry was like a major dousche fifth year, too- goin’ round being mad at everybody and yelling at us all the time. Hermione was very worried about him, but I was like- ehh, he’ll be fine. It was kinda cool that he saved my dad’s life, but he was kind of the reason my dad needed saving? Sort of? I don’t know it’s all pretty messed up. Let’s get back to me.

This whole time I’m thinking that Hermione and I will definitely do some intense bonding on our prefect rounds together, but she’s all business. And when we did talk, you’ll never guess who it was about. Neville. Yeah, he was raped by a house elf that summer and had a hard time talking about it- NO, YOU IDIOTS, we talked about Prince Harry.

And not the one from Wales.

No matter how hard I tried to steer the conversation in a more romantic direction, it always came back to Harry or ended in an argument. So, you’re not gonna make this easy, are you, Granger?

When the end of the year came, we once again battled You-Know-Who, who would have guessed? But I came out looking like a brainless crackwhore. I mean, those slimy brain things looked really cool in the Department of Mysteries, surely I’m not the only one that thought this. All of a sudden this grimy piece of shit starts to wrap around my neck and starts choking me, sucking the smarts right outta my arse.

Why did this have to happen to me? Sidekick comic-relief guy starts strutting around like a chicken with a brain wrapped around his face. Am I always the butt of the joke? Why couldn’t it be Neville, he’s always good for a pathetic laugh or two. And why the hell was Luna there? Granted, she’s got a pretty good rack and that kept me occupied most of the trip, but her commentary was worth a bullet to the brain. Take me now, You-Know-Who, I can’t handle it anymore.

You know, the only good thing about our totally random midnight rendezvous was Luna. She’s got a smoking bod and a magnificent rack, with crazy silver eyes that’ll give you a stiffy in the morning. It’s just unfortunate that she’s barking mad. Hilarious, but downright weird. I do like the blond, though…Hermione and Lav-Lav are brunettes, and while both attractive- it’s kind of…dull.

I mean, don’t get me wrong, brown hair is hot, but there’s something about that silvery blond…

Anyway, eventually I got better- like smarter again, I guess. Hermione will tell you that she couldn’t tell a difference when I was intellectually impaired, but I know she’s wrong because I couldn’t even tell you the past ten years’ worth of Cannons stats. Now you know something’s not right when that happens.

Sixth year was weird, but crucial nonetheless. I left out a bunch of stuff from the previous year cos quite frankly I can’t remember it, but I think I was in some kind of army and Harry snogged Cho but Hermione was pissed about it and Dumbledore went away for a while and this fat bitch came that looked like a midget penis. And…I dunno what else happened but I don’t think it was important. We met Hagrid’s bigass troll brother, Gump? Grap? Grawp! Grawp? Pork? I dunno, it’s one of those.

If anyone’s gonna have a half-brother giant that looks like a foot, it’s gonna be Hagrid. Can you imagine giving birth to that thing? You know, it’s a good thing Hagrid’s dad was the wizard and not his mum- cos she probably would’ve died during childbirth. And people say I don’t have sympathy. Did you ever wonder how…you know…Hagrid’s mum and dad…did it? Now that’s a shag. Think if his dad was the giant, whoa-ho-ho look out, ladies! Haha

Eeeeeeewww.

Okay, so fifth year, fifth year, GOBLIN TURDS- I was like a total Quidditch star! Yeah, I was a way awesome keeper. I single-handedly won the Cup that year, and they even wrote a song about me. Weasley is our King. How totally badass is that? I had girls swooning over me left and right. Man, I was awesome. I still am, but you know- that just contributed to it. How is it that I’m still single? One of the world’s greatest unsolved mysteries.

I could talk about my Quidditch glories all day long, but I don’t think I have enough parchment. If I find some though, I’m writing a complete play-by-play of everything that happened. Yeah, I remember. I have an awesome memory.

Back to sixth year, well- I guess I never really got to it, but whatever. That year was kind of a blur…Harry found this weird cheater book that was Snape’s and he almost killed Malfoy with it or something…I’m not really sure. I don’t know if he threw the book at his head or Malfoy got a really bad paper cut, but something happened and caused Harry to not be in the Quidditch finals again, so I had to totally save the day (by myself) and win the Cup again. I think Ginny was in it, and then get this she kissed him! So, if Harry and Ginny shack up that will totally leave Hermione to me.

At first I was kind of mad that my best friend and my little sister snogged in a room full of people, but Lav-Lav and I did a hell of a lot worse in public. I’m not really gonna talk about Lavender, cos I think I was high when we dated. She tried to give me some man-bling, and I was like I’m whiter than chalk with a mop of red hair- there’s no way I can pull this off. I’m just not fly enough. Ronnie Weez the white rapper just doesn’t have a good ring to it, but I would secretly love to have that for a career. I definitely have the skillz. I’m just a bit lacking on the style. But don’t get me wrong, I got style.

Why did I shift my focus from Hermione to Lavender? Cos I’m a bloke and Hermione wasn’t putting out. There, I admitted it, let’s move on, shall we? Lavender just got crazy possessive at the end- I’m surprised she didn’t purposely ‘forget’ to do a birth control charm and wind up carrying my baby or something. Yeah, she was that crazy.

But Lav and I split and Harry and Ginny got together, sort of… I dunno it was all weird. They seemed happy, but I didn’t really pay attention cos it didn’t involve me. This time at the end of the year Dumbledore died. Yeah, wild, I know. So, the three of us are thinking, “Now what the fuck are we gonna do?” Then Harry learned about horsecrotches or whorecrutches or something just ridiculously bizarre and now we’ve got to find them. Yeah, THAT’S not going to be hard. Not at all. It’s not like we don’t know exactly what they are or where they’re located or how to destroy them or anything. This is going to be absolute cake.

If the cake was made of evil and bullshit.

And spiders.

Shudder…

Right now I’m sitting in Grimmauld Place in one of the bedrooms, hell if I know whose. I hope it’s not Kreacher’s, I hate that stupid thing. He’s so ugly and he smells like death and asscrack. Mixed with rotting meat and soiled underwear. I’m gonna wretch just thinking about it. At least we don’t need a bell to know when he’s coming, you can just smell him. Why, what is that horrendous odor? I’d rather die than have to breathe that in anymore! Well, it’s Kreacher, our ungrateful slave who looks like a shriveled pea.

I’d kill him in his sleep if I knew Hermione wouldn’t throw a fit. I don’t think Harry would mind. Yesterday was Bill and Fleur’s wedding- that lucky son of a bitch. Merlin, if I could trade places with him for a day we’d shag from dusk till dawn. Not me and Bill, Fleur. NO- NOT BILL. Why do I come off as gay in my writing? Ginny was a bitch through the whole ceremony cos she and Harry had a row or something. Luna showed up and looked pretty fine, only she had a giant sunflower growing out of the side of her head. But whatever.

The best part was Harry having to look like my fatass backwoods hillbilly cousin. I laughed till I nearly pissed myself! What was his name? Beefus? Barnaby? Bumpkin? Haha I dunno. There are literally tears in my eyes right now from thinking about it. After the wedding, some weird crazy shit went down where the minister died and everybody ran like hell. So Harry, Hermione, and I went to London or somewhere and then some bad stuff happened and we ended up here. With Kreacher.

You may be wondering why I’ve given Harry and Hermione such a bad wrap this whole time when they’re supposed to be my best friends, and they still are. I’m just wicked pissed and mad cos I lost. It’s prolly like four in the morning, and a couple hours ago I woke up and looked over to the couch where Hermione is, and I saw her holding hands with Harry in the floor. They’ve both got teeny little smiles on their faces, yeah- even though they’re asleep, and I just can’t compete with that. So, Harry, mate- she’s all yours, man. Good luck controlling that feisty temper. Merlin help you.

So that’s how things really went down, to my recollection, and since I’m probably going to die in the next few months cos we don’t know what the hell we’re doing, I thought I’d leave behind some kick ass memoirs. Ronnie Weez: the chalky-white most badass rapper who ever lived. Please put that on my grave.

Oh, and don’t forget something about how sexy I am, or the fact that I’m a major Quidditch star. You can leave off the dates when I lived and died in order for that to fit. Everyone will just remember those days anyway.

As for the future, I hope I don’t like punk out and leave the ‘golden trio’ because of something stupid, or hide out with Bill and Fleur for a while for no apparent reason. If I live through this, I’m gonna give my kids the coolest fucking names on the planet. All time favorite: HUGO. How badass is that? He sounds like a bloke with not one, but two six packs and can bench press like a million pounds. Awesome.

And if I had a girl, I dunno- I think it’d be cool to have twin girls named Daffy and Daisy- isn’t that adorable? And yes, I did just say adorable. Cos it is. And they’d be hot as hell. I’d have totally sexy daughters that every guy would want to shag. Oh yeah. But if I only had one girl, I’d probably go with Rose. You know, follow Harry’s mum’s lineage with the whole flower thing. Cos that makes total sense.

So, I guess this is it- probably because I ran out of things to talk about and I’m starting to feel a little bit better. It only took, I dunno, four hours or something- but it’s all good. Except now my hand cramps really really badly- I don’t think I’ve ever written this much in my whole life.

And I can guarantee you I never will again. I think I hear somebody downstairs- damn, I hope it’s not Kreacher. I swear I’m going to punch him in the face next time I see him. Even if he asks if he can lick my ass I’m still gonna deck him one. And we’ll just tell Hermione he ran into a door. That seems plausible…

So, farewell whoever reads this holy piece of awesomeness, I hope you decide to publish it for all to read. Maybe they’ll resurrect a statue of me or something someday. That would be bloody brilliant. And I’ve realized just how necessary I really am. With all the stuff I’ve done for the good of wizardkind, there’s no way in hell You-Know-Who is going down without me. I know I’m too modest and humble, but I don’t mind taking credit where it’s due. Maybe I’ll send Luna an owl if I make it back, you know, just to see how she’s doing. Strictly in a friendly manner. To see if she lives, you know. She’ll live. I hope so.

Peace bitches,

Ronnie Weez, badass

A/N: Well, that’s it. No real plot, but whatever. Oh, and I haven’t forgotten about my other story either, I just haven’t really worked out where I want it to go. So, it’s kind of on the back burner. But no worries. I’m looking forward to the reviews to this, I’m sure I will be highly amused.

Cheers,

lilymione1203