Ill-Advised Trip
It was right before they left for the train when Dumbledore approached them.
After being de-petrified, the old man was verbally harassed by his staff and he decided he needed a vacation.
Harry was just standing on the platform with his two cling-ons when he heard his name be called out. He turned around, only to be faced with an old man clad in bright purple hiking gear, hello kitty boots and all.
A thick backpack was slung over his shoulder, a long walking stick was in his right hand, and sunglasses were falling down his face.
“Sir…?”
Tinky Winky stood there determined and ready to brace the wilds.
“You didn’t forget, did you?”
Harry wracks his brain for what this could possible be about.
“No…”
He looks to Hedwig for help.
Hedwig sends him a mental image of Snape with his usual dour expression dancing around the great hall in a pink tutu shoved under his favorite black robe, his horse legs flying up and down and his arms held high.
The scene abruptly slows and Snape has a close-up shot that seems straight out of an anime.
His hair flutters briefly with the twirls, specks of grease hitting unknowing students.
With a grace only he could possess, he glided across the floor, his feet barely touching the ground. A hardcore metal song plays in the background.
Harry looks at her with a vacant expression, trying to process what he just saw.
Oh, she projected the wrong image.
She then sent him a mental image of Dumbledore from months ago in his office, claiming he wants to go camping. Harry was a little distracted committing manslaughter and avoiding death again, so she’ll forgive his memory this one time.
Harry’s eyes light up.
“That’s right, I almost forgot. Are you joining us on the train, sir?”
The purple teletubby shakes his head.
“Oh no, no. We aren’t boarding the train, Harry.”
“We?”
Harry shrugged with his lack of survival skills and turned back to wave bye to Ron and Hermione, who never knew how to react towards him anymore.
After many antics, the two are numb and don’t bother trying to reason with him.
The passing students watch confusedly as Harry, his accessories, and a resplendent Dumbledore stroll away.
Dobby stares threateningly at everyone who stares for too long.
He took to being the school’s Basilisk slayer a little too much, for he puffs out his chest like some sort of street tough.
“Dobby, please stop scaring my year mates.”
“Dobby is too good for their looks, Dobby’s a gangbanger!”
…
It appears that Dobby may have misunderstood the meaning of a particular phrase.
No one bothers to correct him though.
(This will have lasting consequences.)
Dumbledore brings them to the Forbidden Forest.
Whether or not they should be camping in such a dangerous forest remains to be seen. However, they have Dumbledore to look out for them, so they should be just fine.
—
Despite Dumbledore’s good intentions, the Forbidden Forest is not exactly a good place to camp.
As the night goes on, Harry becomes more and more aware of the danger they’re in.
Unfortunately for Harry, none of his companions are sane.
When they hear a loud sound in the distance, Dobby gets into a gorilla stance and prepares to charge.
Dumbledore laughs and Hedwig just sits on the branch above, the advantage and safety point.
Getting chased away by a horde of acromantulas on the first night didn’t leave a good impression.
As it turns out, these creatures are not slow at all.
The group runs away, every man for himself.
They ran like morons on crack, frantically dodging spiderwebs and jumping over fallen tree trunks trying to outrun the living nightmare. The spider’s click-clacking legs were catching up.
They drooled a black fluid that oozed from their mouth openings. Harry’s mind was full of images of the liquid seeping into his bloodstream via fang.
He could have sworn that the teachers said they were just poisonous, not venomous too.
(Whenever Harry closed his eyes, he would envision a horrifying future in which his body would mysteriously go missing. Maybe Hedwig would fly off with his remains to conduct scientific experiments, or perhaps Dobby's obsession might get the best of him, leading him to tear the body apart and study each piece in order to determine the secrets of his beloved Harry Potter.
Regardless of who was responsible for this potential travesty, he was not prepared to have his body violated in such a way.
Harry wanted to live.)
They stumbled over their own feet and tripped all over the place.
Hedwig wonders what will happen if she eats one.
“Dobby can fix this!”
Dobby screams out that proclamation in the manner of a WWE wrestler, ripping off his dead man shirt and stopping in his tracks.
The rest, unwilling to let Dobby get himself killed, turn around and prepare to fight.
Harry’s first instinct is to spew every spell he knows without forethought.
Sadly, this results in another forest fire.
Dobby uses too much magic and floods the area with a soap bubble charm used for washing dishes.
As Hedwig gets hit with this yet again, she’s reminded of the time they first met and immediately becomes angry.
She fires off a blast of pure magical energy and sends Dobby flying off course, a small dot swirling through the air.
This also causes the flames to spread.
Dumbledore, seeing that the spiders were burnt to a crisp, hurries to water the trees.
Now that everything is okay again, Hedwig, unable to control her child-like urge any longer, takes a bite of the acromantula.
“You know that’s poisonous… right?”
Harry stares at Hedwig, defeated.
Hedwig immediately flops over, Philosphers Stone working overtime.
—
It’s only been a couple of weeks, yet they all look pounds lighter.
No one was too fond of Dobby’s unique cooking.
(He swore he could make the spiders non poisonous.)
All the commotion they’ve been causing was bound to attract attention.
They’re in the midst of spell practice when a stray centaur shows.
They leave the worst impression imaginable.
Harry finally lost his patience with Dobby, mid-strangle when Hedwig decides now is a good time to practice specific spell work instead of blasting.
She meant to aim at the old fool because she knew he could take whatever she threw at him.
Instead of hitting the correct target, the centaur behind the bush starts lifting and lifting and lifting.
Dumbledore is quick to realize that he should diffuse the situation, using his wand to try and bring the centaur down.
It’s a battle between Hedwig’s wild magic and Dumbledore’s willpower.
Up. Down. Up. To the left. Down. Up. Down.
The centaur dangles upside down like a piece of meat on a hook, his fury echoing through the forest.
This attracts a group of more centaurs, who mistake this as an intentional attack, a sign of war.
Dumbledore lifts up his hands as everyone in the group tries to explain what happened all at once.
They aren’t convinced.
Their current leader, a fierce-looking centaur, started to yell and brandish his spear.
All of a sudden, thirty more pop up from behind the bushes and trees with arrows aimed at them.
Dobby the gangster hid behind Harry.
In a stroke of sheer stupidity, Harry stepped forward with Dumbledore trying to explain, raising the stick he was holding and waving it around to gather their attention.
Before anyone could stop them, the centaurs attacked.
In an utter mess of limbs and incompetence, they fled.
Dumbledore held a shield spell while they all made a break for it.
Every time their hooves hit the ground, it seemed to quake the earth. It’s as if a huge boulder is rolling downhill, gaining speed and momentum with every passing moment.
They were going be turned into paste.
Dumbledore had to make a grab for Dobby, who went down face first. He swung the little elf’s body wildly through the air, dangling him by the scruff.
Maybe they could pass Dobby off as an ugly big hairless cat in the muggle world.
Harry would have rather dealt with trolls who wanted to take his group and use them as ammunition for a game of rock throwing. At least Hedwig would’ve had fun.
The centaurs outnumbered them by at least seventy to four.
If the group were to attack the centaurs, it could spark a real war between humans and the beasts.
They started to mock the group as they chased them out of their forest, shooting arrows towards their feet and verbally harassing them with their weird mystical language.
All that could be heard was really weird insults being thrown at them.
“Your path has not been touched by the stars, they have avoided you like the plague!”
"If the gods above ever decide to bestow another brain cell upon that vacant shell that you call a head, be wary!”
"You have the spiritual depth of a puddle. Even the smallest insect has more wisdom than you. Leo itself speaks through me!”
Once they reach a certain distance, Dumbledore stops, huffing all the while.
Looking back, this must be the line where the magical forest ends.
The centaurs can be seen on the edge of the tree line, their eyes locked in.
Their eyes don’t blink or waver.
How eerie.
Why does every camping trip of theirs end up badly?
—
They joined a cult.
It was Dumbledore’s fault, really.
Wandering through the woods close to muggle civilization was never a good idea.
They were walking through the forest when they stumbled upon suspicious looking people in dark robes and masks.
They were surrounding some strange statue in burning pit.
Their bodies were bent low and their heads bowed even lower, until they seemed one with the ground. They remained in this position for a few moments, then slowly rose back up, their voices quiet.
Dumbledore looked at them and thought, “Hm, yes, I will ask these muggles for directions. Sounds good.”
Upon approaching them, they startled.
It seems even the cult members wondered why the old man approached cult members.
“Excuse me! I find myself rather lost and in need of direction. Might you all help out an old man and his companions?”
They looked at each other under their little eye holes.
“Directions?”
They shuffled closer to him.
“Uh… sir… I don’t think-“
“-What kind people! And what unique fashion! I’s this the newest muggle trend?”
The guy they pushed forward stares the old man down, unique hiking gear and all.
“You seem like a very intelligent individual. It’s a bit hot outside, so why don’t I lead you back to my shelter for a little while to cool off before you head onwards?”
Dumbledore claps his hands as Harry and Hedwig can’t believe what they’re seeing.
Dobby seems a little too interested, but his opinions matter not. Look at him.
Dumbledore makes them follow the creepy cultists.
The cultists lead them deeper and deeper into the woods, where the foliage grows thicker and darker. The trees grow tighter together, creating a nearly impenetrable canopy overhead.
They’re led to a creepy brown compound.
“Sir, I really don’t think this is a good idea.”
“Nonsense Harry, we’ll be in and out.”
—
They were not in and out.
Dumbledore accepted their offer to stay and have a cool place to sleep for a night.
And another night. And another.
Before you knew it, Dobby was kneeling at the altar of the cults god, pledging his devotion to their cause.
It all started when Dobby mentioned he was a well known gangbanger.
When he used that term casually in a conversation, they immediately recognized the potential of this strange small hairy midget and began their indoctrination process.
And Dumbledore had always been a very open-minded person, this time not being any different.
When the cult's leader presented him with a set of their distinctive clothing, he was intrigued. To his untrained eyes, the clothing just looked like a unique fashion statement.
He had no idea that it was actually a ceremonial robe given only to the most devoted members of the cult.
Nevertheless, he wore it without protest, openly embracing the cult's apparel as if it were a stylish new muggle fashion trend.
Harry was still at a loss for words.
Little did everyone know, Hedwig egged this on.
She found it funny, you see, so she nudged a little bit here and there.
Now here they all stood, each wearing the symbol of the cult in one way or another.
It was just like any other recent night, the cult gathered around their fire pit and statue of their mysterious leader.
They chanted in unison, praising their cult god and asking for guidance in all things.
In the crowd stood Harry, Dobby, and Dumbledore, who had all succumbed to the cult's influence and were there to participate in the ceremony.
The group was as mysterious as ever, each member chanting as loudly as they could, hoping to gain the attention of their leader.
Harry could hardly believe how this situation had gotten so out of control.
(Hedwig was up in the tree laughing to herself.)
Just as everyone was completely lost in the midst of the ceremony, a little “wind” made Dobby stumble out of line, knocking over one of the hundreds of candles placed around the statue.
This act of clumsiness triggered a chain reaction that caused complete havoc to spread throughout the crowd.
The flames began to spread as they quickly jumped from candle to candle, soon engulfing the statue and lighting up the surrounding area.
People ran in every direction to find safety from the fire. The ceremony had been disrupted, and it seemed the whole ritual had gone up in flames.
One short member ran directly into Harry, knocking his mask off. With the lessons from Dumbledore still on the front of his mind, Harry lets out a mean right hook, knocking the man out.
In a split second, it was as though the the floodgates had been opened, and a full-fledged brawl broke out amongst the cult members.
The members grabbed whatever was at their disposal. Candles vibrated off of skulls. Chairs became shirts.
The fight did not stop once they hit the ground. Others were pulling each other into piles of arms and legs, creating one big writhing ball of human limbs.
It created a fascinating shape, like a giant ball of yarn developing a mind of its own.
Someone insulted Dumbledore’s hello kitty boots.
The brawl became so huge that it was difficult to figure out who was fighting whom.
Oh, yup, there go the soap bubbles.
Thanks Dobby.
Unbeknownst to all, a big black dog was watching this at a safe, very distant distance.