Steve's Place "Writings"

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I don't own Harry Potter or any of JK Rowling’s characters nor do I own any of the TV shows, Movies or Books or other Fan Fiction Stories that content could include. I neither earn receive nor expect any money from this writing. I write only for my own amusement and the amusement or entertainment of any who wish to read this.

Part 2:  "Wake Up Call"

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Harry James Potter woke up; opened his eyes but could see nothing but darkness; felt the walls and fabric to his left, right and then above him and then screamed a milk curdling scream that would-could-should-and probably did, wake the dead. (("INSERT VERY ENHANCED, VERY LOUD, MILK CURDLING SCREAMING, RIGHT HERE!"))

"What the... where the... what is this; where am I; am I dead; was I dead; should I be dead?"

These were Harry James Potter's first words as he came back to life inside a box, no, it was a coffin buried in the ground and it was dark, damp and cold and Harry was most confused as he could also hear in his minds ear what sounded like another damn prophecy or a really, really, really, really, really bad limerick or jingle. Then he heard the words of that melt through his thoughts.

"The 'Magic-Of-the-Boy's-Infinite-Light.' ((or just call me MOBIL))

Will spring from the dead amidst a world of darkness and night.

Gifted with the 'Power of the Maker'.

Immortal, Invulnerable and Vengeance driven to serve the light,

will propel this 'Magic-Boy-Of-Light' into the very heart of darkness and blight.

But the Magic-Boy-Of-Light can never die and must endure his gift, until time will suspend.

But the Maker will have moments of happiness in that time, until futures end.

The 'Magic-Of-the-Boy's-Infinite-Light' is the 'Maker-Of-All-That-Is-Right.'"

"What the hell was that?" Harry screamed out as he clawed at the inside of his coffin in a state of panic. "I want out! Let me out!" Harry screamed out again and then found himself oddly dressed but sitting on his bare bum on the ground above his coffin starring at his grave stone that read...

Here Lay

Harry James Potter

Son of Lily Evans Potter and James Harold Potter.

Born July 31, 1980

Died peacefully in his sleep on

July 7, 1996. at 3:07am in Little Whinging, Surrey.

Known as 'Defeater of the Dark Lord.'

And Ironically, 'The-Boy-Who-Lived.'

Rest In Peace Young Harry.

May The Maker Help Us All.

Harry stared at this grave stone for a few more minutes in utter shock asking himself what the last thing was, he could remember. At the same moment remembering he was wearing burial robes and that was why he was a bit drafty in the bum and back. He shook his head wishing he had some cloths on and at that very instant as though Magic had heard his wish, found himself clothed in black jeans, black soft soled high top boots and socks, a black shirt, black pull over jumper and a black knee length leather or was it Dragon hide coat and found himself, not cold any more.

He stared at the Grave stone again and re-asked himself what he could remember. Then it hit him like the Acme Anvil dropped on his head. He had killed Tommy boy Riddle with his wand shoved in his eye, or, was that a dream and then remembered a loud 'BANG' and was sure he just got shot by a Muggle gun right in the head, between the eyes. But was that also a dream; was it all a dream; am I dreaming now and he pinched himself hard but didn't feel pain, but he thought he must be awake. Then he remembered that new Prophecy or that really, really, really bad limerick or jingle or whatever the hell it was and sighed, shaking his head and asked at the stars. "What the hell did you do to me; what in the seven Hells of Voldemort is going on here?"

As he walked towards the entrance of the grave yard he read the sign formed in an iron arch above two entrance stone pillars, that read "Godrics Hollow Cemetery."

"I wonder what the date and time is." Harry muttered and as though he had performed a tempest spell the words formed in front of him. . . "July 31, 1996; 3:07am." “That means the previously dead “ME” had just awakened as I turned 16 years old.”
 

Then Harry started to put all the pieces together; the Magic he was doing was not Magic at all but just plain POWER. That infinitely really bad limerick, jingle or Prophecy had stated; Gifted with the 'Power of the Maker'. Immortal, Invulnerable and Vengeance driven to serve the light.

"What does that mean?" Harry asked no one in particular. Then he answered his own question with.

"It means I have been gifted with the power of the maker. But who or what is the Maker?" Harry asked no one again. Then Harry answered the second question he kept asking no one in particular.

"It means the maker of anything and everything; you stupid kid?" "Don't call me kid! I'm 16 years old and I'm just; very, very, very, very confused!" Harry yelled at his inner voice.

Immortal, Invulnerable and Vengeance driven to serve the light.

“What the hell does that mean?” “You really are a stupid kid if you can’t understand what that means! I suggest you slap yourself a few times to see if you can get your 3 brain cells to work again!” “Enough!” Screamed Harry at himself and did just what he suggested to himself and slapped himself several times.

Shaking his head at his increasing insanity he finally got the main pieces of this thing put together and verbalized them so each of his three remaining brain cells could process this and he could hear himself say it out loud.

“Gifted with the 'Power of the Maker'. Immortal, Invulnerable and Vengeance driven to serve the light.”

“Gifted with the 'Power of the Maker'. Immortal, Invulnerable and Vengeance driven to serve the light.”

“Gifted with the 'Power of the Maker'. Immortal, Invulnerable and Vengeance driven to serve the light.”

After the third time saying it aloud, it finally sunk in to his tiny but powerful, immortal, invulnerable brain.

“I have the Power of a God, am I God, am I a God, am I the God? NO, NO, NO, that can’t be right. No one in their right mind would give me that kind of power. I could destroy everything with a thought if I’m not very, very careful! But wait, Gifted with the power of the maker, not the un-maker. Does that mean I can create but not destroy? Bugger, this is all so confusing!”

“I wish I was not confused about all this.”

And as though the power had heard him, it seem to enter the data into his brain and literally un-confused him.

“I understand, I understand now what to do, what it all means.” Harry excitedly yelled out.

“I have the power to change everything for the better to bring the light back into this troubled world. To correct all the wrong that runs rampant in the world. To make this world a paradise, a utopia, the wish and dream of all sane people everywhere. But what will be the cost? There is always a price to pay for everything and for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Ahh; the price is immortality for me, to live to see the end of time itself. That is a very big price to pay if one can never die only to live on while all the people I know, grow old and die leaving me behind just as I am now. I fear after a few hundred years I will long for death to take me. How long could it possibly take to clean the world of darkness?”

Harry was muttering all this out loud as he realized it could take even a God till the end of time to correct all the wrong in the world.

As Harry left the cemetery while muttering all this, he was bushwhacked by some seven teenage gang thugs out looking for trouble. What they didn’t know was they had just found a very big pile of trouble in one Harry James Potter, soon to be re-name and known as “MOBIL”. Just call me MOBIL would become his calling card.

Harry just smiled at the thugs and said to his inner self. “I know all of Bruce Lee’s moves.”

Surrounded by the gang, one of them produced a knife and actually stabbed Harry in the hand and Harry and the thugs just watched as the wound closed over with a kind of Instant Tissue Regeneration. Then Harry went into Bruce Lee mode and in less than 10 seconds all seven of the gang were sprawled out in a 5 meter radius.

Harry, just standing there in the middle of the unconscious youths before him, just waved his hand in a circle and altered their behavior to serve the light and public good, from now on, then awakened all of them.

He had produced seven business like cards from an inner pocket with the name “MOBIL” embossed on the cards and gave each one a card telling them if they ever needed him to come to their aid or if they thought MOBIL should know about something that was bad happening to them or someone they knew or something they saw, that they were to simply hold their thumb over his name “MOBIL” and say what the problem was and where to meet them. Harry had created a memory wall so they could never speak about MOBIL to anyone, even each other and then further altered their behavior to also have some of the moves of Bruce Lee to do good with and then telling them they were to be known as the “MOBIL GROUP” and then sent them on their way.

Harry now had seven disciples to act as eyes and ears out in the British public to aid his quest and report to him any dark doings. He could call them if the need be, by listening to his inner voice and thinking the name that voice gave him.

Harry continued to walk down the street but immediately decided he needed to be un-seen or invisible and he also had to alter his appearance so he did not look like Harry Potter as he intended to leave Harry James Potter dead and buried, for now anyway.

He took on the appearance of a man in his late twenties relatively normal looking in every way except for his all black clothing. He was not going to change the color as he really liked the black look with the white under that look. It would confuse people and Harry decided he liked to confuse people. After all, he had just spent a bit of time being the most confused person to ever walk the planet.

He needed to experiment with this power to see what, if any limitations there were. So he decided he wanted to be in front of number four Privet Drive and in an instant found himself right where he wanted to be.

“What to do, what to do?” Harry muttered aloud as he looked on at his old, so called home. He looked beyond and through the house, from his standing position on the front sidewalk. Spotting the Dursley’s in bed and all apparently sleeping he waved his hand in front of him in the direction of the house and altered the minds of the occupants to also serve the light and public good and their behavior into tolerant upstanding Muggles. They would never know what hit them.

Satisfied that the Dursley’s would be kind people, good, upstanding, tolerant none bullying and none bigoted he also waved at the air converting the bitch sister of Vernon, as well.

He began to wonder why he was being so nice but realized it was that new prophecy directing his actions to the light.
 

“Bugger!” He said, if anyone deserves some retribution it sure as hell is the Dursley’s. Oh well, I mustn’t think that way.” Harry muttered as though he was having a conversation with his other self.

“What next?” He asked no one again.
 

“Well, I need some place to live and stood there for quite awhile thinking about a place to live then found himself on an invisible cloud, looking down. Behind him was a castle in the sky all white and glistening like polished white marble, no, it was polished white marble. Well I’ll be. That’s one hell of a nice looking place to live.” Harry muttered, quite loud, actually.

Harry walked up a path that formed in front of him as he walked, and then entered his new residence. This place was about half or slightly smaller than Hogwarts he thought as he entered through large, polished white marble, double doors.

It was at that very moment that Harry James Potter, aka MOBIL, just had a very terrible thought as he repeated what he had said earlier. “For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction!”

“Does that mean that there is a dark presence out there just the opposite, with Dark God powers now?”

“OH, BUGGER, BUGGER, BUGGER, I really, really, really, really, really, really need to wake up now before this nightmare gets any worse!”
 

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“DANIEL. . . DANIEL. . . WAKE UP! ...“SLAP”... WAKE UP!”

“You’re having a really, really, really, really bad dream or yet another, Potter induced nightmare; again! WAKE UP NOW!”
 

“That’s it Daniel you’re not reading any more of that crazy Harry-Potter-Fan-Fiction. You've been screaming your head off for 10 minutes now and you’re soaked from sweating. Go and take a shower and I'll take you for your appointment with your therapist, Doctor Dumbridge, in 15 minutes.

"But Dad, I think I'm the lead part in seven stage plays!" A groggy, trembling, sweating and disturbed young Daniel said.

"That's fine, you can play the parts, but you’re not reading that damn Harry-Potter-Fan-Fiction any longer, do you hear me?"

“Yes, I bloody well hear you! Stop yelling at me!” Yelled Daniel, as he stumbled for the shower, while rubbing his Harry-Potter-Fan-Fiction-Induced, throbbing, nightmare, head ache and then muttered again. "DUMmm. . . UMmm. . . DUMmm. . . brid. . . dge. . . DOCTOR WHAT. . .!  DOCTOR WHO. . .!"

(INSERT MORE VERY LOUD; BUTTER-MILK CURDLING THIS TIME; DUMBRIDGE INDUCED SCREAMING)

"YIKES! Am I still in this bloody nightmare?" . . . "SLAP". . . !
 

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And that’s all there was to it.

Daniel was grounded and cut off from his beloved, Harry-Potter-Fan-Fiction-Stories.

Would Daniel be able to survive without them? Or, great Merlin, could he still be dreaming? No one knows.
 

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The end

Or, will there be more, Harry Potter induced nightmares to report on, in the future?
 

Who knows?

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A/N: One of the really, really, really nice things about dreams or nightmares, is that absolutely anything can happen and yet be very realistic to the dreamer, and/or even the reader.

No one not even a nightmare dreamer should be able to complain that the dreamer wouldn't do that or that is so out of character for the Characters/Actors/Players.

Cheers from

Steve
 

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Epilogue

Part 3:  "Seven is the Magic Number"

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As the young 16 year old player, Daniel, sat in the very pink, Dr. Doris Jean Dumbridge's, therapy office, and waited for Dr. Dumbridge to enter. Daniel pulled out his wallet and removed a piece of identification that said his name was. . .

"Daniel, James, Jacob, Larry, Darry, Harry, Barry, ‘Mobil-PaddCliffington’ the 7th;”

. . . was apparently the 7th son, of a 7th son, and he seem to know this was significant in some forgotten way, but couldn't quite wrap his absent wand, around that memory, then shrugged, blinked several times and shook his head in dismay, and then muttered again.

"Bugger; that even puts the ever twinkling, candy soaked, and psychedelic pajama clad, Double-Dork to shame, if that really is my name? I do appear to be awake, but, if I am awake, that name and this flushing pink office are certified nightmares, each on their own!"

And then he continued his muttering whisper with. "Bloody Hell, I need several aspirins if I have to sit through this detention in this blushing, pink, nightmare for an hour, much less talk to that sickly sweet, pink toady Doctor, that can't seem to expand her color platter, beyond pink!"

With so many names it was no wonder he didn't know exactly who he was anymore. On top of that he had a Player’s Guild, identification card that read . . .

Introducing . . . "Darry JJ Rockcliff” . . . from Europeans Prestigious and most specialized, Players studios, and a highly ranked member of the “World Wide Players Guild.”

It would also seem, he was being treated for extensive Harry-Potter-Fan-Fiction-Addiction or (H.P.F.F.A). ---- As he pulled out from another pocket in his black leather, knee length coat, a previous prescription bottle for something called. . .

"Multi-Pal, Personaskit-sagetonelif" 10mg.  

(A/N: You may want to put that into a [text2speech engine] to hear it pronounced properly. This is as close as I can get it, the old fashioned way.) . . .

Multi-Pal, (Personaskit-sag-e'tone-alif)

'Take one tablet every 2 hours and before bedtime. Follow all directions and warnings ‘exactly.’

WARNING: Do not eat or drink any of the following within 3 HOURS of taking this medication: NO Alcohol, NO Fruit Juice, NO Milk, NO Cola, NO Tea or Coffee, NO Hot or Cold Chocolate Milk, NO Candy Bars, NO Crisps or Chips, NO Poopcorn, NO Meat, NO Potatoes, NO Eggs, NO Buttered Toast, Definitely NO Peanut Butter, Peanuts or any nuts for that matter, NO PIZZA or Pasta in general, NO Fast Foods like that served by MacDaniels or Bugger King, etc., NO Chinese Foods with the one exception, Dry Fortune Cookies fresh in the last 15 minutes, 3 maximum in 24 hours, fortunes not necessarily included, Obtained only from Ying & Yang’s in San Francisco, or 4 Fortune Cookies from Wing & Wang’s in China. And definitely NO Egg Rolls Period. And lastly and above all other warnings, NO PASSING GAS as this could have highly explosive potential, even without a flame.

YOU MAY: Drink 1 glass only of distilled water every 8 hours after 30 minutes pre-boiling and then cooled to 32.5deg Fh or .06deg C for 30 minutes while keeping it wrapped in tinfoil. YOU MAY eat, 1 slice of DRY toast only, recommend lightly toasted, not burnt and 1, that's, ONE, Red only, Chilly Pepper in 12 hours, dry, no chaser of any kind!

Take medication EXACTLY as prescribed and obey ALL WARNINGS for 10 days and then call you’re Doctor, or . . . in the most unlikely event, any one of these side effects should occur.

SIDE EFFECTS MAY INCLUDE: Pain in multiple Places, times and intensities, Rash of any kind, anywhere, Excessive Sweating, Rapid Blinking, Muttering, Pinching one's self, Sudden Screaming, Biting Lower Lip, Facial Twitching, Tossing and Turning in the sleep cycle, Itchy Buttocks, Passing Obscene Gas, Bleeding from the left eye and right nostril at the same time, Hungry, Thirsty, Constipation, Diarrhea, Sudden Mood Changes, Violent Behavior, Delusions, Dreams or Nightmares, Signs of Memory Loss, Excessive-Compulsive Behavior, Multi-Personality-Disorder Symptoms or anything else not quite normal for the patient.

Apparently, this is a rather nasty, and very, very, serious addiction, that had first been diagnosed in several European teens over the past few years, and seemed to be spreading all over the planet like a bad Computer Virus. It had recently spread to, and infected several adults, as well. (Apparently, including this writer)

Harry, Larry, Barry, Darry, Daniel or whoever the hell he was, had been going through serious (or was that Sirius) (H.P.F.F.A) withdrawal since his parents had grounded him from reading his beloved Fan-Fiction stories, just a week ago. But Larry, Darry, Barry, Harry, Daniel had managed to sneak into his computer several times to get his fix, and had several, subsequent nightmares, as a result. Were they nightmares? Or, maybe they were Medication Induced, Delusion-O’Ramas? Also-Known-As (M.I.D.O'Rs), seems a likely possibility?

Daniel, Harry, Darry, Larry, Barry, just didn't know what was real anymore. What seemed to be very real, appeared to be a nightmare and what seemed to be a nightmare, appeared to be very real?

To top all that off, he had been prescribed medication that had the singularly, most Riddikulus set of instructions, warnings and side effects, accompanying it, that anyone could have dreamed up, even including, what seemed to be, spelling errors, that only added to his ever increasingly, increasing, confusion, and come to think of it, hunger and thirst as well; and then there was this nightmare Doctor Pink Toady, to deal with. He really wished he was back in the clouds, or would settle for any dream or was any of it a dream? Or just about anywhere, other than here, in this cotton candy detention.

At that moment, Daniel, Darry, Harry, Larry, Barry also asked himself who he would choose to be, if he could make that choice. Then the pink toady Doctor entered the room and the room seemed to get even pinker, if that was possible. It was probably due to the three pieces, pink-pant-suit and the pink, Doctors’ lab coat; she was wearing with a pink ribbon in her reddish black hair. This was where the phrase "EYE-SOAR", took on its true meaning.

“This can’t be real, this has to be dreaming, no, no, not a dream, this was a Category 5, Richter Scale 10, Triple A; Stamped then Chiseled in Stone; Certified Nightmare! This is even worse than the last nightmare, if that was a nightmare?” Harry, Darry, Larry, Barry, Daniel, muttered, just a little too loudly and blinked several times, very quickly, in an effort to try and clear his blinding pink vision, and the facial twitch that had developed since he walked in this room and the number of names someone had managed to register, as all belonging to one person, apparently him.

“Ahem. . . Ahem. . . Darry. . . why are you pinching yourself, you’re leaving nasty red lines on the back of your left hand. I admit they are very pretty, but doesn’t that hurt you? Ahem, if you don’t stop doing that I will have to give you another blood sedative, to quill your destructive behavior.”

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Then Harry seemed to wake up, yet again, and found himself in front of his, polished white Marble, home in the clouds, looking at a sign that read. . .

“I’ll take this over the pink toady Doctor, any day.” Muttered, Larry, Harry, Darry, Barry, Daniel, MOBIL, he still could not be sure who he was, or if he was awake or dreaming, yet again, as he blinked several more times and then shook his head, to get that last very pink image, clearly, out of his mind.

And then he yelled rather loudly. “Please, please, for the love of Magic, no more rhymes, or I’m surely going to lose, all of my minds!”

Then he seemed to will a table in front of him and proceeded to bang his head several times on the top of this suddenly appearing table.

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(Sirens screaming in the background, getting louder now.) (Loud thumping sounds connected to his head.) (Rattling and Shuffling Sounds.) (Pain on the back of his left hand.) (Then Muttered, Broken Up, Whispering.)

"Dr. Dum . . . . . . . ,  . . . .  happened?"

"H. . passed . . .  I think  . .  had gone . .  . .  .  coma  . .  . . .  minutes ago.   . . kept yel. . .g, NO,  . .O, NO,  . .is  C. .n't  . . .  Hap. . ning!  I want . . .t!  Let me ou . .!"

Dr. Dumbridge said as she tried to catch her breath after running for help. Then she continued and the muttering seemed clearer for some reason.

As Harry, Larry, Darry, Barry and Daniel was lifted onto a medical gurney, after he had fallen into a deep coma caused by (H.P.F.F.A) or the equivalent, addiction withdrawal symptoms of Dehydration, Malnutrition, Extreme Sleep Disorder, and other Multiple Medication Side Effects and Schizophrenia, he heard her say.

". . . and then he muttered some poetry . . . ahem, ahem . . . oh dear, what was it he said now? Oh yes, it was . . .”

"Ahem, ahem . . . yes, yes, that was it." Dr. Dumbridge stated in a matter of fact, sickly, sweet tone.

-----

Darry, Harry, Larry and Barry was transported by ambulance to a newly built medical center for the study of (H.P.F.F.A) and its treatment medications, multiple side effects, and severe (H.P.F.F.A) withdrawal Symptomatology.

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Aug 7, 1996: 11:59pm GMT

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. . . lay in a deep coma in the  K. R. J. Paddfootington, coma wing of the Elmer Fudge-Skeater-Dumbridge, Addiction Research Foundation; Center for the cure, located in the quiet, retirement quarter, of Maidenhead. Just around that corner and beyond that tunnel, over there.  (The Author pointed off into the distance for the benefit of that same, no one in particular, or everyone in general, who just might happen to be listening, watching or even reading.)

Or known by his fans as . . . "Darry JJ Rockcliff"; was also known only as “MOBIL” in his new permanent residence of cloud nine.” He had made his mid-night decision just as Big Ken, could be heard in the distance, chiming for the 7th time.

“So, you can just call me, “MOBIL MIDO'Rs."

”As I’m paddling here, without any ores.”

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Is it any wonder at all, that this young lead player, "Darry JJ Rockcliff", of the  "Humpty Dumpty Chronicles";

A series of 7 stage plays;  Actually, fell off his wall?

Was it his (H.P.F.F.A) or the withdrawal symptoms, or was it the medications, side effect, (M.I.D.O'Rs) to treat this condition?

Or, could it even be the stress of being a lead player in the "Humpty Dumpty Chronicles!"

A series of 7 stage plays, no less.

No one knows for sure but, my best guess would be, all of the above.. (Hiccup)..

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PS. . . to the above mentioned. . .

"Daniel, James, Jacob, Larry, Darry, Harry, Barry, ‘Mobil-PaddCliffington’ the 7th;

. . . or whoever you might be. . . or how many of you, there are. . .

As I haven't even got a single Knut anyway.

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And just incase no one remembers Humpty Dumpty. . .

Couldn't put Humpty Dumpty, Back together again.

Because

The Acme Anvil fell; out of the sky.

Hitting this plot bunny, right in the eye.

And then it was over; quick like a fly.

As this little plot bunny, laid down to die.

And Because

I hate rhymes and I need to take my medication;

"Multi-Pal, Personaskit-sagetonelif" 20mg

For the new Adult Syndrome. Or (AS-H.P.F.F.A)

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Ok then, one final little Special Authors note: 

This little ditty, had a specific design;

To make the reader laugh, at least one time. 

If you found no humor, and your understanding seems fine;

You are now free to leave, the scene of this crime. 

If, on the other hand you managed even a smile;

I hope you will post comments, for me to compile. 

(Oh dear. . . Ok, Rhyme Time is over.)

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Ending Note:

When I wrote this little, bitty, ditty.  I had no idea there was a medical condition called "Humpty Dumpty Syndrome"; nor, did I know of, or could have imagined in my own craziest dreams, nightmares or Potter induced imaginings that someone would actually write a play, book or movie, called "The Humpty Dumpty Chronicles"? 

I have to wonder now, if there really is a diagnosed "Harry-Potter-Fan-Fiction-Addiction-Syndrome", or a medication called "Multi-Pal, Personaskit-sagetonelif" ((note - *Multi-Pal, Persona-skitsa-get-one-lif* )) Pronounced. . . (Multi-Pal, Personaskit-sag-e'tone-alif) and the accompanied set of insane Directions, Instructions, Do's & Do Nots and the side effect warnings, that go with this invented medication; and then there's the now, seemingly, even more possible,  Parallel/Alternate Universe, to consider?

 EEE Gads; could there be a real "Daniel, James, Jacob, Larry, Darry, Harry, Barry, ‘Mobil-PaddCliffington’ the 7th; in any universe?  Honestly,  I made all this stuff up, on the fly. My little story is meant to parody, no one in particular and everyone in general. Any similarity to any individual real life Events, People, Medical condition or Medications etc.; is nothing more than a very, very strange coincidence.

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Cheers

Steve --> (Someone's Bad Dream)

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