Nothing happens in this chapter. Nothing that really moves the story forward. Or.does it? No, it doesn't. By the way, it's really short.

Sorry for the long delay! You asked for it. Bet you wish you hadn't!

By the way, I would like to apologize for earlier comments about Richard Harris' performance in the film, saying he "sounded like he was about to die at any minute". Well, imagine my horror when Harris actually did die not long after the second film was made. He sure got me there! That's taking acting to a whole new level, no? I guess since I thought Rickman said his lines like a drug addled freak that after the filming of this movie he'll actually become a drug addled freak. And by the way, didn't the second movie suck? Memo to Chris Columbus: lay of the action sequences, buddy. And the giant spiders. For the love of God, lay of the giant spider brigade, okay? You had waaay too much spider action in that film.

Also, when I uploaded this chapter onto the site, the spacing got all screwed up.  I have no idea why that happened.  Hopefully, this is a fixed version of that chapter.

"Ach, this is it, Harry. No turning back, my wee apple blossom. This is it. There are only two ways to go about this Harry: win or lose. I'm talking to ALL of you wee ones. But mostlay Harry. Because he always manages to win it for us. Always. Actually, there is NO POINT in us being on this team. We could just send wee Harry out there, watch him catch the snitch, and have a partay. Get some corned loaf, a bucket of butterbeer, and get all down 'n funky. But instead, we're going to go out there. All of us. Because there is no "I" in team. And by the way, "team" is "meat" backwards. Coinsidence? I think not. So let's go out there, and HAM IT UP. It's go time, meh wee lads."

"Oliver, the game isn't for another six hours," Percy Weasly groaned. "And I find it increasingly difficult to study with your constant prattle."

Oliver punched Percy in the stomach.

"I'm TRYING to rehearse my speech for my team! 'Da want us to win, Percy, do yah??"

".I can't breathe."

"I'll take that as a yes, young lad. Yah got to understand that my pep talks pep the team up. They inspire them, dig?"

And quite suddenly, Oliver Wood stopped talking in a thickly stereotyped Scottish accent and began talking like Frank Sinatra circa 1960. Why? It's exceedingly difficult to keep the stupid accent thing up. So let's just pretend that he accidently drank some potion that.um.I don't know, makes him talk.differently.

"So listen up, space dog, my goons are gonna go out there and play the field like Ava Gardner."

"Oh Snap! You snapped a rather good one there, old chum! I salute you!" Hooted Dumbledore from behind a bush. He emerged, dusting his clothes and pulling leaves out of his long beard. He paused. "Has anyone seen my pants?"

Oliver stopped beating Percy into a bloody pulp. They both stared at Dumbledore. "I believe they've disappeared into the land of the missing," Dumbledore cheerily explained.

".Chum, let's go to a more private area where I can beat the schnauzer outta you," Oliver decided. "Indeed," Percy agreed. He turned his attention to Dumbledore. "Really sir, what is wrong with you? You've lost all venerability."

"I like sponges!" Dumbledore giggled.

* * * * * *

A few feet away, Harry was having trouble focusing. He was excited and anxious about the great quidditch game to be held later that day, sans brooms. He was also somewhat nervous about meeting his "secret love bunny" after the game. Harry decided to take a walk to ease his nerves. He asked Hermione ("sure! Perhaps we can collect more clues on that strange voice you've been hearing!") and Ron ("durrr.okay, it'll give me a chance to ogle Herm-I mean.d'oh.") to come.

They made their way slowly around the halls of the great castle. Ron and Hermione knew Harry was upset about something.

"Hey Harry, d'ya want to talk about what's troubling you, then?" Ron asked.

Harry sighed. "No thanks, Ron."

Hermione tried to say something but she was muffled under Harry's hair, which began to beat her into a bloody pulp. Whatever she said sounded like "mmrophmae!"

Harry sighed. "Yeah, thanks Hermione."

"WE ARE PUFFY HUFFLY TOO - YOU SAY WE SUCK BUT SAME TO YOU!"

"What on Hogwart's green quidditch field is that?" asked Ron.

"It sounds like some sort of cheer!" Hermione observed, breaking free from Harry's hair.

"It does," Harry agreed. He squinted down the hall. "And it looks like a parade is coming this way cheering it."

Sure enough, a parade of Hufflepuffs were marching down the hall, chanting their proud motto. They were decked out in yellow, head to toe, from the yellow badger hats on their head, to the yellow badgers slippers on their feet. Ernie MacMillan was leading the parade, holding up a large banner that said "HUFFLEPUFFS ARE PUFFTASTIC!"

"Hullo Ernie. What's going on?"

"We're having a Hufflepuff Pride Parade!" he boasted cheerfully. "We're sick of people putting us down, and we're going to take a stand!"

He slapped canary yellow Hufflepuff Badges on Harry.

"Everyone's here is support," he said breathlessly. "Susannah Bones, Justin Finch-Fletcherly, Hannah Abbot - and we're even toting a small shrine dedicated to Cedric." At the same of the deceased quidditch player, the Hufflepuffs bowed their heads.

"But.why?" asked Ron.

"To raise Hufflepuff awareness! To say we won't take the jeers anymore! Come on everyone, let's do the Hufflepuff Pride Dance!" The Hufflepuffs cheered and chattered excitedly, then dropped their banners and began kicking their legs and clapping their hands, as the Potter 3 watched in utter confusion.

"By the way Harry," Justin Finch-Fletcherly called, patting him on the back, "Good luck with the game today! Show those Slytherins!" he then disappeared into J. K. Rowling's portal of two-dimensional useless characters.

Harry turned to his bosom buddies who were still staring dumbly at the Hufflepuff spectacle in front of them. "I should go change for the game," he said. "See ya later." He then turned to Neville who was breathing down his neck, eyes glassy. "And no Neville, you cannot come. You cannot watch. You cannot sell tickets."

"I only did that once," Neville pouted. Hermione poured a vat of acid on him.

"Hey, that's not a food!" Ron cried. Hermione snickered. "Jealous, Ron?"

Ron's lower lip quavered. "Shut up, you cruel witch! WE BELONG TOGETHER!" He ran away bawling. Then he stopped, turned around, walked calmly back to Harry and said "good luck! I know you'll do swimmingly!" Then resumed bawling and ran away waving his arms violently, knocking down several Hufflepuffs like bowling pins.

Hermione blushed. "Yes, good luck Harry!" and strode away.

Harry pushed through the Hufflepuff parade and made his way back to his room in deep thought. "Come on then," he said to himself. "It's just another quidditch game. Sure, you don't have a broom and have to play on a Slytherin's back, but that doesn't change anything."

"Speaking of change," came a coy voice from behind, "you better hurry!" Neville giggled and then snapped Harry with a towel. Harry's hair growled, picked Neville up, and chucked him fifty yards away, where he landed in a bush and was greeted by a befuddled Dumbledore who inquired about his missing pants.