"Why won’t anyone tell me anything?" wondered Harry out loud whilst squatting in Petunia’s begonias. Things were set to get worse as Dudley was demented (literally this time). Harry was quickly expelled, and removed to a house that didn't exist. The chief wizards however soon realised that if they truly expelled Harry, they’d have over 600 pages to fill all by themselves. Thus Harry arrived at platform 9 ¾ accompanied by Snuffles, who was later disciplined for not behaving Siriusly.

Once back at Hogwarts, Harry was further ignored by the bulk of the school and began to take umbrage. "No, please, take her!" his friends quipped, misunderstanding for comic effect. Harry’s dreams involving long corridors were not helping, neither were the ones about a wizard with a long white beard shouting "You shall not pass!" Putting this down to exam worries, rather than too many late night reading sessions, Harry decided to take matters into his own hands and teach his fellow students how to blow each other up. "Let’s call ourselves something inconspicuous," suggested Hermione "something that sounds innocent and not at all about fighting." "How about Dumbledore’s Army?" suggested Fred. Everyone agreed. As they were leaving, there was a snivelling noise at the back, "Aah-Cho…" said Ron. "Bless you" Hermione replied. "Not me, them" said Ron, indicating Harry and his new girlfriend locked in a tight, if tearful embrace. "Let’s get out of here" he muttered, his ears turning redder by the second.

Harry was suffering again in his sleep, this time from hunger. The urge to take in a little snack now and again between supper and breakfast took a tragic turn one night, as Harry’s ravenous eyes set upon Arthur Weasley. Fortunately Harry managed to keep the fact that it was he that had landed Ron’s dad in St Mungo’s from the rest of the Weasley family, until they were able to more rationally blame it on a dark wizard in the guise of a snake. Whilst visiting Mr Weasley, the intrepid gang completely failed to save the life of another patient who was later killed by his pot plant. Apparently the fact that it was whispering "feed me Seymour, feed me now" did not register as suspicious.

Life post-Christmas was verging on unbearable for Harry, banned from Quidditch, extra lessons with Snape, exams looming, a snivelling part-time girlfriend and still 300 pages to go. Things could have done with looking up. Fortunately his friend Hagrid was back, so Harry had a lot of looking up to do. "Hem hem" Umbridge interrupted whilst inspecting Hagrid’s class… "Don’t you find being taught by a giant somewhat… dangerous?" "I is not dangerous" retorted Hagrid. "I is the Big Friendly Giant."

It soon became clear that the Big Friendly Giant had not only been to giant country for his holidays, but had returned with a souvenir in the shape of his little brother. Also apparent was the fact that giant's language skills are genetic: "Grawp" said Grawp.

In an amusing if slightly contrived plotline, Harry sticks his head in a bowl and gets to see Snape's underpants, courtesy of his deceased father, who he now begins to doubt his allegiance to. Desperate to speak to Sirius, and too dumb to think of the magic mirror in his trunk, Harry risks expulsion and 3^rd degree burns by sticking his head in the headmistress' fireplace. "Sirius is dying!" he yells at an empty room, taking the word of an untrustworthy elf that this is indeed the case. Deciding there is no point in sticking around at school (as exams are finished, and the recently departed Weasley twins have trashed the place anyway), Harry gathers together a gang to fly on invisible horses to a place he has only seen in dreams. Implausibly, so far so good, until everything turns out to be a trap set by Voldemort, like everyone has been trying to tell Harry all along.

Unfortunately it all turns a bit Black for Sirius as he falls screaming behind a veil, never to return. "That should have been me" snarled Snape from an unknown location. "Did you never see 'Die Hard'? Does the Sheriff of Nottingham mean nothing to you? I get first refusal on all overly dramatic death scenes. I'm off to speak to my manager" he muttered, curling his lip.

"So basically that's it," summarised Dumbledore. "Either you kill Voldemort, or he'll kill you, though something tells me that it's going to take at least another thousand pages before either event, so I'm going to bed if it's all the same to you?"