I'll leave the original text here to explain most of the thread, but goddamn...

I'm gonna try to make this an actual challenge. I think it WAS at one point, but evidently I get ADD after two AM as well.

Summery: Death Eaters aren't so tough after all.

Rules:
-The words 'Jiminy Cricket' must be used by either Voldemort or a Death Eater.
-They may not be used sarcastically.
-500 words exactly

I know it still sucks, but I can't think of any way to salvage an idea this lame in the first place.

 

God damn dude, I hate you so much.

 

This is a horrible idea because Harry is already a pussy. Having a singing cricket on his shoulder can't really make him any more pussy until circa Deathly Hollows. So basically you have canon except with a running commentary by Harry's bland little invisible friend.

 

This is the most awe-inspiring idea to ever be conceived. Somebody get to work on this right away!

 

Hmm...

 

This isn't a challenge or a fic idea. At the very best it's a plot bunny.

A proper fic idea should basically BE the story condensed into an outline that you intend to follow, and a challenge should basically be the same, that you would like someone else to follow. Go learn how to make a proper fic idea and a proper chalenge and then you can post, until then please fuckoff. I check this place regularly because I like actually reading the challenges - they're almost as good as stories in their own right. If you don't post a good challenge, I'l criticise you thusly.

 

Harry yawned.

His eyes drooped more and more as Binns' lecture dragged on. The flat, droning voice of the ghost made it impossible for him to concentrate, and by the time he realized he should've been taking notes, Binns was already detailing the innumerable amounts of sharp toys Goblins used to carry in their revolutions.

"Harry," someone hissed. "Harry, wake up. You're drooling over my sweater."

"Wha...?"

He gave Hermione a tired look, grabbed the sweater he had been resting his head on and handed it back to her. She huffed and stuffed it inside her bag, where it would stay forgotten until Dobby stole it for some secret cleaning.

On his right sat Ron with an equally bored expression on his face. Harry glanced at him, made a face at the crude drawing of some kind of multiple-armed plant...touching Hermione and dropped his head back on the desk.

"...and the Goblins always carried two-faced lances, heavy battle axes, flaming nunchucks and such other weapons in battle," droned Binns. "It is perhaps most interesting to highlight the remarkable craftmanships of these weapons. The level of mastery Goblins displayed with swords and flaming nunchucks is, to this day, still unparalleled."

Criiiiiick.

Harry opened one eye curiously. The strange noise was coming from the window, through which a pleasant breeze blew in and made him even drowsier.

Criiiiick.

"Did you hear that?" Harry whispered to Ron. Ron gave him the finger and settled more comfortable over his own sweater. "I guess not."

He focused on the window again, some of his sleepiness fading in light of a new mystery, even if it was such a bland and uninteresting one. The noise came again, and yet no one seemed to be paying attention to it.

As his eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight that poured inside the classroom, Harry was able to make out a very tiny shape darting from side to side on the windowsill. It cartwheeled happily and squealed in delight. Harry was instantly irritated.

The tiny creature saw him staring and stared back, its eyes wide and innocent. It cocked its head to the side, curious, and jumped down from the windowsill, weaved through the labyrinth of leg chairs and hopped on his desk.

"Hello!" it squeaked at him. "My name is Jiminy Cricket. Who are you?"

Harry stared at it in surprise for a long moment. Not only was it annoyingly cheerful and hiperactive, but it could talk as well. He glanced at his large, thick textbook, sitting on his desk by the hell-spawn. So tempting...

"I'm Harry," he told Jiminy Cricket. "Am I still asleep and you're a dream or something? Last time I checked garden gnomes couldn't speak."

It leaned forward and tapped its nose, as if sharing a big secret. "Ah, how to tell dream from reality, or dream from dream, or reality from the next," it said pleasantly. Harry was forcibly reminded of Dumbledore, though this midget didn't seem to make a shit of sense.

"So you're saying I'm dreaming?"

"Oh, no. Of course not." The thing actually chuckled, as if Harry were being particularly thick. Harry glanced at his textbook again. So tempting... "Can we fall asleep in our dreams? Or wake up from reality? Can our minds even comprehend the difference?"

Superimposed to his image of Dumbledore, Harry pictured Dean, who tended to do cheap philosophy when drunk. His black friend and the old, venerable Headmaster in one person seemed like a stretch, even for his imaginative mind.

"Will you shut up?" Harry hissed. He looked around himself. Ron was still soundly asleep and Hermione was looking for a new quill. Harry turned to glared at the thing. "I can't be seen talking to an invisible, imaginary creature."

The critter midget chuckled again. Harry's eye twitched.

"Harry, my friend," it said happily, "I am most definitely not imaginary. Just because you're the only one that can see me doesn't mean I don't exist!"

So tempting...

"In fact, if I may be so bold," it continued, unaware of the danger. "I'll bet you a smile I can make even your professor, the ghost teaching this class, notice me, without anyone else doing so. A smile is all I ask, Harry."

So -

Screw tempting. It was time to do it already.

The creature jumped up and down. "Let me see you smi-"

A huge, heavy textbook was suddenly smashed against his desk, making Harry jump back in his surprise. As a faint trickle of blood slowly oozed from under the tome, Harry looked up to find Seamus looking down at him with a smug expression on his face.

"Seamus, what the fuck?" Harry said, drawing the attention of the whole class. "That's my textbook, and I was going to smash and burn the damn thing!"

His friend ran his fingers through a thin moustache, made a strange gesture with his hand and said, "Dude, you have no Quran."


EDIT: And that was my 500th post. I hate you, OP. I really do.

 

Yeah... Holy shit. Wow. Guys, I am so sorry. Never again will I post here after 2 AM, apparently I become completely retarded at around that time. Also ADD.

I'm surprised as hell someone did this, though it was fairly amusing. IdSayWhyNot, Sorry to give you a shitty opportunity, but it was your own choice to make that your 500th post. Fairly amusing, though, better then I expected after I read the challenge this morning.

 

Dean is the black one. Seamus is the Irishman.

 

That's your major problem with this thread?

 

That's a fairly legitimate correction to make.

 

I dun' goofed, son.