Mount Olympus. The place where gods and goddesses live, laugh, and cause immeasurable chaos for their own amusement. The air was thick with the kind of divine energy you could feel all the way down to your mortal bones, even if you weren't technically supposed to be here. The marble halls were alive with flickers of ethereal light, a constant reminder that this was a realm where everything—literally everything—was more than just a little extra.
Artemis, or as some of us might still call her, Lily Potter (Harry's mysteriously unbothered mother), was leaning casually against a pillar, her bow casually slung over her shoulder. She had that look, you know, the one that says, I could obliterate you with a thought, but I'm choosing not to because I like your vibe. You could almost see the mischief in her eyes as she glanced over at Hermes, who had just popped in with that trademark snap of his fingers.
"So," Artemis said, arching a brow, the corner of her lips quirking upward in a knowing smirk. "How's Harry's little prank army shaping up this year? I trust it's pure chaos, as always?"
Hermes let out a short laugh, the sound somewhere between a giggle and an evil cackle. "Oh, you have no idea. That kid's assembled a dream team of troublemakers. Luke, Travis, and Connor, obviously. They're the prank-commander dream team. But wait—there's more. Jim, the magical staff who believes that jazz monkeys in fedoras are the key to world domination... I don't even know where he comes up with this stuff, but it's brilliant. They're all in. It's like if you took every terrible idea and blended it together, but with a touch of genius. I mean, it's like watching a train wreck in slow motion, except you're rooting for the train."
Artemis chuckled, her smile deepening, looking so much like Lily in that moment it was uncanny. "Sounds like Harry inherited his father's flair for chaos. And those prank blueprints you mentioned? Let me guess—they're not the kind of thing you can just solve with a wave of a wand?"
"Ha! Not even close," Hermes replied with a wink. "But I gotta say, they could use a little more... flair. They've got the chaos part down, but pizzazz? That's where they could use a touch of divine inspiration. I had to stop by Camp Half-Blood earlier—gave them a little pep talk. They're cooking up some serious plans this year."
Just then, as if the gods had conspired to time this perfectly, Apollo—golden god of the sun, poetry, and, well, looking way too good for a god of his age— appeared in the doorway. His presence was like someone had turned up the brightness on the entire room. He was, as usual, radiating that carefree, mischievous energy. "What are we talking about? Harry's prank war again?" he asked, his grin so wide it might as well have been painted on his face. "I hope Hermes is giving the kid some top-tier prank ideas, because if anyone knows how to make chaos an art form, it's me."
Hermes raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a playful smirk. "Are you suggesting you want in on the action, Apollo?"
Apollo strolled into the room, stretching and flashing a lazy grin. "Not suggesting, my friend," he replied, leaning against the pillar next to Artemis. "I insist. And I have one condition." He paused dramatically, clearly relishing the suspense. "Haikus. I want them to incorporate my special brand of poetry. It's practically an art form, you know."
Artemis let out a soft laugh, her head tilting slightly. "Haikus, Apollo? Really? You think Harry's team would appreciate that?"
"Why wouldn't they?" Apollo shot back, all mock-offense. "I'm the god of the sun AND poetry. If I say it's the perfect prank weapon, it is. Plus, haikus are deceptively simple, and when done right, they can have the power of an entire solar flare... or at least, a glitter bomb to the face." He smirked, clearly enjoying the thought. "Imagine the confusion when the prank victims have to decode a beautiful poem while glitter rains down on them from the heavens. It's going to be glorious."
Hermes burst out laughing. "Fine, fine. I'll make sure to pass along your... creative input next time I'm checking in. But I'm warning you, Apollo, these kids are already brewing up some wild ideas. You may need to up your game."
Artemis crossed her arms, her smile softening into something more... fond. "And how's Harry holding up in all of this? Is he managing to stay ahead of the chaos, or is he sinking into the madness himself?"
"Oh, Harry?" Hermes said, his grin widening. "He's right in the thick of it. Practically thriving in the madness. If you ask me, he's not just a puppet master at this point—he is the chaos. The kid's got a mix of danger, charm, and adorableness that makes it hard to say no to him. He's got this team of chaotic geniuses who think jazz monkeys and glitter are the solution to all of life's problems. Honestly, I'm not sure if I should be impressed or terrified."
Apollo looked positively delighted. "This is going to be amazing. I'm already picturing it: The glitter, the haikus, the sheer absurdity of it all. I might even swing by Camp Half-Blood myself to witness the chaos firsthand. You know, just to make sure the haikus are being properly... incorporated."
Artemis raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching with amusement. "Only you, Apollo. Only you."
"Hey, I've got a reputation to uphold." Apollo winked. "And if I'm going to be the coolest uncle in existence, I need to start early. Thor's got nothing on me."
Hermes shook his head, but it was clear he was already planning his next move. "Well, you know what they say: When the gods start getting involved, the prank war goes from 'disaster' to 'legendary.' I can't wait to see how this unfolds. Chaos, glitter, haikus—what's not to love?"
And with that, Hermes vanished as quickly as he had appeared, leaving Artemis and Apollo to share a look that was a mix of affection and mild disbelief. The prank war was already legendary, but with the gods involved, it was going to become something that would echo through Olympus for centuries.
"Guess we better get comfortable," Artemis said, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "This is going to be one for the ages."
"Haikus and glitter," Apollo said with a grin. "What could possibly go wrong?"
—
The Big House gameroom was a chaotic battlefield of snacks, scattered maps, and more soda cans than any sane person would know what to do with. If anyone had walked in at that moment, they would've sworn a circus had exploded inside a thrift store. Seriously, there were enough candy wrappers and sticky notes to build a small fort. In the middle of it all stood Harry, looking more like the world's most ridiculous strategist than a literal demigod.
"Alright, everyone, gather up!" Harry called, throwing his hands up, like he was trying to summon the thunder—or at least the collective attention of a bunch of prank-obsessed teenagers. He was wearing a hoodie that practically screamed, "I'm the Monkey King, but I also need my daily dose of caffeine." The hoodie, a deep green with gold trim, somehow balanced out the insanity of his existence. He'd never take himself too seriously, but he was going to absolutely own this prank war.
"Three days until the final phase," Harry said, pacing back and forth in the middle of the room. "No more messing around. It's time to go big or go home. And I mean really big. We're talking fireworks, lasers, water balloons, and, if I can pull it off, a full lemonade stand army."
There was a collective groan from the room, but mostly from Hermione, who had been relentlessly ticking off checkboxes on her very own handwritten list. "You're serious about the lemonade stands, Harry? We're about to wage war and you're focusing on lemonade stands?"
"Absolutely." Harry gave her a cheeky smile. "Lemonade stands have the power of youthful rebellion. Trust me, it's perfect."
Jean, seated on a beanbag chair and looking impossibly intense for someone who had just finished testing glitter ratios, practically vibrated with excitement. "Ooooh, I can feel the chaos in the air already. Are we going full-on 'confetti explosion' for the grand finale?"
"You bet we are," Harry replied, grinning as if he'd just eaten an entire chocolate bar in one bite. "We'll blind them with the brilliance of chaos."
Fleur, perched delicately on the edge of a chair like she was royalty (because, let's face it, she probably was), studied the blueprints with a mix of skepticism and amusement. "Fireworks, non? But... big ones, right? Not the ones that just go pop."
"Fleur," Harry said, voice dripping with mock indignation, "I would never ever settle for 'pop.' We're talking full-scale explosions. Fireworks that make you forget your own name."
"Sounds terrifying, but I'm in," Fleur said with a gleam in her eye, her thick French accent adding extra flavor to the plan.
"Okay, okay, we're all about fire and explosions," Annabeth interrupted, leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed. "But—and this is a big but—we need strategy here. This isn't just about blowing stuff up."
Harry raised a finger as if preparing for some deep, philosophical insight. "Strategy is my middle name, Annabeth." Then, with a wink, he added, "Actually, it's Loki—but that's beside the point."
Annabeth blinked, deadpan. "Oh, I'm sure that helps with the planning."
"Can we stop talking about strategy for like two seconds?" Luke interjected, standing up with the casual swagger of someone who had just consumed four energy drinks and was looking to up the ante. "I'm Hermes' kid! We live for pranks. Let's make sure this blows their minds, not just their eardrums. We need stuff they never saw coming."
Clarisse, who had spent the last five minutes glaring at a broom like it was personally responsible for ruining her life, shot Luke a look. "What, exactly, are you planning, Luke? Because if you say something involving fire, I'm throwing you in the nearest pond."
Luke held up his hands in mock defense. "I was thinking more along the lines of... an ice prank? You know, freeze their entire yard. It'll be hilarious and completely unexpected."
Clarisse stared at him, unamused. "That better not include any flaming squirrels, Luke. We've discussed this."
Connor and Travis, ever the dynamic duo, were locked in a passionate debate over the merits of different water balloon sizes.
"No, no, no!" Connor was practically standing on his chair, gesturing wildly. "It's all about the big ones. The bigger the balloon, the bigger the splash. It's a matter of impact."
Travis, who clearly didn't agree, crossed his arms. "But that's where you're wrong, Connor. It's about precision. Small balloons, perfect accuracy. You get more points for hitting them right."
"Small balloons?" Connor scoffed. "What are we—playing golf?"
Katie, who'd been quiet up to that point, raised a hand like a teacher trying to calm the class. "What if we just... combine the two? Big balloons for the splash, small ones for the precision? Like... a symphony of chaos?"
Yelena, who had been scribbling on her notepad for the last hour, raised her eyebrow. "Symphony, huh? More like... a disaster."
"Exactly!" Katie said, grinning like a cat who had just caught the mouse. "A beautiful disaster."
"Love it," said Harry, nodding like a proud coach. "Okay, we've got fireworks, ice pranks, lemonade armies, and water balloons. But now—" He paused dramatically. "We need wildcards."
Jim, who had been oddly quiet up until now (and that was unusual, considering he was a literal staff), popped up from the corner. The moment he entered the room, it was like watching Jim Carrey do improv in a fever dream. "Wildcards, you say? You need wildcards? Oh, you've come to the right place! I am, in fact, a professional wildcard!" He twirled around like an over-caffeinated tornado, eyes wide and hands flailing. "How do you feel about... a giant laser light show combined with a wave machine and synchronized swimming squirrels?"
There was a beat of silence before Annabeth, ever the level-headed one, rubbed her temples. "I... don't even know how we'd do that, but I'm not against it?"
"I'm in," said Harry, grinning like a Cheshire Cat. "I've always wanted to see synchronized swimming squirrels."
"Great!" Jim said, popping a party popper for emphasis. "We'll need some heavy-duty duct tape and about 30 gallons of glitter."
Hermione, looking like she might actually explode from stress, added, "Please tell me you've thought about the logistics of all this, Harry. I can't have us running around without a plan!"
Harry smirked. "Hermione, when have I ever done something without a plan?"
"Right, because a lemonade army was totally planned."
Harry gave her a mock-sheepish grin. "Well, when you put it that way... yeah, maybe I should make a spreadsheet. But we've still got three days. Plenty of time."
And with that, they were off. The wild plans, chaotic schemes, and completely unnecessary, but fantastically fun ideas came to life. This was going to be a prank war for the ages.
—
The war room was a battlefield of marshmallows, empty snack bags, and a haze of chaos. People were shouting ideas back and forth, each one more ridiculous than the last, as they tried to out-prank each other before the big showdown. It was like a game of "who can make everyone laugh harder while simultaneously making their enemies regret living" — which, honestly, was Harry's kind of party.
"Alright, listen up!" Harry said, swatting a marshmallow from his sleeve. "Keep brainstorming while I get some advice from the god who invented chaos himself." He reached into his hoodie pocket with a dramatic flourish, drawing out the communication mirror. It was, after all, his personal channel to dad—and not just any dad, but Loki, the Trickster God of Asgard, master of mischief, and a guy who probably spent more time pranking the universe than actually doing anything productive. A true role model.
The mirror flickered, crackled, and then—poof!—it swirled to life, a burst of green and gold light. After a brief shimmer, Loki's impossibly suave face appeared, framed by the kind of luxurious velvet background that only he could pull off. He was reclining in an armchair, sipping from a goblet that probably contained something dangerously magical—or just straight-up illegal.
"Ah, my beloved, mischievous offspring," Loki drawled, winking. "Here for some guidance, are we? Last I saw, you were preparing to ruin someone's day with a well-placed banana peel. Got a new idea?"
Harry grinned, leaning in closer. "Actually, yeah. I need a little help with something a bit more... cartoony." He dramatically paused, for effect. "Think, like, Looney Tunes. I want to turn the opposition into cartoon versions of themselves—just for an hour. Picture Sirius as Bugs Bunny, Ron as Yosemite Sam—imagine the chaos!"
Loki raised a finely arched eyebrow, a wicked smile creeping onto his face. "Oh, now we're talking. You want to bring a little whimsy into the world, eh? I approve. Who says gods can't be a little ridiculous once in a while?" He paused, as if considering something important. "Human forms are so... limiting, aren't they? So stiff. So... boring. But throw in a few oversized mallets and some spontaneous anvil drops? Now that's a recipe for destruction—and entertainment."
"Exactly! Can you help me with that? A transformation spell with a one-hour limit?"
Loki swirled his goblet, looking down into it like it was a crystal ball. "I can help, my son. I'm practically made for this. A few minor adjustments to reality, a dash of trickster magic, and bam! You've got your cartoon-fueled nightmare. Imagine the look on Ron's face when he suddenly realizes he's been turned into a trigger-happy cowboy with a hat that's four sizes too big."
Harry snickered. "Oh, this is going to be so good. But, uh, quick question: how much will they notice? Like, I'm picturing Ron with giant cartoon feet and—"
Loki cut him off with a raised hand. "Oh, they'll notice. That's part of the fun. The look on their faces when they realize they've become a walking, talking cartoon character—priceless. But, don't expect them to do much about it. No one ever does when they're covered in anvils and pies, do they?" He chuckled darkly. "The true magic of pranking is that they won't be able to stop themselves from being ridiculous. They'll be caught in their own absurdity, as helpless as a cartoon character on a Tuesday morning."
Harry snorted. "Oh, I love this idea. So, we're looking at classic transformations for now, nothing too crazy, right?"
"Exactly," Loki agreed, leaning in closer as if sharing a secret. "Pranks are best when they're unexpected. Think of it as... mysterious chaos. Keep 'em guessing. The moment they realize they're trapped in a slapstick comedy, you've won."
Harry beamed, more energized than ever. "Alright. I've got it. Classic cartoon chaos, with a Loki-approved twist. Thanks, Dad."
"Anytime, my boy," Loki said with a dangerous smirk, before the mirror flickered and went black.
Harry gave a satisfied sigh and slipped the mirror back into his pocket. As he stood up, he adjusted the holster around his arm, where the Riyu Jingu Bang rested. It was currently in wand mode, of course, but Harry had a funny feeling that it was just waiting for an excuse to turn into its oversized staff form and wreak havoc in its own chaotic way.
The staff had a personality, you see. And, unlike most magical artifacts, Jim—the Riyu Jingu Bang—wasn't content to just sit idly by while Harry made plans. No, Jim had a flair for the dramatic, and he had no problem voicing his opinion—whether Harry liked it or not.
"OH YEAH, BABY!" Jim's voice burst out of the wand, louder than Harry had anticipated, causing him to nearly trip over his own feet. "LOKI'S IN THE HOUSE, AND NOW IT'S TIME TO BLOW THE ROOF OFF THIS PLACE! LET'S TURN THESE FOLKS INTO CARTOONS, HUH? WOO-HOO! BOING BOING!"
"Good grief, Jim," Harry muttered, trying not to laugh as he steadied himself. "You were way too excited for that. Chill out a bit, alright?"
"CHILL OUT?!" Jim practically shrieked. "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! WE'RE GOING TO TURN PEOPLE INTO CARTOONS, HARRY! THIS IS WHAT LEGENDARY PRANKS ARE MADE OF! GET READY TO SEE SOME LOONEY ACTION, BABY! WOOO!"
"Yeah, okay, calm down, Jim," Harry said, trying to suppress the grin creeping up his face. "I know this is going to be wild. But remember, we're keeping it classy—classic cartoons. Don't go turning Ron into a giant banana or something, alright?"
Jim, ever the enthusiast, vibrated excitedly in Harry's holster. "OH, I GET IT! YOU WANT TO TURN 'EM INTO LEGENDS! BUGS BUNNY, BABY! YOS-MITE SAM! DAFFY DUCK! WAHHHH-HOOO!"
Harry couldn't help but laugh at Jim's antics. "Alright, alright. Let's not get too carried away, or you'll be the one to answer for the consequences when Ron starts firing carrots at us."
"Carrots? NO! CABBAGES! LET'S GO BIG!" Jim screamed, practically vibrating with glee.
Harry couldn't stop grinning. If there was one thing he knew for sure, it was that this prank war was about to get a whole lot more interesting. And with Loki's blessing—and Jim's enthusiasm—nothing was going to stop them from making this the most chaotic, Looney Tunes-inspired disaster anyone had ever witnessed.
With a satisfied nod, Harry turned to the team. "Alright, team! We're turning the opposition into cartoons! Prepare yourselves for a world of anvil drops, oversized mallets, and enough slapstick to break the universe. Let's make this prank one for the history books!"
—
Sirius Black leaned back in his chair, looking like he was about to deliver an inspirational speech—but instead of a hero's call to action, it was more like the planning stages of a prank war that could probably cause a major international incident. His hands, which had once been responsible for the chaos of countless pranks at Hogwarts, were now poised over the table like a conductor leading an orchestra of chaos. It was all about precision, timing, and—let's be real—spontaneity.
"Alright, Team Black," Sirius said, his voice deep and gravelly in a way that made everyone sit up straight, ready for anything. His grin stretched wide. "Let's get down to business. We've got a prank war to win, and I'm talking next-level stuff here. I'm talking 'send them into a paranoid spiral' sort of thing. The kind of chaos that makes them question their own reality."
Fred Weasley, grinning like a cat who had just found the cream, shot his twin a look that could only mean one thing: they were about to get wild.
"So, no more whoopee cushions and fake spiders, yeah?" Fred asked, waggling his eyebrows. "I'm thinking something that'll make them question their very existence."
George snorted. "You mean like that time we swapped the contents of the classrooms with a Muggle circus, and Snape thought he'd accidentally gone insane?"
Sirius chuckled, remembering it all too well. "Exactly. But we've got to take it to the next level. Think bigger. Think chaos on an intergalactic scale."
"You mean bigger than last time, when you somehow convinced me to glue the door shut with pumpkin juice and turned our kitchen into a haunted house?" Ron Weasley asked, scratching his head. "That was… fun. But this? This sounds a little... much."
"Don't worry, Ron," Ginny Weasley chimed in with her signature cheeky grin. "We can't just prank them. We need to leave them questioning reality itself. Not just prank them—confuse them. Make them wonder if they've stepped into some sort of alternate dimension where nothing is as it seems."
"And that's where I come in," said Lee Jordan, looking like he was about to launch into one of his legendary rants. "I've got a few sound-based ideas that will make them think they've developed some serious auditory hallucinations. Ever heard of a hearing echo that makes people hear things before they say them? It'll be like they're in their own personal horror show."
Tonks, who was lounging in the corner, suddenly straightened. "Ooh, I'm in for that one. Add a few disguises, and we can really make them lose it. I could disguise myself as their worst nightmare—a talking suit of armor, maybe?"
Sirius looked over at his daughter, Lyra, who was bouncing on his knee, completely oblivious to the mounting chaos brewing around her.
"Dad?" she piped up, her voice an unexpected calm amid the storm. "What if you just turned them into puppies?"
Sirius blinked, his face lighting up with amusement as he tilted his head. "Puppies, huh? Now that is an idea. Maybe next time, kiddo."
Marlene, who had been quietly sipping tea in the corner and reading her book—because apparently, someone had to remain sane in this madness—glanced up, her brow furrowing as a chill ran down her spine.
"Don't tell me," Marlene muttered, her voice low. "It's happening again, isn't it?"
Sirius could already feel it. That uneasy tension in the air. A shiver, a whisper of chaos in the wind. "Yeah," he said, his voice dropping. "I feel it too. Across the pond."
"Camp Half-Blood," Marlene finished, looking more annoyed than worried. "He's up to something big again, isn't he?"
"Harry Lokison?" Sirius said, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "When he gets that look in his eyes, it's like he's planning the end of the world. Last time it was those enchanted brooms. Before that, a dragon-sized firework display over London. But this time? This time, I can feel it—it's gonna be something next-level."
A cold draft swept through the room just as the shiver hit their spines again. It wasn't just a chill—it was Harry-level chaotic energy that had a way of making everything worse. But also, in a strangely entertaining way, better.
Lyra, still completely unaware of the tension surrounding her, perked up. "I can't wait to make marshmallows next time," she said, completely in her own world.
Everyone froze. Then, in perfect unison, they all shot her a look. "Marshmallows?" George asked.
Sirius chuckled and ruffled her hair. "Kid, if there's one thing I know, it's that marshmallows and chaos go together like firewhisky and regret. We'll get to them later."
Fred leaned over to his twin, whispering. "I think we can work marshmallows into the prank war somehow."
"Maybe turn them into marshmallow explosives?" George whispered back, grinning.
"No. We're not turning anyone into marshmallows," Sirius cut in quickly, sensing what was coming. "If anyone's getting exploded, it's me."
But then, the room's mood shifted. Ron, who was scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment, raised an eyebrow. "But Harry... whatever he's cooking up... is it gonna be worse than last time?"
Percy, always the voice of reason when it came to planning, adjusted his glasses. "Worse? It's Harry. What do you think?"
Sirius stood up, brushing his jeans and looking around at his crew. "Alright, enough talk. We've got a war to win. We're about to go all-in. Just… remember, we're aiming for the kind of prank that leaves them with an existential crisis. We don't want anyone calling their therapist after this."
Marlene, still observing all this like it was just another Tuesday, sighed, placing her teacup down gently. "This is going to be an absolute disaster, isn't it?"
Sirius shot her a grin that was equal parts mischievous and confident. "Oh, it's going to be legendary."
But deep down, everyone knew the truth. Whatever Harry was planning at Camp Half-Blood? It was going to make this prank war look like a game of wizard's chess.
And they weren't ready for it. Not by a long shot.
—
Alright, kids, strap in! This is gonna be a wild ride. So picture this: Sirius Black, Fred and George Weasley, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Tonks, and the rest of the gang are huddled around a table, plotting a prank war. But this isn't just any ordinary prank war. No, no, this is a prank war that could potentially send them all into an existential crisis. And they have no idea that they—yes, they—are about to be part of something way bigger than themselves.
Cue the dramatic whoosh. Time freezes. Everyone's sitting there, their eyes wide, their hands poised, but their entire existence has been paused. So what happens next?
Deadpool.
You know, the Deadpool? The guy who talks too much, wears red spandex, and is probably your favorite Marvel character if you're a sucker for chaos.
Yeah, he casually strolls into the scene like it's no big deal, wearing his signature red-and-black suit like he's about to enter the world's most awkward family dinner. And because, you know, he's Deadpool, he just acts like this is a regular Tuesday.
"Oh, Team Black," Deadpool starts, his voice like honey mixed with the sound of a chainsaw revving. He pauses dramatically, then gives a slow, exaggerated spin. "You guys really have no idea what's coming, do you? I mean, you've got pranks, you've got puppies—honestly, I'm a little disappointed you're not turning each other into pandas instead, but I digress. And then, of course, there's Harry."
He raises an eyebrow and points at the air like he's trying to summon a wizard from the beyond. "You see, Harry's over at Camp Half-Blood cooking up something that's gonna make this whole prank war look like a kindergarten finger-painting project. And here's the kicker, folks—Harry doesn't even know yet that I'm gonna be on his team."
He gives the readers a sly grin, like he just told them the best-kept secret of the century. "That's right, Harry—you get me. Me, the guy who can break all the rules and still look like a superhero. No biggie. But you'll find out soon enough, I'm sure. And trust me, that prank war? Yeah, it's gonna be a disaster—a spectacular, glorious disaster. And I'm just here for the ride, baby."
Deadpool takes a moment, because, let's face it, he's gotta revel in the absurdity of it all. "And look at Sirius over there—this guy? Total drama queen. Mr. 'I'm the cool uncle who's secretly planning a prank to ruin your life.'" He points at Sirius, grinning like an idiot. "Don't worry, buddy, I've got a special surprise for you later. You think I won't leave you some dog chow? Pfft, just wait."
Then Deadpool takes a long pause. And just when you think he's done talking—he's not. Oh no. He's far from done.
"Alright, alright, enough about them. Let's talk about you, the readers. Yeah, you. I know, you're here for all the crazy pranks and shenanigans, and I'm telling you right now—next couple of chapters? It's gonna be a wild ride. We've got pranks, chaos, Harry turning eleven (which is basically the biggest birthday of his life), and—oh, did I mention?—I'll be making a special guest appearance. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know, you're already doing a happy dance in your seat. Don't even try to deny it."
He flashes a grin so wide it's almost criminal. "And before I forget, I'm drawing over Lupin's porn-stache. Yeah, you heard me right. That thing's gotta go. No one—NO ONE—needs that much facial hair, especially in a book that's supposed to be for kids. Let's just take a second to rethink our life choices, okay?"
Deadpool shrugs like it's no big deal and continues. "And if that doesn't make you want to hang on to every word, well, I've got one more surprise for you. Dog chow. For Sirius. You're welcome."
As if on cue, Deadpool dramatically bows like he's the guest of honor at an award show. "And with that, my dear readers, I've gotta jet. But don't you worry, I'm always coming back. Like the best kind of villain, I leave you wanting more. Or in my case, I leave behind a trail of glitter, questionable decisions, and probably an inappropriate amount of violence."
He winks. "And by the way—I'm still going to leave Sirius a bowl of dog chow. Can't forget that part."
And just like that, with a flick of his wrist, Deadpool disappears. But not before leaving behind a cloud of chaos. And maybe some confetti. Honestly, who knows what kind of mess he leaves in his wake.
The room is frozen in time again, still full of pranking potential and half-completed plots, unaware of what's coming next. But rest assured, readers: the real chaos is about to begin. And trust me, with Deadpool in the mix, it's going to be legendary.
Let the prank war commence.
---
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