Happy Rotter Strikes Again: Chapter One

Dear Readers,
We three hobos of Christmas Island are now writing…
A co-written series! 
Warning: If you haven’t read/watched (you better have read them first!!!) Harry Potter, you may not understand the following story, but feel free to read for bizarreness. Also, we’re just having fun. And it’s full of spoilers. So, if you want the mysteries to remain mysteries, and not to be exclaimed to your ears through confusing, possibly incorrect ways, we advise to read at those risks! 
Now, without further ado, we give you…

Happy Rotter Strikes Again

     Happy stared at the device in his hand, horrified. 
     “It’s called a cell phone,” Mr. Weasel said. “Or a mobile.”
     “I’ve never heard of such a thing,” Happy muttered in his traditional British accent. “How do you know about muppet technology that I don’t even know of? That’s not possible!” He shoved the brick-sized phone at Mr. Weasel. 
     “You were the Chosen One, Happy,” Jenny sighed. “That doesn’t mean you’re God.” 
     “I’m going to take a walk,” Happy barked at the Weasel family gathered around their kitchen table. They stared at him, flabbergasted, as he stormed outside, furious at the world. 
     How dare they! he thought. I’m Happy Rotter! I deserve to know everything! I defeated  Mort Loverdold! Perhaps I should just destroy the thing. I destroyed all that ancient stuff; muppet junk should be easy. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. Happy clutched his neck automatically, before remembering the star-shaped scar had been rendered useless. 
     Happy turned around. The kitchen glowed brightly through the dark summer night. He could discern figures through the molding curtains. From a distance, the house looked like a shoe. On more than one occasion, he had wondered about that and a certain nursery rhyme. Unfortunately, it was one only told to muppet children, and Happy’s best friend, Tom, had only given Happy befuddled looks. 
     By the time Happy returned to the house, he was much to tired to take action. He went to bed, plotting different ways to kill the cell phone and leave no evidence. 

*

     In the morning, Happy flew on his mop to the school, Pigpimple. It was especially refreshing to fly through a cloud. It was a shame the mop absorbed so much of the water, though. 
     Once he arrived at the castle, he strode to the headmaster’s office that lay in ruins from the final battle. In fact, the entire castle was in shambles. All of the wizards that had a bit of spare time were pitching in to magically fix the magically destroyed building and the surrounding grounds. The school board was practically demanding that by the end of the summer, Pigoimples be habitable. 
     “Ah, Happy, there you are,” a voice said. “What have you been doing this past year?” 
     Happy jumped up into the air, whirling around. 
     “Happy, do use a wand when alone,” the man said, striding from the shadows of a collapsed wall. 
     “Not possible,” Happy whispered, fainting. When he awoke, he felt something tickling his face. He swatted it and opened his eyes. A grey and white beard filled his vision. “Professor Dumbdoorknob?” Happy asked. “How?” 
      Professor Dumbdoorknob helped the seventeen-year-old to his feet. “Why, Happy, I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean.”
     Happy glared. “You’re dead, sir.”
     “I suppose I am. I really don’t know how I got back to this living land. Although, the next land is quite alive. Do you like the color red?” 
     “Um…”
     “Dear me!” Dumbdoorknob exclaimed. “You never know when Tod Mirdle will strike! Really, where is your wand?” 
     “But professor!” Happy protested. “I defeated Mort Loverdold! He’s gone!”
     “What? Oh, Happy, I don’t think so! I may be old, but I still have most of my marbles! Oh, do I see lemon drops in that bowl? Goodness, there are so many! Pip pip, Happy! And remember to practice your occlumency!”
     Happy slid to the floor, his mind spinning. 

      Joe