lizbee | PH34R MY GENIUS! Or, a quick House/HP crossover of the crackfic variety.

Context: I was trawling around FF.net, as one does, when I came across this summary: Cameron's neice gets raped and beaten...then she gets runned over then she gets sick. The team want and need to get to the bottom of it.

Clearly, this was a badfic opportunity not to be missed. So I clicked the link, and began reading the thrilling adventures of Cameron's nieces and nephew.

Of her nephew, at one point, we get the description, To Cameron, he looked a bit arrogant and she thought about locking him in a closet.

This prompted

baggers to ask the very reasonable question, Is Cameron a Dursley now?

There was no fighting it. Fic had to happen.

A Slap in the Face to all Right-Thinking Fen Everywhere
by LizBee

A Slap in the Face to all Right-Thinking Fen Everywhere
by LizBee

"Vernon, Dudders, this is my long-lost American half-sister, Allison." Petunia dropped her voice. "Daddy had a secretary, you see."

"Is she a freak too?" Vernon demanded. He peered at Allison as if expecting her to sprout another head. She looked around nervously, as though she was expecting a giant hand to come out of nowhere and slap her.

Then a giant hand came out of nowhere and slapped her.

"POTTER!" yelled Vernon.

"I DIDN'T DO IT!" yelled Harry.

"I'LL GIVE YOU 'DIDN'T DO IT'!"

While this capslock family moment was taking place, Dudley helped Allison up off the floor, picking her pocket in the process. Her purse yielded two credit cards, a tenner and a photo of a grumpy looking man with a cane. The picture had a grainy quality, as if it had been printed from a surveillance camera. Around the man's head, someone had drawn little hearts.

Vernon was attempting to shove Harry's head in the oven -- "Not to worry, dear," he was saying to Petunia, "it'll look like suicide, see?" -- when Dumbledore appeared.

"Ah," he said. "The Ministry detected a rather powerful spell coming from your house. I thought it best to avert another expulsion."

"Aren't you dead?" Harry asked from inside the oven.

"Goodness, no." Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled. "But the Board of Governors were threatening to cut my retirement package, and I thought it best to make a hasty exit before they noticed I'd been embezzling the Orphans and House Elves Fund. Also, life insurance."

"Oh."

"Now, about that spell... The Metaphysical Slap, we call it." He shook Allison's hand. "Or, as my brother prefers, the 'Transdimensional Spanking'."

"Er," said Allison. "That's not very nice."

"Life's not very nice, dear. And you obviously pissed someone off good and proper. Probably slinking around looking heartsick, or slipping Viagra into someone's coffee? Mmmm?"

"You ... know Doctor House?"

"Know him? Taught him! Gryffindor, class of '79. Lovely chap. Voldemort had his eye on him, you know, so he moved to America, pretended to be a Muggle and became a doctor. Best Chaser the Gryffindors'd had since 1942."

"Oh."
"Shame he left. Was going to be an Auror. Good friends with Mad Eye Moody, as I recall. And a dab hand at the old Slap. I remember, you couldn't get through a breakfast some days, without some Slytherin going flying across the table." Dumbledore wiped a nostalgic tear from his eye. "Well, usually Severus. Something about that boy just seems to demand slapping. Rather like yourself, my dear. Well," he drained a glass of Uncle Vernon's best scotch, which no one had noticed him pouring, "must be off. I'm judging a wet t-shirt competition in Leeds, and then a best ankles contest in Puddlemere. And charging them all for the privilege. It's a good life, being dead. Do get out of that oven, Harry, you can't destroy Voldemort if you've been roasted. Pip pip!"

Dumbledore swept out, leaving a silent room behind him. The family stared at the table.

To break the quiet, Dudley looked up and said, "I'm gay."

"That's nice, dear," said Aunt Petunia.

end