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Title: The Most Popular Halloween Costumes of 1998: Part I
Author: VAC
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: HP/SS
Summary: In 1998, the most popular Halloween costume was Harry Potter.
Disclaimer: Characters belong to JKR. All characters are over the age of consent.
Day: 4

Harry Potter had decided to be Harry Potter for Halloween.

Hermione had invited him to a nearby pub for Halloween. Everyone was required to be in costume that night (but there was an open bar until midnight so Harry thought that the extra effort might be worthwhile). Harry had originally thought about going as an empty refrigerator box, as he had just purchased a Stainless Steel Thermador 48” Refrigerator the previous week. However, while reading the Daily Prophet, he noticed a short article saying that the most popular Halloween costume that year was undoubtedly going to be Harry Potter. There was even going to be a booklet in the Prophet during the following week: Perfecting your Potter Costume.

“Perfecting your Potter Costume?” Harry had read aloud. “All you have to do is throw on some glasses and muss your hair around a bit.”

“Well, I suppose that the scar could give them a bit of trouble.” Hermione was working on another article for Arithmancy Today, not paying that much attention to her wayward best friend.

“You could draw that on with a Sharpie,” Harry scoffed, tossing the newspaper onto the table.

But when he glanced at the Perfecting your Potter Costume booklet the following week, he began to think that he already had the perfect ready-made costume. The booklet contained information on everything from creating the iconic scar to replicating his first-year Quidditch uniform. There were dozens of photographs of Harry from his schooldays to the present. The booklet gave tips on costumes such as: Muggle Harry (complete with oversized hand-me-downs), Gryffindor Harry (“show your house spirit this Halloween!”) and . . .

Horcrux Harry?” Sure enough, there was the Horcrux Harry costume, which featured a detachable part of Voldemort’s soul (made out of washable cotton/lycra blend). Harry couldn’t believe that so many people wanted to be him; why would anyone want to be him? Orphaned as an infant, kept in the cupboard under the stairs, and terrorized by a homicidal megalomaniac. “Just what everyone wants out of life,” Harry muttered, casting a quick Incendio on the booklet.

Then again, if everyone was competing to be the best Harry Potter this Halloween, Harry had a definite advantage.


“What are you supposed to be, mate?” Ron asked.

“I could have asked you the same question.” Ron’s face stuck out of the frog’s open mouth, a pair of giant round eyeballs attached to the top of his head. He looked a little bit embarrassed (as any grown man caught wearing a frog costume should be).

“I’m a chocolate frog,” Ron responded, perhaps a bit too defensively. “See? I’m brown.”

Hermione came into the room, wearing an attractive set of dress robes with a border hovering around her. “So you’re the trading card?” Harry assumed.

“Yes, I’m supposed to be Cliodna,” Hermione commented, turning around so that Harry could read the lengthy descriptive paragraph posted on her back.

“She got the good end of the deal,” Ron murmured. “She gets to go out in formalwear; I end up stuck in a frog costume.”

“But it’s creative!” Hermione protested. “We’re not going to look like anyone else in the room.”

“That’s for sure.”

“What are you supposed to be, Harry?” Hermione asked, trying to divert her boyfriend’s attention away from his chocolate frog costume.

“I’m Harry Potter.”

“Well, we know that, mate,” Ron laughed, “but what’s your costume?”

“Harry Potter. It’s the most popular Halloween costume this year. I really went all out on this one.” Harry turned around a few times, showing off his completely accurate Harry Potter costume.

“Harry, all you did was throw on whatever was lying on the floor,” Hermione sniffed, as if she’d really been expecting him to put a lot of time and effort into choosing a costume. “The whole point of Halloween is to become someone else for a few hours.”

“According to the Daily Prophet, I’m Casual Harry, ready for a relaxing night out with his friends. Casual Harry enjoys taking long walks down Diagon Alley, memorizing Quidditch statistics, and drinking tequila shots. Casual Harry also knows that he’ll have to pay for drinks after midnight, therefore he suggests that we leave now.”

“Man’s got a point,” Ron agreed, opening the door and ushering them out into the night.


“This is downright surreal.”

The club was filled with hundreds of Harry Potters, including some that he hadn’t seen in the Daily Prophet. There was Sexy Schoolboy Harry (as portrayed by a young man wearing short shorts with a Gryffindor tie), Emo/Goth Harry (carrying a photograph of his departed godfather and crying tears of black eyeliner), and Gay Leather Bondage Harry (no description needed). Middle-aged men and teenage girls alike were wearing the exact same pair of glasses with a scar on their foreheads. Harry pointed to someone over near the bar.

“See? He drew his on with a Sharpie.”

Hermione, however, was too busy looking at the other characters populating the club. There were quite a few Hogwarts professors hanging around. One Headmistress McGonagall was dancing happily with a Nymphodora Tonks; another McGonagall was (disturbingly enough) making out with Neville Longbottom in a darkened corner. Hermione yelped when a bushy-haired girl passed them. “Is that supposed to be me?” she asked, completely aghast. “That’s . . . I mean, I don’t . . .” She looked pleadingly towards Ron. “I don’t look like that, do I?” Ron hesitated for a moment but apparently that was a moment too long. Hermione punched him hard on the arm and went to the bathroom (probably to check her reflection in the nearest available mirror).

“That actually looks a lot like Hermione,” Ron said, taking another look at the girl. “She’s got the buckteeth and everything.”

But Harry had been distracted by someone on the other side of the room. Despite the fact that he’d finally learned the truth about Dumbledore’s death, he couldn’t help the twinge of hatred that overcame him when he saw that costume. However, he also felt a sense of regret for the man who had dedicated his life to his mother (and also to him, of course).

“So there’s the token jackass who dressed up as Snape,” Ron commented.

“He’s not as bad as the guy who dressed up as Voldemort,” Harry replied, pointing to the man coming out of the bathroom who had foregone a nose for the occasion.

“Now that’s just tasteless.” Voldemort had gone over to one of the tables and appeared to be flirting with a rather unfortunate Lily Potter. She was looking over his shoulder for an escape route but there didn’t seem to be one available to her at the moment. Harry glanced over at the other side of the room and noticed that the Severus Snape was looking longingly at her. Now, that was creepily in character.

But he didn’t have time to think about that. Someone behind him was tapping him on the shoulder. He turned around and saw one of the better-dressed Potters. The only major problem with him was that he looked like the only part of a Quidditch field he’d ever seen was the bleachers. “I just wanted to tell you that you have a great costume,” the Potter declared, sizing Harry up as the competition. “How do you get your hair messed up that well?”

“Hairspray and a blow dryer for fifteen minutes on high. Styling takes about another forty-five but, as you can see, it’s well worth the effort.”

“Yes,” the Potter responded, appraisingly. “I think your scar’s supposed to be a little more to the left though.”

Without further ado, he went to go get a gin and tonic (which Harry Potter would never have drunk). Ron was practically in hysterics. “Sorry, Harry. Guess the scar just didn’t cut it this time around.”

“Next time, I should probably just use the Sharpie.”


About halfway through the night, Harry Potter found himself alone the bar. Ron and Hermione had gone off to dance together (as well as a chocolate frog and a trading card could dance). He was swallowing down his fourth or maybe fifth tequila shot and beginning to feel slightly off-balance. He noticed Severus Snape approaching him from across the room.

“Good evening, Potter.”

“That was really good,” Harry commented. “Think that your timbre might be a bit off but you have a great presence about you.” He noticed the scar tissue on the man’s neck. “Did you do that with prosthetics? I don’t think there’s a spell for that kind of thing.”

“A couple of layers of liquid latex applied with a foam-wedge sponge.”

“Hmmm.” Harry ordered up another tequila shot. “So why did you decide to come as Severus Snape? That’s an unusual choice.”

“Not as unusual as the Voldemort in the corner.”

The Voldemort in the corner had moved on from Lily Potter; he was now chatting up a particularly unresponsive Ginny Weasley.

“First he’s hitting on my mum, then he moves onto my ex-girlfriend!” Harry took another swig of tequila and shouted over the bar: “Hey, what’s your problem?” However, the Voldemort in the corner didn’t seem to be paying attention to him at all, which was definitely not in character. Harry turned back to Snape: “So why Severus Snape?”

“I suppose I’m partial to the underdog,” Snape responded. He smiled knowingly and, since Harry had never seen Snape smile once (except maliciously, of course), he knew that this had to be just another lonely man pretending to be someone else. Well, that and the fact that Snape had been dead for about a year.

“The underdog, huh?”

“Well, she did end up marrying him,” Snape commented, motioning towards the Lily Potter who had started slow-dancing with the James Potter (who appeared to be her boyfriend). That was a cute couples idea. Come to the club dressed as parents who died trying to protect their child who ended up being abused for half of his life.

“Yeah, Snape just seemed to give up on romance after that.”

“I don’t think you know him that well.”

Harry almost spit out his drink. “Not know him that well? How well do you think you know him?”

“I wouldn’t have come as Severus Snape if I didn’t know him,” the man replied. “I always thought that he was secretly in love with Harry Potter.”

Harry actually did spit out his drink that time. “Are you kidding? We couldn’t stand each other! He was always out to get me . . . I mean, him in trouble. He might have died protecting him but that’s just because he was in love with his mum.”

“And Harry had her eyes.” They met each other’s gaze and something about him seemed uncannily familiar . . .

“Alright, everyone!” The proprietor had stepped up on the stage. “Time for the costume competition. This was a hard one with all you Harry Potters out there. However, our judges have made their decision. We have two winners for Most Original Costume: the talking piece of crap and the muggle billboard.”

“He’s a chocolate frog!” Hermione shouted over the loud applause. “He’s a chocolate frog!” But Ron was happily accepting the gift certificate; for fifty galleons of Quidditch merchandise, Ron was willing to be called a piece of crap any day.

The proprietor went through a number of other awards before coming to the only one that Harry cared about: Best Harry Potter Costume. “This was a difficult one,” the proprietor commented, “because there are so many great Harry Potter costumes out there. Really bloody fantastic, everyone. Give yourselves a round of applause.” They did as the proprietor opened the envelope. “And the Best Harry Potter Costume goes to . . . Quidditch Potter in the Third-Year Uniform.”

Harry watched as the bastard who’d told him to move his scar further to the left went up on-stage and claimed his award. “You can’t be serious.”

“I don’t know. I think he’s a rather decent Harry Potter.”

Harry momentarily considered getting up onto one of the tables and announcing that no one could have a better Harry Potter costume than he did because he had fucking been Harry Potter for eighteen years of his life. And here were all of these imposters who had no idea what his life had been like, who stood around acting like everything he’d been through had all just been a grand old time.

Harry almost started crying.

Severus Snape looked over at him. “You look upset.”

“I’m not,” Harry answered, maybe a little too quickly.

“Maybe we should get out of here?” Snape reached over and rested his palm on Harry’s thigh. “I live around here.”

“I live around here too,” Harry said, getting up and grabbing his jacket. He started walking away, completely uninterested in going home with some stranger dressed up like Severus Snape, but something made him stop. Perhaps it was the fact that, one year ago, he had walked away from a man who looked quite similar to the one he had turned him back on just now – someone who had literally given up his life for Harry, someone whose last request had been to look into his eyes. His eyes or perhaps his mother’s eyes. They were one and the same after all.

Harry looked back. “Well, are you coming?”


Emo/Goth Harry (carrying a photograph of his departed godfather and crying tears of black eyeliner)Ah ha ha ha! Someone good-looking who came in costume as that would find me SUCH a pushover. :D
Sometimes he makes Dobby cut him.

Just to feel something.

And he is always CAPSLOCK. ALWAYS.
Marvelous, hilarious, terrifically good. OMG I was chuckling all along, but the talking piece of crap / “He’s a chocolate frog!” gets me laughing aloud so much I think my neighbors have started worrying.
I was sure someone else was going to win the contest, just like it happened with Charles Chaplin, and the way both Harry and Snape explain how they get their 'looks' is just ... *laughs more*
You are an incredibly good writer. I'm enjoining these daily fics days really a lot.
Thanks so much! (Sorry that your neighbors will be looking at you strangely for a while.) Poor Charlie Chaplin. He didn't even make it to the finals for Best Little Tramp Impersonation. Glad that you're enjoying the daily fics! Hopefully, I'll make it to 365 of them. (Just keep writing come rain or shine or, like today, lots of midterm assignments.)

Would Snape only be dead a couple of months if this is Halloween 1998? Since Book Seven takes place between 1997-1998 since Harry was born in 1980?

Other than that, love the fic. :D
And . . . that's what happens when you try writing a fic-a-day.

You make really idiotic canon mistakes.

Gay Leather Bondage Harry (no description needed). - you betcha there needs a description! Hottest outfit there, and you don't describe it? ;)
*Picks self up from floor to click Part II*

*Prepares to fall of chair in laughter again*

Perhaps I won't bruise this time...

Oh, and yes, there's angst in there, but it's mixed in with the irony. Let's see if Snape can't make it all better what with his liquid latex neck wounds. ;)
I howled with laughter literally. Emo/Goth!Harry and Voldy flirting with red-heads and Harry's angst for James&Lily puppy sick lovers, and Ron aka talking piece of crap, oh boy I don't remember laughing so hard for a long time.
Now that was really funny!
*looking forward to part two when Harry finds out it's Snape after all* *grins*

Also, Charles Chaplin once won 3rd!!! prize in a Charles Chaplin lookalike contest

So Harry shouldn't be too mad ;-)
I would like to link to this fic as an example of humour fic, as oppposed to crack fic, in the profile info for hp_crackdealers (actually I think this one kind of walks the borderline). Is that ok with you?