(This is my deranged fic! DerANGed... Set in Harry's 7th year. Watch out for Time Warps! Also, the title comes from Monty Python and the Life of Brian. Not mine.)
Over the past seven years, History of Magic hadn't gotten even the least bit more interesting to Harry. And now, during his last spring here at Hogwarts, it had become plain embarassing. They'd reached the era of the Dark Lord, You-Know-Who, Lord Voldemort in other words. More specifically the end of his reign, where Harry suddenly became the focus of the history lessons. Well, as of yet, it was his parents. Professor Binns had spent a day lecturing on his mother and father and their relationship during their school years. It was then the Muggle-born wizards and witches, like Lavender Brown and Dean Thomas, began to really look at him with awe.
He wished it would just stop. He'd defeated Voldemort a few times, who cared? Well... he cared, but he was only doing it because it was his duty. He was able to defeat Voldemort, and therefore he couldn't sit back and watch it all go by and let Voldemort rule! They also forgot Hermoine and Ron in their praises, they helped him a lot too. He swore if he got one more person coming up to him, asking him about what it felt like to be the most powerful wizard in the world, he'd punch them out, and that was very unlike him.
He didn't like to be reminded of that. He wasn't the hero like in comic books who could just brush off his enemy after he defeated them. Voldemort had effected him in so many ways, the way he thought, the way he acted, that he was always in the very back of his mind nowadays. That partially was because nothing had been heard about him in over a year... not a good sign.
As the bell rang, Harry threw his books in his bag, and headed towards the Library, reminding himself that he had a charms essay to complete, and a lot of research to be done. Not to mention another essay on himself for History. That was going to be [i]fun[/i], Harry thought sarcastically.
My god, I'm becoming bitter, he thought to himself. Anymore of that, and he'd be like Professor Snape. He still didn't know much about Professor Snape's attitude towards him, besides the amount that he'd found out during his fourth year. He yearned to know though....
That, he reminded himself, was not why he was in the Library, however. He was supposed to be researching for Charms. Sitting down, he opened his textbook and began to read.
****(Waaaayyy Baaaackkk...)
He pushed his dark hair out of his face, it was thick and hard to manage. He remembered that they said that his hair might change... but he couldn't remember when it hadn't always been this way. Shrugging, he hauled his trunk to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
As he passed through the borders, he saw a pack of wildly dressed children, girls and boys with pounds of glass and wooden beads, and brightly coloured clothing, and belled pants. Ahh... the year 1968 was ending up a good year. He shook his head and loaded his trunk on the train.
Entering a car he found three boys, one short, fat, with brown hair. A very tall boy with unruly black hair and a beard already starting on his chin, a medium sized, thin brunette boy, and a tall, pretty, firehaired girl, with electric green eyes.
"Hello." He said softly. "Can I take a seat?" They nodded and he took a seat across from them. The firehaired girl grinned in reply.
"My name's Lily Schunard, and these three are Sirus Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew." She said. "So what year are you in? I haven't seen you around here."
"I'm in my seventh year, I was in India until recently, my father was doing research there." he said.
"India, I've always wanted to go..." Lily said with a smile. "So James, which house do you want to go in?"
"Gryffindor... I think..." he said, unsure of his answer. A far back part of him cried and begged for Slytherin, but he resisted it. Immediately the faces of the boys, who had been reluctant of his presence, suddenly became for friendly.
"Whew... those bigoted jerks over to Slytherin don't need another friend..." The burly black haired boy, whom the boy recognized as Sirius, with a scowl. Lily nudged him sharply.
"They're not ALL like that." She said sharply. "Only a majority..."
"Yeah, a majority excluding Severus Snape." Remus snickered. "The book hound..."
"Geez... I thought at least *Someone* would get this right..." Sirius said in a nasal voice.
"But sir! I got it right!" Remus responded frantically.
"Besides you Mr. Snape..." Sirius drawled.
"You're just jealous." Came a voice from the door. He whipped around to see a tall boy, about six inches over six feet, with thick straight black hair and a Roman nose. His black eyes stared at them frigidly. "I just happen to study, rather than worry about Quidditch, unlike some people I know..." He said, a direct snub, before turning and walking away.
"See what they mean!" Peter squeaked, which was odd for a boy of his age. He rolled his eyes, willingly agreeing that this Snape fellow's attitude probably could get annoying. He was unnerved by Severus frigid attitude, or at least that's what he supposed it was... it was just a feeling...
"Come on, we'd better throw on our robes." Remus suggested. He grinned. This was going to be a great year, he could just tell...
******
He was running through the darkened halls... they didn't look like Hogwarts at all. That frightened him. All he wanted was to cause a little mischief, and now the man was after him.
He could not see the man's face, or any distinguishing features except for his clothing blacker than the night that had settled in these halls. Then there was that horrid rasping noise... he couldn't tell where it came from, but as the man neared it got louder. So he ran faster.
He fell with a crash to the floor, armor clattering behind him. The man was towering over him... then nothing.
*******
Chess, a prudish angel of the heavenly gates, stalked the isles full of minature chess games being played out by the mortals below her. She stopped to glare at one. Scowling she kicked it's stand roughly, muttering as she stubbed her toe on the stone pedestal. She absolutely hated cheaters. She got some small satisfaction that it'd set itself back in order. Limping onward she made her way through the games.
(Okay, the author would like to say that, 'No, I am not crack'. I happen to be high on life! Look for more of this in the future... when all is explained.)