Harry Potter and the Passion of the Poltergeist

Harry opened his eyes and grasped his wand. Over the past two weeks since the battle at the Ministry, he'd been hyper vigilant. He'd been wondering vaguely if he should join the Dursleys for dinner, when the streetlamp just outside of the house had gone out. He crept to his window to take a look outside. Heart leaping, he rushed downstairs to admit the Headmaster of Hogwarts. He still wasn't over all of his anger towards Dumbledore, but at this moment, he was glad for the wizard's presence. Anything to get away from this house.

"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore said, smiling.

"What the blazes is going on down there?" Uncle Vernon yelled, rushing out in his fluffy white bathrobe.

"Mr. Dursley," Dumbledore said jovially, stepping over the threshold. "Do allow me to reintroduce myself. Albus Dumbledore, at your service."

There was a squeak from behind Vernon, and they all looked up the stairs to see Aunt Petunia standing there, looking quite faint.

"Evening," Dumbledore said with a small bow. "I have come to collect Harry. He will not be returning this summer."

"Good," Vernon snapped. "All he does is lay about the house and mope about his godfather."

Harry's heart sank into his stomach, and he saw Vernon quail under Dumbledore's stair.

"I will wait here, Harry, while you pack your things. I trust it will not take long," he added with a shrewd look.

"Tonks," Harry muttered under his breath as he climbed the stairs. She'd been popping by every few days to more or less force feed him, and had probably relayed the message that Harry had barely moved from bed, much less unpacked. It took him all of five minutes to collect his things and make it back to the entranceway.

Dumbledore stood there, whistling merrily as the Dursley's glowered at him. "All set, Harry?"

"Yes, Professor. Are we going to—"

"Not here. Security reasons, and all that—which is why I couldn't write. Now, if you'll follow me. A pleasant evening to you all."

Harry followed him out into the warm night air. "Sir… I can't help but notice that this was a very…er…quick stay at the Dursley's."

"Yes, well… a situation has arisen at Hogwarts that I'd be quite grateful for your help in solving. Plus there are…matters, that we must discuss."

"You mean Sirius's will," Harry said, trying to put as little emotion into his guess as possible.

"Indeed. And on top of both of those things, I'll admit that I feared for my safety if I made you wait any longer. The combined threats of both Miss Tonks and Miss Granger did more to hasten your rescue from Privet Drive than anything."

Harry laughed at this, stuffing his fist into his mouth when the noise rang out along the quiet street. He sniggered, then sobered, realizing that this was the first time he'd had a true laugh in a long while.

"Just here will do. If you'll take my arm"

Harry did so, and a second later felt the unpleasant sensation of being squeezed through a long, narrow tube. He stumbled when he felt his feet touch the cobbles just outside the Three Broomsticks pub.

"Here we are!" Dumbledore said, catching Harry by the arm. "How did you like your first experience with Apparation?"

"I'll…stick to my broom, thanks," Harry wheezed.

Dumbledore smiled sympathetically and ushered him inside. "I'm afraid that this cannot wait."

Harry nodded, feeling a sense of dread come over him. He didn't want to read Sirius's will—didn't want to think about the reality of his godfather being gone. But he squared his shoulders and followed Dumbledore to a table near the back of the pub. He barely paid attention as introductions were made all around, and stared pointedly at the Minister's nose as he read the scroll of paper.

"Lastly," Scrimgeour said. "In addition to my estate, I hereby name Harry heir to the Black line, and wish that he be legally emancipated."

At this, Harry snapped back to attention. "Wha—what does that mean?"

"It means," Scrimgeour explained patiently, "that the Trace can legally be taken off of you. You will be free to use magic outside of Hogwarts after tonight. It also means that any and all magical bindings will be stripped from you, so your magic can operate at full power. You will be a legal adult in the magical world, so you will inherit the titles left to you by your parents, and now the late Sirius Black."

Harry stared open mouthed between the Minister and Dumbledore. "I…what?"

"Just sign here, Mr. Potter."

Harry read through the papers a bit, just to make sure he wasn't signing himself over to be Voldemort's love slave or anything. The paper glowed bright blue for a moment once it was signed, and Harry suddenly felt woozy.

"Not to worry, Lord Baron Potter-Black," the Minister said. "That's just your magic finally having room to breathe. Your parents bound it when you were small—you see it in a lot of families."

Harry sneezed, and the nearest chair caught fire. "Lord, huh? The chair!"

"Er…yes, that can sometimes happen. I shall have Gringotts send you a summary of your titles and estates first thing in the morning. A good evening to you."

Harry shook the man's hand weakly, hiccupping and causing him to turn purple. "Sorry."

"I've seen worse, believe me."

Dumbledore placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Let's get you up to the castle. I'm sure your friends are dying to see you. And then I can apprise you of the unique occurrence that has taken place."

With a nod and another sneeze (that turned a table into a small kangaroo), Harry followed his headmaster out of the pub.

The next day, Harry woke to a ruckus on the stairs. Before he could locate his glasses, the door was flung open, and his two best friends had rushed inside. He tried to burrow back under the blankets, but Ron tugged him out.

"Oh, no you don't," he said, thrusting Harry's glasses into his hand. "We've had to deal with this mess on our own for two days now. You're getting up."

"What's up?" Harry asked, though a yawn.

"Peeves," both of them said.

"Huh?"

"You'll see, Lord Baron Must Fix Everything Around Here," Hermione said, rolling her eyes."Personally, I think Dumbledore probably could've sorted all this out by now, but I really think he likes to watch you do stuff for him."

"Do I even want to know?" Harry asked. "And enough with the Lord Baron stuff."

"Yes, my lord," Ron said, grinning.

Harry slugged him and pulled on a sweater and some jeans.

Hermione didn't bother to look away, but continued to grumble about their headmaster's many deficiencies.

"What's happened to her?" Harry whispered to Ron as they made their way down to the Great Hall.

Ron grinned. "Tonks was staying with us this summer. Extra protection, and all that. She may have had a bit of a bad influence on her and Ginny. And when I say 'bad', I mean 'fantastic'. It's like watching fireworks sometimes."

Harry smiled, but felt a small pang of jealousy knowing that Ron and Ginny had gotten to hang out with Tonks all summer. As they walked, he began to notice something odd about the walls of the castle. "Er…guys?"

"Ah, he's finally noticed," Ron said.

"We'll explain everything over breakfast," Hermione said. "It's the worst in the Great Hall anyway."

It was. The walls seemed to be oozing some sort of blue-purple sludge. Tonks, Dumbledore, McGonagall, and the rest of the Weasleys were sitting at the table, where a light breakfast had been set out.

"Oh gross!" Harry said, poking some of the stuff with his wand. "I don't want to know!" He shook his head. "If it's Peeves, it can't be good."

"Tough luck, Lord Baron Chickenshit," Ginny said, patting the seat between herself and Tonks.

"What is that stuff?"

At this, everyone blushed. Including the twins, which meant this was going to be more awkward than a hippogryff's yearly checkup.

"It came about during your…er…absence at the end of the school year," Dumbledore began as the trio sat and served themselves. "The students, keen on continuing your rather effective revolution, took it upon themselves to come up with some ingenious methods of disruption. One enterprising young second year got hold of Misters Fred and George Weasley's love potions, and decided to play cupid. Besides an upswing in general PDA, the boy…um…missed one of his intended targets and hit—"

"Peeves," Harry groaned. "I didn't think human potions or charms worked on a poltergeist."

"I didn't either. And so far we've been unable to reverse the damage."

"Okay, so that doesn't explain the new décor."

"Well, you see…the potion has Peeves turned into a teenage boy, if you'll excuse the commonly used verbage."

Tonks, Ginny and Hermione sniggered.

"So…wait! You mean that's—"

"Poltergeist sperm. Since Peeves is, in a metaphorical sense, part of the castle, it's er…showing up."

Harry retched, and began scrubbing his wand furiously. It shot off, turning the pitcher of pumpkin juice into a large parrot.

"And that brings me to my next point," Dumbledore began.

"He's hoping leveled up, Super Potter will be able to handle it," Tonks said, spearing another pancake.

"I hoped for everyone's help in this matter."

"What, can I just snap my fingers and…."

Harry snapped his fingers. A second later it was very wet, and hard to breathe. And there were mermaids. He snapped again, and was engulfed in cold and snow. He snapped again.

Ten minutes later, he and the rest of the group were back in the Great Hall, and he was dodging bits of toast being thrown at him.

"You prat, Harry!"

"Potter, what the hell?"

"Was that Reykjavik?"

"Before or after Las Vegas?"

"In any case!" Dumbledore said, ringing out his pointy hat. "Yes. We need to get to the bottom of this so that we can turn our attention to more important matters this year."

"I'm off to the library!" Hermione said. "Come on, Ginny, Ron."

"In the meantime, Harry, you'll be doing wand work training with Tonks."

Ginny choked on her pumpkin juice.

Molly glared at her, but Tonks just winked.

"He should be so lucky. Let's go, Potter."