Hi. It's me, the crazy fanfic writer. I've gotten my hands on the plot of the next Harry Potter book, and it is totally unlike any rumors. Because I'm such a nice person, I'm going to tell you the plot here. I won't tell you the title, though; let JK keep some surprises.
I'm Harry Potter. You may have heard of me, as I have done a few things people know about. Anyway, I'm here to tell you the story of my fourth year at Hogwarts.
I was very anxious to start fourth year, because I had to spend the summer with the Dursleys, of course. So I was very relieved when September the first rolled around and I was able to go to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. I slid into the seat next to Ron Weasley, my best friend. Hermione was sitting across from us.
"I hope we have a better year than last year," Hermione said. "I've got Crookshanks in a basket, Ron, he won't eat your little owl."
"Good," said Ron. "And there are no homicidal maniacs after you this year, Harry."
"Sirius isn't a homicidal maniac, and he wasn't after me, you know that. And Pettigrew, who is a homicidal maniac, probably is after me. But no one believes us, of course." Just then the door swung open. We looked up.
"Sirius!" I yelled. "What are you doing here? Are you nuts?" He looked a lot better; he'd shaved and put on some weight since I last saw him. He grinned at me.
"No, I've cleared my name. Caught that Pettigrew and made him confess in front of the Ministry. They couldn't throw me back in Azkaban after that." He laughed.
"That's great! Does this mean that I can stay with you for the holidays?"
"Of course. Actually, I meant to tell you about my new job. I'm teaching at Hogwarts."
"Really? Defense Against the Dark Arts, I suppose?" Hermione looked really interested.
"Actually, no. I'm teaching Potions."
"Yes!" Ron and I both yelled. "Did Snape get sacked? Did he quit?"
"He didn't get the Dark Arts post?" Ron asked worriedly.
"No, he accepted Headmastership of a small school somewhere in –let me see – Northern Transylvania, I think. I am reliably informed that as he vanished, he was muttering things like 'Never see Potter again!' and laughing like a maniac." We all laughed at that.
"So, who's got Defense?" Hermione, ever practical, asked.
"Me," said a voice. We turned and saw Professor Lupin.
"Professor!"
"You? Great!"
"How? I thought you said –"
"Well, after I got letters from almost every student, saying they wanted me back –Dumbledore got copies – he asked me to come back. Even some Slytherins asked me, if you can believe it. So Dumbledore agreed."
"That is great," I said. "I can't believe it!"
"Welcome back," Dumbledore said after the Sorting was over. "I have quite a few items to go over. First, we welcome back Professor Lupin, who has not resigned after all –" here wild cheering interrupted him. "Also, Sirius Black has agreed to fill the Potions position, Professor Snape having moved on to greater things. Professor McGonagall, as you may have noticed, is not here. She eloped over the summer with Hagrid, the gamekeeper, and they are raising hippogryphs in Australia. Her spot will be filled by the late James Potter." I was stunned. Staring around, though, I saw a ghost who really did look exactly like my dad.
"Um, Harry? You just turned white." Ron said.
"Breathe, Harry, breathe." Hermione reminded me.
"I didn't know your dad was a ghost," Ron said interestedly.
"Neither did I," I said. Dumbledore was continuing.
"Also, we have a new Charms professor, Professor Flitwick having left for somewhere warmer. The ghost of Lily Potter will have that post." He sat down. I turned white again.
"I am not sure what to say," Hermione admitted. "Kind of strange. But you can talk to them!"
"Yeah," I said. "This will be odd." As soon as dinner was over –though I didn't eat a bite – I pushed my way over to Sirius and Remus, who were having a discussion with my parents' ghosts.
"Ah, there you are, Harry," Dad said. "We were about to go looking for you."
"You guys are ghosts?" I asked.
"Sure, Harry. Why not?" Mom smiled at me.
"Then why haven't you showed up before this?"
"We were on vacation in the Bahamas," Dad said. "It's pretty tiring business, being a ghost."
"A very dull life, I suppose, eh Prongs?" Sirius grinned.
"Indeed it is, Padfoot old bean."
"Harry, it's getting late. You'd better go to bed," Mom said. I nodded and headed off. Ron and Hermione tried to talk to me, but I didn't answer. It had been a very weird day.
Things just kept getting weirder. It's bad enough to have both of your parents teaching at your school, but when they're dead to boot, it is awful. Half the time, I'd find them hanging around the staff room with Sirius and Remus, reminiscing. The other half, they were following me around.
"That's not enough lunch," Mom would say.
"Harry! Don't slouch on your broom!" Dad yelled. And Quidditch. Sirius had been made Head of Gryffindor House, and he made me Quidditch Captain, which wasn't too bad, except that Malfoy was a pain. So Ron became the new Keeper, and we'd try to practice, but we kept getting interrupted by either my dad, making suggestions, or Sirius flying through on his motorcycle (he'd found it under Hagrid's bed) or geese that my mom's class had made turn green and fly in circles or something. We couldn't even try to get into mischief, because Mom always seemed to know and scolded us, and Dad and Sirius and Remus helped Fred and George, and they were worse than ever!
"This year is great," Ron said one night. "I mean, look! We've got great teachers, and they're fun –your dad is cool, Harry, even if he is dead."
"Yeah," I mumbled. "But if they aren't correcting me, they're hanging out with Sirius and Lupin and talking about the 'good old days' and how horrible they were at school."
"Your mom is really neat, Harry," Hermione said. "She was Head Girl, but she told me all the times she got into trouble and the pranks they all played… I want to be just like her."
"She's dead," I reminded.
"Other than that, I mean."
"At least Voldemort hasn't come back this year." I stared at Ron.
"Ron! You said Voldemort!"
"Yeah, sure. I mean, your parents and Sirius and Lupin say it all the time, so I guess there's nothing so bad about it. You think after Fred and George leave, they'll teach me some tricks?" I gave up and walked out.
Halfway down the corridor, I ran into Voldemort.
"Oh, not you again," I muttered and ran for the staff room. Sure enough, Mom, Dad, Sirius and Remus were all talking.
"And then, he said, 'oh no, the other one!'" Sirius said, and they all started laughing.
"Hey! Mom! Dad! Listen, it's-"
"Harry! You should be in bed. Don't you have Quidditch tomorrow?" Mom was scolding me furiously.
"No, listen! It's "
"Harry, go to bed now," Dad said. "I know you like roaming around but tonight isn't a good night. We'll all go tomorrow night, okay?"
"But-"
"Quiet, and go to bed," Sirius said. He put a silencing spell on me! So I left. I'll do it myself, again, I thought. After all, I have taken Voldemort on a few times. Then Draco Malfoy leapt out from behind a pillar.
"Hello, Potter," he sneered. "Been visiting the ghosts again?" I couldn't say anything. "Oh, I see. Silencing spell. Well, this will make it better." He whispered something and pointed his wand at me. Suddenly, I was on the floor in the full-body bind. He ran off, laughing. I lay there, hoping Voldemort would finish me off before anyone else found me lying here like this. Then Dumbledore appeared. He fixed me up.
"Voldemort's here," I blurted.
"Oh, I know. I talked to him. He's reformed and is moving to Alaska under the name of Sanders. He'll be good from now on." I stared at him.
"That's it. Life is too crazy. I'm leaving." And I walked out.
I stole Sirius' bike and took the Cloak and my wand. I went to Gringotts, took out all my money, and headed for Africa, where I hide for a few years. I haven't been back, either, although I have traveled quite extensively. Now I'm living in Alaska, with Voldemort, but he says to call him Joe. We go ice fishing every day, and he promised that if anyone shows up to bother me, he'll zap them. And nobody would recognize me; I shaved my head and dyed it purple, then I got a big tattoo on my forehead that hid that scar. Nobody recognizes me. I hear they think I'm dead. I don't care. I just couldn't take it.
Who could?
Okay, so maybe this isn't what's going to happen, but it's kind of funny, isn't it? This is a direct result of a dinner conversation in a restaurant with my family – we were eating pancakes and discussing HP and, well, this idea came about as the result. So the moral is, don't eat dinner with your family. Er, maybe that isn't the moral, anyway, who cares? I'm tired, so I'll stop rambling now.