Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters mentioned in this story, as they are all owned by J.K. Rowling (excpet Moby who is oned by . . himself i guess). Don't sue me!

A/N: My first ever fic EVER! FEEL PRIVLEDGED. this is just a fun fic, i have no idea where its going. I might continue if people like it, if not, oh well, it was a fun, 11:30pm spur of the momment fic which filled in about 10 minute sof my time, so either way i win. i would say no flames, but if your going to flame u wont exactly care whether i wish for them or not, and honestly i don't really mind, so PLEASE REVIEW, good, bad, ugly, all three, whatever you so wish.

hey cool! you can even have lines in this!

"Where the hell is he!"

"How am I meant to know? I've been looking for him for the past hour too you know!"

"Sorry, I'm just a bit pissy."

"A bit pissy? Are you sure your note a girl? PMS would sure explain a lot of things."

"Bugger off."

This conversation could be heard in a compartment on the hogwarts express. The door was slightly ajar see, and many a person walking past could be seen smothering giggles, and, in some of the more dull-witted cases, frowning in confusion, some of course being Crabbe and Goyle, both of which began trying to guess all the different possibilities for what PMS could stand for, finally deciding on Pissy Missy Syndrome.

Hermione and Ron heard what Crabbe and Goyle had decided, and promptly burst into laughter.

It was the 19th of September, a fine Monday morning, and Gryffindor 6th years could be seen Transfiguration (those who had elected to continue with it, that is.) This included Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. All the seats in the class were filled except one, which had been noticeably empty since school began, as Harry Potter had yet to return. No one knew where he was, except it was rumoured that he was just returning from a trip to Australia. . . either that or he was taking some extra time off to deal with a traumatic event during the beginning of the holidays.

It was 9:00 in the morning, and the class had just settled down to read the theory on how to turn a book into a moving figurine of Moby. For all the wizard-born and uneducated muggles, a massive picture of Moby had been stuck onto the board. No one had dared to question Professor McGonagall on the choice after Dean Thomas earned a detention after saying "Why do we have to make a model of a skinhead who named a CD hotel for gods sake?"

It was when class had finally become quiet when there was a disturbance outside. A bang was heard, and then the door banged open, and in stumbled no other than Harry Potter. Well at least they thought it was Harry Potter, he looked decidedly different. For starters, he wasn't in school robes. He was wearing black shorts, a black polo with a green one underneath, black converse with black and green long striped socks, black eyeliner and mascara with a hint of green and a mohawk with green tips – the make up and hair which illuminated his bright emerald eyes. Oh, and he was taller, musclier and had a hot brown tan. The whole class was silent, staring at him in shock. Harry, seemingly oblivious with the looks he was getting, kept stumbling, tripped over a spare chair, landed on his butt, jumped up, brushed off dust, and said "Sorry, there was some guys, and a fridge, and the fridge was stuck, and there were guys pushing and pulling, and a big band, and it was just a whole big fridge story. So yeah, sorry I'm late." And with that he sat down, read the instructions on the board, snorted, and walked out.

tbc. . . . maybe

PLEASE REVIEW