A/N hello! so, I am still alive. I know, has been a crazy long time between updates and afraid I don't have a valid excuse- gonna plead "was abroad for a year and then stymied by severe writers block". Anywhoo, here is another dose of HP madness. jts, I will eventually do all of the books (even if it kills me) so feel free to let me know if there are any particular scenes you would like me to include :) hope wherever you are you are having a good day!

….

"Oh my god! You guys have a flying car?!"
"Yep- well, technically it's our dad's but-"
"Is it syst-o-matic?"
"Umm, I guess…"
"Hydro-matic?"
"What-"
"Ultro-matic?!"
"We don't-"
"Why! It's Greased Lightning!"
Perhaps their rescue had come a little too late to save the last shreds of Harry's sanity…

…

The, once again stolen, car rose carefully into the air, both boys holding their breath until they had cleared the rooftops. Harry stared wide eyed at the street below, before turning slowly to Ron and taking a deep breath.
"I think I'll try defying gravity!"
The redhead jumped at the sudden outburst, "Oh god Harry don't start that up again."
"Oh you, pretty chitty bang bang, chitty chitty bang bang we love you…"
"I am begging you- please remember that you really cannot sing!"
There was a brief moment of quiet…
"On the road again, can't wait to get on the road again…"

The sound of Ron's head hitting the steering wheel repeatedly was at least in time to the beat…

…

Lockhart suddenly appeared just as they were about to head into the greenhouse with Professor Sprout, asking to borrow Harry for a moment and trying to steer him away from the group. Unfortunately for him, he was dealing with the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-Difficult. Naturally Harry decided to dig his heels in.
"Stranger danger!"
"Wait- what?" the megawatt smile slipped for a second.
"Stranger danger! Help! Professor Sprout- I need an adult!"
"Now really Harry-"

Professor Sprout came over to investigate the commotion, only to be promptly surprised as the small Gryffindor decided to hide behind her, peeping around at the somewhat ruffled blond.
"I am not that stupid enough to just go walking off with some random man."
"What are you talking about- we met the other day. I am Gilderoy Lockhart: Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League, and five times winner of Witch Weekly's most charming smile award! And one of your teachers this year."

The boy eyed him up and down for a moment, then shook his head. "Nope- don't recognise or remember you."
Lockhart looked as if he had been hit in the head with a bludger, not making a move as Harry trotted into the greenhouse after his classmates.
Was it possible that there was someone who didn't know who he was…?

…

It was later in his class that Lockhart began to wish that was perhaps the case. His attempts to get Harry to act out particular sections of his books had not gone exactly to plan…
"Alright Harry, I want you to pretend to be a werewolf."
The-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Apparently-Be-Uncooperative stood there staring at the professor with a polite smile on his face.
"Come on Harry- act like a werewolf!"
"But I am professor- it is currently the middle of the day and nowhere near the full moon. Therefore, as a werewolf, I am basically a regular human."
"Umm, well pretend that it is the same situation as in my book. Imagine the scene, and then attack me so I can defeat you."
"Attack you?"
"Yes, yes attack me- come on Harry you really must participate." He could see the attention of his audience wandering for a minute, before thankfully the boy shrugged in apparent agreement. The professor blew a faint sigh of relief and returned to his narrative.
"Alright, so I bravely approached the werewolf who was simply waiting to attack, lunging at me as I drew my wand and exclaimed-"

There was a sudden string of pained expletives and an astonishingly crude vocabulary as one Harry Potter sharply kicked the shin of his defence professor, sending the man crumpling to the ground in what was to be fair, a legitimate form of attack.

The student looked down in confusion at the still swearing teacher, ignoring the eruption of laughter from the rest of the class. "Professor, that doesn't match up with what you said in the book."

…..

Professor McGonagall was marching briskly down the corridor to have a word with Dumbledore about the recent attacks, only to stop short as she overheard language used which would have made a drunken sailor blush. Full of righteous fury, she rounded the corner to confront such dreadful behaviour, to pull up in confusion as she came across what looked like a study group of second years.

They brightened as they saw her, asking if she could answer a question that was puzzling them over the best phrasing to use when facing a werewolf and stating their options of two extremely detailed and inventive rounds of swearing. Further investigation revealed that Professor Lockhart had been the one to teach them such language, at which point the formidable witch decided to make a small detour via the defence classroom to discuss appropriate behaviours around students…

...

Harry tuned to Ron and Hermione as they walked down the deserted corridors on their way back from the Death Day celebration. "Guys, do you ever hear that little voice inside your head that tells you something is wrong or you've forgotten something?"
"Umm, yeah sometimes- like when I know I should have written another couple of inches on my homework..."
"Or when Fred and George tell me that their latest scheme could never backfire if I help them out..."
"Right, well does it ever sound to you like a cold murderous voice expressing intense bloodlust and hunger? No? Just me? Fair enough then..."

…

Harry stared in shock for a moment at the self-proclaimed teenaged Voldemort that was slowly solidifying in front of him, listening to his venomous recounting of his past. Finally, Riddle's monologue ended, and he waited expectantly for the younger boy's reaction.
"So… let me get this straight. Driven by severe teenage angst and absent father issues, you purposefully created various pseudonyms from an anagram of your name (how long did that take by the way? I mean, did you literally just sit there until you found one that sounded bad guy-ish enough?) and then made other school boys call you this? You do realise that a proper nickname can only be assigned to you by somebody else right? Otherwise, well you are just creating an empty title so as to fulfil your clearly deep emotional issues in a drastic overcompensation as you search for a sense of identity-"

It was at that point that the homicidal teenager in question managed to close his mouth which had dropped open as his psyche was dissected and gathered enough wits to order the Basilisk to attack…

…