"Gosh," yawned the female Malfoy. "Time for a little break, I think. Okay darlings, sweety time!" There was a huge rush towards the front desk. Harry reluctantly got up to see what all the fuss was about. Malfoy was sitting at her desk, shaking a large pot full of gummy sweets, whilst everybody else waited patiently for her to place three sweets into every outstretched hand. "Now, now, let's not be greedy, darlings. Harvey has just joined us, so he should get first pick." Harry was gently pushed to the front of the crowd. Malfoy smiled sweetly up at him.
"It's, er, Harry actually," Harry muttered. Malfoy's smile became almost impossibly wider.
"What can I get you, sweety-pie?" she chirped. Harry winced, and picked three sweets at random. Malfoy counted them out as she placed them in the palm of his hand, then gave him another one. "Just for my special little boy!" she grinned, then Harry hastily made way for the rest of the unemployed, almost tripping over a desk in the process.
"If she calls me one more name resembling some kind of gummy product, I'm out of here." Harry muttered to himself, popping the sweets into his mouth. Before he realised what was happening, a huge black snake slithered out between his teeth, and disappeared through the doorway. He left his mouth hanging open for a few minutes, then looked around, to see a variety of snakes pouring out of other peoples' mouths. Nobody seemed to be a disgusted or shocked as he was.
"Mmmm," said Ron, licking her lips with relish. "Oops!" Another snake burst out of her mouth, and she laughed with glee.
"What am I doing?" groaned Harry. "I'm stuck in a Job Centre when I'm still thirteen, and I've just attempted eating a sweet that nobody warned me would turn into a snake as soon as it touched my tongue! What's happening?" Nobody had appeared to have heard him.
"Don't you want your other sweets, Harry?" asked Malfoy, looking as concerned as someone would be if Harry's head had fallen off. Harry smiled meekly.
"I'm…saving them till later, thanks."
Malfoy, the real Malfoy, was lying in bed in a make-shift sick bay that had been hastily prepared by Madam Pomfrey. His feet were tingling with tension. How was he supposed to know the effects were permanent? It wasn't his fault that the wretched book didn't mention it. He then began to curse himself for even thinking about the wretched thing in the first place. Granger now expected him to help her figure out a cure that apparently none of the greatest wizards in history could make. Just to save Potter. What had Potter ever done for him? Nothing, as far as he could recall.
"You're not even paying attention, Malfoy," said Hermione sternly. Malfoy yawned.
"I'm listening," he muttered absently. In his mind he was mentally burning Potter at the stake.
"No you're not! You got Harry into this mess, and you're getting him out of it." Hermione was not going to let Malfoy weasel himself out of this one, not in a million years.
"What's the use?" he said. "Poor old Harry's doomed, and there's nothing we can do for him. Why can't you accept that?"
"I cannot and will not accept that, because I know I can save him," hissed Hermione. "And I know that you're going to help, not that it gives me any confidence. Now, it's quite simple. First, we have to find the potion used against the Mirage plant." Malfoy rolled his eyes.
"Been there, done that," he drawled. "Face it, nothing two thirteen year-olds can do is going to be any different from what some of the greatest wizards in history ever tried." Hermione was flicking through the pages of a thick book that she had taken from the library, along with another fifteen others.
"Maybe they just weren't looking in the right place…" Hermione said quietly. Malfoy's face went blank.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Before Hermione could answer, Ron entered the little room, looking very sullen. Malfoy seemed to sink lower into the mattress.
"How bad is it?" asked Hermione, as if Ron had just had an operation.
"Well, he certainly didn't spare me any mercy. I'm being suspended for at least two weeks." Hermione's jaw dropped.
"You can't be serious, right?" Hermione was desperately hoping that Ron would suddenly burst out laughing, and describe how Dumbledore had actually burst into Snape's office and saved the day. However, he didn't.
"I have to pack my bags straight away," Ron muttered glumly. "I suppose I'll see you in a fortnight."
"Oh, Ron!" said Hermione irately. "I needed you to help me work out a cure! How can I with you at your house, in disgrace?"
"Well, I'll try and do some research back there. Let's just hope Harry doesn't batter himself to death while I'm gone. Well, looks like you'll just have him to help you." Ron didn't even glance at Malfoy, who was trying to hide behind Hermione unsuccessfully. He waved half-heartedly, then shuffled away. Hermione turned on Malfoy.
"Er…" he mumbled. Hermione heaved a huge black leather-bound book from the pile, and dumped it on Malfoy's legs.
"Get reading, and get digesting," she ordered, after Malfoy had finished faking his howls of pain.
Harry was at least thankful to leave the absurdly-placed Job Centre and the flamboyant Malfoy behind him. He didn't think he could have put up with Malfoy's constant kisses on the cheeks whenever he answered a question. It didn't help with Malfoy picking on him to answer the question all the time, anyway. Now, he had no idea where female Ron and male Hermione were taking him. They kept saying that he'd see when he got there. Harry looked across the main road, and at the desert on the other side. Well, there didn't seem to be many people there for a start. It hadn't really registered in his mind when he first saw it. In fact, he wasn't quite sure whether it was registering in his mind now. Suddenly, Ron grabbed his arm, and pulled him out of the way of a runaway hospital bed, or something that resembled one. He had given up trying to make sense of the assortment of walking and talking food, animals and household items that were going about whatever their daily business was. Harry looked up. The sky was now bright pink.
"Er, Ron?" Harry said. "There's something I've got to tell you and Hermione." Ron looked at him.
"What?" she asked.
"Well…it's quite hard to explain, and I'm not quite sure how to put it. Could we find somewhere to sit?" He was led to an ordinary enough park bench, which was blocking off the doorway of a groceries.
"What did you want to tell us?" asked Hermione, picking at his two front teeth absently. Harry gulped.
"It's like this…I don't belong here." Ron stared at him for a moment, and burst out laughing.
"Oh, it's all right, Harry! Don't get the impression that you're any more inferior than us! Draco will get us all a job soon, you can…"
"No! He won't!" shouted Harry, drawing a few inquisitive looks from a couple of pears. He wasn't sure whether Ron and Hermione were more confused by his sudden outburst or by the fact he had called Malfoy a "he". "That Malfoy is not Malfoy at all! I don't know how I got here, into this crazy place, but I can tell you that this isn't my old home. And that certainly wasn't my old Malfoy back there."
"Harry…" said Ron. "Are you trying to say that you and Malfoy were once…er, how can I put it?"
"No! I mean, that none of this is real. I come from a place where you, Ron, are male, Hermione is female and Malfoy is almost certainly a male. In fact, as far as I can remember, me and Malfoy are arch enemies. Where I come from, you don't have to get jobs at thirteen. You don't eat sweets that turn into snakes as soon as they touch your tongue, unless they're under a curse or something. You don't get walking and talking large fruit and vegetables. In fact, you get anything but what you get in this world. I desperately need to get back to where I come from. I mean, no offense, but you're starting to freak me out." Ron and Hermione had sat, open-mouthed, all the way through Harry's outburst. They looked at each other, then back at him.
"Are you sure you're all right, Harry?" asked Hermione. Harry sighed, and gave up all hope of ever getting back to reality.
Hermione was now getting as frustrated as Malfoy. She had tried to propel herself further, but ended up reaching more dead ends. Malfoy was being very little help, considering all the guilt that must be on his mind. Hermione slammed the fifteenth dusty book shut, causing Malfoy to cough.
"There's only one thing I can think of," she said wearily. Malfoy looked as if he was about to fall asleep.
"What's that then? And make it quick," he muttered.
"It's just a wild guess, but I'm wondering what'll happen if we give him another dose of the Phantasm potion. It works with other things." Malfoy yawned noisily.
"What things? Give me an example."
"Well…I don't know, but you read stories where it happens."
"What stories? Give me an example." Hermione sighed.
"I don't know which stories! But you do get it. I mean, come on, it's not going to do any more damage, is it?"
"Mmm…" Malfoy mumbled. Hermione prodded one of the bruises on his forehead, and he sat up immediately.
"What did you do that for?" he groaned. "I'll get that Pomfrey sued for allowing you to do this to me."
"Get out of bed, and help me," Hermione ordered. Malfoy looked confused.
"What for?"
"We're going to make up the Phantasm potion," she explained. Malfoy said automatically that he didn't know how, but Hermione was having none of it. She pulled him by the arm out of the bed.
Harry sat miserably on the park bench, alone. Ron and Hermione had wondered off, telling him they'd get him some food. He looked around him. Was this going to be his home for the rest of his life? A world where anything could be possible? He decided, with a sigh, that he would have to get used to it. He couldn't just keep on hoping to get back, because there was no way as far as he could see to do so. He had even tried clicking his heels together three times, but that was no use. Harry looked up as Ron parked herself next to him, and handed over a plastic bag full of something green.
"I got you your favourite," she said kindly. Harry recognised it as the bag he had thrown away from the butcher's shop. Gritting his teeth, he peered inside, and for a split second he thought he had been sick. Then he realised it was just the stuff inside. Did this have to be his favourite?
"Er…thanks, but I think I've gone off it a bit." Harry said, grimacing.
"I don't think you're feeling very well," said Hermione. "I'm sure you'll feel like eating it straight away once you're better. Maybe we should take you to a doctor…" Harry shook his head, and said he just wasn't hungry. He didn't want to think about the kind of strange sights he might see at a doctor's surgery.
"Well," he said brightly. "Where to now?"
"How about back to my place," said Ron. "We could watch a movie."
"Okay," Harry agreed. How bad could watching a movie be?
"All right," said Hermione. "But no more mindless gun-toting Argentinean hunks this time, please."
"I've got just the thing!" said Ron excitedly, leaping to her feet.
As soon as Dumbledore had heard what Hermione and Malfoy were planning to do, he ordered the ingredients of the Phantasm potion to be brought up to the sick bay. He said that Malfoy shouldn't be wandering around with his injuries, but Hermione (and Malfoy) suspected that he didn't think it would be appropriate if Hermione did all the dirty work while Malfoy stayed up in the sick bay. Hagrid brought a petal of the Mirage Plant, holding his nose to stop him inhaling the powerful fumes. The groundskeeper exchanged foul looks with Malfoy, then went into the previous sick bay to take over the duty of steering Harry away from the walls. Hermione wasted no time in mixing up the potion. It was relatively simple: they would give Harry a dose of the potion, and see what it did. At least Harry wouldn't be aware of it if there was some grizzly side-affects when the potion didn't work.
"What do we do if it doesn't work?" said Malfoy, peering into the simmering potion in the cauldron.
"We'll keep looking for a cure," said Hermione wearily. They were alone in the sick bay, Dumbledore had decided that they should be left in peace.
"Yes, but for what?" asked Malfoy. "We don't know what giving him another dose of that potion is going to do to him. And are you sure it hasn't been tried before?"
"None of the books said so," said Hermione, as if that closed the whole situation. "It's ready." They grabbed both handles of the cauldron, and carried it steadily over to the old sick bay on the other side of the corridor. Most of the teachers were gathered outside. Dumbledore made way for Hermione and Malfoy, and opened the door for them. Hermione nodded to Hagrid, who looked as if he had been crying, and watched as the groundskeeper grabbed Harry as firm and as gently as possible, and opened his mouth. Hermione scooped up a small amount of the potion in a cup, and handed it to Malfoy.
"You do it, you seem to be the expert." Malfoy scowled, and brought the cup to Harry's mouth.
"Get better, Potter," he muttered under his breath.
Harry was sitting on Ron's tatty old sofa, trying to get used to the feeling of a spring poking into his spine. They were watching "a good old love story" as Ron had called it. Harry winced as yet another head exploded in a shower of blood and shreds of brain, and the hero with the unconvincing bulges in his arms pumped lead into various two-dimensional characters.
"Ron, I've tried and tried," he shouted above the noise of gunfire. "But I can't work out how this is a good old love story." Ron was transfixed by the bloodfest.
"Didn't you see him kiss that girl?" he asked. Harry was about to point out that "that girl" had suddenly drawn a pistol on the hero, whose name Harry still couldn't remember, almost as soon as they had stopped kissing, and he tore her in two with his anti-tank rifle, but he didn't bother.
"Forget it," he said. Hermione was now snoring loudly, having shut his eyes almost as soon as "The Survivor VII" had started. Suddenly, Harry noticed something wrong. The room was melting.
"Er…Ron?" he said. Ron was no longer sitting next to him. Harry turned to Hermione, but he had gone too. "What now?" he wailed. The walls of the room started fading, to be replaced by yellow walls, which seemed strangely familiar. Then Harry's heart leaped up into his head and danced the Bolero when he saw who was waiting to greet him.
"Hermione!" Harry stood still for a few seconds, then flung his arms around her. Hermione returned the gesture, laughing out of happiness. Harry withdrew, then looked around. He was in the sick bay, and a whole host of old friends were there. Then he saw Malfoy, and hugged him too.
"I never thought I'd be so glad to see you, Malfoy!" Harry exclaimed. Malfoy pushed Harry away, but couldn't help smiling. At least there wasn't a chance of him being a murderer now! Harry was dazed, there was so much he wanted to ask. "But…how did I get back here?" Hermione, still grinning, pointed towards the Phantasm potion.
"The same way you left," she said.
"What's that?" Harry asked, confused. Hermione's smile wavered.
"The Phantasm potion," she said. "Remember?"
"No…" said Harry. "Should I?" Malfoy groaned.
"Don't tell me he's lost his memory now!" he shouted. Dumbledore stepped forwards.
"You do know who you are, don't you?" he asked.
"I'm Harry Potter," said Harry, starting to wonder if he had got back to reality after all. Dumbledore faced the teachers.
"Just a slight case of amnesia," he assured them. "I think Harry's just forgotten how all this came about. I'm sure Hermione and Ron can fill him in on what's been going on." Snape took a step forward.
"I'm afraid Mr. Weasley will not be contributed to restoring Potter's memory," he said smugly. "His malicious assault on Mr. Malfoy here has earned him suspension from school for two weeks. Dumbledore kept smiling.
"But Severus, Harry Potter is back! We have every reason to celebrate as much as if, say, Draco here was cured from the effects of the potion. All right, so it didn't work perfectly, but something close to a miracle has occurred. Ron can have his two weeks back!" Before Snape could protest, Dumbledore had marched off, dragging Harry by the arm, ordering another assembly in the Great Hall. The teachers followed, along with Hagrid, who was crying again. That left just Hermione and Malfoy.
"Er…" said Malfoy.
"You coming?" asked Hermione. Malfoy looked a bit sheepish.
"Well, I was just wondering…" he muttered.
"What?"
"Do you think you could, sort of, not mention to H-Harry how I, er…you know…" he said. Hermione was about to shout back and angry response, when something else came into her head.
"Okay…" she said. Malfoy's eyes widened. "I won't tell him, and I'll make sure Ron doesn't, if you do one thing for me. For us."
"Oh yes, anything!" said Malfoy happily. Hermione smiled slyly.
Harry was the centre of attention in the following feast, which Dumbledore had ordered as soon as he had woken up. He had decided to tell Ron and Hermione about his adventure first. They couldn't help laughing when Harry described in vivid detail the female Malfoy. Then had come Harry's turn to ask them what had been happening whilst he was in the mad world. Ron and Hermione had looked at each other, then told him how he had accidentally taken a dose of the Phantasm potion when he had mixed it up with the Grungle potion in Snape's lesson. They made sure to get it into his head that Snape wasn't cross or anything, he was just glad that he wasn't going to get sued. Therefore, everything pretty much worked out well.
Oh, yes, what about Malfoy?
"Put some effort into it!" shouted Filch. "When people go to use a toilet, they expect it to be clean! I thought you volunteered to do this job!" Malfoy, as he scrubbed, was thinking up a million curses to place on Potter and his miserable little friends.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well, that just about wraps it up. Sorry about the spellings in the third part, it was pretty late, and I wasn't concentrating very hard. I'm not sure whether to do another Harry Potter fanfic. I'll probably have to think about it for a long time before I do one. Meanwhile, anybody fancy a Zelda story? Or anything else? Oh yeah, thanks for all your nice reviews. Special thanks to ChinChilla for convincing me it's okay to steal ideas off people.
DISCLAIMER:
*ring ring*
SCULLY: Mulder it's me, listen to me. I've got some vital information - according to these files, you are on totally the wrong tracks.
MULDER: What do you mean, Scully?
SCULLY: I mean that the characters in the above fanfic were not created by the Ali N. virus at all.
MULDER: Well, then who did create them?
SCULLY: J.K. Rowling.
MULDER: I can't believe that. She killed my mother!
SCULLY: Mulder, believe me. I've got it down here on paper. And, Mulder?
MULDER: What?
SCULLY: Apparently, we are fictional characters created by Chris Carter.
MULDER: I'VE BEEN USED!!
SCULLY: Mulder…we all have. This is just a hundredth of a much wider conspiracy, to fool people into thinking that someone else made up thousands upon thousands of other fictional characters.
MULDER: Okay, hold on while I do a 180 degrees turn in my car.
SCULLY: Oh yeah, there's something else, too.
MULDER: What?
SCULLY: There's some kind of bounty hunter in the back of your car. Watch your neck, Muld-
MULDER: AAAAAAAARRRGGGGHHHHHSPPPPPLLLLUUUUTTTTEEERR!!!!!!!
SCULLY: Mulder, are you okay?
BOUNTY HUNTER: Is the answer to your question worth dying for? Is that what you want?
SCULLY: Bye.