For the most part, Harry and Hermione had regained most of their mental capabilities after the sudden departure of Professor Riddle. The hunt was on for the new professor, but there was another matter that was far easier to attend to. To this end, Dumbledore stood at the front of the the Great Hall, speaking loudly, "It has come to the attention of the staff that we have been neglecting your physical health and well-being. And to that effect it is my pleasure to announce that we're going to be offering a mandatory health and fitness course instructed by the new professor... RICHARD SIMMONS!"
At the proclamation, thumping music filled the air and a skinny white man with a huge fro, and sparkly shirts over a pair of OH DEAR GOD WHERE ARE THEY short shorts. Harry felt some part of his brain cringe when the man winked at him playfully. Even as he watched, a magical force swelled from the bizarrely dressed man, washing over the students like a wave. "HELLO EVERYBODY! LET'S START SWEATIN' TO THE OLDIES!"
When Draco joined in behind Professor Simmons, wearing the exact same outfit, Harry felt a desperate need to take his spoon and gouge out his eyes. Several of the other guys at his table seemed to have similar thoughts on the matter, as they were clutching their spoons with white knuckles. They were denied their chance at self-inflicted blindness by an order from Dumbledore and the house elves removing the dinner.
After five minutes, Harry stood up, and unlike most of the others, marched straight out the Great Hall and to the special padded dorms he'd been given since his return to Hogwarts. It was a little troublesome to walk up and down all those stairs, but he felt safe in that little room at the very top of Gryffindor tower. The quiet giggles from Hermione's room alerted him to the fact his friend was already in her room.
Perhaps she would know of the best way to remove the images that were currently burning themselves onto his brain. He wasn't sure what was worst, Draco and Professor Simmons dressing exactly the same, or the fact that Crabbe and Goyle joined in moments later after only a slight pout from Malfoy.
Speaking of Malfoy, he was some kind of weirdo, always trying to pick a fight with him and Hermione, but his brain merely whispered the word paddle through his lips one day, and Malfoy shut up. In fact if Harry had to describe it, he'd have said the boy all but bowed at his feet groveling for mercy.
The only problem is that every time he tried to figure out what his mind had meant about paddles and Malfoy, it would slam up a wall to stop him from even trying to continue on... and for some reason Dumbledore would show up offering him some lemon drops. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy the sour candies, but he was quite frankly growing sick of them.
Settling down on his bed, he awaited the arrival of Dumbledore to check in on him. Somehow he knew that everything would be alright after the headmaster came, the urge to gouge out his eyes would recede, and Hermione would stop giggling like a madwoman again, and they could get on with their school life. As his eyes slid shut, he realized that there was a lot of instances in his memories where holes coincided with a Dumbledore visit. But he knew to poke around with those was to invite disaster.
He was perfectly fine with leaving the holes, so long as he remained sane and functional in the world of wizards. Though he would have liked to know why he tasted the color purple sometimes, and about those dreams of a strange snake man curled up in a fetal position clawing his eyes out.
Maybe he should talk to the Headmaster when he comes in later.
