"Snape! I'm ready for my Occlumency class!" Harry shouted as he entered the dungeon. He looked around the dank room.
"Snape?"
He was met only with a scary, impossible wind.
Harry walked around the dungeon. "Snape would pick the dungeon, because he likes mold so much."
On Snape's desk was a large stone basin that Harry recognized as the Pensieve. It's mysterious swirlingness beckoned to him. He reached out his hand to touch it's silvery smoke. He looked over his shoulder at the door.
"Well, pretty much no way this can have negative consequences," said Harry. He touched the Pensieve.
Harry now stood in the Great Hall, and his ears were filled with the scratching of quills. He put his hands on his hips, and surveyed the dream he had entered.
"Well, isn't that convenient," said Harry, "Everyone looks just like a smaller version of themselves, so I can easily identify who's who."
Harry wandered about, laughing at people, as if he were going through an old highschool yearbook. When the students began turning in their papers, Harry filed out with them. He wove his way through the crowd, searching for Snape. He found him, walking a short ways in front of Sirius, James, and Remus.
"Wow," said Harry, "My Dad's so great."
One Depressing Trip Through Snape's Childhood Memories Later
"Wow," said Harry, "My Dad really sucked."
"Yes, he did," said Snape in a tone of painful restraint. Harry spun around.
Snape placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, and they flew out of the now misty memory.
Harry now stood before Snape, back in his dim dungeon. Snape was shaking with rage, his eyes boring into Harry's soul.
"We are done with these classes, Potter."
"I would imagine so," said Harry.
xxx
Several hours later, Harry found himself in the much less bitter company of Professor McGonagall, discussing his future career prospects with her. All fifth year students were required to do this in light of the upcoming dreaded O.W.L.s.
McGonagall looked at Harry, seemingly already disappointed with what he hadn't said yet.
"So, Harry, what sort of careers have you been considering?"
"Well," said Harry, "I have a plan."
"And what does this plan entail?"
"Well," said Harry, "I'm going to play baseball in America, but I'll put my wand inside my bat so that I hit a home run every time, and become the greatest baseball player who ever lived!"
McGonagall took off her spectacles, and placed them very delicately onto her desk.
"Harry," said McGonagall.
"Yeah?" said Harry expectantly.
McGonagall sighed. "That is not a legitimate career decision."
Harry shrugged. "I got tons of other really good ideas like that one."
McGonagall sighed again. "Do all of them relate, in some way or another, to using magic to get ahead in Muggle society?"
Harry leaned back in his chair, stroking his non-existant beard. "Perhaps."
McGonagall gave him a stern look.
"Perhaps... they do," said Harry.
"Harry, it is time for you to consider your future," said McGonagall.
"McGonagall, I don't really need too. I'll just fight Voldemort for a living."
McGonagall raised her eyebrows.
"I mean, I'll get paid to do that, right?"
"No, you will not be paid to do that, Harry."
"Seriously?" said Harry.
"Yes, Harry, seriously."
"I wouldn't be on, like, some sort of federal pay roll?"
Umbridge poked her head in the door. "The Ministry does not support such nonsense."
Harry scowled.