Chapter 35

Drum Roll Please

Harry headed up to Professor Dumbledore's office the morning of the third week of school followed by his guards. "Hello Professor," he said, sitting down in his seat in front of the desk. "Are we moving away from Occlumency yet? I'm getting very good at it."

"I know. Actually you're going to classes today. I have a meeting with your soon to be father-in-law."

"Mr. Cameron?" Harry smiled. "What about?"

"The American's are blaming us for the destruction done to their cities. Merlin forbid we set Voldemort lose from our control," Dumbledore said sarcastically, wandering the room.

"Does that mean American President Bush will be there?" Harry asked, sitting at the end of his seat.

Dumbledore looked over at him to catch him quickly trying to hide the look of excitement. "That would make sense as we're visiting his country. Why?"

"Do you think I could come with? I've so wanted to meet the U.S. President since I was eight years old and a girl named Ash introduced me to American culture."

"I've heard that you have a lasting grudge against the American's," Dumbledore said.

"It was a lie! Who told you that?" Harry cried defensively, putting on his best act.

"Cameron," he said calmly, not falling for Harry's dramatics.

"He doesn't know what he's talking about. I love the Americans. Especially President Bush. His use of the English language is so… interesting."

"Then why was it prudent that Cameron point out your sending out for American newspapers so you could gouge out the eyes of any politicians."

"That's an outright lie. You should take me with you to the America's so that I can talk to Cameron about this," Harry said seriously, before smiling childishly.

"I don't know if Bush will want to see you. You'll have to behave yourself."

"I'm not five Professor."

"Yes, but you're like your father. And he's twenty-three now and he still can't keep his pranks to himself."

"I will be the most well mannered seventeen year old they ever met from England."

"I suspect as much. Are you going dressed like that or would you like to change first?" Dumbledore asked, eyeing Harry's leather jacket and black jeans.

"You mean I can go?"

"I guess so. As long as you don't try to gouge anyone's eyes out."

"Never. And for your information, I like this outfit but if it makes you feel better I will leave the jacket."

"No, by all means if you wish to portray yourself as a punk then go ahead."

"Then I will, because that's exactly what I am."

"You're supposed to be a proper and prominent member of society. Not a hooligan."

"Punk. Not hooligan."

"I guess we're leaving now then. We'll take a portkey to Cameron's so that we can pick him up."

"Goodie."

They took their portkey and ended up in the library of Bonnie's house. Harry smiled at the comfort this house always gave him, especially this room, where Bonnie spent a lot of her time when alone. Now that he thought about it they were both spending an awful lot of time on their own these days.

He was brought out of his thoughts when Cameron entered the room. "St. Jim—Harry," he quickly corrected, making Harry smile. Cameron coughed. "Harry, what are you doing here?"

"I'm coming to meet President Bush with you," Harry smiled innocently.

Cameron looked to Dumbledore. "He asked very nicely."

"He has serious political issues with Bush. More then he did with Clinton. And his rein as U.S. president ended with a near impeachment because he had affair with an intern. And we all know Harry's feelings toward sex."

"He deserved the hurtful letter I sent him. I heard from a reliable source that he cried. I didn't tell him I was an eight year old," Harry told them.

"Harry, you can't come. I'd be afraid you'd attack someone," Cameron said.

"Please, I won't. I promise. I just want to meet him. I won't touch anyone," Harry said.

"What's the rule I taught you when you eight?"

"When in the presence of the politicians, don't speak unless spoken to. And if you have an opinion, save it for Christmas."

"Are you going to stick to that?"

"You're going to make me stick to an eight year old rule?" Harry whined.

"Yes, because you haven't changed much in this category. I know you'll fight with Bush till he's crying."

"Fine," he agreed, sighing heavily.

"Good. We should get going then. I really love this portkey invention. I don't have to waste five hours on a plane and then all that time in a car to get to the White House."

"We're going to the White House," Harry smiled, dazed in his own little world.

"Harry, if you anger secret service—"

"I can't anger the secret service. Everyone loves me," Harry flaunted.

"Sorry, but the Americans don't like you as much as everyone else does," Cameron said as Dumbledore held out the portkey.

"Well they're going to like me even less after today," Harry smiled, reaching for the portkey as well.

They portkeyed right in front of the White House and Harry stared in aww at the grand white house. Not because it was big, his own parent's house was bigger then this. It was because ever since the horrendous "Ashley Incident" he had been obsessed with the Americans. Not in an "I love America" kind of an obsession, more of an "I hate America" obsession. Ashley had an obsession with Britney Spears and all American pop culture and then she also had an obsession with Harry, her leader, St. Jimmy. She tried to shove the two together. The worst of all stalkers, one that snuck her way right into your group. She was crazed, but she was taken away by police and doctors. Ever since she had left Harry had not only hated America for thinking it was better then everyone else and for reasons that just were, he also hated it because it was one of the causes for Ashley's absolute insanity. And he was usually a friend to his follower's insanity but Ashley was so far gone there was no coming back.

He reached into his pocket in his boot and took out the little black book and opened it up. It was a list of all things he planned to do before he died. Number one: Take over the world, was crossed out because he figured this was as far as he would ever get in that department. Number two: Make a male U.S. President cry. He had apparently made Clinton cry but he hadn't been present. There also had never been a female president but you never knew about the future and he wanted to be specific. He smiled at his little notebook.

"Forty-one things down, 632 more before death," he said.

Cameron looked over his shoulder. "Why is Bonnie number four?" he asked, pointing to the number.

"Because I really wanted to make the president cry?"

"Why is killing Britney Spears before marriage?" he questioned.

"Because I really hate her," Harry growled. Then stopped and started smiling again. "But that's for later. Let's go meet the new president," he said excitedly.

\-\

"Harry, you'll never be allowed in the White House again," Cameron said as they walked into the Head's common room.

"What did Harry do?" Bonnie asked, as she and Ginny sat on the couch with homework and Ron and Hermione were on the floor by the fire.

"Pet, it was so awesome," Harry said excitedly, running toward her. He sat down beside her and sighed with a huge smile on his face. "I made the president cry. It was so cool. I was just talking to him about my opinion on the war and how he only got to be president because of his father and how he had never really done anything to get his position and he just started crying. I was kicked out of course and I had to wait in the waiting room while Cameron and Dumbledore finished up their business but it was so awesome. I feel so happy right now."

"I'm very happy for you sweetie but you really shouldn't have done that?"

"I don't care. I'll write him a nice little letter later. But for the moment I feel really, really good. Like that time I beat up Rick."

"You know he wasn't really crying," Cameron said.

"Don't ruin this for me. His eyes were watering and he was crying on the inside. You know he was. And I'm going to bask in this glorious moment for at least a day. It will make me feel better. I almost fell down the stairs yesterday and I think I deserve to bask."

"Fine. But the next time we go to chat with politicians you won't be invited."

"But I enjoy it now. If you go to see someone other then the U.S. president I won't be trying to make them cry."

"I'll think about it. But you didn't follow the rules."

"I will next time. I promise. You can trust me."

"We'll think about. I have to go. I have a meeting with the Queen."

"Oh, will you tell her I said hello," Harry said. "She just sent me the nicest letter. Tell her I hope to write her soon."

"You can get along with the queen but not the president."

"Well the Queen never did anything to me," Harry said.

Cameron sighed. "Bye everyone. Bye sweetheart."

"Bye sir."

"Bye daddy."

After the two older men left Harry turned to the group. "Where are Fish and the twins?"

"They went to wander somewhere around the school," Bonnie said.

"Why are they by themselves?"

Nobody answered and they all hid behind their homework. Harry looked at Ginny who was hiding in her book. Harry sighed and left the room to head up to his bedroom. He searched his trunk and found the marauder's map before leaving the Head's dorms completely. He tapped the map with his wand and went searching for Fish and the twins.

He found them ten minutes later with his father, Sirius and Remus in James's office. "You didn't want to talk to Ginny so you went to find my dad?" Harry asked as he stood in the doorway.

"Your dad is cool," Fish said, pulling his feet onto the couch.

"You didn't tell us you were avoiding your girlfriend. What happened?" Sirius asked, leaning forward on the desk.

"I mentioned that it would be the first time I sleep alone, which it really isn't because I didn't really sleep with a lot of girls over the summer."

"You mentioned that you slept around to your serious girlfriend?" Sirius gasped, knowing from experience. "Even to flings you're not supposed to mention other girls."

"It was an accident. It's not like I wanted to hurt her feelings," Fish defended.

"Well you've screwed yourself into a hole. Ginny is precious and a year younger then you and she probably thinks that she's too inexperienced for you because you've been with so many girls and now she feels like you'll be expecting something that she can't provide."

They all looked at Sirius surprised that he had come up with all of that.

"Trust me. I know what I'm talking about. I've been through this before with this girl named Giselle. She was hot."

"That's great Sirius. But how am I supposed to fix it? What did you do?"

"Well I didn't make your mistake she just told me that was how she was feeling. Then we got drunk and had sex."

Harry looked at his father. "Is he drunk?"

"I don't know," James sighed, his elbow resting on the desk and his cheek in his hand.

Sirius sighed. "Why don't you try asking her what's bothering her and then she's going to tell you it's the fact that you're some kind of "slut" right? And then you're going to tell her that you're not anymore and that ever since you met her you realized that, now that you have her, you don't need anyone else. And something like she's better then any of the girls you've ever dated because she's real, she's not a slut, and she's much prettier. And then you have to tell her something personal about yourself. I once told a girl that I was a sex addict. It wasn't true but that's a personal disease to have."

"I can tell you have many strange dating stories, Sirius," Fish remarked.

"I do. I once dated this woman who was a very serious smoker. And she did this trick for me where she smoked her cigarette without using her mouth—"

"That's disgusting Sirius," Remus interrupted.

"Sorry."

"But what personal thing am I supposed to tell Ginny?" Fish asked.

The other six looked at each other and then at Fish. "Fish, come on," Harry said; "it's not really that hard to think of something now is it?"

Fish thought for a second then looked up at them. "That's something only you and my sister know. I can't tell her."

"Don't your parents know?" James asked.

"My father started calling me Fish because he's always drunk and he doesn't know better and my mother forgot my real name after her stroke seven years ago."

"So then it's really personal. You care about Ginny though and she knows your name is personal for you and if you tell her she'll know she means something to you."

"And if it doesn't, and this was really the end for us, it's going to be all over the papers with whatever Harry did that day."

"I don't think Ginny would spread your sad name all over the papers. She's not evil. You've been dating her; you should know she's not as cruel as to just sell out your poor name to the papers," Harry reminded him.

"People can surprise you. Remember Ashley? We thought she was sane once you know."

"Yeah, I thought about her today when I was with the President."

"You were with the President of the U.S?" Fish asked. "Did you make him cry?"

"Yes," he said excitedly. He stopped. "But that's not the point. It's your relationship we're talking about and I was really happy about it so you're not breaking up. I don't like your slutty girlfriends."

"You didn't meet half of them."

"Better not say that. Ginny might walk in."

"That wasn't funny Harry."

"It was kind of funny actually. And if you want Ginny back this is what you have to do and I want you to want Ginny back. If she decides that your name isn't enough I'll obliviate her for you."

"Fine. I'll do it tomorrow at breakfast," Fish agreed.

"Why don't you do it right now?" James asked.

"Because I don't want to right now."

"But if you tell her now you could be making out by tomorrow and you can start doing your homework," Harry explained.

"Sirius did my homework for me," Fish said.

"Why?"

"Because I can't write an essay."

"Practice makes perfect."

"I don't like what school does to you Harry. You're so scholarly. When you teach on the streets you swear and yell at people. I haven't heard you swear at anyone."

"Because there are professors everywhere."

"You used to swear at Cameron."

"Since when have you been allowed to call him Cameron?"

"Since he's not around I feel I can call him whatever I want. Come on Harry. You can swear still right?"

"It's not funny Fish. I don't want to swear right now."

"Come on Harry. You know you do. What's stopping you? If you give me a swear word I'll go tell Ginny my name right now."

Harry sighed and thought for a second. "You're a bloody fucking German helmet, Fish now go tell Ginny your name and convince her you're not a gimp." He smiled. "Happy now?"

"Very. I'll go right now," Fish said, standing up.

"What's a gimp?" Sirius asked.

"Slang for a sex slave, particularly one dressed in black leather or such apparel of a sexual nature."

"Where did you hear that one?" Remus asked.

"I made it up in 1997. Along with a beautiful poem to remember the day." He started to follow Fish out of the room. "I once met a gay gimp, with a very big limp." He looked down at his cane. "Stupid cane. Reminds me of Gimp the limping gay pimp." Harry laughed as he followed Fish out of the door with Tim and Tom following behind.

James looked at Remus. "Did he ever mention meeting a pimp before now? How did he meet a pimp?"

\-\

Harry and the three headed back to the commons while Fish nervously fiddled with his hands. He had been ashamed of his name ever since he figured out what a name was and what that meant for him. He had proclaimed that he would never tell anyone what his name was after his sister had mocked him mercilessly about it. Then came Harry and Harry had to know everything, not because his friend had asked but because Fish thought that he deserved to know. He was his best friend and Harry hadn't made fun of his name but he feared someone else might. He knew just by common sense that his mother must have hated him from birth because of the name she'd dubbed him with.

They walked up to the dorms and Harry said the password and they all went in. The residents looked up at the doorway. "What?" Harry asked. He moved Fish forward. "Ginny, Fish has something he wants to talk to you about," Harry said.

"Fish, I don't—"

"It won't take long. I just want to talk. It'll only be a few minutes," Fish said shyly, which he never was.

"Alright."

"Can everyone else leave? It's kind of private," Fish asked.

"Of course we can. Come on. If I can make it up stairs with a cane I bet the rest of you can," Harry said, limping over to the staircase towards his room. The others sighed and followed him to his room.

Ginny stayed sitting on the couch and Fish came over to sit beside her. "Ginny," the door shut upstairs, "I'm really sorry for what I said. But, you know by now that I wouldn't sleep with just anyone, I'm not stupid. Would you please tell me what's wrong?"

"Fish, I knew you were a "lady's man" or whatever and that you had had a lot of girlfriends but I guess it never really hit me that you had slept with all of them. You're a bit experienced and I'm really not at all."

"But I'm not like that anymore. I am experienced but that's all in my past. I don't even think about any of those girls anymore. Ever since I met you I realized that, if I could just have you with me, I don't need anyone else. You're so much more special to me then any of them ever were or ever could be. You're special to me, you're real. Not fake like all the other girls I've dated. You mean something to me." Ginny blushed. "Do you want proof of how much you mean to me?"

"What kind of proof?" Ginny asked.

"There are only two people in this world who know my real name and that's my sister and Harry. My sister because she was born before me and she had to know, and Harry knows because I trust him with my life. So if I tell you it means that I trust you to keep a very deep and special secret for me. Can you do that?" Ginny nodded and smiled. "Alright, but you have to promise not to laugh at me or ever use this name in public, or at all in fact."

"Alright."

Fish sighed. "My birth name is… (drum roll please) Asabee Horis Hatch."

Ginny smiled holding back her laugh. "It's not that bad. Asabee is kind of cute."

"My sister told me my mother was in labor for so long she hated me when I was born so she named me after a horror story she made up herself about Horis Greed who was cute as a bee and was killed and hung from an acorn tree. Don't ask what the story was about, it's kind of graphic. But that's why I don't like it and that's why we will never announce this to anyone, ever."

"So I can't call you Asabee ever? Even when we're alone?" Ginny asked.

"You want to be alone with me now?" Fish asked.

"I forgave you before you told me your name. I'm sorry I was rude. I was just scared. Stupid huh?"

"Not really. I understand," Fish said, stroking her cheek and moving her hair behind her ear. He leaned in to kiss her but the door upstairs slammed open.

"Alright that's enough. We need to finish our homework," Hermione said, stomping down the stairs.

"You weren't listening were you?" Fish asked worriedly.

"No," she sighed disappointedly, "Harry was hogging the whole door."

Harry came down smiling. "I was excited." He glared at Hermione. "Very nice pushing down the boy with a cane."

"You're strong, you'll heal," she said plainly, sitting down with her work again.

"Let's hope so."

"Hey Harry, you should probably start thinking of when you're gonna start team practice," Ron said, as they all retook their seats around the commons with their homework.

"Oh yeah. Almost forgot. We'll start in two days. Give everyone enough time to be prepared for whatever I'll have planned for that time."

"What do you think we will be doing on the first day back."

"A lot of exercise. You know how many of us have spent the entire summer watching the television and the goings on of the war. I think everyone needs a bit of exercise to get them going again."

"Why don't we just start tomorrow? We can notify everyone in the common room right now."

"Because I have to start physical therapy with Madam Pomfrey tomorrow, for my leg."

"Oh, sorry."

"No problem. All works to my advantage. Can't have this stupid cane forever. I'll go insane if I never get to run or anything ever again. I'm actually starting to get used to the cane so that's not the horrible part anymore. Except I did almost fall down the stairs yesterday. That was exciting. Almost stepped on poor Prose, don't know what he was doing on the floor."

"You almost fell down the stairs?" Bonnie asked.

"The guards took care of it. They're very good at their job. They don't let me walk two inches without them taking three."

"You sound annoyed."

"Not really. I should start on that apology letter to Mr. Bush," Harry said, summoning a pad of paper and a quill with ink. Then it was silent.

\-\

After an afternoon of working on his Occlumency and meditation with Dumbledore he was off to Madam Pomfrey for his physical therapy before dinner. He walked into the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey was working on getting a pain relief potion for a girl who had almost gotten her arm cut off. She looked to be hyperventilating. Harry walked over to her and sat down on a bed beside her.

"Hey," he said quietly. She looked over at him, her eyes widening in surprise. It was a first year. "How'd that happen?" he asked, motioning to her arm.

"Oh, um, stray hex in defense class."

"First year? What's my father teaching in his classes?"

"Actually it was a Slytherin who used the wrong jinx."

"You'd think they'd learn their lesson. Be happy you have Slytherins. I only have Malfoy and he tried to kill my girlfriend. I miss the other Slytherins," Harry sighed.

"Potter, stop scaring my patients," she said, handing the girl a potion, which she drank quickly and then stitching up her arm with her wand. She then gave her a dreamless sleep potion and closed the curtains around her bed. She turned to Harry. "How's the leg doing?"

"Fine I guess. I'm not really in pain or anything."

"Good. Are you're using your cane? Not running or jumping around or doing anything that might put too much pressure on it?" she asked, directing him to put his leg up on the bed she could look it over with her wand.

"No. I've been good. Using the cane, haven't been to any parties so no chances to jump up and down a lot."

"Good. No excess pressure?"

"No. I've been reading a lot. But Quidditch is coming up. I'll have the group running in two days around the pitch. I won't join them though. Sadly, and I'll have to live with their complaining about why I'm not joining them. But they'll have to live with it. I don't get to run so I'm going to live my workout through all of them."

"Good idea. Don't let your teammates pressure you. I know you enjoy running but it'll all turn out for the better in the end."

"Right."

"As for the actual Quidditch it shouldn't be too bad since you'll be up in the air. But be careful and don't be too forceful on your leg when you're going to accelerate or however you say it in Quidditch terms."

Harry laughed. "That's it? You're not going to tell me I should give up Quidditch this year?"

"Would you listen?"

"Guess not." Harry quieted while she looked over his knee with her wand.

"Alright, let's see how you walk on it," she said, standing up and stepping away.

Harry settled both feet on the floor and grabbed his cane to help him stand. Madam Pomfrey took his cane and told him to take a few steps so she could see how he walked without it and trying to narrow in on what was wrong.

"You think this'll help. The therapy?"

"It worked for people who've been shot in the leg and people who have been paralyzed. I'm sure it'll work on you."

"Who knows what sorts of spells have hit it though."

"I'm sure you'll be fine."

"I'll be able to run when my leg is healed right?" Harry asked, reaching for an empty bed.

"Depends on how well you do."

"Why wasn't it this hard to walk before? On Sober Day I felt just fine."

"Because it was healing well. Now you've damaged all the healing it had done during the summer and your muscles need to heal the leftover damage and the damage you caused yourself."

"Great."

Madam Pomfrey walked over and handed him his cane back. "I'm sure you'll do fine Harry. You heal easily. Maybe you'll get lucky."

Harry sighed. "If my quick healing was going to help me I'm sure it would have worked to my advantage a lot earlier."

\-\

The next day after breakfast the entire team gathered at the front of the pitch in their uniforms and their brooms.

"You'll all be starting off with two laps around the pitch. Unfortunately Madam Pomfrey said I'll only further damage my leg by running or walking without a cane so you'll all have to run without me. And just a warning, if one person complains or make some wise-arse remark about my cane and my not running I will give you a detention, with me, where you will run more laps. You'll be fulfilling my enjoyment in the sport by running for me. Does everyone understand?"

They all nodded and set their brooms down. Harry blew the whistle and they all started their laps. As Harry made himself comfortable on the ground, levering himself down with his cane, he heard one player mumble, "of course they make him head boy so he can make us suffer more."

"You don't sound like you're enjoying your running, Dean. Running is a gift, be thankful." He sighed and leaned his head back against the wall. "God, how I wish I was lucky enough to obtain that gift," he mumbled to himself, closing his eyes.

When the team was finished with their run Harry pulled himself up with his cane and then grabbed his Firebolt. He handed his cane to his guard, who sunk slightly at the weight and stared at Harry strangely as the boy got onto his broom. He pushed off the ground with his good leg, making himself slightly unbalanced as he lifted into the air but then straightened himself out again. He flew over to the team and told them what they would be doing for the next few hours of practice. "We started late this year, which is why I only gave you two laps. But we're going to have long practices to make up for the days we didn't start. Sorry." He flew up toward the pitch and everyone else flew off.