Disclaimer: Not one tiny shred of the basic plot/characters/etc. is mine. OK? Are you happy now?
(Note: Bits in italics are dreams, *asterisks are thoughts* and #hashes are song lyrics, singing, etc.#)
Chapter 9: A Decision Is Made At Last
Harry was stunned. He wasn't doing NEWT level Potions for nothing. He was quite good at Potions really – except you have to see at this point he was still quite mad, and still slightly sedated. So he couldn't figure out what the potion was.
Neville went out of the room and Harry followed. Oh horror of horrors! NEVILLE WAS GOING TO THE HOSPITAL WING!
Harry ran like the wind. He took a short cut (known only to him from the Marauder's Map) and was back in bed with a slight pinkish tinge to his face before Neville drew breath. Well, not quite. Neville had taken several breaths, but you know what I mean.
"Harry! Harry," Neville wheedled.
"Geez, Neville, what the ___ are you doing? Do you know what time it is?" Harry rubbed his eyes as if he had just woken up.
"Sorry – found this. Thought it might help. Here, take it," he said, handing him the vile. Harry took it gingerly and drank it. Nothing felt different. He sighed, and gave the vile back. *Thank God Neville is crap at potions*
The next day, Harry was let out of hospital. Hooray. He joined up with Hermione, Ron and inevitably Neville, who clung to Harry like a limpet's shadow. They had a good laugh about Snape (although Harry left out the part about Snape's relationship with McGonagall) and decided they were indeed mentally scarred. For life. I mean, Dumbledore – naked. And since then the whole school had tittered as Dumbledore went past, and made comments like "Well, McGonagall must be thrilled!" Perverted, I know. But hey, that's adolescents for you.
Harry was laughing. Lots. He laughed in Potions at the substitute teacher Professor Enchantica, who tried (and failed) to make an Achievement Potion. He laughed when Professor Binnes made a pass at the Bloody Baron, thinking him to be a new female ghost. He laughed until he peed himself when Malfoy was pretending to be Dumbledore and was placed in detention by McGonagall. The tranquillizers were taking their toll.
Speaking of McGonagall, Harry was still fixated by her (though not in an absolute stark raving loony mad sense…) He still imagined her hair dappled against the sunlight, he imagined her dark eyes sparkling… and he could only imagine, as Dumbledore had (wisely) had his Transfiguration work sent to his common room so Harry could avoid lessons. He worked steadily in his common room, with only the fire for company. And as he gazed above his bed at night, he saw the joke poster Ron had given him last summer while he was at the Dursley's (defeating the Dark Lord made no difference to his lodging arrangements, apparently – they only let him stay at Ron's if and when he ran away):
If you feel you are alone, then you are not alone – and yet you are alone. So very alone…He was indeed. He was indeed alone. Just him and his perverted thoughts about the teacher he was never allowed to see.
"HARRY!"*Another bloody dream! Does the torture never end? * He thought angrily. He gazed around the blackness and saw Neville creeping towards him, and McGonagall, and Hermione, and a demented Snape (as always, messily drooling), and Ron, and Ginny, all closing in around him. Chanting, "Harry, Harry, Harry Potter, Harry, Harry, Harry Potter…" They were quite menacing. Except perhaps the virtual Snape, who had been distracted by a half-naked Professor Hooch.
"What have I done?" Harry asked. They continued to chant softly while Neville recited an extremely bad self-written rhyme…
Harry Potter, oh Harry Potter
Of this strife you've had a lotta
Eight days now, or is it nine
For all this time, I can define
You're in love my friend, in love
Your soul set free just like a dove
But what to do, what to do
When that love is not showered unto you?
This mess you're in, oh this mess you're in
This whole time was a time of sin
Eight days now, or is it nine
For all this time, I can define
You have a way out, way out
So you asked your friend who did pout
Said what to do, what to do
When a mental illness is upon you?
Goodbye Harry, Harry goodbye
I'll leave you now, your soul to die
Eight days now, or is it nine
This present time I can't define
So, make your choice, your choice
Your decision flag wilst thou hoist
Now what to do, what to do
I leave now, Harry, it's all up to you.
They backed away slowly, still chanting. Snape was still ogling the half-naked Professor Hooch, and had to be dragged away by McGonagall.
"WHAT THE HELL???" *Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.* He clamed down and resisted the urge to storm up to Neville and unreasonably demand why he was invading his dreams. Unless he knew. Twice he had hinted he knew what was going on. Harry was starting to wonder what the hell Neville was doing – haunting him, invading his private dreams, giving him strange liquids in the dead of night. He wasn't right in the head. Then again, neither was Harry, but since this is Harry's PoV then he didn't spot this. Harry sat up in his bed and thought for a second or two (a new experience). Ok, this was getting crazy. He had to stop this now – with or without Neville or Hermione's help.
His mind was made up.
"Genila liklln," he murmured. "Genila liklln," he murmured again. Could he do it? Yes. He could, and he would and he should.
He knocked on her study door, preparing to shield his eyes against the tartan. She opened the door, and Harry swept in, kissed her on the lips and aimed his wand.
"GENILA LIKLLN!!" he yelled. The purple light shot at her, and she fell to the floor, black vapour rising off her body…
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Suspense…
R&R.