Harry Potter and the Rotating Plot Lines.
A/N: Libbs, I'm keeping the tulip just for you! My raging love beast.
Harry Potter and Lockhart's Untamed Chest Hair
After the derailed Gringotts job, Harry's life was aimless for several weeks. He went to class and played Quidditch, all while feeling empty. His only constant companion was the tulip that had saved his life. It was when Professor Snape kept throwing evil glances at Harry from the staff table in the Great Hall, that he finally lost it. He stood on the Gryffindor table, ripped off his robe, and did a jig, whirling the robe over his head and sending it flying. It landed on a very un-amused Professor Snape.
"Potter! Get your skinny arse out of the Hall!" Snape stormed up the aisle with Harry's robe still over his head. Hermione giggled as Snape tripped and landed face down on the floor. He didn't make any move to get up. "Just leave me here. Please." Hermione and Ron helped haul him to his feet. "You can't just lie there, Professor. We have a class this afternoon."
"Why must you remind me? Potter, let's go. My office. And here," he thrust the robe back at Harry, "Put this back on. You're blinding the student body."
"Professor Snape, I think I'm losing it. I think all the pressure has been building. I've been headed for this nervous breakdown. I mean, come on, I'm repeatedly traumatized. And I always come out smiling, a beacon of hope for millions."
"With delusions of grandeur." Snape muttered. Harry went on as if he didn't hear.
"Yet, basic psychology says we should deal with our trauma, or it backs up on us like the loo after I eat Mrs. Weasley's chili."
"That is a horrid metaphor."
Tulip raised a petal. "Actually, Professor Snape, it's a simile."
"Why the hell is your tulip correcting my grammar?"
"So maybe all this odd behavior makes sense. You know what? I'm going to check myself into St. Mungo's."
"I thought this day would never come! Potter I can't tell you how happy this makes me."
"Happy?"
"Well... less miserable."
"Off to St. Mungo's!"
*
"Well, Mrs. Weasley, I must say it's very unusual when a wizard checks himself into our care. But, thank Merlin for small favors. I hear he did a striptease in the Great Hall. These things simply must not happen. We'll find out what's wrong with him and get him back to you, straightaway."
"Oh, thank you doctor! I'm so worried about the lad. He's a good kid, but perhaps a bit... edgy."
"Don't worry about a thing, dear woman!" A third voice drifted into the room. The doctor rolled his eyes and twirled his finger about his temple. He whispered conspiratorially, "It's crazy Lockhart." Mrs. Weasley perked up when she heard this. Straightening her hair, she craned her neck to see where the voice was coming from.
"If I have anything to say about it, your lad will be right as rain in no time at all!" Lockhart entered the room in all his - ahem, glory? His hair was ratted in a style similar to what the Muggles call an "Afro" and his striped robe was hanging open, revealing very tight leopard printed stockings and not much else. Mrs. Weasley promptly fainted. The doctor promptly vomited.
"What's this, a tulip?" Lockhart said in a high, sing-song voice.
"Don't even touch me, freak."
"My, how clever a trickery! Talking tulips!"
"Tuley! My friend!" Harry shouted, barrelling into the room. "What has he done to you? Did you hurt you in any way? OH MY! Mrs. Weasley! Doctor! What have you done to them, you fiend? *GASP* You must be working for Voldemort. You, you, you.... YOU SIDER WITH PARENT-MURDERERS, YOU!!!!"
"Lovely to see you again. If I know you... do I know you?"
"Don't try to fool me, mister. I am unfoolable!"
"Harry... look out!"
"Tulip, what is it? Do you need some water? Wa-wa for Tuley?"
"You nincompoop! I'm a flower, not a baby! Stop talking to me in that idiotic voice. Oh, man, Harry, you better look behind you."
"Hey, Tulip, watch the attitude. And don't try that watch out behind you trick. I am unfoolable!"
'That's not even a word, you dolt. Seriously, check out behind you. This is some scary shit. I'm getting out of here." Tulip scooted its way out of the room, leaving Harry utterly baffled and therefore in familiar territory. He felt something tickling the back of his neck, and he turned to find himself being attacked by tendrils of Lockhart's chest hair.
"OH GODS! HELP ME! THE CHEST HAIR IS WORKING WITH VOLDEMORT!" Harry slowly stopped screaming as the hair worked its way around his throat and began to tighten. His futile attempts to free himself lessened as his body went limp in the clutches of the chest hair. Lockhart simply stood, smiling, as his chest hair chocked Harry near to the point of death.
Hermione came running into the room. "Backstreetboyicus waximus!" She shouted, pointing her wand at the curlicues. They immediately disappeared, leaving Lockhart with a very unmanly smooth chest.
"Hey, I have pecs under all that hair!"
Hermione bent down to listen for Harry's breathing. When it didn't come, she rolled him over onto his back and pulled a small vial from her robes. She waved it under his nose and he immediately came to.
"Hullo, Hermione. What happened?"
"I just roused you with a special mixture I found in Professor Snape's private stores. I don't know what it is." She waved the vial under Mrs. Weasley's nose, but nothing happened. "Hmmm. I wonder what it could be."
"It's essence of Voldemort."
"Huh?"
"It smells just like Voldemort. The parent killer."
"Hmmm. He smells rather good."
"Yeah. Hey, Hermione. You ought to get out of here. I'm supposed to be getting better."
"Yeah, but you surely won't get better if you keep almost dying. I'm leaving you in the care of Tulip. It'll alert me if there's trouble. And there's bound to be. Try your best to be smart, okay?"
"What's that?"
"Oh gods. Never mind. I'll see you later."
Next up: Harry Potter and the Revenge of Montezuma
A/N: Libbs, I'm keeping the tulip just for you! My raging love beast.
Harry Potter and Lockhart's Untamed Chest Hair
After the derailed Gringotts job, Harry's life was aimless for several weeks. He went to class and played Quidditch, all while feeling empty. His only constant companion was the tulip that had saved his life. It was when Professor Snape kept throwing evil glances at Harry from the staff table in the Great Hall, that he finally lost it. He stood on the Gryffindor table, ripped off his robe, and did a jig, whirling the robe over his head and sending it flying. It landed on a very un-amused Professor Snape.
"Potter! Get your skinny arse out of the Hall!" Snape stormed up the aisle with Harry's robe still over his head. Hermione giggled as Snape tripped and landed face down on the floor. He didn't make any move to get up. "Just leave me here. Please." Hermione and Ron helped haul him to his feet. "You can't just lie there, Professor. We have a class this afternoon."
"Why must you remind me? Potter, let's go. My office. And here," he thrust the robe back at Harry, "Put this back on. You're blinding the student body."
"Professor Snape, I think I'm losing it. I think all the pressure has been building. I've been headed for this nervous breakdown. I mean, come on, I'm repeatedly traumatized. And I always come out smiling, a beacon of hope for millions."
"With delusions of grandeur." Snape muttered. Harry went on as if he didn't hear.
"Yet, basic psychology says we should deal with our trauma, or it backs up on us like the loo after I eat Mrs. Weasley's chili."
"That is a horrid metaphor."
Tulip raised a petal. "Actually, Professor Snape, it's a simile."
"Why the hell is your tulip correcting my grammar?"
"So maybe all this odd behavior makes sense. You know what? I'm going to check myself into St. Mungo's."
"I thought this day would never come! Potter I can't tell you how happy this makes me."
"Happy?"
"Well... less miserable."
"Off to St. Mungo's!"
*
"Well, Mrs. Weasley, I must say it's very unusual when a wizard checks himself into our care. But, thank Merlin for small favors. I hear he did a striptease in the Great Hall. These things simply must not happen. We'll find out what's wrong with him and get him back to you, straightaway."
"Oh, thank you doctor! I'm so worried about the lad. He's a good kid, but perhaps a bit... edgy."
"Don't worry about a thing, dear woman!" A third voice drifted into the room. The doctor rolled his eyes and twirled his finger about his temple. He whispered conspiratorially, "It's crazy Lockhart." Mrs. Weasley perked up when she heard this. Straightening her hair, she craned her neck to see where the voice was coming from.
"If I have anything to say about it, your lad will be right as rain in no time at all!" Lockhart entered the room in all his - ahem, glory? His hair was ratted in a style similar to what the Muggles call an "Afro" and his striped robe was hanging open, revealing very tight leopard printed stockings and not much else. Mrs. Weasley promptly fainted. The doctor promptly vomited.
"What's this, a tulip?" Lockhart said in a high, sing-song voice.
"Don't even touch me, freak."
"My, how clever a trickery! Talking tulips!"
"Tuley! My friend!" Harry shouted, barrelling into the room. "What has he done to you? Did you hurt you in any way? OH MY! Mrs. Weasley! Doctor! What have you done to them, you fiend? *GASP* You must be working for Voldemort. You, you, you.... YOU SIDER WITH PARENT-MURDERERS, YOU!!!!"
"Lovely to see you again. If I know you... do I know you?"
"Don't try to fool me, mister. I am unfoolable!"
"Harry... look out!"
"Tulip, what is it? Do you need some water? Wa-wa for Tuley?"
"You nincompoop! I'm a flower, not a baby! Stop talking to me in that idiotic voice. Oh, man, Harry, you better look behind you."
"Hey, Tulip, watch the attitude. And don't try that watch out behind you trick. I am unfoolable!"
'That's not even a word, you dolt. Seriously, check out behind you. This is some scary shit. I'm getting out of here." Tulip scooted its way out of the room, leaving Harry utterly baffled and therefore in familiar territory. He felt something tickling the back of his neck, and he turned to find himself being attacked by tendrils of Lockhart's chest hair.
"OH GODS! HELP ME! THE CHEST HAIR IS WORKING WITH VOLDEMORT!" Harry slowly stopped screaming as the hair worked its way around his throat and began to tighten. His futile attempts to free himself lessened as his body went limp in the clutches of the chest hair. Lockhart simply stood, smiling, as his chest hair chocked Harry near to the point of death.
Hermione came running into the room. "Backstreetboyicus waximus!" She shouted, pointing her wand at the curlicues. They immediately disappeared, leaving Lockhart with a very unmanly smooth chest.
"Hey, I have pecs under all that hair!"
Hermione bent down to listen for Harry's breathing. When it didn't come, she rolled him over onto his back and pulled a small vial from her robes. She waved it under his nose and he immediately came to.
"Hullo, Hermione. What happened?"
"I just roused you with a special mixture I found in Professor Snape's private stores. I don't know what it is." She waved the vial under Mrs. Weasley's nose, but nothing happened. "Hmmm. I wonder what it could be."
"It's essence of Voldemort."
"Huh?"
"It smells just like Voldemort. The parent killer."
"Hmmm. He smells rather good."
"Yeah. Hey, Hermione. You ought to get out of here. I'm supposed to be getting better."
"Yeah, but you surely won't get better if you keep almost dying. I'm leaving you in the care of Tulip. It'll alert me if there's trouble. And there's bound to be. Try your best to be smart, okay?"
"What's that?"
"Oh gods. Never mind. I'll see you later."
Next up: Harry Potter and the Revenge of Montezuma