Harry Potter's Sixth Year in Bad Fanfiction
BY LARGEMARGE
Author's Note: Thank you to those thoughtful individuals who left me kind reviews and were visited by the bird of paradise. And to everyone else, may you be cursed with pus-filled boils all the rest of your days. Oh, and thanks for reading.
Disclaimer: No, really. I don't own Harry Potter.
Wherein Everyone is Out of Character
Harry was leaving the hospital wing. At long last.
"Now, you take it easy, Mr. Potter. No more getting captured and tortured by dark wizards," Madame Pomfrey scolded Harry a few days later as he prepared to leave the hospital wing.
"Yes, ma'am." Harry scooted out the door before she could change her mind and make him stay.
Just outside the door he stumbled over a dark form and almost fell.
Voldemort! Voldemort had come back to get him again...
Oh. It was just Draco.
"What're you doing, Malfoy?" Harry asked with annoyance, after he caught his balance.
Draco pushed himself up from his crouched position. "I...I was just wondering...if I could talk to you." His eyes darted nervously around.
Harry watched him with suspicion. "What for."
He hitched a shoulder uneasily. "It's kind of...private. Could we go somewhere else?"
Harry raised his eyebrows. "Sure, Malfoy. But why don't I just save you the time and let you hex me right now."
A look of frustration flitted across Draco's face. "That's not what I want! I just wanted to tell you something. Where we wouldn't be overheard."
Harry folded his arms. "I'm not going anywhere with you, Malfoy. If it's that important, say it now. Otherwise, I've got other things to do." He made as if to move away, and Draco held up a hand.
"No, wait! Fine, I'll just tell you now." He looked around nervously again. "I just wanted to tell you...I'm a changed man."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Man?"
Draco nodded. "Yes. All those mean things I've said and done to you over the last few years...I take it all back. Can we hang out and be friends now?"
"Are you mocking me, Malfoy? I'm not in the mood for it." Harry turned to go.
"No, wait! I'm not mocking you! I'm deadly serious! I've decided not to join Voldemort anymore. In fact, I'm going to see if I can switch houses. Secretly I've always wanted to be a Gryffindor."
Harry turned to face Malfoy. He felt like he was going to be sick. "So just like that I'm supposed to believe you? I don't think so."
Draco clasped his hands together. "Oh, please, Harry. I know I've been just awful to you, but at last I've seen the light! Won't you please let us be friends now?"
"All right, Malfoy. You've had your fun. Now go away and leave me alone."
"Great Merlin's curly black fuzzy beard, Harry! I'm trying to be nice here!" Draco exclaimed in frustration.
"Well, stop it. It's creepy." Harry turned on his heel for the last time.
"You haven't heard the last of this, Harry Potter!" Draco called after him. "We'll settle this soon!"
Harry pondered the strange conversation as he made his way to Gryffindor tower. First Snape, and now Draco. What was going on around here? Maybe Dumbledore would have some idea about it. He'd bring it up the next time he talked to him.
While his thoughts were on the headmaster, Harry suddenly remembered Dumbledore's last words to him. Something about defeating Voldemort forever. What had he been talking about?
With this question in mind, Harry detoured toward Dumbledore's office. Outside the entrance, however, he encountered Professor McGonagall.
"Aah, Potter," she said, giving him an assessing look. "Madame Pomfrey released you?" she asked, as though she wanted to make sure had hadn't just up and left on his own.
"Of course," he replied. "I need to see the headmaster. Is he in?"
"I'm sorry, Potter, no. Professor Dumbledore is currently away on important business." She lowered her voice. "Order business."
"What kind of business?" he asked. "Does it involve me?"
McGonagall gave him a stern look. "Why should it involve you, Potter?"
Harry hesitated. "Oh, I just wondered why...you know, someone from the Ministry of Magic hasn't come to interview me about being held captive by Voldemort and tortured and stuff."
McGonagall waved a hand impatiently. "Oh, that. You see, the Ministry doesn't know about it, Potter. Officially."
"Officially?" Harry was confused.
"Officially you got on the wrong train and made it to Hogwarts late."
Oh, the injustice of it all! During his days in the hospital wing, the one thought that had brought him comfort was dreaming of his name in the history books as the only person to ever successfully hijack the Hogwarts Express. And now...he wasn't even officially on the train!
"But Professor –" he began to protest.
"Not now, Potter," McGonagall cut him off. "I need to get to class and so do you. Now get going."
Harry heaved a sigh and made his way to Gryffindor tower. Life was so unfair! As an angst-ridden teenager, that was the one thing he was sure of. After collecting his books, he heaved another sigh and left.
Harry's return to classes was a momentous occasion.
As he walked down the hallway, shouts of "Good to see you, Harry!" and "Glad you're doing better," and "Hey, look! Harry's back!" abounded in front of and behind him. Harry was pleased to see that everything seemed to have gotten back to normal at Hogwarts.
Then there was the moment in the hallway when he ran into Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. Hermione threw her arms joyfully around Harry in a completely innocent and platonic and oh-so harmless and companionable but still otherwise meaningless hug. Ron was silent and moody after that. Ginny's mood was suspiciously similar to her brother's.
"Hey, is that...Professor Hodgepodge?" he suddenly asked, catching a glimpse of the figure in the doorway to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.
The girls refused to answer his question and Ron was still pouting, but he finally answered a reluctant, "Yes."
Harry whistled. "She's beautiful."
Ginny burst into tears and ran off.
"What's her problem?" Ron asked.
Harry gazed longingly after his lady love, pondering the folly of tracking her down, taking her into his arms, and telling her that she was the one, the only one, the only one there'd ever be, the single biggest love of his life, the one he'd gladly die for, the one who made living worthwhile, the one who set his heart on fire, the only one who...
"Harry! Wake up. We're going to be late for class," Ron said, waving a hand in front of his face and saving the reader from further clichés.
"Oh, yeah. Right. Sorry." Harry gave himself a shake.
"So pleased to finally meet you, Harry," Professor Hodgepodge said, batting her eyelashes at him while simultaneously handing him a large fudge brownie. "I made these just for you. I'm very good around the kitchen. I don't use house elves, you know. I've found that being a domestic person is so much more fulfilling. Don't you think so?"
"Uh-huh," Harry said, wondering why he'd ever thought Ginny was the one. He'd always dreamed of being involved with an older woman. Hadn't he? It seemed like he had.
"I'm so pleased that you're feeling better," she continued, looking at him out of concerned large brown eyes. Beautiful brown eyes. Lusciously adorable truly loveable eyes, Harry suddenly found himself thinking. He gave himself a shake when he realized he was just staring.
"Uh...yeah, right. Feeling great," he muttered, before moving past her to take a seat next to Ron.
"Told you she was gorgeous, mate," Ron muttered.
Harry realized he had been holding his breath and let it out in a long exhale. "I'm in love," he breathed.
Hermione gave them both a disapproving glare.
He stuffed the brownie in his mouth. "Brownie's good too," he said around a mouthful.
"She made you brownies?" Ron asked enviously. "Lucky."
"What about Ginny?" Hermione asked reproachfully.
"Ginny who?" Harry asked blankly.
Hermione made an exasperated sound.
Professor Hodgepodge asked them to perform some absurdly simple magic from their third year which even Neville managed not to mess up.
At the end of class she asked Harry to stay behind.
Harry moved uncertainly to the front of the classroom as it emptied of students.
"Uh...you wanted to talk to me, Professor?" he asked nervously.
"Have a seat, Harry," she indicated the front row.
He sat.
"What are we going to do with you, Harry?" she smiled at him.
He shrugged. "Yeah. Uh...sorry I've been gone, professor."
"Well, that's all right. I'll just have to tutor you, I suppose. So you don't get too far behind."
"Well...okay," said Harry, thinking mostly about all the time he was going to get to spend with her, and not on the fact that strictly speaking he wasn't behind at all, as they still had yet to pass the third years.
There was a knock on the door. "Buttercup? Are you –"
It was Snape. He stopped short at sight of Harry. "Aah, Potter," he sneered. "I might have expected you to get a detention on your first day back."
"I did not –" Harry began, but Professor Hodgepodge cut him off.
"Oh, now, Severus, it's not a detention. I merely asked him to stay behind so we could speak about getting him caught up on all that he's missed."
"Of course," Snape sneered. "I'll wait for you in the hall, Buttercup."
"Such a charming man," she said once he had withdrawn. "So sweet and caring. He brought me flowers this morning, you know. And a perfect gentleman. Everything I've ever wanted. And more," she added.
Harry tried not to feel sick to his stomach. True love so recently born and already snuffed out. And by Snape, of all people! The sudden thought that something was going on between his beautiful new DADA teacher and his disgusting potions professor was too much. He was going to be sick.
"I've got to go." He stood up abruptly.
"Oh? Don't you feel well? You don't look well at all."
Harry shook his head. "No. I think I need to lie down."
After giving Harry some extra reading assignments and homework, Professor Hodgepodge dismissed him. He was only too glad to leave.
Snape stopped him in the hall. "Like your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Potter?" he asked in amusement.
Harry frowned. "She's okay," he said cautiously. But seeing Snape brought the sick feeling tumbling back, and suddenly Harry was puking his guts out on the cold stone floor.
With a sudden sharp intake of breath, Snape was by his side. "Harry? Are you all right? Oh, my poor little Gryffindor..."
Harry jumped when he realized Snape was attempting to comfort him by awkwardly patting him on the back.
"Ah...I'm fine, professor," he said, jumping out of his reach. "Just a little queasy. Sorry about the mess."
With a hurt look in his eyes, Snape turned away to clean up Harry's mess with a wave of his wand and a muttered, "Scourgify." He also muttered something about, "Stupid potion. I've got to make it more powerful. Twice as powerful. Can't have this happening again..."
When he turned back, it was obvious that he was not in the mood to do anything comforting or kind of any sort.
"Have you been drinking your potions, Mr. Potter?" he asked coldly.
"Of course I have," Harry spat at him. "You keep threatening me with points from Gryffindor if I don't."
Snape glowered. "Careful, golden boy, I'm still your professor."
Harry glared right back. "Don't call me that," he said coldly, his voice like steel, the thick, reinforced kind that's impossible to break through except maybe with a lot of explosives. That kind of steel. Really thick. And cold, really cold. That's what Harry's voice was like. But smooth too. Smooth like creamy yogurt. Well, anyway.
After a staring contest which ended in a draw, Snape finally spoke. "You will be pleased to learn, Potter, that the headmaster has asked me to continue your occlumency lessons."
Harry opened his mouth, ready for protest.
"It seems your frequent nightmares have become the talk of the hospital wing. You haven't been occluding your mind, Potter," Snape accused him.
"Yeah, sorry, it kind of slipped my mind," Harry said. "It's on my to-do list right after 'defeat Voldemort' and 'save the world.'"
"The only reason I haven't given you detention yet, Potter, is because I don't want to punish myself anymore than I have to," Snape said in a low, dangerous voice. "But believe me, there are other ways to dole out punishment."
Yeah, like stealing the woman of my dreams right from under my nose, Harry thought tragically to himself. He folded his arms. "Are you done, professor?" he asked impatiently. "Can I go now?"
Snape waved a hand. "Leave me."
Which Harry did gladly. Vowing to himself, he wouldn't be taking occlumency lessons with that particular professor if he had anything to say about it.
Dumbledore had a lot to answer for.
Author's Note: Hope my OC doesn't annoy you too much.
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