Harry Potter's Sixth Year in Bad Fanfiction
BY LARGEMARGE
Author's Note: Get ready…in this chapter, the scene I have ALWAYS wanted to see between Professors Snape and McGonagall.
Disclaimer: If you think I own Harry Potter, you're wrong. Thanks for playing, though.
Random Stupidity and Lurking Evil
"Harry! Harry, get up! It's quidditch practice, remember?"
Harry groaned and rolled over. "It's Saturday. What time is it? It's not even light out."
"It's four a.m.," said Ron, bouncing on the edge of Harry's bed. "Don't you want to get an early start?"
"No," said Harry, pulling the covers over his head. "Besides, you're the captain now. You didn't need me when you had tryouts last week; why do you need me now?"
"But Harry," Ron pleaded, "Aren't you just itching to play quidditch? After being banned last year…"
Harry snored loudly to show he was asleep.
"Oh, I forgot. Hedwig brought you this." A package landed on top of Harry. With a groan he sat up and began to open it.
"Ron, it's a broom! The new Nimbus Ten Million!"
"Oh, Harry, you have all the luck," Ron said enviously, then paused to reconsider his statement. "Well, I mean…besides your parents being killed by Voldemort. And having to live with your awful relatives. And your godfather dying and Voldemort trying to kill you…" he ticked each item off on his fingers. "Well, you know, all the other bad stuff that's always happening to you. Anyway, who's it from?"
"There's no note."
Ron shrugged. "Well, I'm sure it's not from Voldemort," he comforted.
Harry paused. That hadn't even occurred to him. "Yeah, I'm sure you're right. Why would Voldemort send me a broom?" he concluded, racing to get dressed.
Ron and Harry practiced in the darkness of the quidditch pitch for a couple of hours. Once the sun rose, the rest of the team straggled out on the field, looking half-awake and decidedly grumpy. It was a fairly uneventful practice. Finally Ron called that practice was over and the team, looking a little more awake, straggled off the field.
Harry soared to the ground, ecstatic at the performance of his new broom. It did feel great to be on a broom again.
The Slytherin team was waiting at the edge of the field. "Harry," Draco nodded in his direction. His teammates looked at him like he was crazy.
Harry pretended he didn't hear and would have walked by, but Ron stopped directly in front of him. "How dare you talk to Harry, Malfoy! You'll pay for that!" He punched Draco in the nose.
The field exploded into a fistfight between the Gryffindor and Slytherin quidditch teams. Harry suddenly found himself in the middle of the brawl.
"What's going on here?" a voice thundered.
Everyone froze. Harry had just taken a hit to the nose and had his hands around someone's neck…Malfoy, now that he looked. He immediately let go.
Snape was rushing toward them, his robes billowing around him. "Ten million points from Gryff—" he began, but was cut off as Professor McGonagall zoomed past him.
"A billion points from Slytherin!" she shrieked.
Snape stopped. "You can't do that!"
"Oh really?" Professor McGonagall put her hands on her hips.
"Well, two billions points from Gryffindor, then," he said smugly. "So there."
"And for sportsmanlike conduct, three billion points to Gryffindor," she interjected smoothly.
"Sportsmanlike conduct?" Snape echoed. "You can't be serious."
"It was a very clean fight," McGonagall defended. "No hits below the waist on the Gryffindor's side."
"Well…" Snape paused, obviously trying to come up with a retort. "Well…a trillion points to Slytherin…for being Slytherin!" he finished triumphantly.
"What? That's ridiculous!" McGonagall protested.
"You just can't come up with a good comeback," he said haughtily.
McGonagall turned away from Snape with a sniff. "Just what exactly is going on here, Potter?" she addressed him.
Harry's face turned red. Why did she have to ask him? "Uh…well, you see, professor…" He wiped at the blood streaming from his nose and attempted to formulate a clear answer. "We were just…playing around, professor. You know."
"Uh-huh." She didn't seem impressed.
"It was Malfoy!" Ron piped up. "He insulted Harry!"
"I did not!" Draco said indignantly. "I hardly even opened my mouth, and then he hit me!" he pointed angrily at Ron.
Everyone exploded into an explanation, and finally McGonagall held up a hand. "Enough!" she shouted. "You three, Potter, Weasley, and Malfoy, come with me. We're going to have a little talk with the headmaster about this."
"He's back?" Harry asked with surprise.
McGonagall gave him a stern look over her shoulder as she turned and didn't answer. Harry fell into step reluctantly next to Ron. Draco followed behind.
"A billion points from Slytherin for being cheeky," Harry heard McGonagall snap at Snape ahead of them.
"A billion points from Gryffindor for being arrogant," he countered.
Harry and Ron exchanged a look of bewilderment.
The bickering between the two professors continued the whole way to Dumbledore's office.
"Cinnamon gummy bears," McGonagall snapped the password, because for some reason it's important that Dumbledore's password be announced in every fanfic.
The ride up the staircase was silent. But when they reached the top, Dumbledore called to come in before Professor McGonagall even had the chance to knock.
He gave Harry a sorrowful look over the top of his glasses as the entire group clustered into his office.
"Fighting, boys?" he asked sadly.
Harry wiped at his bloody nose sullenly. He was still mad at Dumbledore for asking Snape to resume his occlumency lessons.
"Bloody Weasley started it," Draco spoke angrily. "If he hadn't –"
"Me?" Ron was enraged. "That git insulted Harry!"
Harry stood silently clutching his broom, which for some unknown plot device he had happened to bring along with him.
"Silence!" Dumbledore thundered. "Harry, what do you have to say?"
"Dunno," he mumbled, staring at the ground. "I…didn't see anything."
"Potter." Snape spoke in a strange voice. "Where…where did you get that broom?"
Harry clutched the broom defensively. "It was a gift."
"Looks like the one from my kitchen," Snape said.
"Whoa! That's the new Nimbus Ten Million!" Draco came nearer to admire the broom. Harry held it out of his reach.
"It's mine," he said tightly.
"Accio broom," Snape snapped.
"Give it back! It's mine!" Harry yelled, as the broom flew out of his hands.
"Headmaster, it's clearly full of dark magic," Snape said, examining the broom closely. "You see these markings here…"
"It is not! I rode it all morning! There's nothing wrong with it!" Harry shouted.
"Calm down, Harry," Dumbledore said. "Let me see the broom, Severus."
Snape handed the broom over.
"You just don't want me to have it because I like it more than you," Harry muttered to Snape.
"What was that, Potter?" Snape asked, a dangerously dangerous edge to his voice.
Harry suddenly regretted his statement. "Um…nothing. Nope, nothing at all." Professor Dumbledore was staring at him, a strange expression on his face. So was McGonagall. And Draco, now that Harry thought to look. The only one not paying any attention was Ron, who was still growling and baring his teeth at Draco.
Dumbledore finally spoke. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ban you three from the first quidditch game," he said quietly.
"What? But that's not fair!" Ron squealed, his attention finally diverted from Draco.
"Care to make it the whole season, Weasley?" Snape growled.
Ron shut up.
"And now I'd like to have a word with Harry," Dumbledore continued. "Alone."
Harry exchanged a look with Ron and shrugged his shoulders. He avoided looking at anyone else.
The room emptied slowly, with mutters of, "A thousand points from Slytherin for greasiness," and, "A million points from Gryffindor for stupidity."
Draco even muttered, "Good luck, mate." Harry shot him a glare.
Once the room was empty, Dumbledore indicated a chair. "Have a seat, Harry."
Harry continued to stand. "You…" he sputtered, then continued. "You told Snape to continue my occlumency lessons!" he accused.
Dumbledore sighed and laced his fingers together. "Yes, Harry, I did," he admitted.
"But why?" Harry complained.
"Well, you see, Harry," Dumbledore explained, "I can't really tell you why. It would defeat the last scene we have together this year when I explain to you what mystery's been going on all year and why I've inflicted all sorts of uncomfortable things on you."
Harry stared at the headmaster without comprehension. "Huh?"
"Occlumency lessons are one thing I can't explain to you," Dumbledore continued, "As well as why I'm going to take this broom away from you for the rest of the year."
"What?" Harry exploded.
"And why Professor Snape and Mr. Malfoy are acting so friendly towards you all of a sudden. Yes, I know about it," he said with a dismissing wave of his hand as Harry eagerly started forward, questions clearly about to bubble forth from his mouth. "It's no use asking, Harry. It's practically a cardinal rule by now. No, Harry. I cannot explain to you what is going on until we get to the end of the school year."
Harry folded his arms and dropped into a chair, pouting. "I suppose you can't even tell me how I'm going to defeat Voldemort forever."
Dumbledore leaned forward. "Now that I can tell you," he said.
With raised eyebrows Harry sat forward too, eagerly. "Well?" he asked with anticipation.
"It's a very delicate procedure, Harry," Dumbledore began, stroking his beard. "But what it all comes down to is that you must…" he paused for effect before continuing, "…kill him."
"Kill…him?" Harry asked, wondering if he'd heard right.
"Yeah. So he won't ever come back again."
"Gee…that's wonderful, professor," Harry said sarcastically. "How long did it take you to come up with that?"
"The Order's been working on that theory for the last few months."
Harry jumped up and slammed around the room for a while. "Well, that's just bloody wonderful!" he finally exploded. "I'll get right on that. Can I go now?"
Dumbledore considered. "Yes, Harry. But take care," he cautioned. "There are evils out there, things too terrible to speak of –"
"I had a feeling you were going to say that," Harry muttered.
"—and I fear these things are closing in on all of us. But most importantly, on you."
"Well, thanks for that," Harry said.
He didn't know where to go. He was so angry he wanted to hit something. Unconsciously he found himself heading to the room of requirement, hoping for some punching bags to appear.
Draco was crouched outside the door, sobbing into the tops of his knees.
Certain that this was a sign of one of those "evils too terrible to speak of," Harry almost ignored Draco altogether. But at the last moment he ripped his hand off the doorknob and whirled angrily. He was going to punch him. He really was…
"What's your problem, Malfoy?" he asked shortly, folding his arms and glaring.
Draco lifted his head, his face tearstained. "Oh, Harry," he said with embarrassment, wiping his sleeve across his eyes. "Uh…nothing's the matter. Just got something in my eye." He poked his finger in his eye a few times. "There, I think I got it out." He wiped his sleeve across his eyes again and pushed himself to his feet.
"Good," Harry said, turning away.
"It's just…" Draco began. Harry heaved a sigh and turned back.
"Just?" he asked, his boredom evident.
"Have you thought about what I said before? Can we be buddies now and hang out? I was thinking maybe the Hogsmeade visit in a couple weeks…we could get a couple butterbeers…" Draco trailed off at the look on Harry's face.
"Get lost, Malfoy," he said angrily. "I'm tired of this game."
"But it's not a game, Harry!" Draco pleaded, a look of absolutely heart-wrenching anguish on his face. "You just don't understand…it's really not what it seems…" he was blubbering by now.
Harry was coldhearted in the face of Slytherin suffering. "Why don't you owl your father?" he growled. "Maybe he cares."
Draco rubbed at his face miserably. "Oh, Harry," he said, moving closer and looking around nervously, "I've just got to tell you something. But you've got to promise never to tell anyone!" he whispered anxiously, his eyes continuing to dart around.
Harry was slightly intrigued. "Okay," he agreed.
"M-my father," Draco began.
"Is a slimy snake?" Harry supplied. "Yes, we all know."
"No." Draco shook his head. "Well, yes. But…I mean…Harry, my father beats me," Draco finished in a rush.
Harry stared unbelievingly at Draco. "He…does?" he finally sputtered.
"Yes," Draco continued in a small voice. "I've never told anyone that." He exhaled loudly. "It feels so good to get that off my chest."
Harry couldn't believe it! Poor Draco, all this time enduring an abusive father! He never would have believed it, not of Lucius Malfoy, that pillar of the wizarding community. But now it all made sense! Now he could understand Draco!
"Oh, Draco, now I understand!"
"You do?" Draco asked joyfully. "So we can be friends now?"
"Of course!" Harry slung an arm around his shoulders. "What do you want to do first? We could go hang out at the library together," he suggested.
"Okay!" Draco agreed. "I love to study! I'll help you with Potions. I'm really good at it."
"And I'll help you with Defense," Harry jumped in. "Let's go, buddy."
(The author is retching at this sappy turn of events and is unable to write further. She is also strongly considering beginning the next chapter with the words Harry woke up.)
A/N: Review! And please please please give me your ideas! Is it a dream? Or has Harry really turned into a gullible and incongruent creature of fanfiction?
