Chapter 2: The truth comes out...sort of...
Harry woke up in a daze, a blank space replacing where he was after supper the night before all the way to waking up. Not that it mattered anyways. He was content to lay in bed peacefully all morn-
"Harry Potter! Get your lazy arse outta bed right now!"
'So much for wishful thinking', he thought. Grumbling angrily to himself about the soon-to-be-sorry person that dared wake him up this manner, he got out of his four-poster bed and began to head toward said person, who happened to be Hermione.
The bushy-haired girl was very pissed because Harry had slept in on the very day that they were having a practical exam in Potions.
"I do not appreciate being woken up at"-he glanced at the clock, eyes widening-"9 o'clock in the morning!"
The Boy Who Lived realized the importance of his rude awakening, running back and forth, trying helplessly to put on his uniform and clean his teeth at the same time. Hermione couldn't help but let a tiny giggle escape from her mouth, receiving a glare from Harry.
"You could at least try to help me! You're just standing there like a freaking...useless thing!" He said this between putting on his tie and trying (and failing) to comb his hair. He was a pissed, cranky and tired teenager. He just wanted sleep, for Buddahs sake!
Finally, after the raven-haired boy had calmed down a little, he, Hermione and Ron made it to Potions only five minutes late.
Everybody was already seated at their desks when they arrived, and the Potions Master just sneered and deducted a fair amount of points from Gryffindor. No surprise there.
When the class began their exam, Harry's mind, being susceptible to wandering, did just that. He was supposed to be stirring his potion counter-clockwise, but he was lost in thought. Wondering where the hell he was last night, he suddenly felt a very sharp pain right between his eyes.
Wincing in agony and closing his eyes, snippets of conversation and images flashed in quick succession through his mind. He could distinctly hear "I like Potter's ass" and he could see a pretty blonde boy stumbling across a corridor.
He was in too much pain to be even remotely disturbed, but that pain quickly evaporated as many students began staring at him.
"Ungh. Professor, I'm not feeling well. Could I go to the Hospital Wing?"
In response, he received a dismissive hand-wave from Snape and a curious glance in his direction from a certain blonde Slytherin from the opposite side of the classroom.
Faster than a sweet-toothed person would run toward a three-layered chocolate cake, Harry leaped out of his seat and ran straight out of the dank and ill-lighted room, not even leaving the professor enough time to take away points from Gryffindor.
Instead of going to the Infirmary, the black-haired savior of the wizarding world started walking in the direction of the Room of Requirement. This was his haven, his place to actually think without people constantly badgering him with unanswerable questions about the universe and rubbish like that.
Upon arriving, he paced in front of the door and thought about comfort. Just a place to think peacefully, please.
He would've never expected to see what he saw in a million years, for he was naïve and slightly ignorant to the fact that he had many admirers and possibly stalkers, even though Hermione and Ron would think the opposite and warn him about perverts and homicidal freaks that actually resided at Hogwarts.
As he opened the door, his first glimpse was of…himself. There was an enlarged statue completely devoted to him standing in the middle of the room. 'Hmm. This wasn't what I asked for…' he thought to himself. 'I must've opened somebody's private room or something."
Shortly after spotting the sculpture, which looked remarkably like him, he caught sight of a faintly more shocking and slightly disturbing view. The walls were covered, literally covered, with pictures of all shapes and sizes of Harry, as if the person who visited this room had some sort of infatuation with him.
What shocked him even more was finding the magazines on the dresser next to a king-sized bed; no, not the cutsie little animal magazines. These were filled with semi-naked and naked pictures of the seeker, sometimes in sexy and fetal positions, for example, the dragon (AN: Starsky and Hutch, self explanatory).
He would've fainted dead away if he hadn't been so engrossed in a particular picture, one where he was lying on a bed looking very aroused. He didn't remember posing for any of these shots. Not one. Somebody must've been making Polyjuice potions and stealing his identity.
He received an even bigger shock when he came across another picture, too gross to describe. He glanced at the bottom of the picture and found that the photographer was none other than the menace and annoying twerp, Colin Creevey.
It was just so mind-blowing, someone having this special alcove dedicated to him. It was the final straw for Harry when he came across a particularly endearing shot of him; he discovered a milky white substance near the bottom of the page. He freaked out. A boy had been masturbating to his porno pictures. He was going to have a heart attack from all the shocks he was receiving.
Carefully placing the magazines back where he found them and making sure he didn't touch the offending substance, he was doing some quick thinking. 'The guy must have something personal in here…I need to find out who he is!'
He scanned the room, noting that there were many other items of his that had gone missing sprawled across the floor, for example, his special quill and former Quidditch robes. 'I was looking for those…'
Not having any luck with the floor, Harry began searching the bed. Alas! He found something tucked neatly underneath one the fluffy white pillows. It was book, a seemingly green diary that showed a moving serpent on the front cover and smaller moving white owls in the four corners. 'He even has the color of Hedwig on his diary; he is really messed up."
Flipping the book on its back, he received yet another shock. It was an explosion of a shock that would've probably killed Voldemort lest Harry hadn't killed him the year before.
On the bottom of the back-cover of the book, three words could be distinctly made out in pale shimmering silver:
Draconis Lucius Malfoy
"Oh, well that explains a lot."
Author note: Please review and tell me if you liked it!