Title: Hogwarts' School for Incurably Criminal Boys

Category: Harry Potter (c) JK Rowling

Genres: Romance/Drama

Rating: M

Summary: AU HP/DM Welcome to Hogwarts' School for Incurably Criminal Boys, and meet all your fav HP characters--gone wrong.

A Mililion Thanks to Siobhan for looking this over!

Inspired by: OhMagic at Fictionalley

01

Whether it was guilt, or some other emotion otherwise that prompted Aunt Petunia to snap at Dudley when the he was about to throw a tantrum about Harry's head blocking the Dursleys' brand-new fifty-inch plasma TV that morning, for Dudley to save him the last (burnt) bit of bacon, and for Uncle Vernon to actually lug his travel box for him all the way across the street, well, Harry would never know. Nor did he care to, now that he actually thought about it.

But the horrors of sixteen years living under the Dursley's roof were behind him, but when Harry's very nearsighted eyes adjusted to the dimly lit lobby of Hogwarts's School for Incurably Criminal Boys, he was vaguely aware that more torture was to follow.

There was a sour faced old lady who was seated at the desk in the middle of the room. She looked up at his entrance. "Mr. Potter, I presume?" she wore a badge pinned on her lapel that read—Harry squinted, M. McGonagall.

"Y-yes." Harry straightened and nodded, "I'm Harry Potter."

She gave him a pointedly disdainful once-over and then snapped her fingers twice, "Mr. Weasley!"

"Coming." Came a rather drowsy voice.

"Excuse me?"

"Coming, ma'am." The voice amended tiredly.

Harry looked around for the source of the voice. His eyes finally landed on a long figure who was lounging on a threadbare couch in the corner farthest away from where she sat.

The other boy looked about his age, and he had a brilliant mop of crimson hair. Standing up, Harry realized that he only came up to the other's chin. "I need you to take Potter around and get him settled, Mr. Weasley."

"I thought this was my day off." He shot back.

The look that she shot him could have broken glass, and caused even Harry to wince. And after surviving Vernon Dursley, that was saying a lot. But to be honest the only thing that currently unsettled Harry about his uncle was, well…his looks (or lack thereof).

"Would you prefer it not to be your day off, then?" she asked him, "I thought we talked about this, Mr. Weasley. Or if you wish, we'll have another talk, this time with Al—I mean, Dumbledore in attendance."

"Fine, fine, I'll do it." The boy called Weasley nodded grudgingly. Another glass-shattering look—"Ma'am." He added hastily.

Either she intentionally overlooked the sarcasm positively dripping from Weasley's voice, or she didn't realize it, but either way, she waved Harry over, and shoved two pieces of paper into his hand, "Your schedule, Mr. Potter, and the map of the grounds. This here is Ronald Weasley, he will be your guide throughout your day."

"Come on." Ronald Weasley said, and took him by the arm.

Harry saw he had no choice but to follow, so he did. In retrospect, having Ronald Weasley for company was just slightly more appealing than having M. McGonagall breathing down his neck.

-

After the lobby and M. McGonagall and her desk were tucked safely out of sight, the redhead pivoted and gave Harry a long look, "I didn't catch your name." he said finally.

"Oh, um. It's Harry, Harry Potter."

"You can call me Ron, Harry." Ron said, and continued walking, "So…I'm guessing it's your first time in a place like this?"

"A place like this?" Harry blinked.

"A correctional school thing."

"Oh, yeah…I guess."

Ron stopped again, "…What the bloody hell did you do to get here?" he asked; his tone now incredulous.

"What did I do?" Harry blinked again, "I'm, um…kind of confused, sorry."

Ron shook his head. "Did you ever rob a store?"

"No."

"Have you ever gotten in a fight? Or messed around with a gun?"

Harry was bewildered, "No."

"Ever smuggled drugs?"

"No?"

"Set fire to anything intentionally?"

"No! Ron, what's this about?" Harry demanded, getting more and more confused with each question.

"Then what the fuck did you do?" Ron sounded as confused as Harry felt, "Rape someone?" he continued with a grimace.

"No, I didn't. Ron, listen to me--"

"Drive your folks up the wall?"

Harry thought of the Dursleys, his merely existence drove them up the wall, "Um…something like that. But Ron, answer me! What's going on?"

But Ron ignored him, "You drove your folks up the wall? That's all you did? And you got sent here?"

Harry shrugged, "I guess."

Silence. Ron stared at him with his jaw on the ground.

"Does Beauxbatons mean anything to you?" the redhead ventured finally. "Or Drumstrang?"

"I can't say I've ever heard of them, well, except for this one, Hogwarts." Harry answered after a moment of thought.

"…Who brought you here?"

"Um, my Uncle Vernon."

"Not the police?"

"No, Ron."

Ron looked around, the whole place was deserted, except for the two of them, but still, he lowered his voice, "Hogwarts, Durmstrang, and Beauxbatons are the top three correctional facilities in London, mate. You've gotta have done something terrible to get in. Hogwarts houses people from sixteen to twenty, after that, you move up to Durmstrang. Driving your folks up the wall doesn't cut it, usually. Unless you poisoned them…Did you poison them?"

"No."

"Then why the fuck are you here?" Ron demanded.

"I don't know." Harry's head felt like it was about to split. "Could you please not yell?"

Ron quieted some, and they started walking again. But all the way through Harry's tour of the mess hall, he kept up a running commentary of his disbelief.

To be honest, Harry himself didn't quite believe it either.

It was when they left the mess hall that Harry realized that, to his horror, that his trunk was still in the lobby. "Ron?"

"Yeah?"

"I left my trunk in the lobby."

But Ron dismissed the matter with a casual wave his hand, Harry noticed that the other had a tattoo of a rat on his palm. "McGonagall, or excuse me, Madame McGonagall will arrange it to be sent to your room. She was a bitch to me today, but usually she's all right. Just remember to call her ma'am."

"And um, just curious, but who's Dumbledore?"

"He's the Headwarden of Hogwarts, he used to be the head of Drumstrang a few years back, but he wanted to have a change of pace." Ron said, "Don't let her tell you otherwise, McGonagall's sleeping with him, I swear to God."

Harry was suddenly struck with a very unpleasant image of McGonagall naked. "Oh."

"Stuck being tour guide again, Weasel King?" a smug voice cut in. "You keep this up, and the bitch outside won't be the only one sharing Dumbledore's bed…or was it McGonagall's ass you were after? I thought you had a thing with bearded men?"

Harry and Ron both pivoted at the same time and Ron's face and ears turned pink when he faced the newcomer who had spoken, "Fuck you, Malfoy."

The boy Ron called 'Malfoy' only smirked at this and crossed his arms; he seemed to be rather scrawny, but the two human boulders that flanked Malfoy were enough to make anyone think twice about throwing a punch. "Crabbe and Goyle aren't in a good mood today, are you boys?" he said.

Which one was Crabbe and which one was Goyle, Harry didn't know, but they both grunted affirmative.

"So you better watch your language, Weasel King, if you know what I mean." And with that, Malfoy turned from the fuming Ron to a confused Harry, "Now, this one… I might think different."

"Think…different?" Harry's face felt just the slightest bit warm.

"Yes. Think differently." Malfoy affirmed conversationally, reaching out a hand, he touched the side of Harry's face, "Very different, actually."

"…Malfoy, don't you dare…" Ron breathed.

"Don't I dare what?" Malfoy threw him a wayward look full of spite and turned back to Harry, now pale and rooted to the spot, "Tell me your name."

Fingers were on his lips, smooth, warm fingers. "Harry Potter."

Malfoy leaned close.

And then closer…

And then as if Harry had suddenly awakened, he jerked away from the blond boy's hold. "Don't…touch me, Malfoy." He managed to say after gulping air. He hadn't been breathing at all, Harry realized. "Don't you—dare touch me."

Ron too, had seemed to recover some, taking Harry firmly by the arm, "Come on, Harry."

"Go ahead." Malfoy's voice pierced through the air swiftly behind them, "Let Weasel King fuck you, then. He's always had a thing for helpless little whores."

"I'm not a wh--" Harry started indignantly.

Ron's hand clapped firmly over his mouth, "Leave it, Harry. Let's go."

--

"You'd do well to stay away from him, Harry." Ron said darkly after they left the blond boy and his goons behind. "Draco Malfoy used to head the Slytherins, and even though he's here now, he's still got a lot of people who're loyal to him on the outside."

Harry's lips felt stiff, "The Slytherins?"

"You don't know who they are?" Ron looked surprised, "Geez, you haven't been out much, have you? The Slytherins are only one of the bloodiest mobs in London. Not much else, really."

"Stop joking."

"I'm not joking." Ron was just a bit miffed at this suggestion, "You better watch your back now. Refusing Malfoy like that…you've got nerve, Harry."

"Um…thanks?" Harry really wasn't sure whether to take this as a compliment or not.

But Ron didn't seem to notice, "Come to think of it, I think you're the first one that refused him outright like that…and considering that half the guys here are ex-Slytherins you might have a bit of a problem."

A bit of a problem? "Only a bit, Ron?"

Ron looked uncomfortable, "Um…I didn't mean to scare you, Harry."

"If getting my head plummeted in a toilet's going to become routine, I want to know, damn it, Ron!" Harry took the redhead by the shoulders and shook him. "Tell me!"

"…They've done worse." Was all Ron chose to offer in return, "Come to think of it…they even gang raped someone before. Does that make you feel better?"

"Ron…"

"What? You're the one that wanted to know." After seeing Harry's expression though, Ron clapped him not unkindly on the shoulder, "Well, okay, look at it this way, you're not here on a rape or murder charge, so obviously they're not going to put you in the Max section. You only have to see Malfoy from 5:30 in the morning to 9:30 at night. They have to spend free time until 10in their cells."

"Haha, very funny." Harry said dryly.

Ron hastily changed the subject, "I'll show you to your cell then, I think there's still time before dinner. Where'd they put you?"

Harry took out the folded sheet of paper McGonagall had given him. "It says here I'm in Block A, what does that mean?"

"Block A?" Both of Ron's eyebrows shot up in alarm, "They put you in Block A? That can't be right."

"…That's what it says." Harry shoved the piece of paper in Ron's face, "Look."

"I don't believe it." Ron stared hard at the paper, as if pure will could cause the right words to materialize, "I don't believe it."

"Why can't you?" The moment the words left Harry's mouth, he wished he had kept his mouth shut.

"The letter blocks A through E house top notch people." Ron told him, handing back the sheet, "This includes murder, assult, and you know, shit like that."

"Maybe they ran out of room?"

"Possibly." But still Ron didn't look too convinced, "But still, Block A. That's harsh."

Harry ventured tentatively, "Ron, what's um, so bad about Block A?"

"The fact aside that Draco Malfoy is in Block A, really not much else."

For a moment there, Harry did actually felt comforted, "Oh, that's—what?"

A sharp buzzing interrupted Ron as he opened his mouth to speak. As the buzzing continued, Ron managed a smile, "Look on the bright side Harry, Malfoy keeps away from my lot. So at least you can stay out of his way during dinner. Let's go eat now."

Harry was really running out of bright sides to look at.