One night, many moons ago, I had a wonderful night on a metric ton of edibles and I came up with this idea. Enjoy this journey into hysteria.
Chapter 1: The Obligatory Gringotts Summons
Harry James Potter miserably pulled another weed out of the garden that ran underneath the front windows. It was really hot out today. Record-breaking according to the news. Harry was barely given four minutes to eat the leftovers from the breakfast he'd cooked before he was told to start his chores. He'd asked if it was alright to wait until later in the day when the sun began to dip, but his uncle's face turned purple and the veins in his neck bulged in response. A threat of being denied lunch or dinner, again, sent him out the door faster than that cartoon American bird.
One would think that constantly being starved by his abusive relatives would leave him as stunted and underdeveloped as an anorexic hamster, but he was somehow just slightly skinny and of average height for his age. Harry supposed the fact he had magic prevented this, or perhaps it was because he ate regularly while attending Hogwarts. They were the only logical explanations.
His thoughts on logic paradoxes aside, the sound of footsteps behind him caused Harry to look up.
"Hello, juvenile delinquent. Bugger of a day, isn't it?" The nondescript and unimportant mailman asked, grinning as if he'd just bit into a lemon.
"It's crap and I'm worried about getting a heatstroke," Harry answered with a scowl.
"Indeed. Well here's the mail for the day. There's even something for you," the mailman replied, handing over six envelopes. "Have a jolly good day lad!"
Harry didn't bother wishing the man a good day back, though he was glad for an excuse to get out of the heat. Standing up and brushing the dirt off his baggy pants, he went inside and walked into the dining room. The air conditioning felt divine on his sweat-covered face and arms. Vernon was distracted in the living room watching a football match between Manchester United and Not Manchester United, growling threats of breaking the telly when Manchester lost control of the ball.
Going through the mail yielded the same boring post as usual. Electric bill, water bill, a credit card offer, an offer to finance a vehicle he wouldn't be able to afford, a letter from an ultra-wealthy politician asking for donations, and… an official letter addressed to him from Gringotts. What could Gringotts want that they couldn't send by owl? Setting the rest of the mail on the dining table, Harry quickly tore the wax seal and opened the discolored envelope. Inside was a folded piece of parchment with the wordsFor Your Eyes Onlywritten on it. That was… odd.
Great Bond movie, though. Not as good as License To Kill, but what Bond film was?
Peaking his head into the living room to make sure his uncle was still engrossed with his football match, Harry shuffled up the stairs as quietly as possible. He didn't have to worry about bothering anyone upstairs at the moment; Dudley was off with his gang doing gang things, and Aunt Petunia was with her book club for the fourth day in a row this week. She'd mentioned something at breakfast about a new book she 'couldn't get enough of' or some such thing. Whatever the case, it was the perfect opportunity to read the letter now, instead of later.
An excited chirp greeted him when he entered his bedroom.
"Hey, girl. Enjoying yourself?" Harry affectionately asked.
Hedwig, his wonderful snowy owl familiar, flew over and landed on his shoulder. Harry felt a light poke when her talons dug in for a second so she could get her balance. He wasn't concerned about her drawing blood. She was always careful. He gently ran his fingers over her forehead, smiling when she leaned into his touch.
When Harry had exited Platform Nine and Three-Quarters at the end of his fourth year, Vernon had given him the same speech about keeping Hedwig locked in her cage while he was there for the summer. If Harry didn't follow this command, Vernon said he would turn the bird into a tacky hat. Not once, however, did his uncle come into his room to check if he was obeying, and after two weeks Harry let his friend out to stretch her wings. Should his uncle actually barge in and try to hurt Hedwig, Harry would just threaten him with Sirius.
Opening the folded paper, Harry sat down in his old chair and started reading. "Dear Mr. Potter, we are pleased to inform you that you have received an official summons regarding your recent emancipation during the Triwizard Tournament held during the last Hogwarts school year. We have sent you a dozen letters by owl and you have yet to respond to any of them," Harry read aloud. They what? "If you do not arrive at Gringotts within 48 hours of opening this letter to speak with us about your status as an adult, your inheritance, your marriage contract, your parent's estate, and whatever else we can think of that sounds important, an officer will be dispatched to collect you by force."
Well, that was a little alarming.
Hehadwondered why he wasn't getting any mail from his friends all summer. Considering everything that happened during the last year, the complete silence from Ron and Hermione was borderline infuriating. However, if mail from his bank was somehow not reaching him, did that mean something was going on with the postal system keeping Harry from getting any of their letters? Perhaps he should write to Professor Dumbledore about the situation later today. Since it was only 10:30 he would have plenty of time to shower and hail the Knight Bus.
Yes. He'd write to Dumbledore when he got back. Hopefully, the man wasn't too busy with something important and would respond as soon as possible.
Meanwhile, thousands of miles away
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore gazed deeply into the fireplace of his office. The flames crackled like a bowl of Rice Krispies and moved like an epileptic snake on ecstasy. While the Headmaster's Office of Hogwarts was always kept at a comfortable temperature due to several charms and enchantments, Dumbledore enjoyed the feel of a warm fire close to his desk. It gave his office a nice, cozy, grandfatherly atmosphere.
Plus, it also allowed him to burn any paper material that needed to be destroyed. Sure, he could just use his wand and banish things away, but that just wasn't thorough enough.
Sitting atop the logs was a stack of envelopes addressed to one Harry Potter, all from Gringotts. Albus couldn't open the mail due to the powerful goblin magic used in the seal, but thankfully the seal didn't protect the paper from burning in a good old-fashioned muggle fireplace. Quite an oversight on the part of the goblins. One which seemed highly implausible if you thought about it.
Oh well. Better for him and his plans.
"I'm truly, very sorry Harry. This is the way it has to be," Dumbledore mumbledored to himself. He knew that Harry would be able to sign emancipation paperwork now, due to being forced to compete in the Triwizard Tournament. But if he did that, it would destroy 14 years of work and planning Dumbledore had spent ensuring Harry was kept docile. Had Harry been a more social and outgoing boy, there was a chance he would have rejected the help of the Weasleys when they 'randomly' ran into the boy at the entrance to the Hogwarts Express. If Albus was to finally defeat Tom, as was his duty as the Defender of the LightTM, he needed Harry dependent on the Weasley family. Harry had to trust the LightTM. He had to be strong.
And what better way to make someone strong and well-adjusted than force them to grow up in an abusive household, isolated from normal human beings? It had worked wonders on Gellert up until that nasty Dark Lord business, then it kind of didn't work wonders.
"For the Greater GoodTM," the aged wizard lamented to himself.
Turning away from the burning parchment, Dumbledore sat back at his desk and looked over the list of candidates he'd compiled for the I'm Only Here For The Year Defense Against The Dark ArtsTM professor. As much as the student body had adored Remus Lupin as their teacher, he was out of the running. He'd already used up his Year, obviously. And after that debacle where Barty Crouch Jr had infiltrated the school to resurrect Tom, the pressure was on from many different parties for him to find a respectable teacher. Alas, if only Barty had consulted him on his plans to help bring back Tom. At least then Albus could have mitigated the fallout that resulted afterward.
He was the only one allowed to scheme convoluted plots, dammit!
Anyway, back to his list of possible professors.
Amelia Bones? She could possibly be persuaded to temporarily step down as head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and teach the students. The woman was wise and powerful, not as much as Albus, of course, but she was up there for sure in the Tier Ranking. There was the option to tug on her heartstrings by mentioning some vague and scary-sounding threat that could endanger Amelia's niece Susan. Normally a person would need some kind of evidence to back up such a claim, especially to a magical cop. But, if Fox News proved anything, it was that you could just make things up whenever it tickled your fancy.
"But the risk involved of her figuring out what I'm doing… " Dumbledore whispered. "No. Too much chance of my plans falling apart."
Kingsley Shacklebolt? A strong wizard with a solid background in the DMLE, having worked under Amelia for many years.
"Kingsley could teach the students a few things about law enforcement. Hedoeshave a degree from University of Phoenix Online in Forensic Psychology. It would certainly make for an interesting course syllabus," Dumbledore admitted. "But I need him in the field tracking down Death Eaters."
Albus was very lucky that most of the Slytherin students came from DarkTM families. Yep. Not a single good student or family among them. Sometimes he wondered why he didn't just abolish the House since so many evil students were sorted into it.
Well, there were the Greengrasses. The sisters were very smart, and Daphne Greengrass was an excellent student. She'd scored top of her class in the Self-Insert Characters elective, barely beating Susan Bones due to her How To Be An Ice Queen essays.
What was he talking about? Oh yeah, Shacklebolt. No, his skills were needed elsewhere.
Severus Snape? Dumbledore was saving him for the next book.
Dante Sparda? Too crazy and too cool.
Itachi Uchiha? In another dimension participating in a convoluted plot involving his brother.
Lady Death? Sadly she was too edgy to teach a group of witches and wizards. Plus, her attractive body might distract Harry from young Virginia Molly Weasley. They were destined to be married one day, after all.
The Doctor? He'd been missing since 1989, and even Dumbledore had no clue of his whereabouts.
Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way? Hmmm….. absolutely not. Not even the Greater GoodTM could convince Dumbledore to hire that woman.
"So many choices. They could all go horribly wrong or horribly right," Dumbledore mused. "Ah well. I still have the next two months to find someone suited for the position. For now, I should visit with Sirius and see if he is finding his old home adequate."
But first, he thought, as he reached for a Mr. GreaterGoodbar out of his snack drawer.