Disclaimer: I still don't own HP or Pasila.
Chapter 3 - On the Unhappy Cloud Nine
Unfortunately, James was greatly weakened by his hang-over and therefore not much of a sprinter. He leaned heavily on the wall and tried not to throw up on the McGonagall-Lockhart's shoes. She had followed him and she was clearly not amused by her Head Boy's behaviour.
"Potter, you'll go patrolling, now! We shall arrange your detention later"
James racked his brain for a suitable reason why he should be relieved from his duties for today.
"I don't feel well. I'd better go back to sleep. Sick leave. I can't face people."
"A mere hang-over is what the man has. A useless Head Boy. Well, go ahead, then. But next week you'll work triple time amongst your detentions"
James managed not to kiss his professor out of gratitude.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you," he whispered to McGonagall before heading off as fast as was possible without being too rude.
x~x
"Okay, calm down," James muttered to himself. "You've had food; you've got a day off. Now, you'll get back to the tower and hide in the dormitory till tomorrow."
James was stuck in a crowd of fifth-year Gilderoy Lockharts, who were waiting for their Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson. The corridor was completely blocked, so James had to slow down and pick his way through the badly organised bunch. Normally he would have just told the people to make way before he took off points or hexed them, but today he was simply lacked the energy. Besides he was not entirely sure whether anyone would have taken him seriously as he was busy staring at his shoes to avoid seeing a corridor full of Lockharts.
"Do you know why Madam Puddifoot's doesn't sell raspberry pie anymore?" A whiney nasal voice gnawed its way to James' consciousness.
"Yeah, it's been withdrawn," some girl muttered absent-mindedly.
"Well, I knew that. That's why I asked why."
"People didn't really buy it." The whiney's partner in conversation sounded like she would rather be swallowing live flobberworms than talk to him. "Plus it tasted awful. Plus children died of it, or so the legend goes."
"Well, people did buy it, then. She would've had a buying customer, here. I would've wanted that pie. Is that not buying, what? Am I not a customer, what?" The boy was obviously not the sharpest knife in the drawer.
"It's not really in my power to decide. Would you mind dropping the business?"
"Of course I would. If I didn't, I wouldn't be talking about it. A stupid answer to a stupid question."
James felt a vein explode.
"That's it," he hissed. "Let's go, you."
"Who the hell are you?" the whiney asked. The girl he had been talking to seized to opportunity to vanish to the background.
James could not believe his ears. Who was he? Did that nasal-voiced imbecile honestly not recognise him?
"James Potter, the Head Boy. You annoy me like hell right now. Take your things and come. You're in for a detention." James grabbed the boy by a shoulder.
"I'm not going anywhere," the whiney said hostilely and slapped James.
A bad move, as it turned out. James, who had built up his strength in Quidditch and monthly werewolf-wrestling, hit the whiney as hard as he possibly could. The rest of the students were busy looking elsewhere as James dragged the now unconscious source of his irritation along the corridor.
x~x
"This is against the rules," the whiney complained as James walked him on by a wand point.
James rolled his eyes. He was breaking the rules. Oh dear.
"You hit the Head Boy," James answered through clenched teeth and jabbed him with his wand.
"Well you gave me detention already before that."
"I really don't have time to think about your problems right now. So shut up. Grow as a person. Cut your own throat. Go to the Moon." James paused to think for a moment. "No, wait, the muggles did that already. But cut your own throat, here's a knife." He conjured a scary-looking butcher's knife and offered it to the whiney the sharp edge first, nearly cutting off his ear.
"Don't bloody hell," the whiney squealed, voice rising with at least two octaves. "Put away, that!"
James paused to think again. Then, he vanished the knife.
"It's starting to get a bit scary, this thing what I'm doing," he muttered.
"Well, yes it is!" The whiney was rather pale and eyeing James with a look of mixture fear and anger.
"Oh, so you think so too?"
"Hell, yeah!"
"All right, then. Go in there," James said to the whiney flatly, pointing at a broom cupboard.
"What? You can't-" The boy's complaints were cut off by James, who unceremoniously shoved him in the cupboard and slammed the door shut.
"Keep him there for a few hours, will you?" James said to Peter quietly. "I've got to go back to the dormitory." He waited for Peter to nod, thanked him and then he was off again.
"Abuse of power in a system of justice," Peter muttered, fascinated. "It's sure exciting..."
"Potter!"
James groaned. It could not be McGonagall again.
"Firstly, intoxicated have you been at school."
"We've already had this conversation," James pointed out.
McGonagall ignored him.
"Secondly, you were late and skipped a class. Why do you have your eyes closed?"
"Got sand in my eyes," James lied. A Lockhart-faced McGonagall yelling at him was something he did not want to see.
"Thirdly, why did you shut an innocent person in a broom cupboard? Nothing he had done."
Normally the stern transfiguration professor would probably have blown through the roof if she saw James locking students in cupboard, but now she seemed to be merely irritated as she waited for him to answer.
"Oh, nothing, is that so?" James huffed. "He hit me! Hitting the Head Boy was against the rules, when I last checked!"
"When did you check?" McGonagall asked with completely straight face. "Might have changed, that rule."
"What?"
"Rules change quickly," McGonagall said calmly. "The world changes. Pace quickens. People change, grow older. Become demented. Start to stray from the subject. Talk about strange things. Blabber and blabber. The boy standing next to me stares with confusion. There will be no end to the talking. Sentences follow one another. Embarrassing situations. Do have mercy and interrupt!"
McGonagall's tone had become more panicked by the second.
"Medication, professor," James said dully.
"Don't work, these pills. I'll get along without them." She downed a few, anyway. "Strictly I'll stick to the business. What were we talking about?"
James kept telling himself that he honestly did not want to know, what exactly Sirius had done with McGonagall's tranquillisers.
"We talked about how I shut an innocent person in a broom cupboard, professor."
"Oh really?" McGonagall's eyes widened in outrage. "Why did you do that?"
"He annoyed me. He's one of those people, who are a danger to themselves. Sooner or later, he'll get himself killed by the Quidditch pitch." James had a feeling that his professor might not appreciate his reasoning. On the other hand, the feeling might just have been a side-effect of his agonizing headache.
"You are more deranged than I am!" she snapped, destroying James' side-effect -theory. "Now, release him at once!"
"Yes, professor," James sighed.
x~x
"Dawlish! What's the meaning of this? Why aren't you on your lesson?" Snape's voice lashed out.
"It wasn't my fault!" the whiney, apparently by the name of Dawlish, complained.
"How come?" Snape sneered. "Ten points from Ravenclaw."
"That's not fair! He stopped me from going." Dawlish pointed at James, who was leaning against a wall in total despair, his eyes closed again.
Snape glared at James and slid his wand out of his pocket. He had not even noticed his nemesis due to his uncharacteristically subdued behaviour.
"Not my problem, Dawlish. Another ten points from Ravenclaw, for disrespect towards a Prefect."
"Would you just drop it, Snape?" James groaned, still facing the wall. He honestly did not know what he would do, if he was subjected to nasal-sounds for a minute longer.
"You Potter, keep your filthy mouth shut!" Snape snarled as his curse swept James' feet from beneath him.
The sound of Potter's head making contact with the stone floor was the most musical thing Severus could recall hearing in quite a long time.
James' temper flared again. He tried to ignore the infernal throbbing in his head born from the mixture of already painful hang-over and hitting his forehead to the floor, as he ducked Snape's second curse. Dawlish had displayed a remarkable lack of self-preservation skills by remaining between James and Snape. He regretted it almost immediately, since a stray curse from Snape hit him and his ears promptly sprouted eggplants. James' leg-locker curse was more accurate, and Snape fell to the floor, losing his wand in the process. Wide-eyed Dawlish sprinted to the direction of the hospital-wing, while James started hauling colourfully swearing Snape towards the broom cupboard.
x~x
"You shut a Prefect in that closet, then."
James stared. Was McGonagall following him around?
"No. Well, yes," McGonagall answered, and James realised he had been muttering his thoughts aloud. Luckily, McGonagall did not press the subject.
"Why did you close Mr. Snape in that cupboard?"
"He's a ticking time-bomb," James grumbled.
"That's not against the rules."
"It should be! Sooner or later, he's going to kill someone by the Quidditch pitch." James held back a derisive snort. If anyone in this school was on his way of becoming a bloodthirsty Death Eater, it would be Snape.
"Now you'll go and release him at once. By Merlin, weren't you supposed to go back to bed, already?"
"I have been on my way all the time." James moaned desperately.
McGonagall followed James to ensure that he really would release Snape from the broom cupboard. If looks were curses, the house-elves would have had to mop James' remains from the floor, but since McGonagall was still present, the seething Slytherin had to slip quietly to the dungeons to plot his revenge.
A member of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, who had apparently been watching for quite some time, approached James, probably fearing for his captain's sanity.
"James, hey, you've closed two people in a broom cupboard without any reason. Do you have a bad day or something? Cap'n, hey, talk to me, I'll listen. Tell me what's on your mind."
Okay, maybe the newest member of the team was not as much concerned as he was kissing up to James.
"Well, hell yeah, I have a bad day!" James snapped, nailing the poor kid where he stood with a furious look. "If you only knew how much you and everyone else look like one fucking annoying-"
James chocked on his rant as he realised that he was not looking at yet another Lockhart-clone, but a somewhat startled third-year. Despite his still-throbbing head and violent waves of nausea, he did a little happy-dance.
"It can't be true!" he exclaimed. "It's over! It's over! Phil Collins is over! Yes!" James' smile was so euphoric that it was disturbing. "How exceptionally pleasant feeling, this is..." James shook hands with his now truly concerned Seeker and practically skipped towards the stairs.
Behind him, he heard David the Seeker saying:
"Hey, weren't you on the Wireless today? My mother's read your book."
James felt happiness drain from him faster than near a Dementor. He squealed in terror.
"That's great." Lockhart flashed a sparkling white smile at David. "What did you mean with that noise?" he asked, closing his hand around James' arm not unlike a shackle.
"Nothing," James said, his eyes, once again, tightly shut. "Let me go."
"You are the one that doesn't listen," Lockhart recognised James.
"Yes, let me go, let me go, let me go!" James started to panic.
Completely oblivious Lockhart grasped James' shoulder with his free hand in a would-be friendly fashion.
"It's sad, when a person doesn't listen."
"Yes, it is. Now, let me go! Now!" James ripped himself free and sprinted up the stairs.
x~x
James was so close to freedom. Lockhart was obviously not in very good physical condition, because, despite his rather feeble state, James had already put a reasonable distance between the two of them. Then he slipped on the remains of Sirius' paint-bomb and stumbled backwards – locking his leg in a trick step.
"Dammit!" James nearly screamed, cursing every deity and demon in existence. He would skin his idiot for a best friend alive for this.
"Do you know, what my book says about swearing?" James could feel that smile burn a hole in his back.
"I don't know. Go. Away."
"Swearing is a safe way to say to another: 'I care about you'."
"It isn't safe at Hogwarts." James struggled violently to pull his leg free.
Lockhart was evidently not going to have mercy on him. Instead of helping James up, he pulled out a shiny leather-bound book.
"I'll read to you a chapter of my book Sometimes It Is Good to Climb a Mountain. This chapter is called: Are We Together a Twosome, Or Are the Two of Us a One Some?"
Dear Merlin, please, this can't be happening. Kill me, Voldemort, anyone! Panicking thoughts surged through James' mind. Lockhart opened his book, smiling serenely to the boy who was forced to listen to him at last.
"'One of my earliest relationships was based entirely on symbiosis. The word in itself may sound dreadful, and that it, of course, is. Symbiosis, that hawk of all hawks, wolf of all wolves...'"
James passed the narrow line between hyperventilation and outright psychosis. Phil Collins –hang-over was violently renewed and he actually started to see multiple Lockharts even though the corridor was empty save for them two. James ripped his leg free from the staircase, and with a mad glint in his eyes, he snatched Lockhart in an improvised half-nelson and started to drag the protesting blonde up the stairs.
x~x
"This has got to be illegal! Or at least against the school rules!" Lockhart wailed with what little breath he had left.
"Yea, right," James panted as he pushed the source of his annoyance to the alcove on the top of the Astronomy tower. "I think we ought to stay up here for a while and think things through."
"What's wrong with you?" Lockhart finally seemed to realise that James was not craving for his company, and he obviously found that hard to understand.
"You have ruined my whole day and unhinged me completely," James shouted. "You'll get to fix it now! I haven't been able to work a second today. I have assaulted harmless arseholes. I broke my Wireless. And that's all your fault! I have a horrible hang-over! And when my professor's medication kicks in again I'll be sure to get expelled! We are about as close as we'll get to climbing a mountain, now. So what shall we do?" James found it curiously therapeutic to yell out his frustration to the cause of it.
Good humour and mild astonishment vanished from Lockhart's face and were replaced with anger of a man wronged and betrayed. He obviously considered James' dislike of him at least an Azkaban-worthy offence.
"If you think I'm so annoying, why don't you just leave me alone?"
James' jaw dropped
"Me leave you alone? Why don't you leave me alone?"
"Because you are so pathetic!"
"You are pathetic!" James felt like pulling out his hair.
"Stop messing up your hair! It's terrible enough already. Do something useful!" Lockhart snapped angrily.
James fell ominously silent.
"Yeah," he said quietly. Strangely enough, I, too, feel like that would be a good move right now."
Lockhart did not even have time to blink before James' fist made contact with his face, and he fell against the doorframe, spluttering blood. Then James grabbed the man by the front of his expensive silken robes, ripping them in the process, and proceeded to throw him down the stairs.
x~x
AN1: You know, what I want you to do.