"So you're 18" McGonagall put in, trying to steer the conversation away from imminent destruction. Harry gave her a look that just screamed 'kill me now' before completely rearranging his face into a mask of cheerful eagerness, before saying, his voice full of the utter seriousness that can only come from total sarcasm,
"I'd get you a sticker but" Harry paused and guiltily looked pointedly at the bindings,"can't" he shrugged innocently, "sorry". He chuckled at the look on the ersatz transfiguration professor's face. It was clear she'd joined Snape's camp of 'get rid of it already'. However, this suited Harry just fine. If he could just get the rest of them as pissed there was every possibility they'd kill him before Fawkes could interfere.
"Now Mr?" Dumbledore began placating, leaving the question hanging. Harry didn't even look at the blaringly magenta headmaster replica. He was too busy searching the stark hospital wing for subtle differences. Nit-picking the unobvious was more Hermione's forte, but he figured he should know Hogwarts hospital wing well enough by now, to tell it apart from a fake. While he had been out of the learning enrolment at the school for several years, he always, when possible, used Madam Pomfrey's services over St Mungo's. They tended to ask too many questions there, plus it was a much easier place for death eaters and, occasionally worse, reporters, to gain access to.
Harry could find nothing out of place with the wing. He wondered if perhaps the death eater army had won the war despite the destruction of their leader. That would be a real shit, so he decided to ignore that possibility. However, the thought of Pettigrew, who had still managed to stay alive (mostly because he ran away crying whenever Harry turned up at a fight) being declared the next Dark Lord almost made him laugh, very almost.
Dumbledore, it seemed, was growing impatient with waiting for an answer and gave such an Umbridge-like cough that Harry actually did snort. He was saved from answering or an explanation by the next person that walked in the door however, James Potter, older then Harry had ever seen him but still with enough of a resemblance to his order days pictures that Harry was able to recognise him, waltzed into the room, greeting his two best friends jovially.
"Your presence is totally unnecessary and even more unwanted" Snape spat at the man scathingly, trying to glare his existence to dust. James just smiled cheerfully and was about to say something but was cut off by Harry.
"I like having to agree with Snape about as much as house elves enjoy going on strike, but that is just disgusting" Harry said disapprovingly looking at the man designed to look like his long dead father. James glanced concernedly at his clothes wondering what on earth the boy could be going on about. Harry pointedly didn't look at him and addressed Snape.
"Voldemort is dead. Dumbledore is dead. Bellatrix never concerned you. Yet, here I am, here you are. Someone is in charge of this sick stunt and I know it can't be you", he gestured his head towards the elder Potter, "He holds much more angst for you, than for me." Harry paused and all around the room wild looks passed between faces. His statements puzzled them, panicked them but they all stayed silent as they waited for him to continue, Snape the only one whose gaze had not moved from the boy's face.
"You hated him, I can not believe that you would voluntarily bring him back, and yet, again, yet – here we are, there he is, I don't understand. I admit myself… confused" There was such a Voldemort-like tone to his voice it made Snape twitch involuntarily. "You cannot possibly have yet another master to act for, there is no one left to dominate you, because I assure you I don't want to. So why would you do this?" He gestured to the room at large.
"What is it exactly you seem to think I'm doing" asked Snape calculatingly, his anger seemingly overcome by curiosity. Harry ignored him, he was sick of their games, he ignored them all and stared at the ceiling while they whispered and speculated between themselves. He appeared deep in thought, really he was not thinking at all. He was doing his best to think of absolutely nothing – it was all just too complicated. He was shaken back from his nothingness by a new and reassuringly alive, familiar voice.
"Professor Snape, Sir? Flint would like to know if you managed to book the quidditch pitch for Thursday." Draco spared only a cursory curious glance at the restrained boy in the hospital bed, surrounded by teachers and aurors alike, arching his eyebrow at Snape in a way that boded later questioning. Harry cut over any answer Snape may have given.
"Draco, sweetie don't ignore me. You know how I get when I'm ignored." Harry said in a mockingly sweet and seductive voice. Draco actually took several quick steps further away from the crisp-sheeted hospital bed, his mouth hanging open, too shocked to form a question. Eyes darting between his professor and the boy, hoping the latter wasn't about to pounce.
"It's alright Draco, he's just insane" said Snape in a bored tone, he seemed to think the sentence was reassuring.
"Oh Draco isn't scared of me, are you Drakie?" Harry said, again in the mockingly sweet voice, "He loves it when I make him scream. Come closer Dray, I missed you. What's the matter? Daddy in the room? I won't tell him you cried." Harry finished smirking wildly. It turned into full blown laughter when Snape jumped at his throat, too fast for anyone to stop him.
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY GODSON BOY?!" He screamed madly into Harry's laughing face, trying his best to lay hands around Harry's neck while Sirius Black and James Potter did their best to restrain him and pull him away. Harry leaned up into the withdrawing professor's face and whispered so that the whole room could hear.
"I fucked the dirty little death eater senseless" he laughed harder at Snape's redoubled efforts to harm him. While Draco spluttered in the background,
"I never… I don't… he didn't… we… not met… who-"
"Child," Albus began, speaking calmly over everything as if he were simply having a normal conversation, perhaps explaining the technicalities of a difficult charms problem, "You seem rather, disorientated. Are you sure you haven't perhaps confused Draco for another male friend?"
"I'm not a fag, if that's what you're getting at." Stated Harry matter of factly, "Draco was a one off," He paused, seemingly thinking for a moment, then smirked at Snape and continued, "twenty… five- no four and three quarters off, actually. I don't have other male 'friends' though… no actually apart from Draco, (who technically is supposed to kill me, or some such similar thing, so I suppose you really would have to call him a fuck buddy. I mean the polite name is just plain misleading) I don't think I even have any male friends left… pretty sure Neville went down…don't know what with… he might be alive still…" Harry almost seemed to physically shake himself out of his thoughts, "Anyway, point is, I'm not gay, that wouldn't be very appropriate now would it? I've just fucked Draco quite a few times"
"YOU HAVE NOT" shouted Draco indignantly to the room at large, his cheeks coloured a rosy pink. Sirius snorted at the ire of the arrogant little pureblood, but questioned Harry all the same,
"Even if you had, how does that make Draco gay and not you?"
"Sirius that is unnecessary" Dumbledore tried to caution but Harry was already answering.
"And I quote" he said in a monotone voice, something like a newsreader, "Oh Merlin… Oh Merlin… I'm never fucking Nott again, you're so much better" They all looked ready to try and stop him speaking; Draco and Snape looked ready to stop him permanently, so he held up his hand to delay their protests. "You did ask" he said in a friendly manner, before continuing in his monotone, "Potter … you bastard, I haven't bled this much since I was six. That one's probably my favourite quote – it really sums up our relationship best I feel. See Draco's not really gay gay either, he's just been ridden so much he doesn't know any better, probably thinks he is a vagina – that's why you should never let death eaters baby-sit I guess." Harry finished cheerfully, as Draco crashed out of the hospital wing doors and Snape stood torn between throttling Harry and going after Draco. The rest of the room remained in utter shock, never having thought such heartache for the arrogant Slytherin boy, not understanding how this stranger knew so much.
"Potter…" James Potter said the name quietly, as if just realising what the boy had said.
"Yeees?" Harry answered questioningly.
"You said he called you Potter" James said, in a tone with the excitement of the solving of a mystery, but at the same time dread, like the mystery was perhaps the location of Pandora's box.
"Well he's not about to start calling me Harry now is he?" Harry answered sarcastically.
"H- Harry, Harry Potter, t- that's your name" James Potter managed to stutter out.
"More or less" said Harry, rolling his eyes at the appalling acting the death eaters displayed at this news. There were plenty of audible gasps but not one of them was confident enough of their acting skills to pretend to faint. Harry wondered if perhaps that legacy had died with Quirrel. That would be unfortunate from a purely theatrical point of view.
"My boy, do you realise the seriousness of your allegation?" Dumbledore questioned sternly.
"Probably not, does it matter?" Harry asked in a bored tone. He was doing his best to play along with the death eaters now, in the hope that that would speed things up and his torture could end just that little bit sooner.
"Would you swear it on a wizard's oath?" Dumbledore questioned further. Harry looked at him and shook his head in exasperation and said,
"I swear on my life and magic, that to the best of my knowledge, my name is Harry James Potter." A gold light shone around him momentarily and then disappeared. "Happy?" he asked Dumbledore childishly.
"Albus it just isn't possible" started Minerva.
"I know" said Harry sympathetically sardonic, "Who would have thought you'd ever actually manage to do your job and capture Harry Potter. Granted, I was unconscious, but don't let that rain on your parade, I'm sure I must have been a handful. Now, you know that spell – starts with A and ends with vada kedavra – yes that one. Well if you point that funny stick you carry around with you at me and say those words - that would make your master really happy."
"I swear on my life and magic that my name is Albus Percivial Brian Wulfric Dumbledore" He said it suddenly, cutting off further monologue from Harry. The gold light shone around him momentarily then disappeared. Nothing happened. Unlike when Harry did it no one else was shocked, they all still remained floored by the previous admission.
Except Harry. Harry was shocked. Harry turned white. Harry was forgetting to breathe all over again...
A/N: Thankyou to my readers, special thanks to SirLady Lupin, theonewiththeloveinherheart and Vellouette, for their reviews.
Also, I can only really forsee one more eventual chapter to this story - to resolve the whole 'how, what's different, etc'. A long time ago when I started this story I'm sure I knew where it was going, I'm sure it was going somewhere... These days however, I just don't know anymore - so I'm open to writing people's suggestions if I really like them (or as per usual my viscious plot bunny attacks them) but other then that, I thinks it's likely to be a rather large oneshot.
Katty xx