A/N: The normal Harry Potter had a bit of trouble controlling his temper. The Denarian Harry Potter has a lot of trouble controlling his temper. You shall see. A lot of reviewers have complained that Harry is immature and childish. Good, that's exactly the angle I was going for. I want my story to be original and I've never seen it done like this before in a story that wasn't a parody. Still, Harry will mature…slowly…over this book, and he is capable of acting rationally at times.
The next morning saw the Great Hall filled with the loud buzz of casual conversation. A high-pitched and quite annoying laugh cackled from the Hufflepuff table from one of the third years as her classmate snorted Pumpkin juice from his nose. One end of the Ravenclaw table seemed to be involved in a rabid debate, their faces red with annoyance and even anger as they argued animatedly over some arcane topic. Still, at one point or another every single student's eyes had rested on the large wooden doors that signified the entrance of the Great Hall, all wondering whether the newest arrival to the Hogwarts student body would be coming down for breakfast.
Dumbledore had given them a quick speech, asking them to respect Harry's privacy and cautioning them to give him a wide berth if necessary. The entire school had been witness to the spectacle last night and the rumours were already making their way through the entire school. From a secret society of knights, to a group of dark wizards, to Death Eaters, to muggle mobsters, and a conspiracy amongst the Hit Wizards of Germany, everybody knew that Harry was in some sort of trouble. The younger years, especially some of the females, talked about it with wistful tones, while the older years who had gotten to know Harry last time made a mental note to stay out of the bad tempered wizard's way. They remembered his scathing tongue quite well.
There was a sudden hush and the entire hall, Professors and all, glanced up as a new arrival entered the hall, wearing robes bearing the Gryffindor House crest and an awkward scowl on his face.
When Harry had woken up, feeling quite refreshed and released, he had been surprised to see a heap of clothing and books lying at the end of his bed. Shuddering at the thought of Dumbledore coming in to watch him sleep, Harry had reluctantly changed out of his clothes and put on the robes. To his surprise, they were quite comfortable- even if he did look like an idiot. He had briefly scanned the books, noting that most of them bore names such as 'The Standard Book of Spells: Grade Five' and 'Defensive Magical Theory' - the latter sounding quite interesting. There were, however, a few unnamed books with dusty covers and cracked spines. Harry had a brief glance at them and saw that they delved into some of the more forbidden areas of magic, including the casting of powerful, dark magic.
“Dumbledore, you old sleaze,” Harry had muttered appreciatively. “And here I was thinking that you were innocent.”
'Beware, beloved,' Meciel had warned. 'If Dumbledore wants you to grow in power then there must be a very good reason for it.'
“I know, I know,” Harry had finished with a sigh.
He had shoved all of his books into a small bag and, with the help of Meciel, had lightened and reduced it to the point where it was like carrying a bulging wallet. Afterwards, he had felt his stomach growling with hunger and, with a sigh, had braced himself and walked down to the Great Hall.
And there he was, standing in the middle of the doorway with all of Hogwarts staring at him.
Harry scowled, his eyes glinting angrily, and many students quickly turned away, avoiding eye contact and resuming their conversations with louder-than-necessary voices. Ignoring the stares, Harry strode over to the Gryffindor table and sat down with a sigh.
From across the table, a tall, gangly red-head with brown eyes, rather big ears and a startled expression on his face blinked.
“Hi,” Ron said awkwardly, staring Harry up and down. There was a tense silence as Harry clenched his first, but restrained himself. “Um...I've never seen you in robes before?”
Harry looked up, scowling so hard that Ron blanched. The tips of his ears flamed red as his cheeks paled and he glanced away, apparently seeking courage from a pudgy boy Harry remembered as Neville.
“What was that about yesterday?” Neville spoke up bravely and a silence descended upon that quarter of the Gryffindor table.
“Yeah, they looked like they wanted to skewer you,” Ron added in helpfully.
“Shut up,” Harry snapped testily, his eyes burrowing into Ron's with a angry glint.
'Temper, beloved,' Meciel cautioned.
Ron sighed at Harry's anger and dropped the subject. Harry ignored the looks that Neville and Ron exchanged and the whispers starting to pop up all over the hall and dug into a plate of steaming bacon and toast. His anger was still burning within him and it took a lot of effort to restrain his tongue and his temper.
A few moments later, Harry heard the soft footsteps of somebody approaching him from behind. He glanced over his shoulder and almost sighed as he saw McGonagall approach him with a stern expression on her face.
“Mr Potter, this is your schedule,” she greeted him stiffly. Harry took the piece of parchment from her with a grunt of acknowledgement, hoping that the greying witch would go away.
Unfortunately, she didn't.
“I understand that you are here in perilous circumstances,” McGonagall said severely, although Harry could have thought her tone softened just a tad. “Nonetheless, I will not have a repeat performance of your despicable behaviour from last year. Am I clear?”
Harry scowled, an arrogant smile crossing his face, and he opened his mouth. However, a mental prod from Meciel caused him to halt whatever he was about to say.
'Is it worth dying for?'
Harry scowled and a visible shudder ran through his body as he audibly snapped his mouth and gave a sharp nod. McGonagall looked pleased and strolled away as Harry turned back to his breakfast, digging his fork into his breakfast in a series of vicious jabbing movements.
'Make a note,' he said tightly.
'I'm listening, beloved,' Meciel said wryly, although she sounded amused.
'Every time she does something like that, we kill a kitten.'
Meciel's response went unheard as a furious, shrill voice erupted from in front of him. His gaze shot up and he gave a loud mental groan, much to the amusement of Meciel, as a bushy-haired girl with an immaculately polished badge pinned to her robes stood before him, her hands on her hips.
“You!” Hermione said with a furious scowl. Harry blinked at the amount of raw hatred he could see in her eyes. Sure, he had annoyed her, but he hadn't thought he had been bad enough to warrant that. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh, you know, the usual,” Harry said with a loud drawl and enjoyed the sight of Hermione flushing with anger. “Sitting down, eating breakfast, doing a bit of breathing as well- I like breathing.”
Hermione let out a growl- an honest to God growl- and even Harry was a little taken back.
“My, you weren't this twitchy last year,” Harry murmured with a smirk. “Something bad must have happened…and you think I was involved some way. Hmm…you weren't raped, were you? I hear that makes women go and do all sorts of crazy shit…”
“How dare you!” Hermione snapped and her hand plunged into her robes, presumably for her wand. Harry was faster and his wand was in his hand in an instant, his eyes narrowed yet surprise showing on his face.
Suddenly there was a calming hand on Hermione's shoulder and another girl appeared. Harry spotted long blonde hair, sparkling grey eyes and the features of a family that he very much detested, and he groaned loudly.
Amanda raised her eyebrows but looked amused at Harry's reaction as she gently led Hermione to a seat, whispering soothing words into her ears and calming the bushy-haired girl down. Harry idly noted that both girls had grown up a little, filling out in some of the best places and retreating in some of the worst. After Amanda was done with Hermione, she strode back to Harry and sat down next to him. Much to his disgust, she gave him a hug.
“Nice to see you too, Harry,” she said cheerfully, patting Harry on the back. Harry had stiffened and was gritting his teeth, his eyes flashing with anger.
Amanda must have sensed his tenseness because she abruptly backed away, looking awkward. Harry ignored her and turned back to his food with a roll of his eyes.
“What are you even doing here?” Harry muttered sourly, poking at his food with his fork. “Shouldn't you be…somewhere else…that's not here?”
“Well, I liked Hogwarts so much that I decided to transfer here,” Amanda said loudly. Her eyes darted back and forth and she leant in closer to Harry, lowering her voice. “And Dad thought I should stay away from home for a while, you know, just in case.”
“Great,” Harry muttered under his breath. “Just fucking great.”
Hermione was staring at Amanda with death in her eyes, looking furious as the blonde girl chatted to Harry. Harry noticed the bushy-haired girl's glare from the corner of his eye and frowned.
“Okay, what's with frizz-bot over there?” He asked, jerking his thumb at Hermione when the other girl had looked away. “Sure, I daydreamed of hexing her into a pile of sludge but I don't remember doing it.”
“Krum,” was all Amanda said, looking bleak.
Harry blinked at the mention of the dead Durmstrang champion. He hadn't really thought about him at all but he vaguely recalled Hermione going to the Yule Ball as Krum's partner.
'She blames you for his death,' Meciel noted shrewdly. 'This may get interesting.'
“So, that was a nice entrance yesterday,” Amanda said after a moment's pause, and she gave him a wry smile. “It was a bit extreme, though, and I never thought I'd see you down on your knees.”
“Okay, that's it,” Harry said sharply as his temper flared. He slammed his hand down on the table, causing the dishes to rattle and a large portion of the Gryffindor table to stare at him. “The next person to mention anything about last night, and I mean anything, will find my wand so far up their arse that curses will fly from their nose. Got it?”
'Your temper, beloved,' Meciel warned with a sharp note in her voice.
Amanda rolled her eyes but nodded her head, along with many of the other Gryffindors that Harry directed his glare at. After a few moments, after Harry had cut and mangled a piece of bacon into ground meat, she spoke up.
“A bit embarrassing, was it?” She asked sympathetically.
Harry looked at her stonily until she paled and raised her hands in a placating manner.
“Okay,” she said quickly. “I get it.”
Harry grunted.
“So,” Amanda said slowly, changing the subject, and she stared at Harry with curious grey eyes. “I heard you worked with my father a while back. Joined the good side, I see.”
“No,” Harry drawled. “I joined the money side. Quite a lot of it, too.”
“Was it a dangerous job?” Amanda asked carefully and Harry snorted, dismissing Amanda's trepidation with a wave of his hand.
“Vampires are weak,” he said arrogantly. “All they have is numbers and once you box them in, any two-bit wizard can kick their arse.”
“Vampires?” Ron said in disbelief, blinking in surprise from across the table. “You're fighting vampires?”
“No, I'm killing vampires,” Harry said and gave a cold smile. There was a disturbing glint in his emerald eyes as he continued. “There's a difference between a fight and a slaughter, ginger.”
“Ginger?” Ron mouthed to Neville, who shrugged.
“What type?” Hermione asked stiffly from down the table. It seemed as if her hatred was only surpassed by one thing- her curiosity.
“Red Court,” Harry said shortly with a frown. There was a moment of silence at the part of the table, the laughter and chatter from the other tables drifting over in a buzz of noise.
“So, what else have you been up to?” Amanda asked after a few moments, looking as if she wanted to fill in the silence.
“Actually, I've taken up photography,” Harry answered earnestly, trying his best to look convincing.
“Really?” Amanda exclaimed in surprise, looking amused.
“Well, no, not really,” Harry admitted, and then he frowned. “Unless taking nude photos of your Mum in the shower while I'm hiding behind the bathroom curtains counts as photography.”
“You haven't changed a bit,” Amanda said wryly, although she didn't sound surprised at all.
“Don't sound too disappointed,” Harry said flatly, just as a loud gong echoed through the Great Hall. Students began to stand up from their tables, grabbing their books and heading off for their first classes.
Amanda sighed and withdrew a piece of parchment from her Hogwarts robes. She studied it and groaned.
“Well, I have to go,” she said glumly. “I have Potions.”
“Good luck with that,” Harry muttered sarcastically, taking his time to finish the remains of his porridge. As Amanda, Ron, Neville and Hermione left the table with the other Hogwarts students, Meciel let out a pointed cough.
'Beloved…' she started.
“How can you cough?” Harry interrupted. “You have no lungs?”
'You might want to look down at your timetable.'
Harry frowned and glanced at his schedule. He sighed after seeing his first class and rolled his eyes.
“Oh, great,” he muttered sourly. “Potions.”
'Aren't you lucky,' Meciel murmured. 'Remember; try to keep your temper at bay. I don't particularly want you to die.'
“Oh, I'm going to have fun here,” Harry mumbled sarcastically under his breath.
“Well, well, well,” Snape drawled slowly, his dark eyes centred on one figure sitting in his dark, damp potions classroom. “The prodigal son returns. Do not expect any leeway due to your absence, Potter. You have been enrolled in the Fifth Year Potions course and you will be expected to perform to the necessary standards.”
'Prodigal son…oh, he's funny,' Harry thought sarcastically as he glared at the pale skinned man. From what he could remember, Snape hadn't changed a single bit. He still had sallow skin, he still had a crooked nose and he still wore a perpetual scowl on his face- probably set there for life because of the oily substance that coated his hair.
'I do not believe he is aware of your true state, beloved,' Meciel murmured.
Harry must have made an expression of distaste because a wicked sneer grew on Snape's face and obsidian eyes glittered with satisfaction.
“That will be five points from Gryffindor,” he said silkily. “Do not make those faces in my classroom again, Potter.”
Harry's eyes flared with dark power and he had to bite hit tongue as a retort died on his lips. Snape's smile dimmed and his cheeks paled after seeing a flash of fire in Harry's eyes, most likely remembering the last time Harry's eyes had looked like that. Although Snape towered over Harry, the Professor refused to meet the Denarian's eyes. The class watched the interaction as Snape fell silent baited breath- it appeared as if Snape wasn't the only one who remembered the incident last year- but Snape's recovery was smoothed and practised, and Harry almost thought he had imagined it.
“That will be another five points from Gryffindor,” Snape said softly. “Now remove that defiant smirk from your face. I will not tolerate the same type of behaviour I received from you last year. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes,” Harry answered coldly, but forcing as much politeness as he could into his voice.
“Yes, Professor,” Snape said with an amused smirk and Harry twitched, working his jaw around something and glaring at the greasy patch of hair on Snape's head as if he wanted it to explode into a burst of flames,
“Yes, Professor,” Harry added icily, his eyes glinting with anger. However, a sudden chill blasted his mind and it was as if his head had been dunked in icy-cold water. His anger evaporated and he shivered with a pained expression on his face.
'Was that necessary?' Harry murmured angrily.
'Be careful, beloved,' was all Meciel said.
“That's another five points for your disrespectful tone,” Snape added, and he looked like he was enjoying himself. There were several sniggers from the other side of the classroom and Harry's eyes flickered over them, noting that they were all Slytherins. “You have to speak to me in a respectful manner, Potter. I am your Professor and you will treat me as such.”
A thousand different retorts came to his mind but mindful of Meciel's warning, Harry clamped down on his tongue, despite the irritation and anger brewing in his veins. His eyes glittered furiously but Meciel's 'dunked' him in icy-cold water once more, her voice stern and commanding.
'You need to calm down,' she ordered. 'You cannot afford to attract the attention of this 'Umbridge' and give her any reason to laud for your expulsion!'
'Yeah, yeah,' Harry mentally sighed, his stubbornness trying to rear its head. 'But I don't do respectful that well.'
With an almost unnoticeable growl, directed at both Snape and Meciel- although Amanda, who was sitting a few seats away, looked quite startled at the noise- Harry closed lowered his gaze to his desk, trying to remove the target of his fury. Snape looked extraordinarily pleased with himself at Harry's apparent submission and turned back to the rest of the class.
“We will be continuing on the forth stage of our potions,” he said softly. Harry glanced around, seeing simmering cauldrons in front of all the other students. “I expect you all to remember that the gillyweed goes in after you stir the potion clockwise- clockwise, Longbottom, not anti-clockwise. Enlighten the class as to why we don't stir it anti-clockwise.”
Neville, who was sitting in between Ron and Hermione, flushed with embarrassment and lowered his gaze.
“Because it explodes, sir,” the timid Gryffindor answered meekly.
“Very good, Longbottom,” Snape said with a sneer. “That will be one point to Gryffindor…for your excellent memory of the last week's lesson.”
Neville flushed amongst the jeers of the silver and green robed students and Harry saw a familiar pale face pointing at Neville and making a not-so-subtle motion of a cauldron exploding in his face. Despite his hatred towards the man, Harry had to suppress a snort at the pudgy boy's humiliation- something that Snape picked up on and he whirled around in a swirl of fluttering robes.
“Is something funny, Potter?” Snape all but snarled and Harry blinked in surprise, trying to smooth over his expression.
“No,” the Denarian said distantly, his tone polite but his eyes distant.
“No, Professor,” Snape reminded coldly and Harry clenched his fists and levelled Snape an icy glare, fire brewing in his eyes. “And I want your mind on the here and now, Potter. If you blow up a cauldron, you can look forward to cleaning the mess up- without magic!”
Harry rolled his eyes but centred himself on the room, much to Snape's pleasure, whose smirk only grew wider and wider by Harry's apparently meekness.
'This guy is really starting to piss me off,' Harry thought exasperatedly. 'Can't I…?'
'No,' Meciel interrupted.
'But…'
'No,' Meciel said again, although he could feel both her sympathy- and her amusement- at his situation.
“Ten points from Gryffindor for your attitude problem, Potter,” Snape growled malicious, a smile of dark amusement stretching his features. “And let's make it another five for that glare. Remove it from your face at once.”
Harry, in a mixture of effort and Meciel's help, smoothed over his face until it was devoid of emotion. Snape blinked at the change but smiled as the Slytherins sniggered again. Harry noticed that Malfoy was particular enjoying the show and hatred flashed through his mind.
“Well, it looks like I was wrong,” Snape said coldly, looking amused as he gazed at Harry. “Perhaps it is not so hard to beat something into that swelled-up head of yours after all. Actually, it's really quite pathetic at how you are so easily cowed…”
'Pathetic?' Harry thought dangerously.
'Beloved!' Meciel warned quickly.
“I was lying before, you know,” Harry said loudly and the class was silent as Snape paused, scowling at Harry with narrowed eyes. Before he could say anything, Harry plunged on with an arrogant sneer on his face. “I just loved the way you bullied Longbottom over there- and what a name! I bet you've had a lot of fun with that as well.”
'Stop it!' Meciel hissed, but Harry had only just started.
“Seriously, Professor Snape, the whole 'One point for memory' was just great,” he continued earnestly. “Not only was it insulting, but you did it with subtlety. I can never do that because I usually blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. Like, if I wanted to insult Manfolk or Milfoy over there, I'd say “you're a complete fucking retard who has sex with pigs.” Then, I'd say “I don't like you and I hope you get cancer,” and I'd probably finish it off with “you're adopted and nobody loves you,” just to get the point across.”
“Do you think you're funny, Potter?” Snape hissed. He looked both undeniably furious and immensely pleased with himself as he rounded into Harry.
“No, I think I'm hysterical,” Harry snorted and dismissed Snape's comment with a wave of his hand- something that made the Professor let out a audible hiss of anger. “But after all, Professor Snape, I am a hero, and heroes always have a great sense of humour. Wouldn't you agree, Professor?”
Snape's face was losing its colour and Harry noticed a flash of long-buried hatred rising in the Potions Professor's eyes. A part of him was puzzled at that- was Snape still nursing a sore ego over last year- but the rest of him was watching the reaction with an arrogant smirk on his face, almost daring Snape to respond.
“Hero, Potter?” Snape said coldly. “You think you're a hero?”
“Didn't we go through this last year…Severus, was it?” Harry said, almost kindly. “I don't think I'm a hero. I know I'm a hero. I have duelled Voldemort twice now, well, three times including the thing when I was a baby, and I've come out pretty well each time.”
“Potter…”
“Look, how about I write down some tips for you?” Harry said patronisingly, shaking his head with a good natured sigh. “Don't worry, Professor, I'm sure we can make a proper wizard out of you yet.”
'You are an idiot!' Meciel sighed.
'Ah, even I could it was happening no matter what I did,' Harry thought dismissively. 'Still, if you're not happy…'
Suddenly, just as Snape opened his mouth with a furious scowl on his face, a pile of slimy, green stuff shot up from one of the Slytherin's desks and shot into his open mouth. The Slytherins gasped and some of the Gryffindors giggled as Snape gagged, desperately waving his wand and jabbing it at his throat. There was a loud squelching noise and suddenly a green slimy blur shot out of Snape's mouth with great force, striking the roof with a loud splat and clinging to the dusty rafters.
Large strings of saliva and spittle dribbled down Snape's mouth, some still connected to the slimy pile of goo stuck to the roof, and his sallow face had gone the colour of sour milk, his hands shaking with rage. His yellow, uneven teeth were bared in a furious glare and his eyes were flashing murderously. There was silence in the classroom, complete and utter silence
“Hey, don't look at me,” Harry protested when Snape's eyes came on him.
Snape was quivering- actually quivering- with rage, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly. His eyes were literally bulging in his sockets and thick purple veins were emerging from the sallow surface of his skin. All in all, Harry thought the man was about to have an aneurism.
It was hysterical.
“That's….that's…” Snape started, his voice low, cold, dangerous. “Fifty…One hundred and fifty…points from Gryffindor…Potter, how dare you….”
“Eh, that's cool,” Harry said dismissively, although the other Gryffindors in the class looked aghast and were glaring at Harry furiously- all except Amanda, who looked as if she didn't know if she wanted to laugh or scold him.
Harry's comment broke Snape out of his stupor.
“Two weeks detention,” Snape roared loudly, his booming in the cavernous dungerouns.
“Hey, I didn't do it,” Harry protested. “I know I say a lot of crap, but seriously, I didn't do it. You know me, usually I'd take the credit for it even if I hadn't thrown a pile of green crap into your mouth.”
“Make that a month!” Snape hissed coldly. “And close your mouth before you get into anymore trouble!”
“I got a good one,” Harry said with a bright smile and although his anger was brewing, there was a certain satisfaction racing through his mind at the sight of Snape raging before him. “How about…no?”
“How about expulsion?” Snape hissed and his eyes gleamed with a deadly light. “Of course, then we'd have to call in those friends of yours to come and pick you up. I'm sure that would be an eventful day for all of us.”
Harry stiffened and hatred flashed in his eyes as he glared at Snape. As if he was suddenly remembering his circumstances, he said nothing but clenched his fingers as his furious gaze bore into Snape's head. Snape stared back, still refusing to meet his eyes, but the hatred between the two was undeniable.
The class, silent spectators in the altercation, was watching Harry and Snape with bated breath. Finally, after a full minute, Harry heaved an angry sigh and abruptly looked away, backing down. Snape looked satisfied- as well as furious- as Harry made a sour face and kept his head down for the rest of the lesson.
'There are times when I can empathise with the Fallen who completely subjugate their hosts! Meciel hissed as Harry strode from the Potions classroom sporting a furious expression, his books tucked under one arm. 'Did you ignore everything I said?'
'Come on,' Harry protested angrily. 'He baited me!'
'So I noticed,' Meciel said dryly, although some of her anger did drain away after that. 'Still, beloved, you need to start controlling your temper a little better. There will be people who will try to get a rise out of you and there will be times- such as these- when you must refrain from acting out in anger.'
'All I did was say a few things,' Harry mentally grumbled as he left the dungeons. The scowl on his face was enough to deter any potential conversationalist as he stalked past students and classrooms. 'What the hell was Snape playing at? You think Dumbledore could have at least told them to leave me alone.'
'I have the feeling that the man has a grudge against you,' Meciel mused thoughtfully. 'Something that goes past the one year you have known him.'
'You don't say?' Harry thought sarcastically as he rounded a corner.
'Now hurry, you have Defence against the Dark Arts,' Meciel said and paused. 'If you feel there is a time when you cannot keep yourself silent, tell me and I will take over.'
'I can keep myself silent,' Harry thought grouchily as he glanced down at his timetable, looking for the classroom he was supposed to head towards.
'You better,' Meciel said forebodingly and Harry blinked as a certain section of the timetable shimmered under his eyes. 'It says here that the Professor is named 'Umbridge'. Do try to make a good impression.'
“That wasn't the best thing to do,” was the first thing Amanda said when she caught up to Harry. Harry turned his incredulous gaze at the long-maned blonde beside him and groaned in exasperation.
“What, you're going to give me a lecture too?” He said sourly. “And I didn't do anything- except to insult him, and really, the son-of-a-bitch deserved it. 'Pathetic' my arse…I'll show him pathetic when I use his face as a mop!”
“Snape hates Gryffindors, and he probably hasn't forgotten what you did to him last year,” Amanda continued exasperatedly. “We've just lost over one-hundred and fifty points.”
“Yeah, tell me something I hadn't already figured out,” Harry muttered sourly as the two Gryffindors both turned a corner.
“We've got Umbridge next and she's a complete bitch,” Amanda said flatly and Harry blinked.
“Whoa,” he said, staring at Amanda strangely. “That was….new.”
“Seriously, she is,” Amanda complained, looking annoyed. “All she does is to tell us to read out of the book. We'll never pass our OWLs like that.”
“Wait, no spell-work?” Harry interrupted and Amanda nodded grimly. Harry made a face and rolled his eyes. “Great,” he said brightly. “There goes my favourite class in this dump.”
Harry and Amanda strode to the Defence against the Dark Arts classroom in the closest thing to a comfortable silence Harry had achieved ever since the duel with Voldemort a couple of days ago. Amanda had a soft smile on her face while Harry just looked grouchy.
As Harry and Amanda entered the classroom, Amanda whipped her head around and gave Hermione and Ron a bright smile. Much to the annoyance of Harry, her hair- longer than he recalled, flew into his mouth and he spat it out. Amanda made a face and cleaned Harry's spittle off with a wave of her wand, while Harry made loud gagging noises. Suddenly, he stopped and eyed Amanda with a lecherous grin.
“Is that…mango?” He asked with a small devious smile as he took a seat. “Do you use mango-scented shampoo?”
“What's wrong with that?” Amanda asked defensively, although her cheeks were heating up as she sat down next to Harry, and she refused to look at him in the eye.
“Nothing's wrong with that,” Harry said with a little smile. He looked away and paused as Amanda gaze at him heatedly. “Except for the fact that you're blushing, which means you think something's wrong with it.”
“I don't think anything's wrong with it,” Amanda said with a scowl, her cheeks red, and quickly glancing around the classroom. “It's perfectly normal.”
“Then why blush?” Harry asked with a cocky grin. Amanda's response was interrupted as the door to the classroom opened and in walked Professor Umbridge and Harry's first thought was 'what the hell was with all the pink?'
Professor Umbridge was a short, stout woman with short, curly, mousy-brown hair, which had been pinned back with a bright pink Alice band that was covered with pink flowers. She wore a pink fluffy cardigan under her robes and wore a simpering smile on her pallid, toad-like face. She was one of the ugliest things Harry had ever seen, and he had summoned demons from the very depths of hell.
“Good morning, class,” Umbridge simpered sweetly, a slack smile on her face. Her eyes, however, remained beady and cold.
Much to Harry's astonishment, the class responded.
“Good morning, Professor Umbridge,” They chorused loudly. Harry had remained silent but he couldn't help himself and let out a soft snort. It was the most ridiculous thing he had heard all day.
“Excuse me….ah, Mr Potter,” Umbridge said slowly, and her eyes did not match the sugary smile that the witch wore on her face. “Is something the matter?”
'You want to see me restrain myself?' Harry said with a mental grin.
'I'm watching,' Meciel said doubtfully.
Harry allowed a slack smile of his own to cross his face and suddenly his expression was just as pleasant- and contrived- as Umbridge's, who stared back at him with a faint glint of surprise in her eyes.
“Nothing's wrong, Professor,” Harry responded, just as sweetly, and the class stared at him in bafflement. “My throat's a little hoarse, we just had potions, you see, and the fumes were just horrible today.”
“Oh, yes, I've heard all about your potions,” Umbridge said and made a disappointed tsking noise, shaking her head. “I've arranged it so that you'll be serving those detentions with me, Mr Potter. Perhaps this will give us the chance to have a nice, little chat.”
“Oh, but Professor Snape assigned them to me and I wouldn't want to impose on your valuable time,” Harry replied earnestly, his eyes wide with exaggerated innocence and selflessness. “I'm sure you have much better things than look after a naughty child.”
“Mr Potter, I am the Professor here,” Umbridge said sweetly, but an undercurrent of steel had appeared in her voice and her eyes flickered with irritation. “And students should not talk back to their esteemed Professors.”
“Oh, I'm terribly sorry, Professor Umbridge,” Harry said sincerely and straightened his back. He folded his hands on his desk and gave Umbridge nothing short of what appeared to be his full attention, matching her expression with a winning smile.
“I accept your apology, Mr Potter,” Umbridge said after a moments pause, and she smiled sweetly and turned back to the rest of the class. “Now children, put your wands away and take out your textbook. We're going to be reading through Chapter Nine today.”
Harry noticed that nobody had even placed their wands on their desks and that the textbooks were already open on everybody's table. Ignoring the lingering stares he was receiving from some people, Harry promptly opened up his own textbook and began to read.
'That was a nice performance,' Meciel said in amusement. Harry could feel her literally memorising entire pages of the textbook as he turned the page every couple of seconds, not even paying attention to the words. 'A bit sugary for my tastes, I'll admit, but still wonderfully performed'
'I feel like my sugary sweetness is about to burst out of my arse,' Harry mentally grumbled, but his face remained the same, deeply attentive as he 'read' the book below him.
Meciel paused and Harry felt her looking through his senses, taking in Umbridge and assessing the other women carefully. After a while, she murmured 'She's dangerous, beloved,' into his ear, and Harry had to stop an incredulous snort from escaping his mouth.
'I could squash her in an instant,' He thought viciously. 'In fact, I know exactly how I would do it too…'
'She's dangerous because she believes she is in the right,' Meciel said and there was a dark tone in her voice. 'And people who believe they are doing the right thing are the most dangerous of all, no matter what side they are on. Remember that.'
“Harry!” Somebody hissed from next to him and Harry looked up to see Amanda eying him with nothing short of outrage. “Are you sucking up to her?”
“I was being sarcastic, you dolt!” Harry hissed back, his eyes still on the textbook. There was a sudden noise from the front of the room and Harry looked up to see Umbridge staring right at him, satisfaction on her face.
“Is there a problem, Mr Potter?” Umbridge called out sweetly. Harry kept his head down and rolled his eyes, but adopted his earnest and humble persona and glanced up with a puzzled and polite smile.
“No, Professor,” he said sincerely with a sweet smile. “I have finished reading chapter nine though.”
“I find that very hard to believe,” Umbridge said a tap sharply. She stood up and wlaked across the room towards Harry. Harry glanced up at her, his expression not changing an instant as she bent over his desk and regarded his book. “You're not telling lies, are you Mr Potter? I detest naughty children who tell lies.”
“No, Professor,” Harry said and he sounded scandalised as his eyes widened with apparent horror at the mere suggestion. He gestured to his head and put a solemn expression on his face. “I have a photographic memory, so everything I read sticks. It's quite easy for me to go through a book very quickly.
“I see,” Umbridge said sweetly and Harry got the impression that she didn't believe him. Her cold, beady eyes regarded him carefully. “What did you think of Slinkhard's theory of the five most common defensive situations a wizard might find himself in?”
“Oh, they were fascinating,” Harry said quickly, nodding enthusiastically. His eyes went blank for an instant as an image of the relevant page sprung to his mind. After a few seconds, while Umbridge waited impatiently, Harry continued “I think that he made some good points about disapparating if the situation looks dangerous. There are some parts where I think he could have gone into with a little more detail…”
“No, no, no,” Umbridge interrupted sweetly, shaking her head. Her eyes glinted as she continued. “It is not up to children to question a Ministry-Licensed Educator. I'm afraid I'm going to have to take five points from Gryffindor for your impetuousness, Mr Potter.”
“Oh, I understand Professor,” Harry said sweetly, but his eyes were glinting with sudden anger and the words were out of his mouth before he knew it. “We should never let a little thing like the truth get in the way of Ministry edict. It would be bad for business, wouldn't it?
“Excuse me?” Umbridge said, her smile vanishing as her eyes narrowing. “The Ministry of Magic knows truth from lie, Mr Potter, no matter what…strange rumours you may have heard.” Her warning given, her smile suddenly switched back on. “Or did you mean something else, child?”
'Oh, so close,' Meciel said, partly in amusement.
'It's not over yet,' Harry thought.
“What I meant was that one wizard's truth is another wizard's lie,” Harry said quickly. He planted a sincere smile on his face when Umbridge's looked uncertain. “The Ministry needs to determine what the truth is otherwise, well, it would be madness. Very responsible of them, don't you agree?”
'And that's a save!' Harry crowed victoriously and felt Meciel laugh. 'I'd like to thank the academy for this award, and my manager, Meciel, for all her help and myself, for just being that awesome…'
“Quite,” Umbridge said slowly. With one last sickeningly sweet smile, she turned on her heal and strode back to her desk. The moment she had taken her eyes off Harry, his face had almost instantly twisted up into a look of revulsion and he ducked his gaze back to his book.
“I'm going enjoy killing this fuck-wit,” Harry mumbled under his breath, a cold smile twisting his lips. Next to him, Amanda started and stared at him with wide grey eyes, while Umbridge suddenly spun around, looking annoyed.
“Did you just speak again, Mr Potter?”
“I was merely talking to myself, Professor,” Harry responded, his face wearing an innocent little smile as he looked up. He gestured to his book. “I'm going to enjoy reading ahead and with any luck, be done with it.”
Umbridge gave him as sweet smile that showed that she didn't believe him for one bit. Nonetheless, she made no more comments and turned away as Harry buried his head into the book, irritation and the cold desire to take somebody's life flittered through his veins.
'Ooh, we so have to kill her,' he thought. Hellfire flashed in his mind as a dozen different scenarios crossed his mind. 'We should make it painful, too. She's got one of those voices that just screech in your ears.'
'She is an odd woman,' Meciel agreed and Harry could feel her considering the options. 'You handled her well. I do not think lashing out at her would have been a good idea, although you were quite obviously being insincere.'
'You don't think she bought it?' Harry questioned.
'Hardly,' Meciel said dryly. 'You have much to learn, beloved, of the art of subtlety.'
'I don't like subtlety,' Harry muttered in his mind, absently flicking the page again. 'It gets in the way of me blowing stuff up. Hell, I don't like her either. Do me a favour and put 'subtlety' and 'Umbridge' on the list.'
'List?'
'Yeah,' Harry thought smugly. 'I'm going to make a list of everybody in need of a good arse-kicking by the end of the year. I've got Snape, Hermione and maybe Fawkes on it so far.'
'I'll just get started on it then, shall I?' Meciel remarked but Harry felt her amusement spreading through him like a warm glow.
He looked up to check on Umbridge and after seeing sitting behind her desk, made to lower his head. However, Amanda caught his eyes from next to him and he cocked his head, staring at her strangely. She was eying him with a scowl on her face, probably because of his attitude towards Umbridge.
'Meciel,' Harry murmured into his mind as he stared at the blonde-haired girl, who had rolled her eyes and turned back to her book.
'Yes, beloved?'
'Add the brat.'
'With pleasure.'