kbinnz - Harry's New Home

Harry managed to hold his tongue, but he could see that her deadly venom was slowly beginning to affect his classmates. No one actually came out and accused him of using his special status to get out of trouble, but he noticed that there were a lot more sidelong looks at his scar than there had been before. Even Ron, to his annoyance, seemed to think that Harry was just being modest, and he kept pestering Harry to tell him how he had managed the trick. The twins also appeared to believe it had been a prank, and their grinning at him and referring to him as "our apprentice" just convinced more of the student body that maybe Umbridge was right.

Harry sighed. He didn't understand why the other students acted jealous. Of him? What did they have to be jealous about? He was an orphan тАУ although he did now have a great da тАУ and Voldesnort and his band of Death Eaters wanted him dead. Was that something to envy? And since the term began, he'd been alternately getting into trouble with his professors for things he didn't do, like losing his homework or stealing notes, and being criticized by his peers for getting away with stuff and being given special treatment. It was all so mixed up!

At least his friends were sticking by him, though the others' disapproving looks and whispers were beginning to grate on his nerves, and Umbridge's constant, petty harassment didn't help. All told, it created a great deal of strain on the boy, and when the mysterious enemy struck again, it proved too much for him.

Dinner time at Hogwarts, as at most schools, was eagerly anticipated by the ravenous students, and there was often an initial rush into the room once the doors opened for mealtime. That evening, the first students into the room (including тАУ naturally тАУ Ron) halted in sheer amazement at the empty space in front of them.

"Where're all the tables an' chairs?" yelped Ron.

The students, now joined by several equally startled faculty, stared around them as if expecting the furniture to materialize in front of them.

"Look!" Finally someone's gaze strayed upwards, and soon a forest of hands pointing at the ceiling directed everyone else's attention there.

Stuck to the ceiling, as if gravity had suddenly reversed itself, were the missing tables and chairs, assembled in a particular pattern.

That was the point at which Harry, fresh from a dueling lesson with Flitwick, arrived on the scene. He was startled when the Weasley twins, joined by several others, greeted his entrance with loud applause, and equally bewildered at the looks of impatience or disgust directed at him by other students.

"Here's the little egomaniac," one girl from Ravenclaw commented loudly to her friends. "You'd think he'd eventually get tired of drawing attention to himself."

"I guess it's easy to pull off pranks if you know you won't get punished for them," a Hufflepuff said enviously. "Must be nice to be The Boy Who Lived!"

"Merlin, Harry тАУ are you trying to lose us points? Umbridge is right about you," an upper year Gryffindor snapped. "You don't care about anyone but yourself."

Harry was bewildered by the comments, until he too happened to look up. There on the ceiling, the missing furniture spelled out "HARRY P" with the remaining tables and chairs organized around it in a frame. His mouth dropped open.

"Harry, that's pretty funny," Neville admitted. "But I still think some of the professors might get upset."

"Potter, Potter, Potter! Don't you even know enough never to sign your own name to a prank?" Draco asked, bemoaning such Gryffindor foolishness. "You should have spelled 'RON W IS KING'!"

"Oi! I heard that!" Ron said indignantly. "I think he should have put 'DRACO IS A GIT'!"

"I didn't do it!" Harry protested, staring wildly from one to the next. "It wasn't me!"

The boys just laughed. "Sure, Harry! Sure!"

Hermione looked at him doubtfully, but at least she didn't immediately dismiss his words. "Harry, if you didn't, then who did? And why put your name up there?"

"I don't know, 'Mione," Harry protested, "but it wasn't me!"

"Little show off!" Another Ravenclaw sniffed, and several students, including some other Gryffindors, noisily agreed.

"I DIDN'T DO IT!" Harry yelled at them, finally losing his temper. "YOU BLOODY тАУ"

"That will be quite enough, Mr Potter!" Professor McGonagall appeared at his side and took him by the collar. "I suggest you refrain from getting yourself in more trouble than you already are."

"But тАУ" Harry's protests were interrupted by the Headmaster's arrival. "My, my. It appears that someone has chosen to redecorate," he said, his eyes twinkling. "While the new arrangement is quite original, it does pose a few logistical problems, so I think we had best return things to their usual places." He waved his wand, and the students watched expectantly, but nothing happened.

Dumbledore exchanged a startled look with McGonagall, then wove a more complicated pattern with his wand. There was a moment when it looked as if the furniture would remain recalcitrant, but an extra, commanding gesture from the headmaster sent the tables and chairs gently drifting earthward.

McGonagall gave Harry a piercing look, then said, "Come with me, Mr Potter." As her hand remained on his collar, Harry really had no choice in the matter, but the smirks and jeering looks that were directed to him on his way out made his ears burn and his blood boil.

His Head of House escorted him firmly to her office, closed the door behind them, pointed to a chair in front of her desk, and said, "Now then тАУ" and those two little, innocent words destroyed what little self-control he still possessed.

Days of remaining silent despite Umbridge's sly digs, of ignoring the gibes of other students, of allowing the rumor of his cheating to circulate unchallenged finally boiled over, and all his anger and frustration about the injustice of it all exploded. He was confident that he was about to be тАУ again тАУ scolded and punished for something he hadn't done, just like he had been at his old school whenever Dudley set him up or blamed him for mischief he himself had done. Just like then, Harry knew he had no way of proving his innocence, but while in the past, he could do nothing but keep his mouth shut and suffer through the punishment for fear of his relatives, this time his newly unleashed temper rebelled. If he were going to be punished anyway, he might as well do something to earn it!

"IT'S NOT FAIR!" he screamed, startling McGonagall. "I ALWAYS GET BLAMED FOR SHITE THAT I HAVEN'T DONE! IT'S NOT FAIR! WHY IS IT ALWAYS ME? I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING!"

"Mr Pot-" McGonagall attempted to interrupt, but Harry was in no mood to listen.

"JUST SHUT IT! I HATE THIS! NO ONE EVER BELIEVES ME! UMBITCH KEEPS CALLING ME NAMES AND MAKING STUFF UP AND NO ONE SAYS THAT SHE'S FULL OF SHITE, BUT THE SECOND I TRY TO SAY THAT I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING, I'M JUST TOLD TO BLOODY WELL BELT UP. WELL, YOU JUST BELT UP FOR A CHANGE!"

McGonagall blinked. In all her years in education, she had never been told to "belt up". She forced down a wholly inappropriate grin. Harry did look rather cute when he foamed and shouted like this. Sort of a cross between James at his most impossible and a ranting Severus. Oh, and look, now he was waving his arms around. Sirius used to do that all the time. McGonagall felt quite nostalgic and misty-eyed watching the latest generation of Potters scream and gesticulate.

It took another few minutes for Harry's tantrum to finally run its course, but when it did, and he slowly sputtered to a halt, exhausted and hoarse, he abruptly realized what he had been saying and to whom. Oh, Professor McGonagall was going to kill him.

Feeling rather sheepish, he hesitantly raised his eyes to meet hers, and instantly felt even more childish. While he had ranted on, she had seated herself comfortably at her desk, summoned a teapot, and was simply sitting there, waiting for him to finish. "Are you done?" she asked calmly, raising an eyebrow.