Chapter 1 - Summer Slacking
Well Lazy!Harry is back, but not making any effort, and so don't expect this to go much more than one chapter...
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe and all related materials are the property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury and Warner Brothers. I am in no way affiliated with JKR, Bloomsbury or Warner Brothers, and use their materials without their permission or knowledge.
Harry Potter was a highly unusual boy in a few significant ways.
The most obvious thing was that he wanted to be lazy- not just that he was lazy, which in itself isn't really that unusual for a teenage boy, but Harry actively wanted to be lazy, and he put an almost ridiculous amount of effort into it.
He was too lazy to go as far as saying that he hated do anything twice (and was not very happy about doing most things once in the first place), but he definitely did not enjoy doing the same things day in and day out, unless it was sleeping or slacking off. This often meant he spent an extraordinary amount of time and effort finding ways to not do something, and then even more effort figuring out how to avoid ever doing it again.
His motivation to excel at being lazy was due to years of been told time and again that he was a lazy, good-for-nothing lay-about by his closest family, his Aunty and Uncle who were too dim to realise the sort of activity (or lack of activity), they were encouraging.
This criticism happened despite any effort he made, so Harry rather sensibly decided that he would strive to be what he was called, and learned to thoroughly enjoy doing the very nothing the adults in his life constantly accused him of.
It was pretty much a win-win decision, as far as he could see.
Discovering, at the tender age of eleven, that he happened to be a wizard was another unusual thing about Harry, because while there are a lot of lazy teenagers, not many of them are wizards.
As a wizard, doing nothing should have been a lot easier. Wave a wand and make anything he wanted appear. Wave it again to remove anything he didn't want any more – a perfect fit for him. So he started going to a special boarding school for wizards, learning many wonderful ways to use magic to do things for him.
He learned how to make things float, and how to make them move around on their own, and even how to have them follow simple commands, like sweep this room, or butter that piece of bread (with just the right amount of butter, and maybe a dollop of honey, thank you very much).
He could clean small areas with just a flick and swish of his wand, and do many other really nifty things with an almost total lack of effort that 'normal' people, especially lazy teenagers, could only wish for.
Unfortunately, a bunch of hopeless bureaucrats suffered a particularly unfortunate bout of sustained idiocy and made, in Harry's opinion, the totally unreasonable decision that children should not be allowed to cast spells outside of school.
So, at the end of each year, Harry returned to his summer residence, the home of his hateful Aunt Petunia and spiteful Uncle Vernon, able to perform absolutely astounding feats of magic, but prohibited from casting even the simplest cleaning spell.
It was frustrating enough to drive a normal person insane, but Harry considered going mad a whole lot more effort than it was worth. He knew from prior personal experience at his old primary school that putting underpants on his head and sticking pencils up his nose while saying "Wibble" was only worth half a day off and a measly two-hour session with a disinterested counsellor (Harry's miserly guardians refused to pay for the pills that might have made it all worthwhile).
In the Wizarding world, Harry was pretty certain that kind of behaviour would not even be considered eccentric as, in his oppion, most wizards he had encountered so far were decidedly strange, if not completely off their tree.
Luckily, he discovered that like most rules, the laws had many loopholes, and using magical objects while away from school was allowed.
So before leaving the train after his second year finished, Harry collected as many magical devices and objects as he could manage to pack into his magically expanded pockets (and trunk, and book bag, and various other containers, vessels and jars, even sticking some under his hat) with the express intention of having access to some of the benefits of magic without actually casting any spells.
He had magical brushes and brooms for the mundane housework his spiteful Aunty always made him do while she took her precious (and unbearably obese) son, Dudley, out for 'excursions'.
He had enchanted hedge cutters, shovels, hand trowels, and other implements for the inevitable gardening chores his twit of an Uncle insisted were required for Harry to 'pay his way', when in fact just not murdering them all in their sleep should have been sufficient 'payment'.
He even had a larder full of house-elf prepared, ready-to-eat food stashed into an extra special section of his trunk that would stay fresh (and exactly the right temperature) so that he did not have to bother trying to get a decent meal from his relatives.
All in all, Harry was all set for a summer of dozing under the tree in the back yard and doing absolutely nothing constructive while still appearing to be working his fingers to the bone.
He had specific days allocated to watching TV when the house was due to be empty and an enchanted paintbrush took care of repainting the shed. He had a schedule for using dictating quills to write personalised form letters to annoying girls from school that would bother him too much if he just ignored them. Then there were days where he could instantly provide the full meals that his 'family' expected him to slave over, simply by pulling them, readymade, out of his trunk.
He didn't even feel the need to invent anything new for the coming school year, since he figured he had pretty much mastered everything he needed to keep his school workload under control, and there was no sense in putting even more effort into it.
Unfortunately, that all changed in a moment, and his well-planned summer fell apart like a, well, a really good plan that would no longer work because somebody muffed it up.
"Marge? Uncle Vernon's sister, Marge?" asked Harry, so dumbfounded by news of the impending visit that he felt compelled to speak in more than the monosyllables he had recently taken to using when communicating with the Dursleys (because they really were not worth the effort of full sentences or complex words).
"Yes," snapped Aunt Petunia.
"And I suppose she'll be bringing that vicious little mutant rat? The one that keeps trying to bite my leg off and rub its belly on everything?" asked Harry, just to be sure the situation was really as bad as he thought it was.
Not that it would have been much better even if Marge's dog had suffered a terminal accident involving a lorry, a chainsaw, or something equally as severe. Even Aunt Petunia turned up her nose in disgust at the mention of Ripper and his habits.
"Yes," she snapped irritably, beginning the process of working herself up into a rant on how Harry was to behave while the visitor was in the house.
"Right, that's it then," said Harry, before Petunia's tirade could get started. "I'm out."
Ten minutes later, Harry was sitting on the Magical Knight Bus heading to London and Diagon alley.
The majority of his worldly possessions were on the seat next to him, packed away in his trunk (his real trunk, not the mostly empty one Vernon had locked under the stairs to 'prevent Harry doing anything freaky'), and Hedwig, the plump owl, was snoozing in her cage on his other side - He had tried to send her on ahead but she refused to fly anywhere when there was a perfectly good bus all ready to take them there anyway.
Sure, it meant all his plans for the holidays were ruined, but there was simply no way he was subjecting himself to the presence of that woman and her beast.
While the thought of staying alone in the Leaky Cauldron until school started was frankly a bit terrifying, it was still a great deal more attractive than the alternative of either being attacked by a rabid mutt, or ending up in jail for accidental magic turning said mutt and its owner into cabbages (or something else just as disgusting).
Of course, a more 'normal' kid his age would be much more worried, and possibly even a bit panicked at running out on their own, but Harry decided long ago that unnecessarily raising his blood pressure by envisioning all manner of worst case scenarios was a total waste of effort and he was better off just going with it until the 'wheels came off'.
And when the wheels did come off, as they almost always did, he planned on trying to hitch a lift to somewhere else.
Arriving at the Leaky Cauldron with only a minor concussion from the bus trip, Harry had no problem getting a very affordable room until he was due to return to school. Tom even carried Harry's trunk up for him and showed him how to work the various magical facilities, which included an awesome whirlpool bath-thing big enough to drown a small horse in, and some rather silly 'mood' lighting options that Harry really didn't see a need for.
Plonking himself down onto the bed as soon as Tom left, Harry touched his wand twice to the headboard and smiled as the bed started vibrating soothingly - which Harry also found a bit weird for a bed to do, but strangely comforting.
For a moment he was puzzled by the image of a boy laying on the ceiling, and then even more confused when he realised it was actually a mirror directly over the bed.
Why would anybody need a mirror on the roof above their bed?
"Well," he thought. "I guess I can use it to put my tie on without getting out of bed."
And with that happy idea, he drifted off into a blissful sleep.
#
Ripper happily strode the street, his little doggy head held high as he surveyed his domain.
There were only a few other dogs in this neighbourhood, and none of them acted remotely as aggressive, so his tiny mind felt it had established his dominance over the locals. It helped immensely that every other dog he encountered was either on a leash or locked behind fences and gates.
This was Ripper's third night of freedom after digging under the fence of the yard where his owner was staying. He didn't usually escaped so soon into these infrequent visits, but his normal victim was absent this time, and it had only taken one day to completely destroy the garden, leaving the small minded dog quite bored.
Nearing his destination, his age-affected eyesight spotted another dog in the distance, hiding in some bushes with just its shaggy black face poking through to spy on Ripper's temporary home.
Ripper let out a rumbling growl and rushed towards the interloper, puffing himself up to be as menacing as possible as he started yapping loudly to scare away the other beast.
The shaggy dog lifted its head up, obviously caught by surprise.
Ripper charged in closer, yapping even more furiously as the other dog's messy face rose up, and up, and up. In fact, it did not seem to be stopping.
The barking died in Ripper's throat and he scrambled to a halt, even taking a step backwards as the size of his opponent became apparent.
Padfoot looked down at the now shaking Ripper and gave a very un-dog-like grin.
#
Several weeks later, Harry was surprised to receive birthday cards from his Hogwarts friends. He was surprised mainly because he hadn't noticed that his birthday had arrived.
It was hard enough keeping track of day and night, let alone what day of the week it was. The month was really just too much of a hassle to bother with.
The opportunity to sleep, eat, and do absolutely nothing whenever and wherever he wanted was a rare treat that Harry was determined not to ruin by doing silly, unnecessary things, like keeping track of the date.
There were a few occasional days (and nights) spent wandering around the alley, but shopping was not his thing. Nor was studying, despite the fact he had an absolute trunk load of homework to make up excuses for not doing, but he had so far managed to avoid anything even slightly work-like, aside from occasionally reading some of the daily newspapers people left on the tables at the Leaky Cauldron.
Well, reading the comics, not the 'real' newspaper stories; those were boring, although the news about a nutter called Sirius Black escaping was mildly interesting. There were certainly enough people talking about it to make Harry take note.
He sent a few pre-written form letters to his friends, in particular Hermione, but since he dictated those letters before he knew he would be spending his holidays in the alley, only a couple were still usable. Besides, he did not want to get into the habit of writing loads of letters, in case it encouraged people to expect more from him.
Buried amongst his birthday presents and cards was also his Hogwarts letter, with its attached list of things he needed to get around to buying before school started, and an extra bit of paper that turned out to be a permission slip for going to the local village on weekends.
It was a bit late to somehow convince his uncle to make his chop on it now, but all was not lost. After all, it wasn't like Harry hadn't needed Vernon's signature for various school related activities before, and getting the real thing was often far too difficult, or just not worth the effort.
Taking a ballpoint pen from one of his pockets, Harry quickly and easily scrawled a decent approximation of Vernon's signature in the appropriate place on the slip. He was tempted to sign it Vermin Dundersly, as he had on several other occasions, but he didn't want to push his luck.
Well, not too far anyway.
Hagrid the grounds keeper's gift of a living book that promptly tried to bite Harry's hand off was a bit of a surprise, but it wasn't the worst or even the strangest mail Harry received.
The strangest was a simple note, just one line, written on a Muggle birthday card that could have been bought from any corner store in London.
"Happy birthday, from your Godfather," the note said.
Since he didn't even know he had a Godfather, it was definitely weird, especially when it was signed with what looked like a paw print. Figuring it would likely be one of those things that sorted itself out without any intervention required on his part, Harry simply accepted the card for what it was and moved on without giving it another thought.
The worst letter was from the Ministry of Magic and contained a small booklet entitled: "Your Body and You – a Guide for new Adolescents."
With a horrifying feeling of dread, and an overwhelming morbid fascination, Harry opened the slim textbook and began to read, his eyes bulging and his face turning various shades of red as he progressed, horrid curiosity dragging his mind into areas he would not normally venture.
"Dear Merlin," he whispered to himself in horror at the information forcing itself into his mind.
#
"Hello, Mr Potter," crackled the ancient looking witch behind the counter of Curiosities and Collectibles. "Here to sell your old things again are we?"
"Yes," said Harry grinning widely, "but only if you give me a better price this time."
"Cheeky bugger you are," she laughed.
After spending a great deal of time with Lockhart the previous year, Harry had re-evaluated his worth in the merchandise crazy world. Hearing how much people were willing to pay for his old books and clothes made Harry realise that, while he was happy with the deal he made previously, he could do a lot better.
Harry liked money. Money meant, amongst other things, being able to pay somebody else to do the stuff he didn't want to. With enough money, he figured he could pay people to do even the most mundane task for him, like walking.
To somebody who knew how to fly a broom, or a magic carpet, walking was definitely over-rated.
"Most of my clothes still fit, so I've only got a couple of sets to sell I'm afraid," he said. "And I'll need to keep most of my books for revision and stuff."
It wasn't exactly a lie, but flooding the market with cheap, elf made socks had taught Harry to keep supply tight.
"Well, for a few galleons I'll swap all your old worn-out things for new ones," suggested the witch.
"Okay, you give me ten galleons and all new gear, item for item then," Harry said. "And I'll even throw in a couple of photos of me and Gilderoy Lockhart I have. Signed by both of us, no less."
Harry knew it wasn't usual for people to walk out of a shop with more money than they went in, and with all new purchases to boot, but the smile on the old sales-witch told him there were no losers in this transaction.
"Cheeky bugger," she repeated with another laugh.
#
"Hey, Nev," said Harry, spying one of his year-mates pacing outside a shop. "What's up, mate?"
"I've lost my book list," whispered Neville nervously as he frantically checked and rechecked his pockets. "Gran's going to kill me."
Harry caught a glimpse of an elderly, very stern looking woman approaching them as Neville's panic grew. She did not look like somebody Harry wanted to cross, and it was far too late to make a run for it as she had very clearly seen Harry talking to Neville.
"Here, take mine," he said quickly thrusting his list into Neville's hand as he put his arm around Neville in what he hoped looked like a friendly, casual manner.
Smiling, he watched Neville's gran close the last few feet between them. There followed an incredibly awkward moment where Neville did his best to formally introduce them, while Harry tried hard to ignore the almost savage corrections and comments elderly Mrs Longbottom made on Neville's earnest efforts.
He finally managed to excuse himself and get away after spotting a tanned Hermione carrying what looked like a small, ugly tiger.
"So Hermy, that's a lovely puss-"
"Don't even think about finishing that comment if you value your life," interrupted Hermione.
"I was just going to comment on how wonderful it is that we can all get to see your puss-" Harry tried again.
"I have been forced by my incredibly lame father to watch 'Are you being Served' at least a thousand times, Harry, and if you insist on using any of those jokes –"
"You mean the ones about Mrs Slowcu-"
"-I'll introduce you to some very nasty hexes I discovered in a very old book Ron brought back from Egypt for me."
"Ron? Bought you a book?" asked Harry incredulously. "A book not about Quidditch?"
"It was very nice thing he did to thank me for all the help I gave him last year," she explained a bit defensively. "Even if it wasn't totally his idea, and even if he didn't write to me often while he was on holidays, at least he made an effort and didn't just send me form letters!"
"Hey, I filled in the blanks!" said Harry.
"You sent Susan the same letter," said Hermione indignantly.
"No I didn't," said Harry. "It was completely different!"
"The only thing different was my name at the top," she snapped. "And an extra line insulting me about the number of subjects I am taking this year."
"See? Completely different!" said Harry, smiling innocently. "Personalised and all."
"You are, without a doubt, one of the most infuriating boys I have ever met," she said.
"And you are already stressing out before you even take a single class," laughed Harry. "Just like I said you would. Now, stop nagging and let me touch your puss-"
"That's it," she screamed dropping the huge fur ball and reaching for her wand, but Harry was already gone, moving much faster than somebody as lazy as he should have been able to.
Laughing, Hermione took off after him, leaving a gobsmacked Neville and his disapproving grandmother behind.
"And you associate with these children?" the older Longbottom asked.
"Not often, but it sure beats putting up with Malfoy," said Neville, distracted and not really thinking about who he was speaking too.
"Indeed," agreed the matron, surprising her grandson.
#
"Potter," drawled Malfoy.
"Hmmmff," mumbled Harry, squinting his eyes and twisting his jaw.
Draco paused for a moment, completely unsure what to do next.
"Is he having a seizure or something?" he finally asked the girls watching Harry.
"He scoffed his ice-cream and has brain freeze," Susan Bones answered, ignoring the rudeness of Draco not bothering to acknowledge her presence before asking his question.
She sedately took another small spoon of her own desert while Harry pounded his fist on his forehead.
"Just how big a bite did he take?" asked Draco, unable to take his eyes off the spectacle Harry was making.
"I don't think he could actually fit any more in his mouth," admitted Hannah as Harry began banging his head on the table, his fist apparently not doing the job.
"Well, when he recovers, tell him father says he shouldn't be too public about catching up with his godfather," said Draco, finally managing to take his eyes away from where Harry was convulsing on the floor to look at the two girls.
"Er, okay."
"Thank you," said Draco, then he turned and walked away.
"Well that was a lot politer than usual," said Susan as Harry dragged himself up off the floor.
"You know you could have just talked to him," suggested Hannah.
"Nah," said Harry, picking up the spoon he had dropped earlier. "Trust me, this way is much easier than trying to pretend I know whatever the hell he is talking about, and it's kind of fun."
Hannah laughed. Susan shook her head and took another dainty spoonful of her desert. She looked up just in time to see Harry shovel another massive lump of ice cream into his mouth, this time for no discernible reason.
"Boys," she sighed as Harry clutched his head between his hands and began to silently scream.
Chapter 2 - Tempting Fate
In one of the last cabins on the train, Hermione finally found Harry.
He was already asleep, as she expected, but what she wasn't expecting was for him to be leaning against a just-as-asleep man, a professor, if she interpreted the writing on the trunk above them correctly.
She was only slightly surprised to find Luna, the strange girl Harry befriended last year, also asleep, and leaning up against Harry, making the three of them look like a human domino set that had fallen over.
"Well, Crookshanks," she said to the huge cat in her arms. "Looks like I've just got you for conversation this trip."
The cat rumbled a deep purr, and then jumped out of her arms to land on the seat next to Luna. He then promptly climbed onto the sleeping blonde girl's lap and settled down, presumably to join the others in their slumber.
"Traitor," Hermione hissed at the cat before taking a book out of her bag and getting comfortable on the opposite seat before uttering a statement she would later come to very much regret.
"Looks like it's going to be a fairly boring trip then."
#
"Potter, is it true? Did you really sleep through a Dementor attack?" asked Justin as they climbed off the train and made their way to the waiting carriages.
"Dementor?" asked Harry, wearily scratching his sleep messed hair (which was no different from his normal messed hair really). "Is that the big trench-coat wearing clown head thing?"
"Clown?"
"Yeah, got its mouth open like those clown heads you drop balls in at the fair. You know, like this," said Harry.
He opened his mouth in a wide 'O' shape and rolled his eyes up as far as he could in a deplorable imitation of both a Dementor and the sideshow game he was trying to demonstrate.
"Great Merlin, Harry, stop that," said Zachariah. "You look like that bloody manikin from last year."
"Sorry," apologised Harry. "Anyway, is that the thing you are talking about?"
"A clown? You are such a Muggle, Potter. It's one of the most dangerous creatures in the world and you call it a clown, but, yeah that's it. Did you really sleep through its attack?"
"Attack? All it did was come in and makes us all a bit cold, then Luna enlarged a cork off her necklace and stuck it into the thing's mouth. Apparently that stopped it for a minute, and then a professor chased it off."
"And you slept through it?"
"Well, sort of. I did wake up, but once all the excitement was over I went back to sleep."
"The man nearly has his soul eaten by a monster and he goes back to sleep! You really are something, Harry," marvelled Zach.
"Thanks, I think," Harry replied.
He wasn't going to tell them he had many years practice dealing with nightmares on his own while locked in a small, dark cupboard, and screaming was hardly the worst thing he had ever dreamt. Not because he was embarrassed by it, but because explaining would just have taken far too long and would undoubtedly lead to other tales he did not want to spend the energy telling or listening to.
"So, Harry, what great inventions have you got planned for us this year?"
"None," said Harry. "Not this year. I'm kind of sitting this one out."
"You're what?" asked Ernie, catching up with his classmates.
"Sitting it out," repeated Harry. "I think I've got everything I need for this year, so there's not much point in making more stuff."
"Oh," said Ernie.
"Yep, I can't think of anything I'll need this year that I don't already have," said Harry. "So I've decided to sit back and enjoy the already picked fruits of my labour. I'm not going to do anything this year, just you watch. Nothing is going to disrupt my year."
For some reason, an unsettling chill run down the back of everybody who heard that pronouncement.
#
"Mr Potter," said Professor Sprout. "I did not receive your list of electives. Which ones are you taking?"
"None," said Harry brightly.
"None? What do you mean, 'none'?" asked his head of house, her voice changing only slightly from the pleasant, happy tone students were mostly used to hearing from her.
"Well, they're electives aren't they? I've elected not to take any of them," explained Harry, still smiling.
Of course, he knew this was not going to work, but he just had to try.
#
"Hermione, can Arithmancy be done using a calculator?"
The girl in question furrowed her brow in deep thought.
"I think there are probably many parts of it that could be," she answered after a moment. "But I don't know if one could handle the equations, not to mention electrical devices have a lot of issues in areas with as much concentrated magic as Hogwarts. Why, are you thinking about taking the class? You should. I am taking it and it will be loads of fun."
"You are taking all the classes aren't you?" asked Harry. "So it doesn't matter what I take, you'll be there."
"Yes, well, but be that as it may, I still think it is a really interesting and worthwhile class."
Harry thought about it. Maybe he could get a mechanical calculator and figure out how to get it to do the maths Arithmancy apparently involved.
Then again, he was taking a year off.
"Nah," he said. "I might have, but I've already got something that will help me with Divination, so that tips the balance."
Hermione frowned, quite used to seeing her friend's offhand comments as alluding to things much 'bigger' than most people's small talk.
"How could you already have made something without knowing anything about the class aside from the descriptions in the course handbook?" she asked, overcoming her fear the answer would add to the brain haemorrhage she was sure Harry was unintentionally giving her.
"I didn't make it, I bought it. In Muggle London, no less. Here look," he said.
Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a black glass sphere that had a smaller white circle painted on it.
"You have got to be kidding me," said Hermione in disbelief.
Harry just smiled and shook the globe, holding it out so that they could both see into the little white circle.
The words 'No Way' floated out of the depths of the liquid filled globe.
Hermione groaned in disgust. Harry smiled.
"Figured I'd take Care of magical creatures, mainly because Hagrid has already got me the book and isn't likely to overload us with work, Muggle Studies, because, well I'm at least half a Muggle really, and it was a tossup between Arithmancy and Divination."
"Why are you taking three electives when you only have to do two?" asked Hermione before her brain caught up and put a stop to more mental damage causing questions.
"Ah, that way I can claim the other two classes are taking up so much time that I am having trouble getting all the work done for whatever one I am in at that moment. If I only take two classes the professors will know that's a lie, but this way, they'll sympathise," explained Harry.
"But you will still have to pass the exams!" insisted Hermione.
"Don't you remember? All you have to do is pass one O.W.L. and you are an adult wizard," said Harry. "By taking an extra class I am improving my chances of finding the easiest one to pass."
Hermione's expression became one of uncertainty and she didn't say anything for a few seconds.
"I really don't know if I should be proud that you are doing more than the minimum, or disgusted at you," she admitted after a few moments.
"Why bother deciding by yourself? Just use the Magic 8-Ball," Harry answered shaking the globe again.
"It's a distinct possibility," read the ball.
#
The first round of classes passed pretty much how Harry had planned them to.
"But Professor McGonagall, how could I possibly concentrate enough to do homework with that insane mass murderer. Sirius Black, on the loose?" asked Harry in his most sincere voice.
"But Professor Flitwick, surely you can understand I was too distraught to do any homework?" he pleaded.
"But I was too terrified to set foot outside!" exclaimed Harry to Professor Sprout. "I couldn't do any of the observations you wanted."
"But I was, er – you know what, forget it, I'm not even going to try," said Harry to Professor Snape. "Just take the points and let's get on with it."
#
"Where the bloody hell is it?" asked Zachariah, while angrily rummaging through his book bag.
Harry thought about asking what he was searching for, but decided against it, since it might end up getting him involved.
People often did that – complain loudly enough to get somebody else to help them. Dudley was a rolling mess of none stop whinging around his parents, who both rushed to do anything they could for their 'baby'. Harry was just waiting for the day they started chewing his food for him.
For Harry though, long ago he found that 'trick' took far too much effort, was particularly ineffective with the Dursleys (not that he wanted his food pre-chewed by Vernon or Petunia, no matter how much easier that would make eating!), and just asking people to help him when he needed it was by far the easiest way, but somebody else was bound to fall for it this time.
"Where's what?" asked Ernie, causing Harry to smile secretly to himself as his internal prediction was confirmed and Ernie fell for it.
"That stupid book we need for Creatures," answered Zachariah. "I'm, sure I put it in here, but I can't find it now. Why the hell did I enlarge this bag so much?"
Harry declined to comment, knowing Zachariah, was trying to attach some of the blame for losing his book to Harry, since he was the one that started the bag-expansion trend last year.
"It probably ran away," said Ernie. "I found mine hiding under the bed."
"Nah, I petrified it after it took a piece out of my History of magic book," said Zachariah, still rummaging around inside the obviously massive satchel. "It's hiding in here somewhere, I just know it. I mean it's not like somebody would have taken the stupid bloody thing."
#
Deep in the kitchens of Hogwarts, the excitement was rising to new heights as the cages opened and the combatants raced into the ring. The animated books immediately began viciously tearing into each other, spurring the cheers of the crowd into a near-frenzy and sending an artificial snowstorm of shredded paper into the air.
"This being even better than Merefolk-fishing!" exclaimed one young elf.
#
"Ah, here it is," Zac finally announced, pulling out the many-toothed volume.
"Merlin, Zac. What have you been doing to it? It looks like a kneazle has been chewing on it!" said Ernie.
"What the hell?" asked Zachariah, eyeing the beaten and torn book warily.
Harry continued to say nothing, but thought about ordering more of the dog collar and muzzle combinations he had secured his own copy of the Monster book of Monsters with before simply asking Hagrid how to control them.
Nah, they'd figure it out eventually, and there was still a fair bit of fun to be had watching them struggle until then.
"Oh, that's not good," interrupted the voice of a worried looking Ravenclaw as they sighted the cabin where Hagrid was waiting out front for them.
Harry was fairly certain the student had a name, but so far they had not interacted enough to warrant recalling it.
"What?" asked Hannah.
"Hagrid's got a wooden club. If he needs a club to control whatever it is he is going to show us, it has got to be stupidly dangerous."
There was worried murmur of agreement from the other students as they stopped their approach towards Hagrid, the cricket bat sized club in his massive hands looking like a twig.
"You Ravenclaws over think things," said Harry with a snort of disgust. "Don't go borrowing trouble by dreaming up all the way things can go bad. Just wait see before getting yourself worked up into a frenzy of worry."
"You can talk," said Susan. "You always plan for the worst."
"Plan, yeah, but I don't go getting all fussed about it," said Harry. "I mean, come on - It's Hagrid. He hardly needs a club to beat the living magic out of something now, does he? And it's not like he would ever do any such thing anyway, is it?"
There was a general rumble of muted agreement; Hagrid's inner gentle nature was as famous as his love of monstrous beasts.
"Come on," encouraged Harry. "You don't want to miss a lesson now, do you?"
Still looking apprehensive, the group moved on, not noticing Harry dropping towards the back.
After all, a four-by-two was not much more than a rolled up newspaper to the huge man, and if he did have a pet that needed a bit of 'gentle' encouragement, Harry did not want to be in the front row.
"Of course I probably should have done a bit more of a background check about what Hagrid is likely to show us," he mumbled to himself.
"Are you telling me you have done nothing to prepare for this class?" asked a Ravenclaw who obviously overheard him. Ant or Anthony or something was his name. "You, the boy who requested thirty four years of previous assignments as reference material to help him choose his other elective subjects, didn't think about this one?"
"I didn't say that," admitted Harry. "I mean, I did all the sensible things, like make sure I am wearing this older set of robes, and I had a bucket load of cushioning and anti-piercing charms put on them. Plus I'm wearing ex-army surplus, steel capped boots, and I've got a pair of Dragon-hide gloves and a first aid kit ready to go, but I should have asked somebody to snoop around a bit so we had a better idea.
"Still, I'm not going to get all worked up about the fact Hagrid is carrying a club. I mean, maybe it has nothing to do with the animals he is teaching us about and he just uses it to beat students who don't pay attention or show proper respect?"
This did not reassure Anthony or any of the others that heard, and they all suddenly felt very vulnerable.
#
"A wand?" Harry asked in amazement as Hagrid waved the huge wand to summon the ropes of the Hippogriffs. "That tree trunk is a wand?"
"Twenty eight and half inches, Ash with eye of Newt core," announced Hagrid proudly. "Good for basic spellwork and – "
Hagrid suddenly swung his wand out and smacked down the raised claw of the Hippogriff that was about to gut one of the pretty Indian twins Harry was so much more aware of this year.
"Get back, ya silly creature," he ordered, using his wand to poke the snarling beast back. "And good for giving things a bit of a whack now and then."
Harry gave Ant an apologetic look.
"I think Olivander was going to make a broom handle or sum'in out of it before I came in. 'Course, it's all thanks to you Harry, for suggesting how I could go about clearing me name up last year and all that."
Harry smiled weakly, genuinely happy for Hagrid, but worried about the possibly ramifications of having the huge man want to repay him in some way. His concern was shown to be justified towards the end of the lesson.
"Tell ya what. 'Ow about you take him fer a ride, eh?" asked Hagrid enthusiastically.
"Not unless you have a saddle, and a muzzle." answered Harry. "And a parachute. Definitely a parachute."
"Well I ain't got no parachute, whatever that is, but you'll be right," said Hagrid, grabbing the back of Harry's robes and lifting him onto the creatures back. "Off ya go."
Then he slapped the hippogriff's rump, sending the creature racing, Harry clinging desperately to its back.
#
"Wow, Harry," said Ernie in an awed voice. "You really can fly, can't you? I thought for sure you were going to fall off when it landed."
"Nah," said Harry, grimacing as they walked back up to the castle.
"I dunno. The speed that Buckbeak came in at was pretty crazy," said Zachariah. "I thought he was trying to throw you off, the way he slammed on the brakes. And those loops and things looked bloody amazing, but seriously dangerous."
"Probably was," agreed Harry, carefully taking each step up the slope.
"Well you are a hell of a flyer for not getting tossed," said Ernie.
"Couldn't," gasped Harry, earning a confused look from his friends.
"Why's that? Afraid of looking bad in front of the Ravenclaws or something?" teased Zachariah.
"Or the girls at least," added Ernie, smiling. "Wouldn't want to land face first in the dirt in front of the girls now, would you Harry?"
"Nah," explained Harry. "I got a couple of seconds to think after we took off, and I managed to use my wand."
A shocked silence greeted that announcement.
"You got some balls casting a spell on the beast while you were in the air," said Ernie, even more awed. "What did you do to it?"
"To it? Nothing – I'm lazy, not suicidal," said Harry, stopping to catch his breath. "No, I cast a sticking charm on myself to make sure I couldn't fall off."
Another second of silence followed, and then the other two boys began to grin.
"It wasn't on your hands was it?" asked Zachariah, a sly smile creeping onto his face.
"No, it was not on my hands," admitted Harry.
"And that's why you are walking funny, isn't it?" Zachariah added.
"Yep."
"You caste a sticking charm on your behind, didn't you?"
"Do you really need it spelt out?" asked Harry.
"Oh yeah," laughed Ernie. "We need to make completely certain that we have all of the facts straight so that when we retell this story, it can't be contradicted in any way."
"You sound like a bleeding 'claw," grumbled Harry, a little bit annoyed at their laughing and teasing.
"Are you going to go to the infirmary?" asked Ernie.
"Nope. No way am I going to march up all those steps just to get poked and prodded in a currently very sensitive section of my body," explained Harry, starting to walk again before stopping with a thoughtful look on his face. "Then again, it could get me out of classes for a day or two- come on lads, I need a lift to the infirmary – that'll get you a half hour off the next class. Hope you have all practiced your levitation charms."
Trying hard not to laugh, but unable to hide their grins at his unfortunately injury, his friends drew their wands and prepared to figure out how to levitate Harry to the infirmary without causing further pain.
"I wonder what Hagrid will have next week," said Ernie with far too much enthusiasm.
Harry groaned.