Chapter One
It was the beginning of autumn at
Hogwarts; the Whomping Willow had begun to shed its leaves and Professor
Trelawney had begun to shed her skin, like the lizard she’d always secretly
been. Harry Potter stood in Dumbledore’s office, while the headmaster sat at
his desk, his twinkling blue eyes peered at Harry over his half-moon croissant.
“So as you can see, Harry, this is a
very serious situation. Very serious indeed.”
Harry wasn’t listening. He was
imagining what Hogwarts would be like if Dumbledore was a duck.
“You have failed to pass your exams,
and therefore must repeat your final year of Hogwarts,” Dumbledore continued.
“What?!” cried Harry, unruly black
hair spilling from his open satchel. He had picked the wrong morning to shave a
large black monkey and stash the hair in his fashionable shoulder bag. “I can’t
repeat a year without Ron and Hermione! I’ll have to sit with Hagrid at lunch!”
Dumbledore leant forwards, and, in a
hushed voice he said: “There is one way you can get enough extra credit to
pass. But it must stay just between us, do you understand?”
Harry nodded fervently, although he
knew it would be hard not to confide in Justin Finch-Fletchly, his one true
friend and confidante. “I will do anything, Professor,” he said. “Except take
Neville’s grandmother to the mall again. That was the worst six days of my
life.”
“Are you a fan of the theatre,
Harry?” asked Dumbledore presently, opening his desk drawer.
“Er – I suppose,” said Harry,
confused.
“Confused, Harry?” asked Dumbledore.
“No,” said Harry, more confused.
“More confused, Harry?” asked
Dumbledore.
“No,” said Harry, even more confused
“This is a screenplay I wrote when I
was seventeen,” said Dumbledore, taking a scroll of parchment from his drawer.
“It is a heart-breaking tale of love, loss, and new beginnings,
featuring star-crossed lovers who defy all odds to be together. I originally wrote
it for my lover, Grindelwald, and I to perform at our senior prom but on the
night of the dress rehearsal he banged my mum so I had to kill him.”
“So what do you want me to do?”
asked Harry.
“Well, Harry, you would be
fulfilling one of my wildest fantasies if you would act in my play as one of
the lead characters, actually – the character I based on myself.”
“This seems completely fine and
normal,” said Harry, “but who will play the role of my lover?”
“That is the tricky part,” said
Dumbledore, “you see, this production must be perfect and there is only one
young man for the role. Draco Malfoy.”
“Malfoy!” cried Harry. “He would
likely never agree to this!”
“Well, find some way to make him
agree to this, or I will be seeing you next year!” cried Professor Flitwick. It
was strange that neither of them had noticed him enter the room, but what was
even more strange was that he had somehow fit seamlessly into their
conversation.
Harry sighed, and took the parchment
from Dumbledore’s desk. “You have 24 hours to convince him,” Dumbledore called after
Harry, as he disappeared down the spiral stairwell.
***
Harry sat in the great hall flicking
half-heartedly through Dumbledore’s screenplay. He was completely at a loss as
to how to convince Malfoy to co-star as his romantic interest. He glimpsed a
familiar figure coming towards him. He knew all too well that greasy black
hair, that sallow skin, those dark robes.
“Hermione,” he said as the figure
reached him, “you look especially goth today!”
She took a seat across from him and
brushed her black hair out of her black eyes. “What’s that?” she asked,
noticing the parchment.
“Basically some child porn that
Dumbledore’s blackmailing me into doing.”
“Harry!” Hermione cried, horrified.
“You have to tell someone about this!”
“Who can I tell?” said Harry,
thinking wistfully of Justin Finch-Fletchly and the night they had spent under
the stars, divulging to each other their greatest dreams, ambitions and
anxieties. He wished Justin were with him now.
“What about Professor McGonagall?” said
Hermione, “she’s always been your mentor.”
“It’s true that I have come to think
of her as a sort of great, great grandfather. But I just don’t know if I should
get her involved. Besides, I kind of have to go through with this.”
“Why?” asked Hermione.
Harry hesitated. He knew he couldn’t
tell Hermione he had failed his exams. She had already lost enough respect for
him that week when Moaning Myrtle beat him in an arm wrestle. She could never
know about this.
Luckily, he was saved from answering
her by the sudden appearance of Ron, his ginger pet mule. “Hey Ron!” he said.
“I still can’t believe you named
your pet mule after Ron,” said Hermione.
“Can you blame me, Hermione?! They
have the exact same smile.”
Harry’s attention was abruptly
captured by a group of Slytherin’s entering the great hall. They wore Slytherin
robes and made their way towards the Slytherin table. So typical thought Harry. Malfoy was among them.
“Harry!” snapped Hermione, “Are you
listening to me? I said I still think you should go to Professor McGonagall
about this.”
“You’re probably right, Hermione,”
said Harry, “after all, you were right about Filch stealing my mail.”
Conveniently, Professor McGonagall
entered the great hall at that very moment. “I’ll be right back,” Harry said to
Hermione, seizing the screenplay and making his way quickly towards the staff
table.
“Professor McGonagall!” he said, “as
my mentor and grandfather I need your advice and counsel!” He explained his entire predicament and she
nodded thoughtfully.
“I’m very glad you came to me with
this, Potter,” she said. “Obviously at Hogwarts we take things like this very
seriously. Especially for a re-offender like Albus.”
Harry nodded gravely. “So you can
help me?”
“I can, Potter, but right now I am
late for my paragliding class. Meet me in my office tomorrow morning at 9
o’clock sharp.”
“I knew I could count on you,” he
said to his new scientific calculator. “Oh, and thanks, Professor.”
Harry returned to the Gryffindor
table, where Hermione was sitting. She had been joined by a ginger haired
Gryffindor girl who seemed vaguely familiar. He tried to recall her name.
“Hey, uh… Jenny…” he said to the
girl.
“It’s Ginny!” said the girl,
annoyed.
Harry turned to see where the girl
was pointing. Ginny had just entered the great hall. The girl stood and walked
away angrily.
“Jenny has beef with Ginny,”
Hermione explained. “Everyone’s talking about it.”
“Why does no one tell me the
gossip?” demanded Harry, slamming his fists against the table to show that he
was serious.
“Because you never listen. And
because you’re always so wrapped up in your own things.”
Harry wasn’t listening. He was
imagining what Hogwarts would be like if Dumbledore was a duck.
***
Late that evening Harry and Ron sat
in front of the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room. Harry was patiently
brushing the knots out of Ron’s tail.
“Harry!” cried Hermione, joining
them, “how can you look so calm?”
“I already told you, McGonagall is
going to fix everything,” said Harry, gently immersing his face into Ron’s soft
ginger fur.
“You mean you didn’t hear? McGonagall
was killed in a paragliding accident this evening!”
Harry leapt to his feet. “No!” he
exclaimed, “I have to go… I need you to wash Ron’s hooves for me, okay?” He raced
out of the common room. He had no time to mourn Professor McGonagall. Now that
she was unable to help him, he had only 12 hours to convince Malfoy to be in
Dumbledore’s erotic screenplay.
He found Malfoy and his friends
loitering outside the dungeons. They were smoking cigarettes and doing kick
flips on their skateboards. He approached Malfoy anxiously.
“I need to talk to you, Malfoy,”
said Malfoy.
Harry was somewhat thrown by what
Malfoy had said but he did not let it deter him. “Look Malfoy,” he said, “I need
you to be in this play with me. We’d have to make out in some scenes but it
would be strictly professional.”
“You must be joking, Potter!” said
Malfoy.
“You’re right, I am joking,” said
Harry, due to his chronic need to be accepted. He turned away from Malfoy and
that was when he saw him. A boy about Malfoy’s age, and about Malfoy’s build,
with pale blonde hair and blue eyes. “Who are you?” he called to the boy.
“Are you serious, Harry? I sat next
to you in transfiguration for seven years!” the boy said.
“I’m sorry, I – I’m too focused in
class to pay much attention to the people around me,” said Harry.
“I came to your last birthday party,
I was the only one there.”
Harry shook his head, perplexed.
“We’re from the same home town. We
used to swim at the lake together every weekend. Remember the summer my cousin
drowned? You held my hand during the entire funeral. Then we killed a dog
together.”
“Look, I’m sorry, I see a lot of
people,” said Harry, “so don’t be too offended that I don’t remember you.”
The boy sighed. “Fine. My name’s
Dave.”
“Well Dave, how would you like to feature
in some amateur porn?”
Dave’s eyes narrowed suspiciously,
“but what’s the catch?” he asked.
“You have to pretend to be Malfoy.”
“I’ll do it!” said Dave, “but only
because I want to further my career as a professional actor and not because I
secretly enjoy dressing up as Malfoy.”
“Excellent,” said Harry. “Can you
meet me outside Dumbledore’s office in 15 minutes? And try to look as much like
Malfoy as possible.”
“That will be fine. I have replicas
of his robes in my locker.”
Harry watched as his new friend
Dave disappeared down the corridor and felt sure that things were going to
work out.
***
Harry and Dave entered the office
where Dumbledore was setting up his camera. Snape stood rigidly beside him.
“Why is Snape here?” asked Harry,
surprised.
“Because, Potter, we are filming
scene 12 first,” said Snape, “20 points from Gryffindor.”
“And hopefully Minerva will be
joining us later,” said Dumbledore.
“He doesn’t know?” Harry whispered.
“I didn’t have the heart to tell
him,” said Snape. “ Let him believe she’s at space camp a little longer. Also 20
points from Gryffindor.”
Dumbledore turned to look at them.
He eyed Harry and Dave doubtfully. “Hmm,” he said suspiciously, looking at
them closely. “I’m suspicious. You look different Harry.”
“Oh,” said Harry, “that’s because I
shaved my head.”
“You did too,” said Dumbledore,
“Alright… places, everyone. So, Harry and Snape are in the Jacuzzi, and Malfoy
enters stage right. And… action.”
“Wait, wait, wait!” cried Harry.
“You said I might have to peg Malfoy, but there was no mention of having to be in
a Jacuzzi with Snape. Can’t we start with scene… four?”
Dumbledore thought for a moment.
“We’d have to send for Neville and the Patil twins but I suppose we can do
that.”
***
“Cut!” cried Dumbledore, “your
delivery is all wrong, Harry! In fact, everyone’s acting has been a little off
since I removed my clothes.”
“200,000 points from Gryffindor,
Potter!” hissed Snape from his position between Neville and Pavarti.
Harry felt glad he that had
secretly transferred to Hufflepuff. He disentangled himself from Dave and
Padma. “I know why I’m doing this, Snape, but why are you?”
“I’m proving my loyalty,” said
Snape, “200 billion points from Gryffindor!”
“Alright,” said Dumbledore,
“Professor Sprout and Ernie Macmillan are in the next scene. Ernie, you get
into the hammock with Lockhart and Madame Rosmerta. Professor Sprout, join the
Bloody Baron and Hagrid on the bed.”
Harry glanced around the office. It
seemed as though almost all of Hogwarts was part of Dumbledore’s play. Even Ron
and Hermione were there, making out in the corner. Harry wondered briefly if he
should tell human Ron but quickly dismissed the thought.
“Hey, Dumbledore!” yelled Charlie
Weasley, “Are you going to use these dragon’s soon? They’re getting kind of
restless.”
“Oh yes those are for the final
scene, where Harry and Malfoy profess their love on the balcony,” said
Dumbledore into his megaphone.
There was a knock at the door and it
opened to reveal a group of Slytherins, and among them: Draco Malfoy.
“Malfoy?!” Dumbledore was aghast.
“But you’re – but…” He stared between Malfoy and Dave, then he looked sternly
towards Harry. “Harry, you tricked me, and you lied to me,” he said.
“I – I can explain!” said Harry.
“You’ve always been jealous of my
screenplay!” said Dumbledore, jumping to conclusions.
“Professor you’re jumping to
conclusions,” said Harry, jumping to conclusions.
“That’s it! You do not get your
extra credit!”
“This is all your fault, Malfoy!”
said Malfoy.
“Is that supposed to be your way of
apologising?” cried Harry, “because I don’t forgive you!”
“Give him a break, Harry!” cried
Dave. “He has three prosthetic limbs.”
Dumbledore’s office door flew open
again, and there stood Professor McGonagall. Everyone collectively gasped.
Several people died due to the the sharp decrease in the room’s oxygen.
“Minerva!” cried Snape, “you’re
alive! But HOW?”
“Quite simple really, Severus,” said
McGonagall, “Just after my paraglider failed and I began plummeting to my
death, I was saved by a large hawk, who carried me in her beak back to her nest
where she raised me as one of her own. Once I was strong enough to fly I came
back here immediately to put a stop to Albus’ screenplay.”
“You’ve always been jealous of my
screenplay!” said Dumbledore.
“We need to talk, Albus,” said McGonagall,
“everyone else, out! Potter, Malfoy, other Malfoy, Ron, other Ron, Lucius, everyone,
go!”
Everyone hurried down the spiral
staircase. When they were in the corridor Harry turned to Dave. “I’m sorry I
used you, Dave,” said Harry.
“It’s alright Harry, I was using you
too.”
“I just wish there was some way for
me to get that extra credit.”
“It will be okay, Harry,” said
Dave, resting his small hand on Harry’s shoulder, “remember what you said
that one day at the lake? Things will always work out for you because you’re
rich and famous. Then you laughed at me for 40 minutes because I had just got a
bee sting on my eye.”
“Thank you Dave,” said Harry,
fighting back tears. He took Dave’s oddly child-sized hands in his. “I won’t
forget you, and I won’t forget our time together.”
***
When the sun rose on Hogwarts the
next morning, Harry and Ron were sitting in the grounds. Harry was running his
hands through Ron’s soft mane. “I’m so glad I have you Ron,” said Harry, “I
love being able to ride you between classes.”
“I love that too,” said Ron, “but I
feel like we haven’t hung out as much since you got that pet mule.”
“You could be right,” said Harry
thoughtfully, “I’m thinking about giving Ron away though. He hogs my duvet.”
“Who was that blonde guy you were
talking to before, anyway?” asked Ron.
“Huh? Oh… I dunno.”
In the distance Harry saw a tall
figure with a long silver beard and half-moon spectacles approaching them.
“Hermione is dressing really weird
these days,” he said to Ron.
“Yeah,” said Ron looking up at her.
“I’m gonna go talk to her. Besides, Dumbledore is standing behind you and looks
like he wants to talk.”
Dumbledore knelt beside him and
cleared his throat. “Harry, I think I owe you an apology. I should never have
dragged you into my twisted fantasy, and for that I am sorry.”
“That’s okay, Dumbledore.”
“No it isn’t, Harry. I don’t know
what I was thinking. We didn’t have the budget for the big musical number,
anyway. I blew it all on an investment in skirts for men.”
“You could make it up to me,
Professor, if you would give me that extra credit so I never have to come back
here again.”
“Consider it done,” said
Dumbledore. “But first you must give me the name of that Malfoy lookalike you
got. He was dynamite on camera.”
“What Malfoy lookalike?”
“Ah, never mind,” said Dumbledore,
getting to his feet. “Enjoy your last few days at Hogwarts, Harry.”
***
Harry, Ron and Hermione boarded the
Hogwarts express for the last time. They reached their compartment and sat
down.
“Who’s that blonde guy waving at
you, Harry?” asked Hermione, standing at the window.
“No idea, just draw the blinds.”
“I’m so glad you don’t have to
repeat a year, Harry,” said Harry.
Ron and Hermione looked at him,
bemused. “Why’d you say your own name like that, Harry?” said Harry.
“What are you doing?” asked
Hermione.
“I dunno. Malfoy just had this thing
that he did and it seemed cool, I wanted it to be my thing.”
Hermione and Ron just looked at him.
“Guys,”
he said, subtly changing the subject, “we should be happy. We’ve graduated
Hogwarts, and there’s no one I’d rather be with right now. Well, I guess it’d
be cool if human Ron were here too but you can’t have everything.”
Chapter Two
The three of them embraced and the
Hogwarts Express carried them into the horizon.
