"Harry, I need for you to come to Professor Dumbledore's office for a little bit, okay?"
Trying to hide his glee at being removed from the assured torture of Divination, Harry bade goodbye to his confused friends, and followed his guardian up the marble staircase to the headmaster's office.
"Remus, why do I need to see Dumbledore?" Harry inquired. "What's happened?"
"The headmaster wants to give you your O.W.L. results, Harry," said Remus nervously. "There wasn't a chance for you to get them over the summer, with ... everything."
A thought sprang into young Harry's head, in much the same way as a disused light-bulb shines through a dusty hallway.
"So, I'll find out what classes I got into?"
"Exactly."
"Remus ... have you seen them?"
"No-one but Dumbledore has access to information like that, Harry."
Tension began to rise in the boy's stomach, and his throat became dry with anticipation. Had he been more observant, he would have noticed that Remus was almost as nervous as he was.
A short time later, Harry sat in front of Dumbledore's desk, with Remus Lupin laying a comforting hand on his shoulder. Professor Snape was also present, much to Harry's dismay, as he had been speaking with the headmaster moments before. Harry gulped as he remembered signing up for Snape's classes last term in the hopes of becoming an Auror.
"Right ..." Dumbledore muttered, "where did I put those results then?"
He commenced turning his desk inside out in his search. As he disappeared underneath numerous drawers and countless silver instruments, Harry remembered the rage he had unleashed upon the delicate office last term with an enormous amount of pleasure.
"Okay then," Dumbledore said at last, "here you are, my boy, and well done."
Harry took the crumpled piece of parchment from Dumbledore's grasp, and with bated breath, he did his best to decipher the results hidden underneath old tea-stains.
1) Talk to Severus about new secret mission,
2) Give Potter his O.W.L. results,
3) Buy new socks at Gladrags,
4) Try to stop Voldemort before he goes too far, again,
5) Try to plait my beard so it will curl in waves and ...
"Oh, sorry, here it is," said Dumbledore happily, handing Harry an equally shabby piece of parchment.
NAME OF CANDIDATE: Harry James Potter
Astronomy ~ A
Care of Magical Creatures ~ E
Charms ~ E
Defence Against the Dark Arts ~ O
Divination ~ P
Herbology ~ A
History of Magic ~ P
Potions ~ O
Transfiguration ~ E
"Hey, that's not bad! I got seven O.W.L's, and the other two were high passes!"
"Well done, Harry!" said Remus excitabley.
"Well, Harry, this qualifies you for all the classes you applied for, those being - Transfiguration, Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Potions ... and Divination."
"Now wait a second!" Harry and Snape said simultaneously.
"Is there a problem?"
"Yes," said Harry angrily, "I don't want to do Divination, Ron signed me up for it!"
"There is no way on this earth that I am going to endure another two years of this little prat," said Severus Snape coolly.
"Harry - if you are signed up for a class and have been accepted, you must attend."
"But I didn't!" Harry yelled, until Remus nudged him in the back, warning him to be respectful. "I mean, I got a P."
"Yes, well, Trelawney will take anyone, her classes tend to be very small at N.E.W.T. level."
"I wonder why?" said Harry sarcastically.
"As for you, Severus, you will teach whom you are paid to teach."
"You couldn't pay me enough to teach this arrogant little toe - rag. How many times do I need to say I hate him?"
"Severus,"
"I don't care, I'm not having him in my class! He must have cheated."
"I did not!" Harry shouted. "Maybe I'm just better at Potions than you ever allowed me to be!"
A stunned silence followed these words, as Snape put his face very close to Harry's. Harry wished he wouldn't use that as a form of intimidation, Snape's breath smelled awful.
"Very well, Potter, bring your arrogant little self to my classroom this evening, and we'll see how much you know. And be warned, Potter, you're in for hell."
"All done!"
The Dark Lord proudly held up the finished version of his book to the Death Eaters gathered around him. Two of these devoted followers lay dead at his feet, after Lucius Malfoy's ill-fated attempt to persuade some of the Death Eaters to stop adding sugar and marshmallows to Voldemort's hot chocolate.
"It's wonderful, my Lord."
"I would like someone else's opinion for once, Lucius." He stared coldly at his kneeling servants. "Well?"
"... wonderful, my Lord."
"Yes, sir ... absolutley spiffing."
"Oh, damn you all," Voldemort grumbled. "Every single one of you is utterly incapable of giving an individual opinion." Opening another bag of marshmallows, he flicked through the book with satisfaction.
"Hmm ... it really is wonderful," he sighed happily. "Lucius, I'm off to the publishers. You're in charge."
Preparing to Disapparate, he called out, "Mind those marshmallows - I've counted them!"
With that, the Dark Lord vanished, a copy of his colourful book under his arm.
Harry headed towards Defence Against the Dark Arts in despair. After his meeting with the headmaster, he was disappointed to see that he was only twenty minutes late for Divination, and there was ample time left for Trelawney to predict his death.
Sure enough, the old fraud wasted no time in commenting on his demise in the not-so-distant future. Much to Harry's dismay however, she predicted that his death would be related to a marshmallow overdose, and Harry's throat watered as she continued, oblivious to Harry's addiction. As she commenced going into immense detail as to the texture of the marshmallow, Harry almost screamed as his craving peaked. Thankfully, the bell rang at this moment, but the day was not over yet.
Transfiguration was no better, as McGonagall assigned the class to transform balls of parchment into marshmallows. As Harry did so, he was overcome at the sight of his forbidden fruit, and quickly stuffed the transfigured parchment into his mouth.
"Potter, no! It's not real, Potter, the parchment only takes on the appearance of a marshmal - someone help him, he's choking! Potter, this is why I specifically asked you to read the theory."
In Potions, Snape vindictively set them the task of making a Lustias Potion, which made the drinker crave whatever ingredient was added to it at the last moment. Snape added a marshmallow to Harry's, and bade him drink it, increasing Harry's want for marshmallows ten-fold. Through his pain, Harry vaguely wondered where his professor had gotten the marshmallow.
So it was with a heavy heart that our young friend made his way towards Defence Against the Dark Arts, vowing to walk straight out again if Snape was teaching this class, or if it had anything to do with marshmallows.
To his delight, Remus Lupin was taking the class, and it appeared they would be doing a revision lesson on O.W.L. material, before Remus prepared to take them through the N.E.W.T.'s with his own specially prepared classes of advanced Dancing Against the Dark Arts.
After an interesting lesson introducing this kind of defence, some of which Harry remembered from his lessons in Grimmauld Place, Remus pulled Harry aside as the rest of the class filed out.
"So, Harry, how have you been?"
"I'm fine, Professor."
"Please, Harry, it's Remus. Surely you know me well enough by now."
"Okay, Remus, it was crap. Your lesson didn't help much either, but at least it wasn't about bloody marshmallows."
"Stay strong, Harry. Remember, even the smallest person can change the course of the future."
"Remus, you really have to stop reading 'The Lord of the Rings'."
"But I'm serious. This task was appointed to you, and if you can't make it ..."
"Really, Remus! Cut it out!"
Harry swung his bag onto his back, and stormed out of the classroom. He didn't know how much more of this he could take.
As he lay in bed that night, Harry tossed and turned in his sleep, disturbed once again by visions of the Dark Lord. His scar seared with pain as he felt Voldemort's anger.
"They said they were only joking! They refused to publish my book! MY BOOK!!! You know how long I spent colouring it."
"Yes, my Lord."
"This has gone too far, Lucius. How dare those pathetic Muggles oppose me?"
"Quite right, my Lord."
"Very well - this calls for a new plan. It will have to involve - "
"Err ... Harry Potter, my Lord?"
"Exactly Lucius, well done."
With that, the dream faded from Harry's view, yet the Boy-Who-Lived was left with a strange sensation of having fallen from the sky. It was only then he realised he had fallen out of bed.