It Wasn't THAT Bad!

Harry's face burned. This was too much. What he'd done hadn't been that bad, for Merlin's sake! This was just embarassing! If Malfoy ever found out about this - which was likely, as he had taken to turning up wherever Harry went, probably spying on him for Voldemort - he could kiss his self-esteem goodbye! Or what he had left of it after the spectacle people seemed to think he'd made of himself yesterday.

Harry scraped the floor with his feet as he walked, feeling as though he would have liked to have had Dudley's Smeltings Stick with him so that he could hit things with it as he went. The worst thing was that however much he hated this he couldn't do anything about it. He could hardly disobey a direct instruction from Dumbledore.

His anger rose even higher as he thought of the headmaster. As much as Harry respected him, he couldn't help being thoroughly cheezed off with him at the moment. He had blown this out of all proportion. I mean, okay so he had blown up in Snape's face last week (using what Harry thought was very creative language that he should be given credit for). But really someone should have done that years ago. Sure, he'd put that Disfigurement Hex on that fourth year who'd trodden on his foot the other day. But the little twerp hadn't even been looking where he was going. And he hadn't looked that bad - no worse than Moody, anyway, and he never made a fuss about it.

As for yesterday, well, Dumbledore may think that punching someone in the face and breaking two of their teeth was 'the last straw', as he put it, but Harry didn't see what all the fuss was about. I mean, it was Malfoy for crying out loud! If he'd broken both his legs, who would have cared? And as for his reaction to being told about tonight's session, who wouldn't start swearing and shouting and throwing things and telling Dumbledore where to stick his good intentions?

Okay, maybe he could have acted better... but that was no reason to suggest he take anger-management therapy!

I do not have a bad temper! he thought, kicking the foot of a suit of armer and then hopping up and down on one foot in pain. Stupid armer! Why does it have to be so damn hard!

Limping slightly, he reached the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy and walked back and forth in front of the bare stretch of wall opposite it three times. The door to the Room of Requirement appeared and Harry went inside.

The room was almost completely empty. All that was there were two large comfortable-looking armchairs and a steaming mug. Harry tasted it - it was Maxim Strength Lemsip. Great, even the Room of Requirement was making fun of him! He put it back on the table so violently that some of it spilled over the edges of the mug.

He sat down in the armchair. It was as comfortable as it looked and he relaxed slightly, feeling his anger begin to ebb away. He wondered for the first time who the therapist was going to be. Perhaps Madam Pomfrey? Did the school have a counceller? Or maybe Dumbledore had called in a professional from St Mungo's? Brilliant, he thought, that's really going to help people to believe I'm not a nut case.

Harry was just considering drinking the Lemsip when the door opened, and he looked up expectantly. And the person he saw come into the room was the very last person he had ever thought it could be.

Oh, sweet Merlin! This couldn't be happening! No, no, no, no! Harry knew he'd recovered and gotten a job but -

"Let me introduce your new anger-management counsellor - me!"

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!

-fin-