Harry Potter and the Return of the Insanity

* * *

“Come on, Harry,” Sirius was saying, as Lupin clattered noisily around the kitchen. “We’ve still got to get to Diagon Alley for your school things.”

Harry sleepily raised his head, peeling his cheek off the back of his hand and straightening his glasses. “Wha?” he muttered blearily, wiping a trail of drool off his chin.

“School, Harry,” Lupin laughed, setting a pan on the suspiciously clean stove. “You know, that vast stone building where you supposedly receive your education.”

“What about it?” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes under his glasses. His head was fuzzy and heavy, and he couldn’t quite remember just how he’d wound up at the kitchen table--

Doors! Harry sat fully up and looked quickly around, hoping wildly it hadn’t all been a dream. “Where’s Doors?” he asked, quite awake now.

“Oh, she’s around here somewhere,” said Sirius, looking somewhat amused. “Last I checked, she was howling over the state of the vegetable garden out back.”

Harry’s eyes must have gone as round as he thought they had, for Lupin clapped a hand on his shoulder to keep him from racing for the door.

“Not just yet, Harry. Breakfast’s ready.”

Harry wolfed his bacon and eggs, the morning sunshine pouring through the kitchen window and splashing across everything. Now that his mind wasn’t spinning like an overwound top, he realized that he and Ron were due back on the Hogwarts Express the day after tomorrow, and he still hadn’t gotten any of the supplies on his list.

Doors came clattering in while he was gulping orange juice, her hands and robes covered with earth and a great wisp of hair sticking out of the top of her braid. “Sirius, I don’t know how even you could wind up with a garden that disgusting,” she said, wiping her hands on Lupin’s back. “You didn’t even think to perform a basic Slug Repelling Charm, did you? Your tomatoes are holier than Remus’s socks!”

She sat down at the table and snatched a piece of toast, scattering clods of earth over the floor and jogging Harry’s elbow.

“What?” she asked, as Harry stared at her. “Still think I’m going to disappear if you breathe wrong?”

Harry nodded faintly, and Doors threw a thin arm around his shoulders. “Well, I’m not,” she smiled, leaning her forehead against his. “Like it or not, I certainly hope I’ll be around for a while.”

Harry started to grin back at her, but before he could say anything the kitchen door burst open, admitting a freshly scrubbed, polished, and gleeful Ron Weasley, closely followed by Fred, George and Hermione, who must have arrived early. “Come on, Harry, time’s wasting!” he said, jangling a bag of something that sounded suspiciously like money. “Mum gave me some extra money to spend, and if we hurry we can still make--”

Ron stopped dead in his tracks, Fred and George slamming to a halt behind him and nearly squashing Hermione. His eyes went rounder than dinner plates, and he paled visibly beneath his freckles. For a moment he just stood, gawking, and then--

“AAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!” He and the twins made a mad dive out the door, crashing through a trellis covered in Virginia creeper and landing with a muffled thud in Lupin’s pile of old takeout boxes outside the door. Hermione continued staring open-mouthed, until a hand appeared and jerked her out of view by her collar.

Harry blinked, startled, wondering just what could have--

“Oh, NO,” he moaned, fighting back laughter as he glanced at Doors, who had smacked her forehead.

“Something tells I’m going to get that a lot,” she said, her eyes twinkling as she shook her head.

Ron’s eyes peeped around the doorjamb. Harry knew the scene must look odd, to say the very least; Sirius still tearing at his bacon; their kitchen halfway clean; Lupin rattling around with two dirty handprints on his back, and Harry sitting calmly over breakfast with his dead aunt.

“What?” he asked, suppressing a snort at Ron’s horrified expression. “Aren’t you going to have some eggs?”

Hermione’s eyes appeared above Ron’s, followed by George, then Fred. All blinked blankly at Doors, who grinned and somewhat lazily lobbed a spoonful of jam at them. It hit George square on the forehead, but so stunned was he that he didn’t seem to notice.

Hermione made a gagging noise.

“Oh, get in here, the lot of you,” Harry sighed, as a blob of jam dripped off George’s noise onto Hermione’s head. Without a word the four complied, standing rather uncertainly near the door, as though determined to keep an exit nearby. Exasperated, Harry flicked his wand and the door slammed shut behind them. Ron jumped.

“All right, you guys, believe it or not we can explain this,” he said, buttering some toast. “Or, well, they can.”

He watched on in amusement as Sirius launched into his spiel, while Doors shook silently with laughter and Lupin kept coughing into his sleeve. His friends’ astonished faces were enough to crack anyone up, and by the time Sirius had finished, Harry was choking into his napkin.

“So....that’s it?” croaked Hermione, still looking stunned. “P-Professor Doors is back for good?” Sirius nodded.

“Well, okay, then,” said Fred, grabbing a piece of toast and using it to scrape the jam off George’s forehead. “Good to have you back, Professor. Almost wish I was still in school to see the horrors this year.”

Sirius and Lupin exchanged meaningful glances, but said nothing.

“Well, anyhow,” said George, after a puzzled glance at both of them. “We came down here to get Harry. We’re on our way to Diagon Alley, as Ron was saying before he decided to send us all for a little flight. Mum’s given he and Ginny some extra money, so Fred and I thought we’d go along and, er, supervise their spending.” Ron snorted.

“Where is Ginny?” Harry asked, realizing that she hadn’t tumbled through the door with the rest of the horde..

“Percy had a cold,” Ron said, shivering. “Need I say more? She’ll be down in a minute; last we saw of her, she was trying to force some potion or other down Percy’s throat.” He drained a mug of orange juice. “Say, Professor,” he said, turning to Doors. “You want to come along with us and scare the bejeebies out of everyone?”

“Bejeebies?” Doors said, raising her eyebrows. “Honey, you’ve been around your mother too long. Nah, I’d better stay put and leave the shocking for when we get to Hogwarts.”

The twins snickered, and Harry raced to get dressed, flinging on a set of too-short robes and clattering about in search of his shoes.

As he dug under his bed for another sock, Hedwig soared in through his window, a dead mouse in her beak. She landed on his dresser and hooted sleepily.

“Hedwig,” he said, lacing up a worn sneaker. “I know I’ve said this before, but it’s been a VERY weird night.”

* * * * *

He, Hermione, and the Weasleys arrived in Diagon Alley about half an hour later, having forcefully pried Ginny from her somewhat ungrateful patient. Harry and Hermione headed off to Gringotts while Fred and George worked their mojo on their hapless siblings.

“Mrs. Weasley’s going to kill them,” said Hermione, as she and Harry made their way down the steps outside the snow-white building, their bags filled with clanking coins. They had just spotted Ron dragging a very irate Ginny away from Madam Malkin’s, where she had apparently, if Ron’s shouts were any indication, just spent half her money on a set of extremely fancy dress robes.

“We need dress robes?” said Harry, realizing that he still had yet to actually look at his school list. He pulled the piece of paper out of his pocket, and sure enough, down at the bottom it read ‘Dress robes are required for all pupils, as the school will be hosting several formal ceremonies over the course of the year.’

“Huh,” said Harry, bemused. “Wonder what that means?”

“I don’t know,” responded Hermione, looking over hers as well. “You mean Sirius didn’t tell you?”

“Not a word,” said Harry. They had caught up to Ron and the twins, who were trying to drag him back inside to try on dress robes of his own.

Harry shook his head and distracted them by mentioning that Ginny might want to pick up some extra Potions equipment, if she was planning on studying with Madam Pomfrey this year. Both twins shot him withering glares, but Ginny had dragged them off before they could curse him for it.

“Thanks,” sighed Ron, wiping his forehead. “Knowing those two, I’d wind up with something that looked like it came out of Peeves’s wardrobe.”

Harry and Hermione laughed, and the three headed in to brave the horrors of formal clothing.

The shop was packed; Harry slammed right into Parvati Patil and nearly knocked Lavender Brown into a rack of buttons. Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas were leaning against the wall near him, watching the chaos with amused looks on their faces, but the rest of the house seemed ready to start ripping throats if they didn’t get some service soon. Harry spotted poor Madam Malkin through the press, her mouth full of pins and looking very frazzled as she did up Padma Patil’s robes.

“What on earth is going on here?” demanded Hermione, staring at the chaos with her mouth open.

“Haven’t you heard?” asked Dean, snickering. Hermione shook her head.

“Ernie MacMillan says his cousin knows just why we’ve all got to get dress robes and stuff,” put in Seamus, his face reddening under his freckles. Harry got the distinct impression he was trying very hard not to laugh.

“And?” said Harry, not really sure he wanted to know.

Dean and Seamus looked at each other. “Well, we’re not sure we really believe it,” Dean said after a moment. “But according to Ernie, one of the professors is getting married this year.”

Harry gaped. “W-What?” he said, flabbergasted. “Who?”

Seamus shrugged. “Don’t know. Ernie just heard that’s what it was, and really, why else would we all need formal clothing? Dean’s taking bets on who it’ll be, but nobody knows for sure.”

Harry and Hermione looked at one another, wearing identical looks of shock. “Wow,” he said, understanding why Seamus wanted to laugh--the idea of any of their professors tying the knot was more than enough to make one chuckle. “Maybe that’s what Sirius was talking about last night.”

Seamus looked interested. “Huh?”

Harry hurriedly tread on Hermione’s foot, warning her not to say anything, and said, “He kept talking like something big was going on this year, but he wouldn’t say what. If that’s really what it is, though, no wonder he wouldn’t spill the beans. He’d want the shock value to stay as fresh as possible.”

Dean snorted. “Too late,” he said. “I think the crowd’s thinning a little; maybe we should try and find something before all the good stuff’s taken.” He and Seamus pressed into the throng, leaving Harry and Hermione to process this new information.

“Wonder who it is?” mused Harry, watching as Dean, head and shoulders taller than most of their classmates, sort of swam through the crowd. “I mean, I seriously can’t see any of our teachers having any sort of a social life.....”

Ron waded over to them, clutching a lumpy, paper-wrapped package and looking harassed. “I’m getting out of here,” he said, stumbling as a younger boy slammed into him. “I’ll meet you outside, all right?”

Harry nodded, and he and Hermione split up to corner different assistants.

It wasn’t easy. By the time Harry had actually managed to nab a seamstress, half the robes in the whole shop were gone, and he had to get a set of blue-green ones downsized about four sizes to fit him. He paid quickly, leaving the poor woman a fairly ample tip, and bumped into Hermione on his way out the door.

“Good Lord, what a madhouse,” she said, blowing a strand of hair from her red face. “How’d you do?”

Harry held up his package, which had been tied with a length of hem facing. “Good enough. Had to get them shrunk a bit, but I suppose they’ll do.” He pointed at Hermione’s parcel. “You?”

“Not bad, actually. Cost me enough, but at least I didn’t wind up like Hannah Abbott. I ran into her on my way from the changing room, and she’d picked out some dreadful frilly pink thing that looked like an overdone doily.”

Harry laughed, and the two of them rounded the corner to find Ron sitting at a table at Florean Flortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor, wolfing his way through a hot-fudge sundae and smearing chocolate all over his nose.

“Ron, it’s ten in the morning!” cried Hermione, aghast. “Couldn’t you at least wait until lunch?”

Ron belched. “Nope,” he said, licking the saucer and leaving his tab on the table. “Come on, let’s get to Flourish and Blotts.”

The three moved on, Hermione muttering darkly about poor nutrition until Ron called her Poppy Junior, at which point she abandoned her dignity and delivered a sharp elbow to his ribs. The two continued quibbling until they had reached the bookstore, where they found Ginny still poring over herbals and old medical books, despite Fred and George’s attempts to draw her off elsewhere.

“Don’t make eye contact,” Ron muttered, as the three shuffled past. Each grabbed a copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Six before consulting their lists again and heading off in different directions.

The shop was somewhat dusty, and by the time Harry had collected all his books he was coated in a fine powder and sneezing violently.

“Ag,” he muttered, as he paid at the counter. “Now I remember why I always avoid the library. I’m allergic to books.” He glanced at Hermione, who was loaded down with even more bags than she’d been in their third year, when she tried taking every course Hogwarts had to offer. “What gives?” he asked her, pointing.

“Oh, these? Well, they cancelled the N.E.W.T.s last year, so I’m sure we’ll be taking them this year instead....I just want to be prepared.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Hermione, if anyone in all Hogwarts is ready for the N.E.W.Ts, you are,” he said, checking the coast to see if Ginny was hanging around. The three darted quickly out the door and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Where to now?” Harry asked.

The trio wandered through the apothecary and Magical Menagerie (Crookshanks had fleas, so Hermione stopped in for a shampoo), and Harry and Ron dragged Hermione through Quality Quidditch Supplies, where they ran into Fred, George, and Ginny once more. The latter had her nose buried in some thick medical volume, while the twins watched Seamus Finnigan pile gold on the counter.

“Where’d you get all that?” demanded Ron, gaping, as the shopkeeper handed Seamus a neatly wrapped broomstick box.

“I got a job,” Seamus answered proudly. “Me dad paid me to be mail boy in his office, and I changed it all in at Gringotts for this beauty.” He patted the box, which read Nimbus Two Thousand and Three on it. “Not a Firebolt, but I could work for about nine years and still not afford one of those things.” He glanced out the window, to where his mother stood waving impatiently. “Ack, I’ve got to go. See you all at Hogwarts.” He waved and was gone.

“Wish I’d had a job,” grumbled Ron, rummaging around for his money bag. “Then I could have gotten this a couple years ago and still had a chance at the House Quidditch team.”

Harry stared at him as he plunked the bag on the counter, then realized Ron still hadn’t spent any of his extra money. He had quite a lot still in the purse, and apart from wondering where on earth the Weasleys had gotten so much extra money, he wanted to know just what Ron planned to do with it.

“I’ve been wanting one of these since first year,” said Ron gleefully, taking a gleaming Nimbus Two Thousand off the rack and laying it reverently on the counter. “They’ve made some modifications since then, of course, so it’s a bit faster and steadier than the old series, and now I’ve finally got a decent broomstick.” Hermione goggled as he paid the cashier about forty Galleons and shoved what was left back into the bag. Without waiting for she and Harry to retrieve their jaws, he bounded from the shop and into the street.

The three wandered about the alley all day, until late afternoon rolled around and they realized the twins and Ginny were long gone. Everywhere they went, they were held up by classmates swapping rumors about the wedding, which was now apparently a verifiable fact.

“I just know it’s McGonagall--she’s finally realized she needs a man,” gushed a Hufflepuff third year in the sweet shop.

“Not a chance,” laughed Ernie MacMillan. As the conveyer of the wild rumor, he was more than enjoying his time in the spotlight. “MCGONAGALL? She’s an old maid if there ever was one.”

“I bet it’s Professor Black,” Mandy Brocklehurst, a Ravenclaw sixth year, sighed dreamily. “He had to get taken sooner or later.”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all snorted into their tankards of cider. They wheeled round on Mandy, who went beet-red at the sight of them and made a mad dash for the restroom.

Colin and Denis Creevey, who had been sitting near Mandy, both waved excitedly when they caught sight of Harry. “Hey! Harry! Hi! Who do YOU think it is, Harry?” Colin squeaked breathlessly.

Harry fought back a sigh. “I don’t know, Colin,” he said. “Not a clue. I do know it’s not Sirius, though.” He and Ron both snickered, tucking Mandy’s little tidbit away to torment Sirius with later.

“What about him and your aunt, Harry? Wouldn’t they have made a good pair?” piped Denis, in an even squeakier voice than Colin. No sooner had he said it than his face fell, and Colin kicked him sharply.

“I-I’m awfully sorry, Harry, I just forg--”

To both the Creeveys’ intense surprise, Harry, Ron, and Hermione all exploded into gales of laughter, tears streaming down their faces. The shop was crowded and noisy, and so only the Creeveys stared at them, open mouthed. Their very nervous-looking Muggle father called them off before the could gather their wits and demand an explanation, leaving the three to gasp for air until they could speak again.

“You know they’re going to think you’re crackers now,” chucked Ron, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “Laughing when Doors is supposed to be dead, it looks like you’ve gone round the bend for sure.”

“Well, it won’t for long,” put in Hermione, chortling herself. “I mean, she is going back to Hogwarts with us, right? She said something about shocking everyone at the school.”

Harry paid, and the three of them made their way down the long cobbled street to the fireplace in the Leaky Cauldron, where the could safely Floo home.

The sun was slanting westward by the time they trundled up to the Burrow to drop off Ron and Hermione’s things. Fred and George popped out, to tell them that Mrs. Weasley didn’t know about either of the you-know-whats yet, and to keep their mouths shut. The trio wisely mentioned nothing, and made their way down the grassy slope to Harry’s cottage wondering just what Doors would have done to the place.

The answer became immediately apparent when they entered the clearing, and found the entire shabby surface of the cottage covered in a tangled, leafy vine. Smoke was rising from the chimney, and from inside the house there came a terrific crash as something very big made contact with the floor.

Harry stopped, glancing askance at the now unfamiliar dwelling and wondering vaguely if they weren’t all reliving their Marauder days in there. Hermione grabbed his hand and pulled him forward.

They checked again on the threshold of the kitchen door, gawking. Not only could they actually see the counter (more or less--it was still littered with papers), Doors and Lupin appeared to be viciously dismembering the shelving in the sitting room. Sirius was nowhere to be seen, but if the splashing sounds on the second floor were any indication, he was actually attempting to do some laundry.

Harry gawked. “W-Wow,” he stammered, taking in the newfound semi-cleanliness with round eyes. “I thought you’d do some damage, Doors, but this.....” He trailed off.

Doors grinned at him, a wisp of silver-threaded frizz dangling in her face. “What, you think this was my idea? Good God no, honey, this whole insanity is Remus’s doing. He always was a tidy little boy......Of course, it could have just seemed that way because he shared a room with James and Sirius...” She broke off and made a perfectly killing oinking noise.

Harry laughed; upstairs, a heavy thud sounded, followed by a splash and a string of curses. “I heard that!” Sirius called crossly.

“Good for you,” Doors shot back, narrowly missing Lupin’s head with a shelf. “It would have been wasted if you hadn’t.”

Even Hermione snickered, and Ron started coughing very hard into his sleeve. “So, what exactly are you going to do with all this wood?” he asked, as Lupin zapped at the joists on one end and effectively collapsed the frame.

“That would be a question better posed to Sirius,” he said, whisking the lumber into a neat pile in the corner of the room. “Disassembling the shelves was his idea. I’ve no clue why, unless he wants to get rid of that wall.”

Ron shrugged, but Harry was watching his aunt. Something was different about her (well, besides the fact that she was alive), but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.....

“Hey,” he said suddenly. “You don’t need your cane any more.”

Doors glanced up, absently hopping over the broom Lupin had set to sweeping the floor. “Nope,” she cheerfully affirmed. “Thank God, too; I’d probably kill myself if I came back and still needed that damn thing.”

“But...I thought that spell or whatever it was returned you exactly as you had been,” said Harry in confusion. “What gives?”

“I made a few modifications,” Lupin put in, flicking the broom to a halt. “I knew Lorna would kill me if I brought her back still--er--handicapped.”

“Wise lad,” Doors said, throwing her arm around Lupin’s neck and catching him in a loose but inescapable headlock. “Otherwise I’d have to try that trick Sirius always used to use on Peter.”

“Please don’t,” grimaced Lupin. Harry got the distinct impression he was trying not to laugh. “I’d like to keep the blood flowing to my brain, thanks.”

Doors released him. “Party pooper,” she said, glancing at the ceiling as there came yet another crash from above. “What is he DOING up there?”

Harry shook his head. “Not sure I want to know,” he said. “But there is something I do want to know, and that’s is there any truth to this wedding rumor that was flying around Diagon Alley? Ernie MacMillan started it, but as all of you are teachers, you’d know if anyone would.”

Doors and Lupin looked at one another. “Hoo boy,” muttered the former, her bizarre voice taking on such a dismal inflection that all of them fought back a snort of laughter. “You want to do the honors, Remus?”

Lupin sighed. “Not really, but I somehow don’t think that matters,” he said mildly. “Yes, Harry, the rumor, for what it’s worth, is accurate, but truthfully we don’t know much more than you do. However....” He trailed off.

“However,” continued Doors, as Lupin turned away to hide a small smile. “Given what we do know, I’m not really sure we want to find out the rest of it.” She glanced at the ceiling as another thud shook the house, followed by a terrific splash and an indignant hooting that could only be Hedwig.

“Anyhow,” she went on. “The wedding’s due this Christmas, and we have the groom, at least, confirmed--”

Lupin snorted into his hand.

“This oughta be good,” muttered Ron. Hermione kicked him.

“Oh, it is,” Doors said, her eyes twinkling. “The groom happens to be one of your former Defense Against the Dark Arts professors, one, um, whatsisname...”

Harry paled. “Oh, you DON’T mean--” he started.

“--Gilderoy Lockhart,” Lupin finished, watching their stunned faces with amusement.

Dead silence, broken only by Sirius’s muted curses, fell.

“Eeep,” muttered Ron.

There was a loud thumping on the stairs, and a moment later Sirius, covered in soapsuds and odd socks, appeared in the doorway. He didn’t look pleased.

“Lorna,” he said, twitching a strand of dripping hair from his eyes. “I don’t know just what sort of spell you gave me, but right now I’ve got an army of pillowcases leading a war against Harry’s owl.” A sock fell off his shoulder and landed with a squelch.

The two adults exploded into laughter, and shook hands to congratulate one another.

“Smashing idea, old bean,” Doors said, chuckling.

“Some things never change,” Sirius grumbled darkly, sloshing back up the stairs and losing another sock along the way.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were still gawking. “Lockhart,” Harry murmured, thunderstruck. “Who on earth would marry LOCKHART? He doesn’t even know who he is, for crying out loud!”

“Greater mysteries await,” said Lupin, glancing at the clock over the mantelpiece. “And I dare say we’ll find out soon enough. Now come on, all of you, it’s time we ate something before Sirius decides to drown us all. You three still have an extra day, but he and I have to catch the early train back to Hogwarts tomorrow to set up.”

“What about Doors?” Harry asked, as they filed into the kitchen.

“Harry, you’re forgetting: As far as the rest of the wizarding world is concerned, Lorna here is dead.” Lupin grinned suddenly, mild but very knowing grin that made Ron and Hermione glance at one another and gulp. “Oh, I can’t wait to see the look on everyone’s faces when she turns up very much alive on Monday.”

Harry grinned as well--the thought had crossed his mind, and suddenly, he couldn’t wait for the start of term. In the span of one day his whole life had been flipped upside down yet again, leaving him somewhat disoriented but otherwise all right. And, he considered, as Sirius came splatting into the kitchen, that was not at all a bad thing.