Hi everyone! Catgrl52 here, wishing you a happy, um… happy, uh… TIME! Yeah, that's it, a happy time. This is my version of Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts (as you already know) and I would like to thank everyone who helped. Allison, my brother, and um… everyone else! I'm rambling. Rambling, rambling, rambling. So I'll shut up with the rambling now. Uh… where was I? Um… oh yeah! Disclaimer!

DISCLAIMER: not mine, not mine, NOT MINE! Ha. All characters and situations (sorta) are owned by J.K. Rowling and Scholastic books, blah blah blah, no money is being made off this and a-hem, "no copyright infringement is intended." HA!

Now! My fanfic! YAY!!!


The skinny boy with glasses, green eyes and unruly black hair stared out the window. Suddenly, he paled and closed his eyes, his face contorted in a sickened look of extreme displeasure. God, how he hated airplanes. He hated the food, the chairs, the overly cheerful flight attendants, trying to sleep sitting up in six square feet of space; name something that had anything at all to do with airplanes, Harry Potter hated it. Well, not quite everything. He didn't mind the flying too much - he just preferred flying on a broom a lot more. But there were three things about airplanes that he absolutely could not stand: taking off, landing, and turbulence. Harry never was able to decide which he hated most. So he settled for all three. Just like he could never decide which he hated most - Snape, Umbridge, or airplanes. So he settled for all three. Harry grimaced as the plane hit another rogue air current.

'Why,' Harry wondered. 'Why did the Dursleys have to bring me on this damn trip?' He already knew the answer. There was no way on the earth that Vernon Dursley was going to leave Harry, freaky Harry, weird Harry, abnormal Harry alone in his house for three weeks. Harry had begged and pleaded, he could stay in a hotel in Little Whinging, he could stay at Ron Weasley's house, he could stay at Hermione Granger's house, he could stay at Arabella Figg's house, just don't make him go on this trip. 'But nooooo,' Harry thought bitterly. 'He just had to go and have already bought the airplane tickets and couldn't return any and he was not wasting £200 just so Harry could go visit his "freaky little friends. And why in the world was he offering to stay at Arrabella Figg's house?"'

Vernon Dursley had gotten a bit smarter over Harry's fifth year at Hogwarts and had done all deals for his company during the Hogwarts school year. One of them had gone off perfectly, and Vernon fulfilled his promise of getting a vacation home in Majorca that he had made before Harry's second year at Hogwarts.

Harry sighed. There was no use in thinking about it now. At least he had been able to sneak his wand past security. With nothing better to do, he tuned in to the argument the girl in front of him was having with her mother.

"Mum!" the girl groaned. "You know I hate airplanes! Why did you make me come this way?"

"Varisha Amelia Karson! Eef I told you vonce I told you a thousand times! Zere vas no vay zat I vas going to let you ride zat eensane lightningbolt or vatever you call eet all zee vay to zee Island of Majorca and back!" The girl's mother spoke with a French accent.

"Oh mum you are such a muggle!" Harry's ears perked at the word 'muggle.' "And it's a firebolt, not a lightningbolt. Mum, it's the best broom on the market; you've never even ridden it-"

"-And I never vill! I regret even buying eet for you! Furthermore, eef you call me a muggle vone more time, I vill confiskate zat eensane contraption of yours immediately! Now, I vant no more talk of how you hate airplanes! I am trying to sleep!"

The girl huffed and turned over to look out the window. Harry decided to talk to her.

"I'm a wizard too, you know," he said in a low voice, as not to wake the snoring old man beside him (the Dursleys were up in first class). "What school do you go to?"

The girl continued to stare out the window. Finally, she sighed. "Beauxbatons. Let me guess: your parents are both muggle-born wizards, one went to Hogwarts and the other to Beauxbaxtons, met, got married, and had you. Since your mom went to Beauxbatons, she wanted you to go there, even though you also got accepted to Hogwarts and wanted to go there instead. Now you have to ride on this damn airplane because your mother had a traumatic experience on a broom when she was eleven and hasn't ridden one since and wouldn't let you ride your Firebolt that she got you for your birthday. Am I right?"

Harry blinked. "Umm... Not quite. I go to Hogwarts. But I do have a Firebolt!"

"Really? You go to Hogwarts? Wow! What was that Umbridge lady like? She sounded horrendous."

"She was."

The girl giggled. "She looked like a toad in her picture in The Daily Prophet."

"Yeah. She looked like that in real life, too. She was evil." Harry began telling her about the things Umbridge did.

"You didn't use your wands in Defense Against the Dark Arts once the whole year? But what about your O.W.L.s?"

"Well, my friends and I made this thing called The Defense Association, but we called it Dumbledore's Army and D.A. for short."

"Oh! After the headmaster! But where did you practice? And who taught it?"

"Well, when my friend Hermione Granger came up with the idea for the D.A., she said I should teach it because I was really good at Defense Againsy the Dark Arts class and I had gotten lots of practice in the real world." The girl looked like she was about to ask exactly what kind of practice, but Harry hurried to continue. "So I finally agreed to, and so I taught about twenty-eight people different jinxes, curses, hexes, and defensive spells that I had learned."

"That's neat! But where did you practice?"

"See, at Hogwarts there's this room that the house elves call the Come anp Go Room, or the Room of Requirement. It's this room that only appears when you really need it, and will have everything that you need inside it. For the D.A., there were cushions and shelves of books on hexes and curses and things like that, and at the back there were a bunch of different dark detectors."

"Really? I'll have to ask the house elves if there's one at Beauxbatons."

"Yeah. But then someone told Umbridge."

"No!" she exclaimed. "Who was it?"

"This girl whose mum works for the ministry. But we knew it was her because at the first meeting Hermione had everyone sign this piece of parchment that she had cursed so that if anyone sniched on us they would get these huge purple pimples spelling out the word 'sneak' on their face in big letters. Hermione's really smart," Harry explained.

The girls' eyes widened, impressed, then narrowed. "This Hermione and you aren't really...ya know... close, or anything, are you?" she asked suspiciously.

"What? Oh! No! No no no no no! No, we're just friends! Really! See, at Halloween our first year at Hogwarts, my friend Ron Weasley and I saved her from this troll that our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who had Voldemort - oh, sorry! I mean, that had You-Know-Who stuck in the back of his head, long story, and Hermione has been friends with Ron and me since! But anyway, let me tell you about detention with Umbridge..." Harry told her about the black quill and how he had to 'write lines.'

She gasped. "That's horrible! I can't believe she made you do that! What a sick, twisted, evil, horrible old hag!"

"Yeah, but listen to what we did to her..." Harry told her about Umbridge's 'run-in' with the centaurs. By the end, the girl had tears of laughter streaming down her face. Harry smiled. He liked this girl. Suddenly, his stomach gave a jolt.

"Don't talk to me," he said quickly. Seeing the confused and slightly hurt look on the girls face, he added, "We're landing." The girls' eyes widened and she quickly turned around in her seat, gripping the armrests very tightly.

After 10 minutes of stomachs dropping and varying amounts of discomfort, they were on the ground and getting off the plane.

"Hey, how long are you going to be in Majorca?" Harry asked the girl.

"Two weeks. Why?"

"Well that's good, because then we might be on the same flight back to London."

"Oh!" She realized what Harry had just said.

"You! Come on, we've got to get our luggage," Uncle Vernon snarled at Harry. Lowering his voice, he added, "You did tell that ruddy owl of yours to come so you can write to your - friends - didn't you? Because that - man - said he would check on you if he didn't hear from you for three days strait. Now let's go!"

The girl looked shocked, as though she couldn't believe someone could be that unpleasant. 'Sort of the same reaction Hermione had when she first met the Dursleys,' thought Harry. She quickly recovered however, and yelled at Harry's retreating back.

"Wait! My name's Varisha! What's yours?"

"It's Harry! Harry Potter!" Harry grinned at Varisha's dumbfounded face and ran off to catch up with the Dursleys.

****Varisha's POV*****

'What a horrible man! How can he stand living with him? That boy was nice. What was his name again? Wait... he never told me his name! Quick! Get it before he leaves!'

"Wait! M name's Varisha! What's yours?" she yelled before he could disappear into the crowd.

"Oh! It's Harry! Harry Potter!" Grinning, the boy turned and ran to catch up with his family.

Varisha couldn't believe it. She had just talked with Harry Potter for 3 hours and hadn't noticed.

'How stupid am I?' she thought. 'I stare at his face for 3 hours and don't notice his scar, his black hair and green eyes? Well I noticed his black hair and green eyes-'

Such nice green eyes, said a voice in her head.

'Shut up brain! But anyway, I noticed his hair and eyes, but not his scar. Why not? Oh yeah. His hair was covering it. Maybe he didn't want me to see it,' she thought. 'Maybe he's so sick of people gaping at his scar and treating him like some big hero that he thought that if he didn't tell me, then I would treat him like a regular person.' Varisha thought a bit. 'He was right,' she decided bitterly. 'And that's what he meant about getting lots of practice against the dark arts in the real world!'

"Hey, 'Risha! Let's go!" Mr. Karson called to his daughter. "We don't want to miss the train to Sóller!"

"Coming Dad!" she called. Varisha turned her eyes back to the spot where he had blended in with the teaming mass of people.

"Good bye, Harry Potter," She whispered to the boy who had disappeared into the crowd. "I hope I see you again one day."


REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!!!!!!!!! Oh! Important A/N! Because I recently discovered that people give flamers anonymously I will not be accepting anonymous reviews any more. I know I said I loved ALL reviews, including flamers, but that was before I got a flamer with the f-word in it. You know F-U-C-K? yeah. I was pretty upset. Check out the reviews on my story "It's 'Arry Potter!" to see what I mean. So sorry if you don't have a screen name and want to review. If you are logged on, want to review but hate my story, simply say that you don't care for it. That's the nice way of saying you hate it and then I will not report you. If you promise to be nice, you may email me and tell me your review. If you're not nice, I will report you. So REVIEW!

Love y'all!

Catgrl52 ^∙-∙^  ¬kitty

P.S. Spain was WONDERFUL in case you care J

P.P.S. can anyone think of a better name for my story than the one I've picked? If so, tell me and I will be eternally thankful and put you name up at every chapter thanking you and telling people to read your story even if I think it's horrible (not that I would think it's horrible. Even if I did I wouldn't tell you –well, wouldn't tell you really really meanly- that I hated it. I would just suggest a few things to make it better). But only if I like it! So please someone give me an idea! Thank you!