Disclaimer: I do not, nor ever will own the characters of Harry Potter. This fic is for enjoyment purposes only, not to exploit J.. Don't sue.

A/N: Not really any pairings in this, although there are hints of Harry/Cho at the end. Thats it.

EDIT - 15/05/2008: Wow, after all these years, I finally edited this so its not crapily written anymore. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy the new and improved version, which contains comprehensible sentences!

In My Pants

"DAMN IT!" Harry yelled, watching with dismay as his Knight was taken by Ron's Queen. "EVERY FRICKIN' TIME!" He cried as Ron's chess piece paraded its way along the chess board, obliterating Harry's King as it went.

"No need to shout." Ron scolded lightly, grinning at Harry.

Seamus, Dean and Neville all laughed heartily, as they watched the game of Wizard's Chess currently being played on Ron's bed - the majority of the humor coming from the fact that Harry was losing miserably.

Harry growled under his breath as he stood up and went to his own bed across the boy's dormitories, huffing irritably as he glared across the room at the group of laughing boys.

"Aw, come on Harry, don't walk out on the game!" Ron called in a whining tone as he trailed after his friend, leaving the chess pieces forgotten on his sheets. "I was winning!" The Weasley complained when he came to stand beside his friend, scowling down at him.

"It's just a game!" Harry replied defensively.

Although he would never admit it, Harry secretly couldn't stand the fact that Ron was so much better than him at chess. After all, it was through no fault of his own that Ron was a brilliant strategist, while he was just plain crap. He had never won a single game against him, ever. In fact, the times he ever won a game against anyone were few and far between.

"Yeah, a game I was winning!" Ron exclaimed, as he seated himself heavily down next to Harry on the bed, the other boys soon coming to join them.

"Yeah, Harry, that's no fun." Seamus complained playfully, grinning widely.

"Well, next time, lets play a game I actually have a chance of winning!" Harry yelled.

"Fine." Ron rolled his eyes, "What can you play?"

Harry thought for a moment. What could he play? He sucked at chess, and was just as bad at checkers. He could play snap... But they played too often already. And then it hit him, he could play Quidditch! And so could Ron. But Harry was better, which he was defiantly comfortable with, after all the times Ron had had the unfair advantage over him. He would win for sure.

"What about Quidditch?" Harry suggested innocently, looking to Ron. "We could play one on one, see who can make the most goals in a half-hour?"

Ron, and the others, seemed to think for a moment, but then nodded enthusiastically.

"Yeah! Lets play some Quidditch!" The Weasley boy exclaimed, suddenly bounding over to the trunk beside his bed, grabbing his Quidditch gear and broom, before making for the door.

'Finally!' Harry thought as he grabbed his own gear, a smile making its way across his features, 'I'll beat him at something!'

"Ok," Ron announced once they were down on the Quidditch pitch, "Seamus, you'll be our timer and score keeper."

Seamus nodded, grinning as he saluted Ron and got out his wand, casting a quick spell as he made a large clock appear next to him on the field, a score-keeper underneath.

"I'll go first as Chaser," The Weasley boy continued as he turned to Harry, "And you be keeper first, Harry. We each have half an hour to get as many goals past each other as we can." Ron smiled devilishly at Harry as he offered his hand to the other boy and stated; "May the best man win."

Harry looked at the offered hand, and grinned competitively at his friend, before they shook on it and the dark-haired youth answered, "Don't worry, I intend to."

Dean whistled and hooted in appreciation of Harry's words, and Neville joined him, before he shouted; "Now lets get started!"

"Hold on, hold on, hold on!" Cried Seamus, interrupting the cheer and pulling their shaking hands apart as he stepped between the two competing boys, "That's it?" He asked them both.

Harry and Ron fixed him with confused expressions, "What's it?" They answered in unison.

"Oh, Merlin," Seamus sighed exasperatedly, "You have to make it more interesting than that!" He informed them as though it were obvious.

"More... interesting?" Harry gave Ron a questioning look, the other boy only shrugging in response.

"Yeah!" Seamus nodded enthusiastically, "You know? Make a bet or something!"

"A... bet..." Ron repeated thoughtfully, as a smile curled its way around his face, "All right!" He exclaimed then, "Lets make a bet!"

Harry shrugged, "I haven't anything to bet for."

"How about a deal instead?" Ron supplied, "Like, if you win-"

"-You'll finally tell Hermione how you feel about her and stop being a cowardly prat about it?" Harry provided helpfully, as all the other boys nodded and smiled in agreement.

Ron blushed a deep red, "No!" He yelled with a frown.

"Aw, come on, if your so confident you can beat me, then what's the risk?" Harry smiled concedingly, elbowing Ron in the ribs suggestively.

"I'm not gonna' do it." Ron seethed. "I don't like-"

"Oh, come on!" Neville piped up then, to everyone's surprise, "Everybody knows about you two, so just get it over with and agree!"

The group of boys stared at their friend in shock, while Neville blushed, casting his eyes to stare at his feet in embarrassment after his outburst.

After a moment of surprised silence, Dean cleared his throat, and stated to his friend's aid: "Neville's right, just get it over with, mate."

Ron was highly annoyed, but confident he would win. "Fine." He finally agreed, seething at them.

All the boys seemed pleased at this, especially Harry, who knew it was Ron's worst fear to tell Hermione how he had loved her since second year. If the Weasley lost (as Harry was sure he would) then revenge for all those lost chess matches would be sweet.

"But!" Ron continued as he turned and smiled evilly at Harry, pointing a finger at the other boy condemningly, "If I win, you have to do the most embarrassing thing I can think of!"

'The most embarrassing thing he can think of?' Harry thought, 'I dunno...' But then he remembered; Quidditch was his game, and he was sure to win! Ron may be a good keeper, but as far as Harry knew, he didn't even know how to be a chaser.

So, Harry put on his most competitive smile, and replied; "Deal."

They shook hands again, more fiercely this time, and turned from each other, walking to their adjacent positions on the field.

"Let the games begin!" Yelled Seamus, as Harry and Ron stood and took hold of their brooms. "Take your places!" The Irish boy called at them, and both boys kicked off through the air to take their places above the field, Harry in front of the three goal posts, and Ron some ways in front of him, holding the Quaffle. "On my mark!" Seamus steadied them, and they both crouched low on their brooms, preparing to start their game.

"GO!" The boy below them bellowed, and they both sprang into action.

Ron raced forward, Harry dodged and bobbed in the air, attempting to protect the goals - and he immediately missed the first blow past his goal by a hands breadth, it soaring straight through the middle goal-post. Harry cursed himself as he went to retrieve it from the depths of field below them. 'Focus, Harry, focus.' He told himself.

Ron was ginning and hooting in victory from across the field. Harry's blood boiled.

"Cheap shot!" He yelled, and Ron's face dropped. Harry chucked the ball back to him and immediately poised himself.

Ron started again to dodge about, and feigned throwing the ball, which successfully confused Harry, as he missed the second ball altogether - it whistling straight through the highest goal-post.

"Another cheap shot?" Ron called across the field, the smug grin reappearing on his face.

'That's it.' Harry thought as he gritted his teeth and threw the ball over to his competitor. "Just play!" He snapped at him.

Ron took this advice, as he seemed to focus, and hit the ball for a third time, faster and stronger than before, and just as it was only a metre away from the goal post... Harry caught it.

"Yes!" Harry cried triumphantly as he caught the ball, huffing from the impact of the ball against his chest and arms, as the boys below cheered him on.

Ron frowned, but poised himself again. Harry flung the ball back at Ron with his own smug grin this time, and they continued to play. Before Ron's half hour was up, he had successfully scored 7 goals, and 8 misses, as Seamus had told them. Ron felt he had done better than usual, but Harry and Ron both knew Harry could do better.

Now it was Harry's turn, and he happily took his place in the middle of the field, as Ron came to hover in front of the goal posts.

"Ready?" Called Harry condescendingly, as he prepared to blow Ron's score out of the sky.

The redheaded boy grolwed under his breath, before he yelled in reply; "Just throw!"

Harry paced himself for a moment before speeding off, darting this way and that - throwing the ball with a good amount of speed. It whirled along, faster and faster - and landed straight in Ron's arms.

"Ha!" Ron cried in triumph, as he watched the smile drop from Harry's face.

The boys below cheered as they had done for Harry, although a few looked disappointed.

"Ok." Harry said quietly to himself, steading his broom once again as he ignored Ron's leering, "I can do this."

He poised himself, taking a deep breath. Then, with more strength, he threw the Quaffle - and as the ball twisted and turned through the air, it soon came to its stop. In Ron's arms again.

"Damn it!" Harry called in annoyance.

Ron laughed at Harry's frustration, and his own luck, as a few of the boys below laughed as well.

After another good 25 minutes of this continual bad luck for Harry, he had only scored 6 goals, and was behind Ron by 1 goal. With only 2 minutes left on the clock, he had to get this goal, if he wanted to even tie with Ron, which no doubt would incur a rematch, which Harry would gladly agree to, seeing as he knew he could do better than this!

Harry growled with annoyance as he looked across the field at his competitor. Ron smiled sweetly at him, and poised himself low on his broom in front of the goal posts.

Taking a long, deep breath - Harry prepared himself to throw, leaned forward, and raced through the air. With all the strength he could muster, he let the ball leave his fingers, and stopped just after it left, watching it zoom across the field. The Quaffle whistled through the air at an alarming speed, and the boys below gasped. The ball span faster and faster, sailing ever nearer to the goal posts - until, it missed Ron, and the goal posts altogether, and landed somewhere in the stands instead.

There was a moment's silence, until the boys heard Seamus bellow up to them;

"FOAL!" And Harry dismayed. "RON WINS!"

"YES!" Ron yelled in victory, pumping his fist into the air as he began doing laps around the field in glee.

"No way!" Harry exclaimed in utter shock, as he slowly drifted down to the pitch and dismounted. Ron had beaten him at Quidditch! The world had officially gone mad.

"Oh, yes!" Ron cried again, as he then zoomed down to the pitch to meet Harry.

"Ron wins. Games over." Dean agreed.

"Yep." Neville concluded.

"And you know what that means?" Seamus asked then, grinning at Ron.

"You lose the bet!" Ron cried in utter joy to Harry.

"No way!" Harry yelled at them, "Rematch!"

Ron shook his head without mercy, "No way mate, you lose! You lose!" The Weasley boy high-fived Seamus as he then turned back and added, "And, now you have to do the most embarrassing thing I can think of!"

Harry sighed, wanting to get it over with and end his horrible day. "Fine, what is it then?"

And with that, Ron began to think very hard about Harry's 'punishment'. Harry paled at the thought. He had no doubt Ron's sick mind would come up with something so horrible, so vile that the whole school would never forget it - and Harry would be scarred for life, arguably for the second time.

After a moment, Ron finally exclaimed with triumph; "I have it!" He announced, as he then took out his wand and waved it a bit above Harry's head, saying; "Dicoramus."

Harry raised an eyebrow at the strange-sounding spell, and asked cautiously as Ron put his wand away again; "What did you do?"

Ron grinned in reply. "You!" He informed, pointing a finger at Harry in an accusing manner, and causing Harry to jump in surprise. "Tomorrow, for the whole day, you will say 'in my pants' after every sentence you say, and in answer to every question." The redheaded boy finished, smiling at his own genius, while the other boys smiled at the possibilities of such a spell.

Harry stared at his friend for a moment, not sure he had understood.

"In... my pants?" He asked to clarify.

"Yes." Ron concluded seriously, "In my pants."

And with that, the boys left to go back to their dormitories, all thinking of what predicaments Harry could be getting himself into the next day, when the spell would take affect.

All was peaceful the following morning when Harry woke up. The dark-haired boy felt refreshed and ready for the day. That is, until Ron suddenly jumped on top of him in his bed, shaking his shoulders in apparent excitement.

"Harry!" The Weasley boy yelled down into his friends face.

"What?" Harry cried back in annoyance, mourning over the horrible way in which he had been woken up.

"Time to get up!" Ron yelled at him, smiling at him as he got off of Harry's legs. "Don't forget our bet!" He reminded the other boy, his tone cheerful.

Harry took a moment to recollect what Ron was talking about, and then groaned. He had forgotten all about it. 'Damn it.' He thought to himself, but when he spoke he said; "Yeah, yeah."

Ron merely grinned, and when Harry was dressed and ready for the day, they both left the boys dormitories and went down to the Gryffindor common room, only be greeted there by one Hermione Granger, their closest female friend.

"Hello, Harry!" She greeted the dark-haired boy.

Harry stalled a moment, before turning to look at Ron pleadingly. To which Ron just smiled, and nodded. Harry sighed, letting go a long breath, which he hadn't been aware of holding.

"Hello, Hermione..." He said slowly with his head down, refusing to look her in the eye, as he felt something strange compel him, and he added in a quick whisper, unable to help himself; "In my pants."

Hermione looked at him strangely, falling quiet, before she asked politely, "Excuse me Harry? I didn't quite catch that."

Harry looked at her apologetically as he bravely met her gaze, and said again, louder, "I said; hello, Hermione... in my pants."

She looked at him in shock, as did many other people in the Gryffindor common room that day. Before everyone started laughing, much to the damage of Harry's self-esteem. Suddenly then, Hermione took on a look of rage.

"Ron!" She yelled as she pointed a long finger accusingly at the Weasley, "What did you do to Harry?"

Ron squeaked with fear, and, without saying anything in reply, grabbed Harry by the arm, as they made quickly for the Great Hall, escaping the laughter in the hopes of having a more peaceful breakfast - though Harry was sure he could hear Ron laughing under breath the entire way.

"Hey, Harry!" Dean and Seamus called in unison as Harry and Ron came to sit down at the Gryffindor house table, seated just across from them.

The dark-haired boy simply nodded, refusing to wish anyone else a good morning that day. The other boys laughed in amusement though, obviously understanding the reason for his quiet, just as Neville also joined them.

"So," Ron spoke conversationally, "Double potions and double charms today, eh, Harry?"

The Potter boy looked at him, and then back down to his plate to stuff some breakfast in his mouth. Can't talk if you got a mouth full of food, after all. The boys continued to hassle Harry for the rest of the morning, during which he had to keep cominh up with excuses not to answer them. Finally, breakfast ended, and the group of boys made their way to their first class for the day; Charms, with Professor McGonagall - as Professor Flitwick had recently been at St Mungo's. Something to do with a bladder and no longer having one.

As the students filled into the classroom, they took their customary seats and prepared for the professor at the front of the room to begin speaking.

"Class," Professor McGonagall began tiredly, "Today we will be attempting a more advanced non-verbal spell, called the Banishing Charm - which, quite obviously, banishes things to a chosen place."

McGonagall then moved towards her desk and gathered an assortment of random items, then turning back to the class, she began placing the items in front of every student.

"Now," The Professor called when everyone had an object to banish, "Two swift movements of the wrist, like so," She demonstrated with her own wand, "Should do it. And I will need an assistant to show us how it is done."

Hermione's hand predictably shot up into the air, and she waved it about desperately.

"No, Ms. Granger, not you this time, I think." Professor McGonagall sighed and rubbed her eyes in annoyance. Hermione let her arm drop ungracefully, and she sulked in her chair.

Professor McGonagall let her eyes wonder the class for her victim, until her eyes settled on a paling Harry. "Mr. Potter," She decided then, and summoned him with a wave of her hand, "Come and show us how it is done."

Harry gulped and tried to argue, "But, Professor-"

"No 'buts', Mr. Potter!" She replied sternly as Harry then hurried over to her side with his head down. Ron, Dean and Seamus were giggling from their desks excitedly.

"Now, Mr. Potter." McGonagall spoke, smiling kindly but sternly at him, "Just think 'banish', and where you want to banish the object to, while you use the correct hand movements." She showed him the hand movements again, and then looked at him expectantly.

Harry nodded his understanding, and took a step towards the object McGonagall had placed on her desk to be banished; a large, heavy-looking book. Harry took a deep breath, and thought as strongly and clearly as he could - 'Banish', but before he had chosen a place to banish it to, Ron's curse rang through his head and said with it; 'in my pants.' And when Harry opened his eyes, as you migth have expected - right there covering his rear-end, inside his pants; was a large, heavy square.

Harry quickly grabbed the hem of his pants to keep them from falling down, as he heard the rest of the class laughing hysterically at his square arse. But Professor McGonagall, who could only see Harry's front, quickly hushed the class with a cold stare at all of them and a yell of;

"Be quiet! All of you!"

The room fell silent, except for the few still giggling quietly, as McGonagall raked a harsh glare over the class. "Anyone would think you're all a bunch of first years!" She scolded, and then turned kindly again to Harry, asking; "Now, Harry dear, where did you banish that book to?"

A few people (namely Ron, Dean and Seamus), began to laugh again, as quietly as they could. Professor McGonagall ignored them as she still looked expectantly at Harry.

Harry fought it, oh how he fought it! His face went red with the effort, but eventually, that god-forsaken curse of Ron's got the better of him, and he exclaimed, rather correctly; "In my pants!"

At that the whole class burst out with uncontrollable laughter, and Harry blushed a deep crimson that would have rivaled even a Weasley. Professor McGonagall appeared shocked at his outburst, before slowly turning her head to look at Harry's behind, and - low and behold, there was her favorite charms book, inside Harry's pants.

"Oh, my..." McGonagall murmured quietly as looked at Harry in surprise and confusion. "Harry, did you do this on purpose?" She asked him quietly, with concern, so the rest of the still laughing class wouldn't hear.

Now, Harry tried to say; 'No professor, I'm not that hopeless!' But of course, what came out was another exclamation of;

"In my pants!"

The class laughed even harder, most of the students crying from mirth. Harry looked at the floor, blushing fiercely, and feeling utterly ashamed.

Professor McGonagall decided then, with no small amount of shock and outrage, that she was thoroughly sick of this, and told Harry angrily; "All right, young man! That is quite enough! Go to Headmaster's office right now!"

Harry nodded immediatly, and with his eyes still on the ground, took the book out of his pants, and placed it on the Professor's desk again. Gathered his bag, as well as the parchment and quill back on his table, he headed for the door - the laughter of his peers following him all the way.

'Damn you, Ron.' He thought as he made his way to the Headmaster's chambers, his head swimming and face red from embarrassment.

It wasn't long until Harry stood in front of the stone gargoyle which led the way to the Headmaster's office, and he irritably muttered the password which would gain him entrance to the hidden stairway.

"Pumpkin Pasties."

The gargoyle instantly sprung to life, leaping aside and allowing him to climb the stairs that lay beyond. As the stairs turned around him, Harry cursed Ron for putting him through this. When Harry arrived at the door atop the stairs, he knocked on the customary pine finish, and waited for approval to enter.

"Come in!" The familiarly bubbly voice of Albus Dumbledore called through the door.

Harry slowly turned the knob, opening the heavy wooden door. He was not looking forward to explaining this little story to the Headmaster. As Harry stood by the door, he saw Professor Dumbledore sitting at his desk as the old man looked up to see his visitor, and a wide smile came over the Headmaster's face.

"Harry, my boy! Come in, come in."

Harry stepped inside the chamber, closing the door behind himself, feeling himself rather paranoid that someone should hear them, before he walked over to Dumbledore's desk.

"Take a seat, Harry." Dumbledore motioned to the chair positioned in front of his desk, as he quickly finished whatever he was writing on the numerous papers that littered his desktop.

Harry sat, keeping his eyes firmly trained on his hands, as the Headmaster gave Harry a concerned look through his half-moon spectacles.

"May I ask, Harry, to what I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

Harry sighed and answered; "In my pants." Before correcting himself, "I mean, I got sent up here by Professor McGonagall, sir. In my pants."

Harry blushed and continued to keep his eyes on his now wringing hands, as he waited for the professor's answer.

"I see..." Dumbledore replied after a moment of strange silence, "And why would Professor McGonagall send you to see me in the middle of class, my boy?"

Harry blushed darker, as he answered reluctantly; "In my pants." Before he continued, "Because I accidentally misplaced her charms book while performing a Banishing Charm. In my Pants."

Dumbledore appeared utterly confused for a long moment, before he asked, "You... performed a banishing charm... in your pants?" The old man's expression was filled with awe. "I must say, Harry, I am quite impressed."

Harry raised an eyebrow at the professor, as he huffed, "No," His tone was angry as he tried to put this right, "I just performed a Banishing Charm, and accidentally misplaced Professor McGonagall's charms book." And fought it, but eventually added, "In my pants."

Dumbledore looked at him questioningly, before he smiled rather dimly and answered, "I know! That is what I said, dear Harry! You performed a Banishing Charm in your pants! Pray, do tell how you did it?" The old man looked at Harry expectantly.

Harry starred at him with disbelief. He actually thought Harry had done a Banishing charm in his pants? With what, his 'wand'? 'What is he, senile? In my pants?' Harry thought, as he gave Dumbledore a look of utter annoyance.

"NO." Harry replied very slowly and clearly, his tone irritated as he illustrated every word he said with hand-gestures, "I did an ORDINARY Banishing Charm, in CHARMS CLASS today, and ACCIDENTALLY MISPLACED Professor McGonagall's CHARMS BOOK!" He near-to yelled at the old man.

And he fought it for a good few minutes, the silence of the room stretching as Dumbledore stared dumbly at Harry, the boy's face burning red, his eyes squeezed shut, before he burst out after it;


"I KNOW!" Dumbledore yelled joyfully, his hands up in the air as he jumped up from his desk, a stupid grin plastered across his face like an amused 4 year-old.

"BLOODY HELL!" Harry screamed, as he then stormed from Professor Dumbledore's office, having had quite enough of this rubbish.

"HOORAY!" Dumbledore exclaimed gleefully after him as the boy left his office. The old man stood with his arms in the air for another minute or so, before he managed to calm himself, and sat down again. "Incredibly talented boy, that one." He mumbled to himself, as he went back to his crossword puzzle.

After Harry's little episode with Dumbledore in his office, the dark-haired boy thought it best to check the time, and looked to his watch. 1:32 - He had just enough time to make it to his double potions class - his least favorite class by far. With his least favorite professor. Oh, joy.

As Harry rushed down the halls, he cursed himself for being on the opposite side of the school to the dungeons. The boy ran at full-speed, trying to remember the way as he went; turn this corner, down those steps, right here, left there, down more steps - until suddenly he came to an abrupt stop. Looking up into the face of the person he had run into, Harry paled. Draco Malfoy.

"Watch it, Potter!" Malfoy sneered at Harry in disgust, brushing himself off where the other boy had knocked him. "What's your hurry, Potter?" He sneered at the other boy then.

Harry growled under his breath in frustration. He was late for his least favorite class, with his least favorite professor, who was sure to deduct house points from him, and now he was stuck talking to his least favorite peer.

"I haven't got time for you, Malfoy!" Harry yelled angrilly, and before he knew it, he added; "In my pants!"

Malfoy stared at him, his expression overtaken with shock. "What?" The blonde boy asked with a high-pitched tone.

Harry glared heatedly at the other boy. He needed to go, and Malfoy was standing between himself and the path to the dungeons classroom.

"I said," Harry growled at him with abandon, not longer caring about the words he knew would follow his next statement. "Piss off, in my pants."

And with that he pushed Malfoy out of the way, and continued to run in the direction of his classroom. The voice of a surprised and violated Draco Malfoy yelling after him; "WHAT?"

Harry ran as fast as he could to his classroom, turning corners and skidding through hallways. Eventually he came to a door, opening it quickly, expecting to see the faces of his familiar peers, and instead gapped with surprise at the occupants of the room. It wasn't his classroom at all.

Before he could stop himself, Harry Potter yelled in at the surprised students, "Where's my class? In my pants?"

He mentally slapped himself, and immediately ran out of the classroom again, blushing deeply, and leaving many disturbed second years behind. Soon, he came to the right door, and flung it open to find his class all in their seats and watching Professor Snape, who had been previously yelling at Pavarti, but all fell silent as the eyes of the room trained on Harry instead. The dark-haired boy wasted no time, and ran to his customary seat next to Ron, just as Snape made his way over to him, crossing the distance in one great stride.

"And where, Mr. Potter," Snape sneered at Harry as he advanced on him, "May I ask, have you been?"

Harry gulped and lowered his eyes, while he answered, very quietly; "I've been with Professor Dumbledore, sir." He held his breath. 'Don't say it, don't say it...' He thought desperately to himself, 'Not to Snape!' He tried to latch his mouth shut with his teeth, covered his face with his hands - but soon, he yelled with it, "In my pants!" And immediately hit his head on the desk.

The entire classroom roared with laughter, and Snape did nothing to stop them as he stood with outrage written across his face, and he boomed at the boy; "Did you just say you had the Headmaster in you pants!"

The class continued to laugh, and Harry blushed as he looked up, bravely meeting Snape's eyes. In that moment, Harry gave up - as he decided he would just go with it. "Yes sir, in my pants."

The class laughed harder, and Ron slapped Harry on the back in his mirth. Snape looked at the class as though they had all gone mad, they were talking about molestation here! It was no laughing matter!

With a loud whack of the Potions Master's hand on Harry's desk, the room suddenly went silent again.

"5000 points from Gryffindor!" Snape schreeched in Harry's face then, as though the boy had caused him some personal offence, and turned to walk to his desk again, quickly attempting to regain his composure. "Today," He seethed at the class with more fervor than usual, "Seeing as you are all so full of energy, and quite obviously dim, you will ALL be required to make a Wit-Sharpening Potion. No doubt you will need the double period to complete it. "

The entire class moaned in annoyance, and quite a few, like Hermione, protested that it was too advanced - all of which caused Professor Snape to smile cruelly in reply.

Harry sighed as the attention of the class was once again taken away from him, and looked over the potion instructions in his text book. 'All right' He thought to himself, 'Lets just get this class over and done with. In my pants.'

He began skimming over the ingredients, and preparing them as he went; Scarab beetles, got it. Ginger roots, finely chopped, right. Armadillo bile...

'Where's the Armadillo bile?' Harry wondered as he looked around his desk in confusion, 'In my pants?' He couldn't find it anywhere. Turning to his friend instead, he asked the other boy; "Hey, Ron?" His voice was barely a whisper, as he attempted not to gain the attention of the professor again. "Do you have my Armadillo bile? In my pants?"

Ron looked at him for a moment, and before cracking a smile, and then, unable to help himself, he burst into laughter. The boy squirmed where he sat, chuckling heartily at Harry, until he rolled out of his chair and landed on the classroom floor - before continuing to roll around on the ground, laughing his arse off.

Harry seethed, 'Bastard, in my pants.' He thought scornfully.

Unfortunately, the Weasley boy's hysteria did not evade Professor Snape, as the man took the liberty of striding over to their table for the second time, before he leaned over and hissed, "Do we have a problem here, Mr. Potter?" He asked, with much emphasis on the word 'problem'.

"Yes, sir," Ron answered, getting up from the floor, pretending he had dropped a pen, though chuckles still erupted from his mouth. "Harry has a problem, tell him Harry!" The Weasley boy grinned at Harry mercilessly, amusement written all over his expression.

At this, the whole class turned to look at the scene playing out between Harry and the Professor, some of them smiling expectantly. Harry frowned at the class at large, while Snape glared holes in the boy's head as he waited for the Potter to answer him.

After another long, deep breath, Harry answered. "Sir, I seem to have misplaced my Armadillo bile." And waited a moment, hoping to hold it off - and the professor had just opened his mouth to retort, when Harry couldn't help himself, and added; "In my pants."

Snape stared at him in shock, "Excuse me?" He asked, clearly outraged.

Harry sighed, he knew he was condemning himself to a life of everlasting detention, but he couldn't help himself. "I said," He repeated, loader this time, "I seem to have misplaced my Armadillo bile, in my pants."

Snape stared at him.

Harry stared back.

The class was silent, from fear of Snape's reaction.

And after what seemed an eternity of waiting for a reply from the seething Potions Master, Snape stood point straight again, and in his shock, replied quite calmly. "Very well," And turned from the boy, muttering, "I'll just... get you some more..."

The entirely class fought back their laughter with great effort, as they watched the professor retrieve some more of the ingredient, clearly disturbed by Harry declaration. The dark-haired boy felt he had no dignity left, especially when Snape returned and Harry had muttered a "Thank you... in my pants." With both of them wincing visibly.

Before Harry had left class that day, Snape did ask him, rather politely considering all things, to return the Armadillo bile when he was 'finished with it'. Harry had blushed and ran out of the classroom without answering. Snape did not pursue him.

Ron was still cracking up when they left for dinner, after having stopped off at the common room, and as they walked the Weasely boy continued to remind Harry of the events in Potions.

"Did you see his face?" Ron asked Harry as he laughed, slapping the other boy on the back appreciatively, "He thinks your insane!" And with that, the Weasley burst out laughing yet again.

"Yeah, yeah. Ha, ha." Harry droned in response, whispering the following "In my pants." As they neared the Gryffindor table, he couldnt help noticing the many pointed looks thrown at him, and the laughter drifting from the Slytherin table.

"Just ignore them, Harry." Hermione told him sympathetically, subtly punching Ron's arm, before they sat.

"Ouch..." Ron sulked to himself.

"When does this curse wear off?" Harry asked Ron then, in a rather pleading manner.

"Tomorrow, probably." Ron answered casually.

Harry sighed. He was sick of the humiliation! This had been the worst day of his life. He had practically molested Professor McGonagall's Charms book, had discovered that Professor Dumbledore is absolutely senile, and had given Snape evidence that he was stuffing potions ingredients into his pants purely for his own enjoyment. Perfect.

And just as Harry was wallowing in his dismay, he felt someone tap his shoulder. He huffed and ignored it - probably another Slytherin come to ask him questions so that he would tell them where they could stick their inquiries - in his pants.

Sitting rigid, he ignored the presence behind him, until the person tapped his shoulder once again, and he heard a familiar voice softly ask him, "Harry?"

With surprise, he turned around. "Cho!" The boy exclaimed, 'Why did it have to be her? Oh, here it comes...' "In my pants!" He yelled after it. Ron choked next to him, spurted pumpkin juice over the table as he began to laugh all over again.

"What?" She asked with a questioning look, before continuing gently; "Listen, some people are talking about you being rather... unwell?"

Harry just bit his lip and nodded.

"Oh, Harry!" Cho then exclaimed dramatically, throwing her arms around his neck in an effort to comfort him. "I had no idea!"

Harry just hugged her back, taken aback by her strange reaction, but with a smile playing on his lips at their close proximity as she pushed herself into him.

"Had no idea of what?" Hermione asked, clearly thinking the other girl was acting ridiculously.

"Why, that he was sick of course!" Cho answered, as though it were obvious, "Everyone's talking about him having some... horrible disease." She reasoned and stroked Harry's arm, "They all say he might..." And whispered as though Harry couldn't hear her; "Die."

Harry nodded in reply to this, easily accepting her words, as he turned a puppy-dog expression on Cho and she exclaimed, "Oh, poor Harry!" And she threw her arms around him again, hugging him even tighter to her.

"That's ridiculous!" Ron exclaimed then, envious of the attention Harry was getting. "Harry's fine, there's nothing wrong with him!"

Cho chose to ignore this as she stroked Harry's hair and asked the boy, "How do you feel?"

After a moments silence Harry answered, attempting to keep up with her story of his apparent 'disease'. "Uh, not so well." And struggled not to, but soon said, "In my pants."

"Oh..." Cho replied, nodding understandly, and giving his words deep thought. "Not so good... in your pants?" She asked in clarification, as though he were a 2 year-old who was telling her he had to go potty.

Harry simply nodded slowly.

And so did Cho. Then, she smiled, winking as though they now shared a secret joke.

Harry looked confused, as Cho suddenly stood then, and announced to Ron and Hermione (and no doubt all the other Slytherins and Gryffindors listening in); "Harry does not feel very good in his pants!" Somehow keeping a straight face about her as everyone stared. Many decided in that moment that Cho Change was crazy, which was probable, considering Harry's day. Then, she turned and continued, while looking into Harry's eyes, "And I'm going to make him feel better... In his pants." Before she grabbed Harry's arm and led him out of the great hall.

Harry grinned sheepishly when he realised what she meant, and with numerous people cheering him on - others starring at him in envy and stupor - he turned and gave them all a giddy thumbs-up.

"What the hell?" Ron yelled in response, a shocked silence then falling over him.

"Oh, shut up, Ron." Hermione replied tersely, before shrugging. "Let Harry have some fun."

And with that, Dumbledore, Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall walked into the Great Hall, making their way over to the Gryffindor table. Ron and Hermione shared a questioning look, as the three professors came to stand beside them, before McGonagall spoke;

"Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger, if you could please tell Mr. Potter the next time you see him, that I would appreciate if he were to purchase for me a new Charms book."

Ron and Hermione simply sat in surprise for a moment, before they nodded in the affirmative. Shaking her head in return, Professor McGonagall walked off towards the staff table.

"And!" Professor Snape added angrily, "Tell Potter, that he has detention with me for the next three years!"

The two nodded, and he too stormed off.

"And," The headmaster added as well, "Please tell Harry that I shall be awarding him this years 'Most Creative Student' award, for his incredible Banishing Charm, which he performs inside his pants."

With a shared look of uncertainty, the two students slowly nodded again.

"Right then," Dumbledore concluded then, as he sat next to Ron in Harry's vacant seat, and joined his pupils for dinner. With many Gryffindors staring strangely at him, he asked Hermione, "Could you please pass me the casserole?"

All in all, it was a bit of a nonsense day, really.