Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I make no profit from writing this story.
AN: I take no credit for this crack filled idea - Blame Hali, because it's all her fault! She's the one who brought this list to my attention.
Rule #1: I will NOT sing "We're off to see The Wizard" when I am sent to the headmasters office.
May You Live In Interesting Times
Harry glanced up from his breakfast as Professor McGonagall passed by him, or rather stopped behind him.
"The Headmaster would like to see you in his office, Mr. Potter." Her expression became pinched as she arched an eyebrow. "I am sure you know the way and can find it on your own. The password is Gumdrops."
"Of course, Professor," Harry said with as innocent a smile as he could manage. It didn't work as he had hoped; the Professor's eyes narrowed even further. "I'll just … go now, then."
McGonagall gave a sharp nod and turned swiftly on her heel.
Harry sighed, eyes turning towards the eggs still left on his plate. His stomach gave a lurch in sympathy, maybe he could sneak down to the kitchens after his meeting with Dumbledore and grab something there.
He made his way out of the Great Hall, shaking off the concern of Ron and Hermione with promises to tell them everything. Why ruin their meal as well? The doors of the Great Hall slammed closed behind him, cutting off the chatter of hundreds of students crammed into one place.
Harry began his journey through the halls, humming lightly under his breath. His steps turned jaunty, an almost skip, as he moved through the halls. His hummed tune becoming slightly louder and he finally realized what he was humming. His lips twitched, and his eyes widened in slight horror before they narrowed, glancing slyly from side to side, even turning around in a circle found no one. They were likely all either still sleeping or were in the Great Hall.
Could he really do this? But the urge was just too great and his steps took an odd two step skip.
"We're off to see the wizard …"
His voice began barely louder than his hum but by the time he reached Dumbledore's office it had risen to the point of belting the lyrics out. Panting slightly, Harry stopped his song, though a slight dance continued as he requested entrance from the stone Griffin. "Gumdrops."
The Griffin leaped to the side, stairs dropping down in its wake. Harry moved to make the last short leg of his journey when there was an explosion of sound behind him–clapping and hollering and, if he wasn't mistaken, a few cat calls and wolf whistles were being thrown in for good measure.
A blush stained his cheeks as he turned around. There, on the opposite side of the wall, was a large scenery portrait that was now filled to near breaking point with painted faces.
Oh Merlin, he'd forgotten about the portraits when he had checked for possible witnesses. A strangled groan escaped his lips as he moved hurriedly up the fully lowered stairs.
The vague thought to burn that portrait came to him; he was sure he could get them all if he was quick enough, but he was also sure that there were ten more witnesses already being gossips. The news of his impromptu performance was probably already reaching the Great Hall right this second. The Pureblood children might not understand but the Muggle raised would be only too happy to explain it to any who would listen.
In other words, Harry was doomed.
"A magnificent rendition if I ever heard one, my boy." Dumbledore might look as composed as ever, fingers steeped before a placid smile as he gazed at Harry over lowered spectacles but the extra twinkle in his eyes let Harry know that the all-knowing, 'Leader of the Light' was laughing at him.
Wonderful, just bloody brilliant. He was cursed, wasn't he? Harry wondered if his parents had ever gotten Chinese and let him have the fortune cookie as a child. He knew just which fortune he had to have gotten. What was that saying again? Oh, right.
May you live in interesting times.
Did his times really have to be this 'interesting' though?