A/N: Hello all my wonderful readers! This is a very weird, silly story that I wrote when I was very tired but also on sugar overload. This is only half the story, though. If I get five (or more) reviews, I will start on the gang's reactions to Harry's new look (Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Draco, Snape, Luna, and Dumbledore are all I'm planning right now). Let me know what you think! :)
Harry walked into the brightly lit office to his doom. He was more nervous than he had ever been in his life, and that was saying a lot. He was absolutely freaking out. He could barely think, but thoughts that did manage to push their way into his mind were things like: Ron and Hermione will freak out! And what about Ginny?! What if she doesn't like me anymore?! C'mon this isn't that big a deal! Is it?! Oh, why did I come here?! What if they're all actually Death Eaters disguise? Why didn't I bring my wand?! Ahhhhh!
"Harry Potter?" called a voice from deeper inside the office. Harry took a deep breath and ran over all the reasons he came here. Quidditch will be easier. I might look better! Maybe no one will recognize me anymore and I won't be whispered about anymore! Dudley won't be able to break my glasses anymore! Ok, I can do this.
Harry took a deep breath and followed the receptionist into a small room with lots of fancy equipment. A short man was scribbling some notes on a clip board. He looked up as Harry entered the room.
"Hello Harry! I'm Dr. Frankheimer. I understand you're looking to get some contacts?"
"Yes, sir." said Harry nervously.
"Excellent! Don't look so nervous! We won't hurt you! So when's the last time you were in for an eye doctor appointment?" said the doctor brightly.
"Err," Harry said. He had had his glasses for as long as he could remember, he honestly couldn't remember any trip to the eye doctor.
"I see." said Dr. Frankheimer kindly. "In that case, why don't we take some tests to figure out your prescription?"
"Ok, why don't you come take a seat in this chair here?" the doctor gestured to a squishy looking leather chair. Harry tentatively climbed into the big chair. It was extremely comfortable. Harry smiled. This wasn't so bad. Dr. Frankheimer gave Harry a small poke.
"Sorry Harry! I just don't want you falling asleep! Let's begin! Can you take off your glasses?" Harry did so but as he removed them he heard a series of crashes from outside the closed office door. Harry jumped out of the comfy chair and quickly pushed his glasses back on. He reached for his wand before remembering it was not there. After mentally slapping himself in the face, he grabbed the first thing his hand touched (which just so happened to be a tissue box) and held it up as a weapon, preparing to fight to the death. But even his "weapon" could not prepare him for what happened next. A dark mass of people, mostly girls, burst into the room. They were all holding up a book or two and screaming. What Harry had first taken to be Death Eater robes were actually dark t-shirts saying things like, "Dumbledore's Army" and "Hogwarts Rocks!" and "Order of the Awesome Phoenix". Harry was bewildered and more than a little bit frightened by all this, and that was before these people started shoving their books at him and shouting, "Sign it! Sign it! We love you Harry!"
Harry had almost forgotten the doctor was there until he shouted in a voice that far exceeded his small stature, "Quiet! This is a private meeting between me and my patient!"
One girl, who couldn't have been more than ten, stepped to the front of the giggling and squirming mass and said, "But that's Harry Potter! We're like, his biggest fans! Can we please just get his autograph?"
The doctor's expression changed from extreme anger to complete awe as he turned on Harry, who had an utterly horrified expression plastered onto his face.
"Wait, you're the Harry Potter? Like, from the books? I didn't think you were real! I mean, when I saw your name, I thought it was just a coincidence and you had just changed your appearance to match your name and..." The formerly calm and composed doctor had transformed into one of the babbling girls standing behind him. Harry had absolutely no idea what was going on. The group blocked his way out, still pushing their books at him and screaming.
It was all too much for Harry. He took a page out Ron's book, shouting at the top of his lungs, "What the bloody hell is going on?! Shut up!" The girls plus Dr. Frankheimer shushed a little, enough for Harry to ask again in a somewhat quieter voice, "What's going on? Are you Death Eater? 'Cause I already told you guys, I will never join you!" The girls plus Dr. Frankheimer looked at each other and giggled, as if they were sharing some inside joke. Harry was totally lost, but he managed to keep a somewhat calm-ish face as he waited for someone to tell him what this was all about.
The ten-year-old girl who had spoken before stepped forward again. "We just want you to sign out books Mr. Harry Potter. Please? We're just fans, not those dirty nasty Death Eaters you fought. And beat! Yay!" She was practically bouncing off the walls in her excitement. Harry was even more confused.
"What are you talking about? I haven't beaten the Death Eaters! I'm only fifteen! How on earth could I have beaten the Death Eaters?!"
The girl giggled again, as if she knew something he didn't. "Ohhhh, he hasn't read the seventh book yet! Don't tell him what happens!" The other girls giggled and nodded in agreement. One girl, who apparently couldn't help herself blurted out, "You die!" The other girls shushed her. Harry froze. He died? Like, for real? Harry had almost died an innumerable amount of times, but he always figured that he would be alive, in the end. He decided that the girl who had made this proclamation was just off her rocker and decided not to pay her any mind.
"Fine, I'll sign your silly books if you just leave me alone!" An hour later, Harry was done signing their books, which seemed to be all about him. He decided he might have to buy some of those books later. But right now, he was going to get what he came for. The doctor stood awkwardly, ashamed of his behavior earlier.
"Do you still want contacts?" he asked unsurely.
"Yes." said Harry, now determined. "Proceed with your tests." Dr. Frankheimer nodded, relieved that the fan girl fiasco hadn't lost him a customer. Harry climbed back into the squishy chair and removed his glasses. Dr. Frankheimer showed him some letters, which Harry read to the best of his ability. It was difficult, though. Without his glasses, Harry was as good as blind. The doctor then put one of the pieces of equipment in front of Harry's eyes. It aided his eyesight considerably. Soon Dr. Frankheimer had figured out Harry's prescription. He went to the back room to get some contacts that matched Harry's prescription. Now that he was out of "danger", Harry could feel his nervousness returning. Dr. Frankheimer came back with some contacts, a case, and a bottle of something. The doctor told Harry how put the contacts in and take them out. It took Harry almost an hour, but eventually he was able to get them in and out without help. Harry took out a few Galleons to pay for the contacts, but the doctor shook his head and said, "No, Harry. I owe you for the catastrophe earlier. They're free."