Harry Potter, Chaos Queen

 

Chapter One

 

Harry listened to Hermione Granger and Ron Weasely bicker in their compartment aboard the Hogwarts Express. They were headed back to the school for his final year, and the two still failed to acknowledge their feelings to one another, leading to a great deal of unresolved sexual tension. Personally, Harry found it amusing that even the most intelligent witch of their year could be so blind. 

 

Just as he had pulled out his Advanced Potions textbook, the compartment door slid open. In the doorway, illuminated by the cabin light, stood Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin Prince and personal tormentor the the boy-who-lived. His rival in everything, Malfoy failed to let their battles end, even now in seventh year, it would seem. Backed by his two henchmen, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, great hulking boys with little brains, they were heavy fist-swinging knuckle dragging types. 

Malfoy sneered at them, before smirking in superiority when they focused their attention on the pale, white blonde haired boy. "Hello, Potty. You'll never guess what I did this summer," Malfoy taunted, his cronies laughing stupidly in his wake. 

 

Harry sighed, not wishing to continue the petty arguments, but donned his clueless Boy-Wonder mask. Appearing annoyed, the fake Harry glared at Malfoy, green eyes sparking behind his glasses. "What do you want, Malfoy? I don't want to play guessing games with you, Ferret," Harry mentally flinched at the childishness of all of this. Really, weren't the getting a bit old for name-calling? 

 

Ron snarled at Malfoy, the ginger already turning red with temper as he added, "Yeah, Ferret, we don't care what poncy rich bastards do during Holiday. So bugger off, Malfoy."

 

Hermione seemed determined to ignore the battle, and resumed reading Hogwarts, A History, for what had to be the millionth time. Harry wished he could join her, but Malfoy continued on. 

"Well, I happen to want to share with those less fortunate than myself, " Draco began, dusting imaginary lint from his school robes. "This summer, as it happens, I attended concert for Chaos Queen. Not only that, I met her. She was quite taken with me, actually, and I wouldn't doubt that we'll owl frequently this year--- a witch that powerful will make quite the lovely girl for me, don't you think, Scarhead? Not that you or the band of redheads would know anything about it. I bet you've never even seen her."

 

Harry nearly choked on his spit. Malfoy was pretending he was in some sort of intimate relationship with Lokii, his alternate self?! This was just too messed up, what was happening here? 

 

Ron, however, rose to the baiting and snarled. "Oi, ferret, I bet you've never met Lokii at all! I hear she doesn't even do backstage passes, so there's no way you could've. Bullocks!" 

 

The Slytherin Prince bristled, snapping his attention from the quiet Harry to Ron. "What would you know, Weasel? Bet you can't even afford tickets," his tone was mocking, but Harry noted he didn't deny that Lokii was known for refusing audiences with fans, nor did he respond to the taunts about never meeting her. 

 

Hermione looked up from her book and snapped it closed. Her brown eyes snapped to Harry's and she sighed, "Leave it, Ron. You know how Malfoy is. Personally, I think we're all a bit old to be acting like this. And if you noticed, Harry and I don't seem to care. You shouldn't either."

With that, she found her page and stuck her nose back between the pages, disappearing into another world based off school facts. 

 

Ron's ears grew red with embarrassment, and Malfoy chose that moment to comment, "Looks like the Mudblood's got you by the balls, Weasel. Well, as for fighting, I suppose I am above it... and all of you. But you'll see that I'm right when Chaos Queen preforms at Hogwarts this year, for the Seventh Year ball." 

 

Harry chose that moment to tune in, gaping slightly at the information that he, as Lokii, should have known. "She... she's what? No, I would've heard if she's playing at Hogwarts."

 

Malfoy sneered, curling his lips in distaste at Harry, but focusing on his primary target with vigor. "What's the matter, Pothead? Got a bit of a crush on Lokii? I doubt she'll want to meet you, even if you are a pathetic version of a celebrity. Actually, I heard from my godfather while he was in his study that she'll be playing at Hogwarts. And as you know, Severus Snape is her manager."

The blonde haired boy appeared quite confident, tipping up his pointed chin in defiance to them all. His grey eyes were cold, smug in the information that he had passed on to the Gryffindors. 

 

 

"But," Harry spluttered indignantly, "But... surely I would've heard something." His brain wracked for answers, trying to recall if he'd received an Owl from Severus, or if he'd mentioned something during one of their many meetings. However, no knowledge was forthcoming, and the Boy-Wonder was left confused. He was Lokii, so why the hell didn't he know his own schedule? He'd have to speak to Severus, tonight. 

 

Malfoy growled, snorting in amusement. "Why would you be informed, Potter? It's not like you own Lokii, so back off. I'm sure she'd rather a wizard with class and taste, not someone like you." He shook his blond hair from his face, which had grown over the summer till it reached his cheekbones. Unslicked, Harry noticed it was softer, and thicker than he remembered. 

 

Harry bit back his responses, knowing they'd make him look stupid, or reveal too much. With a grumble, he shifted in his seat and refused to look at the blonde in the doorway. Malfoy, taking this as a victory, grinned savagely. "See you at Hogwarts, Gryffindorks."

 

Hermione and Ron began to bicker as soon as Malfoy left, the sweep of his robes retreating down the hallway. Hermione trying to understand why Ron couldn't simply ignore the Slytherin, and Ron demanding to know why Hermione hadn't defended herself against being called a Mudblood.

Back in the Great Hall, surrounded by students talking excitedly, Harry's eyes sought Severus' at the staff table. There, he noted Severus was in a heated debate with the returning Potion's Professor, Horace Slughorn. This year, Severus would again be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, just as he'd always wanted. 

 

Feeling eyes on his dark figure, the man turned and locked eyes with Harry. Black met Green, and Harry prodded at Severus' conscious with his own. He felt barriers shift to let him in and quickly snatched the opportunity. 

 

'Sev, what's going on? I heard that I'm supposed to play at the Seventh Year Ball, from your beloved Godson. What the hell? Why wasn't I told?' Harry's thoughts shifted in his panic, pressing urgently into the Professor's mind. 

 

Severus gave a mental sigh and offered comfort with his presence, a warmth surrounding the jumble Harry felt inside himself. 'I'm sorry, Harry. I tried to argue my way out of it with the record label, but short of hexing them or using a compel, I couldn't find a way. You weren't told because I was hoping to find an excuse. As it was, the news was just finalized today. Draco only heard the pitch.'

 

Harry pressed into the warmth of Severus' mind, needing the stability he found there. 'But Sev, I can't do it. Someone will find out, and I'm not ready for that. I just can't!'

 

Severus wrapped mental arms around the boy, rocking him as he fought not to break down. 'Shh, Harry, shh. We'll find a way and no one will be the wiser, no one will find out that Lokii and Harry Potter are one and the same. Have some faith in me, or better yet, yourself.'

 

With a last curl of comfort, Harry retracted his mind from Severus', who then proceeded to sneer at Harry and turn back to Horace for another argument about the properties of Boomslang. 

Harry slipped back into conversation with the other Gryffindors, a headache brewing from hiding behind his mask. When dinner was finally over, Harry slipped through the passages, up the many stairs and into Gryffindor tower in silence. He barely recalled the password to the Fat Lady's portrait, so lost in thought. Would it really be alright? Was Severus right? What if he was caught?

 

 

Harry slipped into his pajamas, changing in the bathroom to avoid the other boys seeing his body's change to feminine curves. The other boys in the dorm merely assumed Harry was shy, or ashamed of his scars, as Ron did. 

 

That night, Harry barely slept, wondering what this year would offer him. Praying Severus was right, Harry slipped into troubled Oblivion. Dreams of falling offstage haunted him, whispering of failure as the raven-haired boy slept. Could this be a sign, or was it merely his subconscious, fears slipping into his unguarded world.