'"I don't know how to tell you this, mate, but you're a homicidal, insane teenager with magical powers that make Dumbledore jealous." - Seamus Finnigan.' In which Harry's mental state is discussed....
A Pointless Story in Four Parts
Part the Second - In Which Harry's 'Medication' Ritual is Discussed
Seamus Finnigan, a Monologue
Harry Potter is stark raving mad.
Don't get me wrong, he's a great guy, I love him like a brother, but he's certifiably bonkers. We all know it. After all, we share a dorm with him.
Way back in first year, it was Ron who realised it. That was to be expected, really, since at first the five of us weren't as close as we are now.
Then again, three weeks into term, Harry and Ron weren't that close either.
But it's hard to be oblivious to the insanity of the guy who keeps pouncing on you of a morning and declaring you the god of pancakes.
Yes, that is what Harry kept doing to Ron back then.
We have several theories. Neville's favourite is that ten years with the Dursleys would addle anyone's brain, and that Harry was even more susceptible to it after having seen his parents murdered when he was a baby. Ron too rather likes this theory.
Dean, on the other hand, thinks that the killing curse Voldemort tried to slaughter Harry with mixed up his mind. His theory is supported by the curse scar, of course, and the fact that the two are connected - and that Voldemort, too, is insane.
Of course, Ron also likes to point out that Dumbledore is insane as well, and that Harry probably had contact with him as a baby. Harry says that the very idea wigs him out.
I wouldn't be surprised, having met his godfathers, if he had just been dropped on his head one too many times as a baby. Apparently, that's what happened to Luna Lovegood, and she's nearly as nuts as Harry.
Speaking of the 'dogfathers', as I like to call them, Harry has his own theory. As I said, I've met Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, and I've heard the stories about the two of them, Peter Pettigrew and James Potter. And I know as well as anyone who has heard those stories that the four boys who were known as the Marauders were crazy. Not quite crazy to Harry's level, of course, but the fact is, James was his father, plus Sirius, Remus and even Peter had a large hand in raising him up until James and Lily were killed.
Ah, and of course, Lily was about as sane as her husband, so with them as parents, poor Harry never really stood a chance. Well, that's Harry's theory, anyway.
So yes, Ron Weasley was (loudly) declared god of pancakes on the Monday of our third week ever at Hogwarts. For Neville, Dean and myself, it was quite an amusing sight that morning, with Harry straddling Ron, proclaiming that his friend was a deity of foodstuffs for us all to hear, and bouncing.
It was probably a good thing that they weren't that close to Hermione back then, as she would surely have noticed that Harry was far more hyper than normal for a week or so.
We all just assumed that Harry had stashed a whole heap of sweets in his trunk and eaten them in the middle of the night, and was in the midst of riding out a massive sugar high.
Of course, it stopped being so amusing, and so easy to explain away, the next morning, when he jumped on me at five AM and yelled, as loudly as possible, that I was the evil pink bunny of the apocalypse.
Next morning, Neville became Commander Pessimism of the Blue Glowing Guy Fleet, and the morning after that, Dean was a rubber ducky.
At one point, we left Harry reading comics in the library and hared back to the dorm, sitting down on Nev's bed to discuss what the hell we were gonna do.
Several times, we almost gave in and headed for McGonagall. But we didn't.
Instead, we devised a strategy that we hoped would work, and planned to get up earlier than Harry and try it out.
I'm not going to bother mentioning what it was, because it was an utter failure.
The morning after that, as we hadn't been able to work out a second plan, Harry tried to tickle us all to death.
Now, this is where my theory on why Harry is insane comes in. While trying to work out what we could do the next morning to, for lack of better words, 'sane' our friend, we wondered why it hadn't kicked in until three weeks into term.
At the time, I didn't really have a basis for my theory, but suggested that it may be because he hadn't been exposed to magic until now, and the magic that had entered his system slowly seeped in and affected his mental process in some way.
The fact that Harry always has a few weeks after returning to Hogwarts after summer before he needs his 'medication' only lends weight to my theory, though of course we didn't have precedent to compare to back then.
It was actually Dean, the only student in the entire school who doesn't really like junk food, who came up with the idea that ended up being our saving grace.
Unlike Hermione, Dean wasn't raised by dentists who wanted to keep their daughter's teeth as perfect as possible and therefore only gave her sweets on very special occasions. Hermione, also, eats them rarely even now, but that's more habit than anything.
No, for some reason Dean just doesn't like the taste. Not even chocolate, really, though he likes the dark stuff somewhat.
But yes, Dean came up with the idea. He said that as it was like Harry was on a permanent major sugar high, maybe overwhelming his system with mass sugar would help.
At a loss for any other ideas, we pooled our sweets stash and tried it.
Lo and behold, after giving him sugar, Harry was...even less sane than before.
But, the next morning, he was almost calm as he straddled my chest and poked my nose to wake me up. He gave me this pathetically hopeful look and said, "Seamus, can I have some chocolate?"
Now, as we were nearly ready to call in the teachers, I didn't see the harm in giving him some. So I did. And he left my bed, sat on his own, quickly ate his chocolate, and then found his robes and headed to the bathroom for a shower.
I stared after him in shock. For Harry, that was positively /sane/.
I immediately woke my roommates and told them what had happened. We all decided to keep a close eye on Harry that day - not that we weren't anyway.
And to our shock, Harry was back to his sane self by the time we left for breakfast.
The next morning, instead of Harry coming to me, I went to him. I woke him up, handed him a bar of chocolate, and went back to bed for half an hour.
Again, Harry was sane by breakfast.
So that has been our routine. On the first day the insanity comes back, we give him a lot of sugar. He goes crazier, but the next morning we just give him a bit, and he's fine for the day.
That worked perfectly well...until this morning, that is.
Dean Thomas, Thoughts of Morning
We don't each have a specified day to provide the sugar. Usually we all have a few chocolate frogs or sugar quills lying around. So we scrounge up what we can the night before.
For some reason, though, we didn't do that last night.
I mean, as a general rule, we'll have the stuff in our top drawers. It's easy to grab.
But we got too cocky.
I was the first to wake up, so I checked my drawer. Nothing. I checked the rest of them. Nothing. I checked my trunk. Again, nothing.
Frantic, I woke Neville and together we searched his drawers and trunk. Nothing.
We woke Seamus and Ron, with similar results.
As quietly as possible, we checked the drawers and trunk of the still-sleeping Harry. Not a single thing containing sugar in the entire dorm room.
We were screwed.
Quickly as possible, we got dressed, not knowing what would happen that morning.
The thought of asking the girls was never really seriously considered. One day of insane Harry we could handle. Having to spill to the girls that Harry has been insane for as long as they've known him and they didn't have a clue, however, was not something we wanted to do.
When Harry woke...well. Seamus had already taken the precaution of sitting on the other boy's chest, which immediately alerted Harry that something was wrong.
Of course, as he was still half-asleep, he struggled desperately to get out from under the large weight seated comfortably atop him that was hampering his ability to breathe.
Naturally, we all jumped on the bed in order to help hold him down, instead of the more rational choice of removing Seamus, allowing Harry to get up and then explaining what had happened.
Hey, six years of sharing a dorm with Harry Potter would send anyone a little crazy!
I sat on his legs, while Ron and Neville each grabbed an arm. Seamus leaned over and slapped Harry gently. "Wake up, Har!"
Finally, Harry managed to do so. He glared up at us.
Ron, Neville and I exchanged a few glances.
Seamus just glared back.
"What are you all sitting on me for?" Harry asked, giving a pointed attempt at a wriggle that was hindered by our positions.
"We're out of sugar," Seamus told him bluntly. "Think you'll be okay for the day?"
Harry didn't get the chance to answer that one until we were already on our way to breakfast, as that was when Hermione cleared her throat from the door.
Now, Nev, Ron and I could see how very easily this situation could be misinterpreted, so we leapt off Harry and onto the floor. The hard floor...I think I have a bruise.
Seamus, however, either didn't realise or didn't care, and stayed where he was.
"What - "
Neville clapped his hand over her mouth and shook his head warningly before removing it, walking past her and heading for the Common Room.
Ron and I shrugged and followed, as did Hermione.
We left Seamus to make sure Harry got dressed and to find all our bags (in which we'd put our books last night, thankfully) and escorted the dumbfounded Hermione to the Common Room, where she soon broke under the pressure.
"Are you going to explain? I don't get it, what the hell were you all doing? Are Harry and Seamus even coming down? What the fuck is going on?"
Seamus and Harry joined us then, and managed to calm 'Mione down. Of course, this meant that after six years we now had to spill to the girls, but we always knew that would have to happen someday.
Oliver Wood, on Quidditch and Madness
I'll be the first to admit that I'm not exactly the most stable student of Hogwarts, graduated or not. I'm obsessive, manic, and I get depressed over a loss far too easily.
It makes me wonder, though.
Think about it.
We all know that the Weasley twins are nuts. They'd have to be to come up with some of the things they do, not to mention their years of creating these things right under the disapproving nose of Molly Weasley. Add in the fact that they spent the majority of their adolescence holed up in their room inhaling god knows what kinds of potion fumes, and really, you can't dispute it. And not that I actually need to add more to prove their insanity, just consider how many Bludgers they've no doubt been hit by.
People could disagree with my reasoning here, of course. Mention that my Chasers, Katie, Alicia and Angelina, are as sane as sane can be.
Yeah, sure they are.
Angelina, as Harry told me in his fifth year, was pretty much channelling my own spirit when it came to captaining the team. A healthy mindset this does not indicate. And she's dating Fred Weasley. Yep, definitely bonkers.
What about Alicia and Katie, you ask? Again, mentioning Bludgers to the head. Quaffles to the head. And the fact that those three can practically read each other's minds. Sharing of insanity, anyone?
Charlie Weasley. He works with /dragons/. Do I need to elaborate here? I think not.
Now let's look at the game itself. Quidditch. Nine letters, six hoops, four balls, two bats and fourteen players. It really isn't the safest of sports, being that it's played up to one hundred feet in the air (at least!) on high-speed brooms, with two balls designed to bludgeon the players.
It's a well-known fact that the Seeker tends to get injured the most. This is partially because the other team's Beaters will try to hit the Bludgers at the opposing Seeker to disable them, and partially because the Seeker is usually of small build and more prone to injury.
As a Keeper, I'm regularly hit with Bludgers so the other teams can score, not to mention the Quaffles that I've saved with my head.
I did have a reason for going off on this tangent on Quidditch and insanity.
I think they're connected.
No, not that all Quidditch players are predisposed to end up mad, although that's a good theory if mine is bunk.
I think that Quidditch attracts the unstable element of the wizarding world.
Percy Weasley, Lamentations of a Brother
Bill and Charlie got their good marks without even needing to study much, you know. And it's a hard thing to live up to. Why did you think I was such an uptight bastard? Studying 24/7, that's why. And so I managed to be Head Boy, and get 12 OWLS.
Fred and George never tried; they had their futures planned since they were in the cradle, no doubt.
Ginny, of course, was not only the girl, but the baby. Plus, she was quite good at Quidditch and kept up decent marks - at least after the issue with the diary and possession was resolved.
It was always going to be hard for Ron. He's the youngest brother of six, he's not a Quidditch ace like Charlie (or the twins, for that matter), and he just doesn't have the self-discipline to study the way I did. So what could he do?
I began to worry when he became friends with Harry. I brought it up immediately with Oliver - oh come on, surely you don't think that you can't get to know someone very, very well when you share a room with them for seven damn years?
We're complete opposites, but we're best friends as well.
Oliver agreed with my observation that Ron might just be befriending Harry for the fame. And although I didn't really know the kid, I wouldn't wish that on anyone, let alone Harry - he was just so damn polite!
About three weeks into their first year, Harry started acting very strange. And then, about a week later, he stopped.
And after that, those five boys seemed so much closer. It was certainly a relief to me.
Mum sort of adopted Harry, which makes him one of us. We've all said it, to his face, even. He gets embarrassed, but I can tell he's pleased.
I guess I'm just glad that, despite the fact that at least half of my siblings - blood kin and otherwise - are insane, none of them are getting into anything that they shouldn't be. Like the Death Eaters.
Oliver is convinced that Quidditch is the sport of insane people. I don't doubt him, actually. Not knowing my family like I do. Not to mention Oliver himself...
Cedric Diggory, Because Even the Dead Have an Opinion
I never payed that much attention to Harry, you know? Not until the Tournament, anyway. I mean, I always knew who he was. Hell, everyone knew who the poor kid was. But I never payed attention to /him/.
But now, I spend a lot of time watching over him. I figure he needs a guardian angel, even if there's nothing I can do to help him whatsoever. If nothing else, it makes me feel better - and I know that Lily and James appreciate that I watch him when they can't.
So I found out exactly how Ron, Seamus, Neville and Dean dealt with his insanity. About the sugar. About the way they joke around, calling it medicine. Apparently, they had a real laugh about it in their third year, my sixth, when chocolate was being used to help against the Dementors. I can imagine so; especially with the way Pomfrey was practically shoving it down Harry's throat. A real mother hen, that one.
It's a confusing thing, really. Harry's insanity, I mean. I don't know how to explain it. I don't think anyone knows how to explain it. Dumbledore is nuts, but everyone knows that. And he doesn't need a daily dose of sugar, although he generally does so anyway. But it's not helping him/. I think the barmy old codger is /way too far gone for that. Hell, he held the freaking Triwizard Tournament. Enough said. It got me /killed/.
Yes, I am a little bitter. Get over it.
I'd like to think that if I'd survived, Harry and I would have been closer afterwards. I've always wanted a younger brother, though not full time - I know the Weasleys too well for /that/, and I know the sort of things Gred and Forge do to Percy, Charlie and Bill.
And hey, there's nothing wrong with an insane sibling.
Although, I just hope he's over Cho Chang. He seems to be, but...well, sometimes you can never tell.
You'd think I would want them to be happy together, and if I thought it would be possible, I would.
But Cho...well. She's quite possibly the most self-centred person on the entire planet. And Harry.../isn't/.
So hopefully, he'll find the woman, or man, of his dreams someday. But who knows? Certainly not me.