80 Chapter 80: Twisted!
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"Aren't you going to argue with me about how not-gay you are?"
"Unlike you," Loki said, "I'm secure enough in my heterosexuality that I don't have to argue about it every time someone speaks about it."
"Hey! I just like arguing!" Harry said. "I'll have you know that I actually hate gays, just like I hate all other immoral things—it's all part of being a god, you see; I have to turn them to pillars of salt and crucify them and so on, just like it says to do in the Bible." He paused. "Do you think Jesus was a wizard? I already pulled off the walking-on-water thing, except with running."
Loki sighed and shimmered out of existence.
"Fine, I sound a bit crazy anyway." He turned to the naked half-Veela beside him. "Am I crazy?"
She didn't respond. Probably because Harry had Stunned her for talking too much.
Harry frowned. "Perhaps I am crazy," he said. "Should I see a therapist? What would I be diagnosed with?"
'Everything.'
For a moment, Harry considered protesting, but then shrugged. "Not everything—maybe nearly everything." He paused. "Yeah, antisocial personality disorder, narcissistic personality disorder, psychopathy, schizophrenia, bipolar disorder—do you count as another personality?"
'I like to think of myself as an independent being, personally.'
"Don't we all, Loki? Don't we all?" Harry stood from his bed, yawning, and strolled across the room. He flung the closet open and searched through, deciding that a toga of bed sheets probably wouldn't be formal enough to wear; people tended to be rather prudish about such things.
As an afterthought, Harry awoke the half-Veela that he had brought home after Marco's party last night. Marco had probably hired her to seduce him—probably so that he wouldn't attempt to sleep with Maria, or something, or as a reward. Harry didn't really care.
She blinked blearily. "What happened?"
"After our amazing sex, you were talking too much, and I was tired, so I Stunned you."
She stared at him, mouth wide open.
"Yes, yes, I know that I'm amazingly attractive." He winked at her. "Now, you're going to tell everyone you know that I was amazing in bed, a completely selfless lover and that I definitely didn't break any of your bones accidentally." He walked over to the door and flung it open, then looked back, flashing her a grin. "Or else."
With that, he slammed the door behind him and practically bounced down the stairs. He had dealt with Voldemort yesterday, and so he was in a good mood.
Harry moved through his apartment—he did actually have one, even if he normally stay elsewhere when he was in Italy—and into his dining room, and then promptly remembered that he would have to make any food himself and it, therefore, wasn't worth the effort. And thus the reason he preferred to stay with the Aureliuses.
'How did you manage to become so lazy?'
'You raised me; it's your fault.'
Loki sighed woefully. 'I have failed as a parent.'
'I'm sorry, but you can't be my parent, despite what I told Dumbledore' Harry said. 'I need to remain an orphan; girls dig that stuff and people can blame my rude arrogance—not that it's arrogance seeing as I'm actually better than everyone else—on it.'
'Woe is me.' Loki sighed dramatically again. 'However shall I live with the knowledge that you, the only person I have talked to in a decade, would choose being an orphan over me?'
'Just don't cry or I'll have to laugh at you.'
After a few moments considering what to do, Harry decided that it would be best to go to Hogwarts, to get breakfast, and settle both of the matters he sought to talk to Dumbledore about.
He couldn't apparate there, and hated doing that anyway. Luckily, Dumbledore had deigned to give him a Portkey "for emergencies." What matter could be graver than Harry being too lazy to cook anything and wanting to check what state his reputation was in?
He fished the Portkey out of his pocket. It was in the shape of an actual key. Harry took a brief moment to wonder what it might unlock before saying, "Sherbet lemons."
What could've only been seconds later, but felt like an eternity, he returned to reality, standing just outside Hogwarts' wardline. After glancing to Hogsmeade in the distance, he moved towards Hogwarts instead—they would still be serving breakfast at this hour.
The front door was unlocked, much to his disappointment. He had been looking forward to dramatically kicking or blasting it open. Instead he walked through like a normal person, and walked down the corridor, also like a normal person.
When he reached the Great Hall, he threw the doors open with superhuman strength. They crashed against the walls, not killing or seriously injuring anyone, and successfully drawing everyone's attention.
"Lord Voldemort is dead!" he bellowed. "Slain by my hand!"
No one moved. Everything was silent.
Harry scratched his head awkwardly. "Dumbledore's already told you, then?" He stared around the room; there were noticeably fewer people than usual. "Has everyone already left because of the national holiday in my name?"
Dumbledore coughed awkwardly from the end of the room. "The end of breakfast nears and most have already left. It may be better to discuss the other matter in private."
Harry glanced to his watch, and then remembered he didn't have one. "Of course. Feel free to applaud anyway." A girl at the Hufflepuff table began to clap but abruptly stopped when no one else joined in.
Harry winked at her before moving over to the Gryffindor table, scooping some food onto a plate, and then wandering out of the room. As he expected, it didn't take long for Dumbledore to catch up to him; the man was surprisingly quick for his age, whatever might it be.
"I am yet to tell them of Voldemort's demise. I want to speak to the Ministry and the Wizengamot before I do that," Dumbledore said. "I assume that you are here for a reason, Harry."
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