Harry exhaled as he stared at the door in front of him. Steeling himself, he raised his hand and knocked three times quickly.
"Come on," came Professor McGonagall's voice, her customary Scottish twang quite heavy.
He opened the door, and stepped into the room to discover just what had upset his Head of House so very, very much. It was a rather large, toad dressed in a pink cardigan. She was situated on a stool off to the right, and slightly behind the Professor with small pink clipboard in her hand.
Umbridge looked up at him, and gave him a supposedly superior glare. Harry ignored her, and settled into the hard-backed chair in front of McGonagall's desk.
"Professor."
She gave him a thin lipped smile. "Good afternoon, Mr. Potter. Do you know why you're here today?"
He gave a quick shake of his head. "Nope not really."
"We're to have a discussion about your schooling post O.W.L.s, and potential career choices that are available for you."
"So, what you're saying is that our electives and O.W.L.s play a part in the jobs that we can get because they factor which N.E.W.T.S we can take?"
"That's correct."
"So, say someone takes Ancient Runes, does that mean that they have more jobs than someone that takes Muggle Studies?"
McGonagall nodded her head. "That's correct. Ancient Runes is a requirement for enchanters, curse-breakers and ward-masters."
Harry frowned for a moment. "Then why on earth is this the first I've heard about such a thing? I mean, that would have been important information back at the end of my second year when we were picking out our electives."
The professor frowned.
"Why would you not know these things?"
"How would I know these things? I was raised by my muggle-relatives."
"But your friends..."
"And I have two best friends. A muggle-born girl, and a magic-raised boy. The magic raised boy tells me that there's no real reason that the harder classes are needed. It's just reasonable to assume that the magic-raised boy knows what he's talking about."
Harry leaned back against the chair, and shifted slightly at how uncomfortable it was.
He stole a glance at the pink-toad for a moment, before focusing back on his Head of House, with a frown on his face. "On an unrelated note, why exactly is Umbridge here?"
"Please address me with the title, Professor," came the faux-girly voice.
"Professor Umbridge is correct, Mr. Potter, please address her with the proper respect."
He glance towards her for a moment, before focusing on McGonagall again. "My question stands."
Umbridge spoke up. "I'm reviewing Professor McGonagall in my status as Hogwart's Inquisitor."
He waved a hand airily. "Ah, I understand. Now, we know that I'll not be a curse-breaker or a ward-master or an enchanter, because I'm three years to late to begin the studies. What's left?"
She glanced down. "Your Defense professor last year, indicated that you would make a good Auror. That requires an EE on the Care, DADA, Potions and either Charms or Transfiguration N.E.W.T.s."
"Hem-hem."
Harry ignored her. "I'm not certain if I should be insulted or not. The man was a Death Eater in disguise. I'm not certain I'd want anyone he advocates as an auror to be one. The implication is that they're either too incompetent to be allowed to investigate crimes or on the take."
He scratched at his chin for a moment, as he stared at the ceiling. Ignoring the two professors.
"Of course, when I was accused of breaking the law last summer, no aurors came to investigate. I set off a highly defensive spell in a muggle neighborhood, and all I get is owls about being expelled. No aurors, no investigators. Makes me wonder about who 'recommended' the current crop of aurors."
A shift of his head, and he was looking out the window. A moment later, he shrugged his shoulders and was about to open his mouth to say something else, when Umbridge broke in. "Voldemort has not returned! Stop spreading your lies!"
Harry glared at her. "I didn't say a thing about the Dark Twit. I spoke of the person that taught DADA here last year. It was Barty Crouch, Jr, who was convicted for being a Death Eater, spent the year under polyjuice potion teaching all of us impressionable youth all about the Unforgivables, and then Minister had him summarily executed for escaping Askaban."
He then turned his attention back to his Head of House.
"Now, as I was saying, I think I want to be a fugitive after graduation."
"A... a fugitive?"
Harry nodded quickly. "Yup. I saw it on the telly a few years ago. This guy was accused of a crime, and was running around trying to clear his name."
"A fugitive."
Harry's smile broadened. "I think I'm off to a fairly good start. I should be able to go on the run after my O.W.L.s, when the ministry won't be able to snap my wand if I breath wrongly."
"A...fugitive..."
He turned his attention to Umbridge. "And I have to be thankful for all the help that the Ministry has given me in regards to my career goals."
He held up his hand, a finger lifted. "They've been bad-mouthing me in the press for months. Driving down my public approval ratings, and giving me that great gritty back-story. At least one above being raised in a cupboard."
He ticked off a second-finger. "They've already tried to railroad me through a trial."
A third finger. "Then they sent you here, to make sure that none of us pass our Defense O.W.L.s. I mean, an theory-only course? In our Owl year?"
He glanced away from his fingers, and gave another fatalistic shrug of the shoulders. "Well, you all get the idea."
McGonagall heaved a great sigh. "Mr. Potter, you cannot be a fugitive when you grow up."
He frowned. "But, the teachers in primary always told us that we could be anything we wanted to be when we grow up."
He watched as she closed her eyes. Her lips moved slightly. Roughly ten seconds later she opened her eyes again. "Be that as it may, one should not aspire to being a fugitive when you grow up."
He smirked at her. "So, no to the fugitive?"
"No to the fugitive," she replied, as she rubbed at one temple.
"Then a man of leisure."
Again both of the adults were staring at him.
"A man... of...leisure?"
He nodded his head quickly. "You know, a rich, globe-trotting, playboy. I mean, I recently owled the Goblins to get a bank statement, and to ask why I've not been receiving them. Apparently, Dumbledore had them all forwarded on to him. Anyways, I got my statements, and found out exactly how much money my parents left me. So, rich, globe-trotting, playboy."
For a moment, Harry thought McGonagall was going to cry. "Play... ri... but why, Mr. Potter?"
"It's not that hard a choice, Professor," he continued on cheerfully, holding up his left hand. "On the one hand, I have Magical Britain. I've almost been killed six or seven times since I rejoined the magical world, and I'm getting kind of tired of constantly dodging attempts on my life. Also, our erstwhile government, which has no compunctions regarding summary executions, is currently bad-mouthing me, and has tried at least once to convict me without any actual criminal investigations."
He held up his right hand. "On the other hand, there's Tulum, Mexico. A thriving magical community, a number of fun, ancient Mayan ruins to explore, warm weather and best of all, topless beaches that are reportedly quite popular with veela of loose morals."
He grinned brightly at the dumbstruck expressions on both their faces. "Only reason, I've not left yet, is that I don't get full access to my accounts until after O.W.L.s or I'm 17."
"But..."
To his amusement, McGonagall glanced at Umbridge for moral support.
"My Godfather thinks its a great idea. He's pledging his fortune to help. He says I'd get it when he kicks it regardless, but this way we both can have a bit of fun with it."
McGonagall's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again, and then closed once more. She again, turned and looked at Umbridge.
"Will that be all?"
Silently, his head of house nodded her head.
He stood up and dusted off the front of his pants, and gave the two professors another grin. "Great. Oh, by the way, I'll probably be taking Hermione with me when I run off to be a man of leisure. She seemed excited about the topless beaches..."
Whistling, he turned and walked out the door.