A/N: This was an entry for the 7for7 contest. I didn't finish it so I'm posting the ones I did write. If you've read this before, feel free to ignore it.
I, Harry.
It was late Autumn and unusually cold for the time of year. The windows of the upper dormitories were encrusted with a seasonally uncharacteristic frost which clung to the edges of the panes like lingering reminders of the changing nature of the world. The minute stubs of candles flickered in their wicks casting a pale light against the fast descending break of the dawn. For Harry Potter the new day brought nothing but the pain of forcing him to face the biggest discovery of his life.
And he had to face it alone. Ron and Hermione were together at the Burrow and Harry, unable to face the heartache that situation caused him, had opted to stay at Hogwarts despite the closure of the school due to the ever-increasing threats posed by the Death Eaters and Lord Voldemort. So Harry sat in the dormitory alone after telling Kreacher to sod off and stop calling him names.
The solitude was torturous; nobody but Harry and his thoughts about recent developments in his life. Developments he could ignore no longer. The real reason his life was as it was and the web of lies spun to shield him from the truth. Yes, Harry had to face facts, to come to terms with the truth that he was, in fact, a robot. The Avada Kadavra curse hadn't failed due to any magic spell cast by his mother at all; that was just another of Albus `Liar' Dumbledore's bigger untruths. No, the curse had filed because Harry was actually made of metal. The spell had just rebounded of his shiny titanium exo-skeleton (which Lily had forgotten to cover with the Skin Layer) and hit old Voldie right between the eyes, practically killing him. It was this, more than anything, that made Harry depressed.
If that was indeed what he was really feeling. As a robot could he really feel anything? Was all his love, which the lying ex-headmaster had vaunted as his super power, just nothing more than a big concoction, or just a large partition on the hard drive where his heart should be. Was all his affection for Ron and Hermione, his hatred for Malfoy, his pity for Luna simply complex codes and programmes written into his positronic net of a brain? Harry didn't mind the chips being down, he liked a challenge, but this time the chips were down his pants and up his jumper and in his elbows. This was something he didn't like.
The last few days before Hogwarts had shut had been the hardest. The Daily Prophet had reported the story after Harry had been slashed across the face by a Diffindo spell, exposing his metal skull and the red L.E.D he had for an eye. After that he had to endure robot-related jokes for several days from those students not so afraid of him that they sprinted away from him every time he passed. Those students from muggle families regularly gave renditions of the famous robot disco dance whenever Harry passed, much to the raucous approval of the pesky Slytherins.
So all in all Harry couldn't decide which scenario he preferred. The rabble of the busy castle, tormenting and teasing him for the twenty-first reason during his stay there, of the empty halls of learning within which his own thoughts seem to ooze out of his ears and rebound off the cold walls. He prowled the halls by day but couldn't settle anywhere. The Great Hall, empty and lifeless but for the solitary table where he ate his Dobby-cooked meals, the library, robbed of its only attraction who preferred to frolic with everyone at the Burrow, and even Moaning Myrtle seemed to have abandoned the castle. Peeves was the only ghost who remained, but with no authority to annoy even his antics and ceased with the first couple of closed days.
Voldemort and his cronies were still on the prowl. Harry, after destroying the last but one horcrux, the Pillar of Storge, was planning his next move, aiming to go for the final piece of Voldemort's soul, the Tea cosy of Kettle Mount. But the mount was only visible at the last day of the full moon and that was a few days away. So Harry found himself with nothing to do except sit in the Gryffindor Common room drinking butterbeer and watching Dobby and Kreacher dance for him. Things were getting worse but Harry's bizarre life could be called anything but uneventful.
As Harry was sitting ponderously one morning, wondering whether his joints needed oiling, the portrait opened and Hermione entered. Harry was surprised to say the least but tried not to show it as Hermione crossed the room to sit with him.
"Still hiding out here, then?" she asked.
"I'm not hiding," said Harry. "I just don't feel like company. Besides, if I go outside and it rains, I might rust."
"Don't be silly," said Hermione. "Titanium doesn't rust. And that skin you have is waterproof. So you see, you have no excuse for staying inside."
"Apart from the obvious."
"Which is?"
"I'm a bloody robot," said Harry loudly. "When Gryffindor said he preferred students with good mettle I'm not sure I was what he had in mind. You can't escape this, Hermione, no matter how much you've tried."
"What does that mean, exactly?" she asked, stung.
"Exactly? It means: In an exact manner; accurately; In all respects; just: Do exactly as you please; As you say. Used to indicate agreement."
"Harry - you sound like a robot," said Hermione without thinking.
"That's because I am one!" he cried.
"But what did you mean about me trying to escape the truth," Hermione asked.
"Just that you've been avoiding me like the plague since I found out," said Harry. "You've barely spoken to me in a month."
"That's because I've been working," said Hermione. "I've been trying to find some way to help you."
"Y-you have," said Harry, his voice betraying hope. "And have you found anything?"
"I did find one thing," said Hermione tossing her hair back. "There's this guy who might help."
"Who?"
"He's called the Wizard of Ores," said Hermione. "He specialises in your kind of problem."
"There are more like me?" said Harry, astonished. "We have to see this wizard, the wonderful Wizard of Ores."
"Not today, I have to do my nails," said Hermione.
"What? I'm going around like Inspector flaming Gadget and you want to do your nails? Since when do you do nails?"
"Since I decided to model myself on Ginny, or should I say Jenny?"
Harry had forgotten the new stage name Ron's sister had given herself. She was doing the circuit as her father's assistant, who had jacked in his job at the Ministry to become a Muggle Magician. He was getting pretty good at pulling rabbits out of hats and sawing Ginny in half. She herself hoped to get noticed and be invited to join the world-famous Cirque De So-Lame.
"You're modelling yourself on her?" asked Harry. "Why, exactly?"
"To get noticed by boys," said Hermione absently. "They all seem to like air-headed, barrel-chested fangirls so I thought I'd become one. Who knows, even you might fancy me."
Harry's metal heart gave a whirl.
"But I do fancy you," said Harry. "You know that."
"I know you said that but I think you were just being nice when Ron said he was gay," said Hermione. "You thought we fancied each other and wanted to comfort me. That was sweet, sugar buns, but it isn't enough."
"How can I prove it?" said Harry. "I love you as much as a robot could love a person. Name your proof and I'll give it."
"You'll have to love me as a man, then I'll believe you," said Hermione. "The Wizard of Ores will make you human then if you still love me I'll stop all this preening and we can make you into a Philosopher's Stone, which is what this is all about."
"So I'm metal but meant to be a stone? Great. Who writes this rubbish?"
Hermione didn't answer. She was busy twirling a lock of hair in her hand and blowing large pink bubbles. Harry thought she looked very odd.
"Ah, what the heck, kiddo," said Hermione suddenly. "Let's go see the Wizard. If he can cure you maybe he can lift the Spinning Jenny curse I put on myself. By the way, does my bum look big in these robes?"
"No, it looks good," said Harry as he watched Hermione climb slowly out of the portrait hole. He turned back into the Common Room as he mounted the hole himself. "Dobby, Kreacher, you can stop dancing now."
The Wizard of Ores was the ugliest man in history and his little house stank of cabbage and sewage. Harry and Hermione entered with their noses pinched. The Wiz, as he liked to be known, was sat on a stool in the middle of the floor.
"Don't you have any seats?" asked Harry, who didn't want to sit down when invited.
"Nope," said the Wiz. "Whatcha see is whatcha get. Now, what's your little problem?"
"I'm a robot," said Harry.
"And I'm a Mary-Sue," said Hermione, flashing him a perfect white-toothed smile.
"Ok, I'll deal with yours later, that's gonna take some thinking on," said the Wiz. "Come here, fella, lets see if we can't get you right."
"Are you going to make me into a real boy?" asked Harry eagerly.
"All depends if you're of stout heart," said the Wiz. "I've had three clients like you; one was a guy called Data; the other, a man made entirely of tin who hung around with this wussy of a lion; and one poor kid whose evil parents had name him Pinnocio. They all wanted to become human too and it's like I told them, all you've got to do is want it enough. Oh, and to give me fifty Galleons and eight Sickles. The magic works for itself."
"I do want it," said Harry loudly.
"Say it like you mean it, kid," said the Wiz, counting Harry's coins into a pouch.
"I want to be a real boy! I love Hermione and I want to be a real boy!"
"You-you really do love me," said Hermione. Her demeanour had changed and she looked decidedly fidgety.
"I told you I did," said Harry. "You should believe me."
"I want to," said Hermione, who was glancing at the lock of hair twirled around her finger as if wondering why it was there. "I just don't want to get hurt. You could love me today, but who knows what tomorrow will bring."
"Darling, tomorrow is just another day," Harry crooned. He crossed to Hermione and they embraced. Weird music played somewhere behind them.
"Harry! Harry look! You arm! It's real flesh!"
"And you've lost that trashy look from your eyes!" Harry exclaimed. "Thank you, Wiz. You're the best"
"Don't thank me, just give me another Galleon. There's only 49 here," said the Wiz.
"Here, let me," said Hermione, tossing over a gold coin. "Come on, Harry lets go."
"Well where do we go know?" said Harry as they got outside.
"Second star to the right," said Hermione dreamily. "Then straight on till morning!"
And with that they skipped away into the sunset to, once again, forget about the Horcruxes and the threat against their live.
-The End- (thank goodness)
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