Uh. . . headache . . . not the Voldemort headaches. Those were long gone. But bad enough that I itch to make a dreamless and painless potion . . . if I had supplies.

At present, my source of this particular mammoth-sized migraine came in the form of a pink, screeching, loud, fluff ball wailing about how 'Yuki the meanie' had kicked him out of the house yet again. Apparently, the singer had tried to cook a romantic dinner but ended up destroying the kitchen.

Heck, I'm not surprised.

It's amazing how long that stoic author could stand that overly energetic ball of fluff, especially when he tries to cook.

But who the hell am I to judge? As K said, and I quote, 'Anything that sales." And I tend to agree. Living alone by yourself can create a tendency to put money on the top . . . but I digress . . . all these thoughts are not helping with my headache.

And I thought headaches would be a thing of the past too, with Voldemort gone and all. I mean, here I am, halfway around the world, starting a new life, in an unknown city using an unknown language. Hoping that this is the pain-free, memory-free, magic-free and most of all headache-free heaven I was looking for. I got the first three. The last never happened.

So, maybe heaven or haven should I say, is not as perfect as it seems. But then, I've never been to heaven . . .

"Hiro!!! How could you say that?!" Shuichi bailed at his best friend, fists punching at Hiro's chest ineffectively. "How can you say that about Yuki!!!"

His best friend looked exasperatedly into angry, puffed violet eyes. "You said Yuki is mean. I'm just restating that."

"Yuki is NOT mean!!!"

Shuichi's mind is like a box of chocolate. You never know what you're gonna get. The only thing you can be sure of is the chocolate, or in my case, a migraine the size of Jupiter. I gritted my teeth at the string of accusations coming from the middle of the room. God, I'm giving up!

I slammed both my hands onto the table. "If we're not doing anything then I'm leaving. Tell K." I stated quietly, glaring the whimpering, pink puppy. Argh . . . my head hurts.

Luckily Sakano, our overly stressed producer, was not there to stop me as I stalked out of the door, intent on swallowing at least 2 or 3 aspirins before I resumed my studies. I'm confusing you aren't I? Well, I want a high school diploma since I never really had graduated from high school technically. I had escaped from the wizarding hellhole before graduation. The muggle exams start next week and I really DON'T need a grown man sprouting tears and fainting whenever I state something as obvious and reasonable as studying. Wouldn't Herminone be surprised?

Or maybe I should rest a while before I study. Damn headache is not showing signs of leaving.

Even Voldemort doesn't give me as many headaches as them!

Heck! I had defeated Voldemort at 15! I know what evil and destruction! I've seen enough murder, torture and rape! I've seen enough to give me nightmares for the rest of my life!

And they don't give me as many problems as the pink-haired furball, Shindo Shuichi!

ARRGGHHHHH!!!

I blinked, suddenly noticed a man standing rather behind me looking rather flustered. His dark eyes looked nervously down at me.

"What?" I snarled, not in a particularly good mood at the moment. Well, I rarely am when I'm at the studio with my bandmates.

"Sorry to interrupt you, Suguru-san." He began. Drats. Did I scream out loud? Lucky the press didn't notice me having a mental breakdown. "Someone's waiting for you at the entrance hall. They say it's urgent." I could see the man backing off from my glare.

"Did they say who they are?" I snapped. The man backed off further. The Snape glare is very effective against both wizards and muggles alike.

"No Suguru-san. They merely stated they know you and that they are from the Ministry."

"Oh." I sighed mentally. Might be from the Board of Education. I knew I shouldn't have K help me enroll for the high-school diploma exams. The trigger-happy manager probably had blackmailed them and now they're suing me. This is becoming a really bad day for me.

"Thank you. I'll go meet them right now." I stared, amused at the way the man scuttled away, intimidated by a boy less than half his age. I would have smirked if I had the energy but this whole mess is turning the Jupiter-sized migraine into a milky-way-sized one.

I rubbed my temples trying to ease the thundering echoes for my own heartbeat as I strolled into the entrance hall. I really, really, really NEEDED aspirin. This is turning out to be the worse day of my existence. Wait, scratch that. Meeting with Shindo-san was the worst day of my existence.

Even thinking about him hurts!

ARRRGGGHHHHHHHH!!!

No. That silent scream was not from man driven mad by a certain pop singer, but a man who suddenly found that he was haunted by the ghosts of his past.

Mind you, I would have screamed that out loud if it weren't for Hermione and Ron both squeezing me in their arms, literally choking me to my death.

And I assure you, being shorter than both of them made me feel very uncomfortable, physically and mentally. And, spying that Hermione's hand has a rather large diamond engagement ring on, I really don't think her husband would appreciate her smothering me on her breast.

"Harry! Thank God you're still alive!" Hermione squealed, attracting attention from all four corners of the room.

I struggled out of their crushing embrace and glared at them. Ron, his flaming red hair and now six feet four frame, towered over me, his eyes shone with relief and anger. The same look reflected in Hermione's brown eyes as her

eyebrows furrowed to a shape somewhat akin to Prof. McGonagall's severe look. "Do you know how worried everyone is Harry? How can you just leave like that with no letter for two whole years?!"

I quickly decided the best way out of this unwilling confrontation. "Who's Harry? Who the hell are you?"

 

TBC