The Potter Hour

Chapter 4: Suicide Business

Harry wandered into work the next day looking disheveled, partially because he hadn't a wink of sleep, partially because he was becoming more and more bothered on the inside, and partially because Ginny had insisted on playing concerned housewife and followed him around the house with a pot of coffee. As he reached the glass doors of Magical Airwaves, an owl swooped down and dropped a letter on his head. He muttered something inaudible as he pulled it off his head, examined the parchment, and stuffed it into his pocket.

People were foolish enough to greet him that morning. Of course, he hadn't responded to any of them as he made his way to his office, which looked nearly as disheveled as he did. The day he found out his show was to be cancelled did he take the opportunity to redecorate his office so that it looked like this: There were papers strewn on the floor, trophies in pieces, and his desk was sitting awkwardly on the roof.

A timid tap rapped on the door. Harry slowly turned to answer it.

"M-m-Mr. Potter, sir?" A nervous little witch asked.

"That's me. What do you want?"

"T-t-these c-c-came in the m-m-mail f-f-for y-y-you..."

She pulled out a large basket, full of parchment envelopes addressed to him.

"Fuck."

"E-e-excuse me, sir?"

"Um... Just put them on my desk."

"But your d-d-desk is on the r-r-roof, sir..."

"Then put it on the damned floor!"

She obeyed his command and shuffled off. Harry stared down at the basket, confused and angry. Did he have to read all of these letters? He never read fan mail in the first place. He'd had a bad experience with it in his second year at Hogwarts when forced into detention with that stupid git, Gilderoy Lockhart. The last person he'd want to become like was Lockhart.

Harry opened one letter. It was scented in peppermint perfume, and there were smears all over the heart-dotted writing.

"Dear Harry...

Don't do it! Please don't do it!!! I'm your biggest fan! I don't know how life would be like if it weren't for the greatest wizard of all time - The most handsome, the most wonderful wizard who defeated the Dark Lord Voldemort! You're so hot, and you're so talented, I watch your show like all the time (though I haven't had enough time to watch it lately if you know what I mean), but you shouldn't let the show get you down like that! I love you Harry!"

Harry felt like he would be sick, especially if all the letters were like that. He looked up to his desk, held up his wand, and cried, "Accio mead!"

~

Ron found Harry passed out on the floor with empty bottles of mead surrounding him, along with pieces of parchment. He bent over and picked up a pink colored piece of parchment, read the frantic fan letter on it and shook his head. He bent over Harry, placed his hand on his shoulder and shook him. Harry moved slightly, murmuring something that sounded like "Whadyawan."

"Get up, Harry, it's Ron! We've a meeting to go to."

"Idonwangonomeetin."

"It's important."

"So?"

"Get up, now..." Ron slid his arms under Harry's and attempted to pick him up. Harry was still skinny like he was at Hogwarts, but he was much taller. Ron got him up to the point where his knees were only a few inches away from the ground but could go no higher, and thus dragged Harry to the meeting that way.

Hermione was wide awake and full of energy, of course. She was staring at herself in a small mirror, applying make-up to her thin cheeks. The door slammed open at the request of Ron's foot, and Hermione, looking up, saw Ron backing in holding up Harry by the arms. Ron struggled to fit Harry onto a seat, as he kept sliding off as soon as Ron walked away. Eventually he left Harry halfway between being seated and on the floor and sat next to Hermione, who had an amused look of confusion on her face.

Next to slam the door open was Susan Bones, whose expression of afternoon fury hadn't decreased when she saw Harry. She rose her wand in the air, and almost swung it down to hit Harry with a spell until a tired and fat old wizard strode his way into the room.

"I suppose we're all ready, then," he said, giving a curious glance to Susan, whose red coloring was slowing beginning to fade. Ron gave Harry a quick kick on the shins, which woke him up just enough so he could slide up in the chair and pass out again on the table.

"All right, I reckon this is his problem, then. Too much mead," said the old wizard as he positioned himself not to far from where Harry's hands reached. "Got to do something about that, can't risk another suicide threat from him." He patted Harry's limp arm.

"Anything for ratings, sir." Hermione shot a hopeful glance at him

"Ratings, right. That's why we're canceling the show, of course. That, and we've no advertisers. Certainly can't keep the show on the air if we can't afford it."

He gave a long, concerned glance at Harry before he began to speak again. "Now, onto this suicide business. We certainly can't have Mr. Potter blowing his brains out on the air. No doubt it was a nice gimmick, an interesting way to boost ratings at the last minute but we know that people simply can't watch a live suicide on the air, especially when it's our Mr. Potter here."

"Well, you're just assuming he was being serious." Ron stated.

"And what if he was?" Hermione interrupted. "I think he was. We all know Harry's been in a sort of mental rut ever since he graduated from Hogwarts, maybe even before when Dumbledore died. And anyway, you guys are being far too up tight about it..."

"And you of all people are complaining being 'uptight,' Hermione?"

She gave Ron an angry glance. "...you're being far too uptight, you fail to see the opportunities that have arisen! His suicide notice was all over the news last night. People are going to tune into 'The Potter Hour' tonight just to see if there's any follow-up. You know that's what they're going to do. Stop assuming that wizards and witches aren't just as shallow as Muggles. We eat up that reality stuff, too. I say we let Harry commit suicide on the air, let him be publicly miserable for the next two weeks, and let the people love it. Let them pour out their concern, let them show their support by watching in droves. And don't forget about the advertisers, too. They'll think, oh poor Harry, he needs all the help he can get, why don't we give his show a bit more money..."

"And I say we don't," Susan shouted. "This is ridiculous... It's sadistic I tell you! Wizards do not want to watch people suffer on television, no one does! It's simply unprofessional. I say we tell this drunkard here to retract his statement so we can get rid of all this silliness." She folded her arms and nodded in a firm way. The old wizard beside her made a similar gesture, as did Ron. Hermione ignored, and stayed collectively cool and smug in their face.

"Well, I guess that settles it, then," she said. "I'll be off now."

Harry was still passed out on the table and made no sign that he had even heard any of the conversation.

To be continued...