Hello! This may end up being a multi-chaptered story, depending upon the response. So if you want to see Harry getting up to some other drunken shenanigans, leave suggestions in a comment, and I'll see what I can do. Vivy out!
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and all rights go to JK.
The day Harry Potter decided the House Elves were starting a rebellion was truly one to remember.
Harry was popping down to the kitchen for a glass of 'water' when- low and behold!- a whispered conversation! We know from various written sources that our Mr Potter simply cannot resist a situation in which he really should keep his nose out. What else was he to do but listen?
There, huddled outside the fabled painting of the fruit basket, the entrance to the working place of the House Elves… were two House Elves.
'Suspicious,' Harry thought.
He could only catch bits of their conversation, but once he'd heard the words "supply," "pudding" and "gone" used in the same high-pitched sentence, it was all the confirmation he needed.
Grabbing one of the House Elves roughly by the pillowcase, he sprinted through the castle. He raced past loudly-exclaiming portraits, shoving over suits of armour and jumped through windows until, finally, he reached his goal.
Harry threw open the huge heavy doors to the Great Hall, ran in, and spread his arms wide, declaring "THE GREAT HOUSE ELF REBELLION HAS BEGUN! HIDE YOUR TREACLE TART!"
Hermione sighed and placed her head in her hands, muttering, "He's at it again."
Ron nervously slipped a few chicken legs into his robes and gulped down the mouthful he'd been chewing.
Professor McGonagall got to her feet and glared down at the Boy Who Lived. "Mr Potter, what is the meaning of this disruption? This is a school, not a barnyard!"
Harry narrowed his eyes and took a few steps forward, his very presence making the entire school quake in their wizarding boots. "This isn't a school, madam, if you even are a madam." (McGonagall looked severely affronted) "This is a plot! A ploy! A well-hidden base, for the House Elf rebellion!"
Whispers consumed the Great Hall, and Draco Malfoy could be heard sneering loudly, "I always knew it was true. This is what happens when you mix lower life forms and good, pureblooded wizards. It'll be the mudbloods next, you'll see!"
Hermione stood up sharply, snapping, "Shut up Malfoy, you great ferret."
Malfoy's pale cheeks coloured with embarrassed fury. He sunk under the table to the raucous laughter of his Housemates and the rest of the school.
Hermione cautiously took a few steps towards Harry, and the room quickly hushed. The smartest witch in the school raised her hands, as if handling a wild animal. It was probably the best decision, all things considered.
"Harry," she began. "You've been drinking again, haven't you?"
"No," he murmured stubbornly, slurring slightly.
"Maybe a little."
She raised her eyebrows.
"Fine. A lot." he admitted bitterly.
"Drinking?!" McGonagall shrieked, breaking out of her haze (that boy had insulted her Professorship!). "He's sixteen."
Hermione shot her a glare. "He's under a lot of pressure. What with Voldemort-"
"VOLDEMORT!?" Harry yelled.
Hermione shushed him. "-He has to find ways to cope. But Harry, you need to understand: this is all your imagination. There is no House Elf Rebellion, and if there was I'd be running it!"
"But I have proof!" he claimed.
"Indeed!" Harry grinned maniacally and produced the House Elf he'd grabbed, from behind his back. "Meet their insane leader-" he looked questioningly at the creature.
"T-taggy, s-s-sir," it stammered.
"Taggy!" Harry finished triumphantly and threw it to the ground.
"Harry!" Hermione screeched furiously. "You can't do that! That's elf cruelty! Precisely the kind of thing SPEW fights again! The organisation that you are Secretary of!"
"Spew?" Malfoy sniggered, reappearing again. "Do they throw up every time they see your ugly mug, Granger?"
"Shut up Malfoy!" Ron piped out, ears reddening with rage.
"Oo, Weasel, I'm so scared-"
"Shut it blondie," Hermione growled, eyes flashing.
Malfoy squeaked and dived back under the table.
"You can't treat House Elves this way, Harry," Hermione protested, refocusing her energies back on her drunken friend. "They're people too. Well, not strictly speaking, but-"
"These House Elves aren't people, Hermione!" Harry assured her, giving Taggy a vicious glare. "They're evil little buggers."
"What will they do Harry?" Neville asked, and looked uncomfortable when all eyes turned to him.
Harry took centre-stage. "I'll tell you what they will do. They will steal your treacle tarts and various other confectionaries. And they will wait for you to grow up, taking pleasure in your joyless childhood. And then they will steal your children, turn them into puddings and EAT THEM!"
The Hufflepuff table screamed and ran from the room.
Harry passed out, collapsing like a marionette with its strings cut, straight onto the cold stone floor.
Hermione rolled her eyes and placed Harry's arm around her shoulder, dragging his unconscious body to its feet. "Come on Harry. Let's get you sobered up."
There was a moment of stunned silence. It didn't last long.
"MR POTTER!" McGonagall was furious. "YOU GET BACK HERE!"
"I'll bring him to you as soon as he can walk straight, Professor!" Hermione answered, already walking up the staircase.
"NO YOU GET BACK HERE RIGHT NOW! HEADMASTER! DO SOMETHING!"
"I'm sorry Minerva, I can't hear you," Dumbledore replied cheerfully. "I suddenly find myself under the thrall of dear Taggy here, and this delicious lemon sorbet."
"POTTER! POTTER! POTTER!"
The long shadow of the House Elf rebellion hung over Harry and his friends for weeks.
Whenever a new dish appeared on the oak table, accompanied with a faint 'pop!', everyone would glance at Harry nervously. However Harry merely shot the food an interrogating gaze and reluctantly dumped a spoonful onto his plate, taking a swig from his 'special cup'. Hermione wasn't sure how, but Harry had somehow forced the House Elves to supply him alcohol with every meal. Probably scared the poor things into it. But it somewhat satisfied Harry, so she didn't ask. It was probably better they were illegally supplying a minor with alcohol than dead in an elf-sized ditch somewhere. It was a morbid thought.
"I'm worried about him, Mione." Ron muttered, shooting his friend a worried look. Harry was currently scribbling on a piece of parchment furiously with a slightly-chewed quill, a frown of concentration on his face. Hermione ignored the violent shaking of his hand.
Hermione tucked into her meal, chewing calmly. "I was too, at first, but he's promised he'll go to meetings in the summer."
"And you believed him?" Ron asked incredulously.
"Of course not," Hermione scoffed. "But he won't have a choice. Besides, this is working much better than the other method."
"…The other method?"
"Calming drafts, slipped into his pumpkin juice." Hermione shrugged. "And some Lorazepam."
"Drugs!" Ron exclaimed incredulously.
"Shhh!" Hermione whispered. "He'll hear you."
They glanced at Harry, who was oblivious to the world around him, save the amber liquid clutched tightly in his hand.
"Or maybe not," Hermione shrugged.
"Aren't you supposed to be the responsible one here?" Ron grumbled.
Hermione sighed, and slipped a bundle of leaflets across the table. Ron picked them up and examined them incredulously, reading the 'SO YOU'RE AN ALCOHOLIC' emblazoned across the top.
Hermione smirked. "See? I'm dealing with it. Once he gets too out of hand, I'll step in. But it's fine, I mean: how bad can it get?"
Ron was the one wearing the smirk when the pair next walked into the Great Hall. And it was extremely clear why.
The tables had been pushed back to either side of the room, and every single one was overflowing with treacle tarts and various other desserts of all descriptions. The rest of the Hall was filled with students engaging in swordfights. All had shed their school robes and ties, so the only way to distinguish them were the various animal noises emerging from their mouths. Roars from the Gryffindors, caws from the Ravenclaws, hisses from the Slytherins, and… bellows of rage-filled war from the Hufflepuffs? And at the centre of it all; a knight dressed wholly in dull armour and… Harry.
"No," the Boy Who Lived scolded. "You need to lunge low and then parry to the right. If you don't, those sneaky little buggers will stab you right under your arm and steal your pudding. Again!"
Hermione couldn't believe it.
"'How bad can it get', huh?" Ron sniggered. Hermione slapped the back of his head.
"HARRY POTTER!" she shrieked, marching towards her friend, face red with fury. "What is the meaning of this?!"
"Hey Mione," Harry grinned, resting the flat of his sword on his shoulder. "We're getting ready for the House Elf rebellion. The time has come!"
Hermione rested the back of her hand on his forehead, feeling the hot and sweatiness of his brow. "You're ill," she moaned. "And-" she coughed as she inhaled. "How much have you been drinking?"
"A bit," Harry mumbled.
Hermione narrowed her eyes. "This has gone too far. You are getting help. I thought this was just a coping method, but it's a full blown addiction now, and it's affecting your life!"
Harry gave her a smug look. "And how am I going to get this 'help' from inside Hogwarts?"
"You'll- you'll-" Hermione struggled for words. "In the summer," she hissed. "And who is stupid enough to help you?" Hermione wrenched off the helmet of the knight Harry had been fighting, to reveal the face of…
"Sorry!" Neville yelped. "He threatened Trevor!"
Hermione turned back on Harry, an expression of disbelief plastered across her face. "You threatened his pet?"
Hermione grabbed handfuls of her hair and tugged. "Argh! I can't believe I just let you- I shouldn't have been so naïve- I was stupid- drugs-!"
A whimpered "…Mistress?" caught her attention, and she let her eyes flicker towards the back of the hall. There; lines of House Elves held in manacles and covered with splattering's of ice cream caught her attention.
"Mistress, it's cold," Taggy whined.
"Of course you did." Hermione shook her head.
"I always knew Potter was crazy." Draco remarked.
"Shut up ferret!" Hermione snarled.
It was at that moment that Albus Dumbledore strolled in casually, followed by a horrified McGonagall. "Ah, Mr Potter! I see you've put your excellent leadership skills to good use. Unfortunately I must commandeer the Great Hall for the staff book club, and our dear Taggy here makes the most excellent of lemon teas."
Harry bowed respectfully, and fell flat on his nose. "Of course," he mumbled against the cold stone floor.
"Miss Granger, would you be so kind as to help Mr Potter back to the Gryffindor common room? I fear he might not make the trip," the elderly man smiled.
"Of course, Headmaster," Hermione smiled through gritted teeth and grasped Harry's arm in an iron grip, dragging him out of the door. "Summer," she hissed into his ear.
But it was not to be.