I know what you're thinking is gonna happen and it's not gonna happen. I am a carb. I am a very original carb. Maybe. Because an eight-year old witch came up with the same idea. I only own that eight year old witch.

Harry woke up, feeling as though he had just awoken from the most amazing sleep he had ever had. "Your name is Harry. You are a wizard. You go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You have two friends whom you do nothing without. You have money. Lots of money." That was it. The rest of his memory was completely empty. He pushed his hair out of his eyes and grabbed his glasses. Harry saw the Slytherin colors and remembered he was in Slytherin house. His room-mates Crabbe, Goyle and Zabini were his minions.

He grabbed his robes. Today, they seemed softer than ever before. As he walked down to the great hall he saw them. The Mud blood, the Weasel and Malfoy. He felt hatred as he always did when he saw the golden trio of Gryffindor. On the ceiling, Amber had to put a silencing charm on herself to keep from laughing and causing people to look up. Harry Potter—Harry Malfoy—insulting Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Draco… Potter.

Amber stole a glance at Professor Dumbledore, who was also laughing for no apparent reason. After breakfast, he pulled her aside. "How long does it last?"

"I'll say twenty-four hours, so 10 p.m. tonight."

"You were doing magic at 10 last night? Your bedtime is nine!"

"I couldn't sleep! The idea was too awesome!"

"Okay, 10 p.m. tonight, but tomorrow you go to sleep at 9 on the dot!"

"Yes Albus."

She Disapperated to watch more of the show she directed and produced.

Mraw. I can only write short chapters.