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Harry Potter and the Methods of Irrationality Ch. 8
🕑 Added 2024-12-14 13:37:24 +0000 UTC“Headmaster! Merlin! I wish you would have called ahead! The place is such a mess!”
Albus chuckled as Molly Weasley fussed about, waving her wand every which way to try and clean up the assorted messes scattered across the Weasley kitchen.
Albus took a seat at the table and waited patiently, even if every single inch of his being was itching to just vanish everything in this kitchen with a flick of his wand so he could get the woman to tell him where the bloody cloak was already.
When Molly was finally satisfied that the kitchen was mostly clean, and after some long, torturous minutes where he had to wait for the slowest brewing tea kettle this side of the irish marshes, the woman finally took a seat across from him.
Dumbledore took his requisite sip of tea, not caring that the scalding hot liquid was burning a hole through his tongue. “Molly, I'm sure you're wondering why I came to see you.”
Molly looked hopeful. “Did my Percy receive an award for academic excellence?”
“...no, you see…”
Molly's expression soured. “Who did Fred and George murder?”
Dumbledore blanched. “No one has… your… this is not about the twins-”
“Is it about my little Ronnie? We really did try, headmaster, but even with the Longbottom's tutor, the boy just learns a little differently than others!”
“Mrs. Weasley!” Dumbledore snapped, his voice carrying every single ounce of authority he possessed, enough for even Molly Weasley to get the hint and shut up.
“I am here because your son was gifted a certain cloak, a cloak that is very important.”
“Oh. You mean that invisibility cloak?”
“Indeed. It is a very old family heirloom, and I meant to gift it to Mr. Longbottom, and Mr. Longbottom only.”
“Oh, well, why didn't you say so, headmaster? I put the cloak right here!” Molly got up from the table, and Albus followed after her as she led him towards a cupboard by the hallway.
Molly pulled the door open to reveal several shelves of folded quilts, blankets and towels.
She frowned.
“It left it right here.” Molly clicked her tongue as she began to search through the piles of folded cloth. Albus found himself fuming. If only he could summon the damn cloak.
“Ginny! Ginevra Weasley! Come down here young lady!”
Molly's voice must have had magical properties, because not a second passed before a pair of footsteps came rushing down the stairs and a fourteen year old girl with bright orange hair and a freckled face peeked her head out.
“Yes mum?” Ginny asked, her eyes widening as she recognized the old, bearded man from the chocolate frog cards.
“Ginny, have you been snooping around in here?” Molly gestured towards the cupboard.
Ginny swallowed. Usually, she was pretty good at coming up with excuses on the fly, but having Albus Dumbledore in front of her, the authority figure to end all authority figures, made her very nervous.
“I… err…”
Dumbledore chuckled, putting on his kind, grandfatherly face. “It is quite alright, miss Weasley, it is natural for someone your age to be curious. Neither your mother nor I will hold that against you.”
Ginny wanted to point out that her mother was glaring at her in a way that said that she would very much hold it against her, but she thought better of it.
“Now, miss Weasley, did you happen to take a certain cloak from this closet?”
Ginny bowed her head in shame. “I-I did.”
Dumbledore put a hand up to stop Molly from shouting. “No harm done, miss Weasley! Please, if you could fetch the cloak, then I will take my leave.”
Ginny's face turned even redder. “Ermm, about that, sir…”
“Hmm?”
“Out with it, Ginevra!”
“Well, I went over to Luna's house, and Luna seemed really taken by it, and I felt really bad because I never got her a christmas present last year so…”
Twenty minutes later, a considerably less composed Dumbledore found himself standing in the Lovegood family's very bizarre living room.
“May I interest you in some tea, headmaster? I harvested it myself from the gonads of the-”
“Your daughter, Mr. Lovegood.” Dumbledore said, his self-control having been sapped considerably.
“Of course. Luna!”
A willowy blonde girl with a dreamy, faraway look on her face stepped into the room, smiling pleasantly at her father and the headmaster.
“Yes, daddy?”
“Luna, Professor Dumbledore here wanted to ask you something about a cloak.”
Luna nodded. “The one Ginny brought over? It was such a beautiful cloak! And when it whispered my name, I knew I needed to have it. I'm really glad Ginny gave it to me.”
Dumbledore chuckled, ignoring the tiny alarm bell that went off when the girl talked about the cloak ‘speaking’ to her. “Well, miss Lovegood, that cloak is actually mine, and I would really appreciate it if I could have it back.”
“I can't.” Luna said bluntly.
“You can't?” Albus answered in exasperation.
Luna shook her head as Xenophilius looked on with pride. “My little girl, challenging authority, just like I taught you!”
Albus felt a headache coming in as he barely contained the impulse to go full Grindelwald on the both of them. “Now, miss Lovegood, I need to exhort-”
“I don't have it, not anymore.” The girl said plainly.
“You don't… you don't have it?”
Luna shook her head. “I went into town this morning and I ended up trading it with a muggle boy for this.”
Luna reached into her robe and pulled out a cube filled with multi-colored squares. Taking Dumbledore's horrified expression to be one of intrigue, Luna began turning the cube, much to her father's amazement.
“Oh my, this is some sort of muggle magic!”
Luna smiled. “The boy told me you need to make each side the same colour. Who knows what'll happen once I solve it!”
Xenophilius shook his head fondly. “Oh Luna, you took that poor muggle boy for a fool!”
Albus did not even bother uttering another word. The old man backed away from the Lovegood home as father and daughter became mesmerized by the tiny cube.
…
“Ooooh Harryyyyyy!”
Harry looked up from his desk, where he'd been absolutely oblivious to the world as he continued to dissect the snitch he'd caught during the quidditch match.
Susan had called out to him. She and Daphne were standing a few feet away, their eyes magnified to ridiculous proportions by their glasses. Susan was looking very giddy, but what really worried Harry was the way Daphne was smiling. Daphne never looked mischievous, and the fact that she now did terrified Harry.
“Hey there, girls, what's up?”
“We came up with an exciting new experiment for you!” Susan said as they began walking towards him.
“You did?” He asked, befuddled. This was the first time the girls had ever come up with an experiment of their own, but Harry was more than willing to hear them out. “What is it?”
“Just follow our lead, Harry.” Daphne said as she grabbed him by the arm and made him stand up.
“Remember I won rock paper scissors, Daphne!”
Daphne rolled her eyes. “You've been doing a very good job of reminding me, Susan.”
Susan cleared her throat. She straightened up her posture as she adjusted her glasses and tried to put on academic airs. “We wish to stimulate numerous sensory pathways to study their physiological and psychological effect on the human body.”
Harry scratched the side of his head. “Huh? What?”
Susan grabbed him by the collar and pulled him towards her. Just as Harry parted his lips to question what was happening, he was left completely stunned as he felt a pair of soft lips over his own.
It went without saying that, as someone who'd never even had friends before, Harry was woefully unprepared for dealing with the fairer sex. The recent hugs and kisses he'd been receiving from the girls had been overwhelming enough. But this? This was a whole other stratosphere, it boggled his mind, it left him mystified, and… and…
And it felt really, really nice.
Before he knew what was going on, he found that he'd closed his eyes and was cupping Susan's cheek. He found himself inhaling her light, breezy scent. A scent that reminded him of a light rain on a summer morning.
He was still in a complete daze when Susan finally broke the kiss, grinning form ear to ear as her fingers tickled the back of his neck.
“That was the control.” Daphne drawled as she spun Harry around to face her. In his dazed state, Harry could only stare at Daphne. She looked as regal and aloof as ever, but there was a slight tint to her cheeks that she was unable to hide.
As they locked eyes, it was as if Daphne's confidence evaporated, her face turning bashful as the betrothed teens stood awkwardly within arms reach of each other.
Susan giggled at the sight, and that irritated Daphne enough for her to lift her chin up imperiously and close the final distance with Harry.
Except Harry had worked up enough courage to make a move himself, and their simultaneous movement led to them bumping foreheads and the edge of Daphne's glasses poking Harry's eye.
“Ouch!”
“Oww! Are you serious, Harry?” Daphne snapped as she rubbed her forehead.
Harry grinned sheepishly as Susan giggled uncontrollably. “...It was a lab accident?”
Daphne couldn't help it, she chortled. She shook her head as she placed her hands firmly on Harry's shoulders. They locked eyes once more, and this time, with no words exchanged, their bodies become synchronized.
Their eyes fluttered closed as they closed the distance, and Daphne's lips fell on Harry's.
It was an eternity encapsulated in a moment. Harry felt as if everything around him had disappeared, and only he and Daphne existed. He didn't know what he was doing, not really, but he let himself go, his usually chaotic thoughts settling as every fibre of his being focused on feeling Daphne's sweet lips against his own.
When they broke apart, Daphne let out a cute little gasp, her face flush, and Harry was sure he looked quite similar.
“So, whadya think, Harry? Should we keep researching this?” Susan asked, her voice behind his ear making his spine tingle.
“Y-y-yes. Its definitely something we should look into further.” Harry said with a shudder. “D-Daph-”
“I can schedule some time for tomorrow.” She said.
Harry glanced between the two of them. “That sounds good, though, maybe… we should just keep going right now?”
It was a considerable amount of time later that the three of them hopped out of Harry's trunk. They all looked quite dishevelled, and Susan especially looked quite pleased with herself. As Harry pulled his glasses out of his pocket and placed them on his face, he found that for the first time in his life, his mind was not running a mile a minute and trying to tug itself into seven different directions.
“There you guys are!” Hannah said as they walked into the common room, raising an eyebrow as she noticed their appearance. “Had fun?” She said with a smirk.
“Loads.” Susan said.
Harry noticed that a considerable amount of their housemates were sitting around a table, each of them hunched over a piece of parchment.
“Is there some new homework we missed?” Harry asked. He never had a clue what work they had due, but if there was something they were supposed to hand in soon, Daphne would have been hounding him about it.
“Oh, no, everyone's just drawing up their sketch of the dark wizard.”
“Dark wizard?” Daphne asked.
“Yeah.” Ernie turned around in his seat. “Everyone knows the school is under attack by some mysterious dark wizard, that's why everything's been falling apart recently.”
“Yours is really good, Cedric.” A second year said to the older boy, who smiled sheepishly as he held up a rough sketch of a rugged, bearded man wearing a trench coat and a black stetson.
“Ooh, can I join in?” Harry asked.
“Sure, parchment's over there.” Hannah pointed towards a corner.
As people shuffled around to make room for Harry to sit down, Daphne had her arms crossed, a deep frown on her face.
“What is it, Daph?” Susan asked.
Daphne muttered under her breath, mentally connecting several dots until she finally put her hand to her head. “Oh, Merlin.” She groaned. “I think I know exactly who this dark wizard is.”
“You do?” Hannah said incredulously.
Daphne nodded towards her betrothed. “He's sitting right there.”
“What do you guys think?” Harry held up his sketch, which he'd barely spent five minutes on.
And it showed. His housemates were forced to tilt their heads to try and make sense off the muddled figure that bore no resemblance to a human being.
“Err, you're definitely getting there, Harry. Maybe punch it up a little.” Cedric said encouragingly.
“Harry, come with me.” Daphne had come up behind him, and her grip on his shoulder told him that if he didn't get up, she would drag him out of the chair.
“No way! So Harry really is the dark wizard everyone's scared of!” Hannah couldn't contain her giggles.
“Hannah! It's not like Harry meant for all this to happen.” Susan quickly jumped to his defence, though Harry didn't seem that bothered by Hannah calling him a dark wizard.
“We need to fix this, Harry. That little termite is going to eat through the entire castle if we let it.” Daphne said.
“Alright, I'll come up with something.” Harry said. “Just… erm,” He looked at Hannah.
Hannah crossed her heart. “I would never do anything to jeopardize my cash cow. Your secret's safe with me, Harry.”
Harry let out a sigh of relief. Catching the termite wasn't really something that interested him, but he figured it was something he should put some effort into. If it did end up eating through Hogwarts, then they might close the school, and that would disrupt his experiments!
…
“Maybe we should give him a name!”
“A name?” Daphne questioned Susan from across the room.
“Yeah, a name. I mean, we're hunting the little guy. I don't want to just call him a termite the entire time. Harry, what do you think of Marty?”
“It was a girl termite.” Harry said absently, not looking up from his work table.
“So Fifi then!”
“Any progress, Harry?” Daphne asked her betrothed.
“Sorta.” Harry pulled back the chair as both girls got up and got closer to his workbench.
“Whats that?” Susan asked, pointing to a pile of crumpled up, silver-hued material that she had never seen before.
“Oh, that's tin-foil.”
“Tin-foil?” Daphne spoke the word as if it were a dangerous spell found in an arcane tome.
“It's a muggle thing. I'm pretty sure its able to… well, that doesn't matter for now, that's Plan B. Plan A is this.” Harry held up what looked like a little bee's nest made of twigs.
“What exactly is that?”
“Well, the termite-”
“Fifi.”
“-Fifi will eat anything, but she does have preferences. She likes to eat stuff that is magically dense, but she also really likes-” Harry dug his hand into the nest, pulling out a small little piece of dark chocolate.
“Chocolate?” Daphne asked.
Harry nodded. “She really loves the stuff. So, I laced this chocolate with a sleeping draught.”
“I see, so we put a few of these around and wait for her to take the bait?”
“Yep! I just need to figure out how to set up an alarm ward that'll trigger when something eats the chocolate. Then, we'll just capture her and everything'll be good!”
Daphne hoped Harry was right, but experience told her that when it came to her betrothed, things never went as planned.
…
“Headmaster, considering all these recent… setbacks, perhaps it would be prudent to scrap this plan all together.”
Albus Dumbledore almost never looked incredulous, so when that expression came onto his face, it was all the more striking.
“Severus, you realize the importance of what I'm doing, don't you?”
Snape held back a sigh. Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk, and Snape had never before seen the old man so out of sorts. Dumbledore was a man who seemed to effortlessly control every single variable, and yet recently, things had been slipping from his fingers.
“The mirror was shattered, we have a dangerous third party lurking around that's threatening the very school, you've been distracted recently, searching for something. And most importantly of all, we're near the end of term and Longbottom isn't even aware he's supposed to be uncovering a mystery.”
Merely one of those elements should have been a major cause for concern. All of them put together was a gigantic red flag being frantically waved by a mountain troll.
Dumbledore waved him off. “None of that matters. Mr. Longbottom is a curious, adventurous boy that has an instinct for heroism.”
He's a glory hound. Snape thought.
“What about the stone? Without the mirror, how will you ensure that Quirrell cannot steal it?”
“I have access to more than one ancient artifact, Severus.” Dumbledore said dismissively. “Needless to say, Quirrell will not be an issue. Voldemort is weakened, and there is only so much power he can impart on a mediocre wizard.”
“And what of the third party?”
Dumbledore's face hardened. Ah yes, that mysterious dark wizard that seemed to be taunting him, challenging him at every step of the way.
“I will handle that myself, Severus.” Albus said.
He was confident that Neville would be able to handle the weakened Voldemort. Meanwhile, he had thought long and hard about this mystery opponent, and he had come to a singular conclusion.
This man did not care about money, he did not care about fame and fortune. He did not seek the stone, because he found its power to be below him.
All of these taunts and games, it was a challenge. This man wanted nothing more than to prove his strength, to measure himself against the greatest wizard the world had known since Merlin himself.
Albus would give the man what he wanted: a one on one duel, a test of might. Two mages would enter, and only one would come out alive. Albus would answer the challenge, and he would put this upstart down.
He had to admit, a part of him felt excited. Not since Gellert had he been able to expend his magical muscles, to pry the depths of his power and knowledge.
Yes, he would face this wizard, and he would not be holding back.
…
“It feels like we're putting up Christmas decorations.” Hannah said as she adjusted the tiny nest she'd just hung from the axe-tip of a suit of armor.
They'd spent the past hour going around the castle, putting up Harry's little traps. They made sure to go to the most desolate sections of the castle, so that professors didn't stumble upon them and pull them down.
“Just a couple more to go!” Susan chirped. She was carrying the bag that held the traps. As Hannah stepped down from the ladder they'd brought along, a terrifying voice rumbled from across the hall.
“Potter!”
Harry looked up like a deer caught in headlights as Madam Hooch stood menacingly, her shoes clicking loudly as she marched over to them.
“Never have I had a student go this far into the year without completing their flying lesson. You have been flaunting my authority every step of the way, and it stops now!”
Daphne tried to step in. “Professor, perhaps you're over-”
“No!” She glared, pointing an accusing finger at Daphne and Susan. “You two, you've been enabling him! Enabling this! Well now, it is time for you to reap what you sow.”
She squared up on Harry, golden eyes piercing right through his soul.
“Harry James Potter. You will complete your flying lesson tomorrow. I expect to see you out on the grounds at eleven in the morning, and if you do not complete it, I will fail all of you.”
Daphne and Susan paled, while Hannah quickly waved her hand in the air. “Umm, Madam Hooch, just to be clear here. I'm not included in that, right?”
Hooch's sharp eyes snapped over to her, as if seeing her for the very first time. “I'm sorry, who are you again?”
“No one!” Hannah instantly replied.
“You two better make sure he shows up, or the consequences will be dire.”
And with that, Madam Hooch turned and left, leaving a terrified trio and their very relieved friend behind.
“I think we might need to put this hunt on hold.” Susan said in a small voice.
“Good luck you guys!” Hannah waved goodbye as she scampered off.
…
“Come on, Harry! It's just a broom. Just kick off the ground, hover for a little bit and fly in a straight line!”
Susan tried to sound encouraging, but it clearly wasn't working. Harry's face was deathly pale as he held the school broom at arms length, looking at it as if he expected it to explode at any moment.
Daphne had her hands on her hips. She was frustrated, very frustrated. Harry hadn't even blinked when he'd put them in several life-threatening situations, including facing off against a bloody mountain troll and a cerberus. So why was it that even the thought of hovering a couple feet off the ground left him so paralyzed?
Her first instinct was to lash out. It was to yell at him and brow-beat him into hopping on the damn broom.
But then she looked at his face, looked at the genuine fear in his eyes, the way he was clenching his fists, and she thought back to the way she'd felt just before going to the ball with her father.
Harry had been there for her then. He'd pulled her out of her terror. What kind of person would she be if she did not repay the favor?
“Harry. Why exactly are you so afraid of heights?”
Harry fiddled nervously with his hands, his eyes darting wildly between Daphne and Susan.
Susan reached out, putting a reassuring hand on his arm, “Harry, you can talk to us, you know that, right?”
Daphne mirrored Susan, putting a hand on his other arm. “Harry, we're not going to judge you… promise.”
That little bit of vulnerability at the end was what did it. Harry swallowed the lump in his throat, plopped down onto the grass and looked up at the two girls.
“Well, it all started when I was little…”
…
“What are you doing now, freak?!”
Eight-year-old Harry looked frantically over his shoulder, trying desperately to hide what he'd been working on for the entire recess.
But there was no way he was going to succeed. Dudley shoved him away, his face scraping against the concrete of the playground as his cousin and his friends yelled loudly.
“Ewwwww!”
“Wow, you really are a freak now, aren't you? Look, everyone, Harry was playing with a dead frog!”
Dudley grabbed the frog by its legs and held it up high for the rest of their class to see. Girls squealed and yelled and gagged while everyone shot Harry looks of disgust.
“My older brother said that's how serial killers start.”
“I don't wanna sit next to him. Cindy, can we swap seats?”
“Ewww, no way!”
The school bell saved Harry further embarrassment. He stayed behind as the rest of the class returned to the classroom. Dudley looked back at him with a mocking smile as he tossed the frog up over the fence, making the girls squeal once more.
Harry sighed as he went up the stairs to class. He took his seat by the window, noticing how everyone around him had pulled their desks away, trying to create as much distance as they could from him.
He really didn't care. It wasn't any different from before, not really. He'd always been an outcast, he'd never had any friends, what did it matter if they looked at him a little bit more weirdly now?
Harry couldn't help but feel excited. He'd have to find another dead animal, but there were always plenty of those.
The teacher began talking, and even if Harry hadn't been distracted, he would have struggled to keep up with the lecture. He'd always had trouble paying attention.
Now, at least, he managed to stay focused during one class in particular. Now, whenever they had science, the teacher had Harry's full, undivided attention, even if the stuff they were learning about was nowhere near as cool as what he'd seen in the movie.
It had all started with that movie. Harry had been able to catch most of that black and white Frankenstein movie since his cousin and uncle had fallen asleep while watching it, and it had changed Harry's life.
To think that he could do things, to think that he could bring someone back to life. It was fascinating.
Harry glanced around, making sure that everyone else was zoned out as the teacher droned on and on. He reached into his backpack, pulling out a photograph.
He'd taken great care with this photo. He'd found it in the attic, in a dusty old photo album that had been crammed into a corner. The album had been full of old pictures, pictures of a family he didn't recognize, though one of the daughters looked suspiciously like his aunt.
The album had mystified Harry. It had depicted a family of four: a husband, a wife and their two daughters, but for some reason, the other girl, the one that didn't look like his aunt, had gotten her face burnt off on almost all of the pictures.
Almost all except this one.
Harry stared at the picture, which showed a beautiful teenage girl with long, flowing auburn hair and a kind smile. And, even through the faded colours of the photograph, Harry could tell that her eyes were green, a very peculiar shade of green, the same green he saw when he stared at the mirror.
It was his mum. He had a picture of his mum.
The breeze from the window caressed his hair. Harry looked outside, daydreams coming as easily as breathing for him.
There were a few birds chirping on the tree branch outside. Harry smiled, glancing back down at the picture cradled in the palm of his hand.
Maybe, if he really put his heart into it, he could do like Dr. Frankenstein did. But, instead of bringing back a monster, he could bring back the mesmerizing smile from the picture, the warm, loving, emerald green eyes that made him feel safe. The eyes that, for the first time in his life, made him feel loved.
Harry was always so oblivious to his surroundings. He didn't notice the girl sitting nearest to him whispering to another girl while pointing at Harry.
The bell rang as suddenly as it always did for the daydreaming boy. Harry placed the picture on his desk as he got up, still half-staring out the window as he absently stuffed his unused book and notebook in his backpack.
He saw a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye, but he was too slow to stop the hand that snatched the photo from his desk.
“Hey!” Harry yelled indignantly as a pigtailed girl held the photo up in the air.
“See, I told you. He's got photos of girls and everything!”
The other kids began to murmur as the teacher sighed, shooting Harry an irritated look.
“Give that back!” Harry reached out but the girl jumped out of reach.
“Jeez, Dudley, how can you live with a creep like that?” One of the boys asked his cousin, who was greatly amused by the entire thing.
Harry grit his teeth as the girl moved around, waving his mum's photo up above her head as she taunted him. He didn't hear the jokes and the insults from the other kids, he was solely focused on getting his picture back.
“That'll be enough, Mr. Potter, Miss Landry, why don't you-”
“You're such a weirdo!”
“Give it back!”
Harry leapt at her, using strength he didn't know he had to grab at the girl as she stumbled back.
“Look at the freak! He's fighting a girl!”
“Get off me!” The girl spat as she twisted around to keep the photo away from Harry.
Harry reached over her, fighting against the many arms that were now trying to pull him off of her.
They were by the window, and as Harry struggled to break free, the girl glared at him.
“Whatever!”
She let go, and the picture floated in the air, dancing like a feather, before a whisper of a breeze sent it flying out the window.
“No!” Harry yelled. Unbeknownst to him, he was freed from the other's grasps by an invisible force, but his accidental magic did not then help him get the photo back.
He was so desperate, he couldn't let that go, he couldn't lose the one thing in his life that was truly his.
He reached out, he leaned over the window as the photo danced just at the edge of his reach.
He heard children screaming behind him as he just barely managed to trap it between two fingers.
And then he felt air rushing all around him and he saw the grass rapidly coming up to meet him.
His startled yelp was snuffed out by the wind. He shielded his face with his arms, and in his panic, he felt something slip from his fingers.
‘No!’
Harry fell right onto the grass, the photograph drifting away in the wind, never to be found again.
…
Daphne was doing her best to keep herself composed. She was sniffling as she kept down the lump in her throat and she hugged Harry for all he was worth.
“Oh Harry!” Susan was showing no such restraint. She was openly sobbing as she squeezed the life out of Harry from his other side.
“It's alright, really. I didn't even get hurt that bad, just broke both my arms. They said it was a miracle cause I fell three stories.” Harry said.
Daphne wanted to ask about the photograph, she wanted to ask Harry about his mum, but she decided it would be best to leave that for another time. Harry had opened up far more than they could have ever hoped, and she wasn't going to push him.
Besides, she could feel a boiling rage rise within her.
“That little muggle brat. I swear, if I ever see her, I'll throttle her.”
“Not if I throttle her first.” Susan said.
Harry shrugged. “She went to a different middle school than me. Honestly, after the fall, everyone just left me alone for a good while. But, you know, ever since then, I've never been able to get over my fear of heights.”
Daphne and Susan looked at each other, then back to Harry and the broom, which was lying flat on the grass now.
“This doesn't seem like something you can just get over in a day.” Daphne said.
“...no, probably not.” Harry said sheepishly.
“Well then, that just means we need to come up with another solution to the problem, a Harry solution.” Susan said, her eyes filled with determination.
“A Harry solution?” Harry asked hopefully.
“There is clearly no other way.” Daphne said, giving her betrothed a supportive smile.
Harry smiled, “Come on, we gotta get back to my trunk!”
He walked back to the castle with a renewed spring in his step, followed closely by the girls.
…
“Hmmm, this is quite interesting.”
“What is it, Albus?” Minerva asked as she cut into her lamb.
It was dinnertime in the great hall, and the headmaster had just received a late-night owl.
“Oh nothing, it seems that there's an emergency meeting of the International Confederacy of Wizards tomorrow, and my attendance is required.”
Minerva hummed. “Well, that should be fine, Albus, the school won't fall apart if you leave for a few hours.”
Dumbledore chuckled. “Indeed, Minerva.”
Dumbledore and Snape shared a single pointed look before they returned to their meal. Professor Quirrell didn't even lift his head. To anyone, it might seem like he hadn't even heard the small bit of conversation.
But he had, and his eyes drifted over to the Hufflepuff table, where the strange little boy that had proved so helpful was missing.
If only Harry Potter knew how invaluable he'd been in Lord Voldemort's return. The boy had a brilliant mind, a mind that might very well flourish under his guidance.
But right now, Quirrell had to focus on the task ahead. Tomorrow was going to be the day. The day he would steal the Philosopher's Stone from right under Dumbledore's nose and return his master to his rightful throne.
Almost as an afterthought, he looked over to the Gryffindor table, where Neville Longbottom was surrounded by his gaggle of admirers and hangers-on. The Boy-Who-Lived, yes, what better way to ring in his second rise than by parading the broken form of the wizarding world's savior in front of his horrified subjects?
Yes, tomorrow was going to be a very wonderful day indeed.
Comments
Lurk
I mean Dueling Hearts wasn't so much burnout as everyone hated it so much I gave up
Jonas Kairiūkštis
I really admire your ability to seamlessly switch between crack and seriousness and feels. Really hope you will not burn out like with Dueling Hearts. Damn I miss that story.
Darth Reven
I want to know if Harry will get his family cloak back that a potter heirloom that dumbassadoor gave away to someone else
Hadrian v.E.
I really hope that girl gets hunted down and beaten up. She needs to learn the hard way not to touch other people's stuff without permission. It'll be great if Harry can bring Lily back!
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