章 146: Year Six - Chapter Sixteen
There was a certain sense of nostalgia as I stared at the homework the second year Hufflepuff had to do. Ah, back in the good old days when everything was easy-peasy, lemon-squeezy, and nobody had to ask you the magical theory behind the defracturing of broken bones in a Bludger-related accident on a Quidditch pitch. Those were the good old days, when things made sense and magic didn't have complicated algorithms and theories tied to the growth of a weed in the garden of an ancient wizard long since dead.
"Sir, your eyes..." the student muttered, and I blinked.
"Sorry, they twinkle without control whenever I start reminiscing of the good old days," I answered with a chuckle. "So, you don't understand why the viciousness factor of a blueberry is greater than that of a strawberry?"
The boy nodded, "It doesn't make sense to me."
"Well, the viciousness factor is normally the degree by which an object has an innate refusal to become something else," I pointed out. "Blueberries, being blue and thus incredibly sad, wish to remain in their despair-soaked existence. Strawberries, instead, have the word straw in them, which already makes them half of something else."
The boy crossed his eyes.
I chuckled. "That's the way it is," I said with a small shrug. "Just accept that your conceptions of the world must be ever-shifting, like sand billowing in the wind," I mused. "And let yourself go to the flow of incredibly bizarre and alien ideas," I pointed a finger at the blueberry in front of us. "Take heed, though, that the core of one's item doesn't change." I tapped the berry, and watched it swell and turn crimson, a perfect replica of a strawberry. "That smudge of a core is what makes it ever the more difficult to turn a transfigured object into yet another transfigured thing," I smiled. "And the more you transfigure something simple into something complex, the harder it becomes."
"So a Strawberry transfigured into a Blueberry has a viciousness factor different from that of a natural occurring blueberry," the Hufflepuff said, understanding dawning on him.
"Exactly," I cheerfully smiled.
He resumed his homework, and I turned to the next in line. I blinked, and Ron Weasley gave a nervous wave.
"Hello there," I said, "Aren't you a bit too old to be a second year?"
"Yeah, well, I didn't come for homework advice," he muttered, awkwardly rubbing the back of his head. "Can we talk for a moment in private, mate?"
"Sure," I said with a faint shrug of my shoulders, standing up and moving to an unused corner of the library. "What can I do for you, Ron?"
"It's bonkers what's going on, that's what," Ron said in turn, and I stared at him, both of my eyebrows rising. "Everyone's gone off the deep end, if I'm the voice of reason," he added.
"I-I wouldn't say that, Ron," I said, looking quite puzzled. "You're not an unreasonable person at all. What's happening?"
"Listen," Ron muttered, "Harry's been having nightmares, bad ones," he added. "He told us that professor Lupin's a prisoner in Malfoy Manor," he continued. "And-and that he's going to help Dumbledore and the order free him on Christmas' vigil."
I hummed. "The twenty-fourth rather than the twenty-third?" I raised my right eyebrow. "Wouldn't it be better to do so the very same day when the students return home? Perhaps even while they're on the train headed for the station?"
Ron swallowed, and rubbed the back of his head. "That's not what they told me," he said sourly, "you think they might have lied?"
I shook my head. "No, I think they wouldn't lie, which simply means that they'd let a day or two more pass," I shrugged, helplessly. "I suppose if that's their plan, then it's bound to work, but...well," there was Malfoy and Legilimency to consider. Was he even capable of avoiding it? Who'd know?
And if Harry had those dreams, then there was little doubt that Voldemort knew they'd be coming. Perhaps that was why the boy was told the twenty-fourth, and not the twenty-third. It made sense; if I were Dumbledore, then I'd take the possibility of it being true, and...well, if I reached that conclusion, then so would Voldemort too.
Thus, an attack would be incoming, and it would be known.
Still, I was thinking like a strategist would, and not like a wizard. Perhaps Voldemort did expect an attack on the twenty-third, and perhaps it would happen, but even so, he'd just plain put accept it and challenge Dumbledore to a duel to the death in a favorable setting. If that was the case, though, he'd at the very least free the Azkaban's prisoners to have extra reinforcements.
"You still with me, mate?" Ron asked, "Lost you for a bit."
"Busy thinking," I muttered back, "I do have a few things in my head right now," I said in the end. "I suppose they're all bloody bonkers, but you should just keep an eye out on Harry. If I were a dark lord, I'd take care of the chosen one as soon as possible," I grinned. "Like, poison, knife in the throat in the night, cursed item sent by post to them-"
Ron snorted, "Thought you'd forgotten," his ears blushed a fierce red, "We were kids."
"You still are kids in the eyes of the professors and the headmaster," I said amiably. "And that's a good thing. You may be called to serve, but your time hasn't yet come. Enjoy what peace you still have, Ron, and share my suggestion with Harry and Hermione," I glanced at the library's windows, and at the fluffy-looking clouds stretching through the sky. "The days where nothing happens are the best, but we don't understand that until it's too late and-"
"That twinkling thing with your eyes, it's a Transfiguration thing, isn't it?" Ron asked, snickering as he interrupted me.
"It's a thing," I said with a lazy shrug, "Guess it's got to be some form of magic that just so happens to be peculiarly attuned to my incredibly wise self. Perhaps only the wisest wizards can make their eyes twinkle?" I rubbed my chin. "That's a thought for another day."
He bid me goodbye, and as I finished with the last students for the day, I quietly walked my way into my Hall of Shadows, pondering on my next move.
"Megan," I said with a nod as I saw the girl standing by the potions' cauldron, humming about pleasantly as she read from the Half-Blood Prince's book.
"Shade," Megan replied with a small wave of the hand.
"Yoh Shade," Amanda said, rolling away from a peculiarly nimble Sponge-Bludger, which seemed to be keen on hitting her, and yet missed every time she ducked away from it.
"Amanda," I moved past her, and into the kitchen corner. If this kept up, I'd outright have an apartment in my Hall of Shadows, and not just a place for incredible magic experiments and deadly prototypes.
"Half an hour, and we can have ourselves tea and cake," Wayne said from the oven.
I hummed, and then sat down at the counter of the strange and utterly wizarding kitchenette-corner.
I blinked.
Then I took a deep breath and exhaled.
"I'm thinking of heading to Azkaban to see if the prisoner population is still there, my incredibly annoying gang of forceful befriending friends," I said with a chuckle. "What do you suggest I bring with me?"
Megan piped in near-immediately from the cauldron bubbling, "Pepper-up potions since it's a cold island and hot chocolate since there are Dementors?"
"Thousands of Patronuses," Amanda acquiesced, "Like, Thousands. Not one, not ten, but thousands," she stressed out.
"A portkey won't work to leave the place," Wayne acquiesced, rubbing his chin in thought. "So, a miniaturized broomstick, and a portkey to activate once outside wards, and a Knight Bus Extremely Urgent Ticket, so they can pick you up as quickly as possibly. That's something like ten galleons, but they'll drop everything to get you aboard before the other customers."
"The better question would be why you need to go there, Shade," Megan said next, her eyes still glued to the cauldron with the potion bubbling within.
"Just to check if there hasn't been a mass breakout which has gone unspoken," I answered with an equally lazy shrug.
"Well, if that's the case," Wayne said with a sigh, "Do you mind if I take care of it?"
I blinked.
I looked at Wayne as if he had grown three heads, and they all blew fire and screamed about the unhealthiness of chocolate.
He smiled, a happy, simple smile.
"My brother Carl wants to be an Auror, and so I spoke with Susan whose aunt is in the ministry about what he needed to do to have a bit more chances," the smile remained where it was. Wayne. Wayne please. I understand. I understand and I am sorry I believed you were just a simple boy who loved chocolate. Please stop smiling that way. "So, I'll just ask Susan to ask her aunt about it. If I say it's something Dumbledore's heir wants investigated-"
"I am not Dumbledore's heir," I grumbled back, huffing.
"Sure," the trio rolled their eyes in tandem.
"I am not," I huffed once more, but they refused to even believe me.
With a dreadful sigh, I gave a nod to Wayne who happily grinned back.
Connections made the world go round...
...because why waste time washing your hands, when your friends could do that for you for free?
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