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76.4% Harry Evans: Memoirs of a well-lived Death (SI) / Chapter 68: Chapter 64: YEAR END

บท 68: Chapter 64: YEAR END

​Thank you to my new Patrons: James Seven, True Flame. Jeff Roy, Dwayne Palmer, TimGuyy, sorvol, David Monaghan, Norian, willian Anderson, SouthMonk, Journeyman_Mike, Kunta
-/-
The next few weeks of school were as awkward as they were surreal.
Tonks and Harry hadn't told anyone about the fact that Greyback was now dead, which meant that the teachers and the students stayed on high alert. The newspapers reported on the case, and the Auror Department occasionally gave apologies for the fact that they weren't making any progress. Professor Potter looked incredibly stressed, although if that was due to the werewolf situation, or the possibility that Albus had not shared with him the fact that the curse on his position might have been broken, was up in the air.
As for the headmaster, he remained elusive, only appearing at dinner in the great hall on very rare occasions.
Perhaps it was a testament to the fact that Harry had been overly paranoid about his Occlumency back in the day, that Tonks, who had no defences, and probably thought about that night a lot, hadn't given up the secret to anyone. He'd ended up telling her about the Room of Requirement, after verifying that the diadem was gone. She used it for the dummy, and for learning magic sense, something he'd recommended she work on.
Harry did feel a bit dumb there at that specific moment, but his shields provided him with a piece of mind, which was almost as important as an actual defence.
Everything else? Business as usual. Flitwick continued instructing Harry, joyous at every point of progress. They finally finished up the disarming spell and started working on some other tricks for the tournament that Harry was now officially signed up for. It would be happening in Austria, Vienna. The former seat of the Habsburg empire, but also one of the places from which Grindelwald had launched his conquest initially, all those decades ago.
He continued practising Potions with Penny and occasionally helping Cedric with Transfiguration to get him that O+ again. His Magic Sense continued developing, as did his wasp conjuration attack.
Classes were more fast-paced due to the upcoming exams, but just as easy as they'd always been. All the subjects except Potions and Arithmancy required minimal effort to stay on top of, something that frustrated many of his classmates in the subjects he'd advanced in. The pressure on them was higher, now that they risked being outperformed by someone a year, or two younger than them.
Eventually, after the next full moon, people realised that the werewolf hadn't done anything in two months.
Maybe the monster had moved on.
The exams passed in a blur. His Patronus assured him a perfect grade in Charms and DADA, and while McGonagall was disappointed by the fact that Harry did not seek to advance in Transfiguration, although she was impressed by his wasp conjuration.
The year ended with a whimper, not a bang, all the narrative momentum being used up in the last few chapters. After saying goodbye to his friends, to Hogwarts… To the library, from which he'd made many copies, there were only two important conversations that Harry still needed to have before he could complete the year with no loose threads. He'd end up having three important ones because even if he hadn't realised it, other people included him in their plans as well.
The first conversation occurred in the Room of Requirement, after one of Harry's Magic Sense practice sessions. He was working on detecting smaller and smaller amounts of magic in the void and had managed to work his way down to a spoon that was enchanted to always stay see-through. A useless thing, when one considered that this enchantment also made it incapable of actually holding any liquid as a side-effect.
"We've been avoiding the conversation long enough," he started, addressing his Mind Arts mentor, who sat on his head as usual. "I need to know if you still want to come with me, or if you want to stay in the castle."
The hat slumped on his head, and Harry could literally feel the metaphorical gears turning inside it. Then, it began telling a story.
A story about Godric Gryffindor. A young and hot-blooded combat mage extraordinaire. A British wizard who was at the time, considered the best duellist alive. Hailing from a small village now named Godric's Hollow, the man travelled the continent in his youth, defeating foes and saving princesses from dragons. And on one special occasion in Romania, dragons from a particularly vicious and hateful princess.
All the while he left behind him people confused as to how they had lost against him in the duels he'd challenged them to. They had all underperformed, not used their best spells, and succumbed to terrible and sudden headaches.
One thing that history had forgotten about the man, or perhaps never known in the first place… Was that he had been an absolute master of the Mind Arts. An obscure branch of magic used to befuddle one's foes into making fatal errors, in situations where no fatal errors were allowed.
The man travelled, eventually taking an apprentice, as was common. A brave boy with more courage and heart than brain. A boy completely untalented at magic, but very good with a sword and with the lute. It was here that Godric decided to make a sacrifice to fulfil his student's dream of being an adventurer like his master. A troubadour. Godric had won a goblin-forged sword, made from a material that absorbed magic and the attributes of the things it killed.
He infused it with his magic, specifically, his knowledge of the Mind Arts. 
Eventually, the sword gained a mind of its own and the ability to use Legilimency at the level that Godric had used it at the height of his power.
The boy took the sword, gratefully, as was fitting, before striking out on adventure. It was a fun year, full of music, laughter, and protecting the innocent. Then it ended in tragedy. What use was one wizard who couldn't apparate against a pillaging army? Virtue might have protected the villagers, who'd gotten enough time to flee, but it hadn't protected the hero from being killed by the mass of enemies. No matter how many enemies his magical sword was capable of striking down, an army was like a hydra. Two heads growing to replace each one lost.
Godric arrived too late. The only thing that remained was a bloody corpse with more holes than meat and a sword stuck in its chest as a last respect towards a fallen warrior.
That was when a necessity became clear.
A necessity to teach magical children from young onwards, so that they would have time and safety a plenty to master all the magic that they needed to survive and thrive before the cruel world took them.
"I was done with violence at that point, blood sickened me. When they created Hogwarts, I asked to be retired, and given a peaceful task. They granted me the ability to shift between a hat and a sword. I've been sorting students ever since," the hat finished, leaving Harry stunned by the tale he'd just heard.
"Will you teach me how to wield you?" Harry eventually asked in the resulting silence. The question was a question and all that that implied.
"Yes," the hat replied.
-/-
"Well, you'll have two weeks off when you get back, then you're going to be joining me for a quick refresher, a quick strategy meeting. Then we're off to Vienna. Congratulations, Harry, you're officially registered for this year's U17 duelling tournament."
"Thanks for organising it, Filius," Harry said gratefully. The man had gone through all the bother of signing him up and organising accommodation for the one-week spectacle.
"You focus on your training, I'm past my prime, I can do some light organisation work. It only took me five owls to get everything done," the man said cheerfully, leaning against the podium from which he usually lectured. Harry had come to say goodbye to his mentor specifically before the train left.
"When will the listings become public?" Harry asked. He'd need to pay attention to when it would become public so that he could coordinate with Skeeter. She'd likely want the story to be as high impact as possible and he, well, he wanted something in return. A thirteen-year-old daring to sign up for a competition in which 15 was usually the lowest age was juicy enough to ask for something big.
"A day or two before the start. The experience is that anything longer than that and the excitement has time to die down."
The second-year nodded absentmindedly. "Good, good. I just wanted to check in before leaving. One last question. Is there any chance of me winning?" he asked.
Filius hesitated and awkwardly twirled his moustache. "Harry, I have to say. You're incredible. If I'd had your work ethic when I was your age I'd have won the championship a decade earlier. You're academically gifted, as your spell-creation project from last year shows, but you also have the perseverance to just cast a spell several thousand times when it's necessary to elevate it to the next level. You have the instincts, the drive, the talent…" he trailed off.
"I'm not afraid of losing," Harry said. The werewolf and Twix had put losing into perspective. Had he failed to upkeep his part of the battle in either one of those scenarios he would be dead or turned by now. Losing in a duelling competition seemed insignificant in comparison. Especially since he had four more three more tries in him. "If I learn anything I wouldn't even particularly mind."
Filius looked at him searchingly before nodding. "Good. Quite frankly, you could win in case of a miracle. If you had the same amount of training as everyone else and were 17 I'd bet my life-savings on you. But you're fighting more than just an uphill battle here, you're fighting an uphill war."
"Everyone's going to have more training, more experience and probably more support," Harry stated.
"Yes, it's a family tradition often enough. It took me longer than it should have to win my first championship because I didn't have such tricks to rely on. Tricks that generations of my ancestors had developed at that point."
"Well, the situation isn't entirely similar," Harry said. "I do have you, and the entirety of Hogwarts at my back."
Filius considered before nodding seriously. "An impressive legacy to back your claim. I have no doubt that if you keep at it the way that you have you'll win the tournament eventually."
"Just not this year, and probably not the next," Harry said.
"Yes."
"Thanks, Filius, I'll see you soon," Harry said, not having anything more to say.
"Have a nice summer, Harry. I'm looking forward to our preparation week," the professor said, and the two of them parted with a firm handshake.
-/-
Harry awkwardly ambled his way on the train, cutting it close with the leaving. Usually, he went on with his friends, not caring that he was part of a larger mob of students all rushing in. But now he was doing something a tad more complicated, for which he needed all his concentration, and for people to not bump into him.
He was pulling his trunk, which he would normally levitate. The reason why he wasn't was because he was currently levitating two more trunks. Just that they were invisible, and above his head, so nobody could bump into them. It was a laborious exertion of his telekinesis, and his face was probably red. He never could have done anything like this had he not developed his magical sense. Other students gave him weird looks as he passed by, making his way to the last compartment. But none of them bothered him. Finally, he reached the last part of the train, where he found an empty compartment to drag his shit into.
"Really looking forward to selling all this crap," he cursed as he threw himself onto the seat. The question of how exactly he would do that was still in the air. Some of the stuff he'd dragged out of the room of requirement was sus as fuck. The only reason he was considering Knockturn Alley was because the hat that he was once again bringing with him was apparently a bona-fide badass. Godric Gryffindor's Mind Arts capabilities distilled into one artefact was likely something that could keep most people away. Also, killing a werewolf as infamous as Greyback was a huge confidence boost.
Of course, only one of his trunks was filled with stuff from the Room of Requirement. The other one was filled with reading material. Harry had brought a lot of paper into Hogwarts this year, and he'd also scavenged the room for any loose parchment, all for one reason. Reading material. He didn't have access to the library while he was on summer vacation, so he'd used the copy spell sent to him by Slughorn all those months ago to take with him as many books as he could. He would be gone for two months, and considering the pace at which he read, it likely still wouldn't be enough.
The amount of notes and topics he was accumulating was getting a bit ridiculous. He could hardly keep track of it all, and the software application OneNote was still a few years from being developed.
His compartment door suddenly opened, ripping Harry from his thoughts and he looked up to see a confident Tonks stride into his space. She walked better now, after the werewolf. As if there was less weight on her shoulders and as if she was confident in her skills.
Her eyes still looked haunted, however. Less so every day, thankfully.
"Wotcher, Harry," she greeted as she sat down opposite him. He met her eyes, green like his. She'd adapted to wearing his eye colour recently. It fit considering he thought himself closer to her than ever.
"Hey," the boy greeted back. "You look good," he complimented, and she did. Not bothering with muggle clothes Tonks was already wearing shorts, a black top that hung loosely off her shoulders, and of course, Doc Martens.
"Thanks," she said, before giving him a cryptic look over. "You look…" she paused. "Manly," she eventually settled.
Harry sputtered, before laughing. "Manly?" he asked, before pointing at himself. "Girl you've seen me without a shirt. I'm about as manly as you," he said.
Tonks tapped her chin with her finger. Black nail polish, of course. "You know, I think it's the adjective that fits you most. I've always been at a loss for words on how to describe you. But I think manly is it. Not physically, but. Attitude. You're confident, hard-working, you have ambition, social skills, and you get respect. You're just stuck in the body of a child, for some reason."
Harry tilted his head. "That's interesting, those are the words I'd use to describe you. You walk differently now, more confidently. And the amount you work finally matches your ambition."
Tonks nodded, before leaning in conspiratorially. Harry did the same and offered an ear. "You're not the only one who's noticed," she whispered. "You won't believe the amount of dates I've been asked on since we killed that bastard," she said.
"That's a bit insensitive, considering…" Harry muttered.
"Charlie, yeah," Tonks muttered and leaned back. She crossed her arms and looked out of the window as the train started chugging along.
"It's the confidence, I'd say," Harry started switching the topic back. "Most people are directionless and insecure. They love latching on to those that exude an aura of 'I know where I'm going'."
"Is that what you used to think of me?" Tonks asked, with curiosity, not hurt.
Harry didn't feel like lying. "Not entirely, but somewhat. I always knew you had potential. You just needed to cut off-"
"The debris of the irrelevant," Tonks interrupted him while rolling her eyes.
"I know. Who needs friends, relationships and hobbies that don't directly bring one close to one's goals."
The second-year rolled his eyes right back. "I have all of that. People just confuse their priorities. Having friends and hobbies isn't the point of life. It's what you relax with when you're tired from following your actual purpose," he finished and noted that through all of his talking Tonks had just been staring at him, tenderly, with her chin on her fist and her elbow on her knee. "What?" he asked defensively.
The girl shook her head. "Nothing. I just really admire you, you know."
"Thanks," Harry whispered, not remembering when the last time had been that he'd gotten so much emotional positive reinforcement from anyone in his surroundings who wasn't family. Sure he was a hard worker, a good friend. But people didn't often compliment him for just who he was. "I've grown to respect you as well," he said back. "I like this more honest version of yourself. The fearless version."
"Thanks, Harry. That means a lot to me," she said softly, and they just held each other's gaze for a few seconds. Then she suddenly switched topics. "Anyway, we should hang out sometime this summer, I won't have much free time but something should be possible."
"You can apparate now, can't you?" Harry asked curiously. Tonks shook her head.
"There was a class, but I decided to learn it privately in the summer. I had more time for studying that way."
Harry nodded and quickly scribbled something on a piece of paper before
throwing it at her. "Well, here's my landline. If you don't have a phone you can reach me by owl too," he said.
"Thanks, I'll be in touch," Tonks said and put away the paper.
They didn't have much to say after that and descended into a comfortable silence for the rest of the ride, both of them reliving and rehashing some of the memories of the year through partially melancholic, and partially nostalgic lenses.
-/-
AN: I always consider it quite a milestone to finish another year at Hogwarts. Most fics fizzle out before the even finish year one. I'm learning a lot from this story and having a lot of fun writing it. On Patreon we already finished the whole Summer Saga for the first tier, involving House Elves, Horcruxes, Duelling and manchester as it did. Latest chapter we've meet the boy who lived which was going to happen eventually. So, if you want to support me for having provided 200k words of content, feel free, or continue enjoying on here and feeding my ego with your comments. Free will exists for a reason!

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บท 69: Chapter 65: Summer Start

Thank you to my Patrons: Ano, Matyas Horny, IVO8004, Егор Ефремов, Rohan Menon, Hiquake, Michael Nio, Davis Dang, MrBallin, Khaschuluun Saranchuluun, A Simple Pilgrim, Harry, Sigma Team, Luis Ortiz, Prometheus, Loneri, Opponent, Ciro senese, Robert Lantos, Archit Patnaik, James Seven, Potion, True Flame, Allef Dias, Journey_Man Mike, SouthMonk

AN: Wasn't easy getting here, but we're finally at the Summer before Year Three.

-/-

If anyone had happened upon a certain clearing with a gigantic apple tree and three tombstones during the first weeks of summer vacation, they would have found a scene that would have confused them as to what century they were currently in. A boy, approximately thirteen years of age, who was filling out nicely with some growing muscles and height, was swinging a silver sword up, and down, up, and down, relentlessly. He was shirtless, with his longish red hair tied into a neat ponytail. Sweat was flying everywhere and his pants clung to his legs like hyenas to dead meat.

It was naturally Harry Evans wielding the sword, and it was naturally the magical hat that was the sword being wielded.

"98," the sword said when Harry swung it down.

"98," it said when he raised it back up in a diagonal slash.

"98." A block.

"97," a down-wards slash.

It was endless. Just practise after practice after practice. Harsh breaths and gulps for air being taken in a staccato of desperation. Muscles aching, being repaired by the wiggenweld potion, before being torn to shreds again and then coming back stronger.

Harry loved every second of it. There was just something about learning how to use a sword that spoke to his inner, and outer child. There was no need to fear that he was being instructed suboptimally either, as he was literally being taught by the sword he wielded.

"And, done," the sword said. They'd finished the drill and it was time for a short rest. "Good job, Harry," Chanithachuah said. "Glad to see you put in an utterly ridiculous amount of energy and dedication into anything you set your mind to, be it Occlumency, the disarming jinx, or sword-fighting." The voice seemed to be coming from the big red ruby embedded in the pommel, but really it was coming from a slight vibration of the entire blade which culminated in that area.

"It helps me think for the rest of the day," Harry said as he struggled for breath and walked slowly around the clearing trying to still his heart.

"Well, that was it for me. I'm looking forward to this mediaeval festival you promised, but otherwise, you do you," the sword said before transforming, still in Harry's hand, into a leather hat. Harry promptly carried the hat to his backpack, pulled out a Walkman and started playing some music. David Bowie, this time. Chanithachuah had explained after they'd come back that in hindsight, classical music was a type of music that was readily available at Hogwarts, and that he'd rather spend his limited time exploring modern muggle music instead. Harry had been all too happy to oblige. The classics were great, but not to the extent that the hat had insisted on listening to them last year. It didn't help that its favourite composer had crystallised to be Mozart, who was Harry's least favourite.

Done with hooking up the hat, Harry mentally went through the set of priorities he'd given to himself this summer.

Wand-magic was still out of reach due to the trace, none of the wands he'd looted ended up being compatible. Sword-fighting and Occlumency had just been finished. It turned out that Chanithachuah greatly enjoyed probing Harry's mind while being wielded, perhaps even more so than at all other times of the day. Something about constant vigilance, especially in combat.

The only thing Harry really worked on in the clearing other than that was wandless magic. He'd been given one task from Flitwick, and that was to concentrate the effect created through a wandless finite into his left fist.

But… Harry had already been doing that every day since he'd come back. He wanted to work on something else.

"I'm allowed to work on something fun, not just something useful," he told himself as he considered his options. As a second wandless priority Flitwick had told him to work on telekinesis since it would likely be the most helpful in the ring. A third priority was water since it could help him against opponents with veela heritage who could unleash firestorms at a moment's notice.

But Harry also liked fire. It was fun. And it was what he'd used to win his first duel against Tonks. Perhaps it was a bit of a dumb idea to put a whole day's focus on it. Especially in a forest. But… His water-shaping skills and telekinesis had recently plateaued. Sure, they'd passively increased the mastery with which he could use water spells and force spells, but still, it was time for a change of pace.

He held up a hand and clenched his fingers, summoning forth a blazing hot orange fireball at the top of his palm. He stared into the flame like an idiot for several minutes, mesmerised by the patterns of his own magic being given thermodynamic form. Then he started shaping it.

Triangle.

Circle.

Square.

Circle.

Triangle.

Square.

The variations were as endless as they were boring. At some point, he started trying to replicate Tom Riddle's trick of writing his name into the air. Harry Evans didn't offer quite as many possibilities as Tom Marvolo Riddle, but, it did offer gems such as:

Rary Hevans; Hary Revans; Sarny Harev and the best one, in Harry's humble opinion, As Har Revan. Which, if one pronounced it a bit oddly, could be read as 'Ass Hair Revan,' which was just Harry's personal homage to the Star Wars universe.

Unfortunately, he never did manage to get past five letters. The fire dissipated after that regardless of how focused he was. As Har Revan would forever remain unspelled, but not unthought and unappreciated.

After he was done with the fire Harry had to quickly ride home, so that he would be back in time for lunch. His aunt would give him shit if he didn't manage. But, thankfully, the pedals of a bicycle could be propelled by telekinesis, which made the whole thing vastly simpler.

Harry zoomed home. The only lament was that he wasn't a Zoomer anymore. Now he was just a filthy millennial. An early one at that.

-/-

"That looks nasty," Harry said once he arrived back home and parked his bike in the garage. He was referring to the oil spill on the floor, which a grumpy Vernon and Dudley were busy cleaning up with a bunch of rags.

"The guy who sold us the Cadillac didn't tell us he forgot to empty it," Vernon grumbled, referring to the highly stylised and baby blue car taking up most of the space in the garage.

"What's the point in fixing up an American car, the driver's seat is on the wrong side anyway. No way will you get to drive it anywhere, or sell it to anyone who wants to do that," Harry said with a slight tone of confusion. He hadn't bothered asking where his uncle and cousin were going this morning, just knowing that they were picking something up. He hadn't known it was a car.

He smiled. It seemed like the two had bonded now that Harry was gone most of the time and Dudley had gotten old enough to help with the car repair part of the family business.

"We already called a car museum and asked," Dudley said proudly, with a tarred face and black hands. "They said they want it."

"If we can fix it up properly," Vernon added. "They're this new thing that's opening up outside London. A car museum where you can drive the cars, for a fee of course. They have a private track so the inversion isn't an issue."

"That's cool, I'd actually be interested in going to something like that," Harry said with a surprised mutter. It was quite a great idea actually. The only issue was. He still didn't have a driver's licence. And likely wouldn't, for a while more considering he was only now turning thirteen.

"Get in line," Vernon said with a smile. "I'll sell this to them for cheap if I get an all-inclusive ride around."

"Dad!" Dudley exclaimed. "You promised I could get that skater VHS set if we sold it for more than 500 pounds."

"I never said I'd not try to sell it below that," Vernon snorted with a roll of his eyes. "Skating, where is this world coming to," he muttered.

Dudley looked disappointed and mad, which gave Harry a great idea of what to give the boy for Christmas. A skateboard hardly counted as a corrupting present, did it?

"Come on guys, let me get this," Harry said with a sigh and bent down towards the oil spill, putting a finger towards it. He wanted to test something and now was as good a time as any.

Due to his developing sensing skills, which were originally meant for better identifying curses and enchantments and such, Harry had found something new when coming back to the Dursleys. He'd found the trace on his wand, a small thing that he hadn't noticed back in Hogwarts due to the ambient magic. But either way, it was such an inoffensive little piece of spell-work that hardly anyone would be able to tell it was there.

A little knot of grey magical thread wound around the stick-shaped magic of the wand. It had shrivelled up to even smaller proportions in the magic-less environment of Privet Drive, but it created a small field, in which, Harry imagined, if magic was cast, it would alert the ministry.

It just so happened that the garage was outside of that field, so without further ado, he channelled a wandless scourgify into the floor. Under Vernon and Dudley's stupefied gaze, the oil spill started clearing up. Harry's spell wasn't powerful enough to disappear the whole thing at once, but if he continued channelling it?

The spill was gone soon, leaving nothing behind.

In a synchronous movement, Vernon and Dudley looked at each other, before looking at Harry and holding up their absolutely filthy arms entreatingly, with puppy dog eyes. It didn't look nearly as cute considering their coal miner look, but it wasn't up to Harry anyway.

"Not comfortable casting that one on humans yet," he said with a shake of the head.

"Aren't you going to get in trouble for this?" Vernon suddenly asked, concerned.

"Yeah, no magic outside of school. But I saw you playing with water last year in France…" Dudley said before trailing off.

"I think I found a way to circumvent that particular issue," Harry said. "If I don't get an angry letter from the ministry then maybe I can clean the whole house. God knows that no matter how hard Petunia tries, there will always be things that can't be removed by a non-professional."

Vernon nodded sagely. "It can be my birthday present, to her," he said.

A tick mark developed on Harry's forehead.

"If anything, wouldn't it be my present?" he asked.

"Is this the gratitude I get for raising you all those years? Who do you think taught you the work ethic that allowed you to develop that skill, huh?" the man sputtered. Both his son and his nephew gave him doubting looks.

Vernon sullenly crossed his arms and looked away. "You'll see," he muttered. "My present will be much better than any fancy magic." He looked towards Dudley. "Let's go hose down. This is a mess."

They parted ways, father and son going outside to get cleaned up, and Harry going into the living area of the house, where he walked into Petunia holding up a phone speaker.

The woman turned towards him and gestured for him to come over. "It's for you," she said, "Tonks. Right on time for lunch, she knows your habits, this girl," she said and handed Harry the speaker before disappearing into the kitchen.

"Thank god you're here Harry," Tonks said over the line once they'd exchanged greetings. "Your aunt was grilling me like a sausage. Please never be late again for whatever you do in the mornings, that was horrible."

"You haven't told me yet why you can only call at lunchtime and after dinner," Harry said while rolling his eyes.

"It's a surprise, dumbass," Tonks huffed. "Anyway, are you free this weekend? My parents just told me that they were invited to a wedding, no children allowed. You could come hang out for those days, they're letting me be since I'm 17 now. Adult in the magical world and all that."

"Tonks," Harry started, unsure of how to communicate this next bit to his good friend. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this. But you live in Manchester."

"Haha," his friend said in a dead voice. "Thanks for breaking the news. But you don't get it. I'm gaggin for someone to talk to who has a ball in the game. I'm so down in the strops I snapped at me mum yesterday. I need to see a friend or I'm gonna go bonkers."

"What about your other friends, the ones who did the apparition licence already? Can't they just, I don't know, literally pop over?" Harry asked a bit doubtfully. Why did Tonks want to hang out with him specifically?

A longer silence followed on the phone, followed by a bit of a sad

confession. "I was neglecting my friends already at the start of the year, for Charlie. Then after the… you know, I continued doing it for the grind as you would call it. We've had a falling out."

Harry could have made a joke that with Cedric and Penny he officially had more friends than Tonks, but decided against it. Tonks needed encouragement, not jokes. "I'm sorry to hear that. But in the end, if this was the limit of their patience, you wouldn't have made it after graduation anyway. It might surprise some students, but Hogwarts is in fact the time of your life when you have the most free time you'll ever have."

"Thanks, Harry, for that absolutely depressing take, you wanker," Tonks said with a sigh. "So, are you coming or not?"

"Of course I am," Harry said while rolling his eyes. "I'm a loyal puff alright. I just think that my aunt will want to speak to your dad first."

"Oh, no worries, I'll go get him," Tonks said.

"No, you dumb cunt," Harry hissed, preventing the girl from leaving. He repeated himself, more slowly. "I'm saying, maybe you should use your very special talent, to call your dad, so that he can talk to my aunt, and tell her that he'd love to have me over, under his adult supervision."

"Ah, right, sorry, I'm such a snit sometimes," Tonks said, her voice switching to a deeper and more masculine pitch in the middle of the sentence. "Alright young man, can I talk to your guardian?" she said, affecting the tone of voice of a strict middle school teacher.

"Auntie!" Harry shouted, and it was obvious that Petunia had been trying to listen in on the conversation from how she appeared around the corner to take the phone off his hands and talk to 'Ted.'

-/-

AN: Imagine the shenanigans you could get up to with metamorph powers...

If you want to read ahead you can go over to Patreon, all Tiers are worth it imo atm for this story (but especially if you like my other ones as well). next five chapters of tier 1 are a whole mini-arc including the longest chapter I've ever written for this fic. Tier 2 includes the Dumbledore interlude that was voted on a while back, and Tier 3 is already in Year 3 of Hogwarts with the duelling tournament done with. it's also kinda worth it to be a free Patreon, cuz you can give suggestions on the Posts where I ask for interlude suggestions and first chapter suggestions for future polls.

​

Also, there is this new Patreon feature that I enabled where an algorithm sends discounted memberships to free members it thinks are most likely to start paying, lol. Was pretty surprised when that popped up as an option recently. In the end the website just wants more of your money, which I don't of course. I value primarily your emotional support... which I measure in amount of money donated to the cause (cause being me affording my high fucking rent) Did you know that Switzerland legally allows landlords to raise rent even during the contract for the current interest rate of the central bank? I didn't, until my rent suddenly got more expensive out of nowhere (of course they are not obliged to lower the rent back after the interest rates fall again), that after I already had to start paying more for gas heating after the Russia thing started, which mostly just gave companies the chance to price gouge my ass out of my non-existent savings.

​

​Anyway I'm starting to rant, have a great week y'all.

​

​Over.


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