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Wise Operator
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"In this world the greatest courage is to drop the mind aside. The bravest man is who can see the world without the barrier of the mind, just as it is. It is tremendously different, utterly beautiful. There is nobody who is inferior and there is nobody who is superior -- there are no distinctions." - Osho
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Chapter One: The Day I Died
I wasn't expecting to die that day. I had my wand of course, and I was wearing a black robe that felt really soft. We were in a press conference. "Harry, Harry!" said Colin Creevey, reporter extraordinaire, "A photograph for the prophet?"
I stopped and waved my arm, smiled, "Yes of course," I replied, knowing it was the only way to get the reporters off my back. They're monsters, give them what they want and they may be appeased, won't take my hide out with their shit slinging insults and what not. Of course at age fifty, with a fat belly and a bottle of beer in one hand, a cigar in the other, I, the great Harry Potter, didn't look really great at all. But of course I had good fashion sense, got my robes hand made from some third world country and paid ten times what it was worth.
All okay, I got a fortune saved up. A flash, caught in my eye, argh, I hate those. I blinked, "Okay enough of that, let's get this party started, shall we?"
I looked around the giant room the Ministry had rented. A hundred or so witches and wizards were already there. I was late. Oh well.
I looked around for some beautiful women, caught one in a bright red dress. She was blonde and had her wand tucked in a bun of her hair. It looked sexy. I waddled up to her, stopping every so often to shake hands and so on.
"So, what's going on here?" I asked in my best mischevious-playful tone. "Having fun?"
She turned, her expression cool, "I fail to see how it concerns you, Potter."
"I'm sorry, do I know you from anywhere?" I asked, curious, the pureblood purist propaganda people were all gone, or so I had assumed. Obviously this very beautiful - stop eying my tits, her ice cold blue eyes said - woman hated me. I can read people you know.
"My grandmother went to school with you, Daphne Greengrass."
"Oh her," I said vaguely, waving my arm in a twirling sort of way. "Well I know lots of people, you know, from the Hogwarts days. But really, it was so long ago. Can I buy you a drink?"
"The bar's free," she said.
"I know," I said, grinning.
She rolled her eyes, but I think the joke worked because she nodded her pretty little head and off we went.
Usually I let my hand graze a woman's ass when I'm accompanying her, you know, my Potter signature. I didn't do it this time because she probably wouldn't appreciate it. Didn't stop me from catching an eyeful though.
"So what's your name?"
"Greengrass," she said, "Elmy Greengrass."
"Elmy?" I burst out laughing, then nodded politely at the Minister of Magic. "How do you do, sir?"
"Oh, Mr. Potter! Wonderful! Quite wonderful! I see you've met my daughter?"
"I didn't know," I said honestly, "She's very pretty."
Her face reddened with heat. I smirked. "We were just heading to the bar, would you like to join us?"
"Oh of course," said the Minister, Minister Greengrass. "Come on then, Elmy, let's go, fancy a strong drink, eh?"
"Damn straight," I said, "Love the drinks, love the cigars."
"Ah, did you get the new pack I sent you? They're imported from Canada you know."
"Canadian cigars? What do they make it from, beavers?"
"Most likely, most likely, Potter," Greengrass said jovially. "Come on, Elmy, cheer up. It's a party you know."
"Why must I spend this one with him, of all people?" She snapped, glaring at me.
I blinked, "Why, because I'm Harry Potter."
The party ended. I wasn't there to witness it, with all them boring chaps going on and on about whatever new dark lord came up, and the economy, and the prices, and what have you. I washed my hands of all that nonsense long ago.
There's only three things I cherish in my life now: booze, women, and charms.
I'm great at charms, its how I defeated Voldemort. My charm work, just like my mother - Lily's favorite class was charms, the one she had the most talent in. I didn't get her potions skills, but Dumbledore and Flitwick, now deceased, always told me my charms were top notch, par excellence. I guess that's French for really good.
I still keep up with the latest charms theory and research, and imagine to my pleasant surprise Elmy - wierd name, but beauty makes up for that - was a charms fanatic as well. We got off to a great discussion about the latest theory in charms - time travel.
"It exists," she insisted, "There are experiments proving it to be so."
"Nonsense, utter nonsense," I said, waving a drink in my hand. My speech was slurred at this point. My holly and phoenix wand - as well as the one between my legs - tingled with heat. "Time travel is simply impossible, maybe in theory but even that... that is an exaggeration as well. You see, my young and naiive little friend, change is the essence of your time travel theory. You want to change the very core of magic, the stream that runs the universe, in order to transport something back in time. Im-fucking-possible!"
"I know it is possible! I can prove it!" She said heatedly, her eyes flashing with anger.
I laughed. "Well then, let's see?"
She glanced around, "Not here, let's go to my place."
My penis sense tingled. Oh yeah, this was it, the thing to seal the deal. I was definitely in for a memorable night.
Little did I know how true that would be.
We went, arm in arm, half drunk - she was a light weight, unlike me - to the fireplace and threw a handful of flew powder into the fire.
The fire turned green like grass - Greengrass! I burst out laughing.
"What?" She asked me quizzically.
"Nothing," I said, and this time I let my hand graze her ass, just lightly touching.
Then I squeezed. She yelped. I pushed her into the fire.