You couldn't stop her. When one Hermione Granger came up to you, eyes a glitter, having just worked out something all by herself, you had to sit back and listen. Just try and stop her.
Although her interests in the dry and dusty, had found something currently relevant. And Harry was obliged to listen as it was pertaining to him.
"So ... I'm the Anti-Christ?"
"Well, not in the strictest literal sense. You see, Christianity … 'borrowed' a lot of rotes, and rituals and events from what they called 'pagan' religions and traditions over the centuries, and a prophesy of an agent of change - that's you, by the way - was picked up and edited and modified, and several centuries of Chinese Whispers gradually evolved into a movie starring Sam Niell."
Harry leaned back, rubbing the bridge of his nose where his glasses usually rested. "If Aunt Petunia and her church group ever heard about that, she'd have a literal stroke right on the spot."
"So you're going to tell her immediately?"
Harry stopped gathering up his things, and grinned at Hermione.
"Try and stop me ..."
