Chapter 19: A Game of Chess

After a day of work, Harry was relaxing with a fun game of chess in the Ravenclaw common room.

Well, fun for him anyway.

Hermione sat across from him, glaring at the board as if that would change the fact she was losing. She moved her hand to a rook, and Harry coughed. Giving him an uncertain look, she moved to a knight, and he sucked in a breath. On his turn, he took her bishop.

She glared at him. "Why are you doing this? You're evil."

"Me, evil? Why, I didn't even touch your queen five turns ago when you left it wide open."

She blushed and mumbled. "Just end the game if I'm playing that badly."

But on the next turn, even though he could have gone for checkmate, he just took another pawn.

He'd heard that orcas play with their food before eating it, and he could understand why. It was fun to see her grit her teeth when she'd been crushing him all these years.

Five turns later, after Harry chased her king around the board, he finally declared checkmate.

"Evil," Hermione whispered, narrowing her eyes.

He leaned back in his chair as the board reset, hands resting across his lap. "When it suits me. Though, I find it hard to believe you're going to blame your loss on my evil nature and run off to pout. As the saying goes, don't get mad, get even."

"You're suggesting that I play another game and lose?" she scoffed.

"Well…there is another way you can get me back," said Harry, pointedly touching the handle of his wand.

She let out a small sigh. "I'm not going to duel with you, Harry."

He couldn't help deflating a little, but he pressed on. "So you're going to let me get away with insulting your intelligence? I'm surprised, Hermione."

She raised her eyebrows teasingly. "I have no assurances you won't be just as annoying in a duel as you're being right now."

"Oh no, I promise. It will be very enjoyable for both of us. You'll be able to fight with someone on your level, and I finally won't have to hold back. Won't it be great to tackle someone who can take it?"

She was quiet for a moment, and he worried he'd gone too far until she said. "Let me get this straight. You want me to use all of my strength to…crush you against a wall or something?"

"You can try," he said, smirking. "Although, who knows, maybe I'll find your secret weakness and crush you instead?"

A blush creeped up her neck. "My…weakness?"

"What will it be, I wonder?" He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "I suppose I'll need to experiment to find out. Might have to fight you a few times in that case."

"Well…umm…" said Hermione, running her hands through her hair. She pulled out her wand. "Quietus."

The sounds of student conversation around them muffled.

"Okay, look," she said, her eyes trained on the board in front of them. "I was going to bring this up in a more sensitive way, but I don't think I can wait any more. Just so you know, this will be awkward."

"Thanks for the warning," he said, already feeling the dread settling in. "What is it?"

She took in a deep breath and then let it out. "I heard something about you that's been confusing me. You and Neville are close friends. Are you…close in a special way?"

"Uhh…" said Harry. "I'm not sure what you mean."

She looked as tense as a bowstring stretched thin. "Are you dating?"

A few moments later, Harry forcefully closed his mouth.

"Wha…how…why?"

"Well?" asked Hermione helplessly. "Yes or no?"

"No, we're not dating," he said, hating the blush rising in his cheeks. "We're just friends, in the most platonic way possible. Why would you even think that?"

The worst of the tension faded from her shoulders. "Well, I just heard it from some first years."

"Oh, right. Because they're always a reliable source of information," he deadpanned.

She shrugged. "They made a good argument. Sorry about having to ask."

Harry glanced around the room, just to be sure, and no one was staring at them in shock or whispering to their friends. Harry breathed a little easier and said, "Is that all you had to ask me?"

Hermione shifted in her chair. "Just to be clear, then, you are attracted to women?"

He sighed. "Yes. To a certain extent."

"To a certain extent?" repeated Hermione.

"Yes. Of the two genders, biologically I am…inclined towards women. However, I am not like those boys in Ravenclaw that fawn over every girl with the slightest amount of charm or beauty, regardless of her other qualities."

Hermione smiled at that. "I'd say that's a good trait."

Harry nodded. "I agree. It's fortunate I have this amount of self-control, as I have decided not to date at all to pursue other interests."

She went very still. "What?"

"I've got the enormous task of rediscovering the secret to immortality. That isn't just a job, it's a vocation. If I waste time pursuing romance, I may become distracted and miss my opportunity. Besides, with relationships there comes drama, marriage and children. If I'm going to be in the lab all day, I can't also be home for dinner at six or make football practice."

Hermione didn't say anything, so Harry just kept talking, "Besides, if I do discover immortality, I'll have all the time in the world to explore relationships, if I'm still inclined to do so. The way I see it, it would be very sad if I never discovered immortality, even if I tried my best. However, it is unconscionable for me to miss out on the chance because I was being selfish. That would be like giving the entire human race a death sentence so I could play around for a few years."

"I see," said Hermione. "But…after you become immortal, won't you be old?"

"Well, I'm sure that restoring youth can't be any more difficult than defeating death, so given enough time I'll find a way to do that too. At any rate, I'm hoping to rediscover immortality before that becomes a problem."

Hermione nodded and took in a shaking breath, her eyes fixed on the table, her knuckles white. Suddenly, in a jolt of panic, Harry realized that he'd been in this situation with her before, and that maybe she was about to run out of the room in tears.

He started fidgeting, regret hitting him in waves. Now that he thought about it, his persistence in dueling might have seemed flirtatious. He hadn't meant it that way, and he certainly didn't want to give her the wrong impression. He was steeling himself for tears or yelling, but was shocked when Hermione burst out laughing.

"Ha ha ha ha!" cried Hermione, banging her fist on the table. "Of course you don't want to date anyone until you're immortal! Ha ha, this is so funny, why can't I stop laughing?"

Her eyes squeezed shut tight, and he thought he saw tears.

"Ha ha, yeah," said Harry, shifting uncomfortably. "Are you alright?"

"Oh, I'm perfectly fine! This all makes so much sense, just too much sense."

"Erm, okay." He wished he'd remembered to cast the other concealment charms, as there was no way someone hadn't heard that even through the barrier.

Once her laughter had dissolved into fitful giggles, she dried her eyes on her sleeve and smiled at Harry. "Well, you know what, I'm happy for you, and for whoever finally wins your heart."

"Ahh..really?"

"Of course. I mean, what a lucky girl. She'll be going out with the smartest and oldest man on Earth. Who knows, maybe it will be my granddaughter?"

That was an awkward thing to say, but Harry only made it worse by adding, "Ha ha, I hope she's as pretty as you."

Harry's mouth snapped shut, but he couldn't take it back.

Hermione blinked. "You think I'm…"

"Objectively speaking, of course!" Harry blurted. "In that sense, a lot of girls are pretty. Like Cho Chang and Marguerite Valentine and…and Tonks, when she's not pretending to be a boy. I mean, even some boys in this room are good-looking, but heaven knows I don't want to date them. Biologically, it's really not all that special to be attractive, it's the natural state of things. And even so, I would choose an ugly girl over a pretty one any day as long as she had a good personality."

His mind was staring in horror at the carnage he'd created. When things got awkward, he just tended to word vomit, and it was not helping, not at all.

"Ahh," Hermione said. "Well, I'm glad we straightened that out." Her knees shook as she stood up. "I'm feeling quite tired, and I don't think I have it in me for another game."

"Right," said Harry, banging his knee on the table in his attempt to stand. "I can't blame you, I'm tired too. Goodnight, Hermione."

She smiled shakily and ran away.


That night, Hermione Granger turned up the quieter and let herself cry. Her brain kept interrupting, telling her, "I told you so," and "It was just a silly crush anyway." And yet, even as she wanted to believe that was true, the pain in her chest told her it could have been so much more.

But by the next morning, she decided she was done with tears. She'd once read a story about a girl who got dumped, and then spent the next four months catatonic in front of her bedroom window and screaming like a demon at night. Well, she wasn't about to waste her time on that. She was Hermione Granger, and her life didn't revolve around boys.

So, she put on her Beauxbatons uniform, brushed her hair until it looked perfect, and then walked downstairs to breakfast. She sat down beside Harry, who looked tense and uncomfortable.

"Hi," he said. "I…uhh…fruit?" He pointed to the bowl.

She took a piece, and then said, with a gentle smile. "Harry, don't worry, I'm not upset. I was just surprised, that's all. You don't have to worry about me exploding at you."

"So," he said, frowning in confusion. "You don't have any…lingering feelings?"

She let out a laugh, even as her heart squeezed. "Come on, Harry, don't be silly. I'm just happy to be friends. Don't you feel the same?"

"Of course," he said, his fingers picking at the orange without peeling it. "Well…umm…do you want to meet up this afternoon for research?"

"Unfortunately, I'm busy," she said, and she could see the tension leave his shoulders. She understood, because as much as she wanted things to be normal between them, they weren't yet.

At lunchtime, she decided she didn't have to sit at the Ravenclaw table, since she wasn't a Ravenclaw. Instead, she found a seat with the Hufflepuffs near Cedric Diggory.

"Hello," she said. "I wanted to sit with the cool kids today."

Some of the students smiled, and Cedric winked. "So, you've finally come over to the dark side. Well, you're in for a treat. As the Hufflepuffs have a great relationship with the kitchen staff, they always serve us extra helpings."

As if to prove the point, a giant cranberry cobbler appeared nearby, and the students immediately got to serving. The crust was flakey, the cherries tart, and it was hands down the best cobbler Hermione had ever tasted.

So this is why the Hufflepuffs are always so cheerful, Hermione thought, spooning in another bite.

The conversation was light and relaxing, unlike the deep topics that usually got analyzed at the Ravenclaw table. It was also a little bit boring, but Hermione just let the sound of happy chatter wash over her and tuned out the rest.

A sudden hush brought everyone's attention to the doorway. As if walking on their own personal catwalk, three girls strode in lock step into the Great Hall. The words "Baby Charlie's Angels" flitted through Hermione's mind. On the right was a curly haired brunette Hermione didn't know, on the left was the blonde Susan Bones, and in the middle walked redheaded Ginny. The sun shone at the perfect angle to bring out the highlights in their hair.

"Fashionably late again," muttered Hannah Abbott, from beside her.

Many of the boys and girls of the Hufflepuff table were sneaking glances, especially at Ginny Weasley. As they passed by, she said, "Hi Cedric."

"Hi Ginny," he said, making a careful point not to look at her.

As soon as they left, everyone started talking in a rush.

"I heard she got all of her friends dates with the Durmstrang boys. Susan Bones is going with one whose family owns the largest furniture company in Europe."

"I heard she doesn't have a date yet, but that Boris Krum is interested in her. They're going to Hogsmeade this weekend."

"But I heard…" The student glanced at Hermione, and then fell silent, suddenly very interested in her food.

"He's not going with me," protested Hermione. "And by Ginny, are we talking about Ron's sister?"

"You don't know about her?" asked Leanne. "She's basically the queen bee at Hogwarts. If she likes you, then you're popular. If she doesn't, then you're getting hexed in hallways."

A second year redheaded Hufflepuff said, "She tried to get Cho Chang to join the group, but she wouldn't, so now she has bumps on her bum."

"That's just a theory," retorted a third year. "But if Cho keeps talking to Cedric, she'll be in trouble."

"Why?" asked Hermione.

The third year's voice dropped to a whisper. "Cedric and Ginny used to date, but then she dumped him for a Gryffindor." She lowered her voice even more. "But now that he likes Cho, she keeps trying to get him back."

Hermione glanced at Cedric, who was focused on eating his pie, although clearly not enjoying it.

Oddly enough, this situation wasn't unfamiliar to Hermione. At Beauxbatons, all of the girls were pretty and cultured. If you didn't fit into that mold, you didn't exist, as far as they were concerned. At least here in Hogwarts, there only seemed to be a small group of Barbie dolls, so now she knew who to avoid.

Of course, Ginny's crew wouldn't bother her any more than the Beauxbatons girls did. Hermione had never been "girly," but she was powerful and famous, so all the girls in her year made an effort to befriend her. Hermione had drifted in and out of a few social circles before she realized it was more fun to just spend time alone.

Well, that needed to change.

"Hannah," said Hermione. "Do you want to go to Hogsmeade this weekend?"


Daphne Greengrass strode down the hallway, burning with frustration.

She had been trying her hardest. She'd walked right past him, flipping her newly straightened blonde hair just so, and he hadn't looked at her. She'd laughed really loudly in his general direction, acting cute and funny, but he hadn't glanced up from his food. What else was she supposed to do? It had gotten to the point now when she couldn't concentrate during Herbology. He would always come alive, in his element, and she would spend the entire hour staring at him instead of actually learning anything.

It was time to take action. Lavender Brown's bold move had inspired her—she had to do whatever it took to get her man.

Steeling herself with resolve, she stepped into the Beauxbatons common room, where Marguerite Valentine was holding her weekly lessons on The Art of Seduction.

"Even if you're already dating someone, or you're just not ready, you can use the art of seduction in many areas of your life," said Marguerite, leading a discussion from the Beauxbatons couch. "For example, if you're trying to get a new internship within the ministry, you'll want to stand out among the candidates. Referring to lesson seven, you'll know that means you need to appear how your employer expects a new candidate to be: confident, knowledgeable, and eager to learn. School your responses to win their approval and you'll get the job.

"This also works for professors. Some, such as Professor McGonagall, demand strict attention to detail and a strong work ethic. And some, like Professor Slughorn, admire charisma and cunning. You can see their values and way of thinking reflected in their test questions, and you can modify your responses to best suit their taste."

A few Ravenclaws and Slytherins feverishly jotted down notes. A second year Gryffindor raised her hand, and Marguerite said gently, "You don't have to raise your hands in my class. Just speak as you like."

"Miss Marguerite," said the student. "How do we get up the courage to tell a boy our feelings? I want to go to the Yule Ball with my best friend, but he hasn't asked me yet."

"Well," said Marguerite, with a smile. "It just so happens we'll be studying that today. Everyone turn to Chapter Ten in your textbooks."

After class, Daphne Greengrass stayed back to talk to the teacher. "Prof—I mean, Miss Marguerite," said Daphne. "I really liked your lecture today. I wanted to ask you a few more questions. You see, I've got a really bad crush on a guy I can't have, and I can't sleep and…I need help." She balled up her fists, her eyes squeezing shut at the force of the next words. "Please teach me how to seduce a man."

Marguerite clapped her hands, "You just said the magic words. Come, sit down." She beckoned Daphne to sit down beside her as she poured a cup of tea. Then, she cast a few quieting charms before putting away her wand. "Now, tell me everything about him."

Daphne paused, fear gripping her insides. "Do you…promise you won't tell anyone?"

"My dear," She clasped a hand to her chest. "I am a professional. Your secrets are safe with me."

And so, Daphne spent the next ten minutes unburdening herself of everything. When she was finished, Marguerite began asking questions.

"You say you've never talked to him since first year?"

Daphne thought back. "Actually, there was one time. Earlier last month, on October 3rd, he asked me what day it was. I said, "It's October 3rd."

She smiled exuberantly at the memory, and then sighed. "It's hopeless, isn't it? I've known him for five years. A plant would do better than me. He might have at least touched my leaves or…pruned them."

"Oh, it's not so bad as you think," said Marguerite, taking a firm hold of Daphne's hands. "I believe I can help you, but first I have a question for you. Are you willing to do whatever it takes?"

Daphne nodded. "Yes, I am."

"Good. Then, if you try these three techniques I'll show you, then there's an 89% chance you'll have a full conversation within two weeks. And if you're lucky," she said with a smile. "That's all you need to ask him to the Yule Ball."


"Identificus," said Harry, pointing his wand at the white stuffed bear.

The spell, instead of speaking aloud, wrote the words "white stuffed bear" on the parchment next to the number 4.

"Identificus" said Harry again, drawing his wand across an identical—but clean copy—of the sheet of numbers.

On the sheet, next to the numbers 4, 15 and 39, the words "white stuffed bear," "green stuffed bear" and "blue stuffed bear" appeared. These items, out of a list of 50, were the only ones currently in the room.

Harry briefly looked at his list of things to do. Then, he gathered together a blank piece of printer paper, a cue ball and the white stuffed bear. He assigned the word "white" a number (1) and then assigned the "white bear" the numbers (1)(2) and the "white ball" (1)(3) and the "white paper" (1)(4). Then he pointed his wand at the bear, "Identificus."

The spell made a screaming noise and the paper burst into flames.

Harry cast "Everto" and then, muttering, wrote down the results of his experiment.

He heard the door open behind him, and he scrambled to hide the evidence of his betrayal.

"Harry Potter, what are you doing?" cried Hermione, hands on her hips.

"It was just a few routine experiments, nothing groundbreaking! I promise, the spell is still completely useless."

"Well good," said Hermione. "Because if you'd actually made any progress in getting it to work, I would be very annoyed that I'd missed it."

Hermione approached the lab table. "Anyway, what did you find out?"

"I still haven't found a viable method of making a range search, which is about the only way we can use this spell practically. I did make the spell scream at me though."

Hermione chuckled, shaking her head. Harry honestly wouldn't have minded if she wanted to tease him about that—he was just happy things were back to normal between them.

"The thing is," said Harry. "We can't catalogue every single item and search by title. It would take too long, and if we need the physical presence of each item to encode it, then this spell is beyond useless. Besides, we don't even know the name of the item we're testing, all we have are descriptive details. So, I was thinking, if we do a range search on one page at a time it could help us narrow down the items we'd need to test."

"Right," said Hermione, as she scanned the paper. "Getting rid of all powders that aren't white would be a good start."

"It could cut down at least three-quarters of them," said Harry. "As long as the spell can read both object names and descriptions from the book. Which, at this point, it can't. I have a feeling it's just not smart enough."

"Not smart enough?" asked Hermione.

"The comparisons aren't exact, but we have a hash table, and we need a binary search tree," said Harry. "Uhh…I've been reading about coding lately. Thought it might help."

Harry scratched his head, trying to find the best way to explain data structures.

"Humm," said Hermione, finger to her lips. "Let me see if I remember…search trees use logarithms to sort data? Which makes it much more versatile than a hash table, which doesn't sort at all."

Harry smiled warmly. "I wouldn't exactly word it that way, but…close enough." He grabbed the cue ball, started tossing it. "A BST spell would allow us to do a range search, since we could sort by color as well as other traits. Anyway, I was going to run a few more tests, if you'd like to join me. I want to see if the spell can identify an item based on a picture, so we might need to borrow Colin's camera—"

"Harry, that's great, but you do know you have a meeting in five minutes, right?"

"Huh?"

"The Bayesian Conspiracy," said Hermione, jerking a thumb towards the door. "They were already gathering when I came in."

Harry cursed. He grabbed their current textbook from his pouch and flipped through. He'd had so much planned for this morning, and he'd thought he would have time after he finished, but then he'd had a few more ideas and then...

Yes, I know, I fell for the planning fallacy again. Ha ha, shut up brain.

"Uggh, we finished the last unit. Hermione, tell me what we're studying today."

She blinked. "Uhh…do you have anything like a backup lesson?"

"Yes, but...I was sort of dreading…alright, fine," he said with a sigh. "So it begins, then."


As far as lessons go, it wasn't the worst.

But it was cold outside, and raining, so the group was small and lethargic. Also, Harry had chosen to introduce the subject of computers, which was like the universal snooze button for wizards. What did they need typing for, when they had quills that could write and draw pictures using dictation? What was the point of email when it was 10 times more fun to send things by howler? Also, everyone seemed puzzled by the idea of dial-up.

Only Dean seemed to be bothering to take notes, and even then he was frequently distracted by everyone else's jokes.

"Hold up," said Seamus. "You mean to tell me we can't talk to it and tell it what to do?"

"Well, you can," said Harry. "But you have to type the commands in a special language called code."

"Oh, like Morse Code!" exclaimed Ernie MacMillan. "That's how Muggles communicate, we learned that in class yesterday. So, you just make the beeping sounds and it'll listen then?" His face screwed up. "It sounds like a bother, to be honest."

"No, it's…first of all, Muggles don't communicate with Morse Code anymore. We use the telephone and recently email has become popular. Second of all, code is how programmers write programs to be executed…"

"So, let me get this straight," said Blaise, his voice sardonic. "You're saying we do have to learn a new language to communicate with it? I thought you said computers were smart. Even my half-deaf Great Aunt can speak English, and she thinks Grindelwald is her boyfriend."

Harry smiled with abnormal cheerfulness and snapped his book shut. "So, we'll pick this subject up next week. Everyone, please have some snacks before you go. Any questions?"

Seamus raised his hand. "I have a question for Hermione. Is it true you're going to Hogsmeade tomorrow?"

"Oh yeah, I heard about that," said Ernie Macmillan. "You're going with Hannah and her friends from Ravenclaw, right?"

"Well…yeah," said Hermione uncertainly.

"Aww, your first proper Hogsmeade outing," said Dean Thomas.

"Don't stay out too late," said Blaise. "You might catch cold."

"And don't talk to strangers," said Seamus.

"You've been spending too much time with the Weasleys," said Hermione, and everyone chuckled.

"How about we all go?" suggested Ernie. "We can show you all the fun places. Harry, you should come too."

Hermione was starting to get a bad feeling that this was a Set Up.

"I've got plans," said Harry.

"With who, your closet?" said Blaise. "Cancel them, I'm sure it won't mind."

Hermione stood up, saying nervously. "Well boys, I thank you for your chivalry, but it's girls only. I'm afraid you're not invited."

Everyone made sad, disappointed sounds.

"Alright, but next time invite us," said Seamus. "Especially Harry. He really needs to get out more."

"Well, I'm not disagreeing," said Harry, gathering his papers. "But I do think Hermione can take care of herself. And Blaise," Harry turned and gave a smile. "What I do with my closet is my own business. Just like what you do with your right sock. But don't worry, I won't tell the left one that you're cheating."

Hermione flushed, worried that Harry's stupid temper would cause a fight to break out and she'd have to break it up.

Instead, the room exploded in laughter. Blaise gave Harry a nod, as if to say, "Touché, mate, what a well-worded insult."

Hermione shook her head, deciding that she would never understand Boy Logic.


That Saturday morning, Harry went looking for Professor Vector. He found her in the Arithmancy classroom on the seventh floor, a colorful equation suspended in front of her. Harry watched her nudge a blue decimal point over one place with her wand, muttering to herself.

"Good morning," said Harry. "Do you know anything about the wizarding equivalent of running an algorithm in logarithmic time?"

She turned toward the door, blinking at Harry. "What?"

Harry wrote a basic equation on the board in white chalk, and then an even more basic equation when she still looked confused.

"Oh!" said Professor Vector, snapping her fingers. "Your problem is contingent on the value of the numbers remaining constant."

"Well…yeah."

Vector sighed. "Arithmancy is not so simple, I'm afraid. It deals in probabilities, which means multiple variables providing different solutions. I am often quite jealous of Muggle mathematicians that know 2+2 always equals 4."

She swept a finger towards the colorful knot of equations. "This, for example, is a quarter 6, which is almost a square without the leg."

Harry examined the swirling mess of numbers, which looked nothing like a square or a leg. "What is a square, exactly?" asked Harry.

"Well, that depends on the triplet of the number 5, which is contingent on the nexus configuration."

"Alright, nevermind." If this really was wizard quantum physics, then his brain wasn't ready. He needed to be old enough to drink first. "Do you have anything that's like…maybe a sorting spell?"

"Sorting spell?" She frowned. "That's housewife magic. You'd be better off asking Flitwick for a laundry charm. At any rate, Arithmancy is more closely aligned with prophesy and predicting the future."

As he left her classroom, Harry heard Hermione's voice in his head. Well at least you didn't bite another maths teacher.

He smiled in spite of himself. What would she think of Professor Vector? He could hear himself complaining. I told you this would be a waste of time. But, I suppose we had to ask for the sake of exploring all options.

You know, said Ravenclaw. I think I rather prefer talking things over with Hermione than with myself, generally speaking. She always helps me see things in a different way, and I…kind of need that.

Harry had never met anyone, besides perhaps Professor Quirrell, who seemed to get what he was talking about without him having to water it down, or change the wording. It wasn't just because she was smart, either. He didn't know what it was, but he had a feeling that it was rare, in both the Muggle and Wizarding worlds.

He hoped she was having a good time at Hogsmeade. If dueling wasn't going to help, then he knew she needed something to lift her spirits. He wasn't sure that was something he could do for her.

Harry sighed, then checked his watch. It was time to go.

He went to see Professor Flitwick for his off-campus day pass. Walking outside past the wards, he turned himself invisible. Then, he took out his reusable portkey (expensive, but cheaper than the bus fare). A few seconds later, an invisible Harry appeared in the parking lot of a local college.

By now, he knew the routine. He ducked into a secluded location, pulled the backpack from his pouch and shouldered it. Then, turning visible, he made his way over and climbed the long flight of steps to the library. As he puffed and wheezed, he grumbled about why he'd chosen the college built on the hill—it was always a trek to get anywhere. By the time he made it to the top, he had decided it was high time he found a more convenient school.

Or you could just exercise more, said his Gryffindor side. Okay…you guys can stop laughing now.

Once inside, Harry settled into a desk and used his magically obtained student ID to get access to the computer system. Typing in his password, he logged into his email to check for new messages. There was only one, but it was from a highly regarded physicist, so he read it eagerly.

While he waited for the computer to finish loading the online database, he pulled out a few of his library books from his backpack. He also took out some crisps, since he knew he would not be back for dinner.

Spreading his study materials in front of him, Harry got to work.