You're a protagonist Harry

Chapter 22 – Enough fun and games
…

"You've had a what now?"

"An epiphany," Harry repeated as he finished tying his shoes.

"Ah… what's that?"

"A grand realization!"

"I see, I see," he said as Harry stroked his pet, drawing her from her torpor so she could follow the boys out the door and down the stairs. "Soooooo… what did you realize?"

"What I'm doing now is not going to work," he said.

"What are you doing now?"

"Not much."

"Uh huh… nope, sorry mate, ya lost me."

"Well try to keep up," he said, hopping over the rim of the portrait hole and out into the hall.

"I am keeping up," Ron insisted, "but I feel like I've missed part of this conversation."

"Could be," he was prone to talking in his head.

"Can we rewind a little bit? What is it you're doing now that isn't going to work? That's my question."

And the answer, "School."

"… you're right, I'm not keeping up."

"Well don't stop in the middle of the hallway then."

Scampering to catch up, "You wanna run this all by me again?"

"It's simple. I had a tried and true method of dealing with school before I came here. Circumstances now being what they are, I find that method to be unsustainable. Now do you understand?"

"Yeah," said Ron. "I understand you swallowed a dictionary, that or you've been snogging Hermione. Tell me that's not it. Tell me you haven't snogged the bush!"

"Overdramatic much?" Maybe it was genetic. Would certainly explain Fred and George. "Is your sister so over the top or is it just the boys?"

"Way worse," said Ron. "Mum too, come to think of it. But seriously mate, still not getting it."

And why would he? Ronald Bilius Weasley had never even met the Dursleys, never mind lived with them for over a decade.

How could he understand how little value effort had when exerted by a freak? How could he know, the only reason Harry hadn't been moved to advanced placement classes in secondary school was because his aunt and uncle thought it would be wasted on him. How could he conceive, the lie being lived had eventually become something like reality?

"In a nutshell, the world has thrown down its gauntlet, and I have accepted the challenge."

"Kay. So, what are we doing, right now?"

"Training."

"Prek!"

"Yeegh! What training? Training what?" he asked, eyeing the griffinette warily.

"Magical training."

"Oh! Well that sounds cool. You got some super cool spells we're gonna learn?"

"Save that for later," said Harry, trying not to squelch his enthusiasm. They'd be needing it, "We already have some super cool spells to work on."

"We do? Did I sleep through that class?"

"No Ron, you've only slept through history."

"Can you blame me! I always thought dead boring was just an expression."

An expression Professor Binns had taken from metaphor to literal, as it was difficult to say he'd brought it to 'life'.

"No, I'm talking about the spells we've learned in class."

"Like defense? Harry, I'll level with you. I can't understand most of what he's saying."

No one could. Quirinus Quirrell was a stuttering, muttering, wreck of a man. The overwhelming reek of garlic that always followed him didn't help. If any knowledge was being imparted to them, they weren't receiving it.

"Where are we going?"

"I set up an empty classroom for us to use," said Harry. "I figured the common room would be too distracting."

"We do live with some distracting people," Ron agreed.

That they did. And this wasn't even counting his brothers who were distraction personified.

Serena had developed a whole new level of energy since meeting Rhiannon, as if the bouncy bunny girl needed more energy. Madysonne and her CD player had proved quite distracting, especially when she started dancing around the room. But the worst of them would have to be Hermione. So nosy, so 'well meaning', so eager to tell you what you were doing wrong.

Compared to them, Seamus blowing up every tenth spell he tried was easy to ignore. He'd get his rum someday, though probably not with that spell.

The classroom he'd set up was two down from the usual Charms classroom and looked to have not been used in some years. The only surfaces not covered in dust were the ones Harry'd cleaned off. A book and a jar full of buttons sat on one such.

"Buttons? Oh, Harry, you don't mean we're gonna do that again," Ron whined.

"Don't whine."

"But we've already done this," he didn't whine, mostly.

"We did it once, in class," said Harry. "And that was with help. Think about it Ron. Toothpick to a needle. Button to a beetle. It's all simple work building on what we've already learned."

"Yeah, so, we've already learned it."

"Have we? Have we really?"

The ginger looked at him skeptically, "I can turn a button into a beetle Harry."

"You did turn a button into a beetle, once," he pointed out. "But alright, you think you can do this, prove it. Pick a button and give me a beetle."

Never one to refuse a challenge, even when he should, Ron marched up to the jar and plucked out a button. "Where'd you get these anyway?"

"From Hagrid."

"What's he got a jar full of buttons for?"

Harry shrugged, "I didn't ask." He was afraid of the answer. It wasn't a small jar. "Well, let's see it."

Taking out his wand, Ron focused on the button. It was a small wooden one with two holes and a groove around the outside. Its inner beetle must have been the elusive sort because it took him two minutes to find all the pieces and present it to Harry.

"There, see," he panted like he'd just sprinted down the hall.

Harry nodded, "Now do a different one."

"Wha! Another one."

"No," Harry corrected, "a different one. That looks like the same beetle you did last time. Now do a different one."

Ron looked at Harry shamefaced, "But—I don't—don't know any others."

"That's okay," said Harry. "That's why I brought this."

The book was hard covered but not like most in the library. Not leather bound but muggle style hard cover and newish, plain blue, with a beetle embossed on the cover under the title, The Beetle Book.

"Where'd you get this?" said Ron, skeptical of the strange looking tome.

"The library," said Harry, opening the book and paging through it. "There were several donated to the school years ago according to Madam Pince. Look here."

The inside was filled with pictures of beetles of every variety, some much bigger than any button.

"This was in the library?" Ron boggled, having never seen a muggle book and marveling at the clean lines and precise font.

"In the transfiguration section," said Harry. "There were a few others, but most of them were really old, or at least old looking."

"And you want me to do one of these?"

"All of them eventually."

"WHAT!"

"Prek!"

"Yeegh!"

"Billy, be good."

"prek…prek?"

Harry sighed and gave his repentant pet a pat. "You are such a baby."

"Harry, just how many bugs are in this book?"

"No idea," he said. "I've only skimmed it so far." He hadn't all that much time to set things up.

"And you want us to do all of them?"

"Eventually," he grinned. "I wasn't saying we should do all of them today. Relax Ron."

"Still, that's a lot of work."

"A lot of hard work," Harry said, "and we will do it. We shall be the kings of hard work."

Ron didn't seem to care for this idea, "Can't I be the king of something else, like pie?"

"No."

"Awwwww!"

Later that day… (with a snooty French accent)

"What happened to you guys?"

The 'guys' stared back woodenly, heavy black bags weighing their eyes. "We might a overdone it a little," said Harry, trying to lift his fork but finding it must have been stuck to the table. Yes, that was the only explanation for why it wouldn't go up.

"Uh huh," said Madysonne, "and what exactly, if you don't mind me asking, did you over do?"

"Beetles," Ron replied, forgoing the fork entirely and simply diving into his plate face first like a hog.

"Uh huh," she uh huh'd. "Anyone else following this cuz I'm lost."

"Perhaps," said Zuli, reaching across the table and running her hand through Harry's hair, coming out with a small green beetle.

"Oh!" Serena exclaimed. "Beetles! You guys were practicing transfiguration."

Harry nodded, nearly nodding himself right out of his seat but for a last minute save, the brief jolt of adrenaline bringing him back to life, slightly. "It's part of my new training regime. Lots of practice, isn't that what you said Serena?"

"You were listening," she squealed, ecstatic.

"But why are you so tired?" asked Dean. "We all did this in class, and we were fine."

"You did a couple," said Harry. "We did more than a couple."

"Oh yeah? How many?" demanded Seamus.

"Ron?"

"Nine… oh quit smirking Harry," the ginger grumbled through his plate.

"Why ya smirking Harry?" Madysonne smirked, an expression her face seemed overly well suited for.

"What Ron means is he did nine different beetles," Harry explained, smirking. "The number he transfigured was more, but they were the same. I did seventeen… different beetles."

"Show off."

"Where'd you find that many different beetles?" Dean asked as everyone ignored Ron.

"The Beetle Book," Harry proclaimed, except his adrenaline wore off about half way through so it came out as less of a proclamation and more of a loud belch, ending with a resonate thud as his face planted into his plate.

"Oo, that had to hurt."

"Somebody pull him out of there."

Grabbing either shoulder, Dean and Seamus pulled the incapacitated Potter out of his plate. His faithful pet did her part by licking the potatoes off his face.

"Wha! I'm uh, I'm alright. I'm alright… what were we talking about?" His blank stare only grew blanker when everyone around him laughed.

"Well, I for one applaud Harry for showing such impetus in his education," said Hermione quite seriously.

All eyes turned to the bush with a girl, but it was Harry, barely awake, who vocalized their collective consciousness. "Huh?"

"I think she's saying, good job Harry?" Serena guessed.

"Oh," Harry nodded, right back into his plate.