"The madness has got me going crazy."
Harry woke up Thursday morning with a fantastic time travel idea in the area of getting difficult math problems done faster. It absolutely positively had to be tested right away, immediately, now.
And in fact even as the thought crossed his mind he heard his own distinctive footsteps approaching, and the sound of his dresser drawer opening and closing.
After the footsteps faded away again he reached out, opened the drawer and read the contents of the paper his future self had left.
Do Notte Mine Bittecoin
There was nothing for breakfast but Frooty Moffat Loops, and they tasted strange. Were there classes Thursday? He was in too bad a mood to care.
Thursday afternoon was Broomstick Flying Lessons. The girls had started Thursday morning and were still flitting around in the sky, sidesaddle.
Harry stared at the broomsticks and thought until beads of sweat formed on his brow, trying to justify broomsticks from a design perspective. It was clearly insane. Then Madam Hooch, the instructor, explained that as usual they were all facing the wrong direction, that the bristle end went frontwise, because the twigs were all ley-line dymaxion dowsing rods that pulled the broom through the air, and well, there you go.
"Stick out your right hand over the broom, or left hand if you're left-handed," called Madam Hooch. "And say, UP!"
"What if we're ambidextrous?" pouted Harry.
"Shut—"
"UP!" everyone shouted.
The broomstick leaped eagerly into Harry's hand.
The sheer horror of being a natural at magical athletics caused him to pass out cold.
When he woke up, he found that one of Darko Malfoy's minions had pinched Neville's Idontrecall, a device that told you that you'd forgotten something but not what it was, which basically meant that it was always on and so Neville didn't really give a rat-onna-stick about it, which made Malfoy's minion really mad for some reason beyond the understanding of a supergenius, and so Harry was obliged to make use of his Time Turner and Invisibility Cloak and Stout Stick again, so that was all right too, except that a) when he picked up the Idontrecall to return it to Neville whether or not he wanted it, the device sprouted a flag reading HAIL TO THE LEGION BUT MY GOD YOU MUST HAVE BEEN A MONSTER, and b) Professor MacDoogal, who'd been scouting for potential Quidditch players and wasn't picky what house they came from, had seen him wielding his +3 chair leg, and wanted to put a clamp on his Time Turner.
"What's the problem?" he said. "It was an efficient solution!"
"Mr Potter-Evans-Verrazano–Narrows-Bridge," she said, "half the school have time turners, and if the other half find out about them, everyone will want one!"
"So?"
"For heaven's sake! You're genre savvy, surely you've read THE MAN WHO FOLDED HIMSELF?"
"My parents took it away and burned it."
She nodded thoughtfully. "Suffice it to say no one will get their homework done ever again."
And then he'd been escorted by Professor Flutterwick to the head office, because Headmaster Gormenghast wanted to see him.
"Harry," said the ancient wizard, "a little bird told me you have an Invisibility Cloak."
"Really?" said Harry.
"Yes," said the ancient wizard. "That one." He pointed to a clock on the wall. A little bird popped out of it and burst into flames. Soon the fire spread to most of the office despite the Headmaster's best containment spells, and they were forced to continue their conversation in the cloakroom.
"Phoenixes," sighed the Professor, "they make terrible pets. Harry, I have a mysterious gift for you." He pointed to the wall, where there were three doors. "It is behind one of them. Pick one."
"It makes more sense to switch after you open the door," sang Harry.
"Oh, you know that one," snarled Dumbledore pleasantly. "You are indeed puissant, you little pissant. Here."
He handed Harry a small box.
Harry opened it and found inside a tiny yellowish crystal with a spike sticking out of one side.
"What...what is this?" said Harry.
"It is...your father's stone," intoned the ancient wizard. "Keep it with you at all times."
"Why?"
"To remind yourself of something your father always said. Once you've passed a stone like that, he said, facing Voldemort is a walk in the park."
"Gotcha," said Harry.
"Now, as to this Invisibility Cloak," said Dumbledore, showing Harry his own Invisibility Cloak.
"How'd you get that?" squeaked Harry, clutching at his absent cloak. No wonder it had gotten drafty!
"I'm ALBUS FREAKING DUMBLEDORE," said Dumbledore pleasantly. "Now," he resumed, "this cloak is one of the Deathly Hallows, which is to say it's a relic so old that it dates back to the noun form of the word hallow, and I just wanted to tell you that it's of historical significance, and you should under no circumstances—"
"Unravel it and turn it into a super-suit?"
"Precisely," said Dumbledore, returning it to him. "Oh, and it's part of a tripartite set. There's also the Resurrection Stone, which is a ring that can bring back the dead—"
"No way!" said Harry.
"Way," said Dumbledore pleasantly.
"No way!" said Harry unpleasantly.
"Way," said Dumbledore pleasantly.
"NO WAY!" said Harry angrily.
"Way," said Dumbledore pleasantly.
"DEAD IS DEAD, COCKCHAFER!" roared Harry, going for his wand. His eyes crossed, focusing on the wand of elder that Dumbledore was currently pointing between them.
"This is the .44 caliber Deathstick, the most powerful wand in the world," said Dumbledore pleasantly, "It is the third and last of the Deathly Hallows, and it will blow your head clean through the factually-known-to-exist afterlife. So...are you wearing clean underwear...Harry?"
Harry coughed. "You were saying about the ring that can bring back the dead?"
"Ah, yes," said Dumbledore, putting the Elder Wand away, "if you find it, don't pick it up, it's cursed."
"Roger that," said Harry.
Dumbledore arched an eyebrow. "The thought had occurred to me, but as I say, it's cursed."
"Huh?" said Harry.
"Never mind. Now!" said Dumbledore, clapping his hands, "let us return to my desk, as there is one more artifact I have for you."
They went back into the office and Harry was surprised to find it undamaged.
"Fire is my bicce," said Dumbledore, "if you'll pardon my Anglo-Saxon." He fetched a book from one of his desk drawers. "This, Harry, is one of your mother's old coursebooks."
Harry looked at the book. It said REMEDIAL TRANSFIGURATION, and tucked in it as a bookmark was a pamphlet: Transfigurative Cosmetology That Just Might Work!
Scrawled on the pamphlet, in green ink like that had been used to write Property Of Ur Dad on his Invisibility Cloak, was a note reading Try This On Petula!
Dumbledore looked at Harry.
Harry looked at Dumbledore.
The sun set.
The moon rose.
The phoenix clock burst into flames again.
"Have you anything to say to me, Harry?" said Dumbledore, stroking his burning beard.
