A/N: The Guru, the Headmaster and Harry make some plans...and the Slytherins are introduced to one of the greatest muggle inventions of all time. More crack!fic, brief mention of m/m slash (Harry/Draco)--don't like, don't read.
Disclaimer: I own nothing--not Harry Potter, or stock in 3M, or any significant pieces of Star Wars memorabilia. I do have some really neat Star Trek collectibles, but have no rights to the franchise (drat).
There is no opinion, however absurd, which men will not readily embrace as soon as they can be brought to the conviction that it is generally adopted. - Arthur Schopenhauer
Harry Potter and the Cliche of Death--Part 2
Despite their somewhat rocky initial meeting, Headmaster Dumbledore and the Guru had reached a certain, shall we say, basic understanding of the situation.
In other words, the Guru had decided not to use the gender nullification charm on Dumbles, and Dumbles had decided to shut the frak up and not press the issue lest the Guru change his mind.
Harry Potter, for his part, was just happy that (a) the strange fat man's ire wasn't directed at him and (b) that he had really good seats for the confrontation between the two powerful figures.
The trio was still in Dumbledore's office, where the Guru was trying to come up with a workable plan for the next day or so.
"Okay, so here's the deal," he began, setting his coffee down on the edge of the Headmaster's desk. "I know all about the Horcruxes, at least in general terms. So, I think the best course of action is for us to collect them, free up the soul fragments, and then take care of Voldemort once and for all. Sound like a plan?" he asked, looking back and forth between Dumbledore and Harry.
Harry just shrugged—it sounded brilliant to him, especially since his chances for surviving his education looked to be going up by the minute—but Dumbledore frowned, choosing his words carefully.
"I think you underestimate Tom's ability to hide his horcruxes, Doctor," he said. "Certainly, if you have the power to circumvent his precautions, your assistance would be greatly appreciated, but I have devoted quite some time to the search for these objects without great success."
Now it was the Guru's turn to shrug. "Well, let's make a list, shall we? I always think better when I can see things written down in black and white. Got paper?" From his pocket he produced a muggle ink pen.
Dumbledore nodded, handing over a sheet of parchment, and offering a quill.
"No, thanks…I always have a pen, and it's been too many years since I played at calligraphy for me to even think about using a quill and ink," the Doctor said, pulling his chair closer to the desk. "Now, let's see…there's the diary—by the way, good job in the Chamber, Harry…and while I'm thinking about it, did you ever strip the basilisk down for parts and hide?—and then there's the locket…." He paused, biting his lip while Harry shook his head about the basilisk. "Okay, the locket actually won't be in the cave, Regulus got it and gave it to Kreacher, so Harry'll have to get it from Grimmauld Place," he muttered absently, ignoring the frank stare from Dumbledore. "Then there's the ring, which should be somewhere around the old Gaunt place. The cup, that'll take a trip to Gringotts…the tiara, that'll be the easiest, so might as well leave it for last…Nagini, probably have to go looking for her…and that should be it!" The Guru sat back, looking over his list, then smiled. "So, how are we going to divide this up?" he asked, looking at Dumbledore.
"I'm not certain just what it is that you are asking," Dumbledore huffed.
The Guru made a face and rolled his eyes. "Don't be dim, Albus. Obviously there's no reason for all three of us to go traipsing around together just to gather up a couple of misplaced horcruxes. So, which one do you want to go fetch while Harry and I go for the others?"
Dumbledore drew himself up. "While he is a student here, Mr. Potter's safety is my responsibility. I certainly can't justify allowing him to go haring off with an unknown person…."
"Troll. Quirrell. Basilisk. Barty, Jr. Dragon, Merpeople, portkey-trophy, and a reborn Moldy Butt. Twice." The Guru sat there, his face expressionless, his voice cold.
The Headmaster blushed, 'harrumphed' and looked away. "Yes, well, be that as it may…."
"Your record for protecting the children under your care is rather abysmal these past few years. Mine, however, is not," the large man once again interrupted the Supreme Mugwump in a voice as cold as liquid helium. "Do I really need to bring up the possession of Miss Weasley, multiple petrifications, and the death of Cedric Diggory? Shall we begin keeping score, Headmaster? Or, will you accept my word that no harm shall come to Mr. Potter while he is under my protection, and let it go at that?" Turning to the young man sitting beside him, he smiled. "Harry, I realize that you don't know me very well, but I can promise you that I'll do everything in my power to keep you safe while you're with me. Is that good enough for you?"
Harry Potter looked at the strange man who he'd just seen for the first time in his life a few hours before and made up his mind. "Yeah, it's good with me," he said, then smiled. Turning to his Headmaster, the young Gryffindor tried to explain. "I really think it'll be fine, Professor. Doc here can do some amazing things, and if he says he'll protect me, then I believe him."
Albus Dumbledore pursed his lips in displeasure, but had no choice but to nod in agreement. Certainly the man's plan sounded logical enough. "Well, then, if Harry feels that he will be adequately protected, then I suppose that I will allow it," he sighed. "So long as you clear any destinations with me prior to your leaving, of course."
"Of course," the Guru said, gracious in victory. "Now, I'd suggest that you take the ring, while Harry and I see about retrieving the Hufflepuff cup from Gringotts, as well as the Slytherin locket from Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Both of those locations are in London, so we should be able to floo there and back again without much difficulty. Plus, if we floo from Number 12 Grimmauld Place directly to Gringotts, Harry won't be exposed to any travel time on the streets. Acceptable?"
Dumbledore nodded, impressed at the sensitivity to security concerns that the man across from him displayed. "Yes, I think it will be acceptable. Of course, the only floo here at Hogwarts that you'll be able to use to access Number 12 is the one here in my office."
The Guru nodded his understanding. "As I expected…and we'll also need to return here from Gringotts, unless I miss my guess." When the Headmaster nodded once more, he continued. "Very good. Well, I would suggest that Harry and I go this afternoon, right after lunch…unless you have a class that you absolutely can't miss, Harry," he said, turning to the young man sitting beside him.
Harry smirked as he answered. "Actually, right after lunch I have Potions, so missing it won't be a hardship for me."
The Boy Who Lived was surprised when the Guru shook his head vigorously. "Oh, no! I could never allow you to ditch Potions, just to go on a mission to save the Wizarding World," he said, sarcasm dripping from every word. "Actually, I was hoping to have a chance to sit in on one of your Potions classes myself, and I think that today might just be the best time to do just that!" He grinned, then continued. "After all, we don't really know how long I'll be here, and I'd hate to miss the chance to share some of my…unique insights…into the subject. Don't you agree, Headmaster?" he asked, turning to Dumbledore with an innocent expression on his face.
"Oh, I'm sure that you have a great deal to offer," Dumbledore began, but was cut off before he could say anything more.
"Great! It's settled then! I'll sit in on Harry's Potions class right after lunch, then we'll just pop over to Grimmauld Place, then to Gringotts and be back here in time for supper. No muss, no fuss, no problems." The Guru smiled broadly, and something in his manner told the Headmaster that he wouldn't take any disagreements well.
"Well, I suppose so…but you mentioned that you wanted me to seek out another of the horcruxes. Could you tell me a bit more about just what I'm supposed to be looking for, and where you expect me to find it?" Dumbledore asked carefully.
"My dear Headmaster, nothing would give me greater pleasure! First of all, the ring you're looking for should be hidden somewhere around the old Gaunt house—Tommy Boy's mother's old family place. I presume that you can find out where that is?" When the ancient wizard nodded, the Guru beamed at him and continued. "The ring itself is a gold band with a black stone, and the stone should have a definite affinity for your wand…understand?" He smiled as understanding bloomed in Dumbledore's expression. "Exactly. I trust that you'll be able to find the stone with just that bit of information; but if not, then scan the area for a strong concentration of wards, curses and death magics. I have no idea of just what kind of traps Tom might have placed around the ring itself, but I'd strongly advise you not to put the damned thing on for any reason."
"Might I ask why not?" Dumbledore asked mildly.
"Because Tommy's almost as much of an evil bastard as I am, and I know that I'd load that particular ring up with enough nastiness to bite your arm off, if it were me." The Guru smiled as he said this, but Harry had the distinct impression that every word he was saying was nothing less than the absolute truth.
"Indeed," was all that Dumbledore said, a far-away look in his eyes.
"Mmm. At any rate, if you can just retrieve it—preferably without letting Tommy know that you've got ahold of it, bring it back here and we'll see about de-soulifying all of the things in one mass horcrux-destruction party."
"Won't Voldemort know when we start destroying parts of his soul?" Harry asked carefully.
The Guru shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe…probably…I haven't got the faintest idea. Still, I'd rather assume he will, and go ahead and gather them all up before we start messing with them, than risk him finding out, taking the ones we haven't got, and going to ground with them. I can think of considerably worse places that he could have hidden the stupid things—say, for instance, somewhere under the Arctic ice cap—and I'd rather not give him that chance. Feel me?"
Harry shrugged, not understanding the idiom but totally in agreement with the sentiment. "Sounds reasonable to me. Headmaster?" he asked, turning to the old man.
"I believe that the Doctor has raised a valid concern, Harry, and as such I find myself in agreement with his plans."
"Well, good, then. So, isn't it about lunch time? I don't know about you two, but I'm starving," the Guru smiled broadly, rising from his chair.
"A capital idea!" Dumbledore agreed, rising as well. "And, I'm sure that young Harry here is also quite hungry…he is a growing boy, after all," the Headmaster said, perhaps a bit too heartily.
Harry wasn't buying it, but he shrugged his shoulders and said "yeah" in that noncommittal way teenagers have. Standing up, he followed the Guru, who was already heading for the stairs leading out of the Headmaster's office.
"Why don't you two go on to the Great Hall," Dumbledore was saying. "I have a few minor things which I need to clear up, then I'll be right along," he said, smiling brightly.
"Of course, Headmaster," the Guru said, turning. "We'll meet you there, then," and with that, he walked briskly out of Dumbledore's office, Harry trailing close behind him.
Harry followed the older man down the stairs and out into the corridor, but waited to speak until the gargoyle had slid back into place, blocking the stairway.
"I can't believe the old coot went along with you without a bigger fuss," Harry laughed.
The Guru grinned, looking down at the smaller boy who walked beside him. "Well, I didn't really give him much of a choice, did I? Especially since I obviously know more about what's going on with the horcruxes than he does."
"Yeah, about that," Harry said, hesitatingly. "I know that you said that you come from a place where all of this is just a bunch of books, but that's still creeping me out."
"Actually, Harry, I think that's probably a normal, rational response to the situation," the fat man replied cheerfully. "I'd actually be a bit concerned about you if you didn't have some doubts, even after what you've seen and we've discussed. Still, unless things are vastly different than I expect them to be, we'll be able to use what I know to do an end run around old Moldy Shorts and his Butt Munchers. Once we get the horcruxes taken care of, I've got a few ideas about how to deal with Tommy Boy once and for all…leaving you and Draco to get on with the whole 'happily ever after' thing."
At the mention of the young Malfoy heir, Harry blushed a brilliant crimson. "Yeah, about that…is that part in the stories about me, too? Me and Draco, I mean…."
"Only in the really good ones, Harry me boy," the Doctor laughed. Then, almost to himself, "well, at least most of the really good ones that I bother to read, anyway. And, since I'm here, that means that, ipso facto, that you and Draco will indeed be an item, and get the 'happy ever after' package as part of the deal."
"Brilliant!" Harry said, his eyes shining.
And together, the pair made their way down the hallway, laughing together.
***
Lunch that day found the visitor—'call me Guru, or Doc, or whatever…I've answered to a lot of things in my long and varied career'—sitting at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall, jotting notes on a small yellow pad and occasionally pulling off one of the pages only to stick it on the table in front of him.
Harry Potter had already been sent off to the Gryffindor table, his questioning look only answered with a sly grin and a shake of the strange man's head. They were among the first people to arrive in the Hall, the food hadn't yet arrived.
Several Slytherins had decided to forego their usual seats and had moved to the opposite ends of the long table from their visitor. He had already looked up at them several times, smiling encouragingly, but hadn't done anything else except smile, then go back to his scribbling.
Draco Malfoy, the Ice Prince of Slytherin, entered the Great Hall with his usual entourage trailing behind him. His eyes immediately swept over the Gryffindor table, noting instantly that Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, was already sitting there, engrossed in a textbook. Draco couldn't help but notice that Harry was chewing on his lower lip as he studied, which made Draco want to go straight to him and chew on that lip himself. However, as he always did, he restrained himself, and never broke stride as he moved toward his accustomed seat at the Slytherin table.
Today, however, Draco found the seat across from his customary place taken up by the strange man who had made such an impressive entrance to the Hall that very morning.
His Malfoy Emotionless Mask™ firmly in place, Draco walked up (in what he sincerely hoped looked like a confident fashion) to his usual spot at the table.
"Hello, Draco, have a seat. Sorry if I've scared some of your house mates." Without looking up, the strange man addressed the de facto leader of the Snake House.
If Draco was surprised to be so addressed without even a glance at him, he hid it well. "Somehow I find that rather hard to believe," he answered coolly, sliding into place at the table gracefully.
"What? That I'm sorry I'm such a scary SOB, or that I'd actually say that I was? Sorry, that is." The Guru finally looked up from his notes and grinned. "Too bad I can't say that I'm sorry I'm such a scary SOB. Well, I could say that, but it'd be a big damn lie." Still grinning, he fluttered his eyebrows at Draco in such an obviously exaggerated way that several of the other Slytherins burst into giggles.
Draco, of course, kept his reaction to the man's antics to a single twitch of one corner of his mouth. "Oh, really?"
"Yeppers. Really. You know, the three types of lies…lies, damn lies, and statistics?"
"I'm surprised that you would use such language around children," Draco ventured, trying to take back control of the conversation (and working hard to ignore the crack about statistics, which he didn't recognize).
The fat man shrugged. "Normally, I wouldn't, but these are Slytherins. If they haven't heard these words already, then it's high time that they did…don't you agree?"
Draco found himself smiling in spite of himself. "I suppose that's true," he ventured.
"Of course it is. Now, tell the rest of them that you've cowed me sufficiently so that I won't be turning them into newts until after pudding is served, so they can have some lunch." With a snort, he went back to scribbling on his note pad, tearing off one more of the small yellow things with a flourish and sticking it to the table in front of him before starting on the next one.
Some of the older Slytherins—mostly those who had stood near enough to hear the exchange between the strange man and their leader—began taking their seats. Of course, being Slytherins, most of these seats somehow managed to be some distance from the source of their anxiety. It wasn't until a young girl, obviously a firstie, came up shyly to the man that any of them dared to approach him directly.
Carefully (and looking ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble), the firstie cleared her throat before reaching out to gently tap on the Guru's arm.
"Excuse me…Mr. Doctor Guru, sir?" she asked, barely above a whisper.
Slowly, so as not to frighten the child, the Guru turned to her, a gentle smile on his face. "Yes, Miss? May I help you?"
Blushing, she nodded. "Could…could you show me the sticking charm you're using on those notes? I can see them stuck to the table," she said, with a look at the little pieces of yellow paper that were indeed stuck to the table along one side, the other ends moving gently in the air currents, "but you're not using a wand or saying a spell." She looked at him hopefully, her eyes large in her smallish face.
"That's because I'm not using any magic on the notes…they come that way, see?" the Guru said, pulling off the topmost paper from the small pad. "They have a special glue on them that's not terribly sticky…just enough to hold it in place, but not too strong to keep it stuck when you want to move it. See?" he said, sticking the paper to his own forehead and grinning, before pulling it off again.
The firstie's eyes became comically wide as she gasped. "But…doesn't it hurt?" she breathed.
"Nah, not at all. Here, you try," the man said, handing her the note that was now stuck to his fingers.
Carefully, the young girl reached out and took the note from him, then tested the stickiness on her own hand.
"It just sticks, then pulls off!" she said, astonished. Then, she looked at the still-smiling man and grinned hugely. "Brilliant! But I don't feel any magic on it…could you teach me the charm for this? Please?" she amended, remembering her manners at the last second.
The fat man shook his head, his face falling into a comic frown. "Nope, sorry, can't do that," he said, then laughed. "It's not a charm, they come from the factory that way." At her confused look, he looked at her carefully. "Let me guess…pureblood, right?" When the girl nodded, he sighed. "Well, okay, then. Brace yourself," he said, well aware that their conversation was being very closely followed by almost everyone in Slytherin. Leaning forward, he waved the young girl closer before saying in a stage whisper "it's a muggle invention", in the same tone he would have used to describe some particularly vile perversion.
"It's…muggle?" the little girl asked, then looked at the piece of paper still stuck to her hand as if it had suddenly acquired a coating of dung.
"Yeppers, sho 'nuff," the Guru smiled, then said, his voice a bit cold. "It's still just as brilliant as it was when you thought it was magical, isn't it?"
"I…well," the girl stammered, then looked away, blushing.
"Okay, I see that we all need to have a little conversation, right now," the fat man said, frowning. "What's your name, girl?" he demanded.
The little girl's head snapped around, then just as quickly she went back to studying something on the wall which was obviously terribly interesting. "Ellsbeth Loxley," she said, her voice clipped.
"Well, Miss Ellsbeth Loxley, come here, sit down and let's talk," the man said, his tone making it a command more than his words. "Look, I don't know what you've been told about muggle things, but I can make a reasonably good guess, just based on your reaction to the posty-note. Muggle things are supposed to be inferior in every way, am I right?"
Ashley nodded, but sat down beside the Guru anyway, smoothing out her robes as she sat in a way that told him that the gesture was automatic for her. Uh-huh, robe wearer all her life, he thought. This won't be an easy sell.
"I guess you've already figured out just how useful notes like this can be, right?" he asked. Then, without waiting for her, he went on to answer his own question. "They are some of the most useful things I've even run across, especially for studying or making quick notes. You can use them to flag important parts of books, or stick a note up where you can't loose it, like this," he said, sticking a note to the girl's sleeve with a grin, "or even this," with a quick movement, he reached behind him and stuck a note on the chest of the boy who was sitting on his other side.
"Hey!" Blaise Zabini objected, when the bright yellow note stuck to his robe.
"Suck it up, Snake Boy," the Guru chucked over his shoulder, not reacting beyond a mock-glare when Blaise, snickering, stuck the note to his back in retaliation. Turning his attention back to young Ashley, he went on. "Funny story, actually. The man who developed this particular glue was told by his supervisor that it was useless. After all, who wants a glue that doesn't really hold?" He snorted. "For years, this product was Minnesota Mining and Manufacturing's biggest money-maker—may still be, for all I know. Just goes to show you that sometimes the people above you don't know what they're talking about."
"But…it's muggle," Ashley said, her voice small.
"So?" the Guru asked calmly.
"But…it's muggle," Ashley went on, close to tears.
"So am I," the older man said. "Does it matter?" he asked, ignoring the gasps coming from all around him.
"But…we saw you…you can't be a muggle," the young girl said, confused.
"Not here, no, but I assure you, back at home where I come from, the only magic I routinely work these days is at a keyboard." He grinned, then turned as the table filled up with food. "Oh, cool! Let's eat. Somebody pass me the mashed taters…."
***
That lunch would later be remembered by the Slytherins as one of the strangest that they had ever had at Hogwarts. The fat man in their midst had somehow managed to work his way through three helpings of Hogwarts fare, while keeping up a running discussion on muggles, magic, something called 'technology', something else called 'fan fiction', and the inevitable Star Trek vs. Star Wars debate. Unfortunately, the Slytherins had only the vaguest notion of what Star Trek or Star Wars was, which gave the Guru the perfect excuse to drag in muggle-borns from the other Houses and allowed to Guru to expound upon the vast superiority of Star Trek over Star Wars—especially the remastered versions of the trilogy.
"…and don't get me started on Jar-Jar Binks," the Guru was saying, then abruptly caught himself.
"Wait a minute…Draco, this is your sixth year, right?" he asked urgently.
Draco's eyes went wide for a moment before he brought his features back under control. "Yes, that's correct. Why?" he asked carefully.
The Guru beamed. "Because you poor unfortunates don't have any idea what's coming, do you?" Without waiting for an answer, he went on, laughing. "Oh, my poor babies…you've got three more years before you know the true meaning of horror! You have yet to experience the Gungan Rasta from outer space!" He was laughing so hard by this time that he almost fell off the bench.
Around him, the students could only look at one another and shrug in confusion. Fortunately for them all, the Doctor quickly calmed himself.
"Oh, my stars and garters…sorry about that, kids. It's just that I suddenly realized what year it is here." Shaking his head, he visibly put the thought aside. Then, to himself, "actually, if I popped over to the Skywalker Ranch and did an emergency lobotomy on Lucas for the good of all mankind…no, no, one story arc at a time, fat boy, one arc at a time." He shook his head firmly, then looked up at the students around him and smiled brightly. "Just a wandering thought, never mind, moving right along…now where were we?"
"Actually, it's almost time for our next class," Draco said, rising.
"Oh, really? And would that just happen to be Double Potions with the Gryffindors?" the Guru said, a smile growing on his face.
"Yes, actually…why?" Pansy Parkinson wanted to know.
"Oh, goody," was all that the Guru said…then began chuckling evilly.
A/N: okay, it's short, but the best I could do for now. I am working on another couple of fics (including the sequel to One Wizarding Summer), but my fanfics are having to be fitted into the cracks around Real Life projects. *sigh* Sorry.... Thanks to all of you who have messaged me asking for another post, this little bit of fluff is for all of you. :)
Next Chapter: Snape vs. the Guru. Expect fireworks. Doc doesn't intimidate easily.