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Harry looked around the sleeping area and was happy to see that besides Goldstein's, the beds were empty. That would save him the trouble of isolating Goldstein's area so they could have a friendly chat.
In fact, a large part of Harry's mind was asking why it was necessary to speak to Goldstein. Their business had been concluded, and they should only have further interaction if the boy decided he wanted to make a new deal tomorrow.
As Harry watched Goldstein rummage through his trunk for what seemed to be a tattered book, he quickly cast a mild confundus charm over the doorway. Just in case anybody suddenly decided to visit.
"Hello, Anthony."
Harry didn't hide his amusement when Goldstein shrieked and almost tripped over his own feet in his attempt to turn around. He couldn't pretend anymore that he was here to find Thompson's bed. Harry knew it would be easy to do that without Goldstein's unwilling help.
The only point in talking to Goldstein was to bask in the boy's fear. It was a petty thing to do, but Harry didn't shy away from that label. Being petty was better than being sadistic. An odd saying that Harry picked up over the years in Slytherin.
Besides, after Harry's terrible, horrible, no-good day, he deserved to take some pleasure in the small things. Goldstein only had himself to blame for his stupid attempt to break the contract.
"P-Potter! How'd you get in here?!"
"Well, the riddle was rather easy today. Can't blame me if the security is poor, can you?"
Harry raised an eyebrow when it seemed like Goldstein was getting ready to fight. That wasn't exactly the reaction he was hoping for, to be honest.
"I'm not going to be pushed around by you! Don't think of getting anything else from me!"
"Well, that was rude," Harry muttered softly, but it was loud enough for Goldstein to hear him. He had to make a quick change of plans from the unexpected resistance. If Harry couldn't enjoy the boy cowering, then stressing him out would have to do.
"I was going to give you a friendly warning about Ms. Patil, but I can see when I'm not appreciated."
Harry made to turn around as if he was going to leave, eyes glinting in satisfaction when Goldstein stopped him.
"Wait! What's wrong with Padma? If you do anything to her, I swear I'll tell the professors! Even if your contract kills me!"
"Truly touching. Ms. Patil is a lucky witch to have someone so brave looking after her," Harry said sincerely, though there was a mocking tone barely hidden underneath. "However, you should know that another client came to me, asking after Ms. Patil. Do with that information what you will."
"What?! Who is it?!"
Harry, wanting to be as dramatic as possible, walked all the way to the entrance before turning back to look at Goldstein. The fighting mood that the Ravenclaw had possessed had been replaced with nervous restlessness.
"You know I can't tell you that, Anthony. Confidentiality and all, I'm sure you understand."
"I'll do it!"
"Sorry? Do what exactly?" Harry almost felt bad about what he was doing. Almost.
"Your damned contract! I'll do it. Help me with Padma."
"Well, that's a surprise," Harry gave Goldstein an exaggeratedly puzzled look, "I, of course, will be more than happy to make a deal with you tomorrow."
Without giving Goldstein a chance to argue, Harry left as he discreetly cast a spell to make the boy quicker to anger. He slipped his cloak back on and took down the confundus charm just in time to hear Goldstein's yell.
"Damn it!"
Harry tried not to make it a habit to mislead his clients, or potential client in Goldstein's case. However, as mentioned before, he was a wizard that was proud to be petty. Technically, Harry hadn't lied about someone being interested in Patil, but it wasn't the Patil in Ravenclaw that he was talking about.
It really was Goldstein's fault if he didn't bother to clarify with Harry about that.
Harry's eyes darted to the other rooms and noted who walked out to see the commotion. He hadn't been counting on it, but he had hoped that Goldstein would do precisely this so he could easily sniff out Thompson's room.
It let Harry justify that prodding Goldstein where it hurts had a practical reason… if he ignored the plethora of ways to get the same thing done without being a petty arse.
Harry's eyes stopped searching when he noticed the mousy brown hair of his target. He quickly walked to her, smoothly dodging the students wandering toward Goldstein's room, and snuck inside before Thompson could close the door.
It was markedly different from what Goldstein and his roommates shared. The most significant difference was that Thompson didn't seem to have any roommates. Seeing four empty beds without any personal decorations was an odd sight.
Harry turned to watch Thompson gently close the door before sitting on the bed. He waited for a few seconds, but when she didn't seem to be in a hurry to do much of anything, he figured he might as well move closer.
"Why do you always do this?"
It was said in a whisper, one that Harry would have no hope of hearing in normal circumstances, but in the quietness of this room, it might have well had a sonorous charm applied to it.
"All you had to do was leave it alone this year."
Harry was starting to think that his invisibility cloak wasn't all it was cracked up to be. However, that was something to worry about later since a dangerous witch knew he was in the room with her. He palmed his wand and prepared himself for an impromptu duel. Harry only used the Room to practice in the past, so going against an actual witch would be a true test.
"Keep it together, Emma. Control yourself."
Harry was left staring at Thompson with his wand uselessly in his hand. Of course, she was talking to herself. Lovegood had twisted his mind into believing that his cloak was easily countered, but that only applied when the tiny blonde girl was involved.
Now Harry was curious about what else Thompson would say. There should be some rather interesting revelations with what she had been up to the past few years. That was his hope since it seemed Thompson had no intention of going to sleep anytime soon.
Unfortunately for Harry's hopes, Thompson didn't speak in whole sentences, and the little she did say didn't have much detail or context. It was no wonder she was off her rockers. Harry would be the same if he talked to himself like she does.
Hours passed as Harry patiently waited for Thompson to doze off. There were some magical options that were available to speed up the process, but the risk wasn't worth it. Especially since Harry didn't know what a mind-altering scent would do for someone holding on to sanity by a thread.
When Harry heard soft breaths accompanied by the gentle rise and fall of Thompson's chest, he slowly moved closer until he stood right next to her bed and confirmed that she really was asleep.
The next part would be tricky.
Harry warily took the wooden box he pulled from his trunk and held it as far away from his body as he could. It would make no difference with how it would affect Harry, but it was an automatic reaction from knowing what it could do.
It had made Harry, someone who cherished his life, think of alarmingly depressing thoughts and almost made him lose the will to do much of anything. He had been living in hell for a few weeks before he escaped to the Room for a few days, suspecting that someone had sabotaged him.
Turned out that Harry was right. However, that someone happened to be himself.
He had naively brought out an item from the Room of Lost Things because it looked interesting. If Harry had lost his life because of that, he was sure he would be haunting the halls of Hogwarts from being unable to accept such a ridiculous ending.
The smooth, black stone that seemed to absorb all the light around it was called the Sorrow Stone, as Harry eventually found out. It was a banned object with all the worst effects of dementors. It had been widely used by the Ministry before Azkaban officially became the wizarding prison.
As assumed by the effects, the Stone was used for torture and interrogation until some poor sod's mind was broken before they realized he was innocent. It was more surprising to Harry that the Sorrow Stone had been used for over a hundred years without anything similar happening much earlier.
With the state of wizarding society back then, Harry assumed that it had, but the mishaps were swept under the rug. The poor sod whose mind had been broken happened to be a pureblood, so that must have been a factor as to why it was in the official records.
When Harry opened the protective box, a mild chill ran over his skin, raising the hairs on his arms even though it was impossible for it to affect him this quickly. Just the memory of how colorless the world seemed to be after being in the Sorrow Stone's presence was enough for Harry to fidget nervously.
Harry did his best to ignore the Stone and cast a few spells to isolate Thompson from any sounds beyond her bed. With her settled, he walked to the wall near her dresser and drew a circle with his wand, creating a shallow hole just big enough to fit the Sorrow Stone.
Harry levitated the small black stone and carefully positioned it inside the newly created space before repairing the wall's surface. He glanced at Thompson and couldn't help but be curious about how she would react.
Going by his own experience, Harry would give her three days before something broke inside her. That was why he needed to come back tomorrow night and take it away. Greengrass wanted Thompson to experience what her little sister did, and ending the punishment quickly wasn't what the contract called for.
Harry almost felt pity at the seesaw of emotions Thompson would experience, but who told her to be insane enough to use blood magic on a Greengrass of all people.
With his job done for tonight, Harry silently left the room after dropping the spells he put around Thompson's bed.
The walk to the exit was much quieter, with everyone already in their beds. Harry didn't expect anyone to be in the common room, which was why he frowned at seeing Lovegood sitting on the couch near the fireplace.
She had The Quibbler opened, holding it far too close to her face as she read it with a smile. Harry debated if saying farewell was worth his time, but the option was quickly taken away from him.
"Oh, hello. Are you finished?"
Harry's lips twitched when Lovegood stared directly at him. He hesitated, glancing at the stairs leading to the Ravenclaw rooms before pulling off his cloak.
"I am," Harry confirmed as he moved to take a seat next to Lovegood, "Thanks again for keeping this between us."
"I made a promise, Harry Potter," Luna tilted her head slightly, "We should keep our promises. Don't you think so?"
Harry shifted on the couch uncomfortably, feeling like he was being undressed under her gaze. He wasn't the best occlumens, but his shields hadn't been probed unless Lovegood had mastered the mind arts to an unbelievable degree.
"Why are you still down here?" Harry abruptly switched the subject.
Luna stared at her bare feet and wriggled her toes. "I'm waiting for my shoes to come back. It's taking longer than expected."
Harry followed her line of sight and joined in on her staring. It was telling that he didn't bother to notice that Lovegood had no shoes on. What would seem odd with anyone else seemed normal for her.
"I see… and where did your shoes go?"
"A boy wanted to borrow them. I'm not sure why, though. His feet are much bigger than mine."
Harry sat back as Lovegood went back to her reading. He wondered if she really was that gullible. It was almost a paradox with how perceptive she seemed about the things he did.
"Does this happen often?"
"Of course not. It would be strange if he kept borrowing more shoes, wouldn't it?"
Harry opened his mouth to rephrase himself before shutting it without making a sound. Lovegood could handle herself. There was no need to poke about in her business unless she asked him to.
"I suppose you're right. I'll leave you to your reading, then. It's far past my bedtime, I'm afraid." Harry said apologetically as he stood up.
"Good night, Harry Potter."
Harry threw his cloak over his head and headed out of the Ravenclaw common. He realized that his talks with Lovegood would become far more common because of Thompson. Harry had been trying to find a reason to make that happen without spooking the far-too-perceptive blonde, and it had just fallen in his lap.
It made him feel rather thankful to Emma Thompson. Harry decided to reward her with a quicker end to the coming suffering than he originally planned. Shortening it by a week or two should be enough to show his appreciation.
Far too much happened on the first day, making it seem like weeks had passed instead. Harry would relish the chance to end it with a restful night's sleep.
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