OFFICIAL REPORT ON HARRY POTTER FROM OPERATIVE ECHIDNA
Harry Potter has distinguished himself over the last few months as being simultaneously one of the oddest and most normal students at Hogwarts. He continuously defies expectations placed upon him as the Boy Who Lived, as the prophesized savior of the magical world. He doesn't pay attention in his classes, he has a meme ready at the drop of a hat for any given social occasion, and very heavy hints just fly right past him. For example, I've been hinting for months about the Philosopher's Stone being hidden in Hogwarts. He has, somehow without a trace of irony, decided that a philosopher got stoned and died in the third floor corridor area, which has been, in his estimation, turned into a memorial area for that philosopher dying a very painful death. I would ordinarily suspect him of lying, but Harry doesn't seem to have a dishonest bone in his body and considers lying to be "cringe."
Despite this, Harry's eccentricity seems to be par the course for Generation Alpha and he seems to be quite the exemplar of what his Muggle peers are. Most Muggleborns drop many of their mannerisms and subsume themselves, to a greater or lesser extent, into magical culture, but Harry seems a bit too oblivious to realize a magical culture exists.
Harry's overriding ambition at present appears to be redeeming Slytherin's reputation, despite the fact his parents' murderer was a Slytherin. When I asked him why, he responded, and I quote, "Because snakes are based, Hagrid. Based." It would have been very helpful if someone could have given me a comprehensive list of modern day slang, because sometimes speaking to Harry makes me think he's speaking in a foreign language, and I don't mean Parseltongue.
Harry's blog continues to be an issue of concern and bewilderment among his peers, but more of an asset for us than we'd even heretofore suspected. Electronics have long been known to malfunction around areas of high magical output (though it takes a concentrated group of mages to generate the effect), but Harry's mobile works perfectly fine without any apparent alternations. Attempts to duplicate this effect have met with abysmal failure (see the attached requisition form for another mobile from Q-division). Furthermore, Harry seems to refuse to believe said electronic issues exist. It is my hypothesis that Harry's belief that his mobile should work is making it work through use of unconscious magic. This is a clear sign of Harry's power and one that, if cultivated, could have potentially enormous consequences.
Harry is considered to be one of the most popular students in school. Unsurprisingly, but somewhat disturbingly, some older students have been trying to get him interested in them romantically. This, as you may well suspect, is going straight over Harry's head. He is of an age where this is typical, but I believe this obliviousness will probably persist well into his teenage years, unless of course Hermione Granger gets her act together and acts on her clear crush. Excuse me for that little tangent there. You can't work at a school without being obsessed with gossip to a greater or lesser extent.
With the help of an older student, Harry has been able to magically project images from his mobile and has engineered an unofficial weekly movie night which is popular across all houses. By so enthusiastically embracing Muggle culture, Harry has been making significant progress in his goal of shedding Slytherin's foul reputation as blood supremacists. However, not all of the effects have been positive. After showing the movie Alien, xenomorph boggarts have been occasionally spotted slithering around the castle. This thoroughly bewildered the teachers and even got them to send in a representative from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical creatures, who promptly diagnosed the xenomorphs as boggarts and chastised the staff for wasting his valuable time.
Harry also seems to be convinced Colm O'Neill is evil or at least not who he says he is. While his evidence for the former is, in my professional opinion, flimsy, there may be some merit to the latter argument, because all of O'Neill's references do not appear to exist and there are no records of a pureblooded magical Irish family by the name of O'Neill. It is possible that O'Neill may be interested in stealing the Philosopher's Stone, because he has been spotted on the third floor supposedly testing the defenses. Dumbledore says he authorized such a test, but Dumbledore's mental state has deteriorated to the point where I simply cannot trust him to know the truth of this matter. For now, I am making sure to watch O'Neill closely.
Harry's rivalry with Draco Malfoy has appeared to have abated since Draco's decisive defeat in a duel with Harry. Harry is not the type to concern himself with people he doesn't like unless they're causing harm to other people. He's very much the out of sight, out of mind type. As for Draco, he seems to be rather engrossed in his studies, perhaps to the detriment of his health. He spends a significant taking notes inside a book and often looks pale and sickly these days whenever he's reading it. Either way, a quiet Draco is a more predictable Harry, and with that boy, I'll take whatever predictability I can get by any means necessary.
All in all, Harry could be a useful asset in the future, but only if managed with extreme delicacy. He values his freedom and forcing him into a role could backfire spectacularly. At this point, I don't see any advantage to actively recruiting him, but great care must be taken to avoid alienating him anyway, as his resourcefulness and sheer stubbornness could make him a very dangerous enemy.
Remus Lupin
C/O: The Arctic Hotel, Nuuk, Greenland
Hello Remus, old chap, this is your old friend Arthur Weasley! You're a jolly hard man to track down. I had to call in at least twenty favors spread out through Ministries in fourteen countries. Finally, a friend at the Danish Ministry let me know of a werewolf working as a docent at a Muggle history museum in Greenland. And here we are!
I'm writing you because my son Ron has become best friends with Harry Potter. Harry is a very good, if strange, boy who's made significant waves since arriving at Hogwarts. He, along with Ron and a Muggleborn named Hermione Granger, were all sorted into Slytherin and have made it their personal mission to redeem the house's reputation. Harry certainly has cunning and, presumably, ambition in spades, but he's also a very sweet, caring boy who's willing to do anything to defend the weak. He thoroughly bested Lucius Malfoy's son in a duel despite being only allowed to use Muggle weapons.
However, I am very concerned about his home life. At this point, I'm working alongside Hermione's parents – absolutely lovely people – to ascertain the exact circumstances, so I'd rather not say anything specific until I can confirm it. I also don't want to divulge any information to you without running it by Harry first. I don't believe he's in imminent danger, but I don't believe his relatives – Lily's sister Petunia and her husband Vernon – love him. We're currently working on trying to remove Harry from their custody, but progress has been slow going due to a variety of legal roadblocks.
I was wondering if you could write Harry and try to get to know him. He's a mostly well adjusted young man, if a little off center at times, but I feel he could benefit from having a loving adult presence in his life. I know you're wary of spending time in the magical world due to its pervasive prejudice, but perhaps I could persuade you to at least try to have some outings with him in the Muggle world over the summer. Hopefully, custody will be transferred by that point.
I'm glad you've managed to get back on your feet after the…difficult few years you had in the aftermath of the Potters' deaths. I don't think I could give up magic to lead a purely Muggle existence, but then again, I'm not a werewolf. As you well recall, our family owes you much, so if you need a favor from us, you only have to ask.
Warm regards,
Arthur Weasley
Hello, Arthur! Talk about a blast from the past. Yes, it has been a while. I keep trying to persuade myself to return to Britain, but there are so many bad memories there and I'm worried it might lead to a relapse if I return. Nonetheless, for Harry's sake, I'm willing to give it a try.
I find it puzzling that Petunia is mistreating Harry. Lily always spoke extremely highly of her sister, especially her strong moral fiber and her willingness to keep to her values regardless of how unpopular they were. I'm not doubting you in the slightest, to be absolutely clear. If Harry says Petunia is an unfit guardian, I trust his judgment. It just seems rather at odds with how Lily presented Petunia. Is it possible Vernon could be responsible here and Petunia is being coerced by him somehow?
No, that's probably paranoia. I've struggled with it over the years. I've gotten a therapist to help me with my issues, but since the only therapist around here is Muggle, I've struggled converting my issues to Muggle ones. I've not been able to talk about my lycanthropy with her, though I have been able to tell her that my best friend betrayed another one of my best friends to a criminal gang and killed another. She says it's not my fault, and some days I believe her. Other days not so much. On the bright side, last week marks five years of sobriety for me!
Please let me know if anything further develops with Harry.
Remus
I got a letter out of the blue from Remus Lupin, one of my father's best friends. Remember that photograph I showed of the friends? He was the bookish man. Lupin's very cagy about what happened to the others, but he told me the long haired man (Sirius Black) is in prison and the other man (Peter Pettigrew) is dead. Lupin hid exactly what Black did and how Pettigrew died, probably because he's an adult and adults have this thing about hiding information from children because they think their tiny little brains can't handle it.
Aside from that, Lupin seems a nice enough person. According to him – and again, he's pretty cagy about this – he was in a bad place after my parents died and wasn't able to take me in. He also is aware something is up with the Dursleys, because he apologized for leaving me with them. According to him, Mum always had nice things to say about her sister, so he had no clue she was…well, Petunia. I don't know if he's lying or not from a letter. Still, I'll give him a chance if we manage to meet in the summer.
I don't blame Lupin for not wanting to provide me with details about Dad's friends – it's clearly a very sore topic for him – but I still wanted to know the answers. So I charged forward to the library! Oh, listen to me, I'm starting to sound like Hermione. The librarian, Madam Pince, and I don't get along. But then again, Pince seems to hate everyone. Ooh, picture! We need a picture!
[Image description: A vast, cavernous space filled with shelves and eerily reminiscent of the Bodleian library in Oxford.]
My goal? Find whatever records I could of Mum and Dad. And their friends, I suppose, but Mum and Dad were my top priorities. Despite Pince hating me, she must have had a soft spot for my parents, because she used a spell to summon a variety of old copies of the Daily Prophet to one of the tables. Then she threatened to use my skin for binding books (which is actually a thing according to Hermione, though of course they used skin from corpses) if I so much as creased a page, so that's Pince back to normal right there.
At the time of their deaths Mum and Dad were just 21. Yes, you read that right. I've lived more than half of their lifespan. I had hoped desperately it was a typo, but it wasn't. All that time wasted. All those years we could have had together, taken by that madman Voldemort. And I still don't understand why. Why kill such young people? Why try to kill me? They weren't particularly important individuals in the grand scheme of things. They'd barely graduated. Dad was an Auror, sure, but just a recruit. Mum didn't even have a job by the looks of it, though she had just filed paperwork to run for the Wizengamot, the magical parliament.
Mum certainly had some radical beliefs, sure. She believed mages should reveal themselves to Muggles, not to rule them as some had wanted, so we could all be one people and use our respective knowledge to help one another. She thought it was wrong and depraved mages used their power on unsuspecting Muggles, wiping their memories at will in order to preserve the status quo. She wanted to end the culture of separation instantly and devote as many resources as we could towards solving the problems that plague this world.
I'm not sure if I agree. I like the idea in theory. In practice, Muggle ignorance and hatred could have devastating consequences. Islington-Lennox doesn't strike me as a man who would like to see a bunch of people with magical powers suddenly popping up all over the country. But Mum was adamant that while there'd be some unfortunate consequences, she genuinely believed people would be able to come together and work alongside their fellow man for the good of humanity.
How wonderfully ironic that it was her own sister that made it so I could not believe that, even though I so desperately wanted to.
This did not, however, explain why Voldemort had targeted her. Yes, she had controversial viewpoints, but they were a threat to the Ministry, not him. The smart move would have been to just let her continue agitating. That's the Slytherin thing to do and if there's one thing Voldemort and I have in common, it's that Slytherin is at the core of who we are, even if he used his cunning and ambition in the service of evil.
If I didn't know any better, I would have thought Mum and Dad's death was an assassination by the Ministry. And if Voldemort didn't disappear on that very day, I would have gone with that theory. But Voldemort disappearing on the same day I survived the Killing Curse was too much of a coincidence to be ignored.
Mum wrote a lot of letters to the editor of the Daily Prophet, trying to persuade people of her viewpoints. But eventually, they must have gotten orders to distort her message, because Mum's so-called letters started calling for things like Dementors being used on "deviant members of society" and magical Britain uniting with its Muggle counterpart to "subjugate the lesser races." It was a slow, insidious transition, but I caught it, and I'm eleven, so I'm pretty sure everyone else would have too. It made my blood boil to see my mother's legacy being reduced to a petty hatchet job.
On the bright side…well, sort of…I did find out what Black did and how Pettigrew died. Black betrayed my parents and murdered Pettigrew. Which is…really something. In that moment, I could understand why Lupin had kept it from me. Would Ron or Hermione ever do that to me, I feared in one moment of weakness? But an instant later, I answered myself. Of course they wouldn't. They had an opportunity to betray me to the headmaster and they didn't take it.
In fact, we've been having a lark feeding false information to Dumbledore. Apparently I have a harem of both genders of around thirty people spread out around all the houses, including some of the teachers. (But not O'Neill, that fiend. I put my foot down there.) I'm also the Heir of Hogwarts and the reincarnation of Merlin and the only one capable of pulling the sword from the Stone. Hilariously (and disturbingly), Dumbledore's been falling for all of this hook line and sinker. But on the bright side, Hermione tells me that we can launder the money Dumbledore's been taking from my vault so I don't have to pay taxes on it!
And, yes, Hermione's parents apparently taught her the ins and outs of money laundering, purely theoretically, I hasten to add in case anyone from Scotland Yard is reading this. Hermione's parents are just the best people ever, but they're undeniably strange.
Back to more Sirius matters. Ha, see what I did there? Truly I am a comedian of unparalleled skill. For the life of me, I don't understand why Black betrayed my parents. Or murdered Pettigrew. Or 13 Muggles alongside him. (I do, unfortunately, understand why those Muggles were just mentioned as an afterthought, and I don't like it at all.) And I couldn't find any mention of Black's trial, which might have cleared things out. But then again, I asked for information on my parents, not Black. Maybe I'd come back to the library one day to figure it out, but for now, I'd had enough of walking down memory lane.
Professor Sinistra accompanied me to talk to Dumbledore about putting on a production of the Tempest. I was glad she was with me, because it was a very strange conversation and I have a hunch it would have gone a lot worse if I'd been alone with him.
"It's nice to meet you, headmaster," I said politely. I didn't want to make an enemy out of Dumbledore, even though he was clearly off his rocker and had some weird plan centered on me. If there was one thing I learned from reading accounts of the war, it was that Dumbledore made Gandalf look like an amateur by comparison. An army of sixty Death Eaters had once tried to kill them; he'd sent them packing without even needing to kill any of them or taking a scratch. "I'm Harry Potter. Though I suppose you know that already."
"My boy," he said in a sad, mournful tone. I felt a sudden stab of pity for him and I wasn't entirely sure why. He didn't look like he had all of his marbles. "My boy, my boy, my boy," he repeated as if he was stuck on some sort of loop.
Professor Sinistra cleared her throat pointedly. This was probably not the first time she's heard him do this. "Ah, yes, thank you, Aurora," Dumbledore said serenely. "We meet again, Harry. Would you care for a lemon drop?" He held out a tray which was entirely empty.
"Yes?" I said tentatively, wondering what, precisely, the correct answer was. Even Professor Sinistra looked entirely weirded out.
"Very good, Harry," Dumbledore said with a wide smile. "So what brings you to my domain?"
I was taken aback, expecting him to ramble further, but I launched into my spiel anyway. Ron and Hermione had been helping me perfect it over the last few weeks. I told him about how I wanted to introduce people at Hogwarts to a bit of Muggle culture so they could see we weren't really all that different. I told him about how Professor Sinistra would be keeping a close watch over everyone so there wouldn't be a repeat of the last stage production. I told him about how I, personally, believed it would be for the greater good if he gave his stamp of approval. From reading the Hogwarts Gazette (lovely paper, loads better than the Daily Prophet), I knew Dumbledore loved talking about the greater good.
Dumbledore fixed me with a piercing stare. "My boy, I am disappointed in you. Do you not understand that the greater good was the motto of the penultimate dark lord? Only a villain would use it."
I blinked. "Headmaster, you yourself were quoted using it in the school paper."
Dumbledore's face turned thunderous. "I was misquoted! The greater good demands no one use the term the greater good any longer!" He suddenly looked plaintive. "Do tell me you understand, my dear boy."
"I…understand?" I lied through my teeth.
Dumbledore gave a genial smile. "Superlative. Well, James, it's nice to see you taking an interest in an extracurricular activity that isn't Quidditch." He gave me a conspiratorial wink. "Perhaps this will help you in capturing the heart of young Miss Evans, no?"
Oh my God was that my Mum?! I barely restrained myself from hoping lightning would come from the sky and strike me down, but only because I didn't want to take the chance of it actually happening. "Sir, can I go now?"
Dumbledore scowled at me. "Not just yet, Harry." Well, at least we were back to him talking to the right person. "I was very disappointed when you were sorted into Slytherin."
I just sat there calmly, waiting for him to go on and say something else. Maybe someone else would have reacted – Ron sure would have; sorry, mate – but I've gotten used to letting unfair comments slide right off me like water slides off a duck. "That doesn't bother you?" Dumbledore went on, sounding bewildered.
"Not especially, sir," I said coolly. "Disappointment is a part of life. We all have to learn to grin and bear it, or we end up like my spoiled cousin."
"Don't you think your parents would have wanted you to be in Gryffindor?" Dumbledore practically begged me. "Don't you think you're dishonoring their sacrifice by being in Slytherin?"
I blinked. "No? Did you hate my parents, headmaster?"
Dumbledore looked even more befuddled than before, which was a considerable accomplishment to say the least. "Why on earth would you say that, my boy?" He tilted his head. "My boy, my boy, my boy…" he muttered under his breath.
I clapped my hands sharply to get his attention back to me. "Sir, if you think my parents would have been disappointed in me because of my school house, then you clearly had a low opinion of them. They died for the freedom of the magical world – including the freedom for me to go into whatever house treats me best."
Dumbledore looked contemplative and I think I might actually have managed to persuade him, if only just a little. "Yes, perhaps. But you must be wary of your peers. Not all of them have been corrupted by the darkness, but some of them are irreparably subsumed by it."
"Not on my watch, they're not," Professor Sinistra said, barely restraining herself from shouting. I knew if I wasn't present, she wouldn't have held back. "People like Mr. Malfoy are tainted by their parents' retrograde beliefs, but there is no reason to at least not try to help them become better people."
"I'm not so sure I'd waste my time with him if I were you," I muttered.
"But you are not me," Professor Sinistra said, turning her piercing glare in my direction. "It is my responsibility as head of house to educate my charges on proper morality. Something my predecessor never did."
"Severus was –"
Professor Sinistra put up a hand. "It was a mistake on my part to mention Severus. I retract my statement at this time, not because there are not manifold concerns to be discussed, but because it would be inappropriate to do so in front of a student. Albus, the play? Is it approved? Yes or no?"
"Well, yes, but –"
"Good day to you, then."
Professor Sinistra practically shoved me out of the room, looking profoundly troubled. And, look, people, no one has their shit more together than Professor Sinistra, so if something's bothering her, it has to be bad.
"Mr. Potter…please do whatever it takes to avoid being alone with that man," Professor Sinistra said gravely. "It is clear to me he is not well at all. I fear he may act violently towards you in the future."
"I'll do my best, but he's the headmaster and I'm not," I pointed out. "If he wants to talk to me, how can I say no?"
She pursed her lips. "I'll talk this over with Minerva. It may be time to bring this concern to the Board of Governors. For now, rejoice, Mr. Potter! The Tempest awaits. Truly, it's a brave new world for us all."
I couldn't help but grin. Professor Sinistra was right! What could possibly go wrong?
This is Hermione, writing on Harry's blog with his permission. He's too distraught by what happened yesterday, and still in the hospital wing to boot, but he wanted to make sure the story got out to the public. I do this under protest. Harry doesn't seem to realize this – like so, so much else – but this blog is ludicrously illegal. It's a total violation of the Statute of Secrecy and I'm seriously very worried we might end up in jail for this. But Harry's one of my best friends and sometimes you have to commit crimes for your friends or your country if that's what's necessary. My parents taught me that. So do understand what a risk I'm taking here.
Yesterday was Halloween, the tenth anniversary of the Potters' deaths. Harry did a very good job of hiding it – he's not in Slytherin for the heck of it – but he was pretty bothered all day. Not even sneaking into Professor O'Neill's office to find evidence of his "treachery most dire" cheered him up, especially since he didn't find anything. Ron and I tried our best, but I'm not good with people, so it mostly fell on Ron. I think things would have been worse if it weren't for Ron. We're lucky he's in our lives. But still, Harry was really down. He almost skipped the feast and would have if we hadn't run into Malfoy, who insulted the Potters, and Harry's pride doesn't let him back down from such things, ever. Malfoy was acting kind of strangely, though. It was like his heart wasn't in it. He didn't seem to be getting enough sleep. And he looked at me with even more hatred than before, and I didn't think that was possible.
So we all went to the feast, because I'd be damned if I gave that horrid bigot Malfoy an inch. I'll say this for Headmaster Dumbledore: even though I'm more convinced than ever he's gone utterly mad, he can throw one heck of a party.
[Image description: Bats hanging from the ceiling and swooping around the Great Hall. It probably would have been more apropos if they hadn't been cricket bats, but to be fair, having to regularly dodge a cricket bat was really scary, which definitely fit in with the overall thrust of the holiday.]
The three of us were deeply engaged in conversation about how the heck we were going to stop the xenomorph boggart infestation. Harry wanted to introduce them to an even scarier monster, Ron thought we should just leave it alone and let people's fears dissipate on its own. I advocated for showing Aliens to show how the xenomorphs could be fought.
"XENOMORPH IN THE DUNGEONS!" Quirrell screamed, running into the room in a blind panic. No one even blinked. They weren't going to get excited for a boggart. "What's that? Oh, and THERE'S ALSO A TROLL!" He then proceeded to faint near the Slytherin table.
Now people started screaming and running around like chickens with their heads cut off. Harry had turned chalk white. "Oh my God," he muttered. "It's finally happened. Chemtrailsarereal found a way into the school!"
I slammed my head against the table. "Harry. It's not that kind of troll. It's the kind of troll that eats people."
"Oh. Well, that's certainly better than Chemtrailsarereal being here!"
"How are you even like this?" Ron demanded.
Harry shrugged. "I was born in a crossfire hurricane," he started singing, only to be interrupted by Headmaster Dumbledore launching firecrackers into the air to make everyone silent.
"Prefects, lead your houses back to the dormitories immediately!" Headmaster Dumbledore shouted.
Harry gripped the end of the table with such intensity I was worried it might break off. Fury lined every feature of his face. "That monster. Doesn't he remember our dorms are in the dungeons?!"
"Honestly, from what you've told me, I'm not convinced the answer is yes," I pointed out.
Harry spat in Professor Dumbledore's direction and the hall instantly went silent and looked at him. It was astonishing how many people looked at this eleven year old as a leader. "Our dorms are in the dungeons. With the xenomorph – I mean troll."
"You'll be fine, Tom," Headmaster Dumbledore said dismissively. This did not fill me with any sort of confidence.
"You're off your rocker," Harry said contemptuously and gasps filled the hall. I even thought Quirrell might have gasped, which was strange given how unconscious he was supposed to be. I should have paid attention to that. "I will not permit us to be marched off to our deaths."
Dumbledore stood up and drew his wand. "You will do as I say, young man. I am the headmaster and the leader of the light!"
Harry banged his fists on the table repeatedly. "HELL NO, WE WON'T GO!" he screamed and I watched, astonished, as a chorus of those words echoed throughout the halls, even from the tables of the other houses. Even the prefect Percy Weasley, who'd actually broken into tears upon seeing Ron at one point, was saying it.
Dumbledore looked befuddled and this time around, I could hardly blame him. This was probably the first time he'd been openly challenged by so many people who weren't actively trying to kill him. "Er, perhaps I erred slightly…you shall stay here while –"
"While we get justice!" Harry shouted. "I think we all know who's responsible for this incident. The troll was obviously let in deliberately as part of the Machiavellian, conniving schemes of Professor –"
And then Quirrell suddenly rose from the floor and fired a spell that blew a hole into the wall at the other side of the room – and missed its intended target of Harry's head by mere millimeters. Harry looked absolutely gobsmacked and no wonder. Everyone ducked and covered as Quirrell threw a spell in our direction that blasted a huge, gaping hole through the table. A piece of rubble ricocheted and struck a third year in the upper chest, near the shoulder.
At this point, the staff started firing spells at Quirrell's direction. Everyone except for Professor O'Neill, who decided to cower behind a curtain instead. Maybe Harry had a point about them. Quirrell easily blocked all of the spells. I didn't understand what was even happening. How did this man frightened of his own shadow suddenly turn into a dark archwizard?
An instant later, I got an answer, as one of the spells slipped through his defenses and sliced a hole through Quirrell's turban, causing the garment to fall to the ground and revealing another face on the back of his head. But not just any face.
It was the face of Voldemort.
I recognized the face immediately from the images I've read in history textbooks and by the looks of it, half the school also recognized him. Snarling bestially, Quirrell – Voldemort? Eh, let's go with Voldemort. Voldemort grabbed the nearest person and it was Ron! Ron was being held hostage by the Dark Lord.
"Mewling creatures!" Voldemort snapped. His voice was surprisingly high and cold. "You will cease spell fire immediately or I will kill this boy!"
"Do as he says!" Headmaster Dumbledore shouted.
Voldemort turned to face Harry. "Now Harry Potter…"
But Harry wasn't there. Instead, he tackled Voldemort from behind, causing Voldemort to drop both Ron and his wand. Harry let out a nearly animalistic cry and started strangling Voldemort. "THIS IS FOR MY PARENTS, YOU SON OF A BITCH!" he screamed. And as he did that, Voldemort's flesh started burning and boiling somehow. I don't understand what was going on. Some kind of unconscious magic? No one's given me any answers so far. But it doesn't matter, because things got worse.
Voldemort pulled out his wand and cast a green spell, aiming square at Harry's scar, and Harry dropped dead to the floor.
"NO!" Ron and I screamed simultaneously. I couldn't believe it. My best friend was gone! And Voldemort would pay, I vowed. We both leapt in Voldemort's direction, heedless of the immense danger. Fortunately, Quirrell's body chose that moment to finally give out and he too fell dead to the floor. Voldemort's face then proceeded to melt off of Quirrell's face and dissipate into the air into a noxious black cloud.
"I will not be defeated!" Voldemort thundered. "I will return stronger than before! I am invincible! I am eternal! I –"
"…talk too much," Professor Sinistra finished.
And then the venerable head of Slytherin opened up a fucking black hole about the size of a dinner plate and Voldemort's spirit was sucked into it. Boom, no more Voldemort. A superior Slytherin had bested him.
No one had an opportunity to react to that before a resurrected Harry stood up. He was swaying and he looked disoriented, but he was alive. "Why is everyone staring at me?" he asked. "Oh, shit, I survived another Avada Kedavra, didn't I?"
"Two points from Slytherin for foul language," Dumbledore said piously. I couldn't believe what he was hearing. Harry had just come back from the dead and this was all he got? It was so unfair I couldn't even think of the words to describe it.
Harry, being Harry, didn't need words. Instead, he gave him the finger and then proceeded to stumble onto the floor. "My head hurts," he muttered.
Professor Sinistra closed the black hole. Two professors led Harry and the injured third year towards the hospital wing while everyone was indeed led to their dorms, so I suppose Dumbledore got what he wanted in the end. I suppose everyone was assuming the troll was just something Voldemort made up. It turned out to not be the case. I'm not sure what happened to it. I heard a rumor that Hagrid blew it up with a rocket launcher, but obviously that's preposterous.
While Harry seemed to be completely unaffected by the Killing Curse – save the fact his scar was now almost entirely faded – he had hit his head on the floor when it knocked him to the ground and got a concussion. He's going to be in the hospital wing for at least another day while it gets recovered.
"You just really can't help yourself, can you?" I asked him when Ron and I came to visit him after he'd regained consciousness.
Harry gave a wry smile. "I suppose I can't. You know what the worst part of it was? I never even got a chance to have any treacle tart!"
I threw back my head and laughed. "Never change, Harry. Never change."