Something swirled in the air. Harry blinked. His view was sideways for some reason, his cheek smushed to the surface of the desk. He slowly lifted his head, scrunching his eyes shut. His head pounded and rang. Minutes passed.

‘Forgive me, I spent too much time using your magic.’

What magic? thought Harry with a bitter roll of his eyes.

‘You haven’t lost your magic.’

Harry sighed, rubbing his eyes with a hand. He didn’t believe the castle in some ways, but it was nice to hear anyway. He leaned back in the chair; his body sagged with dead weight. He wasn’t aware of how long it took to regain some of his strength. His hands shook with tremors. He clenched them into fists. He sighed again, wishing the adrenaline from before would fill his veins.

Well, this weakness probably wasn’t a good sign. Snape would stick him into bed for another week at this rate. There was so much he wanted to do and needed to do, but this growing weakness was going to be a problem. Going back to their rooms sounded good. A soft bed… He wanted to; he really should, but there was something more pressing now.

Two days. Harry had two days to figure out what he wanted to accomplish within Hogwarts before he was ‘dethroned.’ He had plans for the Defense class, but that wasn’t enough. The other teachers, though definitely not as scary as Professor Snape, would be judging his every move. A child coming in and throwing centuries of tradition out the Astronomy Tower? No one was going to like that.

Harry’s plan needed to be flawless.

He needed all his ideas packaged in a neat box and laid out perfectly, so to speak. He couldn’t have anything the other teachers would pick apart – including Snape. Just because Snape had adopted him, it didn’t mean the man would be all roses and daisies about everything.

If Snape didn’t like something, the man would tell it to him straight.

And there was only one person who could help him.

Harry grabbed the book, Anatomy of a Soul, and slowly got to his feet. He leaned against the desk to steady himself. He walked out of the office, his steps tentative and slow. He began his way towards the library. He’d been walking for a bit when he turned the corner of a corridor and caught sight of a pair of redheads at the end.

“Harry!”

Fred and George Weasley rushed to him, stopping in front with a pair of matching grins.

“Lookin’ good, Headmaster Harry,” drawled Fred with a mocking salute.

“Does this mean you can take points?” asked George with a waggle of his eyebrows. “Because I have some suggestions…”

“There aren’t going to be houses any more,” said Harry with a smile. “I’m making changes to the point system, too.”

“Seriously?”

“That’s no fun.”

“But we’re glad we caught you,” said Fred, his expression darkening. “Did you feel something earlier?”

“The castle sounded like it was constipated or something.”

Harry’s lips lifted in amusement in spite of himself. A flash of indignant irritation flushed through him. It felt as if the castle had puffed up, offended by such a comment.

But he sobered at the true reason.

“No,” murmured Harry. “It was Euan Abercrombie—”

“Wasn’t he that tiny shy thing?”

“All firsties are tiny.”

“Right you are.”

“He’s dead,” said Harry flatly, overriding their back and forth. He couldn’t bear to let this go on for long. The pair of them looked at him in perfect unison. Their eyes widened, horror rushing through their features.

“What?”

“You’re joking… right?”

“Euan is dead,” whispered Harry. His free hand clenched at his side. “The effects of the quill were too much for him. His parents were there for him when he died. What you heard was the castle mourning and crying over his death.”

The light that had always emanated from the twins disappeared. They slouched, looking down at the floor.

“Seriously?” whispered Fred.

“That cute little firstie is… dead?” whispered George.

“And Umbridge killed him,” said Harry, rising fury entering his heart once more. “Fudge didn’t seem like he was ready to take responsibility for her crimes either.”

And then, a terribly frightening look crossed Harry’s face, one side of his mouth lifting with such a devious expression, even Voldemort would’ve been unnerved that it was coming from Harry Potter.

“What kind of mischief delights have you two been making, hm?” said Harry with a dark sneer. “Because I want you two to unleash everything you’ve got on her and Fudge if you so happen to see him wandering around these corridors.”

‘The Minister tried to get his aurors onto the grounds again, but failed. Therefore, he is currently on route to the Hospital Wing. They could overtake him.’

That devilish smile grew.

“I have it on good authority,” began Harry in a low whisper, “that Fudge is making his way to the Hospital Wing. Why don’t you two pay him a visit?”

The twins grinned.

“Anything goes?” asked Fred.

“Anything, anything?” asked George.

“Make him suffer,” whispered Harry. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I want him to fear our generation. I want him to regret putting his politics ahead of our wellbeing.”

With delighted laughs, Fred and George grinned even further, glancing at each other. They cracked their knuckles.

“With pleasure.”

“We thought you’d never ask.”

“Nothing too debilitating,” said Harry. “We don’t want to break the law or overstep the boundaries like Voldemort would. But we can’t let them think we’re okay with this. They need to know we mean business.”

The twins nodded, giving him a final salute. “We’ve got you covered, our revered Headmaster!”

They darted off. Harry watched them. Something moved inside his chest, a magic swelling. It was different than he’d ever felt before since his magic had changed. It felt pliable, moldable. He wasn’t sure what to make of that. He glanced down at his hand; he clenched it.

If he could make something of his magic… Maybe he could find a way to defeat Voldemort. An all out battle, though, would prove impossible. He had to find something else – a strategy. If this poisoned, altered magic could benefit him, could be a blessing, then Harry wasn’t going to begrudge the fact that he couldn’t wield a wand right now. Snape had, after all, called potions an art above ‘foolish wand waving.’

Maybe it wouldn’t be forever.

Maybe it would be forever.

But that wasn’t the most important thing right now.

Harry strode forward, wishing he had the map with him right now. He didn’t want any more interruptions on his way to the library. However, he didn’t see anyone else in the corridors.

Unsurprisingly, he found Hermione in the library. She had holed herself up in a corner of one of the tables, nearly buried in two mountains of books at either side. He wouldn’t have found her if it weren’t for the bushy brown hair appearing near the top. It was more of a mess than normal.

“Hermione.”

She jumped. A stack of books toppled to the side. She attempted to save a few of them, but the tomes were so dense that they fell to the side with an echoing thump. She winced, glancing around for Madam Pince to suddenly pop up and berate them.

“Don’t do that,” whispered Hermione.

“Sorry,” said Harry with a soft laugh, coming to sit next to her. He set his book aside, face down on the table. “I wasn’t trying to scare you.”

She let out a low sigh, putting a hand over her chest. “What’s going on, Harry?” she asked, biting her lip. “I felt something really strange with the castle an hour or so ago. I’ve never heard anything like it. I was trying to research what it was, but…”

“The castle was crying,” whispered Harry. He swallowed. “Euan died.”

Hermione gasped, tears welling up in her eyes. Her lips trembled. “Oh, Harry,” she whispered, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. Harry nearly drowned in her hair, but he didn’t mind. He hugged her back. “Oh—oh, how awful. And it could’ve been you, too!”

She sobbed softly, tears soaking into the fabric of his shoulder.

“He was so young,” whispered Hermione.

“Yeah,” murmured Harry, patting her lightly.

She pulled back. She wiped the tears from her face, sniffling. She grabbed his hand and held it tightly, as if holding on with the last strand of her sanity. Harry squeezed it.

“Hermione, I need your help.”

Her countenance changed. Determination flooded through the tears. She nodded. “Anything,” Hermione said. “What do you need help on?”

“I have two days to come up with a plan for Hogwarts,” said Harry, turning towards the table. He grabbed a piece of blank parchment and a quill, and began scribbling his ideas. “I already know what I want to do with the Defense Against the Dark Arts class. But I need your help on the rest of the classes.”

“Two days?” whispered Hermione, her eyes wide. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” said Harry, looking up with a weak smile. “I have to come up with a school wide plan that changes all of the classes, since they were all based on house division. I want the class structure to change every semester, so students have more of a chance to make friendships outside their old houses.”

“Hmm,” murmured Hermione.

She took a moment to look through his notes, Harry adding more to the page as she did so.

“I also want dormmates to change once a school year.”

“What? Harry, that will be so disruptive!” whispered Hermione, frowning. “That’s not going to work out well.”

“I know, but it’ll be worth it, don’t you think?” said Harry. “Think about it for the first years. By the time they’re a third year, they’ll have had six different dormmate groups. They’ll have to make more friends outside what they would’ve before all this. It’s not like you get along with any of your dormmates, right?”

Hermione bit her lower lip.

“Can you imagine rooming with someone who loves to study as much as you for half of your school year? It’d be a great chance for you to have more friends besides Ron and I.”

“I have friends,” snapped Hermione, glaring at him. She lightly slapped him on the arm.

Harry laughed. “Besides us.”

“I do see your point,” said Hermione with a sigh. “But the logistics of this is going to be insane – and the question is: will future Headmasters or Headmistresses honor your changes? You could change everything, cause loads of issues and then the new Headmaster puts everything back. It’ll feel like whiplash to all the students.”

“You don’t think Dumbledore will honor these changes?”

“Harry, I’m not even sure I would keep these changes myself if they made me Headmistress,” said Hermione, giving him a hard look. “Some of them don’t make much sense.”

“That’s why I’m coming to you,” said Harry. “But, really, don’t you think things need to change? You and I, we’re different than people who have lived in the wizarding world. Just because something is tradition, it doesn’t make it right.”

“I know,” whispered Hermione. She sighed, resting her cheeks into her hands as she looked down at the table. “I know…”

“Won’t you help me?”

Hermione let out an exasperated exhale. “Of course, you know I’ll help you,” she said, giving him another look. “You know I can’t resist either.”

Harry smiled.

An hour later, they had finished a plan that both were pleased with – though, Harry had thought it would’ve taken far longer. As he looked through their plans once more, he felt a warmth fill his chest.

This could work.

More warmth filled his heart, magic wrapping around him. Approval. He smiled to himself. If the castle was pleased about this, then they were definitely on the right track.

“There’s one more thing,” said Harry, sticking the parchments of their plan into his book. He took a deep breath, wondering briefly if he should keep quiet – but there was always a chance Hermione knew something. “What do you know about spirits?”

“Spirits?”

Hermione stared at him with a frown, then her face flushed with the rise of an angry Mama bear.

“Harry James, if you’re thinking about bringing firewhiskey into the common room, so help me—”

Harry laughed, interrupting her tirade. “No, not those kinds of spirits.” He chuckled and Hermione turned pink in embarrassment. “No, I meant actual spirits. You know, like a ghost or a soul, but… not really a ghost. Something… Someone different.”

“Oh.”

“I know you read a lot,” said Harry. “Have you come across anything like that?”

“Well, not really,” said Hermione. “I’ve never really been into that kind of stuff. My family has always been agnostic.”

“So… you don’t believe there’s a place… you know, waiting for us after we die?”

Hermione sighed. “This is why I avoid stuff like this. I don’t enjoy talking about religion and stuff. There’s just no scientific evidence for it. It’s like talking to Luna sometimes…”

“Hermione,” said Harry flatly, giving her a look. He gestured to the library, where a number of books were flying towards a shelf and returning to their proper order. “We live in a hidden castle where we go to school to learn magic. There are magical creatures and we fly on broomsticks. There’s nothing scientific about us!”

“I know! That’s why I don’t like talking about it!” said Hermione in exasperation. “It’s confusing!”

Harry snorted. “That much I can understand.” He sighed, glancing down at the table.

There had to be somewhere souls went to, though. Euan was there; he knew it. He had seen the spirits of those Voldemort had killed. They couldn’t have been fake. His parents had talked to him. They had known who he was. Perhaps finding the answers meant dying, but Harry wasn’t about to try that nonsense out.

“Why did you want to know?”

Well, he knew she’d ask, so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise to him. A part of Harry began to internally panic. He didn’t want to tell her about what he saw. She might dismiss it. And while, yes, it was strange, Harry knew that it wasn’t something he made up in his mind. The castle had confirmed his presence, too.

“I was just… wondering,” whispered Harry. Throwing her off his track was the best thing for her. “About my parents and stuff.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Harry; I didn’t even think about that—Oh, I’m so stupid—”

“It’s fine, really,” said Harry, overriding her. “It’s okay. Thanks for your help. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Her smile was big and bright in response.

He waved goodbye and left the library with his book, pieces of parchment sticking out slightly. As he left the library, he decided to make one more stop before going back to their quarters. However, a thought occurred to him.

Hadn’t the castle mentioned another soul unable to pass on? Maybe that soul might have answers that the ghosts didn’t have.

That soul, are they inside the castle?

There was silence. The castle didn’t respond immediately. Harry found it odd.

‘Yes.’

Can you help me find them?

More silence.

‘There is a dark book, Secrets of the Darkest Art, full of evil and destruction. You must read a section within that book before you continue on this path. Be warned: what you seek will forever change your innocence. You will not unsee the darkness. But only then will you know the truth.’

I don’t understand. What does this have to do with the lost spirit?

‘The lost soul, broken and shattered, is Tom Riddle.’

Harry jerked to a stop, sucking in his breath. Wait, what?

But the castle didn’t respond any further. Harry tried to get her to speak, but her silence remained. Harry sighed, putting a hand to his head. His headache was coming back with full force. Now there was something even more to think about. Would it ever end?

Well, there was one other person who might know something about spirits. But it would be harder to find her. Harry wasn’t sure where Luna tended to hang out; though, he did have an inkling where she could be.

By this point, Snape would probably say this was officially in gallivanting territory.

Ah, well.