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Burning Pain Skeleton Part 5

The last part I wrote for Methods. A rewrite of a scene far later in the story where Quirrel (Monroe)’s hero worship becomes something else entirely...

The old witch's gaze was questioning, though answers were not found in the prophetic flames before her. They promised only swift incineration. "I mourned you myself. What happened?" Professor Burning Pain Skeleton's shade soaked cloak of smoke and ash bellowed outward, filling the room as the lamps died. The only light was cast by his eternally smoldering frame, the impossibly hot ember-coal bones highlighted against a supernatural twilight. It was as if the room before Amelia had been swallowed whole by the night. "CEASE YOUR BASELESS ASSUMPTIONS," Professor Burning Pain Skeleton screamed out. "ARE YOU NOT CAPABLE OF REALIZING THAT IT IS MY WILL THAT NONE KNOW OF ME?! IF YOU WOULD BE MY DISCIPLE YOU FLAME THRALLED FOOL THEN BE AT LEAST AS BRIGHT AS A DIM EMBER!!! WAS I NOT THE ONE THAT AIDED YOU IN REMOVING THE WAX FLESH OBSTACLES TO YOUR CURRENT RULE!?!" Professor Burning Pain Skeleton's smiling visage burned itself into the minds of those present. None but the aged crone that had served him faithfully was not blinded by the sight. "BUT OF COURSE, IT HAS BEEN LONG SINCE YOU RECEIVED A BOON FOR YOUR CULTISH WORSHIP... WHAT WEAK AND MEASLY NEED HAVE YOU?!" The old witch leaned back in her Auror's monitoring-chair, looking rather startled, maybe even hurt. "No -" she said after a long and carefully considered moment. Her fingers tapped the leather folder; nervously, one might have thought, if Amelia Bones could ever be nervous. At that moment what she felt was anticipation at the Dread Fire long awaited return. "But your Cult - there are not many remaining that know of Lost Hyboria-" "IT MATTERS LITTLE!! SOON THE OCEANS WILL RISE AND THE ICE CHASMED PRISONS WILL MELT!! MY LOST CITIES WILL BE FREED!! AND THOSE LIKE YOU MAY TAKE YOUR PLACE AS TENDERS TO THE INFERNO AS WE WASH AWAY THE TAINT THAT BEFOULS THIS WORLD IN PURIFYING FIRE!!!!" The old witch sighed, dreamily. "What does Dumbledore think of this?" The thing that was not a man in the detention cell shook his head. "DUMBLE-DUMBER?! HE DID NOT EVEN INQUIRE " The old witch's eyebrows rose. "How did he identify you to the Hogwarts wards, then?" A slight smile that caused the stones about them to bleed tar and pitch. "THE OLD AS MERLIN FOOL DREW A CIRCLE OF WORTHLESS PROTECTION AND PROCLAIMED ME A TEACHER!! WHICH REMINDS ME... I AM NEEDED THERE!! NEEDED, DO YOU UNDERSTAND LAWTENDER?!!!" "You seem to - rest, sometimes, in a peculiar manner. Unmoving as the fire grows and wanes about you. This has also been reported. And you seem to be resting like this more and more frequently, as time goes on." The old witch's fingers tapped the leather folder again. "I cannot recall reading of such a symptom, but when one hears of such a thing, one imagines... Dark Wizards fought, and terrible curses received..." The Defense Professor remained expressionless. A motionless burning corpse locked in a cage. "Do you require a healer's help?" said Amelia Bones. Her own mask had slipped, clearly showing the pain in her eyes that came from looking to long into the Hell before her. "Is there anything at all that can be done for you?" "SO LONG AS THE WITCH CHILD SCHOOL STANDS UNBROKEN I AM A TEACHER THERE," Professor Burning Pain Skeleton growled out with flat finality. "THINK WHAT YOU WILL OF THAT!! NOW I MUST RETURN THERE, ALREADY I FEEL THAT THOSE TIRESOME WORM BEINGS YOU CREATE THROUGH YOUR ANIMAL RUTTING ARE TOO LONG ABSENT MY INSTRUCTION!!!"

#my dumb fanfic stuff #hp mor #writing #burning pain skeleton

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Burning Pain Skeleton Part 4

The conclusion to the Rita Skeeter section.

The time was just before noon, and Harry and Professor Burning Pain Skeleton were seated at the foot and head of a wide, long, flat slab of obsidian, in a dank and dark appointed private cell with thoroughly uncomfortable blocks of granite and iron chains , and woven black steel hanging from the walls. They were about to eat lunch in Mary's Place, or more correctly a deep and forgotten hole beneath it, which Professor Burning Pain Skeleton had said was known to him as one of the best restaurants in Diagon Alley, especially for - his voice had rose meaningfully as did the light that issued from his maw - certain dread and terrible purposes for which you must not speak! It was the nicest… restaurant that Harry had ever been in, and it was really eating away at Harry that Professor Burning Pain Skeleton was treating him to the meal. Or would he supposed, if her had ordered anything but murky oil that bubbled hollow geode turned bowl. Each of the polished gems along the side reflecting some lost and forgotten world in the light cast by the inferno of his teacher. The first part of the mission, to find an Occlumency instructor, had been a success. Professor Burning Pain Skeleton, smiling more evilly than normal, had ordered Griphook to recommend the best he knew, and not worry about the expense, since Dumbledore was paying it; and the goblin had smiled in return. Or started to, before the heat had caused the poor man to faint. There might have been a certain amount of smiling on Harry's part as well… and some fainting as well. He didn’t quite remember how he left after all. Or really how the got to where ever they now where. Underground and ordering food from from a bored witch chewing bubblegum. "NO FOOD WENCH," screamed Professor Burning Pain Skeleton to the waitress, "WE NEED NOT YOUR PATHETIC PAPER MATS OF PRICES. I WILL HAVE UNCOOKED LIVERS AND A BOTTLE OF CHIANTI, MY DISCIPLE WILL HAVE ONE DISCIPLE MEAL… WITH SMALL CULTIST COKE." The waitress, clad in robes with a plastic name tag that still looked severe and formal while being rather shorter than usual and garish to the extent that they hurt Harry’s eyes to look upon, continued loudly chewing her gum as she finished writing down their order before leaving. Professor Burning Pain Skeleton waved a hand in the direction of the door, and a bolt of red crackling power welded the hinges slid shut. Now they were locked in. Together. "NOW WE ARE ALONE! THIS IS KNOWN AS MARY’S ROOM, AND HERE NO SPIRIT EYES CAN SEE OUR DARK BUSINESS. EVEN DUMB-BORE CAN NOT VIEW OUR SPARKS OF THOUGHT HERE. BE PROUD DISCIPLE. BY EATING HERE YOU NOW SIT WHERE COUNTLESS PROSTITUTES AND CORRUPT POLITICIANS HAVE SAT! THE GREATEST OF YOUR TRAGICALLY YOUNG AND UNBURNING RACE!!" "Really," said Harry slowly. Professor Burning Pain Skeleton nodded furiously. “YES!!” Harry's lips were parted in anticipation. And a little fear as he began to realize that there were no vents in the room. And he was trapped with a fire, an eternal burning hate flame shaped as a man. "It would be a waste to just sit here and... eat? Lunch that is, without doing anything special." Professor Burning Pain Skeleton grinned, then took out his wand and flicked it in the direction of the door. "SILENCE!" he screamed, "WE SHALL BE HIDDEN FAR DARKER THAN MERE FORNICATORS!!! NOW WE ARE TRAPPED! SEALED TOGETHER TILL I WILL IT NOT!! TILL I, AND I ALONE, ALLOW YOU LEAVE FROM THIS FORGOTTEN PLACE!!” Professor Burning Pain Skeleton then spoke no fewer than six plus six different Charms, none of which Harry recognized. Though given how his ears stung perhaps that was for the best. "THIS ALONE WILL NOT BE SUFFICE," said Professor Burning Pain Skeleton as his flames simmered. "WERE WE TO DO ANYTHING TRULY DREADFUL HERE IT WOULD TAKE ANOTHER THREE BY THREE BY THREE DARK WARDS TO MAKE US SAFE! IF THE WORD WITCH KNEW US TO BE HERE, SHE MIGHT HAVE HIDDEN WITHIN A CLOAK OF LOST LIGHT! OR BE FORM CRAFTIER GRANTED SOMETHING TINY AND VERMINOUS! I COULD CHECK FOR THOSE TOO! BUT I WOULD DO THEM BY ENGULFING THIS ROOM IN BLISSFUL CONFLAGRATION, AND YOU ARE YET CURSED BY THE WEAK FLESH! PERHAPS YOU WISH TO BE FREE OF IT NOW!?" And Professor Burning Pain Skeleton tapped a finger talon on his cheekbones, looking abstracted. AS if the light bent wrong about him. "It's fine," Harry said, "I understand, and you don’t need to trouble yourself." Though he was a little disappointed that they weren't doing anything of truly dreadful. "THEN WE BEGIN," Professor Burning Pain Skeleton said with loud imposing tones of dreadful intensity. He leaned back on his slab, which popped and cracked beneath his glowing bones, smiling frightfully. "YOU HAVE DONE WELL DISCIPLE! YOU HAVE IMPRESSED EVEN ME! THE WORD WITCH IS VANQUISHED! THE INBREED FOOL WILL BE DISPLEASED BY HIS FAILURE!! IF HER BRAIN SPARKS RIGHT SHE SHALL FLEE THIS TOO WET HELL BEFORE THE CLOSEST STAR RISES NEXT MORNING!!" A sinking sensation began to dawn in Harry's stomach. "Lucius was behind Rita Skeeter...?" "YES! IT IS QUITE INSANE ISN’T IT?!" said Professor Burning Pain Skeleton. Harry hadn't thought about what would happen to Rita Skeeter afterward. At all. Not in the slightest. But she would get fired from her job, of course she would be fired, she might have children going through Hogwarts for all Harry knew, and now it was worse, much worse - "Is Lucius going to have her killed?" Harry said in a barely audible voice. Somewhere in his head, the Sorting Hat was screaming at him. Professor Burning Pain Skeleton smiled dryly as the air around him crackled and caught a flame. The air was running out. "I HATE THE WRITERS OF NEWS! THOSE THAT WOULD DARE RECORD MY EXPLOITS!! I ALONE SHOULD PUT FLAME TO PAPER AND SCORCH MY HISTORY WITHIN THE DREAD TOMES!!" Harry jumped out of his chair with a convulsive movement that almost had him falling to the floor as the heat rose around him, he had to find Rita Skeeter and warn her before it was too late - "SEAT YOURSELF DISCPLE," Professor Burning Pain Skeleton said as sharply as his favorite sacrifice dagger. "THE OILY HAIRED ONE WILL NOT KILL HER! HE IS NOT HIS WORTHLESS SON!! BUT HE IS STILL A CRUEL TYRANT OF HIS TINY WORTHLESS DOMAIN AND WILL STRIVE TO MAKE HIS DISPLEASURE KNOWN!! THE WORD WITCH WILL HIDE HER NAME AND FACE! NOW YOU MUST LEARN!!!" Harry sat down, slowly gasping for air as the oxygen level fell. There was a disappointed, annoyed look on Professor Burning Pain Skeleton 's face that was doing more to stop him than the words. It etched itself into his mind. Even when he closed his eyes he stared into him still. "PATHETIC," Professor Burning Pain Skeleton said, his voice cutting through the stifling air, "THAT YOUR SHARPENED SNAKE CLAN MIND IS WASTED ON YOUR WEAK FLESH ADDLED SOUL! REPEAT AFTER ME! THE WITCH WOMAN DESERVES TO- BUG!!! Professor Burning Pain Skeleton screamed a deathly cry that shook the stones around them. Black pitch issued forth from his mouth as he pointed at a flying beetle that had settled upon the table near Harry’s hand to steal some of his warm watery gruel as the heat grew too great to endure. Professor Burning Pain Skeleton leaped onto the table, wings of hell flame rising to the ceiling and melting the iron chains around him. Harry saw hell. And hell fell upon him. He fell backwards from the table backing away as Professor Burning Pain Skeleton stomped on the table. His mouth a spigot of fire and sound. Dark inarticulate cries of demonic curses that made the air bleed coal ash. But even within that… perhaps it was madness. Or death’s grim hand upon his heart as the air grew thin. But he could hear him crying out. “I HATE BUGS! HATE! HATE! BUGS! I HATE BUGS! HOW DARE THEY SURVIVE MY INFERNO?! CRAWL OUT FROM UNDER ROCKS AND MOCK ME!! MOCK MY FLAME WITH THEIR PERSEVERANCE!!” As he demolished the table Harry backed away to the corner, eyes wide in terror. A terror shared by a tiny blue beetle hiding in his hair. He did indeed never hear from Rita Skeeter again after he woke up. Though he wasn't quite sure who undid the charms on the door...

#MY dumb fanfic stuff #writing #HP MOR #burning pain skeleton

Burning Pain Skeleton Part 3

I particularly didn’t like the Rita Skeeter section of Methods.

That will become clear shortly.

"Do you mind -" said Harry, at the same time as Professor Burning Pain Skeleton began screaming, "I'm afraid I -" Harry wisely stopped, and Professor Burning Pain Skeleton didn't. "- MUST SET THE BALE GEARS TURNING, MY DISCIPLE! AS IT HAS SOMEHOW COME TO BE THAT YOUR MEASLY LIFE IS NOW MY CONCERN I MUST SEE TO IT THAT YOUR FLESH TINDER IS NOT YET COMBUSTED TILL -" "Newsstand," Harry said. "DO NOT INTERUPT ME DISCIPLE!!!” "… Or anywhere I can buy a copy of the Daily Prophet," Harry said meekly, feeling very tiny as the flames rose up around them. Shortly after, Harry had been delivered into a bookstore, accompanied by several loudly spoken, clear threats to life, limb, and spiritual existence. And the shopkeeper had gotten even louder threats, judging by the way he hid behind the counter and the muffled crying sound. Though that might be the fact that Professor Burning Pain Skeleton and books went together rather poorly on the whole. Harry suspected that was the real reason there were no textbooks and no homework in the Defense class. As the bookstore began to burn down, Harry decided he was going to stick around in the middle of the fire until Professor Burning Pain Skeleton got back. It didn’t do well to disobey him. Meanwhile - Harry took a quick glance around. The bookstore seemed rather small and shoddy, with only four rows of bookcases visible amongst the flames, and the nearest shelf Harry's eyes had jumped to seemed to deal with narrow, cheaply bound books with grim titles like The Massacre of Albania in the Fifteenth Century. Though they did burn rather well, so he supposed they weren't entirely useless. First things first. Harry stepped over to the seller's counter. "Pardon me," said Harry, "One copy of the Daily Prophet, please." Only more whimpers issued forth from the trembling man. Harry decided to leave a few Sickles for the cost and quickly prepare to leave the now burning building as the roof gave an unpleasant sound. The headline read: HARRY POTTER SECRETLY BETROTHED TO GINEVRA WEASLEY Harry stared. He lifted the newspaper to his face slowly, softly, reverently, like he was handling an original Escher artwork, and unbent it to read... ...about the evidence that had convinced Rita Skeeter. ...and some interesting further details. ...and yet more evidence. Fred and George had cleared it with their sister first, surely? Yes, of course they had. There was a picture of Ginevra Weasley sighing longingly over what Harry could see, looking closely, was a photo of himself. That had to have been staged. But how on Earth...? Harry was sitting in a cheap folding chair whose metal would not burn, rereading the newspaper for the fourth time, when the door whispered softly and Professor Burning Pain Skeleton came back into the shop. "HATEFUL INFINITIES COMPELL ME TO OFFER MY CONDOLENCES BUT- WHAT ARE YOU READING DISCIPLE!?!" "It would seem," said Harry, awe and fear for the hell mage in his voice, "that one Mr. Arthur Weasley was placed under the Imperius Curse by a Death Eater whom my father killed, thus creating a debt to House Potter, which my father demanded be repaid by the hand in marriage of the recently born Ginevra Weasley. Do people actually do that sort of thing around here?" "HOW COULD THE WORD WITCH BE SO MORONIC?! THIS IS ABSURD EVEN BY THE STANDARDS OF THE MADDENING DREAMLANDS I -" And Professor Burning Pain Skeleton's voice cut off as the furnace slammed shut. One could feel the heat drop noticeable as his skull clamped down on the magma like gullet from which his pulsing heart, a blood red organ of living flame boiled under his smoke robes. Harry had been reading the newspaper held vertically and unfolded, which meant that Professor Burning Pain Skeleton, from where he was standing surrounded by melting cobblestones and dead pigeons that fell from the sky already cooked, could see the text underneath the headline. The look of shock on Professor Burning Pain Skeleton 's face was a work of art almost on par with the newspaper itself. If the paper had been penned by a insane artist, eyes gouged out by his own hands as he stared into the smoky abyss behind the wallpaper… behind the walls of the locked room in which he was trapped. Stared into the face of the forgotten could have-beens and might-haves. The nameless, unnamed horrors of the time before time… Only for his possessed hands, compelled by that dark power to give them freedom, to damn reality with their twisted images and bringing them one step closer to rebirth into the material existence with each new image made. "Don't worry," said Harry cheerfully, "it's all fake." From elsewhere in the store behind them, he heard the shopkeeper scream. There was the sound of a stack of books falling over as the flames consumed another shelf. Soon the building would collapse. It would be best if they left soon. "DISCIPLE..." Professor Burning Pain Skeleton said slowly, so terribly slowly, "ARE YOU CERTAIN OF THESE WORD TRUTHS!?" "Quite sure. Shall we go?" Professor Burning Pain Skeleton nodded but once, looking rather abstracted… like part of him was elsewhere, hidden between angles, and Harry folded the newspaper back up, and followed him out of the door. Or at least a door. For some reason Harry didn't seem to be hearing any street noises now. Nor could he see the streets… there was naught but the flaming spectre, surrounded by an infinite abyss that stretched from horizon to horizon. They walked in silence for thirty seconds before Professor Burning Pain Skeleton spoke. "THE OBSESSED WITCH SPIED UPON THE WORTHLESS WIZARD MEETING! SHE DID THIS TO FIND OUT WHO AMONGST THE MISERABLE FEMALES OF YOUR RACE YOU ARE TO BREED WITH! WHY?! I DO NOT UNDERSTAND WHY THIS IS IMPORTANT!!!! YOU ARE TOO YOUNG TO MATE, AND YOU DO NOT HAVE THE TEMPERAMENT TO DO SO!! NOR DO I SEE YOU AS USEFUL FOR SUCH PURPOSES!! YOU WOULD DO BETTER AS A CASTRATED EUNUCH DEVOTED TO ME AND ME ALONE!!!!" "Yes," Harry said. Choosing not to respond to Professor Burning Pain Skeleton’s remarks. It would be best not to make him follow through with his statements about Harry’s worthlessness as a… well man in the general sense. "THE ORIGINAL RECORDS WERE VIEWED BY HER FOR THIS!!!!" "Yes." "EVEN I AM BARRED FROM DOING SO!! ANCIENT MAGICS OF THE INCUBUS AND THAT INCESTUOUS WITCH KEEP ME FROM SETTING FOOT THERE!!!" "Really?" said Harry. "Because if my suspicions are correct, this was done by a Hogwarts student." "THAT IS INSANE!! YOU ARE INSANE," Professor Burning Pain Skeleton screamed flatly, as if his words could in fact flatten Harry. They very well could in all likelihood. "DISCIPLE I FEEL THAT THIS GIRL CHILD THINKS TO WED YOU! THOUGH WHY AND HOW I CANNOT GUESS!! THIS AFFAIR, AND THE OBSESSION OF YOUR FLESH ORGANS NEED TO PROCREATE FILLS ME WHICH SUCH PERFECT INFINITE HATE! HATE THAT THERE ARE NO WORDS, NO THOUGHTS, NO COMPREHENSION OF ITS GLORY!!!" "But that is improbable," said Harry continued, trying to remain in control of a conversation rapidly falling off a cliff. "To quote Douglas Adams, the impossible often has a kind of integrity which the merely improbable lacks." "I DO NOT COMPREHEND THIS IDIOCY," Professor Burning Pain Skeleton said slowly. Each word loud and final as the sparks drifted from his maw. "DISCIPLE THIS MAKES NO SENSE!! WHY?! WHY!? WHY!?! WHY DO THIS?! WHY DOES ANYONE CARE!? TO CHANGE THE MEETINGS RECORDS FOR THIS OF ALL THINGS?! FOR THE GRAND GOBLIN TO SEAL THIS TWISTED MOCKERY WITH HIS PERMISSION!! FOR THERE TO EVEN BE AGREEMENT OF MARRIAGE THAT WOULD REQUIRE SUCH NONSENSE!! NO ONE REQUIRES THIS IF THEY WISH TO BREED THEIR CHILDREN LIKE HORSES!!! WHY, EXPLAIN THIS TO ME DISCIPLE?!! HOW DID THE WITCH WRITER COME TO BELIEVE THIS TO BE TRUE?! IS SHE TAKEN BY FIRE RAVAGES, HER MIND BROKEN BY SWEET MADNESS?! OR HAVE I TRULY LOST MYSELF TO A WORLD EVEN MORE WORTHLESS THAN THE ONE I FIND EACH BALEFUL DAWN WHEN THE SUN RISES ONCE MORE UPON ITS UNBURNED EXISTENCE!!?!” "Indeed," said Harry, "you would expect the Grand Manager of Gringotts to get involved with that much money changing hands. It seems Mr. Weasley was greatly in debt, and so demanded an additional payment of ten thousand Galleons -" "TEN THOUSAND OF YOU MOLTEN GOLD TRINKETS FOR ONE SOUL?!! WHY!? HOW?! SLAVERY IS NOT LEGAL HERE… I CHECKED?!! AND HOW COULD ANY OF THIS BE TRUE?!" "Excuse me," Harry said. "I really have to ask at this point, do people actually do that sort of thing around here -" "NO, THAT WOULD BE STUPID!! WHO WOULD EVEN ADMIT TO SUCH," screamed Professor Burning Pain Skeleton, with a frown on his face as black ichor boiled and bubbled from his fangs.. "PERHAPS WHEN LAST THE DARK ONE RULED, I- HE INTENDED TO RETURN SLAVERY TO THIS LAND AS A READY SOURCE OF SACRIFICES, BUT EVEN THAN THAT PRICE IS ABSURD!!” "He didn't have any choice," said Harry. "Not if he wanted to fulfill the conditions of the prophecy." "GIVE," screamed Professor Burning Pain Skeleton with such rage that the air crackled with red on black lightning, and the newspaper leaped out of Harry's hand so fast that he got a paper cut. Harry automatically put the finger in his mouth to suck on, feeling rather shocked, and turned to remonstrate with Professor Burning Pain Skeleton - Professor Burning Pain Skeleton had stopped short in the middle of the street, and his eyes were glowing balefully as an invisible force held the newspaper suspended before him. Surrounded by an orange aura that was potent enough to keep it from instantly being engulfed in flames. Though even that magic did not keep it from smoldering at the edges. Harry watched, gaping in open awe, as the newspaper opened to reveal pages two and three. And not much long after, four and five. It was like the man had cast off a pretense of mortality… and Harry was quite impressed by someone having the ability to skim a newspaper article. And after a troublingly short time, the paper neatly folded itself up again. Professor Burning Pain Skeleton touched it once, and it was reduced to ash in an instant. "THIS," said Professor Burning Pain Skeleton, "CANNOT BE! NO PROPECHY WOULD BE SO PETTY AND WORTHLESS… AND IF IT WERE SO I FEEL LIKE I MUST KILL ALL INVOLVED!!” Harry nodded, still stunned. "THE HORSE MEN COULD HAVE BEEN SMOKE ADDLED," Professor Burning Pain Skeleton said, frowning harder still, till his skull seemed to crack and fangs became tusks, "IF I MUST PRETEND THIS MADNESS HAS PURPOSE!! HELL SORCERY COULD FORCE THE GOBLIN KING TO COMPLY!! SKIN SHIFTERS COULD PRETEND TO BE THOSE WHO THEY ARE NOT!!! AND IF ONE WAS MAD AND FOCUSED ENOUGH THEY COULD STEAL INTO THE SECURE VAULTS AND CHANGE THE RECORDS!! BUT, AGAIN WHY?!" "I do not have one single plausible hypothesis," said Harry. "I do know it was done on a total budget of forty Galleons." Professor Burning Pain Skeleton stopped short and whirled on Harry, a tornado of flame surrounding him as he did so. His expression was now completely furious. A sane man would have died from fright. "FORTY?! FORTY!? THAT DOES NOT TELL ME WHY!! AND HOW WOULD THAT PAY FOR THIS INSANITY!?!!" Harry shrugged helplessly. "I'll remember that the next time I want to save thirty-nine thousand, nine hundred and sixty Galleons by finding the right contractor." "I SAY THIS TOO OFTEN NOW," said Professor Burning Pain Skeleton. "BUT I WISH ALL EXISTENCE WOULD BURN FOR THE CRIME OF ALLOWING YOUR PLAN TO WORK." "Likewise?” said Harry, not at all certain what he should be feeling at the moment. "SO WHO WAS THE IMPOSSIBLY SKILLED IDIOT THAT HELPED YOU!?" "I'm afraid I couldn't say." Somewhat to Harry's surprise, Professor Burning Pain Skeleton made no objection to this. He could see his shoulders slump in defeat as if the weight of this event had broken something within the hate filled flame spirit. Though still he could feel the hell flames hunger for him as they continued to walk down the street.

#writing #my dumb fanfic stuff #burning pain skeleton #HP MOR

Burning Pain Skeleton Part 2

The continuing adventures of my infernal undead alteration to fanfic canon.

The last tip of the Sun was sinking below the horizon, the red light fading from the treetops, only the blue sky and the eternal self-conflagration of one skeletal horror illuminating the six people standing upon the winter-dried and now singed grass as the flaming undead mage monster was surrounded by a slowly expanding circle of scorched ground, near a vacant cage on whose floor lay an empty, tattered cloak. Harry felt... well, normal again. Sane-ish. Or as much as he had since he first entered class and began to receive his lessons from Professor Burning Pain Skeleton. The spell hadn't undone the day and its damage, hadn't made the injuries as if they had never been, but his hurts had been... bandaged, meliorated? It was hard to describe. Dumbledore was also looking healthier, though not fully restored. The old wizard's head turned for a moment, bravely attempting to lock eyes with Professor Burning Pain Skeleton before wincing from the tyrannical hate-rays they exuded, then looked back to Harry. "Harry," Dumbledore said, "are you about to collapse in exhaustion and possibly die?" "No, strangely enough," Harry said. "That took something out of me, but a lot less than I thought it would." Or maybe it gave something back, as well as taking... "Honestly, I expected my body to be hitting the ground with a thud about now." There was a distinct body-hitting-the-ground-with-a-thuddish sort of sound. "Thank you for taking care of that, Nigel," said Dumbledore to Professor Burning Pain Skeleton receiving a truly soul flinching hell-stare in response for using his forbidden first name, who was now standing above and behind the seemingly unconscious forms of the three Aurors, bluish smoke rising from their corpse like forms. "I confess I am still feeling a bit peaky. Though I shall handle the Memory Charms myself." “NO NEED AILING DUMBLE-FOOL, I WILL DISPOSE OF THIS TRIFLING PROBLEM.” Professor Burning Pain Skeleton then inclined his head as a light breeze blew the corona back and black-light embers drifted away to sizzle till the sun died, and then looked at Harry. "I WILL SKIP THE WEAK MORTAL FLESH ACTS OF SURPRISE! AND BESEECHMENTS TO YOUR FALSE AND WORTHLESS DEITIES," said Professor Burning Pain Skeleton, "POINTLESS WORDS OF HOW GREAT THE HALF-BRED INCUBUS WAS, AND OTHER SUCH EMPTY WORD FILTH! LET ME ASK THE TRUE QUESTION, TERRIBLE AND NECESSARY… WHAT DID YOU DO DISCIPLE? " "The Patronus Charm," Harry said as he recoiled from the unbearable heat exuded by his favorite… and technically only teacher since Professor Burning Pain Skeleton wouldn’t let him leave and no one else wanted him around. "Version 2.0." "I rejoice to see that you are your usual self again," said Dumbledore. "But you are not going anywhere, young Ravenclaw, until you tell me what exactly was that warm and happy thought." "Hm..." said Harry. He tapped a contemplative finger on his cheek. "I wonder if I should?" Professor Burning Pain Skeleton suddenly grinned. This was not a good thing, as the act rippled outward in a wave of anti-life. Milk curdled, birds fell from the sky, and had Hogwarts not been warded well and filled with children and healthy adults the death toll would have been horrendous. "Please?" said the Headmaster. "Pretty please with sugar on top?" Harry felt an impulse and decided to go with it. It was dangerous, but there might not ever be a better opportunity until the end of time. "Three sodas," Harry said to his pouch, then looked up at the eternally burning Defense Professor and the Headmaster of Hogwarts. "Gentlemen," Harry said, "I bought these sodas on my first visit to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, on the day I entered into Hogwarts. I have been saving them for special occasions; there is a minor enchantment on them to ensure they are drunk at the right time. This is the last of my supply, but I do not think there will ever come a finer occasion. Shall we?" Dumbledore took a soda can from Harry, and Harry tossed another to Professor Burning Pain Skeleton. Whereupon it instantly burst, the liquid steaming away. Leaving his taloned claw grasping the now last boiling traces. The two older men each muttered identical charms over the can and frowned briefly at the result, one for protection and the other out of practice at pretending to need to eat, drink, sleep, breath, and a variety of other things. Harry, for his part, simply popped the top and drank. The Headmaster of Hogwarts politely followed suit. The Defense Professor simply tossed his can over his shoulder, where the now melting aluminum flowed as a tiny stream along the ground. Harry said, "I thought of my absolute rejection of death as the natural order." It might not be the right kind of warm feeling you needed to cast a Patronus Charm, but it was going into Harry's Top 10 nonetheless. The looks he got from the Defense Professor and the Headmaster briefly made Harry nervous, as the spilled Comed-Tea faded out of existence on one, and the other’s baleful blood orbs briefly faded away. Leaving naught but an infinite void, into which one could see the face of the Anti-God if you looked long enough; but then the two of them each glanced at the other and both apparently decided that they couldn't get away with doing anything really awful to Harry in the other's presence. Well Dumbledore couldn’t, and Professor Burning Pain skeleton was lacking the instruments he used to touch human flesh without instantly incinerating them. "EMPTY HEADED CHILD," screamed Professor Burning Pain Skeleton as his eyes reappeared, now brighter for their first darkening in twenty thousand years, since he watched fabled Hyboria freeze over and claim his first empire of nightmares, "THAT IS NOT THE ORDER OF THINGS! FIRST THERE IS THE TINDEER-FLESH!! THEN THERE IS THE FIRE, THAT FREES AND PURIFIES TILL ALL IS ASH!!! THEN THERE IS THE DEATH, PERFECT AND ETERNAL GREY UNMAKING!!!!" "Indeed," said Dumbledore. "Explain." Harry opened his mouth, and then, as realization hit him, rapidly snapped his mouth shut again. Godric hadn't told anyone, nor had Rowena if she'd known; there might have been any number of wizards who'd figured it out and kept their mouths shut. You couldn't forget if you knew that was what you were trying to do; once you realized how it worked, the animal form of the Patronus Charm would never work for you again - and most wizards didn't have the right upbringing to turn on Dementors and destroy them - "Erm, sorry about this," said Harry. "But I've just this instant realized that explaining would be an incredibly bad idea until you work some things out on your own." "Is that the truth, Harry?" Dumbledore said slowly. "Or are you just pretending to be wise -" "BRAINLESS WHELP! " screamed out Professor Burning Pain Skeleton, sounding genuinely shocked, furious, and somehow even more on fire in that moment. Flame itself now burning in impossible cannibalism of the concept of heat. "MY DISCIPLE HAS FOUND A DARK SECRET, AND HIDDEN IT INSIDE HIS SOUL SO IT MIGHT FESTER AND MAKE HIM LIKE UNTO THE PIPERS OF THE THRONE!! WOULD YOU MAKE THE MAD ARAB SPEAK FROM HIS TORN OUT TONGUE?!?!" "If I told you -" Harry began. "NO," Professor Burning Pain Skeleton screamed ever louder, vomiting sound and gouts of pure killing light that struck the ground around him and burned the soil black and dead, his baleful death tone sounding rather like a million great iron bells, each as large as a castle knocking together to herald the end of creation. "YOU DO NOT SHARE SECRETS! YOU DO NOT SHARE DARK KNOWLEDGE!! YOU HIDE THE LIGHT WITHIN YOU UNTIL IT BURNS OUTWARD!! UNTIL IT IS YOUR STRENGTH AND NO ONE ELSE'S!!! WHEN YOU SHARE IT, IT WILL BE AS A TEST TO TAKE OTHERS INTO YOUR THRALL... OR TO LAY A TRAP TO DESTROY YOUR WORTHLESS ADVERSARIES!!!" Harry nodded. "But," said the Headmaster, having stumbled next to Harry during the outburst and shielding them both with the most powerful magics he knew as the world around them was dragged into Hades. "But, but what am I to tell the Ministry? You can't just lose a Dementor!" "TELL YOUR TINDER STICK BONE LEADERS I DEVOURED THE SHADOW, CONSUMING DARKNESS ITSELF TO FEED ME,” said Professor Burning Pain Skeleton, slower and quieter now as his voice became unto the sound of molten ore pouring across land, a wave of hellish destruction erasing all of Man's work, causing Harry to choke on the soda he had unthinkingly raised to his parched lips. "IT IS MORE TRUTH THEN THEY DESERVE! WE LEAVE NOW DISCIPLE!!" The two of them began to walk the dirt path back to Hogwarts, leaving behind Albus Dumbledore staring forlornly at the empty cage and the three hopefully sleeping Aurors awaiting their Memory Charms. Aftermath, Harry Potter and Professor Burning Pain Skeleton: They walked for a while before Professor Burning Pain Skeleton spoke, and all background noise dropped into silence when he did. This was a common occurrence, as if reality itself were afraid of him. "YOU ARE A TALENTED ASSASSIN, DISCIPLE! PERHAPS WE SHOULD HUNT THE PRINCIPLES OF REALITY ITSELF ONE DAY," said Professor Burning Pain Skeleton, actually exuding pride… or something like it towards his student. Though it felt like molten iron pouring into his ears. "Thank you," Harry said sincerely, sweating profusely from standing so long so close to the burning skeleton robbed in torn sky of some alien world. "I! MUST! KNOW!!!" Professor Burning Pain Skeleton said, louder and more forceful with each word screamed out, "BUT IF ONLY DEAD-DUMBLE-MAN-WALKING WAS NOT WORTHY OF YOUR DARK SECRET…?" Harry considered this. Professor Burning Pain Skeleton already couldn't cast the animal Patronus Charm. Or he had at least said- screamed such so loudly that several students had had their eardrums burst. But you couldn't untell a secret, and Harry was a fast enough learner to realize that he ought to at least think for a while before unleashing this one upon the world. He might need a Dark Secret or two if he things Professor Burning Pain Skeleton told him at night, deep in the darkest dungeons beneath Hogwarts were true. Harry shook his head, and Professor Burning Pain Skeleton nodded acceptance. But for the briefest instant Harry felt/saw the other hims, across a thousand million billion worlds die as the rage of that momentary annoyance struck out, a curse upon totality. He saw in Professor Burning Pain Skeleton's eternal flaming skull face the wish to murder a portion of the infinite with his face for daring to obstruct him. Harry swallowed slowly before speaking again. "Out of curiosity, Professor Burning Pain Skeleton," said Harry, "if your bringing the Dementor to Hogwarts had been part of an evil plot, what would have been its goal?" "KILL THE ALBUS DUMBLE-DUMB WHEN HE WAS EVEN MORE WORTHLESS THAN NORMAL," Professor Burning Pain Skeleton said without even hesitating. It had been his plan before his disciple had unmade the Dementor by unknown and no doubt vile methods. Enough of a victory in and of itself to state his need to see creation smolder for the moment. "HAS THE SENILE DOLT FINALLY SEEN THROUGH ME YET!?! DOES HE KNOW HOW CLOSE HE STANDS TO THE END!!?" Harry said nothing for a second while he tried to think of a reply, and then gave up when he realized he'd already answered. He had spoken… but he had not spoken. It was like the words had just tumbled out of him as his will and soul were bent against the force of Professor Burning Pain Skeleton’s desires. Not but unworked metal to be reforged into a proper weapon to kill the world. "A FASCINATING CONJECTURE LESSER MEAT MIND,” Professor Burning Pain Skeleton said with hell scorched humor invested in each word. "DISCIPLE THERE IS NO DOUBT THAT SOMEONE PLOTTED YOUR END TODAY! YOUR SPELL STICK FALLING SO CLOSE TO THE SHADE WAS NO MISTAKE! ONE OF THOSE NAMELESS DREGS COULD HAVE BEEN SMOKE ADDLED TO SERVE ANOTHER. THE TOO SHORT FOOL AND EVEN MYSELF MIGHT HAVE BEEN RESPONSIBLE, PERHAPS A TEST THAT YOU MANAGED TO PASS. THE POISON MAKER MIGHT HAVE BEEN PRESENT, HIS BODY OCCLUDED FROM MORTAL SIGHT AND HIS HATE THOUGHTS BENT AGAINST YOU AND TAKEN ACTION!! EVEN THE ANCIENT FOSSIL MAN MIGHT HAVE MEANT TO END YOU!! HIS LIE OF KINDNESS TORN OFF LIKE A FAKE SKIN TO SHOW YOU THE TRUTH IN HIS BONES!!!" They walked on for a few steps, a trail of fire behind one. "But why would he?" Harry said. The Defense Professor stayed quiet a moment, not quite sure on the nature of the question, as why wouldn’t one wish to kill another, and then finally said, "DISCIPLE, HAVE YOU NOT YET INVESTIGATED THE NATURE OF THIS SCHOOL’S MASTER!?! SPENT EVEN A FEW MOMENTS OF YOUR SHORT LIFE CANDLE TO PROPHECIZE HIS GOALS?!!" "Not many," said Harry. He'd only recently realized... "Not nearly enough." "THEN OBSERVE FOOL," cried out Professor Burning Pain Skeleton in a great flourish of sparks and foul smelling ashy smoke that covered the world about them in burning soot, "THAT YOU DO NOT ONLY LEARN OF THOSE THAT MIGHT OBSTRUCT YOU FROM THEIR SIMPERING ALLIES!!!" Now it was Harry's turn to walk a few steps in silence on the slightly beaten dirt path that led back to Hogwarts. He'd really been supposed to know better than that already. Confirmation bias was the technical term; it meant, among other things, that when you chose your information sources, there was a notable tendency to choose information sources that agreed with your current opinions. It did well to listen to others, like the screaming fire shade that stood next to him, or his nightmare cult worshiping friend Draco. "Thank you," Harry said. "Actually... I didn't say it earlier, did I? Thank you for everything. Your lessons have brought me so much closer to optimizing the world," Harry said, earning a dreadfully approving glimmer of acknowledgement in the incandescent orbs of Professor Burning Pain Skeleton's eyes. "If another Dementor ever threatens you, or for that matter, slightly annoys you, just let me know and I'll introduce it to Mister Glowy Person. I don't like it when Dementors slightly annoy my friends." That got him an blessedly indecipherable glance from Professor Burning Pain Skeleton. "YOU UNMADE A DEATH SHADE BECAUSE IT ANNOYED ME!?" "Erm," Harry said, "I'd sort of decided on it before then, but yes, that would have been sufficient reason by itself." "I SEE THEN," said Professor Burning Pain Skeleton. "HOW WOULD YOU HAVE DEALT WITH AN UNDYING FOE IF YOU COULD NOT REJECT REALITY ITSELF!?!" "Plan B," said Harry. "Encase the Dementor in dense metal with a high melting point, probably tungsten, drop it into an active volcano, and hope it ends up inside Earth's mantle. Ah, the whole planet is filled with molten lava under its surface -" "I AM AWARE OF THIS IDIOT," said Professor Burning Pain Skeleton. "I HAVE PLANS TO WAKE THE SLEEPING PILLARS OF FLAME AND IGNITE THE SKY ALREADY, YOU NEEDN’T REMIND ME!!!" The Defense Professor was wearing a very odd smile as the flames formed into fangs and liquid fire dripped off of them. "I SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT OF HOW WEAK YOUR FLESH MAKES YOU TO THE BURNING BLOOD OF THE EARTH!! TELL ME DISCIPLE, WERE YOU TO WISH SOMETHING UNFOUND, HOW WOULD YOU DO IT!?!!" Harry considered this question. "I suppose I shouldn't ask what you've found that needs losing -" "NO! YOU SHOULD DARE NOT TOO," hell screeched Professor Burning Pain Skeleton, as Harry winced and backed away from the expected response; and then, "PERHAPS WE SHALL TRADE SECRETS AND FAVORS BEFORE THE ENDING," which Harry hadn't. Though he trembled at the thought of the day Professor Burning Pain Skeleton regarded him as worthy of his notice. Better a worm before the beast-killer than a mouse that might make a sport to play with. "Well," said Harry, "besides trying to get it into the molten core of the planet, you could bury it in solid rock a kilometer underground in a randomly selected location - maybe teleport it in, if there's some way to do that blindly, or drill a hole and repair the hole afterward; the important thing would be not to leave any traces leading there, so it's just an anonymous cubic meter somewhere in the Earth's crust. You could drop it into the Mariana Trench, that's the deepest depth of ocean on the planet - or just pick some random other ocean trench, to make it less obvious. If you could make it buoyant and invisible, then you could throw it into the stratosphere. Or ideally you would launch it into space, with a cloak against detection, and a randomly fluctuating acceleration factor that would take it out of the Solar System. And afterward, of course, you'd Obliviate yourself, so even you didn't know exactly where it was." The Defense Professor was laughing, and it sounded even odder than his smile. It was a merciless force, each twisting noise warping the world around them. Making Harry feel sick, as if gravity was wrong. His legs were weak, and his blood felt funny in his veins. "Professor Burning Pain Skeleton?" Harry said. "EXCELLENT IDEAS FOR HIDING THAT WHICH YOU MUST HIDE!! THAT WHICH MUST NOT BE FOUND LESS RUIN COME TO THREADS OF FATE YOU WISH TO KINDLE," cried out the dreadful triumphant voice of Professor Burning Pain Skeleton. His mirth the very antithesis of living joy. The backwards scratches of a newborn babes laughter upon existence. "TELL ME DISCIPLE, WHY THOSE ONES!?!" "Huh?" said Harry. "They just seemed like the obvious sorts of ideas." "THEY DO!?" cried out the possibly laughing, likely maddening voice of Professor Burning Pain Skeleton as his smoke robes bellowed out and ate the shadows around them. Leaving him a pillar of bone and fire in an ocean of the Nothing. "BUT IT IS INTERESTING TO THINK THAT YOU INTEND TO DO THINGS LIKE THAT ALWAYS DISCIPLE. IT IS GOOD TO… FINISHED THINGS! TO LET THE FIRE FULLY CONSUME ALL, TILL NOT BUT ASH REMAINS!!! DISCIPLE, IT HAS BEEN AMUSING TO ME TO SEE SO MANY OF YOUR MAGGOT FEED FELLOWS CRY AND TO WATCH YOU KILL THAT WHICH WAS NEVER BORN!! THE BALEFUL LIFE FIRE SLIDES BEHIND THE BLEAK HILLS, AND I AM CONTENT FOR THE MOMENT!! TAKE PRIDE IN THAT DISCIPLE!! TAKE PRIDE IN YOUR SERVICE TO ME!!!" And they continued walking down the path that led to the gates of Hogwarts, quite some distance apart, more so then normal as the shroud of hell was quite strong; as Harry, without even thinking about it, automatically stayed far enough away from the Defense Professor not to trigger that sense of doom that foretold his imminent combustion, which for some reason seemed unusually strong right now. As if at any moment he too would be engulfed in fire. Forever.

#HP MOR #writing #my dumb fanfic stuff #burning pain skeleton

Burning Pain Skeleton Part 1

Professor Burning Pain Skeleton was a character I invented for a rewrite/riffing of Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality. A very, very long fanfic that I don’t think to be that good on the whole.

Since I’m rather proud of some of these parts, I’ve decided to republish them here. The original unaltered text is from the aforementioned story.

(Originally posted in the Spacebattles Let’s Read

"Unbelievable," said Dumbledore in a voice that sounded much weaker than his accustomed boom. "A corporeal Patronus, in his first year. And an astounding number of successes among the other young students. Burning Pain Skeleton, I must acknowledge that you have proved your point." Professor Burning Pain Skeleton inclined his head, the eternal crown of hell flames licking upwards in their cavernous hunger to consume the tapestries of the great hall. "PATHETIC CONCLUSION FLESH TINDER. DEMENTOR'S FEED ON WEAKLINGS FEAR, YOUR FOOLISH MAGGOT FEED SPAWN ARE LESS AFRAID." "Less afraid?" said Auror Goryanof from where he was sitting, backing away as the inferno threatened to break loose and consume them all. "So I said as well," said Dumbledore. "And Professor Burning Pain Skeleton pointed out that adults had more courage, not less to fear; which thought, I confess, had never occurred to me before." "I ALREADY SAID THAT BEARDED FOOL, LISTEN OR MUST I HELL SCREAM UNTIL YOUR BRAIN BOILS," Professor Burning Pain Skeleton said dryly, like the savanna before a twisted storm of fire streaks across it. Promising the end of days as it does, "BUT IT SUFFICES. DO YOU WISH TO TEST MY SOUL SCORCHED WORDS, DUMBLE-DEAD?" "As you say," Dumbledore said reluctantly. "I admit I was not expecting to lose that wager over all those poor puppies, Burning Pain Skeleton, but you have proven your wisdom... and the everlasting light of your hellish incandescence." All the students were looking at them, puzzled; except Hermione, who was staring in the direction of the cage and the tall decaying robes; and Harry, who was watching everyone, since he was imagining himself feeling paranoid. Save for Professor Burning Pain Skeleton, since it hurt to look at him for too long. Professor Burning Pain Skeleton said, in tones that did not invite further comments... for obvious reasons, "I WILL TEACH THESE INNOCENTS TO KILL! TO REND!! TO RIP OUT YOUR STILL SCREAMING SOULS AND PLUNGE THEM INTO MY MAW!!! ALL WILL LEARN THE BLESSED SILENCE BRINGER, ALL MY STUDENTS SHALL BE BLOODED AND BEAUTIFUL IN THEIR CORRUPTION! WHICH WILL RENDER THEM SAFE SURROUNDED BY THE CORPSES OF THEIR ENEMIES... AND OTHER PESTS, THOUGH THEY SHOULD ALSO LEARN TO UNLEASH A PURIFYING FLAME TO CLEANSE THIS WORLD OF YOUR WEAK FLESH." Professor Burning Pain Skeleton paused, his eyes narrowing, or as much as two blood red suns captured from the skies of Lost Carcosa at the night the Unspeakable One did plunge that city into oblivion uncharted. "DEAD-TO-DUMBLERIGHTS, I WISH TO RETIRE FROM THESE WEAKLINGS. LET THE ILL-BREED MIDGET STRIVE TO HOLD OFF THE SHADOW CAST BY MY LIGHT UPON YOUR DYING WORLD!!!" Dumbledore shook his head, sweat falling from his brow for standing so close for so long next to the twisted hell sorcerer. "We are almost done for the day, Burning Pain Skeleton. I will last." *** "The Dementor! " said Hermione. Her voice rose to a shriek. "Professor Burning Pain Skeleton wants it to eat you! " In the sudden hush, Professor Burning Pain Skeleton came forward a few steps, each one scorching a black foot print into the stone as if the Satan himself had stood there; but he didn't approach any closer (Harry was there, after all, and it would not do any good to incinerate his disciple). "MEWLING GIRL CHILD," he said, and his voice was a grave echoing hellscape as he held out the melted bubbling goo in asbestos gloves and aluminum foil singed upon the edges, "EAT THIS GIFT OF THE BLACK GOAT. IT WILL STRENGTHEN YOUR WORTHLESS BLOOD FOR THE TRIALS TO COME!" "Professor Flitwick, don't let Harry try, send him back! " The Headmaster had arrived by then, and he and Professor Flitwick were exchanging worried looks. "I did not hear the Dementor speak," the Headmaster said. "Still..." "DO NO MIND THE FIRE SHADOW. IT IS IGNORANT OF THE TRUTH," said Professor Burning Pain Skeleton, sounding a positively furious, annoyed that his dark servant might have made the imbeciles around him finally aware of his true nature.. *** (The Headmaster had said nothing to the other students, told no one else to be less brave; but Professor Burning Pain Skeleton had calmly observed that if you made the mistake after being warned, that was when ignorance became stupidity.) "Professor Burning Pain Skeleton?" Harry said in a low voice, having come as close to the Defense Professor as he dared. "What do you see when you -" "IT IS NOT FOR YOUR PATHETIC MEAT MIND TO CONCEIVE MY TRUE NATURE!!" The voice was very flat. Like an infinite waste of reflected obsidian under a grey sky. Harry nodded fearfully. "What was your original phrasing to the Headmaster, if I can ask?" Drier still then the burning of a thousand dying worlds, "THE WOUNDS OF YOUTH GROW SEPTIC AND ROTTEN, ONLY FLAME CAN HEAL! ONLY FIRE CAN FREE YOU OF YOUR WEAKNESS!!!" "Ah," Harry said. "Logical." Something strange and more terrible than normal flickered in Professor Burning Pain Skeleton's eyes, a world of countless souls plunging into them and screaming at once as they were snuffed out, then, as he looked at Harry. "PRAY TO YOUR FLESHLING GODS," Professor Burning Pain Skeleton fire screamed, "THAT YOU SUCCEED IN YOUR PROMISE TO ME DISCIPLE! FOR IF YOU DO THE AGED CORPSE TINDER WILL TEACH YOU THE SECRETS OF MESSAGING BY MORTAL SOUL FIRE! IT WILL AID YOUR CHILD ARMY TO DESTROY IT'S OPPOSITION, AND LATER YOUR TRUE LEGIONS TO DO THE SAME TO THIS ENTIRE TOO MOIST ISLAND, TILL ALL IS SMOKE AND FIRE. BUT IF YOU FAIL ME DISCIPLE!!!!." Professor Burning Pain Skeleton's voice was cratering thing, digging into reality and tearing it apart, leaving a gaping twisted scorching wound in the air around him. The tables smoked and children cried, the demontor shuddered and fled to the far side of its cage. Every tapestry exploded into a shower of sparks and putrid smoke. Hogwarts was burning Hogwarts was burning, and all Harry could see were those two blood red orbs balefully glaring down at him.

#writing #my dumb fanfic stuff #HP MOR #Burning Pain Skeleton

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Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality

Chapter 18: Dominance Hierarchies

Even J.K. Rowling knew that children can be insufferable.

"That does sound like the sort of thing I would do, doesn't it?"

It was breakfast time on Friday morning. Harry took another huge bite out of his toast and then tried to remind his brain that scarfing his breakfast wouldn't actually get him into the dungeons any faster. Anyway they had a full hour of study time between breakfast and the start of Potions.

But dungeons! In Hogwarts! Harry's imagination was already sketching the chasms, narrow bridges, torchlit sconces, and patches of glowing moss. Would there be rats? Would there be dragons?

"Harry Potter," said a quiet voice from behind him.

Harry looked over his shoulder and found himself beholding Ernie Macmillan, smartly dressed in yellow-trimmed robes and looking a little worried.

"Neville thought I should warn you," Ernie said in a low voice. "I think he's right. Be careful of the Potions Master in our session today. The older Hufflepuffs told us that Professor Snape can be really nasty to people he doesn't like, and he doesn't like most people who aren't Slytherins. If you say anything smart to him it... it could be really bad for you, from what I've heard. Just keep your head down and don't give him any reason to notice you."

There was a pause as Harry processed this, and then he lifted his eyebrows. (Harry wished he could raise just one eyebrow, like Spock, but he'd never been able to manage.) "Thanks," Harry said. "You might've just saved me a lot of trouble."

Ernie nodded, and turned to go back to the Hufflepuff table.

Harry resumed eating his toast.

It was around four bites afterward that someone said "Pardon me," and Harry turned around to see an older Ravenclaw, looking a little worried -

Some time later, Harry was finishing up his third plate of rashers. (He'd learned to eat heavily at breakfast. He could always eat lightly at lunch if he didn't end up using the Time-Turner.) And there was yet another voice from behind him saying "Harry?"

"Yes," Harry said wearily, "I'll try not to draw Professor Snape's attention -"

"Oh, that's hopeless," said Fred.

"Completely hopeless," said George.

"So we had the house elves bake you a cake," said Fred.

"We're going to put one candle on it for every point you lose for Ravenclaw," said George.

"And have a party for you at the Gryffindor table during lunch," said Fred.

"We hope that'll cheer you up afterward," finished George.

Harry swallowed his last bite of rasher and turned around. "All right," said Harry. "I wasn't going to ask this after Professor Binns, I really wasn't, but if Professor Snape is that awful why hasn't he been fired?"

"Fired?" said Fred.

"You mean, let go?" said George.

"Yes," Harry said. "It's what you do to bad teachers. You fire them. Then you hire a better teacher instead. You don't have unions or tenure here, right?"

Fred and George were frowning in much the same way that hunter-gatherer tribal elders might frown if you tried to tell them about calculus.

"I don't know," said Fred after a while. "I never thought about that."

"Me neither," said George.

"Yeah," said Harry, "I get that a lot. See you at lunch, guys, and don't blame me if there aren't any candles on that cake."

Fred and George both laughed, as if Harry had said something funny, and bowed to him and headed back toward Gryffindor.

Harry turned back to the breakfast table and grabbed a cupcake. His stomach already felt full, but he had a feeling this morning might use a lot of calories.

As he ate his cupcake, Harry thought of the worst teacher he'd met so far, Professor Binns of History. Professor Binns was a ghost. From what Hermione had said about ghosts, it didn't seem likely that they were fully self-aware. There were no famous discoveries made by ghosts, or much of any original work, no matter who they'd been in life. Ghosts tended to have trouble remembering the current century. Hermione had said they were like accidental portraits, impressed into the surrounding matter by a burst of psychic energy accompanying a wizard's sudden death.

Harry had run into some stupid teachers during his abortive forays into standard Muggle education - his father had been a lot pickier when it came to selecting grad students as tutors, of course - but History class was the first time he'd encountered a teacher who literally wasn't sentient.

And it showed, too. Harry had given up after five minutes and started reading a textbook. When it became clear that "Professor Binns" wasn't going to object, Harry had also reached into his pouch and gotten earplugs.

Did ghosts not require a salary? Was that it? Or was it literally impossible to fire anyone in Hogwarts even if they died?

Now it seemed that Professor Snape was going about being absolutely awful to everyone who wasn't a Slytherin and it hadn't even occurred to anyone to terminate his contract.

And the Headmaster had set fire to a chicken.

"Excuse me," came a worried voice from behind him.

"I swear," Harry said without turning around, "this place is almost eight and a half percent as bad as what Dad says about Oxford."

Harry stamped down the stone corridors, looking affronted, annoyed, and infuriated all at once.

"Dungeons!" Harry hissed. "Dungeons! These are not dungeons! This is a basement! Abasement! "

Some of the Ravenclaw girls gave him odd looks. The boys were all used to him by now.

It seemed that the level in which the Potions classroom was located was called the "dungeons" for no better reason than that it was below ground and slightly colder than the main castle.

In Hogwarts! In Hogwarts! Harry had been waiting his whole life and now he was still waiting and if there was anywhere on the face of the Earth that had decent dungeons it ought to be Hogwarts! Was Harry going to have to build his own castle if he wanted to see one little bottomless abyss?

A short time later they got to the actual Potions classroom and Harry cheered up considerably.

The Potions classroom had strange preserved creatures floating in huge jars on shelves that covered every centimeter of wall space between the closets. Harry had gotten far enough along in his reading now that he could actually identify some of the creatures, like the Zabriskan Fontema. Albeit the fifty-centimeter spider looked like an Acromantula but it was too small to be one. He'd tried asking Hermione, but she hadn't seemed very interested in looking anywhere near where he was pointing.

Harry was looking at a large dust ball with eyes and feet when the assassin swept into the room.

That was the first thought that crossed Harry's mind when he saw Professor Severus Snape. There was something quiet and deadly about the way the man stalked between the children's desks. His robes were unkempt, his hair spotted and greasy. There was something about him that seemed reminiscent of Lucius, although the two of them looked nothing remotely alike, and you got the impression that where Lucius would kill you with flawless elegance, this man would simply kill you.

"Sit down," said Professor Severus Snape. "Now."

Harry and a few other children who had been standing around talking to each other scrambled for desks. Harry had planned on ending up next to Hermione but somehow he found himself sitting down in the nearest empty desk next to Justin Finch-Fletchley (it was a Doubles session, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff) which put him two desks to the left of Hermione.

Severus seated himself behind the teacher's desk, and without the slightest transition or introduction, said, "Hannah Abbott."

"Here," said Hannah in a somewhat trembling voice.

"Susan Bones."

"Present."

And so it went, no one daring to say a word in edgewise, until:

"Ah, yes. Harry Potter. Our new... celebrity."

"The celebrity is present, sir."

Half the class flinched, and some of the smarter ones suddenly looked like they wanted to run out the door while the classroom was still there.

Severus smiled in an anticipatory sort of way and called the next name on his list.

Harry gave a mental sigh. That had happened way too fast for him to do anything about it. Oh well. Clearly this man already didn't like him, for whatever reason. And when Harry thought about it, better by far that this Potions professor should pick on him rather than, say, Neville or Hermione. Harry was a lot better able to defend himself. Yep, probably all for the best.

When full attendance had been taken, Severus swept his gaze over the full class. His eyes were as empty as a night sky without stars.

"You are here," Severus said in a quiet voice which the students at back strained to hear, "to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins," this in a rather caressing, gloating tone, "bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses," this was just getting creepier and creepier. "I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as great a pack of fools as I usually have to teach."

Severus somehow seemed to notice the look of skepticism on Harry's face, or at least his eyes suddenly jumped to where Harry was sitting.

"Potter!" snapped the Potions professor. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry blinked. "Was that in Magical Drafts and Potions?" he said. "I just finished reading it, and I don't remember anything which used wormwood -"

Hermione's hand went up and Harry shot her a glare which caused her to raise her hand even higher.

"Tut, tut," Severus said silkily. "Fame clearly isn't everything."

"Really?" Harry said. "But you just told us you'd teach us how to bottle fame. Say, how does that work, exactly? You drink it and turn into a celebrity?"

Three-quarters of the class flinched.

Hermione's hand was dropping slowly back down. Well, that wasn't surprising. She might be his rival, but she wasn't the sort of girl who would play along after it became clear that the professor was deliberately trying to humiliate him.

Harry was trying hard to keep control of his temper. The first rejoinder that had crossed his mind was 'Abracadabra'.

"Let's try again," said Severus. "Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

"That's not in the textbook either," Harry said, "but in one Muggle book I read that a trichinobezoar is a mass of solidified hair found in a human stomach, and Muggles used to believe it would cure any poison -"

"Wrong," Severus said. "A bezoar is found in the stomach of a goat, it is not made of hair, and it will cure most poisons but not all."

"I didn't say it would, I said that was what I read in one Muggle book -"

"No one here is interested in your pathetic Muggle books. Final try. What is the difference, Potter, between monksblood and wolfsbane?"

That did it.

"You know," Harry said icily, "in one of my quite fascinating Muggle books, they describe a study in which people managed to make themselves look very smart by asking questions about random facts that only they knew. Apparently the onlookers only noticed that the askers knew and the answerers didn't, and failed to adjust for the unfairness of the underlying game. So, Professor, can you tell me how many electrons are in the outermost orbital of a carbon atom?"

Severus's smile widened. "Four," he said. "It is a useless fact which no one should bother writing down, however. And for your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite, as you would know if you had read One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. Thought you didn't need to open the book before coming, eh, Potter? All the rest of you should be copying that down so that you will not be as ignorant as him." Severus paused, looking quite pleased with himself. "And that will be... five points? No, let us make it an even ten points from Ravenclaw for backchat."

Hermione gasped, along with a number of others.

"Professor Severus Snape," Harry bit out. "I know of nothing which I have done to earn your enmity. If there is some problem you have with me which I do not know about, I suggest we -"

"Shut up, Potter. Ten more points from Ravenclaw. The rest of you, open your books to page 3."

There was only a slight, only a very faint burning sensation in the back of Harry's throat, and no moisture at all in his eyes. If crying was not an effective strategy for destroying this Potions professor then there was no point in crying.

Slowly, Harry sat up very straight. All his blood seemed to have been drained away and replaced with liquid nitrogen. He knew he'd been trying to keep his temper but he couldn't seem to remember why.

"Harry," whispered Hermione frantically from two desks over, "stop, please, it's all right, we won't count it -"

"Talking in class, Granger? Three -"

"So," said a voice colder than zero Kelvin, "how does one go about filing a formal complaint against an abusive professor? Does one talk to the Deputy Headmistress, write a letter to the Board of Governors... would you care to explain how it works?"

The class was utterly frozen.

"Detention for one month, Potter," Severus said, smiling even more broadly.

"I decline to recognize your authority as a teacher and I will not serve any detention you give."

People stopped breathing.

Severus's smile vanished. "Then you will be -" his voice stopped short.

"Expelled, were you about to say?" Harry, on the other hand, was now smiling thinly. "But then you seemed to doubt your ability to carry out the threat, or fear the consequences if you did. I, on the other hand, neither doubt nor fear the prospect of finding a school with less abusive professors. Or perhaps I should hire private tutors, as is my accustomed practice, and be taught at my full learning speed. I have enough money in my vault. Something about bounties on a Dark Lord I defeated. But there are teachers at Hogwarts who I rather like, so I think it will be easier if I find some way to get rid of you instead."

"Get rid of me?" Severus said, now also smiling thinly. "What an amusing conceit. How do you suppose you will do that, Potter?"

"I understand there have been a number of complaints about you from students and their parents," a guess but a safe one, "which leaves only the question of why you're not already gone. Is Hogwarts too financially strapped to afford a real Potions professor? I could chip in, if so. I'm sure they could find a better class of teacher if they offered double your current salary."

Two poles of ice radiated freezing winter across the classroom.

"You will find," Severus said softly, "that the Board of Governers is not the slightest bit sympathetic to your offer."

"Lucius..." Harry said. "That's why you're still here. Perhaps I should chat with Lucius about that. I believe he desires to meet with me. I wonder if I have anything he wants?"

Hermione frantically shook her head. Harry noticed out of the corner of his eye, but his attention was all on Severus.

"You are a very foolish boy," Severus said. He wasn't smiling at all, now. "You have nothing that Lucius values more than my friendship. And if you did, I have other allies." His voice grew hard. "And I find it increasingly unlikely that you were not Sorted into Slytherin. How was it that you managed to stay out of my House? Ah, yes, because the Sorting Hat claimed it was joking. For the first time in recorded history. What were you really chatting about with the Sorting Hat, Potter? Did you have something that it wanted?"

Harry stared into Severus's cold gaze and remembered that the Sorting Hat had warned him not to meet anyone's eyes while thinking about - Harry dropped his gaze to Severus's desk.

"You seem oddly reluctant to look me in the eyes, Potter!"

A shock of sudden understanding - "So it was you the Sorting Hat was warning me about!"

"What?" said Severus's voice, sounding genuinely surprised, though of course Harry didn't look at his face.

Harry got up out of his desk.

"Sit down, Potter," said an angry voice from somewhere he wasn't looking.

Harry ignored it, and looked around the classroom. "I have no intention of letting one unprofessional teacher ruin my time at Hogwarts," Harry said with deadly calm. "I think I'll take my leave of this class, and either hire a tutor to teach me Potions while I'm here, or if the Board is really that locked up, learn over the summer. If any of you decide that you don't care to be bullied by this man, my sessions will be open to you."

"Sit down, Potter!"

Harry strode across the room and grasped the doorknob.

It didn't turn.

Harry slowly turned around, and caught a glimpse of Severus smiling nastily before he remembered to look away.

"Open this door."

"No," said Severus.

"You are making me feel threatened," said a voice so icy it didn't sound like Harry's at all, "and that is a mistake."

Severus's voice laughed. "What do you intend to do about it, little boy?"

Harry took six long strides forward away from the door, until he was standing near the back row of desks.

Then Harry drew himself upright and raised his right hand in one terrible motion, fingers poised to snap.

Neville screamed and dived under his desk. Other children shrank back or instinctively raised their arms to shield themselves.

"Harry don't!" shrieked Hermione. "Whatever you were going to do to him, don't do it!"

"Have you all gone mad?" barked Severus's voice.

Slowly, Harry lowered his hand. "I wasn't going to hurt him, Hermione," Harry said, his voice a little lower. "I was just going to blow up the door."

Though now that Harry remembered it, you weren't supposed to Transfigure things that were to be burned, which meant that going back in time afterward and getting Fred or George to Transfigure some carefully measured amount of explosives might not actually have been such a good idea...

"Silencio," said Severus's voice.

Harry tried to say "What?" and found that no sound was coming out.

"This has become ridiculous. I think you've been allowed to get yourself in enough trouble for one day, Potter. You are the most disruptive and unruly student I have ever seen, and I don't recall how many points Ravenclaw has right now, but I'm sure I can manage to wipe them all out. Ten points from Ravenclaw. Ten points from Ravenclaw. Ten points from Ravenclaw! Fifty points from Ravenclaw! Now sit down and watch the rest of the class take their lesson!"

Harry put his hand into his pouch and tried to say 'marker' but of course no words came out. Had he known sign language he could have experimented with sending non-verbal commands to the pouch – which could have resulted in highly-positive consequences if he ever needed to retrieve something without anyone finding out – but alas, as a 10-year-old Anglo-Saxon raised in an ethnocentric community, he had not even bothered with studying a foreign language, let alone learning to communicate with the deaf.

He needed to escape fast, or risk his classmates’ assumptions that he’d been foiled by this insufferable madman. All eyes were on him: his anger was quickly clouding his vision, his fists began to shake.

“Now then,” Severus almost whispered, his eyes fixed on Harry’s trembling body, a smile hiding in the corners of his mouth, “the rest of you, I said, page 3.”

Before he could think, Harry reached for the nearest shelf and with one broad swipe of his arm knocked over as many jars as he could onto the ground, not caring what inside any of them. The students startled and stared, and Harry quickly began to assault the full contents of the shelf. Vials broke, potions flew, liquids landed on a nearby Hufflepuff’s robe which immediately began to disintegrate, bursts of color-filled smoke were permeated in the classroom.

"You're insane, Potter," Severus said with cold contempt.

Aside from that, no one spoke.

The last thing Harry remembered was turning to face Severus with an accusing look on his face, you caused this you maniacal bully, at the same time that a flash of light burst from Professor Snape’s wand and blackness turned off his world.

It was when Harry woke up in an unfamiliar room with a note elegantly written with: Come in, when you’re ready, that some of the anger drained away and he realized what he'd just done.

What he'd just done.

Harry's face was frozen in absolute horror.

He'd antagonized a teacher three orders of magnitude beyond anything he'd ever managed before. He'd threatened to walk out of Hogwarts and might have to follow through on it. He'd lost all the points Ravenclaw had and then he'd used the Time-Turner...

His imagination showed him his parents yelling at him after he was expelled, Professor McGonagall disappointed in him, and it was just too painful and he couldn't bear it and he couldn't think of any way to save himself -

The thought that Harry allowed himself to think was that if getting angry had gotten him into all this trouble, then maybe when he was angry he'd think of a way out, things seemed clearer somehow when he was angry.

And the thought that Harry didn't let himself think was that he just couldn't face this future if he wasn't angry.

So he cast his thoughts back and remembered the burning humiliation -

Tut, tut. Fame clearly isn't everything.

Ten points from Ravenclaw for backchat.

The calming cold washed back through his veins like a wave reflected and returning from some breaker, and Harry let out his breath.

Okay. Back to being sane now.

He was actually feeling a bit disappointed in his non-angry self for collapsing like that and wanting only to get out of trouble. Professor Severus Snape was everyone's problem. Normal-Harry had forgotten that and wished for a way to protect himself. And let all the other victims go hang? The question wasn't how to protect himself, the question was how to destroy this Potions professor.

So this is my dark side, is it? Bit of a prejudiced term that, my light side seems more selfish and cowardly, not to mention confused and panicky.

And now that he was thinking clearly, it was equally clear what to do next. He had already realized that he was in a room adjoining Headmaster Dumbledore’s office – he could hear him, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Snape talking quietly – and all he had to do was open the door and, in perfectly rational terms, demand Snape’s expulsion from the school.

Minerva McGonagall waited in the Headmaster's office.

Dumbledore sat in his padded throne behind his desk, dressed in four layers of formal lavender robes. Minerva sat in a chair before him, opposite Severus in another chair. Facing the three of them was an empty wooden stool.

They were waiting for Harry Potter, who was asleep in a supply room next door.

Harry, Minerva thought despairingly, you promised you wouldn't bite any teachers!

And in her mind she could see very clearly the reply, Harry's angry face and his outraged response: I said I wouldn't bite anyone who didn't bite me first!

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in!" Dumbledore called.

The door swept open, and Harry Potter entered. Minerva almost gasped out loud. The boy looked cool, collected, and utterly in control of himself.

"Good mor-" Harry's voice suddenly cut off. His jaw dropped.

Minerva tracked Harry's gaze, and she saw that Harry was staring at Fawkes where the phoenix sat on its golden perch. Fawkes fluttered his bright red-golden wings like the flickering of a flame, and dipped his head in a measured nod to the boy.

Harry turned to stare at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore winked at him.

Minerva felt she was missing something.

Sudden uncertainty crossed Harry's face. His coolness wavered. Fear showed in his eyes, then anger, and then the boy was calm again.

A chill went down Minerva's spine. Something was not right here.

"Please sit down," said Dumbledore. His face was now serious once more.

Harry sat.

"So, Harry," said Dumbledore. "I've heard one report of this day from Professor Snape. Would you care to tell me what happened in your own words?"

Harry's gaze flicked dismissively to Severus. "It's not complicated," said the boy, smiling thinly. "He tried bullying me the way he's been bullying every non-Slytherin in the school since the day Lucius foisted him off on you. As for the other details, I request a private conversation with you concerning them. A student who is reporting abusive behavior from a professor can hardly be expected to speak frankly in front of that same professor, after all."

This time Minerva couldn't stop herself from gasping out loud.

Severus simply laughed.

And the Headmaster's face grew grave. "Mr. Potter," the Headmaster said, "one does not speak of a Hogwarts professor in such terms. I fear that you labor under a terrible misapprehension. Professor Severus Snape has my fullest confidence, and serves Hogwarts at my own behest, not Lucius Malfoy's."

There was silence for a few moments.

When the boy spoke again his voice was icy. "Am I missing something here?"

"Quite a number of things, Mr. Potter," said the Headmaster. "You should understand, to start with, that the purpose of this meeting is to discuss how to discipline you for the events of this morning."

"This man has terrorized your school for years. I spoke to students and collected stories to make sure there would be enough for a newspaper campaign to rally the parents against him. Some of the younger students cried while they told me. I almost cried when I heard them! You allowed this abuser to run free? You did this to your students? Why? "

Minerva swallowed a lump in her throat. She'd - thought that, sometimes, but somehow she'd never quite -

"Mr. Potter," said the Headmaster, his voice now stern, "this meeting is not about Professor Snape. It is about you and your disregard for school discipline. Professor Snape has suggested, and I have agreed, that three full months of detention will be appropriate -"

"Declined," Harry said icily.

Minerva was speechless.

"This is not a request, Mr. Potter," the Headmaster said. The full, entire force of the wizard's gaze was turned on the boy. "This is your punishme-"

"You will explain to me why you allowed this man to hurt the children placed in your care, and if your explanation is not sufficient then I will begin my newspaper campaign with you as the target."

Minerva's body swayed with the force of that blow, with the sheer raw lese majeste.

Even Severus looked shocked.

"That, Harry, would be most extremely unwise," Dumbledore said slowly. "I am the primary piece opposing Lucius on the gameboard. For you to do such a thing would strengthen him greatly, and I did not think that was your chosen side."

The boy was still for a long moment.

"This conversation grows private," Harry said. His hand flicked in Severus's direction. "Send him away."

Dumbledore shook his head. "Harry, did I not tell you that Severus Snape has my fullest confidence?"

The boy's face showed the shock of it. "This man's bullying makes you vulnerable! I am not the only one who could start a newspaper campaign against you! This is insane! Why are you doing this?"

Dumbledore sighed. "I'm sorry, Harry. It has to do with things that you are not, at this time, ready to hear."

The boy stared at Dumbledore. Then he turned to look at Severus. Then back to Dumbledore again.

"It is insanity," the boy said slowly. "You haven't reined him in because you think he's part of the pattern. That Hogwarts needs an evil Potions Master to be a proper magical school, just as it needs a ghost to teach History."

"That does sound like the sort of thing I would do, doesn't it?" said Dumbledore, smiling.

"Unacceptable," Harry said flatly. His gaze was now cold and dark. "I will not tolerate bullying or abuse. I had considered many possible ways of dealing with this problem, but I will make it simple. Either this man goes, or I do."

Minerva gasped again. Something strange flickered in Severus's eyes.

Now Dumbledore's gaze was also growing cold. "Expulsion, Mr. Potter, is the final threat which may be used against a student. It is not customarily used as a threat by students against the Headmaster. This is the best magical school in the entire world, and an education here is not an opportunity given to everyone. Are you under the impression that Hogwarts cannot get along without you?"

And Harry sat there, smiling thinly.

Sudden horror dawned on Minerva. Surely Harry wouldn't -

"You forget," Harry said, "that you're not the only one who can see patterns. This grows private. Now send him -" Harry flicked a hand at Severus again, and then stopped in mid-sentence and mid-gesture.

Minerva could see it on Harry's face, the moment when he remembered.

She'd told him, after all.

"Mr. Potter," said the Headmaster, "once again, Severus Snape has my fullest confidence."

"You told him," whispered the boy. "You utter fool."

Dumbledore didn't react to the insult. "Told him what?"

"That the Dark Lord is alive."

"What in Merlin's name are you on about, Potter? " cried Severus in tones of sheer astonishment and outrage.

Harry glanced briefly at him, smiling grimly. "Oh, so we are a Slytherin, then," Harry said. "I was starting to wonder."

And then there was silence.

Finally Dumbledore spoke. His voice was mild. "Harry, what are you talking about?"

"I'm sorry, Albus," Minerva whispered.

Severus and Dumbledore turned to look at her.

"Professor McGonagall didn't tell me," said Harry's voice, swiftly and less calm than it had been. "I guessed. I told you, I can see the patterns too. I guessed, and she controlled her reaction just as Severus did. But her control fell a shade short of perfection, and I could tell it was control, not genuine."

"And I told him," said Minerva, her voice trembling a little, "that you, and I, and Severus were the only ones who knew."

"Which she did as a concession to prevent me from simply going around asking questions, as I threatened to do if she didn't talk," Harry said. The boy chuckled briefly. "I really should have gotten one of you alone and told you that she told me everything, to see if you let anything slip. Probably wouldn't have worked, but would have been worth a shot." The boy smiled again. "Threat's still on the table and I do expect to be briefed fully at some point."

Severus was giving her a look of utter contempt. Minerva raised her chin and bore it. She knew it was deserved.

Dumbledore leaned back in his padded throne. His eyes were as cold as anything Minerva had seen from him since the day his brother died. "And you threaten to abandon us to Voldemort if we do not comply with your wishes."

Harry's voice was razor-sharp. "I regret to inform you that you are not the center of the universe. I'm not threatening to walk out on magical Britain. I'm threatening to walk out on you. I am not a meek little Frodo. This is my quest and if you want in you will play by my rules."

Dumbledore's face was still cold. "I am beginning to doubt your suitability as the hero, Mr. Potter."

Harry's return gaze was equally icy. "I am beginning to doubt your suitability as my Gandalf, Mr. Dumbledore. Boromir was at least a plausible mistake. What is this Nazgul doing in my Fellowship?"

Minerva was completely lost. She looked at Severus, to see if he was following this, and she saw that Severus had turned his face away from Harry's field of vision and was smiling.

"I suppose," Dumbledore said slowly, "that from your perspective it is a reasonable question. So, Mr. Potter, if Professor Snape is to leave you alone henceforth, will that be the last time this issue arises, or will I find you here every week with a new demand?"

"Leave me alone?" Harry's voice was outraged. "I am not his only victim and certainly not the most vulnerable! Have you forgotten how defenseless children are? How much they hurt? Henceforth Severus will treat every student of Hogwarts with appropriate and professional courtesy, or you will find another Potions Master, or you will find another hero!"

Dumbledore started laughing. Full-throated, warm, humorous laughter, as if Harry had just performed a comic dance in front of him.

Minerva didn't dare move. Her eyes flickered and she saw that Severus was equally motionless.

Harry's visage grew even colder. "You mistake me, Headmaster, if you think that this is a joke. This is not a request. This is your punishment."

"Mr. Potter -" Minerva said. She didn't even know what she was going to say. She simply couldn't let that go by.

Harry made a shushing gesture at her and continued to speak to Dumbledore. "And if that seems impolite to you," Harry said, his voice now a little less hard, "it seemed no less impolite when you said it to me. You would not say such a thing to anyone who you considered a real human being instead of a subordinate child, and I will treat you with just the same courtesy as you treat me -"

“Enough.” The Headmaster paused, his face turning serious.

He spoke softly, but directly: “Harry, you must know, at a rational level, that you are, in fact, still a child – a child of great intelligence, who knows a great many deal of facts – but nonetheless still a child.”

Harry’s mind began to race furiously, if he thinks I’m just going to –

“Harry, my dear boy, think rationally at the facts you know about yourself: a ten-year-old boy is in his first plateau of neuronal development, and cannot be expected to begin his second round of neuron production until about twelve years old; you haven’t even reached puberty yet! The prefrontal cortex awaits the nourishment and refinement of adolescence, creating the much needed ‘area of sober thought.’

“Consequently, research shows that ten-year-olds score horribly in tasks designed to override a normal impulse to attend to new information and curiosity about something forbidden; they have a fifty-fifty chance of avoiding this stimuli, a toss of a coin’s chance. Already, in just this week, we have seen you fail spectacularly at controlling your impulses in every area of your new life, and my previous conversations with Professor McGonagall show that you seek out the forbidden regardless of any consequences. And we haven’t even discussed your lack of impulse control in dealing with authority!”

“I will not be bullied by a madman - !”

“My point exactly! Unrepentant in your inability to control your urge to lash out in anger. This conversation is no-longer about Professor Snape, Harry, we shall address that momentarily, this conversation is about you. Your choices prove that you are completely driven by self-interest, typical of a ten-year-old in a pre-conventional level of moral reasoning. No, no, we have enough evidence; from your pranks on poor Mr. Longbottom (yes, Harry, I heard about that as well), to your curious courting of Mr. Malfoy: everything is done for your interest only. I cannot pretend that you are considerate to our social contracts as a wizarding community, I cannot pretend that you are empathetic to our new culture you are just beginning to explore, it is obvious that in your wisdom you do not consider our age as bringing far more experimental anecdotes about how the world works, and it is foolishness to think that at your age you could rationalize your behaviour by claiming to care about universal ethics.

“No, Mr. Potter, what matters most to you is that everyone see how right you are and how wrong they are, from bullies you have encountered to allies like Professor McGonagall; you are indiscriminate in how you deal with your peers. Particularly in your treatment of Professor McGonagall, Harry, who entrusted you with a dear gift of a Time Turner to treat your restless sleep, you have behaved most irresponsibly, to both our disappointment, using the device as you wish while ignoring every rule about its use that she set forth with your best interest in mind.

"You see, my dear boy, you are perfectly average for a ten-year-old boy. Above average in knowledge, certainly a real human being, but not a peer, not an adult, not a subordinate child, but yes: a child, nonetheless.

“And so, it is at this point that we must decide what to do about you.”

Harry scrambled for a reply, but it was hard to argue against scientific research regarding the human brain’s development from childhood to adolescence. He had read all the literature concerning it, of course, but had quickly dismissed it as inapplicable to himself since his intellect surely proved that his brain had already developed beyond his peers’, and obviously matched any full-grown adult’s. Surely this was the case with him, right? Surely he magically possessed the brain development of a grown adult, had somehow already made whatever extra neurons all people make in adolescence, and could match, no, better, an adult’s ability for good judgement?

Headmaster Dumbledore leaned back into his throne and casually put his arms behind his head, then stared wistfully at the enchanted ceiling for a very, very long time.

Harry Potter. No, Harry James Potter-Evans-Verres, to be exact. Even that, already, was a deviation from his plan. And what had he been planning, exactly? To protect the Boy Who Lived using the most effective resources he could imagine, for he knew the Dark Lord had not been completely vanquished and might find a way to come back. His first objective, of course, would be to destroy the Boy who first destroyed him.

The enchantments to protect him during childhood, the endless charms he had conjured for his unequivocal protection at Hogwart’s, his protection as an under-age wizard which should last for another seven years, all carefully thought-out to give him as much mobility as possible with guaranteed protection.

Harry James Potter-Evans-Verres was alive and well, right here in this room, exactly because Albus had protected him so.

But plans are nothing; planning is everything. And so, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore confronted the foolishness of his plans. It didn’t matter that he had left the child in the care of loving kin, far away from scrutiny in the wizarding community for the child’s sake, so that he could have a full and happy upbringing, no, this boy lacked even the most basic empathy imaginable for a child his age, and was so completely absorbed by himself that he could not comprehend the sacrifice so many had made for him. He was the most dangerous child to set foot at Hogwarts since Tom Riddle, and was well on his way to becoming the most dangerous wizard since in just three weeks’ worth of knowing that magic even existed.

He had failed to plan for that.

Albus thought back to the war, to the terror of so many years, friends lost, good wizards who’d fallen, unlucky ones tortured into madness barely hanging by at St. Mungo’s, the camaraderie of fighting for what was right but the draining, dulling hardship of endless uncertainty.

And then - the Boy Who Lived. How many good wizards had put themselves in harm's way to protect him? How many were willing to risk it all for this child? How many looked to him as a sign of hope, hope for a better future, hope that so many lives lost had not been in vain?

All to ultimately defeat the Dark Lord, and end the tyranny that had gripped the British Isles.

(Dumbledore was not foolish enough to hyperbolize England’s troubles into The Most Dangerous Time In All The World, when Voldemort had barely traveled abroad in his lifetime. How wrong it would be to pretend that Anglo-Saxon problems engulfed the whole world, that the problems of English-speaking countries affected the whole world, that the dark times of Britain superseded what was happening on the other side of the world).

So what to do about Harry Potter? The child was a horcrux of Voldemort, that much Dumbledore already knew, and while he’d planned to keep the child at Hogwarts for his safety, he also wanted to keep this particular relic close by his side while he figured out what to do about the rest. At the very least, he had seven years to figure out exactly how many other horcruxes there were, what they were, and where to find them.

He had planned on grooming Harry into the powerful wizard prophesied, and instill in him a love for others, the same love that he speculated had spared his little life, and a deep connection to the wizarding community, his community, his true self.

He could not cast him out of Hogwarts, away from protection, to die in the real world. Already there were so many bounties on his head, and many more on other parts of his body. But to keep him here at Hogwarts…? The child was a menace to himself, and to his classmates, and to the faculty, possibly even to the ghosts and perhaps even to the physical school itself. The institution could not be run with this Chaos Magnet running freely amok. Children had to learn. Magic had to be passed down. Society had to continue.

Albus sighed deeply, wearily; he opened his eyes, gently placed his hands on the black oaken desk, and finally acknowledged Minerva, Severus, and the Boy.

“I have reached a solution.”

It had been so long since any sound had been heard, that the three were startled even though they knew full well he was about to speak. He addressed Harry directly.

“You are not expelled, Harry, you will remain at Hogwarts.”

Severus and Minerva both visible winced.

“However, we must alter your education to better suit your needs. The first order of business is to fix your disastrous impulse control. You hereby lose all privilege to the Time Turner, Professor McGonagall will collect it immediately following - ”

“BUT - !”

“Silencio. Immobulus.”

Albus was done humoring the child. Any adult, really, would have been done humoring him far earlier than he’d allowed. He continued in a soft, quiet voice.

“As I was saying, Professor McGonagall will collect the Time Turner lent to you immediately following this meeting. I had thought to ask you to hand it over to her, but at this point I suspect the better solution is that she fetch it herself.

“You are hereby removed from all of your classes; I cannot have you disrupting your teachers and I will not jeopardize your classmates’ education. Here-forth, your education will be administered via private tutoring, and will be overseen by one person. That private instructor will be…”

Severus and Minerva were panicking, the former shooting daggers at the Headmaster and the latter having a visible anxiety attack from her chair.

“…the only faculty member with enough patience to handle your… eccentricities.”

Resigned, Albus continued: “I fear, the only one suited for that task, is me.”

Both Professors let out a long, loud sigh of relief. A little too loud, too real. Harry could but turn his eyes to look at them, and it dawned on him, just then, how much he was already disliked.

“I will send out an owl to the Wizengamot,” continued Dumbledore, “alerting them that I have taken on a special assignment and will not be able to advise them for the next couple of months. The sacrifice this will require, and how negatively this will reflect on my character, will no doubt be lost on you, Mr. Potter.

“We will meet for private tutoring at nine in the morning every day in a private hall, on the seventh floor, across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy.

“As a trial run, you will continue to sleep with your House and dine with the others, but all your belongings will be confiscated and you will have access only to your school clothes in a replacement trunk we will provide. Your books and textbooks will remain in our improvised classroom, your pouch and extra supplies will be kept under my watch. If you learn to control your impulses better, we will consider mainstreaming you with the rest of your classmates, though I fear you would consider their presence a step backwards in your education.

“We will consider what to do about the winter holidays at a later point in time.”

The Headmaster paused, and gathered his thoughts once more. “Severus, Minerva, our previous conversations has to wait for a later time. For now, let us begin preparations for Mr. Potter’s new accommodations.”

Harry’s mind was reeling. He should have been upset, no, furious, but then he thought at how relieved both Professors had been when they learnt they wouldn’t have to deal with him, anymore. A part of him was suddenly very, very sad. He thought about his angry side, the one he’d seen the day before. Was that his true self? Was he... was he really that bad?

Harry’s body levitated behind the three adults, all silently traversing the castle on their way to the Ravenclaw common room to confiscate Harry’s prized possessions.

As the Sorting Hat would have noted, Albus thought, that day had been a great fork in his destiny. There had been no choices beyond it, and only in hindsight could he see the road-signs set, marking the last place he could have turned back.

Ten years had passed since that fateful meeting.

Ten long, long years, years that drained him emotionally, nightmares he himself would only ever know.

Watching the boy turn ever more menacing in private lessons.

Students joining the army he had crafted after his chilling portrayal of normalcy had lulled them all into thinking they were winning his soul.

Terror when the students saw his true colors at the Hogsmeade riots.

And last, the pact with Malfoy, the secret meeting with Lucius, and the plot to replace him as Headmaster.

The realization that he couldn’t make the same mistake again, that madness would be trusting this boy as he had trusted Tom Riddle, all while expecting a different result.

Seared into his mind: the chill of winter suffocating their classroom, the morning light casting a soft glow, the first-year boy’s back turned to him as he devoured another one of his Machiavellian books, his Methods as he called them.

Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality.

It had a nice ring to it.

Nice is different than good.

The icy metal of the glock as he pointed at the back of the child’s head, and pulled the trigger.

A muffled sound, followed by a soft splat, grey matter spotting the ground.

No magic used meant no warning to the Ministry, exactly as Albus had planned.

And now, Godric’s Hollow, at the tomb of Harry James Potter-Evans-Verres, next to his – what did he always call them? – genetic parents’ graves. He pushed the memories of the fools who would forever mourn this boy’s death, fools for believing him, when any rational adult could see the truth.

Enough. It was done.

Some loose ends: he still had some horcruxes to track down, even now ten years later, just in case, but he had all the time in the world.

The greatest threat to the wizarding community,

the greatest threat to the memories of so many people,

the greatest threat to everything that so many held dear,

was dead.

All was right with the world, again.

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