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As I walked through the hallways of the school, my mind was in disarray, going from one thought to another.
Until now, I hadn't cared one bit about my relationships, how I spent my time, or news from outside.
So I asked myself: Did I not care enough, or was I simply so focused on magic that the world beyond faded into the background? I don't know, and I am starting to wonder why.
I genuinely don't know exactly how long it has been since I let myself out of Azkaban—yes, let myself out, not escaped—like a boss, if I say so myself—which, I might add, still feels rather empowering to think about…
Hmm? Yet again, I am experiencing this fleeting burst of childish pride and arrogance—I can't recall when it began, but these feelings come and go.
Was I a prideful person in my previous life? Honestly, I didn't remember much—other than being a lab rat—so I doubted it. Perhaps this was a trait I acquired after gaining my identity as Harry Potter? But why? My soul felt normal, as far as I could tell.
True, my potential was ever-increasing as I slowly generate, absorb, and saturate my soul in more null energy, but surely I wasn't the only one who had noticed these peculiar changes.
Questions swirled in my mind, yet so few answers. I made a mental note to research emotions in depth; I was confident I'd uncover the truth soon enough.
Finally, I reached my destination: the Fat Lady's painting on the wall. She glanced at me and opened the door without a word.
It was strange—I'm still getting used to the fact that I now own Hogwarts—I knew this would forever be one of my most treasured possessions…
As I entered the common room, the noise abruptly ceased. As soon as the people saw me, they stopped talking. There was no murmuring, no sounds at all—should I be proud or offended? I still haven't decided—I scanned the room for Neville, but he wasn't there.
"What are you doing here? This isn't a place for Dark wizards…!" Ronald Weasley interrupted my search with his annoyingly loud voice…
In a flash, I snapped my fingers, and "poof"—I transfigured him into a red rat. Even then, he squeaked noisily, so I silenced him with another snap— he should really be thankful that's all I did to him, I didn't take revenge on him because the previous me asked me not to, but I still find his existence annoying…
"I have a question!" I said, turning to the twins, who were delightedly laughing at their brother's misery. "Sure, Harry," Fred replied. "Ask away," George chimed in completing the sentence for his twin…
"Did you and your brothers take all the good traits in your bloodline and leave him with the dregs, or did your mother take a defective potion when she was pregnant with Ron, and his stupidity is the result of that?" I asked, half-serious and half-sarcastic—I was trying to break the tension that was beginning to place, and it seems I succeeded because my sarcastic question and delivery prompted laughter from everyone in the common room.
"I really don't want to be the bully here, believe me, but he was practically asking for it—I can be anywhere I want; after all, I own the bloody castle," I continued, my voice filled with exasperation, as I handed the still-transfigured Ron back to the twins, who started laughing sinisterly as soon as they got their hands on him…
Anyway, I didn't want to linger here longer than necessary, so I asked about Neville: "Has anyone seen Neville? I'm looking for him."
"Uh, I think he's in one of the greenhouses. He mentioned something about most of the plants being harvested earlier," Dean replied.
"Thanks, mate," I said, as I turned around and left…
There's something about being back in the Gryffindor common room that just bothered me—maybe it was the memories? I don't like it there anymore…
When I arrived at the third greenhouse—having already checked the first two without success (I could have used Hogwarts to know his whereabouts, but she was feeling mischievous, and I decided to indulge her)—I finally spotted him hunched slightly, his hands elbow-deep in dragon dung fertilizer, looking sweaty and flushed…
"Hey, Neville! Do you need help?" I called from the door—though the thought of assisting him didn't thrill me, it was polite to ask…
"Harry! What are you doing here? Come in!" he said as soon as he spotted me, his face brightening with a smile. It was then that I realized he was genuinely happy to see me…
"I've been looking for you for a while. Hogwarts was feeling mischievous and refused to reveal your location. I had to check the greenhouses after not finding you in Gryffindor Tower," I explained.
"So, what's up? What do you need?" he asked, getting right to the point. He was still working, and I understood why he wanted to be direct—still, seeing how much he's changed feels weird…
"Uh, Originally, I was in the library to asking Hermione, but Luna suggested I talk to you instead. So here I am." What an unnecessary thing to say, good job harry…
" Anyway, you see, my body and emotions are finally syncing up—don't ask why—and since I'm still growing, my moods shift for little to no reason at all. I wanted to know what guys our age typically do—you know, to get their focus back—any advice would be great," I shared. Yet he looked at me with this weird, puzzled expression… this is why men don't don't share Harry, learn …
"Why are you looking at me like that?" I asked in annoyance… He didn't answer right away, he just set down his tools on the nearby table and sat down on the ground. I wanted to point out that I could've conjured chairs for us, but I decided not to.
"Harry, let me get this straight: you're asking me what guys our age usually do?" he clarified. I nodded—that was indeed what I wanted to know.
"Um, well, most guys our age are either dating girls, dreaming about them, trying to impress them, or just imagining them while... you know, relieving themselves," he replied, doing the hand motion and everything. It seems our usually shy Neville had grown more confident—the one in my memories wouldn't have done the hand motion no matter what…
"So, what you're saying is that most guys our age are chasing girls?" I asked, contemplating. "I guess I can see the appeal, but what else do they do? What hobbies can I pick up? I don't want to think about girls right now; I have more important matters to focus on and can't afford distractions." My voice held frustration, and Neville laughed. He laughed…
"Hahaha, okay, okay. Relax… I get it. Why don't you just do something you enjoy? Take me, for example. I usually come to the greenhouses to help and check on my plants, or I go out with Hagrid to forage in the Forbidden Forest… Other times, I hang out with the guys, chatting or joking around," he explained. I could see how that would work, but I didn't think I had many friends.
'Still, I was here, so I might as well talk with Neville'.
"All right, I can see how that would work. Let's chat now, since I'm already here." I paused, considering topics—seeing me think, Neville, ever helpful, chimed in: "Girls?" and laughed.
*'I'm glad one of us finds this amusing.'*
"Okay, fine, girls. But what do you usually say? I can't think of anything to discuss about them," I admitted. It was true—what would I say?
"Uh, let's start with this: if you wanted to date someone, who would you pick?" he asked, visibly excited.
"I don't want to date anyone! It feels like a waste of time when I could research new magic!" I replied—though not entirely truthfully. You see, I didn't want to date because dating here often leads to marriage, and I never wanted to marry…
"Come on, Harry! Think about it. Don't you find anyone in our year attractive? Older girls and professors work too…" Neville pressed, his excitement about the subject was clear.
"Um, well, there's Hermione, but I don't want to risk our friendship. She's a good friend, and I don't have many of those," I confessed, scratching my cheek in embarrassment.
"Yeah, I get it. But if you want my opinion, you two would make a great couple. Both obsessed with magic—it might actually work," he said. I saw his point but shelved it for later—maybe after the whole Voldemort thing is done with I'll give it a try...
"What about you, Neville? Anyone caught your eye?" Now it was my turn.
"Uh, um, well, there's Hannah Abbott from Hufflepuff, but I haven't mustered the courage to ask her out yet," he admitted, fidgeting, and I finally understood…
I laughed hard—now I got it—talking about girls was fun…
"Hannah, huh? The one always with Susan? She's cute. I can see you two working out—imagine mini-Nevilles running around!" I joked, watching his face redden.
*Hahaha.* Yeah, he was right. This was fun…
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