Harry Potter with Technology System Chapter 420: Blunt Realities

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Following weeks passed in relative calm. Hogwarts had slid back into its usual pattern... classes, training, convincing House Elves for snacks between als didn't an eating one full course. Nothing exploded. No surprise duels in the corridors.

Harry noticed the shift around the second Thursday. Breakfast ca and went, and Dumbledore didn't show. That wasn't strange by itself... sotis he skipped als, but by the weekend, rumors started floating. A few said he was eting with foreign Ministries. Others whispered about a secret summit in Albania. One second-year from Ravenclaw claid he'd seen the Headmaster turning into a phoenix and flying off into the Forbidden Forest.

The Charms classroom was empty after lunch on Tuesday. Most students were out on the lawn enjoying a rare stretch of good weather, which gave Harry the chance to drop by unnoticed.

Flitwick was at his desk, adjusting the charms on a broken Fanged Frisbee that soone, Weasley, had tried to enchant with a homing feature.

Harry rapped his knuckles on the doorfra once. "Got a minute, Professor?"

Flitwick looked up and smiled, waving him in. "Mr. Potter. Always. Sit, sit."

Harry stepped in and took the offered seat across the desk. The professor tapped the edge of a cracked Fanged Frisbee, its edges glowing faintly with runes.

"Marvelous Rune work," Flitwick said, clearly impressed. "It tracks a person based on their magical signature. Requires a proper recording of said signature beforehand, but still... brilliant work. Complex layering for such a ridiculous object."

Harry leaned back slightly, giving the disc a look. "They probably got the idea from Muggle tech. I had them watch Top Gun last month... Muggle film. One of them must've noticed the targeting systems in the jets."

Flitwick chuckled. "Creative, if slightly terrifying. This could be illegal in about seven different contexts, but academically? I am impressed."

"They are not subtle," Harry said. "But they don't waste ideas."

Flitwick waved the Frisbee aside with a charm that pinned it safely to the wall. "Well, if they start launching these during Quidditch matches, I will have to pretend I don't know who made them."

Harry snorted, reaching over to flick a loose stack of parchnt into order. "Anything interesting on the charm revision front?"

"A few new formulations. The Italians published a paper on kinetic mory retention in enchanted items... only small-scale so far, quills and combs mostly. But the theory is promising."

Harry nodded slowly. "Could make wandless work smoother if we figure out how to bind routines into focus objects."

Flitwick perked up. "Exactly! And you wouldn't need constant magical feed... just anchor the behavior in the charm itself."

"Gonna be hard to scale though," Harry said. "You would need resonance stability, and I doubt half the suppliers can cut crystal to the precision required."

Flitwick looked genuinely pleased. "You've been keeping sharp."

Harry chuckled lightly. "I just like to stay inford."

Flitwick gave him a look over the top of his spectacles, the kind that said he knew Harry was holding back more than he let on. But he didn't press.

"Of course. Nothing wrong with keeping ahead of the curve."

They talked a bit longer... Flitwick ntioned a few papers coming out of the Nordic Magical Institute on intent-based spellcasting, sothing about spell layers responding better to raw emotion than calculated execution. Harry pointed out that might explain why older magic, especially from early wandless forms, was so unstable. The conversation slipped easily between technical and casual, both of them bouncing thoughts off the other without needing to slow down.

"Professor McGonagall seems a lot busier lately," Harry said after a pause.

Flitwick's hand didn't stop moving, but he raised an eyebrow. "She has taken on more responsibilities this term. More correspondence. So of it from overseas."

Harry tilted his head slightly. "Any idea why?"

Flitwick set down the Frisbee and folded his hands. "No certainty. But the Headmaster has left the castle, that much is true. Hasn't said where, but we've been told it is important. Urgent."

Harry leaned back. "Is this about what is happening in the east?"

Flitwick didn't answer imdiately. He tapped the desk lightly, thinking. "It is possible. There are whispers, not official channels. But the sort of chatter that moves between magical scholars. Sothing dark stirring in the shadows of the borderlands."

"North Korea?" Harry asked.

Flitwick gave a small nod. "Likely. The area is magically unstable. Long ignored, long untouched. The kind of place where things can fester without oversight."

Harry didn't push further. "Thanks, Professor."

"Any ti, Mr. Potter. And if you do happen upon any of those kinetic-retention quills, I would love a sample."

Harry smirked and stood. "I will send a package your way."

Flitwick chuckled, waving him off.

Next stop was Snape's office. Not for potions. Just a talk. The door creaked open when Harry knocked... Snape didn't look up from the book on his desk, but he didn't send him away either.

"If you are here to help with the seventh-year draught compositions, they are over there."

Harry sat, pulled the stack of parchnt toward him, and started reading. A few lines in, he was already circling mistakes. It was subtle work... misused properties of root infusion, lazy temperature ranges, incorrect ingredient layering, and it only took him a few minutes to realize how sloppy so of these seventh-years were getting.

Snape said nothing at first, just sat behind his desk flipping through one of the heavier Potions tos. Occasionally, he made a note in the margins with a sharp flick of his quill. The fact he'd handed the papers to Harry without a second thought said enough... Snape didn't trust many people to grade NEWT-level work, but Harry had been his assistant long enough to be the exception.

"Gully mixed powdered tentacula with frozen belladonna," Harry said, not looking up. "That will cause paralysis if brewed hot."

Snape nodded. "He is one of the more hopeless ones. The kind of student who would explode his own cauldron, then insist the ingredients were cursed."

Harry moved to the next one, reading faster now. "Samuels tried to use troll marrow as a thickening agent in a healing draught. Didn't even bother with a counter-dampener. He is begging for a Ministry visit."

Snape made a faint sound in the back of his throat... could've been amusent, could've been irritation. "Samuels is planning to apply for Saint Mungo's. rlin help them."

Harry didn't comnt. He kept scratching notes on the side of the parchnt. Then, without looking up, Harry asked, "So... Headmaster is not around."

Snape didn't respond right away. Just turned a page in his book and muttered, "No, he is not."

Harry flipped to the next assignnt. "Been gone a while."

"Longer than usual."

Another pause. Harry tapped his quill, then said, "Think this has anything to do with that string of disappearances in the east?"

Snape didn't glance up. "Possibly. The headmaster rarely leaves without reason."

Harry didn't rush through the rest of the parchnts. He read each one, marked what needed to be fixed, and didn't bother hiding how unimpressed he was by so of the work. Snape didn't say much either... just the occasional scoff when sothing particularly idiotic showed up.

By the ti Harry reached the end of the stack, the office felt still. The only sound ca from the faint scratching of Snape's quill and the rustling of pages as he flipped through one of the newer alchemy journals.

Harry set his own quill down, leaned back slightly in the chair. "That is the last of them. The rest need redoing."

Snape didn't look up. "Obviously."

Harry pushed the last essay forward with a flick of his finger. "That one is beyond saving. If he ever tries that combination in a real brew, you will be peeling him off the ceiling."

Snape barely glanced up from his book. "That is optimistic. More likely he would bring the entire west wing down."

Harry leaned back in the chair. "Wouldn't be the worst thing. The west wing is due for remodeling."

Snape gave a faint snort, then turned a page with a crisp flick. "It is always fascinating how quickly you slip back into sarcasm when not under imdiate threat."

"I would say it is a learned survival skill," Harry said. "You taught it well."

After a mont, Snape said, not looking up, "You've settled back in quickly. Most students need a week just to find their titable."

Harry shrugged. "Didn't really have the luxury of being slow this year. Too many things moving."

Snape humd in acknowledgnt. "Your training club. Defense classes. Extra sessions with the younger years. Still playing student, but no longer pretending to be ordinary."

"I stopped pretending after the graveyard," Harry said, calm. "Didn't have much choice."

Snape closed his book gently. "You walked back into school with explosive news, a cup, new sass and no explanation."

"Not one they would believe, anyway."

Snape looked at him, eyes narrowed. "You dueled him. Voldemort. Face to face."

"Twice now."

Snape's expression didn't shift much, but sothing behind his eyes tightened. He didn't speak for a beat. Then, quieter, "He was whole?"

Harry nodded once. "No tricks this ti. Flesh, blood, wand."

"And he let you walk away?"

"Didn't let . I took the opportunity."

Snape studied him. "You got lucky."

Harry's mouth twitched. "Luck ran out the second I portkeyed. The rest was improvisation."

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