Chapter 41: The Volatile Cupboard and the Solvent of Seams part-1
"Well then," I said. "It seems the Merpeople were right. They took what you would miss the most. And you got her back."
Harry smiled. A genuine, warm smile.
"Yeah," he said. "I did."
We caught up to Hermione.
"Hermione," Harry said. "Do you want to carry my towel? For extra layers?"
"Give it to me," she demanded.
She wrapped Harry's towel around her shoulders over the blanket.
"Thank you," she muttered.
"Anytime," Harry said.
I walked behind them, deactivating the Omniscope Eye. I had a recording of the entire underwater rescue stored in my inventory. Perhaps I would edit it later. Add some romantic music.
But for now, I was hungry. Saving the day (and destroying reputations) was exhausting work.
The aftermath of the Second Task lingered over Hogwarts like a damp fog. Hermione Granger had become a figure of whispered legends, the "Siren of the Lake" who had inadvertently displayed more than just her bravery to the entire school.
Two days had passed. Hermione had retreated into a shell of sartorial paranoia that bordered on madness. She was currently sitting in the Great Hall for breakfast wearing what looked like a mechanic's boiler suit. It was thick, grey canvas, zipped to the chin and belted tightly.
"Canvas," she stated, stabbing a sausage with unnecessary violence. "Industrial grade. Acid resistant. Tear-proof. And I have sewn the zipper shut with fishing line."
"It is very... practical," Harry Potter said, though his eyes lingered on the zipper with a strange mixture of apprehension and disappointment. The "Dream Weaver" potion and the repeated exposure were clearly rewiring his teenage brain.
"I look like a janitor," Hermione sighed. "But at least I am a fully clothed janitor."
I sat across from them, nursing a cup of tea and checking my internal interface.
(System check,) I thought.
Current Status:Name: Ron WeasleyPoints: 685Active Skills: Poltergeist Proxy, Telekinesis, Structure Analysis, Liquids Manipulation.Current Goal: Trigger an incident in the Potions Store Cupboard.
(The Store Cupboard,) I mused. (Small. Dark. Filled with dangerous fluids. But first, we need to get them in there.)
We had Double Potions with the Slytherins that morning. It was the perfect opportunity. Professor Snape was in a foul mood, likely because Karkaroff had been bothering him about his Dark Mark.
The dungeon classroom was gloomy and smelled of pickled toad. We took our seats. Hermione sat between Harry and me.
"Today," Snape sneered, pacing the front of the room, "we will be brewing the Wit-Sharpening Potion. A simple concoction, yet I suspect many of you will manage to turn it into a lethal poison."
He glared at Neville, who whimpered.
"Ingredients are in the cupboard," Snape said. "However, the store cupboard is currently in disarray thanks to Mr. Longbottom's incompetence last week. I need volunteers to reorganize the volatile section. Without magic."
No one raised their hand. Reorganizing Snape's cupboard by hand was suicide.
(Opportunity,) I thought.
I looked at Draco Malfoy, who was flicking dried beetles at Harry's head when Snape wasn't looking.
(Telekinesis: Target the beetle in Malfoy's hand.) (Trajectory: Arced shot into Goyle's cauldron.)
I waited until Goyle was adding his ginger roots.
Flick.
The beetle flew from Malfoy's hand, guided by my mind. It landed with a soft plop into Goyle's simmering potion.
The reaction was instantaneous. The potion turned a violent shade of purple and began to emit a high-pitched whistling sound.
"Duck!" I shouted theatrically.
BOOM.
Goyle's cauldron exploded. A wave of purple sludge coated the front of the room—specifically, Snape's desk and Snape's robes.
Snape stood there, dripping purple slime, his face a mask of calm, terrifying fury.
"Who threw it?" Snape whispered.
"It was Potter!" Malfoy shouted immediately, pointing a finger. "I saw him flick it!"
"I didn't!" Harry protested. "My hands were on the table!"
"Silence," Snape hissed. "Potter. And Granger, for being guilty by association. Detention. Now. You will clean the store cupboard. Every shelf. Every jar. By hand."
"But Professor, the lesson!" Hermione protested.
"Get. Out," Snape pointed a slimy finger at the narrow door behind his desk.
Harry and Hermione stood up, defeated. They grabbed their bags and trudged into the small, dark store cupboard.
Snape slammed the door shut behind them and cast a locking charm.
"The rest of you," Snape barked, vanishing the slime from himself. "Back to work."
I smirked, chopping my armadillo bile.
(Now,) I thought. (To the main event.)
(Omniscope Eye: Activate.)
The invisible sensor orb materialized inside the cupboard. The view appeared in my mind.
The cupboard was tiny. It was barely five feet by five feet, lined with floor-to-ceiling shelves packed with dusty jars, slimy bottles and dried ingredients. There was barely enough room for Harry and Hermione to stand without touching.
"This is unfair," Hermione huffed, picking up a rag. "We didn't do anything."
"I know," Harry said, squeezing past her to reach a top shelf. "Excuse me."
They bumped chests. The space was that tight.
"Sorry," Harry muttered, turning red.
"It is okay," Hermione said, her voice tight. "Just... watch your elbows. And don't knock anything over."
(Don't knock anything over?) I chuckled internally. (That sounds like a challenge.)
I used the Poltergeist Proxy. Since the cupboard was adjacent to the classroom, it was well within range.
I scanned the shelves. I needed something specific. Not an explosion, but a catalyst for intimacy.
I saw a jar on the second shelf: Oil of Slytheriness. It was an industrial lubricant used for greasing cauldron hinges.
And right next to it: Solvent of Binding. It was used to dissolve magical glues and... stitching.
(Target: Oil of Slytheriness.)
Harry was reaching for a jar of dragon blood on the top shelf. He was stretching up, his body pressed against Hermione's back as she wiped a lower shelf.
(Poltergeist Proxy: Nudge the Oil jar.)
I gave the jar a mental shove.
It tipped. It fell.
Smash.
The glass shattered on the stone floor right between their feet. A gallon of ultra-slick, magical oil spread instantly.
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