Harry Potter: But Where is Harry?

Chapter 13

The morning sun spilled across the Gryffindor common room, glinting off polished windows and half-finished homework scrolls. It was Saturday, and for once, Thomas Greene didn't feel the usual weight of expectations dragging him down. The past two weeks had been packed—classes, mishaps, mounting tensions with Ron—but today, there was no rush. Hogwarts, he was learning, had a rhythm all its own. And today, it beat more softly.

He sat near the fire with Hermione, poring over The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 and jotting notes in the margins. The common room buzzed quietly around them—some students darted out for Quidditch practice, others tucked into chairs with goblets of pumpkin juice.

Hermione leaned in, brows knit. "I still don't understand why you're rewriting the Lumos theory, Thomas. It's already clear. Light manifests through focused intent, proper incantation, and wand movement."

"I know, but think about this," he said, tapping the page. "What if the actual light isn't produced by the spell word or motion, but by the visualized concept of light itself? What if magic bends more to willpower and understanding than we think?"

"You sound like you want to turn spellcasting into a science experiment again," Hermione said, half-chiding, half-curious.

Thomas gave her a sly grin. "Maybe I do."

Hermione opened her mouth to protest but paused. "Actually… it would explain why Neville struggles more than the rest of us. His pronunciation's not bad, and he's not terrible at wand movement. Maybe it's the confidence—or the clarity of thought."

"That's what I'm wondering. The books emphasize rote learning, but what if magic is more… conceptual?"

Hermione tapped her chin thoughtfully. "We'd need a controlled environment. A basic charm, tested under different visualizations, focus states… I mean, we'd need to log it all."

"Agreed. Hypothesis, method, results." Thomas smiled. "You in?"

Hermione nodded firmly. "Of course."

---

Later that afternoon, Thomas wandered down to the courtyard. The sun hung low in the sky, casting warm amber light across the grounds. The wind was crisp with the first hints of autumn.

October was around the corner. Halloween was coming.

Thomas paused, gaze flicking to the Forbidden Forest. He couldn't shake the image from Astronomy Tower the night before—Quirrell, or someone like him, gliding unnaturally across the grounds. Was the troll incident still going to happen? Would it be the same? Or worse?

He couldn't count on canon events staying predictable. The timeline had diverged. He would need to stay sharp, and if it meant experimenting with magic or sneaking into the Restricted Section to be better prepared, so be it.

He was rounding a corner when a loud POP and sudden burst of orange smoke exploded in his path.

"BLOODY HELL!" he yelped, stumbling back.

Laughter rang out from above.

"Target acquired!" said a familiar voice—Fred Weasley, leaning over the upper corridor railing.

"Direct hit," George confirmed.

Thomas sighed, brushing soot off his robes. "Was the smoke necessary?"

Fred shrugged. "It's for dramatic effect."

George slid down the stair banister and landed beside Thomas. "We've been watching you, Greene."

"Is that supposed to be ominous?"

Fred hopped the last step with a grin. "Just curious. You've been playing it very serious since the year started. Had to see if you'd fall for something basic."

"You call that basic?" Thomas coughed, still fanning away smoke. "You nearly set my eyebrows on fire."

"Eh," George said, unbothered. "We needed to test the new trigger powder."

"You're lucky I didn't retaliate."

Fred raised an eyebrow. "Retaliate? Please. You're too by-the-book."

Thomas flicked his wand up with a smooth motion. "Locomotor Mortis!"

Fred's legs locked. He toppled like a tree.

"Oi!" George burst into laughter.

Fred groaned from the ground. "What the—was that a Leg-Locker Jinx?"

Thomas smirked. "You were saying something about 'by-the-book'?"

George helped his brother up as Fred grumbled. "Alright, fine. You've got some mischief in you. We approve."

"Good," Thomas said. "Because I actually need a favor."

Both twins turned with interest.

"I want to learn the Disillusionment Charm."

Fred blinked. "Now that's ambitious."

George whistled. "Advanced magic, that one. Definitely not first-year stuff."

"Do you know it?" Thomas pressed.

They exchanged a glance.

"Maybe," Fred said.

"Possibly," George added.

Thomas folded his arms. "So that's a yes. Will you teach me?"

Fred scratched his chin. "We could, but magic like that doesn't come free."

"Favor for favor," George said with a wink. "There's a Slytherin prank we've been cooking up. But we need a third party. Someone with no connection to us."

"And no trail back to us" Fred added.

Thomas frowned. "What kind of prank?"

"Simple mischief," George said. "We enchant their cauldrons to leak boiling perfume during Potions. No one gets hurt."

"They'll just smell like a flower shop exploded," Fred snorted.

Thomas hesitated. It wasn't dangerous. Just humiliating.

"I do it, you teach me the charm?"

"Done," they said in unison.

---

That evening, Thomas found himself back in the library with Hermione, working through wand mechanics.

"I swear," she muttered, "those twins are chaos incarnate. Are you really getting involved with them?"

Thomas didn't look up from his notes. "I need to know more than what's taught in class. If I want to survive here, I have to push boundaries."

Hermione frowned. "You think it's that dangerous?"

Thomas's mind flashed to the cloaked figure, to Neville's Sorting, to Ron's growing hostility. "Yeah. I do."

She didn't argue. Instead, she passed him a fresh parchment sheet. "If you're serious, we need to build a proper experiment log. Control variables, spell type, caster focus—"

Thomas smiled faintly. "Thanks, Hermione."

---

Later that night, he stood by the window of the boys' dormitory, watching the stars blink above the Forbidden Forest.

So much had changed.

He'd read the books, watched the films, memorized the major events. But none of that guaranteed safety here.

This world breathed. It shifted. It remembered.

And something dark was stirring beneath it all.

He tightened his grip on his wand.

Whatever was coming—he'd be ready.