HA HA HA HA HA, I HAVE DELIVERED A SHORT TURN AROUND! You may now appreciate the amazingness of what I have just done. Unfortunately, it's probably going to be a bit before this is continued, but it does have a semi-satisfying conclusion that is not a cliff hanger, so there's that.

I do plan to continue this. I really do. I have things sort of plotted out. I'm just having trouble with details, and getting to those points, plus other things distract me easily, and, well... I'm pretty sure you all know how THAT goes.

THAT BEING SAID. I just need to take a moment of reflection. I can't believe that I started this two years ago on a whim. Because it was a challenge hanging out on the internet. I seriously thought it would be this little slice of life story, maybe 10,000 words max. Two years and 100,000 words later... I've finished year one. That's... kind of a terrifying realization. Thanks to everyone who's been sticking with me through this, and I hope you'll continue to do so as we (very slowly, no doubt) go on.

Regardless, without further ado, let's get on with the story!

Chapter Fourteen: In Which A Shot is Missed And Evie Steals a Philosopher's Stone (Sort of)

It was Quirrell.

Of course it was. When had Winston ever been wrong when it came to mysteries?

Hermione opened her mouth, presumably to say something, but Harry clamped a hand over it before any noise escaped.

They stood frozen a minute, but Quirrell was clearly more interested in the large, ornate mirror that stood in front of him. He paced in front of it, muttering to himself.

Silently, Evie and Harry exchanged a glance. Harry raised a hand and held up three fingers.

Evie scowled in response, holding up two.

Harry shook his head and gestured with the three fingers again. He tilted his head towards one of the pillars near the wall, then nodded towards Hermione.

Evie frowned, but nodded.

Harry took his hand from Hermione's mouth, made a shushing motion, then gestured towards Evie. Confused, but getting the idea she had to remain silent, Hermione followed as Evie took her arm and pulled her towards the pillar.

As soon as he was sure they were out of sight, Harry dramatically raised a hand to point at Quirrell. "Turban guy!"

Quirrell started at that, clearly not expecting the shout. "Potter?"

Harry made a show of considering things. "No, that's not it," he frowned, before lighting up and pointing again. "Squirrel!"

"It's Quirrell, you imbecilic child," the man snarled.

"No, I don't think that's it, either," Harry mused. "Well, it doesn't matter. You're here, at the end of this-let's face it, pathetically easy-series of challenges, here to claim the prize. A stone, perhaps?"

Quirrell looked surprised a moment before schooling his expression. "Well, well, well, Mr. Potter, I am impressed. You know about the philosopher's stone, then?"

"What, seriously?" Harry groaned. "You've got to be kidding me. That was a total shot in the dark, really. Man, Papa Ray is never going to let us live this down. He was the one who called philosopher's stone."

"I would have thought you'd have done more research," Quirrell admitted.

"Please," Harry snorted. "Research? Not my thing. That's Evie's thing. And the only thing we researched was the cerberus, and to be honest, that 'research' was more asking one of my dads. You really didn't have to bribe Hagrid with a dragon egg to get that info, by the way. Historically, nearly all cerberuses… cerberi? ...are calmed by music."

"I'd forgotten creatures were your specialty," Quirrell frowned. "But you never came to classes this year."

"No, because your class is pretty useless to anyone with a background in protecting themselves from creatures and a heavy dislike of wands," Harry said with a shrug.

"Yes, I'd heard you were a fan of dark magic," Quirrell agreed, eyes narrowing.

"Honestly, I just don't get the classification system," Harry admitted. "There's the whole 'this is dark' thing, and it's so arbitrary- hey, look, I do pick up big words!- and ultimately useless. I think there's more damaged caused by a refusal to teach the so called 'dark magic' than by teaching them. Not to say that there aren't things that definitely deserve the 'dark' classification, but overall…"

"An intriguing view from the boy meant to be the paradigm of the light," Quirrell mused.

"That's stupid," Harry told him immediately. "Seriously, I am one of the least qualified people for that. This society places too much emphasis on their so called 'chosen ones' as a whole."

"I think we can both agree on the stupidity of the general population," Quirrell said wryly. "It's unfortunate that we've chosen different ways to try and stop it."

"Let's drop the pleasantries, then," Harry said, fiddling with the trigger of the flamethrower. "We both know you're here to get the philosopher's stone. We both know I'm here to stop you."

"And yet, you haven't attacked yet," Quirrell pointed out.

"And you haven't gotten the stone," Harry shot back. "Which implies that, for whatever reason, you can't. Yet, at least."

"No, but it's only a matter of time." Unbidden, Quirrell's eyes flicked back to look at the mirror in the center of the room. "As soon as I solve the puzzle of this mirror."

"Ah, yes, a puzzle," Harry smirked. "Those are tricky, aren't they? Incidentally, what did you think of the potions challenge? Fun, wasn't it? Did you solve it?"

"I think the fact that I'm here would be enough to answer that, Potter," Quirrell drawled.

"Mm… you'd think so," Harry agreed. "But the question is, did you solve it? Or was it your… friend?"

It was only because he was watching so carefully that Harry was able to pick up on the slight stiffening of the shoulders, the caught breath, the rapid blink of being caught off guard. "I'm afraid I have no idea as to what you are referring."

"Bullshit," Harry accused. "It wasn't too hard to figure out it was you, you know? I mean, sure I thought it was Snipe-wait, no that's not right-"

"Well, Snape certainly plays the part," Quirrell smirked.

"Snake, that's right," Harry agreed. "But he's been working here for quite a while, and he's always been creepy. On the other hand, you were a passable Muggle Studies (Anu, that's a terrible name) teacher until you went travelling and suddenly came back with a completely different disposition. Really, the only people you could possibly fool with that would be impressionable first years."

Quirrell raised an eyebrow at him.

Harry sighed. "...And most of the British Magicals. Ilu, the rampant stupidity…"

"It certainly makes it easy to take advantage, though," Quirrell pointed out.

"That's not the point," Harry argued. "Well, it sort of is a point, but it's not the point I'm trying to make here… Wait, what was I saying?" He paused a moment. "Right. The sudden personality shift. We were trying to figure out what could cause it, and the first thing to pop up in our suggestions was possession."

"That was first?" Quirrell asked dubiously.

"You do realize my dads are literally the world experts when it comes to possession?" Harry pointed out. "It's not an exaggeration when I say they wrote the book on it. Well, rewrote the book at least. Several times over."

"That is easy to forget," Quirrell admitted.

"I know, right?" Harry agreed, shaking his head with a grin. "Anyways, it was pretty easy to confirm possession especially with the unicorns being attacked. And then it was an educated guess that the possessor was Voldemort. And then came the question of what you were doing here. We weren't sure what was in the castle that was so vital you'd risk possessing a teacher and possibly tipping your hand so early (well, Voldemort, at least), but we knew it was hidden in this corridor, and from there, Papa Ray suggested a philosopher's stone. Now, it may not be confirmed, but that is a logical guess, wouldn't you say so? I'm impressed by how right we were, actually."

Quirrell scowled, opening his mouth to say something, when a hissing voice rang out.

"The boy is clever… let me speak to him."

Harry clapped his hands together, adjusting the flame thrower only slightly so he could hold it better. "Ah, he speaks!"

"Master, you're not strong enough!" Quirrell protested.

"I… have strength enough… for this…"

Harry primed the flamethrower, standing ready as Quirrell slowly began to unwrap the large turban on his head. It took time, and it was almost dramatic, the way he drew off the final layer, giving Harry a good view of the second face beneath.

"Harry… Potter…"

"Mursu ma urbat!" (1)Harry cursed, almost instinctively shooting, before remembering that that would be a bad idea at the moment. Instead, one hand unobtrusively drifted downward to his pouch, slipping in and searching for what he needed. "Have to admit, I was not expecting that. Seriously. That… I think I'm going to be sick."

"Do you see what I have become…?" Voldemort his, the red eyes glowing with malice. "See what you have reduced me to…?"

"Well, obviously, or I wouldn't be complaining about the whole 'going to be sick' thing," Harry snapped.

Voldemort laughed, a dark, creepy, airy sound. "You still seek to defy me… so like your foolish parents…"

"Which set?" Harry asked dryly.

There was a pause. "...James and Lily Potter…?" Voldemort said, looking slightly taken aback.

"Huh. Never knew them. Just, didn't know they were foolish, but that would certainly explain where I got it from." Harry tilted his head in contemplation. "I think the real question here is, is this a case of nature or nurture? Because while I may have picked it up from them, there's definitely the chance I got it from my dads, and I'm not sure there's a more foolish group of people on the planet… In a good way, of course."

"Silence, Potter!" Voldemort hissed. "Come forward!"

Harry toyed with the idea of being difficult but couldn't actually come up with a reason for not getting closer at the moment. At least, not with what they had planned. So, giving a dramatic sigh, he did so.

"Look… into the mirror," Voldemort instructed.

With a shrug, mostly because he was curious, Harry did so.

The image within was of him, several years older, standing next to Evie and Hermione. All three of them were in their Ghostbusters uniforms, looking cheerful. Harry had an arm slung over Hermione's shoulder as they both laughed about something. They seemed to be standing in some sort of office, and Harry could make out several important looking degrees on the wall. Most had Evie's name on them, but some had Hermione's, and a few even had his.

He couldn't keep the smile from creeping over his face before he abruptly yanked himself away, looking upwards. The mirror's inscription caught his eye.

Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.

That was all he need to see before he instinctively backed from the mirror. "Son of a… Is this the Mirror of Erised?! Who the fuck puts this kind of thing in a school?!"

Despite not saying anything, he could almost feel Hermione's confusion.

"You have… heard of it, then?" Voldemort asked.

"Yes, I have!" Harry near shouted, fighting the compulsion to look back in the mirror. He was lucky: the image within was an achievable thing, which greatly lessened the urge to keep staring. "You are more than welcome to keep looking for the stone, but I'm not having anything to do with that thing!"

"Mr. Potter… I'm afraid you have no choice."

Quirrell abruptly spun to grab Harry by the arms and force him to stand in front of the mirror. Harry screwed his eyes shut, trying desperately not to look, his other hand flying up…

Quirrell yelped, releasing his grip as a handful of salt hit him in the face. Harry scrambled away with a curse: he'd wanted to hit Voldemort, but the angle had been wrong. Already, he reached for another handful of salt, spinning around, simultaneously bringing up the barrel of the flamethrower.

"Harry!"

Hermione moved from her hiding position in the shadows of the side of the room. Evie had cast a spell of invisibility of some sort to hide them while she worked on something involving carving runes along the edges of the room. As Hermione could offer very little help in that regard, she had been watching Harry.

Until it looked like Harry was about to get himself killed. Then she stopped watching and started acting.

In all honesty, Hermione knew very few spells that would come in handy in this sort of scenario. Most of her extracurricular reading on structured spells revolved around the more mundane, household type. In her defense, she wouldn't have guessed she'd have gotten caught up in some sort of life or death situation at the age of twelve.

Then again, she was friends with Harry and Evie. She really should have known better.

That being said, while she knew very few spells of that sort, Harry had been teaching her the basics of focus casting. Focus casting didn't require any structured spells, just a strong will, firm visualization, and power. As a twelve year old, Hermione may not have had a lot of the last one, but she had always been good at visualizing, and she was one of most stubborn people Harry had ever met. (And that was really saying something.)

Theoretically, focus casting requires no movement. However, it had long been pointed out that movement often could help people in their visualizing, and Hermione was no different. Her wand moved in a sharp downwards arch, throwing out a veritable wave of magic.

Unfortunately, Quirrell was just fast enough to dodge.

Harry blinked when the magic hit the far wall, strong enough to carve a deep gorge into it. "Hey, watch where you point that thing!"

"Sorry!" Hermione called back, before being forced to dodge a spell of Quirrell's.

She watched Harry dive and roll under another barrage (and it always impressed her how nimble he could be with a massive pack of some sort strapped to his back) to fling another handful of salt at Voldemort's face.

Quirrell/Voldemort staggered backwards at that, screaming, as smoke rose from where the salt had hit.

Harry pushed himself to his feet, spinning to face the man, and shouting quickly, "Nusku ebebu! Ebebu! Ebebu!" (2)

Quirrell jerked slightly at the spell, before snarling. "You think my master would be so easily stopped? By a few foreign words?"

Harry cursed. "Plan B!" he shouted, flipping on the flamethrower.

Hermione let out a shriek as Harry doused Quirrell in flaming liquid. Quirrell and Voldemort were both soon screaming as well, writhing in the flames, unable to get away.

"I'm not done!" Evie hollered, running from behind one of the pillars, proton pack on and thrower in hand.

"Then don't miss!" Harry yelled back, before gesturing furiously at Quirrell. "Nusku shurpu! Shurpu! Shurpu!" (3)

Voldemort howled, dark smoke rising off of the back of Quirrell's head as it seemed to stretch- Hermione nearly threw up at the sight- and finally pulled free.

"Evie!" Harry cried as Quirrell's body dropped like a stone.

Evie's thrower was already up, and she fired a glowing proton stream at the smoky form that erratically moved about the room.

It missed.

Evie cursed as she brought the thrower up for a second shot. Nearby, Harry dug in his pouch for his own thrower.

Neither were fast enough. The entity passed through the wall, just in time to dodge Evie's second shot, which splashed destructively against the stone of the room.

"Isatum ma ditallu!" Harry snarled angrily. "You missed!" (4)

Evie slowly lowered her thrower, reaching for the PKE meter. "...He's gone."

Harry cursed again.

"Harry," Hermione croaked, eyes on the still burning Quirrell. "What… what just happened?"

Harry took a deep breath, trying to reign in his temper. "We went into this knowing Quirrell was likely possessed. Our first attempt was to have Evie ward the whole room with a basic soul trap, to allow us to capture the possessor without it escaping. Unfortunately, that takes time. I was distracting Quirrell while she set that up, but when he tried forcing me to use the mirror there, it became too dangerous. I attempted a basic cleansing with the salt, but it wasn't strong enough. I had to switch to fire."

"But what about Professor Quirrell?" Hermione asked, still looking ill.

"He's been dead since the possession," Harry said quietly. "That's the nature of this type. It kills the host. All I did was free his soul."

Somehow, this didn't make Hermione feel any better.

"See, salt is a cleanser," Harry continued. "It's great for a basic purification, but it's not as strong as something like fire. Fire is the ultimate purifier."

"Another excellent reason to carry a flamethrower," Evie observed, tone somber as she looked at Quirrell's body. It was still on fire.

"Should we put it out?" Hermione asked, raising her wand.

Evie, as the closer one, was the one to put a hand on her arm, causing her to lower it. "That would be ill advised. Right now, the fire is cleansing the dark spells."

"I thought you didn't believe in dark spells," Hermione pointed out weakly.

"There's dark, and then there's dark," Evie said cryptically.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Hermione admitted.

"I wouldn't blame you," Harry told her. "Seeing this kind of thing… The first time I saw something like this, I had nightmares for a month. It was a creature called a Preta. Usually they're pretty benign, so my dads had no reason not to let me tag along, but… See, Pretas are basically the dead come back to life, starving for something. It's typically something weird, like…"

"Feces," Evie offered.

"Sure, yeah," Harry agreed. "Weird, but ultimately not very dangerous. This one was… not benign. It ate human flesh."

"Like some sort of zombie?" Hermione asked, looking curious in spite of herself.

"Something of the sort," Harry nodded. "They got me out of there pretty quick when they realized what was going on, and none of them were injured, they're used to fighting things like that, and Pretas aren't too dangerous if you know what you're doing. The only real trouble is finding them: they're invisible to the naked eye."

"Ecto-goggles?" Evie asked.

"Probably, but I wasn't there," Harry reminded. "They hustled me out the door when they found an invisible creature eating a person alive. They caught it, but not in time to save the guy."

Hermione held a hand to her mouth in horror.

"Not everything out there is friendly, Hermione," Harry continued. "I mean, yeah, we're pretty lighthearted about these kinds of things, but that's only because the alternative…"

Hermione decided she hated that that actually made a twisted sort of sense. And it explained a lot about Harry.

"We can't always save everyone," Harry concluded. "The only thing that makes me feel better about this is that Quirrell knew what he was getting into. That's a lot better than some people."

There was a long pause as they processed that. Finally, Hermione nodded. "I can accept that."

"Good," Harry said, looking a lot more cheerful. "Now all we have to do is figure out how much we're charging Hogwarts for getting rid of a possessed professor." He paused. "And the soul trap. We should really get rid of the soul trap."

"Actually," Evie mused, "I had an idea about that…"

HP/RGB

"For the record," Harry panted, straining to push the heavy mirror, "when I said we should get rid of the soul trap, this isn't exactly what I had in mind."

"I guessed," Evie said dryly.

"I'm just happy for something else to focus on," Hermione admitted, determinedly not looking at the charred corpse nearby. She was really happy Evie knew an air freshening spell, or else she'd have been sick at this point.

Instead, all three were struggling to force the Mirror of Erised into Evie's mokeskin pouch. It was stretchy, yes, but apparently a full length mirror was testing the limits of its opening.

"Angle it upwards," Harry told Hermione, who was holding the bag. "A little more…!"

Finally, with a last heave, the mirror pushed inside. All three of them nearly fell into each other.

"Well, that will be fun to get out," Harry observed.

"I may need to revisit the runic matrix on the mouth," Evie murmured thoughtfully.

"Why do you want this thing, anyways?" Harry demanded. "Shouldn't it be destroyed?"

"It will be," Evie assured. "Just after I do an analysis on it for my daemonology class."

"What exactly is it?" Hermione asked.

"A soul trap," Harry explained. "An object that makes you want to use it, before draining you of your life energy. This particular one is a mirror that shows your heart's desire in it. It's very dangerous and does not belong in a school."

"Did any of this gambit of challenges belong in a school?" Hermione pointed out.

"...No," Harry allowed. "Though it was actually kind of fun."

"The real question is how we're going to get out of here," Harry mused, moving to the chamber door. "I mean, getting through the doors shouldn't be a problem-"

"But the long drop at the start might," Hermione finished.

"We could lift the brooms that were in the key chamber," Harry suggested. "Or maybe Evie has something in her bag of tricks for flight?"

"If I were designing a new runic cluster for flight, this would hardly be adequate testing grounds," Evie argued. "And I'm not, so it's a moot point."

Harry tilted his head. "Then those anti-gravity type runes I saw you jotting on the chalkboards?"

"A new runic cluster for the heads of the slime blowers," Evie explained. "I think I can increase the range by thirteen percent."

"...I'm sorry I asked," Harry decided. He threw open the chamber door, allowing all three of them into the potions chamber. The flames blocking them from the other door flared up again, a bright purple. The black flames did not reappear.

It only took a moment of searching before Hermione identified the second rune cluster, this one linked to the purple flames. Evie easily dismantled it, and they headed into the troll chamber.

It was probably best for everyone that the troll was still unconscious. Especially the troll. (After all, it took a lot longer to sleep off a proton stream than a head wound.)

The chess board posed no threat. It had been designed to stop people from going further into the chamber, not leaving it. And the locked door on the other end no longer existed, so that was no hassle either.

The devil's snare had been incinerated, so it was simple to take two of the brooms from the key room and fly up the tall shaft. (Harry had insisted on using the Ecto-6. After all, he claimed, at least it looked like it had been made in the last century.)

Hermione grimaced the whole way up, but her practices on broomstick had helped steady her. She was in no danger of falling off. Harry went up first, to ensure Fluffy was still asleep. (As he was the one who was best at flying away.)

The boombox was still playing as Harry eased it from the room, before there was another brief wrestling match to shove it back into Evie's pouch. After that, all three (looking slightly worse for the ware and sooty from the remains of the devil's snare (though Harry would allow those who had to clean up to assume the soot came from the other source)) headed directly for the Headmaster's office.

"Hi," Harry told the gargoyle guarding the entrance. "Is Dumbledore up there?"

The gargoyle gave a slight nod.

"Cool," Harry said cheerfully. "I don't know his password or anything, but can you let him know that we really want to talk to him?"

The gargoyle didn't move.

"Look," Harry said, looking slightly frustrated. "We're not asking for much. But if you don't go get him, it's going to be a choice between a proton blast or a sliming when we get Slimer to come play messenger."

The gargoyle still didn't move.

"Okay, that's it," Harry decided, scowling. "I'm not in a patient mood. Evie, would you-"

He cut off when the gargoyle slid to the side.

"You didn't have to threaten it," Hermione frowned.

"We don't know that I didn't," Harry argued immediately. They reached the top of the spiral staircase and Harry knocked loudly on the door.

"Enter!"

Harry opened the door and led them in, where Dumbledore sat at his desk, McGonagall, Snape, and Flitwick standing in front of the desk.

"Evening, all!" Harry greeted cheerfully. "Beautiful night, isn't it?"

"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore began, but Harry steamrolled right through his words.

"See you got the place fixed! Looks nice. Cluttered, I mean, but that's only to be expected, am I right? Evie feels bad about the door thing, by the way, she's been meaning to apologize, haven't you, Evie?"

"No," Evie said dryly.

"Well, I've been meaning to apologize that she had to do that, though it wasn't really my fault. Maybe I should just drop the subject then? I suppose the door is fixed, so it's not exactly a major issue…" Harry trailed off thoughtfully, seemingly completely focused on whether or not it was his responsibility to apologize.

Next to him, Hermione buried her face in her hands.

"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore repeated, this time with a little more force.

Harry jerked slightly at his name. "What? Right, that's me."

"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said firmly, this time broking no interruptions. "Would you like to explain to me why the wards around the third floor corridor were triggered?"

"Well, I suppose that would be because we triggered them," Harry said thoughtfully. "Of course, the other guy triggered them first. The real question here is, if they were triggered, why on earth are you up here discussing it instead of at the third floor corridor seeing what did the triggering?"

Dumbledore looked surprised at the question, but before he could attempt answering, Evie was picking up.

"Harry is correct," she agreed. "What use are alarm wards if you ignore them?"

"Or what if a student just went through that door?" Harry wondered. "I mean, just think if a first year had stumbled into a cerberus! That could be a total disaster! Oh, wait…"

"You're very lucky Harry and Evie are well trained in the handling of dangerous situations, sir," Hermione put in, finally finding her voice. "And it's not just the challenges down there I was referring to."

"Yeah, she means the possessed professor that had Voldemort growing out of the back of his head," Harry declared loudly. "By the way? Totally not something students should have to deal with."

"Albus?!" McGonagall demanded, both she and Flitwick turning towards the headmaster.

"I did warn you there was something off about him," Snape offered, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.

"There was no proof, Severus," Dumbledore sighed.

"Um, we had proof," Harry said, waving a hand in the air. "I mean, we've known he was walking around possessed since…"

"Not long after Christmas," Evie filled in.

"Not long after Christmas," Harry repeated. "And that was when we figured out about the philosopher's stone, too."

"Albus!" McGonagall hissed. "How on earth did three students figure out something you swore to us was very well protected?!"

"That is something I'd like to know as well," Dumbledore agreed, fixing all with a fierce stare.

Harry smirked. "Papa Winston's always been good with mysteries." He let it stay there, saying nothing of Ray's shot in the dark or exactly how much of the mystery solving had been by him.

"...I see," Dumbledore frowned. "I must ask exactly what happened down there."

"We made the cerberus sleep," Harry listed, "burned the devil's snare to a crisp-should probably apologize to the Herbology professor for that ("Sprout, Harry-")-burned down the door in the key room, played across the chessboard, the troll was already knocked out, and we collapsed the wards around the potions room… only after we saw there wasn't enough potion for all of us to take to pass through the flames. Fairly simple stuff."

"Next time put the runic clusters on the other side of the flames," Evie suggested.

Snape scowled at that.

"You burned down the door in the key room?" Flitwick asked, bouncing on his heels excitedly. "Exactly how did you do that? It was warded against fire!"

"Evie overloaded it with a runic cluster," Harry shrugged.

"Wood is a poor carving medium," Evie recited.

"Clever!" Flitwick said approvingly. "Not what I expected at all!"

"And you must be a decent chess player to pass the chess room," McGonagall mused.

"I wouldn't know, I napped through it," Harry admitted. "Hermione was awake, though."

"I don't play chess," Hermione reminded.

Harry waved a hand dismissively. "Not the point. You saw the game, didn't you? It was good, right?"

"How would I know? I don't play chess!"

"Perhaps, Miss Spengler, you'd like to join me for a game some time," McGonagall offered.

"Perhaps," Evie said without emotion, leaving it open to interpretation.

"And what, Mr. Potter, happened to Professor Quirrell?" Dumbledore asked.

"Aha!" Harry accused. "You said you didn't know that one of your teachers was possessed!"

"I did not," Dumbledore agreed. "But Severus passed on several suspicions to me."

"Well, next time come to us," Harry sighed. "Seriously. It saves so much trouble."

"Because you are an expert on possession, Mr. Potter?" Dumbledore countered, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, not to toot my own horn," Harry began, pointing at the name on his jumpsuit, "but duh. Ghostbuster, here. Kind of a required course."

Dumbledore looked slightly taken aback, as though he'd forgotten that.

"And Quirrell's dead," Harry finished. "Type three possession: he's been dead since Voldemort took up residence in his skull."

Hermione shuddered again at the remembrance.

Dumbledore looked horrified. "You have no remorse, Harry?"

"Don't call me that," Harry snapped, hackles raising. "And I wasn't the one to kill him. I was just the one to remind him he was dead. With a flamethrower."

"That's one ghost that won't be hanging about any longer," Evie mused. Out of sight of the professors, she slid a hand into Hermione's causing the grimacing girl to shoot her a grateful smile.

"Speaking of which!" Harry said, suddenly turning cheerful again. One hand dug in a pocket before he removed a folded piece of paper. "One exorcised vengeful soul, one soul trap removed from the premises, dangerous pre-existing conditions surcharge, charge for proton use, lack of structural damage surcharge… feel free to look it all over." He slid the paper across the desk.

Dumbledore frowned. "Mr. Potter-"

"Well, I think that's everything," Harry plowed on. "Time to go guys, do you think?"

"I think we've covered everything," Evie agreed.

"Mr. Potter, just what happened to the mirror in the final chamber?" Dumbledore pressed.

"The dangerous soul trap?" Harry asked. "It's gone. We've disposed of it."

Dumbledore shot to his feet. "Are you aware of-?"

"That there was something in it?" Harry asked. "The philosopher's stone? Yeah. But we weren't sure how to go about getting it out, so we just disposed of the mirror. Safer that way. Frankly, you shouldn't have had something like that in the school in the first place."

And then, without waiting for being dismissed, Harry led the way out of the office, whistling a cheerful tune.

HP/RGB

"Admit it," Hermione accused. "You just like being difficult."

"There's a certain appeal to it, yeah," Harry agreed, lounging out on the bench in their train compartment. It was empty apart from the three of them and Slimer, who had shoved himself up against the window and was staring out, making the occasional "ooh"ing sound, and randomly babbling.

The last few days of the year had been, according to Harry, "ridiculously boring". Oh, sure there'd been the lecture from Janine about charging off into dangerous situations while Peter had made faces in the background and shot thumbs up while managing to look complete contrite whenever she'd turned to look at him, and the request from Dumbledore that he should really look up his relatives while he was in the area had made him out right laugh (though he didn't remember much from those days, everything he did recall was rather unpleasant), but for the most part it had been a lot of sitting around and being completely bored.

Hermione had even asked Evie if there was anything she could do, but Evie had been mostly unhelpful, wrapped up in her own exams as she was. (5)

Luckily, she'd finished by the last couple days, and Harry had been drafted to help take apart the makeshift lab. She'd likely be using it again the next year, but didn't want to leave it alone over the summer. (It was quite likely that ignorant wizards would accidentally blow it up, after all.)

(Later, she would acknowledge that it was likely ignorant non-magicals could cause an explosion just as easily, but it was much less likely that they'd be around Hogwarts, and therefore, they were not nearly as much of a concern. That, and the fact that non-magicals generally learned proper safety procedures when it came to labs (along with enough common sense to not touch dangerous looking things (most of the Ghostbusters were exceptions to this)), which was much more than the usual British wizard could claim.)

So it was on the last day that Harry, Hermione, and Evie made the rounds to say farewell to those they considered more than passing acquaintances (and dealing with a sobbing Slimer who didn't quite grasp the idea that he didn't know these people and even if he did, he'd see them again in a few months) before finding themselves an empty compartment and claiming it as their own.

They'd likely not be disturbed; even the seventh years had enough common sense to steer clear of the "insane" trio.

Harry had taken the whole of one side of the compartment's seating to sprawl out on, drawing no reaction from Evie and amusement from Hermione, who felt like, after an entire year, she was finally getting a hold on how Harry operated.

Sort of.

"You realize that's going to get you into serious trouble one of these days?" Hermione asked, sounding more cheerful than annoyed.

"Probably," Harry agreed. "But I figure as a Ghostbuster, I'll get into trouble anyway. At least this way, I get practice in getting out of it."

"...That makes a shocking amount of sense," Hermione admitted.

Harry stretched. "Ah… I can't wait for this summer. Cross country Ghostbusting trip, here we come!"

Hermione hid a smile at his enthusiasm. "About that…"

Harry tried to fake slumber, but a cracked lid betrayed his interest. "Yes?"

"I've decided. I'm going to join your team. I'm going to become a Ghostbuster."

That made Harry sit up straight. "You are? You're sure?"

"I…" Hermione took a deep breath, thinking of how terrified she'd been in the underground chamber, and how collected and calm both Harry and Evie were. And, to be honest, if she continued to be their friend, it was likely she'd end up in more scenarios not unlike it. She wasn't going to just sit back and not do anything. She was going to prepare, and the next time they got into something like that, she was going to be right there next to them. "I'm sure. Teach me to bust ghosts."

Harry rubbed his hands together excitedly. "Evie! We're going to have to get her a uniform! And a pack! And-"

"Breathe," Evie said, not looking up from her book.

"This is going to be awesome!" Harry cheered. "Are you coming with us on our trip then? I mean, from what I've heard, the RV isn't huge, but you'd be surprised with what they can do with space expansion charms, and-"

"Breathe," Evie repeated.

"I don't know anything about our summer plans," Hermione admitted. "I know Dad was talking about some sort of trip, but I never found out exactly what it was. It's probably another trip to France, though."

Harry snorted. "Don't know why you'd want to go there."

"The lack of ghosts?" Evie suggested.

"That's only if you're near the Eiffel Tower," Harry dismissed immediately. At Hermione's curious glance, he expanded upon that. "The Eiffel Tower is an old school primitive ghost trap and containment unit."

"Say what?"

"It started breaking down a few years back. The dads had to go and repair it. They also set it up so any ghosts captured get immediately beamed to the containment unit. Though there was a bit of an issue when they did it the first time. They kind of preempted the public television network to beam the ghosts there, and, well…"

"Five hours of ghosts screaming French curses were not well received by the general public," Evie explained, still not looking up. (6)

"God, Papa Peter was so pissed about the fines they had to pay," Harry remembered. "I didn't know you were aware of it, Evie."

"Of course I was. It prevented me from watching a fascinating documentary on the life cycle of the Mountain Chicken." There was a pause as the other two looked at her in confusion. "It's a type of frog," she explained, glancing up at Charles, who had perched again on her head.

"Mum Janine wasn't pleased I learned eight new swear words," Harry recalled with a grin. "And proceeded to show them all off to her mother. Come to think of it, I haven't seen her mother since then, either."

Privately, Harry didn't think Janine was that sorry for an excuse to further sever ties. Her family wasn't particularly happy with both her status as a witch and her choice of profession.

It also said volumes that Harry referred to the woman as "Janine's mother" and not "Grandma".

"France is a wonderful place, and I haven't had any experiences of the ghostly sort there," Hermione sniffed. "Why you insist on disparaging a country you've never been to is quite beyond me."

"Come on, you're British!" Harry protested. "Aren't you supposed to hate the French or something?"

Evie seemed to almost frown at Harry for a moment before breaking out of whatever she was thinking about. "Regardless, I have been informed that Hermione will indeed be accompanying us on our trip, along with her parents. I understand her her father is quite eager to try a proton pack again."

"That sounds like Dad," Hermione sighed.

"I can't wait!" Harry cheered excitedly again. "Just think! The food! The fun! The ghosts!"

Slimer had unfortunately picked up on the word food and turned expectantly. "Fwood?"

"Not yet, Slimer," Harry sighed. "We'll get you something when the food cart-"

"Trolley," Hermione corrected.

"Cart," Harry repeated, "comes around. But you can't eat everything on it, okay, spud? Other people need to eat as well."

Slimer nodded eagerly, before turning back to the window.

"Do you know where we'll be going?" Hermione asked. "I'm rather excited to see different parts of the United States. It's supposed to be quite diverse, you know."

"We know," Harry and Evie chorused together.

"Yes, sorry, of course you would," Hermione sighed. "I forget sometimes."

"We'll have to show you Miskatonic if we get a chance," Harry realized. "And we should. Evie's got to stop by to drop off some of her research and talk to a few professors."

"We'll get to see Miskatonic?" Hermione demanded. "The premiere college for occult studies?"

"Yep," Harry agreed, beaming. "Evie's already attending, and I have a massive scholarship waiting for me if I decide to go there already."

"But you hate studying," Hermione argued.

"Yes, but they want to study me," Harry explained. "Product of being the one person in the world to survive the killing curse. There's a running pool of just what happened, apparently, but my dads have forbade all study until I'm old enough to actually make a choice."

Hermione couldn't decide if that was humorous or awful. She was leaning towards the former.

Choosing not to broach the subject, however, she instead focused on what was ahead. "Should be an interesting summer, though."

"Oh, the best!" Harry agreed.

Unfortunately, all further discussion on the subject was cut short when the trolley lady stopped by with her snacks and Slimer attacked the cart.

As it turned out, the year would conclude with Harry and Evie in a very similar situation to how they'd entered Hogwarts: covered in slime.

AN: Ah, the wonders of slime...

(1) "Disease and Dogs of Death". Harry is just swearing.

(2) "Invocation, purify." Harry is attempting a verbal exorcism. It... doesn't work.

(3) "Invocation, purification through fire." (Yes, that's an actual word) Apparently it's harder to hold on to your possessee while being burned alive... Who knew?

(4) You know what? If it's in Sumerian and I'm not translating it, Harry is swearing. Just go with that.

(5) You know, the Miskatonic course work. The actual important exams.

(6) "The Ghostbusters in Paris." Fun episode. With a fun ending.

That's all the notes! Let me know if there are any questions or comments. Until next time!

Next time: TBD