Note: Mention of rape, but nothing explicit

Happy Friday the 13th!

Fate had a funny way of really fucking Harry over. He'd noticed many times before, and perhaps now he was finally free of all that. Done with Fate jerking his chain, done with trying to survive each and every school year, done with people he knew and loved dying while he lived on through the pain. Just… Done. He wished he could have lived a different life. He really did, but he was fine with accepting the embrace of death and seeing his family again as well. It was peaceful for a moment.

He remembered Voldemort coming for him, casting the one unforgivable Harry had survived before. Harry hadn't thought, just acted. He casted back an experimental spell that should have removed Voldemort completely. It was discussed at length with Hermione, and it seemed like the best idea to him, and in ways she reluctantly agreed, but only if they failed in finding the Horcruxes. Something had obviously failed with the spell, perhaps it didn't land? Perhaps the spells they both cast landed somehow? Either way, he hoped his friends would be alright.

For now though, he drifted in nothingness. Complete silence and well… Nothing was the best way he could possibly hope to explain it. He was sure he was dead, just waiting for Death to guide his soul to wherever his family was waiting for him. Or perhaps the nothingness was all there was? He didn't mind. It was peaceful, something he never truly experienced. He didn't know how long he'd already been there, or how much longer he would be. Still, he knew he could stay here forever, it just seemed so nice. Then, it all came crashing down quite spectacularly.

His body jerked, lungs fighting to remember how to breath, it felt like he was suffocating, unable to suck in any breath around him. Like a flick of a switch, his body seemed to remember how to do basic functions and air flooded into his system so suddenly he felt dizzy from the abruptness of the action. He could hear talking, urgent and somebody pressing something to his lips. It tasted awful, but he swallowed, not fond of the idea of choking or drowning on what he assumed was a potion. It was taken away from him after a moment thankfully, bitter aftertaste still clinging to his tongue.

Everything was dark and blurred, like his eyes hadn't quite caught up to figuring out how to see, much as his lungs had. He felt magic tickling against his skin. From the cold air against his sweating body and the light traces of magic, it gave him a contrast that told him he was in a lot of pain. He didn't know who was helping him - there hadn't been many who would when Voldemort and him fought - and even if there was, surely the Death Eaters wouldn't allow anyone to treat him.

His thoughts drifted back into unconsciousness as his eyes seemed to close on their own, thinking to himself that he clearly wasn't dead. He wasn't sure how he felt about that, but he knew he wasn't rejoicing at the revelation. Hopefully he hadn't failed at the spell as much as Voldemort clearly had.

Waking up again, Harry still felt sore and in pain. Blinking several times at the light above him, he furrowed his eyebrows at the sight above him. It was very familiar, coming in crystal clear yet he knew he couldn't feel his glasses against his face. He knew where he was, having been there several times in his life. Hogwarts, more specifically in the hospital wing. Why was he here of all places? After Dumbledore had died he was sure that he'd never be back. Yet… He was here. Why? How? He had been at the Bill and Fleur's wedding when Voldemort attacked.

Still, he was sore and he sat up slowly, noticing the curtain around his bed. He felt… Different. His body felt heavy with pain and yet lighter then he would have expected. He also felt shorted somehow. Looking down at the gown he was in, he'd clearly been changed out of his robes. He took stock of the pain, but that was hard. Everything hurt to some degree. He looked at his hands, arms bandaged. That wasn't what caught his attention though. His skin was a light color, like he hadn't seen the sun for a long time. Had he been out that long? No, it was like his skin almost had never seen the sun. That took years to reverse after all his quidditch practice and time outside, both at school and working in the garden at the Dursleys from a young age. He had been very tanned, and he had never seen his skin this pale ever before.

Then his eyes fell to his hands, there wasn't the scar there, the one that toad Umbridge had given him. Confusion and apprehension was one of the two major emotions coursing through him, but really, he was trying not to panic about the changes. He moved his legs to the side of the bed, parts of it also bandaged, the skin showing through too white to comprehend. He was about the stand when the curtains pulled back slightly. A woman was watching him sternly, "Don't you even think of getting out of bed! You need much more rest!" Though she had the outfit of Hogwarts Mediwitch, it seemed rather dated and she was most certainly not Madame Pomfrey.

His caution shot through the roof. He did not trust people he didn't know, for good reason. Yet he hadn't died here yet. Or was this some strange afterlife? "Who are you? Why am I here?" Harry demanded back.

She blinked, looking a bit surprised and seemed to stump her out of whatever lecture she was about to give. Shaking her head as if to clear it she said, "I will gladly answer any questions I'm able, Mr. Anderson, but you must stay in bed for the time being, and probably for the next week at the very least!"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Anderson?" Harry questioned, because that most certainly wasn't his name. Then it hit him like a ton of bricks. The spell he used. The one to displace Voldemort. He didn't expect this to be the results, but apparently it had backfired. Spectacularly. Well, it's a good thing it didn't hit Voldemort, if he would have turned out to be a student at Hogwarts, there was already enough going on without him running around with students. But where did that leave Harry? Stuck in another's body apparently. He was… In a body that was not his own and belonged to somebody else. Sucking in a deep breath, he moved his shaking hands to feel his face. It only confirmed his suspicion when he was met with a completely different facial structure then he was used to.

"Oh dear." The mediwitch stated, seeming to catch onto something, "How much do you remember dear?"

Harry took a deep, deep breath, trying to calm down. "This is Hogwarts." He started, and she seemed to perk up, giving a nod. "I don't know much else. I don't even know… What's my full name?" Though it felt like a betrayal to this body to say it was 'his' name.

Whatever relief she had worked up faded quickly, "Oh my. I'm sorry you don't remember, here, lie back in bed, you're straining yourself." Harry nodded, not really feeling like just lying in a medical bed while he just body snatched somebody, but he could feel the strain of sitting. Plus, he needed answers. Laying back slowly, the mediwitch pulled covers back over him, ran a couple of diagnostic spells before sitting down beside him. There must not have been very many other patients then. That was a good sign.

"Let's start with some questions. You've already said you don't remember your name, but you recall this is Hogwarts. Can you tell me what year is it?"

Harry nodded, sure he could do that, at least. "It's 1997."

Her lips pulled into a frown, showing that answer was not what she expected. "No, I'm afraid that it is 1942."

"What?" Harry couldn't help but startle out. No, that wasn't possible, surely? No wizard was ever heard of going that far back in time.

"I'm sorry, but do you know who the Minister of Magic is?"

"No… I…" If he had the wrong year, he had no idea who would be Minister. "I know what that is, but I don't know who's in office."

She nodded, and didn't seem at all surprised. "Well, how about the headmaster? Do you know his name?"

"No." Harry spoke out shakily, looking down at the hands that were not his own, yet attached to his current body.

"Alright. I'll fill you in dear, don't you worry. You were found severely hurt four days ago. You even died there for a moment." Harry closed his eyes. He could guess that the person who did live in this body had died. He didn't feel anyone's presence in it, no screaming or talking to be heard inside the recesses of his head. No extra magic either. Strangely enough, his magic felt like his own. "You made it back thankfully, but it seems you've lost your memory. I'll give you a full report of your injuries in a moment if you'd like." Harry nodded, he wanted to know what had happened to kill this body. "You are a fourth year in Ravenclaw, named Frederick Anderson." What a stupid sounding name. Harry felt a bit bad about thinking that, the kid had died. His life was just beginning, a fourth year at hogwarts and he had died. Harry felt shame at making fun of something so stupid.

"The current headmaster is Armando Dippet." Harry recognized that name, and in a sudden flash of realization, he remembered the year she told him. Tom Riddle was alive and around. Fuck his life. Fate was still yanking his chain it seemed. He definitely needed to get out of this time period. He would most likely influence time, and Hermione had often drilled it into his head how dangerous that could be. "He will wish to see you once you're well, I'm sure." Something must have shown on his face, probably the disbelief he felt. She huffed a bit and said, "You were clearly attacked by multiple people. That is very serious. Though without your memory… I'd hate to ask you to recall what you've gone through, but do you remember any students who would do so?"

Harry shook his head in the negative, a bit shocked. He'd been attacked? By multiple people? Why? What for? "No, I don't remember anything." The line of questioning and information went on, and she gave him a record of his injuries she had made when he first came in and left him to his own devices, promising to return with food or if he called for her.

What the scroll contained wasn't pretty. He had been hurt, and badly. Yet he found out what had probably been the finishing blow that had killed the kid. After reading it - one of the final things listed he had already felt sick but had looked down at his bandaged left wrist. Apparently the only self inflicted wound. Harry put the paper down and tugged at his too long, too straight hair and resisted the urge to cry or scream or just make a fuss.

This poor kid had been attacked, raped, and very severely hurt. Apparently there were other older injuries that had never been treated. This was an ongoing thing. Had nobody noticed? How long had this kid, Frederick, been put through hell? Glowering angrily, he felt sick as well as rage. The kid had apparently had enough, and Harry could only imagine how desperately he wished to die. More so than Harry had ever felt obviously, because the kid had committed to the action.

Trying not to think about things like if the boy regretted it at the end or how much pain he must have been in, Harry swore that while he was in this time period he would try and help the poor dead soul. He would try and find who did it, and turn them in. If none of the adults cared or did anything suitable… Oh who was he kidding? They wouldn't help much. A couple detentions? Maybe suspension at worse? No, Harry was furious for this child. He would do whatever he could to make sure they at least got expelled. Their wands broken and unable to ever do magic seemed fitting.

Too angry to sleep, even with his body wishing to, Harry ate what the Mediwitch brought him silently, and she didn't talk about what was in the scroll, and neither did he. After he ate, he did fall into uneasy sleep.

A week had gone by. Harry couldn't use the boy's wand at all, and had put in a request to get a new one, since it was basically a stick for him. His personality must not have fit the boy very well. Yet, what saddened him was not a single soul came to visit. Which was also a bit of a relief, since he didn't have to try and explain that he didn't know who he was to a virtual stranger. Didn't the other have friends though? It seemed not.

The bandages were off and he was in old fashioned Ravenclaw robed now. There were plenty of scars, but Harry was used to those by now. Just… Not in the places he had them currently. He had gotten a look in the mirror finally, and he had seen light blue eyes staring back at him in place of green, light brown hair that was longer than his usual haircut, but still didn't even reach the shoulders. He looked cute, and a lot like a second year instead of a fourth year. He was about Harry's same weight and height around this time though, if not a bit smaller. Then again, Harry had been told he wasn't average in either.

He couldn't help but wonder who the other boy was, what he was like, and how he was going to get back to his own body. Thankfully his request for a new wand was approved before he was released from the medical wing. That was actually the first place to go. Professor Dumbledore escorted him to Diagon Alley, and Harry tried to pretend he didn't know the man, tried not to be angry or sad at the sight of his old Headmaster and mentor. He hadn't changed much either.

What worried Harry was that he got his same wand at Ollivander's. If he had it now… Then would he be able to get it in the future? He wasn't sure. He took it anyway, enjoying something familiar. Ollivander seemed more pleased to state he had a brother wand, also attending Hogwarts. There was no dread behind the others words this time, but Harry was not happy with the reminder and determined to stay as far away from Tom Riddle as he possibly could. Harry kept the old wand that belonged to Frederick. Perhaps to remind himself that he was merely an intruder, but truly he couldn't think of much else to do to honor the boy's memory.

Dumbledore paid for him, thankfully enough, and had him back before dinner, and Harry went into the Great Hall. Not much was different, but there were a few things. Like the different faces of teachers for one. Though Slughorn he recognized easily enough. At least Snape wasn't here. Thoughts darkening, he had to remind himself to sit at the Ravenclaw table. Anybody who was there ignored him, like he hadn't been gone for weeks. Even one person he sat somewhat close to scooted away from him, giving a sneer. Didn't seem like the kid was popular. He wondered why. It was rather rude though.

Harry didn't say anything as he started eating, wondering if he would have to make up a week's worth of homework. Apparently the teachers had been notified about his amnesia, and that he might need extra help in the class. Though term had only just started, so Harry hoped that he wouldn't have to catch up too much. Though if it was the similar classes as the future, he should be able to pass all his classes, being the second time round. If he stayed that long anyway, he hoped not. He would have to find a more stable spell that would allow him to return to his own body.

He didn't know where the Ravenclaw dorms were, so he discreetly followed some of his housemates to the dorm, listening to the riddle they answered and followed them inside. Though at that point some had noticed him and scoffed a bit. One of them muttering - loud enough for Harry to hear - "I don't know why he's in Ravenclaw." It was said with such bitterness Harry once more wondered at the dislike people seemed to have for him.

He had to ask where his room was, which gathered more sneers and straight up insults before he was told and shooed away. Harry, still feeling a bit confused, not to mention angry, walked to his dorm. When he got there, there was another Ravenclaw boy already sitting there, who looked up and grunted in displeasure before looking back at the book he was reading. Harry looked at each bed before he noticed that one of them was missing a trunk, and all the others didn't have his name. Walking over to the bed, he frowned when he noticed the blankets in tatters too.

It didn't take a genius to figure out this kid was bullied a lot. From physical and magical abuse to childish things like this apparently. "Where's my trunk?" He questioned instead, turning to the only other resident, who looked up, sly smirk on his face to show he knew something.

"Probably at the bottom of the black lake by now."

Harry felt anger coil in him. What was with everybody's attitude towards this kid? Nobody deserved this much harassment. It probably had all his books and school equipment in it too! "Why would you do that?" Harry snapped, but really he wanted to hear the answer.

The other boy seemed a little shocked, to say the least, but recovered quickly with a nasty smile that reminded Harry of Dudley. "What? Grew a backbone while you were in the medical ward or something?"

"Maybe I did." Harry glared.

The other seemed once again stumped. So Frederick probably didn't stand up for himself very often. Who would, after constant harassment? Harry felt for the kid. The boy scowled this time. "Don't try and act all high and mighty. You're nothing, mudblood."

Oh, maybe that's why Frederick had a problem. At least part of the reason anyway was he was a muggleborn. Harry glowered, but turned back to the bed, taking out his wand and fixing the sheets and blankets so they weren't nearly as destroyed. He kept the boy in his peripheral, who seemed to be staring at him, though with what expression Harry couldn't deduce from the angle. Once his bed was set, and with no clothes to change into, he climbed into bed.

Tugging the curtains closed, he put up some spells that would hopefully protect him in the night. One being just a simple alarm to wake him should somebody try opening the curtains. Somebody meant him serious harm, and until he learned who, he was going to be careful. Putting his own wand under the pillow, he laid down, glaring up at the top of the bed. This was going to be a long, tedious school year. For the time he had to stick around, but that was little comfort. Once he was sure everybody else who came into the dorm was asleep did he allow himself to as well.

At least he didn't have any visions of Voldemort here.

He woke up relatively early, and dismantled the spells he put up last night before showering and getting changed back into the same clothes. Sneaking out of the dorm, he was glad he still had his class schedule as well as their locations within the school in his pocket. If his teachers had sent it to his room, he would have most certainly lost it. Going to the black lake, and missing the sight of the whomping willow, he tried an accio in case they hadn't thrown his trunk too far into the water. It seemed like this time, he was in luck as the trunk came out of the water and crashing onto the pebbles near his feet. Pocketing his wand, he opened the trunk, sighing heavily as it was full of water. Dumping it out took time, especially with how much weaker this body was. Once that was done, he saw the kid had little possessions, but that was unsurprising.

A few robes and sleepwear, school books, and a cauldron and potion set. Everything soaking wet. At least the books weren't falling apart from being in the water. He spent some time drying out each item with spells, before casting some protection spells on his trunk that would be far beyond any fourth years. Taking the trunk after everything was dry and repacked, he went back to the Ravenclaw dorm. Nobody seemed surprised at the sight of him dragging his trunk behind him, battered thing it was. Most just snickered. He was really hating this time period. He put his trunk where it belonged in his room, and for extra measure, made sure it was much heavier and harder to move. Only then did he start for his first class.

It had taken longer than he thought, and he knew he couldn't eat in time to get to class. He'd have to make due until lunch. Opening his schedule, he started for Transfiguration.

The class had been annoying, Dumbledore had tried having him sit out for a bit, so he could get caught up. Harry had refused, gathering many confused looks from his classmates. After some convincing, he was able to participate. Dumbledore seemed rather pleased, but shocked when he completed the assignment before everybody else. Everybody else in the class seemed surprised as well, many glaring at him suspiciously, like he'd cheated somehow. At least he'd gotten his house points.

He chalked it up to the assumption that the teachers figured he wouldn't remember the material because of his amnesia. This seemed more stretched the longer he went to classes. The reactions were about the same. Which probably meant that Frederick wasn't that great at spell casting. Harry suddenly wondered if perhaps the wand had never been right, much like with Neville. It would hurt confidence, he knew, and would explain some animosity with the other Ravenclaw students.

It didn't excuse anything anybody had done to Frederick, but maybe he was finally getting answers? He only had Charms, Transfigurations and Division the next day. Still, he was given a lot of homework he had missed over the last week by each teacher, something he was not looking forward to. Especially since he learned that most the curricular was about the same. It was the next day he was looking forward too, he only had Defense Against the Dark Arts and Potions. While not looking forward to Potions, he couldn't wait for his favorite subject, and perhaps they'd have a competent teacher in this time period. The name - Professor Merrythought - sounded vaguely familiar, but with all the memories Dumbledore had shown him it was possible he had heard the name in passing.

Being the class he was actually good at during school, and enjoyed (when the teachers weren't trying to kill him that was) he was actually looking forward to it a bit. He sat down on the same side a couple Ravenclaw students had already sat on. However, he sat away from them, already knowing that they would move away, scowl, and so on. It was probably for the best. He didn't want to cause a stir in time any more then he probably already was doing. A couple gave him seething looks, but mainly he was ignored.

He hoped that they would do some practical spells today, he got a bit of happiness at proving the other students wrong about Frederick being what they probably thought as pathetic. It burned his insides with anger too though. Never had he seen such bullying in his time. Was it really all because he was a muggleborn? Glancing to the other side of the room where he saw some Slytherin's talking, he hardly paid them any mind. That was until his eyes landed on a loner sitting near the back.

There was nothing he could do but stare. He expected to see Tom Riddle around school, but surely he wasn't a fourth year? This assumption that he was higher education level was apparently wrong. What made Harry really pause was just how young Riddle looked. Looking every bit a teenager. "A highly murderous teenager." Harry scoffed internally before looking away. Of course his favorite class had to have some sort of drawback to it. He had to share it with Riddle. Well, as long as they didn't interact. Harry didn't even entertain the thought of killing the other. Even supposing he could get back to his time period, he was sure things would be so different that he wouldn't even be sure what type of difference it would be. Surely it would be better, but he couldn't count on that. Though if he was being honest, he doubted he could kill anyone, even Tom. So, he decided to stick to the plan to ignore Riddle. He doubted it would be a problem to do so.

When Professor Merrythought came into the class once everybody was settled, he actually was a bit different going about Harry. "Mr. Anderson, considering that you've been in the medical ward for the last week and have amnesia, don't feel like you have to participate. If you wish to go over the material, don't worry about it." It was the first time that Harry had been given a choice so far. The first teacher who had mentioned he had amnesia straight out too. He could hear others mutter around the word. He was used to mutters about him though, so he focused on the professor.

"I would like to participate, sir." Harry said politely.

Merrythought nodded, not seeming too surprised one way or the other, and got on with the lesson. Harry still remembered the questions asked, and how they got more complicated as it went on, Harry listened silently until it seemed nobody was going to answer the last one spoken, and only then did he raise his hand and answer it. Merrythought seemed quite shocked by that, but awarded him some house points after staring at him. The silence in the room showed the students shock too. Harry found the material below him, for once in his life. It was nice to know the answers. He wondered briefly if this was how Hermione felt when she knew things. It wasn't bad, though a bit boring going over the same materials.

They practiced a simple jynx after that, one that Harry already knew, and only did once he was asked if he would like to demonstrate it or sit out. He was a bit miffed at all the opportunities to sit out, and so put more effort in doing it flawlessly. Merrythought seemed rather pleased. This didn't stop him from giving Harry the week's worth of homework he missed after class. Harry hated how full his bag was getting. At least he could cast a feather light charm on it.

After that, he headed down to Potions class. After Slughorn making a small joke about him not blowing up the attempt at what they were brewing, Harry once again felt insulted. It seemed most the teachers either babied or made fun of Frederick as well. Was he really that alone before? Some students snickered at him, but a lot of the Ravenclaws who shared classes with him were catching on, giving him looks of mostly suspicion.

Harry wasn't the best at potions, but it was amazing what having brewed them before did, and not having Snape breathing down his neck. It wasn't perfect, but he bet it was at least acceptable before he bottled it and turned it in with some other students. Slughorn looked rather shocked at his success, something Harry wished to remember for some time. He didn't appreciate all the jabs at this kid.

Again, he was given homework on top of everything else. He sighed heavily when he left the room. He had free periods for the rest of the day. He wondered if he could try out for quidditch for the Ravenclaw team. He doubted he'd enjoy the slower brooms as much, and he knew he would have to make an impression to get passed the bias everybody in his house seemed to have against him. It might have been worth it if tryouts were soon.

For now, he thought of all the homework he needed to catch up on. He didn't really want to be in the common room of his house. He disliked most everybody there. So, he started for the library. Suddenly he felt his foot trip over apparently nothing. Only years with tripping over Dudley's fat foot kept him on his feet, though he stumbled noticeably. Turning, he glared at the students who just passed him, snickering. Harry sighed again, trying to uncurl the seemingly constant anger in his chest before he started for the library. It was only a tripping spell, yet the fact that it had happened at all - and by a couple of students from another house, didn't help his mood. He realized he hadn't eaten anything yet that day, and detoured to lunch. Again, most people ignored him, but some were actually giving him strange looks.

Maybe he should tone down how well he was doing in class. Then he remembered all the babying the teachers did, and the way his housemates treated him and quickly decided against it. Once he ate quickly, he continued to the library. There weren't too many students, most going to their classes and electives. Though Harry noticed a lack of those on his own schedule. Probably proof of more babying and belittling.

Searching for a table out of the way, he noticed another occupant. He almost passed her by at the sight of Ravenclaw robes, as he had already made a habit of doing. Then he realized very suddenly he recognized her. The sight of her was like a shock, even though he really shouldn't be. Sitting at the table, sniffling a bit and favoring her arm was Moaning Myrtle, only alive. Without the ghostly image of her, he hadn't recognized her at all. In fact, he wondered why he hadn't in any of the classes they had most certainly shared… Unless she was a year below him? That was possible.

Taking a step forward, he stopped, trying to remind himself not to mess with the timeline. When he noticed the small crack in her lenses, he couldn't help but continue. "Myrtle?" He asked as he approached, ashamed to admit he didn't recall if he ever learned her full name. Her head snapped up, clearly expecting something else, because when her eyes met his she relaxed visibly.

"Anderson." She said, straightening out and seeming to try and pretend nothing was wrong. "What… What do you what?" Her voice was laced with suspicion.

"I was wondering if I could sit with you?" Whatever she was expecting, it wasn't that. Her eyes went wide and she stilled, mouth slightly open before her expression hardened again.

"What? Want to make fun of me?" She paused a moment, seeming confused, "No, you wouldn't do that… You're targeted more than me." She seemed to mutter this to herself, as if trying to figure something out.

"So I've noticed. Can I sit?" She hesitated again, but then nodded. Sitting down across from her, he put his bag down beside him. "Sorry for intruding, if I am. I have a lot of homework to catch up on." Myrtle still seemed unsure, but nodded.

"I heard you were in the medical wing for the last week… Are you alright?" Her voice dropped to a whisper, as if somebody might hear something they shouldn't.

Harry smiled a bit at that, "A few more scars, but honestly I don't remember it at all. I don't remember anything."

"Anything?" She asked, in a much higher, startled voice. She cleared her throat and asked at a much more normal tone, "You don't remember anything?"

"Nope. Couldn't remember my name, or what house I was in even." Harry confirmed.

"Oh! That's dreadful." Yet the way she said it sounded like she found the news thrilling. Considering how she talked about her death, he supposed she just liked morbid things.

"It's been a bit odd. Do you know why people target me so much?" Because surely there was a reason for all the harassment. Nothing excused what happened to the boy, but surely they had reasons of their own? Something?

"Well, you are a muggleborn. I think that's mostly why. Plus they think it's a shameful thing that you're in our house but can't do anything. And they're horrid people." Myrtle muttered, clearly thinking of her own abuse.

"What happened to you?" Harry risked asking.

"I just fell over a stupid tripping spell. Broke my glasses though." She stated, apparently miserable at the mention.

"I know how to fix them. I can if you want." He offered, having had to fix his own glasses on many occasions, he had gotten good at that particular spell.

She gave him a doubtful look. "From what I hear, even before your amnesia you couldn't cast a spell to save your life."

"So I've picked up. If I fail, I'll buy you a new pair." Though he didn't know if he even had any money.

Myrtle still seemed doubted, but nodded, taking them off and squinting at him as she handed them over. Harry took them and cast the spell quickly before handing them back. She slipped them back onto her face, blinking a few times before smiling widely. "You really did do it!" Harry snorted at the others excitement, not taking too much insult at the question of his - or rather Frederick's - ability. "That's amazing, can you teach me?"

"Sure." Harry was fine with that, and did so for the next hour, and Myrtle seemed to pick it up quickly enough. After that, they worked on homework together. Something Harry was grateful for was the occasional conversation. He'd been dreading doing homework alone, though he hadn't realized that until now. He welcomed her company, and tried not to think of the future.

Note:

I will post warnings at the beginning of any chapter they apply.