24 Chapter 24

"My what?" Harry asked.

"Wealth By Level," Milo said. "It's the average amount of total money, in cash, magic items, fortresses, that kind of thing, that a person has based on their level. So like, a powerful wizard can use a Broom of Flying to clean his floors with because he can afford twelve, while a lower-level wizard couldn't even get one."

"Oh," said Harry. "Here, we just call it capitalism."

"Weird. So, what's the deal with this Hagrid guy?"

"Oh, he's a giant, he's my friend — he took me from the Dursleys — and lives in a hut outside the castle. Takes care of the grounds and things. He actually sent me a letter inviting me down to visit him," Harry said. "I think I'll head down later this evening."

"Huh. So tell me, did you notice anything weird about Quirrell's stutter last night?" Milo asked.

"You mean, two nights ago?" Harry asked. Milo nodded, he was still sort of disoriented from sleeping all day. Harry frowned. "I can't swear to it, but I think, just briefly, he was talking normally. Maybe he was so frightened that he sort of stuttered so far he wrapped around and came back the other side?"

"Yeah, maybe," Milo said. There was something he was missing, he was sure of it. His forehead wrinkled with deep thought. "Okay, hang on. Describe Quirrell to me, and pretend I've never met him before, okay?"

Harry looked at Milo like he'd gone crazy (Milo was used to that look by now) but complied. Quirrell: had a verbal tic (one) wore a weird turban (two) was completely spineless (three) but could apparently summon courage when necessary (four!) and emanated an odour of garlic (five).

"Oh my gods," Milo said. "How could I have been so stupid?"

"What, what is it?" Harry asked.

"Five adjectives! Nobody gets five adjectives so soon after meeting them!"

"What?" Harry asked.

"It's just like on the train, remember? When I told you to write down everyone who could be described with more than two adjectives? It's why we go on adventures with Ron and not Dean or Seamus. The more unique a person is, the more important they are."

"So, what does this mean?" Harry asked. He was beginning to feel that Milo's sanity was much like Quirrell's stutter: he went so far through insane that he came out the other side, and started making sense. Well, kind of.

"It means Quirrell is big news, but it's too early to say yet which side he's on. I feel like there's something I should be remembering but just can't."

"You mean, like your parents?" Harry asked.

"No, like something someone said in passing but I didn't write down. Can I see your notes?" Milo asked.

"What, you mean, like from Herbology?"

"No, not those. The adventure notes."

"Oh, sure," Harry said, pulling the lists that Milo had asked him to write from his bag. There were the lists of mysterious things people had said, of unexplained events, and of important characters. Milo pointed out Quidditch: Seeker is for PCs with some satisfaction, but otherwise the search was fruitless.

"Ah, well. It was worth a shot. Maybe we'll hear something that'll make all of this make sense," Milo sighed. "Until then, we'll just keep listening closely."

His next visitor after Harry left was quite unexpected.

"So, we meet again, Malfoy." Milo said coolly.

"Indeed, we do at that," Malfoy sneered. "I just came to see if you were really as weak, injured, helpless, and alone as they say."

"Oh, are you threatening me? Is this really happening? Because as I remember, I've got you two for two, Slytherin."

"Not a threat, no, not at all," Malfoy said, and grinned. "Just thought I'd drop by, say hi, wish you well and tell you I know what you're up to."

"What I'm — I mean, you don't know anything. Fool." Milo said, but quietly his mind raced. What was Milo up to? Not much, really. Just sort of blundering through encounter after encounter, so far; brute forcing his way through problems with magic. But active plotting? Not so much.

"And more importantly, my father knows," Malfoy said. "And my father controls the Wizengamot." Malfoy grinned. "I'd keep an eye on the morning paper, if I were you." He moved to leave, but paused. "Fortunately," he added, "I am not you." He then walked off, whistling softly to himself.

"Well, that was cryptic," Milo mused to himself. "I'm starting to think I should maybe figure out what in Baator is going on before I wind up there."

To do that, he had to go to the library. To do that, he had to get out of this accursed hospital bed — but that wouldn't happen until he had healed to Madam Pomfrey's satisfaction.

"New plan," he said. "Bring the library to me."

o—o—o—o

"He asked for what?" McGonagall asked.

"He wants to borrow half the library," Madam Pince, the librarian, said calmly. "Said he didn't want to get behind in his studies, and that he would just start at A and work his way down to Z"

"Don't we have rules against this?" McGonagall asked.

"Well, frankly, it's never come up," said the librarian. "Until Hermione Granger, nobody ever took out more than a book or two at a time. Most students only read when they absolutely have no other option, and even then, generally only the Ravenclaws."

"Well… I feel we have no choice but to allow it, save, obviously, those in the Forbidden Section," McGonagall said. "Lest we encourage rule-breaking among the students by example. I'll allocate a few first-year Gryffindors to help transfer the books, I suppose. You owe me a favour, though, Irma."

The professors had started using Gryffindor's detention hours as the basis of a crude barter system. Snape had been selling them at a premium price, mostly to get out of his scheduled time patrolling the corridors of Hogwarts and dealing with Peeves. They were then re-sold between the professors in exchange for favours, assistance, and occasionally even money (the going rate three knuts per hour per student, well below what minimum wage would be if the wizarding world had a minimum wage). The students, of course, knew nothing of this.

o—o—o—o

"Scholar's Touch," Milo cast, and tapped a handful of books. He could read four per casting, and could cast the spell nine times. Mordy's head perked up as his brain, too, was flooded with information. Milo tossed the books into a rapidly-growing Finished pile, and reached for the top few books in the To Read pile, which was less of a pile and more of a small mountain. "Scholar's Touch, Scholar's Touch, Scholar's Touch, Scholar's Touch…"

o—o—o—o

The next morning, Milo was finally allowed out of the hospital wing. He was still under strict orders not to exert himself, and to avoid any undue stress. As a result, he was freed from the gruelling labour that the teachers were forcing the Gryffindors to undertake by way of detention. He walked, somewhat gingerly, down to the Great Hall for breakfast. As he entered, he made sure to affect an exaggerated limp and weak pace. He staggered towards the Hall, and pushed open the massive double-doors dramatically. He was deliberately a few minutes late, ensuring that the enormous chamber was more-or-less full, thus maximizing the impact.

o—o—o—o

Conversation in the room dimmed to a murmur as he walked silently down to the Gryffindor table, and sat down between Hannah and Ron.

"Hey," he said casually. "I miss anything?"

"Nice entrance," said Ron. "Though I think you were missing some sort of dramatic announcement, like 'that dragon won't bother us again anytime soon,' or possibly, 'the time has come.'"

"Everyone's a critic," Milo sighed.

"Don't be rude, Ron," Hannah said. "Or should I call Lavender back to have another little talk with you?"

Ron's face paled, and he fell silent. Hermione, Milo noticed, was very pointedly not speaking with Ron. Milo shrugged. The intricacies of most social interaction were lost on him, and they seemed largely pointless anyways.

"I want everyone to keep a careful eye on Malfoy," Milo said. "He's up to something, but I'm not sure what, yet."

"Sure thing, mate." Ron said as the owl post arrived. Milo questioned the hygiene of having a flock of owls flying in during breakfast every morning, but as he always ate from his perfectly-sterile Everlasting Rations anyways, he didn't mention anything. Also, owls? Seriously?

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