Weekend

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Arriving in the common room, the green and silver hues provided a familiar sense of belonging. Harry spotted Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis working on an essay they were to write for Potions Class. As he sat next to them, their attention immediately shifted. "Potter," both said with a smile, clearly pleased to see him.

"Greengrass, Davis. Your smiles, as charming as they always are, suggest you might need some help," Harry remarked, a hint of mischief in his tone.

As the girls blushed at the compliment, Nigel couldn't resist a comment, "Flirting at such a young age, Master Harry? I suppose even the magical world isn't immune to the trials and tribulations of teenage charm."

Daphne and Tracey giggled at Harry's words, while Harry ignored the chatty AI, focusing instead on the two Slytherin girls. "So, what's the potion that's got you both so fixated?" Harry inquired, eyeing the parchment sprawled before them.

"It's the Cure for Boils. Professor Snape's demanding a foot-long essay on its ingredients and method," Daphne explained, her fingers tracing the words on the page.

"And let me guess, you're baffled by the use of crushed snake fangs?" Harry ventured, a playful glint in his eye.

Tracey's eyes widened in surprise. "How did you know?"

Harry leaned back, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "It's a tricky part for many. The fangs have to be crushed to a fine powder. If not, they can cause the potion to be too aggressive, worsening the boils instead of curing them."

Daphne nodded, her curiosity piqued. "I see. But how finely should they be ground?"

"Ah, that's the critical part," Harry said with a nod. "They should be powdered finely enough to blend seamlessly with the other ingredients but not so much that they lose their potency. It's all about finding the right balance."

The girls quickly scribbled down the information, their expressions brightening. "Thanks, Potter. You're a lifesaver," Daphne said with a grateful smile.

As they continued discussing potion techniques, Nigel's voice piped up, his tone light and teasing. "My, my, Master Harry, sharing your secrets with the fair maidens of Slytherin? Whatever would your future self think?"

Harry mentally rolled his eyes at Nigel's comment. "It's just potion advice, Nigel. Nothing that would jeopardize my secrets or the System."

"Of course, Master Harry," Nigel replied, the smirk almost audible in his voice. "Just potion advice. Nothing to see here."

Harry, feeling the weight of Nigel's sarcastic humor on his shoulders, retorted in his mind, "Why do I feel a dirty smirk on my back, Nigel? Are you perhaps having dirty thoughts?"

Nigel's response came with a proud snort, "Me? No, Master Harry. I would never entertain such scandalous ideas. I am as pure as the freshly fallen snow on Hogwarts' grounds... well, perhaps with a slight smudge of soot."

Harry couldn't help but chuckle internally at Nigel's witty retort as he turned his attention back to Daphne and Tracey. The conversation about potions flowed easily, and he found a certain joy in sharing his knowledge. He explained the intricacies of potion-making, detailing the effects of each ingredient and the importance of their precise measurements. Daphne and Tracey listened intently, their quills moving rapidly across parchment, capturing every word.

As they wrapped up their discussion, Tracey looked up at Harry with a curious expression. "Potter, how do you know so much about potions? I mean, you're great at them, but your understanding seems... well, beyond our level."

Harry paused, considering how much he could reveal without exposing his secret. "I spend a lot of time reading," he replied cautiously. "And I have a knack for remembering details."

Nigel, ever the silent observer, interjected in Harry's mind, "A knack, he says. If only they knew the extent of your 'knack,' they'd be asking for autographs."

Harry ignored Nigel's comment, maintaining his focus on the conversation. "Besides, I find potions fascinating. It's like a puzzle, where each piece must fit perfectly to create something extraordinary."

Daphne nodded, her eyes reflecting a new respect for Harry. "Well, your passion certainly shows. Thanks again, Potter."

Harry waved his hand as he was about to return to his room when Tracey called out, "Look at the noticeboard." Curious, Harry walked over and read the notice: "Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday – and all houses would be learning together." A grin spread across his face. Flying was something he had a natural affinity for, and he had already been picked for the team. This was his chance to demonstrate his skills in front of the first years, which would undoubtedly help in his quest to become known and pave the way to the Serpent of the Crown.

Daphne and Tracey, equally excited, could already fly, having been trained by their families. With a shared grin of anticipation, they said goodnight and retreated to their rooms. "Time to sleep," Harry murmured as he settled into his bed. Despite the late hour, his mind buzzed with plans and possibilities for the upcoming flying lesson.

The next day, after his usual morning exercise in the mansion's training room within the Enchanted Haven Briefcase, Harry washed up and stepped out. "Today is Saturday. What should I do?" he pondered.

Nigel, sensing Harry's indecision, chimed in with his characteristic sarcasm, "Well, you could always finish exploring the castle. I'm sure the dust bunnies in the unused classrooms are just dying for your company."

"I am sure they do," Harry chuckled, as he walked out of his room. The common room was empty, as it was the weekend, everyone had pressed the snooze button. "What is the magical equivalent of a snooze button, Nigel?" Harry asked with amusement.

Nigel, never one to miss an opportunity for a witty retort, replied, "In the wizarding world, we call it the 'Procrastination Potion,' Master Harry. It's quite popular among students, especially around exam time. Though, I must say, I don't believe you've ever had the need for it."

Harry smiled as he ascended the stairs out of the Slytherin dungeon. The castle was quiet, a rare moment of peace before the usual hustle and bustle began. As he walked, he thought about the day ahead.

He placed the "Enchanted Mirror for Distant Viewing" in his robe, considering the device's condition to "see" places before it could show them a bothersome one. Yet, since Harry was planning to explore the castle anyway, he didn't mind. As he walked the empty corridors, the idea struck him. "Oh, I can go to Hagrid for the creatures in the Briefcase," he mused. "Nigel, please show his Observe message."

[System Message: Rubeus Hagrid - Half-giant, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. Friendly and fond of magical creatures. No malicious intent detected.]

Reviewing the message, Harry nodded. "He is indeed fond of magical creatures. I can learn a lot from him. The question is if he would help me. Not like we are friends," he remarked, his tone contemplative.

"Perhaps not, but you have a certain charm about you, Master Harry," Nigel interjected, "especially when you're not plotting the downfall of your enemies."

Harry smiled, knowing Nigel's quip held a kernel of truth. He had a way of making allies, often when he least expected it.

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