Cautious Thinking

Harry woke up to early morning sunlight streaming through the Hospital Wing's tall windows. He turned his head and saw Charlotte already awake in the next bed, staring at the ceiling with a blank look on her face. Her right hand slowly traced the angry red lines that crossed her left arm.

"Morning," Harry said, sitting up in his bed.

Charlotte blinked and looked over at him. "Oh. Good morning, Harry." Her voice was quiet, almost distant. She went back to examining her arms, twisting them to see how far the scars extended.

"Does it still hurt?" Harry asked, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

"Not really. Just feels... strange." Charlotte's fingers kept tracing the marks. "They go all the way down my legs too. Madam Pomfrey says they won't fade much more than this."

Harry felt that familiar twist in his stomach. "I'll find a way to fix them! There has to be some kind of magic that-"

"Dark magic scars can't be healed, Harry," Charlotte cut him off, finally meeting his eyes. "It's just how it works. Even really powerful healers can't fix them."

"But I could-" Harry started excitedly, thinking about how he might get an offer that allows him to heal her in the future. Then he stopped, mouth still open.

Wait.

He shouldn't tell her about that, should he? His new, clearer mind pulled up faded memories of conversations with Grandpa Dumbledore. All those careful questions about where his powers came from. The way Grandpa's eyes had looked when he mentioned Occlumency lessons to protect Harry's mind.

There were bad people who wanted to hurt him. People like the Death Eaters of Voldemort. If they knew about the offers...

"You could what?" Charlotte asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I... I'll figure something out," Harry said, less enthusiastically this time. "Even if it takes a really long time. There's got to be a way."

Charlotte snorted. "You're sweet, Harry. But you don't need to fix everything. Sometimes things just... happen."

Before Harry could argue, Madam Pomfrey bustled in with her wand already drawn. She cast a few quick diagnostic spells over Harry, nodding to herself.

"Well, Mr. Potter, you're free to go. Just some minor bruising, nothing serious. Though I expect you to come straight back if you feel dizzy or sick." She gave him a stern look that reminded him of Aunt Min. "Miss Whitewood needs rest, so off you go."

Harry slid off the bed, but hesitated. He didn't want to leave Charlotte alone. "Can I come visit later?"

"After lunch," Madam Pomfrey said, already moving to check Charlotte's bandages. "And only for a short while, mind you."

Harry dragged his feet as he left the Hospital Wing. For once, he didn't feel like flying. His new clearer thoughts made him want to just walk and think about everything that happened. The hallways were oddly quiet this morning, with only the occasional portrait whispering as he passed.

Through the tall windows of the second floor corridor, he spotted what looked like half the school gathered on the grounds below. Of course they'd want to see it - the mountain that got eaten by the mist-powered super-Boggart.

Harry pushed open one of the windows, letting the cool morning air rush in. The crowd's excited chatter drifted up, along with pointing fingers aimed at the damaged mountainside. The crater looked even bigger in the daylight, a massive bite taken out of the rocky face.

He transformed into his eagle form and launched himself through the window, riding the morning heated air up into a lazy circle above the gathered students.

A flash of pink hair caught his attention. Tonks was standing with Chiara and Penny near the edge of the crowd, gesturing dramatically as she talked. Harry tucked his wings and dove down, landing carefully on Chiara's shoulders with a gentle grasp of his talons.

"Morning Harry," Chiara said without looking up, clearly used to him doing this by now. "Come to see what everyone's fussing about?"

Harry bobbed his eagle head in response, watching the other students point and gossip about the mountain. Some thought it was a failed experiment from the Department of Mysteries, others claimed a dragon had blasted the mountainside in rage. None of them were even close to guessing that a seven-year-old boy and his friend had accidentally amplified an empowered Boggart that exploded.

He settled more comfortably on Chiara's shoulder, careful not to dig his talons in too deep. Grandpa Dumbledore would handle the Ministry people. Harry knew better than to say anything that might make things harder for him.

"I heard Professor Kettleburn say it happened last night," Tonks was saying, her hair shifting through worried shades of blue. "Late into the night. But none of the teachers will tell us what really happened."

"Maybe it was something from the Forbidden Forest?" Penny suggested, chewing her bottom lip. "There are all sorts of dangerous creatures in there."

Harry shifted his weight on Chiara's shoulder, watching more students trickle out of the castle to gawk at the damaged mountain. His new perfect memory kept replaying the moment when the Boggart-circle had exploded, taking a huge chunk of rock with it. It felt weird at times, being able to remember every single detail so clearly now.

"Wotcher, Harry," Tonks said, reaching out to scratch his feathered head. "You've been awful quiet up there. Usually you're chirping away at us."

Harry just clicked his beak in response. He'd never been very good at lying, and something told him it was better to stay quiet than risk saying something wrong.

After a few more minutes of listening to wild theories about the mountain (someone suggested it was gnomes with explosives), Harry spread his wings and took off. He needed to talk to Aunt Min about something important anyway.

He found her in her office, grading papers with that strict frown she always wore when marking essays. Harry landed on her desk, careful not to disturb the neat piles of parchment.

"Good morning, Harry," she said without looking up.

Harry transformed back, nodding as he settled into the chair across from her desk. "Good morning. Um, Aunt Min? Could you help me with something?"

She set down her quill, giving him her full attention. "Of course. What do you need?"

"Well..." Harry pulled out his Hero's Journal from behind his back. "I want to keep this with me all the time, but I'm worried about dropping it. Could you maybe conjure me a belt or something to hold it?"

McGonagall studied the leather-bound book for a moment. "You know," she said slowly, "we might as well make a trip to Diagon Alley. I could use a break after all this..." She waved vaguely toward the window. "Albus won't even tell me what really happened with that mountain."

Harry tried very hard to look innocent as she continued, "A conjured belt would work, but if you want something properly secure for your journal, we should get you a proper magical holder. The shops in Diagon Alley have excellent enchanted equipment."

"Really?" Harry perked up. "Can we go now?"

McGonagall's lips twitched into a small smile. "I suppose my marking can wait. Though I must ask - why is this journal so important to you?"

Harry clutched the book closer. "It's... a special gift from Grandpa. Like a friend that helps me remember things." It wasn't exactly a lie. The journal did help him remember stuff, just not in the normal way.

"Very well," McGonagall said, standing up. "Let me send a quick message to Albus, and then we can use my Floo."

McGonagall waved her wand, sending a quick silvery cat to Dumbledore. "Come here, Harry. You remember how to use the Floo?"

Harry nodded eagerly. "Step in, speak clearly, keep my elbows tucked in, and don't breathe in the ash!"

A pinch of powder, a flash of green flames, and they arrived at the Leaky Cauldron. Harry brushed some soot off his black robes while McGonagall cleaned them both with a quick spell. The pub was mostly empty this early, with just the bartender wiping down the counter and a witch in her thirties sleeping in the corner.

The brick wall parted at McGonagall's wand, revealing Diagon Alley before them. Harry loved seeing the street like this, peaceful and quiet before the usual crowds arrived. McGonagall held his hand firmly while they strolled through the street.

They passed Ollivanders, its dusty window display showing a single wand on a faded purple cushion. Harry really couldn't wait to get his own wand, he would be so much stronger than he was now. But no matter how much he had begged in the past, he'd been told to wait until he was eleven years old. He'd be ancient by then, but he had to listen…

The white marble of Gringotts caught the morning sun, making Harry squint. Two goblins stood guard at the bronze doors, watching everyone with suspicious eyes. Harry looked at them curiously - they were nothing like the house elves at Hogwarts. Where house elves lived to help wizards with everything, goblins only helped with money and gold. It seemed weird to Harry that they'd pick just one thing to be good at. Maybe they weren't smart enough to learn other stuff like the house elves could?

"Aunt Min," Harry whispered as they walked past. "How come goblins only do banking? Wouldn't they be more useful if they helped with other things too?"

McGonagall's grip on his hand tightened slightly. "That's not a appropriate way to think about magical beings, Harry. Goblins have their own culture and choose their own path. They aren't here to be useful to wizards."

Harry frowned, not really understanding but noting her tone meant he shouldn't ask more questions about it right now. They turned down towards the South Side of the alley, where the fancier shops were. A sign reading 'Twilfitt and Tattings' hung over their destination, the gold letters gleaming in the morning light.

Harry followed McGonagall into Twilfitt and Tattings, where polished wooden floors gleamed under floating crystal lights. The air smelled like new leather and expensive cloth. Display cases lined the walls, showing off fancy bags and belts that sometimes moved on their own.

A pretty young woman in dark blue robes stood near the entrance, arranging a display of furry scarves. She turned as the bell chimed, and her face lit up with recognition.

"Professor McGonagall! What a lovely surprise!"

"Miss Ellis," McGonagall said warmly. "How wonderful to see you. Still keeping up with your Transfiguration, I hope?"

"Of course! The techniques you taught me have been invaluable for altering clothing patterns during my apprenticeship at Twilfitt and Tattings." Miss Ellis smiled, then glanced down at Harry. Her eyes widened and her hands flew to her mouth. "Oh my- is that- Harry Potter?"

"Hello," Harry said politely, already bored with the familiar reaction. He'd seen it hundreds of times by now - the wide eyes, the hand over mouth, sometimes even squeals of excitement. At least Miss Ellis wasn't trying to touch him like some people did.

"We're looking for something to hold Harry's journal," McGonagall said, steering the conversation away from Harry's fame. "Something sturdy and practical, with good protection charms."

Harry tuned out their discussion of materials and enchantments, looking around the shop instead. Everything was neat and organized, unlike Madam Malkin's cluttered shop down the street where he got his robes last time they were in the Alley. The leather items caught his attention - belts that adjusted themselves, bags that could hold more than they showed, and even a pair of boots that promised to keep your feet dry no matter what.

"What about this one?" Miss Ellis held up a green leather belt with black clasps. "It's Welsh Green dragon hide, very durable, and it has basic protection against water and tears."

Harry shook his head. "It needs to be special," he said. "The journal's really important."

He didn't add that it was because the journal was bound to his soul, or that it had powerful enchantments on it. Some things were better kept secret, even from nice shop assistants who used to be Aunt Min's students.

"Hmm." Miss Ellis tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Well, we do have something rather special in the back. One moment."

She disappeared behind a velvet curtain, returning with a black leather belt that seemed to shine slightly in the light. "This is made from Hebridean Black dragon hide - quite rare. It's got some serious protective enchantments woven in."

Harry stepped closer, running his fingers over the smooth surface. The leather felt warm, almost alive under his touch. He noticed little details - how the silver buckles were shaped like tiny dragons, how the stitching formed subtle patterns that he didn't recognize.

"The enchantments include protection against fire, water, and basic tampering," Miss Ellis explained. "There's also an anti-theft charm that makes it impossible for anyone but the owner to take any pouches, books or whatever you put on it away. And see this?" She pointed to a small silver disc on the side. "That's a shrinking charm trigger. Touch it twice and the whole thing shrinks down to pocket size."

Harry glanced at McGonagall. "What do you think, Aunt Min?"

McGonagall examined the holder carefully. "The craftsmanship is excellent. Though I expect the price reflects that quality."

Miss Ellis nodded eagerly. "It's normally 114 galleons, but for Harry Potter..." She clasped her hands together. "I could bring it down to 80 galleons."

Harry frowned at that. He didn't like when people changed prices just because of who he was. That was about thirty percent off, which seemed like way too much just for being famous.

"We'll pay the full price," McGonagall said firmly, giving Harry's shoulder a gentle squeeze. She must have noticed his discomfort.

"Oh, but I insist-" Miss Ellis started.

"The full price," McGonagall repeated sternly. Harry smiled up at her, grateful she understood.

Miss Ellis nodded quickly and rang up the full price. McGonagall counted out the galleons while Harry picked up the dragon hide belt, running his fingers over the smooth leather.

He wrapped it around his waist, the belt hanging loose until it suddenly shrank with a soft whisper of magic, fitting perfectly.

Reaching behind his back, Harry summoned his Hero's Journal and the familiar leather-bound book appeared in his hands, but then he stopped, not quite sure what to do next. The belt didn't have any obvious places to store the book, and he didn't want to do it wrong.

"Um, Miss Ellis?" Harry looked up at her. "Could you show me how to put my journal on?"

Miss Ellis crouched down beside him, her blue robes pooling on the polished floor. "Of course! Here, let me show you." She gently took his hand that was holding the journal. "You just need to press it against where you want it to stay, and think about keeping it there. The magic will do the rest."

Harry followed her guidance, pressing the journal against his right hip while thinking really hard about wanting it to stay put. There was a small click, and the journal settled firmly against the belt.

"Perfect!" Miss Ellis beamed at him. "And when you want to take it off, just touch it and think about letting it go. Try it!"

Harry touched the journal, thinking about picking it up, and it popped right off into his hands. A huge smile spread across his face as he tried attaching and removing it a few more times. This was brilliant - no more worrying about holding it to get the enchantments to work. He quickly got out his pouch from his inner robes and pressed it to his left hip until it too let off a click.

"Thank you," Harry said to Miss Ellis, still grinning as he gave the journal one final pat where it rested against his hip.

"Goodbye, Miss Ellis!" Harry waved as they left the shop, the little bell chiming behind them. The morning sun had risen higher now, warming the cobblestones as more shoppers began filling the alley.

A thought that had been bubbling in his mind since getting the "Devouring the Heart" offer finally spilled out. "Aunt Min, how much does a dragon's heart cost?"

McGonagall made a funny sound, somewhere between a laugh and a cough. "Around seven hundred and fifty galleons for a common breed. The rarer ones can go for over a thousand."

Harry's eyes went wide. That was a lot more than his new belt! He'd been hoping maybe they could get one or two so he could get stronger, but... "Does Hogwarts have any? In the potions storage maybe?"

This time McGonagall did laugh, a warm chuckle that made her stern face soften. "Merlin's beard, no, Harry. Dragon hearts are far too expensive for the school budget. Even if we had them, they'd be saved for extremely important potions." She looked down at him curiously. "What brought this on? Have you been reading about dragons in the library again?"

Harry shrugged, trying to look casual even as he thought of another way to get a dragon heart. Could he trade something valuable? But what did he have that was worth hundreds of galleons? Nothing really…

"Just wondering," he said finally. "Since we got dragon hide for my belt. Made me think about what else you can get from dragons."

McGonagall patted his shoulder. "Well, if you're interested in dragons, perhaps we should visit the bookshop before heading back? I'm sure there are some age-appropriate books about them."

Harry nodded eagerly. Even if he couldn't get a dragon heart right now, he could at least learn more about them. His perfect memory would help him remember everything he read, and maybe he'd find another way to get what he needed. And he'd never get tired of reading about dragons, they're amazing!