11

Chapter 11: Smoke and Mirrors

Harry was pensive.

He sent out a missive to Lupin to ask him any kind of advice he could give in regards to pranking an Auror.

Hedwig returned the day after he sent her out with a reply, in which the friendly neighbourhood werewolf told Harry that "he needed to do this on his own". Apparently, the styles of each of the Marauders were different enough so they did everyday jokes on their own, only gathering together for large-scale mischief, so he wanted Harry to find his own style before coming to him for ideas. That said, Remus did send him a list of highly useful tips of a general kind along with a warning that Aurors were trained to feel incoming magic, so direct hexing was out.

Now Harry was sitting near the lake, under his favourite tree, with a hand propped under his chin, a thoughtful expression on his face. To his right, Luna was walking in circles, as if dancing with someone invisible.

"Style," he muttered, glancing at the letter in his right hand and reading aloud an excerpt. "'Think about how you want people to feel with your jokes, what impression should they leave, will they be done in good humour or specifically make fun of some git or other. Note: don't overdo it. You don't need to make mortal enemies, you have them already.' What a bundle of sunshine he is."

"Don't be sarcastic," Luna chided softly, pausing in her waltz, "it attracts the attention of Nargles and Brain-Rotting Nefarans."

Harry chortled.

"Nefarans? That is something new. Tell me about them."

The blonde shrugged and twirled around once again.

"They are very small, grey and look like bats with long tubes instead of a mouth. They feed on carrion, and dead brains are a delicacy for them. As anyone knows, sarcasm kills your brain bit by bit, so Nefarans hunt for sarcastic people. Then they wait until you fall asleep and then eat your brains through the ears."

Harry paled and shuddered at the disturbing imagery, involuntarily touching his ears..

"Luna, you're a sweetheart, but I'm afraid that you're a person with a high freak-out factor," he grumbled and froze. Slowly, a smile spread on his face at the thought that came to him just then.

"Freak out... Hah! I've found it! I watched Fred and George do loud, noisy and completely out-of-proportion pranks, and it's not my cup of tea despite my father doing pretty much the same. But you know what? I will do better. I will make them doubt their own sanity, not knowing what happened to the world around them that made everything go bonkers!" Harry started chuckling. The chuckles soon made way to a full-blown cackling.

"Um... but how will you do this?" Luna tilted her head, peering at the laughing boy with a puzzled expression. The laughter ceased abruptly. Harry's brow creased.

"That... is a good question. My first and, for now, only target is an Auror. I can't just hex her with something mind-altering, she'd notice it. Considering the fact that I've decided that I will make her doubt she has woken up, as the reality would be just too weird to be anything else than a dream... I need..." Harry sat on the ground again and scratched the back of his head. After that, he looked around, searching inspiration, and noticed a certain roommate heading towards the castle. Then it struck him with the gentle touch of a Bludger on top speed.

"Oy! Nev!"

Neville paused and turned towards the voice. "Harry? What?"

"I need you for a second!" seeing him pause, as if hesitating, the boy continued: "Come on, drag your Longbottom over here!"

Neville blinked at the request, but reluctantly approached him.

"Listen, Neville, I need your help as the budding Herbology master," Harry noticed a pleased blush on the shy boy's face and mentally awarded himself a cookie.

"W-what do you need?"

"Nev, tell me, do you know of any magical plants that can induce a hallucinogenic effect?"

Neville sputtered.

"Why do you need dr-drugs?"

"I don't need drugs." Harry said quickly. "I just need something that will make you taste colours, preferably with little to no side effects and I don't need anything addictive." Neville sighed and reluctantly nodded.

"I-I think I know of something like that. Do you r-remember the purple fumeleaf that I used to have in our dorm?"

"Wait, wait, wait a second. That funky smelling specimen of magical flora was actually called..."

"Purple fumeleaf."

"...well, it fits. So, that was a hallucinogen?" Harry grinned like the Cheshire cat. "Nev, you drug-dealer, you! Bad boy!"

"It...It wasn't like that!" the boy waved his hands frantically with a slightly reddened face. "The vapours this plant produces when it matures are hallucinogenic, especially in its natural habitat – tropical rainforests. You see, somehow the moist atmosphere..."

"The point, Neville, the point."

"R-right," Neville looked upset and sheepish at the same time, but quickly continued. "Well, I wanted to see if I could prevent the plant from... creating the fumes. It worked – to-to an extent. I want to do another experiment, but I need a greenhouse and professor Sprout said that she will give me some space to work, but only next year."

"I take it you couldn't just find an unused classroom and charm it to suit your needs? That's what everyone's doing."

That suggestion stalled the words ready to leave the blonde's mouth. He frowned and rubbed his forehead.

"That... could w-work. But I'll need to ask professor McGona-McGonagall..."

"Don't bother. No one does. There are far too many rooms in this castle. All we have to do is find one room far out of the way, charm it for privacy, do whatever we need to do to turn the class into a makeshift greenhouse..."

"'We'?" Neville questioned, a sliver of hope shining in his eyes. Harry shrugged.

"I need someone to bounce ideas off. Someone who knows what thinking inside the box entails," he threw an amused glance at Luna, who was cheerfully waving at the giant squid, who was also jerking a tentacle in the air, either answering her or signalling epileptic seizures. "Who wouldn't blow a gasket at the concept of defying the rules without a particular reason but just for the fun of it, and who, when I turn all theoretical, wouldn't be needlessly bored and demand an explanation in simple words and crayon." That was a bit harsh. Harry sighed. "Don't misunderstand me – Luna, Hermione and Ron are great friends, but in the current situation I could use one friend more."

"Why not Seamus or Dean?"

"You know Dean – he's the laid-back, go with the flow kind of guy. He wouldn't want to do something like pranking someone. And Seamus... if he agreed, he would just do it to impress some girl, not for the fun of it, and he would want to change the idea so as to seem more attractive, as he sees it. And, well, I always saw you as someone who has never been allowed to be naughty and disobey rules. Let's just say I want to see you grow, and rebellious behaviour is a first step to becoming a great person, or something like that. So, do you want to be a bad boy for once?"

After hesitating for a second, Neville grinned and nodded.

"That actually wasn't a question, but glad that you agree."

Twenty minutes later

"I think this should do it," Harry nodded in satisfaction, fully opening the door to a huge classroom on the dungeon level. "It's humid here... Ack, the smell!"

Neville followed him, grimacing at the stink of stale air.

"Yes, this should do nicely! It must have been the lecture hall when all the houses had shared lessons. I think that it fell out of use fairly long ago, judging by the fact that the elves haven't bothered to clean here," Harry ran up the stairs between two blocks of tables. "Hah! Neville, if we manage to create ventilation here, I believe it is going to be one hell of a greenhouse!"

"If."

"Nah. We'll turn the library upside down and find a solution. No worries," Harry waved, skipping down and looking around absent-mindedly.

"Harry?"

"Yes?"

"Why are you helping me in this? Plants were never your favourite subject," Neville asked, peering at his dorm mate suspiciously. Harry shrugged.

"I need a new project to work on. Last year I had the Patronus, which was a major pain to learn and required me to start learning an additional discipline to pull it off decently. Also, I had my plans to double my liquid assets in the span of a couple of years that also had me brainstorming like you won't believe. This year I have the duelling with Flitwick and ... well, that's it. I feel as if only half of my brain is working, while the other is dying of boredom and slowly converting to fat. Unpleasant, I'm telling you."

"Oh," the blonde boy looked at him peculiarly. Harry shrugged.

"Now I have a vague idea of a prank, plus an incentive to create a source of potion ingredients that can be used in all kinds of mischief and rule-breaking – all for good cause, naturally. It will come in handy anyway."

Neville nodded, satisfied with this reasoning.

That night, sleep did not want to come to Harry for a long time. When it finally did, the dream that he saw was nothing like he ever experienced.

The sound of running water. A small river.

On the shore was a mighty oak, its leaves trembling under the wind. Amongst the roots, there were many small skeletons. Mice, squirrels, other small rodents, some snakes. Rats. One of them was not a skeleton, but alive. It was changing, becoming a short balding man in ragged clothes and small, beady eyes that normally would dart from side to side in constant search of danger. Not now, however. Now, they were too busy beholding the presence before them.

"Master! I found you!"

A cold smile, woven of smoke, was the answer.

And he awoke with a gasp.

Harry sat on his bed with his head hidden in his arms. What was that dream? It seemed so vivid, so damn real. He didn't know how, but he knew that he witnessed something that actually happened. The boy got up quietly, got his clothes on and left his dorm without making a sound.

He couldn't sleep with his nerves as high as they were, so he might as well do something worthwhile instead of lying in his bed and throwing out wild guesses regarding the weird dream.

He was going to do something that he actually liked to do occasionally on the nights when insomnia grabbed him in a friendly headlock – sneak into the Restricted Section and find some books to skim through in the search of something that would grab his attention.

Fifteen minutes later he was already inside of the Section, absently renewing the slightly worn off magical vision charm on his glasses. He wandered through the dusty room, finally stopping by the shelf that contained most of the books whose titles started with the letter S. He started running his hand across the leathery covers.

"Sighting the Elven Path". A work of a wizard who researched the departure of True Elves from this world, a rather fascinating topic, but very difficult to read due to the sheer amount of elven clans mentioned. Damn genealogy, it's too confusing to try to keep all the names straight.

"Sigils and Gestures of Power". A tome about runes and correlating hand signs. From what I can tell, it contains tips on using your fingers as a magical focus. Unfortunately, I can understand barely a quarter of it the rest goes completely over my head. Oh, I haven't looked through this one before...

"Smoke and Mirrors: the Most Subtle Art of Illusion". Maybe it can assist me in my current project... or both of them. Grinning, Harry tapped his wand on the shelf and expanded it so it would look somewhat like a table. After carefully levitating a chair that stood in the corner to the improvised reading space and plopping down on it, the boy began to read, quietly chuckling at some points.

The second DADA lesson was slightly different from the first. Moody wouldn't stop frowning for the whole lesson, frightening some girls (and a couple of boys, to their eternal shame) into stuttering. After a rather long quiz on the homework (which was very interesting for Harry, as Moody explained the tendencies in magical development over the last thousand years, even if briefly) the retired Auror began a long-winded monologue on Dark Wizard psychology.

"A third of those who step on the dark path," he orated in a voice that was rather close to a growl, "do so with good intentions. 'So what if I use the Entrails Expelling Curse a couple of times? It doesn't matter as long as I aim it at the bad guys!' Wrong. Disregarding the moral ambiguity of this view, the Dark Arts are addictive by their very nature. They are not the ultimate road to power as many believe, but a costly short-cut. They change you, addict you. Enslave you. In the end, it is you who serve the Dark Arts."

Harry exited the Defence classroom, frowning thoughtfully. Something in the lecture hit a chord within him, Hermione and Ron followed him, trading looks of worry that he could almost feel. They walked to the kitchens in silence. There, he prepared his usual meal, moving automatically, his brain occupied with a simple question, a question that he finally asked five minutes after they started to eat.

"Why do Dark Wizards desire power?"

Hermione looked up at him. She chewed her steak, swallowed and answered:

"Ambition."

He slowly nodded, accepting her one-word explanation, but muttered:

"It just doesn't make sense… it cannot be the only reason," Harry hummed, rubbing his temples in an effort to speed up his cognitive functions. He started to think out loud.

"What is power? An ability to change things? A guarantee of safety? An ego booster? Something to lord over the others? All of the above?" Harry bit his lower lip. What is it for me, then?

The answer did not come to him quickly.

On a late evening in the middle of September, an owl from Gringotts flew into the Gryffindor Common room. Aside from a few seventh-years who were pulling an all-nighter, there were only Harry and Hermione, Ron having already gone to sleep. Harry has just finished his Transfiguration essay and now was doodling animated illustrations under the text just for the fun of it. At the sight of the owl, however, he quickly turned serious and pushed the parchment aside. As soon as it reached him, he grabbed the letter the owl carried and started reading. Immediately after finishing, he exploded with curses.

"Language, Harry. And eww. What happened that provoked this?" Hermione asked, lifting her eyes from her Rune atlas. The boy paused in the middle of a wicked swear and grimaced.

"I did something stupid. Or maybe I did something very smart and it turned out creating a rather large problem."

"Do tell," she closed the atlas and focused all of her attention on her friend. Harry sighed and started explaining.

"Well, you know those plans I kept making last year, to use the fluctuations in the herbal market to make a huge amount of money?" After seeing her nod he continued: "Well, it worked. It actually worked too well. I earned more than double the sum that I've invested, and my manager hasn't yet completed selling the goods."

"Well, it is a good thing, right?" Hermione asked, confused about why her friend was so down about his wealth multiplying.

"Normally it would be, but ... the thing is, my scheme was focused on the Bloodsucker Oak acorns, which are very expensive due to the danger the collector must face to get them. Most of the acorns in the British market come from the Malfoys – the three oaks that they had on their grounds were what gave them starting capital. Nowadays, however, they have far more profitable businesses, and pay little attention to the acorn sales. The guy who is in charge of that gathering operation caught on that little titbit of info and started selling the acorns off the books on the side. Gradually he grew bolder, and the Malfoys almost stopped getting money from the acorns. I do not know how in heaven and hell the guy managed to get away with this, but he wasn't caught until recently, if at all. Malfoy looked at his books, saw an unprofitable business, and decided to sell it to one Dolores Umbridge, the Undersecretary to the Minister."

"Uh-oh," Hermione muttered, getting into the story that Harry was telling. The boy nodded.

"A little background: despite her being almost universally … disliked, she's very influential in the ministry and has Fudge eating out of her hands and vice-versa. She's a complete and utter bitch, she tried to stick charges to me during the hearing this summer – I still don't get what that was about - and from what I heard, she's a bigot of such a scale it would make little Drakey-poo become green with envy. Nasty piece of work, that one. So, dear old Lucius got her a little almost-present, giving her a seeming gold mine for a symbolic amount of Galleons and her support in passing some bill or something. Naturally, our enterprising foreman got very worried and decided to go all in and sell whatever he could before handing in a resignation and leaving Britain for warmer countries and a villa on the beach," Harry shrugged in a 'what can you do' manner. Hermione listened to his tale, slightly enraptured. When has he become so good in telling stories?

"Originally, I planned on simply making a deal with the head of that particular business, making it seem like all of the oaks were caught in a forest fire, and then sharing the profit from the sales, but after Tearshape – he's my account manager – got wind about the situation, it got much, much easier. The sum that I had to pay to actually buy the acorns was much less than what I'd have to give him as his share under the original plan. In addition, the price of the acorns grew slightly during these months. So, in the end, I'm now significantly richer."

"What's the catch?" Hermione asked. "Is Umbridge going to make problems?"

"Right in one," Harry answered grimly, "She somehow learned about the whole situation, and my, heh, partner in crime is now enjoying a stay in prison. A quick trial behind the closed doors and he's off on the Azkaban Express," he slowly waved his hand in a throwing motion, "I believe she might have used illegal means to obtain the information in the first place. Tearshape said that she's been sniffing around the market, asking who's been selling large amounts of acorns lately. She should know about my involvement already."

"So what does it mean for you?"

"According to the law, I'm sparkling clean, smell pleasantly, and just forgot my nimbus at home – I only bought those things from a guy who assured me he has the right to sell them and I can say that under Veritaserum. Buying the acorns isn't a crime. However, while before she just looked down at me because I'm a half-blood, now she's actively after me. I will have to lay low for the remainder of my Hogwarts years so as not to provoke her overtly, and judging by my past three years it is highly unlikely. Take her relationship with the Minister and the accumulated influence, and it's obvious I'm in deep shit."

"I'm going to the library."

Harry chuckled tiredly as his friend stood up with a determined expression on her face.

"Sit down, it's late evening. Unless you want to break curfew?" the last was said with a wink. Hermione frowned and after a few seconds' thought nodded.

"Go get your cloak. I won't be able to sleep if I don't look up some precedents at least."

Harry was struck speechless with the surprise.

"Harry, come on. I'll go put my things away, you should do the same. Meet you here in five minutes."

With that, she vanished up the stairs to the girl's dorm. Harry shook his head and started gathering his writing accessories, a soft smile on his face and a warm feeling in his chest.

I have great friends.

She really did come with him to the library and they spent a couple of hours browsing through history accounts, searching for any similar occurrences. They didn't find anything, but that didn't discourage Hermione. It was only when Harry pointed out that she wouldn't be able to function normally in the morning if they lingered any longer when she caved in and they returned to the tower to get some sleep. The failure didn't deter Hermione, however – she devoted a couple of hours daily for the next week to plundering through the library in the search for anything that could help Harry. And in the end, she had her answer.

"You're relatively safe for the next two years," she said in a tone of supreme satisfaction, dropping a heavy tome on the table that Harry sat by with a loud 'thump'. "As long as you're a minor, the list of things she can do legally to you is rather limited. The Ministry on the whole can only persecute you in any major way once you have passed your OWLs, and the things they can do to you are also no worse than a slap on the hand."

"Give me the worst cases before and after the OWLs," Harry asked, glancing at the tome before him with some respect.

"Before the exam, they can break your wand and expel you from Hogwarts. After, the top is a couple of years in the low exposure zone of Azkaban."

"Great," Harry grumbled, "and what do I have to do to deserve that?"

"For Azkaban: proven murder. For expelling you, it very much depends. It ranges from a case of underage magic to a major offence of criminal nature."

"Underage magic... I think I will have to be careful this summer," Harry glanced at the rows of bookshelves. "Do you think you could find something on the topic? I'd like to know about this in more detail, and not just because of Umbridge and her possible plots."

The book was easy to find. The facts within were difficult to digest, especially taking into consideration the offensive nature of said facts to Muggleborns, and Hermione's personality of being a fighter for rights. If she lived in the beginning of the century, she'd be a suffragette for sure, Harry thought amusedly, watching his friend rant away. It was rather impressive how she changed the thematic of her passionate speech as she went. While she started from just complaining about the unfair government, it quickly turned into the territory of a giant conspiracy against the Muggleborns. To be fair, the Trace was never about oppressing those not of pure blood, but rather a fruit of the philosophy "if it ain't broke, don't fix it", but the two teens didn't think of that.

"...Those oppressive, ignoble, barbaric Neanderthals! What else did they stick in the proverbial wheels of progress? It is no wonder they still live in the last century! They just stunt the growth of everyone who would object to the existing order of things!"

The Ministry couldn't really detect magic if it was cast in the presence of an adult wizard. The structure of the Trace spell thought the adult presence to be someone who would supervise the youngster and shut itself down until the adult left. The same happened in heavily magical households, where the natural hum of ambient magic was recognised as belonging to an adult.

The natural consequence of this was that the only ones who couldn't do magic were the Muggleborn and those rare people like Harry who weren't living with magical people. This was what sent Hermione off. Harry listened to her rant with amusement and exasperation for a good quarter of an hour before finally intervening when she paused for breath.

"Hermione, I don't think you should react so badly to this. No, hear me out," he put up his hand in a pacifying gesture. "They are oppressing the Muggleborn. Fine. They are ignorant assholes who think that as long as they don't let anyone who could rock the boat earn any power for themselves, they are safe. Very well."

"How can you be so cold? Harry, it is our rights that we're speaking of!"

"I know. Hermione, look at history. Such regimes end one way only – a revolution. Do you want to start it?"

"...If I have to, yes!"

Harry, who was facing the other direction until now, turned to her sharply.

"Really? Do you want to start a bloodbath? Another war? Would you prefer to be known as the Dark Lady Hermione, Hm? Would you like to be the one who starts the machine that turns blood into gold? Would you, Hermione?" he threw each accusation in her face, and every question impacted Hermione like a physical blow. She stared at Harry, opening and closing her mouth like a fish. Finally, she sighed and shook her head.

"No. No, I wouldn't. But what can we do otherwise, Harry?" her voice was tired.

"There is only one true revolution. The revolution of thinking. Gradually, the change will come, with or without our help. It is inevitable. It is evolution. Nothing can truly stand against the progress, Hermione, for all is subject to change."

The girl looked at him with open curiosity.

"Where did you read that?"

Harry adopted an affronted look.

"I'll have you know that I thought this philosophy up from scratch. However, I have read a certain book that helped me in refining my world view. Wait a second," he looked around and determinedly walked to one of the far shelves. After a couple of seconds of searching he grabbed a tome with a rich black and silver cover and gave it to Hermione, who peered at the encrusted name.

"Abraxas Malfoy. 'Wizarding Power'," she threw Harry a questioning look, at which he shrugged.

"Say what you want about that family, but the man knew his stuff. He was Lucius' father and died in the beginning of the war. Rumour said that he was opposed to Voldemort, thinking of him as a dangerous loose cannon that looked only for his own interests. It was after his death that Lucius came into Voldemort's fold. Also, from the subtle hints in the text, he wasn't all that opposed to the Muggleborns, but had heavy issues with the Muggles."

"Who would have thought," Hermione muttered, opening the first page and sitting down.

"Yep."

"Mr. Potter, what exactly was that?" Flitwick wasn't angry, as one could think from his words, but very much amused. Harry was standing a dozen meters from him, legs bent, profile slightly turned so as to present a smaller target. What was strange, however, was that three meters to his left stood another Harry Potter in the exact same pose, just facing the other direction. Both of them had their wands half-raised in the teacher's direction, prepared to shield or hex.

"Uhm... I tried to use an illusion?" Harry offered tentatively. His tutor chortled.

"Tried? No, I think you used an illusion. I'd just congratulate you for somehow stumbling upon a workable strategy of combat, but I have to ask: why did you use this particular spell?"

Harry straightened and rubbed the back of his head with a puzzled expression.

"I came across it in a book and thought it would be handy in a fight."

"Hah! You see, Mr. Potter, in the beginning of my career as a duellist I was heavily employing illusionary charms, as I needed every advantage I could get. One illusion in particular was my absolute favourite due to my... hmm... height issues and the following impossibility to dodge," Flitwick smiled in good humour when Harry's eyes widened. "Yes, 'Mirror Image' is a very, very good spell."

Mirror Image, as its name implied, created a visibly indistinguishable copy of the caster. It did so in four steps. First, it conjured a cloud of smoke that obscured the user. Secondly, it designated a 'mirror', an immaterial surface of symmetry, positioning it following the intent behind the spell. Next the illusion itself was conjured on the other side of said surface. Finally, it synchronised the movements of the illusion with the movements of the caster. It even managed to fire off the same spells. Of course, they were just fakes and wouldn't do anything (the same could be said about the shields). The illusion was rather unstable and would vanish if hit by anything, but it was still useful and had a lot of more higher-tier modifications and analogues.

"Well," Flitwick mused, looking at two boys before him, "I certainly did not think you would use illusions at this point. However, if you feel that you are ready for such material ..."

Both Harry and his twin nodded. The boy was tired of the continuous dodge/shield routine and was ready for something more.

"Very good. I've already taught you flash shields and sustained shields and you know under which circumstances what type to use. I believe I will teach you the third type next year. They are uncommon and rather taxing to use. Now, originally I thought to go over offence, but if you want, we will study illusions instead. What do you say?"

Harry paused and seriously started to think. He seriously needed to improve his spell-work when it came to attacking someone, but illusions were a game-changer. And it is always all about the game-changers.

"How about we do both?"

The small professor shook his head.

"Not possible if you want to have some measure of competence in either. We just don't have enough time to do both. Personally, I recommend focusing on the standard spells and learning illusion in your own time. I will point you at some good spells and books on illusion, but we will focus on them next year, if you so wish."

Harry thought about it for a couple more seconds and slowly nodded.

"Yes, it could work. What are we going to do now?"

The pleasant smile on the half-goblin immediately changed into a scowl.

"Your accuracy is extremely lacking. We will have to correct it. The other point of interest is your speed: it is rather commendable, but it could be better. You have the reflexes and the hand-eye coordination to get both up to a more than decent level. And it is high time they are put into use."

Welcome to the Filius Flitwick Boot Camp. Abandon all hope ye who enter here.

14 of October, morning

Nymphadora Tonks was not panicking. No, she was not. She was an Auror for Merlin's sake! She was the prodigy of the rookie class, the rising star of the academy, a very, very good duellist, a genius of covert infiltration, a protégé of Alastor Moody himself! There shouldn't be anything in the world that would scare her after surviving the tutelage of the crazy one-eyed son of a bitch!

Yet, if she was completely honest with herself, she was currently in the middle of a major freak out.

The morning began as usual, she woke in her guest room in Hogwarts, got up, and after completing all her morning rituals, she stepped outside her room.

That was when the weirdness began. When the door closed, she could feel some sort of magic being activated. She didn't pay this signal any attention, being still sleepy and barely able to think before she had her morning cup of tea. When she reached the more popular corridors, she paused with her mouth still open in a yawn.

People were walking on the ceiling.

They were walking alone, in pairs, they were skipping, talking with each other or determinedly power-walking with all the demeanour of food-seeking warheads, as if not aware of the fact that gravity decided to reverse itself just for the heck of it.

The young Auror, whose hair was currently yellow with green stripes, closed her mouth and slowly blinked. Then she rubbed her eyes. The view in front of her didn't change. Tonks slowly raised her right foot, moved it forward and lowered it on the floor. Nothing.

"What the hell..."

She slowly made her way to the Main Hall, pointedly not looking at the people walking upside down. She wasn't scared, but severely weirded out. Despite her efforts, she was somehow always aware of them and even moved accordingly to the Brownian motion on the ceiling. These facts were nagging at her consciousness for some reason, but she still was shell-shocked from the sheer impossibility of what was happening and wasn't able to think clearly.

When the heavy door to the Great Hall opened before her, she stopped in place, unable to take a step forward.

For some reason it was now her who was standing on the cloud-covered ceiling and the whole school body and the professors were sitting on the tables which were right where they ought to be: namely, the floors. Tonks shut her eyes completely and rubbed them thoroughly before opening them again.

She was still standing upside-down on the ceiling.

Tonks took a deep breath to still the sense of vertigo and started thinking. Either the weirdness around her was reality, in which case she was fucked, or it was not. Was she dreaming? No, it felt much too real to be a dream. Illusion? Possible. In this case...

Finite Incantatem.

The world groaned and warped. After the young Auror blinked, the hall was again as normal as it was possible in a school of magic. She finally was standing on one surface with everyone else. With a smile that was both relieved and bemused she walked over to her place, ignoring the curious stares, and sat down.

The main thought on her mind while she was eating was:

"Who the hell would put such a... weird... illusion on me?"

On the Gryffindor table, Harry smiled mischievously, remembering "Smoke and Mirrors" - the tome he read in the Restricted Section. He liked it so much he even started copying select passages for future reference. It contained instructions on how to create complex illusions of any type from scratch. Take for example the complex illusion that he threw at Tonks for the constant teasing he endured from her each time he was on his way from Flitwick. He enchanted her door so that the spell would activate when she closed it in the morning and hopefully wouldn't be awake enough to take note of the magical discharge. The illusion would make her think that she was the only one walking on the floors. The component of the spell that allowed her to move without walking into someone was a major pain to cast, what with the complex pattern of wand movements required. Then there was the turnaround that was triggered by her entering the Main Hall. After that, the illusion was scripted to change the orientation of the world in a random pattern. The part which Harry liked the most was the emotional controlling part of the spell, ensuring that Tonks wouldn't be afraid through the experience, just freaked out a bit and feeling like Alice in Wonderland.

Yes, the tome was a true treasure. He practically didn't stop grinning the whole time he was reading. The possibilities seemed endless.

The fun is only beginning.

16Th of October, approximately ten kilometres to the north from the Channel Tunnel

Sirius was hungry. He was thirsty, tired and soaked to the bone from the rain that kept pouring down on the countryside, looking to an observer like someone up there turned a giant bucket upside down right on poor Britain. However, despite feeling like a street dog, Sirius was grinning as wide as the structure of his mouth allowed him.

I'm home. Did you miss me?

True, he failed to find Wormtail. Twice he stumbled on the traitor's tail and twice the rat eluded him. Now... now Sirius had to take care of his other duty, the responsibility that he had neglected so far. He was going to meet Harry and tell him everything from the beginning and accept his judgement. But first... first he would have to find a certain stubborn werewolf and enlist his help.