So How Can I Weaponize This? by longherin

(This started as a short story about how nerd weaponizes light. Now it is 'how quickly can we cover the entire Harry Potter series while adding progressively more technology and research into the mix.' Still a stupid story for the sake of stupid stories, though. Received a polish pass on 1/27/2023. No story beats have been changed, just tightening up a few loose bolts.)

Who am I? That's not important.

What am I? A skinny ten year old…I've been downscaled, apparently.

Where am I? Harry Potter Universe!

What do we have? Magic, Muggle Know-how, and reckless ingenuity.

Let's get started.

We do need a name, though.

Uh…hrm.

I'll just go with Ash like usual then.

…

[First Year, Way before TROLL IN DUNGEON]

…

"Hey, Ash?" Harry asks us worriedly.

He's worried because I've done nothing but read and do homework for…what, days on end by now? I've skipped dinner a few times to do it too.

Which, for the record, is extremely unusual behavior for a small child. It's par for the course for a twenty-something though, just replace 'homework' with 'work'.

"Yeah?" I respond absentmindedly as we study the ins and outs of Lumos.

"Why do you like homework so much?" Harry asks, genuinely (and very innocently) worried for my health…not that I blame him, since I out-Hermione'd Hermione for a little bit, and since as it's before Halloween they're not friends yet.

Where is she, anyways?

We're currently in the Gryffindor Common Room, because Main Character Privileges.

"Harry, do you realize where you are?" I ask him…gotta be careful with how I word things.

"Well…yeah, we're in Hogwarts." He responds confusedly.

"Just ignore him." Ron's hostile. "Not trying to be mean, mate, but you're bonkers to like school so much." At least he's not mean because he's a bad person.

I stand and address Ron. "I suppose this would make more sense to us muggles than to you, since you grew up with magic around you, but…" I approach Harry and grip both his shoulders tightly. "Dude, we can use magic."

It should be noted right now that we speak with a very obviously American accent among a cast of English folk, along with a lexicon that's off by about twenty years.

I stare into his eyes. "Like I don't know how to make that point more clear."

"Ok, ok." Harry's uncomfortable with the Americanization of his personal bubble. "Uh…"

I let him go. "Sorry. Just wanted to make my point."

The two of them excuse themselves and head down for dinner, and we can hear Ron going "Are all Americans as rude as he is?"

Ignore him, just like how the rest of the common room is ignoring me.

Back to work.

…

[Some days later, still before TROLL IN DUNGEON]

…

Flying class.

I think this is the part where Malfoy's an asshole and Harry learns to air.

Yes.

Harry learns to air, Malfory learns to air, Neville learns to air and then breaks his arm airing. Air is now no longer a word.

Malfoy steals Neville's Remembrall, challenges Harry to a competition of who can air better, Harry can air better, and Malfoy is salty, as per his brand.

And then he goes on to bother the other Gryffindors on the ground. I get him, kinda. I mean, if we celebrate the never-give-up spirit, it follows that, y'know, losing and then not giving up would naturally develop into salt.

Is that how it works?

Either way, not my problem.

We're standing around reviewing our notes from our Lumos study, which in retrospect was not exactly the best idea given that Malfoy's pretty much the textbook bully villain. Thus, with our head buried deep in our notes, we do not notice anything odd happening until the notes are snatched from our hand.

Alright, now it's my problem.

"Dude, give that back." I hide my right hand from sight and slip the wand tucked up the sleeve into my grip.

Our tone is one of incredible tiredness, of the 'I'm not awake enough for this shit' kind.

Also, which one is he? I mean, they're both pale, stocky, and…uh.

Our mind wanders to that one screenshot of the last movie, where one of the two got recast.

Crabbe! Or Goyle. One of the two.

Said person also mimics me with the stock bully accent. The mocking tone is a little stronger than normal because, as American as my tone is, I do still have a bit of an non-english accent.

I sigh. "Don't be a prick, man."

Malfoy takes the notes and glances at them with a sneer. "What are you doing, bringing homework to class?"

I don't like having my things taken. "I like magic, now fork it over."

Malfoy grins, and makes all the intended physical actions to tear my notes to pieces.

I am ten and thus allowed to make mistakes.

It's not really a mistake if it's premeditated.

Malfoy screams as I Lumos him right in the eyes. Understandably, he drops his notes in the attempt to cover his face.

Would've been kind of bad if he slammed my notes into his face, come to think of it.

Wonderful planning ahead, that.

I am ten and thus allowed to make mistakes.

I sigh and recover my notes. "Learn to take a hint."

Crabbe/Goyle gets his head screwed on straight and rushes at me with a fist, while I am still recovering my notes. It's a good fifteen paces between us and he's not a fast runner.

Lumos is a great flashbang.

BANG! Eeeeeeeeeeeeee

Pity Lumos doesn't make noise. The sudden light makes him jump, and he hits the ground with his face. I hope he's ok.

…Eh, kinda, sorta. He's got a bloody nose and teary eyes but seems otherwise alright.

Aren't we the adult here?

I am ten, yadda yadda. Also, more pragmatically, actions have consequences, and the sooner Malfy learns it, the better.

Yeah, sure, let's go with that.

The professor for flying shows up at this moment and realizes that two of the Slytherins are down, one bleeding, and I have my wand in my hand.

She is understandably angry given that the entire class can vouch for the whole 'I cast spells at them' thing.

My justification. "He stole my things."

"Petty theft is no reason for violence, young man." Madam Hooch (I think that's what her name is) berates us.

We're a little distance from the rest of the class as some other Slytherin escorts Malfoy's group up to the nurse's office.

Not alone enough for me to drop the act, but I can be a little precocious. "I am allowed to defend myself. Second amendment rights."

"Ah." Madam Hooch's eyes rolls into her head. "Right, you're the lad from across the pond. Young man, do realize that you are at Hogwarts, not whatever muggle institution that believes in those things."

"Yeah, but self-defense is always valid." I shrug. "If I get beaten to death and the other guy gets punished for it, that doesn't fix the problem of me being dead." Going waaay out on a limb here.

Hooch…yeah. "Nonsense. Schools are meant to be safe."

I smile. "Yeah, total nonsense. Until it isn't." I don't think there were many shootings in American schools in 1990. Except for the big name ones, anyways.

She can tell I was serious with that last remark. "I certainly see your…conviction." She folds her arms. "However, fighting on the school grounds is still absolutely forbidden."

Not arguing that. "I understand."

Speaks a lot to our experience if school shootings are so prevalent that they can actually get categories.

…

After deliberation, I received two days of detention, and was thus tasked to organize the broom storage. Crabbe/Goyle, by virtue of being the person who first threw the punch, gets docked five points from Slytherin and nothing else. Snape protected him, Hooched protected me.

Understandable: for all the logic of being on the defense, Crabbe and Malfoy were the only ones who took any damage.

I reserve judgment on that. Either way, I got to fly on the brooms after organizing them, so it's not a bad deal.

For the record: I am not Harry, I cannot air very well.

Also Malfoy came for a second round when nobody was looking. There are…better decisions that could've been made.

As a welcoming gift, I lightly bopped his leg with a broom.

Lightly, just like how a house burning to the ground is 'slightly discolored'.

I'm ten. Also, I'm amazed I got away with it.

…

[A few more days before TROLLS IN THE DUNGEON]

…

I can't believe I forgot about the Room of Requirement.

I have now unforgotten about it.

But I've forgotten how to get to it and how to open it.

Dammit.

It's been really long since I've read…was it book six or book five that introduced the room? Plot-wise?

Probably Book five.

So now we're s-wait wait wait it's coming back to me. I need to pace in front of some painting on the seventh floor while trying my hardest not to think about porn.

Got it.

…

Said portrait was eventually found through trial and error.

I just remember it as being one of a knight, and fortunately armored knights are few and far between. Politely asking around also helps.

Let's see…I don't see a suspicious door at the end of the hallway, so nobody's here besides me.

Good.

Pace pace pace…I need a set of prismatic lens and an energy charger…I need a set of prismatic lens and an energy charger…

…There's the door. Really? I'm really surprised it would give it to me.

Now then…wow, the room really knows drama.

The room of requirement this time is a dimly lit room with the prismatic lens and energy charger placed on a pedestal in the middle of the room with a single light shone upon it.

Uh…I don't think the room interpreted my wishes as I thought it did.

It gave a rechargeable AA battery along with some lenses for glasses.

Eeeh…alright, fine, it works. Can I get a cardboard tube?

POP

Ooh, thanks.

We place our hand through the cardboard tube and attach the prismatic lens on the opposite end.

Concave…convex? Concave, I think, since it 'caves' inwards, and I want it as a focus.

Ok…my (right) arm looks stupid. It's literally a giant cardboard tube large enough to cover the arm and wand. It's like I'm trying to roleplay as Samus with a five dollar budget.

Also, I'd like to have some tape.

POP

Er…masking tape, not a tape measure.

POP

Thank ya.

We tape the lens to the cardboard tube.

Ok, let's give this a go.

Lumos!

…

Hrm.

I don't think this is as powerful as I think it is.

Can I have some power amplifiers?

POP. It gave us a bag of potato chips.

I feel like the room is taunting us. By us I mean me, because there's no way the room can recognize that I talk to myself.

POP. A book about insanity appears on the pedestal.

…ok you know what room I don't need your sass

POP. A sash appears on the pedestal.

…Alright, alright. Jesus.

…

What, no Jesus?

Fine.

Back to the task at hand: the Lumos spell is obviously being concentrated by the prismatic lens, but it's definitely not generating the output required for it to actually be a weapon.

What to do…what to do…

I need a stronger core, or I need to be a stronger mage, or I need to be not ten years old. One of the three.

…

I wish for some magic canisters that I can charge and use later.

…

No go. Dammit.

Oh well.

…

Just to be clear: the goal is to use Lumos as the basis for a laser. I'm not quite sure how the school decides what's considered Muggle equipment and what isn't, since almost all Muggle equipment rely on fundamental physics.

Or maybe the spell just stops unshielded equipment from working entirely?

…yeah, or that. I'll need to do some more research…the Librarian doesn't like me too much. On one hand, I'm super polite and bookish, but on the other…very quick to draw wands during conflicts, which is not exactly a welcome trait to see on a ten year old.

All that adds to is a clear reluctance from the librarian to have me visit any part of the library that might contain damage-inducing spells (or spells that could be potentially dangerous), so that hampers my efforts for creating a death laser a bit.

Oh well, live and learn, and all that. Before moving on to other projects, I WILL create a beam of light for the express purpose of besmoting the shit out of my enemies.

Said other projects may or may not end with Voldemort's untimely death in book four at the hands of an ICBM. Also, besmoting is not a word.

I know, I just made it up.

But imagine all the things we can do with the Imperius curse. Up to and including starting world war 3.

I am so ready to out-evil Voldemort.

…

[Day of TROLL IN THE DUNGEON]

…

TROLL IN THE DUNGEON!

The kids panic, and we're sitting here cracking up, because Quirrell is amazing.

I catch Snape's eye and immediately stop grinning. Snape likes me well enough (as much as he could like a Gryffindor) but laughing in the face of a terrifying unknown raises red flags, nevermind that it's a totally acceptable way to deal with pressure.

Uhm…so…let's see…

"Gryffindors this way!" Percy yells over the din and tries (and mostly succeeds) to get the attention of us scared little kids…

Harry wants to go warn Hermione…

Ron tags along…kinda.

So I'm going along.

It takes me a bit: they're both more athletic than me, so it's not until they actually hit the corridor with the supposed troll that I catch up to them.

"What are you doing here?" Ron is unfriendly because, let's be honest, I'm a bit of an uppity asshole. I'm like Percy, except with an utter disdain for authority and a worrying thirst for blood.

So not at all like Percy.

My reasoning: "I'm worried about Hermy." It's as good of a reason as any.

Ron does not believe us.

By nature and by behavior I do not get along with people. There are kids who use me as supplementary material to help them catch up on their classes, because I'm fairly good at explaining things to kids. Point is, I know about Hermione, but only on the 'she exists' kind of thing.

Like looking at a yearbook and understanding that there's a dude in this other class named Tom Ado and he very much likes botany. There's a profile, but no human connection.

Harry frowns at 'Hermy'. I'd frown at Hermy, too.

Ron accepts it, though. "Figures. Bookworms." He rolls his eyes.

"Quiet!" Harry hisses at us. "Can you hear that?"

Let's see…I hear a dull roar.

We're coming up to the bathrooms, so probably…

Yep the TROLL is in the region

"Move!" Harry takes command and we burst onto the scene!

Ok whew we didn't butterfly Hermione to death

She's pretty damn close though. The TROLL ripped off a sink and is using it as a bludgeon. Fortunately, although it had its improvised bludgeon raised, it turned to look at us as we burst in rather than follow through with pasting Hermione into the ground.

"Boy we're cutting it close." I draw my wand and the prismatic equipment.

"Do you actually know a spell that could help?" Ron demands before chucking a piece of ceramic at the TROLL. He glares at the paper tube.

Every time you see the word TROLL, yell it in Quirrell's voice.

"Guess we'll find out." I point my wand. "Lumos!"

I should note that this is the beamer mark two: I swapped to a smaller tube since it only needs to be large enough for the wand. I've also added some straps to it so it can go around my wrist and be stable.

A burst of light shoots from the wand, passes through the prismatic lens, and strikes the TROLL on the head.

Ew.

The beam singes the troll flesh and everybody is momentarily overcome by the incredible stench.

Fuuuuck me. I'm putting more power into the spell at a shorter discharge time, so it's hitting harder, but…the damage is not enough.

The TROLL's attention now turns completely to me, and he…she? I don't wanna know. They turn around to face me with the club of handwashing.

Really should've planned this better.

We raise our wand like an obvious weapon while backing out of the room. Harry and Ron scurry off to our left, under the remaining sinks.

"Stay put, stay quiet." I call out to the three of them as the TROLL tries to understand the threat value of the stick holding the stick in front of him.

Insert trolls are stupid jokes here.

It doesn't move, so that's a problem.

We shoot it with another Lumos.

Now it does. Uh oh

The troll's arm is significantly longer than expected, and while we expected it to step forward and swing, it just swings. Fortunately, its arm is long, and at the apex of its swing it scratches the sink against the ceiling. The sound of chipped china knocks us out of our freeze response.

YIPE

We jump back, and the club shatters on the ground in front of us.

OWOWOWOWOW

Shrapnel hurts.

Alright, fucker, let's do this.

We retreat faster while peppering it with fire.

Come out here so I can kill you good and proper!

The Troll obliges, lumbering its way outside of the bathroom.

I am now realizing that it's real club is outside the bathroom how did I not see that before

Also why does it have NAILS

The Troll picks up the club and immediately tries to sweep with it.

JUMP

It sweeps under us with no issue.

Alright, alright, I need to hit it with something harder or else this shit will never END

It sweeps again, this time at our head. We duck just fine, but this one is close enough for the nail to barely scratch our left arm.

Aaaaaaaaaaa that stings

There's a red, intermittent gash running from our wrist down to the elbow.

Better my arm than my head.

I don't have time to really think and I can't quite retreat. Now what.

…?

There are like three variants of the Lumos spell, no?

If we take the movies to be canon, sure: there's the default spell, the one Hermione uses on the gropey plants, and the one Harry uses at the beginning of the third movie. There are probably others but we stopped paying attention around that time.

So it should be possible to alter the firepower of our spell via using an extended chant.

I don't have the time to figure out an alternative. Keep firing!

…

Ultimately, I keep it busy enough until the troll tries an overhead swing, and then…Ron? Somebody on the inside levitates the club and bops it on the head.

It was Ron.

The club is a lot of things, but incredibly heavy is not one of them, so the troll is just disoriented. But its disorientation moves it away from the bathroom entrance enough for the three of them to ditch the bathroom and disengage.

Since they disengaged, I have no reason to stick around either, so I bail too. We make it about halfway down the hallway before the teachers arrive. The TROLL gets his senses back too, but now Dumbledore is here and just calmly but firmly asks/commands the TROLL to get.

Ten points to Dumbledore.

Ultimately, we're docked five points each and rewarded ten for sheer dumb luck. I get an extra ten from Flitwick for exceptional spellwork, though I don't know how he could tell.

Maybe it was the scorch marks.

Or the smell.