HP/LOTM: Hogwart's Mind Dragon

Inside Professor Dumbledore's office, he beckoned for Aiden and Snape to sit.

"Oh, Aiden," the headmaster began, his eyes twinkling as he skillfully changed the subject, "after a summer apart, you seem to have invented something quite remarkable."

"Yes, Professor," Aiden replied modestly. "A copy of the magic and the wand designs has been sent to you. Do you have any comments?"

"Well," Dumbledore mused, "in terms of the magic itself, it would normally take an ordinary wizard a long period of accumulation to even knock on the door of the mind. As for the wands, that is a minor issue. Wizards who reach such a level rarely worry about the cost of a few Galleons." He suddenly leaned forward, his old but still firm gaze fixed on Aiden. "But you have other methods, do you not?"

"Yes, Professor," Aiden confirmed. "The intrinsic power of the Nauthiz (ᚾ) rune, combined with the Dueling Association, allows a wizard to carve their own anchor into the Distorted Illusion. This bypasses the need for mental accumulation and allows them to access it ahead of schedule."

"A fine method indeed," Dumbledore said with a smile. "Have you considered staying at Hogwarts to teach in the future? I could create a special course just for you."

After a few more pleasantries, seeing that the tension between his two companions had dissipated, Dumbledore returned to the matter at hand. "So," he asked calmly, "what could have possibly caused a professor to nearly duel with a student on school grounds?"

Snape complained first. "This boy flouts school rules and openly uses magic to attack his classmates. I suggest he be confined to my office for the entire school year!"

"Professor," Aiden said, leisurely taking a sip of tea, "we can all perform Legilimency here, so let's not waste time with these empty theatrics. Do you need me to show you my memories?"

"Hmph," Snape grunted, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Now, Severus," Dumbledore said gently, winking at Aiden from a corner Snape couldn't see. "We all know that young wizards are bound to get a little hot-headed, especially when it's for family. What we need to do now is quell this brawl as quickly as possible. Confining the initial ringleaders should be enough."

"And what of our talented Mr. Prewett?" Snape sneered, glancing at Aiden.

"Hmm, let me think," Dumbledore said, stroking his long beard. "Let Mr. Prewett come to my office for detention and assist me with my affairs."

"Hmph." Snape gave a final cold snort and swept out of the office.

"Aiden, I apologize on your behalf for Severus," Dumbledore began. "You know, the Slytherins are more..."

"It's alright, Professor, I know," Aiden said, standing up. "If there's nothing else, I'll be leaving."

"Leave? Go where?" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled again. "You still have to serve your detention here with me, do you not?"

Aiden just stared. "..."

"So it starts today? And this isn't really detention at all, is it? You're just too lazy to deal with school matters yourself." Aiden rolled his eyes.

"Now, now, look at what you're saying," Dumbledore chuckled. "I'm just letting you get familiar with school affairs. This old man would never harm you."

By the time Aiden finished his "detention" and left the office, it was almost curfew. On the other side of the castle, Harry, Hermione, and Ron had been playing at Hagrid's and had completely forgotten the time.

"Hurry, Harry, it's almost curfew!" Ron whispered, taking the lead as they dashed through the corridors. But it was too late; the curfew bell began to ring.

"Oh, this is terrible," Hermione said dejectedly. "We're out after hours."

"It's okay," Harry shrugged. "It's not the first time, anyway."

"Meow!" Mrs. Norris's cry echoed from behind them, her red eyes glowing in the dark.

"Run!" Harry shouted.

The noise attracted the attention of Argus Filch, who came running. A tense chase scene began.

"Peeves! Go help them!" a ghostly figure suddenly appeared. It was Nearly Headless Nick.

"Hmph, alright," the poltergeist cackled. "But you have to cover for me the next time I play a prank."

"Agreed," Sir Nick replied readily.

Peeves swooped down, pelting Filch with water balloons. "Silly Filch, come and catch me!" he sang.

"You damned Peeves!" Filch cursed, changing direction to chase after him.

"Oh, Sir Nick, thank you for your help," Hermione said gratefully.

"It's nothing," the ghost replied with a flourish. "It's my duty to provide some insignificant assistance to the younger generation of Gryffindor. Oh, and by the way, might I invite you all to my Deathday Party on Halloween?" A glimmer of cunning appeared in Sir Nick's spectral eyes; his help, it seemed, was not without a price.

"Of course, we'll be there," Harry agreed, feeling that Sir Nick was a truly righteous ghost.

Meanwhile, on the sixth floor, Aiden was walking through the corridor when he saw Filch chasing Peeves toward him. Frowning, he used his psychological invisibility to hide in the blind spot of their consciousness. He passed by them, unnoticed.

Peeves, cackling madly, was evading Filch's grasp while throwing water balloons. As luck would have it, one stray water balloon sailed past its intended target and hit Aiden squarely. The magical splash of the prank item was enough to drag him out of his invisible state.

The three of them—Aiden, Filch, and Peeves—froze. An awkward silence fell.

"Aha!" Filch crowed, his eyes lighting up. "Look what I've found! A little wizard wandering around at night!" He immediately stepped forward to grab Aiden.

"Mr. Filch," Aiden explained calmly, "I have just been released from detention in the headmaster's office. If you have any objections, you can take them up with him."

Filch stared at him for a long moment, then, muttering curses under his breath, began to walk away. Suddenly, an owl flew in through a nearby window and dropped a letter. Filch was momentarily distracted, and the letter flew directly into Aiden's hands. Aiden's gossipy nature got the better of him, and he glanced at the envelope. It was an advertisement for a course called Kwikspell.

"Oh," Aiden mused aloud. "It seems even the wizarding world has training institutions that make money off remedial education."

"Give that to me!" Filch snarled, snatching the letter. "And don't you tell anyone," he threatened, staring at Aiden with pure malice.

Aiden's eyes curved into beautiful crescents, his heterochromatic pupils dazzling in the dim light. "So, Mr. Argus Filch," he said, his voice soft and low, "you seem to be very keen on using magic."

Aiden's words struck Filch's oldest and deepest wound. The caretaker became flustered, a mixture of anger and embarrassment on his face. "Yes! So what if I am? What's wrong with wanting to use magic? Why was I born into this world, only to have the door to its wonders slammed in my face? Why?!"

Filch's pained roar did not deter Aiden. He continued, his voice smooth and pleasant, like a devil tempting Adam with the forbidden fruit. "Well then, why not let me study it?"

"Study... what?" Filch's eyes became a little unfocused.

"You"

***********

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