Harry Potter Short Stories

That time Lucius Malfoy went back to fix it and dragged Harry along 4-5

4

The trainers taunted Harry, white and crispy-laced. It was a perfectly nice pair, sturdy and pleasing to the eye, almost new but worn out just enough to be absolutely comfortable. They were also Harry's exact size. Not his current one, which would be, Harry supposed, too easy, but the size he had since turning sixteen. No matter how many times he transfigured the holey Nikes that had been passed from Dudley to Harry after Aunt Marge's dog chewed on them, they ended up his old adult size.

Hedwig's hoot sounded suspiciously like a laugh from where she perched on a stack of cauldrons. The room doubled as storage space and was still cluttered even after Snape shrank most of the boxes and banished a suspicious-looking apparatus that had pinged Harry's Auror senses. All while reciting a long list of threats that would befall Harry should he dare enter his bedroom or lab that was only interrupted by Dumbledore's Patronus demanding to know what was going on.

Behind a double layer of Muffliato around the fireplace, Snape was able to work his spy magic on the Headmaster faster than it was taking Harry to work his on a much easier target. Perhaps the trainers had absorbed the magic-hating sentiment of their previous owner? Harry took a deep breath and cast the shrinking spell again.

The trainers stubbornly stayed the same.

"For fuck's sake!" Frustration welled in him with an intensity he did not quite expect.

Light flashed from his wand, unbidden, and a pair of glass slippers, complete with high heels and crystal bows, stood on the rug in place of the trainers.

At least these seemed to be the right size.

"Going to a ball?" Snape's voice sounded almost amused from the doorway. "I'm afraid I'm out of pumpkins, and I would never trust my lab mice to your transfiguration skills."

Harry glowered at the T-shirt and jeans spread out on the narrow bed. With his luck, they would revert to Dudley's hand-me-downs at midnight. Which would be a real shame, considering how much time he had spent making sure the sleeves aligned.

"Need I remind you that underage students are forbidden from using magic outside the school, Potter?"

"I'm in an adult wizard's residence, so the Ministry has no way to tell."

"Flouting the rules as usual?"

"Again, I'm not actually a child, Professor. With everything we need to do, I must have my magic."

"Not if you are going to be a danger to yourself and others."

"I've got it under control."

Snape pointedly looked at the glass slippers. Then he frowned. "Perform a N.E.W.T. level non-offensive spell that won't do further damage to this room."

Harry shifted on his sock-clad feet and pointed his wand at himself.

"Or to yourself," Snape added. Idiot remained unsaid but heavily implied.

The Disillusionment Charm died on Harry's lips. Grudgingly, he had to admit that Snape was right. He did not want to end up invisible with no way to revert it because his magic refused to cooperate. As usual when in doubt, he decided to summon his Patronus. That one never betrayed him.

Sifting through the happy memories he usually used, he found them all to be tinged with a bittersweet feeling of loss. It had not quite sunk in that he would never see his versions of his friends again until he remembered the joy at seeing Hermione awake at the end of the second year, the relief after Ron came back during their Horcrux hunt, the contentment at standing as a best man at their wedding. Letting go of these moments, he focused instead on the knowledge that he was sparing his loved ones so much suffering to have the future they deserved. This thought was not quite happy, but it had to be enough.