Little Lord Peverell And Those Who Confused

Chapter 8

Normally, Harry was the type of person who always faced and solved the problems he encountered. But this time was different. Even when he received the results of his two exams with Outstanding scores for both, and was officially exempted from studying Astronomy and History, his life still didn't get much freer. Turned out, being a lord of a house was not simply opening a few stores or checking a few papers. It was a real responsibility, and Harry couldn't ignore it.

So yeah, Harry didn't have time to care about the thing with the Potters. Not when he was dealing with a deadly crisis. Apparently, some fuckers decided that it was a good idea to steal two entire Peverell family kiosk right at the cruise dock. Well, on of that was his daily supply of good shower gel and shampoo, along with luxurious perfumes from France. Dear Merlin, can a pretty boy comfortably beautify himself without worry in this fucking country?

And not to mention those French aristocrats were acting extra pompous and assuming they were above the Peverell just because the store manager Harry chose was a not so handsome thirty something man. Maybe Harry was too confident, as he built a plan without thinking about force majeure situations. But well, it happened, and the best he could do was try to fix it no matter what, even by force.

The ministry was being extra useless, and failed to provide any help or any information. Harry should have known that he shouldn't rely on anyone but himself. And he was trying his best to control his anger and not burn down the ministry.

And it didn't get any better when it was Halloween, and Hogwarts was decorated with ugly, monstrous things. Like, who the fuck thought it would be a good idea to use the skulls as lanterns? The whole place was tacky, tasteless, and looked like a shit show that deserved to be buried in hell.

As he walked down the hallway, those ugly decorations annoyed him even more. Oh and those fucking ghosts keep flying around uncontrollably and making stupid kids scream in fear. That was stupid, and jarring. You study magic and you're afraid of ghosts? Like, the fuck?

"Caught a firstie skipping class!"

Just as his mood was not good, Peeves the fucking poltergeist had the audacity to suddenly appear in front of Harry, point at him, and laugh as if Harry looked weird.

"And he's not wearing a uniform!"

Harry's eyes narrowed, he put his hands on his hips. Yes, he skipped school for two days, and he wasn't wearing his uniform. In this situation where he was mentally unstable, Harry didn't want to torture himself with that boring school robe. Instead, he was wearing a fancy fur coat, and sunglasses to hide his slightly dark eyes from not sleeping for two days in a row. And this fucking poltergeist... how dare he!

So Harry raised his middle finger, and smiled.

"Go kill yourself, Peeves."

"Oh, the little faggot is cranky today!" This Peeves, for some reason, thought it was a good idea to dance around Harry while continuing to annoy him with words. He didn't even realize when Harry's fingernails had dug into his palm. "And you silly little faggot, Peeves can't die, he's a poltergeist!"

"Oh... really?"

Well, one needed to learn.

Suddenly, and no one knew how, but in the blink of an eye, Harry Peverell's right hand was on Peeves' neck. The boy was small, and so was his hand, but it had an unusually strong grip. The poor poltergeist, who just a moment ago was happily dancing, was now locked, unable to move, and could only scream in pain.

"I didn't know that ghost or poltergeist could feel pain, it was certainly interesting to know."

"I'm sorry! Sorry! Sorry! Ahhhhh!!!"