The Aftermath

Chapter 25

Nothing too interesting had happened and it was now Friday night. Harry found himself reasonably richer after collecting both he and Draco's winnings from divination. He was also subsequently banned from the games after winning three straight weeks. IN all fairness he did almost lose considering the last run ran for two weeks but his lead was just too great. Seamus was singing more. Mostly to himself randomly when he studied. He'd been doing it so frequently that Harry sometimes sang with him even though his voice wasn't nearly as good, and he had no clue what the words meant.

Tonight, the two were reading up on angel and phoenix folklore. They'd studied real history Thursday so they were focusing on fiction. Harry thought that interchanging would stop them from going crazy and alleviate the feeling of the work feeling like work. So far nothing interesting had come up but that was about to change.

"This name seems familiar," Harry said to himself.

"What's the name?"

"Terpot," Isn't that the author of the book. Perotha, Terpot. Odd sounding name. Possibly female it seems." Seamus called Lilly and sent a message with the name to the others.

"What's the story about?"

"Well, that gets even more interesting. Apparently, it's about a phoenix being hunted for her feathers who runs away to a foreign land and magicking all other phoenixes to safety with her. But they forget how to come back home the human world suffers because of the magical powers the phoenixes took with them. Seriously why can't fairytales every have happy endings? So much doom and gloom. The modern-day ones, or adaptions, are fluffy nonsense but you at least you don't have to enter into the darkness to enjoy them."

"Always so dramatic Harry. Besides overreacting is my job." Harry laughed and filed the book under extremely important. It was too similar to what happened to his own ancestor to ignore. Minus the world going into darkness and forgetting the way home that is. Seamus was finding all the information on angels boring and overhyped. They were viewed almost the same way humans saw them. Boring mystical deities who did nothing but the bidding of their creator and apparently there was no real proof of their existence. Rather suspect considering the mountains of evidence about Demons and Seamus was sure it was true albeit onesided.

"They treat angles like they are wimpy bearers of light. I can confirm this is nonsense. So what gives? At least Phoenix history is cool. And the fables aren't full of over overhyped holy diety nonsense. They should be warriors not fucking pansies who happen to have ultimate power. Who always speak in soft yet powerful tones and apparently never do anything wrong. This is ridiculous."

Harry couldn't help but laugh. He chucked it up to little guy syndrome. Seamus was always larger than life and everyone knew it was because he was so small he felt the need to make his presence known. He'd only ever admitted this to Dean that one time that fateful Hogsmeade weekend. Now here he was on the verge of greatness and could find nothing interesting. Nothing but modest calm, never stepping out of line acceptance. Definitely not larger than life enough for him.

"It's okay little guy. I'm sure being the herald of goodness will suit you just fine." The look Seamus gave him probably could've killed a thousand men. It took everything Harry had not to laugh. "What? Speaking in singsong and only using your powers to direct and meddle and never actually do the dirty work doesn't appeal to you?" Harry said with a straight face. He was selling the fakeness hard.

"I hate you."

"Come on. You already sing. I'm sure speaking in sing-songy tones would be perfect for you. Like perfect for you." On the repeat, he hit the perfect pitch of what sing-speaking would be like.

"Stop mocking me. I'm great. You'll see!"

"Sure. Sure. Great at being demure and subdued."

"Stop talking to me or I'll hex you into next year! You want to see what I can do? I'll show you."