Flitwick released me from his care after we were back in his office and allowed me to go wherever I wanted before I would attend dinner in the Great Hall for the first time since the attack.
Yet, as I walked the halls with my new wand in my palm instead of in a holster just because of my paranoia, I pondered the changes in me since the attack.
The eye behind the blindfold should be, well, blind. Instead, I saw faint, colored outlines where there should be people and magically powerful items.
It worked on the wizards and witches around me. It worked with the goblins at Gringotts, and it worked with owls flying past me. My new wand, in particular, was a unique golden color. However, the coloring was usually so faint, I was beginning to think I had this ability long before the attack. I just never noticed with my regular vision intact. Concentrating on it made the colors pop out a lot more, though.
The colors went from white or grey for most people and items to green for people like Madam Pomfrey or Professor Flitwick. Most goblins at Gringotts earlier that day were a faint orange, while a select few were a very faint green or simple grey.
I could tell friend from foe with this ability. I figured out that much the moment I saw Marcus Flint enter the infirmary on Friday on a bogus injury he received during Quidditch practice. Different from everyone else, the boy who kept giving me gloating glances from time to time was a glaring blood red - the most intense color I had seen before I held my repaired wand.
I was reserving judgment for when I met actual enemies in combat, but I was pretty sold on the idea that Marcus Flint was actively antagonistic to me - likely even a part of the ones to attack me.
It pretty much felt like the ability of a video game, though since I woke up with only memories from Harry Potter and nothing else, my poor upbringing in the orphanage did not actually allow me to play those video games. I only heard about them from kids at the library or through windowshopping. So I had no idea which video games had an ability like this.
'What did the gold hue around my own wand mean then? Important items critical to my wellbeing or something along those lines? Since I'm already thinking in games... quest items? Story items? Ugh, too complicated. Let's just leave it at 'important to me' and try to find other golden items to find a common factor...'
""Talion!""
A group of girls surrounded me as Hermione, Sue, Mandy, and Padma almost tackled me in a group hug. Being around people was nice even if the hug kind of hurt. And my heart was at ease because all four girls had a bright green outline in my blinded eye.
"Hey everyone, why are you here?"
"What do you mean why are we here? Where were you? Madam Pomfrey kept telling us to come on another day, but today, she told us you were out and would come back later! We searched for you everywhere until we heard Professor McGonagall tell Harry that Professor Flitwick took you to Diagon Alley!"
"Should have just faked an injury like Marcus Flint, but I guess you aren't cunning enough," I quipped with a chuckle. "So you came here on the off chance you'd meet me after an outing?"
"Of course," Hermione exclaimed with her head resting on the side of my shoulder. "What happened? Are you still hurting? Did you really lose your pouch and all your belongings?"
"Yeah, someone attacked me when I came out of the dungeons after a visit to the kitchens. My pouch and wand were destroyed, none of the stuff in the pouch survived..."
"Who would do something like that?" Padma whispered with a frown.
"You're still bandaged? It's been days, and you still aren't fine?"
"Didn't you see him stagger while walking just now? Clearly, he isn't fine yet," Sue chastised Mandy for asking such an 'insensitive' thing.
"Nobody was found responsible. The aurors weren't allowed to investigate fully, and our headmaster said it wasn't for us to know who did it. Professor Flitwick has his suspicions, but nobody was arrested or got expelled or anything."
"Expelled? I know losing stuff is bitter, and you got hurt, but why'd you think they should have been expelled?" Mandy asked, apparently sensing that there was something I didn't share yet.
"Well, expelled isn't truly what I wanted since I became target practice for the Crucio curse after I was burned..."
The girls gasped with horrified expressions, and I kind of regretted telling them any more details despite my wish to tarnish the image of the illustrious Dumbledore inside their minds. Hermione gingerly lifted my bandaged hand with a distraught look and seemed to make up her mind about something.
"I read about that unforgivable curse. It's nerve damage then, isn't it?"
I nodded to answer her question.
"Do you want me to take notes in class for you?" Hermione asked, and at least Sue and Mandy in my vision looked like they had wanted to ask the same. Padma was kind of in a dead angle with only one working eye. "No, wait! Notes! I handed in your assignment since you couldn't. You didn't take it back when you left the library that day, and I... I still have your mother's notes for Charms and Transfiguration."
"Transfiguration, too?"
"Yeah, sorry," Hermione answered with a sheepish smile as she blushed and looked down.
"Sorry? I thought I lost them all! This is amazing news!" I shouted and patted her head with my good hand and a grin on my face.
"Dinner is still a bit away, and I don't wanna go up and down all these stairs with my wonky legs. Will you keep me company in the courtyard outside the Great Hall? I want to bask in the sun a little."
The girls all agreed eagerly, and we made our way downstairs to the groundfloor in a steady fashion as I answered any and all questions they had about the encounter and the aftermath.
Hermione and Mandy seemed particularly interested in the healing part and the healer from St Mungo, who came to give me the bandage for my hand, while Sue was enchanted with my cool new, unique-looking wand.
Lavender and Parvati joined shortly after when they heard from some upper years that I had resurfaced, and both girls cried on my shoulder. I got why Lavender did it, but I kind of figured that Parvati did it so Lavender's outburst wouldn't be so obviously different. She was a truly great friend who made me question whether it was truly necessary to hide my budding relationship with Lavender.
There were a few Slytherin students who gave me curious looks in the courtyard, but none of them appeared the same blood red that Marcus Flint's outline showed in my new eyesight. That changed once we entered the Great Hall for dinner, and many of the older boys at the snake's table had an orange outline while three appeared regular red: Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. Additionally, there were four older students close to the three with the same blood red hue Flint had.
Curious.
I didn't stare, not even at Gemma, who looked at me with an uncomfortable look that I couldn't place. Interestingly enough, a quick look toward the Gryffindor table revealed some more orange outlines, and to my surprise, Tonks was among them.
'I know she wasn't feeling me, but why is she orange? Was she somehow involved in the attack or something? Like giving those cunts my location or something? Ugh, who cares. Just stay away from her and focus on those Slyther- Wait! Why are the Weasley twins golden?'
I shook my head and looked toward my roommate sitting next to me as he had arrived before the girls and I. Golden color, too. It wasn't surprising in all honesty. Despite the changes to the original plot, Harry was the protagonist. Nobody could take that away from him, not even me with my 'third child of the prophecy identity'. Well, not that I wanted to take it. Let him deal with Dumbledore and Voldemort on the surface while taking the heat. I'll be the protagonist of my own life.
'Wait, let him take the heat? I was literally tortured, even when I was unconcious...'
I shook my head again and Harry started looking at me weirdly.
"Pardon?"
Harry lifted a brow and once more asked, "How are you? Professor Flitwick didn't say much."
"I'll get there. I'll tell you more back in our room, if you care to hear it."
Harry gained a solemn expression and nodded, "Of course."
-----
Back in our room after it took me way too long to go up the stairs, Harry handed me three envelopes and sat on his bed.
I told Harry a little of the wounds I received from the attack and how Dumbledore hindered the investigation to give my partner in crime a little to work with to fill out the blanks on his own. Maybe he could see another angle to this assault and what happened after that I couldn't.
We also discussed Flitwick's involvement and his increasingly stable position as an ally to the two of us. Later on, Harry filled me in on everything I missed despite Hermione already doing a quick recap of the week down in the courtyard.
As Harry got ready for bed when we finished everything we wanted to talk about deep into the night, I opened the three letters I received that Flitwick gave Harry for safekeeping.
The first was from Bella Farley, Gemma's mother. She asked about my upbringing and if we could meet during the first Hogsmeade weekend happening in two weeks. I once more thanked and cursed the orphanage matron in my mind for her fear of lefthanded people that resulted in me being ambidextrous as I penned a reply with my slightly shaking right hand that I would later give to Harry since he told me his Hedwig would be glad to send letters for me so she would feel useful.
'Quilled? No, it was still 'penned', I think. Also, I really should get a pet, shouldn't I? Harry speaks of his Hedwig like I imagine some people talk about a child...'
The second letter was something I received from Patrick, who hadn't heard from me. It was about Spudmore accepting the 'second deal', which meant I wasn't imagining things when 8.000 galleons were missing in my vault earlier today.
The second deal meant I would be getting the Firebolt 0003 - likely even with the rosewood handle to match my first wand instead of the... was it pine for a regular Firebolt? I know the stick itself was ebony, and the twigs were... well, drawing another blank.
Additionally, I would receive a maximum of 20.000 galleons in profit from his sales at 8% of the profit from the brooms sold, which was when my stake in and claim on his business was finished. I had no memories of how expensive the broom actually was, so I had to imagine it was around 600-900 galleons since the Nimbus 2000 came with a price tag of 450 galleons in Diagon Alley last I checked.
If that was the case, Spudmore needed to create or sell somewhere around 100 to 150 Firebolts before I got my investment back and somewhere around an additional 200 to 400 before the limit was reached.
I knew he had it in him to make a thousand brooms over the years in the best case scenario unless something extraordinary happened, and I hoped me naming a limit left a favorable impression in Spudmore's mind. If the firebolt was truly as revolutionary as canon portrayed it to be, I was keen to get a headstart in whatever broom Spudmore would create next.
And unless he hires a horde of enchanters to create thousands upon thousands of brooms that also all had to sell, I was sure I would get my money's worth and lose close to nothing in either scenario.
In any case, Patrick did a stellar job because he even had the contract magically notorized... whatever that meant. A headache for another day.
Then, there was the third letter from Amelia Bones. She apologized profusely for not being able to do more, but invited me to spend some time at her home during the summer to peruse her library and maybe even get some practice in with the aurors-in-training. To appease my inner Ravenclaw and make up for the knowledge lost with my mother's notes as well as strengthening my foundation. Additionally, she informed me that Susan had a book that I should ask for from her that would help me learn magical self-defense.
'A self-defense book from one of the only witches going toe to toe with Voldemort in canon? Even if we didn't learn much about the actual battle except for the outcome... Sweet! And I guess she didn't send me a copy so that I would spend some time with Susan? Very sly, Amelia.'
"Hey, you know what?" Harry asked as he entered the room with wet, messy hair after washing up.
"What?"
"You never named your dare after being right about the elves. They've been a huge help to me, so you earned it."
I looked toward Harry and decided to go ahead with my mental idea that would result in either nothing or Harry getting traumatized in public by killing someone for the first time and openly to boot. Or something in between. I knew I shouldn't since it could heavily strain our relationship or break it entirely, but I was out of mercy and a scarred, hormonal teenager.
"Yeah, true. I dare you to slap Professor Quirrel."
The boy-who-lived looked at me like I grew a second head before slowly snapping out of it to ask, "Wait... what?"
"Yeah, I dare you to slap our DADA professor. You can decide how to do it. Give him a pat on the shoulder, and I'll consider it done. Or you slap him on the butt for some weird reason. You could also outright backhand him like a little bitch, I don't care."
I took a whole minute to fully compute my dare before Harry looked at me weirdly once more.
"Is this because you noticed I disliked physical contact?"
"What? No! What? I know why that is and I'm not a therapist to help you trough the trauma. It's because I hate being taught by someone who's clearly acting like a stuttering moron for some weird reason and while I know I said I don't care what you consider a slap, I do want to see someone slap him. But since you have that aversion to physical touch, you could always do it over the clothes. I'm not a monster."
"I'll see what I can do," Harry whispered with a weirded out expression and stopped talking to me for the day.
'So he noticed Quirrel's stutter was fake, too? Or did he gloss over that little detail because of my weird dare?'
I decided to hand my letter for Hedwig to him tomorrow and went to the bathroom to get ready for bed myself.
'He slaps Quirrel on the shoulder and nothing happens. He backhands him in that chamber with the Mirror of the Erised as Quirrelmort holds him in front of the mirror and boom, game over. But boy am I hoping he could do it before. That fake stuttering is so incredibly grating to the ears! At least look up how people actually stutter, namely at the start of sentences not every second or third word randomly - you moron!'
I eventually laid down in bed, annoyed at the itchy bandage on my left hand and stomach and a lightbulb lit up in my head.
'That's right, Halloween! If Quirrel faints after warning us about the trolls... do I steer Harry into doing it then? Nah, let it happen without my involvement. He'll hate me for it if I actively control him to do something. If Quirrel does die that day, I could claim innocence, but if I nudge him forward and Harry has a valid reason to hate me.'