Bag of Depravity
patreon
Professor Potter: Chapter 15
🕑 Added 2025-02-21 02:37:57 +0000 UTCChapter 15
Honeymoon Phase
A perfect ordinary, absolutely Muggle hallway busted with activity. Cardboard boxes were stacked high next to an open door. It was the morning, and already a few of the neighbors had poked their heads out to see what the commotion was. They found a young man and woman, recently married, carrying things into their new apartment. Smiling at the display of youth, the neighbors soon went back to their daily business.
“What do you think all of this is for?” Hestia asked Harry as she tugged on a box. When it refused to come off the ground, her lips curved down poutily.
“It’s our cover, I imagine,” Harry said. “Personal effects and that. Things our friends prepared so the place wouldn’t look empty, in case anyone came over.”
By friends he meant the Order of course. It was common practice for Aurors going into the field to have props built for them. Staying undercover required blending in, and nothing would get you exposed faster than staying in an empty, hollow house. Alastor Moody was a legend for multiple reasons, but among them, he was one of the best there ever was at creating props to build a cover story. Harry was sure he had a hand in this.
“I understand,” Hestia said, continuing to tug at the troublesome box. “But did they really have to give us so much to deal with?”
Her hands slipped off the corners, and she stumbled back, the box remaining firmly on the top of its pile. Growling, Hestia grabbed her wand.
“Wait—!” Harry said.
The box levitated into the air. Hestia grinned triumphantly… until the lights flickered overhead.
The artificial bulbs flashed like strobes with a loud electric whine. After brightening and dimming a couple of times, they went completely dark. Harry jumped forward, dropping what he had been carrying in order to get his arms under the floating box, just as the door behind them opened.
It was the woman who lived across the hall. She was an ordinary Muggle, with graying hair and a fluffy bathrobe. She looked at Harry and Hestia, then up at the burned-out light above their heads. It was the only dark patch in the entire hallway.
“Sorry Miss!” Harry said. “The lights went out, and it startled my wife, who was carrying some boxes inside…”
The woman peered at him… and smiled.
“Aren’t they just terrible,” she said. “They keep doing that! We’ve been having the nastiest outages for the last few weeks, but the repairmen insist there’s nothing wrong!”
Hestia, who had stashed her wand again, hurried forward and engaged the woman in conversation. She was named Mrs. Robinson, had lived there for thirty years, and had two sons who worked as plumbers, one in Wolverhampton and the other in Newcastle. Harry caught all of this as he continued moving things into their temporary apartment. He was starting to see why Hestia was picked for this mission. She had a natural gift for keeping people talking. In addition to the unimportant details she got out of Mrs. Robinson, there were a few important nuggets. Like the fact that Oscar Smith moved in a year ago, stopped waving back a month ago whenever you passed him in the hall, and had a dog that went against building policy, but no one ever seemed to report him.
Mrs. Robinson clammed up quickly when a young man suddenly walked around the corner. He had sandy blond hair, freckles, and a nose that was long enough to attract attention. He didn’t spare a glance for new neighbors moving into the apartment directly next to his. He walked by as if they didn’t exist.
“Hey—” Hestia said with a bright smile.
His apartment door shut in her face, leaving Hestia smiling at nothing but polished wood, her hand extended in a wave.
“Rude boy.” Mrs. Robinson sniffed. “And I used to think he was alright!”
Not long later, Mrs. Robinson returned to her apartment, while Hestia went back to helping Harry, the lights above them still burnt out.
“Sorry,” she whispered, glancing at the damage her spell had done.
“Use it as a lesson,” Harry said. “In the Muggle world, electricity is everywhere. It doesn’t mix with magic. Wands are a last resort only, so you have to manage chores without one.”
“Will do,” Hestia said, determination filling her eyes.
Perhaps such serious declarations took a lot out of her, because immediately after, her stomach growled. Harry laughed as she blushed a bright pink.
“Come on,” he said. “I’ve just about got the kitchen together.”
The apartment was fully furnished. While Hestia unpacked boxes of knick-knacks and falsified Muggle photographs, Harry set to work in the kitchen, cracking eggs and plugging in the toaster.
As Harry poured eggs into a sizzling pan, sounds wafted through the wall. He and Hestia looked over.
“Uwaaaaaa! Uwaaa! Waaaaaaaaa!”
“A baby?” said Hestia.
“Sounds like it,” said Harry.
“Was Oscar a dad?”
“It wasn’t in the briefing,” he said. “But he could be babysitting. You never know.”
The crying only went on a little bit longer before quieting. Hestia finished hanging photographs and chose to wander over, watching Harry work.
“You're good at that!” she said.
Harry smiled softly. “I learned young.”
He shifted the pan in his hand, making sure the eggs would cook evenly. As Hestia approached, leaning over his shoulder to watch, there was a sudden popping noise.
Hestia shrieked and jumped back, jabbing her finger at where two golden slices of bread had popped into sight.
“W-W-Wandless magic!” she accused. “How did you do that?”
Harry smiled patiently, trying to hide his laughter.
“That’s called a toaster,” he said.
“It made the bread fly!”
“It does,” Harry said. “That’s how you know it’s done.”
Hestia stood up slowly. She got close to the toaster, turning her head back and forth, although she kept flinching like she thought it might attack. Harry was reminded of a house cat. Hestia gave a few deep sniffs. Finally, she looked back at him, still leaning over the toaster with both hands flat on the counter.
“You’re sure it’s not magic?” she asked.
“The only thing magical about it is the taste on a chilly morning. Go on. Give it a try.”
Hestia stuck out her index fingers and carefully brought them together, pressing the corners of one bread slice, lifting it this way. She laid it on a nearby plate that had just been unpacked, poked it a few times with her nail, and only then lifted it to her mouth for a bite.
“Tastes like bread,” she reported.
“I’d hope so.” Harry said. Wielding a spatula, he pulled off the eggs, dishing half onto Hestia’s plate beside her thoroughly-investigated toast. “Have you thought at all about how you’re going to approach Oscar Smith?”
“That should be easy!” Hestia said brightly.
“Will it?”
“Well, I’m his neighbor,” she said. “I’ve never had trouble making friends before. I’ll chat to him in the mornings, and we’ll have our answer within a few days. There’s nothing to it!”
O-O-O
“Hey there—!”
Oscar Smith walked directly past, refusing to give Hestia a scrap of attention as she leaned out of the front door, smiling brightly.
O-O-O
“Just in time! I think they gave me your mail by mistake—”
The proffered envelopes were yanked out of Hestia’s hands. Oscar Smith didn’t even slow down to do it. She was left with her hands out, her polite smile fading, watching as he walked away, stuffing the mail into his pocket at an awkward angle.
“You’ll crease them that way!” Hestia said.
He was already gone.
O-O-O
“You're just in time! Could you grab this for me?”
Hestia’s arms trembled as they clutched a large box from the bottom. She was struggling down the hallway toward her apartment, each step heavy and labored. She looked as if she’d fall over any second.
Oscar Smith bumped her shoulder as he walked past, making her stumble to the side. She dropped the box, falling onto her knees as picture frames spilled out and skidded across the floor.
For the first time, Oscar Smith stopped and looked at her.
“A little help with this?” Hestia asked with a very forced smile.
He turned his back on her, leaving without a word.
A door opened and shut. Harry knelt next to Hestia, beginning to collect frames and slide them back into the box.
“Tough crowd?” he asked.
“I’m sure he’s got a lot on his mind,” Hestia said. “His job did sound awful when Dumbledore described it.”
“I don’t think that justifies bundling over women in hallways.”
“It doesn’t,” Hestia said, helping Harry with the last of the frames. “But I'm sure he has his reasons. That’s all.”
They tipped the box upright again. Hestia started to get a grip on it, but Harry gently pushed her back, lifting it himself.
“What’s the plan for tomorrow?” he asked, carrying the frames back into their apartment. “I’m not sure how you can escalate after playing the damsel-in-distress card.”
“You’re right,” she said gravely. “Approaching him in the hallway isn’t enough anymore. I hate to say it, but it’s time for more extreme measures.”
Harry wondered what that could mean. Breaking into his home while he was at work? Using Legilimency on him when he wasn’t expecting it? Maybe acting aggressive, and gauging his response?
He pondered this as he set down the box of frames on the table. When he turned around, Hestia had crossed the room, looking excited.
“It’s time for my secret weapon!” she said.
Harry stared at her pretty freckled face as, slowly, she slid something into place behind her ears. Hestia smiled proudly at him… wearing black plastic glasses frames with a fake nose, mustache, and bushy black eyebrows attached.
“If I tail him wearing these, he’ll never notice!” she said.
“Hestia, I’m going to say this in the nicest way possible. Take those off.”
“What? Why? These work on Muggles! I saw it last night, on that portrait with all the shows!”
Harry followed her finger, which was pointing at the television.
“That was a cartoon,” he said. “For children. Those things are not even slightly inconspicuous.”
“Then… Then what about the rest of my disguise?”
Hestia hurried over to the table, lifting up a cheap plastic wig and a long trench coat, not completely unlike the one Harry often wore. Harry sighed, walking to the door.
“We can get to this tailing business later,” he said. “First, let’s do a bit of shopping. It’ll be on me. So just… Put those down, please.”
O-O-O
“Harry! They’re looking at me!” Hestia whispered urgently.
“They are. But it’s not for a bad reason. Calm down and order.”
The two of them were seated at an outdoor cafe, shopping bags beside their seats. Hestia’s simple clothes had been traded out for a new yellow sundress with bumblebees stitched into the surface. It brought out the best in her tanned skin, something Harry wasn’t alone in noticing. More than a few passing strangers snuck glances on their way by.
“I can’t believe Muggles wear things like this,” Hestia said, sitting back in her chair and pulling on the fabric. “I haven’t shown this much skin since the last time I attended a ball!”
“It’s alright,” Harry reassured her. “You look much more natural this way.”
Going unsaid was that her original ‘disguise’ had been about as bad as possible. He’d gone through Hestia’s wardrobe after that. He didn’t know where she did her shopping in preparation for this mission, but he was eighty-percent sure it had been a joke shop of some kind. He found everything from a full irish kilt to a flowery, patterned kimono. It was a miracle that her clothes thus far had been as normal as they had been.
The waitress approached them, taking their lunch orders. Hestia chatted with her, and unlike Oscar Smith, she had no trouble making this woman sound like an old friend in under a minute. When the waitress walked off, Hestia’s cheerful smile didn’t dip as she said, “He’s behind you.”
Harry pushed his glasses up. They picked this outdoor setting on purpose. When he transfigured one of his glasses lenses into a mirror, there were no electronics close enough for him to fry.
He caught a blurry image of Oscar Smith walking behind him, a huge dog ahead of him with a lead around its neck. Harry transformed his lens back and chanced a glance over his shoulder. The dog was an ugly Doberman, while its leash was made from metal chinks instead of flexible plastic.
“I guess that’s the dog the neighbors told us about,” Harry said. “Face of an angel on that one.”
“Don’t be mean,” Hestia said. “It might have a wonderful personality.”
Oscar led the dog along the sidewalk, or maybe the dog was the one leading him. It stopped in front of the prettiest tree on the street, raised its leg, and ejected a yellow stream all over the trunk.
The waitress returned with their food. Hestia traded jokes with her while Harry watched their target. Oscar crossed the street, heading toward home again, passing directly past their cafe.
Right next to Hestia and Harry, the Doberman stopped. It looked at them through a low metal fence that separated the sidewalk from the cafe’s seats.
“Is she friendly?” Hestia asked.
Oscar stared at her. Given their past interactions, even Hestia seemed a bit surprised when he nodded.
“Hey there, Sweetie!” Hestia said, sticking her hand through the metal bars.
The dog snapped at her, spittle flying from its mouth as she yanked her hand away. Hestia cried out, knocking her chair back. Other customers were looking over, while their waitress rushed out.
“That doesn’t look friendly to me!” Harry said.
Oscar kept walking away. For the first time, he showed emotion, snickering softly.
“Lovely bloke,” Harry said.
When he turned back, he found Hestia holding her wrist.
“Did it get you?” he asked.
“It’s not bad—” Hestia said.
Harry had already stood up, stepping around the table. He pried her fingers off, finding a thin red line oozing blood on her wrist.
“It’s really just a little cut,” Hestia said, blushing.
But Harry lifted one of the napkins off the table. He pressed it to her skin, where it soaked up spots of red. Harry slid the napkin down the cut. When he pulled it away, there was no wound.
“No wand?” Hestia whispered, staring at her wrist.
Harry moved past her, greeting the waitress as she rushed over, assuring the woman it was alright. Hestia continued to look at her wrist, tracing the unblemished skin. Eventually, they both sat back down, returning to their meal. They bandied theories back and forth for the cause of Oscar’s odd behavior, but agreed that it didn’t seem like he was under the effects of an Imperius Curse, unless the caster had a very odd set of tastes.
“It’s like he’s trying to draw attention to himself,” Hestia said. “Being so much of a, well…”
“Prick?” Harry supplied.
Hestia blushed. “Unfriendly individual,” she said.
“Maybe that’s just what he’s like?” Harry said. “It’s possible. I’ve met men who were even worse.”
Hestia shrugged. She, of course, didn’t know any more than he did. That’s why it was their mission to find out.
“Maybe I’m missing something,” Hestia said.
“Like what?”
“Well, his nightly routine is always the same,” she said. “But I can’t see any significance in it. He comes home from work at the same time, watches the same shows… Maybe someone else could make sense of it.”
“Like me?” Harry asked.
Hestia blushed.
“I just think you might catch something I haven’t,” she said. “Don’t you think we ought to give it a try?”
Up to this point, Harry had been spending his days here before heading back to Hogwarts after dinner. He’d finish what bits of work he could, prepping for the start of the term, then sleep in his quarters and be back early in time to cook breakfast. He did not trust Hestia with a Muggle kitchen.
But he was almost done with his prep work by now. Realistically, all he was doing in the evenings was second guessing himself, redoing lesson plans he’d already finished. It didn’t hurt to apply himself to something else for a single night.
“Why not?” he decided. “I’ve got the time to spare.”
“Oh, goody!” Hestia said. “I can’t wait!”
O-O-O
“Hestia?” Harry asked.
“Yes, Harry?” Hestia asked.
“I just have to check. When you asked for my help… It was to investigate the target, right?”
“Of course!”
“Okay,” Harry said. “Because it seems to me like you just wanted someone to watch a movie with.”
Hestia blinked owlishly, stowing the large bowl of popcorn she was bringing over behind her back. She laughed, followed by a pause.
“That’s crazy!” she said.
Sighing, Harry patted the couch next to him, and forgetting her nerves, Hestia dropped onto it.
They’d laid a fluffy blue blanket across the cushions. Hestia tucked her legs underneath her, setting the bowl of popcorn on her thigh and grabbing the remote— or, as she called it, the ‘Muggle Wand.’
“Want some?” Hestia asked, tilting the popcorn toward Harry.
He could tell she wanted him to take some, so he did. It hadn’t been salted, but otherwise, it was perfectly fine.
“Good, right?” Hestia asked.
“It’s good,” he said.
She leaned closer, beaming.
“I made it,” she whispered.
Still smiling, she leaned back and turned to the TV, turning it on.
The TV was set up on a table, pushed against the wall they shared with Oscar’s apartment. As was often the case, the baby was kicking up a fuss.
“Waaaaaaaa! Waaaaa! Waa! Waaaaaa!”
“Quiet!” urged a woman’s voice, faintly audible through the wall. Harry perked up.
“Did you hear that?” he asked.
Hestia nodded. “She speaks sometimes. The mother, maybe?”
Harry shrugged, leaning back against the couch cushions. Unless they broke in right now, it wasn’t like he knew the answer either.
Hestia found the channel she was looking for after a bit of scrolling. A television was on inside Oscar’s apartment too. Some kind of cooking show, from what Harry could catch. The baby was still crying.
“Quiet!” snapped the woman’s voice, louder this time.
Hestia turned the volume up, causing Harry to shake his head with a rueful smile. If there was any doubt left that she just wanted someone to watch a movie with, he could put that to bed.
Still, he leaned back. The movie she was waiting for was a romantic comedy. The lead was a young girl who moved to the big city, only to end up with a quirky (but very handsome) roommate.
Hestia finished her popcorn in the first fifteen minutes. She started shooting glances at Harry. Every few minutes she would squirm without saying anything.
“Are you waiting for something?” Harry asked.
“No!” Hestia lifted her chin, staring at the TV. “I’m just a bit cold…”
She was sitting on a blanket. But that wasn’t what she wanted.
For a few seconds, Harry weighed things up inside his head. On one hand, this was supposed to be a mission, getting to the bottom of the strange boy next door. It was serious business, a task given to them directly by Dumbledore himself.
On the other hand, Hestia was still wearing the bee-dotted sundress he helped her pick out. Even though she wouldn’t look at him, she’d started chewing her bottom lip.
Harry stretched his arm out, wrapping it around Hestia’s shoulders. She leaned back, putting her weight against his arm.
“Waaaaaaaaaaa…”
“Shut Up already!”
Harry blinked, looking past the TV at the wall again. “If that is a mom, she sure doesn’t sound like a good one.”
“I’m sure it’s fine,” Hestia said, although her face looked unconvinced.
She was distracted moments later, however, when their movie reached a new scene. The tension between the lead and her roommate bubbled over, turning an ordinary evening into an intense makeout session. Harry felt Hestia stiffen against his arm. They couldn’t hear the baby anymore, or the woman screeching at it. Hestia looked at him. She leaned in, shutting her eyes…
The TV released an unearthly wail. Their movie reversed as if it was rewinding, a wailing sound escaping the speakers until, with a loud pop, they stopped making noise entirely. The microwave beeped loudly, only stopping when an unhealthy hissing sound escaped it. Every light in the apartment turned out at the same time.
“Lumos!” Harry said, lifting his wand.
There were no working electronics left to fry, so it wasn’t like he had anything to worry about. He stood up, leaving a somewhat shell-shocked Hestia behind on the couch.
“Someone used magic,” he said.
“Oscar must’ve messed up,” she said.
“I don’t know.” Harry frowned. “He’s a Muggleborn. They’re usually the best about this kind of thing. They lived without magic for years, so they rarely fall back on it without thinking.”
“Everyone makes mistakes though,” Hestia said.
She wasn’t wrong. Was Harry overthinking it? But Mrs. Oliver said outages were common. That was more than a single mistake. Maybe the woman in the other room was a witch, and she—
Harry froze. He crept forward, pressing his ear to the shared wall.
“Do you hear that?” he asked.
Hestia, who was only visible because she’d cast her own Lumos, cocked her head. “Hear what?”
Through the wall, a female voice was still talking, explaining each step of a recipe.
What they thought was Oscar’s TV, hadn’t turned off.
Comments
jp9901
Looks like Oscar has company...
