Harry Potter with Technology System

Susan raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching with amusement. “Skeeter would probably spin your Mental Technique into a story about how you’re building a secret army at Hogwarts.”

Harry let out a dry laugh. “Let her try. I would love to see her twist that into something believable.”

“You know she will,” Hermione muttered as she took a sip of her tea. “She always does. Next thing you know, it’ll be ‘Harry Potter Trains Students to Take Over Ministry,’ with some ridiculous subtitle about how you’ve already got Dementors on your payroll.”

“Sounds like something Skeeter would write,” Daphne added. She was calmly buttering a piece of toast, but her voice carried a faint edge of sarcasm. “Let me guess, Harry—your first order as future Minister of Magic is to abolish mandatory homework?”

“Obviously,” Harry said with a smirk. “First, no more homework. Second, no more Blast-Ended Skrewts in Care of Magical Creatures.”

“That second one sounds personal,” Tracey chimed in from Harry’s other side, snatching a piece of bacon from his plate. She grinned when he gave her a look. “What? You’ve got plenty.”

“You keep saying that,” Harry said, sliding his plate just out of her reach. “Doesn’t make it true.”

Fred and George, who had just arrived and squeezed themselves onto the bench across from Harry, leaned in with identical grins. “Speaking of Skeeter,” Fred began, his voice low but mischievous, “did you hear the latest rumor she’s spreading?”

“She’s claiming that Dumbledore’s gone mad,” George added, his grin widening. “Apparently, hosting the Triwizard Tournament is a ‘blatant disregard for student safety.’”

Harry snorted. “And she just now figuring that out? We’ve been dodging death traps at this school for years.”

Fred leaned forward, wagging a finger at Harry. “Ah, but this time it’s ‘official.’”

“Sounds about right,” Daphne muttered. “Never underestimate her ability to spin a story. I mean, look at what she did after the Quidditch World Cup.”

“Exactly,” Hermione cut in, setting her teacup down with a sharp clink. “And people just eat it up without questioning a word. It’s infuriating.”

Luna tilted her head thoughtfully. “Perhaps they believe it because it’s easier than looking for the truth.”

Hermione gave her a skeptical look. “You’re saying people are too lazy to think for themselves?”

Luna smiled faintly. “Not lazy. Distracted. The truth is often buried under too many Wrackspurts.”

Hermione blinked, clearly unsure how to respond to that, but Ginny, seated beside Luna, just grinned. “It’s probably best not to think too hard about it, Hermione. You’ll only confuse yourself.”

"That is what Wrackspurts do!" Harry and Luna said at the same time, then looked at each other and smiled. The rest of the group only rolled their eyes, clearly unimpressed by their shared enthusiasm for invisible creatures.

“Fantastic,” Tracey said dryly, shaking her head as she reached for the a slice of last two bacons on her plate. “A school full of Wrackspurts and you two are bonding over it. Lovely.”

“Better than listening to Skeeter’s nonsense,” Daphne muttered, cutting into her toast. “At least Wrackspurts don’t write columns.”

Fred leaned across the table, smirking. “Maybe we should invite Skeeter to one of Luna’s Wrackspurt hunts. Might knock some sense into her.”

“Or make her worse,” George chimed in, biting into an apple. “Imagine what she would write after spending an hour chasing invisible creatures.”

“She would probably call it groundbreaking journalism,” Ginny said, shaking her head. “The woman could spin a shopping list into a scandal.”@@novelbin@@

“She would claim the Wrackspurts were plotting against the Ministry,” Blaise added with a lazy grin. “That they’re working in tandem with Harry to overthrow wizarding society.”

Harry held his chin thoughtfully. "Not a bad plan. To take over a nation, you first separate them through different beliefs, make them forget their history, and turn them against each other. Wrackspurts might be the biggest sinners in human history."

Ginny snorted, shaking her head. “Right, Harry, because if there’s one thing keeping the wizarding world from unity, it’s invisible creatures messing with our heads.”

“That’s exactly it,” Harry said, his expression mock-serious. “The Wrackspurts are the masterminds, and Skeeter’s just their mouthpiece.”

George perked up, pointing his fork at Harry. “So what you’re saying is, Skeeter’s their queen?”

“Explains her hair,” Fred added with a grin. “Looks like a nest, doesn’t it?”

“Careful, she might take that as a compliment,” Daphne muttered, sipping from her goblet. “You two should really consider keeping quiet before she finds a reason to write about you next.”

“Oh, let her,” Fred said, leaning back dramatically. “We’ve always wanted to be front-page news. Something like ‘Fred and George Weasley: Unsung Heroes or Future Revolutionaries?’”

“More like ‘Menaces in Gryffindor Robes,’” Blaise cut in dryly, earning a few chuckles from the Slytherins on the table.

Harry smirked, glancing at Blaise. “You’re not wrong. If anyone’s going to blow up half the castle during the Triwizard Tournament, it’s them.”

“We’ll take that as a compliment,” Fred said cheerfully, clapping George on the shoulder. “Our innovations are simply misunderstood.”

“More like under-tested,” Ginny said, rolling her eyes. “And usually at someone else’s expense.”

“You wound us,” George said, clutching his chest in mock hurt. “We’re just trying to bring a little excitement into everyone’s lives.”

“And smoke,” Hermione added sharply, narrowing her eyes at the twins. “And explosions. And fire. Shall I go on?”

Fred grinned. “You forgot chaos.”

“And joy,” George added.

“Enough,” Harry said, waving them off. “If we keep feeding their egos, they’ll start handing out autographs.”

“Oh, please, Harry,” Fred said, feigning innocence. “As if you don’t already have a secret stash of autographed pictures of yourself to hand out to your admirers.”

Harry slowly got up on his feet, moving as if he were floating, moving with the kind of casual arrogance that came naturally when you’d been crowned “King of the Lake,” “King of the Duelling Club,” “King of Price is Right,” and, finally, as the group had so generously declared, “Emperor Potter.” He leaned forward slightly, smirking at the table as his emerald green eyes scanned the amused faces around him.

“Well,” he started, his voice light but carrying enough weight to silence the ongoing chatter, “I am Emperor Potter, after all.” He dusted off his robes like he had a royal audience in front of him, the faintest hint of a grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

Tracey snorted into her goblet of pumpkin juice, clearly unimpressed. “Sit down, Your Majesty, before someone throws a biscuit at your head.”

“Careful, Davis,” Harry said smoothly, leaning down to swipe the last piece of bacon from her plate before plopping it into his mouth. “The Emperor decrees all traitors get double potions homework. That includes sass.”

Tracey rolled her eyes even harder. “Is His Highness now also the Potions professor?”

Harry chuckled, reaching for his goblet. “Did you forget? I’m Professor Snape’s assistant.”

Tracey grimaced as if she just tasted something sour. “Ah, how did I forget that? Probably blocked it out to preserve my sanity.”

Daphne leaned in, clearly enjoying this. “Honestly, Harry, you and Snape. Never thought I would see the day. Does he call you ‘Sir’ yet?”

Harry grinned. “Only when he’s sleep-talking. Otherwise, I stick to my official title—Savior of Slytherin Potions Supplies.”

“Bet Snape loves that,” Blaise said, smirking.

“Oh, he’s thrilled,” Harry deadpanned. “Especially when I ‘accidentally’ reorganized his ingredient stores last week. He didn’t talk to me for two days.”

Pansy snorted into her tea. “You’re still alive after messing with Snape’s personal stash? Impressive.”

Tracey waved her hand dismissively. “Let’s not encourage him. One of these days, Snape’s going to snap and poison his tea.”

“Please,” Harry said, leaning back in his chair. “Snape wouldn’t waste good poison on me. He knows I would just come back to haunt him.”

The table erupted in laughter, echoing through the Great Hall. The sight of Harry, leaning back smugly with that infuriating yet charming grin, only added to the chaos. Tracey muttered something about confiscating his imaginary crown while Blaise tried to make up a ridiculous royal decree on Harry’s behalf.

“By order of Emperor Potter,” Blaise declared, lifting his goblet like a scepter, “all Slytherins are to perform mandatory Quidditch drills after dinner!”

“Except Blaise,” Draco chimed in, smirking. “He’s too lazy to fly without bribery.”

Blaise raised his eyebrows, feigning insult. “Excuse you, Malfoy. I don’t need to bribe anyone. I’m a natural.”

“Naturally benched,” Theodore added, snorting into his juice.

Slowly, the chatter began to die down as students finished their breakfast and started heading off for their classes. Harry glanced at the enchanted ceiling, which showed a pale gray sky promising rain. He stood, brushing nonexistent crumbs off his robes. “Alright, let’s wrap it up. The Emperor decrees that you lot actually show up on time for the class.”

“Generous of you, Your Majesty,” Daphne said dryly, standing and gathering her things. “Though I’m sure the Professor would be thrilled if we didn’t.”

“Think of it as a favor to her,” Harry replied, leading the group out of the hall. “Can’t have her running out of patience before the Triwizard chaos really kicks in.”