Harry Evans Chapter 100

AN: Very Short chapter, that's why update is fast.

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Harry had to refrain from grimacing as the smirking professor's question tumbled around in his head. While wizards and witches often discussed which society was better, muggle or magical, bringing it up in such a manner was a rather extreme faux pas.

The question then became what exactly Quirrell wanted to happen by bringing up such a topic.

Naturally, Harry had his own opinions on the subject, especially considering that he had been a muggle in his last life, but it was hard to say if he should speak his mind in this situation.

The easiest path would perhaps be to simply say, "I'm only 13 years old, so I haven't put that much thought into it," he said evasively, dismissively waving a hand in the air. "It's just politics, isn't it?" he asked in an intentionally ignorant manner.

Quirrell, for his far, simply looked at him curiously.

"Somehow, I find that hard to believe," the man eventually said. "I mostly asked because I was the muggle studies professor before, and half-bloods often have the most interesting perception of these issues."

"But in the end, aren't people just people? No matter what skin colour you're born with, if you can wield magic or not, you're just a human. Nothing special, but nothing worthless either; most of it depends on the circumstances."

"A very safe answer," Quirrell replied. "And what do you think of the widespread belief that we are somehow blessed to have magic, that we are more," he further pursued with a quirked eyebrow.

Harry simply shrugged. "Some people are also born much more intelligent than their neighbours. Does that mean that they are inherently superior? For all that wizards have magic, considering the population difference, there are probably more muggle geniuses than magicals in the first place."

"An interesting point of view." Quirrell hummed. "But you can't deny that we are different in a very fundamental manner. So what do you think about the way that we coexist?" he asked, bringing the topic back to the Statute of Secrecy.

It was not really an easy question, especially considering that magicals saw the Statute of Secrecy in a similar manner as muggles viewed democracy. In Churchill's famous words, it was a horrible system, but it was the best out of the worst choices.

"Of course, it's flawed," Harry said, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice, "but I don't see anyone standing up to offer an alternative solution. Sure, it's unfair that we're the ones who have to hide while they are the ones who get to enjoy the world as much as they want. What are you going to do about it? Kill all of them? Impossible. With how many muggleborns we have in our society at this point, you would start a civil war of proportions that we can't even understand. Make them into some sort of subservient class like Grindelwald was trying to do. It would waste away our lives. The governance of so many people would require more manpower than their subservience would provide in terms of benefits."

"It's easy to critique solutions, as you said," Quirrell replied, "but unless you have any of your own, it's often pointless."

Harry leaned back in his chair and shrugged. "The thing is, I don't have to have a solution because I don't care. I'm just gonna do my best in the situation I'm given," he eventually said.

It was odd that despite the topic being so close to the central issue behind Voldemort's ideology, Quirrell's eyes and face did not display any emotions during the conversation. As if he didn't approve or disapprove of what Harry was saying in any way.

"Well, everyone has flights of fancy, don't they?" the man questioned. "Greatness is simply taking those flights of fancy and turning them into reality." He waved a hand in the air. "My question would be, what is your flight of fancy?"

Harry tilted his head and wondered if he should simply say something ridiculous, and then maybe this annoying conversation could finally end. It was about time that they started going back to practice, right?

"Well," he started, "coexistence certainly doesn't work. We've seen that, but what we've also seen is that the muggles landed on the moon thirty years ago. There are probably other inhabitable planets out there. The muggle world is always concerned with its wars and the destruction of the environment, so why not just leave them to it and take over another reality? It would certainly be less cruel to all of the creatures who have to stay hidden. It would also reduce the risk towards other magicals considering that the world might disappear in atomic ash any day as well."

It was at these words that Quirrell, for the first time, looked somewhat perturbed. "Going into space?" he asked, almost confusedly.

Harry just shrugged. The world was magical, and unlike science, wizards could figure out most things on their own if they were smart and powerful enough. What was preventing a wizard from making a rocket? Nothing but their own creativity, most likely. Hadn't there been a story in the Quibbler recently about how a wizard had gone to the moon on a Cleansweep and brought back Moon Frogs?

Of course, he was mostly talking nonsense because he didn't really feel like involving himself in an ideological debate with a death eater, but still. This planet honestly sort of sucked anyway, and as a time traveller, he knew that muggles were first going to make it much worse before it got much better. Why not leave?

Actually, thinking about it. In muggle society, it was very hard to get into space. You had to have a bunch of academic credentials, get selected into a space program, go through years of training and then maybe die when the rocket exploded.

Wizarding society was much more individualistic; he was pretty sure he could find a few idiots to design a rocket with on a Hogsmeade weekend, and then they could just fly off. Maybe still die, of course… Actually, maybe they could just take a Portkey back in case of critical failure.

The idea was actually starting to sound more and more feasible.

Quirrell, for his part, was still looking at him a bit weirdly.

"If anything, that's an even more radical solution. If it worked, then magicals and non-magicals would never interact again," he eventually said while steepling his fingers thoughtfully.

"You could leave an elevator behind, I'm sure most wouldn't leave Earth immediately, and I'm sure even then we'd leave behind an office to collect muggleborns," Harry replied.

"An elevator?" Quirrell deadpanned.

Now, it was Harry's turn to look at him oddly. Quirrell had been the muggle studies professor, and he was pretty sure Voldemort also knew what elevators were. They'd had elevators before WW2, right? "You know, the big metal box that brings you up and down a building so you don't have to take the stairs," he helpfully explained.

Quirrell simply huffed at him. "I know what an elevator is, Mr. Evans. I'm just questioning your vocabulary. If anything, we could simply build a mass teleportation device," he replied disparagingly. 

"Like a huge vanishing cabinet?" Harry asked.

"Exactly." It was after this that Quirrell suddenly blanked out before shaking his head with a frown. "Regardless, let's get back to practice; we've waffled enough."

Harry pumped his fist on the inside.

He'd successfully said enough bullshit to skip over the debate the man had tried to bring up. Who would dare tell him that he wasn't socially competent now?

…

Unfortunately, it seemed that Quirrell didn't necessarily appreciate being distracted from the conversation he'd been trying to lead by Harry's nonsense. The next half-hour session was much tougher than the previous one.

Not that that scared Harry.

Jokes on the professor, Harry was into that shit.

…

"Honestly, why couldn't we just all go underground in the worst case? Create a functioning ecosystem underneath the earth's crust. We have literal magic!" Harry exclaimed pedantically.

"I don't think that's quite how it works, unfortunately," Quirrell deadpanned right back.

"You mean because of the Nargles?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"What now?"

…

More pain.

…

"I mean, realistically speaking, it is a bit weird that we as a society focus so much on holding normal jobs and working in a government. Couldn't most wizards just self-sustain their own lifestyle with a bit of alchemy, a bit of warding, a few replication charms and some household magic?" Harry asked.

"You mean decentralising the government until we exist simply as a society of loosely interconnected individuals?" Quirrell asked, then sighed. "That's taking a step back if anything; that's how it was 1000 years ago."

"Yeah, but imagine having magic and going to work. The unemployment rate is way too low. Those are rookie numbers."

Quirrell couldn't repress a roll of his eyes.

… 

More pain.

…

"Just think about it, using the whole seabed of the black sea as a cauldron. I'm sure we could scrounge up enough magical ingredients to get something done. Can you imagine what kind of cool effect we could achieve with such a large potion?" Harry asked dramatically.

"What exactly would be the point, though?" Quirrell asked exasperatedly. 

Harry paused; he hadn't thought of that. "I don't know, maybe it would be funny to transfigure all the chocolate in the world into broccoli. Most villains are all, hurr durr, I'm going to take over the world. I say lame; hundreds of others have the same stupid goal. If you're already going to have unrealistic and dumb ambitions, at least make them funny."

Quirrell sighed in a long-suffering manner and palmed his face before running the hand down slowly.

He paused as if contemplating something.

"Mr Evans, your idea might work in a lake, but unfortunately, the symbolic properties of the sea would make it a very unstable reagent with which to mix so many magic elements. Additionally, how exactly do you think that a potion is going to have a worldwide transfiguration effect? The two disciples function with completely different equivocal principles," he said with a shake of his head.

Harry squinted his eyes.

"So you're saying it's possible?" he asked tentatively. 

"I very much doubt you'll make any progress even if you work on it for a century."

"That's not a no."

…

So much pain.

…

It was after the last half-hour session that Quirrell finally let Harry go with a long-suffering sigh.

"Mr Evans, you have a lot of potential, but your mind seems a bit scattered in a variety of directions," the man commented as he escorted him to the door.

"You did ask me for my flights of fancy, professor," Harry replied cheekily.

Quirrell sighed. "I guess I did. Goodbye, Mr. Evans; I'm looking forward to our conversation next week."

"Think on the broccoli thing. I think it has potential," Harry said as he waved the man goodbye.

The professor rolled his eyes and shut the door.

-/- OMAKE NOT CANNON

"There is something seriously wrong with that boy," a raspy voice said from underneath the turban once the professor was alone again.

"I can't deny that, unfortunately," Quirrell muttered, shambling back to his chair to sit down.

"He could be great, though," the raspy voice said again before growing quiet. 

Quirrell made a conflicted look at that. If the boy had really meant some of the things he'd said, then his becoming great could potentially have very terrible consequences for the world.

Terrible, but incredibly funny…

-/-

AN: What a way to get to a hundred chapters. Glad it happened now...