Chapter 169: Hoping Dumbledore Face-Tanks a Meteor
After a conversation in which both "host" and "guest" were thoroughly pleased, Harry's new guardian—acting Hogwarts professor Ryan Welles—and his former guardians, Vernon and Petunia, set aside their disputes and reached a consensus.
Both parties ended the talk politely, though Mrs. Dursley did state that she "reserved the right to make further inquiries."
"From now on, then, Harry will not be returning here," Ryan said as he pulled Harry toward the door. "We'll just part ways and wish each other well. We can see ourselves out." As they were leaving, he seemed to remember something and turned back to Petunia. "Ma'am, the wind changes. So do people."
After speaking, he pulled Harry, and they vanished from the Dursleys' doorstep.
Vernon: "...What did that mean?"
Petunia: "I have no idea..."
Diagon Alley.
A child in a sharp suit was humming a tune, practically bouncing as he window-shopped.
After receiving Vernon's pained, through-the-nose apology, Harry had been on an absolute high. This was best demonstrated when they passed through the Leaky Cauldron. Greeting the wizards inside, Harry had copied Ryan's grand style, waved his hand, and announced, "All drinks today are on Mr. Potter!"
His generosity was very effective. The public's sentiment—which had previously been projected onto him as a symbol of anti-Voldemort resistance—transformed into genuine respect for Harry himself. (Or perhaps, respect for his Galleons.)
"Senior Ryan," Harry asked as they walked, "was that meteor shower back then real? Did wizards really do that?"
He was thinking back to Ryan's threat to Vernon. He didn't understand natural science very well, or the details of the dinosaur extinction, but he felt that the stars in the sky and wizards' magic were two very different things.
"Of course not," Ryan laughed. "I was lying to him. The reports of shooting stars all over Britain that night were real, but it wasn't a meteor shower. It was just a massive Illumination Charm cast by Dedalus Diggle." Ryan had heard Dumbledore talk about it. On the night Voldemort fell, Dumbledore and McGonagall had been waiting on Privet Drive, and they'd remarked that Dedalus must have gotten over-excited and set off a high-powered light show to celebrate.
"Dedalus Diggle? An Illumination Charm?"
"I don't know him well, just heard the Headmaster mention him once. He's probably an enthusiastic type, good with light charms, like a George and Fred." Recalling the headache in Dumbledore's voice when he'd mentioned the name, Ryan figured he must be another "outstanding Hogwarts graduate" who didn't care much for the Statute of Secrecy.
Harry, however, was still stuck on the dinosaurs. "I've heard about meteors, but I've never heard of them causing that much damage. Are they really that powerful? If the Headmaster had been there, could he have stopped the dinosaur catastrophe?"
Ryan: ???
Harry, what are you saying? The Headmaster has been nothing but good to you! Why are you trying to get him killed! Why do you want Dumbledore to face-tank a meteor! And not just any meteor, but the ten-kilometer-wide, ecosystem-ending, 'reset-the-planet' one!
Forget an extinction-level event, he couldn't even face-tank a thermobaric bomb!
Ryan, with a look of utter disgust, began to lecture the clueless Harry, teaching him some basic science, lest he get any more bright ideas about using Dumbledore as a damage shield. He explained the initial energy blast, the seismic shockwaves, the subsequent continental plate chain reactions, the volcanic ash, and so on.
Ryan emphatically stated that Headmaster Dumbledore was just a very powerful wizard, and he begged Harry to never, ever suggest that any wizard try to face-tank a meteor or a nuclear explosion. Otherwise, that wizard would be forced to conclude that Harry was harboring dark intentions and should probably be... "dealt with"... for everyone's safety.
Even after this detailed explanation, Harry still couldn't quite grasp the scale of the power involved. He just filed it away: Headmaster = very powerful. World-ending meteor = also very powerful. Wizard = cannot tank.
"What about guns, then?" Harry asked, changing tack. "When Hagrid brought me my letter, he didn't care about Uncle Vernon's shotgun at all. He just bent it in half."
"You can't generalize," Ryan explained. "For an average wizard or a student, a gun is lethal, difficult to dodge, and it's hard to take down the wielder before they pull the trigger. But for an elite wizard, an Auror, there are plenty of ways to neutralize a firearm before it can be used." This, Ryan noted, all depended on the wizard having a basic understanding: if I get shot in a vital spot, I will die.
If a wizard knew nothing about guns, then—with the possible exception of Dumbledore's legendary level—even the Heads of House would probably just get mowed down.
The current Ryan, having spent so much time around legends, was in the middle of a magical growth spurt that felt like a volcanic eruption. In a short duel, he wouldn't lose to any Grand Sorcerer. But his mastery of magic was still in the "proficient" stage. He hadn't yet grasped the deeper, essential concepts that defined a truly great wizard, like Professor McGonagall's flawless Transfiguration or Professor Flitwick's ability to weave spells together at will.
And if he just stood there, without magic, and took a bullet to a vital organ? He was fairly certain he didn't have the power to pull off a miraculous escape. He'd just die. The Heads of House probably wouldn't fare much better.
I wonder if Dumbledore could take it? Maybe I can trick Harry into testing it—no, no, that's too much. If I got caught, I'd be strung up from the Astronomy Tower for a term.
He squashed the thought and continued walking with Harry through Diagon Alley. The narrow, cobbled street was lined with crooked shops, their red-brick and dark-wood fronts a charming, chaotic jumble.
At Quality Quidditch Supplies, Ryan bought a Golden Snitch souvenir and a model of a new broomstick. "To celebrate your escape from hard times. Here."
Harry accepted the gifts, his heart overflowing with a gratitude so immense it almost hurt. He quickly and comfortably formed a new mental equation: Dumbledore's successor ≈ Senior Ryan. Therefore, listening to the Headmaster ≈ listening to Senior Ryan.
They passed the bookshop and stopped in at Ollivanders for a short chat with the old wandmaker.
After they left, Harry suddenly caught a strange aroma in the air. Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour had a new special: Spicy Chili. He was intrigued.
Ryan silently cursed Harry as a heretic, but he still bought him a scoop to try.
Just indulging the kid, he told himself. Nothing to be ashamed of.
Ryan, trying to comfort himself, clenched his fists.
~~~
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