A Bad Joke?
While Percy was busy with his self-appointed mission around the castle, Harry had been given what was perhaps the worst detention any student at Hogwarts could possibly receive: helping none other than the Masked Hero answer the fan mail he received almost every day.
The letters were filled with sickeningly sweet words, countless hearts, glittering enchantments, and even heart-shaped envelopes that made Harry's eyes hurt just from looking at them.
Some even came with gifts—chocolates or homemade treats prepared by the fans themselves.
"Oh, you'd better not try eating any of those. It's not that I don't trust my fans, but sometimes a few of them slip little things inside. Like Amortentia... or hair," the Masked professor said.
Even while saying something that unsettling, he somehow sounded genuinely proud of himself.
As if driving women crazy were one of his special powers or something.
Of course, Harry hadn't planned on eating any of those things in the first place.
But after hearing the professor say that, he didn't even want to touch them anymore.
"So then, Harry," the Masked professor said as he cheerfully answered another letter using the exact same words he wrote in every single one of them, something he seemed so used to doing that he could probably have done it with his eyes closed. "Has your mother ever talked about me?" the professor suddenly asked, making Harry, who was rubbing his wrist after writing so much, look at him with a remarkably flat expression bordering on complete disgust.
Which, naturally, the professor noticed.
"Oh, no, don't misunderstand me," he said quickly, raising both hands innocently. "I just thought perhaps your mother might be one of my admirers. Maybe we could even take a photograph together so you could send it to her. I could even... perhaps take off my mask so she'd recognize me," he added with a smile that, truth be told, looked just a little suspicious.
"No... I don't think she's a fan of your books, Professor. She's been pretty busy studying lately to spend time reading... fantasy stories," Harry said, unable to stop himself from putting just a little sting into those last words.
"Fantasy stories? Hahaha."
The professor couldn't help laughing cheerfully, as though he'd just heard the funniest joke of his life.
"Well, I suppose my adventures can sometimes be portrayed as legends or myths. Quite fitting for a hero, of course. There's a reason I earned that nickname, don't you think?" the professor said with a smile that seemed to sparkle, as always, every time he showed his teeth.
As though he cast a Glittering Charm every single time he smiled.
"Umm... yeah. Whatever you say," Harry replied, trying to bring the conversation to an end so he could finish this task already and finally go eat something.
The professor gave him a thoughtful look before finally speaking again.
"To tell you the truth, Harry... is it alright if I call you Harry?" the professor asked, trying to sound more familiar.
Something Harry, of course, didn't like very much.
But it wasn't as though he wanted another Professor Snape deducting House points because he didn't walk down the stairs the proper way, or because he'd answered a question correctly but Snape didn't like the order he'd put the words in.
One Professor Snape was already more than enough.
"Sure," Harry answered without much enthusiasm.
The professor rested a hand on Harry's shoulder as though speaking to a close relative.
"The truth is, Harry, I knew you long before I became... well, an internationally famous hero," the professor said, as always making sure to refer to himself in every other sentence.
Harry merely nodded while subtly rolling his eyes.
After all, plenty of people knew the Boy Who Lived.
Harry even remembered there being books written about his supposed life.
"No, I'm serious. Actually, I..." But before the professor could continue, Harry suddenly seemed to hear a voice that came straight into his head.
"Wait. Be quiet," Harry said at once, raising a hand and cutting off the professor's rambling, which, throughout the entire detention, had really amounted to nothing more than talking about himself and how proud he was of his own life.
"Uh... I was trying to say that before I became the hero..."
"Shhh."
Harry silenced him again with a serious look that made even the adult, known as a hero who had fought dozens of beasts of every kind, actually close his mouth.
Harry completely tuned the professor out as he tried to focus even harder on that voice.
It was a voice that chilled your blood just by hearing it.
A voice filled with hatred that stole your breath away.
Cold as ice.
"Coooome... come to me. Let me rip out your guts. Let me devour you. Let me kill you."
Harry's eyes flew open, and he shot to his feet.
The professor, who had remained silent after seeing Harry's expression, instinctively stepped back with both hands raised, looking confused.
"What? What's wrong?" the Masked Hero asked.
"Did you hear that, Professor?" Harry asked, his expression much more serious now, with a hint of fear. "The voice. Did you hear it?" he asked again, trying to confirm it.
The professor stared at Harry in confusion, then fell silent for a moment as though trying to listen himself.
But judging by the look on his face, he couldn't hear anything.
"What are you talking about, boy? Are you trying to scare me? Let me tell you, that won't work. It's very difficult to frighten someone who's faced a banshee that foretells death," the professor declared, proudly puffing out his chest.
But at that exact moment, without turning around, he accidentally bumped the letter opener beside him, knocking it onto the floor with a loud metallic clatter.
The professor immediately jumped.
At the same time, he frantically searched for his wand, and the moment he found it, he pointed it toward the floor with a noticeably nervous expression.
If it had really been an enemy attacking him...
It would already have been far too late to cast a spell.
Harry, who had been frightened by that horrifying voice, stared at the professor for several moments before looking at him with the strangest expression imaginable.
Even his fear began to disappear as he looked at the man who was supposedly teaching them how to defend themselves from the dangers of the magical world.
"Hahaha..." the professor laughed awkwardly. "It was just a joke, a joke. I was getting you back, Potter. Besides being heroic, as you can see, I also have a comedian's side," the professor added as he put his wand away, trying to look calm.
And not embarrassed in the slightest.
"A joke? The voice too?" Harry asked in a much more serious tone.
"The voice...? Ah, yes, the voice. Of course, that's part of the joke too. But look at the time—it's getting a bit late. Why don't you go have something to eat now?" the Masked Hero said as he quickly ushered Harry toward the door of his office. "The voice... pretty funny, right?" he added while gently pushing him outside, though for just a moment he glanced around the room with suspicion... and the faintest trace of fear.
Harry looked at him intently while trying to hear the voice again.
But there was only silence.
Harry cast one last look at the professor's office before making his way toward the Great Hall, though every so often he would stop, trying to listen for that voice again.
Yet after leaving the professor's office, he never heard it a second time.
Even so, something about it didn't sit right with him.
The voice had felt far too... real.
But since no one else seemed to have heard it, he had no choice but to accept that maybe it really had just been some kind of joke.
Though, for a joke...
It had made him feel deeply uneasy.