HP: A Magical Journey

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-*-*-*-*-*-

The highest tower at Hogwarts was the Astronomy Tower. You could look down on the entirety of Hogwarts from the Astronomy, and while the sun was up, you could clearly see Hogsmeade at a distance. At night, while stars glimmered in the sky, you could come up there and get the best view of the celestial bodies.

Friar, the Hufflepuff ghost, floated at the highest point of Hogwarts, admiring the view of the stars, looking at their bright shine, making their position known to everyone who could see. In the centuries he had been here, Friar had made visiting the Astronomy Tower to look at the stars a habit.

Tonight was one of those nights when he came here to be at peace, away from the hustle-bustle of the students and the loneliness of the castle when those same students rested in their common rooms and dorms.

"Friar."

The ghost, who was once a clergy of the mendicant religious order, turned around his spectral body to see a student standing there in casual clothing. Friar recognized the child immediately.

"Quinn West," greeted Friar, floating closer to the young Ravenclaw who had dared to explore the mystery of the cursed vaults and had, against all odds, achieved the accomplishment of being the first one to survive the first vault and successfully opening it. He found the secrets that the cursed vault hid behind the millennia-old gates.

"It is nice to see you again, Friar. You look as jolly as ever," greeted Quinn. He gazed at the sky and remarked, "Looking at the stars, eh?"

Friar studied the child in front of him before speaking, "A hobby of mine. Looking at stars calms me down." Friar looked above at the clear sky.

A quiet fell between the ghost and the living person, as both relished the sight of the vast universe that was visible to the naked eye.

Friar was the first one to break the silence as he asked, "I presume that you have come to me for the clue for the next vault."

"Aye, I had enough time to rest. The next adventure awaits for me," replied Quinn, still looking at the night sky above.

A cool breeze blew on the tower, not so chilly and just the right amount of cool that it felt comfortable as it brushed against the skin.

"Do you remember how I told you that no one went past the first vault?" asked Friar. Memories of the numerous people who attempted to challenge the vault passed through his mind; ones who failed, died, lived but gave up, and many others.

"Yes, I remember that," spoke Quinn. "I am the first one to open the first vault or, as I like to call it, the Icy vault."

The defense mechanism to prevent people from accessing Absolute Zero had kept people at bay, instilling fear into their hearts and chill into their bodies.

"Yes, you are the first one. So, you will be the first one to explore the second vault." He glanced at Quinn, his ghostly eyes peering at Quinn, "The second vault is a mystery, even to me. I don't know much about it."

Quinn pulled his gaze away from the sky and trained them on Friar, who showed a worried expression on his translucent face.

"You look worried."

Friar clenched his hands, gathering his monk robes as he balled his fist.

"The second vault is very dangerous. At least it is dangerous, possibly fatal to use ghosts."

Quinn furrowed his brows as his lines appeared between them, "Why do you say that?"

Friar nervously floated as he revealed, "Whenever we ghosts go near the second vault, we felt a danger to our being. It is like if we go near it, we will experience something that we may not like. It instills something deeply unsettling inside our very being." He paused for a moment, contemplating how to form his following words, "All ghosts know better than to go there. Even Peeves won't take the risk when it comes to the second vault."

Quinn took the information, paying attention to Friar's every word. Anything that would give him an edge against the vault, he wanted to hear about it.

'... Something that ghosts dread?'

He thought about it, but nothing came to mind. He had little expertise with ghosts.

'Need to read up on ghosts. I wonder if there is something in Room of Requirements about ghosts,' thought Quinn, as he made a mental note on ghost research.

"Has any of the Hogwarts ghosts ever entered the second vault?" asked Quinn. If there was a precedent, then it would be an excellent point to start.

Friar showed a pained expression. It was not a story he wanted to remember,

"There was a ghost in Hogwarts around five centuries ago. He was a curious one, that fellow. Didn't listen to the warnings of us old ghosts, scoffed about what do we oldies know... a month later, there was a screech that filled the castle... and we never saw him again."

"And, did anyone saw this ghost before he disappeared?" asked Quinn.

"No, we only heard a miserable screech and never saw him after that day," Friar sighed in answer. "Before his death, he had started to roam the castle alone, asked us to leave him alone. We barely saw him in the fortnight before his death."

Friar floated to face Quinn and glided towards him. "Enough of this. Receive the riddle to the second one, find it, and maybe you will be able to find the truth behind the ghost's death and bring light to the secret of the vault."

Quinn stood a little straighter, ready to listen to the riddle. The second vault was waiting for him, and this was going to be the start.

Friar watched the eyes buzzing with excitement, and the expression brightened with anticipation.

*

[

The ensuing vault cursed like the first one,

One that... terrifies the dead ones.

It dwells on the stage of completeness,

Sheltered by the oil of green revenge.

If you want to taste the reward,

accolades you need to appreciate.

But are you ready? It will be anything but easy.

The roads we walk have demons beneath,

Are you ready to face what lies underneath?

]

*

Quinn felt goosebumps on his skins. Not because he felt scared, but because of the way Friar delivered the riddle. The last time he sang the puzzle for Quinn, Friar had built it from what he had seen throughout the year, but this time... this time, it was different.

This riddle came from Friar's heart, his personal experience, thought Quinn. Something that Friar had felt and not seen others doing.

Snapping out of his thoughts, Quinn scribbled down the riddle on paper for future reference.

Looking at the written riddle, Quinn frowned slightly, "This one seems harder, I mean, more abstruse than the last one." He scratched his head in slight disappointment that he would need to think more about the riddle before he could actually get to the vault.

"I will pray that you will be successful in your search. From what I saw last year, I have great hopes of you," said Friar, smiling as he gazed at Quinn. Last year had been monumental in the ghost's life.

Every few decades, all four house ghosts would take turns to appoint a person each to go after the vaults, and Friar's stock had gone up because Quinn was able to survive the first vault, the first one to do so.

Friar had gained bragging rights among his ghost friends.

He watched as Quinn walked away with a hand scratching his head and looking down at the paper in his other hand.

He had high hopes that Quinn would solve this one as well, and he would be able to stand high amongst his ghostly friends.

"This year's Deathday part would be quite fun," smiled Friar, humming a tune as he went back to look at the stars, a jolly expression gracing his face.

.

- (Scene Break) -

.

"Can you repeat that again, please? I am not sure if I heard you correctly," said Quinn, sitting behind his office desk.

"We want you to start a Hogwarts fan club for Professor Lockhart," said one of the Hufflepuff girls sitting in the client chairs of the A.I.D office. Three Hufflepuff girls had come into the A.I.D office and requested something that stunned Quinn.

While Quinn understood Gilderoy Lockhart's popularity among the general populace but knowing the truth about the phony professor and spending a few classes suffering for hours under his ridiculous brags.

So, when Quinn looked at the three older Hufflepuff girls, he could only see a trio of idiots looking at him with dumb gazes.

Quinn shook his head off the derisive thoughts about the older girls and said, "Alright, I can do that for you guys."

He took out a sheet of paper from his drawer and wrote stuff on it.

"First, we need to identify the club's objectives: Think about what kind of club you want to start and what you hope to achieve... In your case, you want to meet other people with similar interests."

One girl perked up and chimed in, "We want to discuss Professor Lockhart and share it with other people. We want more people to about the professor's greatness."

"He is so charming, so handsome, and not to mention so brave," dreamily sighed another girl. It bought dreamy expressions to the other girls' faces.

Quinn held back a gag and spoke, "Alright, the best way to spread Professor Lockhart's good deeds," he emphasized on 'good.' "is to make sure that everybody has access to his work, so it would be best if you girls could donate some of his works to the club."

"We can do that! I have all the professor's books with me," exclaimed one girl. Quinn nodded, not mirroring her excitement.

"Excellent, I would need some seed money for the start of the club to create some flyers for promotion and things like banners and decoration, you can provide me with designs so I can make them, or I can take care of it," said Quinn. He looked up and said, "If you guys want, I can arrange a room for you guys to meet for meetings, or you can get permission on your own."

"About the meetings, I would also need you guys to choose a day of the week when your potential members are likely to be available, such as a Saturday or Sunday, because there are no classes on the weekends, but I would suggest that you avoid Sunday. Once you recruit more members, you can discuss everyone's availability and a meeting schedule."

Quinn wrote something and continued, "The best place to find members is from your own social circle, so you can promote among your common room, and if you hire me, I can promote this in all four common rooms."

"After you gather members, which will not be difficult given the professor's reputation, you need to prepare for the first meeting. The first meeting is important as it needs to be interesting so that you can retain interested people. You could prepare some games or icebreakers so your members can get to know each other. Then, spend some time talking about what each member hopes to get out of the club, what they think it should focus on, and ideas for activities or events."

Quinn went on droning about what the girls needed to about the fan club, and the girls just sat in their seats, stunned, staring at Quinn with open jaws. They became a little worried about the work that needed to go into creating a fan club. This was supposed to be a fun activity, but Quinn made it seem like a tough job.

"W-Wait, this is too much," said one girl, causing Quinn to look up for his sheet of paper on which he was listing the tasks to accomplish.

He noticed the discomfort on their faces and scolded himself for causing them discomfort. The client needed to be comfortable while doing business.

'Grandfather taught me better,' thought Quinn and immediately switched gears. He put on a calming smile and eased the worries of the girls.

"I know it might seem a little too much, but you don't need to worry about it. I will take care of it. You guys just need to decide what you want to do in the club. I will take care of all the complicated stuff. Rest assured, you won't hear a single thing about all the tedious tasks, so just spread your creative wings and work on how to make the fan club fun."

Quinn didn't apologize for overwhelming them, as he wanted them to feel that Quinn was giving them a great deal of help by taking care of all the hard stuff.

And his words did bring the girls some comfort as their stiff expression softened up.

"I see, that is good to hear. Thank you for helping us. We never though it would be so difficult."

Waving his hand to dissuade their worries, "Please, I am just doing my job. I will make sure that you girls' fan club would be the best in Hogwarts."

Quinn talked to them for a while, this time making sure that they were comfortable and happy. By the time they were out of the A.I.D office, they were excited about the future of the upcoming Lockhart fan club.

When they left, Quinn leaned back in his chair and groaned loudly. He didn't want to create a fan club for the jerk, but a job was a job; he couldn't start the year with a rejected job. That was just bad business.

After groaning and whining for a minute, Quinn suddenly sat up straight, his eyes shining with euphemistic sparkle.

"Wait a minute, isn't this great?!" exclaimed Quinn. He was dreading doing this job, but right now, the gears were turning his head.

"I could use this," said Quinn, taking out a new sheet of paper and started to write the things he needed to do.

.

- (Scene Break) -

.

Quinn knocked on the door but not before taking a deep breath and putting on a joyous smile on his face.

"Professor Lockhart, may I come in?"

Yes, Quinn was doing a thing he never thought he would do; talking to Gilderoy Lockhart on his own accord.

Lockhart, who had his signature smile on his face, looked up from his desk. Quinn assumed he was replying to fan mails.

"Yes, child, please come in," said the phony, with his smile widening.

Quinn walked inside and reached Lockhart's table. He was here for something that, if it went smoothly, would be profitable for Quinn.

"Good evening, professor. I have something to talk to you about," greeted Quinn, his eyes gazing across at loads of fan letters on Lockhart's desk. Yup, he was right in his presumption.

"Of course, you have come to the right place. Talk to me, I will help you out, and you will be singing my praise by the time you are out of the room," bragged Lockhart.

'No, you would be quite happy by the time I am done with you,' thought Quinn. He took a seat and smiled, "I am here because I have been charged with creating a Hogwarts-based fan club for you."

Quinn threw the bait, and the Gilderoy-fish jumped at it like a tasty treat.

"A fan club, you say. What a noble and novel idea! Tell me more about this fan club," spoke Lockhart, with enthusiasm shining in his eyes.

If there was one thing Gilderoy Lockhart loved, it was fame.

Gilderoy Lockhart was born to a non-magical father and magical mother. Out of the three children of the couple, Gilderoy was the only one with magic, and it brought a lot of joy to his mother. She treated Gilderoy as her favorite child and pampered him rotten.

When Gilderoy got his Hogwarts letter, a seed of vanity to grow like a tenacious weed. He had hoped to be greeted by whispers and stares, as in his mind, he was already a fully-fledged genius with exceptional magical prowess. The fact that he was merely ordinary, that more talented and gifted children were there, and his naturally wavy hair particularly impressed nobody, disappointed him.

He did have above-average abilities. Lockhart was cleverer than most of his classmates but had a terrible flaw in that Lockhart would not try unless he was confident he would be the best of whichever particular team, group, or class he was with at the time.

Even if he fell short of his ambitions that he would freely share with anyone who bothered listening. He bragged he would succeed in creating the Philosopher's Stone before leaving school and intended to captain England's Quidditch team to World Cup glory before knuckling down to becoming Britain's youngest Minister for Magic.

His vanity was such that he valued learning not for education but because it granted him attention; he craved attention and prizes and begged the Headmaster to start a school newspaper purely so he could see his own name in print.

When these exploits failed to grant him attention, he took to grander, more dramatic means of garnering attention.

He achieved minor notoriety by carving his signature in twenty-foot-long letters into the Quidditch pitch, earning him a weeks' worth of detentions. Created a spell that shot a hologram of his own face into the sky in imitation of the Dark Mark and sending himself eight-hundred Valentines, causing breakfast to be canceled because of the number of droppings and feathers in the porridge.

He increasingly devoted his talents to insincere shortcuts and cowardly dodges, focused on attention and neglecting genuine learning.

After he graduated from Hogwarts, he employed the same habit of cowardly methods, deceit, and fraud but took them to the next level and became an accomplished author. Traveling to exotic parts of the world and having mastered Memory charm shortly after graduation, tricking accomplished witches and wizards into revealing their grandest of deeds and then erasing their memories, promoting them as his own.

So, hearing about a fan club in his alma mater interested him greatly. He understood Hogwarts was the premier institute for all British and Irish wizards, so he knew what kind of reach and demographic he could develop if a fan club was set up here in Hogwarts.

"There has been a demand for creating a club focused on you and your work. I have been charged to create it, and I need a little help from you in your capacity as a professor."

"Oh! Do tell me, I would help you with everything you will need," offered Lockhart, showing full enthusiasm for the matter.

Quinn took out a bunch of sheets of parchment and said, "While it is possible to create a club with no need for professor's permission, but I think that if I have permission from a professor, then it would provide the club with a solid foundation."

He set down the small stack of parchment in front of Lockhart and spoke, "I need you to sign these requests for an allotted classroom as the club base, permission to promote the club without getting into trouble, and other technicalities that enable the club. Please sign these so I can get the ball rolling."

Lockhart didn't even look at the papers and used his quill to sign on every blank space that Quinn had marked.

"What about the activities in the club? I have plenty of ideas regarding that matter?"

Quinn stood up and collected the paper while saying, "Of course, your creative ideas would be a significant addition. I will make sure to send the members in charge of that part. You would be able to get your ideas across better with those students."

Quinn shook hands with Lockhart, "Thank you for the help, professor. We will get back to you as soon as possible. Please look forward to it; students are excited to talk to you about you. Good evening, professor."

Quinn didn't wait for Lockhart to respond and bolted out of the room. He didn't want to talk to Lockhart more than the needed minimum.

A smile made its way to Quinn's face as he stared at the stack of parchments.

'He didn't read the Terms and Conditions, sucker!'

While Lockhart did sign papers for club creation, he also signed some papers not related to club creation, like permission to access the restricted section of the Hogwarts library.

"Yeah, Lockhart was easy to fool~," grinned Quinn.

Quinn had refrained from asking permission to restricted sections of the Hogwarts library as it would bring him unnecessary scrutiny. But with Lockhart's permission, Quinn had now received access for his third year.

He took out another sheet of parchment, and this one also bought a smile to Quinn's face.

"Oh, this is going to make me a lot of money, isn't it? Much more money than the notes did last year."

On the signed sheet of parchment, Lockhart had given Quinn the permission to produce and sell merchandise in Hogwarts, and Lockhart had relinquished any claim on the profits.

It was a proverbial gold mine.

Quinn hummed as he walked his way to get the whole thing started.

-*-*-*-*-*-

(Extra: Shorts)

"We want you to set up a fan club for Harry Potter," asked a Hogwarts girl.

"Oh, come on!" yelled Quinn. "Not again!"

-*-*-*-*-*-

Quinn West - MC - Devious - Opportunist.

Fat Friar - Hufflepuff ghost - Looking forward to being the center of attention at the Deathday party.

Fan Club Girls - Creating fandoms - Can be identified in the wild by their shrill squeals.

Gilderoy Lockhart - ... - "Sucker!" ~ by Quinn.

-*-*-*-*-*-

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