"Right," Draco said, his voice now very firm. " We won't. We're wizards, and studying science doesn't make us Muggles."
"As you say," said the green-lit silhouette. "We will establish our own Science, a magical Science, and that Science will have smarter traditions from the very start." The voice grew hard. "The knowledge I share with you will be taught alongside the disciplines of accepting truth, the level of this knowledge will be keyed to your progress in those disciplines, and you will share that knowledge with no one else who has not learned those disciplines. Do you accept this?"
"Yes," said Draco. What was he supposed to do, say no?
"Good. And what you discover for yourself, you will keep to yourself unless you think that other scientists are ready to know it. What we do share among ourselves, we will not tell the world unless we agree it is safe for the world to know. And whatever our own politics and allegiances, we will all punish any of our number who reveal dangerous magics or give away dangerous weapons, no matter what sort of war is going on. From this day onward, that will be the tradition and the law of science among wizards. Are we agreed on that?"
"Yes," said Draco. Actually this was starting to sound pretty attractive. The Death Eaters had tried to take power by being scarier than everyone else, and they hadn't actually won yet. Maybe it was time to try ruling using secrets instead. "And our group stays hidden for as long as possible, and everyone in it has to agree to our rules."
"Of course. Definitely."
There was a very short pause.
"We're going to need better robes," said the shadowy figure, "with hoods and so on -"
"I was just thinking that," said Draco. "We don't need whole new robes, though, just cowled cloaks to put on. I have a friend in Slytherin, she'll take your measurements -"
"Don't tell her what it's for , though -"
"I'm not stupid! "
"And no masks for now, not when it's just you and me -" said the shadowy figure.
"Right! But later on we should have some sort of special mark that all our servants have, the Mark of Science, like a snake eating the Moon on their right arms -"
"It's called a PhD and wouldn't that make it too easy to identify our people?"
"Huh?"
"I mean, what if someone is like 'okay, now everyone pull up their robes over their right arms' and our guy is like 'whoops, sorry, looks like I'm a spy' -"
"Forget I said anything, " said Draco, sweat suddenly springing out all over his body. He needed a distraction, fast - "And what do we call ourselves? The Science Eaters?"
"No," said the shadowy figure slowly. "That doesn't sound right..."
Draco wiped his robed arm across his forehead, wiping away beads of moisture. What had the Dark Lord been thinking? Father had said the Dark Lord was smart!
"I've got it!" said the shadowy figure suddenly. "You won't understand yet, but trust me, it fits."
Right now Draco would have accepted 'Malfoy Munchers' as long as it changed the subject. "What is it?"
And standing amid the dusty desks in an unused classroom in the dungeons of Hogwarts, the green-lit silhouette of Harry Potter spread his arms dramatically and said, "This day shall mark the dawn of... the Bayesian Conspiracy ."
A silent figure trudged wearily through the halls of Hogwarts in the direction of Ravenclaw.
Harry had gone straight from the meeting with Draco to dinner, and stayed at dinner barely long enough to choke down a few fast gulps of food before going off to bed.
It wasn't even 7pm yet, but it was well past bedtime for Harry. He'd realized last night that he wouldn't be able to use the Time-Turner on Saturday until after the book-reading contest was already over. But he could still use the Time-Turner on Friday night, and gain time that way. So Harry had pushed himself to stay awake until 9pm on Friday, when the protective shell opened, and then used the four hours remaining on the Time-Turner to spin back to 5pm and collapse into sleep. He'd woken up around 2am on Saturday morning, just as planned, and read for the next twelve hours straight... and it still hadn't been enough. And now Harry would be going to sleep rather early for the next few days, until his sleep cycle caught up again.
The portrait on the door asked Harry some dumb riddle meant for eleven-year-olds that he answered without the words even passing through his conscious mind, and then Harry staggered up the stairs to his dorm room, changed into his pajamas and collapsed into bed.
And found that his pillow seemed rather lumpy.
Harry groaned. He sat up reluctantly, twisted in bed, and lifted up his pillow.
This revealed a note, two golden Galleons, and a book titled Occlumency: The Hidden Arte.
Harry picked up the note and read:
My, you do get yourself into trouble and quickly. Your father was no match for you.
You have made a powerful enemy. Snape commands the loyalty, admiration, and fear of all House Slytherin. You cannot trust any of that House now, whether they come to you in friendly guise or fearsome.
From now on you must not meet Snape's eyes. He is a Legilimens and can read your mind if you do. I have enclosed a book which may help you learn to protect yourself, though there is only so far you can get without a tutor. Still you may hope to at least detect intrusion.
So that you may find some extra time in which to study Occlumency, I have enclosed 2 Galleons, which is the price of answer sheets and homework for the first-year History of Magic class (Professor Binns having given the same tests and same assignments every year since he died). Your newfound friends the Weasley twins should be able to sell you a copy. It goes without saying that you must not get caught with it in your possession.
Of Professor Quirrell I know little. He is a Slytherin and a Defense Professor, and that is two marks against him. Consider carefully any advice he gives you, and tell him nothing you do not wish known.
Dumbledore only pretends to be insane. He is extremely intelligent, and if you continue to step into closets and vanish, he will certainly deduce your possession of an invisibility cloak if he has not done so already. Avoid him whenever possible, hide the Cloak of Invisibility somewhere safe (NOT your pouch) any time you cannot avoid him, and step with great care in his presence.
Please be more careful in the future, Harry Potter.
- Santa Claus
Harry stared at the note.
It did seem to be pretty good advice. Of course Harry wasn't going to cheat in History class even if they gave him a dead monkey for a professor. But Severus's Legilimency... whoever'd sent this note knew a lot of important, secret things and was willing to tell Harry about them. The note was still warning him against Dumbledore stealing the Cloak but at this point Harry honestly had no clue if that was a bad sign, it could just be an understandable mistake.
There seemed to be some sort of intrigue going on inside Hogwarts. Maybe if Harry compared stories between Dumbledore and the note-sender, he could work out a combined picture that would be accurate? Like if they both agreed on something, then...
...whatever...
Harry stuffed everything into his pouch and turned up the Quieter and pulled the cover over his head and died.
It was Sunday morning and Harry was eating pancakes in the Great Hall, sharp quick bites, glancing nervously at his watch every few seconds.
It was 8:02am, and in precisely two hours and one minute, it would be exactly one week since he'd seen the Weasleys and crossed over onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
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