The Vanishing Act
The founders stared at the spot where the shadowy cat had vanished, the chill of its presence lingering in the Great Hall like a ghostly echo.
Salazar broke the silence first, his wand now fully raised and pointed directly at Harry. “Enough games. You’ve danced around our questions long enough, *Evans*. Explain yourself. Now.”
Harry sighed, leaning back in his chair with deliberate nonchalance. He swirled the goblet of mead in his hand, watching the liquid ripple. “Explain what, exactly? That Death is a dramatic old friend who likes to drop in unannounced? Or that I occasionally talk to it? Because I’m fairly certain you just witnessed all of that.”
“You are no ordinary wizard,” Rowena cut in sharply, her voice cold and calculating. “You claim to have knowledge far beyond your years, possess power that defies logic, and now we find you consorting with Death itself. Who are you *really*?”
Helga’s voice was softer but no less firm. “We’ve welcomed you here, Harry. But secrets like these cannot remain buried if you mean to stay.”
Harry raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a faint smirk. “And what happens if I refuse? Will you cast me out? Try to duel me?”
Salazar’s eyes flashed dangerously. “If it comes to that, yes.”
Godric stepped forward, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword, which hung at his side. “Evans, this isn’t a threat—it’s a warning. If you are a danger to this castle, to these students, we *will* stop you.”
Harry let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re all so dramatic. Honestly, you’d get along with Death splendidly.” He placed the goblet down and stood, his movement slow and deliberate. “But let me save you the trouble of trying to interrogate me further.”
Before any of them could react, Harry flicked his wrist. The air around him shimmered as though bending to his will, and in the blink of an eye, he was gone.
“What—?!” Godric stepped forward, his hand gripping his sword as though expecting an attack.
Salazar snarled, his wand at the ready. “Where did he go? He was *right here*!”
Rowena’s eyes darted around the room, her mind racing. “That wasn’t Apparition. The magic felt... different.”
Helga stood, her expression tinged with worry. “You don’t think he’s truly dangerous, do you?”
Salazar turned to her, his voice sharp. “You saw what just happened. He consorts with Death and disappears into thin air. Do you really think we can trust him?”
Rowena’s gaze lingered on the empty chair where Harry had been sitting. “There’s more to him than he lets on. Far more. We need to uncover the truth.”
“Then we find him,” Godric declared, his voice firm. “No more games. We confront him properly and demand answers.”
But as the founders resolved to uncover Harry’s secrets, the man himself reappeared in a quiet corner of the castle, leaning casually against a stone wall.
Death’s voice purred in his mind, laced with amusement. *“Running away, are we? How very unlike you.”*
“I didn’t run,” Harry muttered, crossing his arms. “I just… left before they could get annoying.”
*“And here I thought you enjoyed their company.”*
“I do. Most of the time.” Harry glanced down the empty corridor, his expression softening for a brief moment. “But some truths aren’t meant for them. Not yet.”
Death’s presence seemed to hum with approval. *“Careful, Master. The more they dig, the more they’ll unravel. You’ve made your choice to play this game. Don’t let it get out of hand.”*
Harry smirked faintly, pushing off the wall. “Oh, I won’t. But it’s fun to keep them guessing.”
With a flick of his wand, Harry vanished again, leaving nothing but the faint echo of his laughter behind.