Vice versa (Harry Potter)

«Hi, Apple Codling Moth!

Reporting in: the first checkpoint is cleared. I think the books came in handy — at least, he didn't throw them out. One of them, about mushrooms, he ostentatiously read during lunch and even quoted aloud at times. I think the other professors even lost their appetites. So, the patient isn't hopeless. You were right — there's a way to get through to anyone! By the way, have a look in the shops and see if you can find something just as outrageous. It might come in handy for Christmas!

As for the classes, I've arranged them. Nothing too serious for now, but it's progress. Maybe I'll learn something interesting.

P.S. Think of something nice to do for the girl who considers manual floor mopping an insult. Here's a hint: she's pretty and comes from a good family. She absolutely hates our caretaker.»

«Hello, Lemon Eater!

Keep it up! I haven't found anything quite as devastating yet, but next week, my parents and I are heading to London. I'll drag them to some big bookstore and have a look. In the meantime, keep building on your success. Behave yourself and ask smart questions. Or dumb ones, depending on the situation.

P.S. Gift her a mop. Just kidding. Arrange a week of detention with the caretaker for her. You know, to give her a taste of reality! How to pull it off is your problem.»

«Greetings, Apple Codling Moth!

Great! If you find anything good, remember where it's sold and how much it costs! I've staged a little performance here, and I've been promised a bit of money for the holidays — supposedly for gifts for my family and classmates. There'll definitely be enough for books because my classmates are only getting postcards. And I'll draw them myself — remember how we used to do it in elementary school?

P.S. Genius! I'm definitely doing it!»

«Aloha, Lemon Eater!

Found it! This store lets you order anything from their catalog — it's a bit pricier that way, but no need to go to London (not that anyone would let us go there alone anyway). Attaching the catalog.

Handmade postcards are peak chic! Knowing your drawing skills, I'm sure no one will remain unscarred… I mean, unmoved. Next time, I'll send you markers and a jar of glitter so you can sprinkle some beauty onto your creations.

P.S. When you do it, tell me — I'm curious!»

«Hello, Apple Codling Moth!

Thanks for the catalog; there's so much cool stuff here! I think I'll manage to win over you-know-who even more! I wrote to your aunt separately — she'll give you the money, and you can order the items I marked with checkmarks, okay? I'll pay her back when I visit.

I've already drawn a whole pile of postcards! Thanks for the glitter — it makes them even more horrible than usual! And the markers… what delightfully hideous colors!

P.S. It's done. The poor thing has been scrubbing trophies in the Trophy Room for three evenings straight. Her arms won't fall off… This was hilariously easy! I always knew girls are suckers for sentimental nonsense, but to this degree? The hardest part was changing my handwriting. And handling cats — I'm good at that.

Can you guess what I did and how?»

«Hi, Lemon Eater!

Have you lost your mind? Your aunt looked at me like a dragon when she gave me the money! Then she spent half an hour ranting about how terrible you are. Honestly, I'd rather have asked my parents. But I ordered everything. It's supposed to arrive around the 20th, so you can cheer up your beastie… By the way, will an owl manage to carry it?

Also, don't even think about giving me a postcard! I still have one from first grade, and every time I look at it, I shudder. I assume you've improved your artistic skills since then…

P.S. Of course, I figured it out! Simple and elegant… You're such a scoundrel!»

The idea was simple yet brilliant. After careful rehearsal, Harry swiped a prettier piece of parchment from one of the older students, neatly cut a small portion, and wrote in calligraphic handwriting:

"You are as beautiful as the sunrise! When I look at you, my heart leaps from my chest, and my eyes ache. Meet me after curfew in the Trophy Room. I'll be waiting for you! Yours forever, D."

All that was left was to slip the note into Hannah's textbook and wait for events to unfold.

Hannah Abbott spent the entire day squirming, trying to figure out who the mysterious "D" could be. There were several candidates, even just within their house, and by curfew, she seemed utterly frazzled.

It was easy for Harry to unobtrusively follow her, but he had a slightly different plan. Loudly stomping, he headed off in another direction — and immediately ran into Mrs. Norris, the caretaker's cat. She looked at the rule-breaker but didn't have time to act: Harry crouched, pressed a finger to his lips, and beckoned her over with his other hand. Mrs. Norris seemed momentarily stunned.

"I need to report a violation," Harry whispered. He had no idea what kind of connection existed between the cat and Filch, but he was sure there was one. Mrs. Norris wasn't exactly an ordinary animal…

Even now, she seemed to squint as if evaluating his words. Still, she knew Harry well: he treated her master decently and, unlike others, never tried to kick her.

"One of my classmates has a date near the Trophy Room. Right now," Harry said. Mrs. Norris meowed softly. "Yes, I agree — disgraceful! This needs to be stopped, don't you think?"

"Mr-r…" said the cat, rubbing against his leg. Harry absently petted her. He was good with even the meanest of Mrs. Figg's cats and loved animals in general, so he felt no fear toward Filch's faithful shadow.

"And I'll just head to bed," he added. "Quietly, quietly. You didn't see me, right, kitty?"

"Mr-r," she agreed and vanished into the darkness.

Harry smirked and tiptoed back. Hannah was in for an unforgettable night… and at least a few days of intensive manual labor. Plus a scolding from Professor Sprout.

"A worthy revenge," Harry thought to himself, lay down, and slept peacefully.