Chapter 165: The Wizard's Strange Passiveness
It was 11 o'clock at night in the Ravenclaw common room.
Harry Potter burst through the door, startling Ron Weasley and dragging Alexander Smith's thoughts back from the abstract musings of divine philosophy to the mundane world of school life.
"Harry! Why are you back so suddenly? Was it Filch? Or Snape?" Ron sat up in bed with alarm.
"Why are you so sure I got caught?" Harry retorted irritably, tugging off his Invisibility Cloak.
"How many points did we lose?" Ron clambered onto Harry's bed, dragging Scabbers with him.
"No points." Harry shoved Ron's overly curious face aside.
Still, it had to be said: wizards were blessed in small, subtle ways. Those with strong magical potential often possessed subconscious self-cleaning magic. Their appearance—hair, skin, breath—often remained naturally tidy without effort. It was a hidden benefit of magical sensitivity.
Take Ron, for example. Despite often acting like a goofball, his innate magical potential meant he didn't suffer from bad breath, greasy skin, or enlarged pores like some Muggles. Harry had nothing to complain about there.
It made Alexander consider the insult Mudblood—a term rooted not just in bloodline arrogance, but perhaps in ancient perceptions of hygiene. In the unhygienic Middle Ages, non-magical folk must have seemed uncouth in comparison to naturally self-cleaning wizarding families.
Still, even among pure-bloods, not all had strong magical potential. Some in Slytherin, for instance, despite boasting of their heritage, walked around with greasy hair or reeking body odor. No wonder Ron always compared them to trolls in the original timeline. Their dorm's slovenly aesthetic likely didn't help their reputation—Professor Snape's eternally greasy hair included.
Then there were wizards who simply didn't care—those who didn't believe personal appearance mattered, or lacked the confidence to make an effort. Merope Gaunt, Voldemort's mother, came to mind. Her self-neglect wasn't magical deficiency—it was depression and despair turned inward, a living curse.
Some Muggle-borns misunderstood hygiene entirely. They assumed things like acne, blackheads, and bad breath were just natural human traits. Lacking knowledge of the subtle magic surrounding magical hygiene, they never activated it.
Even among wizarding families, certain assumptions became cultural blind spots. The Weasleys, for example, mistakenly believed freckles were a point of pride and considered them charming, rather than a simple magical quirk.
In the end, a good attitude and self-awareness were more powerful than any spell. That was Alexander's takeaway.
Of course, only a second had passed in the real world. The rest had taken place entirely in his head.
---
"No points deducted?" Ron blinked, still surprised. "Then... was the mirror gone?"
"No. But I was still caught." Harry looked defeated and collapsed onto the bed without even changing clothes.
"Caught? By who—another student?" Ron asked in alarm.
"No, it was... Professor Dumbledore. And apparently, he was there last night too. The whole time." Harry looked stunned just thinking about it.
"Merlin's beard! I told you we shouldn't have gone! If only you'd listened to me—"
"Oh, give it a rest," Harry cut him off. "If I hadn't gone, I might've never seen the Mirror again. Dumbledore said it's being moved tomorrow."
"Ugh, what a waste. I barely got to see enough of my future—Scabbers, careful there!" Ron grumbled, nearly elbowing his rat by accident.
Harry then repeated much of what Dumbledore had told him by the Mirror, and Ron's mood shifted slightly.
"So it's not the future, just... desires?" Ron muttered bitterly. "Yeah, figures. Of course Harry's the star of Quidditch. Bet he'll be captain next."
"What was that?" Harry asked, noticing the bitterness on Ron's face.
"Nothing. Just going to sleep." Ron turned his face away, drawing his curtains closed.
---
During the rest of the Christmas holidays, Harry tried his best to avoid thinking about the Mirror of Erised—but it wasn't easy. And Ron grew even more unpredictable, his mood swings hitting without warning like his Aunt Marge's sudden rants.
Harry tried calming him down with Wizard's Chess, which worked temporarily. The moodiness, however, would always return. Fortunately, Ron could still be appeased easily—with food. Chocolate Frogs, Licorice Wands, Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, and some of Kate's imported kebabs filled most of their free time.
Harry's ambitious plans to study magic more deeply and prepare to explore the location of the Resurrection Stone, as Ryan had once suggested, were completely derailed by Ron's antics.
In the end, he gave up trying and just joined Ron in indulging. They even discovered a new pacifier for Ron's temper: comic books—particularly a Japanese one Ryan had introduced called Doraemon.
Sadly, Ron had already read most of the earlier volumes. Only the latest few had any real effect on his mood. That made Harry hope Skywalker—aka Alexander Smith—would release new ones soon.
---
Meanwhile, Alexander had been enjoying a break from reality altogether.
Petting his cat, occasionally checking in on the family hamsters, and diving deep into his inner fantasy world, he lost himself in imaginative solo adventures.
One day, he was a noble knight, riding a silver steed into battle.
Another, he was a galactic captain, leaping between stars.
And sometimes, amusingly, he was Harry Potter himself, testing out an immersive one-to-one simulation of the original story.
He called it: The Daydream Curse Simulator—inspired by the very charm the Weasley twins would later commercialize in Harry's sixth year. For Alexander, though, such illusions were as easy as breathing.
But his isolation didn't last forever.
---
Christmas ended, and with it came the return of Penelope Clearwater and Kate, bringing with them chatter, laughter, and a whirlwind of questions. With their presence, Alexander had to rejoin the world of the living, splitting time between friends and magical research.
Harry, however, plunged into a whole new level of exhaustion.
The next Quidditch match was Ravenclaw vs. Slytherin, set for the second Saturday after Christmas break. It would be a key match—one that might determine the house rankings.
While Gryffindor was set to face Hufflepuff first, Ravenclaw wasn't slacking. Their captain, Roger Davies, along with their seventh-year Beaters and Keeper, were all due to graduate that year. It meant that Harry—now seen as the future captain—needed intensive training.
All players were called back to school early. Practices resumed before the holiday ended.
And so, Harry found himself thrown into a grueling routine—cold weather, long drills, and so many brooms that he started developing broomstick PTSD.
If there was a silver lining, it was Ron.
Watching Harry get hammered into the ground during practice quickly cured him of his dreams of becoming Gryffindor's captain.
If that's what it takes to be captain, Ron thought, then forget it.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If you like the story please give it some power stones and reviews. And if you want to read 30+ advance chapters or just want to support me please join my patreon at p@treon.com/Translatingfanfics