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Harry Potter and the Death of Harry Potter/8

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Chapter 8

The Fantasy World

ROBERT HARDING FIDGETED nervously with his fingers as he stared motionlessly into an 18-inch computer monitor in the Hogwarts Tracker Room. He had been assigned this afternoon to keep watch of any mysterious signals that may indicate Moron Pukes' location. After three hours he had seen little, and was afraid to report any of this to Niock or Mitch. Mitch, especially Mitch, would get seriously pissed off and lecture him about how the Tracker worked, and how he should've found Pukes in about half an hour. Robert hated these lectures. This is why he often reported his computer experimentation results to Oliezhik.

Today, that didn't seem possible. Since returning from the funeral at four PM Oliezhik had gone straight to sleep in his dormitory. Niock was the one who set up the Tracker and put it in operation. Niock would track down Pukes himself, but he was busy into research of Bachina.

Everyone had deeply understood Niock's message from his speech. There must be justice, yet the magical Courts are just corrupt institutions that really can't do shit in Capital Murder cases involving magic. This is especially true when the defendant is off in an unknown location which the court never bothered to track down, or just didn't have the ability to.

That job was left to people like Niock and Oliezhik, who subsequently assigned it to Robert.

Robert saw a red area on the screen and zoomed in. Just some left-over Bachina that was not properly used. A couple of blue dots that had a remote chance of giving him clues as to where Pukes was, but he'd checked so many of these during the last three hours and none of them seemed to be of any help. So he left them alone. No sign yet of Moron Pukes.

He knew the Tracker Batteries would run out in about ten minutes. Resetting it would take real sill and patience. He could start recharging the battery, but knew that if after another four and a half hours and nothing was found, he'd be screwed and blamed for using half of Hogwarts' electricity for one night.

He shut the device down and ran to wake up Oliezhik.

/-+-\ OLIEZHIK ONLY DREAMED when he slept during the day. And even then it was meaningless dreams that didn't seem to follow any patterns or have any meaning. He was real uncomfortable, and yet couldn't drag his ass off his bed, even for supper. He was frustrated, and tired.

About two minutes of straight knocking on his door finally got Oliezhik out of his bed. He slowly walked over to the door, eyes half-open, hair all messed. When he opened the door he saw Robert Harding staring sideways impatiently. Robert then turned towards him.

"Sorry to bother you, Oliezhik." Robert first apologized.

"What do you need?"

"Uh... I was unsuccessful in tracking down Moron Pukes. The Tracker Batteries has ten minutes left."

"k..." Oliezhik looked at his watch, it was seven thirty, the sun about to set. "You go to supper -- I'll handle it from here."

Robert felt relieved, said thanks, and happily left.

Above his biological need to sleep a few hours everyday, Oliezhik was extremely serious about getting revenge on Moron Pukes. For some time at the funeral he actually contemplated the ways he'll accomplish it -- thinking his Bachina can overpower pretty much everything. Then he thought he was pretty naive. He still preferred Moron to be dead, though.

Now what was really needed are his computer skills. It would maybe take a few days to develop a real good Tracker System, and with the right programming it may take months to perfect. So he was stuck with the Hogwarts Magic Tracker that was built in 1999. He would configure the code a little, defragment it somewhat so it consumed less power, and the works.

Widely awake when he entered the tracker labs, he booted up the program and began reconfiguration. Tracking down Moron was real important. He figured Moron would block the tracker signals with Qi Gong or Bachina, so was careful to track down spare elements of both in the code. Oliezhik wanted to yell at Niock for assigning the damned job of tracking to Robert. With these precious three hours even someone like Song would've at least gathered one damn clue.

He took a quick break from the re-programming at nine-thirty. He looks around in the dark lab. The light bulb above him was flashing and probably won't last the night. He didn't eat lunch and knew his Bachina was disturbed from the hunger. He called Draco Malfoy to bring him some simple stuff to eat. He ate for maybe five minutes. After that it was non-stop programming.

Niock and Mitch checked in at ten, they hung around the screen attempting to find Pukes, but Oliezhik knew neither Niock nor Mitch knew shit about this Tracker thing. He asked both to go to sleep and they gladly left, wishing him good luck.

About every five minutes Oliezhik would test and retest his newest configurations. Spots of red would appear, then disappear. It was confusing, but at least the batteries were recharged.

By two-thirty AM, it occurred to him that Pukes' location was beyond his reach. He felt powerless and frustrated, at the same time nearly dead tired. He set the tracker volume to high, so in case of nay new suspicious findings he'd be notified. Then he lined up a couple of small stools together in a corner and made his bed for tonight.

/-+-\

AT FOUR-THIRTY he violently woke up from the uncomfortable sleeping when a loud noise erupted in the dark room. He immediately sat down at the main control computer. He saw a spread red spot, bigger than any he'd seen. This must be it, he thought. He eagerly zoomed in. He saw remnants of a large test field of magic pointing to Venezuela. People should not be far away. Then Oliezhik thought that there was no way Moron could do this all by himself, and concluded that the Defence against Dark Arts class had a field trip scheduled, and this was probably their testing grounds. It couldn't just be one person. Oliezhik was disappointed.

Now that he was at it again he turned on another progressive scan starting in the northern hemisphere. It would take about thirty seconds. It returned with much of the same results. No progress whatsoever. How can it take this long to track down Moron Pukes??? Oliezhik was sweating like a pig -- the room was boiled by hot air coming out of computers and had little air-conditioning, plus he was extremely nervous.

Oliezhik reminded himself in a previous attempt it took him only twenty-five minutes to locate a serial rapist. The tracker had been operating for nine hours now, and there was little sign of Moron Pukes. He would try again in reconfiguring and retesting. He laboured for another three hours -- nothing.

He had missed Moron by twenty-five seconds.

/-+-\

MOST PEOPLE HAD assumed that there was no chance of finding Moron Pukes with the Tracker System. Mitch Chang, however, prepared otherwise. There were the odd cases of disappearance where the defendant was never found, but Mitch had not studied any of these cases. Today he might actually take time to look at a few.

Mitch searched the library file cabinets. With the help of a librarian Mitch found some previous cases of disappearance involving serious crimes that were committed.

He chose to sit at a large, empty reading table with several stacks of files, and laid them across the table. He began flipping the first stack.

/-+-\

NIOCK COULDN'T SIT comfortably in class. He fidgeted a pencil sharpener while thinking about Plankistan and revenge. He knew the substitute instructor was talking, but no words or phrases entered his mind. The idiot substitute made it worse. She was a rather large and bold woman who practiced Judo in the Sports department -- didn't really understand shit about how to teach. Snape was still stuck down a toilet.

Niock stared at a girl across from him for about half a minute, then tried to think about his class that he was failing miserably with a 35% mark. He just didn't care. The class was defence against dark arts. What were dark arts? Was it the magic being used by dark mages like Voldemort? How does one define dark? Dark was pure evil -- committing an act leading to suffering in a victim. Or in Plankistan's case, death.

Yet by the Hogwarts standards, Moron Pukes' crime is only considered a misuse, misconception and wrongful actions caused by the "light magic." Dumbledore had not admitted otherwise. Niock knew some ideas at Hogwarts were screwed up. But it's been like that for centuries. If Moron's crime was considered dark arts, then how does Hogwarts explain the six or so years of education Moron received here, and no taking the right action to expel Moron Pukes before he could cause chaos and disappear?

Surely if Moron was found, he would be tried in some Magic Court by some well-known judge. He'd be convicted because everyone saw the crime and the magic meter would show that the Berlin Wall Attack, directly caused by Moron, was the cause of death. But the charges, Capital Murder, Public Mischief etc. were all under the protective banner of light magic. And as such, Moron would get no more than expulsion from the magical world forever and never allowed to use magic again. And this is assuming that Moron was found.

There would be no justice in the messed up world of magic. Niock knew he had to take justice in his own hands, with the help of his friends. He knew, that to truly avenge Plankistan's death, Moron Pukes must also die, and die a horrible death.

He would go and talk to Oliezhik and Mitch secretly at lunch time.

/-+-\

SKIPPING HIS CLASSES, Mitch worked tirelessly to seek clues for Moron's whereabouts. By eleven-thirty in the morning he'd found a few disappearance cases involving escape to the real world -- and co-operation of police around the world. Most of the disappearances had dealt with a concept beyond both the real and magical worlds. That was the fantasy world. Someone with powerful enough magic could go into a fantasy world -- ceasing to exist physically in both magical and real worlds, creating a new, fantasy environment using various forms of magic. Very vague concept to grasp, really. Mitch got the basics and left it alone. No way can a second-year create a fantasy world. Dumbledore might do it with the help of others, but Pukes, no way.

At lunch he'd go and ask if Oliezhik made any more progress with the Tracker System.

/-+-\

CANDY AND SEEN were both regulars at the special lunch table reserved for Slytherin Quidditch Players. They had both agreed with Niock and his plans regarding Moron Pukes, but were more enthusiastic when the subject changed to video games.

Perhaps they didn't realize I'm planning to kill Moron Pukes, Niock thought.

Mitch showed up about twenty minutes into the lunch break. Before Niock could speak Mitch went on with a rant about how much of a mystery Moron Pukes remained. He told Niock that he'd checked on Oliezhik at eleven, and he's made little progress with he Tracker and had signs of giving up. Moron simply couldn't be found.

This really frustrated Niock. He wanted to reveal his plans to Mitch but that would seem illogical seeing how Pukes couldn't be found. The more time Pukes was given, the better hiding place he would find, away from the tracker.

"So Oliezhik didn't find anything with the tracker?" Niock inquired.

"No. He's tired as hell. I'll probably take over the shift this afternoon in looking over the Tracker." Mitch replied.

"Nah... the damn tracker is hopeless. Moron's probably in the real world by now."

"Not possible. No Transfer Portal show any records of Moron Pukes traveling to the real world. I checked all the possible Transfer Portal Records, and I even checked the Hogwarts Computer Databases."

"Maybe he didn't need to go through a Transfer Portal."

"He's not that powerful, Niock."

"His Berlin Wall attack was surely damn powerful."

"Fuck, Niock. We need to find the guy using some logical way. The goddamn tracker is not one of them" Mitch said as he pounded the table, spilling Candy's soup.

He's not in the real world, and after sixteen hours of tracking didn't appear to be in the magical world either. Niock was really confused. "Where the hell can he be?" Niock asked, almost to himself.

"Couldn't be the fantasy world, could it?" Mitch suddenly jumped to this brand new idea.

Candy cursed at Mitch for making him buy another bowl of soup.

Mitch looked at Candy. "Candy, you're such a Pothead."

Niock looked over at Mitch curiously, and said. "Where's Harry Potter anyways?"

"Dunno, don't really care." Mitch replied.

"No, Chang, you retard," Niock stressed Mitch's nickname, meaning something important was coming up, "Did Harry even come back after his disappearance three days ago? Have you seen him?"

"What's so important about that?"

"I'm saying, Chang, is there a chance Potter is actually with Moron Pukes?"

"Niock, there's a chance of everything."

"Exactly. What if Harry was the one doing the unexpected shit?"

"You mean blocking the tracker signals and things like that?"

Niock gave Mitch a puzzled look. "Damn it Mitch. Say he just escaped the magical world."

Mitch chuckled. "Niock, Harry Potter's life if one of a magic nerd, he'd never leave the magic world."

"Exactly," Niock paused for a second, then something seemed to click. "So did Oliezhik track down Harry as well?"

"Well, I'm sure in his program, if he saw Potter, he'd tell us."

"Potter has a huge field of magical powers, whether we like to admit it or not. Oliezhik can't miss it if he was blind. Potter may be physically weak, but his magic is one of the strongest there is out there."

"So you're saying both of them left the magical world?"

"Mitch, Potter can't leave the magical world, just like you said."

"No... Niock... I get it now..." After several minutes of not understanding Niock's point, Mitch finally came to a conclusion.

"You get what?"

"Harry's with Moron Pukes. Moron can't get out of this magical world without Harry, and Harry won't leave this world. There's only one solution possible."

Niock was looking sideways, tapping the table, thinking. "What?"

"Harry would've been back yelling for Ron two days ago, but Moron can't allow him. Moron's on the run."

"What the hell are you trying to say?"

Mitch took a sip out of his coke, thought for a moment, then concluded. "They're in the fantasy world."


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