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“Tell me that’s not what I think it is.”
Hermione’s bag slammed down on the table next to Harry, making him jump. He looked down at the scroll of parchment in front of him, halfway filled with his messy handwriting and now marred by a large blot of ink, and scowled.
“Homework?” Harry asked irritably.
“Not that,” hissed Hermione, sliding into the chair next to him. She glanced around the nearly empty library, as if afraid of being caught, and lowered her voice to a whisper. “That.”
She was pointing at the calculator. Her finger was shaking slightly.
“It’s… a calculator?” Harry said.
“Exactly!” shrieked Hermione. Someone in the stacks nearby hushed her loudly and she whirled around in her chair to glare at them, hair bristling like an affronted cat, before turning back to Harry to give him the same furious look.
“A muggle calculator,” she stressed, as if that was supposed to change things.
Harry stared back at her, baffled.
“Is there a magical version I was supposed to get instead?” he asked after a moment, when no further accusations were forthcoming.
“No!” Hermione hissed. “Well, alright, yes, they sell enchanted abacus—“
“Which I don’t know how to use,” Harry said, propping his chin in his hand and putting down his quill. “Or what they are,” he added for good measure.
“—but that’s not the problem,” Hermione continued, talking over him. “It’s a muggle calculator. Technology, Harry!”
“I mean, it’s not a lot of technology,” Harry argued doubtfully. “It’s solar powered and Dudley got it for kindergarten, so. Not exactly state of the art, is it? What’s the problem? Honestly, you’re the one with the secret stash of ballpoint pens, so I don’t exactly see how you can sit there and get mad at me.”
Hermione let out an inarticulate noise of frustration.
“Pens are different!” she snapped. “Mixing magic and electronics is a terrible idea! Didn’t you read your pamphlets?”
“Pamphlets?”
“Orientation! The ones that came with your first-year Hogwarts packet!”
“You guys are getting packets?!” Harry exclaimed, sitting up straight.“All I got was a letter. Wait, wait—how is mixing magic and technology a bad idea? Mr. Weasley’s done it loads of times.”
“Well,” Hermione said, drawing out the word and scrunching up her nose doubtfully. “He’s an expert?”
Harry snorted loudly. “He collects plugs,” he pointed out. “I had to teach him how to use the telephone.”
“You’re not helping your case.”
“He did enchant that car,” Harry said after a moment of thought. This was a rather good argument, in his opinion. Taking the Ford Anglia for a flying joyride in Second Year had frankly been the highlight of an otherwise awful semester. It didn’t make up for the giant snake that had tried to kill him at the end of it, and sure, it had had a few bugs–arachnids, Harry thought with a grin–in the system, but it had definitely been cool.
Hermione thwacked her hand down on the table loud enough to make Harry’s ears ring and jabbed an accusatory finger at him. “Exactly!” she hissed. “Look at how that worked out!”
Harry grimaced. Honestly, the whomping willow was almost as good as new now. If anything, crashing the car into it had just made it whompier, which, considering the name of the thing, Harry thought probably meant he had helped overall. He knew enough not to try to make that argument to Hermione when she was on the warpath, though.
“It’s just a calculator,” he argued defensively. “It’s not like I can crash it into anything. I mean, I guess I could chuck it at Malfoy’s head, if you want to test it out.”
“No!”
“I bet it would bounce,” Harry said with relish. He twisted around in his seat to scan the library, but sadly, the Slytherin ponce was nowhere in sight.
“Harry, focus!” Hermione groaned. “What have you been using it for anyway? Potion ingredient ratios?” she asked hopefully.
“Arithmancy,” Harry said. He twisted back around to face the table just in time to catch her aghast look. “You’re the one who talked me into taking the class!” he said immediately, raising his hands and leaning back. “You can’t get mad at me. The syllabus didn’t say don’t use a calculator.”
Hermione buried her face in her hands. “It shouldn’t have to, they’re on the list of banned items,” she groaned. “Alright. Alright. We can handle this. Nothing’s gone wrong yet. All we need to do is burn it and never, ever let anyone know that you had it.”
“The twins would be so proud of you right now,” Harry told her. “Look at you, all grown up and breaking rules.”
“I’m going to set it on fire, then I’m going to set you on fire, too,” she told him seriously. “No court would convict me, honest. Put it away before someone sees it and let’s go, Harry.”
“Fine,” Harry said with a sigh. “Don’t suppose I can borrow your babascus—”
“Abacus,” Hermione corrected.
“—abacus,” Harry amended. “To finish this later? Or maybe I can look at your work?” he asked, looking up hopefully.
Hermione glowered.
“... yeah, maybe not,” Harry squeaked. He shoved his hastily rolled parchment and capped inkwell into his bag, then reached for the calculator. He picked it up and turned it over, frowning. It felt a little warm to the touch, maybe, and there was a twinkle to the display that struck Harry as peculiarly Dumbledorian, but otherwise…
“It doesn’t feel particularly dangerous,” he said doubtfully. “How exactly can using this go wrong, anyway?”
“Loads of ways,” Hermione said loftily, making Harry grin.
“You don’t know, do you,” he accused gleefully.
“I don’t have to know why, it’s on the banned list for a reason!”
“Yeah, the reason being wizards hate muggle anything,” Harry retorted cheerfully, placing the flimsy plastic calculator in his bag. He patted it gently, then stood up and stretched, working the kinks out of his back from sitting in one place for too long.
“Forbidden forest?” he suggested.
“Someone will see us,” Hermione vetoed. “What about that abandoned classroom on the third floor with the fireplace?”
Harry shrugged amicably. “Lead the way.”
As they walked out of the library, Harry turned to Hermione and asked, “But if you had to guess, what do you think would go wrong?”
“Dunno,” Hermione said, adjusting her bag on her shoulder and walking briskly. “I mean, it depends on the item in question, doesn’t it? There are too many factors at work to make an accurate prediction, but… I guess most electronic things tend to gain a certain level of self awareness, like the car, so I suppose it depends on how you treated it, really?”
“I’m always nice to my things,” Harry said, patting the side of his bag affectionately. A thought occurred to him and he slowed down. “Er, but what if I wasn’t?”
“Well, it’s a calculator. I guess it’d probably give you the wrong answers or something.”
“Umm,” said Harry.
“What did you do,” Hermione asked, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“I didn’t do anything! Only,” Harry said, scanning the corridors for a familiar head of red hair. “I did sort of loan it to Ron first. You know he’s got that idea in his head that he’s going to come up with something cool and join the twins with their joke shop idea, so…”
“Oh no,” said Hermione.
“Yeah,” said Harry. “But, he’s really bad at Arithmancy. He might have tossed it against the wall once. Or twice. Honestly, it’s been a rough week. I think he was planning to test his first idea out today, since we have free periods—”
“Oh no,” said Hermione again. “Do you know where—”
A loud ‘splatting’ sound echoed through the halls, shaking dust from the stone arches and making the paintings shout in alarm as their frames bounced and swayed.
Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance, then began to run.