I'm not exactly sane, y'know?

Ragna and Glamours

(Quick A/N . Since im on the website and unable to get the app for reasons that are gonna stay private, I'm also unable to use the bold, italics and underline like I mentioned briefly in my earlier chapter. So my writing style is going to change a bit, sorry for that :/ Also, yall probably noticed that my updates are rather slow, sorry for that too. Please bear with me because I'm not on this acc a lot, I try to get back though. Anyhoo, on with the chapter that I hope is enough :D)

___________________________ (LiNe)

His mind turning back to his current problem and distress, he tried to come up for a solution.

Problem:

Harry cannot possibly go back to Hogwarts with his hair looking like this! He can't risk Dumbles knowing what he, Harry, his Light pawn, had finally reached up and cut the puppet strings. He had to turn his hair back. Now.

Distress:

His hair is red! It's still Weasley red! And he thought he had gotten a hang of it when he managed to return his hair back to his normal unruly, raven black hair. But noooo, at the moment he relaxed, it changed back! Now it's still Weasley red.

Solution:

Hmmm, hair dye? Glamour? Glamours are kind of hard to hold for so long though. Even if his magic does subconsciously puts one up around his scars and makes him at least look a little more healthy than he really is. It's hard to intentionally do one. Think, Harry, think!

Wracking his mind for a solution, Harry stared at the wall opposite of him, deep in thought. Hair dye would be good, but he would like to see and practice his Mimicking powers. And also, he's not sure how his Mimic heritage would react to it. Would the dye stay if his hair changed again? Even if it did, what would happen if he accidentally Mimicked Hermione's long bushy hair? Dumbledore would surely know!

Groaning, he rubbed his face with his hands.

"What do I do?" Harry murmured to no one in particular, one hand over his eyes and the other in his hair, pushing it out of his eyes.

_____________________________

Looking at Harry, I felt my heart going out for the poor boy, although I'm still somewhat amused by his earlier antics. I had been standing respectfully at a side, trying not to disturb Harry's process. Figuring out his newest dilemma, I began to think of a solution, not being able to stand by idly any longer. Hearing Harry's soft murmur, I felt a considerable amount of empathy for him, even more determined to help him solve the problem.

Finally moving from where I had been standing the whole time, i walked over to Harry, patting his shoulder to reassure him that we would find a solution. Suddenly, a lightbulb went off in my head, an idea popping up. 

I smirked as I thought it through, a solution for Harry's problem and a profit out of it. Not bad.

"I have an idea," was the vague sentence I said to the distressed Harry before I walked out from the infirmary, leaving the teen alone by himself.

_____________________________

I played with the ends of my shirt, the bad habit of biting on my lower lip when concentrated showing itself as my mind considered each new idea, however absurd, i came up with in the past 15 minutes.

(A/N: Fml fml fml fml- Stupidwriter'sblockandmyselffornotmakingaplot- Okay, this never happened, continue reading.)

I nearly got a whiplash as I turned my head sharply to the sound of the door clicking when Ragna opened and closed it. Walking briskly towards me, I saw a small elegant black box Ragna held in the palm of her hand, a smirk with a lot of teeth upon her face, her eyes speaking volumes of satisfaction.