harry.exe has stopped working ━ hp x tmr | lv

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haha. me??? updating?? that's weird 😬 and after like what? a few weeks? months?? 🤔 idk. i lost my sense of time the last time i was happy which was probably inside the womb 😎 im not too sure, so don't hold me to that 😅

anyways, i was going through a few comments and there's people complaining 🙄 that this fic doesn't make sense??? oh baby 😎 it's not supposed to, its crack 😑 also i write when im high so haha obviously????

and a LOT of people have dropped this fic bc they think harry and tom are gonna fuck 😬😬😬😬 sweetie... harry's like, old, but stuck in a child's body 😑 if he wants to hug timothy and feel a little affection, it's because he's

💫 i n s a n e 💫

but dw, they're not gonna do the dirty 🤧 tabitha isn't a pedophile, he's just a clown 🤡 with slight murderous energy but we don't talk about that 😳

now that we have all that nonsense out of the way 🙃 enjoy another filler chapter bishes! 💅

Chapter Twenty-Five 

Harry writes a letter to Sirius under the careful eye of Verde, who occasionally slaps him across the wrist with his green tail in reprimand when he forgets to write important questions that he, apparently, desperately needs answers to. 

"This is for the best," Verde says, as Harry fastens the letter around Hedwig’s raised leg. She hoots at them before she spreads her snowy wings apart and flies off, the flap of her wings loud. "You'll thank me later," Verde insists. 

Harry sighs for the umpteenth time. He doesn't know how to tell Verde that he just doesn't care. So what if Sirius is playing buddy, buddy with Tom? At least he's not in Azkaban, or worse, dead, or even worse, being reprimanded by a snake who thinks they know everything. 

"Okay, okay," Harry grumbles, leaving the owlery in favour of getting to the Library. He's already late to his nap appointment with Hermione. He doesn't think he can live if she starts nagging at him as well. Dear Salazar, Harry internally begs, have mercy on me. 

When he does arrive at the Library, he's met with the sight of his friends sitting around a long table they must have transfigured to make space for all of them. There's a translucent sheen around them, which must be a silencing charm. Harry groans in despair. "What is this?''

"It's an intervention," Tracey answers. For once, her head isn't stuck inside a book. The clips he had gotten her for Christmas are pinning back her hair, giving way to her eyes that are staring at Harry with narrowness. 

"An intervention," Harry deadpans, not the least bit amused or interested. Salazar has no mercy to give him, it seems. "Pretty please let it be about Draco and Ron?" He tries. 

"Sorry," Theodore smiles, not looking apologetic at all. Beside him, Draco’s face turns into a tomato. 

"Me and Draco?" Ron asks, tilting his head to the side cutely like the little bean of innocence that he is. There's a chorus of groans all around the table. Harry feels for them, but also doesn't. Let them be in pain too, if only for a moment. 

"Harry, sit," Hermione orders, pulling out the chair beside her. She's got her, 'if you don't listen to me, I'll make every aspect of your life painful,' face on, so Harry falls into the chair with a loud, drawn out sigh. 

"This intervention is yours," the bushy haired girl says, patting Harry on the back sympathetically. "And it's about how you can't take care of yourself and make stupid decisions, like hugging Dark Lords that are not supposed to be hugged."