Harry grinned wildly, tucking the hem of the Invisibility Cloak around his shoulders. The semi-sentient Cloak wiggled and pulsed its magic into Harry, vibrating with an equal amount of joy and excitement. It had been far too long since Harry had been able to do anything goofy and silly, and never had his mama encouraged such behavior. He beamed up at her, and his grin fell when he noticed her serious, far-off expression.
He tugged one of her hands into his. "C'mon, while everyone's at dinner!" They could have been transported directly into Dumbledore's office, but in Harry's humble opinion, half the fun of mischief was the sneaking part. Not that they really needed to sneak, either. But Harry was trying to make this a fun experience. He bounced on his heels. "We haven't had fun as just the two of us in ages," he complained mildly. "This will be brilliant, I can't wait to see the Headmaster's face!"
She sighed, shook her thoughts from her head, and carried off down the empty halls after her boy. Harry yawned, eyes half-lidded in sleep and the Cloak curled around him like a large blanket which left him looking very young. She rested her hand in his hair and he tilted his head into her touch as usual.
"You're feeling up to this?" She'd pulled him from his recovery bed in the hospital wing, after all.
"I'm fine!" He whined, reminding her further of his childishness. "Just a bit achy still."
"This should help with that." When it came to magic such as the Unforgivables, curses that required strong hatred and negative emotion, there was no way to heal from that except to invoke the opposite emotions. There were draughts to soothe the physical pain and the nerve damage, but some things were only fixed with joy.
He was still being monitored for seizures, which put Quidditch out of the question, but some wholesome hijinks and murder would do nicely.
Alabasandria had met him in the hospital wing last night saying she'd had a nice, polite chat with Professor Dumbledore and smoothed things over. Harry had rolled his eyes at that and mama had sighed and admitted that okay, no, actually they were going to kill him. Murder was supposed to be bad, but Harry had decided to forget about that when she'd said that Harry got to plan the affair.
He held back another yawn and "accidentally" shifted his weight to lean against her. She humored him, used to his affectionate behavior at this point.
"So what's the plan?" she asked after they hid behind a statue from a passing quartet of ghosts.
"We're going to poison his lemon candies," Harry said.
"Hmm. Alright." He did eat a lot of those. "Did you bring a poison?" Harry nodded, offended. "Oh like you aren't the most forgetful person I know," she chided. "How many times have we left the house and realized you weren't wearing any shoes? Anyway, you take care of the candy, I'll distract the phoenix and check for any other traps in his office."
She said the password to the statue guarding the entrance to Dumbledore's office, slipping a disillusion spell on while Harry moved the hood of the Cloak over his head to hide completely. In her pocket, she pulled out a jar with a rather large oddly toned beetle. She'd found the damn thing in her office scurrying along her desk. Disgusting. She opened the lid and tossed the confused bug into the air near the phoenix, who tracked it with his eyes.
Rita Skeeter unfurled her wings, disoriented. She had known there was a story with Potter's strange adoptive parents. Whispers of a fight led to whispers of illicit magicks led to this - the discovery of a secret plot to murder the headmaster. She'd been caught in that jar but now she was free! Oh, she would be the most famous journalist of all time! She would unmask the dark truth of Harry Potter and -
Fawkes jumped from his perch and gobbled up the beetle with a happy chirp. Sated, the bird settled in for a nap by the sunny window. He paid no mind to the floating lemon candies and the quiet snickering. It was probably that ghost again, or the two redhead boys. At least the pranksters had brought him a yummy treat this time.
When the innocent pranksters retreated (in a fit of laughter from one and quiet bemusement from the other) they removed their invisibility. Harry yawned again, much heavier than before. He wrinkled his nose in annoyance. He'd spent all weekend napping, he was sick of it.
"Back to the hospital wing, I think," mama said.
"I'm fine!" Harry said. "I'm just tired, the aches are already loads better." He held up his hands to prove it to her, their uncontrollable shaking had decreased to an infrequent tremor.
"You need rest to heal," she argued.
"I'm bored!" Harry complained. "How long will it take for the Headmaster to die?"
"Why don't go find a quiet place to study then?" Mama said, ignoring his petulant whining. "You'll pass out if you run around."
"Come to the lake with me," Harry demanded. "I want to practice my Mermish."
Alabasandria rolled her eyes but agreed. Harry had been doing his damndest to give her grey hairs, getting into all sorts of trouble and almost dying far too many times this year. If she kept a close eye on him, if she could ensure he was safe for the evening, it would do her stressed heart some good.
And it had been some time since they'd engaged in anything leisurely and relaxing.