Ever since Harry met you, he thought you were weird, too weird to be true. You had a wit that rivaled his, maybe even surpassed it in some ways, but at the same time, you were the complete opposite. Where he was serious, you were brimming with energy. You were excited at parties, devoured comics and science fiction movies like they were technical manuals, and talked so much that Harry sometimes wondered if your mind ever rested. And now, in front of him, you were putting together a prototype inspired by one of those movies you kept mentioning.

"What are you doing?"

Harry's voice broke the silence in the workshop. He stared at you with that expression somewhere between irritated and fascinated, as if trying to decide if you were brilliant or just plain crazy.

"Because... if that thing blows up, I'm not going to be the one to clean up your mess."