Gary Potter sat at his usual table in the Ministry of Magic cafeteria, absently twirling his spoon in his coffee. Across from him, Hermayonaise was buried in a thick tome titled The History of Dark Quidditch. She didn’t look up, not even when Ronny Weasley strolled in, plopped himself into a chair, and began complaining about the terrible state of the Ministry’s tea selection.

“You know,” Hermayonaise said, finally breaking the silence, “Dark Quidditch has a long history of chaotic mishaps. Death Eater teams play a truly terrifying version of the game where it’s legal to openly curse opponents during the match.”

Gary, never one to miss an opportunity, glanced up from his coffee. “I always play Quidditch in the dark, and it’s never been a problem for me.”

Ronny raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair with a grin. “Wait, you play Quidditch? The most exercise you’ve had since school is walking to the pub.”

Gary grinned, clearly proud of himself. “Ha, you haven’t seen me playing Quidditch all night in my underpants.”

Ronny looked at him with a deadpan expression. “Now that is Dark Quidditch.”

Hermayonaise smirked but didn’t bother looking up from her book.

After a moment of silence, Gary leaned forward, as though a grand revelation had just occurred to him. “You know what? I’ve been thinking. Everything I do goes wrong. My instincts are terrible. So... I’ve decided I’m going to do the opposite of everything I normally would.”

Hermayonaise finally looked up, skeptical. “The opposite?”

Gary nodded, the idea gaining momentum in his mind. “Yeah! The opposite! Think about it—everything I’ve done so far has been a disaster, right? So from now on, I’ll do the exact opposite. Maybe then I can get into the chosen zone.”

Ronny chuckled. “Gary, everything you do can and will go wrong. You only got here a few days ago, and you’ve already caused several emergencies.”

Hermayonaise gave him a sideways glance. “You’ll probably just end up in more trouble than usual.”

Gary shrugged. “Let’s see. Maybe doing the opposite will get me somewhere. I’ve got nothing to lose, because doing things my usual way is causing complete chaos.”

Later that day, Gary wandered through Diagon Alley, feeling unusually bold. Normally, he’d avoid confrontation, especially with the shopkeepers who still remembered the time he’d accidentally hexed the Magical Menagerie, causing wiener dogs to come floating out the windows like hot air balloons at a birthday party.

Just as he passed the ice cream parlor, a commotion broke out. A wizard was shouting at the shopkeeper, his wand sparking angrily. “I asked for Dragon’s Breath Pistachio, you bloody idiot! Not a cone full of frozen Frogspawn Ripple!”

Gary’s gut instinct was to walk away, avoid the conflict, and get on with his day. But then he remembered—do the opposite. He marched up to the shouting wizard.

“Oi! Why don’t you calm down, mate?”

The wizard turned to Gary, his face contorted with anger. “What’s it to you? You going to rub your little scar and tell me a nine-letter word?”

Gary, surprisingly calm, crossed his arms. “It’s to me because you’re making a scene, and frankly, you’re making a complete fool of yourself.”

The shopkeeper and the bystanders stared in shock. Normally, Gary would’ve apologized by now, stammered his way out of it, but this was Opposite Gary. He stood firm. The angry wizard’s scowl deepened for a moment—then, miraculously, his face softened.

“You know what? You’re right.” He turned back to the shopkeeper. “I’m just having a bad day. Can I please just get my Pistachio?”

Gary blinked. “Wait... what?”

The shopkeeper looked at Gary, impressed. “Thanks for stepping in, Gary. I’ve been dealing with that guy’s rudeness for weeks. Ice cream’s on the house for the chosen one!”

Gary couldn’t believe it. Opposite Gary was working already. He took the free ice cream, grinning.

Later, in the Ministry cafeteria, Gary found himself sitting alone, staring at a plate of suspicious-looking sandwich triangles. He normally avoided the tuna, as it had a tendency to transform into something resembling a Flobberworm halfway through the meal. But today, he decided to order the opposite of his usual.

Gary picked up the tuna sandwich and took a bite, determined to stick to his new strategy. Surprisingly, the sandwich didn’t make him wretch. He was halfway through when Hermayonaise sat down across from him.

“Eating the Ministry tuna?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Planning to take the afternoon off work, are you?”

Gary shrugged. “Opposite day.”

Ronny joined them moments later, eyeing Gary’s plate. “You’re actually eating that? Aren’t you worried it’ll come alive in your stomach and try to swim out?”

“Nope,” Gary interjected quickly. “Opposite Gary eats the tuna.”

Just then, a witch in Ministry robes approached the table. “Mr. Potter?”

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Gary nodded. “That’s me.”

“We need someone to present a report on broomstick maintenance in front of the entire Department of Magical Transportation this afternoon. Normally, we wouldn’t ask someone so new, but you did seem to have a lot of broom knowledge in your memoirs. Could you handle it?”

Gary’s immediate instinct was to say no. He hated public speaking, and the thought of presenting in front of a crowd made his stomach turn. But then he remembered—do the opposite.

“Sure,” Gary said, leaning back in his chair as if it meant nothing to him. “I’ll do it.”

Ronny and Hermayonaise stared in disbelief.

“You hate public speaking,” Ronny said, his voice tinged with concern.

“Opposite day,” Gary said with a grin.

That afternoon, Gary stood in front of the Department of Magical Transportation, a stack of notes in his hand. His heart was pounding, but Opposite Gary wasn’t going to back down. He took a deep breath and began his presentation. Unbelievably, everything went smoothly. He talked about broomstick bristles, maintenance spells, and even cracked a joke.

“You can charm a broomstick to sweep the Potion Master’s floor, but don’t be surprised if it grows a mustache and tells you to bugger off for spilling incompatible elixirs.”

When he finished, there was a round of applause.

Gary couldn’t believe it. He had done real Ministry work without causing someone’s head to blow up into a pumpkin.

As he was leaving the meeting, a tall man in Quidditch robes approached him.

“Mr. Potter, I couldn’t help but overhear your presentation,” the man said, extending his hand. “I’m with the Holyhead Harpies, and we’ve been looking for someone with your confidence and insight. How would you like to join us as Head Quidditch Strategist?”

Gary stared at him in shock. His dream job. Normally, he’d leap at the chance. But today wasn’t a normal day.

“I’m sorry, but no,” he said, shaking the man’s hand.

The Quidditch manager blinked, confused. “No?”

Gary nodded. “Yep. No.”

The man looked at him for a moment, then laughed. “You’re funny, Potter. You’ll fit in perfectly with our team. Come to the address on the card first thing on Monday so we can discuss how to move things forward.”

As the manager walked away, Gary felt a strange mix of pride and horror. He had just turned down his dream job... and yet Opposite Gary had come up trumps.

The next day, Gary walked into the Ministry cafeteria wearing a fancy French suit and twirling a pocket watch around his finger. He approached Ronny and Hermayonaise with the air of a refined foreign wizard, as if he were about to conjure up a Cordon bleu feast for the entire cafeteria.

“So,” Ronny said, smirking, “I hear you’re leaving us for Quidditch stardom.”

Gary shrugged. “Opposite Gary just has a way with brooms. What can I say? They need me.”

Hermayonaise raised an eyebrow, her smirk barely hidden behind her book. “Funny, considering that you turned it down, that you’re sure dressing like you’ve already won the World Cup. Come on, Gary, you can’t really believe this is going to last? Next, you’ll be telling us you had a successful date! Then I’ll know the world’s lost the plot.”

Gary Potter was still on a high from his unexpected victories thanks to his “opposite strategy.” As the morning wore on, he decided to keep the momentum going. If doing the opposite of what he normally did was working this well, why stop?

Later that day, Gary was summoned to a meeting with Mr. Blotch, the Ministry's no-nonsense supervisor. Normally, Gary would dread any interaction with Blotch. The man was about as fun as a Dementor at a birthday party, and any meeting with him usually ended with a stern warning or a stack of paperwork. But today, Opposite Gary was in charge. Instead of feeling nervous, he walked confidently into Blotch’s office.

Blotch sat behind his desk, his face a permanent scowl. “Potter, I’ve been reviewing your file. You’ve caused three near-catastrophes in as many days.”

Gary shrugged, unbothered. Normally, he’d stammer out an excuse, but today? Opposite Gary leaned back in his chair, cool as a cucumber.

“Yeah,” Gary said casually. “And?”

Blotch blinked, clearly not expecting such a laid-back response. “You nearly burned down the Charms Division, Potter.”

Gary shrugged again. “Well, accidents happen.”

Blotch’s frown deepened. “Potter, this is serious. You can’t just—”

“Look, Blotch,” Gary said, cutting him off, “we both know I’m not the Ministry’s top performer. But here’s the thing—maybe that’s not such a bad thing. Maybe the Ministry could use a little... chaos.”

Blotch stared at him, utterly bewildered.

“You know what?” Gary continued. “I think you’re just too uptight. You need to loosen up. Maybe take a vacation. Get some sun. You do know we’re wizards, right? We can whip up a spell, and hey presto, the pixies are gone—it’s not worth losing sleep over.”

Blotch’s mouth opened, then closed, as if he couldn’t quite process what was happening. “A... vacation?”

“Yeah,” Gary said, standing up. “Think about it, Blotch—you and your wife in a Greek taverna eating stuffed vine leaves. That’s what you want to worry about,” he said, pointing at him earnestly before strolling out of the office nonchalantly.

Later that evening, back at the Leaky Cauldron, Gary sat with Ronny and Hermayonaise, reflecting on his strange day. Ronny was already three Butterbeers in, while Hermayonaise sipped her drink thoughtfully.

“So,” Ronny said, smirking, “how’s Opposite Gary doing?”

Gary leaned back in his chair, grinning. “It’s been a great day. I told Blotch to take a vacation, and I got offered my dream job.”

Hermayonaise raised an eyebrow. “You told Blotch to take a vacation? And you’re still employed?”

Gary nodded. “Yep.”

Ronny laughed. “Mate, you’re on fire. This opposite thing is working.”

Gary nodded. “I know! Opposite Gary is unstoppable.”

Hermayonaise closed her book, looking skeptical. “You know this can’t last, right?”

Gary waved her off. “I’m telling you, Opposite Gary is untouchable.”

Just then, an owl swooped down, dropping a letter in front of Gary. He opened it lazily, expecting yet another success to fall into his lap.

But as he read the letter, his face paled.

“Dear Mr. Potter,” he read aloud, “due to your actions today, we regret to inform you that you have been assigned to permanent broomstick inventory duty, effective immediately. Your lack of professionalism and general disregard for Ministry protocol has resulted in this demotion.”

Ronny nearly spit out his Butterbeer. “Broomstick inventory?”

Gary’s eye twitched. “It’s... it’s fine. Opposite Gary can handle this.”

Gary crumpled the letter and tossed it onto the table. “I’ll just... do the opposite of whatever they tell me to do in broomstick inventory.”

Ronny leaned back in his chair, grinning. “I think you’ve officially become the Ministry’s biggest liability, again.”

Gary groaned, slumping in his chair. “This was supposed to work! I’m supposed to be winning!”

Hermayonaise shook her head, her smirk barely hidden. “Maybe next time, stick to hexing everyone and going on bad dates, it suits you better than that ridiculous suit.”