Chapter 3

School was a dull as ever. A quick charm on my books meant no one could tell what I was actually reading, so I got to work revising the ward schemes on my trunk. Someone had had a good attempt at breaking in last night, and if I left them as they were, they might make some more progress and break into my first compartment. Though it wouldn't be terrible, I really didn't want to replace my clothes again this term, after Malfoy had colour changed all my robes when I opened the trunk to grab a textbook. I hadn't been able to undo the charm, even with some rather potent decolouring charms, so I assumed it was something the Hogwarts library hadn't got a book on.

But, in charms, I slipped up. Flitwick was walking past when he caught a glimpse of the parchment, I was inscribing Nordic runes on, and his eyebrows had shot up immediately. I cursed to myself as he asked me to stay behind, knowing I had shown my hand too soon. If Flitwick started to spread that I was holding back, the older years would start to worry about me usurping their position is Slytherin, and that would be a disaster.

I didn't even have time to sketch a dummy of what I had been doing, something that would obviously have been taken from a library book. No, it would have to be the nearly complete rune chain, complete with the arithmetic formula written down the side, something no fourth year should have been capable of.

He smiled at me as I walked forward. "Now, Mr. Potter, you're not in trouble. No need to walk like its your own funeral. I am simply curious about that rather intriguing piece of parchment; why that is sixth year runes content in an entire new language, do you mind if I take a look?"

I reluctantly pulled the piece of parchment out, careful not to wrinkle the runes or formula. It needed to be perfect when I put it in my rune's notebook for later reference, and if I messed the runes or formula up with creases the perfectionist in me would make me redo the entire sheet. Flitwick's eyes followed my every movement as I handed the parchment over to him. He took it reverently, his eyes scanning every inch of the parchment.

After several seconds, he looked back up at me. "Mr. Potter, I really think you should show Professor Babbling this; she could get you an OWL with this alone. In Nordic runes as well, why they are incredibly temperamental from what I have heard." His long, slim fingers gently placed the parchment down on the desk as he looked at me.

I kept my eyes low, hoping against hope that he would let me go. Unfortunately, he didn't seem interested in leaving the subject. "Do you have any more work like this? Maybe something hidden away in your trunk?" The small man's eyes were gleaming; he must have figured out what the runes were for by the arithmetic formula.

I shook my head slowly. "No professor, nothing like this. It's a long-term project to try and protect my stuff." With practiced ease, I slipped in a laugh. "You know how teenage boys love to perform prank each other, yet I am don't find having my robes turned green that fun." The diminutive charms professor didn't seem too convinced however, which was a first.

He snapped his fingers and a house elf appeared. That made me pause. Why did he need a house elf… "Bring me Mr. Potter's trunk, please?" Damn, now I was in trouble. There was no way I could disable the wards around my trunk before Flitwick saw them.

The house elf nodded and popped away. "Now, Mr. Potter, I just thought we could apply this ward together, considering there seems to be few volatile runes here." He started pointing to a few of the runes on the desk but was interrupted by the house elf coming back with one small hand on the side of my trunk.

It let go of the trunk and popped away immediately, leaving me, Flitwick and my rather heavily warded trunk in the classroom together. He looked down at it, and his eyes widened slightly at the runes carved on the top. I thought it would get the message across to any classmates: it was a very large protection rune that was still glowing from its activation. As was a fair part of the trunk.

The charms professor sighed, then looked at me. "Mr. Potter, when you said that the runes I saw was a long-term project and that you had nothing else like it I fear you may have been lying."

This was new to me. I never got caught. Hadn't for years. I looked at the ground sheepishly between the pair of us. "I think I may have exaggerated slightly." I hedged, hoping against hope he wasn't going to break my protections.

Yet that didn't seem to be on his mind. "You know what, Mr. Potter? I really think the Headmaster should see this; it is quite incredible. Please, come to his office after your evening meal tonight." Great, this really was quite the mess I had got myself caught up in, things really couldn't get much worse.

As I walked out of the classroom, a hand grabbed the shoulder of my robe and slammed me up against the wall. It was a sixth year Hufflepuff, with several large friends as back up, and apparently fate had decided to take offense to my 'can't get worse' thought while talking to Flitwick. "Listen here, brat, you owe us an apology." I was a bit stunned to react here; what could the badgers want with me. Then it hit me: the tournament.

The large hand shook my small frame hard up against the wall. "Well, Potty, what's it going to be." With calm that only came in times of extreme anger for me, I whipped away the spit he had sprayed over my face in his ire.

With a flick of my wrist, the calm power of my Ebony wand in hand (A/N: Intentional, don't worry) and the heat of my anger in my heart, I let loose in a way I almost never did. I silent stunner had the first on the floor before any of the others even knew what was happening. The second fell to a whispered body-bind before his wand had left his pocket. How Hufflepuff; not having your wand drawn when ambushing someone. The third took a step back, while the forth wasted no time in sending off a stinging hex.

He earned my full ire.

Within five seconds of attempting to curse me, he: received mottle black and red hair all over his face, had his robes spelled florescent purple, had his back covered in painful hives, his shoes turned into clown shoes (complete with bells), and, most spectacularly, the most glorious green Mohican I had ever seen. Why, it was over a foot in height, and would probably glow in the dark.

After seeing the full force of my anger, the fifth and third Hufflepuff decided that attacking me wasn't a very good idea and ran. So, it was me that walked away from the chaos outside Flitwick's classroom, scowling at the walls in anger. How dare they? I did nothing to them.

The rest of the day was uneventful. The work was easy, and I no more teachers found me doing dangerous rune work. Maybe because I wasn't doing any runes work in class, but that wasn't the point. The day finished an hour before dinner, so I headed to my usual place after class hours.

Hogwarts was full of little rooms that no one but the house elves ever saw, which I had discovered in my first year. Then, all I had in it was a chair and a small desk, so I wasn't stuck in the library. Now, it had four bookshelves filled with handwritten notes on almost everything, one for each year, a large oak desk taken from an abandoned classroom, a smuggled in desk chair (which had been very funny: wheeling that thing down the tunnel and corridors between here and the furniture shop in Hogsmeade without being seen) and several very nice writing sets. And that was only my side of the room.

I sat behind the, admittedly very nice, desk and began doing the maths on the latest ward I wanted to anchor to this room. The current wards were all well and good, but they weren't very well distributed. This would be an area ward on the entire place so anyone not approved would find all the defences activated to expel them.

The door opened, and Neville stepped through, his long hair covering most of his face. "Afternoon Harry." I nodded to the Gryffindor outcast, before turning back to my wards. He wandered over to his desk and slumped in his own smuggled chair (that one had been even more fun, considering there was two of us to laugh at how ridiculous the entire thing was), pulling out his own parchment for homework. "Snape set us a foot on the uses of troll bones in rot inducing potions. Rotten git."

I smirked over at him. "Really Nev, rotten git is the best you have? Usually you have several long paragraphs of complaints to make." The other boy laughed, and I felt myself relax a bit from the day.

"So, what's up with the tournament? I know you, being in it will upset your plans." At this he rolled his eyes, obviously think of how ridiculous my plans were.

I sighed and looked out of the window of our little study. "No, I didn't enter and yes, it is upsetting my plans. The judges won't let me bow out either; it's a binding magical contact I apparently accepted when I didn't snap the goblets cord. Which I only sensed for about a second."

Neville grinned, his eyes gleaming. "I suppose this makes your plan redundant, so you can finally show how good you are." For some reason, the Gryffindor seemed to be enjoying this.

"You know I wasn't planning on that until fifth year. I'm still not sure I can handle Slytherin."

At my statement, Neville just started to laugh. "You know, I do believe that is the single most stupid thing you've ever said."

I scowled over at him. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you are kind of a bit, how shall I say this, over-competent at magic for your age. I mean, come on; a Patronus at thirteen? Your trunk at fourteen?"

I shook my head. "Result of need, Neville. And right now, I need a way to survive in a tournament that has killed the best choices of the three premier schools of magic in the world for hundreds of years."

Neville just smirked at me. "I have upmost faith in your ability. What was up with Flitwick earlier?" Damn, I had forgotten about that.

So, I told him, shortly, about how the half goblin had outwitted me. By the end, he was holding back tears of laughter. I scowled again, painfully aware of how much I was over using it. (A/N: No really, what other menacing but really kinda cute expressions do people pull when miffed with a friend?)

Neville was utterly unimpressed by my threatening expression. "You got completely outplayed. What's your plan with Dumbledore?"

I sighed and looked down. "I don't know. Now is the worst possible time for him to question me; he needs to believe I didn't put my name in. But this could throw doubts on my Occlumency ability."

Neville stood and walked over to me, grabbing me by the shoulder. "Don't worry, Harry, you've got this. I believe." I smiled at his assurances and went back to the runes. Would the ambient magic by the other wards fray the edges or would… and soon I was lost in thought.

Dinner was as awkward as ever, except even the Durmstrang students were throwing glares at me. I smirked as a familiar green hairstyle wondered through the doors of the hall, gleeful that Pomphrey had not been able to undo the spell or, more likely, knew what he had been up to and left him with the hair. I ate my usual amount, and surreptitiously drank one of my nutrition potions, to make up for the summer.

After the dinner, the summons I had been dreading arrived. Flitwick came and grabbed me before I could disappear, and so I was dragged to the gargoyle. A mutter of 'Iced mice' opened the stairs, and Flitwick followed me up the rotating stairs.

Dumbledore's office was as spectacular as ever, what with the portraits and magical instruments. An idle part of me wondered what he was analysing or whether some of them where alchemically based, while the more active part of me was thinking of ways to end this meeting as soon as possible. My trunk was already sat at the bottom of Dumbledore's desk, though it seemed undisturbed.

The familiar glint of the headmaster's eyes doubled when he saw me. "Ah, Mr. Potter, what an unusual pleasure. Professor Flitwick has told me about your amazing runes work, and after looking at your trunk, I simply must have you show me some of the wards you've anchored to it."

At a flick of the old Warlocks wand, the trunk was propelled into the air, while my charms teacher looked on curiously. "Now, from my preliminary scans, I have found several wards intended to fool the casual onlooker. In fact, most of this is an illusion." I nodded at what he was saying: no use denying it now so I may as well boast a bit. He continued. "Now, I am well aware that you probably have the runes written somewhere, so you won't mind if I start to try break through?"

I smiled at him. "I can reapply the runes later, that's not a problem. But I would warn you, the bottom lairs get pretty violent." The headmaster's eyes widened at the challenge.

He continued with his explanation of his thoughts. "So, when I strip away one set of runes," a copy of the trunk replicated itself into the air; a trick a lot of cursebreakers use when opening the more violent tombs, "it would appear that a time activated shield appears, and the illusion reappears on the inside, a defence that would probably make little sense to the onlooker." His wand flicked at the copy, enacting what he was describing.

"From what I can tell, there are three illusion wards anchored here," as he spoke, lights appeared on the holograph, that had been put back to its before meddling state, "here, and here. But all three are linked together, so whoever is attempting entry must break all three simultaneously."

I smiled a little to myself as he undid the runes. A boom shook the hologram as the chest threw of a simulation of the wave of curses that had just activated. Dumbledore's eyes widened significantly at that, and he turned to regard me over his glasses. "Well, I underestimated you Mr. Potter."

He went quiet for a moment, then smiled. "A feedback loop hooked into the central ward, with a detection rune detecting the magical backlash the illusion runes create. Very clever, I must say." He flicked his wand, and then disabled the illusions. Yet, the curses still activated. "But if I were to, say, but an absorber just over the top of the rune then overload it, the absorber would suck up the power, so why is that not working?"

Flitwick spoke then, leaving Dumbledore to think. "Why, Mr. Potter, I knew you were good when I saw the Nordic runes, but really? A cascading failure detection ward? That's pretty impressive." I had no idea what he was talking about; the illusion was merely a diversion. They weren't the real illusion casters, instead I was using a cluster at the bottom of the trunk to do that. No, the runes Dumbledore was overloading were simple triggers.

Just as I thought this, Dumbledore began to laugh. "I really underestimated you. However, simply the trunk being on the ground wouldn't mask those in future." Flitwick looked confused as the illusions melted off the trunk. "Professor Flitwick, the runes I was activating were illusions themselves; being them were activation runes." The charms professor looked at me in surprise.

They were now at the middle level. The wards now became a lot more… shall we say persuasive here. Trip one of the runes wrong and the trunk would be spewing spells like a lit firework shop, but I doubted Dumbledore would. Indeed, he navigated the runes carefully, without tripping any of my protections, and so disabled the second lair of defences.

The last lair was designed to slow down any intruder for as long as possible and was by far the most complicated. It was supposed to hold off any intruder until I could get back to my trunk, and as such had the most complex runes out of all my defences. Dumbledore abandoned his commentary here, instead focusing entirely on entry.

When he had finished, he looked up at me. "Mr. Potter, I must say, that is very impressive. I do hope your schoolwork improves to show the level of charms and runes we now know you capable." And with that I was sent back to my dorm, with the trunk to reenchant.

A/N: Hello, here I am with another chapter of this. This chapter introduces several very important concepts, and several themes. Neville is very important, I will tell you that now, as is the battle of wits Harry is having, which symbolises how he thinks about adults. The next chapter will be more about the tournament, and Harry's prep. I have always thought the tournament was a bit easy: that tournament killed the best of the three best schools in Europe in the past