Posted 11/22/2013
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This is a work of fiction, based on the book series by J.K. Rowling. Neither do I claim ownership nor do I intend to.
Chapter Seven – Charms
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After getting the permission, Harry entered. Dumbledore sat behind his desk, looking as old as ever. The many instruments around the room were puffing, and not for the first time, Harry remembered he still didn't know what they were actually doing.
"Good evening, Harry," the Headmaster greeted with a small nod. "How was your week?"
"Good," was the reply, for the youthful curiosity still lingered and kept Harry distracted. "Boring, kind of. I'm doing alright in class if that's what you mean."
"It is something that any educator likes to hear. However, many students find the beginning of the N.E.W.T.-years to be a considerable increase in difficulty."
"Not really, to be honest. I struggled with History and Divination, neither of which I continue. And with Snape gone..."
"Professor Snape, Harry. Common courtesy."
"Without him, Potions is actually manageable," Harry said. "Professor Slughorn explains and teaches and stuff, not just points to the instruction copied to the blackboard. I can't remember Professor Slughorn raising his voice or insulting anyone, which takes some getting used to. All in all, I only have to continue subjects with competent teachers whom I can at least tolerate. Oh, and Defence against the Dark Arts, of course, but then, despite Snape, I do learn it well enough from books and stuff. So, no worries." Harry pursed his lips. "Although it would be nice if Filch wasn't quite so forceful when checking the students going to or coming from Hogsmeade. Ron and I still have marks from our last visit."
"Ah, right. He does keep a close eye on the students he suspects of foul intentions. Did you have fun in Hogsmeade? I enjoyed it in my youth just like any other student who went there. Naturally, back then it had different stores, but some were already there in my time."
"It was alright, but I wasn't really in the mood. Not with the war. I was constantly looking over my shoulder and expecting an attack."
Dumbledore sighed. "It was to be expected. You know better than most what is going on. Incidentally, I received curious reports from my staff about you. A few of your professors mentioned your improved performance in class while Madam Pomfrey expressed her surprise over your prolonged absence from the Hospital Wing."
"Well, I didn't feel like hurting myself critically, so..."
"Quite alright," Dumbledore chuckled. "Madam Pince, however, voiced her displeasure over your reading preferences of late."
This stumped Harry. As far as he knew, only his friends knew about the Potions book. And he hadn't told anyone about his Occlumency lessons, wanting to wait until he had something to show for it. So what kind of reading choices could the librarian be concerned about?
After not receiving a reply, Dumbledore continued. "She told me about your interest in Byrne's work, and I had a bit of difficulty convincing her I hadn't told you about it. I have to admit to being very curious where you learned about him."
Harry laughed out. "Oh, him! I had no idea what you were talking about! Well, I read the name somewhere and wanted to know more, that's all."
Dumbledore fixed his guest with his eyes. "I wasn't aware of any book in school referencing him."
Harry blinked. He hadn't expected it to be any problem. Why did Dumbledore make such a fuss about that book? "Well, why shouldn't there be one? It's not like this Byrne guy is a secret, is it?"
"You haven't answered my question," the Headmaster pointed out. "And there shouldn't be one because they should have been removed by one of my predecessors. No, Byrne is not a secret, but also not someone you should have come across under normal circumstances." He sighed. "Unfortunately, this is something I have to follow up on, Harry. Did you find a book that told you about him?"
Harry carefully avoided looking at Dumbledore. "I haven't found such a book at Hogwarts. I read it somewhere else. What is it with this guy that is such a problem?"
The Headmaster leaned back in his seat. "You read about him somewhere else, aha. Well, it seems I need to talk to you about it, then. Thomas Byrne was a dark wizard in the late eighteenth century. Not evil in the strictest sense, mind you, and still within the laws of the time. He researched the nature of magic, for one, and delved very deep into the subject. He wrote a number of papers too complicated for anyone to understand save a few exceptionally bright minds. His contributions advanced many disciplines and helped form the understanding of magic as it is today. However, he also wrote a book, the one you were searching for, on the secrets of the mind. It changed the way mind magic was understood and taught, from Memory Charms to Occlumency and Legilimency, which is why all books that referenced him were removed from Hogwarts' Library –neither is an appropriate subject for students. His work is now considered a rare collector's work, almost priceless. And I ask you again: Where did you find the name?"
Harry stared at his Headmaster who looked sternly back. "Well, alright. I found this book when I was at... my house over the summer. Sirius seemed to have found it and left it in his room. It's about mind magic, Occlumency and Legilimency, you know? I took it." The occupants in the paintings shifted nervously for some reason. "That's where I found the name."
Dumbledore stroked his beard. "Ah. That would explain it, yes. Who else knows about this book?"
"Err, Bill saw it. Why?"
"Alright. He didn't mention it –hmm. I will have to speak with him," Dumbledore sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Should anyone ask, you destroyed the book the moment you learned what it was. You burned it until only the ashes remained."
Harry jumped to his feet. "Burn it? Are you...? It's damn useful, there's no way I'll destroy it!"
Silence reigned for a moment, until Dumbledore cleared his throat. "You, err, read it?"
Harry felt himself shrink under the stares he received from the paintings and the Headmaster. "I... yes?"
"And you... understood it? Put it to use, then?"
Put on the spot, Harry became nervous. He really didn't like being at the centre of attention, especially since he didn't know the reason, but he could tell there was some hidden meaning to his answer. "Yes? A part of it, in any case, just the... Why, what's going on?"
Dumbledore nodded slowly. "Well, you have made your life both easier and more difficult with that. So you have begun a bit of a project for... Charms, say? Did you find it instructive?"
"Charms," Harry deadpanned. "Sir, what are you talking about? I'm doing nothing for Charms. Not that I mind the subject, but... Why is it such an issue anyway? So I read the book. It doesn't have me on the edge of my seat, but it's alright. Hermione reads dozens, and no one is bothering her."
"Well, Harry, it is an issue, I'm saddened to say," Dumbledore spoke up, carefully weighing his words. "If you were to read the laws, you would find both the learning and teaching of Occlumency and Legilimency to be forbidden in Great Britain."
Harry jumped to his feet. "What? But last year..."
Dumbledore quickly raised his hand, and Harry found himself unable to speak. "You received Remedial Potions, remember? Professor Snape was kind enough to offer his help in that subject. And this year, you have taken up a Charms project that might prove to be very useful in your later life. Do not get used to calling it anything else. So tell me, did you progress well? Have you found access to the discipline?"
With his voice returned just as suddenly as it had gone, Harry said warily, "It's going alright? I'm currently... err... working out some kinks, getting routine in it? Sir, about Occlumency and Legilimency... are they really forbidden?"
Dumbledore smiled. "So you are developing your talents. That is nice to hear. It is a rather interesting field, and one only few really look into. To answer your question, yes, it is forbidden to learn or teach either discipline, and both are punished harshly. Can you imagine why?"
As Harry sat down, he thought about the question. "Are they dangerous? Tinkering with the mind could cause serious harm, right? That's what the... I thought when I did my project."
"It could be, yes, but that isn't the reason. No, Occlumency allows the citizens who have mastered it to have secrets from the Ministry, something it strongly disliked. Why would someone want to keep secrets from the Ministry if not because they plan to oppose it? Dissent forms in secrecy, Harry; there cannot be another reason for people wanting to protect their mind. For that reason, for the safety of the populace, and in order to hinder dissension, it was forbidden to teach or learn Occlumency as well as to possess the means to do either. The punishments for both are very harsh, years in Azkaban, as it is seen as attempted high treason.
"However, at the same time, the Ministry acknowledged the complications such a law would have. For one, those who already knew it couldn't simply be sent to prison for it. More importantly, though, the Ministry had secrets of its own to protect. That is why, even today, teaching and learning Occlumency and Legilimency is forbidden in Great Britain, the use of Occlumency, however, is still legal, albeit frowned upon. People go abroad to learn it, naturally. Of course, talking among accomplished Occlumens about the subject is also legal since both sides are already familiar with it."
"That's stupid, though. It ignores the whole sense behind the law."
"Has no one told you how much pureblood –and they were the driving force behind that law –like loopholes to abuse? Anyway, Legilimency is highly restricted and generally only allowed for Ministry personnel –after all, they might have to search for the secrets someone is trying to hide from the Ministry. But enough about the legal issues around those two disciplines. Do you think you will finish your Charms project?"
Harry bit his lip. He chose his words carefully, aware of the eyes staring down on him. "Well, I'm progressing quite well, better than I did with Snape's Remedial Potions last year. I guess a month or two and I should have it cracked."
"Well, I'm looking forward to seeing the results then. But enough dallying. I think it is time to continue with our lessons. Today, I have a memory you may find interesting. Last we met, I told you how Tom Riddle Senior had left his wife, Merope, and returned home. As you know from your second year, Tom Riddle Junior grew up in a Muggle orphanage. So let me enlighten you now about how that came to be. Merope, after her husband had left her, stayed in London. How she managed to survive, I do not know as I doubt she had a lot of money. It also seems as if she stopped using magic, perhaps because she resented that which had driven Riddle Senior away, or perhaps her heartbreak cost her the ability."
"That's possible?" Harry interrupted.
"If fear can hamper it, why shouldn't heartbreak block it? She was in London where, late in her pregnancy, she sold her necklace to Caractacus Burke of Borgin and Burke's. On New Year's Eve she showed up at the orphanage where Tom Riddle Junior grew up. Now then, let us enter the memory I have picked for tonight." Once the Pensieve rested on the table, both entered, leaving the room empty and silent.
After a moment, the painting of an unkempt wizard cleared his throat. "I spy with my little eye..."
His neighbour sighed. "Jacob, you're blind."
The painting of Jacob grumbled. "Anyone heard a good joke lately?"
An hour later, the surface of the Pensieve rippled. The paintings stopped their battle of wit and fell silent at once, and a moment later, Dumbledore and Harry reappeared.
"Sit down, Harry," the headmaster said.
"He believed it quicker than I did," Harry observed. "I didn't when Hagrid told me."
"Yes, Riddle believed it very quickly. He longed to be special, and being a wizard meant just that. I saw it, but I didn't recognize the danger it posed. Back then, I thought him to be an eager, ambitious child with a cruel streak. But then, we see it occasionally here at school, often in children from... less than ideal upbringings, mimicking the actions they witnessed. Cruelty begets cruelty. I intended to keep an eye on him, but didn't tell my colleagues. I didn't want to colour their impressions of him and give him a chance he might never have had before. You will also have noticed the extent of his abilities. He had already found a way to consciously use his magic to harm and terrorize. He had control over his magic before he arrived at school, a rare trait."
"And he had discovered Parseltongue," Harry pointed out.
"Yes, but it didn't trouble me as much as his talent and experience in harmful uses of magic. Parselmouths aren't evil or dark as such, and a lot of them probably led peaceful and productive lives without ever drawing attention to themselves. Slytherin himself was known to be judgmental and temperamental to the point that some of his contemporaries described him as malicious, but he also founded the school and certainly didn't spend his time butchering Muggles. Only a handful of his descendants were known for violence, yet the talent of Parseltongue passed down through the generations for a thousand years. No, Riddle's instincts for cruelty were more troubling for me.
"Before we part for the evening, I want to address certain characteristics of the young Riddle you have just seen.
"Firstly, he disliked being ordinary. When I mentioned Tom, the barman, young Riddle showed his contempt, one of the few emotions he showed in our encounter at all. He picked a new name for himself a few years after this meeting with me. He wanted to be special, and still does today.
"Secondly, he preferred to be independent. He didn't want my company. It is not unusual for both troubled and troubling children, but still a trait he showed back then. He was also secretive and intentionally distanced himself from others. He still does today, no matter what his followers may think.
"Thirdly, he already used fear rather than awe or love to control people. He still does today.
"Lastly, he collected trophies, worthless items he didn't use except to keep as reminders of his deeds."
"Which he still does today?" Harry finished the thought. "So, he's a thieving tyrant, who wants to be special and likes to work alone? Well, I'll have to deduct points for the stealing, but otherwise..."
Dumbledore smiled. "It is a good summary of his character. And yes, I do think he might collect trophies to remind him of his crimes."
"So he's also got a bad memory," Harry grumbled. "Maybe we should send him a Remembrall. Sir, is this really important?"
"I believe so, yes," Dumbledore replied. "Well then, Harry, please keep it in mind. And please do not spread the knowledge more than necessary."
"Yes, sir." Harry turned to leave, but stopped. "This is important, isn't it? Our lessons, these memories, they are of use?" Dumbledore nodded, and he continued, "Well, if they are and you already have the memories around, why don't we continue? It's still early. One more. The faster we're done with them, the faster we can make our move, the faster we can advance to the real preparations."
The Headmaster sighed. "While I admire your dedication, the next two memories will take a bit longer. They are also best seen on the same evening."
"Well, shouldn't we still continue with these lessons as soon as possible?" Harry asked. "Every day we don't act will cost lives, won't it? The sooner we stop him, the sooner the war ends and everyone is safe." He felt the piercing eyes of Dumbledore and decided, just to be on the safe side, to employ what little Occlumency he knew already.
"You are," the Headmaster said finally and with sorrow in his voice, "correct. Maybe I should speed up the process? I will think about it, but still, I want you to continue with your project. Both are important, and the more we advance our lessons here, the more important your skill in Charms will become."
Harry nodded, at walked to the door, but stopped once more. "Sir, there is nothing here. Last time, you had the ring, but today... nothing."
"You are correct. Good night, Harry."
Returning to the Common Room, Harry wanted to explain what he had learned to his friends. He didn't have time to search, though, as Ginny beckoned him over as soon as he had walked through the entrance. Curiosity getting the better of him, he strolled through the room and over to her.
"Evening, Harry," she greeted him lazily. Dean, who was sitting next to her, his arm around her waist, nodded to his dorm mate.
"Yeah, evening, you two. I've been looking for Ron and Hermione, I kind of expected them to be up," Harry told them.
Ginny smiled crookedly. "They're over in the corner," she pointed slowly in the general direction, "doing homework –or so they claim. Hermione more or less ordered Ron to get his stuff, and he did, but from the way they've been acting, I guess he doesn't really make any progress. Hermione's stayed silent for the last quarter of an hour, pretending to read. But every once in a while, she throws these hidden glances at him, half angry, half pining. And the bit that counts as his mind isn't really there, but then, I guess that's the norm."
"And he hasn't done anything at all about you two sitting here, in open view, looking quite... comfortable?" Harry asked, curious about it. He knew of the fragile peace between Ron and Dean.
"If he knows what's good for him, he'll stay out of my business," she hissed.
"Err, Ginny... this is Ron we're talking about," Dean pointed out. "The only remaining Big Brother of yours at school. He'll get protective even if it isn't healthy. And to be honest, I'd be a hypocrite if I would get angry with him because of that. Perhaps it's a guy thing or something..."
"Well, he still has no right to butt into my love life! Whom I date is no one's business but mine," Ginny growled.
Harry smiled at her. "And the boy's, kind of."
"If necessary, yes," she agreed earnestly. "But otherwise... I don't bother him, do I?" She ignored Harry's "Kind of" as well as Dean's nervous attempt to avoid her eye and continued, "Exactly, I don't. And I don't have any business telling the twins what do to or whom to pursue."
"And yet, you have still tried to. Repeatedly, even," Harry countered, but already knew she wouldn't listen. Ginny wasn't interested in the truth, but in being right. If she had to disregard facts to do so, then so be it. Harry wondered for a moment if this was a Weasley trait as both Ron had the same problem from time to time, but ignored his thoughts. It didn't matter either way.
"Because they are idiots," Ginny scoffed. "On whose side are you, anyway?"
"The twins', and Ron's," Harry replied without pause, but took a seat. His two best friends could wait for a moment. "Sorry, but us boys have to stick together."
"Well, you're an idiot, then, but that's hardly news, is it?" Ginny told him. Dean fought back a smile, but kept silent. "The point is they have no right to tell me whom I may date. Even if I were to, I don't know, snog Dean senseless right here and now..."
"Which sounds like a plan if you ask me," said boy added.
"... Ron should still better keep not bother me. It's not his business. Would you jump in? Would you stop Dean and I from snogging the living daylights out of one another?"
"The plan sounds better every second," Dean threw in.
"I'm not a Prefect," Harry pointed out. "As far as I'm concerned, you can do whatever you want. Within reason, of course, but then, there aren't any first-years you could traumatize, and Dean, I'm guessing you probably like being alive too much to really do something stupid."
The other boy waved it off. "Living is overrated if you ask me."
"You would only intervene if you were a Prefect?" Ginny asked, blinking.
"Or if you'd shock children with your despicable acts of debauchery," Harry replied, shortly adopting a snotty tone. "Well, you aren't my sister, so I can't really start the Big Brother act. By the way, Dean, be good, alright? Where was I? Oh, yes. So, I can't scare off your boyfriends, I'm not your guardian or parent, so I also don't have that reason to step in. But you are right, I would also have to intervene if you went too far and Dean needed rescue."
"For the record, don't rescue me, alright?" Dean said, drawing his girlfriend closer.
"So... you wouldn't jump in to protect my virtue?" Ginny asked, pouting.
"I doubt I'd need to, or that it would be my place to do so, or that there is much reason to," Harry replied with a wave of his hand. "But enough about that, you waved me over?"
"Oh, yes," she said, frowning. "Two things, actually. First of all, I may need a bit of help with my schoolwork."
"I'm probably the wrong one to ask," Harry cautioned, "it's not like I am that good."
"You still managed to get an Exceeds Expectations in Potions, despite Snape's lessons," Ginny replied.
"That was simply luck, in a way. Without him breathing down my neck, Hermione's help beforehand, and my experience with mixing stuff under the scrutinizing glare of someone, not to mention my exceptional talent for cooking," Harry said with a roll of his eyes, "it just happened. I wouldn't have thought it possible, but there you go. But you know it is about equal parts theory, which you have to learn, and practical skill, something that comes with talent and experience."
"Alright, I get it," Ginny grumbled, "I'll ask Hermione then. Just thought I might spread my tutors a bit." She ignored Harry's quirked eyebrow and continued, "Secondly, I didn't want you to disturb my entertainment. Dean and I are waiting who will crack first, Ron or Hermione, and if you had walked over to them, they'd have stopped focusing on each other and dodging the responsibility of making the first step."
"Ah, well, that sounds like a noble reason," Harry chuckled. "And here I thought you had something important to relay from your parents or something."
"What do I look like, an owl?" Ginny protested.
Harry sighed. "No, but I know Ron doesn't really correspond with his parents so you are more likely to know something."
"How was he by the way?" Dean asked. Seeing the blank looks, he elaborated, "Detention with Snape, that's where you were, right?"
"Oh, that! Not today, actually," Harry replied. "Something came up, Snape couldn't do it." He would have to find out who had given him that alibi. It was both believable and reusable with how often Snape and Harry were at odds.
October went by without another lesson. However, Harry had still been very busy. For one, he had continued with his Occlumency training. Close to Halloween, he had had a breakthrough when he had been able to draw up his rudimentary defences without any noticeable decrease in mental capability. He had therefore begun improving them, adding layers and warnings.
Classes had also become more difficult, and with nonverbal casting required in almost all of them, Harry had seen a decrease in his performance. Not saying the incantations felt wrong somehow, as if something was missing even if the spells still worked. With the help of the Half-blood Prince, he had been keeping up in Potions, though, and with the time he didn't have to spend reading up on the class like he had needed to the past years, he had shifted his studying to Charms and Transfiguration. Much to Snape's frustration, Harry continued to show his exceptional talent in Defence against the Dark Arts, easily making up for his problems with nonverbal casting with speed and precision.
Of course, the biggest drain on his time had been Quidditch, much to Hermione's dislike. To everyone's surprise, Malfoy had resigned and made room for a replacement. A third year, Whipple, had taken over. Sharp-eyed, slender as a broom, he had little problem in the air or with sharp turns. Ron had been annoyed –a good Slytherin Seeker had made their match more challenging. Harry, however, had been happy. While he definitely liked winning, he preferred the challenge. Playing Slytherin had always been fighting against their continued cheating, including attempted attacks on players to take them out of commission or the interference of Snape. Playing Hufflepuff meant fair and occasionally capable players like Cedric had been one. Playing Ravenclaw was a constant attempt to outthink them, preparing dozens of ploys since each one only worked at most twice.
However, a capable Slytherin Seeker had proved to be an interesting rival. True, with years of experience backing him, Harry had caught the Snitch in their first match, but he had still seen Whipple's potential. With just over six weeks of training, the boy had done splendidly. Even better, however, had been his behaviour on the field. True, from what Harry had heard, he was occasionally nasty in class, but during the game, he had stayed well within the rules, a very welcome change from Malfoy. Harry had still caught the Snitch.
With surprisingly good weather for mid-November in Scotland, Harry had scheduled practice for the day, but found himself regretting it. Every muscle was still aching. True, he loved flying, enough to bear with the responsibility of Captaincy, especially since it was very demanding. As Seeker, he never had to be in top form, unlike the other players, but as Captain, he had to join them in all their muscle training, and since the other players needed strong upper bodies as well, he had to endure those exercises as well.
Just hours before, he had spent over two hours on the field, getting his players in form and then forcing endless repeats of plays on them, until, at three, Hufflepuff had arrived. Normally, that would have meant the end of it, but with Hufflepuffs being friendly and eager to test their strength, they had arranged a quick game between the teams that lasted another two and a half hours. Since no Snitch had been released, both Seekers had spent their time trying to outfly one another or act as human Bludgers. It had also meant straining both players and material to the limit.
As expected, both Hufflepuff and Gryffindors had played very well, stressing teamwork and fast paced plays. As a result, Ron had gotten a lot of pressure which had been painful to watch and absolutely necessary. He was still unreliable, occasionally playing unbelievably well and other times missing the easiest of catches. Still, after all was said and done, the teams had met on the ground and had congratulated each other.
Maybe he should do something with the other teams, Harry mused. Perhaps they could arrange a meeting on the next Hogwarts weekend? It might be fun, talking about Quidditch and enjoying time with the Hufflepuffs. The Ravenclaws were usually a bit serious, but still reasonably friendly. But then, they'd have to invite the Slytherins as well, and he somehow doubted it was a good idea to force them in the same room. Probably Gryffindors and Slytherins would only glare at each other, but stubbornly refuse to leave and let the others be victorious.
His eyes wandered over the common room. A lot of people were still at dinner, Ron being one of them. Hermione had retreated to a corner and read up on some obscure theory. Peakes and Coote were sitting in a corner, glaring half-heartedly at their Captain. Harry would have to give them a bit of time to forgive him. Furthermore, he really wanted to lean back and relax, and in a moment, he knew what he wanted to do. It was odd, really, how long it had taken him to think of it, especially since Hermione had told Ginny all about the Prefects' bathroom. Why she had done that, Harry didn't know. Ginny was not a Prefect and shouldn't enter it (Harry conveniently ignored his own excursion in fourth year). Maybe Hermione had simply wanted to tease her friend about it? Additionally, he hadn't pegged his bushy-haired friend to be one to talk about beauty or the many scented lotions available.
In any case, Harry had a goal in mind. He quickly made his way to the fifth floor. If he didn't waste any time, he would have about two hours until he'd have to be back in Gryffindor Tower around half past nine. Of course, since Harry followed Dumbledore's advice, he carried his invisibility cloak with him, so he wouldn't be caught either way. The Fat Lady wouldn't tell on him, she never did anyway, being more loyal to the house than the school. The patrols in school wouldn't see him as long as he didn't run into Mad-Eye. And even if he did, as long as Harry stayed vigilant, he might get away with it since Moody seemed to be the type to follow the intention of a law, not the letter.
Reaching his goal, Harry cast a quick glance around. True, he was allowed to enter since Quidditch Captains shared the privilege for an equally as obscure reason as the Prefects having a reserved bathroom in the middle of the school. But then, he really didn't want anyone overhearing the password. No one in sight, he murmured, "Eggleby" and ducked in. It was just as he remembered, from the smell in the air to the stalls on one side to the swimming pool-like tub on the other with the dozing mermaid made by Rosemary Eggleby on the wall behind it. But he frowned. The tub was filled, and the surface still covered thickly with bubbles, yet no one was there.
"Hello?" he called out and waited.
No answer came. Odd. Then again, Harry really didn't have that much experience with the bathroom, and it was entirely possible the tub was usually filled. Last time, he had snuck in after curfew; maybe the elves cleaned it over night? They had to at some time. At least, Harry hoped they did. Even if wizards weren't always the smartest bunch in the world, they had to have thought of that.
"Hello? Anyone here?"
Still nothing. Well, who was he to object a ready-made bath? He quickly disrobed, careful to wrap one of the towels around his waist. Even if he was technically alone, he still didn't want Myrtle to see anything should she decide to, once again, pop in unannounced.
Fortunately, she didn't. As he stepped into the water, he welcomed the warmth running over his body. Yes, this had been a brilliant idea. He could already feel his fatigue leaving as he waded through the water. Instead, his mind returned once more to the riddle of the Prefects' bathroom. Why had the Founders thought to include it? Had they, or had it been a later addition? And more importantly, why had the creators decided to include a tub of such an outrageous size in an easily accessible bathroom without the means to lock it? His mind wandered a bit, and he imagined the kind of misbehaviour taking place where he was. He really hoped the elves cleaned the room regularly.
Or maybe that was why it couldn't be locked? To ensure discipline, the threat of potential visitors in the middle of... well, naughtiness might be an intentional aspect of the design of the Prefects' bathroom. He certainly wouldn't act out if he had to fear Malfoy or Parkinson walking in on him. Then again, should the Prefects agree on some form of pact not to rat each other out...
How fortunate he had grown since his last visit to the bathroom so that his feet could reach the bottom, he thought, trying hard not to think about Malfoy and Parkinson coming to the bathroom and wishing he knew at least who had patrol duty later on. It would be his luck to be caught unawares by them, wouldn't it? Maybe he should follow Luna's example and put his wand behind his ear? But then, he reasoned, he was already halfway through the tub –what a weird thought, he realised –and doubling back up on the off-chance Malfoy and Parkinson had duty and chose to check on the bathroom...
Before he could finish his thought, his foot stubbed against something big and soft. Harry blinked confusedly and looked down, seeing nothing but the bubbles. How odd. Did the tub have seats in its middle like some pools did? He couldn't remember –last time he had concentrated on the egg and, admittedly, Myrtle. She'd probably be euphoric to know she had left such a strong impression, and at once, Harry vowed not to tell her or anyone else. Knowing his luck, someone would tell Witch Weekly about the Boy-Who-Lived thinking about the ghost girl while he was in the bathtub.
Still his thoughts didn't solve the mystery at his feet. He felt around with his foot. Whatever it was, his initial thoughts were spot on. It was big, heavy even, if he had to guess, since he couldn't push it away with his foot, but seemed rather soft, like a cushion, in a way –too soft for a seat, at least. His curiosity getting the better of him, he dove in and looked down. For a wild second, he thought he had stumbled upon a mermaid lazily staring at the surface, her hair lazily wafting around her, before he remembered they wouldn't come to the Prefects' bathroom. Nor, now that he thought about it, did merpeople have pale, human faces or eyes. Then, his mind came to a screeching halt as the implications set in.
Ah, finally got the explanation about the Mind Arts out there. I'd guess Bill might have learned about the Mind Arts somewhere on his journeys and knew just what the book meant. So there you go, Harry's got himself a Charms project for the time being.
