Disclaimer: I own nothing. HP belongs to JKR
Thank you for all the reviews, and alerts and favorites, and all that wonderful ego boosting stuff! You people have really kept me alive this past week. School has been more hectic than usual and I'm struggling with a cold on top of it. It's been miserable to say the least. Anyway, thank you so much!
Enjoy this extra-long chapter.
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Chapter 10: The Goblet of Fire
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It was very early in the morning. It was so ungodly early, that not even Peeves and Mrs. Norris could be seen skulking about. Harry waited patiently in a dark corner of the Great Hall hiding behind the large tapestry of the Hogwarts crest displayed upon the wall directly behind the staff table. He waited in silence for the fake Moody to drop Neville's name into the Goblet of Fire and then leave.
Tonight had been somewhat of a stake out. He wanted to see who was placing their names into the overlarge cup, as well as keep an eye out for the nefarious Barty Crouch Jr. With a very strong disillusionment charm and quite a few notice-me-not charms, Harry observed the seventeen year old students from all three schools nervously adding their names. He also had a good laugh at the Weasley twin's attempt at passing over the age line, and made a mental note to invest in their joke shop when he got the chance.
Harry knew that no charms would fool Moody's magical eye, so when the night was growing later and fewer students made an appearance, he asked, as sweetly as he could, if his magic would be oh so kind as to shield him from sight, even from that dreaded magic eye. And, after much squirming and gasp stifling, the magic obliged.
By now the Great Hall was empty and dark. The only light came from the stars dotting the enchanted ceiling, and the cool glow of magic surrounding the Goblet. Cool, blue flames licked welcomingly along the wooden edges, casting strange shadows upon the walls.
Harry made his way over to the Goblet, stopping before the age ring. It turned a bright red color as he approached, shrinking a little, but it did not dissipate. He made to step over the line cautiously, and winced when hot flames rose around his ankle.
"I am of age." Harry said calmly, waiting for a response. His ankle throbbed with pain. The magic flared a bit, swirling like smoke and ash. "I would like to pass." Once again Harry made to take a step forward, but fire held him back.
"I wish… you wouldn't hurt me. I am running out of burn-healing paste, and I can not always grit my teeth through the pain you cause. I know I have no say in the way you treat me. But I still think for my self, and I dislike it when you hurt me. And I know you must be tired of me asking, but will you please stop burning me? Snape will get angry if I have to keep barrowing from him."
"Why still so insolent?" came a whisper, and the age ring spun together, weaving a figure or light, the color of hot coals. This time the voice did not come from within, but from the light shifting into a shape somewhat resembling a human, maybe.
"I-insolent?" Harry stepped back from the uncomfortable heat in surprise. The elements had never, not even once, spoken allowed, nor had they ever taken human form. Harry did not have to guess which element stood before him, as a mirror image of him self, glowing like dying embers. Fire spoke:
"You are so certain, acting as though we will always bow to you and your commands. Do you know no humility?"
"I am… sorry you think that of me. I am sorry if that is what I-," Harry looked away from Fire, turning his face away to the cool dark. He did not know what to say in order to be forgiven, other than the standard 'I'm sorry.' But Harry had been trying so hard to understand the fire element for the last month, and he still did not know whether it was angry with him or jealous or if it was simply playing around. "I don't mean to be insolent." He said quietly.
"The others are… quite fond of you, and I see you pull and twist them into submission, but you will not have me so easily."
"I am in need of you, and all of you, and I try to be mindful of asking rather than commanding, and I may expect more than you are willing to give, but I know not to complain. I trust the magic's judgments. I am afraid, that I do not understand what you want from me. You hurt me, but I do not know what I've done wrong. Tell me what I must do so that you might approve of me. I can not take this endlessly."
"You speak to your wizard kind so confidently, that you may bypass magic law because you are ours. What will you do should we disallow your admittance?" Harry's face fell, heart throbbing in tandem with his burn, loud and painful against his ribs. What would he do? Dumbledore would expel him, and then Cedric would still die, and…
And Harry blinked the beginning of tears away in frustration and shook his head to clear his thoughts.
"I realize… that this is purely selfish of me." Harry tried to make his voice steady, but it came out a bit more ragged than he had intended. "I know that saving Cedric from this is… is really just so I can repay his memory. I-if I am truly not meant to change fate…" Harry swallowed, and looked briefly upon the heat reflection of him self before looking away again. "I have to try. I have always been like this, and I can't just let him die. I can't just let all of those people suffer again if I can change it. Please let me change it. I can not bear to live through that again. Please."
"You are cowardly and insolent. I still cannot see what the others see."
"I am sorry that I am not… not good enough." Because, Harry never was. He was never good enough. He always made stupid mistakes and always made a nuisance of himself. He had gone into the Mage's Path all but completely blind, knowing that his only hope for destroying Voldemort lay with gifted power, because despite what Dumbledore said, Harry could not believe that love would destroy something so purely evil and so purely strong. After loosing Sirius, Harry found he could no longer stand to loose anyone else, and yet he did, and it had driven him near mad trying to discover a way to overcome his enemy. He did not care about consequences. He gave him self over to magic with the expectation that the final encounter would kill him. He had not intended any of what happened afterwards. "I'm sorry," he said again, "But other people are counting on me. Will you please let me pass?"
Fire stood before him in silence for a moment, and then moved, unlike any true living thing, not walking but still it moved closer in a manor that only light might obtain. Harry flinched away when Fire's human shaped fingers lightly brushed the skin beneath his eye. In minor irritation, the same hand gripped Harry's hair and forcibly turned his head back to face the figure, and surprisingly, though Fire's body was near unbearably hot, that which came into contact with Harry's skin was not scalding.
"Do not forget you belong to me, coward." Fire's voice became low, but it was still a near whisper.
"I trust that you will remind me should ever you think I forget." Harry closed his eyes to the light and heat, breathing the thick air. His body was shaking and sweaty.
"I will let you by, because you speak well. I find that I can not decide if I should be angered or amused by you. You woke us, you foolishly interested us, and you are still so naïve to what you have become. Prove to me you are worth keeping, and I will perhaps listen to your requests more often. Pathetic child," And with that, the heat vanished and the age line parted around Harry, allowing him to step up to the Goblet of Fire and place his name within.
"Thank you," Harry ran his fingers over the wooden ridge of the cup. "I'm sorry, I am. I'll try to be a better Mage. I'll try harder to be good."
Harry offered one last look at the cup before leaving the Great Hall. Quietly, he returned to his dormitory and slipped into his bed without waking his dorm mates. His heart ached and his throat felt tight, and he thought he almost wouldn't mind if he fell asleep and never woke up. At least then it would be over. At least then he didn't have to keep struggling day after day, trying to fix everything that went wrong the first time around. But Harry was stronger than that. He would get up tomorrow, but for now, hopefully he could attempt to catch a few hours of sleep before Friday morning classes.
XXXXX
"Harry," Wayne's voice paraded through Harry's dreams, pulling him back into consciousness. He had slept through breakfast, getting up only to go to classes before going back to sleep. He had forgotten how a fourteen-year-old body needed ten or more hours of sleep a night, and so breakfast and lunch had passed without his notice.
As Harry continued to ignore the boy and hide his head under the sheets, Wayne became frustrated. Without more warning than a "get up, Harry," the covers were torn from his body and a rush of cold air passed over his bear legs. He yelped and sat up glaring at the offending roommate.
"What's the deal?" Harry scowled, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Classes are over for the day,"
"But the Champions are going to be announced."
"So?" Harry itched to summon the blankets back onto his bed, but knew that he should go watch the announcement anyway. He needed to be there so he could see the look on Dumbledore's face when he discovered Harry's scheme to remain at Hogwarts.
"Don't you want to see who gets chosen? I hope its Cedric."
"He would make a brilliant Hogwarts Champion," Harry conceded, sliding off the bed quietly.
"Hey, what happened to your ankle?" Wayne threw the covers back onto the bed. Harry glanced down at his feet, and sure enough, blistered and red skin coiled around his ankle.
"Oh. I forgot to put something on it. I am getting a lot of burns lately…" he sighed and rummaged though his trunk for the last of the burn-healing paste. There was not enough to cover the entire area, but it helped.
"Now that you mention it, you have been getting burns a lot. And here I thought all of your clumsiness disappeared. You should be more careful." If Wayne thought Harry wanted a lecture, the idiot could guess again. Harry gave a non committal grunt and started dressing him self.
XXXXX
"And this year's Hogwarts Champion is…." Dumbledore unfolded the piece of paper carefully, "H-," He paused, swaying as if off balance, "Harry Potter."
The hall became very quiet, but no table was quieter than Hufflepuff. Wayne elbowed him in the ribs, and of course Harry already knew his name would be called, but he dare not stand, for even as Dumbledore would realize his act of rebellion, this did not mean the rest of the school needed to know. Dumbledore needed to appear as if he did not understand why his name was called, because of the risks of letting other persons know about the fact that Harry was not from this particular word or time, and also, perhaps, because it was always best to appear as if he could handle any situation calmly and efficiently.
He had to appear the great leader, in a Machiavellian sort of way, for politics was less concerned with reality than with the outward appearance of morality and strength. For a moment, Harry wondered if he had been fooled by his world's Dumbledore, but he reminded himself that his Dumbledore had died and also that there was no point in agonizing over something he could not change. If he ever found a way back to his own world, he would at least be able to see things with an open mind, and prevent, if possible, the continued Hogwarts house stereotypes.
"This… He's fourteen! How on earth did-," But Karkaroff was interrupted abruptly when another paper shot from the cup, its edges scorched on the corners. Harry knew already whose name would be found written on the small scrap. The hall became even more silent, if that were possible, the students and staff waiting with baited breath to hear the name.
"Neville Longbottom." Dumbledore read, a little more strongly, but he still looked as if he would collapse. The silence fled the hall then, and suddenly voices filled the space, loudly and opinionated. The words 'outrage,' and 'both fourteen,' and 'that idiot?' were heard repetitively.
Harry watched Dumbledore carefully, and noticed his brow furrowing in thought. And then, as if finally realizing what all of this meant, the old man turned to look directly at him in shock. Harry could only offer him a grim look of determination. Dumbledore did not look away as he raised his wand to his throat, casting a sonorus.
"SILENCE," The command boomed across the hall, effectively quieting the mass of people. With the hall quiet, he pulled the wand from his throat and spoke in a tired voice, "Would all of the champions come with me please."
Harry finally made to stand, watching as Neville looked to his friends for guidance. Eventually the boy-who-lived stood and walked with him after Dumbledore and the other champions.
Once they all gathered into Dumbledore's office, the headmaster motioned them to be seated. Just as they sat down, Igor and Madame Maxine rushed into the office, complaints on their lips.
"Albus, I do not understand-,"
"Dumbledore, this is absurd! Fourteen-year-olds cannot-,"
"Sir, and Madame, I am afraid, there is nothing to be done." Dumbledore took a seat behind his desk, "These four are bound to participate by magical contract. There names were selected."
"It is dangerous!"
"Preposterous!"
"Mr. Longbottom, did you put your name into the Goblet?" Dumbledore asked, already knowing the answer.
"No sir,"
"He's lying!" Karkaroff accused.
"I'm not! Why would-,"
"Please, ladies, gentlemen." Dumbledore allowed some of his magic to flow into his words that only Harry and Fleur seemed to notice. The effect was a calming one, and Harry did not see any point in disrupting it. Fleur wrinkled her nose but said nothing. Harry suspected she, because of her heritage, was more sensitive to emotional and empathetic magics than most other witches and wizards. "Mr. Potter, did you put your name into the Goblet?" His blue eyes were frosty and cold and Harry frowned, wondering why he was so angry. Did he think he put Neville's name in?
"What do you think, Sir?" Harry raised an eyebrow, "There is an age line. Fourth years can't cross it," Harry remained expressionless, determined not to give anything away to the others. A light probe of legilimency gently pushed at his shields, asking for entrance instead of demanding, however instead of allowing the man into his thoughts, he projected them instead, 'I did put my name in the Goblet, and I know who put Neville's name in as well. I do not think I should tell you who it is, and I have no cause to help you any longer after your attempt to expel me. You may consider this act my civil disobedience. I am bound by magic, and I will remain at Hogwarts for the rest of this year, or until the tournament is over. After that, you may expel me, and I will leave without quarrel. I am not you enemy, and no longer am I your friend.' The man looked away, rubbing the bridge of his nose as though he had a head ache.
"I see. At this point in time, it would appear that there are four champions."
"I do not see what is fair about this!" Madame Maxine huffed indignantly.
"Well, they are only fourteen." Dumbledore soothed, and it seemed to work, because then there was very little argument, except over Neville, who had been flushing deep red the entire time. The headmasters of the foreign schools demanded to see his grades and asked about his activities, getting a good idea what they were up against, they however, did not bother with Harry's grades.
After a debriefing of the tournament rules and regulations, and other helpful information, Dumbledore allowed the students to be absconded by Rita Skeeter into an empty classroom while he negotiated with Karkaroff and Madame Maxine.
The woman was on them like a fly on carrion. However, before she got to Neville with her questions, Harry leaned over and whispered a warning in Neville's ear.
"Beware. She'll twist whatever you say. Try not to say anything that might be held against you."
"Mr. Longbottom," The woman gushed, her quill already scribbling acid green ink over parchment. Harry discretely disabled the ink flow of the quill, but knew that act alone would not be enough to stop her, "How does it feel to be a Hogwarts Champion?"
"Er…" Neville looked back at Harry nervously.
"No, no dear, look here. Now, are you excited about competing? What is it like to be the youngest-,"
"We are both fourteen, ma'am." Harry interrupted, forcing his expression into something depicting deep regret, "I am so sorry, but you will have to interview someone else for now, Neville and I have to meet someone. Maybe he will set up an interview with you another time. This whole thing came as quite a shock to both of us, so I hope you understand."
"But-,"
"Thank you. I'm so glad." Harry forcibly grabbed Neville and shoved him out of the room, giving one last look towards the reporter. The look he gave her was one of malice that promised retribution if she crossed him. But Harry knew that it was probably going to be disregarded anyhow, and he would need to be on the lookout.
"Er… thank's Potter."
"Harry."
"Right, thanks Harry."
"Don't mention it. That woman would take whatever you say and make you sound like a fool. And be careful about what you say to others, because information has a way of… leaking."
"You're pretty paranoid, Harry," Neville smiled, "You don't have to worry about me so much. I've dealt with the press almost all my life. Though, I suppose nothing as controversial at this."
"Yes, well. It would appear that you've never been interviewed by Skeeter before," Harry shrugged, "She's not a witch to cross, and when at all possible, avoid her."
"Got it," Neville scratched the back of his head, "So… are you really meeting someone?"
"Well… no." Harry said. "I don't have any plans except homework… and avoiding everyone else. I'm pretty sure no one is going to be happy about all this."
"Want to sneak into the kitchens and grab something to eat?"
"Seriously?" Harry grinned, "Is that the best hiding place you can come up with?"
"Oh, well, I suppose I could share a few secret passages with you, as long as you promise not to tell any one else about them."
"Sure. That might be fun." Harry grinned and let Neville lead the way.
XXXXX
Harry had avoided the school population and hid with Neville, Ron and Hermione, doing homework and playing exploding snap, or just talking about silly things. They found an out of the way classroom on the sixth floor and Harry helped Hermione ward the doors from unwanted people. Ron disappeared after an hour or so to grab food and escape the lengthy study session, but when he returned he had brought with him a sullen and withdrawn attitude. Harry knew what was going to happen, and also knew nothing he could say would be able to change it. Ron finally blew up at Neville for being a champion and always hogging all the glory and for supposedly lying to him about putting his name in to the goblet. In the end, he stormed loudly out of the room, probably to seek out sympathizers. Neville looked pained and resigned as Hermione went after Ron in an attempt to calm him down.
"He will come around. When he sees what we have to face, he won't envy you any longer." Harry said reassuringly
"You're probably right." Neville swallowed, "I guess I should be getting back to the common room.
XXXXX
Harry spent most of his weekend trying to get his homework finished for Monday and lurking in out-of-the-way parts of the castle. He had missed quite a few meals avoiding a few older students from Gryfindor and Ravenclaw. There was a good chance that they were not looking for him just to talk. But Harry could only miss so many meals, and hiding away from the world was not going to help matters. No one from Hufflepuff had spoken to him, although, he only truly noticed their blatant dismissal of his existence when he went to dinner.
As he entered the Great Hall, he endured the sideways looks of hatred and loathing from the students, and discovered, to his dismay, that no one in Hufflepuff had saved him a seat. They sat in such a way that there was no room, even on the very ends of the table, and when Harry tried to interrupt a conversation to ask for a spot, they merely spoke louder in attempt to ignore him.
Harry became frustrated, and felt the edges of anger stirring from within his soul, his fingernails digging into his palms. He wanted to hex Wayne most of all, for his betrayal, but then thought that, perhaps they all saw it as though he betrayed them. Even if that were the case, Harry would have liked it better if they had given him the chance to explain, but rather than give him the benefit of the doubt, they all just jumped to the conclusion that he broke the rules and put his name in the Goblet of Fire just to spite them.
Wayne, he thought, might have stood by him, but as it turned out, he was a fair-weather-friend, ignoring him like the others. He followed the herd, and Harry would remember that. He wanted to yell at his housemates for being ignorant morons, and say exactly what he thought of them. So much for Hufflepuff loyalty…
People were always like this, always turning and hiding and scurrying like bugs, like bees in a hive. Envying and wanting for glory but too lazy to achieve it. Their revolting, disgraceful mindlessness, following the popular consensus without question, without thought.
But…
Harry closed his eyes and exhaled loudly, giving into empathy. They were only kids. They knew nothing of his motives, and with the other Harry's reputation, there was no reason for them to not to be thoroughly miffed. They were ignorant, but that was not a crime. None of them knew yet, what sort of evil plotting was invested in this tournament, but come the end of the year, they would hopefully have to acknowledge the danger of this war, and that he was not playing games.
He gave a nod to the Hufflepuff table, not for any particular purpose except perhaps to mentally tally the people against him. Then he turned to leave.
"Potter," Pansy stepped in front of him, "I'm afraid we missed you at lunch." Harry eyed her warily. Her eyes gleamed with something verging on mirth, but also with caution and vigilance.
"I was hiding, if you must know," Harry offered a sigh and glanced up at her through dark lashes.
"Does it surprise you that everyone has turned on you?" She asked.
"No, I suppose not," Harry frowned, "It still hurts though. I never knew how heartless and judgmental my own housemates could be." His hands fisted and his body trembled in helpless anger, "But, I'll show them. I'll show them this tournament that is supposed to be about glory and school pride is just a sham. I'll show them that this is war, and they… and they will acknowledge me, and they will know that this is not a game."
"I think," Pansy said, "that you might have done well in Slytherin, but you wear your emotions so plainly, I can see why you were sorted into Hufflepuff." Harry grinned ruefully, thinking that, no he was not a Hufflepuff, but a foolhardy Gryfindor. Her eyes suddenly narrowed, as if saying, you know something you are not saying.
"The sorting hat said as much… I've got cunning in loads," He offered when her eyes sharpened.
"Why not join us for dinner?" She offered, still looking thoughtful. Harry ignored the look. He didn't know if it would be politically adventitious to take a seat at another table, but then he shrugged it off and followed her. It isn't as if their hatred matters at this point, he thought despairingly. They would come around or not, but there were obviously more important things to worry about than his idiot housemates.
XXXXX
Snape followed him out of the hall and down to the dungeons, and all the while Harry was biting his lip nervously, knowing that this man was about to ask some super embarrassing questions and make him describe equally embarrassing things.
"Mr. Potter," Harry heaved a great sigh at the familiar sound of his professor's voice, thinking that he would rather be speaking to McGonagall about this sort of thing… but then again, maybe not. The potions professor took a seat behind his desk. Snape's office, small as it was, felt even smaller by the volume of books stacked in towers surrounding his desk and between strange creature-like bookends on shelves bowing under their sheer weight; and Harry, never having been in Snape's actual office, was surprised by the chaotic clutter, of potion dissertations and untitled volumes – probably dark – and so many other subjects. The man was an utter genius, he knew, but he had always been so meticulous, and this scene sort of ruined the image.
"Sir?"
"Take a seat," Snape waved his wand and moved a stack of books that had been occupying a chair, presumably one for guests. Once Harry was seated, Snape leaned forward, peering at him in quiet examination, "I would like to know more about the incident in the corridor and why your magic was attempting to strangle another student." Harry heaved another great sigh.
"You would know what my being a mage means by now?" Harry asked. At the professor's hesitant nod, Harry continued, "Well, you see… Miss Delacour can sense how her thrall affects other people, and because I am not a wizard, and because I belong to magic, her thrall doesn't work on me the same way as it might on a wizard. She had no idea what I was, so I won't blame her, but…" Harry paused to rub a sore spot on the back of his neck where his magic was pinching him moodily, "She tried to focus her thrall on me because I was unaffected, and… because of her curiosity, my magic sort of rose to my defense, although, I suppose not really. It was angry at Fleur for trying enthrall me, but I think it was even angrier at me because I knew she was half Veela, and I think, it was angry because I let her sit next to me. Maybe… it was jealous?"
"But you do not know this for certain?"
"Well, no… the magic… doesn't usually communicate with words and so, I get confused because I don't know, and I end up getting hurt because I misunderstand."
"With words?"
"Well, some times it will communicate in my head like… well like in the corridor, but not very often, and if it does, it is very… simple speech. Maybe one or two words at a time, and it can be hard to understand. It has only spoken aloud to me once. And… it was…" He trailed off unable to find the words.
"And that… scene in the corridor?" Snape looked ridiculously fascinated, like Harry was some sort of new puzzle to figure out, or maybe a new sort of potion reaction waiting to be deciphered.
"Ah…" Harry flushed, "Another anomaly that I find myself wondering about. It doesn't really make sense, but I think that part of the magic is infatuated with me, and I don't know why. Sometimes, I think it is just fooling around with me, other times it's serious," Harry thought about Fire and shivered, remembering the powerful heat against his skin, "At first, the elements simply interacted with me, like I might interact with… well a professor. It was more of a professional arrangement; at least, that's what I thought. But after I survived the-," Harry blinked, and mentally berated himself for his near slip, "After I survived the summer, which I had not expected to, I didn't know what to do. So long as I serve the elements, or rather, so long as I live, I thought I may as well learn about them. So I started talking with stones, or I sat out by the lake… just little things, because I had time… because I am not overly fond of reading if I don't have to… And, I guess… maybe that professional relationship has changed? I probably should have done some more reading."
"Perhaps," Snape said mildly, "There are very few books on mages, and those that exist are very old." Snape said, "I have not discovered much of the specifics, only that being a mage is widely frowned upon."
"Well, I don't see why." Harry shrugged, "Malfoy accused me of being less than human, and I don't think that was fair. It isn't like he is one hundred percent wizard either." He winced a little when Snape raised an eyebrow.
"And what have you and Mr. Malfoy been discussing?" Harry watched the man give him a suspicious look, knowing that he must be trying very hard to resist using legilimency.
"We… have been talking," Harry looked at the man out from under dark lashes. Snape's lips became a thin line, but he looked as though he would not press it.
"I may have to do some research in more unsavory libraries to find more information on mages and the elements." Snape had a thoughtful frown on his face, "I have one last question before I send you to the potions classroom to disembowel toads. Why did you decide to become a mage, without even knowing what consequences you faced? What sort of foolish child are you?" His dark eyes had no trouble making Harry flinch his gaze away, partly in shame, but also partly reflex from occlumency lessons. After a few minutes of worrying his lip and playing with the hems of his sleeves, Harry finally answered.
"I was desperate." He shifted uncomfortably, "My options were limited and I had great need." It was not a lie, no, but Snape would ask for more, Harry knew.
"And what great need could you possibly have had?" the professor said smoothly.
"I can't answer that, sir." Harry bowed his head, watching the man warily from beneath his fringe of dark hair.
"Why not?"
"The same reason I would tell no one of the position you hold, or why I say nothing of the Order." Harry's eyebrows drew together, thinking of the headmaster. The man might decide to try coercing the information from him. In Dumbledore's mind, he was more or less a liability to the Order of the Phoenix. He would have to be careful at any rate. Harry did not believe the man would try to hurt him, but then again…
"The toads are in a crate next to the first table in the classroom. I would like you to separate the organs into the jars as labeled, is that clear enough instruction?"
"Yes sir,"
"Then please begin your task. I will come get you when your time is up."
Harry nodded and left to peel toad skin, thinking that maybe, just maybe, Snape would let him be. But knowing Snape, he would probably be watching him very closely. On the plus side, Snape likely had access to books Harry would never see in his life time, and if he found out more about mages, then Harry might be able to finally understand what he had unknowingly become.
XXXXX
The following evening Harry found the Slytherins lurking around the second floor. They looked up as he approached, and Harry thought that the whole thing was pretty suspicious looking. Had anyone else been in the corridor it would not have taken calculus to figure out something was up. But luckily, no professors were prowling about nor were any students in sight.
Without a word to anyone, Harry walked into the girl's toilet. Pansy and Millicent were first to enter and following them were Draco, Blaise, Vincent and Greg. They had not brought anyone else.
"It will be just us for now," Pansy dug around in her robe pocket and pulled out a miniature Nimbus two-thousand-and-one and proceeded to enlarge it, "We should set this up first, and check out more of what you have to offer. We can bring other people in after we figure out what we are going to do."
"Sure," Harry shrugged and pulled out the broom he had used on the night of his detention with McGonagall. The little piece of wood was humming in the palm of his hand. He hoped no one would notice that it was missing before he returned it to the broom shed. Harry closed his eyes for a bit and turned towards the tap that did not work. 'Open.' The hiss was quiet, but in the tile-walled room, the sounds were magnified and echoed. He could hear the others stiffen, robe sleeves sliding over skin, and breaths being held. Harry watched their reactions out of the corner of his eyes, perhaps a little self conscious about his talent. They were all awe stricken, and maybe a little terrified.
Only… They did not step back or even lean away. They looked intensely fascinated, with wide eyes focused on him.
Hermione and Ron had assured him that Parseltongue was indeed one of the scariest things they had ever heard. It wasn't something Harry liked to share with other people.
"Let's go." He quickly enlarged his broom and dropped down the dark pipe, broom at a raised angle to slow his decent. As it began to level off, he tilted the handle down and leisurely flew out of the mouth of the pipe followed by slightly damp and slime covered Slytherins who had touched the walls of the pipe once or twice. The entrance pipe had a diameter of at least fifteen feet, just large enough for a Basilisk to travel trough.
Harry shuddered at the memory.
'Close' Harry hissed, cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
"You're a Parselmouth." Vincent stated, "Is there anything you can't do?" It was meant as a joke… probably, but the Slytherins still looked a bit curious.
"Er… lot's of things. I'm pants at divination… and arithmancy… I'm not very knowledgeable in Ancient Runes either… um… welcome to the Chamber of Secrets." Harry held his hand out in gesture. "Be careful, the ceiling is in need of strengthening charms, and watch out for the snake skins and animal bones. I don't want anyone to trip and twist something."
"Thank you mother. It's a bit dank, wouldn't you say?" Blaise smirked, clearly impressed, but not wanting to admit it. Harry shrugged and led the way into the chamber.
"So, does being a mage let you speak parseltongue?" Greg asked.
"No… that is something I was…" Harry did not want to say 'born with' because he didn't actually know if that was true. He always thought that Voldemort had passed along his powers with a piece of his soul, but Neville did not know snake speech. "I've been able to talk to snakes before I walked the mage paths."
The group made their way farther into the chamber, by passing the snake skins and decaying animal bones, some yellowing with age, others white, no more than two years old.
"We could sell the skin and use the money from that to fund our company." Draco noted.
"This isn't a company, Draco." Harry rolled his eyes.
"Assembly then." The blond snorted, "Faction, troop, band of idiots, what ever you want to call it."
"There's something, we should probably have a name." Pansy interjected.
"Like what?" Vincent said, "Like the Death Eaters?"
"Or the Order of the Phoenix…" Harry muttered under his breath. "I guess I don't care, as long as it is something that is representative of what we are intending to do."
"This place is magnificent." Draco gazed into the main chamber, emeralds gleamed coldly from the serpent pillars, and the statue of Salazar was even more impressive than Harry remembered. "It could use a few house elves, but it really is truly amazing."
"We should be called the safe passage." Millicent spoke suddenly, startling the group. "Because that is what we are offering isn't it, a safe passage through the war?"
"I'm not sure it would be a good idea to promise safe passage… I can do my best to protect people, but ultimately I cannot shield everyone." Harry turned and faced Millicent imploringly.
"You are thinking too small." Draco said pointedly, "This is going to be huge. You just don't know it yet." Harry bit his lip, thinking that this was not going to be so easy.
"I want to help, I want to give people another option, but I don't know how I can do this and succeed. I am aware that I will need a lot of help."
"It's a good thing you came to us then." Blaise smirked, "Who better to aid you then purebloods and Slytherins?"
"This will not be about blood-," Harry began but was cut off by Malfoy.
"You are misunderstanding the point," Draco held up a finger, "We are all raised as purebloods, even if we… are not. We understand ministry politics, wizard law… things that you can't learn in books. Mudbloods can try to manipulate the system, but a family name and wizard gold can make a big difference."
"Don't say that word." Harry hissed.
"What, mudblood?" He smirked. Harry briefly wondered if Malfoy realized the irony of his comment.
"It's derogatory and insulting." Draco shrugged and Harry bristled, "You say it again and I-,"
"You'll what? Hurt me?" Draco folded his arms across his chest and raised a challenging eyebrow. Harry was silent for a moment, trying to think of a reasonable threat when he had an epiphany and a wide grin spread across his face.
"Worse," He turned his back on Draco and continued forward until he was in the centre of the large chamber, "I'll ignore you," And with that he transfigured a large round table and seven chairs, taking a seat and watching the Slytherins burst out laughing.
Draco looked a little put off, and his cheeks were flushed.
"I can't believe it," Pansy was practically crying with mirth. Greg and Vincent were howling.
"Oh, as if that's a good deterrent. Dear me Potter. What ever will I do if a Hufflepuff is threatening to ignore me?" Draco scoffed, taking a seat at the conjured table with the other Slytherins. Harry noted that he did not repeat the offensive phrase, which was a good start.
"Okay. What we have so far – I happened upon a wonderful opportunity, and so I talked to Anthony Goldstien, he's-," Pansy began, but Harry cut her off and finished for her.
"Ravenclaw, our year. He's an alright… guy…" Harry trailed off as Pansy glared death at him for interrupting.
"I was going to say," Her eyes glittered in warning, "that he's a gold mine of information, and he's dating Lisa Turpin, who is friends with the sister of the school's number one gossip queen's best friend."
"Wiat-," Harry cocked his head in confusion, "What?"
"Lisa turpin is close to Padma Patil, Parvati's sister, who is friends with Lavender Brown." Millicent grinned towards Pansy and they shared a smile.
"So… why not use Padma? Why so indirect?" Harry was beginning to realize that politics was not something he was gifted in, especially now that Draco was rubbing the bridge of his nose, Blaise raised an eye brow, and even Vincent and Greg were looking at him in disbelief. "What?"
"You poor, poor pitiful wizard." Draco sighed.
"Goldstien is wrapped around my finger." Pansy smirked, "I caught him snogging someone last Thursday evening, and it definitely wasn't Lisa Turpin."
"Wait, you're blackmailing him?" Harry frowned, not liking where this was headed. "I don't want there to be-,"
"Who was it?" Blaise asked grinning.
"Mandy Brocklehurst." Pansy gushed a bit overly dramatic.
"Oh, gross. That girl?" Draco sneered.
"This is not a gossip session." Harry smacked his hand down on the table so that it stung his skin. He knew he was working with fourteen-year-olds and that attention spans were miniscule at best, but he had thought that they could at least be serious when this concerned more than just their futures. "This is not going to be a group that coerces people or manipulates them like pawns on a chess board. I am not Dumbledore."
"Harry… no offence… but grow up." Blaise said quietly, "This is politics."
"Fine." Harry glared hard at Blaise, "Use him. And then when you're done trampling all over his life and you can no longer hold something over his head I hope you watch your backs. He's not necessarily a vengeful person, but I hope you prepare yourselves. We are not trying to instill hatred and make enemies."
"Then what do you propose we do?" Millicent asked.
"Make friends. Trade favors." Harry suggested. "Back scratch a little."
"Our way is quicker." Pansy grumbled.
"We only need a few people in each house." Greg offered, "We just need to make friends with them and see if they are trustworthy."
"Okay, who do we connect with?"
"I recommend Terry Boot or Luna Lovegood from Ravenclaw." Harry remembered that both of them had been more than helpful during the war.
"Loony?" Malfoy looked incredulous. Vincent snorted behind his large hand.
"I see hidden potential in her." Harry smiled mysteriously and fingered the necklace around his throat.
"I agree." Millecent added, "She is well known for being a bit…"
"Loony?" Greg supplied.
"But hardly anyone pays her mind. She could really be a great asset, if she can remember conversations anyway." Millicent was truly beginning to grow on Harry. She was a flexible and thoughtful person, open to other ideas, and she did not mock him with sarcasm. He appreciated that.
"What about from Hufflepuff and Gryfindor?" Greg seemed to growl out the last word as if it angered him.
"I say Hermione, and if possible Dean Thomas." Harry thought.
"You mean if possible, Granger. She's part of the golden trio. I doubt she would go for the alienating Dumbledore bit." Pansy interjected.
"I'm friends with her." Harry replied. "And she's got to be one of the brightest witches of her age. She is an invaluable asset, and a loyal friend. With her, we might get support from Neville-,"
Who wants that arse?" Draco sniffed indignantly. Harry glared disapprovingly.
"And as for Hufflepuff, you have my self… and Wayne, I suppose, if he ever starts speaking to me again. Maybe Justin… if I can manage that." Harry chose to ignore Draco's previous statement in favor of continuing the planning.
"Neville is all but chained to the headmaster. The old geezer won't let his precious golden boy defect from the cause." Blaise sneered. "And I'm not sure if you can hold your own against him like you claim."
"Only if it's a matter of raw power… I'd lose abominably in politics. I just barely managed to out wit him by the skin of my teeth. I'm not certain I will be given any more opportunities like that. So you are correct. He still has an edge that I do not, hence my appeal to the six of you."
"So… how are we going to do this then?" Vince asked.
"I can start reaching out to Luna." Millicent offered.
"I want Boot." Draco grinned.
"I think… I would like to take Thomas." Pansy wore a subtle smile. "He is in my Arithmancy course. Bloody brilliant with numbers and equations for spells. I can use that as an excuse to get close."
"Please remember that they are not chess pieces." Harry let his head fall into his hands.
"Oh, don't misunderstand," Pansy's small smile grew larger and more predatory, "People are far more entertaining than a chess game."
"You aren't getting it at all." Harry whined half-heartedly.