Chapter Eleven

With only a few days remaining until Halloween, the atmosphere at Hogwarts was not dissimilar to that of the calm before a storm. The corridor was filled with nervous and excited chatter; everyone had their favourite candidate for the Triwizard Tournament and bets were already being made on the eventual winner. The obvious favourite from Hogwarts was Cedric Diggory, a Hufflepuff with a disarming smile and a large group of friends. Harry had only really spoken to him once before, but he'd seemed nice enough and hadn't gawked at him like he was some form of insect, which was always a nice change.

In all honesty, Harry didn't really care too much about the Tournament, maybe because he didn't fully understand the appeal; as far as he was concerned, submitting your name into the Goblet of Fire was testament to putting yourself forward to be institutionalised. A glorified and dangerous series of trials where the possibility of coming back alive wasn't actually guaranteed didn't quite sound like sport to him. He'd prefer Quidditch any day. Even though he was sure that was also considered a dangerous and glorified sport.

Still, the mood at the castle was infectious, and the new guests were fascinating subjects of curiosity, particularly the girls from Durmstrang, who seemed quite unimpressed with the attention lavished on them by the other students. Their visitors weren't the only cause for his good mood - Harry was surprised and elated to find that he was excelling in all his subjects, potions aside. In particular, Defence Against the Dark Arts had quickly became not only his favourite subject, but one he actually looked forward to having - his last homework piece had been returned to him with a paragraph of praise written neatly in fluorescent pink ink, and a large sparkly rainbow sticker.

Harry knew that their charismatic teacher, who had somehow even managed to make homework into a fun task, was likely the cause of his enthusiasm. Sitting in the gloom of the library in front of a thick stack of books wasn't normally how he and Ron liked to spend their time, but researching the types of creatures they might need to defend themselves from in the future was actually pretty interesting. He found that even though he enjoyed reading, he wasn't a big fan of the library itself; the air was musty and stuffy, the thick towering bookcases made the space around their table feel almost claustrophobic and he was never really sure how many people were lurking behind the shadows of the shelves. Harry had never fully explored the extent of the library, although he was sure that Hermione had; it was filled with old, leather-bound books and dark corners, and like the rest of the castle, was probably home to a few secret rooms. He hastily made a mental note to remind himself to consult the Marauders map later for confirmation of any uncharted corners of the library.

The map had made his life far too easy, on reflection.

Although the secret rooms and passages were cool, Harry definitely preferred the open expanses of the grounds and the fresh air. Even the forbidden forest was better than this decaying room filled with the voices and stories of people long dead.

"Whoa", Ron huffed, sliding a dusty, red tome towards him across the oak table. "Check out this picture of a rampaging Banshee, its wicked."
Harry craned his neck to see just as Hermione reached out and slammed the book shut.

"Hey!" Ron exclaimed, earning a glare from Madam Pince, the librarian who was always hovering just within earshot. Ron lowered his voice to a furious hiss. "You're always telling us to get interested in class, I was expressing genuine interest there."

Hermione raised a judgmental eyebrow. "I'm sure."

"I was! Harry tell her."

Harry nodded his head warily in agreement, always hesitant to get dragged into their squabbles. Sure enough, Hermione directed her fierce glare towards him in response, opening her mouth to deliver a scathing comment.

The library doors swung open with a loud bang. Madam Pince whipped around, her face blotchy with anger as she stormed away to deal with the unfortunate student who had entered her domain.

Exhaling slowly and closing the book she'd been using with a flourish, Hermione stretched until her back audibly cracked before packing away her parchment and quills. Harry and Ron followed suit, each of their chairs scraping noisily against the scratched wood floor. Freezing, Harry turned slowly, mentally preparing himself for the librarian's signature disapproving throat clearance.

It didn't come.

He found himself wincing in sympathy; whoever had opened those doors was probably getting an earful.

Having packed away all the books they had been using, the trio turned to walk towards the doors, only to be stopped in place by the sight of their Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher engaged in earnest conversation with Madam Pince, a towering stack of books in his arms which wobbled dangerously towards the librarian with every passing second.

Far from her usual irritated and snappy persona, Madam Pince was gazing at their Professor with open adoration, smiling so widely that the corners of her eyes crinkled. Harry was left astounded - this was the friendliest she'd ever appeared to him in all his time at Hogwarts. Granted, he didn't really visit the library on a regular basis. She could have been the life and soul of a party for all he knew.

Their conversation ended with her amused laughter. Turning her head, she noticed Harry, Ron and Hermione hovering uncertainly in the background and her features hardened in reserve. She walked away briskly, disappearing into the shade of the bookcases a few moments later.

Professor Emrys acknowledged them with a dazzling smile, looking more rumpled than usual with his hair coated in a thin layer of dust.

"Do you need any help, Professor?" Hermione asked tentatively.

"Ah, well...?" The top half of the book tower chose this moment to lean too far left, toppling to the floor as if in slow motion. The Professor promptly raised his foot to catch them neatly on the end of his toe, like a circus balancing act. Harry was reminded instantly of the comedy skits Dudley used to watch - plates stacked on the end of a stick which was in turn balanced on a comedian's nose.

"Hmmm, I think some help would be appreciated, if you don't have anything more important to do, of course." His eyes glittered as he swayed on one foot. They only hesitated a second before running to help him; Ron grabbed the books on his foot while Harry and Hermione took some of the tombs from the top of their teacher's pile.

Professor Emrys sighed in relief. "Thanks. I've found that its quite hard to navigate the school while hopping about on one leg."

Ron and Harry exchanged a glance as they all walked from the library, walking in the direction of their Defence against the Dark Arts classroom.
"Sir, were you in the circus at one point?" Ron ventured, placing a hand on top of his pile of books to keep them secure.

By their side, the Professor laughed. "I suppose you could say that. I was once very apt at juggling eggs." He grinned, as though making an inside joke with himself.

Ron skirted around a gang of students before jogging back in line as they rounded a corner. "Eggs?"

"Eggs." Their teacher confirmed with a solemn nod.

Harry frowned in confusion, opening his mouth to speak but instead falling flat on his face having tripped over a seemingly invisible obstacle in the corridor. The books skidded down the, thankfully deserted, corridor as he hit the ground hard. The slap of his hands against the stone echoed in the corridor. Loud cackling filled the air.

Harry pushed himself to a sitting position, glancing up in time to watch Peeves do a triumphant backwards somersault. Harry realised that Ron was yelling at the poltergeist, his own books shaking in anger.

"-you bloody tosser, don't you have anything better to -"

Professor Emrys reached a hand down to him, his stack of books forgotten on the floor. Taking the offered assistance, Harry felt an overwhelming sense of déjà vu.

He'd fallen over twice since the start of the year, both in the presence of his Defence against the Dark Arts teacher, and the first incident was directly caused by him. Harry was beginning to get the feeling that the man was bad luck.

Oh well, he thought, as the warm hand pulled him carefully to his feet, at least it wasn't a hit and run kind of guy he was dealing with.

Harry vaguely realised that Hermione was asking him if he was okay, her eyebrows meeting in a concerned frown. He nodded vacantly, registering that the Professor had yet to let go of his hand and that only one of his palms was stinging.

"Peeves."

Professor Emrys cut swiftly across Ron's furious tirade of abuse. The poltergeist in question halted mid laugh, his expression of glee twisting into one of shock. Moving his gaze from Harry's face, the Professor finally let go of his hand and turned slowly with his eyebrows raised.

Peeves sprung to action, gathering up the fallen books and depositing them in front of Harry hastily. The poltergeist turned and bowed slightly, vanishing so quickly that Harry couldn't be sure if it had actually happened it or if he'd just imagined the whole thing.

"Did Peeves.. just.. bow?" Ron whispered reverently, his mouth hanging open.

Harry hadn't imagined it then. It was well known that Peeves didn't show respect to anyone, except maybe Dumbledore. He definitely didn't bow. In fact, Harry was certain that he'd seen a flicker of awe cross the ghost's face in the moment before he'd disappeared.

The Professor calmly picked his pile of books up, turning with a soft smile. "Are you okay?"

Harry could only offer another vacant nod.

"Good. Shall we?"

With that, Professor Emrys resumed walking as though nothing had happened.

They followed slowly. Harry rubbed his hands together, noting how the prickling sting had vanished as fast as Peeves had. Hermione's brow was wrinkled in a frown which Harry had come to associate with deeper thinking reserved for complicated riddles.

They reached his room with no other distractions, following the Professor up the stone stairs to his office. It was warmer in the rooms than the rest of the castle and the heat settled comfortably on Harry's skin. The first impression he received of the office was that it was cosy and relatively normal. A roaring fire, squishy armchairs and shelves of books along the walls, which seemed inviting rather than oppressive as Harry had found with the library. On closer inspection, there were exotic trinkets littering the desk among the stacks of parchment and a window filled with weird and wonderful types of plant.

"Would you mind dumping those on the floor by the desk, please?"

Harry, Ron and Hermione obliged. They stood to find themselves being presented with an open box of biscuits.

"Here, here." Professor Emrys beamed happily. "To thank you for your invaluable assistance today, help yourselves. I made these myself. Of course, I had to borrow the kitchens for a bit and I was a bit worried about interfering with the house elves. They weren't too happy about me trying to do any work, but I managed to convince them that it was perfectly alright. Its an old recipe, they're just plain shortbread, you see - I find that the simpler the recipe is, the better it tends to be actually. Oh how rude of me, would you like some tea?"

Ron shook his head, eyes wide. "No, thank you though."

They ended up filling their pockets with the shortbread biscuits, at their Professor's insistence. After trying one, Harry wasn't about to turn down the offer. They were delicious.

"Why do you need so many books on Arthurian history?"

As Professor Emrys turned to her, Hermione blushed bright red. "I'm sorry, I mean, I just meant-"

His smile was friendly. "Don't ever be sorry for asking a question, I love questions. And to answer yours - its quite simply because I thoroughly enjoy the tales. I've written a few books on the legend of Camelot. I'm quite a famous author, I'll have you know. I'm just hiding from the paparazzi in Hogwarts."

"The what?" Ron mouthed at Harry. He shook his head slightly, turning his attention back to their teacher, who was rummaging through a trunk in a corner of the room, his head and upper torso disappearing over the edge of the box.

"Aha!"

When he returned to his feet, the Professor had a blue, leather-bound tome in his hand. He stroked the spine tenderly before offering it to Hermione.

She took it carefully, letting out a small huff of admiration at the scale-like texture of the front cover. Her fingers trailed over the gilded title, which appeared to be written in another language. "What does it say?"

Professor Emrys leaned against his table, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up and crossing his arms. "The title is 'time of Dragons' written in Old English. Don't worry, the rest of the book is in plain gobbledegook."

"There's no author's name.. ?" Hermione wondered, flicking through the pages with careful finders.

"Probably to save the poor bloke embarrassment." Their teacher said, closing the trunk and locking it with a small key. "Anyway, I'm lending it to you to read if you ever have time. If not, just bring it back whenever, but I'd be curious to hear your opinion."

The sound of a heavy knock on the door interrupted whatever thanks Hermione was about to give. Without waiting for permission, the door slowly swung open to reveal Draco Malfoy. Upon realising who the guests were, his stance became more defensive and his expression filled with distaste.

"We'll be going then, Professor." Hermione said hurriedly. "Thank you for the biscuits."

Professor Emrys seemed to shake himself, smiling at them. "Not at all, I should be thanking you for your help. Have a good day and get some vitamin D while there's still daylight."

They filed out of the office, being careful to edge around Malfoy.

The Slytherin cast one more disgusted look over his shoulder before slinking into the office and shutting the door. Harry recalled how distant the boy had become lately, even in potions class. In fact, as he had passed the Slytherin, the boy had almost looked ill.

"What the bloody hell does Malfoy want?" Ron scowled as they left the classroom and walked towards the Great Hall. "That little weasel. I bet he's up to something dodgy."

"It is curious." Hermione conceded, clutching the scaled book to her chest as though it were a precious treasure. "And I've never seen Peeves react like that to anybody. For a new teacher, Professor Emrys seems to have a lot of influence already, its really.. odd."

"Maybe its because he's awesome?" Harry offered.

"Yeah, and he has that aura, you know?" Ron nodded. "Like all mysterious. He's been everywhere by the sounds of it, though I don't think I believe the circus part entirely."

"Oh Ron, he was obviously just teasing you about that."

"So who made you the font of all knowledge?"

Harry, sandwiched again between his bickering friends, clenched his fists and thought about how his hands felt completely fine.


A/N: hey! I'm sorry again for the long chapter update, but I have many excuses. Many. In the form of assignments and essays being dumped all over me out of the blue, and once you've wrote one of those the last thing you want to do is go and write some more. I've had problems thinking about how close to the Harry Potter book I should be sticking. I mean, I don't want to just be rewriting Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire and then just adding Merlin into it, that would be boring. Like, the focus of this whole thingamajig is the interaction between harry and co. and Merlin. I really don't want to take away from that, so if i greatly deviate from the events in the book, that's why.
More importantly, I'm becoming aware that some of you actually do read this and actually care if I update. So, that's a huge shock. Thank you for everyone who left reviews, I love, love, love reading them, even if it is incredibly daunting.
I swear that however long it takes to get a chapter up, I'm not giving up on this, so don't fret. I'd update every day if I could, but the fact is that I don't have the time. I'm so sorry if this chapter is awful and has weird bits in, I've frantically wrote without checking, thinking that you all hate me for leaving it so long