Harry sighed, frustrated. What was this thing?
He shook the gold egg, hoping for a sound. He heard nothing. He pressed his ear against the abnormally large ege, but all was silent.
Damn it, he thought, staring up at the tall library ceiling. Not even a clue to help me.
"Troubled?" Malfoy asked casually, from the end of the long table Harry was sitting at.
Harry ignored him and continued rattling the damned thing, as if wishing a clue might fall out of it.
"Shaking that thing like a cheap maraca will not help, Potter," Malfoy sneered, turning the page of his book and keeping his eyes down.
"Neither will listening to you," Harry retorted, now tapping the egg. Perhaps if I tap it on just the right spot….
"Honestly, they didn't even give you a clue? Nobody did?" Malfoy was very obviously amused.
"Jealous, are you, that you didn't get accepted into the Tournament?" Harry returned. The Tournament was nowhere near fun or exciting, it was more dreadful and dangerous, but Malfoy didn't know that.
"I'd like to keep my head, thank you." Maybe Malfoy did know that the Triwizard Tournament was not all fun and games. "But, considering your lack of getting that thing to open or whatever, I doubt you'll be keeping yours for long."
Harry was, quite frankly, used to threats on his head. "Stop distracting me," Harry said, raising his voice just a tiny bit so Malfoy would get the message.
"Shh!" Madam Pince hissed, glaring at Harry over stacks of books.
Harry nodded absentmindedly and resumed fiddling with the golden egg. Perhaps there was a book on uncrackable eggs…? Would Madam Pince know about it…? Just as Harry made his decision to go ask Madam Pince, Malfoy spoke.
"You know," Malfoy said quietly. "I overheard Diggory a couple days ago. He said the key is to 'take a bath,' whatever that may mean."
Harry suspiciously peered at Malfoy, who didn't take his eyes off of his book. "And why're you telling me this?"
"Whilst seeing you get your ass set on fire or whatever other horrors they've cooked up this time would be humorous, you wouldn't want them to ruin that pretty face of yours, would you?" Malfoy leered, his eyes flickering up at Harry for the first time.
Harry flushed and stood up, his chair screeching backwards. "Thanks for the tip," he said drily, snatching his books and hauling the gold egg along. He nearly stomped all the way to Gryffindor.
"Harry!" Hermione said from the sofa, where she worked on her Arithmancy homework next to Ron. "Did you find anything? You've only been gone an hour!"
"Maybe," Harry replied, continuing past Hermione and up to his dorm. She didn't bother calling after him, although Harry did see her give Ron an anxious look.
He dropped his books to the floor when he entered, collapsing on his bed and staring at the stupid egg. Take a bath….
Was 'take a bath' some kind of metaphor? Or was Cedric merely joking when Malfoy eavesdropped? Or was Malfoy just trying to make a fool out of Harry?
Well, there was only one way to find out. Harry grabbed his towel, the cursed egg, and cautiously sneaked to the Prefects' Bathroom.
Harry practically skipped all the way back to Gryffindor. It wasn't much, but it was certainly something.
Come seek us where our voices sound,
We cannot sing above the ground,
And while you're searching ponder this;
We've taken what you'll sorely miss,
An hour long you'll have to look,
And to recover what we took,
But past an hour, the prospect's black,
Too late, it's gone, it won't come back.
It was definitely… ominous. Harry mentally palmed himself in the forehead; Come seek us where our voices sound, we cannot sing above the ground. Of course. Why didn't he think of it sooner?
And worst of all, it was Malfoy who had given them this reluctantly useful hint. Now Harry had to say it was Malfoy who suggested it, Malfoy who helped Harry, Malfoy who took a big role in guiding Harry in the right direction.
Thinking of the merfolk's words, Harry panicked. We've taken what you'll sorely miss? What? What would Harry possibly miss?
Harry thought of the many things he'd miss, and his panic only grew. But then his thoughts drifted right back to that git.
Why did he help me? Does he want something in return? Perhaps he was just messing with me, but it backfired? Maybe he's placed bets on me, and wants to ensure I win? Or is he simply becoming a decent human being?
The last thought was somehow crazier than the gambling one (Malfoy was ridiculously rich, why would he worry about such plebeian things like losing money?). The likeliness of Malfoy developing a soul was very, very low. He was Malfoy, whose father worked for the Dark Lord and whose aunt was locked up in Azkaban. The idea of him having feelings was impossible.
And yet he saved you a ton of time, with his hint, came the obnoxious voice in Harry's head. What do you have to say to that?
"Shut up," Harry muttered aloud.
"Excuse me," huffed the Fat Lady, stirring awake. "My snores aren't that loud."
"Sorry," Harry said hastily. "I wasn't- I wasn't talking to you. Er, wheatgrass."
The Fat Lady's portrait swung open, and she tsked as Harry walked inside. Hermione and Ron had already gone to sleep.
Harry dressed in his pyjamas and brushed his teeth. He laid down on his bed, plucking off his glasses. He tossed the golden egg from hand to hand, pondering. Not about the egg, he found, but more about Malfoy.
It was a nice thing to do, Harry decided finally, but that doesn't mean I see him any different. One kind act won't make up for all the cruel things he's done. He's going to have to work a lot harder if he actually wants to be a better person, which I seriously doubt he does.
And the next day, Harry thanked Malfoy properly. Malfoy couldn't keep that stupid smugness off his face, but he nodded briskly and hurried to his next class. It was a start.
Malfoy and Harry would, doubtlessly, resume acting as typical enemies within the week. A nice Malfoy was about as likely as a dumb Hermione. One helpful tip would do nothing to lighten their mutual hate.
But Harry couldn't help but wonder.