IN A MOMENT OF NEED

CHAPTER TWO: Scheming

AUTHOR: Inis'sPromise

The steps of a large man sounded through the dark, quiet stone corridor. Brackets that held distinguished torches dotted the walls, along with frames of paintings that could not be made out in the darkness. Although the sound indicated someone walking, there was no one in the hallway; only a faint distortion of the air, the product of a Disillusionment Charm.

The footsteps stopped near a black rectangle that was hung on the wall. "Lumos!" came a whisper from the general direction of the distortion. A ball of blue light appeared, seemingly floating in midair. The black rectangle turned out to be a painting of fruit once it was illuminated by the unseen man's Lumos Charm.

The air moved slightly, warping in a wave stretching towards the painting. An invisible hand tickled a green pear, and it laughed as it morphed into a green doorknob.

The distortion circled around the green doorknob, forming a ring of warped air. The doorknob turned, the painting swung open, and the discolored blob of air moved through the open frame.

The kitchen of Hogwarts was dark and quiet, something that only occurred in the wee hours of the morning. Nevertheless, a small house-elf popped into it, saying, "A resident is wanting assistance from the house-elves? Is you be needing food…?" The elf trailed off, seeing that no one was there.

"No," whispered a dark voice quietly. The elf gave a squeak of terror and prepared to snap its small fingers, going to Disapparate away and get the Headmaster.

Unfortunately for the house-elf, the man behind the Disillusionment Charm didn't plan on letting anyone learn of his presence in the kitchens.

"Imperio!"

In the light of his Lumos Charm, the invisible man watched the elf's eyes glaze over with a concealed, malicious smile.

Harry cracked his eyes open, finding himself in the Hospital Wing again.

"You certainly have a bad habit of getting yourself into trouble, young man," said Madam Pomfrey in a stern voice, holding a soft hand to Harry's forehead.

"I don't ask for it," Harry muttered in an exasperated tone. He reached over for his glasses and, once he grabbed them, pushed them onto his face.

The nurse made a disbelieving tsk noise, bustling away—probably to go get a potion. While she walked away, Harry tried to remember what had happened. He had been in Dumbledore's office, he had done some tests to see what type of wand he needed, there had been three materials floating in front of him…the wand cores! Had Harry combined them?

Madam Pomfrey came back, a vial of blue, bubbly liquid in her hand. Harry smirked slightly to himself; he had been right.

"Here," the nurse said, thrusting the potion into Harry's hand, "drink this. It's an energy supplement. You used a lot of magic doing…whatever it was you were doing in the Headmaster's office." She frowned, as if she were annoyed at not knowing what had happened.

Harry gave a start; had Dumbledore not told her? If not, what had he told everyone? How long had he been asleep? He felt his face redden at the thought of people knowing he had slept in the Infirmary for the second time in a row.

He tipped the vial back, downing its contents with a grimace. It tasted awful.

"The Headmaster—against my wishes— has asked to see you in his office as soon as you are awake. Your friends left some clothes for you—they were quite worried, you know," said Madam Pomfrey as she handed him neatly folded black robes.

Harry nodded his thanks and the nurse left his bed area, closing the privacy curtains behind her. As he dressed, Harry thought, I wonder if my new wand has been made.

On the walk up to Dumbledore's office, Harry received many stares. He glanced down at his watch; it was early, and most classes hadn't started. His face burned red with embarrassment, only to darken as he noticed a familiar, spoiled blond brat.

Malfoy noticed Harry a second after Harry himself noticed the Slytherin. "Well, well…the conquering hero has awoken," said Malfoy, lips curling into a sneer.

"Disappointed?" Harry asked shrewdly, quirking an eyebrow.

"Very…though probably not as disappointed as your mum would be…seriously, is passing out the only thing you can do? Though, your filthy mother probably wouldn't even be able to think clearly, poor, Mudblood thing," he sneered, an expression of pure taunting on his face.

Harry saw red. Behind him, the paintings started to shake. Torches flickered and the ground shook beneath his feet. Malfoy's look of mocking turned to one of fear, and Crabbe and Goyle, the goons, stupidly stood agape.

How dare he—wouldn't even be able to think clearly—stupid, bloody, slimy git—Harry took a calming breath. Breathe, he's not worth your attention. Just walk away, a voice sounding like Hermione's said to him. He unclenched his fists, not even remembering clenching them. He stepped in the direction of the Headmaster's office, surprised at his level of control.

"Yeah, walk away. My father told me your father was a coward, too," cut Malfoy.

The window above the three Slytherins shattered, spraying bits of glass down on the fourth-years. Harry stared at his hands in horror; had he done that? Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle stared at him, mouths open, bleeding from small cuts on their heads.

Harry felt sick to his stomach. He hadn't even tried, hadn't even thought…it had just happened…he ran away from the three boys, into the nearest men's bathroom.

A stall door flew open on its own accord, and Harry dashed into it, not caring that he had just opened the door with his mind. He got sick into the toilet, body shaking with uncontrollable tremors. He felt clammy, and he could tell without looking in a mirror that he was drenched in sweat. Hot tears streamed down his face, clouding his glasses. Were normal tears that hot—hot enough to fog up his glasses? He retched again, but nothing came up. When was the last time he had eaten? Yesterday? At lunch?

Slowly, Harry calmed down. He took deep, shaky breaths, focusing on that and not…he didn't complete that thought. Harry leaned his head against the door of the stall—some considerate person had thought to close it for him sometime during his retching. The cool metal door felt good on his too hot skin. Harry sighed, letting his muscles relax.

After a few more minutes of deep breathing, Harry stood up, opened the door of the stall, and walked in front of the mirror. A boy with disheveled black hair, dull green eyes, pale skin with a sheen of sweat, and dark circles under his eyes stared back at him. He twisted the brass knob to turn on the water, cupped his hands, which shook, and splashed water on his face. He took one of the soft white Hogwarts towels and dried his face off.

Harry left the lavatory and set off in the direction of the Headmaster's office at a brisk pace. Thankfully, classes had started, and the students were attending them—well, most of them. A few visitors from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang peered at Harry, but he did his best to ignore them.

However, he couldn't ignore it when one came up and talked to him. "'Ello, 'arry. 'ow are you feeling? I couldn't beelieve my eyez when I watched your wand break. But, it zeems you are quite capable of defending yourzelf without one," Fleur Delacour said, looking at Harry with a curious gleam in her eyes.

"Er, I was very lucky," said Harry quickly. "Sorry, but I have somewhere to be," he excused himself as politely as possible. As he walked away from the French girl, he noticed her exchange significant glances with her friend out of the corner of his eye.

He dashed up the moving steps as fast as he could, wanting to be away from the prying eyes of what seemed like everyone. The trip to Dumbledore's office was starting to feel more like an epic odyssey than a quick walk up a couple flights of stairs.

Finally, Harry reached the stone gargoyle. He realized, once again, he didn't know the password. As he tried to think back to yesterday, when he had guessed the password correctly by naming random treats, the gargoyle became animated on its own, leaping to the side and allowing Harry passage. Okay…

He climbed the steep steps up to the Headmaster's office, questions already forming in his mind. He was going to ask Dumbledore so many things…

Harry reached the top of the stairs and raised his hand to knock. He wasn't too surprised when Dumbledore called, "Come in, Harry," before he could even touch the wooden door. Harry stepped into the office that twittered with silver instruments, as usual. Fawkes was nowhere to be seen, but his owner sat behind a mahogany desk, blue eyes twinkling.

"Harry, my boy, I do not want you to make a habit of going to the Hospital Wing," the old man said with a small smile.

"Madam Pomfrey said a similar thing," replied Harry, sitting down in front of the desk. He opened his mouth, but before a torrent of questions could pour out, Dumbledore held up a wrinkled hand.

"Before I am bombarded with questions, I will attempt to anticipate and answer them," said Dumbledore, "I believe when you combined the wand cores, a magical backlash erupted from them. You took the brunt of it, but Fawkes also took some…he burned up, even though it was nowhere near his burning day. To my intense relief, he was reborn from the ashes."

Harry took that in, mulled it over, then nodded his head. It made sense, and he could vaguely recall Fawkes bursting into flames before blacking out.

Dumbledore continued, "As for your wand, Mr. Ollivander is working on it as we speak. I fear the man has, despite my advice of getting some sleep, stayed up all night. He is truly happy to work with the cores. It should be ready in a few days."

Despite Harry's previous misgivings about the wand, he found himself excited to receive his new one. Maybe it could give him some measure of control over his newfound powers…

Speaking of which, he thought about telling Dumbledore about what had happened with the window. Thinking about it, Harry felt ashamed and scared. Sure, Malfoy was being a prick, but Harry had smashed a window on him! He remembered how he had felt afterwards with a mental shudder; he didn't know if the sick feeling was from the magic or the guilt—maybe it was both. "Professor," Harry started, making up his mind, "I…I need help." His voice broke.

Dumbledore looked at him with concern but said nothing, for which Harry was grateful for. He took a deep, shuddering breath, then explained to the Headmaster what had happened in the hallway with the Slytherins.

"I need to learn how to control it, Professor," Harry finished determinedly, looking Dumbledore straight in the eye.

"I will do everything to help you," said the Headmaster gently, giving Harry a proud smile. Suddenly, Dumbledore straightened and said, "My, how rude of me! I forgot to give you your prize!"

"Prize?" Harry repeated, wondering what the old man meant.

"The golden egg, of course! I was going to give it to you after Mr. Ollivander left…but, alas, things change," said Dumbledore, chuckling slightly. He flicked his wand, and a golden egg—the one Harry went through so much trouble to get—appeared in front of him.

Harry picked it up, admiring its sheen. "Well, you best be going, my boy. I have a meeting with the other Headmasters regarding the Tournament," Dumbledore dismissed.

Harry said good-bye and walked out of the office, holding the egg in both hands so as to not drop it. He dashed up to his dormitory to put the egg away, all the while cursing the stupid, dangerous Tournament.

By the time Harry sat down for lunch, the whole school had heard about the incident with the windows.

"Yeah, he had this look of a madman about him…you could see it in his eyes. Completely lost control over his magic, like some small child going through his first bout of accidental magic," Malfoy was explaining loudly and to anyone who listened. A gaggle of Slytherins surrounded him, and Pansy Parkinson leaned on his arm, completely, disgustingly captivated.

"Harry, I don't like my pumpkin juice boiling," Hermione said quietly, giving Harry a hard jab in the elbow.

He gave a start at the bubbling liquid, scowling at it distastefully. Next to him, Ron was clenching his jaw and staring hatefully in the direction of the Slytherin table.

Harry sighed and took a bite of roast beef, grimacing slightly. Maybe it was his mood, but the food tasted off. Bitter.

"Bloody git is really asking for it," Ron grumbled, shooting dark glares at Malfoy.

"Just ignore him, Ron," said Hermione placatingly. "You, too, Harry," she added.

Harry took another bite of beef, forcing himself to swallow it to make up for the food he had lost this morning. He sighed, "Hermione, remind me again what the homework is." He had missed much the last two days and while some teachers, like Flitwick and Hagrid, were understanding and excused the missing work, others weren't—like Snape and, surprisingly, McGonagall.

"Potter, I realize you have been through a lot, but your O.W.L.s are next year, you need to start preparing now. I have excused the essay, but you need to get adequate notes from one of your peers, I'm sure Miss Granger will be happy to lend you hers," the professor had said sternly.

Hermione's voice brought him back to the present, "It's really just the notes from Professor McGonagall and Snape's essay on the Calming Draught."

Harry nodded and arose from the Gryffindor table. "I'm going to go do that before Care of Magical Creatures." He ignored Hermione's protests and stalked out, fully and painfully aware that every eye in the Hall followed him out.

Sunlight beat down on the exposed part of Harry's neck as he, Ron, and Hermione made their way down the steep path towards Hagrid's hut for Care of Magical Creatures. Although the sun was out, a chilly November wind ruffled their hair and turned their noses pink.

"Harry, you finished your notes for Transfiguration?" Hermione asked, "We have it next, so—"

"Yes, Hermione, I did. And I know we have it next class," Harry snapped, in a short-tempered mood.

Hermione gave Harry a nasty look. "Harry, I know what you're going through is tough, but that doesn't mean you have to take it out on me," she said curtly. With that, she quickened her pace and went to talk with Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil.

"Ooh, low blow. She despises their talks—says all they talk about is boys," said Ron.

Harry regretted what he said, and his sour mood only darkened. "Thanks, Ron," he muttered sarcastically.

Ron had the decency to look slightly ashamed. They continued their trek down in silence.

When they reached Hagrid's hut, a loud voice bellowed, "HARRY!" and he found himself enveloped in furs and a lot of brown. He felt as if something was trying to squeeze the life out of him.

"Harry, yer alrigh'! Don' scare me like tha' again!" came Hagrid's voice somewhere above Harry's head.

"Hagrid, you're—squeezing—me!" Harry managed to say. Immediately, the pressure vanished, and he was deposited on the ground with enough force that his knees buckled.

"Sorry 'bout tha'," Hagrid mumbled, blushing. "I was jus' so scared! I though', maybe, since yeh knew 'bout—"

"I was scared, too," Harry interrupted loudly, afraid Hagrid was going to let it slip that he had shown Harry the dragons.

Hagrid seemed to get it and moved onto a different topic. "Yeh didn' miss much, jus' yer Blast-Ended Skrewt, o' course, buh tha's no problem…"

Harry and Ron exchanged amused looks. No problem…uh huh, Harry thought sarcastically, envisioning the fire-breathing beast.

While everyone started to walk around with their Blast-Ended Skrewts, Hermione stalked over to Harry and Ron, a grumpy expression on her face.

"Get tired of talking about boys and makeup?" Ron teased.

"Yes! And then they started talking about you, Harry. Saying how brave you are, handsome, too, ugh!" Hermione groaned, then immediately looked askance. "Not that you're not any of those things. It's just, it's so weird hearing them talk about my friend like that…"

Harry raised his eyebrows and blushed furiously. Were they actually…? Next to him, Ron was cackling with laughter.

"Him? Ha! Handsome!" Ron wheezed, red in the face from laughing so hard. Harry stomped his foot down on his friend's with quite a bit of force.

"OW! Merlin, Harry, I'm only having a laugh!" He defended himself, clutching his foot and hopping around wildly. Since he grabbed onto his foot, Ron dropped the leash keeping his Blast-Ended Skrewt from running away.

"Ron! Your Skrewt!" Hermione shrieked as the beast ran away, quite fast for something so big and lanky.

Ron muttered a string of colorful curses that made Hermione gasp. Shooting a dark look at Harry, he ran after it.

Hermione sighed, "Honestly, it's like he doesn't know he is a wizard and can use spells."

Harry nodded, an idea forming in his head. He closed his eyes and imagined Ron's Blast Ended Skrewt's leash. He tried to pull his energy together, for lack of better words. "Accio leash!" He muttered.

To his intense surprise, Ron's Skrewt's leash gave a sharp tug in the direction of Harry, dragging a stumbling and very bewildered Blast-Ended Skrewt with it. But it only travelled a few meters before stopping, leaving Harry feeling slightly tired.

Hermione looked at Harry incredulously. "Harry, that was brilliant! A good first step in the direction of control!" she exclaimed, giving him an encouraging smile.

Harry smiled back wearily. The tug he had given on the leash gave Ron the chance to grab it and drag the Skrewt back to where Harry and Hermione were standing.

"Did you see that? The Skrewt? Did one of you do that?" Ron asked when he arrived.

"Er, I did," Harry said quietly.

"You don't even have a wand…" Ron murmured confusedly. Then, he shrugged. "Well, thanks. I was having a bit of trouble getting it on my own."

"'A bit?'" Harry echoed. "Looked like a lot more than just a bit."

Ron narrowed his eyes at Harry. "You try chasing one of these—these monsters!"

"Anyway," Hermione intervened loudly, "Harry, since we're alone…can you tell us what happened yesterday? We saw you being carried to the Hospital Wing…we were worried."

Harry looked away from his two friends, towards the Forbidden Forrest. "I—yeah, I'll tell you guys. Let's go somewhere else, though…behind that tree," he said.

Ron and Hermione nodded, and the trio made their way over to a tall oak tree. They sat on its roots, watching their Skrewts fight each other for a few minutes.

Harry could tell Ron and Hermione were giving him time, and he appreciated that. Finally, he said, "It was when I was doing some test for my new wand…" Harry talked about the Elder wood, how he had floated it wandlessly. He explained the three cores levitating in front of him, and how Mr. Ollivander told him to combine them. He struggled for words when he attempted to explain the combining of the cores…there weren't any to properly convey it. As he described the events in Dumbledore's office, he kept his eyes on a beetle, scared to see his friends' reactions.

"…and then all I saw was blackness," Harry finished. Ron looked baffled and Hermione had a pensive expression on her face.

"I've never heard of a combination of cores…" Hermione muttered thoughtfully, quietly enough that Harry was unsure whether she was talking to them or herself.

"Pretty wicked, if you ask me," Ron said, giving Harry a slap on the back.

Harry gave him a strained smile. Wicked…not the word I would use. Ron noticed this.

"Not you fainting, of course. I just think…I dunno, this is a gift, Harry. Maybe you should stop treating it like a curse," he mumbled, looking self-conscious.

Harry thought about his words. Next to him, Hermione was looking at Ron with surprise, but there was pride on her face, too.

"I agree with Ron, Harry," she said, giving her Skrewt a sharp tug to keep it from biting Harry's.

Maybe they're right…Harry thought to himself. But then he thought about the windows shattering this morning, and his gut clenched. If it is a gift, it's surely acting like a curse.

"Potter, Weasley!" McGonagall's voice cracked like ice through the Transfiguration classroom. "If you could please pay attention. Potter, I know you don't have a wand, but I will not tolerate this misbehavior. I expect detailed notes at the end of the class regarding Cross-Species Switches from you."

Harry lowered the quill he had been using to fight Ron, whose quill was snapped in half. He mumbled, "Sorry, Professor," and heard Ron give muttered apologies beside him. Harry looked down at his parchment; all that was written was the title of the lesson.

He sneaked a peek at Hermione's notes. The entire page was filled with her neat script, and it was too small for him to read. Harry groaned inwardly and tried to pay attention to what McGonagall was saying, writing everything she said down using as much detail and as many big words as possible to make up for his lack of notes prior to her demand. Unfortunately, the lesson was coming to a close, so Harry did his best to elaborate on the few sentences he got down while everyone else packed up the guinea pigs they had been practicing on.

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, and Harry snapped his head up. "Class, before you go, I have an announcement to make." Harry reluctantly put down his quill and stared dejectedly at his half-filled page.

McGonagall continued, "The Yule Ball will be held in a little over a month. It is Triwizard Tournament tradition and an opportunity to socialize with our foreign guests. Now, the ball is open only to those in their fourth year or higher—although you may invite a younger student if you so wish to—"

A shriek of joy escaped from Lavender Brown, but it was cut short by a nudge in the ribs by Parvati Patil's elbow. Both girls looked at Harry with eager eyes, and he squirmed uncomfortably. Professor McGonagall ignored them, which he thought was unfair; hadn't she just told him and Ron off for disrupting the class?

"You will wear dress robes," continued McGonagall, "and the ball will be held on Christmas Day, starting at eight o'clock and ending at midnight in the Great Hall."

Then she paused, as if she didn't agree with what she was about to say. "The Yule Ball is a chance for us all to—er—let our hair down, so to speak," she said disapprovingly. "But that does NOT mean we will expect you to be anything less than polite and courteous. I will be very displeased if a Gryffindor shall embarrass the school in any way," McGonagall concluded, giving Harry and Ron (to their indignation) a significant look from behind her spectacles.

Just then, the bell rang, and the room was a flurry of packing and chatter. Harry shoved his quill into his bookbag and slung it over his shoulder, grabbing his notes (if you could call them that) from the table.

"Potter, if I may have a word?" Professor McGonagall called out above the scuffle of activity.

Harry reluctantly made his way over to her desk, thinking this was about his behavior earlier. The Transfiguration professor waited while the rest of the students filed out of the room before saying, "It is tradition for the three champions—well, in this case, four—to open the dance with their partners—"

"I don't dance," Harry blurted out, closing his mouth quickly.

Professor McGonagall narrowed her eyes angrily at him, and he said quickly, "Sorry, Professor, it's just…I don't dance." Harry felt himself going red, and his stomach gave little flutters at the thought of dancing in front of a crowd.

"Oh, yes, you do," said McGonagall irritably. "It's tradition. So, make sure you have a partner."

"But, I—"

"Make sure you have a partner," she repeated through gritted teeth.

Harry sighed resignedly and started to walk out of the room. "Oh, and Potter? Your notes, please. I just want to inspect them," Professor McGonagall called out, giving him a pointed look.

He gloomily handed his parchment over, not surprised when Professor McGonagall gave an annoyed tsk. "You will complete these notes and turn them in next class, along with the homework you and your classmates received," she said in a dismissive tone.

There is more homework? Harry thought with an inward groan as he walked out of the room.

When Harry entered the Gryffindor common room that night, he was already feeling sleepy from the rich—if a little off tasting—Hogwarts food. Therefore, he was in no way prepared for cheering to erupt as soon as his right foot stepped through the threshold.

Harry jumped slightly as people all around smiled and gave loud congratulations. He was pushed into a crowd of Gryffindors, shaking hands with people he barely knew. Everywhere, people were shouting his name, celebrating his victory with the dragon—even though it was two days late.

"I-It was just luck," Harry stammered to anyone who would listen. Whenever he said this, people just gave him a skeptical look and then continued to congratulate him.

"Let's see the egg, Harry!" Seamus Finnigan yelled, and was met with noisy cheers of agreement.

Harry felt himself go red with all the attention, and his head started to pound with all the din. But he was ushered away in a parade of red and gold, up to his dormitory so he could retrieve the golden egg. From the corner of the common room, Hermione gave him a sympathetic look.

When Harry brought the egg out from his dormitory, people screamed at him to open it. It was deafening, but not compared to the noise coming out of the egg once he opened it.

A horrible, screeching wail erupted from the golden object, and people everywhere clutched their ears in an attempt to muffle the sound. Wincing heavily, Harry slammed the egg shut again, relieved when the cursed screaming stopped.

"What the bloody hell was that?"

"Harry, mate, I think the next task is a banshee."

"I'm certain my ears are bleeding because of that thing."

"Merlin, reckon that will wake the whole castle up?"

All around Harry were people murmuring curses at the egg, grimacing. Seizing his chance, he hastily said, "Er, goodnight, everyone!" and fled into his dormitory, Ron close behind him.

"Bloody hell, Harry, that was awful," Ron muttered, giving the egg in Harry's hands a hard, disgusted glare.

Harry sighed, wondering if he would have to face a banshee in the next task. He hoped not…Harry yawned widely, fatigue seeming to seep out of him in waves. "I'm gonna go to sleep…" he murmured tiredly, plopping the egg into his trunk and dragging his feet into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

Ron gave him a confused look, probably wondering why he was so tired all of a sudden. Harry ignored him, falling asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.