Badger and Lion

Author: Dusk Magnum
Created: July 8, 2004
Date Written: July 22, 2004
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I DON'T OWN HARRY POTTER! I'd sure like to, because the franchise would make me a multi-billionaire and forever remembered as the person who led millions of children to read, but I'm not. So I suppose there's no use in crying over spilled potion now, eh?
Notes: Italics denote thought, yadda yadda yadda…. You know the drill.

Part 5: Practice Makes Perfect

Harry knew all too well the feeling that the clocks had been bewitched to run at double speed, and it showed now; here he was, just days from the second task, and he had absolutely no idea what he was going to do. Occasionally in Charms, no doubt because Harry had so effectively used the Summoning Charm in the first task, Professor Flitwick would allow him to sit in the back of the class and read through several books that he would recommend. Though Harry found several passages on water, they dictated its most common uses in potion making and instances in which witches and wizards from the past used it to aid them. He thought maybe he ought to dry to turn the water into air, but as Hermione pointed out, they weren't even sure a trained witch or wizard of age could perform such a thing.

So one morning, four days before the second task, Harry sat in the back of Charms and pored through a thick volume in his hands, having already scoured the pages of three other equally heavy books and found nothing. Hermione and Ron were practicing basic Befuddlement Charms, which would temporarily disorientate the person who received it. Professor Flitwick insisted that it was much easier practicing these on smaller animals, as to use it on a human would take an enormous amount of practice, mental strength, and obviously, magic. Hermione watched her frog lazily hop around, sometimes managing to smack itself on the surface of the desk or twist its legs up mid-jump (she had successfully performed the charm the fourth time trying and since then her frog had been in an advanced state of confusion). Ron complained that Hermione was too good at everything and, shortly after, had an argument with her about how his frog was sort of confused ("It's NOT, Ron, look at it, it can still jump and everything—" "Yeah, but don't you think it looks a little cross-eyed?").

Harry was dutifully ignoring all of this. He couldn't waste time thinking about Befuddlement Charms when he was still without a clue as to how to survive underwater for an hour. Finally, an hour later, the bell rang and Harry waited for his friends to catch up at the door (Hermione's frog had somehow become entangled in her hair; Ron looked pleased), his mind still buzzing with questions and answers about water he'd read in Flitwick's many books. He thought he might try asking Snape for help, but no; he would sooner help Harry than give him full marks on a potion. Admittedly they were all abysmal, but partly because Harry could always feel the teacher's burning gaze when he wasn't looking, it was enough to make anyone nervous.

He thought for a moment whether he ought to ask Cedric, but he hadn't talked to him since the previous Thursday. He wasn't sure if Cedric even liked him anymore. This brought a whole new roster of frightening ideas and thoughts, but on being prodded by Hermione after lunch (Ron, who was shoveling food into his mouth faster than he could swallow it, was not paying attention) he caught up with Cedric in the halls. Miraculously, he was walking alone; this in itself was a cosmic event, as he normally had five or six people crowding around him like a band of bodyguards.

"Hey, Cedric!" said Harry tentatively when he had come within hearing rage of the seventeen-year-old. Cedric turned his head—his brown locks of hair, looking clean and fluffy, bounced in front of his face and he shook them away. He smiled, but looked as if he was hesitant to. Perhaps he was unsure whether Harry still liked him, and for all the attention he'd received, he had all the right to wonder.

"Harry! I haven't seen you all week, what's up?"

"Nothing," Harry quickly said, and didn't bother to invent a reason. There was no time. "I need to ask you about something. And—well, I know how this is going to sound, but I just really need help figuring out the second task, I've been so confused for days…." This, of course, was very true, but for a completely different reason. "I've been looking through all the books, and I still can't find anything." He paused, and he supposed that he looked very pathetic. "So… I sort of need help."

"You need help?" Cedric asked, looking puzzled. "But didn't I tell you?"

"Tell me… what?"

"I've found the way to do it, I even think another champion's using it," Cedric said, talking very fast, his stormy gray eyes alight with excitement. "It's called the Bubble-Head Charm, it's taught in seventh year, but I still think you can pull it off if you can do the Patronus—"

"You know about the Patronus?" he asked curiously.

"A little bit," he said, suddenly reddening. "When I saw you use it at that match last year—it was just amazing, I've never seen anything like it, by the way—I did a little research and… well…." He stopped at the door that led to his House's dormitories. "Well, anyways, I'd better go, but maybe tomorrow we can ditch a class or two and I'll teach you how to practice it—it's difficult, but I think with a bit of practice you'll be able to do it." He smiled, and Harry's insides seemed to inflate. "Yeah, well… I'll see you around."

"Yeah, see you," Harry said, smiling himself.

He turned around, feeling better than he had in days; Cedric didn't hate him, in fact, he had sounded nervous himself. The rest of the day was much better with this newly found knowledge under his belt. It made Divination seem more interesting; Ron looked very surprised when Harry actually stopped listening to his joke to pay attention to Professor Trelawney. Care of Magical Creatures was even better: Pacifying the bloodthirsty skrewts had never seemed more fun or, for that matter, less dangerous. Ron was looking bewildered when Harry brought a skrewt over for him, Harry, and Hermione to share, unable to stop grinning and skipping every other step.

"You like having your arms ripped off, then?" Ron asked him. Hermione looked like she was about to laugh for the remainder of class but said nothing.

It was a wonderful feeling: By the time Care of Magical Creatures had ended and the skrewts were safely encased in large wooden crates ("Right where they belong," Ron muttered, clutching his forearm—he'd received a nasty burn from theirs), Harry felt like he was walking on air.

"What's got into you?" Ron asked, half-smiling and half-frowning, so that his mouth contorted in a strange way. "You've been hopping about all morning—"

"Wonder what's for dinner," Hermione said quickly, avoiding Ron's eyes as she cut him off.

"Something good, I'll bet," Harry said, feeling like he could win twenty Quidditch games in a row. Ron furrowed his eyebrows.

An hour later, Ron dashed up to Gryffindor Tower, regrettably mentioning that he'd failed to complete a punishment essay for Snape (his abysmal potion the previous week earned him a five-thousand-word essay on the correct ingredients, directions, and uses of a Babbling Beverage), leaving Harry and Hermione alone.

"Maybe you want to catch up with Cedric," Hermione said knowingly, after gulping down the last of her pumpkin juice. "You know… practice a bit, get ready for the second task."

"Yeah," said Harry, scanning the Hufflepuff table. "Yeah, think I'll do that now…." He managed to catch the eye of Cedric, who was just getting up from his seat at the very end of the table nearest the doors, and the two reached a silent agreement to meet in the entrance hall. Harry, feeling once again like his insides had been inflated, followed the gray-eyed Hufflepuff out of the Great Hall, while Hermione stayed behind, quizzing Neville on the ten steps to properly plant a Venomous Tentacula.

When Harry had reached the hall, he saw Cedric standing at the opposite end, facing the oak doors and occasionally looking towards the Great Hall. When he saw Harry, he smiled and beckoned him closer.

"I was hoping maybe you could teach me to… well, do that charm thing today," Harry said when he'd managed to stay still long enough to look at Cedric (he felt like bouncing). "The second task is only in four days, and I pretty much need all the help I can get."

"Okay," said the seventh-year, looking up the marble staircase. "D'you think we could get an empty classroom to do it in?"

"I don't know," said Harry pensively, "we could try, but we're not really allowed, so we'd have to ask a teach—"

"Oh, never mind that," Cedric said, "I just remembered—there's this spot where we can practice—I found it in my fifth year when I was looking for a shortcut to the prefects' bathroom, it's really cool, it's huge and I don't think anyone goes in there—" He pulled Harry up the stairs with an impatient "Come on!"

Soon the two of them were hurtling down the passages, skirting in and out of the way of students making their way from dinner, and had soon landed in front of a large, dusty door on the sixth floor, somewhere near the Astronomy Tower.

"It's cool, isn't it?" Cedric said. Harry couldn't respond—it was, well, just a door. Out of breath from the run, he allowed Cedric to push open the door and the two boys walked inside. Harry's jaw dropped open. They had just entered a spacious room full of dusty ornaments, bookcases, and artifacts; on the walls hung swords, coats of mail, and portraits of snoozing people in front of roaring fires. Bookcases were stacked with books of all size and shape, all extremely dusty, except for a select few which Harry gathered Cedric had been reading. Best of all, a large, steel chandelier adorned with candles hung from the ceiling, looking as if it had recently been polished. The room held only two windows: Both almost as tall as the ceiling and stained glass, so that strained light filtered into the room, adding a golden glow to everything it touched.

Cedric noticed Harry's expression and laughed. "It is cool," Harry admitted, still eyeing the room. "We should probably dust this place down. Don't they have a spell for that?" he added musingly, remembering something Mrs. Weasley had mentioned at the Burrow last summer. "Some sort of household charm?"

"Probably," Cedric said nonchalantly, grasping his wand from the pocket of his robes. "But I don't know it. Here, I'll teach you the charm…" The next two hours, Harry spent his time in the company of Cedric, perfecting the wand movement, incantation, and performing of the Bubble-Head Charm. It was hard work: More often than not, the Hufflepuff had to correct his speech. One time, Harry had purposefully swung his wand in the wrong fashion so that Cedric could come over and maneuver his arm in the right way (his heart had leaped with excitement and apprehension at this). Harry remembered being told that a spell of this magnitude was difficult, but never before had he imagined how hard it really was. By the end of three hours, he'd made almost no progress, having only been able to say the spell correctly and could occasionally wave his wand in the right fashion. It was a complicated swishing movement, like drawing on a canvas, in the shape of what Harry thought was a spider's web; it was a wonder fully-trained wizards could achieve it.

Finally, a clock in Cedric's secret room chimed, and the two lowered their wands. "I promise, you'll learn this by the second task even if I have to strangle myself," Cedric assured. Harry laughed and the two met at the door—both grasped for the handle at the same time, and for a split second Cedric's long, tan fingers brushed up against Harry's—his heart nearly jumped right out of his throat.

"Sorry," they both said simultaneously, and each tried reaching for the handle again. Harry, though he didn't want to, withdrew his hand and allowed the older man to turn it and give way to the sixth-floor hall.

"I appreciate all the help," Harry said for the twentieth time.

"No problem, anything to help a fellow champion," Cedric said grinning. Harry's stomach squirmed.

"Well… see you."

"Yeah, bye!" And Harry walked away, his insides writhing with electricity, his heart pumping in overdrive. By the time he reached Gryffindor Tower, which was a long way considering his location but seemed like seconds, Hermione was waiting for him, standing just to the left of the Fat Lady's portrait.

"How was your… er… practice?" she said, smirking. Harry shook his head.

"Nothing happened," he said, but he couldn't stop himself from grinning. "We just… well, we really practiced. The Bubble-Head Charm is much harder than it looks."

"Of course, it's N.E.W.T. level, even I'd be crazy to attempt it," Hermione said loftily, and mumbled the password distractedly to the Fat Lady ("ishcabibbles"). She led the way through the portrait hole and into the common room, which was surprisingly empty; Ron was in a corner poring over a long strip of parchment, evidently unaware that his best friends had just entered the room. "We'll talk later," she said, and hurried off to the girls' dormitory.

Ron turned his head, grinned, and said, "There you are. Working more on the second task, I expect?"

"Yeah," Harry said truthfully, leaving out Cedric completely. Ron was already suspicious—or he seemed to be, at least. "I think I can do it, really. Just a few more days of practice oughta do it."

"Practicing what?"

"The Bubble-Head Charm," he said, and quickly invented a story about finding it in an obscure volume in Professor Flitwick's private book collection. "Hermione says it's N.E.W.T. material, so of course it's hard, but I think I've got part of it down, at least—"

They talked for a while longer before the clock above the fireplace chimed nine and Harry, feeling suddenly weary, traipsed off to bed, where he found a sleeping Seamus and Dean (perhaps Neville had forgotten the password again). Harry stayed up, however, finding that he was unable to sleep, and relived the memory of the afternoon spent in Cedric's company in his secret room. Maybe he and Cedric would work to make it their room; it just needed a thorough dusting. Harry was quite fascinated with the room, but what was more important, he seemed to be making steps closer to being a real friend to Cedric, and maybe it would lead to more…. At midnight he heard the door open and Ron's unmistakable yawn. Pretending to have already fallen asleep, as Ron no doubt expected him to be, he snored softly in his most convincing tones. And with that, he fell asleep, his dreams holding a secret room rendezvous and discussions with Hermione (though less about Cedric than the art of making potions out of Fizzing Whizbees).

TBC

DM, Signing Off:

Yay! Another chapter. I'd like to personally thank Ravine-Limit, astheblackrosewilts, Nikkei, oncemorewithfeeling, Anonymous, and Mysterie. Very pleased with the reviews (12, but we're getting there, folks; gotta start somewhere!), most of which—no, all of which—are apparently pleased, so I must be doing something right. Much love, peeps! School is starting so soon it scares me, which means there will be less updates, but don't fret. I haven't and won't forget this story (I repeat: I haven't and won't forget this story!!!!) so expect chapters few and far between, but with more Harry/Cedric contact and a spectacularly unfair best friend estrangement (see Goblet of Fire—yes, the REAL one). There's your bit of spoilers, people. Ta!

If you don't like gray eyes, which are sexy, I might have to kill you. Dusk Magnum