Chapter 15: Stonehandle
---
"But the glass," he kept saying, "where did the glass go?" - Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone
---
Wednesday morning came to pass, and by the time Harry had eaten the breakfast that Cobbit had brought up for him, he felt quite a bit better about beaten around the head by Cho Chang with flower pots. Deciding to skip his morning run for now, and do it at lunch, he headed downstairs to the Great Hall.
As he entered, Hermione held up a letter, and he moved across to take it. "From the Ministry?"
"It just came with the post-owls a few minutes ago. Your History OWL results," Hermione said informatively. "I promise not to scream this time, so it's okay for you to show them to me."
Harry grinned, and slit the envelope open. "Okay... Dear Mr. H. J. Potter, blah, blah, blah... exam mark - oh, you're not going to believe this," he said, rather smugly. "Guess."
Ron half-closed his eyes and held his hands to the sides of his head. "I'm Seeing a vision - okay, I think it's... just less than your Language score?"
"Cold," sang Harry triumphantly.
"Ah yes, sometimes I interpret the Sight wrongly," Ron said immediately. "I See... just over your score?"
"Getting warmer..."
"A hundred percent," Hermione guessed.
"Er - not that much, unfortunately, but very close."
"Oh, just give it here," Hermione reproached, snatching the letter before Ron could make another estimate. She scanned through it, looking delighted. "Harry, I would say I was pleasantly surprised - but I'm surprised at all." She held up the parchment. "Ninety-eight percent, Harry! Another 'Outstanding' mark!"
Harry put his hands behind his head and leaned back as if lounging in a chair, rather than balancing precariously on a bench. "I'm just too good, sometimes."
Ron put on a face of feigned-terror. "Forget becoming 'Mione, you're turning into Malfoy."
"Ron!" scolded Hermione, though she still looked pleased. "Well, Harry, are you planning to take any more?"
"No way!" said Harry defiantly. "Languages and History is enough for now; people are just thinking I'm some kind of genius - I don't want to suddenly get a dozen OWLs before the usual time, and have everyone start getting suspicious of whether I'm cheating or something. I mean, what if they stuck me under Veritaserum and asked me how I was learning everything? 'Oh, well I'm actually using magical tubes from Atlantis to help me remember Grindelwald's middle name. Does that count as cheating, sir?'"
Ron sniggered, and Hermione looked amused. "Yes; I suppose that could be bad," she understated.
They continued on to a conversation about the History OWL, before Ron and Hermione actually had to go to History. Harry leisurely finished off a slice of watermelon that he had taken from one of the bowls of fruit, and decided that as he now had an hour to do whatever he pleased, he would do the exercise that he had previously planned to skip - he had now extended his usual jog to fifteen minutes rather than ten.
After that, he finished some Charms homework that he had been meaning to do, before using the rod to research information on several hundred potions. Even with this amount inside it, it still wasn't full, and remembering the notes to Techno-Magic - 'There is no Dark or Light magic' - he decided to use much of the remaining space for methods for creating poisons and other Dark potions, as well as their antidotes.
He deliberately left a little bit of space for Divination, as he still was hardly an expert on the subject; to finish off, he downloaded information on the zodiac, the star and moon signs, which finished the rod off.
Taking it out of the slot, Harry prepared himself for the headache to come, grasped it in both hands, and let his mind take in the thirty-six thousand, seven-hundred and twenty pages. The information came, as did the words and images contained within the rod; not as bad as the last time he had tried to 'read' a full rod, but still enough to make his head feel as if someone had put a metal bucket over it, and was repeatedly banging the bucket with a hammer.
Wincing at the splitting, screaming pain, Harry hid the laptop and rod in the trunk, and scrambled over to the bed, where he threw himself down and covered his head with a pillow, which helped somewhat. "Bloody Boy-Who-Lived, Phoenix, Enchanter, and 'genius'," he mumbled irritably, "Can't get rid of a flipping headache though."
---
By break-time, when Ron returned to the dormitory from History, the pain was almost completely gone, and reappeared only as a twinge at fast movements or loud noises. Harry carefully walked down the spiral staircase to the Common Room, and slowly sat on one of the couches, cautious about knocking his head and getting a repeat.
Hermione was already seated at one of the chairs, perusing her Conjuration book, and looked up when Harry entered. "The class wanted to know why you weren't in History, so I had to tell them," she informed him. "Was that okay with you?" Harry nodded in reply - not too much, though.
Hermione sighed. "Oh, honestly. You've memorised the whole Charms textbook, but you still haven't grasped a spell to get rid of headaches?" she stated, recognising the symptoms from the last time. She whipped out her wand, muttered a spell, and a moment later, Harry's head was fine.
"Well, the Charms textbook didn't have any spells to get rid of headaches in it," Harry argued. "Thanks, though." he added. "You've just saved my sanity."
Ron looked surprised. "I thought you'd lost that ages ago?"
---
Training that night didn't involve any fighting at all, much to Harry's disappointment; he quite looked forwards to the sword-fights they had, even though he always ended up much worse for wear by the end, and still had yet to win a single time. Instead, he and Levina went over the different muscles in the body, and how he could exercise each one of them - "Just a jog each morning won't be enough," Levina instructed him sternly, as though he had been disobeying a direct order. "Do a few push-ups; exercise your arm muscles, especially your biceps, as well as your legs - you want power behind your sword, and endurance, and if you can fight on your feet for hours, but you can't hold a sword for more than one hour, what good is it to you?"
Although Harry admitted she was right, he didn't much like it. "Well, as long as you do it, I don't care whether you like it or not." Levina told him when he voiced these thoughts. "It's good to have a routine, as well, so it can help in that respect as well. I mean, look at yourself so far! I wouldn't even recognise you as the boy I first started to train." She was of course, exaggerating - but as Harry stopped by the mirror in the shower-room once he'd returned to Gryffindor Tower, he realised that actually she wasn't elaborating very much.
The changes had been so gradual that he had barely noticed them, but the change in diet and exercise a few weeks ago had sped the process up even more. He was no longer skinny, but he was nowhere near fat; although he certainly wasn't a muscle-bound Arnold Schwarzenagger with a bulging six-pack (that would have looked quite revolting on him, anyway, he thought), he had well-developed muscles hidden under his sleeves, and his legs too were - though by no means muscular - in much better shape than the average teenage boy's.
His stomach was, as said before, not skinny nor fat; the muscle there was starting to develop too, thanks to a combination of the food, jogging and the dodges and lunges in sword-fighting, and no longer looked like it belonged to a scrawny, half-starved greyhound.
Harry realised why Cho had asked him out a while ago; as she must have already had her eye on him, she had noticed his transformation; his lack of glasses, his hair that was not too wild - now it was springing up just enough that it looked deliberate and actually rather cool, rather than 'help, I'm part Medusa'.
His robes hid much of his new build, so it didn't look as though anyone would spot it on a casual glance; he could only imagine how he would be at the end of fifth-year, when he would have more training, and Quidditch practice to go along with it. Amazed that he hadn't spotted all this before - it was his own body, for goodness sake! - Harry finished gazing into the mirror, and returned to the dormitory for bed.
---
At breakfast on Friday, Harry received last month's Gringotts statement; he now had six-million, three-hundred and ninety-one thousand, three-hundred and twenty-eight Galleons; he worked this out to be around fifteen-million, nine-hundred and seventy-eight thousand, three-hundred and twenty-one pounds.
"It's a pity they round down the Sickles and Knuts," Ron sighed wistfully, setting his goblet of Pumpkin Juice down, "Or you'd probably have even more interest each month."
"As if I don't have enough money to be getting on with," Harry scoffed, and remembered his properties. He had spent some time fitting each of the keys in his trunk onto the enchanted keyring he had bought in the suspiciously Dark-looking shop in Hogsmeade a while ago, and now wondered exactly what they looked like.
His musings were interrupted by Hermione's announcement that they had better get to Transfiguration, to which Ron replied with a moan, and slowly eased himself up. "Maybe I should have taken my OWLs early," he groaned as they started out the Hall and down the corridor. "Then I'd only have an hour of lessons on Fridays, too."
"Well, you probably wouldn't pass them," Hermione pointed out, "After all, you haven't read all the rods that Harry has, so you have nowhere near the knowledge of the subjects."
Ron argued that it wasn't the case; but it was certainly true that when Professor McGonagall asked the class what types of wood were best transfigured into water, Harry and Hermione knew the answer, though he didn't.
---
Harry didn't have any lessons after break - it would normally have been double History, and after lunch, double Languages - so instead, he found himself researching Astronomy and after that, Muggle biology. He spent the rest of what would have been the two-hour History lesson in making a website for his own amusement, and to practice the various coding that he had learned. When lunch-time came, and Dobby appeared in the dormitory carrying a tray of food for him, he realised that he still had no idea what he actually wanted it to be for, so he randomly picked a topic - he decided on Dark creatures - and quickly changed the main page to match the subject.
Ron came up a little while later to grab his Winter cloak; it had now started to snow heavily, and it was nearly at below freezing, though the castle's charms and the fires were keeping indoors at an even, warm temperature - before leaving again. Harry wasn't entirely sure why he wanted his Winter cloak, but knew when he looked out of the window; the students had a new game, as he saw that they were throwing snowballs at the giant squid, who whipped its tentacles out of the water and hit them back towards them.
Amused by this bizarre entertainment, Harry returned to the laptop, and started making a list of all the different creatures he could write about. He wouldn't be able to put the site up on the Internet; after all, Muggles could stumble across it there; but it was still a pleasant diversion, to feel that he was making something interesting.
By the end of lunch-time, Harry had written everything he knew about Vampires (twenty-eight pages worth) and Erklings (seventeen pages worth), though he still had to sort out the layout, menus, graphics and so on. Feeling exceptionally proud of himself, Harry inserted the JavaScript title screen onto the main page - the laptop was exceptionally fast, thankfully, and saved the files before shutting the laptop down.
He'd had enough of that for one day - what to do now... as he put the computer back into the trunk, though, he spotted the keyhole to the other compartment, and knew how to spend the rest of the time. Why not go through the deeds to the houses? Harry turned the key in the third compartment, and pulled out about twenty of the top ones.
Counting through, he saw that he'd taken exactly eighteen, and decided that would be enough for now. Wizarding deeds, he saw, were quite different to Muggle ones; not only did they have the name of the owner and so on, but they also had (he was glad to see) brief descriptions of the buildings. Unfortunately, they didn't have the photograph which toured around, like the estate agents had in Hogsmeade, but it was enough.
The first one Harry looked at was to the Potter Estate, which he read was a manor in Wales. It had five bedrooms, eight acres, and stables that would hold ten horses; it sounded to Harry like the Potter version of Malfoy Manor, although he had no idea whether the Malfoys' home was larger or smaller.
The second was a studio apartment in Manhattan, with three bedrooms, and the third was a cottage in England with just the two bedrooms, though it included two acres of woodland. There was also, to his utter disbelief, larger places than even the Potter Estate; the fourth was named Snowcap, and was what sounded like a wooden ranch in Switzerland, which had seven rooms and nine acres of grounds.
Skipping past an apartment in Tokyo, Harry paused again at 'The Golden Palace'. Unfortunately, it wasn't actually a real palace, but a large hotel in Las Vegas, which not only had its own restaurant, casino and three pools, but also one-hundred and eight rooms and suites for customers. Harry only wished that there were pictures on the deeds, so that he could know what these buildings actually looked like.
'First thing I'm going to do after Hogwarts is buy a limousine,' Harry grinned. 'Or a Rolls Royce - Hell, why not both? It's not as though I've got to watch my budget.' He snapped out of his fantasies involving champagne, cars, a motorbike - well, Sirius had one! - and bodyguards, and returned to reading some more of the deeds.
There was a huge 'house' in Kenya - though it sounded more like a mansion, as it had stables for twenty-five horse, covered twenty-one acres of excellent hunting grounds (though Harry felt quite sick at the thought of actually using it for hunting) and eight bedrooms. The final one he decided to check was a villa in the South of France, called Somer Vert; it included four acres and four bedrooms, as well as a pool.
Harry replaced the papers back in the trunk, and locked the compartment closed. There was still an hour and a half to go until lessons finished; reading a few papers had hardly taken any time, after all. To pass the time, he researched sword-making on the laptop - unfortunately it only contained information on normal and enchanted swords, rather than the ones that could be specialised for a soul, like Levina had mentioned. It was an interesting thought; just how many more facts were missing from the computer?
Certainly, there were less missing than there were the previous day; Levina had uploaded some new information on fighting with halberds, and Harry was quick to insert this into the rod along with the sword-making information. Ajax (who had reverted back into his 'I don't like human speech, so I won't do it if it isn't necessary' mentality) watched him from across the room, occasionally pecking at a bag of owl pellets that Dean had given him before lessons to shut him up. Harry wasn't sure whether they were okay for him to eat, but he seemed to like them.
---
When lessons ended at three thirty, the snow was still falling at the same rate. The only relief for Harry was that as it wasn't Quidditch season, he wouldn't be missing practices - though he didn't much like the idea of a morning jog in the two-foot-deep layers of snow, and was desperately hoping that it would have melted by tomorrow.
Unfortunately for Harry, the snow hadn't melted by the next morning, and though yesterday evening's BAT lesson had only been going through one of the previous years' BAT E-Level papers to show what kind of questions would come up if they were to attempt the E-Level, he still felt as though every inch of him was aching.
Steeling himself against the fact that he was going to get severely wet shoes, Harry cast a warming spell, grabbed his cloak, and wished that he could have breakfast beforehand, rather than afterwards.
He was right; he did get soaked, but a spell from 'Enchantments for the Journeyman' took care of that with a handy drying spell. As he tramped back indoors, shaking the slush from his dragonhide boots (after all, he was hardly going to go off in school shoes in that weather!), he realised he was trailing a puddle of melting snow behind him, and used the drying spell on his clothes as well, before fleeing to the Great Hall before Filch came.
"All right?" he greeted Ron and Hermione, slipping into place beside them at the table.
Hermione held up a parcel. "From Banbridge Pharmaceuticals," she told him. "Your Oxtamed."
Remembering the order he'd placed a few days ago, Harry thanked her and opened it. There were five of the grey bottles inside; two-hundred and fifty pills in total. "That should keep me going for about a week," he joked. "Seriously, it'll probably take me a good few months to finish all these off."
"Well, that pack of fifty didn't last you very long," Hermione pointed out, impaling some innocent bacon on the end of her fork. "Anyway, I don't suppose you've heard what's happening in two months time? Ron would be only too happy to explain, I'm sure," she added sarcastically, but Ron took over immediately.
"On Wednesday the seventeenth of January," he began, and Harry began to get a little nervous. Ron never remembered dates - except for his own birthday, Quidditch games, and holidays. "The most exciting event of the year - well, next year, anyway - will occur." Ron raised his hands as if waiting for a dramatic silence to befall all of the students. "On that day," he completed, "the Elemental Riders will be released into the market."
Harry's eyes widened. "The Elemental Riders! Ron, that's amazing! What the Hell is an Elemental Rider?"
Ron scowled. "No need to be sarcastic, I was just about to explain." He pulled the morning copy of the Daily Prophet up from where it was sitting on the bench beside him. "Look at this," he said impressively, holding it out.
Harry took it and unfolded it, beginning to read. At one side of the front cover, there was a large photo of some jostling photographers, trying to get a good snapshot of the main focus of the picture; a pair of men proudly displaying a huge, silver shield. The caption underneath it read, 'Lucas Ellerby and John Spudmore - winners of the annual Best Broom Award, bestowed by the International Quidditch League for their Elemental Riders'.
Intrigued, Harry looked at the main story.
Ellerby and Spudmore Rumours Verified!
For a while now, rumours have been circulating and theories were abound about the widely reputed 'super-broom' being tested just off the coast of England. In a press conference late yesterday evening, these rumours were found to be true, ascertained by none other than Ellerby and Spudmore themselves.
These two owners have been awarded the Best Broom Award, the highest recognition a broomstick can achieve, for the up-until-now, top-secret 'Elemental Riders' series. Only now has the knowledge of these top racers been make accessible to the public; but only thirteen Elemental Riders will also be made unrestricted.
Yes, only thirteen of these 'super-brooms' have been created, each one based on one of the elements that were supposedly able to be controlled; Earth, Air, Fire, Water, Light, Darkness, Music, Magic, Plants, Void, Celestial, Lightning and Weather. The design of these highly advanced brooms, which have been the company's best-kept secret for the four years they have been planned, are not being revealed at all.
The brooms themselves, however, and their names and appearances, will be revealed on Wednesday the seventeenth of January, when they will be displayed at the British Wizarding Museum in London, and made available to prospective buyers, who will be coming from all over the world.
They're certainly not cheap - one thousand, four-hundred Galleons is the starting price, though if there are multiple buyers, they will be auctioned off to the highest bidder - but Ellerby and Spudmore insists that none of them will ever be created again, which means that these are a once-in-a-lifetime offer.
The exact specifications of the brooms - speeds, materials, charms and limitations - are all being kept secret until the day of their release, but as they have not only won the Best Broom Award, but also the Innova Citation for the most original design, it's obvious that these aren't just your everyday Shooting Stars.
(For a history of the Ellerby and Spudmore company, turn to page three).
Corrie Spondant
"One word, mate," said Ron bluntly. "Cool."
"You took the word right out of my mouth," Harry laughed in amusement, still in awe at the sound of the Elemental Riders. "That would be about... three thousand, five-hundred pounds, right?"
Hermione scoffed. "Oh, honestly. Why would anyone pay that much for a broomstick?" She backed down under the boys' combined glares. "Actually, I think I'll be quiet now."
"Definitely worth it," Ron continued, as though nothing had happened. "I mean, everyone's going to be at the Museum now; the captain of every team in America and Europe, the press, the celebrities, the rich, the politicians; I mean, this isn't going to be a sale, it's going to be the 'Who's Who' list of the world."
"And of course, everyone will want one," Harry added, "so they'll all go to auction, and end up selling for about ten-thousand Galleons after everyone's finished bidding."
"Yeah."
"Yep."
"Uh huh."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"So, are you going to see if you can get away from school?"
"What else could I do?"
---
By Thursday lunch-time, the snow had first melted, then been replaced by another soft, white shower from above. Harry had researched some fighting, continued his lessons, read some more property deeds, and was now in the middle of researching potions for Dark creatures for his website.
He'd already uploaded the Wolfsbane potion for Werewolves, and was now looking for more; scanning down the page that 'Search' had come up with, he spotted a likely one - Canusabeo. He clicked on the link, and was rewarded with a summary of the potions effects, and the methods and ingredients to make it.
It was a complicated one, Harry saw at first glance. It would take at least two months to brew correctly, and it was highly sensitive; one ingredient at the wrong time, and it would have to be started from scratch. Going back to the top of the page, Harry checked the summary, and froze.
This was a potion that would cure lycanthropy.
This was a potion that supposedly didn't exist.
This was a potion that was right in front of Harry.
"Holy - " Harry cut himself off, slipped the rod into the laptop, and quickly inserted the potion information onto it. He 'read' through it carefully after he'd used it; it would take sixty-six days to brew, and the ingredients were hardly easy to find, or cheap. Was there some reason it wasn't used, Harry wondered; had it been lost? Was one of its main components extinct? Did it, for some reason, not work anymore?
Planning to think about that later, Harry returned to his information sifting. It would apparently have no effect on the Werewolf until the next full-moon, which was when the Werewolf would be in slight pain for a few minutes, before the potion would start attacking the appearing wolf genes and destroying them permanently.
Harry checked the method. He couldn't start it now, as the holidays began in a month, and he wouldn't be able to take it to Sweden with him - but he could make it in January, and would be finished before the term ended. Plus, it would take a while for him to gather the ingredients, anyway.
When he had made it, he could send it to St. Mungoes; they could test it to see if it worked, and wasn't just a sham, and then - Harry could barely believe this - the Werewolf Registration Act would be completely useless, because there wouldn't be any Werewolves. In fact, as lycanthropy could only be passed by a bite and hereditary genes (which would be destroyed anyway), it would completely eliminate the entire 'disease'.
Shutting down the laptop and putting it back in the trunk, Harry wondered about the effects of this. It meant that Remus Lupin could return to his teaching job - or any one he liked, actually; it meant that the years of Werewolf prejudice could just disappear; it meant that everyone infected co-
"Harry? Lessons are going to start in a minute." Ron said suddenly, making Harry jump. He spun around to see that Ron was poking his head into the room. "Hermione wanted me to remind you, in case you'd lost track of the time - look, you haven't even eaten your lunch..."
Harry noticed for the first time, the plate of uneaten sweetcorn and various other so-called healthy food, that Dobby had brought up. "Oh, yeah. Never mind," he said, grabbing his bag and pushing the books he needed into it. "I'm not that hungry to be honest; I was just saving the livelihood of several thousand Wizards around the world."
Ron rolled his eyes. "No need to be sarcastic; I was just stating a fact."
"So was I." Harry replied frankly. "I've just discovered a cure for lycanthropy. Anyway, what lesson's next?"
---
When Divination had ended, and after Potions, Harry stayed behind at the end of class. "Professor Snape?"
The Potions Master scowled at him, and continued labelling his vials and bottles of ingredients. "What, Potter?"
Harry pulled out the parchment that he had written the ingredients and method for the potion on during the lesson. "I was just wondering, sir, if any of these ingredients are - well, extinct, or hard to find, or expensive."
Snape scanned down the list. "Human blood? What on earth are you planning to make, Potter?"
Harry didn't know exactly what to say, so he muttered, "It's a cure I read about." Snape sneered at him.
"Oh? And you have some kind of a bizarre disease that you have to get rid of urgently - and instead of going to St. Mungoes, you have to make the antidote yourself? One that includes not only human blood, but -" He pulled the parchment away and peered at it. "A wolf's claw? Holy water? A blessed thistle? Melted silver? Potter, what the Hell is all this meant to be for?"
"Never mind, I just wanted to know. Sorry for wasting your time," Harry said quickly, knowing it had been a mistake to show it the Potions professor. He made to snatch it back, but the man pulled it further away.
"Potter, unless you tell me what this is for, right now, I'm going to take so many points away from Gryffindor that you're going to be in the negatives for the next five years. Got it?"
Harry hesitated, before giving up and muttering, "It's a potion I've been working on for a while. It's meant to cure lycanthropy."
Snape stared at him. "You? Design a potion?"
Harry shrugged. He wasn't sure if Snape believed him yet, so it was probably a good idea not to say anything.
The professor also remained speechless, and instead looked through the ingredients again, frowning. It was quite a long list, but he was experienced in reading lists of potion components, and was done quite quickly. After that, he scanned down the method that was written below. That took a few minutes, and when he was done, he looked at Harry. "This would take about seventy days to complete." he stated emotionlessly.
"Sixty-six, to be exact," Harry corrected. "So... is everything okay, then? I mean, the ingredients are all okay?"
The man pushed aside the bottles he had been marking, and sat down to read through the parchment again, more carefully. "None of these are extinct, but I don't know where you're going to be able to find some of these things. The ingredients seem... the right type for such a spell - though of course, until you test it, you don't know whether it's going to blow up in your face, or just not do anything at all. You've got an example of wolf DNA in the claw, human DNA in the blood; silver, holy items - blessed thistles are quite common in purification and hex-breaking spells, but the holy water would amplify that to make it far more powerful - then the rest of the herbs and ingredients should be quite easy to find; those are the only ones you should have trouble with.
"The method - apart from taking a long time to make, I'm sure you could find a way to cut it down somewhat, with a bit of research - looks like a combination of a healing, transfiguring and curse-breaking potion; that's the right sort of thing that should be done. If there was a potion to cure lycanthropy, I'm sure this would be what it was like - it might need a bit of tweaking, though, to shorten the length of time needed."
He looked at Harry thoughtfully. "Perhaps I should make this for you instead? As a Potions Master, I'd be more likely to get the timing right, and so on. And of course, I could analyse any changes that needed to be made, and see whether you've got it completely wrong."
Harry nodded furiously. "Would you?" he said excitedly. "I mean, is there any way I could help?"
Snape pulled a small sheet of parchment over, and started copying a few notes onto it from the list that Harry had given him. "See if you can hold of these," he ordered, giving it to the boy. "I'll take care of the rest of them."
Harry read the notes. He was, apparently, meant to gain possession of several herbs, and several stones of howlite, malachite, and turritella agate. They could quite easily be procured in Hogsmeade, in the gift shop, though he wasn't sure where he was going to get the herbs, now the apothecary had been closed down - he had no idea when it was going to reopen. "When do I have to get them by?"
Snape was making notes down the method. "I'll start next Saturday, so you have a week and a day."
Harry thanked him, slipped the parchment inside his robes pocket, and then sped out to find Ron and Hermione.
---
The pair were waiting for him in the library, and listened in titillation as Harry explained how his tutor had given him a rod to use which contained the cure for lycanthropy - after all, he still had to keep Techno-Magic secret.
"You could make millions with that!" Ron said in wonder. "I mean, all over the world, there's about five or six-thousand Werewolves; let's say they each paid a thousand Galleons for some of the potion, you'd be five or six million Galleons richer! But let's say you also managed to tweak it to some of the rarer forms of involuntary changes - like the Wererats of South America or the Werejaguars from Africa - that's another couple of thousand for each of those, so that's another two million! Eight million Galleons from selling a potion that existed anyway!"
Hermione looked shocked. "Harry, you're not going to sell it, are you?"
"No way," Harry denied vehemently. "If it does still work, I'll make sure all the magical hospitals give it out free when someone's been bitten, rather than send out advertisements as the only supplier. I mean, now Ron's pointed out the 'eight million Galleons' thing, I'm a bit tempted; but it's not as though I need the money, or that I even worked hard to invent the potion. In fact, all I did was show it to Snape, and I'm not even making it!"
Ron shrugged. "Well, it was worth a try. Hey!" he said brightly, "If it works, we'll be able to get Lupin back as Defence teacher next year!"
"Ron, we've still got Professor Figg." Hermione pointed out. "Do you think she's going to turn out to be a Death Eater or something before seventh-year?"
Harry zoned the approaching argument out, and instead mentally started designing the graphics for the website.
---
The next Tuesday was a huge milestone for Harry; that was the day he managed to complete his lion Animagus form. It stood about a hundred and eight centimetres tall at the shoulders, and was entirely covered in glossy, coal dark fur, with a thick, jet black mane. Its eyes, Harry discovered when McGonagall transfigured a plant into a large mirror, were not the normal amber ones of a lion; just like his fur was the normal, tawny-gold coat.
Instead they were a gleaming silver colour, even brighter against his ebony hair, and his pupils were pure black.
Hermione was quite a way through her transformation; she could now cover herself entirely in the elegant swan feather, elongate her neck, and grow a long, feathered tail; she was now working on getting her arms into proper wings, and hollowing out the bones to make them light.
Ron was only a little way behind her; he had managed to grow a wolf's tail, ears, front paws and legs, and was planning on growing fur and wolf hide over the rest of himself, now. The rest of the class were progressing well; Cho Chang, Harry noticed, had grown a cat's eyes, tail, whiskers, and her arms and legs had elongated and shifted until they looked completely different from a Human's.
"This calls for a celebration," Ron announced as they sat around the table in the Three Broomsticks after the lesson, congratulating Harry. He held up his mug of Butterbeer. "To us!"
Harry and Hermione rolled their eyes, but followed up the toast, holding their drinks of Butterbeer (actually in Harry's case, Pumpkin Juice) to meet his. "You know, it's only nine days until the holidays begin, seven days after that until Hagrid's wedding, and two more days until we go to Sweden?" Harry informed them in wonderment. "I mean, just think how quickly this term's flown by."
Hermione nodded. "I know what you mean. Of course, it's not as though it could drag by - not with murders, daemons, Animagi and Aurors to keep us all busy. But how's this for a thought instead - less than two and a half years from now, we'll be going out into the big, wide world, as fully-trained Wizards and Witches - as adults."
There was a moment of silence as the trio considered this information.
"We should make some kind of an oath," said Ron suddenly. "I mean, Harry and I've been friends since the train ride in our first year, and Hermione, you joined us that year as well - and we've all done so much together. We should have something like a promise to each other."
Hermione mused over that idea. "Ron, you're right. Something that we can all stick to. Harry?"
"It's a good idea; I'm in, if you two are," Harry said seriously.
Hermione smiled. "Right. Then we're all agreed. Let's make a Wizard's Oath - a vow to always look out for each other, right to the end of our lives. We may have our arguments or the occasional falling out, but not for long, and we'll always make up. We'll help each other if we need help, and in summary - we'll always be friends, the inseparable Gryffindor Trio. How about it?" she asked triumphantly, leaning back in an exalted manner.
"Done!" said Ron immediately, and Harry followed up with the same enthusiasm. "So, I'll correct the toast then," he added, holding up his mug. "To us - the undefeatable, inexhaustible, everlasting Gryffindor Trio!"
The others held up their drinks again, grinning widely. "I think we're getting a little too into this," Harry joked. "So then; five years from now, what are we going to be doing? Ron?"
Ron became serious again, and took a sip of his drink as he pondered this question. "I think," he finally decided, "that I'd like to be playing Keeper for the Chudley Cannons - be the one to bring back a repeat of their glory days. Have a nice big house, get my Apparition license, play for England. No chance, but I can dream."
"Don't say that," Harry insisted as he finished, "If you believe you can do it, you're never going to able to. I think that's a very likely future for you actually; though I think it would take you a bit longer to play for England. Hermione, where are you going to be in five years?"
The girl had, surprisingly, to think about this. "I really don't know," she admitted. "I have so many ideas, I'm not sure which one I'll go with in the long-term. But right now, I can see myself in the future as..." She poured some more drink from the half-full bottle into her mug, "A teacher." she decided, surprising the pair even more. "The Arithmancy teacher, perhaps. Just finished the Arithmancy and Teaching E-Levels; with a small house somewhere in Muggle London. though that would probably be too expensive to be realistic, and a Crup. Running S.P.E.W in my spare time." she added. "That would be great. But what about you?"
Harry shrugged. "Still have no idea. I mean, it's like I said ages ago - I don't want to be an Auror, because I've had enough of fighting Dark Wizards already; I don't want to be Magical Law Enforcer, because I wouldn't want to run around after petty criminals or underage-Magic; I wouldn't want to be a Quidditch player because I'd rather play for fun than for a professional team... I have no idea."
"Well, just because those are what everyone expects you to want doesn't mean they're the only ones you should think about," Hermione said smartly. "Forget what you don't want to do; where do you want to be in five years?"
Harry puzzled over this. "Well," he said slowly, "I'd like to take a year after school to travel around, see more of the world; that sort of thing. But after that, I don't know." He remembered Levina's old Atlantean job suddenly, and how quickly he had learned the languages. "Perhaps some kind of an ambassador," he suggested.
Hermione looked impressed. "Harry that's great! In the Department of International Magical Co-operation, Ambassadors are practically the highest job. And they get a high rate of pay, as well; over forty-eight thousand Galleons every year, as well as all their travel being paid for."
"If you do become an Ambassador, make sure you're in an Embassy in a nice country, instead of the Middle-East, though," Ron added with a small smirk. "Wouldn't want war to break out around you, would you?"
Harry gave him a mock-glare. "I only just thought of it, anyway. I'll probably change my mind by tomorrow."
The trio finished their drinks, still talking about their plans for the future, and headed back to the castle.
---
Two days later, at breakfast, another package arrived for Harry - this time, it was the herbs that were needed for the Canusabeo potion, as the apothecary (or so the sign on the window said) was still for sale. Harry had ordered them from Banbridge Pharmaceuticals a few days ago, and had bought the stones that were needed in the gift shop at Hogsmeade the previous Tuesday.
Harry passed the ingredients on to Snape in the Potions lesson that day, curious as to whether the potion would actually work. He didn't query him on this, though - he had been lucky enough to escape without points being taken from him for the entire lesson, and he wasn't about to spoil that now.
Gryffindor was still close behind Ravenclaw in the House Cup; just twenty-five points behind, which meant that Hermione and the sixth and seventh year prefects were bustling around the Tower snapping at anyone who was discussing a prank or joke that might lose them points. "It's not as though we're in the final term," complained many, but the prefects weren't accepting that excuse; "Slytherin is only thirty points behind us!" Hermione snapped at one offending third-year. "Every point we gain is an advantage, and every point we lose is a disadvantage!"
She returned to the others looking quite exasperated. "I swear, we were never like that," she sniffed, seating herself in one of the armchairs besides Ron and Harry, who were making an Exploding Snap card pyramid.
"No," said Harry, not looking up. "We just ran off to fight trolls, handle illegal dragons and steal Hippogriffs from the Ministry, but we never argued with a Prefect."
"Except for Percy," Ron added immediately, not looking up either. "But he doesn't count, because anyone in their right mind would argue with him. Plus, we were under Polyjuice at the time."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, honestly. I think you've made your points."
Harry couldn't reply, because at that moment the pyramid blew up, and he and Ron were forced to duck before they lost their eyebrows.
---
On Saturday morning, Harry received not only his Animagus license, which meant that he could now legally change into his black lion form whenever he wanted, but also information from the Daily Prophet; the latest article stated that the British Wizarding Museum would be closed on the evening of the Elemental Riders' release, only open to prospective buyers. It would open at five o'clock, and - though it was planned to end at eight - if there were multiple bidders (which there would certainly be), it had a chance of continuing long into the night.
Wondering whether he could gain permission from Dumbledore - and Levina, as his training was that night - to go to London, Harry managed to track down Professor McGonagall and ask whether he could be allowed. The teacher looked as though she thought it would be a definite no. "After all, it's only open to 'prospective buyers', it says," she pointed out, reading through the paper that Harry showed her.
"I do want to buy one." Harry replied honestly.
McGonagall looked a little surprised by this. "Well, they're very expensive," she said quickly, as though looking for a reason to stop him going. "The starting price is nearly a thousand and a half Galleons."
"That's all right," said Harry without really thinking, "I've got over six-million, anyway."
The professor gawked at him.
Three minutes of silence later, Harry started to become quite uncomfortable with the fact that she still wasn't blinking, and said carefully, "So... do you think I'd be allowed to go? I mean, it would be a big help for Quidditch."
"I'll see what I can do, Potter," the woman wheezed. "Excuse me, I must go." She drifted off in a dazed manner, still clutching the Daily Prophet.
"Well, that went well," Harry said brightly, and turned back to head up to Gryffindor Tower, where he looked up the British Wizarding Museum on the laptop, managing to find the ground plans, and memorising the layout.
It seemed that the presentation of the brooms would take place in a large hall-like area that was situated on the second floor; the bidding, he guessed, would take place in of the four conference rooms on the same storey. The only really surprising thing about the plans, Harry discovered, was that the building was actually, much like the Leaky Cauldron, between Diagon Alley and Muggle London; he guessed that it must be invisible to Muggles.
Alert for footsteps on the stairs, he read some more about the Museum and the artefacts within, before adding some information to his website, and shutting the laptop down.
---
Harry managed to get permission to skip the training on the night of the release, so it all came down to what Dumbledore had to say about it - and much to Harry's joy, the answer came the following morning that he would be allowed to go, as long as he was accompanied by a teacher in case of Death Eater attacks. 'Professor Carnaena' quickly volunteered, just managing to get the position before Figg offered her services as his bodyguard.
By Tuesday evening, the reports had come back that Ravenclaw had won the Chess Tournament against Slytherin, and would be up against Gryffindor in the finals. The Gryffindors who didn't have any interest in chess, however, were more concerned about the Holiday Ball the next day.
The trio were more affected than most, because none of them had dates. While Harry mourned the fact that he should have asked someone else to go to the Ball with him as soon as Cho threw the pots at him, Hermione wondered why she should even bother, and Ron bemoaned that even Ginny had a date - Ivan Gregor had asked her out again, though Ron swore passionately that it would never last.
"Well, of course it wouldn't." Dean said as he passed. "He's going back to Bulgaria in about seven months."
Ron thanked him by chucking a bottle of ink at him, which luckily didn't break.
Soon though, the night passed, the morning came and as two of the trio left for History, Harry returned to the dormitory from his jogging to begin attempting his cobra Animagus form - which he knew would be a lot harder than the lion, as it wasn't a mammal, and rather than changing his limbs he'd be absorbing them into himself.
When break-time came (and to be honest, Harry had made little progress, only managing to elongate and split his tongue to the forked one of a snake) , Harry ended his practice, and joined the others in making bets whether Pansy Parkinson would actually have a date, and if so, whether it would be Malfoy.
---
Transfiguration, lunch, and Care of Magical Creature followed, after which the students were forbidden to enter the Great Hall, in a way reminiscent of the Halloween party. When they were allowed in though, at six thirty, it had not been decorated with pumpkins and thorny roses, but holly, ivy and a gigantic fir tree, nearly as tall as the one that had been dragged into the entrance hall that morning.
Fake snow drifted from the ceiling and vanished as it touched the floor, and the tables were, if it was possible, laden with even more food than at the Halloween party. "Cool decorations," said Ron, impressed, as the band on stage struck up a merry tune. "I don't think they're as cool as the Halloween ones, though."
"No, but they're all right," agreed Harry, scooping a ladle of punch into a glass. "You know, I've discovered it's a lot easier if you don't have a date - you can just hang around and make sarky comments about everyone."
"Yeah, but you've never actually been on a date," Ron added. "I mean, you never even saw Cho at the party."
Harry paused. "Oh, who cares? It's the thought that counts," he said, shrugging and taking a swig of the punch.
"Tomorrow, the holidays begin," Ron announced happily. "Verily, we are freed upon the morn!"
"Thank you, Sir Cadogan," Harry said drolly. "I thought you'd be annoyed - you know, that we're staying with Krum and his family while we're in Sweden."
"Well, I was," admitted Ron, "but I don't think Hermione's interested in him - not that that's got anything to do with it," he said hastily, "and besides, I think I'm too full of the 'holiday cheer' stuff for my own good. You?"
Harry gave a half-grin. "Me? I'll just be happy to have some peace and quiet, instead of running around fleeing from daemons and dragons. It's just going to be a nice, relaxing, three-weeks' holiday. What could go wrong?"