The following morning, Harry woke with a start as he felt something was wrong.
He didn't know what, but threw off his duvet and ran through his bathroom door and burst through Hermione's like it was really made of wet paper instead of enchanted wood, not caring where the wooden debris fell as he neared Hermione who was thrashing in her sleep.
Before the last splinter had fallen, Harry had gathered Hermione into his arms and was gently rousing her.
Hermione's eyes shot open and she quickly realised whom it was that was holding her before she started crying and clinging to him.
Harry didn't hesitate in tightening his hold on her, and started whispering encouraging words to her, even kissing the side or top of her head at random intervals.
After some minutes, Hermione's sobs were reduced to hiccoughs and sniffles. Harry held her closely without showing signs of ending it.
Hermione eventually lifted her head and kissed Harry's cheek before starting to nuzzle into him and doze off again.
Harry was relishing in the warmth of her presence, and didn't really care if his shoulder was wet with tears as long as the one shedding them had stopped. He was too preoccupied with the delicious feeling of closeness to realise that neither of them were wearing much in the way of clothing. This wonderful feeling also caused Harry to feel sleepy, and he surrendered himself to the feeling, reclining on Hermione's bed with her still in his arms.
This was heaven as far as Harry was concerned. Laying in a warm bed with the love of his life snuggled comfortably into his side.
However, this is Harry Potter, and he hardly ever gets a chance to enjoy things before he was torn away from them.
'MR POTTER! MISS GRANGER!'
The outraged cry of their Head of House roused both teens enough to take in the carnage Harry had caused in breaking down the door, and the near purple colour professor McGonagall was turning.
'EXPLAIN YOURSELVES!' the deputy headmistress demanded, being uncharacteristically loud.
Hermione quickly realised their state of dress and pulled the duvet up to cover her chest.
'Hermione had a nightmare,' said Harry, completely unfazed by the steaming teacher. 'I came to comfort her, and fell asleep with her. Nothing carnal happened and we would not mind being tested to prove so.'
The calm tone Harry used must have placated the teacher, as her face went from purple to red, and her lips reappeared from where they had vanished in a thin line after her angry yell.
'Then at least put some clothes on, Mr Potter, and clean up the mess you made, professor Dumbledore wants to see you in his office, the password is Ice Mice,' sniffed McGonagall.
Harry hopped out of the bed after pecking Hermione's cheek, not really caring if he only wore one article of clothing to sleep and that he was in perfect view of his Head of House. He walked calmly through the bathroom, picked up his wand and flicked it at the splinters that littered Hermione's dorm, making them vanish as they were destroyed too much to be repaired unless the person doing it was willing to spend a week with a vat of glue and the millions of splinters in an attempt at piecing the thing together – something Harry wasn't very keen on doing.
Harry wasn't certain about when McGonagall left, but she was not present when he emerged from his dorm fully dressed for training, meeting Hermione in a similar state in their common room.
Hermione took Harry's hand in hers and pulled him along.
It was earlier than they were up normally, so there was not any hurry to get to the Room of Requirements before the others arrived. This meant that they could take their time speaking with professor Dumbledore, most likely about their conversation during the Yule ball.
At the gargoyle, Hermione gave the password.
The gargoyle leapt out of the way, and revealed the spiralling staircase, which the pair ascended.
'Enter, Harry, Miss Granger,' they heard through the door as they reached the top.
'You wanted to see us, headmaster,' said Harry.
'Indeed,' confirmed Dumbledore. 'Have a seat. I thought it prudent to converse with you about the topics the two of you discussed last night. But first, I understand that Minerva found the pair of you in Miss Granger's bed this morning … you both realise, of course, that this is a serious matter.'
Harry leap into the conversation. 'That only applies if one of the two parties disagrees,' memorising the handbook wasn't such a bad idea. 'And there has not been set precedence for this kind of situation yet, so the rules cannot apply.'
Dumbledore smiled his merry smile.
'I assumed you would point that out, Harry,' he chuckled. Hermione was uncertain about how to feel at the moment. Frightened at the thought of being expelled for being caught in bed with a boy. Awed and outraged at said boy's audacity at arguing with the headmaster. Or relief that the headmaster seemed to be in a good mood, which meant there would not be any expulsion. 'What I would like to know, however, is why and how long this has gone on.'
'This was the first time, professor,' Hermione chipped in quickly.
'That solves one part of my question … how about the other?'
'She was having a nightmare,' sighed Harry. 'I felt her fear and came as quickly as I could, we fell asleep after she calmed down.'
'Interesting,' commented Dumbledore.
'How so, professor?' asked Hermione, blushing from the memory Harry had described.
'You say you felt her fear, Harry?' Harry nodded. 'And Miss Granger, Hermione, you were at Harry's side not long after his barriers started dissolving at once, you felt his pain, perhaps? Not to mention how Harry managed to know you were in danger before you had arrived at your house this summer, isn't that right?'
'That's right!' Hermione breathed, as though something had suddenly dawned on her.
'Well, that solves that then,' chuckled Dumbledore. 'Now, on to your conversation last night.'
'How much of it did you understand?' asked Hermione. Harry preferred to remain standing and placed himself behind Hermione.
'A great deal of it, and I must commend you on your lingual knowledge … but back to the business at hand,' said Dumbledore and folded his hands in front of his face as he leaned forward in his chair. 'What spells were the two of you discussing so secretively?'
Hermione was most definitely uncomfortable under the old man's stare.
'Spells of our own creation, sir,' answered Harry calmly. 'And we would rather keep them a secret, or more appropriately, as an ace up our sleeves in the war against Voldemort.'
'Understandable,' agreed Dumbledore, 'but for your safety as well as the school's, I must insist on seeing these spells.'
Harry sighed in resignation.
'Very well,' he agreed and raised his hand. 'Caritas Arma!'
A brilliantly white sword appeared in Harry's hand. One could make out details, but there were no shadows or colours other than brilliant white. He held the sword vertically from his chest, causing the blade to rise in front of Harry's face, creating an ominous effect of a hardened warrior preparing for battle. He could see Dumbledore was impressed, and dissipated the sword before repeating the spell. A crossbow of similar material appeared in his hands, bolt ready to be fired at the squeeze of a finger. This is exactly what Harry did, and the bolt struck Dumbledore's desk not even an inch from the man's elbow, but left no physical mark.
'It is a weapon of similar Arithmancy construction to the Patronus, concentrating on love and speaking the spell will make the weapon of the caster's choice. It won't harm anything but evil creatures physically, but will inject a strong feeling of love and affection into any being hit, I hoped that this could destroy either Voldemort or dementors,' recited Harry.
'Most impressive,' said Dumbledore and attempted to touch the bolt that was embedded halfway into his desk, only to have his finger pass through it as though it were a ghost, but the expression on the man's face was far different than that of those that ever had the unfortunate luck of passing through a ghost. Instead of shivering in cold, a look of warmth spread on the man's face. Dumbledore turned to Hermione and watched her expectantly.
'You heard about my spell too?' she asked, already knowing the answer. Dumbledore nodded. 'I'll need a volunteer to perform it on,' she sighed.
'Providing that the spell is not lethal, I am at your disposal, Miss Granger,' stated Dumbledore and got from his seat. 'Fire away.'
Hermione nodded and stood as well, levelling her wand at the bearded man. 'Mutare Avicula Phylaca!'
A yellow beam struck the headmaster in the chest, and the man vanished to be replaced by a cage with a canary twittering inside. Because of the man's age, the normally colourful feathers of the bird had become dull.
'Finite!' said Hermione, releasing Dumbledore from the spell.
Dumbledore patted himself down for a few moments before taking his seat again. 'That was a most intriguing experience,' he commented. 'How did you manage the cage around me?'
Hermione blushed at the praise. 'The spell is in two parts, one transfigures the body into a bird, the second transforms the clothing into the cage. Only the caster, or someone knowing the password could undo it.'
'And the password is as simple as that?' asked Dumbledore.
'Not really, the password was unspoken and disguised by the Finite,' explained Hermione proudly.
'Harry's teachings no doubt,' said Dumbledore. The knowing twinkle in his eyes again made itself present. Again Hermione blushed. 'I assumed as much, it appears as though nearly all his students are capable of casting some spells without uttering anything, bar the freshest batch, although all in good time …'
'Indeed,' agreed Harry. 'We are starting the annual lesson over new years when the missing students return, followed by the Patronus and our own spells.'
'Excellent, my fears have been put somewhat at ease,' said Dumbledore grandly. 'However, I advise you to report those spells with the Ministry as soon as possible so you will not be fined or arrested for it – the creation of spells are best left to the professionals, as there might be unpredictable side effects to developing spells. Now, I think you have some time before your morning session for your personal training session – I'll keep you no more. But, a word of advice before you leave; keep your wits about you when dabbling in spell creation.'
'Of course, professor,' chorused the two and slowly made their way to the door.
'And remember to have fun!' called Dumbledore after them, 'After all, it's the season to be jolly!'
The pair smiled and walked calmly to the Room of Requirements where they would commence their daily training.
It was one of Harry's best Christmases to his memory.
It wasn't the presents, decorations or carols usually associated with this holiday, but rather the company he kept, namely Hermione.
During one of the snowball fights that the students held, he had a repeat of the previous Christmas, and went into a tumble with Hermione, burying them in snow, but that did not matter as they were plenty warm and intimate. Ron came upon them as they were kissing passionately in the snow, and pretended to be sick with disgust and revulsion.
The other champions spent some time with Harry, Hermione always within arms' reach of Harry, theorising what the next task would be.
At night, before they went to bed, Harry took Hermione for a ride through the castle on his back in his Animagus form, bursting through shadows and leaping the moving staircases. All the while, Hermione would squeal like an excited little girl that is given a piggy-back ride.
The door to Hermione's room through the bathroom had yet to be replaced, but a system was developed so Harry wouldn't walk in during something, or Hermione would do the same. This system went against every rule Hogwarts had about seemliness and decency; they slept on the same bed, although in their normal sleeping attire, should someone enter and assume something. It had been Hermione's suggestion, although she made it perfectly clear that she did not wish to progress to the next physical level of their relationship before they were married or at least out of Hogwarts. Harry agreed completely, although his body did not, causing him to take a cold shower more often than he normally did.
The NEWTs were not forgotten, and Hermione now insisted on at least thirty minutes of reviewing every night before bed. Harry already knew they had memorised everything Hogwarts had to offer, and a very great portion of the Library as well, but they made a game of it, and enjoyed the intimate time together. Once or twice did Ginny join them, toning down the game somewhat, as she wished for a head start on her own seventh year. Ron rolled his eyes at the three of them, studying nearly six months before the NEWTs, ('How bookish can you get?')
More times than one did Ron and Luna get caught under mistletoe, or that was their story. Harry did not press the matter, as it would be meddling in other people's affairs, literally.
The same day the students returned from their holiday, Dumbledore announced the date of the next task, at the end of January. He also added that the champions should be prepared for anything.
Lessons became more interesting, in Harry's opinion, when professor Moody went on to teach things that even few Aurors knew, all because of Harry's teachings bringing results in his class. The only ones to protest were those not in the DA, as they had not gained the knowledge the DA members had.
Harry took the headmaster's advice, and spent more time in the Room of Requirements, making it simulate all kinds of creatures for him to battle, subdue or capture. Hermione was there with him, oddly enough thinking of this as quality time.
During one session where he had to kill a dragon, Harry added a small twist to the training.
He managed to slay the Chinese Fireball dragon with a conjured sword plunged into its head, causing it to crash into the ground near Hermione, and its mouth fall open. Inside the mouth was a black box, which fell at Hermione's feet. She had picked it up and opened it, gasping in surprise at the beautiful gold ring inside. It was a gold band with a gaping lion's head, and in its maw was a ruby heart. The inscription; "To my Love, Forever, Harry" was etched inside.
Harry appeared in front of her, on one knee, and took the ring out, carefully, offering it to her.
'Hermione Granger, would you do me the honour of considering spending the remainder of my life with me, even if I can be rather thick at times, and emotionally stumped at most times? I know I am not worthy of this devotion or your beauty, so I can understand it if you say no, but I would thank the heavens for each and every day you agreed to be with me,' said Harry, doing his utmost to retain eye-contact, and to keep his voice and courage steady. Hermione now held his heart in her hand, her reply would either cause it to soar in happiness or fall to the floor to be trampled on.
'YES!'
Harry had hoped for this answer, but hadn't counted on such an enthusiastic reply, and suddenly found himself unable to breathe from the combined efforts of Hermione's arms and mouth.
The month passed in a blur because of Harry's constant state of activity, and he was soon waiting in the locker room of the Quidditch pitch with the other champions again. The other champions were much more nervous than he was. The female ones had even stopped chasing him after Hermione had casually shown them her engagement ring. The news had made the Daily Prophet not a day after the event had taken place, and Harry didn't mind them printing it because it was a declaration that Hermione had chosen him of her own free will, not because of some crazy rule or threat or because of his celebrity status.
The door to the pitch opened to reveal the headmasters and headmistresses - curiously absent was the Minister for Magic - with a background of a less dense jungle.
'We'll be brief, as we know you are all looking forward to the third task, which will be the second-to-last official task of this Championship,' stated Dumbledore. 'You will face a Tebo each, slay it, and skin it. The hide will be used later.'
'As you might have noticed, Minister Fudge is not with us today, as he had more pressing matters to attend to,' stated headmistress Saijin. All the adults hid a smirk or snicker. Harry could have sworn he heard someone add 'pressing in his intestines' to the statement, and understood the Minister to be having a bad day of stomach flu, causing Harry to start a chuckle which he killed shortly after starting.
'The task will start momentarily,' finished Dumbledore and swept out of the locker room with the others, closing the door behind them.
Harry seated himself in a meditative pose and started focusing on the task ahead.
This was not going to be easy, but it would be easier than skinning a live Graphorn, despite the Tebo's ability to turn invisible.
'Would Samantha Johnson please come out onto the pitch,' requested Dumbledore's magnified voice.
Harry opened his eyes to see the glass had come to life, depicting a more sparse jungle than the last one, and with apparently older trees and foliage.
Sam made her way in, having learnt the hard way not to crash through the woods with some creature waiting for her.
Unfortunately, Sam did not predict the chance that the warthog like creature would be invisible, something she learned when something squealed angrily and ran her down. Harry could see her arm sticking out in the wrong direction, but she seemed to have some manner of luck, as her wand fired a spell that blew half of the Tebo to pieces.
Harry could see the disgusted and pained grimace Sam had on as she cradled her arm to her chest and saw her work. This grimace worsened as she remembered that she had to skin the corpse of her now very visible grey warthog. Harry also saw that she had practiced skinning curses for the task, as she managed to skin the creature despite her pain and queasiness at the disgusting task she was performing.
When she had finished, she pulled herself to the nearest bush and released the content of her stomach.
Harry winced in sympathy. Retching was not a pleasant experience, although he could only remember doing so twice, not long after Cedric had been killed, from the pain, and then again when he had the vision of Mr Weasley being attacked by a giant snake, both times he had not been completely present in mind, but it was still unpleasant.
The score; five, six, four, six and five flashed before being added to the total sum which ended at seventy-three.
Madam Pomfrey hurried onto the pitch to assist the champion off to the hospital wing to have that arm looked at, and to give her something to settle her stomach.
One or two wizards hurried onto the pitch to clean up the mess.
Bruce was next, and Harry couldn't help but remark how he always seemed to be so reckless. As he had with the Graphorn, Bruce managed to locate the Tebo, mount it and ride it like a bucking bronco, waving his bandana in the air.
After nearly a minute of fun for Bruce, he conjured a large spike in the Tebo's path, while blinding it with his bandana, easily killing the beast. The sudden halt caused him to fly head first into a tree, but he quickly got to his feet and made his way to the dead Tebo. And to make things even more disgusting, the boy conjured physical tools to skin the corpse, taking his time and showing some manner of experience in the trade.
Once he finished, Bruce vanished the corpse and cleaned the hide before wobbling off the pitch, met halfway by madam Pomfrey, whom Harry could tell started to chew the boy out immediately, using Harry as an example by listing all the times he had visited her in her wing, unwillingly.
His score of; six, seven, five, seven and five flashed before being added together with the previous scores, totalling at eighty-nine, and placing him in the lead, so far.
Kasumi was next, and showed great nerves about this as she stepped onto the pitch.
Kasumi had also learned from Sam's previous mistake, and had not barged into the jungle like a rampaging rhino.
However, as the Tebo was invisible, it caught her by surprise, but only enough for her to leap aside and sprain her wrist.
The submissive housewife attitude vanished from the girl like mist before the sun, and she fired a reductor curse at the still speeding Tebo, made visible by the clove prints it left behind. Not a moment after the curse was fired, the back half of the Tebo was blown away in a blaze of fireworks, and the rest of the carcass skid along the ground.
A queasy look passed over Kasumi's face before she determinately raised her wand and skinned the creature, then imitated Sam by having a reunion with her breakfast in a bush.
Harry winced once more in sympathy as Kasumi's score of; four, six, four, five and four flashed and merged with the total score, leaving it at eighty-two.
Ngame gave Harry a nod of recognition as he passed him to enter the pitch. Harry watched the glass as Ngame started his turn.
This seemed to be something Ngame was an expert at.
He calmly walked into the jungle, alert and ready. Harry saw the look of concentration, which also showed he was watching for the slightest sign of movement on the ground.
Suddenly the boy dove out of the way and fired a blinding hex at seemingly empty space.
A grey warthog appeared in the air, shaking its head furiously as though trying to shake off the hex. A quick cutting curse decapitated the Tebo before another attempt was made, and set about skinning the still warm corpse with the same casual attitude that Bruce had, not using magic for anything but making tools until the skinning had been done.
The steaming carcass of the Tebo was vanished once the job of skinning it had been finished, and held the cleaned hide and the Tebo's head on a spike up in triumph.
Harry watched the boy's score; eight, nine, nine, eight and nine added to his total score which now reached one hundred and seven.
Privately, Harry applauded the hunter for being the only one not to get injured in this task, and for performing it so professionally.
'Harry Potter.'
Harry got up at the sound of his name, and calmly went outside.
As before, the inside of the pitch was as silent as the grave, something that would have unnerved him in the past, but at the present, he relished in it.
Having thought of a plan of action, Harry raised his wand, and slowly started an incantation.
His senses of magic stretched out around him to chart down every single shape around him for several hundred metres. It was slightly surprising to "see" that Hermione had forgotten her underwear today, but he returned his attention – with great difficulty – to the here-and-now, seeing that mist emerged from his wand, and blanketed the pitch so thick that if he were to hold his hand before his face, it would not be visible until it was nearly touching his nose.
In the mist, Harry could hear the annoyed and desperate squeals and grunts of the Tebo. One or two thuds and rustles told him, by sound alone, that the invisible beast had banged into several trees and through some shrubberies, his "sight" told him that the Tebo would tear itself apart in its mad dash through the jungle if he didn't stop it, and it would diminish the value of his hide.
Set in his mind, Harry dashed at the beast, dodging trees and leaping shrubs expertly, heading directly at the Tebo.
What little sound he made had caused the Tebo to recognise his location and it seemed a strong believer of the saying of "the only good defence is a strong offence" if its determination was anything to go by.
Ten feet from his target, Harry launched a vertical and low cutting curse while leaping into the branches above.
Once he was high above, Harry "saw" the curse connect with the Tebo, effectively slicing through it completely, leaving only a thin piece of hide holding it together along the spine.
The corpse of the Tebo continued forward, for a moment unaware of its own demise before its innards started falling out and everything split, as the corpse tumbled and skid on the ground.
As the final spasms of the Tebo ceased, Harry dropped to the ground and set to work, skinning the beast of as much hide as he could get. The innards, muscles, bones and cartilage was disposed of not long after the skin had been parted from the body. The inside of the hide was then cleaned of gore and blood.
Once finished, Harry stood, and dissipated the mists, leaving a clear view of him as he walked out of the jungle thicket.
He looked towards the teacher's box and saw the numbers; nine, nine, eight, nine and nine appear in the sky above them, before reforming into the number one hundred and twenty-one.
It came as a shock to him that he had that many points, as he hadn't bothered to remember his own score.
'Yes, well done, all of you,' Harry suddenly heard Dumbledore declare. 'The next task, although it is and unofficial one, is to use the hides collected to make clothing out of. Be original and practical, because you will need the protection the clothes will offer during the final task. You are of course allowed to use other material in the supplementation of the creation of your new clothes, but you will have to use the hides you have acquired. The final task will be ready by the beginning of April, and be prepared for anything.'
Harry did not waste time in getting to work on his next unofficial task.
The moment he returned to Gryffindor tower, he had started transfiguring the two hides into a mix of yarn and the two components.
He used Hermione's teachings of knitting to form the yarn into cloth, and the cloth was sewn and altered to become a turtleneck shirt and loose trousers with gloves, mask and boots to match. All of it black. If he put on a pair of tinted swimmers' goggles, not an inch of skin would be visible.
'Sexy,' Harry turned and saw Hermione eyeing him like a cat eyeing a canary in and open cage with a saucer of milk inside with it.
'That wasn't what I was going for,' Harry admitted, glad the mask was covering his face, 'but thank you all the same.'
Harry had been wearing the clothes to see if they fit, in the other case, he'd make the necessary alterations. It seemed to be a second skin and didn't restrict a single movement, yet it was not tight below his waist, and was thereby hiding the part of the male anatomy that females of his species usually looked at. The boots went halfway up his shins, and were held closed by a thread of the same material that the rest of the outfit was made of.
Hermione sauntered inside and wrapped her arms around him, letting the rest of her melt onto him. Harry could nearly have sworn he heard her purr.
'Have you decided what you want to do once you finish here?'
The question was one that Harry had asked himself several times.
'No, not yet,' he admitted. 'You?'
'I had planned on becoming an Auror, same as you,' she admitted, Harry could nearly feel the blush. 'But after the display during our Astronomy OWL, I wouldn't work for the Ministry if it paid all the money in the world.'
'That also leaves out Healer, Unspeakable and Ministry Employee,' added Harry.
'Quidditch is out,' continued Hermione. 'I'm not good with heights, and you're banned … not to mention the public attention is something I imagine you wouldn't want to have, even if you already are famous.'
'And we aren't exactly fit for raising animals,' added Harry, 'which makes breeders another miss.'
'We aren't comfortable enough to be in the public all day, so shop-keeping is also out,' continued Hermione.
'And although teaching is fun and rewarding, I wouldn't want to do it full time …'
'That rules out taking over as Potions Mistress and Defence Against the Dark Arts professor,' sighed Hermione.
'We could always take Muggle jobs,' suggested Harry.
'Not with the education we have,' interrupted Hermione, 'we'd need to take equivalency tests and get higher education for that.'
'That could be easily solved, if we put our minds together,' chuckled Harry. He remained silent for a moment, but suddenly started chuckling to himself.
'What's so amusing?' asked a worried Hermione, hoping he hadn't cracked.
'I just had an image of myself dressed as that movie archaeologist that always tried to outwit the Nazis,' he chuckled. 'Imagine, me in tan brown shirt and pants, whip in one hand and revolver in the other, hunting treasures, dodging traps and staying one step ahead of the competition.'
'Why not?'
'Excuse me?'
'We could work for Gringotts, as curse breakers, we could double as archaeologists in the Muggle world to cover our tracks,' explained Hermione.
'Not a bad suggestion,' agreed Harry. 'I seem to have friends in Gringotts, and we already know Bill, he could put in a good word … not that we'd need much of that …'
'But we do need someone to teach us proper protocol for Curse Breakers,' argued Hermione. 'Bill will do just fine, as long as you don't pick up any clothing and accessory habits from him …'
'Then it's settled,' finished Harry. 'I'll send Hedwig off to Gringotts with a letter of application for a job, and a request for instructor.'
Hermione folded the mask up Harry's face just enough to be able to kiss him properly.
'That's one less thing to worry over,' she sighed and led Harry to the table of their common room where their books were ready.
Time passed quickly with all the activities Harry was part of.
He and Hermione spent Valentine's Day alone in the Room of Requirements, having a romantic meal interrupt their intimacy every now and again. The whole day had been a day off for the DA, something some of the students appreciated, as they still had OWLs, exams and NEWTs to study for, and with their hectic schedule, a day of studying was not easy to come by, and they had other subjects to study apart from Defence Against the Dark Arts.
The fourth and final task arrived before Harry knew it, and suddenly he and the other champions – all clad in their personally produced clothes - were led in a different direction than the pitch.
The variations of the outfits was as different as night and day.
Kasumi, a proudly dutiful girl, was very talented in mending and making clothes, and her charms work left little to be desired. Her traditional pale kimono was not decorated with much in the way of patterns, and she had confessed that she wore more practical clothing underneath so she would have her modesty concealed in case of a movement her clothing had not been meant to be exposed to. She had gotten the same idea as Harry, mixing the two hides into thread, but had chosen silk in favour of wool.
Sam, who did not have much material to work with had obviously had difficulties in transfiguring the hides into different forms, and the result was a pair of shorts that were incredibly snug, along with a top, both in a light tanned colour that nearly blended with her skin, leaving incredibly little to the imagination. The quality of this miniscule outfit was visibly poor, and Harry hoped for her sake that she had used sticking spells on the seams to keep it from falling apart when she moved.
Bruce appeared to have as much of a fashion sense as he had common sense, and had on regular clothing, and had only made a new bandana out of the hides.
Ngame had made a pair of long shorts with decorative flaps in front and back, and the blended hides had been stretched over a few sticks, making a shield not all that unlike the native African ones. The front of his shield was decorated with and angry face. On his feet he wore moccasin like shoes, as the ground was not yet warm enough to go barefooted, even for native Britons.
Harry wore the outfit he made, but kept the mask – which had now been equipped with tinted goggles through the eye holes – in his hands so his face was seen, and so no one could accuse him of hiring someone to do the job for him. There should be no doubt of his identity.
Harry recognised the setting from the Triwizard Tournament, and instantly knew what they were facing.
The five champions were led to a tent where Fudge was waiting with a very familiar bag in his hands.
This bag was held out.
'Come on, pick one,' the man exclaimed impatiently as he did a funny stationary jig. Apparently, his bowel problem had either not gone away or resurfaced.
The champions reached into the bag in the order they had entered.
Kasumi reached in first and pulled out a miniature dragon, a Norwegian Ridgeback.
Sam then pulled out a Chinese Fireball.
Bruce pulled out a Hebridean Black.
Ngame then pulled out a Swedish Short-Snout.
Harry reached in, now knowing that there were dragons about that they had to face, and grabbed the remaining dragon statuette. A Hungarian Horntail. The tiny thing grinned mockingly up at him from his hand. The thing lacked a number, which meant the order was already determined, and if the previous tasks were anything to go by, they would go out according to points, low-to-high. This meant he would be last.
'Good,' sighed Fudge, 'now you just wait here, your bridles are placed outside the tent for you, and you will emerge when called for, you will have to fit the bridles onto your selected dragon to finish the task, style and time makes your score, now if you'd excuse me!'
The podgy man raced out of the tent so fast that his bowler nearly fell off in the wind resistance, if not for the fat hand holding it in place.
The headmasters and headmistresses smirked knowingly as they watched the shrinking figure of the British Minister for Magic.
'Good luck,' chuckled Dumbledore as he herded the other adults out of the tent, heading for the stands.
Harry sat down on the ground in a meditative pose and placed the figure of the Hungarian Horntail before him.
The others paced the tent, or rather, Sam and Kasumi huddled together in a corner and tried to calm down for what they would be facing, while Ngame and Bruce paced the tent.
Sam was shaken from her shivering by the booming voice calling for her.
This time, there was no glass to look through, and there was no silencing spell in place to shield the noise, making each roar and shriek audible. Harry remembered this same scene taking place three years earlier, but unlike that time, Harry was now prepared to battle, subdue, or evade nearly any creature he had read about. Still, there was a small amount of nerves that decided to make themselves known.
Compared to the past months, time now passed excruciatingly slowly. The roaring of beast and crowds was heard clearly, and it wouldn't surprise Harry if Muggles could hear it somewhere on the other side of the forbidden forest or over the mountains that surrounded this area.
A short pause in the din coming from the arena caused the other champions to look up, waiting for either frightened gasps or –
A roar of applause and cheers nearly deafened the four after the short pause.
Kasumi squeaked as her name was called, and walked out the tent opening in the same manner as condemned prisoners "walking the mile."
Not long after, the roar of the new dragon was heard over the excited cheers of the crowds.
Harry centred himself, and battled his will to extend his magic to "see" what was going on in the arena. That would be cheating if the headmasters and headmistresses had decided to keep the glass plane out of the tent, and he didn't want to cheat.
The din quieted for a moment –
Gasps were heard plainly immediately after the screech of a dragon. Harry thought he heard something else, but waved it off.
A scattering of mild applause followed along with worried conversation, of which nothing could be discerned, signalling that Kasumi survived and was somehow getting out of the arena.
This wasn't good. All the champions had been able to finish their task before, if they started losing now, it meant there was something more difficult than anticipated. Harry could see the nerves more visible on his fellow champions' faces.
Bruce actually looked slightly green as he answered the call of his name and exited the tent.
Harry tried carrying a conversation with Ngame in his native tongue, but the din of the arena drowned it out. However, they managed to hear each other for long enough to make it known to Ngame that Harry spoke his language, something he seemed excited about, as that thrice damned translation spell sometimes translated wrong, due to the parameter set. The spell was not meant to translate idioms or sayings so they would make sense, no, it only did its job of translating directly, which most often jumbled up the order of the words.
A loud gasp of sympathy was followed by a screech of victory.
Harry gave Ngame an encouraging wave as he answered his call.
He was now alone in the tent, and the nerves were starting to make themselves better known.
It felt like his insides were trying to escape through his mouth, and the taste of bile made him feel ill.
This was all very natural, considering that he was about to face a dragon, and the type of dragon that was reputed to be the most vicious of them. And this time, he had to come up close to it, most likely without the aid of a broom. With his luck the Horntail he faced last time spread the word and they all now held a grudge against him.
No time to lose your head, Potter, he thought to himself. Not everyone is out to get you.
No, just Voldemort and all his followers, he retorted. Great, I'm arguing with myself. No one will question my insanity if they found that out.
Harry was not looking forwards to his turn, but who would when faced with a grown dragon that most likely would do anything to maim or kill them?
A loud cheer announced that Ngame had finished.
'Harry Potter.'
As Harry stood, he felt his stomach settle, and his determination taking over.
With mask in hand, Harry strode confidently out of the tent and with his free hand grabbed the bridle left outside, before entering the open gates of the arena.
On the other end of the arena, a huge Horntail was sitting, waiting, and eyed him much like an insect was viewed by a toad.
The only positive thing Harry could manage to find, was that the Horntail wasn't nesting, which meant it wouldn't be as defensive.
Slowly, Harry pulled on the mask, and hefted the large silver bridle onto his back. This was not for effect, as some might have assumed, no, he was attempting not to make any sudden moves that could startle the dragon into action before he was ready.
There was a glint of recognition in the Horntail's eyes.
'Oh, bugger,' groaned Harry as he realised that this was not only the same species of dragon as the last time, but actually the same one. This was bad. He could have sworn the over sized lizard was grinning at him.
The doors behind Harry had just closed when a jet of fire was shooting at him.
Not wanting to become a living bonfire, Harry jumped aside. He could feel the heat through his clothing, but the Graphorn hide in it protected against the damage the heat would have caused. He now understood the reason for the production of this outfit. It was to act as a form of armour.
He had to dodge another jet of flame shortly after, convincing him that this was no time for musing.
This game of dodge, which drew nearer the dragon for each turn, continued for a short while, until Harry saw one jet he could not avoid. Instead he braced himself, using every skill he possessed as a shield so he'd at least survive.
The crowds gasped in terror as the Boy-Who-Lived was enveloped in flame hot enough to melt stone upon direct contact.
As the flames ended and the Horntail was about to shriek in victory, everyone were shocked to find that instead of a charred spot, there stood Harry as whole and unscathed as before the flame hit him. The magic shield flickered out of existence, and Harry looked up at the dragon, slightly miffed at the delay which now had cost him precious time.
Not wanting to have another delay, Harry raced directly at the dragon.
Now the battle was too close for the Horntail to fire its flames, so instead, it started batting at him with her tail, and swatting at him with her clawed arms.
Harry, who had his skills and magic to back him up, dodged, ducked and leapt over the sharp appendages. He had steadily advanced at the dragon during the clawing, dodging, thrashing and swiping, and on a pass of the spike covered tail, grabbed hold and started climbing along the dragon's spine, using the fact that it could not reach as an advantage.
The Horntail was thrashing like mad, and attempted to roll over and squash him, but the spikes lining the spine and the hard ground created a space between the body and the ground, enough of it for Harry to hide in as he climbed up the back of the dragon, using his skill and magic to cling onto the hide and spikes.
The Horntail coiled its long neck in an attempt at dislodging Harry, but it was for naught. Harry clung to the dragon like a wandering birthmark, slowly crawling up towards the head.
Once Harry reached the top, he used one hand to steady himself, and the other to execute a throw that would hook the bridle into the gaping mouth while remaining attached to the reins in Harry's hand. Unfortunately, the dragon had realised his plan, and was doing her best to dislodge, swipe or buck him off.
Three tries were needed to get it right, as the two first had to be aborted before even starting.
The moment the bridle was secured, a saddle appeared just behind the dragon's head, but not long enough down the neck to be vulnerable. The long horns at the top of the Horntail's head would help shield against attacks if he was under fire.
'Well done, young one.'
Harry leaned back in the saddle and held on to the reins, looking about for the source of the voice.
'I have not had a rider before,' the female voice continued, 'and neither has my kin for several generations. No wizard or witch has ever managed to mount one of my line without the aid of others. You have indeed changed since the last time we met … for the better, I'd say. And so – it would seem – does your mate.'
Harry was astonished as he discovered that he had been sitting on the source of the voice. The Horntail was speaking with him.
'Yes, I speak,' the Horntail snickered, which was a very disturbing thing when her form and size was taken into consideration. 'Serpents aren't the only ones who speak Parseltongue, all reptiles do, just varying languages and dialects of it just like human tongue. Yes, I know much of you, young Harry Potter. One of our keepers at the reserve is quite fond of you, one would think he was your brother, but his hair was red. Told me all about your adventures, although he probably never thought dragons are smart enough to understand. Apparently, the keepers get very lonely and start conversing with anything that moves to keep the ability alive.'
'Really?' asked Harry. 'Charlie talks about me to dragons?'
'Indeed,' agreed the Horntail. 'And that you did not return spells for fire proves your nobility. My young and I thank you for not using the only known weak point we have.'
Harry was glad his face was covered in a mask, as he hardly ever handled praise well.
'What do I call you?' he asked after getting himself back under control. 'It's not like I can just call you "Dragon", can I?'
'No, my name is Barbed Tail, or just Barb for short if you'd like. I have learnt how frustrating humans find it with long names.'
'OK, Barbie, what happens next?' asked Harry, deliberately making the nickname more familiar.
Barb seemed annoyed at the change, but remained calm.
'I will lower my head for you to climb off,' she said, 'and I will forever be in your service. If you are ever in need of me, call my name. And there is no way to change my mind about it.'
'Let's get to it then,' sighed Harry.
Barb lowered her head to the ground, and waited for Harry to dismount.
'Thank you,' he added as he once more stood on firm ground.
'It has been my pleasure, young one,' chuckled Barb. 'I will do my utmost to assure that no dragon gets involved in the coming war, as a thank-you for sparing my children three winters ago. We dragons have a bad name because of a few bad eggs, it is time we rectified it by not joining any sides at all.'
Harry pat Barb's muzzle and walked off towards the exit.
The now docile Barb rose and roared a command, which was returned by dragons outside the arena. The audience was obviously not at ease with the roaring dragons, as shrieks were heard mingling with the roars.
Not many seconds after having started his walk, Harry was once more bowled over by Hermione.
Harry wasn't bothered by it, nor did he care about his score, as his whole concentration was centred on a pair of brown eyes hovering above him.
Whatever Hermione had planned on saying remained unspoken as he felt his mask pealed back and soft lips touching his.
The pair were suddenly lifted into the air and turned ninety degrees so they were upright before they were placed on the ground.
The other four champions gathered next to the still kissing pair, although all of them had some manner of burns on their exposed skin, and the two that did not manage their task were half unconscious and in wheelchairs, wrapped up in bandages. Their headmasters and headmistresses gathered behind their champion, and photographers from all over the wizarding world gathered in front of the group to take pictures as the Minister for Magic hurriedly distributed medals and trophies.
Before Harry and Hermione gathered themselves from their kiss and senses their surroundings, the photos had been taken, and everything had been awarded. At Harry's feet stood a trophy that reached his chest, and hanging from one of the two handles on the sides was a gold medal. Both medal and trophy declared that Harry Potter was the World Wizarding Champion, the best of his generation.
'Mr Potter, a word, please!' called several reporters, in varying phrasings of the same sentence. 'How do you feel at this moment, having won the World Wizarding Championship, one of the most prestigious awards and competitions in the wizarding world?'
Harry didn't much want to answer, something Hermione must have sensed, so she replied for him.
'I'm sorry, but Mr Potter and I have to study for our NEWTs, which is right around the corner, if you'd excuse us,' with that, she pushed her way, and Harry's as he was still being clung to, through the throng of reporters in the direction of the castle.
The reporters that had just been brushed off chuckled or giggled at the obviousness of her comment, before scribbling down something.
In the Trophy room of Hogwarts, a new trophy was erected on an honour spot.
This was Harry's trophy, which he felt selfish for keeping, so he donated it to his school. Not many students bothered to visit this room to view the former glories of the school, so there was no reason for accusing him of doing this to show off, although Malfoy still attempted to convince everyone of it.
Harry didn't care about the rumours that Malfoy was attempting to spread, and merely contented himself with carrying on, teaching, studying, reading, working on his spells, and spending intimate moments with Hermione.
The visitors had not yet left, and weren't going to leave before the end of the year, so the guests that had joined the two duelling teams were greatly looking forward to the competition at the end of the year, nearly as much as everyone else.
The article printed the day following the task, stating that the Greatest Wizard of the Generation was being kept on a short leash, did not bother Harry one bit, as he had authorised it, feeling that it was time something came out about him that was not flattering, but not insulting either. And the leash bit hadn't been long or the main part of the story, so everything was fine. Hermione's face coloured slightly from this article, but she didn't exactly complain about it.
The NEWTs passed startlingly easily for Harry and Hermione, although Hermione couldn't stop complaining about that one answer she knew she had gotten only half right. It was one of the traits Harry found adoring about her, her ability to be displeased with herself even after probably getting the best score recorded. Harry knew of one or two slips he had done during the tests, but he kindly didn't mention anything for fear of Hermione's wrath or sympathy. He wasn't even certain that the examiners had noticed his slips.
The week prior to the NEWTs, Ron was shaking answers to his questions out of any student above fifth year that unwittingly wandered within reach, and after the week of exams were over, collapsed in a common room chair, groaning and bemoaning his inability to recall much of anything.
Harry still chuckled somewhat the time between their exams when an unfortunate first year had crossed paths with Ron. The poor boy had gotten fifteen points deducted for breathing too loudly.
The competition between the Duelling Club and the DA ended very poorly for the Duelling Club, even considering that the terrain had no places to hide. Apparently, the only thing they learned from last year had been not to stand still for too long, and to weave between their own members to keep from being hit. The entire thing didn't even last one minute before the last Dueller fell, and not a single DA member had fallen once.
After that competition was over, Harry passed the mantle of captain of the DA over to Ginny, as Luna – who had been the first choice – declined the offer. Ginny promised not to let his work go to waste, and that she'd use the manuals he had left in her care to teach the others.
That night, Harry witnessed the crating of his statue of Hermione with a lump of nerves, hoping that it wouldn't fall and break.
The House Cup was awarded to Gryffindor because of the lack of a biased Head of Slytherin to award points to his house without reason, and deduct unjustly. The Great Hall was once again decorated in red and gold banners, along with the Defence Association banner.
The farewell to the other champions was somewhat emotional, as they had all gone through some tough things together – in a way.
Harry suddenly realised that he was on the Hogwarts Express, with Hermione cuddled up to him, Ron and Ginny bickering about something or other with Luna leaning against Ron, and Neville nursing a cut that his toad Trevor had gotten.
He had no idea how things had passed so quickly. It seemed only yesterday he was heading back from Hogwarts after watching Sirius fall through the veil in the Department of Mysteries. At that time, he had been alone in the world, and thought he had no hope. Now, he had a fiancée, a title as the best of his age, allies within several magical races and creatures, more skills than he had dreamt possible a mere two years ago, and the future looked brighter than the sun.
For now, he sat back and enjoyed the simple pleasure of being near the woman he loved, having her rest her beautiful head against his chest and her delicate fingers, slightly callused from thumbing through books, writing with quills and the training he had put her through, play with the breast pocket of his shirt. He felt like a cat that had found a nice warm beam of sunlight, or a snake that had found a nice flat and warm rock. He stood in danger of falling asleep, thus was the level of his comfort.
The group enjoyed themselves greatly, and Hermione took it upon herself to treat them all to candy when the old witch with the lunch trolley came by.
Harry found it curious that Malfoy had yet to grace them with his presence, and a chill running up his spine told him that it was not a good thing.
It was getting dark when the train arrived at King's Cross. It was not much of a twilight, but then again, summer was just starting and it would grow lighter during the night for still a few weeks before the process reversed.
Harry took his and Hermione's trunks on the same trolley to save them the trouble. After all, the Grangers had been moved to Grimmauld Place for their own safety at some time during the year, and that very same address would be Harry's home as well until he could get a job and find a house of his own.
He and Hermione emerged on the other side of the barrier, and were careful to act as though they hadn't just walked out a brick wall.
The advance guard appeared shortly around the two, and the other four of the teenage group arrived not long after.
In the advance guard was none other than Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, Mundungus Fletcher and Kingsley Shacklebolt. There might have been others about, but these were the visible ones.
'Come on, Harry, best get a move -'
Lupin got no further before a red bolt slammed into Dung, sending him into a sprawled heap.
This one act unleashed hell on earth, or so it would seem to the poor Muggles that were caught in the middle of a wizarding war.
Death Eaters appeared all over the station, and a sudden chill signalled that Voldemort had found a way of Summoning dementors of his own.
A yell alerted Harry to the appearance of DA members, and they soon spread out and returned fire, just as rehearsed in the Room of Requirements. He felt rather proud as he witnessed the cool and collective commando tactics they employed in this battle. The Death Eaters seemed very intent on killing Harry, a fact that was proven by a shower of green spells that were nimbly dodged by all but the unconscious Dung who was lucky to be lying on the ground, or he'd have been hit by the spells that zipped by at pelvis height.
Harry and Hermione danced about the flying spells with ease, and fired them back at impressive speeds and accuracy.
Unfortunately, it seemed that for every Death Eater that was transformed and removed by either Dobby or Winky, three took the missing Death Eater's place.
Five minutes into the fight, during which more Muggles had died from spells hitting them or near them than there had been casualties during the entire three years since Voldemort had returned to his body, dementors started pouring in, staying along the walls of the station to suck up the high emotions running about the battle.
Harry dove away from a reductor curse and fired an arrow of his spell at the nearest dementor, and was rewarded by an unearthly shriek. He quickly looked and saw the arrow sticking out of the dementor's chest, and light was pouring from the open wound. The chest of the creature swelled and started to develop cracks that glowed of light before exploding into a shower of dust that vanished before touching the ground.
Satisfied with his result, Harry continued to leap over a bone crushing hex, returning Hermione's creation to the Death Eater that fired it.
Not wanting to cause more damage to innocents than necessary, Harry decided to play a game the Death Eaters would not expect of a fellow wizard, and closed in on them before starting to fight them hand-to-hand, breaking wands, collar bones and legs to keep them out of action for the duration of the battle.
Some of the other DA members saw this and followed his example, with varying degrees of success. Denis Creevey took a reductor to the chest as he attempted to dropkick a Death Eater that was hovering over a few confused Muggles, and fell never to rise again. Harry had witnessed the boy's chest burst open and sprayed a good portion of the platform with his own blood. The Muggles had fled, so at least his death wasn't for nothing.
While the battle progressed, several trains exploded as a result of errant spells, and Muggle authorities started to appear, despite the Aurors that started arriving to hold Muggles out. There were just too many Muggles to hold back, and the Death Eaters were too many to spare more than a few to redirect Muggles. The results were that crazy reports were sent through radios, and soon heavily armed soldiers started appearing, and fired at the masked menace, only to have their bullets miss or malfunction in ways they weren't supposed to, as many who had their weapons turned into chickens experienced before being hit with killing curses or other equally lethal spells.
The battle raged ceaselessly for hours, and Harry hoped the world would never witness such carnage ever again, and would rather it never had.
Quite suddenly, Harry's scar flared in heat and caused agony similar to the Cruciatus curse. It was very sudden, and would have caused him to get hit with a cutting hex if Hermione hadn't jumped in front of him and taken the hit.
Harry concentrated on his Occlumency shields for a moment, and saw Hermione fall to the ground in a limp pile. Had he not known she was wearing protecting spells that worked against just those relatively harmless spells, she would have been killed by it, he would at that moment fallen over her in tears for the lost future.
'Tut tut,' chided a high pitched voice behind him. 'Such foolishness love will drive people to do.'
Harry turned to see Voldemort surrounded by nearly a dozen dementors. Anger flared within him at the sight of the man who was to blame for the deaths of thousands.
'I see your girlfriend sacrificed herself for you, how noble,' the serpent like man sneered, spitting out the word "noble". 'Just like your parents.'
'Tom,' Harry could see he had struck a nerve by calling the Dark Lord by his given name and gleefully continued, just to inflict more pain to him. Or at least he could annoy the old geezer by delivering a corny speech while Hermione gathered her wits and energy from being hit. 'You wouldn't know the first thing about why people sacrifice themselves, because the only thing you care about is yourself and your own power. Just because you have a large amount of magical ability doesn't mean you are better than others, I've known squibs who were better than you. And just because you were abused by Muggles as a child, doesn't mean you have the right to commit genocide against all without magic. I was raised in a similar manner to yours, but I didn't wish revenge upon the world that wronged me, but I pity them for being so small minded as to try and destroy what they do not understand.'
'Enough! Crucio!' bellowed Voldemort, having gotten a bit flustered as Harry spoke.
Over the past couple of years, as Harry worked on making spells, he had discovered a few interesting things about the unforgivable curses. They were all mental attacks. One convinced the victim that doing this and that was right and good so why not do it? Another convinced the mind that it was in severe pain from all and every direction and on all body parts. The third convinced the mind that it was dead, causing it to shut down. He had discovered it quite by accident, but he was amazed with the consequences this would have.
As the curse impacted against the stationary Harry, Voldemort watched in anticipation of the pained screams that he knew would come. However, the snake like man did not expect Harry to remain standing unaffected by it. Not even a single muscle twitched spasm from the curse.
'Was that supposed to hurt?' asked Harry with a very evident patronising tone. Mentally, Harry was reinforcing his Occlumency shields against the still active curse that was banging on the castle gates, so to speak. This was the positive outcome of his research; that he discovered the use of Occlumency to block out the three curses. As the curses were sufficiently draining to the caster, Harry's plan was to keep the shields erect and weaken his target before striking swiftly and hard.
Sensing he was wasting energy, Voldemort ended the curse.
'What deals have you made with the Devil to be able to resist this curse?' demanded Voldemort.
'I have made no deals, but I have developed a few spells on my own,' said Harry with a calm that seemed to even surpass Dumbledore, although inside, he was keeping track of every single movement in sight and a few outside his sight. Hermione had slowly reached within her jacket where she kept the modified gun Harry had given her. 'Have a taste,' he added and fired a round of bolts at the dementors surrounding Voldemort.
The Dark Lord was surprised to find his guards explode around him.
'We both know that there is no way that the two of us can duel properly,' sneered Voldemort after taking a moment to gather himself. 'We'd be forever locked in a Priori Incantem, so why don't you just surrender now and get it over with?'
'You have a point, Tom, but I will not be an easy kill,' as he said this, Harry ducked out of the way of a cutting hex that a Death Eater had attempted to cut him down with, thinking it would be easy when Harry was distracted. 'I have been in all sorts of training since we saw each other last, Riddle. Even the members of the Department of Mysteries would have a hard time taking me down.'
Harry felt Hermione lift the gun and shoot the attacking Death Eater with a reductor bullet.
'Let's dance, Riddle,' growled Harry as to draw attention from Hermione.
Nearly all activity in the station ceased as soon as those words were uttered, and near all concentration was focused on the two.
Voldemort was not pleased at how casually Harry was treating him, without even the slightest ounce of pain, fear or sadness, and accepted the challenge, summoning the wand of a deceased follower of his to his aid in a duel against his wand's brother.
To those not fighting, the scene was terrifyingly spectacular.
The two powerful opponents were dancing about each other's spells, curses, hexes, jinxes and dummy targets.
What surprised most was that Harry seemed to run away for a moment, before he seemed to run into a wall, disappearing.
Some thought this was a hidden barrier again until Harry emerged from behind Voldemort at full speed, ploughing the elder wizard down with speed and strength.
Voldemort was enraged and shot curse after curse at Harry, and barely managed to erect a shield in time to stop a curse from the real one, as the decoy dissolved upon being hit.
By now, harried looking teachers from Hogwarts had started to appear, many sporting some lingering effects of curses, convincing Harry that this was not the only battle that had taken place. They soon saw the severity of this battle, and erected an anti-Disapparation field over the London district to keep anyone from running away.
When Dumbledore arrived, the tides turned for the battle surrounding the Boy-Who-Lived and the Dark Lord.
Harry was starting to get annoyed with Voldemort and made a decision.
CLANK! Clink! Clank!
The simple sound of wood being dropped on hard ground halted all movement in the station.
All turned to see that Harry's hand was outstretched and his wand was on the ground.
Voldemort and the Death Eaters grinned in victory as the killing curse sailed at Harry like a green rocket.
Their victorious grins turned upside down and their jaws dropped when the green flash died down and Harry remained unscathed.
Harry's hand, still outstretched, pointed at Voldemort.
'Delecto Simpiterna Captio!' chanted Harry, focusing on Hermione and the happy times they had spent and would spend together.
A ball of golden white light formed between Harry's cupped fingers before shooting like an arrow through the air and impacted against the hastily erected shield Voldemort had cast.
For a moment, it appeared as though Harry's spell did nothing, until a few small sparks started appearing at firm spots in the air and ground surrounding Voldemort, forming a bubble with the radius of an automobile if one looked carefully enough. These sparks grew thin arms that reached for their neighbours, forming a net of pentacles and pentagons.
Even Voldemort himself stopped his actions to witness this happening around him in curiosity.
The dementors that had been, shied away from the golden white net as though it was a bonfire that suddenly had a gasoline soaked stick of dynamite thrown into it.
Harry rapidly shot down the fleeing dementors with his spells before turning his attention to Voldemort.
'This is how the wizard known as Voldemort will end,' said Harry as he approached the cage. 'This is a spell I devised to kill hatred and evil creatures. There is no escape. Any attempt, any sign of struggle will result in the removal of one spark, which will cause the cage to shrink gradually, tightening.'
Voldemort growled and pointed his wand at Harry.
No one ever found out which curse was used, as the wand was torn from Voldemort's grip and flung onto the ground outside the cage.
The incensed Dark Lord tried to reach out of the cage for the wand, but retracted his hand while howling in agony. Harry felt a slight twinge in his scar, and noticed that some of the Death Eaters briefly clutched their arms.
Nearly unnoticed, the cage shrank slightly.
'Did I forget to mention that the cage is made of the one thing you cannot stand?' asked Harry, as though he was asking about the weather. 'The one thing you cannot touch without burning, the thing that burnt Quirrell, and I do not mean my mother's protection. It is the one thing you do not understand, and my spell was designed to either destroy or convert the hateful creatures trapped within, and not even your spirit will escape this purgatory.'
Not bothering to concern himself with Voldemort any longer, Harry walked over and kneeled by Hermione, who had by now passed out from exhaustion. He could feel that she was fine, albeit a little sore across the stomach where she was hit.
The net around Voldemort tightened slowly for each second, as the megalomaniac was not about to give in so easily.
The inhuman shrieking and howling that issued, and the smell of burning flesh spread all over the station, causing those who had not fallen to retch.
As Harry was brushing away Hermione's hair from her face, a sudden surge of pain from the scar caused his world to turn black.