Chapter 26: THE WEIGHING OF THE WANDS
As per his untimely prediction, it was the middle of the night when it happened.
"So long," said Voldemort softly, raising his wand before shouting "Avada Kedavra!" pointing it at the baby Harry.
And Harry found himself with Ron, Dean, Neville and Seamus staring at him. Ron was standing at his side, having opened the curtains and was looking down at him very uneasily. Harry himself was sitting up, several beads of sweat lining his forehead. Dean, Neville and Seamus didn't say anything and, judging by the expression on Ron's face, Harry had screamed particularly loud...
But Harry had the distinct feeling they thought he had woken up from some other kind of dream... Perhaps they were a little more worried than they should be? Afterall, it had happened before that Harry had been woken up from a dream involving Voldemort himself...
"Harry?" Ron breathed very anxiously, his hand still on the drawn curtains and his mouth hanging open.
Harry let himself fall heavily onto his pillow; there was just no escaping it.
"It wasn't Voldemort," he began, before plunging into the entire dream, from his dad trying to fight off Voldemort to the flash of green light that repeatedly woke him up.
When he finished, Ron was sitting on his four-poster again.
"I've been having it since the end of last year when I got back to the Dursleys' house," Harry told them all, "and... it's not pleasant."
"I see," said Ron weakly. "I-is there anything anyone can do? I mean --"
"What's anyone going to do, Ron," said Harry gloomily, "give me a hanky and tell me to cry my heart out over my dead parents?"
Ron was gaping at him, lost for words -- but it wasn't for lack of trying. He did open his mouth several times, emitting nothing but a few strangled words, and then he closed it. Ron watched helplessly as Harry reached over for the Order of Merlin plaque calling out to him and grabbed it. It did very little, but what it did do gave him the strength to pull the covers back over himself and say, "Just don't tell anyone, okay? The last thing I need is for Malfoy or Dudley to get word of this."
"Okay."
"All right."
"No problem."
"Sure."
But fifteen minutes later, when Ron, Neville, Dean and Seamus were all sleeping, Harry found that he couldn't. Something was still nagging, biting and tearing at him and it was only when he rolled over, staring unblinkingly at the plaque with his name on it did the reason come to him.
It felt shameful to admit it to himself but he wanted something like a -- someone like a mother but couldn't bring himself to tell Mrs. Weasley. The last time she had found out something similar to this, she was having kittens about him. Someone he could confide in, someone that wouldn't make him feel like an idiot if he had to tell something very personal to and most importantly, someone that understood him. The answer, of course, came to Harry immediately.
"Cho," he whispered to himself, crawling out of bed, snatching up that pen, parchment, his cloak and putting his shoes on.
The Owlery situation atop the West Tower was cold and drafty, as none of the windows had glass in them, and the floor was littered with owl droppings. I can't stand it, he thought to himself, I have to tell her. She already knew but he wanted to tell her anyway and perhaps he would tell her about what happened with him entering his name in the Goblet of Fire, as well... Ron and Hermione know about that but there were some things they just didn't understand. Harry didn't exactly want Cho's pity but something in him said that wouldn't be the kind of letter he would get back and he liked to be able to think that.
As far as getting to the Owlery without getting caught out of bed, for this task he looked at the elaborate staff resembling a lion that was lying across his trunk at the foot of his bed. He grabbed it and immediately Raides sprang to life, her tail wagging and the crystal vanishing from the mouth.
"Good evening," she said brightly, then, watching Harry frown, she stopped smiling. And then she suddenly look horrified and said, "Oh, not again --"
"Yes," Harry whispered, putting Raides back down, stuffing the pen and parchment in the pockets of his cloak and picking her up again. "Look, I need to get to the Owlery, and seeing as how I can't Disapparate anymore..."
"And you don't have your dad's cloak anymore," said Raides, now also frowning. "But you can still make yourself invisible. 'Occare' if I remember correctly."
"How can you rememeber spells and nothing about your past?" said Harry. "I don't get it."
"Probably the same way you were able to use all those spells when you had the Mark of Ancients and had no idea how you did it," said Raides, shaking her tail in what looked like a strange shrug.
"Anyway," said Harry, trying to forget about it. "Occare!" he hissed under his breath and at that same instant, he could no longer see his hand in front of his face as he turned it or the staff in his other hand. "So this is how Dumbledore spied on me when I was looking at the Mirror of Erised. I didn't ever see him because he was invisible and one night, he turned up and scared me half to death. Well, so much for needing my dad's cloak," Harry commented grimly. "Least now I don't have to worry about it slipping off of me but don't get me wrong, I still miss it," he added quickly, hearing Raides start to laugh. "It was my dad's after all, and I don't exactly have a lot to remember him by."
Raides stopped laughing rather quickly. As beastly an appearance she had, she wasn't without lack of emotions for -- for some things...
It was admittedly much easier to walk around the castle unseen without having to hold a cloak on your head and it was great to have use of his hands even if all they did was dangle limp at his sides. When he reached his destination, shivering because of how drafty it was, he pulled his cloak closer to himself, though it didn't help much, and the pen was cutting into his side. All over the floor were the skeletons of rats and voles and some live ones that were enjoying their last days before being eaten.
Just about all of the owls were sleeping, though occasionally some heads swiveled on their bodies to hear Harry's footsteps, him still being invisible, as he moved around the stone, circular room to find Hedwig. He found her perched comfortably between a barn owl and Ron's owl, Pig. They hadn't become friends, had they? Harry thought incredulously.
"Okay now how do I make myself visible?" he asked Raides.
"'Appare' should do it."
"Appare!" and that same instant, Hedwig fell off her perch, startled at Harry's sudden appearance.
She hooted angrily and fluttered back onto where she had been sitting.
"I just need you to deliver a letter to Cho for me, all right?" Harry asked her, looking hopeful.
She showed him her tail for a brief moment before finally giving in to Harry's continued pleas ("Please, Hedwig?") and fluttered onto his knee as he sat down against the wall in a relatively dropping-free area. Dear Cho, he wrote then paused but after a good minute, it was like the inside of him was telling him what to write and his hand just moved accordingly.
I did something really stupid yesterday morning. Naturally, all along everyone's been asking me if I put my name in the Goblet of Fire, even some of the professors, and you can imagine how irritating that is. I was in such a bad mood all yesterday from my first class to my last one. And then in the entrance hall while waiting to go eat (since we got out of class early), Ron, Hermione and I found Malfoy. He cracked a joke about both of them and when he got to me, well let's just say I lost it and I put my name in the goblet just to get back at him.
Don't ask, I can't answer it myself. All the Slytherins did and I was just so angry. You don't have to guess that my name got called out of it, Dumbledore was smiling when he read it. Then I just switched into this horrified trance and told off Ron and Hermione just last night. To make matters worse, I woke up from that stupid dream in the middle of the night and now Ron, Dean, Neville and Seamus know. I'm gonna tell Hermione later if Ron doesn't do it first.
For good measure, Harry added the bit about Karkaroff being afraid of Madam Maxime, Professor Delacour's sister being in the tournament, how he thinks he's going to really hate Sebastian Leon and how Raides is scaring Peeves to death lately. He didn't want to sound to soppy, like he really missed her. Although, he figured he shouldn't, he hadn't held himself back the last time he had seen Cho, having had wrapped his arms around her. Then one more thing came to him to put down.
I really like writing to you. It's the only thing besides Ron and Hermione that's keeping my head on straight. This year is going to be terrible. Cheers.
His hand shook slightly and there was a weak smile on his face as he finished it with Love, Harry. Giving it the once-over, Harry was delighted with it.
"You've been good to me lately, Hedwig," he said to her, "even though I haven't been exactly... appreciative. I'll give you some bacon when you get back? And I'll snatch some for the next seven days."
She hooted once more, nipping his hand affectionately and, the letter safely attached to her leg, she soared out of an open window. Harry watched her go, a great weight settling in his stomach as he was brought back to the unpleasantness that was the reality of the Triwizard Tournament ahead of him. On his way back to Gryffindor Tower, Harry realized that he hadn't ever told Sirius about the dream. He figured he would conveniently forget to mention this if Ron or Hermione asked him about it and he thought that they might think that telling Cho about it was enough. Truth be told, so did Harry.
Hermione wasn't speaking to Harry the following morning at breakfast and Ron was avoiding his eyes. Harry silently felt he deserved the silent treatment that Hermione was giving him but didn't expect Ron to do the same. Harry did wake up feeling perfectly happy despite the huge lump in his stomach that he knew would steadily grow bigger as November the twenty-eighth approached. Ginny must have spotted all of this because she stopped talking to Neville and instead asked her brother something.
"Ron, is there a reason you haven't said a single word to Harry all morning?"
For the first time all morning, Ron looked at Harry but he seemed to forget he was in a room full of people and giving looks of extreme anxiousness didn't smooth over too well in this kind of situation.
"Harry?" said Ginny curiously. "Ron? I-is there something --?"
Hermione then finally seemed to notice something was amiss.
"Yes, Ron," she said bossily, not looking at neither him nor Harry but at her toast, "is there something?"
Harry, who'd been trying to look innocent and had been paying attention to his eggs, let his shoulders drop, his fork, while still clutched in his hand, fall to his plate and exhaled heavily. Ron finally spoke.
"You're going to tell her?" he whispered in Harry's ear.
Ginny was looking curiously between the two of them.
"Of course I'm going to tell her," Harry said aloud.
"Tell who what?" said Hermione and Ginny together.
Harry surprised himself by smiling but Ron continued to look very anxious.
"Fine then, I'll tell both of you," said Harry. "But not here, if the common room is quiet or somewhere else if it's not --"
"I knew it!" said Hermione at once, a look of triumph over her face. "I knew --"
"Oh shut up... or I won't tell you," said Harry.
Hermione looked particularly angry for a few seconds but gave up and went back to her toast. When the four of them finished eating, they all followed Harry back to the Gryffindor common room, Ron looking very anxious indeed, partially because he was the only one who knew what was coming. Now, though, Harry thought he'd been overplaying the dream. It wasn't really that bad, not any worse than having a normal nightmare... was it?
Lots of people's parents die when their kids are young, Harry thought, why should my situation be any different? Because you've been living with the Dursleys, sparked a voice in the back of his head, and someone's wanted you dead since the second you were born.
Hermione and Ginny kept trying to ask him questions but he was only half listening, more interested in the conversation he was having with himself. He really wanted to know if he was making a bigger deal out of it than he should be. It wasn't that big, was it? But Ron sure looked frightened when Harry had finished and Cho had been tearing when he told her about it. But then Harry realized that Cho cared a great deal about him and small things, well... And Ron had heard him screaming and Harry hadn't heard it himself. Well, he supposed he'd screamed, he never actually heard himself do it. The flash of green light, the cold, pitiless red eyes telling him he was going to die... that's what woke him up, not the sound of his own voice.
"Priscus Veneficus," said Ron, snapping Harry back to reality.
The common room was empty and they didn't have to resort going back up to Harry's and Ron's dormitory. Harry stood up during the explanation, pacing back and forth nervously despite his assessment that the dream wasn't all too bad. Even so, Hermione and Ginny looked horrorstruck. Ron made sure to add the bit about Harry screaming so loud that his ears hurt.
"I wonder if there's any reason I have it now when I've never had it before?" Harry added after there had been silence for a good few minutes; Ginny had been staring at Harry while he continued to pace and eventually sat down while Hermione stared at the crackling fire across from her.
"It's not that big a deal is it?" Harry said dismissively, noting their continued horrified expressions -- even Ron's, who had put his cloak down as though hearing it for the first time.
"And you've had it several times before?" said Hermione, running her fingers through her bushy brown hair to calm herself down. Harry nodded. "Well, that's it!" she shouted.
"What's it?" said Harry blankly.
"You idiot, come on. Who wants to keep reliving their parents death over and over again!"
Now that she said it, Harry felt like Voldemort had used a curse, not to just pull blood from him but to pull his very heart out of his chest. Harry had once used this to pull the Mark of Ancients out of Voldemort on accident, of course, and having no idea he did it or how until someone later told him -- because he had done it in his sleep. That first summer he had the Mark of Ancients was a strange time to say the least and very frightening. He wished to never have the manic dreams that the permanent Imperius Voldemort had attempted on Harry brought about ever again. A sick little voice in the back his brain told him that if, by some miracle, or, more properly, by some disasterous consequence, the Mark of Ancients was back, the dreams would return. But it couldn't be back. Could it?
And then quite suddenly his thoughts fell on something that brought those dreams back.
"The Book of Memories," he muttered.
"The what?" said Ginny.
"The Book of Memories," said Harry loudly. "Remember? The thing that was used to bring me back when my soul -- and the book in which Raides was imprisoned?"
"W-what about it?" said Ron.
"I told you this, didn't I? Whenever I touched it, it brought back those weird flashes I had that first summer with the mark except they weren't bad ones." Harry paused for a moment, and then said, "It's just strange, isn't it?"
"Strange," Ron muttered under his breath to himself.
"I want to find that book," said Harry firmly. "I want to know why it did that to me and if it's the reason I have this stupid dream constantly. I'm probably going to have it again tonight or tomorrow," he said angrily.
Hermione seemed to be thinking along the same lines as Harry when she said, "The Mark of Ancients is not back, Harry, if that's what you're thinking. It was thoroughly removed from you. Your skin glittered gold and then glowed white and it, like, leaked off of your body and dissolved in the air just above you. And you can't make your skin do anything of the sort now, can you?"
"Nope," said Harry, feeling a little better.
"Just keep your head on," said Ron. "Nothing's going on this year except for a few strange mood swings. It's all nerves," Ron suggested and Harry wanted to agree, "about the Triwizard Tournament."
"Right," said Harry, looking between Ron and Hermione and nodding.
"Now come on, we haven't been to see Hagrid for ages," said Hermione.
"Want to come, Ginny?" said Ron, turning to her and picking up his cloak. "You haven't really spoken to him a lot..."
Nothing fascinating did happen until one fateful day in the Great Hall when a loud crying burst out somewhere in the middle of the Ravenclaw table. A boy and a girl, Harry knew as first years, were both seen dashing out at top speed, the girl's hand to her mouth and the boy holding her to him. Harry was reminded of the few months two years ago when he thought he had a sister. The memory brought nothing but hate.
"What happened to them?" said Hermione curiously.
And then, as a wave of murmurs broke out over the Great Hall, the name Christabell Florence and Addie Jungalavingi crossed his ears. Harry vaguely remembered there being two Florences but just then, Parvati Patil said that she just fainted and a second later, Harry saw someone carrying her out of the Hall.
Hermione clasped a hand to her mouth as what happened reached their ears: the Dark Mark and Macnair, a Death Eater. There was only one thing that Harry could think of, the Florence's parents had been killed and the Dark Mark casted over their house. Harry felt a hot surge of hatred toward Macnair. He had tried to kill one of Hagrid's pets, a hippogriff by the name of Buckbeak. Working for the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Magical Creatures at the Ministry of Magic, Macnair was the executioner. Mr. Malfoy, Harry knew, had them all in his pocket and his son having had been bitten by Buckbeak, was sure to have the hippogriff killed. But Hermione had pulled what was a miracle out of their pocket -- or rather, the front of her robes. Using Hermione's Time Turner, a magical device capable of sending the wearer back in time, which she was using for classes that year, rescued Buckbeak.
Harry didn't like Macnair then and after finding out he'd been a Death Eater, didn't like him any more now.
"How do they know it was him?" said Ron, jolting Harry back to his senses. "Was he caught?"
"Yes," said Hermione, as a screech owl brought her a copy of the Daily Prophet and she looked at the front page. "Here, it's short, listen."
THE DARK MARK CASTED OVER A HUMBLE ABODE
The Florences, a Muggle family very much in touch with their wizard and witch children, were discovered with the Dark Mark over their house yesterday morning, reports Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent.
"Rita..." Hermione whispered angrily.
The Florences enjoy two of their children attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy while their son attends the graduate program of Laurence Patrick Hayden's school of Paladism in the United States.
When Hermione finished, she looked up at Harry, who's eye was twitching.
"I'm going to kill him," he said softly, "I am --"
"Are you mad?" Ron burst out. "Kill Voldemort?"
Harry didn't say anything, he just sat there, staring at what had to be another friend of the Florences, weeping in her seat at the Hufflepuff table. Somewhere in the back of all the mess, Harry could distinctly see Malfoy laughing with Crabbe and Goyle. Dudley, Harry was surprised to see, had moved a few seats away from them.
The next week during one Potions class in which Professor Figg was reminding the class to bring gas masks for when they worked with that horribly smelling potion ingredient, Harry was longing to get away. He had remembered that Charm to make the air fresh and didn't need reminding of that smell. Raides, having gotten word from hermione, wished not to attend but Harry forced her to. It was Professor McGonagall who poked her head inside to save him.
"Arabella, Potter has to have his wand checked for the tournament," she said.
"Very well," Professor Figg replied. "Harry, we will be working with it at a date to be announced. Good luck!" and she bid him farewell.
"You are, obviously, not allowed to use your staff in any of the tasks," said Professor McGonagall, though Harry thought she looked like she wished he could, as they walked along the corridors, Raides walking silently behind Harry. "That horrible Skeeter woman is here" -- and Harry would make it a point to tell Hermione -- "and she's going to want pictures. She is ordered by Fudge himself to keep quiet about anything nasty but you know her."
"Oh, I do," said Harry, "and I think the end of her is going to come," he muttered with a smile under his breath, which made Professor McGonagall look curiously at him.
Rita Skeeter was an unregistered Animagus and had been using this to ferret around Hogwarts during the last Triwizard Tournament when she had been explicitly banned from the grounds. The Slytherins had been giving her interviews and it was only when Hermione discovered her little secret did she stop... at least, until recently...
"Here you go, Potter," said Professor McGonagall when they reached the familiar classroom, a fairly small one with all but three desks pushed against the walls. She left him there and walked off.
Up at the back wall were the three desks, placed end to end-in-front of the others, leaving the rest of the classroom as one, wide open space. Sitting in the middle desk was a familiar, wizened old wizard by the name of Mr. Ollivander, the one who had sold Harry his wand. The tops of the three desks were covered with velvet and there were two chairs on either side of Mr. Ollivander. Bagman was on one side with Percy on the other. Rita Skeeter was on the far end and the fifth chair was empty. Percy was looking strained and brooding, like he had better things to be going on with than to be checking out silly wands for defects.
When Raides walked in, everyone except Percy gave a startled gasp.
"Hello," said Raides brightly before curling up on a comfortable piece of floor.
Rita Skeeter was dressed in magenta robes, her black fingernails matching the black hat she was wearing and looking funny next to her crocodile-skin handbag. Standing next to her was her photographer, a paunchy man holding a large black camera.
Sebastian and Adrianne were already there, each not talking to the other, Sebastian leaning against the wall, straight-backed and proud. Meanwhile Adrianne had immediately bounded forward to Harry the moment her shock over Raides was over.
"Ah!" said Bagman brightly before she got to say a word. "Our third champion! Good, good. Now, nothing to worry about, just the Weighing of the Wands, to check that your wands are in perfect working order. You'll be making great use of them throughout the tournament and they're you're most valuable tool so you'll want to be sure they're in top notch working order."
Dumbledore strode in with Madam Maxime and a nervous Karkaroff as he was finishing up and said, "May I introduce Mr. Ollivander, our wand expert, who will be checking to make sure your wands are fit for the tournament."
Mr. Ollivander was a frail, old wizard. Harry had seen him last year when he had spoken to him about Raides when everyone thought her to be just a myth.
"Mademoiselle Delacour, if you please?" said Mr. Ollivander.
Adrianne left Harry's side as he went to stand by Raides. She handed him her wand.
"Ahh," he said. "Beechwood... flexible... nine and half inches... somewhat springy and containing... ah yes, the same as Professor Delacour's own wand -- a hair from the head of a veela. Your grandmother's too, I presume?"
Adrianne nodded. Mr. Ollivander then ran his fingers up and down the wand, apparently checking for inconsistencies or cracks.
"Fragrodorus!" he shouted and a pink cloud erupted from the tip of Adrianne's wand, meeting Harry's nose and smelling very nice. "Perfect working order, if I do say so. Mr. Leon, you next."
Sebastian smiled deeply, pushed his shoulders back, now looking more cocky than ever as Adrianne went to sit at the end near the back of the room. He handed Mr. Ollivander his wand and he immediately gave a shudder.
"A rather... well, it should still work," he said uneasily, his fingers caressing the tip for a good few seconds before he twirled in his fingers. "Very stiff -- and being made of rock elm wood, it's hardly surprising -- and barely moveable at that. Containing... dragon heart string, is it?"
Sebastian nodded proudly.
Mr. Ollivander checked his wand as he had done with Adrianne's for cracks in the wood muttering something about it being dumb since rock elm never cracks or chips. "Gregorovitch, I must have a word with him," he said. He then muttered under his breath, before waving it and shouting, "Remedium Impluo!" A light rain appeared at the tip of Sebastian's wand, which Mr. Ollivander held out over the front of the velvet and showered the stone floor.
"Last but not least, Mr. Potter."
Harry stepped forward, handing Mr. Ollivander his own wand as Sebastian joined a reluctant Adrianne at the seats.
"Yes, yes, yes... and I can still remember that day... and the phoenix from which I pulled a tail feather out of. Oh he was not happy, Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes, not at all --"
"Harry's wand contains a feather from Dumbledore's phoenix?" burst out Percy before he probably knew what he was saying. Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling and he nodded to Percy.
"This wand's been through a lot," Mr. Ollivander went on and on, "yes indeed. Made of holly, eleven inches long. Quite springy, very powerful..." He examined it for a while longer before shouting, "Alohomora!" pointing it at the closed door. Absolutely nothing happened.
Harry, Dumbledore and Mr. Ollivander were all staring at the wand. He tried again and this time a cloudy puff erupted from the wand but still, the door did not open like it was supposed to. Mr. Ollivander ran his fingers along the length of the wand once more, then shouted a little more loudly.
Harry's wand gave an almighty lurch, shaking Mr. Ollivander's hand violently. Without thinking, Harry pointed a finger at Dumbledore who was standing right in his wand's path and shouted, "Accio!" A burst of green light had erupted from the wand tip, crashing into the wall where Dumbledore was standing. He would have been killed had Harry not used a Summoning Charm to pull him out of the way. He crashed into Harry, who fell over. Dumbledore helped to him to his feet...
No one knew who to stare at except Dumbledore: Harry or the wand. Dumbledore himself was staring at Harry, who had just saved his life. Mr. Ollivander was sputtering incoherently and Harry had a horrible feeling Rita Skeeter would be conjuring up something nasty about this little episode with her Quick-Quotes Quill.
"How -- what --?" Bagman tried to say, much to the sentiments of everyone else.
No one said a word or even seemed to be breathing for a few minutes. Mr. Ollivander dropped the wand after a few seconds.
Harry picked up his wand back and was asked to try to open the door with it, which worked in one try for him, as did the Fragrance Charm and the Healing Rain Charm. Mr. Ollivander, shaken, though clearly not as much as Dumbledore, who was still staring at Harry, who in turn was red as a brick, declared Harry's wand fully functional. Harry did recall how he had accidently broken his wand and repaired it with Raides. He shared this information with everyone, keen on hearing an explanation as to why his wand just casted the Killing Curse.
"Broke it, you say?" said Mr. Ollivander. "Then fixed it with the staff?"
"Yes. Cracked it in half. But it's been working perfectly for me," Harry informed them, looking around, just as confused as everyone else.
"Only staves are known to exhibit this behavior," said Mr. Ollivander, looking at Raides, who was grinning up at him as he said this.
"It was just a Repair Charm," said Raides.
Dumbledore finally seemed to be able to speak. "That would not have changed the nature of Harry's wand," he said. "I have seen this happen several times... but each time the reason had been different."
The mystery of Harry's wand trying to kill Dumbledore spread around the school like wildfire and Harry now had a new rumor to squash: that he wanted Dumbledore dead. Rita Skeeter reluctantly skipped photographs like she had intended on Dumbledore's orders. Knowledge that Raides didn't like her wasn't helping the matter but it was very fortunate for everyone else.
Dumbledore and Harry reached a silent agreement to not discuss the matter, Harry being too embarassed at having saved his life and Dumbledore...
November the twenty-eighth drew nearer and Harry's nerves mounted higher and higher, like only the approach of the game deciding who would win the inter-House Quidditch Cup could do. The only thing he wished he knew, aside from when Cho would reply to him, was what the first task was going to be. He contented himself with knowledge that he knew many, many charms and hexes and even if he was to face a dragon, he might even have a chance at knocking it out with the ice dragon and inferno spells. Hermione seemed to think Harry had lost his mind for suggesting he could do this but she changed her mind after Harry tried his hand at tackling a lightning dragon of his own conjuring.
"Draconus fulguralia!" Harry bellowed, Raides in hand.
Like had once had happened before, Harry's hand felt like it had been shocked and Raides fell out of it, but not before a bolt of lightning cracked from the crystal, sending a one hundred foot high dragon into the air. Several nearby students, including Harry, Ron and Hermione, screamed and some ran.
Harry wand in hand and shaking slightly, bellowed, "Infernus grandis inflamora!" when the dragon's loud roars filled his ears.
The ground beneath the dragon rumbled and a pit of fire opened up as a burst of fire shot forth from his wand to the dragon, making it disappear in a fury of lightning sparks. Harry grinned at the stunned faces of Ron and Hermione.
"You do remember that time I used Inferno without a wand? Just a shame I can't use Clades Ultimus or Light of Faith without the staff," said Harry. "Those two spells alone would take care of anything."
"Yes, and take care of you if you use Clades Ultimus improperly," Ron reminded him darkly.
Harry recalled again when a Clades Ultimus he had done under influence of the Imperius had gone awry and exploded Colin Creevey. Both spells were ancient magic, Clades Ultimus being a particularly potent spell that killed anyone in a large region if they came in contact with a cloudly, blue haze. If improperly focused, it could kill just about anyone, including the caster, in a shower of blood and gore. Light of Faith, Harry learned, only worked against Dark wizards... and then he recalled how it worked on one Thantanos Brev during a dueling tournament at Hogwarts whose real name was Thantanos Quirrell...
As per his untimely prediction, it was the middle of the night when it happened.
"So long," said Voldemort softly, raising his wand before shouting "Avada Kedavra!" pointing it at the baby Harry.
And Harry found himself with Ron, Dean, Neville and Seamus staring at him. Ron was standing at his side, having opened the curtains and was looking down at him very uneasily. Harry himself was sitting up, several beads of sweat lining his forehead. Dean, Neville and Seamus didn't say anything and, judging by the expression on Ron's face, Harry had screamed particularly loud...
But Harry had the distinct feeling they thought he had woken up from some other kind of dream... Perhaps they were a little more worried than they should be? Afterall, it had happened before that Harry had been woken up from a dream involving Voldemort himself...
"Harry?" Ron breathed very anxiously, his hand still on the drawn curtains and his mouth hanging open.
Harry let himself fall heavily onto his pillow; there was just no escaping it.
"It wasn't Voldemort," he began, before plunging into the entire dream, from his dad trying to fight off Voldemort to the flash of green light that repeatedly woke him up.
When he finished, Ron was sitting on his four-poster again.
"I've been having it since the end of last year when I got back to the Dursleys' house," Harry told them all, "and... it's not pleasant."
"I see," said Ron weakly. "I-is there anything anyone can do? I mean --"
"What's anyone going to do, Ron," said Harry gloomily, "give me a hanky and tell me to cry my heart out over my dead parents?"
Ron was gaping at him, lost for words -- but it wasn't for lack of trying. He did open his mouth several times, emitting nothing but a few strangled words, and then he closed it. Ron watched helplessly as Harry reached over for the Order of Merlin plaque calling out to him and grabbed it. It did very little, but what it did do gave him the strength to pull the covers back over himself and say, "Just don't tell anyone, okay? The last thing I need is for Malfoy or Dudley to get word of this."
"Okay."
"All right."
"No problem."
"Sure."
But fifteen minutes later, when Ron, Neville, Dean and Seamus were all sleeping, Harry found that he couldn't. Something was still nagging, biting and tearing at him and it was only when he rolled over, staring unblinkingly at the plaque with his name on it did the reason come to him.
It felt shameful to admit it to himself but he wanted something like a -- someone like a mother but couldn't bring himself to tell Mrs. Weasley. The last time she had found out something similar to this, she was having kittens about him. Someone he could confide in, someone that wouldn't make him feel like an idiot if he had to tell something very personal to and most importantly, someone that understood him. The answer, of course, came to Harry immediately.
"Cho," he whispered to himself, crawling out of bed, snatching up that pen, parchment, his cloak and putting his shoes on.
The Owlery situation atop the West Tower was cold and drafty, as none of the windows had glass in them, and the floor was littered with owl droppings. I can't stand it, he thought to himself, I have to tell her. She already knew but he wanted to tell her anyway and perhaps he would tell her about what happened with him entering his name in the Goblet of Fire, as well... Ron and Hermione know about that but there were some things they just didn't understand. Harry didn't exactly want Cho's pity but something in him said that wouldn't be the kind of letter he would get back and he liked to be able to think that.
As far as getting to the Owlery without getting caught out of bed, for this task he looked at the elaborate staff resembling a lion that was lying across his trunk at the foot of his bed. He grabbed it and immediately Raides sprang to life, her tail wagging and the crystal vanishing from the mouth.
"Good evening," she said brightly, then, watching Harry frown, she stopped smiling. And then she suddenly look horrified and said, "Oh, not again --"
"Yes," Harry whispered, putting Raides back down, stuffing the pen and parchment in the pockets of his cloak and picking her up again. "Look, I need to get to the Owlery, and seeing as how I can't Disapparate anymore..."
"And you don't have your dad's cloak anymore," said Raides, now also frowning. "But you can still make yourself invisible. 'Occare' if I remember correctly."
"How can you rememeber spells and nothing about your past?" said Harry. "I don't get it."
"Probably the same way you were able to use all those spells when you had the Mark of Ancients and had no idea how you did it," said Raides, shaking her tail in what looked like a strange shrug.
"Anyway," said Harry, trying to forget about it. "Occare!" he hissed under his breath and at that same instant, he could no longer see his hand in front of his face as he turned it or the staff in his other hand. "So this is how Dumbledore spied on me when I was looking at the Mirror of Erised. I didn't ever see him because he was invisible and one night, he turned up and scared me half to death. Well, so much for needing my dad's cloak," Harry commented grimly. "Least now I don't have to worry about it slipping off of me but don't get me wrong, I still miss it," he added quickly, hearing Raides start to laugh. "It was my dad's after all, and I don't exactly have a lot to remember him by."
Raides stopped laughing rather quickly. As beastly an appearance she had, she wasn't without lack of emotions for -- for some things...
It was admittedly much easier to walk around the castle unseen without having to hold a cloak on your head and it was great to have use of his hands even if all they did was dangle limp at his sides. When he reached his destination, shivering because of how drafty it was, he pulled his cloak closer to himself, though it didn't help much, and the pen was cutting into his side. All over the floor were the skeletons of rats and voles and some live ones that were enjoying their last days before being eaten.
Just about all of the owls were sleeping, though occasionally some heads swiveled on their bodies to hear Harry's footsteps, him still being invisible, as he moved around the stone, circular room to find Hedwig. He found her perched comfortably between a barn owl and Ron's owl, Pig. They hadn't become friends, had they? Harry thought incredulously.
"Okay now how do I make myself visible?" he asked Raides.
"'Appare' should do it."
"Appare!" and that same instant, Hedwig fell off her perch, startled at Harry's sudden appearance.
She hooted angrily and fluttered back onto where she had been sitting.
"I just need you to deliver a letter to Cho for me, all right?" Harry asked her, looking hopeful.
She showed him her tail for a brief moment before finally giving in to Harry's continued pleas ("Please, Hedwig?") and fluttered onto his knee as he sat down against the wall in a relatively dropping-free area. Dear Cho, he wrote then paused but after a good minute, it was like the inside of him was telling him what to write and his hand just moved accordingly.
I did something really stupid yesterday morning. Naturally, all along everyone's been asking me if I put my name in the Goblet of Fire, even some of the professors, and you can imagine how irritating that is. I was in such a bad mood all yesterday from my first class to my last one. And then in the entrance hall while waiting to go eat (since we got out of class early), Ron, Hermione and I found Malfoy. He cracked a joke about both of them and when he got to me, well let's just say I lost it and I put my name in the goblet just to get back at him.
Don't ask, I can't answer it myself. All the Slytherins did and I was just so angry. You don't have to guess that my name got called out of it, Dumbledore was smiling when he read it. Then I just switched into this horrified trance and told off Ron and Hermione just last night. To make matters worse, I woke up from that stupid dream in the middle of the night and now Ron, Dean, Neville and Seamus know. I'm gonna tell Hermione later if Ron doesn't do it first.
For good measure, Harry added the bit about Karkaroff being afraid of Madam Maxime, Professor Delacour's sister being in the tournament, how he thinks he's going to really hate Sebastian Leon and how Raides is scaring Peeves to death lately. He didn't want to sound to soppy, like he really missed her. Although, he figured he shouldn't, he hadn't held himself back the last time he had seen Cho, having had wrapped his arms around her. Then one more thing came to him to put down.
I really like writing to you. It's the only thing besides Ron and Hermione that's keeping my head on straight. This year is going to be terrible. Cheers.
His hand shook slightly and there was a weak smile on his face as he finished it with Love, Harry. Giving it the once-over, Harry was delighted with it.
"You've been good to me lately, Hedwig," he said to her, "even though I haven't been exactly... appreciative. I'll give you some bacon when you get back? And I'll snatch some for the next seven days."
She hooted once more, nipping his hand affectionately and, the letter safely attached to her leg, she soared out of an open window. Harry watched her go, a great weight settling in his stomach as he was brought back to the unpleasantness that was the reality of the Triwizard Tournament ahead of him. On his way back to Gryffindor Tower, Harry realized that he hadn't ever told Sirius about the dream. He figured he would conveniently forget to mention this if Ron or Hermione asked him about it and he thought that they might think that telling Cho about it was enough. Truth be told, so did Harry.
Hermione wasn't speaking to Harry the following morning at breakfast and Ron was avoiding his eyes. Harry silently felt he deserved the silent treatment that Hermione was giving him but didn't expect Ron to do the same. Harry did wake up feeling perfectly happy despite the huge lump in his stomach that he knew would steadily grow bigger as November the twenty-eighth approached. Ginny must have spotted all of this because she stopped talking to Neville and instead asked her brother something.
"Ron, is there a reason you haven't said a single word to Harry all morning?"
For the first time all morning, Ron looked at Harry but he seemed to forget he was in a room full of people and giving looks of extreme anxiousness didn't smooth over too well in this kind of situation.
"Harry?" said Ginny curiously. "Ron? I-is there something --?"
Hermione then finally seemed to notice something was amiss.
"Yes, Ron," she said bossily, not looking at neither him nor Harry but at her toast, "is there something?"
Harry, who'd been trying to look innocent and had been paying attention to his eggs, let his shoulders drop, his fork, while still clutched in his hand, fall to his plate and exhaled heavily. Ron finally spoke.
"You're going to tell her?" he whispered in Harry's ear.
Ginny was looking curiously between the two of them.
"Of course I'm going to tell her," Harry said aloud.
"Tell who what?" said Hermione and Ginny together.
Harry surprised himself by smiling but Ron continued to look very anxious.
"Fine then, I'll tell both of you," said Harry. "But not here, if the common room is quiet or somewhere else if it's not --"
"I knew it!" said Hermione at once, a look of triumph over her face. "I knew --"
"Oh shut up... or I won't tell you," said Harry.
Hermione looked particularly angry for a few seconds but gave up and went back to her toast. When the four of them finished eating, they all followed Harry back to the Gryffindor common room, Ron looking very anxious indeed, partially because he was the only one who knew what was coming. Now, though, Harry thought he'd been overplaying the dream. It wasn't really that bad, not any worse than having a normal nightmare... was it?
Lots of people's parents die when their kids are young, Harry thought, why should my situation be any different? Because you've been living with the Dursleys, sparked a voice in the back of his head, and someone's wanted you dead since the second you were born.
Hermione and Ginny kept trying to ask him questions but he was only half listening, more interested in the conversation he was having with himself. He really wanted to know if he was making a bigger deal out of it than he should be. It wasn't that big, was it? But Ron sure looked frightened when Harry had finished and Cho had been tearing when he told her about it. But then Harry realized that Cho cared a great deal about him and small things, well... And Ron had heard him screaming and Harry hadn't heard it himself. Well, he supposed he'd screamed, he never actually heard himself do it. The flash of green light, the cold, pitiless red eyes telling him he was going to die... that's what woke him up, not the sound of his own voice.
"Priscus Veneficus," said Ron, snapping Harry back to reality.
The common room was empty and they didn't have to resort going back up to Harry's and Ron's dormitory. Harry stood up during the explanation, pacing back and forth nervously despite his assessment that the dream wasn't all too bad. Even so, Hermione and Ginny looked horrorstruck. Ron made sure to add the bit about Harry screaming so loud that his ears hurt.
"I wonder if there's any reason I have it now when I've never had it before?" Harry added after there had been silence for a good few minutes; Ginny had been staring at Harry while he continued to pace and eventually sat down while Hermione stared at the crackling fire across from her.
"It's not that big a deal is it?" Harry said dismissively, noting their continued horrified expressions -- even Ron's, who had put his cloak down as though hearing it for the first time.
"And you've had it several times before?" said Hermione, running her fingers through her bushy brown hair to calm herself down. Harry nodded. "Well, that's it!" she shouted.
"What's it?" said Harry blankly.
"You idiot, come on. Who wants to keep reliving their parents death over and over again!"
Now that she said it, Harry felt like Voldemort had used a curse, not to just pull blood from him but to pull his very heart out of his chest. Harry had once used this to pull the Mark of Ancients out of Voldemort on accident, of course, and having no idea he did it or how until someone later told him -- because he had done it in his sleep. That first summer he had the Mark of Ancients was a strange time to say the least and very frightening. He wished to never have the manic dreams that the permanent Imperius Voldemort had attempted on Harry brought about ever again. A sick little voice in the back his brain told him that if, by some miracle, or, more properly, by some disasterous consequence, the Mark of Ancients was back, the dreams would return. But it couldn't be back. Could it?
And then quite suddenly his thoughts fell on something that brought those dreams back.
"The Book of Memories," he muttered.
"The what?" said Ginny.
"The Book of Memories," said Harry loudly. "Remember? The thing that was used to bring me back when my soul -- and the book in which Raides was imprisoned?"
"W-what about it?" said Ron.
"I told you this, didn't I? Whenever I touched it, it brought back those weird flashes I had that first summer with the mark except they weren't bad ones." Harry paused for a moment, and then said, "It's just strange, isn't it?"
"Strange," Ron muttered under his breath to himself.
"I want to find that book," said Harry firmly. "I want to know why it did that to me and if it's the reason I have this stupid dream constantly. I'm probably going to have it again tonight or tomorrow," he said angrily.
Hermione seemed to be thinking along the same lines as Harry when she said, "The Mark of Ancients is not back, Harry, if that's what you're thinking. It was thoroughly removed from you. Your skin glittered gold and then glowed white and it, like, leaked off of your body and dissolved in the air just above you. And you can't make your skin do anything of the sort now, can you?"
"Nope," said Harry, feeling a little better.
"Just keep your head on," said Ron. "Nothing's going on this year except for a few strange mood swings. It's all nerves," Ron suggested and Harry wanted to agree, "about the Triwizard Tournament."
"Right," said Harry, looking between Ron and Hermione and nodding.
"Now come on, we haven't been to see Hagrid for ages," said Hermione.
"Want to come, Ginny?" said Ron, turning to her and picking up his cloak. "You haven't really spoken to him a lot..."
Nothing fascinating did happen until one fateful day in the Great Hall when a loud crying burst out somewhere in the middle of the Ravenclaw table. A boy and a girl, Harry knew as first years, were both seen dashing out at top speed, the girl's hand to her mouth and the boy holding her to him. Harry was reminded of the few months two years ago when he thought he had a sister. The memory brought nothing but hate.
"What happened to them?" said Hermione curiously.
And then, as a wave of murmurs broke out over the Great Hall, the name Christabell Florence and Addie Jungalavingi crossed his ears. Harry vaguely remembered there being two Florences but just then, Parvati Patil said that she just fainted and a second later, Harry saw someone carrying her out of the Hall.
Hermione clasped a hand to her mouth as what happened reached their ears: the Dark Mark and Macnair, a Death Eater. There was only one thing that Harry could think of, the Florence's parents had been killed and the Dark Mark casted over their house. Harry felt a hot surge of hatred toward Macnair. He had tried to kill one of Hagrid's pets, a hippogriff by the name of Buckbeak. Working for the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Magical Creatures at the Ministry of Magic, Macnair was the executioner. Mr. Malfoy, Harry knew, had them all in his pocket and his son having had been bitten by Buckbeak, was sure to have the hippogriff killed. But Hermione had pulled what was a miracle out of their pocket -- or rather, the front of her robes. Using Hermione's Time Turner, a magical device capable of sending the wearer back in time, which she was using for classes that year, rescued Buckbeak.
Harry didn't like Macnair then and after finding out he'd been a Death Eater, didn't like him any more now.
"How do they know it was him?" said Ron, jolting Harry back to his senses. "Was he caught?"
"Yes," said Hermione, as a screech owl brought her a copy of the Daily Prophet and she looked at the front page. "Here, it's short, listen."
THE DARK MARK CASTED OVER A HUMBLE ABODE
The Florences, a Muggle family very much in touch with their wizard and witch children, were discovered with the Dark Mark over their house yesterday morning, reports Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent.
"Rita..." Hermione whispered angrily.
The Florences enjoy two of their children attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy while their son attends the graduate program of Laurence Patrick Hayden's school of Paladism in the United States.
When Hermione finished, she looked up at Harry, who's eye was twitching.
"I'm going to kill him," he said softly, "I am --"
"Are you mad?" Ron burst out. "Kill Voldemort?"
Harry didn't say anything, he just sat there, staring at what had to be another friend of the Florences, weeping in her seat at the Hufflepuff table. Somewhere in the back of all the mess, Harry could distinctly see Malfoy laughing with Crabbe and Goyle. Dudley, Harry was surprised to see, had moved a few seats away from them.
The next week during one Potions class in which Professor Figg was reminding the class to bring gas masks for when they worked with that horribly smelling potion ingredient, Harry was longing to get away. He had remembered that Charm to make the air fresh and didn't need reminding of that smell. Raides, having gotten word from hermione, wished not to attend but Harry forced her to. It was Professor McGonagall who poked her head inside to save him.
"Arabella, Potter has to have his wand checked for the tournament," she said.
"Very well," Professor Figg replied. "Harry, we will be working with it at a date to be announced. Good luck!" and she bid him farewell.
"You are, obviously, not allowed to use your staff in any of the tasks," said Professor McGonagall, though Harry thought she looked like she wished he could, as they walked along the corridors, Raides walking silently behind Harry. "That horrible Skeeter woman is here" -- and Harry would make it a point to tell Hermione -- "and she's going to want pictures. She is ordered by Fudge himself to keep quiet about anything nasty but you know her."
"Oh, I do," said Harry, "and I think the end of her is going to come," he muttered with a smile under his breath, which made Professor McGonagall look curiously at him.
Rita Skeeter was an unregistered Animagus and had been using this to ferret around Hogwarts during the last Triwizard Tournament when she had been explicitly banned from the grounds. The Slytherins had been giving her interviews and it was only when Hermione discovered her little secret did she stop... at least, until recently...
"Here you go, Potter," said Professor McGonagall when they reached the familiar classroom, a fairly small one with all but three desks pushed against the walls. She left him there and walked off.
Up at the back wall were the three desks, placed end to end-in-front of the others, leaving the rest of the classroom as one, wide open space. Sitting in the middle desk was a familiar, wizened old wizard by the name of Mr. Ollivander, the one who had sold Harry his wand. The tops of the three desks were covered with velvet and there were two chairs on either side of Mr. Ollivander. Bagman was on one side with Percy on the other. Rita Skeeter was on the far end and the fifth chair was empty. Percy was looking strained and brooding, like he had better things to be going on with than to be checking out silly wands for defects.
When Raides walked in, everyone except Percy gave a startled gasp.
"Hello," said Raides brightly before curling up on a comfortable piece of floor.
Rita Skeeter was dressed in magenta robes, her black fingernails matching the black hat she was wearing and looking funny next to her crocodile-skin handbag. Standing next to her was her photographer, a paunchy man holding a large black camera.
Sebastian and Adrianne were already there, each not talking to the other, Sebastian leaning against the wall, straight-backed and proud. Meanwhile Adrianne had immediately bounded forward to Harry the moment her shock over Raides was over.
"Ah!" said Bagman brightly before she got to say a word. "Our third champion! Good, good. Now, nothing to worry about, just the Weighing of the Wands, to check that your wands are in perfect working order. You'll be making great use of them throughout the tournament and they're you're most valuable tool so you'll want to be sure they're in top notch working order."
Dumbledore strode in with Madam Maxime and a nervous Karkaroff as he was finishing up and said, "May I introduce Mr. Ollivander, our wand expert, who will be checking to make sure your wands are fit for the tournament."
Mr. Ollivander was a frail, old wizard. Harry had seen him last year when he had spoken to him about Raides when everyone thought her to be just a myth.
"Mademoiselle Delacour, if you please?" said Mr. Ollivander.
Adrianne left Harry's side as he went to stand by Raides. She handed him her wand.
"Ahh," he said. "Beechwood... flexible... nine and half inches... somewhat springy and containing... ah yes, the same as Professor Delacour's own wand -- a hair from the head of a veela. Your grandmother's too, I presume?"
Adrianne nodded. Mr. Ollivander then ran his fingers up and down the wand, apparently checking for inconsistencies or cracks.
"Fragrodorus!" he shouted and a pink cloud erupted from the tip of Adrianne's wand, meeting Harry's nose and smelling very nice. "Perfect working order, if I do say so. Mr. Leon, you next."
Sebastian smiled deeply, pushed his shoulders back, now looking more cocky than ever as Adrianne went to sit at the end near the back of the room. He handed Mr. Ollivander his wand and he immediately gave a shudder.
"A rather... well, it should still work," he said uneasily, his fingers caressing the tip for a good few seconds before he twirled in his fingers. "Very stiff -- and being made of rock elm wood, it's hardly surprising -- and barely moveable at that. Containing... dragon heart string, is it?"
Sebastian nodded proudly.
Mr. Ollivander checked his wand as he had done with Adrianne's for cracks in the wood muttering something about it being dumb since rock elm never cracks or chips. "Gregorovitch, I must have a word with him," he said. He then muttered under his breath, before waving it and shouting, "Remedium Impluo!" A light rain appeared at the tip of Sebastian's wand, which Mr. Ollivander held out over the front of the velvet and showered the stone floor.
"Last but not least, Mr. Potter."
Harry stepped forward, handing Mr. Ollivander his own wand as Sebastian joined a reluctant Adrianne at the seats.
"Yes, yes, yes... and I can still remember that day... and the phoenix from which I pulled a tail feather out of. Oh he was not happy, Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes, not at all --"
"Harry's wand contains a feather from Dumbledore's phoenix?" burst out Percy before he probably knew what he was saying. Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling and he nodded to Percy.
"This wand's been through a lot," Mr. Ollivander went on and on, "yes indeed. Made of holly, eleven inches long. Quite springy, very powerful..." He examined it for a while longer before shouting, "Alohomora!" pointing it at the closed door. Absolutely nothing happened.
Harry, Dumbledore and Mr. Ollivander were all staring at the wand. He tried again and this time a cloudy puff erupted from the wand but still, the door did not open like it was supposed to. Mr. Ollivander ran his fingers along the length of the wand once more, then shouted a little more loudly.
Harry's wand gave an almighty lurch, shaking Mr. Ollivander's hand violently. Without thinking, Harry pointed a finger at Dumbledore who was standing right in his wand's path and shouted, "Accio!" A burst of green light had erupted from the wand tip, crashing into the wall where Dumbledore was standing. He would have been killed had Harry not used a Summoning Charm to pull him out of the way. He crashed into Harry, who fell over. Dumbledore helped to him to his feet...
No one knew who to stare at except Dumbledore: Harry or the wand. Dumbledore himself was staring at Harry, who had just saved his life. Mr. Ollivander was sputtering incoherently and Harry had a horrible feeling Rita Skeeter would be conjuring up something nasty about this little episode with her Quick-Quotes Quill.
"How -- what --?" Bagman tried to say, much to the sentiments of everyone else.
No one said a word or even seemed to be breathing for a few minutes. Mr. Ollivander dropped the wand after a few seconds.
Harry picked up his wand back and was asked to try to open the door with it, which worked in one try for him, as did the Fragrance Charm and the Healing Rain Charm. Mr. Ollivander, shaken, though clearly not as much as Dumbledore, who was still staring at Harry, who in turn was red as a brick, declared Harry's wand fully functional. Harry did recall how he had accidently broken his wand and repaired it with Raides. He shared this information with everyone, keen on hearing an explanation as to why his wand just casted the Killing Curse.
"Broke it, you say?" said Mr. Ollivander. "Then fixed it with the staff?"
"Yes. Cracked it in half. But it's been working perfectly for me," Harry informed them, looking around, just as confused as everyone else.
"Only staves are known to exhibit this behavior," said Mr. Ollivander, looking at Raides, who was grinning up at him as he said this.
"It was just a Repair Charm," said Raides.
Dumbledore finally seemed to be able to speak. "That would not have changed the nature of Harry's wand," he said. "I have seen this happen several times... but each time the reason had been different."
The mystery of Harry's wand trying to kill Dumbledore spread around the school like wildfire and Harry now had a new rumor to squash: that he wanted Dumbledore dead. Rita Skeeter reluctantly skipped photographs like she had intended on Dumbledore's orders. Knowledge that Raides didn't like her wasn't helping the matter but it was very fortunate for everyone else.
Dumbledore and Harry reached a silent agreement to not discuss the matter, Harry being too embarassed at having saved his life and Dumbledore...
November the twenty-eighth drew nearer and Harry's nerves mounted higher and higher, like only the approach of the game deciding who would win the inter-House Quidditch Cup could do. The only thing he wished he knew, aside from when Cho would reply to him, was what the first task was going to be. He contented himself with knowledge that he knew many, many charms and hexes and even if he was to face a dragon, he might even have a chance at knocking it out with the ice dragon and inferno spells. Hermione seemed to think Harry had lost his mind for suggesting he could do this but she changed her mind after Harry tried his hand at tackling a lightning dragon of his own conjuring.
"Draconus fulguralia!" Harry bellowed, Raides in hand.
Like had once had happened before, Harry's hand felt like it had been shocked and Raides fell out of it, but not before a bolt of lightning cracked from the crystal, sending a one hundred foot high dragon into the air. Several nearby students, including Harry, Ron and Hermione, screamed and some ran.
Harry wand in hand and shaking slightly, bellowed, "Infernus grandis inflamora!" when the dragon's loud roars filled his ears.
The ground beneath the dragon rumbled and a pit of fire opened up as a burst of fire shot forth from his wand to the dragon, making it disappear in a fury of lightning sparks. Harry grinned at the stunned faces of Ron and Hermione.
"You do remember that time I used Inferno without a wand? Just a shame I can't use Clades Ultimus or Light of Faith without the staff," said Harry. "Those two spells alone would take care of anything."
"Yes, and take care of you if you use Clades Ultimus improperly," Ron reminded him darkly.
Harry recalled again when a Clades Ultimus he had done under influence of the Imperius had gone awry and exploded Colin Creevey. Both spells were ancient magic, Clades Ultimus being a particularly potent spell that killed anyone in a large region if they came in contact with a cloudly, blue haze. If improperly focused, it could kill just about anyone, including the caster, in a shower of blood and gore. Light of Faith, Harry learned, only worked against Dark wizards... and then he recalled how it worked on one Thantanos Brev during a dueling tournament at Hogwarts whose real name was Thantanos Quirrell...