Chapter 23: Collido
The sky was grey and dull, and the Thermos spell was beginning to wear off as Harry huddled at his lab table in front of a decaying book. He'd set himself to the mind-numbing task of translating a spell book from Latin to English (or at least the spell titles), but he wasn't feeling well, and was starting to wish he'd just taken a nap instead. He turned the page, and raised his eyebrows.
"Expotentia Imperium…Spell of Power?" Harry read through the description, but it was annoyingly vague about what the spell was supposed to do. Harry double checked the directions, practicing the wand movements. It looked simple enough, and unlike other spells in this book, it didn't have any "this might explode" warnings.
Harry rapped his fingers against the desk, debating. With the begrudging permission of the Headmistress, he'd had his private lab warded for practicing spell casting. The protections allowed him a measure of safety when doing magical research, but they wouldn't protect him from blowing his head off if he wasn't careful. Then again, testing out random spells with next to no precautions seemed to work for the Weasleys.
Well…he wouldn't be that reckless.
Harry pulled out a bottle from his spell testing kit and placed a small piece of charmed cork inside. If he made a mistake in his spellcasting, the cork would soak up the energy and trap it, discharging it harmlessly over time. This was standard procedure for testing, though technically, he was skipping a few steps. Like priming the cork with a potion that took hours to prepare, and soaking the bottle overnight, and parsing out each word of the spell and repeating it over and over before picking up his wand.
Then, in a fit of 'I don't even care, what's the worst that could happen?' Harry stood up, flicked his wand, and pointed into the mouth of the bottle. "Potestas Imprimas!"
He waited. Nothing happened. Harry tried again, and still…nothing.
Harry suddenly felt a surge of anger, and he set down his wand before he could accidentally snap it.
He shouldn't even be surprised. This just seemed to be his fate in life, to try and fail. It had happened last week with the 20th explosion of his transfigured rocket. He'd used the Dongurami spell, which seemed to work by creating a seal around an object to protect it. Harry had reasoned, based on the type of spell he was dealing with, that it actually cemented magical energy, creating a barrier from the outside world and encasing the magic within.
If there was something in the upper atmosphere that triggered a breakdown in magic, he theorized that it might be possible to circumvent that using a seal around the rocket, essentially forcing the transfigured magic to remain inside. Furthermore, in a capsule on his rocket, he'd a had a second payload, which was also encased within the spell, and then a third and a fourth inside that, like a Russian nesting doll. If even one of those survived the launch, then he might have something he could work with.
But, of course, as Harry's scrying spell showed him, the entire thing de-transfigured at the exact same time, payload and all, and promptly exploded. Later that day, to add insult to injury, his closet started spewing toxic acid fumes. He'd stabilized and cleaned it as best he could, but it infuriated him that he was still cleaning up the mess from that stupid jinx.
At any rate, it looked like his closet of potion ingredients would soon be monetarily useless. He and the Weasleys were very close to a falling out. He'd thought that after Mad Eye's punishment, the twins would be done with love potions. Instead, they'd continued selling them anyone willing to pay. Their excuse was that they still had "too much inventory" and they needed to sell it before it "went bad."
Harry had patiently explained a more sensible solution, which would be to sell their extra stock to another store, like Zonkos. They'd balked at the idea, claiming that they couldn't allow third parties access to their "secret formula." Which was just stupid, because there were such things as patents and property rights even within the wizarding world.
If they insisted on their reckless behaviour, Harry had warned, he would have to dissolve their partnership. They would no longer have access to his supplies, and they would need to pay back his investments. Harry was thankful he'd insisted on getting everything in writing, but he wasn't happy he was about to lose his primary means of earning money.
Well, that's okay, we've got tons of better ideas, said Slytherin, as Harry crossed the room to his bookcase. For example, how about a book deal? Gilderoy Lockhart made a fortune on in his series of biographies, I'm sure the Boy-Who-Lived has enough clout to make at least half as much. It doesn't even have to be good writing, just slap your name on it and get Slughorn to promote it.
As Harry shoved his spellbook onto the shelf, a stack of papers fell off and scattered to the floor. With a sigh of irritation, he bent down and gathered them up. A few weeks ago, he'd written down some notes on a new, exciting experiment idea that he'd wanted to share with Hermione. He'd placed them on top of his bookshelf on purpose, ready and waiting for Hermione to pass by, pick them up, and ask him what they were about. They'd been sitting there untouched for almost a month, until he'd knocked them down.
Harry? About that book deal—
You know what, Slytherin? Shut up.
Harry threw the papers on his worktable and stormed out of the room, back into the main classroom used by the Bayesian Conspiracy. Dean, Padma and Seamus were reading some books from his not-private library, seated in a circle on the floor on transfigured pillows. For some reason, that made him even more annoyed.
"Harry, I've got a question…" said Seamus, before he glanced at Harry's face and froze, his words trailing off. "Are you alright?"
"No," said Harry, who couldn't keep the venom from seeping into his voice. "Cease talking to me."
Harry left, went up to his room, and hid in his trunk. Shivering with the cold and possibly a fever, he bundled under some blankets and tried taking a nap on his cot, but he tossed and turned. Finally, he pulled out his Auror mirror and stared at it. He'd messaged Hermione a few times over the past week, but she sent very short replies. She rarely picked up his calls.
In his mind, he saw her beside him, sitting on the bed, legs curled under her. If she were here, he would tell her about his rocket exploding and his friendship with the Weasleys imploding, and complain about feeling sick and miserable. She would listen, offer him some helpful advice, and maybe even give him a hug. Then, after teasing him a bit for being such a wimp over a cold, she would conjure up some chicken soup and stay with him until he fell asleep.
Harry's mind refocused on the present, and he saw his reflection frowning at his mirror. Maybe this time, if he called her, she would answer.
Attention, everyone, the 76th convocation of Harry's inner voices is now in session, said Ravenclaw. We're here to discuss whether or not he should call Hermione.
God, do we really have to do this again? groaned Gryffindor. Just call her, stop being a weenie.
Actually, according to my cost-benefit analysis, that might be a mistake, said Slytherin. On the one hand, she might deign to talk to us, give us something like, "Oh sorry, I've been so busy, I'll call you when I get the chance." The voice came out falsetto. But there's an even greater likelihood that she'll just ignore us again, and last time we got so angry we almost smashed our very expensive Auror mirror.
Umm…said Ravenclaw. At some point, we might want to have a special session about our rage problem.
Argh, who cares! cried Hufflepuff. You realize that we only have half a year left with her? And I'm spending it talking to you losers! Gimme me that mirror!
Exactly! declared Gryffindor. And if calling doesn't work, just send over the Patronus. I don't care if she gets mad. Maybe I WANT her to be mad.
None of you are helping, sighed Ravenclaw. I swear, I should just host meetings by myself.
Does she hate me? whispered Hufflepuff. She said once that we were "too chaotic and evil and stuff." What if she's just done with me? She's probably been ghosting me this whole time!
The thought made Harry freeze in place.
Alright, don't panic, said Gryffindor. Let's just call her and politely ask her if she hates Harry, so we can decide if we need to find the closest bridge to jump off of.
Option 2, or the Rational Solution, prompted Slytherin. We cut her off. I, for one, have a lot of big plans in motion right now, and I don't need this drama in my life.
That settles it! declared Ravenclaw. As the only sane member, I've decided you're all banned from Harry's decision making processes until you stop sounding like a bunch of loonies.
Harry's Auror mirror flashed, and Hermione's face appeared. "Harry? Are you there?"
He jumped, the mirror slipping through his fingers. Harry lunged forwards, catching it between his palms before it hit the ground. Sighing in relief, he turned it so she could see him. "I'm here! What is it?"
Hermione brushed a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "I know we haven't talked much lately, so I don't know if you're still interested in doing the quest, but I really hope you'll join me."
"Quest?" said Harry. "What quest?"
She blinked. "You didn't sense it?"
Harry opened his senses to the wards of Hogwarts, and there it was, a bright, shiny new quest. He'd been so caught up in his moping that he hadn't realized.
He caught up to what she was saying, "You want me to come with you?"
She shrugged, the motion awkward and hesitant. "If you're not busy. I was going to call and make plans anyway, but then this came up. I know you like the quests, so I thought you might want to…but then after what happened with the Weasleys I wasn't sure…anyway, we don't have to do the quest, but I want to see you."
Harry leaned back against the wall, his heart pounding as her words frazzled his brain.
"Meet you at the quest door?" she said.
"Yes…uhh…be right there!" he said.
He leapt off the floor and went to where the magic called him.
Harry, in his haste, got to the quest door before she did.
The chosen location was an old, rarely used hallway in the upper reaches of the castle. As usual, the place was deserted, and the wind rattled through the windows like they weren't even there. Harry coughed into his sleeve and searched in his pouch for a warming charm. He applied the patch to his robes, feeling the warmth suffuse them, but then wished he had a second one for Hermione.
Harry rubbed his hands, trying to plan out exactly what he would say to her when they met. Even if she didn't hate him, he still felt anxious, like he had to prove his worth as a friend to her.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard the echo of a chanted spell. The words had the familiar cadence of Hermione's voice, and it sounded almost like a melody. He heard it from time to time, especially when he felt upset or stressed. Then every time, without fail, he would feel a warm, pure energy settling in his chest—as if her magic were intertwining with his own. It was strangely comforting, but raised the question as to how and why it kept happening.
One option was that Harry had an overactive imagination, which was…not entirely unlikely. Even so, Harry wondered if, in one of his Obliviated memories, he and Hermione had cast a binding ritual on each other. It would explain that strong feeling of kinship, almost of obligation he felt to protecting her, as that was one possible result of a ritual bond. It also would explain why he often could feel her magic, as if it really had joined with his.
Bonding rituals usually required a huge sacrifice, and were difficult to perform correctly, so he didn't understand why they'd ever take that risk. And yet, every time he felt that magic, he became more convinced that's what it was. He'd have to ask Hermione about it at some point, when they were talking to each other more than once a fortnight.
A few moments later, Hermione rounded the corner to the hallway, her steps light but slow. Harry gazed at her, his heart stirring with concern. There were dark circles under her eyes, which were glazed over as if she hadn't slept in days. It was like her spirit was exhausted—or her brain, he supposed—and her body couldn't keep up.
"Harry," she said, smiling gently. "It's good to see you."
"Hi," said Harry, fielding a thousand questions, before asking simply. "How've you been?"
She shrugged. "Very busy. And…" She trailed off, then shook her head. "Just trying to keep up with everything. Are you feeling well? Your voice is raspy."
"I'm fine." Harry watched her raise her wand to open the quest door. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yes." She smiled at him again. "Let's play this game. I'm curious what the quest gods have in store for us."
The door opened and she passed through, Harry shuffling in behind her.
It was a long, slow walk down the dark corridor. The cavernous wall dripped with wetness, gathering in pools on the muddy ground, and the air was cool and damp. Hermione shivered, and Harry, without thinking about it, took off his warming charm and gave it to her.
"Oh…" she said. "I don't need it. I can't get sick, and you've been coughing, so you should keep it."
Harry didn't want to, but he clipped it back onto his robes. She cast a warming charm on herself, which in this damp environment would only last about five minutes, and they walked on.
When they got to the quest door, they found it was enormous, as if built for giants. In the dimly lit room, Harry couldn't even see the top. Along the sides were two ladders built into the walls, indicating they should climb up to unlock the door. "Well then," said Hermione, squaring her shoulders. "You take one side and I'll take the other?"
Harry grinned—he knew he should warn her, but it was just too tempting. "I've got a better idea," he said. Slipping one arm around her waist, he launched them into the air.
She gasped and clutched at his robes. "You can fly?" she asked, disbelieving. "How?"
"Broomstick enchantments on my bones," he said casually. They neared the top of the archway, and Harry slowed to a hover. Hermione still clung to him, staring into his shoulder to avoid looking down. "Are you scared?"
"You know I hate flying," said Hermione, her voice tight from strain. "Even though I know I won't die if I fall, it's just…I can't help it."
"I won't drop you," said Harry. "You're not even heavy—you might as well be a feather on the moon." He cast Lumos with his wand, which spread warm light into the dark cavern. Large, diamond shaped stones glittered in its glow. "We can work a lot more quickly airborne than reaching from a ladder. We just have to work together to figure out the correct pattern."
Hermione raised her wand, her arm shaking with every movement. Harry chuckled, and she scowled. "Be quiet, you." Hermione cast a light ball, which hovered close by. "There, now you can turn off your Lumos spell and help me."
"But Hermione, if I cast a spell, I'll probably shake like this." He fell into a sudden jerk downward, and she yelped and clung tighter.
"Harry!" she said, her face flushed bright red, which just made him laugh even more. "Stop teasing."
"Alright, alright," he said, manoeuvring his wand into position. "Let's try out a few sequences."
After some pattern testing, and hovering back and forth around the door, Harry was ordered to set Hermione back on the ground before she "threw up all over him." He finished the puzzle by himself, and when the right sequence was tapped, Harry heard a chime. The door flashed with a festive display of red and green.
"There's two colours this time," said Hermione, as Harry descended. "Does that mean the quest is both Slytherin and Gryffindor?"
"Yes, indeed," said Harry brightly. "Ready for your first Slytherin quest?"
Hermione glared up at the blinking lights, as if the quest gods had betrayed her, and then sighed. "Just don't gloat too much, okay?"
As usual, the first quest was a nice, easy one. Hermione suspected that the game would escalate depending on how well you did in the quest—how long you took, how quickly you adapted. She figured if the game was that smart, then it should know she really wasn't in the mood for a Slytherin quest.
But it was also her first real Gryffindor quest, and that part was exhilarating. They were tasked with ridding a town of a group of giant spiders. Her weapon was a Bow of Lost Souls, and she would shoot fire arrows from a distance as they tried to scale the walls. Harry had a Gun of Screaming Ghouls—which made the spiders' heads explode—and he took full advantage of his flight abilities to blast the spiders from above.
When they finished that quest, and left the town amid the cheerful waves of the villagers, they found the second quest door in the middle of a barren field. Hermione felt sad when the door wouldn't open until she dropped her weapon.
Inside, they were back in the cave. The room had one door on the far wall, still locked, and two rows of cabinets alongside it, with a table between them. Beside her, Harry started laughing, in the evil dark lord sort of way. "Oh, yes," he said. "Finally!"
Hermione still had no idea what was going on, but Harry turned to her, a wicked smirk on his face. Sweeping a bow, he said, "Hermione Granger, I am so happy to finally say this. I hereby formally challenge you to a duel."
Harry had taken care of the preliminary activities, meanwhile explaining the game to Hermione. Since it was an enchanted item duel, they set aside their charmed pouches. Harry had to change into spare robes, since the charmed pocket counted against him.
And now, rubbing his hands gleefully, Harry was examining his row of charmed items.
He still couldn't believe his luck. He'd almost given up hope, and now, the long awaited day was finally here.
"Okay, seriously," said Hermione behind him, as she examined her row of items. "These weapons are really bizarre, and I can barely make out what they're supposed to do."
"Yes, that's perfectly standard gameplay," he said, with a self-satisfied grin. "Less talking, more choosing."
He cast a glance over his row of items. There were the usual weapons, many of them little better than knick-knacks, especially against Hermione. He would need something more creative, an advantage to counteract her speed and strength. If possible, he needed something that could keep her from touching him, since otherwise, this duel would be fairly short and extremely painful for him.
"But…" continued Hermione. "That doesn't even make sense. We're partners. We shouldn't be fighting each other."
"Ahh, but you forget that this quest is part Slytherin," Harry said, inspecting a potion. "It's only fitting that we plot against each other."
There was silence for a moment. Then, Hermione said, "What happens if I forfeit?"
Harry almost dropped the potion, the weight of disappointment crushing him. "Well, I don't know, but I imagine since it's both a Slytherin and Gryffindor quest, you'd fail on both counts, and we'll be sent to the punishment area. Please don't do that, Hermione. I know you're not particularly fond of duelling with me, but you can't give up before you even try."
He heard her let out a short laugh, then she said, her voice musing, "Maybe I should make a deal with you? A battle in exchange for something I want?"
Harry's mind whirled. "Umm…you mean for the quest prize? Hold on, let's turn around."
They turned to face each other, separated by the wooden table. Harry couldn't see the row of weapons behind her, though he faced it directly. The items were different from his, but he wasn't allowed to examine them until after they'd chosen their own weapons. Usually there was a timer counting down during the selection, but the clock still hadn't started, so Harry wondered if the rules were different this time. He had never battled an actual person before, just NPCs.
Harry folded his arms. "So, what sort of quid-pro-quo arrangement shall we make, Ms. Granger?"
Hermione bit her lip, her eyes searching the whorls on the table for answers. "Well, how about…umm…in exchange for me participating in this duel, you agree to do me a favour in the future?"
Harry raised his eyebrows—Professor Quirrell would rise up from his grave to curse him if he agreed to that. "I think there should be some parameters to this favour. I don't want to have to give away something of great value—like a 1000 pounds, for example—just because we struck this deal."
Hermione smiled, a hint of mischief behind it. "Well, don't worry, I don't need your money. And I suppose you'll require a 'no kissing' clause too?"
His cold chose that exact moment to throw him into a coughing fit, which only increased his embarrassment, since she would think they were related. "You know, Hermione…umm…that's not exactly fair. I was only eleven the last time you tried to kiss me."
She drew patterns with her fingers on the table. "Most eleven year old boys aren't that disgusted by kissing, especially not with beautiful and accomplished witches. But I suppose we have to make an exception for Harry Potter, who is just too god-like for those plebeian pleasures."
"I'm not disgusted by it," retorted Harry, offended. "I'm sure that once I find someone that I want to kiss, then it will be a pleasurable experience for both of us."
It was only after he said it, and Hermione started laughing, that he realized how ridiculous that sounded.
"I'll believe it when I see it," she said, eyes shining with mirth, still with that mischievous smile.
Blushing, Harry angrily ran a hand through his hair. "Okay, whatever, I accept your terms. If you give me a fair fight, I'll grant you a favour, taking it on good faith that you'll be reasonable." They shook hands. "Now, let's get on with this game."
Harry turned back to his row of enchanted items. Forgetting the weapons, which would be unlikely to work on her anyway, Harry turned to the charms and potions. He scanned the row, picking up a few to examine them, until he happened upon something interesting. He'd used it once before, in a battle where its power had hardly been necessary. But this time…
He grinned, his brain already running ahead of itself with his plans.
"I'm ready," said Harry.
Bing! The timer started, showing that Hermione had one minute left.
He could hear her taking a flustered breath. He turned around to see her biting her nail, staring down at her table. She picked something up that he couldn't see, a frown on her face. He wondered if she'd ever seen these sorts of items before. Based on her reaction, it seemed like her first time.
I would love to teach her a few things, if you know what I mean, said an unknown voice in Harry's brain.
Umm…who was that? asked Hufflepuff, fearfully.
I don't know, said Ravenclaw. Let's just ignore it. We don't need any more voices.
Beside her, the clock counted down. 10, 9…
"Okay, I'm ready," said Hermione.
As it turned out, the game didn't start as soon as you said, "Ready." There were certain things to take care of first.
Both of them were given the option to examine the other person's table, for ten seconds, to get an idea of what their opponent had chosen. Hermione didn't see the point—ten seconds was barely enough time to blink. As she looked over Harry's table, the only thing that jumped out to her was that his items had been just as odd as hers.
Harry said, "Hmm," as he examined her table, as if he was getting some ideas. He was probably just messing with her, since it wasn't as if the item she'd picked was even made much sense, like it was a "Hermione-style" weapon. In fact, it was almost embarrassing how frazzled she'd been while examining her items. The descriptions for each one were insanely long, and she was a fast reader but not that fast, so she'd ended up reading everything and nothing at the same time.
Though she didn't know which item Harry had chosen, she knew it probably wasn't a standard melee weapon. He would choose magic that would either intimidate her or cause a distraction—the more chaos, the better. She thought back to the time he'd scared the bullies into submission with a fake dark ritual, sending blood oozing out from under doorways while phantom creatures let out guttural shrieks.
Everything about his fighting style was smoke and mirrors, primed to confuse the opponent to the point that they couldn't think straight enough to win. Hermione remembered what it felt like to be on the receiving end of that, and something inside her insisted that she would not be squashed like a sad, little bug by him ever again. Especially when he kept grinning at her, like he already knew exactly how he was going to win. And so, as the seconds counted down, Hermione chose a weapon that would fight fire with fire.
She grimaced, thinking of the small, inconspicuous item she'd chosen. Maybe she'd gone too far in the "fire with fire" direction. She hadn't had time to read the entire description, but if the item did what she thought it did…well, she just wouldn't use it unless she needed to. But that left her with nothing for the fight, while Harry had something incredibly annoying up his sleeve. She sighed. So help her, Hermione would find another way to beat him.
Once the viewing process was finished, Harry picked a coin from a slot in a small wooden table, which looked extremely out of place in the vast cavern. On one side, the coin said, "Elido" and on the other, "Collido."
"Whichever one it lands on, is how points are scored," said Harry. "Since I picked the coin, you flip it."
Balancing the coin on her nail, Hermione tossed it and caught it on the back of her hand. Glancing at it, she said, "Collido."
Harry exhaled in relief, and Hermione could guess why. "Elido" in Latin meant something like "knock out" and "Collido" meant "hit." It wouldn't be much of a fair fight if he had to knock her unconscious. She didn't even know if she could do that to herself.
"So, the first one to cause any kind of damage to the other is the winner," said Harry, explaining the rules as they headed back to the charmed items table. "Let's go get our stuff."
Hermione nodded. They headed back to the centre of the room, a bell chiming to signal the game was about to begin. "I must say," said Harry. "I'm quite interested in seeing which item you chose. Don't go easy on me, please, as I'm going to try my best against you."
That should have made Hermione feel more competitive, but instead she just swallowed and nodded.
They turned to face each other, wands at the ready. "On three," said Harry, raising his hand, still wearing that grin. "One…two…three!"
He snapped his fingers, and disappeared.
"Hominum revelo!" Hermione said, casting a wide array. Her spell told her no one was there. She tried again, but still nothing.
Oh, crap.
"Hello Hermione," said a voice behind her.
She turned, casting a shield just in time to avoid the sleeping hex.
He chuckled, the voice seeming to rise from everywhere.
"Let's play a game," he said, this time to her right.
Along the left well, Harry's form appeared. She fired on him, and he winked out of existence, reappearing a few seconds later.
"Catch me if you can," he said, grinning.
