Harry Potter and the Agents of Attor

by Chromewe11

Harry's name comes out of the Goblet of Fire but no one could have foreseen that written on that same slip of paper was Draco Malfoy. Resented by their houses and forced to participate in the Triwizard Tournament together, the two once rivals form a grudging alliance in their struggle to survive the trials ahead. Rated MA.

19. Metamorphoses

Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the book series by J K Rowling. I own nothing all characters belong to the JKR. Also a big homage to Franz Kafka too.

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Chapter 19 - Metamorphoses

As Rita Skeeta awoke from an uneasy sleep she found herself lying in her bed staring at the ceiling. This didn't feel strange until she recalled how blissfully cool and comfortable the hard floor of her kitchen had been. Even though she knew she was in her bed she could barely feel the fabric of her sheets slipping beneath the hard shell of her round back.

Rita tried to yell in surprise but only emitted a high pitched squeak. Her six legs scrambled helplessly in the air as she tried to roll over. She had no recollection of how she had gotten into bed or why she had transformed. Panic crept through on Rita.

Fully awake, she attempted to revert back into a human form - back into a witch. Nothing. Rita felt no seed of magic within to even make the change. Her muddled thoughts became clearer as fear set deeper into her heart. It was like that part of herself had vanished and now she really was no different from her guise of an insect.

She began to rock herself side to side and pushed out with a fore-wing. Like this, Rita rolled herself upright and finally could stand on all of her legs. Circling the edge of her mattress her new reality sank in. The bed which was disproportionately small - no, she realised with a great amount of confusion it was herself that was now disproportionately large.

Everything was so quiet, Rita crawled up along the wall over to her window. She dragged the curtain open best she could with her mouth. Outside, there was no familiar view into the back alley of London, no towering office buildings that once surrounded her flat. Just a blank black empty space, not a star or streetlight to be seen.

She tried to heave herself through the window but it would not break. When she next tried the door nothing so much as creaked out of place. After a few minutes of feeling utterly lost, she began to circle the room inspecting it with a close eye.

Everything was in its proper place and exactly as she left it. The clothes in her wardrobe were her own down to every fabric and colour. Even the peel in her wallpaper was exactly the same. This was her flat to the tiniest detail, yet it was like someone had removed it from London and placed it into oblivion.

"Hello, Rita."

Furniture rattled violently in the wake of a man's thunderous voice. From the corner of her compound vision, something outside the window moved. On her thin legs shaking she slowly returned to the window. Her mandibles opened wide trembling and she let out a woeful screech.

Through the glass staring down at her was a blank fleshy canvas. A face with no eyes, no nose or mouth. It stood towering larger than a giant, dressed in a smart suit, wearing a black gambler hat and a long overcoat. Realisation dawned on her that she might not be a very large beetle at all.

"I am sure you must be finding your current situation alarming but please try to remain calm."

Rita would call that the grossest understatement of the century.

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Just like the last drifts of snow that had been washed away by the rain, January slipped by quickly at Hogwarts. Each day was bleak and the sky buckled beneath the weight of heavy clouds. Melancholy clung to the students as they were all dragged unwillingly into the month.

The exception to this feeling being Tracey Davis, by some mysterious means she managed to remain bright and upbeat like a lone ray of sun. Because of this, Harry was happy to have her company.

After she had bailed on their first meeting about dishing out some comeuppance on Crabbe and Goyle, she apologised sincerely but excused herself with a flimsy "A thing came up." Whatever the 'thing' was, it wasn't mentioned again. That minor hiccup didn't get in the way of their plans, Tracey was too invested in the idea and determined to see it through.

Together they had picked out the ingredients from the greenhouses and snuck some out of the storeroom during potions. And with a little of Harry's help, she was granted permission to enter the Weasley twins' laboratory so they could work there together.

For the twin's workshop and laboratory, they had long taken over the seventh-floor boys' toilets. Since Gryffindor tower had their dormitories these toilets were obsolete. It was the perfect location for them to renovate it as they liked.

And make it their own they did. A large blackboard, full to the brim of ideas and notes, stood in front of the wall of mirrors. The sinks had become shelves and cupboards stacked with assortments of items and prototypes, all from the fake wands to the fireworks, while the cubicles and urinals had all been turned into rows of potion stations.

Here the twins went through the whole creative process for their inventions, from inception to first trials. After over a year of residence, they had added a few extra security measures. Mostly consisting of a proximity alarm, very subtle compulsion charms and a barrier ward behind the door, should anyone was strong enough to overcome them. And just in Making it anything more than Filch and student-proof would draw too much suspicion. And just in case of an emergency like Snape, a very sophisticated illusion spell should anyone enter without being given their special 'toilet pass'.

Tracey loved it and made herself at home immediately. Bringing snacks and completed her homework there almost daily. She even talked enthusiastically with the twins about their joke shop ideas when they had time away from brewing. Despite it being a fairly simple potion, Harry usually had to focus just to keep up both with the brewing and the meandering conversations.

"And that's why you never-ever-EVER cross a vudon witch. Their curses are pretty nasty, I can still remember that smell. Back then I couldn't even tie my own shoelaces."

"Gross." Harry made a face of disgust.

She really could talk. Her mouth worked faster than her hands, with the speed and deftness he'd witnessed her using a knife to prepare ingredients, that was something of an accomplishment.

"Yeah gross as hell. Muggles definitely saw it too! They probably thought he drank too much the night before though what with the way his body hung over the balcony after. But the witches of the Quarter, they all knew. But I mean, vudon isn't all bad either. Old Mags is just brutal and he double-crossed her first. She does also help out with other problems that need a lighter touch." Tracey added in 'Old Mags' defence.

Tracey's chatter came to an abrupt halt and Harry carefully watched her clap her cheeks as if to wake herself up.

"Anyway, no one messes with Mags. Dad had to have words with her to keep her handiwork out of the street. She is one of the few Orleans witches who'll do work for him. An interesting lady for sure, as old and crazy as Dumbledore but way scarier. Everyone calls her Old Mags or Mad Mags. I used to just call her granny. I usually try to buy everyone's birthday gifts from her shop because she sells loads of weird and cool stuff."

"And your dad isn't afraid of a witch like her?"

Tracey grinned. "Nope, they are technically family - if only distantly that's why I call her Granny. Dad is something like a pillar of the community so it's up to him to help keep the peace by keeping his people in line."

"Don't you have aurors for that?" Harry somehow had a hard time believing her Dad was respectable or anything of the sort, he sounded far too shady already.

"Nope, Orleans is different from New York and the other states, it's a free city so it has to self govern to uphold the statute of secrecy. But the lines blur a lot more than other places, muggles can get pretty close to witches over there. A little too close for the ICW's liking and it nearly always ends badly for the no-maj."

"I bet that ruffles a few people feathers."

"It does. Mecusa hates that it isn't in control of all of America, it's too big and no one likes outsiders flying in trying to enforce things. Further south and west the less control and influence Mecusa has. But there are standards that have to be kept, so they and the ICW do come poking around from time to time if things ever get too out of control. So long as most muggles are kept in the dark almost anything goes."

Harry listened quietly. I really want to travel, he thought with longing. Listening to her colourful stories really made him feel green with envy.

"Do you miss it there?"

Tracey paused and looked at him curiously before smiling. No one had asked her that question for a long time. "Of course, I miss the music the most, the food second and then the carnivals. Ah, it's been so long since I was there for carnival season! I almost don't even remember - I had to leave a couple years before starting here. It wasn't entirely safe there for someone like me. Dad isn't really in the witches of the quarter. They respect him but I'm the offspring of an outsider muggleborn, so as a kid, I wasn't accepted by them."

So the Orleans witch community was a little sectarian. Even in a free city, there was purism and xenophobia. Harry shook his head. "I don't see how it could be that dangerous for a halfblood, unless your dad has a lot of enemies."

"Oh dad has enemies and loads of rivals too. Feuds break out all the time, the witch community tries to stay neutral but they actually hold the deepest grudges. No-maj-born versus purebloods, coven against coven, same story different day. On Top of that, vampires and werewolves have been going at it forever too. That's a tale as old as time. Witches leave the wolves alone so long as they stay out of the city, but the witch-kind there hate vampires almost as much as the werewolves do. After one too many close calls, Dad had enough and started having me sent to the Greengrass' for safety whenever he thought things were getting too hot. In case someone wanted to use me to hurt him - they've tried it before."

Harry felt bad for her, she always seemed so upbeat he'd never had guessed she had grown up with those sorts of difficulties.

"He always blamed himself and it is kind of his fault but also not his fault? I don't know its complicated. I don't think he ever thought he'd be a dad, then Mom went and dumped me on him when she died." Tracey laughed again only a little more awkwardly.

"Can I ask how did she uh… go?"

Way to go being tactful Harry. He cursed himself and his awkwardness.

"Dragon pox, I was two or was it three..." She said rather simply. "It killed her in less than a week. She fled the war here only to die over there anyway. I ended up staying over longer and more frequently with the Greenrasses over the years until they decided I should be fostered there. Uncle Ant and Auntie Jo were officially made to be my godparents and guardians then I moved across the pond."

"Sent away like that by your own dad though, that's - I don't ow to say it. Sad? It must be hard." Harry said, even though he felt a twinge of envy.

Tracey shrugged and picked up a sugar quill from her bag, sucking on it thoughtfully before passing it to Harry.

"It could be worse. I got a second family and dad keeps me happy and safe. I was kinda treated like an illegitimate child sometimes but that never really bothered me much. I never showed my face too publicly, didn't even meet Pans and Millie till school started."

"But he chose Orleans over you. Shouldn't that make you angry?" His words came out harsher than he meant. Maybe it was because she hadn't been left on a doot step in the middle of the night.

"I was only a few years away from boarding here or at Salem anyway. He has big responsibilities, we go on holiday abroad in the summer where we can. When I'm of age and able to take care of myself, I'll go back and he can make up for the lost time, he's got plenty of it."

"You're going back?"

"Sure I am. I'm going to open a jazz bar and sell potions as a side business as a medicine witch." Tracey grinned.

Harry couldn't help but feel a little surprised. "Couldn't decide which you wanted to do more so you settled on both?"

"High-grade potions from fully-fledged potion mistresses are way too valuable, if I can get my skills recognised and break into the market then I won't have any trouble setting up shop. I did want to be a singer or musician after going to music school or something but that's too much travelling and I don't think the high life would suit me much. I've been told many times I have like zero decorum."

Harry snorted. "You'd annoy every agent you had and even your fans."

"Hey!" She complained and gave him a playful slap. "I just like the thought of settling down and putting down roots much better. I'll earn respect and be relied on by people like Granny is. As for the bar, everyone will be welcome, witches, wolves and vamps even goblins I suppose if their money is good. I'll need to turn a profit if I want the best ingredients. You should visit me when I'm up and running. On opening night you can be my first customer."

"I think I could manage that, fuck I might even want a job as a barman."

"Ooh that sounds great! You could even double as security. It'll be so much fun, you'd meet lots of interesting people and like I was saying there are loads of obscure branches of magic to learn about. They like tourists fine because of the money but if you want to stick around you need to follow the rules. You'd be fine either way cause you're, well, you."

"I don't suppose having 'The Boy Who Lived' as your number one patron and employee has anything to with wanting me there? Am I your way into being accepted by your Orleans witches?"

"You got me." Raising her hands, she gave another bright smile and turned her attention to the cauldrons sitting between them simmering, before saying quietly. "I'm sure you'd make them curious but I wouldn't bank on it. They are very set in their ways, all revering ancestors, obsessed with legacy and blood yada-yada."

Tracey leaned over to check the cauldron nearest to Harry. The final culmination of their work so far bubbled quietly in those cauldrons. Unexpectedly, she really did prove to be a brilliant potioneer. He hadn't believed her at first when she said she was a genius at potions. She was the complete opposite of Hermione. Tracey, much like her personality, did things her own way, deviating and experimenting as she liked.

"Professor Snape teaches the curriculum on how to achieve results and grades accordingly but doesn't teach you how to think like a potion maker. He expects you to work it out yourself. The subtleties are there but we've basically been left to figure them out on our own and if you don't already know that there are things to watch out for and learn yourself they'll fly over your head. However, I'm very kind so I'll instruct you properly. Brewing a potion is as much about feeling the potion as it is the make-up of the ingredients and their arrangement - or how and when you break them down. Watch and learn the ways magic twists and changes along with the composition. With the correct countermeasures, mistakes can be fixed and rectified. Of course, some mishaps really are unsalvageable."

The skin changing solution began with a similar base as polyjuice, only it was one measure of fluxweed and a handful of knotgrass. These were two staple ingredients when it came to potions that made the body susceptible to change. They added the tiniest sample of boomslang skin, foregoing lacewing flies and bicorn horn completely, as these were all unnecessary and costly. That put them at the halfway stage as they next stirred in two grams of rosin to be used as the stabilising agent before they proceeded.

"So long as you know which kinds of ingredients don't react well when mixed then diverging from the method a little to experiment wasn't too much of a problem. Providing you have a good idea of what you are trying to accomplish. Which I do, obviously. Remember this, Granger only performs well because she is a human-robot that tolerates zero mistakes while aiming precisely for the established result. Auntie Jo actually encouraged me to make mistakes, mistakes helped me learn loads."

As for when they could experiment, there were certain windows of time during the stages of potion-making that would allow the maker to alter the composition without melting the cauldron and creating a noxious mess. Knowing when these windows appeared and how to use them effectively was the secret to becoming a successful potion master. This was essentially what Tracey was guiding him towards, her analogies to cooking also helped him greatly.

Fred and George observed them in a rare show of acting responsibly. They agreed completely with Tracey's philosophy on potions - to the point of even expanding on her impressive know-how with a few pointers of their own. Hermione huffed in protest from the side but decidedly didn't interfere. She listened along closely and remained open to learning.

With Fred and George's advice, Tracey's insight and her unorthodox methods, they ended up adding some interesting alterations to their end solutions.

"What do you think, has it been twenty-one hours since the final counter-turn yet?" Tracey asked.

Inside the two cauldrons, the thin screens of mist swirled, occasionally disturbed by the odd bubbles that floated up.

"Yeah just about," Harry said as he checked the time.

"Cool, you do me and I do you?" Tracey winked and drew a vial of solution that was meant for Goyle. The liquid looked like muddy water.

"Don't say it like that."

She giggled at his reaction to her teasing. Then she threw the potion at him.

The solution splashed Harry in the face. It wasn't painful but he felt the skin on his face feel hot and tingly.

With her smile dissipating from her face her eyes widened, Harry's skin was bubbling like hot wax and turning grey.

"Now, Harry wait a minute." Tracey protested, slowly backing away.

With a grin and a tight grip on his vial, Harry lunged at her.

From outside the door, Hermione listened to laughter, a scream, giggles, another scream…

"Please, stop! Stop! It tickles - Not there!"

She could hear Tracey's muffled pleading through the door. Hermione briefly debated hurrying to the common room. She didn't really want to walk in on something. Then again if something was happening she also felt she should also put a stop to it.

Having come to a decision she shook her head with a frustrated sigh and opened the door.

She was greeted innocently with a "Hi Hermione,"

She looked down mortified at Harry who had greeted her from the floor. Half of his face was rough and jagged like it was made of stone. Pinned beneath him laid Tracey. Her cheeks now green and pimply like a frog's. Being squished together by Harry's hand, her lips pouted like a burbling fish.

She felt an odd sense of relief wash over but swallowing hard she gave them a disapproving look.

"She started it by throwing the potion in my face," Harry spoke up, quick to defend himself.

"It's true I deserve this."

"I'll get the cleansing salve, there should be plenty left still. Harry, off." She said calming down.

She felt a little jealous of how it had worked perfectly according to Tracey's proposed idea. By adding a tail of newt to Crabbe's cauldron and basalt to Goyle's in the second stage of the brewing after adding the boomslang and rosin; they successfully changed the texture of their skin as well as the colour.

Since both of them were having fun messing around it was safe to assume there were no adverse side effects either.

"Alright, here we go." She said and dipped her finger into a jar of waxy white cream that smelt like white spirit. Harry and Tracey sat up straighter and Hermione started with Harry's face first. "You really shouldn't have done this on your own. What if something went wrong?"

"Yeah, well, someone decided to show up late." Harry shrugged.

"And nothing will have gone wrong. Have a little trust, please?" Tracey added, still feeling smug.

Hermione could only open and close her mouth. She began applying the salve silently. But with that non-admission, Tracey hounded Hermione with questions about her whereabouts which she had to suffer through until the Twins finally arrived from their latest detention.

"We missed the final test, didn't we? How did it go?" Fred asked, slightly disappointed as he saw the cleansing salve work its magic.

"Does the job perfectly," Harry said with a thumbs up.

"Yeah, all thanks to the one and only me,"

"A little humility would do you wonders." Harry shoved her a little.

She snorted and wrapped her arm around his neck. "So now all the hard bit is over, can I ask?"

"Depends on the question," Harry answered.

She steered him around and pointed to Fred and George's blackboard, her eyes glinted determinedly. "What's hidden on the other side of that?"

"And why would you think something is there?"

"I caught you thinking deeply while staring at it a lot, all 'hmmm' and 'grrr'. Somehow, I don't think you care that much about vomit inducers. You've already all but sworn me to secrecy about what goes on here, so you can just tell me. Haven't I been good and patient all this time? Don't you think you should reward me a little?"

Like a child, she puffed out her cheeks and pretended to look angry. Harry rolled his eyes at her persistence and drew his wand. He flicked it at the blackboard causing it to spin, revealing the contents of the other side.

"Your reward, there. Don't say I never do anything for you."

Tracey's expression went blank and her eyes narrowed as she took it all in for a full minute. On one side of the board drawn in chalk, there was a diagram.

Three circles, an outer boundary, the inner boundary and a central circle. Between the inner and outer boundary an inscription. From the centre, a septogram was drawn outwards to the inner boundary, and at each of the points, runes were drawn. There was more still, the same runes written in reverse. Finally, in the spaces between the points of the star, six triangular symbols.

"This is a magic circle." She had to pause to read the runes properly. "And these alchemical symbols for the elements… is it transmutation? Ah no, this is a transfiguration spell right?"

This was definitely more up Daphne's street, but she had seen enough examples in Ancient Runes of spell circles and magic circles to know what it was, but they had yet to actually study them properly let alone start creating their own. If she had to hazard guess it was on par with a NEWT level project.

"You can tell that much too? From a first look, that's really impressive." Harry said.

"Er yeah? Don't ever underestimate me, Harry.", She tore away her gaze so she could smirk right back him with her hazel eyes glittering. "Besides this is far more impressive. How did you come up with this? It's way beyond anything Babbling is teaching us."

Harry shrugged nonchalantly. "It's been a collaborative effort. Hermione and the twins did most of the leg work."

"Not true, since it was almost entirely your idea." Hermione refuted, "Not to mention when we were missing two prime number values for the base equation you had a stroke of genius. We were stuck on numbers which to use and where we could put them. 'It is all just numerology and symbology in the end right?' and then he suggested the alchemical symbols for the elements. It's a little unorthodox but at the same time brilliant, I really wish I thought of it."

"Well, you thought of nearly everything else." Fred interjected.

"Leave some glory for the rest of us, Hermione." said George.

The twins were twisting her arm, they had proved Harry right their combine intelligence had been invaluable.

Hermione rolled her eyes and continued. "Two sets, that's where we get the prime numbers we needed. Three and three - earth, fire, air, water, air, water. And the symbols are made up of triangles too. So three-three-three and three-three-three, making nine and nine. While nine isn't a prime number it is still considered magically very strong because it is a perfect power of the prime number. They say the power of seven is the strongest. But that's only on its own when isolated, I'd argue the value of three is much greater because of its wider and more versatile applications. That's why we have things like divine proportions, hexagons have some of the strongest natural support structures, like in crystal systems. Like so, the elemental symbols create bonds that reinforce the intention behind the runes and incantation, those magical links focus the magic needed from Harry by both attuning and balancing out his affinities."

"That's probably enough Hermione. I'm sure she understands just fine."

Tracey just smiled to herself, what she had just heard was very interesting. Excluding magical jargon like bonds, links and focus which were just vague ways of explaining how magic interacts. What they had was essentially a threefold spell equation, the incantation, the runes and the symbols all running 'parallel' and perfectly framed within the spell circle.

"Everything perfect comes in threes." The phrase was halfway between superstition and credence to those who followed the Old Ways. It was something Johanna Greengrass was fond of telling Tracey and her daughters back at the Greengrass estate. As the middle child of three sisters, having three daughters, even if one was surrogate, seemed important to her. "You thought of all this?"

Despite her smile, Harry caught the strange but serious expression.

"The idea came from an old journal McGonagall mentioned to me. I tracked it down and read through it. It discussed the impacts of Norse seeresses, the Voluspa, had during their invasions throughout Europe. Besides their prophecies and bridging the gap between humans and their gods, specifically what I took interest in was their involvement in creating the berserkers and ulfhednar, and how they might have used a ritual before they went into battle."

"They were skinchangers that turned into part wolves and bears though." Tracey's eyes glanced to the other side of the blackboard.

"True, originally they used temporary incomplete transformations. We did some tweaks here and there - modelled and modernised a spell circle to do something greater."

If she found the spell circle to be impressive it was nothing compared to the drawing creature Harry planned to transform into. It was a frightening thing. Moreover, she could see how all of its anatomy had been drawn out and annotated in fine detail. It was clear the aim was for a complete transformation.

"That was all Harry, dear Tracey." Fred told her as she studying the drawing completely bewitched simply by the idea. "We never thought of him as an artist and a visionary before either. A real source of inspiration this one - given us a few new ideas of ourselves." He ended his praise with a chef's kiss.

"Will you give me royalties then?"

"We'll take it under consideration," Fred replied coolly, mimicking the way Harry often ran his hand through his hair.

"Have you tested it yet?" Tracey had to ask.

"The first two stages work, so far it is all arithmetically correct and arithmatically beautiful too," Hermione answered.

Trust Hermione to call numbers beautiful, Harry thought. Just as he had learned from Daphne how words and language were important in spells, he was also beginning to understand numbers were just as important if not more so. Numbers made up the laws of the universe and that included magic.

"The third stage is a little bit more delicate, Harry did go blind for a bit last Sunday after the change back, something to do with readjusting light sensitivity but we're not worried, he just needs to remember to have his eyes closed during the changes to and from," George told her.

Tracey suppressed a snort, unable to tell if he was joking or not.

"Give it another week and it will be finished." Fred agreed, nodding confidently.

"Very nice, this beats Malfoy's gillyweed hundredfold. Oh, his and Tori's faces will be exquisite, if you don't get top marks I will personally poison the judges myself."

"Hey don't-"

"I know, I know, top-secret until the task. My lips are sealed." She held a finger to her lips. "And I won't actually poison anyone either. Unless you want me to? Then I'm all for it."

They soon went back to work, with the method of implementing the engorgement charm for the prank. Fred and George really came through for them after they jumped on the idea to use an inscription to cast the equivalent of the charm.

When the time came for them to call it a night, Tracey made the long walk back down to the dungeons. With curfew inching ever nearer the castle felt emptier than usual. Silence followed her through the dark corridors, nipping at her heels as she climbed down the dungeon stairway.

She should have known something was amiss since she had yet to see a perfect patrol. Just as she went to turn her head she felt the sharp sting of a hex hit her in the back throwing her to the floor. She didn't see who had done it from the hiding spot but she heard a someone, a boy, probably older judging from the deepness of his laughter as he fled.

"Bastard." She winced.

She had to limp with great care the rest of the way, she felt so badly impaired she moved as slow as she could. Pain shot from her back through the rest of her body. The hex, whatever it was, caused her to have a severely painful nerve spasm. She didn't mention anything of it to her housemates Sally, Pansy and Millie as she passed them by in the common room. With a straightened back, she gave her usual cheerful untelling smile saying she was going to bed early. This was something the other girls interpreted as her 'personal time'.

She went straight to her trunk for a potion that could remove minor dark jinxes. She had always been prepared, especially for occasions like these. She made a note of the hex's effect and added it to the list of counterspells to look up. This had only been a warning. Knowing her little fun had come to an end, Tracey crawled onto Daphne's empty bed. She curled up and hugged herself until sleep came.

Harry was a little sad Tracey stopped coming to the seventh floor after that evening, but she remained true to her word, he was certain of that much. They made the final adjustments to their plan in their Ancient Runes lesson and the evening tutoring in the library after. Aside from that, the girl withdrew, back to the way things were usually meant to be. In Tracey's own words Harry was again 'persona no grata' to anyone in Slytherin. Even if she wasn't Daphne, he still had something to look forward to on Wednesdays.

---

When Valentine's day came around, it was a Sunday and day two of a Hogsmeade weekend. It arrived cold, grey and wet with sleet. The ceiling of the great hall told a beautiful lie, painting a blue sky with fluffy white clouds with cherubs raining heart-shaped confetti on the students.

The air in the hall was comfortably warm and the students all very lively but the voices of the great hall filled Pansy Parkinson's ears like pixies screaming. She really wished they'd all shut up and disappear already.

She watched with a gloom about her as owls swooped above dropping gifts and cards from admirers. The number of owls that visited the Slytherin table always seemed far fewer in number in comparison to the others. Of their housemates, Blaise naturally had the most fans. He enjoyed the flattery but only momentarily. As soon as he finished one letter, he vanished it and moved onto the next, giving none second thought. All the while he flirted shamelessly with Tracey trying to elicit some jealousy from her. Apparently, even the halfblood had people crushing on her now as several parcels were dropped in front of her.

All she did was play her stupid violin. She couldn't help but scowl, her envy brimming.

Theodore read his newspapers and drank his coffee, disconnected as he was. Similarly, Daphne engrossed herself in her book and hadn't lowered it even a little, it was like she had also reverted back to her old apathetic self. Pansy felt happier after seeing that she had received no mail at all, not even one. Finally, her eyes darted towards Draco entertaining Astoria again, she couldn't help herself.

Pansy couldn't understand why he didn't send her away.

It had been months since the first task and neither of them had really spoken a word since. In that time Astoria often talked happily to him during meals. It had become a regular habit. Draco looked blase, like he didn't seem to care enough to send her away at all. Surely he must find it embarrassing to have a little runt shamelessly playing up to him?

Annoying. Annoying. Annoying. So annoying.

The grinding sound of her teeth bounced around her head. She really wanted to snap but Pansy wasn't completely lacking self-control. Her eyes unconsciously travelled back to Daphne. She might be easier to deal with right now because of her sheer indifference, but Pansy knew better than to take it at face value.

Biting the nail of her thumb, she remembered full well the first time she seriously pissed Daphne off. It happened during their second year whilst under siege by the monster of Slytherin, just before Daphne and Tracey were taken out of school by Mr Greengrass. Penelope Clearwater was the first half-blood to ever be attacked.

"Maybe we will finally become an all pureblood school." Pansy blundered gravely with an insensitive remark right in front of Tracey.

During the night, after they had all gone to sleep, Pansy stirred awake to a presence, only to find herself unable to move. Not a finger. With her body paralysed like stone, she stared upward for what felt like an eternity.

Then the hissing started. When the first snake slithered up her leg, if she had been able to she would've screamed the whole castle awake. Yet her breath stopped dead in her chest as she feared it would be her last. While her neck was fixed stiffly in place, her eyes could only roll around, able to see them all. Desperately she wanted to cry and run, anything, she wished for anything to save her from it. She shut her eyes tight, but she still felt smooth scales brushing and sliding across her skin. Snake after snake came into her bed twisting and weaving on top of her still body.

When the sun finally broke the snakes disappeared. In the blink of her eye and she could move again. Nothing like it had happened to her before or since. Iris told her it must have just been sleep-paralysis and hallucinations caused by stress of the attacks, even though they purebloods and probably safe. Her words were reasonable and reassuring so Pansy chose to believe them. That same day Mr Greengrass sent for his daughter and her half-blood pet to be taken home.

"Hey, Parkinson."

A voice called out to her. She jumped in her seat. He stood over her very close. Closer to her than he would usually ever want to get. With his messy hair, a crooked grin and those beautiful eyes he inherited from his mudblood mother. For some reason she felt flustered and took a second too long to gather herself again.

"Potter?" She used disgust to veil her surprise. Was that a little hope she felt twisting her insides? It was Valentine's day, she supposed."What are you doing here?"

She glanced around. She could already feel it. The burning stares from Lautner and his gang felt hotter than fire. Everywhere Potter went he drew attention, now he had brought it right to her feet. It wasn't even the good kind of attention that she could enjoy either.

"I owe you an apology for Yule. About what people were saying about us. I'm very sorry." He said.

Pansy scoffed, there was no reality where that kind of apology could have been genuine. Daphne hadn't so much as apologised yet either.

But why is he here for me? She could only wonder.

She looked back to Daphne, this had to be some sort of game he was playing to mess with her. She regretted ever being seduced by Daphne's offer and allowing her to wear her likeness to galavant around with Potter. Despite knowing this beforehand, after some unsavoury rumours she felt foolish. And for that, she wanted to pay them both back. Since it was her name in the dirt. If there was a rift between the two of them now this would make a good opportunity to exploit it and make it worse.

As if she had read Pansy's thoughts, Daphne's eyes peered over her book and pierced her. Pansy's heart flinched in her chest.

She did her best not to recoil back and met Harry's eyes, "Apology not accepted. Now leave before it starts all over again."

"So you won't go to Hogsmead with me today then?"

For a moment she thought about Draco and then Daphne. She actually considered it for a moment, then she remembered Lautner, Avery and Warren's eyes were still fixed on her.

"Not on your life." She hissed and turned her back on him.

Harry looked over his Slytherin peers once over. Draco glared suspiciously while Blaise was smirking. Beside him, Tracey twirled her wand with a wolfish grin. With everyone focused on Harry and Pansy, no one noticed how she had disposed of some 'unwanted' Valentine's chocolates onto Crabbe and Goyle.

No one else met Harry's gaze, so with a satisfied shrug he turned away to leave the great hall, whispers rippled after him as he went. The fact his date for Yule had turned him down for Valentines would no doubt keep the gossip mongers talking all day.

"What was that about?" Pansy questioned Daphne, certain that she would have an answer.

As if on command, those directly sitting around them, Millicent, Theodore, Blaise and even quiet little Sally all struck up a debate about the duelling tournament. Pansy couldn't help but feel her surprise leap up into her throat and lodge there like a stone.

Daphne finally put down her book, "Honestly, I don't actually know. It looked like he was simply here to provoke us, it's not normally in his playbook but I wouldn't overthink it. We're finished, for now, so he can do as he likes."

Pansy's mouth hung open in surprise. "How? When?"

"Yule, come on you should at least be able to keep up, you love gossip."

"I thought you were just laying low?" Pansy paused for a moment as the realisation settled on her that she was likely the very last to know about this development. "I don't understand."

"As long as Potter and Draco are on track to win the tournament, that's all that matters to me. No need for me to infringe further." Daphne reeled what sounded like a well-practised line.

"Is that all this comes down to, winning that bet? What good is more gold to you?"

"I didn't gamble for gold Pans. What I want is the table and the head chair going into next year."

Pansy's eyes widened a little, her answer and smug confident expression hit her like a slap to the face.

It was just stupid silly petty house games, no real polity or civics involved. At most the head chair managed the prefects and helped settle everyone's disputes, she knew this. Daphne knew it even better. She always thought Daphne felt such a thing was far beneath her.

'It's just a little lords club. Pathetic really, it's not worth the time.' Iris had said. But she had just been bitter Lautner was getting picked over her. Iris was smart, gorgeous and the perfect prefect just like Steph - but it still hadn't been enough. Lautner made a deal with Stephanie and that's how the head chair often went.

Oh, Iris would love it if Daphne literally stole the chair from right under him. A tiny smirk played on the edge of her mouth.

"Are Lautner and Selwyn going to go for that? You'd be up starting over, well, everyone. And it isn't like you are all that popular."

Should she win the bet, it would also likely fracture the house among the next fifth, sixth and seventh years. Weekly duels in the common room. It'd be Snape's worst nightmare as head of house.

"I am aware. But popularity isn't all that important."

"Fear, respect, money and adoration, you only need the right tools to persuade the right people." Pansy said quietly as if to herself.

"See you're not simple, are you Pansy? It is good to see you are not acting like it." Daphne said, thoughtful.

"You're looking down on me again." She had to bite her tongue to refrain from calling her out on being a condescending bitch, even though was one and she knew it.

"I'm only trying to encourage you because you're not even trying to reach your full potential, Pans. The next few years will be over faster than we realise. If you let me help you-"

Pansy scoffed at her words. "Like you offered to help me at Yule?"

"I promised to help you get back at Draco. I did that and now you're moving forward. That is a win-win for you no matter which way you look at it. Without him you are less inside your own little make-believe world and you're starting to use your head again. You might be done with my help, but I could still very much use yours. I think I can even make it worth your while."

She felt a little uncertain how to take Daphne, being hit with both compliments and insults tied together was confusing. Too often it felt she was being called stupid and vapid.

So what if I played up being a little vacuous too much last year? That's only because Iris said boys like Draco don't like it when girls show off that they are smarter than them.

Daphne herself and Granger proved this point about Draco all too well. It had been too easy to get Draco to like her; sympathise, listen to his ranting, agree with him on everything, stroke his ego, scathe and mock Potter and his friends. It wasn't like she was in reality just a mean Lavender Brown.

She hated how right Daphne was, Draco dropped her like it was nothing and hadn't looked back. She wondered if either of them had actually felt anything deeply genuine towards the other than friendship.

Pansy stopped at that thought and stared back into Daphne's gaze. For once she didn't feel any coldness. The book was shut on the table and Daphne was leaning now forward in her seat towards her and the edges of her lips turned, showing her a warm smile.

"Set your sights a little higher. You have many hidden talents, Pansy. I think you could make a formidable witch yet. In your own way."

Pansy felt like she had been confunded. Her words got stuck in her throat as she blushed. "I don't - You don't mean that. You don't even like me," She looked away awkwardly from Daphne's intense stare.

"While it is true you could use a little attitude adjustment, but that is fine I can ignore it as you learn the right way of thinking. What I did not like was your half-brained plan on becoming some kind of trophy wife. You started too early, no one marries their first unless they are madly stupid in love or if it has already been arranged. Be thankful you didn't throw away your virginity so recklessly. Regardless, thinking of marriage before even graduating in hopes for a better life is not something any of us should be reducing ourselves to. There are many avenues and options you've not even considered yet."

Pansy scoffed. Becoming the lady of the house wasn't exactly a lowly aspiration for a pureblood woman. It may look on the surface of being a glorified housewife, to look pretty on their husband's arms at parties and nothing else. But the Malfoy family business was procuring and selling ancient magical artefacts, adding to the political duties of being an ancient and noble house. Which usually left the management of the estate and holdings to the Lady-wife, this had its own challenges. Not to mention it was a position that came with its own measure of wealth and power. It was hard to look at Narcissa Malfoy and not feel admiration. She was still a relatively young witch for a mother, smart and beautiful. She oversaw her household and raised a son all while holding her husband's ear on business and politics.

Pansy herself saw it with her own eyes on occasion. Narcissa was at the top of her social circle, speaking and those around her listening. Her opinions mattered. A word here and there to the right people: someone in the ministry was fired or legislation and bills were blocked in the wizengamot by a swing vote.

There was power there. Pansy almost laughed, really only Daphne was able to look at the prospect and still turn up her nose.

I suppose that's the difference a real inheritance makes. And Daddy is gambling all of our saving and investments away... She could only bury her face in her hands and scream at the inevitability of it. Which is why she needed to be ambitious and clever, sooner rather than later.

At the end of her second year when her eldest and only brother finished his seventh year, their mother had informed them all that their father had amassed a large sum of debts. To begin with, they weren't the richest family and there'd likely be nothing left of their vaults in several years. It wasn't something that children should really know about but Mrs Parkinson wasn't going to lie to them either. They'd be not much better off than the Weasley's and subsequently disgraced unless they found a substantial source of income soon.

Her brother didn't hesitate to take the job offered to him in Germany and turn his back on them, a work offered by Daphne's father's company no less.

Since then, Pansy had developed a crippling fear of being left behind. As the youngest, if she couldn't advance she might be left with nothing to do but live a destitute life. Maybe even be left with no choice but to nurse her ailing parents and grandparents as a spinster. The image was nauseating. All she ever wanted was a large beautiful home that was envied by all her friends, to be able to afford the best robes and dresses, to go to parties and dinners and be admired while still being influential. She wanted to be Narcissa Malfoy. Which was now next to impossible.

But now Daphne was saying she saw promise in her. That there was in fact a path for someone who at her heart knew she was only above average in looks and intelligence. Through Daphne she could be somebody, she could be great. It was a rare kind of praise and it would be naive of her to believe her. But it was still a nice feeling. Just maybe, allying herself with one of the richest girl in school might not be such a bad move, she thought.

"Oh and Pans, should you ever look at Potter the way you did just now - I can and will make you disappear."

And like that, she felt like a bucket of icy water had been thrown over her.

---

.

---

Harry left the great hall and into the courtyard. He didn't look back as the wind chill cut right through his bones, forcing him to retreat into his winter cloak and wrap it around him even tighter. He didn't need to see the outcome of the troll prank. He'd let Tracey and the bystanders enjoy the spectacle.

The plan was almost too perfect, even down to accountability. Harry had used a school owl to send Tracey a couple of boxes of chocolates dosed with the potion and the delayed response engorgement charm, courtesy of the twins, was triggered by unwrapping the chocolate. If anyone pointed to Tracey then she could claim that she was the intended victim and the only people who'd want to harm her would be from Slytherin themselves. Sure, he had been at the scene of the crime and make a connection but no one could prove he'd done anything. The two boys would be on their way down into Hogsmeade by the time they started turning. Knowing he would be long gone by then, Harry grinned to himself.

In a somewhat good mood, he made his way to the owlery. He brought extra bits of bacon for Hedwig which made her all the happier to see him. Her big yellow eyes blinked slowly as he scratched the top of her head.

After some time had passed, Fleur appeared in the entrance a little breathless as if she had been running from something."'Ello 'Arry."

Her hair was still damp from the mixture of rain and snow. She was wearing a long royal blue cloak, trimmed with grey fur. Her cheeks were slightly pink still from the cold.

"Good morning."

"Is it?" She gestured to the dire weather.

"It is." He grinned again. "She's excited to see you. Like she knows already, thanks for asking to borrow her again."

Hedwig flapped her wings impatiently, flying from his shoulder and landing on Fleur's awaiting outstretched arm.

"Thank you for lending me to her." She affectionately rubbed the feathers around Hedwig's neck before tying her letters to her leg. "You know where you are going now don't you, chérie?"

Hedwig gave Fleur an affirming hoot and took off, eager to feel the skies again. They watched for a minute until she vanished into the dreary grey clouds.

"Do you have plans today?"

Fleur gave a hollow laugh and shook her head. "You know I don't."

"I know, which is why I kept my day free too."

For one thing, nearly everyone had coupled up. Rachelle decidedly asked Alistair and he agreed, Cedric and Cho were only getting more serious, she was making him take her to Madam Puddifoot's tea shop. If that didn't tell Harry Cho wasn't right for him he doubted anything else would.

For Fleur, she only had the duelling tournament to look forward to that evening.

"Mm? 'Arry, are you asking me out?" She teased.

"If you like, you should count yourself lucky." He said he ducked his head a little trying to hide his embarrassment.

She laughed beautifully again and held hands behind her back "I zink you would be more lucky to 'ave my company no? And only zen, if I say yes. Did you 'ave somezing in mind? I am an 'ard girl to please."

"I don't doubt it, but I'm not aiming to please today. Where we are going and the way we are going you might actually end up jinxing me."

"Oh? Now I am very curious 'Arry."

"Well, how's your patronus coming along?"

Her face lit up for a moment before a flicker of doubt overcame her.

Harry chuckled, "I've found something that should help. Best get it first try today. I don't want to exhaust you for later."

Harry was happily surprised when Remus' reply to his last letter came, with it an answer as to what he had done with the boggart he had used to teach the previous year.

Together they set off from the owlery, their feet sloshed and sank in the mud as they crossed the grounds.

"Careful here," He said as they came to a halt not wanting to get too close.

Hunched over and shivering in front of them stood the whomping willow. As it sensed their presence it stood up alert and bristled, shaking its limbs and branches readying to strike.

Fleur peered behind Harry's back watching with curiosity as he picked up a stone from the ground. With the flick of his wrist and a sharp throw, he sent it flying at the knot at its trunk with crack.

"This is the Whomping Willow, it probably looks weird but it's dangerous. Ron and I drove his dad's old car into it once and now it really doesn't like me. Then it went and broke my broom last year." He explained as he gave the trunk of the willow a vengeful kick.

"'So 'Arry Potter 'as made enemies of ze trees also?" Laughed Fleur, she walked to the base of the willow's old gnarled base, it's roots rising from the ground like fingers. "But I am still wondering, what is it we are doing 'ere?"

"I told you the story about last year and my godfather before, but I missed a few of the finer details. This is one of the secret passageways out of the School and this one goes to the Shrieking Shack."

"Ah." Now it made sense to Fleur.

From the willow all the way down to the shrieking shack Fleur made many noises of disgust, to which Harry cackled. While didn't verbally complain, she really did not enjoy the unique smell of the under-earth or the way the rocky walls were slick with muck.

By the time they arrived at the crack in the cellar wall, Fleur's lovely blue cloak was now caked with mud.

"Merde." She groaned unhappily as she examined herself.

"Aren't you supposed to be made of sturdier stuff being a champion? It's only a bit of dirt."

"Very funny, Harry. Rachelle gifted me zis, she would cry and zen kill me if she saw what 'as 'appened to it."

Harry snorted. "Cleaning charm on the way out?"

"But ze smell will stay." Fleur muttered, "So zis is ze place?" She asked a little unimpressed, stepping forward to take in her surroundings.

The cellar was made of old grey stones built atop of each other. Thick cobwebs sat in every corner and hung low from the ceiling. The walls were lined claw marks made by the werewolf professor in his youth. Fleur went to examine them closer, her fingers tracing the recesses tenderly. She couldn't imagine how much pain he must have felt transforming. She wondered if full-blooded Veela hurt too during their transformations too. Given the ease she had witnessed her grandmother do it once, she guessed it became easier over time, it wasn't something she had thought to ask her about before.

"Come," Harry said breaking up her trail of thought, "up here."

He showed her upstairs to a large living room; full of old, shredded and broken furniture.

They could feel it as soon as they entered the room. A presence, a faint hunger thrumming from the decrepit cabinet on the far side of the room.

Harry recognised it immediately, without a doubt it had been the same boggart he had practised on for a year. He felt its magic brush against his senses, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. The creature must have recognised and sensed him too as it cracked the door open. It was eager.

After all the times he and Remus had battered and banished it, Harry silently hoped it wasn't holding a grudge like the willow.

"Are you ready? Stand behind me so it targets me first. Remember, like I told you, your happiest memory. The key is using the emotion behind it, ok?"

"Oui." She answered with confidence.

The ajar door widened further and Harry mentally prepared himself to feel a rush of cold. The temperature of the room remained the same. Instead, a small human hand pushed the door wide open, giving a long whining creek.

He felt his stomach plummet from the betrayal.

"Fuck." Harry whispered to himself.

The thing that had revealed itself was not a dementor. A boy with boney knees hugged by arms as thin as sticks. He had a thick messy tangle of black hair and sad green eyes, sore from crying framed by his broken glasses. He sat cowering inside his old cupboard surrounded by all the books he once used to escape.

Immediately Harry's vision narrowed, his whole being went numb. The room darkened as the young boy that had once been Harry crawled out.

Why? Why did it have to be you? Was all Harry could think, his wand in hand left forgotten.

"You forgot about us." The boggart spoke to him in parseltongue.

"You're not me and I haven't forgotten anything," Harry hissed back.

"Don't lie to us, we know."

When Harry finally raised his wand, the boggart scurried back towards the cupboard like a wounded animal.

"Don't hurt me, please. I'll be good. I won't ask questions. I swear." It whined.

Harry couldn't help but balk, bile rising up his throat. Forcing himself, he swallowed it down.

The boggart had watched his hesitation sneered. "See, weak. Look how pitiful you are."

"I'm not weak." He hated how broken he looked. How Dudley's old clothes full of holes hung off him. His eyes looking so empty and dead. "Ridikulus."

The spell flew from his wand like a blast of wind.

There was no loud crack, so he knew immediately it'd gone wrong. He had cast the spell on instinct, out of the sheer need to see it gone, but he hadn't thought of anything humorous.

The black sludge began to twist and warp into an unstable black ooze, reforming up from the ground. First, a pair of legs, followed by a complete Hogwarts uniform emblazoned with a Slytherin badge. In the pit of his stomach, Harry felt his dread rising up and for a moment he thought he'd be face to face with Riddle again.

The ooze settled. Instead of Tom, he was once more face to face with himself. It was of a similar age, perhaps a year or two slightly older. His hair, slicked back and wet, looked tidy for once. It had paler sallow skin and dark circles beneath its eyes identical to his own. In his eyes, sharp red veins crept from the corners. It stared through him with inhuman green snake-like pupils.

"This is much better." The boggart examined itself, its voice was soft and faint worming in his ears. It was so much like Tom's voice.

Harry's instincts were screaming at him to kill it. Strike it with lightning and burn it to ashes.

Tightening his grip on his wand a snarl escaped from him. He felt frustrated despite being focused and ready. Again he just couldn't picture anything funny.

He wondered if he put enough power behind an Incendio Maxima could he get a stream of fire as hot as dragon fire or would he just end up completely blowing up the Shreiking Shack? He knew he shouldn't. Fleur would probably fine but she was what felt like worlds away.

Even if he tried it would still be useless anyway. He knew boggarts were amortal. They were in the same family as dementors and lethifolds. It couldn't die and it wouldn't be driven away or dematerialise from summoning fire either no matter how strong. Amortal was different from immortal, these creatures weren't truly living things. But perhaps there was magic out there he hadn't learnt or heard of yet that could destroy them.

He had to remind himself he was here for Fleur. Not here for a trial against his own fears.

"Fleur, same plan. Don't interfere until you need to." He instructed clearly and calmly.

Then the boggart unexpectedly spoke again. "You know I'm really glad I got to meet you again, Harry." Hearing his warped voice saying his own name nearly threw him off guard. "Do you remember when I used to help you? Delicious despair almost week after week. I remember I'd never had such a fill until you. It was great! Now you are back I'm really happy to see you again."A hungry smile stretched across its face. "Your fears don't satiate me like others' do, diluted and unsatisfying as they are. Which is a shame, but I've never fed off someone who's magic is so potent before. Like one of those aged whiskeys Uncle Vernon drinks. What's your secret?"

Just when Harry thought he had enough surprises. Before it had just been a plain imitation, a caricature. But now with this shift, the boggart talked like it had actually achieved sentience. With memories, thoughts and feelings of its own.

Behind him, Fleur was calling out his name but he couldn't really hear her. He watched as if in a trance as his doppelganger pulled out its wand and point it at him.

"Expelliarmus."

The spell hit. It felt like a punch to his sternum. Even though it managed to surprise attack him, the boggart proved it was still far inferior to the original.

Harry's real holly and phoenix feather wand clattered and sparked angrily as it landed on the floor besides him. He knew if it'd been him, it'd had flown through the air he'd have caught it. Every wand on any day like it was nothing. So long as he didn't accidentally destroy first.

"What's the matter? Not feeling strong without your little magic stick?" The boggart gloated.

Harry just smiled back. "No, the opposite really. I was just thinking what a shit imitation you are, my skin isn't that pale and gross, my hair isn't so greasy either. Now, you can't even disarm me properly. To be honest, I'm disappointed."

The look of his own face looking gormless in surprise at his crude retort was enough to make him laugh out loud.

The boggart hissed angrily as if it were in pain and Harry's smile grew wider with a new realisation.

Fleur still needed a push, right now she was probably a little anxious and confused. She just needed a little motivation to act. He picked up his wand, pointed it at himself and cast a cheering charm strong enough to make Flitwick sing with praise. His smile grew wider each second. Elation bubbled within him ready to erupt like he had just downed an entire keg of butterbeer and was about to vomit all back up.

"I thought you might actually do some damage for a moment there. Ha! - us duelling? Me vs me? Haha! Could have been something interesting, but now I'm just so disappointed." He giggled. "You were actually scarier to me as a child. Hahaha!"

With that, he fell into a bout of uncontrollable laughter. As the hysterics spilled out of him, his copy writhed and howled in pain. The boggart's jaw unhinged as it wailed until the sound turned into an angry ear-splitting screech. Its eyes turned black and it revealed rows on rows of sharp teeth. It flew towards him and began to lose its form. Robes and skin melted together into a shapeless inky blob. Finally, the boggart slammed him into the ground with a force that made the entire shack quake.

With saliva dripping from its mouth, the boggart's breath rattled in Harry's face. Even inches away from having his face ripped off Harry remained calm and laughed some more. He probably sounded mad as he did but he didn't care. Yes, he was making it so the boggart was at its most dangerous, but also at its weakest and most vulnerable.

Time appeared to slow down for Harry. As he stared into the depths of its throat he was once more struck with a question, was he really brave or just stupid? He knew a hundred percent that he wasn't about to be killed by an abominable boggart of things. He had fought worse odds.

Any second now Fleur should save him. But it never once occurred to him to just not put himself in his current situation or even attempt to escape it. This was about as much as a lesson for her as it was a test for him now. Even if he had told himself otherwise.

Yes, he wanted to live. He had confirmed this fact many times. But he also never felt more alive than when he was half a step away from death. Wondering how close he could get to the edge, walking that fine line, what it might feel like if he ever went beyond, could he even go beyond it? Was it possible he was unkillable?

This isn't normal, is it?

He thought about Daphne, and what she had said about him and his false desire to be normal. When he thought about her he knew this had to stop. If one day one these stupid decisions he made on half baked theories proved wrong, that would be it no more Harry Potter, no more boy-who-lived. The last thing he'd told her was to basically go fuck her self. He felt angry at himself for that. He still had two tasks left, he couldn't let things end like that. He didn't want to be on the otherside and have any regrets. He had to at least kill Tom first.

There was a blinding white and something large and silver began attacking the boggart.

There it is. Harry felt relieved that his horrifying revelation had been so timely interrupted.

From the floor Harry became wide-eyed in awe, his laughter froze in his throat. Silver waves so bright and pure he was forced to squint. It was a bird all too familiar to him. Its incredible wingspan blinded him as much as it filled him with an incredible warmth. It trilled and cried beautifully as it pecked and clawed at the shapeless boggart, driving it back to its haunt while its long silvery tail danced behind.

Once it finished the bird began to sing. Light radiated off the patronus like pure joy - pure love. It hit Harry hard, he'd never known it could feel like that before. It filled him with a comforting sensation that was almost alien to him. It made the effects of his cheering charm feel all too fake and unnatural in comparison.

Tears stung his eyes for the first time in a long time. His eyes were burning. He couldn't help it as he tried to blink them back. In his head, all he knew was that he wanted to see Sirius. He didn't know what it was but he knew he was missing something important. The warmth pouring from the Pheonix was born from Fleur's memories. The love and happiness she'd been given in life was something he could barely comprehend. He could see it in his mind, how his silver stag would look probably look dull and ghostly compared to her bright Pheonix.

With one last look as her Patronus faded away, Harry felt himself grow incredibly cold. The cheering charm became just a small itch in his lungs. He breathed heavily on the floor until Fleur appeared above him and pulled him up.

She had been standing in shock despite herself, then she saw Harry on the floor like he had been petrified.

"'Arry are you 'urt?" She asked urgently, her soft hand held his face as she checked him over closely.

"No, I'm fine." Harry choked, Fleur must've thought he looked strange with his tears and wearing a broken smile. Inside he was dying a little, he felt really pitiful in such a state in front of her.

"Fleur, that was really brilliant." He said as he cancelled the charm and rubbed his eyes. "I knew you'd be able to do it. But a phoenix? That's really something else. You really are amazing."

He meant it too, he was happy for her. Mission accomplished.

"I zink we should go, non?" Fleur's cheeks turned the colour of roses but her eyes indicated they should go.

He couldn't agree more. Harry looked back at the cabinet that was the boggart's haunt. It shook furiously like it might burst out again.

"We're done here now anyway. It's badly wounded and needs time to recover, good job. I think I need a butterbeer, you?"

"Coffee for me." Fleur agreed, she put her arm around him comfortingly.

They left the way they came and took the long path down to Hogsmeade. The rain had started to come down heavier making the mud thicker and slippery. As he came down after cancelling the cheering charm, Harry felt encroaching shame and embarrassment of what Fleur must have thought about after seeing his boggart. He pushed those feelings down, they wouldn't do him any good.

"'Arry, what was zat thing? Ze mimic?"

"The boggart?"

"Oui,"

"A dark creature native to Britain - so you might not have learnt about them. They reflect our fears in order to feed on them, magic and if given the chance, people too. Last year mine was a dementor but as you see I'm over that now apparently. I didn't realise it had changed. I guess fighting a hundred dementors would cure that fear."

"And now you are more afraid of yourself?" Fleur asked, tilting her head. She couldn't bring herself to ask about the child.

"Looks like we both learned a lot today." Harry smiled and ran his hand through his hair, but underneath she could see he looked like he was troubled by something else. "It's still a dark creature so a Patronus does work against it - just not as effective as banishing it properly. That's why the patronus and boggart fought. With the boggart as a dementor, I planned to give you someone, i.e. me, to protect when casting. That's what helped me get it to corporealise. So, this was still technically a success."

Fleur noticed how he skipped over her question but nodded anyway.

At the time it scared her to death seeing him on the floor about to get mauled. How he didn't even look afraid or panicked in the least. It reminded her that despite his age he was a worthy rival to her. Perhaps that with his plan in mind for him to be 'rescued' by her, it made her wonder if she was even a worthy rival for him. Still, that belief in her that she would succeed made her feel incredibly happy as she swelled with pride.

"Can I ask what memory you used?" Harry couldn't stop himself from asking, he looked at her from the corner of his eye. He still couldn't get over how dominant and intoxicating that feeling had been. The renewed sense of loss had him feeling crushed.

"Zat is a private, 'Arry. But I will tell you zis, I used several of my most precious memories, not just one." Fleur replied.

Impressed, Harry nodded. It was a subtler kind of spell variation. He never thought to do that. He filed the idea away for later, pondering if that could be the secret to making a stronger patronus.

But if increasing the memories causes an increase in power won't the spell just become needlessly more taxing?

"It didn't take too much out of you, right? The first corporeal patronus can be a little draining. You'll be fine for the duelling bracket later won't you?"

Fleur definitely didn't look tired or fatigued, but she was older and magically more mature than he had been, not to mention he had time travelled that night and fought more dementors than a boggart. Maybe it wasn't the same circumstances but she was also a rightfully chosen champion, so it was likely that she was extremely strong by nature.

"Oui, I'll be fine, I 'ave ze whole afternoon to rest even if was tired, so it is no problem. I cast it on my first try today as you say, I am amazing, non? And you don't make a bad teacher either I think."

Harry laughed again, Fleur felt glad she had humoured him. With a lighter mood around them once more, they continued talking and soon arrived at the village.

Later that evening Harry sank himself deeper into the warm water of the bath. He came to really appreciate how relaxed it made him feel.

His day with Fleur had passed quickly without any incidents which was an even greater success in his book. They ate lunch at the Three Broomsticks, interrupted by Draco telling him he knew it was him who pranked Crabbe and Goyle. Harry denied it and Fleur scolded him so he left. Afterwards, they returned to the castle with a carriage ride. They parted ways her to go prepare before the duelling started and he for the library.

He only watched the duelling as far as supporting Fleur and watching her wipe the floor with Blaise, the remaining Durmstrang duellist and Draw with Selwyn. He slipped out early, as he couldn't afford to slack on practising his transfiguration.

And he had discovered he really enjoyed the tranquillity that could be found in the prefect's bathroom. He had a lot to process and this place helped him think.

Lazily, he raised his hand out of the water and examined his arm. His fingers were longer now, clawed and webbed. Water fell from his black scales, stretching from his back, to his shoulders and arms. They softened and paled around his torso where gills formed just beneath his ribs. If he conjured a mirror his reflection would show rows of sharp teeth and his green eyes large and snake-like.

These were only the first two parts of the transformation but also the most important ones to get right. The last was going to be the most painful, useful for the task but not essential for surviving underwater.

He closed his eyes and dove deeper into the bath and allowed himself to sink to the floor. He measured his breaths, carefully inhaling and exhaling, he accustomed himself to the strange sensation of water running across his gills. It was going to be almost too easy remaining underwater now, he thought and because it was transfiguration he could remain that way until his fail-safe activated.

He remained there lying there for a long time, for so long he stayed there that he couldn't hear the door open. Despite this, he sensed something wasn't right, that he was no longer alone.

His eyes flew open and he saw a dark figure above masked by the rippling surface of the water. Fear struck only for a second and that was all he was allowed. A flash of red shot him before he could act.

When Harry came to a chill caught him by surprise. He was still wet and naked, covered only by a towel to protect him and his bag propping up his head as a pillow. This was all on top of the spell circle he had used to transform still drawn on the floor.

"Fuck." He cursed as grabbed the wand that laid neatly beside him. He scrambled to his feet. As he did so he checked to make sure the glamorous covering of his scars were all still in place. Thankfully they had held up.

Can't let my fucking guard down anywhere. He berated himself.

His eyes swept the baths, landing on an individual he wasn't expecting.

"Awake finally?" She said cooly, Stephanie Selwyn's dispassionate blue eyes studied him as meticulously as he did her.

She sat by the taps, barely covered up by the floating clouds of bubbles as she applied a pink lotion to her hair. Harry would have never imagined actually meeting the head girl in this situation.

"No I thought I'd just stand here naked for fun, while still unconscious - after you stunned me."

He just had to get ambushed by her. Seeing her up close gave her a much different air. Or maybe it because she wasn't in uniform and looked like an uptight princess.

"My apologies, but imagine my surprise, when I came here for some privacy only to see some kind of creature lurking at the bottom of the bath. Low and behold when I levitated it out it turned into the boy-who-lived. Impressive feat."

The way she looked him up and down made him shiver.

"Yeah, obviously that's my bad for frightening you then." Harry glared at her.

She didn't seem to care that he was staring back or that she was naked in front of him.

No, she wanted to get some kind of reaction out of him. Harry was using all his willpower not to give her one. But he wouldn't look away out of embarrassment either, he wasn't going to turn down such a freely given gift. He was still a young healthy teenager after all.

He really couldn't blame Ollie for his infatuation. Selwyn was the kind of girl next door type Dudley liked to watch on the TV.

While Fleur was tall, willowy and otherworldly; her face was striking, sharp blue eyes, high cheekbones and narrow jaw. Daphne held a cold beauty, she was smaller but lithe and deceptively fragile looking. Stephanie's features were closer to Daphne's, not as delicate and with fuller lips. Her figure was womanly, longer legs, slim waist that drew the eye to the shape of her hips. And her skin had a healthy warm ivory tone that would also blush nicely.

And I bet she'd look incredible in a pair of jeans. Harry could easily imagine Daphne looking very similar in several years, only platinum blonde and paler.

"Well, I should get going," Harry said casually, realising his mind was going places it shouldn't.

"I think not. Get in the bath, we should talk a while." She commanded.

The way she talked she sounded a lot like Daphne too. Harry paused, mulling it over in his head.

"If I say no and just walk out?"

"If you really want to, but I'll just deduct points. One hundred and fifty should do it. Since you shouldn't really be here."

"Like I care about house points." Harry snorted.

"I hoped you wouldn't, instead I can simply put you in detention for a week instead. We will have time to talk then and I would also be forced to inform Professor Snape and McGonagall. To think you broke into the prefect's bathroom to peep on me, only I caught you red-handed. I think they will also feel the need to dish out additional appropriate punishments."

"Bullshit."

"My word against yours. I am head girl and you should not be in here. I am sure Professor Snape is in need of someone to thoroughly clean all of the first year's cauldrons."

She is actually blackmailing me.

"Fucking bitch." He muttered under his breath.

"Detention." She didn't smile, but her eyes told him how much she was enjoying this.

Like a cat playing with a mouse, he was a toy to torment. Harry was really beginning to hate how much she reminded him of Daphne. If she made good on her threat. With daily detentions he'd have a lot less time to practice his transfiguration, which was now vital. Especially with his final third transformation which was the most taxing and at the moment imperfect. As a rule, most magic became easier with practice. The whole transformation would be costly but with repeated practice he could make it more efficient, acclimatising his magic to the spell was a necessity. If things went badly in the lake he needed to have enough magic to fight without exhausting himself. That was the entire point of using transfiguration instead of maintaining multiple charms for an hour.

"Fine." But continued to stand there glaring. "Do you mind?"

Smiling, Stephanie lent back floating with the bubble and stared at him intently, "I already saw it. Fair is fair."

Nothing was ever freely given. As his eyes widened, wild magic caused the water to chop like the waves of an ocean.

"Yes, you are very scary, Potter." She said unfazed. "Now get in the bath and cool down like a good boy. I will turn around and promise not to look."

She turned her back to him, leaning over the edge and exposing her incredible back like she was provoking him. Harry, keeping hold of his wand resisted the temptation of stunning her in the back of the head. He gritted his teeth and plunged himself back into the hot steaming water.

"Is keeping your wand really necessary?" She asked after she turned back around.

"Remember that I was unconscious five minutes ago after a certain head girl stunned me while I was unarmed."

"Yes, well, that is in the past now. I'm not going to try a second time, am I?" Stephanie sighed with the roll of her eyes and swam over to him until she was closer than he was comfortable with. Harry was finally thankful for the thick fog of bubbles Stephanie had added to the bath.

"If it's all the same I'd prefer to keep it."

"Paranoid, Potter?"

"You could have been anyone and I don't want to be taken by surprise again."

"Suit yourself, you know a lot of boys would cut off their right hand to be where you are right now."

"If I cut off my right hand can I leave?"

"Try it and find out. So, who told you about this place? The current Gryffindor prefects are hardly your biggest fans."

"Cedric did."

"I see, that does make more sense. Hm, I shall have to have the password changed."

"Can you not wait a week at least? I still need this place."

Stephanie laughed at his blatant and honest question, "I supposed I could. If you indulge me."

Fine I can indulge all you want.

"I don't get it, I'm supposed to be left alone by you Slytherins. And the way I heard it you rule the snake pit? They're your rules."

"You're off-limits because anyone in our house who associates with you puts a target on their back. Tracey got ambushed last week but you wouldn't know that because she is smart and kept her mouth shut."

Harry felt his temper flare again. "Who?"

"I'm not naming names, Potter. I am sure she would appreciate a gallant gesture of you bringing her attacker to justice but you would only make things worse by starting a fight. I can't have that. If my dear little cousin gets wind of what happened to her best friend she would also kick up a storm. A very violent one at that, worse than whatever you could pull. Professor Snape expects me to maintain order. And you'd only make things worse for Tracey, anyone who'd want to provoke you in the future would go after her again. Is that what you want?"

Harry gritted his teeth. "No."

"Please allow me to deal with it. I think I know the identity of the perpetrator from the jinx used and I won't let them get away with it freely."

"Make sure you don't. So, I take its fine you're fine flaunting your own rules because we're closed doors?"

"Correct, I can't let a good opportunity go to waste. You are the Harry Potter, I think it only natural to want to have at least one conversation with you while I am still at this school."

"Anyone else exempt other than you?"

"If you miss having friends in our house you're free to socialise with Draco and Blaise. They are your classmates, Draco is your co-champion and Blaise is putting up a good show in the duelling tournament. He passed his second bracket and made it to the semi-finals, in case you were wondering."

"So onto the knockout stages for you both. Congratulations." He said in a dull voice and clapped his hands slowly. That wasn't exactly the answer he was hoping for.

"I never said anything about myself." She smiled.

"You didn't need to, there's no way you're not getting into the final."

"And who am I facing in the final?"

"Fleur, Blaise has skill and finesse but still lacks experience. Fleur is a powerhouse, has the skill, finesse and experience to easily beat Blaise, you will beat whoever the leftover from tonight was. The finals will see you two face each other."

"And who wins?"

"No clue, I'm not a seer and I was shit at divination."

"But you are certain about everything else?"

Harry shrugged. "I've sparred with Fleur when I was preparing for King. I know what she can do. And I've watched Blaise. You though, you are harder to gauge, tricky - fun to watch and not too showy. Fluidity and counters, maintain a fast pace and nothing too elaborate for efficiency. Dodging and deflections over shields and obscure but simple spells like your phasing bludgeoner. I bet you're still hiding your best stuff."

Stephanie laughed."How do you have such an accurate read on me?"

"I watched you duel? Since the first time, seeing you made an impression on me. I based my style off yours." Harry shrugged, he wasn't lying.

"You know I am rather flattered. You mentioned you sparred with Delacour, if you like would you agree to let me train you? You clearly have a passion for duelling, I think I could teach you a lot."

Fleur had also asked him that afternoon if he wanted to continue with their sparring once the second task was over. Was it his crazy luck again that the two best beautiful duelists would offer him their guidance?

"Why?" Harry asked, suspicious.

"I thought Daphne had made it clear to you? Not all Slytherins grew up with parents that were either death eaters or their sideline supporters. My father is the latter by the way didn't actually join up, truth be told, but not my mother. Her side of the family has close ties to the Greengrass'. They are even more old school, believing blood is sacred and that all magic is a gift. There are plenty of normal children in Slytherin who are ignorant why these ideas are important or dangerous. They know to stay quiet and out of trouble. It's only those that scream the loudest that are the most heard."

"Like Malfoy."

"Precisely, and he certainly received his portion of humble pie, hasn't he?"

"If you learnt to shut them up things probably would be quieter."

"Possibly, though we better leave that to you Gryffindors. If we in our house alienate them we force them to be quiet; they might still harbour their beliefs and try to share them more subtly. Which could prove to be even more dangerous."

"So you prefer them to be out in the open so you can keep your eye on them and warn the others keep a wide berth?"

"Yes, you would have doen well with us, Potter. Better than you are currently doing in Gryffindor at any rate." She gave him a wink.

"I had a good start but I burnt out fast. Winning the tounament might smooth things over I suppose. But don't think just because you act all nice and flutter your eyelashes I'll do what you want."

"Gosh, you are stubborn, I am not trying to trick you. I am genuinely just offering you some help, you shouldn't bite every hand offered to you when you can't tell friend from foe. But you know, I can see why she is rather taken with you."

Harry felt his stomach twist and flip. "Daphne?"

"Who else?"

"Only every other girl who's knickers I get wet. She talks to you then?"

"We are family but yes we have been talking quite often lately."

"And she talks about me?" Harry shoved away the embarrassment of not being able to stop himself from asking.

"A little."

He felt relief and happiness settle him. "Do you know what it is she wants from me?"

"I should think so, she wants you to win the tournament so she can win the school's deadpool."

"Deadpool?"

"The school wide bet on when you and Malfoy will die."

Harry tried to ignore his anger bubbling. "There are bets on us? Wait that's what Fred and George are doing."

"Best keep that quiet, Potter, they're working for me and have been since last year, last years quidditch cup was something of a test run. Without those two I'd struggle tapping into your house of lions."

"I did wonder how they were making money. I take it my odd aren't great then."

"Not to start with, they changed for the better after you tamed a dragon with parsletongue. And Daphne was very confident from the start, before that even happened. She was the only person in school to bet on you actually winning in the first round of betting."

"So that's it, I'm her bet." He breathed out heavily trying to calm himself. Still, he felt hot anger swirl in the pit of his stomach.

Stephanie caught onto it immediately and splashed him with water.

"Don't think like that, you don't know the whole story. She practically staked her future on it."

"Explain. Pretend I'm stupid."

Stephanie scolded his attitude with another splash of water. "If you lose, when she comes of age she'll be sold."

"Sold as in..."

"Arranged marriage." Stephanie nodded. "Right now by her father's good grace she can maintain autonomy by not marrying and inheriting the family company and become the head of house. As an heiress a dynastic marriage has always been a real possibility. She's had her foot down on ever receiving marriage offers for a while now and her father has so far respected her wishes. But he only has daughters and there needs to be an heir eventually. In our circles, thirteen is usually around the earliest age at which proposals can be made. Then by tradition, once we are of age we debut in public. Anytime after that our heads of house will decide whom we'll marry, some families are leanient but some are strict and uncompromising." Stephanie had a dark look in her eye.

"That's disgusting."

"That's society, Harry. We are a little behind the times as your muggleborns are so often fond of reminding us."

Harry almost suspected that she sounded jealous. "So, if me and Draco win, what does she get out of it?"

"She gets a lot of gold. Her own gold - independent of her father. But that isn't what she was actually after, she has a side bet with a boy in our house who is pursuing her. Should she win she gets to be me and have the highest authority in Slytherin for the next three years - its a house tradition. How that will work out I don't know, no ones tried it before. There is only power there while people believe it exists. She can sit at the table but it will be all up to her to keep herself there and make people follow her. But she has the pedigree, the money, a mean streak and the strength to enforce her will, so I suspect she will manage just fine."

Harry found himself fighting a grin. Fucking typical.

"If you lose, she loses and those gates open and they can't be closed again. Daphne will ultimately have someone chosen for her by her father. Could be some old widowed politician looking for fresh meat to empty his shrivelled balls into. Or a cruel, rich and ambitious prick that likes to dominate and break proud pureblood girls like her. She is a prize, beautiful and a business empire attached. All kinds of men will want to get their hands on her. The bride price will be substantial but what will be important is that it is someone who can provide an heir and be competant enough to not destroy his family's generations of work. But if I was a betting woman, which I am not, I prefer the role of book keeper, I would imagine Antares has already planned for this in advance. He'll have a distant cousin with noble Greengrass blood waiting in the wings somewhere I am sure. 'Keep it in the family' might aswell be the motto of the sacred twenty eight. "

Harry didn't know what she meant by sacred twenty-eight but he could make an educational guess it refered to the pureblood elite.

Stephanie yawned, not mentioning the decision of the final say would ultimately end in a battle of wills between Daphne and her Father. And when it came to her father she would likely fold.

Harry shook his head in disbeleif. He pushed the image of Daphne being handed to some stranger out of his mind. "That's insane, why would she do this to herself?"

"She is a little crazy," Stephanie admitted. "But more than that, she has the utmost faith in you. So it is up to you to save her from the fate she has made for herself. Don't disappoint her."

"She made that decision herself and never thought to tell me about it." Harry bit back.

"I wouldn't say she never thought to. Consider this, perhaps she didn't want to put any more pressure on you?"

"But you're fine with doing that?"

"I suspect you perform better under pressure. You have more incentive to win now, do you not? Now there is a girl that desperately needs saving from a terrible future." Stephanie smiled knowingly.

"You've got to be taking the piss."

He looked back at Stephanie, his suspicious mind wondered if her being here was even happenstance at all. Daphne had her map in her grimoire and knew how to plot him, and he'd been here regularly enough to fit a predictable pattern.

He cursed under his breath.

"I know what you are thinking. No, I'm not here on her behalf to give you this information. She'd prefer it if you and I never interacted at all."

"Sorry but I'm not just going to take your word for it."

"Suit yourself. Enough about that, as much as I care for my little cousin I can't but help feel like our time is wasted talking about her."

Harry felt a painful pang in his chest, he wanted nothing more than to hear more about her. As much as she infuriated him, he still wanted to feel closer to her somehow. He respectfully didn't pry with Tracey because he liked her and wanted to be her friend, but a family member like Steph was too good a source of information.

"What I would like to know is how you managed to piss Lewis King off so royally."

There was of course more than one way to get more familiar with the head girl, indulge her in conversation and accept her kind offer of tutelage.

Harry slipped into an easy smile. "That is a funny story actually,"

---

AN - Hey again, welcome back. Only I could go through this pandemic lockdown shit and still find time to skive away from writing and updating. But I have been chugging along at my own pace as always though and here we are.

Right yes, this chapter. First off a homage to Kafka in the beginning, as it also fit with the chapter title. Because I figured with Rita being a beetle it just had to happen. It was too good not to. I did basically just rewrite the first scene the Metamorphosis so I'm debating deleting it. But then again this is also fanfiction so where do you really draw the line with that? Can someone validate me? And y'know the whole chapter is basically about transformations so... A bit too on the nose maybe?

And I am also yet again wondering why I have to revolve my story so much about one character who isn't Harry. My bad probably won't stop either. At least we have Tracey! And Fleur! (god I love writing Tracey and Fleur) And now Pansy too? She's cool I guess, I gave her bit more backstory and my reason to why she hung off Draco in canon. I had been leading up to this scene with Stephanie for a while, god knows I name-dropped her enough. I'm doing more with them than I am with Draco atm. Oops. So be ready for some more Draco next time... whenever that eventually is.

Anyway, I hope you've all been good and thanks for coming back and those reading this far. And I hope you look forward to what comes next as that will no doubt be the second task.

Review/pm if you like, feedback is always great to have!