Notes: I sincerely apologize for how long this has taken, but the past few months have been ... difficult to say the least. In short, my creativity has been sucked dry, and now only comes in short spurts, so I'm working on this whenever I have a brief flash of it. This is by no means abandoned, but please do not expect for there to be any scheduled updates. At this point, I'm simply at the whims of my muses. Yes, I have a plan for this story, but an outline is nothing to the creative flow that they provide. But enough about that. I hope you enjoy the next part of this story.

Chapter 2: Peculiarities

Gryffindor colors may be red and gold, but Harry would be happy if he never had to look at the latter color ever again at this point. He stared sullenly at the golden egg resting at the end of his bed, the desire to kick it across the room itching at his mind, save for the fact he didn't want to risk breaking a toe, or Merlin forbid, popping the egg open.

To think gold was supposed to be the color of treasure. After all, the golden egg was the end goal for the champions during the First Task, their prize (and later discovered) key to the next task. But instead of riches, it only gave Harry a headache, not only from trying to figure out the puzzle that lay within, but also from the banshee-like screeching that sounded every time he opened the blasted thing. He'd been wracking his brain for over a week now trying to crack the egg's secret.

His victory was well celebrated in Gryffindor Tower the evening after he'd squared off against the dragon. Those in the lion's den did their best to give a new definition to the word 'party.' Fred and George had raided the kitchens, grabbing plenty of food, treats, and flagons of pumpkin juice and butterbeer. Filibuster's Fireworks filled the air, letting off stars and sparks. Dean Thomas had even drawn up some banners, depicting Harry and the Horntail flying through the air. He was cheered, the pride of Gryffindor once more.

It was a stark contrast to the reception he'd received for weeks prior to the task. It was almost jarring to go from Hogwarts Most Hated to once again being loved and adored. Yet at the same time, Harry wasn't terribly surprised. After second year, he supposed he was used to the mental and emotional whiplash from the fickle student body.

The evening was filled with laughter and revelry, until someone asked Harry to open the egg. Others added their encouragement to the suggestion, although Hermione mildly protested, saying he needed to figure it out on his own. But so far in the competition, none of the champions had fully played by the rules, so why should he? What could it hurt?

The answer turned out to be the eardrums of everyone in the common room as an ungodly screech filled the air, prompting him to quickly shut it again, even without Fred bellowing at him to do it.

Every time since then, that awful sound greeted him whenever he opened the egg. It never changed. Just incessant screaming. Harry was quick to toss out the suggestion at his celebration party that the screaming meant he was to be tortured. After all, that wasn't much of a clue, it would probably be too straight forward, and he would have hoped the organizers of the competition wouldn't stoop to the level of actually including torture. Although he did just have to outfly a dragon…

And that brought up a different, and rather uncomfortable train of thought for Harry. While that particular skill had been in his wheelhouse, if it wasn't for Hagrid showing him the dragons in the first place, or for Professor Moody giving him the idea to use his Firebolt as a strategy, Harry was fairly certain he would not have come out of facing the dragon relatively unscathed. If he was being honest with himself, he wasn't sure he would have been able to get the egg at all.

He had quickly realized the reason why this tournament was meant to have of-age witches and wizards as competitors, and why it had been originally banned centuries ago. Harry, while he had a ridiculous amount of luck (both good and bad) and his skill on a broomstick, did not have the magical knowledge necessary to safely make it through this tournament on his own. He wasn't sure how his name was entered into the cup, or even why or who did it, but if it was to get him killed during one of the three tasks, Harry would be damned if he made it easy for them.

That meant he had to do one thing he hadn't taken as seriously as he should over the last three years: study.

So, two days after the First Task, Ron (whose friendship had quickly rekindled after realizing there was no way Harry would have been barmy enough to have entered his own name into the tournament) had been shocked when Harry had turned down his invitation to play a game of Exploding Snap the evening after classes in lieu of going to the library to research whatever the hell the egg could be hinting at.

"But the Second Task is months away in February! You have plenty of time!" the red head sputtered. Hermione, on the other hand, appeared pleasantly surprised and instead encouraged Harry's new mindset.

"It's better to start earlier rather than later, Ron. I'd think you realize that after the dragon." She turned her attention over to Harry, an eyebrow raised in curiosity. "Do you have any idea what you're looking for yet?"

"I'm not sure," he said with a shake of his head. "There's one possible topic I'm going to look up, and if that's not the answer, then maybe it'll instead lead to a different idea."

That 'topic' was a banshee. It was the only thing he could think of besides a mandrake with a piercing scream. He knew what a mandrake's cry sounded like, and it certainly wasn't what was coming from the egg. But after spending the evening and next morning during a break in classes researching banshees, he was growing certain he could cross that off of the list as well. A banshee cry was more wailing and grief filled, while whatever was screaming from the egg sounded more like the souls of the damned. He also noted the screams sounded from several creatures or beings, instead of one. Banshees were singular creatures, preferring to live alone.

But that did lead down the proverbial rabbit hole of 'creatures with screams or shrieks of note that live or move in groups.' Harry had poured over books with sections on Strix, Drekavac, Wendigo, Tiyanak and other similar beings for several days after that in his spare time. However, besides gaining a fair bit of knowledge on magical creatures, he realized that none of these quite fit as a solution.

"So, I'm looking for a group of creatures that shriek, more than likely the same species. And if all I'm hearing from the egg are shrieks and screams, then that's probably their main way of communicating, or at least as far as the wizarding community is concerned." Harry's mutterings were only broken by the scratching of his quill against parchment as he wrote down his notes, and crossed out creatures he'd already researched.

Ron had been correct about one thing. He still had plenty of time to figure out the riddle. But that was only half of the battle, because after he figured out what the clue was, he then needed to determine how to deal with whatever the clue was hinting at. Not to mention also keep up with his classes and regular homework.

That left him currently glaring at the egg on his comforter while he rested against his pillow, still refusing to give into the urge to kick the blasted thing.

'No point dwelling on it for now,' he eventually decided with a heavy sigh. 'I'm just going in circles.' Harry picked up his wand and went through the movements to cast a tempus charm, realizing he had about 20 minutes until the start of Care of Magical Creatures. 'Best to get a move on then.' Harry stood up from the bed with a quick stretch and smoothed out the slightly ruffled sheets. Before moving to grab his books and head out the door, he cast one last pointed look at the egg. "I'll deal with you later," he muttered in a way as if the threat would force the egg to give up its secret. No such luck.

Harry quickly made his way down the stairs into the common room, pausing just long enough for Hermione and Ron to join him before heading out of the portrait hold.

"Any luck?" asked Hermione as they walked down the stairs.

"No," Harry sighed, fighting the urge to add a whining tone. Hermione looked on sympathetically, fully understanding the irritation at not knowing something.

"Well, keep at it, you'll figure it out eventually," she encouraged.

"You sure it isn't a banshee? Bloody sure sounds like it," added Ron.

"I'm certain," he nodded, stopping to wait for the stairs to change before continuing on again. "The screeching from the egg has different tones. There's more than one creature. That can't be a banshee. And it's not several other things I've looked up either."

"Think outside of the box then," suggested Hermione.

"What do you mean? You'd think things with an ear splitting screech that would make a mandrake proud wouldn't be common."

"You're right. However, you've already looked at the obvious suspects, right? What about the not so obvious ones? Maybe it doesn't screech all the time or even most of the time."

"You know, that's more terrifying, because why in the hell would something scream like that unless it's - er, they - are attacking something?"

Hermione sighed and shook her head. "You don't know if it's the sound of something attacking."

"And you don't know if it isn't," replied Harry.

Hermione didn't respond after that.

The group made their way down the rest of the stairs, through the front hall, out the door, and across the chilly grounds to Hagrid's cabin. While Harry remained silent for the entire trek, Hermione's suggestion kept replaying through his head. What if it didn't screech all the time? What if that was only a sound used in certain situations? But that opened up even more possibilities, and he was hoping to narrow suggestions down, not increase the list.

Harry exhaled heavily through his nose in mild frustration. Narrowing down this creature, if that's what it even was, was going to be tough.

"Wait a minute,' he nearly stopped walking in realization. 'I'm going to Care of Magical Creatures class. Hagrid might know of creatures that would fit this criteria.'

While Harry was determined to dive more into his studies this year, he also wasn't against using sources to his advantage. It wasn't as if he was asking Hagrid what creature made the screeching sound that was coming from the egg. No, he was asking for creatures that moved or lived in groups and made the blasted sound.

Although at the same time, a small, growing part of him loathed to ask anyone at all, wanting to do this all on his own, almost as if it were a point of pride. But pride could get a person hurt, or worse (especially in this tournament) killed.

Harry was still debating on whether or not he should ask his friend when the hefty fumes of single-malt whiskey hit him like a bludger. It was the choice drink for Madame Maxime's horses, and the giant equines were crowded around a large trough at the far end of the paddock they were approaching. The smell of the liquor was enough to make the entire class lightheaded, which was a problem considering they were still tending to the Blast-Ended Skrewts. Having one's mind wander while around the creatures wasn't a smart thing if you were trying to avoid getting burned.

Harry liked Hagrid, he really did. However he was always concerned about his large friend's judgement (or lack thereof) when it came to his choice of animals for lessons. The skrewts made the top of the list in Harry's 'What was Hagrid Thinking' category. Only ten of the creatures remained in the now nearly frozen pumpkin patch next to the paddock, the others killed by the survivors. Each one was now nearly six feet long, their powerful, scuttling legs easily carrying around their thick, gray armored bodies. Their stingers, suckers and fire-blasting ends, combined with their size and aggression made them an annoyance at best and Hospital Wing visit waiting to happen at worst.

As he surveyed the small number of skrewts, a shiver ran through him. But this time,it wasn't because of the repulsive crustacean-like creatures (although they were shiver inducing). No, it was something else, like a sharp tingle down the spine instead of muscles simply contracting. He'd felt it before, just after the First Task. He'd thought at the time it was leftover adrenaline in his system. But what would cause it now?

Something inside of him was yelling at him to look up and watch out. So he did.

His emerald eyes left the skrewts and instead surveyed the surrounding area before him, much like how he would have scoured the Quidditch pitch for the Snitch. But once again, just like after the First Task, there was nothing out of the ordinary. Just the class of students who were also warily observing the skrewts, the large horses on the far end of the paddock, and Hagrid carrying out several large boxes that appeared to be lined with pillows and fluffy blankets. There was nothing that would scream danger that he wasn't already aware of.

Another sharp tingle down the spine, and it was only his sheer force of will that kept it from reverberating down his limbs, and thus drawing the attention of his friends. This time, his instincts were drawing him to the Forbidden Forest just beyond the paddock.

Harry leaned against one of the wooden posts of the pumpkin patch fence before him, propping his arms against the wood to appear as if he was casually watching the skrewts scuttle about. He didn't want Ron and Hermione to notice that something may be wrong, not yet. He scanned the treeline of the forest, searching for whatever was triggering his paranoia. The trees beyond stood stoically, their branches devoid of leaves as winter had already taken their foliage from them. They creaked slightly in the wind, the breeze picking up the natural debris that lay at the foot of the trunks and making it dance and swirl. He noticed a few birds gripping the limbs here and there, but that was normal. In fact, he couldn't find anything abnormal about the treeline, but that didn't mean there wasn't something deeper in the forest that he couldn't see. Harry was quite familiar with some of the denizens that lay deep in the wooded area, some that he'd rather never see again.

The tingling stopped, but Harry didn't. Something had caught his attention, and he was determined to figure out what that 'something' was. If there was one thing he'd learned to listen to, it was his instincts. He was still searching the treeline when he heard Hagrid say something about 'hibernation' and 'settling down in the boxes.' Harry finally tore his eyes away from the treeline to see what the half giant was talking about, his stomach partially dropping in realization.

"We'll jus' lead 'em in here," Hagrid said, "an' put the lids on, and we'll see what happens."

'This is going to go well,' Harry thought sarcastically as he climbed into the paddock, the others cautiously following suit. He'd worry about the thing in the Forbidden Forest later. Right now, he was determined to not get burned by the skrewts in front of him.

Unfortunately for the entire class, it turned out the skrewts didn't hibernate. In fact, they had no intention of going inside the boxes, and displayed their displeasure for all to see. It only took a matter of seconds for the skrewts to destroy the boxes in fiery fashion and to rampage across the pumpkin patch. Hagrid yelled for the class to not panic, but that's exactly what they did. Pandemonium broke out amongst the class, with many escaping to Hagrid's cabin. Only a small number of students, including Harry, Ron and Hermione, remained outside to help wrangle the agitated creatures.

"We need to tie 'em up!" yelled Hagrid as he dodged a blast.

"Right," muttered Harry. It wasn't the first time he bemoaned his lack of height, noting the size difference between himself and the skrewts. That was going to be easier said than done. He figured his reflexes would be able to keep him from being burnt or cut. However, something peculiar happened.

As he stared down one of the angry skrewts, if he didn't know any better, he could have sworn it seemed as if it didn't want to attack him. Around him he could hear the yelps of his classmates as they unsuccessfully tried to dodge the blasts of the creatures' namesake, but this one just stared at him in what could only be described as confusion. Harry stared back, the feeling mutual. He took a tentative step towards the skrewt. To his surprise, it lowered its stinger.

'What in Merlin's name?'

If he had tried this a few months ago, he was certain the skrewt would have attacked him. But now it seemed it had no plans of the sort. It simply chittered at him, no evidence that it was prepared to send a fiery blast at him in sight.

"Hey there, I'm not going to hurt you," he said quietly to the creature as he slowly continued forward, his right hand raised slightly in a placating nature while his left was ready to grab his wand if need be. The skrewt may appear to be docile towards him at the moment, but he wasn't about to let his guard down.

The skrewt allowed him to approach, its stinger now fully relaxed. Harry wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He caught Hagrid in his peripheral gathering rope to tie up the skrewt that appeared to be calmed by Harry's presence. He kept the creature preoccupied as he moved toward it as Hagrid approached from a different angle, the skrewt either oblivious to the half-giant's presence, or perhaps he simply didn't care. Either way, it was a shockingly simple matter to secure the skrewt.

"It seems to like ya, Harry," Hagrid commented as he finished tying the rope around the calm creature. "Good job."

"What are you, the Skrewt Whisperer?" asked Ron from nearby with an incredulous look. His winter cloak was dirty after taking a dive to the ground to avoid an earlier blast, but other than that, he'd avoided injury so far.

"I have no idea," Harry was equally perplexed at what had just happened. He was still repulsed by the skrewts, but he was certain that if he wanted to, the creature before him would have let him pet it.

"Well, could you give me a hand with this one?" griped Ron. "I'd rather not end up in the Hospital Wing today, thank you very much."

"Right, sure," Harry said absently, very much confused. Why would the skrewt be so calm towards him to allow him to approach? Perhaps it was just that particular skrewt that was acting funny.

But it turns out that wasn't exactly the case. It appeared as if the creatures were much more willing to allow Harry to get near them than any of his classmates, or even Hagrid. While not all of the skrewts were as docile as the first one he dealt with, they at least didn't go out of their way to attack him. Instead, they'd back away or simply avoid him. Either way, it didn't take too much longer to finish wrangling the skrewts with Harry's help, much to the appreciation of his classmates.

"I don't know how you did it mate," said Ron after the last skrewt was tied.

"Yes, how did you do that?" asked Hermione, looking inquisitively between Harry and the tied up skrewts. She didn't look too much worse for wear, only a few minor cuts on her hands. "It couldn't have been a soothing charm, not with their armor."

"Honestly, I have no idea," muttered Harry.

"Must be another one of Harry's amazing talents," said a voice from outside of the pumpkin patch.

The group whipped their heads over to the newcomer, only to discover it was none other than Rita Skeeter herself. The woman was leaning on Hagrid's garden fence, wearing a thick, magenta cloak with a furry, purple collar and her crocodile-skin handbag was over her arm.

"Who're you?" asked Hagrid as he finished placing all of the skrewts together.

"Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet reporter," she beamed.

"Thought Dumbldeore said you weren't allowed inside the school anymore," said Hagrid with a frown.

Rita ignored him, changing her focus to her favorite topic, Harry.

"Didn't know you were so good with creatures, Harry. Then again, you were able to outsmart a dragon. Tell me, where did you learn such an interesting skill?"

"I only have two words for you," Harry frostily replied, knowing that anything he said to her would be twisted more than the corkscrews he pulled off while flying on a broom. "No comment."

"Now Harry, surely you don't mean that," she replied, her hand itching to dig into her purse for her Quick-Quotes Quill.

"No. Comment."

"Well then," she turned her eyes from Harry over to Hagrid, "what are these fascinating creatures called?"

"They're -"

"Hagrid, don't answer a single question she asks," said Harry, knowing any word his friend said would only land him in trouble down the road. It wouldn't surprise him if Blast-Ended Skrewts were highly illegal. "After all, she's not allowed inside the school anymore, right?"

"But we're not inside the school," she countered, her lips twitching slightly as she tried to hold her smile. "We're outside on the grounds. And isn't this a professor who has the ability to make up his own mind instead of listening to his students?"

"But this is still a classroom," Hermione stepped in, coming to Harry's aid. "Which counts as being inside the school."

"Right," nodded Hagrid, following their lead. "I'm sorry, bu' you'll have to leave. If you don', we'll have to take a trip to see Professor Dumbledore."

Rita's smile briefly fell before she tried another tactic. "I was hoping to have an interview with you. I'd love to hear some of your experiences with magical creatures. The Prophet does a zoological column every Wednesday, as I'm sure you know. We could features these creatures."

"Well -"

"Professor Hagrid," Hermione warned, giving him a sharp look.

"Right," he replied quickly. "Let's go see Professor Dumbledore."

"That won't be necessary," Rita raised her hands in front of her. "Perhaps some other time then? Hmm?" She beamed another smile at the group before taking a step back and turning around to leave. "I'll see you around, Harry!" she called over her shoulder.

"What an utterly vile woman," Hermione murmured as she left. Harry couldn't help but nod in agreement.

"I'm sorry Hagrid, but she's caused nothing but trouble for me. She'll do the same for you, too. Be careful around her, and don't listen to a word she says."

"It's alrigh' Harry. Thanks," Hagrid nodded in reply as the bell rang up at the castle, signaling the end of the lesson.

Harry grabbed his things and waited for Ron and Hermione to do the same before setting back off towards the castle and his Divination class. However, he only made it a few steps before he felt that spine-tingling shiver once again.

This time, he whipped around, determined to catch whatever it was that caused that reaction in the act.

The only thing he caught was a flash of gold eyes and a streak of silver fur before it disappeared into the treeline.

"Harry, what is it?" asked Hermione. Both she and Ron stopped as soon as their friend whipped around.

Harry furrowed his brow together as he tried to puzzle together exactly what he saw. "I'm not sure," he replied. "But I could have sworn I saw something watching us from the trees."

"Maybe it was one of the centaurs," said Ron.

"Maybe ..." Harry trailed off, fairly certain that it wasn't that. But without more details, he wasn't about to try and correct Ron. Besides, he already had one creature that he needed to figure out, and that one was much more important at the moment.

He turned back around and continued his trek back towards the castle with his friends, not noticing the pair golden eyes studying him thoughtfully from beyond the trees.