Chapter 11

"Fancy meeting you here."

Harry looked up from the tome he was reading. Hermione stood there, her hand clasped with Ron's. He felt some indignation from Tashaneri's 'corner'.

"Indeed." And he went back to reading on curses.

Hermione gave a huff. Ron gave her a reassuring look and cleared his throat.

"Harry mate, let's go do something fun!" he suggested. "You've been here since the start of the term!"

And he had. Since school had started, Harry had holed himself up in the library, often skipping classes to do so and staying right until curfew. The only class he ever really went to was Snape's DADA. Harry occasionally went to Potions with the new professor Slughorn, but only when they were brewing something useful to him, such as healing potions.

Harry's actions as of late had many of the faculty concerned, especially Professor McGonagall. Harry had also turned down the position of Quiddich Captain for Gryffindor, which had her miffed until he told her he would quit playing Quiddich altogether. The poor woman almost had a heart attack. When asked why he was quitting his favorite sport, Harry merely said, "I have more important things to worry about."

Many professors had tried to give him detentions, which he never went to. They would always find him in the library, reading some book on curses. Madame Pince had even given up trying to kick Harry out, and instead reluctantly given him a key to the Restricted Section. No way was she going to anger the boy who destroyed and rebuilt a piece of Hogwarts!

Harry's friends had been recruited to aid in the effort of bringing him back to society. Hermione and Ron tried every night. All upon the words of the headmaster of course.

Harry either waved them off, telling the couple to enjoy time with themselves, since he was busy. He wasn't overly rude, but he wasn't polite about it either. As much as he rather, sort of, maybe missed his friends, he preferred Tashaneri's company far more.

Harry didn't quite know it, but he was isolating himself from the world. Every morning he would wake up at 5AM and go for a run around the Black Lake. After running six miles, he would stretch out a bit and perform some katas with his sword, which would take around an hour. The professors had tried to confiscate his sword, but one icy look made them never think about it again.

After his katas, Harry would go up to the Room of Requirement and wish for an exercise room. For the next hour he would work out and lift weights. Then, he would finally return to his dormitory, shower and get dressed before heading down to breakfast before his dorm mates would even wake up.

Harry would eat a healthy breakfast before consulting his schedule. If neither DADA or Potions was on the list for the day, he would head straight to the library for twelve hours. Some days, he would shave off the last three or four hours and opt to go back outside and train some more. This was usually met with a crowd of students and professors watching him move.

Harry would be in the midst of a beautiful kata, his body moving gracefully when he would abruptly stop, and turn to see the crowd. That was when the show would be over, and Harry would retreat to the RoR, so he could continue in solitude. He would never see the looks of awe and fascination as he left.

Keeping company with Tashaneri was more enjoyable than he thought. They always had something to talk about, whether it be about the war, or unimportant things such as whether Blood Lollies were actually made of blood. Tashaneri had gained a little more control over Harry's body when they 'swapped', and could now move just as much as he could.

Sometimes, she would gain complete control for mere seconds, and Harry's body would morph, but then she would lose it after. They were both very excited with the new development and dedicated an hour each night to the swap.

Ever since the capture of Draco Malfoy, Snape had been vying for Bastard of the Year. In class, he would demean and insult Harry as much as he could, but to his disappointment, Harry either ignored him, or just blinked before blasting his opponent of the day (usually a Slytherin) into a wall with just a flick of his wand. Snape looked to be getting more and more short tempered, and pretty much put Gryffindor in the negative concerning house points. All of the points taken off were of course Harry's fault, but they were ridiculous, such as "beating your opponent too fast" or "drawing your wand too slow". Harry ignored such trivial things. There were more important matters than house points.

His house mates disagreed with him. They completely blamed Harry for the lack of house points, and made sure to tell him whenever they could. He ignored them of course, opting to have a mental conversation with Tashaneri on the subject of retarded people. He was quickly becoming shunned within his own house, but still, Harry didn't care. It was as if he had become an enigma over the summer. No one knew what he had been up to, and no one bar Dumbledore dared to ask.

"Harry come on, it's Hogsmeade weekend!" Hermione pleaded. "Won't you come with us?"

"Three's company," Harry replied, turning a page.

"We don't mind," Ron replied, although it sounded as if he would.

Harry mulled it over. There were some things he needed at Hogsmeade, maybe he'd go. He could lose the gruesome twosome quickly enough. "If I go, promise me you won't bug me then."

"Deal!" Hermione said excitedly, grabbing Harry's arm. "Come on, let's go!"

A bright flash caused her to release her grip on Harry's arm, and she covered her eyes. When she saw the light fade away, she brought her arms down and managed a tiny squeak.

Harry was now dressed in what appeared to be a white tuxedo of some sorts. It was very fancy looking, and came complete with a ¾ length jacket. Hermione deduced that he had used a switching spell to get changed. His sword was strapped to his waist with several belts. His hair was styled neatly as usual, this time looking to have been brushed up and over, keeping his bangs from falling into his face and making his hair look like many fins raking backwards. He looked incredibly handsome, especially with his mother's features, which – although slightly feminine – added to it.

Another flash, and his money bag was summoned. "Let's go then."

The three made their way out of the Entrance Hall, where Filch's beady eyes watched their every movement as they left. Harry stepped onto one of the last carriages left and his friends quickly joined him.

Harry occupied one side of the carriage, while Ron and Hermione cuddled up on the other side. He merely looked out the window as the carriage made its way down to Hogsmeade.

So, potion ingredients huh? Tashaneri asked.

Yup, Harry replied. There's a ritual potion I want to try out.

Is it dangerous or Dark? Tashaneri asked cautiously.

Yes to both.

"So… You've been in the library an awful lot lately," Ron said nervously as Harry's attention was brought back to the couple. "Even more than 'Mione here!"

"Don't call me 'Mione!" Hermione snapped, giving Ron a slap on the arm. "It's true though. What are you doing in there?"

"Reading, what one does in a library," Harry answered dryly.

"You don't have to be so rude," Hermione said, hurt. "We were just asking."

"Then don't ask," Harry replied, nonplussed as the carriage stopped. "See you."

He disappeared into the crowds before Ron and Hermione could get out of the carriage. "Bloody hell, how did he do that?" Ron gasped as he looked around.

Hermione frowned. "What's gotten into you Harry?" she whispered.

"You heard me," Harry sneered at the shopkeeper. He was in the Apothecary. "Dragon's blood, preferably fresh."

"We don't sell to students," the keeper sneered back. "I don't care if you're the Boy-Who-Lived; you're still a filthy mudb-"

He was pushed up against the shelves, spilling ingredients all round as Harry's blade rested at his lips, silencing him. Harry's other hand was clutching his wand loosely at his side, and the man was stunned. How could the brat soundlessly pin him up without even a wand movement?

"One more word out of your mouth and I'll cut your tongue," Harry breathed softly, nudging the man's mouth open with the tip of his blade. "Now, where can is the dragon blood?"

The man refused to answer, but his eyes darted to a locked cabinet to Harry's right. "Thank you."

Harry brought his sword down and the man heaved a sigh of relief. Suddenly, he yelped as he was forcibly thrown to the left, crashing through several shelves and landing in a bloody heap.

Harry's green eyes pulsated with power as he glared icily down at the man. "Never try my patience again," he hissed. "It's thin enough as it is."

A flick of his wand proved fruitful as the cabinet had powerful magical locking charms. No worry. A flick of his wrist, and the sword cut through the wooden box like it were butter. Wizards often neglected the muggle way of thinking. Gathering two jars of fresh green blood, Harry turned to the moaning shopkeeper and trained his wand on him.

"Obliviate."

Harry what did you just do? Tashaneri cried as he exited the shop. That was cruel!

He had it coming, the pureblood garbage that he is, Harry replied calmly. The ritual relies heavily on dragon's blood, and I'm not going to let an idiot with a wand up his ass get in my way. Do you have a problem with that?

Sort of! Tashaneri snorted. It's like you don't even care! Like… Like you're turning into Tom.

Harry stopped walking. Oh god, am I?