WARNING: In this chapter, the story finally earns its rating for relatively mild sexual content. It fades-to-black since I'm trying to comply by the rules of FFNet, but I think I might post a more explicit version somewhere else depending on demand.
CHAPTER FOUR. ALL AROUND HIM ARE FAMILIAR FACES.
So far, Harry had been doing a great job pretending Riddle didn't exist again. He didn't look at the Slytherin table during meals, didn't glance when they occasionally passed each other in halls, didn't spy on him when they were in the library, and didn't even try to think about Tom Riddle at all. It was surprisingly difficult, but his irritation at being manipulated fueled him.
Well, that was until Care of Magical Creatures, when Kettleburn, the batshit crazy Creatures professor , led them out where they just stood near the Forest. They were on a dry, sandy part of land. At least one student looked regretful that they were still taking this course at NEWT-level. Harry was standing off to the side, closer to the Forest than the Castle. Kettleburn still hadn't said a thing. Just stood there, with his missing arm.
That was when Harry saw Them coming, at first just looking like shadows in the distance. The Thestrals were coming!
"Oh, I see Mr. Key here can see them. Yes, yes, that makes sense... you were very close to the war, weren't you?"
One of the Thestrals leaped ahead and approached Harry and nuzzled him. Harry nearly fell over, so surprised by the approach.
The others followed suit, almost swarming him, and they even accidentally pushed a couple students standing next to Harry. Harry started laughing as their nipping and licking started tickling him.
The other students who were blind to it all were just confused at Harry's behavior, some disoriented because they'd been pushed. Harry wasn't sure what was happening, but he was enjoying it.
"This is amazing," Kettleburn said. "They've taken to you like moths to a light. I can't imagine why, but this must be documented. I've never seen such domesticated behavior! Class, what you are witness- oh. Well, what you are partially witnessing are Thestrals. If you turn to the 66th page of your texts, you'll see an artist's rendition of them. For most of you, you'll never see a Thestral in person," and with a very serious pause: "Count yourselves amongst the lucky." A few students looked to each other, worried to the meaning. Some started reading the Thestrals passages of their text.
The Thestrals hadn't been so drawn to him before. Harry theorized it was possibly related to Harry being connected to the Elder Wand, which had a Thestral Hair core. Or maybe it was related him being Master of Death. It was a title Harry didn't quite know what to do with or understood the meaning of. But Hermione informed him he'd probably been the first to ever unite all the Hallows.
One Thestral clearly wanted Harry to climb on top, but he held off on it momentarily as he saw an old man and a very, very large boy approaching them, groundskeeper and assistant, who must have accompanied the Thestrals. The half-giant was staring in awe at Harry and what he perceived to be the relationship between Harry and the Thestrals.
The students nearby who saw Hagrid walking towards them immediately backed away. Harry grew furious but Kettleburn beat him to it. "CALM YOURSELVES," came the booming voice of the Professor. "You call yourselves NEWT Care of Magical Creature students...? Anyone with half a mind knows Acromantulas can't petrify or have killed Miss Warren that way. Mr. Hagrid here is a good lad with a love for all creatures."
Hagrid had just been recently expelled and everyone thought him to be a monster. But Hagrid would have just been a fourth year if he were still a student. If Harry didn't know that he'd be destroying Voldemort fifty years from now, he might have done something regrettable at that moment. Like a bad habit, everything Riddle started entering his thoughts again, and he started wondering what sort of plans Riddle was plotting next.
But then as Harry thought about it, he wasn't sure if he'd have stopped Hagrid from being expelled. Maybe being expelled and then hired to keep the grounds wasn't such a bad thing. Hagrid eventually got hired as a professor, he got to work with all sorts of beasts in the Forest, he met Olympe Maxime, and because he was close to Dumbledore, Hagrid got to meet his half brother. Hagrid was also an orphan since his father had died in his second year, but working at Hogwarts allowed him to be safe from the Grindelwald War and create a new family here. Harry wasn't sure Hagrid would have gotten to do all these things if Hagrid got a normal education and went out to get a Mastery in Care of Magical Creatures. He had a lot of mixed feelings.
Kettleburn continued lecturing, unaware of Harry's inner turmoil. "Now as you can see, Harry here is completely safe. But due to Ministry classification, I couldn't expose Thestrals to you until now. Which is absolutely crap. Rest assured I will get that changed." At this moment, Harry decided to do a bit of showing off for the dubious seventh years around him. Caressing the Thestral that wanted him to mount it, the Thestral leaned down and allowed Harry to climb on top.
He received numerous gasps. A lot of them probably saw just a flying Harry. "Bravo, my boy. Bravo!"
Kettleburn continued lecturing, and Harry stopped paying attention, waving over Hagrid instead. Hagrid, who at this point was probably used to being a pariah, only pointed at himself and mouthed a 'Who? Me?' Harry waved him over again.
"Hey, how are you," Harry asked. "I'm Harry, by the way."
"I'm Rubeus. Rubeus Hagrid. I'm assistant to the Keeper of the Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts," said the boy with a deep, yet shy voice. He was holding his hands in front of himself.
Harry wasn't too sure what to say next, but he knew what would get Hagrid to open up: "Want to tell me about your favorite creatures in the Forest?" Hagrid's eyes lit up.
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A couple days before the Alchemy project was due, Riddle and Harry were still looking around the Forbidden Forest. They had agreed via communication by first year that this was to be the last time they would try to search in the Forest before just writing the damn paper. It was after dinner, the sun was low in the sky but not near setting. There was a light breeze out, and out in the distance there were some students sitting outside as well as the Slytherin team practicing Quidditch. But for the most part, they were the only ones around for a large distance.
It had also now been a few days of Harry refusing to even look at Riddle. They had wandered around the edge of the forest in complete silence for a full hour, made only more obvious by the lack of nearby sound, just walking and kicking up anything that looked interesting, before Riddle lost his patience. "You're different, Key. What are you up to?" That was blunt. And also telling. He had realized since the other week that there was no way Riddle wouldn't have noticed someone spying on him. He couldn't have imagined Riddle going very far in his Dark Lord career if Dumbledore had easily gotten evidence of Riddle's wrongdoing early on just by using a spying spell. Riddle had been manipulating him.
"Nothing. Just looking at ingredients to combine," Harry said innocently.
If Riddle was the type to roll his eyes, Harry would have imagined that to be a good moment to do it. "Clearly that's not it."
"Really then? Why, what have you noticed?" Harry inquired. When Riddle didn't say anything, Harry gave himself a point.
Riddle spoke again, "There is a rumor going around that you can fly without a broom. Another rumor says you single-handedly tamed Class XXXX beasts."
Harry slapped his face, exasperated. "Literally neither is true." And Riddle chuckled softly.
Eventually Harry spoke up again, but in relation to their project, "Did your followers tell you if they found anything out here?"
Riddle quirked his eyebrow at the 'followers' comment. Harry shrugged. Force of habit. "They haven't. They're planning to just write the paper but I don't trust their findings."
Harry frowned. "It's very possible that Slughorn wanted us to not find something."
"Yes... that does sound like a lesson he would have wanted to impart... It just seems unlikely. If there are materials to combine as common as pumpkin juice or eggs or gold, I can't imagine there couldn't be something here...," Riddle said, overturning some leaves with his foot. As autumn had just begun, the leaves had yet to develop their crunch.
And then it occurred to Harry: "Wait, that must be it!"
Riddle looked at Harry, frowning, probably about to ask before realization dawned. "Yes... The key is in the lack of magic in the materials," he said, echoing Harry's thoughts.
"That makes sense. Slughorn did mention some time during lecture that aether was stagnant in the muggle world. The catalyst moves the aether and allows objects to bind and change properties. It doesn't work for items that already have flowing aether due to Magic. It also explains why they asked us not to search in the forest in the dark because of the potency of moonlight."
Riddle posited that, "No, it probably is actually a safety issue. They don't want to risk students accidentally going deeper into the forest at night. But the rest I can agree with."
Harry paused, remembering something. "How weren't you able to figure this out before? I thought you'd have read all the alchemy books in school already."
"Oh, and why do you think that?" Harry thought Riddle's voice sounded just a little teasing. Probably because Harry couldn't answer that question without admitting he had been spying on Riddle. The little counter in his head, evened the score from earlier. Harry: 1, Riddle: 1.
"You just don't seem the type to walk into a class without knowing everything already," Harry answered lamely.
Riddle sighed. "The few Alchemy books there are don't cover the basics and fundamentals and sit in the Restricted Section. Wizarding society as a whole seems to frown upon learning alchemy without a master to guide you. Alchemy, and Rituals as well, are among the few magics that can't be undone very easily unlike most charms or spells. It's why it's dangerous for people to learn on their own. And since there are laws against putting those topics in text accessible to children, it's why you see many rituals coming from tradition or outside the country." That was actually very informative. And also the most amount of words Harry had heard Riddle saying all at once since he arrived in 1943.
"So does that mean this is it? There's probably nothing that hasn't been touched by either the forest or the school's ambient magic." Harry asked, "Do we go back and write about our findings?"
"No..." Riddle held a finger to his bottom lip. "... I'm trying to think of a way we can find objects that haven't been magically enhanced from years, centuries, of being near Hogwarts."
Harry picked up a stone and inspected it. "The stones. The stones are stagnant. It's why some runic rituals require keystone. They're an anchor that magic can bind to, but not permeate, like magic would with a blade of grass. They're probably also the only material in this forest that has stagnated aether. I'm not so sure this theory is right, though. Isn't our food touched by house elves? So wouldn't eggs... and drinks like pumpkin juice be magically enhanced? How could he have made the demonstration work? I can't imagine wizards having the patience of growing pumpkin patches the muggle way."
Riddle tilted his head. "Maybe, maybe not. For all we know this was the lesson we were supposed to learn, and Slughorn actually took pumpkins and eggs from the muggle world." He looked up in the trees, where a few little birds were playing with each other. "Do you think those visiting sparrows have touched enough magic to be influenced?"
Harry balked. "We're not killing birds!"
Riddle raised an eyebrow at Harry's reaction. "I was only planning to catch one and pluck a feather... You were the one who jumped to death."
Embarrassed, Harry acquiesced it was a bad assumption to make. But Riddle appeared to have moved past the comment and went back to staring at the twittering birds before saying, "But how are we to catch it without summoning it?"
Harry stared at the leaves on the ground and remembered that Slughorn said putting an easily corruptible object like the zircon rod in a transfigured satchel wouldn't have been a problem. He didn't really understand free vs used magic and why the castle several yards away was more corrupting than a transfigured net, but magical theory was a bit beyond him. Taking his wand, he decided to try his hand at free transfiguration. The standard schedule put free transfiguration, as opposed to normal easier ones that required an incantation, later in the schedule NEWT lesson plan, but since Harry had enough transfiguration experience to last until Christmas where he left off, it was no issue. He transfigured the leaves into a wide net. Harry flung it up at the birds immediately... But it failed. The sparrows only hopped to the nearby tree. Their chirping was like laughter as the net fell limply toward the ground. He glared at the birds who didn't fly away yet, probably interested in what Harry was doing, while Riddle chuckled. A warm, smooth chuckle. No, Harry mentally shook his head. A dark lord evil cackle, Harry corrected.
Riddle took hold of the end of the net and bound them with some other rocks near by to add some weight. Harry tried again and one sparrow managed to be caught off guard. The sparrow chirped, panicked, but Harry shushed it, gentling taking it from under the net. "Don't worry," Harry said softly.
"It's just a bird," Riddle said, annoyed that Harry wasn't moving on.
"It's still a life," Harry said, and it reminded him that Riddle of course wouldn't understand. "Do you know how to cast a pain relief or numbing spell..." it came out before he could stop himself.
Surprisingly, Riddle did. Probably came with the territory of being a brilliant encyclopedia-like student. The idea of Riddle relieving pain was a bit peculiar. "After, though," Riddle had said. That seemed cruel. "Don't want to corrupt the bird. Do we even know if it's from the non-magical world?"
Harry lifted the bird to eye-level, as if to better see if there were traces of magic that the bird carried. "Yes. As magic-less as Muggle."
If Riddle was surprised or impressed, he didn't show it. Harry carefully plucked three feathers from different locations and the bird started chirping in discomfort. Riddle immediately cast a pain relief charm, and once the bird calmed, Harry let it go chase it's brethren. But not before concluding that he should keep the memory of Riddle casting a pain relief charm safe in case he ever felt like creating a Museum of Voldemort. Harry put two feathers in a glass collecting jar he brought along and put the third in the cauldron. Harry grabbed a stone, checked it as well for magical traces and then put it in the glass cauldron. Then taking the zircon rod, he stirred the feather and the stone. They peered in.
Nothing happened.
"I look like an idiot, don't I?" Harry said mostly to himself.
"Give yourself a little more credit than that," Riddle said, deadpanned. Harry actually wasn't sure if that was meant to be a reassurance or an insult. Sighing, Riddle started looking around again. They'd done so many times before, but this time it was with renewed eyes.
Harry sat onto the ground and lifted some soil from the ground to examine magical contents. While it would have been awfully convenient for him to just look in the forest and extend his sensitivity, it was hard when the Forest and even the air permeated magic. It was easier when there was direct contact. Plants were an absolute no-go, as they do nothing but absorb. Most living matter carried magic on their surface when exposed to something so potent as the forest and the school.
In the distance, the sun was starting to set. Neither made a move or a suggestion to leave. Harry had remained sitting on the forest grass. Legs bent in front of him. Riddle, who had his eyes closed while standing and leaning against a tree seemed to come up with something. He walked over to a fallen branch, carefully lifted it with two long, nimble fingers, and cast, "Incendio." As it burned, he let it drop to the ground. When it finished burning amongst the stones, he picked up some of the charcoal and ash, pulled out the feather that was in the cauldron, and dumped the charcoal and ash onto the stone. Kneeling down so he was beside Harry, he took his own zircon rod and stirred contents of the cauldron. Riddle pulled out the rod when it looked like something was happening. The stone that was sitting in the cauldron glowed red before spontaneously melting into a hot black and red sludge in the glass cauldron. It was brilliant. The high heat easily warmed the dark haired boys that bent over it but apparently didn't melt the glass.
"Harry," Riddle said, his eyes glittering with scholarly enthusiasm, "I do believe we just discovered lava."
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Needless to say, Slughorn was more than impressed after he had skimmed everyone's handed in papers at the start of class. "I have never, never in my life heard of this. Most students are expected to discover that they can't discover anything. Only the teams of Mr. Riddle and Mr. Key, and Miss Holmstead and Mr. Wilson, were able to correctly deduce that non-magical items are the base materials that alchemists use to transmutate. But no one probably since the days of the founders have been able to still find a way to transmutate items from a magically dense forest. Lava. Mr. Riddle and Mr. Key, you make a marvelous team." Harry was both proud and disturbed at the compliment.
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Winifred didn't want to shag him. He couldn't say he was completely surprised, but he did like her a lot so he didn't mind too much. But the problem was Harry's sexual drive had only grown increasingly while he was here, and there was only so much that wanking could do. Maybe it was the thought of being with Winnie and knowing she had been with girls in the past that turned him on, he wasn't sure. He certainly never had a problem when he was with Ginny. He had liked Ginny enough and she was a bit frisky but he didn't think about sex as often with her as he was currently.
Speaking of Ginny, over the past week of being with Winifred, he realized he stopped thinking about Ginny as often. Actually, instead, he started wondering why he was so interested in Ginny to begin with. He certainly cared about her, and he remembered a strong attraction to her when they first started dating, but he definitely felt like he wasn't sure what about Ginny he liked other than being cute in a best friend's little sister sort of way. He supposed he was right when he told Hermione that separation with Ginny would only make things bad for their relationship.
If he was sent back to 1998, he wasn't sure if he would want to be back with Ginny. He probably would end up with her out of convenience, but would he want to?
That made him feel like a bad guy though, and it made him wonder if he was only just saying that because he had a pretty brunette on his arm now, and Ginny was only interesting while she was one of the more attractive girls in his life.
He would re-evaluate later; the relationship with Winnie was still too new for him to properly assess things. So she didn't call it a relationship, but he was getting mixed signals, frankly. Every so often they'd sneak into empty rooms and snog, and she'd let him touch her under her robes. First, it was just her breasts.
But just earlier, today – Friday, after he had Battle Club – they were in a dark broom closet. Winnie was more willing to go further with him when it was dark, and he tried not to think about the implications.
Winnie's robes were wide open, and her bra was off, and he was lightly brushing his thumb over her breasts. Then she had grabbed his wrist while they were snogging and brought his hand down to where her knickers were covering her womanhood. Catching her meaning, he had started rubbing her, when she bucked at the touch. He kissed her a bit more before moving her knickers to the side...
Needless to say, that was why he was here, lying in bed in the early evening just having darkened the sky - the curtains having been closed shut, and thinking of shagging.
After he had apparently managed to satisfy her manually, she seemed to get bored very quickly. She hadn't wanted to touch him intimately (yet, he hoped), and, for now, he was okay with it, because she wasn't ready. He wasn't some arsehole that was going to pressure her. He still had a very stiff problem that needed to be addressed, but even though she said it'd be more of an open relationship, he had a hard time with the thought of being in anything but a monogamous relationship. While he would have appreciated some finality to their encounter, he wasn't the type to just pull any girl away and have a meaningless shag just because Winnie said it was okay for him to do so.
He wondered offhandedly if she would be okay with bringing a girl in for a threesome. That was thinking with his other head, though, and he knew he would regret the thought the moment he finished wanking. But for now, he enjoyed then imagery. Or he would. Except as he tried to think of Winnie and a faceless girl together with him, all he got instead was the face of Tom Riddle who'd been constantly occupying his thoughts recently.
Since Riddle noticed that Harry caught onto the cold shoulder act, Riddle seemed to stop playing mind games, for now. And was halfway human to be around. He was sure Ron would have been pissed Harry hadn't done anything but it very literally wasn't the place nor the Time. And, Harry loathed to admit it, but Tom Riddle was very different from Voldemort. While he maybe deserved punishment for having gotten Myrtle killed or having killed his Muggle family, he wasn't the same person who started a genocide, and Harry was not big on revenge killings. Harry wouldn't have even destroyed Voldemort if his life and the survival of his friends hadn't hung on the balance.
Okay, so Ron would still say that Harry could have saved Sirius or Lupin or Fred. That really wasn't much of an excuse. So it seemed that Harry just really didn't want to kill Tom Riddle at the moment, for whatever reason.
Harry sighed. He just got on another Riddle tangent again, and tried to push those thoughts away so he could work on his little problem.
Suddenly the door opened, and he heard a, "Hey, Harry, I know it's late but Quinsley wants you to help her with... – OH. AHH." And the door slammed. Harry froze. It was Michael.
The curtains around his four-poster were closed to conceal him, but every boy knows that if you close the curtains, and it's not quite bed time, you're clearly working on things unrelated to sleep, in bed.
Deciding to just give up on wanking for the time being, he got up and made himself presentable to the public. He walked downstairs. "You called, Captain?" Harry said, trying not to show his deep embarrassment.
Clearly trying to stifle a laugh, Michael had his fist to his mouth while sitting at a table. Quinsley was sitting on a couch, broom in her lap, completely red-faced though still stubborn looking.
Calming down, Michael said, "Quinsley wants some extra practice, and wants you to throw some Quaffles at her. I'd do it normally, but I figured this was a good time as any to get you two to bond."
"And also you have an Arithmancy paper due on Monday."
"And that too… Poppy will tear my head off if I don't finish before I go to Hogsmeade... but mainly teamwork!" He slapped his fist into his palm for emphasis. "You guys haven't said a word to each other since we started practice on Sunday and I can't have that on my team."
All Harry could say was, "Um, okay."
When they got to the empty Quidditch pitch, Harry just started throwing the Quaffle at her in random intervals in different hoops. He tried to feint on occasion and fly up and down to throw at different angles. She would catch it and throw it back, or, less often, he'd have to summon it as it headed to the ground. Harry wasn't sure what this practice session was supposed to achieve. They still hadn't said a word the entire time as she was entirely focused on keeping Quaffles out of hoops.
"Is this helping you?" Harry shouted to her. It was cold, so Harry wasn't too pleased. He flew around a bit more to warm up.
He could see her shrug and toss her short dark hair out of her face. "I'm not getting them all, so yeah."
After about forty minutes of boredom, Harry decided to call it in for the night. Tsang followed and they flew to where the supply closets were and put the Quaffle and Harry's borrowed broom away before locking up with Michael's key.
"So are we... Okay?" Harry asked a little awkwardly when she locked up and turned to look up at him.
Blinking, she didn't seem to hear him because she changed the topic. "How do you do it? … Be a good Seeker?"
Harry sighed. Was she still on that? "I don't know... I guess... you can say that when I'm on a broom, I forget about everything. I feel... Invincible when I'm flying. So the lack of inhibitions helps."
"I feel the same way sometimes," she said. It was dark out, and he had a hard time making out her expression. So he made a move to walk back to the entrance. She followed, but kept talking, "It's like freedom... But then when I see something impossible like a far away Quaffle at the other hoop or when you took that dive during tryouts, I start thinking about the stats... that my broom can only decelerate so much or go zero to sixty in only so many seconds, and I sort of freeze."
Harry chuckled lightly. "Yeah I don't really think about those things. I sort of just of fly and let Magic handle it for me. Just... Forget. It's all I can recommend."
"Why'd you go into Quidditch anyway?" he asked later, trying to fill the silence.
Tsang shrugged. "My parents weren't okay with it at first but they eventually came around. They told me if I didn't honestly believe I could go pro-Quidditch, I should drop it by fifth or sixth year."
"And they forced you to be a seeker?" he asked.
"No that was all me. As a keeper, every missed Quaffle is something my parents could hold over my head. And they actually have... I could be a beater and they couldn't measure anything, but look at me!" She gestured at her petite figure. "I could be a chaser – all positive points because no one tracks your missed attempts – but I'm not good with cooperating with others."
Apparently she thought that explained it because she stopped talking. Harry didn't understand. "… but as a seeker you only get the snitch or you won't. Wouldn't failing then be worse? One missed Quaffle isn't much compared to missing a whole snitch."
She opened her mouth, probably going to say some sort of excuse, before shutting it again. They walked for a few seconds before she started laughing. And boy was it not a graceful laugh. She had to hold her stomach and gasp for air. Harry thought she was sort of okay like this. Charming, almost. "You know I never actually thought of that. I just assumed I'd always get the snitch!" She wiped a tear from her eye.
Harry was confused. "No one ever asked?"
The fourth year shook her head. "They sort of took the I-want-glory excuse at full value."
"What does this mean for you, then?"
"I'm not sure. I imagine now that I know there's not a lot of options that I can put a lot more energy into training."
"Wait, was that not your full potential? You'd be a great keeper then!"
She blushed. "Thanks."
Eventually they found their back to Gryffindor dorm; she had been sharing some crazy antics that members of the team used to do.
"... And Mervin was so awful at aiming Bludgers that he was banned from trying out for Beater for the rest of his Hogwarts career!" She giggled. They stopped in front of the portrait. Harry got the feeling he shouldn't say the password just yet. She looked up at him and said, "You know, you're alright Harry."
"... Thanks..."
"I mean it. When I saw you with your messed up hair I thought you'd be one of those stupid arrogant Quidditch jocks. But apparently that's just your hair, and you're actually really nice." She gave him a smile, and when she didn't look so stubborn or angry, Harry thought she was actually pretty cute.
"Good night, Quinsley."
"Good night, Harry."
When they went through the portrait, she seemed to bounce up the stairs and straight to bed. Meanwhile, Harry still felt awake since he wasn't the one who just flew around like a maniac for forty minutes. Harry saw Poppy and Ben working quietly in one of study tables in the common room.
"Hey all..."
"Hey, Harry- did you finish your Transfiguration paper?" Poppy asked.
"Yes, I did." Since he practically lived in the library these days, he got a lot of work done.
"Can I copy it?" Ben asked, exasperated, before Poppy threw one of her texts at him.
"Hey!"
Harry laughed and bent down to pick up the fairly light book on animating footwork. When he went to put it on their table, he saw Ben's pile of books on German history.
Glancing through it, he froze when he saw The Book. The red book with the brown typeface that Hermione had carried around with her while they had worked on the ritual. How did he not realize before that Ben could have checked it out? Harry grabbed it immediately, worried it would disappear. He memorized the title, worried it might vanish again if he weren't careful. Deutsche Geschichte des 18. Jahrhunderts. Quite a generic looking book, the author's name wasn't even written on the cover.
"Uhh, did you want to read that?" Ben asked, a little surprised at Harry's mystified reaction. "It's written in an old German dialect. Also, I have to return it to the library tomorrow."
"Can you... Can you translate it?"
"Err, not really? I mean, vaguely, but you'd do better finding someone else who actually can read it or find a less rudimentary translation spell. I only used it to look at the maps." How did Hermione do it? Crazy witch.
"How about I take this back to the library for you tomorrow?" Harry said.
"Oh. Oh yeah okay. Hey while you're at it, can you take... These three too?"
"Sure."
"I always wondered why we had to return these manually instead of the books being auto-summoned," Ben complained. "Instead of suffering the punishment of holding overdue books."
Poppy shrugged and said it was probably to collect late fees and allow students who needed them longer to hold onto them if they really needed it.
Harry put the books preciously in his bag. He'd return it after his Hogsmeade trip tomorrow.
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Saturday morning. Hogsmeade weekend. Winnie, to his surprise, decided to go with him, even though they weren't seriously dating, and it just made Harry happy to think that she was changing her mind about dating a guy little by little. They had just gone and gotten Harry a couple of outfits that weren't just his one Hogwarts uniform or his flying robes. Harry was just going to buy one very inexpensive robe, but Winnie wouldn't have it, and helped cover a more extensive wardrobe.
"I can't let you buy this for me," Harry insisted, starting to understand why the Weasleys wouldn't take charity.
"Hey, I have to be the one standing next to you knowing you're wearing the same robe every day. Your cleaning charms are good, but they're breaking down the fabric much faster than normal. Besides, I know you're on a Ward's allowance-" Harry didn't correct her "- and I'm sure you'll pay me back eventually. Hey, I would have done this even if we weren't dating. And even if you didn't pay me back, my mum's a great corporate solicitor in the Muggle world." She shrugged.
Emerald eyes blinked behind frameless rectangular glasses. "She doesn't work in the Wizarding World?"
Winnie snorted. "Why would she? She makes more money in the Muggle world than she ever did in the Wizarding World and has Magic to help her with her cases."
"But what about the Statute of Secrecy?" Harry asked.
"That's only if Muggles discover what's she doing, and she's very discreet. The only danger comes if all Wizards decide to do the same thing and they won't because most pureblooded folk discriminate against dealing with Muggles."
Harry and Winnie walked over to Sandalwood's Every-Day Supplies. Here, Harry was supposed to pick out a new leather bag to replace the "robe" that Dumbledore let him borrow.
He was deciding between sticking with a cheaper bag or getting the one with security features embedded at a prettier penny. While staring at the price tags, he heard the door of the store opening with the light tingling of bells. A familiar magic entered the enclosed space, and Harry chose to ignore it.
"I could help you get the better one if you want," Winnie said, putting a hand on his shoulder.
Harry thought this was starting to sound like one of those sugar mummy set ups where an older woman pampers a younger boy with gifts in exchange for sexual favors. Winifred probably wouldn't get the reference, and she definitely wouldn't see why he thought Winnie was "old" considering she was in her perspective about a year younger – he had to wonder if Winifred was still alive in 1998. "Please don't," he opted to say instead, practically begging her not to buy it for him.
"Oh, all right," she said laughing. She gave him a small kiss, lingering for just a second on his lips.
Harry suddenly felt a brief wash of a familiar, deadly magic. A male voice from behind them said, "Well, I didn't know you decided to play for the other team," Riddle said. They turned to acknowledge the Slytherin who didn't look particularly happy. But really, when did Riddle look happy?
For some reason getting caught like this made Harry feel rather nervous. It had been a while since he had gotten that intense stare from Riddle. But then Harry had to ask himself why he thought Riddle discovering their relationship was the equivalent of being caught. He hadn't exactly been hiding the relationship from his or her friends.
"Oh this?" she said. "This is very casual. You should try dating casually some time. Harry's fun, I'll pass him to you if this doesn't work out."
Harry gave Winnie the most aghast and horrified look.
When Harry managed properly keep the red off his face and looked at Riddle, Harry thought he saw a strange expression on Riddle's face but it must have been his imagination because it was at least neutral at the moment.
Was his earlier theory right? Harry couldn't help but wonder if Riddle did like Winnie in that way if Riddle was behaving oddly now. Riddle certainly didn't look happy about this discovery. Maybe he had been waiting for Winnie to start trying to date guys again and was irritated that Harry was the first she was experimenting on? It could certainly explain his behavior.
"I'm surprised, I thought Harry here would be a marrying type," said Riddle, cocking his head. "Calculating" again. Every bloody time he did that, it caused Harry more trauma. And why did people keep thinking Harry was a marrying type? What a load.
… okay, he had to admit he did end up in 1943 on the premise that true love existed somewhere. But they certainly shouldn't know that.
"It's an open relationship," Winnie said. Harry nodded, keen on defending it, but Riddle kept looking at Harry, as if reading something.
"Really," he said, sounding as if he was challenging it.
But without another notice, Riddle about-faced and left the shop.
Winifred gave a look full of suspicion to the retreating Slytherin. "You know, he's never taken in interest in who I was dating before." She leaned her elbow on the nearby shelf and put her face in her palm.
Harry tried to shrug it off and tried to keep his head back on track. He noticed his heart had been beating quickly and took a few deep breaths to calm down. He wasn't sure why he felt that encounter could have gone badly. Wait, no, probably because Riddle was dangerous enough to spill blood if someone got in his way. He would keep an eye out in case Riddle jumped him from the shadows to get back at Harry for dating Winnie. "Probably because it's never been a guy before." He pulled out the cheaper bag, deciding to go for practicality. He wasn't sure what he could do for income next.
Winnie seemed to have her mind elsewhere as Harry paid for it, and said something that would bother him all day: "Also, did he even want to buy anything because he just entered and left..."
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Harry still tasted a bit of butterbeer. They parted ways after the Three Broomsticks since Harry needed to return Ben's books to the library. While he was there, he checked out the book in his name, and when he left the library he was practically dancing in delight.
As walked down a corridor, he saw a number of Hufflepuffs chatting and laughing by the window. And in the group, he thought he saw a ghost. Metaphorically speaking. It was a face he thought he'd have never seen again. At the same time, however, he knew it wasn't possible.
The boy, clearly very charismatic, looked just like Cedric Diggory, if a bit younger than Harry last remembered. The same handsome chiseled face, but maybe more bronze colored hair and hazel eyes instead of grey. His face was maybe slimmer than Cedric's. Was this a grandfather? Or a great uncle? It's interesting that earlier this week he saw a Thestral when his first ability to see Thestrals was via the death of what was probably this boy's descendent.
Apparently he'd been staring too long again because the group of Hufflepuffs had turned to look at him. "Who's that?" "Oh it's that new student! Harry or something." "Is he looking at us all or just one person?"
Harry snapped out of his stupor because he rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry about that. I know someone who looks just like him," he said gesturing to the Cedric Diggory lookalike.
"I hope he's good looking then," the boy said, grinning, holding his hand out for a handshake. "I've seen you in Battle Club... I'm Cedric Diggory." – Harry twitched. – "Nice to meet you... Harry Key, is it?"
Harry's mind stopped working and his breath caught in his throat. Did he hear that correctly? That's impossible. Well, maybe more than probable that Amos Diggory named his son after a family member – Harry always thought he'd name his children after his parents – but this boy almost looked identical to Cedric of the 1990s too. "I'm sorry I didn't quite catch that. Did you say Cedric?" The apparently 1940s Cedric nodded happily, unaware of the struggle Harry was facing as he tried to get his mind functioning again.
"Kill the spare."
Deciding to stick around a bit, Harry asked, "So, um, what are you guys doing?"
"Playing 'Snap. You know how to play?"
Lying, Harry shook his head, deciding to allow them the conversation topic so he could focus on the not-dead Cedric Diggory. It was also probably easier this way, as someone once told him there were different variations of Exploding Snap. "How does he not know?" "Dolt! He was probably a prisoner of war, remember?" "But he plays Quidditch." "Everybody plays Quidditch!" "Everybody plays Exploding Snap." "Come on guys, shush. It's impolite to ask someone about this stuff when they were probably imprisoned for a long time." Cedric laughed weakly, clearly embarrassed by his friends.
"That's alright," Harry said to him, finally being able to breathe. "My Gryffindor yearmates are the same way. What year are you guys?"
"We're fifth years." "What about me?" "Okay, we're fifth years and one fourth year because she's dating this guy over here." "Thankfully, she's not with us all the time."
Well, that would explain why Harry hadn't seen Cedric Diggory earlier. He wasn't in Harry's classes and would have been surrounded by his friends. Also, Harry thought a little annoyed, this Cedric was taller than Harry as well.
The Hufflepuffs were a fairly large group – large enough that Harry had a hard time telling apart except for one guy who was apparently Tsang's older brother ("Yeah, sorry about her...") and one girl who was Michael's younger sister ("Don't even get me started."). There was also a Macmillan and, surprisingly, a Goyle and a Spinnet.
"Why aren't you guys in a common room?" Harry asked mid-game. It looked like this could have been the entire Hufflepuff class of fifth years.
"Oh, we study together in the library – we take one of the side rooms but this is our break where we get some sunlight and fresh air so here we are," Cedric said.
Tsang's brother said, "Oh, hey, I heard you're sort of dating Winifred Vance?"
When Harry confirmed it, there were a couple of interested murmurs but for the most part people went back to either leaning out the windows or continuing 'Snap.
Cedric gave Harry a funny look that Harry wasn't sure the meaning of, and stepped close to Harry so they could speak privately. "Last I heard, Vance was pretty strictly a gold star sort of girl."
"Gold star?"
"Hasn't been with a man before."
"She, um, changed her mind with me?" Oh, yes, Harry's voice did not sound confident about that.
Cedric gave him a doubtful look. But before Harry could inquire as to why, a female screeching came from the walls before a ghost flew into their corridor. "Olive is being naughty. Olive is being nauggghty. Come on, come on, come look with me!" It was Moaning Myrtle!
He heard some exclamations of surprise from the group near him. The Hufflepuffs seemed to collectively close in together and quickly walked back to the library. Cedric was still standing beside Harry. "I guess I should follow them. Wanna come with?" Harry shook his head. The Hufflepuff walked a couple steps to follow his yearmates – Myrtle was floating nearby, probably intrigued that Harry wanted to stay.
Then thinking better of it, Cedric turned around, put his hand on Harry's shoulder, and leaned in close to Harry's ear. Harry could feel his warm breath on his neck as he whispered, "The rest of the 'Puffs are a bit disturbed by the idea of Myrtle Warren's ghost. …she was... killed... less than a year ago. Sure you don't want to join us?" Cedric seemed to linger there, close to Harry, and looked into his emerald eyes seeming to look for something.
Harry felt a bit red from the proximity but shook his head apologetically. "I'd love to, but at the same time I get the itching feeling I should investigate."
Cedric looked disappointed but nodded. "You're definitely a Gryffindor. Well, see you later then." And he patted Harry on the arm.
Suddenly, Myrtle flew in until she was a couple inches in front of Harry's face. "Wanna see?" she said eerily. Eyes wide behind her glasses.
"Um, sure." He wanted to spend time with Myrtle. Like Hagrid, she was a victim of Riddle's crimes... even if she didn't look particularly disappointed in being dead at the moment.
After following Myrtle down several flights of stairs, she led him to a classroom. When he approached the door, he heard moaning inside.
"I don't think I should," Harry whispered to Myrtle.
Myrtle looked like she was going to bawl because he wasn't joining in on the fun, and Harry put his arms up to quiet her down.
But then he heard a groan that he recognized. A throaty, female sound that he knew well, because it sounded just like Winnie when they would snog. So his curiosity or instinct got the better of him, and without really thinking of the consequences, without thinking of using a spell to look in instead, he opened the unusually heavy door. The hinge creaked loudly at his action, and Harry looked in to see a familiar brunette between someone's legs.
It was Winifred, of course. Servicing a girl sexually. Servicing someone who wasn't her sort of boyfriend. Him.
Hearing the door open, Winifred turned around. "Harry!" It was said with surprise, only mixed with a dash of guilt.
The girl on the desk sat up, her legs still spread. She was a Slytherin with wavy brown hair that was clearly disheveled from the act, slightly arched dark eyebrows, and very subtle ugly sneer. There was a little beauty mark over her lip. And that must be Olive Hornby. She was distracted by the cackling Myrtle. "Leave me alone, Warren!"
She closed her robes and legs, and Winifred did the same.
To Harry's credit he didn't react badly. He just let go of the doorknob and turned to walk away. He agreed to this, right?
"Harry!" Winifred shouted after him. "Harry, you said you'd be okay with this." It seemed Winifred understood he was hurt even if he didn't blow up or even run away.
He stopped and turned around. When he looked at her again she lost that lovely glow he used to give her, blinded by his attraction. He saw instead just a 16-year-old girl, above average prettiness but a bit sweaty from her acts in the classroom, instead of the flawless goddess he made her out to be.
"I guess I was wrong," Harry said. "I'm sorry, you were right. I guess I'm not cut out for the open relationship."
"Wait! Can... Can we... Can we still be friends?" she asked.
Harry realized he can't really stay mad at her if she explicitly warned him about her lack of restraint when it came to her sexual desires. So he nodded. "Yeah. Maybe not right away... but yeah."
As he walked away, he wasn't sure but he thought he heard Olive Hornby's moaning continue.
He grabbed the red book in his bag and looked again at the cover. So he knew with a fair amount of certainty now that Winifred wasn't his true love anymore. But it was okay.
Because he was probably going home soon.
I always thought Cedric Diggory was written to be the nice, Hufflepuff version of Tom Riddle. Hope you liked this chapter!
My original intention was to drag out Harry and Winifred's relationship much longer than it did. But then, well.. it'll be explained next time!
Special thanks to GenderlessPerson of Silk Roads fame for mentioning this fic!