Disclaimer: O merciful, wondrous gods of yore, I beg to thee, may these characters ever be truly mine?
A/N: Woo! Onto Chapter 7 we go, with the sixth chapter finished and myself reinvigorated! Onwards to the end (which is probably around 550,000 words away, dear god what have I started)
This was finished in a single night. 4400 words. Tell me what you think; now that I'm on a writing streak I might end up writing a lot more than I could ever entirely process.
Chapter 7: Wand Weighing With a Warp
o0O0o
Harry and the twins laughed with glee at the Gryffindors' horror and hair. The Slytherins seemed both mortified and pleased. Slytherin colours on Gryffindor bodies? That was just wrong, but the horrified expressions on their rivals kept their mouths shut. As soon as the lionhearted clan had begun to eat breakfast their hair and robes turned silver and green, causing screams to erupt from their table and chuckles eliciting from the others.
Ronald Weasley, infuriated and red in the face, stood and marched to Fred and George. "You've gone too far! Fix this or I'm telling mum!"
The twins, cured of their incongruous hair, spoke in unison. "We're sorry Ronniekins, but we've no idea what you're talking about."
"Simply dreadful, being made to look like disloyal, jealous snakes, isn't it?" Harry chimed, grinning at Ron.
"You… you… You complete bastards! Just you wait, mum will hear about this!"
The owls chose that specific moment to appear, the white amongst the flurry of brown catching Hermione's eye.
"It's Hedwig! She's got a message from Newt!" the witch nudged Harry excitedly, dragging his attention away from the silver-headed prat.
"Oi! We were talking! Don't interrupt me! OW!" Ron shouted angrily, proving to be unwise when Hedwig bashed his head with her wings and elicited a shriek of pain from the silverheaded fool.
"Yes, we were, and now he's done. You were beginning to sound like Malfoy, all, 'my father will hear about this!' and everything," Hermione defended her boyfriend.
Ron turned and stormed away as Harry continued pointedly ignoring him.
"Gee, he's really been a prat lately, hasn't he?" Neville said as he transferred a slab of bacon onto his plate.
"It's quite odd, Ronald didn't use to have such a temper. I think maybe Harry's presence was a humbling factor for him," their ex-Ravenclaw compatriot theorised.
The raven-haired wizard at the table stared at the others for a moment, and when they'd cut the chatter he began to read aloud;
"Dear Scamander House,
I must say I'm quite honoured to have been chosen, nay, even considered to be your head of house and even namesake! It came as quite a shock to Tina, Pickett, and I. Though I'm getting on in my years I'm not quite old enough yet to be truly retired. Never too old for me.
You may expect me at lunch. I'm looking forward to another, longer visit even so shortly after my visit last year.
Yours truly,
Newton Scamander
Somewhere, in the chaos of the Great Hall and many eyes focused on Harry Potter and the rest of Scamander House, Draco Malfoy slipped out and vanished.
o0O0o
An uneventful day led up to lunch, the most notable topic being that it was the twin's day to teach. Between a joint transfiguration lesson between Harry and Fred, a Potions class taught by the twins, and another joint lesson of Luna and George for spellcrafting, the day was off to a good start.
Lunch arrived as their spellcrafting exercise came to an end, Hermione having developed the most flourished spell of them all; hers was a simple flick and twist but it let off a stream of water and fire. It was a simple combination of the Aguamenti and Incendio spells, with some edges needing polishing but for the most part, it was a powerful spell.
Lighthearted chatter was exchanged within the group and several students who had begun to sit with them; notably Fleur and Viktor. Fleur, now fully acquainted with the Scamanders, had even adorned her hair with a beautifully royal appearing purple flower in honour of the colour scheme. She'd been telling them about the oddity of their immunity when the doors to the Great Hall opened.
"We Veela 'ave our allure, which only affects zose who 'ave yet to find love. Eet is a sad fact zat so many are affected indeed. P'raps eet ees posseble zat all of you are indeed in love wiz somebody?"
Harry and Hermione exchanged happy looks, and though nobody noticed, Neville sent a fleeting glance at Luna.
"Oh, indeed!" a twin began to the puzzlement of the table.
"Of course!"
"How ever haven't we noticed?"
"We,"
"The Weasley Twins,"
"The Terrible Two,"
"The Menaces,"
"Are head over heels in love,"
"With Harry Potter!" the two finished in tandem, batting their eyes at the wizard in question. He groaned but laughed as well, producing an odd sound not far off from a choke.
Hermione threw her arms around him and stuck her tongue out at the twins. "Nope! You don't get a single piece of him!"
And with that, the doors to the Great Hall swung open to reveal a wizened wizard. Though he carried no staff he had the white hair and long beard often associated with magic users, and what appeared to be a stick on his shoulder.
"Good afternoon, Mister Scamander!" Dumbledore boomed cheerily, happy to see a former student, "Your house is in the middle."
"Thank you, Headmaster," the man called back, ignoring the echoes the sound made in the silent hall, "And Scamanders, how are you?"
"Wonderful, sir," Harry called, "It's an honour to have you here," he said, standing and clapping. The applause quickly swept through the crowd, to the abashment of the newest addition to Hogwarts.
"Thank you, thank you…" he said, colouring. The applause quite swiftly died down and he looked around a little awkwardly. "Goodness. Er, Mr Potter, where would I sit?"
"That's a very good question. I'm afraid I don't quite know. Hermione?"
Before the bushy-haired witch could respond, McGonagall had arrived. "Mr Scamander, I believe there is now a seat waiting for you," she said kindly, beckoning him towards the staff table.
"Oh, thank you, ma'am. Please, call me Newt. This whole 'Mr Scamander' business isn't quite my cup of tea."
"Of course, Newt. In that case, feel free to call me Minerva. We are coworkers after all."
The man walked with the formidable witch to the table, which had expanded to fit him. He was sat next to Hagrid on the side closer to Dumbledore. Harry smiled, imagining the conversations that those two would have.
"I'll be interested to see how those two turn out together. Professor Scamander I suppose he is now, he helped get the Ban on Experimental Breeding passed and Hagrid certainly loves his wacky creatures." Hermione chatted.
"That gives me an idea. Seeing as how we don't have a Care of Magical Creatures class yet, I think he could help us out there and that would give him an official job here besides his head of house responsibilities. He's probably the most qualified person to have as a teacher," Neville spoke up.
"That's a good point, actually. That's a really good point! He's to Magizoology as Dumbledore is to the Leader of the Light," Luna pitched in.
"I'll approach him about it later today."
Lunch ended soon after and as promised, Harry approached their new head of house while the others made their way to the dorMs
"Professor, follow me. We've got our dorms and classrooms set up on a rather high level of the castle, out of the way of most traffic."
"Of course, Mr Potter. It's been an awful lot of time since I spent more than a few days within these grand halls."
Harry smiled and looked around the Great Hall as the walked towards the doors. "Grand they are," he agreed, before becoming more serious, "Now, we've got a peculiar setup for Scamander House. Because we don't want to shift around the entire schedule of the other four houses, we've decided each of us students shall teach the others. This leaves us in the situation of not having a Magical Creatures professor."
"Oh, that simply won't do. I suppose you'd like me to teach you?" the magizoologist chuckled, the twinkle in his eyes quite similar to Dumbledore's.
"Well, nobody could say you're slow on the uptake. Yes, we'd love for you to do so."
"Consider it done. I've entertained the idea of teaching here for quite some time, but never really had the opportunity. Even in my so-called 'retirement;' - for one never truly retires from something they love - I've been travelling. I spend quite some time in the Amazon these days, the creatures there are magnificent."
Chatter was slung back and forth between the two as they arrived before the Room of Requirement.
"Here we are, Professor. Our abode for the next months."
Upon entering the room, Newt's jaw fairly dropped. "That's quite an impressive set up you've got. How did you accomplish it?"
"The room itself provided everything. Allow me to demonstrate. Tell me, Professor, if you had to have an office what would you like it to be?" Hermione piped up from a hammock.
"Well, I've never been terribly fond of office settings, but if I had to choose I'd say a nice, open office with a view of, say, the rainforest. Lovely creatures there, I say," Newt began, watching with wonder in his eyes as a room opened up near the library. "Wondrous! Magnificent! I dare say in all my travels I've not seen a thing like it!"
"Yup. Everything we need is provided by the room, everything except food and living creatures. It can recreate plants for some reason, but we don't think the plants are edible or useful at all really. It's quite a shame. However, the greenhouse is actually showing some results! The room provided several seeds and stems that are growing into what appear to be fully functional plants," Neville enthused, his love of the subject bubbling over with excitement.
"Yes, this room does just about everything we need it to. Hermione tried to decipher how it works, but was unable to, to her immense frustration," Harry laughed, earning him a dirty glare from the girl in question.
"I think this will work just fine," Newt said from his office space, which upon inspection had full floor-to-ceiling windows displaying the gorgeous Amazon rainforest. The rainforest, Harry noted, certainly earned the rain in its name.
o0O0o
Following a rather interesting session of Care of Magical Creatures wherein the newly dubbed Professor Scamander told of his work with the Ministry to control the Ukrainian Ironbelly population from 1914 to 1918, Harry and Hermione bid farewell to the house and began making their way to the Headmaster's Office, where they had been summoned.
"Ah, Mr Potter, Ms Po- Er, I mean Granger. How nice to see you," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, leading the blushing couple to believe his slip had been no accident.
"Good afternoon, Headmaster. What was I needed for?" Harry asked.
"Yes, that. The Weighing of the Wands ceremony will be taking place soon. I thought it would be prudent to tell you some of what happens."
The pair, now sitting in a comfortably wide chair together, nodded almost simultaneously.
"Harry, Garrick Ollivander will be officiating the ceremony, he may have questions about your wand. I advise you polish it before the ceremony starts; he does not take well to wands that have not been cared for properly. There will be a media presence, I was informed that it will be Rita Skeeter. She is not quite the kindest witch in the world, I would advise taking caution in her presence not to say anything that could be twisted into a story. Certainly don't let her get you alone for an interview."
"I'll try not to, thank you, Professor." Harry acknowledged.
"Just how long do we have until it takes place?" Hermione questioned in place of her boyfriend, for which he sent her an appreciative glance.
"Oh, a good hour yet."
The pair stood, straightening their clothes slightly from sitting rumples, bid farewell to the Headmaster, and left. Harry again called for a lemon drop as he left, prompting another hearty laugh from the warlock.
They entered the quarters again, greeting the others and sharing a hammock in the loft.
"What'd Dumbles want?" a twin asked to a strict reprimand from Hermione.
"You oughtn't to call the Headmaster that, it's not proper. Besides that, he simply called us down to tell us about the Wand Weighing Ceremony for the Triwizard Tournament."
"Hear that, Gred? Hermione's going to weigh Harry's wand! Tell us all about it, luv!" the other twin called from the couch, lazily staring at the ceiling.
Hermione went beet red, some of which was likely from laughter. Harry was an even more intense shade, looking as though he was trying to embody the colour scarlet. "Oi, you two! You're simply mad because your girlfriends don't spend nearly as much time with you!"
"Well, ickle Harrikins,"
"That isn't our fault."
"You were the one who dragged us into this mess!"
An hour of good-natured banter was exchanged before Harry had to extricate himself from the hammock, dumping himself and Hermione on the floor as was inevitable with such things. Hermione joined Luna and Neville in the rows of bookshelves as Harry left for the ceremony.
Were it not for the rather ridiculous looking woman standing before the door, Harry felt he would have had more difficulty finding it.
"Mr Potter, what a delight to see you!" the woman said, greed in her tone and her eyes looking as though they could turn into cash signs at any moment.
"And you are?" Harry asked, wary of the stranger.
The woman tutted, looking affronted, "That simply won't do," she complained, "I'm Rita Skeeter. Special correspondent to the Daily Prophet."
"Oh, yes. Well, I assume you're here to cover the Weighing of the Wands ceremony?"
"Why of course, but perhaps we could do a small interview beforehand? The wizarding public is simply dying to know a little more about you."
"I'm afraid I'll have to decline that, ma'am, the ceremony is starting rather soon."
"Oh, in that case, we'll simply have to do it after the fact?" she insisted. "Yes, how about that? Thank you, Mr Potter," she said, giving him not a moment to respond before turning and entering the room.
Harry rolled his eyes and followed her in. Beyond the doors lay the other champions, their headmasters, a few officials and the creepy man Harry remembered from getting his wand. Guiltily, as he walked towards the other champions, he realised he hadn't taken time to get to know Cedric like a good sportsman would. He'd make an effort later.
The room was cramped, for there was a count of twelve people in it. A rather paunchy looking man behind a smoking camera was eying Fleur, to Harry's slight annoyance.
"Ah, here he is! Champion number 4! In you come, Harry, in you come… Nothing to worry about, just the Wand Weighing ceremony, the rest of the judges are… Actually, it appears they're here already!" Bagman almost shouted, nervously shaking Harry's hand.
"Now, the Wand Weighing ceremony, quite simply put, is designed to ensure that your wands are all fully functional and have no probleMs"
Harry frowned as he realised he hadn't polished his wand, he'd gotten too wrapped up in the swaying of the hammock and Hermione next to him; the banter between the twins and them was a powerful distraction as well.
Dumbledore stepped forward, standing next to the seat Ollivander had appropriated for wand appraisal. "May I introduce Mr Ollivander?" he said before sitting at the judges' table. "He will be checking your wands to ensure they are in good condition before the tournament."
The ancient wandsmith's pale eyes looked at each contestant in turn. "Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have your forward first, please?"
She swept through the space between the champions and the desk he was sat at, holding her wand delicately and handing it to the wizened man.
"Hmm…" he said, twirling the wand in his almost skeletal fingers like a baton, embers of gold and pink flowing from the tip. He held it close to his eyes and examined it critically. "Nine and a half inches… inflexible... Rosewood. Dear me, a…?"
"An 'air from the 'ead of a Veela," she explained, "'eet was one of my grandmuzzer's."
"Yes, indeed," he responded, "Yes. I personally tend away from Veela hair cores, I've found they make for rather temperamental wands. But to each his, or her, I suppose, their own. It suits you well," he ran his fingers along the wood, checking for bumps or scratches; then muttered, "Orchideous!" and a beautiful bouquet of flowers sprouted from the tip.
"Very well, very well, it is in fine working order," concluded Ollivander, handing the wand and flowers to the French champion. "Mr Diggory, you next."
Fleur smiled prettily at Cedric as she flowed into her seat.
"One of my own, I believe," enthused the wandmaker with much more liveliness than before, "Yes, I recall it well. A single hair from the tail of a fine stallion, seventeen or so hands tall, tried to gore me when I plucked it, he did. Twelve and a quarter inches… ash… pleasantly springy… Fine condition, I must say. You treat it regularly?"
"Of course, sir," Cedric grinned, "Polished it last night."
Harry looked surreptitiously down at his own wand. He'd taken care of this one better than the original; it was rather shiny. A small smudge smeared along the wand, which he quickly rubbed off with the hem of his robe. Almost unnoticeable golden sparks swam through the air in front of Viktor's face, eliciting a smile from him. The bulky Bulgarian nudged Harry, a small shake of his head signalling amusement.
"Mr Krum, if you please…" Ollivander said, the Quidditch star immediately walking forward as a silver smoke ring dissipated. He slouched across the space, yanking his wand from his pocket and handing it over.
"Well, if this isn't a Gregorovitch creation… A fine wandmaker by any standards, even if his styling wasn't quite what I… However…" he spoke, running his fingers over the edges of the wand, checking it all over, "Hornbeam and dragon heartstring, correct? Ten and a quarter… Avis!" a flock of birds flew from the wand and twittered about as the wand was handed back.
"Which leaves us… Mr Potter." the man beckoned forth, hand outstretched. Harry felt somewhat apprehensive, what the man's reaction would be… Harry crossed the gap and handed the wand over.
"Quite beautiful, but not a wand I recall… If you don't mind, what happened to the last one?"
"It was incinerated during the debacle of the World Cup."
"Nasty business, that was… To the wand. Remarkable. Silver ashwood… Quite, rare, I must say. Griffon feather core. However… I sense something else. Similar to the feeling of holly and phoenix… a small bit of dragon, but not any core from a dragon… You said your wand was incinerated?"
"Yes, I did. If you're wondering, those are the ashes of my old wand," Harry supplied.
"Remarkable indeed. Perhaps you could visit my shop sometime, we could talk more about it. Silver ashwood, griffon and wand ash, twelve and three quarters… Somewhat flexible. Almost new in condition, to be expected, I suppose, but could use more polish," he said, observing it for a second more. "I am somewhat concerned, however, about the core change between yours and… The other. We shall have to talk about it when you visit me," the man continued, before flicking it and animating his desk.
Receiving his wand, Harry walked back to the group.
"That concludes the ceremony. You may return to your classes, though perhaps you should simply head to dinner - the classes are virtually finished already," Dumbledore told, waving his hand toward the door.
"Wait a minute, pictures, Dumbledore, pictures!" Bagman said with unending enthusiasm, "All the judges and champions. What do you think, Rita?"
"Er - yes, I suppose we should get those out of the way first. Then, some individual shots perhaps?" she suggested, eyes locked on Harry in a predatory manner that made him feel distinctly uncomfortable.
The photographs took far too long. Madame Maxine could simply not fit in the photo; eventually, she was told to sit for the pictures. Karkaroff twirled his goatee far too often for Harry's liking, something was quite simply off about Durmstrang's headmaster, like a bad movie villain. Krum skulked, sticking to the back of the pictures to Harry's surprise. Surely he was used to these by now? Harry supposed he was simply tired of all the publicity. Harry himself certainly was.
By some time into dinner, they were finally allowed to leave. All those, save for Harry, left immediately; Harry had an interview lined up.
"Let's get this out of the way quickly, I must say I'm famished and my girlfriend must be waiting on me."
"Girlfriend?" Rita spoke, recording it instantly.
Harry groaned.
o0O0o
Harry missed dinner altogether, returning to the dorm to find Hermione waiting on him.
"What took so long?"
"Pictures and Rita Skeeter. Woman's a menace, I swear. Some of the questions…" Harry shuddered, recalling her questions regarding his other 'wand'.
"Oh, that lady… If the wizarding world had libel laws, I'd sue her the second I got the chance."
"There's a queue forming for that," Harry responded, deadpan. Hermione laughed.
"I can wait."
The couple curled into bed several minutes later, talking idly before falling asleep.
o0O0o
Hermione was dreaming, a nightmare really. That terrible woman Rita Skeeter had written an article about her, highlighting all of her issues. Harry left her, and she was kicked out of Hogwarts.
She knew it was irrational, but it woke her anyway. Careful not to wake Harry, she got out of bed, pulling on a nightgown and robe; taking Harry's cloak. Without telling anyone where she was going she left, walking to the most isolated spot she knew of.
o0O0o
Harry woke, no warmth was pressed against him.
"'Mione?"
No response.
Rolling out of bed, he cast a Lumos and looked around. She wasn't there. He threw on some clothes and walked down to the commons, finding again nobody. He rushed back to the room, nervous energy swiping sleep from him. No Marauders' Map greeted him in his trunk, nor did his cloak.
"Shit, where is she?"
"Harry?" Luna's voice called from the doorway.
"Luna? What are you doing up?"
"She's at the tower. Run."
"What?"
Luna's eyes closed and she fell to the ground, unconscious.
"Oh, shit. Really, really, shit," the pit in Harry's stomach threatened to devour him, he levitated the younger girl and placed her on the couch before running out of the dorm, running in the direction of the Astronomy Tower, where Hermione was likely to be.
o0O0o
Harry rounded the corner far too fast, feet sliding out from underneath him and ramming him into the wall painfully. He heard a sharp crack from his hand and it erupted in pain.
Before him was Draco Malfoy and below him a slumped form with frizzy hair. A knife dripped blood onto her body.
"Hermione," he whispered, tears filling his eyes. Absent-minded fury sent a whip of green magic soaring towards the murderer of his love; Draco being slammed into the wall and pinned there. The knife he'd been holding sliced his hand in half as he was held there, too tightly to even scream.
Harry crawled towards Hermione, cradling her head in his arms when he reached her. An ugly slash wound winded from her shoulder to her hip, punctuating in a stab wound at the base of her spine. In his magic he could feel her heart slowing, her soul draining away to wherever death lay. Magic coated her as the forlorn boy sobbed, his soul flowing over her in fury and self-hatred. Fury that the world was determined to take what little left he had; hatred that he couldn't stop it.
It was several minutes before McGonagall arrived in cat form, pulling Harry away from the frail body.
o0O0o
Hermione lay in the sterile environment of the hospital wing, life slowly fading. Her heart couldn't take the poison. Tears soaked her shirt from the boy at her side. He could feel her heartbeat, once, twice, and the next one didn't come.
"No," he shuddered, "No!"
Madam Pomfrey lay a hand on his shoulder. "Harry, she's gone. You must get up."
He turned towards her, "No! I won't let her die!"
"Tightly shut those doors of death! Take my magic, take my breath! Take it all to the very last! But please, o Death, don't let her pass!" he commanded, a lone tear trailing down his cheek. His eyes began to glow, magic so thick in the air the room took on an emerald tint. The atmosphere rumbled, the trees stirred, and a lightning bolt shattered through the ceiling and impacted the boy.
The windows blew out and the Forbidden forest shook; Pomfrey flying across the room, landing conveniently on a bed. Harry fell to his knees and an aura flared out from him,
In a webbed hollow, a gargantuan, ancient spider stared. Unnoticed by anyone nearby, his body grew a bit younger and stronger - the magic imbuing it with youth.
A centaur observed the sky, ripples barely visible in the air. "It is as Mars commands. Descended of a druid…"
Fawkes' flames flittered through the air, bringing Dumbledore with him. "No, Harry, my boy! Fawkes, his magic is running away!"
The phoenix lept from the warlock's shoulder, flames trailing him in his distraught state. Tears dripped onto the frail looking boy as the shaking grew more intense. Storm clouds grew denser overhead.
"Formare, et rore spissum, et obstringere manere, trahere tergum tuum!" chanted the aged wizard, looking as old as he truly was. "I command thee!"
Hermione's eyes shot open as Harry's fluttered closed and the boy collapsed.
A/N: I didn't finish Chapter 6 before I wrote those last two scenes. This came to me in a burst of inspiration, which I think may lead to me writing out random pieces of storyline before I upload anything new.
I'm not sorry for the cliffy. Not at all. *mad cackling*