"-and he was right there above my bed, a crazed glint in his eyes and a gleaming knife in his hands."
Harry James Potter froze in the portrait entrance of the Gryffindor Tower, as Ron's voice echoed around the common room, Harry quickly spotting the red-haired boy sitting in front of the fire. His jaw clenched at the sight of the crowd of first and second years in front of Ron, all of them hanging onto the redhead's words as he once again told the story of how Sirius Black broke into the Tower.
His hand curling into a fist, Harry turned straight around and climbed back out of the Tower, ignoring the taunts of Sir Cadogan as he stalked away from his least favourite person in the world. Deciding to spend time with someone who actually wanted to be his friend, instead of the loudmouthed attention seeking Ron Weasley, Harry headed for the place he knew Hermione would be without fault on a Friday night after dinner.
The Library…
In no time at all Harry was striding through the aisles to Hermione's 'spot', stepping out into the windowed alcove and smiling fondly at the sight of the bushy-haired girl bent over a book, an essay on the table in front of her. Moving over silently, not wanting to attract Madam Pince's ire for 'walking too loudly', Harry peered over Hermione's shoulder to peer at the almost blank piece of parchment in front of his friend morbidly titled 'The Hand of Death'.
Suddenly Hermione was pushing her chair back and standing, both of them letting out a yelp as they hit the floor in an ungraceful pile of limbs and chair legs. "Hey Hermione," Harry greeted innocently as she blinked down at him in shock, "Nice trip?"
"Harry!" the brunette Witch blurted, scrambling off him and smoothing her robes down with a scowl on her face, "You brat! What was that for?"
"I didn't do anything," Harry defended as Hermione picked up the chair, looking around guiltily before sliding down into it again. "I was about to say I was here when you stood up," he continued, sitting down beside her and shooting her essay a confused look, "So what's this essay about? It looks complicated."
Hermione shot him a dark look before shaking her head, "Don't try distract me," she scolded knowingly, "It's a Friday night after dinner, what did you do?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry denied simply, trying to smile innocently at his friend before realising doing so wasn't exactly helping his case.
"You should be playing chess with Ron like you do every Friday night," Hermione pointed out, looking strangely relieved to be away from her essay.
"Ron's too busy telling everyone who will listen about Black," Harry confessed softly, looking away from Hermione's face the moment pity flashed across it. "I'm just sick of him I guess. Yeah he was my first friend but he really seems to be more interested in my fame than he does me, look at how he quickly he turned on me when he started getting attention," he added as he picked up Hermione's quill and started twirling it around his fingers.
"Oh Harry," Hermione exhaled softly, "I'm sure everything will get better once things have calmed down, Ron's just a little… excited... that he's getting attention. He'll remember us soon," she assured him.
"I'm not sure if I want him too," Harry admitted quietly as he pulled one of the library books closer and skimmed over it, happy to use it as an excuse to not look up at Hermione.
"You don't mean that Harry," Hermione corrected, "Ron's your best friend."
"First," Harry mumbled, interrupting what he was sure was going to be a lecture about the 'importance of friendship'. "Ron was my first friend. You're my best friend," he corrected slowly.
"I'm not your best friend Harry," Hermione argued without hesitating making Harry scowl up at her, the bushy-haired girl freezing at his dark look.
"I think I know who my best friend is Hermione," Harry countered simply. "Yes Ron was my first friend, but he's also lazy, arrogant, and admittedly he's a bit of a bully. I just didn't care, I wanted a friend and I let him continue because I had no one else". He paused and leaned back in his chair, "You didn't befriend me because I'm Harry Potter, you befriended me because you wanted to. You're nice, sweet, you help me with my homework without making me feel like an idiot. I feel like I can tell you anything, and you never turn your back on me," he rambled as he looked away from Hermione again, mentally screaming at himself to shut up before he scared her away.
"Do you mean that Harry?" Hermione whispered softly, Harry's neck and ears burning as he picked up the emotions in her voice.
"Course I do," Harry agreed simply, hoping that she wouldn't cry or try hugging him (He liked her hugs, he really did, but they kind of hurt with how strong she was). "Hey, what does it mean by 'The Hand of Death'?" he asked quickly, changing the subject as he heard her sniffing and saw her wiping at her eyes.
"Hand of Death?" Hermione echoed curiously, "Where does it say that?"
"Uh, on your essay?" Harry corrected as Hermione snatched the book from his hands shiftily, glancing over the titles on the pages.
"Hand of Death?" Hermione repeated once again, blinking at her essay for a moment before turning a frown on him. "What does it say, Harry?" she asked slowly, turning the essay to face him and pointing at the title, "That?"
"Yeah that," Harry agreed, raising an eyebrow at Hermione in confusion, "It says 'The Hand of Death', all scrunched up and on top of each other," he explained as he inspected the strangely written title, shivering slightly as it felt like something ran down his spine. "Like it's got 'The', then below that it's got 'Hand', then below that is 'Of'-"
"Harry," Hermione interrupted suddenly. "You can read that?" she asked cautiously, looking a little nervous.
"Your writing's a little messy, but yeah I can read it," Harry confirmed hesitantly, not liking the way Hermione was staring at him.
"Harry, that's not English," Hermione corrected bluntly, "That's not even words. It's a rune, from my Ancient Runes class? And what you were saying," she continued as Harry stared at her in confusion, "You weren't speaking English. You said 'Dew And Lat Abear Lamb'."
Eyebrows furrowing, Harry pulled Hermione's essay closer and squinted at the title, rubbing at his eyes beneath his glasses as nothing changed. "It's in English," he argued, "It's a little scrunched up, but it's definitely-" he froze as the words blurred suddenly shifting about until he was staring down at four completely different words.
"Harry?" Hermione asked slowly.
"Du andlát abr lam," Harry read aloud, both of them freezing as the candles floating above the table went out suddenly. "Hermione?" he asked nervously as he heard cries of shock and pain echoing through the library.
"Lumos."
Jumping at the sudden noise, Harry turned to face a pale-looking Hermione, her wand lighting up the surrounding area. "Are all the lights out?" she whispered quietly, both of them glancing up and down the aisles to see only darkness.
Shivering at the eeriness of it all, Harry stood up and drew his wand, standing on his chair and relighting the table's candles. "I think… I think they are," he agreed, using his vantage point to see across the library, where he could see a couple of bobbing lumos charms attached to various confused students. "Do you think the enchantments on the candles wore out?" he asked curiously.
"I don't know," Hermione confessed as he climbed back down, looking a little frightened as her eyes darted between the shadows. "They've never done that befo- Harry!" she hissed out suddenly, looking panicked and terrified, "What if it's Black?"
It took Harry a moment to figure out what she meant by Black, but when he did he quickly reached into his shoulderbag and pulled out his invisibility cloak, not hesitating to throw it over the both of them. "I started carrying it with me after he broke into the Tower," he admitted quietly when he caught Hermione's shocked stare, "I thought it was a good idea."
"It is Harry," Hermione said slowly, "I just completely forgot about the cloak. I er… I made a list of ideas you could use to escape Black if he tried again," she added, Harry barely able to see the faint blush on her cheeks in the candlelight.
Not wanting to think about Black, Harry glanced around curiously as he watched light beginning to bloom through the library, people obviously starting to relight the candles. "What d'you think caused them to go out like that?" he murmured slowly, glancing over at Hermione who frowned for a moment before a look of realisation flashed across her face.
"Say it again," Hermione ordered, elbowing him in the side roughly as she pulled off the invisibility cloak, "What you said before. Say it again."
"The Hand of Death?" Harry said obediently, glancing up at the candles which were still lit, shrugging at Hermione when she frowned again.
"Say it differently," she corrected instantly, "Say it in the other language."
Harry faltered for a moment, closing his eyes and concentrating on what he'd said. "Du andlát abr lam," he repeated, opening his eyes slowly to find everything pitch black again. "Did I do that?" he blurted in shock as Hermione recast the lumos charm, cries of shock and annoyance echoing through the library.
"I… I think so," Hermione confessed.
"Du andlát-OW!"
"Stop saying that!" Hermione scolded. "It feels bad, really bad," she explained as she lit her wand again, Harry spotting the pale and drawn look on her face. "Please don't say it again," she begged desperately.
"I promise," he assured her quickly, guilt flooding him as he realised the spell was obviously having a negative effect on Hermione, "I won't say it again. What's it for? I mean you said it was Ancient Runes right?"
"It's our homework, it's due on Monday. I've been trying to figure out what that rune meant all month, Harry," Hermione rambled out, rubbing her forearms like she was trying to warm herself up. "Professor Babbling gave us the rune and told us to find out everything we could about it, and no matter where I looked I couldn't find a thing about it!" she exclaimed, sounding frustrated as she glared down at the essay, "I was afraid I was going to have to turn in a blank essay."
"What does it look like? The rune?" Harry asked curiously as Madam Pince materialized from the shadows to flick her wand at the candles above their table, glaring at them as she vanished into the shadows again to continue lighting more.
"It's a triangle," Hermione shrugged, "There's a circle inside it, with a straight line bisecting them both down the middle. I asked Madam Pince and she just laughed at me, then she said that she had been asked not to help us with the assignment, and suggested that I go read a fairytale instead!" she huffed out angrily, crossing her arms with a dark expression.
"Well at least you know what it does now?" Harry offered hesitantly as he shoved his invisibility cloak back into his bag and sat back down, "It's a spell that turns lights off."
"I don't think it is," Hermione corrected faintly with a disappointed look in his direction, "Why would a spell that turns off the lights, translate into 'The Hand of Death'? It doesn't make sense. Please don't say it again Harry, not until we know for certain that turning off the lights is all it does. Please?"
"I already said 'Yes'," Harry defended, "You know I keep my promises. If I say I won't, then I won't."
"You also said you weren't going to do anything stupid during the holidays, and yet who inflated their Aunt?" Hermione countered, making Harry blush and fidget awkwardly.
"She asked for it," he murmured under his breath, clearing his throat as Hermione's eyebrow rose at him. "I said 'I didn't mean to do it'," he lied, "She insulted my parents and I lost control."
"Oh Harry," Hermione sighed with an exasperated but fond expression. "Let's go," she decided, "I can do this tomorrow, let's go somewhere else and relax."
"Could we sit by the lake?" Harry asked hopefully, "I'll let you beat me at cards again?"
Hermione rolled her eyes, beginning to pack her things quickly as he stretched slowly. "Fine, but we're not playing Snap," she agreed, causing a grin to split Harry's face as he threw his bag over his shoulder and stood.
As Hermione copied him and started towards the aisle, Harry couldn't resist calling after her.
"Shall I get the lights?"
Okay, so I don't actually know what this is, but I was writing and it just happened.
If anyone can recognise the Language then they'll get cookies, and I don't mean just Googling it either. *Suspicious look*.
ALSO! If you haven't noticed the AN is at the bottom of this chapter. It's just something I'm trailing after my sister starting doing it, it allows you to get straight into the story without the spoilers of reading the AN unless you want to.
I don't own Harry Potter or The Language.