"Excited?"
He nodded, "Mainly for the whole 'giant, secret bathroom' thing, but yes."
She leaned back against the wall, "So you're just going to put on this cloak of yours, walk down and back?"
He nodded again, seeing a pensive reserve in her eyes. "What?"
"Just sounds too good to be true, this cloak of yours."
"Look, come with me upstairs, I'll get it and I'll take you back to your common room with both of us under it. It's great, never fails."
Her expression became steely, demanding. "Go on, but if you're pulling my leg I'll drown you in that bathtub."
They walked, laughing and holding hands, back to the Gryffindor common room and Pansy waited outside while he went upstairs to change. Ron was nowhere to be seen, as was becoming increasingly common of late and the only other from his dormitory was Seamus who was reading, perched on the edge of his bed.
"Alright?" Harry asked, crossing to his four-poster.
Seamus took a while to reply, like Harry's question had to wait in a queue in his mind. When he looked up, he smiled. "Oh, alright Harry? I'm grand, just reading over this – Dean picked it up for me from Diagon Alley." He held up a thin book somewhere between a pamphlet and a catalogue. At Harry's quizzical look, he elaborated. "It's all about companies and other schools, y'know? Things they're looking for, different things they teach. He said he might go for an exchange term at Seventh Stair in Canada and asked if I'd apply too."
That caused Harry to stop pulling off his robes and stare at Seamus. The idea of attending a school other than Hogwarts had never crossed his mind. Again, he felt that familiar frustration with his comfort and contentment at Hogwarts.
"Wow that's fantastic Seamus, it's honestly never even crossed my mind before but sounds really cool." Harry said, pulling his socks off and trying to look nonchalant. "Reckon you'll go for it?"
Seamus made a small nod. "I think so, God knows what me ma will say. You okay, Harry?"
Harry smiled, "Fine – sometimes I think I just need to pay more attention to the world outside, you know?"
Seamus laughed, "Well you can take it easy on y'self, most people here don't think about what they're going to do until after the OWLs – or so McGonagall says. And it's not like you haven't kept yourself busy, is it?" He stood and walked over, handing Harry the booklet.
"Have a look, see if there's anything you fancy. I'm gonna see who's about downstairs." By way of an ending, he clapped Harry on the back and left the dormitory, whistling tunelessly.
Harry looked at the booklet in his hands and resolved to look through it – just as soon as he didn't have to figure the egg out, learn Italian, compete against the other champions, clear Sirius' name and… all the other things. He finished disrobing, dressed in a pair of plain grey pyjama bottoms, grabbed his towels, the egg, and kicked into his slippers before digging out his father's cloak and heading back downstairs. Throwing the cloak across his shoulders and raising the hood, he was glad the common room was quiet.
Pansy was waiting outside, lounging against a pillar and spinning her wand around her fingers, leaving scintillating green and gold streamers in the air. She frowned as the portrait swung open and Harry stepped around her and pinched her backside.
The scream was everything he had hoped for: she jumped into the air with a shriek and he ducked as she swung her fist backhand at the exact point his head had been.
He dropped the hood. "Boo."
Ghostly pale, her eyes wide with fury, she glared at him, slapping his invisible chest hard. "Harry Potter, you massive arsehole!" She made to continue her diatribe, but looked down at the space she had struck and reached out the hand again. "You weren't joking about this thing, were you?"
"No, but let's get clear, you've probably woke half the school." He said, reaching out and taking her hand.
They hurried through the corridors, keenly aware of the approaching curfew and Harry introduced her to another of the shortcuts he had learned from the Marauders' Map, sliding down a smooth marble chute to just a few dozen feet from the bathroom.
There, behind an illusory wall, they lit their wands and Harry showed her the cloak, pulling it off his shoulders.
She ran the material through her hands, marvelling at its softness. "It's so… it's like holding water or something. What's it made of?"
Harry shrugged. "I know almost nothing about it, honestly – beside the fact that it's been in my family for a long, long time. It's been really useful."
"I bet it has. My mother has an old cloak, it's made of demiguise hair and it's like…" she tried to find appropriate words, chewing her lower lip, "like looking through a net curtain, like you can see tiny bits of whoever is wearing it whenever they move. It's alright if you stay still though."
"Well I've had some near-misses with this, but I've never been seen while wearing it – except maybe by Dumbledore – even when Ron and Hermione and me were all wearing it at the same time in first year." He smiled at the memory of the three of them shuffling around the castle at night.
She held a section of the cloak up between them and whistled. "I can see right through it."
Harry nodded, "Great, eh?"
"Great? It's ridiculous." She exclaimed. "I think you should do some research into this, you know. Maybe ask Dumbledore – you said he had it?"
"Yes, he borrowed it from my dad before… you know?"
She nodded solemnly and handed it back to him. "You need to look into it. But another day, let's get you to that bathroom."
He slung the cloak back over his shoulders.
"Do you need to wear it now?" She asked, touching his arm and looking him over. "I don't like the… whatever those trousers are, but the rest…" she touched his bare chest and he shivered with a tingle of pleasure.
He was torn for a few seconds, until a thought occurred to him and he flung the cloak over both of them, pulling her close and kissing her all in one movement.
Within the cloak, the world was a riot of brightness, but without, it was a dark corridor behind a wall that was only pretending to be there.
They made it to the bathroom door five minutes before curfew. He wore the cloak, but she walked unencumbered, preferring to not have to hunch to remain hidden.
"Do you know I can't even hear your footsteps?" She said as they came to a stop next to the statue of Boris the Bewildered.
"No, but I've never been noticed before, like I said." He replied, pulling the cloak off and rolling it up with his bath towel.
She frowned and took his free hand. "Have a nice bath."
He smiled, kissing her fingers as he liked to. "I will, you'd better get down to the dungeon."
She nodded and hugged him. "See you at breakfast?"
"Wouldn't miss it for the world."
He rested his head against hers.
They stood there for more than a minute – her hand on his chest, his on her waist. "Go." She said.
He kissed her nose and turned to the door. "Pine Fresh."
The prefect bathroom was enormous and one of the most obviously magical places that he had seen in all of Hogwarts.
Pansy broke their connection at the door and walked off down the corridor wiggling her backside for his enjoyment. Turning back to the room, he walked into a dense humidity that instantly made his skin feel dewy. As the door shut behind him with the ominous fizzing click of magical locks, torches erupted into light and he passed through an internal door and into a changing room similar to those used by the quidditch teams, but immaculately clean, complete with neat piles of fluffy white towels and slippers.
Shrugging at the lack of need for him to have gotten changed, he made for the next door and emerged into what he had always imagined when his Aunt Petunia had boasted about a spa retreat. The chamber was an enormous domed circular room at least as wide in diameter as the Great Hall was long. The ceiling was either glass, or enchanted like the Great Hall ceiling, showing a star-strewn black sky outside.
The whole centre of the room was a single pool, twenty feet across with a series of tapped pipes sticking up through the water in the middle. The outside edge of the room was separated into dozens of what looked like small, private rooms. The whole space was filled with a curious and haphazard mix of fragrances that confused the senses and the soft slapping of his slippers echoed off the mostly empty space.
Curious, he peeked around the door of one of the small side-rooms, finding a miniature version of the larger space without, complete with a small lounger and shower in the corner.
He whistled his appreciation and returned to the main chamber.
"You prefects really do get the best of everything, don't you?" He asked the apparently empty space in order to confirm he was alone. So far as he knew there were only a handful of prefects still at the school, so the chances of him being disturbed were slim – even Diggory had gone home for New Year's.
He gave anyone there a few seconds to respond and, being reasonably certain he was alone, threw down his towels and cloak on a lounger and dropped his trousers, feeling the warm air hit his bare skin made him shiver.
Marvelling at the idea of how the prefects could get used to just being here, naked or nearly so with each other, he ran his fingers through his hair, ruffling it up self-consciously. Then he laughed at the absurdity of his being self-conscious about his hair while standing stark naked in a strange place.
Putting that aside – and fighting off a moment of regret that Pansy wasn't with him, similarly dressed – he unwrapped the egg from his towel and inspected it in the warm torchlight.
It remained an inconveniently heavy and awkward thing. He twisted the latch on the top and it opened in its weird shell-like, flower-like way. The hideous wailing started immediately and he snapped it shut, wincing as the noise lanced through his head.
"He did say in the hot water, I guess." Harry said, taking a deep breath and stepping into the pool which had a fine layer of pearly mist dancing over its surface.
The water was warm, on that vague edge between comfortable and too hot as he descended a few steps. He could swim, but had never been particularly comfortable in water – having only had the mandatory free swimming lessons in his muggle school. Private lessons and birthday parties at the Greater Whinging Leisure Centre had been strictly reserved for Dudley. He walked deeper until the water lapped at his neck and allowed himself to relax – the water felt like it was seeping into his pores and muscles, loosing him up and relieving his tension.
After a few minutes staring at the night sky above, he gave swimming a try and after a few panicky moments found himself crawling along reasonably well. Leaving the egg on the side of the pool, he swam to the middle to inspect the many taps and pipes.
There were more than a dozen, each labelled with the nature of soap they would dispense. They ranged from the sensible – Sally Serpensa's Snake Peel, 'shed old skin, feel new' – to the ridiculous – Billion Bubble Bonanza which, when tested, caused a torrent of vibrant orange, purple and pink foam to gush from the tap, filling the air with thick, pearlescent bubbles the size of footballs that could be thrown, squeezed and even used as a floatation aid.
Harry dispensed a handful of Sally Serpensa's Snake Peel, which smelled almost violently of citrus and used it to wash himself down. After an initial moment of his chest and arms feeling like they were being scrubbed with a scrap of dragonhide, he found the sensation oddly pleasing, the soap leaving his skin bright and pink and smelling amazing.
Growing bored, he found another tap labelled 'Sleepy-Time Relaxing Soap', he gave it an experimental twist, upon which a lazy glob of syrupy amber gel dropped into the water. The smell of lavender and incense assaulted his nostrils and within a few seconds he could barely thing straight, wanting only to crawl out and collapse on a lounger.
But he resisted, swimming to clearer water and scooping up the egg. He inspected the thing again, grimacing at it. He waded out until the water was up to his chest and pushed the egg under the surface before snapping open the latch.
It burst open, dazzling light refracting up from beneath the water and stunning him, causing him to lose his grip and sending it sinking to the bottom of the pool.
Cursing, and remembering the frequent instances of being ducked under the water at lessons by Dudley, Harry took a deep breath and dived down for it.
As soon as his head broke the surface, he heard a cool, bubbling voice singing – it sounded not unlike the boiling of water in a cauldron. The song was definitely coming from the egg which was sat at the bottom of the pool and pulsating with the words. Harry rose back to the surface, spluttering.
Clearing his eyes, he cried out as he saw a grey, pearly face inches from his own. He jumped back as a loud, malicious cackle came from the sullen face of Moaning Myrtle. "Fucking hell, Myrtle!" he shouted, slapping the water in her direction and almost swallowing half the pool in his shock.
Myrtle's raucous laughter came to an end. "Oh hi, Harry. Sorry, but that was too much fun."
"Yeah, a real laugh." Harry grumbled, pushing his glasses back up his nose. "Arsehole."
Myrtle pulled a face. "I see you figured your egg out nice and quick. The other boy took longer to figure out that he had to open it under water."
"The other boy, you mean Cedric?"
She nodded. "Yes, the handsome one. He's always in here, we talk quite a lot – you might say we're great friends."
Harry hoped his disgust at the idea of a seventy-year-old ghost spying on the prefects as they bathed didn't show on his face. Then the wider idea clicked into place in his head and he grabbed for an armful of foam, pulling it around himself. "I'm naked, Myrtle, do you mind?"
Myrtle giggled sycophantically and pretended to swim. "Not at all, Harry."
"You weren't watching as I got in, were you?"
She raised an innocent eyebrow and grinned lasciviously. "I don't know what you mean. I was playing I-Spy with Peeves down near the kitchens when I heard the taps come on and came to investigate, for your information."
Not believing her for a moment, Harry shivered in spite of the warm water. "Well clear off, will you? I need to listen to this bloody song."
Myrtle theatrically covered her eyes and turned around which didn't make Harry feel any better whatsoever about the situation. But he took a deep breath and dived again, his mind far from any anxieties he might have had about being under water.
He appeared to have come in part-way through the message or song:
"… ponder this:
We've taken what you'll sorely miss,
An hour long you'll have to look,
And to recover what we took,
But past an hour – the prospect's black,
Too late, it's gone, it won't come back."
As the song came to an end, the light dimmed and Harry scooped the egg up, returning to the surface, being careful not to withdraw it from the water.
"That's weird."
Myrtle nodded, her back still to him. "It took Cedric ages to work it out, all the bubbles were gone."
Harry suppressed a dry-heave at the thought of the voyeuristic ghost perving on Cedric and took the egg back to shallower water. As he ducked under again, the song was just starting back up.
He listened to the whole thing a couple of times until he could remember it clearly.
"Come seek us where our voices sound,
We cannot sing above the ground,
And while you're searching ponder this:
We've taken what you'll sorely miss,
An hour long you'll have to look,
And to recover what we took,
But past an hour – the prospect's black,
Too late, it's gone, it won't come back."
Snapping the egg shut, he looked up to see Myrtle making a rude hand gesture to an animated cut glass mermaid who was combing her thick, wavy blonde hair.
He pondered the sight and the words for a moment. They had taken or were going to take something important to somewhere underground where he'd have an hour to find it or lose it forever.
He ran his hands through his hair, wishing he had done this experiment earlier in the day, less stuffed from an excellent dinner which was making him feel slow and stupid. He yawned widely and opened the egg again, listening to the song one more time.
"Seek us where our voices sound, we cannot sing above the ground." He mused, resurfacing. Myrtle was staring at him, perched amid the foam and soap taps. Behind her, the mermaid was looking at him, pouting.
He drew the egg from the water and opened it experimentally again, dropping it into the water as the screeching started.
"Myrtle…?" He asked.
"Yes, Harry?"
"Can merfolk speak above the water?"
The glass mermaid grinned and applauded.
Myrtle scowled. "Well you got there fast, didn't you? Took Cedric ages."
Harry ignored her. "So… if merfolk are going to take something important to me, I guess they'll take it under the water – I swear, if they wreck my Firebolt, I'll eat them – but for an hour. Where is there a place it… would take… an… hour… to… search. Oh, bloody hell."
Myrtle cackled.
"Myrtle, there's a clan of merfolk in the Black Lake, isn't there?"
Myrtle was beside herself with malicious excitement, only managing to nod.
Dread washed over Harry – swimming in this giant bath was one thing, but the Black Lake was enormous. Exactly how enormous was another matter entirely, and in February it would be freezing. "Well shit." Harry said. "I guess I'd better learn to grow gills or something."
Myrtle was grinning – happier than he had ever seen her. "If you die, you're more than welcome to share my toilet."
Harry glared back at her. "Cheers. I'm getting out now, if I catch you watching me, I'll tell Nick and the other ghosts that you're a bloody pervert."
Myrtle made an expression of mock fear. "Like I'm scared of that old bottle-top."
"You might not be scared of him, but I know for a fact that if it was bought to Dumbledore's attention, he might not like it. Might exorcise you out of the place, you know he could do it." Truthfully, Harry had no idea if it was possible to really banish a ghost even temporarily but if anyone could do it, it'd be Dumbledore.
Myrtle went an even whiter white at his words, blew a raspberry at him then, wailing, flew up into the air and down a nearby drain set into the floor.
