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Harry was running, the sound of birds singing their songs and the rest of nature as their chorus reaching his ears as he did his tenth lap of the afternoon. Hogwarts wasn't incredible in terms of physical exercise, but the Quidditch Pitch was as good a place as any when it came time to do his near-daily running. The perfect circle around the border was practically the same thing as a Muggle race track, its smoothness and lack of holes or rocks making it perfect whereas everything else in the Northern Scottish territory was far from good.
He turned his head towards the stands when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. At first, he had thought it was a person who'd come to watch him despite the odd hour of the day and the 'weird' activity he was currently occupying himself with. In reality, that person was two people and they hadn't come to watch him, but to snog in a place where they likely thought they had as much privacy as could be found whilst attending Hogwarts. Normally, they would have been right.
Reckon I'd like a witch soon, but most of them want me for my name or they're bat shite crazy, He thought to himself with jealousy before turning away from the now snogging older students.
This year had already been crazy, he'd completed two tasks — both of which most people had bet against him to do, much less come in first and stay in it as he had thus far — and so he figured that perhaps next year would be a better time for the sake of his schedule and, well, life. He certainly didn't need a witch taking up his studying time, as infrequent as it was.
If only this whole thing could be solved like a Quidditch match or with any level of exertion beyond basic stamina. I'd win in a minute if that were the case, Merlin knows the Magicals don't like getting their hands dirty.
He still couldn't believe how out of shape most of them were even if their bodies weren't all that heavy. Most of them could last a few minutes, ten at the most, when it came to physically exerting themselves before they stopped or dropped. Those that could reach those higher times were, unsurprisingly, the Muggleborn. If it weren't for them, he reckoned the average lap would be impossible to calculate due to a lack of people to run them… to think they considered Quidditch an incredibly 'exciting' and 'impressive' sport when all it was and would ever be is general flying.
That skill was one he'd learned in his first year as easily as football and running. The weight-lifting he'd seldom done and the generally strenuous tasks he'd had to do for the Dursleys ensured that his upper body strength was more than sufficient for him to quickly manoeuvre the broom around. Sometimes, oftentimes really, he could do so better and with more agility than his older teammates or those on the other teams.
"There you are," Hermione's voice said, reaching his ears with exasperation and a tinge of breathlessness, the girl likely having torn around the grounds looking for him. "Ron and I found a book that may end up helping you. This next task may not have all that information known about it, but preparing by learning utility spells has never hurt anybody in the history of magic — come on, you've done your tenth lap by now unless you've gotten slower, I cast Tempus every day."
"How long do you think it was?" Harry asked as he cast a quick cleaning charm to remove his sweat and the debris that'd begun to smell fairly off-putting by this point, the rare heat of the day and sun ensuring that his nose paid for his daily routine.
"Three seconds quicker than a week ago and if you'd like to figure out last week's time, I'll tell you after we finish our studies for the day. This is entirely too important for us to make light of or avoid. Now that we're… better, I can go back to forcing you and Ron both to improve yourselves," Hermione shook her head, exasperated as she was earlier but this time with a smile on her face. "You'll be my good example, like always."
"I'll promise Ron a game of wizarding chess if he agrees to play a game of football with me later on — if not that, I'll take him to the pitch and make him run or fly with me. We both know he can't run for more than a minute," Harry said, scoffing as he thought of their mutual friend and his inability to do anything all that physical unless his life was in imminent danger; even then, Ron could be a bit too slow for Harry's comfort.
Hermione looked at him as if he'd grown two heads. "And you think I'm the one that's gone 'bloody mental' sometimes?" she asked, her hands doing the air quotations that the Muggles loved to use before she continued on speaking. "If I have to have you or somebody else come along just so he does and for a clear benefit to him such as not failing a year of Hogwarts, what makes you think you'll get him to exercise of his own free will? I'm not saying it's dumb either, my parents are dentists so I know a thing or two about staying healthy, but Ronald doesn't care."
Ronald… she must not be all that happy with him, that's the only time she refers to him by that version of his name.
"I'll tell him it'll help him get a bird," Harry answered easily enough, laughing when Hermione rolled her eyes and quicked her pace ever so slightly. "We both know that he'll do anything if he thinks it'll give him a chance with a pretty witch — speaking of pretty witches, when do you think you'll join me for a run in the afternoon? It's gorgeous, really."
Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "I missed you, but not enough that I'll avoid cursing you if you hit on me."
He raised his hands with a grin, nearly snickering when she sighed, fully ran her eyes over him and turned away with a slight tinge of red on her cheeks; he knew he still had it even if he'd been eating a bit more unhealthy than was usual for him.
Cedric was unmoving, on the ground and with blood pouring out of his nose. Harry had pushed the boy away from him when Wormtail had tried to cast a spell in their direction and while it had missed, sailing wide to their left, Cedric had been unlucky enough to hit one of the old gravestones. His head had cracked open, his nose had near-instantly broken but at the end of the day, the killing curse had missed its mark and Wormtail was fleeing with a bundle held close to his chest.
Harry's whole body felt weird and the feeling had been worse when Wormtail's — potential — baby had been closer to him, but that was over as soon as the coward had fled the field, his cauldron still just boiling a good ten feet or so away.
I wish I would've had the chance to beat the piss out of him for what he'd done to my parents, but it can wait, Harry thought to himself as he made his way over to Cedric to stem the flow of blood lest the older boy bleeds out, I'll definitely get my revenge for them, just on another day.
"You alright, Cedric?" Harry asked, waving his hand over the barely conscious form of his schoolmate.
Cedric didn't respond save for a groan of pain and a small thumbs-up, but that was good enough for Harry. As soon as he'd seen that, he called for the portkey and once more felt the pull of it. This time when they came to and their surroundings had fully materialised, he found that they were back inside of the Quidditch Pitch, his favourite place to be.
Dumbledore moved down to him, taking Cedric and hastily making his way out of the crowd with his wand in hand and Cedric's father trailing hot on his trail. Words would be had later when the other boy wasn't still in the realm of danger thanks to his wounds. In Harry's opinion, however, he'd won and it was time to cele—
There was a hand that shot out from the crowd and it pulled him away as quickly as it good, the familiar stump on the cobbled path instantly making Harry understand who it was that'd manhandled him; Professor Moody, and he looked peeved for some reason.
"What happened?" He all but demanded, his eyes looking down every hall or through the door of every room that they passed.
"I saw Wormtail with a bundle of something in his arms, but I couldn't make out what it was. He fled when I saved Cedric and made after him, all it took was a threatening posture and the promise that I'd beat the shite out of him," Harry said, openly laughing in the presence of a man he'd come to know loved that sort of thing.
"Was there anybody else? Did you feel anything?" Moody asked, his voice no less demanding and far from the normal tone that he used whilst speaking with his students.
In response to that, Harry straightened out his posture and rolled his shoulder blades, flexing the muscles that covered them. He did his arms next, satisfied with the bumps he could see through his shirt — that'd all been incredibly difficult to buildup thanks to the lack of a right proper gym here at Hogwarts. He sure as hell wouldn't lose his gains though, not when he looked so jacked every time he woke up and looked in the mirror.
"I felt like I had a headache and no, there was nobody else. I'd have taken them back here too, but only after I cuffed and beat the shite out of them for helping Wormtail," Harry answered truthfully, this time choosing to keep his mouth shut if Moody's mood continued to be awfully moody.
For Harry's sake, he hoped the man cleared up. He could recommend dropping alcohol and buying a Muggle bike as a new hobby to replace his older, worse one, but that'd probably go over about as well as a Muggleborn in the Slytherin dorm rooms.
Moody reached for his glass when a small noise reached their ears at the same time, but this time when he went in for a drink, he tipped the whole thing into the air but made no motion to swallow. He was empty, out of whatever whiskey he hadn't been sharing.
"I'll go ahead and get going, yeah Professor? Reckon I have a meeting to go to for my victory, then I fancy myself asking Fleur out — don't think she's that likely to say no," Harry said, adding more words but only within the safety of his mind. She likes bigger guys, not little boys like Ron… Merlin, they'd been at odds when that had happened but Harry still felt bad for the other bloke. It was like watching your best friend die in a Muggle movie.
Harry was pulled from his thinking when Moody turned to him, his eye falling to the floor and his face bubbling up as he reached for his wand with a snarl on his face. Soon, the man would have his wand out and that'd be the wraps on Harry's life, but he didn't really fancy that. Thus, with his earliest memories of Dudley in his head since it was his cousin where he'd learned this trick, he punched the man in the throat and brought a fist all the way around until it connected with his jaw. When he was done and dealt with, tied up and the Professors on their way thanks to a Patronus, he went back to thinking about Fleur.
Think I'll take her to a fancy restaurant and then carry her home, sounds like she's the type of witch that'd like that.
He laughed stupidly to himself and pressed his leg on the centre of fake Moody's chest, his calf muscle bulging out in victory as Harry's final thought raced through his mind as the Professor's pulled up; Merlin, I'm jacked.