A/N
Welcome back to Amidst Enchantments! I hope you enjoy what chapter 4 has to offer.
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Chapter 4 - The Hidden Refuge
"My- my name came out of the cup. I'm the fourth champion."
Neither Harry nor Fleur had an opportunity to say anything else to one another as the door behind him once more flew open, allowing a cacophony of sounds to flood in from the Great Hall. Harry moved towards the other champions, remaining right next to Fleur as the heads of each school, Bagman, Crouch, Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape entered the room.
"Extraordinary!" began Ludo Bagman, "Simply extraordinary. A fourth champion!"
Fleur stepped forwards slightly, taking a more protective stance in front of Harry. "And what is so extraordinary about this, Meester Bagman?" She asked, one eyebrow raised in challenge. "In what way is it good that someone who did not wish to take part in the tournament is now bound to it? Not to mention that 'Arry is still underage."
"Erm- Yes- Well," Bagman began, the wind taken out of his sails. "For all we know Harry could have entered his own name! After all, the restrictions were only put in place this year, there could have been a mistake."
"Yes, a mistake that Harry now has to pay for!" Fleur ground out in anger. Harry stepped forward and squeezed her hand.
"It's okay, Fleur," he said, looking into her eyes as she turned to face him questioningly. Her anger on his behalf warmed him, but he was more than capable of standing up for himself. Giving her a warm smile, his face turned icy as he turned to look at the rest of the room. "Let me make this clear. I did not put my name in the goblet. I did not and still have any wish to participate in this tournament. I am willing to swear an oath to this effect."
"How arrogant, Potter," spat Snape, "just like your-"
"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore cut in loudly. "You may go." The dungeon bat stormed from the room, the door flying back into its frame in his wake. "Why was he even here?" thought Harry.
Turning to Harry, Dumbledore spoke once more. "As I said to you in the Hall, Harry. We will of course look into this. I believe you when you say you didn't enter and as such, we do not require your oath." The headmaster looked at the staff around him challengingly though none argued, even if Karkaroff looked set to explode.
Madame Maxime looked unsure of her stance, her eyebrow raised as Fleur defended him. Harry thought she looked deep in thought at the moment.
"Now, how your name was entered is another matter," Dumbledore began, only to be interrupted as the door was thrown open once more, the wooden leg of Professor Moody clanking on the floor every other step as he approached the group.
"Sorry, Albus." Moody said of the interruption. "Confundus charm. Ruddy strong one at that. The age ward is intact and untampered with so his name must have been entered by a third party." Moody eyed Karkaroff suspiciously, his magical eye spinning in all directions. The subject of his scrutiny retreated quickly behind Krum, hands on his shoulders.
"Thank you, Alastor," Dumbledore nodded, turning towards Crouch. "Barty, what do you say?"
"The rules are absolute, Albus." The man's face was resolute and cold, as if uncaring of the situation. "The boy's name has come out of the goblet and so he must compete."
Harry's heart sank once more, Fleur's hand in his own tethering him to the situation as he contemplated what this meant for him.
Protests sprang from Karkaroff at the announcement. "One more bite of the apple for Hogwarts then, eh? I demand we resubmit the names and draw more champions for Durmstrang and Beauxbatons!"
"Whilst a sound suggestion, Igor, the goblet has gone out and will not be relit until the next tournament." Dumbledore offered calmly. "Its magicks are very clear on this."
Spitting on the floor Karkaroff half bellowed, "And Durmstrang shall not be competing in it!"
"So be it then, but for now you must remain lest your champion stand alone," Crouch replied, brow furrowed, impatient with the posturing. "There is to be a weighing of wands on the 17th of November. The first task will take place one week after it and more information shall reach you all at the ceremony."
The words rang through Harry's head like a distant bell. He wanted nothing more than some quiet to plan his approach to the year and the tournament, but Karkaroff once more spoke up.
"Come, Viktor, we are leaving," The Durmstrang contingent strode from the room, Krum shooting him a curious look as they did so. Harry idly noticed no noise coming from the Hall as the door shut softly.
"Goodbye everyone, we must be off too," Bagman said, gesturing to himself and Crouch, who offered a nod before departing behind his colleague.
"I shall offer you some time, Harry, but I will speak to you about this matter soon." were Dumbledore's parting words, Professor McGonagall offering him a sympathetic look before leaving also, whispering fervently to Dumbledore as they disappeared from sight.
"Come, Fleur. We must be going." The deep timbre of Madam Maxime sounded to them in her native tongue.
"No, Madame. I have to speak with Harry," Fleur refused, face resolute. "I will be along soon, I promise."
One eyebrow raised imperiously, the towering woman stared at her student for a moment before she nodded sharply and left the room.
A nervous cough interrupted Harry before he could say anything to Fleur. The duo turned to meet the gaze of Cedric whose face was a little flushed at interrupting them.
"I don't know what is going on Harry, but I believe you. No one did a few years ago and that backfired spectacularly. You've never lied to us before and I can't see why you would start now." said Cedric. His face was solemn, his eyes sympathetic as he imparted his thoughts. "I'll be telling Hufflepuff what happened so hopefully they don't react too badly but that being said…"
"Yeah, I know. Thanks Cedric," Harry replied. "I've weathered the school's attention before though, I'll be okay when I probably have to do it again. I'm sorry that I stole your moment."
Cedric nodded, appraising him. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry you've been brought in against your will, Harry." The sixth year nodded to them both once more before leaving them alone, the crackle of the fireplace behind them the only noise.
Harry met Fleur's eyes, the danger and implications of his entrance must have taken root in her thoughts if the worry in them was anything to go by.
"I meant what I said before, 'Arry. We will get through this together," she smiled wanly at him before becoming more gathered and serious. "We'll need to begin training immediately, and it definitely won't be easy. We'll need to cram in as much as we can." The last part said with an eyebrow raised at him.
"No complaints from me," Harry said, hands raised placatingly. "I need every single advantage I can get. Nothing is off the table."
"Bon," Fleur smiled, her face brighter than before. "We shall find somewhere to work tomorrow then?"
"Yeah, it sounds good. Shall we meet at 9? I feel like tonight and tomorrow morning could be fairly draining for us both," Harry offered, receiving affirmation from his French friend. "Let's head back then, I get the feeling I'll be on the receiving end of a welcome party."
Fleur's eyes flashed dangerously in response as they walked through the Great Hall, her face lit gently by the floating candles. "They'd better not! You've done nothing to deserve this!"
"That doesn't seem to matter. I've known since first year how fickle people can be. So much for 'your House is like your family.' Besides, their opinions don't matter to me anymore and I probably won't have time to worry about it."
Upon reaching the Entrance Hall, they turned to face one another. "Goodni-" was as far as Harry got before he found himself with an armful of Fleur, her head resting gently on his head. Shaking off his stupor he wrapped his arms around her and patted her back in a way he hoped was consoling.
"I'm worried for you, 'Arry. We both know the reasons for your entrance can't be good."
Unable to disagree, Harry replied, "Then we'll just have to make sure I am better, Fleur. Much better than I need to be to survive the tournament alone."
The finality in his words caused Fleur to calm down. "You're right," she said, brows knitted as she held him at arm's length. "We will both be better. We will get through this together." They gazed fervently at each other, neither one wanting to break the moment.
At last, the French witch drew him in once more, embracing him warmly. Bussing his cheek softly she murmured a soft "Bonne nuit, 'Arry," before disappearing into the grounds.
Harry's mind was racing as he slowly traversed Hogwarts' many corridors and passageways. His immediate plan was to research the tournament more. An oversight on his part, he realised, as most books in the library were probably withdrawn at this point. Harry's thoughts turned towards his own abilities.
"Transfiguration, Charms, Ancient Runes and Defence…" he thought out loud. Those were his greatest strengths. He'd be a fool not to look into their more esoteric studies in order to glean what he could. "Potions, Arithmancy and Herbology…" his thoughts continued. The three subjects with which he was entirely proficient at but held no great love for. He cursed his short sightedness in not reading much past what was required in those subjects.
"But that's tomorrow's problem," he muttered, rounding the corner to see the portrait of the Fat Lady blocking his way into Gryffindor Tower.
"Balderdash," he intoned, stepping through the narrow entrance to the Common Room.
Whatever activity was going on in the room halted. Everyone had turned towards him, and their faces were as he expected. Distrust, suspicion, hostility and anger. The upper years seem to have rallied around Angelina, the one most of the house was supporting in her bid to become champion. Ron and Hermione stood amongst his old year mates, their faces a dichotomy of emotion. One turning as red as his hair and the other a cool mask of silent cold distrust.
"Well?" came the question from Angelina, voice shaking in fury.
"Well, what?" replied Harry, standing his ground defiantly. "I don't know what you want me to say? I didn't enter my name."
He knew he would soon tire of repeating himself, but his voice was unwavering in his own defence.
"And why are we supposed to believe you? Just admit that you cheated your way in, Harry. No one sees you around here anymore, you barely talk to your own friends," she gestured angrily to the rest of the quidditch team and then to Ron and Hermione, "and you've gone and skipped two years of classes. For all we know you've learnt something that would easily get you past that age line."
The noises of assent from those present only served to fuel the fire in Harry's stomach.
"I have nothing to prove to you all," he began, the anger in his voice evident to even himself. "These people were meant to be his friends?" he thought before continuing, "I am telling you I didn't put my name in that cup. I don't need the fame nor the glory in case you had forgotten," he said, voice dripping in sarcasm.
"If you don't believe me then okay. That's fine by me, you didn't believe me two years ago and look how that turned out," Harry spun around after his parting remark and strode back through the portrait he had entered only moments ago. There was no reason for him to remain there any longer.
Taking a moment to steady himself, he took a deep breath before raising his chin and striding off into the castle. He needed to let off steam and find somewhere to stay for the night.
He hadn't made it three steps before his name was called from behind.
"Please, Harry, stop!" Hermione said, face flushed, whether from chasing after him or anger, Harry was unsure.
"What is it? Couldn't you have stood up for me back there?" Harry replied.
"Why would we?" came Ron's snarky reply. "You couldn't even tell your best friends that you'd entered yourself."
"And I told you, Ron, and everyone in the Common Room. I did not enter myself into the tournament. What reason could I possibly have?" he turned to Hermione, "Do you not believe me either then?"
Her response was cool when it came echoing Ron's own, "Why would we? You've given us no reason to, Harry. You skipped two years and left us behind. We barely see you anymore and if we do it's to rub it in our faces that you've moved past us. Either that or to rub it in our face that you have better friends, like that Veela." She spat the last bit like there was something foul in her mouth.
Harry stepped forward. "Don't you dare put this on Fleur, Hermione. I see the way you look at her when Ron can't control himself. That isn't on her, it's entirely on him. Fleur has never used her allure actively around us. Don't put your anger on someone else and just admit that this is about me."
Hermione's face twisted in anger. "You're right. It is about you. You've changed Harry. You're so much less without us. You never could have done what we have over the years without us and now you've cheated your way through classes. I mean if I couldn't sit my OWLs early, how could someone like you?"
Harry's face was as if carved from stone. He spun on his heel and stalked away from them, ignoring Ron's parting "That's right, walk away! You're nothing without us!"
Several corridors away Harry stopped to collect himself. His insides were roiling, and he felt so pent up. Striding back forward angrily in front of a portrait of a strange wizard teaching trolls to tap dance, he wished he had somewhere he could release his anger.
After his third pass he stopped, eyes screwed up in sheer frustration he rested his hand on the wooden wall. "Wooden wall?" Harry's eyes opened as he took a couple of steps back. Large wooden double doors stood before him, ornate stone gilding framed the doors, with gleaming bronze handles that beckoned him to open. Stepping forward and twisting open the handle he stepped inside.
The inside of the room looked like… "A batter's cage?" he thought, baffled at the room before him. A line of porcelain objects stood at one side of a thin, waist-height stand, a steel baseball bat on the other. The surprise of what he'd found had actually calmed Harry slightly. Why would a rage cage like he'd seen on one of Dudley's shows be here, at Hogwarts? "It couldn't hurt. Could it?" he thought.
Several minutes later he lowered the bat, breathing heavily he surveyed the destruction he'd unleashed. Pieces of porcelain laid strewn all over the room before him. The fact that most of the porcelain looked like the 'fine China' that his aunt Petunia made him dig out when he was younger hadn't gone unnoticed. "But why would this room know something like that? It seemed to know I was angry and wanted to let off steam."
Now returned to a more level head, Harry began to process what had just happened. His friendships with those in Gryffindor were almost certainly ruined, there was no way he would just forgive them as he had in his second year. A sudden thought entered his mind. "I have nowhere to stay now. I need somewhere to sleep tonight."
No sooner had he finished his train of thought the room shifted so quickly he felt slightly queasy. The walls expanded outwards, as the porcelain and the batting change disappeared. A plush carpet appeared under his feet and a four-poster bed appeared before him. A lamp on either side of the bed bathed the room in warm, gentle light.
"Does the room respond to my needs?" he wondered. That could prove to be invaluable, especially with what he could be facing in the tournament. He really needed to learn as much about the tournament as he could. Once more the room reacted to his thoughts, a small table appearing before him, a newspaper and a book on it. Picking up the newspaper first he read the title: "TRI-WIZARD DISASTER - JUDGES MAIMED" scanning the first two lines he learned that the heads of each house were severely injured, and the tournament set to be cancelled. His eyes flicked up to the date, February 1792. His attention turned to the book and a smile grew on his face.
"The Tri-Wizard Tournament: A History" by April Rathmore
"Yeah," Harry thought, "this could work."
A flick of his wand showed that it was 10 o'clock at night. "I can afford an hour or two, I guess," thought Harry, settling on the edge of the bed to skim the chapter on the wand weighing and the first task. The author stated that the wand weighing was more to give the press a chance to document the champions than anything else. The first tasks of tournaments previous to the book's publication were neatly summarised in a table but expanded on later. The vastly overwhelming majority involved magical creatures, "But that's not to say it'll be the case this time round." Interspersed throughout the list were first tasks involving everything from duelling to academic challenges.
Skimming on a bit further and resolving to finish the book properly, Harry set it to one side and thought about the room helping him with another challenge that had presented itself. "Where will I stay from now on?" he fretted. "Would McGonagall force me back to the tower? Would anyone even tell her? They're probably happy to be rid of me."
After pondering for a moment Harry resolved to do the latter, thinking of his next issue. How would he get his belongings back from his dorm? Once again, the room surged to help him. The newspaper disappeared with a pop from the table, replaced by another book.
"The Art of the Unseen" was a slim, black book with silver writing. It lacked any indication of the author but upon flicking through its Harry came across what would help him in the meantime. Perfecting the disillusionment charm had been on his list for a while now. Despite being an OWL level charm, perfecting it would render the caster invisible without the distortion in the air present from a basic cast.
The book gave several alterations to the incantation to push the user towards mastery. By lengthening the starting flick and rotating his wand on the sharp downstroke before tapping his head the spell would be more effective at the refraction of light around him as well as taking the user's movement into account quicker, lessening the distortions.
Swishing his wand and bringing it sharply down above him, Harry clearly cast the spell, "Invisibilium tota" The telltale sensation of an egg being splattered on his head continued to roll down his entire body. But looking at his body his clothes were clearly visible, his wand appearing to float in mid-air. He needed to visualise the effects more, making his intent better known. Holly wood whipped through the air once more as Harry visualised not just him but his entire person disappearing completely.
Looking down at his feet he watched his shoes disappear, the floor beneath them present. The first few minutes were utterly disorientating. Knowing where your limbs should be but your eyes telling you that they aren't there made coordination difficult. Eventually he was able to walk around the room without much difficulty. The air distortions from the spell were only ever so slightly present and were small enough to be put aside as a trick of the light by most students.
Dispelling the charm with another flick of his wrist, Harry fell backwards on the bed, staring up at the canvassed roof. Closing his eyes, he thought of his next plan of action. "First, I need to get my stuff back. Then I'll need to stash it here, it'll be hidden but I'll need to ensure it's safe. But how?" Unbeknownst to Harry another book had appeared on the table. "Then I'll need to get stronger for the tournament. I need to shore up my knowledge and develop my skill." He set an alarm for 6 am, early enough that he could sneak into his dorm. Removing his clothes and getting into bed he quickly drifted into the realm of Morpheus. He hadn't even noticed the small stone door that had appeared silently along one wall.
A sharp, intermittent buzzing beneath his pillow woke Harry suddenly. Swinging out of bed he quickly got dressed and made his way back to Gryffindor Tower. He cast the disillusionment charm before rounding the corner and whispering the password to the Fat Lady. The portrait swung aside, revealing the entrance and he crept silently through it, across the deserted Common Room and up the stairs.
Inching open the wooden door to the fourth-year dormitory he entered, making his way to his old bed. Surprisingly, it was as he'd left it, he wouldn't have put it past some members of the house messing with his stuff. Yet the last book he'd read resting on the bedside table, a half drank glass of water beside it, bed neatly made with a pile of clothes folded on top of it. Brandishing his wand, he moved his trunk on top of the covers and waving his wand like a conductor he began silently packing. The lid of the trunk closed with a soft thud but looking around him no one had noticed. Two taps to Harry's initials on the trunk saw it rendered weightless and so he quickly shrunk it to half its size and disillusioned it as well.
Harry made a beeline for the room, his footsteps remaining soft on the hard flagstone as he stopped in front of the tap-dancing trolls. "How do I open it? Placing the trunk down against the wall he desperately searched his brain for what he had been doing last night. He remembered pacing in the corridor and tried it once more, his third pass causing the door to appear. Logging that information for later he gathered his trunk and entered.
Unshrinking and placing his trunk at the foot of his new bed, Harry noticed a new addition from the night before. A dark red book with gold writing sat on the same table from before. Picking it up he placed it quickly back down upon seeing a loaded but simple title.
"Blood Magic"
Much of what Harry knew of blood magic was through things he had read or learnt, all of them second hand sources and none of it good. Outlawed by the Ministry as dark magic, it certainly wasn't taught at Hogwarts. "But I need all the help I can get," thought Harry, "and I don't need to practise the magic, do I?"
Hesitantly picking it up once more he opened the dry, thick paper to the first chapter titled "Basic protections involving Blood Magic: Area Protections." The chapter had a brief introduction to the art, talking about the scale of the magic and its strength. The only sacrifice in blood magic was blood and the size of sacrifice was tied through arithmantic equations to the strength and purpose of the defence.
Handily, the book had a section on the warding of buildings, rooms and containers. The principle was equal across the objects due to the similar nature of things being kept inside them. By knowing the volume of the space required to be warded, arithmancy allowed the calculation of the amount of blood required to be sacrificed. Thankfully for the warding of space, even in the case of magically expanded space like his trunk, Harry only needed to account for the physical space it occupied. Tying the opening of the trunk to his blood was a very simple enchantment that would only require a small rune to be drawn in his own blood at each corner of the trunk.
He resolved to protect his belongings, not wanting to take a chance with the few prized possessions that he had. "Besides, my own pain and blood is a small sacrifice to make for it isn't it?"
It wouldn't hold up to serious attention from the likes of Dumbledore, but it would definitely keep his things safe for now, the simplicity of the ward not negating the strength of it. Harry got to work, removing a couple of crystal phials from his trunk. Casting the weakest cutting charm he could at his palm, he winced at the sharp pain, blood flowing freely from his palm. Casting a quick episkey he drew the runes shown in the book in each corner of his trunk. His wand brought forth the blood from the phials like a quill, neatly tracing the curved outline of the runes as he drew them.
The hardest part of this step required the careful, even application of the blood to the trunk so that no blood taken was wasted and each rune contained an equal amount of blood. Finishing his work, he placed the phials away and spoke the incantation "sanguinis nexus aperire." He felt a sharp tug on his own core, a sharp pain almost pulling his attention from the task at hand. Yet, upon the last syllable being spoken Harry had to cover his eyes as the trunk glowed a bright red colour. It slowly faded, revealing his trunk. The blood runes had completely disappeared from the polished wood, signifying the success and activation of the protection.
Harry sank back to the floor, taking a deep breath at his exertion. His head rolling to one side, his eyes caught sight of a door that he hadn't noticed before. The plain door sat in a stone archway that looked entirely out of place in the smooth painted walls of the current version of the room. Pulling himself to his feet he cautiously walked to the door. "The room hasn't steered me wrong yet," Harry reasoned as he pushed open the door with his foot, wand held aloft.
Within was a small stone chamber, lit by two torches in metal sconces. They illuminated a large stone altar, upon which sat a large stack of parchment, sandwiched between thick pieces of leather forming a rudimentary tome. Harry could almost feel the hum of magic coming from the altar and as he neared it, he saw why. A shimmering almost transparent dome surrounded the book. In front of it, carved into the stone were eight small rectangles, beside which sat eight wooden blocks, a symbol and word carved upon each. The other side of the rectangles were carved into the top of the altar:
"Amidst enchanted sigil, hear my decree,
One step unlocks the treasure you see.
In flames of change, the core shall gleam,
Chaos last, completes the scheme.
But heed this well, a sole chance to roam,
One chance to reveal the hidden tome."
There were eight blocks, each with a different alchemical or elemental meaning. Looking back at the carvings in the stone he saw that they were arrayed such that there would be one block in the middle surrounded in a circle by the other 7, two blocks below it, one either side and three above. Looking back at the blocks, he picked up the one symbolising fire. It had a depiction of the element on it that shimmered in the light of the chamber. Placing it in the centre slot, the wood burned away leaving the symbol behind which itself then sank into the stone. The central role of fire seemed obvious to Harry as it represented the flux of the universe, signifying transformation and change yet tying all together as one.
He imagined the creators carefully crafting the riddle, infusing it with layers of meaning that extended beyond the mere arrangement of runes. "By invoking the imagery of fire, water, air, and the delicate balance of chaos and order," he thought, "the riddle invites the solver to explore the very essence of magic itself."
Harry recognized the riddle as a bridge between the tangible and the abstract, a way to connect the practical actions of placing the runes with the broader concepts they represented. "It's not just about solving a puzzle," he mused, "but about unravelling the interconnectedness of magic's fundamental forces."
The idea that he had only one attempt to solve the puzzle added an extra layer of weight to the challenge. "It's as if they're saying," he contemplated aloud, "that this isn't just a test of wit, but a test of insight and intuition. A single chance to prove that I truly grasp the intricacies of the runes and their meanings."
The next three Harry placed symbolised the other base elements. The water rune was placed in the top left carving, earth, it's opposite in the top right. Fundamentally opposing each other, water represented fluidity and adaptability whereas earth represented stability and grounding. Bridging the gap between them he placed the rune for air.
"Well, let's hope I'm right in these placements…" Harry said, slightly worried at the lack of spare blocks.
On the left side of the fire rune, he placed the block for light and on the right, darkness. Again, opposing natures of enlightenment and the unexplored. Below these he placed the last two blocks representing the base structure of the universe, order and chaos. Placing the last block, he could appreciate the symbolism of the overall scheme and was keen to see what sort of knowledge required such an involved protection.
As the final block fell into place, the eight rectangles emanated a deep violet light, resonating with the ward in an eerie harmony. Its once transparent form now shimmered with the same enchanting violet hue. The light began to throb, its pulsating rhythm accelerating with each passing moment, causing the protective barrier encasing the book to sizzle and fade. With bated breath, Harry watched as the ward dissolved, leaving the book behind, sitting innocently in the middle of the altar.
Gently prying open the aged cover, Harry's heart raced as his eyes met a sight beyond his wildest imagination. Page after page unveiled a mesmerising tapestry of warnings and instructions, weaving together disparate branches of magic into a seamless, enchanting dance. The text unveiled the tantalising promise of power, wisdom and pure magic, all bound within the three rituals inscribed on the ancient pages. Harry had stumbled upon the gateway to unimaginable enhancements, but the tantalising offer of forbidden knowledge now hung in the balance, tempting him to make a decision that could irrevocably shape the path of his future.
Fin
Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a review with suggestions for the future of the fic. I'm always looking for fresh ideas moving forward. Going forward I want to make clear that this work will be fairly angst free, in more of a plot with fluff sort of way.
Take care,
SOB
