Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots, and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership.
Acknowledgements: Thank you to my editor Athena Hope, as well as my betas 3CP, Fezzik, Luq707, Raven0900, Regress, Thanos, and Yoshi89 for their work on this story.
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Harry Potter and the Conjoining of Paragons
By ACI100
Chapter 26: Dread on the Wind
April 3, 1943
Hogsmeade
10:58 AM
Spring had arrived in the Scottish highlands. The wind was milder, the air warmer, the ground no longer covered in snow. It was instead damp from the season's rain and coated in a thick layer of mud that pulled at the feet of the students moving through the bustling town of Hogsmeade.
"I was excited for this trip," Marianna grumbled, looking up towards the rain-filled sky. Raindrops pounded against the carriage's roof as they neared the village, sounding like a hundred frantic knocks upon an old oak door.
"It's just water," Lestrange scoffed. "It isn't like it's made from poison." The look on Marianna's face suggested she thought otherwise, though she argued no longer — probably because the carriage had come to a stop and they were all filing out one after the other.
Harry thought the girl might have a point as the mud squelched beneath his feet and rain wetted his hair. He pulled up the hood of his cloak, but he knew that before long it would be soaked through and weigh him down.
Thunder boomed somewhere off in the distance as the remaining members of their group exited the carriage. Harry found himself forcefully reminded of the Quidditch match against Hufflepuff near the beginning of his third year. It was a good thing there were no dementors this time around. He had realized not long ago that the thought of Ron and Hermione no longer sent him spiralling, but he still feared how he might react to the presence of dementors. He could fight them now — that was not the problem — but they would likely dredge up those memories in more chilling detail.
"Just be grateful we can be out here at all," said Rosier, the last to step down from the carriage.
"What do you mean? It's a basic right of Hogwarts students. It has been for centuries."
"The basic rights of Hogwarts students may change if Grindelwald targets England. The whispers are getting louder, you know."
"I've heard," Lestrange added. "Father says Grindelwald might try something this summer. Something more serious than his attack on Diagon."
"I'd wait too if I were him," Marianna grumbled, glaring one last time at the sky before their group began moving further into the village.
Harry wondered as they walked whether there was actual evidence to support Rosier's rumour or whether his father had just been blindly guessing. People had said for months that Grindelwald may attack England if his expedition failed in Russia. His forces had retreated almost three months ago, yet there had been no sign of them anywhere near English soil. Harry had begun believing many of the whispers, but now he was sceptical again. Grindelwald never attacked England in his own time and he was beginning to suspect that would not change now.
Marianna was doing her best to hide in her cloak before long and soon after, even Harry shivered. The cold vanished before his shudder finished, water suddenly rolling off his cloak and pooling at his feet.
"Nifty spell," said Rosier, nodding at Riddle, who just smiled. It's like the spell Hermione used, but better.
The spell extended their time outside once it had been cast on everyone, but they still did not linger long before ducking inside the Three Broomsticks.
The pub was full to bursting with Hogwarts students. Harry thought more of them would stay back at the castle, but he supposed with the Easter holidays coming fast, now was the last time to explore before the break.
I'm sure having a psychopath romancing the school probably helped get people out of the castle, too. It had been more than a month since the lone attack and the general buzz had died down, but the shadowy threat still hung high above them all. Some students whispered that the Heir would strike once again before the break, sending much of the population home with fear in their hearts.
Harry, for his part, had been no more successful in working through the complex web of contradictions surrounding Riddle and her possible involvement. Again, he longed for the invisibility cloak. It would have made following her much easier. She would still have access to the Homenum Revelio Charm, but he might still have gambled had he possessed the cloak.
The most he could do was let slip to the professors how effective Mandrake Draught would be in curing Myrtle of her plight. The draught was apparently more obscure in these times, being a relatively recent discovery. None of the professors had mentioned it, and though Harry had considered doing so, he could not decide how to proceed without looking suspicious.
The sound of drinks being placed on the table drove his more abstract thoughts away. The pub was so full that its bartender was in constant demand, so Riddle and Cassie had gone up to the bar and retrieved the group's drinks.
Cassie placed Harry's down in front of him, but Harry thought he saw something odd about the motion. His eyes narrowed as he reached for the bottle, spotting a slight protrusion underneath it. He paused and waited until the group was distracted before lifting the bottle and snatching the roll of parchment beneath. Only Cassie met his eyes, giving him a single nod before turning back to her conversation with Riddle.
April 5, 1943
The Defence Against the Dark Arts Classroom
1:10 PM
Harry had once been very anxious about taking Defence Against the Dark Arts with the fifth years. Indeed, he'd had good reasons, but now, Harry found it the most pleasant of his classes. Not because of the students that were there, but because of the students who were not. Seeing Dorea was always painful. Harry had hoped after their schism that time would begin healing those wounds. Perhaps it still would, but if so, its process was slow and would come only after much pain.
The note Cassie slipped Harry turned out to be from Arcturus. Harry had seen the signature before reading the note and, for a moment, hope had welled up inside him. The actual contents were far from a death blow, but they were certainly not as promising as Harry might have hoped. Leave it up to a Black to respond in such vague terms. The bastard might as well have ignored him for all the good his reply did at clarifying things.
Today's double Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson was their duelling session for the month of April. Harry had duelled almost everyone in the class throughout the course of the year. The only students remaining were Cassie and Riddle. Last month, Harry had duelled Felix Rosier whilst Riddle had duelled Cassie. Cassie had lasted longer against Riddle than anyone else, but the duel had still not been competitive.
Harry had expected his own duel with Rosier to be a battle reminiscent of the one he'd had months ago with Dolohov, but he had been mistaken.
Rosier — who was probably the fourth most dangerous duellist in his year after Riddle, Cassie, and Dolohov — had posed Harry few problems at all. He was swift and precise with a keen mind for duelling. His mind was Rosier's greatest weapon — his spell selection was textbook, his positioning perfect.
None of that had been enough. A pack of rabid dogs transfigured from Merrythought's desk Harry had transfigured Merrythought's desk caught him off guard, then there had been the floor, constantly shifting beneath his feet, snaking up in stony spires to entrap his legs.
There had been whispers after that duel. He recognized them as the same kinds of whispers that followed Riddle around the castle — the same kinds of rumours that had followed him back when the school thought him the Heir of Slytherin.
Harry hated them once, but now, they excited him. There had been plenty of signs throughout the year marking his progress, but this one had a special sort of meaning to him. Others were taking notice, and not just those who spent the most time with him. It was better they feared him than looked down on him. If they compared him to Riddle, maybe it would give her pause in the future. Perhaps it even meant that Harry really was closing the gap fast enough and that, soon, he would be able to compete with her.
Today might well be the day Harry found out for himself. Riddle wondered about it, too; Harry could see it in her posture. She sat a notch stiffer than usual, though she did a good job of hiding it. Was she nervous? Did she wonder whether or not she could best him?
"Today will be the penultimate rounds of duelling," Merrythought told them immediately after taking the roll. "The entirety of June will be spent preparing for the O.W.L. exams."
Everyone in the room held their collective breath, waiting for the bracket to be read. It appeared Harry and Riddle were not the only ones tense with anticipation.
Merrythought smiled — a rarity for her. "There are two undefeated students remaining, as you all seem to know. They will not duel today. That match is one I am selfishly saving for the finale. The two will duel at the end of class next month. Miss Riddle will duel Master Dolohov today, and Master Pavonis will duel Miss Black."
Cassiopeia Black — this was going to be an interesting fight indeed. Harry used the word fight because, against Cassie, that was what it would be. She played dirty and was not afraid to use questionable magic if she thought herself able to get away with it. Harry knew from his past duel with Dolohov how easily that sort of behaviour could escalate things, so he mentally prepared himself for the worst.
Merlin, he had been so fixated on the prospect of duelling Riddle that he had spared Cassie no mind. She was plenty dangerous in her own right. If Harry was not careful, only Riddle would enter their clash unbeaten.
Cassie was the soundest duellist he'd yet faced. She was like a blend of Dolohov and Rosier — offensively-minded, but with sharp fundamentals and much self-control. She would not let herself get out of position, but nor would she sit back and let him find his rhythm. There were no obvious weaknesses this time — no easy path to victory.
Merlin, she looks determined. The first pair of students had started duelling and most were watching keenly as Rosier took out his frustration from last month's loss. Cassie just remained glaring at Harry, who felt another stare and turned to meet Riddle's eyes. She looked from him to Cassie with a contemplative expression and finally, Harry understood.
This was about impressing Riddle. Cassie remembered the praise Riddle had given Harry that first night after the Heir's attack and sought to steal Riddle's attention all away from him. She was the most loyal of them to Riddle and, at times, like her shadow. That's an annoyingly powerful motivator; she's going to fight hard.
The duels stretched on longer than ever before. This was relatively normal. Every session they had grew longer. Part of this was the general increase in skill level, but Harry suspected there was more at play. He remembered the way Charlus had spoken about professional duelling and how some contests could go on forever. He had said it had more to do with skill — the more two people duelled, the closer they often became. His duels with Harry had proven as much; even though no one in the room had duelled the same combatant more than once, Harry knew all of them watched every duel carefully. They probably all had a feel for each other's style and had therefore begun planning for future opponents.
Dolohov did not seem to plan for anyone. He fought the same way regardless of the opponent. Even against Riddle, he did his best to blitz forward with a barrage of precise, offensive strikes. Riddle defended using mostly Transfiguration, widening the window for each counter and stripping Dolohov of his wand before long. It was less magically impressive than most of her previous duels, but the efficiency with which she took Dolohov apart was startling. She had decided to show a different facet of her game today. Harry realized after a moment that she had duelled much like him. Movement, transfiguration, diversion — Riddle had played his game and won.
She smiled at him on the way back to her seat. That sealed it. She was trying to goad him into matching her style, which tended to be overwhelming opponents with elaborate magic they were unprepared for. Harry bit his lip. If Riddle wanted him to do it, it was probably a bad idea. That logic felt sound, but overwhelming Cassiopeia was exactly what he planned to do and Harry still had a Gryffindor streak a mile wide.
He pondered his approach even as he stood facing Cassie — not until Merrythought called for the duel to commence did Harry decide to accept Riddle's challenge.
He dove to avoid an array of curses fired as soon as the duel began. Cassie had wasted no time and had attacked with a series of spells that could best be described as shady.
Fine, Harry thought, no holding back then.
The floor split at his feet, stones rising up to defend against her next barrage. This was something Dumbledore had shown him during their last lesson. The Transfiguration Professor had begun using combat-based teachings as incentives for Harry to complete tasks.
The stones perfectly intercepted Cassie's volley and with a wave of his wand, Harry sent them hurtling back towards her, morphing first into a flock of ravens, then into a halo of arrows. Cassie did not make the same mistake Charlus had months ago. She answered with a blazing stream of fire that choked the room with smoke and sent an unpleasant prickle of hair-searing heat up Harry's front as the flames drew near.
He let it come close, swishing his wand at the last possible second and taking control of the fire, moulding it into a flaming whip that he pulled back behind him, then lashed towards Cassiopeia, whose eyes had gone wide. It had been Charlus who taught him that overpowering someone's will and taking control of their creation was possible. He had done it to a flock of birds, sending them back towards Harry and following them with arrows. That had actually been where Harry got the idea to combine them.
Cassie made the mistake of diving to the side. Harry forced the whip to split with some difficulty, sending a tendril of fire back towards Cassie. She grunted with pain as one of her pant legs blazed.
Harry knew Merrythought would stop the duel any second if it continued, but he didn't plan for that to happen. The floor cracked again, but this time the stones wriggled around Cassie, trapping her arms and legs and effectively pinning her to the floor.
Harry stood in shock as the adrenaline began to ebb. Surely, there would be a lecture coming for escalating the duel, but he was beyond caring.
Had he just done that?
Some of that magic wasn't anything he had ever tried. Sure, he had known it was all possible, but to pull it off the way he had? Merlin, he really did have a gift for underestimating himself. Dumbledore might not have been directly teaching him much combat-based Transfiguration yet, but Harry was learning that most concepts could be extrapolated and used in situations outside their intended scope.
The class was completely silent, but Harry ignored all but one of them as his eyes searched for Riddle.
She was sitting at her desk with her hands folded, eyes unblinkingly watching him. He held her stare until she smiled lightly and dipped her head before turning her attention to the now irate Professor Merrythought.
Harry almost leapt for joy. Finally, he'd won a round.
April 9, 1943
Horace Slughorn's Office
9:44 PM
The school was abuzz with tales of Harry's performance before the day was at its end. The stories only grew wilder as the hours bled into days. Harry had even heard some first year whispering about how he had conjured a battalion of flaming warriors to do his bidding when he passed by. He thought that sounded like a good idea, though it was miles beyond his capabilities right now. The flaming whip had been difficult, and he had almost lost control when sending an individual tendril towards Cassie who, for her part, had been surprisingly pleasant with Harry following the duel.
Others in the group had begun treating him somewhat differently. Mulciber had almost stopped scowling at him whenever Riddle wasn't looking, and Rosier engaged him in conversation almost as often as he did Riddle. Dolohov was unchanged; tense, unyielding, and quietly seething any time the two of them conversed.
One person who had thankfully not changed one bit was Elena. She had only smiled and congratulated him when he told her exactly what had happened. That was one thing about Elena. She never looked surprised any time Harry pulled off something monumental. She just smiled and went about her business as if such things were expected.
Elena was accompanying him tonight for yet another Slub Club meeting — the final one before spring break. The holidays were set to begin that next morning, with the Hogwarts Express taking all interested students back to London. Harry had elected to stay behind at Hogwarts once again. The Fawleys really were kind for offering, but he could not afford to ease up on his practice — not when he was beginning to see such rapid improvements.
During Yule, Harry had been tense and waiting for Riddle to make her move. He had spent those holidays living in fear, but now, he felt excited. There would be more time to practice with Charlus, and he had sent a letter earlier today inquiring as to whether Dumbledore may be able to offer an extra lesson or two during the break. He was still painfully aware Riddle was a cut above him on a magical level, but he was riding the high of that Defence lesson — even if Charlus had gotten the better of him just last night. It was difficult to be upset about that when their duels had been so close lately.
Slughorn was at his best that evening, leading Harry around the room like a prized trophy and raving about how he would be the nation's next Transfiguration master. Harry glanced to his side any time the professor made such claims. Riddle was annoyingly persistent in following him tonight. Even during his brief respites, she shadowed him and Elena. She looked unbothered by Slughorn's remarks any time Harry glanced her way. If anything, she had been even more talkative since the last set of duels, and certainly touchier.
"My feet are killing me," Elena muttered when they were allowed another break. She used it to take a seat at the nearest table, with both Harry and Riddle following suit.
Harry allowed himself a smirk despite Riddle's looming presence to his left. "I told you those shoes were a bad idea. What made you wear them, anyway?"
"She likes the extra height they offer," Riddle said before Elena could answer. Harry thought it was a quip, but he saw her blush. Now that he thought about it, Elena was one of the shorter members of their group. Harry had grown these past few months and was now noticeably taller than her. Most of the fifth-year boys were several inches taller than Harry, Cassie was tall for a girl, and Riddle was taller still.
"Here," said Riddle before Harry could devise a reply, waving her wand towards Elena, who actually sighed with something resembling content.
"That's better," she breathed.
Riddle smiled. "It's an obscure charm and mostly useless, but it's a nice relief on evenings like this."
Elena nodded and eyed the nearest table of drinks. Harry would have offered to fetch them, but leaving Elena alone with Riddle would be a special kind of cruelty. She stood and excused herself to fetch water a moment later, leaving Harry alone with Riddle instead.
"You ought to be more observant," she said once Elena was gone.
He frowned. "More observant about what? Elena being insecure about her height?"
Riddle smiled. "No, the fact that one of the house elves has been watching you all night."
Harry blinked. "Which one?"
Riddle gestured to a creature floating a tray of pastries above its head. It was indeed stealing a glance at him from beneath the tray. "I should also point out that the elf does not belong to Hogwarts."
"How can you possibly know that?" asked Harry.
"I have an exceptional memory and am about as trusting as I am forgetful."
Harry decided not to dignify Riddle with a reply, instead returning his attention to the place the house elf had been a moment earlier.
It was gone. Merlin, just when I thought things were smoothing out.
April 10, 1943
The Entrance Hall
10:26 AM
The rest of the night's affairs had gone off without a hitch. Having an entire Slug Club gala pass without a major incident felt strange after the last two and the drama they had brought.
Now, Harry stood beside Riddle as the two of them wished the other members of their group farewell. Harry himself was in high spirits despite Elena's departure. Dumbledore had written him back promptly and his missive at breakfast had said he would be willing to arrange more lessons during the spring break. Really, the only part of the break Harry did not eagerly anticipate was Riddle. Now that they were 'friends', she would doubtlessly try and use the emptiness of the common room to spend more time with him than ever before.
The others would soon be on the Hogwarts Express back to London, but for now, they were trapped in the long line leading to the open front doors through which blazing sunlight streamed, sending aisles of pale light sprawling across the floor and glittering off portrait frames and the marble staircase behind them.
Riddle placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. She had no regard for his personal space, and this particular gesture was one she was fond of. She did it to others, too; it was like her way of reminding people just how much control she had over them. It was annoyingly effective given how bloody tall she was.
Riddle opened her mouth, but she was interrupted by an awful scream so loud that the portraits rattled on the walls.
Harry winced as Riddle's nails bit into his shoulder. She turned with enough force to pull him with her. He pulled back, both of them drawing their wands as they rushed through the corridor.
Something cold closed around his chest as the screams died. Riddle had been with them all morning — he'd seen her enter the common room before breakfast. They had all been tied up the night before. Harry had heard no Parseltongue — something that had been prevalent during his second year.
One horrible thought plagued him as they pushed through the crowd, already knowing what they would find before them.
Riddle might really be innocent after all — someone else in the castle had the power to make this all happen.
Author's Endnote:
It probably feels like Harry is progressing very fast, and he is, but I should note that the better part of two months have passed in the last two chapters. The pacing has really sped up and will remain swift until the year's end, so things will feel quite fast until the year one finale wraps up.
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