The Holidays
"Jack where are you taking me?" the woman giggled as she was led across the shoreline, blindfolded and clueless of what she had been brought here for.
"We're almost there," Harry chuckled. "Just a little further."
The woman sighed, the sound eliciting a feeling of warmth within Harry. He loved that sound, and the way that she laughed.
"Give me a second," he murmured as they came to a halt.
He undid the blindfold and the woman looked around confusedly.
"The beach?" she asked. "Are we having a picnic?"
Harry shook his head as he grinned.
Reaching into his pocket, he removed a short blade, and for a moment, Harry panicked before Jack Potter pricked the end of his own finger and smeared the blood on a nearby stone.
"Look," he urged, nodding towards the top of a nearby cliff.
He watched as a house shimmered into view and the woman merely gaped at it for a moment before turning towards him.
Persephone was a beautiful woman. Her long, wavy blonde hair and pointed features were the envy of many, but it was her eyes that had drawn Jack to her.
Being a Yaxley, he never thought his father would agree to such a match, but after an intense few months of negotiations between the families, an accord had been reached.
Ever since, Jack had been dedicated the her and Persephone to him.
"You always said you wanted a home by the sea."
Persephone nodded.
"I didn't mean for you to get me one."
"You deserve it," Jack said dismissively. "This will be where we retire. I'll be handing the lordship down to Henry in only a few months and he will have the house in Godric's Hollow. Merlin knows I have given enough to the Wizengamot and to the village. It is high time that you get what remains of the best years of my life."
"Is that what you want, Jack?"
The man nodded, wincing as the scar across his neck pulled taught.
The wound had never fully recovered.
Even now, especially in the colder months, it ached, serving as a reminder of the duties he had carried out in the name of keeping Godric's Hollow and the rest of Wales free from those that wished to take what belonged to his people.
No price was too high for freedom, though whilst Jack laid at the foot of the mountains, his blood flowing into the dirt, his only regret had been not spending enough time with his wife.
The dark-skinned men that had come aboard their odd ships had been killed, almost at the cost of Jack Potter.
Fortunately, he had been found in the nick of time, and had even retrieved his own sword that had been buried in the guts of the ruthless leader.
Jack had not wielded it since, nor did he wish to again.
He had quite the gift for violence when necessary, but he took no joy from it.
Jack was a simple man. He lived for his wife and son to ensure they were happy and safe from the evils of the world.
There was nothing more he wanted, and that had been the deciding factor in his decision to retire imminently.
"We are going to live here?"
"If you wish," Jack chuckled. "You always said you enjoyed Falmouth."
"I do," Persephone whispered as she looked back towards the house.
"Would you like to see it?"
The woman nodded, and the two of them set off towards a nearby path.
Harry smiled as he was pulled from the vision.
It was odd how different he felt now upon experiencing the deep affection that his forefathers had felt for those they cared for.
To him, such emotions were no longer foreign or indiscernible though he could not profess to have experienced them for himself so intensely. Of course, there were those he cared for, but his own, limited exposure could not compare to decades of intimacy.
Nonetheless, his mind did wander to pleasant memories the were his.
With Malfoy and his ilk having been dealt with, the rest of the ball had gone by without further incident. Harry and Katie had danced several more dances together and had taken a walk through the grounds when festivities had ended.
For Harry, he did not want the evening to end, and seemingly, neither did Katie.
They walked and they talked, sometimes about school, life at home, and even nothing at all in some moments, yet, neither wanted it to end.
As with all good things, however, it did when none other than Filch found them by the lake only an hour before sunrise. Evidently, they had spent hours outside, and in truth, Harry could remember very little about their time together.
What he did know was that it had been the most carefree he had ever felt.
He had forgotten everything that had been hanging over him, all of what would one day come, and even the tournament itself.
It wasn't until they parted company and Harry woke the next morning that it all came flooding back.
Like most others who had remained for the ball, Katie had gone home the next morning to spend some time with her family over the festive period, and only Harry and a few others remained in the tower.
Ron and Hermione, from what Neville had told him, had argued quite heatedly in the Entrance Hall resulting in both of them storming away from the ball.
What that had been about, Harry didn't know.
When he had woken up, both were gone and wouldn't be back for a day or so yet with the other students.
Not that their fallout was any of his concern.
With the ball having come and gone, Harry needed to focus on the impending second task. He did not have the time to entertain petty squabbling amongst his friends.
Ron and Hermione would have to work through their own issues.
Harry had a date with a deep lake and he was still yet to decide just how he would approach breathing underwater for an hour whilst navigating his way through potentially swathes of hostile creatures.
It was a daunting task where so many things could go wrong.
Regardless, today he would not be focusing on the task nor his options in tackling it. Having seen what he had in the vision, the only thing on his mind was paying a visit to Falmouth.
It was a beautiful spot, and Harry was eager to learn what had become of the house Jack Potter had purchased for him and his wife.
Besides, having been spent locked in the room on the seventh floor for the better part of a week now had left him feeling the need for new surroundings, and Falmouth seemed as good a place as any.
(Break)
"Get off, you prat!" Katie groaned as her brother ruffled her hair.
Jason, the middle child of the three grinned as he took a seat opposite her at the table.
"How very rude," he declared as he helped himself to a piece of her toast.
"I was going to eat that!"
"You've been staring at it for the past five minutes," Chris pointed out. "What's wrong with you? Something on your mind?"
"No," Katie denied, though she felt her cheeks growing warm.
"Oh, she's thinking about a boy," Jason interjected.
"A boy? I don't bloody think so. Who is it? We'll have to have a word to make sure he treats our little Katie right."
"You will keep your noses out," their mother warned as she placed some breakfast on the table for the two men.
Jason had left Hogwarts the year Katie had joined and Chris the year before that. The former worked as an assistant coach for the Ballycastle Bats and Chris as a reserve Chaser for the Appleby Arrows.
Both were exceptionally gifted in the sport, but Jason found he was more passionate for the coaching side of things.
It didn't help that he was quite prone to injuries, so had decided to quit whilst he was ahead and in good health.
Katie hoped to follow in the footsteps of Chris and find herself a spot on a professional team when she graduated school.
"So, who is this boy?"
Katie tutted irritably and tried to hide the blush that was forming.
Her mother smirked, not dissimilarly to her when she was about to do something mischievous.
"Mum, don't!" Katie groaned.
"Oh, for heaven's sake, Katie," her mother sighed. "It's been in the paper twice this week. It's only because these two don't read it that they haven't noticed."
"The paper?" Chris asked as he stood.
Katie hid her head in her hands as her oldest brother began rifling through the newspapers that had arrived over the previous days.
"So, this is why you weren't here for Christmas day," the man said gleefully.
"What is it?" Jason questioned.
"Our little Katie was attending a ball," Chris explained. "That is never you in this picture," he added, choking slightly on his words.
"Here, let me see," Jason demanded, snatching the offending article from his brother's hand.
Katie could only groan in despair.
With them not having noticed the day the article had been published, she'd thought she'd escaped the inevitable ribbing.
"Oh, this isn't good," Jason murmured. "This isn't good at all. She's wearing a bloody dress!"
"And she looked wonderful," their mother declared proudly. "You're such a beautiful girl, Katie."
Katie merely wished the ground would swallow her up.
"Harry Potter," Chris muttered, coming out of his stupor. "She went to the ball with Harry Potter!"
Jason's eyes widened as he finally noticed who was in the photo with Katie.
"What is happening?" he whispered. "Our little Katie is a girl!"
"I've always been a girl, you prat!" Katie huffed.
"But not a girl that goes to dances," Jason retorted.
Katie rolled her eyes at her brother as she tore the article from his grip.
The picture in the paper was an exceptionally flattering one.
Both she and Harry were smiling brightly, their noses barely an inch apart as they danced the night away, neither having been aware of the flashes from the camera.
"Where did we go wrong?" Chris asked, pulling her from her thoughts.
"Stop being so dramatic," their mother sighed. "She was always going to end up dating, no matter what you did."
It was rather amusing to see her brothers sulking at their own perceived failure.
"Harry bloody Potter of all people," Chris groaned. "Alex is keeping an eye on him. He was pissed when Hogwarts cancelled the Quidditch season for the year."
Jason nodded.
"Clive is too, from what I've heard. After the rumours of how good he is, I think most teams are waiting to see if he holds up until his last year of school."
"Harry could probably beat most of the Seekers in the league already," Katie piped up, blushing again as her brothers turned their attention towards her.
"Bollocks," Jason denied. "No one is that good at that age, well, except for Krum."
"Harry is," Katie murmured. "He was the best flyer on the team as soon as he joined in his first year."
"How did he even get a spot so soon?" Jason asked curiously. "I can't see McGonagall doing anyone any favours, even if you are famous."
"She didn't," Katie insisted. "Harry had never even flown a broom before he came to Hogwarts. I don't know exactly what happened, but apparently, McGonagall saw him fly for the first time and he was impressive enough to earn his spot. Believe me, the rest of us were as sceptical as you, but he proved us wrong. He's brilliant."
"She's blushing again," Chris snorted. "From teammates to lovers," he mocked
"Don't say that!" Jason pleaded, and Chris realised his mistake, grimacing at his own error.
"We are not lovers," Katie denied. "Harry just invited me to the ball."
Chris hummed in suspicion.
"Well, you look very cosy in that photo," he pointed out.
"Alright, that's enough out of you two," their mother interjected.
Katie breathed a sigh of relief.
"Was he respectful?" Chris demanded and Katie groaned once more.
"Harry is nothing like you'd probably expect him to be," she replied. "He's nice, and always has been to me and everyone else. Oh, and this is for being a nosy git," she added, thumping Chris on the arm.
The man scowled at her as he rubbed his shoulder.
"She might be a girl, but she hits like a bloke," he grumbled, smiling almost proudly. "I feel sorry for Potter if he upsets her."
Jason nodded his agreement and moved away as Katie aimed a blow at him for good measure.
"Just because I put on a dress, don't think I won't kick the shit out of you," she warned.
"Language!" her mother chided. "What would Harry think if he heard that?"
"He'd laugh," Katie said with a shrug. "He's not some stuck-up pureblood."
"He can't be too bright either," Jason murmured. "Getting involved with you, he must have a death wish."
"Can you not just say something nice?" their mother huffed.
Jason sighed as wrapped his arms around Katie.
"I don't bloody well like it, but you look happy in that picture," he offered sincerely.
"I don't like it either," Chris grumbled. "So, when do we get to meet the famous future Quidditch star?"
The very thought horrified Katie.
She was not even close to being ready for that, and the longer she could keep Harry away from her brothers, the better.
They were exceedingly protective over her, and she did not wish for any embarrassing stories from her childhood coming to light.
"You've got no chance," she snorted. "I wouldn't let either of you near him."
"Oh come on, be a good sport," Chris chuckled. "We wouldn't intimidate him, would we Jason?"
"Not at all," her other brother replied with an unconvincing smile.
Katie did not believe them for a moment and she shook her head.
She and Harry had only attended the ball together. It wasn't as though they were dating. In truth, Katie had thought of very little other than the time they had spent together that Christmas night, but they had not spoken of anything beyond the Yule Ball.
It was likely that things would simply go back to the way they were before, and she was fine with that.
Despite everything, Harry was her friend first and foremost, even if the uncertainty and prospect of the ball being a one-off experience proved to be true.
Still, it wasn't a pleasant prospect to consider.
(Break)
Harry looked towards the clifftop, just as he had in the vision the cloak had shown him. The modern world had not fully neglected the land here, though it appeared that this part of the coast had not been touched.
In the air, mingling with scent of salt, was a tinge of magic, and as Harry drew a drop of blood from his finger, he was hopeful that he wouldn't be disappointed.
So long as Jack Potter had tied the charms to the blood of the family and not his own, his efforts should be successful.
He smiled as the house shimmered into view.
How long it had been left, Harry didn't know, but as he made his way towards he very same path Jack and Persephone had trodden some centuries prior.
The sizable garden surrounding the property was in a poor state; overgrown, unkept, and in need of considerable work.
The house itself had not escaped unscathed. The sea air had all but stripped the paint from the woodwork, and the bricks were weathered, though not unsalvable.
Nodding to himself and with a hint of trepidation, he approached the front door. Tapping it with the tip of his wand, it opened, the unoiled hinges squealing under protest.
Undeterred, Harry entered.
He had not seen the inside in the vision, but even he could see the house had seen better days.
Much of the furniture had simply rotted away, and the décor was considerably dated.
No one had spent any time here in at least a couple of centuries judging by the styling.
Harry shook his head, but a smile crested his lips.
Despite the amount of work it would take to modernise and bring it up to a liveable standard, he found that he liked it here.
He'd spent much of the previous summer fixing up his parent's home in Godric's Hollow, and it appeared that he now had his next project. This house, however, he intended to make a home.
It was peaceful, picturesque, and he would not be short on privacy.
To Harry, it would one day be perfect.
(Break)
Fleur had been in a foul temper since the night of the ball. So much so, that Gabrielle knew it was unwise to bring it up with her older sister. This morning, however, she no longer seemed angry, but had settled into one of her usually depressive moods after something had not gone her way.
"Was it so bad?" Gabrielle asked cautiously.
Fleur shrugged.
"I should not have expected anything less."
Gabrielle sighed.
"What happened?"
"Roger is a pig," Fleur declared simply. "He had no interest in getting to know me. He just wanted a veela on his arm. He is like every other boy, and if you mention Harry Potter, I will curse you."
Gabrielle said nothing but grinned.
"He was quite sweet, I suppose."
"Roger?"
Fleur scowled as she shook her head.
"Harry," she admitted reluctantly. "When Roger couldn't even speak, he hit him with a stinging hex."
Gabrielle giggled.
"See, I told you he is nice."
Fleur hummed and Gabrielle's smile fell.
"Did he have a good time with his date?" she probed.
Fleur quirked an eyebrow at her younger sister, and Gabrielle busied herself by peeling an orange from the fruit bowl on the table.
"He danced with her all night," Fleur answered almost apologetically. "They looked very happy together."
Gabrielle swallowed as she nodded.
A part of her still wished she had found a way to have gone to the ball, but it wasn't until the event was underway and the thought of what Harry was up to begin to bother her.
She knew that she liked Harry, that he was fun to be around and that he was handsome, but it seemed that it wasn't until it was too late that Gabrielle realised she had developed quite the infatuation for him.
It was an odd feeling, and something that was difficult to admit to herself.
Was it merely that he was the first boy who she had interacted with that had been capable of more than merely gawping at her?
Perhaps, but Gabrielle didn't think so.
It wasn't because of that, but because of everything she had seen of him.
Harry was kind, confident yet not cocky, and carried himself with strength and stability.
In some ways, he reminded Gabrielle of her father, yet he was different at the same time.
It was confusing for the young veela to feel such things, though she supposed it was something she would have to get used to.
Just not with Harry Potter.
She smiled sadly as she placed the orange on the table, what little appetite she'd had having all but evaporated.
No, she would have to ignore whatever it was she felt.
If she was fortunate, it would prove to be little more than a passing crush. Or so she hoped.
There were too many obstacles in the way of them ever finding themselves in a position that they would be more than passing acquaintances.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Fleur asked gently.
Gabrielle shook her head.
"No," she murmured. "I'd rather go and buy some ice cream."
Fleur rolled her eyes but laughed amusedly.
"Fine," she agreed. "I will get dressed and I will come with you."
With that, she took her leave of the kitchen and Gabrielle peered into the back of her spoon, cursing her immature appearance.
Harry would never look at her whilst she resembled little more than a child, and Gabrielle couldn't blame him.
Her mother had told her not to be in any rush to grow up, but with how she felt, Gabrielle couldn't help it.
Maybe if she had met Harry after she had begun her maturity, things would have been different?
No, it would not do to dwell on 'what-ifs' and 'maybes'.
"Are you coming?"
Gabrielle did her best to smile at the prospect of the sweet treat, but the joy did not come.
Nonetheless, she was not one to turn down spending time with Fleur. Her older sister could often be quite the pain and difficult, but Gabrielle was not ashamed to admit she was her best friend.
In truth, she did not know what she would do without Fleur and knowing that she would be at Beauxbatons alone next year was more daunting than she would admit.
Still, that was some time away, and there was the rest of the tournament and a long summer break before it became a reality.
(Break)
"Potter," Barty called as he spotted the boy enter the castle.
He'd been waiting for the elusive boy, and he cursed the wooden leg that clunked dully with every step he took. Why Moody had opted for such an uncomfortable prosthetic, he didn't know, but it was a hindrance, unlike the eye resting in his socket.
Not that the latter was serving him as well as he'd hoped.
With it, he'd believed he'd be able to watch Potter closely, but the boy had a propensity for vanishing without a trace, much to Barty's irritation.
With the new year having arrived, everything to come felt closer, and he needed to know that Potter was up to the tasks ahead of him.
"Professor?"
"How are you doing, lad?"
Potter shrugged.
"It could be worse."
Barty chuckled.
"Aye, it can always be worse," he agreed. "Damned leg. Come, it's been some time since we had a catch up. I'd like to look over the work I set you before the holiday."
"School doesn't start until tomorrow," Potter pointed out.
Barty grinned.
"We're not going to let a thing like that get in the way, are we?"
Potter shook his head and Barty began leading him towards his classroom, grimacing at the pain the leg left him in. He despised Alastor Moody for many reasons, but none more so than the wooden monstrosity he currently sported.
"Ah, that's better," Barty sighed as he took a seat behind his desk. "Never lose a leg, Potter. You never get used to it."
"I don't plan to," the boy snorted amusedly. "They eye seems pretty useful."
"It can be," Barty agreed. "Not much gets past this. Now, let us see your assignments."
Potter complied, removing a shrunken trunk from within his robes before resizing it and retrieving a stack of parchment from inside.
Barty accepted it with a nod and went about reading through the work.
There was no denying that Potter had done an exceedingly good job, and his knowledge of the Dark Arts was enviable. Where he had learned of some of the curses and counter curses he'd listed, with alternate ways to defend oneself from them was anyone's guess.
A boy of his age should not even know of these spells, and certainly not so intimately.
Although he was loath to admit it, even Barty was not familiar with a few of them.
He hummed as he turned the parchment over and continued reading.
"This is excellent work," he praised.
Whether or not the boy had come far enough to do what Barty wished of him was another matter entirely, but he could not fault the knowledge laid out before him.
Barty paused before he looked up at Potter.
He was a bright boy, and it made little sense that he would divulge such an intimate understanding of a branch of magic so heavily frowned upon, especially in detail.
Even if someone was trusted implicitly, no true practitioner would do so.
It brought a smirk to Barty's lips.
Potter was showing him just enough to satisfy the criteria of the assignment and nothing more, however, Barty was not quite satisfied yet.
"Can you cast them?" he asked curiously.
Potter hesitated for a moment.
"Come now, boy, let us not pretend that you haven't attempted it. Remember, I was there at the World Cup. The Ministry may have managed to keep it quiet, but we both know what happened when the bastards tried to ambush you."
Potter frowned, and Barty could almost feel the spike of anger that lanced through the boy.
It would serve him well when the time was right. He would use that anger to great effect, and if fortune favoured him, Barty would have done as the Dark Lord had bid and more than his master could have imagined.
The traitors would pay for their disloyalty.
"Maybe," Potter finally answered. "It's not wise to show even those you consider an ally all of what you are capable of."
Barty unleashed a bark of laughter.
The boy was indeed smart, and he relaxed considerably. Were it not for the fact that his days were numbered, Potter undoubtedly had the potential to be an excellent wizard in his own right.
It was almost a shame that it wasn't to be, but Barty never forgot that the boy was the enemy, even if he had come to somewhat admire him.
"You're not wrong, lad," he murmured. "I think I've taken up enough of your time. I'll mark this properly for you and prepare something else. On your way, Potter."
The boy stood to leave and Barty wasted no time in removing the leg, breathing a sigh of relief when it popped free.
Still, the pain and discomfort would be worth it when the Dark Lord was restored to his former glory.
For now, Barty simply had to play his part in that eventuality, and he would do so proudly. With Potter progressing well, he was hopeful that all would go to plan.
The boy merely needed to win the tournament, and Barty had no doubt that he would.
(Break)
"Don't you think it is best to do just leave it, Draco?" Nott urged as the blond paced back and forth in the compartment they were sharing.
Draco frowned.
"My father said something similar."
"He did?"
Draco nodded thoughtfully.
"He said it is best to leave Potter be for the time being and that he will get his comeuppance when the time is right, whatever that means."
"So, your father is planning something?"
"He must be," Draco replied with a smirk. "Either way, I'm not going to let it lie. Potter can't be allowed to think he can get away with what he has. Crabbe, Goyle, come."
The two boys along with Nott followed Draco from the compartment without question, and Daphne turned towards Blaise.
"What happened?"
Blaise snorted humourlessly.
"Just the same as ever. Draco tried to get one over on Potter at the ball and ended up running away like the coward he is."
"Doesn't he ever learn?" Tracey asked.
"Draco is stupid," Blaise replied with a shrug. "He must be if he thinks he's going to get away with anything. Potter would break him in half if he wanted to."
"You know something," Daphne said accusingly.
"I might," Blaise grinned.
"Spit it out, Zabini," Daphne huffed.
With a flick of his wand, the boy locked the compartment, ensuring they wouldn't be overheard.
"My mother is quite close to Nott's," he explained. "According to Catherine, the whole Death Eater thing at the World Cup was just a cover to get to Potter."
"Obviously that failed," Tracey said amusedly.
Blaise shook his head.
"Apparently, Malfoy and a group of them managed to ambush Potter. He managed to kill Walden Macnair just before being hit with half a dozen Killing Curses."
Daphne tutted.
"Well, that didn't happen."
"How can you be sure?" Blaise asked. "He survived it before and Walden Macnair is dead. I remember reading the announcement in the paper a couple of weeks after the World Cup. He wasn't ill and it came suddenly."
"That doesn't mean Potter killed him," Tracey pointed out.
"Then why would Nott's mother tell mine about it? From what I heard old Lord Nott hasn't slept a wink since Potter rose from the dead. He's frightened that he's going to after him."
"Do you really believe that, Blaise?" Tracey asked.
"Catherine Nott didn't sound like she was lying," he said seriously. "She was in bits and even asked my mother to kill Potter for her."
"She didn't!"
"She did," Blaise murmured. "My mother may be a lot of things, but she wouldn't hurt a child. Potter is safe from her, for now at least."
Daphne frowned thoughtfully.
If what Blaise had said was true then Harry Potter was a marked man, and he undoubtedly knew about it. If that was true, however, why was he not playing it a little safer around the likes of Draco?
Even more pressing was why he hadn't taken the initiative and used Draco as a bargaining chip against Lucius?
It made no sense, and yet, from what she knew about him, Potter was not foolish enough to simply wait for the Death Eaters to com after him again.
No, he would have a plan, and Daphne doubted that it would see a peaceful solution rise from this little-known conflict.
She worried her lower lip.
Draco was being even more stupid than he realised.
Potter would not have forgotten what had been done to him, and if Malfoy continued to push his luck, he would get a reaction he could not hope to be prepared for.
Perhaps she should speak with Potter?
They weren't exactly friends, but they had gotten on well enough during the dance lessons she had given him.
"What are you smiling at?" Tracey asked curiously.
"Nothing," Daphne denied, cursing herself.
It was odd to think that she had enjoyed the lessons, and Potter's company more so. She'd even felt a pang of jealousy at seeing the photographs of the ball that had been showcased in The Daily Prophet.
It had been Daphne that had taught him to dance so well, and yet, he was using that skill with another girl.
She shook her head of those thoughts.
It wasn't as though she could have gone with him, and certainly not having learned of what had seemingly occurred during the aftermath of the World Cup.
Daphne didn't know whether or not she believed Blaise, but then again, he had never been one to speak of tall tales or such fantastical things if he did not believe they contained at least a kernel of truth.
No, something had happened, and despite whether or not the version of events given rang true, Malfoy was likely on the verge of getting himself hurt, and Potter had an axe to grind with several prominent members of wizarding society.
It was interesting to say the least, and more than capable of changing the political landscape of the country should Potter choose to exercise his influence.
Maybe Daphne would give him a nudge in the right direction.
Her father was always bemoaning that the Wizengamot was mostly ineffective due to corruption.
Could it be that Potter could be the change it needed?
It was not often that one person could truly make a difference, but if that one person could be an alternative to Lucius Malfoy, then it could be enough.
Daphne needed to ponder all she had learned and consider her position carefully.
As with the dance lessons, she could not be seen to be mixing with Potter but spending a little more time with him covertly could prove to be quite beneficial.
Now, she only needed an excuse to do so.
(Break)
Harry broke the surface of the water, gasping for breath as he checked how long he had been under. He had been working on the theory that if he was able to use his magic to breathe, he would be able to complete the task without the need of maintaining a spell or transfiguration for the duration.
It was not going as well as he'd hoped, though being able to hold his breath for close to twenty minutes was more than any muggle could.
He felt as though he was onto something, but he knew he could not afford to waste time experimenting if it would lead to failure.
Twenty minutes was far from an hour, and with how fatigued he felt merely holding his breath without swimming or casting spells, which he would inevitably have to do, he doubted he would manage half the time he'd managed.
He hummed thoughtfully as he noted his observations.
No, he would have to take another approach.
The Bubble Head Charm seemed to be the most practical, but it was weak and if it failed, he would find himself in the depths without any means of breathing.
Perhaps it could modified to suit his purpose?
Harry nodded as he considered the possibility.
He would need to find a way to fortify the bubble without compromising its ability to provide him with air, and there was also the problem of simply being human.
Humans were not the fastest of swimmers, after all.
Maybe a combination of a stronger charm and transfiguring his feet into something resembling flippers would be best?
It was something he would need to ponder and experiment with.
Shaking his head, he climbed out of the large bathtub, dried himself, and dressed in his robes.
The students were due to return from the Christmas break soon, and he would be expected in the Great Hall.
For the rest of the evening, his efforts would have to be put on hold.
Checking the map, the castle was busier than it had been in a number of days, but none of the dots he could see were near the seventh floor. With that knowledge he left the hidden room and began the descent to the lower floors of the castle.
"Harry!" Hermione greeted him enthusiastically as he reached the Entrance Hall.
"How was the rest of your holiday?" he asked.
Hermione nodded, though her expression fell.
"I suppose you heard about the argument."
"I did. What happened?"
Hermione released a deep sigh.
"I don't know," she grumbled. "I was having a good time with Viktor, and when I went to speak with Ron, he was in a foul mood. Lavender had left and he took it out on me."
Harry could only shake his head.
As much as Ron was his best friend, he could be quite bitter and petty about things. It was one of the boys drawbacks having grown up with five older brothers.
"Well, he'll come around," he comforted.
Hermione did not seem to be convinced, and Harry followed her into the Great Hall which was now full of the returning students.
Taking a seat at the table, he spotted Ron sitting with Dean and Seamus. The redhead did not even look up to acknowledge them, and Harry decided to simply let Ron get on with it.
He had other things he wished to focus on.
Unwittingly, his gaze drifted until they came to rest on another, and Harry smiled at the sight the sight of the girl he'd danced the night away with not so long ago.
"Hello, Harry," Katie said almost tentatively, as though she was waiting to see his reaction to her.
"Hello," he replied.
It was a simple exchange that filled him with the same warmth he'd felt throughout much of the ball, and for her, it seemed to offer some needed reassurance.
Katie smiled as she blushed, and Harry jolted as he felt a foot come to rest next to his own.
Quirking an eyebrow at her, Katie ignored him and Harry could only shake his head.
Even without the dress, the elaborately styled hair, and the make-up, she was just as beautiful to him as she had been the night of the ball.
It was no longer in his nature to be shy or lacking in confidence, he'd ridden himself of his reservedness steadily since he'd left the Dursleys. But as they simply stared out one another, Harry felt almost out of his depth, akin to the many blossoming relationships he'd witnessed in the visions.
It wasn't so intense, but it was familiar, and for it to be his own and not lived through another was most welcome.
"What's wrong?" he asked, noticing Katie's expression falling slightly.
"Malfoy," Alicia interjected. "He tried to be a prat on the train."
Harry's nostrils flared as he turned towards the Slytherin table to find Draco and his ilk staring at him from across the room.
"What did he do?"
"Nothing worth getting into trouble over," Katie sighed. "You know what he's like."
"I do," Harry agreed, "and he's going to find out what I'm like."
Something had to be done about the boy. It seemed that words were no longer enough to deter the boy, and now it was time for him to be humbled. Draco needed to learn once and for all that he wasn't invincible and that his father was not some righteous god that could protect him.
No, Harry was done with talking where the Malfoys were concerned. It seemed that there was only one thing they would understand, and it would be Harry's pleasure to see to it.
What were they going to do, kill him?
Lucius had already tried that, and Harry had chosen to bide his time, to keep his head down whilst he prepared his rebuttal for the man and those that had assisted him. Now, he felt he could no longer do so, not for Draco, at least.
He wouldn't kill the boy but in the coming days, weeks, or however long it took for the message to get across, he would make his life utterly miserable where necessary.
Harry smirked at the thought.
Neither a Peverell nor a Potter would tolerate the Malfoys and what they were, and Harry had the best and worst traits of both families that had all but raised him.
Draco had no idea what was coming for him, but soon enough, he would.