January to June 1995, 4th year
"So I was thinking I could change the runic sequence here to keep the potion inside the basin even if the whole thing is turned upside down, but I haven't figured out, yet, how to make sure that doesn't interfere with this part, which is responsible for preventing the potion from spoiling and ensures it remains in a semi-gaseous state."
"What if you layer this part over this one?" Susan said, snatching Harry's quill to mark the sequences on his parchment, "then that would give you more space to put a longer sequence over here … and then you could put stop sequences in to properly separate the new one from the rest. That way they won't interfere with each other. I think."
Harry nodded. "Sounds like it could work. Now I only need to figure out the wording and correct translation, before we can try it out. Theo, have you found the text passage?"
"Not yet," Theodore said distractedly, not looking up from the book he was pouring over.
"Potter."
All three of them looked up to find Professor Moody standing next to their table. Harry dropped the silencing wards.
Moody snorted. "Impressive privacy charms for a fourth year."
"Can we help you, Professor?" Harry asked.
"No. But maybe I can help you. How far along are you with your egg? Figured it out, yet?"
"I thought the teachers weren't allowed to interfere?"
"Just checking in."
Harry raised his eyebrows. Really, now?
Theodore and Susan were both watching them silently.
"I haven't touched the egg since November," Harry said truthfully.
The eyebrow of Professor Moody's normal eye twitched. "And you did not think you might regret that later on?"
Harry blinked at him.
"You really haven't opened it since?"
"I found the screeching to be quite obnoxious."
"Maybe that's because the sound doesn't quite travel right."
Susan took in a sharp breath and Moody's magical eye immediately swirled around to look at her.
Apparently satisfied, the professor nodded. "Good luck, boy." And then he left.
"Sound travels differently in different media," Susan said. "Do you have the egg with you? We can try putting it in – let's see … A vacuum of sorts? No, sound waves don't travel through vacuum at all. But maybe different gases? Or liquids. You said it sounded like screeching, so lowering the frequency sounds like a good place to start – that's gases, then. Sound travels slowest in gases."
Harry wordlessly fished the golden egg out of his bottomless bag and put it on the table for Susan to experiment on. He also put up the silencing wards again, before Susan got them thrown out of the library. And then he leaned back and watched his two friends be nerds over an egg.
The gases didn't work, of course. Susan even tried creating a vacuum out of curiosity, though Harry had to step in and help out with that one. After that they moved on to liquids and since water was the most obvious choice, that was where the fun came to an end.
"So," Harry said, having already known the message since November, "they are going to put one of you into the freezing February water of the Great Lake, for one whole hour, and expect me to retrieve you."
Both Susan and Theodore narrowed their eyes at him. They were probably suspecting that Harry had already figured it out long before this day, but Harry remembered their reactions after the dragons and firmly decided not to confirm their suspicions.
The runic sequence written on the inside of the golden egg, hidden under several layers of Disillusionment Charms, had been very informative from an academical standpoint and actually given Harry a few ideas for his Pensieve project. The sequence had also contained, among the conversion into Mermish, the actual message – and interpreting that had needed no genius.
"I certainly will not give them my consent," Theodore said darkly.
"Do you think they will actually ask?" Harry wondered.
"They are legally obligated to ask for our consent," Susan said, biting her lip. "What do you think are they going to do if neither of us agrees?"
Harry shrugged. "Pick someone at random? They will probably annoy me into 'actively participating' again, but even if I don't go and rescue whatever poor soul ends up at the bottom of the lake, I doubt they will let them die after the time limit is up. Hogwarts can't afford the backlash that scandal would result in."
"They won't let anyone die, because that's the right thing to do," Susan said, exasperated.
"Potaytoes, potahtoes," Harry said.
"It's 'tomayto, tomahto', Harry."
Harry made a dismissive gesture. "Semantics." Then he reached into his bag. "Here, take this," he said, taking Susan's hand to press a small, round stone into her palm.
Susan blinked at him. "What is this?"
"Don't worry about it, just make sure to always carry it around."
Susan gave him an odd look. "Okay?"
Theodore did not scowl at the stone in Susan's hand. Harry noticed his disapproval, anyway.
"You don't need one, Theo, trust me."
Theodore did not look any happier at those words.
"Do you want a shiny stone that badly? Like a little magpie?"
"Don't tease, Harry."
Harry grinned. "Alright. I will make one, just for you."
o
The judges bullied him into entering the freezing lake.
As Harry had expected this, he had water-proofed his robes beforehand and put a few warming charms on them, so the water did not actually bother him. He still sent them his most scathing glare, before swimming out into the lake.
The other champions had all gone diving underwater, using various spells, to look for their most precious persons. But Harry didn't need to do that. Harry had given Susan an enchanted stone, after all, that made it possible for him to locate her anywhere, as long as she wasn't too far away from him.
They had put her in the middle of the lake. Very original.
Harry swam until he was right above Susan and then – he paused. He needed air. And he didn't know how deep the lake was, so he possibly needed to account for pressure as well … Harry had no idea how to do that. The air part was easy – he would just do what Diggory and the Beauxbatons champion had done and create an air-bubble around his head. The pressure part, however … Well, he could use his Gift to cast some general protective magic and heal whatever injuries he received along the way. It would suffice.
So Harry prepared himself, dove straight down and retrieved Susan. He didn't pay all that much attention to his surroundings, only took notice of the merpeople hovering nearby – but as they didn't attack him, he left them be.
Once that was done, Harry delivered a shivering Susan, who had woken up upon breaching the surface of the water, to the school's nurse, took Theodore, and left. There were some protesting cries, but Harry ignored those in favour of the prospect of an empty library. He would have waited around for Susan to make sure she was alright, but Susan was in capable hands and he was sure she would forgive him for not wanting to stick around all those annoying people.
He wondered whether that would have changed anything about the article that came out about a week later in Witch Weekly. Harry did not, of course, read that specific magazine, but many others did and a furious Susan slapped one such issue down on the library table, so Harry had no choice but to read it.
"Harry Potter – Caught in a Tragic Love Triangle." Harry's eyebrows rose. "What the hell?"
Susan was livid. "Read on."
"A boy like no other, perhaps – yet a boy suffering all the usual pangs of adolescence … two people of very different backgrounds … vying for the attention of the Boy-Who-Lived … jealousy and dangerous rivalry … scandal, scandal, scandal …" Harry looked up. "This is utter nonsense. Why are you so upset?"
"Because of this," Susan said, dropping several envelopes next to the magazine.
Harry whistled. "Some of these are cursed and this one contains some kind of potion."
"It's hate mail."
"Hate mail?"
"Yes. It's ridiculous. They all believe this rubbish and have decided to take it upon themselves to save you from 'the likes of me'."
"Ah," Harry said. "You want me to do something about it?"
Susan gave him a pleading look. "Yes, please. Preferably without resorting to violence."
Harry pursed his lips into a pout. "Aw, don't take the fun out of it, Susan."
The very next day, Rita Skeeter, the woman who had written the gossip article, publicly apologized and retracted all she had said.
"She will never write a single article again in her whole, miserable life," Harry said with deep satisfaction.
Susan looked at him blankly. "I'm not even going to ask." After a pause, she added, "You are aware I was talking about receiving hate mail and not the article itself, right?"
"Of course. I put a stop to that, too." Harry tilted his head. "Mostly. You will still receive the harmless hateful letters, because I couldn't figure out how to tweak the enchantment so that it could differentiate between actual hate mail and friendly teasing or insults not directed at you as the recipient. But the cursed and drugged mail won't reach you anymore, nor will the Howlers."
Susan's expression softened. "Thank you, Harry. I appreciate that."
"I did the same for you, Theo, by the way. I hope that's okay."
"Unnecessary, but thank you."
"You didn't receive any hate mail?"
Theodore arched an eyebrow. "Of course, I did. In fact, the very first letter was from my own father. He told me to 'not step out of line ever again or there would be consequences', albeit in a very different tone."
Harry considered that statement for a moment.
"Leave it be, Harry. I can deal with my father, myself."
"Alright," Harry said with a nod. "I trust you to take care of yourself, Theo."
o
"It's a maze." Harry said, flopping down on the sofa next to Theodore. "No mystery about it. One of the judges showed us the Quidditch Pitch. We just have to navigate a maze full of traps and magical creatures and find the Triwizard Cup. Oh, and I'm apparently in second place, however that happened."
Theodore's lips twitched. "You would have been first, had the judges not needed to force you to rescue Susan."
"She was never in any danger."
"That's not the point of this Tournament."
Harry shrugged. "So Diggory is in first place?"
Theodore nodded. "He was the only one apart from you who made it back within the time limit and that made up for his disadvantage in the first task."
"Good for Hufflepuff. I'm sure Susan is very pleased with that. Now all he needs to do is get the Cup – because apparently your performance in the first two tasks doesn't mean anything at all as long as you win the third one. It only gives you a head start for the maze."
"What an ingenious concept," Theodore said dryly.
Harry let himself fall sideways into Theodore, who stiffened in response, and grinned up at him. "Right?"
There was a commotion near the entrance to the common room, drawing their attention. One of the older students was telling the others that Mr Crouch had apparently been spotted on the grounds, wandering around aimlessly, but when the teachers had been informed no one could find him.
Harry would have dismissed this as a baseless rumour, if Theodore didn't comment on the man's disappearance.
"Just like Bertha Jorkins," Theodore said.
"Who's that now?"
"Forget it, Harry." Theodore raised a hand to his chin in thought. "It was curious that he disappeared after the first task, but according to his assistant, Crouch was merely sick at home."
"He has been missing this entire time?"
"Did you not notice his absence?"
Harry shrugged. "Not really. I remember him bullying me into getting the golden egg from the dragon and I could swear he bullied me into entering the freezing lake, too, but now that I think about it … It was some red-head."
"Percy Weasley, Mr Crouch's assistant."
"Weasley. Huh. There are quite a lot of them, aren't there?"
"One might say too many."
From then on, the rumours about Mr Crouch's disappearance and his mysterious sighting on the grounds spread throughout the whole school. The Daily Prophet did not report anything about this, but Harry wasn't sure whether the Ministry was actively keeping things quiet or whether it was indirectly his fault, because he had ensured Skeeter would never write an article again. She had been, after all, the most prominent reporter of magical Britain and certainly the least afraid of publishing controversial opinions and questionable facts.
On the other hand, Susan's aunt, Amelia Bones, and Lucius Malfoy, the blonde boy's father, were more than aware of Bartemius Crouch's disappearance and the ongoing investigation. Of course, Madam Bones was leading the investigation and reluctantly kept her niece updated. Mr Malfoy was apparently very influential within the Ministry and personally acquainted with the Minister and doted on his son very much, so Malfoy Junior always got to brag about his superior knowledge in the common room to whoever was willing to listen.
The story kept the student body occupied for a while, along with the now noticeable maze growing on the Quidditch Pitch, while Harry grew bored early on and then slowly annoyed, because no one would shut up about it. He finished his Pensieve, gave it to Theodore, because he didn't actually know what to do with it now that he wasn't working on creating and perfecting it anymore, and went to find a new side project – which, well, quite literally fell into his hands one day. He was rummaging around in his bottomless bag looking for – oh, he didn't remember what he had been looking for, anymore – when his fingers grazed a slippery piece of clothing. The Invisibility Cloak.
At first, he merely thought about dismantling it and trying to recreate it from scratch. But then he asked Theodore about Invisibility Cloaks and his friend's answer was the most curious thing. Made from Demiguise hair or putting very strong Disillusionment Charms on a regular cloak – so far so good. But the magic wore out over time, faded, made the wearer visible eventually. Which was only logical. Without being constantly fed, no enchantment would last forever.
Harry hadn't ever used his cloak, of course, but he could feel it's magic and it was just as strong as it had been four years ago, when he had first received it. Additionally, if the note accompanying the cloak was to be believed, it had once belonged to his father. So the cloak was at the very least as old as Harry, possibly much older. Harry's Invisibility Cloak was also literally impossible to dismantle.
It was utterly fascinating.
And it led Harry down an increasingly mythical search for answers.
Hallows.
Deathly Hallows.
There were very few people who believed in them, even less written accounts, but they were all agreed on the three objects and pointed towards one single origin myth – a fairy tale called The Tale of the Three Brothers.
Theodore gave him a sceptical look when Harry brought The Tales of Beedle the Bard to their table in the library, while Susan beamed at him, seemingly under the impression that he was interested in children's stories.
Harry read the tale. Then read it again. And again. Then he closed the book with a low hum. It irked him. He had the Cloak – he knew it was the real thing, he had looked into Invisibility Cloaks, had tested them. He was convinced his was a Hallow.
The Stone he was currently tracing through history, had already followed it to the Gaunts, and he was planning to investigate their last remaining property soon.
But the Wand. The Wand was currently in the possession of one Albus Dumbledore. He had seen it from afar, the few times the headmaster had used magic in front of the students. He knew it was the real thing. But Albus Dumbledore posed a problem. Harry could not just challenge the old man to a duel and win the Wand from him.
Harry didn't need the Hallows, not really. He never actually used his wand – or any wand, really. He didn't have any dead loved ones he wanted to bring back and talk to. (Although, maybe, there were some other dead people with valuable knowledge he might be tempted to call upon.) And he had never touched the Cloak except to examine its magic. Harry also didn't have any desire to become the Master of Death, whatever that meant. (Because it couldn't really mean being the actual Master of Death, could it?)
But he wanted those objects. Oh, how he wanted. He wanted to hold them. He wanted to feel their magic up close. He wanted to find out how they worked and he wanted to strip them down to their foundations. He wanted to know whether Death, the personification, was real. He wanted many things, but what he did not want was to duel the old headmaster. That was just not … Well, it would bring too many complications and Harry's life goal of being left the bloody hell alone had not changed in the slightest. So there was that.
No, Harry decided. He could wait. The Stone first. He would get the Wand eventually. Either a good opportunity presented itself or – well, the old man wouldn't live forever.
AN
Next chapter: The Third Task.