The Year's End
It had been a strange few months to say the least.
With what had transpired during the duelling club, no other meetings had followed. The students hadn't been given an explanation, but it was thought that Professor Dumbledore himself had decided against any further sessions being run.
Harry and the others had been disappointed, and he had no doubt that it was his display that was behind the decision.
If only it had ended there.
People looked at him differently now, with caution and were unmistakeably wary of him.
It had quickly gotten to the point where many were questioning if Harry was the heir of Slytherin and responsible for the attacks that had occurred earlier in the school year.
Oddly, it had been Malfoy who had unwittingly come to his defence.
The thought of anyone believing that Harry was indeed the heir of Slytherin infuriated the boy and he made his thoughts on the matter known.
Draco Malfoy was many things but being an ardent advocate for pureblood supremacy all but topped that list.
Anyone believing that Harry Potter, half-blood, was in any way related to the Slytherin line was as close as blasphemous to Malfoy as anyone claiming the two of them were paternal siblings.
Regardless, the rumours and whispering ceased very quickly when Draco had reminded the others that Harry's mother was from a muggle family and the Potters had not married into the Slytherin line, his words on the matter chosen very carefully in Harry's presence.
The one good thing that did come out of the entire debacle was that Malfoy no longer dared utter his bigotry when Harry was around.
He had become the most cautious of Harry after what he had witnessed him do during their duel.
It had been a strange period, and one that Harry had expected to come attached with consequences. However, nothing else had been mentioned, and he'd even received a letter from the Flamels a week later praising him for what he had done.
It made the incident rest easier on Harry's conscience when he had been questioning the wisdom in what he had done.
You acted accordingly to a threat made against you and do not allow anyone to tell you any differently! We continue to be proud of you, Harry. Keep doing what you are.
This is your own journey and something is only a mistake if it sees you hurt.
Harry had needed that letter more than he would have cared to admit at the time.
Of course, Hermione and Ron had both questioned him on his use of a darker spell, but Harry had remained silent on the matter. The latter had quickly gotten over it, and though it had taken Ron a little longer, he too seemed to have put the incident behind them.
The Weasleys, it turned out, were staunchly against the use of dark magic in any capacity, beliefs they had passed on to their children.
Still, despite months having gone by, there were those that hadn't and likely wouldn't forget what Harry had done.
It served him to the extent that he no longer had to endure Malfoy and his lackey's vitriol, but it came with the addendum that most felt the need to distance themselves from him.
Not that it mattered.
Harry's friends stood by him, and he had spent most of his life alone.
Perhaps after the impending summer break was over things would go back to normal? Or perhaps not.
"Harry, are you even reading it?" Hermione huffed, pulling him from his thoughts. "You've been staring at the parchment for almost ten minutes now."
"Sorry, I zoned out."
Hermione shook her head in disapproval.
"This is really important," she reiterated for the dozenth time in the space of two days. "Our choices now will effect what careers we can have when we leave school."
"I know, Hermione," Harry sighed irritably as he shifted his focus back to the list of optional subjects he could begin studying during his third year.
Thus far, one stood out to him, reminding him of the earliest of visions he'd had courtesy of the cloak.
Ancient Runes.
He vividly remembered the strange symbols he'd seen etched into the stone floor of the churchyard when the Peverells had summoned Death and even looked at his own crudely drawn depiction of them he had copied upon exiting the memory.
They made no sense to him now, but Harry was still determined to decipher them.
They were indeed a motivating factor, but the study itself certainly appeared to be interesting though seemingly quite challenging.
Ancient Runes
A subject that will take any practitioner to the very foundations of magical theory and practical use.
During your studies, you will learn to read, decipher, and recreate runes of various ancient languages.
Ancient Runes is a must for any budding Aurors, Cursebreakers, and a myriad of other careers that lay ahead of you.
The course will be a mixture of theory and practical work but should not be taken lightly.
Becoming a Runemaster or Mistress takes years of dedication but will prove to be one of the most flexible, adaptable, and useful subjects any can choose to take.
Both complex and robust, Ancient Runes is a powerful branch of magic that should not be overlooked.
Harry nodded thoughtfully.
Without doubt, it would be one of the options he would be electing to take and was anticipating taking the subject.
"Ha! That will be easy," Ron declared as he ticked one of the boxes on his sheet.
DIVINATION
Harry frowned at his choice.
"I didn't realise you were psychic, mate."
"I'm not," the redhead denied, "but you can just make it up. Reading tea leaves and pretending to see stuff isn't so hard."
Harry shook his head.
He doubted that it would be so simple, and without having some skill in premonitions or visions into the future, he felt that it would be a waste of time even attempting to study the subject.
His frown deepened as he pondered his own unique visions.
What did seeing into the past equate to?
Was it a form of Divination?"
He didn't know, but it wasn't him that was possessed the magic that allowed him to experience the visions he did. It was the cloak that did that and had nothing to do with Harry and his ability to conjure them.
No, he certainly would not be studying Divination.
"Ancient Runes?" Ron groaned as Harry ticked it off on his parchment. "That will be bloody hard."
"I think it will be interesting," Harry replied, eliciting a smile of approval from Hermione.
"It will be," she agreed excitedly. "Runes are one of the oldest and most powerful forms of magic. If you learn them well enough, you can do so many things."
"Yeah right," Ron muttered grumpily. "I'm not doing that."
"Why not?" Hermione pressed.
"It's hard," Ron answered with a shrug. "I saw Fred and George's homework on it during the summer. I don't fancy that."
"You know you don't have to take it," Harry pointed out.
Ron did not seem pleased for reasons known only to him, but he merely nodded in response and began pouring over his list once more.
Harry looked questioningly towards Hermione who only shrugged before following suit, ticking off just about every available subject.
"Muggle Studies?" Harry probed. "You come from a muggle family."
Hermione tutted.
"Don't you think it will be interesting to see what witches and wizards think of muggles?" she returned.
"If it's anything like how Malfoy and his lot see them, I doubt it will shine them in a positive light," Harry snorted as he read the synopsis.
Muggle Studies
An in-depth study of muggle culture and how they have developed over time.
Throughout the course, you will investigate muggle technological advances, the development of medicine, and the emergence of the modern world.
To Harry, it did not sound appealing.
He had grown up in the muggle world, and if truth be told, it had been a most unpleasant experience. He had no desire to study it whilst at Hogwarts.
The castle was his haven away from the other life he had lived.
No, it was not a study he would be taking.
Care of Magical Creatures, however, did seem to be something he would enjoy, but it was Arithmancy he needed to consider further.
Arithmancy
The study and practical implementation of magical formulae.
Have you ever wondered just what it is that make spells work the way they do?
Would you like to become an inventor of new spells?
If yes, then Arithmancy is the right subject for you.
Among the most challenging of branches of magical study.
Throughout the duration of the course, you will dissect and understand intricate complex magical equations, understand the importance of formulae when creating new spells, and delve into the most intricate aspects of magic as a natural force.
It did sound exceedingly complex, and Harry did not miss the similarities it seemed to share with muggle numeracy.
He'd hated math at school.
Not so much the subject, but the teacher he'd had during his short stint had been a gruff man who often smelt of alcohol.
It wasn't uncommon for the teacher to fall asleep in his chair, and for reasons unbeknownst to Harry, Mr Pinner had despised him almost as much as Snape did.
No, Arithmancy didn't appeal to him either.
With his mind made up,he placed a tick next to Care of Magical Creatures and nodded satisfactorily.
"At least we'll be together for that," Ron said, having cheered up somewhat.
Harry offered the boy a smile as he placed the parchment into an envelope and sealed it, happy with the electives he had selected.
Ron had opted to take Divination and Care of Magical Creatures respectively, not even giving any thought towards the other three.
It was a shame really that he didn't think enough of his education to choose something more useful than the former, but it was ultimately his choice.
If he wanted to waste time on a subject he couldn't thrive in, it was his prerogative to do so.
"Will you even be able to do all of them?" Ron asked Hermione.
"I'm sure something can be arranged," she replied. "I can't be the only one ever to have done it. Maybe I will speak with Professor McGonagall," she added as she stood and headed towards the staff table.
"She's bloody mad," Ron declared almost disappointedly. "She won't have time for anything else if she does them all."
Again, it was not Harry's concern what his friends decided to study.
He'd made his choices, and along with his continued work in Occlumency and digesting all he could from the books Nicholas had gifted him, Harry too had more than enough to keep him occupied.
"Quidditch pitch, seven o'clock," Wood instructed as he passed where they were seated.
At least Oliver and the rest of the team hadn't treated him any differently since the incident during the duelling club.
Fred and George had asked him to teach them the spell he'd used, and the three Chasers had not even mentioned it at all, something Harry was grateful for.
Even so, he could do without the additional training Oliver was putting them through.
With only one game of the season left, the seventh year had become somehow more obsessed with retaining the Quidditch Cup and had them training every free moment they had.
If he could get away with it, Harry suspected Wood would have them skipping classes, but even with McGonagall being as big a fan of the sport as she was, she would never allow it, much to Harry's relief.
He enjoyed Quidditch, and loved flying, but it was not the most important thing in his life, not with everything else hanging over him.
Inevitably, his mind wandered to the other things that had been plaguing him more recently.
The Diary.
From the moment he had held it, he knew that there was something off with the book. At first, he thought that it had perhaps been the feeling of dread at reading the name of whom it had belonged to that felt so wrong, but having woken the next morning, even in Harry's inexperienced hands, he could feel that there was more to it.
It was a strange thing that Harry interacted with purely in a passive nature.
Whatever it was concealed by the seemingly innocent pages of a book tried to breach his mind often, though without success.
Had Harry not begun his studies in the Mind Arts, it would have likely been able to.
What it would be able to achieve, he didn't know, but he suspected that it would not be good.
If it fell into the hands of those who were unaware or inexperienced in Occlumency, Harry dreaded to think what the diary was capable of.
For the most part, it was simply there, a presence on the fringe of his mind trying to find a way in.
Harry refused to allow it, but he did use the book for his own means.
With something attempting to manipulate inner most thoughts, he took the opportunity to delve into some practical defence against the intrusive magic.
Still, it was unsettling to say the least.
He knew that he should perhaps hand it to Dumbledore, but there was something that stopped him from doing so.
Was it the diary somehow influencing him to keep hold of it?
It was a possibility that Harry couldn't ignore, but he felt control enough in the situation that it did not bring him great concern.
Regardless, he instinctively knew that he was not ready to tackle whatever it would prove to be.
He would need to be much more advanced in his magical ability and knowledge to do so. With the diary belonging to Voldemort, it would be foolish to take too many risks with it.
"You look pleased," Harry commented as Hermione returned.
"Professor McGonagall said she will do everything she can to ensure I will be able to take all the subjects," she explained.
Again, Ron shook his head, mostly in amusement.
Harry was in agreement with the boy, but it was not his place to say anything.
Hermione would have to learn from her own mistakes.
There were unable to drop any of their current subjects and taking on five more would likely prove to be too much, even for the bushy-haired girl.
"What do we have now?" Ron asked, having finished with his choice of options some time ago already.
"Potions," Harry grumbled.
Ron groaned.
"Bloody hell. Why can't we dump some of our classes? I'd happily take one of the others to get rid of potions."
"Potions is one of the most important classes we take," Hermione pointed out. "That is why it is mandatory until we finish our OWLs."
This time, Harry agreed with her, but as Ron opened his mouth to argue with the girl, as was his very nature, he said nothing.
He'd rather not be treated to their bickering when it came to education and opted to ignore the duo as they made their way towards the dungeons.
Only a matter of weeks ago, Hermione may have felt a little more sympathetic of Ron's feelings towards the topic.
Harry hadn't known it at the time as he hadn't checked, but Myrtle's tantrum the night he had found the diary floating in the water had corrupted the Polyjuice Potion, rendering it useless.
Hermione had been furious and had bemoaned how easily the brew had been compromised.
Still, she didn't hate Potions, unlike their redheaded friend.
Harry didn't like Potions either, but he understood just how important it would prove to be.
He merely wished they had a Professor that didn't despise him with every fibre of their being.
(Break)
It was that time of year again that saw Albus making preparations for the fifth- and seventh-year students to sit their pivotal exams. Already, there had been admitted to the Hospital Wing suffering with severe anxiety attacks, and the headmaster had no doubt that more would follow.
It happened every year, and this one wouldn't be different, though in other ways, the term had not gone to plan.
The attacks for one thing had been an unexpected and unpleasant addition, even if they had ceased several weeks prior.
That in itself was an odd development, particularly where Tom was concerned.
It was not within his nature to simply stop something that was working, especially when there had been no danger of him being caught.
It shamed him to admit it, but Albus was no closer to discovering just how the attacks had been carried out, and although he was grateful for the cessation, he was equally frustrated.
He did not wish for them to continue and he would have preferred to deduce how they had occurred,
It was concerning to say the least, but until Mr Creevey was revived in the coming days when the Mandrakes would finally be ready, there were no leads to follow.
If the boy did indeed see something, anything, Albus would immediately continue with his investigation.
"Come in," the headmaster instructed as a knock sounded at the door to his office. "Ah, Minerva," he greeted the woman as she entered.
"The second years options for the Gryffindors," Minerva explained as she placed them on the desk.
Albus nodded appreciatively.
"As I had expected, Miss Granger has opted to take all of the electives."
Albus frowned before shaking his head.
"It is not possible to take all five," he sighed. "Three at most would work. There simply isn't enough time nor the flexibility to accommodate the request."
"I thought as much," Minerva sighed. "I shall speak with her in the morning. Not unless we can make a special arrangement for her. We have done it before."
Albus hummed thoughtfully.
"I will consider it," he decided.
With how the past two years of schooling had gone, he was reluctant to have something so potentially hazardous within the castle.
It could be disastrous if such a thing were to fall into the wrong hands.
"Any other surprises?" he asked.
"I would not say surprises, but Mr Weasley seems to have decided he wishes to be a seer," Minerva answered, the corner of her lips tugging in amusement.
"You should not be dismissive of Divination, Minerva," Albus chided lightly. "There are few who understand it, but it is as legitimate as any other branch of magic."
"But particularly more imprecise," Minerva countered.
"At times," Albus agreed, not wanting to have the same debate they shared just about every year. "What about Mr Potter?"
"He has chosen to study Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures."
"Not Divination?"
Minerva shook her head.
"I do not believe he even considered it," she replied.
Albus nodded.
It would have been beneficial for Harry to take the class, to experience the subject before he became aware of the prophecy hanging over him. Perhaps it would make it easier to believe had he the inclination to obtain an understanding of it.
Not that Albus would force the boy, even if he could.
He grimaced at the memory of the disagreement he'd had with Nicholas and Perenelle only a matter of weeks ago when he had visited them to discuss the incident that occurred during the first and only duelling club meeting.
Flashback
He had taken a day or so to ponder the incident and how best to approach his former mentor with what had happened. Albus didn't wish to give the impression that he was accusing either Nicholas or Perenelle of any wrongdoing, after all, even if they were somewhat responsible for Harry's display of dark magic.
Releasing a deep breath, he threw a handful of floo powder in the fireplace.
"The Flamel Residence," he murmured and waited for a response.
"Albus!" Nicholas greeted him joyfully only a moment later. "Is something wrong?" he asked, noting the worn look of the headmaster.
"I think it is best if we have this conversation in person. If you and Perenelle would be kind enough to join me?"
Nicholas frowned and nodded.
"We will be with you shortly."
His head vanished from within the flames, and true to his word, the Flamels entered the office only a few minutes later.
"What is this about?" Nicholas pressed.
"Perhaps you should see for yourselves," Albus urged, gesturing towards the pensieve.
He had reviewed the memory himself several times over the past couple of days, and no matter how often he did so, he did not feel any less unsettled by what had transpired.
Saying nothing, the Flamels complied, and re-emerged from the memory a moment later, neither seeming pleased by what they had witnessed.
"It is concerning, is it not?"
Nicholas nodded.
"It is," he agreed, his expression quite thunderous. "That man, Snape is it? He instructed the other boy to summon a deadly snake to attack Harry!"
Albus was taken aback by what Nicholas had taken away from the memory.
"It is not Severus that I wished to discuss with you."
"It damned well should be!" Nicholas snapped. "Who was coaching Harry during that farce of a duel, hm? How is it that a student was instructed to endanger the life of another?"
"Harry would not have been on any danger," Albus assured the apoplectic Frenchman.
"Only because he took the initiative and defended himself! I did not see any other step in to do so."
"I believe you are missing the point, Nicholas," Albus sighed.
"Am I?"
"You saw for yourselves what Harry did."
Nicholas's jaw tightened as he glared at Albus irritably.
"He reacted accordingly to a severe threat made against him."
"Using magic a boy of his age has no business knowing let alone using."
Nicholas snorted derisively.
"Harry has endured more than anyone his age should. You know better than any what is waiting for him outside of these walls."
"Did you teach him it?"
"No," Nicholas said firmly, "but I did provide him with the means of learning it," he added unashamedly. "It is Harry's choice if he uses the magic. At the very least, he must be able to defend himself from it. I do not know what you are expecting will happen when they inevitably meet, but it will not result in peaceful negotiations."
"There are other ways," Albus protested.
"Other ways?" Perenelle broke in. "Please, do enlighten us to these other ways, Albus."
The request may have sounded polite, but Albus knew Perenelle Flamel.
The woman was on the cusp of becoming very angry with him and he knew he needed to choose his next words carefully.
"There is magic at play here," he replied. "Lily Potter's sacrifice prevented Harry dying that night. Him delving into the Dark Arts is not how he will win this fight."
"Her love saved his life but it will not win a war!" Perenelle returned. "You always were far too narrowminded in your ways, Albus. The world is not simply as black and white as you believe it to be. Harry cannot be you. He cannot adopt a set of unrealistic morals just because you and others do not agree with what actions he may have to take. Tell me, Albus, who is it you and the rest of Britain will look to when this Voldemort does return?"
Albus, of course, knew the answer.
Before he could speak, however, Perenelle continued.
"Who is it that he will come looking for first? Harry is the singular defeat he has suffered and it made him look human when he wishes to appear to be a god. He will not let that lie, and Harry will be at the top of his list of wrongs he needs to put right. You may not like it, Albus, but Harry will have to do things you do not like or agree with if he wishes to survive what is to come. You will not stand here and lecture Nicholas for taking necessary steps to see that he survives, not when you are doing nothing to help him. I am not telling you to teach him what you stand against, but I will not allow you to stand in the way of what needs to be done. Harry is not you, he is not Voldemort, and he is not Grindelwald!"
The last name caused a pang of guilt and regret to make itself know in Albus's chest.
"I will continue to help him in any way I see fit," Nicholas declared, "and I would suggest you really consider what part you wish to play in what is to come. If you are unwilling to help him, then step aside and do not impede him. Ultimately, it will be up to Harry what course of action he takes and I will not see him killed because of your inability to keep your damned nose out. Do you understand?"
Albus felt as though he was a teenager once more and being given a lesson from the man who had been kind enough to open his life to him.
Nicholas possessed a brilliant mind, and quite the vicious tongue when provoked.
"I understand," Albus returned with a bow.
"Good, now this Snape. What is being done about him?"
End Flashback
Even with so many weeks having gone by since the interaction, Albus felt the sting of Nicholas's chastisement whenever he pondered it.
"Minerva how is Harry doing?" he asked curiously.
"Truthfully, Albus, the boy has been different this year. He is taking his work seriously, and his efforts are showing. If he continues as he is, he will soon begin pulling far ahead of his peers in the practical aspect of his work. Already, he is seldom challenged in my classes, and Filius has said much the same. He has the potential to be an excellent wizard, so long as he, goes on as he has this year."
Albus nodded his understanding, his mind drifting back to the conversation he'd shared with the Flamels.
He could not, in good conscience, partake in teaching Harry the very magic he so strongly opposed, but there was much he could assist the boy with.
"Then I would like for you to encourage him to develop his skill," he urged. "Push him and challenge him sufficiently. I will speak with Filius and suggest he does the same, if you believe he can handle it."
Minerva nodded.
"It remains to be seen, but I will do as you have asked," she complied.
"Thank you," Albus said gratefully.
It was not an admission that Nicholas and Perenelle had been right, but if Harry was truly progressing as Minerva had described, then he should be nurtured.
He would need a solid grounding in all aspects of practical magic when it came to facing the Dark Lord.
(Break)
He felt groggy as he woke, naked beneath fur and under an elder tree they had stopped at the night before.
Gawain did his utmost to remember how he had gotten in this position, his dread growing as the previous evening unfolded in his mind.
He had never been one to take to drink until his wife had died, and that phase had lasted only a period of a few days or so after. Seeing how it upset his children, he had vowed to never let another drop pass his lips.
He had kept his word, so why did he feel as though he was drunk?
He took another sip of the water after the first failed to quench him, and again, he could not help but notice how rather striking Malory Gaunt was, especially in the fading light of day.
From her dark, wavy locks to her brilliant eyes, she was a true beauty.
"Is something wrong, Peverell?" she asked amusedly.
Gawain shook his head as he looked away, busying himself with his skin of water once more.
His head began to swim, and despite his best efforts, he could no longer keep his eyes off his prisoner.
It was odd, almost as though he was in the middle of a very vivid dream. Everything had slowed down considerably, and the next moment he became truly aware of was when he felt Malory's lips and taut body pressed against his.
He wanted to push her away, to remain faithful to the vows he had made to his wife, but with only a smile, what willpower he possessed all but evaporated…
They had laid together, given in to whatever carnal urges they felt towards one another, and writhed in ecstasy for the next hours with no thought to the consequences.
Gawain swallowed deeply, the foreign taste in his mouth not the reason for the sickness he felt. No, that was guilt for what he had done.
Why hadn't he stopped?
He drank deeply from his skin again, the exertions bringing his thirst to bear as he took in the sight of the nude Malory Gaunt.
"You do have a strong will," she said appraisingly, her words sounding slurred though she seemed to be as a sober as the day she was born. "Drink," she urged. "It will help."
Gawain did so, emptying the skin before it fell from his weakened grasp.
"What did you to me?" he managed to whisper as he felt his consciousness slipping away.
"What was necessary," Malory replied as she rifled through his pack and retrieved her wand. "Do not worry, Peverell, you will not die. Perhaps it would be best to kill you, but I have grown oddly fond of you. I do not wish you harm, but I must find the stone. You have my word that none of my followers will enter your land so long as you do not look for me. I will not harm your people if that is your concern. I just want the stone."
Gawain's thoughts were a mess, but he remembered vividly what had happened to his Uncle Cadmus and he nodded his consent, hoping that Malory Gaunt would find just as much misery from her experience that he did.
"Good," Malory whispered as she leaned in and placed her lips against his. "There is no need for us to be enemies in this. Perhaps you will learn not to be so damned chivalrous and trusting now. You are a sweet man, Gawain Peverell," she added as she cupped his cheek. "I am certain we will not meet again."
With that, Malory had left and Gawain had lost consciousness.
He had indeed been a fool and had paid the ultimate price.
Sitting up, he quickly checked his belongings, relieved to find his wand and cloak amongst them.
He cared for nothing else other than his bruised ego.
What would he say when he returned to Tristan without the prisoner? How would he explain why he was no longer seeking Gaunt out?
At the very least, Gawain knew he would have to make a token effort to find Malory Gaunt, if only to preserve what little remained of his dignity.
Whatever the woman had managed to put in his skin had been consumed, and though he sporadically received involuntary lusty thoughts and reminders of the night they shared, they became less frequent throughout the day as he headed towards Godric's Hollow, hoping that what had happened would never become known to any other.
"It is rude to keep ladies waiting, Harry!" the voice of Katie sounded as he was pulled back through the void, as confused as ever by the memory, and a little bashful at what he had witnessed.
Malory Gaunt had been a beautiful, with and without her clothes.
"Harry!"
"It's just as rude to lurk outside of the showers," he pointed out.
"Sounds like he is getting brave again," Angelina sighed. "Hurry up!"
Harry could only shake his head as he turned off the shower and dried himself off with his towel.
Only a moment later, he joined the three Chasers so they could escort him back to Gryffindor Tower.
"I'm not a first year anymore," he pointed out. "I don't need a security detail."
"After what you did to the snake, we don't doubt it," Alicia piped up.
Harry paused as he looked at the girls.
It was the first time any of them had mentioned what had happened during the duelling club, though none of them seemed to be judging him negatively.
"What would you have done?" he asked.
"Probably set it on fire," Angelina answered with a shrug, "but your way worked."
"I did what I had to," Harry murmured. "It was the first thing I thought of when it came at me."
"It was still dark magic," Angelina reminded him. "Most people don't like it. They will think badly of you."
Harry chuckled humourlessly as he shook his head.
"I couldn't care less," he replied sincerely. "Dark magic is just like any other magic. If I used that spell to save one of your lives, would it be such a bad thing?"
"If someone was trying to kill me and you used it, I wouldn't be upset," Alicia reasoned.
The two others nodded thoughtfully.
"What if I used a water summoning charm to drown someone, wouldn't that be using magic for a dark purpose?"
"I've never really thought of it like that," Angelina mused aloud.
"Most people don't," Harry huffed. "I'm not some kind of dark wizard, but I will always do whatever is necessary to keep myself and the people I care about safe. Would you not do the same for each other or your parents?"
"If I knew how to, I suppose," Katie replied.
"Exactly," Harry said tiredly. "Come on, let's get back before people start accusing me of trying to recruit you into my inner circle of darkness."
The three girls laughed and encircled him, drawing their wands for dramatic effect.
"What are you doing?" he grumbled.
"Protecting our leader," Alicia declared with a smirk.
"Bloody hell," Harry muttered.
"He still doesn't seem to appreciate his unique position," Angelina said airily.
"My unique position?"
"You have three young witches escorting you to the castle. Most boys a Hogwarts could only dream of that."
"It's because he isn't old enough to start appreciating witches yet," Alicia teased.
Harry blushed at the images of the vision he had witnessed only moments prior.
Oh, he was definitely old enough to appreciate witches, even if it wasn't something he had truly considered before this evening.
"You might be wrong there. His cheeks have gone pink," Katie said gleefully. "Is there a certain witch that has caught little Harry's eye?"
Harry shook his head.
It was not as though he could tell them that he was currently thinking of a woman that had been dead for several hundred years.
"Oh, he's lying," Angelina whispered excitedly. "Come on, little Harry, who is the lucky girl."
"No one!" Harry denied vehemently, though he felt his cheeks continue to redden. "Leave me alone."
"Not until you tell us," Angelina insisted as she took him by the arm so that he could not flee. "Is it one of us?"
"Or all three of us?" Alicia added with a wink.
"Someone kill me, please?" Harry pleaded as they passed a group of older Hufflepuff students.
They ignored him and Harry cursed the students that wore the yellow-trimmed robes.
"Oh, come on, Harry," Angelina pressed. "You can tell us."
"I'm not interested in anyone here!"
Somehow, Harry thought he may have said the wrong thing as the three girls stared at him pointedly, almost offended by his words.
"And what is wrong with us?" Alicia asked.
"I would like to know that," Angelina chimed in.
Katie merely nodded her agreement, a grin of amusement tugging at her lips.
"Wait, no, there's nothing wrong with any of you," Harry denied.
"No, it is too late for that," Alicia said dismissively. "You have hurt our feelings."
She stuck her nose up in the air and walked off, quickly followed by the others with Katie shaking her head at him.
"I think you need to learn how to talk to girls, Harry," she urged.
He could only stand rooted to the spot in a state of confusion.
What had he said that was so wrong?
Harry had no idea, but as he made his way up the remaining staircases, he soon forgot about the three Chasers as his mind wandered back to the vision.
It had been months since he'd experienced one, even when he had willed the cloak to show him something after weeks of silence.
Nothing had been forthcoming, not until he had taken the cloak with him in his bag for Quidditch practice.
Usually he left it under his pillow, but today he hadn't.
Why now and not when it usually called to him?
For the second time this evening, Harry found himself facing a question he did not know the answer to.
What had changed to cause the cloak to cease showing him the visions?
Harry paused in the middle of the next staircase as a thought popped into his mind.
The diary.
It had been when he'd obtained it that the cloak had begun to function as only a cloak.
Was the diary somehow preventing the visions, or was it the cloak refusing to work in the vicinity of the seemingly cursed book?
It was impossible to say without investigating the matter, but Harry couldn't help but think that he may well have figured out the problem.
Either the diary truly was an exceedingly powerful object that the cloak recognised it as such, or the diary was able to prevent the cloak from working as it had been.
Regardless, neither outcome was one Harry would relish, but he was determined to discover the reasoning behind the cloak not acting as it once had.
With the school year coming to an end in only a matter of day, it would have to wait until the summer.
Harry frowned at the thought of the break.
What was he going to be doing for the months away from the castle?
The Flamels had not said whether he would be returning to them or not, but he certainly had no intention of staying with the Dursleys.
Harry had truly put those days behind him, and there was nothing that could happen that would change that.