THE HIGH PRICE

by peverell.magic

The ash began to bury his legs, enveloping him in its soft, warm embrace. Harry wrapped his arms around his knees and buried his face in them, allowing the world to drift into the distance.

24. CHAPTER 24: THE ENIGMA OF THE MAGICAL HE

CHAPTER 24: THE ENIGMA OF THE MAGICAL HEDGE

The quidditch pitch lay adorned in an intricate tapestry of knee-high hedges, their patterns weaving an enchanting labyrinth. The imposing shadows of the towering hoops loomed majestically over this natural spectacle, casting their elongated silhouettes onto the verdant carpet below. A spring sun bathed the scene in a warm, golden glow, adding a touch of magic to the moment. Meanwhile, the spectator stands stood in silent disuse, collecting a thin film of dust at their forgotten edges.

"Heresy! Sacrilege!" Katie's fiery spirit ignited as she darted past Harry's shoulder, launching a swift kick at the hedge. "Blasphemy!"

Nev, a guardian of nature, jumped into action, courageously taking a solid kick to the shins to protect the mysterious flora. "No! This is an exceedingly rare plant. I've only seen it in illustrations and texts. It's supposed to be nearly impossible to cultivate."

Katie's indignation persisted as she glared at the hedge. "It's on the quidditch pitch!"

Harry, ever the pragmatist, reminded her, "You can't even use the pitch this year, Katie. I'm sure they'll remove the hedges for next year."

Katie was undeterred, readying herself for another strike. However, Nev once again intervened to shield the hedge from further harm.

She hesitated for a moment. "Really?"

"Perhaps it's best to leave the hedge be, Katie," Harry suggested, his wand subtly sliding out of his sleeve. "I think Nev might have developed a deep affection for it."

Katie's annoyance persisted, albeit in a different direction. "Well, at least the hedge doesn't have a vexing French accent."

Pretending to be unfazed, Harry pressed on, "In light of the circumstances, Nev, I'd appreciate any valuable insights about the hedge. I have a feeling I might become very well-acquainted with it in the weeks to come."

Nev, as if under a spell of enchantment, ran his fingers gently along the top of the hedge. "In a few weeks, it will flourish, reaching heights twice our own."

"Of course it will," Harry said, prodding the hedge with his wand. "I bet it's got some horrible catch to it, too. Like that gropy tentacle vine from first year."

"Anything else?" Harry probed further. "Like, does it sprout thorns, emit a foul smell, make loud noises, or anything else I might find inconvenient?"

Nev ceased patting the hedge, his expression thoughtful. "It's Lying Leylandii, a particularly rare type of cypress that's nearly extinct. It requires a substantial amount of magic to thrive, soaking it up like a sponge does water."

Harry squinted at the rows of verdant mystery. "And what does it do with all that magic?"

Nev shrugged. "Not much, really. It's nearly impervious to any spells we can cast, and when it grows larger, it even emits a magically resistant mist."

Katie, intrigued, couldn't resist the urge to test the hedge's defenses. She hastily pulled out her wand and cast "Incendio!"

Nev cried out, "Noooo!" as a gout of flames engulfed the nearest hedge.

Katie huffed in frustration. "Not even scorched. That's just not fair."

Nev sighed deeply, giving the hedge a gentle pat. "I suppose this little fellow has reached a point of considerable resistance already. By the time you face your task, there won't be many spells capable of damaging it."

Harry mulled over this information. "So, what you're saying is, it's going to be a complete pain." He retrieved a piece of parchment and began sketching the layout of the hedges. "I'd better plan ahead, then."

Nev shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "Actually, Harry, it's called Lying Leylandii because it constantly rearranges itself to deceive anything trying to navigate it. This way, the oldest, most resistant part of the hedge always surrounds and protects the newer growth. That's why they went extinct; Muggles chopped down wild hedges bit by bit. There are supposed to be a few patches of it left on the Isle of Skye and Anglesey, but in Britain, that's about it. We didn't help either. It used to be a trend to have a small maze of it, but when it fell out of fashion, they were all cut down."

"A maze..." Harry contemplated the formation of the hedges. "A maze made of magically resistant, self-rearranging, colossal hedges."

Nev nodded. "Yes. People used to place their most valuable items in the center, or have competitions. It was meant to be great fun."

"Oh, I'm sure I'll find out," Harry muttered to himself, his mind already racing with ideas. "Time to find some spells that can breach it, and let Viktor, Diggory, and Fleur worry about getting lost."

Neville squirmed uncomfortably. "I'm going to find Professor Sprout, Harry. I have so many questions about how she managed to make this thrive here."

Katie laughed, her voice light-hearted. "I think you're right, Harry. I think Neville is in love."

Neville squeaked defensively, "I'm not."

"Go on, Nev," Harry encouraged, glancing at the labyrinthine hedges. "I've got some serious thinking to do."

Katie nodded, her hair falling back from her eyes. "I'll stay. There's nothing else pressing to attend to on a Saturday, anyway."

"If you like," Harry replied as he casually strolled along the edge of the hedges, watching Nev's retreating figure as he headed toward the greenhouses.

Katie, with boundless energy, followed him closely. "I like." She couldn't resist giving the hedge another kick, setting off a ripple effect that traversed the entire length of the pitch.

Harry observed the ripple with a raised eyebrow. "Maybe don't do that, please? It might remember and take it out on me later."

Katie grinned mischievously. "Fair enough. But only if you tell me how your Yule Ball encounter with 'Frenchie' went."

Harry clarified, "It wasn't a date."

"Looked like one to everyone else," Katie teased. "Just ask Rita Skeeter. You could offer her an exclusive if you're upset with Frenchie, you know. Rita Skeeter enjoys taking a jab at her."

Harry sighed, "If I ever end up alone in a room with Rita Skeeter, one of us probably isn't leaving alive."

Katie couldn't help but provoke him. "I reckon she could take you. Her fake nails look like they could sever a man's arm with a single swipe."

Harry winced at the thought. "Not to mention her hair. Anything with that much bleach in it must be poisonous."

Katie prodded him playfully in the hip. "Come on, Harry. Stop avoiding my question. Tell me about the stunning Fleur Delacour."

Harry scowled, "Let's just say we probably won't be attending many Yule Balls together in the future." He pushed aside the memory of their encounter in the Room of Requirement, not wanting to dwell on it. "She's just another, well, another Katie, I suppose."

Katie simply shrugged. "Ah well, a shame, I guess, since she's really pretty, obviously very clever, and has a sexy French accent."

"Should I let her know you're interested?" Harry raised an eyebrow at Katie. "That is why you're asking me, right?"

Katie laughed, her eyes sincere. "No, I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Well, I'm fine," Harry assured her. He paused beneath the quidditch hoops on the far side from the school. "I've had dates that ended worse..."

She squirmed slightly. "You need to be with someone you enjoy spending time with and who understands you. So if she couldn't do that, then she wasn't the one for you anyway."

"Exactly," Harry agreed. But he couldn't help the silent admission to himself: Fleur did understand him, and he did enjoy spending time with her. The hollowness in his heart remained, a constant reminder that her feelings didn't match his. "Nothing can be done."

Katie poked him on the arm, pulling him from his reverie. "Oi. Stop thinking about other girls when you're with me. You're only allowed to fantasize about me tying my hair up or not wearing a seashell bra when we're together."

Harry snorted. "Alright, alright. It's your fault for bringing it up, anyway."

"Fair enough," Katie agreed, doing a playful spin and laughing. "Bet you're not thinking about her right now, are you? I reckon it's all seashells and brown eyes. No silver and blue to be seen."

Fleur's bright blue eyes and warm smile slipped into Harry's thoughts, and he couldn't help but sigh internally. "It's a good thing I've already seen a fair amount of you in the locker room, otherwise it'd be really hard to imagine you in that seashell bra."

Katie beamed at his words. "Oh, watching me change, were you? You never mentioned that before."

Harry chuckled. "It wasn't deliberate. I was, like, twelve. Wasn't even interested, just curious."

With a mischievous wink, Katie teased, "Want to find out if I've still got cooties? There's only one way..."

Harry laughed heartily, his spirits lifted by her lighthearted banter. "I've got to go plan for this maze." He leaned in, offering her a quick farewell.

Katie's breath caught as Harry's words hung in the air.

"Don't tell Nev," he whispered, "but I'm definitely going to try and find a way of destroying the hedges."

A small smile appeared on her lips. "Well, you have fun. I'm going to go find Angelina and Alicia. Gossip time!" She bounced away.

Harry chuckled and shook his head, then headed towards the chamber beneath the bathroom, his thoughts shifting to the enigmatic Salazar Slytherin.

Once inside the chamber, he called out, "Salazar?"

"What?" Salazar's voice responded from within the study.

Harry stepped into the room. "Do you know anything about magically resistant plants?"

Salazar's green eyes took on a distant look. "Helga did. She knew everything there was to know."

Harry continued, "What about Lying Leylandii?"

Salazar uncoiled the serpent from around his neck and let it slither onto the floor. "Tricky plant, that."

"There's a maze of it on the quidditch pitch," Harry explained.

"Auspicious timing," Salazar mused, stroking his chin. "How old is it?"

Harry admitted, "No idea."

Salazar nodded thoughtfully, occasionally pushing his curious serpent away with one hand. "Probably doesn't matter too much. There's a lot of magic in this area; that's the whole reason we built the school here. So let's assume it's going to be as strong as it can grow to be. You'll find a very magically resistant plant that emits a thick, magically resistant fog."

Harry frowned, realizing the challenge ahead. "Right. So, what do I do?"

"Well, you can't map it. The maze walls will move. So either you have to stumble through on the day, or find a way to breach the walls," Salazar explained, tapping his fingers in a slow staccato on top of his serpent's head. "There aren't many spells that can destroy something that magically resistant."

Harry pondered this challenge. "Which one should I try for?"

Salazar sighed and appeared to relent. "Given what we know about Tom and the horcruxes he's made, fiendfyre is probably something you're going to have to learn anyway."

"Fiendfyre," Harry repeated, trying to suppress a grin. "But that's dark magic."

Salazar, a bit exasperated, retorted, "There's no such thing! You know there isn't—oh, you're winding me up, aren't you, you ungrateful little urchin."

Harry couldn't help but laugh, knowing he'd teased the old wizard. "It brings me untold joy."

Salazar, still annoyed, continued, "So what do I do?"

"We're not doing fiendfyre in the study," Salazar said, his expression serious. "We shouldn't even do it in the chamber, really."

Harry grew concerned. "It's that bad?"

Salazar's eyes darkened. "It's not that hard to learn or cast, but it takes a wizard or witch of rare willpower to control it properly." The painting clapped his hands together. "I've no doubt you'll manage it, but I do wish we had somewhere else for you to learn."

Harry suggested, "Room of Requirement?"

Salazar shook his head. "No, Godric and Rowena's magic will be more delicate than the blood magic I used here."

Harry set the portrait down, resolute. "Right, so, the incantation?"

"No incantation," Salazar clarified, draping his serpent over his shoulders. "Fiendfyre's not really a spell, not like the charms or curses you've learned. Like soul magic and blood magic, it sits at the farthest, most abstract and complex branch of destructive magic. You have to want to destroy whatever you're casting it at. You have to want it so much you manifest your intent as an avatar of flame."

"Can it be something other than flame?" Harry asked, intrigued by the possibilities.

Salazar pondered for a moment. "It could, but there are few things that better fit the idea of destroying something than burning it to ashes." He stroked his chin. "Try it on that irritating golden egg. Make sure, though, you keep your focus. I don't want to be burnt to ash just yet."

Harry retrieved the golden egg and set it on the floor. "So, I just have to want to destroy it?"

"It can't just be a whim. It takes no small amount of desire," Salazar clarified, eyeing the golden egg. "If I were a person and not just a painting, I'd have no trouble with that irritating paperweight. You seem bizarrely fond of it, though, so I'd suggest thinking of something else that you do want destroyed."

Harry struggled to find a suitable target for his destructive intent. Then, in a flash, Privet Drive came to mind. The image of the meticulously kept suburban landscape, with its neat hedges, pruned roses, and fake smiles, crumbled into flames. Ice coursed through Harry's veins as he pictured it all incinerating.

He thrust his wand at the egg, and a flicker of red flame burst from his wand, rapidly melting through the gold casing. Half of the egg vanished as the fiendfyre wrapped around it like a viper.

"Bloody hell," Harry whispered in awe. "That's unbelievable."

Salazar's voice grew urgent. "Don't lose focus! Don't let it grow."

Harry, still not entirely aware of the danger, questioned, "Let it grow?" He looked back at the painting.

The red flame flared up, as if he had poured gasoline onto it. The intense heat seared at Harry's face and hands, and eerie whispers echoed from the crackling flames as the rest of the egg vanished.

"Put it out!" Salazar yelled. "Put it out! Opposite intent, strong will!"

Harry took a deep breath, conjuring a powerful image. Fleur's face materialized in his thoughts, framed by Hogwarts' towering spires, her silver hair, and captivating blue eyes. As he focused on preserving that image, the fiendfyre slowly faded and guttered out.

Harry wiped the sweat off his brow and winced at the toll that controlling fiendfyre had taken on him. "That's way more dangerous than anything else I've learned."

Salazar, ever the matter-of-fact mentor, reminded him, "You know how to fracture your own soul." He peered at the patch of scorched stone. "At least you got it out before it did any damage to the chamber. Fiendfyre damage is almost always permanent."

Harry grimaced, realizing the gravity of his actions. "I still need to practice."

Salazar advised, "No more today." He pointed his wand at the seared flagstone. "You're tired. Do it tomorrow when you're fresh, once you've managed to start it and put it out a good few times, then you can start pushing things a bit."

"Probably wise," Harry agreed.

Salazar mimicked him in a falsetto tone. "Probably wise... I am Salazar Slytherin, literally the greatest wizard to walk these isles and a good number of other places, too. Probably wise..."

"You're quite tetchy today," Harry noted. "Did your snake keep you up last night?"

"It won't stay still!" Salazar exclaimed, wrenching the serpent into a knot and hurling it into the background of his painting. "Wretched reptile. It'll be back in a few moments. The more I throw it away, the clingier it gets; it's like a bad penny with a really tickly tongue and terrible breath."

Harry chuckled at the description. "Well, on that note, I'll go do some research on maze competitions in wizarding Britain while a thousand pictures of Fleur stare at me."

Salazar offered some unsolicited advice. "Instead of sulking in a room with a load of creepy pictures, you could try and talk to her."

Harry's thoughts immediately went to the enchantment and manipulation he had experienced with Fleur before. "And get enthralled and messed with again? No thanks."

"At least her pictures don't talk," Harry retorted with a grin, as he made his way towards the chamber's entrance. "Or have annoying snakes!"

Salazar protested from the floor, "Don't leave me on the floor, Harry! Put me back up on the wall!"

Harry chuckled and waved off the painting. "I'll be back in a few hours." Salazar's colorful curses echoed up the stone steps as he made his way out of the Chamber of Secrets.

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