CHAPTER 41: CARTOGRAPHY

Harry stood at the edge of the dark, forbidding waters beneath the intricately crafted forked-tongue bridge. Its surface gleamed like a polished mirror, casting eerie reflections on the surroundings. 'I suppose there's no better time than now,' he muttered under his breath.

Salazar, the enigmatic founder of Slytherin House, peered at Harry from his portrait, which leaned casually against one of the serpent figurines adorning the bridge's railing. 'You're planning to start this now?' he inquired, his eyes fixed on Harry. 'It's the morning, after all.'

Harry's response dripped with sarcasm, his voice as dry as the parched earth in a desert. 'Does the time of day really matter to the magic?' he retorted. 'Am I going to receive a message saying, "Sorry, but the magical ritual you're trying to perform is currently unavailable during business hours"?'

Salazar crossed his arms, regarding Harry with a wry smile. 'Well, obviously not,' he replied. 'I simply assumed you might have other plans for the day. But then again, I forgot that you have a penchant for sulking and skipping lessons and detentions. You know, the usual behavior of a troubled, edgy teenager.'

A chuckle escaped Harry's lips. 'I attend the ones taught by Snape,' he confessed. 'It's the only way to avoid Dumbledore's well-intentioned but irksome interference. There's no point in bothering with the rest. What are they going to do, send a letter to Vernon and Petunia? Now that would be a spectacle.'

Salazar's emerald eyes softened with understanding. 'You have more important matters to attend to,' he agreed. 'Very well, let's not waste any more time. Shall we begin?'

With a practiced flick of his wrist, Harry drew his wand from his concealed sleeve and summoned a small collection of ingredients from the depths of Salazar's hidden study. 'How long will this ritual take?' he inquired, his gaze locked on the task at hand.

Salazar considered the question, his eyes narrowing slightly. 'The duration depends on how quickly and accurately you can master the intricate patterns of the ritual,' he explained.

'Just enough time before lunch,' Harry said with a grin, though a knot of apprehension and excitement tangled within his gut. 'Excellent.'

Salazar offered a word of caution. 'You'll feel tired for the rest of the day, and I'm not talking about the occasional yawn. It will be more profound than that.'

Harry brushed off the concern. 'I only have one piece of magic to perform later today – the DA's meeting, where I need to enchant a piece of parchment,' he explained. 'I'll make a quick visit to the hospital wing for a potion or two to keep me on my feet. Madam Pomfrey has a knack for patching me up. She always does.' He reached for the book on rituals. 'So, what exactly am I aiming for? I assume it involves patterns of seven, given its magical significance.'

Salazar nodded. 'You'll be creating three concentric seven-pointed stars. They should be large enough for you to stand within, and it's crucial that you get all the runes right. You'll need to make a few modifications to the one in the book to achieve the right balance.'

Harry contemplated the task at hand. 'That's going to require quite a bit of blood,' he murmured.

'Yes, and it must be fresh,' Salazar emphasized. 'The ritual's potency diminishes as the blood starts to congeal.'

'I'll start by preparing the wormwood and bayberry,' Harry decided. 'Do I simply separate them?'

Salazar nodded, gesturing to two jars of leaves with his wand. 'Keep them distinct and make sure they're readily identifiable as wormwood and bayberry leaves. It's essential to maintain the correct mental association. Place bayberry leaves at four points of each star and wormwood at the remaining three, ensuring they align in the same way for all the stars.'

'In other words, I need to draw it all,' Harry mused as he organized the leaves with a flick of his wand. 'Considering the significant benefits and the permanence of this enchantment, it doesn't feel like I'm making a massive sacrifice. If it's just pain and blood, why doesn't everyone do it?'

Salazar's eyes darkened, and he spoke with gravity. 'You've given more than just blood, Harry. Though it helps, remember that you once insisted on being the noble hero, avoiding any resemblance to Tom.'

Harry grimaced, recalling his past convictions. 'I do.'

'Did it sting when you had to confront your own choices?' Salazar inquired.

Harry's lips twisted as he remembered the inner struggle. 'Yes.'

'And here you are,' Salazar sighed. 'Still believe you haven't sacrificed enough?'

Harry turned his wand over in his palm, contemplating the weight of his choices. 'I suppose I've sacrificed quite a lot,' he admitted. 'It's strange, though. Would the ritual have worked if you hadn't told me about it?'

Salazar considered the question. 'Perhaps not as effectively, but it would have worked well enough,' he replied, a small, proud smile tugging at the corners of his lips. 'You're fully aware of how much you've had to give up compared to others just to survive. And your determination to survive is unwavering. Everything you do is infused with that intent, and it will serve you well in every ritual you undertake. They all share the same ultimate goal and the same profound sacrifice. That's why ordinary wizards and witches cannot engage in this kind of magic, Harry. It's rare for anyone to be compelled to surrender so much and yet still possess the drive to persevere.'

Harry felt a surge of emotion, a pride that Salazar recognized and acknowledged his unique journey. It was a true sense of accomplishment, unburdened by the false trappings of being a hero. 'I guess I should start drawing everything,' he said, refocusing his attention on the leaves by his feet.

Salazar offered a gentle warning. 'Be cautious, Harry, especially when making your own modifications. The runes will carry slightly different associations for you than they do for me. My guidance can no longer assist you; the complexity of intent has gone beyond that point.'

With resolve in his eyes, Harry raised his wand and etched runes of purple flame into the floor, shaping the three concentric, seven-pointed stars. He meticulously compared the pattern to the one in the book, making minor adjustments to clusters of runes as needed.

'That's as close to perfection as you can get,' Salazar reassured him. 'Now, you only need to trace the stars with your blood and take the plunge.'

Harry's stomach churned, and his heart raced, hammering against his ribs. 'Take the plunge,' he thought. 'We can't look back. We can't lose Fleur.' He drew a deep breath, bared his wrist, and pressed the tip of his wand into his skin.

'Here we go,' he whispered.

As the tip of his wand traversed his wrist, his smooth, pale skin parted like water, stinging and burning like basilisk venom in his veins. Crimson welled up, trickling down his arm, turning into a throbbing gush. Harry gritted his teeth to stave off the nausea and raised his wand to continue tracing the purple runes from start to finish. A web of magic unfurled from the tip of his wand, forming a woven net of intent, poised for casting.

He wiped the sweat from his forehead and raised his arm above his head to control the flow of blood. 'I'm ready,' he declared with unwavering determination.

'Tie something around your arm, just in case,' Salazar advised, and with a flick of his wand, Harry conjured a thin piece of black rope, securing it tightly around his left bicep. 'And take off your glasses. You won't be needing those again.'

Harry obeyed, removing his glasses and tossing them aside. He raised a wary question, 'Will I pass out?'

Salazar nodded. 'Probably not, but it will be quite painful. The ritual will exact as much pain as it deems fitting, once it accounts for everything else.'

Harry released the web of magic, causing the runes to pulse, shifting from deep indigo to a bright violet. A vivid crimson light radiated from their edges as his blood turned into steam. The small piles of leaves hissed and exploded into thick clouds of white smoke.

The smoke stung Harry's eyes and nose. He squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath. A blinding white flash seared through his eyelids. The stinging sensation intensified, like a thousand tiny hooked needles embedded deep within his eyes. A frigid tingle wrapped around his feet, creeping up his legs, through his thighs, and ascending to his waist. His muscles went numb, as though he stood in ice-cold water.

"This is terrible," Harry thought as the cold, numbing sensation continued its ascent, now encroaching upon his neck and creeping into his face. "How long will this last?"

The burning in his eyes flared into searing agony. Bright white light pierced through his eyelids like a lance. Harry pressed his fingertips into his temples and clenched his jaw. His magic drained away, leaving him hollow and gasping, as if water flowing into parched earth.

The fire in his eyes gradually subsided, and warmth began to creep back into his limbs. With cautious hope, he wondered, "Is it done?" He slowly opened his eyes.

Blackened, bloodied leaf ash surrounded him, and the purple runes had guttered out on the stones beneath his feet. The sharp scales of the serpents in the alcoves stretched toward the ceiling, and the peeling gold leaf of the book titles in Salazar's study gleamed through the open door.

Harry spotted his shattered glasses on the floor, realizing with satisfaction, "It worked," and promptly vanished the broken spectacles.

'Did it work?' Salazar inquired.

Harry nodded. Dizziness overwhelmed him, and nausea bubbled up in his stomach. He lowered himself to the floor with a thud and took shallow breaths through his nose.

Salazar couldn't help but chuckle. 'Regretting not doing this in the evening?'

Harry let the wave of sickness pass and managed to pull himself back to his feet. His stomach growled, a reminder of his physical needs. 'I'm famished. If I could muster the energy to make it to the Great Hall for lunch, I'd say I timed it perfectly.'

'Go to the hospital wing before eating, get the cut on your arm healed, then regain some energy and try to do as little as possible for the rest of the day,' Salazar advised.

Harry slid his wand back into his sleeve, groaning at the thought of the remaining tasks. 'I still have to enchant that map,' he lamented. 'I might need a week of sleep after that.'

Salazar, understanding the exhaustion Harry was feeling, folded his arms and said, 'I'll permit you to leave me here for now. If you attempt to put me back, we might both end up in the pool.'

Harry grimaced and began vanishing the remnants of the ritual, moving away from the ritual site in the chamber. Each step up to Myrtle's bathroom felt like a herculean effort, and a deep, hollow ache burned in his legs with every stride he forced himself to take.

The bathroom mirror revealed a pale, shivering, sweat-soaked figure with a blood-soaked left sleeve and no glasses. A faint, otherworldly gleam danced in Harry's eyes. 'Perfect,' he thought. He rinsed his face in one of the functional sinks, then dried it with his other sleeve. 'Madam Pomfrey can fix my arm and give me a few things to keep me going long enough to enchant the map. After that, I can finally get some much-needed sleep.'

Harry stumbled through empty corridors, his limbs shaking and burning, until he finally reached the hospital wing, his injured arm tucked behind his back.

Madam Pomfrey, the Hogwarts matron, immediately strode over upon seeing him. She pulled her wand from her pocket. 'What have you done to yourself now, Mr. Potter?'

Harry, feeling drained, mumbled, 'I think I've lost quite a bit of blood,' as he presented his injured wrist.

She hissed under her breath and waved her wand over him. 'How did this happen? You're covered in magic. I can barely discern what's going on; there's so much of it!'

Harry merely shrugged in response.

Madam Pomfrey cut away his tourniquet and tossed it aside. The cut welled up, with crimson seeping in from the edges and trickling down his arm, forming large red blots on the white-tiled floor. She used her wand to trace the line of the cut, and it crept closed, with the flesh knitting back together in the wake of her wand's glowing tip.

'Thank you,' Harry whispered.

'This was created by magic, Mr. Potter,' Madam Pomfrey said with a stern frown. 'If you aren't going to tell me how this came about, then I can only assume the worst and deduce you've been dueling in the corridors somewhere!'

'Not even close,' Harry replied with a hint of exhaustion still in his voice.

Madam Pomfrey put her wand away and moved over to one of the cupboards, rummaging through vials and dropping a collection of dark red ones onto the bed. 'You'll need all of these,' she said, gathering the vials of dark red potion and picking up two more. 'You've lost almost a liter of blood. And these two, one for the pain and one to give you some energy back.'

Harry lowered himself onto the end of the bed, the persistent ache in his legs still gnawing at him. 'Better than losing two liters,' he remarked.

Madam Pomfrey jabbed a finger at the potions. 'Why aren't you drinking?'

Harry promptly gulped them down one after the other, grimacing at the taste. 'I feel very liquidy now,' he said as his stomach sloshed with every movement.

'If I tell you to stay here, will you actually do it, Mr. Potter?' Madam Pomfrey's expression softened.

Harry pretended to consider it for a moment, then grinned. 'No.'

Madam Pomfrey sighed. 'I didn't think so.' She began tidying up. 'Honestly, it's like you have no sense of self-preservation. Off you go, then. Make sure you eat something before lunch ends. You're excused from anything strenuous, magical or otherwise, until the end of the week, and I'll be talking to your teachers to ensure they know.'

'Fair enough,' Harry agreed, realizing that he didn't have any magical tasks in his classes for the time being.

He swung himself off the bed, still feeling a bit dizzy, and checked his left hand. Pinkness had returned to the fingers. His reflection in the windowpane stared back with exhausted eyes. 'Better than before, though. I look like I've been playing Quidditch for ten hours, not dealing with first years.' Harry swept his hair to one side and limped from the hospital wing, slumping onto a bench in the Great Hall next to Neville.

Cedric looked up from the far end of the table and expressed concern. 'You look terrible. Are you alright?'

Harry smiled and helped himself to as much food as he could reach. 'I had a run-in with Madam Pomfrey.'

Cedric watched Harry devour enough mashed potato to form a small mountain. 'Did she order you to eat?'

Harry swallowed his mouthful and admitted, 'She might've done.'

Neville pulled his lunch out of Harry's reach. 'Have you heard about the most recent decree?'

'Another one?' Harry glanced around for a newspaper and noticed half a dozen copies scattered down the far end of the table. 'What was it?'

Neville explained, 'There's some new law about teachers not being allowed to discuss anything with students that isn't related to their subject. It's absolutely ridiculous.'

Cedric chimed in, 'It's because of the breakout from Azkaban. My dad says there's no evidence that Sirius Black is even in the country, but Fudge doesn't want anything to contradict the Ministry's version of events.'

Harry inquired, 'Does this apply to Umbridge? She might have to spend her lesson actually discussing the subject, if she knows any of it, instead of badmouthing anyone without seven generations of lineage in some fancy old book.'

Cedric chuckled. 'You do realize that your family is one of those families, right, Harry?'

Harry grinned wryly. 'I highly doubt Umbridge will stick to it.'

Neville's eyes sparkled with anger as he added, 'She'll keep spewing nonsense the whole lesson. You know, she's happier when you're not there, Harry, because every time you're in her class, you either turn it around on her or just ignore her. You can't defend yourself when you're playing truant.'

Harry sighed. 'A shame.'

'We should get going,' Neville said, pointing up at the storm clouds gathering on the Great Hall's enchanted ceiling. 'You promised to come to this one, Harry.'

Harry shot a look at Cedric out of the corner of his eye. 'I'm coming.'

Cedric added with a laugh, 'I'm coming too. Neville just asked me. I think he wanted an assistant who would actually teach someone, but I'll wait for Harry to finish eating in case he collapses on the way up.'

Neville swung himself off the bench. 'You were right about the wand, by the way. It hasn't made a huge difference, but the trembling has stopped, and I don't have to exert myself as much to achieve the same results, so thanks. I'm glad I listened.' He held up his hand, displaying faint red marks in the size and shape of Harry's wand on his palm. 'Not so glad about these, though.'

Cedric inquired, 'There was something wrong with his wand?'

Harry explained, 'He was using his father's wand. It wasn't the best match he could have had.'

Cedric nodded. 'A lot of wizards and witches use their family wands. Your own wand is always better, but if it works well enough, some prefer to save the gold.'

Harry was curious. 'So why are you coming to our little group? Can't imagine you need to learn anything.'

Cedric replied, 'I'm not a fan of Umbridge. She's wrecking your chances of passing exams and landing good jobs in the future. The Ministry is spouting nonsense, too. Everyone knows there's something off with the version of events they keep pushing, but there's something I can't quite put my finger on.' He frowned and shook his head. 'Do you ever get that feeling you've forgotten something important?'

Harry put on a bright smile, but underneath, a cold rage simmered. 'All the time.'

Cedric continued, 'I talked to Hermione Granger. She's not convinced by things either, really not convinced. That girl is borderline obsessed.'

Harry nodded. 'I'm not surprised. She can get pretty intense about things.'

'I wanted to ask you about what happened,' Cedric said. 'I remember you stunning me, but that's all I recall.'

Harry pushed his plate away, his appetite gone. 'Did Hermione not tell you what I told her?'

Cedric's forehead creased. 'She did, but I know you had a falling out with most of your housemates, and I thought you might have more information.'

Harry wrestled with the decision of whether to tell Cedric and soften the blow or keep himself clear of trouble and let Hermione bring it all up. He ultimately decided, 'I know what happened, Cedric.' He rose from his seat, walked toward the door, and ascended the stairs, carefully avoiding the trick step before pausing at a quiet corner. 'I can tell you, but before I do, let me say that you might wish I didn't.'

Cedric's face paled, and he murmured, 'I had a feeling you'd say something like that. Sometimes, I get flashes, little fleeting feelings. I remember horror, and I remember guilt.'

Harry began, 'Bagman only cast one curse at any of us, the Imperius Curse, and he cast it at you.'

Cedric recoiled in shock. 'Then I – I killed–'

'No,' Harry quickly reassured him. 'You're not responsible for your actions, and you had no warning or way to defend yourself.' He sighed. 'I was hoping you wouldn't remember. I Obliviated you to undo the Imperius Curse. I hoped it wouldn't work if you didn't recall the commands, and then I stunned you and snapped your wand so nobody would be able to pin things on you.'

'Thank you,' Cedric croaked. 'I owe you a debt I can't repay. If you hadn't done that, I might be in Azkaban; my parents would've been heartbroken, and I'd be worse than dead.'

'Best not to tell Hermione,' Harry suggested. 'If you continue acting like you don't remember, nobody will attract suspicion. I'm not going to get in trouble for what I did.'

Harry contemplated keeping Hermione in the dark. She probably hadn't considered anything beyond her need to know the exact details of what happened to Viktor. She already knew everything she truly needed to know, and having every perfect detail wouldn't make much of a difference.

The tense silence continued as they climbed the stairs. Cedric's clenched fists bounced against his thighs, and he stumbled up the steps, staring ahead like a blind man into the sun.

Harry reassured himself, He'll be fine. He's a good person and strong-minded.

A group of about twenty-five students had gathered around Neville by the troll tapestry. Harry recognized the faces of most of those who had attended the meeting in the Hog's Head. Hermione shouldered her way through the group and dragged Cedric to one side, waving the list and a quill at him. Neville paced the corridor, the anticipation growing.

The Room of Requirement appeared as an unspectacular wooden door flowing from the stone, causing excited whispers among the students. Neville then ushered everyone inside.

Hermione waved her list at the group until they drew back against one side of the room. 'Welcome to the first session of Dumbledore's Army. I'm glad that everybody came, even though this group is now technically illicit, courtesy of Umbridge.'

A few small smiles appeared.

Katie, who had joined Harry, asked, 'What is this place?' Her tie hung askew from her collar, and ink spots marred the front of her shirt, visible through the two undone buttons.

Harry murmured, 'The Room of Requirement. It's quite handy.' He added silently, Not that anyone here but me knows more than a couple of its secrets.

Katie straightened her tie, tugged at her uniform, ran a finger over her eyebrows, and swept her hair back behind her ears. 'It's awesome,' she commented, impressed. She took hold of Harry's wrist and tugged. 'I think Neville's going to make a speech.'

Harry grinned. 'This should be good. He's still quite shy around people he doesn't know well. It's a bit strange, actually. He's worse with them than he is with complete strangers.'

Neville pulled a piece of parchment from his pocket and scanned it. 'S-so, like Hermione said, welcome to the first meeting and the p-place where we'll be practicing for all the future sessions–'

Smith interjected, 'What are we doing?'

Harry couldn't help but find the question rude. Nev's trying to help you, and you can't even listen to him for a few minutes. Neville continued, 'W-we'll be testing the Shield Charm and the Disarming Charm. Split into pairs, one can shield and the other can try and disarm. Does anyone want to demonstrate?'

Harry stepped forward and said, 'I will. With Smith.'

Neville stepped back, and the others moved away from the Hufflepuff student.

'Ready, Smith?' Harry asked.

Smith shrugged and stuck his hands in his pocket. 'I can't cast the Shield Charm.'

Harry cast a jelly-legs jinx, hitting Smith square in the face and causing him to collapse on the floor amidst everyone's laughter.

'What the hell was that for, Potter?' Smith spat.

Harry fixed him with a cold stare, and Smith quailed. 'If you're going to come here and ask for Nev's help, then you should be polite and not interrupt. I'll undo the jinx once you've apologized.'

'Fine,' Smith muttered. 'I apologize for interrupting. Happy?'

'If I'm not, you'll find out soon enough.'

Neville performed the counter to the jinx, and Smith pushed himself off the floor, slinking back into the group.

Neville continued, 'Right.' He conjured his own shining silver shield. 'The Shield Charm is about intent to protect. If your focus is strong enough, it can be an effective barrier against most spells.'

Terry Boot asked, 'What spells isn't it effective against?'

Neville explained, 'It's not effective against ones that are powerful enough to break your magical shield or ones with potent intent to simply pierce through it. The Unforgivables require such strong intent just to successfully cast that no Shield Charm can deflect them.'

Ron grunted and added, 'So, dodge those ones.'

Katie squeezed Harry's wrist and whispered, 'Or you'll end up with a really big scar on your face.'

Harry whispered back, 'Hush, you. This is no place for your glibness and sarcasm. Professor Longbottom will reprimand you.'

Katie giggled. 'I don't think so. He didn't do anything about Smith being a prick. Seems more likely you'd spank me for him.'

Harry chuckled. 'No, I know you too well. You'd just enjoy it.'

Katie blushed a little and then grinned. 'Only because it's you, Harry.'

Harry snorted. 'Have you learned the fire-proofing charm yet? You might need it if someone hears you talking like that.'

Katie's smile slipped slightly, and her hand fell back to her side. 'I actually do know that spell. That's not why, though. Obviously.'

Harry laughed. 'You probably learned it so you could set people's brooms on fire during casual Quidditch games and not get burnt yourself.'

Neville instructed, 'Split up into pairs. Fortunately, there's an even number of us, so nobody will be left out.'

The group separated and drifted apart across the room. Harry sat down on the floor.

Katie plopped down beside him, bumping his knee with hers and tugging her skirt hem down her thighs. 'Look. They've all given us loads of space, just in case you decide to start icing people again.'

'I'll ice you,' Harry teased. 'Or I would if I could be bothered.'

'You'd miss me,' Katie said, nudging his knee with hers. 'Oi, come on.'

'Madam Pomfrey forbade me from doing anything strenuous,' Harry said. 'I'm afraid I have to sit here and watch.'

Katie beamed. 'You know I'll hex you on the floor just as happily as if you were standing.'

'You wouldn't assault someone who's ill, would you?'

She inspected him. 'I suppose you do look moderately awful. Is it contagious?'

'Bit late now,' Harry replied. 'You're probably infected already. Or you would be if it was actually contagious.'

'Good,' Katie said. 'I can probably skip one session of practice. I suspect they'll need more than one meeting to get the hang of this spell.'

An array of slight shimmers and patches of bright light wavered and flickered throughout the room. A blonde Ravenclaw paired with Ginny produced an odd, grey-tinted nebulous shield that deflected hexes at random into the other pairs around her.

'Not going to practice, Harry?' Neville asked. 'Even Cedric's practicing with the older students.'

Harry glanced over at where Cedric was repeatedly producing a bright flash of light. 'They're trying to do it wordlessly.'

Zacharias Smith managed to only shield his back, and his wand sailed from his hand to bounce across the floor in front of Harry's feet. 'He's not very good, is he?' Katie said. 'Maybe he's only planning on running away like Umbridge insists, so he only wants to protect his back,' Harry suggested. 'I am not.' Smith scowled and retrieved his wand. 'Shut up, Potter.' Harry smirked. 'You're not going to last very long in a duel, then.' Smith stalked away. Katie sidled a little closer across the floor and yawned, resting her head on Harry's shoulder. 'Wake me up if something interesting happens.' 'Do I look like a pillow?' 'No.' Katie squirmed around on his shoulder, then grabbed a cushion that appeared in her lap and tucked it under her head. 'You don't feel like one, either.' She closed her eyes. I still need to enchant the list, but I can relax for a bit. Harry tilted his head back against the wall and let the sound of shields and wands skittering over stone fade away. Something nudged his foot. 'I think that's enough for one meeting.' Nev stepped away into the middle of the room. 'Keep an eye on your badges for the time of the next meeting; we'll try to organize them around things like quidditch.' 'Wakey wakey, sleeping beauty.' Harry patted Katie on the cheek. Her eyelids flickered, then she yawned. 'You're meant to kiss sleeping beauty to wake her up, Harry.'

Zacharias Smith found himself in a rather awkward situation during the dueling practice. As spells flew back and forth in the Room of Requirement, he managed to shield only his back, and his wand sailed from his grip to bounce across the floor, coming to a stop right in front of Harry's feet.

Katie, observing the spectacle, couldn't resist a dry comment. "He's not very good, is he?"

Harry, always ready with a clever response, contemplated the situation. "Maybe he's just planning on running away, like Umbridge insists, so he only wants to protect his back."

Smith, far from pleased with the banter, scowled and quickly retrieved his wand. "Shut up, Potter," he snapped.

Harry couldn't help but smirk. "You're not going to last very long in a duel, then."

Clearly annoyed, Smith stalked away, determined to improve his performance.

Katie, who had been watching the exchange, sidled a little closer to Harry, her energy waning. She yawned and rested her head on his shoulder, her casual demeanor hinting at a growing comfort level. "Wake me up if something interesting happens," she mumbled.

Harry chuckled, bemused. "Do I look like a pillow?"

Katie squirmed a bit, then grabbed a cushion that conveniently appeared in her lap, tucking it under her head. "You don't feel like one, either," she admitted before closing her eyes.

Harry, relieved that he could momentarily relax, leaned back against the wall and allowed the sounds of shields and wands clashing against the stone to slowly fade into the background.

Suddenly, a nudge at his foot interrupted his temporary reprieve. It was Neville, signaling the end of their practice session. "I think that's enough for one meeting," he announced as he stepped into the room's center. "Keep an eye on your badges for the time of the next meeting; we'll try to organize them around things like Quidditch."

With a gentle pat on Katie's cheek, Harry playfully tried to wake her. "Wakey wakey, sleeping beauty."

Her eyelids flickered, and she yawned again. "You're meant to kiss sleeping beauty to wake her up, Harry."

"I prefer to live," Harry quipped. "Someone's not a sharer."

Katie's response to Harry's wake-up call was as playful as ever. She bolted upright, her eyes wide with mischief. "Well, you missed your chance, Harry," she teased. "Unless you didn't and took your chance to cop a feel of me while I was sleeping." She cupped her chest, then smoothed out her skirt with a grin. "Nope, everything seems to be in the right place." She winked at him. "Guess you've gotten away with it this time."

Harry felt heat creep onto his face, and he stammered, "Like I said, I choose life."

Katie laughed at his embarrassment. "I wouldn't tell her. I don't want your death on my conscience."

As the other students dispersed, Neville and Hermione remained in the center of the room, discussing their plans.

Harry followed Katie out and around the corner, calling after her, "I'll catch you in five; I need to check when Nev wants me to teach the Patronus."

Katie bounced away with a cheerful, "I'll get us a chair in the common room."

Harry chuckled and couldn't help but add, "I could live with you having your own chair."

However, he had other plans in mind. He drew upon the remnants of his magical energy and disillusioned himself, slipping back along the wall, heading toward the room where Neville and Hermione were having their discussion.

Hermione was pondering the best hiding spot for the list, glancing at the wall where the Room of Requirement could form. "You think we should hide the list in there?"

Neville nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I tried to hide it earlier and found a huge room of hidden stuff. Not much chance of anyone finding it; someone in the group might guess that's where we've put it, but it won't be easy to find, even if they discover the hidden room."

With a determined look, Hermione decided to take action. "Let's see what you've found." She opened the door to the room.

Harry, still under the invisibility cloak, slipped through the door behind them, pondering the implications. It might be tricky to explain how Umbridge found the list, but as long as I'm not a suspect, it doesn't matter.

Inside the hidden room, Hermione and Neville discussed the placement of the list. Hermione pointed out, "We need to put it somewhere we'll be able to find it again. Pick something easy to recognize."

They took a few paces into the room and stopped beside an ugly-looking warlock figurine, considering it as a potential hiding place.

Neville grinned as Hermione hid the list underneath the bust, ensuring it wouldn't be easily discovered by casting an anti-summoning enchantment. "He'll do as a landmark," he said with a chuckle. "We won't be able to forget that face."

Hermione's cautious approach drew a nod of approval from Harry. "Smart. There goes my first explanation of how Umbridge found it."

Still concealed under the invisibility cloak, Harry crouched down in a small gap across from the bust, alongside a tarnished silver circlet and a small collection of dusty, forgotten bottles of firewhiskey. Among the relics, a sapphire-adorned tiara caught his attention, sparkling and shining like sunlight on water. It was undeniably pretty, but Harry quickly reminded himself of his purpose.

With the room now empty, the door securely closed, he stood up and dispelled his disillusionment with a sigh. It was time to get to work. "Accio ink, accio quill," he murmured, making the list fly out from under the bust. He grabbed a bottle of ink from the air, sending a dozen more in various directions, and snatched the least broken quill from the scattered assortment at his feet.

Harry imbued the ink with his intent to conceal, feeling the magical toll it took on him. Then, he dipped the quill into the ink and began sketching a circle, labeling it with runes for "creature," "keeper," and "home." He continued to draw a meandering trail from the circle to a final rune, "Ehwaz," the Futhark representation of advancement and progress.

The result was intentionally ambiguous, a trail of runes that could be interpreted in various ways. Harry allowed himself a small, thin smile as the ink gradually faded from sight. "Follow the spiders, Umbridge," he mused to himself. "Follow the spiders."

Harry leaned against the bust and closed his eyes for a moment, allowing the weight of their mission to momentarily slide off his shoulders. "Almost there, Harry," he assured himself.

With a renewed sense of purpose, he realized that Umbridge needed to be able to find the list. He coaxed one last shred of magic forth and cast a faint compulsion charm onto the list. "Marietta can feed her a landmark, and then the charm will do the rest," he thought.

Intrigued by the curious reaction of the sapphire circlet, Harry picked it up and placed it on the bust of the warlock, making it highly conspicuous. "There, very obvious," he muttered to himself.

Now, it was time for the final step of their plan. Harry took a deep breath and imbued the second part of the enchantment into the parchment, just as Fleur had taught him. The only thing he needed was a trigger phrase to activate the revealing part. His eyes scanned the room and landed on a stack of old, faded, yellow leaflets with Grindelwald's mark at the top. It was perfect, he thought, for a man who would sacrifice a child for the sake of a country.

"For the greater good," Harry whispered as he tucked the list and the map underneath the conspicuous bust, finalizing their clever plan.

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