Chapter 7 - Spying, books and Death

.

"Parseltongue"

"Normal talk"

'Thoughts'

"Come on Harry. We are going to be late for lunch and I don't know about you, but I don't want to be hungry when casting charms," she said while tugging one of his robe's sleeves.

"Yes ma'am," he said, giving Hermione a salute.

Hermione didn't seem to appreciate his sassy attitude as she slapped his shoulder.

"Have I done anything wrong ma'am?" he asked in a mock innocent tone.

Harry's barb earned him another slap.

"Why yes, you impudent child," she claimed.

"Ma'am, I'm obliged to inform you that unless you stop assaulting me, we'll be late for lunch," Harry graciously informed Hermione.

Hermione turned around to look him in the eyes and he stared back.

Was it Hermione or Harry who went first? They didn't know.

They both started laughing. Two full-blown belly laughs.

Harry even dropped to his knees, he was laughing so hard!

When Harry had finally managed to get ahold of himself, he noticed that Hermione disappeared from his near vicinity.

He slowly got up, his abs screaming in protest, and detected her some meters ahead of him.

She was running towards the castle.

"She thinks that she can outrun me to the feast," he mumbled as realisation dawned on him.

Hermione saw the chance and she took it. That was a Slytherin-isque move in his opinion.

'Not bad,' he thought fleetingly as he started running behind her.

It took no time for the heavily trained quidditch seeker to start catching up. His lithe form, which had only formed thanks to Madam Pomfrey's potions and care, together with his godlike stamina -Wood's work- were no match for Hermione.

He almost caught up when something caught his attention.

A flash of silver in his peripheral vision that came from behind a small, nearby hill.

Unluckily, as everyone who spent enough time with Harry knew, Harry had a very inquisitive nature.

'Even if I go over there and check it, I'll still be able to outrun Hermione,' he quickly determined.

Unbothered by Hermione's growing distance between them, Harry reached the hill and tried to find the source of his curiosity.

His gaze stopped at a girl who was gracefully moving around the grounds. Her silvery blonde hair, which no muggle could ever have naturally, was put in a bun, presumably to be out of the way.

She was tall. Even though he couldn't say her exact height from that distance, she was definitely taller than him, albeit not by much.

She was also thin, though not a bad thin, and the way she moved made it obvious that she was strong for her size.

From what little Harry managed to gather, she was fighting imaginary opponents.

Her wand kept flashing different colours and most of the spells that followed were unlike any Harry had seen before.

The only spells that Harry recognised were the stunners that she seemed to throw every so often, each one hitting at what he assumed were pre-placed marbles of stones. He also perceived some summoned wind gusts, but couldn't for the life of him understand how she achieved utilising them for moving her long slender legs.

And lastly, he couldn't miss those terrifying fireballs that she first conjured and then banished in all directions; they flew at astonishing speeds.

He was mesmerised watching her glide around and cast spells with deadly precision; his eyes never failing to follow her form.

What little he could see from her face showed she was completely concentrated on performing her task.

Eventually, due to some unknown means, Harry managed to reacquire a semblance of control over his mind.

'That's Fleur Delacour. One of the other champions,' he realised.

How long he stood there, transfixed, he couldn't say. But he had to move! He couldn't be found out spying on her.

"God, that'd be embarrassing," he mumbled.

And he was about to leave, but she was turning around…

'Did she hear me?' he wondered incredulously.

Her long lustrous hair shook from the sudden movement as she cast another spell. Some kind of a whip made from fire materialised next to her. She flicked her wand and the whip cracked, its end finding another small stone and turning it into dust.

'Shit,' he repeated in his head as her face turned towards his direction.

Her dark blue and oh-so-entrancing eyes locked with his.

Harry, trying to act casual, waved at her. He WAVED at her!

After what felt like an eternity Fleur smiled and then opened her mouth, she was going to say something, Harry realised.

But Harry moved.

He ducked.

And who could blame him?

An impossibly good-looking young woman caught him watching her.

'I'm an idiot. Big brainless monkey!' he instantly decided.

Without further to do, he started running again, quickly putting the gorgeous French out of his mind.

'Hopefully, I can still catch up to Hermione and Fleur will leave me be,' he thought darkly.

[BREAK]

It turned out that his once bushy-haired friend was already in the great hall when he managed to reach her. He reluctantly concluded that he must have spent more time gawking at the French than he realised.

The charms lesson was much better than the transfiguration as he managed to perfectly cast the charm in the first quarter of the class, being the first to do so, and then proceeded to try and help his only friend, Hermione, to do the same.

They were learning how to cast the banishing charm, a charm that sent the target away from the caster, the opposite of the summoning charm. As Harry had already mastered the latter spell, he found it easy to learn the former one.

Shockingly, Hermione didn't protest at all and accepted his help. This led to Hermione managing to cast the spell as well as Harry by the end of the lesson.

It had another reaction as well, this one not of the good variety…

They were heading to the library, Hermione thought it'd be a good idea to research the past tournaments. It was something Harry was planning on doing by himself, but he was pleasantly surprised when Hermione recommended it.

"An excellent idea Mione," Harry remarked.

As they were about to turn around a corner, they both heard Ron's loud voice coming from somewhere behind.

"I tell you guys. Potter is trying to manipulate our kind-hearted Hermione into siding with him," he stated.

Dean and Seamus both voiced their agreement, adding their own derogatory comments on Harry.

They had moved to another hallway and Harry found Hermione's eyes looking at him pleadingly.

She knew he was to as going act, Harry always did.

"Go to the library, I'll catch up this time," he couldn't help adding the last part and flashed her a smile.

Hermione was about to open her mouth and say something but Harry's hand was faster.

His index finger massaged her lips, stopping whatever was about to come out.

"I promise," he added as he took off his bag and opened it.

He took out his invisibility cloak, surprising Hermione, and handed her the bag.

Hermione knew a lost cause when she saw one. Once Harry set his mind on something, it was almost impossible to make him relent.

"I'll be quick," he said and they parted ways.

As Hermione walked towards her second home, Harry put on his cloak and turned back, walking to the charm classroom's hallway.

Ron was still there, albeit not for long, and he was talking with whoever cared enough to listen to him.

Rather unsurprisingly, that did not include a lot of people.

Harry started jogging toward the boy, not wanting to miss anything he was going to say.

After Asmodeus' revelations, he wasn't too concerned about being found out while wearing his cloak.

Speaking of Asmodeus, Harry left him in the chamber as he didn't want to risk his existence coming to light just yet.

"No, I don't know how he did it, Seamus. The git didn't bother telling me. However, he did tell me why he did it, his reason for becoming the fourth champion of the Triwizard Tournament," the dick lied.

Satisfied that he at least got two of his roommates' attention, Ron started speaking again.

However, his voice level dropped, prompting Harry to go closer.

"… obvious if you think about it. The tosser didn't feel like he had enough fame and with an act of desperation managed to land himself in the tournament. You should have seen how gleeful he was when he told me," he revealed.

"Blimey mate!" came Dean's voice.

"Shhh. Don't shout," Ron quickly said in an undertone.

"What are we going to do Ron? We can't just let him hog poor Cedric's glory," declared Seamus with a resolute expression.

Ron made a hand movement, causing the two boys to move even closer to him.

"Listen here. I've got an excellent idea. When Potter comes to the dormitory tonight, we'll ambush him, cast a few spells and make him understand that even if his life's ambition is to get more famous, he can't go hogging it from good guys like us and Cedric," he professed, lighting his mates' faces.

They were nearing the great hall so Harry had to leave. He heard more than enough as it was…

[BREAK]

Harry walked inside the library, skipping past Madam Pince's vacant desk.

'Ugh. I'll have to search for Hermione now.'

He barely wandered any deeper inside when someone called him from behind.

"Ah, Mr. Potter watch your step. I'm giving you a fair warning that you had better be careful with any of the books that you are so graciously allowed access to," she pronounced.

Harry turned around to face the vulturelike countenance of Madam Pince. He couldn't help scowling at her sight.

Sunken cheeks, skin like parchment, and a long hooked nose, leaned from behind a bookshelf.

'How does this godforsaken woman know whenever I walk inside the library?' he wondered incredulously.

In his first year, Harry quickly established that the Hogwarts librarian, Madam Irma Pince, held a particularly strong dislike for him.

Every time he'd visit the library, whether he'd be alone or accompanied by someone else, Madam Pince would scowlingly exhort him to be careful around the books.

That was one of the main reasons he didn't frequent the library much. After all, who'd willingly go to a place they were unwelcomed?

There was also that one time, in his second week at the school when he accidentally dropped a book on the floor. He still remembered the shock of having an enraged adult, not Dursley, shouting at him so suddenly and unduly.

"Yes, madam," he remarked and for the first time he was mostly unbothered by her unjust attitude.

'If she wants to be a bitch for no reason, then let her,' he mused.

A certain dungeon bat came to Harry's mind, but he slightly shook his head not wanting to think of that man.

Her lack of conviction at Harry's words was palpable, but he didn't think twice about it.

His seemingly uncaring attitude came as a surprise to Harry, but he put it in the back of his mind for now.

"Miss Granger is currently in the History section, third row," she let him know, surprising Harry.

'Was she just helpful to me?' he thought hesitantly.

What was the world coming to?

He gave the librarian a passing nod and headed towards the deeper sections of the library.

The history wing was one of the farthest sectors, bordering with the restricted section of the library.

When he turned to the third row of the History wing, he was almost expecting to find it empty. However, against all odds, Hermione was there, just like Pince said.

She was leaning over a book, between her hands, with her hair flowing down and hugging her face.

Her hands were planted on a mahogany desk that accommodated countless books of all sizes and colours, left open on random pages.

She was currently speeding through the book placed under her.

'She must have read something unpleasant,' Harry thought as Hermione's eyebrows scrunched.

It must have been worse than they both initially thought as her expression cycled from disapproval to anger and finally horror.

"Read something good?" he whispered.

Even though he suddenly didn't seem to mind the librarian's attitude towards him, he wasn't going to antagonise her by giving her reasons to reprimand him.

Hermione gave a soundless squeak as she turned her body to face him.

"Harry!" she failed to speak softly, resulting in a slightly elevated volume.

"Hermione!" he couldn't help replying, mimicking her tone.

Harry knew that would have earned him a slap, were they closer and not in the library.

"Sigh. Come and read it yourself," she whispered in mock indignation while pointing at the book.

She pushed herself off the desk and pulled out her wand to cast two wingardium leviosas, levitating two chairs for them to sit on.

'Damn, I wonder if I could do that. She has a really good control of the spell,' Harry observed as the chairs silently landed beside them.

His mind flashed to another girl's precise control of magic that he caught sight of, not too long ago.

Unwittingly, he matched the image of Fleur with the girl sitting in front of him, his mind wandering to their other similarities…

'Hermione has a slightly smaller bosom but she's also younger, so she'll probably catch up. Her arse is almost as round but definitely less toned,' he scrutinized.

'Overall, body-wise Hermione's not much behind Fleur,' he summed up, after having another good look at her body.

'But Fleur is in her own league,' he deemed.

It was then that he realised in horror that Hermione was a girl and that he was also, shamelessly checking her out.

'Thank god she wasn't looking at me,' he thought, thanking whatever few lucky stars he had.

He quickly fought off the blush that kept trying to form on his face and sat on the chair that his friend provided him.

In an attempt to stop his mind from trying to calculate the feeling of touching various body parts of his friend, Harry reached for the book.

'Holy hell, that's Hogwarts, A History, the book that Hermione keeps babbling about since the first year,' he noted as he picked up the book.

Any sexual thoughts that plagued his mind, quickly died down after he read what caused Hermione's reaction.

.

The Triwizard Tournament was last held in 1792 at Hogwarts. The first task involved catching an adult cockatrice in an enclosed space. Needless to say, it was a horrendous disaster. The first two competitors met valiant ends, both having managed to substantially harm the monster. That's what everyone thought at least. When the third competitor went in, the young man who represented Hogwarts, everything changed. It seemed that for some reason, everyone had forgotten about a cockatrice's human-like intelligence. Whether that was because it had managed to fool everyone or because no one cared enough, is a topic of speculation.

The beast opened its beak and talked! It talked in English… It called us all fools, with an accent not unlike ours, and then proceeded to go on a rampage. It once again opened its majestic beak, but instead of more words of mockery coming out of it, it breathed gas. A life-killing, poisonous gas. It went everywhere… The competitor died instantly and before anyone managed to react, the barrier protecting the spectators started cracking. The beast got out and managed to kill most of the people in the stands and was finally finished off by the headmaster of Durmstrang. Not even the headmasters managed to get out of the ordeal uninjured...

.

"Woah," Harry muttered despondently.

If the last tournament was any indication of how his first task was going to be, it'd be a good idea to get in contact with a gravedigger soon.

After a whole minute of silence, Hermione grabbed his hands.

"Harry… Don't worry about the last tournament. You've heard what Professor Dumbledore said. He said that the Triwizard Tournament was revived with restrictions in place to prevent potential deaths," she whispered.

Harry turned his head to look at her when he felt something wet fall on his hand.

His friend was silently shedding tears, probably barely holding herself from sobbing.

"Sigh. Let's ignore the fact that you are crying, which says something about what you truly think… Do you honestly think that there are good enough restrictions that are able to ensure a student's survival against something like a bloody cockatrice? Let's assume that this is the case… And that's a big assumption. Would Dumbledore, the man who put the god damn philosopher's stone behind easily surpassable obstacles, think of and I quote 'good enough restrictions'?" he asked rhetorically.

He was mad.

His chances weren't looking good.

He could die.

He didn't want her answer, for he knew the truth of his words.

Any words to defend the headmaster died on her lips as she accepted the danger her friend was in. She finally started sobbing, albeit not before flicking her wand and murmuring quietus.

'A spell to block the sound,' he supposed.

Harry didn't know why but it was him that was hugged Hermione and tried to comfort her, instead of the other way around.

Wasn't it, his life that was sentenced to a most probable death in front of an action-hungry crowd?

'Girls,' he mused.

They stayed like that for a very long time…

By the time Hermione finally got off him, her face sporting a slight blush, the sun had set.

"Sorry about that," she whispered.

"Don't worry about it. You know that I'm here for you when you need me. Best friends and all that," he replied, not bothering to control his voice level this time.

"Shhhhh," she urged, drawing a confused look from Harry.

"Didn't you cast a sound-blocking spell?" he asked quietly.

"Harry, that was more than two hours ago! You should know that spells don't last forever," she answered.

While Harry once again found himself questioning the reliability of his own mind, Hermione recast the spell.

"It's fine now," she announced at a regular volume, managing to bring Harry back to the land of the living.

"To answer your question, I did in fact cast a spell that stops the sound from leaving its area. The incantation is quietus and its hand movement is a backwards C. It's the simplest spell that I've found and that does the job reliably," she informed him.

Harry stored that in his head for future use and gave a nod to show that he got that.

"Well, since you didn't bite and ask me to teach you the spell, I'll ask instead. Did you get anything from stalking Ron?" she inquired, prompting Harry to sigh so loudly that if Hermione hadn't cast quietus again, Madam Pince would have probably heard it.

'Dodged a bullet there. Or a vulture,' he thought absentmindedly.

"Yep... He started by spewing a bunch of lies about me, probably hoping to start some other unpleasant rumour. That wasn't the worst of it though… As he moved towards the great hall with Seamus and Dean, he filled them in, on his — oh-so-great idea! Do you want me to tell you his exact words or not?" he inquired heatedly, darkening Hermione's expression.

"Word by word," she whispered and not because she was in the library.

'What have you done Ron…' she brooded.

"I've got an excellent idea. When Potter comes to the dormitory tonight, we'll ambush him, cast a few spells and make him understand that even if his life's ambition is to get more famous, he can't go hogging it from good guys like us," he said, doing a quite good Ron impression.

"That's what Ron said to the two dumbasses, and they both agreed. They looked at him as if he enlightened them with some great philosophy about life… They were fucking ecssstatic Mione," he commented furiously, almost slipping to parseltongue in the end.

Hermione didn't seem to notice though, as she closed their distance yet again and hugged Harry.

It wasn't her signature bone-breaking hug. It was gentle yet firm, communicating a sense of security and reassurance.

"I'm so sorry Harry. I didn't know that Ron said such vile things behind your back… He never bad-mouthed you in front of me," she told him, her voice cracking with emotion.

"Ron is a damn wanker," she commented venomously.

She was angry, furious even toward their mutual friend. However, it was quickly drowned by the all-encompassing sadness that she felt for Harry.

"Language!" Harry scolded in mock exasperation, drawing a laugh from both of them.

She didn't get to respond as the figure of Madam Pince materialised from behind a bookshelf.

"It's nearing curfew and the library is about to close down for the night," the librarian notified them.

As the embarrassed teens untangled from their hug, Pince saw Hermione's tear stains on their clothes.

"You dare cry near my books?" she whispered threateningly.

'Is she serious right now?' Harry mused in disbelief as he turned around to look at Hermione.

Was it the fact that Hermione seemed about to cry again or was it the pent-up wrath that he didn't get to release because he was near his friend?

He wasn't sure.

He reached his pocket for his wand, noticing for the first time how lengthy the entire procedure was.

"Finite," he hissed the general counter spell, removing the sound barrier that Hermione had placed.

"Did you really fucking say that? I mean, really!?" he demanded, needing a surprising effort to stay in his mother language.

Before any of the females could react, he spoke again.

"As the librarian, you should know well by now how Hermione treats bookss. She'd sooner torture herself than willingly damage any of your bloody books," he asserted, prompting a gasp behind him.

Without waiting for a retort that he knew was coming, he utilised the librarian's shock by grabbing his friend and leaving.

Hermione finally stopped doing a fish-out-of-water imitation when they reached the portrait of the fat lady.

"Harry, you shouldn't have said those things," she scolded him.

'If there's a universe where Hermione does not think of teachers or authority figures as Christ's Apostles, I'll eat my firebolt,' he thought.

"Well, well. What's this? Naughty night adventures? Is our champion and his pretty little girlfriend coming inside or not?" asked a voice, making Hermione blush as she deduced who the said girlfriend was.

She turned around wanting to correct the fat lady but Harry grabbed her hands, making her face him.

"Ignore her, please. I have to tell you something," he announced, making Hermione's mind snap back to their conversation.

"Is it about Ron's so-called ambush? Don't worry, I'm sure that if we confront him together, he won't do anything. Actually, I'd like to see him try," she declared, causing Harry's lips to momentarily form a smirk.

"No. I mean yes? How do I explain this… Basically, I didn't sleep in the Gryffindor dormitories yesterday," he revealed, causing Hermione to gasp again. "What? Why? Is it because of Ron? Of course it's because of Ron! You know what, let's go inside so I can give him a piece of my mind!" she yapped, stopping only to catch her breath before continuing.

"Where did you sleep? Was it safe?" she demanded, ceasing her monologue only when she noticed Harry's expression.

He was smiling.

'I may have lost a best friend, but I've gained much more. Hermione's the best,' he thought.

"What's wrong with you? What's with the smile?" she mumbled embarrassed, her usual questioning fervour missing.

It wasn't every day that she was being looked at with such an innocent and radiant smile after all.

Luckily she wasn't aware of his thoughts, otherwise, her pink cheeks would have become redder than tomatoes.

"Nothing's wrong with me and please do try not to worry about me, at least not too much. Don't bother with Ron, just let him be… I promise he's not worth your effort. And the place I'm sleeping is safe. Hell, it's probably the safest place in Hogwarts," he said, trying to imitate Hermione's as-a-matter-of-fact tone.

She was going to protest, they both knew it.

Alas, Harry was quicker as he pulled her into another hug. There were a lot of those going around that day…

"Thank you for everything Hermione but it's past curfew… We'll talk tomorrow. I promise," he added, using her compliance for rules against her.

Harry left before she could answer.

'Damn, that's becoming a habit. It's not necessarily a bad one though,' he mused as he sped down the Hogwarts staircase while putting on his father's cloak.

Surprisingly, there was a road to the second floor waiting for him.

He swiftly reached Moaning Myrtle's Bathroom and made his way towards Salazar's secret chamber.

"Ahhh, you come back at lasst! I wasss starting to think that you've forgotten all about this great old man," greeted Salazar while pointing at himself.

"It was a long day," simply stated Harry and headed towards the nearest couch.

'Looks better the shabby bed I transfigured yesterday,' he mused while reaching down with his hand to check its softness.

He must have been content with it as he proceeded to sit down.

"Harry," sounded a hiss right before he felt a familiar sensation on his leg.

"Hello Asmodeuss. How's your day been," he yawned.

"Boring... The great ssspeaker drew weird diagramss all day and did not wish to sspeak with me," came the reply as Ash finally reached his destination, Harry's arm.

"And it paid off! I've concocted a whole new ritual jusst for you my heir," he announced excitedly, prompting Harry to turn his head in his direction.

"You've finished already?" he asked doubtfully.

He didn't know a thing a thing about rituals but he had the impression that they'd be harder to put together.

'What's all the fuss about rituals when a millennia-old geezer can make one of them in a single day?' he considered.

He didn't know that Salazar's casual show of skills couldn't be replicated by anyone alive. No one could even come close to the rituals the old Slytherin designed.

He was just that good.

"Of course I did. I don't want to boasst but I'm the finesst ritualisst that I know of," he claimed.

"Humble," Harry snarked.

As one might have expected, he didn't think much of Salazar's words.

'Are all parselmouths so boastful? Will I also become one when I grow older?' he thought with a shiver, envisioning his older self boasting about his Hogwarts adventures to his children.

'Your father was so great that he slayed a basilisk with a sword at a mere twelve years old. I didn't even use magic!' he'd say.

'Nope, nope! That won't be happening, not if I have a say about it,' he decided, purging the image away.

"Well, will you tell us what will it do?" he cheekily asked him, causing the founder to mumble about youths disrespecting their elders and Ash to hiss in excitement.

"Fine. I'll give you a very basic description so your Gryffindor brain can understand… The phoenix tears will be sacrificed to skyrocket your healing properties. You will be capable of mending any injury or ailment at an inhuman speed. I'm afraid even I can't say how fast it will be as I've not experimented with pure phoenix tears. You'll have to wait and see," he started, surprising Harry.

If he had any reservations about rituals before, those doubts were now tossed out of his mind.

'Just maybe having super healing would allow me to survive all the dangerous situations that I keep finding myself in,' he hoped.

"The basilisk venom that is known for its potent magical properties will be used to unlock any latent magical potential that you have. I can't tell the exact results for this one either," he added.

"Lastly, the Horcrux of the dark lord will be offered to Death. Since you are of my blood, the Peverell magic must be running through you. As such, Death will heed your sacrifice and offer you proper compensation. Needless to say, I cannot predict what that will be either," he finished.