Chapter 26
Suspicion
After Hermione woke, we left for an early breakfast, our hands linked awkwardly as we descended the empty stairs. The chilly wind blew occasionally from the open windows, and the stone handrails felt cold to the touch. Clear azure sky stretched into the horizon, its brightness almost hopeful even amidst the
As we passed through the corridors, some portraits seemed quite surprised and, as I sent my shadow to see, all of them were gone after we left, seemingly to report to a certain white-haired manipulator. For all we know, the whole castle is his domain and we're better off showing strong than hiding it in secret. Though, ickle Ronnie who's peacefully sleeping now would not be so pleased to have his two friends date each other.
As my mind wandered to the boy, Hermione spoke up:
"Harry... Should I let Ginny know about us? I mean, she's had feelings for you for a long time..." Hermione's gaze remained fixed on the ground, avoiding mine, and I sensed a slight tremor in her hand.
"Of course, Hermione. You shouldn't have to keep it a secret - although I didn't expect you to be so eager to stake your claim," I teased, lightening the atmosphere.
Hermione blushed, and a shy smile played on her lips as she responded. "Well, I just don't want things to be awkward, not that... you know? And, um, thanks, Harry," she mumbled, her fingers nervously playing with the edge of her robe. The contrast between this adorable, nervous Hermione and her usual walking encyclopaedia self was quite striking, but charming nonetheless.
I grinned back reassuringly. "No need to worry, Hermione. We'll figure it out together. Be sincere, I'm sure Ginny Will understand." As I spoke, I noticed her blush deepen, but this time it seemed to be accompanied by a sense of relief.
She took a deep breath, visibly gathering her composure. "You're right, thanks Harry. Let's just hope it goes smoothly," she murmured, sounding more confident now.
With a soft pat on her shoulder, we continued our walk, the awkwardness dissipating as we shared a comfortable silence and occasional small talk, looking forward to what the future held for our 's POV:
I woke up yawning to the bright morning light, gushing into the dormitory. Harry, I noticed, has already woken up - not a surprise at this point, he's been doing it over the summer, yet I somehow felt uneasy today.
Shrugging off that stray thought, I slipped into robes and quickly went to breakfast. Hermione was already there, buried in a book, and I couldn't help but smile at her focused expression. Though that alone brought a sense of comfort, Harry, sitting way too close to her, gave me a violent urge to hex or jinx him away.
'He's Harry Potter,' I reminded myself, shaking my head. 'I'd have to swallow my hat and then some before he figures out how to woo a girl.' My mind went to the obvious crush he had on that Ravenclaw Seeker - Cho Chang, was it? - and cringed painfully.
With that in mind, I plopped down opposite the duo, grabbing a piece of toast with nonetheless more force than necessary. "Morning," I grunted.
"Morning, Ron," Hermione said, looking up from her book with an unnatural smile. "Slept well?"
"Yeah, s'fine," I replied, glancing between her and Harry. "You two were up early."
Harry nodded, his gaze meeting mine briefly before darting away. "Yeah, I couldn't sleep much," he said. Harry seemed to signal Hermione with his eyes, as if they had a secret they couldn't share with me.
"So... you and Hermione went to breakfast... together?" I asked, unable to stop the demanding tone in my voice.
Hermione shifted tensely, her grip on her fork tightening. "Yes, we met halfway and went down together," she said, not meeting my eyes.
"Right," I said slowly. "Must've been a lucky coincidence, huh. It's not like you two had a date today, that would be quite awkward for me." I laughed nervously, glancing at both of their expressions.
Harry nodded, responding neutrally. "Yeah, I just had some things to discuss."
I narrowed my eyes at him, a suspicion growing in the back of my mind. "Things?" I prompted, trying to keep my tone light despite the vague, nagging doubt that gnawed at me.
But Harry just shrugged, his gaze darting back to Hermione. "Just... stuff," he said vaguely, and I couldn't help but notice the way his hand brushed against hers under the table, a subtly intimate gesture that spoke more than their evasive words.
I glanced between them, my stomach twisting with a mix of jealousy and confusion. They were hiding something from me, I was sure of it. Knowing I couldn't get anything out of them, for now, I pushed aside my doubts and forced a smile as I reached for some bacon. "Right, well, glad you two sorted it out."
Hermione and Harry exchanged a quick glance before turning attention back to their breakfast. As I watched both of them, a sinking feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. And for the first time since I knew Harry, I felt an unbridgeable gap between us.
Chapter 27
Skrewts
After reassuring Hermione who was worried about Ron's less than favourable reaction, we headed to our first class of the day, Herbology. On the way, perhaps as relief to the previous tension, Hermione harped on incessantly about OWLs.
"Have either of you even started studying for our OWLs yet? They're probably the most important exam we'll have!"
Ron shrugs, looking at me for support:
"Not really, Hermione. I mean, we still have time, right?"
"Time?! Ron, do you not know that they determine our future career!", Hermione retorted.
"Dunno, Fred and George got three each, I think they're doing fine..."
Just as my bushy-haired girlfriend was about to chide Ron for his laissez faire reply, I reminded:
"Look, can't you two can continue this later? Look, the greenhouse will be crowded today, and Professor Sprout won't care if you're at each other's necks there."
Both shared a hesitant glance before nodding in tacit understanding, quickly hurrying into the Herbology classroom. Fortunately for us three, the ensuing lesson merely involved collecting Bubotuber's pus, a plant that looks like squirming slugs with large swellings.
Squeezing them looked positively nauseating, but oddly satisfying and stress-relieving. After an unsaid truce, Hermione and Ron both abused their Bubotubers and got much more pus than required, earning a point each from the Head of Hufflepuff for "active participation".
A bell echoed, signalling the end of this lesson, and the class split. Us along with several Griffindors headed down the sloping lawn towards Hagrid's wooden cabin, by the edge of the Forbidden Forest. The Half-Giant was standing outside his hut, one hand on the collar of his enormous but cowardly black hound, Fang.
A few open wooden crates laid on the ground at his feet, and as we drew closer, an ominous rattling noise reached our ears, occasionally interrupted by what sounded like small, Weasley-esque explosions.
"Mornin'!" beamed Hagrid. "Better wait fer the Slytherins, they won' want ter miss this - Blast-Ended Skrewts!"
I'm reminded of the monstrosity in the books: half-manticore creatures with scales that eat rotten flesh, have no potion usage and did more damage to Harry than the Acromantuala and Voldemort combined. Noticing my unconscious shudder, Hermione glanced at the crates uneasily.
"Come again?" said Ron, oblivious.
Hagrid pointed down into the crates as the other Griffindors gathered around. While Ron was distracted, I gave Hermione's hand a playful squeeze, earning a light, embarrassed slap from her. Unlike us who are enjoying each other's company, those who viewed the mysterious creature got an unsavoury feast to their eyes.
"Eurgh!" squealed Lavender Brown, jumping backwards and colliding into Ron. Both ended up on the ground, Lavender in a questionable position that elected a few snickers. Ron's ears seemed red, but he didn't try to push the girl off.
"Got yourself a girlfriend, Weasley? Thought even you'd be more private doing that...", Malfoy arrived with the Slytherins, about to continue to tease Ron until he saw the creatures inside. Rightfully freezing up and looked as if he was going to puke, of course.
The Skrewts, fitting of their horrendous name, are deformed, shell-less lobsters, slimy with legs sticking out in very odd places and no visible heads. Worse yet, there were about a hundred of them in each crate, each about six inches long, crawling over one another, bumping blindly into the sides of the boxes. Occasionally, sparks would fly out of the end of a skrewt, and it would propel forward several inches.
"On'y jus' hatched," said Hagrid proudly, "so yeh'll be able ter raise 'em yerselves! Thought we'd make a bit of a project of it!"
"And why would we want to raise them?" questioned Malfoy apprehensively. Nothing but the greatest respect for the Half-Giant stopped Hermione, Ron and myself from nodding in agreement.
Hagrid looked stumped, apparently not having thought of such common sense.
"I mean, what do they even do?" asked Malfoy. "What is the point of them?"
After thinking hard, Hagrid said roughly, "Tha's next lesson, Malfoy. Yer jus' feedin' 'em today. Now, yeh'll wan' ter try 'em on a few diff'rent things - I've never had 'em before, not sure what they'll go fer - I got ant eggs an' frog livers an' a bit o' grass snake - just try 'em out with a bit of each."
"Ouch!" yelled Dean Thomas after barely ten minutes. "It got me!"
Hagrid hurried over looking anxious.
"Its end exploded!" protested Dean, showing Hagrid a burn on his hand.
"Ah, yeah, that can happen when they blast off," said Hagrid, nodding. He seemed to have no problem with an injury that would have resulted in expulsion for endangering students in the Muggle world. While marvelling at the complete lack of protection laws in the Ministry's system, I witnessed a few more accidents on the side.
"Ah, some of 'em have got stings," explained Hagrid enthusiastically, as Lavender quickly withdrew her hand from the box.
"I reckon they're the males... The females have got sorta sucker things on their bellies. . . . I think they might be ter suck blood."
"Well, I can certainly see why we're trying to keep them alive," said Malfoy sarcastically. "Who wouldn't want pets that can burn, sting, and bite all at once?"
'Pretty useful student-torturing devices, for sure.', I thought, 'is this guy even a son of Death Eater or what?'
Sneaking a small Skrewt into my inventory, I pulled Hermione away from the danger.
"Just because they're not very pretty, it doesn't mean they're not useful," Hermione snapped. "Dragon blood's amazingly magical, but you wouldn't want a dragon for a pet, would you?"
Though Hagrid grinned at this defence, Hermione had a hard time keeping her multiple complaints away and averted her gaze from him. The ensuing rest of the lesson went on tensely, with a few more students falling prey for the poison stings or blasts.
"Well, at least they're small," said Ron as we made our way back up to the castle for lunch and while later.
"They are now," sighed Hermione in an exasperated voice, "but once Hagrid's found out what they eat, I expect they'll be six feet long."
"Well, that won't matter if they turn out to cure seasickness or something, will it?" said Ron, slightly absent-mindedly.
"You know perfectly well I only said that to shut Malfoy up," replied Hermione. "As a matter of fact I think he's right. The best thing would be to vanish a lot of them before they start attacking us."
I nodded in agreement to her statement.
"I'll see if I can find some potent poison to feed them. I have a feeling Hagrid will ask us to play with those Skrewts as if they're some kind of pet..."
With tacit understanding from both Ron and Hermione, we decided to head to the library after lunch to nip this poisonous, blast-ended problem from the buds.
Chapter 28
Divination
After the bell rang, me and Ron headed to North Tower where Divination is taught by the Seek-descendant, Professor Trelawney. The sickly sweet perfume spewed forth as we opened the trapdoor into the room. The stuffiness is elevated by thick, closed curtains as the circular room is lit by dim reddish light cast by countless gas lamps. We squeezed through the dozens of occupied chintz chairs across the room, and took our seats.
"Good day," said Professor Trelawney in her signature misty voice. Ron jumped as she seemingly appeared from behind, but my shadow had already sensed her presence.
The Seer descendant's large eyes peered at me with a pity-filled expression she always wore towards Harry. An absurd amount of beads, chains, and bangles on her glittered in the firelight.
"You are preoccupied, my dear," she said mournfully. "My inner eye sees past your brave face to the troubled soul within. And I regret to say that your worries are not baseless. I see difficult times ahead for you, alas... most difficult... I fear the thing you dread will indeed come to pass... and perhaps sooner than you think..."
I ignored her whispery voice with a nonchalant expression. Professor Trelawney lost interest and took a seat on her large armchair in front of the fire, facing the cluttered classroom.
"My dear, it is time for us to consider the stars," she said. "The movements of the planets and the mysterious portents they reveal only to those who understand the steps of the celestial dance. Human destiny may be deciphered by the planetary rays, which intermingle..."
Of course, none of her rambling really mattered in the Potterverse, not so much as a self-mockery JK Rowling put in, comparing herself to a rambling madman. Except for her trance state, Professor Trelawney may be the only Hogwarts teacher that does more harm than good to the students, which is outrageous when a certain half-giant makes students take care of half-manticores in class.
"Harry!" Ron interrupted.
"What?"
I glanced around: the whole class was staring at me. I didn't bother hiding my disinterest and stared at the hysterical Professor Trelawney reluctantly.
"As I was saying, my dear, you were clearly born under the baleful influence of Saturn," said the Professor, resenting the fact that I had openly ignored her.
"Born under - what, sorry?" I genuinely couldn't care less.
"Saturn, dear, the planet Saturn!" said the irritated Professor Trelawney, seemingly disappointed that I wasn't thrilled by this fact. "I was saying that Saturn was surely in a position of power in the heavens at the moment of your birth... Your dark hair... your mean stature... tragic losses so young in life... I think I am right in saying, my dear, that you were born in midwinter?"
"No," I answered, barely holding in a ridiculing laugh, "I was born in July."
Ron hastily made his laugh sound like a hacking cough as Trelawney looked indignantly around for the next target to pick on.
After half an hour, the whole class had been given a complicated astrology chart, and had to fill in the position of the planets at one's birth. Having my infinite storage memory really comes in handy as I flipped through a few wikis to refresh my Potterverse knowledge.
"I've got two Neptunes here," I said quite randomly to Ron, "that can't be right, can it?"
"Aaaaah," the red-head imitated Professor Trelawney's mystical voice, "when two Neptunes appear in the sky, it is a sure sign that a midget in glasses is being born, Harry..."
Seamus and Dean sniggered loudly at his attempt, though not loud enough to drown out Lavender Brown's excited squeals: "Oh Professor, look! I think I've got an unaspected planet! Oooh, which one's that, Professor?"
"It is Uranus, my dear," replied Professor Trelawney.
"Can I have a look at Uranus too, Lavender?" said Ron, unable to stop himself from the obvious joke.
Most unfortunately for him, Professor Trelawney understood the reference and was not amused. This was perhaps the reason why she gave us so much homework.
"A detailed analysis of the way the planetary movements in the coming month will affect you, with reference to your personal chart," she snapped, sounding much more McGonagall-esque than one might expect. Her fierce gaze stopped at the seat next to mine. "I want it ready to hand in next Monday, and no excuses!"
"Miserable old hag," said Ron bitterly as we descended the staircases towards the Great Hall for dinner. "That'll take all weekend, that will..."
I felt a soft hand squeeze mine as our bushy-haired friend showed herself from behind.
"Lots of homework?" greeted Hermione brightly. "Professor Vector didn't give me any!"
"Well, screw him," replied Ron sullenly.
We reached the entrance hall as a loud, pretentious voice rang out.
"Weasley! Hey, Weasley!"
We turned to see three wild Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle standing there, each looking rather pleased about a piece of writing in their hands.
"Your dad's in the paper, Weasley!" said Malfoy excitedly before any of us could reply, shoving a copy of the Daily Prophet at our faces and speaking very loudly, so that everyone in the hall could hear. "Listen to this!
"FURTHER MISTAKES AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC
It seems as though the Ministry of Magic's troubles are not yet at an end, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. Recently under fire for its poor crowd control at the Quidditch World Cup, and still unable to account for the disappearance of one of its witches, the Ministry was plunged into fresh embarrassment yesterday by the antics of Arnold Weasley, of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office."
Malfoy looked up smugly.
"Imagine not even getting your father's name right, Weasley. It's almost as though he's a complete nonentity, isn't it?" he mocked. "Oh, I forgot, Weasleys are just a bunch of blood traitors, after all."
Enjoying everyone's attention and not noting my indifference, Malfoy continued:
"Arnold Weasley, who was charged with possession of a flying car two years ago, was yesterday involved in a tussle with several Muggle law-keepers ("policemen") over a number of highly aggressive dustbins. Mr. Weasley appears to have rushed to the aid of "Mad-Eye" Moody, the aged ex-Auror who retired from the Ministry when no longer able to tell the difference between a handshake and attempted murder. Unsurprisingly, Mr. Weasley found, upon arrival at Mr. Moody's heavily guarded house, that Mr. Moody had once again raised a false alarm. Mr. Weasley was forced to modify several memories before he could escape from the policemen, but refused to answer Daily Prophet questions about why he had involved the Ministry in such an undignified and potentially embarrassing scene."
"And there's a picture, Weasley!" gloated Malfoy, flipping the paper over and showing it to Ron. "A picture of your parents outside their house - if you can call it a house! Your mother could do with losing a bit of weight, couldn't she?"
Ron was shaking with fury. Everyone was staring at him. I waited patiently for Barty Crouch to arrive and watched the petty fight on the sidelines.
"Oh yeah, you were staying with them this summer, weren't you, Potter?" sneered Malfoy. "So tell me, is his mother really that porky, or is it just the picture?"
"I wouldn't be the one asking, Malfoy." I replied, smirking irritably. "At least, she's still luckier than your mum, not giving birth to a bigot like you."
Malfoy's pale face went slightly pink.
"Don't you dare insult my mother, Potter! "
"The truth hurts, my boy," I mockingly imitated Dumbledore's grandfatherly tone and turned away, priming my shadow to dodge Malfoy's sneak attack.
BANG!
Screams erupted as I felt my shadow pulling me aside, a white-hot spell sailing wide near my face. I leisurely reached for my wand, but a second loud BANG soon echoed through the entrance hall.
"OH NO YOU DON'T, LADDIE!"
The man himself. Barty Crouch, in Professor Moody's disguise, limped down the marble staircase, his wand out pointing at a pure white ferret, which was shivering on the floor - Malfoy, obviously. He turned to look at me - at least, his normal eye - the other one was pointing into the back of his head.
"Did he get you?" The disguised Death Eater growled, his voice hoarse and rough.
"No," I replied, "missed."
"LEAVE IT!" Crouch shouted.
As I looked around amusedly, Crouch clarified:
"Not you - him!" He jerked his thumb behind at Crabbe, who was about to pick up the transfigured Malfoy. Crouch limped towards the three, the ferret giving a terrified squeak and took off, streaking toward the dungeons.
"Oh no you don't!" roared Crouch, pointing his wand at Malfoy and made him fly ten feet into the air, smack to the floor, and then bounced upward once more.
"I don't like backstabbers," he growled as the ferret bounced higher and higher, squealing in pain. "Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do..."
'Bit rich of you to say that... I'm pretty sure Moody was ganged up on by Pettigrew, Crouch and baby Voldy.', I rebutted in my head.
The ferret flew through the air, its legs and tail flailing helplessly.
"Never - do - that - again -" the Death Eater spoke each word as the ferret hit the stone floor and bounced upward again.
"Professor Moody!" exclaimed a shocked voice.
Professor McGonagall was coming down the marble staircase with a large book stack.
"Hello, Professor McGonagall," said Moody calmly, bouncing the ferret still higher.
Chapter 29
Countermeasures
Despite Professor McGonagall's protest, Crouch refused to turn Malfoy back to his original form, citing appropriate punishment for sneakily hexing me. The disguised Death Eater eventually was forced to do so, however, as our Griffindor Head pleaded:
"Moody, we never use Transfiguration as a punishment! Surely Professor Dumbledore told you that?"
Though this might displease the fanatically loyal Crouch, it worked in his favour as the Slytherin's are afraid of confronting him and the rest admires his no-nonsense attitude and magic - even my bushy-haired girlfriend showed a disapproving attitude for the extreme behaviour but sighed lightly of relief.
Ickle Ronniekin, on the other hand, positively beamed at Malfoy's terror, confidently claiming Moody would be the greatest DADA professor and showed off, to anyone who listens, that it was his father who had met the retired Auror over the summer.
My thoughts were slightly different from the two friends, as Crouch's hatred for Malfoy and negligence towards my reaction was quite enlightening. Though in the books it appears he only wanted my favour, this Crouch might actually resent betrayers more than the one who actually "defeated" the Dark Lord.
As one of the few times complete transfiguration was done on humans, the psychological effect disappoints me slightly. Crucio, it seems, is much more effective and versatile at both inflicting pain and forcing confessions. The only thing that stands out is how Malfoy somewhat behaves like a ferret afterwards, perhaps unconsciously, that warrants further investigation - Wormtail, who stayed in rat form for a long time, also exhibits this trait.
Noticing my distant gaze, Hermione pinched my hand and asked worriedly:
"You okay, Harry? Professor Moody seems quite... extreme, isn't he?"
"Yeah, sorry, I was just thinking about whether human transfiguration could be useful to learn, that's all..." I replied, smiling wickedly.
"You're joking, right?", she asked, peering sideways at my expression, "Professor McGonagall said it was illegal!"
"Dark Wizards don't care if a spell is allowed or not, Hermione", I retorted, "and I'm going to need all the help I get if I'm hypothetically chosen for the Triwizard tournament, right?"
"Harry's right - look, you don't need to disapprove only spells you can't do..."
Greeted by an intense glare, Ron faltered and went silent. Before Hermione could berate him, however, a certain Luna Lovegood accompanied by Ginny poked my back and whispered, with her dreamy and misunderstand-inducing voice: "Harry, can I have a minute?"
Of course, unable to deny such an earnest request, I swiftly departed from the scene with Luna, expertly ignoring the suspicious look sent my way. The girl merely tilted her head bemusedly after we stopped, approximately three floors from the Great Hall.
"Uhm... hello?... What did you mean to say back then?", I asked after waiting awkwardly for her nonexistent question. Only after I waved my hand in front of Luna's eyes did they refocus themselves on me.
"Your chapter, Harry. You promised me, remember?", she replied, with the utmost seriousness(?).
Feeling thankful to my past self for preparing it, I pulled out the parchment for the prologue and introduction of the novel.
Luna received it with her innocent smile: "Thank you, Harry. I think Hermione had something to say to you there..."
At those last words, I slowly turned around to see my girlfriend striding through the hallway, her temper splitting up the crowd like Moses did to the sea. Hermione's smile sent shivers up my spine, and I sighed at the trouble I got myself into, barely one morning into our the rest of the week, Crouch sneaked into Snape's cabinet only once, presumably for Polyjuice ingredients. Aside from spying on disguised Death Eater(s), the Marauder's Map is truly useful in avoiding professors at night, much to my delight. This allowed me to sneak into the library's Restricted section with little incident, or simply "borrowing" books that would arouse suspicion such as textbooks of previous years.
On the subject of studying, Hermione found out about my nightly escapades on Wednesday and, to my surprise, tagged along, mumbling something about making sure I'm not sneaking off somewhere. Though she criticised me for not practising spells and forgetting them over the summer - a perfect misunderstanding for my knowledge being self-taught in less than two months - Hermione quite sincerely held my hand, physically and figuratively, while relearning three years of knowledge.
By Friday, the combination of eidetic memory and Hermione being a great teacher allowed me to just barely catch up with theoretical Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, Herbology at 3rd year level. Snape had more reason to criticise my less than ideal practical skills in class, but failed to dock more points off Gryffindor when I answered every question he asked, much to Ron and Malfoy's astonishment.
The most frustrating caveat, of course, is my inability to cast the Patronus charm, though I did not mention this to Hermione and had to rely on the Room of Requirement and mental space for studying that spell. Of course, if nothing goes wrong this year, I will not have to display the glowy stag, but better be safe than sorry.
Chapter 30
Curses
After a week of anticipation (and apprehension for me), Griffindors finally have a class with the famous Auror Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody. Although Professor Lupin set quite a high bar for DADA, there's much to be optimistic about in most student's eyes.
From the books, Moody's class consisted of quite practical dark magic defence, as he was a Death Eater in disguise. Unforgivable Curses are not often seen or experienced (Crucio could potentially induce insanity and Avada Kedavra literally causes death), and learning about them from the Restricted Section would definitely send a glaring signal to Dumbledore, so a safe environment to fight off Imperio would be welcome.
That said, just to be safe than sorry, I turned to my mind space and asked:
"Are there any items that can resist Imperio? If possible, permanently?"
"May I assume Magneto's helmet is out of the question?", replied the voice, having known my (lack thereof) magical accomplishments and therefore inability to hide such an obvious physical item.
With a metaphysical nod from me, the voice continued:
"From my knowledge, Viktor's Neural Neutralizing Drugs could remove uncontrollable impulses as well as any chance of Imperio being effective - though a permanent dose would also render the user emotionless. I would suggest an on-demand injection before experiencing the curse - it's your choice, sir."
"Set the dose just as you said.", I replied before returning to the classroom where myself, Hermione and Ron were settling down for our first DADA lesson. Before long, the signature clank-clank of the prosthetic leg echoed out the doors.
"Constant Vigilance!", shouted the impersonator as he strode into the room as all students jumped up in surprise - Neville helplessly falling on his back.
"If I were a Dark wizard, most of you here would not be alive by now. Obviously, your previous professor did not adequately prepare you for this subject. Now, who can tell me what you learnt last year?"
Seamus, or Dean, I cannot tell, raised his hand timidly.
"Professor Lupin taught us Red Caps, Boggarts, Hinkypunks, Grindylows, Kappas and Werewolves..."
"Quite thorough with Dark creatures, eh? However, this class is behind - very behind - on curses," said Crouch. "And so, for one year, I am to show you all the nasty things wizards can do to each other - otherwise known as the Dark Arts."
At these words, several students from wizard families, namely Neville and Ron, showed both fear and hesitant curiosity, choosing to listen raptly. The Professor paused, his magic eye swirling around the classroom and continued seriously, if somewhat reverentially:
"Now, a common misconception of Dark magic is that it's inherently evil and powerful. Like all magic, be it a trivial hex or the most gruesome curse, depends on two factors: the emotions of the caster and their magic power. You all familiar with the Severing Charm?", he asked, surveying the rows of students and having no choice but to call out a quivering, lightning-fast hand.
"Go on, Ms... Granger.", Crouch pronounced, visible distaste showing in his frown.
"Yes sir, we learnt it this week. Professor Flitwick said it's quite a handy spell at tailoring", my bushy-haired girlfriend answered quickly.
"Quite accurate. A point for Gryffindor.", The compliment earned a smile from Hermione. "However, what he probably did not tell you Diffindo can do this -"
At the spell, Crouch pointed at the empty desk in front and cleaved it clean in half. The class went silent at the splintered wood strewn across the floor and shuddered at its power. The disguised Death Eater is not finished, however, as he mended the table and demonstrated again.
After confirming everyone's attention is back on him, Crouch muttered the spell again and flicked his wand, this time a palpable chill gleamed in his eyes. The same gash split the desk, yet this time, wood closer to the mark started to decay until all's left of the object was a pile of dust on the floor. Crouch attempted to mend it, but the dust barely started to coalesce before disintegrating once more.
Not discouraged, the Professor turned to the astonished Griffindors:
"The same mundane spell Ms Granger mentioned, the first with power, and the second combining intent. Now, Hogwarts would not teach you these - but Dark Wizards won't let down their hand because of sportsmanship. Wiser men than you have lost limbs, eyes or even their lives for underestimating those basic spells - trust me, you can't afford to do the same even if they seem the simplest, got it?"
Just as students start nodding in contemplation, Crouch roared, causing the whole class to jump:
"Constant Vigilance! What are you dawdling for? Get your quills out and copy this down!"
The rest of the class were spent on seemingly mundane but quite terrifying modifications and applications of spells such as Reparo or Aguamenti - which, rightfully so, made me consider the Death Eater in a new light. It seems that Barty Crouch has a rather solid magical understanding and teaching skills, though it is a shame he's on Voldy's side.
No one doubted the Professor's ability when the bell rang - only after dismissing the class and giving "Three-feet essay on possible defence applications of known spells" as homework did the suppressed conversations burst forth. Most people with better theoretical knowledge - namely, Hermione and me - saw the lesson rather positively.
"Did you see the second spell, Harry?" Hermione caught up and said. "I'm sure Professor Moody was great back in his Auror days, I've been trying spell modifications for years and it never quite worked..."
I nodded contemplatively, "Do you think curses and jinxes are no different except for that intent? Come to think of it, even transfiguration could be quite nasty, used offensively..."
"Transfiguration...Wait! Wouldn't that mean the Werewolf curse is just an extremely powerful version of human transfiguration?...Magic and Dark Arts must have a common root, Harry!", she exclaimed.
While some (the two of us) were overwhelmed with this revelation, Ron was talking to other Gryffindor boys, apparently not finding most of it entertaining but for the strength display- this sentiment resonated with the rest of them. Hermione and I walked ahead to lunch and later library, where I subtly led us to learn Unforgivable curses in preparation.
Chapter 31
European Arrivals
The week went by with little incidents - maybe except for Snape staring frustratedly at my perfect potion and being unable to issue any complaint. Hermione, who made it her mission to tutor me up to her level, gave my hand a squeeze and smiled contentedly. Despite not achieving my goal of casting non-verbal spells, I'd say the knowledge gained was more extensive and thorough than any other in the year group, save for a certain brunette girlfriend of mine.
In the very next DADA lesson right before the arrivals, Crouch, after receiving homework essays, turned to address the class:
"As you all should remember, Intent and Power are crucial at casting magic. Some of you," his eyes shifted to me and Hermione, "may have speculated that Dark Magic makes use of malevolent emotions. This is quite close to the truth. Now, have you heard of the Unforgivable Curses - in other words, those most heavily punished by the law?"
The class murmured for a while, but only a few tentative hands went up - Hermione, Ron, Neville as well as mine, each for distinct reasons. The Professor looked rather amused, and gestured to Ron:
"Arthur Weasley's son?", he questioned, receiving an apprehensive nod, "Your father helped me out quite a tight corner a few weeks ago... Mind telling the rest what you already know?"
Ron hesitated, then answered, "I heard my dad talk about one... the Imperius Curse?"
"Ah... Arthur would know. Absolute control, almost undetectable - gave the Ministry quite a headache last time the Dark Lord was in power-"
I noted a fact Snape mentioned later in the books: that only Death Eaters call Voldemort "Dark Lord". The rest of the class seemed oblivious to such signs - understandable, as they have never witnessed a Death Eater meeting.
Crouch pulled out a jar with a single, enlarged mouse and muttered: "Imperio" while continuing to lecture us. The poor creature did some pretty impressive gymnastics while squeaking hysterically. Ron turned pale at the sight but remained steadfast in his seat.
"-quite a debacle, that was. Malfoy, Crabbe, Avery... cowards that all get off with being 'Imperiused'", Crouch continued, a trace of anger and ridicule found in his voice, "whether or not that is true, is up to your better judgement. Now, could someone give me another curse?"
Neville trembled and answered: "The Cruciatus, sir."
With a meaningful look to the poor guy (kind of disgusting, considering how Lestranges, Crouch's fellow Death Eaters, were known for said curses), the Professor gave a light nod and explained:
"Pain - inscrutable, unbearable pain yet leaves no mark. Exquisite control over magic, I might add, and requires the caster to have a deep desire to hurt and maim. That which none of you - I hope - would find within yourself."
As Crouch lectured, the mouse was silenced and continued to be used as a literal lab rat. Because we can't hear its noise, most of us merely saw the rat twitching in midair before collapsing upon the desk, presumably unable to overcome the pain. All of the students felt instinctively what the fate of the rodent would be...
Moving his wand from the subject, Crouch turned his gaze back and nodded at the only trembling hand - Hermione's, as she could not help sharing what she knew.
"What's the last spell, Ms Granger?"
"Avada Kedavra, sir...", she answered, glancing at me briefly.
"Yes... The most evil - and merciful - of all. Instant, almost guaranteed death. The only exception sitting right here." he turned to me inquisitively. "Attempting to cast this is not yet a crime according to the Ministry," the Professor sneered "though, fortunately, even if all of you point your wand and say the incantation, all I would get is a nosebleed."
Having finished the explanation, Crouch pointed his wand again at the poor mouse and whispered (although the class was so silent we could hear every word):
"Avada Kedavra!"
A jet of bright, green light flew towards the squirming rat and as soon as it came into contact, the creature had its last breath. My shadow sensed the vanquished soul slowly fading into the afterlife - for it exists in the limbo, the shadow realm. As everyone was transfixed on the corpse, the Professor screamed: "Constant Vigilance!" and requested essays about how to deal with Unforgivable Curses for homework.
Except for Neville, who was squirming since that display of Cruciatus, the Griffindors felt quite positive about the new teacher. And although he is plotting murder, I have to agree with a week later, one afternoon, while going downstairs for dinner, the three of us could barely squeeze our way to the Great Hall, for a huge crowd of students were gathering around a large sign at the bottom of the staircase. Ron stood on tiptoe to read the sign aloud to the two of us - although it was nothing new:
"TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT
THE DELEGATIONS FROM BEAUXBATONS AND DURMSTRANG WILL BE ARRIVING AT 6 O'CLOCK ON FRIDAY THE 30TH OF OCTOBER. LESSONS WILL END HALF AN HOUR EARLY
STUDENTS WILL RETURN THEIR BAGS AND BOOKS TO THEIR DORMITORIES AND ASSEMBLE IN FRONT OF THE CASTLE TO GREET OUR GUESTS BEFORE THE WELCOMING FEAST."
"Only a week away!" said a Hufflepuff extra, his eyes gleaming. "I wonder if Cedric knows? Think I'll go and tell him..."
'How fun... wonder what he would think when Cedric showed up at the end of "Goblet of Fire"...'
Hermione looked at me worriedly - apparently I was making a rather sinister expression.
"Cedric?" asked Ron blankly as the Hufflepuff left.
"Cedric Diggory. He's the Seeker from last year, remember?"
"That idiot, Hogwarts champion?" Ron said incredulously.
"He's not an idiot. You just don't like him because he beat Gryffindor at Quidditch," commented Hermione, glancing at me. "I've heard he's a really good student - and he's a prefect."
"You only like him because he's handsome..."
"Excuse me, I don't like people just because they're handsome!"
Ron coughed loudly, sounding oddly like "Lockhart!". I sneaked back and smiled knowingly, earning a light slap on the back from Hermione.
The notice had quite an effect on Hogwarts. There seemed to be only one topic of conversation: the Triwizard Tournament. Rumours were flying between students like a highly contagious virus: who was going to try to be the champion, what challenges for contestants, how different the students from the other schools would be.
At least on the surface, the castle was going through extra cleaning. Middle Ages-style portraits had been scrubbed and cleaned so much that their subjects now sat with cartoonishly shiny faces, looking like SR-type trading cards in mobile games. Suits of armour were also gleaming and well-oiled while the caretaker, Filch, was furiously telling off any dirty shoes in sight, sending a pair of first-years into tears.
Other professors seemed oddly tense too.
"Longbottom, kindly do not reveal that you can't even perform a simple Switching Spell in front of anyone from Durmstrang!" Professor McGonagall barked at the end of one particularly difficult lesson, during which Neville had accidentally transfigured his own ears onto a cactus. Wonder how he can hear with those...
Chapter 32
Combat Practice
As the Triwizard tournament was about to begin and Crouch would most definitely put my name in the Goblet of Fire, I had to prepare for the First Task's dragon.
For now, Zed's shadow should be hidden as a clutch, especially if Crouch sneaks in on me throughout the year and more importantly to stand a chance against good old Voldy. That leaves Jhin's Whisper - a good weapon much later on paired with the shadow, but not enough penetration for dragonskin.
Fleur's method is out because Harry has no Veela blood, Krum is a no because the Horned Tail would cause damage to the eggs, and flying a broomstick, while proven, feels slightly lacking. Magically reinforcing Zed's armour should be good enough to escape unscathed, and I should learn the Disillusionment charm just in case.
Looking further ahead, though, it might be safer to have a fully non-magical fail-safe, though not guns or anything plausibly mechanical because magic somehow screws up electricity. Out of all Runeterra's options, full-fledged chemtech, much like Renata Glasc's or Warwick's, seems practical, albeit slightly volatile.
Still alone in the Room of Requirement, I returned to mindscape to check how that would work, and the voice answered simply:
"You would experience all the pain in the process at once, and then the structure would be tailored to your body. Though, full-body augment is required to tap into the potential of this technology, as you've already guessed sir."
"Got it. Confirm enhancement of bone structure identical to the Wrath of Zaun, Warwick."
The moment those words left my figurative tongue, an inhumane pain numbed all my senses. Although the injections were minimal as I did not transform into an undead he-wolf, my spine felt like it was breaking apart and rebuilt - which it was. After 5 minutes or an hour of full paralysis, I can finally move.
My whole body feels slightly heavier but much more solid, as its inventor Singed, though inhumane, had studied anatomy flawlessly. Small tubes periodically pumped chemicals into the joints and spine, making my whole back side feel invisible. When I think of running, however, my body is automatically lifted up and my bones crack into position.
As the sense of strength cannot be accurately measured in the mind space, I re-materialized in the physical world. The strong scent of parchment has dimmed, along with the sensation of cloth on bare skin - yet if I chose to focus, they became much more pronounced, overwhelming any proper logical thought. I can imagine how Warwick turned insane: his unending hunt for survival and pleasure must've eroded any reason.
With the Marauder's Map Harry still had, I checked and saw no one outside - then exited to enter a Room with training targets. Using purely physical strength from the enhancement, I could lift twice as much as before - which is two large metal dummies - and dent its surface, though this did dislocate my wrist. However, since the pain is reduced and self-recovery enhanced by the chemicals, the injured area merely glowed and showed some bulging, disturbingly neon-green blood vessels before returning to its normal state.
While armed, my shadow's actions are accelerated for it mimics my actions, though since it's immaterial and only weapons can affect physical objects, the shadow can't show the new body strength. The same for "Whisper" - I can aim more accurately in a shorter time, but the gun's rate of fire is fixed. and projectile damage is independent of the frame.
It took me just that afternoon to get used to my body again, and until Friday, just before the start of the Tournament, to cast the optimal hit-and-run combination. In the meantime, me and Hermione also started to practise more combat-oriented spells just in case...Wednesday afternoon, Library.
Long shadows stretched on the wooden floor, with dust from old books floating lazily in the golden glow of dusk. The two of us managed to sneak away after almost getting caught chatting in Potions - as if it was such a serious thing - and successfully snubbing Ron for some so-called "quality couple time", though Hermione would never admit it.
My wand hand, which would've felt sore after all the jabs we did today if not for the skeletal structure removing any physical inconveniences, was reassuringly held by Hermione, who stood behind to correct me, her brow furrowed in concentration.
"Alright, Harry," she said, her voice slightly squeaky. "Let's try again. It's all about your intent, okay? You have to visualise the shield."
I nodded, taking a deep breath. My mind clears everything except the incantation, the motion of the wand, and the mental image. Hermione's assistance was distracting, but incredibly motivating. I raised my wand, pointing it directly in front of me.
"Protego!" I chanted, thinking of Flitwick's castle shield in the last book.
A shimmering, frustratingly translucent barrier flickered into existence, barely thicker than air. It wavered but, through the half-automated focus, held strong.
"That's brilliant, Harry!" Hermione encouraged, awkwardly moving away from my back. She raised her wand somewhat confidently. "Ready for the real deal?"
I nodded again, collapsed the shield and braced myself. Hermione's speed and power was top-notch, and thanks to the playing around the last few weeks, is now even more formidable. She flicked her wand lightly and murmured, "Stupefy."
The jet of light shot towards me, and I instinctively conjured the shield. Her stunning spell collided with my barrier, sending ripples through it before dissipating harmlessly.
I let out an exasperated breath.
"I thought you were supposed to Disarm me!"
"I knew you could do it, Harry!" she smiled and deflected, beaming wickedly. Hermione closed the distance in a few quick strides and gave me a brief, fierce hug, before realising what she just did and moving away in embarrassment.
My grin stretched wider with such a cute gesture, but refrained from commenting.
"Thanks for helping. Couldn't have done it without you."
"Don't underestimate yourself," Hermione waved her hand dismissively. "Your posture was almost perfect, Harry. You just needed a bit of pressure." She paused, pretending to be thoughtful. "Let's try it again, just to make sure it wasn't a fluke."
"Alright... Ready when you are."
Hermione nodded, her expression that of an evil scientist to her lab rat. "Expulso!" she cried, the invisible spell shooting toward me.
I barely managed to get the shield up in time. The explosion splashed against it dangerously and faded, leaving me unharmed behind.
Hermione's face split into a sinister smile. "Perfect! Now, keep practising. You'll want to cast it without thinking."
I nodded, despairing inside. 'More like I have to - if I don't want a permanent injury.'
"Do your worst, Hermione!"
She wasted no time firing all sorts of hexes and jinxes at the shield, some with really obscure names that I'm sure was from a curse book. "Hold on, Harry... We still have a few hours before dinner."
As we continued to practise (read: experiment on a helpless subject), the last light of the sun slowly faded, leaving only the warm glow of candles. Though I despaired having underestimated my girlfriend's passion for exploration (hopefully not sadism), I'm glad to have Hermione by my side for whatever the plot would throw at us.
Chapter 33
A Day in Life of the White Wizard
*Dumbledore's POV*
"...Albus, I know you'd understand. It's all for the students' sake, after all."
Yes, I know, Karkaroff. Why not spoil all the challenges to make Durmstrang and yourself look good. Even Maxime is hinting at that - it's insufferable how shallow you are. I mobilised a minimal amount of self control and smiled wisely:
"Of course. You should be assured that all safety measures are in place - I do hope Durmstrang is not doubting Hogwarts safety?"
"Oh no, no. Even if the Dark Lord turns up, we'll be safe as long as you're around, Dumbledore." he retreated, yet my intuition tells me that Karkaroff would find out about the dragons if he wants to. I've done my job, however.
Durmstrang's Headmaster continued.
"Barty probably told you already, but we'll be travelling to Hogwarts by ship. I take it the lake is open for us and our students will be at Slytherin table-"
"Severus said he'll be delighted.", I added, selectively ignoring the annoyance of the person in question at the announcement.
"-then that should be in order. We shall be there by Friday."
Karkaroff went back through the fireplace without as much as a goodbye, possibly annoyed at my refusal. I put down the half-moon spectacles and turned to the Pensieve - which have been used noticeably more in the last few days.
Ever since the beginning of school, I knew... Alastor was not himself. Severus disagreed - he argued that Alastor's hatred of Death Eaters and suspicion remained, and it was he who publicly transfigured that Malfoy boy into a ferret - a feat that only a handful of wizards would dare do. Though, considering the many enemies Lucius made from both sides, it could really be any leftover Death Eaters or extremists masquerading as Alastor.
Though it is troubling that I couldn't find any recent disappearances that would explain the impostor's identity, he seemed conscious of my scrutiny and was acting in line - at least, Alastor should be safe, for the Polyjuice potion requires "new" body tissues to work. The intruder's target - obviously Harry - would be quite safe as there's no way to escape my sight, and the man seemed to be teaching quite well.
I turned around to the previous Heads' portraits and asked:
"Phineas, a fourth participant should theoretically be possible, is it not?"
"Yes... The Goblet's contract has not changed for the last hundred years - it would only choose one most popular contestant, irrespective of their age or affiliation... Though it would take a strong enchantment to increase the number of schools..." headmaster Black suddenly stopped, regretting his slip of tongue.
"You're not selecting that Potter boy, aren't you Dumbledore? He's barely fifteen, for Merlin's sake!"
I ignored the hysteric portrait and reached out for a cabinet underneath my desk. With a simple Switching Spell, the Goblet of Fire, burning with eternal blue flames, were at hand. Even without tricking the item, I could engrave one condition using the Elder Wand: to choose Harry Potter as a champion. Of course, the one who did such a dishonourable act should be Alastor's impostor, who seemed quite dead set on making Harry join,
Chuckling at my own ingenuity, I touched up on the bit of magic and sent the Goblet back to where it belonged. Armando Dippet, my previous superior, looked stoic and calm - though I could tell his lips were twitching. Unfortunately for him, the current Headmaster's command is law, and he could not reveal this tampering to anyone.
After the act, I modified my own memory of the incident, in case future Heads might ask for my own portrait and flipped through the stack of magazines and newspapers in the corner. As usual, Rita Skeeter is having a field day on the Prophet, Transfiguration Today is republishing some of my earlier articles with minimal changes... and Xenophilius is going on about conspiracy theories. Though, the Quibbler seems to have a new addition: one surprisingly Muggle fantasy story.
The writing, just like the magazine itself, might not be for everyone, but its author's initials: "HP", is the most obvious giveaway. Come to think of it, Harry has been getting along with Xenophilius' daughter... I just need to make sure that bug lady doesn't sniff that out and ruin people's plans. After all, we can't have her gone too soon - there's much for the Prophecy's child to learn about the press and its treachery...
I summoned a kitchen elf and told it to take in Winky, Barty's expelled servant, as she's been gone for long enough and no one cares about a mere creature. A few drops of Veritaserum mixed with wine, and I'll be able to confirm my own guess of at least Bertha Jonkin's disappearance...
Chapter 34
Beauxbatons and Durmstrang
By Friday, both students and professors were absent-minded with anticipation. It has, after all, been a long time since large delegations came to stay at Hogwarts, certainly centuries since the famed Triwizard tournament was held. Despite knowing by heart exactly who the champions, I was very much on the hype train with Hermione, eager to know all the details of where Grindelwald and Nicolas Flamel came from.
During Potions, the last period, Snape seemed quite distracted and glanced at his Mark from time to time - a sign that old Voldy is communicating with Death Eaters, perhaps? Granted, although Hermione and I were not announcing our relationship, at least half of Hogwarts seems to know it already. I know for a fact Rita Skeeter would be all over us the moment I was chosen as the 4th champion.
Pushing unrelated thoughts aside, I find myself standing with the Griffindors near the entrance, waiting for both schools to arrive. The deep blue sky was cloudless, which would be perfect for a spooky Halloween if not for the tournament.
"Nearly six," said Ron, checking his watch while staring at the carriage path that leads to the station. "How d'you reckon they're coming? The train?"
"I doubt it", Hermione said, before I could rebut the guy.
"How, then? Portkey? They could Apparate - if those schools had anyone like Professor Dumbledore, side-along kids should be fine...", Ron suggested.
"Can't Apparate in Hogwarts grounds, Ron," I shook my head, "and even if they could, the further the Apparition, the more inconsistent - and both France and Germany are miles from here. I bet it's some kind of transport like a flying carriage..."
Fred and George overheard our conversation and slipped by, whispering out of Hermione's earshot:
"You up for that bet, Harry? Ten sickles for flying carriage? We'll put in five each for Portkey..."
Before long, everyone was putting their bets in - to a certain bushy-haired girl's dismay - and I saw some pretty imaginative guesses, including flying carpets (and whoever put that should learn geography) and reindeer sleigh (the Colin Brothers, as a joke).
The betting soon stopped, however, with the arrival of both schools.
"Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!", Dumbledore exclaimed, attracting everyone's attention.
A sixth year pointed over the Forest - of which, a looming silhouette glitter silver in the darkening sky. The ginormous shape drew closer, and all of us saw winged horses the size of African elephants pulling a powder-blue carriage. The twins looked at me in envy but honestly coughed up the sickles, earning myself a reprimanding gaze from Hermione.
After the carriage slightly crash-landed, making several students leap in surprise, a boy in blue jumped down, unfurling luxurious golden steps - a classic and showy move, but undoubtedly effective, earning a few wows from Hogwarts students. He was followed by the tallest woman I've seen, who must be Madame Maxime, as she stepped to greet Dumbledore.
Dumbledore began to clap. prompting students to follow his lead. The woman approached with a gracious smile, extending a glittering hand towards the Headmaster, which he barely bent to kiss.
"My dear Madame Maxime," he said, "Welcome to Hogwarts."
"Dumbly-dorr," replied Madame Maxime in a deep voice. "I 'ope I find you well?"
"In excellent form, I thank you."
"My pupils," said Madame Maxime as she waved carelessly behind her.
Now, unlike Ron, who was craning his neck for a better view, or Hermione, who didn't seem to understand the clear apprehension upon the Beauxbatons' faces, I was instead scanning the crowd for a certain part-Veela. I didn't have to look for too long, however, as I soon glimpsed a girl with silvery hair that seemed to glow with magic.
The person in question somehow noticed the stare and met my gaze ever so briefly - and she was, without a doubt, the most alluring and graceful woman I've ever seen. Though, it seemed I was not so brief, staring into the distance as she's gone, that Hermione gave me a painful squeeze and one menacing we'll-talk-about-this-later look.
This distraction cut me off from the conversation the two Heads are having - I heard some mention of 'only single-malt whisky' - and right after, a loud and eerie rumbling was coming from the lake. Water swirl at the centre of the lake, waves crashing onto the banks, and what seemed to be a long, black pole began to rise out of the whirlpool.
"That's Durmstrang!" I said to Hermione.
Slowly, the ship rose, gleaming black in the moonlight as though it just came out of a pirate's bottle. It even had a rather bare-bone, haunted look - a perfect fit for an army of half-marine, half-human abominations led by Davy Jones. Instead of him, however, what came out of the ship was a tall, thin man with tousled dark hair.
"Dumbledore!", the man called out heartily, "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"
"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff."
The ex-Death Eater shook Dumbledore's hand with both of his own.
"Dear old Hogwarts," he said with a creepy smile, "How good to be here, how good... Viktor, come along, into the warmth... you don't mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold..."
He beckoned towards the Quidditch star, startling almost everyone else except myself, who was expecting the fact, and Hermione, who never had much interest in the sport. Speaking of the guy, he seemed annoyed - which may or may not be his default expression - and quite stuffy, what with the many layers Karkaroff must've insisted on.
With both school's settled in the Hall, all students quickly returned to their seats for the feast. A brief struggle ensued where Griffindors and Slytherins competed for Krum's position - the latter winning, obviously - and we found ourselves staring at the newly part-English, part-French and part-German/Russian selections.
As their Headmistress walked past, the Beauxbatons along the Ravenclaw table stood up, only returning to their seats once Madame Maxime found hers next to Dumbledore. They seemed quite content staring rapturously at the Hogwarts Headmaster, some looking glum at the prospect of staying here for the whole year.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and - most particularly - guests. I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable"
"The Tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast. I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"
And with that announcement, he sat down to engage in conversation with Karkaroff.
Chapter 35
The Four Champions
After dinner, Dumbledore merely announced the Goblet, the Age Line and left, not before glancing at the Weasley twins who looked outraged that they cannot put their names. Barty Crouch Jr. also set for his chambers, no doubt re-confirming with Voldy about their plan. Discussions ensued about who would be the Hogwarts champion, at which me and Hermione left for the Gryffindor Common Room.
"Harry," she started as soon as we found our seats, "you're not putting your name in the Goblet, are you?"
"Of course I won't, Hermione - but that's not to say others can't."
"Why would someone want to make you join, unless..." she looked at me, horrified, "the Tournament was shut down for mortality rate, and champions can't leave lest they lose magic!"
I nodded in reply.
"Can we do anything about it though? I thought underage wizards aren't allowed to participate?"
"No... The Goblet itself doesn't care if you're underage or even if you're the one personally entering - the contract will be formed regardless. That's why Dumbledore warned older students to not help younger ones put their names in. Getting a signature is easy enough, with all the marked homework lying around."
"I suppose there's the last enchantment - the fact that the Goblet only recognizes three? No offence but I'm sure there are older students who would be 'more qualified'?" Hermione glanced at me nervously, relieved that I'm unperturbed.
"Ideally, yes - but remember, if Voldemort is entering me, he'll figure out a bypass. Who's to say he won't, hypothetically, kidnap and torture a Ministry employee to find out? I know from Sirius that he did so to kill my parents..."
Hermione looked scared for a moment, but steeled herself and wrapped me in a tight hug, presumably not wanting to make me panic also. Her body was shaking in worry, both about Voldemort running free and the potentially fatal tasks.
I returned the gesture, though my thoughts went to the final confrontation with one of the strongest Dark Wizards of all time and all the ways it can go wrong. Harry got away as Voldemort deemed him unworthy of a full duel - but if I show myself with tricks rivalling Dumbledore, his attitude would be quite different.
We stayed that way for a while, not wanting to let go first as both slowly fell into an exhausted slumber. Of course, the teasing that followed when the entire house found us snuggling overnight was legendary, but that would be a story for another following day passed in a blur. Hermione convinced me to send a letter to Sirius asking for help about possibly entering a deadly tournament, with a second letter sent out of her sight asking for Padfoot's relationship advice and letting him know all the "juicy" details before that's shown in a Rita Skeeter article.
By dinner of Hallowe'en, everyone was talking about who entered and who tried but got memorable mishaps (read: Fred, George and Lee's beard). Soon after the plates were cleared, Dumbledore strode to the centre of the podium and started reading out the names.
"Durmstrang champion -" a tongue of flame leapt from the cup, sending a strip to his hand "Viktor Krum!"
The Bulgarian Seeker stood up amidst applause and headed towards the end of the hall, presumably where Crouch Sr. and Bagman were waiting.
"Beauxbatons champion -" another strip landed "Fleur Delacour!"
This time, about half of the students looked miffed, one crying for not being chosen, and the others started to cheer. Most of the latter being male, as I and Hermione noticed. My girlfriend gave me a suspicious look but spared a pinch when she saw I only politely clapped and did not linger too long on the half-Veela.
"Hogwarts champion -" the hall now deafeningly silent, as it consists mostly of Hogwarts students "Cedric Diggory!"
As the Hufflepuff rose to his feet, a message from my subconscious notified me that "The timeline is correcting itself". And right on cue, the fourth piece of parchment flew from the Goblet, landing on the Headmaster's outstretched hand.
Students began to notice something's wrong when the dismissal did not come. The Hall was alive once more, bustling with speculation about what the issue might be - Hermione perhaps having a premonition, squeezing my hand slightly too tight. And the dreaded moment came.
"The fourth champion..."
there was silence
"Harry Potter!"
and all hell broke loose. Draco looked like he was punched, Barty staring at me inquiringly, Dumbledore called me to leave my seat, professors looking dumbstruck and all except Griffindors staring at me as if I was a big fat cheater - being the Boy-Who-Has-Plot-Armor, guilty as charged.
"Well... through the door, Harry," said Dumbledore. He was giving me the I'm-so-disappointed look that would've discouraged the original Harry, which I simply shrugged to Snape's outrage.
Stepping over a dozen trips with my shadow forewarning, I stepped into the chamber along with the three champions. They were grouped around a fire, as per the theme, and looked about as impressive as your ghost-story teller in a campsite. Which is to say, not a lot.
Bagman and Crouch then arrived, the former congratulating me on being a champion and the latter dryly explaining to everyone present how my participation would be mandatory and there's nothing Karkaroff, Madame Maxime or Snape could do about it.
Barty then entered as things got heated, growling:
"Maybe someone's hoping Potter is going to die for it." - quite accurate, as the culprit himself states.
As the ruckus died down (Dumbledore unfortunately did not shake me screaming "Harry did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire?!"), Crouch announced the first task to be on 24th November and champions are not to ask or accept help from teachers. While Dumbles seems quite content with said rule, Karkaroff and Maxime would both be cheating as much as humanly (or half-giantly) possible, reminding me that said rule was definitely not binding.
"Harry, Cedric, I suggest you go up to bed," said Dumbledore, smiling at both of us. "I am sure Gryffindor and Hufflepuff are waiting to celebrate with you, and it would be a shame to deprive them of this excellent excuse to make a great deal of mess and noise."
I successfully stopped myself from rolling my eyes, glanced at Cedric, who nodded, and we left for our Common Rooms.
Chapter 36
Of Guns and Dragons
The next weeks passed by in a blur as Ron lashed out at Hermione and myself, to nobody's surprise. As Hogwarts erupted in 'Potter Stinks' badges, I chose to let it die down before letting Cedric know his first task would be dragons. He was not thrilled to say the least, his face blanching before nervously asking if I was serious. My unamused look left him bumbling thanks and departing.
On another note, after Hagrid finally showed me the fire-breathing and flying lizards, I asked Hermione for assistance in taking them down, and one letter to Sirius for good measure, though the latter would not be of any practical help. My girlfriend and I planned around fourth-year spells before she walked in on me doing target practice in the Room of Requirement.
As anyone could imagine in such a situation, Hermione was less than amused that I was hiding a potentially lethal magical weapon from her, but made me promise to tell her so that she'd keep the secret.
"...So you somehow have permanent performance-enhancing drugs in your blood, a magical gun that disfigures flesh, access to a different dimension and you never thought to fill me, your girlfriend in?"
She looked as if I cheated on her with another girl, and knowing Hermione, not showing her all potential research subjects might come quite close.
"You forgot the magical armour, but yes..."
By now she seemed positively livid and was beginning to reach for her wand when I finally surrendered. The next hours consisted of me displaying various equipment from the subspace and Hermione flipping over every dimension-related book to find how I managed to do it. She only regretfully paused when I reminded her of our original purpose, which is to help me survive the dragon.
Perhaps out of someone's displeasure at being kept in the dark, the Room began to form a towering stone dragon. Granted, it was only about one-fourth the size of the Hungarian Horntail, but seemed much bigger in an enclosed space. And the stone dragon started to move towards me menacingly.
When I looked back at Hermione, she had now conjured a comfortable box for herself to spectate myself and the dragon. Well, the stone should be inconvenient, but with some kiting not impossible. I slipped onto full Shadow Armor and sunk into my own shadow, right in time to avoid the dragon's outstretched claw.
The stone dragon kept turning around but not finding me, as I was shifting from one room corner to the next out of its line of sight. It finally did, though, when I stood still to load Whisper. A flame torrent came in my direction, and I escaped behind the dragon's shadow.
'One.'
I took a breath and pulled the trigger. The gun lived up to its namesake as an immaterial voice sounded in my mind. Its magic-infused bullet struck the head of the dragon, leaving a small dent and fracturing the surrounding stone. The stone creature roared, flapping its wings and taking to the ceiling, preparing to dive towards my direction.
- The Hungarian Horntail shrieked in annoyance but seemed unfazed by the mark, refocusing on myself dodging out of the way. Its outstretched claws swiped in my direction but sailed barely overhead, leaving a gust of wind. Bagman was shouting something about my attack not doing enough, and Hermione looked slightly worried. -
'Two.'
I rolled forward right under the swooping dragon, feeling a brief but crushing weight on my shoulders as my armour dispersed most of the impact. A loud crashing followed, chunks of the wall breaking from the collision, lodging the dragon in it for a short time. The second shot came out, disappearing mid-air before deepening the dent from the first.
- Taking advantage of its imbalance, I leapt a short distance to the side, aided inconspicuously by my shadow while aiming Whisper at the unsuspecting reptile. The scales on its forehead started to fall off at this next bullet, upping the dragon's pain from "light sting" to "small scar". It gave up physical attacks and its gaping mouth began to glow ominously. -
'Three.'
At frightening speed compared to before, the stone creature swiped the ground with its tail, which I barely dodged by jumping upwards, while pouncing with its hindlegs towards my current spot. I was standing point-blank with the dragon while Whisper was about to fire. This shot clearly shattered its forehead, but this merely knocked the enormous weight from crushing me.
- Wand in hand, I conjured the thickest fireproof wall possible and dug a small hole for myself as if I was a trench soldier staring down a flamethrower, which is not that inaccurate. The blazing heat almost instantly melted the wall and hungrily lapped at my singed hair, which was doused in water before entering the arena. Digging even deeper, I blasted a short path directly towards the dragon from underground, lining up the third bullet and causing some serious bleeding from the Horntail. -
'Four.'
Whisper 'shouted' the last shot at the still stumbling Room construct before piercing it through. To be honest, the blast felt like a tactical missile rather than a normal rifle, and in truly Virtuoso fashion, left one artistic flower made of the debris. The look on Hermione's face was truly priceless.
- If the organisers figured out anything was amiss, they did not respond in time. My magic rushed towards the gun, the runes on its side glowing slightly in the undergrowth. The impact was worth all the exhaustion it caused, however, as the Horntail finally slumped forward, its wound bleeding out grotesquely yet the exposed flesh crafted into a masterpiece to anyone who wouldn't throw up at first sight. The crowd went silent, for once, after the body hit the ground with a rumble. -
"Harry, what is that weapon?" my girlfriend trotted towards me in a mix of curiosity and awe. That display removed most of the annoyance, probably.
"This? It's called 'Whisper', and I daresay it makes a damn good show."
- And maybe, just maybe, a bit excessively. Or so I thought as the dragon trainers, teachers and reporters round in on myself, eager to waste my time on interviews. For what it's worth, Dumbles and Crouch Jr looked as if they just lost their favourite toy. -
Chapter 37
White Lies
The week after the dragon's defeat was met with mixed reactions from the three schools. Karkaroff was uncharacteristically biassed towards my performance - that is to say, giving me the same as Krum's - while making sure he was at least amiable in my presence. Durmstrang students were now acknowledging me with a nod whenever one came in contact, otherwise there was no change. All in all, net positive, even if it was due to Whisper's performance.
No, the real annoyance came from the flip-flopping public of Hogwarts. Right after the first task, Ron Weasley gave me a visit and tried to gloss over all the one-sided jealousy he had shown over weeks and be friends with the Boy-Who-Lived again. I refused and walked out with Hermione, ignoring the 'slimy git's thrown my way.
Come to think of it, that particular insult must've originated from Old England's fishery since most native animals aren't quite 'slimy'. This thought earnt a chuckle from Hermione when I shared it with her, though she was still paying quite close attention. Well, the original Harry would've been devastated if he lost his first friend, so really cannot blame her.
As a consequence of this, however, I had little chance to choose and more importantly train with a new summon, which would be the basic Ryze runes and therefore potentially dangerous. Though, I'm reasonably sure the blue mage hadn't carved any of the World Runes onto his body and their powers wouldn't be parasitic, so the change should not be too noticeable. Besides, no need to fuel more of Dumbledore's suspicion and control complex…
"Mr. Potter! A word, if you may."
Speak of the devil. He ignored my silence and guided me (one hand clasped tightly over my shoulder, obviously) towards the Headmaster Office. When I was barely seated, the old man spoke again.
"Harry m'boy! How did you find Hogwarts these last few months? Any incidents I need to know about?"
He eyed me rather thoroughly - hopefully without any more to that - but withdrew when he could not find what he was looking for. I would've bet ten galleons on 'Whisper', but there aren't any to do so.
My silence amused the man for a little while. As that continued, even the great Albus Dumbledore began to look annoyed. I retreated back to my mind to simulate some more painful deaths for Voldy and his pals, which may or may not include a Potions professor with an obsession with Harry's deceased mother and the schemer opposite myself. Fortunately for the both of us, he did not attempt to breach my mind, not that I gave him the chance to do so discreetly. That broken nose was quite amusing, considering the few hours I spent inspecting it.
The Headmaster was shaking slightly when I pulled out *gasp* a book! In front of the Greatest Warlock, no less. And rage did not make one more careful, for despite potential criminal charges and massive risk of PR disaster, Dumbledore lifted his wand and whispered 'Legimens' at my direction. I took a tiny mortal-danger chance and slipped my soul out via the shadow, leaving only the shell with Harry's memories inside.
While he stared creepily into the scrawny Mr. Potter, my shadow yanked the wand out of his hand and snapped it before swallowing up that precious self-regenerating batch of precious ingredients in the form of Fawkes. All in that fraction of a moment, just before the Headmaster could realise that two of his most powerful cards, both irreplaceable, were gone.
"Are you feeling alright, sir? Shall I go get Madame Pomphrey?"
I asked in the most Harry-like voice possible. If Dumbledore's intelligence was expected, he would already be constructing the perfect explanation for that disaster, one coincidentally involved not telling his Mind-read victim any information. He shook his head more calmly than I expected and said in that grandfatherly tone.
"Of course not, Harry. Just a small accident, happens to everyone at that age." he chuckled, sounding good-natured to any who missed that ominous twinkle. "Though, do send for Minerva and Severus for me, alright? Off you go then!"
The last syllable was more agitated and I barely held my grin.
"I'll be going then. Thank you, Professor."
Barely had I left the office that muffled chaos could be heard from within. Dumbledore must be throwing a tantrum inside, though much relief for me not fighting the geezer head-on. If even without the wand he's this powerful, I likely won't take him down easily when he possesses it. Especially not if the opponent could be a 'Riddle 2.0' - he's too high and mighty to hand over the Death Stick to a coming Dark Lord, after all.
I pulled myself out of another tirade just as my shadow announced our location: Snape's personal quarters. I knocked loudly and shouted "Master Dumbledore summons Severus Snape to his office!" in the closest house-elf imitation before running off. I gave professor McGonagall the normal version, not that she looked more thrilled, before leaving for my own thing.
I was on my way back to the office to spy on their meeting before Luna popped out of a nearby broom closet and barrelled towards me. She did not look surprised as I 'Arresto Momentum'ed her, rather began with a bright "Hello, Harry."
As uninspired as my reply, I reserve my right to return a "Hello Luna". It's really not everyday you can surprise a cross-dimensional entity.
The girl stared unblinkingly before pointing at the book I had in hand. I should point out that the volume in question was not present in my inventory nor near my persons for as long as I remembered. It read: '101 Creative Curses' and written underneath in fine print, 'for Enemies'.
"Oh, I think you'd find that helpful. Father wouldn't miss that book, it's from our library."
I had an ominous hunch before she even continued with her blank smile.
"Be safe, alright?"
I knew better to ask if she meant the book or myself attempting those curses.
Luna nodded imperceptibly and skipped away.