Yo! Thank you to all readers so far!
Pictures of Harry, Fred, and George at the Yule Ball together were in the papers for a good week, always on the front page, and followed by articles containing quotes from many scandalized old men and women who couldn't believe the boys' audacity in doing something so improper.
In response, Rita Skeeter asked Harry for a few words, wanting to hear why he had chosen the Weasley twins as his dates. Harry answered her many unnecessary and probing questions in Parseltongue so, even with her Quick Quotes Quill, Rita got a whole lot of nothing from him. Just like Harry wanted.
But now that the Yule Ball was mercifully over with, Harry had other things to worry about. While he still had some time, the second task was coming up, and since that stupid golden egg supposedly held some kind of clue about that next task, well, he probably had to try to solve it.
He didn't give a damn about getting top scores or anything like that, but he had to compete, and he didn't particularly want to die during this daft spectacle. So yeah, he'd have to try a little bit, at least. Enough not to get himself killed, at any rate. And he had a feeling that being a Parselmouth wasn't going to be as useful this time around.
The problem was that he had no idea what sort of clue the egg was supposed to hold. All it did was scream at him when he opened it, and he couldn't hear anything interesting under all the noise. Ugh, this whole thing was so stupid. Researching in the library was an option, of course, but he had no idea where to start or what to look for...
"If you don't tell me what you're hiding, I'm pitching you in the damn fire," Harry muttered, glaring at the large golden egg that sat on the ground innocently.
"You should try opening it underwater."
Blinking, and a little caught off guard since he'd thought he was alone (considering he was sitting in the courtyard despite how dark and cold and snowy it was), Harry looked up.
A girl was standing nearby, her dirty blonde hair flying around her as she shielded her pretty blue eyes from the blowing snow. Harry didn't recognize her, but he could see a Ravenclaw tie peeking out from under the collar of her cloak.
"Underwater?" he said instead. He didn't even think of speaking in Parseltongue to her as he would have to pretty much anyone else. He wasn't sure why, but there was something about her that felt really...peaceful.
"Yes. Underwater. Snakes aren't the only creatures with a language." She smiled gently. "Good luck, Harry Potter." And then she walked away, leaving Harry alone outside once more.
Harry watched her go, a little bemused, but decided her words were worth considering. She was right, after all. All creatures had their own language. Maybe this weird screaming was one too, incomprehensible to him, but perfectly normal for something else.
But she'd specified underwater. So did that mean it was some underwater creature doing all this screaming? What creatures lived in the water? He'd look that up later, he decided. Right now he had a tip to check out.
Where could he find a bathtub? The bathrooms in the dorms only had showers, the Quidditch locker rooms too. The lake was an option, but seeing as it was winter and they were up in the north, the water was as cold as tits and he didn't particularly feel like freezing his poor bollocks off because of the damned egg…
"A bathtub?"
Harry nodded. He and Hermione were sitting at a secluded table in the corner of the library, talking in low whispers so they wouldn't be heard by Madam Pince, the always grumpy librarian. Harry had just finished telling Hermione about what that Ravenclaw girl had said to him, and what he'd thought of himself after that.
Hermione frowned. "If the girls had a bathtub I'd try to sneak you in, or at least take the egg and check the clue myself, but we don't have one either." She sighed rather mournfully. "I really wish Hogwarts had more tubs. Don't you miss taking baths?"
"I've never had a bath," said Harry casually, though it was more of a statement. The Dursleys hardly let him take showers that lasted more than five minutes-an actual bath was completely out of the question.
Hermione winced, no doubt realizing that. "Well, in any case, I think only the professors have actual bathtubs. The Prefects do too-there's a separate bathroom for them with a massive bath, from what I've heard."
Harry braced his elbows on the table. "It'd probably be cheating to get a professor to check the clue for me, and I highly doubt any of them would be willing to let me into their bathroom, which sounds really creepy, now that I'm saying it out loud." He paused thinking, then said, "Is the Prefect's bath password protected?"
"Yeah, or that's what Percy told me ages ago, at least."
"I haven't been paying any attention to this, but who are the Prefects this year?"
Hermione hesitated. "No one who, er, likes you very much right now. Cedric Diggory is one though."
Harry's face scrunched up. "Yeah, I'm not asking Diggory for help."
"Didn't think you would," said Hermione conversationally. She looked around thoughtfully, one of her fingers tapping on the table. "Maybe Fred and George know how to get in," she said abruptly. "They know all sorts of odd passageways and passwords, don't they?"
Harry nodded slowly. "True. I guess I could ask them. I could check the map too; it did give me the password for that one passa-"
A sudden cough from behind one of the nearby shelves interrupted Harry mid-sentence, and hidden in the fake cough was a single word that both Harry and Hermione were just barely able to make out: Pinefresh.
The cough subsided, a book was taken off the shelf, and a clunking told them that the person was walking away from them, leaving them be. They exchanged a confused glance. They recognized the person by the sounds alone, even if they hadn't seen them, but...
"Why would Professor Moody give you the password for the baths?" asked Hermione curiously.
"Ah." Realizing he hadn't told Hermione what he'd discovered, Harry dragged a hand through his hair, feeling a little agitated. "Probably because he isn't actually Moody?" And when he only got a look of confusion in response, he sighed and explained...
Hermione's frown only deepened the more she heard, and Harry could tell by the look in her eyes that she was already eager to start researching. He couldn't blame her for that. "Not Alastor Moody and not the Bartemius Crouch that you know... Interesting. I wonder what he meant by that?"
Harry shrugged. "No idea. Any chance you can look into it?"
"Of course!" Hermione exclaimed, seeming a little affronted he'd even considered otherwise. "And as an aside-what were you thinking!? Do you know how dangerous that was!? He could have killed you!"
Harry grinned, already having expected the reaction, and did his best to pacify his dear friend.
That's it for now. Looking forward to reviews! Laterz!