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Unknown Prophecy

Chapter 18

Harry smirked as he looked across the Common Room and saw Hermione sitting there reading the new book that she had "borrowed from the library". She was completely engrossed in it and was tuning out everyone and everything going on around her. Harry had to give it up to Dumbledore. He didn't beat around the bush. The man acted quickly, and using Hermione's love for knowledge and her desire for power was a stroke of genius.

Just like before, Hermione was being completely ignored by the rest of the Gryffindors. However, her isolation wasn't nearly as bad as the last time. Just being in his orbit made her somewhat well-known in school. Unfortunately for her, the rule "out of sight, out of mind" applied to her, and now that she wasn't near him, no one cared one lick about her. At the moment, it didn't appear that she cared in the least. Her eyes were quickly darting from left to right as she absorbed the knowledge written on the pages.

"You've really done stuff with girls?" Angelina quietly asked as she sat next to him. She was so close that the side of her thigh was touching his. Harry didn't mind though. She sounded somewhat shocked by that fact. Harry leaned in and whispered in her ear.

"Lots of stuff," he teased her. Angelina's brown eyes were wide with surprise.

"Really?" she asked again, unconvinced. "I'm almost three years older than you, and I've barely done anything," she truthfully told him.

The light in the Common Room was low. The sun had already set, and several of the lanterns had already been extinguished. The majority of the light was coming from the large fireplace that was crackling merrily, sending light and heat into the room. Hermione had staked out a nice spot in a comfy chair close to the fire to provide herself with plenty of light for reading. Harry, on the other hand, was sitting on a couch toward the back of the room where the shadows were thick and where wandering hands could go unnoticed. This was where couples usually sat.

"You know, Angie … We can change that," he teased again, letting his fingertips softly graze the skin of her knee. Angelina let out a shuddered breath as his fingers climbed slightly higher. The smooth skin of her thigh was very soft, and Harry could feel the erection springing up in his trousers. He moved his hand around to the back of her knee and tickled her skin. Angelina squirmed from his touch.

"Harry …" she said in a low, breathy tone. "Someone will see," she told him in a slight panic. She was looking around, making sure that their activities weren't being spied upon. She didn't notice her friends Alicia and Katie throwing her annoyed looks from afar.

"You're right," Harry said, giving her thigh one last squeeze. "We'll wait until we can be alone."

Angelina's dusky skin couldn't hide the blush that formed on her cheeks. She opened her mouth but quickly closed it. There was nothing that she could say. She couldn't believe that Harry Potter was so confident when it came to women. She had read all about his tales and had even listened to all the juicy gossip about him supposedly traveling the world with beautiful girls. Most of his heroics could be corroborated. However, she did have her doubts about him and the girls. Now she wasn't so sure. Angelina squeezed her thighs and rubbed them together. 'Harry Potter wants to take me to bed!' Angelina thought frantically. Of course, she was going to let him. She would be ridiculed by every girl in the world if she didn't take this golden opportunity. She would let him make the first move since she didn't have much experience with this kind of thing. All she did was blush and nod like an idiot while Harry stared her in the eyes.

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"Alright class, open your books to page twenty-four," McGonagall called out. This was his second Transfiguration class of the school year, and Harry had already established himself as the star pupil. Hermione, of course, wasn't pleased, but she tried her best to hide her rage. Harry was hiding his own rage. He wanted nothing better than to toss a cutter right at the old bat's neck. Thankfully, Harry was much better at hiding his emotions than Hermione was. Harry smiled and yes, ma'amed and no, ma'amed the old broad.

"Last lesson you attempted to Transfigure a matchstick into a needle," she said, pacing back and forth across the front of the class. "Only Mr. Potter was able to accomplish this," she said, hiding her Gryffindor pride. The truth was that Harry had done much more than accomplish that menial task. He put on a display that had the entire school talking. Harry was here to prove that he was to be taken seriously. He wasn't going to be pushed around and told what to do. Beside him, Hermione gritted her teeth at the reminder.

'For now,' she thought savagely. 'Soon, I'll be even more powerful than Harry will ever be,' she promised herself. The fact that she was receiving books from Dumbledore was going straight to her head.

"This lesson is to be a continuation. I very much hope that the rest of you will accomplish the task by the end of the period. Read the book if you need a reminder. Raise your hand if you need help. Begin!" she called out. The room was immediately filled with wand-waving and terribly pronounced incantations. McGonagall walked up to Harry and placed a bar of iron on the desk in front of him.

"Transfiguring iron into wood is even more difficult than wood into iron," she explained. "Let's see what you got," she challenged him. Harry whipped out his wand and gave it a flick.

The block of iron first changed into wood before completely reforming into a beautifully crafted, antique carousel, or rather a merry-go-round as they call it in the States. It was incredibly detailed and contained several dozen uniquely-styled horses. It was even colored, which made McGonagall gasp. Before she could praise him, the carousel began rotating, the horses moving up and down as they circled. It even played a merry tune. Everyone in the class was now looking at him. Harry flicked his wand again, and the horses broke free of the carousel. They lined up, and soon after, a chariot race was happening along the edge of his desk. The little wooden man even grabbed Hermione's matchstick as it passed. Her matchstick turned into a whip, which he used to snap at the horses to make them go faster. Hermione turned and glared at him. Harry turned and smirked at her.

"Excellent, Mr. Potter! Simply brilliant! Twenty points to Gryffindor," she said. "Continue practicing while I help the rest of the class," she said, walking off. "Oh … and please give Ms. Granger back her matchstick."

As the chariot passed by Hermione, the little wooden chariot driver threw the whip at her. It changed back into a matchstick and hit her in the forehead. She yelped and flinched. Harry snorted in amusement.

"Harry …" she said threateningly.

"Relax, Hermione. I'm just having a bit of fun with you," he confessed. "I was thinking … Maybe you'd like some private study lessons with me. There are quite a few things that I could teach you about Transfiguration."

Hermione froze. This was what she had been waiting for. This was the perfect opportunity to start working her magic to get him to teach her how to remove the Trace before summer break. Hermione put a cute, little smile on her face. "I'd love to, Harry," she told him kindly.

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Harry sat down during lunch. His stomach was growling, and he was very hungry. All of the rituals and modifications to his body really burned up the calories. As such, he needed to eat plenty at every meal. As soon as he sat down, Hermione filled the spot on his right. No sooner than she did, Harry heard something on his left.

"Out of the way! Move it!" he heard Ron's familiar voice. He looked to the side just as the young redhead plonked down on the seat next to him. "How's it going, mate?" Ron asked delightedly.

For the last couple of days, he had taken to eating his meals with Harry instead of with his fellow Hufflepuffs. Harry took a wild guess that the other Hufflepuffs didn't mind in the least. Harry didn't really mind either. He wanted to keep his enemies close, and the Weasley family was definitely his enemy. Having Ron as his semi-friend would keep the invitations to the Burrow coming. Harry didn't plan on spending a lot of time at the old house, but having access to it could come in handy down the road. There was also the fact that Harry didn't want to rock the boat too much, or Dumbledore might get suspicious of his behavior. As much as Harry didn't want to admit it, Dumbledore was a fearsome foe. His best chance to end the old man was to strike fast, hard, and in complete surprise … just as they had done to him. Just thinking about it made Harry's blood boil, and he fought the urge to stab Ron's hand which was reaching for a chicken leg with his fork. Harry let go of his fork which clattered to the table. He took a deep breath to calm himself. Ignoring the disgusting display of Ron chowing down on his chicken, Harry turned to the Staff Table.

Snape was sitting there eating his corn on the cob vertically instead of horizontally. Harry shook his head. He might have felt bad if it had happened to anyone other than Snape. Harry actually felt quite lucky that the greasy bastard was seemingly off of his back this time around. For some strange reason, Snape actually thought that the blonde ferret was Harry Potter. He found the whole ordeal very funny. Malfoy had been complaining to anyone that would listen about the unfairness of it all. Harry hadn't thought about it very much, but now that he had, he realized that the Slytherins were much more subdued than they were the first time. It wasn't shocking since they no longer had Snape to constantly cover up their deplorable behavior. Unfortunately for them, Snape was in his own world. Harry shook his head again when he saw the hook-nosed bastard pouring brown gravy over his treacle tart. 'He should be horsewhipped for that alone,' Harry thought as he piled his plate with loads of delicious food.

As he did, he glanced at the Slytherin table. Flynt was sitting there looking like a troll. Malfoy was puffing his chest up while talking to Pansy Parkinson. Harry didn't know it, but he was telling the girl tales of his own adventures before coming to school. Parkinson was dumb enough to believe him. Daphne, on the other hand, wasn't so stupid.

Harry spotted the beautiful, dark-haired girl. He saw Daphne look at him and then blush deeply before looking away. He made a mental note of that. He wouldn't begrudge himself another faithful follower if he could somehow manage it. He turned back to his plate and began eating.

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Hermione was actually excited when Harry led her to a mostly-empty classroom. There was a teacher's desk at the front and a few scattered chairs that were covered in dust. As Hermione entered, she wrinkled her nose cutely and fought off a sneeze. The entire classroom was dusty and smelled quite stale if she was being honest. Harry walked in and waved his wand. Every fleck of dust suddenly vanished. He waved his wand again, and the room suddenly lightly smelled of lavender. Hermione turned to him.

"How did you do that?" she asked, desperately wanting to know.

"The same way I do most of my magic. I clearly picture what I want in my mind, then use my willpower to make it happen," he told her. "It sounds easier than it actually is, but that's the jist of it."

Hermione frowned. "That's lame," she said. "There has to be more to it than that."

Harry shrugged. "That's how it is once you have enough experience. Normal first-years have no hope of doing it like that. You'll have to use incantations first, then learn how to cast silently. Once you have that down, then you can try the way I do it."

"How did you learn how to do it like that?" she asked him as her eyes narrowed. "You're a first-year after all." Hermione saw him smile cheekily at her.

"I knew you'd ask that," he said. "Unfortunately, I can't tell you unless you sign a magical contract that states that you won't tell anyone else."

Hermione flinched. Did he somehow already know that she was in cahoots with Dumbledore?

"It's not that I don't trust you," she heard him say which calmed her down. "But the information is just that important to keep safe."

Hermione didn't give two shits about Dumbledore. She would happily keep the information from the old bastard if it meant that she gained power. "What kind of contract?" Hermione asked him, having never heard of a magical contract before.

"I brought one just in case," Harry said, pulling one out of his bag. He set it on the desk. Hermione read it over, and suddenly her eyes widened. Her head jerked his way.

"Indentured servitude for life!" she cried out in shock. Harry nodded.

"Magical contracts can often be severe. If you break a magically binding contract, your magic will act against you and force you to comply with the letter of the contract."

"... but for life …" she said, still clearly in shock. Harry nodded.

"You can't tell anyone about the contract either. I also wouldn't recommend trying to give someone hints so that they can figure it out on their own. That will also break the contract. You must be sure before you sign," Harry told her seriously.

Hermione thought about it for a moment. The contract was severe, to say the least. That being said, she could keep a secret. She had many terrible secrets about herself that would ruin her life if they ever came to light.

"Is the secret that you're keeping something that can be replicated?" she asked him. Harry smiled knowingly and nodded. "And you will help me accomplish it myself?" she asked again. Again, Harry nodded.

"We might have to wait until Christmas break though," he warned. "It's not something that can be done overnight."

Hermione walked over to a chair and sat down. She thought about it for a minute or so. Tapping her chin while thinking, she stood up and came to a decision. "I'll sign."

She saw Harry pull out a red quill as she walked up. "This is a Blood Quill. Whatever you write will be carved into the back of your hand, and your blood will be used as ink. The wound will heal itself almost instantly. It's disturbing but necessary," he assured her.

Harry thought that she might raise a fuss about the quill. Of course, he forgot that his precious, little Hermione Granger was a budding serial killer. The look on her face was one of intrigue. She took the quill from him and rolled it between her fingers. She brushed the feathery part across her palm, savoring the tickling sensation. Hermione didn't want to say anything about her curiosity concerning the quill, but she made a mental note to buy one if possible. She was already imagining the fun that she could have with that evil, little device. "I understand," she said, pretending to be meek and nervous. In truth, she was curious to try it on herself.

Harry took the quill back and scribbled his own name on the contract. Hermione watched in fascination as his name was written in blood and carved into the back of his hand. Just as he said, the wound disappeared right before her eyes. Hermione quivered in excitement as she was handed the quill. Placing the tip on the parchment, she wrote out her name, Hermione Jean Granger, and winced as it was sliced into the back of her hand. Almost instantly, the name disappeared leaving a stretch of pink, blotchy skin. She rubbed the back of her hand, trying to ease the stinging sensation that was still present. "That's fascinating," she said with wide eyes, staring down at her name.

"Indeed it is," Harry teased, ticking her neck with the feather. Hermione gasped and shuddered slightly.

"Okay, I signed. Now, spill," she ordered.

"While I know a lot of spells and such, I'm able to use those spells so well because I widened my magical pathways through a ritual that I perfected," he confessed. Hermione looked confused.

"Magical pathways?" she asked. "I've never heard of that."

"Our magic travels through our bodies like water through a country. Right now, your pathways are like small creeks and streams. Widening them will be like turning them into raging rivers, allowing more magic to move throughout your body. All of the most powerful magic users have always had the largest pathways. Since I widened mine while I'm young, my growth potential is off the charts."

Harry immediately saw the look of pure greed spread across Hermione's face. It was obvious that she wanted to perform this ritual as well.

"The benefits go beyond just your magic potential. I'll be taller, stronger, smarter, and better looking than my peers," Harry explained. "Can't you already tell?" he asked her. Hermione's face began to heat up, and she nodded.

"It would be the same for you," he told her.

Hermione's heart was hammering in her chest as Harry walked behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. He leaned in and spoke softly. His warm breath tickled her inner ear. "Just imagine yourself in a few years … Slim waist and wide hips," he said, his hands moving down her sides until he was gripping her waist. "Big, perky breasts," he continued. "You could be the hottest girl in school."

She wanted that. She wanted it badly. For years she had been made fun of because of her bushy hair and buck teeth. It was time for that to end.

"And with power to boot, you could be unstoppable," he whispered into her ear. Hermione couldn't help herself. She squeaked softly and closed her legs as she came. Her body squirmed as Harry whispered such seductive things in her ear. She could feel the crotch of her panties sticking to her damp skin. Hermione had to sit down. Her legs were like jelly. Her chest was rising and falling as she sucked in deep breaths of air. As she breathed in, she could smell her own arousal which was thick in the air. The entire room was likely filled with the scent. She knew that Harry could smell it as well, and from the fact that she knew that he had experience with girls, she also suspected that he knew what it was that he was smelling. Hermione found that she didn't mind. She had used her cuteness to get her way with adults many times. She wasn't above using her sexuality now to get Harry to do what she wanted.

"But like I said, that's for another time," Harry told her. "Right now I'll teach you a few useful spells."

Hermione sat there listening to him while her nether region felt inflamed. She didn't know what was going on with her. Her body had never reacted that way. She decided that she would look into it later. At the moment, Harry was teaching her a few useful tricks that she could use during Transfiguration class.