CHAPTER 70: UNSEEN BATTLES
"Damn it!" Harry muttered, narrowly avoiding a nasty fall as his foot caught on the edge of an enchanted suit of armor. The clanking of the metal echoed ominously in the otherwise empty corridor. He was sprinting towards the seventh floor, heart pounding in his chest as he shot a glance at the clock. Miss McGonagall's class? Sure, no big deal, he thought. But Flitwick's too? That would definitely land him in hot water. If he wasn't careful, Dumbledore would be waiting for him before dinner, eyes twinkling but questions sharp as knives.
And the worst part? This wasn't even his fault. Well... not completely his fault, anyway.
The memory of the Chamber of Secrets flashed vividly in his mind—Vasuki's cold, serpent eyes staring him down, the scales glistening like cursed jewels in the dim underground light. The duel had been brutal. It had taken everything he had to survive, to banish the ancient magic that wrapped itself around him like a suffocating coil. His limbs still felt heavy from the magical exhaustion that followed, as though someone had sucked the life force right out of him.
"Lucky I even made it out in one piece," he muttered under his breath, his pace slowing slightly as he neared the next staircase. He owed part of that luck to the fact that his awareness of the Chamber had somehow expanded, offering him not only a map of its depths but also a mental blueprint of all the hidden entrances and exits. Thirty-one. Thirty-one secret ways in and out of the Chamber, scattered all over the castle like pieces of a puzzle only he could see. One of them even opened up through a mirror in the Slytherin Common Room, hidden behind the walls of the general girls' bathroom.
Daphne hadn't been amused when he told her that part.
Harry smirked at the memory. She had rolled her eyes, crossed her arms in that no-nonsense Slytherin way, and then dragged him halfway across the castle by his sleeve. He had popped out of a hidden entrance from a pillar on the third floor, startled to find himself right next to a lone window overlooking the East Tower. It was just a stone's throw away from his private room.
"If you're going to sneak around, Potter," Daphne had said dryly, "at least try not to get caught materializing out of solid stone next time."
He had chuckled at her remark, not missing the glint of irritation in her stormy grey eyes. But he couldn't help it—despite the insanity of everything, it felt good to have someone around who wasn't constantly panicking or in awe of him.
"I'll keep that in mind," he had said with a grin, leaning casually against the pillar. "Though you've got to admit, it's pretty convenient. You know, if you ever need to make a quick getaway."
Daphne's eyes had narrowed. "We need to talk about that Slytherin bathroom entrance, by the way. I'm not going through any bloody mirrors unless I know exactly where they lead."
Harry had raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. Next time we'll check it out together—Scout's honour." He had paused, considering for a moment. "Or... you could always stay the night."
Daphne's expression had changed instantly. Her cheeks, already flushed from their rapid walk, had turned a deeper shade of red, and her eyes had flickered with surprise. Harry hadn't meant anything by it—he'd been more concerned about the time and how it might look for her to be wandering the halls so late. But as soon as he realised the implications, he felt his own face heat up.
"Er... I mean, not like that—just, you know, because it's late and... it'd be safer." He had stumbled over his words, suddenly aware of how close they were standing.
Daphne had stared at him for a heartbeat longer, before hurriedly shaking her head. "No, no, I can't," she had said, her voice flustered. "Tracey and Pansy would never let me hear the end of it if I didn't make it back by morning." She'd hesitated, the corner of her mouth twitching. "Though I'm sure the rumor mill would have a field day."
Harry had groaned at the thought of all the gossip that would spread like Fiendfyre the next morning. The castle was bad enough, but the Slytherins had a knack for turning a whisper into a full-blown scandal.
"Alright," he had said with a sigh, still feeling a little awkward. "At least take the Invisibility Cloak. You can slip past Filch and any Prefects on patrol that way."
"I'll be fine," she had reassured him, though there was a hint of something warm in her voice that hadn't been there before. "Tracey's a Prefect. Worst case, I pull rank."
They had lingered a moment longer, the cool night air drifting through the window, ruffling their robes. Daphne's expression had softened then, her usual guardedness slipping away.
"Thanks, though," she had added quietly. "For offering."
Harry had shrugged, but there was a warmth in his chest that hadn't been there earlier. "Anytime."
They had eventually gone their separate ways, agreeing to investigate the Slytherin bathroom entrance another time. But as Harry now dashed down the hallway, his mind kept drifting back to the look on Daphne's face, her cheeks flushed, and the awkward pause that had followed his suggestion. His heart still raced, though he wasn't sure if it was from sprinting or from the lingering effect of that moment.
When Harry finally stumbled into his dormitory that night, his limbs felt leaden, and sleep claimed him the moment his head hit the pillow.
The next thing he knew, sunlight was streaming through the window, far too bright for it to still be early morning. Bugger. He groaned, rubbing his eyes. He had overslept—badly. He glanced at his clock: breakfast was long gone, and so was Transfiguration. Could be worse, he thought. At least missing McGonagall's class isn't a disaster—what's one more hour of theory I can't practice anyway?
But Flitwick... Flitwick was another story.
Professor Flitwick was about to start boundary charms this week, a topic Harry had been looking forward to. No way in hell I'm missing that, Harry thought, throwing on his robes with the urgency of someone trying to outrun their fate.
In hindsight, he really should've known better than to tempt the universe like that.
He rounded the corner near the Charms corridor, intent on shaving seconds off his already late arrival, when—WHAM—he collided head-on with someone. The force of the impact sent him sprawling to the ground, his glasses askew. Harry blinked in confusion, momentarily disoriented as his head throbbed from the sudden crash.
"Ooof!" came a startled feminine cry as whoever he'd run into fell alongside him. Harry groaned, rubbing his nose, already fumbling for an apology. But when he looked up, words failed him.
"Watch it, you filthy—" The voice was venomous, sharp with irritation, but it cut off abruptly as the girl's eyes met his. Cho Chang stood before him, eyes wide with shock, and for a brief second, they were frozen in mutual surprise.
Then, just as quickly, her shock morphed into something far darker. Her eyes narrowed, her lips curling into a sneer that sent a chill down Harry's spine.
"You," she hissed, her voice dripping with venom. "What do you want, Potter? Come to kill me again?"
Harry blinked, his brain struggling to catch up with the absurdity of her accusation. Kill her? What on earth was she talking about? His mind raced in circles, trying to connect the dots, but nothing made sense. He squinted at her, confusion etched across his face. Since when did bumping into someone turn into a murder attempt?
He opened his mouth, scrambling for some sort of explanation that would make sense of the bizarre situation. Instead, what came out was, "You, uh, didn't hurt your head, did you?"
Cho's face turned a deep shade of purple, her eyes blazing with fury. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, trembling slightly, and Harry instantly knew he'd chosen the absolute worst thing to say.
Great, he thought sarcastically. So much for diplomacy.
"Idiot," she snapped, pushing herself off the ground with a force that suggested she'd rather set him on fire than accept any help. Harry, still feeling slightly dazed, extended his hand to her out of reflex.
She glared at his offered hand as if it were a cursed object. With a sharp flick of her wrist, she batted his fingers away and stood on her own, brushing off her robes. Harry suppressed a sigh, wondering why he even bothered.
"Right," Harry muttered, standing up and adjusting his glasses. He couldn't help but notice how Cho seemed to have perfected a sneer that would've made Draco Malfoy proud. Except it doesn't really suit her, he thought absently. The expression only made her look like an unusually angry teddy bear. She should really take lessons from Parkinson—or better yet, from Snape. Now, that git could teach an entire course on sneering.
The thought made him chuckle internally, and he filed it away as something to ask Daphne about later. Maybe Snape really did give out sneering lessons in the Slytherin common room.
"Are you going to stand there gawking all day, or are you going to move?" Cho's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Her eyes were still narrowed, but there was something deeper in them now—something that looked dangerously close to real hurt, hidden beneath the hostility.
Harry blinked, unsure of what to say. The tension between them was thick, and he had no idea what he'd done to provoke this level of animosity. Their last interaction hadn't exactly been pleasant, but this was on a whole different level.
"I didn't mean to—" Harry started, but Cho cut him off with a sharp wave of her hand.
"Save it, Potter," she spat. "I don't need your apologies."
There was a beat of silence, and Harry stood frozen, watching as Cho's glare burned a hole through him. She wasn't angry at just bumping into him—this went much deeper, and he had no idea why.
Finally, Cho turned on her heel and stormed off, her robes swirling dramatically behind her. Harry watched her go, his mind still buzzing with confusion. What the bloody hell was that about?
"Err, sorry," Harry began, raising his hands defensively, trying to defuse the situation before it spiraled out of control. "I was running, and I didn't see you coming—"
"Of course you didn't," Cho cut him off with a contemptuous snort, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You never see or do anything. You just magically get entered into a prestigious tournament, then magically vanish to some graveyard, and magically kill people without intending to. Isn't that right, Potter?"
Harry stopped short, her words stinging more than he cared to admit. There was a venom in her tone, a bitterness that went far beyond a simple hallway collision. He held her gaze for a moment, considering his response, then replied flatly, "Yes."
Cho's fists clenched tightly at her sides, her knuckles white. "Your levity won't change the truth, Potter," she snapped, her voice quivering with barely contained rage. "I know what you did, and I'll make sure you get what's coming to you. Cedric was a hero, and you've tarnished his name just to—"
"To what?" Harry interrupted, his patience thinning, annoyance creeping into his voice. He stepped forward, his expression hardening. "To what, Chang? What exactly are you accusing me of?"
"You lied about Cedric!" she shouted, the accusation hanging heavily in the air between them. "Cedric didn't kidnap you!"
Harry crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing. "Have you been living under a rock?" he snapped, his temper flaring. "The trial was broadcast on the WWN. Everyone heard it. I never claimed that Cedric did it on purpose. He might've been Imperiused, or given a potion. We'll never know for sure. But the fact is—he did try to kill Krum. He did use the Cruciatus on Fleur. And he did kidnap me."
He watched as her face twisted with a mixture of shock and disbelief, her body going rigid. A part of him wanted to end the conversation right then and there, walk away from the mess she was spewing. But Harry had learned from bitter experience what happened when he let rumors and half-truths fester unchecked. He'd had enough of that in second year and again in fourth, with the entire school turning against him over nothing but lies and assumptions.
"In fact," Harry said, stepping closer, his voice low and dangerous, "if you want to blame someone, blame his dad. Amos Diggory. He's the one who left holes in the wards that allowed the Portkey to get through in the first place. All because he wanted a free holiday package to Greece."
Cho's face contorted with fury, her eyes flashing dangerously as she whipped her wand out, pointing it directly at Harry. "You take that back!" she snarled, her voice shaking with barely suppressed rage.
"Why?" Harry shot back, refusing to back down, his green eyes blazing. "Because the truth isn't as convenient as you'd like it to be? Because your perfect little future with Cedric, the Triwizard champion, came crashing down and now you want someone to blame? Well, guess what, Chang, I'm not responsible for what happened to Cedric, and I'm certainly not going to take this banshee act from you anymore."
He could see her trembling with fury, her wand hand shaking as though she might actually hex him. But Harry wasn't done. He was sick of being everyone's scapegoat, sick of people like Cho holding him accountable for things outside his control.
"I get it. You were betrothed to Cedric last year," he said, his voice cold but steady, cutting through the tension like a knife. "But that doesn't give you the right to attack me like this. If you want pity, go look somewhere else, because you're not getting it from me."
Cho's face drained of color at his words, the fury in her eyes replaced by something darker—hurt. But Harry was beyond caring. He had enough on his plate with Umbridge breathing down his neck, Lucius Malfoy plotting behind the scenes, and Voldemort looming in the distance like a storm cloud on the horizon. He didn't have the time or the patience to deal with Cho Chang's bruised ego on top of everything else.
Without another word, he shouldered his bag and strode past her, his footsteps echoing in the empty corridor as he made his way toward Flitwick's classroom. His heart was pounding in his chest, anger and frustration bubbling beneath the surface. It seemed like everywhere he turned, there was always someone looking to throw the blame his way, always another accusation waiting to land squarely on his shoulders.
One thing after another, he thought bitterly. As if Voldemort and Umbridge weren't enough, now I have to deal with Chang's misplaced vendetta too.
Harry glanced between Cho and Susan, the tension in the hallway still crackling in the air. He let out a slow breath, lowering his wand but keeping his grip firm just in case. He wasn't in the mood for more drama, especially with the whole situation spiraling out of control faster than he had anticipated. Cho's face was twisted with fury, her hands shaking slightly at her sides. But Susan—calm, collected, and no-nonsense—stood her ground, her wand still raised.
"Give me back my wand, Bones," Cho repeated, her voice low and threatening this time, taking a step forward as if trying to intimidate the Hufflepuff.
"No," Susan said firmly, not even flinching. "Casting spells in the corridors is strictly against school rules. And attacking another student? Even worse. You know the consequences, Chang. You're going to face them whether you like it or not."
Cho's eyes flashed dangerously, but she didn't make a move to retrieve her wand. Harry felt the urge to step in, diffuse the situation before it escalated even further, but he knew better than to interfere with a Prefect handling an infraction.
"Susan's right, Cho," Harry said, keeping his voice steady but not backing down. "This isn't going to help Cedric's memory, and it sure as hell isn't going to change anything about what happened last year."
Cho's lips trembled, her chest heaving as if she were trying to hold back tears or maybe more fury. She was clearly on the edge, her emotions so close to spilling over that Harry almost felt sorry for her. Almost.
"You think you know everything, don't you, Potter?" she spat, her voice quivering. "You think you can walk around, act like the hero, and everyone just follows along. But you're no hero. You're just a liar, and one day, everyone's going to see it."
Harry stared at her, his heart heavy. He knew the pain behind her words. Cho had loved Cedric, and losing him had broken her in ways that none of them truly understood. But this—this blind hatred—wasn't going to heal her wounds. She needed time, not more fights.
Before he could respond, Susan stepped forward again. "That's enough, Cho. You're upset, but that doesn't give you the right to lash out. Harry didn't deserve that, and you know it."
Cho's eyes filled with tears, her mask of fury cracking at last. She looked from Susan to Harry, then back again, her expression wavering between anger and something deeper—something raw and pained. Her lips quivered as she bit back a sob, her body shaking from the strain of holding it all in.
Susan's stern demeanor softened slightly, though her voice remained firm. "You're coming with me to McGonagall's office. Let's go."
Cho didn't say a word, but the fight seemed to drain out of her as she reluctantly followed Susan down the corridor. Harry watched them go, feeling a strange mix of relief and guilt settle in his chest. He hadn't wanted this. None of it. But Cho's anger was like a wound that wouldn't heal, festering inside her, and no matter what he said or did, it always came back to Cedric.
"She'll be alright," came Susan's voice from a few feet away. She had turned around briefly, giving Harry a reassuring glance before continuing down the hall with Cho in tow. "She just needs time."
Harry nodded, though he wasn't so sure. Time didn't seem to heal everything. It hadn't healed him. Still, he couldn't help but hope Susan was right.
Turning on his heel, he began walking again, heading towards Flitwick's classroom, his thoughts now a jumbled mess. The encounter with Cho had left him rattled, though he wouldn't admit it. The bitterness in her voice, the accusations—he could still hear them echoing in his mind.
You're no hero. You're just a liar.
Harry shook his head, trying to clear the thought. He didn't have time to dwell on it. He had more pressing concerns—like Umbridge's increasing influence, Malfoy's schemes, and, of course, Voldemort. He couldn't afford to get distracted by old wounds and unresolved feelings.
🌟 New Chapter Update! CHAPTER 71 IS UPLOADED ON BLOG 🌟
Hey everyone! A brand-new update is now LIVE on my blog! 🚀
🔹 Be the first to read the latest chapter!
🔹 Subscribe to my blog for early access and stay updated on all future releases.
📢 Important Note: FanFiction updates will go live a week later, so don't wait—head over to the blog now for the latest content!
peverellmagics. blogspot
Your support means everything! Let me know your thoughts in the comments. 👇😊
#NewUpdate #EarlyAccess #SubscribeNow #PeverellMagic
Step into the world of PEVERELL_MAGIC on P.a.t.r.e.o.n! Experience where tales unfold, magic ignites, and the future takes shape.
For exclusive support and early access to upcoming chapters, join us at PEVERELL_MAGIC on P.a.t.r.e.o.n.
Note: Get the scoop a day before anyone else! Updates release on P.a.t.r.e.o.n before they hit FanFiction. Join us for free to read ahead!