Two weeks had gone by and December had settled on the castle, chilling the corridors and students alike with bitingly cold winds that whistled through the castle. In a surprise twist of fate Ravenclaw had been found innocent. Apparently when the Headmaster and his Deputy entered the Headmaster's office after leaving Ravenclaw tower, Dumbledore had handed the torn fragment of Ravenclaw robes to McGonagall. As a Transfiguration Mistress, she had immediately detected the spell work on the cloth and had countered the transfiguration to reveal a new set of colors beneath the blue and bronze piping. Gryffindor red and gold winked brightly at both of the Heads, setting off a scandal that rocked the foundations of the school.
The surprise development had left Gryffindor and Ravenclaw at odds to say the least. It was turning out to be worse than the Gryffindor and Slytherin rivalry that had been the political make up within the school for over a century. If it wasn't for Daniel Potter being a Gryffindor, the whole house was sure to have been the pariah of the castle, much like Slytherin used to be.
Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were both shocked at the blatant favoritism shown by the Headmaster towards the Gryffindor house; they were not threatened with probation or any other form of penalty. The unfairness of the situation struck a cord within the loyal badger house and it had thus thrown its support behind Ravenclaw. Slytherin took this chance to come back into the school and still thumb their noses at the foolish Gryffindorks.
In school, McGonagall was suddenly showing blatant favoritism toward her cubs, rivaling anything Professor Snape had ever shown his snakes. Transfiguration was quickly becoming the class most students dreaded taking and as it so happened, school work and test scores suffered accordingly.
In potions, just the opposite was happening and scores were rapidly rising as interest once again fell on the topic. Professor Snape even seemed…nicer… if such a word could be applied to him. Professor Flitwick was being viewed as the teacher McGonagall used to be, developing the reputation of a scrupulously fair teacher to all students.
Ravenclaw had been determined to beat the shit out of Gryffindor on the pitch and had succeeded in devastating the lions with a score of five hundred and forty to ninety two days earlier. Ron, red-faced with anger and humiliation, had been forced by Madam Hooch to shake Cornfoot's hand after the game.
The Slytherins were still laughing in the halls over that. They had even come up with another theme song for the Weasley boy, which did nothing to cool the enmity. Prank wars escalated, lining both Zonko's and the WWW pockets with galleons.
As for Harry, he sometimes had to stop himself from smirking at Daniel. Who knew taking hand-me-downs from his twin would have worked out so well? But Harry did not care to get involved with the house rivalries and most of the time he ignored his house's bristling tempers and bad moods; he had other things to do.
Amidst research and homework projects, Harry kept his promise and sequestered Hermione away for multiple sessions in broom closets all over the castle; never the same one twice. Without fail, his arduous suggestions caused a slight blush in Hermione's cheeks as they stole away for another passionate session.
Tonight, however, they weren't participating in a midnight rendezvous. Harry and Hermione found themselves in an empty classroom, instead of in a broom closet, examining the Hufflepuff cup. Though right now, a broom closet session sounded better to Harry. He had not been able to shake a bad feeling about this night.
His bad reaction to the cup had not escalated, but it showed no signs of weakening either. Hermione, on the other hand, didn't seem to cause a reaction from the cup at all. At first, they were both confused by the lack of feedback between her and the cup until Harry theorized that further contact with it would finally induce the desired response.
"You shouldn't touch it, Harry," Hermione warned as he reached out to pick it up from the table.
"I'm not sure I want you touching it either," he said, ignoring the sizzling zap from the cup. "You know what the book says."
"So that makes it all right for you to hold onto it?" Hermione said, fixing her large poofy bun. "Don't forget I too read the book and the wizard's notes in the margins as much as you did."
During one of their late night study sessions in the library Harry had confiscated the yellow parchment slips, claiming them to be his old bookmarks, before she could read them. He couldn't do anything about Dumbledore's notes in the margins, and passed those off as some other scholarly wizard's additions to the book.
He had even convinced her not to bother Dumbledore about the cup when he had presented it to her one night last week. He explained to her that the object had been the reason behind his avid research. When she asked about the origin of the cup, Harry fudged the story and diverted the topic towards its history as a founder's object. He didn't care if she fully believed that story or not, it was better than the truth.
"All it means is that the Horcrux has an affinity for me and reacts accordingly," Harry lied, down playing the situation as the cup bucked in his hand.
"Fine, be stubborn about it Harry, but tonight we're destroying that thing. It's evil and shouldn't be allowed to exist."
Harry fought the cup and eventually had to set it back down on a scarred desk to keep himself from being burned by the now hot metal cup. Wiping his hands on his robes, he inquired, "I take it you found a way to save the artifact while destroying the fragment of soul inside?"
Harry hadn't told her that the fragment was almost certainly a piece of Voldemort's soul. That would have had her even more anxious to take the Horcrux to Dumbledore than she had been in the first place. As it was, she was still bent on destroying such evil magic.
It would have also called his story into question and he didn't fancy having to explain that he had lied. He had overheard horror stories about other boys being caught lying. They had made him shudder and thank Merlin he never had a girlfriend. He wasn't sure what had changed his mind.
Hermione pulled out her wand. "Yes, I believe I have. I designed an alternative spell to the incantation in the book."
"Hold on!" Harry protested. "You're not going to randomly start tossing spells at that cup until you run them by me! I don't want you to get hurt!"
"Oh honestly, Harry," Hermione huffed, shooting the spell at a desk chair instead of the cup to prove its safety. "See? I've been working on this spell for the last week. I'm positive it'll work."
"I still think I should be the one to do it, besides a chair is not the same as an evil, soul infested chalice that's over 400 years old," Harry said, crossing his arms over his chest and trying to send a Snape-glare at her.
Hermione shook her head and raised her wand again. "Stop being a baby about it. The book said anybody could destroy a Horcrux."
"Don't be obtuse, Hermione. The book also didn't say anything about the consequences to said person after destroying a Horcrux. I'm worried about the magical backlash."
"Stop worrying, then. I'll test it right now. Avedo Kaodavrea!"
"Hermione!", shouted Harry as he jerked towards her.
Mesmerized, Harry watched in horror as the sickly yellow-green spell hurtled toward the dormant cup. When it hit the Horcrux, the spell enveloped the object in a blaze of colorful fire. Pressure seemed to emanate form the Hufflepuff cup and it began to build in the room.
Harry tried to run over to Hermione, but his gut tightened in terror as the pressure exploded outward. Hermione cried out in fear and pain as she was flung sideways into a wall. He screamed her name as the yellow-green light flooded the room, blinding his vision. Abruptly, her screams cut off and Harry felt bile rise up in his throat.
"Please, don't let her be dead!" he thought, fighting against the waves of magic hurtling against him.
Scrambling through the fading light, Harry fell to his knees beside her still and pale form. He shook her shoulders hard, screaming for her to wake up. Frantically he felt for her pulse and nearly collapsed in of relief when he found it.
Harry clutched her to his chest and stood up with her in his arms. He ran for the hospital wing, praying his stupidity wouldn't be the death of her. He should have done that spell! He should have done the original spell--the priceless cup be damned.
She was so cold! Blindly, Harry ran through the halls, ignoring shouts from Snape and Filch along the way. Her chest rose and fell against him with her strangled breathing. He had to get her to Madam Pomfrey immediately!
He felt his magic pool in his veins and fought the need to Apparate. The nurse would be extremely suspicious as it was; he didn't need to give her the ammunition that would lead Dumbledore straight to him on top of that.
Harry flew through the infirmary calling out for Madam Pomfrey at the top of his lungs.
"What on Merlin's green earth is going on out here---" she demanded, coming out of a side room. "Mr. Potter, please explain yourself!"
"Hermione, she's hurt!" Harry answered quickly, racing to a halt in front of the school Healer.
"Miss Granger?" she asked, worriedly, plucking her wand out and casting several diagnostic spells at once. "What happened?"
"She was trying out a new spell and it backfired," Harry replied, trying to make sense of the colors and annotations lighting up about Hermione's body.
"Her vitals are bad. Put her on a bed, Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey said, directing Harry to the beds on the left of the ward.
Harry did so quickly, depositing Hermione onto the nearest bed. Madam Pomfrey shoved him to one side so she could get closer to her patient. He stayed close, wanting to be near Hermione, but Madam Pomfrey was soon exasperated with him and with a spell tossed him back several feet.
"I need space to work with, Mr. Potter, and you're hovering isn't going to help. Now, tell me what type of spell she was testing. Can you remember the exact words she said?"
Harry shook his head, not wanting to divulge the spell Hermione used. "It was a counter-curse I think and meant to undo something. That's what she said, at least. It came out as a bright yellow-green spell. I'm not sure of what she said, though."
Pomfrey tsked and tutted, whisking her wand over Hermione again and said conclusively, "She's concussed. Did the spell reflect?"
Harry nodded, saying, "Yeah, it did. We were both flung into the walls. It was a powerful bit of spell work."
She flicked her wand, sending several blue threads into Hermione's ears. "Were you in a classroom, practicing for N.E.W.T.s?"
Gratefully, Harry latched onto the idea. "We were; wanted to be prepared for everything. They're coming up fast."
"That's the problem with this testing system. Every year, I get more and more students in here needing more calming draughts and headache drafts and Pepper-Up potions then the year before. They cause too much stress on you lot."
"They do decide our future within the community," he said simply. "Is she going to be okay?"
"We shall see," Pomfrey said, creating a bubble that encased Hermione's nose. "Right now it looks like the damage is only from the magical backlash that caused Miss Granger to hit her head. The blue threads will tell me more in a few hours. There could be more serious spell damage.
"Her breathing is also constricted, which is why I put the bubblehead charm on her. There's nothing to do now but wait it out. Why don't you go back to your house before you get in trouble for being out past curfew, Mr. Potter."
"Can I stay a bit longer?"
She looked at him, taking in his woebegone state and the worry evident in his gaze. "For a few minutes, but then you have to leave."
Harry nodded gratefully and used his wand to conjure a wooden stool. He placed it by the head of the bed and sat down. Harry looked down at Hermione's pale features and gently grasped her still hand, holding it carefully in his own.
Thoughts whizzed around his head faster than a Fanged Frisbee and held more bite. He let his eyes roam her face as he tried to organize his thoughts. The bubblehead charm distorted her appearance every time she took a breath, waving and blurring the air above her nose.
A small pit of emotion lodged itself in his stomach, causing his mouth to go dry. She had to be okay, just had too. He closed his eyes against the sight of her and rested his forehead on her cool hand.
He shouldn't have let her cast the spell; who knows what the Horcrux had done to her? Harry pressed his lips to her lifeless fingers and debated telling Madam Pomfrey about what she could be dealing with when it came to Hermione. It would get to Professor Dumbledore and he'd be expelled, but then they might know exactly how to cure her.
"Time to be going, Mr. Potter," a soft, firm voice said behind him.
Harry nodded and gently placed Hermione's hand back on the bed and stood up. Glancing briefly at the Healer, Harry bent down and brushed his lips against her forehead and straightened.
"When can I come back tomorrow?" he asked, placing his hands in his pockets.
Madam Pomfrey angled her head, thinking. "After the first of the morning classes would be a good time to come back."
"Thanks," Harry said and turned walking out of the infirmary.
Harry went back to the classroom and gathered their belongings. In the back of his mind, he wondered what went so wrong with her spell. Hermione wouldn't have made such a drastic mistake. She was meticulous and thorough, every detail checked and double checked before application.
Harry reached down to pick up the still humming cup, but yelled and dropped it as it burnt his hand. He looked down at his blistering palm and shook his head. Harry grabbed a corner of his sleeve and tried to pick it up. The cup hummed ominously and bucked. He dropped it immediately and growled at the stubborn cup.
Angry and upset, he thrust his wand forward and cried, "Annullo
Pravus!"
The cup emitted a whizzing, high pitched noise as the spell hit it. The menacing hiss reached an earsplitting volume before going silent. He blinked, waiting for the ringing in his ears to stop. Satisfied, Harry cast an accio at the partially melted cup. Catching it, Harry yelped a second time as the metal became scorching hot and a nefarious black liquid squirted up at him, hitting his glasses and eating through them at an alarming pace.
"Ugh!" Harry muttered, dropping the cup. "Bloody hell!"
The acidic substance was dissolving the frames, creating a molten mess on his face. Harry whipped his glasses off his nose and tossed them onto the desk. Glowering at the thing responsible for the loss of clear his sight, Harry kicked the cup, which made a tinny sound as it scuttled across the floor.
"Blasted thing, what the bloody hell is wrong with you?"
Harry waved his wand at his glasses and muttered the repairing charm to fix them and replaced them on his nose. They were worse for the wear and were more than slightly off now. He squinted, trying to bring things in focus and sighed in disgust when it didn't happen.
He flopped onto the stool and tapped the desk. An angry frown marred his brow as he pondered the situation. His face finally cleared when he reached a conclusion. Pulling from his pockets the pieces of scrap paper on which Dumbledore had wrote, he smoothed them out and studied them as he had done in the past out of Hermione's eyesight.
Harry thought he understood two of the clues now that he had read the book. It was obvious, reading the second scrap of paper, that Harry had come in contact with two other Horcruxes: the diary and the ring. He was also fairly certain that while the book claimed that a wizard could only make one Horcrux, that Voldemort had found a way around that and for some reason, Dumbledore suspected Voldemort had made either seven or thirteen of the things. That meant that Harry had had destroyed two of Voldemort's Horcruxes. Sadly, he had no idea how to duplicate those naïve and rather fortunate experiences.
But even still, Harry didn't understand was what Dumbledore meant by trophies. What did trophies mean? It had something to do with Voldemort's Horcruxes. Maybe the headmaster was thinking Tom used a trophy within the school to be the object of one of his Horcruxes.
However, there was nothing in Dumbledore's scribblings about how to properly destroy a Horcrux. It was also obvious Horatio Weatherby didn't know how to get rid of one or didn't want to.
Harry waved his hand and caught the Horcrux book and flipped through it. There had to be something he and Hermione missed; something that could explain the dismal failure that was the attempted the destruction the Hufflepuff cup. He scanned Dumbledore's notes repeatedly until he found the jot in the margin that had been particularly illegible. It was as if it was written in a hurry and had consequently suffered in translation.
Frowning at the blotched writing, Harry waved his wand experimentally. Harry put a little more power into the silent spell and the results were the same. Several more tries yielded nothing and frustrated, Harry muttered disparagingly at the note. He glowered at the little snake decoration on the top of the page until it shimmered and danced before his eyes.
§ Become legible, damn it!§
Surprise flowed over Harry's features as he realized that his Parseltongue command was being followed. Not only being followed but taken to a level that Harry hadn't specified. Dumbledore's notes cleaned up and thickened and the faint script forming the text of the book grew thicker and darker.
Did the book only respond to Parseltongue? He tried another command, changing Dumbledore's ink color to red. He switched it to blue in Latin (so speaking in Latin works too?) and frowned in thought. Harry vaguely remembered calling out for his glasses in the Chamber of Secrets after Apparating. Could he do other incantations in Parseltongue as well?
He muttered at the door and waved his hand, sealing the door with a single word. Shock registered, before he was overwhelmed with giddiness. He could do things with this aspect of magic that the Latin couldn't do! He could refine spells, cast them quicker, and even make up his own charms and hexes!
The euphoria passed as he remembered the Horcrux and Hermione. Quickly scanning back through the pages he saw that the magic had followed through and cleared up the entire book. Skipping back to the page he had been on, Harry glanced at Dumbledore's written inscription.
A Horcrux must be a vessel. Literally or theoretically? Must it hold something tangible? Must the Horcrux be solid?
"A vessel," Harry murmured, before glancing at the cup. "How does that explain the others though? Is it more theoretical?"
He flipped further in the book and found nothing new. Closing the book, Harry bit his lip in thought. If the diary and ring were Horcruxes, how were they vessels? He supposed, looking at it from a more intangible viewpoint, that a diary held thoughts and memories because it was what one would record inside it. The ring too could be a vessel as it held a finger.
"Hello, Harry," Myrtle simpered, startling him from his thoughts as she flew up through the floor. "You told me to come get you when the potion is ready for the final series of ingredients before the stasis charm."
He stood up, saying, "I'll be down, shortly. Please watch the potion and let me know if it turns slimy."
"Okay, Harry," Myrtle said sweetly, drifting through the floor while humming to herself.
Harry shook his head and collected everything, hurriedly gathering the cup and forcing it into his back pack, and took off. Down in the Chamber, Harry dropped the bag near the snoring snakes and crossed into the lake-flooded room. Myrtle was drifting a few inches above the floor with her chin resting on her hands while she sat cross legged staring into a steaming cauldron.
"So what's happened," he asked as he dropped down beside her.
"It crossed from yellow-gold to ultramarine and started steaming," she said, glancing up at him as he tied the bandana around his hair.
"Ultramarine?" Harry repeated, eyes widening as he peered into the cauldron.
She straightened, pushing her glasses up her stubby nose. "I know you thought it should be a deep green, but I think this is better than you could have hoped for after changing the potion around."
He frowned and picked up a spoon to scoop out a little of the potion. Examining it up close, he sniffed it, searching for something that might tell him the potion fouled. It seemed fine so Harry dumped it back into the smoking batch below and noted its consistency.
"It's much too thin. It was supposed to be thicker."
"Maybe," Myrtle said, leaning over the cauldron to look with him, her pearly touch his making him shiver. "But only in theory. You could have been wrong about this, after all the Bubotuber pus could be reacting differently due to the presence of the fluxweed."
He hummed thoughtfully, pondering what she said before leaning over and picking up his potions notebook. Reading over the previous observations he reluctantly agreed with the girl ghost and reached over to grab the last of the ingredients.
Carefully adding one Devil's Snare root at a time, he watched for unprecedented growth from the cutting. They quivered before shriveling up and dissolving in the fairly acidic potion. The potion fumed sludge bubbles that popped with a wet splurting sound, their residual gunk landing mostly on the floor and sometimes on him. Ignoring it, he added pieces of crushed lionfish spine and stirred clockwise for eight counts before going anti-clockwise for three. He repeated this for eleven sets.
Finally the potion thickened, draining of color, becoming like lumpy water. Proudly Harry placed the potion on low heat and placed the whole potion under a light time-slowing charm. He had finished with the brewing faster than his original estimates.
"You're done," Myrtle said, watching Harry with a morose look on her face.
"It appears so," he agreed with a smile, cleaning up the leftover potion ingredients and packing up the rest of the kit. "I should be able to drink it in two days. If it works, I'll experience a brief transformation. Hopefully I'll stay transformed long enough to know what form I will have to work towards under a controlled situation. Then all I have to do is practice until I achieve the change."
Moaning Myrtle smiled briefly before asking in what she thought was a coy manner, "Will you be practicing here, Harry?"
Harry blinked at her, repressing a queasy look from reaching his face at the meaning behind her words. "Er… yeah, I guess so."
"Oh, good," Myrtle stated with relief.
"Yeah--I got to get going, curfew has gone into effect and I'm going to have to sneak as it is."
"If you get caught, I'll cover for you Harry."
Harry's cheeks reddened. "Thanks, Myrtle. See you in a couple of days."
He turned abruptly and scurried out of the Chamber, briefly pausing to scoop up Serion on his way out the piping under the girls' sinks. The tiny snake curled around his wrist, basking in Harry's warmth as they stole from the girl's toilets and climbed five floors to get to the Ravenclaw common room.
A group of Ravenclaws were scheming over a piece of parchment when he walked through the portrait. They were whispering excitedly and looked up at him only long enough to identify and disregard him. He ignored them and made his way to his dormitory. His dorm mates were either snoring or finishing up homework scrolls and didn't pay him any heed.
Uncaring he slipped into his pajamas and slunk through the curtains of his bed. Harry slumped against the pillow, beating it into a hard ball and placing his head on it. Serion slipped off his wrist and curled beside him, near the wall.
§ You are awfully pensive,§ Serion commented.
§ Hermione and I tried to destroy the Horcrux this evening.§
§ I take it that didn't happen.§
§ No, she's in the infirmary unconscious.§
Serion flicked his tongue out for a few seconds before stating grimly, § Does the Healer think she's going to be all right?§
Harry shrugged, shifting onto his back staring at the top of his four poster. The dark blue and bronze pattern swirled gently, looking like dim galaxies and constellations. § She wouldn't say, but I think so. I mean it was just a bloody spell rebounding, it's not like it could cause that much damage.§ He was silent for a beat before adding, § Right?§
§ I wouldn't know,§ Serion hissed softly, trying to soothe his human friend.
§ Maybe she'll wake up tomorrow,§ Harry said hopefully.
§ The girl seems strong.§
Harry looked over at the green garden snake. § Hermione is strong.§
§ Then she'll be okay.§ Serion waited for the silence between them to stretch before asking, § Still think you're animagus is magical?§
Harry took off his glasses and closed his eyes. § Naturally.§
§ I hope you turn into a flubber worm or one of those blast ended skrewts.§
§ Funny,§ Harry said, scrubbing his eyes with the back of his hand and yawning. § I expected you to want me to turn into a pygmy puff.§
§ It would be more humiliating for you to turn into a magical creature that was disappointing in stature. I could go for a fire slug. Maybe you should become one of those.§
§ I'd transform back while in your stomach and rip you apart.§
§ You could try,§ Serion retorted brashly.
§ I think I'll pass,§ Harry hissed, falling asleep.
§ She's going to be awake before classes tomorrow. You'll see§
Harry nodded sluggishly into his pillow. § Good-night, Serion.§
§ Night brat.§
º«««º»»»ºEnd Chapter 17º«««º»»»º