Hogwarts Battle School by Kwan

Rating: R
Genres: Romance, Action & Adventure
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 7
Published: 31/07/2012
Last Updated: 30/03/2016
Status: In Progress

AU. Voldemort kills Dumbledore and advances on the Potters but is vanquished by just a child. In
Dumbledore's will, Snape is left the position of Headmaster of Hogwarts and he has changed the
school into something else entirely. Harry, sorted into Slytherin, is beginning his Third Year when
he realizes that friend and foe are all too similar for his liking. Competing against allies and
enemies, Harry learns that there is a price to winning.




1. Tenth
--------



**A/N: Thank you to my beta.**

*Book I: The Bringer of Lightning*

"Do you know why most people fail the first time around? It's because they're
weak…they're scared…they're unable to face the fact that there might be someone better than
them. That's what you have to understand. That's what you need to know when you enter
Hogwarts Battle School. Everyone here…Muggleborn, Half-Blood, Pureblood…can beat you. Once you
accept failure, then you will realize what it takes to achieve perfection. That's when you will
realize that you might not win and that you will probably lose. Only then will you lose the fear of
failure."

Headmaster Snape delivered the succinct speech gloomily, his scowl seeming to drop lower and
lower on his face as he spoke with a quiet ferocity that silenced every single student at Hogwarts
Battle School. There was no special garnishing or instructions for the school year. Everyone
already knew the rules.

Win at all costs.

Harry Potter eyed the Headmaster approvingly, replaying the words over and over in his head.
True, it was melodramatic and heavy-handed, but Snape had a part to play, and he played it to
perfection. It was the third time Harry had heard the Headmaster's beginning-of-the-year
speech, and this one was by far the best.

"Heavy as it always is," said Blaise Zabini, Harry's best friend.

"Well you know how the Hufflepuffs are. Scared shitless, the lot of them. It's a
surprise they haven't all dropped out," Harry answered.

"They have to stay. Where else would they go?"

This was true. There was no school like Hogwarts Battle School.

According to some of the more tenured professors, Hogwarts was not always this way. Harry had
researched it in various books in the library and found that the Hogwarts had been a mostly
academic institution for the majority of its lifetime. Sure, there were little changes from
Headmaster to Headmaster, but nothing as militaristic as this. But Harry knew *why* Hogwarts
had become the way it was: the death of the great Albus Dumbledore at the hands of the self-styled
Lord Voldemort.

The night before Lord Voldemort, originally Tom Riddle, made his way to Godric's Hollow, he
had killed what many thought was the only defense against the malevolent wizard. So when a
green-eyed baby deflected the Killing Curse and vanquished the Dark Lord, there was obviously much
hubbub about the little boy.

That little boy would grow up to become Harry Potter of House Slytherin.

"Where do you think you'll end up in the pre-year rankings?" asked Tracey Davis, a
pretty yet combative Slytherin.

"Me? Top twenty, to be honest. Of course, nowhere near Harry." Blaise smirked, his
eyes sparkling against his dark complexion.

"What you think, Harry? Top spot this year?" Tracey asked with a wink.

A voice suddenly cut in. “The Mudblood will probably take it.”

Draco Malfoy could be heard clear across the table, and Harry was sure that the nearby
Ravenclaws had heard the slur. He didn't blink as his eyes flicked towards the blond boy. The
arrogant smirk that Draco wore so well infuriated Harry to no end.

"Ranking Granger ahead of yourself? Did someone take a pin to your inflated head?"
Blaise asked cheekily. Unlike some others, he wasn't afraid of the rich boy.

"Father wasn't too happy when Headmaster Snape visited some time ago. Surely it must be
the Mudblood."

"I think Harry deserves it," Tracey said.

Draco looked at Harry with an arched eyebrow and an ever-growing grin. "What do you think,
Scarhead? Snape going to give you top spot?"

It was a trick question and Harry knew it. Claim that he should have the top spot, and others
would see him as arrogant and be less likely to fight for him in classes when the time came. Answer
that Hermione Granger, the talented Muggleborn from Gryffindor, would place above him and everyone
would see that as a sign of weakness. But Harry had sparred with Malfoy before, with words and with
spells.

"Snape will give who he wants top spot. Doesn't matter, though. I'll have it at by
the end of the year."

Draco snorted, a smile on his face but a disappointed glint in his eyes. "We'll see
about that."

Truth be told, Harry expected to be top five at the very least. Every year, before classes
officially started, an enormous ranking would be posted. There was the Master List, a list that
categorized every single student of Hogwarts, no matter the year. Most Fifth Years and below
didn't even bother looking at that list. None of them would crack the upper third.

Then there was the Years List. In each year, all the students were ranked from one to forty.
Headmaster Snape had standardized the acceptance letters, so there were five boys and five girls
accepted every year with no deviation. Spread throughout the four Houses of Hogwarts, each student
would be ranked; the rank would change throughout the year depending on their performance in class
and in solo and House duels.

The children that did not receive a letter to Hogwarts would be redirected to other magical
schools such as the Wolping Institute in Liverpool or the Fendon Academy near Manchester. Neither
of those schools held the prestige of Hogwarts, but they were options for those who had not be
accepted at the revamped academy.

The Houses List was yet another metric. Each House would compete against the others for points.
At the end of the year, the top House from each year would compete in a free-for-all at the end of
the year in an event called the House Match. After the House Match, the top twenty students in the
school would compete for the Hogwarts Trophy. The battlegrounds and conditions changed from year to
year depending on how cruel the teachers wanted to be.

Harry concentrated his efforts on the House Match. There was almost no chance he would compete
for the Hogwarts Trophy. The top twenty students were almost always Seventh and Sixth Years, with
the rare Fifth Year thrown into the mix. If he could lead the Third Year Slytherins into the House
Match, anything could happen.

At least, anything would be better than the disaster of his First Year.

"What do you think of the new Creatures teacher?" asked Theodore Nott, a taciturn but
cunning boy.

Harry looked up to see the disheveled Creatures teacher. The Creatures teacher taught the
students how to defend themselves against dangerous magical creatures and, in rare cases, convince
those creatures to fight for them. This teacher, a Professor Lupin if Harry recalled, was looking
at Snape with something akin to loathing. Then again, that wasn't new. Headmaster Snape hardly
inspired love among his students or his teachers.

"Looks like a bum, to be honest." Harry chewed his meal thoughtfully as he examined
the Professor's worn clothes.

There were seven classes on their class schedule. The aforementioned Creatures class was
unpopular amongst students, mostly because it didn't deal with direct conflict against other
wizards. There was Potions, taught by a bumbling mass of flesh called Professor Slughorn. Then
there was Charms, taught by previous Dueling Champion and dwarf, Professor Flitwick.
Transfiguration, by the stern and sometimes nasty Professor McGonagall. Dueling was taught by the
aptly named Mad-Eye Moody. Strategy was taught by the alabaster Wendell Trow, a professor so pale
that some people likened him to the now departed Professor Binns.

The remaining class was the one most people simultaneously anticipated and hated. Battle class
was where all of the competitions that affected ranking and the House list took place. True,
one's performance in the rest of the classes dictated a small portion of your ranking within
the school, but nothing like Battle class. In Battle class, one could rise high above one's
peers and even climb the ladder of the Master List. In Battle class, students were pitted against
one another in various scenarios with different stipulations and restrictions. Battle class was
taught by Headmaster Snape.

It was unusual for any Headmaster to teach a class, but Snape had made it his personal agenda to
oversee this Battle class and keep a personal eye on the progress of his students. It was known
that the top students were recruited heavily by not only the Ministry of Magic in Britain but other
Ministries abroad that sought their talents. Well-trained and exceptionally good at dueling,
graduates from the Hogwarts Battle School had no shortage of offers on their table, some not even
associated with any form of dueling.

Harry looked up and spotted a mass of bushy hair, spotting the devastatingly clever Hermione
Granger. Her claim to fame was that she was the first Muggleborn to have ever held the number-one
ranking in her year for nineteen weeks straight. So strong was her grip on that top ranking during
her Second Year that even Hufflepuffs had begun teasing her in the hallways in an attempt to throw
her off her game. Still, she was undeterred, and by the time Hermione was toppled from the top of
the list, there was no doubt she was the “Muggleborn Champion.”

Of course Draco had to have his own special name for her as he couldn't accept a Muggleborn
being so dominant. He referred to her as the “Mudblood Champion,” but Harry recognized that even
Malfoy was aware of her abilities.

As it happened, Granger looked up to catch Harry's eye. They held each other's gaze,
green versus brown, for just a few seconds. Granger broke it off first with a curt nod. Not knowing
what else to do, Harry nodded back. Though he had never spoken to Granger personally, he knew and
respected her talents. Anyone who could hold the top ranking of her year for nineteen weeks
straight was someone to pay attention to.

*Maybe one day, we'll meet each other in a duel**.*

"Bets on the Master List?" offered Adrian Pucey, a Slytherin a year older than them,
as he went down the table shaking a bowler hat.

Each year, everyone took bets on who would crack the top fifty of the Master List. Of course,
lesser odds were given to older students and few people bet on them because the line was so flat,
but around the Fifth and Fourth Years, there was plenty of action. On the rare occasion that a
Fifth year cracked the top fifty in pre-year rankings, lots of money was to be made. Once, a Fourth
Year had managed himself into the top fifty, but of course, no one bet on him.

"You, Potter? Bet on the Boy-Who-Lived?" Pucey smiled, showing his crooked teeth, as
he shook the bowler hat in Harry's face.

Harry pushed the hat away. "No, thanks, Pucey."

"I'll put one in." Blaise grinned and produced a pouch of Galleons. "Ten
Galleons on Potter."

Harry rounded on his best friend. "Blaise! What are you doing?" Harry hissed.
"Don't light money on fire."

"Fire melts gold and then I'll still have gold anyways. What does it matter?"

"Fifty to one ain't bad odds, Zabini. But you're a stupid bitch." Pucey
chuckled as he took the money and wrote down the bet.

"He is right, Blaise. You are stupid. Not even Harry will crack the top fifty as a *Third
Year*." Tracey shook her head, pretty dark ringlets swaying about her heart-shaped
face.

"And if he does, I'm pocketing five hundred Galleons. I'll take my chances on the
Boy-Who-Lived."

Harry could only sigh, used to Blaise's gregariousness. He was rich through his mother, who
always somehow married a rich bloke on the verge of death. To Blaise, money was an abstract,
numbers he could throw around because he wanted to. But then again, much of Slytherin was like
that, born to old, rich, Pureblood families that had more money in their vaults than other
wizarding families.

For a moment, Harry wondered what his life would be like if Hogwarts was just another normal
school. The previous Headmaster Dumbledore had named Snape the Headmaster in a will created not so
long before his untimely death at the hands of Voldemort. Some say that it was the death of Albus
Dumbledore, the man who gave Snape a second chance, that fueled the scowling, hook-nosed man to
reform Hogwarts into this battle school. The whispers in the hallways were that Snape feared the
return of Voldemort and trained his students so if the Dark Lord or any of his Death Eater minions
returned, England would not be so caught out.

Still, the Dark Lord was dead; everyone knew that.

But if the Dark Lord was dead, why did Snape send Harry to his vile aunt and uncle? When Harry
was picked up at the age of eleven to attend Hogwarts Battle School, Snape had explained to him
that he was sent to his only blood relatives because of the dangers of retribution from Death
Eaters and to avoid anyone that sought to take advantage of his popularity when he was just a
child.

He claimed no knowledge of the abuse at the hands of the Dursleys, and Harry never asked him if
he knew. He wondered if Snape knew about the multitude of scars on his back.

Dinner suddenly ended although Harry could have sworn that Snape's speech was not so long
ago. The food vanished and the students waited on the edge of their seats in anticipation. Everyone
knew that once the opening feast ended, the lists would be unraveled in huge banners in the Great
Hall. Harry spotted the green of the Slytherin banner and counted until he found the Third Years.
While he didn't want to be too arrogant, he hoped that he was on the top of the list. After
all, he was the one that finally wrestled first from Granger at the end of their Second Year by
dueling two Ravenclaws at one time.

"Let the year begin."

The banners unraveled, rolling downwards in a carefully managed magic. Some of the students
hopped on top of the benches to get a better look. Some even stood on the tables and whooped or
hollered when they saw their name at the top of the list.

Harry concentrated on Third Year Slytherins and smiled when he saw himself ranked as number one.
Quickly, Harry scanned the list for some other names he could recognize. Draco Malfoy was third,
which would rankle the aristocratic boy. He spotted Blaise as eighteenth, and though his best
friend had predicted himself in the top twenty, Blaise's grumbling revealed his discontent with
the ranking.

Surprisingly, Tracey was ranked ninth, and Harry congratulated his other best friend.

Tracey blushed. ''Thanks, Harry.''

A quick scan of the list found nothing out of place from the rest of the Third Years, and
predictably, Neville Longbottom was last. The awkward, buck-toothed boy could always be counted on
to bring up the rear. Harry sat down, fighting back a grin as he thought the year was starting off
just right. He didn't notice the sudden hush as the Master List unfurled from the rafters.
Harry never paid attention to the Master List.

Most of his friends weren't really looking too, except for the ones that had placed bets on
older Slytherins. Harry turned to chatter excitedly to Blaise, trying to divulge some sort of
tactics to keep himself on top and raise his best friend's ranking in turn. But Blaise's
mouth was hanging open as he stared at the Master List. Harry shook him on the shoulder to get his
attention but Blaise was just dead weight.

"Zabini. What are you gawking at?" Harry demanded.

Blaise turned to him with eyes as wide as saucers and it was only then that Harry realized
others were looking at him the same way. He looked at all of them in confusion, wondering why he
was receiving *those* kinds of stares again. He remembered when he first entered Hogwarts and
when the Hat sorted him into Slytherin. True, he was the Boy-Who-Lived and defeated Voldemort, but
he thought they were all over that already. In Hogwarts Battle School, everyone started as an
equal.

"Harry," Blaise croaked out as he pointed a shaky finger at the Master List.

Harry raised his eyes, the light glancing off his glasses as he looked at the black banner of
the Master List. The names were tiny at a distance but magically enlarged as one's eyes roved
over them. Harry started near the bottom of the two hundred and eighty students, expecting his name
to at least be in the top one-fifty.

But it wasn't.

Harry kept scanning upwards, higher and higher on the black banner with the gold writing.

*125. Hermione Granger*

*100. Cho Chang*

*75. George Weasley*

*50. Penelope Clearwater*

*25. Cedric Diggory*

*10. Harry Potter*

"TENTH?" Harry managed to choke out.

The rest of Hogwarts was looking at him, the Boy-Who-Lived, with an amalgam of expressions. Most
were in disbelief, some were in awe, and a select few were angry. Harry gulped and looked towards
the Head Table to see the damning stare of Headmaster Snape. Harry swore that he could see a ghost
of a smirk on Snape's face.

They would be coming for him. Not only the kids in his year but everyone above him, taunting him
and bringing him down in the hallways. Harry was the first Third Year to ever to crack the top ten
of the Master List at the beginning of the year. That sort of recognition did not come without a
price, and he fully expected to be targeted by those who wished to disprove his ranking.

"Guess you won your five hundred Galleons, Blaise."

* * * * * * * * * *

**A/N: This story was inspired by a huge host of other works. You'll recognize some of them
within this very chapter (Let the year begin!) and as this story goes on, but it's an idea
I've been playing around with for a while.**

**A little background. The Sorcerer's Stone never happened. The Chamber of Secrets never
happened. The Potters are dead (I promise). Everything is canon up to and through the Maurader era.
I made a rather grave error in this chapter and wrote the future chapters in such a way that made
several of my readers facepalm so I'll get this out of the way - yes, the Slytherin boys have 6
people. Damn Crabbe and Goyle.**

**Thoughts? Questions? I really like what I've written so far with this story and I hope
the rest of you feel the same.**
 Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7
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2. Unpredictable
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**Thank you to my beta.**

*** * * * * * * * * ***

"He doesn't deserve it."

"Just Snape's little pet."

"He's nowhere near as good as me!"

"I wonder if he can fly?"

Harry could hear the whispers as he entered the Great Hall for breakfast the next day, and while
he did his best to look unperturbed by the rumors, the smallest part of him, the part he retreated
to when no one was looking, was stung by the accusations. Sure, he didn't feel like he
particularly *deserved* tenth place on the Master List, but he had been sure someone would
give him a little credit.

Judging from the immediate response, everyone thought it was a hoax.

Plopping down next to Blaise, who was far too cheerful for his liking, and Tracey, Harry dug
into his food, willing himself not to look up and make eye contact with yet another doubter. To his
great surprise, his breakfast was already prepared for him, the eggs scrambled and the bacon extra
crispy as he preferred.

"I got the elves to cook you something up in advance. I figured you would need it,"
Tracey explained.

"Thanks, Trace." Harry sighed gratefully, pleased that he wouldn't have to worry
about something else.

"Are you okay?" Tracey asked gently.

"Of course he's okay!" Blaise said, throwing his arm around Harry's shoulder.
"Tenth place! You hear that, everyone? TENTH*!*"

Harry shruggedoff Blaise's arm. "You're not helping," he grumbled.

"Blaise…" Tracey drew out the boy's name, a warning tone evident.

Blaise ignored her, pushing onwards, because in Blaise's mind, the only person that existed
was Blaise.

"Why should Harry feel bad about it? Snape and the teachers obviously think he's better
than almost all of the kids here. Do you not remember First Year?"

"*Everyone* remembers First Year," Tracey said with such ferocity that even
Blaise quailed and changed the topic.

"Well, I'm not ashamed, and my five hundred Galleons aren't ashamed either. Come
on, Tracey; stick up for your friend here."

"Tracey's doing just fine; it's you that needs to shut up," Harry said
lightly.

Blaise just laughed, chatting to whoever would listen about the five hundred Galleons he won by
placing his bet on Harry.

"Are you okay?" Tracey asked again, leaning in to talk a little more privately with
Harry.

"I'm fine." Harry brushed her off, ignoring the disappointed look on her cute,
heart-shaped face.

Harry looked up at the Master List again to see if last night and the following morning was all
some strange dream, but it wasn't. His name was still emblazoned in gold against the black,
seeming to stand out against all of the other names.

*10. Harry Potter* **-** *Third Year*

He could feel someone's eyes on him and turned slowly to find Snape's inquisitive gaze.
What was he wondering? Did he want to know how Harry felt? Did he want to know how people were
treating him? So many questions ran through Harry's mind, but he concentrated on his breakfast.
*Let Snape have his little games*…*for now*.

*** * * * * * * * * ***

Taking the chance to assess the situation as soon as the clamor of his entrance had died down,
Harry discreetly looked around to the different House tables. To his immediate left were the
Ravenclaws, a buffer to the other two Houses, which were naturally inclined to distrust Slytherins.
Ravenclaws, on the other hand, took a more neutral approach to divisive topics.

There were a few curious glances from the Ravenclaw table, but for the most part, they kept to
themselves and concentrated on breakfast and the upcoming classes. No doubt they had already
reasoned that placing Harry in tenth place was some sort of test by the teachers and the
Headmaster. Whoever had come up with that rather sound theory would have already spread it around
to all of the other Ravenclaws, subsequently disregarding Harry as just another experiment.
Knowledge, or perceived knowledge, spread like wildfire amongst the Ravenclaws, and they clung to
that notion.

The Hufflepuffs, naturally, were more skeptical of Harry's placement on the Master List.
Though only the more radical Hufflepuffs would ever believe that it was some sort of conspiracy
hatched by Harry himself, there were more than a few of them that thought Harry had somehow cheated
to get himself to the top of the list. Valuing hard work and honesty above all else, they had to
decide whether Harry was worthy of tenth on the Master List or that he had somehow cheated to get
to the top. Fortunately, Harry didn't consort enough with Hufflepuffs to pick their brains on
the matter.

Then there were the Gryffindors.

Somewhere along the line, it had been decided that Slytherins and Gryffindors just wouldn't
get along. What surprised Harry was the vehemence that both Houses stuck to that long-ingrained
pattern. Indeed, judging by the vicious and accusatory looks some of the Gryffindors, most notably
the Weasleys, were sending his way, they didn't believe Harry deserved tenth on the Master List
at all. Or twentieth. Or fiftieth. Or to be on the list at all.

Yet there was one Gryffindor who was looking at him with Ravenclaw-like curiosity. Their eyes
met again for the second time in two days, and this time, she was the one that held the gaze. Her
head was cocked to the side and she was biting her lip like she was concentrating, trying to gauge
him. Harry recognized that expression.

*Studious. She's studying me*.

A soft voice interrupted his thoughts. "Harry?"

Tearing his gaze away from Hermione Granger's brown eyes, he turned to find Tracey's
blue ones. She followed his gaze, and spotted the Gryffindor table, though he doubted she saw who
he was actually looking at.

"Don't mind them," she said with a frown on her pretty face. "They're
just jealous that the best person they have in Third Year is Granger. Look at Weasley; he looks
like smoke is about to come out of his ears."

Ron Weasley *was* quite red, glaring at Harry as he stabbed his kidney pie repeatedly.
Harry could only smile at the ridiculous reaction, even going so far as to give the Weasley a small
wave. Obviously, he didn't wave back.

Tracey guffawed at Weasley's sour expression. Harry, for his part, didn't think much of
the second-youngest Weasley or most of the Gryffindors. He would have plenty of time to worry about
them later. For now, he was content to receive his class schedule for the semester. Tracey guffawed
when Harry waved. He turned away from the Gryffindor table, and they grinned at each other. Harry
would have plenty of time to worry about them later. For the time being, he was content to receive
his class schedule for the semester.

His first rotation for the week was Strategy class with Professor Wendell Trow, a shockingly
pale but effective teacher. Strategy was generally used for its namesake: Trow discussed strategies
and reviewed past duels. During a duel in Battle class, a converted set of Omnioculars recorded the
duels. The information was transported to a set of twenty matching Omnioculars that surrounded the
walls of Strategy class. There, students could watch not only their own duels but others as well,
replaying them from different angles and slowing them down to examine technique, skills, and
weaknesses.

Harry often visited Trow's class because any student could use the Stationary Omnioculars,
even if there was a class in session. In his free periods and after classes, Harry spent much time
poring over his own duels, trying to find ways to improve and critiquing himself as much as
possible.

In his First Year, Harry had found that he was too static in his duels, often moving only a few
feet in a small box as he engaged another student. It was only after looking over several duels
that he realized what a disadvantage it was to stay so still. After all, it was much more difficult
to hit a moving target than it was to hit something that only stayed in a certain area. There was
also the added advantage of not expending energy on countless *Protego* shields. Dodging a
spell meant conserving his own energy at the expense of his opponent's.

Of course, once others saw Harry starting to run around all over the place, they started copying
his movements, mimicking his highly active approach. Thus, Harry had to come up with a different
strategy, or more specifically, more specifically a set of spells that would counter such mobility.
Such was the life of Hogwarts Battle School, Harry realized. It was a constant game of adjustments
and fine-tuning as each student did as much as he or she could to outwit the others. There were
many students who weren't nearly as studious as Harry, though none as poor as Neville
Longbottom of Gryffindor.

Harry didn't bother asking Tracey or Blaise for their schedules, because everyone in his
year had the same schedule. It was just a matter of which House you were paired up with for each
class. Snape believed that unity within each year would help them not only improve each other, but
give them them an additional incentive when competing against other Houses for the House matches.
Then again, there were people like Malfoy who sought only to take the top of the list, taking out
anyone above him. Seeing as Harry and Granger were the only ones who scored higher than him, Harry
suspected that Draco would try at least one underhanded tactic over the course of the year.

*I have to keep an eye out*, he thought as he saw Draco laughing at something with his two
cronies, Crabbe and Goyle. Scanning down his schedule, Harry saw that he had Potions, a free
period, and then Battle class at the end of the day. A jolt of excitement ran through him at the
prospect of having Battle class on the first day of school. The schedules changed every two weeks
so that different Houses were always matched in the classes, though it was mostly for the benefit
of not being too comfortable facing a certain House all semester in Battle class.

Two loud beeps indicated that breakfast was over and classes were about to begin. According to
*Ho**gwarts: A History*, the school did not have a bell system before the educational
transformation, but Snape had insisted on it to keep a timely schedule. Rushing to gather his bag,
Harry jogged to Strategy class with the rest of his year. As it happened, the Gryffindors were
moving against the crowd to some other class for that period and they had to walk right at each
other.

There was nothing said, at first, but then someone stepped on Harry's foot, then a shove on
his shoulder, then another person bumped into him, then Ron Weasley decided to abandon all pretense
of subtlety and got a good push right into Harry's chest.

"Watch where you're going, Potter!"

"Apologies. I didn't realize I covered the entire hallway," Harry replied
blandly.

"With an ego as big as that, you might as well have."

"I'm sorry, Weasley, I'm sure he couldn't see your ugly mug over that
green-eyed monster jumping on your back," Blaise said with a smirk.

"Can't be jealous of a *cheater*," Ron hissed.

By that time, the Third Year Gryffindors and Slytherins had all stopped right outside of the
Great Hall, facing each other in what would have been an amusing show of bravado had they been
other Houses. Draco Malfoy leaned against a wall languidly with a practiced expression of boredom
on his face.

"I'm with Weasley. I think Potter did cheat to get that high on the list."

Internally, Harry was impressed by how Draco could easily manipulate these kinds of situations.
It was a two-pronged barb, one accusing Harry of foul play for being that high on the Master List,
and the other catching Weasley in a bind because Malfoy had just agreed with him. In merely two
sentences, he had managed to insult Harry and Weasley at the same time while maintaining the
dignity of his House.

"Battle class is at the end of the day…with us. We'll see who's cheating
then." It was Hermione Granger, stepping up to Ron's side with a blank expression on her
face. Her tone betrayed nothing, only stating the facts of the situation with ruthless objectivity.
For a moment, Harry wondered why she wasn't in Ravenclaw instead of Gryffindor.

"I hope I draw you, Potter." Ron smiled in what must have been a supposedly
intimidating manner; fortunately, Harry had seen the boy duel and thought very little of his
skills.

"Funnily enough, I hope I draw you too."

With an about face, Harry walked through the rest of the crowd to find Professor Wendell
Trow's classroom.

* * * * * * * * *

Trow coughed as he entered the room, wheezing slightly as he rubbed his hand through his
thinning, hawkish white hair. While the professor was only supposed to be in his mid-thirties, his
complexion aged him considerably. Despite his weak appearance, there was no doubt that Professor
Trow was very knowledgeable when it came to tactics and strategy.

"Welcome, Slytherins…Ravenclaws. I trust you all had a good summer? I know I got a little
sun myself, though I don't think you can see it that well…"

Laughter from the class brought a smile to Trow's pale face.

"Today, we will be focusing on large group movements. Though there are only ten of you in
each House, you can easily extrapolate this situation. Generally, the side with numbers will always
have the advantage, but if you are of equal numbers, what is the edge? Can anyone tell
me?"

"Skill," said Tracey.

"Strategy, obviously," announced Terry Boot, as if it were truly the most obvious
thing in the world.

"Unpredictability," Harry said.

Trow smiled at Harry's answer, coughing before asking, "Why do you say that, Mr.
Potter? Those were all good answers, of course, but your answer intrigues me."

"If there are two armies with equal strength, then there would be an appropriate average of
talent between them. If one is more skilled than the other, then that is an ingrained edge that one
army can't be overcome with equal numbers. But if both armies were equally talented and equally
numbered, then the advantage belongs to the army that does the unexpected."

"And do you know which House often does the unexpected?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer Slytherin but shut it when he realized that wasn't the best
answer. Slytherins weren't generally known for being unpredictable. Quite the contrary: they
were practiced, well rehearsed, and plotted everything to a point.

"Gryffindors," Harry said.

"Very good." Trow nodded. "Unexpectedness in battle is often associated with
brave and sometimes foolhardy. There aren't any Gryffindors here, so I won't slander them
for too long…hehe…but Mr. Potter does have a point. You have to keep your opponent off-guard, but
you also have to keep yourself restrained. Be too unpredictable, though, Mr. Potter, and you'll
find yourself with unexpected consequences."

Harry felt that he had just been rebuked, although Trow was genial in his tone. Indeed, a few of
the other Slytherins were looking at him strangely for having such a Gryffindor idea, but Harry had
said the first thing that came to his head. He resolved to be quieter for the rest of the class,
taking in potentially useful information instead of spouting things that would question his
commitment to Slytherin.

"I will show you a House match from a previous year, and you will tell me how Gryffindor
errs."

Trow levitated a large screen to the front of the classroom and then started the reel that would
play a House match. The robes of the two Houses showed that it was Hufflepuff versus Gryffindor.
Trow joked that he would not slander Gryffindor too much despite them losing to Hufflepuff in the
replay.

It wasn't as if there was no talent in Hufflepuff. There were plenty of standout academics,
but as a whole, Hufflepuff did not tend to inspire the same fear as other houses.

The House match was between the Fifth Years. Harry took out his quill and a piece of parchment
and jotted down some notes, but he kept his eyes glued to the screen as the match unfolded. It was
set in what looked to be a boggy marsh, though Snape often changed the environments and situations
during duels and House matches to keep students off-balance and challenge them with different
scenarios. The Gryffindors were sprinting through the marsh, divided into two teams as they fired
spells at anything that moved.

"As you can see," Trow said over the muted sound of the match, "the Gryffindors
have split up into two groups that are running a pincer movement along this river. What are they
trying to do?"

"Catch the Hufflepuffs in a crossfire," Tracey said immediately. Harry nudged her
knee, winking at her to tell her that he was impressed with her quick answer.

"Correct, Ms. Davis. I will be showing this from the Gryffindor perspective so you have an
idea of what they were facing. Now, the Gryffindors have encountered what looks to be a group of
Hufflepuffs behind this series of fallen logs. What do you think they should do?" Trow paused
the playback, looking at the class expectantly for answers.

"Logically, they should complete the pincer movement and converge on the Hufflepuffs from
both sides…but the Hufflepuffs should recognize this movement and try to rebuff them. Then it
becomes a matter of how well their defenses hold." Anthony Goldstein walked through the
process, revealing his Ravenclaw nature as he broke down the movement step by step.

"Correct again, Mr. Goldstein. So instead of completing the pincer movement, the Gryffindor
team on the left side of the bank aggressively pushes forward to try and flank the Hufflepuffs
behind their log defense. Thus is the nature of Gryffindor unpredictability. Can someone from each
House critique that movement?"

"It is a movement with a high risk-reward ratio," Lisa Turpin of Ravenclaw answered.
"The Gryffindors on the left bank break the shape of their attack and try to pincer from a
side they perceive as weak, but if the Hufflepuffs catch on, then the Hufflepuffs just have to go
back-to-back to face the Gryffindors. It all depends on whether the Hufflepuffs can see the
flanking maneuver."

"I think it's idiotic," Draco replied arrogantly. "Why would you risk
throwing away the match with something so pointless? If it were me, I would have just stuck with
the pincer movement and slowly closed them in. They are Hufflepuffs, after all; it's not like
they're going to break the defense."

*That's your limitation, Draco. You can't see past the obvious. Trow is trying to
teach us a lesson**,* *but you always think you have the answer already.* Harry kept
that thought to himself, though, as he studied the situation, trying to read what Trow was trying
to tell them. Unfortunately, Harry had to agree with Draco. The movement that had the highest
chance of succeeding and lowest chance of failure would be to stay with the pincer movement and
slowly whittle away the Hufflepuffs. What could Trow be trying to teach them?

"So, how many would stay with the pincer movement?" Trow asked.

Roughly three-quarters of the class raised their hands: almost all of the Slytherins and a
majority of the Ravenclaws. Unlike Tracey or Blaise, Harry didn't raise his hand. Tracey caught
this, and her hand wavered in uncertainty as it was raised, but she kept it up, not wanting to look
foolish.

"What are you thinking, Harry?" she asked quietly.

"There has to be a better way. *Unpredictability**.* What would be unpredictable
here?" Harry muttered to her.

The Gryffindors could come together in one formation and attack them straight? That would be
idiotic. The Hufflepuffs had a defensible location. Break into three groups, keeping two groups as
smaller pincers and having a smaller group try and flank? Yes, that could work. Perhaps that was
the answer.

"Any other answers?" Trow asked; Harry raised his hand; "Mr. Potter?"

"What about breaking into three groups? Two of them keep the pincer movement going while
one or two Gryffindors try to flank and take the Hufflepuffs. The pincers would be weaker and
unlikely to overwhelm the defending Hufflepuffs, but it would at least provide cover for the small
group that's flanking."

Harry saw a few Ravenclaws nod at the assessment, agreeing with his logic. Some of the
Slytherins, too, cocked their heads as they reexamined the screen, trying to visualize what Harry
had said.

"That would be a good maneuver, but is not an *unpredictable* maneuver. Of course, a
flanking tactic would be first in Hufflepuff's priorities as they defended their location.
There is a chance that maneuver would work, but the Hufflepuffs would still be expecting it to some
degree. Come on, class, what is *unpredictable*?"

But there was nothing unpredictable Gryffindor could do except immediately charge towards the
Hufflepuffs in a kamikaze attack. If they did that, though, they would easily get mowed down from
Hufflepuff's defensive location. Since one couldn't Apparate within Hogwarts, there was no
chance of flanking without being seen, either.

"Anyone?"

A few of the Ravenclaws opened their mouths, but they were apparently coming to the same
conclusion that Harry had reached. There was nothing truly unpredictable the Gryffindors could do
at that point that could win the match for them. It would just be a test of skills as they tried to
either outmaneuver or out-duel the Hufflepuffs.

"A lesson to be learned for this class: Do not take anything at face value when facing your
enemy. I said that Gryffindors were unpredictable and all of you took that notion and stuck with it
during the analysis. Still, Gryffindors are not the *only* ones that can be unpredictable. You
laughed in the beginning when you saw that the Gryffindors were defeated by the Hufflepuffs, but
you have fallen into the same trap."

He flicked his wand at the projector, and the match continued. The Gryffindors on the left side
of the marsh aggressively advanced to flank them the defending Hufflepuffs. As they moved, however,
the Gryffindors on the right side of the marsh were suddenly stunned and disarmed as a secondary
force of Hufflepuffs took them by surprise from behind. The Gryffindors were so busy rushing the
Hufflepuff target that they didn't notice the misdirection.

Once the smaller contingent of Hufflepuffs had taken out half of the Gryffindors, the others
holding down the fort easily matched the Gryffindor flanking maneuver, and, outnumbered, the
Gryffindors easily lost.

"What is unpredictable is doing something that *everyone* doesn't expect. You all
expected the Gryffindors to have the rash movement when it was the Hufflepuffs who actually devised
this trap." Trow's geniality suddenly dropped. He was sterner, his gray eyes passing over
the class. "Do not think that just because Hufflepuffs are known for being hardworking and
steadfast, they also do not have an ounce of strategy in them. One roll of analysis of a Hufflepuff
House Match of your choosing from all of you, due next week."

* * * * * * * * *

Potions was a simple redoing of a potion from the end of their last year. Harry did it in a
breeze, ignoring the blubbering mass that was Slughorn. Harry didn't know why Snape kept
Professor Horace Slughorn there, except for the purpose of the headmaster's own amusement. The
Potions professor was terrified of Snape, and it showed in every moment of the class as he rushed
around, trying to make sure everyone's potion was perfect.

Harry thought back to the House match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. Something Trow had said
caught his attention. *Don't take anything at face value*. Ironically enough, they were in
Potions with the Hufflepuffs. He looked around and tried imagine Ernie MacMillan or Justin
Finch-Fletchly performing such a maneuver, but he just couldn't do it. How deep-seated were his
perceived notions of the Hufflepuffs when he couldn't even imagine them carrying out such a
tactic if he hadn't ever really known them?

But he couldn't very well ask them right there in Potions to gauge how they would approach
such a situation. He knew their dueling capabilities well enough and he didn't doubt that he
could beat either of them. Ernie had a bad habit of going on the defensive too much, allowing
himself to be pushed into a corner. Justin simply didn't have good aim, going wildly off target
if he was under any pressure. But together? He didn't know.

They finished Potions, and Harry lounged with Tracey and Blaise during their free period. Blaise
was going on about buying things with all of his Galleons, and Tracey was admonishing him for being
so reckless with his proposed spending. Still, Harry kept thinking about the match, replaying it in
his head to see if he, too, would have fallen for the Hufflepuff trap. Scarily enough, Harry
thought he would have.

"Harry, stop thinking about it," Tracey commanded. "All you're doing is
constantly going over that match. Can you just stop for a moment to talk to us?"

"Sorry." Harry grinned sheepishly, knowing it would satisfy her for the time being.
"But—think about it. Wouldn't we *all* have fallen for the trap?"

"Harry," Blaise complained, "you have to stop obsessing over duels and matches
for just two seconds. You're killing me here. Come on, come up with ideas for spending all
these Galleons with me."

"What do you want, Blaise? A Firebolt?"

"A Firebolt would be nice." Blaise stared off into the distance with dramatic
wistfulness. "Too bad they don't let us play Quidditch anymore."

"Come on." Harry tried to bring them on topic once more. "Wouldn't we all
have fallen for it?"

"This is why you're first in our year and tenth overall. You're demented!"
Blaise exclaimed.

Harry ignored Blaise's protests. He knew that if his friend would just apply himself more,
he would be much higher than nineteenth on the Years list and potentially even higher on the Master
List, but all Blaise ever cared about was having fun and buying as many things as he could. He
turned to Tracey, who he knew he could trust to at least have some semblance of competitive
conversation.

"Trace? What do you think?"

She sighed, reluctant to be dragged into talking about the match. "I would have fallen for
it, yes."

"Doesn't that mean we should reassess our perceived notions of Hufflepuffs? What if we
face them in a House match and underestimate them in the same way?"

"Harry, be serious." Blaise decided to join in on that point. "These are
Hufflepuffs. *Hufflepuffs.* Can you imagine Ernie Macmillan, pimples and all, rushing into the
marsh to set up early and then flanking us?"

Truth be told, Harry could not. "I don't know. I think there's something to be said
for at least thinking about it, though."

Draco approached, flanked by his two cronies. "What's wrong, Potter? Scared of a bunch
of Hufflepuffs?"

"Malfoy, why are you here? It's a free period. There's a whole Common Room, and
there's also this novel idea of the rest of the castle," Blaise said.

"While I would love to listen to more of Potter's paranoid ramblings about Hufflepuffs,
that's not why I'm here." Draco smiled in that cold manner he'd probably perfected
by the time he was five. "I was wondering if I could ask Tracey to help me with some Charms. I
didn't quite finish my summer work." Draco gave her a big smile, making sure to puff out
his chest as he did.

There were warning signs here; Harry could see them. Deciding to intervene on her behalf, Harry
said, "You mean the charm to unlock doors? I know you had trouble with it, Draco, but it's
called *Alohomora.* Do you want it in syllables? *A-lo-ho-mo-ra.* Kind of…kind of like it
sounds!"

"Potter, leave the humor to Zabini. You're not as good at it as he is."

Blaise raised his eyebrows in genuine surprise. "I do believe that's a
compliment."

"Charms," Draco said firmly, the slightest bit of irritation finally showing.
"Will you help me with it, Tracey?"

"I doubt you need my help, Draco." Tracey looked at him suspiciously. Harry hoped that
she knew how slimy Draco really was.

"Well, it would only make sense to get Charms help from someone as charming as you."
Draco smiled at her again.

*Oh. He's flirting with her.*

"Draco, get out of here. I'd rather not spend the rest of my free period with
you," Harry said in a tired voice.

Draco smirked at him, and for the second time in as many days, Harry was met with that
I-know-something-you-don't-know face. Harry hoped that he would somehow draw Draco in Battle
class today.

"Well, I still need some help, and Charms is on Wednesday. Hope to see you before then,
Trace," Draco drawled as he left.

"*Trace*?!" Harry asked incredulously as soon as he was out of earshot.
"Since when does he call you Trace?"

"I don't know." Tracey fidgeted as she watched Draco disappear through the Common
Room door. "He's acting weird."

"Weird or in love?" Blaise teased.

Tracey blanched at the prospect, her blue eyes bulging. "No, thank you."

*Good**.*

The rest of the free period was Malfoy-free, thankfully, and so the rest of the Third Year
Slytherins came down from their dormitories as the two beeps signaling class was about to start
rang through the halls. Battle class was always held in the unique Room of Requirement. The room
would reshape to fit the user's needs, so Snape used it as an easy way to construct different
scenarios. Students could use it after classes - for training purposes only, and it had to be
monitored and approved by a teacher. There were rumors that Snape constantly kept a House-Elf
inside to make sure no one used it for anything but practice and classes.

They entered the portrait, the excitement palpable in the air: their first Battle class of the
year was about to begin. Inside the Room of Requirement, they were greeted with a large pit filled
with jagged rocks. The size of the arena held no clues as to whether Snape wanted a House match or
solo duels.

Snape's monotonous yet threatening voice ordered them to sit.

Chairs popped out of the air and the class hastened to seat, obeying the Headmaster's
directions. He strode to the front of the group, his hands clasped behind his back and his robe
billowing behind him. Snape looked down his hooked nose and surveyed them with a look of only
slight disdain. It was better than the look of disappointment that he usually had.

"This year will be your toughest year by far. You will learn spells that are not so easy as
a swish and a flick. I will challenge you with scenarios that extend beyond just one-on-ones and
pitting Houses against each other. You will have to think, you will have to act with speed and
confidence, and you will have to have no fear. Is that understood?"

A chorus of "Yes, sir" was the only answer they could give.

"Before we start formal lessons, I would like to take today to see if your skills have
rusted over the summer. Names will be drawn randomly so that you have no preparation as to whom you
will fight. Stand!"

The chairs disappeared, and the few students who didn't stand quickly enough toppled
over.

"Longbottom, up. It requires your feet, in case you've forgotten," Snape
drawled.

Several Slytherins snickered at this, and even Harry had to shake his head at the poor boy's
failures. He was still having trouble standing up when Hermione Granger took him by his arm and
heaved him to his feet, hissing something at him as she did so.

"So glad you could join us, Longbottom." Snape's icy tone showed his displeasure
at being delayed.

"I'm sorry, sir," Longbottom muttered meekly.

Snape snapped his fingers and a piece of parchment appeared in his hand. "Name!"

With an air of inevitability, Snape called the first name.

"Potter."

Harry walked towards the front of the class, right on the edge of the ridge that led towards the
pit. He turned around to face his classmates, feeling the rush of wind that the natural valley of
the pit produced. Locking eyes with Ron Weasley, Harry smiled at him. Weasley, for his part,
didn't look nearly as confident now that Harry's name had been drawn.

"Name!"

Another parchment appeared in Snape's hand**(',')** and from his seat behind the
Headmaster, Harry could easily see the name.

"Granger."

A quiet hush fell over the Gryffindors and Slytherins. They had never actually faced each other
out of pure luck during their first two years, even though they had finished as the top two
students in both years. To her credit, Granger didn't look intimidated or afraid by any margin
as she approached the ledge. There was a strange stillness to her, a confidence that Harry
couldn't quite place.

"The rest of the class, against the wall. Potter, Granger, start on opposing ledges and
begin on my mark."

Everyone else backed up towards a wall that had a stone barrier coming about chest high. They
could all line up and watch the duel from their raised position, and had no fears about stray
spells, as Snape's protection charms would block them from coming their way.

"I'll go to the other side," Harry offered.

Hermione shrugged. "If you want."

Harry had chosen the other side for more than chivalrous reasons. There was a larger rock that
jutted out at a height taller than him; he could easily fall back to it if he had to. Given the
natural cover, Harry was already devising a plan that he could use against Granger. From what he
had seen before, she didn't subscribe to his mobile approach, so he could use the natural cover
to block her spells and take potshots at her. Of course, there was more to it than that, but it
seemed that the environment suited him more than it suited her.

Standing on the ledge, Harry looked up to see Hermione on the other side, about fifty meters
away in total distance. To his right, up on the higher platform, the rest of his classmates looked
on. Snape stood away from them, closer to Granger than he was to Harry.

"Let's go, Harry!" Tracey suddenly shouted, inviting others to proclaim their
encouragement.

"Get him, Hermione! Show that Slytherin punk!"

"You got this, Potter!"

"I'm putting all five hundred Galleons on you, Harry!"

Blaise's statement brought a couple chuckles from the Slytherins and a grin to Harry's
face. Hermione smiled, but it wasn't at Blaise's comment. It seemed directed towards Harry.
He gave her a slight nod, an acknowledgement of their duel but she just kept on smiling. *What
does she know?*

Harry had once read a Muggle study about how, from an early age, girls were taught differently
than boys. Teachers didn't even consciously do this, but they adjusted for each sex. With
girls, they constantly drilled them about being proper and gave them encouragements and praise. In
contrast, boys were told to behave and that if they weren't good at something, it was because
they didn't try hard enough. People seemed to think that from an early age, girls were
generally smarter than boys.

The study proposed that if a group of boys and girls were given a difficult problem, one higher
than their grade level, girls would give up on it faster than the boys, even though they were
smarter. Girls, believing their talent was innate, gave up when they realized they couldn't do
it. Boys, taught that they could only improve by trying harder, kept working on the complex
problem. Harry had already seen this sort of behavior in Hogwarts' students. Girls, when
confronted with a spell they couldn't quite master, moved to another spell. Boys, on the other
hand, kept smashing their head against a wall until they perfected a spell.

Harry didn't know why this thought was occurring in his head seconds before Snape would
shoot the red sparks indicating they should begin, but he thought that his brain was subconsciously
trying to tell him something. It was only later he would realize that it was trying to tell him
that Hermione Granger learned differently from most girls.

"Begin," Snape ordered as he shot red sparks from his wand.

Harry jumped down from the ledge, his knees groaning as he landed on solid rock. Neither of them
had fired a spell as they situated and Harry took to the opportunity to look around himself from
the general safety of the jutting rock he had spotted earlier. All around him, the rocks were
clumepd up so he couldn't move freely. Jumping and sprinting and leaping across small chasms
would have to be involved, and again, Harry thought that would be to his advantage. He had no doubt
that he was more athletic than Granger.

But the rocks still weren't high enough to completely conceal him. At least, not all of them
were. This rock that jutted out could, but the others varied in shapes and sizes. Deciding it was
time to confront Granger, Harry peeked out and spotted Granger kneeling and performing some sort of
spell.

*"**Expelliarmus!"*

The shot flew over her head as she simply ducked to avoid it, almost ignoring the spell
altogether. She kept on enchanting some sort of spell on the ground and for a moment, Harry
wondered if she was making a weapon. Whatever the spell was, he couldn't allow her to continue.
Leaping onto a rock to gain some leverage, Harry cast another Disarming Charm.

This time, she moved, pausing her spellwork to confront him.

*"**Immobulus!"* she cast, moving to her left and ducking behind another
rock.

Harry jumped down, the blue spell whizzing over his head as he reset. Looking up, he saw that
she was still crouched down, waving her wand over and over again. Annoyed, he shot another
Disarming Charm at her, breaking her concentration and forcing her to produce a shield. They traded
spellfire once more before Hermione ducked behind another rock.

*She's hiding. She doesn't want to confront me out in the open**,* *so
she's trying to bait me closer to her.*

Harry knew he had the better aim and just needed good leverage to get a clean shot at her.
Grabbing hold of a square stone, Harry heaved it towards her left, causing her to jump at the
unexpected clash.

*"**Stupefy!"* Harry used the Stunning spell for authority, and Hermione
responded with another shield. Harry leapt diagonally, inching closer and closer to her.

*"**Expelliarmus**."* His aim was off that time, and he knew she would
strike back.

Instead of a Stunner or even an *Expelliarmus*, though, Hermione fired an odd spell: a
Jelly-Legs Jinx that he couldn't quite block. Her use of a First-Year spell annoyed him as he
wobbled off the rock and cast *Finite* on his legs to make it stop. Above him, he could hear
some of the Gryffindors laughing.

Harry looked up again, but couldn't find Granger. Deciding that he needed to disrupt her
fully to stop her from whatever spell she kept trying to cast, Harry aimed at the rock face.

*"**Bombarda!"*

The wall exploded, and he watched the rocks crumble downwards with grim satisfaction. She would
have to come out of hiding. Indeed, she sprinted out into the open and shot an unknown red spell
that he had to dodge. By the time he took another shot at her, she was already kneeling behind yet
another rock formation.

*This is frustrating.*

*Keep your patience, Potter.*

He knew that she was just trying to goad him into coming closer. Harry could try drawing her
out, but she seemed content to let him be the aggressor.

*"**Bombarda!"*

It caused Hermione to run again, but as before, she cast a spell at him as she broke cover,
distracting him just enough so she could escape to yet another defilade. It was then that he
realized she was using *his* strategy. He had hardly moved after the Jelly-Legs Jinx and
instead it was she that was using cover to dodge while he wasted valuable magical energy casting
powerful *Bombarda* hexes. Resolving to limit the number of spells he cast, Harry started
approaching her at an angle, leaping from boulder to boulder.

Predictably, she didn't come out for a little while, but she eventually got curious and
peeked her head out, firing a spell as he jumped from one rock to another. He dodged it easily and
rolled so that he was lying on his stomach behind another boulder. They were only about ten meters
from each other, and that was as close Harry was going to get. The duel had to be decided
there.

*"**Expelliarmus!**"*

*"**Protego!"*

She blocked the Disarming Charm easily and sprinted towards another granite block, but Harry
could see that she had made her grave mistake. The way they were positioned allowed Harry a clear
shot if she tried to sprint to her left or right towards another form of cover. The granite block
she was hiding behind was isolated on both sides.

*"**Expelliarmus! Bombarda!"*

He shot the two spells in swift succession, knowing he had her pinned. A crash of rocks fell
from the rock face and he heard a high-pitched yelp. Harry came out from behind his cover, his wand
up, approaching her slowly. She would have to come out, and he already had the bead on her.

*If she casts a spell, produce a shield and hex her on the rebound. If she tries to run, take
one good shot. If she tries to come out into the open and duel, overwhelm her*.

Harry broke down the several scenarios as he took one step after another, slowly closing in on
the isolated boulder. Hermione could go nowhere this time and her only choice would be to face him
head on and Harry was confident he had the advantage at that point. But then, she did
something…*unexpected*.

She jumped out, her arms exposed, and didn't fire a spell. Granger simply revealed herself
and then ducked behind the rock again. Harry shot a Disarming spell, missing as she retreated
behind the rock again and then he sprinted towards her in a wide semicircle, firing spell after
spell as he closed on her quickly.

*"**Stupefy! Stupefy! EXPELLIARMUS!"*

The last spell finally struck her. He saw it hit her cleanly and knock her further back behind
the boulder and out of his sight. Still, he approached the boulder slowly, his wand extended in
front of him. Harry came around the boulder to find…

...nothing.

"Hello, Harry," a feminine voice whispered in his ear. He felt the point of her wand
against his back.

*"**STUPEFY!**"*

* * * * * * * * *

**A/N: There was a bit of confusion over a poorly worded segment in the last chapter. To
refresh your memories, there are three lists. The overall Master List. The Years List,**
**which** **lists the rank of everyone in that year regardless of the house. And then the House
list, which lists the House in rank according to each year. I had it worded poorly that there was
only a Third-Year Slytherin list, when there is not. There is just the Years list instead that
lists all of the Third Years.**

**Anyways, what'd you think of the chapter? Initial thoughts on the characters?**

**As always, reviews are welcome and thank you for your great reception to this story. I have
high hopes for it.**
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3. Forging Steel
----------------

“To be fair, it was very clever.” Tracey sympathized.

That didn’t stop Draco Malfoy from repeating the story endlessly to everyone he could talk to,
even Hufflepuffs that didn’t particularly want to listen to him laughed at it. Hermione Granger had
not only succeeded in besting Harry in the duel, but she had also embarrassed him with the ease in
which she stunned him.

Harry would fume and grumble if he wasn’t so impressed by the intricate spell she had chosen to
cause a reflection of herself. Tracey told him that when he thought she sprinted behind the
boulder, that was actually the mirror image of her that she was creating the whole time. All she
had to do was wait until he exposed himself fully and she just walked up behind him to stun
him.

“We saw it coming and we wanted to yell out a warning at you, but by that time, Snape had cast a
sound barrier that didn’t let us say anything,” Tracey explained. “That was so…so…”

“…cunning of her,” Harry finished as they paced around the lake. Blaise was nearby, trying to
harass people to take on another bet after he had lost fifty Galleons to Ron Weasley of all people
when he had bet on Harry against Granger.

“I bet you’ve never held fifty Galleons in your life before, Weasley. Don’t bust out of your
pants when you touch it,” Blaise had sharply commented as he threw him the pouch with the fifty
Galleons after Battle class was over and everyone had dueled once.

Tracey had won against Dean Thomas, while Blaise had predictably lost against Draco. Still, the
talk of the class was how Hermione Granger, the Gryffindor Muggleborn, bested Harry Potter, now
currently twentieth on the Master List. While he did have to deal with some of the snide comments
on being beaten by Granger, not as many people were mad at him over this initial pre-year ranking
of tenth. They all seemed to conclude that it was just an aberration by the staff and he would be
out of the top fifty in no time.

“No one will take bets on you in a re-match,” Blaise grumbled. “You were my winning horse and
now you’ve gone and lost all of my action.”

“What’s horses got to do with it?” Harry asked.

“Racing horses? My Mum married a gambling Muggle once but then he died of some heart illness. I
think that’s is where I got this from. Anyways, you have to challenge her again.”

“To what? A practice duel? What would that prove?”

“That you’re *better*? Harry, we can’t have you losing to Granger of all people. She’s
first now on the Years List!”

“Blaise, why don’t you concentrate on your own ranking and less on mines? At this rate, you’re
going to be down near Longbottom.”

Blaise wrinkled his nose in disgust, his dark complexion twisting in horror. “I would never let
myself stoop so low.”

“Keep on slacking and you will.” Harry pointed out.

“I’m slacking?! You lost, Harry!”

“You lost too!”

“Boys,” Tracey said tiredly. “Can we just agree that I’m better than both of you?”

Harry and Blaise stopped in mid-step, staring at her with wide eyes. She smiled at them
innocently, batting her dark eyelashes, and said, “What?”

They leapt at her, tackling her to the ground, shrieking while they tickled her sides.

“Stop it! Stop it!” she yelled between giggles, “I give!”

Out of breath, Harry leant a hand to help her up. “Watch yourself, Davis. Next thing you know,
your head will be the size of Malfoy’s.”

“Speaking of which,” she frowned, “He asked me again to help him with his Charms homework. What
part of no does that boy not understand?”

“If his parents are anything like mines, they never said no,” Blaise said.”

Tracey nodded thoughtfully. “This is true. Same of mines.”

Harry stayed quiet, continuing the walk around the lake during their free period. Of course, he
had no input on what his parents would have said. Would they have told him no? He imagined they
would, but then again, Uncle Dursley always said no. It was when Harry said no that he would start
facing the consequences of the cupboard under the stair and the belt.

“Harry, are you even listening?” Blaise whined on.

“What is it this time?”

“I asked you what you thought about Daphne Greengrass. Trace doesn’t like her that much but I
reckon its because she’s got a bigger set of knockers than her.”

“Oh yes, that’s the only reason why.” Tracey rolled her eyes as she punched Blaise in the
shoulder.

“Those things need to have their own pair of Omnioculars on them.”

“Blaise, you fucking twat, stop that!” Tracey punched him again.

“Stationary ones too,” Harry quipped.

“Harry!”

“Sorry, Trace,” Harry said with an impish grin as they finished their lap around the lake.

“Perverts, the lot of you. Why is that I don’t hang around Daphne and Millicent more?”

“Because Millicent probably wants a piece of your pie and you’re jealous of Daphne’s impressive
set of…”

“Blaise. One more word. Please. Just say one more word,” Tracey warned.

“One more word of what?” asked another girl as she fell in step with them.

Pansy Parkinson was a strange character, snobbish most of the times but capable of being
friendly when put to the task. Though Harry often saw her hanging around, or more likely, hanging
on Draco, she was Tracey’s closest friend out of her dormitory.

“Blaise keeps going on about Daphne.”

“Oh? That whore? Blaise, you could do better than that.” Pansy snorted at Daphne’s name.

“Is that an offer?” Blaise grinned.

“Option’s always on the table.”

“Pansy, if you wanted to do it on the table, you just have to ask.”

“I would appreciate it if you two would just stop. There is too much innuendo flying around here
and I’m a little tired of imagining Blaise in various states of undress.” Tracey made a gagging
motion.

“Does your imagination fulfill your desires? You know what they say, once you go black, you
never…*OH NOOO…”*

Blaise keeled over, holding his groin as Tracey stepped back with a satisfied look on her face.
Harry and Pansy shook their heads as they stopped in the middle of the Hogwarts grounds to watch
Blaise writhe on the ground.

“Priceless…family…antiques…” Blaise managed to wheezed as he hunched over.

---------------

After an uneventful Charms class where they just did a quick overview of last year’s spells,
Harry departed for Trow’s classroom so he could finally review the duel on the Stationary
Omnioculars. Classes were already over and there were a few other kids in the room, most of them
Fifth Years and above. A couple Gryffindors, one being the dreadlocked Lee Jordan, snickered as he
walked by but he ignored it.

Taking a seat and pulling out a parchment and a quill, Harry pressed his face against the two
eye sockets and watched from the very beginning. The advantage of Stationary Omnioculars wasn’t
only that he could replay the entire duel. The Stationary Omnioculars also had multiple vantage
points so he could observe the duel from a variety of positions.

First, he focused on his side of the duel. He watched himself jump down from the ledge,
maneuvering his way around the rocks as he traded a few early spells with Granger. He reached the
point where Granger oddly fired the Jelly-Legs Jinx at him.

“Why would she do that?” Harry mumbled to himself as he wrote down, *Jelly-Legs?*

It was an obvious opportunity to hit him with a stronger spell since he was exposed on top of
the rock, but she had passed it up to hit him with a First-Year spell. While he could have easily
blocked a Stunner or an *Expelliarmus*, he didn’t expect that. Perhaps that’s why she chose
that particular spell, but how could she have known that he wouldn’t be able to block it?

*Telegraph spell?* He jotted down next, trying to see if there was any way he tipped off
his *Protego*. Yet, there was none that he could find. His arm was still down and he could
just have easily jumped out of the way instead of raising a shield, so how did she know he wouldn’t
be able to block a Jelly-Legs?

Continuing, Harry scowled as he watched himself try to use *Bombarda* to bring her out of
hiding. In retrospect, it was a poor decision as it played right into her hands of dodging from
cover to cover while he used valuable magical resources in simply trying to flush her out of
hiding. At least he recognized it at the time, something he thought gave him a slight advantage
over everyone except for Granger apparently.

*Don’t over extend yourself*, he wrote.

It was a mistake driven by pride and ego as he wanted Granger to come out for an open duel
instead of hiding and creeping along the rocks. Then again, Snape didn’t care about the fairness in
which someone duel.

*Win at all costs*, Harry scribbled.

But then he watched the last stanza of the duel as he crept around the boulder slowly. Zooming
in and watching it in slow motion, he confirmed that he did indeed hit the mirror image of Granger.
It was the illusion that she had fallen out of sight that did him in, though one could argue that
he was doomed as he soon as he thought that it was actually Granger behind that boulder and not
just an apparition of her.

He knew that his problem was being too aggressive, but he believed that being aggressive gave
him a slight edge when it came to duels. Aggression would let you control the tempo and pace of the
duel, but Granger must have expected it and lured him into a trap even after he had taken multiple
precautions.

Sighing, he changed the camera view so that he could watch it from Granger’s viewpoint this
time.

She jumped down and immediately placed her back against the wall and started chanting under her
breath and waving her wand at the ground. Granger did it continuously, ignoring Harry for all
purposes and focusing on her spell. Harry reasoned that this must be the spell she used to create
her doppelganger, but he couldn’t make out the incantation. *Could I ask her?* *Would she
even tell me?*

He hit forward and noticed that she didn’t seem to care what spell he cast. Every time he would
try and hit her with a spell, she automatically knew whether to duck or whether to bring up a
shield. And then, in that curious moment where she cast the Jelly-Legs Jinx, he could see that she
was specifically aiming for his legs, not even thinking of casting a Stunner.

*Advanced knowledge of my spells?*

It was practically impossible to predict a spell ahead of time unless she was incredibly gifted
in reading postures, but it was too hectic and Harry judged that he was moving too much for her to
be able to do such a thing. He had heard of Aurors and Hit Wizards that knew the spell as soon as a
wizard shifted his foot, but Hermione couldn’t be that good already. She was just a Third Year.

*And you were just a Third Year and made top ten on the Master List*, the voice in his head
countered. Still, the differences were incomparable.

Pressing forward, Harry watched as Granger finally completed a spell during the time frame where
he was trying to get closer to her without casting any spells. What he thought was just a chance
look was actually a predetermined shot as she raised her head and found him. Harry realized it was
a distraction, a way to force him out of sight so she could send her doppelganger running behind
the isolated boulder.

Harry chided himself for being so stupid for thinking that Granger would trap herself like that.
There was nothing to really force her into that direction and he had fallen for such an easy ploy.
True, it might have taken him a little while to figure out that there was a doppelganger, but
foolishly rushing forward was a reckless thing to do…a Gryffindor thing to do.

*You can be both*. It was a different voice in his head, one that belonged to the Sorting
Hat, but he forced it out, reminding himself that he was a Slytherin: cunning, ambitious, and
clever. He would beat Granger the second time around. He kept watching until the end, unwittingly
admiring not only her technique and approach but the way her bangs fell across her forehead as she
rushed forward when she approached him with her wand and stunned him at point blank range.

He leaned back, rubbing his eyes tiredly as watching replays through the Stationary Omnioculars
tended to wear on his eyes. There was a smidgen of dirt on his glasses so he rubbed it with his
shirt. As he placed the glasses back on the bridge of his nose, he noticed he was the only left in
Trow’s classroom.

“How long was I here?” Harry asked himself.

“It’s nearly supper time,” Trow answered from behind Harry.

Twisting in his seat, Harry turned around to see the pale professor collecting various bits of
parchment that were lying around the classroom.

“I’m sorry, Professor,” Harry apologized, “I’ll be out of your way soon.”

“Oh don’t mind me, Harry. Feel free to continue studying. These days, I’m used to your presence
here. You’re one of the most studious students I have. Not *the* most studious, but you’re up
there.”

“And who’s here more than I am?”

Professor Trow smiled, a faint red splotch on his pale cheeks, “Why its the person you’re
watching of course.”

“I don’t see her here right now.”

“She probably doesn’t have to watch a replay to know how she beat you.” Trow smiled knowingly
again.

Harry flushed on the inside, knowing that word must have gotten around the castle quickly if
Trow already knew about his defeat. “Excuse me, Professor, can I ask you a question?”

“Of course you can, Harry.”

“Is there any way for someone to know what you’re going to cast in advance? I mean, am I tipping
off my spells or anything?”

Trow squinted his eyes, drawing his white eyebrows together in a way that made them disappear on
his forehead. “Some Aurors and Hit Wizards have an innate talent for reading their opponents, but
if you’re asking if you have some sort of tell that gives away what spell you’re going to use, a
majority of people don’t. That’s just an exaggeration that Aurors use to inflate their own
prowess.”

“So there’s no way?”

“There is not a concrete way. Are you wondering how Ms. Granger knew what you were going to
cast?”

“I…how did you know that?” Harry frowned in confusion. Did Trow have a way of knowing what they
were watching?

“Word travels fast around the castle, Harry.” Trow winked at him. “But if you’re so curious as
to how she did it, why don’t you just ask the young woman herself?”

“I don’t think I can do that.”

“Come now, Harry. You must be brave enough to talk to a girl even if she bested you.”

“It’s not that,” Harry replied quickly, “It’s just that…”

“…the Houses,” Trow sighed. “A great and terrible invention at the same time. I can not
specifically tell you how she knew Harry, but my only advice would be to ask her. The worst she can
say is no.”

*The worst she could say is that I just wasn’t good enough.*

“Thank you, sir.”

----------------------------

Harry had a fitful sleep, filled with dreams of multiple Hermione Grangers dancing around him in
that same pit of jagged rocks. She kept chanting something that he couldn’t quite decipher and
every time he would try and curse her, another version of her just popped out of nowhere.

Food always replenished his rather low sugar levels in the morning and he hoped it would break
him out of his bad mood. As he approached the Slytherin table, he spotted Snape conversing quietly
with Mad-Eye Moody, leaning in and discussing something in private. He quickly averted his eyes,
however, knowing that it was just as likely that Moody’s magical eye was watching him.

Harry sat down across from Blaise and Tracey in his usual spot. Looking up, he found that
Tracey’s hair was in little ringlets that framed her heart-shaped face.

“Nice hair, Trace,” Harry complimented.

“Thanks.” She beamed at him.

“And the make-up too? Who are you trying to impress?” Harry asked as he stuffed a waffle in his
mouth.

“Draco, of course.”

Harry choked on the waffles slightly, forcing down a gulp of orange juice to wash it out. Tracey
was smiling deviously at him while Blaise gave a soft clap with his hands.

“Well played. I’m impressed,” Blaise nodded at her.

Tracey shrugged. “I have my moments.”

“Seriously though.” Harry wiped the residue waffle from his mouth with a napkin. “Why the get
up?”

Again, Tracey shrugged nonchalantly. “No reason.” With that, Harry dismissed it as another girly
frivolity.

“What’s on the schedule for today?” Harry asked.

“Creatures with the new professor with the Puffs. Transfiguration with the Griffs. Then Dueling
with the Claws. After that, free period,” Blaise answered.

“I don’t see why we have to bother with Creatures. Unless you’re going into that field, what’s
the point? Snape’s never thrown us anything like that at us so far,” Tracey said.

“So far being the key word. You have to be prepared, Tracey. We’re just Third Years. Who knows
what Snape’s going to put in the Room of Requirement as we go on,” Harry reminded her.

Curling an already curled strand of hair around her finger, Tracey sighed as she acknowledged
Harry’s point. Harry was about to speak again when a loud guffaw shattered his thoughts. Draco was
heaving a fit with some of the older Slytherins and Harry could hear a snippet of his
conversation.

“…and then the Mudblood just walks up behind him and stuns him in the back! You should have seen
the look on Potter’s face!”

As if by chance, though Harry knew it wasn’t by chance as Draco had purposely raised his voice
so he could hear, the blond boy turned towards Harry with a practiced smile on his ever pristine
face.

“Slipping down the list, Potter!” Draco pointed at the black banner with gold writing.

Indeed, the magically changing list had already dropped Harry another three spots to
twenty-third. Scanning down, Harry spotted Hermione Granger at seventy-seventh. No one quite knew
how the teachers calculated the rankings, but it had to be on some sort of numeric grading system
that rewarded points based on very different measures including the difficulty of your opponent.
Otherwise, everyone in his year would just pick on poor Neville Longbottom.

“Hey, Draco. Where are you on the list?” Blaise innocently asked.

That dropped the smile off Draco’s face.

“Just got to knock him down a peg, Harry. There’s nothing a Malfoy hates more than being shown
that he’s less than what he thinks he is. That and having more money than them,” Blaise added as an
afterthought.

Another round of raucous laughter diverted Harry’s attention towards the Gryffindor table as
Weasley and Seamus Finnegan reenacted Harry’s defeat. He spotted Granger shaking her head at the
affair, but the small smile that crept on her face betrayed her faux disapproval at the dramatic
show.

“Ignore them, Harry,” Tracey said firmly.

“I’m ignoring them.” *Just like I’ll remember each and every one of them*.

The migration out of breakfast this time was uneventful as the Gryffindors were headed in an
opposite direction. Predictably, the Hufflepuffs let the Slytherin group past first into the
Creatures classroom and Harry suppressed an eye roll at their politeness. Despite that, he reminded
himself of Trow’s lesson and his own subsequent defeat at the hands of Granger. It wasn’t good to
underestimate an opponent, no matter how easy the task may look. *Don’t take anything at face
value*, Trow’s words ringed in Harry’s ears.

“Take a seat, take a seat!” The drab professor waved them all in as they filed into two distinct
groups, the Hufflepuffs on the right side of the classroom and the Slytherins on the left.

“Ouch, watch it, Trace!” Blaise complained as Tracey flopped into the seat next to Harry.

“I want the front seat,” Tracey explained. “You’re not going to be listening anyways.”

“Didn’t have to bowl me over for it,” Blaise muttered as he sat behind them with Pansy.

Harry leaned over and whispered, “He really isn’t anyways.”

“He never does.” Tracey rolled her eyes and Harry appreciated how starkly blue they were.

“Welcome everyone to Creatures. I’m Professor Lupin and hopefully I’ll be here longer than your
previous teacher.” The Hufflepuffs chuckled at this while the Slytherins simply continued to
listen.

“Well.” Lupin coughed to clear his throat. “Let’s not delay this with a review of last year. I’m
sure you’re all eager to move on. Can anyone tell me the characteristics of a werewolf?”

“They turn into werewolves under a full moon,” Ernie MacMillan answered.

“Ingenious, MacMillan,” Draco drawled from the back of the classroom, drawing a couple chuckles
at the expense of the pimpled Hufflepuff.

“Ingenious and correct it is.” Lupin smiled without skipping a beat. “Anything else?”

“They tend to favor raw meat. In general, they’re loners because they don’t want to be
discovered by other people or else they live in a pack with other werewolves. They are also often
ill around the time of the full moon. The only known potion to prevent them from losing all control
is the Wolfsbane potion,” Blaise listed off several facts, counting them with his fingers. Not well
known for participating in class, Blaise shrugged as he spotted the curious glances his way.

“What? I thought my Mum’s third husband was a werewolf. I figured I’d know the facts. As it
turns out, he wasn‘t. Silver didn‘t kill him but some sort of lung failure did.”

Professor Lupin chuckled, his worn clothes shifting around his body as he did. “But Mr. Zabini
is indeed correct on all counts. Werewolves differ from regular wolves, of course, but it would be
easy to tell the difference if you ever see one up close. I don’t think you’ll need a textbook for
that. But is there anything else?”

“Well, werewolves are different from Animagus in that they can’t help and transform, but the
curse doesn’t generally pass along with children. Not that I know a lot of werewolves that have
children, mind you,” Blaise continued to add.

“Anyone *besides* Mr. Zabini?”

But no one had anything else to add as Lupin paced around the classroom with his hands behind
his back. Harry idly wondered if all teachers practiced that particular walking style, covering the
ground with long strides with their hands behind their backs. Creatures was already boring him,
even if it was a slightly more intriguing topic like werewolves. *Wait until we get back to the
worms*.

“No one? What if I told you there was a werewolf in this room?”

Harry’s head immediately snapped up. *Now this is interesting*. He shifted his eyes around
the classroom, briefly meeting Tracey, who could only give him an amused look.

“Not me, Trace.” Harry grinned at her.

“I know that, you idiot.” Still, Tracey nervously looked around the classroom, twirling her hair
like she did whenever she was on edge.

But Harry already knew that it wasn’t likely someone in the classroom. After three years, he
would have figured to find any distinguishable werewolf patterns even if he didn’t speak to
Hufflepuffs on a regular basis. It certainly wasn’t any of the Slytherins as they would be
immediately figured out based on illness around the full moon. And none of the Hufflepuffs really
fit the bill either.

*Don’t take anything at face value*.

And then Harry grinned as he figured it out.

“Any guesses as to who it may be?” Lupin continued to innocently posture.

The rest of the students were also shifting uncomfortably in their seats as they tried not to
accusingly look at each other. Everyone except for Draco, who had pushed his chair so far back to
survey everyone that he couldn’t even reach his desk with his arms outstretched.

“Mr. Potter? It seems you’ve figured it out.” Lupin approached him.

“Well. I think it’s you, sir,” Harry replied.

Tracey gasped next to him and he felt a fit of annoyance at her. He didn’t often get annoyed by
her, but why should she have that sort of reaction? He was just a werewolf and obviously wasn’t
salivating at the mouth or attacking anyone in the moment. Still, she pressed herself away from
Lupin and closer to Harry until he could smell the potions in her hair.

“No need to be alarmed, Ms. Davis. Obviously, there’s no fur on my body right now.” Professor
Lupin smiled but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I’m leaving,” Draco stood up, hastily gathering his things.

“No you are not, Mr. Malfoy,” Lupin dropped the smile and his tone turned cold and Harry swore
he could detect the smallest growl in the back of his throat.

Draco paled at the command, his hands stopping in mid-air as he fought the urge to run. In part,
Harry was amused by Draco’s reaction. There was always a lot of talk with him, and that was what
Draco was skilled at. In the face of a werewolf though, Draco seemed to shrink like so many of his
classmates. He sat back down hesitantly, keeping both eyes plastered on the graying head of
Professor Lupin.

“I’ve been told that many of you think this class is a joke, but I assure you that Headmaster
Snape wouldn’t include it if it wasn’t. Now you know that your teacher is a werewolf. Creatures can
be dangerous, but they can also be benign. It’s in how you perceive them and react to them. Much
like you have to judge your opponents, you also have to judge the level of danger from a creature.
Do I look dangerous to you?” Lupin rhetorically asked, his voice louder and filled with a stronger
tenor.

The class was silent except for the anxiety-ridden movements. Susan Bones’ leg was bouncing up
and down faster than a metronome while Theodore Nott kept cracking his knuckles over and over
again. Tracey’s hair was starting to lose its ringlets shape as she kept twisting it around her
finger. Harry gently touched her elbow and she jumped.

“It’s okay. He’s not a werewolf right now.”

Tracey nervously tittered. “Tell me that in a couple of weeks.”

“Judging from your looks when I entered, none of you really thought much of me and my rather
shabby clothes. I assure you that I’m perfectly nice and that I *don’t* bite most of the time.
But this is a wake up call for all of you that thought you weren’t going to take this class as
seriously as the rest of your studies. Creatures are dangerous and you need to understand
them.”

Lupin walked to the front of the classroom and pointed his wand so that the white screen fell
down and a projector magically whizzed its gears and displayed an image of a werewolf crouched over
a bloody body.

“Welcome to Creatures.”

---------------------------

Word had reached to the rest of the school that Professor Lupin was a werewolf and Harry was
disgruntled at the mostly negative reactions they had. Professor Flitwick was half-goblin, but no
one was ever afraid of him or thought he was going to steal their Galleons in the middle of the
night. But he kept it to himself, knowing that it would be a long crusade and lots of
head-bash-wall to explain to people why Lupin wasn’t dangerous when he wasn’t a werewolf. Besides,
Headmaster Snape already knew and Snape was coldly calculating. He was letting Lupin teach
Creatures for a reason.

Blaise, interestingly enough, was fascinated by Lupin’s lycanthropy. “Do you think he eats all
of his meat raw? Or does he like it cooked when he’s a human? What about his clothes? Do you think
that’s why he has a bunch of shabby clothes? In case he turns to a wolf and he doesn’t have his
‘wolf clothes’ on.”

“I’m sure Lupin doesn’t carry around *wolf clothes*,” Harry answered.

“Harry,” Blaise said in a skeptical tone, “Think if you were a wolf. Say you were turning into a
wolf that night. Would you really want your best pair of trousers on? And you, Tracey. Would you
really want your fanciest knickers on?”

“My knickers are none of your concern, Blaise.”

“Point still stands.” Blaise gestured as they turned the corner to reach the Dueling
classroom.

Transfiguration was a boring affair as Professor McGonagall went out of her way to sap any
horsing around. She was particularly mean to the Slytherins, except interestingly enough, to Harry.
While she still wasn’t nice to him by any stretch, her face softened and her verbal blows didn’t
land nearly as hard when she scolded him for a mistaken Transfiguration.

Harry had done his best to sit as far away from Granger as possible in that class and Tracey,
thankfully, offered to be a buffer. Draco, apparently recovered from his run-in with Lupin, took
the time for some choice comments, but for once, McGonagall’s strictness was to Harry’s benefit.
Even Malfoy kept the snide to a minimum around her. Harry thought McGonagall was almost unhappy to
be teaching at Hogwarts by the way she acted.

Mad-Eye Moody, as they called him from his rebellious Auror days, was sitting down with his
staff perched on his side. He was looking at each student as they entered but his magical eye was
skimming over a paper on his desk. Harry took a seat near the front, per usual, and this time,
Blaise beat Tracey to the punch to sit beside him.

Harry didn’t really mind who sat next to him, but for some reason, Tracey gave a disappointed
glare at Blaise as she passed by.

“What?” Blaise scoffed. “I’m tired of sitting next to Pansy.”

Instead, Tracey sat with Nott this period.

While Dueling wasn’t as active as Battle class, Moody still had a more hands-on approach when it
came to things. In this class, Harry usually learned spells instead of actually enacting them.
Moody would usually have the perform spells on each other to see their effects and ensure that they
could cast it. Sometimes, they would duel to show examples of how they could be used within a
match.

“Alright, you ingrates. Let’s start.” Moody grumbled as he hoisted himself up with the magical
staff that doubled as his wand.

“Snape wants me to teach you some more spells, but let’s do something else today. I know you got
your silly spells and incantations, but most wizards and witches don’t even say nothing when they
cast a spell. I’m sure most of you with wizard parents know that they don’t run around saying
*Expelliarmus* or *Evanesco*. In time, it will come natural to you, but I figured you
better learn it now.”

“Let’s start with something simple.” Moody pointed his wand at Harry and a sharp sting on his
hand immediately followed.

“A Stinging Hex. Don’t hurt that much, just feels like a bite. Now, DON’T say the hex out loud.
Don’t even think about it. Don’t think about the word at all. Just concentrate on what it does and
giving your friend a sharp poke. Everyone pair up!” Moody barked, stomping his staff on the
ground.

Harry naturally paired with Blaise and they stood facing each other. Blaise grinned and said,
“I’ll go first.”

Furrowing his dark eyebrows, Blaise scrunched his face and pointed his wand at Harry’s hand, but
unlike with Moody, he felt nothing.

“You look constipated.”

“Shut up, let me try again.” Blaise wiped his hands down on his robes like it would do anything.
Sometimes, Harry marveled at how basic his friend was.

Nothing.

“Let me?” Harry raised his wand in a question.

“Go ahead,” Blaise sighed in resignation.

Harry pointed his wand and concentrated on the feeling of the Stinging Hex against his skin. He
knew it worked when Blaise suddenly jumped, dropping his wand and clutching his hand to his
chest.

“Oh you…you…son of a…ow…”

“Good, Potter!” Moody barked as he limped around the classroom on his wooden leg. “Come on,
Zabini. Let’s see it.”

Blaise huffed and picked up his wand off the ground to try again. Pointing his wand adopting a
wider stance, Blaise even gave the wand a flick but again nothing happened. Yelping, Blaise dropped
his wand again as Moody hit him with a wordless Stinging Hex this time.

“Let that be incentive to get it right,” Moody growled. “Again!”

“Alright!” Blaise yelled back, knowing he could do that only with Moody. The grizzled ex-Auror
wasn’t one for standard convention when it came to being a professor.

Blaise didn’t hesitate this time, slashing down with his wand and this time, Harry felt the
sting of the hex even though it wasn’t strong enough to force him to drop his wand like he did to
Blaise.

“Better.” Moody said in a one word congratulations. He limped around then and moved on to yell
at some Ravenclaws that just couldn’t get it right.

“Merlin, I hate him,” Blaise grumbled as Moody faded away.

“I HEARD THAT, ZABINI.”

----------------

Harry used the free period to once again head to Trow’s classroom, weakly fending off Tracey’s
protestations that he should relax. He wouldn’t relax until he found out how Granger knew what
spells he was going to cast. If he had to review matches from his Second Year. He would do it.
Granger must have found something that tipped her off.

Trow wasn’t surprise when he entered the classroom and he gave the pale professor a slight nod
before sitting down in front of the Stationary Omnioculars and flipping out the same parchment with
hasty notes again. He watched three matches of his own but found nothing that could have informed
Granger of what spell he was about to cast.

After a couple hours of frustration, Harry pulled back from the Stationary Omnioculars to find
that the classroom was empty save for Professor Trow again. Trow was busy at his desk, presumably
grading papers and such. Harry had half a mind to ask the professor again if there were any
possible indicators, but the white-haired man had been adamant about the exaggeration of tells.

The door opened and inside stepped the girl in question, her backpack slung around her shoulder.
She greeted Professor Trow and walked towards the rows of Stationary Omnioculars and spotted Harry
sitting down at one. There was a falter in her walk as she apparently decided to use a different
Omniocular. The only form of acknowledgement from her was another small nod of the head.

*I have to ask her. I have to know.*

“Granger,” Harry called out. “Can I ask you something?”

She dropped her bag in front of a station and looked at him expectantly. *Not the most
courteous, this one.*

“How’d you know?”

“That I was going to beat you?”

Her cockiness threw him off balance. “No,” Harry drew out the word, “How’d you know what spells
I was going to cast.”

She shrugged, sitting down so he could only see the top of her head. “It’s rather obvious,
Potter.”

“Obvious. How?” Once again, he was struck by how Ravenclaw she was. Did the House offer her two
choices like it did to him?

“Just keep looking. It’s right in front of your face,” she answered, already burying her face
into the eye sockets of the Omnioculars so all he could see was the bushy mass of hair surrounding
it.

Two hours and a missed dinner later, Harry still did not see it.

--------------------------

“How is he progressing?”

“Reacted well to the placement on the Master List and his peers reacted accordingly.”

“I noticed that he did not confront you about the placement. Does he just not want to know or
does he believe he really is tenth?”

“It wouldn’t surprise me either way. There is a bit of arrogance about it, but he’s aware of it.
The drawings for his first Battle class weren’t random as I wanted to test him against a subject he
hadn’t dueled against.”

“And he lost.”

“An aberration. The Muggle-born used an advanced spell that’s above their learning grade.”

“Are you saying that he can’t make adjustments to unknown spells? Perhaps we should scale back
the level of difficulty for this.”

“No. I’m saying that faced with the same duel again, he would win. He is already obsessing over
how to beat the Muggle-born during their next duel.”

“And do you intend to pit them against each other soon?”

“No. It’s best to keep a confusing array at him so he learns to adjust on the fly. If we align
him with expectations, the adjustments will be too easy.”

“So what next?”

“Group movements and his ability to lead. I believe he has made great progress since the First
Year.”

“His First Year was a disaster.”

“It wasn’t a disaster. While there was some naiveté, he showed a lack of fear that was
promising.”

“I still think that you are pushing too much on him. What if he isn’t ready?”

“These are my decisions to make. The progress must be accelerated.”

“He shows great promise, but he is still raw. Still learning. You ask too much of him from the
beginning by placing him so high on the Master List. Let him learn.”

“He will learn faster this way. He will learn while fending off others. It is better this way
than to walk him slowly. He is already fearless but it is unchecked, unbalanced. He needs to start
thinking diagonally instead of laterally. If he is presented with tasks that seem impossible, he
will rise faster than if he simply achieved medium-level goals.”

“I hope you’re right in that.”

“I am right. You forge solid steel by dipping it into the fire, not by slowly bending it until
its straight.”

“And if the fire burns him?”

“Then we will just try again.”

-----------------

**A/N: Any guesses as to how Hermione knows? There were a few people wondering about Sirius and
while he does make an appearance later in the story, his escape out of Azkaban isn’t going to be a
central storyline in this one. As always, reviews are welcome.**



4. The Fog of War
-----------------



Two weeks passed without any significant events. Harry remained static on the Master List, an
embarrassingly easy victory over Neville Longbottom not really having any impact on upward
migration. From time to time, he would catch Hermione Granger looking over at him but he
steadfastly avoided her gaze. Ever since her subtle hint of her ability to accurately predict his
spells, he had avoided all eye contact with her.

The first thought that came into his mind was Legilimency.

It was almost preposterous to think that a simple Third Year would be capable of having such
advanced skill at the rare art. Raging hormones not withstanding, it was difficult for adult
wizards to master the art of Legilimency and subsequently Occlumency. To suppose that Hermione
Granger could do it was near ridiculous, but Harry couldn't afford to ignore the impossible.
After researching the spell in what he assumed was the secrecy of the library, he had avoided eye
contact with her with devout stubbornness.

After a while, and extensive research, he concluded that there was about as much chance of
Hermione Granger knowing Legilimency as there was his parents miraculously being alive after being
killed by Lord Voldemort. While he didn't actively avoid her gaze anymore, he still made an
attempt to avoid long eye contact with her. There was a small voice in his head that told him he
was avoiding eye contact with her for other reasons, but that voice was usually driven by
tumultuous hormones. He mistrusted it greatly.

While there was no evidence to suspect foul play, Harry was sure that Hermione had gained some
sort of advantage prior to their battle. After reviewing several of her previous dueling sessions,
he found her technique lacking and most importantly, recognized an inability to think on her feet.
It was somewhere in Second Year when she started dominating the competition, moving with an
assuredness that impressed him. Even more damning was the fact that she had that same recognition
of spells some time during that Second Year run.

As he watched Hermione dispatch Ernie MacMillan with relative ease during a replay of her torrid
streak during Second Year, he realized that she could accurately predict his spells too. MacMillan
had a tendency to shoot high, which Harry contributed to jumpy nerves, and Hermione must have
realized the same thing because she would just duck to avoid his spells instead of bringing up a
Protego. Yet, when his aim was true, she always produced the right combination of either dodging or
procuring a shield to minimize her magical energy sap.

In short, she was ruthlessly efficient.

But how did she do it? That was the five hundred Galleon question and Harry suspected that not
even Blaise could answer it.

“Why am I so pale?” Blaise asked as he flopped down on the green couch that Harry was also
sitting in.

“Blaise, honestly? All the girls are jealous over your skin. The rest of us look so blotchy and
sickly. People are going to start thinking we're Hufflepuffs.” Tracey complained, examining her
own rather pale arms.

“You're too pretty to be a Hufflepuff,” Harry commented off-handedly, scribbling down his
notes of a Hufflepuff match from 1984 for Trow's class.

A flush crept over Tracey's porcelain neck, but Harry missed it, too focused on Trow's
assignment to notice. Tomorrow would mark the first day that they would rotate to classes with
another House and seeing as how it was Ravenclaws, it would make Battle class a little
different.

Gryffindors had a tendency to find ways to win but that was through sheer persistence more than
anything else. Stubborn to a fault, they tended to try and bash their opponents over the head with
one spell over and over. While Harry perceived the tactic as hopelessly naïve, it did have the
added side-effect of perfecting a particular spell. Since most of the Gryffindors stuck to the
tried high and true calling of heedlessly rushing into battle, all that was usually required was a
bite of guile and remaining calm during their sound of fury.

Unless it was Hermione Granger of course.

Again, Harry marveled at how Ravenclaw she was because that's how Ravenclaws fought. While
Gryffindors patented the art of reckless abandonment, Ravenclaws were patient and thorough,
preferring to whittle their opponents down with an array of spells they had probably meticulously
researched. To counter-act that, Harry had to aggressively attack them and prevent them from
creating too much momentum. He used their greatest strength as their greatest weakness. The more
Harry threw at them, the more likely it was that they would buckle. While their great minds were
usually a help to them when it came to methodical research, they were also prone to over-think in
the heat of the battle. Thus, that momentary lapse in thought allowed the opening Harry would need
to strike.

Then there were the Hufflepuffs, a House that Harry found intriguingly interesting. Predictably,
their most prevalent trait during Battle class was their honesty and earnest. While he had seen
other Houses in replays resort to under handed tactics (a Gryffindor, of all Houses, cleverly threw
sand in her opponent's faces when the setting was right), Hufflepuffs rarely sunk to that
level. Instead, it was their refusal to give up that was their calling card. True, most Hufflepuffs
weren't as talented when it came to raw magic as the other Houses, but their never-say-die
attitude often led to strange victories.

The Battle that Harry watched from 1984 was versus Slytherin. The two Fourth Year Houses took on
one another in a forest setting that included a hedge maze and a cluster of trees on each side of
the hedge. The result was a House match that was often decided on split second instincts.
Naturally, the Slytherins were more adept at setting traps and ensnaring the Hufflepuffs through
subterfuge, but the Hufflepuffs caught on after several of their House mates had fallen to the
nefarious traps.

They dug in and it was the Slytherins who had to wander through the hedge and the forests to
find Hufflepuffs. Eventually they grew tired and impatient and Harry could only reason that it was
their self-belief that they were better than the Hufflepuffs that got the better of them. They grew
arrogant and started wandering out unguarded, thinking they could defeat the Hufflepuffs in open
battle and that exposing their selves and covering more ground was the best way to defeat them. Of
course, they lost as the Hufflepuffs literally dug themselves into the ground, camouflaging their
bodies in such a way that the Slytherins could barely identify where the spells were coming from.
Yes, the Slytherins were more skilled but it was their arrogance that once again lost the
battle.

*Do not underestimate Hufflepuff*.

Harry underlined the note and looked up to see his two friends arguing about something inane
again.

“Blaise, what part of Daphne wants nothing to do with you do you not get? She said it herself in
the dorm. She thinks you're a pompous asshole that's just two head sizes shorter than
Draco!” Tracey argued.

“Let it be known that that's the only area I'm two sizes shorter than Draco.” Blaise
waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively and Tracey's face blanched.

*Attack the Ravenclaw*. Harry scribbled, only mildly paying attention to his two
friends.

*Trap the Gryffindor*. That covered all three Houses, but there was one more House that he
would have to plan against.

“Harry. Earth to Harry? Helloooooo.” Blaise snapped his fingers in Harry's face and Harry
brushed them off with a laugh.

“What?”

“Have you been listening at all? Do you think I have a chance with Daphne?”

“Wouldn't hurt to try.” Harry shrugged.

“It would hurt actually. She's a known kicker and puncher,” Tracey warned. Pivoting to
Harry, she asked, “What's got you so lost in the clouds again, anyways? Don't tell me
it's this Hufflepuff match that you keep thinking about.”

Harry decided to answer her question with one of his own. “What's your greatest
weakness?”

Tracey flustered, as Harry could always tell. She would still stare straight forward and deliver
a response as if she wasn't caught off-guard, but he could always tell by the way she played
with the ends of her curly hair and the fact that she blinked so much that her eyes looked like
they were fluttering.

“What...what do you mean?”

“It's a rather simple question, Tracey. You do know the definition of weakness don't
you?” Blaise mocked.

“Yes,” she snapped. Tracey hated it when others tried to make her look vapid. “In terms of
what?”

Harry shrugged again, interested with her open response. “Anything. Go on.”

“I don't know. I guess I can be a little...pushy?”

“And how do you think that translates into duels?”

“Harry.” Tracey and Blaise both groaned his name, realizing the intent behind his
interrogation.

“No! No! Listen to me and think it out. How does your perceived pushiness pour over to your
dueling skills?”

Tracey bit her lip and continued to twirl that curly strand of hair as she looked off into the
distance, her bright, blue eyes shifting around in her eye sockets. “I think that sometimes I try
the same thing over and over again even when it's not working.”

“Very good. I noticed the same thing.”

“You did?” Tracey was clearly surprised.

“Yes, of course. Neither of you are ever prepared enough by the way.”

“I'm sorry I don't devote all of my time to sticking my head into those Stationaries and
watching match after match like some obsessed goblin. Really, Harry, you're already that high
on the Master List. How about you give some of us a break?”

“How about you try harder, Blaise? You and I both know you could do better if you just put some
effort into it.”

“I get by on raw skill. Any more and I won't have time to practice my other arts.”

“And what other arts are that?”

“This art.” Blaise stood up and proceeded to stalk Daphne Greengrass as she left the Slytherin
Common Room.

“I hope he gets kicked in the balls again,” Tracey crassly said.

“If he applied half as much effort into reviewing his dueling technique, he would be higher up
the list too.”

“Not everyone's as obsessed about it as you are, Harry.”

“I'm not obsessed!”

“All you do is watch match after match. Duel after duel. How about you give it a rest and take a
walk with me?” Tracey asked, her blue eyes holding a hint of pleading.

Harry did already have the necessary scrolls to submit to Trow, more than needed actually. The
rest of his schedule looked to be pretty empty so he rolled up the parchment and stood up with a
definitive grin. Extending a hand out to Tracey, he smiled and said, “Let's take a walk
then.”

She happily took his hand, her hand lingering ever so slightly as he let go, but Harry
didn't seem to notice. As they left through the secret passageway behind the wall, neither of
them noticed the pale gray eyes following them out.

The class with Trow proved to be a lambasting of everyone who didn't take the assignment
seriously. Truth be told, more than a few Slytherins had done the minimal amount of work necessary
when it came to analyzing a Hufflepuff match and Harry didn't doubt that the same few thought
the Hufflepuff study was beneath them. Trow didn't seem to think so as his pale, blotchy skin
filled up with a red hue as he aggressively asked question after question to the same few students.
Draco, surprisingly, was not among them. He had written a report that was about half of Harry's
size, but still well above the minimum threshold. Unfortunately, Blaise had predictably slacked off
on the work and found himself in the midst of a battle of witty repartee with Trow.

“Why do you think the Hufflepuffs succeeded, Zabini?”

“They bored the Ravenclaws to submission?”

Needless to say, Trow was none too pleased and assigned them even more homework, this time
ordering them to watch a Ravenclaw match. Draco complained loudly but like usual, he was all bark
and no bite. They had that class with the Gryffindors and Harry had to ignore some snickers and
jibes from the likes of Ron Weasley and the rest of his entourage. Harry also avoided eye contact
with Hermione Granger again though he distinctly felt a pair of eyes watching him from the other
side of the classroom where the Gryffindors sat.

As class was dismissed, Harry lingered behind to talk with Trow about the Ravenclaw match they
had just watched, and to his surprise, Tracey stayed behind too. Trow was explaining the advantages
of splitting the larger group up when the herd of Gryffindors walked by, jostling Harry as they
did.

“So they split into half? Or half of a half?” Tracey asked about the movement.

“In some circles, they call that a quarter,” Hermione Granger piped up as she walked by.

The Gryffindors guffawed at this and Tracey burned in embarrassment, opening her mouth to retort
but finding nothing to say in front of Trow. Harry turned around to tell Granger to shove off, but
she was already gone, her body cradling a stack of books as Weasley and his compatriots continued
to laugh at Granger's snideness.

*Not the nicest one, is she?*

Tracey had some more choice words to say about the Gryffindor, Muggleborn champion as they
continued to their next class and Harry could only nod along with her as Blaise repeated the joke
under his breath and laughed at the same time.

“It's not funny!” Tracey cried as they turned the corner and avoided some Ravenclaws that
“bumped” into Harry again.

“You have to admit that it is. Even if Granger has a stick up her ass, she got you good there,
Trace,” Blaise said.

“She's got a stick up her ass because she's insufferable and has no friends. And I knew
it was a quarter!”

“Do you know what half of a quarter is?” Blaise teased.

“An eighth....” Tracey responded hesitantly.

It was true though. Granger rarely socialized with her other Gryffindors in the Great Hall and
she certainly didn't go out of her way to talk with them when they were in class. Of course,
that could just be contributed to her famously studious nature, but the only person he had seen to
spend consistent time with her was that bumbling oaf, Neville Longbottom. If Merlin had ever cursed
someone with just enough magic not to be a Squib, it was Longbottom.

“Why do you think she doesn't have any friends?”

“Well, she's ugly. She's a know-it-all. She always thinks she's right. She
constantly puts down other people. She spends all of her free time studying. I think she might also
be a lesbian.” Tracey counted off the list of reasons one finger at a time, easily ripping off the
insults.

A choked cry could be heard from behind them and they watched the subject in question rush off
the other way, her bushy hair trailing behind her as she did.

Tracey blanched, looking torn between not caring and feeling regretful. “Well, I didn't
*really* want her to hear all of that.”

“At least you got her back pretty good.” Blaise snickered as he continued to walk along.

Tracey shrugged, apparently over it and followed Blaise back to the Common Room for their free
period. Harry paused in the hallway though, looking around the corner that Granger had ran
around.

“Harry, come on!” Blaise called as he turned the corner, not waiting for them.

“I think I'm going to Trow's and watch some more matches,” Harry said.

Tracey rolled her eyes at him and bid him good-bye as she caught up to Blaise. Waiting until
they turned the corner and their footsteps were long gone, Harry followed Granger around the corner
instead of making an about face for Trow's classroom. She wasn't in the immediate vicinity,
but he kept walking until he heard a quiet whimpering. He was on the Third Floor and he immediately
knew where she had gone for some reprieve. The girl's bathroom on this floor was often
abandoned because it was the haunt of Moaning Myrtle and Granger must have concluded it was as good
of place as any to have a good cry.

Harry paused but knocked on the door, wanting to make sure it was Granger and not some other
simpering girl.

“I'm busy in here!” It was definitely Granger.

Not bothering to ask for permission, Harry pushed open the swinging door, coming face to face
with the teary, red-faced Gryffindor girl. He didn't say anything for a moment, shoving his
hands into his pockets as he fidgeted with the urge to avoid her gaze.

*She's not a Legilimens. Get over it!*

“What?” She sniffled. “Come to tell me what a know-it-all I am?”

Instead of answering with words, Harry summoned a tissue from the inside breast pocket of his
robes. He levitated it over to her so she had no choice but to take it and while she didn't
look too happy, she still wiped away her tears with it.

“I'm sorry about Tracey. She can be a bit blunt sometimes,” Harry offered as means for an
apology.

“What does it matter to you? I didn't hear you disagreeing.”

And in truth, Tracey was right on a couple counts. Granger was a known know-it-all and even now,
she was putting him down. If her time spent in Trow's classroom was any indicator, she was even
more studious about matches than himself, but Tracey was wrong on one count. Granger was very
pretty in her own way.

Harry shrugged. “I'm sorry about that. If you want an apology, you can ask her, but I doubt
you'll get one.”

Granger snorted, blowing her nose into the wet tissue. “Then what are you doing here? Come to
see the full effects?”

“I -” Harry paused, not really knowing *why* he had followed Granger. Part of it was
because she had consumed his thoughts lately, but another part of it was to make sure that she was
okay. After all, he knew what it felt like to be unfairly judged.

“Let's just say that I'm interested.”

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Interested in what?”

“What else?” He shrugged. “How you beat me. Obviously I can't ask you in front of everyone
or else they're going to think I'm groveling for advice from you, but I have been thinking
about it a lot.”

She rolled her eyes again and Harry wondered if girls did that in the mirror to perfect the art
of disapproval.

“You're not a...Legilimens, are you?” Harry hesitantly asked.

Granger snorted again. “Please, Potter. If I were, I'd be able to do more than beat you in a
duel.”

*Well, at least that's a confirmation. Or she could be lying to me. But if she were, she
would be able to hear this....Granger, can you hear this?* And then he imagined Headmaster Snape
naked.

When she didn't make any sort of visual recognition that she had read his thoughts, Harry
was positive she wasn't a Legilimens. There was no way she couldn't react to the horrible
image of a prancing, nude Snape.

“Potter, I'm not going to tell you. Now would you mind leaving me alone?” Granger turned
away from him, apparently ending their already abrupt discussion.

Harry stuck his hands in his pocket, knowing his line of questioning was more to fill the gap
than anything else. Still, he knew what it felt like to be ostracized and felt compelled to say,
“They don't all hate you, you know. They're just jealous.”

Hermione Granger turned around to address this accusation, but Harry was already long gone.

“Is he a Legilimens?” she whispered to herself.

Headmaster Snape was waiting for them outside the Room of Requirement, his hands behind his back
and his expression as placid as always. Class was with the Ravenclaws for two weeks and Harry knew
that they were generally the biggest challenge. If Snape was standing outside the Room of
Requirement, then it was generally known it was a House Match. The thought excited Harry as they
had just gone through individual duels for their two weeks with Gryffindors.

“Quiet.” It was just one word, but it was spoken with such clarity that the usual chatter died
down in a heartbeat.

“Today will mark your first day of inter-House matches. You are outside of the room today so
neither of you gain a competitive advantage. Nonetheless, due to the unique setting of this
particular match, one House will enter first. That will be decided on a coin flip. I require a
representative of each House.” Snape said all of this in one rapid fire breath.

Anthony Goldstein stepped forward for the Ravenclaw House, but the Slytherins remained static.
They hesitantly looked around at each other, but it was Harry that finally stepped forward,
ignoring the indignant scoff of Draco.

“Galleon, Sickle, or Knut?” Snape asked, one hand behind his back this time.

“Sickle,” answered Anthony.

“Knut,” Harry replied.

“It is a Sickle.” Interestingly enough, Snape never showed the silver coin. “Ravenclaws enter
first.”

There was a small whoop from the Ravenclaw crowd while the Slytherins groaned. Everyone knew
that the advantage of knowing the playing field first was key to defeating the other House.

“Good job, Potter.” Malfoy sneered.

“Furthermore, you will enter in groups. Boot, take four of your members. Goldstein, take the
other four.”

They split into two halves and Snape let them into the room. There was no telling what sort of
scenario Snape had envisioned. During a memorable House match against the Gryffindors in there
First Year, Snape had placed them all in a giant room with walls that slowly enclosed them. More
than one student found themselves with an accident in their pants during that exercise.

“Malfoy, take Zabini, Davis, and Goyle. Nott, take the rest. Except for you, Potter. You're
going in alone.”

Harry fumed. *Of course I am*.

He didn't exactly know what Snape was playing at, but he didn't like it. Tracey gave him
a sympathetic glance as she slowly trotted off to join Malfoy and Blaise, but the rest of the
Slytherins were looking at him oddly. What did Snape want to do by isolating Harry? If Snape
thought he was doing something clever, he gave no indication of it as he turned his back and
allowed Nott's group to enter the Room first. Malfoy, Tracey, Blaise, and Goyle followed soon
thereafter.

Then, he was alone in the hallway with Snape. The headmaster's back was still turned to him
so Harry was content with glaring at said back, wanting to know why the headmaster seemed to have a
vendetta against him. Why did Snape go out of his way to make things hard for him?

“Why am I going in alone, Professor?” Harry dared to ask.

“You're setting records in terms of your placement in the Master List at your age, Mr.
Potter. You must be held to different standards,” Snape drawled. “Now, in.”

Harry obediently walked into the Room of Requirement, still angry over his isolation. When the
door closed behind him, Harry realized that Snape had handicapped him far more than he thought
possible.

The fog was thick, impenetrable, and surrounded him at every angle.

He literally couldn't see two feet in front of him nor could he see any of his fellow
Slytherins or the opposing Ravenclaws. In short, Harry was blind to the world and no degree of
corrective lenses could solve this situation. Right away, Harry knew it was a manufactured fog
because his glasses weren't fogging up like it usually would. Instinctively, he crouched,
trying to make himself a smaller target for stray spells.

In the distance, he could hear voices and shouts but at least they were together and able to
defend each other. Alone, Harry could do nothing but hopelessly wander around. For a second, he
didn't move as he tried to gain his bearings. Though he couldn't see, he could still hear
and the soft putter-patter of feet told him that there were people close by. Unfortunately, Harry
didn't know if it was Tracey and Blaise walking by or Anthony Goldstein and his merry band of
Ravenclaws.

*Think! Snape wouldn't give us this challenge if there wasn't some catch. Fighting
blind is hopeless.*

So Harry started backing up, keeping his wand in front of him. He wanted to light a *Lumos*
to see if he could pierce the fog, but doing so would be akin to waving a sign that said, “I'm
over here!”

Instead, he slowly walked backwards, his wand in front of him and his left hand behind him in
case he ran into anything. The first order of business would be to find out if there was a wall he
could put his back to. If there was a wall, he could eliminate one avenue of attack and focus his
efforts on everything in front of him. Yet, he knew that Snape could have easily made this an
endless open space of fog. Still, there had to be some sort of catch.

Keeping his ears tuned, Harry could hear nothing but shapeless sounds bouncing back and forth
through the fog. The dense cloud prevented him from even seeing shapes and shadows and it had the
added effect of claustrophobia. It enclosed him at every angle, but Harry kept his breath calm and
deep. It would be no use to fall into a panic over a simple setting.

“Did you hear that?” A disembodied voice floated through the fog with near proximity. Harry
immediately fell to the ground, his belly flat against the flat, marble floor. The male voice was
nearby, but Harry couldn't distinguish one voice from the other. It could just as easily have
been Nott or Crabbe.

The murmur of voices was still close and left with no other choice, Harry started crawling
towards the source of the sound. If they were Ravenclaws, Harry had the jump on them and could at
least take a few of them out for his fellow Slytherins. If they were Slytherins, at least Harry
wouldn't be alone in this fog of war anymore.

He crawled on elbows and knees, trying to make as little sound as possible. To avoid clatter,
Harry kept his wand in his mouth, biting down hard to make sure it didn't fall. Whoever they
were weren't moving and Harry could only hope he was approaching them with their backs turned.
If they happened to be Ravenclaws, he would be crawling to his doom.

The voices were louder now but still indistinguishable. Harry surmised that he couldn't have
been more than ten feet from them, but still, the fog was so thick that he couldn't even make
out body shapes. All he could hear were their voices. He unfolded into a crouch, balancing on the
balls of his feet so that he could move quickly if they were indeed Ravenclaws. Just as he was
about to move the next couple of feet and identify the group, an enormous gong almost shattered his
eardrums.

*GONG!!!*

At once, the fog lifted and Harry stared into the face of Anthony Goldstein and four other
Ravenclaws. In that split second, Harry noticed how big of a nose Anthony had and how his thick
eyebrows jumped in surprise and how his eyes flicked upwards towards the scar on Harry's
forehead. The small millisecond of paralysis disappointed and Harry did the first thing that came
to mind.

Harry punched him square in that big nose of his.

Though physical violence was normally an ineffective tactic, the close range quarters provided
Harry with the quickest way to disorient Anthony. The Ravenclaws seemed too stunned to do anything
as Harry quickly sprinted away. After a few seconds, they regained their senses and fired spells at
the retreating Slytherin, but Harry had escaped too quickly, a skill honed by years of bullying by
his cousin, Dudley Dursley.

A simple *Protego* would have blocked any of the spells had they been on target, but they
were still in shock from Harry's aggressive move. Instinct had taken over Harry and while he
certainly wasn't the biggest fellow, years of taking punches from Dudley and his friends had
taught Harry some key weak spots that one should cover. The nose was definitely one of them and
Anthony was lucky if his nose wasn't broken.

Just as quickly as it was lifted, the fog settled in again, obscuring any vision. Still,
Harry's foray into the Ravenclaws had served its purpose as he could now identify them before
than they could find him. They were moving in a group, a group that tended to make noise no matter
how careful they were. Harry was by himself, a fact that seemed to help him more than he originally
thought. The Goldstein group was quiet again, no doubt suspicious and aware of Harry's nearby
location.

Having a minute to brainstorm, Harry realized that the fog would be lifted at the next gong. The
Ravenclaws would reach this same conclusion just as quickly and would take preparations for any
such attack. Thus, Harry couldn't risk an attack right away. At least, not an attack that would
almost guarantee his knockout. A far better movement would be to pick them off one by one. The only
problem was that there seemed to be no cover in sight. Even if Harry attempted to knock the
Ravenclaws out one by one, they would clearly see him attacking them.

*Where is the rest of my House?*

The ruckus must have caused one of the three remaining groups to gravitate their way, so Harry
pressed himself to the ground and listened again. Yet, the only thing he could hear was the rapid
beating of his own heart. The Goldstein group wasn't making any more sound. If they had somehow
gotten nearer, Harry would be plainly visible at the next gong when the fog lifted.

And sure enough, the gong came again.

*GONG!!!*

The spells came in a furious rush. With the fog lifted, Harry could see that the Ravenclaws
*had* found a form of shelter. It was a shell that had square holes cut out of it. It
resembled a pyramid and Anthony had somehow managed to get him and the rest of the Ravenclaws
inside in a short amount of time. Again, Harry responded instinctively and curled into a tight
ball.

When Dudley and his friends finally caught him, Harry learned it was best to curl into a ball to
become a smaller target and protect vital body parts. That was how he felt as he curled into a ball
and let the his *Protego* absorb as much of the spells as it could. Most of them sailed wide
but his shield held as the fog retook the arena. Still, the Ravenclaws were smart and kept firing
at where they thought Harry was. The murky air was alight with spells and Harry had to gingerly
crawl along the ground to a safe area but not before a Cutting Curse nicked his temple.

A burst of pain followed by a dull trickle caused Harry to reach for his head, his hand slick
with blood. He was no stranger to pain, a staple of these House matches, but something inside him
ignited. Maybe it was being forced to curl into a ball, reminding him of all the times Dudley had
kicked him in the ribs. Maybe it was his frustration with the fog. Maybe it was that damned Granger
for beating him.

He stood up, his back ramrod straight and heard voices to his left.

“Malfoy, I think Harry is this way!”

“Hold *still*. Potter is going to get himself hit and then we'll take the Ravenclaws by
surprise. They want to hit Potter so bad they'll never see us.”

“But Malfoy, Harry needs our help.”

“It's for the *House*. Don't forget that, Zabini.”

*Malfoy always thinks he's right*. The plan formulated in his head, stark clear and
half-mad. It was First Year all over again. But one thing kept hammering into his head and he
couldn't get it out.

*Attack the Ravenclaw*.

“*BLAISE, COLUMN TO THE LEFT!”*

“ZABINI, IGNORE THAT COMMENT!”

“*TRACEY, NOTT. COLUMN TO THE RIGHT!”*

“*IGNORE THAT!”*

Harry took a running start, sure the Ravenclaws would be mightily confused with all of the
yelling. He trusted Blaise and Tracey to take their positions and once he had done what needed to
be done, they would easily be able to mop up the Ravenclaws. His feet padded against the flat,
marble floor and the fog didn't even feel like a mist as it whipped against his face. He knew
where the Ravenclaw shell was and he knew exactly how to disrupt them.

*“**FOR SLYTHERIN!!!”*

His knees bent as he ran up the pyramid-like ramp. There was a hole at the very top and he
already had a spell on his lips as he descended upon the middle of all the Ravenclaws.

*GONG!!!*

Harry didn't remember much of the moment. Raw instinct took over as he landed with a jolt
amongst the Ravenclaws inside the quartered pyramid. Blaise though, saw the whole thing up
close.

“We told Malfoy to fuck off and formed the columns like you said. We didn't really know what
was happening but when the fog lifted, all we saw was you hurtling through the air! There was blood
all over your glasses and you kind of looked like a maniac, but you landed on all the Ravenclaws
and you took out three of them before they even had the sense of reason to try and get you. But
they were so confused that they were hitting each other and it took a while until Padma Patil
finally had the sense to take you out. By then, we had them all trapped and just shot at all of
them. It was like shooting Flobberworms in a barrel.”

Harry smiled when he heard the description, laying down in the hospital bed with a bandage
wrapped around his head. He might have been the only Slytherin stunned, but he took solace in the
fact that they still won.

**A/N: Hope you like this chapter. It was one of my favorite ones to write. There were a few
rewrites of this, but I settled on this one. Apologies about the delay, I want to have a few
chapters written before I publish one and work's been a little busier than I thought it'd
be. Thanks again for all the great reviews and comments. Let me know how you feel about the
match.**
 Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7
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5. What is Necessary
--------------------



Harry shivered in his sleep, tossing and turning as and endless plague of screams filled his
dreams. They were high and shrill and sometimes words were intermixed but he could never
distinguish one voice from another. In the end, a high laughter always preceded his awakening.

Cold sweat poured down his back as he wiped the damp perspiration off his forehead. Whipping off
the blanket, Harry drew a robe around him and padded down to the Slytherin Common Room. It could
never be conceived as warm or homely, but there was a certain drama to the room that Harry always
found attractive. It was wide with dark, ebony furniture accented with green and gold trim.
Everything in it was of the most elegant nature, from the plush rugs to the fine handle of the
poker. Along the walls were deep, green banners with the Slytherin emblem and a snake intertwining
the banners. The lighting was always dim, clustered around a few lamps that constantly gave the
impression that everyone else was in the shadows.

Harry took a spot on one of the love seats by the fireside though there were no embers burning.
A quick *Incendio* did the trick and Harry watched the fires burn for a little while, trying
to wash out the screams from his dreams. He had always them and while he suspected the true origin
of his dreams, they never came into to detail. It was always vague, filled with a familiarity that
was just out of recognition. The warm glow of the fire was starting to envelop him and the cold,
chilling laughter was finally ebbing away.

“Couldn't sleep?”

Tracey plopped down next to him, a loose robe covering her shorts and a dark green tank top. She
bent her legs so that she was in a little ball, her arms wrapped around her shins and her chin
placed on top of her knees. She watched the fire for a minute or two with him, not caring that he
didn't answer. What other possible answer could there be for sitting in the Common Room at 3 in
the morning?

“What's your excuse?” Harry finally asked.

“Millicent tends to snore. I woke up to use the loo and all was lost from there.”

Harry chuckled, lifting his eyeglasses to rub his tired eyes. He knew that Tracey wanted to ask
why he was awake too, but he never told her. It was too embarassing to disclose to her that he woke
up in the middle of the night from nightmares. He was thirteen for Merlin's sake.

“You come down here a lot don't you? I mean, in the middle of the night that is.”

“I like the fire. It's cold in the dorm.”

“Oh.”

It was a disbelieving noise, one that Tracey made often when she didn't want to press a
subject around him. Though she was one of his best friends, Harry rarely opened up to either her or
Blaise. Blaise would try to turn it into a joke and deep inside, Harry admitted that Blaise could
probably care less. He was a person of opportunity and ambition and while Harry knew that Blaise
put up a good front, he also knew that his dark friend was decidedly cold-hearted. It only made
sense that he was in Slytherin with the rest of the snakes.

“How's your head?” she asked.

“Not a scar on it...besides the other one I mean.”


Tracey smiled, pulling back a curly strand of her black hair behind her ear. “Did you know that
when my Mum heard you were in Slytherin, she wanted to propose an arranged marriage between us
right away?”

The abject horror on Harry's face must have made Tracey laugh because she was suddenly
giggling uncontrollably, pointing at his face as she buried her head.

“I mean, I didn't mean it like that!” Harry protested. “I would be flattered to but - I just
- that's a little...”

“...ridiculous?” Tracey finished, her blue eyes twinkling. “I told her that myself, but she
still brings it up when I go home for the summer. Especially since we've gotten closer.”

“Well, I'm sorry for that,” Harry genuinely said. “I can't believe that your family
still believes in arranged marriages.”

“You know how Purebloods are. Traditional to the core.”

“And your Mum would make an exception for a Half-Blood like me?”

“You're the Boy-Who-Lived. I think that transcends any blood status.”

“Hmph. Not really a woman who sticks to her principles?” Harry raised his eyebrows at her with a
mocking smile.

“Watch what you about my mother, Potter.” Tracey tried to say it in an intimidating voice, but
she dissolved into a fit of giggles again.

“Do you honestly care about that? All that blood stuff, I mean.” Harry didn't look at her as
he asked, content with staring at the small blaze.

“It has its place.”

Harry saw her shrug out of the corner of his eye, carefully watching her reaction. She grew
quiet, not wanting to extend the conversation any longer. Harry knew that he couldn't just
blatantly ask her if she disagreed, but the lack of boasting or any gregariousness on her part
appeased him. At least she wasn't like Malfoy. Harry suspected that she might have had her own
reservations about blood statuses, but it was hard to buck against the House as well as her family
values.

“And if I was a Muggleborn? Would she still want to try and arrange you and I even if I
*am* the Boy-Who-Lived?”

Tracey drew her lips together, a slight tinge of annoyance that Harry recognized. She didn't
answer for a moment, deep in thought. With an exasperated sigh, she disappointedly said, “No.”

Harry nodded to himself, careful not to express any overt disagreement with her answer. Instead,
he scooted over on the large love seat and patted the space next to him.

“The fire's warmer over here.”

She didn't hesitate to get up, padding on the plush rug and curling up next to him so their
arms were touching. Harry sat with his arms crossed and his legs stretched out in front of him
while she resumed her position of sitting like a tiny cannonball.

“Do you care at all?” she wondered aloud.

In turn, Harry suspected that she knew he wasn't as deeply committed to blood statuses as
the rest of the Slytherins. After all, he was raised by a Muggle family and didn't fit the
traditional standards of a Pureblood Slytherin. Their constant proximity to each other also allowed
her to see his frowns and looks of disdain when he overheard Malfoy or some of the older
Slytherins.

“I'd be honored to be arranged to wed you.” Harry deflected.

She punched him hard in the shoulder, the smile lighting up her heart-shaped face.

“Prat.”

****************

When Harry woke up in the morning, overcast skies started an already gloomy day. After a few
more minutes, Tracey had fallen asleep in his lap and Harry had to gingerly wake her up and get her
to bed. Only a few hours of slumber came to him before class started again and Harry took a little
more time than usual facing the warm spray of the shower. Their first class that morning was
Creatures with Gryffindor. It was the new House on rotation.

Professor Lupin was already waiting for them, still dressed in shabby robes. Usually, the class
would file in with Slytherins on one side and Gryffindors on the other, but Harry amusedly noted
that there were certain people, like Malfoy and his goons, who sat in the back. It was no
coincidence that a few other Gryffindors sat next to him, still in the back of the classroom and as
far away from Professor Lupin as possible.

If Lupin noticed the odd arrangement, he said nothing, only flashing them a smile as he closed
the door with his wand. It shut with a finality and Harry heard a small whimper behind him. He
could only smile at their fearfulness, not detecting any sort of danger with Professor Lupin. After
all, he was only a werewolf for a short time anyways. Where was the harm?

“Good morning, everyone. I'm pleased to have a special project for you today. Headmaster
Snape often talks about being fearless and conquering your fears in battle. But how can you know
what you fear unless you see it? There is more than one way to conquer your fears but the easiest
way is to see a physical manifestation of your own fear. Who can tell me a creature that can do
that?”

Ron Weasley raised his wand, an oddity if Harry had ever seen one. “It's a Boggart,
sir.”

“Correct, Mr. Weasley! And who can tell me a Boggart does?”

Hermione Granger's hand shot up next and she patiently held it up even though it was clear
that a lot of the Purebloods had heard of a Boggart. Lupin smiled at the bushy-haired teenager and
tilted his head to allow an answer.

“A Boggart is a creature that manifests one's worst fear. It is often found hiding in dank,
dark places where it can hide its true form until a person comes along. Its rare for someone ever
to see a Boggart's true form.”

“Correct again, Ms. Granger! Now with all of that information, can someone tell me what our
special project will be today?”

Parvati Patil gulped and said, “A Boggart?”

Lupin smiled though it didn't quite reach his eyes. “Astute, Ms. Patil.”

Pivoting on the spot, the Creatures Professor brought forth a stand-alone closet that was
already rattling, wobbling between its two legs. The class gasped and the audible sounds of chairs
screeching backwards shrieked in their ears.

“No need to be alarmed! The Boggart is trapped inside this closet until I open it, now I want
everyone to form a single file line.”

It was a slow going and many made an effort to stay in the back of the line as they filled out.
Eventually, Harry was somewhere around the first third with Tracey in front of him and Blaise
behind him. In front was Ron Weasley, visibly shaking in time with the shuddering closet. Lupin
hushed them, clearing the room of its desks and chairs and walking towards the corner where he had
an odd vinyl, record player.

“The key to defeating the Boggart is to *humor*. Imagine something amusing and turn that
Boggart into something funny and it will lose its fearful form! The spell you cast is
*Riddikulus*, but remember - humor is the key.”

He placed the needle onto the record and the instrumental version of “Sing, Sing, Sing” started
blasting over the magically amplified speaker.

“Come on!” Lupin encouraged. “Here we go!”

The closet burst open and a giant tarantula poured out, its eight legs flailing and smacking
against the ground. There was a collective gasp as the class all took one step backwards and Ron
Weasley suddenly lost all color in his skin.

“Weasley! *HUMOR!*”

His hand shook and the spell was barely above a whisper but Weasley managed to squeak it
out.

“*Riddikulus...*”

The tarantula suddenly had on bowling shoes, slipping on the slick floor as it toppled over in a
heap. Weasley gave a relieved sigh and there were a few chuckles at the sight of the giant spider
on its back.

“Excellent! Next! Next!” Lupin waved Ron away to the back of the line as Seamus Finnigan stepped
forward.

Finnigan's Boggart was a Banshee who lost her voice when Seamus cast the spell. The Banshee
clutched its throat, trying to shriek but failing miserably. Eventually, the class chuckled in
appreciation, fearing the Boggart less and less as each student went up and took their turn. With
the exception of a few students who had to say the spell more than once to make it work, the class
generally dealt with the Boggart. There were some interesting fears, especially Lavender
Brown's doppelganger that fell from the sky and splattered on the ground. She had to chant the
spell to herself before her body suddenly jumped in the air and started performing an awkward
Russian dance. Even then, she wasn't particularly convinced.

All of a sudden, Tracey stepped up to the metaphorical plate, tying her curly, dark hair into a
ponytail and rolling up her sleeves. She had a determined look on her face as the Boggart writhed
around on the ground as a lion without any teeth. The Boggart whirled in the air as it did when it
morphed into shape and eventually, Harry saw Tracey's greatest fear.

It was all fire, a heat so scalding that Harry could feel it even from a distance. He heard
someone gasp behind him as the fire started taking shape, forming legs and then a torso and then
arms and finally a head with horns. It turned around, snarling and growling with a haltering
cadence. The flames licked the floor, but Tracey was unmoved. She raised her wand defiantly and
yelled, “*RIDDIKULUS!”*

A great wave swelled and washed over the fiery demon, dousing it as it gave a shrill wail until
all that was left were dying embers. No one laughed. No one chuckled. No one even so much as
snorted. Was that supposed to be funny?

Lupin, apparently undeterred, shouted, “Next!”

Harry stepped forward, wondering what would appear from the Boggart. He had a few ideas, mainly
centered around Dudley and his friends. He hoped that it wouldn't show up though because that
would be a bit of an embarrassment to someone who was supposed to be the first Third Year to ever
rank that high on the Master List. The Boggart started taking shape again and Harry widened his
stance like he was about to duel. He was wrong about it being Dudley.

He was not wrong about it being a Dursley.

The Vernon Dursley in the room was just as fat as he was in real life, his belly spilling over
his belt with pants that barely stayed affixed around his waist. His mustache was twitching and
Harry spotted the nervous tick his right eye took when he was furious. In his right hand was a
brown belt rolled around his hand several times. He uncoiled it so that instead of holding the
buckle, he held the other end of the belt. Vernon raised it above his head and bellowed,
“*BOY!”*

“*Riddikulus*,” Harry said in a flat tone.

Vernon started to swell, his belly inflating even more as his feet slowly came off the ground.
The buttons at the top of his shirt rocketed off in different directions as his feet slowly came
off the ground. His face was purple and his eyes manic, but the class laughed as Vernon started
drifting towards the ceiling like an obese balloon.

“Next,” Lupin said softly, making eye contact with Harry and giving him a furious look.
*What's he mad at me for?* Harry thought.

Walking towards the back of the line, Harry chanced a look over his shoulder to see a young boy
shivering with tattered clothes. Blaise said the words and the boy was suddenly cartwheeling all
over the room. As Harry reached the back of the line, Tracey immediately leaned towards him and
whispered, “Who was that?”

“No one,” Harry quickly answered, “Some Muggle that I got in trouble with once. Don't know
why that was the one who showed up.”

Tracey nodded, accepting the story at face value. Sometimes, he wished she was more perceptive
about things, but then again, he was the one that purposefully didn't tell her about his uncle.
But he was interested in her Boggart.

“And yours? That looked like some fire demon.”

Tracey shrugged, brushing her robes down and rolling back her sleeves so they were straight down
her thin arms. “I've always been afraid of it. I had nightmares about it when I was little and
they never really went away. Luckily, fire has a very obvious answer to it.”

“Wasn't very funny though.”

“It was funny to me.”

The class ended quickly afterwards and Lupin asked them to write one scroll of an analysis of
the Boggart's behavior and how to quickly defeat it. It was a relatively easy assignment, but
Lupin insisted on using the experiences in class and relating it to their scroll. He dismissed them
early, citing their excellent performance with the Boggart.

“Harry. A word with you, please,” Lupin called him back.

Telling Tracey and Blaise to go on, Harry lingered for a second as Lupin shuffled his papers. He
took his time to examine the professor with the graying hair. His clothes were baggy and a couple
years worn, but Harry cold see lithe strong arms and a strong back. From his readings, he knew that
transformed werewolves inherited some of the physical strength and though he was shabbily dressed,
Lupin must have been very able.

“May I ask who that was?”

Harry smoothly answered, giving Lupin the same lie he gave to Tracey. “It was some Muggle I got
in trouble with when I was little. Apparently, it scared me enough.”

Lupin paused, giving him a piercing look. But Harry kept his face blank and his eyebrows
slightly raised as if he was surprised that he was being told to stay back just for this. After a
moment, Lupin nodded, his lips pursed and his expression defeated.

“You know, Harry. I was in Hogwarts many years ago. You should look me up in the yearbook some
time. You'll be pleased to know we share many things in common.”

“Okay, sure. Is that all?”

Lupin dismissed with a slight nod of the head and Harry left the classroom, bewildered as to why
Lupin would ask him to look him up in the yearbook but grateful that he didn't press about
Vernon.

************

Night fell quickly after their classes and Harry was once again in Trow's classroom, pouring
over footage of previous duels. Tonight, he was once again focusing on Hermione Granger and her
apparently psychic ability to predict spells. She was supremely confident in her form, never
looking surprised as spell after spell was shot at her. In turn, she only used spells when it was
necessary, often allowing her adversaries to tire themselves out or over extend themselves in
frustration. In short, Hermione Granger was ruthlessly efficient.

It was an admirable quality, to be sure, but Harry was confident that he could overwhelm her
next time they dueled. Her characteristics were too Ravenclaw, too practiced, and too predictable.
Most importantly, she rarely led the attacks, allowing others to be baited into attacking her and
exposing their own inherent weaknesses. There was merit to that plan as she was a girl as well as a
Muggleborn. It must have been all the more frustrating to others who perceived her the way Tracey
did.

Backing away from the Stationary Omnioculars, Harry saw that the room was dark and even Granger
had left already. Trow kept one light lit for him, but it was already past supper and approaching
curfew. His notes were near illegible in the dark so instead of continuing on, Harry packed his
belongings and started towards the kitchens for a late night snack. The House Elves there always
amused him and they never failed to bring him the best of desserts.

The corridors were dark, save for the torches that lined the walls and the moon hanging
overhead, and Harry's rhythmic footsteps immediately allowed his mind to wander and stray.
*How can I get higher on the Master List?* *It's not enough to just keep beating others
and winning the inter-House competitions. I have to do something remarkable. Is that why Snape
isolated me during the match versus the Ravenclaws? Did he want to see how I reacted?*

Harry hoped that he had acquitted himself quite well as no one else on Slytherin was even
touched by a spell during that duel. In retrospect, there were other ways to solve the problem, but
the suffocating blanket of the fog did its job. It disoriented him to the point where he
couldn't think logically and rationally. Turning a corner to the kitchens, Harry was so lost in
the clouds that he didn't hear the footsteps coming from behind him.

The first thing he felt was the sharp snap of his neck as something smashed against the back of
his head. His glasses tumbled off the bridge of his nose, clattering against the ground as it
crunched under the sole of someone's shoe. Instinctively reaching for his wand, Harry found
that he was unable to do so due to the other foot that had fallen on his hand. Crying out in pain,
Harry tried to wrestle free, knowing all too well the inevitable next step.

They always kicked the stomach, knowing that was where vital organs lay so Harry brought his
stomach taut as the toe of another foot smashed into it.

*There's four of them*, Harry thought through the pain.

Instead of allowing the foot to escape, Harry threw his body over it, rolling the ankle and
hearing the satisfied yell of one of his attackers. He twisted as hard as he could, but his other
hand was still stepped on and so all he could hope for was a severely twisted ankle.

“Get the fucker off me!” The voice yelled.

A few more kicks to the ribs did nothing, but the shoe that connected with his cheek dazed him
enough to loosen his grip. From here, Harry knew there was nothing he could do without his wand so
he curled into a ball, tucking his elbows to take the brunt of the damage for his ribs and hoping
they would avoid his head.

Luckily, wizards weren't nearly as adept at physical violence as Muggles. Harry already knew
that they must have been Purebloods because they didn't take advantage of damaging his legs and
instead went for the more traditional body shots. They stopped after a moment, but Harry didn't
release from his position. Often, Dudley would stop just so Harry would open up and his fat cousin
would start the assault all over again. If nothing else, Harry was a quick learner when he applied
himself.

They did stop, their heavy breathing filling the halls. One, Harry assumed it was their de facto
leader, leaned down and whispered, “You're nothing special, Potter. Just a little twat that
everyone doesn't see. Think of that next time you go to Battle class.”

Their receding footsteps meant that they were apparently leaving and truth be told, it was not
the worst jumping that Harry had ever received. Once, Harry stole Dudley's candy cane during
Boxing Day and Dudley had proceeded to stuff his mouth with snow. It was only through a slight
moment of ingenuity that Harry started swallowing the dirty snow to prevent himself from choking.
*It's just water*, he had thought.

Hoping to Merlin that no one else was in the hallway, Harry dragged himself to the Slytherin
Common Room. Slowly opening the secret passageway, Harry was relieved to find no one in the Common
Room for once. It must have been even later than he thought. Making haste, Harry took the stairs
two at a time, ignoring the painful agony in his ribs and his abdomen. Nott was finishing his
nightly preparations, so Harry paused outside of the lavatory, dearly hoping that his fellow
Slytherin would hurry up. Fortunately, Harry caught him at the tail end of brushing his teeth.
Quickly divesting of his clouds, Harry jumped in the shower, bringing a hand mirror with him as he
did.

The hot water stung his skin, but there were few cuts. Most of the damage would manifest itself
into bruises that could easily be hidden behind clothing as his Uncle frequently reminded him when
he was young. He was fortunate that they didn't break his wand but even Purebloods wouldn't
go so far. They wanted to send him a message, not get themselves expelled. A broken wand would lead
to the Headmaster and Snape would quickly find the culprits. No, they just wanted Harry to know
they were there, lurking in the dark when he didn't expect it.

There wasn't a lot of damage to his faith, thankfully, and Harry had brought some special
ointment that could easily cover and heal the damage. Though he wasn't an expert with Healing
spells, he knew a few that could fix some issues with the slight bruising on the back of his head
and a quick *Reparo* fixed his glasses.

There was nothing he could do about the bruises on his ribs and his abdomen though. Those would
have to stay and only time and the human body would heal it. Thankfully, they were easily hidden
and Harry wouldn't have to explain them unless someone physically lifted his shirt and spotted
the purple-yellow bruises. Those could be explained away as experiences from Battle class.

Yet, if they spotted the thin and criss-crossing scars on his back, that would have been much
more difficult to explain. They would have started asking questions about why they were so faded
and why they were so numerous. Those questions, Harry did not want to answer. He only wanted to be
known by the one scar on his forehead, not the several on his back.

**********

“Do you think this wise?”

“I think lots of thing wise. Conversely, I find lots of things to be madness. This is the second
time you're questioning my judgment.”

“Making him suffer for suffering's sake just doesn't seem to be the best course of
action. Not to mention the effect on those boys. If they knew that they were subconsciously pushed
to attack him...”

“I only enhanced what was already felt. The boy needs to know that enemies exist. Too long he
has crushed all of his competition save for the insufferable Muggleborn.”

“He *did* perform admirably against the Ravenclaws. Few doubt his courage and bravery,
traits that...”

“....Gryffindors would admire, no doubt. Too many times that side of him rears its ugly head.
Still, I doubt few Gryffindors would appreciate the ingenuity and timing of that plan. He also
holds the command of his fellow classmates. They disobeyed Malfoy and took their positions even
when they couldn't see him.”

“It is a testament to his ability to get people to trust him. There is an earnest honesty about
him. Do you wish to stamp *all of it* out?”

“I wish to stamp the trusting out. He must know that he can trust no one but himself. There is a
difference in delegating others responsibilities and trusting them. Need I remind you of the last
time the Potters put their trust in someone?”

“The Potters trusted a lot of people. Just because one of them failed doesn't mean that we
should subject the boy to the radical opposite.”

“How can you argue with the results? He is thriving.”

“He is talented. There is a difference. There is no nuance. It is all sound of fury and we both
know where the fury comes from.”

“I stepped in whenever that blasted pig of an Uncle went too far. They won't remember, but I
always prevented it from getting worse.”

“But you still let it happen.”

“It has hardened him. There is no question that his hardship is his motivation.”

“I wish there were other ways to motivate him. He can only survive on anger and talent for so
long. He needs to refine these talents, explore different ways to attack. It will be no use forcing
him into these situations if he only reacts with barbs and talons.”

“What do you propose?”

“The Muggleborn. Her way of doing things.”

“*Her?* I already have enough trouble with the wolf discovering things with the Boggart. I
thought he would know something about harnessing the beast within, but I fear that he's quickly
outgrowing his usefulness.”

“He has his purpose. It would be too suspicious to release him now.”

“Release him? Yes. Get him sacked? Not as difficult.”

“There are more important things to worry about than the wolf. He needs the Muggleborn. He needs
to start thinking differently.”

“I fear you greatly overestimate her. She's nothing more than a product of luck and her
classmates severe misconception that she's incapable. We already know her limits!”

“She has her limits but if she helps him untap his, what is the harm?”

“You know the harm.”

“You said you would do everything possible to maximize his talent. This is the inevitable next
step.”

“Inevitable indeed. Fine. And you were sure that the boys can't be identified by him?”

“I'm positive. I just...this isn't right.”

“A great man once told me that one must make a choice between what is right and what is easy. He
forgot to mention that there is a third option...what is *necessary*.”

**A/N: A couple of people have asked me what the long term plans for this story was. I already
have plotted out beyond Third Year and I do have an ending in mind. That being said, this is
subject to change since I obviously won't write something akin to a book devoted to each year.
Fear not, the structure of Hogwarts Battle School will still remain. And yes, I have read the book
that is the prime inspiration for this ;).**
 Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7
-->



6. Cryptography
---------------



The bruises made it hard to breath, but Harry thought he managed to avoid any cracked ribs. At
worst, one of his ribs were bruised. While his sternum took quite a beating, his skin didn't
turn yellow and purple like it did when Dudley would get in one of his moods. Purebloods
weren't nearly as effective when it came to physical violence.

Nonetheless, the next morning was excruciatingly painful and Harry had to resolve being late to
Transfiguration. McGonagall would be unhappy to say the least, but there would be too many
questions if they saw him gingerly walking to the shower. Once he deemed the dormitory empty, Harry
sat up, wincing from the ache in his core. Every step reverberated throughout his bruised body, but
somehow, he made it to the shower and the hot air assuaged the pain for just a moment.

“*Enlargo*,” Harry whispered at his shirt. Trying to squeeze his arms through the shirt
would set his muscles on fire so he used an old trick to enlarge the shirt so it would just slide
over him and then shrink it when it was on his body. Slipping into his pants took just as much
effort and he had to settle with crudely tying his shoelaces with levitation. Anything to minimize
physical movement.

It took twenty minutes, but he was finally dressed though he was profusely sweating. Casting a
cleaning charm on himself, Harry finally made his way to Transfiguration, wincing all the while. He
laid his hand on the doorknob and took a deep breath. Opening it, he disregarded McGonagall's
imperious stare and walked towards an open chair with a normal gait. It was painful, but Harry
stilled his face, only allowing his jaw to clench tightly.

“Mr. Potter.” Her icy tone made no room for compromise.

“I apologize, Professor McGonagall,” Harry quickly answered, “It won't happen again.”

“Assuredly, it won't.”

When McGonagall turned her back to write something on the board, Tracey, who was a row in front
of him, threw a ball of paper at him. Opening it up, he found her neat scrawl.

*What happened?*

*Just woke up late.* Crumpling the paper, he deftly tossed it back at her so it softly
touched her back and fell to the floor. She only took a minute to respond.

*Woke up late? You're never late!*

*There's a first time for everything*.

Harry threw it back at Tracey again, but the paper suddenly whirled in mid-air and fell a few
feet short. Draco picked it up with a giddy expression and unwrapped the crumpled ball. Judging by
the disappointed wrinkle of his nose, Harry concluded that the scheming blond was disappointed by
the lack of juiciness in the notes. Draco threw the crumpled piece of paper back at Harry, but it
suddenly vaporized in mid-air.

“Mister Malfoy. Mister Potter. Is there something you two wish to discuss in person with each
other?” McGonagall asked with an impatient tone and an arched eyebrow.

“Draco keeps trying to talk to me, but I'm just trying to tell him not during your class,”
Harry innocently feigned.

“Mister Malfoy.” She fixed him with one of her patented glares. “I assure you that you will have
plenty of time to socialize with Mister Potter after class. If you want, I could give both of you
even more time to bond in detention.”

“That won't be necessary,” Malfoy growled.

“Good.” McGonagall haughtily sniffed as she resumed teaching.

Making sure she was turned around, Draco whipped around in his chair and petulantly glared at
him. Harry just waggled his eyebrows back at him, enjoying the torment.

The rest of the class wasn't nearly as eventful as McGonagall taught them the rules of
transfiguring wood. Once or twice, McGonagall called on him to answer and he had to physically
prevent an agonized groan when he spoke. Each word reverberated through his bruised ribs and he
could only hope that no one would notice his hand start shaking when he did answer.

Finally, Transfiguration came to an end and Harry went to careful lengths to wait until the
majority of the students stood up to exit the classroom. Unfortunately, Tracey was carefully
waiting for him, talking casually to Blaise. *Curse them. Why can't they be less
thoughtful?*

Indeed, it would be difficult to hide his ginger movements for a whole walk to another
classroom. He could pretend to ask McGonagall a question, but he knew that Tracey would probably
wait for him anyways. Instead, he walked out of the classroom under his own power without a hitch.
Once he was outside, he leaned against a wall and closed his eyes as a new wave of pain overtook
him.

“Harry?! Are you okay?” Tracey leaned forward to place an arm on his shoulder, but Harry visibly
flinched. A flash of hurt crossed her face, but Harry's eyes were closed so he didn't
register it.

“Yeah. I think it must have been something I ate last night,” he added weakly.

“You didn't come back until everyone was asleep. Did the elves get you? Those little devils
are evil. None of them ever like me,” Blaise bemoaned.

“I'm sure they didn't do it on purpose.” House-Elves would never even dare risk an
accidental food poisoning, but neither Tracey nor Blaise thought much of them, so they accepted
this answer.

“Well, do you want us to help you to the next class? Your face is so pale...”

“No, no,” Harry brushed them off. “I'll swing by Madame Pomfrey's to see if there's
anything I can do, but I'll meet you in class after, okay?”

“Just don't give whatever you have to me,” Blaise shrugged, pulling against the bag strap on
his shoulder. “Come on Trace. I have to talk to you some more about Daphne.”

Tracey rolled her eyes but didn't leave right away. She placed a cool hand against his
flushed cheek. He did his best not to wince as she frowned. “Please go straight to Pomfrey. Are you
sure you don't need help?”

This time, Harry waved them away with his hand. “Get out of here. I”ll see that monster herself.
You know she'll never let you hang around anyways.”

“Let Harry go, Trace. He's a big boy. Pomfrey isn't going to steal him away from
you.”

Tracey lingered for a moment, but she followed Blaise along, casting one lingering look behind
her to make sure Harry didn't suddenly collapse. Harry waited until their footsteps were gone
before collapsing, falling over on his hands and knees. Thankfully, he had gotten far enough away
from McGonagall's classroom and crawled to the nearest door to hopefully hide himself.

He wasn't quick enough.

“Potter?”

Hermione Granger was standing about ten feet away from him, her hair nastily bushy and her
book-laden arms crossed in front of her like it was a shield.

*Oh for Merlin's sake. Of all people to show up!* Harry didn't say anything as he
tried to bring himself to his feet, but every movement was like a spear being shoved into his rib
cage. He couldn't even make it a few feet before staggering and leaning against the stone
wall.

She started forward when he first lurched but caught herself, uncertain as to how to react. Her
books were pressed even tighter against her chest, her knuckles visibly white. The conflict was
obvious in her body language and Harry had to chuckle despite the pain it caused to his
abdomen.

“I find nothing amusing about your predicament. You're hurt.” Her famous lack of humor
reared its ugly head.

“I'm fine,” Harry grunted, finally pushing through a wave of pain to stand up straight with
just one hand pressed against the wall. “Go on your way, Granger.”

He held his breath since breathing was an exercise in agony. She took one step, her eyes never
leaving his. It almost looked like she was satisfied with his health, but she took too long and he
could only hold his breath for a limited amount of time.

“Oh fuck me.”

He exhaled and felt a fire go through his passageway and erupt something within his abdomen. His
legs squeezed together and fell from beneath him and only Granger's awkward lunge to keep him
afloat prevented what would have been an unfortunate meeting between his skull and the floor.

“Potter! What is wrong with you?!” She gasped, her books scattered all over the floor as she
awkwardly lowered him to the floor, careful not to go too fast despite his heavier weight.

“Into the classroom,” Harry wheezed. She opened her mouth to reject that order, but closed it
for some odd reason and assisted him into the empty room. Carefully propping him into a chair,
Granger took a step back and placed her hands on her hips as she surveyed his pitiful state.

“What happened to you?” she demanded.

“Got into a fight with the Whomping Willow. It didn't end well.”

“Potter,” she gave an exasperated sigh, “I don't have time for your stupid games. I'm
going to go get Madame Pomfrey or get you to her.”

“No!” Harry placed his arms around his delicate ribs. “No Pomfrey. Just...just give me a
second.”

“I think you're going to need more than a second.”

Harry was silent for a moment, trying to find a way out of this situation that didn't
require explaining the source of his injuries. Granger was annoyingly stubborn and didn't seem
to take no for an answer. Furthermore, her over enhanced concern for his health was putting a
damper on his plan of staying low. *What to do? What to do?*

“Do you know any Healing spells?” he asked.

She shifted uncomfortably. “A few. None that can help you.”

“How do you know it won't help me?”

“I know broken ribs when I see them, Potter.”

*Oh do you?* “They're not broken,” he replied through gritted teeth.

“Maybe not, but you didn't get that just falling down the stairs or anything stupid like
that. Falls usually focus the injuries on the limbs and neck since that is what you usually use to
prevent damage. In order to get sufficient damage to your rib cage, it needs to be exposed. Last
time Potter or I'm leaving. *What...happened?*” She spit the last two words out.

When Harry didn't answer, mostly because he was banking on the second part of her
supposition, Granger gave another tired sigh and shook her head, her bushy hair waving about.

“Fine.” Granger suddenly pulled out her wand from her robes, pointing it at Harry with a
determined expression.

“You don't want to do that, Granger,” Harry warned, despite his injuries.

“Potter, I'm taking you to Pomfrey. You're a stubborn idiot and I know those injuries
weren't from an accident.”

Her diagnosis of his injuries surprised him. Though there was nothing obvious from his physical
appearance, she was still able to analyze him on nothing more than a few hampered movements. It
didn't exactly take Merlin to figure out what was wrong with him, but what surprised him more
was her incessant willingness to get him to Pomfrey. What had he done to earn him such a persistent
faux-healer?

“You know very well I'm capable of disarming you.”

*And here comes the arrogance.*

“Granger, I'm warning you.”

“You can warn me all you want. Go ahead. I'll let you get your wand.”

It was no use. Even if he was able to get his wand in time, his defensive spell or any sort of
spell would wreak all sorts of havoc on his injured body. She had him pinned and there was nothing
he could do to prevent her from disarming him. *Does my reputation really cost so much that I
would fight to keep myself from Pomfrey?*

But then Harry thought of the four people who had taken turns kicking him while he was on the
ground. To him, they were just nameless faces intent on sending a message. But to them, he was a
symbol of his superiority over them. They didn't have to be in Granger's House to know that
he had gone to the Hospital Wing. *Is it worth it?*

Apparently he had no choice.

That is until Tracey opened the door, her face contorted with alarm as she observed the awkward
scene in front of her, Harry slumped in a chair with Granger pointing her wand at him. Blaise's
head appeared above and behind Tracey's, just as perplexed. It took all of seven seconds for
Tracey to get her wand out and even less time to start throwing accusations.

“Why you conniving, little Gryffindor witch,” Tracey snarled at her.

“I want you to try, Davis. If you're as good as dueling as you are at math, this should be a
treat.” Hermione sneered back at her.

“Um, Harry?” Blaise questioned.

Harry's vision was swimming, the two girls in front of him coming in and out of view. His
grip tightened against the side of the chair but it was no use.

“Oh fuck me,” Harry said as he tumbled off the chair and fell into a merciful
unconsciousness.

* * * *

“...severe damage to his abdomen! You can't possibly expect me to...”

“...necessary for the program. He will recover...”

“...and what about next time, Severus? What about...”

“...I want no word of this to...”

“...and his friends? What do we...”

“...not to mention rampant instability and dangerous...”

“...I want no more arguments, he is to...”

Harry didn't remember exactly what the people were saying around him as he swam in and out
of consciousness. All he could feel was the soothing and warm buzz around his ribs as the spell
repaired them. Black dots precipitated his vision as he opened his eyes to the sound of silence.
The bleak, white ceiling and curtains told him he was in the Hospital Wing despite all of his
efforts to avoid it.

“Hello, Mr. Potter,” the smooth, oily voice confronted him.

“Professor,” Harry grunted, turning his head to see Headmaster Snape sitting in a chair next to
his beside.

“How are you feeling?” Snape always asked that in such a way to indicate he didn't really
care but a response was necessary nonetheless.

“Pleasant.”

“I would hope as much. Madame Pomfrey has informed me of your injuries. Would you like to tell
me how you got them?” Snape avoided his eyes as he asked this question.

“I fell down some stairs. They went left when I wanted to go right,” Harry answered.

“These stairs must have been animated to deliver such hefty damage.”

“I think they had it in for me. Maybe you should get that sort of thing checked out around
here.”

“And these stairs...did you know what floor they were on and why Hermione Granger was with Tracy
Davis and Blaise Zabini when they found you?”

“My memory seems to be a bit hazy. I'm sorry, Professor. I think I was on the fourth or
fifth floor?” Harry postured some more, taking some amusement with Snape's not so subtle
hints.

“Mr. Potter.” Harry could almost hear a sigh in Snape's voice. “I understand your need for
discretion. In such a highly competitive environment, any weakness can be perceived as exploitable,
but the truth will not escape these curtains. Your injuries indicate a higher severity than a
simple fall down the stairs. Rest assured, those responsible will be brought forward.”

It would have been so easy to just tell the Headmaster what happened, but Harry felt something
amiss. *Is this another test? Is he trying to see how I handle this situation as well?* There
were little upsides to telling Snape. He would be seen as a weak tattle-tale, incapable of
defending himself and running to the nearest teacher for help. His fellow Slytherins wouldn't
respect him for that.

“I'm sorry, Professor. I don't know what you're talking about.”

There was only a slight pursing of Snape's lips that Harry couldn't quite discern. Was
it annoyance? Disappointment? Either way, Snape didn't look very happy.


“Very well, Mr. Potter. I assume that if any stars try to change directions again, you will come
straight to Madame Pomfrey?” Snape asked with an arched eyebrow.

“I'll probably try and make sure I avoid that staircase from now on.”

“See to it that you do.” Snape abruptly stood up from the chair, pushing open the curtains with
both hands and sweeping out dramatically. He did it all in one smooth movement and Harry had to
wonder if he practiced such an exit.

The Headmaster left and Blaise and Tracey soon appeared, opening the drawn curtains to see him.
Blaise whistled lowly as he saw all the potions and remedies Harry had to take, as well as the wrap
tied securely around his mid-section.

“Damn, Harry.”

Suddenly, a panic overtook Harry. *Did they see me with my shirt off? Do they know about the
scars?*

Even if they didn't, surely the Headmaster and Madame Pomfrey must have known. After all,
someone had to take off his shirt in order to see the damage. If they did that, surely they would
notice the multiple scars on his back. He kept his back firmly against the bed, unwilling to let
them see *that*.

“Why didn't you tell us?” Tracey asked.

“What's there to tell?” Harry shrugged and as he did, he was pleased to find that it
didn't hurt. In fact, all of the small movements that had pained him so earlier didn't
inflict nearly as much pain now.

“For starters, it looked like someone was taking a Beater bat to your stomach,” Blaise
answered.

There was no point in lying anymore. Harry told them the story of the previous night, omitting
the more grizzly details. Still, Tracey's face paled considerably as she sat down where Snape
previously resided. Even Blaise, known for being brutally remorseless, gulped uncomfortably as
Harry described how they kicked him when he was down.

“Harry...that's awful,” Tracey clasped her hands over her mouth, her blue eyes wide as
saucers.

“Does anyone else know? About my visit here?”

“Granger. She left a little while ago, but left you this.” Blaise procured a single parchment
and handed it to Harry.

Harry looked down at the parchment with keen curiosity. His name was scrawled on the top as
“Potter, H.” but that was all that he could read. The rest of it was written in illegible shorthand
and looked nothing like the English language. There were numbers strewn all over the parchment, but
none of them repeated to show a pattern. It was a cipher, cryptic and mysterious. The torn edges on
the side indicated that it was definitely part of a set.

“She said you would know what it was for...” Tracey spoke slowly, her face guarded but her tone
telling it all.

*It's how she beat me*.

“I don't know what it is,” Harry answered, neatly folding the paper and placing it on his
bedside table.

“It took me a while to calm Tracey down enough not to hex Granger on the spot. At first she
thought that the Griff did something to you,” Blaise explained.

“She didn't. Just poor timing,” Harry kept his answers succinct when it came to Granger. “No
one can know about why I was here. Make up something and stick with the original story, I got food
poisoning. If anyone finds out why I'm here, they're going to...”

Harry didn't have to answer as Blaise and Tracey could both figure out why. Still, Tracey
shook her head, the little ringlets covering her face.

“What about the four guys that did this to you?” she asked.

“Leave them to me. I have an idea about who they are.”

“Who are they? I'm not as good at dueling as you, but I know a few tricks and a few people,”
Blaise said.

“I can't say right now, I need some more time. Just make sure that you tell everyone that I
got sick of the food. They might not believe me and it might not matter if my attackers were from
other Houses.”

“*If?* You're not implying that someone from Slytherin attacked you, are you?” Tracey
bewilderedly wondered.

“It's unlikely, but I'm not ruling out anything. Besides, we already know one Slytherin
that doesn't like me.”

“But even Malfoy wouldn't...” Tracey trailed off.

“Are you sure about that?” Harry arched his own eyebrow this time. “Can you two do this for
me?”

Blaise nodded, more comfortable with the lie than Tracey. “I'll make a big show about you
getting sick. Maybe it'll knock you down a few pegs on the Master List so people can start
taking action on you again. Do you want me to spread anything else?”

Harry thought for a moment but found nothing for Blaise to dissemble. “No, leave it like that
for now. I don't want to start creating a convoluted story. First, I find the people that did
this and then we can work on a cover.”

“We,” Tracey corrected. “We will find out who did this to you.”

“Of course, of course.” Harry waved his hand dismissively.

Their meeting was interrupted by Madame Pomfrey, looking as terse as Harry had ever seen her.
All of them had gone to the Hospital Wing at some point in time for some superficial injuries, but
nothing that required an overnight stay or serious healing.

“I need to talk to Mr. Potter alone.” When Pomfrey talk, everyone listened.

Blaise and Tracey nodded, the latter leaving slowly as she explained that she would take care of
everything. After they were gone, Pomfrey silently tended to him, performing diagnostics with her
spells as well as making him drink copious and disgusting potions. She had her lips held tightly
together as if she wanted to say something but kept herself from doing so.

“I'm guessing you saw them.” Harry saw no point in circling around the problem.

“I saw nothing, Potter. Just as I'm sure that no one did anything.” Her voice was strict and
harsh, her old face lined with disgust.

There was another momentary silence as Harry awkwardly stayed still while Pomfrey's wand was
waved over him.

“It was a long time ago, you know.”

She didn't answer until she was finally done with her medical tests.

“I'm a Healer, Potter. Wounds don't lie and neither do scars.”

* * * * *

Harry was released from the Hospital Wing in the middle of the night without much fanfare.
Still, he waited for Blaise and Tracey to arrive so they could accompany him to the Slytherin
Common Room. Tracey had her wand out the whole way and Harry could tell she was a bit on edge from
every shadow and noise. Somehow, Harry knew that the bullies wouldn't attack all three of them.
Their problem was with him, not Blaise and Tracey.

Despite the potential fallout from a known visit to the Hospital Wing, Harry felt much better
about his body. Everything seemed to be healed and there were no broken bones as Granger thought.
The folded parchment was tucked neatly into his pocket and after Pomfrey had left, he had taken
some time to review it. From what he could tell, there was no obvious way to crack Granger's
shorthand, but she wouldn't have given it to him if he wouldn't be able to crack it all. He
would need a quill and some parchment to figure it out and even then, he wasn't confident.
Analyzing dueling and battle abilities were one thing, deciphering a code was another.

He didn't mention the cryptic parchment Granger had given him to Blaise and Tracey. Blaise
was curious about the note and its belongings, but Tracey was more concerned about the intentions
behind it. Truth be told, Harry didn't know the intentions behind it either. Why would Granger
give him the obvious path to her success? Tracey and Blaise would catch on eventually, but only
Harry knew of their little conversations. Granger had delivered her key to victory against her
opponent. *What are you up to Granger?*

Intending to find the answer to that question, Harry made a few low-key inquiries on
Granger's usual whereabouts. Her location was rather obvious.

The library.

As he walked through the hallways, he made sure to note reactions from people in his year.
People always glanced at him as he walked by, most eyes flicking towards the lightning bolt scar on
his forehead. While Harry didn't think himself as paranoid, he couldn't help but think that
the kids in his year were staring at him differently. Most people regarded him with a strange
curiosity or obvious resentment if one was a Gryffindor.

Yet, there was something else in everyone's expression today.

They looked at him as if they were sizing him up, measuring his ability. A few Ravenclaws and
Gryffindors even looked down at him, radiating with obvious confidence. If Harry had any questions
on whether others knew about the true reason behind his visit to the Hospital Wing, a quick walk
down the hallway answered that for him. His attackers were in at least two other Houses and while
the Hufflepuffs didn't usually look upon him with disdain, he couldn't rule them out
either. Then, there was the problem of Malfoy. He was one of the few people that refused to let
Harry have an easy time. *Would Malfoy really go so far as to attack me with people from other
Houses?* That answer seemed to be no, but Harry wasn't sure anymore.

Blaise had done his best to loudly and obnoxiously make fun of Harry for getting sick over food
and while there were a few amused chuckles from the rest of the Slytherins, the other Houses simply
looked at him disbelievingly. They knew. And Harry knew they knew. It was just a matter of finding
out who they were now.

Still, there were other things on Harry's agenda for the day.

Granger was tucked into the corner of the library, her desk preoccupied with dozens of books
sprawled about. She was alone, of course, her nose almost touching the page of a book as she read
and wrote at the same time. Harry leaned against a shelf, observing for a moment and not wanting to
disrupt her infamous concentration.

“Figured it out yet, Potter?” she asked without looking up.

“You know I haven't. You mind giving me a hint?”

“No.”

*Could she be any less blunt?*

Harry didn't come closer or pull out a chair to sit on. Still leaning against the shelf, he
crossed his arms and asked, “Why'd you give it to me anyways? What's your game,
Granger?”

She finally lifted her head from the book, her quill stopping mid-word. Her chocolate brown eyes
regarded him coolly, but Harry could detect the smallest hint of...sympathy?

“I had no more use for those notes. I figured you'd need them.”

“You took notes on me?”

“Don't be flattered,” she scoffed, “I take notes on everyone.”

“But that doesn't answer the question of why you would give it to me,” Harry rebutted.

She shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. “You give me a challenge, Potter. It would be a waste
if you didn't keep up.”

Harry snorted. “Does the rest of your House know you're this arrogant?”

“I don't care what the rest of Gryffindor thinks of me.” *A lie*, Harry thought.

“And what are they going to think if they find out that you're giving a Slytherin some
help?”

Looking up from her book again, Hermione shook her head at him. “Not everyone in Gryffindor
hates you, you know. They see you as their top competition and it doesn't help that your
friends throw petty insults at them very time.”

“Weasley starts it half the time.”

“Ron exacerbates the situation, but I don't see you doing anything to quell it.”

*“*He's fun to wind up.”

Hermione rolled her eyes at this and ignored him. It looked as if Granger wasn't about to
give him a hint or clue on how to decipher her parchment anytime soon.

“Do *you* hate me?”

Her quill stopped scribbling, but she didn't look up. “No, Potter. Not yet.”

Harry smiled at that, laughing to himself. “What book are you reading anyways?”

“You wouldn't know it. It's a Muggle book.”

“Try me.”

“It's called *Ender's Game*.”

“Never heard of it.”

“I figured.”

A movement out of the corner of his eyes caused Harry to turn around. Neville Longbottom, arms
filled with books huffed and puffed as he carefully navigated the messy pile and found some room to
set the stack of books down.

“Got all of them, Hermione. I couldn't find the ones about...”

Longbottom trailed off as Granger made a show of looking at Harry. Harry raised his eyebrows at
him as a form of hello.

“Oh,” Longbottom's mouth formed a perfect O. “P-p-p-otter. What are you doing here?”

Harry had to bite back an amused chuckle and the glare from Granger told him that she would be
none too pleased with him taking the mickey out of Longbottom.

“Just leaving,” Harry answered. “Thanks again, Granger.”

As he left, he could hear Longbottom's voice before he got out of earshot.

“What's he thanking *you* for?!”

* * * * *
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7. Uncontrollable
-----------------



The bruises healed quickly, eventually disappearing with the aid of Pomfrey's potions.
Blaise kept his ears open for any word of subterfuge, but it appeared as if none of their fellow
Slytherins harbored that much ill-will towards the Boy Who Lived. That being said, it was just as
conceivable that they were aware of Blaise's soft investigation and kept their mouths shut.
They were in Slytherin for a reason after all.

Yet, Blaise still came up with something.

“I paid off a couple First Years...” Blaise started.

“Paid off?” Tracey interrupted.

“Yes, paid off.” Blaise waved her off impatiently. “How do you think I get people to talk? I got
them to start talking and while they could have just been making it all up, they all report a lot
of activity in the other House's dorm rooms the night they jumped you, Harry.”

“All of the Houses?” Harry mused.

“Yes. All except for Slytherin. We're as close as we can to ruling out any Slytherins from
this. I don't think even Malfoy would have the stomach.”

“You're right. Physical violence isn't his style. At least, not when he's doing the
kicking. Crabbe and Goyle maybe but none of them were that big. They were all of average height
and, for the most part, I couldn't recognize their voices. Malfoy definitely wasn't the
leader.”

The blond boy in question was sitting on the other side of the Common Room, sprawled out on a
plush, leather couch. Harry, Blaise, and Tracey were in the corner of the room. Harry was leaning
against the wall, keeping an eye on everyone while Tracey sat in a chair next to him and Blaise
knelt on the floor beside a table. Presently, it was roughly a week after Harry's trip to
Pomfrey and their classes had rotated from Ravenclaws to Hufflepuffs in Battle class.

Harry's efforts to crack the cypher on Granger's cryptic page were fruitless so far.
There weren't any discernible patterns in her shorthand even after Harry had summoned the books
necessary for research in that regard. Most of the theories were over his head. He was never the
best at solving logic and riddles, traits that were probably needed for Ravenclaws. Unfortunately,
he couldn't consult anyone on the topic lest he reveal Granger's secret. Part of him
thought that Granger was probably just having a laugh at him and that the hieroglyphics meant
nothing, but she didn't strike him as the type for practical jokes.

“But all of the other Houses?” Harry continued his line of questioning. “Even the
Gryffindors?”

“Yes. Furthermore, Granger was out too that night.”

“It wasn't Granger.” Harry shook his head.

“How do you know that?” Tracey asked.

“It's not her style. She beats me in Battle class, not jumping me with three other people in
a dark hallway.”

“Say, what'd you ever do with that note she gave you? It didn't make any sense to me,”
Blaise wondered.

*What's the harm?*

He kept it in his back pocket at all times, fearful that anyone would discover it. It was a
paranoid thought and, truth be told, others were just as unlikely to crack the code as he was.
Still, it comforted him to keep it there and as he pulled it out, he missed the surprised looks on
both of their faces.

“Here,” Harry handed it to them. “Maybe you'll have better luck at it than me.”

Tracey snatched it out of his hand quickly, scanning the page and bringing it so close to her
face that the tip of her nose was touching the parchment. Her eyes squinted, the blue of her eyes
just barely visible as she tried to make sense of the gibberish. She shook her head after a moment,
handing it to Blaise.

“I don't understand why she gave it to you in the first place. What is it?”

“I don't really know. I think it might be a spell or something or maybe the spell she used
to make a copy of herself. Either way, I haven't been able to crack it.”

“There doesn't seem to be a pattern of any sort.” Blaise ran his pointer finger across the
words on the paper, his dark skin scrunched together in thought. “I don't see anything either,
Harry.”

Recovering the inscrutable parchment, Harry folded it neatly and stuck it in his back pocket
with a sigh. “I don't want to have to talk to her, but this is frustrating to me. What is this
thing?”

“I think she's just playing with your head. Trying to throw you off so she can cheat and
beat you again,” Tracey said.

“She didn't cheat,” Harry said dismissively.

“Maybe not, but it wasn't fair.”

Their discussion came to an abrupt end as a bell rang for them to return to class. They were
heading to Moody's Dueling class, paired up with Ravenclaws for this particular lesson. The
herd moved about, the senior students moving effortlessly around their smaller counterparts. Harry
led the way, moving craftily through the crowd. The banners of lists hung above his head and Harry
spotted himself on the Master List at 27th. Scanning the columns, Harry found the Third Years list
and saw Slytherin was first for the time being with Gryffindor second, Hufflepuff third, and
Ravenclaw last.

Preoccupied with the standings, Harry bumped into a solid mass, throwing both of them off
balance. Whoever it was, a Hufflepuff by the look of his robes, mumbled an apology and kept on
moving with his group. Curious, Harry chanced a look back to see who it was but his back was
already to him. Still, he could identify him by the hair and watched as that boy tried to hide an
obvious limp. It was almost too small to notice, but Harry could see it from his vantage point.
That boy was definitely favoring his right foot, the same right foot that Harry had rolled over in
a vain attempt to escape the bullies.

*Justin Finch-Fletchley*.

* * * * * * *

Harry was poor during Dueling class and Moody noticed it, barking and yelling at him frequently
as they continued to try and master the art of nonverbal spells. While he accomplished the task of
nonverbally casting a Stinging Hex easily, he had more difficulty trying cast multiple spells in a
row. While Harry was convinced that he could have easily performed under normal circumstances, his
mind was wandering to that awkward gait of Justin Finch-Fletchley.

He had to be one of the four.

It was by pure coincidence and accident that Harry had run into him, yet it revealed all he
needed to know. Justin Finch-Fletchley, he of the supposedly genial Hufflepuff House, was one of
his attackers. But it didn't make any sense to him. He tried to think of anything he could have
personally done to the Hufflepuff but found nothing of note. At worst, he had defeated him during
one of the Battle class, but he had been victorious over several people during Battle class and not
all of them had taken to accosting him in the middle of the night.

It was almost inconceivable to him that Finch-Fletchley could be one of the bullies yet who else
would have their ankle untreated for so long to still have a limp? It was near damning evidence in
Harry's eyes and his blood boiled a bit as he thought about it, causing his Stinging Hex to
have a little extra purchase on it.

“Ah, shit!” Tracey yelped, flailing her hand.

“Oh bollocks. I'm sorry, Trace,” Harry apologized, lowering his wand and approaching her
remorsefully.

“What's wrong with you today? You're all off.”

He walked closer to her until he was standing side by side. Moody was yelling at Lisa Turpin
about something or the other, so Harry figured he had some down time to chat. Pretending to show
her the wand movement, Harry whispered, “I think I found one of them.”

Tracey's blue eyes widened and she furtively looked around to see if anyone was paying
attention to them. Blaise was partnered up with Daphne, so he was beyond approach while everyone
else seemed busy with their spells.

“Who?”

“Justin Finch-Fletchley,” Harry muttered as low as he could, making a show of waving his
wand.

“Finch-Fletchley,” Tracey scoffed disbelievingly. “You can't possibly think that a
Hufflepuff would...”

“Hufflepuffs aren't any different from other Houses. I'm sure they have a bad egg or
two.”

“But Finch-Fletchley.” Tracey still couldn't quite believe it.

“I'm forming a plan to find out more, but be careful, alright? I don't want them coming
after you.”

“It's you they're after, Harry.” She turned to him, dropping all pretense of faking a
spell. “Don't walk alone at night and don't spend as much time in Trow's classroom.
That's how they're going to catch you.”

“I know, I know.” Harry ran a hand through his hair, eager to get out of the classroom and
investigate the matter.

“Love birds! Get back to work before I send both of ya to detention!” Moody hollered from the
other side of the room, making Harry and Tracey burn red as their classmates laughed and teased
them.

They had a free period next, so after informing Blaise of Harry's suspicions, they asked a
few First Years again and found that the Hufflepuffs were just exiting from Transfigurations. It
would be terribly conspicuous if all three of them were tailing the Hufflepuff group so Tracey
volunteered to walk as if she were heading in the same direction. Harry and Blaise tailed behind
her by quite some distance.

Their sleuthing proved unremarkable however. Justin did nothing more than hang out with his
friends, Ernie MacMillan and Susan Bones. After classes were over, they headed to the lake for a
nice sit down on a breezy day. Winter had not yet befallen upon Hogwarts so there was some time
still before the grounds were covered with tightly packed snow. Harry, Blaise, and Tracey sat off
some distance, pretending to be engrossed in their conversation. Yet, after all that time, Justin
didn't even glance their way.

“Are you sure it's Finch-Fletchley?” Blaise was the most skeptical of them. “I don't
know if he has the balls to kick you.”

“You saw his limp, didn't you?”

“It is there.” Tracey pointed out.

“It could be from a number of things. Maybe he tripped over some stairs like you did, Harry.”
Blaise pointed out.

“No,” Harry shook his head. “It's gotta be him.”

*I need to have a lead somewhere*.

So unknown to either Blaise or Tracey, Harry did start forming a plan. Later that night, as they
retired to their bedrooms, Harry laid in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. There was nothing he
could do but wait until the rhythmic sounds of breathing filled the room. He held his wand to his
chest, his ankles crossed below him and his arms crossed in front of him. The soft sighs and
movements of his sleeping dorm mates filled the void and it was around 11 when Harry decided to
move.

Still fully dressed, Harry slipped his shoes on and walked towards the door. He paused in front
of it, sparing a look at Malfoy's curtains. They were drawn together, like everyone else's,
but Harry remained there for a minute, trying to gauge if the rich, blond Slytherin was behind it.
There was no way to tell. For now, it seemed as if Malfoy was in the clear.

Exiting, Harry crept along the railing, confirming that no one was in the Common Room. It was
late and the only people that were up were a few Seventh Years that didn't care if he left.
Taking great care to stay quiet, Harry left the Common Room without looking back.

Even at night, the castle wasn't asleep. Soft murmurs of ghosts and piping were a constant
hum in the background and there were still a few students and more than a fair share of teachers
patrolling the hallways. Harry avoided them easily as their footsteps loudly preceded them. Still,
he sought to be careful to avoid the teachers and patrols. Yet, he wanted to be found, not by the
patrols, but by the bullies.

The timing of their attack wasn't a mistake. Obviously they knew of his schedule and habits,
particularly his proclivity to be found in Trow's classroom on late nights. It stood to be
reasoned that they would also know the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room judging by the
interception of his route. While Malfoy might not have been actively involved in the beating, it
was just as likely that he gave them information on the route Harry would take to return from
Trow's classroom.

Loud footsteps clattered along the ground and Harry pressed himself into an alcove, waiting for
the patrol to walk by. It was a Hufflepuff Prefect by the looks of it, but not Finch-Fletchley. No,
the attackers would be quiet and try to sneak up on him if they were awake at this hour. Harry knew
that it was unlikely they would be out at this random time of night. Most likely, they would try to
attack him again when they knew he was anywhere else but the Slytherin Common Room. It would take
too much time and resources to plant someone outside of the Common Room at all times. Still, Harry
was searching.

Another patrol passed and Harry melted into the darkness once again, careful to take off his
glasses so a random light wouldn't reflect off it and give away his position. The patrols were
steady, a mix of Prefects and professors, but nothing Harry couldn't handle. Still awaiting
some sort of stealthy movement, Harry was about to give up and retire to his room when he heard a
humming.

It was a small girl, had to be a First or Second year since Harry didn't know her. She was
clutching something to her chest, walking placidly and humming a tune to herself. It was quite odd,
if Harry were to be truthful, but he avoided her nonetheless. To his great surprise, three bodies
emerged from the bottom of a staircase, blocking this girl's way.

“Well, well, if it isn't Loony Lovegood.” One of them said in an obviously mocking tone.

The small girl froze, clutching whatever it was even closer against her chest. The two others
fanned out to either side, effectively trapping her. Harry knew the formation they were taking and
reasoned that they didn't just want a night time chat with this girl.

“What's she got in her hands, Roger?” The older girl asked the speaker.

“It's another weird conglomeration, Marietta,” said the other boy.

The one named Roger laughed as he took a step closer to the little girl. The little girl hummed
to herself, the tune seemingly faster as she took a matching step back. Harry was unaware of how
hard he was holding his wand.

“It's okay, Loony. I just want to see what you've got there,” Roger cooed as Marietta
snickered. Harry couldn't match the names to the faces as he hardly interacted with any of the
older years.

Loony mumbled something and Roger knelt down with an innocent look on your face. “What was that,
Loony?”

“You're going to take it again,” she whispered.

“Now Loony.” Roger tutted. “Be logical. If I wanted to take it, I would have just grabbed it out
of your hand. We both know I'm stronger than you. Now be reasonable and let me see it. I just
want to know what you made this time.”

But Loony didn't move, her head tucked down as she kept humming that unrecognizable tune to
herself. The sliver of light shining through one of the windows cast it directly on her, setting
her in the spotlight as the three older students, Ravenclaws Harry assumed, surrounded her.

“Oh give it her, Lovegood,” Marietta impatiently stepped forward, snatching the jingling object
out of her hands.

It looked to be some sort of necklace made out of bottle caps. When Marietta realized this, she
chuckled lowly, swinging it around her finger.

“Be careful with it, please,” Loony pleaded in a soft voice.

“You're going to break the poor girl's heart, Marietta,” the unidentified boy said.

“Oh shut up, Belby, I'm just having a little fun.”

Marietta kept twirling it around her finger, the light of the moon occasionally flashing off one
of the bottle caps. Hopefully, this was the extent of their teasing, intentionally malevolent but
light hearted in objectivity. After all, there were ways to be attacked in the middle of the
night.

“Can I have it back?” Loony asked.

“Well, I have it so its mine. Don't you know the rules of ownership, Loony?” Marietta
mocked.

“But I *made* it.”

“Did you now? But I think you gave it to me, unless you're saying I'm stealing it from
you. Am I stealing it from you, Loony?”

There was a quiet silence, the soft whirl of the necklace of bottle caps whirling around
constituting as the background noise. In a soft whisper, a thing would have been unrecognizable
with just another modicum of noise, Loony said, “Yes.”

The necklace of bottle caps fell to the ground, a noise that, in the moment, seemed loud enough
to wake the castle. Marietta was no longer smiling and Roger was shaking his head with a small grin
on his face.

“You're calling me a thief? That's very disingenuous of you, Loony. I'm no thief and
you have no grounds to call me that.” Marietta produced her wand and Belby chuckled, stepping out
of the way to avoid any collateral damage.

“You stole my necklace,” Loony said in a wobbly voice.

“I did nothing of the sort. I have two witnesses here that say I didn't steal anything.”

“She didn't.”

“I didn't see a thing.”

Roger and Belby chimed in at the same exact moment, watching the torment with a tired but amused
grin. From the looks of it, this was not their first time exacting this sort of punishment on a
girl who had done nothing more than walk back to her Common Room. Harry thought of Dudley and the
games he would play when they were back at home. Every answer would always be negative and even
when he kept his mouth shut, Dudley would find some way to say that he was insulting him. Marietta
was no different.

Harry could easily just let this happen. The worst thing they could do was hit her with some
spell, but Harry doubted it would be anything meaningful. They were just toying with her, enjoying
their power over her, but they wouldn't do anything for lasting damage. After all, Loony needed
to be around next time. He could have just let this moment pass and go on undetected in his mission
to find another set of bullies.

But he wasn't going to find that other group tonight.

“Give it back to the girl.”

Harry stepped out of the shadows, his robes draped around him as he stood with his back to the
moonlight. The added effect obscured his face and his body, allowing him to hide the fact that he
already had his wand out beneath the sleeve of his robes. He could see Marietta and Roger squinting
at him as well as finally seeing Loony's face.

She was a blond girl with large eyes, eyes larger than anyone else's. Underneath her robes,
her clothes were an assortment of colors and she was already wearing a strange necklace and some
other assorted jewelry that other girls would never have worn. He could see why people picked on
her.

“Potter?” Roger asked aloud. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you three the same, but I think we all know what you're doing. Give it back to
the girl, Marietta.” The warning sounded more threatening in his head. Aloud, it was just a squeaky
voice.

“Potter, get out of here. This is inter-house business,” Belby ordered.

“It seems you don't do a good job of taking care of your own house.”

“You little shit. I always hated Slytherins.” Marietta was totally ignoring Loony at this rate,
an accomplishment so far.

“And I always hated ugly people. Guess we're both stuck there.” Harry shrugged
ineffectually.

From an early age, Harry realized that attacking a strength was a decent ploy. Marietta was
pretty, to an objective and unseasoned eye, and any threat of that attractiveness was seen as an
immediate affront. Roger, obviously older than the other two, must have realized what Harry was
doing. Yet, he was a little too late.

“Marietta, don't!” He cried, but there was no stopping her.

“*Stupefy!”*

It was an obvious spell, so transparent that Harry had already begun planning his next series of
spells before she even said it. Marietta, he could handle. Just from that brief moment of torture
she had enacted on Loony, Harry knew she was impatient and uncontrolled. Though her mark was on
target, Harry produced a weak shield and ducked to simply deflect it. He shot back with a
Jelly-Legs Jinx, but that wasn't his true intention. In a successive motion, he swept his wand
upwards, dousing her with a spray of water that provoked a shrill scream.

He didn't mean to stun her. He meant to embarrass her.

“Roger! Do something!” Marietta screamed.

But Roger balked, looking warily at Harry. Unlike Marietta, this one had a brain.

*So its true that Ravenclaws are at least somewhat intelligent*.

“Roger! Belby!” She stamped her foot, her hair stringy and ratty from the water.

Roger conferred with Belby, whispering behind a cupped hand while he kept his eyes on Harry.
Harry relaxed his posture somewhat, his wand still at his side and the moon to his back, obscuring
him slightly. After a moment, Roger broke the impromptu conference.

“Get out of here, Potter,” he ordered.

“Don't tell him to get out of here, *punish him!*” She was apoplectic, sure to attract
a Prefect or a professor.

“Shut up, Marietta!” Roger yelled back at her. “There's no point in continuing this and your
stupid screams are going to wake every professor up and send them this way.” Turning to Harry, he
took a deep breath after he finished berating his fellow Ravenclaw. “Go, Potter. We'll leave
Lovegood alone.”

But Harry kept his ground, intent on sending a message. It wasn't enough that they would
leave her alone this time. “Excuse me if I don't believe you.”

“Potter...” Roger impatiently growled, “...this is none of your business.”

“But it's our business now.”

Tracey appeared from behind them, her wand drawn and unlike Harry, she had it pointed at the
older Ravenclaws. Blaise and Pansy flanked her, their wands drawn but more apprehensive looks on
their faces. Only Tracey seemed unfazed, but Harry knew the older Ravenclaws were more than capable
of handling her. All together though, they stood a fighting chance.

“Oh you have to be shitting me. Roger! These are a bunch of Third Years! Let's take care of
them,” Marietta pointed her wand at Tracey.

It was Belby who intervened.

“Roger, let's go,” he said quietly. “The situation isn't in our favor.”

*So Ravenclaws are capable of thought.*

And Harry knew that Belby wasn't talking tactically. It was three versus four, but Belby and
Marietta were both Fourth Years and Harry knew that Roger Davies was definitely a Fifth Year or
higher. Stronger and more experienced, they could give them a good fight even outnumbered. But
Belby was talking about overall justification. Their original reasons for leaving the Common Room
so late at night was kaput and since there was no point in tormenting Lovegood in front of others,
it was a zero sum situation for them.

“Let's go, Marietta,” Roger said with ice in his voice and a glare sent in Harry's
direction.

Her mouth dropped, droplets of water falling from her drenched robes. “You can't be
serious!”

“*Now*, Marietta,” Roger ordered one more time, ascending the staircase without looking
back. Belby was lone gone up the stairwell.

Four against one, Marietta wasn't so confident.

She sent a withering look at Lovegood, a promise that she would pay later for this intervention,
but fellowed the older Ravenclaws until they were out of sight. Once she was finally gone, Harry
relaxed the grip on his wand and sighed. Lovegood immediately rushed over to the puddle of water,
picking up her necklace of bottle caps and holding it tightly against her chest. Tracey approached
Harry, a none too happy look on her face.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Harry chirped.

“I'll have time to yell at you later, you stupid ass. We need to get out of here before
professor's arrive.”

Harry nodded once, accepting that *his* bullies weren't out tonight. Pansy and and
Blaise were already walking forward as lookouts. Turning to Tracey, Harry asked, “How'd you
find me anyways?”

Tracey huffed, “Pansy saw you leaving the Common Room as she was on her way back -”

“What was *she* doing out?”

“Snogging someone.”

“Who?”

“Does it matter?!” Tracey threw her hands in the air. “After wandering around for a while, we
heard screaming and yelling and came your way.”

Harry opened his mouth to ask another question but a floaty voice stopped him.

“Harry!”

It was Lovegood, chasing after them with something clutched in her hand. It wasn't the
necklace of bottle caps, but a neatly folded parchment.

“You dropped this,” she said breathlessly.

“Oh.” Harry immediately snatched it from her hand. “Why...errr...thank you.”

“And thanks,” she mumbled quietly. “You didn't have to do that.”

Tracey was tugging at his arm as Blaise ran his finger in a circle, the universal motion for,
*get a move on!* But Harry wanted to leave one morsel of advice for this girl.

“Don't show fear, Loony. Especially to Marietta.”

Her lower lip trembled, obtusely wide eyes as large as saucers. “But I'm not as good as
dueling as you.”

“You don't have to be,” Harry explained, “You'll probably lose, but they won't like
it. They won't like it one bit if you're not scared.”

He knew the lesson sounded paradoxical. Why tell her to be scared if he knew she would continued
to be picked on. Yet, it was when Harry stood in the face of Dudley and it was when he didn't
cry or show fear to Vernon that enraged them the most. They bullied him to feel powerful and
nothing felt as powerless as ineffectiveness.

“You'll understand,” Harry patted her on the head and turned away with Tracey's
insistence.

“Harry! The parchment. I don't know what it means, but all the numbers add up to a 100,”
Luna quickly spit out, aware they had to move on.

“Oh Merlin,” Tracey groaned, forcefully pulling Harry's arm at this point. “Who gives a
bloody damn about Granger's secret parchment.”

*I do*.

The four Slytherins darted back to their Common Room amidst approaching teachers and away from
Luna Lovegood, standing in a puddle of water with a necklace of bottle caps clutched tightly to her
chest.

* * * * * *

“He showed action...and moral courage.”

“Better yet, he knowingly faced adversaries stronger than he. I only wish the Davis girl
wouldn't have interrupted. He underestimates his capabilities. Edgecombe and Belby would have
been defeated and he would have given Davies a challenge.”

“He's not ready for that just yet. Strongest in his Year? By far, but power grows with
maturity. His body is still learning.”

“I only wish that the Muggleborn girl weren't so involved. His obsession with her
child's notes are cumbersome to his learning.”

“But he's learning to think differently and once he cracks her simple code, perhaps he will
be more perceptive to critical awareness instead of overpowering all of his opponents.”

“Her notes have no application outside of this school. She is limited and I don't know why
you insist with her.”

“She is *different*. The boy has surrounded himself with people that say yes to his every
whim. Even the Davis girl can't say no to him, but the Muggleborn girl....she's
different.”

“She's mundane, an act that will quickly be sussed out once everyone discovers her means of
victory. It is not special, just a cheap trick that others are unaware of.”

“I would hardly call it a trick.”

“I don't care what to call it. Once he is done with this stupid exercise, I want no more of
her influence.”

“Come now, she is not dangerous to his learning.”

“Yes, she is.”

“...she won't hurt him.”

“Then what is her purpose? What is the meaning beyond this? Her powers of intellect are
unquestionable, but I can't give him her brain. There is so much to be done and yet you insist
with the Muggleborn.”

“She is *good for him*. She makes him question herself. An ounce of humility will go a long
way to his progress in self-assessment.”

“She will *destroy* him. He will question himself until he's unable to perform in a
duel. He will question himself so much that he will shred apart his strong base. Do you not see how
the Davis girl looks at him?”

“And what are you so afraid in the Muggleborn that you aren't afraid of in Davis?”

“That is not what this is about.”

“It *is* about this! He needs to build relatio-”

“*I DON'T WANT HIM TO BUILD RELATIONSHIPS! I WANT HIM TO SUCCEED!”*

“...I apologize. You are directing this.”

“I am and you have grown too bold. There will come a time when the darkness will return and I
have not rebuilt this school, changed the governing board, and reshaped students for years to come
just to build some inane relationship. He is here for one purpose and for one purpose only.”

“I understand...”

“But? I know you mean to interject something here.”

“...I think you may find that it will be more difficult to control Harry Potter than you
think.”

* * * * *

**A/N: Thoughts? Observations? After some research, I concluded Roger Davies to be at least two
years older than Harry. They never quite specify, but he is the oldest Ravenclaw in that
confrontation. The next chapter will deal with a discovery from Harry, a battle between Houses, and
a revelation.**
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8. Bleeding Hearts
------------------



Despite Lovegood's clue, Harry was no closer to cracking the cipher on Hermione's paper.
The stipulation that all the numbers added up to 100 was correct. Granger would list several
numbers in a row, all adding up to a 100, and repeat this process in several other parts of the
neatly divided paper. Still, there was nothing Harry could make of it. At first, he thought it
might have been the instructions for a potion she created to copy herself, but it didn't make
any sense. Ingredients weren't added to a concrete number.

It had to be a calculation of some sort, but what exactly was she trying to calculate and how
was it supposed to lead to his defeat? In this front, Harry had no clue what to do. Maths had never
been his strongest suit during his education with the Dursleys and now years removed from it, he
had no idea on what the numbers could mean. Furthermore, there was no one he could ask in the
Slytherin House since most of them were decidedly Pureblood and left maths and Arithmancy to other
schools. It certainly wasn't studied at Hogwarts.

Harry decided to outsource his solution.

He had very few options. Most of the other students in his year hated him. There were a myriad
of reasons, but Harry concluded that most of the tied in with the fact that he had bested most of
them during duels and Battle class. Furthermore, his placement atop the Master List did him no
favors. The Hufflepuffs would be hesitant to help him while the Gryffindors would have rather
consorted with a centaur than he. Surely, word would have reached around the Ravenclaw tower of his
over exaggerated confrontation with Marietta, Belby, and Roger Davies.

Yet, there was one Ravenclaw that was decidedly indebted to him.

As he set out to find her, he was struck by how much time he spent tracking down people who had
answers to his questions. First, he had asked Trow if he knew of a way that Granger predicted his
spells. Then he went straight to Granger and met a brick wall of nothing. Now, he was cruising
through the corridors of Hogwarts to find an oddball Ravenclaw on a half-baked theory.

Such was the price of winning.

He found her in the Trophy Room, an array of paper strewn around her. She was in the center like
the eye of a hurricane, her eyes closed and her hands folded neatly in her lap across her crossed
legs. While Harry thought nothing wrong of it, he knew how easily odd behavior could be seen as a
target. There was an aura about her that suggests she didn't care about the likes of Marietta,
but Harry suspected that she, like him, felt every barb of their words.

“Luna?” he asked, not wanting to interrupt...whatever she was doing.

She opened only her left eye, smiling a bit as she saw spotted him.

“Harry. It's pleasant to see you again.”

“Errr...” Harry gingerly navigated the maze of jumbled paper as he inched closer to her. “I was
wondering if I could pick your brain for a moment.”

“We Ravenclaws are known for having brains, aren't we? Why is it then that some feel the
need to torment others?”

“Ravenclaws have their bad eggs just like all the other Houses.”

“Even Slytherin?” Luna asked with an expectant eye.

“A few, here or there.” *Malfoy*.

“Let's hope that those people will find some enlightenment and focus their tasks on finding
the missing Hob Goblins of New York,” Luna said, her manner of speaking indicating that she was
dead serious.

“Sure.” Harry shrugged, not knowing how else to respond. Hoping to switch the topic, he asked,
“Do you remember that paper you picked up that night?”

“How could I forget? It was a marvelous piece of cryptography.” Luna thankfully had both of her
eyes open now.

“Well, the thing is, I haven't really gotten any headway on solving it. I was wondering if
you could give it another look and if you could keep all of this...well...”

“Is it privacy you seek?” She asked without pretense.

“Yes.”

Luna nodded to herself, smoothing over the necklace of bottle caps that joined the other
assorted necklaces. “For you, Harry, I can do that.”

A wave of gratitude fell over him. It would do no good if it was known that he was asking a
Second Year Ravenclaw for help on how to defeat Granger. Not only would he lose the respect of the
Slytherin House, he would also be seen as groveling for tips. Perceived weakness, no matter how
silly it may seem, was a danger.

The neatly folded parchment was starting to wear and tear, so Harry had made a copy with a
spell. The original was left in his trunk in the dormitory and he had brought a copy that Luna
could hopefully scribble notes on. She took the paper gracefully, her slim hand holding it
delicately as if it were some sort of ancient artifact.

“Again, I must stress the ingenuity of this cipher,” Luna dreamily mumbled as she cocked her
head to an almost ninety degree angle as she looked at the paper.

“Why is it so genius? Is it some sort of new language?” Harry wondered.

“Not at all,” Luna explained. “The genius of it is that it is Muggle.”

“It's a Muggle code?”

“Yes. And that's why no one *here* would ever solve it. It's only because I study
the excessive use of gamma rays and its usefulness regarding American secrecy that I would ever
know. You see, this is known as Data Encryption Standard.”

“Is that supposed to mean something?”

“No. That's the beauty of it. No one here would ever know what it means, but anyone that
works with technology in the Muggle world would know that its used by all sorts of things. Do you
know what an ATM is?”

“Of course. My Uncle would use it sometimes to get a few quid out.”

“This note, whatever it is, uses the same idea. While I'm sure it's not a bit by bit
encryption, the same logic is applied. In order to decipher this, Harry, you'll need an
electronic device.”

“But I thought electronic devices don't work in Hogwarts?”

“They generally don't, but I'm sure you've seen a camera work in here before. The
same logic is applied. Whoever wrote this code wrote it in plain English, ran it through this
encryption machine and this is what is produced. This person must have magicked it in such a way to
hide whatever it is...except for these numbers to the side of course.” She pointed to the column of
numbers.

“Most of them always add up to a 100,” Luna finished.

“So I'd have to physically get my hands on this particular device in order to crack the
code?”

“Either that or ask whoever gave it to you.” Luna handed him back the paper, apparently finished
with her analysis. “Seeing as you were obviously confused as to how to solve it, the person that
gave it to you must surely want you to come back and speak to them again. How else could you solve
it?”

As the pieces clicked into place, Harry smiled to himself.

“How else indeed?”

* * * * * * *

But he wasn't able to find Granger for the rest of the day. He checked her usual haunt in
the library but it was curiously empty, an oddity for her. After attending another Creatures class
where Professor Lupin terrorized almost everyone with a stunningly realistic diagram of a Basilisk,
Harry had a free period and decided to attend Battle class. Anyone could attend Battle class during
free periods though few attended regularly. There was enough on their plate without adding another
House's battles, but Harry preferred some objective observation. It was easier to break down
battles when he wasn't participating.

Coincidentally, this Battle class was between third year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs.

“Where are you going?” Tracey stopped in the middle of the hallway when Harry turned right
instead of the left it took to get to the Slytherin Common Room.

“Battle class. I want to take some notes.”

Tracey frowned, but pulled her bag tight over her shoulder and started walking towards him.
“I'm coming with you.”

Blaise threw his hands in the air in frustration. “*Both* of you want to spend our free
period back in Battle class? Haven't you had enough?”

“You're free to go back, Blaise,” Harry said with an amused grin.

Blaise rolled his eyes, simulating disgust. Yet, he also started walking with them as well. To
be honest, Harry found it surprising that Tracey wanted to accompany him in the first place. While
she was obviously making a concentrated effort to improve this year, attending Battle class when it
wasn't your own wasn't something he thought she would do. Blaise was probably tagging along
from sheer boredom or, at least, the appearance of sheer boredom.

The class was already in session, Professor Snape standing on a hovering platform that
overlooked this particular scenario. It was a jungle, not unlike the Hufflepuff match they watched
earlier in Trow's class. Strangely enough, the instructor in question of that class was also in
attendance. He was leaning forward, his elbows on his knees and his chin settled upon the chalice
of his cupped hands. The hawkish white hair came to a widow's peak above a brow that was
furrowed in concentration. The close attention was disrupted by a hacking cough that suddenly
overtook him and as he produced a handkerchief to cover his mouth, Harry could spot a pink mist on
the white cloth before Trow stuffed it back into his robes.

“Hello professor,” Harry greeted as he sat down next to him, Tracey and Blaise following
suit.

“Why hello, Harry. While I'm not surprised to see you here, I can say that it is a pleasure
to see Mr. Zabini and Ms. Davis here as well,” Trow said with a congenial smile.

“How could I avoid another Hufflepuff match?” Blaise asked with a dark, arched eyebrow.

“As dutifully blasé as always, Blaise.” The smile took the sting out of Trow's words.

“A family motto.”

Harry turned towards the match at hand as the Gryffindors advanced in a predictable arrowhead
formation. They were in a solid grouping, marching through the jungle towards the perceived
Hufflepuff location. Gryffindor were nothing but predictable and they played their hand obviously
here. The plan with the arrowhead formation was to charge the Hufflepuffs head on. The prediction
would be that Hufflepuff would split to try to surround the singular body and then the Gryffindors
would respond by swarming each half.

*Divide and conquer. The Gryffindor way*.

The tactic assumed that each individual Gryffindor was superior to each individual Hufflepuff.
Since the match started with even numbers, it was simply a brutal assault that required little
finesse. It was straightforward and simple and not something Granger would have devised. He spotted
her small frame tucked in the middle, marching dutifully, yet visibly annoyed.

“Are you just here observing the match, professor?” Tracey politely questioned.

“Why yes, Ms. Davis. I do take an interest in how well my classes do and it never hurts to
observe a battle to see how they are employing my teachings. While we're here, why don't we
do some improvisational instruction?”

“This is supposed to be a free period,” Blaise grumbled.

“And yet, there is something to be learned! Tell me, what do the Gryffindors hope to
accomplish?”

Harry repeated his previous thoughts on the arrowhead formation aloud, highlighting the
assumptions behind Gryffindor's motivations as well as the strengths and weaknesses of their
movement.

“And what do you think of their rate of success?”

Harry shrugged. “It just depends how it breaks when they meet Hufflepuff. If the Hufflepuffs
break like they should, they probably have a good chance of overwhelming them.”

“For theoretical sake, let's assume that the Hufflepuffs don't break. What do you think
would happen, Ms. Davis?”

Tracey clearly thought that it was a conversation that was going to be between Harry and Trow so
she stuttered for a moment as she tried to collect a response.

“Well - um - I think the Gryffindors would lose, wouldn't they? If the Hufflepuffs hold, it
will be like water coming up against a rock.”

*Close Tracey. That's not what Trow was asking*.

“Almost, Ms. Davis! They would *always* break. Unless the Hufflepuffs were convinced they
were the better duelists, splitting apart would be the natural course of action. While I don't
make any assumptions of the strengths of each individual Hufflepuff, no doubt the Gryffindors have
some talented duelists. To not break would be a directive to duel them face to face and that's
not a situation you want. The Hufflepuffs should take advantage of their terrain and
Gryffindor's aggressiveness. How would they do that?”

Tracey looked helplessly at Harry but he just gave her an encouraging nod, hoping that she
wouldn't balk away from an answer. Her dedication this year was transparent and Harry hoped it
wasn't just limited to in-class answers. Trow was testing her ability to analyze a battle and
Harry kept his mouth shut, wanting her to sink or swim on her own merit.

She looked at the jungle with her blue eyes, squinting and staring like it was going to give her
an answer. Though she didn't know it, she was staring at the obvious response. The Gryffindors
were marching parallel to a river, going north along the jungle. If the Hufflepuffs were smart,
they would have relocated to the other side of the river and then sent an sacrifice to lure the
Gryffindors to the banks.

“The river, right?” Tracey asked with more than a bit of question in her voice. “The Hufflepuffs
should use the river?”

“How?” Trow pressed.

Blaise threw his hands in the air, breaking his silence. “Oh, for Merlin's sake! The Puffs
should use the river as a blockade and invite the Griffs in there. The Griffs would be too tempted
not to follow along.”

Tracey flushed as Blaise spoke the obvious answer and even Trow had to smile at the dark
boy's outburst. Harry chuckled himself as he directed his eyes towards the match, watching
Granger in the middle of the Gryffindor pack.

“That's assuming Gryffindor would make the cardinal mistake of crossing the river. Now,
assume that Gryffindor realizes that the river is a trap. How should they respond?”

At first, Harry thought that they couldn't respond and it was an obvious stalemate as they
took pot shots at each other from across the river. Scanning the field, Harry could see that there
was a shallow brook down river where it was noticeably easier to cross. The Hufflepuffs
*should* have left a detachment there to protect their flank, but in their haste to cross the
river, they didn't realize the back door. Would Gryffindor?

“Engage the Hufflepuffs directly. Try to contain their horizontal movement while they detach a
small force to cross the shallow end over there.” Harry pointed down the river to make sure
everyone could see.

Blaise frowned at Harry's offer. “How could you even see that?”

Harry shrugged again, pushing his glasses up his nose. “You have to always try and flank.
It's just a matter of time before either of the Houses see it.”

As predicted, the Hufflepuffs sent Zacharias Smith to lure the Gryffindors from the jungle. He
crossed the river with some effort, his pants becoming soaked as he did so. Most Houses wore a
standard of a gray pants and a gray shirt with the House emblem stitched along the breast. Robes
were usually discarded as too heavy and cumbersome. The way the scenario was oriented, the
Hufflepuffs were on the short side of the field. While they had the defense of the river, their
jungle was considerably smaller than the main area.

From their vantage point above the match, the four of them watched as Zach found the Gryffindors
and sent a stray spell their way. Once he caught their attention, he made a mad dash for the river,
dodging spells left and right. The flash of lights tore off limbs and leaves as the Gryffindors
gave chase.

“They're like dogs. Tap them and they'll follow,” Blaise scoffed.

“Warning, Mr. Zabini. I am still a teacher,” Trow quickly replied.

“Apologies.” Blaise had a way of apologizing without sounding a bit sorry.

Yet, there was a kernel of truth in Blaise's statement. The Gryffindors predictably chased
after him, their formation staying tight but definitely heading towards the river. Zach had a good
jump on them and was already on the other bank of the river by the time the Gryffindors reached the
end of the tree line. Zach turned and fired a few more spells at them before disappearing into the
smaller jungle.

The Gryffindors suddenly balked at the edge of the stream, an argument blooming at the tree
line. At the heart of it was Ron Weasley and Seamus Finnigan, gesticulating across the river while
Granger and another Gryffindor he didn't know was pointing somewhere else. Caught in their
argument, neither of them noticed the barrage of spells emerging from the smaller jungle.

Two or three Gryffindors were struck down before they had a chance to take cover as the
Hufflepuffs caught them in the midst of their argument and relentlessly pounded them with spells.
The majority of the Gryffindors fell back towards the tree line, haphazardly trying to deflect the
spells as they retreated. It was chaotic and unorganized and Harry was a bit disappointed that they
had fallen so easily for the ruse.

Regrouped with a semblance of cover at the tree line, the heated discussion continued as the
Gryffindors debated on their next course of action. The rest of the Gryffindors were forming a
defensive line along the edge of the jungle while the “brain trust” of the Gryffindors discussed
their options. Ironically, Weasley was among them as well as Granger and Finnigan.

“Oh Merlin, look at Longbottom.” Blaise snickered as he pointed out the hapless boy.

The poor boy in question was huddling behind a tree, peeking out every so often but not firing a
spell at all. He was about as useful as a Flobberworm and the Gryffindors chances were slowly
dwindling. With two of their classmates already down, Gryffindor only had eight students left while
the Hufflepuffs held strong.

“What do you think they should do, Harry?” Trow asked as he coughed into his handkerchief
again.

“They have to realize that they need to find a way to cross the river. It might be a little too
late though.”

The Gryffindors were still battling their options as Granger grew more heated with Weasley.
While he didn't know what they were saying, Harry was hoping that Granger would win out and
realize their strategical faux pas. His eyes wandered and found Snape, stock still with his arms
folded and his eyes keen on the Gryffindors.

“Professor Trow, can I ask you something about Hogwarts?” Harry asked.

“Certainly.”

“How exactly did Snape become headmaster?”

Trow raised a white eyebrow. “You do not know? Have you never read Hogwarts: A History?”

“I've skimmed it. It's a bit of a thick book.”

“Do you know anything about the processes involved in the selection of a new headmaster?”

“Don't the Board of Governors pick one?” Blaise interjected, possessing a passing knowledge
since of his mother's husband was in the Ministry.

“Just about. In the case of Dumbledore's death, he left a will specifically outlying his
wish for Professor Snape, a Potions master at the time, to become headmaster. While it is extremely
uncommon for the current headmaster to specify the next headmaster for various reasons, Dumbledore
held a strong clout even after his death. What made matters more complex for the Board of Governors
was that the contents of the will were publicly known. How were they supposed to elect someone
else?”

“And this is all in Hogwarts: A History?”

“Most of it, but the Board could have still charted their own course if it wasn't for you,
Harry.”

“Me?” Harry shook his head as Blaise snickered annoyingly. Another Gryffindor had fallen while
they spoke.

“The death of Dumbledore and the subsequent fall of Voldemort were too close not to be seen as a
sign. Teachers were threatening to leave Hogwarts if the Board didn't listen to
Dumbledore's last wishes.”

Another coughing fit overtook Trow as the Gryffindors came upon a decision. The small huddle of
Granger, Weasley, and Finnigan finally broke.

“Why do you say the *fall* of Voldemort?”

Tucking the handkerchief into his robes again, Trow dismissed it with a paltry wave. “It's
just a phrase, Harry.”

Harry was about to follow up when a fire suddenly broke out over the Hufflepuff canopy. Blaise
whistled low and Tracey gasped as Granger directed an engulfing flame towards the jungle.
Surprisingly, Trow laughed and clapped his hands at the show.

“It seems Ms. Granger is using her cleverness again.”

*But not clever enough*.

It was a good idea and Harry was unsurprised to see Trow complimenting it, but he had already
thought of it long ago when he first saw it was a jungle. The problem with fire was that two could
easily play that game and soon enough, a conflagration over took the Gryffindor side as well.
Unable to turn deeper into the jungle, Gryffindor rushed out to meet Hufflepuff at the edge of the
river.

“Finally,” Blaise commented, “Something interesting.”

Between the two burning jungles, the two Houses faced off, firing shots from across the river
with only a few boulders to use as cover. Harry kept his eyes on Granger, watching as she
determinedly ran out to join the fray. She leaned on her feet as she ran in a zig zag pattern to
avoid some of the curses. Still relying on her surroundings, she summoned a wall of water from the
river and sent it crashing down on the Hufflepuffs, disorienting and scattering them. Then, she
inexplicably abated her assault as she leaped to the defense of Longbottom.

*Let him go, Granger. He's a liability.*

Pivoting to face the Hufflepuffs, Granger had to stop again as Longbottom came under attack.
Weasley and Finnigan were running along the blanks, pebbles and water splashing around their ankles
as they traded fire with the Hufflepuffs. An opening emerged for Granger as some of the Hufflepuffs
turned their back to her to engage Weasley and Finnigan. Yet, she didn't attack as she flung
her arm out to cast another shield charm around Longbottom.

“What is she doing?” Harry whispered mostly to himself.

“Who? Granger?” Tracey evenly asked.

Weasley was suddenly fallen and without a partner, Finnigan was quickly closed down as well. The
rest of the Gryffindors had fallen at some point so it was Granger and Longbottom against five
Hufflepuffs, including Finch-Fletchley. She was a magnificent whirl of magic, spinning and turning
as she deftly avoided curses after curses, cycling and redirecting spells back towards the
Hufflepuffs. But she couldn't attack, holding herself back to make sure Longbottom stayed in
the fray.

“She's spending too much time defending Longbottom.” Even Tracey could identify the
problem.

And it was Finch-Fletchley who spotted her weakness, increasing his attacks on Longbottom until
Granger slipped and let one of her shields fall. Harry shook his head as Snape finished the match,
Longbottom not surviving another few seconds without his guardian angel.

Professor Trow sighed as he stood up and indicated a good-bye with a soft nod of his head. “It
seeems some students still have things to learn.”

Harry nodded in agreement.

*So that's Granger's weakness. A bleeding heart.*

** * * * * * * **

It was a moonless night at Hogwarts, a singular light filling Professor Trow's
classroom.

A lone figure was hunched over a Stationary Omniocular. Her hand furiously scribbled over a
codified parchment, a frown set upon her face. Harry watched for a moment as Granger diligently
wrote down whatever notes she took, engrossed in the replay of her match.

“Why did you decide on an arrowhead formation?” Harry suddenly interrupted.

Granger jolted back, almost falling out of her chair as she looked at the Boy-Who-Lived, leaning
against the wall with his hands tucked in his pockets. He was looking at her evenly, the face of an
honest question.

“I didn't choose it.” That was her short answer as she buried her head back into the
station, her bushy hair settling around it.

“What did you want to do then?”

“I wanted to choke the life out of Ron, curse Seamus, and then send 3 people along the river to
the other jungle while the main force pushed the Hufflepuffs back. If you would excuse me, Potter,
I don't have time for your stupid games. I have a match to review.”

Irritated was an understatement.

“Even that wouldn't have worked. You should have matched the Hufflepuffs and fought for
control of the smaller jungle. That's what Snape was trying to do. Manage the field,
Granger.”

“And you always know everything, don't you, Potter?” Granger didn't even look up as she
spoke to him.

Harry had to laugh at her arrogance. He always heard that she was a know-it-all, but it
wasn't as evident as it was now. She wasn't perfect, by any means, but he was far more
impressed with her talent than anyone else in their year.

“I have something for you, Granger.”

That got her attention.

She lifted her head and scrutinized him up and down. Reaching into his back pocket, Harry pulled
out the coded parchment and handed it to her with a smile on his face.

“I can't crack it because you're using a Muggle device to code it. The only way to crack
it would be to come back to you.”

Only the smallest raise of her eyebrows indicated any sort of surprise. Her silence was an
answer enough as she took the parchment back, trying not to betray any feelings.

“So here we are, Granger. You thought I wouldn't be able to figure it out that it was
undecipherable yet here I am.”

Instead of continuing down that line of conversation, she pivoted and asked, “Why were you
watching us?”

There was no point in lying. “I wanted to see how you would perform in a House match.”

A heavy silence filled the air as he let Granger retake control of the conversation. It
didn't take a Granger-like genius to figure out that she was a bit of a control freak.

“And?” She finally asked.

“There are some things you could improve on.”

Thought it was dark in Trow's classroom, she still burned bright, clearly uneasy about being
criticized. Yet, the way she bit her lip to hold back a remark convinced Harry that she knew that
he was right. There was a glaring weakness in her, not including Longbottom, in her large scale
tactics.

“I offer you this, Granger. Break that code and tell me how you beat me and I'll help you
with your House matches.”

Of course, suspicion was her first emotion, but he finally had her head out of the Stationary
Omniocular. But she must have been smart enough to know her own weaknesses, however hard it was to
admit.

“What makes you think I have some sort of secret on how I beat you?”

“Why did you give me something you knew would have to lead back to you?” Harry challenged
her.

A dark shadow passed over her face, her brown eyes tinting over ever so slightly. The slight
change was almost imperceptible in the darkness of Trow's classroom, but Harry saw it. As
quickly as it came, it evaporated into thin air and her deep, brown eyes were normal again.

“No one can know. I don't want anyone to know we're exchanging information. If they
do...”

“You don't need to tell me, Granger.”

Another pause filled their awkward conversation as Granger mulled over the agreement. It was a
quiet treaty, designed to improve their weaknesses. Neither of them could deny the potential
advantage that could be drawn from each other, yet should anyone discover their pact...

“Agreed.”

She stuck out her hand, strangely professional and humorously straightforward. It only took a
second until Harry clasped hands with her. It was there, in the black of Trow's classroom, that
they started a relationship that would be a harbinger of uninterrupted darkness. Yet neither of
them knew that.

“And don't call me Granger.” She sniffed.

“Fine,” Harry shrugged. “I'm Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived.”

“Hermione Granger, the Mudblood Champion.”

At this, Harry had to crack a smile at her sauciness.

*This girl might have something after all.*

* * * * * *

**A/N: Another update should be incoming within the end of the week. Also, the next couple of
chapters should be longer than this (by just another couple thousand words). Thoughts on the
chapter? Reactions to their agreement? There were quite a few hints dropped in this chapter.
Enjoy!**
 Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7
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9. The Cave
-----------



“Hello, Susan.”

She froze, her arms curled around her books as the light glanced off her red hair. It was night
again, where Harry preferred doing much of his investigative work. He learned long ago the inherent
fear of darkness people had. The cupboard would get so dark in the middle of the night that he
wouldn't be able to see his hand if he held it right against the tip of his nose.

“Harry.” It was more of a question than a statement and judging by the way she kept rolling back
to the balls of her feet, she was more than a little bit apprehensive without the rest of her
Hufflepuffs.

“How are your classes going?” he opened.

“Good. 137th on the Master List. Nowhere near as high as you, but I'm improving.”

It was as if she wanted to prove herself to him and make sure he knew that she was competent.
Strangely enough, Harry took it as a compliment. She respected him enough to know that he was
better than her but also wanted him to know that she didn't take herself lightly as well.
Blaise was right, she was the correct target. According to him, she was the daughter of Amelia
Bones, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. According to younger Hufflepuffs, she was
stringent and obsessed with the rules, carefully avoiding any wrong doing.

“I was wondering if I could talk to you about something.”

She raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Here? In the middle of the night by myself in a dark hallway?
Are you sure you want to talk?”

Harry frowned. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“I've heard the rumors, Harry. How you intimidate people in the middle of the night and
scare them off. I'm not going to let you do that to me.” She was trying to hold a serious
facade but the quiver of her bottom lip gave it away.

*Finch-Fletchley. He's trying to make me the bully in the night*.

“I don't know what you've heard Susan, but I don't do any of that. Let me guess
though, it was Justin who told you that.”

She hesitated, as people often do when confronted with something unexpected. It was a
confirmation for Harry that Justin was going far beyond just trying to intimidate him in the middle
of the night. Justin, and whoever he was working with, was trying to incur a deep sentiment against
him while trying to simultaneously cow him into submission.

Dudley would have been quite disappointed at the effort.

“How'd you know that?” Susan whispered.

“Justin's not as discrete as he thinks he is. Just do me a favor and keep your ears open for
him, Susan. You don't have to report to me or anything, but just make sure you know what
he's saying and ask yourself if you think I'm really capable of that.”

She blinked in confusion. “But I don't even know you. And why would Justin want to do that?
He's once of the nicest people I know.”

“I'm not asking you to make judgments, Susan. Just listen.”

Harry stepped away from the light and allowed himself to melt into the darkness, casting an
obscure haziness around him. He hoped that there was enough mystery left in his message so that it
would rightly disorient Susan. While he didn't expect her to completely betray her fellow
Hufflepuffs, a seed of doubt could go a long way into making inroads to get to Finch-Fletchley.

“Harry,” she called out, unable to see him anymore due to his spell. “Why are you telling
*me* this?”

“Because I think you're a good person, Susan. I think you know when something isn't
right.”

* * * * * *

Slipping past the barrels to access the Slytherin Common Room, Harry internally grimaced when he
spotted Tracey waiting by the fire, her legs crossed and her hanging foot bouncing impatiently. She
tucked her curly hair behind an ear, blue eyes filled with worry and a tinge of annoyance. Harry
was just considering placing a Muffling Charm on his feet to bypass her, but her head snapped
around as the stone entrance closed shut.

“Out again?” She asked, a barely repressed tremor in her tenor.

“Tracey, there were things that needed to be done.” If he didn't draw a line soon, she would
continue pestering him.

“Like what? Looking for *them* again?”

“No, I was looking for someone else this time.”

*Be patient with her. She's your friend. You have to be patient with her*. But damn, it
was hard.

She licked her lips, debating something internally. “And did you find what you were looking
for?”

Trying to delay the inevitable confrontation, Harry attempted to shoulder past her, but she
stuck out a hand and grabbed his shoulder. It wasn't rough but firm, an obvious tell that she
wanted to speak to him.

“Did you find it?” she repeated.

“What does it matter, Trace?” Harry sighed, willing himself not to be frustrated with her.

“It matters to me, Harry. You can't just...go sneaking out like this! Not alone! Let
me....let me help you.”

Harry arched an eyebrow, acutely aware of her hand still on his shoulder. He didn't move,
not out of discomfort, but looked away from her nonetheless. *Is she asking what I think
she's asking?*

“Tracey...”

“I didn't like what they did to you, Harry,” Tracey interrupted him. “I know you may think
I'm not up to it or whatever you want, but I'm in Slytherin too. If you think that I
didn't realize what they were trying to do you, then you think far more lowly of me than I
assume.”

“I would never think that lowly of you, Trace.”

Her earnest but vengeful tone surprised him. Singularly focused on finding the others associated
with Finch-Fletchley, he hadn't given thought to how Tracey felt about the attack. Protective?
Yes. Vengeful? That wasn't something he was used to seeing out of her.

“Then let me help you,” she said with a steel in her voice.

*Can I trust her?*

He preferred to do things alone, there was a lot less complexity and it freed him from having to
relay any decisions. Furthermore, any moral and school bound obligations were his to face alone.
Including Tracey would incur a myriad of logistics headaches that would most likely hinder or delay
his progress. On the other hand, an extra pair of eyes and ears and a different, very female,
perspective could be helpful. She was also more liked, at least in general terms, than he. If Harry
Potter was asking questions, others would grow suspicious, thinking that he was trying to find
leaks in their ability. If Tracey was asking questions, there might be the same cloud of suspicion,
but it would be considerably less.

*If I can't trust her, who can I trust?*

“I talked to Susan Bones. Blaise identified her as someone who is a bit of a straight arrow. I
think if I plant a seed of doubt within her, she'll come to me if she thinks there's more
to Justin than meets the eye. I doubt that there would be more than one Hufflepuff in on it, so
I'm trying to investigate the other Houses.”

It came out in a rush, the words quickly spoken in a hushed tone, but he felt relieved when he
finally exhaled. Internally, it was as if a dam had let loose, a flood of gratefulness directed
towards the dark-haired, blue-eyed girl in front of him. She pulled him closer to a corner of the
Common Room, slightly further away from prying ears and eyes.

“Why wouldn't it be a few of them from Hufflepuff?”

Harry shook his head, unable to pin down the feeling. “It just doesn't feel like it. I know
it sounds dumb, but why would a bunch of Hufflepuffs gang together to beat me up? Does that sound
like Hufflepuffs to you?”

Tracey frowned in confusion. “It doesn't. Not at all.”

“Justin's one of them, but it has to be from other Houses...including ours.”

Her eyes fluttered around but she couldn't spot any mops of blond hair in the room. “Surely,
you can't be serious?”

“This is what you wanted to know, Trace. We can't rule out anything.”

She nodded, still unsure at accusing her own house, but Harry wasn't so naïve. There were
others, besides the adjoining Houses, that would look to knock him down the rankings and belittle
him until he lost confidence. Little did they know about his childhood experiences.

“I can talk to some people. There are a few girls that are rather chatty if you get them in the
right mood.”

“Good. More information is what we need right now. We'll worry about the other bridge when
we get there.”

“What other bridge?”

“Don't be so naïve, Trace. I'm not just going to let them get away with it.”

* * * * * * * *

After a brutal Transfigurations class that involved more than one intensive questioning by
McGonagall, Harry excused himself to allegedly watch more duels in Trow's classroom. Neither
Blaise nor Tracey took any suspicion with his late night studying, but Harry did note that Tracey
kept an eye on him all the way to the exit of the Common Room. Curious, he doubled back on his
trail and waited in an alcove to see if she followed him, but there was nothing except for the
sound of air whistling through the castle.

Convinced he was alone, Harry made his way to the rendezvous point. It was a spot adjacent to
the kitchens that was rarely frequented by patrols and professors. He and Granger had agreed upon
the location through a series of clandestine communiques. Despite his insistence on meeting in a
more secrete place, she insisted on this room. He could already see that it would be difficult
working with her.

By this time, he had become an expert at avoiding patrols and professors. There were always
multiple alcoves and classrooms he could duck into and he routinely placed Cushioning and Balancing
charms on his shoes. Sometimes, he wistfully wished for one of those Invisibility Cloaks but that
was for naught. He arrived at their predetermined meet up point and was unsurprised to find Granger
waiting there already.

“Let's go,” she said, bypassing pleasantries and walking back towards the direction he
came.

Harry followed without a word, content with tracking her bushy mane of hair as they crept along
the hallways of Hogwarts. Once or twice, she signaled for a stop to let one of the Prefect patrols
pass them, but she always moved forward, never wavering. The temperature changed as they descended
to the lower hallways and for a moment, Harry wondered if she was leading him back to the Slytherin
Common Room. They were certainly within the general vicinity.

Yet, she turned down a different hallway that he was accustomed to, leading him to an area that
he didn't frequently explore. The air was colder, a certain damp quality that made him wonder
how Granger found this area in the first place. It was only when she pushed against a wall that he
realized this was no ordinary hiding spot.

The wall caved easily, but the magic was the way the bricks folded within themselves, much like
Diagon Alley's entrance. She beckoned him inside with a wave of her hand and pressed her palm
against the wall again. Harry watched as it closed itself up until all that was left was the dim
light of Granger's wand.

“Come on and watch your step.”

That she led with astonishing precision was unsurprising to Harry. Clearly, this was her private
domain and while he was buzzing with questions on the identity and means she has discovered it
with, he was content with following her down the dimly illuminated path. Once again, the air was a
predictor of their environment as the temperature suddenly leveled off while the humidity rose.
Judging by their elevation, they were clearly underground Hogwarts at this point.

Resisting the temptation to ask her a mountain of questions, Harry kept his mouth shut and
observed his surroundings. The walls were undeveloped by precise, clearly a work of magic. He
doubted that Granger had the means of creating the tunnel herself. That would require precise, and
more importantly, risky tactics. The tightly packed mud didn't look freshly made either,
judging by the vines and overgrowth that crept through the dirt.

This tunnel had been here for a long time.

The soft putter-patter of their footsteps echoed louder until the tunnel finally opened up to a
beautiful sight. The ceiling stretched higher and as Harry looked up, he gasped. The ceiling was
translucent, reminding him of the one time the Dursleys brought him to an aquarium. Above him,
fishes and seaweed floated about and once or twice, he thought he spotted the Giant Squid lurking
in the distance. It was astonishing and brilliant. The actual cave was expansive, nearly the size
of the Great Hall and at the very end, a pool of clear, blue water reflected against the dark
ceiling.

“*Lumosonta!”*

Granger said the words and torches came to life, bathing the cave in a bright, yellow light that
allowed some brightness into the cave. Harry whistled lowly and started clapping, beyond impressed
with the setting.

“How'd you find this place?” Harry asked in genuine awe.

“Dumb luck mostly. It was during Second Year when I was having some trouble and...here I was...”
Granger said with her back turned as she pulled something out of her bag.

“You can't tell me it was simple as that. This place has to be as old as -”

“-the Founders most likely. And as I said, it was dumb luck. I was having some trouble
navigating some things and here I am.”

Harry sensed there was more to story than simple discovery, but he let it slide for now. She had
already shown him this wonderful place, there was no point in pushing the issue just yet. Mentally,
he filed that question away for a more amenable time.

“Before we get started, I need you to promise that you won't tell anyone of this place. This
is...my place, Potter -”

“Harry.”

“-Harry. I'll blow the whistle on this whole thing if you tell *anyone* of this
place.”

He readily stepped forward and stuck out his hand. “I will never tell anyone of this,
Hermione.”

She hook his hand hesitantly and he could feel the waves of distrust emanating from her, but she
had already taken a giant step by leading him to this cave. There was progress to be made and Harry
was excited that he was present for it.

“Okay then.” She exhaled loudly as settled into one of two seats and a table that was in the
cave. There was no other furniture barring that. “While I appreciate your word, you still need to
sign this.”

He should have been surprised that she had a contract drawn up, but he wasn't. It totally
fit in her with mental psyche and astonishingly meticulous preparation. Snorting, he picked up the
quill she had laid beside the parchment.

“Can I get a copy of this?” he asked.

“No.”

“And I assume its magically binded?”

“Yes.”

He signed it anyways, not bothering to read the fine print. If she had gone through the lengths
to secure his confidence, then she wouldn't have put some sort of loophole in there that
rendered him her slave or something ridiculous. At least, he hoped so.

“You know that I have a lot more to lose from this relationship than you,” Harry coolly
said.

“I know. I just like to keep everything in order just in case.”

“You really think that I'd let lose your secret? For what gain?”

“I don't know, Potter,” she snapped. “I'm just trying to make sure I have everything in
line.”

Her strange behavior puzzled him. Defensive, he expected, but this magically binding contract
was almost paranoid. Distrust, he also expected, but what did he have to gain by revealing this
location, no matter how magical it seemed. Again, silence was the better option here so he signed
the contract with tight lips, practicing an inordinate amount of self-control not to mouth off to
her.

A slight glow overtook the parchment, but she quickly pocketed it and in one smooth motion,
brought forth a tome with jagged pieces of paper sticking out of it. It was a brown, unmarked
journal and Granger held it with a palpable amount of trepidation. She was gripping it two-handed,
seemingly unwilling to let it go. Harry waited, not wanting to spook her, sensing he was close to
the answer he had craved for so long.

*How'd you do it, Granger?*

“This is it,” she said.

“Your translator?” he wondered aloud, expounding on Lovegood's idea.

“No, you don't get to see that.” The wry smile on her face beckoned a smug omnipotence in
that regard. “But you do get to see the results.”

Excitement thrummed along his fingertips as he itched to reach towards the journal. There was
the solution to his problem, the answer to his quagmire. How had she defeated him so soundly,
predicting every move while deflecting all of his? If it was some advanced magic he did not yet
know, he wanted to learn it. If it was a simple spell that he overlooked, he wanted to rectify the
error. Instead, Granger opened up the book to something different entirely.

Numbers.

“What's this?” He frowned in confusion as he flipped the journal his way so he could read it
more clearly.

The condescension could barely be held from her voice. “It's how I beat you.”

But there wasn't anything there! There were no spells of ancient descent nor an indication
that she had found some sort of charm or hex that could predict his own movements. His own theories
that ranged from outside help to Sneakoscopes to plain time travel seemed to be just as
unfounded.

There were just numbers upon numbers.

But as he looked closer, finally noticing that the heading contained his own name, he found
something just as intriguing. He didn't quite understand all of her short hand and other
unfamiliar terms. Scrawled among the page was *Linear Regression* and *Inverse
Correlation* and *Confidence Interval*. He knew none of what that meant, but he had taken
enough Maths to understand the simple concept of percentages.

*Harry J. Potter Attacks:*

*Expelliarmus - 42%*

*Stupefy - 37%*

*Bombarda - 11%*

*Misc. - 10%*

Listed below that were a series of terms, some of which he understood implicitly and others that
required explanation.

*Defense:*

*Range Factor - 10*

*Protego Usage (Engaged) - 37%*

*Protego Usage (Predictive) - 55%*

*Protego Usage (Pre-Emptive) - 8%*

*Power Levels:*

*Attack - 8*

*Defense - 5*

*Movement - 10*

*Complexity - 6*

*Aggression Expectancy:*

*Movement Attack - 44%*

*Movement Defense - 32%*

*Stationary Attack - 15%*

*Stationary Defense - 9%*

“Stats...” Harry said the single word breathlessly and disbelievingly. While he wasn't
confident of what all the numbers meant, the overall implication was evident. Hermione Granger
didn't use a secret spell or some unknown magic to beat him. She had used simple arithmetic to
define him.

“Not what you expected?” It would've been gloating if it wasn't so true.

“But this is so...simple...so...”

“Muggle?” Hermione offered, raising a thick eyebrow.

Harry was still pouring over the numbers, trying desperately to find some other answer, but the
numbers were static and evident. It was only after a beat of silence that he asked the important
question.

“How'd you get these numbers? What are the different Protego Usages? These Power Levels too.
What does it mean? I still don't understand how you beat me. How can you predict the spells?
Aren't these just estimates?”

She cocked her head as he fired off rapid questions, over burgeoning curiosity taking hold of
him. He held the journal even tighter, demanding an answer to such a simple question. *This
can't be it. This can't possibly be it.*

“So...you believe me? You think this is how you did it?”

“How did you get to it, Hermione?!” Harry was bewildered that she was so calm.

“I think a better question is *why* I got to it, Harry.”

“I don't follow.”

Hermione sat up and Harry could recognize the lecturing tone as the one she took whenever she
had the correct answer in class - which meant all the time.

“Don't you ever wonder why wizards never ask *why* things happen? Why do spells work
the way they do? Why do they teach us certain spells? Does saying a spell make it so or is there
something innate about how he perform a spell? Is it the incantation? The wand movement? Why are
some of our spells stronger than others? And no one ever asks why! It's always *how, what,
how, what, how, what*!”

“What does this have to do with the numbers?”

She leaned back in her chair, a flicker of shadow sliding over face. At once, Harry was reminded
that they were sitting underneath the Great Lake in some sort of secret cavern discussing the
process in which she defeated him. The whole situation would be absurd if it weren't for the
fact that Harry was holding a journal of numbers that was the apparent source of his defeat.

“No one ever asks *why* around here. Why are you better than everyone at dueling? Are you
more talented? Are you more powerful? Or do you simply do something different? I couldn't
believe that you were so much more powerful at a younger age than all of us. I simply
*couldn't* believe it, so I found an answer in the one thing I could understand and
rationalize. Numbers. Numbers can't lie, Harry.”

Hermione was so emphatic in her belief that her eyes had grown wide and her chest heaved as she
spoke. Part of Harry reveled in her explanation but the other part of him, the competitive side,
still couldn't believe that a bunch of statistics had led to his downfall.

“And?”

“There *was* a reason. And it was all right there in the numbers. Flip to page 167 and
you'll see my graph comparison on your aggression tendencies.”

He flipped to the correlating page and indeed saw a graph marked with different colored
lines.

“The blue line is you. Do you see how often you move in comparison to everyone else? You're
*constantly* moving, whether it be attacking or defending. 44% of your attacks come on the
move and you use movement to avoid spells nearly 32% of the time. Everyone can see that you move,
but they don't realize *how often* you do it. If they knew that you moved so much, they
wouldn't try to hit you. How many times did I try to hit you when we dueled?”

*The Jelly-Legs. A simple jinx that I didn't understand*.

“Not that many.”

“You're aggressive, almost to the point of being over-aggressive but people are so scared of
you that they don't like confronting you. But I saw exactly what you were doing. You moved
faster than everyone else, kept them on their toes by constantly attacking and barraging them with
spells. But you have two faults.”

“*Two?!”*

“Yes, Harry, two! One, you don't mix up your spells. You use your bread and butter of
*Expelliarmus* and *Stupefy*, but if people realized that you use them almost two-thirds
of the time, they wouldn't be so fearful. People have this horrifying idea that you cast all
these spells as you move around them, but in reality, you're only ever casting two or three
spells. It's just that you cast them so quickly that people create this illusion of you in
their heads. All they have to do is block and stay calm, but they can't.”

“But you could...because you knew...”

“Not just because I knew. I knew *exactly* what you would do and how you would do it.
It's the *why*, Harry. Everyone asks *how* you beat them or *what* spell they
use, but they don't ever ask *why* you perform the way you do. They just think that if
they perform the spell better or they catch you off-guard, you can defeat them. You did the same
thing, adapting to out pace everyone else, only you didn't need the numbers.”

And just like that, Granger shattered any expectations that Harry had of one-on-one duels. It
was as simple as diagnosing the exact number of times he used a spell and how he used them. It was
the systematic deconstruction of his dueling style that caused him to lose, a turn so simple that
it was pure lunacy that no one had ever tried it before. But Harry knew why wizards didn't ask.
It was below them.

But it wasn't below Granger.

“You said I did two things wrong. What's the second one?”

“It's the same reason no one's been able to figure me out. You didn't ask
*why*.”

“When didn't I ask?”

“When I was performing my Duplication Spell. I watched you on the tape. You kept wondering what
I was doing, but it didn't really matter. I could have been performing any other number of
spells that you couldn't know, besides a Duplication Spell. If you had taken a second to ask
*why* I was avoiding you, you could have easily avoided my trap. But you were too proud,
Harry. Too confident in being a wizard. Too...”

“...convinced that my magic would overpower you.”

It wasn't a revelation. Something so simple as a statistical breakdown couldn't be some
ground-breaking revelation. In reality, it was the simplicity that was the key. Wizards were so
keen and proud of their own magical powers that they would never think something as lowly as number
crunching could defeat them. Yet, here was Granger.

“So that's all?” Harry was still astonished. “You just have pages of everyone? How could you
have enough time to do that?”

“Neville helps me,” Hermione answered. “He's been instrumental in collecting the data. I
just wish he would execute better.” Hermione grumbled the last part.

“If you could tell him to stop being afraid of his own shadow, he might be able to think for
longer than two seconds.”

“Don't make fun of Neville,” Hermione warned.

Harry held his hands up in mock defeat. “Apologies.”

Harry flipped through the page as Hermione explained the tedious statistical progress of
classifying everyone's spells and coming up with the Power Levels. They were on a scale from
1-10 and it helped when Hermione was trying to determine the tactic she should use against them.
For example, Padma Patil rarely moved but had a strong complexity of spells. To rebut this,
Hermione barraged her with a variety of simple executables that prevented her from being able to
attack. Forced to move, Padma was reluctant to reveal her arsenal of potent spells.

It was common sense brutally broken down to irrefutable numbers.

“Where's your page?”

“I don't have my own. It would be biased. Only Neville has it,” Hermione explained. “And no,
you can't have it.”

“You never make it easy, Hermione,” Harry murmured with a smile. “Can I borrow the Hufflepuff
ones?”

“Go ahead, you can test it yourself tomorrow when you have Battle class.”

He thumbed through the pages,making copies of the Hufflepuffs. Finding Justin Finch-Fletchley,
Harry licked his thumb and folded the corner of his page, taking special care to mark Justin's
scouting report. A grim smile overtook his face, one Hermione mistook as being pleased to have the
numbers on hand.

As he looked at Justin's specifics, he said something that Granger wrongly interpreted.

“We just might be onto something, Hermione.”

* * * * * * *

Hermione ran over a few more explanations, but they were well into the night at that point and
protracting their stay would raise flags from their dorm mates. Resolving a time to meet next week,
Harry bid Hermione good-bye as he took the relatively short walk to the dungeons where the
Slytherin Common Room lay. He offered to escort Hermione back to the Gryffindor tower, but she
haughtily explained that she had traveled that road several times without his help.

Neither Tracey nor Blaise was awake by the time he returned, something Harry was thankful for
despite having an elaborate lie prepared. Retiring for the night, he dreamed of numbers and Granger
repeatedly crunching a Muggle calculator. When he awoke, he felt a renewed sense of purpose as he
waited all day to return to Battle class. Discretely reviewing all of the Hufflepuffs' scouting
reports, Harry entered Battle class with an extra spring in his step.

After watching a few lopsided duels, Harry was disappointed to hear himself matched up with
Zacharias Smith. The sadistic part of him so desperately wanted Justin Finch-Fletchley, but the
Hufflepuff boy would have to wait until another time. The arena this time was a relatively ho-hum
setting of a plain field. It was nothing like the jagged, rock arena that was the setting of his
duel with Granger.

Bowing slightly, Harry reviewed Smith's specifics.

*Smith Attacks:*

*Stupefy - 35%*

*Petrificus Totalus - 29%*

*Appendo - 24%*

*Flipendo - 12%*

*Range Factor - 6*

*Power Levels:*

*Attack - 5*

*Defense - 7*

*Movement - 4*

*Complexity - 3*

*Aggression Expectancy:*

*Stationary Attack - 43%*

*Stationary Defense - 30%*

*Movement Defense - 15%*

*Movement Attack - 12%*

He left out Protego usages as he found them unhelpful when trying to determine the best course
of action against Zach. Without these notes, he would have never known that Smith preferred using
spells that restricted or tried to impact movement. Both *Appendo* and *Flipendo* were
under the same classification of spells used to disrupt one's movement and judging by
Smith's over reliance on Stationary Attacks and Defenses, he wanted to have a strong core that
relied on pinning a player down. It was a wrestler's tactic.

Solution: Move ably, dodging his slow-moving spells. Circle Smith and avoid using strong spells
as he usually had an apt defense for it. Within close proximity, unleash a strong string of spells
to overwhelm him at close range.

It felt so simple, so easy. Did Granger feel the same way? Did she revel in the knowledge that
she was leading him into a trap that was childishly easy to predict? Is this how she rocketed to
the top of their class?

“Begin!” Snape started.

And Harry sprinted, half-dodging and half-observing.

“*Stupefy! Petrificus Totalus!”*

The two spells sprang out of his mouth, one quickly after another as Harry rolled along the
grass to avoid them. As he coiled his legs to spring out and quickly evade a follow up of
*Appendo* and another *Stupefy*, a maddening grin split Harry's face. He could feel
the solid and damp dirt beneath his feet and the wind whistling through his air as he pressed his
body to the ground again to avoid the duo of spells. The next few steps were so clear and so
evident and Harry could already imagine himself disarming Zacharias up close. The excitement and
adrenaline of knowledge poured through him as he zig-zagged closer and closer to the Hufflepuff,
but there was only one thought going through his mind.

*Granger was right*.

* * * * * *

“Remarkable, don't you think?”

“Not the exact word I would use, but the ease of which Potter dispatched Smith was compelling.
Perhaps you aren't so wrong about the Muggleborn.”

“The tactical improvements alone would be a boon. He feels at ease with her ideas. Have you
given any though of perhaps implementing her as his new Number Two?”

“Don't be so preposterous. That role is already filled. We need someone to obey his every
order, not someone who will question him at every turn.”

“Perhaps a bit of objectivity would be good for him. It wouldn't serve him well to surround
him with yes-men at every turn.”

“He is his own objective paragon. You may be correct that this relationship will allow him
access to new ideas, but he needs orders obeyed in the battlefield, not a second-guessing of
himself.”

“No. And that answer is final.”

“As you say...”

“Is there any progress on finding the Fourth?”

“The Marauder proves difficult to find. I have my sources in place, but ever since he
disappeared from the Weasleys, it has been quite the journey to find him. I'm afraid that he is
slipping further and further out of our grasp.”

“We should have known sooner. How many filthy rats could there possibly be in one
household?”

“It was a simple thing to overlook...for both of us.”

“The time table has been altered. His return might be sooner than we planned.

“Will Harry be ready before then?”

“He must. If not, this was all for naught.”

* * * * *

**A/N: I know, I know, I promised a quicker update, but I compromised and gave you a longer
update instead. Thoughts on Hermione's revelation? Are you surprised by her simplicity? I gave
a few hints on some future plot lines, but they're there to see for yourself. I hope to update
within this week again but its a battle of balancing chapter lengths with plot ideas. Hope to hear
from you via review. Thanks again**
 Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7
-->



10. Making A Point
------------------



Harry eagerly awaited their next session in the cave, but took great care to avoid lengthy
contact with Hermione in public. They neither looked at each other nor addressed each other as they
passed one another in the hallways. In the rare moments they crossed paths alone, only a curt head
nod was given, wary of anyone potential Houses watching.

Harry had dispatched Zacharias from Hufflepuff in less than a minute and honestly, it probably
should have been quicker. So elated he was with this seemingly omniscient knowledge of Smith's
behavior, he was off-target with his close quarters spell, recovering ever so slightly as Smith
tried to use a *Flipendo* in vain.

Meanwhile, Tracey had talked to a few people from other Houses. Harry had no doubt of her
ability to procure information. Trained by years of socialites in the Pureblood build, Tracey could
pluck every morsel of information while smiling and laughing in their face. It was a strangely
unique talent that gave her the illusion of being congenial while she secretly learned everything
she could from a person. She didn't let him down in this regard.

“There were seven students from the other Houses that weren't in their dormitories that
night. Padma Patil was complaining about Transfiguration with Mandy and they both crossed paths
with Anthony Goldstein, who was leaving the Common Room. Apparently, Goldstein was looking for
Michael Corner, who was also out that night,” Tracey explained, seated next to the Great Lake.

For a moment, Harry didn't answer as he stared down at the murky water. Somewhere below the
depths of the lake was the cave and its translucent ceiling. Harry resolved to ask Hermione how to
access the cave by himself, curious as to how the view was in the middle of the day with the sun
streaming through the water. Just as magnificent as it was as night he hoped.

“What about other years? Were there anyone from other years out at that time?” Harry asked.

“It's a lot harder to talk to the older kids. They'd think it was weird if I started
poking around,” Tracey cautioned.

“It's also rather unlikely for someone in another year to do that to me. They don't know
me well enough. It felt very...personal. Blaise, did you find out anything?”

“Looks like my money is drying up on the First Years. They're demanding a few more Sickles,
the little assholes. I'll try to tap on a few more people, but I think we run the risk of
raising a flag if we keep on hammering away at sources.” Blaise ran a hand along his shaved head,
his dark eyes looking at the Hogwarts castle wistfully.

Blaise hated the lake.

“You're right. Ease off for now. We have plenty of time to find them.”

“How about you, Harry?” Tracey asked, turning to him with her curious blue eyes. “You get
anything from Bones?”

Harry shook his head, his hair falling onto his glasses. “I haven't heard anything from
Susan. I'm also pretty convinced that I can ask Lovegood sometimes. She still owes me for that
Davies debacle.”

“Now all we need is someone from Gryffindor,” Tracey mused, “Do you know any potentials from
that stupid House?”

*Granger*.

“No,” Harry answered.

“They're significantly harder to pay off,” Blaise complained, unused to not getting his way.
“It's going to take a lot of work to get someone to talk from Gryffindor.”

“It can be done,” Harry said quietly.

“Maybe, but I did hear something from Lavender. That chatty bimbo can never keep her mouth
shut.” Leaning forward, Tracey eagerly spoke the next few sentences, “Apparently, Weasley and
Seamus were out that night. The catch is that they weren't the *only* ones out from
Gryffindor tower that night. Granger and Longbottom of all people were too!”

*Neville helps*.

Harry couldn't say anything, ruminating over Hermione's words. To what extent did
Longbottom help her? Were the two's disappearance that night in any way related? He dismissed
the idea that Longbottom was one of his attackers. The boy was too feeble to do such a thing.
Weasley and Finnigan, on the other hand, were as capable as Finch-Fletchley. Still, there was an
odd ring to that combination of names. Did they all really hate him so much?

“Longbottom? No way,” Blaise scoffed at the mere idea.

“Stranger things have happened.” Tracey pointed out.

“I wouldn't count on something that strange. Let's rule Longbottom out of that. Granger
too.”

“Why Granger?” Tracey frowned.

“Granger has no need to beat him up, the Mudblood already got him good the first time.” Blaise
guffawed.

“More or less,” Harry said in a clipped tone. “That leaves all these other people...”

Summoning a parchment, Harry placed it against his raised thigh and scribbled the names down on
it.

*Justin Finch-Fletchley (confirmed)*

*Anthony Goldstein*

*Michael Corner*

*Ron Weasley*

*Seamus Finnigan*

“From Slytherin?” Harry asked quietly.

Tracey shifted uncomfortably next to him, smoothing out her skirt as she parsed a glance around
her, mindful of any wandering ears. They were more or less isolated, no one within immediate
earshot of their spot by the lake.

“I didn't hear anyone leave the dormitory,” Blaise answered.

“Doesn't rule out anything though.”

Frustrated, Harry crumpled the paper and threw it in the lake, watching it dissolve in the
water. They were getting nowhere, compiling list of names that had no reasonable process of
elimination. Each suspect was as susceptible as the last and there was very little they could glean
from simply asking around. They needed something more direct.

“We have to spook Finch-Fletchley. Make him meet up with his pals,” Harry mused.

“But how do we do that?” Tracey sat up.

“Give him something to think about...”

* * * * * *

Harry beat Hermione to the cave this time, waiting impatiently for her outside the entrance.
Succesfully evading detection from the Slytherin Common Room, Harry remained in the shadows until
Granger approached the wall cautiously. He lightly tapped against the wall, using a signal they had
agreed upon earlier. Granger stopped, looking for him and nodded at Harry when he emerged from the
shadows.

“Come on. I don't want to stay out too late tonight,” she said.

*Is she ever not about business?* Harry smiled to himself as he trailed behind her into the
secret entrance to the cave. Tonight, it was his turn to teach her what he knew about large
movement strategies, but he had something different in mind than her rather straightforward
statistical approach.

They reached the atrium in time and Harry paused to marvel at the sight again. The aquatic life
above him was more active tonight, the Giant Squid more prominent in the background as well as a
few Mermen and Mermaids curiously looking at them through the glass.

“The glass must be magically protected, the Mermaids look at him but don't bother trying to
break it. It's not like I give them an excuse to do anything anyways,” Hermione explained,
reading his thoughts.

“It's just amazing.”

Hermione looked up, crossing her arms and smiling idly at the sight. “I guess it is. I've
been here so many times that I forget to appreciate the view sometimes.”

Smiling cheekily at her, he replied, “And what a view it is? Let's get started, shall
we?”

“Okay.” Hermione dropped her bag on the lone table in the giant room and rolled up her
sleeves.

“Alright. Give me your wand.”

Hermione blinked in confusion, her face impassively guarded. “Excuse me?”

“Your wand, give it to me.”

It was always a hostility to ask a wizard for their wand, especially when said wizard was about
to engage in some sort of dueling. Hermione was no different, despite her Muggle upbringing, and
she gave her wand to Harry begrudgingly, eying his own suspiciously. Harry plucked the wand out of
her hand, placing it on the table and instructed her to move away.

“What is this, Harry?” she asked suspiciously.

“Tonight's lesson: Adaptation. *Stupefy!”*

Luckily, Hermione's natural instincts kicked in at his poorly aimed spell and she rolled to
avoid the spell beam. Coming to her feet, she was furious and Harry held back a laugh at her
expression. He didn't know the full quote about a woman scorned, but he was sure it would be
apt at this moment.

“Harry, what are you -”

“*Expelliarmus!”*

It was a useless spell in reality as she had no wand to be disarmed from, but it could still
throw her back with a concussive force. She must have been more prepared this time, a veteran of
several duels as she dodged again.

“42% right?” Harry preemptively asked, cutting off her tirade.

“What?”

“My *Expelliarmus* is used 42% of the time according to you.”

“Yes! 42% *Expelliarmus*, 37% *Stupefy*, 11% *Bombarda*. You don't think I
know that? I've studied the scouting report more times than you could forget.” She reeled the
numbers off the top of her head expertly, managing to throw in a good dose of incredulity in her
statements.

“So smart, aren't you? It's your preparedness that gives you the advantage.
*Vinka!*”

She naturally dived, obviously unsure of the nature of the spell. *Vinka* was a low level
spell originating in Bulgaria. It wasn't regularly taught in the Hogwarts curriculum, but it
was mostly harmless. It was a triggered tripping spell, affecting a small area that was cast
upon.

But Hermione didn't know this.

She cast her gaze bewilderedly around, trying to determine the effects of the spell, but she was
obviously unnerved. It was just one spell, but Harry's theory seemed sound. Hermione, with her
steadfastly ruthless preparation, had a gap that correlated directly with her inability to control
a situation. Confronted with something she didn't know, she would struggle, much like the
unpredictable nature of House matches.

“What was that spe -”

“*Larocia!”*

*Larocia* was a low level spell taught in American schools. Harry had to look it up the
previous night and found exactly what he was looking for. *Larocia* was a large magical net,
the magical tangle visible to the normal eye. It was easily dispelled, different from normal
Binding curse in that it was a Charm instead of a Transfiguration.

But Hermione didn't know this.

She hesitated, trying to identify the spell and managed to avoid the brunt of it, but the
magical net coiled around her ankle, tripping her slightly and bringing her closer to the
*Vinka* area trigger. She knelt down, trying to peel off the magical net with her hand but
yelped as the magic stung her. It could only be dispelled with a wand.

“Harry, this is *unfair!* Give me my wand so I can fight you!”

“*Stupefy!”*

Again, she dodged this one easily, even hampered with the magical net around her ankle. She was
obviously comfortable adjusting to spells she knew, but had moments of hesitation when confronted
with unknown curses. Yet, that would be true of almost anyone. A true test would be something that
required a little more critical thought. He summoned her wand and tracked her eyes as she
unconsciously leaned forward, eager to retrieve it. Instead of tossing it to her, however, he threw
it not five feet from him on the ground. She discontentedly shifted on the balls of her feet,
acutely aware of how close it was to him.

He remained silent, waiting for her to make the first move and she followed the plan. Stumbling
forward, Hermione made a direct line for her wand.

“*Venka!”* He cast the spell close to her wand as a precaution then turned to her.
“*Poradio!*

She was unable to avoid this spell, a French disorientation charm that made her sway on her
feet. Harry allowed her a moment of reprieve, not really interested in besting her in a duel where
she had no wand. Instead, he was looking for something else, a moment of ingenuity.

“*Finite! Stupefy!”* Simultaneously releasing her from the disorientation charm and
shooting the stunner at her, Harry watched as she nimbly dodged the spell confidently, not three
feet from her wand. Unfortunately for her, the *Venka* spell activated as she tripped, falling
flat on her face. Her arm reached, but then Harry summoned her wand again and threw it in a
different direction, a couple more feet further away.

“Stop playing games, Potter!”

“Isn't this all just a game?” he taunted.

She scrambled towards her wand again and Harry was disappointed she didn't take the action
he wanted her to take. Instead, she zigged and zagged, completely ignoring the magical net on her
ankle as she desperately fought to get her wand. Harry sighed in frustration as he casted a few
more trapping spells, watching as she stumbled trying to reach her wand. Summoning her wand again,
he threw it somewhere else.

“Come on, Granger!”

She huffed and glared, determined to reach her wand and bypassed another opportunity as she
tried to time the *Venka* curse again. It was unfair what he was he doing, but that wasn't
the point of this exercise. By the time she would reach her wand, she would be exhausted anyway. It
baffled him that someone so obviously genius couldn't see the alternate means of victory, but
that was her problem. She struggled to think outside the box because she was so dominant within the
box.

After the sixth or seventh time he summoned her wand away, she threw her hands in frustration
and stopped chasing her tail.

“What's the point of this, Potter?! I get it, you can beat me when I don't have my wand.
Bravo!”

“Did you ever consider attacking me?”

“I am attacking you!”

Harry sighed as he flicked her wand away again, Granger scurrying after it like a fingerless
rodent. Her resilience surprised him; he was sure she would give up after the first few times, but
she seemed to think there was some game in retrieving her wand as she started timing her steps and
taking fake jab steps to see if he would summon it away.

Of course, that wasn't the point of the exercise.

She finally stopped, panting from overexertion as she bent over and put her hands on her knees,
her bushy hair hanging below her in a tangled mess.

“I've had enough.”

“Finally,” Harry muttered. “Did you ever think of *physically* attacking me?”

She shook her head. “Why would I do that? Was the whole point of this to increase my hand to
hand combat skills? I already know who's going to be the winner of that battle.”

“No, the whole point of this was for you to assess *all* of your options. You were so
obsessed about getting your wand and trying to beat me that you didn't see the obvious
solution. Not only that, but you clam up against spells you don't know.”

“Everyone would *clam up* against spells they don't know!” She air quoted the words
with more than a tinge of sarcasm in her voice.

“Hermione, you need to see everything. You need to think outside the box. You need to lose that
singular focus to have things go your way. Things aren't always going to go the way you neatly
plan them in your head. Do you understand that?”

She huffed, clearly not used to being told that she was wrong or that she didn't do
something right. But she didn't rebut his claim and Harry knew that she was aware of this
problem of planned perfection. In large House matches, things were out of your control. Your fellow
mates were likely to ignore you or perform their own way. Even in the best of circumstances, with
everyone listening to you, there was still the added uncertainty of not only the environment but
the larger scale movements of the other House.

Hermione's problem was that when things didn't go exactly as she planned it, she
struggled to create an immediate back-up. It wasn't so much having a Plan B, but more of an
ever changing Plan, ready to adjust and compensate at any time.

“How do you do it then?” she asked.

“Assume you know nothing.”

Again, Hermione wrinkled her nose, unused to being told to forget her vast expanse of knowledge.
But that was the key to confronting unknown situations. Assume nothing and adjust accordingly. Once
a certain bias was put into place, there were only so many permutations of victory that could be
envisioned.

“Is there anything else for tonight?” she asked haughtily.

“No.” Harry levitated her wand back to her. “I think that was enough embarrassment for one
night.”

She grasped the piece of wood gratefully, returning to the lone table in the cave and plopping
down in the chair unceremoniously. Calmly placing the wand on the table, she procured a notebook
from her bag and proceeded to write in it. Harry snorted as he pulled up the chair opposite from
her, looking up through the glass ceiling to watch the murky depths above.

The scratching of quill against parchment, combined with the sway of the seaweed, lulled Harry
into a contemplative state as he continued to arch his neck upwards. There was much to be learned
from Granger, that much was for certain. Her studious nature bordered on obsessive and she was his
equal when it came to reviewing previous duels and battles. Her intellect was superior to his, of
that he didn't doubt, but there was a certain lack of creativity to her skill set. She saw
things in cold, hard data and facts and sometimes missed the forest from the trees.

“Tell me something about yourself, Harry,” she said, interrupting his musings.

“What do you mean?”

She spared a glance between her writings and said, “You're an interesting character,
don't you know? I've read all these things in books about your life and hear all these
things about Harry, the dangerous Slytherin, but....you're rather...straightforward.”

“You don't strike me as the type to believe all of these second-hand sources.”

“Why do you think I'm trying to get the word from the Hippogriff's mouth?”

Harry laughed at the turn of phrase. “You already know about me, as I'm sure the history
books have told. What about you? I know nothing about you.”

“What's there to know?” She shrugged.

Harry leaned forward and placed his chin on the cupping of his hands. “Let's see if I can
get this right. Judging by the amount of studying you do, your parents placed a high priority on
education. Seeing as how you use a rigorous and scientific study method, your parents were probably
educators, maybe even professors? You're distrustful, as no one can ever really say you have a
sunny demeanor, but you're also keenly aware of independent data and facts. That's why
you're not so hostile to me. You've seen that I'm not the big bad Slytherin that
everyone in Gryffindor makes me out to be. Still, you were probably picked on as a child.
That's why you're so distrustful of everyone in general, even of people in Gryffindor. You
wear your intelligence as a shield, trying to place yourself above the fray by accumulating as much
knowledge as possible. You're awkward around other girls, evidenced by the fact that you never
seem to be around the Brown or Patil girl. You probably don't have sisters since you're not
seeking out female friends and you don't strike me as the kind of person that takes on friends
easily, so only child? How close am I?”

He didn't know how she would take the breakdown of her behavior. Would she be offended?
Outraged? Instead, she smiled, the left side of her lips inching higher in a condescending
smirk.

“My parents are dentists.”

“Dentists?” Harry asked incredulously. “Bollocks that. I've always wondered how people
decide to go into dentistry.”

She closed her book carefully, marking the page by folding down a corner as she laid her quill
on top of it. Folding her hands over the whole set, she returned fire.

“Your reluctance to divulge anything about yourself tells me that you're also don't
trust people easily. You dodge it easily, and lying comes natural to you. Why should I be
surprised? You're a Slytherin after all. But there's a reason you learned to lie so well.
Perhaps you didn't tell your guardians everything? Perhaps you didn't tell your Muggle
schoolmates everything either? You felt early on that you didn't belong and that's why
you've learned to lie so well. You do it to assimilate as you think you stand out, not least of
all because of the scar on your forehead. It became even more pronounced when you came here and
despite the bevy of Slytherins that follow you in battle, you regularly confide in only two: Zabini
and Davis. Above all else, you want to be treated equally but at the same time, you want to be
recognized. That's why you work so hard with these duels and battles. You don't know want
to be known as the Boy-Who-Lived as you think thats undeserved. You want to be the
Boy-Who-Won.”

“Impressive, to say the least.”

“You're not the only one who people watches, Potter.”

“And how long have you been watching me?”

She stood up and placed her belongings back in her bag, a clear signal that their conversation
was finished. Yet, Harry caught a hint of a smile on her face as she said, “For a while.”

* * * * *

Justin Finch-Fletchley said good-bye to Susan as he left the library, knackered from another
night of Transfiguration studies. He swore that McGonagll did it just to spite them, regularly
slamming them with homework just as another round of House matches were coming up. Hufflepuff
comfortably 2nd behind Slytherin of all Houses with Gryffindor in 3rd and Ravenclaw trailing the
rest. It would be another grueling week and he hoped that they wouldn't draw Slytherin.

He walked quickly, eager to return to his dormitory and fall asleep as soon as his head hit the
pillow. The nights were getting colder as they descended into the winter months and Justin had to
pull his robe around him tighter as his pace quickened. A shrill wind blew through the cavernous
hallways, whistling along his ears.

Justin froze as he heard a noise, a scuffle of feet. His hand gripping his wand tightly, Justin
twirled around and shielded his eyes from the bright light in his face.

“Calm yourself, Mr. Finch-Fletchley,” said the raspy voice.

“Professor Lupin!” Justin exclaimed breathlessly. “I thought you were...”

“...not myself, obviously,” Lupin replied dryly, “It's almost curfew, Justin. Get to your
Common Room.”

Justin looked at the shabbily dressed professor and nodded, lowering his wand and tucking it
into his robes again. The fear of a different type of confrontation ebbed away as he resumed the
last leg of his journey back to the Hufflepuff Common Room. Their Common Room was in a little nook
near the kitchens, leading to a circular basement that housed the residents of Helga
Hufflepuff's House. The subterranean level made it closer to the Slytherin Common Room compared
to other Houses, a fact Justin readily used to his advantage.

Unfortunately, the Slytherins knew this too.

The ropes converged around his ankles and he toppled quickly. Reflexively pulling out his wand,
Justin yelped as his wand was deftly disarmed. He heaved his chest, prepared to scream but when he
opened his mouth, nothing came out. Another spell hit him from the dark as his arms snapped against
his body.

*Petrificus Totalus*, he thought. There he was, silenced and frozen without his wand and it
only took a few more moments until they blindfolded him, removing him of every sense but his
hearing. There were no words, just a levitation spell and a shuffle of feet as they moved him. His
bowels were actively moving and Justin feared that the retaliation would be brutal. It had to be,
it just had to be...

He felt his back touch something smooth but he couldn't tell what it was, the blindfold
still incapacitating him. Experimentally, he tried to wriggle his arms, but they were still frozen
against his body. Listening closely, he could hear the distant shuffling of feet and the footsteps
eventually faded away in the background. What was he doing? Was he working alone?

Suddenly, Justin regretted the mess he had suddenly inherited.

The wait was indomitably aggravating as he steeled himself for the punishment they would dole
out, but nothing came. There was only the whistling silence of the wind and the murmurs from the
edge of the castle. If he could speak, only a whimper would escape. His breathing became labored,
deep gasps that he hoped would make *him* sympathetic. Merlin only knew what he would do.

But nothing came.

And so Justin waited for hours on end, unable to sleep as he awaited the inevitable retaliation.
Yet, it was the painful silence and the prolonged fear of the unknown that made his stomach turn
over and over. After quite some time, it was obvious they had left him alone. The only question was
- where was he?

* * * * *

Susan awoke early as usual, characteristically ten minutes ahead of her dorm mates. She liked
beating the morning rush for breakfast and this morning was no different. Quickly showering and
fixing her auburn hair, Susan made her way out of the Hufflepuff Basement and marched up the stairs
to the Great Hall, only to find a cluster of students blocking her way.

“What's going on?” Susan asked Padma Patil.

Padma, rarely rendered speechless, stuttered, “Uh...look...”

She pointed a manicured finger towards the Hufflepuff table and Susan covered her mouth in shock
and surprise. There, on the table, was Justin Finch-Fletchley. His face was painted with little
lines and squiggles and food was gathered around him like some sort of sacrificial offering.
Judging by his immobility, Justin was unable to move from the table. Just then, the Gryffindors and
Ravenclaws entered from the other end of the Great Hall and spotted the strange predicament.

At first, it was just a spare chuckle but the laughter grew at the sight of the strange table
set. Soon, even some of the Hufflepuffs that were slowly gathering laughed at Justin. It was only
after Professor Lupin arrived and removed the spells that Justin hopped up, sprinting out of the
Great Hall with reckless abandon.

As he passed her, Susan noted that his expression was more terrified than embarrassed and that
his eyes were wide and wild. He brushed past her, stumbling as he did and turned the corner only to
fall flat on his arse. The Slytherin contingent had arrived and Justin had accidentally ran into
Harry Potter.

Potter pulled back at the sight of the figurines drawn on Justin's face and queried, “What
happened to you?”

Justin's face paled even more as Malfoy and some other Slytherins roared in vacuous
laughter. Justin gulped, not saying a word as he kept his eyes on Potter. He was seemingly frozen,
unable to move under the gaze of the Boy-Who-Lived. It was only after Zach gave him a nudge did the
boy finally move.

“Nice face, Finch-Fletchley!” Malfoy yelled after him as Justin stumbled to the Hufflepuff
Basement.

Susan looked up to find Potter staring at her with just the barest hint of amusement. Her heart
raced, a strange nervousness suddenly filling her pipes. There was something about the glint in his
eyes and the tiny smirk on the edge of his lips.

“Guess you have to be careful these days, right Bones?” Harry rhetorically asked.

*Careful indeed*.

She about faced, turning towards the Hufflepuff table and unable to shake the sheer terror from
Justin's face.

* * * * *

**A/N: Estimate update time: 9 days**

**There are a few key points hinted at in this chapter that are relatively low-key. Points to
the person who can spot the foreshadowing. There are some obvious influences to this chapter from
other stories. Points again to the other works referenced in this chapter. Again, thank you all for
the continued support and I appreciate all your kind words as well as your criticism and
reviews.**
 Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7
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11. The Fall
------------



“Who's up next?”

Blaise slid into the seat next to Harry as the Boy-Who-Lived retrieved his timetable. The
never-ending rotations continued and Harry spared a glance at the Lists. For the Third Years,
Slytherin was currently first due to their victory against Ravenclaw. Hufflepuff was second due to
their victory against Gryffindor. Since Slytherin defeated Ravenclaw by a larger margin,
numerically and strategically, they were placed ahead.

Unfortunately, the blockbuster start with the Master List had faded somewhat as Harry continued
to slip. He was in 28th place now, which was still far ahead of the rest of his classmates, but
definitely not 10th. His showing against Zach from Hufflepuff didn't do him any favors even
though he had dispatched him in record time. There would be time again for individual duels, but
Harry switched his focus to the next House match.

“Take a look at that.” Blaise grinned conspiratorially as he pointed at the timetable. “Looks
like Hufflepuff is up next.”

Harry glanced towards the black and yellow table to find their current target. Justin
Finch-Fletchley was sandwiched between Zach and Ernie MacMillan. His head was down, held low to his
food and he was seated so his back was to the Slytherin table. That was no coincidence. Harry also
surmised the fact that Susan Bones sitting so far away from Justin was also no coincidence.

“Do we have an eye on the Hufflepuff room?” Harry wanted to know.

“I have a group of First Years around the clock, two Galleons for two hours each. There's an
alcove next to the barrels that keep them hidden and an eye on the room. So far nothing, but I
think it's only a matter of time before the wanker goes and finds his masters,” Blaise
answered.

“Where do you get all this money?”

“My Mum has a habit of...getting value from her marriages.”

“Value indeed,” Harry murmured as he watched Justin eat. He meant to unnerve the blond boy with
the Great Hall stunt and if his expression in the immediate aftermath was any indication, their
ruse was largely successful. All that was left was for Justin to lead them back to the rest of the
bullies.

“The First Years - you've instructed them to just watch, right? It won't do us any good
for them to be found.”

“I picked the tiniest and most cowardly finds I could find. Peter and Thomas if you want to know
their names.” Blaise jutted his chin towards the other end of the table to a pair of mousy boys who
were currently teasing one of the First Year girls.

“No, that's fine. Just make sure they don't get caught.”

Blaise suddenly nudged Harry's side not so discretely. “Incoming.”

Incoming indeed. Draco Malfoy was making his way towards them, a purposeful stride full of self
importance. The blond wonder had quieted down somewhat after the rest of Slytherin disobeyed his
orders during their House match against Ravenclaw, but he was far too full of himself to keep away
for too long.

“Hello, Tracey,” Draco flashed a cool smile at her. “I was wondering if I could talk to you
alone.”

Harry fully expected her to brush him off, but to his surprise, she smiled and said, “Sure.”

*What's this all about?*

Harry tried to give her a questioning glance, but she barely spared him a look. Instead, she
stood up and followed Draco out of the Great Hall without so much as a good-bye to them. Harry
followed them carefully, watching as they appeared to chat animatedly.

“What's she on about?” Harry wondered aloud.

“Suppose we'll take a look?” Blaise offered, but Harry was already half-way out of his seat,
following the pair as they exited the Great Hall.

“Guess we will,” Blaise muttered.

Harry followed the path he saw them take, turning left out of the Great Hall into an adjacent
corridor. He paused as he heard voices, signaling for Blaise to do the same as they crept closer
without risking detection. Harry heard that melodic laugh of Tracey's and wondered what in the
world Malfoy could possibly say that would elicit such a response.

“...I know what you mean. My parents are on me about it all the time,” she said.

“I don't think having rich parents are the only thing we have in common.” The smugness in
Draco's voice was almost too much for Harry to bear. “Why do you hang out with those losers
anyways? Potter's a Half-Blood and Zabini's Mum has gotten around more than Wenchy
Wilda.”

“Well, he *is* the Boy-Who-Lived.”

Harry and Blaise turned to each other with inquisitive expressions. This just didn't sound
like Tracey at all. Why would she say such things?

Draco characteristically snorted at the description. “My father doesn't think so highly of
him, but I suppose it is important to Slytherin. I'm more interested in us though.”

“Us?” She teased coquettishly.

“Come to Hogsmeade with me. It'll be a precursor to visiting the Manor over break.”

“I've heard grand things about the Manor. A very large estate.”

“My Mum has wanted to see a visit for quite some time. What do you say, Trace?”

Harry could see Tracey hemming and hawing and he hoped she would end the charade and tell him
no. Instead, she smiled and answered, “I'll have to think about it but it does sound very
tempting.”

There was some more flirting and back and forth repartee, but Harry slumped back against the
wall, annoyed and tense. Blaise looked more surprised than anything else, yet continued listening
to the conversation, ever the gossiper. Harry didn't want to hear anymore.

“Come on,” Harry tugged Blaise's arm. “Let's go prepare for Hufflepuff.”

“But...” Blaise gestured towards the conversing couple.

“Now, Blaise,” Harry glowered.

* * * * * *

Harry avoided sitting next to Blaise or Tracey during the next period of Magical Creatures.
Instead, he sat in the front besides a beleaguered Padma Patil. She looked at him as if he had
grown a tail when he plopped down next to her, but one stricken look shut her up. He could feel
Tracey's eyes on him but his annoyance with her stayed with him throughout the period.
Concentrating on Professor Lupin's lesson on dragons, Harry hastily gathered his things at the
end of the period and scurried away to Strategy class, this time sitting next to Granger.

She looked slightly alarmed as he sat down with her.

“What are you doing?” she hissed, already attracting curious looks from the rest of the
Gryffindors.

“Sitting. Isn't it obvious?”

“What are you doing?” Weasley echoed, reinforcing the dimness of Gryffindor. He stood next to
him, towering above him with his prepubescent growth spurt.

By now, even the Slytherins were eying him curiously, wondering why he was seated next to
Granger. Longbottom bundled in and stopped on the spot, looking back and forth between he and
Granger.

“What are you doing?” he asked, but Harry didn't know if it was directed to himself or the
fellow Gryffindor.

*Merlin, are they all so dense?*

“Last I checked, Mr. Potter has a right to sit where he chooses.”

It was Professor Trow, coming to complete the circle of befuddled Gryffindors standing around
Harry and Hermione. He looked at Weasley and Longbottom, not quite glaring but sternly in such a
manner that would have made the crabby McGonagall proud.

Weasley and Longbottom took their time picking their seats, Weasley glaring at Harry and
Longbottom sending furtive glances towards Granger. Luckily, Granger seemed to have taken it in
stride, ignoring everyone around them as she brought forth her usual writing materials. Harry
chanced a look at Blaise and one dark, arched eyebrow was all he needed to relay. Tracey was
plaintively looking at her desk.

Oddly, Harry felt a strange sense of satisfaction from that.

“Shall we begin?” Trow opened with a question but it was a formality.

“At some point in time, you will find yourself at a disadvantage. Maybe you lost a couple
members earlier in a match. Maybe you were purposefully set up to lose. Either way, despair will
run high when you are outnumbered. To counter-act this, you must calm yourselves and look at the
big picture, so to speak. You will not suddenly wipe out your numerous enemies. *None* of you
are that strong. Instead, you must stay on the course and gain ground meter by meter.”

The projection screen at the front of the classroom rolled down again as Trow stepped behind the
projector. He inserted a roll and clicked the side of the contraption, playing it for the
class.

“This is Gryffindor vs. Slytherin five years ago. The Slytherins lost an early number in the
match and are whittled down to a force of four versus nine. As you can see, this setting is
particularly difficult. They are on a jagged mountain edge where elevation is a key problem. Does
anyone want to posit as to how Slytherin should proceed?”

Granger's hand immediately shot up, her face determined as she stared at the projection on
the screen.

“Ms. Granger?”

Clearing her throat, she said, “They should consolidate their forces and take the high ground,
forcing the Gryffindors to attack them from a weaker position.”

“That would be the correct assumption. Gryffindor also knows this and will attempt to cut them
off as so.” Trow swished his wand and the replay resumed, showing the Gryffindors taking a
protective position against a pathway that led to higher ground.

“Anyone?” Trow walked around calmly, his wand lightly bouncing in his hand.

“Patience.” Tracey spoke up, glancing down at Harry momentarily before she continued. “The
Slytherins need to be patient and lure the Gryffindors down the mountain towards them. The
Gryffindors will be weary of leaving the high ground, but that's the only way the Slytherins
can win if the Gryffindors blocked it off.”

Without really thinking, Harry responded immediately, “I think they should concentrate the rest
of their group and try to punch a hole to the top. Once there, they can double back and defend from
their superior position. No point in...hiding.”

Trow stood at the front of the class and opened his arms. “What do you think class? Who agrees
with Ms. Davis? Who thinks Mr. Potter is right?”

The Gryffindors shifted uncomfortably, seeing as how their house wasn't represented in the
answer. Fortunately, one of them remembered they were known as the house of bravery.

“I think Tracey's right,” Granger said.

This time, Harry couldn't repress the eye roll as the girl next to him spoke up. Must
everything always be about being right with her? Internally, a slight tinge of annoyance twanged
within his chest. Was he wrong? The Gryffindors, following Granger's lead, unanimously raised
their hands in favor of Tracey's plan.

“And for Mr. Potter's?” Trow asked.

A hesitant raising of hands - Daphne, Goyle, Crabbe, Nott - was all the support Harry received.
Blaise had raised his hand for Tracey as had Malfoy. The latter infuriated Harry even more so,
bringing him to a palpable simmer. Granger turned to look at him, only raising her eyebrows in
surprise.

“The majority of the class would be correct. It would be much more advantageous if the
Slytherins allowed the Gryffindors to follow them down the cliff side,” Trow answered
diplomatically.

“That's rather cowardly of them,” Harry petulantly replied.

There was a sharp, feminine intake of breath from behind him. Yet, Harry didn't turn, only
staring placidly at a bemused Trow.

“It is not cowardice to retreat in the face of insurmountable odds, Mr. Potter. Sometimes the
best move is to tactically fall back in order to play off the arrogance of the enemy.”

“Well, I think that's suspending self-belief. They could take them on.”

“Perhaps...but relying on the power superiority of ones self is no way to devise a battle plan,
Mr. Potter. This group of Slytherins *may* be stronger, but there is no quantifiable way to
measure that. That possible superior talent might also be negated by the elevation disadvantage. It
is far more potent to conduct a battle plan based on tactics and strategy than the foolhardy belief
of ones invincibility.”

It wasn't patronizing or lecturing or demeaning, but Trow definitely reeled off the
explanation in such a manner that shut Harry up. For once, Harry wasn't leaning forward at the
edge of his seat. Instead, he slumped backwards, crossing his arms as he stared at the projection
defiantly. Continuing, Trow swished his wand and watched Slytherin do exactly what Harry said.

The group of four crept up the smaller pathway to higher ground, stealthily moving from boulder
to boulder to avoid detection for as long as possible. The Gryffindors had split up into a group of
4 and a group of 5 to guard the two pathways upwards. The Slytherins sprung at once, trying to
blast their way upwards to regain the advantage and for a moment, it looked to have worked. But the
Gryffindors quickly regained their composure and beat them down until there was only one Slytherin
left.

“As you can see, it was foolish of the Slytherins to try and engage them from a lesser position.
The lesson to learn here is that it is *okay* to retreat. Sometimes, subterfuge is the better
option.”

Trow ended his lesson and didn't say anything else, but Harry couldn't help but feel
that the old man's eyes were lingering on him as he left the classroom.

* * * * *

Harry beat a straight line towards the Room of Requirement, hoping to head off any of the other
Slytherins making their way there. He was steaming from that lesson and needed a moment to cool off
before entering Battle class. This was especially true given their next opponent. He was looking
forward to challenging Hufflepuff. A fast clatter of footsteps indicated he wasn't alone,
however. Harry didn't turn, keeping up his brisk pace as he veered around the corridor with his
bag strapped tightly to his side.

“Harry, wait!”

*Retreat! Retreat!*

“Harry, *stop!*”

A breathless Tracey Davis finally caught up with the enigmatic Boy-Who-Lived. She huffed as she
slowed down, finally in step with him though he still kept the same pace.

“I need to talk to you,” she said between heavy breathes.

“Well, come on, hurry.”

“Slow down, dammit!”

She forcefully tugged on his arm, bringing them to a stand still in the middle of the corridor
between classes. A few older Ravenclaws dawdled by, staring at them curiously but one annoyed
glance from Harry sent them on their way. There were still a few perks from being the boy who
defeated a Dark Lord, age be damned.

“Tracey, what is it? We have Battle class next.” Harry shrugged off her arm, acutely
uncomfortable with the physical contact. Normally, he wouldn't have minded from her, but this
was a extenuating circumstance.

“It's about this morning.” She glared at him incredulously. “I need to talk to you about
Malfoy.”

Harry pursed his limps impatiently, tapping his foot on the ground as he waited for her to
continue. Tracey stuck her tongue along her cheek, still miffed that he was in such a hurry.

“I talked to him this morning to try and get a better feel.” Harry cringed at the choice of
words. “I wanted to see if he knew anything about the attacks on you. I didn't get a straight
answer, but I think I can pry something out of him if I continue pretending that I'm
interested.”

“Pretending?”

“Yeah. I figured that was the best way to get some information out of him.”

“Is that so?”

Harry felt...*relieved*? He didn't know if that was the exact feeling after hearing the
words of out Tracey's mouth but it was something akin to that. The realization that Tracey was
playing Malfoy definitely inspired a better feeling than the current brew that was residing in his
chest.

“That's good,” Harry murmured. Still, he started walking, albeit at a much slower pace. “If
we can get Malfoy to start yapping away then we can rule out Slytherin even faster.”

“Exactly!”

Tracey fleshed out the details of their conversation, but Harry tuned her out, already having
listened to it. He considered telling her about their eavesdropping but thought better of it.
Reminding himself to tell Blaise the same, Harry was in much better spirits as he arrived at the
door of the Room of Requirement. Spotting Finch-Fletchley, Harry nodded at Blaise as he saw the
dark-skinned boy arrive.

Blaise subtly nodded back, already privy to their arranged agreement should one of them
encounter Justin alone. The Hufflepuff looked none at ease as he stood, clustered within his own
House. It took a moment before the Headmaster arrived, clipping along with his usual languid walk.
Staring down at them from his nose, the professor walked three times across the door of the
Room.

“The Hufflepuffs will enter first. Given the construct, the Slytherins will enter next but will
be on the opposite side. I will be watching.”

The instructions were simple and straight forward as always. The Headmaster was not a person of
frills and frivolities. Hufflepuff did indeed enter first, but Harry made sure to catch
Justin's eye as the boy entered.

*I'm coming for you*, Harry thought, hoping Justin could hear.

The Slytherins were next, entering the Room in single file. Harry was last and as the door
closed behind him, he marveled at what Snape's mind had created.

* * * * * *

The buildings stretched into the sky, tan and dilapidated but still standing. It was an entire
city, filled with tight alleys and garbage that filled Harry's nostrils with an odor akin to a
Dungbomb. The sun overhead cast a harsh, trapping heat that was only made worse by the swirling
wind. It was the wind that irritated him the most, full of sand and suffocation that forced him to
squint.

“Well, bloody hell...” Malfoy uttered.

For once, Harry agreed with him.

If Snape stated that Hufflepuff started opposite to them, then that would mean they would be
directly forward through the buildings. Yet, Harry doubted the Hufflepuffs would take a straight
line. Judging by what he knew of the House, they would most likely move in one, large group, trying
to stay together for solidarity's sake.

“On me!” Harry yelled as he rushed towards the buildings, not wanting to stand out in the open
desert.

Harry had hoped to enter one of the buildings but found no doors on them. Looking around, he
quickly surmised that *none* of the buildings had doors. Snape meant for them to find this
battle outside in the crowded alleys, an environmental trap.

“Buildings are closed off,” Blaise had to raise his voice over the din of the wind. “These
alleys aren't going to be helpful, Harry.”

“I don't think there's a way of telling how far they are, Potter.” Pansy leaned across a
corner, weary of the distance between themselves and the Hufflepuffs. “Or how big this scenario
is.”

Buildings prevented any further sight line and all that surrounded them was an endless,
monotonous desert. The fight would be had within, the only question was where. Harry didn't
like that one bit. It was one thing to fight without knowing where the enemy was, but fighting
blind in tight corners and alleys would quickly deteriorate into a massive free for all. He
didn't quite judge the discipline of his House just yet. The Slytherins were supposed to be
better at subterfuge, but so far, Harry lead them in a more conventional manner. There had to be
something else.

Harry coughed, trying to breath as little of the biting wind as he could. Tucking into an
alcove, Harry motioned for them to gather around. Even Malfoy, ever the power-obsessed runt, looked
uncomfortable at the prospect of facing the Hufflepuffs in such close quarters. Everyone knew he,
of all people, didn't like getting his hands dirty.

*Quickly. Quickly now.*

“Blaise, Tracey, go a block down and keep an eye out. I'll signal you when we need to
regroup. Everyone else...”

Harry trailed off as he looked upwards. It was their only shot of gaining an upper hand.

“Someone conjure a rope,” Harry ordered.

Daphne managed to transfigure one out of a clay pot that was jammed against a wall. Taking aim,
Harry pinned it to the top of one of the buildings. Giving it a testing tug, Harry was assured of
its viability.

“What's that for, Potter?” Malfoy asked, pushing his quickly disheveled blond hair out of
his eyes.

“One second.” Harry made sure to fasten his gray robes around him, not wanting any stray pieces
to get caught on any potential debris above.

“Split into two groups and run parallel to each other. That way, you can flank them when you
find them. Malfoy, head one group. Nott and Pansy, follow Blaise and Tracey.”

“Now, wait just one second Potter...” Pansy placed her hands on her hips.

“No time,” Harry quickly cut her off. “Travel parallel going Northeast. They won't take a
steady course and that's my best bet. When you see the green sparks, that's where they are.
Prepare for a lot of spells coming at you and *keep your heads with it*.” Harry had to
emphasize the last part, not wanting them to fall into a panic in such sequestered corridors.

“But what are you going to do?” Nott wondered.

“Get you some eyes from above.”

Harry reeled in Tracey and Blaise and repeated the instructions. They had the same questions as
how he would locate the Hufflepuffs ahead of them. Not wanting to waste any time, Harry relayed a
few more directions as he walked over to the rope that was still attached to the top of the tallest
building in their sight.

“Just follow the green sparks. That's where they'll be,” Harry said one last time.

“But Harry, what are you doing?” Tracey bewilderedly asked.

“Go!” Harry yelled as the roar of the wind grew louder.

“*Ascencio!”*

The rope quickly retracted, jolting Harry off his feet and for a second, he almost lost his
grip. Fortunately, he held tight as the wind whistled through his ears, his stomach wobbly from the
sudden ascent. It was supposed to a house cleaning spell but Harry reverse engineered it to
slingshot him towards the roof. He tucked his head in, feeling his glasses slip from the bridge of
his nose.

Suddenly, there was a moment of zero gravity as Harry hung suspended once the rope disappeared.
Swinging himself forward from the momentum, Harry collapsed on the roof awkwardly, his knees
bashing against the rough concrete. Wincing slightly, Harry looked over the edge at the small dots
below. He couldn't see their facial expressions but judging from their lack of movement, they
were more than a little surprised.

*Go!*

Harry mentally yelled at them and waived his arm in a wheel, telling them to move forward.
Someone must have finally snapped out of it as they split into the two groups he ordered and
started their trek northeast. Harry watched them for a moment before standing up, wrapping his
combat robes tightly around him.

The wind was even louder and faster at this altitude and Harry had to keep a hand over his mouth
to breathe correctly. His heart raced, seeing the outlay before him. The city extended for a couple
miles before abruptly ending into another oblivious desert. It was roughly a square that extended
nearly 15 to 20 blocks. A large distance and even though the setting was a bit different, Harry
knew what it was supposed to be.

A maze.

Walking forward, Harry peered over the edge, trying to judge the distance to the next building.
It was a clearing of less than ten feet and the elevation was to his advantage. The most difficult
part would be aiming the Cushioning Charm in mid-air so he didn't break his legs from the jump.
Hopefully, each building would bring him closer to the Hufflepuffs and keep him ahead of the
Slytherins so he could warn them in time.

Taking a few steps back, Harry pulled his robes tightly around him again. Breathing deeply,
Harry tried to calm his suddenly racing heart. It was a dangerous prospect and Harry didn't
know what would happen if he didn't make the jump. Would he die? Would he suffer any damage?
How far was Snape willing to let this go? Judging from previous simulations, Harry knew there would
be a certain amount of pain to it. He doubted he would actually die, but it would definitely be
gratuitously painful. Could he do it?

*Oh sod it all.*

Harry broke into a run, hoping he timed the steps right and launched himself into the air, his
legs still kicking as he gave an almighty yell. Pointing his wand at the building below, Harry only
had a split second to yell, “*Arresto Momentum!”*

*It worked!*

His feet landed softly on the building, sparing him of a painful jarring of his legs. Harry
laughed, the shot of adrenaline getting the best of him as he temporarily forgot the biting air and
the looming battle ahead. For a moment, he was just a boy leaping across chasms. His smile faded as
he collected himself, the sobering reminder that Hufflepuff was marching along without the
Slytherins knowing yet.

Continuing the process, Harry leaped from building to building, making sure to check all the
corners for any movement. He was halfway across the improvised city when he spotted them. It was a
long column of dull, gray robes pockmarked with yellow badges. He was right. The Hufflepuffs moved
as one, snaking along the alleys in one monolithic group. The last time he spotted the Slytherins,
they were due east at about 4 blocks.

Pointing his wand in the air, Harry shot green sparks in the air. After a moment's pause,
Harry spotted four Slytherins slinking around a corner, heading towards the Hufflepuffs. The plan
was working. Harry then lay flat on the roof, watching the Hufflepuff group slowly make its way
South. He started counting them, trying to see if he could find a way to ensure all of their
locations.

*Seven, Eight, Nine...*

*There is no ten.*

Harry rolled as the spell splashed against the ground near him. In one smooth and practiced
motion, he came to his feet with his wand drawn in the ready position and found himself face to
face with Justin Finch-Fletchley. He tried to recall Granger's notes about him, but he was
filled with anger and sharply attuned vengeance. The suddenly spastic winds didn't help his
concentration either.

“*Bombarda! Flangella!”*

They were spells meant to harm, Harry knew, as he dodged them nimbly. Justin was on the same
rooftop and had the momentary advantage, but Harry knew he was the better duel. The shouts below
alerted a greater duel, but Harry quickly zeroed in on the target before him. They traded spells
again, a sparring blow that was deflected by quickly summoned shields and feints. Unusually, Justin
had a plan that forced Harry to keep on his toes. Justin was occupying the middle of the roof while
keeping Harry on the outside. Thus, Harry was constantly forced to check his heels as to not topple
over the edge to a potentially deadly fall.

Frustrated, Harry tried to press him backwards but Justin fought with some renewed courage,
holding his ground at Harry's brute force attack. Parrying, Justin sent Harry reeling backwards
with a series of spells that were definitely *not* in Granger's notebook. Pushed back
against the edge, Harry made the only logical move. Sprinting towards the edge, Harry hurtled over
the chasm, leaping towards the adjacent building. By now, timing the Cushioning Charm was routine
and Harry landed gracefully again. He about faced, prepared to snipe Justin as he peeked over the
edge to see Harry's demise.

Instead, he was greeted with another body hurtling through the air.

Harry tried to hit Justin in mid-air but missed, mostly from surprise. Unfortunately, Justin
didn't know the trick of the Cushioning Charm. He was too close to the edge and lost his
balance, flinging his wand away from him as he toppled over the edge.

*He must have watched me and didn't know about the Cushioning Charm from a
distance*.

Yet, Harry could still see Justin's fingers grasping the edge. Walking towards the edge of
the roof, Harry found that the battle was ironically going on before them. Slytherin seemed to be
on the winning edge judging from the number of green badges to yellow badges, but it was hard to
tell from the high distance.

*I should let him fall*.

It wouldn't kill him, the fall. At worst, he would suffer some serious breaks but it was
only about twenty feet. Surely, Snape wouldn't let a fatality befall upon his precious program.
Still, Harry felt utterly compelled to let Justin fall. After all, would the Hufflepuff do the
same?

*Let him fall! Let him fall!*

The voice inside his head urged him to do so, seeking revenge for the attack upon him weeks
earlier. Years and years from trying to placate Dudley taught him that he would just take advantage
of him again. Harry shook his head, looking down at Justin.

“Potter!” he yelled, his knuckles growing red from exertion.

Harry looked down at him, caught in an internal struggle as he lowered his wand, spotting
Justin's far off. There was a bubbling in his chest, an anticipation that screamed for
inaction. A sweeping sensation blinded him momentarily as he envisioned Justin letting go and
falling into the crowd below.

“Bloody hell...” Harry muttered as he fell to one knee.

“POTTER!”

He could still let him go. He could still let him fall. But could he? Was he *that* person?
He could be. It would be so easy to be...

“Bloody, bloody, Merlin, dammit,” Harry cursed profusely as he fell into a complete crouch.

“*POTTER!*”

“Yeah, yeah, shut up, Justin. I should let you fall,” Harry grumbled as he extended his
hand.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a lull in the fighting as they ground forces all looked
up. Even those caught in mid-duel were staring up at the pair in confusion. Harry wondered if they
realized the stupidity of pausing their fight just to witness the spectacle, but Justin's next
movement shocked him.

“We see you, Potter,” Justin whispered, a manic smile splitting his face.

Then, he let go.

Harry lunged forward, almost falling himself in an attempt to grab Justin's hand, but it was
too late. In retrospect, Harry realized that same Cushioning Charm could have been used to arrest
Justin's fall but he was still too deep in shock to act so quickly.

*Why would he...why would he do that?*

Justin collapsed with a sickening thud, surely breaking at least one bone on the way down. All
the fighting had stopped as the remaining duelists looked up at him and even at this distance,
Harry could see the prevalent expression on their faces.

Horror.

* * * * *

“My Lord?”

“Yes, Peter?”

“We need to move.”

“I know, I just want to see the view.”

“Quickly, My Lord. Muggles are coming.”

“Always with the filthy Muggles. I've only returned to this body, Peter. Might I have a
moment?”

“Y-y-y-yes...of course...”

“Don't be afraid, Peter. I'm not what I once was. Punishing would be useless, an avarice
of narcissism. There are far more efficient ways to compel you.”

“Why...of course, My Lord. Whatever you command.”

“Don't grovel. This time will be different. I have seen the error of my ways.”

“Then we should continue on, My Lord. Much work is to be done still.”

“Of course. Lead the way, Peter.”

* * * * * *

**A/N: Well that timeline wasn't met at all. Still, it kept me on track until the break
derailed it so I'll continue. I enjoyed writing this chapter and I have a bunch of treats in
store for you guys for the holidays. Thank you again for all the great reviews and I hope to keep
closer to my time line this time.**

**Estimated update time: 11 days**
 Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7
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12. My Hands Are Clean
----------------------



“We have a problem, Harry.”

Blaise was dragging something behind him and Harry sat up when he saw Peter's bloody face.
He was just a First Year, a runt of a kid with dirty blond hair and the sallow face of an
Englishman, but you couldn't tell behind the black eyes and the blisters breaking out along his
feeble jawline.

“Tell him, Peter,” Blaise prodded.

Wiping some blood trickling from the corner of his lips, Peter said, “It was those ugly
Hufflepuffs, the one called Ernie. They found me watching the barrels and snuck up on me. Told me
that it was for Justin.”

Harry ground his teeth, trying to maintain a stoic appearance as all eyes turned towards him.
Even some of the older Slytherins, the Fourth and Fifth years, were casting some inquiring glances
towards their corner of the cool Common Room.

“How many were there?” Harry urgently asked.

“Three. Ernie, Zach Smith, and some girl I didn't recognize. Would've kept me longer if
Blaise didn't show up.”

“I was coming to get him and found the three of them using Pete as target practice. I fired off
some loud spells to scare them away,” Blaise explained.

“It still bloody hurt, don't it?” Peter winced as he touched a particularly bulbous spot.
“Can I go to the Hospital Wing now?”

“Yeah. Get some of your friends to go with you and stay in a group with your wands out,” Harry
ordered. “Don't dilly dally around.”

Peter trudged back to his First Year friends, his head bowed down in shame as his friends
consoled him. A pang of guilt ran through Harry as he watched the tiny boy who was just a little
taller than his waist line. He didn't want to drag them into it but there was no other way of
watching Hufflepuff. Apparently, the house of loyalty and kindness did not take so kindly to the
perceived attempt to throw Justin off the roof.

Harry watched the replay through the Stationary Omnioculars, convinced he could show everyone
otherwise, but the results were inconclusive at best. The angles didn't show how Harry reached
his hand out to help him and instead, it looked just as if Harry didn't offer to help Justin
get up from the roof. Anger flared through him mixed with a strong strain of injustice.

*Isn't it about winning? Why am I supposed to help him onto the roof?*

But Harry knew why Hufflepuff was reacting the way they were. They perceived him as heartless
and

cold, willingly injuring Justin for the sake of victory. Never mind that there was no point to
helping Justin up and never mind that he hadn't wanted Justin to fall anyways. Yet, appearances
were sometimes more important than intent and without anyone to speak to within Hufflepuff, there
was no way he could relay his story. Susan Bones briefly popped up into his mind but that was just
one person and she had no leadership role in the house. Besides, Harry had no idea what she thought
of him now.

“Got to say, Potter, you've gotten us into a mess this time.” Draco looked over at the First
Years leaving the Common Room as he approached.

“Now isn't the time, Draco.”

“Draco's right.” Now, it was Pansy that walked over, a rare spark of concern etched onto her
face. If the Hufflepuffs were attacking them in hallways, what would they do next?

“We have to hit them back,” Nott answered for him.

“No,” Harry blurted it out before he could stop himself, but he already knew that he
shouldn't have voiced his concerns aloud. Draco was smiling something devious, a malicious
sparkle in his eyes while Nott crossed his arms in anger. The rest of the Slytherins had gathered
round in this somehow impromptu meeting.

“What I mean is that we shouldn't act too rashly. They're expecting us to hit them back
and will probably travel in such a way to protect each other,” Harry explained.

This eased Nott and a very aggressive Millicent Bulstrode a little bit, but they wanted - no,
*expected* - more from him and for the first time, Harry felt that sense
of...*leadership*. In Battle class, he always assumed it as the point man for their ideas but
this wasn't Battle class. The halls of Hogwarts weren't generated by Snape's mind and
there was no end game.

But what was he truly supposed to do?

They had to retaliate. Inaction was out of the question. But how should they strike? And when?
And where? There was no why because that wasn't a question, but the others were no less
daunting. Yet, Harry stood, slightly raised because he was at the mouth of the fireplace, standing
upon a bed of raised rocks. Towards the back, Marcus Flint, an older Slytherin, watched with mild
interest as the Third Year Slytherins gathered round.

“So what is it, Potter?” Nott eagerly asked, blood in the water.

It was a simple yet complex question. Harry first tried to think of what he would do if it was a
Battle class, but it simply wouldn't work. Battle class meant putting people down for the count
and there was no way of doing that in school. Simply put, there was no end game. Instead, he needed
to do something that would force Hufflepuff to stop attacking them. There was also the question of
whether or not this attack on Peter was a one time deal. Would they strike again or was it just
retribution for Justin?

“I say we find the first Hufflepuff and mash him into a wall,” Millicent growled.

“Really? How would you go about that?” Blaise nonchalantly replied.

“Make them pay,” Goyle dumbly answered.

*Sometimes, I hate this House*, Harry thought. Harry knew Malfoy was keenly staring at him,
waiting for his next move or statement to usurp or mock him in front of their peers.

Inaction was out of the question.

“We'll hit them back. I didn't push Justin off that building but if they want a fight,
then they've got one,” Harry said in a grim voice.

The rest of the Slytherins nodded in ascent and murmured among themselves, a soft gentle wave of
approval.

“So how do we do this?” Pansy asked, visibly uncomfortable.

*Well, I haven't thought that far yet.*

** * * * * **

Harry received Hermione's coded message and paid attention to the seemingly indistinct
hieroglyphics at the bottom. The rest of the message was unnecessary filler, a diversion if anyone
ever picked the letter up from their agreed hiding place but the bottom was always a numeric cypher
that highlighted what time she wanted to meet. Harry would indicate a meeting by buttoning the top
button of his shirt when he entered the Great Hall for breakfast and Hermione would respond in kind
later.

Harry was relieved when he saw that she still wanted to meet with him.

Inevitability, the question of whether or not he pushed Justin off the cliff would arise and
judging from the chilly response of the rest of the Third Years, many did not believe him.
Predictably, the yellow swarm of Hufflepuff appeared ready to duel on the spot and only the rather
curious table of Ravenclaw between them held the pair of Houses back. Harry was surprised to find
that Ravenclaw, usually ruthless and void of discernible compassion, also gave him a less than
polite stare. Even they were phased by Harry's seemingly heartless action.

Of course, the Gryffindors had a look of simultaneous disgust and glee. Disgust with Harry's
perceived ruthlessness and glee with Slytherin's further polarization. Seeking out one
Gryffindor in particular, Harry found that Granger had her head buried in her leather bound
notebook, scribbling away while the rest of them attended to their breakfast. He would have to wait
for her reaction.

A monotonous Transfiguration and Magical Creatures class followed and despite Lupin's rather
compelling study of Giants, Harry found himself underneath the dungeons of Hogwarts in a cool cave
with a glass ceiling. There was a certain unease as he thought about their upcoming meeting and it
was compounded by his fellow House mates who were hounding him on their response to Hufflepuff.
They wanted blood. They wanted action, yet Harry felt himself pause, unable to react just yet. His
own reticence didn't come from lack of self-belief but rather the question: *Should we strike
back?*

It upset Harry that he didn't immediately know the answer.

Everything was always so clear cut in class. There were the Slytherins and then there was
whatever the House they were matched up against. The goal was to defeat them, no questions asked.
It should have been just as easy now - Slytherins vs. Hufflepuffs - but it wasn't that simple.
He couldn't just stun Ernie MacMillan and call it a day. Furthermore, he had absolutely no idea
how to end it without devolving into a full blown fight in front of the teachers. How would they
react? How would Snape react? The answer that instinctively came to Harry's mind troubled
him.

Snape would probably do nothing.

Is this what the headmaster wanted? Did he want the Houses pit against each other? The rules of
fighting between classes had always been lax and several students had taken to one on one duels but
they were always older and it never spilled through other Years. Yes, the Hufflepuffs struck first
by dealing a blow to a First Year, but they had to do so knowing that Slytherin would strike back.
It was just the measure of response that was the question.

A shadow in the dark moved and Harry stood up from his position leaning against the wall as he
spotted the unruly hair of Hermione Granger. She moved with practiced patience, melding seamlessly
into the dark undercurrents of the school. A bag was slung over her shoulder per usual and she made
no effort to address the underlying concerns for this meeting. Tapping the wall in a synchronous
pattern, Hermione entered the cave without a word uttered to Harry.

Following her through the slightly damp underground tunnel, Harry emerged in the cavern once
again and followed Hermione to the table as she dumped her bag onto the surface and took a seat.
Following suit, Harry found himself uncomfortably seated across from her, his teeth grinding
against each other whilst his heart started to beat erratically. He was nervous but he couldn't
understand why.

“So...I thought I'd get this out of the way. I don't think you did it.” She crossed her
arms and Harry was struck by the sudden thought that she was probably quite a handful to her
parents when she wanted something.

“That's a quick call,” he responded.

“I watched the tape over once I heard about it. The angles aren't...correct...but you would
have to put some effort into making him fall. Maybe you cast a spell. Maybe you didn't. But I
don't think you would do that.”

“And what makes you think that?”

“I've watched you for a long time. We've talked and interacted face to face down here.
You're ruthless, sometimes lacking compassion, but never cruel, despite what the rest of my
House mates think. You want to win but you don't want to punish.”

“So you'd rather believe Justin threw himself off a roof than me pushing him to win?” Harry
raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

“Hufflepuffs are always underestimated by the rest of us. I've watched enough of their
previous Battle classes to know that they're not below setting other people up. They're
loyal and *dedicated*.”

“You forgot honest,” Harry pointed out.

“But honest to who? To each other? Yes. To others? No, the Hufflepuffs value inclusion more than
any of the other Houses, so yes, I do believe Justin is capable of that.”

She was fascinating, her utter disregard for House stereotypes and dismissing the thoughts of
her fellow House mates. Harry wondered how far that objectivity would go, but he wasn't that
surprised. Her dispassionate view of their battles and accumulation of statistics upon statistics
was perfectly in line with her character. Yet, Harry detected a questioning undercurrent to her
statements. Then again, what could he do about it? She trusted him enough to meet for another
session in the cave despite knowing that he *might* have thrown Justin off the roof.

That was trust.

“So, what's on the agenda?” Harry changed the topic, satisfied with her explanation.

“Well, I've been having a hard time accumulating data lately. My workload has increased - as
have yours undoubtedly - and I've been looking for new things to try. I doubt anyone will
figure out our system soon, but I'd still like to improve on some other things.”

She was all business, procuring a notebook and a quill from her bag as she also retrieved her
leather bound journal of cryptic notes. Trying to read it upside down, Harry could see she had
jotted a few things down in English.

“The first thing I want to do is find a different method of contact. This whole buttoning shirt
thing is a bit daft. I'm working on some things but do you have any ideas?” Hermione asked.

“It'd help if we had some sort of walkie or something like that. You know, like Muggles
have.”

“Unfortunately, something in the air here doesn't allow that, but I agree in concept.
Something small and hand held that each of us have that could be used to contact each other. I
doubt we'll be able to do something as useful as talk to each other but something similar. I
think I know a spell, but I'll have to research it.”

“You want me to help with that?”

“Frankly, no. Communication doesn't seem to be your strong suit.”

*Was that an insult?*

“Next, I thought we'd each offer one idea to learn during winter break. Something we can
concentrate on ourselves without having to go through some rigorous dueling. I have on in mind, but
I'll let you go first.”

“Considering I didn't even know the agenda, why don't you go first while I come up with
something?”

“Fine.” She shrugged ineffectually as she re-opened her leather journal this time. “I've
been thinking of learning Occlumency.”


“Occlumency?” Harry scoffed. “That's nowhere near the curriculum. That's not even next
year's curriculum and I know because I looked. What do we need to know Occlumency for?”

“I thought you'd say that, but I've read a couple different studies highlighting the
importance of Occlumency in its residual effects in duels. Patience and clearheadedness are among
two of the most valuable lessons learned, but Occlumency is useful in its own right. It gives your
mind a structure and lets you block out any potentially skilled Legilimens.”

“And how many Legilimens do you know?”

Hermione hesitated and doesn't meet his eye. “A few.”

“Hermione, I don't mean to call it useless but I think its a bit ridiculous to say
Occlumency is useful for Battle class.”

She pursed her lips as he pushed her to annoyance. “Well that's what I want to learn. This
is a one and one, *Potter*. We're not going to agree on everything and this is what I want
to learn.”

Harry rolled his eyes, impatience getting the best of him. In truth, he already knew what he
wanted to learn, but he preferred that Hermione go first.

“Your turn,” she ordered.

“I want to make a new spell.”

At this statement, she chuckled, her bushy locks springing around her head.

“And you thought I was ridiculous.”

* * * * *

They didn't achieve much else beside squabbling about the Occlumency lesson plan that
Hermione drew up and discussing the spell Harry was thinking of. It was one of their more
uneventful meetings, but it left Harry feeling optimistic. At least there was someone outside of
Slytherin that could remain objective about the Justin situation and the prospect of creating a new
spell had him buzzing. It almost made him forget about the aforementioned Hufflepuffs.

Almost.

As he rounded the corner in the dungeons that led to the Slytherin Common Room, he found himself
facing the backs of that very House. He could tell they were Third Years even with their backs
turned and he hadn't been careful enough with his approach, his head in the clouds with the
thoughts of this new spell. As a result, Hannah Abbot turned around and yelped at the sight of
him.

“It's Potter!” Hannah said in a loud hush.

In unison, the Hufflepuffs turned around, some with wands in hand. What they were doing there,
Harry didn't know, but he was outnumbered by a margin he didn't like. His hands were at his
sides instead of on his wand and he remained stock still, trying to keep his breathing steady.
Someone from the back of the group pushed their way forward and Harry wasn't surprised to see
Ernie MacMillan, the big-headed tosser.

Hermione was somewhere behind him and he hoped that she would get away before getting caught up
in any of this ruckus. The worst thing that could happen now was her discovery from a bunch of
Hufflepuffs. They were there for him. They wanted retribution for their fallen comrade. Hermione
had nothing to do with it.

“Excuse me, I'm this way,” Harry pointed behind them.

“Cut the shit, Potter. You know why we're here.” Ernie's bluntness surprised him. He was
used to Malfoy's taunting gags or Nott's brutish malice, but the Hufflepuffs were on a
mission. Maybe Trow and Hermione were right. Maybe everyone did underestimate them.

“You messed with one of us, Potter. Now you get to fight all of us,” Ernie growled.

“I'm not fighting you,” Harry calmly replied.

The response was unexpected, silencing the ever reddening Ernie for a moment. Clearly, they came
here for a duel and didn't expect Harry to repel them. Harry, though, counted on this factor.
True, he might last a few seconds against 9 Hufflepuffs, but even he couldn't fight them all at
once. There were too many angles to cover, too many spells to defend against. Yet, they weren't
Slytherins. At least, he hoped they didn't have the sadism of some Slytherins.

Attacking a snooping First Year? They could do that. Attacking a combative Slytherin?
Definitely. Attacking a defenseless one? Harry was gambling that they couldn't. He knew the
look on Dudley's face when he used to gang up on him with his friends. There was glee, there
was triumph, there was a rush of adrenaline.

In short, they enjoyed it. Harry couldn't see all of the Hufflepuffs enjoying it. Maybe some
- maybe Ernie - but not all of them.

“Yes you will!” Ernie commanded, certainly at a loss for words.

“No I won't. I'm sorry about Justin.”

“Bollocks that!” Hannah yelled, tears springing from her eyes. “You pushed him off the building.
You could have *killed* him!”

“I didn't push him off,” Harry insisted and he raised his hands, showing his
defenselessness. “I don't know what you want me to say and I know what you want to do to me,
but I didn't push him off and I'm not going to fight you back.”

Then, Harry saw Zach and Susan trade looks. Megan Jones and Owen gulped, looking nervously at
Ernie and even Hannah's hand wavered, her wand still pointed at him. Ernie's face took on a
purplish glare, frustration boiling over at this point. Harry had done the damage, effectively
putting doubt in their minds. They would have relished punishing him if he had fought back, the
ravenous mob mentality taking over at that point. There was no end game where Harry escaped
untouched, but if he could lessen the damage, maybe he wouldn't have to pay so much attention
to them in the coming weeks.

Plus, whoever struck first had a higher probability of being one of the bullies that kicked him
earlier in the year. It would be in that unknown person's best interest to keep him as the
antagonist. He could take the pain. He had taken it before and absorbing it from unwilling
participants would be easy.

“Potter doesn't have to apologize to the likes of you!”

The voice rang out the dungeons with clarity and in the sudden change of atmosphere, Harry
doubted that anyone could hear him groan. It was Malfoy, resplendent with stupidity and leading the
charge with the rest of the Third Year Slytherins at his back. They were garbed in pajamas, unlike
the Hufflepuffs and it looked a bit ridiculous, but they were there.

*The one time Malfoy decides to stand up for Slytherin and he's gone and lit the
fuse.*

“I should have known that the rest of you were in on it. All of you *snakes*!” Ernie hissed
the last part as they turned around to face them.

It would have been a comical sight, the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins facing off, one group in
their pajamas whilst the other were decked out in full robes. Meanwhile, Harry was on the other
side, staring contemplatively at the backs of the Hufflepuffs. It didn't take him long to
figure out this was the moment to strike.

Unfortunately, he hesitated and in that moment, a spell popped off. There was no way of telling
of who fired first. Blaise and Tracey insisted that someone in Hufflepuff shot a Stunning spell to
begin the barrage, but from Harry's vantage point, there was no way of telling.

But once the spells started, Harry was in his element.

Using the trapping net spells he had used on Hermione, he effectively cut the Hufflepuffs off
from any retreat. They had truly forgotten about him as they engaged the rest of the Slytherins so
it was easy picking for Harry. They fell one by one, struck in their flank as they made the costly
error of turning their backs to him. Perhaps his little speech had gotten to them and in a red
haze, they forgot about their true target and focused on the voice of Draco Malfoy.

Harry didn't know whether to thank or shake the blond to death for igniting the conflict,
but there was time for that later. So caught up in dealing blow after blow, Harry almost missed
Megan Jones at his periphery. Harry was in the middle of a slightly more complicated levitation
spell when he saw the flash out of the corner of his eye.

It would have hit him if it were not for the shield that had suddenly sprung around him. Megan
looked just as surprised as he was by the sudden and miraculous interference and Harry struck her
with an *Expelliarmus* in her momentary relapse. Harry looked around and spotted a shadow
slinking back into the darkness.

*Hermione.*

She stuck around and Harry made another mental not to ask her why. Whirling on the spot, there
was only one Hufflepuff left standing and Malfoy was advancing on her with a predatory gleam in his
eyes. When Harry spotted the red mane though, he leaped forward to stop him.

“No!” Harry yelled, calmly stepping forward.

Malfoy stopped, clearly in the throws of fueled adrenaline and eyed him suspiciously. “Leave
this to me, Potter. I knew I'd have to save your sorry arse eventually.”

“No,” Harry said more calmly. “We don't stun her. Someone's gotta take them back to
their Common Room.”

“Who cares?” Nott asked. “Let them stay in the middle of the hallway.”

A few snickers accompanied his intentions, but Tracey and Blaise were already walking up to
stand by his side. Malfoy had Crabbe and Goyle as his little minions, but the triumvirate of the
two flanking Harry held much more respect in the Slytherin's eyes. Emboldened by their
accompaniment, Harry announced, “Susan carries them back.”

Susan still had her wand out and a cutting curse must have nicked her robes at one point because
they were torn down her left side. She stared at him, her thin lips set in a pursed line. She was
frozen on the spot, still weary of Malfoy's presence and Nott's leering.

“I need to wake someone else up. I can't levitate them all myself.”

“This is a trap,” grunted Millicent.

“It's not a trap,” Tracey snapped back. “Wake up Jones. She'll levitate them back with
you,” she ordered.

Harry looked at her appraisingly, surprised with her assertiveness. Susan nodded in consent as
she woke Megan Jones and wordlessly communicated to the strewn and stunned bodies lying around
them. Megan nodded, shaken up by the out of class duel and cast a fearful glance at Harry. The
bodies were levitated as Susan and Megan led them back towards the Hufflepuff Common Room but not
without some taunts and jeers from Malfoy and his gang.

The situation did not develop how Harry would have liked. If Malfoy hadn't shown up, it
could have been defused in what was probably the most peaceful way. Ernie might have hit him with a
spell or two, but Harry didn't think he was that malicious. He couldn't duel someone that
publicly acknowledged that they wouldn't fight back. True, Slytherin may have won the battle,
but Hufflepuff would remember this night.

Still, Harry couldn't dress Malfoy down in front of the rest of his House mates. To them,
they just scored a big blow against the same Hufflepuffs that had injured one of their very own
First Years. Harry understood their need to protect each other. Not even the snakes of Slytherin
were immune to the familial bonds of being sorted into the same House.

“That'll teach those knuckle draggers,” Malfoy loudly boasted, puffing his chest out like a
peacock.

Harry opened his mouth to say something but Blaise interjected first.

“We should get back. The teachers will have heard that.”

So they rushed back to the Common Room, a stampede of Third Years that were still giddy from
their victory. Harry cast a cursory glance backwards to see if Hermione was still lurking in the
shadows, but Harry couldn't find any dark discrepancies. She must have left, but Harry had to
wonder just exactly how much of that she saw.

In the Common Room, Nott whooped in the air and pumped his fist while Malfoy crossed his arms
with the smuggest of expressions on his angular face. For once, he was the hero and the leader of
the band. Harry snorted in disgust at the thought of Malfoy's short sightedness. He reckoned
that the blond had no idea what he had just done.

“Harry,” Tracey tugged on his arm to pull him away from the little celebration.

Harry followed her into their secluded corner of the Common Room again, Blaise on their heels.
Tracey made sure that the rest of them were out of earshot before she spoke again.

“It was Susan. She came down late and found me in the Library to tell me that the Hufflepuffs
were planning on finding you and...” she trailed off, her hands shaking.

Blaise put an arm around her to calm her down as she continued speaking, a mixture of distraught
and anger reflected in her shaky timber.

“They said they knew you would be out late, but didn't know where you were. I tried to find
you, but you weren't in the Strategy room like you said you were. Trow said you had left hours
ago!”

“I was meeting with Snape,” Harry lied. “He wanted to see me about the Justin thing.”

“Someone must have overheard that,” Blaise reasoned. “That's how they knew you'd be out
late.”

Tracey continued, “After I couldn't find you, I came back here to tell Blaise. Malfoy came
up to me though and heard and that's when we rounded up everyone else. We had just gotten out
of the Common Room when we heard your voice. Merlin, Harry, they were going to jump you!”

“I was okay,” Harry truthfully said this time. “I had them under control.”

“Not even you can take 9 on 1, Harry,” Blaise said.

*I didn't need to take them on*, Harry wanted to say, but he was tired and it was too
much to explain in the moment. “Thanks for trying to find me though,” Harry begrudgingly said.

“I can't believe them. I didn't think they were capable of that,” Tracey still had her
wand out and gripped it ever so tightly.

“You guys had the jump on them. It was easy pickings after that.” Harry sighed, knowing how
close he was to defusing the situation.

“We'll see about that,” said Blaise. Harry met his eyes and knew that Blaise was more
perceptive than the rest of the bunch. He was a long term planner and could see the effects of
defeating Hufflepuff that night. Ever the cool customer, Blaise shrugged it off though.

“I'm knackered. You certainly keep it interesting, Harry.” Blaise bid good-bye, passing
through the smaller throng of Third Years at the bottom of the stairs.

At some point, one of the older students yelled at them to shut up and so the rest of their
House mates retired. Malfoy lingered for a moment and almost made a motion to approach Harry and
Tracey, but he stopped, a cloudy look on his face. He walked up the stairs eventually, but there
was something about the way he looked at them that unnerved Harry and Malfoy did not usually
unnerve him. Annoy? Yes, but there was something different in his expression.

“Are you okay?” Tracey asked after they were long gone and the fires were starting to burn
out.

“It didn't look like it, but I had it under control.”

“Those bastards,” Tracey whispered as she looked up at him with her blue eyes. “If they would
have hurt you, Harry...”

“I've faced worse.” Harry shrugged it off, the night's fatigue starting to settle on
him.

She looked at him curiously and just as he was about to bid her a good night, she said, “Do you
want to come home with me for break?”

She burned red, but it was Harry who was more embarrassed. He knew the Davis family were from a
rich, Pureblood lineage. They must have had a mansion like the Malfoys. If only they could see 4
Privet Drive.

“I don't know if I could...” Harry awkwardly fiddled with his feet.

“Blaise has come over before. Even Malfoy's met my parents. It's just one break, Harry.
I know you've stayed here the past two years anyways.”

“Well...I guess?” *What am I supposed to say?*

Apparently that was enough for Tracey. She didn't jump and leap into his arms or break out
in a wide grin, but she nodded thoughtfully, almost as if it was to herself. Her mouth opened as if
she wanted to ask him something else and he knew the question was coming: *Where do you go all
these nights?* Instead, she said something that caught him off-guard.

“Thanks, Harry.”

“You're welcome?”

* * * * * *

“This hasn't progressed as I thought it would...”

“Really? If that isn't quite the understatement. I warned you what would happen if you
started planting ideas into these young students.”

“You had no way of knowing that Finch-Fletchley would react the way he did. I didn't think
he would go to those lengths...”

“The boy threw himself off a building! You have to pull him back, get that thought out of his
mind.”

“I can't just pull thoughts out. It's not that simple, even for a skilled Legilimens
such as myself. Even so, this might provide us with another opportunity.”

“What? Are you going to provoke the other three as well?”

“No. I'll leave them alone. I don't want something like that occurring again. It was
hard enough limiting the angles of the Battle class tapes. Yet, I think this is where we might find
some renewed passion. The boy's decision making wasn't optimal tonight but a prolonged
conflict with the Hufflepuffs will force him to make tougher decisions.”

“...it would provide us with an assessment of how he handles open ended situations. I was
actually quite pleased with his approach before Malfoy intervened.”

“I was not. He underestimates himself. It would have been a good test for his maximum power
outputs to face off against the other nine Hufflepuffs.”

“Even so, it requires critical and lateral thinking to do what he did. The girl is rubbing off
on him.”

“Too much. She has become closed off as of late. I can't easily sift through that brain of
hers like before.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

“*Yes* and don't fool yourself otherwise. She's studying Occlumency, I know
it.”

“She is very bright. I think you continue to underestimate her. Do you think she knows that
you're performing Legillemency passively?”

“There's no way of knowing now. She won't master it anyways. I need the boy to sharpen
that edge. He was too weak tonight, to unwilling to carry that decisive blow. He could have by
striking the Bones girl down, but he didn't. We have to try again. Force him into a binary
situation.”

“I think that it might be an improvement if...”

“It is *not*. Remember why we are doing this.”

“To sharpen him into a deadly point.”

“Yes. Who do you think has dulled that point? Against the Ravenclaws when dealing with the
Lovegood girl, he balked. Against the Hufflepuffs, he balked again. He needs to deal the decisive
blow.”

“He will learn. This is already far ahead of our time table.”

“He may be ahead, but that should also mean that he has acknowledged the advantages of
decisiveness. And I fear something worse.”

“What is that?”

“I fear that the girl will teach him Occlumency as well.”

“I thought we determined he didn't have a knack for it.”

“He doesn't. Far too tempermental among...other problems...but what if he did?”

“It is not the worst thing in the world to let him have his own mind.”

“Perhaps. But he isn't ready for that just yet. I need something to throw off the girl.”

“Surely, you can't mean...”

“No, don't be so obtuse. I wouldn't kill her. That would bring up too many questions.
There are other things I can do though. Accidents may happen.”

“Sev-”

“Don't worry. Your hands will be clean.”
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-->



13. Winter is Coming
--------------------



The frigid snap of a whirling snowstorm pounced on them as they finished their semester exams.
It was a breeze for Harry because the first semester exams were all theoretical. There weren't
even any exams for Battle or Strategy class. Indeed, by the time he looped his last word on his
Transfigurations essay, he was already to study some of the Occlumency notes Hermione had procured
for him. When he originally asked why he couldn't just use books from the library, she
succinctly replied, “My notes are better.”

Even Malfoy would have raised an eyebrow at her arrogance.

As Harry packed his bags, Blaise walked over with a scrunched nose as he surveyed the clothes on
Harry's bed. Blaise had a habit of picking through his things without asking, so Harry let him
be for just a few moments but sensed that Blaise wanted to say something.


“What is it?” Harry finally asked.

“You do know you're going to the Davis family for the hols. At the very least, you'll
have one proper dinner at night and a few excursions during the afternoon if they're
particularly uppity. My Mum doesn't usually care what we do, but that's probably on the
account of so many holiday without one of her husbands.”

“So what's it to you?”

“Have you seen your robes? Your clothes? You might be the Boy-Who-Lived but its offensive at the
very least to show up wearing a shirt to dinner. Not to mention those ugly trainers.” Blaise
sniffed at nothing, wrinkling his nose to show his displeasure.

“These trainers have won me more battles and duels than you ever will.”

“Bravo,” Blaise replied dully. “I know you're not hurting for any Galleons. The Potter
family is rich and they must have left you something.”

“It's not like I exactly have time to swing by Diagon Alley isn't it? Tracey says
we're going straight to their house - well, *mansion* - after the train.”

“Take some of my stuff. It'll be a little longer on you but nothing that a few mending
spells can't fix.”

“Blaise, I can't -”

“Don't be so dense, Harry. You have to make a good impression on her parents.” Blaise
winked.

“It's not like that,” Harry sighed tiredly. “You've went over to her place too for
break.”

“But she doesn't talk about me all the time,” Blaise pointed out.

“I'm her friend.”

“*Sure*.”

Sometimes, Harry really hated Blaise's cockiness. Sucking it up, Harry procured some of
Blaise's more elegant clothing - *no, you can't take that -* and mended it to shape
his body - *we want it to fit you, not strangle you -* and finally took two pairs of nice
leather shoes that were just his size. It wasn't a complete wardrobe change, but Harry had to
admit that he at least looked like a proper Slytherin instead of an obvious Muggleborn.

“You think you'd grow a little by now. What do those Muggles feed you when you go home for
the summer?” Blaise wondered as he picked a loose thread.

*Scraps at the end of Dudley's plate.*

Armed with a few new clothes and the rest of his belongings, Harry closed his luggage and placed
a Lightweight Charm on it for easier general use. Tracey was supposed to meet them at the bottom of
the stairs as the herd of students left for the break. Generally, there were a few that stayed, but
for once, Harry was glad that he had somewhere to go. Blaise and Tracey went home for the past two
breaks and that left him with nothing but his studies and endless trips to Trow's classroom to
use the Stationary Omnioculars. Not that he didn't enjoy reviewing, but there was a certain
hollowness once the staff decorated the Christmas tree.

Not that Snape ever joined the festivities though. The headmaster could be seen hawkishly
staring at the rest of the staff while conversing with either Moody or Trow. Harry usually gave the
headmaster a wide berth during that time and minded his own business. He hoped that Blaise
wasn't too right about the Davis family though. He didn't want to embarrass her.

Tracey smiled at him as he reached the bottom step and he tried hard to smile back but Blaise
had set him on edge. He hadn't given much thought to the Davis family, but it occurred to him
that the only family he knew were the Dursleys. While he hoped the Davis family was nothing like
those repugnant pigs, he had little contact outside of his own experience. Tracey must have noticed
his clamminess because she asked, “Are you alright, Harry?”

“Yeah,” he replied, “I'm just cold.”

Again, she fixed him with that same look that said, “I don't quite believe you.” It was
getting harder and harder to fool her, but she didn't press. Tracey wasn't assertive or
bossy like Pansy or even Hermione, but she had her own way of discovering things. It was usually
guilt through attrition.

The herd to leave the school thickened at the school's atrium and as soon as the doors were
opened, Harry could feel the chill blast of the winter air. It seemed there were more people going
home than usual but that wasn't a big surprise. The semester had been tough on all of them and
a week or two without the sight of Snape stalking you during Battle class or Moody and Trow going
over lesson plans repeatedly would be a welcome sight to all.

On the platform, Harry's wandering eyes took him across the platform to the group of
Gryffindors. The snow was swirling around them, the gusts of wind making it appear sandy in
consistency. Even through the haze, he spotted the diminutive brunette talking to Longbottom with
her head leaned towards him. Blaise babbled something to Pansy about his Mum's new husband, but
Harry tuned him out as he thought of the progress he made with Granger.

She was different. That was the easiest way for him to describe her. The way she thought
wasn't like most other people in his House or even in the school. Differing perspectives had
done much to improve his skills not only at single dueling but also during House matches as
well.

She looked up as if called upon by an inaudible voice and they met eyes. So far, their public
interactions were moot and uneventful, so nonexistent that calling it clandestine wouldn't be
an appropriate term. Still, he had yet to thank her for deflecting the spell during their scuffle
with the Hufflepuffs.

He inclined his head ever so slightly, a movement that was barely noticeable were it not for the
determined way he stared at her. Even with Longbottom close by, Granger purposefully looked back at
him and dipped her chin into her chest in response.

“What are you looking at?” Tracey suddenly asked, blue eyes peering sideways at him since they
were roughly the same height.

“The snow,” Harry quietly said.

As he looked up and away from his actual object of observation, Tracey looked at him with
pondering eyes.

* * * * *

The train ride was uneventful save for a few menacing glares from Hufflepuffs passing by. They
were still smarting over their proverbial slaughtering in the dungeons and Harry almost suspected
some form of retaliation. As such, he instructed the rest of his House mates to group themselves
into compartments and to be prepared for such an altercation.

Luckily, it was a drama free affair and they were at King's Cross in what seemed like little
time even though a few hours had passed. Since this was foreign territory to Harry, he followed
Tracey off the train as she searched for her parents. Blaise said his good-byes as he spotted his
curvaceous mother with some poor sapling on her arm. Pansy split off as Harry spotted her equally
pug nosed parents standing haughtily with what looked to be fur robes.

That left him alone with Tracey and even though it was still snowing and the wind chilled him
through his jacket, Harry felt his palms clam up and his heart start to race. How could it be that
he was so patient and calm in Battle class yet the mere thought of meeting Tracey's parents
sent him into a nervous flutter? That was a question Harry couldn't ponder for long as Tracey
gave a confirmatory squeal as she spotted a middle-aged couple.

“Mum! Dad!” Tracey excitedly rushed towards said couple and barreled into her mother first.

Veronica Davis was a thin, almost reedy, woman with a tuft of black, curly hair. Whereas
Tracey's face was full and cheeky, Mrs. Davis had a gaunt and narrowness to her. Even her
fingers were spindly though they were covered by leather gloves. Her eyes were a majestic blue
though and it was clear as day that Tracey received her eyes from her mother.

Ian Davis was tall as thickly built. An imposing sight for Harry, the closely cropped beard and
accompanying mustache seemed out of place for what was supposed to be a Pureblood family. Maybe it
was his picture of the Lucius Malfoy, majestically groomed to the point of incredulity, that threw
Harry off a step. Either way, Ian Davis reminded Harry of a bear and this particular bear had
sought and found new prey.

“Mr. Potter.” His voice was neither booming nor timid but an assured placidness that reminded
Harry of a less slimy Snape. He strode forward and as was custom, nearly crushed Harry's hand
in a handshake.

“Nice to meet you, sir,” Harry courteously responded.

“Mum. Dad. This is Harry,” Tracey introduced him.

“Hello, Harry.” Mrs. Davis smiled at him and moved her hand forward in a more gentle handshake
than her husband. “We've heard a lot about you.”

“Who hasn't?” Mr. Davis followed up. “Come on now. Glibby said dinner would be ready as soon
as we get back and I'm a bit famished. This all your luggage then?”

“Yes, sir.” Harry moved to take the bags and place them in a trolley but Mr. Davis waved him
off.

“Nonsense. That's what we have the Ministry for.”

Levitating them, Mr. Davis turned a corner that Harry wasn't accustomed to on the platform
and saw a man outfitted in standard Ministry-blue robes. He rushed forward to pick up the luggage
and placed it in the trunk of a sleek looking car.

“The car's magic. Our house isn't too far away from here,” Tracey explained.

Truth be told, Harry was more comfortable riding around in a car than whatever contraption he
envisioned in his head. Ever since the wildly dangerous Knight Bus, Harry was more than a bit
suspicious of magical vehicles. Luckily, it was a rather smooth ride once they got in and it seemed
as if the Muggles didn't even notice the car squeezing into impossible places.

They were all seated in the back, a space that was much larger than it appeared. It was almost a
limo, the cushions stretching out without any seat belts or standard seating procedure. Harry chose
a spot next to Tracey, partially from coincidence but also to use her as a buffer from her parents.
While he wasn't gregarious, the suddenly imposing presence of the Davis family weighed heavily
on his vocal chords.

The gray dullness of the clouds helped blur the London skyline as the magical car navigated
impossible alleys and shot through narrow passageways until they emerged on a less developed road.
Dirt kicked up around them as they passed a few manors that were aged well, but it wasn't until
they flew through a large, metal gate that Harry finally saw the worth of the Davis family.

Coming from Number Four Privet Drive, Harry wasn't used to the isolated mansions of the
upper echelon of society but judging by Tracey's distinct lack of caring via an animated
discussion with her mother, this sort of palace was the norm for her. It wasn't built like a
castle like other manors that dotted the countryside. Instead, it was mostly flat but impossibly
large in width. Windows and windows of multi-faced sections of the house glittered in the sunlight
and even the door, usually ornate and wooden for this kind of mansion, was clear and visible. Harry
bent his head to see the other sides of the house but it seemed circular in nature instead of the
square and rectangular hexes that houses were usually built upon.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry knew that Ian Davis was watching him carefully and Harry
tried his best not to look shocked at the sheer size of the mansion? Manor? Whatever it was. An
untimely bump on the road gave Harry an excuse to stop examining the house and turn his attention
back towards the family. The Ministry driver came to a stop and Veronica Davis nimbly stepped out
with the help of the Ministry driver. Mr. Davis insisted on Harry exiting first and so Harry ambled
out of the car to take in the splendid manor in its entirety.

“Come on, let's get inside,” said a shivering Tracey.

Harry opted to keep his mouth shut again, postponing his questions about the estate to a later
time, preferably out of earshot from her parents. Just then, a tiny creature appeared next to him.
It was a wrinkled and mangled thing, barely coming up to his knee, but Harry knew what it was from
the stories that Tracey and Blaise told. It was a House-Elf and it was a miserable looking
thing.

“May I take your bags?” The House-Elf spoke in what seemed to be an unusually gravelly
voice.

“Go on, Glibby. Make yourself useful,” Mrs. Davis said flippantly.

The House-Elf bowed lowly, placed his hand on the carriage of luggage and disappeared with a
snap of his fingers, taking the bags with him. It was an extraordinary feat of magic but, again, no
one seemed to notice but Harry. *There's a new normal that I should really adjust to*, he
thought.

If Harry thought there was going to be a slight reprieve of awe, it wasn't when he entered
through the glass doors of the Davis estate. A large expanse was deemed the foyer though Harry was
sure Number Four would have fit within the entire hall. Rooms opened to the left and right of it
but instead of a circular staircase that led upwards - for that was what Harry pictured in his mind
when he entered - there was instead a staircase that went *down*.

“Come on,” Tracey tugged him along by the sleeve of his jacket. “Let me show you your room.”

As Harry followed Tracey, Mrs. Davis called after them. “Don't forget supper is soon!
I'll send Glibby for you.”

“Yes, Mum!”

As they descended into the house, Harry discovered that instead of it being several stories
high, the Davis estate expanded downwards instead. Low lights from ornate lamps and candles basked
over the hallway and Tracey took him down to the third level after explaining to him the four
levels of the Davis estate.

“The family line is actually from my Dad. My Mum's maiden name was Prewett before she
married Dad -”

“Wait, Prewett? Aren't the Weasleys from the Prewett line?” Harry interrupted.

“Yes, but my Mum and Weasley are second cousins. Everyone's somewhat related, but I'd be
horrified if I was anywhere that closely related to Ron bloody Weasley,” she shivered to emphasize
her point. “Think of that barmy ginger hair.”

“But anyways, the estate was built sometime after the Muggle World War Two by Granddad. They
were tired of the bombs falling on them and after a stray Muggle bomb crumpled half of the old
estate, they built a new one that went into the ground instead of up. We have to magic the windows,
but I like it better. Makes it feel more homey.”

“I'd shudder to think what other houses are like if *this* is homey.”

Tracey stopped and smiled sadly at him. “We'll have to visit Blaise's soon. His mother
has no sense of propriety. *Then* you'll see what I mean by homey.”

Harry nodded idly as he passed by room after room, some of them converted studies whilst others
were simply guest rooms. Tracey explained that they often had visitors and it would be
inappropriate if there weren't enough rooms to accommodate them. While Harry didn't see the
need of twenty-three guest bedrooms, who was he to argue? He was a guest of this house after all
and he knew better than to question the seemingly embarassing amount of riches from this reportedly
modest lineage. He was afraid to even imagine what the Malfoy estate resembled.

“And this is yours!” She stopped at the end of the hall and stepped aside to let him in his
room.

Much like the manor, his room was circular as well, giving him a slight vertigo feeling as he
looked around. The bed was to his right and Harry's eyes widened at the king size bed. After
all those years under the cupboard, the king bed was a monstrosity. Delicately designed furniture
framed the bed whilst a large dresser and other furniture that didn't have an immediate purpose
to Harry littered the room. It was all over a deep, plush carpet that immediately comforted
Harry's feet even through his shoes.

Unsurprisingly, his luggage was already there and Harry suspected the House-Elf could do more
than just transport his luggage with a snap of his fingers. In short, it was amazing and far bigger
and better than any room Harry had ever stayed in barring his dormitory at Hogwarts.

“If you need anything, just call for Glibby. He'll show up right away and if he doesn't,
he'll usually try to kill himself,” Tracey explained.

“Why would he do that?”

“I don't know. He just does.” Tracey shrugged ineffectually. “'I'm upstairs right
above you, but all you have to do is tap this bar to reach me.”

She walked over to a series of bars attached to the wall running parallel to each other. In all,
there were seven bars that jutted out about one foot from the wall. Selecting the second one to the
right, she tapped it once and Harry heard a distinct chime overhead.

“Its much quicker than sending a Patronus or trying to shout down the stairs, so don't
hesitate to call me. I would have just stayed down here across from you but my Mum said it would be
*inappropriate*.”

“Well, I wouldn't do anything like that,” Harry scoffed.

Tracey smiled pithily again and cocked her head. “Of course you wouldn't.”

After making sure his things were settled, Tracey took him on a tour of the house, showing him
the nooks and crannies and regaling him with stories of her childhood. It occurred to Harry that it
must have been lonely sometimes to live in such a cavernous house by herself. Regardless, she
showed a lot of passion and excitement when talking about the various rooms and the houses and
forts she had built. Harry was even beginning to enjoy himself and forget about the vastness of the
Davis estate when Glibby popped up behind them again.

“Master Tracey and Master Potter, supper will be ready soon. Your mother has said to prepare
yourself, Master Tracey,” Glibby said in that unnaturally deep voice again.

“Oh okay. I'm going to go get ready. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded absentmindedly, suddenly grateful for Blaise's last minute advice.

As it turned out, clothing was the last thing he would have to worry about during supper.

* * * * *

Dressed as well as he could in Blaise's dress robes and shoes, Harry entered the dining room
well before Tracey, just in time for a face to face session with Mr. Davis. The older man was
sitting comfortably at the head chair, sipping on an amber liquid that was probably filled with
spirits. Though the furniture was not nearly as extravagant as a royal court, Mr. Davis'
posture was one of a king. Unsure as to where to sit, Harry stood by the doorway for a moment,
wondering whether or not the family sat together at the large, rectangular dining table or whether
they sat apart.

“Come, Harry. Take a seat.” Mr. Davis gestured towards his left and Harry implicitly knew he was
placing him on his weaker side since he was right handed. It would have been a slight if Harry took
it seriously, but it was probably just a ploy for someone of his stature.

According to Tracey. Mr. Davis worked in the Ministry as part of the Wizengamot. Though they
were unelected officials, they still wielded considerable power and most of the Wizengamot were
dotted with Purebloods whose seats had passed down the line. Even though Mr. Davis didn't fit
the usual image of an aristocratic Pureblood, Harry stood on guard. He knew enough of Slytherins
than to blithely wander into the den without the proper amount of skepticism.

“Veronica and Tracey will probably take their time aspiring to be the next Majestic Maggie,” Mr.
Davis commented on the popular magical musician.

“They are both beautiful enough for the role.”

Arching an eyebrow, Mr. Davis looked at him coolly and Harry knew he had already made a misstep
in attempting to compliment them. “Quite right.”

Hoping to change the subject quickly, Harry commented, “Your house is grand. It's quite a
spectacle if you don't mind me saying.”

Mr. Davis laughed deeply. “Don't let Lucius hear that. That man has his head so far up his
ass that a compliment to a house such as mines would be taken as an affront.”

Harry decided that whatever happened, Mr. Davis did have his grudging respect in that
regard.

“But that is kind of you to say. Tracey says you were raised by Muggles.”

The slight disdain in his tone as he mentioned the blasphemous last word did not go by
unnoticed. Then again, Harry didn't think much of his Muggle relatives either.

“Yes. As you can imagine, it was nothing like this.”

“Yes, I can quite *imagine*. It is remarkable that someone in such circumstances could grow
up to be such a component student in Hogwarts if what Tracey tells me is accurate.”

The mocking yet pitying nature of his classification of Muggles was yet another sign that Mr.
Davis, despite his reservations against the elder Malfoy, was no doubt a Pureblood first and a
insurgent second, if at all. Still, Harry nodded his head and changed tact again, becoming
increasingly uncomfortable with their solitary talk.

“Tracey does very well in classes, especially this semester. Higher on the Master List than some
of the Fourth and even Fifth years.”

“But none quite so high as you. Tenth, wasn't it to start the semester? That's quite a
way to start out the year. Of course, they didn't have anything like that in my day, but I dare
say the changes have been for the best...”

Harry wanted to ask him about Hogwarts in his day, but recognized the lecturing tone. Smartly,
he shut his mouth for once and let Mr. Davis speak instead.

“Snape's done a good job, I've heard. I don't doubt Tracey can do better but its
heartening to know that someone with such great...promise...is at her side. She says you were
friends from the first day, were you not?”

“Roughly,” Harry responded, allowing himself a smile.

“That's good. Surrounding ones self with high value always has its merits, does it not?”

Harry didn't particularly disagree but the way he phrased the statement made Harry
uncomfortable, as if he were an asset to Tracey's worth. Still, he nodded, not wanting to
antagonize the bear any further. Praying to whatever Merlin there was, Harry was relieved when Mrs.
Davis stepped into the dining room, steeped in a simple black dress that nonetheless bore the look
of richness.

“I hope he's not boring you too much, Harry. Ian does tend to go on about the Ministry.” The
smile took the bite out of the barb, but there was still a tightness to her grin that was not
entirely genuine.

“You think of going into politics after school, Harry? Or maybe join the Aurors with that
immense talent of yours?” Mr. Davis quickly interjected.

“I - I don't know, really. I haven't given it much thought.”

Mr. Davis clicked his tongue and shook his head. “With your talent, you should be thinking
ahead, Harry. It would be a shame if it went to waste.”

*A shame for who?*

His nerves were starting to fray and Harry tightened his hand underneath the table as he gave
another conciliatory expression. It was a marvel what Mr. Davis could do without so much as
uttering a threatening word. Harry was beginning to realize that perhaps lineage wasn't the
only thing that made for a good politician. The ability to slice into his self-esteem with just a
few well placed questions was no doubt forged by years of arguing with similar avatars.

Fortunately, Tracey entered, dressed in a summery grown that was in contrast to the wintry
weather. It was blue, bringing out the azure in her eyes and Harry knew enough manners to stand as
she entered the room. Mrs. Davis did the same but Mr. Davis stayed in his seat, sipping on that
amber drink.

“Sorry I'm late,” Tracey apologized demurely as she took a seat next to Harry instead of
next to her mother. Knowing what he know knew about Mr. Davis, Harry suspected she was using him as
a buffer just as much as she didn't want to sit next to her parents.

“Glibby, we're ready,” Mrs. Davis called out.

Dinner was a quiet affair, filled with stories exchanged between the families. Harry stayed
quiet for the most part, enjoying the elegant beef stew followed by some appetizer that Harry
didn't recognize at all. Goat cheese, Tracey would later inform him, was the main ingredient
and Harry did his best to eat as much as he could despite the off-putting taste.

“...so Parkinson comes striding into the hall, demanding that we pay for his House-Elves as
recompense and Bones, bless her liberal soul, tells him to bake his own pies!” Mr. Davis regaled
them a tale of a House-Elf gone awry.

Settling down from his chuckle, Mr. Davis focused his attention on Harry and he again had the
distinct feeling of being sized up for butchery.

“Harry says he doesn't quite know what he wants to do after Hogwarts. Looks like you're
just two peas in a pod, Trace.”

“I'm only thirteen, Dad,” Tracey grumbled. “I don't know what I want to wear tomorrow.
How am I going to know what I'm going to do in four years?”

“Four years isn't a long time. You're very clever, Tracey. Certainly talked me into
buying a few things I wouldn't have. I think the Wizengamot would make a good place for
you.”

The shakiness of her fork said otherwise and while Harry wanted to leap to her defense, there
was nothing he could really say to quell Mr. Davis' domineering request. He was certainly the
alpha male of the house and Mrs. Davis didn't lift a finger to stop his inane stories about the
Ministry.

“Yes, all of your stories are absolutely captivating. Why wouldn't I want to join?” Tracey
looked at Harry out of the corner of her eye and they shared a slight smile that they disguised
with a bite into their venison.

“Sarcasm is unbecoming of a lady. This is dinner, love,” Mrs. Davis reminded her daughter.

“Bollocks sarcasm,” Mr. Davis intoned as he downed another tumbler. “You need some of that to go
up against some of those half-wits in the Ministry. Did you know I was one of the ones who voted
yes on the Hogwarts bill? A bunch of other cowards thought it would turn Hogwarts into something
like Durmstrang but we don't have idiots like they have. We have Snape and some of the finest
students in the land. Tell me, Tracey, what place are you on the Master List?”

Tracey mumbled something indistinguishable and though Harry knew she wasn't as studious as
he, it was still a matter of pride to know your rank.

“What was that, dear?” Mrs. Davis asked.

“121st.”

“I suppose I would have been higher but good show deary,” Mr. Davis mused thoughtfully. “Though
if you were a bit more like our Harry here, you'd definitely be higher. It's no excuse,
Tracey. Harry was raised by *Muggles* of all people and is still doing well.”

“Yes,” Tracey said quietly, “Harry is *very* good.”

One ounce of guilt and two measures of embarrassment were the ingredients for this concoction of
dinner so far. Harry didn't know whether it was the drinks or just his overbearing personality,
but Mr. Davis seemed hell bent on embarassing his daughter.

“Tracey's also very good. Just the other rotation, she fought well against Hufflepuff,”
Harry said.

“Hufflepuff! Anyone could fight well against those. Makes me want to re-do school all over
again,” Mr. Davis gave a loud guffaw and this time, even Mrs. Davis shifted uncomfortably in her
seat.

“You're going to the Wizengamot, young lady. Even if you don't place that well,
we've set up a good track for you.”

“What if I don't *want* to go to the Wizengamot?” Tracey finally shot back, her voice
shaky.

Harry was caught right in the crossfire, cross between looking at Tracey's anguish and
pained face and Mr. Davis' calm and foreboding one. They contrasted each other well yet were
strangely similar. Tracey had her father's cheeky face and his fine nose but they differed in
their minutiae. An eye shape difference here or a jaw line there.

“What else do you think you're going to do after Hogwarts? Surely, not the Aurors. I doubt
you have the stomach for that sort of thing.”

A Hippogriff could have ravaged the rest of the house and even that wouldn't have moved them
from their seats. Harry sensed this was a confrontation long brewing but found his mouth glued
shut. It wasn't often that he lacked a retort or an interjection simply based on principle, but
there was nothing to be said here. Harry recognized when it wasn't his fight.

“I want to travel. I want to see the world. I want to see other cultures,” Tracey responded
shakily, all wit and logic seemingly deserting her. “I don't want to join the stupid Wizengamot
and all your stuffy friends.”

“Tracey Viola Davis!” Mrs. Davis admonished her, the knife in her hand clattering against the
plate. “Your manners! This is dinner!”

Mrs. Davis was leaning forward, her hands gripping the table tightly as her blue eyes danced
wildly from Mr. Davis to Tracey. Her mind wanted to stand up to admonish her daughter but her body
was willing itself to stay seated, manners and properness above all. Mr. Davis had yet to move from
his casually relaxed position but his jaw was clenched in a manner that bristled his beard while
his eyes regarded his daughter coolly.

“You're young, Tracey. You'll look back and laugh at this, but don't think
you're going to *travel the world* on my money.”

“I'm not joining the Wizengamot, father.”

“You will do as you're told.” The icy reply was spoken at a normal decibel but somehow, that
made it all the worst. Harry was rooted to his chair, stuck like Mrs. Davis, his tongue frozen to
the roof of his mouth.

“You're spoiled and ungrateful for the life we've brought you. What if you were a
Muggleborn, Tracey? What if you weren't as fortunate? And here I present you this opportunity
to make immediate connections with the Wizengamot and the Ministry and you want to do something so
silly as *travel the world?* I was part of what is making Hogwarts the best school in the
world and these recent changes have only further progressed the program. You *will* go into
the Ministry and you *will* carry this family name with dignity and honour.”

“Or else what?” She spit back acidly.

Mr. Davis rose from his chair and Harry did so in return, afraid as to what would happen. He was
massive as he drew himself up to full height, a huge barrel chest and and a mane around his neck
that seemed to stand on end.

“I have spent too much time and too much money sending you to this school to have you turn into
some traveling trollop.” Mr. Davis spoke the words so finely, a verbal sword cutting through
Tracey's protestations.

“I'm not some bloody *investment* that you get a return on in four years! You're
awful and you do an awful job and...”

“*TRACEY DAVIS. THIS IS DINNER!”*

Mrs. Davis finally snapped but managed to stay seated. Her hand was gripping a fork so hard that
her knuckles had turned pasty and the manic look in her eyes was incongruent with her proclamation
that it was dinner. Tracey took one look at her mother, astonishment written across her face,
before fleeing the room.

The shattered pieces of the argument were worn on Mrs. Davis' face as Tracey fled. Mr. Davis
was still standing, his hand calmly resting on the rim of his tumbler, the sour smelling amber
wafting from his mouth. Harry realized he was standing as well and deemed that sitting to finish
dinner would have been an awkward affair given the current outburst.

“If I may be excused...” Harry somehow remembered his manners.

No answer came from Mr. Davis except for a cold glare from his fiery eyes. Mrs. Davis somehow
managed the wherewithal to excuse him from the table and dressed in the best robes and shoes Blaise
could offer him, Harry walked as quickly as he could in pursuit of Tracey.

* * * * *

She was in her room, silhouetted by the magic moon outside of her makeshift window. Though it
was underground, each window was charmed with a view from the outside that could be changed by the
witch or wizard. Tracey was sitting on the windowsill, looking at the magicked moon with her legs
tucked up underneath her and her chin resting on her knees. The shadow cast from her body stretched
all the way to the door and she didn't even bother to look up as Harry knocked on her door.

“You don't have to knock,” she sniffled.

“Manners.”

A half-sob, half-chuckle came from her and Harry was pleased to at least bring a little laughter
out of her. He approached her carefully like she was a wounded animal and stood on the other side
of the windowsill, looking at the contemplative moon.

“I used to think he was just joking when he said I would join the Ministry, but without any
other sons to carry on the name, if I don't go on before I have a child then...”

“...he'd lose the seat.”

Tracey didn't answer affirmative, already knowing that Harry put the puzzle together. Wiping
a tear from her eye, Trace laid her cheek on her knees to look sideways at him.

“I'm sorry you had to see that,” she said through a couple hiccups.

“It's okay. I've seen worse.”

“You have, haven't you? Here I am complaining about my father having connections to the
Ministry and then you have those Muggles...”

“It's not being a Muggle that makes them bed,” Harry responded quietly. “But you have your
own problems as well. It's all relative.”

Silence fell over them in a hush as neither of them spoke, content to wallow in their respective
miseries. The moon even cast a light in the room and Harry silently took a seat on the windowsill,
leaning back against the frame as he kept his focus on the sky and not on Tracey's smeared
face.

“I must look pathetic to you.”

“On the contrary, you look positively delightful. If Blaise were here, he might even go as far
as saying you look acceptable.”

“If Blaise were here, he and father would be talking endlessly about the Wizengamot and
investments in troll muck and whatever stupid shite they talk about. I love Blaise, but
sometimes...”

“He gets a little involved when money comes around,” Harry finished.

A new set of tears rolled down her face and Harry was unable to do anything but watch. Comfort
had never been one of his strong suits and while he wanted to reach out to...do anything
really...he couldn't bring himself to reconcile her. It was an emotional stunt, he knew, but
what was he supposed to do? So he did the only thing that came to mind.

“When I was little, my cousin Dudley would always pick on me when his parents weren't
around. It got so bad one day that he wolloped me over the head and gave me a bruise. When I told
my Aunt, she gave me a pack of ice and told me that I shouldn't have gotten in his way.”

Tracey's jaw dropped. “That's awful!”

“The awful part was that afterwards, Dudley hit me in the same spot again. When I told him I
would tell Aunt Petunia, he said to do it. I did and she came up with some excuse for Dudley
again.”

“If you're trying to get me to feel sorry for you to distract me, it's working.”

Harry chuckled as he looked out at the magicked beyond. “No, that's not what I'm trying
to do. All I'm saying is I know when parents are sometimes blinded by their view of their
children. I don't know your father very well, but I think he does care about you - just - in
his own way.”

Tracey snorted but didn't respond. She contemplated his words for several minutes, twirling
away at her hair as they sat quietly on the windowsill together. Harry wondered why neither Mrs.
Davis nor Mr. Davis interrupted them or even sent Glibby to inquire what was happening, but they
must have at least respected Tracey's wishes to be left alone. There would be hell to pay later
and Harry resolved to stand besides Tracey as best he could when it happened.

“Thank you, Harry,” she finally said.

She reached out to poke his foot with hers and smiled at him. It was that sad smile, full of
complacency and acceptance tinged with irreversible sadness and failed expectations.

“I'm glad you're here.”

Harry shrugged as he leaned his head against the somehow cool window. “I have your back,
Trace.”

* * * * *

The rest of the break, Tracey studiously avoided her parents, bringing Harry along with her
whenever she could. There seemed to be some sort of implicit agreement with her mother where they
would have dinner seperately. It also helped that Mr. Davis was frequently at the Ministry during
this time despite the holidays. Eventually, they fell into a routine where Harry would tap the bar
to Tracey's room to see if she was awake. If she was, Harry would come to the second floor and
join her on the windowsill as they watched the magically changing landscape.

They talked for hours on end, about nothing and everything, learning about Tracey's
childhood and as much of Harry's childhood without revealing certain *inconsistencies*.
Harry was a good liar and while Tracey could usually spot his discomfort, it was easy for Harry to
convince her that Dudley was just a bully and his relatives just enabled him. It was far easier to
digest than the truth.

Eventually, the holiday break was over and Harry had to suffer through a terribly awkward
good-bye as Ian Davis shook his head with steely determination while Tracey avoided even speaking
with her father. Mrs. Davis wished him a kind semester while imploring that he should return and
Harry stuttered out an acceptable response, replaying that loud argument over dinner in his head as
a cautionary tale.

Tracey declined from mentioning her hopes and dreams after Hogwarts. Harry knew she was never
truly invested in Battle School studies, but not to the extent that she wished nothing to do with
the usual Ministry job that would accompany graduation. But it wasn't for Harry to judge what
she wanted to do with her life. He wanted her to be happy, whatever the case may be.

Joining the rest of the Hogwarts returning students, Harry and Tracey found Blaise and their
friend regaled them of stories about a hilarious dinner where his mother's new husband found
himself with a rather strange case of warts on his arse. It might have had something to do with the
potion Blaise spread on the toilet seat, but who was he to say?

As they returned to Hogwarts, Harry found a certain ball of discontent as he failed to spot
Granger on the platform and again in the train. She wasn't in the Great Hall for the return
ceremony nor was she there for breakfast on the first day of classes. He didn't want to panic,
but it was a symbiotic relationship. How was he supposed to learn a new spell and Occlumency
without her astute researching skills?

When she neither appeared in classes nor at dinner, Harry knew there was something amiss with
the empty seat in the Gryffindor table. But who could he ask? All of Gryffindor hated him and
Granger made few friends outside of the House. He did, however, know the one person she confided in
regularly besides himself.

Tracking down Longbottom was an easy task as he regularly traveled by himself. The fat, little
boy looked even more glum than usual as Harry intercepted him on his way to Charms.

“Longbottom, I need to speak with you.”

There was fear in his eyes as he shied away from the infamous Slytherin and Neville gulped as he
realized that he was alone in the hallway with the one and only Harry Potter.

*I hope he doesn't squeal like a pig.*

“I don't want anything from you,” Harry even showed his wand with a palm upturned, the
universal sign for non-aggression. “I just want to know where Granger is.”

Neville's eyes narrowed, his wits coming back to him as he stood a little straighter and
puffed out his chest a little more.

“What do you want with her?”

“For an assignment for Snape,” Harry smoothly lied.

“What assignment?”

“Well that's between me and her, innit?”

Neville shook his head as he looked Harry up and down. “If you have an assignment from Snape,
then you would know where she is.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

The Gryffindor boy looked at him incredulously, almost offended. He didn't respond as he
started walking away, not caring that he was alone in the hallway with Potter. Harry rushed after
him and even though he was at least a stone lighter, he pulled him back by his arm.

“Longbottom!”

“Let go of me, Potter!” Neville squeaked. “You should *know*.”

“Know what?” Harry threw his arms up, wondering if all Gryffindors were this maddening.

“You really don't know.”

Neville squinted at him like he was testing the truthfulness of Harry's existence. Harry
kept his lips shut, tired of pounding the stupid boy with question after question, only to be met
with constant rebuffs. *If only I had some Veritaserum*, Harry thought. Neville opened his
mouth and closed it repeatedly, like a gaping fish. Exercising extreme patience, Harry patiently
waited, a portrait of annoyance with his arms crossed and his foot tapping incessantly against the
cobble floor.

The Gryffindor finally spoke, his words hushed and his face pained.

“She's not here because her parents *died*.”

* * * * *

**A/N: So I missed my estimate by a long shot. I almost had it out by the time I estimated
earlier, but work fell on me and I vacationed for the holidays so here I am. I loved writing this
chapter and getting away from Hogwarts for a bit. Things will start to accelerate from here on out
and I hope all of you enjoy (or not enjoy depending upon what happens) the upcoming chapters. I
appreciate all of your reviews again and hope I can finish Part 1 of this story in a few months.
Leave your thoughts!**

**Estimated update time: 14 days**
 Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7
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14. Orphans
-----------



She returned the next week.

At first, Harry thought she was never returning. Longbottom's despondent state after
extensive interrogation revealed that her parents had been in a car accident after Christmas day
and died. A car failure or ice apparently were the potential causes as there were no other drivers
on the road when they careened into a tree. Neville only learned the news from one of the
Gryffindor Prefects who had been told that the status of Granger's return was uncertain.

Yet, she showed up within a week, calmly resolute as she walked into breakfast. Harry felt a
heavy weight off his shoulders, relieved that she should return but not knowing why. There were a
myriad of reasons, but Harry suspected it had to do with her loss. He knew what it was like to grow
up without parents but to have them taken away when you already knew them seemed like a damnation
that not even Salazar Slytherin would wish upon his enemies.

Tracey had noticed his despondent nature and chalked it up to the return of the term, but Harry
had carefully disguised it afterwards. Word of the reason for Granger's late arrival spread
like wildfire throughout the schools and Harry had to bear the brunt of some guffaws and laughs
from Malfoy, gritting his teeth while he silently cast a Boiling Hex on the imbecile's
legs.

Still, Harry came to breakfast with his shirt buttoned all the way to the top and his tie
tightened to a slightly uncomfortable tension around his neck. Granger glanced up at him and noted
his tie but made no indication that she was still meeting with him. Knowing that he would only find
out later if she responded to his request, Harry made no other action to flag Granger down.

Regardless, an uncertain bubble burned in his stomach throughout the day as he coasted through
Creatures and Potions. Whispers of the fate of Granger's parents reached his ears and he
gritted his teeth as they grew more and more ridiculous. He almost snapped at Hannah Abbot in
Potions when she relayed that Granger's parents had died at their Muggle dentistry but Tracey
laid a calming hand upon his arm.

“What is wrong with you?” Tracey looked up at him with a frown.

“You think they'd have a bit more respect,” Harry grumbled.

“And what makes you so interested in Granger's parents?”

Tracey's mouth snapped shut as soon as she asked the question, but Harry let it slide
without comment. There was a certain amount of shame in using his parents as disguise for his true
sympathy for Granger, but at the risk of Tracey discovering his relationship with the Gryffindor
girl, Harry bore the brunt of that shame for the moment.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered.

“Don't worry about it.”

And she left him alone after that, mindful of his own orphanage.

* * * * *

To his surprise, Granger showed up at her usual spot under the stairs leading towards the
dungeons. Harry felt a flutter of nervousness but quelled it, urging himself to act normal. It
wasn't easy, given their precarious arrangement as well as the recent development concerning
her parents, but Harry managed a curt nod as he found her. He *almost* asked how her holidays
were as a form of reflex but caught himself just in time.

Instead, he said, “Ready?”

She didn't answer for a moment and Harry noticed the hesitation, but she finally said,
“Yes.”

Harry let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding and led the way, knowing the
discrete path they took from numerous travels before. Avoiding the patrols of teachers and
Prefects, Harry found himself in front of the wall that lead to the magical cave underneath the
Great Lake.

The dark muddiness of the tunnel was suffocating and every step was filled with a tension that
made Harry bounce on Granger's heels. Normally, he was patient with her progress and cadence,
but he was bursting with inappropriate questions. It was a *feeling* that he couldn't
quite pin down, an anxious wonderment of her state of mind. But he couldn't ask her, he
didn't even *want* to ask her, but he *should* ask her.

“Don't, Harry,” she said as if she was reading his mind. Not for the first time, Harry
wondered if Granger already knew the finer points of Legilimency.

“I've gotten it from everyone else. Pity. Empathy. Even inappropriate things from some of
your friends -”

“They're not my friends,” Harry quickly interrupted.

“Regardless, I've been on the receiving end of every single sort of emotion. I've dealt
with cops, social workers, extended family, Snape, the Prefects, my own House, other Houses.
Honestly, I'm just bloody tired of it. I came back because I wanted to learn because learning
and education are the only things I understand right now, so I would appreciate it if you
didn't ask me *how I'm doing* or *are you okay?* I'm obviously not okay and I
feel like shit, so can we get to work?”

It was said so precisely and with such disheartening precision that made Harry pause several
steps behind her, remaining in the opening of the atrium that led towards the solitary table in the
cavern. Nearby, the pool of water splashed against the stone but it might as well have been the
roar of a tsunami.

Not only that, but she had cursed twice.

“Okay.” It wasn't often Harry was at a loss for words, but that seemed to be a phenomenon
that happened frequently as of late.

“Good,” she said, but the heavy way her bag slammed against the table indicated that this
session would be anything but normal.

Bu at first, everything seemed normal. Hermione procured her two journals and ran down their set
of immediate goals. Relative competence at Occlumency and perhaps Legilimency, if time permitted,
and investigation into the feasibility of creating a spell. True to form, Hermione ran down the
pros and cons as well as the estimated time frame of completion for both tasks. Obviously, there
were more variables included within creating a spell, but Hermione was confident they would be able
to achieve relative competence in Occlumency within just a couple of weeks. Therefore, they set out
to begin with that branch of magic first.

“Okay. Most of the books I've read indicated that to achieve a good mental block requires
clearing one's mind. There are various ways to do this and, honestly, it reminds me a bit of
Muggle yoga and meditation and I suspect some Buddhists monks are actually wizards in disguise.
Nonetheless, the spell to attack is *Legilimens*.”

Hermione rattled it off from her special set of notes, slicing down several summaries of
Occlumency until it suited her purpose. They were sitting across from each other and Hermione laid
down her journal next to a few references she had borrowed from the library. Rolling up her
sleeves, Hermione looked up at him and met his eyes for the first time.

There wasn't something as simple as profound sadness or even tears. Instead, Harry found a
strange emptiness mixed with a dormant hint of determination. Perhaps the learning of new branches
of magic and spells did indeed distract her from the horrifying memory of her deceased parents. If
it helped her recover, then Harry would play along.

“So should I go first or you?”

Hermione shrugged. “Chances are that neither of us will be particularly good at it. I'll go
first since I've been practicing the spell. Just remember to clear your mind. Would you like a
minute?”

“Sure.”

Harry closed his eyes - *according to this book, decreasing visual stimuli improves your
chances* - and took a deep breath, mimicking some of the strange folks that he would see when
avoiding Dudley and his gang at the park. They would sit cross legged with their fingers curled
into some sort of circle, humming to themselves. A flicker of a smile crossed Harry's lips as
he thought of those strange people.

“Take this seriously, Harry,” Granger admonished.

“Got it.”

He settled deeper and deeper into himself, trying desperately to clear his mind. Yet, there was
always a thought that would run astray. Thoughts of the next Battle class. Thoughts of the spell he
wanted to create. Thoughts of Tracey and her father shouting at the dinner table. Thoughts of
Hermione sitting in her room and crying to herself after learning her parents died. Try as might,
his mind wasn't fully cleared.

“*Legilimens.*”

It was hard to describe the sensation the spell gave. To Harry, it felt as if something were
being pressed against his head, a incisive object of sorts. Even though he knew it wouldn't
hurt him, he could feel the magic pressing against his skull, slowly pushing into his brain.
Perhaps it was Granger's inexperience with the spell that gave this strange feeling. Later,
against far superior Occlumens, Harry would realize that his theory was right. Other wizards sliced
through with the efficiency of a veteran swordsman.

Then came the images.

Hermione found them instantly, the calm reverie he tried to create shattering like a windowpane
crushed by a Quaffle, the ornate pieces scrambled to the wind. Instead of falling to the ground,
Hermione caught each piece, a refraction of his own life.

The first image was a flash of his first meeting with Tracey and Blaise. It played like a video
in one of Trow's Strategy classes, but calling it a video would have understated the feeling
that accompanied the memory. He could tell that Granger knew his emotions as Tracey extended her
hand in friendship as they boarded the canoes that would take them to Hogwarts. He could see the
impish smile on Blaise's face as he was introduced to the Boy-Who-Lived.

The second image was of the House Match during their First Year. Harry led his over matched
First Year Slytherins in a kamikaze attack against some Fifth Year Gryffindors, nearly taking them
all out but losing every member of his within the first five minutes. Harry himself had taken down
two Gryffindors four years his superior with stunning ferocity. The image replayed as Hermione
sifted through it easily.

The third and last image was of the Davis Mansion as the Ministry car pulled up on the driveway.
Tracey stepped out and a rush of emotions swept across Harry's mind as it pulled them into that
dark dining room. It was blurred around the edges as if they were viewing it through a viscous
liquid and Tracey was standing up, the beginnings of a loud argument...

*No.*

Harry pushed her out for a moment, feeling that incisive weapon retreating within his own skull.
To her credit, Granger didn't back down and renewed her efforts, forging her way into his mind
again.

It was a house crammed between two other houses, a pristine lawn bordering a perfectly swept
drive way with a car that was polished every weekend. The brown color gave the house an earthy
complexion but as the door swept aside, it was clear that the house was anything but homely. Garish
and simplistic at the same time, the house was perfectly kept. The image swept over a cupboard
under the stairs and Granger felt a pang of panic and horror at the same time. Quickly, it traveled
upstairs and Harry, unbeknown to either of them, started hyperventilating, knowing this memory.

*No*. This time, he was unable to push her out of his head as Granger continued
forward.

Like a Muggle movie, a large man emerged out of frame to open the last door on the left. Inside,
the room was sparsely lit and filled with minimal furniture. A little boy with jet black hair and
hand-me-down spectacles looked up, his green eyes drowning with shame. The large man took one step
inside the room and gently closed the door behind him...

**NO!**

The spell was snapped, both of them reeling. Harry pushed so far back that he toppled over his
chair while Granger pushed against the table with both hands, breathing heavily as she lowered her
head. They avoided eye contact as the memories washed away like a receding tide until it settled
into the depths of his memory bank.

“I suppose there was some success there,” Hermione finally muttered after they both caught their
breathes.

Not wanting to embarrass himself any further, Harry nodded his head, hoping she wouldn't
bring up the last memory. Granger stared at him and he knew that she didn't forget what she
saw. He could only hope that she wouldn't bring it up. But she avoided any mention of it, only
bringing her seat towards the table again and laying her wand flat on the surface.

“Let's test my progress, shall we?”

Eager to avoid any mention of his own memories, Harry agreed, trying to ignore the sweat rolling
down his back and the shakiness of his hands. Picking up the wand, Harry gave Granger the same
minute to compose herself. While her eyes were closed, Harry examined the bags underneath them and
the blotchiness of her skin. Fatigue and lack of sleep were visible on her face and he could only
imagine the horrors that lay underneath. A relapse of the freshly dug memories surged into his
brain and only through practicing that momentary calm did he push it down.

“*Legilimens.*”

This time, Harry felt himself holding the proverbial mental knife. Replacing his own vision were
memories and picture of Granger's own. He was in a vast cloud of nothingness with flashes and
pictures on either side of him. Reaching out to grab one, he was regaled with a memory of what had
to be Mr. Granger feeding Hermione ice cream. Her hair was a bushy mess even when she was a
toddler, yet the profoundly innocent way she reached up for the cone was endearing.

The image suddenly dissipated, yanked away from underneath him like a rug under his feet. He was
back in that same, murky nothingness but there were less pictures and images this time, some of
them far into the distance.

Yanking another memory, Harry was treated with the episode in which Tracey insulted Hermione
several times after their exchange in Strategy class. Feeling the shame and utter shock welling up
within the emotion, Harry felt a great deal of sympathy towards Hermione and a larger feeling of
hate towards Tracey. It was as if their emotions were overlapping and Harry could literally
*feel* Hermione's anger.

But again, that memory vanished faster than the last one and Harry landed in the gray, cloudy
nothingness again with even more memories fading into the background. Only a select few were at the
forefront and more were disappearing by the second.

*She's good at it. She can clear her mind faster than I can. When she went through my
memories, it was a knife going through hot butter, but she's kicking me out of her memories one
by one.*

Deciding to test the limits of the spell, Harry surged forward to grab several memories at once,
testing Hermione's boundaries.

The memories came too quickly and Harry wasn't a skilled enough Legilimens to cipher through
them with any efficiency. He could see House matches and duels, class lessons, a certain sense of
pride as she witnessed Harry attempt to talk the Hufflepuffs down from attacking him en masse.
There was fire and smoke and a jungle with a river running through it. Finally, there was snow
falling all over the ground, blanketing it in a thick, white sheet. There was a car and...

Nothing.

Like a camera being turned off, Harry saw nothing but white now. There was no gray, no
cloudiness. It was perfect nothingness. He was surrounded by an endless road that led to nowhere,
the white background extending to an infinity he couldn't reach.

She had cleared her mind.

“I give up,” Harry said as he pulled back the spell and felt himself withdraw from her mind.
There was a certain discomfort in doing so, like pulling the knife from the wound.

Hermione was pale as sheet, perspiration dripping from her nose and dampening her hair, but
still she nodded, a look of grim satisfaction on her visage. It didn't surprise Harry that she
was a superior Occlumens. No one could doubt the mastery of her brain, even in protecting itself
from outside intrusion. Still, it was a long way to go from competence. After all, they were Third
Years casting their first *Legilimens* spell. But it was a feat worth mentioning.

“Good job,” Harry offered.

“Thanks,” she demurely answered, as if disappointed that it were so easy. “We'll have to try
again once we've improved our ability to attack. You also have a lot of work to do. You
didn't do nearly as well as I did.”

“Quite obviously. But how'd you do it? I can't just clear my mind like you did.”

“Do you want compartmentalizing is?”

“Roughly. Splitting your mind into different parts?”

“That's kind of the idea. I don't think we can ever really clear our minds, but in
*The Fifth Art of Occlumency*, I read there were several ways to push our memories or even
hide them so the attacker can't find it. That's what I did,” Hermione explained.

“Clever.”

Hermione shook her head. “Luck. I would have been found out against an experienced Legilimens.
We still have a long way to go.”

“It's okay to pat yourself in the back every once and a while, Granger. Merlin knows
everyone else does it.”

“What's the point if you're not perfect at it? Or at least, nearly perfect.”

“Hogwarts wasn't built in a day, Hermione,” Harry said as he stood up to stretch his back,
his body strangely exhausted from the mental exercises.

As he stood up, Hermione quietly said, “Harry. What was that last memory of yours? Was that
where you lived?”

Harry froze in mid-stretch, his arms dangling above him awkwardly. As he loosened his body, he
did his best to masquerade the sudden panic rising within him. *How much did she see? Did she see
only what I saw or did she dig deeper? Did she see Vernon?* The questions hammered at him
despite his placid attitude.

“You said not to worry how you were feeling when walked in here. Might I make the same
request?”

He caught her in a bind and she knew it. Curiosity still danced in her eyes, but it was a sad,
slow dance, not a merry jig or a light foxtrot. She nodded, looking almost frail with her paleness
and tired eyes. Despite her success in repelling his mental attacks, the defense obviously took a
lot out of her. Little did he know how curiosity was like a rampant disease for her, burning
through every synapse of her brain until she discovered the truth.

“You don't have to answer, but I assume that's where you live. I can tell by the way all
of the houses are built in the same manner. There was a woman and a man and a fat child - Dudley, I
think you've called him before - and a lawn that looks like it's been mowed every third
day.”

“Every other day,” Harry corrected.

“How proper of them.”

He was still standing, almost towering over her as she sat patiently in her chair, staring up at
him with unabashed curiosity. Now aware of the feeling that a rudimentary Legilimens could
accomplish, he knew that she wasn't reading his mind, but it still made him uncomfortable. She
had come close, far too close to memories that were buried underneath layer after layer of mental
protection.

She avoided it. “Well, onto your spell.”

Breathing a sigh of relief that didn't go unnoticed by her, Harry retrieved his own journal
and flipped open to the first page, the only page he had written on.

“This is what I was thinking...”

* * * * *

So they continued with their lessons over the next two weeks. Resolving to accomplish at least
the Occlumency part, Hermione pushed for sessions every other day instead of sporadically during
the week. This caused a little discomfort on Harry's part as he had to wait longer and longer
as Blaise and Tracey grew more suspicious of his late night absences. Once or twice, they caught
him sneaking out late at night and he explained that he was simply keeping a look out for any
Hufflepuffs. He even had to miss a session when Tracey insisted on accompanying him as they kept an
eye for Justin Finch-Fletchley or any of his kin.

There was no progress made on identifying the three other bullies. Harry had kept Justin's
cryptic message to himself, assuming the *we* he referred to before he threw himself off the
building was just he and the other bullies. With little communication outside of sparing glances
from the Hufflepuffs, Harry was back to square one on identifying their mysterious identities.
Luckily, he had the grueling Occlumency lessons to occupy his time.

From the onset, Granger was much more skilled at the task than he was. It only took about four
or five sessions before she mastered the art of clearing her mind to such a degree that when Harry
performed the *Legilimens* spell, he could see nothing but blankness as he entered her mind.
Furthermore, as they grew more refined with their use of the attacking spell, Granger matched his
knowledge by squirreling away her memories so that he couldn't find them even when he based
stronger and stronger attacks on her.

Harry, on the other hand, was having a miserable time at it. Despite Granger's suggestions
and advice, he had progressed to being able to hold her off for a moment before she savagely tore
through his mind, exploring pieces of his past and present almost at will. Yet, Harry took a grim
satisfaction in closing off the Dursley part of his head. Anytime Granger would try and explore
Privet Drive, Harry could kick her out of his head. He couldn't hide the memory, but the force
with which he responded to her potential intrusion was enough to snap the spell altogether.
Unfortunately, his defense undoubtedly led to the unintended consequence of Granger repeatedly
questioning him about his home life.

At first, he deflected the questions genuinely and expertly as he usually did, but she was
relentless. *How come they never stopped Dudley? Why won't you show me any memories of your
Uncle? What are those feelings that I get when I start the memory?*

It came to a boil one session as he snapped the spell but only after a relentless and almost
brutal attack by her that left him shaking and sweating.

“Stop it!” he yelled, the cavernous room only enhancing his shout. “Give me a bloody break
here.”

“Why can't you bring that defense to your other memories? You have to be able to clear your
head, Harry. What's the point in defending only one area? Whoever tries to use it against you
will know that you keep it close to your chest.”

“Last time I checked, Occlumency wasn't part of the curriculum. I even asked a few of the
older students and there's not a *single class* that studies Occlumency!”

She rolled her eyes, brushing aside his concerns with a simple movement. “Nevertheless, we
should be good at it. If no one studies, what happens when someone first uses it?”

“You don't need to lecture me about that,” Harry snapped, frustrated with her attempts.
“I'm not as good at this as you Granger.”

She heaved a huge sigh, flipping through endless notes on her journal as she looked for a
solution to improve his aptitude. Using that small reprieve, Harry bit out of a chocolate bear he
took from dinner to replenish his thoughts. Granger would want to go again when he was ready, but
each time she attacked, he was less and less likely to clear his mind.

“Maybe...if we talked about those memories and why you can defend them, you can prorate it to
the rest of your mind,” she offered.

“There is no reason. I just hate them so much that it manifests itself in my mind.”

“Okay.” Hermione pursed her lips like she would do when she was in deep thought. “Let's try
something else then. All of these books focus on clearing your mind and clearing your mind. It
seems sound and it works for me, but wizards aren't exactly known for their innovation. If
it's not broken, why fix it? That seems to be their mentality. You're obviously not going
to be able to clear your mind anytime soon, so let's try something else. You can snap the spell
entirely. Even I can't do it. The best I can do is hide my memories so deep that you can't
find them, yet you can break the spell by force. Why don't you try constructing a defense
instead of trying to clear your mind?'

“How do I go about doing that?” Harry asked.

“Just take that *feeling* you have when I get to memories about your house. There's
something within you that creates these defenses that force me out. If you can extrapolate that to
the rest of your mind, it won't be as subtle as regular Occlumency, but it'll prevent
people from reading your mind,” Hermione explained, chewing her lip thoughtfully.

“Okay,” Harry said slowly, trying to think through the process. He imagined a wall of defenses
constructed around his memories, repelling Granger's attacks repeatedly. It wasn't all that
different from his carefully constructed barrier around memories of the Dursleys.

“Do it.”

That familiar incisive feeling returned. It was subtler as Granger perfected the spell, barely
alerting him at times. Prepared with a different tactic, Harry brought up his defenses instead of
trying to maintain a clear mind. Already, Granger was having difficult accessing his memories,
swishing about here and there as she frantically tried to latch onto one. But Harry was having more
success this time, alternating between constructing mental walls and lashing out at her
offensively. The latter tactic proved useful as he could feel her presence repel every time he
pushed at her.

It was a tango, Granger poking and prodding to see what she could find. This was by far the most
success Harry had against her to date. Her mental knife swung around, trying to cut away a piece to
examine, but he was a step ahead of her this time, raising proverbial walls and counter-attacking
with blistering results. Still, she was skilled in this art and increased her attentions for the
first time.

It felt like a thousand pinpricks right against his brain as she assaulted him with full force,
bombarding and tearing away at his defenses until she hurried onto driveway of Number Four Privet
Drive yet again. The door slammed open as a heavy sat man stomped up the staircase. There was no
one else home and she was seconds away from opening the last bedroom on the left when Harry managed
to regain his wits.

**NO!**

He threw her out with such force that suddenly he was in her head. Unprepared, Granger scrambled
to dash out her memories, but it was too late and Harry flung himself at a memory of a burning car.
Instantly, he was transported onto a snowy roadside, a car smashed against a tree, the hulking
metal bent around it like an accordion. Flashing lights swirled in the air as the three cop cars
and an ambulance blocked the roadway from anyone else. Inside one of the cars was a little girl,
barely over thirteen, with bushy hair, staring horrified at the scene before her.

Then suddenly, he was in the cave yet again, gasping for breath as a deep headache settled right
between his eyebrows. Somehow, he was standing and he was so weak that his knees were shaking.
Granger was worse off, on the ground in a tight ball.

“Hermione!” Harry choked out, racing around the table to her.

Reaching out to touch her, Harry recoiled as she visibly flinched, suddenly uncurling like a
caterpillar and staring up at him with wild eyes.

“Where am I?” she bewilderedly asked.

“We're in the cave, Hermione. You're here with me.” Harry assured her.

A brief relapse of the snow buried against the tree popped into his mind and it must have had
some residual effect on her. She snapped up, creating space between herself and Harry. Running a
hand over her face, she swayed as she tried to regain her orientation. Harry took a half step and
reached an arm out to help stabilize her, but she stepped back, enlarging the spacing between
them.

“Don't,” she quietly said. “Just don't.”

At once, Harry realized his mistake: making her relive her worst memory. He opened his mouth to
apologize, but a different voice flared his anger. *Why should I apologize? She's been
badgering me about Vernon all this time.* He tried to quell it but only managed to freeze up on
the spot, looking at her with a mixture of pity and anger.

“You shouldn't have done that.”

It was probably the worst thing she could have said.

“*Me?* You're the one trying to get through that door all the time! Some things are
meant to be private, Granger.”

“Then why did you pick that one!” She was yelling now, the echoes bouncing around the cavern.
“You could have picked any other memory, but you picked that one. Are you glad you know?”

“Stop being such a hypocrite. You're the one that wanted to see what was on the other side
of that door! You're the one poking into my mind! I haven't even so much as gotten a sniff
of what's going on inside there while you keep going at it over and over. Don't...don't
project onto me!” Harry worked himself into a furor, pointing and gesticulating as his temper got
the better of him.

“*Project?!*” Granger really did have a great offended expression. “My parents just died! I
know you don't know how that feels since you've never had any but it hurts. *It still
hurts*. You...you just won't talk about it! You think I don't know what your uncle did?
You think I don't know what that looks like? I'm not an idiot, Harry! I was trying to help
*you*. I was trying to let *you* come out and talk about it. What was the point of making
me relive my parent's death?! *WHAT WAS THE POINT OF THAT, HARRY?*”

Her shrill voice ended with a finality that wasn't reciprocated by the bouncing echoes that
surrounded Harry. He was shocked, unable to move as he processed her words, insults and all. He
should have been offended by her slight about lacking parents, but she was right. They were taken
from him when he was barely old enough to process memories. Judging by the way she sifted through
his own, he could barely remember what they looked like. She, on the other hand, had just been home
with them. Just celebrated Christmas with them. What was the point? But he knew why he did it. It
might not have been the best way to go about it, but he, more than anyone, knew the dangers of
repressed emotions.

So slowly, he loosened his tie and took it off, then started unbuttoning his shirt.

“What are you doing?” Granger asked in alarm.

He didn't answer her, continuing to unbutton his shirt until it was fully free, revealing
his pale and reedy body underneath.

“Harry, stop it!” Granger ordered.

Ignoring her, Harry turned around, holding the shirt within his grasp but lowering it so his
back was exposed, and heard her gasp. No doubt she could see the several scarred lines running
across his back. No doubt she could see the wisps of faded red marks across the back of his
shoulders. No doubt she could see the criss-crossing paths of the scars, tracing a map. No doubt
she could see the ones that were more faded than others, a time line of his punishments.

Making a turn so he could face her again, Harry slowly pulled his shirt back up, taking a
perverse pleasure in noticing the grim expression on her face and the way she held her hand to her
mouth. Once he was fully clothed again, Harry gathered his belongings as Granger stood frozen
against the wall, her hand still against her mouth.

“I'm not the only one that needs to talk about it, Granger.”

* * * * *

Occlumency was harder than it seemed. Each session left him exhausted and felt worse than any
duel or House match. Harry expected that his mind would be tired, but it also took a toll on his
body. Every night, he dragged himself back to the Slytherin Common Room. Perhaps, on this night,
the combination of several Occlumency sessions coupled with his emotion-draining fight with Granger
left him a bit lackadaisical in his return approach.

Perhaps it was why he missed the blue eyes staring at him as he emerged from the wall.

Harry had his head down, his feet dragging as he tried to bring himself back to the Common Room.
His hands were shaky, but he didn't know whether it was from the Occlumency or his revelation
to Granger. It was the first time he had ever let anyone see those scars. It was part revenge and
part catharsis. Part uplifting and part damnation. Their relationship was forever changed, but he
left to her to decide which direction it would go. Frankly, he was too exhausted, emotionally and
physically, to decide.

Perhaps, lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice that another person followed him through the
Common Room entrance.

And as he slumped into bed, not even bothering to change his clothes, perhaps he ignored that
slight twinge in his chest that broke and allowed a tear to roll down his cheek as he fell
asleep.

* * * * *

“This is...unexpected.”

“Did you think you could drive her away? Did you think she would give up?”

“Perhaps I underestimated her.”

“Maybe my words still hold some council then? Are you surprised she picked it up this
quickly?”

“Surprised is the wrong word. I always expected it, but I didn't think that her parents
dying would...”

“...be a catalyst? Not all plans bend exactly to your wishes. No, not even ones as unnecessary
as killing her parents.”

“It might have been rash.”

“Humble too? My Merlin, should I retrieve the werewolf to let him see this show?”

“Don't jest. Her grasp on Occlumency is tenuous but she will recognize any intrusion into
her mind now. The boy isn't quite as handy, though that doesn't surprise me.”

“How could he be with what we've put him through?”

“Still, despite the problems that it may incur by withholding our access to his mind, it will
undoubtedly help against his fight with the Dark Lord. I had hoped to introduce him to Occlumency
by his Fifth Year, but it seems the Muggleborn has proved to be far more useful than I thought.
Don't mistake this as a summons for her though, she still possesses other dangers to him.”

“Emotional attachment? It's not something that is *always* dangerous. We could use it
to our advantage. Place her in a situation that would awaken a deeper understanding of magic from
him.”

“Use her as bait? And I thought I was sinister.”

“It's not bait. It's a controlled situation. It might be time to utilize the four yet
again.”

“Agreed, though I don't think I will be using Legilimency this time. The Hufflepuff boy has
devolved into something unmanageable at this point. Other methods must be utilized.”

“There is one other troubling matter as well.”

“You've noticed it too? For once, I don't think we can do anything about it. He would
have realized the difference of his upbringing sooner or later. There are methods of keeping him
from shutting down entirely, but I fear he may cross the threshold.”

“He is stronger than you think, despite what we've put him through. Wasn't the reason we
did it? To harden his shell so that he could numb any other distress?”

“There are limits. I know them best of all. A perfectly brewed potion must neither be overheated
nor should it be cooled to an extent where it becomes useless. It should be simmering, waiting to
be applied at the right moment.”

“Is it time then?”

“Not yet. He has one more lesson to learn. Only then will we pit everyone against him.”

* * * * *

**A/N: Early update time as I've found myself with a couple days free. Harry's Third
Year should only last around 8 or 9 more chapters give or take and then I'll decide if I want
to continue the story. That doesn't mean I'll end the story after that, but I will just
take that time to reevaluate and see if I want to keep writing at that pace. Once again, I enjoy
all of your reviews and hope to hear more from you.**

**Estimated Update Time: 14 days**
 Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7
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15. Messy Triangles
-------------------



The sessions stopped for a while.

Granger made no signal to contact him and Harry didn't bother trying to catch her attention.
He was still smarting from their explosive outburst and the last thing he wanted to do was
sequester himself into the cave with her. That wasn't to say he stopped his Occlumency training
though. Coming up with creative defenses, Harry thought of traps and feints to bait the attacker
within his mind. It wasn't subtle and anyone with a shred of talent in Legilimency would know
that their presence was detected, but it would serve its purpose: protecting his mind.

Of course, Granger was right though. Duels became easier. Once, during one of their meetings,
Granger determined that her statistical model was inefficient. It would have been easier if there
was a constant stat collector or even a spell that kept track of such things, but she knew it would
be improbable to place a spell on every student, even within their own year. Perhaps that was why
she was so obsessed with Occlumency. Either way, the 52% of the time that Terry Boot used
*Stupefy* was irrelevant at that point. Moody's class had progressed well enough that even
the simplest of students could cast a few non-verbal spells to catch their opponent off guard.

For Harry, it was something else though. Everyone seemed to move slower. Either that or he just
moved faster. From the very first moment his opponent would adopt his dueling stance, it was as if
Harry could read his first five spells off the bat. Sometimes, he would toy with them, see how long
it would take to beat them without using a significant spell. It didn't matter who it was.
Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin couldn't beat him. Winning streaks were
nothing new, but even Harry and Granger lost once in a while. It was unprecedented if it
weren't for the fact that he never faced Granger.

The early part of the semester focused on individual duels before the latter part of the
semester shifted gears towards House matches again. The professors liked to model the semester this
way so that the House Match between the years fell right after classes, followed by the Hogwarts
Trophy. Harry still had an outside chance of participating for the Hogwarts Trophy as his recent
string of wins propelled him to 18th.

It wasn't until a day in early February that the legend really took off.

It was Battle class with the Ravenclaws, the rotation sticking them with Slytherins for the time
being. No love was lost between them, but their first month back from school had been exhausting.
It seemed as if every teacher had thrown theory out the window and began their practical work with
such fever that it was even stressing Harry. It only made it all the worse that Snape refused to
let up.

The headmaster turned around the corner of the hallway, billowing robes and all, as the rest of
the class waited in front of the Room of Requirement. Wordlessly, as he often did, he paced across
the wall three times until a door appeared. Without issuing any commands, the class followed him
inside, prepared for whatever monstrosity his mind created this time.

Only, it was just a classroom. There was a giant circular staging area and the seats were on a
raised dais, but it was still a classroom with benches and tables nonetheless. Judging by the
relatively small size, it was meant to be another dueling session. Harry took a seat with the rest
of the Slytherins, between the usually animated Blaise and the unusually quiet Tracey.

She had been rather taciturn for the last couple of weeks. Whereas she usually engaged Harry in
lengthy conversations about nothing and everything at all, Harry suspected that she was
*avoiding* him. At first, he let her go, not knowing whatever womanly convention was taking
hold of her, but after a while it was annoying him. Secretly, he knew he missed her usual cheerful
presence or her blasé attitude to counter-act Blaise's outrageousness, but at the moment, he
was annoyed with her avoidance.

“Quiet,” Snape said it in a normal voice, but it hushed the class like a blanket tossed on a
fire.

“Potter.” He didn't so much as look in Harry's direction as he ordered him front of
center and Harry sighed a bit petulantly. He didn't have the numbers to back it up, but it
seemed as if Snape was calling on him frequently these days.

“Goldstein.”

Goldstein was a fastidious dueler, simplicity and execution being his favored means. He was an
oddity among Ravenclaws in that he didn't go out of his way to prove that he was smarter than
you. Instead, he relied on the simplicity of his movements and his astute accuracy instead. Harry
knew that he could simply overpower him but a little caution never hurt.

“Brocklehurst.”

Harry just barely caught himself, his passive Occlumency taking over as he willed his face to
strident impassivity. Never had Snape pitched two students against one so far. It didn't take
long to realize that it was a test for him. Perhaps his recent undefeated streak had piqued
Snape's curiosity. Either way, it was not something Harry was entirely prepared for.

Snape stepped onto the raised dais and carelessly waved his wand into the air causing a blue
dome to appear around them. It was the protective shield and didn't allow any outside help.

“The duel ends when either Mr. Potter is defeated or both Mr. Goldstein and Ms. Brocklehurst are
defeated. Standard rules apply.” His tone was almost bored, but Harry knew better. There was an
arrogance about it, a disbelief that Harry could possibly win against two.

Anthony and Mandy were huddled together, discussing something behind cupped palms as they waited
for Snape to signal the beginning of this duel. Harry looked up and saw Blaise give a worried thumb
up while Tracey sat back, looking at him curiously. It was another oddity as Tracey was usually a
poor actor and always showed traces of uncertainty when Harry was dueling.

*Wonder what's gotten into her head?*

“Begin.” Snape's voice was soft, but it might as well have been a firecracker to Harry.

Throwing all caution to the wind, Anthony and Mandy opted with a rather un-Ravenclaw show of
brute force as they sprung at him with squarely offensive spells. His first plan to eliminate one
of them still stood, but it was secondary to surviving this initial onslaught. Harry caught both of
their spells with a rather wide *Protego* shield and then pivoted his attacks to Anthony,
supplying him with a wordless Jelly-Legs that caught him off-guard while setting area trigger traps
in front of Mandy, who was foolishly running towards him.

Since it took Anthony a second to figure out which spell Harry had used (and Ravenclaws almost
always suspected it was a higher level curse instead of something as silly as a Jelly-Legs), it
gave Harry ample time to focus on eliminating Mandy, the superior duelist. Unfortunately for him,
she was as nimble as she was petite, dodging his spells delicately while countering with a sharp
and arcing Whiplash Jinx that would have caused considerable damage to his skin had he not banished
it with a Whiplash Jinx of his own. It was one of the few spells that canceled each other out, but
it required precision timing on his part.

At once, that strange feeling of time being slowed down overtook him again. Mandy was twisting
in the air, her momentum pulling her towards his right in a strange mid-air turn. He remembered
Blaise once telling him that she was in ballet while she attended Muggle Primary and all the things
he wished he could do with her flexibility. Anthony was slowly casting a *Finite* on himself,
his face clearly vexed by the simplicity of Harry's jinx.

It would have been difficult to hit Mandy. Harry always had that problem facing her. If anyone
doubted her ballet background, they could see it in her feet as she avoided curse after curse,
nimbly dodging left and right. Of course, all Harry would do was keep pestering until she was
caught off-balance or tried a meek counter attack, but it was more difficult when it was two on
one. Knowing that, Harry resolved to take out Anthony first and then deal with the dancing girl
later.

Little did he know, they anticipated just that.

He should have noticed that Mandy was moving around him in a methodical clockwise circle while
Anthony stayed put. He should have noticed that they were placing him in the middle, forcing him to
fight on two opposite fronts. He *did* notice it right as Mandy got to right about the five
o'clock mark on the invisible clock on the floor.

By now, he had to resort into turning into a tornado of magic. Constantly turning between them,
the blue dome exploded in a shower of lights as Anthony and Mandy responded with devastating
efficiency, alternating spells to throw Harry off track, hitting him at the same time so he had to
respond to both. But it was clear for everyone to see that Harry wasn't backing down. In fact,
it was almost the opposite.

Harry attributed his resilience to Occlumency training. It looked simple if you were an outsider
staring at he and Granger's sessions. Two people sitting across each other with only a wand
trained and one spell shouldn't have exerted so much effort. Yet, later on, Harry would learn
that training the mind in such a way increased magical capacity and stamina as well. After all, it
was often that mind that would shut down first. That was why normal Muggle soldiers always went
through so much rigorous training. Their mind would shut down in combat and their instincts from
training would kick in.

It was the opposite for Harry.

The longer they dueled, the more Harry would notice their little signs of weakness. Mandy would
be sluggish in her steps, bringing up a shield every now and then to let her catch her breath.
Anthony would lose concentration, shooting his spell upwards as his arm grew tired, his magical
reserves exhausted. Harry would have defeated them in just another minute, taking advantage of an
opening from one of them as he continued to parry and counter to delay time, but Snape had other
plans.

“Boot. Get in there.”

Terry was so enraptured in the engrossing duel that he didn't hear the headmaster's
orders the first time. It wasn't until Padma Patil nudged him in the arm that he turned to look
at Professor Snape. Snape inclined his head passively, his coal eyes glittering as he repeated the
order.

“Boot, join the duel. Join your House.”

By now, even Tracey sat up as Terry sprung up from his seat, making his way off the dais to step
into the blue bubble of the dueling arena. Malfoy looked positively giddy, anticipating Harry's
defeat and his ensuing fall from grace in not only the Master List but the loss of his winning
streak as well. Blaise was grumbling, trying desperately to raise the odds in Harry's favor,
but no one was taking anymore bets. Harry couldn't possibly win three on one with a fresh
opponent.

Then again, a baby couldn't possibly defeat the Dark Lord.

* * * * *

“You're a right show off you know that? Everyone except Malfoy was wanking over you by the
time you were done,” Blaise complained as they walked through the dirty, melting snow to Hogsmeade
during the weekend.

Harry couldn't help but grin at that, satisfaction creeping into his bones as he pushed a
stray snow rock away. Blaise was at his right and Tracey was on his left as they took the winding
pathway towards the little village at the base of Hogwarts. Snape permitted them a few visits every
semester and after an intense round of classes, not to mention the chaotic Battle class which saw
Harry defeat three Ravenclaws, they needed a break.

“The *great* Harry Potter defeating three Ravenclaws at once! I didn't know whether the
whole House was offended or awed by what they saw. They're a ruthless bunch, Harry. Next thing
you know, we're going to have to be watching out for them too,” Blaise continued.

Harry shrugged. “Let them. If they couldn't beat me three on one, why should they be mad at
me? I thought they were supposed to be logical.”

“They're still proud. Anyone would have felt embarrassed for not being able to beat you.
Multiply that by a whole house and now all the Ravenclaws hate you as well,” Tracey added.

“Oh come off it! I did what anyone would have done.”

“Think you did a little more than that, mate,” Blaise said. “Will you tell me how you
*really* did it?”

Harry rolled his eyes, wiping a few snow flakes from his beanie. “For the last time, it was an
*accident*. I wasn't even aiming for Terry! I missed Anthony and the spell hit him from
the ricochet.”

“Still, people say that you were so infuriated that Snape would dare send a third person that
you smite him on the spot like Merlin himself.” Blaise mimicked thunder coming down from the sky
and obliterating an invisible target on his palm.

Harry chuckled at Blaise's gesticulation, feeling strangely good about the gossip.
*Good*, he thought. *I'm tired of people thinking I don't deserve my ranking
anyways.*

*“*Besides, I think you're still having a laugh. It was an *accident*, he says!
*I didn't mean to do it!* Bollocks that, Harry.”

*Believe whatever you want to believe, Blaise*.

“You still haven't given a reasonable explanation on how you beat Mandy and Anthony though.
Don't tell me that was an accident too?” Tracey asked.

Explaining that was a bit more difficult.

The surprise of Terry entering the stage had not only caught Harry off-guard but Mandy and
Anthony as well. Recovering quicker, Harry attempted to stun Anthony but the Ravenclaw responded
well. Inspired by a sudden idea, Harry wordlessly cast *Legilimens* on Anthony. To anyone
else, it would have looked like Anthony had a brief lost of concentration, but Harry had covertly
plucked a memory of his crush on Mandy. Unable to react, Anthony was easily stunned and after that,
it was just a matter of whittling down Mandy.

Unfortunately, Harry couldn't quite reveal that he knew Legilimency to that degree. He was
confident that others wouldn't be able to spot it on the Stationary Omnioculars. Perhaps the
only person that might detect the spell would be Snape, but Harry wasn't worried in that
regard. A smidgen of guilt crept into him as he thought about his lie, but considering what it
would protect, there was a safe risk involved.

“Just caught them off guard,” Harry lied.

“Right.” Tracey's eyes narrowed imperceptibly but it passed quickly like a snowflake in the
wind.

“Well whatever you did has gotten everyone buzzed up,” Blaise said.

Buzzed might not have been the correct word. Every Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw gave him a wide
berth, ranging their expressions from terrified to contemptuous. It was a matter of pride to the
Ravenclaws. That one person had beat not two but three of their students ruffled their feathers.
Never mind that it wasn't even Harry's fault that the numbers had been so lopsided. In
their minds, Harry had not only insulted their intelligence by his handy victory, but had also
shown off to impress Snape. If there was one thing they couldn't stand, it was the matter of
their administrator's and educator's opinions.

It was evident in their traversal to Hogsmeade that Harry was quickly becoming a hallowed
figure. In some ways, he was emerging from under the shadow of the Boy-Who-Lived and becoming a
different myth in his own right. Harry did little to give off the impression that he noticed but it
was hard not to. Every Hufflepuff that was old enough to understand or even young enough to notice
practically snarled and snap as he walked by. Every Ravenclaw looked upon him coolly, trying
desperately to maintain their aura of intellectual importance.

It was a relief then, when he spotted Luna Lovegood playing idly in the snow.

Harry paused as he looked at the pale Ravenclaw and motioned for Blaise and Tracey to go ahead.
“I'll meet you in Three Broomsticks in a minute,” Harry said.

Both of them looked from Harry to Luna with bewildered gazes and Tracey scrunched up her pretty
face as her blue eyes shifted back and forth but they eventually let it go, telling him that they
would wait near the back of the inn.

Harry approached Luna, noting the sideways glances the rest of the students were giving him. His
boots crunched in the snow, fresh footprints left in his path as the wet fringes of his jeans
touched his ankles. Luna was crouched in the two feet deep snow, building what looked to be a
miniature version of Hogwarts with a combination of hand sculpting and wand waving.

“Hello Luna.” He announced his presence.

“Harry,” she smiled brightly at him, her large eyes obscured by strangely large sunglasses and a
knitted beanie that had pigtails running from either side. “You've been busy lately.”

“That's one way to say it.”

“It seems you've been playing games with some of the other kids in my House.” Luna focused
on the miniature Hogwarts snow castle, perfect the bridge. “I'd bet a Crumple-Horned Snorcack
that they're none too happy with you.”

“I don't think it's particularly my fault they're unhappy with me.”

“Is it the Leather-Winged Catfish's fault when they decide to mate with the Winlky Pixie,
killing the male in the process? I think not, but I don't think the fault ever lies where it
should.”

Tightening his lips in response to her purposefully obtuse question, Harry motioned towards the
castle. “You built the secret passageways too?”

She stopped all of a sudden, looking up at him with a blankness instead of her usual dreamy
stare. “And what do *you* know about secret passageways?”

Harry was caught aback for a moment but he recovered without even showing true surprise on his
face. The Occlumency was helping him mask his reactions. “If there are, I haven't found
any.”

Luna gave a long, hard look and then the coldness evaporated, her face quickly reforming into
the cheerful otherworldliness. “I suppose that rumor is false.”

“Which rumor?”

“There's plenty where you're concerned, but I think most of it is rubbish. Some people
say you can read minds but of course you can't. Only the Jelly Brainfish can read minds.”

Harry barely suppressed his smile, masking it with a cough from the bitter cold. “That's an
interesting one.”

“There's others, but when I tell them what I thinking, they're not as nice about it.”
Her voice dropped a whisper as she concentrated on a particular window that looked to be
Ravenclaw's tower.

“They're not still giving you a hard time, are they?” Harry thought about that particular
night with Roger Davies, Marietta, and Belby. Even now, anger spun across his skin as he thought of
their torment.

“Oh no, Roger has been particularly genial towards me. Not Marietta though. I strongly suspect
that the Winklefoster has gotten to her.”

Harry didn't even bother asking what a Winklefoster was. “Good. I'm glad to hear
it.”

“Don't be too glad, Harry. There's rumors but there's also rumblings about you.”

“Rumblings?” Harry asked.

“Oh yes.” She nodded her head up and down, the snowflakes coming off her well-knit beanie as she
sculpted the door to the Entrance Hell. “I daresay you've made less friends than I have since
this beginning of this year.”

It was part self deprecation and part pity, but it was all truthful. As Harry looked up, he saw
even more Ravenclaws giving him dirty looks, especially the few that were in Luna's year.

“They don't like me very much,” Luna said softly.

“Forget about them,” Harry responded.

Luna was quiet for a moment, the soft murmur of steps across cobblestone and the hard crunching
of the snow in the distance seeming louder and louder as that stretch of silence dragged on. Harry
was still ankle deep in snow, pondering Luna's rather cryptic words. Then again, the girl was
always cryptic, even when dealing with cryptology. In a voice above a whisper, Luna declared, “All
done.”

And it truly was a job well done on her part. The snow model was about four by six meters. Luna
had painfully crafted every single window as well as the particular towers and peaks. It was
meticulously detailed and though Harry didn't have a clue of how Luna performed in Battle
class, it was obvious she had talent.

“Watcha doing Loony?! Making another stupid castle? Want me to knock this one down too?”

The voice came from behind Harry and therefore, the boy probably didn't recognize who Harry
was with his back turned. Harry took a moment to situate himself in the snow, finally turning to
see a pudgy faced boy with a Ravenclaw pin on his jacket. That smile he had reminded Harry of
Dudley's oafish grin right before he set about terrorizing the neighborhood.

That smile vanished when he looked up to see Harry Potter, wand in hand.

The fat boy didn't even speak. Only a whimper came out as he stopped in his tracks, his
bulbous hands reaching for his wand subconsciously. Harry exhaled a long breath, the fog shooting
out of his mouth with dramatic effect. Harry mustered the iciest look he could manage and very
subtly cast *Legilimens* under his breath.

Instantly, Harry grasped into a memory of the fat Ravenclaw falling on his rather well endowed
arse and suffering the embarassing laughter of his peers. Pushing it to the forefront of his mind,
Harry focused on that memory before letting go, relishing the scared and sickly expression on the
boy's face.

“You should probably go,” Harry said in monotone voice.

The boy scrambled back to his friends, casting a few furtive glances over his shoulder until
they were out of sight. Harry turned back to Luna who had the same calm pensiveness about her. When
she lowered her unnecessarily large sunglasses, Harry looked into her eyes and
saw...*fear*?

“You should be more careful, Harry. The mind reading is just a rumor for now.”

* * * * *

It was in between classes, a hallway crowded of Houses and Years of different sorts.

Harry felt someone bump into him and he soldiered on, but he felt the cool imprint of something
settling into his palm. Knowing it would be suspicious to stop and check it on the spot, Harry
waited until the hallway cleared and opened his palm to find a inconspicuous silver coin. It would
have looked like a Sickle but the weight and shape were wrong. The raised engraving wasn't
raised on this coin and though it also had some sort of symbol on it, it wasn't an official
Ministry Sickle.

The silver coin suddenly warmed in his palm and his eyes widened as he saw words scratch
themselves into the outer rim.

*Cave. 9.*

Pocketing the silver coin into his pocket, Harry smiled as he walked into Creature class. Today,
the lesson was centered around Unicorns.

* * * * *

“What's the spell?”

“It's a Protean Charm,” Granger answered as they walked through the dark tunnel to the cave.
“It works by linking objects together. Once charmed, anything I inscribe in mines will show up to
yours. It goes without being said that you should at least tell me if it happens to be
misplaced.”

“Of course,” Harry responded.

Granger said nothing of their previous meeting, her mien all business as usual. Harry even
thought that they would jump straight into Occlumency training again or work on developing his
spell but when Hermione pulled out her journal and placed her wand down, he suspected that she
would want something worse. She would want to talk.

“We need to talk about this. I understand if you don't, but I don't particularly want to
go through the awkward tap dance of avoiding the subject.”

There was no nuance with her, just a strange, cold bluntness that would have been off putting
had it not felt so relieving.

“Am I correct in assuming those are from your Uncle?” She began.

“Yes,” he responded, his hands suddenly shaky.

She nodded, mostly to herself, as her eyes took on that glazed expression she usually had when
she was processing things quickly in her mind. The corner of her mouth quirked into something that
looked to be a grimace, but she just stopped and opened her journal, opening it to a page that
said: *Spell Design*.

“That's it?” Harry asked, mildly surprised.

He could tell that she wanted roll her eyes, but perhaps she suppressed it for his sake. “It
answers a lot of the questions I have.”

Then pivoting without so much as a glance upwards, she started relaying him the information she
found in her sparse notes.

Predictably, there weren't too many books on creating spells. More books than the few she
parsed from the library about Occlumency, but still not enough to have a definitive method to
simply create one. Most of them were academic studies and research, postulating different theories
in the creation of spells. All in all, Granger found two common strands. Creating a spell was
*very difficult* and that the strength of the spell was bounded to the magical potency of the
spell caster.

The first theory wasn't so much stated as it was exemplified through the meticulous notes
taken by academia. Nearly all of them approached the study with the wish to create a spell of their
own and only three of them had succeeded. Granger initially wanted to focus on the three that
succeeded, but took some time to read the failed notes to avoid pitfalls in their attempt to create
a spell. A good number of them had failed simply because they didn't have the power or
understanding to create that first spell.

Though it wasn't very scientific, there were several hypothesis that concluded that a spell
created was so difficult because the innate understanding of the spell was unknown. You could see a
*Stupefy* or a *Wingardium Leviosa* in action and believe it, but it wasn't the words
that made it so nor was it the wand movement. It was a combination of these intricate patterns
coupled by the fact that you could see it happen. That was why teachers frequently demonstrated the
spell first.

At least, that's what Granger surmised.

“And you read all of this?” Harry skeptically asked he thumbed through the notes of *Constant
Levitation: An Attempt to Defy Gravity*.

“Most of it. I had to skim through the boring parts,” Granger said as she licked her thumb to
wet the corner of a parchment.

“Which parts were those?” Harry dryly asked.

Granger answered honestly, “The research methods and data collection. I just assumed that these
studies were peer reviewed instead of reading through it. It would be a pain otherwise.”

None of that made a lick of sense to Harry.

“So you have to understand the spell. I definitely understand what I want to do,” Harry
explained.

“It's not just that.” Once again, Harry had the impression that Granger was being patient
for his sake. “You have to *truly* and *innately* understand the spell. So much so that
you don't have to think about it. So much so that it has to be known within you. It's
like...how do you this quill will come down?”

She tossed it in the air and it unceremoniously clattered against the table.

“Gravity.”

“And how do you know it stays up?” This time, Granger threw the quill in the air and cast a
Levitation Charm on it.

“You're using a Levitation Charm.”

“Yes, but you *know* these things. You don't struggle to understand them, it's just
something common to you. It's like....what's anger?”

“When you feel...angry?” Harry shrugged, not understanding the question.

To his surprise, Granger excitedly pointed at him. “Exactly! You know what it is, but the only
way you can explain it is that you *know* what anger is. Either that or you just use different
words to describe it, but it's still the same thing. I think that's what creating a spell
is. You have to truly understand it, know it, believe it. It's not just believing or thinking
it will happen, it's a certain kind of knowing that taps straight into your magical core.”

“So I have to know it?” Harry drew the words out slowly, trying to think over what she said.

“It sounds simple, but that's what made it so difficult for all these researches. They tried
to tie to things they knew or derive it from other spells or a bunch of other things, but I think
the key to it is - and this is moderately backed up by the three researches that accomplished
creating a new spell - to really *know* it.” She excitedly flipped pages of her notes until
she found the line she was looking for.

“In the end, it wasn't etymology or wand movements or a certain word. It was this deep,
burning desire to have the dishes cleaned. James Morrimont,” she quoted.

“He created the spell?” Harry laughed.

“Yes! But I think he misuses the word *desire*. Everyone one of those who studied spell
creation desired to make a spell, but I think Morrimont truly understood it.”

“What if it's more difficult than washing the dishes?” Harry asked.

“That's the key, isn't it? You have to be strong too and for what you're
asking....”

Harry nodded, agreeing with her on the difficulty of the spell.

“I suppose we should start sooner rather than later then?”

* * * * * *

They studied more theory until a little after midnight. Granger had some interesting ideas
involving branching ideas and bringing them together to create the spell. At the very end, they
even attempted to find a phrase or wording that would assist them in casting the spell. It revealed
very little actual progress, but there was some promising groundwork laid. Granger concluded that
they could at least attempt a smaller scale version of the spell Harry wanted to create and though
she had her doubts in the beginning, it would at least make a decent academic study that she could
submit should she want to go into research.

Thankfully, she avoided any mention of his scars or any matter of the sort. Once or twice, Harry
thought he caught her staring at him when he wasn't looking or when he was concentrating on
copying down a certain passage of notes. Harry chalked it up to mild curiosity and even a morbid
fascination. If it weren't for the underlying reason behind his scars, they would have looked
impressive in their own grotesque fashion.

Retiring for the night, Granger reminded him not to lose his silver coin with the attached
Protean Charm and she would contact him for their next meeting so he didn't have to button his
shirt to the top every time he wanted to. Teaching him the spell to contact her in return, they
parted ways as they exited the Cave.

Returning to the Slytherin Common Room, Harry felt fresher than after their Occlumency lessons.
He even had a thought to sneak into Trow's classroom to review some dueling tape for the week
ahead, but thought better of it. Climbing through the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room, Harry
was so lost in thought that he didn't notice the dark-haired, blue-eyed girl sitting on one of
the plush, leather couches.

“Harry.”

Her voice carried though it was barely louder than the crackle of the fire. Harry turned
abruptly, finding the source of the voice and sighed in relief when he saw Tracey.

“Scared me there,” he said as he approached her. “Why are you awake so late?”

She looked down, wringing her wrists through her over sized sweater. She was dressed in flannel
pants and a large, green Slytherin sweater and looked every bit the innocent girl she sometimes
portrayed. Looking up at him, Tracey had an expression on her face that was a mix of apprehension
and reluctance. Yet, it also contained a bit of anger and something else that Harry couldn't
quite recognize.

“Where were you tonight?”

“Trow's classroom,” Harry easily lied, going with the easiest answer.

Tracey nodded, her curly mop of black hair bobbing up and down as she cast her head downwards
again. She mumbled something underneath her breath that Harry didn't catch.

“What was that?” he asked.

Tracey sat up, drawing a shaky breath as she met his eyes.

“I said that I know you weren't there.”

The hammering in his heart started and he had the sudden urge to perform the *Legilimens*
spell on her to cut through all of the red tape. His mouth was suddenly dry and he licked his lips,
his calm visage all of a sudden faltering.

“I was there, just studying my duel against the Ravenclaws.”

“You weren't there.” If possible, her voice grew smaller. “I know because I followed you
tonight. I know because you were disappearing at suspicious times in the night and Blaise dismissed
it as you being you. I know because I followed you the last time too.”

The air seemed to exit his lungs, clawing its way out as his eyes grew blurry for a second. His
brain hadn't even comprehended her words yet and his mouth hung open as he scrambled to draw up
a lie. She looked up at him and Harry was surprised to find the beginnings of tears in her
eyes.

“Harry, what are you doing in that room with Granger?”

* * * * * * *

**A/N: Glad to beat my estimate again. Hopefully I can keep up this pace as I'm very
excited for the chapters ahead. Thank you all for the kind reviews and the encouragement to keep
writing. I hope to really go through with this story and write all the parts to it. Leave a
question or a review and thank you.**

**Estimated update time: 19 days**
 Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7
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16. Harry In The Middle
-----------------------



The night was filled with little silences, pockets of nothingness where sound bounced off
seemingly invisible barriers. In the highest tower, the Ravenclaws plotted. Behind a painting, the
Gryffindors lay content. In a basement, the Hufflepuffs seethed. In an ignoble tower, a former
Death Eater spun the wheels of the machine. In the dungeons, two Slytherins were caught in a
web.

“Tracey, I'm not *doing* anything,” Harry protested weekly.

*Should I tell her? I have to tell her. I can't lie to her*. Harry was paralyzed with
indecision, unable to process his thoughts the way Granger could. He wasn't prepared for this
confrontation. He wasn't prepared to explain to Tracey why he had been disappearing every
night. Instead, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. Later on, when he was older and
far wiser, he would learn not to do such things with women.

“Why were you following me?”

Tracey rose up, her blue eyes propelling herself forward. So aggressive was her stance that
Harry unconsciously shrunk back a step, immediately regretting his decision to question her.

“You were disappearing in the middle of the night,” she hissed, “You wouldn't come back for
hours at a time. No one knew where you were and I checked Trow's classroom a couple times and
he said that you hadn't been there the *whole night*! I'm not an idiot, Harry. I
thought I'd give you the benefit of the doubt. I thought maybe it was...something with
Snape...or something secret you didn't want me to know. But I *had* to know. I didn't
want to follow you, but you left me no choice!”

Harry clenched his jaw, torn with the realization that she was correct but also trying to find
justice in his own actions. “Tracey, I have a good reason for this.”

“Then what is it, Harry?!” Tracey's voice rose so it became a shrill high pitched note in an
otherwise empty room.

His hand darted out to grab her own. So unexpected was the sudden movement that Tracey flinched
in response, but Harry was left with no choice. Placing a finger to his lips, Harry mimed a quiet
motion as he perked his ears to listen for any potential eavesdroppers. After a tense minute, Harry
relaxed his grip, assessing the grim and astonished expression on Tracey's face.

“It's complicated. I'd appreciate it if you were a bit more discrete about this.”

“It depends on what it is,” she stubbornly replied.

*I have to tell her*. She was one of his first friends. She was a steady supporter of his
even when others didn't believe him. She never flinched at his side and never disobeyed his
orders in Battle class. Tracey was loyal, but not even she could accept the depths of this
potential treachery. It wasn't just that it was a Gryffindor. This was Granger, a girl that
Tracey had already slighted and exchanged a few words with. Not telling her would be akin to
placing his deal with Granger over their friendship.

Sighing, Harry led her to the corner of the room and wished he had some sort of spell to muffle
the air around him. Reminding himself to take a look in the library for such a thing, Harry spoke
lowly, leaning in very closely as he was still wary of any stray ears.

“There's this -”

Harry tried to speak but something caught in his throat. He tried again, but it was if his vocal
chords wouldn't touch each other and nothing came out but a blank emptiness.

“What?” Tracey leaned forward with the hushed question.

“We're studying in this -”

The words, the words were like sand funneled down his throat, drowning him and preventing any
sort of communication. He must've been quite a sight, mouth gaping like a Squib as he tried to
explain the cave to Tracey and why they were meeting in there. It was only after a few gasps of air
that he remembered the blasted contract Granger made him sign when he was first introduced to the
cave.

“Are you having a laugh at me?” Tracey's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“No!” Harry exclaimed, reaching his hands out to take one of hers in both of his. “I'm
trying to explain it, but I think...I think Granger did something.”

Tracey's automatic defensiveness kicked in as her blue eyes grew icy and her hand squeezed
his. “What did that little bint do?”

“It's nothing like that -” Harry found himself in the awkward position of defending Granger
from his own accusation, “-I just have to figure something out first.”

Harry could only imagine Tracey's confusion, finding her best friend sneaking around at late
hours of the night with a rival House. Seeking to comfort her, Harry squeezed her hand again,
trying to distract her from further anger.

“I have to figure something out with her first, but after that, I promise. I *promise* that
I'll tell you, Tracey.” Harry did his best to put on his most earnest voice, pleading with his
best friend.

She looked none too happy to have the answer delayed after so much investigative work but she
nodded slowly, her curly black hair flickering against the back drop of the orange glow of the
fire. Harry sighed in relief but had one more request to ask of her.

“You can't tell anyone yet. Not even Blaise,” Harry hurriedly added.

To his surprise, she assented quicker this time. “I haven't told him yet. Didn't want
him to think I was crazy for following you.”

“Guess you had good reason.”

Tracey looked up at him, her hand slowly slipping through his fingers. Her face was blank, a
circular nothingness that was normally full of emotion. In that moment, she reminded him of her
father.

“Guess I did.”

* * * * *

Harry had to wait the whole day, furtively trying to find a way to isolate Granger, but she was
uncharacteristically busy and surrounded today. Furthermore, he was frustrated and annoyed that he
didn't read the fine print when he signed the contract. He assumed it would be binding, but the
exact wording would have proved useful especially in the situation he found himself in now. It
wasn't until after supper that he finally cornered her moderately alone in Trow's
classroom, peering into one of the Stationary Omnioculars. Only Trow was in the classroom, but when
he stepped out for a minute, Harry took his chance.

Quickly walking over to her, Harry purposefully sat down with a large clatter, but she
didn't even look up.

“I'm sorry, I'm a bit busy right now.”

Harry pinched his brow. “Granger, I need to talk to you.”

“We can talk *later*,” she emphasized.

“No we can't,” Harry hissed back.

“Tracey knows about us.”

*That* got her attention. Her head snapped up, the bushy, tangled mess flying back like a
furry bear. Her eyes gave the class one easy scan, assessing any other potential listeners, but
they were alone. At once, she turned to him and Harry wondered to himself if girls practiced that
seething look in the mirror.

“How much does she know?” Her voice was hushed but urgent, containing not an insignificant
tremor.

“Nothing obviously. The stupid contract you made me sign shut me up from saying anything.”

“*Anything*? Anything is a lot of things. Anything doesn't cover everything in the
contract. Harry, this is really important. What does she know?”

“I told you already, she knows nothing!”

“Does she know that we're studying Occlumency? Does she know *that*?” Granger was
leaning forward with a terrified look in her eyes.

Harry leaned back, slightly befuddled. “No. Granger, listen to me, she doesn't know
anything. I tried to tell her about the cave but then I couldn't say anything. Whatever curse
was on that contract worked.”

She quieted, the sudden storm abated as her mind spun into overdrive. Harry let her think,
knowing this was her preferred method of quiet. She was almost obsessive in this quiet moment,
diagramming the various responses and potential reactions in her head.

“Well obviously you can't tell her,” she concluded.

Harry was afraid she would be this obtuse about it. “I have to tell her. What else am I going to
say? She saw us coming out together from the wall.”

Granger slapped her hand to her face, running it down to her chin as she expressed the universal
face of *bloody hell*.

“You mean to tell me that she was following you around? What kind of friends do you have,
Harry?”

“The kind of friends that know I've been disappearing for nights on end without a word to
anyone. Does anyone worry about you?” Harry snapped back.

The mask slipped over Granger's face again, the arrogant coldness that had some dubbing her
as the Mudblood Champion. Harry instantly knew he had insulted her, but honestly, he didn't
regret it. He was tired of her power plays.

“This cave is important, *Potter*. No one else knows about it and it's obviously quite
hidden away from the rest of the school. Not to mention the work we're doing down there. Are
you going to tell her everything?”

Harry, for once, was prepared to answer this question with some confidence. “I won't tell
her specifically what we're doing, but I will tell her that we're working on things that
are helping us improve in Battle class.”

“And how are you going to explain me?”

“What do you mean?”

Granger sighed and rolled her eyes, pointing between them. “Us. How are you going to explain
us?”

Harry shrugged. “Just that you're smart obviously and...and...it's good to learn how the
enemy thinks?”

Granger snorted, looking towards the front door to make sure Trow hadn't returned. “If she
believes that, she's dumber than she looks.”

“Tracey's not dumb,” Harry said reflexively.

“If you wish. So no mention of the cave, Occlumency, or the spell?”

“That's right.”

Granger thought for a moment, her eyes cast upwards as she measured the potential risks involved
with including Tracey in the knowledge of the cave. Harry knew she had limited options and the
irritation written across her face didn't quell his anger. He knew it was his fault really. He
knew that he should have read the stupid contract before signing it, but he didn't think
Granger would stoop to this level.

“You can tell her that we're studying things to help with Battle class. You can't make
any mention of the cave and you definitely can't mention the Occlumency.” Granger said it
slowly, enunciating every word to make sure he understood her parameters.

“And if she asks for more?”

Granger looked at him sideways, the passive mask sitting tightly around her face.

“You won't be able to.”

* * * * *

Harry explained everything as best he could after Granger instructed him to wait an hour after
she left and he was relieved that his voice finally worked. Editing the story so that he met
Granger one night going through the false wall, Harry relayed as best he could that they were
trying things to help each other in Battle class.

“Things that you can't study in hidden rooms behind magic walls that nobody can find?”
Tracey asked evenly.

“When you put it that way, it is a bit cloak and dagger, but look at what you thought,” Harry
pointed out.

Tracey shook her head, the ringlets falling around her face. “I still don't like it, Harry.
I don't like *her*.”

Carefully parsing his words, Harry half-heartedly agreed. “She's still a bit insufferable,
but even you can't deny she's practically a walking encyclopedia.”

“Encyclopedias that talk probably,” Tracey muttered darkly. “She's probably told all of
Gryffindor about your meetings.”

Harry shook his head in negation. “She hasn't.”

“You seem mighty confident of that.”

“I just know she hasn't.”

There was a pause as they sat in the corner of the library late at night, the best place they
could find as the Common Room was busy with studying and lingering students. Harry chose a table
with open pathways to ensure there weren't any curious students hiding behind bookcases. Merlin
knows what would happen if even more people found out about his arrangement with Granger.

Tracey leaned forward, resting her head on her hands as she sighed loudly. Harry kept his mouth
shut, hoping this information was enough to call of her nightly searches. He still hadn't
decided what he would do about future meetings with Granger, but he would cross that bridge when
the time came. For now, he was solely focused in making sure Tracey believed him.

“One more time,” Tracey grumbled, “You're studying whatever it is that's making you
better in Battle class with Granger and you just can't tell me about it.”

There was a pleading in her voice, a desperate begging that would confirm that was all it was
and truly, Harry believed that was what they were doing. Yet, a lingering snake burrowed into his
mind as easily as one of Granger's *Legilimens* spells. It was a nagging, reminding him of
the rather intimate moment they shared as he opened up about his scars.

“Yes,” Harry answered. “That's all it is.”

The swirling snow whipped across the back windows, smacking against them with an icy sharpness.
The only sounds in the library were the swish of pages turned and the scrapes of wooden legs
against the floor, but Tracey's breathing seemed to be magnified. There was nothing Harry could
do but wait for her reply and it was maddening.

“So take me with you,” Tracey finally said.

Prepared, Harry shook his head. “I can't. Only Granger knows the way in. She's a bit
paranoid.”

Tracey looked at him incredulously, the moonlight shining through the flakes of snow attached to
the window and bathing her in a dull white glow. Harry flinched internally, but kept a cool visage,
trying desperately to maintain some semblance of control. He felt guilty and ashamed, yet upturned
and stubborn. If she only knew the progress he and Granger had achieved in such a short amount of
time. Yet, she couldn't know for if she knew, that would betray Granger's trust as well.
Not to mention the fact that she had magically binded him regardless.

“You're just having a laugh at me, aren't you? Harry, this is ridiculous! I'm your
friend, if you've somehow forgotten that during your meetings with that stupid Gryffindor.
Regardless of what you think you're trying to hide or whatever you're trying to protect
Granger from, I think...I think I deserve to know what you're doing! At the very least, you
could help me.”

Her words bounced off him like a spell against a *Protego* shield. If anything, he grew
more frustrated with her pursuit of answers. He blamed both of them, Granger and Tracey both, for
putting him in this bind. Granger for magically binding him with some sort of magical contract he
couldn't touch and Tracey for her damned curiousity. Some things were better left alone and
untouched, but this ethereal dream was now shattered. The cave could no longer live
anonymously.

Then again, Granger never did make a stipulation to physically bringing Tracey with him. He
couldn't speak the words, but what would stop him from actively bringing Tracey along during
their next meeting? There was little else he could do now that Tracey knew and a small part of him,
the one that wasn't frustrated at her for blowing the whole plot up, felt that he owed his
longest friend a smidgen more of explanation.

“Alright,” Harry sighed in defeat. “This is how it has to happen.”

* * * * * *

*Cave. 10.*

The inscription was emblazoned upon Granger's special Sickle and Harry sat in the lavatory
for approximately three minutes starting at it, knowing the implications. The silliness of it all
was that he wanted nothing than for them to get along, but he doubted that either would forget the
other's less that civil exchanges. Granger had predictably harped on Tracey's perceived
lack of intelligence, though rather unfairly since almost everyone came short in that regard
compared to her, while Tracey shattered through the fake mask of indifference Granger usually
wore.

He wished there was someone he could turn to for advice, but Blaise had to be kept out of the
loop for now, despite the fact that Harry knew it was only a matter of time before Tracey pressed
to include him as well. Doubting that Professor Trow held some nugget of divine knowledge, Harry
got off the pan and went to find his Slytherin counterpart to inform her of the time of their
meeting.

The nervousness only wore on as the night grew long, Tracey impatiently bouncing her knee as she
stared furtively at the entrance door to the Common Room. They both made excuses to Blaise about
homework and knew that the third wheel could care less on the status of such things. So easy was
their exit that Harry made sure to double back twice to ensure they weren't being followed.
When Tracey asked why he would do such a thing, he simply pointedly looked at her until she
understood the meaning.

The alcove suited them just fine, but it was a tight space. Their shoulders were touching
against the walls and against each others as they waited for Granger to appear. By now, Harry knew
that the patrols rarely came around at this hour in the dungeons. For one, it was cold and dank
even in the winter. All the meters of snow melted and seeped through the soil, causing a hazed
fogginess to emit through the crevices. That alone was enough to potentially scare any less than
perfunctory Prefects. The teachers had other things to worry about than students slinking in the
subterranean.

Granger emerged like a shadow out of blackness, quietly walking along with an air of assured
confidence from several repetitions. Out of amusement, Harry wished that he could have captured her
face on camera as Tracey emerged with him from the alcoves. Oh, what a priceless shot it would have
been.

“Potter, what is she doing here?” Granger overtly dismissed Tracey, more annoyance than fear in
her voice.

“I've brought her with me. Figured she can learn too.” Harry tried hard not to sound so
tepid despite the way he felt and attempted appealing to her academic nature.

Tracey stepped up, as bold and brash as any Gryffindor. “Harry's told me everything -”

“Has he now?” Granger raised an eyebrow, her expression wrought with amusement.

Tracey's eyes fluttered back and forth between them in a brief moment of hesitation before
pushing on. “-he's told me that you've been studying things. I want to learn them too.”

Harry could sense the smarmy retort even before Granger opened her mouth and jumped in to
intervene. “A moment, Granger?”

She looked surprise that he would request such an aside and judging by Tracey's stiffness,
the Slytherin girl looked none too pleased at the prospect of being excluded from the conversation.
Granger nodded, her eyes never leaving Tracey's.

Stepping a few paces from Tracey, Harry leaned in towards Granger and said in a quiet whisper,
“I don't really have much of a choice here.”

“A choice, really? It wouldn't have been that hard. Telling her to leave off with it would
have been pretty simple.”

“It's not that easy.”

“It's not *supposed* to be easy.” Her mask slipped as impatience got the best of her.
“You think it's easy hiding this from the rest of the Gryffindors? You think it's easy
hiding this from Neville? He's been one of the only people that's stuck by me through all
of this shite and I haven't told him a thing, but the second Davis finds out, you cave like
-”

“-Longbottom during a duel,” Harry finished coldly. “Maybe it would help if you brought a couple
of other people in.”

She stared at him, partial shock registering across her pretty features.
“That's...that's not it at all!”

“Come off it, Granger. You mean to tell me that you would've just been studying all of this
even if I weren't around?”

Her face turned red, an uneasy shakiness coming about her. “The bloody arrogance of you! You
think you know everything when the reality is that you don't even know the tip of the iceberg
when it comes to all of -”

“Are you two done?”

Tracey interrupted them with a petulant cross of her arms and a tapping of one foot. It
didn't take a Granger-like genius to realize that the Gryffindor girl was in the fit of a
ranting rampage and Harry knew that Tracey's interruption was partially for his benefit.

“Is she in or not?” Harry quickly asked.

Granger glared at him murderously, emotions melting across her eyes before she achieved the
blank state of mind associated with a healthy control of Occlumency. The mask slipped back on her
face, but Harry could still detect the stormy interior.

“It's too late to go back now.”

* * * * * *

The tenuous relationship held for about a week without any massive arguments. It annoyed both
Harry and Grange to start at square one when it came to Occlumency. Predictably, Tracey didn't
pick up on it as easily as the other two and Harry thought that Granger was bringing a little more
zest to her Legilimency attacks than necessary. Still, he wasn't one to question her teaching
methods and for Tracey's part, the Slytherin girl never complained.

Still, tensions grew as Tracey failed to repel even a simpler attack by Harry. For one, it was
difficult for him to sift through her memories. More difficult than it was slicing through
Granger's. He flinched whenever he saw an argument from her father or a chastising from her
mother. The feeling of loneliness was evident through several different memories he had captured
and his attacks grew more feeble as time went on. Even then, she struggled to clear her mind or
come up with mental defenses like Harry.

“Come on, Davis!” Granger finally snapped after the other girl failed to clear her mind yet
again. “Clear your mind!”

“Don't you think I'm bloody trying.” Tracey tried to snap at her but judging by her weak
pallor, it was tiring her out to do just that.

Granger shook her head in disgust as she pushed away from the desk, walking over to the water at
the end of the cave. Harry let Tracey rest for a moment before standing up and handing her a piece
of chocolate he nicked from dinner.

“You just have to concentrate,” he offered.

“I'm not as good as this as you...or *her*.” A bit of venom returned as she shot a
contemptuous look at Granger's back.

“You'll get it. You just have to turn the corner,” Harry assured, but internally, he had his
doubts. He never pegged Tracey to be one of the more powerful duelists, that much he knew, but even
her learning curve was surprisingly steep. Was Occlumency that hard for her or were he and Granger
just *that* good at it?

Granger was still at the small pond, angrily throwing pebbles into it. Tracey glared at the back
of the other girl for a moment before looking up, examining the transparent ceiling. Harry stared
up with her, basking in the depth of the lake.

“It's quite a sight,” Harry breathed.

Tracey was silent for a moment, her blue eyes peering upwards at the vast expanse. Sighing, she
lowered her head and said, “She's good, isn't she? Smart. Good at dueling.”

“She's had a lot of practice,” Harry pointed out.

“That's not just it. Good of you to defend her though,” Tracey said with a tinge of
sadness.

Harry shook his head. “Listen, you'll get it okay?”

Tracey nodded though she didn't look any bit more confident. “Can I call it a night? I can
find my way back while you two do...whatever you do.” She wrinkled her nose at that but continued
on, “Besides, even Blaise will catch on after a while.”

Harry laughed a little bit at that, glad Tracey still found the room for good spirits despite
the relentless training on their hands. She quietly bid Harry farewell, not bothering to say
good-bye to the Gryffindor girl. As she left, Harry sighed, seeing there was no love lost between
them.

“Why do you insist with her?” Granger immediately asked as soon as Tracey left.

“Why do you on insist with Longbottom? At least Tracey's competent. Longbottom's a
hopeless case.”

“Not all things can be measured in how good you are in Battle class.”

“Really? I thought this was the point of all this,” Harry said.

“The *point* of all this was to learn things far above our level. To realize that we're
abnormalities, Harry. Surely you can see that too.”

“I don't think we're abnormal.” Harry air quoted the word. “We're just better at
this than a lot of people. Besides, there's still some other kids in other Houses that are
challenging.”

“Harry.” Granger crossed her arms, a motion she usually made before delving into a lecture. “I
saw the duel with you and the three Ravenclaws. Mandy's their best duelist and she couldn't
even touch you. If it weren't for the fact that Snape surprised you with a third person, you
would have dispatched them without any fanfare.”

“They'll catch up. They always do.” Harry flippantly waved it off.

“But not this time. They don't know what you're doing; they don't know what
we're doing. That is, if Tracey keeps quiet.”

“Tracey won't say a thing.”

“You mean she won't go telling Blaise about this? You think she's going to appreciate
that she's not as good as us?”

Harry shifted uncomfortably, the question weighing heavily on him. He didn't like the way
Granger spoke with such unbinding truth, the easiness in which she objectively dissected
situations. It unnerved him, especially coming from a house in which secrecy and deceit were as
commonplace as speaking.

“You'll just have to trust me,” Harry responded quietly.

Granger arched an eyebrow, making it clear what she thought of that request. She picked up her
bag, a signal that this particularly frustrating night was over. Harry followed her outside the
dark tunnel, exiting the secret entrance of the cave. They walked silently, each lost in their own
thoughts before they reached the split that would mark their departure from one another.

She left without a word and Harry had to shake off that grumpy feeling as he realized she was
discontent. Hopefully it was directed at Tracey and not at him, but the rational part of his mind
couldn't release that nagging voice in his head that was quickly resembling Granger.
*She's not as good as us*...

And then he heard it.

His Occlumency was his saving grace this time, a constant passive presence that kept a part of
his mind cleared away. It was either that or his highly tuned magical contact that made him side
step the *Stupefy*. He whirled around, not producing his shield as to keep his reserves in
store. There was a shadow at the end of the hall, standing at the bend between the Hufflepuff and
Slytherin partition between the basement and the cellar.

The shadow was already turning to run, plans foiled as Harry avoided the surprise attack. The
attacker was at some distance and must have been waiting for quite some time for him. He quietly
tucked the fact into a corner of his mind and let loose the one spell that would gain him the
necessary information.

“*Legilimens.”*

He had to speak it at a normal tone, not trusting his wordless magic to carry the spell that
far. Fortunately, it didn't require a beam or strike that would take time to travel. The spell
was near instantaneous and Harry doubted that the attacker would realize what was happening.

There was only one memory he could grasp, but it was enough. There was a fiery hearth with
golden-red carpets and matching furniture. There was a portrait with a fat lady and a staircase
that lead towards the dormitories. The feelings of comfort and warmth were radiating throughout his
thoughts as Harry stretched the memory as far as he could. A mirror suddenly arose and one flash of
red hair confirmed his suspicions.

The attacker might have gotten away and Harry had no way of knowing for sure that he knew the
spell, but for once he saw a silver lining. After months of fruitless searches and a rather dormant
group, a silly and poorly aimed spell was their undoing. There were four bullies and while Harry
already knew one, he could identify the second just by the vividness of his hair.

Ron Weasley.

* * * * * *

“How are you feeling?”

“As well as expected. More lives sacrificed to take out another Horcrux.”

“And then there were two.”

“Three if you would believe some people.”

“I'm confident that it's two, but let us move on.”

“Am I correct in assuming their thoughts are completely closed off now?”

“For the most part. I can still ascertain a few reads from the Muggleborn but the boy is totally
gone. Any instance of intrusion is met with a surprising veracity. His Occlumency is far different
than anything I've ever encountered.”

“Talented.”

“And at the cusp of something great. I suspect we will see some of his true ability at the end
of this year.”

“And the preparations are finished for the end of the semester?”

“It is almost complete, as are the plans against him. There are a few matters he has to deal
with in order to complete his other objectives.”

“Ah yes - the matter of the four. I thought we abandoned that plan.”

“*You* abandoned it. I still feel there is something for him to learn. I thought the
Slytherins would have robbed the mercy of him, but he still holds on to it. He didn't deliver
the request punishment to the Hufflepuff boy and instead offered to help him. He constraints
against the Hufflepuffs again. He's missing it...”

“Not all of us are so easy when it comes to delivering the final blow.”

“That's not a luxury he can particularly afford.”

“The time will come when he is ready. He is young still. We have time.”

“Not as much as you think. The Dark Lord has surely known about the destruction of his
Horcruxes. We have risked luring him out of his den and I fear we will succeed in that regard.”

“A snake is not so easily trapped. He will take his time, this I am sure of.”

“Time is not just his constraint as well. Come, it is time for the wolf to hunt again.”

* * * * * *

**A/N: Thank you all for the outpouring of reviews. It's great to know that so many of you
are enjoying the storyline and the characters especially. I'm sticking to my word that the
Third Year will last less than a dozen chapters more. Until then, enjoy - read - and
review.**

**Estimated update time: 14 days**
 Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7
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17. Light and Dark
------------------



Tucked into one four-poster bed, three teenagers sat on different corners as the rest of the
school engaged in lunch. Most other students remained in the Great Hall for the affair, but these
three Slytherins grabbed a few bites, just an apple and some bread, in order to obtain some privacy
for more sensitive matters.

“Always figured it'd end up being Weasley. That pompous prick has had a jealousy boner for
you ever since you stepped foot here,” Blaise scoffed.

“What can you expect out of Gryffindors?” Tracey looked directly at Harry, not doing anything so
conspicuous as raising an eyebrow or offering any suggestion, but he received the message just the
same.

“The House doesn't matter. We have a Hufflepuff and a Gryffindor. Don't you find that
odd?” Harry parried Tracey's question with one of his own.

“Jealous, the whole lot of them,” Blaise emphasized. “Look at both of them. Little shits
who've never been good enough to defeat you and definitely not smart enough to figure out a
way.”

Harry thought of Justin's improvement among the rooftops during their encounter in Battle
class but kept that detail to himself.

“It still bothers me. Justin and Ron working together along with two other people we've yet
figured out? Why wait so long? It was months since their first attack on me and then Weasley's
attack now. There's no...reason for it,” Harry muttered.

“Sod all reason, Harry! They attacked you if you've forgotten. We can't just let that
pass,” Tracey said.

Harry waved her off, shifting on the bed so he could bite into his apple without spilling the
juices all over his lap. “We'll take some time first. I have a source in Gryffindor that could
be of help.”

“A source in Gryffindor? What witchery is this?” Blaise expressed surprise.

“Is that source trustworthy?” Tracey feigned innocence.

They were walking a dangerous tightrope. Every mention of anything Gryffindor from Tracey could
have been a prerequisite to revealing the cave and his subsequent arrangement with Granger. He
didn't quite know the extent of which Tracey would hold on to this secret. Furthermore, there
was nothing he could do to stop her. He hoped it wasn't true, but in his heart's heart, it
was only a matter of time for her.

“As trustworthy as sources can possibly be.”

* * * * *

However trustworthy Granger might have been, he knew it would be no easy to task make her turn
on her own House. The status of the relationship between Granger and Weasley was unknown to him,
but it would have been tough for Harry to turn on even Malfoy at the request of another House. He
could only imagine the enormity of the task before him if Malfoy of all people was to be the person
of comparison.

For that reason, Harry thought it was best if Tracey not be present for this meeting as well.
She was understandably upset, though at least clear enough to see reasoning behind his actions. It
was one thing for Harry to probe her with questions of Weasley, it was another for Tracey to
antagonize her to the point of inevitable decline.

Customary to their arrangement, Harry patiently waited for Granger to show up at the wall that
would magically part, much like the entrance to Diagon Alley. Granger appeared five minutes early
per usual and signaled for him to emerge from the nearby alcove. Harry nodded at her and didn't
speak as they entered the cave yet again.

They sat down, across from each other as the blue shades of the lake above them cast a dim glow
over the cave. Fishes and Merpeople swum above and once or twice, a Mermaid would peer down at
them, giving them a curious look with their drawn back faces and fins.

“I thought we could work on your spell tonight. I figured we'd wait for Occlumency until
Davis came back to these lessons. She's still coming back, right?” She phrased it
condescendingly, not bothering to hide her contempt.

“She is. She's just taking a break for a little bit,” Harry quickly lied.

Granger rolled her eyes. “Don't see the point in that. She's never going to learn if she
puts this off. We've already lagged behind schedule trying to make her catch up.”

“She's trying, alright?”

“*Trying*,” Granger muttered. “Anyways, I've got a couple of different things to try
for tonight. I was looking at a few different studies and a common trend I noticed was that most of
them discovered the spells they were pursuing when they weren't *actively* thinking about
it. It's sort of that theory that the unconscious mind has untapped potential. Your particular
spell is a bit more complex, but I thought we'd try a few exercises that might help in that
regard.”

“What do you have mind?” Harry asked, patiently waiting for a opening where he could ask
something about Weasley without overtly tipping his hand.

“It's a bit like Occlumency, but none of the actual spells. Come here,” she ordered.

Granger stood up and walked over to the edge of the small pond near the rear of the cave.
Curiously, Harry followed her until she sat down right beside it, crossing her legs and smoothing
her skirt over her knees. Motioning for Harry to sit across from her, Granger waited patiently as
he pretzeled his legs until they were both sitting cross legged by the water.

“Now, I want you to close your eyes,” she instructed.

As Harry closed his eyes, he sarcastically said, “And I suppose you want me to clear my mind as
well.”

“I actually wasn't going to. I know you can't do it.”

“How reassuring of you.”

With his eyes closed, Harry was acutely aware of the water splashing against the rocks and the
*drip, drip* of a single drop of water splashing against a surface somewhere in the cave. He
could hear the beating of his heart and smell the earthiness of the mud and stone mixed within the
atrium. Last of all, he could smell Granger's light perfume and hear her even breathing.

“I want you to concentrate on a spell. Pick the first spell that comes to your mind.”

It might have just been his imagination, but her voice sounded more soothing than normal as if
she were trying to persuade him. Ironically, the first spell that came into his mind was
*Lumos*. For some reason, he associated that spell with the spell he was trying to create.

“Got one,” he said.

“I want you think about it. I want you to think about how you use that spell. Concentrate on
creating the spell in your without a wand.”

“Wandless magic?” Harry asked with a smirk.

“No, don't concentrate on that. Just focus on the spell in your head like you have a wand in
your hand.”

Usually, Harry would just say *Lumos* and that would be the end of it, but for
Granger's sake, he tried to organize the steps he would take. Yes, he would say *Lumos*,
but there was something...else. It wasn't something he consciously thought, but there was an
underlying focus on creating a light. Yet, it wasn't an intention to create light. It was more
a realization that the light came naturally from his magic. Did his magic *produce* the
light?

“Open your eyes, Harry.”

He did and for the briefest of moments, there was nothing but a glowing light hovering in front
of them. The rest of the light that came from the torches and the glow of the moon evaporated or
was centered around this ball of light that hung in between them. The light glow was bluish and in
that split second, he could see Granger's astonished face.

Then the ball of light disappeared and as if there was a light switch in the cave, the torches
and light of the moon came back to life.

“What was that?” Harry quickly asked, wanting to see that magical light again.

“Wandless magic I suspect,” Hermione's voice held a breathless quality about it. “Rather
*strong* wandless magic too. I want to...let me see if I can do it.”

So they repeated the process, Granger closing her eyes as she focused on the *Lumos* spell
too. Harry held his breath as soon as her eyes were closed, looking around as the lights grew
dimmer. His heart beat in excitement, the prospects of wandless magic exhilarating him. Yet, there
was no hovering ball of light. The torches certainly dimmed and there was a certain glow around
Granger, but it wasn't the same and when she opened her eyes, it was the first time he
registered acute disappointment in her expression.

“Try again?” Harry hopefully asked.

Granger shook her head in disappointment, rubbing her cheek thoughtfully. “No. You seem to have
a better of grasp of this from the onset. Do you understand what you did though?”

When Harry shook his head, she launched into her professorial dictation.

“You certainly do have the ability to channel magic unconsciously. Judging by how you took all
the light from everywhere else, it's a little uncontrolled but it's certainly there. The
focus and concentration of it...”

“I think you might be telling me I did a good job,” Harry teased with a smile.

She glared at him, still intimidating though they were both sitting down at equal height. “You
missed the part about *uncontrolled*. If you could focus it...that would be something to look
at. Either way, it shows that there has to be a way to unlock your knowing of this spell you want
to make.”

“Can I try it? Try this method to create the spell?” Harry asked.

She nodded though a bit hesitant. “I don't see why not. Considering your spell though, could
you make an effort not to concentrate it on me?”

Harry chuckled and closed his eyes, focusing on the spell he wanted to create. Instantly, he
recognized the difference between this unfound spell and a simple *Lumos*. The *Lumos*
came instinctively, almost without recognition of thought. This new spell was harder to understand
and even more difficult to think about. He didn't even need to open his eyes to know that it
didn't work.

“Nothing, huh?” Harry asked as he looked up.

“Unfortunately not.”

Harry uncurled his legs, working out the cramps as he did so. “Figured it wouldn't work. I
knew it as soon as I started thinking about the spell.”

“Unconscious mind,” Granger muttered. “Maybe I can look up a couple things in the library about
the researches who successfully created new spells. A couple of them attended Hogwarts. Some
insights on how they did it would be valuable...”

She closed her eyes, murmuring to herself and allowing Harry a brief moment of unabashed
inspection. The bags under her eyes were noticeable, so much so that it was starting to wear into
her appearance. Granger had never been particularly skinny, more average than anything, but the
definition of her cheekbones were far more prominent than before the winter solstice. It was in her
neck, pulled tight against her throat, that Harry could see the extent of her weight loss.

Apart from that, she was the same as always. Make up was almost minimally applied though he knew
it was there. Tracey once told him that all girls wore make up, it was just a matter of what they
wanted to draw attention to. Her hair was an unconfined mess that even Harry occasionally cringed
at when it was a particularly bad day for her and her clothes were loose and baggy, her robes
almost swallowing her whole.

It was difficult in the dark and in between sessions of tense Occlumency and fruitless endeavors
to create a spell, but Harry finally noticed her rather haggard appearance.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Her eyes snapped open, the chocolate brown marred with flecks of blue from the reflection of the
water. There was a small window into her soul as fear and sadness flicked across her eyes but the
mask slipped on imperceptibly as she nodded docilely in response.

“Fine, Harry. Just frustrated with this spell. I think I need to do more research. Perhaps a
different vector of attacking this problem.”

It struck Harry how nonchalantly she played it off and an even bigger question arose in his
mind. Had she talked to anyone about the death of her parents? Surely, she must have spoken to
Longbottom. Whenever he saw the Gryffindors in class or in the hallways, those two were always
paired together. She had made more than one passing remark about Longbottom's steadfast
friendship and he had even seen her protectiveness of him during Battle class. Yet, he was curious.
Unfortunately, other problems had to be prioritized.

“Can I ask you something, Granger?”

“Yeah, but I don't have any more ideas for your spell right now,” she answered.

Harry shook his head. “It's not about that. It's about Weasley.”

“There's several,” she responded dryly.

“The one in your year. Ron.”

“Don't really think you need tips to beat him, Harry. He talks a lot, but that's
probably due to insecurities with his brothers more than anything else. You have the journal on
him.”

“It's not about that either. Has he....has he ever struck you as odd?”

“Oafish? Yes. Ignorant? Yes. Dense as a stone wall? Yes. He's a lot of things, Harry. What
do you mean by odd?” She counted off the descriptions one finger at a time.

“I don't know.” Harry didn't meet her eyes. “Violent?”

Granger snorted. “Hardly. As I said, he's all talk. The second it comes to backing it up, he
shrinks like a daisy out there. You've seen him.”

Harry had in fact seen him in duels. He wasn't the most talented of duelists, but he thought
Granger undersold him. Weasley was tenacious and consistent, but lacked the nous and skill to best
superior duelists. It was still unsettling to discover that Weasley wasn't anything like
Finch-Fletchley. Then again, no one thought Justin was the person he was either. Could it be that
both of his attackers were that adept at hiding their true selves? Somehow, Harry doubted that.

“Why so curious?” Granger asked.

“Nothing. He's been a bit of a tosser in the hallways.”

It wasn't actually a lie, but it was farther from the truth than Harry made it seem.

“Your friends don't really help,” she said.

Harry shrugged. “What are you going to do? It's Gryffindors and Slytherins after all.”

“Oh yes, group autonomy. Surely there'll be no harm in that.” Granger's expression was
one of deep sarcasm.

“Anyways, I have to look up a few things, but this is progress, Harry. There's a spell
somewhere in there.”

Yet, Harry wondered how much progress he was making at all.

* * * * * * *

Fortunately, Harry was presented with the prime opportunity to confront Weasley when next
attending Battle class. It was a session with Gryffindors and if Harry deduced correctly, it would
be a House match instead of individual duels. The rankings were closely contested though Slytherin
still far outranked the other three houses. At the end of the year, a larger competition was
usually brought about to determine the eventual contestant House against the other years.

Snape arrived precisely on time, a man of many machinations as Harry had learned throughout the
years. Yet, the headmaster looked a little worse for wear as he approached the magical entrance to
the Room of Requirement. His frown was deeply set, his eyes cold as it perched over his hook nosed.
Even the magical resonance surrounding him was irritated.

“Gryffindors first,” Snape hissed, not bothering with any pleasantries.

They lined up in order and Harry briefly caught Granger's eye. She was dressed in all gray
fitting robes, her hair tied into a tight bun, her youthful face marred by fatigue. Harry
didn't miss the competitive gleam in her eyes and the way her lips were set into a razor thin
line. He knew from personal Occlumency experience that she absolutely abhorred losing.

“Remember what we talked about,” Harry whispered to Blaise as he looked at the rangy
redhead.

Weasley hadn't so much as looked at him though the boy didn't appear nervous. Harry
would have thought that the freckled giant would have at least been apprehensive given their last
encounter, but then again, he hadn't shown any sign of nervousness up until now. The thought
that Weasley's attack on him was a random hit had occurred to Harry, but there were far too
many coincidences in this case.

“Gryffindor enter,” Snape commanded.

The line of gray uniforms entered the door as it appeared, the golden patch embroidered with a
lion standing as the only difference from Harry's own outfit. Snape waited a few moments, his
eyes closed in concentration before a separate door appeared out of its own accord. Stepping out of
the way with a flourish of his robes, Snape inclined them to enter.

Harry was the first one through the door and as the remaining light slowly diminished behind him
until Snape finally closed the entrance, he realized that the darkness was more than just a
momentary illusion. The darkness was real and it reminded him of the cave when he performed his
wandless spell.

“*Lumos*,” Harry breathed. The ball of light from the tip of his wand was fiercely bright
in the darkness. After a brief bout of momentary blindness, his eyes adjusted as he took in his
surroundings.

*It's a cave*.

Yet, it wasn't a cave. It was a tunnel, the walls thick with mud and clay. The similarities
were off putting for a moment and Harry looked to his left to see Tracey eying the walls with some
trepidation as well. She looked at him with the same expression.

*Are you thinking what I'm thinking?*

Harry subtly nodded but returned to focus on the task at hand. The light from his wand only
reached so far as there was a sharp turn ahead. The tunnel was large enough for two single columns
to walk through though they would be shoulder to shoulder as they did so. Snape obviously meant for
them to be uncomfortable. They had fought in close quarters before, but nothing like this
setting.

“Two columns straight through. Draco, lead the other one,” Harry ordered.

His command served two purposes. It kept Blaise and Tracey behind him as they were the only two
he trusted should he be taken out leading the column. It also stroked Draco's ego while
highlighting him as a likely loss should they encounter a surprise within the tunnels. The blond
followed suit, strutting forward arrogantly as he cast a *Lumos* with his own wand as
well.

“Follow my lead, Draco,” Harry cautioned.

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered. Draco could be petulant at times, but his grievances usually came to
a minimum while in Battle class.

They walked quietly, Harry and Draco side by side as they advanced through the first turn.
Immediately, Harry was uncomfortable in the tight confinement. The darkness and low roofs reminded
him too much of that cupboard under the stairs. Fighting to keep his breathing steady, Harry
marched on, acutely aware that any sort of resistance would result in a massive duel with nowhere
to dodge or deflect.

“If we're still in tunnels when we meet the Gryffindors, Draco and I will take the first
barrage with *Protego*'s. When there's a lull, we'll kneel down so the rest of you
can hit them with your spells. Rotate the back end so you don't get tired,” Harry ordered.

There were murmurs of agreement from the back, but they were packed in so tight that Harry
couldn't bother turning around. The soft breath behind his neck indicated that it was Tracey
who was behind him. Reaching backwards, Harry squeezed her hand for a moment, signaling that it was
okay. Truth be told, it was just as much for his selfish reasons. Every step he took made the walls
seem to come in a little closer.

As they proceeded down the mandatory tunnel, Harry discovered that it wasn't just his
imagination. The walls *were* getting smaller around them as the tunnel funneled down to the
point where the idea of two columns wasn't manageable anymore. Every single reason and instinct
told him that it was an intentional trap as he motioned for the Slytherins to stop behind him. The
muddy tunnel continued forward, narrowing as it did so into one opening.

“What are we waiting for?” The anxious voice of Pansy Parkinson floated from somewhere near the
back.

“Just wait,” Harry hissed, “and keep it down back there.”

Kneeling down, Harry remained utterly still, staring at the gaping hole where they were being
asked to follow. Momentarily closing his eyes, Harry tuned his other senses and felt the quick
draft blowing through the narrow entrance.

*An opening*.

At once, Harry realized Snape's intentions. The tunnel was psychological, a teaser to
heighten tensions and nerves. It was even working on Harry, the restricting confinements reminding
him of his time at Number Four. Yet, if Harry was correct, the narrow entrance would spill into a
larger atrium where they would duel against Gryffindor. There may be more obstacles yet ahead, but
Harry was confident their adversaries would be near.

Opening his eyes, Harry turned around, slowly shifting his body as to not touch the walls.

“Listen, I think the Gryffindors are going to be on the other side of this opening,” Harry told
them.

Draco looked at the shoulder width entrance and shook his head. “We're like bloody
Flobberworms going through that thing. They'll tear us a new one!”

Harry shook his head. “Snape won't give them that much of an advantage.”

“How do you what Snape's going to do? He's barking mad sometimes,” Pansy retorted.

“Trust me. I've gotten you this far,” Harry pointed out. “We've won every single House
match this year. I'm not going to stop now. The Gryffindors are on the other side of this
opening. I'll go first, but everyone has to fan out in both directions when come out of there.
It has to be quick so alternate the way you come out of the cave and randomize your direction. It
might be tight in there too, so be prepared.”

“How the bloody hell are we supposed to fight in tunnels?” Blaise grumbled.

“Speed counts, and so do your shields.” Inspired, Harry took the precious time to reorganize the
line.

Standing behind Crabbe and Goyle, Harry looked up at the idiots, who had to stoop against the
low ceiling.

“Remember, focus on *Protego* and getting us out of that entrance,” Harry firmly
commanded.

They were the perfect human shields, large and wide, providing plenty of natural coverage for
his more skilled duelists. Crabbe and Goyle would no doubt take the brunt of the spells should the
Gryffindors have some sort of leg up on them, but that was an acceptable loss. Neither of them were
going to top the Master List anytime soon.

“Are you ready?” Harry asked Crabbe.

Crabbe stiffly nodded, his head scratching against the top of the tunnel. They raised their
shields as they struggled through the slender opening and Harry's suspicions were confirmed as
soon as a bright spell splashed against their defense.

“Quickly now!” Harry raised his voice as the buzzing of spells grew louder as Crabbe and Goyle
struggled to *fit* through the opening.

Goyle, in particular, was having trouble fitting his shoulders through and came stuck. Crabbe
could only hold on for so long on his own, so Harry came up to Goyle and started pushing the hefty
boy.

“Draco, help!”

The Malfoy hesitated for a moment but leaped forwards and smashed into Goyle. The resulting
impact must have loosened the hold the tunnel had on Goyle's shoulders as fabric ripped and the
three of them collapsed in a heaping mess. A spell immediately whizzed by them and Harry turned
around to see who had been struck.

Tracey was directly behind them, but instead of being hit by the spell, it bounced off her
shield as she determinedly stepped over the bodies and fanned left, taking care to defend her body
well. A surge of pride ran through Harry as he got to his knees and veered right, hoping the rest
of his House would listen to his orders.

It was indeed a larger atrium. The ceilings sloped upwards in a dome that extended about fifty
feet at the apex. On the ground, though, were stone structures that formed arches and alleys. It
was a haphazard maze, jagged and snaking along in an unpredictable manner. The darkness remained
and all Harry could see were the bright colors and flashy impressions of spells flying through the
air.

Taking cover behind an archway, Harry observed the spells skewing upwards and downward with no
rhyme or reason. It occurred to him that perhaps the Gryffindors couldn't see where they were
aiming at as well. There were no obvious lights from any *Lumos* as Granger must have deduced
that the cover of darkness would be more advantageous than announcing your presence with a glowing
light at the end of your wand.

Blaise crashed next to him, his chest heaving and the whites of his eyes bright against his dark
skin. He was crawling along the ground, dirtying his gray uniform as well. Harry grabbed him by the
scruff of his collar as another spell crashed into the wall above his head, reigning debris down
upon him.

“Did everyone fan out?” Harry asked amidst the chaos.

“As best I could tell. We went left and right but honestly, I can't see shit, Harry,” Blaise
said.

Blaise was absolutely correct. Visibility was at a premium and Harry could see no much further
than a few feet in front of him. The only available light source was at the apex of the dome and it
was barely useful. He could hear voices around him but he had no way of telling whether or not they
were Slytherin or Gryffindor.

“Tracey!” Harry whispered loudly.

“What?” The disembodied voice sounded quite a distance away.

“How are you holding?”

“I'm hitting them back with spells.” Her blunt response bellied the difficulty of the
situation.

“*HOLD!”*

Harry could recognize Granger's feminine voice anywhere. The spells suddenly stopped, the
air filled with dust and magical residue from the brief flurry of activity. Harry took shallow
breathes, trying not to give himself away. His mind churned with strategic simulations as he tried
to assess the scenario as best he could.

Their major disadvantage was that Gryffindor seemed to have jumped out to an early lead in
regards to positioning. Positioning was key in House matches that were held in conditions such as
the present. Snape often created a variety of different settings that would challenge their
reactions in particular situations. Yet, they had fought in close quarters and earlier this year
and had fought in less than visible conditions.

Unfortunately, there was something sinister about darkness. The fog was just a mystery, a
question held in the air with a potential answer on the other side. The darkness, on the other
hand, only spelled trouble for those who lay wait on the opposite field. It was a paralytic and at
the moment, it was working. Harry and Blaise were pinned against an archway with no visible idea of
where the rest of their House was.

Knowing all of this, Harry used the spell that Granger had used so many times before in the
cave.

Pointing his wand in the air, Harry yelled, “*Lumosonta!*”

A bright ball rocketed out of his wand and separated into fragments during its ascent as light
shone all over the enclosed dome. Not seven feet in front of him was a suddenly confused Neville
Longbottom. Harry was so caught off guard at the sight of Granger's closest friend that the
spell didn't come out of his mouth nearly quick enough. As Longbottom scrambled for his wand,
Blaise still had his wits about him and shouted, “*Stupefy!”*

The spell him Longbottom straight in the chest as the pudgy boy collapsed. Harry had no idea why
he was such a forward element but didn't have the time to think about it as a particularly
nasty Boiling Jinx hissed by his skin. Their location was given away by Harry's spell but
judging by the increased activity around them, it had caught the Gryffindors off their game. He
could only hope that the Slytherins had used the momentary distraction to their advantage instead
of being similarly paralyzed.

“Almost got cursed from Longbottom. What have we come to?” Blaise rhetorically asked as he
brought up a shield from a rocking Blasting Hex. The sounds were increasing to a dim roar as the
battle raged on in parts unknown to them. Harry pivoted around the corner and sent a Smoke Jinx
that would trigger a thick puff of smoke if a spell triggered the surrounding area. The Gryffindors
so neatly obliged and an impenetrable gray smoke suddenly filled the archway.

“Come on!” Harry yelled as he relocated his position, fighting his way through jagged stone and
slippery mud, trying desperately to flank the Gryffindors.

Harry and Blaise quietly proceeded through the hazy corridors, habitually peeking just their
heads around the corner and bringing their shields up in a precautionary move. The light from
Harry's initial spell was starting to dim, but from a distance, Harry heard the spell
again.

*“**Lumosonta!”*

It was Granger again, taking the page out of his book and using it as her own as another ball of
light splintered into fragments above them, casting eerie shadows in the darkness. It came from
Harry's left, but there was no approximate path he could take given the complexity of the maze.
Still, Harry pushed forward with Blaise right at his hip. The stone slabs high enough so that it
was impossible to see over them, making the going slow.

The glimmering magical light casted strange shadows on each of their face's as they slowly
moved adjacent left. Peering around the corner, Harry blanched as he saw a strong contingent of
Gryffindors in a small clearing. Unfortunately, the clearing was well fortified and provided them
ample cover from their spells. Putting a finger to his lips and mimicking *shush*, Harry
jerked his head in the direction of the Gryffindor stronghold.

“Hermione, we got a few of them. Still can't find Potter,” said the dread-locked boy
Dean.

“What about Malfoy? I thought I saw him come in after that big oaf.” It was her voice, but Harry
couldn't physically see her and definitely did not trust her enough to stick his neck out just
to strike her down. He distinctly remembered the last time he dueled with her.

“Can't find him either,” Dean answered. “I think Neville's down for the count, I saw him
a little while earlier.”

“Neville! I told him not to go too far. Why does he never listen to me?”

“You're not his mother, Hermione.”

*Ron Weasley*.

The slight whine and the cracking in the voice made evidence of Weasley's joining of the
conversation. Blaise realized this too as his eyes grew wide even in the darkness. They had special
plans for that particular Gryffindor.

“Rotate around again,” Granger ordered. “We can't stay here, we're too open.
*Remember*, do not engage Harry alone. Shoot up a light and I'll find you.”

“Are you kidding me?” Dean snorted. “The Boy Wonder beat three Ravenclaws. I'm not bonkers
enough to take him on by myself.”

“He's not that scary,” Granger reassured them. “Just reveal your location. I'll take
care of the rest.”

Quick on the turn, the Gryffindors scrambled through several other arteries of the maze to
search for the rest of the Slytherins. Harry made sure to follow the patch of red hair as it
disappeared around a corridor with Seamus the Irishman.

Pointing two fingers to Weasley's projected path, Harry nodded towards Blaise. Blaise
returned a thumbs up and used his pointer and middle finger to point to each of his eyes and then
back out at the clearing. Harry acknowledged his request to clear the perimeter before proceeding
for Weasley.

Harry turned the corner, his wand outstretched but his body low as he hugged the walls and
checked the clearing for any remaining Gryffindors. It seems though that they were true to their
word and followed Granger and others in an attempt to find the remaining Slytherins. They were far
more organized than Slytherin was and the squabbling and questioning as they decided to proceed
through the narrow tunnel had lost them precious seconds to set up on superior ground.

Satisfied that the Gryffindors had moved on, Harry proceeded towards Weasley, hoping to find the
red headed boy and inflict upon him more than just the shame they had used on Justin. It was
certainly time for the stick instead of the bad carrot. Harry paused, Blaise right behind him as he
heard a loud shout that resembled Pansy's high alto. After determining it wasn't nearby,
Harry moved forward again as Blaise proceeded parallel to him, two shadows lurking against the
wall.

Voices could be heard ahead and Harry looked back at Blaise and made a fist, then raised two of
his fingers. Blaise nodded as he expected two ahead of them and took the lead, coming flat against
the corner. Harry slid against the opposite wall, crouched, and leaned out for a moment to look
down a particularly long corridor.

*Weasley*.

The burnt red hair was just barely visible among the periodic flash of spells. Harry made an OK
sign with his fingers to Blaise and then held up the number three, adjusting the potential number
of Gryffindors ahead. Harry leaned forward to engage Weasley, but Blaise's sudden movement
stopped him. He held out his hand in an open palm, telling Harry to stop. Raising two fingers and
mimicking a *come here* motion, Harry flattened against the wall as he heard footsteps in the
opposite direction Weasley was facing.

Harry raised his pointer and thumb until it made an almost one hundred eighty degree angle and
then brought his hands together to form a rough circle. It was their short hand code for *lion or
snake?* Blaise only shook his head, unable to determine their identities in the darkness.

Harry knelt and cast two area trigger tripping spells that the two figures would cross. It would
allow Harry a split second moment of identification before either stunning them or enlisting them
to aid on their attack. The rushed footsteps were muffled against the mud and Harry waited until he
heard the tell tale snap of the tripping spell activating.

Whirling around the wall, Harry looked down and just before he cast a *Stupefy*, he met
Tracey's azure eyes. Breathing a sigh of relief, Harry pulled her up by the shoulder and
brought her and Malfoy into their corridor to keep them out of the line of sight.

“Sorry about that,” Harry apologized, keeping an eye on Weasley, who was currently engaging
someone unknown.

“Thought we were done for when you sent me sprawling on my arse,” Tracey smiled, her face caked
with flecks of mud.

“Precautions. Up ahead, three Gryffindors,” Harry whispered into her ear.

Tracey nodded, peeking out and adopting a charging stance. Nodding once to Malfoy to make sure
he was good to go, Harry peeled out into the corridor, making a quick bee line for Weasley's
position. The three other Slytherins followed in close behind him. Taking careful aim, Harry put a
lot of effort into his spell*.*

*“**BOMBARDA!”*

A simple stunner might have sufficed in taking Weasley out, but Harry wanted more than a simple
stun. Rage coursed through him as he joined the fray, the darkness ablaze with spells flying over
his shoulder as they slammed against the Gryffindor contingent.

It was Weasley, Dean Thomas, and Lavender Brown battling what looked to be the potential duo of
Millicent and Nott. The entire group blinked in surprise as Weasley was propelled off his feet and
smashed against an opposing wall. Such force was put behind the spell that they could visibly see
the dust blow off his clothes on impact. Wasting no time, Harry fired two Stunners at Lavender,
pressing his advantage.

The Gryffindor girl did well to block his initial attempts and in a move that surprised him for
a moment, sent mud flying into the air. Fortunately, Tracey dispelled of it with a Banishing Charm
and fired over his shoulder at Brown. The Gryffindor girl side stepped the spell and fired a
Blinding Jinx that squared Malfoy in the face.

“Whaaaa!” Malfoy collided with a wall, losing his wand in the process, thus making it impossible
to remove the jinx from his face.

“*Lumosonta!”*

Dean fired the spell in the air, hiding behind a structure as he did so. The bright light basked
the narrow corridor in a full swathe of light, finally illuminating the battlefield to somewhat of
a clear picture. Weasley was groaning against the wall, rolling around on the floor. Millicent and
Nott had joined in while they whittled away at the two standing Gryffindors.

Lavender put on a brave fight, one Harry didn't expect, as she repelled the five of them
along with Dean. Pure numbers won this skirmish however as they were stunned in a few short minutes
while Tracey removed the Blinding Jinx from Malfoy's face.

“Where is that stupid bitch?” Malfoy raged as he looked around for Brown.

“We got her for you.” Blaise laughed as he leaned against wall, fatigued from the fighting and
trekking through the mud.

“Give me a perimeter for a moment,” Harry ordered. “Malfoy, Nott, Bulstrode. Fan out.”

Malfoy grumbled something again, displeased with his temporary blindness in the heat of the
battle and having to take orders from Harry. He stalked off, splashing unnecessarily in the mud
while Nott leeringly looked at the downed bodies of the rest of the Gryffindors before pushing up
against a wall as well.

Once they were out of sight, Harry looked towards Tracey and Blaise and the two of them nodded
and stood shoulder to shoulder, their eyes looking around in the waning light while blocking Harry
from view. Crouching down next to Weasley, Harry took in the sight of the moaning red head. There
was most uncertainly a deep bruise or two and Harry suspected a cracked rib in the prospect. There
was no sympathy from him, however, as he thought of the surprise attack so many months ago.

“*Legilimens*.”

After weeks of training with Granger, sifting through an unprepared mind like Weasley was as
easy as breathing. The childhood memories surfaced first, a creaking bent house filled with other
red head siblings. Flashes of past duels and House matches were next in line as Harry searched
Weasley's mind for the particular memory that would identify the two other bullies.

Plunging into a dark corridor not unlike the one he was at currently, Harry found himself in
Hogwarts with four other people. Harry tried to ascertain their identities, but their faces
were...blurred? It was as if there were a haze of blurriness on each of their faces besides
Weasley. Harry wondered what sorcery this was as he watched the four of them wait for
something.

“Who called this meeting?” It was a girl's voice, something that shocked Harry.

“You guys got the same letter as I did. Something about learning to take down Potter.” This one
was definitely Justin. The Hufflepuff always had a deeper timber than the rest of his
classmates.

“Meeting in the middle of the night in dark hallways is a bit Slytherin for me,” Weasley
replied.

“Just shush.” It was an indeterminable male voice.

Harry tried guessing their identities by other identifiers, but hoods were pulled around all
their heads, masking any other potential clues. All of them were of average height and Harry could
only tell the girl through her slightly slimming robes. Was it a spell they were using? He found
that highly unlikely as the memory played forward. The only other explanation was that someone
tampered with the memory, but it would be quite a feat to do so. Only a...

“Welcome.”

A dark shadowy figure approached them from the end of the hallway, tall and imposing against the
waning moonlight. Then, the memory vanished and Harry was yanked back into the real world courtesy
of Blaise's hand shaking him out of the spell.

“Get up, Harry. Granger's here!”

Harry cursed profusely, mostly at Granger for her damned timing. He was at the cusp of finding
out the orchestrator behind his attacks and it was interrupted by that know-it-all Gryffindor. As
Harry stood up, he witnessed Nott and Bulstrode fly backwards and collapse in a heap together,
apparently unconscious. Malfoy came racing around the corner, pressing his body against the wall
with wild eyes.

“Bloody fuck. It's the Mudblood.”

They were centered in the middle of three corridors and Granger was racing down on them from the
same corridor that Tracey and Malfoy passed through.

“Was anyone with her?” Harry asked the blond as he formed his plan.

“I think - I think Patil? I don't know which one,” Malfoy blubbered.

Harry nodded once, his mind back and forth between Weasley's memories and Granger's
impending attack. “Tracey, take the wall on the left. Blaise, wall on the right. Malfoy, with
me.”

“With *you*?” Malfoy bewilderedly asked.

“Time to shine, Malfoy,” Harry grabbed him by his shoulder and hauled him forward while Tracey
and Blaise took their positions.

“What do you mean? Potter, let go of me!” Draco shrieked.

Pushing him against the wall, Harry looked at him dead in the eye, his face set in a grim line.
“She's just a Mudblood, right?”

Flustered, Draco answered, “Well - well - yes! But shouldn't I be back there with the other
two?”

“No, Draco. We meet her head on.”

With that token, Harry pushed him forward into the line of sight, then yanked him back by his
collar just as a spell missed him. At the same time, Harry pointed his wand around the corner and
casted the wide net spell he learned during his lessons with Granger.

“Potter, *let me go.”* Draco was near unbearable in the moment, clawing away from him.
Harry pushed him away, tired of his antics and once again pointed straight down the hallway, hoping
the net had slowed them down.

“*Lumosonta!”*

One more bright light exploded into tiny fragments, except it was directed at the hallway
instead of straight into the air. The resulting concentration momentarily blinded Harry as he
sprinted across the way, hoofing it to the other side in what he hoped to be under the cover of the
blinding light.

He watched Draco scramble away as he waited and waited. Breathing only through his mouth, Harry
stood with his back flat against the wall, his wand tucked into his chest as he held it there in
preparation for Granger. Hopefully, she hadn't seen his quick dart across the hallway and would
still assume they were to the right at the intersection instead of Harry waiting at the left.

There was a muffled discussion and the soft imprints of footsteps as the two Gryffindor girls
slowly advanced. Judging by the lack of activity in the surrounding area, they seemed to be the
remaining two representatives from Gryffindor. The wait was agonizing and Harry didn't dare
chance a peek around the corner. He could only hope that Granger didn't realize his location
and if he did, Tracey and Blaise were prepared enough to take her by surprise while he dueled with
her.

*One step.*

*Two step.*

*Three step.*

*Four step.*

*Five step.*

Harry counted off the beats, sweat mixing with dirt and mud as it rolled down his back. The
prolonged exposure to the dirty environments were taking a toll on his legs. His shins and ankles
ached from plodding through the mud, not to mention the magical exhaustion of dueling and then
performing Legilimency. He wasn't at peak condition and he could only hope Granger was
similarly tired.

She turned left.

They came face to face and, once again, Harry was paralyzed. They were at arms lengths from each
other and, in the back of his mind, Harry realized that Parvati had checked right while Granger
checked left. It was the smart tactic. Acting on instinct, Harry called up the spell that was on
his mind.

“*Legilimens*.”

It was impressive that Granger constantly kept her mental checks around even in the heat of
battle. It was nothing like Weasley's paltry defense. She immediately repelled him and pushed
back into his mind and as fatigued as he was, he couldn't withstand the intense pressure.
Incidentally, she picked the burning memory in his head and observed as he performed Legilimency on
Weasley. Harry quickly mustered whatever remained of his magical strength as he banished Granger
from his mind.

Pulled back into the present reality, Harry took in Granger's astonished and angered
expression. An consuming streak of guilt overtook him as he opened his mouth in apology. She was
never meant to know.

Then, she was falling forward into his arms and Harry instinctively reached out to catch her.
Over her shoulder, Harry could see Tracey pointing her wand at them and realized that the trio of
Slytherins on the other side of the hall had defeated Parvati handedly and only had to stun Granger
while her back was turned towards them.

Harry and Hermione fell together, the latter collapsing into the other's arms as he lowered
her to the ground gently.

Looking up, Harry could see Tracey's stone cold expression as she stared at the girl in his
arms. Blaise and Malfoy were slapping each other's backs in congratulations, oblivious of the
interplay going on before them. Harry looked down at Granger, unconscious in his arms as the muddy
setting disappeared around them until they were in the blank white room that formed after Battle
class was completed.

Granger looked helpless in his arms, mud and dirt all through her already unmanageable hair and
cuts and bruises from spells she had absorbed. He knew he should let go of her, but he didn't
want her body to be lying in the mud. He didn't have to look up to see Tracey's
incriminating stare. As he gently lowered her to the ground, he realized that the mirage they had
created - the secrecy and the lessons and the newfound discoveries - was slowly crumbling
apart.

“We won, Harry!” Blaise exclaimed.

Looking down at Granger and avoiding Tracey's gaze, Harry replied, “Yes. This is
winning.”

* * * * * *

**A/N: I know, I know, I didn't beat my estimate. Work has been slamming me, but I'm
glad to get this update out. There might be a quick update tomorrow but if not, I will hopefully
have it by the estimate below. Thanks again for all the kind reviews and I hope to hear more from
you.**

**Estimated update time: 18 days**
 Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7
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18. The Forest
--------------



*CAVE. NOW.*

Nothing expressed anger better than capitalized letters. It wasn't even their usual twilight
meetings. It was just after classes ended, that lull before nightly meetings from different clubs
and after the last session of classes.

Harry was in the hospital wing, visiting Pansy, who had suffered a rather nasty head wound due
to a slab of stone falling on her head, when the hot burning in his pocket indicated a message from
Granger. Discretely pulling away from Pansy's bedside, Harry proceeded along the hallways
towards the dungeons. Stepping into the alcove, Harry was uncomfortable aware of how many students
were still milling about. At night, there was a stillness and a silence that would have to be
broken in order for a student to pass. In the day, the constant noise was a dangerous presence.

Granger was already waiting for him, tapping her foot impatiently with a stormy expression on
her pale face. He had some prepared lines for her, but she was never meant to discover his
Legilimency use on Weasley. As a matter of fact, she wasn't supposed to know about any of his
Legilimency use outside of their sessions. She would definitely not sanction his behavior.

“Inside,” she angrily growled.

He didn't speak until they were inside, but after the bricks closed behind him, he opened
his mouth.

“Granger, there was a reason for -”

“There's no reason!” She exploded, turning around in the middle of the tunnel before they
had even reached the cave. “There's *no* reason for you to be using Legilimency on any of
the other people here!”

His temper got the better of him. “There is a bloody good reason, but I need to explain it to
you.”

“What's the reason, Harry?! What possible reason could there be that you needed to use
Legilimency on Ron? Is *that* why you were asking about him the other night? By Merlin, Harry,
you need to come up with something good,” she fumed.

“Let's keep going first.”

Granger huffed, crossing her arms and stomping forward. They entered the cave together, the
memory of their last meeting far in the back of his mind. It was as if they hadn't been there
in weeks even though it was just a few days. Following the Slytherin victory, there was an obvious
difference in the rankings between them and the other Houses when it came to House matches.
Slytherin was in the lead with the other three Houses tied behind them.

She sat down in the chair, accusing eyes kept on him as he followed suit in the opposite seat.
There was nothing comforting about her posture. The usual anticipation he felt when entering the
cave vanished and it was instead replaced with trepidation and nervousness.

“You need to start talking Harry. We weren't supposed to use Legilimency on anyone
else!”

“We never agreed upon that.” Harry pointed out.

“It was implied! And you should know better. There's privacy to consider. There's the
fact that they don't teach it here. It's magic that's frowned upon. There's a whole
host of reasons we shouldn't be using it on other people!”

“Then why did you want to learn it in the first place?!” Harry retorted. “It's not on the
curriculum. It's dangerous and unsavory. Why did you want to learn Legilimency and
Occlumency?”

“I was...I was...”

She struggled for words, grasping for thin air as she avoided his eyes. Harry realized that she,
too, had been keeping secrets from him. Particularly, the reason for her lesson plan. The study for
Harry's spell had obvious motivations, but he was always rather curious why she wanted to learn
Occlumency so badly.

“There *is* a reason, right?” Harry asked.

“This isn't about me!”

“Bullshit,” Harry finally called her out. “*You* wanted to learn Occlumency. *You*
insisted on learning it and then you're having me out for using it on someone else. What good
is learning a spell if I can't use it?”

“Not like this!”

“Then *tell me*, Hermione! Tell me why you wanted to learn Occlumency!” Harry pleaded.

“Because...because...”

She wanted to tell him. The words were at the tip of her tongue but something was holding her
back and that was completely unlike her. Granger was never afraid to speak her mind and if it was
something that made her pause, then it must have been something she put considerable thought into.
She was never one to act without reason.

“Because of what?” Harry gently coaxed.

Ducking her head and pinching the bridge of her nose, Granger shook her head. In a quiet voice,
she said one word.

“Snape.”

“Snape?” Harry repeated.

“He's why I wanted to learn Occlumency.”

Harry scratched his head, fixing the glasses on his nose. “What does Snape have to do with
this?”

She took a long pause before speaking again, still refusing to look up at him. Her eyes swiveled
to the small pond at the end of the cave, a glassy look in her eyes. Harry allowed her a moment of
silence, sensing that she was collecting herself but feeling a bit impatient as well.

“It was after my parents died.” The words came out in a rush, quickly spoken. “Snape and
McGonagall were telling me all these things that Hogwarts could provide for me, but I wasn't
really listening to them. Then I felt...something strange in my head. It was like a lightheaded
feeling that I couldn't shake. Then I felt it again when Snape looked at me. When we met eyes,
for the briefest moment...I....I saw.”

Curiosity was killing him at this point. “What did you see?”

“I saw Snape, except it was a younger version of Snape. He was in a room with someone else, but
I could tell - and you know this feeling now - that it was a memory. It was a memory of
*something*. It only happened for a split second, but I'm sure of what I saw, Harry.”

The implications were damning, yet Harry would be lying if he said he was completely surprised.
There was more than the occasional rumor that Snape could read minds and such use of Legilimency,
though morally questionable, would not be out of the question for a man like him. Still, to use it
on students was an entirely different process regardless.

“So you think Snape uses Legilimency on us? But how? If he's used it on me, I've barely
even noticed.”

“He would have years to master the skill,” Granger explained. “We've only been at it for a
little over a month but imagine if you had years to perfect it. Imagine if you were excellent at it
and could turn your emotions off just like that.” She snapped her fingers to emphasize the easiness
of it.

“And Snape...”

“...is cold,” Granger finished.

“But that doesn't explain *why* he would use it on us,” Harry said.

“I haven't figured that part out yet, but I know that he shouldn't be doing it. It
won't mean anything since he has so much power with as headmaster, but he shouldn't be
using it on us, especially when we don't even know. How many other kids do you thing he's
used Legilimency on?”

“Probably everyone.”

“Exactly,” she whispered. “I didn't want him combing through my mind again.”

It was paranoid and slightly insane, but Harry agreed with her. He never could shake that
nagging feeling whenever he made eye contact with Snape. Harry usually associated those feelings
with just nerves, but what if it was exactly what she said? What if Snape was so good at
Legilimency that he could comb through his mind without even alerting Harry?

“Shit.”

“Exactly,” she replied.

“That's a good reason,” Harry concluded.

Granger's shoulders dropped like a weight was lifted off them. A choked laugh escaped her
mouth and she hurriedly covered it, her shoulders shaking with mirth.

“There's nothing that funny about this,” he said.

“I'm sorry.” It was a cross between laughter and nervous crying. “I've just been keeping
this to myself all this time. I haven't even told Neville. He's petrified of Snape and
would've called me insane.”

“You're not insane,” Harry reassured her. “You're probably right.”

She finally looked up at him, making solid eye contact with him. “Thank you, Harry. Thank you
for that.”

As her nervous chuckling died down, she sobered up and the same flat expression returned to her
face. “I've told you my reasons. Now you need to tell me yours. Why'd you use Legilimency
on him?”

It was time for her to know. She had divulged something secret and potentially dangerous in her
theory about Snape. What was there to lose by telling her?

“Do you remember last fall? When you found me in the hallway with my cracked ribs?”

“Of course. You never did tell me how you go that.” She cocked her head at him as she recalled
the memory.

Rather than repeat the story, Harry had a better idea. One that would completely encapsulate the
exact experience. Motioning to her wand, Harry said, “Use *Legilimens* on me.”

Granger looked at him with sideways, her eyes flickering back and forth between her wand his
own. Slowly picking up her wand, she nodded and cast the spell on him. Harry created his defenses
at first but summoned the memory of that night. She had yet to find it as he had hid it as well as
all his memories from Number Four.

The hallway was lighter than he remembered. Perhaps he hadn't been particularly aware of his
surroundings in the moment. In the memory, Harry and Hermione could clearly see his attackers
materialize from behind nooks and crannies. Hoods were pulled low over their heads, but Harry
recognized Weasley's height now that he was removed from the memory. The first attacker was one
of the average sized guys. The girl didn't get involved until Weasley had stepped on his
hand.

Granger gasped beside him, but Harry kept himself focused. Any clue on who the other two bullies
may be would prove to be useful. They started kicking him and Harry avoided looking down at himself
and kept his eyes focused on the bullies. Each of them took a turn trying to beat him up, but it
was clear the instigator was clearly the leader. It must have been Justin given the ferociousness
of the beating.

“Stop it! Stop this!” Granger cried.

That sensation of falling returned as the memory vanished and they returned to the cave. Granger
stood up, walking towards the pool of water as she ran her hands through her hair, her breath
ragged like she had just received a beating of her own. Ducking his head, Harry walked up to her,
shoving his hands in his pockets.

“What does Ron have to do with this?” she asked in a shaky voice.

“I caught him trying again in the hallway the other night. Justin Finch-Fletchley is the other
one,” Harry quietly informed her.

“Justin...” She trailed off as realization dawned upon her. “He pushed himself off that ledge,
didn't he? Tried to make it look like you did it.”

“That's my assumption.” Harry nodded.

“But...why?” It wasn't often that Hermione Granger was perplexed, but the torn expression on
her face only made Harry laugh.

“There's nothing funny about this.” She parroted his own line to him.

“Sorry,” Harry said through chuckles. “It's just not often I see you confused.”

“It is confusing. Why would they do that to you?”

Granger turned to look at him, genuine concern in her eyes. They had come closer than just mere
peers learning from each other during their time in the cave. Usually, it was associated with
Occlumency or spells or some sort of lesson they were trying to teach each other. This was
different however. This was genuine empathy for Harry.

“I wish I knew. I'd like to think I could just ask them but I doubt that I'd get the
answers I wanted,” Harry said.

Granger still shook her head disbelievingly. “I just can't believe Ron would do anything
like that. I was right about what I said about him the other night. He's all talk. I mean,
perhaps in the right circumstances with particular people, he *might* be able to...attack
you...but it's almost incomprehensible to me.”

“You're that sure?”

She shrugged. “Frankly, I'm not too sure about anything about him right now from what I
saw.”

Swishing her wand, she levitated a small drop of water, forming and reforming it into different
shapes as they both soaked in the silence. The giant squid floated overhead, blocking out the
sunlight for a moment and as it floated away, the light revealed the torn expression on
Granger's face.

“Have you used Legilimency on anyone else?” she asked.

After a pause, Harry answered, “Against a Hufflepuff boy. He was picking on Luna Lovegood.”

Whether or not it was an appropriate qualifier was not something for Harry to judge. The silence
in Granger's response was all the answer he needed though. While he wasn't entirely too
sure if she approved of his rather brazen use of such an obviously forbidden spell, the fact that
there were circumstances it could be used for was something of a comforter to Harry. Granger
recognized the need for the spell's subservient use at certain times.

“What are you going to do now?” Granger wondered.

Harry thought of Weasley and the fear he felt when using *Legilimens* on him. He thought of
Finch-Fletchley and the Hufflepuff's brazenness. He thought of Snape and his alleged use of
Legilimency against students and against Granger.

“I don't quite know.”

* * * * * *

Amidst all the chaos of the recent weeks, there were still classes to attend and so Harry found
himself in Trow's Strategy class amongst the Gryffindors during their next rotation. He was
seated far away from Granger, removed of the drama earlier in the year when he had chosen to sit
next to her much to several Gryffindors consternation.

Professor Trow entered the classroom late, his face as sickly as ever while his white, hawkish
hair seemed to have thinned out even more. Instead of bringing down the projector to show some
films of previous years, he opened the blinds of the window that kept the room in dark. Sunlight
flooded the room as the beginnings of spring were noticeable outside.

“You will have one more House match before switching to a focus on individual duels and then the
resulting competitions at the end of the year. You have not previously had this *type* of
House match as it is not introduced until the Third Year. It will disproportionately effect the
House standings as to who will compete for the House Trophy at the end of the year.

Trow's voice was uncommonly grave, lacking the slight bounce and happiness that usually
accompanied his whimsy tenor. His hands were behind his back, looking out at the classroom with a
vague sense of anticipation. The room itself fell to a hush, sensing a great importance to this
change of demeanor from their usually optimistic professor.

“This House match will *not* be held in the Room of Requirement.”

Excited whispers bounced from student to student as Trow made the announcement. Every one of
their House matches had been held in the Room of Requirement so far. Even their participation in
the House Trophy was held in the Room of Requirement for the past two years. Slytherin had
represented during Harry's First Year while Gryffindor had represented them during their Second
Year. Predictably, neither of them proceeded far into the match, but they were still held in the
Room of Requirement nonetheless.

“Where's it going to be, professor?” Parvati Patil asked.

Trow's gaze shifted to the window as he gazed into the distance.

“It will be held deep in the Forbidden Forest.”

The excited whispers died down in an instant as every student focused their attention to the
forest looming in the distance. The leaves had not yet fully regrown from the cold winter, but it
was still imposing nonetheless, the trees tall and the canvas hiding the dangers that lurked
within.

“There will be time to prepare as well and everyone has the freedom to use the Stationary
Omnioculars to their advantage as well as discuss strategy and tactics with their respective
Houses. There is only one stipulation.”

Trow tapped the board with his finger and a canvas unrolled down the length of the board. It was
unlike the blank transparency where they watched projections of previous Years. Instead, it was an
outline of what looked to be a section of the forest. The details weren't particularly
outlined, but there were four distinct colored dots placed throughout the map.

“Each House will start at a corner of the outlined section of the Forbidden Forest. Your goal is
to have the last remaining member standing from your House. Should you do so, you will be rewarded
points - and if my calculations are correct - the House that does win will represent their Year for
the House Trophy.”

*So this is it*, Harry thought as he examined the green dot of the map, located directly
opposite to the gold and red Gryffindor dot.

*All or nothing*.

* * * * *

It was difficult to wrangle his whole year, but Harry managed to find the rest of the Slytherins
for an impromptu meeting in the Common Room. The rest of the students were milling about, but the
Third Year Slytherins were concentrated in the corner closest to the fireplace. Once again, Harry
stood at the hearth, the heat of the fire nipping his heels.

“Everyone understands we need to win this, right? All the other Houses beat each other up so
they're in close enough range to overtake us should one of them win this House match,” Harry
conveyed the seriousness of the situation.

“It's the Forbidden Forest though. Who knows what's in there?” Bulstrode, the last
person Harry would have suspected as scared, asked.

“Nothing we couldn't handle or anything that would seriously hurt us,” Harry pointed out. “I
doubt the teachers would let such a thing happen, but let's review our Creatures notes and ask
Professor Lupin any questions we might have in anticipation of something from there.”

“I'm not asking that werewolf anything.” Predictable Malfoy.

“Regardless!” Harry spoke up over the increasing grumbling. “We need to form a strategy in order
to beat them. This fight is a bit different. We know what the Forest is like. We know where each of
the Houses will start. We've battled against them enough to know their particular strengths and
weaknesses. This isn't until next week, but I'll have to ask you for at least three more
meetings before then.”

There were predictable grumbles of busy schoolwork and other excuses where time was somehow a
limited, but Harry shushed it all with a hiss and a glare.

“Do you want to win?”

Blaise grinned that lazy smile of his. “Hell yeah, Harry.”

* * * * *

Harry immediately set out for the Strategy classroom, set to study tapes of the other Houses all
night if he had to. No doubt Granger would be there as well as the leaders of the other Houses. If
any of the Houses were taking this situation as seriously as Harry, then the Strategy room would be
filled to the brim.

“Harry, wait!”

Stopping in the middle of the hallway, Harry was a bit surprised to see Tracey trailing after
him, a heavy bag in tow. She caught up after a moment and Harry stood still for a couple seconds to
let her catch her breath.

“What are you doing, Trace?”

“I'm going to help you,” she said breathlessly. “I figured you were going to get yourself a
Stationary Omniocular and I...I wanted to help you.”

He usually did most of the work by himself but an extra set of eyes and someone to bounce his
ideas around sounded quite useful at the moment. Besides, he needed to accumulate as much
information as possible and any extra set of eyes or hands would help. Smiling at her, Harry nodded
at her and continued his trek towards the Strategy classroom.

“Any preliminary ideas?” Tracey asked as they turned down a corridor.

“My instinct says we should segregate our targets. Focus on taking one House down at a time.
There's no accurate predictor on which House will attack which, but I figured that we could
take the Ravenclaws or the Hufflepuffs by surprise.”

“Why not the Gryffindors?”

Harry shook his head in negation. “They're across the map, the furthest away from us.
Besides, attacking them will require crossing straight through the heart of the forest. I'd
rather stick to the sides and eliminate our targets one by one.”

Tracey acknowledged. “Good thinking.”

Looking at her sideways, he said, “I didn't think you'd want to be doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“You know. Looking for hours at old tape of other Houses dueling each other.”

She stopped in the middle of the hallway, blood draining from her already pale face.

“*Hours?* As in...plural?”

“Of course. How long do you think I usually look at the tapes?”

“*An* hour? Maybe?” She asked hopefully.

Harry chuckled as he waved for her to continue on. “I wouldn't learn anything in an hour.
It's all in the details, Tracey. You've gotta look closer between the lines if you want to
-”

“Potter!”

Another person yelled his name, but when Harry and Tracey turned around to see who the caller
was, they were perplexed to find a flustered Neville Longbottom approaching them from the long end
of the hallway. The Gryffindor boy walked forward haltingly, his steps measured and careful until
he finally reached the pair of Slytherins.

“What is it Longbottom?” Harry asked, slightly annoyed that there was yet another delay on his
journey to the Strategy room. At this rate, all the Stationary Omnioculars would be taken.

It was only after Harry finished being annoyed that he realized that Longbottom was practically
shaking. The pudgy boy had an expression of hesitant fear and that visage, combined with the
uncontrollable shaking, unsettled Harry. Neville opened his mouth to speak but stuttered the first
few words.

“I - I - I know that it's you!”

“Me - what?” Harry was as confused as ever.

“You're the one that's been pulling Hermione away from her studies. You're the
reason why she's disappearing in the middle of the night!”

Apprehension suddenly changed Harry's train of thought from the Stationary Omnioculars to
Neville. He tried as hard as he could to avoid meeting Tracey's eyes to confirm the boy's
suspicions. How could he know? His tone was accusatory and he doubted that Granger would tell
Longbottom about their arrangement. Or would she? How well did he know her?

“What are you getting on about, Longbottom?” Harry tried his best to employ a Malfoy sneer, but
it felt hollow and empty.

“I got...I just *know* that you're the one Hermione's meeting. She's been
closed off and quiet and not talking a lot these past weeks and I....I don't know what
you're doing, but...but it has to stop!”

It would have been funny if it weren't so true. Longbottom's stuttering and nervous
ticks betrayed his attempted bravery, but Harry was caught in a bind. There was some kernel of
truth hidden behind his accusations. Harry couldn't just dismiss the boy and not know who his
source was.

“You've gone barmy, Longbottom.” Tracey sneered more authoritatively. “I don't know what
you're on about but leave us alone.”

Tracey turned her back in obvious dismissal, but Harry could tell from her panicked face that
she, too, disliked Longbottom's sudden epiphany. Harry was rooted at the spot, blankly gazing
at Longbottom but not really seeing him.

“You come up with this on your own, Longbottom?” Harry quietly asked.

“What does it matter?” He was agitated. “It has to stop! Whatever you're doing to Hermione
has to stop!”

Harry rolled his eyes, still feigning ignorance. “I don't know who's been telling you
these things, but you've got your head up your arse.”

He made to turn, desperately betting that Longbottom would break under the illusion that Harry
didn't care about his predicament.

“I got a note. I...” Longbottom gulped. “I saw you two in the dungeons this afternoon.”

Harry quickly turned, surprising Longbottom so much that the pudgy boy jumped in the air.
Quickly scanning the hallway, Harry made sure no one else was in the surrounding area as he
approached Longbottom as intimidatingly as he could. Coming face to face him, Harry quietly hissed,
“What did you see?”

Longbottom was pale as a sheet, quivering in the close proximity. “Nothing! I...I....you
can't do this to Hermione!”

Harry looked into the Gryffindor's eyes and an irrational need to perform Legilimency came
upon him. His hand was already on his wand, but a voice that sounded oddly like another Gryffindor
reminded him that he wasn't *supposed* to perform it on others.

Instead, Harry whispered, “I don't know who has been sending you letters, but what Granger
and I do is none of your concern. For your sake, I would banish that memory of the dungeons if you
know what's good for you.”

Dramatically turning, Harry walked away, his expression resolutely blank even as Tracey looked
wearily from him to Longbottom. He was almost convinced that the cowardly boy would simply shrink
away to his Common Room, but it looks like Longbottom wasn't sorted into the house known for
bravery for no reason.

“No! I don't know what you're doing, but it can't be good. You'll...you'll
have to fight me first.” Longbottom's voice was shaky and quivering, but it was loud and would
draw attention.

Harry actually laughed, the prospect of dueling Longbottom so painfully easy that it was all he
could do not to burst into more laughter.

“I'm not dueling you, Longbottom. Just go back to your Common Room.”

He tried to walk away, confident that the Gryffindor boy wouldn't attack him with his back
turned. Luckily, Tracey held no such reservations as she deflected the Itching Hex that Longbottom
sent his way. Astonished, Harry about faced with an incredulous expression.

Longbottom had his wand out, the carefully crafted wood shaking in his hand. “I'm
Hermione's friend. I won't have you...influencing her.”

Harry could have practically screamed because of his stupidity.

“Leave it be, Longbottom,” Harry growled, the evident warning in his voice.

“No.” Longbottom stood up straighter, attempting to convey a sense of defiance. “I won't let
that happen.”

*What has gotten into him?* In every duel and House match he'd ever watch involving
Longbottom, the boy was a coward straight and through. He fought weakly, usually avoided the heart
of the battle, and had th competence of a First Year. What brought upon this sudden
courageousness?

“I'm leaving, Longbottom,” Harry said it with a sense of finality.

“*Stupefy*!”

Harry quickly blocked it, unperturbed as he glared at the Gryffindor. From the corner of his
eye, Harry saw a figure come around the corner. The ruckus had obviously attracted at least one
bystander and Harry was unsurprised to see Justin Finch-Fletchley lean against a wall, placing
himself in Longbottom's blind spot. Tracey tensed up next to him as she spotted the Hufflepuff
boy, her wand suddenly in front of her, though still lowered, instead of at her side.

With the sliest of winks, Justin yelled, “*FIGHT!”*

His deep voice rung out through the hallway, echoing down the corridors and bouncing with
reverberation. Harry was about to confront the Hufflepuff when Longbottom took that announcement as
a gong to begin this trite duel.

“*Conjuctus!”* Neville flicked his wand, attempting to hit Harry with a painful Twisting
Hex.

He side stepped it easily, taking care to avoid attracting the spell towards Tracey. Looking
towards his friend, Harry shook his head, indicating that he didn't want to actually duel
Longbottom. Tracey looked worriedly at Justin instead of Neville and walked backwards, keeping an
eye on the Hufflepuff. By this time, a few other students had come around the corner, eager to see
the after hours special. Longbottom was in fuel duel stance, pacing back and forth as he kept a
cautious eye on Harry's wand.

“I'm not fighting you, Longbottom,” Harry said to him. “Just go back.”

“*Expelliarmus*!”

The spell was pitifully off target, so much so that Harry didn't even move as it soared
above him. He shook his head and kept walking backwards, hoping not to engage the Gryffindor boy.
Neville swished his wand about him and a stone brick hurtled from a wall towards Harry. Surprised,
Harry redirected the brick towards the ground, smashing it to dust.

“Longbottom, stop this!” Harry yelled.

More kids arrived, crowding the hallway and giving them their space. He could see Weasley's
red hair amongst the crowd and wondered if he was the one that tipped Neville off or if it was
Justin's machinations instead. A few other Gryffindors arrived and egged Neville on,
encouraging him to hit Harry.

“*Incarcerous!”*

The spell was almost effective as a tangle of vine wrapped around Harry's leg. Blasting it
away with a simple Cutting Hex, Harry looked at Longbottom and warned him one last time.

“Longbottom. Don't.”

It was hard to say anymore without divulging the reason for this faux duel. A healthy crowd had
gathered at this point and any hopes of a teacher or a Prefect stumbling upon this section of the
corridor was minimal. He knew their patrols from all the nights sneaking around Hogwarts and could
only hope that the noise would attract someone eventually.

Unfortunately, Longbottom wasn't going to oblige him that time.

Lunging forward, Longbottom aimed a Reductor spell and a Blinding Hex Harry's way. Unable to
take any more of his incompetent dueling, Harry used an Absorbant Shield, a recently learned spell,
to reflect the Reductor spell towards Longbottom and blasted him off his feet. The haphazard way in
which the Gryffindor had been approaching Harry caused him to lose his balance and smash against a
wall from the resulting concussion wave.

The somewhat rabid crowd silenced as Longbottom fell against the wall, a trickle of blood
running from his crown.

“Neville!”

A small figure pushed through the crowd and Harry watched mutely as Hermione ran towards him.
She must have been in the Strategy room already and had heard the commotion outside. Kneeling
beside him, she shook him until he awoke from his unconscious state. Longbottom said a few slurred
words and his head slumped forward again.

Hermione turned towards Harry, inquisition and accusation written all over her face. Harry
looked helplessly back at her and then shifted his eyes upwards to see a few other Gryffindors, Ron
Weasley and Dean Thomas, stepping forward with glowering expressions.

“Get out of here, Potter,” Ron ordered, standing up to one of the strongest wizards in his
year.

Harry looked back at Hermione, wanting to relay a message across to her, but there were too many
people around. Every eye was on him and even a simple spell would have taken notice. None of them
spoke as Hermione tried to wake Neville again and Harry had the distinct feeling that they made him
culpable of Longbottom's injuries even though it should have been obvious to anyone that it was
the Gryffindor who attacked him.

How were they supposed to comprehend Neville Longbottom, bottom of their year, suddenly fighting
Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived and the skilled Slytherin duelist?

“Harry, come on.” Tracey tugged at his arm, aware that there were no Slytherins around. He
allowed himself to be pulled away, casting a lingering glance towards Hermione, but she had all of
her attention focused on Neville. Painfully aware that everyone would know of this by tomorrow
morning, Harry fled towards the Slytherin Common Room.

* * * * * *

Harry took next afternoon's lunch in the quiet peace of the Astronomy tower. He didn't
want to see the shaming looks from the students that had been there last night and while he wanted
to explain himself to Granger, she hadn't responded to his requests to meet him at the cave
during the morning. Tracey offered to accompany him, but he wanted to be left alone to his
thoughts.

*Why Longbottom?*

It would be the last person he expected to ruin his relations with Granger, but he just
didn't understand the boy's sudden outburst. He was also frustrated by the lack of his
answers from him. Who had given Longbottom the note that tipped him off about his and Granger's
whereabouts that morning? Who even *knew* about him and Granger in the first place?

He wanted to place all of his bets on Justin. That sly wink and the fact that he had
*conveniently* arrived in time to call a crowd towards Neville's sudden outburst were far
too many coincidence for Harry to believe. What was his goal? All of the Houses already envied him,
but why would he want Longbottom to attempt to duel him? Was it an attempt to drive a wedge between
he and Granger?

Harry threw his chicken out of the window, trying to alleviate the building knot in his chest.
The fatigue of the school year was catching up to him and all of these twists and turns were
starting to wear him down.

“Hullo, Harry.”

Luna took a seat next to him without any preamble, dutifully chewing on a scone. She looked as
if she had no care in the world as she gazed out onto the clear sky, another indicator of an early
spring.

“Luna,” Harry grunted, disappointed that his wish for solitude had gone unanswered.

“I heard you've been busy again.”

“Think everyone's *heard*.”

She tutted, picking apart her scone delicately. “That business with the Longbottom boy...”

“It wasn't my fault.” Harry found himself defensive. “He was the one that attacked me.”

“There seems to be a lot of that going on,” Luna said with an expectant eyebrow.

“Yes,” Harry leaned back to look at her. “How do you know all of that, Luna?”

“I see things. People don't see me, but I still see things.”

He was in no mood for cryptography, so he reverted to silence, eating what was his left of his
potatoes as his chicken had gone flying from the windowsill moments before.

“You don't see it, do you?” Luna asked.

“The sky? It's rather blue,” Harry sardonically replied.

“No. The forest.”

“The Forbidden Forest? You've heard about that too? Can't wait to see what they've
cooked up for us in there.”

“No, silly. The forest from the trees. You don't know see what they're doing?”

Harry threw his fork down, imaptience getting the best of him. “No, Luna! I *don't* see
what they're doing!”

The blond Ravenclaw was quiet as she finished her scone. Brushing the crumbs off her skirt, she
looked out to the forest, the green expanse stretching well beyond the eye's reach. She opened
her arms wide, gesturing to it as a whole.

“Imagine this, Harry. You threw a Hufflepuff off a roof. You embarrassed three Ravenclaws in a
duel. You beat up on the lowliest Gryffindor in the hallways after class and now you're going
to be put in the Forbidden Forest with all of these Houses. What do you think is going to
happen?”

Harry sputtered, “But - but *I* didn't do that! Justin threw himself off the roof. I
didn't even want to fight the three Ravenclaws and Neville attacked *ME*!”

“It doesn't matter what you did.” Luna shrugged. “It matters what people *think* you
did.”

“And so what if they *think* I did all that?”

Luna stood up, flicking a few crumbs away from her body. She frowned in disappointment at
him.

“The forest, Harry. See the forest.”

And as Harry looked out and had a few moments of silence, he finally did see the forest.

* * * * * *

“Everything is in place?”

“Yes. The last maneuvers have been set and we shall see if the boy rises to the occasion.”

“And you think he will? Come through that is?”

“I am encouraged. He has progressed far beyond my expectations this year.”

“With the help of the girl of course. Tell me, at what point did you start incorporating her
into your plans?”

“After the Occlumency. That was definitely a lesson I did not think he would learn until the end
of his Fourth Year at best.”

“So she is going to help him?”

“We shall see. There are other tests in the future that I think she will be a limiter. For now,
I will accept her presence.”

“It helps that she reminds you a lot of *her*.”

“Don't speak of her. She is a ghost of the past. We are looking towards the future, are we
not?”

“Everything is done for the future.”

“Precisely. On our other tasks - did you find the locket?”

“In the old Black residence. We lost a man to a decoy in a cave, but I was able to procure it
and have someone destroy the locket.”

“And the ring?”

“The ring as well. We lost another person to it. These curses he put upon them...”

“Sacrifices.”

“At some point, we will run out of people to sacrifice.”

“No one in history has gained advantage without losing something along the way. It will be
better for the boy not to have to go on this trivial item hunt. What about the cup?”

“We're working on it. Time is needed to recoup our losses.”

“Time we have now. I have unsettling reports in the East of a darkness looming.”

“As have I. Different sources with the same answer. I'm not a fond believer of
coincidences.”

“Neither am I. All the more reason to hope that the boy realizes what needs to be done.”

* * * * *

**A/N:**

**Thanks for all the great reviews everyone! I hope you enjoy this chapter. There will be
approximately five or six more chapters covering the Third Year. I've deicded to continue the
story as one whole novel instead of splitting it into different parts. Once again, I appreciate all
of your reviews and if you have some time, please let me know your thoughts. Glad to be under the
estimated update time.**

**Estimated update time: 14 days**
 Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7
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19. Follow The Leader
---------------------



"Have you spoken to her?"

Harry and Tracey were seated in an empty classroom, examining a replica of the map of the
Forbidden Forest. There were two days left before this next simulation and Harry had spent most of
the week trying to formulate a strategy to gain an advantage for this Battle class.

Looking up from the map but not at Tracey, Harry answered, "No."

Tracey nodded her head slightly, dark ringlets falling across her face as she stared at the map.
She traced a line from the Gryffindor encampment on the other corner of the map towards the
Slytherin green dot.

"Perhaps its for the best. It's not as if you could have continued meeting her in that
cave forever."

"Perhaps," Harry shortly replied. "There are more pressing matters at hand
anyways. If I'm right..."

"Which you don't know you are," Tracey quickly pointed out.

"Yes, but if I am, then there's a strong chance that two of the Houses might join in a
temporary alliance of sorts."

"Would they really do that? How petty could they possibly be?" Tracey wondered.

"It's not petty," Harry argued. "There are specific grievances against every
House, each of them inflicted by *me*. Furthermore, it shouldn't be passed notice that we
have not lost to any of the Houses this year. Even if they weren't already motivated by their
anger towards me, or Slytherin in general, it isn't out of the question for them to team up for
simple strategical reasons."

"It's just two Houses."

"It's not two Houses I'm worried about," Harry countered.

"What then? All three of them?" Tracey incredulously threw her hands in the air.
"You can't be serious, Harry."

"We should plan for the worst case scenario."

She shook her head disbelievingly. "So what if all three Houses do so? We have
you."

"I'm just one person."

"You're more than one person, Harry."

Tracey's voice held a comforting note, a reminder that she was speaking to him as friend and
not just another member of the Slytherin house planning for battle. Her blue eyes were less icy and
were instead a comforting pool of assuredness.

"You're brave but cunning. Smart but loyal. I saw what you did for Loony -"

"Luna," Harry corrected.

"For her," Tracey repeated. "You're not like Malfoy or Nott or any of the
other Purebloods. The other Slytherins know that too. You're more than just *one* person,
Harry."

Harry looked at her, all earnest and sincere. He was more than just one person. Even
subconsciously, there was an underlying knowledge that the rest of the Slytherins followed his lead
even if he was a Half-Blood. For them, that was a matter that somehow seemed insignificant once
accepted into the House. Once, he might have just been the Boy-Who-Lived, but they saw him as
something else now.

"It's still three Houses. There's only so much I can do..."

Harry trailed off as the classroom door opened and Susan Bones quietly stepped in. Tracey
quickly wrapped the map in a tight roll, trying to disguise the potential movements they had
magically drawn onto it. Harry quickly stepped in front of Tracey, covering the remaining visible
parts of the map.

Susan stopped as she saw their hurried attempts to hide something. She quickly looked away, not
meeting eyes and keeping her arms tightly wrapped around the books pressed to her chest. Harry
nodded at her, curious as to how she found them and what she was doing here.

"Zabini said I could find you here." She answered both of his immediate concerns in
one fell swoop.

"What is it Susan? Is it something with Justin?" Harry quickly asked, knowing the only
reason she would find him would concern that particular Hufflepuff.

"Yes," she said haltingly. "In a manner of speaking."

Harry nodded at her to continue speaking once he made sure that the map was hidden.

"I overheard Justin speaking with Padma Patil from Ravenclaw. They were near the Hufflepuff
Common Room and I didn't mean to sneak on them, I swear!" Susan seemed nervous of her own
voice, her eyes skittishly glancing around the obviously empty classroom.

"And what'd you hear?" Harry coaxed.

Susan hesitated. "You realize that if anyone finds out about this, my House would make me a
leper. They'd do as best to throw me out."

"You realize what our House would think about us meeting in empty classrooms with a
Hufflepuff?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

"You're different. You're the Boy-Who-Lived," Susan said, echoing something
Tracey had just told him earlier. "If you're meeting with me, they just think you're
manipulating me or taunting me or threatening me. If I'm meeting with you..."

"Then why are you here?"

The redhead shook her hand, her fiery mane falling about her face. "Justin agreed with
Padma to team together to defeat you for the first portion of the match at least. You should also
know that Justin said he was meeting with Ron Weasley next."

"Fuck."

The word was quietly uttered from behind Harry and he didn't even bother looking back to
know that Tracey thought this was bad. Luna had been right. Every instance of embarrassment for
each of the Houses made it easy for Justin to motivate them. While Harry didn't know if it had
all been orchestrated by the Hufflepuff, he knew enough to prepare against the possibility of all
three Houses combining against them. With the information Susan just provided them, it looked to be
that Luna was right.

"I need specifics, Susan." Harry took a step forward and Susan took a matching step
backwards.

"I don't have specifics, Potter. Justin and Padma agreed on holding a truce until
Slytherin was defeated and then Justin specifically said that he was meeting with Ron Weasley in an
hour. They walked away after that and I took my time *not* following them. You said you would
be there if you Justin said something and here I am."

Susan was growing more flustered by the moment, regret evidenced in every one of her twitchy
motions. Harry sought to calm her down and temporarily halted his advance, looking back at Tracey
to take his eyes off the redhead and assuage any guilt she might have for potentially betraying her
House.

"I understand," Harry consoled her with words. "I know this must be tough for
you, but I hope you can see our predicament. The three other Houses planning against us doesn't
exactly put us on fair ground."

"Nothing is fair *here*," Susan responded. "I'm only telling you this
because of some perverse sense of guilt."

"But you didn't have to and yet you did," Harry pointed out. "You told us
because you think something is wrong."

Her silence was enough to confirm his assumptions. Why else would Susan come to him with this
information? On its own, it was nothing insidious. Surely, Hufflepuff had to see that it would be
beneficial for them to assume an alliance. When he first recruited Susan, Harry was hoping that she
would catch Justin sneaking out at night or return to the Common Room winded. Instead, she had come
to him with a nugget of information that could be their key to victory or at the very least,
staying off a massacre.

"Some people in Hufflepuff still believe in fair play," Susan muttered. "I
remember what you did for me when we tried to attack you for throwing Justin off the
roof."

"I didn't throw him off the roof," Harry quickly interrupted.

"Regardless," she shot back, "You didn't have to and you did. I don't
like being in someone's debt so here you go."

Susan turned to leave but stopped at the sound of Tracey's voice.

"Thank you," Tracey called out.

The redhead from Hufflepuff opened her mouth to speak but closed it, shaking her head in what
looked to be apparent frustration. The door closed behind her, leaving behind a silence that
carried tension and the burden of what was to come.

"Well, we've truly lost the plot with this one," Tracey commented.

"Not entirely," Harry answered. "Do you think it's a coincidence that Justin
would purposefully meet with Padma Patil *and* Ron Weasley? What are the chances that those
are his two contacts to forge an alliance?"

"What are you trying to say?" Tracey wasn't following him very well and for once,
he wished that Granger was here instead to brainstorm with him.

"Tracey, there was a bully that was a girl. I don't think it's just a coincidence
that Justin happens to be dealing with Padma."

The realization was slow on her, but she caught up eventually. "Why Padma?! I don't
think you've even spoken to her - have you?"

"Not that I remember. It doesn't make a lot of sense, but I don't have to speak to
her in order to infuriate her."

"It still doesn't matter," Tracey disagreed. "Beating you up is personal.
It's a vendetta. It's not something you come up with just because they dislike you.
Besides, I don't think I've ever even seen Padma angry."

"You're right," Harry conceded in the moment. "It doesn't make a lot of
sense that she would be one of the bullies, but you do agree with me that it's at the very
least suspicious that Justin is making deals with her, don't you?"

"That part makes sense."

"That gives us three," Harry said, mostly to himself.

"And what of the alliances?"

Harry sighed as he unrolled the map.

"That also gives us three."

* * * * *

"No, no, no, no!"

Harry threw his wand down as Millicent ran into Daphne as they attempted to weave and attack. In
an attempt to assess everyone's attributes, Harry had them attacking each other and performing
maneuvers that would hopefully be of help to them for the final House match. Unfortunately, they
didn't work well together. There were few partnerships to be had as Slytherins inherently
distrusted everyone. Malfoy and Nott worked well together, relatively speaking, but everyone else
was a headless chicken.

"You want to keep your head on a swivel. Make sure you're aware of your surroundings
and we won't have problems like that. All of these Houses are going to be attacking us and you
need to keep storage of the entire radius around you," Harry lectured.

"Potter, what makes you so sure that they're all teaming up against us again?"
Malfoy complained, kicking a fallen tree branch.

They were at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, a distance away from any lurking eyes. While it
was obvious what they were practicing, one had to be either within the forest or within earshot to
hear what they were saying. The Third Year Slytherins had been training for over an hour, but there
was little progress to be made.

"I have a source. All three of the Houses are going to forge an alliance against us,"
Harry said for the umpteenth time.

"He's right," Tracey backed him up.

"And if they don't?" Pansy asked. "What if they're not teaming up against
us? We'll be practicing this shell formation for no reason. Why can't we just attack one of
the Houses straight and cut them off?"

"I told you in the beginning." Harry was beginning to get frustrated. "If
they're smart, they're going to pull together first. Ideally, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw
would withdraw towards Gryffindor since they're the furthest away from us. From there, they can
just sweep down on us with a numbers advantage."

There were more grumblings from the dissatisfied group, but Harry could ill afford having them
underestimate the task at hand. A crushing defeat would eliminate any hope they would have at
competing in the House cup and it would also derail his Master List rankings. Furthermore, there
was a personal grudge to settle with Finch-Fletchley. He couldn't let him nor Weasley nor any
of the others win.

"Bring it together," Harry ordered, waving his arms in such a way to cluster the
Slytherins. "This is called the rotating shell. It's predicated on old goblin techniques.
You stand in two lines and rotate back and forth with the front line producing shields while the
back line presses forward when presented with opportunities. To keep fresh and reduce potential
lapses in concentration, you will then rotate towards the front."

Harry emphasized the movements and scowled at the lackadaisical approach they took. None of this
was going according to plan. It was one thing to order them in the heat of battle, but it was
another to try and train them ahead of time. He was realizing why he usually spent his time with
Tracey and Blaise instead.

"*Remember*, simple shields only! Use Protego and try to avoid drawing in unnecessary
spells. The second your shield goes down, there is vulnerability gap that will leave us exposed.
This will be the best way to combat several Houses at once."

"This is useless!" Nott threw up his hands. "We're slow and a sitting
Hippogriff in this formation. Why don't we go with our normal attacking ones?"

"We don't have a normal attacking one," Tracey pointed out.

"Yes we do. We group together and cause a distraction while Potter takes care of the rest.
Isn't that how we've won all of our House matches so far?" Malfoy piped up with a
healthy dose of sarcasm.

"I can't take on all three Houses, no matter what anyone says," Harry shot
back.

"How do they expect us to take on all these Houses?"

"Is this even fair?"

"Those scums are cheating!"

"Let's take it to them!"

The conversation dissolved rapidly as each voice overtook the other. Harry rubbed his temples
with one hand, unwilling to face the fact that this was somehow the best they could do. Surely, the
Slytherins were smarter than falling into a raucous rabble.

"Just shut up! Everyone shut up!" Harry yelled over the competing arguments.
"Just take a bloody break. We'll reconvene tomorrow."

Like a dog released from a leash, the Slytherins scattered to the winds, save for his two close
friends. Tracey and Blaise remained near the edge of the tree line with him, watching the rest of
the Slytherins race back towards the castle.

"That didn't go as well as expected," Tracey said.

"What are you talking about? We got all of them to agree on one thing. They didn't want
to train!" Blaise responded.

"What's the bloody point then? We're going to get ripped apart into pieces at this
rate," Harry grumbled as he sat down and leaned against a tree.

Tracey smoothed out her skirt and plopped down next to him, tearing apart a few dead leaves in
the process. A sudden warm spell had overtaken Hogwarts for the week, granting them a short
reprieve against the bitter cold of winter.

"So what are we going to do?" Tracey asked.

"There's not a lot we can do." No sooner than he had taking a seat, Harry popped
up as he spotted Justin Finch-Fletchley conversing with Padma Patil again. He watched them as they
came from the return leg of the path around the Great Lake.

"Let's go back," Harry said as he started his walk towards the Hogwarts doors.

As they returned, Harry kept his eyes on the pair from different Houses. Once they reached the
double doors of the Hogwarts entrance, Tracey made her leave to return to the dormitories to
freshen up before supper. As she parted, Harry made sure to grab Blaise by the elbow.

"Clingy, Harry?" Blaise looked down at the hand attached to his elbow.

"Hardly the sort. I do need you to do something for me though."

* * * * *

After a late night session in Trow's classroom with the help of Tracey, Harry set off to
make one more stop before returning to the Common Room. He bid Tracey good-bye, trusting that this
pending conversation would not last long. He made sure that Daphne Greengrass accompany her to the
Common Room though. Harry didn't quite know whether or not Justin and company would strike
again and at his friends, previously unprecedented, but he wanted to make sure Tracey was safe.

He wasn't entirely sure whether this professor would be in his office this late at night. It
wasn't quite burning the midnight oil, but it was approaching curfew and Harry didn't have
the energy to sneak back to the Common Room that night. Crossing a few corridors and navigating
down one flight, Harry found himself in front of the Creatures classroom.

Given the fact that this particular Battle class would be held within the Forbidden Forest,
Harry thought it would be pertinent to at least ask the Creatures professor whether or not there
would be creatures they would also have to contend against within the Forest. It was already
difficult enough trying to manage a plan that would realistically compete against the three other
Houses. Harry didn't want to worry about other potential disturbances within the Forest as
well.

Knocking on the door, Harry heard a muffled sound from the other side and assumed that was a
welcome.

The room was empty save for the teacher at the far end. He was seated at his desk, two lamps
burning and a stack of parchment on either side of him. Professor Lupin didn't look any
healthier than the beginning of the semester, his clothes as ill-fitting as usual. His sandy hair
forked in different directions, spiking around in a messy manner.

When Lupin looked up from his grading, his expression was that of mild surprise. Harry had never
searched for him outside of class as he had little interest in Creatures nor did he understand why
they taught it at Hogwarts. It was of little practical use to him.

"Hello professor. I was wondering if you had a minute to talk about something," Harry
spoke quietly, not forgetting Lupin's lycanthropy. It wasn't that he feared the beast
within, but Harry thought it was best not to antagonize him or interrupt him from his work.

"Surely, Mr. Potter. It is getting a bit late though."

"It won't be long," Harry quickly remarked. "It's about the upcoming
Battle class for the Third Years. Do you know about it?"

"Of course," Lupin said with a wry smile. "Headmaster Snape has deemed it fit to
forgo the simulations of the Room of Requirement and send you out into the wild."

"It's about that actually. Since it is the Forbidden Forest, I was hoping you might
have some insight on whether or not we're going to face particular creatures or beasts out
there. I'd at least like to know whether or not to consider it."

Lupin chuckled to himself, a growling mimic that made Harry distinctly uncomfortable.

"You know, you're the second person to ask about that tonight," he said.

"The first was Granger, wasn't it?" Harry sourly asked.

"You would be right. Quite a competition the two of you are having."

"She's a stubborn one."

"A trait quite shared between the both of you. But you haven't come here to talk about
Gryffindors. I must admit I didn't think that either of you would come to me with such
questions," Lupin leaned back, the parchments in front of him forgotten.

With the teacher more basked in light, Harry was able to ascertain his features better. He
looked aged, whether it be from his curse or his profession Harry did not know. If Harry were a
betting man, which he wasn't since that title belonged to Blaise, he would say that Lupin was
most likely in his early forties by his appearance.

"I can say with quite certainty that there will be no surprises from my end. It was enough
work to secure that particular corridor and there were more than a few conversations with the
centaurs, but we have managed to keep it free of any stray creatures. That isn't to say we have
purged the area of all magical creatures, but any that would stand troublesome have been sought out
and relocated."

That was a relief for Harry. There was enough on his plate to worry about besides giant spiders
and Blast-Ended Skrewts. While Slytherin was far from trained or disciplined enough to encourage
optimism on Harry's part, any potential obstacles removed was a tick in his favor.

"You seemed relieved," Lupin said with a feral smile.

"One less thing to worry about," Harry responded.

Lupin fixed him with a stare as intense as a predator in the night. Every light that flickered
against his sandy hair cast him in an ominous shadow. His intense gaze unnerved Harry and he kept
his eyes low, aware that if Snape was capable of using Legilimency against students, why
wouldn't Lupin use it either?

"Well, thank you professor..."

Harry pushed back from his seat, still not meeting the Creatures teacher's eyes. As he
turned to leave, he heard Lupin's sandy voice behind him.

"I went to school with your parents."

There was a strange opening in his mind, a fresh strike of blood that wounded a long dormant
emotion he had buried within him. He had not so much as thought of his parents because, truthfully,
he did not know them. How was he supposed to relate to people he had never met? There was no innate
drive to find out who they were because anything that would be discovered was likely to fill him
with pain and sorrow.

"Did you?" Harry asked tactfully, on guard. *Is this another test? Is this something
Snape is making him do?*

"Yes. It's striking how much you're like them...and how much you're
not."

He knew that his parents were both Gryffindors. Mild curiosity and an endless array of yearbooks
provided an easy answer for that. His Mum was noted with quite high honors amongst other awards
while his Dad was a talented Quidditch Chaser with equal but less marks. They were one of the last
classes before the switch in curriculum at Hogwarts. They were certainly proud Hogwarts alumni, but
beyond that, Harry had never bothered to research.

"Were you in Gryffindor too?" Harry couldn't help but ask.

"Yes I was. I knew them very well, in their time. It's a shame what happened to
them." Lupin's voice fell until it was just a soft caress, no longer the wolfish,
intimidating tone of previous.

Harry felt awkward, conserving with the professor beyond educational terms. He also felt
uncomfortable because it was becoming increasingly aware that professor Lupin knew them very well
judging by the nostalgic look on his face. A sudden urge to perform *Legilimens* overtook
Harry, but he quelled it down. No doubt a Hogwarts educator could detect the use of Legilimency.
Lupin would take none too kindly to that.

"I'm sorry too," Harry responded. The Granger part of his brain manipulated
control for a moment and asked, "Why am I not like them?"

*Why did I ask that?*

Lupin laughed, the soft growl raising the hairs on the back of Harry's neck.

"You're a lot smarter for one! Well, you take your studies much more seriously than
James ever did. Perhaps you're a lot like Lily, but even she didn't tackle things with such
laser like intensity. You - you're incredible to watch, Harry. Don't think the teachers
haven't been keeping their eyes on you."

Harry didn't even flush from the compliment. He didn't know the professor well enough to
know if this was another one of Snape's manipulations or whether he was being genuine. Had
Snape brought him here because of his connections with his parents? For Harry, it was best to keep
his guard up.

"Thank you, sir, but I'm just doing the best I can."

"Yes." Lupin's smile slid away for a moment. "I suspect you are. Do you want
a word of advice Harry?"

It was unsolicited but Harry supposed that he didn't really have a choice in the matter.
"Sure."

"You're powerful. Some would say that you're one of the most powerful wizards to
walk through here since...well...in a while. I think even you're beginning to get a grasp of
that. Your equals, few that they are, fear you with the healthy exception of Granger of
course."

Harry scowled at her name.

"You win matches single handedly. Younger students are in awe of you. Older students would
like nothing more than to write you off as another young upstart, but they've seen the replays
of your duels. They know you're a force to be reckoned with. Unfortunately, Harry, that
isn't enough. You can be as powerful as the next Merlin but that doesn't mean anything if
you're not able to rally your House."

Harry started actively raising his Occlumency shields, spooked by the fact that Lupin had spoken
so close to home.

"I sense you have a bigger challenge ahead of you than you've faced all year. Things
are coming to a head this semester and you're in the center of it. Now, you can continue trying
to tackle the whole subject with your magic at hand. You've certainly shown more than your fair
share of improvisation and flair in duels and matches. Yet, you have to consider that it's not
the magic that makes the wizard. It's the wizard that makes the magic. It comes from
*you*, Harry. Everything comes from you - not just the magic. You'll have to lead,
you'll have to instruct, you'll have to bear the burden of the House on your
shoulders."

"Why are you telling me this?"

Lupin leaned forward, his sandy hair falling on his forehead and the lean muscles of his
forearms and shoulders suddenly showing from beneath his robes. It was a hint of the beast that
lied within. He lifted a hand and pointed a solitary finger at Harry. His gaze was intense, a deep
fire within those brown eyes.

"Because it's going to be you, Harry. You have to be more than a wizard. You have to be
more than just one of the brightest and strongest minds to go through Hogwarts in generations. You
have to be more than just a Third Year Slytherin."

Lupin paused, licking his lips as if Harry was a poor fowl and Lupin was in his full transformed
state.

"You have to be the leader, Harry, because no one else can."

* * * * *

Blaise Zabini slid from alcove to alcove, quietly navigating the upper corridors of Hogwarts. It
was still quite a distance to return to the Slytherin Common Room but with the task finished at
hand, he was ready to return. It was well past midnight as his task had taken longer than he
originally planned. Frankly, it wasn't even *his* task. It was Potter's task bestowed
upon him, but he understood why he had to do it. The victory in two day's time in the Forest
counted on it.

While he would probably only receive detention and a stern talking to if he was caught, Blaise
didn't want to bother holding a conference with the headmaster. If any of the stories were true
about him, the headmaster would have more than just punishment waiting for Blaise. There were myths
and rumors that Snape could read minds or that he was an incarnation of the Dark Lord. One of the
more ridiculous rumors was that Snape was a bat, but that was just silly.

"Then again, he could be an Animagus," Blaise muttered to himself as he wrapped his
cloak tight around him.

Bypassing an older couple snogging in a broom closet, Blaise held his breath as a pair of
footsteps clattered around the corner. Pressing himself against the wall of an alcove, he cast a
Disillusionment charm over himself. It was one of the few spells he could perform with some
regularity though it was above their grade level. Still, it came rather handy in scrupulous
times.

Not bothering to confirm the identity of this would be patrol, Blaise emerged from the alcove
and crossed a set of rotating staircases, by the far the riskiest part of his journey. There was no
hiding if a teacher of Prefect caught him and there was nothing to be done to get around it. As he
carefully jumped from one staircase to another, he was struck by the thought of how convenient it
would be if he could fly.

"If Snape really is an Animagus, then I'm fucked."

There were only two more flights left to travel and neither of them had an exposed staircase
that led downwards. Blaise had made this journey several times before, though for much different
reasons. Nonetheless, he was adept at sneaking around - a predictably Slytherin trait of his. He
was almost at the staircase that would lead towards the basements when a hand snatched out and
yanked him backwards.

Instinctively reaching for his wand, Blaise had it at the attacker's throat in a flash,
showcasing quick reflexes that none of his classmates would have thought he had.

"Take it easy, Zabini."

Justin Finch-Fletchley raised his hands to signal no wand, a half-smile on his round face.
Blaise narrowed his eyes at the Hufflepuff, instantaneously aware of his surroundings. Subtly
checking his corners, Blaise determined that Justin was alone - or at least appeared alone.

"What's the hurry?" Justin mockingly asked.

Blaise lowered his wand but kept a tight grip on it. "Leave it be, Justin."

The Slytherin walked backwards in dismissal, never taking his eyes off the deceptively dangerous
Hufflepuff. Blaise, of all people, knew exactly how conniving Justin could be. It took a certain
kind of determination to do what Justin had done on the roof of that building against Harry.

"What are you doing out so late? You don't look like you're coming from the
Slytherin Common Room."

"I caught a craving for some scones. Luckily, the elves love me."

"We both know you weren't in the kitchens. Come on, Zabini, what were you doing
out?" Justin approached him, still without a wand in sight, yet Blaise was fearful
nonetheless.

"You caught me," Blaise feigned sadness. "Mandy Brocklehurst was showing me of
that revered flexibility."

Justin laughed quietly, the sound oddly ringing in the empty halls. Blaise took another look
around, fearful that a teacher would emerge around the corner and ask him some harder questions.
Worst yet, what if Snape showed up?

"You and I both know that there's nothing true of the sort. The last time we were both
around in the middle of the night, it didn't have anything to do with Ravenclaws...or
Hufflepuffs...or Gryffindors..."

"Fancy that, looks like I should be getting to bed." The word were light, but the
snarl at the end of Blaise's voice indicated he wanted nothing else to do with this
conversation. He even went so far as to turn his back and proceed down the staircase, but Justin
sliced through him with a verbal knife.

"Imagine what Potter's face would look like if he knew you were one of the ones that
beat him up?"

Blaise took two large strides towards the Hufflepuffs, easily gaining ground and pinning him
against the wall with his wand at his throat. Justin chuckled and raised his eyebrows at him,
waggling them with suggestion.

"I don't even *remember* that night," Blaise hissed.

"Yet you were still there, something that surprised us all. You say you don't remember,
but it takes some effort to join in even if you pussied out of all the hard work."

"Shut up! Just shut your filthy, fucking mouth," Blaise snarled.

Justin laughed again, finding some sick humor from the situation. "Temper, Zabini.
Don't want the teachers hearing us."

Blaise pushed him against the wall, making sure the Hufflepuff's sandy blond hair pressed
tightly against the uneven stone. With a final push, Blaise dropped him, ashamed of his
participation during that night and angry at Justin for re-opening old wounds. In truth, he only
had a hazy memory of the attack on Harry, but he was undoubtedly there. Afterwards, he had kept to
himself for quite some time, displaying the acting skills that his mother had employed time and
time again with her different suitors. Blaise couldn't even answer why he had participated but
the fact that he did without explanation wouldn't bode well with Harry.

"You shut up about that or I'll have your bloody head."

"Relax, Zabini. I won't tell anyone about your little secret. Just as long as you tell
me what Potter has been up to lately," Justin offered.

Blaise stepped back, disgusted to be within arm's reach of Justin. "I'm not telling
you shit."

Turning around, he resolutely walked away, not caring what the Hufflepuff would say. They were
words of poison, designed to inflict doubt and shame upon him. He would do Harry proud by standing
up to Justin, even if it meant Harry discovering what he had done. Blaise could still hear
Justin's last words ringing along the staircase, following him all the way to the Slytherin
Common Room.

"Our little secret!"

* * * * *

"Do you think we could have done it differently?"

"Perhaps. We could have trained him. We could have specialized his studies. We could have
done numerous things, but we don't know everything. Besides, it matters not what he learns or
what he knows. If that were the case, all of our previous trials would have fared much
better."

"Do you not think of us as cruel? The road ahead of him is filled with so much
darkness."

"He needs the motivation. He needs the drive. Great wizards don't become who they are
*just* because of learning and training, else the Muggleborn girl would be the greatest witch
in generations since Rowena Ravenclaw."

"I know a little of great wizards and witches."

"Then you should know that it is the inner fuel that will drive the boy. It is that hatred
and the anger that will push him towards greatness. He won't become great if he's just
content. He needs an instigator."

"Maybe he doesn't. Maybe he needs nourishment."

"A pittance. A small reprieve of what he has to face. Yes, the road ahead of him is filled
with darkness but it is only by looking over his shoulder and seeing the monster in the background
that causes motivation. That is to say, that will be his greatest motivator - not some pithy need
to save the world."

"They are one in the same in this instance."

"What is the point of this discussion? We have set out on the road before us and there is
no turning or back tracking. We must continue on this path or face certain disaster if we
stray."

"I am not saying we should stray, but the path is far from certain. The boy will grow in
his own way and there will come a time when your *influence* will not be so on him."

"Perhaps. For now, we will mold him. Like all other things, we shall burn that bridge when
we cross it. We have two days ti discover if our work has been for naught."

"You place great importance on this impending match."

"The ingredients have been delicately added and the mixture properly brewed. All that is
left is to see the results of our work."

* * * * * *

**A/N: The next chapter will be the big forest fight and the following 4 chapters will conclude
the Third Year. I am very excited to announce that I will continue writing the Fourth Year and it
will be within this same story. I apologize for missing the estimated update time, it has been a
hectic month. Hopefully, I can keep my word for this next update time. Once again, THANK YOU for
all your reviews and I look forward to reading them.**

**Estimated update time: 20 days**
 Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7
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20. The Bringer of Lightning
----------------------------



*“**I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total
obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has
gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be
nothing...Only I will remain.” -*Bene Gesserit Litany

* * * * *

“There are four Houses here. The four Houses of Hogwarts represent more than just division among
students. Each stand as a pillar of our beliefs. Do not take this task lightly. You are being asked
to present your House with honor and pride. Through the vestiges of time and the ruin of the winds
and the rain, the four Houses have stood for more than a century. Do your House proud and enlist
the full forces of your power within this match.”

Professor Trow spoke with such ease and authority for a sick and frail man. A silence fell over
the Third Years as the gray-haired professor of Strategy spoke. They were in the courtyard of
Hogwarts, blocks of students separated into four distinct groups.

In one group, a towering redhead stood above all others, a golden lion stitched onto his tight
fitting, gray clothing. A small brunette stood in the center of the group, her eyes oddly distant
and her back turned towards the cluster in the far corner of the courtyard. There, green snakes
adorned their clothing. In the center, a skinny boy with unkempt dark hair and bright green eyes
stared at her back. To the other corners were a group of boys and girls with a yellow and black
badger crest. The others were wearing ravens along their chests.

“Each of the Houses will have a Portkey.” Professor McGonagall made a circuit to each House, her
face strict and unpleasant. Each Portkey was a replica of their House representation. Attached
along the side was a wide ring that could be easily grasped.

“When signaled, each member of the House will grab onto the railing. The Portkey will be
activated when every member of the House is attached. From there, you will land in your designated
points and commence the match,” Professor Flitwick announced.

“You are tasked with defeating all of the other Houses. The last remaining member from the last
remaining House will claim victor of this match,” Professor Moody spoke gruffly.

“You are only eliminated if you are Stunned. Please note that you are still active *even if
you don't have your wand*,” Professor Lupin emphasized. “So that goes for both sides. Make
sure your opponent is Stunned if you want him to be eliminated from the match. We will take care of
the rest.”

“Finally, there is some leeway given regarding the severity of your curses. This is a live
simulation and will be treated as such. Make no mistake, we will be watching,” Headmaster Snape
finished.

Almost all of the teachers in the core curriculum were present, save for Professor Slughorn. He
was left with temporary administrative duties while the Third Years competed in this match. It was
just after noon, the sun hanging high in the sky and the brisk wind keeping an otherwise balmy day
cool. Harry knew that this match was of some importance since even the professors looked quite
nervous.

“Houses, please gather,” McGongall ordered.

It was an empty, however, as each House had already clustered into their respective groups.
Harry didn't miss the lingering glance Justin had on him as they separated nor did he ignore
the nervous atmosphere among his own Slytherins. Perhaps it wasn't wise to inform them of the
other House's intentions. There was a discernible jumpiness to every one of them that
wasn't going to suit Harry well.

In the middle of the Slytherin group, there was a silver snake with a wide ring encircling it.
Harry reached a hand out to grasp part of the ring, the cool silver cold against his hand.
Professor Lupin stood a bit further away from the proceedings, eying the silver articles
cautiously. To either side of Harry was Blaise and Tracey, resolute and grim expressions on both of
their faces.

“There is no time limit. The match will end when all other House members are eliminated,” Snape
announced.

The wind picked up, but the chilly blast didn't penetrate their weather-proof robes. Though
they would only stand certain temperatures, it was more than enough to handle the unusually warm
early spring. Extreme temperatures would test the charms on these particular robes, but they were
perfectly suited for today's environment. Harry felt strangely calm, matching the swaying of
the wind as he looked up right before Snape said the magic phrase to activate the Portkeys.

Eyes locked again as green met brown and Harry held his gaze until Snape said the words. Granger
stared right back at him, blank and cold, the mask of rationality and objectivity layered carefully
on her face. There was no turning back now.

“No fear.”

* * * * * *

The intense tugging sensation disoriented Harry for a moment as the Portkey activated. It felt
as if he were being yanked by the navel, straight into the air, and then thrown back down to the
ground at a rapid speed. Before he could even blink, he was splattered against dead leaves amongst
a clearing surrounded by wood and bushes.

Scrambling to his feet, Harry first made sure all his body parts were in place. The dizzying
sensation was still upon him and he swayed his feet, his small breakfast lurching in his stomach.
After verifying the existence of all his limbs, Harry did a head count to make sure all of the
Third Year Slytherins were present. Satisfied, Harry made his way to Tracey, who was still seated
on the ground, her head between her legs.

“You alright?” Harry asked, offering a hand to help her up.

“One second. I've never liked Portkeys,” said Tracey's muffled voice. After a moment,
she procured three vials from her pocket.

“What are those?” Blaise grumbled, brushing off dead leaves from his shoulder.

“Pepper-Up Potions,” Tracey answered. “Thought they might help us.”

“Aren't those Fifth Year potions?” Harry sounded impressed.

“Potions is the one thing I'm good at.” Tracey shrugged, handing each of them a vial and
downing her own. Harry quickly swallowed the potion and found himself feeling considerably
chipper.

“Okay. To me!” Harry ordered, trying to get a lay of the land.

The Slytherins grouped in formation, spread out in a semi-circle like they had practiced. It was
easy now to walk in formation. They weren't under duress from spells or attacks. Even the
usually unassailable Slytherins could manage this formation for a short period of time. It would
have to do for his plan.

Behind him, a wall of thick trees stood lined with sharp thorns and a denser bush between them.
It extended to either end as far as he could see. This must have been the artificial barrier Snape
and company provided. If the layouts in the map were correct, that would mean that Gryffindor was
due Northwest of their position. Ravenclaw would lie directly West while Hufflepuff would be to the
North.

“What now, Potter?” asked an unusually edgy Malfoy.

“Forward. Northwest.”

So with much trepidation in their part and a little bit of discomfort on Harry's, they
started navigating Northwest on a purposeful march. Harry gave constant orders to check
surroundings, rotating the array of students so that a different set were always on the front
lines. He kept Blaise and Tracey in the rear, trusting them to overtake some semblance of control
should he fall.

“Keep your eyes open,” Harry commanded, a stern timber to his voice.

For once, no one complained. Perhaps it was the tenseness of their situation that silenced their
often complaining voices. Every snap of a branch and creak of a tree was met with whipped heads and
raised wands and Harry was guilty of the same reaction. At any moment, they could run into
Hufflepuff or any one of the other Houses. Harry was gambling almost everything on this particular
movement.

“Keep forward.”

Once, Daphne jumped and dove to the ground when she swore she spotted the purple of Ravenclaw in
between trees. Harry had taken the time to pause and scan their surroundings, even using a few of
his unique trapping spells to ensure that if someone was moving within the shrubbery, they would
get caught. Once it was determined that there was no one there, they kept moving, but it was a sign
of things to come.

Every few minutes was punctuated by a silent hiss and a Slytherin pointing in a certain
direction if they saw movement. Their formation would be of no use if they were easily flanked, but
Harry was banking on the fact that the three Houses would regroup first. Since their initial
movement was towards Gryffindor, there was little chance their paths would cross. Furthermore,
Harry also hypothesized that neither of the Houses would send a student or two as a scout. Most
likely, they would want to be at full strength.

“Push on.”

As they progressed, Tracey fell into pace with him, matching his steps. Quietly, so as only
Harry could hear, she asked, “Do you think this is the right call?”

“It's as good as call as any,” Harry answered. “Surprise them while we can.”

Tracey nodded but still looked unsatisfied. “In theory, your plan sounds good. Hit them with an
initial attack and then progressively retreat and make them come after us. Then splinter into
groups to have them chasing us and keep them in front of us. Still...”

“It'll work out,” Harry cut her off.

Tracey nodded, her blue eyes cast towards the ground as she paused any other questions she might
have had. Harry ordered a rotation, moving Crabbe and Goyle to the forefront while withdrawing
Malfoy and Pansy behind them. In truth, much of this was a farce. Harry knew exactly what was going
to happen when they made contact and it wouldn't be pretty. There was a considerably high
chance that it would all fail.

He made eye contact with Blaise and the dark skinned boy nodded back at him. There was little
they could do now but wait.

“Contact,” Pansy hissed.

They fell into a simultaneous crouch as Harry's eyes scanned the perimeter. There was a
definite nervousness in the air as the forest surrounded them. Harry noticed a flicker of movement
out of the corner of his eye and judging by the lack of reaction, no one else did. Tightly gripping
his wand, Harry stood up and gave the order.

“Press forward.”

The Slytherins stood up cautiously, their wands now raised in front of them though not in
dueling position just yet. Every step felt like walking into a trap and even the dimmest of
Slytherins were not ignorant of this fact. Their head movements became faster, their march slowing
down to a turtling speed as cautiousness got the best of them.

“Forward,” Harry more urgently ordered.

They picked up the pace, but the formation was starting to scatter. Gaps were showing between
the lines and Harry had to order them back into position. It would be no use if they were struck by
a surprise spell that would send everything into chaos. He needed to keep control of the
situation.

“Harry, we're getting close,” Tracey said as she looked down on the map. “If I'm right,
we're about as close as we can get to the Gryffindor position without revealing ourselves. They
have to be just ahead.”

Harry nodded. “Okay. Forward.”

Tracey looked at him incredulously then down at the map then back at him. “But Harry...”

“I said forward.” There was a finality in his tone.

Malfoy overheard this conversation and grumbled, “This fucking bullshit. Going to get us
slaughtered, Potter.”

*In truth, you might be right*. Harry didn't voice his thoughts aloud, but determinedly
lead the way, setting the pace as they barreled on ahead. Tracey looked distraught and discontent
beside him, but stowed the map as it was of little use now. The alliance of Houses was surely up
ahead unless it was all a clever trap by Justin, sending Susan over to them. While he didn't
put it past the conniving Hufflepuff to do so, Harry trusted his instincts.

The paths were starting to clear and there was a rustling ahead. Harry pressed onwards, eyes and
ears at full attention as he sensed combat ahead. Harry didn't know if it was his heightened
senses, or passive Occlumency, or pure adrenaline that alerted him of the presence ahead. It was
probably some combination thereof, but he was in no mood to analyze which.

“Contact,” Harry said.

Indeed, there was a group in the clearing ahead, meeting in a haphazard way. Judging by the
sheer numbers, Susan and Luna were correct. There was well over one House in this clearing. Harry
couldn't see all of them, but he would have bet all of Blaise's Galleons that his
hypothesis was vindicated.

“Oh hell,” Pansy moaned. “It is all three Houses.”

Harry nodded along, focused on one target in particular.

“What do we do now, Potter?” Nott asked.

Harry was about to answer when a voice from behind him answered instead.

“What to do indeed?”

Justin Finch-Fletchley smiled as he emerged from the trees, accompanied by a spatter of
Ravenclaws and Gryffindors. The large group in the clearing suddenly stopped milling around, all
focusing their attention in the direction of the Slytherins the tree line.

They were irreversibly fucked.

* * * * *

“Come on, come on! Hand over your wands!”

They were surrounded as the larger group in the modest clearing suddenly sprinted towards them,
wands raised. The rear facing group consisting of Justin and a matching smattering of Ravenclaws
and Gryffindors had them pinned in the crossfire. Still, the Slytherins came together back to back.
Wands jerked to and fro as the thirty or so other students surrounded them.

“Tell them to put down the wands, Potter!” bellowed Ron Weasley.

Eyes jerked towards the raven haired boy. He was in the center as the Slytherins had
unconsciously surrounded him to keep him in the middle. Nevertheless, they would never survive this
onslaught. They were in close range surrounded by a numerically superior force with little cover or
advantage. It was a trap.

“Tell them, Potter!” Padma Patil's voice rang out.

Harry was solely focused on Justin, the tiny smirk at the edge of his lips infuriating him. How
he would have liked nothing more than to wipe that smirk off his face. No doubt Justin wasn't
courageous enough to face him one on one. Such a duel would no doubt be tipped in Harry's favor
and even the Hufflepuff might have suspected it so. In the cover of so many supporters though,
Justin grew strong and could whip up the crowd.

“You've lost, Slytherins!” Justin addressed the whole group instead of just Harry. “Your
fearless leader couldn't see a trap even as he was wrapping the noose around his neck!”

The Slytherins cast darting glances at the Boy-Who-Lived, looking to him for instruction. Even
Draco, armed with an expression of pure disgust, chanced a glance at Harry to see what the
direction was. Harry made no move, however, keeping his eyes solely focused on Justin. Licking his
lips, Harry looked around, spotting all of the familiar faces he had dueled and fought against.

“We're putting down our wands!” Harry announced.

A ripple of gasps ran through some of the Slytherins at such an easy capitulation. Harry made a
show of raising his off hand in the air and then raising his wand hand. The wands focused on him
jerked upwards, but Harry held the tip of his wand loosely, signifying defeat.

“I'll get it,” Neville Longbottom bundled forward, conjuring a bag for the displaced
wands.

Justin laughed as he watched the portly Gryffindor stumble forward. “Look at that, Potter. Now
it's Neville that's going to be taking your wand.”

Longbottom stepped forward, his eyes still downcast and not as combative as when they had met in
the hallway. Harry symbolically stepped forward and without meeting Longbottom's eyes, placed
his wand inside the bag. Looking around at the shocked Slytherins, Harry motioned for them to do
the same.

“Go on then,” he said coolly. “No need in yourselves getting hurt over this.”

One by one, as if in disbelief that they had finally lost, the Slytherins took turns placing
their wands in the bag. For some, like Malfoy it was far more difficult to succumb to such a lowly
Gryffindor. He practically snarled at Longbottom, but to the Gryffindor's credit, he didn't
flinch. At last, all of the Slytherins were disarmed and stood in the center of this pow wow.

“Move it along!” Justin jerked his head, forcing the group to move into the clearing.

The pack shuffled along, defeated and disconsolate as they helplessly watched the three Houses
gather together in front of them. It was hard to describe the feeling a wizard had without their
wand. It was a nakedness, an emptiness that longed to be filled. Tracey wrapped her arms tight
around her body, disappointedly looking at Harry.

“Why didn't you listen to me?” she asked as they were moved to the center of the
clearing.

Harry looked at her, a pained expression behind his glasses. “I'm sorry, Tracey. This is
just the plan.”

Tracey shook her head and her disappointment struck a hurtful pang in Harry. He didn't quite
realize how upsetting her disappointment would be. Nonetheless, this was the plan and he had to
stick to it. Looking around, he realized that Padma, Blaise, and Ron were gathering in front of
them.

“So how are we going to do this? Should we just stun all of them and then declare a truce to
regroup our Houses and then proceed forward?” Padma asked, her hands on her hips.

“Sounds fair,” Justin agreed. “What do you think, Ron?”

“Good to me,” Ron said shortly.

Justin glanced at Harry, who was still mutely glaring at him. The anger bubbling within
Harry's chest consumed him as he watched Justin prance around as if he owned the forest.
Everyone else was in a semi-circle surrounding the Slytherins while the three leaders convened, but
Harry kept his eyes solely focused on Justin, the animosity evident to anyone around them.

“Don't look so glum, Potter,” Justin scoffed. “Hermione had you perfectly pegged. Said you
would be headstrong and rush straight towards us.”

Tracey came alive with a gasp and a step forward. “Why you stupid little bitch!”

Granger coolly regarded Tracey, her face as impassive as always. “Shut it, Davis.”

Tracey looked at Granger and then back at Harry, her face a mixture of hatred and convulsion.
Harry kept his jaw tight, glancing away from Tracey in an attempt to avoid her humiliating gaze.
Harry could practically hear Tracey ask, “Why did you trust her?”

Unable to look at his best friend, Harry watched the conversation in front of him unfold. Padma
and Justin were still squabbling over the terms of Slytherin's impending defeat and how they
would fairly split up their forces afterwards to avoid a free-for-all. Neither of them trusted each
other enough to just stun the Slytherins and walk away from the problem. In the meanwhile, the
other members of the respective coalition milled about, the Gryffindors near the back.

“The easiest way is to just Stun them one by one and then call a truce over it,” Justin
explained.

“And how do I know you won't just Stun us as soon as they're finished.” Padma was
proving to be a tough negotiator.

“I came to you with this plan, didn't I?”

“And it would be just like you to turn it around on us.”

“Well, I can't exactly do that with Gryffindor here, can I” Jason rebutted.

Padma looked lingeringly at Weasley and Granger and finally turned to her sister. She called her
twin over to discuss something in private while Justin rolled his eyes at the pair of girls. The
Hufflepuff turned his attention towards Harry again, that lazy smile returning to his pudgy
face.

“Pretty good, right Potter?”

As Padma and Ron discussed the terms of Slytherin's surrender, Justin walked right up to
Harry, nose to nose as he was of equal height. Wandless, Harry could do nothing but glare back,
silently steaming over the Hufflepuff's impetuousness. Justin must have known for this, but his
mocking smile disappeared. Instead, a vicious and cold look overtook his face.

“I'm going to win, Potter,” Justin whispered so that only Harry could hear. “You're
nothing special, Potter.”

The phrase echoed inside Harry's skull, further igniting the fire within. Harry held his
gaze, his green eyes glossing over and seeing past Justin. Hermione stood off to the back, watching
Justin and Harry with a regarded approach. Beside her, the remaining Gryffindors were also situated
towards the backs of the rest of the students.

“Agreed upon then!” Padma clapped her hands together after finishing her discussion with Ron and
Parvati. “We'll stun them and go our separate ways. After that, we can begin in earnest.”

Justin walked backwards, his eyes never leaving Harry's. “Sounds good to me.”

The Hufflepuff boy raised his wand. “On your knees, Slytherins.”

It was a move made to embarrass them, an overt act of submission that would only further the
sting of defeat. The Slytherins shuffled around, pride taking control of them as not one made a
move to lower their posture. Flicking his wand, Justin cast a Stinging Hex towards Tracey.

She hissed as it stung her arm, dropping down in one knee from the pain. Blaise stepped forward,
yelling “Oi!”

“I said get down,” Justin reminded them coldly.

Harry looked at Tracey, the numbness spreading like a spider web throughout his body. He
didn't know he could feel so much pain. He didn't know he could feel the regret of this
plan. He didn't know how much he could feel Tracey's acute hurt. He didn't know how
angry this could possibly make him.

“Let's get this on with,” Padma grumbled as Ron slinked towards the back.

There they were, the Slytherins kneeling in the middle of the clearing in the woods. The sun
hung high above them, nary a cloud in sight. Only the slight refractions of the beams of light
streaking through the branches made any shadows. Gathered in a semi-circle, the Houses of
Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor surrounded the green contingent.

If there was an oddity, it was that the almost all of the Gryffindors were towards the back of
the antagonizing group.

Padma strode towards the front, casting a weary look at Harry. The Slytherin had no doubt that
she was part of Justin's plot, but she didn't seem to share the same virile attitude
towards him. Instead, Padma looked at him appraisingly, with cautious but respectful approval.
Still, her hand in this backstabbing plot proved her cunning.

“Do you want the honors, Justin?” she asked him sarcastically.

The feral grin on his face was answer enough. The Hufflepuff took one step forward, separating
himself from the others in obvious fashion. This was to be his crowning moment. The undefeated
Slytherins were at his mercy and were powerless to stop him. Harry could feel the nervousness and
anger flowing from his fellow house mates.

If only they could feel his anger.

Justin looked at Harry in the eye, his wand slowly rising. “To think, this is how the mighty
Harry Potter and his undefeated Slytherins will fall - on their knees without so much as a spell
shot off between them.”

The Hufflepuff boy stood there, his blond hair perched on his brow with a bit of curl. Harry was
on his knees, staring up at him with no small measure of contempt. The staggered positioning
reminded Harry of that dark, moonless night. They were not within the Forbidden Forest. Instead,
they were within the supposed safety of the hallways of Hogwarts. Four bullies stood above a cowed
and damaged boy. They were taunting him, kicking him, degrading him.

In this moment, Harry understood with great clarity what was supposed to happen. All of these
days and weeks had been leading to this moment. The paths might have crossed where they should have
not and the origins were far from the same, but they all led to this clearing in this forest. It
was a giant puzzle, coming together and providing Harry with some lucidity once and for all and in
this moment, he felt no fear.

There was only anger.

Harry raised his arms wide and to either side of his body. Justin hesitated, his wand paused
over them. Silence overtook the clearing like a blanket over a fire. Harry matched the
Hufflepuff's curious stare, his body completely exposed and his arms reaching towards an
invisible force to either side.

“What are you doing, Potter?”

Harry looked at Justin, *knowing* what he had to do.

“No fear,” Harry answered.

*Only anger.*

And he finally met Hermione's eye. She was standing behind several people, but could still
see him even as he was kneeling down. The rest of the Gryffindors were arranged in a similar
fashion, to the rear of the rest of the students. It was time for their plan to come alive.

She raised her wand subtly and pointed it at him. He knew the spell without having to hear it.
It was the one they had agreed to prior. The spell hit him immediately and he could feel her
presence in his mind. Then, he heard it. It wasn't a forceful command or a rallying cry. It
wasn't panicked or excited. It was a firm, gentle caress. It was as if she had grasped onto
him, rolling him in a tight embrace as she whispered the word into his ear.

*Now.*

* * * * * *

No one had the same account of what exactly happened.

Everyone agreed that after Harry spoke, he clapped his hands over his head. Everyone also agreed
on what happened afterwards. There was a loud boom as if a thunderclap had descended upon them, but
that was impossible since there was not a cloud in the distance.

What almost no one could explain was what happened after the roar from the sky.

Ron Weasley swore that Potter had somehow used a Time Turner to steal a wand and that his second
self was waiting in the forest and cast a spell over them. Lavender Brown said a burst of light
filled the clearing and somehow Potter was in her mind. Parvati Patil saw none of this as the
concussion had forced her onto the ground. Susan Bones described something akin to lightning in a
bottle but couldn't see anything else because of the brightness. Neville Longbottom swore on
his grandmother's not-too-soon grave that a phoenix had risen from *within* Harry.

Draco Malfoy protested that it was actually he who had casted the spell as he had somehow hidden
his wand. Of course, no one else could validate that claim but Malfoy persisted. Theodore Nott
claimed there was a bright light that turned everyone momentarily blind. Gregory Goyle cowered
against the ground when he felt the concussion wave pass through him and thus saw nothing. Daphne
Greengrass saw Harry clap his hands over his head, but the resulting sound boom forced her to the
ground. Pansy Parkinson thought it was all a conspiracy and that the teachers had helped Harry
out.

Mandy Brocklehurst thought Potter summoned his wand wandlessly and had cast a spell that was
above their grade level. Hannah Abbott thought it was all nonsense and that obviously someone else
besides Harry had cast this spell that rendered everyone blind, deaf, *and* dumb. Dean Thomas
intimidated that centaurs had come from the forest, annoyed at their temporary displacement, yet
couldn't explain the bright light. Seamus Finnegan had used his hand to shield the light from
his eyes and told anyone within earshot that light was pouring out of Harry's eyes, mouth, and
ears.

But one person saw it all.

She had unflinchingly watched because she knew what was *supposed* to happen but honestly
couldn't believe it until she saw it for herself. This was their tentative and crazy plan. Lure
everyone into one area so that they were all in sight. Then, Harry would cast the spell he had been
working on all year. In the resulting confusion, Hermione and the rest of the Gryffindors would
attack the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws while they were caught off guard. After that instance, it was
every House for themselves.

Hermione had her doubts on whether or not Harry could actually come through with a spell that he
was supposed to create. Couple it with the fact that he would most likely do it wandless and
Hermione wanted to relay him a message that his plan would statistically fail. Still, there was not
much she could do after she received the message from Blaise Zabini of all people. He had come in
the night, a message of importance carried with him. She had the dark Slytherin repeat it twice
because she was convinced the first telling was just a tall tale. After that, it took some
considerable cajoling on her part to attack the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws after Ron m ade the
deal. It took telling Neville the truth behind the cave to get him on board, but it had worked. It
was cunning and backstabbing and not one of them felt happy with themselves, but that was the price
of winning.

So she kept her eyes open as Harry clapped his hands over his head. The key to the spell would
be an innate understanding of *exactly* what he wanted to do. She saw the magic around his
hands form and watched as it sped towards Justin, but she didn't expect the concussive wave of
magic that forced her to kneel on the ground. Still, she kept her eyes focused on the dark haired
boy with round eyeglasses. The magic jumped from Justin to Padma. Then, it arced towards Ernie
MacMillan. Hermione watched as it kept going and going, jumping from one student to another. She
watched in awe as it struck almost fifteen people, the light blinding at this point as the
interconnected beams of magic held together for a majestic second.

Then, it snapped.

Everyone connected to the spell was lifted off their feet, spiraling and twisting in mid-air.
Another sonic boom threatened to shatter her ear drums and Hermione had to clap her hands over her
ears at the awesome sound. In the end, fifteen students were crumpled on the ground unconscious and
a few trees had embers in their branches. In the middle of it all was Harry, kneeling with his
hands still clapped over his head and an almost imperceptible shield of magic around him. A thin
sheet of sweat covered his face as he breathed heavily with his eyes closed. Harry opened his eyes
slowly and looked at her, green meeting brown.

It was glorious.

It was powerful.

It was beautiful.

* * * * *

He was tired.

Harry felt as if Dudley had taken him onto one of those Muggle thrill rides that rocketed you up
and down and forced him to ride it hundreds of times. Fatigue was sewn into every muscle in his
body, but there was still one more thing he had to do or it was all for naught. Looking at
Longbottom, Harry reached out his wand and focused all of his magic into one last spell, using his
Occlumency to tunnel it all towards this purpose.

“*Accio bag!”*

The bag of wands that Longbottom had collected lurched and Harry panicked as he thought he
failed for a moment. Then, it popped into the air, hurtling end over end until it plopped in front
of him. The last iota of magic left him and Harry collapsed onto all fours, breathing heavily as
sweat perspired down his back.

“Blaise, wands!” Harry croaked, his vision swimming.

Blaise scrambled forwards, his ears still ringing as his hands fumbled along the grass for the
leather pouch. Grasping it between his fingers, Blaise procured his own wand first, managing to
toss the bags to the rest of his house mates as he looked around.

Harry tried to stand up but his knees weren't cooperating. It was as if someone had placed a
Jelly-Legs jinx on him. He faltered and cough as his vision blurred and he had to settle himself
once more as he heard the commotion start to rise around him. There was shouting in the distance
and in the back of his mind, he knew that it was only a matter of time before the other students
got to their feet.

Tracey retrieved her wand, the magic buzz radiating through her as the feeling of unification
washed over her. She stopped as she looked towards Harry, weak and still on all fours, looking
ready to pass out on the ground. Looking up, Tracey could see that the Gryffindors were on their
feet, stunning the remaining Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. Harry reached out and tried to say
something but failed yet again.

Her heart broke at the sight of this feeble act. There was no doubt he was the cause of all this
chaos and while Tracey didn't exactly know what had transpired, she knew enough that Harry had
given them a fighting chance from the jaws of defeat yet again. She would be damned if that was to
go to waste.

In a voice she didn't know she had, Tracey screamed, “*TO HARRY! RALLY TO HARRY!”*

Thankfully, Blaise echoed her cry. “*TO HARRY!”*

*“**TO HARRY! SHELL! SHELL! CLOSE RANKS!”*

Tracey crawled forward and pulled Harry backwards as the cries echoed throughout the rest of the
Slytherins. Even Malfoy, caught in the moment and filled with adrenaline screamed, “To Harry!”

The Slytherins came together in a perfectly formed shell, shields staggered so that they could
still attack. Tracey had to half carry, half drag Harry by his armpits as she continued to yell out
instructions, inspired by some emotion she knew she carried but refused to identify.

“Towards the tree line! Keep tight!”

The Gryffindors were mopping up few Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs left. Mandy Brocklehurst and
Susan Bones were putting up a fight but Granger was in the lead, directing them forward and leaving
one eye towards the retreating Slytherins. She spotted them in formation and barked some orders as
a slice of Gryffindors broke off and started pursuing them.

“Gryffindors ahead!” Blaise reported. “Spells incoming!”

Vines and leaves leaped up from around them, threatening to tie their legs down. Daphne and
Pansy struck back, severing the vines that threatened to constrict them. A few spells were traded
but the Gryffindors were reluctant to press. They opted for diversionary tactics, trying to slow
them down with tree vines and branches while peppering them with other offensive spells.

“Keep it tight!” Tracey ordered from the middle of the shell as they neared the tree line.
Hopefully, they could take some cover there and revive Harry.

They finally made it to the tree line, but even that was just a short reprieve. Harry's
spell had started fires in some of the trees and now those embers were leaping across the dried
leaves of the winter, fueling the fire and spreading it outwards. The Gryffindors halted their
pursuit as the Slytherins fell deeper into the forest until Tracey finally ordered them to
stop.

She laid Harry against the trunk of a tree, carefully leaning his head against it so he
wouldn't get any more injuries. Blaise finished the last of the perimeter defensives, setting
Slytherins up in a half circle facing Gryffindor's last position while leaving Daphne in the
rear to scout any flanking maneuvers. He walked over to Tracey, kneeling down in the dirt beside
her as she tried wipe away the sweat from Harry's brow.

“You didn't tell me you were going to do *that*!” Blaise exclaimed.

“Didn't know if it was going to work.” Harry said it, but it was almost a sigh and it was
barely above a whisper.

Cradling his face between her hands, Tracey looked him in the eye and asked, “Harry, are you
okay? We need you here.”

He nodded, but he did it with his eyes closed. “You need to get Granger.”

“We know, but is there something specific? What's our plan?”

Harry's head lolled to the side and Tracey struggled to keep his body upright.

“Get Granger,” he muttered. “Have to take her out...”

“I sincerely hope he means that in a tactical sense,” Blaise grumbled.

“What else would he mean?!” Tracey snapped.

“Nothing! Bloody hell!”

His first exclamation was addressed towards her, but his second yell was directed towards the
Gryffindors that had pressed forwards into the forest. Spells lit up the air around them as the
congested woodwork had the spells coming in hot. Tracey angrily fire a spell back towards them,
hoping that the stray would hit Granger.

A loud explosion rattled the ground as a tree trunk gave way to their right and croaked as the
bark splintered into thousands of pieces. It came falling towards them and Tracey scrambled to pull
Harry out of the way. By some divine intervention, the tree collapsed on an adjacent tree, staying
its descent. The spells resumed as a crackle of magic in the air whipped right over Tracey's
ear.

“Harry, tell us what to do?!” Tracey shouted over the roar of spells.

Harry gulped, struggling to hold his head up high. “You have to get Granger. Cut off the
head...”

“I sincerely hope *that* was figurative,” Blaise remarked as he dodged a Sidewinder Curse
that would have twisted his legs together.

“Shut up, Blaise!” Tracey screamed.

Manging to raise his arm and gently grab Tracey's shoulder, Harry brought her face close to
his.

“*You* have to get Granger.”

Tracey licked her lips as she saw the fatigue on Harry's face. “Harry...I know how strong
she is. What about you?”

Harry shook his head and collapsed against the trunk. His hand came up to pat his chest
twice.

“Nothing left.”

Tracey gulped, nodding as the realization dawned on her that Harry was genuinely exhausted of
all his magic. Resolving to keep him under cover, Tracey picked him from under his shoulder,
lifting his body so he would be behind Slytherin's cover. As she dragged him towards the
destined spot, she heard a shout from Blaise.

“*TRACEY, WATCH OUT!”*

The snap of a tree branch alerted her to the danger as someone sent a Cutting Hex towards it.
With Harry near unresponsive, she did the only thing she could and pushed him out of the way,
rolling her body along the ground so that the main limb of the tree avoided crushing her. The
tertiary branches scratched her face as she wildly looked around for Harry. Finally spotting him,
she called out to him, telling him to take cover. Harry didn't seem to know where he was as he
was still on his feet, clearly unsteady and lurching to and fro.

“Harry!” Tracey yelled, reaching a hand out through the branches in a helpless act to get to
him.

The Stunner smashed into his chest, lifting him off his feet. His expression was one of
gratefulness as unconsciousness slipped over him and he was out even before his body collapsed
against the dead leaves of the forest. Fighting her way out from under the tree limb, Tracey raced
towards her fallen friend. Aside from being unconscious, Harry seemed to be okay yet the
psychological loss of him hit her hard.

She looked towards the pitched battle and spotted Blaise looking back at them in shock. His eyes
had grown big and the white contrasted with the darkness of his skin. They fluttered from Tracey to
Harry, seemingly unbelieving of what happened. Tracey looked over his shoulder and spotted
Granger's bushy mane peeking out from behind a tree.

The Gryffindors were slowly gaining ground as Granger started slashing the tree branches above
their head to scatter and possibly injure them. One branch caught Daphne across the head, knocking
her unconscious and providing a deep bruise and cut along the brow of her head. The Slytherins were
unable to get a foot hold on some cover as every fallen tree branch scattered them. Tracey looked
at that stupid bushy hair and saw red.

After making sure Harry was physically okay, she rose up and walked towards the front lines.
Pointing her wand in the air, Tracey bellowed at the top of her lungs while shooting sparks in the
air.

“*BREAK RANKS!* **ATTACK!”**

Still shooting wildly colored sparks in the air, Tracey ran forward, sprinting over fallen tree
trunks and scattered branches. The Gryffindors were seemingly in shock from the sudden attack and
Tracey was heartened to hear Blaise's voice behind her.

“*ATTACK! WAAAAAH!”*

His guttural yell almost made her laugh at the absurdity of the situation. There they were, two
Slytherins sprinting across no man's land right into the hands of the Gryffindors that sought
to defeat them. Yet, Tracey only had one goal and it was to fulfill Harry's request. She was
going to take out Granger with every ounce of magic she had within her.

The remaining Slytherins, the six of them still standing, matched Blaise's enthusiasm and
jumped from their cover as they yelled nonsense in a psychological ploy to frighten the
Gryffindors. Even Draco Malfoy, he of who little enthusiasm or inspiration, ran step for step as he
screamed at the top of his lungs.

“*FOR SLYTHERIN!”*

Malfoy placed a foot on a fallen tree trunk and launched himself into the air, his body floating
there for a split second with a mad look on his face and his wand slashing downwards with an
unknown spell.

He was promptly hit by a Stunner in the chest, collapsing him mid-flight as he landed awkwardly
on the ground.

It was Granger, forgoing cover as she stood tall with her wand at maximum distance on her arm,
looking at the charging Slytherins with nothing but calculation in her eyes.

“*STAND TALL, GRYFFINDORS!”*

It was unrestrained pandemonium, spells flashing back and forth as green and gold came together
in a cacophony of destruction. Bodies went flying through the air, various curses and hexes struck
and formed strange defects. It swirled around in a massive hurricane of magic, the air thick with
smoke from the ongoing fire as Slytherin and Gryffindor went toe to toe. There were no tactics or
strategy at this point. Lost were the ploys and schemes. This was brutal close combat warfare
between two rival Houses.

In the end, there were only three left standing.

* * * * *

Blaise and Tracey circled Granger, trying to trap her in the middle as a fire raged around them.
Stunned bodies of their fellow House mates lay around them like corpses and all three of them
looked the worse for wear. Blood trickled down the side of Tracey's head, her usually perfect
hair matted down to one side as she had been on the receiving end of a nasty Blood-Letting Jinx.
The entirety of Blaise's robes were disintegrated from a Burning Hex and he stood there in just
a bare shirt and pants.

Hermione Granger, on the other hand, still held all of her faculties with minimal injuries. Her
lips were pursed tight as her eyes bounced from Slytherin to Slytherin. There was a lull in the
fighting as they surveyed each other, trying to find a weakness. Yet, Hermione knew she had very
little weaknesses. She had both of them covered on knowledge of spells, execution of them, and
speed of dissemination. The only advantage they held was in pure numbers.

“*Reducto!”* Tracey jumped forward with a powerful spell, anger still boiling within her
veins.

Hermione transfigured a tree branch into a shield and summoned it to block the spell. Flicking
her wand twice without a word, the dead leaves rose into the air and formed a tornado that she sent
towards Blaise. With the Slytherin distracted, Hermione magicked the tree branches into grabbing
onto Tracey's arms. Tracey used a Cutting Hex to slice away the tree branches, her focus
determinedly on the bushy haired Gryffindor.

“*Inflamare!”* Another tree was set on fire by Tracey, continuously limiting the area they
could cover.

The smoke was thick and oppressive, stinging their eyes and sneaking down their lungs, but
Tracey did not want Grange to get away to regroup. She had the Gryffindor trapped between her and
Blaise and this was to be their moment. If Granger was to be defeated, it would be here. Blaise
churned into action, blasting at her with various offensive hexes and curses. Hermione countered by
transfiguring more shields from all of the debris around her while simultaneously striking at
Tracey, keeping the pair off balance.

Blaise and Tracey circled again, trying to stay at different sides of Granger. It was a wordless
affair, save for the curses and spells uttered. Tracey knew the extent of Granger's prowess but
refused to be intimidated by it. This was for Harry and his efforts to save them against not one
but all three Houses. The dark haired Slytherin suddenly stepped forward, her pace quickening as
she slashed at Granger with a few cutting hexes.

Granger parried it well, leaving an opening for Blaise. He tried to take advantage of it,
punishing her slight mistake, but it was a trap. He overextended himself as his aimed sky above
Granger's head. Ducking into a boll, she rolled along the ground and Blaise felt his feet get
caught in an *Incarcerous* spell. He tumbled over and Granger easily Stunned him, whirling
around to deflect another hopeless spell from Tracey.

Tracey ground her teeth together at Blaise's fall. There was a trickling feeling of doom
that was starting to come forth from the back of her mind. Granger looked at ease, still standing
and looking far from exhausted while Tracey sluggishly shuffled sideways, always presenting a
moving target. What could she do to defeat the Mudblood Champion?

And so Tracey decided to do the one thing that would have caught Granger off-guard. It was
stupid as she knew how powerful she was in this particular branch of magic but perhaps a momentary
distraction would afford her the time to strike at her when her guard was down. It was a risky
play, but Harry had taught her to be unexpected. What was more unexpected than trying to best
Granger at her own game?

“*Legilimens!”*

And it worked! For a split second, it worked.

Tracey accessed her mind and she could feel Granger's surprise in her thoughts. Tracey swam
through memories of Granger's first meeting with Harry. She could *feel* the curiosity and
apprehension of meeting Harry.

Then, she was on a snowy embankment, the road curving ahead of her as luminescent red lights
flashed by her. Three Muggle vehicles, two bulkier ones and one normal car albeit for the lights on
the hood screeched to a halt. Out stepped Hermione, dressed in formal clothing with what looked to
be relatives. The little girl ran towards the lip of the road but a man dressed in official uniform
pulled her away from it. Granger kicked and screamed, her arms reaching for something over the
curve of the road. As Tracey looked over the edge, she spotted a mangled car smashed against a tree
like it had gone round for round with the Whomping Willow.

Tracey suddenly found herself back in the forest, staring at Granger. The Gryffindor girl had
tears streaming down her face and that break of her facade caught Tracey by surprise. She froze,
the crushing depression associated with that memory lingering with her. Tracey was still with
shock, breathing hard at the memory. Hermione, through her tears, held no such pity. Inaction would
be her death if she allowed it.

Hermione didn't even move quickly, such was Tracey's stillness. Her wand came slowly in
front of her and she spoke the incantation slowly. Both of their minds were far from the Forbidden
Forest or House matches or even Hogwarts. They were both still in that snowy night, standing on the
side of the road.

Tracey felt sadness, depression, and most of all, sympathy.

Hermione felt...nothing.

“*Stupefy.”*

* * * * * *

**A/N: Thank you all for the amazing reviews. I really appreciate all of them and hope to read
more of them soon. I loved this chapter. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
There will be some time until the next update but I hope to bring the conclusion of this Third Year
shortly. Thank you again and I'll see you next time.**

**Estimated update time: 24 days**
 Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7
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21. Motivation
--------------



Harry awoke to the smell of sterilized instruments, fresh linen, and a variety of odorous
potions. It had to be the Hospital Wing.

*Everything always ends at the Hospital Wing*, Harry thought as he tried to sit up.

Thirst. His mouth was parched and itchy like he had been deprived of water for days. Honestly,
he didn't even know how long he had been at the Hospital Wing. Though his curtains were drawn,
Harry could tell there was no one sitting there waiting for him and seeing as how sun was streaming
through the window at the far side of the room, it was plaintively not the day after the House
match.

As if on cue, a burst of feet clattering against the ground broke Harry's train of thought
as the clip-clop of Madame Pomfrey signaled the arrival of his healer. She pulled the curtain backs
unceremoniously and glared down at him as if to say, “You again?”

“Water?” Harry asked weakly. Pomfrey's usually caustic face melted for a moment as she
levitated a glass of water to his hands.

“Drink it slowly,” she ordered.

Harry did his best not to devour the water in the glass and sipped it slowly. The coolness was a
bittersweet mix of harsh and pleasant down his throat and he finished the whole glass in a matter
of seconds. Though his throat was still sore, he felt considerably better. Unfortunately, Pomfrey
had more than just water she wanted him to digest.

“You are to take this Replenishing Potion every three hours until I release you. You must take
it at exactly three hours even after you fall asleep, so I will be around later to make sure.” Her
tone held no room for compromise.

“What does it replenish?” Harry asked as he took the first dose of a potion that tasted
disgustingly like foul onion.

“Your magical properties mostly. You pulled quite a stunt out in the forest. The nerve of these
*administrators* to let you kids do that.” She clucked her tongue.

Rinsing down the odorous potion with some water, Harry paused to ask, “How long have I been
out?”

With one last stern look of displeasure, Pomfrey replied, “Six days, Mr. Potter. I've taken
care of you for six days.”

That explained the thirst.

She harassed him for a minute or two longer, poking and prodding him with her wand. He was sure
that she used her wand just to annoy him as there was absolutely no need for her to jab his ribs
with it. Keeping his mouth shut, Harry endured the testing for just a little longer as he mused on
the length of his unconsciousness. Six days was longer than he had ever been out and he didn't
remember ever waking up. His last thoughts were jumbled, an amalgam of screaming and splintering
branches. He could see Tracey's face in his mind's eye as he tried to explain that she
needed to take out Granger, but that was the last thing he remembered.

Harry looked over at his beside table and found that his wand was missing. Looking around, it
didn't seem like they hadn't left his wand anywhere with him. Sitting up in the bed and
propping the pillow to support his back, Harry turned the curtains and called for Pomfrey.

“Madame Pomfrey, where's my wand?” Harry half-shouted so she could hear him from across the
room.

“Ministry's got a hold of it.”

It wasn't Pomfrey but one of his best friends, Blaise Zabini, that answered. The dark boy
strode through the door with a toothless smile on his face.

“What do they want with my wand?”

“Reckon it's that nonsense spell you pulled out in the forest.”

This time, it wasn't Blaise, but it was still one of his best friends. Tracey turned the
corner into the Hospital Wing, her hair pulled uncharacteristically back in a ponytail. Obvious
bags under her eyes indicated fatigue, but her face lit up as she saw him sitting and conscious on
the bed. She quickly walked over, stopping at the edge of his bed as she looked down at him with a
gentle smile of relief.

“Pomfrey said you'd wake up today.”

“She said I've been out six days.”

Blaise shrugged. “Technically, this is the seventh day. Good of you to finally rise.”

Harry did his best to push himself up, groaning at the stiffness of his muscles. He had visited
the Hospital Wing countless times before but never had he stayed for such a duration. Already, he
was eager to leave the bed, uncomfortable in the sterile and strange surrounding. Judging by the
sharp look Pomfrey sent his way at the sound of movement, he wasn't going anywhere anytime
soon.

“My wand,” Harry repeated.

“The Ministry, in its *glorious* wisdom, decided to hold on to it until you were awake.
They want to ask you some questions,” Tracey said.

“What were they doing here?”

“There were actually quite a few of them that came to watch the House match. My father
included,” Tracey included the last part quietly.

“Your father?” Harry parroted. “But what's he doing here?”

“He's part of the school evaluation board. Snape invited them all out to watch the House
match.”

“And I'm relatively sure that the creation of new spells requires some sort of Ministry
interference,” Blaise pointed out. “Now that you're finally awake, maybe you can put an end to
all the crazy rumors floating around and tell us what the bloody hell was going on!”

“Before I do...”

Harry trailed off as he inclined his head towards Pomfrey. Nodding once, Tracey pulled Blaise
into the bed without a fuss, seating both of them at the edge of it while they pulled the drapes
around them for some semblance of cover. Once Blaise made certain that Pomfrey was busy attending
to some potions, Harry spoke in earnest.

“I suppose I should start at the very beginning,” Harry started.

“The *very* beginning,” Tracey emphasized. “What exactly happened out there?”

“I suppose...it all started at the cave.”

“What cave?” Blaise asked.

And so Harry finally revealed his late night sessions with Granger to Blaise. Throughout
Harry's recap from his first meeting with Granger to the last, Blaise sat impassively, his legs
crossed at the farthest corner of the bed as he soaked in the information. Tracey frowned when
Harry spoke of their project to create a spell as he had not disclosed that information to her.
Once he started, Harry couldn't stop as it all rushed out of him. The months of secrets and
subterfuge poured out like a fine potion, mixing and falling towards the bottom of the bed until he
arrived to the point in the story where Trow told them about the battle in the forest.

“All this time, you've been working with her...” Blaise muttered.

“I'm sorry I lied to you,” Harry honestly said.

Blaise exhaled loudly through his lips, creating a whistle. “So you and Granger all this time.
No wonder you were always so knackered at the end of the night.”

Blaise ended his statement with a not so obvious wink which earned a rightful glare from Tracey.
The dark Slytherin chuckled quietly but didn't look upset.

“Suppose that explains how you became Merlin overnight. Reckon I can get a couple lessons with
her?”

“You don't want to,” Tracey interjected glumly. “She's every bit as tough as you think
she would be.”

“I should have known when both of you were disappearing for all this *studying*. You've
never been the type, Trace.”

Tracey winced as she revealed her part in the lie. “We're both sorry, Blaise. We should have
told you.”

Blaise waved it off casually, his eyes not meeting theirs.

“It's okay. We all have our secrets.”

Seeing an opening, Harry continued, revealing his plan of action after Neville's attack. He
left out the part about his conversation with Luna and the realization that there were far too many
coincidences leading towards this climactic House match in the Forbidden Forest. The idea hinged
upon the fact that he knew Granger would want to win just as much as he did.

“I knew that she would at least consider the plan, but there was no guarantee it would work. I
couldn't do it myself since it's quite obvious what Gryffindors think of me, but I thought
if I sent Blaise, Granger would at least hear what he had to say,” Harry explained.

“And I thought you were barmy to think that Granger would ever listen to that crazy plan of
yours.” Blaise shook his head.

Harry shrugged ineffectually. “It worked, didn't it?”

“Partially. I couldn't beat her,” Tracey confessed.

Harry waved his hand dismissively, shifting a little bit so Tracey could sit closer to him and
there would be more room on the bed for all of them.

“It was a wash once I used the spell. I'm sure you guys did your best, but I've seen
Granger first hand. She's not someone that's easy to deal with under ideal circumstances,
never mind during a raging inferno in the middle of the forest.”

“I tried *Legilimens* on her. Thought I could catch her off guard, but...”

“That's a dangerous game to play,” Harry quietly responded.

Blaise whistled lowly, leaning back against the bottom rack of the bed. “Occlumency?
Legilimency? You're going to have to catch me up on that.”

“Not that there's a lot to look for inside that head of yours,” Tracey replied.

Blaise flipped her off not so kindly and returned his attentions to Harry. “You still
haven't explained what that spell was.”

Taking a deep breath, Harry plunged into another explanation.

“Ever since that night when they jumped me, I was looking for a spell that could link together
several targets at once. What if I was in a situation where more bullies were after me? I'm
pretty sure I could handle a few of them at once, but wouldn't it be useful to have a spell
where I could just chain them all to each other? That's what Granger and I were working on when
it wasn't Occlumency and Legilimency. She took care of a lot of the theoretical work and
understanding.”

“You two are insane!” Blaise said.

“Maybe, but it worked, didn't it? The results are hard to argue against. Anyways, we both
realized that there were a different set of requirements that were needed for the creation of a
spell. We tried looking up different variants of the spell in the Library, but even those in the
Restricted Section weren't really specifying the chained damage we needed. At least, not to the
extent of what I wanted.”

“Nevertheless, we continued with a spell, specifically trying to use other spells that we
already knew. That's how I decided to try it wandless. Justin needed to be under the perception
that I couldn't do anything without my wand. If I could congregate them all in one place, then
I could take most of them out in one fell swoop.”

“But why not just attack Justin from the woods?” Tracey asked.

“We didn't know where he was. You saw how we were in the woods. Even if all three Houses
weren't working together, there would be no way of knowing which House would be coming from
which direction. I needed all of them in one spot so we could have eyes on all the Houses at once.
That's why I told Granger via Blaise that she should hint that we would come straight for
them.”

“And then we would all be in one spot,” Blaise finished.

“And you could take them all out. But you were wrong. We didn't end up winning,” Tracey
summarized.

Harry shrugged, adjusting his glasses so they weren't sliding off the edge of his nose.
After chancing a look to see that Madame Pomfrey was still busy, Harry closed the curtains and
resumed his explanations.

“I wasn't really that concerned about winning. I just wanted to make sure Justin knew what I
was capable of.”

Blaise and Tracey mused on that admission for a moment, silence prevailing over them. Harry
adjusted the pillow behind his back and the slight movement caused his legs to brush against
Tracey's. Tracey, for her part, didn't move but didn't make a visible acknowledge of
the acute physical contact. Blaise was too far away to be bothered, sitting at the very corner of
the large bed. Harry glanced towards Tracey, admiring her blue eyes and wavy hair.

“What's the point if we don't win?” Tracey quietly asked.

“I think there's bigger things than winning now,” Harry responded.

Blaise opened his mouth to say something else, but he was interrupted by the door to the
Hospital Wing creaking open. Tracey and Blaise quietly slid off the bed, not wanting to attract too
much attention towards Harry, and peaked out between the curtains.

“Brilliant. It's the Ministry folks. Looks like we weren't the only ones waiting for you
to wake up, Harry,” Blaise said.

“They have my wand?” Harry asked.

Harry peered out the curtains himself and spotted three men talking to Madame Pomfrey. All of
them wore black robes that fell to the floor clasped with an ornate, silver *M*. He
couldn't see their faces from their orientation, but he recognized the burly, bulky physique of
one of these Ministry members in particular.

“Tracey, is that your Dad?!”

Tracey looked towards the bed, picking at a loose thread.

“Yes it is.”

* * * * * * *

Two of the men were from the Department of Mysteries while the third, Ian Davis, was a member of
the Wizengamot. Ian kindly reintroduced himself, but there was a certain coldness and suspicion in
his eyes that Harry didn't miss. The other two Ministry members were not nearly as eccentric as
Harry would have thought of the members of the Department of Mysteries. What was strange was how
they preferred to be addressed.

Beta-Xi was a tall, older man with a bald pate and a thin beard. His eyes were a strange hazel,
so yellow that it looked unnatural. It was obvious that Beta-Xi wasn't his given name, but
there was no hesitation in his voice as he introduced himself. Later, Tracey would tell him that
all Department of Mystery members were given specific names using the Greek alphabet that
corresponded with their ranking within the Department. The second name indicated the rank while the
first name was just a specifier.

Chi-Gamma was a middle aged man, roughly the age of Ian Davis. He was astonishingly
unremarkable. Brown eyes matched short-length brown hair. He had a face that was neither too
angular nor was it too round. He was of average height and average build, a face that was neither
handsome nor ugly. In fact, the only remarkable thing about him was the *M* that clasped his
robe together.

“Hello, Mr. Potter. I was wondering if you might answer a few questions of ours as pertaining to
the events of April 12th,” Beta-Xi kindly inquired.

Harry looked from Beta-Xi to Chi-Gamma, wondering what exactly they wanted for him. For his
part, Ian Davis looked equally uncomfortable by the presence of the DoM members and stood off the
to the side, within ear shot but obviously not part of this inquiry.

“Can I have my wand back, first?”

“In a moment.” Beta-Xi smiled but there was no kindness behind it. “We only have a few
questions.”

Harry's eyes flicked towards Tracey, but she too looked uncomfortable by the mere presence
of these Ministry members. Where were the teachers? Where was Snape?

“They'll have to go,” he said.

Ian stepped in without a moment's hesitation, laying a firm hand on his daughter's
shoulders as he looked apprehensively at both the DoM members and Harry.

“Come on kids. Let's let them ask Harry a few questions.”

Tracey looked like she wanted to protest, but one stern glance from her father silenced her.
Blaise was openly gawking at the strange DoM members but walked away with Tracey and Mr. Davis.
They left the Hospital Wing, leaving Harry with the two strange members of the Depart of
Mysteries.

Chi-Gamma snapped his fingers and materialized a parchment on a slab with an auto-writing quill.
It hovered at chest height to them whilst Beta-Xi stroked his white beard as he looked upon the
scribe.

“Mr. Potter. Are you aware that you created a previously unknown spell on the date of April
12th, 1994?” Beta-Xi asked evenly.

“Yes.”

The quill scribbled furiously across the parchment and Harry wondered what it was exactly
transcribing. It certainly wasn't a recording of their conversation as there were far too many
strokes that didn't match the words uttered.

“What is the incantation of that spell?”

Harry hadn't used an incantation because he understood the spell at a core level. It was
akin to more experienced wizards not needing to say *Lumos*, but in this case, Harry
understood that it was *his* spell and thus, didn't need an incantation on the spot.
Still, he knew exactly what it was supposed to be.

“*Fulminare.*”

Beta-Xi spared a quick, half-second glance at Chi-Gamma and Chi-Gamma nodded his head once.
Harry assumed they were using some form of passive Legilimency to communicate to each other as the
quill sprung back to life, writing something that Harry couldn't see. It was infuriating
him.

“What was your inspiration for this spell?”

Revenge. Anger. A deep desire to see Justin Finch-Fletchley's face plastered along the
ground. There were numerous motivations but none of them seemed appropriate to tell these two DoM
members.

“Academic.”

Again, a flick of eyes between the two strange men. Chi-Gamma had hardly spoke, only looking
over at the transcription periodically while studying Harry with what seemed to be some sort of
scientific guesswork.

“Why are you holding my wand?” Harry interrupted the string of questions.

“It is standard procedure whilst investigation the creation of new spells. It has to be logged
into the archive of available spells after all.” Chi-Gamma finally spoke more than a few words.

“And you lot take care of that?”

“We take care of many things. This is just one of them,” Chi-Gamma answered.

Beta-Xi indicated with his hand and Chi-Gamma relented.

“If I may continue?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“You always have a choice, Mr. Potter.”

The statement struck him as hollow. Did he really have a say in the matter? It seemed like they
were just manipulating his answers anyways. Harry shrugged, not bothering to grace him with a
response. It was a tad on the petulant side, but it would do them a world of good to have some sort
of pleasantness. They made Snape look positively delightful.

“I am going to show you three colors. Please tell me which you associate yourself with.”

Chi-Gamma waved his hand and procured three blank cards of varying colors. Black. White.
Red.

“Red.”

With a snap of his fingers, Chi-Gamma wiped the cards from physical space. Harry didn't know
whether the DoM man was trying to impress him but that was little more than a cheap parlor trick.
Most experienced wizards were capable of easy, wandless magic.

“There are three men on a hill. A warrior, a merchant, and a thief. Who survives?”

“This doesn't really seem pertinent to spell creation,” Harry rebutted.

Beta-Xi fixed him with an even stare, his almost yellow eyes piercing through Harry. To
Harry's left, Chi-Gamma stood there unmoved, his arms crossed and his posture relaxed. Feeling
trapped, Harry answered the seemingly inane question.

“The thief.”

“Why?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “You asked who *survives*. The warrior always dies and the merchant
always runs out of money. The thief takes and takes.”

The Department of Mystery agents exchanged another one of those seemingly significant glances.
It annoyed Harry to no end.

“Mr. Potter, our next questions are a bit more sensitive in nature,” said Chi-Gamma. “Would you
mind?”

“Mind what?”

Chi-Gamma clapped his hands twice in front of his body, the echo soft and pure. The lights
dimmed in the background and Harry saw Pomfrey frozen in the background. Even the light from the
sun seemed to be on a dimmer while the radius around his bed remained in the same light. This was
certainly impressive magic.

“Two minutes,” Beta-Xi said to no one in particular.

“As you can see, we have limited time, Mr. Potter. If you may answer these questions with little
interruption, it would be the best for all of us,” Chi-Gamma informed him.

“What is this?” Harry couldn't help but ask.

“An uninterruptable time bubble. Please, Mr. Potter, no other questions.”

He had a million questions, but Harry sensed these two were not ones to trifle with. This was
certainly *not* parlor magic. In fact, Harry had never seen this kind of magic before. The
most impressive displays of magic were the internal workings of Hogwarts. No professor had come
close to such manipulation that didn't involve something with their studies.

“Mr. Potter, are you ready?”

“Ready for what?”

**POTTER. POTTER. POTTER.**

The Legilimency attacks were unlike anything he had ever experienced. Over time, he had gotten
used to Hermione's style of intrusion. It was methodical and meticulous, a constant drum like a
battering ram against his head. These Legilimency attacks were different. They attacked from
different vectors, probing and snaking from areas of his mind that didn't even exist. There
were feints, implanted memories, false echoes of his own memories.

Harry clasped his hands to his head, screaming at the top of his lungs. The world was shaking
around him, his vision so blurry that he couldn't even see Beta-Xi or Chi-Gamma. All he could
feel or hear was the dual attacks slicing his brain open.

**HOGWARTS. HOGWARTS. HOGWARTS.**

They flashed through his memories of First Year, the disastrous attack he waged on the Seventh
Years as the First Year Slytherins were eliminated in less than five minutes. They picked apart his
classes, his feelings, and his moods. They easily found the source of his anger when it came
towards the spell, happening upon the memory of the night the bullies beat him up. Harry tried his
usual method of materializing aggressive defenses, but Beta-Xi and Chi-Gamma knocked it down like
it was made of paper.

**OPEN. OPEN. OPEN.**

Gritting his teeth, Harry resumed his efforts, feeling more resistance on their parts as he
constructed a maze this time, trying to at least slow them down. He could feel Beta-Xi cut through
the maze, ignoring the walls Harry tried to create. Harry added vertical layers to his mental maze,
expanding it rapidly as the flood of memories slowed to a trickle.

**RIDDLE. RIDDLE. RIDDLE.**

Harry started understanding the owners of the different attacks. The mental signatures of
Beta-Xi and Chi-Gamma were more prominent and Harry was starting to single them out. His maze
became more aggressive, creating blockades and constant rerouting so that they would have trouble
finding his memories. Harry responded to their implanted memories by creating false images, luring
the two Department of Mystery members to other parts of his mind that contained nothing but
minutiae information.

**VERNON.**

The single world shook Harry's defenses and the two attacks took advantage of the slight
halt in concentration. They ripped apart his maze, shredding it into flimsy ribbons as the two
serpents snaked through the deeper recesses of his mind. They were on a neatly manicured lawn,
racing up the driveway towards the front door of a brown house. They traveled up the stairs,
skimming by the cupboard underneath as they took the last door in the hallway. Then, the door was
open and there he was, shaking and crying as...

**VERNON. VERNON. VERNON**.

* * * * * *

“Potter! Potter! Stop it!”

Granger was in front of him, her hands on his face as she tried to shake him out of his reverie.
It was only then that he realized he was screaming the name out loud and there was no Beta-Xi or
Chi-Gamma. There was only Granger and Pomfrey, the latter furiously waving her wand over him. He
was breathing heavily and Granger had one knee raised onto the bed, shaking him furiously.

“Where are they?!” Harry bewilderedly looked around, trying to find the two Department of
Mysteries agents.

“Who?” Granger asked.

“Beta-Xi and Chi-Gamma!”

“Who are you talking about, Potter? There's no one here but us.”

“The...the...Department of Mysteries people. They were just here...”

Pomfrey looked down upon him with a frown. She stilled her wand and reached the back of her hand
to feel his forehead.

“Are you feeling unwell, Mr. Potter?”

Harry swatted her hand away rather rudely, frustrated at their blindness. Did they not see them?
Did they not see the Legilimency attacks they were performing on him? He tried to sit up but
Pomfrey pushed him straight down, hitting him with a spell.

“What was that?!”

“A spell to calm you down, Mr. Potter. Now sit still!”

Harry complied with her orders, more out of fear for her wrath than his own instruction. Granger
was at least telling the truth in one regard. There was no sign of the two members from the
Department of Mysteries. The magic they had used seemingly allowed them to disappear from
sight.

“Madame Pomfrey. You saw those two Department of Mystery people enter the room right?” Harry
asked.

Pomfrey looked at him oddly, genuine concern on her face. “Potter, I only saw Mr. Davis walk in.
I didn't see anyone else.”

*She must have missed them or didn't see them walk in*.

Finishing her tests, Pomfrey pulled back and said, “I'm going to give you a potion that
will...”

“No, no!” Harry protested. “No other potions. I'm...I'm fine. I just need some time to
relax.”

Pomfrey obviously didn't believe him, but she didn't force another potion upon him. The
Replenishing Potion was one potion too many and who knew what another potion would taste like. She
departed, not without a promise of checking up on him later, and left Harry and Granger to their
thoughts and words.

“What did you see when you walked in?” Harry quickly asked once Pomfrey was out of range.

“I saw you thrashing on the bed as soon as I walked into the Hospital Wing. I rushed over to you
with Pomfrey on my heels. It looked like you were having some terrible nightmare,” Granger
explained.

“And you didn't see anyone? You didn't see two people?” Harry gave their
descriptors.

She shook her head slowly, skepticism all along her face. “I didn't see anyone else.”

Harry exhaled in frustration, not understanding how neither Pomfrey nor Granger saw Chi-Gamma or
Beta-Xi.

“Did you see Tracey or Blaise outside with a large man?”

“I came from the Gryffindor tower. I didn't see them from that way,” Hermione continued to
say it in a way that could have been construed as an apology.

Harry flopped back into the bed, a headache beginning to form. He rubbed his temples, trying
desperately to retain every single moment of the parallel Legilimency attacks. He *knew* they
had been there and the best way to get an answer was from Ian Davis. Unfortunately, he was confined
to the bed for the time being as he felt he neither had the energy to walk nor did he have any clue
of where Mr. Davis was.

“Potter, what happened?” Granger tried to coax the answer out of him.

So Harry once again found himself regaling a tale of two Department of Mysteries members
attacking his mind after asking him a series of questions that ranged from relevant to complete
nonsense. Granger was silent the whole time, nodding along to the right parts of his story until he
finished.

He only needed to look at the guarded look on his face to know that she didn't completely
believe him.

“Granger, I swear I'm telling the truth.”

Granger shrugged. “You must admit that it's a far fetched tale. It's not that I
don't believe you. It's just that I'm having a hard time wrapping my mind around the
fact that two Department of Mysteries members paid you a visit, asked you some strange questions,
and then put you in this *uninterruptible time bubble*, attacked you with Legilimency, then
disappeared out of this Hospital Wing without anyone seeing them.”

“It all happened.”

“To you it happened. To me...”

Harry fell silent, angrily mulling over his thoughts. He thought that after all they had been
through, Granger would at least give him the benefit of the doubt and believe him. Yet, her
reaction didn't completely surprise him. She was always logical to a fault and nothing seemed
as improbable as the situation he had just described. He would have to wait until Tracey and Blaise
returned to give him confirmation.

“Why'd you come up here anyways?” Harry tiredly asked, not wanting to argue.

“Pomfrey said you'd be awake around this time. I wanted to see how you were.” There was a
slight hesitancy between the first and second sentence that Harry didn't miss.

“Delusional apparently.”

“You're not delusional,” Granger corrected. “I know you too well to be delusional.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

An uncomfortable silence fell between them. They rarely conversed outside of the cave and when
they did, it was usually incognito or covertly in alcoves. For her to be standing there in the
middle of the Hospital Wing was slightly unsettling for the both of them.

“I'm glad the spell worked,” she finally said.

“So am I otherwise we would all be out of luck.”

“I was afraid you weren't going to be able to pull it off. It would have been a catastrophe
if it didn't all go according to plan.”

“I guess that saying about the first plan failing isn't always true, right? Congratulations
on moving to the House cup by the way. You guys deserved it.”

“We didn't really deserve it. You were unbeaten until last week. We just got lucky that the
professors put so much emphasis on this one. That reminds me by the way. You have a lot of school
work to do once you're up and running.”

Harry wryly smiled despite the throbbing in his head. “You didn't have to remind me.”

“Just thought you should know.”

The awkwardness persisted as if they didn't know what to talk about if it didn't deal
with Legilimency or House matches or coming up with ways to defeat other students. It occurred to
Harry that they didn't have regular conversations. They didn't sit around and talk about
nothing. Everything had a purpose when they met and now that they were exposed in daylight to each
other, there was a palatable gap between them.

“How's Longbottom?”

The question must have startled her for she stuttered when she started speaking.
“He's...uh...he's okay. It took him a while to understand that I was working with you, but
you have to give credit to him. He was the one that convinced the rest of the Gryffindors to go
through with this plan even though it doesn't stand for what Gryffindor is. I guess he was
just...jealous, I suppose.”

She blushed and stammered the last phrase as if she didn't believe it herself. Harry tried
to keep a straight face, but he couldn't help the grin that crept onto his lips. While he
didn't exactly know why Longobottom attacked him that night, he had an inkling that it had
something to do with his relationship and meetings with Granger.

“Did you ever figure out who told him?” Harry said with a large grin on his face.

“Stop smiling, Potter,” Granger ordered. “And no. He said he got an anonymous post saying we had
been meeting together. His hot head got the better of him.”

“I'll be sure to thank him.”

“Don't,” Granger warned him. “Just because he did it doesn't mean he likes you. He did
it for me.”

“Of course he did.” Harry's grin grew even wider.

“If you weren't incapacitated, I would hex you right now.”

Harry let loose the trapped laughter, momentarily forgetting about the Department of Mysteries
agents. Granger tried to keep a stoic face, crossing her arms and looking at him stubbornly but
eventually, she allowed a few chuckles to escape from her as well. Even if Granger hadn't come
to terms with the fact that Longbottom might have had more than friendship on his mind, Potter knew
how guys his age thought well enough to at least empathize with the Gryffindor boy.

“And everything else?” Harry decided to change topics from Longbottom. “How's Gryffindor
dealing with the fallout?”

“As well as can be I suppose. No one is that happy about what we did and I think Hufflepuff in
particular didn't take too kindly to us playing turncoat. They had it coming though.”

“I didn't mean to put you in a tough spot,” Harry sincerely said.

“It's okay. We were there to win. Whatever it takes, right?”

“Right.”

The bell rung in the distance, signaling the change of hour. Harry peaked over Granger's
shoulder to see if Tracey or Blaise would turn the corner and enter the room, giving him more
information about the Ministry members but they were still absent.

“Do you mind if I ask you something?” Granger shuffled her feet, not meeting his eyes.

“Sure.”

Granger looked unsure as to whether or not she wanted to speak but she was resilient as
ever.

“Why were you repeating your uncle's name?”

Harry's blood ran cold at the question as he remembered that he had been screaming out loud
when Granger found him. Had he really been screaming his uncle's name? Nausea overtook him at
the thought of such a stupid folly. His normally loose tongue thickened as he struggled to find the
right answer.

“It was nothing.”

It didn't look like she was going to take no for an answer this time. Harry made a mental
note to remember that Granger forgets nothing.

“You said they were using Legilimency, right? I know the one memory I was never able to get out
of you.”

“What of it?” His throat seemed really dry and he looked around for some water to quench it.

She looked at him sadly and the worst emotion he didn't want came to the forefront.
Pity.

“Harry,” she started, using his given name gently. “You have to talk about this.”

He could have. He could have easily opened up to her and revealed the dark secret that very few
people knew about. Granger and Pomfrey were the only ones to know about the scars and pain that
were etched onto his skin. It would have been as easy as just opening his mouth and letting the
words flow like a river breaking through a dam. But he couldn't. If he told her, that would
mean it was real. If he told her, that would mean confronting the feelings that accompanied that
dark room. If he told her, he would have to acknowledge his part in it. He couldn't tell her.
Not today.

“It was nothing,” he repeated solemnly.

Granger shook her head, the gulf of space between her and the bed now more prominent that it had
been during the start of the conversation.

“You can tell me, Harry. I'm a Muggleborn remember? We can get the authorities involved
-”

“NO!” Harry vehemently hissed. “Hermione, just...just leave this alone.”

But she pressed forward. “I know it's not easy, but you have to talk about this. You
can't just keep on pretending that it didn't happen. Did he...did he ever do something
that...oh Merlin, Harry...did he ever...”

“Hermione, **shut up**.”

She stopped, flinching as if she had been struck. Her bottom lip quivered as Harry finally saw
her mask fall apart. Hermione was showing more emotion than he had ever seen before, tears welling
up in her eyes as her body shook. He instantly felt guilty. He felt guilty for not telling her. He
felt guilty for hurting her feelings because internally, he knew she was just trying to help. She
just didn't understand.

“Just leave it be.”

She did it leave it be, but she also left.

* * * * * *

Hermione Granger rushed out of the Hospital Wing, stung by the fact that Harry didn't even
call her back to apologize. Could he not see the danger of the situation? She had kept her thoughts
to herself ever since he revealed the extent of the abuse, but she thought it would be a good time
to bring it back as the school year closed. Surely, there was something they could do about it.
Hermione was horrified when she realized that the scars on Harry's back was probably just the
tip of the surface when it came to the abuse. She didn't even want to think about what that
animal also did to Harry.

Using an exercise she frequented when learning Occlumency, she cleared her mind, willing herself
compartmentalize these emotions. Hermione *hated* when she cried. It was weakness. It was an
admission that she wasn't capable of handling the situation in a logical way. Pausing in the
hallway, she leaned against the wall, feeling the calming influence of her Occlumency taking over.
The emotions were better when they were numb.

“You're doing the right thing,” she said to herself. “Then again, everyone is the
protagonist in their life.”

Finally calm and dispelling of the tears with a handkerchief, Hermione pushed off the wall,
resuming her walk back towards the Gryffindor tower. If Harry didn't want to talk about it,
then that was fine, but Hermione was certainly not going to let the issue drop. He was too close to
the situation to make the right call. She knew better.

As she turned the corner, she paused as she noticed a group of students blocking her way. At
first, she didn't acknowledge who they were and kept on walking, assuming they would part for
her. Yet, as she approached them, she realized they were actively blocking her way and when she
looked at their faces, she recognized why the blockade was there.

“Hello, Granger,” said Justin Finch-Fletchley of Hufflepuff.

“Justin. Ernie. Hannah.” She addressed each of them, her hand subtly moving towards her wand
tucked into the side pocket of her robes.

“Tell me,” Justin started, “It was you that came up with the plan, right? Potter doesn't
have the brains for that but you - everyone knows about your brains.”

“Does it matter?” Hermione replied in question. “We won and that was the end of it.”

“By stabbing us in the back,” Ernie countered.

“That was after all of you teamed up on Slytherin because you couldn't handle one boy.”

“Did you forget that Gryffindor was included in that deal?” Hannah snarled.

“Not *me*,” Hermione defiantly answered.

“Of course,” Justin guffawed. “Granger always has to have it her way. It was all going to go
splendidly until you fucked it up.”

“You only have yourself to blame, Justin. Don't blame me for losing.”

“That's the funny thing innit, Granger? I don't think I've lost yet.”

All pretense was dropped as Justin moved to raise his wand. Hermione had a few spells already on
her lips, knowing the exact percentage of Justin's spell usage. He would most likely open with
*Expelliarmus*, relying on comfort and easiness of the spell. Justin would most likely follow
up with a barrage of offensive spells, not using his surroundings to good effect. Still, Hermione
calculated that it would be unlikely she would escape this three on one without some damage to
herself.

*“**Stupefy!”*

The spell came from behind her and Hermione immediately admonished herself for not checking her
surroundings. She was so preoccupied by the Hufflepuff's presence that she didn't even
bother checking her rear flank. It must have been either Zacharias Smith or another Hufflepuff
waiting in the dark.

Hermione was then surprised when the spell shot over her shoulder and smacked Justin right in
the chest, knocking the boy out cold. Ernie and Hannah froze, unsure what to do without their
leader, so Hermione chanced a look behind her and found almost the last person she expected.

Tracey Davis had her wand raised, walking forward until she was side by side with Hermione. Her
attention was focused clearly on the two present Hufflepuffs in front of them and there was no
mistake in her intentions.

“There's still one more of us,” Tracey announced, “So you better leave before this gets
ugly.”

Hannah and Ernie exchanged glances, realizing that they had been caught off guard even though
they were trying to outnumber Hermione. Looking down at their fallen leader, they came to a silent
agreement and lowered their wands. Tracey, for her part, did not follow suit, indicating that they
should leave first with a flick of her wand. Ernie and Hannah hauled Justin up by his armpits,
levitating the unconscious boy until they were out of sight. Only then did Tracey lower her
wand.

Hermione waited for the unknown person, most likely Zabini, to come out. After a beat and no
movement, Hermione surmised that it must have been a bluff on the Slytherin girl's part.
Hermione tucked her wand back into her pocket, the ultimate sign of trust between two witches or
wizards. It was akin to sheathing a sword.

“I'm guessing Zabini isn't actually around?” Hermione asked.

“Couldn't take a chance that they would attack again though I dare say that we could
probably handle them,” Tracey revealed.

Hermione nodded, grateful that the Slytherin girl had arrived in time before a full blown duel
broke out in the hallway. Though she had certain...suspicions...about the headmaster, she still
preferred not to be expelled. After all, where else would she go?

“Thank you for that,” Hermione genuinely said.

Tracey looked back at her and Hermione realized how much emotion she showed on her face. There
was pride but also cautiousness. Resolution and determination. It was nothing like the blank mask
that Hermione saw when she looked at the mirror.

“It wasn't for you,” Tracey replied.

The beautiful Slytherin girl turned on her heel, heading towards the Hospital Wing and left
Hermione Granger to her thoughts.

* * * * * *

“Quite a remarkable achievement, don't you say?”

“I knew the boy was capable but even I didn't think that such a spell would be achieved so
early. Whatever other faults he may have, he can more than make up for it with sheer power.”

“Do you think he surpasses him?”

“Right now? No, but the potential is obviously there. I told you that the motivation would be
good for him.”

“I'm still not convinced that motivating him to hate Justin so much that he creates a spell
that chains magic together is entirely necessary, but I can't argue against the results.”

“No. You can't. The boy has achieved something that few wizards in history will ever do. We
should both take pride in being part of that creation.”

“I don't take pride in a lot of things we did.”

“Come now, it wouldn't hurt you to appreciate our work for once.”

“It is done for a purpose. We plot and scheme and plan and it is promising when it all works
out, but we are both fools if we think that we are in control of everything.”

“You have too many reservations. Everything is within plan so far and there is nothing to be
done but continue onto the road ahead of us.”

“*Almost* everything. Your plan with the Muggleborn girl has gone decidedly off
course.”

“Yes. It is fate's cruel calling that I am yet again foiled by the stupidity and will of a
Muggleborn girl from Gryffindor.”

“She is a lot of things but stupid I think not.”

“She has served her purpose.”

“She has done more than that.”

“Don't fool yourself. She is just a tool that has helped him. I can not deny her assistance
in the creation of that spell, but you saw their confrontation. We can't have him rethinking
his relationship with his uncle.”

“We will disagree on that. There are certain things we shouldn't have done. To this day,
that is one the I regret the most.”

“And let us not forget whose idea that was because it was certainly *not mine*.”

“Don't think you can absolve of yourself of all culpability. You *knew* what was
happening.”

“As did you. Do not pretend you are walking the path of saints here.”

“Damn us both.”

“Indeed. We shall be damned even further, but that is our decision to enforce. There is one more
thing to be done before this year is out.”

“We have accomplished more than enough for this year.”

“Yet still, we must push on for the boy needs to learn the most important lesson.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He has to kill the Hufflepuff boy.”

“...you...he is too young for this yet! That's not supposed to happen until...”

“*It will happen!”*

“We can not! I can not stand by and let the boy commit murder at such a young age!”

“You are only delaying the inevitable. The boy will *not* be dealing with Riddle. He will
deal with Lord Voldemort and I have seen the Dark Lord in his full capacity. He will take no
quarter. He will take no mercy. Death is his calling and it envelops every fragment of his being.
He is scared of death as much as he is enraptured by it. The boy will need to know, he will need to
be able to do it when it is time.”

“He won't! He won't go through with it...”

“He will with the right motivation. That is the key, isn't it? The boy needs the right
motivation.”

“And what are you going to do, fill him with even *more* hatred?”

“No. The Hufflepuff will not antagonize the boy directly. It has been some time before I have
looked into the boy's mind, but there is a certain emotion that we can exploit.”

“I'm begging. *Please* don't do this.”

“The girl won't die, but the boy needs to believe she can. He needs to believe that there is
only one option.”

“What have we come to?”

“What it will come to in the future. The boy will have to kill several times before this war is
over. He must accept it. He must embrace it for if he doesn't, then we have failed.”

* * * * * *

**A/N: Thank you again for all the amazing reviews. You lot are truly inspiring readers. There
are only three chapters left until the end of Third Year so I hope you enjoy this last stanza. I
know how much you all liked the previous chapter, but if you thought that was going to be the
climax, then...**
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22. On The Right Track
----------------------



Harry received a return visit from Tracey and Blaise shortly after Granger left. Harry was
quieter this time, only inquiring about the Department of Mysteries agents. It was disquieting that
neither Blaise nor Tracey remembered the two agents. After their genuine confession, and it was
genuine for neither Blaise nor Tracey could concoct such a story whereby neither of them saw
Beta-Xi or Chi-Gamma, Harry did not ask again, knowing there was much larger magic at work
here.

Even more maddening was that it was Ian Davis who returned his wand, still cautious but also
claiming that there were no Department of Mysteries agents that accompanied him. Harry surmised
that it must have been a well done Obliviation but did not press on the situation. It would be no
use trying to convince three people of something they allegedly didn't see.

They departed for the night, Tracey promising to return early in the morning when Pomfrey would
discharge him from the Hospital Wing. He took the foul onion tasting potion again, dreading the
next cycle as soon as the liquid touched his tongue. It was like poison, only it was designed to
replenish him instead of killing him. Still, a slow death might have been better than tasting it
that rancid potion again.

Alone at last, he played idly with his wand, not casting a spell for Pomfrey forbid it until he
was fully healed, but thinking about the two men from the DoM. It was curious that they would go
through such lengths for a series of inquiries that culminated in a Legilimency attack. What was
their purpose? Why were they there? Most importantly, why did they presumably Obliviate everyone
who might have seen them in Hogwarts? It was a curious thing and one he resolved to bring up with
Granger again should she still wish to speak with him.

He might have been harsh in his delivery, but he honestly wanted nothing to do with that
conversation. There was enough to worry about without having to rehash the sins of the past. What
was done was done and bringing it up again would be reopening an old wound that Harry had long
learned to close. It was sealed shut as was every emotion associated with it. At least, that's
what he told himself. He knew that his return was only a month away and Vernon would be waiting for
him at King's Cross.

Gritting his teeth, Harry pushed that thought into the back of his mind, willing himself to
focus on the remaining task at hand.

There was nothing he could do about the two men from the Department of Mysteries, but there was
another mystery that was slowly starting to unravel for him. Ever since his insightful conversation
with Luna, Harry had been reviewing the year in his head. There were far too many things that went
beyond the realm of coincidence. The conception was obviously the beating at the hands of the four
bullies. Harry identified the four bullies as definitely Justin Finch-Fletchley, Ron Weasley, and
Padma Patil. He had yet to discover the identity of the mysterious fourth student.

In theory, they all had apt motivations for his beating. Justin, it seemed, was particularly
violent in nature. He had succeeded not only in convincing the others to go through with the task
but displayed above average cunning as he no doubt planted the seed of Longbottom's distrust as
well as uniting the rest of the Houses against Slytherin during the match in the forest. Yet, Harry
could find nothing he overtly did to the Hufflepuff that would have spurned such motivation. He
could never remember shaming him in battle nor did he even remember speaking more than a few
sentences to the Hufflepuff.

Ron Weasley would have been the more obvious antagonist, but Granger had repeatedly claimed that
Weasley was not someone with a proclivity to violence. While the flaming red head was prone to
verbal spouts of anger, he wasn't really the type to back it up during duels nor did he ever
project any claim of physical violence bar the occasional hallway shove. Even then, he looked
uncomfortable speaking with Justin while the Slytherins were held captive in the forest. Harry
could understand Weasley's motivations more than the others, but he trusted Granger's
instincts on this one.

Even more maddening was Padma Patil's involvement. Harry was positive that he had never done
anything untoward the Ravenclaw girl. It might have been sexist of him to think that she
wouldn't done anything violent, but it just didn't seem to fit her type as well. She was an
academic, far more studious than her Divination obsessed sister and near the top of her class as
well. While she was more than competent during duels, she fought with a practicality that
wasn't shown in Justin's brutality or Ron's recklessness. Yet, it was clear from her
comfort with Justin in the forest that she was the lone female involved in his beating. Perhaps he
simply didn't know her as well as he thought he did.

That still left an unknown fourth attacker that wasn't present during the conversations
between Justin and company in the forest. The Hufflepuff had made no mention of the fourth attacker
nor did he converse with anyone about the planning of it. Harry had to conclude that the fourth
attacker must have been from Slytherin given their relative anonymity during the plot to take down
Slytherin. Perhaps this unknown fourth attacker was unable to betray his own House but able to
attack a single member of it. There were several suspects on the list, chief among them Malfoy, but
Harry thought the rich blond didn't have the mouth to keep shut about it. Malfoy also seemed
genuinely upset while they were captured. If he was an actor, he was an excellent one.

That left the possibility of Nott, Crabbe, or Goyle. From his own memories, Harry knew it was
neither Crabbe nor Goyle for neither of them fit the physical profile of the average sized bullies.
That left the possibility of Nott. Harry was aware that Nott had an undercurrent of malevolence
about him. He inquired far too much about particular spells that could inflict physical damage and
his spell work reflected that carnality. Still, like Padma, Harry found little motivation for
Nott.

Clasping his head in his hands, Harry exhaled slowly, trying to wrap up his mind around the
origin of these attacks. It was dark and he was the lone resident of the Hospital Wing, save for
Pomfrey's presence in her private dormitory near the back of the room. Harry was still too weak
to leave the bed side and he had to stay up to take the horrible potions. Given the isolation and
silence, it was a surprise that Harry wasn't asleep, but there were too many thoughts running
through his head.

Justin. Ron. Padma. Who? Justin. Ron. Padma. Who? Justin. Ron. Padma. Who?

He repeated the stanza in his head, hoping for some divine epiphany that never came. Instead of
focusing on the fourth attacker, Harry tried to think of something that would bind the three known
attackers together. It wasn't socio-economic status for Justin was a Half-Blood with a
relatively solid middle income family while Padma was a Pureblood with a upper middle class family
that didn't rely on previous generations of wealth. Weasley, of course, was the poorest of them
all.

It obviously had nothing to do with House obligations as they were each from separate Houses.
Once again, the only common thread he could find was that Harry had never lost to either of them
during House matches or individual duels. Yet, that was true of almost all of the Third Year
students bar for Granger and a few others that had gotten the better of him when he was starting
out. Harry concluded that there was no common link between them, but if there was no common link
between them, why did they join together to inflict pain upon him?

Harry had the urge to cast a spell. Any spell. He was frustrated, unable to derive a true
motivation behind the respective attackers. He held his wand tightly, murmuring incantations
underneath his breath as he sought for a reason to cast a spell. But there was no reason as there
was no reason for those four people to join together and attack him. What could convince them?
Rather, *who* could convince them? Who was capable of such scheming and plots and plans?

“*Lumos*.”

Harry watched the small ball of light rise and illuminate his bed. As he looked up at it, a
proverbial light bulb clicked within his own mind for as the light rose, it cast shadows on the
curtains and those shadows were all connected to the single source of light. There was a
*reason* they all moved as one. It was diabolical and dangerous to even think about it, but it
made more sense to Harry than anything else he could think of.

He had to find Hermione.

* * * * * *

“Where's Tracey?” Harry asked as he returned to the Slytherin Common Room.

Pomfrey granted his release after a night of fitful sleep, deeming him recovered enough to
return to lessons. Harry had a mountain of homework waiting for him, but his first task was finding
Granger so he could speak to her about his theory. He would have involved Tracey and Blaise on the
idea, but he wanted to keep it minimal due to its sensitive and somewhat hazardous nature. He was
surprised to find that Tracey was not there to greet him upon his release and sought for her in the
Common Room, only to find that she was absent from there as well.

“Haven't seen her all day. Thought she was going to get you this morning?” Blaise replied,
taking a seat next to Harry by the fireplace.

“She was supposed to. That's unlike her.” Harry crossed his arms, trying to think of where
Tracey had gone. Perhaps he was just being self-centered, thinking that she should have been there
to greet him. Still, it was highly unlike her not to stick to her word.

“Maybe she got caught up on something. Trow had us writing these massive reviews on the forest
match, analyzing how we could have performed better and everything. He's killing us!” Blaise
moaned.

“Hope you wrote a good paper.”

“It was sub par. I did describe in fantastical detail your spell though. You think he'll
give me bonus points for knowing the origins and effects of your spell?”

“I believe that's called cheating.”

“Hardly cheating. You were the one that told me after all.”

Harry shook his head, trying hard to remember why he trusted Blaise with so much. The black
Slytherin always seemed on the cusp of revealing every one of his gory details, hopping back and
forth from ambivalent caring to maniacal freewheeling. Everything with Blaise was an act, from his
jokes and japes to his money mongering and bets. It was all a game to Blaise and he was the only
player.

“Keep an eye out for Tracey, would you? I have to find Granger, but then I need to talk to you
two,” Harry ordered.

“More trouble afoot?” Blaise leaned in close, looking around him to make sure the coast was
clear.

“In a sense. I need to confirm something with her. First, I'm famished. Got some time before
Transfiguration and I'm tired of all the sop that Pomfrey has been feeding me.” Harry stood up,
ready to go to the Great Hall.

“Low blood sugar. Far more dangerous than they would have us believe.” Blaise nodded as he
started for the door.

At the Great Hall, Harry sat down and had his first proper meal in what was likely a week. He
didn't miss the furtive glances thrown his way nor did he ignore the wide berth given to him by
every student that was under their Fifth Year. The older students didn't show such respect, but
they still took a beat to glance upon him as if he had grown a second head. Whispers and rumors
traveled fast around Hogwarts and if this first day back in the halls proved to be the norm, Harry
was in for a long day.

“What have they been saying?” Harry asked as he munched on some food.

“Oh, plenty of things,” Blaise said as he waved around his fork like it was a wand. “All the
usual rumors going around. He's great. He's a ghost. He's Merlin. He's the Dark
Lord. He's a fraud. He's a liar. He made all of it up. I keep them circulating because its
fun to tell them that you're actually a werewolf and that's why Lupin was brought
here.”

Harry actually chucked at the one as Blaise finally landed a joke. He looked around, noting the
absence of Granger from the Gryffindor table as well. He hoped that she wasn't too upset with
him over his denial to talk about his uncle. There were far more important matters at hand. Idly,
he spotted Ron Weasley instead and found that the red headed boy ducked his head when he made eye
contact.

“Curious,” Harry said.

“About what?” Blaise asked.

“How's everyone treating the Gryffindors? Tracey mentioned that they were going to attack
Granger again last night.”

“Pretty terribly to be honest. Even though the older ones at Gryffindor were giving them a hard
time. Don't know what you said to Granger all those times in that cave of yours, but it took a
lot to get her to convince the Gryffindors to go through with your plan. Speaking of stingy
Gryffindors...”

Professor McGonagall was making her way towards them, several stacks of parchment floating
behind her like a pack of well trained dogs. She stopped at every Third Year student, handing them
a paper and issuing instructions with a stern gaze that said, “You will follow my every word.”

At last, she arrived at the duo of Harry and Blaise and of course Blaise took the opportunity to
lead with a joke.

“Professor McGonagall! How kind of you to join us. Might I take those off your wand?” Blaise
stood up and offered to relieve her of the stack of parchments floating behind her.

“Sit down, Mr. Zabini and kindly keep your chatter to a minimum.”

Blaise still smiled as he sat, seemingly happy to be cowed by McGonagall. Harry curiously peeked
at the stack of papers, wondering what she was doing. With a flick of her wand, McGonagall procured
a parchment that quite obviously read *Harry Potter* along the top. She summoned a similar one
that was for Blaise and laid it before them.

**Course Track for Harry J. Potter, Slytherin**

“Of course,” Harry muttered to himself.

At the end of everyone's Third Year, there was a determination that was a combination of
personal choice and faculty input that determined the specific academic track for each student. At
Hogwarts, there were four general tracks that were specific to the school. It was Snape's
decision to start specializing at an early age instead of continuing general studies. There were
four main tracks that specific specialties within each track that students could select to cater
their studies towards their desires.

General Battle was the most popular track for the students. It generally comprised of doubling
up on Battle class and participating in classes that were geared directly towards improving their
skills in duels and matches. Since their school was primarily focused on this military regiment, a
good bulk of students usually chose General Battle or had the faculty recommended them for it.
Because of the large amount of students admitted for that track, it also had the unfortunate stigma
of being the *easy* track. Most of the students that chose that track either graduated to a
life in the Ministry, either working as an Auror or at some other capacity that would be useful for
them.

Leadership, the track Harry likely suspected he would choose, was the advanced version of
General Battle. In the Leadership track, it was the Strategy class that received a double helping
instead of Battle class. There was generally a small admittance for the Leadership track as the
name itself confined the role to very few. The select few in the Leadership track were generally
chosen for higher internships in Wizengamot offices at the Ministry or recruited at their Seventh
Year for private companies that could use their diversified skills.

Even less people were placed into the Magical Theory track. This highly specialized track had no
more than five people from each year. It was reserved for the brightest of the students, advanced
in Charms and Transfiguration as well as highly competent in Battle, Strategy, and Dueling. There
was a rigorous grading requirement for it, notably exceptionally high grades in each discipline.
Harry suspected that this would be Granger's calling.

Lastly, there was the Medical track. It required outstanding work in Potions as well as a
recommendation from Slughorn himself. While high marks in Battle and Dueling were given regard,
there was a stronger focus on Charms as well as Creatures. An understanding of both of those
allowed for placement in the Medical track. This track was often seen as those who struggled in
Battle class but excelled in other areas. It was also lucrative in that Pomfrey was one of the most
well renowned doctors in all of England and each student was almost always placed at St.
Mungo's or a similarly prestigious hospital.

“I forgot all about this,” Blaise confessed.

“A fact that doesn't surprise me,” McGonagall dryly responded. “You are to have this
submitted by the first of May. You will be given your corresponding track with your summer letter.
Please remember to fill out your desired track as well as a personal essay on why you would want to
choose that track. If you are unsure as to which track you would like to choose, please seek advice
from faculty. Also remember that a significant portion of the decision is determined from faculty
input as well.”

“What do you think I'm good for, Professor?” Blaise cheekily asked.

“I am not inclined to comment, but I dare say that any track where I have to see as little of
you as possible would be beneficial for all parties.”

“You break my heart, Professor!”

“You will recover. That I am sure of. Have either of you seen Ms. Davis?” McGonagall asked.

“Haven't seen her all day,” Blaise answered straightly for once.

Fishing out one more parchment, she handed it to Harry. “Make sure she receives this. I know
that you will come upon her some time today. Relay my instructions as well, Mr. Potter.”

With that, she left, moving down the line as she repeated the instructions for the Third Years
that were at the Great Hall. Harry stored Tracey's application behind his own, reading over the
list and requirements of each track. There was a questionnaire as well as space to write a small
essay. After that, there was a signature that was magically binding for each student.

“General Battle it is for me,” Blaise noted as he quickly filled out the application.

“I thought you would surely go for Magical Theory.”

“Your humor is as bland as your hair, Harry.”

Harry chuckled, finding his joke quite funny. Looking down at the parchment, he pulled out a
quill and marked down the appropriate boxes. Lastly, he came upon the chosen track section. He
didn't deliberate long, knowing that he wanted to take the Leadership track. He was sure that
his excellent marks in Battle, Dueling, and Strategy would help him and he fancied that Trow was
probably one of the main faculty inputs for this track. He didn't quite know what Tracey would
choose though.

“Say, are you coming to watch the House Cup later?” Blaise asked as he filed the application
into his bag. “Reckon you'll find Granger there.”

“I kind of need her before that. What time is it going to be?”

“Eight at the Room of Requirement. Admission starts at 7:30 so I reckon that if we want good
seats, we're going to have to get there early. By the way, I've started early betting. Do
you want to put money down on how long Gryffindor lasts? I have them at 4:1 that they'll last
longer than two of the years.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I'll pass.”

That explained Granger's absence. He had lost a great deal of time while and unconscious and
completely forgot that Gryffindor would be competing in the House Cup given their victory over
Slytherin during the last House match. She was probably holed in strategy sessions, trying to
hammer out all the possibilities that Snape might throw at them. The House Cup was one of the two
large events at the end of the year. It was arguably more popular than the Hogwarts Trophy in that
each year could cheer for their respective classmates.

Harry settled upon the fact that it was unlikely he would find Granger that day and any
discussion of his theory behind his attacks would do nothing more than distract her from the task
at hand. Tracey would no doubt join them for Transfiguration which left Harry with nothing more to
do than to return to the Common Room to drop off his track application and prepare for
Transfiguration with McGonagall.

Yet, when he and Blaise arrived in the Transfiguration classroom, Tracey was no where to be
found nor did she appear after the bell rang.

* * * * * * *

“Come on up! Come on up! 3 to 2 on the Sixth Year Hufflepuffs!” Blaise shouted at the top of his
lungs as the students filed in.

The RoR was designed for any requirement and the House Cup would often have the seats magically
hovering over the battle ground. There were enchantments that didn't allow interaction between
those in dueling and those spectating and those dueling couldn't even see the spectators. It
allowed those who were watching the opportunity to observe the match in real time and proved to be
an excitable affair when the House Cup rolled around.

Harry paid no attention to Blaise's clamoring, wondering why his friend liked to spin the
wheels of his gambling machine even though he was already preposterously rich due to the
inheritance of each of his mother's dead husbands. Moving down the rows, Harry was relieved to
see his reputation proceed him as several students clambered out of his path. For once, the legend
around him worked to his advantage.

“Pansy!” Harry called out as he spotted the aristocratic Slytherin girl.

She turned her head, waving him over so he could sit down in the space besides her. Pansy
Parkinson was genuinely regarded as rude and snobbish, even to those in Slytherin, but she made
time for those who could help her.

“Looking for Tracey?” Pansy presumptively asked.

“Yeah. Have you seen her?”

Pansy shook her head. “I didn't wake up early this morning, but she was already gone by the
time I made it out of bed.”

Harry scratched his head in frustration. “Do you have any idea where she went? Something she
said last night, maybe?”

Pansy shrugged again, unavailable to offer any help. “Last thing she said was that you were
going to be discharged tomorrow morning from the Hospital Wing. I assumed she was going to see you
out, but maybe she got caught up in something else?”

They exchanged a few more cursory questions about his health, but Harry left once he realized
that neither Pansy nor Daphne, who was sitting a few seats down, had any idea where Tracey was. He
was sure that he would find his best friend at the House Cup. Almost the whole school was in
attendance. It didn't make any sense for her not to show up.

The crowd roared to life as the fog cleared and they saw the stage set before them. Harry
stopped to take a look at what scenario Snape had drawn up for the House Cup. In previous years,
there had been some outlandish scenarios. During Harry's first year, Slytherin had participated
in a more modern setting of buildings that resembled modern day London. Of course, Harry had
attempted to subvert the situation by charging head on at the Fifth Year Gryffindors, but that
failed miserably. In his second year, Snape had drawn up a sprawling desert that had one student
collapse from the arid air and sand.

This year, it was set in a wetland or a swamp. Harry couldn't decide which way he wanted to
classify it as there looked to be more water than land. He could only assume that it was
oppressively humid within the scenario and that the sparse land that remained was thick with mud.
Squinting his eyes, Harry spotted the Third Year Gryffindors at the far end of the swamp. They were
quickly moving already and Harry had no doubt that Granger had formed a plan of some sorts.

Tearing his eyes away from the swamp, Harry navigated his way through the crowd until he had
reached Blaise again. Blaise was still busy taking last minute bets of winners and potential places
while creating new odds for different scenarios as well. Harry tugged him by the arm though, intent
on getting his attention.

“What is it, Harry? I'm a bit busy here,” Blaise took a Galleon from some bloke that was
betting on the First Year Gryffindors.

“No one's seen Tracey since this morning.” Harry had to yell in his ear over the loud roar
of the crowd as two groups converged in the opening minutes.

Blaise either didn't care or was too preoccupied with the betting to take serious notice.
“I'm sure she'll turn up around here somewhere! Maybe she just got caught up with work or
pulled in with one of the teachers!”

“But everyone is here...”

Harry trailed off as he stood up, ignoring the cries from behind him to sit down. He ran up to
the top bleacher, looking around but unable to find his target. There were so many students that
had arrived to watch the House Cup, so Harry took another scan of the crowd, specifically looking
for the yellow badge of Hufflepuff.

“He's here. He has to be here.” Harry was trying to will himself to believe, but the longer
his search went on, the less likely it was that he was right.

A flash of yellow caught his eye and his heart leaped to his throat in anticipation. Yet, it
wasn't the Hufflepuff he wanted. Ernie MacMillan sat there, cheering on the Sixth Year and
Second Year Hufflepuffs. It proved that the Hufflepuff house had shown up in force to get behind
their House.

“Go get 'em Diggory!” Ernie yelled.

Justin was nowhere to be found.

The crowd cheered as the First Year Gryffindors were knocked out of contention, leaving only the
Fourth Year Gryffindors as their remaining representative in the House Cup. Harry scrambled down,
dodging the sitting students and plaintively ignoring the admonishment that he should watch where
he was going. Blaise was busy counting the money in his lock safe when Harry roughly grabbed him by
the shoulder.

“Oi! Watch it here!” Blaise exclaimed as he dropped a Sickle.

Leaning down to whisper in his ear, Harry whispered, “Tracey's gone!”

Blaise rolled his eyes. “Listen, mate, I know! She'll come -”

Harry interrupted him ferociously, tired of Blaise's lackadaisical attitude.

“*So is Finch-Fletchley*.”

Blaise might not have cared about a lot of things, but his eyes widened as the implication fell
in place. He waved over to Pete, the little First Year Slytherin who had taken a knock from
Hufflepuff earlier in the year. Handing him over the lock safe with the money with explicit orders
not to take any more bets, Blaise turned towards Harry and for the first time, Harry saw fear in
his eyes.

“Let's go,” Blaise said.

Harry hurried towards the exit, weaving in and out as the crowd cheered and booed. He took one
last look back at the swamp, noticing that the Third Year Gryffindors were still involved in the
match. Though he wish he could have stayed and watched how Granger handled the match, there were
far more important matters to attend to first.

* * * * * *

“Think, Blaise. Where would he go?”

“Not where would he go. Where *can* he go? Where can he go that he would have time to hide
a student all day without anyone else noticing?”

“The Hufflepuff dormitories?”

“He would have to be excellent at Concealing Spells to do that. Couple that with the fact that
*someone* would have noticed a Slytherin in the Common Room, I find it unlikely.”

“Obviously not the Room. It's being used.”

“What about the cave? Does he know about the cave?”

“No one can get into the cave but Granger.”

“The Forbidden Forest?”

“It's a possibility, but Pansy said that Tracey went to sleep and left in the morning. Are
you telling me that no one would see Finch-Fletchley walking out an involuntary Tracey all the way
to the Forest? We're not allowed out there.”

“Where else then? Where else?”

They were rushing through the hallways, not having a particular place in mind. Harry felt as if
he were gravitating towards the Slytherin Common Room and knew it was a mistake. Justin had to have
taken here somewhere where there was relatively no traffic or some unused classroom. There were so
many options within Hogwarts that it was futile to search the place room by room.

“We have to go to Snape,” Blaise concluded, pacing back and forth. “We have to tell him! This
has gotten out of hand, Harry. Attacking each other is one thing, but we haven't seen Tracey
all day and Justin...Justin's dangerous.”

“We can't.”

“Don't be stupid, Harry. We *have* to!”

“Blaise, we can't.”

“Harry, this is Tracey we're talking about here. He's the headmaster. If we don't do
anything, then -”

“*WE CAN'T! WE CAN'T!*”

Harry's voice echoed through the hallways, but he doubted anyone heard it since almost
everyone was watching the House Cup. Harry pulled at his hair, trying to make sense of the
situation and regain control. He blamed himself for not acting sooner, for not realizing why Tracey
would possibly be gone all day without seeing him. He wasn't being self-centered. He knew in
his heart of hearts that Tracey wouldn't miss him getting out of the Hospital Wing because she
cared about him. Now, who knew what Justin wanted with her.

He looked at Blaise who was seemingly in silent shock over Harry's outburst.

“Snape is a part of all this.”

Blaise looked confounded. “What?!”

“Snape has his hands deep in all of this. That's what I was going to tell Granger!
That's what I was going to tell you and Tracey. He has to be the one setting all of this
up!”

“Harry, that's barmey. He's the headmaster. Why would he...why would anyone...”

“Because it's a test. It's all a test. He said so himself in the beginning of the year.
*You must be held to a different standard*.”

“But why?! Why would he do that?”

“Don't you think if I knew, I wouldn't be sitting here wondering where Tracey is,” Harry
snapped.

Blaise trailed off, bowing his head as he soaked in the information. Harry wracked his brain for
all the possible locations, trying to narrow it down to a concrete number of choices, but his
emotions were getting the better of him. He couldn't think straight.

“Shit,” Blaise muttered. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“What is it?” Harry agitatedly asked.

Blaise gulped, looking at Harry with genuine fear in his eyes. “I'm sorry, Harry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“I....I was one of the ones that attacked you.”

Harry stopped, feeling the bottom drop out of his stomach. Blaise looked terrified, not even
moving for his wand as if he were bracing for impact. Harry struggled to process the information,
his mind already addled from Tracey's disappearance.

“You said Snape was behind this. And...and...I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, but it
makes...makes sense to me. You have to believe me, I didn't even know what I was doing! I
don't even remember *being* there! I was there and then I was back in my room and I swear
to Merlin, Harry. I swear to the four Founders and Salazaar himself that I don't remember a
thing of it.”

Harry was shell shocked, his mouth agape and his head buzzing.

“You're the fourth?”

“I wanted to tell you! I just...oh Merlin, fuck me. Fuck me, this is my fault. If I would've
told you then you would've known how bad Justin is and fuck me. Fuck.”

Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, trying to use Occlumency to calm himself down,
but it wasn't his strong suit to clear his mind. Blaise was rambling on, cursing as he tried to
apologize, but Harry was zoned out. He had to find Tracey, but Blaise was the fourth. If Blaise was
the fourth, why did he do it? Could he trust Blaise? Why was Snape doing this? Where is Tracey? Why
did he do it? Where is Tracey? Why Blaise? Where is Tracey?

“Blaise, stop. *Stop*.”

Blaise quieted, looking down in shame as he slumped against a wall. Harry laid his head against
the concrete, desperately trying to stay the flood of questions.

“Do you know *anything* about Justin that might help us find Tracey?”

“No,” Blaise said quietly. “He's not right in the head, Harry. There's something wrong
with him.”

It was a quiet night for the sound was closeted within the Room of Requirement. The clouds hung
overhead and in the halls, the ghosts outnumbered the living. Harry tried to wrap his brain around
any potential areas that Justin might have taken her, but there was nothing obvious.

“Where would I bring her?” Harry murmured to himself.

“Not in the dormitories. Can't get to the Forbidden Forest. A classroom is too easy to find.
It has to be someplace no one goes.”

“Somewhere no one goes.”

“There's one place,” Blaise sat up, pushing off the ground to get to his feet. “I've
made exchanges there. It's as good of a place as any.”

“Where?”

“The girl's loo on the third floor. The one where Moaning Myrtle is. No one goes there.”

They were two flights above and it was a few minutes walk, but there was no time to waste. Harry
immediately broke into a dead sprint, his legs aching and stiff from all of his time in the
Hospital Wing, but he ignored the cramps. Blaise was right on his heels and the clobber of their
footsteps ringed loudly within the empty hallways. Few words were exchanged between them as Harry
prioritized Tracey's safety over Blaise's treachery. There would be time to deal with that
later.

Breathing heavily, they came to a stop as they approached the corridor that housed the haunted
bathroom. Harry peeked around the corner, making sure that Justin wasn't waiting outside with
an obvious trap. He still felt weak, not entirely up too snuff for a duel, but he reckoned he had
enough energy to deal with Finch-Fletchley.

“You think he's in there?” Blaise asked, also bent over and panting.

“I don't know,” Harry answered honestly.

Years of training and dueling were kicking in as Harry analyzed the situation. Most likely, they
could overpower Justin two on one. Even though he wasn't at optimal strength, he knew enough of
Justin's tendencies and considered himself the superior duelist. Furthermore, the addition of
Blaise went a long way of alleviating his fears and though the newest piece of information unnerved
him, there was no reason for Blaise to accompany him unless it was an elaborate trap.

Harry looked at his best friend, sweating and trying to catch his breathe and it didn't take
long to believe him. It just wasn't Blaise's signature to resort to physical violence.
Blaise was a planner, calculating and running probabilities of situations. He hated getting his
hands dirty. He always used his little First and Second year minions to run his tasks for him. Most
importantly, Harry saw no motivation for Blaise to attack him. Blaise didn't seek Harry's
glory or ranking on the Master List. Blaise was concerned about money and he had lots more of it
than Harry.

“Are you with me?”

Blaise looked up at him, the whites of his eyes contrasting darkly against his skin. He was a
little taller than Harry and would no doubt be much taller as they grew, but for now he stood of
roughly equal height to him.

Blaise Zabini nodded. “I'm sorry, Harry.”

“Don't ever be afraid to come to me, Blaise.”

Blaise diverted his eyes, shamefully looking at the ground. He recovered after a moment because
that's who he was. Resilient and always looking for an opportunity.

“Let's do this before I piss my pants,” Blaise said.

Using hand signals that were well known from their time in Battle class, they approached the
door, ready to use a tactic that they previously employed during a specific Battle class scenario
that had them breaching doors. Blaise would lead through the door, casting a shield to deflect an
initial curse while Harry would quickly file behind him, taking advantage of the slight lull and
fanning out towards the corner. Blaise would then quickly engage the initial target while Harry
cleared the rest of the room.

“Watch for Tracey,” Harry reminded him with a soft undertone.

Blaise gave a curt nod and leaned against the wall adjacent to the door, his hand on the handle.
At Harry's signal, he opened and casted *Protego* as soon as he entered. When there was no
accompanying offensive spell, he quickly moved within the doorway, making room for Harry to enter.
With one hand on Blaise's back, Harry advanced and moved to the right, his wand raised and
ready for battle.

Yet, they encountered no resistance and Harry already felt the disappointment. When it became
clear that no one was going to attack them, Blaise lowered his *Protego* and Harry let his
hand drop to the side. After making a pass around the circular sink, Harry approached the stalls.
The first one was empty and Blaise cleared the second stall as well. Their feet splashed against
the flooded ground, dirt and grime evidence of the lack of care. As Harry approached the fourth
stall, he pushed against the door only to find that it didn't budge.

Blaise immediately raised his wand, looking at the stall with some trepidation. Harry pointed
his finger down, indicating that he wanted Blaise to look and see if there was someone within.
Blaise slowly crouched down, his wand at the ready. As he placed his hands against the sopping wet
ground, Blaise immediately jumped up.

“Harry, open it! Open it! *Alohamora!”*

Taking matters into his own hands, Blaise opened the locked stall door and Harry at once saw the
reason behind his consternation.

“*TRACEY!”*

Harry grabbed her legs, trying to alleviate the pressure of the rope tied around her neck. Her
body was lifeless, limbs unmoving as she dangled there like moss hanging from a tree. Her legs were
cold and placid to the touch as Harry rose to his tip toes, trying desperately to avoid the
strangulation from the rope.

“*Diffindo!”* Blaise cast the spell as the rope was cut and Tracey came tumbling down,
Harry stumbling as he fought to keep her upright. Blaise assisted him, grabbing Tracey's arms
as they lowered her to the wet concrete

Leaning his ear down to her mouth, Harry looked up at Blaise and said, “She's not
breathing.”

Tracey's head lolled to the side, her skin pale but there was still a warmth to the touch.
It had not been long.

Taking a deep breath, Harry lowered his mouth down to hers, pinching her lips so that there was
easy access for him. He exhaled deeply into her mouth, trying to fill her lungs with air. He took
another deep breath and exhaled into her mouth again, desperate to feel any sort of reaction.

“Harry, what are you doing?!” Blaise bewilderedly asked, kneeling down next to her.

“It's CPR, I think. I've seen it in Muggle movies. Don't you know CPR? Fuck, I
don't know if this is right!”

“Are you a wizard or not?! *Spirant!”*

Tracey came back to life, her chest heaving as she gasped for air. Harry clutched at her,
helping her sit up and rubbing her arms to bring back some warmth. He rocked her back and forth,
burying his head into her hair as Tracey's breathing slowly resumed to a normal rate. His
trousers were soaked from kneeling on the wet ground, but he didn't care.

“Finch-Fletchley,” she finally gasped.

“We know,” Blaise grimly replied.

Harry pulled back, finally letting her go from his grasp. “We're sorry, Tracey. We should
have known. We should have looked for you earlier!”

Tracey shook her head, still dazed and sporting a bruise around her neck from the rope.

“He's still close.”

“How close?”

“He was waiting until the House Cup started,” Tracey struggled to speak, her throat sore and her
voice scratchy. “Said he was going to the Hospital Wing to say that he found me dead.”

Harry looked at Blaise, not wanting to let go of Tracey. Blaise simply nodded, moving towards
the girl and grasping her by the shoulders. Harry shot him a thankful look and let go of her
gingerly, not wanting her to fall to the ground.

“Go,” Blaise said softly. “Get him.”

Harry took one last look at Tracey, but she was already leaning against Blaise's chest,
rubbing the bruise around her neck.

Jumping up, Harry walked quickly towards the door. He cast a look back, watching as Blaise
whispered gentle murmurs to Tracey. She could barely keep herself up and it was only Blaise's
strong arms that kept her sitting somewhat upright. Her eyes were closed as she leaned against his
chest, but Harry could still see the bruises circled around her neck, the harsh blues looking
unfamiliar on her usual porcelain skin.

He left the bathroom, idly wondering where Moaning Myrtle had gone. The Hospital Wing was across
the castle, far away from the abandoned bathroom, but it would take little effort for Justin to get
there. There was no one else in the hallways, but judging from Tracey's state, Harry knew the
Hufflepuff would take his time to ensure that when he told Pomfrey that Tracey was dead, she would
actually be so.

Breaking into a sprint again, Harry raced through the hallways, jumping the stairs two at a time
to reach Justin before he could get to the Hospital Wing. There was a thought that he should have
just left Justin incriminate himself as Tracey was well and obviously alive, but Harry wanted more.
He wanted to quench the suddenly ravenous thirst of revenge. He could still see the bruises in his
mind's eye, plain for all to see. Justin wasn't even capable of confronting Harry face on,
so he reverted to attacking the weakest link. The word anger wasn't enough to describe what he
felt. His hands were numb and his brain had blocked out all other thoughts of Snape or Blaise's
involvement or anything Hogwarts related.

Harry was going to find Justin Finch-Fletchley and he was going to kill him.

* * * * *

**A/N: Just a couple of chapters until the end of Third Year. Hope everyone has enjoyed it so
far and I'd just like to ask about what you guys are theorizing as to what will happen next
year? I already have it plotted out, but I'm interested in perspectives based upon what
you've read so far. A couple of people have asked, but I plan for this story to finish at
around 75-100 chapters. Obviously that could change and is varied, but that's the rough length
I have for it. Keep note that how long it took to finish Third Year (roughly 25 chapters) is NOT
indicative of how long each year will be. Some will be longer. Some will be shorter.**

**Thanks again for the great reviews everyone. Keep them coming and I hope to hear from you
soon.**

**Estimated Update Time: 16 days**
 Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7
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23. Variations of Wrong
-----------------------



In the dark of night, there were two boys, one unaware of the other. One boy was of a sinister
plan, intending to take the life of another. The other boy was on a simple journey to report an
event. In a vacuum, the balance of right and wrong seemed rather obvious, but nothing could be
taken in a vacuum. One isolated event does not make a man but neither does the culmination of
several events. In truth, there was nothing that *made* a man. There was right and there was
wrong and even when it was right it was sometimes wrong. But those were heady discussions for a
later time when choices could be deliberated and men could talk freely amongst themselves. For now,
there was only action.

Harry cast a spell to muffle his footsteps, treading lightly even as he did so. Justin was
walking deliberately towards the direction of the Hospital Wing, intent on disseminating the truth
of what he did. Harry could have easily let Justin go, incriminate himself once everyone realized
that not only was Tracey alive, but she was also able to identify Justin as her attacker. But what
was the point?

If he was right and Snape was behind all of this, it could have easily just been swept under the
rug by the headmaster. If he was capable of planning a a group attack for the purpose of testing
Harry's abilities, what was the point of letting Justin walk free without so much as a slap on
the wrist and an order to stay mum on the subject? It didn't help that Harry felt an intense
rage within him. It was threatening to overwhelm him, radiating through his body like his blood was
made of fire. All he could see was Tracey hanging lifelessly in the bathroom stall, her body pale
and cold and her neck ragged with bruises.

*Kill. Kill. Kill*.

The raging mantra echoed in his head as he stealthily turned the corner and tracked Justin. The
House Cup would continue for at least another hour, giving Harry ample time and space to do what
needed to be done. The only patrols around were Filch and whoever the poor teacher who had drawn
patrol duty during the cup.

“*Stupefy.*”

Harry whispered it and expertly struck Justin in the back, feeling a grim satisfaction as the
Hufflepuff collapsed. Racing over to him, Harry quickly levitated the boy, knowing it would be
disastrous if he got caught. Given that Harry now saw Snape as acting beyond the provisions as
headmaster, he didn't know the exact punishment he would receive, but he simply couldn't
trust Snape not to intentionally hurt him again. Levitating Justin wasn't the easiest task as
he sprinted through the hallways, timing the moving staircases and avoiding the few patrols that
were out. He needed to get from one side of the castle to the other, delving deep within the
dungeons. At last, he was at his destination.

It was the alcove that led to the cave and Harry presumed it was far enough away from regular
traffic that there would be no one down this region any time soon. Racing towards the Slytherin
Common Room, Harry said the words and found comfort in the emptiness of the room and his dormitory.
He procured a blanket, charming it so it was a dull gray color that matched the ground. Upon
returning to the still stupefied Justin Finch-Fletchley, Harry covered the boy with blanket.
Satisfied that it looked nothing more than a blanket covering some random assortments, Harry made a
turn towards Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

The whole task took twenty three minutes.

“Did you find him?” Blaise asked, now standing as he ran a cloth under warm water.

Harry looked towards Tracey, who was leaning against said sink with her hand massaging her
throat.

“I got him. I need you to come with me, Blaise.”

“Of course. But why?”

“Your Disillusionment charms. I need your expertise on them until Granger gets out.”

“What do we need Granger for?”

Harry pursed his lips, not wanting to give away his plan. “I need the cave.”

“Well if you've caught him, why don't you just go to the headmaster and tell him what
that bastard did?” Tracey croaked out with her sore throat.

Harry and Blaise exchanged knowing glances. “It's not as simple as that, Tracey.”

She looked hurt and confused, her eyes wandering from Harry to Blaise and back to Harry again.
It must have been difficult to her as a brush near death would be to anyone. Most probably, she was
still in shock. Though they had their run of potentially dangerous scenarios within various House
matches, there was always the comfort that it could be called off if it ever got to dangerous. What
Justin did was outside the boundaries of their usual fights.

“You need to give me a good reason why Justin shouldn't be expelled or why the Aurors
shouldn't be here right *now*. If my father knew about this, he would hang that stupid
Hufflepuff by the balls,” Tracey growled, the color returning to her face as she got riled up.

“I would,” Harry promised. “I would hand him over right now, but I think that Snape is behind
all of this. I think he's the one that sent those bullies to beat me up.”

Tracey looked flabbergasted at the idea. “Why would he *ever* do that? He's the
headmaster!”

“Because I was one of the ones that beat Harry up,” Blaise confessed. “And I don't remember
a single thing of it.”

Tracey pinched nose, her eyes seemingly popping out of her head. “You're the fourth!?”

For once, Blaise's quick wit wasn't there to save him or deflect the truth. He had no
easy comeback or witty one liner that could salvage the situation. He simply grimly nodded,
accepting the truth of what he had done.

“But...but...how?” Tracey's voice was getting more faint as she spoke, clearly struggling
with her injury.

“There's few people in this school that can perform that type of Obliviation or even worse,
the Imperious Curse. Who else has had it out for me the entire year? It has to be Snape. It
doesn't make sense any other way,” Harry answered.

“I don't know why. I don't even exactly know how yet. But every theory I've had has
led me back to one person planning all of this. The easy thing would be to say that Justin did it,
but ever since the match in the forest and more importantly, what Blaise told me, I'm more
convinced that it was Snape and if the headmaster is behind all of this, what do you think he's
going to do if we come to him with Justin?”

“He can't do *nothing*.”

“He can,” Harry rebutted. “That's why I'm going to do something.”

“Well what are you going to do?” Blaise asked.

“I don't know yet,” Harry lied.

There was an uncomfortable silence as Blaise accidentally let the water continue to run,
absentmindedly squeezing the rag even though it was as dry as could be. Tracey was still staring at
Blaise as if she couldn't quite comprehend that he was one of the attackers. All in all, it had
been a trying hour of revelations that was catching up to her.

“Blaise, we need to go.”

He snapped out of it, finally turning off the water faucet and handing Tracey the cloth to apply
to her neck. Harry walked up to her and promptly wrapped her in a hug, relishing the relief that
washed over him to have her safe and sound.

“I'm sorry I didn't get here quickly enough,” he said.

She pulled back from him. “I knew you'd get here. Always the hero, Harry.”

Harry smiled but he didn't mean it. Giving her one last squeeze on the shoulder, he looked
at Blaise, determined to get on with it. Time was a slow sieve and every second wasted was a chance
to get caught. There was one thing that worried Harry though. He didn't want to leave Tracey
alone for a minute given the circumstances and any potential allies Justin might have. Yet, he also
didn't want her to confront her would be killer in just a matter of minutes. It was
traumatizing enough to be the target of this attack, but to complete the full circle and meet her
attacker might send her into hysteria.

“Tracey, you have to come with us,” Harry ordered. “But you don't have to see this.”

But she just nodded and pushed herself away from the sink. “I'll come with you.”

So they left, departing the flooded bathroom as the House Cup no doubt raged on within the Room
of Requirement. Their combined footsteps were strangely quiet and Harry had the urge to cast
another muffling charm over them, but he realized it would look and sound quite strange if they
were moving about with no sound from their footsteps. Fighting the urge to break into a run to
ensure that Finch-Fletchley was still comatose in the same spot, Harry willed himself to continue
his normal pace.

Thankfully, Justin was still lying underneath the blanket that Harry provided. Blaise knelt down
and whispered a few words, casting the Disillusionment Spell with precise accuracy. The blanket
adopted the pattern of the ground and one would have to literally step on Justin to know he was
there. That was unlikely since he was tucked away in an alcove.

“Now what?” Blaise asked.

Tracey had remained a few steps away as a lookout, but Harry knew it was because she didn't
want to see the Hufflepuff just yet. The pain was still too raw and she was unconsciously touching
her neck the entire time.

“We have to wait until Granger gets out. Only she knows how to get into the cave.”

“That might be a while. What's to say that his friends won't start looking for him?”

Harry thought for a moment and replied, “He must have given some excuse as to why he wasn't
going to the House Cup. It's not the kind of thing you just miss out on. I'll try to find
Granger right after the House Cup ends and then we'll deal with it from there.”

Harry made as if to walk away, but he felt Blaise's hand on his arm. Turning around and
staring at his friend curiously, Harry asked, “What is it?”

Blaise licked his lips, uncertainty written across his face. “What are you going to do to him?
If we can't give him up to Snape, what else is there to do?”

Harry looked at Tracey, unable to look towards them even though Justin was hidden under a
blanket. Her usually pristine hair was tied messily into a bun and there was a slight slump in her
posture as she leaned against a wall for support. This was his friend. She was one of his first
friends and her loyalty never wavered and she was attacked because of him. He wasn't naïve
enough to think he could have prevented it, but he couldn't let the attack go unpunished.
Turning to Blaise, Harry placidly replied without emotion.

“I know what I think I'm going to do and I think you know it just as well. Isn't that
why you're asking?”

Blaise let go of him, the usual jester gone from his visage. At last, he nodded and stepped out
from the alcove. He looked and Tracey and gulped, turning his eyes towards the ground.

“Do what you have to do, Harry.”

* * * * * * *

*CAVE. IMMEDIATE. REPEAT IMMEDIATE.*

Harry conveyed the message as best he could on the special coin that both he and Hermione held.
It had been an hour and he had sent Tracey and Blaise back to the dormitory for the time being.
Whenever the Slytherin students would return, Blaise would come back and inform Harry that the
House Cup was over and he *should* expect Granger at some point unless she was injured. Harry
didn't want Tracey to be alone, but he also didn't want her to be around Justin for an
extended period of time. No doubt her condition was fragile. Once he took care of Justin, then they
would visit the Hospital Wing.

While he would have preferred having Granger there immediately, the break did give him ample
time to draw up his plan of attack. The trickiest thing was going to be finding a way to dispose
the body. Harry had no idea whether or not Snape knew about the cave. He had to assume that he had
some knowledge about the area otherwise what good were Hogwarts headmasters? Then again, there were
mythical rumors of other areas of the castle, like the Chamber of Secrets, that supposedly existed
and were difficult to find. Would it be such a stretch to assume that Snape didn't know about
the cave?

Nevertheless, Harry wasn't going to risk it. He had to operate under the assumption that
Snape knew about the cave. Given that, Harry would have to work quickly in order to dispose of the
body before anyone discovered the remains. The more he thought about the plan, the queasier his
stomach turned. Yet, he was determined to go through with it. A morbid fantasy of killing Justin
played out in his head and the only motivation he needed was the attempt on Tracey's life.
Justin was dangerous and in order to be fully rid of the problem, Harry wanted to preemptively take
him out.

Still, the body. The kill. The explanation. No doubt other students were going to notice that
neither Justin nor Harry were present at the House Cup. The animosity between the two was well
known and they would also have to explain the presence of Tracey's neck bruises. Furthermore,
he doubted that any sort of death at Hogwarts would go by without an intense investigation. Still,
there was one underlying question that trumped all of it.

What would Snape do about it?

If the headmaster was genuinely behind the attacks on Harry, what was the point of them? What
was he trying to prove? Was Snape just trying to get Harry expelled or did he have some ulterior
motive? Even thinking about the way Snape manipulated him made Harry furious, adding to his already
addled anger over Justin's attack. He clenched and unclenched his fist, fighting the urge to
punch the wall and no doubt hurt his hand.

Harry heard footsteps around the corner and pressed into the alcove, his feet bumping into
Justin's comatose body. They were rushed, like someone was running, though that could have
easily just been an overlap of several students walking. The sounds grew louder until the unknown
person stopped, breathing heavily as they did so.

“Harry? Where are you?”

Emerging from the alcove, Harry found Blaise leaning against a wall, making yet another sprint
through the castle.

“House Cup is over. Sixth Year Hufflepuffs won if you were wondering,” Blaise said between gasps
of air.

“I wasn't wondering but thanks.”

“I saw Granger. She was stunned but it looked like she didn't take any major injuries. Did
you get in touch with her?”

Harry felt the coin in his pocket and took it out but saw no returning inscription. That
wasn't unusual. Whenever they communicated in the past, it wasn't necessary to receive a
reply to a summons.

“Not yet.”

Blaise nodded, sensing his job was finished. He stepped over to see if his work was still in
place and nodded in satisfaction as he saw the barely perceptible blanket covering Finch-Fletchley.
Stepping away, Blaise stood in the middle of the hallway, looking left and right as he heard the
students returning to their Common Rooms above them.

“Are you sure about this?” Blaise asked for the second time.

“Yes.”

The other Slytherin looked distinctly uncomfortable but kept his mouth shut. The sounds of
students roaming the hallways were still present, but they were fading. It was only a matter of
time before the Third Year Hufflepuffs discovered that Justin wasn't back at his bed. He could
only hope that Granger was ready enough to head back towards the cave.

“Do you have a plan?”

“I'm working on it.”

It would have to happen tonight. The longer they waited, the more likely it was that someone
would report Justin as missing or not present in his dormitory or the Common Room for the whole
day. Luckily, tomorrow was a Saturday and there were no classes, but that meant there were even
less excuses for Justin not to be in his dormitory. The Disillusionment Charm worked well with
still environments, but Blaise wasn't nearly advanced enough to cover the blanket if they were
carrying Justin out of the castle.

“I have one,” Blaise said.

“You do?”

“Make it look like an accident. That or make it look like a suicide like he did to Tracey.”

“Slytherin indeed,” Harry softly said.

Blaise looked sick at the thought of even bringing it up, but Harry always knew he had an apt
skill at planning events and coordinating efforts. Harry was so concerned about killing him and
ditching the body that he hadn't even thought of trying to frame Justin.

“You don't have to be here. I can do it myself,” Harry said.

Blaise clenched his jaw like he was internally struggling with the decision. “I was part of what
led to this. If I told you earlier, maybe Tracey wouldn't have...”

“You couldn't have known.”

“But I did know,” Blaise countered. “I knew exactly what Justin was capable of and said nothing
about it. I - I should see this through.”

Far be it for Harry to ignore any help. He would need every hand on deck to pull this off. As if
on cue, a solid set of footsteps clattered against the stair case that spilled out to this
particular junction. Blaise stilled and Harry didn't bother trying to hide himself. It was
somehow less auspicious to have two Slytherins conversing in the dungeons as opposed to one by
himself. Besides, it could only be one person that explored this area of the dungeons.

Hermione Granger appeared as she descended the staircase. She looked haggard, her hair more
unkempt than usual and knotted in a messy bun and she carried herself like the burden of fatigue
was on her shoulders. Even in her expression, she was displeased to make this journey. She stopped
cold at the bottom of the stairs when spotted Blaise.

“I didn't know we were taking on more of your friends,” she started coldly.

“He already knows everything. This is something more concerning,” Harry said.

“Then what is it?” The annoyance in her voice was evident as was the action of placing her hands
on her hips.

“I need to get into the cave.”

“Is that all? Why?”

“Can I explain inside?” Harry offered.

Granger looked around as if she were noticing their rather open surroundings. She took a weary
look at Blaise but nodded her head, stepping towards the magic wall. With a few wand movements and
an incantation that Harry couldn't hear, the bricks started folding within themselves,
revealing the muddy pathway towards the cave. Blaise's jaw dropped and Harry forgot that his
friend had never seen the cave.

Taking a deep breath, Harry pointed his wand towards Justin's body and slowly levitated it
off the ground. Granger didn't miss a beat and already had a hand on her wand when Harry turned
to her. Blaise stood in between them, still shocked at the magical opening.

“What is that?” Granger carefully asked.

“Who is that is probably the better question,” Blaise quipped.

“Who it is doesn't matter right now. We need to get into the cave,” Harry said in a clipped
voice.

Granger stood her ground, purposefully blocking the narrow entrance this time.

“Tell me who that is, Potter,” she commanded.

Harry ground his teeth together, trying to keep his patience. “It's Finch-Fletchley. He
attacked Tracey.”

Momentarily conflicted, Granger had to take a moment to consider her options, but the pragmatist
within her knew that it wasn't safe to have a hovering body in the hallway. She relented,
taking the lead towards the cave and peppering Harry with questions.

“What do you mean he attacked her?”

“He hung her up in the first floor bathroom. Tried to make it look like a suicide,” Harry grimly
answered.

Granger gasped, one of the first times Harry had ever seen her show abject surprise. Their feet
splashed against the mud, dirtying their clothes even further. Harry made a mental note to cast a
cleaning spell once they were clear of any debris. There was a catalog of things that needed to be
done in order for this to work, but Blaise's idea of making it look like an accidental suicide
seemed to be the best. The only problem was getting Granger to agree with it. To that cause, Harry
played up Tracey's injuries.

“She must have been hanging there for a couple of minutes by how blue she was. Neither of us had
seen her since the morning and she said that Justin was waiting until the House Cup to hang her and
make it look like a suicide. The bastard couldn't even attack me.”

Granger shook her head, trying to wrap her immaculate brain around the fact that Justin would do
such a thing. Usually, she was an automatic delivery line of questions, but it seemed as if the
madness of the situation had silenced even her usual loquacious self.

The unlikely quartet entered the cave, the lights dimmed low as the refractions from the lake
above played with the shadows. Perhaps on instinct, Granger walked towards the solitary desk,
pulling out a chair and sitting heavily. She was massaging her left leg, looking to be favoring it.
In the mean time, Blaise looked up at the glass ceiling, marveling at the strange structure.

“How did you find this?” Blaise asked, momentarily forgetting about their hostage.

“Luck.” Granger gave her customary short response to that question.

Harry unceremoniously dropped Justin's body, interrupting Blaise's revere and catching
Granger's attention. He looked from her to Blaise, trying to get a feel of what they were
thinking. Blaise was queasy and it didn't take an expert judge to figure that out. As Harry had
theorized earlier, Blaise didn't like getting his hands dirty and that character trait was
evident in this moment. Granger was more difficult to decipher. Harry thought she would instantly
disprove, but she sat there, and Harry expected that he would have to give a better explanation of
what he was about to do.

“I need to find out why he did it,” Harry declared.

Blaise nodded, accepting whatever had to be done in order to assuage him of his guilt. Granger,
on the other hand, was still as stone, no doubt calculating whether it was worth it to continue on.
Harry looked right at her, imploring her to go along with his plan. A few moments passed and no
words came out of her mouth so Harry took that as implied acceptance.

Conjuring a blindfold, Harry flicked his wand and wrapped it around Justin's now uncovered
head. Blaise was still looking up at the lake, seemingly ignoring what was about to happen while
Granger sat stoically in her chair, her arms crossed and a hard look on her face. Taking a deep
breath, Harry uttered the reviving charm and awoke Justin Finch-Fletchley.

The Hufflepuff boy came to slowly, wriggling around on the ground with his hands still roped
behind his back and his wand in Harry's possession. At once, he started panicking, no doubt
from the combination of restraint and manufactured blindness. Harry let him squirm for a moment,
the only sound being the soft hush of the lake above and the scratches of clothing against
rock.

“Wh - what is this?! Potter, is this you again? Potter!” Justin squirmed on the ground, trying
to get a firm standing but failing to do so.

Blaise shifted on his feet, pointedly not looking their direction as he continued to busy
himself with distant shapes in the lake. Granger was unmoved from her position but her chest was
rising with a more pronounced shape, her intense gaze centered on Justin.

“You tried to kill Tracey,” Harry uttered in a dead tone.

Justin stilled, visibly gulping as he continued to escape from his bindings. He didn't
respond, only shimmying back and forth to try and find some purchase to cut his bindings. His lack
of response was a practical admission of guilt.

“You almost succeeded. She's still alive though.”

His actions became more frantic, his breathing heavily labored as he attempted to get to his
feet but without his arms for support, he was struggling to do so. He finally got onto one knee,
but Harry simply walked up to him and placed his foot against his shoulder, knocking him over like
a bowling pin.

“Why'd you do it, Justin?”

The Hufflepuff tried to get on his feet again, looking abysmally pathetic as he rolled around on
his back, gritting his teeth as he scratched his bare hands against stone. Once or twice, he
managed to get some solid footing, but Harry simply kicked him over again, circling him with a
predatory stalk.

“Why, Justin?”

He gave up trying to get on his feet, exhaling loudly through his nose as the sweat became
visible on his forehead and neck. Justin licked his lips, still not answering Harry's question.
Harry continued to circle him, his wand held loosely in his hand as he circled around Justin.

“You need to tell me. You need to tell me everything, right now.”

When Justin refused to respond again, Harry stowed his wand and walked over to the bound and
blindfolded Hufflepuff. Hauling him to his feet by the scruff of his shirt, Harry easily manhandled
him despite Justin's larger frame. The adrenaline was rushing through his body as he dragged
the boy towards the pool of water near the back of the cave, ignoring his protestations. Roughly
shoving him to the ground, Harry ignored Justin's cries of pain as the boy's knees
clattered roughly against the ground.

“*TELL ME WHY, JUSTIN!”* Harry roared, the anger spilling over.

Justin's chest rose and fell like a quick metronome, but he still didn't answer.
Grabbing the back of Justin's hair and placing the flat of his right palm against the center of
his back, Harry shoved Justin's head into the water. The Hufflepuff flailed wildly, rolling his
body as he tried to raise his head from the water, but Harry's grip was too strong. After
roughly thirty seconds, Harry pulled him up roughly by his hair.

“Why, Justin,” Harry hissed into his ear.

Justin gasped, trying to inhale air instead of water. “P-p-potter, stop it! Stop it,
please!”

Harry dunked his head again, pushing Justin against the ground so that he wasn't even on his
knees anymore. The Hufflepuff could do nothing but try to roll his body, but with his hands bound
and Harry expertly pinning him down due to years of similar treatment from Dudley, he could do
nothing but try and hold his breath to prevent water from invading his lungs. In truth, Harry
already had a particular method that could have easily procured the information he wanted, but
there was a deep desire to inflict pain upon Justin.

“Stop it, *please!*” Justin cried as Harry lifted him again. Harry didn't know if it
was tears or just water running down his face, but he didn't care. He wanted it to hurt.

As Harry prepared to lower his head again, Justin cried out, “I'll tell you! I'll tell
you!”

Harry paused, then grabbed Justin roughly by the hair and forced his head into the water again.
He relished Justin's fight against him as he forced him deeper into the water, holding him
there for a longer period of time. Harry wanted Justin to know how Tracey felt as she was dangling
there in the bathroom. Harry wanted Justin to feel the life slipping from him. Justin's
struggles started to wane as his body fatigued and the kick in his legs grew weaker. It was
approaching a minute when Harry heard the chair screech behind him.

“Potter, that's enough.” Granger stood up, no wand in her hand but intent in her voice.

Harry released his hold on Justin and the Hufflepuff flipped over, snot and tears running down
his face though it was near indistinguishable with the water from the small pool. His breathes
rattled between gasps and small whimpers, such was the extent of Harry's attempted drowning.
Blaise had not yet moved from his position, still seemingly entranced by the water above and
ignoring the water below. Granger's face was inscrutable, a carefully managed expression that
betrayed neither acceptance nor denial.

Standing over Justin, Harry placed a foot on his chest, reliving all of the tactics Dudley had
used against him.

“Are you going to tell me now?” Harry asked calmly.

Harry felt the rise and fall of Justin's chest as his foot was placed upon it. Each breath
was an admission of guilt and Harry was not going to leave this cave without finding out why Justin
did it. It would be easy to blame it on pure malice, but to Harry, there was an understanding of
the situation that he didn't quite feel was correct.

“I just -” Justin started, “-I just hate it. I hate everything you do, Potter.”

“And that's reason to kill Tracey?”

“Your bitch deserved it.”

Harry stilled, his breathing slowing to a constant low rate. He looked up at Granger, green
meeting brown. She pursed her lips, subtly shaking her head before turning around and sitting back
in the chair. That was answer enough for him.

Harry twirled his wand in his hand, letting loose some sparks for imaginative effect. Justin
flinched, recognizing the sound of magic when he heard it. He tried scrambling away as limited as
he could, fearing the worst as Harry eyed him down while Blaise and Granger did their best to
ignore the impending situation.

“Potter, don't. I'm - I'm sorry! Is that what you want? I'm sorry!”

“Do you know what they say about me, Justin?”

“They call you a lot of things!”

“Have you heard the rumor that I can read minds?”

“Yes, yes, but...”

Harry licked his lips and raised his wand, standing over the cowering Hufflepuff with Granger
and Blaise to his back.

“*Legilimency*.”

The slight drownings must have had an effect on the sluggishness of Justin's mind because
Harry found it laughably easy to slosh through his memories. He waded through them, easily picking
out fragments of his childhood and his years at Hogwarts. There was his domineering father, always
encouraging him to get involved and allow himself to become a public leader. There was his absent
mother, more obsessed about social niceties and entertaining guests rather than raising her
son.

Harry plucked a memory of himself besting Justin in a rather tame duel and felt the humiliation
from the Hufflepuff. It seemed as if Justin took it far more seriously than Harry had even though
there wasn't anything in the duel that resembled anything that would require such a humiliated
feeling. A combination of self loathing and jealousy overtook Justin in this memory as he watched
Harry be placed tenth on the Master List at the beginning of Third Year.

Then, Harry was in a darkened hallway and there was a figure in the distance, shimmering and
cloaked. Harry waited, knowing this was the turning potential turning point of Justin's
memories, but it vanished and he was suddenly encased in a vast white room that stretched on to
either side for eternity. Harry whirled around on the spot, trying to find another memory to latch
onto, but all he saw was nothingness.

*Impossible*.

There was no way that Justin was skilled enough to block out his memories like this. Even
Granger had subtle ripples of uncertainties when she blocked him out. This blankness was perfect, a
complete sheet that absorbed that part of Justin's memories. It was skilled, advanced, and
required an expert.

The drip, drip of the pool and the cool aesthetics reminded Harry that he was back in the cave
as he exited Justin's head. The Hufflepuff was lying prone on the ground, unmoving. The blood
had drained from his face and he was speechless, his mouth hanging open in shock. Furious, Harry
enchanted him again.

“*Legilimency!”*

He reappeared in that same blank nothingness and frustratedly coiled out his mental attacks,
rapidly searching for that memory that could explain so much. Yet, he was thwarted again by the
surprising emptiness of Justin's head. Harry, though, had practiced enough Legilimency to know
that it didn't quite *feel* alright. The mental defenses seemed fabricated and unnatural,
definitely not something Justin could create by himself.

Pushing himself through Justin's head, he burrowed into the nothingness while seeking out
various other memories, trying to overwhelm the erected defense. He was ripping the
Hufflepuff's mind apart, desperately reaching for that flailing image of a man in a cloak in
the dark. Harry thought he was making progress until he found himself back in the cave and being
violently shaken by one Hermione Granger.

“Harry, stop it! You're going to kill him!” she yelled.

Indeed, Justin was curled into a the fetal position, shaking and sweating as blood poured from
his ears. His teeth were chattering together and Blaise had his wand out but looked unsure as to
what he could possibly do to help. Harry stepped back, lowering his wand as he tried to check his
anger. He was so close to finding out who the man in the cloak was.

“He knows, Granger. He knows the person behind all of this,” Harry growled.

“Person behind what?!”

“Behind *everything*! I don't know if he was put up to it, but there has been someone
in charge of everything happening to me. And - and - I think I know who it is.”

“But what does Justin have to do with it?” she asked.

“Because he needed a planner. He needed someone to direct his anger. I felt it Granger and if
you performed Legilimency on him, you would feel it too. He *hates* me, but he needed a push -
a prod - and whoever provided that is also skilled enough to completely block out a certain section
of his head from Legilimency. Who do you think that is?”

She gulped, not wanting to answer even though she had her suspicions as soon as Harry started
talking. Granger looked down at Justin, still clutched in the fetal position bar the shaking and
sweating.

“It can't be Snape.”

“It *can* be. We don't know if it is, but it makes a hell of a lot of sense.”

“And if it is, Harry. If you're right about it being...*him*...then what is this? What
is this supposed to accomplish? I am not comfortable with this. I am not - I am not going to be a
part of this. What's your end game, Harry? What are you going to do now?”

Harry turned away from her, taking a few paces away as he stepped towards the pool of water.
Blaise hung by the sidelines, too enraptured by their conversation to say anything else. His head
simply shot back and forth like he was watching a particular entertaining Quidditch match. In the
midst of all was the catatonic Justin Finch-Fletchley lying on the ground.

“I'll take care of it,” Harry dismissively said. “Take Blaise out of here and I'll wrap
up the rest. No need for you to be here.”

But Granger didn't leave. In fact, she didn't even move.

“You didn't answer my question,” she re-iterated.

There was a change in the atmosphere as a sudden tension filled the air. Gone was the threat and
reluctance of Finch-Fletchley. Instead, there hung an unanswered question, floating between them
like a massive blanket covering the Gryffindor and the Slytherin.

“Don't, Granger,” Harry warned. “I said I would take care of it.”

“What you're implying is very dangerous, Harry. It's - I can't do that.”

“You don't have to. That's why I'm telling you to leave.”

Granger shook her head, her bushy ringlets swiping across her face. “That's not what I
meant. I can't let *you* do that.”

She flexed her hand, expertly letting her wand drop from the hidden wrist holder under her
robes. The wand was at her side, not raised in an offensive or defensive manner, but the message
was clear as the water above them. There was a stillness to her body, but her feet were at shoulder
length, ready to pivot at a moment's notice while her body held a loose tenseness, coiled and
ready to strike. It was a dueling pose.

“He tried to kill Tracey. I can't let him do it again. If I let him go, that's exactly
what's going to happen.” Harry tried to appeal his case, realizing that Granger wasn't
bluffing.

“We can turn him into Snape. We can tell people what he tried to do to Tracey.”

Harry scoffed. “That's not going to do anything. Snape won't do a damn thing.”

“And what happens after you do what you do?” Granger snapped. “What happens when the Aurors come
to investigate and they start asking questions? What do you think will happen if a Hogwarts student
*dies*?”

“Snape won't let it come to that. He'll hide it.”

“And what if you're wrong, Harry? What if you're wrong and you're just throwing away
your life in a moment of madness?”

Harry gulped, feeling the magic thrum through his wand arm into his wand. He didn't dare
move his feet and give away his first plan of action and started noting advantages and
disadvantages of his surroundings. It was a wide and open cave, save for the pool of water, that
offered little natural protection. It would be a straight forward duel, a direct attack of magic
against magic.

“I'm not wrong.”

Granger's face hardened, realizing that he was set in his ways. Internally, she was
conflicted as she knew that any attempt to harm another student should be met with swift
punishment. Yet, she couldn't possibly condone what Harry was implying. She couldn't
possibly let Harry *kill* Justin.

“I can't let you do this. We can still go to someone else. McGonagall, maybe.”

“Aren't you listening?” Harry hissed. “Snape has his hands everywhere. What do you think
Justin's going to say? He knows about the cave. He knows about the Legilimency. He knows about
everything! Unless you've somehow learned the Memory Charm overnight, he's not going to
forget this.”

Granger shifted her body ever so slightly and Harry mirrored her as he was trained to do. She
opened up so she was facing him head on, her grip still loose on her wand.

“There's another way. We go to Snape directly. Tell him that he needs to have Justin on a
gag order or else we tell the school board about how he tried to kill Tracey. If Justin says
anything, we have three witnesses that say otherwise and that he's making all of it up,”
Granger reasoned.

Harry laughed, but it was dark and humorless. “Blackmail the headmaster of Hogwarts? I thought
you were supposed to be the brightest witch of our generation.”

“It's better than what you're planning.”

Abruptly cutting his laugh short, Harry warned her one last time. “Just let it go, Granger.”

There was a moment of hesitation and Harry genuinely thought that she would just leave the cave
and let him deal with Justin directly. Instead, she set her feet with a resigned look on her
face.

“I can't.”

In between the powerful Gryffindor and Slytherin stood another Slytherin, watching the exchange
with fascination and trepidation. When Granger declared her disapproval of Harry's plan, he
sensed a finality in her tone and a declaration of battle. Neither of them were willing to back
down on this issue and it looked to be that words were not going to be enough to settle this
particular fight.

“Oh Merlin's balls, this is not going to be pretty,” Blaise said.

* * * * * * *

Instinctively, Harry attacked first, the adrenaline and rage that accompanied his brief spat
with Justin fueling him past discretion. Reflexively, Granger deflected his weak stunner with a
shield and parried quickly with a combination of a Whiplash Hex and a Scorching Mark. Nimbly
avoiding both by shuffling his feet, Harry flicked his wrist and conjured a large net that was
intended to trap and disable her. Undeterred, Granger cut it down with a Cutting Hex and was
surprised when the net multiplied upon her curse. Thinking quickly, she sent four different
fireballs at the multiplied nets, burning them to ashes so they couldn't multiply.

“New tricks, *Potter*?” Granger used his surname snidely.

Instead of verbally answering her, Harry cast his *Venka* charms around her, producing
several area trigger trip wires that were invisible to both of them.

“*Venka! Venka! Venka!”* Granger countered, using his spell against him.

Harry had to carefully move now for a single trip up could prove disastrous. It didn't
surprise him that she learned the spell he used on her earlier in one of his lessons. If nothing
else, Granger was very resourceful and researched every detail to the minutiae.

It was Granger's turn to go on the offensive as she attacked viciously, using a dizzying
combination of Stunners mixed with offensive spells that ranged from Cutting Hexes to Tripping
Jinxes. She varied the combination, keeping Harry off guard as he used a mix of *Protego*
shields, physical dodging, and countering with defensive spells that would clash against hers. In
the middle of it all, Granger was enchanting something between spells, expertly keeping a steady
stream of attacks so that Harry had no opening to attack.

She relented for a moment and Harry delayed his attack to get a better handle of the situation.
Neither of them had broken into a sweat, such was their regiment and training during classes.
Granger was as skilled as she had been previously when they fought in the beginning of the year,
but she didn't have to hide behind jagged rocks to deflect his spells this time. She was more
than game enough to take the fight to him head on.

Harry jumped forwards, closing the distance between them so that Granger didn't have so much
room to fight him remotely. Pounding her with *Stupefy* after *Stupefy*, Harry pushed her
back towards a wall, trying to pin her down. Breaking a string of his spells, Granger spun on the
spot and spoke a spell he didn't understand. At once, he was surrounded with five
*different* Grangers.

Stepping back, Harry whirled around on the spot, producing a few shields as the different
Grangers branched out in a variety of attacks. The five quickly surrounded him, proving that it
wasn't just a mirror of whichever one was the original Granger. He leaned from foot to foot,
careful not to displace his weight as he defended himself from the onslaughts. There were obvious
limitations of this spell as each Granger could only attack at once, telling Harry that she was
controlling them separately. It was certainly a feat of magic.

Too bad he had the perfect spell to cancel it out.

“*Fulminare!”*

It wasn't as strong as his version in the forest, but the chain lightning spell still did
the trick. It struck one of the Grangers and leaped to the others, until the real Granger deflected
it with a shield. Such was the strength of the spell that the shield was not enough and she had to
leap out of the way as a crack of lightning smashed against a stone wall of the cave. Granger came
to her feet, panting and showing some signs of fatigue.

“You've been holding back,” Harry commented.

“Hogwarts doesn't end at Third Year,” Granger replied, walking in a wide circle around
him.

“Why are you protecting Justin?”

“I'm not protecting him. I'm trying to protect you, you idiot,” she hissed.

“This is what I have to do. He hasn't given me any other choice.”

“You can't just kill people, Harry. Even after everything Justin has done, you can't
just kill him for retribution. These kinds of decisions aren't made unliterary by us and
certainly not by you. Justin deserves to be punished for what he did but not by you - and not like
this.”

“You and I both know that nothing will happen to him. We'll turn him into Snape and Snape
will pretend to do something, but if I'm right, then he'll just be back in the hallways in
no time. He'll call it a *misunderstanding* or part of *Hogwarts Battle School*.”

“If you're right, we'll cross that bridge when you get there. Justin hasn't seen
anything. He's been blind folded and unconscious this whole time. No one will believe a word he
says after they find out that he tried to kill Tracey. Harry...*please*.”

She had lowered her wand to her side, her tone desperate as she pleaded for Justin's life.
It infuriated Harry to no degree that she would take a stand for someone as vile as that
Hufflepuff, but he could see the reason behind her argument. Frankly though, he wasn't
interested in reason. Harry identified Justin as a threat that could not be put down by
embarrassment or shaming. He didn't have the resources to keep track of the Hufflepuff all the
time nor did he have the ability to protect his friends during every waking minute of the day.

There was only one thing left to do.

Harry turned towards Justin, still blind folded and lying on the ground. He made one step
towards him, raising his wand as he cast the spell against him. Granger watched helplessly, too
slow to react as Harry opened his mouth to say the words.

“**HARRY, NO!”**

* * * * * * *

It was a long walk to the headmaster's office. Every step felt heavy to Harry, trudging
slowly but with a purpose. His face was pulled in a terminal scowl, his robes wrapped tightly
around him as the air of the spring night still had remnants of the long winter. Almost everyone
else was bound to be asleep by this time, but no doubt the headmaster could be found in his
quarters.

He approached the gargoyle that signified the entrance of the headmaster's office. Pulling
the arm, Harry heard the internal gong within. It was commonly known to students that one pull of
the gargoyle's right arm would alert the headmaster of someone at the entrance. Previously,
other headmasters had used various passwords, but Snape found it too tiresome to keep others out.
He had different security functions within.

Harry patiently waited, dreading the conversation that was to come. He had to confront Snape. He
had to tell him about what he did. If nothing else, any reaction from the headmaster would prove
his meddling in the matter. After a requisite wait, the gargoyle turned aside and Harry was greeted
with Headmaster Snape, dressed in pressed black robes and *not* looking as if he had just been
asleep.

“Mr. Potter. What brings you here in this hour,” Snape said as if he didn't know anything at
all.

“There's been an incident,” Harry dully answered. “I need to speak with you in private about
it.”

After a beat, Snape turned around wordlessly and Harry took the implication and followed him
inside. Together, they ascended the spiral staircase until they reached the door to his office.
Snape placed his hand against it and the door briefly glowed before opening for its master. Inside,
the office was plain and meticulous, each instrument placed specifically where it was supposed to
be. His desk was cleared save for a quill balanced on top a bottle of ink. Snape took a seat behind
it, simultaneously seeming languid and alert at this hour.

“What has happened that requires my attention at this hour of the night?” Snape asked in a way
that sounded insulted yet interested.

Harry swallowed down some anger, already having rehearsed this speech.

“Earlier tonight, during the House Cup, Justin Finch-Fletchley of Hufflepuff tried to kill
Tracey Davis. He tried to hang her in the flooded girl's bathroom on the First Floor. She can
attest to not only being kidnapped but also suffering from near strangulation at his hands.
Finch-Fletchley has also attacked me in the hallways, beating me severely earlier in the year. You
told me once if I had to tell you something that you would be there, so here I am.”

“Mr. Finch-Fletchley has been missing from his dormitories tonight. I assume that you have found
him then?” Snape crossed his hands on top of each other as he leaned back on his high back
chair.

“I have...”

“And?”

Harry paused, staring straight into the headmaster's cold, dark eyes. His hair was slick and
oily, pulled back from his face, enhancing the sharp scowl and the hooked nose. He had an aura of
placidness about him, but Harry knew that the snake was lying in wait beneath the surface. There
was an undoubted power with Snape, restrained yet *there*.

“I need your assurance,” Harry said.

“Assurance of what?”

“You need to make sure that Justin can't do this again. You need to make sure that Justin
won't come near me or my friends for as long as we are in Hogwarts. You need to make sure that
students won't try to *kill* other students at this school. I understand the bad publicity
it would bring to you if there were stories about one student trying to kill another so that's
why I'm coming to you. Justin needs to be punished. I don't ever want to have to worry
about him again.”

Harry let loose with his conditions, knowing full well that Snape might just ignore all of it.
In the end, Granger was right as she almost always was. He couldn't kill Justin, not here and
not now. Harry had simply stunned Justin and stalked off, cursing everyone around him as Blaise
watched on with his jaw hanging open at the display. They had dropped Justin off at the Great Hall,
unconscious and free.

“I see.”

Snape looked down between his hands, holding his ever present poker face. Still, Harry detected
a slight frown of disapproval. Or was it concern? Was it acceptance? It was hard to read the
imperceptible headmaster.

“He's in the Great Hall. I suspect he'll have a story to tell, but I want your assurance
that he will be left alone,” Harry repeated.

He almost told him*,”*Or else.”

But there was no use trying to blackmail Snape. He would either do it or he wouldn't and
Harry would have to deal with the fallout either way. If it happened again, then Harry was
completely prepared to deal with the consequences of punishing Justin himself, but for now, this
would be done in another way.

“You have my assurance,” Snape said slowly, nodding once.

Nodding, Harry licked his lips, standing up as the metaphorical monkey still clawed at his back.
He turned to leave, wanting to keep the conversation short. At the door of the headmaster's
office, Harry stopped and turned around.

“By the way, headmaster...”

Snape looked up, his countenance blank.

Harry whispered the spell underneath his mouth, raising his wand ever so slightly. His mind was
instantly within the headmaster's and he found himself in that same blank space that was
present in Justin's mind when he had interrogated him. Knowing that the headmaster was probably
as accomplished of an Occlumens as he could find, Harry did not attack. Instead, he sent a
message.

*I know*.

Harry pulled out of his head, meeting Snape's ever blank gaze. He kept his calm, adjusting
his glasses as it slipped down his nose. His green eyes never wavered, unflinchingly returning the
headmaster's straightforward stare.

“Good night, headmaster.”

“Good night, Mr. Potter.”

* * * * * * *

**A/N: The next chapter is the last chapter for Third Year. There will be two interlude
chapters before the Fourth Year begins. I hope everyone enjoyed this update and let me know what
you thought about it with your reviews. Next chapter's author's note will have a lot of
information about the future of this story so pay attention to that.**

**Estimated update time: 21 days**
 Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7
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24. Fulminare
-------------



The next morning, Justin Finch-Fletchley left Hogwarts under the guise of familial obligations.
Neither the boys in his dormitory nor any other Hufflepuffs saw him leave, but Professor Lupin had
informed them of his departure. The slight amount of gossip quickly made its way to Slytherin ears
and it was Blaise who heard it first.

“Justin's gone,” Blaise said in low tones as he dug in for breakfast.

The recipient of his message nodded, his black hair falling across his glasses as he skewered a
banger with vicious retribution. Though it fell short of the capital punishment he wanted to
inflict the previous night, it was a small victory nonetheless. Harry Potter could now rest easy
for the year knowing that his main antagonist wasn't in the closet. That wasn't to say
there were no other dangers at all, but at least he wouldn't have to constantly look over his
shoulder for that certain Hufflepuff.

“Snape kept his word then,” Harry commented.

“Bastard better.” Blaise grumbled, chancing a look at Tracey.

Sandwiched between the two boys was an unusually quiet girl. To the naked eye, she looked to be
fine, but Harry and Blaise knew that she had used copious amounts of makeup and charms to cover the
series of bruises around her neck. It had taken plenty of coaxing and wildly evasive answers to
Pansy before Tracey had emerged to accompany them for breakfast. Frankly, neither of them wanted to
leave her alone for any extended period of time after the ordeal she had suffered. Worst of it all
was that she could hardly tell anyone else about it.

“You feeling okay, Tracey?” Harry asked in genuine concern.

“Great! I'm glad that he's gone,” she said in a chipper voice.

Harry and Blaise exchanged glances and the latter shrugged. It was hard to tell what Tracey was
feeling and unlocking this mystery was not quite Harry's expertise. He knew that he would have
felt more than perturbed had he been on the brink of death so obviously Tracey's reaction was
slightly unnatural at best. He would have to keep his eyes on her.

“Did you choose your Track? McGonagall said they have to be due in a couple of days.” Harry
continue to spurn the conversation with her.

“Harry's probably not going to get picked for General Battle, the prick. He's going to
leave us,” Blaise said.

“You don't know that. With the way Snape hates me, he'll probably put me in General
Battle anyways.”

“You have to stay with us!” Blaise implored.

“I was actually thinking of taking Medical,” Tracey quietly interjected.

Blaise froze, perplexed as to why she would choose that Track. Then, realization dawned upon
him.

“You're *both* leaving me!?” Blaise cried.

Tracey blushed as she mixed around some scones.

“Well, I do have really high marks in Potions. It's always been my best subject. Slughorn
has said multiple times that I would work well in an Apothecary. My Creatures grade is passable
and...well, let's face it, I'm just not that good at Battle class.”

“That's not true!”

“You're underselling yourself!”

Blaise and Harry protested respectively, trying to make their case. Blaise was concerned that he
was going to be taking extra classes of Battle class without either of his friends while Harry was
curious as to why she would choose the Medical track. She had previously never expressed such an
interest. Then again, Harry had never really asked. He just assumed they would most likely be in
General Battle.

“I - I - I mean I don't even know if I'll get in. The teachers will probably recommend
me for General Battle since my Creatures grade isn't as high as it could be, but - I think - I
think I'm going to put in for Medical,” Tracey stuttered and stammered.

Blaise was speechless, utterly flabbergasted that he was going to be alone in General Battle. He
thought for sure that Tracey would at least be there with him as Harry was always destined for
bigger and better things, but even she didn't want to be in General Battle anymore. Harry sat
there contemplatively, still trying to make good with Tracey's choice.

“Whatever you choose, I'm sure you're going to be great at it.” Harry finally said.

She was allowed to choose what Track she wanted. After all, Harry wasn't going to be in
General Battle either and Blaise wasn't making a fuss about that. Just because everyone
expected Tracey to be in General Battle didn't mean that she would *have* to be there.

“Good for you,” Harry added.

“Thanks,” she gratefully responded.

Blaise continued to shake his head, oblivious, or seemingly oblivious, of Tracey's guilt in
choosing Medical.

“I can't believe you're both leaving me.”

“We're still going to be taking most of our classes together, dolt.” Harry reached over to
smack Blaise on the arm. “It's just the specialization classes that are different.”

“That really makes me feel better. Draco Malfoy leading the charge for the Slytherins. I'm
sure that will go well,” Blaise sarcastically said.

“We'll still be in the classes, Blaise,” Harry wearily repeated. “I'm pretty sure
we'll still be in the same dorm as well.”

“Still,” Blaise grumbled as he picked into his loaf.

The dark Slytherin's disgruntledness carried on for most of breakfast though Harry struggled
to understand why he was so perturbed. Harry mused that most of Blaise's distraughtness would
arrive in the form of having to cooperate with other Slytherins. Blaise, more than other people,
obsessed over having control of his surroundings and being forced to partner with Draco or Theodore
Nott of all people would no doubt unsettle him. Still, Harry knew that Blaise was quick on his feet
and quicker with his tongue and didn't doubt his ability to make new alliances within
Slytherin.

A rush of students flocked into the Great Hall, chattering excitedly. Harry watched them pass,
noting that none of the Hufflepuffs seemed particularly upset or interested that Justin was gone.
The explanation Snape gave them must have been sufficient enough to disregard any other questions
as to why Justin had to leave school a month early. It was good enough for Harry.

“What's all the commotion for?” Harry asked.

“I guess you weren't really around for the announcement last night,” Blaise
said.”They're showing the final rankings for the Master List today.”

Harry turned around in his seat, noticing that the Master List was still wrapped up at the top
near the rafters. There was a collection of students, mostly older years, settled underneath,
waiting to see if their name was one of the top twenty so they could compete for the Hogwarts
Trophy.

“It's 8 to 1 that you place in the top twenty by the way,” Blaise commented, finally
breaking out of his rut.

“Those don't seem like long odds.”

“I think people learned their lesson from earlier in the year. You think Snape will put you on
there?”

“I wouldn't put it past him.” Harry glanced towards the Head table, noticing the headmaster
conversing with an irate looking professor Lupin.

They didn't have to wait long. A quarter before eight, the banner unfurled in a theatrical
manner, magically unfolding like a scroll as the gold letters stood out against the black
background. Harry only need to scan down a few lines to find his place.

*20th - Harry Potter, Third Year*

This time, there weren't gasps of astonishment or a brief pause of disbelief. There were a
few glances his way, but it seemed like more people were expecting it at this point. Blaise was
excitedly picking up bets for Harry's placement and already making odds for the eventual
winner, but Harry just turned to look at the head table.

Oddly enough, Snape wasn't even looking towards the Master List banner. He was still in a
fitful argument with professor Lupin and didn't even bother paying attention to the ceremony
before him. In the distance, Harry heard other students cheer for their friends and housemates that
had achieved a top twenty placement for qualification in the competition for the Hogwarts Trophy.
While he recognized a few names and discovered that Marcus Flint and Emily Kitchen were the other
Slytherins in the top twenty, he didn't recognize the large majority of the others.

“So what are you going to do?” Blaise asked after the clamour died down.

Tracey and Blaise were looking at him expectantly, but Harry had already decided on what to
do.

“I think I have just the thing...”

* * * * *

There was a week to prepare and most of the other nineteen students in the top twenty of the
Master List could be found in the library researching spells or in Trow's classroom studying
old tape or using the Room of Requirement during empty periods. Yet, no one could find Harry
Potter. There were rumors of him being seen holed up in his dormitory or in the middle of the
Forbidden Forest, training with the centaurs. Others said that he was practicing *within* the
Great Lake. The die hard conspiracists mused that he was within the headmaster's quarters,
receiving training from Snape himself.

Yet, Harry Potter was still seen in classes, participating and making grades that ranged from
Outstanding to simply Acceptable. If there was something to say, it was that Harry Potter was more
reserved than normal and could rarely be seen without the company of his two best friends, Tracey
Davis and Blaise Zabini. The trio were inseparable, an indistinguishable blob that proved to be
more cohesive as the year went on. But if you looked closely, you could see fine differences. Harry
was more confident, walking with an air of invulnerability that was obvious to everyone around him.
Tracey was smaller, less noticeable and prone to long bouts of silence. Only Blaise was the same,
quick with tongue but cold in the eyes.

On the night of the battle for the Hogwarts Trophy, the whole school was invited into attendance
and, this time, there were no stray students wandering about in the hallways. Said hallways were
empty, a cavern of empty spirits and ghosts. Only Filch remained, patrolling the corridors in a
manner that was lackadaisical for him. The entirety of the school had already filed within the Room
of Requirements while the remaining twenty students resided in an adjacent classroom. The door
would open one at a time for them and they would enter the imagined scenario separately.

In the holding room, the youngest student of that batch sat in the corner of the room away from
everyone else. There were a few accusatory glances but most of them just detached a wandering gaze
towards the boy in the corner with a sense of curiousness.

“What is he doing here?” They would whisper to each other.

Harry Potter ignored all of it, calmly sitting in the corner with his knee bouncing ever so
slightly while he balanced his wand in the center of his palm so that the weight was evenly
distributed on both sides. He neither looked up nor engaged in any conversation with the older
students around them. Their only minder was Moody, staring intensely at everyone at once with his
magical eye. Only when he heard a set of footsteps stop near him did Harry lift his head to see who
had finally approached him.

“Hullo,” the boy said.

Said boy was tall with wild, dirty blond hair. He had an easy smile about him that made him
naturally appealing. While he wasn't muscular, he was fit enough so that his body nicely filled
out the bland, gray robes that settled on his shoulders. On his breast was the black and yellow
badge that marked him as a Hufflepuff.

“Hi,” Harry responded, rising to stand.

“Oh no, don't,” the Hufflepuff fussed, making a point to sit next to him. “I've been
pacing too much as is. I really need to take a seat before we start.”

Harry nodded, resuming his sitting position.

“I'm Cedric Diggory.”

Cedric Diggory stuck out his hand, the same easy smile on his lips while his eyes danced with
merriment. It was a different expression than the rest of their peers around them. Most of sat or
stood or paced silently with intense gazes. A few others were trying to crack jokes. Only Diggory
seemed at ease.

“Harry Potter,” Harry responded in kind.

“I don't think you need any introduction,” Cedric replied cheekily. “I've heard a
*lot* of things about you, Harry.”

“Oh yeah? What have you heard?”

“Well, you have a lot of names to start out with. Some of my compatriots in Hufflepuff have a
few select names for you, but they're rather uncouth.” Cedric smiled, trying to impart the joke
with Harry.

“I'm sure they have more than a few,” Harry dryly added.

Cedric laughed, a quiet chuckle that made his grey eyes twinkle mischievously in the low
light.

“Of course you know the one that people call you the most. *The Boy-Who-Lived!*”

“I do know that one.”

“There's a fair few that call you *The Heir of Slytherin*, but I think they're a
bit bonkers myself.”

This time, it was Harry who snorted. “I think they're wrong on that one.”

“Rumors do have a way of spreading quickly without a thought to them,” Cedric conceded. “Yet, I
have heard of one name that seems to have a little bit of truth in it. They only speak of it in
hush tones and I don't think the Third Year Hufflepuffs seem too fond of it, especially the
Finch-Fletchley bloke. Still, everyone's heard of the story.”

“Which story?” Harry raised an eyebrow.

“*The Bringer of Lightning*.”

Cedric said it in a hushed tone, as if he were uttering an urban legend. Instead of looking
serious, his grin grew wider as if he couldn't believe he had used the phrase himself. Feigning
innocence, Harry shrugged, not knowing what the Hufflepuff really wanted. Of course, Diggory might
have just wanted to talk, but Harry kept up his guard nonetheless.

“That one might be true,” Harry answered evasively.

“Oh come off it!” Cedric clapped his hands, attracting a few curious glances their way. “You
have to tell me! Just answer true or false for me. You don't have to say anything else. Just
give me a yes or no.”

Harry shrugged as if to say why not. Diggory seemed harmless and Harry could see why he usually
saw this boy in the center of a gaggle of Hufflepuffs. Diggory was naturally charismatic in a way
that would make Malfoy jealous.

“Alright. True.”

“True to what?” Cedric quickly asked.

“Just true.” Harry smiled a little bit this time.

“I'll assume that's true that they call you *The Bringer of Lightning*.” Cedric
stroked his chin thoughtfully, trying to think of more questions.

“Is it true that you called lightning down from the clouds and smote everyone in the
forest?”

“False.”

“Then how'd you do it?”

“That's not a true or false question,” Harry pointed out.

“Bollocks, I thought I had you.” Cedric snapped his fingers in annoyance. “But you did use a
spell that hit multiple targets. I watched the tape of it myself. It wasn't a spell I've
ever seen or read about.”

“True.”

Harry was surprised that Diggory would go out and take the time to watch the tape. Then again,
all of the students had probably watched tape on each other. Harry had been up to something else
during the week that had elapsed between the reveal and this match.

“Interesting,” Cedric murmured. “Do you have a Time Turner?”

“False.”

“Had to ask. People thought you were taking double classes with how you were beating them. Is it
true you partnered with Granger to plan that little turn in the forest?”

“False,” Harry lied, not wanting to give too much fodder to those who would use Granger's
alliance with him as a reason to pick on her.

“Really?! I thought I really had that one.” Cedric bought it. “Is it true that you can read
minds?”

“True.”

“Legilimency. *Very* advanced and not in the curriculum at all. Where'd you get
instruction for that one? Snape?”

“False.”

“*Not* from Snape?” Cedric looked absolutely befuddled that Harry could figure out
Legilimency on his own. “You'll definitely have to teach me that one. I gather that's a
rather useful skill since no one else here is trained in it.”

“I think I'll keep that one close to the chest,” Harry responded, surprised that Cedric
deduced that ability rather quickly.

Diggory looked at him appraisingly, his grey eyes carefully regarding him. “Harry Potter, *The
Bringer of Lightning*, *The Boy Who Lived*, and mind reader. No wonder you frighten all the
Third Years in Hufflepuff. They're constantly sitting around the Common Room scheming on ways
to defeat you.”

“And why are you telling me this?”

Cedric shrugged. “They're just Third Years. They take everything seriously. Stick a couple
years around this place and you'll realize that it's not all life and death all the
time.”

Diggory leaned back against the wall, lifting arms and crossing his hands behind his head. He
surveyed the other eighteen students with a casual pan of the room, almost looking bored. There was
a substantial size difference between him and Harry. Whereas Harry was still thin and bony, Cedric
was tall and wide shouldered, filling out his clothes well. Normally, Harry could compensate for
this physical discrepancy with his dueling ability, but he had no doubt that Diggory was as skilled
and probably better. There was also something to be said with the physical dexterity needed to
dodge and avoid spells.

“Are you scared?” Cedric asked.

“No.”

“Good lad.” Cedric nodded. “The worst thing you could do here is freeze up.”

There was a moment's pause where Harry turned his head slightly sideways to look at
Cedric's amused expression. This Hufflepuff was a lot easier to trust than the one Harry had
dealt with the previous week. Taking a chance, Harry asked him to lean closer. Curious, Cedric did
as he was asked and leaned his head down.

“Could you do something for me when we go in there?” Harry whispered.

Cedric shrugged indifferently. “Sure.”

Leaning closer, Harry whispered something into his ear so that no one else could hear. They
pulled away at the same time with different countenances. Harry was satisfied that he could trust
Cedric, while the Hufflepuff had a face of confusion.

“Why would you want to do that?” Cedric bewilderedly wondered.

“Can you just do it for me?” Harry repeated.

Cedric shook his head and chuckled. “You're a strange one, Harry Potter. But yeah, I can do
that for you.”

“Thanks,” Harry gratefully answered.

Just as soon as the words exited Harry's mouth, headmaster Snape walked into the room. The
headmaster had no indication that he had received Harry's message that night in his office as
he walked languidly about, the gait of a predator herding its prey. Snape started to explain to
them the rules of the his match to win the Hogwarts Trophy, but Harry had already tuned him
out.

Instead, he focused within, settling deeply into his mind as he practiced his Occlumency. He had
a feeling that he had to be a lot better at it next year.

* * * * *

Harry was last in line as preference of order was given to those higher on the list. Headmaster
Snape was already gone, presumably watching the match from the seats that were invisible to the
participants. At the front, Moody would open the door for the next participant and then close it
behind them. Harry assumed that they would each end up at a specific location whenever the door
opened for them.

Seventh in line, Cedric turned around and made eye contact with Harry. That impish grin ghosted
onto his face for a second as he winked at him before vanishing through the door. Harry could only
hope that the Hufflepuff would follow through with his request though he had no doubts that others
could fill it as well.

One by one, the top twenty students of Hogwarts Battle School entered the Room of Requirement,
facing the scenario within. Harry could only watch as they entered that unique room, wondering what
sort of nightmare Snape had envisioned in his mind this time. Harry, though, was relaxed, not even
bothering to unsheath his wand like everyone else. At last, it was his time to enter the room.

Moody clasped him tightly by the shoulder, awaiting some sort of requisite time until he allowed
Harry to enter.

“Are you ready, boy?” Moody gruffly asked.

“I am.”

Moody yanked the door open and shoved Harry inside. He stumbled, his feet tripping on some sort
of invisible barrier as he entered the room.

It was dark and for a moment, Harry thought they were back within that subterranean scenario
that was deployed when the Slytherins fought the Gryffindors. Then, he looked up and saw the stars.
They were brilliantly arranged against the sky, constellations of all sorts with the dusty ring of
the moon and the far off haze of distant galaxies visible in the cloudless landscape.

Below the constellations, Harry stood on a plain, flat ground, devoid of any of the usual
obstacles generally constructed within the Room of Requirement. Turning to each side, Harry found
that the plains stretched on to the East, West, and South. To the North was a solitary hill. Harry
purposefully walked towards it, his wand calmly at his side and a content but determined expression
on his face.

As he crested the hill, he could hear fighting in the distance but took no precaution to hide
himself nor did he make any attempt to gravitate towards the sound of fighting. In truth, there
were no strategic moves being made at all. At the top of the hill, Harry paused, noticing the odd
layout as the hill flattened.

There were no inscriptions, but there was definitely an uncanny liking to a cemetery. Stone
wedges were arranged haphazardly, organized in a random grid that was off putting. As Harry walked
around, he realized that Snape would want the final duel here. So Harry looked to the stars,
wondering where exactly Snape and the rest of Hogwarts were watching. Could they see him gazing
upwards to the heavens? His wand twirling in his hand, Harry looked down at it, convincing himself
that this was the right thing to do.

“Bloody hell, you really are going to do it.”

Harry took his time turning around, recognizing the voice instantly. Cedric Diggory stood behind
him, already breathing heavily with his sleeve torn on one arm. His wand was down, not raised in
proper fashion for a duel.

“Good to see you made it this far,” Harry joked.

“Ran into Penelope Clearwater. Those Ravenclaws *can* be a nuisance,” Cedric said.

“Indeed.”

It was an odd conversation to have in the middle of the match that would determine the winner of
the Hogwarts Trophy. Harry heard more spells snapping off in the distance, but this time it was
closer. Knowing he didn't have a lot of time left, Harry raised his wand slightly. Cedric
mirrored his motion, but there wasn't a lot of intent behind casting a spell.

“Are you sure about this?” Cedric asked once more.

Harry nodded. “I'm sure.”

Cedric looked like he wanted to say something to protest, but he quickly shut his mouth.
Instead, he said, “Next year, I hope we meet again so I can see if you really are *The Bringer of
Lightning*.”

A tiny smile crept onto Harry's lips. “I imagine this won't be the last time we see each
other.”

Cedric nodded, accepting his answer.

Looking towards the skies once more, Harry made a point to look around, knowing that the eyes of
the whole school would be upon him. Then, in one smooth motion, Harry threw his wand towards
Cedric, watching it tumble end over end towards the older Hufflepuff. Cedric caught it deftly,
balancing it in his hand as if he didn't quite believe this was actually happening.

*Two can play this game, Snape*.

Pocketing the wand, Cedric smiled at him. “Next time, Harry.”

“Next time.”

“*Stupefy!”*

* * * * * *

Blaise was the most upset by Harry's voluntary forfeit. He claimed that Harry should have at
least informed him so he could fix the bets. Still, he couldn't complain too much. He ended up
making a profit since an unusual amount of people had placed cheeky bets on Harry winning.

It was certainly a shock amongst the rest of the students though. Never before had a student
willingly refused to participate in a match as public as the Hogwarts Trophy. Of course, there were
rumors of various sorts ranging from a purposeful racket between Harry and Blaise to Harry being a
farce and not actually able to perform against better wizards than he. Harry purposefully
didn't answer any questions, letting the rumors settle and fester until it was so distorted
that it became a legend of its own.

If Snape was angry about Harry's unwillingness to fight, he didn't show it. There was no
punishment for refusing to fight after all. The headmaster made no attempt to contact Harry either.
Still, Harry counted it as a win for himself as Snape had undoubtedly wanted to test Harry's
abilities against older students. By refusing to fight, Harry had at least sent Snape a message
that would not be forgotten soon.

Indeed, the rest of the year came to a close without major incident. Harry plummeted down the
Master List, but that was fine by him. In the end, Granger finished above him and he saw no shame
in that though the rest of the Slytherins were unhappy with the Gryffindor sweep in the House cup
and her highest placement in their year. However, he knew the true measure of his talents. All too
soon, they were packing their dormitories, preparing to leave for the summer. Harry had still not
spoken to Granger since the night at the cave and she had made no inclinations to contact him
either.

As they proceeded down the cobble road towards the Hogwarts Express, Harry chanced one more look
back, dreading the return to Number Four Privet Drive. The peak towers of Hogwarts stood out
against the azure sky, standing resplendent on a beautiful day. Outside the Entrance Hall door, a
solitary figure watched the students descend the winding path. Harry couldn't see the
particular details from a distance, but he knew it was Snape. The headmaster had been his usual
taciturn self during his end of year speech as well as his general activities, but every time they
made eye contact, Harry felt a twinge of anger that certainly didn't belong to himself.

“Come on, Harry,” Tracey said, stopping against the flow of the crowd with him.

“Right there with you,” Harry said as he grabbed the handle of his trunk and continued down the
path.

They filed within the Hogwarts Express and Blaise quickly staked out a compartment, paying a
group of First Years a few Galleons for their troubles. He quickly occupied one of the benches,
kicking up his feet. Harry took a seat next to Tracey, settling down in the space closest to the
window.

As the train churned to life, Harry's stomach turned as he knew each minute would bring him
closer to Number Four. Yet, his face was blank as he kept his thoughts to himself. The compartment
was uncannily quiet and even Blaise was busy tabulating the year's results in his ledger.
Tracey, too, looked out the window with an unhappy expression.

“Are you okay?” Harry quietly asked her.

“Of course,” Tracey said, but Harry didn't miss the way she unconsciously rubbed her
neck.

Leaning closer, Harry asked again. “Really, Tracey, are you okay?”

She looked at him and now that she was looking at him and not down at the ground, he could see
the tired lines along her face. Tracey usually looked well made, her hair perfectly in place while
the makeup on her face complimented her features well. Today, she had still put in the effort to
look pleasant, but there were slight cracks like the bags under her eyes or blemishes across her
face that were usually unseen.

“If you hadn't found me, Harry, I'd be dead.”

“But we did find you.”

“But what if you didn't. There wasn't anything special about it. After a while, I just
couldn't breathe and the whole turned dark and then I came to and you were there. Do you know
what that feels like?”

“No,” Harry answered honestly.

“It feels...terrifying.”

Tracey stopped, the train bumping along the tracks as she swayed from a slight jolt. She was
fighting back tears as Harry realized that this was probably the first time she got to talk about
that night. Whether it was Harry or Blaise's reluctance to broach the issue or her own
reclusiveness, they had yet to converse about her near death experience.

“It was my fault,” Harry said.

Tracey rolled her eyes, wiping away the tears that had collected there. “You don't even mean
that and you know it. You know just as well as I do that there was nothing you could do to stop
Justin.”

Harry shrugged. “I know, but it felt like the right thing to say.”

She laughed through her tears. “At least you're learning.”

As she dabbed at her tears with the back of her handf, Harry looked down at his knees, not
meeting her eyes as he spoke.

“You're one of my only friends, Tracey. I wouldn't have stopped until I found you.”

Tracey smiled and she still looked beautiful even as a tear rolled down her cheek. “And here I
thought you weren't capable of being emotional.”

“This is hardly emotional.”

“Right, Harry.”

She leaned back, looking away from the window as her hand went to her neck again, rubbing it
softly.

“You can lean on me if you're feeling tired. I know it's hard to sleep on these
benches,” Harry offered.

Tracey paused, her face carefully confused. As she processed the request, she smiled in a sad
sort of way. She scooted closer to him and leaned her head against his shoulder. His arm
automatically went around her as she snuggled against his side. The close contact was uncomfortable
for Harry, but he swallowed that feeling down, knowing she needed the comfort more than he felt
uncomfortable by it.

After a few minutes, she had fallen asleep, her head lolling every now and then from the sway of
the train. Blaise, so absorbed in his numbers, looked up once and saw Tracey's head on his
shoulder. His mouth automatically quirked into a smirk and it opened as he gleefully saw an
opportunity. Harry immediately silenced him with a death glare, threatening him with just one look.
Blaise still had a wide grin on his face as he stared at the both of them but at least he shut his
mouth. The dark Slytherin made a camera motion with his hands as he stared at them and Harry just
rolled his eyes at his constant ribbing.

Eventually, a cramp formed in his arm and Harry gently nudged Tracey awake. Standing from the
seat, Harry laid her head down and produced a pillow made out of his jacket for her to sleep on.
Harry surmised that she must have not been sleeping well judging by her lack of responsiveness.
Threatening Blaise to stay quiet via a series of hand gestures, Harry exited the compartment to
stretch his legs.

Walking towards the rear of the train, Harry looked into the compartments every now and then,
seeing the score of different students. Some compartments were fuller than others and all were in
various states. Some students were engaged in games like Exploding Snap and others were eating
various food from the cart. There was a wide variety of reactions to returning home, but Harry
didn't see anyone who actually *feared* going home.

Near the back of the train, Harry spotted a compartment that only had one resident. He pursed
his lips when he saw who it was and opened the door without knocking. The lone denizen of the
compartment looked up from her project as he entered.

“Hello,” Luna Lovegood said in her ethereal voice.

“Hi Luna. Why are you sitting by yourself?”

“No one wanted to sit with me,” she said matter of factly.

Biting down the anger, Harry proposed, “Why don't you come sit with us then? It's just
Blaise and Tracey in there.”

“No, thank you,” she politely declined. “Then I wouldn't have room for my little
project.”

She indeed had a table set up in the middle of the compartment and a lonely device in the middle
of it.

“What exactly is it?” Harry asked as he took a seat across from her, staring at the strange
object on the table.

“Grab it.”

Tentatively, he reached out to grab the cylindrical tube. It was made out of a smooth metal and
was cool to the touch.


“Uh, what do I do with it?”

“Look through it, silly,” she said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Harry held it up to his eye and realized that there was indeed a seeing glass. Raising it to his
eye, he pointed at the wall and jerked back when he realized that he could see a glow of blue
around Luna. Leaning forward and pressing his eye against the circular glass again, Harry could
actually see *through* the wall and spot four other glowing blue hues that resembled human
bodies.

“What is this?!”

“It's a magical sensor. It can see wizards and witches through walls. I created it by
Transfiguring the glass to sense magical detection and then used a Charm so that it could be used
through walls. I haven't perfected it and there are certain limitations, mostly due to distance
that I haven't quite figured out, but I feel it would be useful,” Luna explained in what was
her most normal voice to date.

“That's amazing, Luna,” Harry honestly said.

“It's really nothing. I heard of a student in France that created a a long range delivery
option that could send spells over long distances.”

“Still,” Harry commented as he placed the tube down on the table, “It's quite a feat.”

“It's not as good as creating a spell, but we're all special in our own different
ways.”

Again, her uncanny ability to decipher situations surprised Harry.

“You're pretty good at this sort of stuff. I remember the snow castle you made a few months
ago.”

“We all have our talents. Some of us are just more gifted than others.”

“That doesn't give people an excuse to treat you the way they do.”

“They just don't understand,” Luna rebutted. “But you don't need to worry about me,
Harry. I imagine you have a lot more things to worry about other than a little Ravenclaw that
creates a magical detector so that it's easier to hide from Marietta.”

“You don't need to hide from her.” Harry had a bone to pick with that aggraivating
Ravenclaw.

“We all fight our own battles in our own ways. You can't fight everyone's, Harry.”

“Maybe.”

She chuckled as if that was quite amusing for her. Then she grabbed the tube and turned to look
outside the compartment.

“What do you see?” Harry asked.

“I do believe that Hermione Granger is standing on the railing outside of the train,” Luna
answered.

“You can see that?!”

“No. I saw her walk by earlier.”

Harry didn't think he would ever understand Luna, but he would be damned if people kept
picking on her. He made a mental note to make that one of his several projects next year. Bidding
Luna a good summer, Harry exited her compartment and indeed saw a mass of bushy hair through the
window in the door that led to the emergency exit of the train. Granger was standing outside,
leaning against the railing as her hair flapped in the wind.

Opening the door as to not frighten her, Harry made his presence known with a knock. Granger
turned around, looking at him in surprise before shifting to the side to make room for him. Taking
that as an invitation, Harry joined her on the railing as they watched the train speed across a
bridge. Below them was a body of water that hurtled by so fast that it was just a blue blur.

“Amazing that we're wizards, but we still have to take a train to get to and from school,”
Granger remarked.

“Can't have us Apparating at the age of eleven and splinching ourselves. Can you imagine
it?”

“I'd imagine we could manage it.”

Her confidence certainly hadn't faded over time. A silence fell over them as the wind
whipped around the train, engulfing them in a small tornado that made Harry squint his eyes as the
Scottish hills rolled by. His own unruly hair was wildly thrashing about, caught in the maelstrom
between them.

“How have you been?” Granger rather inanely asked.

“I could be better. This is always my least favorite time of the year.”

“For a number of reasons, I'm sure.”

She left him an opening to continue, but he didn't take it. As the train curved around a
bend, Harry gripped the railing tightly, holding his tenuous position. Granger only lightly held
the post for a second, using her momentum to pull against the vector.

“Are you okay?” Harry suddenly asked, realizing that he had been asking that question a lot
lately.

“No,” Granger casually answered. “I don't think I'm okay at all.”

In moments like this, Harry wished he was better with words or had the natural wit of Blaise to
defuse the tension. What else was he supposed to say besides the customary apology? Like Tracey,
Harry had avoided talking about the subject of her parents despite the fact that he had innate
knowledge on the circumstances surrounding their death. For Granger to witness such a thing would
be awful to anyone but to have it happen to both parents without any other siblings would change
the course of her life forever.

“Who are you going to be staying with?” Harry opted to stay with facts instead of trying to
console her. He felt that it would comfort her.

“My aunt. It's not a big family. Both of my parents only had one sibling and the other
one's in Australia, so that's not exactly practical. I never had godparents, so according
to the will, my aunt was designated to be my primary caretaker. Mind you, she doesn't know
about magic, so she thinks she's just picking me up from boarding school at King's Cross.
McGonagall said she would visit as soon as I settled in to tell them about it.”

It was insult to injury, shipping Granger off to live with Muggles who knew nothing about magic.
It was naturally easy for Muggle parents to accept their own child. After all, the familial bonds
easily stretched to accommodate far worse circumstances than a magical child. Harry wondered how a
close relative would take the news. He hoped they wouldn't be anything like the Dursleys.

“Can't be worse than my relatives,” Harry said, echoing his own thoughts.

“No, I guess they wouldn't,” she said without looking at him.

It was a helpless feeling, being unable to help or console her. Harry suspected that she was
dreading this leave of Hogwarts as much as he was. At Hogwarts, there were always constant
distractions, though some of them were far more dangerous than others. There were always studies or
matches or conspiring students or even run of the mill gossip. This train ride was torturously long
and allowed for that weight to finally come crashing down.

“He didn't do it you know,” Harry suddenly said. “At least, not what you think he did.”

“Who?” She finally perked up.

“Vernon. He's still evil and he did - he did so many things, but not *that*. Not what
you were trying to imply,” Harry quickly spilled the words.

She swayed, the train buckling as it rode over a hill. Harry looked up to meet her brown eyes
and found himself being pulled it to that chocolate pool. She wasn't conventionally pretty. Her
face was round, the baby fat retained in her cheeks, and her hair did nothing to help her. She
almost never wore makeup, thus not drawing any special attention to her face. But her eyes were a
medley of emotions, a whirlpool that he could easily fall into and when she smiled, the sun became
a little brighter and the wind whipped around singing a merry tune, but it was only for a moment.
Then, her mask would slip on again and the world returned to normal order.

“Thank you,” she finally said. “I know that must have been hard for you.”

Strangely enough, it wasn't that hard for Harry.

“Just trying to find a bright side to all this,” he said.

“Maybe there is no bright side,” Granger offered. “Maybe this is all there is to it.”

Harry couldn't help but let out a small chuckle and he was rewarded with a deathly glare
from Granger. Still, he smiled at her, an incredulous feeling of happiness washing over him. To
hear Granger declare such morbid terms was nothing more than a summary of their whole year. Despite
all the seriousness, they were still taking the same train away from Hogwarts, rolling away from
the countryside.

“It's not funny,” Granger insisted. “You could have killed Finch-Fletchley.”

Harry quickly sobered up, not realizing she would quickly pivot to this discussion.

“Yet I didn't.”

“It wasn't that you did or didn't kill him. It was everything before. What was that,
Harry?” Granger demanded, venting off a little steam.

Harry shrugged, leaning back against the railing and looking at the sun sitting just above the
horizon.

“I did what needed to be done.”

“Maybe you did. Maybe he deserved it. Maybe the right thing to do would have been to kill him so
he doesn't ever do something like that to Tracey or you or anyone else again. But you did it so
*easily*, Harry. You didn't even struggle with it. It can't be *that* easy.”

The scary part was that it was that easy for him. He didn't have second thoughts about it in
the moment and he hadn't even really thought about it until now. It felt *good* to hold
Justin down, feeling his life drain from him, but he didn't relay to her.

“I don't think you understood the extent of what he did.”

“Oh, I understood it perfectly. I can even understand how you were feeling in the moment. What I
*don't* understand is how intense you were about it. The look in your eyes, Harry...”

She was stopping short of direct accusations, but her tone rankled Harry. He crossed his arms,
his hair billowing in the same direction as hers as the train buckled over a bumpy path. Granger
was still leaning forward against the railing so they were facing opposite directions, one looking
out towards the horizon while the other looked inwards towards the train.

“Have you ever thought about doing something bad? Not really evil. Nothing sadistic. Haven't
you ever felt that urge to just do something about it? Then, you're thinking to yourself that
this isn't what I should do. I shouldn't even think about killing him, but it pops up in
your head again. You try not to think about it, but you can see him dying in your mind and you
imagine that they do deserve it. You're the hero and they're the villain. *You* have
the justification. *You* have a legitimate reason for doing this. Then, once again, you remind
yourself that this is a bad idea. But you're not thinking logically and you just let the
darkness take over. Just for one second so you don't have to spend so much time holding it at
bay. In that moment, you feel free! You feel right! You feel like you don't have to hide so
much! It's a monster in your chest that just breaks free of its chains and for one fleeting
moment you can let it roar and hear the echo bouncing off every mountain top! Then, you bring it
back and close the lid tight on top...and you do what's right. Haven't you ever felt that
way?”

She didn't speak for a moment, letting the sound carry away his proclamations and
confessions. Her eyes were lost in the distance, trying to judge something that wasn't there.
Every now and then, Harry would see a student walking through the train but no one ever ventured
towards the caboose.

“Yes.”

Harry let the silence marinate over them, taking comfort that he wasn't insane. Other people
did feel that way. Yet, while he was basking in the dying sunlight, Granger seemed to be even more
disturbed.

“I don't want to go home, Harry.”

“Me neither, Hermione.”

The mask finally slipped as she let a solitary tear fall down her cheek. Months and months of
ignoring the problem and trying to stave off the emptiness was finally catching up to her and while
the wind did its best to try and carry it all the way, it didn't catch all of her tears. She
leaned over the raining, a choked sob escaping her.

Harry reached out his hand but paused it in midair. He wanted to do something to comfort her,
but he felt as if it the lightest touch would break her apart. She was so small and fragile in this
moment, an incredible contrast from the rigid logicality that usually defined her. He almost felt
as if he were intruding, witnessing such a rarity that he looked away and retracted his hand.

“What a sad sack I am,” she said.

“You have good reason.”

Her sniffles died down until the tears were dry on her face and she settled into that blank
veneer. If she was surprised at how easy it was for him to torture Justin, he was just as surprised
to find her so quickly back to her version of normalcy.

“Thank you for everything you've taught me,” Harry said.

She snorted, showing another unusual side of her. “Only you would think I've taught you
something.”

“You have. If it weren't for you, I'd be pants at Occlumency and Legilimency,” Harry
insisted.

“You would have learned it eventually.” Hermione waved away his concerns as she dabbed away a
loose tear. “I liked what you did by the way.”

“For what?”

“The Hogwarts Trophy. Everyone called you a coward, but I known better than to think of you as a
coward. It was for Snape, wasn't it?”

“Right as always.”

“And has he said anything?”

“Not a word.”

“That's almost scarier than him actually *doing* something.”

Harry turned around so he was leaning his forearms on the railing. “I think it's time to
start challenging him. I don't like playing his games anymore.”

“If you need help, I'm right there with you.”

Hermione was serious, that determined intensity returning to her previously watershed eyes. This
was the Hermione that he would remember, holding such a strident belief that if Harry looked deeply
into her eyes, he saw why she was sometimes dubbed the smartest witch of their generation. She
would tear down the world to prove a point.

The sun disappeared over the horizon, such was the extent they had stayed out on that back ledge
of the train. Most of it was dominated by silence and punctuated by grazing moments of important
conversations. There were still so many things left unsaid, but Harry undeniably felt a connection
towards this Gryffindor.

“You have a good summer, Harry. I think we're getting close,” she said as the bright lights
of the city glowed in the near distance.

“Take care...Hermione.”

She smirked at him one last time and disappeared into the train.

They reached King's Crossing and bid their goodbyes. Blaise shook Harry's hand formally
in mock politeness in front of his mother and told him that he would write. Harry had read
Blaise's letters. It often contained nothing more than detailed notes of the many people he
procured money from. Tracey unexpectedly leaned in and kissed him on the cheek in front of her dad.
While Harry was embarrassed and,not for the first time wished that Blaise was mute, he couldn't
deny that he enjoyed it. She promised to write him as well and the contents of her letters would no
doubt be more than just endless self promotion.

Harry watched Tracey disappear through the barrier and held his breath, knowing it was time to
face the music. As he emerged on the other side, Harry's hopes died as he saw a large mass of a
human being waiting at Platform 9 ¾ for him. Slowly making his way over, his trunk in tow, Harry
braced himself for another long summer.

He was then surprised to see a whirling dervish of bushy hair appear in front of him.

“Hello, I'm Hermione,” she extended her hand to a befuddled Vernon.

“Er, hello?” Vernon ended up asking.

“I go to school *with* Harry,” she emphasized, “but my parents are dentists. They're
very rich and have a lot of friends in the community.”

“That's very nice girl.” Vernon tried to brush her aside, his mustache twitching in
annoyance.

“A *lot* of constables.”

His beefy hand froze in mid air as his beady eyes focused on Hermione's brown pools. Vernon
licked his lips uncertainty, not knowing what kind of game Hermione was playing at while Harry
stifled a laugh.

“Number Four Privet Drive, right Harry?” She turned around to address him, her face twisted in
mock quizzicality.

“True,” Harry answered.

“That's not too far. Perhaps a visit is in order?”

“Perhaps,” Vernon said slowly, struggling to deal with her.

Harry would have laughed if it wasn't for the fact that she had invoked her dead
parent's name to defend her. Whatever the case may be, Hermione was undoubtedly on his
side.

“Well then. Have a good summer, Harry!” Hermione exclaimed in false chirpiness.

As she left Vernon befuddled and confused on the platform of King's Cross, Harry reasoned
that it might not be such a long summer after all.

* * * * *

“I guess things didn't really go as planned.”

“Plans are what they are. It's just a projection of things to happen.”

“And what happens when your plan starts fighting back?”

“He is not fighting. He is testing, trying to see what he can get away with. He has no idea the
true extent of what is transpiring.”

“I must confess that I do not think it is working.”

“He has grown stronger, has he not? Learned Occlumency and Legilimency far ahead of schedule.
Created a spell from sheer anger. Showed the fortitude to act outside of the boundaries of limiting
morality. Accepted every strategical challenge and surpassed expectations.”

“He almost killed that boy. He *enjoyed* torturing him.”

“He did not enjoy it.”

“How would you know? You're not in his head anymore.”

“He did what he needed to be done.”

“He took it too far.”

“Please spare me your pathetic musings on the extent of action.”

“You are not listening. This path has been travelled before.”

“Do you not think -”

“*YOU ARE NOT LISTENING!”*

“Then enlighten me.”

“Tell me if you've heard this story before. There was once a practical orphan who lived in
an abusive and damaged environment. He grew up hard and cold, distrustful of everyone around him.
Upon entrance into Hogwarts, he was hailed as one of the most promising wizards of his generation,
potential falling off him in waves. He accomplished tasks far ahead of schedule, easily bypassing
most in his year. He was very charismatic, gaining a loyal band of followers that would do anything
for him. Tell me, have you heard this story before?”

“What is your point?”

“My *point* is that you're losing him.”

“I am not even close to -”

“He is growing up! Surely you can't be as short sighted as me. *He* is the beast trying
to break from the chains and who do you think he is going to come after when he realizes who put
him in the chains in the first place?”

“Then I will deal with that problem when it arises. It is folly to worry about what happens if
we fail. If we fail, then that's it. The work of more than a decade will fall apart if this
does not succeed, so I don't plan on planning for failure. This path only goes one way.”

“And if this path creates the monster we are striving to defeat, then what have we done?”

“You know the safeguards as well as I do. Why are you protesting this?”

“I - I - I fear the future.”

“You shouldn't.”

“It is much easier to stay calm when I can see the paths before me, but stepping into the
unknown carries the danger of falling into it.”

“You worry too much about things that might not happen.”

“And you don't worry enough about things that could happen.”

“We control what we can and as long as I have the ability to shape what happens, then I will
continue to act in a capacity that is for the best.”

“*For the best.*”

“I don't think you're in a position to mock me about doing what's best.”

“There is more than enough blame to pass around for what we have done. It is a one way path as
you say, but the path is far more treacherous as each day passes.”

“We all knew this would not be easy, especially in his later years.”

“I do believe that time is upon us.”

“We have some time to plan before then. Have you heard from the other schools?”

“I have. They have preliminarily agreed to the changes for the tournament.”

“And you had no trouble convincing Maxime and Karkaroff?”

“They were both hesitant on the idea at first, but I eventually persuaded them to see
otherwise.”

“Excellent. It will be beneficial to have a Trischool Tournament. It will give the boy a wide
array of challenges next year.”

“Agreed in this instance.”

“And Riddle?”

“He has uncharacteristically gone dark.”

“Nothing at all?”

“I know how he is. To fall off the face of the Earth like this is most unusual for him. I admit
that it unnerves me more than I care to say.”

“You are certain of this?”

“The Riddle I know would not disappear like this and yet he has.”

“But the boy is safe at the location?”

“*Safe* isn't the best word I would use for his predicament, but yes, Riddle will not
find him for now.”

“Then we must act quickly. As you say, plans are malleable after all.”

“And what do you project?”

“That the Dark Lord will return and when the time comes, we will see if our plans are of any
worth.”

“And if they are not?”

“Then I will see you in hell.”

* * * * * *

**A/N: And that is Third Year!**

**As I've stated earlier, I will be continuing this story under the same name for Fourth
Year. Obviously I've dropped a couple hints for what will transpire and I truly believe it will
be a great year to write. There will be two interludes, but I must admit that it will take some
time (not too long) until the first chapter of Fourth Year comes out. I will be taking some time to
write a few chapters ahead and also to focus on my original work. Don't worry, this is not
abandoned or on hiatus as I have the whole outline for Fourth Year already written. If you have any
lingering questions about Third Year, please ask in a review or message me directly! I'll do my
best to answer them all.**

**Lastly, thank you so much for all of your reviews. I love reading them and I read each and
everyone of them, so don't feel left out if I don't respond to you directly. Just know that
I take them all to heart and I hope that you've enjoyed this story so far and if you didn't
enjoy it, at least appraised it enough to give it a decent read. Thank you again and let me know
what you thought of this Third Year as a whole!**

**Projected update time: Before August**
 Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7
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25. Interlude: The Dead End
---------------------------



The soft glow of the light obscured the hideous faces within the inn. The pub smelled of piss
and liquor mingled with various aromas of the different herbs burning within their pipes. During
the summer, there were far fewer patrons due to the lack of activity at the school on top of the
hill. The bartender was a fat, ugly man who loved stories. During this particular summer night, he
had the attention of a handful of patrons.

This particular inn was tucked into a back alley of the famous village of Hogsmeade. Sandwiched
in between an apothecary and an antique shoe store, it was easy to miss, barely a hole in the wall.
While it didn't have nearly as many rambunctious patrons as the infamous Hog's Head, there
was an underlying darkness to the inn. It was appropriately called The Dead End.

As the fat bartender waved his wand from his stool to wash some more mugs, the door burst open
and in stepped one of his regulars. He claimed to be a retired Hit Wizard, but the only thing this
wizard was probably hitting was the pipe. A notorious but genial drunk, Fabian Fallow was well
known around The Dead End.

“You know the drill, Thomas,” Fabian slurred as he sat down at the bar.

Thomas Tethercorn poured another Firewhiskey in Fabian's glass, pouring the hot liquid
smoothly for his best tipper. To Fabian, the Firewhiskey was water and he sipped on it despite the
smoke billowing from his ears. There were only three or four other patrons, all seated at the bar,
on what constituted as a relatively slow night for Thomas.

“Have you heard about the student at Hogwarts?” Thomas asked a general question to his handful
of customers.

“Who doesn't know about Harry Potter?” Fabian said as he downed the rest of his Firewhiskey.
“Another!”

As Thomas obliged the drunk, a small man named Salt spoke up. “I've heard some stories about
him.”

Salt was notorious for his library of nonsensical stories. He told so many of them at The Dead
End that others were convinced that he made most of them up. Still, he could weave a good tale and
many spent a night listening to some folly that Salt had drawn up.

“Have you heard the one where he summoned lightning from the clouds?” Salt asked as he leaned
forward onto the bar, his bony elbows digging into the wood.

“Codswallop,” snorted Big, the dwarf. “You wizards get more full of yourselves every day. Not
even Merlin could call down lightning!”

“Honest to my second mother.” Salt held a scrawny hand to his chest. “They were doing one of
them battle things and the boy called down lightning from the clouds and shot it through his
*fingertips*.”

“I've heard that one *is* true,” Fabian offered.

“*Not* true,” said the figure at the end of the bar, seated a good distance away from the
others.

Fabian, Salt, Big, and Thomas looked down towards the man with the hood pulled low over his
face. He was sipping on what must have been piss warm beer at this point, staring doggedly ahead.
He hadn't said a word to anyone since he walked into The Dead End and he sure wasn't a
regular.

“It's all a fabrication, meant to build the boy up,” continued the shadowy figure at the end
of the bar.

“I'm up for as good of a conspiracy story as any, but I've seen the boy,” Fabian
rebutted. “That's Merlin incarnate up at that school.”

“Lies,” hissed the shadowy man. “It's nothing more than propaganda, lies by the Ministry to
excuse the school of what they've done over there.”

Fabian, Salt, and Big looked at each other and burst out in laughter. Even Thomas chuckled, his
big belly heaving from the effort. The shadowy man at the end of the bar did not laugh, but he
pulled his cloak tighter around him as he bristled.

“You've got no arguments here, but you're missing the point,” Fabian said. “You
don't just go and kill You-Know-Who without some special magic. I've heard from more than
one people about this story in the forest. It's one thing if Salt says something -”

“Hey!” exclaimed Salt.

“-but it's another thing if they're talking about it all over Hogsmeade. The stories
about the boy are true, mystery man, but why don't you come over here and have a drink with us.
It's a bit dank on that side of this inn.”

“Hey!” snapped Thomas, the bartender.

“Only true.” Fabian shrugged.

The man in the cloak didn't budge from his spot, brooding silently in the corner. Fabian
waited for a moment and looked at Big and Salt. Big just shook his head, reflecting his general
disdain for wizards with one mean look over his hooked nose. Salt just wanted to continue telling
his story.

“So how'd it go then, Salt?” Thomas asked.

Salt licked his lips, rubbing his spindly fingers together in anticipation.

“The story goes that they were competing in a sort of royal rumble of battles. All four houses
were in the forest, battling each other. It was a pitched fight, students falling down everywhere
whilst an inferno raged from all the spells. The air was thick with smoke and the smell of burnt
clothing as those maniacal students charged again and again at each other. The Potter boy was
trapped, pinned from a combination of Ravenclaws and Gryffindors that were both gunning for
him.”

“I thought it was Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws?” asked Fabian.

“Let me finish my story,” Salt irritatedly responded. Shooting Fabian a glare, Salt
continued.

“Anyway, the Potter boy was pinned by some Ravenclaws and -”

“-Hufflepuffs.”

“-*Gryffindors*. They had the Slytherins surrounded in a clearing, point blank like
Flobberworms in a barrel. Then, they heard a rumble coming from the sky. There weren't any
clouds so it definitely wasn't a thunderstorm and it felt like it was coming from the
*ground*. The Potter boy raised his wand and from a cloudless sky, lightning shot towards his
wand. He extended his hand and the lightning channeled through his body and he shot it from his
fingertips! *Zap! Zap!* The Ravenclaws and Gryffindors went down and Potter beat twenty of
them just like that. They call him *The Bringer of Lightning*.”

“This is the most ridiculous I've ever heard,” Big interrupted. “Wizards summoning lightning
from a cloudless sky and shooting it from their fingertips? This is low. Even for you, Salt.”

“Honest to my third mother, it's true!” Salt insisted.

“That's not how the story goes,” Fabian said as he downed another Firewhiskey. Thomas
immediately replenished the drink.

“Oh now *you* know the story!” Big threw his hands in the air in frustration.

“I know the *true* story.”

“Bollocks,” Salt interrupted. “My version is the truth.”

“Thomas, can you get these two wankers more drinks? They're going to need to settle in if
they want to hear what *really* happened,” said Fabian.

Thomas chuckled as he lazily waved his wand and summoned two more drinks for Salt and Big.

“If you want to really know what happened, then pay attention.” Fabian leaned forward, his
bloodshot eyes looking lively for once.

“I know what happened,” Salt insisted.

“Just shut up, Salt, and listen. It's true they were having a battle with all four houses in
the forest. No one has disputed that. But the truth is that it wasn't an open battle like you
described. It was a dangerous game of cat and mouse as Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw had teamed up
against Slytherin for slighting them earlier in the year. Gryffindor remained neutral, but they
were tactically staying out of the way. You see, I know these things from my days as a Hit Wizard
-”

“-of course.” Big rolled his eyes.

“- and as I was saying, it was centered around the Ravenclaws and the Hufflepuffs hunting down
the Slytherins. After some clever maneuvering from the Ravenclaws, they had the Slytherins
surrounded against an impenetrable bush. *Come out and give up*, they yelled! Potter, knowing
that he had no other option, asked the rest of the Slytherins to draw a distraction so he could
flank the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs unbeknownst to them. So Potter got around them in the
following melee. Once behind them, he raised his hands to the sky and clapped them together like
*THIS*!”

Fabian clapped his hands together above his head, the reverberating sound echoing over and over
again in the near empty bar.

“It wasn't a cloudless sky, but a rush of clouds appeared from nowhere as lightning
descended from the heavens. *Then*, the boy shot lightning from his fingertips, striking down
the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. Yet, he didn't see the Gryffindors standing behind him and they
struck him down while he was distracted and the Gryffs ended up winning. That's the *real*
story.”

“Bonkers. Absolute madness,” Big snorted into his drink, a booger mixing in with the beer.

Salt sniffed, both of his thin hands wrapping around the glass of his drink. “I like my story
better.”

“But my version is the truth,” Fabian smugly replied.

A well settled silence overtook the lot of them for a moment. It was an easy kind of silence,
the one held after a strong bout of conversation. After all, these folks had time to kill and
nowhere to go. For them, it was just another night slowly circling down the drain. Fabian picked
his head up from the bar counter, noticing that the Firewhiskey was finally having its intended
effect after his fourth drink.

“That's crazy what they're doing up there. Makes you wonder how the kids feel,” Thomas
broke the silence.

“You want to know what I heard?” Salt perked up, leaning on the bar counter again.

“Oh, not another one of your stories,” Big grumbled.

“Shut up, Big. You're always so damn grumpy.”

“You would be too if you had to listen to the drivel you put out everyday,” Big shot back.

“I'm trying to tell you why they changed that school. Don't you want to know?”

“Everyone knows why they made the school the way it is,” Fabian cut in. “After Dumbledore died,
they wanted to make sure they had enough students capable of fighting the next Dark Lord. Why else
would they do it?”

“No, no, no.” Salt shook his head. “That's not it at all. You're missing a key point.
You see, Dumbledore never died!”

Big and Fabian both groaned and even the unknown man in the cloak snickered from his spot in the
corner of the bar.

“For fucking Merlin's sake, you're not going on about that again are you?” Big moaned.
“Dumbledore died. People *saw* it happen.”

“I swear, you're worse than those travelling Seers sometimes,” Fabian added.

“But it's true! Thomas, you're with me on this one right? Dumbledore is still alive!”
Salt continued.

Thomas chuckled, his belly rolling underneath his plain white shirt. “You're on your own for
this one, Salt.”

“Listen.” Salt downed the rest of his drink as he launched into another one of his stories.

“Dumbledore never died. All of you know the story. It was the middle of the war against
You-Know-Who and it was still pretty much dead locked. Mind you, I was terrified and ready to shit
myself at a moment's notice. Those were dark times.”

“Dark times indeed,” Thomas murmured softly.

“One day, Dumbledore is at one of their secret headquarters and it explodes! Fire and brimstone
and the whole deal! There's a traitor to be had and he flipped the whole plot on them, sicking
You-Know-Who onto their hideout. There was a *major* battle between the Death Eaters and the
so called Order of the Phoenix. This is where everyone *thinks* Dumbledore dies.”

“That tin foil hat on your head must be heavy,” Fabian commented.

“And you're not wrong. Dumbledore did die.”

“I thought you said he didn't die? You really need to learn your own stories,” Big
harped.

“Would you let me finish?” Salt snapped.

“Dumbledore *did* die, but he was up to some very, very dark magic. Magic that can't
even be spoken of.”

“Are you sure you just can't pronounce it?” Fabian asked.

“That's it!” Salt threw his hands in the air. “I can't continue on like this. You are
purposefully undermining my craft.”

Salt pushed away from the bar counter in a huff as Big howled with laughter. Thomas chuckled as
he flicked his wand and refilled Salt's drink. Fabian hauled the little man back while he
laughed, forcing him to sit back down on the stool.

“Alright, alright! Keep going, Salt,” Fabian said.

“And you won't interrupt my story?” Salt jabbed his pointer finger into Fabian's
chest.

“Tell the story.” The man in the cloak growled from the other side of the story.

For the first time, there was a general uneasiness about the quartet on the main side of the
bar. Salt looked over at the man in the cloak nervously, wishing he could at least see his face.
Big shifted in his stool, his little feet swinging uneasily as they all stared at the man in the
cloak to see if he would say anything else.

“Well,” Fabian cleared his throat in an attempt to defuse the tension. “Go on, then.”

Salt paused, still looking warily at the man in the cloak. Clearing his throat as well and
taking another gulp of his warm beer, Salt continued his tale.

“Where was I?”

“Dark magic,” Fabian reminded him.

“Right. Anyway, Dumbledore was practicing some dark magic. Magic that could bring him back from
the grave. So You-Know-Who did kill him and everyone saw that, but that wasn't the end of it.
On the third day, Dumbledore came back -”

“I think you're thinking of a different story,” Big interrupted.

“For the last time, Big!” Salt huffed as he took another drink. “Dumbledore came back and
he's hiding in the forest, drinking unicorn blood to stay alive. That's why you keep
hearing all those stories about unicorns being killed in the forest! That's the spirit of
Dumbledore, trying to stay alive.”

“If Dumbledore is still alive, then why is he drinking unicorn blood?” Thomas asked.

“Well, you see, um, he's actually still dying.”

“But you said he was alive.”

“No, I said that he came back. What you're missing is, um, the fact he needs to drink
unicorn blood.”

“And why does he need to drink unicorn blood?”

“Because it does stuff!”

“Like what stuff?”

“I don't know! What the bloody hell do I look like? A potions master?! That's just how
the story goes. He just needs the unicorn blood!”

“And what does this have to do with why they changed the school?”

“Um, you see, it's a cover. It's a cover for hiding Dumbledore.”

“But he's in the forest.”

Salt glared at Thomas, the usually taciturn bartender. “You're a right bastard, you know
that? You've gone and ruined my story.”

“Not much of a story to ruin in the first place,” Big mumbled into his drink.

“What'd you say?!” Salt whirled around to glare at Big.

Fabian clasped an arm around Salt, laughing as he did so. “Calm down, Salt. They're just
trying to rile you up. I thought it was a perfectly good story.”

Salt continued to bicker with Big, starting to lay into dwarf insults as the alcohol took more
control. Fabian and Thomas laughed at their antics, enjoying the way Salt's skinny arms would
flail about while Big pretended to be a normal sized wizard and jabbed his stubby finger into
Salt's midsection.

“I know a story.”

The man in the cloak spoke up amidst the rambunctious interlude. The quartet fell silent again,
staring at the man in the corner. His warm beer was almost gone, the last dregs being the bubbly
froth of his drink. He was still hunched over, his face unseen.

“I heard that the Dark Lord killed Dumbledore. Then the boy killed the Dark Lord, but a small
piece of the Dark Lord's soul was still alive.”

The man in the cloak shifted on his stool, a row of pearl white teeth finally being shown.
Thomas coughed, hiding his face behind his elbow.

“The Dark Lord haunts the halls of Hogwarts, disturbing students in their sleep. That's why
they made the school the way it is. It's actually the Dark Lord that's running the school
and he's building up an army right underneath our eyes.”

Thomas, Salt, Fabian, and Big looked down the bar, bleary eyes staring at the mysterious man in
the cloak. There was a heavy silence, one that fell over The Dead End like hands clapped over ears.
Then, Big snorted. It was just one ungracious sound, but it set off a chain reaction as the rest of
the group dissolved in raucous laughter.

The man in the cloak abruptly stood up, his stool screeching as the wood scraped against the
floor. His cloak flew off his head and he was finally revealed. There was nothing that mysterious
about him. His hair was long, dark, and oily. His face was round, pudgy and soft like a mango. His
cheeks were red as a tomato as the laughter continued even after they realized he had finally shown
himself.

“What are you laughing at?! This is a serious matter!” he cried.

“You're a fucking riot, mate,” Fabian wheezed out. “*The Dark Lord* haunting the halls
of Hogwarts, building an army. Now, that's quite of a wind up.”

“It's true!” The mystery man exclaimed. “He's going to rebel against the domineering
Ministry and set us free!”

“I think you've had one too many,” Thomas, the bartender, said lightly.

“Haunting the halls,” Big said in a merry tune, swinging his mug to and fro as he and Salt
launched into a chant.

“What's your name, mate? Come over here and stop being a prick,” Fabian implored.

The man in the cloak crossed his arms petulantly in front of him. “My name is Sam and I think
I'm going to take a piss and leave this forsaken place.”

As Sam, the not so mysterious cloaked figure, was leaving, Fabian lurched from his stool, almost
falling and breaking his lengthy nose in the process. This misstep sent Big and Salt into more
hysterics as they struggled to find lyrics for *Haunting the Halls*. Fabian took it in stride,
swigging down another gulp of his Firewhiskey.

“Have a little laugh, Thomas!” Fabian yelled at the strangely straight-faced bartender.

“I think you three can more than take care of that,” said Thomas, who was curiously watching Sam
disappear into the back of the pub.

Fabian figured that Thomas was just making sure he kept track of all his patrons. Needing to
relieve himself as well, Fabian made his way towards the hallway that housed the cramped, two
urinal bathroom. Letting himself in, the falsely acclaimed former Hit Wizard frowned when he found
Sam conspicuously absent from the loo. Unzipping his pants, Fabian called out for the grumpy
man.

“Sam?!”

While he was well on his way for another night of copious drinking, Fabian still had enough wits
about him to find it suspicious that Sam would claim to go to the loo and then not be found just
seconds after Fabian followed him. Fabian had the feeling that the chubby fella believed what he
said and found himself suddenly concerned for the well being of the pub. What if he meant danger?
The pub might have just been a hole in the wall, but it was Fabian's favorite hole in the
wall.

Zipping up, he flushed the urinal and left the loo to find Sam. Figuring he wouldn't head
directly for the bar and that it wouldn't hurt to make sure that Sam wasn't doing anything
dangerous, Fabian followed the hallways back towards the kitchens. He had rarely been in this
particular area, but he figured Thomas wouldn't mind as he was a regular. Creeping slowly,
Fabian called out again.

“Sam?” Fabian asked out in a quieter voice.

Pushing open the swinging door to the kitchen, Fabian found it more perturbing when he found no
one in the kitchens as well. Usually, Thomas would keep a House Elf or at least a cook back here
for late night dinners, but it was strangely empty. There was a cauldron of some sort of boiling in
the middle of the kitchen but upon inspection, it was definitely not alcohol as it held some foul
odor instead.

Thump.

Fabian jumped as he heard something fall against one of the closet doors. His heart suddenly
pounding, Fabian walked slowly towards the closet door, awaiting any movement. Adrenaline coursed
through his veins as he struggled upon a course of action. Perhaps emboldened by the alcohol in his
veins, Fabian threw all caution to the wind and opened the closet door. A thick mass immediately
tumbled out and Fabian was shocked to find Thomas the bartender, unconscious and bound by tight
ropes.

“Thomas?!” Fabian desperately cried, not understanding how Thomas had so quickly found himself
in this predicament.

“I was afraid of that.”

Fabian whirled around to find Thomas, the bartender, standing in front of the swinging kitchen
doors. Blinking, Fabian looked back and forth between the two bodies, trying to find some semblance
of sanity in the situation.

“Why are there two...” Fabian trailed off.

“A locking charm. I must really be out of practice to forget such a simple thing. To be fair, I
didn't have a lot of time before you lot came in.”

Fabian bit his tongue, such was his discomfort. His head kept swiveling between Thomas, the
unconscious bartender on the ground, and Thomas, the strangely regretful bartender in front of him.
He hoped it was just the alcohol and that he had far underestimated how much he drank, but there
was a tendril of dread that started to creep into the back of his mind.

“I suppose I could Obliviate you.”

“Why...why would you Obliviate me?” Fabian wondered in confusion.

Thomas, the one standing, grimaced. “I really shouldn't take any chances.”

Fabian ran both of his hands down his face, taking a deep breathe as he tried to calm down.
“Chances of what?”

The bartender flicked his wrist wordlessly across his body. His hand moved so fast that Fabian
barely realized that he was holding something in his hand. A wand. The bartender was holding...

Pain.

What was hurting?

Fabian struggled to breathe as he felt like he was swallowing water. It was only when he
panicked and looked down that he realized his front was soaked in blood. Fabian's hand came to
his neck, trying to stop the gushing flow of viscous liquid. He fell to one knee, struggling to
breathe as dots swam in and out of his vision. It was like he drowning except he couldn't even
muster the strength to take a breath. Fabian just kept swallowing blood.

As he collapsed onto his back, his hands still clutching at his neck, Fabian looked over at the
bartender that was standing up. The pain was unlike anything he ever imagined, an anvil on his
chest, slowly pushing down and squeezing the life out of him. He kept his eyes on the person that
was standing above him as he silently begged him for help. An incredibly stupid question popped
into his mind. *Who is this man?*

The bartender knelt down, watching him die as the smooth velvet of blood fell from his
throat.

“Who am I? Well, I suppose that's the riddle, isn't it?”

* * * * * * * *

**Update time: 2 days**
 Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7
-->



26. Interlude: Project Theseus
------------------------------



Joseph Carter stepped off the airplane and breathed in the damp air.

He was supposed to meet his England contact in just under twenty-three minutes. There had been
some complications securing an International Portkey after the World Trade Center bombings, so he
had to catch a last minute Muggle flight to England. Still, there was time to spare and he could
finally relax. This promotion into American Security Service was a big jump from his entry level
job. More importantly, he had been assigned to the long rumored and heavily hushed Theseus
Project.

The security clearances and tests he had to pass were brutal and lasted more than six months. He
was tested in everything from expert level Occlumency to advanced field training. While his
official statement was to observe and report, there was a great deal of requirements he had to
fulfill in order to obtain this position. Furthermore, he had been paid a visit by the mythical
wizards of Area 51 as well. Once he had been briefed on the Theseus Project, he realized why all of
these tests were needed.

Instead of passing through customs like the rest of the Muggles, Joseph purposefully walked
towards the men's bathroom. Inside, he entered the last stall and closed the door behind him.
Making sure that no one else was in the bathroom, he placed his feet into the toilet and yanked the
lever. An odd whirling sensation overtook him as he quickly found himself deposited into an alley.
Recalling the instructions from memory, Joseph opened the first door on the left and stepped onto
the marble floor.

“Good evening, Mr. Carter. How was your flight?” asked the young, pleasant lady at the
counter.

“Could have been shorter.” He immediately mimicked her West Midlands accent, playing it off
perfectly.

“You'll find the painting of your choosing to be the third one on the right. Enjoy the
exhibit,” she smiled at him one more time as she handed Joseph a ticket.

Stepping through the curtains behind the receptionist's desk, Joseph found himself in a
long, dimly lit hallway with paintings on either side. There were benches for observation and
Joseph calmly walked to the third painting on the right, approaching the gentlemen that was already
standing in front of it.

The man in front of the painting, was tall, easily clearing six feet. His shoulders were wide
and his hips thick, the build of a man who could probably be a fighter. He was dressed not in a
robe, but in plain Muggle clothing. Perfectly combed over hair accompanied a smooth jaw and to an
objective eye, he was a pleasant man to look upon.

“Hell of a painting, isn't it?” The man said in a not so obvious American accent. To Joseph,
who had quite the ear for accents, there was a hint of Appalachia in his cadence.

The painting in question was a hue of green and brown overshadowed by the gray shades of a
Cumolonimbus cloud. The green plain ramped upwards, giving the illusion that the solitary tree
focused in the forefront was on a higher level. The beauty of the painting was the transition of
colors from the tree towards the heavy clouds above and the overall effect of the slightly tilted
layer was that the lightning looked to be originating from the tree instead of the clouds.

“I don't know much about paintings, sir,” said Joseph.

“I don't know shit about anything, son,” the man confessed.

The tall man turned around, addressing Joseph with a curt nod an extended hand. Joseph gladly
shook his hand, knowing that this man was his contact.

“Joseph Carter, sir.”

The tall man shook his hand, looking him up and down in appraisal.

“You're younger than I thought you'd be,” said the man.

“I'm well qualified, sir, if that's what you're wondering.”

“Qualified.” The man snorted. “I don't think anyone is *qualified* for this
nonsense.”

Not knowing how to respond, Joseph kept quiet. The man shook his head at something, his lips
twisting into a frown.

“I'm John White. You'll be reporting to me for however long you stay. As you can tell, I
don't give a shit about a lot of things, but it's in your best interest to never listen to
me.”

“Why is that, sir?”

“Because everyone in your position has died so far, so I assume I'm not doing a good
job.”

Joseph knew this from his briefing, but opted for silence again. There had been six operatives
since the beginning of the Theseus Project and every agent had their operation prematurely
terminated via undisclosed deaths. Perhaps that was why they didn't give the briefing of the
operation until after Joseph accepted the position.

“I suppose you're caught up on Project Theseus then?”

“Yes I am, sir.”

John White let out a long sigh, looking resignedly ahead. “Let's get going then.”

Before White took a step, Joseph had to ask, “Is that your real name?”

“Nope,” White answered. Then, he grinned. “My name used to be John Black or John Brown or John
Green. I forget after a while. You don't survive as long as I do by keeping your own name.”

Pivoting his foot, John braced his hand against the exquisite, gold frame of the painting. He
raised his leg to clear the lower barrier of the frame and walked into the painting, his body
molding into the canvas. John turned around, his picturesque appearance adopting the slightly oily
spread of the painting.

“Mind your head. It feels a bit weird the first time you do it,” John said with a wry smile.

Cocking his head, Joseph placed his hand against the ornate frame, feeling the thick material.
He experimentally laid his palm against the canvas and found his hand disappearing into the
painting. Realizing that John wasn't waiting around for him, Joseph took the plunge and stepped
inside the painting, shivering as he felt a harsh grating against his skin. The sensation was not
unlike Apparition, but there was a more intense drawing sensation upon his whole body. Wobbling,
Joseph took a moment to regain his bearings.

Inside the painting, everything still had the same oily outline. The tree scaled to size as he
took a step towards it, but the sketch of the lightning remained the same, the flash caught in that
visible millisecond. As he turned his head, Joseph found that the painting expanded to more than
just what was in the frame. John was walking to his right, not bothering to slow down for him.
Stretching his legs, Joseph quickened his pace to catch up with the older man.

The grass didn't crunch like it usually did and instead of the soft push of the earth, his
feet walked over a solid, reinforced surface. Looking down at his hands, Joseph realized that his
whole body was drawn in the form of the same oils used for the painting. Looking up, he spotted a
doorway in the distance. It wasn't attached to anything and it didn't look like it had any
support, yet John White nee Black was walking towards it with a purpose.

As Joseph caught up to John, the latter turned around with a patient expression.

“You feeling okay?” John asked.

“The visuals are a bit surprising, but my body feels fine,” Joseph answered.

“Good. Good. There's a hundred and twenty-seven second wait period until you become this
painting.”

“And what time are we on now?” Joseph asked with a raised eyebrow.

John shrugged. “Hell, I don't know. Over sixty, I think? Just making sure you know if I
can't make a meeting for some reason. The scene ain't half bad, but I wouldn't want to
be in here forever.”

“I'm guessing we have to go through that door then.”

John smiled, his handsome face brightening for a moment. “*Qualified*, you say.”

Stepping forward, John White opened the door, his hand twisting the knob as he pulled himself
out of the way. As the door opened, Joseph found himself looking into a dark void. The blackness
filled the entire door frame, a sharp contrast to the green and brown hues of the painting. Peering
closer, Joseph found no source of light or anything else that could possibly reveal what was on the
other side of the door.

“Shall we?” John asked with a half bow, extending his hand towards the black void.

As much as he enjoyed the exquisite painting, Joseph preferred the banalities of the real
world.

* * * * * *

The darkness enveloped him as soon as he stepped through the doorway.

Joseph stayed calm, trusting his contact to not lead him into something dangerous. There were
obvious security measures being taken in order to attend this meeting and judging by the importance
of the Theseus Project, they were not taking it lightly.

“He's clear,” said a low, gruff voice.

His vision slowly came to, the darkness fading away like a light bulb turning on. Joseph
remained still, waiting until his vision returned. He slowly absorbed his surroundings, noting the
white walls of the room and the solitary door towards the far end. In front of it were two men.

The man on the left was an oddball to a particular degree. He was wearing multiple layers even
though it was summer, a dilapidated leather jacket covering most of his body. His left leg was a
hulking, wooden monstrosity with toes that were carved into claws. His face bore multiple scars,
most faded over time. A chunk of his nose was missing, but nothing compared to the brilliant, blue
eye held by a band that wrapped around his head. It was whizzing around, twirling multiple
revolutions per second.

The man on the right was far more nondescript. He had grey hair, thin and drawn to a point like
a hawk. Though he looked to be shorter than the oddball on the left, Joseph could see that the man
was hunched over. His arms were crossed, but his body could never be construed as large. His skin
was pale as a ghost, almost to the point of unhealthiness. Yet, his grey eyes were alive with
intent and desire, a contrast to his seemingly decaying body.

“Joseph Carter?” The man on the right spoke up, his voice soft but firm.

“He's with me.”

John White stepped out from behind Joseph, his feet resuming the brisk pace.

“Alastar. Wendell.” John addressed both of them with a curt nod and neither of them made an
attempt to stop the American from walking through the door.

Sensing that there were no other pleasantries to be had, Joseph quickly followed John, smiling
politely at both of the men. Wendell, the man on the right, smiled back at him, but Alastor, the
man on the left, simply scowled. Even as Joseph walked through the door, he had the distinct
feeling that the whirling, blue eye was following him.

“You're probably too young to know, but the psycho on the left is Alastor Moody,” John
said.

Taking Joseph's silence as a cue that he was right, John continued, “He was one of the top
Aurors in the 60's and the 70's. Lost that eye and the leg to some dark wizard before
Voldemort's War and they wouldn't let him continue, but he's about ten times more
useful than any of the Aurors they have now.”

“What's his position? Bodyguard?”

“Teacher.” John smiled again but every smile was more forced.

“Teacher? As in Hogwarts? I noticed in the Theseus files that I didn't have any dossiers on
the Hogwarts teachers.”

“One of many things that the main psycho wouldn't let us have. I can understand secrecy and
privacy as much as the next man in this business, but it hampers our ability to carry out our
mission if we don't have the right information in our hands.”

“Who is the main psycho?” Joseph asked as they continued down the unmarked hallway.

“That would be Headmaster Severus Snape. Given your *qualifications*, I'm sure you know
who he is.”

Indeed, Joseph had read the entire file on the lead of the Theseus Project. Severus Snape was an
excellent student at Hogwarts with advanced marks in Potions. There was nothing overwhelmingly
remarkable about his early life. He was the son of a Pureblood and a Muggle and there were notes
from various sources that indicated possible neglect on the parents' part, but there was
nothing substantial. Still, his Hogwarts record was unblemished as were his Ministry files.

According to second hand sources in the files, it was extraordinary when the deceased Albus
Dumbledore highlighted his wish to have the then twenty-two year old Severus Snape to succeed him
as headmaster. Recommendations from previous headmasters or even deceased headmasters were nothing
new, but this particular one rankled more than a few feathers in the Board of Governors. It would
have been a tough task for anyone to succeed the late Albus Dumbledore, but for it to possibly be
someone just years removed from Hogwarts was nothing short of lunacy.

It was at this point that the Theseus Project started in earnest. It was also in this part of
the file that had several redacted passages and pages that were censored by magic far out of
Joseph's abilities. Several passages and documents were blackened out, but he surmised that
there were unknown forces within the England Ministry that enforced this pilot project. Names, in
particular, were scarce, but it was obvious that Theseus originated from the deeply disturbed minds
of the Department of Mysteries. The parent of Area 51, the Department of Mysteries made several
inquiries and requests to have Severus Snape head the Theseus Project.

From that point on, the files became nigh unreadable. Every other line was redacted and
censored, making it difficult at best to have a grasp of the situation. There were only key points
that were impossible to understand without context. Phrases such as *premature power cap,
declining rate of growth,* and *high correlation with emotional transference* were
surrounded by blacked out text that Joseph could not bewitch.

"When did the inquiries about the Theseus Project start?" Joseph asked as he turned a
corner in this seemingly endless hallway.

"Given the potential ramifications of the program, the necessary governments were alerted
as soon as the project was green lit. The sensitive and, frankly, barbaric nature led to a mutual
pact of complicity for the first five years of the project. Afterwards, a yearly review is required
for the countries that are in the know," John answered with a lengthy response.

"Permission to speak off the record, sir?"

"This whole thing is off the record." John rolled his eyes.

Joseph bit the inside of his cheek to hold back a smarmy response. "It's about the file
highlighting the just cause for the project. I find the justifications a
bit...*murky.*"

John snorted as he came to a stop in front of a pair of doors adjacent to each other.
"You're not the only one. Why else do you think we're here?"

John opened the door on the left, quickly stepping inside. Joseph followed the older man and his
eyes adjusted one last time as the change from the stark, white walls of the hallway contrasted
with the muted darkness of this last room. Once his pupils adjusted, Joseph found an enclosed
amphitheatre that held a singular person on the staging floor. He was seated behind a desk and his
head was buried in a journal, but there was no mistake as to who this focal figure was.

Severus Snape.

"This way," John waved Joseph over with a quieter voice.

There was a soft hush of sound, like water slowly splashing against a rock. There were tables on
each step of the amphitheatre, spread out in a semi circle that surrounded Snape. There were only a
few people seated at each table, less than three usually, and no one paid attention to them as they
walked inside.

“What is this place?” Joseph whispered to John.

Navigating around two men speaking French, John whispered back, “We're deep within the
Department of Mysteries. It's where they hold these meetings. I can't really tell you where
exactly this place is as you saw how convoluted it was to get here in the first place.”

“They're certainly going through great lengths to keep this secret. How does the Minister
feel about this?”

John actually laughed. “They didn't put that in your files? The Minister knows
*nothing* about this. Merlin forbid he actually did. That bumbling oaf would collapse on the
spot. This is strictly need to know and it's a very tight circle.”

How tight the circle was seemed to be up to interpretation. Just on a quick head count, Joseph
marked no less than fifty people in this strange amphitheatre. Furthermore, a group of wizards not
associated with a table were seated towards the upper tier of the grandstand, observing from the
shadows.

“Who are they?” Joseph nudged his head towards the rafters.

John's glance flickered towards the mystery men and he was uncharacteristically sober in his
response. “Unspeakables. Best to leave them alone.”

John arrived at what must have been their table as he took one of two seats behind it. There
were no markings representing their country or anything else that could have significantly
identified them. They were just two more faces in a very eclectic crowd. To his right were a pair
of Spaniard women discussing something in rapid Spanish with low tones. A warlock and a beast of a
man, probably a half-giant, were watching Snape mutely. Down the lines and stands, everyone spoke
in hush tones or remained silent.

Finally, three people emerged from the door where Joseph and John had entered the large staging
area. The first was a woman with brilliant, white hair. It was the color of snow, shining brightly
under the dim light of the amphitheatre. Her stride was purposeful, precise, and direct. The second
was a tall man with hair not unlike Snape. It was long, smooth, and black and he also held the air
of someone who was not to be trifled with. The third was a short, rounder fellow with a sour
disposition like he had eaten a particularly bad batch of Every Flavor Beans.

“Main panel. They lead the initial questionnaire, then afterwards we follow with a Q&A
session,” John explained.

“Do you know who they are?” Joseph asked.

“Their names are kept to themselves. As a general rule, don't tell your name to anyone. The
more people you know, the faster information disseminates. You were chosen for this role for your
assumed discretion. I won't hesitate to have you taken care of,” John warned.

“What does *taken care of* imply?”

“Use your imagination.”

* * * * * * *

“Before we begin with the questions, Mr. Snape, there have been some general inquiries on the
status of your search for Voldemort. According to your review last year, in your opinion, there was
a substantial reason to believe that his return was imminent. Unfortunately, there has been little
evidence to correlate any sort of return. Do you have any updates at this time?”

The white haired women spoke fluidly, not a stutter or pause in her phrasing. The perfect relay
of her thoughts echoed loudly in the chamber and the onus of the spotlight was decidedly on Snape.
Her thick Scouse accent gave away her origins. Joseph watched from behind his table, seven rows up,
and made sure to pay attention to Snape's body language. Even as a young adult, Joseph had a
talent for reading people. The recruiters highlighted it as a strength of his and he used that
strength to every advantage. Yet, he could not glean anything off Snape. His jaw was set in a firm
line, but his hands were crossed on top of each other on top of his table, and there were no other
overt signs of nervousness.

“I am confident that his return is imminent if he has not *already* returned. As we've
detailed in several meetings before, Voldemort has remained in a state of living in accompaniment
of his Horcruxes. While my colleagues and I have successfully destroyed all but one Horcrux,
multiple indicators have led us to believe that Voldemort has already returned.”

There was a hushed murmur, a tremor barely heard around the amphitheatre, but audible
nonetheless. Even any mention of the word, *Voldemort*, caused several wizards and creatures
to shift uncomfortably in their seats.

“He said the same thing last meeting,” John whispered as he leaned over to give running
commentary. “I think he's right in this. Eastern Europe doesn't start growing abuzz with
the phrase, *The Dark Lord*, without any truth in it.”

“What have your colleagues found that has led you to believe this?” The short, fat one of the
three pressed Snape on the topic.

“Increased activity of known dark sectors in Eastern Europe. Former and known Death Eaters
suddenly contacting each other with increasing frequency. Finally, a sighting of Peter Pettigrew in
Bulgaria.”

At the mention of Pettigrew, Joseph caught movement out of the corner of his eye. At the lowest
rung of the stone stands, there sat a solitary figure with no table to shield him from the
proceedings and no one else surrounding him. He was dressed in plain, black robes, but the tattoos
were evident in the remaining skin that he bared. His hair was cropped short, tangled and swept to
the side, and his dark eyes glittered coldly even in the sparse light. Joseph thought he was oddly
familiar, but he couldn't quite place him.

“Do you know who that is?” Joseph leaned over to ask John.

“He looks a bit different now, but that's Sirius Black.”

Joseph snapped his fingers in annoyance, disappointed in himself for not being able to figure
out who it was. Black was the Potter's purported Secret-Keeper, but that fact had been proven
false by Snape. He was quietly released from Azkaban without the public knowing, but there were no
other files on him.

“Is he one of Snape's colleagues?” Joseph asked as one of the people in the main panel asked
another question.

“One of several, though I heard there's no love lost between them.”

Joseph kept his eyes on Sirius Black, watching the falsely accused man while Snape answered
another question. Black was in a relaxed posture, his back snugly fit against the ledge where the
stone rose to support another stand. One leg was crossed on top of the other and he occasionally
tossed his wand in the air to head height before catching it and bouncing his wand against his lap.
All in all, Sirius Black looked bored by the proceedings.

“We have precautions in place but for obvious reasons, we would like to know when you have any
updated information in regards to Voldemort's movements. On the same track, what is our
progress with Project Theseus?” It seemed like the old woman with the white hair was the one
leading the questioning panel.

“We believe that we are two years from maximizing the ability of our students. As I've
demonstrated in previous hearings, their maximum power potential is going to peak at the height of
their adolescence. Based on previous tests of mature wizards and witches, there is a significant
cap of magical ability after this peak. We feel that we are well on schedule with the progression
of our assets." Snape responded with an air of rehearsal.

The tall man who was visually similar to Snape cleared his throat. "I know we went over
this last meeting, Snape, but there have been more disturbing reports that you have expanded, for
the lack of a better word, your influence upon the student's lives."

"I'm not sure I understand what you're saying."

"A pair of Muggles were killed this past winter. They were the parents of one of your
students and there was a significant magical trace on their automotive vehicle."

"We have investigated that matter as well. We believe it was the work of a rogue smatter of
Death Eaters that had identified that particular student as gifted. We are treating it as such and
keeping that student under intense scrutiny."

Snape answered calmly, like he was reading from a book. Joseph detected not a smidgen of guilt
within the headmaster. Furthermore, there was not a single trace of misplaced emotion. His words
were affected perfectly, reflecting concern and practicality perfectly. Joseph had encountered
expert Occlumens before that could lie with such ease.

"What do you think?" John asked. "Is he lying?"

"I can't say he's lying, but I can't say he's telling the truth. He's
perfect. Unreadable," Joseph answered with a tinge of admiration.

"But if you were pressed for an answer, what would you say?"

"Honestly, I can't say. I'm very good at reading people but that requires them
having emotions. Snaps is...devoid of that."

"I thought you were recruited for your *expert* ability to read people."

"Expert Legilimency, top of my class in Subversive Magic, and I hold the top score in
Linguistics for the nation. I'm good, not perfect."

"You're going to have to be better than good, kid." John leaned back, indicating
this particular conversation was over.

Joseph tightened his lips and renewed his attentions on Snape.

The tall man didn't seem content to just let the subject drop. “Mr. Snape, you must
understand that this project has received very little oversight up until this time and given that,
we have numerous questions that, in my honest opinion, you have successfully evaded so far.”

“I have answered the full truth in every aspect so far. Is there something not to your
satisfaction?”

“There are several things that have not been adequately answered. First and foremost would be
your, frankly, draconian oversight at Hogwarts. You have refused to give adequate progress reports
not only on students but on all hires and on anything that has been achieved or taught at the
school.”

Snape cocked his head, turning both of his hands upwards and exposing his palms. It was a
classic plea for openness.

“In accordance to the original project specifications, I am allowed as much discretion as needed
in order to -”

The tall man interrupted him. “We all know what the original specifications are. What we are
trying to accomplish here is to facilitate a more open channel of information between your school
and certain departments of the Ministry. How are we supposed to prepare for the return of Voldemort
if we don't know the exact capabilities of the Hogwarts students?”

“The original specification also outline the steps the Ministry needs to take in order to
prepare for the assumed return of -”

The tall man interrupted him again with an impatient wave of his hand. In contrast, Snape was
the perfect example of stoicness, a calm ship amidst waves trying to crush him.

“We all know what the *original specifications* are -”

“Then why are you asking?”

“Because we're steering our broomsticks blindfolded here!” The tall man threw both of his
hands in the air, gesturing incredulously. “You are telling us that Voldemort, the second greatest
wizard of our generation or the first depending on who you speak to, is returning and our main
defense against him is unknown to almost every facet of the Ministry except for the ones who own
this very chamber that we've been *gracefully* invited to convene in.”

The resounding silence was more powerful than anything the tall man could have said. Not a
single soul spoke in the amphitheatre. Joseph turned to John, who was grinning like a Cheshire
cat.

Snape spoke again, breaking the reverie. “While I understand your concerns, you will find that
the Department of Mysteries has more than enough information to carry out the necessary plans
should the worst occur. Furthermore, every single piece of information transmitted from the school
towards the Ministry is another opportunity for those who wish to disrupt this project. After all,
this project does have its origins in the Ministry's failings during the First War.”

The tall man slumped back into his seat, visibly defeated. When neither the old woman with the
white hair nor the short, fat man said anything in support of him, Joseph knew that the tall man
would get no more support this day in procuring more information about Project Theseus.

“For what it's worth, he's telling the truth,” Joseph whispered.

John nodded in confirmation. “Very good.”

The old woman with the white hair cleared her throat, trying to break up the awkward silence.
“Since that subject is closed, let us move onto our next line of questioning. Mr. Snape, could you
enlighten us on certain rumors we are hearing of the Potter boy...”

* * * * * *

The hearing continued in the same vein. Snape deftly avoided answering any serious questions but
never broke the appearance that he was doing anything but telling the truth. It was a very thin
tightrope to balance for normal people, but Snape was no normal person in Joseph's opinion. He
had never seen someone so at ease despite the ominous setting and the numerous, and there were
*numerous*, questions thrown at him. What made it all the more impressive was that Joseph left
the meeting knowing no more than he entered.

“What do you think?” John asked, reflecting Joseph's thoughts.

“Wildly uninformative,” Joseph shortly answered.

“Then you understand my boredom of these hearings. As you saw, Snape is as good as they come.
Those folks won't be learning anything about Theseus until that damn Voldemort actually comes
back. The Department of Mysteries holds all the keys and no one's happy about that, but what
are they going to do? Politicians have no real power when there's no one to order around.”

“A power struggle in the Ministry?”

John shook his head as they watched the others leave the amphitheatre. “Not a power struggle.
The Unspeakables aren't concerned about power. They have far bigger things to worry about than
political struggles. Still, that doesn't stop the Wizengamot from fretting.”

“Then why get involved at all? Aren't they notorious for being hands off?” Joseph asked as
he watched Sirius Black approach the podium and converse with Snape.

“Usually. Yet, this Dark Lord seems to have their attention. I suppose that's what happens
when you kill Albus Dumbledore.”

“Is he really dead?” Joseph continued his line of questioning as they stood up to leave.

“Dead as can be. Why else would we be here?”

Joseph made for the back exit where everyone else was heading, but John started walking down the
stone steps instead. Confused, Joseph made a quick turn and followed the older man. As they reached
pit of the amphitheatre, Joseph realized that they were headed straight for Snape, one of the main
architects of the Theseus Project. He wanted to ask John what they were doing, but he didn't
want to do so in fear of looking foolish in front of the intimidating headmaster of Hogwarts.

“Mr. White, good of you to come,” Snape said as he collected his folders.

“Always a pleasure to attend these meetings, Snape. This is our new recruit.”

Snape appraised him with a glance, but Joseph caught the passive Legilimency floating over him
like a soft caress. Joseph immediately thought of the wooden walls of his home, the wood morphing
under the gloss. It was his trigger to sink into his Occlumency shields as he repelled a weak
attempt by Snape.

Arching a single eyebrow without moving any other part of his face, Snape greeted him with a
slight nod of his head. “Hello, Mr. Carter.”

“Mr. Snape.” Joseph nodded back in kind.

The headmaster of Hogwarts stepped off the slightly raised dais and walked towards the unlit
part of the amphitheatre. Curiously, Sirius Black was following them but at a sizable distance.
Joseph felt unnerved by the man's presence given that he was to his flank.

“I trust you found it informative,” Snape said to John.

“As it always is.”

Feeling the need to interject, Joseph asked, “What is the point of it anyways? If you don't
mind, Mr. Snape, it all seems like a dog and pony show.”

Snape looked at Joseph with his dark, bottomless eyes. “All of the people you saw are various
members of other country's secret organizations. It is upon their discretion to disclose
whatever information they glean to their governments, but one simply can not militarize a school
without questions being asked...even if our own Minister knows nothing of the true intentions of
our project.”

“So you're stringing them along?” Joseph continued.

“This one *is* clever,” Snape commented to John.

John looked back at Joseph with a smile. “Qualified, they say.”

Distracted by the conversation, Joseph didn't notice that they were already in a different
setting. Spinning on his foot, he realized the amphitheatre was gone and behind him was a bare
stone wall. It was a shockingly seamless transition, one that did not have the strange drawing
sensation of stepping into the oil canvas. The three, no four, of them were within a strange room
that had sloped walls leading to a point in the ceiling. Said walls were tan, smooth and
mirror-like in appearance.

“Is this your man?” Snape asked with a bare hint of Manchester in his voice.

“He's promising,” John answered.

Joseph recalled the timber walls of his childhood home, falling back on peaceful waves of
Occlumency in order to temper his impatience. While he accepted that he was in the business of
subterfuge, Joseph didn't particularly enjoy talking in code, or rather, when people talked in
code that he couldn't understand. Out of the corner of his eye, Joseph spotted Sirius Black
leaning against a wall, his wand still held firmly in his hand. Black had the look of a jackal, his
posture slack and relaxed against a wall but the hard line of his jaw and the dark, coal eyes
contrasting against his seemingly easy going stance.

Snape walked around him, his formidable nose raised in the air and his empty, brown eyes
inspecting him.

“Mr. White informs me that you are a classified Expert in Legilimency and Occlumency as well as
having a unique affinity towards Linguistics,” Snape drawled.

Joseph altered his jaw line, sticking it out while letting his tongue lay low. He lifted his
chin to open up his passage way as he perfectly mimicked Snape.

“I have Expert status on Legilimency and Advanced status on Occlumency. I graded top of my class
in Subversive magic and hold the highest scores in the United States for Linguistics,” Joseph
drawled, making sure to stretch out some syllables and elongating any words that ended with an “s.”
The result was an almost perfect match of Snape's inflection, the only difference being a
slight alteration in the tone that would have only been heard by an equally accomplished
Linguist.

Sirius Black barked in laughter, his deep voice filling the strangely tan and pyramidic room. He
tapped his wand against his bicep, his unfathomably dark eyes merrily dancing.

“He's good. I like this one,” Black said.

“Impressive annotation,” Snape noted, nodding to himself as he continued to circle Joseph like a
shark.

Joseph glanced at John, who seemed far too amused for such a strange situation. “What's
going on, John?” Joseph asked.

John White exhaled, running a hand through his greying hair. “Your briefing wasn't entirely
informative of the situation. There have been complications tracking Voldemort. The headmaster here
has enlisted our help for a particular goal.”

“I assume one that will involve me,” Joseph added.

Snape cleared his throat, sniffing noisily through his nose. “You have a particular set of
skills that are quite useful for this goal. You will need some more training, particularly in
Occlumency and cultural submergence, but your skills are uniquely fitted for this purpose.”

“What *particular* skill?”

This time, it was Sirius Black who spoke, finally talking in full. “Voldemort has gone dark.
This is quite unlike him. He is showy. He is a braggart. He likes to make himself known. Yet, for
the past six months, we have heard nary a word from our ears on the ground.”

“In the meeting, you said you had near confirmation that he had returned,” Joseph said.

“We do,” Sirius confirmed. “Yet, that information's outdated. We know he's been back
since the start of winter. We assumed that there would have been more than murmurs, but it seems he
has retracted and the only reason he would go into hiding is if he were -”

“-preparing something,” Joseph finished.

“See?” Sirius said to Snape, “He is good. Anyway, given the strangely homogenous nature of his
followers, it is hard for us to have a contact that Voldemort doesn't know by some degree of
separation. Since a majority of his followers are alumni of Hogwarts, it is not easy for us to
introduce someone within their circle of acquaintances without word quickly flying up the chain.
Conversely, any foreign inquiries into the Death Eaters would also likely be met with suspicion.
Therefore, we require a unique subject that is simultaneously neither a Hogwarts alumni nor
*sounds* like a foreigner. Of course, above all, they must be well trained in secrecy and
deception.”

Joseph didn't need to be an academic to figure out what they were asking.

“You want me to spy on the Death Eaters and Voldemort.”

John gave him a sad smile. “You are *qualified*.”

Snape stopped pacing around him and added, “We will take some time to brush up your Occlumency
as well as submerge you within your cover identity. We must warn you that this is a deep cover.
Communication will be scarce and there is no time table.”

Joseph took a few seconds to look at each of them in turn. Snape was undecipherable as always,
his mask a veneer of calmness. John had a consigned acceptance about him, a realization of the road
that Joseph would have to take. Sirius was...excited? Joseph found him difficult to read for elated
would have been one of the last emotions prudent for the situation.

“This will help the Theseus Project? It will help....the Potter boy?”

“Unimaginably so,” Snape answered.

It wasn't really a decision he had to wrestle his conscious with. Joseph instinctively knew
what he wanted to do as soon as Sirius Black had sketched the outline of the circumstances. The
only reason there was a slight delay in his response was to make sure he didn't look
overeager.

“Give me a name and a story and I'll find you Voldemort.”

***

**Update Time: 3 days**
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27. To Dream a Dream
--------------------



**Book 2: The Man Of Many Names**

***********

“**HARRY***!**”*

The voice was shrill and loud, piercing through his eardrums. There was a touch of desperation
about it, the way the second syllable was stretched out into the eons of time. The voice had been
coming more often, visiting frequently in the dark hours of the night. Sometimes, it would start
quiet - muted almost. It would crescendo until it rattled his skull, echoing until Harry woke up
awash with sweat, gasping for air and scrambling for his glasses as he tried to convince himself it
was just a dream.

Yet, he couldn't get rid of the niggling feeling that the voice was anything but a
dream.

“Harry!”

Blinking, Harry Potter scanned the crowd with his forest green eyes, squinting through his
glasses as he searched for the origin of the sound. King's Cross was packed for another year at
Hogwarts Battle School and Harry stood alone with his trunk in the middle of a crowd swarming with
parents and students alike. Although he had grown an inch or two during the summer, Harry was still
considered on the small side for his age. He strained his calves, tip toeing until he saw carefully
curled dark hair fighting its way through the crowd.

Tracey Davis nimbly dodged a plump woman who seemed to be the mother of an irate First Year and
beamed as she spotted Harry. She was all smiles, bright blue eyes, and incredibly tanned legs. The
white shorts only served to highlight her shapely legs and Harry mentally forced himself to meet
her eyes as she rushed forward to envelop him in a tight hug. The aromas of her lightly curled hair
overwhelmed him for a moment and he made sure that his hand placement was careful after he felt a
patch of skin as her shirt rose in the back.

“How was your summer?!”

Uneventful - just the way he wanted it.

For some reason or the other, Vernon Dursley had avoided any sort of conflict with Harry. The
latter assumed the worst at the close of the last school year when Hermione Granger had not so
lightly hinted that she knew more than her fair share of public peace keepers. However, Vernon had
left Harry alone, even passing off most of his daily commands to Petunia. Harry didn't mind,
especially since they allowed him to eat dinner unimpeded in his dingy room. Whilst Dudley
didn't improve in his malicious tendencies, Harry had grown craftier in avoiding him. For one,
Dudley couldn't do anything while his mother was in the house as Petunia was still wilfully
ignorant of her son and her husband's violent habits. On the occasion that Harry would step out
of the house to explore the surroundings or just get a fresh breath of air, he made sure to avoid
any of Dudley's hangouts and noted several escape routes should he run into Dudley and his
gang.

It frustrated him, at first, to resort to such tactics in order to avoid Dudley. Harry could
have easily bamboozled Dudley with his wand, but the laws were quite clear that he could not use
his wand while he was underage and not attending school. The fear of not returning to Hogwarts, the
only place he found happiness, was enough to stay Harry's wand despite the strong urge to cast
more than just a Stunning spell on Dudley. Still, Trow had taught him to adapt to his circumstances
and so he did, mindfully staying out of Dudley's business until the school year approached at
the turn of July.

Even better, he had received letters from Tracey and Blaise to occupy his time. Tracey explained
that she was spending the early part of summer vacationing with her mother in sunny Spain. Through
not so subtle words, she outlined that her father had remained behind on her mother's request
so they could enjoy the vacation without exploding into another frightful argument about
Tracey's future. She promised him that she would have a gift for him when he returned and
wished him an early birthday by delivering a pair of gloves made of dragon hide that could
withstand anything from heat of a dragon's breath to the frosty chilliness of winter.

Blaise sent him a pamphlet from the finals of the Quidditch World Cup. His mother had somehow
gotten him tickets from one of her former lovers that was still alive. Blaise excitedly explained,
in tortuous and lengthy detail, the bets he had made in order to make a tidy profit from the games,
even predicting that Viktor Krum, the young Seeker sensation, would catch the Snitch to win the
final. As a birthday gift, the dark Slytherin sent Harry a pair of Omnioculars that contained a
replay of the final match between Ireland and Bulgaria. Harry was particularly enamored by the
Veela mascots of the Bulgarian National team and expressed his gratitude towards Blaise for
providing him some material for those particular late summer nights.

Despite the lack of human contact, the hours of ennui, the inane conversations of the Dursleys,
and the lack of magic, Harry had found this summer much more pleasant than any of his previous
ones.

“It was fine,” Harry answered shortly with a smile.

“Fine,” Tracey snorted, “Tell me about everything you did!”

“Well, I hid from Dudley, read your letters, and finished some required reading material for the
next year,” Harry explained.

“Living on the edge, are we?” She asked playfully with a wink.

“Positively dangerous.”

“Positively boring is more like it.”

Blaise Zabini - tall, dark, and handsome if he were to describe himself - approached them with
his arms obnoxiously stretched out wide, purposefully whacking a few of the younger students as he
walked by. Harry rolled his eyes, noting that it took less than one minute for Blaise to announce
his presence in grandstanding fashion.

Blaise's grin grew even wider as he looked Tracey up and down. “Tracey, that tan is quite
agreeable on you.”

Tracey and Harry met eyes and both of them delivered matching eye rolls.

“It's nice to see you too, Blaise,” she answered dryly as she approached him for a hug.

“Oh don't be like that,” Blaise admonished. “You wouldn't be wearing those shorts if you
didn't want people to notice.”

This time, she punched him squarely on the shoulder. Blaise was definitely right, though, as
Harry found his eyes back on her legs like they were a visual tractor beam. She laughed at Blaise
and hit him again, but it was more playful than harmful. Harry joined in on the laughter as he
immediately felt right at home, like a missing part inserted into place. The Hogwarts Express
sounded off a shrill whistle as it warned that the time to board was upon them.

“Oh quickly now! We have to square off a compartment before the good ones are taken.” Blaise
left them without a second word, rushing off with his luggage as he plowed through a tiny First
Year.

“I have to say goodbye to my mother, but I'll find you on the train!” Tracey squeezed
Harry's forearm as she departed.

Just as quickly, Harry was alone again as the crowd pushed its way towards the train. Making
sure to gather his belongings, Harry took one step towards the Hogwarts Express to join Blaise but
stopped when he spotted a familiar tangle of bushy hair out of the corner of his eye. She was
standing with a woman he didn't recognize, pointing at the train and talking quickly. They were
at a medium distance, but he knew her lecturing expression in an instance. Making a quick decision,
Harry grabbed onto the rolling cart with his trunks and made for Hermione Granger.

She spotted him during his approach and Harry was happy to see that she looked much healthier
than she did at the end of the year. Perhaps a summer away had done much to ease her frayed nerves.
Gone were the bags under her eyes and the constant sickly pallor. Even her hair was more
manageable, staying down in mostly contained waves tossed over one shoulder. On the other hand, her
eyes seemed skittish as he came near and there wasn't an instantaneous smile on her face like
Tracey.

Looking from Hermione to whoever was accompanying her, Harry came to a stop and gave them a
small smile.

“Hello, Hermione,” he said.

“Harry,” Hermione answered with a curt nod. “Um, this is my Aunt Carol. Carol, this is Harry. He
goes to Hogwarts too.”

Carol smiled though her eyes still shifted nervously at every owl in a cage or hovering hat that
floated by. “It's nice to meet you, Harry. Are you from the Gryffindor house as well?”

“No, I'm from Slytherin.”

“Oh!” It was the sort of surprise where Carol knew she had to be surprised, but she didn't
know why. It must have been confusing for her, taking care of her niece while simultaneously
finding out that her niece also happened to be a witch that attended a magical boarding school
where they focused on dueling and had a demented headmaster that was hell bent on making his life
miserable. Carol was a plain, middle-aged woman with medium length brown hair in a bob and an
unrecognizable face and she had the mannerisms of such a woman.

Breaking up the awkward interlude, Hermione said, “Yes, well, I should really get going. Thank
you, Carol - for everything."

What ensued was an awkward show of affection from Hermione as she grasped her aunt in a light
hug. Feeling like he was intruding, Harry looked away, focusing on the steam rising from the engine
cart of the train.

"Be sure to write me with those owls. That McGonagall lady said they make good time though
I don't understand why you can't just ring me up," Carol said.

"Magic has a way of confusing things," Hermione explained.

"They certainly do." Carol crossed her arms and looked around uncertainly.

"I can help her with her things," Harry offered, sensing Carol's nervousness.

The older woman smiled at him kindly. "How pleasant of you. I should be going anyway. I
don't want to get lost in here."

"Remember, just walk through the wall. You'll go right through," Hermione reminded
her aunt.

Carol nodded absent-mindedly, looking around for said barrier. She turned to him and said,
"Take care of her, Harry."

"I'm sure he'll do a great job," Hermione said and Harry had to bite back a
smile at the undercurrent of sarcasm in her voice.

As Carol left, a silence settled between Harry and Hermione. The former struggled to find
something pertinent to say, feeling oddly uncomfortable and unable to recall anything from his
mind. Hermione was no better, her head ducked down as students and parents bustled by them. Harry
bit his tongue, hopping a bit on his toes in an effort to diffuse the tension. Thankfully, Hermione
must have decided that she, too, was unable to handle the strangeness.

“I hope your summer was well,” she finally said, one hand on the handle of her cart as she
started towards the train.

“Better than I could have hoped for,” Harry answered as he followed her.

“You were...treated well?” Hermione asked, opting for discretion given the abundance of curious
ears around them.

Harry shrugged. “No one bothered me.”

“I'm glad,” she said sincerely.

It was hard to have a conversation as they weaved through the crowd. The platform seemed
particularly crowded this year as there were definitely an overabundance of parents. Fortunately,
neither Harry nor Hermione were burdened by such things. As they reached the train, Hermione turned
to Harry and gestured vaguely towards their particular carriage.

"Well, I'll be seeing you, Harry," Hermione said in rather short fashion, hoisting
her trunks onto the train without any word.

Harry didn't even have a chance to say good-bye as she left. It struck him as odd. Hermione
Granger was many things: intelligent, arrogant, stubborn, confident, blunt, proud, but she was
*not* a coward. Why, then, did she practically run away from him?

As the train signaled one last time, Harry climbed onto the train, wondering what exactly had
Hermione so skittish.

* * * *

Harry waited patiently for a moment, letting others pass by with their full bags, clogging the
already cramped hallways. The train was just starting to roll forward, the light jostling not
enough to disrupt his balance.

“I hate fighting through the crowds too.”

The owner of the voice was Cedric Diggory, tall with a pleasant smile on a handsome face topped
with exquisitely windswept hair. He, too, was standing to one end of the train, his luggage
shoveled off to one side as he let various students pass.

“Did you catch any of the World Cup?” Cedric said.

“No,” Harry said. “Didn't really get any news of it.”

Grinning, Cedric leaned in so Harry could hear better. “Well, I went there and I heard from a
very good friend of my Dad's that there's going to be something big at Hogwarts this
year.”

“What do you mean?”

“Try to keep this mum, but I don't think I'll have seen the last of Viktor Krum and
Bulgaria yet.”

A flock of attractive girls, Fifth Years by the look of them, walked by and took a moment's
pause to chat with Cedric. One or two cast a curious glance towards him, their eyes flicking
towards the lightning shaped scar on his forehead. Harry casually leaned against his luggage, doing
his best to pretend he wasn't inconspicuously looking them up and down. Cedric laughed and
smiled with them as a small crowd of Second Years annoyedly stamped behind the group of older
girls.

Harry coughed, catching one of the girl's attentions. The redhead glanced behind her and saw
that they were forming a bottleneck. Her eyes passed over him and Harry gave her a small smile.
Interestingly enough, she returned it without any pretense.

“We should get going.” The redhead nudged her friends and the flock bid Cedric good-bye as they
moved on, freeing the rest of the students to pass by.

Cedric's gaze lingered on the girls as they vanished out of sight and he smiled at Harry,
winking in the process. Harry commiserated with a simple raise of his eyebrows as there was finally
a small gap to navigate through the train.

“Well, I'll be seeing you, Harry,” Cedric shook his hand in goodbye.

“You too, Cedric.”

The tall Hufflepuff went first as he presumably left to find a compartment with his friends.
Harry followed after a minute, occasionally peeking his head into the windows of the different
compartments as he searched for Blaise and Tracey. He finally found them towards the back of train,
Blaise animatedly gesturing at Tracey.

“Harry, listen to this,” Blaise said before Harry could even stow his luggage.

“I have no doubts I'll be forced to.”

Tracey smiled at his sarcasm, scooting over to make room for him. Harry stowed his luggage in
the overhead racks, finally taking a seat as the train rolled on at full speed. He felt oddly at
home, relishing the plush seats and the sound of Blaise's chattering voice. Tracey playfully
contradicted him in parts of his story about some Bulgarian at the Quidditch World Cup, doing just
enough to temper his ever growing boastfulness.

“-but that's a whole other matter concerning the Veela. Harry knows all about that,
don't you?” Blaise grinned.

“Yes I do,” Harry glibly said, doing his best not to meet Tracey's incredulous gaze.

“Harry!” She exclaimed.

Harry shrugged, still laughing with Blaise. “I told you it was a lonely summer.”

She still shook her head, the raven ringlets flying around. “I still don't understand why we
can't visit. I had some time after our trip to Spain and if I had to sit another hour listening
to my Dad prattle on about who knows what and bills and decrees at the Ministry, I might have taken
my wand and bid all of you good-bye with a well placed Cutting Hex.”

“Cutter? I took you more of a hanger myself,” Blaise quipped.

Harry glared at him, pointedly refusing to bring up the insensitive nature of his joke. Blaise,
much to Harry's chagrin, disregarded it completely.

“Too soon?” Blaise weakly asked.

“No.” Tracey played it off with a slight laugh. “Not too soon.”

Yet, the way her lips turned downwards after she finished laughing and then nervous way she
rubbed her outer thigh told Harry that he was right in his assessment that Blaise shouldn't
have commented on the subject so cavalierly. Making a mental note to wring his friend's neck
about it later, Harry pushed onwards, trying to keep the mood light. He knew, more than a lot of
other people, the dangers of recessing into the darker parts of the mind.

“You probably couldn't come because Dudley would try to eat you.” Harry attempted a weak
joke.

“Well, he would definitely do Tracey over,” Blaise immediately responded, incurring genuine
laughs from Harry and Tracey.

Sometimes, Blaise did cross into the territory of being a reasonable friend.

The door slid open, interrupting their general clamor. Pansy Parkinson looked in, holding a
stack of envelopes in her hands. Harry looked at her appraisingly. Though she wasn't the
luckiest in attractiveness gene pool, her calm, if not slightly arrogant, demeanor conveyed a
confidence that was undeniable.

“Potter. Zabini. Davis. How could I ever guess that you would be in the same compartment?” Pansy
drawled as she rifled through the stack of envelopes.

“They have you stuck handing these out?” Tracey said sympathetically.

“Just for our year. Somehow, they avoided Goyle and picked me instead.”

“Where is Crabbe these days, anyways? Aren't they attached at the hip?” Blaise wondered
aloud.

“Sent home. Failure to achieve proper marks,” Pansy explained. “Here you three go.”

With a collective thanks, they gathered their respective letters as Pansy departed to presumably
deliver the rest. Emblazoned upon each of their letters was the bright green of Slytherin's
colors as well as their names. Harry dumbfoundedly stared at his, wondering why he was receiving a
letter on the train.

“What is this?” Harry asked, reflecting his thoughts.

Blaise looked up, a ridiculously quizzical expression etched onto his ebony features. “These are
our Track placements! You know, for such a great wizard, you are completely clueless
sometimes.”

“Oh!” Harry exclaimed, finally remembering filling out his form at the end of last year. Truth
be told, there were so many events in between and the long summer had done nothing to prompt him on
the matter.

“Like it matters,” Blaise continued, “Everyone knows that you're going to be placed in
Leadership. Hell, they've practically groomed you for it.”

*There might be more than a little truth in that*, Harry thought. Given the slow but
dawning realization that Snape had sent his bullies last year in one manner or another, Harry saw
it fit to believe that the headmaster was also capable of something less complicated like laying
out a path to the Leadership track.

“Well if they did, I've played right into hands. That's what I applied for,” Harry
sighed, not liking the upper hand Snape had on him.

“It's not the end of the world,” Tracey reminded him. “Being placed into Leadership
isn't anything to scoff at. They'll probably put me in General Battle.”

“Together forever.” Blaise placed a hand to his heart in mocking gesture.

“Together then?” Harry asked, raising his envelope.

In unison, they tore open their envelopes, spilling the contents within. Harry read his in a
rush, trying to find the exact words that would indicate his exact placement. He need not read far
for his placement was laid in exact terms in the second sentence.

*We would like to congratulate you for being accepted into the Magical Theory Track...*

The rest of the letter continued on in other formalities, highlighting his time tables as well
as potential job situations post-graduation as well as the benefits of said track. But Harry paid
no mind, laying the letter down on his lap in confusion. He wa so sure that he was going to be
placed in Leadership. It was a perfect fit, given his usual role as leader of the House in Battle
matches. What more, it was widely known that there were very few people selected for Magical
Theory, likely one per House. That could only mean...

“*LEADERSHIP?**”* Blaise shouted, standing up as the torn envelope went flying into
the air. “Who the bloody hell do they think they are?! I don't want to be in this. This looks
hard!”

Blaise looked accusingly at Harry as if he were the person to blame for this *tragedy*.

“What did you get then?” He quickly grabbed Harry's letter before the latter could even
react.

Skimming the page quickly, Blaise's already wild expression somehow morphed into more
confusion. “Magical Theory?! What does this mean? What does this mean for *us*?”

“Blaise, calm down!” Tracey urged. “We're still going to be in the same core classes.
We'll have a class or two different, *that**'**s all*.”

“But why am I -” Blaise jabbed his thumb into his chest to emphasize the point, “- in
Leadership? I would pick Malfoy over me.”

“Maybe they saw something in you?” Harry offered.

Blaise moaned, though Harry couldn't quite understand his adverse reaction. It was supposed
to be beneficial to be placed into a *better* Track. Not that everyone who was in General
Battle was a lemming, but Leadership was supposed to be the Track with more prestige.

“This is a good thing, Blaise,” Harry said.

“No it's not. It'll mean more work. More work will mean more homework. More homework
will mean less time to -”

“We get it, we get it,” Tracey interrupted. “You don't like to do work.”

Blaise huffed to himself, angrily staring at his letter as if he were willing the text to
scramble around and create a new letter that would state his acceptance into General Battle. Harry
turned to Tracey and asked her, “What'd you get, Tracey?”

A small smile crept onto her heart shaped face, her blue eyes shining happily. “I got what I
wanted: Medical.”

“Glad somebody did,” Blaise grumbled.

Harry shot Blaise a look to silence him, trying his best not to ruin Tracey's good news.

“Well, that's great!” Harry said genuinely. “I knew you'd get it.”

“I thought I had a chance,” Tracey admitted. “But I honestly didn't think it would happen
until I read the words on here.”

Harry looked at Blaise, imploring his friend to say something meaningful. Blaise gave another
huge sigh, not bothering to hide his displeasure. Despite this, he still said, “Good job,
Trace.”

“Thanks, Blaise. You know it won't be that bad, you know? You could use a little
responsibility for once.”

“This is all Snape,” Blaise continued. “He put me in here to punish me for telling you,
Harry.”

The worst part of it all was that it was *exactly* something Snape would do.

* * * * * *

They arrived at Hogwarts, discussing the potential ramifications of their Track placements as
well as other gossip related to their classmates to pass the time. Once or twice, someone would
peek within their compartment window, stealing a glance at Harry and then hurriedly rushing off.
Blaise, in better spirits as the day wore on, started to gesture obscenely at each tourist that
would come by. Harry did his best to ignore them...and Blaise.

The carriage brought them towards Hogwarts whilst the First Years piled into canoes that would
take them across the lake. For all of the changes at Hogwarts, Snape seemed to have kept the
traditional First Year trek for whatever demented reason. Perhaps he wanted to frighten them with a
long journey across the lake. Perhaps he just hated First Years. No matter the reason, Harry was
glad to finally be seated in the Great Hall amongst the rest of the students and not floating in a
dingy boat.

The familiar faces were all there, save for poor Crabbe. Daphne Greengrass sat across from
Harry, looking pleasantly happy and fair faced. Pansy, seated right beside her, was saying
something to Daphne while her eyes darted around furtively. Theodore Nott glumly tapped his wand
against the table, annoyed that the food wasn't present yet. Gregory Goyle stared blankly
ahead, his face still as a statue, not a thought expressed upon it. Millicent Bulstrode, a
veritable Goyle doppelganger, albeit female, was actually engaged in a conversation with Sadie
Baldock, the quiet but conniving girl who always seemed to be on the peripherals.

Last of all, Draco Malfoy sat by himself a small distance away from the rest of the Slytherins.
He looked unusual in that he wasn't framed by the two bulky towers of Crabbe and Goyle. Without
the pair of dunderheads by his side, Malfoy looked strangely small and thin. Still, his eyes held a
sharpness about them and when Harry met them, Malfoy gave him a small nod. Harry reciprocated it in
kind, appreciating the lack of insults usually thrown his direction.

“What's with Malfoy?” Harry asked Blaise, nudging his friend to catch his attention.

“Heard his Dad got into some trouble with Gringotts, something about shady business going on
with false accounts. The goblins don't take too kindly with any sort of that, so I heard that
they lost a *lot* of money,” Blaise answered.

“How much is a lot?”

“Enough to quiet Malfoy down. How much do you think that would be?”

*A considerable amount*.

Harry diverted his eyes away from the platinum blond Slytherin, focusing on the head table as
the last of the teachers filed in. There weren't a lot of turnovers from the previous year as
all the familiar faces were at the head table as well. Professor Slughorn, the bumbling Potions
master anchored one end of the table. Amusingly, Professor Moody sat right beside him, glumly
drinking from a flask, his magical blue eye whizzing around haphazardly. Professor McGonagall was
next in line, her strict face drawn with an ever increasing tightness. The Headmaster, of course,
sat in the middle, watching over the students like a herder would with his sheep.

On Snape's left sat Professor Trow, looking pale and sickly. Professor Flitwick, his head
barely visible above the table, chatted with Professor Lupin, who had apparently returned for
another year despite numerous complaints over his condition. Finally, a new person sat on the other
end of the table opposite from Professor Slughorn. This old man, and Harry could perceive that he
was old even from a distance judging from the leathery composition of his face and the general
droopiness of his body language, had shiny, white hair that framed his crown and fell to his
shoulders. A white beard connected his jaw line, but stopped just short of his chin. On his chin, a
goatee extended a few inches so that it covered his neck. All in all, the new teacher had a
cracked, leathery face engulfed with vibrant white hair. He was smiling, almost serenely, at
nothing in particular as he gazed upon the students.

Before Harry could ask Blaise or Tracey about the identity of the old man, Snape started
speaking.

“This year, we will have the opportunity to host an important event. I can not overemphasize the
magnitude of such a thing. No doubt some of you have heard the rumors of what might transpire this
year. Now that we are here, I can inform you that Hogwarts will be hosting a Tournament of
Champions.”

An excited chatter broke out like wildfire amongst the students. They were turning left and
right, whispering in a dull roar. Harry swiveled his head around, watching the chatter flow back
and forth. It seemed as if he were one of the few that didn't hear the rumors about this
Tournament of Champions. The students settled down as Snape raised his hand for silence.

“As host, it is our duty to represent the school and its values with honor. You will be on your
best behavior and any transgressions that might occur in the presence of our competitors will be
punished severely. Furthermore, all of you will act individually as acceptable hosts for the two
schools that will compete in this tournament. A lot of hard work, from our *friends* in the
Ministry and the faculty itself, has been applied to execute this tournament and it is your
responsibility to ensure that you and your fellow classmates will do everything you can to make
sure things run as smoothly as possible.”

Snape assessed the crowd's mood with a passing glance and Harry made sure to bring up his
Occlumency shields as the Headmaster's gaze washed over him. He didn't want to take any
chances given what he knew.

“The two schools competing in this tournament are Beauxbatons Academy from France and the
Durmstrang Institute of Bulgaria. Each of these schools boasts talented wizards and witches that
will test your mettle beyond the likes of what you have seen here. It is known that these two
schools rival only Hogwarts in fame and prestige. Though their main purpose is the tournament, this
is also a time to learn about other cultures and discover what it is like for students from another
country. It would behoove all of you to use this year as a unique opportunity to learn about life
on the continent.”

This time, the students didn't even bother containing their chatter. Excited voices rang
through the hall as friends and classmates conversed on the potential of meeting students from
Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. Blaise nudged Harry forcefully and said, “Harry, do you know what
I've heard about girls from France?”

Even Snape, more feared than admired, could not completely silence the crowd as he resumed his
speech.

“Some of you may have known this competition as the Triwizard Tournament. It is true that this
competition usually involves only one champion from each of the schools to compete in three
dangerous challenges, but after several meetings with the heads of each school, we have decided
that it is more beneficial to include more than one champion from each school. As such, each school
will have *thirteen* champions to represent their respective schools.”

The students roared to life with a cheer, some of the older students standing up excitedly at
the prospect of competing in this tournament. Already, some of the students were claiming that they
would *surely* be part of the thirteen champions to compete for Hogwarts. The excited clamor
was even present in the usually cool Slytherin table. Harry could see Marcus Flint boasting that he
would certainly be one of the champions, despite the fact that he had to return an extra year on
account of poor marks.

“Each winner will be awarded five hundred Galleons as well as eternal glory for Hogwarts and
yourself. This is not a matter to be taken lightly. Previous competitors have *died* in the
pursuit of becoming the champion. Despite the potential hazards, the Ministry has allowed us to
expand the minimum age of competitors to be...fourteen.”

Snape's eyes stopped their roaming and settled on Harry. Harry returned his stare in kind,
his Occlumency shields ready from a long summer of practice. Yet, he felt no intrusion into his
mind nor did he feel the usual probe of Legilimency. Instead, it seemed as if Snape was trying to
send him a message and it was one Harry understood with clarity.

“There are champions among you. Which of you will represent Hogwarts with dignity?”

* * * * * *

The Great Hall was as loud as Harry had ever heard it, despite the arrival of much needed food.
Everyone was talking about this Tournament of Champions and given Snape's last announcement,
there were more than a fair share of students who thought themselves worthy of representing
Hogwarts. Blaise, probably the last person to be excited about a school event, spoke with gliding
words about the potential ramifications of hosting this event.

“I thought it would be the Triwizard Tournament! Everyone knows about that. Snape would do
something like this and mix it up. Thirteen champions?! Hell, Harry, I reckon you *have* to be
one of them,” Blaise said.

“For once, I might have to agree with you,” Harry replied. “I don't think it's a
coincidence that the participating age has been lowered to fourteen.”

“Caught that one, did you? Daphne says that the tournament was discontinued after 1792 due to
that aforementioned death and Pansy claims that their was a huge fight in the Wizengamot about
resurrecting it, *especially* the age limit.”

Harry looked curiously at Blaise and said, “How'd they possibly get that through?”

“All three schools made a case that they would have several safeguards in place to prevent
anything unscrupulous,” said a third voice.

Draco Malfoy cut in with his batch of information, not even looking up from his kidney pie and
goblet. He continued eating, not interjecting with usual brash boastfulness. No doubt he was privy
to information considering his father's high ranking in the Wizengamot, but it was the manner
in which he informed them that was unsettling. It was unlike Malfoy to not brag on how he came upon
this information.

“Do you know anything else?” Tracey asked. Harry just noticed how quiet she was during
Snape's opening speech, contrasting Blaise's never ending blabber.

“I know that there will be considerable coverage on this tournament,” Draco said as he looked
up. “Though I suppose that there will be some focus on me given my father's role in allowing
this tournament.”

There it was. The pretentiousness couldn't fully go away.

Ignoring Malfoy, Blaise pressed forward. "Now, I heard from my Mum that there's some
strange process in picking the champion. Whatever happens, if it picks you, Harry, you have to
participate."

"I'm guessing you forgot about the *dying* part?" Harry said.

Blaise waved the concern off impatiently. "A student died once. You're Harry Potter!
They're not going to let you of all people die."

"He has a point," Tracey said.

Turning to her, Harry asked, "Are you saying I should do it? Will *you* do
it?"

Tracey nodded. "If I got picked to do it, why wouldn't I?"

*Why shouldn't I?* Harry thought. As he looked at the head table and watched Snape
converse with Moody, Harry had the sinking suspicion that he wouldn't be able to turn down the
opportunity if it was presented. Then again, turning down the opportunity to become one of the
Hogwarts champions would certainly thwart whatever plan Snape had. But what was the
headmaster's end game? Why was he doing this?

Frustrated by the questions that had been plaguing him all summer, Harry procured the coin that
would allow him to contact Hermione. Pointing the tip of his wand against the coin, Harry
concentrated and watched as the words appeared on the silver coin.

*Cave. Tonight.*

"You're going to meet her, aren't you?" Tracey asked, noticing that he was
stowing the coin in his pocket.

Harry cleared his throat, looking around to make sure no one was listening intently. "I
have a couple questions about tonight and Snape. Do you want to come with me?"

A strange look passed over Tracey's face as she pursed her lips and looked away. "No,
I'm okay for tonight. You two talk about whatever you talk about."

Harry had the distinct feeling that he had done or said something wrong but avoided speaking.
While Tracey didn't look particularly upset, she was excellent at masking her feelings. He had
seen the way she deflected questions about that harrowing night last year. What else could she be
holding back from him?

"Are you sure you don't want to go with me?" Harry asked one more time.

She gave him a small smile. "No. Just let me know what happens."

Finding no other reason to implore her more, Harry looked towards the Gryffindor table and
spotted the mildly tamed, bushy hair of Hermione. He kept his eyes on her, willing her to feel the
hotness of the coin and to check his message. Harry watched her until she slowly came around to
stare at him from the other side of the Great Hall. Hermione looked down and after a moment, Harry
felt the coin heat up in his pocket.

*Yes.*

* * * * * *

The cool dungeons of Hogwarts always provided a temporary respite from the loud clatter and
bustle of the upper hallways. In contrast, the lower levels were dark and noticeably cooler, the
walls clammy to the touch and the hues in dark blues and greens instead of the greys and oranges
that dominated everything above. Harry enjoyed the tranquil, if not morbid, atmosphere of the
dungeons. He felt at home in the dark instead of the constant din of noise above. As he waited for
Hermione, however, he could not stop the increasingly bothersome thoughts in his head.

All through the summer, he couldn't understand *why* Snape was doing it. Harry knew
that Snape meant to test him, but what was the purpose of all these tests and why did they so often
end up with himself in harm's way? Harry had originally vowed to fight against Snape and his
machinations, but he was plagued by the *why*. That was the question he had to have answered
first before he decided on his next move and the best person he thought of asking was Hermione.

A soft pitter patter of feet alerted Harry and he instinctively melded himself into an alcove,
knowing that there was a non-zero possibility that it was someone besides Hermione. Fortunately, he
could spot her outline against one of the few lamps in the dungeons and stepped out from the
shadows to greet her. As he said hello, Harry noted that, like before, she avoided meeting his eyes
and kept her return greeting short.

“Let's see if I can still remember this,” Hermione said as she walked up to the wall that
would lead to the cave. She tapped a few bricks in coordination and stepped back as the wall folded
into itself and revealed the muddy path inside. Harry followed her silently, perturbed by her lack
of willing conversation.

Mud turned into smooth stone as Harry stepped into the large atrium of the cave, the moonlight
refracting through the water and casting strange shadows within. Deep blue lights danced against
the walls, shining in Hermione's hair as she walked towards the solitary table and the two
accompanying chairs. She sat down, tossing her hair back and focusing on her stubby fingernails as
Harry approached the table and took a seat.

Letting a moment pass between them, Harry said, “So what do you think about this
tournament?”

Hermione answered, “I actually think it's a good idea.”

“You do?”

“It would be good to meet other schools. It would give us some insight on what their methods
are,” she answered.

“But the actual tournament - Snape's setting me up, isn't he?”

“It would seem that way,” she replied shortly.

Usually, she would pontificate on the subject and explain the rationale behind why she thought
so, but Hermione resumed her stodgy silence, steadfastly avoiding to meet his eyes. Up until this
point, it was just a curiosity for Harry, but he was starting to grow angry with her
dismissiveness. Had they not agreed to work together at the end of last year? Surely she
wouldn't have forgotten the events of last year so easily.

“What's wrong with you?” Harry came out and asked it rightforth.

She looked away again, staring up at the ceiling and the lake sloshing around above them. The
shimmering water cast strange ripples on her face and Hermione closed her eyes, breathing deeply as
she did so. There was a visible rise and fall of her chest and Harry impatiently waited as she
collected her thoughts.

“I need to tell you something,” she finally said.

Harry sighed, assuming that someone had said something to her about their relationship. “I
thought we were over the Slytherin and Gryffindor nonsense. I don't mean that we have to
announce our friendship to the whole world, but I would like to think we made enough progress last
year for this not to be so...so...awkward.”

Hermione quickly said, “No! No! It's not that. It's not that at all. Trust me, I have no
problems with...whatever this is.” She paused lamely. “Anyway, it's something different
entirely.”

“Then what is it?”

She looked away, her eyes first looking left then darting downwards towards her lap. The soft
features of her face glowed in the dancing lights of the moon through the water, but the concern
was easily read even in the dim light. Furthermore, her strange bout of silence was far from
normal. Hermione always had something to say, whether it was a critique or a comment. The fact that
she was searching for words scared Harry more than anything.

There was a certain unspoken agreement between them not to discuss what exactly they were. Were
they friends? Were they just learning from each other? Were they taking advantage of each
other's knowledge in specific areas? They never did decide to put words to their companionship
and Harry thought she was starting to doubt the nature of their relationship. After all, it had
been a long summer and given enough time, perhaps she wanted to form a friendship with someone who
she didn't have to meet in a secret cave.

"Not like you to be unable to find the words for something," Harry said, trying to
prompt her.

She didn't respond. Tucking her hair behind one ear, she looked off into the distance,
steadfastly refusing eye contact with him. Harry, on the other hand, kept his green eyes solely
fixed on her, willing Hermione to look at him.

At last, she spoke.

"There's a dream that comes and goes. I've been having it more frequently and it is
the same every time, without a difference. I normally wouldn't put much value in dreams.
Divination is a branch of magic that I don't particularly put much stock in. The thing is, I
don't think this is any form of Divination. I tried to ignore it first, pretending that it was
just a fleeting thought that kept returning. But the dream is so vivid and so *precise* every
time. Even then, I wouldn't have been bothered too much. After all, I've been through a
traumatic year and I'm bound to experience some form of depression, but it's also the
content of this dream that has me terrified."

Hermione licked her lips, still looking at some unquantifiable object in the mid distance. She
closed her eyes as if she were trying to recall this dream. Harry remained still, entranced by the
vulnerability in her voice and the depth of her explanation.

"There is a woman. I can only see her outline, never anything more. I can't see her
face or her shape, but I know that she's young. It's hard to describe, that sense of
knowing, but it's there. She's reaching for something she'll never have and then she
opens her mouth. I can still remember her scream, tearing my insides apart and filling my head
until I hear the echoes even when I'm awake. But it's not her scream that bothers me.
It's not the fact that this dream has been occurring more frequently that bothers me. It's
what she says that's been haunting me. It's only one word and it doesn't change. She
says it with such emotion . . . such fear.”

Hermione finally turned to him, haunted brown eyes asking questions of Harry. He gulped, knowing
exactly what dream she spoke of. In this moment, he could see that she was unsettled and fearful of
the unknown - this strange dream that could no longer be dismissed as an anomalous continuance.

“Do you know this dream I speak of?”

In a voice barely above a whisper, at a decibel that would have made it difficult to hear if it
were not for the fact that the only noise was gentle swish of the lake above them, Harry answered
truthfully.

“Yes.”

* * * * * * * *

“Has there been any update?”

“None. The lines and whispers have become less frequent.”

“This is quite unlike him. I would say that it is incredibly far-fetched to think that he would
not surface by now, but this is a form of him I don't particularly understand.”

“Neither do I. What more, I can't say with any confidence that I know what his next move
is.”

“We will have to remain on guard for any changes in the tide. We can not suffer a setback while
we are so close to unlocking the boy's potential.”

“I will keep my ears and eyes open, but I confess that I don't have high hopes.”

“When have we ever? On more pertinent matters, I have lifted the Imperio curse off that
abominable, fat Muggle. Suffice to say, the boy noticed the change of manner in him, but I
don't think he noticed why.”

“It was past time we did that. It has never been one of my favorite choices for him.”

“It has served its purpose. The less connections he has, the more he will be able to make a
rational and objective decision when the time comes. We both agreed that we would only be able to
stunt his emotional growth for so long.”

“If you can call it that. You certainly do have a way for evasively and justifiably describing
our decisions.”

“Decisions they are. We have made them and we will have to live with the consequences, foreseen
and unforeseen. I have also done my best to withdraw any leftover imaging from the Hufflepuff
boy's head.”

“I warned you from the beginning that magic of the mind is a dangerous and unwieldy creature.
Are you sure that the Hufflepuff boy is no longer plagued by those branching thoughts?”

“I can not say *for sure*. I withdrew any implants in his mind that I could and also did my
best to repair the festering malice within, but only time will tell if he is fully recovered. I
imagine that the Hufflepuff will do his best to stay out of Potter's way now that he has
returned to some form of normalcy.”

“Not so long ago, you wished for the boy to kill him.”

“An act still at the top of my agenda. Yet, I fear that if he did not make his choice then, what
will drive him to do so? Do not think you are blameless of this. After all, whose idea was it to
potentially threaten something close to him in order to spur his motivations?”

“It was an *idea* -”

“And you have many *great ideas*. That does not change the fact that you knew and you were
close to finding the key to unleashing that constrained darkness within.”

“It does not take a great wizard to realize that. After all, you would have done the same for
the one you loved.”

“I would have done more.”

“And so you know it is not an easy thing to predict or plan. If the boy does have to kill, it
will be his moment and on his terms. You can not force it. Do you not remember your first
kill?”

“I do.”

“Then you know that it is a difficult, almost insurmountable, thing to do.”

“And he will do it. One way or another, before this ends, he will have to kill.”

“In time. All I can ask for is time.”

“A commodity we might not have. We are wandering in the dark, looking for the Dark Lord and
finding nothing but our hands grasping empty air.”

“He will strike soon. He might have changed, but he cannot hide forever.”

“Will we be ready? Will the boy be ready?”

“I...can not say for certain.”

*****

**A/N: Welcome back to another year at Hogwarts Battle School. I am pleased to post chapters
again and I hope you all have forgiven me for my slight hiatus. Except more regular updates in
another exciting year and I hope to hear from you. Thank you for following this story and
supporting it and I hope you enjoy.**

**Projected update time: 24 days**
 Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7
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28. The Answer Is In The Question
---------------------------------



Harry didn't sleep well that night, but it wasn't because of dreams or nightmares. He
was plagued by Hermione's voice, haunting and horrified, recanting the reason for her sudden
avoidance of him. To her credit, she calmly explained her theories behind this recurring dream and
highlighted one in particular. Given the fact that she wasn't a believer of Divination or any
sort of ethereal connection, the most logical conclusion was their increased use of Legilimency
within the past year.

“Think about it, Harry. Why else would we have a shared dream? It's not an instance that
occurs with any regularity, despite what the tea leaves might have to say about it. The fact that
it's your name that this woman yells makes it all the more reason to think that our continued
use of Legilimency on each other might have created a link for a shared dream. Have you had this
dream before?”

“No. I started having them this summer.”

That fact stumped Hermione. If they had no contact in the summer, why would they both have the
same dream? Furthermore, why did the dream keep returning and what did it mean? Harry had a
sneaking suspicion as to the identity of the woman who screamed his name, but he didn't want to
divulge it in front of Hermione, largely to avoid embarrassment. Most likely, Hermione already had
drawn some conclusions as to who it was as well.

When he awoke the next morning, scarcely with three hours of sleep, it was no surprise that he
was sluggish in his movements. While the rest of his Slytherin counterparts were no faster,
especially Malfoy who was still asleep in his four-poster bed, Harry was particularly keen to let
others in front of him in order to gain just a precious extra minute of sleep. Unfortunately,
Blaise was a morning person.

“Harry, wake up. Wake up!” Blaise shouted through the drapes. “I want to have a decent meal.
This schedule is brutal.”

“Go ahead without me,” Harry said, his voice muffled under a pillow.

“Late night with Granger?”

Harry flipped the pillow off his head and yanked his curtains back, furtively looking around to
see if anyone had heard.

“Don't say that so loudly,” Harry hissed.

“I thought that wasn't a problem anymore?” Blaise asked in confusion.

“It's not...just let me figure things out first.”

“So it *was* a late night with Granger?!” The grin returned to Blaise's face.

“Go to breakfast,” Harry said, shoving him in the shoulder and annoyed at his presumptions.

Blaise left, his laughing voice echoing as the rest of the Slytherins awoke. Goyle and Nott
stumbled towards the lavatory while Harry flopped back into bed, rubbing his eyelids. Fatigue was
still in control of his body, but it would be no use to miss the first day of classes given that
his first class of the day was his Magical Theory course with the new professor. Sleep threatened
to overtake him, but a hacking cough banished any thoughts of a lie in.

Harry peeked through the curtains to witness Malfoy lean over the edge of his bed, a rough cough
rattling his body. There was a closed bottle on his bedside table and Malfoy twisted the cap off
and downed the contents quickly. His body immediately relaxed and the blond boy looked up to see
Harry watching him through the curtains.

“Never seen a cold before, Potter?”

“I thought you were infallible?” Harry couldn't help but take a shot at him.

“I think the only one that thinks that here would be you,” Malfoy responded before swinging his
legs out of bed and heading towards the lavatory.

It was a strangely deprecating comment that was unlike him. Perhaps the potential loss of his
family fortune hurt Malfoy more than Harry could know. After all, if there was no prestige behind
the Malfoy name, what else could he brag about? It was just another thing to think about in what
was promising to be a stressful year. Hermione's shared dream was still his biggest concern and
he didn't want to have to worry about a different Malfoy on top of it. Deciding to wait until
the rest of the guys were finished with their showers, Harry allowed himself a few extra minutes of
rest and resolved to go straight to Magical Theory, hair askew and stomach empty.

Whereas most classes were held in the primary corridors, save for Potions, Magical Theory was
being held in a tower adjacent to the Astronomy Tower. Harry had never been to this particular part
of the castle despite all his years living there. Fortunately, the staircase didn't seem too
imposing when he arrived and he ascended them without complaint despite the growling in his
abdomen. There was a singular wooden door at the top and three other people waiting outside of
it.

Hermione was present if there was ever a doubt. More surprising was the inclusion of Susan
Bones. While Harry had never doubted her intelligence, he didn't particularly think of her as
the smartest of the Hufflepuffs. Ernie MacMillan certainly boasted enough that he was and Harry
thought Finch-Fletchley showed some cunning in his planning last year. Still, there were a variety
of factors that would have Susan placed in Magical Theory and she would be far more bearable than
some of the other people from her House. Last in their tiny group was Terry Boot of Ravenclaw, a
slightly less insufferable version of Hermione. His aloofness helped alleviate the general
condescension that came from him.

“Potter?” Terry asked in surprise, pushing his thick, black frame glasses up his nose. “I
thought you would be in Leadership.”

“You're not the only one,” Harry said. “They deemed to place me here.”

“I suppose they would after that trick of yours in the forest. Tell me, have you been able to
replicate it?”

“I have.”

“I don't suppose you'd be open to sharing how you did it. I've actually looked into
some form of spell creation myself. I've read numerous scrolls on the topic, but I haven't
been able to achieve that same breakthrough. If you'd just like to sit down one night so we
could discuss it, that would be really beneficial for my work.” Terry actually opened his side
slung knapsack and waved a few scrolls in Harry's face.

“I think I'll keep that to myself for now,” Harry said, leaning away from the Ravenclaw.

Terry frowned. “What good is it if you're going to keep that kind of thing to yourself?”

“Maybe so people like you won't steal his ideas,” Hermione casually suggested.

Terry's face contorted into an ugly scowl. “I'm not going to *steal* his ideas.
It's Potter's academic prerogative to share new innovations like his spell. It doesn't
even have a name!”

“It has a name and it's mine to keep,” Harry said.

“Nothing quite as exhilarating as a children's argument,” said an unknown voice.

The old man approached with an even gait, his face nearly hidden by a well maintained white
mane. He was smiling at the rest of them, his arms swinging by his sides as he approached the
door.

“We're not children,” Terry rebutted.

“Everyone's a child to me,” the new teacher responded.

He opened the wooden door with a soft push of his open palm and a strong breeze whipped his
robes around. The old man walked inside without another word and Harry wondered if all teachers in
Hogwarts preferred such a dramatic entrance. It certainly enhanced the experience. Terry quickly
stepped inside, followed by Susan. Harry and Hermione were last, entering the sunlit room and
inspecting their new classroom.

Open crescent windows explained the strong gusts of air that would blow through the room as well
as the abundance of natural light. The area was small, roughly ten by ten meters shaped in a half
moon. In the middle was a solitary chair surrounded by four other chairs with no desks. There
wasn't a chalkboard or a projector or anything else that might have required writing materials.
There were simply five chairs in the room.

“Take a seat,” said the teacher.

The four students complied and waited patiently as this yet unnamed teacher took his time to
settle. He looked at each of them in the eye and Harry couldn't help but bring up his
Occlumency shields, trying to detect a potential intrusion. It was just a force of habit as this
new teacher had given no evidence that he would try and perform passive Legilimency, but at this
point, Harry did it automatically.

“Do you know who I am?” asked the old man.

“Nicolas Flamel,” Hermione confidently answered.

“Nicolas Flamel,” Terry echoed not a second after.

“Two out of four isn't bad,” Flamel mused. “I would have thought that I would have made more
of a name of myself after all these years but centuries are a long time.”

*Centuries*? Harry asked himself, racking his brain to see if he could remember who Nicolas
Flamel actually was. The name rung a distant bell in his mind, but he couldn't grasp why he was
famous.

“The Sorcerer's Stone,” Susan whispered, nodding to herself. She must have been using the
same thought process as Harry.

“My most famous creation but far from my only one,” Flamel said. He smiled kindly at them,
leathery cracks showing on his apparently ancient face. He crossed his arms in front of him,
leaning back so that only two legs of his chair remained on the ground, yet Flamel was comfortably
balanced this way.

The lightbulb finally clicked in Harry's head as put Flamel's face to the Frog Card that
he owned. Flamel was a renowned alchemist who was responsible for a number of famous innovations
including the notorious Sorcerer's Stone, the Elixir of Life. Why he was teaching at Hogwarts
was beyond Harry's comprehension.

"Professor Snape has requested my presence here for a few years to hopefully impart you
with some of my knowledge," Flamel said.

Harry tried not to show any emotion, but he was perturbed that Flamel answered his mental
question. Perhaps it was a coincidence as Harry felt no intrusion in his Occlumency shields.

"I'm afraid I don't have a lot to offer you in terms of advancing your dueling
skills. After so many years on this earth, I tend to avoid inciting conflict amongst wizards. But I
can hopefully unlock some of your questions concerning the nature of magic. This *class* will
be unlike your others. I have no lesson plan. There are no tests or graded scrolls. You are here to
acquire knowledge. I only request one thing from each of you: a project to be completed by the end
of the semester."

"Are there any parameters to the project?" Hermione asked.

Flamel shook his head. "No. You set the terms for your success and try to achieve it. I
only ask that you attempt to complete it."

Hermione was visibly annoyed and Harry had to smile to himself. He wondered what she thought
about a class that had no grades. How else would she be able to demonstrably prove that she was
better?

Still balancing his chair on two legs, Flamel said, "So tell me, what is your favorite
spell?"

“*Ignem*,” Terry answered.

It was a flashy spell, able to conjure fireballs that could be used as projectiles. Yet, they
weren't that helpful as the fire from the spell was conjured via magic and didn't hold the
proper original source. As such, even if the spell hit a person, it wouldn't actually cause any
burn damages. It was simply a useful percussion spell though it did have its uses for theatrical
purposes.

“An interesting spell to call your favorite. Why is that so?” Flamel asked.

“It's an advanced spell used to illuminate surroundings as well as provide concussive
attacks that have the added effect of inciting fear given the fire based nature,” Terry
replied.

“Are you aware that it doesn't actually cause any burns?”

Terry cleared his throat. “Well, yes, but that's not the point. The fire is there to
distract them. It's not a knockdown spell. It's just my favorite spell.”

“So you're more interested in the look of the spell rather than its effectiveness?”

“It has a useful purpose. I use it all the time in duels to mix up my attacks.”

“And why wouldn't you use *Inflamare*? Surely that is a similar spell that would
provide the same effect but also have the added bonus of causing fire burns.”

“It takes a lot more energy to produce. It's not as useful,” Terry rebutted, growing
agitated.

“And how much energy does it take exactly?”

“A considerable amount!”

“But how much?” Flamel slammed his chair down so it was finally seated on all four legs, his
previously benign demeanor evaporating. It was hard to believe that he was a man older than some
trees at this moment, his eyes alight and the white beard seemingly bristling as he spoke.

“How much magic does it take to produce that spell, Terry?” Flamel repeated.

“I - I don't know.” Terry's eyes flitted between Harry and Hermione, pleading for help.
“More than it takes to produce *Ignem*! If I had to guess, a magnitude between two or three
times greater, but I'm not entirely sure. How are we supposed to know that?!”

Flamel opened his hand so his palm was facing upwards. With a quick flex of his fingers, he
produced a ball of fire, floating not two or three inches off his hand. The fire was swirling in a
perfect sphere, glowing as bright as the sun shining into the open room. Terry scooted back, his
chair harshly scraping against the concrete floor.

“How much magic does it take, Terry?” Flamel asked once more, his face glowing orange as a
backdrop against the fire.

The fire was mesmerizing, a perfect orange ball that held a strange stillness about it. Flamel
might have been centuries old, but his hand was steady as a floating broomstick, his four fingers
stuck closely together while his thumb stretched out at a forty-five degree angle.

“It's relative,” Hermione answered. “The amount of magic it takes is relative to the
wizard.”

She was also mesmerized by the ball of fire, her eyes never leaving it until Flamel closed his
hand into a fist, extinguishing the fireball. Flamel might have entered the room with a congenial
expression and demeanor, but his face was now as still as a statue, concrete and unmoving as he
fixed his glance on Hermione.

“Others have told me you have a penchant for speaking out of turn, Hermione,” Flamel said.

“You said this wasn't going to be a normal class. I assumed that I wouldn't need to
raise my hand to answer a question.” She said all of this quickly, managing to fit both of the
sentences in one breath.

“And what is your favorite spell?” Flamel countered, unrelenting in his pursuit for answers.

“I don't have one. I use the spell appropriate for the situation,” Hermione replied.

“An answer befitting of a passive learner.”

As Harry had gotten to know Hermione better in the previous year, he noticed that it was
difficult to provoke a reaction out of her. Short of leaning on some obvious emotional pillars,
Harry found it useless to try and incur any sort of anger from her. More noticeably, she usually
refused to rise to the bait when other students tried to taunt her. Yet, no one ever questioned her
intellect for it was near unmatchable among her peers.

Under Flamel's criticism, Hermione visibly bristled with anger. It was subtle and almost
imperceptible, uncatchable if Harry wasn't paying attention. Her nostrils flared, the scowl
quickly emerging on her round face. She sat up a little straighter, her chin raising in defiance.
That steely determination Harry often witnessed returned with renewed vigor as she glared at
Flamel.

“I am *not* a passive learner,” she said in a monotone voice.

“Why of course you are. Why else would you not claim to have a favorite spell? I am not saying
you have a spell that you always use, but to deny that you have a preference for a favorite spell
is disingenuous at best. A favorite spell is comforting, easy, able to be spoken at a moment's
notice. It is a reflex, an automatic shelter in times of worry. To say you have no favorite spell
is ignoring an important part of understanding magic.”

Flamel leaned forward, his eyes piercing and looking nothing at all like a man who had lived a
few centuries. Every weathered line on his face hardened until it looked like he was carved out of
stone.

“Introspection, Hermione. You must acknowledge yourself if you ever want to become more than
just a great knower of facts.”

Harry expected Hermione to rise to the challenge, accept Flamel's bait, and counter with an
intellectual argument of her own. Instead, she soured and the usual impertinence fell from her
face. She sat quietly, neither looking down nor straight ahead. Instead, she fell into the awkward
middle distance as she refused to look at Flamel or anyone else in his stead.

The eccentric teacher cleared his throat, spinning the four legged chair on one leg to face
Susan. The Hufflepuff girl startled, not expecting such a quick pivot.

Now, with a softer voice, Flamel asked, “And you, Susan Bones? Do you have a favorite
spell?”

In a quiet voice that befit her demure demeanor, Susan answered, “*Curaret Volnus.*”

Flamel's eyebrows, bushy and white, raised slightly, his first sign of surprise. “A minor
healing spell? No doubt to cure the wounds that often occur whilst attending this school. Useful,
easy to learn, and valuable in many different forms. An excellent answer, Susan.”

The redhead's shoulders dropped in relief as she avoided any interrogation from Flamel.
Harry could visibly see perspiration on Susan's forehead and wondered what he looked like. He
certainly didn't feel panicked or terrified. Instead, he was curious, wondering why Flamel
would teach a class, if you could even call it *teaching*, this way.

Predictably, Flamel turned to him, the histrionics and theater dialing down as he simply spun
his chair to face Harry. Whereas Flamel had worn different expressions for each student -
intimidating for Terry, challenging for Hermione, and respectful for Susan - Flamel had no such
expression as he looked at Harry. There was a passivity, an uncomfortable calmness.

“Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived. The Bringer of Lightning. I hope your reputation precedes
you.”

Clearing his throat, Harry replied, “*Fulminare*.”

Nicolas Flamel smiled, revealing a set of pearly white teeth that nearly matched his winter coat
of a beard. His eyes were glittering and Harry swore he saw a flash of lightning in Flamel's
eyes. Why there was such a large grin on Flamel's face, Harry couldn't understand, but he
assumed that his answer must have pleased him in some form. In truth, it was his favorite spell. It
would be hard not to be proud of a spell he created.

“Very good, Harry. I see I have at least one student that has played this game before.”

* * * * * *

Tracey Davis was early, sitting in the front row like Harry would have probably done had he been
in the class. Instead, Tracey found herself sitting with a smatter of different people spread from
each House. Lavender Brown had somehow managed to find herself in Medical despite a rather poor
understanding of basic Potions. So too was Seamus Finnigan, ending the Gryffindor representation in
this class. Seated in the back were a trio of Ravenclaws. Mandy Brocklehurst, Su Li, and Padma
Patil were clustered together, whispering to each other in low tones before Madame Pomfrey arrived.
There were two Hufflepuffs, Hannah Abbott and Leanne Whittaker. Tracey had never made extensive
acquaintance with either of them.

That left Tracey as the lone Slytherin representative.

*I shouldn**'**t be surprised that I**'**m the only one in
Medical. After all, why would a Slytherin want to help others?*

Yet, there she was, seated in the front, her nerves already frayed. *I wish Harry or Blaise
were here*, she thought, willing herself to calm down. *It**'**s just a class.
They put you in here with the other Houses because we all want to be in Medical*.

In the front of the room was an island counter, solid on three sides and hollow on the other.
Presumably, there were medical supplies within the counter that Pomfrey would use for
demonstrations and instruction. At the top of the table, there was a single potion. It was clear
and odorless, the viscosity minimal from even a distance. It would have been difficult to separate
it from a glass of water.

The door that led to the Infirmary opened and Madame Pomfrey entered with her usual air of
aplomb. The adjoining room that they were having class in was small and cramped despite the minimal
class size. Madame Pomfrey stepped up to the island, her stricken gaze appraising her students.

“This is -” Madame Pomfrey started, but she never got the opportunity to finish.

The door to the classroom opened noisily, creaking on its hinges as one last student
entered.

Draco Malfoy bundled noisily in, his eyes flitting between an irritated Madame Pomfrey and the
empty seat beside Tracey. Even the blond Slytherin had the grace to know when he was interrupting
and Madame Pomfrey was one of the few adults that he deferred to given that she was responsible for
restoring him after Battle matches.

“I apologize,” Malfoy said clearly, hurrying to his seat and gracefully sitting down next to
Tracey.

“I'm sure,” Pomfrey said through tight lips.

Starting again, Pomfrey said, “You may think that because we're not trying to come up with
several different ways to kill each other that this class isn't as important. You may think
that just because you don't have Snape or Moody for a teacher that I won't be hard on you.
You may think that this was the easiest of the Tracks. *You may think* a lot of things.”

She strode out from behind the island table, intimidating despite her small stature. Her hands
were behind her back, shrouded veil not present on top of her head. On the front of her white robes
was a red cross, as crimson as blood. Walking through the aisles, Pomfrey eyed each one of them
individually, saving a particularly disdainful look for Malfoy.

“What is the potion on the front table?” Pomfrey asked the class.

Of course, there were indicators of what type of potion it could be just by looking at it.
*Clear potions are usually made out of non-root material as root materials tend to add color and
viscosity to a potion. The lack of movement also points towards it being a non-timed position in
that it does not have to be consumed or applied within a certain time frame. The lack of a distinct
odor is also telling in that Bone Powder is almost always used to mask a smell.* Tracey
eliminated several possibilities as she continued to analyze the potion.

Still, there were far more ambiguities that was hard to decide based upon look. Without an
inkling of any ingredients, Tracey found it difficult to even hazard a guess at what the particular
potion at the front of the table was. Judging by the lack of response from the small class, they
didn't know either.

“Anyone?” Madame Pomfrey asked. “Can anyone tell me what the potion is?”

Mandy Brocklehurst dared to speak up. “Madame, I don't think we're going to be able to
tell what the potion is without at least an ingredient or...”

“And do you think that will matter when a patient's life is on the line?” Pomfrey snapped.
“You have to make a split second decision on whether or not that potion is useful to you. I
don't expect you to catalog every single potion in creation, though that would be an enormously
useful skill to have, but you have to make a judgement. Right or wrong, you can not wait as you do
not have the luxury of time. You have to live with your decision, right or wrong. You have to
*make* a decision, most of all.”

Pomfrey waved her wand and the potion floated towards Mandy. The Ravenclaw girl looked nervously
at Pomfrey, acutely aware that she was being put on the spotlight. She looked towards her friends,
pleading for help, but they were no more closer to finding out the purpose of the potion than she
was.

“What is this potion, Ms. Brocklehurst?” Pomfrey asked.

Mandy leaned forward, sniffing to find any lingering aroma that might lead her to a clue as to
what the potion was. She carefully picked up the vial, swishing it around. Tracey discovered that
her guess was correct as the potion remained clear despite the turbulence. That at least eliminated
any sort of herbal types. Since most potions used at least some type of root as a base, Tracey
narrowed the options down to potions that used something non-organic as a base instead. Typically,
types of fine powder and rare material such as dissolvable emeralds were needed. *If I could just
get another clue, I might be able to at least figure out if it**'**s consumable or
applicable,* Tracey thought.

“It's not root based in nature.” Mandy went for the easy explanation. “Um, that rules out
poisons, right?”

“Does Slughorn teach you nothing? What is the Witcher's Poison made out of?” Pomfrey
rebutted.

“Essence of slug...” Mandy's face fell.

“Your patient is dead,” Pomfrey swished her wand and a giant red “X” appeared on Mandy's
desk.

Tracey scrambled for another idea, remembering that there was a variety of organic material that
could still be used to make a clear potion. She needed another clue. Another indicator of what this
potion could be. *Clear. Smooth. Odorless.* *That means it**'**s not a salve.
It could be a smooth ointment, but surely it has to be a consumable potion of some sort.*

“Li, what is this potion?!” Pomfrey barked, pacing around the classroom.

Su Li of Ravenclaw sat straight up, brushing her thick black hair behind her ear. Her oriental
features squinched into a thoughtful expression as she contemplated an answer. Tracey glanced at
Draco, who was cocking his head as he stared at the potion.

Su Li finally answered, “It is a Weightless Potion. Bone powder to counteract the odor of the
eggshells of a Gryffin in combination with three turns of coarse Egyptian sand and a mixture of
acid solvents to clear up the potion.”

She threw the Quaffle all the way across the pitch, going for it all as she explained not only
the intent of the potion but also the ingredients and creation. She said this all rapidly, trying
to force the answer onto Pomfrey. By the look on her face, she was rather confident.

“Your patient is still dead, not an inch off the ground.” Pomfrey waved her wand and a similar
red “X” appeared on Su Li's desk.

And down the line she went, refuting everyone's answers with scathing remarks, the ominous
red “X” slashed onto everyone's desks until there were just two Slytherins left to interrogate.
Judging by the patten Pomfrey was continuing on, Tracey realized that she would be next to face the
wrath of the previously demure, but only slightly strict, Healer.

“Davis,” Pomfrey said in an exasperated voice. “Perhaps Slytherin would kindly redeem Hogwarts.
What is this potion?”

Again, no other clues or help from the Healer. Tracey spared a glance towards Draco, who up to
now had been silent. He looked back at her expectantly, his eyes flitting between Pomfrey and her.
Tracey saw him mouth something - *root* maybe - but she couldn't deduce the word and with
Pomfrey watching them like a hawk, she decided not to chance a second glance at Draco.

“It's uh...”

Tracey faltered, just as the others before her did, as she desperately sought for an answer to
such a simple question. The Slytherin girl knew Pomfrey was setting them up to fail. It was near
impossible to know the exact kind of potion it was without any other clues besides a cursory glance
and shake. Perhaps that was the point. Perhaps it was a test of simplicity from the Healer. Fearing
that the answer was as dumb as it sounded, Tracey nonetheless pressed forward.

“It's water,” she said.

Tracey could feel Mandy Brocklehurst's incredulous gaze piercing into the back of her head
as well as recognizing Seamus Finnigan's dumbfounded expression from the corner of her eyes. As
soon as the words came out of her mouth, Tracey instantly regretted it. The bemused expression on
Pomfrey's face told Tracey all she needed to know.

“No.” Pomfrey snorted in derision. “But thank you for humoring me.”

Tracey flushed red, the blush showing up on her newly tanned skin as she watched Pomfrey placed
the dreaded red marker on her desk as well. So it was, eight out of nine desks bearing the red “X”
as Pomfrey descended upon her last victim.

“Mr. Malfoy. You are the last hope for the Fourth Years of Hogwarts. What is this potion?” There
was a smug yet disappointed tone in the way Pomfrey spoke as she looked down at the blond haired
Slytherin.

Draco calmly looked at the potion, only glancing once towards Pomfrey for confirmation.

“It is the Widower's Potion. Root of *cassava*, grinded into a fine grain so that the
solvent made out of liquified bone powder mixes with distilled water to produce a clear and smooth
liquid. But you can tell from the calcified remains here -” Draco pointed at a barely visible trace
of bone powder from where Mandy had swished the container “-that the potion is actually thick once
consumed. It only appears to be smooth.”

He said it all as if he were reciting from a book, such was his candid demeanor. Tracey
struggled to keep her surprise in check. In the past, there would have been a smarmy comment or a
petulant attitude, but Draco said it all like he was Hermione Granger.

“And what does the Widower's Potion do, Mr. Malfoy?” Pomfrey was apparently not the type to
pretend to be disappointed as she appraised Draco positively.

“It's a poison. It kills the recipient of the potion. It's known as the Widower's
Potion because it is commonly used by depressed widower's and carries the effect of an almost
painless death.”

Pomfrey nodded at every point, satisfaction written all over her face. She turned towards the
class and gestured towards Draco.

“And Mr. Malfoy's patient has lived.” Pomfrey turned towards the board at the front of the
classroom and placed everyone's names on a column on the right. Then, she placed Malfoy's
name as the sole inhabitant of a column on the left.

“As of now, all of you are failing and Mr. Malfoy is the only one that is passing. Stay on the
column on the right for too long and I will send you to General Battle. I do not have the time nor
the allowance to have students that are not willing to take this class as failing does not mean
just another grade. There are *dire* consequences to failing. I will not send a student into
the field that will potentially endanger the lives of wizards, witches, and Muggles alike. I
suggest you brush up on your potions because we will be doing this *again* and *again*
until there are no more people on the column on the right, whether it be through passing or
shipping you off to General Battle. Is that understood?”

The class was too shocked to answer in anything but the affirmative as Pomfrey left the room as
quickly as she came. It was only then that Tracey realized there were still forty minutes left in
the class. It seemed like Pomfrey taught in a much different manner than the rest of her teachers,
bar Snape. Turning towards Draco, Tracey looked at him with her blue eyes, trying to decide whether
it was all an act or not.

“Surprised?” Draco asked as he put his textbooks into his burlap sack.

“You could say that. You almost sounded like Granger there for a moment.”

“Please don't compare me with that Mudblood,” Draco said. “It would have been embarrassing
to Slytherin if we were all to fail.”

“That much is true. So, I suppose we're going to be partners then,” Tracey said.

Draco raised his eyebrows at her. “Who said anything about partners?”

“I need help. You have answers. Everyone here hates you for being on the only one that's
succeeding. You know that Hufflepuffs aren't beyond cheating and that Ravenclaws hate being
dumber than someone else at something. Do I need to say any more about Gryffindors? I'm the
only friend you have here, Draco,” Tracey explained, taking a leaf out of Harry's book and
drawing out the situation in a manner in which he could easily understand.

“*Friend*?” Draco snorted. “We'll see about that.”

Tracey didn't answer, knowing that there was nothing else she could say to convince him. His
reluctance didn't surprise her. Harry had gone out of his way to shame Draco several times last
year and such a grudge could carry, especially for someone as proud as Malfoy. She could hold her
own when it came to Potions and other such matters, but clearly, Draco had a talent which, until
now, he had kept quiet about. As the last students left, Draco nodded his head at her.

“And what's Potter going to say?” Draco smirked at her, trying to test her resolve.

Tracey thought of Harry's...arrangement...with Granger and knew that he couldn't
possibly disapprove when it came to making unlikely alliances. What was she to prove anyway?

“He'll understand,” she answered.

Draco merely chuckled and even that sounded skeptical. Still, he replied, “I'll help you,
but you're not going to be my partner.”

“What have you got to lose?”

Draco met her gaze, his grey eyes looking as cold as ever.

“Nothing, as you probably already know.”

* * * * * * * *

Harry sought a professor he did not normally talk to outside of class. While Creatures was by
far the class that interested him the least, Professor Lupin did have strike a chord with that
particular speech of his during the latter part of the year. It was after hours and Harry was
walking in the dimly lit halls of Hogwarts, albeit with his wand already in his hand lest there be
a repeat of last year.

Still, his mind was clouded with questions about Flamel's lessons, or rather, lack of
distinctive lessons. They had spent the rest of the period answering strange inane questions -
*what do you think is the most useless spell -* and going back and forth without a single
constructive conversation about the nature of actual magic. After all, wasn't that what the
class was *supposed* to be about? Flamel, despite his reputation as an acclaimed alchemist,
seemed to be wearing the hundreds of years on his sleeve.

It frustrated Harry to no end that he had exited the windy tower with nothing more than a
confused expression that was only out rivaled by Hermione's enraged one. She and the professor
had butted heads several times during class and, truth be told, Harry thought that Flamel must have
been winding her up on purpose - *you**'**re not that smart are you, Granger* -
and tormented her to an unfair degree. Harry didn't even bother trying to speak to her as they
left earlier, knowing he would only be on the receiving end of a murderous rant.

He was supposed to meet Granger later in the week, but he wanted some information from Professor
Lupin, should the werewolf grant it. Per usual, Harry found him in his office, already grading
papers and scrolls. Lupin looked up as Harry entered and he found himself wondering if an acute
hearing sense was one of the benefits of being a werewolf.

“Professor.” Harry inclined his head as he approached the professor's desk. “I had a few
questions I wanted to ask you.”

“Do you?” Lupin smiled that feral grin of his. “You never seem that attentive in class.”

“I find Creatures...” Harry grasped for an acceptable phrase.

“Boring?” Lupin finished. “It's okay. It's not for everyone.”

*Then why do we study it?* Harry wanted to ask, but he decided to bite his tongue. There
was no using poking the werewolf if he wanted something from Lupin.

“To be honest, it's not about Creatures,” Harry said.

“Something outside of my class?” Lupin put his marking pen down and regarded Harry carefully.
“Go on then. Ask the questions you want the answers to.”

“It's actually about what we talked about at the end of last year. Do you remember?” Harry
said.

Lupin frowned in confusion. “About your parents?”

“No. Actually, not that. You talked about me being a leader. You talked about rallying Slytherin
because no one else can.”

“And you did well last year.”

Harry licked his lips and shook his head. “That's the problem. *I did well*. I thought
about all of my matches over the summer and a lot of them involved taking care of the problem on my
own. I bypassed their help. I took on the rest of the Houses by myself.”

“Were you not successful?” Lupin asked as he crossed his hands and laid his chin on top of
them.

“Yeah, but that's not because I was a leader. That's because I
performed...exceptionally. If you remove me from the equation and substitute someone else, I
don't know if Slytherin would have won.”

“You can't just remove yourself from the equation, Harry. You're part of it.”

“But if I weren't,” Harry pressed. “If it was just someone else, do you really think the
Slytherin class would have done as well as we did?”

“Of course not but unless you're withdrawing from Hogwarts any time soon, I don't think
you have to worry about that,” Lupin said with an amused laugh.

Harry shook his head, annoyed that Lupin wasn't taking him seriously. “I want Slytherin to
be better than that. I *know* they're better than that. They're
just...privileged...lazy...unable to accept the challenges in front of them and I fear that if I
keep carrying them like this, they're not going to be able to win in anything if I happen to go
down early in a match.”

“You certainly hold yourself in high regard,” Lupin said as he leaned back in his chair.

Harry tightened his jaw at the slight. “You know just as well as I do that I *am* carrying
them.”

“Everyone *knows* that, Harry. So ask what you want to ask and stop trying to justify
yourself to me.”

“What do I need to do to be a better leader?”

Lupin paused, looking at the half crescent moon through the window in his classroom. The
werewolf was contemplating something, trying to weigh his words as Harry remained stock still in
the quiet classroom.

“They already look up to you,” Lupin finally said. “In all honesty, there is not much advice I
can give you. Just because I can recognize that you are a leader doesn't mean I have some sort
of pertinent information I can give you. I have never, in all my life, been a leader. But to be a
leader means that you must have followers.”

“They already follow my orders,” Harry interjected.

“They need to do more than just follow your orders. They need to see you as their leader and
*only* their leader. Not their friend. Not their classmate. Just...the leader. Can you find a
way to do that?”

Harry remained quiet for a moment. *How can I do more than I already am doing? I
don**'**t want their loyal obedience. I just need them to start performing better
than last year*.

“I guess I'll have to find a way,” Harry answered.

Knowing he had a lot of work to do, Harry prepared to bid the Creatures professor goodbye, but
Lupin stopped him with a raise of his hand. Harry looked back at the professor, waiting for some
sort of coda.

“Are you going to participate in the upcoming tournament, Harry?” Lupin asked out of the
blue.

Harry was surprised that the professor would ask such a question. “I've given it thought but
none of it definitive.”

Lupin nodded, mostly to himself, as his eyes darted towards the door and then towards the
numerous windows that outlined his classroom. He raised his wand as if he were about to do
something but then thought better.

“Have you ever seen a Muggle magician?”

*Dudley always claimed to be able to make my teeth disappear. Does that count?*

“Yes,” Harry answered. “One came for my cousin's birthday.”

“Then you know that they are nothing more than illusionists. There is one particular trick that
is my favorite though. Typically, the Muggle magician will tell you to pick a card. He will shuffle
the deck and make a grand show of trying to lose and find your card. The whole time you're
looking at his hands, the deck, the feints - trying to figure out where the trick is. The whole
point of the trick is that the you *think* you know what should happen. In fact, the Muggle
magician goes as far as to present to you the entire plot of what should happen. You're
expecting it at this point and even if he does produce the card, the mystique is lost because you
know what *should* happen. Then, he shows the wrong card and you think the trick is dead. What
you don't know is that the *your* card is plastered on your own forehead. That's what
makes it a great trick. You think you know what will happen, even if it's supposed to be a
surprise, when the real surprise is that the trick is already done and the Muggle magician is just
having a laugh at you.”

Harry let him finish the entire story, wondering if Flamel had suddenly taken over Lupin's
body. What was the point of the story?

“Misdirection, Harry. These things happening all around this year are happening for a reason.
What seems like just a tournament is *much, much* more than that.”

Harry wondered what exactly Lupin was trying to say to him. It was obvious that the professor
was limited by some degree else he would have just divulged his explanations instead of reverting
to cryptic messages and analogous stories. Harry nodded his head, wondering if the proximity to the
full moon was reaching Lupin's head.

“I think I understand, professor,” Harry said.

“The best I can hope for.” Lupin looked away and Harry detected a smidgen of regret from the
werewolf's expression. Lupin turned to him and asked one more question, “By the way, why did
you come to me for advice? Why not Trow?”

“Well Trow usually doesn't like giving me straight answers. He tries to question me. But
after talking to you, it seems as if all Hogwarts teachers went to the same seminar for
teaching.”

Lupin had a laugh about that, chuckling deeply as a rare smile broke across his weathered face.
“This much is true. I suppose that manner of teaching gets handed down by each generation. If I
may, though, why the interest in reviving Slytherin?”

Harry had already prepared for this question. *Because I need to start my building my own
army, professor.*

Instead, Harry smiled slightly and in his most charming voice, replied, “For Slytherin. I'm
just trying to restore the name of Slytherin.”

* * * * * * *

**A/N: I will be away for a little while, so the next update might be delayed, but I hope to
keep true to the estimated update time. Let me know your thoughts on this chapter!**

**Projected update time: 28 days**
 Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7
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29. Following Orders
--------------------



The snow fell in a slow and steady manner, a consistent sheet of white covering the roads and
grounds. Despite the steady stream of snow, the air was brisk instead of chilly, the long winter
showing signs of finally warming. The car travelled along the bank of the road as the brakes
suddenly squealed and the car turned end over end until it smashed against a large tree, crumpling
around the base like an accordion. Then, the dull rush came, growing louder and louder as the snow
swirled, a frozen hurricane surrounding a scream.

**“****HARRY!”**

Harry woke up, his wand in his hand and a rush of blood flowing to his head. For a second, he
didn't know where he was until he placed his hand on the soft, satin sheets and noticed the
green decor of the Slytherin dorm. There was a small light from the bed next to him and Harry
peeked out to see Draco Malfoy tiredly rubbing his eyes as he wrote into a textbook with a large,
feathered quill. Judging by the first glows of the morning sun rising from the window, Harry
realized that it just about dawn. It was more sleep than he had received the previous night and for
that, he was grateful. Swinging out of bed, Harry inclined his head towards Malfoy.

“You're up early,” Harry commented.

Malfoy spared the barest of glances towards him. “I have a lot to catch up on.”

“It's only the first week of school.”

“Doesn't mean I don't have a lot to get caught up on.”

Seeing no reason to bother Malfoy from some apparent studying, Harry readied himself for the
day, despite the heavy headache behind his eyelids. Nonetheless, he rushed to breakfast before the
first bell because of the schedule for the day. The first Battle class of the year for the Fourth
Year Slytherins was on the docket and Harry wanted to be prepared for anything Snape threw at him.
Wolfing down breakfast and making sure to load up on his fluids, Harry rushed off to Trow's
classroom to investigate something that had been worrying him throughout the summer.

Much to his surprise, someone *emerged* from Trow's classroom as Harry approached.
Cedric Diggory gave him a wry smile as he hefted a heavy bag over his strong shoulders. Harry had
nothing to say to him, so he settled with a curt nod as there was limited time before class began,
but as he passed by, he heard Cedric call out to him.

“Harry,” Cedric said, “Do you have a second?”

“Yeah, quickly though, trying to get in some tape time before class starts.”

“You're going to need to get here much earlier than six thirty.”

“Had trouble sleeping,” Harry said.

Cedric nodded. “You'll get a lof those. Anyway, I was wondering if you were going to
participate...in the tournament, I mean.”

“I was thinking about it.” Harry tried to sound disinterested.

“Well you should do it. At least put your name in or whatever they have us trying to do.”

“Why the interest?” Harry asked.

“To be completely honest, you're pretty good. It wouldn't hurt to have someone that has
a bit different...perspective...on our side.”

“Making some presumptions about getting in already?” Harry tried not to sound too
condescending.

Cedric chuckled, at least appearing sheepish. “I've been at least top twenty five on the
Master List for the last three years. I *hope* they pick me.”

“Right, the Master List.”

“Right. Anyway, just hoping you give it a fair shot. It'd be a shame if you didn't. By
the way, Granger's already in there. She's an...interesting one.”

Making a hasty exit, Cedric left Harry with those thoughts. It was a bit strange for the
Hufflepuff to implore Harry in such a manner, but without knowing Cedric well enough, Harry
theorized that the slightly presumptuous Hufflepuff was just trying to pick his team for the
tournament. He had heard of Cedric to know that others called him a *leader* and he could
immediately see why. Diggory certainly didn't lack initiative.

True to Cedric's word, Hermione was seated at the frontmost Stationary Omniocular, her head
already buried in what was assumed to be class footage. Seeing as no one else was in the room yet,
Harry tapped her on the shoulder. Instead of being startled, she glared up at him.

“Busy,” she indicated.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Do you have a second?”

“Thirty seconds,” she replied, glancing at her watch purposefully.

“I had a dream. About your parents again,” Harry said.

Hermione faltered for exactly three seconds. “So did I. Same dream.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair, noticing how long it had grown. It was frustrating to have
these dreams and not pinpointing the exact reason for them. Hermione had promised that she would
hit the library as soon as she could, but both of their schedules were already starting to weigh
down on them. It would be some time before either of them could research the meaning of these
shared dreams. Either that or completely toss out sleep.

“Right, good luck,” Harry finished.

“Don't need it,” Hermione replied as she stuck her head back into the eye sockets.

Shaking his head, Harry sat himself down and began his preparations.

* * * * *

The day already felt long and it was only noon. Battle class was scheduled after lunch and after
a grueling session of Transfigurations that were growing more advanced by the day, Harry sought a
slight reprieve by having lunch outside. Blaise and Tracey offered to join him and Harry didn't
decline.

It was a heavy summer day, the humidity weighing heavily on all of them, but Harry only had his
mind set for Battle class. No matter what he thought of Snape, he couldn't deny the excitement
that had been growing ever since his return to school. He didn't know whether it was the
competition, the challenge, or the perverse sense of satisfaction upon beating someone else. All he
did know was that he was looking forward to Battle class.

“I'm dreading Battle class,” Tracey said.

“I hope he goes easy on us and just sets up duels. I'm not in the mood for a whole House
match right now,” Blaise agreed.

Harry chewed on his food, tactically staying quiet as they continued to air their
complaints.

“I'm going to get matched up with Granger. I know it,” Tracey said. “Who knows what
she's been cooking up with a whole summer?” She looked pointedly at Harry at the last part.

“Truth be told, I don't know exactly,” Harry answered.

“Oh you're useless. What's the point of working with her if you can't get some
information?” Blaise asked.

“Contrary to what you might believe, she doesn't tell me everything. Most of the time, she
tells me to piss off,” Harry said.

“Do you have any advice if we get matched up against her?” Tracey asked.

“Yeah, don't try Legilimency on her,” Harry answered with a smile.

Blaise guffawed, almost choking on the loaf of bread he was eating. Tracey scowled, punching
Harry on the arm in jest.

“It's not funny,” Tracey insisted. “We don't all have our own spell as a hidden
trick.”

“Maybe you should learn one,” Harry offered.

Tracey snorted in an undignified manner. “That'll be the day.”

The bell rung, effectively ending their conversation and summoning them towards the one class
that mattered the most. Blaise was already grumbling, unhappy and ready to get it over with and for
the umpteenth time, Harry questioned the ability of the Slytherin house. If his two most trusted
friends didn't even want to participate, how would that bode for them going forward? He could
hardly put his trust in anyone else in the house.

As they reached the seventh floor where the Room of Requirements opening was located, the trio
found themselves at the back of an already long line and upon further inspection, it was apparent
that every Fourth Year house was going to attend today's class.

“This is not a good sign,” Blaise groaned.

Indeed, it was rare for all of the houses to attend the same Battle class save for special
occasions such as the last year's forest match. Gathering all of the houses on the first day of
Battle class was different than the norm and Harry anticipated that Snape was not going to ease
them in for the year.

The hallway was buzzing with chatter, all four houses represented. They were dressed in matching
grey robes, the only denotation of difference being the intricate patches laced onto the right
breast of their outfits. Stuffed in Harry's pockets were the dragonhide gloves Tracey had given
him over the summer. He didn't want to tip his hand yet, but they could prove invaluable should
the situation require them.

The heavy and rhythmic thud of boots silenced the bustling crowd as Snape approached, his robes
billowing behind him and both of his hands behind his back. Harry noted that he looked more haggard
than usual, an unusual thin dusting of a beard appearing on his face. Yet, his eyes were still cold
and dark, unforgiving and threatening.

“Bones. Granger. Boot. Potter.” He enunciated each word with a staccato rasp, emphasizing each
syllable harshly.

The four names stepped forward, looking at each other curiously. Harry looked questioningly at
Hermione, but she imperceptibly shook her head. It didn't take long for Harry to realize that
the four names were all in the Magical Theory Track. Such things were not a coincidence.

“The rest of you.” Snape swept his arm and the door appeared, opening and revealing a white
space on the other side.

“There is another staging area within. Wait there for me,” Snape ordered.

The pack shuffled forward and Tracey glanced uneasily at Harry as she passed him. Harry tried to
reassure her with a facial expression, but he was more concerned at why Snape was separating the
four of them. In black and white objectivity, he knew the Slytherins were significantly weakened
without him, but would Snape really take out Granger, Boot, and Bones as well? What was the
point?

Snape paced back and forth in front of the door once the last student entered and the door
glowed briefly until the headmaster stopped his pacing. He waved his hand again and the door opened
except it was dark inside this time.

“Follow me,” Snape said as he entered the room without looking back.

Terry eagerly followed the headmaster first while the other three wearily stepped inside. As his
eyes adjusted to the light, Harry found the room spare save for four large tables. Upon closer
inspection, he noticed the tables were raised around the borders, not unlike a billiards table.
They were equidistant from the walls and each other, forming a perfect square.

“Welcome to the Board Room.”

A blue light without a source glowed overhead as the Board Room was bathed in different shades
of blue. Harry heard the soft crackle of magic as the four tables were also illuminated with color.
Shades of green, blue, red, and yellow highlighted each table and it didn't take long for Harry
to gravitate towards the green table, recognizing his house colors. The others followed in similar
fashion as they each took their place at their respective tables.

“As you can see, each of you have control of your board. On your boards, you will find a
communication port. Attach them around your neck to communicate with your respective houses. It is
a charmed one to one communication device and the members of your House will be able to hear you as
if you are standing right beside them. Additionally, you can communicate who you speak to via the
corresponding keys on the ridged edge of your board. Simply press down on the key of who you wish
to speak to or use the spell *Omnes* to talk to everyone.”

Snape walked over to the Slytherin board as Harry tried to process all of the information at
once. He could see Hermione's hand twitching out of the corner of his eye as if she desperately
wanted to take notes. Harry tried to keep his attentions on Snape, not wanting to lose any minor
detail.

“Last of all, you will receive an image on your board.”

The headmaster waved his palm over the flat table and five corporeal bodies appeared, the images
clear enough so that Harry could see it was the five of them in the Board Room. Everything was
outlined in a green tint, from the persons to the tables. The movements were tracked one to one and
Harry demonstrated it by waving his hand in the air and watching the doppelganger mimic his motion
on the board.

“With the charms on this table, you will be able to see what the members of your House see but
nothing more. From here, you can direct them as you wish and you can use several motions to change
your field of view.”

Using both of his hands, Snape rotated the room by twisting an invisible wheel clockwise so that
the images or figures turned as so. He showed a few other movements that could cause the projected
room to expand or zoom within the board. The detail was perfected to the fine minutiae. Harry could
even see his glasses on the projected image on the green-lit board in front of him.

“These boards are specifically tuned to your wands and will be activated as so. If you will, Mr.
Potter?” Snape asked.

Harry wearily gave Snape his wand and the headmaster placed the wand onto some sort of chassis.
Instead of holding it between the hooked prongs, however, the wand floated in suspension, only
briefly glowing as the projected images on the board transformed from the Board Room to a
mountainous terrain. It was still bathed in a green light, but Harry could decipher the rolling
hills and flat plains that represented the likely battlefield for today's Battle class.

“As you might have deduced, you will only be able to give orders and oversee what is happening
by dictating what you see on the board. Communication will never waver unless one of your house
members is eliminated from competition. You will hear everything unless you choose to do so. The
spell to silence all outgoing communication is *Nemin*.”

Snape turned towards the sole door in the room, attempting to leave them to their thoughts, but
Susan stopped him with a very pertinent question.

“Why didn't you make those in Leadership do this?” The Hufflepuff girl who was known for
being shy and meek was the first to question the headmaster.

Snape paused, looking slightly over his shoulder so they could only see half his face.

“There is a difference between leading and commanding. There are only four of you in Magical
Theory and it is because you are the best at what you do. There are times when you have had to
lead. Many of you have done so over the course of the last three years. Your house has followed you
into battle, reveling in the comfort of your superior talents. *Command* is different. They
must obey you. They must listen to you. They must learn to survive without your outstanding
capabilities by their side because there will come a time when you will not be able to be there
with your housemates - your friends. They will not have your assistance and all you will be able to
do is watch and direct. It is a different skillset, one that you have not applied until now. The
cost of learning is steep, so I suggest you learn quickly.”

Before the last word even left his breath, Snape left the room, the door slamming shut behind
him with a bleak finality. There was a numbness within Harry, a confused rage that Snape had
somehow taken Harry's concerns from the night previous to Lupin and directly applied them for
this Battle class. But it wasn't possible. Magic like the Board Room couldn't have been
done overnight. It required time. It required excellent spellwork from a bevy of faculty. Had the
older students ever said anything about it before? Not that Harry could recall, but then again, he
rarely spoke to the older students.

By the time Harry recollected himself, his three compatriots had already placed themselves in
front of their respective boards. Terry was the last to place his wand in the chassis and as he did
so, a shimmer of magic rose from the ground and separated all four of them. Harry watched,
transfixed, as the distorted translucency blocked a clear vision to the others.

“Of course,” Harry whispered. “We're not allowed to see each other's boards.”

Yet, Harry could still see a faint outline behind the glass-like surface. To his right, he could
see the distorted and shaded figure of Hermione, easily outlined by her bushy mop of hair. Harry
stepped towards the magical wall and watched Hermione do the same until they were only separated by
the glass-like barrier. He placed his hand against it, noticing that she mimicked his actions and
placed her open palm against the wall.

Taking a deep breath, Harry took a step back and timidly walked towards his dark green board.
The communication port was made of silver and Harry opened it by flicking the clasp in the front.
It opened and Harry gingerly placed it around his neck. Snapping the clasp into place, Harry felt
the communication port magically constrict so it fit snugly against his neck without being too
restricting. Still, Harry felt not unlike a dog with a collar.

In front of him, the board suddenly came to life as nine green figures appeared on a flat plain
within the terrain. He could see Blaise and Nott towering over the rest as well as Tracey's
figure right beside Blaise. She was looking around, trying to examine her surroundings while her
hand reached for her neck. Looking down, Harry saw that there were around twenty, slightly raised,
buttons on the side of the board. In bright green ink, the Fourth Year Slytherin's last names
were placed over nine of them, clearly signifying who he could speak to.

It was only because of the tightness of the communication port around his neck that Harry
noticed he was breathing heavily. He was never one to grow nervous before Battle class. If anything
else, he usually maintained a calm disposition as he anticipated his opponent, but this was unlike
anything he had to do before. He could not save Slytherin with an unknown spell. He couldn't
bail them out time after time. That gnawing feeling in his stomach that had been eating away at him
all summer had come to fruition and not for the first time, Harry wondered how good Snape was at
Legilimency.

But that would be a fight for another day.

“*Omnes*.”

All at once, he heard the chatter. It was so clear and so precise like Pansy was talking in his
head. They were confused, disoriented, complaining that Snape had told them to attach the
communication ports around their neck before sending them through the door into this terrain. He
heard Blaise ask, “Where's Harry?”

Taking one last deep breath and willing himself to calm down, Harry finally spoke.

“This is Potter. Prepare yourselves.”

* * * * * *

“Harry, get out of my head.”

It was Blaise, already reacting in a manner that annoyed Harry. Using his hands like Snape
showed him, Harry expanded the map so that he could see further out. Frustratingly, all he could
see was darkness beyond the two hills that surrounded the flat plain where the Slytherins were
starting.

“Move towards the valley in front of you,” Harry ordered.

Instead of obeying his command, his head exploded with senseless chatter again. Almost all of
them were bombarding him with questions of why he wasn't there and how he was speaking inside
their heads. Harry could tell that he was going to have a headache after this Battle class, but he
was in no mood to play question and answer. Every second wasted would be detrimental to victory and
now that the initial panic had passed, Harry felt the competitiveness surge back to life.

“LISTEN TO ME,” Harry bellowed, finally silencing the continuous squawking. “Rally to the valley
in front of you! I will explain everything as we go, but you need to move *now*.”

There was finally a silence, a blissful moment where the voices were gone from his head. Just as
Harry thought they were finally going to start paying attention, Tracey spoke up.

“Harry, where are *you*?”

Harry gripped the edge of the board, inhaling deeply and wondering if he could project anger
through the communication port. He looked up and even through the distorted barrier, he could see
Terry gesticulating wildly as he, no doubt, tried to encourage his Ravenclaw brethren to do the
same. To his right, Harry saw Hermione calmly leaning of the board, not a wasted movement in
sight.

*They have to move*.

“I'm in a room, watching all of you. I will not be there. I repeat, I am not going to be
able to help you down there. All of you are on your own and if you don't move within the next
five seconds, we *all* will lose.”

Finally, Tracey said, “You heard him. Let's go!”

The nine images broke forward, moving with a purpose as Harry eased off the board and swiped the
back of his hand against his forehead, wiping away the perspiration that had already collected on
his skin. Observing them was more nerve wracking than any Battle match he had ever done save for
the forest. Frustration and a sense of helplessness radiated off him, but he had to control him for
it would do the Slytherins no good to hear that he was nervous.

The board slowly lit up in areas previously unknown. What was shrouded in a cloud of black was
revealed to be more hills as the valley curved in an “S” shape. To Harry, it was an obvious
bottleneck that he wanted to avoid. He rotated the images with his hands, expanding his hands
towards the sides to zoom in slightly. Despite the decent fidelity, Harry had nowhere near the
range of vision he would have if he were standing there.

“Blaise. Those hills. Can you climb them?” Harry asked.

“This is still driving me bonkers, Harry.”

“*Can you climb them?*” Harry hissed.

“I suppose we could. They aren't too elevated,” Blaise said.

*I need someone to get up high. I have no idea what the rest of the terrain looks like or in
what direction they might be coming from. If only I could do it. Yet, who? How many? Should I
chance them going through the “S” valley?*

It was hard to think, much more difficult than it was for him when he was actually participating
in a match. On the ground, everything was instinctive and he made snap decisions cultivated by
years of training in other situational events. But overseeing everyone else required him to think
for everyone else as well. He had to assess the strengths and weaknesses of his friends in real
time since he was unable to cover the gap with his own abilities.

“Did you see that?!” Pansy suddenly cried out.

Jumping slightly, Harry cupped his hands together over the board and then drew them apart,
expanding his view to see if Pansy was right. Yet, nothing was showing up in front of him. Nine
green figures had their wands out, pointing in scattered directions. Harry rotated his hands around
the invisible axis, rotating the view continuously, but he still couldn't find any
movement.

“Pansy, what is it?”

“I don't know I saw something!”

“Is it over there?”

“No, I think it's over that hill.”

“Change, change, it's around the bend.”

“I don't see anything!”

The voices interchanged quickly, overlapping each other in Harry's head. He didn't know
whether they were normally like this and he was too busy to overhear every little facet but
confronted with every single communication, Harry was going mad.

“*Nemin.*”

It was the most glorious silence he had ever heard. What was a buzzing of bees in his mind
turned into a comforting blanket of nothingness. He could still see the green figures desperately
turning in what was possibly the most strategically disadvantageous point at the mouth of three
valleys, but Harry needed the momentary reprieve. Without the terrible squabbling filling his head,
he was finally able to think. Pressing the Tracey button, Harry noticed that it squished instead of
clicked.

“Tracey, take Pansy with you and head up that hill. We need a better vantage point,” Harry
calmly ordered.

“But what about -”

Harry interrupted her briskly. “Get up that hill, *now.* I don't see any movement
here.”

“Pansy said that she did and everyone else is asking why they can't hear you.”

Disregarding her comment, Harry pushed on. “Tracey. You need to trust me.”

There was another silence as Tracey wisely stopped talking and started thinking. After just a
few seconds, she whispered, “Pansy and I are going up the hill. It'll be about a minute and
I'll let you know when I'm up there.”

*Thank you, Tracey. Finally, someone that listens.*

“*Omnes*.”

The constant chatter was back, but it wasn't as overwhelming this time. He could separate
their voices easier and found the experience more manageable. They continued to talk, their voices
rattling in Harry's skull, as he watched the field of vision expand as Tracey and Pansy's
images ascended the hill. There was a flicker of view that disappeared so quickly that Harry
couldn't tell if it was the lighting playing with his eyes.

“Blaise, pull them into shell formation. I saw something coming.”

Instead of immediately questioning his orders, Blaise had the decency to try and form them into
their practiced and cautious formation. Overlapping shields in a slow moving group wasn't
optimal in terms of attack, but it would at least regroup them and hopefully settle them down.

“Harry, I see Ravenclaws,” Tracey interjected.

True to her word, blue images broke over the horizon of the hill, already slightly elevated from
the main contingent of Slytherins. His hands moving quickly, Harry rotated the map so that he was
situated behind the Ravenclaws, trying to see the vantage point from their perspective. As he tried
to understand their trajectory, their images flickered as they lost consistency for a moment.
Shaking his head, Harry wondered just exactly how this magic worked. Could he see anything within
the predetermined field of vision? Could he only see exactly what his Slytherins saw?

“Tracey, turn around. Face away from the hills,” Harry said.

As Tracey obeyed his commands, the Ravenclaws disappeared totally from his board. The answer to
that particular question would be useful. Understanding that he could only see what they saw
increased the importance of a scout like Tracey.

“Whatever you do, Tracey, don't attract attention to yourself. I can only see what you see
and I can't lose you in this one. Disguising and illusions spells. Whatever you have to do to
make yourself unseen.”

“Got it, Harry,” she answered.

Tracey and Pansy lay flat against the ground and Harry could only hope that they had used some
sort of Disillusionment charm. After all, he could still see them on his board, but he didn't
know what effects of the spell would have on his visibility. There were far more pressing matters
to worry about. He pushed Tracey's and Pansy's buttons on the communication panel of the
board, not wanting their directions to overlap with the orders he was going to give to Blaise.

The Ravenclaws had spotted the Slytherins at the mouth of the valley and Harry saw them
scrambling for better positions up the hillside. It was quite a bit of distance to traverse so at
least it wouldn't quite be Flubberworms in a barrel, but Harry had to get them moving.

“Blaise, there are Ravenclaws directly ahead of you along the ridge. They're too far away to
do any real damage to you without some accurate spells so you need to beat a retreat to the other
side of the hill and regroup with Tracey and Pansy at the top,” Harry ordered.

Blaise didn't respond, but Harry could hear his heavy breathing in his head and touched the
silver ring around his neck, marveling at the piece of magic. Since none of the older students had
told them about this Board Room, Harry tentatively concluded that this facet of Battle match was
new to them. Certainly, it would be quite helpful to obtain this wonderful piece of wizardry.

A flash of light caught his eye and Harry watched as an illuminated beam shot from one of the
Ravenclaws wands, Mandy to be exact, arcing like a rainbow towards the group of Slytherins. It came
short of hitting them, but Harry had no way of knowing what the spell was. Judging by the panicked
movements of the Slytherins at the mouth of the valley, it was not just a Stunning spell.

“Blaise, what's happening?”

“I don't know,” Blaise responded, “Some sort of thick sludge. It's growing around us. I
don't know what spell this is!”

“Conjure something. Throw it into the sludge and for Merlin's sake, move back!”

“Conjure something...conjure something…” Blaise whispered, presumably to himself.

“Just do it, Blaise. Stop thinking about it! Everyone else, smoke and haze charms. Cover your
retreat. Get back! *Get back!*

“Harry,” Pansy whispered. “On the other side.”

Flecks of red appeared around the bend, two or three Gryffindors on the ground level of the
snaking valley. Upon sighting the turned Slytherins, they broke into a dead sprint and Harry
watched as they raised their wands.

“Incoming on the other side. *TURN. TURN. TURN.”*

There wasn't enough time to prepare nor did Harry have any grasp of the rest of the area.
His immediate action area was a narrowing slice of land sandwiched between two approaching forces.
It was only Pansy and Tracey, hidden to his knowledge, that gave him a tentative advantage.

Unfortunately, the Slytherins were slow to react to his orders as only some of them turned while
the rest concentrated on the Ravenclaws over the ridge, now lobbing various spells concentrated on
confusing the patch of Slytherins.

“Holy hell,” Nott muttered.

“Get out of the way! Get out of the way!” Someone shrieked, but Harry couldn't decipher who
as screams filled his mind. The Slytherins split apart as something scattered them, slicing them in
half down the middle. There was an individual writhing on the ground, grasping his leg and upon
further examination, it was Millicent.

“It crushed her leg!”

“Where'd they conjure that from?”

“She's screaming so loud!”

Blaise was lifted off his feet, his body twirling in midair before his image disappeared off the
board. Judging from the overlapping shouts, he had been stunned by the Gryffindors rapidly
approaching, sandwiching them in the overexposed mouth of the valley. Harry expanded his view,
noting that they only had one way to escape.

Slamming his fists against the edge of the board, Harry screamed, “*RETREAT UP THE
HILL!”*

Harry wondered if they were hearing him at all as they continued to try and fend off the
Gryffindors, rooted to their spot at the bottom of the hill as Millicent continued to writhe on the
ground, pinned by what had to be a conjured boulder. One figure walked over to Millicent and
pointed their wand down to her and Millicent's image vanished from the board as well.

“*UP THE HILL! UP THE HILL!*” The person who stunned Millicent shouted and Harry blinked as
he registered Malfoy's voice for the first time.

“Tracey, what is up the hill? Is it flat or is there something you can use to cover them?” Harry
asked.

“There's uh...there's some trees. We can use that...we can use that!”

Tracey and Pansy leapt to their feet, finally emerging from their prone position as they waved
their wands in slashing motions. Harry couldn't see any of the environment, but if he had to
guess, they were cutting the trees down and rolling the trunks down the hill.

“Get out of the way!” Tracey yelled as Harry heard a thud and snap of wood.

The board was covered with spells flying across the air as the green figures scattered at the
bottom of the hill, desperately avoiding the rolling logs while simultaneously ascending the
slopes. The Gryffindors who were pursuing them halted their pursuit, scrambling towards the other
side of the valley.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw the blue images suddenly vanish off the board. Tracey
wasn't fully looking in that direction, so Harry didn't know whether they were out of his
field of vision or if someone else had caught them napping. Pansy swung around, thankfully o

Glancing to his right, Harry saw the distorted view of Hermione dancing around the table and
though he could hear nothing, Harry imagined that she was delivering rapid directions and commands
as she flitted around the magical board. There had still been no sign of the Hufflepuffs and if
they were indeed following orders from Susan, they would no doubt take a more cautious approach.
Cautious was probably a misnomer. More likely, they were biding their time, waiting to mop up
everyone else.

The three Gryffindors that had pursued the Slytherins along the ground were doubling back across
the valley, using the newly collapsed logs as cover as their images flitted in and out of view
according to someone's line of sight. They were moving quickly, trying to close off a Slytherin
retreat as Ron stood up, ready to attack.

“Everyone, down the other side of the hill. Get out of their line of sight and Granger won't
be able to see you on her board,” Harry said.

“What board?” A variety of voices asked.

“Just don't worry about it,” Harry said with an exasperated sigh, his stomach tight with
tension. “You need to get out of their view and bust it down the hill so you can outflank them on
the other ridge. It has to be all of you, I can't risk splitting you apart now.”

Nott responded, “Why can't we just stay on top of the hill? This seems like a defensible
position. High ground and all that.”

“As we speak, there are three Gryffindors coming up the same side of the hill you came up on.
They will cut off your retreat and the rest of the Gryffindors will hit you with *Bombarda*
and other spells designed to just splash the area. We *will* lose if you don't get off the
top of the hill!”

“Harry, I don't see anyone. I don't see the Gryffindors coming up,” Tracey said.

“I can see it *all*,” Harry growled, anger boiling at their impertinence. “I can see all of
you. I can see them when you see them and trust me when I say they are going to pin you down if you
don't move *now*!”

“Shit, Potter, how can you see them? I think - I think we're better on the hill. Let us get
some time to regroup,” Pansy said in a panicked voice.

Harry's fist slammed down against the side of the the table. They weren't listening.
They just weren't listening and Harry wondered if they even usually listened when he was there
with them. Still, his fears were mostly confirmed. They were headless chickens without him, relying
him on every turn and even though he was giving them what he thought to be good directions, the
Slytherins were unsure without their leader.

“This is an *order*,” Harry menacingly whispered. “Get off the hill.”

Of course, they didn't listen.

* * * * * * * *

One night later, Harry waited at the bottom of the stairs of the Slytherin Common Room. The
majority of their injuries were healed thanks to Madame Pomfrey's skills otherwise Harry would
have pulled them all out of the night of his first session in the Board Room. He had given orders
to Tracey to retrieve the girls from their side of the room and fortunately, at least in this
situation, she complied without complaint. He gave the same orders to Blaise and reminded all of
them to bring their wands.

There had been several ways in which Harry could have approached this situation. He had left the
Board Room, disgusted and avoiding Hermione's obvious pleading glances to talk about the tools
they just used. There was too much swimming through his head to add Hermione's eagerness to
talk with it. To Harry, there were much more pressing matters to deal with first. He would
eventually talk to her about the implications of the Board Room and what it meant to them, but the
House came first.

“Potter, what's this about?” Nott asked as he stumbled down the stairs, tiredly rubbing his
eyes.

Nott's impatience further stoked the embers of his anger. Harry didn't respond, simply
glaring at him until it became obviously uncomfortable. Just as someone was about to speak, Harry
quickly interrupted them.

“No talking.”

He said nothing else though he could still hear the whispers behind his back, but it was beyond
time to worry about that. As they followed him out of the Common Room, Harry had to laugh within
his head. How easy it was for them to follow when he was present but not do so when he was giving
orders from a remote location. No. That would not do.

Though the Slytherin House was located in the dungeons of Hogwarts, there was still a further
level down where there were empty classrooms, a derelict of the past. Harry walked towards one that
still had a door and opened it, ushering everyone else through first. Not a single one of them made
so much as a complaint as they entered the abandoned classroom, save for Draco who glanced warily
at Harry and the wand that hung loosely in his hand.

As the last person, Tracey, entered, Harry shut the door quietly, whispering a Locking Charm and
a Silencing Charm at the same time. Turning around, Harry noticed that least Blaise and Draco were
paying attention and showed some apprehension that Harry had locked the door behind them. Making a
mental note to file that piece of information away, Harry strode towards the center of the room,
disgusted by the way they gravitated away from him.

The silence continued, awkward and overbearing in the eerily quiet castle. Harry let it dangle
there, letting them wonder why he had summoned them into an empty classroom in the middle of the
night. Tracey looked at him expectantly and in some ways, Harry had been most disappointed in her.
While she followed his direct orders to her, he noticed her silence as he tried to urge the
Slytherins to move instead of staying at the top of the hill. After the battle in the forest, he
had hoped that Tracey had enough initiative to wrestle control when he wasn't in play, but she
failed in that regard.

“Potter -” Pansy started.

“Don't speak,” Harry harshly interrupted.

Her mouth dropped and Harry reminded himself that this was the best option of the ones he
imagined. In an ideal world, he would have replaced those who were not up to task to serving
Slytherin with others, but this was the hand he was dealt. There was no replacing Goyle's
oafishness or Bulstrode's lethargy. There was no undoing Malfoy's pride or Blaise's
cowardice. There was nothing he could do about Parkinson's narcissism or Daphne's laziness.
He could not change Nott's ego or Sadie's selfishness. Tracey he could rely on, but she had
too much fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of failure. Fear of rejection. She was too unsteady to
lean on for now.

Alone, individually, in separate pieces, they could not function cohesively. Not now, at least.
Maybe further down the line, he could trust them to operate without holding their hands the entire
way, but they needed to be united. They needed to obey. Even if they despised him, the Slytherin
House needed to regain their sense of self, long lost in decades of apathy.

“No one is leaving unless they get past *me*,” he hissed the last word, calmly looking at
each of them in the eye.

They looked around, struggling to find someone to speak to him. By default, they fell to Tracey
and it angered Harry even more that they couldn't find the wherewithal to ask the question
themselves.

“What...what are you doing, Harry?” Tracey asked for all of them.

“Yesterday was a pathetic display of basic dueling. *All* of you were terrible.”

“That's a little unfair,” Blaise said.

“You're right,” Harry kept his coldness, not wanting it to seem like he was playing
favorites. “Let me rephrase that. All of you were irrefutably awful.”

Some confusion, but mostly anger, flickered across their faces. Harry struck again, twisting the
knife deeply into their senses of pride and ego.

“I often wondered whether or not the rest of you would make it through one match without me. I
think I've gotten my answer.”

Pansy, always thinking highly of herself, stepped forward. “Now wait just a minute here -”

“We have all night to wait.” Harry didn't let her finish. “All of you will learn how to take
directions. All of you will learn to follow orders. All of you will learn how to *comply*.
Until then - no one leaves.”

Some of them were beginning to realize that Harry was serious. He had positioned himself between
them and the door and Harry figured that he had at least four hours to bring them together. At
least one of them would try to escape and that would trigger the others. Harry thought of how Snape
stood and imitated him, widening his stance until his feet were shoulder width and placing his
hands behind his back, his wand hidden though they knew it was present.

“From now on, *I AM MERLIN'S WORD*!” Harry screamed the last part, his voice echoing
off the stone walls as some of the Slytherins flinched. Tracey, in particular, looked in shock at
this sudden change in him.

“Salzaar Slytherin would be turning in his grave to see what Slytherin has become. Weak.
Passive. Unable to function in any conceivable manner that could be deemed as half clever without
me. Do I have to babysit all of you? Do I have to win every match for all of you?” He taunted.

“I am tired of watching you wait to see what happens. I am tired of carrying all of you on my
back time and time again. I am tired of witnessing incompetence so gross that the Hufflepuffs could
probably march you up and down Battle class without breaking a sweat. Because of this, you will
obey every word I say. If I have to order when to breathe, then I will do so if that lets us win. I
am not your friend. I am not your Housemate. Snape has let me know as much by assigning me to watch
your every move while you are in Battle class.”

More than a few of them had their jaws hanging open, not knowing whether to feel rebuked or
angered by Harry's constant insults. *Good, let them get mad*, he thought. Harry was
relatively confident that he could handle all of them if they decided to simultaneously attack him
to try and leave, but they wouldn't do that. Tracey didn't have the courage to do so and
neither would Blaise. Seven versus one he could handle with a mere *Fulminare*. It was an
empty threat, one designed to instill fear within them.

“I am your Commander. You will address me as such wherever you see me. In Battle class. In
hallways. In our dormitories. Until such a time I deem that you can walk without assistance in
Battle class, you are all under my control and you *will* obey or I will not take you into
Battle class.”

“You can't do that!” Nott pleaded.

“I can. Snape has given me the right to do so,” Harry lied.

No one questioned Headmaster Snape and Nott looked helplessly around at his other Slytherins who
were in similar states of shock. Harry kept his face impassive, feigning calm anger while his heart
hammered in his chest.

“WIll you obey?” Harry asked, walking towards Nott until he was face to face with the taller
boy. Theodore looked away, not answering.

Stepping back and slowly pacing in front of them, Harry made sure to make eye contact with all
of the Slytherins, restraining the desire to use Legilimency to influence their decisions. They had
to make it themselves. They had to respond to him.

“Will you obey?” Harry repeated, the volume of his voice increasing this time.

It could have easily backfired. One of them could have laughed when he declared himself
Commander or picked out his lie about Snape, but none of them did so, a testament to their lack of
ingenuity under pressure. That would have to change but first, they had to learn to trust each
other instead of just trusting him.

“*WILL YOU OBEY?!*”

Harry stopped pacing, resuming his Snape stance as he would come to call it, and waiting for the
one person who would step up.

One person did so.

“Yes, Commander Potter,” said Draco Malfoy.

One by one, the rest of them followed suit and Harry did his best to avoid the hurt stare from
Tracey or the incredulous expression of Blaise. This was good. This was progress. The fact that it
was Draco who complied first was better than Harry could have expected. They might not function
optimally the first time, but they would listen. They would get better. They would hate him.

And inside, in a place that no one was likely to reach, Harry's heart blackened.

* * * * * * * *

“You got what you wanted.”

“You say that like it's a bad thing.”

“Oh yes, it's basic leadership. Make them hate you to unite them. I've never been fond
of that tactic.”

“It's just the first step.”

“The first step to what? Bringing the Slytherins together or turning Harry into the leader you
envision him to be?”

“Why can't it be both?”

“You are…”

“I am what? Say it. Don't think I haven't noticed your disturbing trend to be more
protective of the boy.”

“I just don't think this is the best course for him...anymore…”

“And now you say this? Deep into our program, you have a change of heart? My - you are - just
the man I thought you were.”

“Do not let the sins of *both* of our pasts cloud your vision. I am simply looking for the
best way to shape the boy.”

“Spare me your attempts to share the blame. It lies with you. This could have all been avoided
if you were mildly competent at what you were trying to achieve. That same penchant for heart and
sympathy will kill the boy when he faces the Dark Lord. I do not care if you have had a change of
heart. We have been paying for your mistakes this entire time. You, *of all people*, do not
get to change what we have started.”

“What would you have me do? What would you have me say to change things?”

“*Nothing*. You can do *nothing*. Just as you did *nothing* all those years ago.
The boy has taken a great step today. He has recognized that he needs to be different. He needs to
separate. He can not simply be satisfied with the fact that he is better than the rest of his
peers. I will not have you sully this day of progress because of your *change of heart*.”

“Do not let your bitterness control you. There is a way for the boy. A way that does not so
closely share the same road of a similar ilk a lifetime ago.”

“No.”

“I have made you what you are. I have crafted this program for you.”

“And it is my decision we will go by. The boy will learn to dictate the battle from afar. The
boy will learn, in the upcoming tasks, how to win against monstrous circumstances. The boy will
lead and clean the Slytherin house from the decades of rot that has settled deep within the roots.
He will do all of those things because we - *I* - have chosen the right path for him.”

“Please, Severus. I can no longer foresee a successful outcome for all parties.”

“There never has been. After all, was it not you who originated our end game procedure?”

“It was...it was…”

“Don't pretend that neither you nor I didn't know what could become of this. Our first
and foremost object was to rid of the Dark Lord. Then, establish a framework to defend against any
such beings in the future. Last of all, in the case of irreparable damage, make sure that we have
not created one. Oh - you do come up with the most sinister of ideas.”

“It was an idea. *Just an idea!*”

“Yes, it starts as an idea. Then, it grows until you have no control over it. Potter will not
have that problem.”

“I'm...I'm a monster.”

“Finally, you see.”

* * * * * *

**Estimated update time: 16 days**
 Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7
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30. Lostrego
------------



The elves were surprisingly quick about relocating his bed. Harry had requested the move from
Professor Slughorn and unsurprisingly, the jumpy Potions professor agreed. His bed was placed in
the front of the room beside the door, far enough away from the rest of his roommates so that he
was sufficiently isolated.

He woke up at five thirty and for once, Malfoy was still asleep by the time he was dressed.
Trudging down the stairs and out of the Common Room, Harry basked in the relative silence of
Hogwarts. The sun had not yet risen, but there was enough light peeking over the horizon so that
the torches were giving off a light smoke. His footsteps clattered loudly against the cobblestone,
but they were his and his alone.

Upon entering Trow's classroom, Harry was surprised to find that Cedric and a smatter of
other older students were already there. They looked up at him, some staring longer than others,
but they quickly went back to their observations. Only Cedric continued to stare at him and gave
him a small smile. Harry walked over to the bench beside him and gave Cedric a curt nod.

“That's more like it, Potter,” Cedric said.

As Harry readied his Stationary Omniocular, he asked Cedric, “Are all of you always here this
early?”

“There's a lull around breakfast, but it's pretty full here until late at night.
It's a lot less stressful trying to fight some Second Year for a station,” he explained.

With nothing else to say, Harry buried his head in the Stationary and rewatched the previous
day's match. He already knew of the obvious mistakes, but it was time to start highlighting
individuals. The late night dramatics would either prove fruitful or disastrous, but for now, Harry
was focused on trying to find everyone's particular skillset. Given Hermione's journal from
the previous year, Harry had a rough idea of how everyone could perform, but that told him nothing
of how they would do in a team setting that did not contain him.

Tracey followed orders as best she could, but she was hesitant and unsure of her abilities. This
wasn't a new problem. It was an ongoing confidence issue that didn't have any sort of
consistency. She had her moments. After Harry had fallen in the forest, she had rallied the
Slytherins well and reduced Gryffindor down to just Granger, but there were other times when she
completely froze on the spot.

Draco surprised him, not only taking the initiative to stun Millicent to stop the pain, but he
was also one of the few that followed his order to move off the hill. He was alone in that regard,
but it showed that he was willing to follow orders when necessary and Harry made a mental note to
give the git some credit. He had been much changed since the beginning of the school year and
perhaps he would be more compliant in Battle this year.

Blaise was most disappointing. Harry had assumed that whatever classes he had taken in
Leadership would grant him de facto command on the field, but he was panicky and questioned him at
every turn. It wasn't that Harry thought it was unhealthy to question his orders, but there was
a time and a place for that and Blaise, like he did outside of duels and matches, had no filter.
Furthermore, he had little understanding of how to use his spells and even less awareness of his
surroundings. Harry saw it in the panicked way he would turn and fret at every movement. Blaise was
at his best by himself, operating within his domain. When it wasn't in his control, he lost all
discipline.

The rest were a hodge podge of miserable and directionless. Harry didn't know how he had
been so blind to see the defects of the Slytherin house, but perhaps his own ego had gotten in the
way of seeing the obvious rot. Without him, they were almost non functional, but there was
something to work with. It was far from hopeless, but it wouldn't be easy to reform them into a
unit worthy of the Slytherin name.

“You look stressed,” Cedric said, interrupting his viewing.

Harry pulled back from the station and pondered on a thought he had been having.

“Did you start the Board Room in Fourth Year?” Harry asked.

“The Board Room,” Cedric chuckled, “The first time I stepped into the Board Room, I barely
scratched out a win and that was due more to luck than anything. It's a completely different
experience trying to command a bunch of your friends that won't listen to you. Yeah - I can see
why you're stressed.”

“Any tips?” Harry asked.

“Yeah. Make them listen.”

Cedric offered nothing else, so Harry returned to the replay of the match, taking notes on how
he should approach the next match. It occurred to him that even if he were to apply everything he
learned about the Fourth Year Slytherins, it would serve him no good to attempt to accomplish
everything in real time. They would have to meet outside of class and they wouldn't be happy.
But it wasn't his job to keep them happy. It was his job to make them win.

Harry stayed until the breakfast bell, well after Cedric had left. Harry thanked the older
Hufflepuff for his kindness and wondered why the Hufflepuff stalwart had taken a liking to him.
Either way, it was nice to know that others had struggled in the Board Room as well. He entered the
Great Hall late and noticed that most of the students had already sat down. As Harry walked towards
the Slytherin table, he realized the Fourth Years and some of the other Slytherins were looking at
him expectantly.

*I must not show weakness. I am different now. I am their Commander.*

He chose to sit more than a few lengths down the table, isolated from the Fourth Year Slytherins
or any other Slytherins for that matter. Food appeared on his plate and Harry ate in stony silence,
not bothering to look up at the rest of them. *Let them talk.*

Harry heard someone settle in across from him and looked up to see Tracey's blue eyes. Her
face was drawn tight, the bags visible underneath her eyes. Her usual chipper expression was gone
from her face and it was replaced by a passive demeanor. Harry thought about asking her to sit down
with the rest of the Slytherins but realized it would be counterproductive in Tracey's case. He
still needed someone that would listen to him without question and sending Tracey away would only
solidify her under someone else's control.

The corner of her mouth ticked upwards as she said, “Commander.”

Harry nodded back at her, thankful that she understood his troublesome position.

* * * * * * * *

He sat alone in all of his classes, noticeably removed from the rest of his classmates. Tracey
tried to sit with him in Potions, but he subtly shook her off, not wanting to give the impression
that he was playing favorites. Her pained expression hurt him inside, but that was the choice he
made and there was no turning back on his persona as Commander.

Blaise chuckled and winked at him as he walked by to sit with Tracey. Harry didn't find the
situation particularly amusing as any sort of favoritism would undermine the entire reason for this
structural change. It wasn't a joke anymore and it hurt Harry to have to do this to his
friends. The divide was even more pronounced as the class was held by Hufflepuffs and Harry found
himself seated close to Justin of all people.

Justin refused to meet his eyes, resolutely staring ahead and down at a scroll of parchments.
His hands were shaking, his posture nervous. Snape must have really done a number on him to
completely change his attitude. Harry regarded him coolly, not forgetting about Justin's
exploits last year. As he stared at him, an idea started to form in his head. There was something
he could work with here.

“Good morning class,” said the nervous Potions professor. Professor Slughorn wobbled as he stood
behind the desk in the front of the classroom. He gave a small, quivering smile and adjusted the
glasses on the perch of his nose. Slughorn always gave the impression of a fearful worm trying
desperately to avoid being squashed.

“Today, we will be talking about the Polyjuice Potion,” Slughorn said.

Harry kept his eyes on Justin and hissed, “Justin.”

Justin didn't move his head up, his hand furiously copying down notes as Slughorn continued
to speak, but Harry knew he had been loud enough for the Hufflepuff to hear him. The soft
scratching of quills was his only response, so Harry called out his name again. This time, Justin
at least glanced his way, his eyes subtly darting sideways and finally catching Harry's own.
Still, he said nothing and refused to acknowledged Harry. Patiently, so as to not draw attention
from Slughorn, Harry waited and hissed the Hufflepuff's name again.

*“**This is a very difficult potion to make and an even more difficult potion to gather
materials for. For that reason, we will only have one test potion, but I assure you that I will
test you heavily on the theory of it!**”*

“I know you can hear me, Finch-Fletchley,” Harry whispered.

“What do you want?” Justin asked.

*“**The potion is created in two stages which totals for a duration at about a month.
There are particulars to each stage that make it difficult for even the most advanced potions
student to make, but the theories to be learned are very important. I don**'**t
expect any of you to achieve a Polyjuice worthy of use, but it is important to know what its uses
and applications...**”*

“I need a favor from you,” Harry said.

“I don't particularly want anything to do with you right now, Potter.”

“Well I think you owe me.”

Justin finally turned to him and Harry could see that he was different from the previous year.
His face was fatter, his eyes a little more haunted. His mouth kept twitching as if he were chewing
on gum. The Hufflepuff said, “What the hell are you on about?”

“*A more experienced master can make a Polyjuice with a duration of up to twelve hours, but
this is very rare. The average duration is roughly three and a half hours for the average potion
maker. Now let**'**s go over the ingredients**…”*

“Do I need to remind of you of what you did to Tracey?” Harry whispered in an even lower volume,
minding the curious ears around him.

Justin huffed. “Snape already - he almost expelled me. That wasn't what you - it just - it
got out of hand.”

“That's a bit of an understatement given what you did.”

“You were ready to kill me!” Justin hissed.

“And I should have,” Harry hissed back.

“*The* *appearance of the potion resembles a very thick liquid that bubbles. Something
special about Polyjuice is that upon inheriting the piece of material of the potential transformee,
it adopts a slightly different texture that is unique to each person. The less you see of the thick
liquid, the purer the potion is**…”*

“I can get you expelled if I have to,” Harry threatened. “For all the other shit you've
done. You owe me enough to hear me out or else I'm going to Snape and getting you out of
here.”

Harry had no intention of getting Justin expelled, but he was frankly tired of the
Hufflepuff's refusal to acknowledge the severity of his actions. What he really needed was
someone that could give him outside help without tracing it back to Slytherin. Justin was silent
for a moment as Slughorn droned on.

“What do you want?” Justin asked in a small voice.

“I need you keep tabs on Cedric Diggory.”

Justin frowned, the displeasure immediate on his face. “Diggory? Why would you want to do
that?”

“I don't care why and you shouldn't either. All I need to know is what you hear from
Diggory. Things he says. Things you overhear. Anything you think would be useful. Most importantly,
he can't know.”

“*There are some noted research scrolls on some of the side effects of the Polyjuice Potion.
One commonly held theory is that long term use of Polyjuice Potion causes the taker of the potion
to inherit some of the traits of the person the user is impersonating. Indeed, the most well known
example would be Boxer the Beautiful who thought he was a woman after more than three months use of
impersonating his wife to fraud the local town**…**..**”*

“Is that all?” Justin asked.

“That's all,” Harry replied. “Remember, he can't know.”

Of course, there were no guarantees that Justin wouldn't tell Cedric. For all Harry knew,
Justin would tell Cedric as soon as he returned to the Hufflepuff Common Room, but that would be
okay. Harry didn't know Cedric that well and as much as he hated it, Diggory was being
abnormally helpful towards him. Whilst he had no evidence otherwise, Harry was still cautious of
someone who seemed to be actively helping him.

“Do you want to meet up for me to tell you?” Justin asked this with a mocking tone of
sarcasm.

“I'll find you.”

* * * * * * * * *

Harry had Tracey and Blaise gather the Slytherins late that night again. They were quieter this
time, hushed tones instead of loud complaints. Harry led them out of the Common Room towards the
lower dungeons. The dungeons were colder, or perhaps, the quiet allowed Harry to feel the chilly
breeze of the lower rooms against his skin.

He had thought about using the Room of Requirement for practices, but they would be monitored
and other students would take notice of the extra time Slytherin were putting in. Preferring to
keep the extra practices discrete for the time being, Harry chose the same empty classroom he had
used to solidify his command the previous night.

They weren't dressed for the occasion, wearing their night garbs instead of their usual
Battle class uniforms, but that might have been for the better. Forcing them to acclimate to less
than ideal circumstances would allow them to adjust easier when faced with different situations in
Battle class. Furthermore, Harry wanted them to feel uncomfortable. He would have to break them
before he could form them into something useful.

“Blaise, what did you do wrong in the last match?” Harry asked as soon as they were settled in
the abandoned classroom.

“I, um, everything?” Blaise rhetorically asked.

“Specifically.”

“We didn't . . . move off the hill?”

Harry shook his head and made a disgusted noise. “Anyone? Did anyone even bother to watch the
replay?”

Down the line, they were all bowed heads and shuffling feet. One lonely voice spoke out as Harry
did his best to imitate Snape's snear.

“We were slow to react to location changes as well as failing to take the initiative in the
match. We were on the back foot the whole time. We had no planning. No execution. Blaise is right.
We did everything wrong,” Draco montonally droned.

Harry barely hid his shock at Draco's rather frank assessment. The fact that he was correct
in all regards was even more surprising. Not for the first time this year, Harry found that Draco
was a far more useful participant than he had been in years prior. If he continued in this same
vein, then Harry would have no choice but to start leaning on him a bit more.

“One person. Pathetic,” Harry said, not bothering to praise him. “Everyone is going to watch the
replays or I will not be taking you into Battle class.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry spotted Blaise shaking his head. The dissension only further
stoked his ire. When would he learn to take things seriously?

“Is there a problem, Zabini?” Harry singled him out.

Blaise was temporarily stunned that Harry would single him out. “I just - you're not really
going to hold us out, right?”

Harry stopped pacing and cast a freezing charm behind his back, lowering the temperature in the
room as he spoke.

“I will freeze you out. You will fail. You will leave Hogwarts.”

Daphne shivered and all of them shifted uncomfortably, a combination of Harry's chilly
declaration and the artificial drop of temperature in the room. Harry cast the charm again, the air
noticeably colder and a slight fog coming from his breath. Unlike them, Harry was dressed in his
Battle class robes, so he was not as cold as the rest.

“Malfoy. Davis. Parkinson.” Harry pointed to one side of the room.

“Greengrass. Nott. Baldock.” Another corner of the room.

“Bulstrode. Goyle. Zabini.” The last corner.

Standing in the center equidistant to each trio, Harry said, “These are your groups. Know them
well because you are going to have to get used to working with each other. Learn each other's
strengths. Their weaknesses. Whenever the other Houses figure out that we've split into three
groups, you'll need to divide further, but take your cues from each other. They need to fear
us. They need to be in awe of us. I will teach you how to do that, but you will follow my every
command. There is no more losing. We will not ever lose again.”

So they began as Harry named each triplet. Tracey's group was Black. Nott's group was
Silver. Blaise's group was Green. Harry thought about giving them alphabetic codes, but he
wanted them to have an identity. It would inspire them as well as have them compete against each
other. Their grouping was purposeful as Harry wanted to have at least one mildly competent person
as the leader of each small group.

Black, which consisted of Tracey, Draco, and Pansy, practiced Disillusionment Charms on each
other. They all picked it up easily and Harry already knew that he would use them as his main
attack force. Draco, in particular, was already ironing out the wand movements so that their
concealment would be better. Harry only nodded at them as he passed their group, trusting them to
continue with their practice.

Silver would be his support group. They had various skills but excelled at nothing. Daphne was
about as average as they came. Pretty in the face, she probably could have been better had she put
any effort into it, but that effort was sorely lacking unless Harry paid special attention to her.
Only then would she amplify her movements, showboating in front of him. Nott had one track and it
was forward. Harry wanted to call him stupidly aggressive, but he knew Nott was more tactical than
that. There was a certain malice in his attacks that Harry could use to their advantage. Last of
all was Sadie Baldock, the quiet, mousy girl that never particularly impressed Harry. She was quiet
and that unnerved him.

Green was a special project of his. What was he supposed to do with two students that obviously
did not belong at Hogwarts? Gregory and Millicent were simply lacking in magical power and so Harry
had to devise a way to deploy them in such a manner that would not render Slytherin down two
students from the beginning. He just needed them to somewhat perfect two or three spells. The first
would be a numbing spell they could use on their own bodies to dampen the effect of the usual
spells that the other Houses would use. The second spell was a radial shield similar to Protego
that would allow them to effectively act as meat shields.

Of course, having those two on their own would be akin to trying to lead a Hippogriff by pulling
its nose. Blaise was supposed to be there to help lead them. As soon as Harry walked over to their
group, however, he could see that Blaise was none too happy to be grouped with the two dumbest
members of Slytherin. His friend was already barking orders at the pair of them, overly criticizing
them as they failed to reproduce the radial shield needed to absorb the blows.

“Goyle, what are you doing? Circular motion and *Clipeum!*” Blaise demonstrated it again,
producing a shimmering silver shield that encompassed the front half of his body.

When Goyle failed to reproduce the spell, Blaise berated him again, growing more frustrated as
the other groups moved onto other spells, discussing their tactics in small voices as Harry floated
in between them.

“Something wrong?” Harry asked.

“No,” Blaise sharply said.

Harry stared directly at him, his jaw clenching as his teeth grinded together.

“Sorry, *Commander*,” Blaise corrected himself.

Harry hit Goyle with a light Stinging Hex. Goyle grunted, surprised by the suddeness of the
pain. Harry stung him again, this time increasing the severity of the spell. Harry exaggeratedly
raised his wand a third time and Goyle responded by gruffly saying, “*Clipeum!**”*

The large Slytherin produced a strong shield, a half bubble that dispelled of Harry's tame
Stinging Hex. Harry nodded at Goyle, a mild form of approval on his face. Gregory looked stunned
that he actually performed the spell and spun in a circle in a way that was comical for a boy his
size. Harry turned to Blaise, his expression cold.

“You need to find the right thing to motivate them. They don't learn like the others.”

“And of course it's up to me to get them up to speed,” Blaise responded.

The bitterness in his voice was impossible to miss. Yet, Harry viewed this as an opportunity for
Blaise. He was a de facto leader as it would be impossible to have Millicent or Gregory lead Silver
group. Harry knew that Snape must have selected Blaise in Leadership for a reason, so he wasn't
going to take it easy on him just because Blaise was paired with the weakest of the group.

“And you will. You have four days until our next Battle class and we will practice every night
until that day.

“Every night?!” Blaise exclaimed.

“Every. Night.”

Harry turned towards the rest of the group, enunciating each word so that they would understand
the gravity of the situation. There were a few grumbles and shocked looks, but no one else said
anything.

*Good*.

“There is one spell I want *all* of you to learn.”

* * * *

At every night, one hour before curfew, the fourth year Slytherins escaped into the lower
dungeons. Collectively, Harry saw progress, but it was hard to estimate the amount of practice they
had made. He had them duel against each other as well as having the groups duel. Unsurprisingly,
Black proved to be the strongest group by the end of the second night. Tracey and Draco were
growing a cohesive partnership while Pansy showed some considerable improvement. Harry had them
practice a variety of spells, but he concentrated on Disillusionment and a variety of other spells
to disguise their movements. They won seven out of ten duels in intergroup skirmishes and they were
only growing stronger.

Silver was a more difficult group to manage. Daphne, in particular, was hard to motivate as she
continually faltered in her efforts to Transfigure objects into moveable shields. Sadie and
Theodore were fine, but Harry needed them to press harder so that Black wouldn't end up
carrying the House every match. Harry practiced with them extensively the third night, making sure
they knew how to Transfigure certain objects out of a variety of material.

Blaise didn't improve the second or third night, constantly berating Gregory and Millicent
for not accomplishing simple things or staying in shape. They never even came close to winning a
duel against the other groups nor did Blaise win a single match. It wasn't for the lack of
enthusiasm however as it was the maddest Harry had ever seen Blaise. On the fourth, and final,
night before their next Battle class, Blaise was nowhere to be found.

Harry waited patiently in the Common Room, prepared to give him a tongue lashing in front of the
others, but he had never returned to the dormitory. Harry carried on with the practice sessions
that night, filling in as Blaise with Green squad. When they returned after practice, Blaise was
sound asleep on his bed. Harry had a thought to wake him and dress him down in front of the others,
but there was nothing to be accomplished at that point.

During breakfast, Harry sat alone again and he noticed that the Slytherins seemed to be grouping
more and more with their squads. Theodore, Sadie, and Daphne all sat together whilst Draco, Tracey,
and Pansy sat in a cluster not far from them. Blaise, who sat next to Tracey, did not seat with
Millicent and Gregory. Harry looked down at his stew, the steam of the broth warming his face as he
contemplated this conundrum.

Looking up, he spotted Hermione talking to Weasley and Thomas, their heads pulled together as
they discussed what must have been the next Battle class. Harry had not even bothered raising her
through the coin they shared as the night practices had taken up almost all of this time and sleep.
His whole group was ragged but far more prepared than they were the first Battle class. Sitting
through Charms was an exercise of patience as Flitwick went over advanced versions of the Summoning
Charm and perfecting it over long distances.

Around noon, all four Houses of Fourth Year were grouped around the entrance of the Room of
Requirement again. Harry waited for Snape, silently hoping that what he was about to do would work.
It had every possibility of backfiring on him if Snape didn't allow it, but this was a test for
the headmaster as much as it was for Harry. As Snape approached and started shepherding the rest of
the students into their staging area until the Board Room was set, Harry stepped in front of
Blaise, looking his taller friend in the eye.

“You're not going in today, Zabini,” Harry said.

The rest of the class paused, but Snape remained ever still, his face betraying no surprise.
Blaise blinked at Harry, his mouth hanging agape as his eyes flittered from Harry to Snape. As the
seconds ticked on, Blaise began to realize that Harry was actually serious.

“You can't do that,” Blaise said slowly, trying to affirm that statement with Snape as he
looked at the headmaster. Snape took a long look at Blaise and Harry before turning on his heel and
walking towards the door to the Room.

“Inside,” he barked.

The students followed slowly, several casting a curious glance towards the two Slytherins. Harry
stood his ground, listening to the whispers behind him and plaintively ignoring him, still staring
Blaise right in the eye.

“Harry, I couldn't do another practice last night. I'm *sorry* I missed it!” Blaise
pleaded. “I'll do better. I'll come to everyone, but you can't hold me out.”

Blaise looked at the rest of the students, save for Hermione, Susan, and Terry, file into the
room. The dark Slytherin took a side step to try and go around Harry, but Harry matched him, his
green eyes cold and his face rock hard.

“Not today, Zabini.”

As Snape reemerged to take the quartet to the Board Room, Harry left Blaise in the middle of the
hallway, his solitary figure tiny in the giant archway that surrounded him. If the others were to
take him seriously, Harry needed to show that he had very little tolerance for subordination, even
from one of his best friends. In time, Blaise might understand, but Harry also knew that his best
friend might also become his former best friend. That was the price to pay to become a leader.

* * * * * * *

The map rose up from the board, a holographic representation of what the rest of the Slytherins,
bar Blaise, were seeing on the ground. There were buildings, tightly packed together that would
spill out into atriums of open space. It was not unlike downtown London and Harry suspected that it
had more than passing resemblance to Diagon Alley.

“*Omnes*.”

“Malfoy, I need you to join Green squad and assume point. Davis and Parkinson, you're going
to be operating in tandem with them, but take your direct orders from me. Ahead of you is a four
way intersection. Sprint to it now and Disillusion yourself on adjacent corner buildings. Green, I
want you go to straight ahead but stay a few paces behind them. Silver, cut through the alley going
northeast and hold.”

In unison, without complaint, they moved. Harry rotated and expanded the board as he gained a
better grasp of the battlefield beyond them. Yes, it was eerily similar to Diagon Alley. There was
no Gringotts nor were there any of the other landmark stores, but the layout was roughly the same.
Harry assumed that the other three Houses would avoid the large intersection in order not to expose
themselves, but he knew that Goyle and Bulstrode were easy bait.

“Malfoy, Disillusionment Charm. Bulstrode and Goyle, come together and hide him as best you
can.”

The disadvantage to the Disillusionment Charm was that upon moving, the user would be visible to
the attentive eye. It was a sort of ripple in their vision, a blurred distortion that looked out of
place, but hidden between the massive bodies of Bulstrode and Goyle, Malfoy would less likely be
seen and any other person would see just Bulstrode and Goyle.

Harry watched them come together on his screen as Malfoy's smaller body was almost
completely blocked out from view unless someone were directly behind them. Malfoy's hands were
on both of their backs as he stayed in contact with each of them to keep the illusion. Switching
his communications to just Silver, Harry relayed his orders.

“I need you to start Transfiguring everything you can. Nets and cannons. Make sure to stay
hidden as best you can. Stay in that alcove if you need to. Get a good stockpile ready because
we're coming in contact soon.”

Smashing some more buttons on the board, Harry commanded, “Black. Keep your head on a swivel,
but *do not* show yourselves. Only hit them with spells when their backs are turned. They
won't know you're there for a while.”

Taking a deep breath and expanding the board as far back as he could, Harry began in
earnest.

“Green. Right up the middle.”

They moved slowly, dumbly, presenting an easy moving target. Hermione wouldn't bite first.
She would make Gryffindor wait, recognizing that it was far too easy. But Terry was eager. Terry
wanted to impress. Terry would dive in headfirst.

A flicker of blue darted across the outer field of his omniscient view. Harry quickly rotated
his board so that he would be facing them, yet expanded it so that he could view attacks from the
rear.

“Black, hold steady. Green, numbing charms and shields ready. Slight adjustment to your west.
Silver, prepare yourself.”

Bulstrode and Goyle rotated a bit, still looking like they were stumbling through the exposed
area. If Ravenclaw were already close, then the other two Houses would be within close proximity.
The key would be dispatching Ravenclaw until they were ready to about face to the other two
Houses.

“Commander,” Tracey said in a hushed voice.

Three blue figures sprang around the corner, predictably firing out at Goyle and Bulstrode.
Fortunately, their positioning was perfect and Goyle took the first spell and luckily it wasn't
a Stunner. It did draw blood, exemplified by the sudden crimson Goyle's hologram. Their shields
were up for the second spell and Malfoy fired an accurate Stunner underneath Bulstrode's armpit
to strike down one Ravenclaw.

From where they started, the other five Ravenclaws spilled out into the larger alley, splitting
into three and two on opposite sides as they also fired at Bulstrode and Goyle. Again, their
positioning was spot on as they either absorbed the spell in their body or took it with the shield.
They were a little further out this time, so Malfoy opted not to hit him with a spell.

It occurred to Harry that it was highly unlikely that those disguised in a Disillusionment Charm
would show up on the opposing holograms. If it did, someone would have struck either Tracey or
Pansy as they were both out in the open. Making a mental note to have everyone in Disillusionment
Charms for the next match, Harry relayed his next set of orders.

“Silver, stay pat. Black, get ready.”

Goyle and Bulstrode were backing themselves against a corner, drawing the Ravenclaws in. Malfoy
stayed tucked behind them, timing his spells so that it didn't look like he was even there,
using the massive frames of the two other Slytherins to keep himself disguised. Harry would have to
compliment him when this was over for his good thinking.

Hufflepuffs suddenly swarmed out from a house, cutting off the five Ravenclaws and engaging them
head on. Predictably, they moved as one, all nine figures overwhelming the five Ravenclaws not two
blocks from where Silver was waiting. He could see their figures starting to stir, itching to poke
their heads out to see the commotion nearby.

“Hold,” Harry said in a stern voice.

*Where is Gryffindor?*

If Harry was asking his House to be patient, Hermione must have been demanding it. It was his
turn to draw her out.

“Green, move towards the battle. Malfoy, keep your eyes behind you.”

“Yes, Commander,” Malfoy responded.

Green moved towards the heart of the fight, minding the three Ravenclaws that were now ignoring
them and cutting through the back alleys to help out the rest of their Housemates. Terry was
panicking, reacting to the situation instead of sticking to his plan. Susan was playing it simple,
keeping everyone together and trying to overwhelm with good timing and numbers.

As Green advanced, Harry watched Malfoy suddenly pull on Goyle's shirt and turn him towards
a spell speeding their way. That broke their unified shell as four Gryffindors attacked. They were
spread in a fan, making it difficult to take them down at once. Malfoy grabbed a fistful of
Bulstrode's robes as well, pulling them backwards and away from the advancing Gryffindors.

“Tracey, five Gryffindors are going to emerge right to your left. They're trying to flank
Green. Take them out on sight.”

Harry hoped that he read Hermione right and his theory was confirmed as the five other
Gryffindors tried to eliminate the backpedaling Green squad. They made the mistake of all emerging
from one alley as Tracey pummelled them with Stunning spells, hitting at least three of them. Her
Disillusionment Charm revealed, Tracey took cover behind an alcove.

“Silver, Banishing charms on my mark. Aim towards the northeast. They're about five blocks
up. Baldock, sight them.”

Sadie poked her head out and counted down the number of blocks. They adjusted the angles of
their wands as they started banishing the collection of nets and transfigured cannons they had been
building in the down time. They arced through the sky and forced the group of four Gryffindors to
push towards the middle of the exposed area, still in pursuit of Green.

“Tracey, fall back and wait to intercept the remaining Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. Keep yourself
hidden. Pansy, stay still.”

The Gryffindors, trying desperately to stay off the volley of nets and cannons falling behind
them, were not a few paces from Pansy. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry watched Goyle's
image disappear from the screen.

“Goyle's down, Commander,” Malfoy said.

Malfoy kept Bulstrode in front of him, forgoing his camoflouge and shooting spells at a rapid
pace from behind her. He was using her as a shield to great effect, hitting two more Gryffindors
with great marksmanship.

“Silver, adjust and using Banishing charms all the way to the west. Dispense of everything and
move towards the alley where we started. Cut off the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs with Davis.”

Tracey cut off the two Ravenclaws before they could even reinforce the rest of their House and
Hufflepuff took care of the rest, eliminating the Ravenclaws. As Susan's group moved north to
the Gryffindors in the center of the square, Silver arrived on time to surprise and eliminate them
as well. All that remained were three Gryffindors against eight Slytherins.

“All squads, break and attack.”

In the end, only Weasley was left, cornered into a house that Harry had a thought to collapse.
He didn't want a repeat of the Justin fiasco, making it look like he wanted to kill Weasley.
Instead, Harry waited it out, stationing the Slytherins at every exit. Even a Disillusionment Charm
wouldn't save Weasley.

“Well done everyone,” Harry said as they waited.

Contemplating for a moment if he wanted to do this, Harry made his decision. Slytherin had to be
more than just winners. They needed to be revered and feared. Slytherin had to represent a bigger
entity than they actually were. The things made of legends and a House that frightened others at
the very whisper of their name.

“Malfoy, use the spell,” Harry ordered, giving his top performing member the honors. Draco
spelled forward and pointed his wand straight to the sky.

“*LOSTREGO!**”*

A flash of light erupted from the end of Malfoy's wand as Harry admired the second spell he
created. It wasn't useful for anything tactical, but the message it sent would prove to be
invaluable.

Colored in green, a hazy mist came together in the sky, a slight sparkle to it. It even showed
up on his board and Harry took a step back to admire it, a rare smile coming to his face. Hanging
there above the house was a bright thunderbolt, an almost perfect image of the one etched onto his
forehead. It was monstrous in size, engulfing everyone's vision and Harry could only imagine
the horror on Weasley's face as he gazed upon the thunderbolt in the sky, a symbol of
unquestionable victory.

They would not soon forget the House of Slytherin.

* * * * * * *

**A/N: I know I missed my mark by a long shot. I apologize for the delay and hope that this
chapter is enough to hold you over until the next one. I****'****m hoping for a quick
update on a date that all of you EG fans should know. Enjoy and leave a review!**

**Projected Update Time: November 1, 2013. Midnight EST.**
 Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7
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31. False Confidence
--------------------



His footsteps echoed with each step, a soft and assured thump that bounced off the walls and
returned to their source in a matter of seconds. Harry turned a corner and approached the Hospital
Wing, steeling himself at the door and resurrecting some of his Occlumency to still the inner
turmoil. He opened the wide swinging double doors with both hands, immediately spotting the cluster
of students with battle robes pocked with green patches.

They quieted as he approached, smiles disappearing off faces as a somberness overtook the
corridor. Harry's footsteps seemed even louder, each hard echo contrasting the silence of the
Slytherins grouped around a bed. Harry stopped short, looking at the supine Goyle. Even the other
Houses were watching with abject curiosity.

“Are you going to be alright, Goyle?” Harry asked.

“Yes, sir,” Goyle said slowly.

“Good. We're going to need you next time.”

“I'll be ready.”

Harry nodded at him, keeping his hands still by his side. The rest of them looked at him
expectantly, and Harry eye's wandered to each member of his House, taking in their reactions.
At last, he nodded and opened his mouth to speak.

“No practice tonight or tomorrow night. I'll see you Sunday night in the Common Room before
curfew.”

Harry turned on his heel and walked away without saying another word. Victory would not forge a
bond between them. He had to keep them at a distance, controlling them at arm's length and
without hesitation. But as he left, he could hear the Slytherins congratulating each other and
laughing about their time off. Harry allowed a smile to himself that would not seen by others.

His pocket heated up and Harry was unsurprised to see Hermione requesting his presence. She was
most fired up after a loss, immediately seeking to rectify her mistakes. In truth, it wasn't
that she had made a mistake. Harry had just outmaneuvered and outsmarted her. Trudging down the
various staircases, he contemplated his next moves.

The groups of three were a good idea, allowing him to direct each squadron with a unique
identity. Furthermore, it could still be hidden at least until the next Battle class. The loss of
Blaise disguised the identified groups. Handling Blaise would be a delicate tightrope. It
wasn't as if he could banish Blaise from Slytherin or hold him out of Battle class forever.
Eventually, Snape would make him or the Slytherins would see it as a grudge or a fued. No matter
how subordinate Blaise was, Harry still needed him.

He would also have to find a way to continue these battles without micromanaging every single
movement. There was no possible way he could come up with a new idea every time. It was unfeasible.
A leadership structure would be the best way to delegate his tasks, but then there was the question
of who to give command to. There was no way he could let them choose. Everything had to flow down
from his orders.

Hermione interrupted his thoughts by stepping into the hallway, tossing him an annoyed look.

“You're late,” she said as she tapped the wall seven times and opened the secret
entrance.

“You didn't specify a time.”

“I didn't realize *as soon as possible* had any other meanings.”

Harry chuckled, amused by Hermione's barbed retorts. She did not take losing well.

“That neat little trick of yours will only work once,” she said as soon as they entered the
cave.

“Once is all I needed.”

Hermione was pacing relentlessly, her arms crossed and a permanent scowl etched upon her face.
Battle was their last class of the day, so Harry took some much needed time to relax and sat down
heavily on the chair, slumping until his head was laying on the backrest. He had not gotten more
than four hours of sleep in the past five days and it was starting to catch up to him. The
tranquility of the lake overhead soothed his mind and allowed him some.

Meanwhile, Hermione rambled to herself, “You subverted general tendencies, opting to break up
your House into a subset of groups. Disillusionment charms were a neat trick, but Detection spells
will override that. Bulstrode and Goyle as meat shields were a good touch too. You had a lot of
good ideas, Harry, but you could've only done it if you were confident they could operate
independently or micromanaged every one of their moves. Is that what you did?”

“I can't very well tell you, now can I?”

“What happened to cooperation?” she asked.

“We can help each other, Hermione. I'm not going to tell you my entire strategy.”

“Yes, *Commander*.”

Harry cringed at the moniker. “You heard about that?”

Hermione snorted. “Yeah, I heard about it. Don't worry, it probably works for you.”

Harry shrugged in response. “It easily could have backfired. They could have laughed in my
face.”

“No, they wouldn't do that. It works you for because you have that aura. The Boy Who Lived.
The Bringer of Lightning. You're already pretty mythical in their eyes. Not to mention binding
them under that sort of leadership is a pretty good tactic for getting them to listen to you.”

“Are you thinking about doing the same thing, Commander Granger?” Harry teased.

She shook her head, her bushy tresses flying about. “No, I can't do that. They wouldn't
believe me. They only listen to me out of default. Even if they did obey your every order, that
doesn't expect how good they were at it. In comparison to last Battle class, they were well
drilled. Too well drilled to just be slavishly following your every whim.”

Harry was glad that she didn't seem to know about their extra practices. He had purposefully
had them late at night in an unchecked corridor to keep out of the way. It would have been easier
to hold it in the Room of Requirement during normal hours, but that would have taken away the
element of surprise. In the future though, Harry had no choice but to start utilizing the room for
more advanced scenarios.

“They can be better,” Harry responded.

“I'm sure they will, but don't think you're the only one who can come up with a
couple of tricks.”

“They're not tricks,” Harry corrected.

Hermione wrinkled her nose at the semantics but let it go. Instead, she pulled a few parchments
out of her satchel and slammed them down on her desk. Harry raised his eyebrows at her, leaning
forward to examine one of the documents.

“They're bare bones, but it's what I could get in such a short period of time.
There's no way I can figure this out on my own. Between classes, Battle, and coming up with
ways to beat you, there's not enough time in the day to deconstruct and reconstruct each of
these spells and transfigurations. Unless I had a Time Turner of course,” she added as an
afterthought.

“Unlikely,” Harry muttered.

Hermione had procured vague notes on communication devices and the charms and runes needed to
configure them. They were obviously above their level, referencing spells that were nowhere near
their repertoire as well as advanced runic knowledge that was ahead of their syllabus schedule. As
Harry delved further, there were even more complexities around designing something that could
possibly replicate the Board room. It was obvious that the spells were intricate, given that the
Board room and all of its magic were constructed by the combined talents of the Hogwarts
professors.

“It doesn't need to be an exact replica, just something like it. Something we can use,”
Harry said.

“I don't have the time, Harry, and neither do you. This is a few years in the making at the
very least just to learn everything we have to do!”

“What if I got you another hand?”

“Tracey?” Hermione snorted. “Forgive me for my insensitivity but no.”

“Not Tracey. Someone else. Someone that I trust and might give us a bit different perspective on
creating some of these things.”

“I hope you're not going to say Blaise,” she dryly added.

“No,” Harry shook his head. “He's a different problem I have to deal with. Let me introduce
you to her and you can judge whether we can bring her on board.”

“*Her*?” Hermione asked in surprise.

* * * * * * *

Harry waited until most of the kids turned in to confront Blaise. How he handled this situation
was important not only to him but to the continuing improvement of Slytherin. Yet, he wasn't
particularly sure of how this scenario would unfold, so he wanted to do it without a crowd. He had
already shamed Blaise a plenty. Now would be the time to heal old wounds and bring him back under
his control.

“Blaise,” Harry said in a soft undertone.

Harry was in the Common Room, waiting underneath the winding staircases that lead to the
dormitories. Blaise had been out late again, not even bothering to return for dinner. He was
undoubtedly avoiding Harry. Even if he was unmotivated, it was at the very least embarrassing to be
cowed in front of the rest of the Fourth Years. Harry expected anger.

Blaise froze at the sound of his voice, his back coiling together and his shoulders tensing. His
head swiveled each and every way, trying to locate Harry until his eyes adjusted to the darkness
and found the green-eyed boy underneath the stairs. He hesitated, not sure whether he should
proceed up the staircase or address the matter at hand.

“Do you understand why I did what I did?”

Blaise hesitated, his face carefully managed but his brown eyes fierce. He stood a great bit
taller than Harry, a sinewy muscle that looked intimidating shrouded against the backdrop of light.
Yet, it was Harry who made the decisions and it was going to be Harry who decided what Blaise's
future role would be. It was not lost upon Harry that their friendship was dangling by a very thin
thread.

“You didn't have to do that. Not in front of everyone.”

Harry bit his tongue, repressing the urge to berate Blaise for thinking about his pride first.
If that was truly what he was hurt about, then maybe Harry had truly overestimated his abilities.
But Blaise had been his friend for quite a while and he had gone into Battle class more than enough
times with him to know that he could possibly be his number two. Application was the issue.

“I did it because you didn't come to practice. There are to be no deviations from what I
say.”

“So that's really how it is now? It's not an act?”

Truthfully, it was an act. He had no real power to affect change. He couldn't dismiss anyone
from Slytherin. Though Snape had done nothing would Harry held Blaise back, Harry couldn't
imagine that the headmaster would let that act continue. The punishments for not obeying his
commands and orders would have to be carried out by himself and with brutal efficiency. No, the
only real power he had was their belief in him and with that, their belief that he was *never*
to be disobeyed.

“No games. No tricks. This is how it is now.”

Blaise nodded as he averted his eyes, looking at anything but Harry. Neither of them spoke for
what seemed to be a handful of minutes. They just stood there, waiting for the other to break the
silence. Harry remained resolute, a stillness achieved within him via Occlumency. Finally, it was
Blaise who broke.

“Yes, Commander,” he whispered.

* * * * * * *

The next following weeks fell into a routine if not exhausting pattern. Schedules were still
held in secret for the first week until Dean Thomas happened upon them in the dungeons. After that,
Harry was forced to hold it in the Room of Requirements at normal times where others could observe
either in person or via the Stationaries. In the room, Harry had them practice in two large groups
as to not give away their particular squadrons.

They rapidly improved, picking up various spells and adapting to their roles. Blaise fell in
line, listening obediently and marshalling Green squad with increasing efficiency. But Blaise
didn't speak to Harry outside of the necessary conversations in practice and in Battle class.
He remained in conversations with Tracey, Draco, and Pansy as the four of them regularly sat
together at lunch and in class. Harry would have preferred if Blaise sat with Gregory and
Millicent, but he could only imagine how much conversation those two could hold.

They won their next Battle class in though with far more difficulty this time. Hermione had
indeed adapted to Harry's splintering style and went so far as to individually manage each
member of Gryffindor. While it created much confusion and disrupted his Disillusionment tactics
with Detector spells, Harry suspected that they didn't follow precise orders as some of the
Gryffindors would overextend themselves, an error compounded by their singularity.

Still, in combination with Terry's still over complicated maneuvers and Susan's lack of
ingenuity, Harry managed to win the Battle by surviving with four Slytherins, most notably, the
whole of Black squad intact. Hermione had refused to speak with him for a few days after, growing
more irritable with each loss. He would spot her leaving the Room of Requirement after each of
Slytherin's practice sessions and whenever he brought up the topic of meeting in the cave again
to go over their research project, she would dismiss him.

In the next Battle class, Hermione employed transfiguration to the maximum of her House's
skills, changing the environment to suit their strengths. Harry was again reliant on Black
squad's increasing skill to navigate a rather mazy series of magical traps and feints by
Gryffindor. Every object in the Room of Requirement, in here a replica of the Forbidden Forest, was
a potential trap. She had them mirror objects, transfigure various items to disguise their
locations. Poor Terry ran them straight into another trap as they tried to outflank Gryffindor,
only for his whole group to be split down the middle and separated. Yet, Draco came up with the
ingenious idea of creating falsified images of themselves, a spell that Hermione knew.

They would first use spells against the duplicated image and find that it was a distraction.
Then, in a masterstroke, Draco pretended to be one of the duplicated images and Hermione had them
belay their attack to look for the portended source. It was only after Draco had stunned at least
four people that they realized the duplicate was in fact the original. Harry congratulated the
blond Slytherin in front of the whole House at the end of the class and as he left the room, he
could hear their whoops and hollers of congratulations for Draco.

This time, his pocket heated up as Hermione's coin reflected her desire to meet.

*Bring your extra set of hands*.

Harry brought the person to their designated meeting spot in the upper towers of Hogwarts. It
was probably an overreaction to their secret location in the dungeons, but Hermione would be the
one to decide whether or not the person would see the cave. Harry opened the door to the classroom
and looked down at his watch, noting there were ten minutes before their final class of the
day.

“Luna Lovegood?” Hermione incredulously asked as the Ravenclaw emerged from behind Harry.

“Yes, I would be.”

Luna must have been a strange sight, dressed not in the usual dark garb of Hogwarts robes, but
in a white dress made of a thick material accented with little patches of blue and green. Her
bottlecap necklace was around her neck and loopy, golden earrings only served to accentuate her
eccentricity. Yet, Harry did not forget the object she made at the end of last year and after all,
she was the one who had lead him on the right path to break Hermione's cypher.

Hermione looked imploringly at Harry, expecting him to say something, but Harry gestured that
she should be the one to speak Luna. He already vouched for her and there was nothing that he could
really say to convince Hermione otherwise. With an exasperated sigh, Hermione approached Luna,
bringing herself up to full height in what looked to be an amusing form of intimidation.

“What are the problems of transfiguring larger complex objects into simpler pieces?” Hermione
fired.

“There is always a slight loss in conversation rate when you convert any unlike objects. For
larger, complex pieces, the complexity increases as you differentiate the number of objects. You
would think that it would make an easier transfiguration into simpler objects, but the truth of the
matter is that any unlike change will result in a less than desired conversion percentage. It would
be preferable to transfigure large, complex objects to a large simple object, thus avoiding the
bottleneck of multiple objects.”

Harry coughed vehemently, hiding the smile behind his hand.

Hermione narrowed his eyes at him and continued. “You have applied a charm to six items. The
charm is ineffective in two of them and at half efficiency on three of them, leaving only one fully
functioning object. How would you improve the other five?”

“Given the parameters that it is the same charm on exact replica objects, I would have to
conclude that it is the casting of the charm that would be the error. Applied charms, especially
without runes, have a very specific procedure that must be followed with a less than one percent
margin of error in order to achieve the true state of the object. Furthermore, any misapplied
charms could result in disastrous and often dangerous items. It is advisable to be rid of all
ineffective objects.”

Hermione continued in the same vein, hammering Luna with questions that were intentionally
superfluous and difficult. Yet, Luna handled them with aplomb even when Harry got lost in the
technicalities. She never wavered under Hermione's glare or condescending tone, even going so
far as to correct her on some solutions. After a while, Harry intervened and pointed at his
watch.

“Almost time for Theory, Hermione.”

Hermione relented, taking a step back as she eyed Luna up and down.

“How much has Harry told you?” she asked.

“He said he needed help with a project. I owe Harry my help,” Luna answered.

“And do you know that it would perhaps be a burden to both of us to have you know that we meet
often?”

“I have very few friends, Hermione. Of the few I have, none I would trust with this
knowledge.”

There was finally a break in Hermione's hard approach as she bit her lip from any more
patronizing questions. Looking at Harry, she nodded once and excused herself, presumably leaving
for Theory. Harry waited until she left to smile at Luna and clasped the smaller girl on the
shoulder.

“She's not so bad after a while,” Harry said.

Luna smiled serenely.

“Oh, yes she is,” she replied.

* * * * * * * * * *

The windy tower where Flamel held his class was colder than the previous week, the chilly wind
snapping around their robes. Flamel, buried under what must have been three layers of robes waited
patiently for them, leaning against a windowsill, his scraggly beard swaying slightly with the
breeze.

Terry barely spared Harry a glance, a haggard and unfocused glaze upon his face. Among the four
of them, he had suffered the worst losses during Battle classes, routinely having Ravenclaw
eliminated before all of the other Houses. The climb towards this tower was exhausting enough
without thinking of all of the other responsibilities during the descent. Likewise, Susan's and
Hermione's minds were elsewhere as Flamel once again delayed the start of class.

“Levitation Charms!” Flamel brightly spoke.

They all looked at each other, wondering what their professor would want with one of the first
spells they ever learned.

“Well, don't just look at each other. Perform them on your chairs,” Flamel said.

There was still a momentary pause as no one quite moved out of their chairs yet. Flamel was
looking at them with his usual smile on his wrinkled face, a patient and expectant visage betraying
no other emotion. Slowly, Harry stood up and performed a Levitation Charm, swishing and flicking
like he was supposed to. He turned to Flamel, trying to gauge what exactly the professor
wanted.

Flamel nodded back at him and said, “Now lower it.”

Harry hoped that he wouldn't ask him to levitate it again.

“Now levitate it again!”

Luck was not on his side.

They continued for the rest of the period, levitating and lowering their chars with a steadfast
repetition that Flamel did not allow to discontinue. Bored out of his wits, Harry started
levitating it different heights, letting it fall instead of gradually lowering it to the ground to
entertain himself. Flamel quickly snapped at him, telling him to focus. Harry complied but let his
eyes wander. Terry was monotonously performing the task, his mind no doubt within Battle class
while Hermione pointedly stared at Flamel, trying to will her thoughts to the professor. Of course,
she could have performed Legilimency on him, but that would give away all their practice.

A sudden clatter interrupted Harry's grazing thoughts as Susan's chair collapsed on the
floor and broke one of its legs. The Hufflepuff girl frowned at her chair as if it did something
wrong and attempted to levitate it again. Noticeably, her hand wavered and though she tried to hide
it, there was the tiniest show of effort on her part. They must have performed it over one hundred
times at this point.

“Keep going, Susan,” Flamel encouraged.

Yet, with each passing levitation, Harry begun to realize what exactly Flamel was trying to
accomplish. Susan tired out first, each levitation failing to reach the height before it. She was
sweating, her face a contortion of concentration as the simple spell began to wear her down. Terry
was next, suddenly snapped out of his lethargy as his chair visibly wobbled during its ascent.
Harry was fascinated by their troubles even as he started feeling the resistance of his own
magic.

It wasn't as if he started performing as poorly as Susan or Terry, but he could *feel*
it. There was a palpable weight as he levitated his chair for what must have been the hundred and
fiftieth time. It increased in feeling as if someone were adding bricks onto the chair as he tried
to settle into a rhythm, willing the pressure to go away. Next to him, Hermione was deteriorating,
a gap growing between each Levitation Charm. Harry started pacing himself as well, unsure on
whether or Flamel was reading something into their reaction of their diminishing magic or simply
determining who could outlast the other.

Harry settled with his Occlumency, his mind passively recreating defenses and perhaps retaining
whatever magic he had left. He had felt magical exhaustion before, the emptiness inside coupled
with the physical exhaustion that accompanied it. He persisted, blocking the world out until they
were blinking black dots out of the corner of his eyes and that was left was the brown, wooden
chair.

His chair suddenly splintered apart as Hermione's chair flew into it, shattering both of
them into splintered pieces. Harry dropped his wand arm, trying to steady his breathing while
Hermione bent over with her hands on her knees, exhaling heavily as her hair covered her head.
Flamel, unmoved from his place by the window eyed her curiously.

“Dismissed,” Flamel said.

Harry looked at his watch and found that it was indeed time to leave. He looked at Hermione,
trying to catch her eye but she had yet to move from her bent position. The splintered pieces of
the two chairs lay mixed on the ground and Harry approached them, wondering why Hermione would
destroy both of their chairs.

“I said dismissed,” Flamel repeated, his voice containing a bit more glower to it.

Hermione finally stood straight, huffing one last time as she caught her breath. Harry looked at
her in the eye, green meeting brown, and raised a solitary eyebrow. She fixed him with a stern look
and shook her head, but he didn't know how to interpret it. Hermione left without another word,
not wanting another scolding from Flamel and left Harry with his own thoughts.

*What was Flamel playing at?*

* * * * * * *

The next few weeks was a blur to Harry, a mixture of Battle class, practice sessions, and more
peculiar lessons by Flamel. Slytherin continued their dominance, though they did finally lose to
Gryffindor through a mistake on Harry's part. He had misjudged Hermione's intentions and
overcommitted in what turned out to be a trap. The mood was despondent among his House mates
afterwards and Harry had to break his persona for just a moment to reassure them that they were
going to be fine.

More and more students watched their practices and Harry noticed that Cedric had begun to attend
nearly every one as well. Harry had yet to find a quiet moment to speak to Justin as the Hufflepuff
always seemed to be busy or surrounded by others of his kind. Harry wasn't too worried for the
moment, but made a mental note to book extra practices in varied rooms in the dungeons. It became a
cat and mouse of game of what he showed to the public and what he practiced in the darkness.

Of course, the double practices exhausted everyone and Harry slipped up in Potions while they
were studying the Polyjuice Potion and was subsequently scolded by Slughorn. Harry promised not to
make the same error, but all he wanted to do was fall asleep. Though he had a busy schedule, Harry
had never felt more lonely. Blaise did not speak to him at all as Harry had to relay any
information, including practice times and locations, through Tracey. Tracey did her best to speak
with him in private, but neither he nor she could afford to be seen as making exceptions for each
other.

His sessions in the cave with Hermione had also lessened as she grew more and more frustrated
with each of his victories. Even when he tried to raise her to continue working on their project
with Luna, she had declined, citing studying and extra practice. Harry knew that her weakness in
Battle class resided in her inability to command the Gryffindor House with precision. They
didn't like listening to her and only obliged her command without realizing the true objective.
Yet, he doubted that a Commander Granger would hold the same clout that he did. She was right. His
cult of personality worked to his favor and undermined hers.

Flamel did not assuage the fatigue with his lessons as he seemed hell bent on exhausting
whatever magic they had left in his class. Two weeks in a row he had them performing first year
spells until they could no longer do it. Hermione had not done anything as drastic as subvert his
own accomplishments, but he could tell that she was also perturbed by his perceived advantage in
sustaining spells over her.

At the end of October, a notice was put out over the school that the delegations from
Beauxbatons and Durmstrang would be arriving the next day. There was an excited buzz in the school
that flew from student to student, but Harry was just glad that classes ended early so he could
finally get some sleep. Harry informed Tracey and Draco that practice was dismissed for the day and
bid everyone an early goodnight, collapsing in his bed at approximately five in the afternoon.

As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was sucked into a dream. He was walking through a hallway
with various coats of arms on either side. The cobbled stone gave away that it was Hogwarts, but
Harry had no control of where he was traveling. His feet moved out of its own accord, bringing him
through the Great Hall and into the main courtyard.


The sky was dark and starless, an unnatural black blanket that smothered the horizon. Yet, there
was a glow, a source of light near the highest tower of the school. As Harry looked up, he shielded
his eyes, so bright was the light. Peeking through his fingers, he could instantly see the
emblazoned symbol in the sky, shimmering brightly in place of the moon.

It was his lightning bolt, towering over Hogwarts as the only source of light in the dark night.
It seemed to increase in brightness and Harry had to close his eyes as his hand was unable to cover
the entirety of the glow. A thundering clap sounded overhead, making Harry jump as the rumble
started. It originates seemingly from within his chest, growing until the loose pebbles on the
ground shook in perfect harmony. Then, the top tower, where Flamel taught, crumbled like a stack of
bread. Piece by piece, brick by brick, the castle fell apart.

He heard a voice and looked down at the archway of the Great Hall to see a solitary figure
walking towards him even as the castle crumbled before her. Hermione, dressed in her nightgown,
walked right up to him, calm and collected. She looked back, almost disinterestedly at the
collapsing castle.

“Is this yours or mine?” she asked.

“What?” Harry asked in confusion.

“Is this your dream or mine?” Hermione repeated.

Harry looked as the castle imploded from within, debris flying sky high as the rumbling reach a
pitched tone. It was as if the earth were shattering apart and Hogwarts was in the middle of it.
The gnarled stone and boulders hovered in the sky, falling in an exaggerated motion as foundation
splintered beneath him. Harry looked at Hermione, still cool and unmoved as a giant boulder hurdled
toward them.

“I think this is my dream.”

* * * * * * * *

“What is their project? What do they plan on doing?”

“I do not know. I did not hear of any conversation they had regarding the project. I am certain
of that.”

“Then how are they communicating? Is it through the Protean Charm? Is there something else
we're unaware of?”

“Do you think they've figured out our method of surveillance?”

“No, they do not have the capable magic of detecting the House Elves. It is more likely that
they agreed to it sometime prior, at a point where we were unable to detect it. Still, I think
it's likely that they are trying to replicate the Board Room.”

“But to what purpose? And of what use outside Battle class?”

“The boy wishes to initiate his own force. To what end I have yet to ascertain, but that much is
certain.”

“And the girl? What of her involvement? Do you still disapprove?”

“She is a moving target. On her day, she can be asset, but as she showed in Flamel's
classroom, she is also envious of what the boy can do. Jealous of his command as well.”

“Do you think he has grown too complacent with his victories?”

“I think that it is time to test him further. I plan on initiating some
more...difficult...scenarios after the spectacle of the Goblet of Fire.”

“Indeed. I have constructed some other scenarios. Ones that we have not tried before.”

“Meaning?”

“Other years. Older years. A different subset of students that Potter is not well practiced on.
After all, he will not know every enemy he faces.”

“Are you privy to something I am not? I am in favor of an accelerated curriculum, but I have not
known you to be.”

“His magical levels are starting to become exponential. You saw the way he handled Flamel's
test. Nicolas told me that he had never seen a student maintain such concentration even after the
number of times he applied Power Limiters to him. He was shrugging off Nicolas' magic!”

“Did he know?”

“He did not. It only makes his feat even more extraordinary. His mastery of command is
unparalleled at such a young age. I know we have spoken of having him learn his abilities, but
never did I foresee it so young. I thought he would be ready at the end of his full
curriculum…”

“So do you think he can handle the tournament?”

“The Goblet is being closely watched, especially by those in the Ministry who do not approve of
our particular methodology. Nonetheless, if he submits his name, I will ensure that he is picked.
The half-Veela and the Bulgarian are special in their own right. He would do well to learn from
the.”

“Learn from them or defeat them?”

“They are not exclusive. But there is something else that I must discuss. It is about the map.
The map that his father had.”

“What of it?”

“There was a name that appeared, albeit briefly. I can not tell if it was a trick of the eye or
a temporary moment of madness. It has not since reappeared, but I can not rid myself of the
image.”

“A name that...shouldn't belong?”

“A name that should not be here. A terrible name. An awful name.”

“You must be more sure than to half believe that it was the trick of the eye.”

“It was for the briefest of seconds, but the more I think about it, the more it lingers and
festers in the back of my mind. I can not ignore the feeling that it was not a trick. I can not
ignore the *possibility* of it.”

“You need to make sure. You need to make...absolutely...sure.”

“A name. It is a terrifying thing.”

* * * * * *

**Projected update time: 35 days**
 Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7
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32. No Heroes
-------------



Hogwarts had never been more alive, buzzing in anticipation of their visitors. The house elves,
rarely seen, were flying around around their ankles, hastily preparing the last decorations and
ornaments. Classes were cancelled for the day and the students took the opportunity to roam the
halls, staking out spots to see the new arrivals. The massive flow of students crowding the
hallways did allow Harry the opportunity of finding Justin and indicating that they should meet.
Harry chose to meet in secret, unsure of how others would react should they see him holding a long
conversation with the Hufflepuff.

It was a bright and perfect day, sunny enough to negate the slight chill in the air without the
accompanying humidity usually associated with the heat. In another one of the high towers, Harry
awaited Justin with his wand already in his hand. It was not so long ago that the Hufflepuff had
attempted to kill one of his friends and the potential danger was not lost on Harry. Though he
doubted any sort of conflict, a sizable dose of paranoia wasn't unhealthy.

The Great Lake rippled below, a soft cascading wave pushing through. It was strange to think
that leagues below, there was a cave that lay directly underneath the lake. It must have been built
long before their time, during the conception of Hogwarts. He could see students milling about in
groups like tiny, little ants as well as the steam rising from the chimneys in Hogsmeade. He pushed
some of his hair behind his ears, reminding himself to get it cut before it became a
distraction.

“Potter.”

Justin's voice broke him out of his reverie and Harry looked over his shoulder to see him
standing in the doorway. Harry subtly turned so that one hand looked as if it were bracing him
against the windowsill but in reality, he was holding his wand tightly. Justin walked up to the
windowsill and Harry kept his front to him as the Hufflepuff leaned his elbows against the stone
and peeked out over the edge.

“So, what do you want to know?” Justin asked as he looked at the students milling about the
lake.

“Has Diggory said anything in particular to his friends about me? Is there a reason he comes to
watch us practice so much?”

Justin shrugged. “None so far as I know. He talks about you. Discusses some of your strategies.
Nothing out of the ordinary as far as I know.”

“Just a peaked interest in me?”

“Cedric's always been sort of like that. He likes to be prepared.”

“You mean to tell me he has nothing else better to do than to watch some Fourth Year
practice?”

Justin rolled his eyes. “As you know, you have a way of attracting attention.”

Harry frowned, leaning his elbows against the stone ledge as he peered over the edge as well. A
lazy tentacle rose out of the water, splashing in the middle of the lake as some of the students
pointed and laughed. It was a picturesque scene of tranquility, something not usually associated
with Hogwarts these days.

“What else can you tell me about him?” Harry asked.

“You know, if I were neutral about this whole thing, it'd be easy to say that you're the
one that seems to have an unhealthy obsession on keeping tabs on Cedric.”

“It might be cynical, but when someone starts helping you out of the blue and giving you helpful
advice for no reason, I tend to take pause. You say Cedric likes to be prepared, well so do I.”

Justin chuckled, his shoulders shaking in unison. “Have you ever considered that he might just
be doing it out of the goodness of his own heart?”

Harry mustered the glare he used when addressing his house and Justin raised his eyebrows at his
somber expression. Justin was picking at the cuff of his robes, a sign of nervousness. Good. Harry
wanted him to be nervous.

“What's there to say that you don't already know? Not all of us have deep, dark
secrets,” he said with a tinge of bitterness.

“Humour me.”

Exasperatedly, Justin continued, “He's a golden boy. I don't know anyone that
*doesn't* like him, besides Slytherins of course. He gets good grades, he's top ten in
the Master List, he's the leader of his year, almost every single girl in Hufflepuff fancies
him. In some ways, he's worse than you.”

“Sounds too good to be true.”

Justin raised his eyebrows again at the skepticism in Harry's voice. “Whatever you may
think, Diggory is the real deal. You're wasting your time here.”

“Maybe,” Harry said, unconvinced. “Keep an eye out for him anyway.”

“Hold on there,” Justin pushed himself off the ledge and Harry readied a spell on his lips as a
precaution. Instead, the Hufflepuff continued to speak instead of lashing out.

“”I wasn't under the impression that this was an open ended project. I helped you out by you
blackmailing me of course. I did my part.”

“And you'll keep helping me or else I'll tell the whole school of how you tried to kill
Tracey.”

It was a dangerous bluff as Harry had no intention of doing so. Dragging Tracey into this mess
would only make her relive the trauma of that night and it wasn't something Harry particularly
wanted to do. Besides, there were more far reaching consequences should he do so. Justin might have
suspected the same thing, but there was no way for him to know what was going on in Harry's
mind.

Justin opened his mouth to respond, but then closed it, seething as he returned to his spot on
the windowsill. That anger which had been nonexistent this year reared its ugly face again. He was
wound far too tight, a certain unpredictability that kept Harry on guard. But Justin didn't do
anything for a few minutes and the anger, at least shown through his face, subsided.

“Fine,” Justin relented. “But I need you to do something for me.”

“I don't *need* to do anything for you,” Harry reminded him.

“Stop being an arse for five seconds and hear me out. Occlumency. I know you know it.”

“And what about it?” Harry thought, trying to come up with reasons as to why Justin
shouldn't counter reveal that he knew that particular branch of magic.

“Can you teach it to me?”

That was an unexpected question.

“It's not really something that's easy to teach and, trust me, I'm not a good
teacher.”

“But you know how to do it,” Justin implored. “You can get me started.”

Harry could give him tips, explain the defenses and intricacies of closing off the mind, but
that would require performing Legilimency on each other and while Harry thought himself a vastly
superior Occlumens to Justin, there was no way he was going to risk the Hufflepuff inside his head.
Not after what he did and attempted to do.

Still, Harry could see the reasoning behind Justin's request. It had long been both he and
Hermione's suspicion that Snape must have warped some sort of memory inside Blaise's head
to invoke such an uncharacteristic reservation of violence. Had Snape done something to Justin to
flip his switch? There was truly no way to tell since last time Harry invaded Justin's
memories, he had found nothing at all in parts of his mind.

Did Justin realize that someone had tampered with his mind?

“Keep an eye out for Cedric for me and I'll see what I can do to help. I'm not promising
to teach you, but I can get you started.”

Justin, for once, looked thankful as he continued looking out at the vast lake. Just then, a
loud horn sounded, the brazen note echoing across the expansive valleys surrounding Hogwarts.
Justin snorted and pointed down at the lake.

“Look.”

Harry looked over the edge to see a giant ripple with a focal point about a kilometer from the
shore of the lake. As the horn blasted again, Harry could see the reverberations as more ripples
overlapped, the waves constructing and deconstructing against each other. One last horn blasted,
louder and longer than the others, before silence fell upon the outer parts of Hogwarts.

From their bird's eye view, they could both see the giant shadow rising from beneath the
small waves. It was stock and elongated, a definite mass rising from within the Great Lake. As the
mast broke the surface of the water, Harry could just make out the fin-like appendages on the sides
of the boat retracting. From within the lake, the ship emerged bobbing heavily once as it fully
surfaced.

That would have been enough excitement to break up the tedium in Hogwarts but the show was far
from over as Harry spotted something fast approaching from the south horizon. Shading his eyes from
the sun, Harry squinted and saw winged horses pulling what looked to be a carriage. It was a sight
that was so comical that even Harry, who had few things to laugh about these days, managed a
smile.

Justin snorted and shook his head at the display.

“Circus.”

* * * * * * * *

The host of the tournament was usually inclined to prepare an entrance feast for the competing
schools. The House Elves had outdone themselves this time, garnishing the Great Hall with festive
decorations and the sigils of the two schools. It was a blend of the history of Hogwarts, the art
of Beauxbatons, and the baroque sensibilities of Durmstrang. The tables had been rearranged,
squeezing Slytherin closer to Ravenclaw as an extra table was added for the incoming Beauxbatons
and Durmstrang participants.

Since there were guests, a more proper garb was required of the students and the slightly
dressier robes reflected that. Harry didn't feel like asking for another set of Blaise's
nicer robes and correcting them so he just wore his gray Battle outfit underneath a newer set of
black robes. It was a second skin to him by now. There was a nervous excitement amongst the
Hogwarts students as the table for the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students was still empty. As
Snape stood, however, the crowd quieted.

“May I present the Durmstrang Institute.”

With a large sweep of his arm, Snape lit the additional torch lights that illuminated the
pathway towards the extra long table. The large double doors to the Great Hall burst open like a
flood of water breaking through a dam, the ancient oak slamming against the concrete.

A large man stepped through, easily over six foot and a few inches. He had shoulders that seemed
to fill the entire doorway, a massive top-heavy frame that blotted out the students behind him.
Though he was an intimidating size, his strides were lithe and smooth, a contrast to his frame. His
eyes were straight ahead, determined and focused as the rest of the Durmstrang students finally
emerged from behind him.

“Viktor Krum,” Tracey whispered.

Harry nudged her and asked, “How do you know him?”

“He's *the* famous Bulgarian Seeker. Plays for the national team even though he's
only 17,” she explained, a little starstruck.

“You don't know Krum?” Pansy asked.

“I didn't see the World Cup,” Harry said.

Tracey was going to say something else, but several thuds interrupted her as the Durmstrang
students banged their wooden staffs against the ground. Some of the students near the back carried
drums tied around their waists and they brought the mallets down in a rhythmic manner, a beat
forming as acrobatics were suddenly introduced. It must have been tradition for no one else batted
an eyelid at these ceremonies.

Krum through off his fur coat with a flourish, the brown blanket flying through the air as a
wooden staff flew into his hand coming from the opposite direction. Underneath his coat he wore a
long sleeved brown sweater and Harry wondered if Durmstrang had an aversion to colors not within
the Earth tone. Krum's muscles flexed and rippled underneath his shirt as he twirled around the
staff for a few seconds, easily handling it as if it were a twig. The percussion stopped as quickly
as it started as one last figure, an older man with a sparse goatee and sunken eyes strode through
as if he owned Hogwarts.

“Headmaster Karakoff,” Snape drawled the name out as if he didn't particularly like the
sound of it.

Harry saw Karakoff sneer and bow in an exaggerated manner. The rest of the students followed
suit and made their way to the extra table without saying anything at all. The thunderous display
left the majority of the student body confused. Were they supposed to clap? A few students here and
there brought their hands together but Snape continued without missing a beat as if he were part of
the drums himself.

“And the Beauxbatons Academy.”

The doors had closed again, only to be slammed opened for a second time. This time, a shower of
doves burst forth, disappearing after a certain distance. It must have been an area triggered charm
as a decidedly less aggressive group entered the Great Hall. Dressed in shades of light blue,
Beauxbatons could not have differed anymore than Durmstrang in their entrance. There was a melody
in the air, entrancing and subtle, as four girls danced forward on the tips of their toes. Dressed
in loose, silk skirts and modest blouses, they presented Beauxbatons as a cultured school. Harry
noticed that they were all girls, slender and pretty, save for one male towards the back, stalking
forward instead of dancing.

Fairest of them all was a mesmerizing blonde in the middle. She didn't dance, at least not
in the way the other girls were dancing. Her eyes danced, catching the light at different angles as
if there were little diamonds within her iris. She was tall and slender and Harry couldn't take
his eyes off her. The slender jaw line that led to a porcelain neck. The visibility of her hip bone
underneath the silk skirt. The way her blouse stretched perfectly across her chest. Then she turned
and smiled right at him.

“Harry.”

“What was that?” Harry blubbered, his head clearing from a sudden fog.

“Who is what you mean and that who is Fleur Delacour. She's a quarter-Veela in case
you're wondering.” Tracey looked from Goyle to Nott to Harry and rolled her eyes.

“That does explain a lot,” Harry mumbled. “Are you certain she's only quarter-Veela?” Harry
asked, unable to tear his eyes off Fleur.

“Yeah. She's modeled in some mags that I've read. Seeing her in those rags don't
give her justice though. She's quite breathtaking,” Tracey commented.

Perhaps it was shock that finally broke Harry's line of sight as a large figure blocked his
view of Fleur. He was so irritated that he almost sat up and craned his neck, but he finally
regained control of most of his senses. He would have to exercise more caution in the future
regarding Fleur. The way his body completely lost control was not something he wanted to repeat on
a proximal basis around her. The person blocking his view must have been the Headmistress by the
looks of her age and size. She could easily be identified as at least half-giant, towering over ten
feet tall. She smiled at Snape, though it wasn't genuine by the look in her eyes, and gave a
soft bow that the girls in front of her exaggerated by dipping their heads almost to their toes.
The lone gentleman bowed low as well, folding his hands in front and behind him.

“Madame Maxime,” Snape introduced her.

They followed suit and sat down at the extra table, leaving ample space between them and the
Durmstrang students. The introductions now made, it was Snape's turn to take center stage and
while Harry half-expected some sort of song and dance from Hogwarts, he knew it wasn't
Snape's style. There would be a speech, direct and functional.

“We would first like to thank the Durmstrang Institute and the Beauxbatons Academy for
travelling here to participate in this grand event. As hosts, we will do everything in our power to
accommodate these two prestigious schools.”

It would have sounded elegant if it wasn't for the fact that most of it was probably rubbish
coming from Snape.

“The Tournament of Champions is an opportunity for each school to put forth students that
represent their respective schools. It is a rigorous and *dangerous* tournament, but measures
have been put in place to protect the safety of the students involved to the best of our abilities.
Let it be said that participation in the Tournament is on an entirely volunteer basis. Your names
will be submitted into the Goblet of Fire.”

With a wave of his arm, Snape produced a large goblet upon a pedestal in the middle of the Great
Hall, drawing oohs and ahhs from the student body. Harry ticked his head, wondering whether it was
particularly difficult to perform wandless magic like that or whether it depended upon the spell.
He had seen several displays of innocuous spells like levitation or summoning objects done without
wands but Harry ddin't think that summoning the Goblet of Fire was easy magic.

“You will have a fortnights time to submit your names within the Goblet of Fire. It is an
ancient and powerful magical artefact and has been bewitched to disallow any students under the age
of fourteen from participating. All you have to do is write down your name on a slip of paper and
we will have another feast in a fortnight where the champions shall be chosen. The Goblet will
decide who will represent their schools.”

The goblet in question was very inconspicuous, a wooden basin that would have been a serving
bowl had it not been for the illuminating green fire within. It flickered and wavered softly, a
nonthreatening flame that illuminated the area around the goblet. A loud clatter of footsteps
interrupted his viewing as a large figure stood up from the extra table. Krum, his imposing figure
towering over the seated students, strode forward confidently. The students were silent, perhaps
more surprised that someone would dare interrupt Snape in the middle of his speech. Krum took no
notice of the surprise and proceeded straight towards the Goblet of Fire. In his large, meaty fist
was a small strip of paper that he dropped unceremoniously into the goblet. The flames turned blue
for a second, the fire roaring to life before calming down into its calm green.

Krum's scowl deepened even further but his fellow mates reacted differently. They started
pounding their fists against the table, a slow, rhythmic beat that echoed loud in the strangely
quiet hall. *Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.*

Karakoff smiled, crooked and stained teeth giving him a grisly facade. The Durmstrang students
continued banging their fists down against the table until Krum returned to his seat, a few of them
patting the large man on his back. They finally settled down when Karakoff raised his hand for
silence. Snape looked at Karakoff, his dark eyes suddenly menacing and the slightest flicker of a
twitch at the corner of his lips. His displeasure was obvious to everyone and it was a remarkable
thing for Snape to actually show emotion.

Everyone expected him to resume speaking, but he waited. The pregnant pause stretched out so
everyone could fully absorb the awkward and tense exchange. Just as if it seemed Snape wouldn't
speak again, his mouth opened but his words seemed harsher, his tone more aggressive. Even Snape,
most likely dead inside, did not appreciate being slighted in front of all three schools.

“After the First Event, there will be a special ceremony in...honor...of these three schools and
this important event. There will be a Yule Ball to mark the celebration of the return of this
tournament and the participation of our champions. It will be a fancy dress attire and I implore
all of you to make plans to stay for the duration of the winter break as well as acquiring suitable
clothing for the event.”

A burst of chatter livened the previously dour affair as the Yule Ball grabbed their attention.
This was also the apparent end of Snape's speech as he sat back down, still glaring at
Karakoff. Food and drinks appeared despite the abrupt ending to the commencement of the Tournament
of Champions.

“So are you going to do it?” Tracey asked.

“Do you think I should?” Harry asked back.

Tracey looked contemplatively at the goblet, her hand coming to her lips as a finger rubbed
around it. Harry watched her finger go around the glossy lips before snapping his eyes away.

“You are one of the best students here. I would be shocked if it didn't pick you.”

“That doesn't answer the question of if you think I should do it in the first place.”

“I think you need to make a choice,” she said.

Snape wanted him to do it. The age requirement couldn't have been a coincidence. If Snape
wanted him to participate, then there was an ulterior motive at hand. Then again, what was
Snape's agenda in the first place? Why did he purposefully give Harry an inordinate amount of
obstacles? Harry had promised to himself that he would start resisting Snape's machinations but
what would his classmates think of him if he didn't submit his name? What would the rest of the
school think? Did he care what he thought?

A student suddenly stood up from the Gryffindor table. Whilst the others were busy eating and
gossiping about the tournament and the Yule Ball, one student had written down her name on a small
piece of parchment. Perhaps inspired by Krum, this student strode forward but without the bravado
and confidence of the Bulgarian. She was unsure in her gait, but she kept a brave face while
stepping towards the goblet.

The goblet erupted in blue flames as it accepted another name. The whole of Gryffindor stood up
to clap as she made her way back almost sheepishly. Harry kept his eyes on her, knowing that she
would look his way at least once. He was not mistaken.

“Oh, Hermione. What have you done?”

* * * * * * * * *

The excited rabble continued even after dinner. They couldn't stop talking about the
imposing and famous Krum or the wonderous girl from Beauxbatons or the Yule Ball. Yet, the only
thing that occupied Harry's mind was Hermione's dramatic throwing of her hat into the ring.
It was a statement of intent from her and it certainly riled up her Gryffindor cohorts. But did she
really want to participate in the tournament?

He fished the coin out of his pocket and rolled it in his fingers, examining the way the light
would bounce off it at a certain angle. Placing his wand against the coin, Harry inscribed a
message for Hermione.

*Why?*

They had never really communicated this way. It was always a message to relay when or where they
would meet. There was only so much room to write on the coin, but she had piqued his curiosity.

*Why not?*

He really hated her sometimes. The coin glowed warmly in his hand, a second set of words
replacing the first ones.

*Learning from you.*

Harry put the coin down for a moment and contemplated the meaning of her message. He assumed
that she submitted her name because she wanted to make her intentions known regarding the
tournament, but she could have also done it for appearance's sake. Certainly, it would be a
page out of his book to project a stronger image than she actually held.

*Did it work*?

He wrote back to her, curious to see if his line of thinking was correct. There was a rustle as
someone else climbed out of bed, but as Harry opened his drape to investigate it, the coin warmed
in his palm again.

*To be seen.*

Harry smiled to himself, glad that Hermione was doing something to take charge of Gryffindor. It
would have been a travesty had they at least not try to follow her leadership. There was more
activity in the dormitory, but Harry had drifted off to sleep again.

He was walking through Hogwarts, similar to the other night. This time, he walked towards the
rear of the castle near the Great Lake. Looking back at the castle, Harry felt the rumbling along
the ground and braced himself for the coming explosion. It erupted from within, splintering apart
the foundation as debris rocketed into the air.

An ear splitting scream grabbed his attention as he saw a figure running towards him in the
distance. It was high pitched, most certainly a girl. She emerged around the corner, but she was
too far away to identify. A monstrosity followed behind her, a slithering, disgusting thing that
was most certainly the source of her fear.

Harry watched, mesmerized, as *it* kept following her, snaking along the ground in a
natural manner. He completely lost track of a girl, his eyes focused on the coiling and twisting
beast. Harry locked eyes with the beast and felt a searing pain in his forehead.

His eyes snapped open, he sunlight bursting through his drapes. He was perspiring heavily, his
scar tingling with the aftershocks of pain. Twice now he had dreamt of Hogwarts' destruction,
but this giant snake was a new development. He had sworn that he remembered the creature from one
of his lessons, but he couldn't recall it off the top of his head. Climbing out of bed, Harry
found himself face to face with the only other person in the dormitory.

Draco looked at him, fully dressed and seemingly waiting for him. “Class is in ten minutes,
Potter. We were getting worried when you didn't show up for breakfast.”

“And they sent you back?” Harry asked as he haphazardly put on a shirt and scrambled to find his
combat robes for the first class of the day.

“I had to come back anyway.” Draco looked away for a moment as Harry pulled on his trousers.
“Can I ask you something, Potter?”

“What?”

“Why did you start all of this? The Commander? *Lestrego*?” Draco asked. “Some of the
others might just take comfort in following you, but I can't say that it hasn't made me
curious.”

“I don't like losing,” Harry simply answered.

“A pathological fear of losing? I don't buy that either.”

Harry fixed Draco with a look, wondering why he was suddenly all so curious when he had been one
of the few that had followed his orders over the course of the past few weeks. At the end of the
day, he was still a Malfoy. Despite all of this, Harry shared some of his thoughts. Perhaps it was
the weeks on end of mental isolation that had greased his wheels.

“I can't carry all of you forever. There has to be a structure. There has to be a program.
If I can somehow implement that and then pass it on to Slytherins, then this House will continue
winning even if I'm forced to be in the Board Room or I'm taken out through subterfuge. Can
you understand that?”

“I can understand that,” Draco said.

“People like having a hero to look up to,” Harry muttered.

Draco snorted. “There are no such things as heroes. Only villains who think they're
heroes.”

Harry looked at him oddly. “That's a unique way of looking at things.”

Draco smiled, but it was delayed like he had to think about it.

“And what if I'm right?”

* * * * * * * * *

When Harry and Draco arrived at the corridor containing the Room of Requirement, they found it
curiously less full than usual. In this case, only the Slytherin House was present with Snape
instead of all the Houses. Harry steadied his walk and Draco intelligently fell in line behind with
him, providing the illusion that he was leading Draco. For all of his faults, Draco did know how to
keep appearances.

“Where is everyone?” Harry asked in general, but it was mostly directed to Snape.

Instead of answering, Snape paced in front of the wall three times until a door appeared and
gestured them inside. Considering the fact that he hadn't given them instructions, Harry
assumed there would be a secondary waiting room inside the door and didn't prepare his wand.
The rest of his classmates followed suit and his l were correct as he found himself in a blank room
with one silver object in the middle. It was the same one they had used in the forest last
year.

“When you are ready, link everyone together and touch the artefact in the middle of the room. It
will take you to the proper area.”

Snape vanished without another word, keeping the directions purposefully vague. It was also the
first time Harry would participate in a battle since he had been banished to the Board Room. Leave
it to Snape to design something entirely different than their usual circumstances just after the
introduction of the Tournament of Champions. Harry brought his wand out and paced around the ornate
silver snake, wondering what Snape had planned for him now.

“Did any of you see the other Houses?” Harry asked.

There were a murmur of voices until Tracey spoke for all of them. “None of us saw them,
Commander. I got here five minutes early and not a single person from any of the other Houses were
in the hall.”

Harry appreciated her use of his moniker. He meant to praise her, but he was starting to realize
the significance of their isolation.

“They still had to have had this class and Snape led us to this assumed Portkey because our
entrance is timing based. Leaves me with one conclusion. Does anyone else know what that is?” Harry
quizzed them.

After a moment, Blaise said, “They're waiting for us.”

Harry made eye contact with his once best friend and nodded. “Very good, Zabini.”

“But - that's not fair!” Pansy sputtered.

But Harry had no time to think about what was fair or not. He needed to focus all of his
attention on a plan to somehow weasel their way out of another tight bind. If the other Houses had
their time tables altered to attend class early, then that would mean Snape gave them ample time to
set up. Furthermore, it was highly likely that this Portkey would lead them straight into the
lion's den, figuratively speaking. It was a replication of the situation in the forest last
year, except the Houses would be prepared this time and not allow a farce like Finch-Fletchley of
old.

“They're probably going to be waiting for us on the other side of this,” Draco added,
reflecting Harry's own thoughts.

Harry continued pacing around the giant silver snake, slightly shaken by the giant snake in his
dreams. He didn't understand the meaning of these dreams and was perturbed that they seemed to
be continuing. Shaking his head, Harry refocused, trying to imagine how he would set up if he had
ample time to prepare. The three Houses would likely implicitly cooperate. That wasn't an
arrogant line of thinking. It was just realistic on all of their parts. Slytherin was top House for
a reason and if Snape was purposefully giving them an opportunity to gang up on Slytherin, they
would take it. Thus, Harry entered his plan with two very reasonable assumptions. They would be
teleported right into their firing sight and that all three Houses would be working together.

“Everyone together.” He motioned for the entire group to cluster around the Portkey. Physically
situating them where they were supposed to go, Harry formed a tight, overlapping circle of arms. It
was just wide enough in circumference to avoid stepping on the Portkey and Harry placed himself and
Draco in the middle.

“*Protego* shields everyone.”

They all brought up shields and since they were so close together, it made a near impenetrable
fortress. The problem was that holding shields were dependent on magical energy. The more spells
hit the shield, the weaker it became and the chances of holding them at bay dwindled with each
spell. It was not a defense they could hold forever, but it would buy them some time.

“Hold out for as long as you can. I'll do my best. If I split an opening, I want everyone to
split into their groups and go into full self destruct. Take down as many as you can. There will be
no maneuverings or tricks. If Snape wants this to be unfair, then we'll go out with a
blaze.”

A murmur of agreement was all he needed. Before he grasped the ring around the silver snake,
Harry told Draco, “Create a lot of noise. I'm going to need some distractions to pull this
off.”

Once Draco acknowledged, Harry took a deep breath and grabbed the handle, knowing the imminent
danger on the other side.

* * * * * * * * *

It was even worse than Harry imagined.

As soon as his feet hit the ground, spells sparked across the air, slamming against their
shields. There was an audible pop from the number of spells fizzing through their at once. Harry
had just three seconds to register the fact that they were completely surrounded in an open plain
by the three other Houses. It was a literal shooting gallery and Slytherin was in the middle.

Casting a Disillusionment Charm around himself, Harry noted that Draco was conjuring fog and
haze as well as firing the *Lostrego* spell in the air, creating a sort of mist around them.
Crouched low, Harry doubted that the others could easily identify him in the rabble of spells. The
next part of his plan was something he wasn't quite sure of.

In all honesty, he wished he had studied some more Apparation. While it was widely known that
one couldn't Apparate on Hogwarts grounds, there wasn't any evidence that the same could be
said about the Room of Requirement. After all, the environments were distinctly different every
time. If he could Apparate, then Harry would be able to get behind enemy lines in the blink of an
eye. Without that option, he would have to resort to other means to get behind them.

Hoping he didn't blast his own legs off, Harry pointed his wand down at the ground.

“*Repello!”*

The Repelling spell really wasn't intended for this purpose, but Harry assumed the principle
would remain the same. If he cast the Repelling spell at a spot on the ground, it would push him
away from it. Thankfully, it worked to a degree. He hurtled through the air as if he were launched
from a catapult, tumbling end over end as the spells and battle raged on below him. Orienting
himself, he placed a Cushioning Charm to make sure he didn't break his neck. The landing was
still awkward as if he bounced off a strange cushion. Standing up, Harry recognized that he found
himself behind the Ravenclaw contingent.

He hit four of them with Stunners before they even recognized something was wrong. A total of
eight of the ten were incapacitated by the time they identified that someone was Disillusioned
behind him. Harry cleaned up Mandy and Terry with ease and then blasted another *Lostrego*
into the air. The sky was littered with the green lightning bolts and Harry quickly made his way
around the rim of the basin from which they were firing upon Slytherin.

The landscape was laid out in such a way that Slytherin teleported right in the middle of a
basin. The rest of the Houses were positioned along the rim in an elevated position, making it even
more fruitful for their advantage. As Harry raced around the top, he counted on the distraction of
the spells to disguise the perceptible visible distortion caused by his Disillusion Charm.

Yet, Hermione must have picked up on the fact that the Ravenclaws were no longer firing at the
Slytherins for a spell only she would have learned in such a short period of time hit him in
stride, breaking the Disillusion Charm. His body suddenly appeared in plain sight, right next to
the Hufflepuffs. It would take a lot of his magical strength, but he would have to gamble.

“*Fulminare!”*

His spell lifted five Hufflepuffs off their feet, blowing them back a good ten feet. The rest
were more prepared this time, summoning and conjuring random objects to absorb the rest of the
chained spell. He had no time to examine the situation of the rest of the Slytherins and hoped
someone would take the impetus to lead them out of the basin. For now, he had to worry about the
five Hufflepuffs facing him down, including Justin.

They struck quickly and more importantly, spread out a great distance to encircle him. Harry
didn't exactly know how far his spell would extend. After all, there weren't a great
variety of circumstances to test it on. They clearly outnumbered him and even Harry didn't
fancy his odds at this point. It wasn't his preferred option but a quick exit would always be a
viable option.

“*Repello!”*

He pointed at the ground and rocketed through the air again but maintained his balance this
time, knowing the weight of the spell. Ernie's jaw dropped as Harry careened through the air,
landing on the other side of the basin with a well placed Cushioning Charm.

“He can fly?!” Ernie yelled.

Harry had no time to bask in their fright. He had jumped himself straight into the Gryffindors
and found himself face to face with Hermione. She swirled on the spot and spoke a spell he
couldn't hear. Black smoke enveloped her and Harry raised a shield as a precaution. The battle
was raging on as Slytherin attempted to climb out of the basin using the human shield routine that
Draco had perfected, but Harry was concentrating on finding Hermione.

The sizzle of a spell tipped him off. It came from his left but the source was invisible to his
eye. Twirling his wand around the top of his head, Harry cast his own Disillusionment Charm and
side stepped a few steps, trying to keep his movement to a minimum. If Hermione wanted to fight in
the shadows, then he would match her.

There were a few constraints to the Disillusionment Charm. Any movement would be seen as a
perceptible distortion of the surrounding world. More importantly, as with any spell that had to be
held for a duration like the *Protego*, the Disillusionment Charm would only last as long as
the strength of the caster. Harry knew he was stronger than her, so waiting her out would be an
option as it looked like Slytherin was getting the upper hand as Draco cleverly stacked their
shields so that there were four meat shields in front and three attackers behind them. The
Gryffindors had yet to realize that increased mobility and an easy flanking would be a good tactic
against the meat shield.

Hermione, however, would act as she would come to the same realization that neither could hide
forever and her charm would falter long before his. The question remained: what would she do? Harry
ran through some scenarios, but they had yet to learn a spell that could easily reveal the
Disillusionment Charm. That would undoubtedly be something to learn quickly in the future. Yet,
there were other ways…

The ground suddenly erupted beneath him as all the dirt rose into the air. He covered his hands
and eyes and tucked his body into a tight roll, knowing that Hermione had the drop in him as the
dirt settled around his body, highlighting his figure. The spells raced along the air and Harry, in
anger, transfigured the dirt into small mirrors, blinding Hermione and protecting him against
spells in the mean time.

As Harry came to his feet, he smiled as Hermione revealed herself. A spell came at her from
behind and she reacted just in time to deflect it with a conjured blanket. Yet, she realized that
the rest of the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs had been defeated during their short duel. Draco,
Blaise, Tracey, and Pansy remained. Harry spotted a hobbled Millicent lying on the ground, nursing
what looked to be a broken leg.

“Almost, Hermione,” Harry grunted as he clutched his side. During the commotion, a spell had
made a deep cut into his side that was blotting his robes with crimson.

Hermione took a step back and tapped herself on the wrist, saying another unknown spell. It
looked innocuous to anyone else, but Harry had known her long enough to know that Hermione did
nothing without meaning. But Tracey, who had never liked Hermione, was eager to end it on her terms
and struck out with a simple Stunner

“Wait!” Harry exclaimed, unable to stop Tracey in time.

As soon as the spell hit Hermione, a blast of magic came off her body like a tidal wave. Harry
put up a Protego Shield, but it wilted and disappeared underneath the powerful magic. He was
knocked off his feet and landed painfully on his back some feet away, but he was still conscious.
Groaning and rolling around to check for injuries, Harry tried to see if anyone else was still on
their feet and found no one. The whole battlefield was littered with unconscious students except
for one.

Hermione was on her knees, one hand braced against the dirt as she struggled to keep herself
afloat. Tracey lay unconscious right in front of her whilst Draco and Blaise landed near Harry.
Harry struggled to his feet, the heavy feeling of physical and magical exhaustion taking a toll on
his energy levels. After several tries, he collapsed on the ground, unable to get onto his feet.
Rolling onto his back, he stared at the blue sky and started laughing uncontrollably at
Hermione's last play.

Who would be declared winner if no one could continue?

* * * * * * * * * *

**A/N: I know. I missed my mark by a long shot. It's a busy time of year and I'm afraid
that the next update won't come quick either. I'll do my best to hit the projected update
time again, but things usually come to a crunch around this time of year for my profession.
Hopefully you enjoyed this chapter as there are some fantastic ones ahead. Prepare to learn a lot
more about the other schools as well as Krum and Fleur exploration.**

**Projected Update TIme: 37 days**
 Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7
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33. The Tournament of Champions
-------------------------------



Tracey nervously wrung her hands as she awaited Pomfrey's orders. She was dressed in medical
garb which consisted of a butcher style apron and hideous protective boots. Potions were splashed
around everywhere and any incidental contact had the potential to be hazardous. Emblazoned across
the front of her apron was a red cross and then just above it was a smaller insignia. For her, it
was the silver and green serpent of Slytherin.

“Now remember what we've learned so far. You will not administer any potions or treatments
today, but you will attempt to diagnose the injuries and severity of the problem. You will be
graded not only for the accuracy of your analysis, but your demeanor and thought process as well. I
*should* not need to remind you, but the spell to detect anomalies is *Egritudo*.”

Madame Pomfrey had been quite clear that they were to perform no spells under threat of
expulsion. This was to be a crash course in identifying injuries and maladies and it was also their
first instance of live patients. Almost everything up to this particular point had been theory and
charmed dummies. The class had been surprisingly fast paced. Pomfrey spent no time reciting rolls
of parchment for them to memorize. They were expected to do that as homework. Instead, she
regularly tested them on questions they obviously did not have the answers to. Tracey quickly
figured out that she needed to know much more than the requisite reading if she were to not look
foolish in class.

Today, they were to assist Pomfrey in helping the wounded after their most recent Battle class.
Their teacher had administered to them first and as none of them had relatively serious injuries,
they were ready to begin whilst the others waited in the Hospital Wing. Making it all the more
terrifying was the fact that they were supposed to diagnose their own classmates instead of other
years.

“There will come a time when you will have to treat someone you know and it is important to
remain objective. Hopefully, there will be someone else that can treat them, but we Healers are on
short supply and we do not always have the luxury of avoiding the ones we know.”

Draco readjusted the straps of his boots next to her, his normally perfect hair disheveled and
full of dirt and mud. He cast her a sidelong glance and after a moment, commiserated with a
sympathetic expression. Tracey still felt guilty about tripping Granger's trap and it
wasn't for the first time that the Gryffindor had gotten the best of her. Perhaps it was that
feeling of failure that was written all over her face.

“Just a little blood on our hands, right?” Draco asked.

“Just a little,” she answered.

Madame Pomfrey opened the doors to the Hospital Wing and Tracey was immediately assaulted by the
odorous mix of sterilization and pain. Blood and mucus were seeping from some of the students and
she rocked steadily on her feet, the lightheadedness threatening to topple her. A hand steadied her
and Tracey was grateful that Draco was discreet enough not to attract attention.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Look alive,” Draco whispered back.

Their first patient was Millicent Bulstrode and Tracey almost vomited at the sight of her
mangled ankle. It was bent in an almost ninety degree ankle from the usual position and it was most
certainly fractured at some point. Tracey tried to recall endless notes of the particular bones in
that region, but her thoughts deserted her. There was blood dripping down the side of the sheet
from another wound, but it was Millicent's moans that would remain in Tracey's head for the
rest of the night. It was so pained, filled with anguish.

“Alright.” Pomfrey clapped her hands together, her stern face bearing the facade of business as
she addressed their small group. “What is your initial diagnosis? You don't have to get bogged
down in the technical terms, but I expect you to have an idea of what you're looking for.”

It was hard to concentrate as several other people were still voicing their pains around the
ward. Pomfrey looked at them expectantly and Tracey had a feeling that their reaction to the
situation was just as important as how they answered. In all honesty, there was no way that any of
them would be able to deliver a proper diagnosis, but she buckled up and tried to answer
truthfully.

“I would perform *Egritudo*. I - uh - can see that she has likely fractured her tibia or
fibula, I think. From what I know, fractures are usually set by performing...um….um…”

Tracey wished that Pomfrey would stop looking at her with that damning expectation. The heat
rose to her pale face and whilst she didn't blush easily, she imagined that even Weasley would
have been impressed by how red the tips of her ears were.

“*Cosano ossum*,” Draco added. “You have to make sure that your wand movements are precise
or else it might set the break incorrectly and cause further damage down the line.”

She shot him a grateful look, and he nodded back at her. Pomfrey narrowed her eyes at the pair
of them but nodded her head in confirmation that their initial diagnosis was correct. Tracey shot
him a grateful smile and his face distorted as if he couldn't decide which emotion to portray,
but Draco eventually shrugged as if to say, “No worries.”

Down the line they went as Madame Pomfrey took turns eviscerating them when they were off the
mark and praising them when their thinking was correct even if they didn't apply the perfect
solution. Tracey grew numb to the different injuries as she tried to distance herself from the
patient and the person she knew to be her friend or enemy. That was, until they arrived at
Harry.

Promptly, Pomfrey detoured and moved onto the next patient, skipping Harry entirely. Their
teacher did it without so much as a blink of an eye and immediately started asking questions of the
blisters on Ernie MacMillan's arm. Tracey glanced back towards Harry and saw that he was still
asleep, no doubt recovering from the exhaust of magical output.

“Know that there is a form of magical blisters in which the wizard or witch will react
negatively if exposed to certain types of magical spheres. It goes hand in hand with the magical
conservation principle. There is a definite finite amount of magic to each wizard or witch and you
are more susceptible to massive internal damage should that level become too low,” Pomfrey lectured
in the middle of the Hospital Wing.

Tracey glanced back at Harry again, wondering why Pomfrey had skipped over him without even a
glance toward her best friend. He looked almost peaceful in his sleep, his eyes closed and his
brain hopefully resting from what had already been a tiring year for him. She looked longingly at
his smooth face, so youthful until he opened his eyes and she saw the turmoil within. Not for the
first time, she wondered whether or not he was taking on too much in too little time.

“Remember that your end of the year project will take a considerable amount of research so I
suggest you don't dwell and take your experiences from today and think about the potion you
want to create from the advanced level books. Think about how you could use it in this sort of
setting and it's applications and cons.”

Their small group murmured in agreement and Pomfrey broke them down to return to their
dormitories. Tracey purposefully took a route back towards Harry's bed. She looked over her
shoulder to see that Pomfrey was busy attending to someone else and stepped closer to Harry. She
ran her hand over his face, a shakiness in her stomach from being so close to Harry and seeing him
so unresponsive.

“I'll watch your back,” she whispered, knowing that he would never hear and that he might
never know how much she truly cared for him.

* * * * * * *

Harry had no time to lick his wounds from what amounted to be a draw among all the Houses. He
set another schedule for yet another late night training session, yet this time he let Draco,
Blaise, and Tracey be in charge of it. Leaving them with instructions on what maneuvers and spells
they should practice, Harry also informed that he would arrive halfway through the practice but had
other matters to attend to. Draco was smart enough to not ask what he was up to whilst he told
Blaise and Tracey that he needed to return to the cave.

Hermione had called for him through their shared coin and it must have been somewhat important
if she was trying to raise him during the evening without at least a full day's warning. Trying
to not to hurry to the dungeons and the area underneath the staircase, Harry was surprised to find
the cave much different than he had previously seen it

“You two have been busy,” Harry said.

Indeed, Luna and Hermione had sectioned off three areas of the cave. Raised dividers signified
the divisions and a large table was located within each partition. Luna was waving her wand idly at
the table on the far left, her eyes closed and humming an unknown tune. Hermione watched the
Ravenclaw with a deep scowl on her face and turned when she heard Harry's voice.

“You like it?” she asked.

“Sure,” Harry offered. “What is it?”

“Test area.” She pointed towards the leftmost table. “QA area.” The middle. “Production.” The
table on the right, closest to the small pool.

“We've actually made a surprising amount of progress replicating the Battle Room, but there
are a few areas in which we're lacking. We can, for example, replicate us in the cave using a
radial sensor that works as a sort of radar and then transfiguring the crystals within to project
an image.”

Hermione nodded at Luna and the younger girl tapped the side of the table and Harry watched,
impressed, as three personas appeared in what looked to be a shadowy replica of their positions. It
wasn't the uncanny valley of likeness that was projected in the Board Room, but it was
obviously a good foundation of their work.

“Luna has actually been somewhat helpful with some of her ideas,” Hermione reluctantly
admitted.

“She's right there you know,” Harry said.

“I don't think she hears me half the time.”

Harry and Luna made eye contact and grinned at the same time.

“There are still six or seven ideas I want to try going forward,” Hermione said.

“Actually, you have forty-seven,” Luna corrected.

“Roughly.” Hermione rolled her eyes. “And we've had some difficulty trying to figure out how
they have everyone communicating with each other. We both thought it would be a rather simple
sending and receiving protocol. Maybe place some Charms on a couple of objects, but it turns out
that it isn't that simple. Frankly, there's not an easy to way to have that communication
system. That was until I read a little further…”

Hermione opened one of several books stacked in a perfect pile on a spare desk. Flicking through
the pages, she landed upon one that she had no doubt memorized. Her face lit up as her finger
scanned across a line on the page.

“If you implement some sort of magical symbol upon everyone, that would help facilitate the
process. At that point we could just tie the device towards the magical symbol and I think that
could be a possible solution.”

“What? Like a tattoo?” Harry questioned.

“Yeah,” Hermione nodded to herself. “Sort of. I think that would be the easiest way unless I
magically learned as much Charms as Flitwick.”

Luna suddenly spoke up. “I have some reservations against that idea. It's well known that
magical symbols negatively affect your aura.”

Hermione gave a very petulant eye roll as soon as Luna started speaking. Ignoring the Ravenclaw,
Hermione pushed on with the idea. “It sort of works as a master/slave connection. One person would
hold the reins so to speak and everyone else could communicate using the the host as a
conduit.”

“I don't quite understand.”

“If we were go to go through with the magical symbol, then whoever would be the host would have
to transmit through everyone. All the traffic would have to flow through you, Harry.”

“Which is another reservation to have against this. There are several things you are overlooking
with this idea, Hermione. It is not something that I think we should progress with.” Gone was the
usual floaty lilt in Luna's voice. Instead, there was a deep seriousness that usually evaded
her. Hermione was oblivious to it as she usually was when someone disagreed with her, but Harry
could detect that Luna had some serious concerns.

“Why are you so against it, Luna?” Harry asked.

Her face was blank, not a hint of a smile or whimsy about it. “I forget sometimes that you two
were raised by Muggles. Either way, you two should know that there is a very dark history in using
magical symbols. Wizards and witches should not be linked together like that.”

Hermione shook her head and Harry recognized the onset signs of frustration. Her hand would
start to reflexively clench in a fist and she bit her lip to prevent a more caustic set of words
from escaping her mouth.

“It doesn't have a *dark history*. There are instances when it is used negatively and
there are instances when it is used positively. Nothing is *inherently* dark. It just depends
on how you use it,” Hermione argued.

Sensing the top was about to blow off this particular pot, Harry offered a temporary solution.
“Why don't we give this a rest for tonight? I have to get back to practice and you two should
probably get some fresh air.”

The suggestion seemed to have tempered Hermione for now, but Harry knew that he would have to
keep a closer eye on their interactions. Luna, from what Harry had seen, was not one to easily
stand up to ridicule and abuse and Hermione, though her intentions were never malicious, sometimes
took on the role of a freight train.

As Luna left ahead of them, Harry pulled Hermione aside.

“You need to be easier on her. I know that she can help,” Harry hissed, suddenly angry with
Hermione.

Hermione's eyes flashed as she exhaled heavily through her nose. “I do not deny that she has
been helpful. I don't even deny that she has some very good ideas, but you're not the one
that has to work with her. You stuck me with her and the way I'm operating is that she is
helping me. She doesn't have explanations for her concerns. Sometimes she says that it's
just wrong! What am I supposed to deduce from that? How am I suppose to work off that? Luna is
maddening sometimes.”

“Maddening she may be, but you need to cool off. What's gotten into you lately? Tossing your
name into the Goblet of Fire? Did you really need to make such a show of it?”

“That's rich coming from a drama queen like yourself.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Don't be an idiot,” she snapped. “Your lightning bolt in the sky. Last year in the forest.
All of this Commander nonsense. People respect and fear you because create this picture and theater
of what you should be. Do you know how frustrating it is losing to you all the time? I plan each
battle out, adjusting variables for each scenario and then running simulations of what could
happen, yet time and time again, you throw all of that out of the window because someone won't
attack you out of fear. So I think I've earned just the tiniest bit of leeway when it comes to
doing something dramatic.”

“You sound a little bitter.”

“Yes, I'm *very* bitter! I should be beating you.”

Harry shook his head, disappointed at her lack of perspective. “Contrary to what you might
believe, people aren't just pieces of a chess board. They will react differently to what you
tell them to do. Maybe you should take that into account in your simulations. I know you're a
genius, Hermione. You know you're a genius. Guess what? Everyone else knows too. You don't
have to prove that you're so much smarter than everyone because, frankly, you're not that
likeable.”

Her mouth dropped and Harry felt a pang of pain, but he was too angry to stop and she really
needed to hear what he had to say on the matter. He had been treating her softly ever since her
parents had died, fearful of driving her away, but Harry realized that she almost had no one to be
driven away to.

“Appearances matter, Hermione. You might not like it, but you don't get to win just because
you're smarter.”

Hermione's lip was quivering and Harry realized that he might have gone a step too far, but
she had been unbearable of late. What ended last year as a shaky friendship had turned into a very
dysfunctional partnership. Harry could easily classify his Slytherin mates as his soldiers and
Tracey and Blaise as his best mates, but he had no words to call his relationship with Hermione.
She stormed off without another word and Harry was left with nothing but the stinging and angry air
around him.

* * * * * * * * *

After a positive practice, Harry had to make one detour before heading to bed. As he entered the
Great Hall, he found that he was not alone though it was nearing midnight. Harry knew who it was
even with her back turned. She seemed to radiate an addictive ambience. It was hard to tear his
eyes away from her and the way the swell of her hips could be seen in backlight of the fire from
the goblet.

She must have heard his footsteps as she turned around, her blonde hair swirling and dancing in
the low and flickering light. Their eyes met again and Harry felt a flutter of a presence in his
mind. Curious, he tested it by bringing up his Occlumency shields but found no sign of intrusion.
Whatever she was doing, it wasn't Legilimency. Harry cautiously approached the Goblet of Fire
and felt no nervousness despite the fact that she did not break eye contact with him.

“Hello,” she said, her French accent soft and pleasing.

“Bonjour,” Harry responded. That was one of two French words he knew. Yet, she smiled at him, a
practised sort of smile perfected from hours in front of the mirror that was disarming and charming
at the same time. Everything about her was seductive. And dangerous.

“I'm guessing you put your name in then?” Harry made an attempt at small talk, eager to try
and break the hold she had on him.

“Of course. I did not travel all this way to just look upon the sights, pleasing as they may
be.”

Now, in all of Harry's short lifetime, he knew many things that those of his age
shouldn't. He could moderately pass in his attempts at Occlumency and Legilimency. He had
created a spell, a feat that most wizards could not achieve in a lifetime. He was a veteran of
almost one hundred duels and battles, a knowledge base of spells that could inflict harm, distract
opponents, and even heal others.

Yet, he was uncertain if she was flirting with him.

“My name then,” Harry said lamely, wondering where his persona had gone as he held the small
piece of parchment with his name scrawled over it.

“Harry Potter,” she read, though he had no doubt that she knew who he was.

“And Fleur, is it?” She nodded, confirming what he already knew.

“It is strange, *non*? Our fate will be decided not by a biased or unbiased panel, but an
*objet* that we do not know. How does it work? What powers it? Who decides who plays and who
doesn't?” Her English was fairly competent. She interjected and drew from her own language, but
it was fairly clear that she had studied and spoke from an early age and knew how to contort her
mouth to make her easier to understand.

“I suppose that's how they've always done it,” Harry said.

“*Oui. Histoire*. How it has been and how it should be are usually different. *Mais*,
I will do what I can for my school. My friends expect that of me. But what about you, Harry? Why
are you doing this?” Fleur asked, her sparkling, blue eyes looking into the emerald fire.

“I guess you can say the same.” *And the fact that Hermione had ruined any chance of
nonparticipation. What would everyone think if she put her name in for contention and I did
not?*

“I suppose that's what everyone expects of the *great* Harry Potter.” Her lips turned
up into a smile and she gave him a knowing look out of the corner of her eye. It stoked a fire
within him and he felt silly for becoming so excited just by a simple look.

“I don't know about great,” he responded.

*“**Modeste*. If half the stories of you are true, then I expect I will see you in
this tournament.”

“You're pretty confident of getting in then.”

“Confidence is not something I lack. I suspect that you don't lack it either.”

“I guess we'll see in a couple of nights then.” Harry smiled at her, feeling less self
conscious. There was a mutual appreciation of each other's talents and now that he stood next
to her, Harry found her a little less frightening.

“Well go on then,” she gestured towards the goblet.

Harry looked down at his name scribbled down on the parchment and took a deep breath. He tried
to convince himself that this was exactly what Snape wanted him to do. Another test to throw at
him. But he could not in good conscience let Hermione do this alone should she be picked. A pain
she may be, but she was his pain.

He tossed the parchment towards the fire, but Fleur's slender hand struck out like lightning
to grab it. Harry watched as she held the parchment delicately. He tried to make eye contact with
her, but all of the quarter Veela's focus was on his written name. Slowly, she brought it to
her lips and gave it a lingering kiss. Harry was close enough to see the skin of her lips attach
ever so slightly to the ink, the skin holding onto his name as she pulled away. He didn't
realize how quick he was breathing or how quiet the Great Hall had become. Fleur finally tossed his
name into the fire, and the flames within flashed a different color to signify acceptance.

“I *will* be seeing you,” Fleur said, smiling at him as she slinked away into the
darkness.

If she could disarm him so easily with just a smile and a kiss, Harry only wondered what she
could do with a wand.

* * * * * * * * *

Try as he might, Harry could not get his mind off the night he, or rather Fleur, tossed his name
into the fire. It was only just one more day until the goblet made its choices and Harry had found
himself growing restless with the endless routine of practicing and battling. Other classes broke
up the monotony, but Slytherin had become such a well oiled machine that Harry found himself giving
less and less instructions. Instead, he stared at the Board Room, alternating between paying
attention and letting his mind wander into that forbidden territory of fantasies.

Draco and Blaise had taken over relaying commands to their smaller groups as they were now
comfortable taking directives instead of just following orders. Harry spent most of his time
studying Hermione's habits and found himself impressed by the level of detail she tried to
manage with every battle. She micromanaged to the point of insanity, trying to direct each
individual student into their place. Ever since their argument outside the cave, Harry found her
much more challenging. It was either that or the fact that the Gryffindors obeyed her orders with
less argument. Perhaps her little act had inspired some confidence from her classmates.

Still, Harry bested her most of the time, but his numbers were dropping. Gryffindor would score
a victory every now and then whilst Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw toiled in last place. Tracey had
informed him that there was some palpable dissention amongst the Ravenclaw camp as they saw Terry
unfit to be in the Board Room. Snape had made it clear that his choices for the Board Room had been
influenced by whoever was selected into Theory, but he made no argument against replacements. Soon,
it was Padma Patil that joined them in the Board Room and Harry found it amusing that he was the
only male left to deliver orders.

Hermione had also not invited him back into the cave and Harry found it an appropriate time to
cool off from each other. Those small victories might have assuaged her competitiveness for a few
moments, but Harry knew that like a ticking clock, her mind would wander back to the mistakes and
she would retreat within herself to find the answers yet again. He could only hope that Luna had
learned something and stood up to the monstrosity sometimes known as Granger's brain.

At long last, the night where the thirteen champions would finally be revealed arrived. Their
whole year had submitted their names into the goblet with the exception of Draco, Goyle, and
Daphne. Daphne didn't fancy dying. Goyle reckoned that he would be more useful if he didn't
have to concentrate on the tournament. Draco claimed that he was likely to be the the Malfoy heir
with his father in prison and wanted nothing to jeopardize that. There was an obvious anxiousness
in the air as the four Houses and the two invited schools settled within the Great Hall for
dinner.

Instead of announcing the names to start the feast, Snape, and a host of other faces Harry did
not recognize, waited until the end of the dinner to reveal the participants of the Tournament of
Champions. Tracey told him as best she could who the other people were. There was Ludo Bagman,
Chair of Magical Games. There was Barty Crouch Sr., head of the Department of Magical Law
enforcement. Those were the two names that were easily recognizable to her. Blaise informed them
that the others were also Ministry officials, but in lesser positions whilst Harry also spotted an
elder Weasley, Percy if he could recall, at Crouch's side.

Harry could barely eat his dinner as he waited for time to pass by. He didn't know if he
wanted his name to be called out or not. If Snape was not lying, and that was never an assurance,
then the headmaster would have no control in whom the Goblet of Fire called. Still, Harry was not
without an ego and he watched expectantly as Snape stood and hushed the crowd. He made some small
pittance to the Ministry for allowing and supervising this *glorious* event, but that was not
what everyone wanted to hear.

Finally finishing with the proper introductions, Snape stepped towards the Goblet of Fire and
prepared to first call the names from Beauxbatons. Each Durmstrang and Beauxbatons had brought a
contingent of twenty to thirty of their best students. There would be many who were not called, but
they would still stay at school and participate in some sort of assisted learning program to
coincidence with their studies at their respective homes. It was of no surprise to Harry that the
first name the goblet spit out was Fleur Delacour.

The beautiful blonde smiled and Harry gave her credit for not trying to look abashed or
surprised. Clearly, she expected to be called and accepted Snape's invitation to the tournament
willingly as well as kissing Madame Maxime on each cheek. Fleur made eye contact with him and he
visibly clapped for her. He swore that her smile was meant for him. A few other names were
called.

“Petra Vale!” A tall brunette with short hair.

“Emma Robert!” A short girl that almost ran towards Snape in her eagerness to receive her
invitation.

“And finally,” Snape held a moment just for suspense, “Karim Tireur.”

It was the lone male that had come with Beauxbatons. Hermione had told him in passing that
Beauxbatons was initially an all female academy and that their integration had only been somewhat
recent. There was a distinct lack of male students still, but apparently this one had made the cut.
His skin was darker than the rest, most likely Morrocan by his features, with an already bald head
and sharp, dark eyes. Karim still carried himself with grace, like the rest of the Beauxbatons
students, but there was an extra pep of confidence in his step. Harry noticed that Luna,
especially, was watching him with interest.

They clapped for all of the Beauxbatons students but outside of Fleur, he did not know what to
expect of them. From years of dueling, he had instinctively tried to classify them but found
without any prior knowledge, he did not know a single strength or weakness to each of them. The
clapping ended as Snape began the honors for the Durmstrang Institute. Again and unsurprisingly,
Viktor Krum was the first name out of the fire. The giant man walked over to shake Snape's hand
and Harry found some small amusement to see the headmaster wince ever so slightly. Viktor might
have been a bit of a showboat, but that earned him some points in Harry's book.

“Georgi Tomak!” A bulky, if not slightly round, boy accepted his invitation with a rare smile
from the Durmstrang side.

“Anton Velick!” Another very sturdy student stepped forward as his mates congratulated him by
banging on the table. Indeed, Harry noticed that almost everyone from Durmstrang was solidly built,
certainly quite larger than the average Hogwarts student. He filed that mental note away for future
use.

“Alexandra Petrov!” One of two girls selected for Durmstrang, she was far more physical than any
of the Hogwarts girls and truthfully, Harry doubted he could take her in a fist fight. Dudley would
have fit in well with this crew.

“And finally...Hogwarts.”

Students from all four tables sat straighter at the sound of their school's name. He could
hear Blaise taking bets and odds for who would be picked, but he tuned him out, focusing only on
Snape's voice and the green fire of the goblet. The first name shot out of the goblet and Snape
caught it deftly, already practised from the twenty-six times he had done the task prior.

“Cedric Diggory!” A raucous cheer rose from the Hufflepuff table as their prized pupil
sheepishly walked towards the front of the Great Hall to join the other champions. It took a while
for the Hufflepuffs to settle down until Snape summoned the next name.

“Fred Weasley!” One of the Weasley twins jumped up on the table, bowing in every which way
direction. He picked up a goblet from a random Ravenclaw and drank it as he strode towards Snape.
Harry had to laugh as the Weasley twins were one of the few people in Hogwarts that went out of
their way to mock the usual doldrums of the fastidiously serious school.

“George Weasley!” Trying to outdo his twin, George did a merry jig, on the bench, coercing
several girls to do a quick dance as he joined his brother.

“Roger Davies!” Harry remembered the older Ravenclaw from his impromptu duel while he defended
Luna from another round of bullying. With much less fanfare than the Weasley twins, Roger joined
the other Hogwarts champions, shaking Cedric's hand and shaking his head with a hint of mirth
at the twins.

“Cho Chang!” Another roar from the Ravenclaw table as a the pretty girl gave Cedric a hug when
she stepped towards the Head Table.

“Angelina Johnson!” The black girl from Gryffindor was the first to look genuinely surprised
when her name was called but rushed up to the front with a quick gait. Her body was lean and
athletic and she looked to be close friends with the Weasley twins.

“Stephen Stebbins!” The seventh year Hufflepuff pumped his fist in the air and jumped off the
bench at the same time, such was his excitement. Cedric gave him a hearty handshake and Stebbins
ruffled his hair, an ear to ear smile etched on his face.

“Marietta Edgecombe!” Harry grit his teeth as he saw the girl bounce up to join the rest of her
housemates. She immediately started speaking with Cho and while Cho was very pretty, Harry's
impression of her dampened at the sight of what appeared to be a close friendship between her and
Marietta.

“Lee Jordan!” The Gryffindor boy with dreadlocks did not give a gregarious display like the
Weasley twins, but he took his time walking towards the podium and laughed when Fred and George
pretended not to acknowledge him.

*Four Gryffindors, three Ravenclaws, two Hufflepuffs, and no Slytherins,* Harry sadly
thought. *All Fifth Years and above.*

“Heather Locklear!” She was a seventh year Hufflepuff that was regularly hovered around the top
twenty of the Master List, but Harry knew nothing else besides that.

“Marcus Belby!” Harry was surprised to see the fifth year Ravenclaw join the champions. He had
always been a bit of a clumsy boy from what Harry had seen and regularly doubled his portions at
dinnertime.

*Eleven*, Harry counted off in his head. It seemed to be an age as the goblet decided the
next name and, indeed, there was an unusual moment of silence that had not existed so far that
night. The flames eventually made their choice and the small bit of parchment landed in Snape's
outstretched hand. As Snape read it, Harry instinctively knew what was about to be said. It was the
first time Snape had given pause before reading the name aloud.

“Harry Potter!”

Harry could hear the cheers around him and the congratulations from Tracey even as she squeezed
his arm in a death grip. Blaise clapped him on the back, their enmity temporarily forgotten, as the
other Slytherins stood up in unison to applaud him as one of their own was finally selected to
represent Hogwarts. Harry was in a bit of a daze as he walked towards Snape. He made eye contact
with the headmaster and prepared himself for a mental intrusion that never came. Fleur gave him
another one of her beautiful smiles and clapped her hands together twice. The Slytherins were still
cheering even as the last name shot out of the goblet, even the older ones who tried to ignore
Harry.

Harry's eyes flicked towards Snape and he watched as the headmaster visibly frowned as he
looked down at the last piece of parchment. The expression was wiped in an instant, but Harry had
learned that it would take something very unusual for Snape to show any sort of emotion. The
headmaster licked his lips, almost hesitating, as he checked the name one more time.

*It has to be*.

“Hermione Granger…”

Snape trailed off, lacking the unusual pomp that he added when announcing the names. There was a
strange silence as everyone looked towards the last champion of Hogwarts. Even Hermione was stunned
to have been chosen, as she quickly looked to Harry for confirmation. When he nodded, she stood up,
the scrape of her plate screeching loudly in the oddly quiet Great Hall. She took one step before
normal service resumed.

“GRANGER!” Fred and George Weasley yelled, stomping and dancing as Hermione approached them. The
rest of Hogwarts finally applauded and the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons folks joined in, unsure as to
why there was hesitation.

She took slow steps, almost as if she were unsure that this was not a joke. Harry had known that
her prime motivation for throwing her name in the goblet was to inspire confidence for her from her
fellow housemates. Yet, here she was, standing by his side. Snape strode forward and gestured with
a large sweep of his arm towards the thirty-nine people at the front of the Head Table. With his
back turned towards the majority of the populace, Snape stopped with his gaze firmly on Hermione
and though they were in front of the school for everyone to see, Harry put a comforting hand on her
back for just a few seconds as Snape stared at her.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Snape boomed out, his voice suddenly amplifying as the gravitas of the
moment reached its peak.

“The Tournament of Champions.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

“Do you need any more signs that perhaps you have underestimated her?”

“I am not foolish enough to think that she would be powerful enough to bewitch the goblet, but
she has proven herself *very* resourceful.”

“And it seems that the goblet also *knows* that the boy is strong enough for this
tournament.”

“I am not fond of when we are not in control. That was a gamble relying on the founder's
magic with the goblet. But now that it has picked the right people, we will see if the boy can
handle it.”

“What do you think he will do? He has to worry about the Board Room. He's trying to recreate
it. He will still be in regular battles. He will be competing in the tournament. He will be
contending against those who wish him ill. Is this enough to break him?”

“That is intent, to see if he will reach a shattering point. Yet, I think we need to accelerate
the schedule still. There are a myriad of dangerous challenges ahead, but he needs to start
learning who he will be fighting against. We need to start focusing the weapon.”

“Have you seen more from the map? Did he pop up again?”

“No. I don't know if it was the trick of the eye, but I have not seen it appear again and
despite who created the map, it is an accurate piece of magic. That does not matter. I want to keep
the boy motivated. The challenges can never stop.”

“And the girl? What will you do with her?”

“Perhaps there is hope for her yet. I have only met one Muggleborn in my lifetime that has
matched my expectations. What do you think would happen to the boy if she…”

“You can not extrapolate what you felt for his mother to him. I know it is what fuels you, but
do you not agree that there is a possibility that she will *help* him?”

“I am not worried that she will be incompetent. I have seen enough to realize that she will have
her uses. I worry what would happen to him if anything were to happen to her. Without her, he would
still be able to do what we ask of him. So she might help him. She might be very useful to him, but
we risk...catastrophe. I, of all people, know the devastation that can cause.”

“And here it looks like we might not have a choice. Whether you like it or not, she has found a
way into our plans.”

“And when have you been so accepting of alterations? We will see what role she will play. In the
mean time, preparations need to be made. As every day goes by, we will have less and less influence
on the situation at hand. The boy will need to know the enemy.”

“That is what I worry.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I am not like you. You grew up in the darkness. You were accustomed it and accepted it.
When I stared into the black death of the night, it took me a while to realize that I was not
alone.”

“And you worry that the boy will flinch when he sees what he has to face?”

“No. I worry that when he stares into the black, he will embrace it.”

* * * * * * *

**A/N: Projected update time: 22 days**
 Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7
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34. Question The Past
---------------------



*Up.*

*Down.*

*Up.*

*Down.*

Harry watched his wand levitate in midair, effortlessly floating while he laid in bed, waiting
for the sun to rise. He found it easy to do so after a few days of practice. Inspired by
Flamel's class a few weeks prior, Harry started levitating his wand, trying to see if he could
replicate his wandless magic from last year. At first, he struggled, barely able to float it an
inch off his hand. As he practised more, the task became simple. In the moment, he had thought
levitating the chair repeatedly had been a useless exercise but like any task, repetition often
brought about perfection.

He had barely a few hours of sleep and by the sounds of the snores in the dormitory, he was
still the first one awake. After the announcement of the champions, they were all brought into a
back room where the rules were collectively explained to them. The tournament was to consist of
three tasks and each task would be graded based upon the collective performance of each school. The
winner at the end would receive the spoils and while all of the tasks had been approved by the
Ministry, there was still an inherent danger about them. Since there were so many competitors for
this special event, the Ministry did change one rule.

Anyone that wished to exit the tournament could do so without individual penalty.

Harry lowered his floating wand, concentrating on the act of levitation as he made it sway from
side to side. He had some level of control over the wand besides forcing it to ascend and descend.
He had not yet tried the spell on a larger object, but he intended to test his limits. If he could
improve every day, that would give him a palpable advantage over almost all of the students at
Hogwarts. He doubted they could perform the same level of wandless magic, or any at all, if he kept
practicing.

After the rules were discussed and magical contracts were signed, they were shooed away to
return to their dormitories. Ludo Bagman, the Chair of Magical Games, mentioned something about a
media day, but there were so many people crammed into the room that Harry didn't catch the rest
of Bagman's statement. He didn't even have the chance to talk to Hermione as she, too, was
sent away without another word.

Even simple wandless magic such as levitation took a toll after a certain amount of time. Harry
didn't want to exhaust himself even though Battle class wasn't on the schedule for the day.
Finally letting the wand drop into his open palm, Harry heard the first signs of life from his dorm
mates. From his bed, which was still close to the door and isolated from the others, Harry opened
one of the curtains as he saw Draco rise and take a sip from the jug at his bedside.

“Malfoy. Wake up Blaise,” Harry said.

Draco looked over his shoulder, his disheveled blond hair swinging about as he tried to locate
the source of the voice. When he saw it was just Harry, he nodded and knocked his knuckles against
the bedpost of Blaise's four poster bed. Harry could hear Blaise mumble and complain and
allowed himself a smile. Though he and Blaise were not as close as they were before, it was hard to
not to be amused by Blaise's lackadaisical approach. If only it didn't seep into every
facet of his life.

Already fully clothed, Harry swung his legs out of bed and swayed momentarily as he stood up.
Reminding himself not to push the wandless magic too far so early in the morning, he waved a tired
Draco and Blaise closer towards the door. The others would likely wake up soon and while they would
likely hear their new orders eventually, Harry wanted to take this amount to just inform Draco and
Blaise of his future plans.

“I want you two to start taking over most of the in-game strategic choices. Split up everyone up
into pairs this time and try to keep them balanced. I don't want Goyle and Millicent together.
Draco, I want you to be the roamer. Float in between the groups however you see fit. Remember that
just because they're broken into four teams this time doesn't mean that you can't
combine them together. Just keep yourselves tactically flexible,” Harry instructed.

“Won't you still be in the Board room?” Blaise asked.

“I will be, but I have a feeling that the tournament is likely to keep me busy. I'll still
be operating Commander, but I don't want to make too many mistakes. If all of the reliance
continues to be on me, there is likely to be a mistake from fatigue or exhaustion. I am still
human.”

Blaise raised his eyebrows and looked away but said nothing else. Harry bit his tongue, choosing
not to reprimand him.

“I'll tell the others to take your instruction from now on. You've both performed very
well and I think they will respect each of you and have no problem to listening to either of you.
Can you two both do that?”

Harry had initially wanted to groom just one person to start designing plans and strategies but
decided against it. He still wanted the chain of command to go through him and if he appointed a
lone successor then there was a possibility the Slytherins would start listening to another
commander beside himself. Despite his need to cover the gaps likely to be exposed as he focused on
other things, Harry still thought he was the best at what he did and didn't want to ruin all of
his good work.

“Who has the final directive to give orders?” Draco asked. He spared a sidelong glance at
Blaise, trying to gauge the other boy's reaction. “I don't mean any disrespect to Blaise,
but if we have to make a split second decision in the field and we have differing opinions, it
won't make things easy for the rest of the group.”

“Run it through me. I'll still be listening in even if I miss something,” Harry carefully
said, not wanting to incur any intra-House fighting already.

“And if you're not there?” Blaise asked, equally game to asking the difficult question.

“If that's the case, defer to Draco. He'll be running point as the roamer and will
probably have a better vantage point but work *together*,” Harry emphasized. “The point of
this is to make sure we don't overexpose ourselves and to correct any mistakes should I miss
something. Is that understood?”

Harry could feel the burning glare of Blaise and raised his eyes to match his friend's.
Blaise said nothing, but he didn't need to. It was a slight to put Draco ahead of him as Blaise
was the one chosen for Leadership classes. In combination to what Harry had already put him
through, it was easy for Blaise to hold some resentment towards Harry. Nonetheless, Harry had
reviewed the tapes thoroughly and decided that Draco was not only the superior duelist, but he was
the better strategist as well. Draco was one of the first who recognized the importance of
*Lostrego* and the intimidation it could cause. While Harry understood that Blaise
*should* have been the one to be second in command, the realities of the Battle room compelled
Harry to pick Draco as the de jure second.

“Yes, Commander,” Draco said.

“Yeah, Com,” Blaise said, purposefully using the nickname as a slight sign of disrespect. Harry
had half a mind to say something but bit his tongue again, letting Blaise go off and lick his
wounds in peace.

*Who would have thought last year that Draco would be my second in charge and that Blaise
would hate me? Friends and enemies, indeed.*

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Sitting alone at breakfast, Harry kept one eye on Draco and Blaise as they disseminated his
orders for the others to hear. It was hard to tell their reactions from afar, but judging by how
many heads were nodding, they seemed to understand. Nonetheless, Tracey tore away from them and
plopped down across from him.

“Yes, Tracey?” Harry asked in between bites of his scrambled eggs.

“Blaise told me that we're deferring to Draco if you aren't able to give me a response,”
Tracey said bluntly.

“Technically true.”

She fixed him with a glare, her blue eyes chilly. “Why are you doing this to him? He missed one
practice. Haven't you embarrassed Blaise enough?”

“I'm not *trying* to embarrass him. Malfoy, whether I like it or not, has been the most
consistent performer on the ground. He has shown the most strategic acumen and performed well
beyond expectations. Even if he still is a smarmy prick, I'm not going to give second command
to Blaise just because he's my friend,” Harry patiently explained.

“Sure, I could believe that, but Blaise is also the one chosen for the Leadership track. Do you
know how undermining it is that you don't choose him to be the one to defer to?”

“I put them both in charge of covering the gaps! It's supposed to be equal positions, but
they put me on the spot and that's my answer, or do you deny that Malfoy has been better than
Blaise this year?”

“It's not about that,” Tracey said, trying to dismiss the obvious truth. “Aren't you at
all worried about losing your friend?”

Harry shrivelled up emotionally, resenting that Tracey thought he was doing this just to spite
Blaise. Couldn't she see that this was a purely tactical decision? He had a strong desire to
vent on how naive she was, but he held his tongue in public. Harry didn't want the others to
see Tracey publicly having a row with him. He leaned closer, making sure she heard him.

“My decision is final.”

Tracey leaned away from him, her normally beautiful face contorted in a disgusted expression.
She hid it away quickly, also realizing that breaking Slytherin solidarity wouldn't be
beneficial to any of them, but Harry knew her well enough to know that she was far more than upset
with him. She stood up and slid his timetable towards him.

“Your altered schedule, Commander,” she snarled.

Harry kept his eyes on her, trying to quell the anger that she incurred. Glancing down at his
timetables out of habit, he was surprised to find that all of the classes were cleared. Instead, a
single line of instruction was inscribed at the top.

*Report to the Third Floor.*

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

As soon as he saw Hermione also on the third floor, Harry realized that his free schedule must
have had something to do with the tournament. When Cedric, Stephen Stebbins, and Heather Locklear
appeared at the same time, his suspicions were confirmed. Slowly, the rest of the champions filed
in, including the ones from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang.

Harry saw Fleur surrounded by a cluster of girls and made eye contact. He gave her a slight
smile and a wave and she responded in kind except she did it in such a way that attracted the
attention of almost all of the males in her vicinity.

“New friend?” Hermione asked, staring at Fleur, though not in the way most of her male peers
were doing so.

“We met briefly. Introduced ourselves.”

“She's going to be trouble.”

“Why's that?”

“I've heard she's very competent,” she answered, looking Harry in the eye.

“That's what I've heard too.” Harry could barely contain the slightest hint of the smirk
that crept onto his face. Hermione gave one of her infamous eye rolls and turned away from the
beautiful, French girl.

“Our champions!”

The booming voice could only belong to Ludo Bagman and Harry was pleased to see that Snape had a
sour expression on his face as he walked alongside the loud and brash man. They couldn't be any
more different. Snape, sour and taciturn, walking next to Bagman, exuberant and excited, provided
one of the funnier sights in Hogwarts.

“As I said last night, we're going to get ahead of the game and have our media day today, so
if you could just follow me. Go on! Go on! Let's move!” Ludo clapped his hands together,
physically ushering the thirty-nine contestants towards a spare room. Inside, Harry was surprised
to find numerous set up stations armed with what looked to be make up artists.

“What is this?” Hermione asked, slowly turning on the spot to take in her surroundings.

“Well, first we have to do pictures. Individual pictures. Group pictures. Maybe a few action
shots if we have the time. You're going to be all over the Daily Prophet, folks! We want you to
look good for the camera,” Bagman explained.

“No one told us about this,” Hermione said and Harry had more than a feeling that she was not
happy about this reveal.

“Our schedule is going to be very busy this year, Miss….Granger?” Bagman tentatively asked.

“That's me.”

“Well, it's going to be busy,” Bagman repeated. “So split up into your groups because we
have a score of interviews to do later as well.”

“Interviews?” Cedric spoke up this time.

“You know, I seem to remember Hogwarts being a lot smarter than this. We do NOT have time to
waste. Let's go!” Harry could see why Bagman was the chair of his position. If nothing else,
having a loud voice certainly caught the attention of the room even if he had nothing substantial
to say.

They were separated into different sides of the room according to school and each of them were
sat down in a chair facing a mirror. A woman with bright, purple hair approached Harry's left
and immediately ran a hand through his lengthy locks. He flinched away from her, looking up at the
witch in alarm.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“What are *you* doing?” she repeated. “The Boy Who Lived can't take care of his own
hair. This will have to go.”

“You mean to cut my hair?”

“I mean to do a lot of things with...*this*.” She gestured all around his face.

“I agree,” said the mirror.

“I don't really want my hair cut,” Harry argued.

She stepped back, looking at his reflection on the mirror. Mumbling something indistinguishable
to herself, she began to nod as if she agreed to some unasked question.

“It could work in a teenage angst sort of way.”

Harry was about to interject and ask exactly what she meant by *angst*, but his thoughts
were interrupted by a rather loud yelp from Hermione.

“No!” she said firmly. “A little bit of blush. The barest hint of eyeliner. Nothing. Else.
Definitely not that garish color you want me to put on my lips.”

Cedric laughed loudly at her protestations, drawing a glare from the Fourth Year Gryffindor.
Sensing that these people were fully ready to make alterations to his appearance, Harry turned to
the girl with the purple and asked, “What's your name?”

“Chantel.” She smiled and Harry saw that little images were drawn or pasted on her teeth.

“Okay, Chantel. You're not cutting my hair and you're not doing anything else to my
face.”

“But your scar..” She pouted and brushed his hair aside so that the lightning bolt etched on his
forehead was more visible. Harry batted her hand away and swept his hair back so it covered most of
his forehead again. It wasn't intentional on his part to grow his hair out so it covered the
scar, but once it did so, Harry was fond of keeping it that way.

“I'm done,” Harry said.

“Are you sure about that? Your face is about to be plastered all over the Daily Prophet and you
want to look like...that?” Chantel scrunched her face and the mirror verbally agreed with her
again.

“I'm sure I'll still make the front page.”

That brought another laugh from Cedric and Harry turned in his seat to see that he was actually
letting the woman apply some sort of spells to his face that brightened his cheeks and removed the
zits from his face. When Harry gave him an incredulous look, Cedric just shrugged and grinned
without turning his head.

“I figured I might as well play along,” he said.

By the looks of it, most others were playing along as well. While some of the guys were a little
more hesitant in changing their appearances, the girls, bar Hermione, happily let the makeup
artists do their work. Harry ran a hand through his hair and glanced over at the Durmstrang
students and was pleased to see that most were declining any efforts to color their faces. Krum, in
particular, scowled in his seat. No one came within a five foot berth of him and Harry had to
admire that sort of fearful aura.

After the primping was finished, the rest of the decor was levitated out of the room and
replaced with a variety of couches and love seats. Chantel then spent some time organizing in what
was deemed to be a dramatic fashion. She grabbed Harry by the arm and seated him on the armchairs
of one of the longer couches in a group picture of the Hogwarts champions. Harry denied her the
pleasure of moving his arms and legs into an exact pose. Chantel wanted him to to lean forward and
hold his chin, but Harry opted for standing with his arms crossed instead. Hermione glared daggers
as soon as Chantel neared the Gryffindor girl. Subsequently, no one dictated her pose either.

It was whirlwind of flash photography and numerous subsets of groups for the pictures. There was
an all boys picture, an all girls picture, and solo pictures as well. Harry had the same pose fo
all of them: crossing his arms and not quite scowling at the camera. It must have taken over an
hour to finally finish all of them and, frankly, Harry found it more exhausting than some Battle
classes.

Before Harry even had a chance to sit down, he was whisked away to a separate room and sat
across an older, plump woman. She had an unnaturally round head, almost resembling a donut. Her
dark hair was sticking up in odd directions and her clothes were tinged in a deep red. A smile
revealed crooked and stained teeth as a parchment and quill raced across the table and settled in
between them.

“I'm not going to sugarcoat this for you. I have waited a very long time to finally meet you
in person. How is that the most celebrated person in the wizarding world has somehow found a way to
completely avoid the press? Of course, that's a rhetorical question since none of us are ever
allowed into this wonderful fortress. For all of the things that have changed in the past two
decades, I must say that they still have the same outdated decor in these hallways. I would have
thought that the headmaster would go with something more intimidating. A lot more black. What am I
saying? I'm rambling now. A little bit about me. I graduated here with the class of `69 and I
know what you're thinking. Stop thinking that.”

“I was a Gryffindor and in our times, the rivalry between your House and mines was not nearly as
intense. After all, we were in a happier time between Dark Lords, and we didn't feel the need
to constantly antagonize each other. I graduated with rather low scores in my OWL's and
NEWT's. Suffice to say I wasn't accepted in any of those prestigious Ministry jobs. Yet, I
have found that there is a place for everyone in this world. I had no particular skills. My only
saving grace was an unnatural ability to dedicate myself to a temporary obsession. Still, even that
can be cultivated. Journalism requires that sort of madness. What other profession is dedicated to
finding out everything - and I mean everything Mr. Potter - about someone else? To crawl into every
crevice and open every door and dig every hole just to find some innocuous piece of information
that you can only hope your readers latch onto.”

“So imagine my surprise when I could find next to nothing about you. Oh, I sifted through the
Potter records and found lots on your parents. I can detail your lineage back to some rather wicked
wizards, but that's hardly your fault. I can even pinpoint the exact location and time when you
got that infamous scar on your forehead. Yet, there is nothing from that point onwards besides the
occasional sighting outside King's Cross before the school year starts. You are an enigma
wrapped in a mystery thrown out of a window and drowned in a river that has whisked you away into a
bottomless pit somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic.”

She finally stopped speaking, the train of words echoing in the nearly empty room and
overlapping until it seemed like the woman was speaking forever. The smile had vanished from her
face, replaced by an expression that was a cross between curiosity and anger. Never had Harry heard
someone that could speak so long and say so much with barely a breath. If she had taken one, it was
well masked.

“But here you are; an almost normal boy except for one telling feature. My name is Aristophanes.
Are you ready for the world to know you, Harry?”

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Shellshocked.

That was the only word Harry could use to describe his emotions as the day drew to an end.
Poked, prodded, and interrogated, he wished that he would have gone through two Battle classes
instead of the neverending line of people that marked press day for the champions. Aristophanes had
been the worst of them all and Harry already regretted anything that he was tricked into saying.
Her questions came fast and her counterpoints even faster. She promised to be fair in her write-up,
but if Harry had learned anything at all at Hogwarts, very few people were fair.

Judging by the deep scowl on Hermione's face, her day had not been any better. Even though
she had protested any excessive makeup, the little she did have one brought out her better
features. Her eyes were more expressive, the emotion visible as her eyes darted around, constantly
absorbing information. Her hair was straightened and swept into a tight bun, framing her face
better instead of the usual untamable jungle. Harry swept aside any pretense and approached her in
the middle of the hallway, figuring that anyone who saw their interaction would assume they were
just talking about champion business.

Before he could talk to her, however, Snape called out his name. It was rare for the headmaster
to speak to him in the halls where everyone was within earshot, so it must have been important.
Harry was instantly alert, his Occlumency shields rising as he prepared his mind for any
intrusions. He looked Snape in the eye, confident that a competent enough Occlumens to at least
detect an attack.

“There has been an alteration in your schedule, Mr. Potter. Please check it when you have a
moment.”

Snape left without another word, his billowing robes floating an inch off the ground as he
descended the staircase. Harry still had the constantly updating schedule in his pocket and pulled
it out. In the rare after dinner timeslot where detention was usually scheduled, Harry saw that he
would have to meet with Trow. There was no other descriptor besides the professor's classroom
which was an oddity. Harry inaudibly signaled to Hermione that there was indeed a change in his
schedule by pointing at the paper. He would have to rush down a few flights in order to make it on
time.

Collecting himself before he entered the classroom, Harry found that Trow was not the only one
within. Professor Lupin was seated in one of the student chairs as he conversed with the older
professor. Trow looked up to see Harry enter the room and beckoned him forward with a kind smile.
The Strategy teacher looked considerably better, even gaining a little color in his cheeks. Lupin,
fresh off a full moon, contrasted the healthy upturn of Trow.

“Good to see you, Harry. I was worried you wouldn't be able to tear away from the excited
rabble up there,” Trow said.

“I managed to escape in the end. Snape, I mean, the headmaster told me to show up here. Have I
done something?” Harry asked.

Trow smiled as if Harry said a joke. “Why, of course not. We probably should have told you
earlier, but I figured that today would be enough of a shock. You have been assigned additional
classes as per your curriculum in the Theory track.”

Harry did not remember any additional classes when he covered the objectives of the Theory
track. Even if there were additional classes, wouldn't it be with Flamel and not Trow? Neither
of that even explained why Lupin was there.

“Are the other Theory students in different classes then?”

This time, Lupin laughed and Harry wondered if he was secretly a comedian that didn't
understand his own stand-up. The werewolf stood from his seat and looked at Trow. The Strategy
professor nodded back at him and again gestured for Harry to take a seat.

“I suggest you sit, Harry. There's a lot we have to cover and if you have any questions at
the end, we will gladly answer them."

There was something amiss about this situation and the years of simulated battles caused
Harry's analytical side to kick in. There was absolutely no reason for Professor Lupin to be
here. He was the Creatures teacher and had never offered any lessons in strategy or theory besides
the advice Harry sought after hours. The fact that Trow twice requested for Harry to take a seat
was also a strange demand.

Harry wanted to see where this was taking him, so he seated himself in the front row and
patiently awaited what Trow and Lupin had to say. The Creatures professor waved his wand and
brought down the projector screen. Walking over to the projector, he turned it on and flicked the
switch to display an image on the screen.

It was an image of a young man a few years older than Harry. He was handsome, with a strong
jawline and high cheek bones. Yet, there was something in his eyes. Even in a still picture, there
was a sense of movement behind them. It wasn't quite sinister. Unsettling would be a better
word to describe the emotion invoked within Harry when he looked at this stranger's eyes. The
stranger's smile also seemed to mock him.

Trow spoke up after a moment. “I sometimes wish that we had kept teaching History of Magic. Of
course, Professor Binns would have been replaced, but it is important to know the past in order to
inform yourself for the future. After all, that is how we learn which strategies should be used and
which should be reconsidered. Unfortunately, there is an immediacy that was required and that
course had to be abandoned for the mean time.”

Trow wasn't speaking to Harry but to the image on the screen. He was standing in front of
it, almost as if he were lecturing the stranger instead of Harry. Harry looked at Lupin and saw
that the Creatures teacher had a stormy expression on his face.

“Who is he?” Harry asked.

“He was a Hogwarts student quite some time ago. Bright, ambitious, and full of ingenuity. He was
a Slytherin, like you, that many admired for not embracing the more obvious Dark Arts. Though he
was gifted at many subjects, he was quite adept at Potions, creating concoctions that interested
not only his professors but the Ministry as well. Prefect and eventually Head Boy, he was probably
the most gifted student that Hogwarts had seen for some time.”

Trow nodded his head at Lupin and the werewolf flicked his wand at the projector to display the
next image. Harry noted that Trow curiously did not use his own wand. Another image popped up this
time. There was the faintest amount of recognition as Harry looked upon the next face on the
screen. It was another young man a few year older than Harry. This man had a long nose and sunken
cheeks, thin eyebrows and thin lips with wild, blond hair. He looked every bit as charming as the
previous person.

“This student was from Durmstrang and I doubt Headmaster Karakoff would appreciate me showing
this to you. Nonetheless, he is quite an infamous character in our history. He was also very
intelligent but very overt with his...non-traditionalist views. Nonetheless, he was a passionate
and very ambitious man. Even at a young age, you could sense that the world was his to take.”

Pausing, Trow stroked each of his cheeks as he gazed at the Durmstrang student on the screen.
Harry continued to stare at the image, wondering where he knew that face from. Professor Trow was
right in that very little history was taught, but there were still piles of books in the library as
well as various outside resources. It was on the tip of his tongue. All he needed was one clue.

“This is Gellert Grindelwald. This picture was taken before he was expelled from the Durmstrang
Institute. I wanted to show you this so you could understand that very few people *look* like
a Dark Lord when they are younger. While many knew of Grindelwald's dark tendencies, only a
handful of people even dared to predict what he would go on to do. Even now, people are afraid to
speak of what he did and it is often glossed over in the history text. The press distorted it as
sometimes it is better to not reveal the whole truth as the whole truth is too disturbing for most
people to understand.”

Harry remembered getting the Grindelwald card from a Chocolate Frog. He had never read up more
on him besides the description on the card. The Grindelwald on the Chocolate Frog card was ominous
and sinister, and while Harry could see how the young Grindelwald would eventually become the
feared dark wizard, it wasn't a foregone conclusion just from the picture.

“What did Grindelwald do?” Harry asked.

Trow stroked his chin and Harry still had the distinct feeling that the professor was talking to
the picture rather than Harry.

“Grindelwald had an obsession with old, magical artefacts. In particular, he had a deep
fascination with the fabled Deathly Hallows. He believed that if he obtained these objects, he
could have better control over those who resisted his pull. Grindelwald was always about control.
He experimented frequently with the Imperious Curse, pushing the boundaries of how far he could
push people. It was...a shock to him when he realized the Deathly Hallows were just a fable. It
drove him to madness and no could ever really pull him out after that.”

“He imagined himself a puppeteer. Some say he even fashioned a spell that could control multiple
people. Of course, like all those who crave control, anyone that went against him had their
strings…”

Trow made a slicing motion with his hand and the image disappeared as the torches illuminated
the room. Harry had to blink to readjust to the different brightness as the projector shut off and
Trow finally walked away from the screen.

“But Dumbledore defeated him, right? That's what I read on the card,” Harry said.

Trow nodded but avoided Harry's curious gaze. Instead, it was Lupin who answered
verbally.

“Yes, he did,” Lupin said. “But not before he killed several prominent officials in the
Buglarian Ministry of Magic and countless others. His influences ran deep, tainting a generation of
Durmstrang students and a score of other wizards that adapted his desire for control. He was a
growing power and left unchecked, who knows what might have come from his base in Nurmengard. Of
course, the most fascinating thing about Grindelwald was that he believed what he was doing was
right. All he wanted to do was shape the world in the image he thought fit best. He very much
believed that the means fully justified the ends.”

“Didn't anyone try to stop him?” Harry asked.

“No.”

It was very rare that Trow injected any emotion into the things he said. Trow often pushed Harry
to displace himself from the situation and view it as objectively as possible. It was a surprise
that there was an inflection of bitterness and disgust in Trow's one-word response.

“They had to rely on a Transfiguration professor from Hogwarts to defeat Grindewald,” Trow
said.

Harry interjected, “Wasn't Dumbledore the most powerful wizard at the time?”

“He might have been, but he was still only one man. Should the governments of Europe rely on one
man when it comes to defeating dark wizards? Should they wait until then?” Trow asked and this
time, Harry knew the professor was asking him the question.

“I guess they should have tried to stop him if they could.”

“And what if they couldn't?”

“Why wouldn't they be able to? Didn't Bulgaria have the equivalent of Aurors?”

“Aurors that were better trained at cleaning up Muggle-Wizard incidents than battling Dark
Lords. Your perception of an average Auror is skewed by the several graduates of Hogwarts in recent
years. In Grindelwald's time, Aurors were no better trained than your average wizard when it
came to battling Dark Lords. They just had the authority that allowed others to defer to them,”
Lupin added.

“So you're saying that there's nothing anyone could have done to stop Grindelwald?!”

“If it weren't for Dumbledore, there was every chance that Grindelwald would have pushed his
way into England,” Lupin softly said.

*What are they trying to tell me?*

They wouldn't both go through all this trouble just to give him a history lesson. There were
parallels to be drawn, not the least of which that they described Grindelwald and the unknown
student as young and powerful. Given the speeches that Lupin had given him, Harry assumed that they
saw the same prowess within himself. The question was: Did they also believe he could become a dark
wizard?

“Pardon if I'm going off-track, but what does this have to do with Theory?” Harry
wondered.

Trow smiled at him, finally shaking off the moodiness that had overtaken him. “I'm afraid we
weren't too forthcoming with you from the start. Before you ask more questions, please hear us
out until the end. Is that okay with you, Harry?”

Harry nodded, still trying to understand the objective of this lesson.

“The seeds of the project started after Grindelwald,” Trow began again, “Was there a way to
prevent what Grindelwald did? Was there a way to stop Grindelwald before he got to the height of
his power? How could it be done? Of course, these questions have been asked for centuries. There
had to be a balance. A light against the darkness. Often, we would watch and then turn a blind eye
to what we wished to ignore.”

“No more,” Lupin growled.

“No more ignorance. No more blindness. We can not pretend that the monsters only hide in the
dark,” Trow finished.

Harry finally realized what they were trying to tell him.

“Hogwarts.”

Lupin nodded. “You have to have people capable enough to take on dark wizards.”

The Creatures professor flicked his wand and the torches dimmed again. The projector whirred to
live as the screen came down and another image was splashed onto it. It was the first picture. The
young man with the unsettling eyes.

“And who's he?” Harry asked.

Trow and Lupin stared at the picture as if they were mesmerized by the image. They must have
both known him judging by the emotions flitting across their face. Lupin was all animalistic anger.
His jaw was clenched, his eyes narrow, and his lips pressed tight. Trow was more somber, a visage
of contemplation. It was he who finally spoke.

“Tom Marvolo Riddle.”

“Am I supposed to know who he is?” Harry said.

“In the months to come, you will learn every facet of his life.”

“Why?”

Lupin waved his wand and the image changed one last time. This picture was unlike the others. It
was not a young man, but an old creature that was deformed beyond recognition. His eyes were narrow
slits, the irises somehow narrowed so the whites of his eyes were visible from a mile away. His
hair was gone, his head smooth and scaly. Where his nose would be were two slits. Yet, there was a
still a slight smile on his thin lips. If ever a smile could be cruel and mocking, it belonged to
this man.

The image flicked back towards the young man then towards the old creature. Lupin kept
oscillating between the two even after Harry had figured out who it was. As soon as Harry saw the
old man on the screen, there was an internal trigger. He might have only seen his face as a
toddler, a brief glance into the abyss, but there was no mistaking who was on the screen. The two
images became a blur until Harry could barely distinguish one from the other. It was his past, his
present, and if the professors were right, Harry's future.

“Voldemort.”

* * * * * * * * * * *

**A/N: Projected update time: 35 days**
 Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7
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35. And Fire
------------



Hermione detested large group meetings. Often, they would devolve into a sounding board for
grievances against one another instead of actually developing a solution. There was too much
politics involved. A solution couldn't be presented because it would offend another
person's ideas. Credit for an answer would be taken by the person least deserving of it. It was
a chaotic mess that could often be simplified by not having the meeting at all.

When Cedric Diggory asked each of the champions in person to meet at the unused Astronomy tower,
Hermione suspected the worst.

She arrived at the astronomy tower thirty minutes ahead of time. Considering it was unlikely
anyone else was there, she waited another fifteen minutes before entering the tower. Opening the
door, she was surprised to find Cedric already present. He was levitating the thirteen chairs
around the circular table he managed to fit in the small tower. As he lowered the last seat, he
noticed Hermione standing in the doorway and smiled at her.

“Your reputation precedes you, Hermione,” Cedric said.

“And what reputation is that?” Hermione asked.

*Intelligent. Aloof. Bitch.*

He pointed at her and flashed that million Galleon smile again. “Harry always said you were the
most prepared dueler he ever encountered.”

*Wrong.*

*Harry thinks I focus on the minutiae of logistics and spellwork instead of dynamism and
flexibility. Of course, it's a lot easier to say that when you can perform wandless
magic.*

“Even Harry gets things right sometimes,” she said, not bothering to correct him.

“I have a feeling he gets things right more than he gets things wrong. He even manages to worm
himself into conversations when he's not even here. Forgive me. I don't think we've
ever properly met. Cedric Diggory.”

He walked towards her and stuck out his hand in a very proper greeting. Hermione had a feeling
he would have a very firm grip; such was the approach of the Alpha. She extended her hand and
accepted the handshake.

*Correct*.

Cedric disengaged and waved his arm over the table. “Come take a seat. I suspect we won't be
seeing the others for another few minutes unless someone else decided to be very punctual.”

*Unlikely. I actually arrived here fifteen minutes ago.*

Hermione chose the seat at the three o'clock spot of the table. She preferred having her
back to the wall and enjoyed the scenic view of the Forbidden Forest. From her seat, she could see
the canopy of the large forest and the mountains that stretched out behind it. It was a sunny day,
unusually warm for November, and there was very little wind, even in the Astronomy tower. Summoning
one of her leather bound journals from her bag, Hermione placed it atop the table and opened to a
specific page.

The page in question had specific notes and details on every Hogwarts champion. It had taken
some time to collect all of the information, but if they were going to fight together for this
tournament, then she wanted to know all of their strengths and weaknesses. Every free hour for the
better part of two weeks had been devoted to this vast array of notes. Hermione had categorized all
of their fighting abilities as well as ranking them as a way of deciding who was going to be most
useful.

First on her list was the person sitting across from her.

“What do you have there?” he asked.

She didn't know whether it was small talk or if he was genuinely interested in her notes.
Her default mode was not to trust anyone's motives, so she responded, “Just some notes and
questions I wrote down for this meeting.”

He raised his eyebrows as he tried to read the journal upside down. “That's a lot of notes
and questions for one meeting.”

“Well, I do like to come prepared. I'm good at that. What are you good at?”

“That much I can see,” Cedric said with a wry smile. “I'm a pretty good flier. Shame they
don't have Quidditch here anymore though. Do you have any questions for me while we're
waiting?”

*How did you learn the Patronus Charm at age fifteen? Why do you tend to use Expelliarmus
instead of Stupefy? Against Marcus Flint last year, you used a spell that conjured a giant ball of
water that enveloped the Slytherin. Natural element conjuration isn't taught at Hogwarts. Where
did you learn that? You increased your use of non-verbal spells almost 63% from last year. Was
there an epiphany you had regarding non-verbals?*

“Do you think we stand a chance of winning?” Hermione asked instead.

“I think we have a very strong group and if we work together, there's no reason for us not
to win.”

*Hedging. Why is he hedging? No point in saying maybe.*

Hermione nodded as if she accepted his answer and returned to her notes. They sat in silence for
a few minutes as Hermione reviewed each of the champions. After a while, she noticed that Cedric
was steadfastly staring at her. Without looking up, she asked, “What is it?”

He squinted at her, cocking his head as he examined the top of her head since she was still
reading from her journal. “Are you sure you're not a Ravenclaw? I've never known a
Gryffindor to be so…”

“Studious?” Hermione finished.

“I was going to say serious. Then again, maybe I just think all Gryffindors are like Fred and
George.”

*Wrong.*

*Fred and George can be serious when they want to. They're an ambitious pair with plenty
of postgraduate ideas. They could also be very cruel.*

In her experience with pranksters in Muggle primary schools, there was an always undercurrent of
cruelty in their jokes. They were just as likely to laugh at their victim as well as laughing with
them. She remembered a time when Fred and George snuck a few spiders into one of Ron's
backpacks, causing the second youngest Weasley to scream in terror in the Common Room. Fred and
George were smart enough to know Ron's obvious inferiority complex, so why did they go out of
their way to embarrass him in public? Perhaps it was a sibling relationship she didn't
understand, but Hermione found it cruel and unnecessary.

On cue, the twins arrived, boisterously loud and obnoxious as usual. Lee Jordan and Stephen
Stebbins entered after them, raising the count to six champions. They took their seats in a cluster
near Cedric.

“Lo, Hermione!” Fred said. He had a slightly longer face than his brother. It was easy to
distinguish which twin it was after spending so much time with them.

She nodded back at him, content to keep her silence for the time being. The five boys exchanged
some talk about Quidditch teams that didn't interest her. A few minutes passed until the door
opened again. This time, Marietta Edgecombe and Cho Chang walked into the room, Angelina Johnson
and Roger Davies not far behind. They all talked amongst themselves, excluding her from the
conversation.

*They're more comfortable with each other. That means they're going to reinforce each
other when it comes time to do the tasks in the tournament.*

Stephen Stebbins, Heather Locklear, and Marcus Belby were the next trio to join their meeting.
Marcus, the Ravenclaw only a year ahead of her, politely nodded at Hermione as he took the seat
beside her. That left the only seat to be between her and Cho.

*Belby has an affinity for Potions. He was able to produce an Endless Fire potion within a
House match that got him in trouble with Snape in his Third Year. However, he's not a
particularly skilled duelist, barely managing a positive win rate in individual duels. No malintent
detected in his spell pool.*

Seven at night was their proposed meeting time and it wasn't until five minutes past that
Harry finally appeared. He burst through the door as if he had ran up the whole flight of stairs.
The dozen people turned to look at the Bringer of Lightning and he took a second to catch his
breath. The only path to the empty seat required him to walk around the circular table. Out of the
corner of her eye, Hermione saw Fred nudge George in the arm right before Harry sat down.

*No.*

The chair collapsed beneath Harry and engulfed him in colorful, conjured feathers. He took a
second as the feathers fluttered to the ground, artfully gathering around him. Marietta guffawed
loudly at Harry's plight while the others barely contained their laughter. George look at Fred
with feigned seriousness and said, “Looks like our poor Slytherin here has gotten himself in a bit
of a...hairy situation.”

“Really?” Fred said rhetorically. “They're feathers. That doesn't make any sense. You
couldn't have just conjured a bunch of hair?”

“I went for the dramatic effect.” George shrugged.

Cedric cut them off. “Alright, enough.”

Harry muttered an *Evanesco* to clean himself up and restored his chair as well. Hermione
blinked as she saw him wave his hand instead of his wand to fix his chair with a simple
*Reparo*. Judging by the lack of incredulity from everyone else, she must have been the only
one who noticed.

*More wandless magic, Harry? You've been busy.*

Harry looked quite tired, the dark circles only one symptom of his fatigue. She had rarely seen
him in the past week, even when she summoned him through the coin. His response was that he had
some extra classes with Trow and when she pressed him for more information, Harry had been slow to
respond. Even now, he was late to the meeting. It also never ceased to amaze her how cruel others
could be. Fred and George must have been planning to prank Harry before they even entered the room
and while they played it off as a joke, there was an implied warning to the lone Slytherin: your
past achievements mean nothing here.

Cedric stood to address everyone. “I called this meeting so we can get a sense of each other and
try to understand our strengths and weaknesses.”

*I can tell you every one of them for each person at this table.*

“We're going to be in this together and there are going to be some dangerous tasks ahead.
Whatever goes on at Hogwarts with everything stays in the Room. I've looked at Durmstrang and
Beauxbatons and while they don't go through day to day training like us, they are far less
fragmented. They deal with each other on a more regular basis, so I think we should start learning
and even training with each other.”

*Harry's training ideas.*

“Kind of packs our schedule, doesn't it?” Roger asked.

Cedric nodded. “Yes. They don't separate the students into Houses, so they have a lot of
familiarity with each other. They also don't have the sort of competition we have here. I think
all of you know what I'm getting at…”

The Hufflepuff had certainly done his homework. Hermione had reached the same conclusions when
she began her initial research on the two other schools before they even arrived at Hogwarts. That
Cedric would be so bold as to imply their rivalries would hinder them was quite a progressive
step.

“Good thing there's only one Slytherin here, right?” Marietta said.

Harry barely bristled at the insult. In fact, it was as if he hadn't heard her at all. He
was staring at the forest, a heavy look on his face. When everyone swiveled to him for an expected
response, Harry blinked and looked around at everyone.

“Um...sure...yeah,” he stuttered.

“Looks like Harry took a...fall,” George said.

“Still not funny,” Fred followed up.

“Point proven,” Cedric said, throwing a disappointed look at Marietta, Fred, and George.
“We're not going to win if we spend the whole time sniping at each other. At the end of the
day, the only people who are going to be able to help you is everyone in this room. So whatever
happens here, I think we should put all of that behind us when we step in for one of the
tasks.”

“Good speech, Ced, but do you have anything else besides some motivational sayings?” Roger
leaned back in his chair, distinctly unimpressed.

“I actually do,” Cedric answered. “We need to find out what the First Task is. Any advantage is
going to be invaluable. We only have a week until the First Task and we don't know a single
thing about it. Does anyone know anything about it?”

When no one answered, Cedric nodded. “I thought as much. That should be our first goal: find
anything on the First Task.”

They exchanged some more theories on what exactly the First Task was going to be, but it was
plainly evident that no one had an inkling of what it actually was. Hermione tuned most of it out,
instead focusing on possible leads on how to find any information on the task. Cedric was right in
this respect; if they didn't know anything about the First Task, they would likely lose.

The meeting adjourned quickly after that and the group prepared to disband. Hermione performed a
nonverbal spell under the table and slowly packed her things, feigning normalcy. When Fred stood
up, everyone heard the loud tear of fabric ripping as the bottoms of his pants remained stuck on
the chair. To his credit, the Gryffindor didn't even blush and took it in stride.

*Tit for tat.*

“I think you've left your pants, Fred,” George commented.

“I knew I shouldn't have eaten all those Sticky Samplers!”

There would be retribution, no doubt, but Hermione couldn't let them go unchecked. A little
bit of humility was good for everyone.

*Especially for Fred and George.*

Unfortunately, their target would be Harry and not her. Already, she could see the gears turning
in their head as the twins always wanted the last word. Harry barely laughed and didn't say a
word. Sparing Fred a cursory glance, he rushed off to the exit. Annoyed that he did not even show
the slightest bit of gratitude for the revenge she extracted, Hermione quickly followed him.

She made sure to keep some distance away from him at first, not wanting others to cotton on to
the fact that they were more than classmates. Ducking her head and pretending to read and walk,
Hermione made sure to keep him one turn ahead and ensured that no one was tailing her as well. When
the coast was clear, she darted forward to catch up with Harry.

“You're welcome,” she said.

“Wasn't asking for your help.”

*Back to enemies, then.*

“You've been ignoring me,” Hermione stated, walking with him as they descended a set of
stairs.

“I've been busy,” Harry countered.

“Taking on some extra work?”

She knew that he had been up to *something* in his spare time. A secretive glance at his
schedule during breakfast on a previous morning revealed an additional class after dinner time.
There was no designation of what type of class it would be, so she had followed him one night and
found him to be the only participant of said class. Was he receiving private lessons with Trow?

Harry shot her a look full of warning. “Is there something you want?”

“This board room project was your idea and you haven't been responding to me. Luna and I
have made some promising breakthroughs, so it would be nice to at least get some confirmation that
we should continue on.”

“Yeah, keep doing it. We'll talk more after the First Task.” Harry attempted to walk away
and end the conversation, but she reached out and grabbed his wrist.

Hermione felt him flinch and guilt washed over her for surprising him. Since they had formed
their quasi-friendship, she had learned that he did not like being touched unexpectedly. Hermione
suspected it had something to do with the abuse from his uncle. Putting on a cool face, she probed,
“Are you going to be able to do this? You don't seem very focused.”

Harry looked at her, but he wasn't really seeing her. She searched his eyes, but his mind
was far away, even with their close proximity. Standing so close to him reminded her of how short
he was. He was just an inch or two taller than her and they had reached the age where some of the
boys were beginning to fill their frame. It was strange that such a great wizard was so diminutive
but perhaps her notions of what a *great wizard* should be were all wrong.

“I'll be ready,” he responded.

He had always come through before, but Hermione had a sinking feeling that there was something
amiss with this Slytherin.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Three days passed without any progress on finding out what the First Task would be. Hermione,
for her part, paid attention to conversations between professors, but she found nothing abnormal.
They would obviously be the last people to divulge the details of the First Task, but any little
clue could be pivotal.

As she marched the winding staircase to Theory, Hermione found herself annoyed that none of the
other Hogwarts champions had found anything else either. She tried approaching the First Task like
another session of Battle class, but she liked having the information in front of her. It was
preferable to have a main plan and then other subsidiaries from it when the inevitable chaos of
battle occurred.

*How am I supposed to put together a plan when I don't know anything?*

The thought had crossed her mind a few days prior, so she decided to take a different tack. If
no one could find anything on the First Task, then she would at least start learning what she could
from her opponents. Fleur Delacour and Viktor Krum were the obvious leaders of their respective
schools. Reading up on Veelas, Hermione found that they had some powerful magic. Yet, Fleur would
only have a fraction of those powers as she was only a quarter-Veela.

Unsurprisingly, there were long sections detailing Veelas and their affinity with sex magic.
Hermione only skimmed through these sections as she wouldn't personally have to deal with them.
Other abilities included their already infamous ability to attract men as well as natural flight.
Only time would tell whether Fleur could perform the latter.

Disappointingly, most articles about Viktor Krum only covered his Quidditch exploits. There was
very little she could glean except for the fact that Krum was a fantastic flyer. If there was an
opportunity for him to exploit that skill, he would no doubt take it, but seeing as how she was a
terrible flyer, Hermione found no reason to read any more about him. She would certainly *not*
try to out-fly Krum.

She was the first to arrive to the classroom besides Flamel. The only furniture in the room were
five chairs and a device in the corner. It resembled a windmill with a crystal ball at the end of
the swinging arm. It moved in a methodical circular manner, the room lighting up whenever the sun
struck the crystal ball.

“Good morning, Hermione,” Flamel said.

“Professor,” she responded.

There were five minutes before class was supposed to start, and the other three had made a habit
of arriving right on time and never earlier. She sat in a slightly uncomfortable silence, the wind
whistling through the tower. Flamel looked at her and gestured towards the device.

“Care to take a guess?” he asked.

Everything with Flamel seemed to be a test, so she sat up and started analyzing the object.
There was nothing particularly special about it. The stand and the arm looked to be made of gold,
while the orb was crystal. It could have several magical properties, but the most pertinent
question to ask was: what was the purpose of the circular motion?

Her first thought was that it generated energy and the subsequent energy could be focused onto
the crystal ball. Luna had discovered that crystal was important for creating projections and
images, so perhaps the device was some sort of projector. That was one theory, at least. Hermione
gave herself one more minute to respond.

*If it's not a projector, then perhaps it is used as a shield. Any spell could be blocked
when it reaches the approximate radius and focuses on the crystal.* Hermione realized she was
grasping at straws without any clues, much like her search for information on the First Task.

“It could be a projector of sorts. Crystals have been known for their usefulness in creating
holograms,” she answered.

Flamel nodded, stroking his extensive mane. “Interesting.”

And that was all he said.

The door opened and the other three shuffled in. Harry took his customary seat next to her and
she could detect the slump in his shoulders out of the corner of her eye. *Still down*, she
thought. All eyes were on Flamel as he balanced himself on just the two legs of his chair. He
gestured around them and asked, “Can anyone tell me what you have learned in this class so
far?”

*You have an affinity for chairs*.

“We have limits to our magic,” Susan answered.

“Yes you do,” Flamel confirmed. “Do not let that scare you. Knowing your limits is important.
Your body is specially attuned to your magic. I assume you have all learned about the
Unforgivables?”

Four nods confirmed that fact.

“So can anyone tell me why everyone wouldn't just use the Killing Curse in a duel to the
death? It is unblockable and guarantees an instant death. Why wouldn't you just use that?”

“Well...it's an Unforgivable,” Terry stated, “It's punishable by death.”

“Surely, someone looking to kill another wizard would not care. After all, it is only punishable
if he is caught. There are other reasons, Terry. Think again.”

“Professor Moody described it as an *abomination*,” Susan said.

“But *why*?”

It was Harry who provided the first acceptable answer. “It directly attacks magic, doesn't
it?”

“And why is that?” Flamel continued to prod.

“Well, that's how it has to kill people,” Harry said slowly, “the spell has to attack the
person's magic instead of the body. How else could it kill so instantly?”

*Even when he's down, Harry still gets the right answers*. She hated when someone else
answered correctly first.

“The Killing Curse *seeks* to destroy magic. It is unnatural for magic to be removed from
this Earth. It upsets the balance and do not underestimate the need for the world to balance. Point
and counterpoint, yin and yang, whatever you think it may be; magic has a need for balance.”

“But why?” Hermione parroted Flamel's earlier question. “It doesn't make sense that
there's an innate need for balance. What requires magic to be balanced?”

“It is the way of the world. There are many names for the study of it but consider everything
around you. Magic is not an ethereal force that is pulled out of nothingness to create spells. It
exists in a constant state that can be added and subtracted. Think of a rock displacing water. The
water has to go somewhere, does it not? Magic operates in much the same manner. When you levitate a
chair, can you do it infinitely?”

Of course, they couldn't.

“The magic has to go somewhere. The Killing Curse is effective because it destroys the magic
within the host. *Every* being has the smallest ounce of magic, whether they know it or not.
We wizards and witches just happen to have more than most.”

“So Muggles can do magic?” Terry asked.

“Muggles have an infinitesimal amount of magic. Not enough for them to ever conjure a spell even
under the most dire of circumstances. Yet, there is enough so that if you wished to cast the
Killing Curse, it would end their life. The same is true of wizards and witches except that our
bodies react more violently to even the slightest losses of magic. You can feel it when you
overexert yourself, can't you?”

Four nods answered his question.

“So how does the Killing Curse work? We have established that magic needs to be balanced. We
have established that the Killing Curse seeks to destroy the magic within a host. How does the
spell work?”

*Think.*

If magic always had to be balanced and the Killing Curse aimed to destroy magic, then it would
stand to reason that either magic had to be created during the spell or some form of magic. Flamel
did not negate the supposition that two equal losses of magic could also keep it *balanced.*
Arithmancy used to be a course in Hogwarts before the transformation. Hermione wondered if it dealt
with the numerology of keeping magic even.

*Destroy magic and create magic. Destroy magic and destroy magic.*

The latter would be the more malevolent act. Moody described the curse as *unnatural* and
an *abomination.* If the Killing Curse resulted in the destruction of magic, then magic also
had to be destroyed from the caster.

“Does it take magic from the caster? Destroys it at the source in order to destroy the magic
within the target?” Hermione proposed.

Flame balanced himself on one leg of the chair now, an increasingly precarious position that
defied gravity. He was staring at the spinning contraption in the corner of the room and Hermione
continued to wonder whether or not the object had any relevance to this lesson.

“On the right track. But wizards don't lose magic when they perform the Killing Curse, do they?
There have been plenty of dark wizards and witches over time that have used the curse and there
have been no signs of them losing power after they kill someone. So, again, how does it work?”

*How am I supposed to know how it works if I can't ever cast it?*

Susan and Terry were pretending to think of a solution, but Hermione knew when others were
stalling for an answer. They had no idea. Hemming and hawing, shifting around in their seats, the
Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were no closer than Hermione to discovering how the Killing Curse
worked.

“Anyone?”

Flamel leaned back on his chair as he asked the question. He seemed to have a rather lazy
approach to asking these questions as if the Killing Curse weren't particularly important.
Hermione hated classes like Flamel's; they were full of hypotheticals and theories with little
references. Was she supposed to take Flamel's word on everything he said? How could she
possibly verify it?

“Maybe the Killing Curse temporarily takes away some of the magical ability of the caster?”
Hermione took another stab. “Maybe it has a lingering effect on how powerful the caster's
spells are? The destruction of the magic in the target is counterbalanced by a like displacement in
the caster for an extended period of time.”

Flamel shook his head, his pointed beard swaying back and forth. “You're thinking too much
of the quantitative effects of balancing magic. It is not an equation, Hermione. When I speak of
balancing, I do not mean that magic is assigned a number and the like number has to be added or
subtracted to balance. It is much more complex than that.”

“Then how are we supposed to know? You laid out the parameters that magic has to be balanced and
the Killing Curse aims to destroy magic. How is there any other possibility besides the fact that
magic has to be removed from the caster?” Hermione argued.

“It does something else to the caster,” Harry interjected.

The three other legs of Flamel's chair slammed on the ground and he showed great dexterity
by coming to his feet at the same time. Waving one hand towards the door, Flamel cast an unknown
spell. Twisting in her seat, Hermione saw a thin layer of gray mold wrap around the doorframe.

*Some variant of the Imperturbable Charm.*

“Pay close attention to what I am about to say,” Flamel instructed.

Pointing to the open windows of the tower, Flamel cast another spell that brought about the same
gray mold. It enclosed the window, shutting out any light. He then lifted his hand with his palm
facing upwards and gently blew into it. A fireball the size of a Quaffle appeared within his cupped
palm, illuminating the room.

*All wandless magic,* Hermione marveled.

The fire in his hand was unnatural, never flickering. It cast a long shadow and slightly
obscured Flamel. Terry shuffled in his seat while Susan gripped the edge of hers. Darkness was not
something any of them were accustomed to. The bright lights and numerous candles of Hogwarts rarely
left them sitting in the darkness. Harry, however, sat comfortably in his seat, almost embracing
the blackness.

*He can do that too.*

But Harry's version of the glowing light spell drew from other lights within his vicinity.
Hermione vividly remembered how the whole cave seemed darker when Harry wandlessly performed a
*Lumos*. Flamel conjured the fireball out of his own magic, a much greater feat. In a sense,
it was a perfect example of balancing. It gave even more validation that some sort of magic had to
be deducted from the caster of the Killing Curse.

“Harry is right in that it does something else to the caster. Hermione, as always, was logically
right in saying that it has to cost the caster something to perform the Killing Curse. Where she
erred was the oversimplified thought that the Killing Curse could be reduced to an equation,”
Flamel said.

Never in her life had Hermione ever been referred to as overly simple.

“Then what does it do?” Hermione said with a bit of bite in her voice.

“One,” Flamel said.

Flamel brought his right pointer finger close to the fireball floating in his left hand. A black
spark jumped from his finger into the fireball. Though the light was bright, Hermione found no
trouble in keeping her eyes on it. She could see black tendrils swirling within the orange light,
little fingers that would rise and fall depending on the flames.

“Two.”

Another spark jumped from his finger. More black tendrils this time, swirling in and out of
view. It didn't yet consume the light, but the difference was noticeable. *Dark
magic.*

“Three.”

Jet black magic poured out from Flamel's fingertip as it consumed the ball of light. There
was still a glow, but it was no longer bright and illuminating. Instead, it was a shadow that
covered the room. The barest flicker of light flashed across the room and caught the steel of
Harry's glasses. Sparing a glance, she looked at his green eyes.

They were mesmerized by the darkness.

* * * * * * * * * *

Tracey twirled a strand of her around her finger and released it, watching her hair spring from
the tight coil. She sat in the Slytherin Common Room, waiting for Draco to come down from his
dormitory. The rest of the Fourth Year Slytherins were scattered on the plush armchairs and deep
carpets. Most were lounging around and playing idle games. Some were finishing homework and
reviewing notes. Tracey was doing neither.

Madame Pomfrey had stressed the importance of creating an advanced potion for their end of year
review. Scouring through her textbooks, Tracey found that a majority of the more advanced potions
required various items that weren't actually available in Slughorn's stores. *How am I
supposed to create potions without ingredients?*

She enjoyed the class, despite the challenges Pomfrey bestowed upon them. It was certainly more
fulfilling than Battle or Strategy class. The more time she spent in those classes, the more she
resented the obsessive competition it fostered. She still followed every order Harry gave her, but
with each order he gave, Tracey felt more removed from him. *Why couldn't things stay the
same?*

*He was always going to leave you behind*. She tried to shake the voice out of her head,
but Tracey couldn't deny the truth of it. She wrapped another stray curl around her finger,
pulling at it a little harder. Blaise plopped down beside her, occupying the rest of the long
armchair. He was grinning, but the smile rarely reached his eyes these days.

“Galleon for your thoughts?” Blaise asked.

“They're not nearly that expensive,” Tracey said.

The person that occupied her thoughts descended the staircase, his chin tucked into his chest.
Tracey caught his green eyes as he turned his head slightly to address the rest of his classmates.
Harry nodded at them, not speaking as he shuffled by.

“Commander,” everyone murmured.

After Harry left, Pansy commented on his recent lack of communication. “What do you think is
wrong with him?”

“He has a lot to deal with. Battle class. The First Task. All of the other tournament business.
It's enough to make anyone crack.” Tracey quickly rushed to his defense.

“He asks a lot of us. Maybe he should lay off for a while,” Nott said.

“I *have* enjoyed not having the extra practices,” Pansy added.

*And we're suffering because of it.* Two losses in a row in their recent classes was
proof enough for Tracey. Harry was not his usual sharp self, missing obvious moves from Granger and
Bones in their respective matches. Draco and Blaise could technically supercede his orders, but
neither had corrected him when it was obvious he was making a mistake. Neither of them seemed to
want to take charge.

“We will not lose.” Blase mocked Harry's serious delivery, drawing a few chuckles from other
Slytherins.

“I will obey,” Pansy added.

They would often take to making a parody of Harry behind his back. For a while, no one did it
out of fear of retribution from Harry. Blaise started it first, lightly joking about Harry's
seriousness and poking fun of their relentless practice schedule. Tracey said nothing, not wanting
to be the one who spoiled the fun. Inside, she burned with embarrassment for Harry.

“Can't believe that Mudblood beat us,” Pansy said. “Even I knew it was pointless trying to
go uphill against them. What was Potter thinking?”

“Potter wasn't thinking. He doesn't think straight against the Mudblood,” Blaise
said.

*Stop it,* Tracey thought. *You're getting too close.* She tried to catch his eye,
but he ignored her. *If they knew them, any remaining respect would be gone.* Granger might
not have been her favorite person, but she was Harry's friend. Tracey would not speak up
against the rest of her class, but she would not abandon Harry just yet.

“She's such a fucking Mudblood, too. Can you believe how big her head has gotten ever since
she got picked for the tournament? A Mudblood of all people!” Pansy said.

The moniker was widely used in private company. Granger, in particular, often drew the word
*Mudblood* from the Slytherins. Tracey refrained from using it, but she was not above giving a
chuckle if someone used it in a particularly amusement context. Now, though, it seemed too much.
She hated feeling this way. Every emotion and reason compelled her to hate Granger, but right now,
she pitied the Gryffindor.

“I'll say this,” Blaise started, “we probably need to keep a better eye on what's going
in Battle class. I don't know if we can trust Harry to be reliable the whole time.”

Before anyone could interject, another voice cut in.

“Potter's still the Commander.” Draco stood at the base of the stairs, an imperceptible look
on his face.

“Since when have you been such as suck-up, Draco?” Pansy asked.

“As long as we keep on winning, Potter's still the Commander.”

“*As long as we keep on winning,”* Blaise repeated.

Draco still had a blank expression as the words hung heavily in the air between them. It was no
secret that Blaise resented Draco for having a secondary leadership position even though Blaise was
the one on the Leadership track. The contempt on his face was more expressive than Draco's
simmer and it made Tracey uncomfortable. Not a few weeks ago, they were a House united under
Harry's green lightning bolt. Now, they are acting like vipers.

Tracey stood up. “Draco, let's go.”

“Late night date?” Blaise teased.

“Homework. Not that would you know what that is,” Tracey said, shoving his shoulder.

Draco and Tracey had to be quiet as they approached the Hospital Wing. It was already after
hours and what they were planning to do broke several rules. Still, Draco agreed that in order for
them to get ahead in Medical, they would need to get access to ingredients that others did not
have. Pomfrey kept her own personal store and Tracey had been a resident in the Hospital Wing
enough to know that the mediwitch would leave the ward unattended if there were no patients. Unless
something drastic happened in the four hours since dinner, it was unlikely there was anyone within
the Hospital Wing.

*Carefully now.* Tracey poked her head around the corner, hidden underneath the
Disillusionment Charm. They were casting it in spurts when they were out in the open, trying to
conserve their magical energy whenever they were actually hidden. Creeping along the wall, Tracey
took the lead as she pushed open the door of the Hospital Wing. Listening closely, she heard
nothing. There was only silence. The moon bounced off the large windows at the far end of the ward,
casting an eerie blue light along the ground and walls. The torches were damp and unlit. She could
scarce see three feet in front of her.

She felt Draco's hand on her back, using her as a guide as they crept quietly along the
outer wall of the room. They had to be careful even if it seemed like the room was empty. Pomfrey
spent many a night in the back office and neither Draco nor Tracey could tell if she was present.
Any spells would potentially trigger a response. Reaching the back office, Tracey found no one
present.

“I think we're okay,” she said.

Draco disengaged the Disillusionment charm and looked around to make sure they were truly alone.
“Who knows what spells and wards Pomfrey has in here. Stay alert and get ready to disillusion if
you hear anything.”

Acknowledging his orders, Tracey walked to the door of Pomfrey's personal store room. A
simple *Alohomora* was surprisingly effective after Draco checked for any other magic. Inside
was a cupboard almost twenty feet deep. Jars of various sizes lined both walls, no doubt providing
ingredients not readily available in Slughorns' dungeons. Draco agreed to keep an eye out by
standing near the door of the cupboard while Tracey explored the items within.

She was looking for a few particular ingredients. Rootweed to stabilize volatility. Blackened
snail shells for their reusability. Fine elephant bone powder for their versatility. All of these
ingredients were expensive and rare. If Pomfrey had those, it would give Tracey a considerable
advantage and let her get ahead of the rest of the class. She held her wand in front of her, the
*Lumos* casting a bright glow as she read the various labels. A few minutes passed with no
luck and she paused to look back at Draco.

He was standing against the door, the moonlight hitting him in the face as his eyes scanned the
room. There was no doubt he had been a changed person since the start of the school year. Rumors
over the summer had reached her even in Spain. The Malfoys were being investigated for money
laundering and not paying the proper taxes to the goblins. Further inquiries led to a raid of the
Malfoy manor and the discovery of a host of dark items that led to Lucius Malfoy's
imprisonment.

With the elder Malfoy in jail, the family name dropped considerably. Narcissa, Draco's
mother, was a Black and they were held in less esteem by the rest of the Purebloods since Sirius
Black's defection and subsequent mass murder of Muggles. Even though the Purebloods held no
love for the Muggles, appearances were important. With the Malfoy name being dragged through the
mud with trial after trial, Draco lost a lot of his respect and prestige among his classmates. With
Crabbe no longer returning, Draco lost his other bodyguard. He was isolated from the rest of his
peers in just one summer.

“Thank you for coming with me,” Tracey said suddenly.

“Don't thank me too much. Go on about it quickly. We can't dawdle too long in here. I
still need to look for things too,” Draco said.

“I'm serious. You've changed. I couldn't imagine you helping me like this last
year.”

“Situations change. You don't survive by just doing the same thing over and over. In case
you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly held in the highest regard anymore.”

“I'm sorry about that. Your father…”

“My father was an ignorant and weak man. My mother was a pushover who let him do whatever he
wanted. Good riddance,” Draco said.

Tracey quieted, recognizing the venom in his voice. She had thought the same of her own parents
from time to time.

“I apologize,” Draco said. “There just comes a time when you realize you have to do things
yourself instead of relying on everyone else. It just took me a while to understand that. Longer
than it should have.”

He spoke without looking at her, his mind somewhere else. His blond hair was combed back and
parted to one side. Gray eyes matched gray light of the moon. Hey may have fallen in stature, but
he still held himself upright and proud like any Malfoy would. If his father was sent to Azkaban on
an extended basis, he would become the heir and owner to the Malfoy fortune and name.

“My father isn't the easiest person either.” Tracey wrapped a finger around a strand of
hair.

“I guess that's one thing we have in common then,” Draco said.

Tracey cut off their conversation and continued looking for the necessary potions. Slug essence
was used for cuts and lacerations but unneeded for the potion she had in mind. Ground granite was
common enough to find. An incredibly rare vial of tears from a phoenix would be noticed if she
pilfered it. *Rootweed. Not enough to be noticed but suitable for my potion,* Tracey thought
as she picked up a box.

A pair of hands grabbed her shoulders and pushed Tracey firmly into a small alcove between
cupboards. The chilling cold of the Disillusionment Charm slid over her body from top to bottom and
Draco grabbed her wand to douse the *Lumos.*

“Shhh,” he whispered into her ear.

His breath was cold. *Or is the air cold?* They were so close that she couldn't tell.
Straining her ears, Tracey heard footsteps outside. The deep closet was dark as Draco had mindfully
closed the door behind him. *Carefully now.*

Light flooded the long closet as Madame Pomfrey opened the door. They couldn't move. The
slightest breath or flinch would create a ripple. Pomfrey was in her night clothes, a fluffy, white
robe pulled tightly over her body. She bent down and picked up a jar containing an unknown
substance. Tracey did not dare to breath.

Draco was holding onto her shoulders for support. His fingers dug into her skin, but he was
surprisingly calm. His cold breath skimmed her ears. His cold hands almost made her shiver. A flush
crept along her skin and Tracey was thankful for the Disillusionment Charm. She didn't think
she could hold her breath for much longer. Letting out a slow exhale, Tracey thought her breathing
might as well have been a gust of wind for how loud it sounded.

Pomfrey finally left, closing the door and dousing them in darkness again. Tracey waited until
she heard the other set of doors close before she finally exhaled loudly, releasing the tension
that had built in the pit of her stomach. Draco let her go and blood rushed to her shoulders,
warming them again. Shaking, she turned around and carefully illuminated the closet again.
Draco's narrow face was not a few feet from her, his silver eyes still darting around.

“Let's hurry before there's any more surprises,” he said.

The pair separated as she searched the shelves. Her eyes tracked up and down, making quick work
of the ingredients she did not want. Further in Tracey went, noting Pomfrey's extensive store.
At the back, the closet went even deeper, extending in an L-shape. Until now, there were various
glasses, jars, and boxes. Within the indented part of the closet, there were just ceramic vases.
Tracey stopped, lifting her wand high so the light covered more ground. Six shelves on both sides
were covered with these tan ceramic vases. Doing some mental math, Tracey estimated there were
fifty vases. Curious, she lifted the lid and peered inside one of the vases.

“Draco,” she called out.

There was no response as Tracey's heart raced, the implications too obvious. *Could it be
so simple?* It made no sense to store so many vases of this material. Identifying it was easy
enough. She had read of the substance in one of the first chapters of her book, *Common Potions
for the Common Witch.*

“Draco!” Tracey said louder, craning around the corner to find Draco stuffing his own
ingredients into his pocket. “You have to come here.”

The blond hurried down once he was finished and asked, “What is it?”

Wrestling one of the lower vases to the ground, Tracey lifted the lid and cast her light right
over it. Inside was a light blue liquid. It was of a similar consistency to mud but more cohesive.
Even in the dim light, the glow of the substance was substantial.

“Burn salve,” Draco said. “Are they in all these pots?”

They lifted the lids off a couple of the vases and found the bright blue burn salve in all of
them. *Ten, twenty, thirty, fourty, fifty, sixty, sixty-seven.* *Sixty-seven pots of burn
salve.*

Draco came to the same realization not a few moments later.

*We have to tell Harry.*

* * * * * * * * * * *

“Dragons,” Harry announced.

They were in the tower again, crammed around a round table. Hermione dropped her quill as Harry
revealed the reason for their meeting. It was just two days before the First Task and Cedric had
desperately rounded everyone up for an emergency session. Once inside, the other twelve champions
watched Harry stand up and deliver the news.

*Dragons. Monolithic creatures. Endangered species. There were very few left in the world.
Less than fifty to be exact. Too dangerous to be commonly found around wizards and witches. They
can also…*

“Fire-breathing dragons?” Fred said.

“You can't be serious,” George said at the same time.

Harry nodded. “My source is very good. I don't know many and I don't know what kind, but
we're definitely going to face dragons.”

Hermione sat back in her chair, contemplating the madness of whoever would unleash dragons upon
school children. She could have understood other various tasks or challenges but no one could
control dragons. If Harry was right and they were supposed to face one, there was no one that could
tell the dragon to *stop.* They were unpredictable beasts.

“Who is your source if you don't mind me asking?” Roger was skeptical.

“I'm not going to say, but I'm one hundred percent sure it is going to be dragons.”

“I believe him.” Cedric backed Harry, standing up as well. “And I think we need to start
creating a plan.”

“These are *dragons*,” Lee Jordan emphasized, his dreadlocks bouncing. “Their scales are so
hard that our spells hardly do anything against them. Their sheer size is enough to crush our bones
into finely grained powder. Their senses of smell and taste have few rivals so forget about hiding
from them. Fire hot enough to melt steel into a pool of liquid. Leathery wings that blow down trees
when they take flight. Who the fuck do they think we are?”

*They have weak spots. Their eyes if you have a good shot at them. If they extend their neck,
the scales are sparse and the skin can be broken. Very few weaknesses but they are there,*
Hermione thought.

They squabbled for the better part of three hours, missing dinner and no doubt eliciting some
sort of curiousness from the rest of the school. It was no coincidence when the whole of
Hogwart's Champions went missing. Hermione wondered who Harry's source was. She knew when
he was confident in his answers, and Harry was positive that it was dragons.

Their eventual plan was ill conceived and not agreed upon. They were to split up into teams. “At
least the dragon will have to fight for their meal,” George had said. Three teams of three and one
team of four. Two teams would focus on distraction and defense; a variety of spells that ranged
from obscuring the dragon's vision to simply making loud noises. The other two teams would
focus on either taking the dragon down or hurting it enough to accomplish whatever goal they
needed.

Then came the matter of whose team everyone was on. Cedric did his best to split them up evenly,
but it eventually broke almost evenly into Houses. Fred, George, Lee Jordan, and Angelina were on
one team. Cho, Marietta, and Roger on another. Stephen Stebbins, Heather Locklear, and Cedric made
up the Hufflepuffs. That left Harry, Hermione, and Marcus Belby, the fifth year Ravenclaw.

*The runt of the litter. Perhaps they think the dragon will try and eat the smallest prey
first. Oh well, I like being first anyway.*

Hermione slept poorly that night, falling asleep as she read *The Dangers of Occlumency.*
Another set of dreams of Hogwarts falling apart left her tired as the sun rose over the Gryffindor
tower. The book was still open across her chest and her clothes were damp with sweat. She had not
even bothered to change out of them.

Harry was nowhere to be found the next day as Hermione wanted more information on who is source
was. Breakfast eluded her as did lunch. Fred and George were surprisingly chipper considering there
was a strong chance they could be served up charred and well-done after facing the dragon. She
stared down at her lunch, chicken and potatoes, and the urge to vomit almost overtook her. Looking
up, Hermione caught Cedric's eye and the older Hufflepuff smiled at her in an attempt to ease
her fears she supposed. *This could be my last lunch.*

On the eve of the First Task, she picked up another book but found she could not read *What
are Dreams?* Dragons plagued her mind and another wave of nausea overwhelmed her. *Maybe I can
fake a pregnancy. Surely, they wouldn't judge me too harshly if I backed out because of
that?* There was still the opportunity to quit the tournament. Ludo Bagman had made sure they
understood that rule. But what would the other Gryffindors say if she were the first of the
Hogwarts Champions to quit? *Gryffindor, House of the Cowards.*

She slept quietly the night before the First Task.

The morning was filled with fanfare and much support from all of Hogwarts. For once, they were
united as everyone wore a pin that bore the insignia of every House. Some wore additional pins that
professed their support of varying persons and Houses. *Let's go Cedric! Fly, you Ravenclaws!
Give me Gryffindors any time! Ravenclaw! Hufflepuff! Gryffindor!*

There were no pins for Slytherin or Harry.

After breakfast, the champions were ushered into a large tent to get changed and prepared. It
was there that Ludo Bagman finally announced the goal: to steal an egg. His eyes were glittering
and he had a mischievous smile as he danced around the question of what they would be fighting but
by now, everyone had to know it was a dragon. Bagman fooled nobody.

They were allowed to wear trousers and a plain shirt. First, they draped a protective vest made
out of thick leather. It fit like a sweater, coming down to just above Hermione's wrist. Socks
that felt like rubber and all-purpose trainers were required for all of them. An H for Hogwarts was
stitched onto the vest as well as their corresponding House emblem. Finally, a thick robe was
draped around her. A string curled itself around the holes in the front, fastening it against her
chest. There was a slight cape billowing behind her as *Granger* was sowed along the upper
back. Hers was black with accents of burgundy while Harry's robe held hints of green. The
others also had various designs of their House colors.

Harry donned a pair of fingerless gloves. When Hermione pointed looked at them, he said,
“Dragonhide gloves. Tracey got them for me. It's been said that they can handle dragon
fire.”

“We'll find out soon enough,” Hermione said.

Hogwarts would go last as they were the host school. Durmstrang exited the tent to the racuous
cheer of the crowd beyond. There must have been some sort of muffling charm on the tent as they
only heard a dull, constant buzz whenever the tent flap was closed. The thirteen Hogwarts Champions
sat quietly. Some were whispering spells to themselves. Others were burying their heads in their
hands. Hermione bounced her knee, tapping the point of her wand against her thigh. *Eyes and
neck. Eyes and neck. Eyes and neck.*

The bile rose from her throat as she leaned over and threw up. Her hair was luckily held back in
a tight bun. Wiping the bits of vomit with the sleeve of her robe, Hermione kept her head down. No
doubt everyone else witnessed her stomach finally winning over her mind. Someone cast an
*Evanesco* to clean up her mess.

“Thank you,” she said, anticipating it was Harry.

“Are you going to be okay?” It was not Harry.

Looking up, Hermione found Cedric standing over. She could see Marietta laughing behind him and
she was glad that someone could find laughter as they were led to their slaughter. Harry, seated
across from her, was glaring at Marietta or Roger or all of them.

“Needed to do that,” Hermione said. “Best to get it out of the way.”

Cedric placed what he must have thought was a comforting hand on her shoulder. She tried not to
flinch.

“Do you remember the plan?” Cedric asked.

*As if I ever forget.*

“I'll do my part.”

As Beauxbatons left, Hermione pushed back the urge to regurgitate again. *Eyes and neck. Eyes
and neck. Eyes and neck,* she kept reminding herself. Fred and George were quite good at
creating a spectacle. If they could distract the dragon for just long enough, then they would stand
a chance. A chance to live.

There was a slight alteration to the plan as Cedric changed his group's objective to
obtaining the golden egg. *The dragon will be guarding the egg. If we could lead the dragon away
from it. If we could just keep the dragon's head turned long enough…*

“HOGWARTS!” Ludo Bagman's booming voice called them out.

*Is it already time?* Hermione felt like she had just entered the tent. In reality, almost
three hours had passed since then. They lined up single file to exit the tent. Cedric was in the
front, still gently reassuring those around him. Roger was next followed by Fred, George, and Lee.
Stephen and Heather broke the Gryffindor block so they could regroup with Cedric quickly. Angelina,
Marietta, and Cho all stuck together. Marcus Belby, quivering and shaking, came next. Finally,
Hermione and Harry were at the end of the line.

Standing behind Marcus, Hermione could hardly see in front of her as the Ravenclaw's large
body blocked her vision. She could feel her heart thumping against her chest, almost pounding
against the thick robe draped around her. Vomit came out of her mouth one more time as she leaned
over, taking care not to get it on anyone's shoes.

“I think dragons spit out fire, Hermione,” Fred said from the front.

*Eyes and neck.*

Neither Durmstrang nor Beauxbatons had been seen since they left. *Perhaps they were all
eaten. Surely, they wouldn't let this continue if they were. If they can make it out
alive…*

The line started moving, a hesitant shuffle of feet. The crowd grew louder as the tent flap
opened, lifting the muffling spell. Hermione forced her feet to move as her mind quickly reviewed
everything she could. *Three teams of three and one team of four. Fred and George will distract.
Cedric's team will go for the egg. Eyes and neck. Other two teams will try to incapacitate or
distract. Marcus is on our team. Lead it away from the neck. Never take your eyes off the dragon.
Eyes and neck. Watch out for fire. The Protego is weak against fire as it is a natural element
coming from a dragon. What else? Eyes and neck. What else?*

Time had run out.

Harry's soft voice brought her out of her panicked thoughts. “Whatever happens, stay with
me.”

The sun blinded her temporarily. She shielded her eyes, but the blindness was only temporary as
her eyes adjusted and the sun hid behind a cloud. They were being funneled down a path with walls
of stone on either side. In the distance, raised high above them were rafters filled with people.
They were cheering. *Or screaming.* It was hard to tell. It was almost as if they were in a
daze as no one rushed to their spots.

The stone path finally expanded into a wide field of jagged rocks. It closely resembled the
battle against Harry during the beginning of Third Year. She almost commented that to him when a
ear-splitting roar interjected. The guttural noise must have brought her to senses. Suddenly, she
could smell the sulfur and burnt stone in the air. It was pugnant, watering her eyes instantly.
Hermione could taste the fire in the air on her tongue. *If anyone doubted Harry's source,
they were…*

Hermione couldn't finish her thought.

“Oh,” Harry said behind her, no doubt seeing the challenge ahead of them.

*Dragons.*

Three to be exact.

* * * * * * * * * * *

**A/N: Projected update time: 43 days**
 Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7
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36. The First Task
------------------



“Run.”

Harry was tired. Endless hours of Trow and Lupin ramming history down his throat had the
unexpected effect of sleepless nights of introspection.

Yet, as he looked up and saw three snarling dragons, Harry was suddenly reminded that there was
still a present and he was not yet chained to the past.

Grabbing a fistful of Hermione's robes, Harry darted right. Another ear-splitting roar shook
the ground. They stumbled behind a large boulder as Harry took six seconds to collect himself.
Hermione crumpled to her knees, dry heaving. Harry licked his lips, the taste of sulfur already
present.

“You need to pull it together, Hermione,” Harry said in a surprisingly calm voice.

She wiped her nose and Harry gave her a few more seconds to settle herself. It was so loud. The
roar of the crowd was distant, but every movement from the dragons stirred the air. Each step they
took rumbled along the ground. The hiss of their breath was as strong as a gust of wind. Harry
heard the rest of the champions finally taking action.

“Where's Marcus?” Hermione asked.

“I lost him,” Harry said.

“We're supposed to be with Marcus.”

“That doesn't matter now,” Harry said irritably.

Whatever plans they had drawn up were pointless. Not planning for an occurrence with three
dragons was a massive oversight, but Harry hadn't been involved with the planning process. He
cursed himself for being so distracted. Cedric had listened to him quite easily when he told them
of the pots of burn salve in Pomfrey's stores. Harry could have also bent his ear if he had
been more interested in the planning procedure. Then again, Harry wouldn't have bet that they
would face three dragons in the first place.

“We're going to move,” Harry announced.

“Why?!” Hermione asked incredulously.

Harry snapped and slapped her lightly across the face. She held her cheek in shock, looking at
him with tears in her eyes and a blush spreading across her face. He had to do something to snap
her out of it. One of her weaknesses was overthinking situations. She might have been a Gryffindor,
but the Ravenclaw in her would kill her if she kept trying to think through the situation. The time
for action was *now.*

“Are you ready to move?”

Harry could see the retort and defiance rising out of her, but there was no room for that right
now. She quelled it as the dragon roared again. This time, voices calling out spells matched the
dragon's roar. There was little time left for preparation. Harry could see the transformation
in her brown eyes as the courage that had brought her to Gryffindor finally took over. *A true
Gryffindor.*

“We should go for the egg. End it quickly,” she said.

That might have been the job for Cedric's team, but there were no teams right now. There
were three dragons that stood in between them and their goal. If the rest of them caused enough of
a distraction, the dragons might not notice the two smallest people making their way through. Could
a dragon see through the Disillusionment Charm?

*Time to find out.*

Tapping himself on the head, Harry cast the charm on himself. Hermione followed suit and that
more than anything convinced Harry she was finally back on track. He took her hand, knowing it
would be folly to lose each other in the scrum.

“On your move,” Hermione said in her disembodied voice.

They were hardly anything more than a ripple along the ground. Moving quickly, Harry spared a
glance upwards as he spotted a dragon with a green tint. It was massive. The green dragon would
easily crowd the Great Hall. For the moment, the green dragon was distracted by a shower of spells
aimed for its eyes. It took no notice as Harry and Hermione passed beneath its legs.

His back crashed against a boulder, his hand still tightly gripping Hermione's.
*Where's the nest?* Harry felt a tug on his hand. Taking the physical cue, he peered
around the corner to find the a clear path to a nest of eggs on a raised boulder. There looked to
be around half a dozen eggs, but it was clear which one was for them to take. A golden egg lay in
the middle, catching the glint of the sun.

It was not two hundred feet away, a straight and clear shot.

Harry heard something fly through the air and the sound of a sick crunch. A body flew over their
heads, disappearing beneath another jagged rock. It had passed by too quickly for Harry to identify
and he could only hope that person was okay. The temperature around them rose in an instant as one
of the dragons spit fire through the air. A girl screamed, the pitch high and loud. Worst of all,
Harry could see none of this. *Why is it so loud?*

Someone nearby yelled *Accio,* but Harry didn't catch what that person was
summoning.

“Are we doing this or not?” Hermione asked.

*No fear.*

Pulling her hand, Harry made for the egg.

She couldn't run as fast as he could, but he did not dare let go. Harry's lungs filled
with smoke, but he did not cough. Feet padding quickly along the ground, they could have only been
fifty feet away when a dragon landed near the nest. The impact of the creature hitting the ground
was so strong that it sent Harry and Hermione tumbling. Disoriented and on his back, Harry looked
up to see a monstrous, black dragon standing in between them and the golden egg.

If the green dragon crowded the Great Hall, this black dragon devoured it. Devilish red eyes
swept the ground. The end of the dragon's tail was covered with horned spikes. It sensed their
presence. The Disillusionment Charm confused the black dragon, but it was coming closer. *Smell
and taste.* *It knows we're here,* Harry thought. The forked tongue flew out of its
mouth, testing the air as it looked for them. Hermione's grip was crushing his hand, but he
could hardly feel the pain. *Do I move? Do I stay still?*

Harry was saved from answering that question.

“Oi, you big git! Nice, redheaded meat over here! I prefer being cooked rare!” George hollered
as he shot a *Conjuctivitis* curse at the black dragon's eyes.

“Two for one! Best eaten together!” Fred shouted as he waved his wand in a wide arc and let
loose a shower of red and blue sparks that filled the air.

*They're idiots. Glorious, bumbling fools.* Harry thanked them for that.

Harry didn't know if Fred and George knew they were right in front of the dragon. Perhaps
they were still sticking with Cedric's plan. Whatever reason they had for tempting the black
dragon, Harry did not care. He dragged Hermione to her feet, hoping the twins' distraction
would be enough. The smell of sulfur was even stronger near the dragon. He was practically crying
and there was a strong itch in the back of his throat.

They had not taken two steps when the dragon swung its neck around, stomping noisily. Its
nostrils flared, the forked tongue snaking out again. Fred and George were still shooting spells at
the black dragon, but it was not paying attention to them. *Turn around, you bastard. We're
not here.*

Harry and Hermione remained unmoved, both sets of eyes on the dragon. The black beast stopped
and the world seemed to come to a standstill. The dull roar of the crowd faded into the background.
The swirling air came to a stop. The world was suddenly confined to just Hermione and the black
dragon. Its nostrils flared. The snout was so close that the droplets splashed across his face. It
stopped and green met red as it looked right into his eyes. This was not a normal beast.

This was a monster.

“RUN!” Hermione's shrill scream shattered the stillness.

This time, they did not move as one. Harry broke to his right and felt the tug of Hermione's
hand as she pulled the other way. Her fingers slipped out of his grasp. There was no time to look
back. The dragon opened its mouth and the world turned red and orange. The heat was likely to set
his insides on fire and it didn't even come close to him.

Fred and George were still trying to get the dragon's attention, going so far as to wave
their arms from the boulders they were standing on. Harry chanced a look back and saw the dragon
was sniffing the air again. *It doesn't know which one of us to go after,* he thought with
some semblance of satisfaction.

The horned tail of the dragon twitched and for one terrifying moment, Harry thought it was going
to come crashing down on him. Instead, the dragon swung around, clambering awkwardly on its talons.
*Where is it going? No. No, no, no, no, no.*

The talons scraped against the scorched earth as the creature moved ungainly away from Harry. It
was chasing something unseen. It was chasing another invisible force. It was chasing Hermione. It
must have focused in on the scent as it reared back to its full height. Spells were bombarding the
dragon, but its hard scales protected it from most of the damage. The dragon's head suddenly
descended, the neck stretching out as it went for the kill.

*Flesh.*

As the dragon reached for its kill, there was finally an area of the dragon not covered by
impenetrable scales. The skin was a pale gray, the glowing embers visible from within. Harry
stopped in his tracks and reacted by instinct. He cut upwards with his right hand, an angry red
slash erupting from the tip of his wand.

“*LACERO!”*

The Cutting Curse did not break skin. No blood was spilled. There was only a harsh red line on
the pale gray skin near the head of the dragon. Yet, the monster flinched. The devilish red eyes
blinked furiously as it stayed the attack on the still invisible Gryffindor. The black demon
roared, rattling Harry's bones. Tapping himself on the head, Harry removed the Disillusionment
charm.

*Come after me.*

The black dragon snarled at him, but Harry noticed he was not inching out from the position near
the nest. Fred and George were hollering somewhere behind him. One of the other dragons roared in
the distance and the air was heavy with spells. The dragon fully encompassed Harry's field of
view, blocking out the nest. *This one is smart. It knows what we're trying to do.*

*“**Ignem Flagella!”* Harry yelled.

Harry made a half circle with his hand, bringing it near his wand, and conjured a fiery whip. It
uncoiled like a red snake, hissing as it smacked against the ground. Harry took a firm step forward
and brought the conjured whip in the air. He lashed it down near the dragon and the creature
flinched backwards. It snarled, eyeing the fire whip emanating from Harry's wand.

“Come out, you bastard!” Harry egged it on.

Someone screamed, inciting another snarl from the beast.

Yet, the dragon did not come after him. Even as Fred, George, and Harry egged it on, the dragon
refused to move away from the nest. Hermione was still Disillusioned and hopefully she was smart
enough to just bide her time and wait for them to lure the dragon away. Harry twirled the whip and
cracked it again, reaching for the snout of the dragon. It must have had enough because it sent out
a jet of fire. The dragon's breath had some magic as Harry's fire whip vanished. His wand
suddenly seemed like it caught fire as it became scalding hot in his hand. Harry held a firm grip,
however, and was thankful for the dragonhide gloves.

A shadow blotted the sun overhead and Harry looked up to see a red-tinted dragon land near the
nest. Harry fell over from the minor earthquake generated by the red dragon. There were now two of
them guarding the nest. Harry cursed being last. By this point, the dragons must have known they
were going for the eggs after the first two schools attacked them. The black dragon growled and
bent its head low, the snaking neck winding and quivering. The red eyes focused on Harry.

*Run.*

Harry turned his back to the dragon and sprinted for the collection of rocks ahead of him. They
weren't close enough. An ear-splitting scream barely registered in his mind. His lungs were
filled with smoke and ash, but Harry pushed on. Chancing a look over his shoulder, he was dismayed
to find the black dragon slowly lurching after him. The mouth opened, the dark abyss waiting to
envelop him. Red embers glowed from within the bottomless pit. Harry turned away, knowing it was no
use to look back now.

*“**Conjuctivitis!”*

It was Hermione's voice. The black dragon screamed loudly behind him, but Harry did not dare
turn around. The rocks seemed no closer than when he had started sprinting. No doubt the black
dragon would not be delayed for long. Harry had antagonized and taunted it. If he died drawing the
black dragon away, then that was at least one less for the others to fight.

“*HARRY!”*

The voice was booming and amplified and came from above. Looking up, Harry spotted a figure on a
broom descending quickly. His wand was pointed against his throat, the yellow and black cape
billowing behind him. Cedric took the wand off his neck and shot a spell in front of Harry. A red
“X” splashed against the flat top of a raised rock. It was a triangular, jagged piece. It stuck out
amongst the other flatter rocks, but it could serve as a ramp. Harry changed course as the black
dragon roared again.

*Fifteen feet.*

It might have been the longest fifteen feet in his life. The air was as hot as the inside of a
furnace. The *whoosh* of the flame was as terrifying as the consuming heat. Something was
burning. Someone was screaming. All Harry could focus on was the red “X” inching closer and closer
to him.

Cedric flattened his approach, pulling out of the steep dive and leveling out. Tightly gripping
the broom with just his legs, he raised his right hand to fire three blue orbs at the black dragon
behind Harry. Cedric's left hand was extended below the broom, his fingers splayed out. The
fire was on Harry's boots as the dragon shrieked again. The hardness of the rock almost caused
him to stumble as he transitioned from ash and dirt to stone. Three steps was all it took to reach
the top of the rock and Cedric had timed his descent perfectly.

Leaping, Harry grabbed onto Cedric's left hand with both hands and hoped the older boy was
strong enough to keep hold. The broom jerked from the added weight and Cedric grunted as he fought
to keep control, his wand gripped in between two fingers as he held onto both pieces of wood with
just one hand.

Harry grabbed the back end of the broom near the twigs and hoisted himself upwards as the broom
continued to experience turbulence. The soles of his feet skimmed off the top of the rock, but
Cedric finally pulled up. For a second, Harry thought they were going to crash against the stands.
Pulling hard up on the broom, Cedric cleared the stands by just a few feet and Harry grazed by
Susan's strawberry blonde hair. They were perpendicular to the ground at this point and Harry
was holding on for dear life, still gripping Cedric's left hand.

Finally, they leveled out and Harry was able to clamber onto the back of the broom.

“You should have gone for the egg!” Harry yelled into the Hufflepuff's ear.

“You're welcome,” Cedric snapped back.

The horrible scream of the black dragon filled the air and Cedric turned the broom around to
face the stadium. The dragon's head jerked and the leathery wings stretched wide. One flap of
the wings sent a rush of air that visually disturbed the ash and dirt around it. Jumping with its
hind legs, the dragon took flight. The wings beat against the air. The dragon was rising and
rising. Harry could see the blood red eyes eyeing them even from their elevation.

“Go.” Harry beat against Cedric's back as if he were a horse he had to spur on.

The broom lurched again as they raced into the air, the black dragon giving chase.

* * * * * * * * *

*Chinese Fireball. Smaller than other dragons, but the fires burn bright.*

That was what the textbook said about the red-skinned dragon. Hermione was still Disillusioned,
but it would not last long. Already, she could feel the strain of the spell on her magic. The
Chinese Fireball was standing right in front of the nest, flames pouring out of its mouth. If there
was a way past the dragon, Hermione had not realized it yet.

*We need to lure it away. But how?*

The Common Welsh Green was battling the rest of the Hogwarts champions in another section. Both
dragons continued to shriek and scream, sending shivers down Hermione's spine. Cedric and Harry
were already gone, the Hungarian Horntail flying after them. At least that devilish dragon was
gone. It was far larger than the other two. Fred and George continued to try and bait the Chinese
Fireball, but it would not budge.

*Where is everyone else?*

It seemed like Fred and George were the only ones there and they had all they could handle with
the dragon shooting plumes of fire at them. The Hungarian Horntail had detected them but perhaps
the Chinese Fireball would be too distracted by the twins. Whoever set up this task had included a
rather quick end game. If Hermione could reach the egg, it didn't matter if they could
*defeat* the dragon.

*A shortcut. An out.*

It might not have been the smartest idea, but Harry always did say that she tended to overthink
things. *What's the point of being a Gryffindor if I don't engage in some
recklessness?*

Hermione took a deep breath, swallowing ash and smoke, and sprinted for the nest of eggs. The
dragon roared overhead, but she did not look up. Her eyes focused on the path in front of her,
noting the hind legs of the red dragon shuffling around. She weaved left, then right, avoiding a
leathery wing that swooped low. The tail suddenly swept along the ground and Hermione froze on the
spot, waiting for it to pass.

She was right underneath the belly of the dragon now, hiding in it's shadow. She ran then
stopped, started and stalled. The dragon would not stop adjusting its feet or swishing its tail.
Every movement blocked her path. Giant, red pillars revolved around her, threatening to crush her
tiny form. An opening presented itself and Hermione literally dove forward, hitting the ground as
the tail came close again. Coming to her feet, Hermione sprinted the last twenty feet. The golden
egg was now in sight.

There was a blinding pain as her left side was suddenly crushed and her feet came off the
ground. The world turned upside down and Hermione barely cast a Cushioning Charm in time as she
avoided breaking every bone in her body. The dragon's tail finally found its mark and the
Disillusionment Charm broke. She was far from the egg now, dumped behind a jagged boulder. Another
three feet to the left and she could have easily been impaled.

Someone picked her up and Hermione took a second to orient herself. It was Marietta. The
Ravenclaw fired an unknown spell over the rock and turned to her. Ash covered almost every part of
the Ravenclaw's pretty face. Marietta's black hair, normally perfectly sculpted, was a
tangled mess. Her robes were burnt in different areas, the cape tattered and filled with holes.

“You okay, Hermione?” Marietta asked.

*I was so close.* Hermione nodded anyway, chancing a look over the jagged and pointy rock.
Fred, George, and Roger Davies were taking turns trying to blind the dragon. The Chinese Fireball
was becoming more agitated by the second, a steady plume of fire spraying from its mouth. Heather
Locklear suddenly emerged from behind a hooked alcove and hit the Fireball with a spell in the left
eye.

The red dragon swung its head around and let loose a terrible flame that engulfed the Hufflepuff
girl.

“No!” Hermione yelled.

The Hufflepuff girl disappeared behind the orange ball of fire. Heather was screaming. The crowd
audibly screamed at the awful sight. When the fire disappitated, Hermione expected to find a
charred and burned body. Instead, there was nothing but the scorched ground. Heather could not have
possibly Apparated away. Scanning the ground, Hermione found no sign of the Hufflepuff girl.

*Portkey.* *Probably somewhere hidden along our robes.*

The people in charge did not want a student burnt to a crisp in front of the crowd. *How much
would they allow?*

Emboldened, Hermione started chanting a spell.

“What are you doing?” Marietta shot another spell at the red dragon.

“When you see me go out there, go for the egg,” Hermione ordered. “This should be enough of a
distraction.”

“*Congero multo...congero multo…congero multo…*”

Hermione repeated the phrase over and over, her wand swaying in a circle eight in front of her.
She channeled the spell a few more times over until there were three iterations of her crouched in
a circle. Marietta's jaw dropped at the four Hermiones. The real Hermione looked up at her with
a determined look.

“Can you do it?” Hermione asked.

Marietta looked at each of the duplicates and then nodded. “Just don't get yourself
killed.”

The Gryffindor sent the copies of herself out into the open in a dead sprint. The Chinese
Fireball reared back on its hind legs and eviscerated the first one with a plume of fire. Hermione
wondered if it could pick up any scent from the fake body doubles. She directed one of the copies
in front of a solid and tall boulder.

Hermione climbed to the top of the tall boulder from the back, scaling the granite. The red
dragon lurched forward, snapping its teeth at the fake Hermione at the base of the rock. Just as
Hermione reached the flat top of the boulder, the red dragon closed its mouth around the fake
Hermione around the base of the rock. The pale, red neck was suddenly exposed. Hermione stood right
above it and pointed her wand down.

*“**Expulso!”*

She drew blood. A decibel-breaking shriek erupted from the red dragon. It snapped its head in,
withdrawing the neck as yellow eyes glared at Hermione.

*Get the egg, Marietta.* She could only hope the Ravenclaw girl moved quickly. The only way
off the high and flat boulder was to jump and the red dragon was quicker than Hermione. The
Gryffindor girl remained still, her wand poised in front of her. The dragon seemed to consider its
options, smoke pouring from its nose. A deep growl rumbled the ground as the red dragon prepared
for the kill.

*They will not let me die.*

The Portkey was somewhere on her body and they had to see her. The flat boulder was clear off
the ground and she came to halfway the dragon's height. *They will not let me die.*

Opening its mouth, the dragon spread its wings as the fire rushed out from its throat. Hermione
could see the glowing embers suddenly ignite into an all-consuming inferno. The fire leapt through
the air, threatening to engulf her. Surely, the administrators would take action at this point.

*I can't take that chance.*

“*PROTEGO!”*

The heat was unbearable. The shield withered and shook. Some of the flames ignored the blue
shield and licked at her skin and hair. Hermione could smell the disgusting odor of burning hair.
Her eyes were closed, but she was screaming. Though she was screaming, she couldn't hear it.
The fire had its own noise, loud and silent at the same time.

She was still screaming but realized there was no more hell around her. Opening her eyes,
Hermione found no flames. Instead, the dragon was wildly thrashing around. On top of its head,
there was a small boy with an unruly mop of black hair. He was hanging on for dear life, shooting a
steady stream of spells right at the red dragon's head.

*Harry, you stupid boy.*

* * * * * * * * * *

The world was a blur beneath them as Cedric and Harry raced towards Hogwarts. Looking over his
shoulder, Harry could see the black dragon gaining on them. For something so big, it moved so
gracefully in the air. Though Harry and Cedric were flying, the dragon was the one that actually
belonged in the skies.

“How close is it?” Cedric asked, looking over his shoulder.

“Gaining.” Harry checked back again. The black figure was larger. The wings beat against the air
as it gained momentum.

Cedric pitched them in a dive as Hogwarts suddenly filled their vision. Windows and pointed
towers flashed across them as they raced along the castle. Harry was almost impaled on one of the
pointed flag poles. The older Hufflepuff navigated them underneath an archway, brushing against a
pillar. He was quite the flier.

A shadow crossed Harry's face and Harry looked up and to his right to see the black dragon
still giving chase. There were towers and structures blocking the direct path between them, but the
red eyes were ever present. Cedric dove even further, skimming along the ground. Sharply turning a
corner, he yanked the broomstick upwards and ascended quickly. The black dragon momentarily lost
sight of them as they flew parallel to the wall. As they emerged over Hogwarts, Cedric spun them in
a circle.

“Do you see it?” Cedric craned his neck, trying to spot the beast.

Harry went counter to where Cedric was looking but found no sign of the black demon. A nervous
shiver crept along his spine. He could still taste the sulfur on his lips. The air was calm around
them, but every sharp breeze jolted Harry in a different direction. The sound of wings beating
against the air alarmed both of them. The black dragon emerged from behind a tower, its mouth open
and the flames bursting out.

Cedric pulled up on the broomstick and Harry had to grip the Hufflepuff tightly as he pulled
them in an inverted and upside down turn. They dove straight to the ground. Harry's hair
skimmed along the wall of the school. Cedric turned them so they were oriented with their feet
against the wall. Pausing, he pushed off the wall with his feet and circled around a tower faster
than what Harry thought was possible.

The black dragon rushed by them. It might have been the better and faster flier, but it was much
larger and Cedric took the turns so quickly that the dragon struggled to keep up. Weaving in
between pointed towers, Cedric and Harry were just fast enough to stay one step ahead of the
dragon.

However, the black dragon did not seem to tire. Everywhere they went around the castle, it
trailed not too far behind. The claws scratched against the tile as it tried to take turns faster
to stay in line with Cedric. Flames would reach for the twigs of the broom when the dragon got
close enough to try. Cedric refused to give up, pulling off moves that would have not looked out of
place at the Quidditch World Cup.

*We can't keep running forever.*

After another hairpin turn that lost the dragon, Harry spoke into Cedric's ear. “Drop me off
near the Astronomy tower.”

“Why?!” Cedric asked incredulously as they dipped beneath another archway.

“It's not going to stop,” Harry answered. Making sure the dragon was not right behind them,
Cedric navigated them towards the Astronomy tower.

“Keep it flying around for a little bit but then bring it near the tower again. Make sure its
close to you,” Harry ordered.

“You want me to get *closer* to the damn thing?” Cedric did not sound pleased and ran a
hand through his ruffled blond hair.

“Just make sure its right behind you and keep it flying straight.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Too late to explain.” Harry jumped off the broom when they were close enough and landed on a
thankfully flat roof.

The dragon emerged again, a black leviathan that blocked the sun. Harry hid himself behind a
structural pillar as Cedric sped away. Never stopping, the dragon followed after him and mercifully
left Harry alone. The air whipped around him as he looked down. The Astronomy tower was the highest
tower in Hogwarts, but it was braced by two classrooms with flat roofs. He clambered down
awkwardly, making sure to take each step carefully as he brought himself towards the ledge.

The roof was slanted and the shingles were smooth. It was a difficult path. Harry had to make
sure he stepped on the jagged edge of a tile instead of the smooth top. Any misstep would result in
a fall that not even a Cushioning charm could save. He could hear the dragon roar as it chased
after Cedric, but it did not sound close. Harry licked his lips and tasted ash and smoke.

One of the tiles gave way and Harry lost his balance. His hands went flailing out, trying to
grab anything. His wand slowly slipped out of his grasp, the wood rubbing against the dragonhide
gloves.

"No!" Harry cried as his wand tumbled over the edge.

Cursing, Harry made it the last few feet and placed his feet again the solid and flat ledge. He
peered over the edge to try and see if his wand was close but it wasn't within sight.

The ledge allowed him ample foot room so he was no longer on an uneven and slanted tile. Still,
he had to grasp a cement block that stood out from the rest. It provided him with a good counter
balance and hand hold as he settled down to concentrate on the truly difficult task.

*Our spells hardly do anything to it. Even with the neck exposed, I inflicted very little
damage.*

From what little Harry had read on dragons, he knew they were resistant to magic. It was the
reason most of them were killed off in the earlier centuries. Scores of wizards perished with every
dead dragon, but it was necessary. The dragons were not invincible, however. They were like
anything else, made out of flesh and blood.

The Astronomy tower was narrow. When Cedric called for his meetings, they could barely fit the
champions at the top. It was meant to just be an observation post but since Hogwarts had changed,
the Astronomy class was abandoned and there was very little use for it besides being the premier
snogging spot.

At the top of the tower was a seven foot flag pole. It would normally raise the Hogwarts banner,
but there was no flag present today. The tip was sharp and pointed.

*If I had my wand, it would be so easy.*

Sticking his right hand out over the ledge, Harry said, “*Accio wand.”*

He already knew that the wand would not come to him. There was no conviction in the way he said
the spell. If Harry had learned anything from practicing wandless magic, conviction and belief were
as important as knowledge of the spell. Another attempt was just as futile. The dragon roared
again, closer this time.

The wind howled viciously. Harry's cape wrapped itself around his body and he had to
untangle himself. Stepping away from the edge, Harry leaned back against the stone wall, his left
hand still gripping the jutting brick. Wandless and hundreds of feet above the ground, Harry felt
vulnerable. Yet, he still had a plan. He needed only the means to execute it.

The seven foot flagpole atop the Astronomy tower gleamed against a rare ray of sunlight.

Stretching out his right hand, Harry said, *“Lacero.”*

The steel groaned as the flagpole wavered, but Harry didn't know if it was the spell or just
the wind. He doubted it work as soon as he said the spell. From what little he knew about wandless
magic, confidence was as much a factor as the technicalities of the spell. The dragon roared again,
closer this time.

*I need this. I need this.*

*“**LACERO!”*

The sharp snap of metal surprised him as much as the sudden pain in his side. The wind stung
against his eyes as he blinked through tears. There was nothing atop the castle except for the
strong gale whipping around him and the long, metal pole teetering on top of the Astronomy tower.
Turning his right hand upwards, Harry called out one more wandless spell.

*“**Wingardium Leviosa.”*

The last tether of metal snapped clean off as Harry levitated the broken flagpole through the
air. He brought it closer to him, concentrating on the gleaming metal. The top of the flagpole was
sharp as a razor. His hands were sweating. His body was sweating. Beads of sweat poured down his
back. The protective robe that was effective against the dragons was suddenly suffocating.

*Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down.*

He chanted the mantra in his head, ignoring the aching in his shoulders and the weakness in his
knees. The weight was heavy. Lifting the seven foot pole was much more difficult than his light
wand. Stone chewed into his left hand as he held on even tighter, drawing blood. The black dragon
screamed, the shrill noise close.

*Up. Down. Up. Down.*

The sharp pole hovered just above him. Harry turned his wrist slowly. The pole moved in unison,
twisting in the air until it was in a forty five degree angle to the flat ledge. The point was
still sharp and Harry could only hope that the metal would hold. His body was on fire, his cheeks
flush. Blood was in his mouth. Spitting, he sprayed the ground with a red mix and tasted
copper.

“HARRRRRRRRYYYYY!”

Cedric screamed by him, flipping and tumbling at a shocking pace. He was a yellow and black
blur, but the Hufflepuff kept his path straight. Harry could hear the leathery wings against the
air and knew Cedric had succeeded in his task.

*Up.*

Trow had told Harry the story of Dumbledore and Grindelwald's final battle. Grindelwald had
decided to confront Dumbledore at Hogwarts. Hog's Head never fully recovered from when
Grindelwald tore it apart. Dumbledore was waiting at Hogwarts, knowing that the dark wizard was
trying to draw him out. The Hogwarts teacher sensed Grindelwald was waiting for him across the
Great Lake. Even Grindelwald was not so foolish to dare duel Dumbledore on Hogwarts grounds.
Dumbledore had used Omnioculars to spy Grindelwald waiting from him at the edge of the lake,
holding Hogsmeade hostage.

Harry wondered if this was how Dumbledore felt. Grindelwald had come to the footsteps of the
castle, taunting Dumbledore and daring him to come out in the open. They were in the dragon's
element now, high in the air as the dragon soared through the sky. *Did Dumbledore know he was
going to defeat Grindelwald? Did he know?* Harry didn't know if this sharp spear would kill
the dragon.

*It is only flesh.*

Adjusting for the dragon's speed, Harry heaved the broken flagpole before the dragon was in
sight. He propelled it with his magic, the strain bringing him to his knees. The sharp end whistled
through the air as the dragon came in view. The gray neck was stretched, trying to reach Cedric. It
did not even know Harry was there.

*Down.*

The pole punched through the gray skin. Blood spurt out and splashed against the stone walls.
The sharp end tore through the other side of the dragon's neck. It wavered in the air,
stumbling against an invisible current. The black dragon pitched end over end like a barrel, the
wings unable to stabilize its fall. Gallons of blood poured from its neck, cascading down like
scarlet rain. Harry leaned over the edge as the dragon continued its rapid descent. It gave one
last horrible shriek before it smashed against the ground and then there was no more sound.

Harry's body was trembling, his vision swimming. However, as soon as he released the
Levitation charm, he felt better. There was still a stifling fatigue lingering over him, but relief
poured over him in waves. The black demon was dead.

Cedric whistled lowly as he came back around. The handsome Hufflepuff stared at the still hot
carcass of the dragon as he hovered in front of Harry. When Cedric was close enough, Harry finally
released the jutting rock, leaving a bloody imprint of his hand. Climbing onto the back of the
broom, Harry tapped Cedric's shoulder when he was ready to move.

“I need to get my wand. I dropped it when the dragon fell,” Harry lied.

As Cedric circled over the carcass, he asked, “How did you come up with that?”

“I was looking for a permanent solution. We couldn't run away from that monster forever,”
Harry said. “Why don't you put that Summoning charm to good use? That is how you got your
broom, right? It must be pretty good if you summoned your broom all the way from the castle.”

Cedric muttered something about *practice,* but he was still focused on the smoking body of
the dragon. Coming to a stop, the Hufflepuff said, “*Accio Harry's wand.”*

The phoenix-cored wand flew from a patch of grass. Cedric handed it over to him. Harry could
barely grip the wand. His palm was sore and needles pricked his wrist as he held onto the wand.
Still, he felt whole again. Flying over the dragon, Harry could finally see how large it was. Its
final resting place was on the northeast side of the castle. The greenhouses were saved from being
crushed underneath the carcass. The right wing was crushed underneath the body. Blood framed the
head of the beast. The horned tail tore down the trunk of a tree.

Harry should have felt sad for the dragon, but he could not bring himself to.

“We should hurry back.” Cedric ran a hand through his hair again. They left the dead dragon and
no more red eyes followed them.

Speeding northwest, they raced over the Forbidden Forest. The large arena emerged behind the
tree tops and two dragons were still fighting. The green dragon had holes through its leathery
wings while the red one one reared to its full height.

The scarlet dragon was focused on someone in particular and as they approached the stadium,
Harry could just identify the brunette Gryffindor standing on top of a large boulder

"I got a clear shot at the egg. I'm going to -"

Harry interrupted Cedric mid-sentence. "Bring me over the red one!"

"Harry, the egg!"

"Hermione!" Harry pointed at her and watched the flames engulf her.

Cedric leaned forward and the broom hit an extra speed. Without thinking, Harry leapt and landed
awkwardly on the dragon's head. Pointing his wand down, he expended the rest of his magical
energy with close range *Bombardas.*

The dragon abated the fiery attack and twisted its head, trying to throw Harry off. With nothing
to grip for balance, Harry tumbled off the snout, the world a blur as he crashed against the
ground.

A sharp snap and a searing pain in his right knee sent him reeling. The blinding pain rendered
him temporarily incoherent. His leg was twisted awkwardly. The right knee cap didn't seem to
belong in the right place. Wand still in his hand, Harry looked up to find the red dragon looming
menacingly in front of him.

*"Conjuctivitis!"* Nothing came out of his wand but lame, red sparks. Harry was
spent.

A river of blood flowed off the dragon's neck. It was near indistinguishable on its skin,
but as it splattered along the ground, the blood left a slick trail. Finding the last bit of
desperate energy within, Harry crawled backwards. His right leg was not responding and every time
his left arm touched the ground, a thousand spears went through his elbow.

His view was suddenly obscured as someone dropped in front of him. Harry could only see
*Granger* etched onto the back of the robes. *The egg, Hermione. You need to get the
egg...*

Harry couldn't keep his train of thought straight. They were jumbled and he felt like laying
down and giving up. Consciousness was slipping from his grasp. The dragon roared for the umpteenth
time. Someone joined Hermione and stood by her side. There was a name etched on the back of his
jersey too. *Diggory...*

Cedric raised his wand in a wide arc just just as the red dragon opened its mouth. Something
blue and liquid materialized out of the air to meet the oncoming fire. The world was suddenly a
pale mist. *Am I dead?* Harry wondered.

He could not be for the dragon reappeared behind the heavy mist. Hermione and Cedric were still
standing in between them. The latter raised his wand in a wide arc again. A huge wall of water was
erected in front of of the dragon. For a moment, it seemed to have confounded the unruly beast.

A red snout burst through the conjured waterfall. Yellow eyes and sharp teeth descended upon
them. The dragon opened opened its mouth. The crowd cheered, their own roar deafening, but all
Harry could see was the black abyss threatening to swallow them.

As the dragon's teeth closed in around them, Harry fell backwards. Consciousness left him.
He drifted and drifted, vaguely wondering why the crowd was cheering his death.

* * * * * * * *

**Projected update time: 40 days**
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37. Remember The Name
---------------------



The Chinese Fireball died two days later.

It took the better part of forty dragon trainers to stop it from killing everything in sight.
After, the red beast would not stay unconscious long enough for the trainers to heal it. With
wounds on every part of its body, the red dragon eventually weakened past the point of recovery. In
the end, only the Common Welsh Green survived the ordeal.

Heather Locklear suffered burns to her face and hands but managed to escape without any
permanent damage. The jars of burn salve had come in handy. Heather informed Snape that she would
quit the tournament the next day. Cedric half-heartedly tried to persuade her to stay, but the girl
had brushed too close to death. If Bagman activated the portkey just a few seconds too late,
Heather might have suffered permanent damage to her plain face.

Marcus Belby quit as well. He had performed admirably in distracting the Common Welsh Green, but
the task rattled him. *No amount of money or glory can get me to go in there again,* he had
said. That left just eleven Hogwarts champions. Most of them acquired various pains and aches.
Cedric was fortunate to leave vastly unharmed thanks to his flying skills. Fred and George had to
have ash suctioned out of their lungs. Roger had burns all the way up his left arm, but his skin
was bright red instead of black. Angelina had a large gash across her face from running into a
rock, but that was easily fixable. Lee Jordan was actually the one that tamed the Welsh Green,
slicing up its wings. Stephen Stebbins and Cho Chang were knocked unconscious early, victims of the
Hungarian Horntail.

Marietta ended up stealing the golden egg. With both of the dragons mightily distracted,
Marietta finally had a clear shot of the egg. She turned her ankle jumping out of the nest, but it
was a worthy injury. Hermione avoided any burns on her skin, but her hair had caught fire. It
wasn't something that could be easily fixed. She eventually trimmed it so it closely framed her
face. The tangly bush was gone, but Hermione must have taken some pride in her long hair. The
threatening look on her face when Harry saw her for the first time with her new cut was enough to
keep him quiet.

Harry suffered more than anyone else out of all three schools.

A torn patella tendon in his right knee was the first of his maladies. It was not something that
could be mended overnight like a broken bone. Madame Pomfrey managed to repair the tendon, but
there were very few potions or spells that could speed up the process. Harry would have to walk
with a limp for a few weeks. The deep cut in his arm ripped the muscle in half. The recovery only
took a night, but the pain kept Harry awake the whole time. His left shoulder was also dislocated
from his tumble off the dragon. Three broken ribs and contusions all over his body were the last of
his physical problems.

Pomfrey also managed to keep him from going into Wetigan's Shock. Peter Wetigan was the head
of the Department of Muggle Affairs during the early eighteenth century. He attempted to fly over
the Atlantic with nothing but Levitation charms. Convinced he could do it, he cast the charm every
ten seconds to keep him afloat. According to his last owl, he unexpectedly found himself unable to
cast any more spells. *Body failing me. Wish my wife the best. Should have taken the broom*,
Wetigan wrote. Thereafter, Wetigan's Shock was the term used for a wizard who exhausted the
magic in the body.

Harry had almost done the same. There was no way to specifically calculate how much magic was
left in his body, but his skin was cold to the touch when they recovered him. He was also
unresponsive to any magical healing charms for a few minutes, another side effect of Wetigan's
Shock. Only a vial of perfectly brewed Replenishing potion from Headmaster Snape had saved him from
the same fate as Peter Wetigan.

He was the last to leave the Hospital Wing, long after everyone had gone. Pomfrey had insisted
on keeping him for two extra nights because of the torn patella tendon and his low magical
properties. During that time, he had a chance to catch up on how everyone else had fared.
Beauxbatons had been first. The dragons might have been caught unawares as they did not put up
nearly as much of a fight as they had with Hogwarts. Fleur had magically enchanted two of the
dragons herself, but the Hungarian Horntail was insatiable. They caused enough distractions though
and Karim Tireur, the lone male of Beauxbatons, struck the Horntail with several accurate spells
right in the eyes.

Durmstrang fought a little differently. They made great use of transfiguring different objects
out of the rocks. Viktor Krum was even able to transfigure a large boulder into a moving dog,
something which distracted the dragons. Of course, this information was all second hand - mostly
from Tracey. If they had records or pensieves on the First Task, they were not showing it to the
champions.

The night after the First Task, a large feast was held in the Great Hall, but Harry missed it.
Almost everyone else was discharged save for a Durmstrang student who would not stop bleeding from
the eye. Harry didn't mind missing the feast, but he wished that Pomfrey would let him go.
There was so much to review, but he did not want to chance seeing Hermione in such a high volume
area. The Slytherins had visited him and he allowed them a few minutes to congratulate him but
dismissed shortly after. It would be well for them to see him in such a vulnerable position.

Cedric often visited, mostly to inform him of the fallout of the First Task. Charlie Weasley,
one of the multitude of Weasleys, had made very large complaints about the fact that Harry killed
the Hungarian Horntail. There was nowhere in the rules that they were *not* allowed to kill
the dragons, however, so Harry avoided any punishment or degradation from the trainers, especially
Charlie Weasley. That did not stop the Hogwarts populace from bestowing yet another nickname upon
Harry.

*The Dragonkiller.*

Harry noted that the suffix was *killer* instead of something more heroic like
*slayer* or *fighter.* Cedric had joked about the moniker, claiming that he should have
received a nickname as well. The Hufflepuff refused to take credit for the kill, however, and told
everyone that it was Harry who killed the Hungarian Horntail. Some either did not believe him or
chose not to believe him for they still showered Cedric with praise. After all, they did see Cedric
and Hermione defend the comatose Harry from the Chinese Fireball just before Marietta snatched the
egg.

*Let them keep talking. The more they talk, the more fearsome I become.* Projection of fear
was something that he could do without putting forth too much effort. If he refused to quell any
rumors, it would lend some credence to it. More importantly, he did not want anyone to know about
the amount of wandless magic it took to kill the Horntail.

The scores for each school were also announced afterwards. Snape, Karakoff, and Maxime, and
Bagman were the judges and had equal input. They unanimously granted Beauxbatons first place as
each judge gave them three points for successfully retrieving the egg with no losses and little
intervention from the enchanted dragons. Durmstrang was in second. Karakoff was the only one to
give them three points. Snape and Maxime each gave the school from Norway two points while Ludo
only favored them with one at first then eventually changing it to two. Hogwarts was last as Maxime
and Karakoff granted them with a point only for Harry's part in killing the mythical beast.
Snape and Bagman gave Hogwarts full points.

The tally stood as such: Beauxbatons had the maximum points at twelve. Durmstrang was in second
with nine points. Hogwarts trailed just behind with eight.

On his third and last night in the Hospital Wing, Harry entertained one last visitor.

She walked through the moonlight, her hair shimmering as it went from dark to light to dark
again. Fleur wore the standard blue Beauxbatons uniform, the top hugging her bodice until it flared
out at the hips. Her slender legs stroked the ground as she approached his bedside. Harry sat up
straight, trying to look as confident as he could in a reclined position. *If only Blaise could
see me now. What would he say?* *Best not to talk, Potter. Your mouth always does you more
harm than good. Go with your wand.* No doubt, there would be a wink at the end of it.

“My dragonslayer.” Fleur smiled with her eyes as she sat on the edge of his bed, one porcelain
leg crossed over the other.

“Don't tell me you've bought into that too," Harry said.

"I have to admit, there is a certain romanticism in it. The hero slaying the dragon. It is
every young girl's dream," Fleur said in her slightly accented English.

Harry laughed but could not find any more words. He hated this effect she had on him. Her very
presence altered the way his brain worked. He could feel the magic radiating off her. It was
irritating yet intoxicating.

"I'm sure, right now, there are young girls around the world that have heard of Harry
Potter slaying the black dragon," Fleur continued.

Changing beats, Harry said, "Maybe young boys are talking about Fleur Delacour and how she
enchanted the dragons."

"I'm sure young boys are thinking of something else." She smiled.

Harry laughed more easily at that. Though her presence was overwhelming at first, she had a way
to put him at ease. Much like their first meeting in the Great Hall, Fleur found the words to let
him relax. She tucked a long, blonde strand behind her ear. Her hands overlapped each other on her
lap. It was deceivingly innocent.

"I meant to congratulate you earlier, but I did not want to intrude. Some think that
it's inappropriate to consort with other champions," Fleur said.

There were a few that Harry could think of in his own school. "I should be congratulating
you as well. You did a much cleaner job than us."

“I've certainly noticed your school's tendency to pick the most violent solution. But
the job got done in the end, didn't it? I'm not one to argue against results,” she
said.

It had never occurred to Harry that there was another way to approach the task. There were other
solutions had their plan not fallen apart. Perhaps Fred and George could have done a better job at
distracting them with transfigurations or charms. Maybe Cedric could have gone straight for the egg
and forgoed the rest of them. Yet, their plan had always been to attack the dragons directly.
Beauxbatons and Durmstrang opted for subterfuge and misdirection. Was Hogwarts that different?

“So, what brings you here? I've heard they're still celebrating the First Task.”

Fleur shrugged. “Curiosity? I've heard many stories about you, Harry Potter. People have
said that you read minds. You steal their battle plans in the middle of the night and seduce women
just by looking at them. You win by transforming into a giant snake.You call down lightning from
the clouds. There's even rumors that you had a student dismissed from school just because he
crossed you.”

“Do you believe any of them?”

“What does it matter which ones I believe? People talk. That is just the way of things,” she
said.

“People talk about you too,” said Harry.

“People have talked about me all my life. Some nice. Most cruel. I've learned to ignore what
they say, but most what they say about me is true. The truth may be tainted with different colors,
but it is the truth nonetheless. It has never been said that I can summon lightning from the
clouds, for example. People say that I can devour men in a single swallow and while that may be an
exaggeration, it is still the truth.”

“Can you really?” Harry asked.

She smiled coyly.

“Truthfully, you are interesting and I like interesting people. It isn't often I meet
someone that draws more eyes than I do,” Fleur said.

“I don't know about that.” Harry drank in the sight of her, shifting uncomfortably beneath
the bedsheet.

Fleur laughed, a sweet sound that danced through the air. Her face turned somber in a second,
however, the warm blue eyes suddenly cold. She turned to him and Harry swore the air turned dark
around her.


“But I come to you for another reason, Harry. I would not dare to warn you with others around to
hear. Even now, *mon ami* pretends I am somewhere that I am not. There are others who wish to
see you...removed from this tournament.”

Harry shrugged. He was used to such threats. “That's not really anything new to me.”

“I have heard about others. Boys who have attacked you in the middle of the night,” she said.
Harry was surprised to hear about that.

“Then why are you telling me?”

“Because you might find more formidable foes than your classmates here.”

Harry thought of Justin. He thought of Tracey hanging from a rope, her face blue and lifeless.
*Justin might not have been powerful, but that means nothing.*

“If you're telling me I need to be scared, you're going to have to have a lot more than
saying others want me removed from the tournament. I knew that as soon as I signed up. People have
been out to get me since I defeated Ron Weasley in my first duel in my First Year.”

“Then listen to this.” Fleur leaned closer, her breasts pressing against the front of her robes.
“I know those who wish you harm. They are not some classmates wanting to knock you down a few
places. They are older than you. Wiser. Most likely, they are more powerful. They do not care for
the rules of Hogwarts and what may happen to them because they will *not* be caught. *No
fear* is what your headmaster often says. I will not insult him directly, but I don't
believe that is the best thing to say. You should fear a little, Harry Potter. They are coming for
you.”

*Again?* Harry thought amusedly. *Let them come.*

“And why are you telling me this?” Harry asked.

Fleur stood up, smoothing down her robes. Her hands glanced over the shape of her hips, the blue
robes rippling along her body. The moonlight caught her skin, giving her an ethereal glow. She was
truly the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“You are interesting, Harry. People do not like seeing those whom they perceive are above them.
Trust me on this, they will do their best to make you ugly and uninteresting.”

She leaned down and squeezed his hand. As she tried to let go, Harry wrapped his fingers around
hers. He asked, “Will you tell me who they are?”

Fleur shook her head sadly, her straight, blonde hair shimmering like a halo.

“I do not wish to make any more enemies than I already have.”

* * * * * * * * * * *

Madame Pomfrey assigned Tracey to assist Harry as he was discharged from the Hospital Wing. He
was to not perform any strenuous magic for a week. In addition, he was to use a cane until such a
time that his leg healed without the assistance of the prop. It was a plain thing, dark brown wood
carved into a staff that came a little above his hip. The end was smoothed and sanded over so he
could grip it without splinters digging into his skin.

“Is this really necessary?” Harry asked

Tracey fixed him with a mean glare. “You tore your patella tendon clear off. Pomfrey is a
miracle worker and that's the best she can do. Be glad your whole leg didn't come off. It
wouldn't be as simple as fixing up the tendon and giving you a cane. Ask Professor Moody.”

Harry had no inclination to talk to the moody ex-Auror. As Tracey assisted him out of the bed,
he tested his right knee to see if there was any stability to it. Leaning on his leg, he felt fine
but as soon as he pivoted, a sharp pain raced up his thigh. He hissed quietly and Tracey tutted her
disapproval.

“Avoid pivoting and making quick turns. You want to take it slow while it heals. You're
going to need to take some potions every night to accelerate the healing process, but I can help
you with that,” Tracey said.

Harry knew what she was doing, but he allowed it. The sooner he recovered, the faster he could
get rid of this already cursed cane. It would not do him well for others to see him so weak. If
Fleur was correct, there were already those plotting to take advantage of any mistake he could
make. Of course, how they planned to attack him was still in question. She had been reluctant to
name the plotters, so it had to be someone close. Most likely, someone in Beauxbatons.

He neglected to mention any of this to Tracey. While part of him wished to confide in her, doing
so would remove the barrier he had placed between them. It was difficult for him to treat her like
another one under his command. It would be even more trouble to divulge Fleur's secrets with
her. For the time being, Harry would have to hold Tracey at arm's length. She held his arm
lightly as he tested the cane. Eventually, he managed it on his own.

Navigating the moving staircases was difficult. He couldn't move fast and when he had the
instinct to jump the last step, Harry would have to stop and wait. Limping along, the going was
slow as they approached the Great Hall. Movements that he took for granted were now cumbersome. As
he walked, his right leg turned stiffer and stiffer. Harry made no complaints, however. He could
not show weakness.

Taking his time, Harry slowed as he arrived on the ground floor. The halls were empty in the
middle of the day as most students were at lunch. Sunlight streamed through the ornate windows,
warming the castle. It would not be long before the cold grip of winter took over. Harry was
thankful that there would be some time before the Second Task. The Yule Ball would serve as a
buffer and he needed his knee healed before the task.

“Tell me about our class,” Harry said as they continued their slow pace.

Tracey noticeably fidgeted, but Harry said nothing of it.

“They're okay. Morale has taken a hit since we've lost the last few times, but
you've been busy, of course,” she said.

“Who is complaining?”

Tracey hesitated but eventually gave an answer. “Pansy hasn't been that happy. She's
never happy though. That girl was born with the spoon shoved all the way into her throat. Nott is
concerned, but he's never been one to take matters in own hands. And...um…”

“Blaise?” Harry silenced her stammering.

Tracey fell silent. The brown cane clomped along the ground. Every time the flat end struck
against the ground, it created a queer noise. The *slap* was louder in the pocket of silence.
Twice, Tracey opened her mouth to say something but repressed it. Her back finally stiffened as she
raised her chin and stared straight.

“He still thinks he should have more authority instead of sharing it with Draco.”

“Do you think the same?” *I already know you do.*

She hedged and looked torn. Her face was too easy to read.Tracey did her best to hide it, but
those deep blue eyes were so expressive. Harry knew she was spending more time with Draco since
they were both in the Medical track. They were moving slow, but Tracey's mind seemed to be
moving slower.

“I think one person backing you up is better than two. If they make conflicting decisions in the
field, who would we listen to?” Tracey finally said.

“I said to defer to Draco.”

“And Draco isn't exactly held in the highest esteem right now.”

Draco Malfoy, heir to the most ancient of the Pureblood families, held with as much esteem as
Goyle. Every step Harry took to repair Slytherin came with two steps backwards. There was so much
promise in the beginning, but his removal from the field removed the personal touch. It was
partially his choice, placing himself above them, but it would be no use if they started openingly
questioning his orders. *Wasn't that the reason for making myself Commander in the first
place?*

“You don't have to stick up for him, you know. I know what he thinks of me.” Harry
didn't specify a name, but he knew they were both talking about Blaise.

“It doesn't have to be that way,” she responded.

Harry doubted that. He had already thrown Blaise to the wolves once when he dismissed him from
Battle class in front of their whole Year. His friend was not likely to be the subject of such
shame again. Harry could also not come crawling to Blaise on his hands and knees and ask for
forgiveness nor could he demand obedience. He had hoped to quell the issue early but once Slytherin
got a taste of winning, they would not be satisfied with losses. *Winning is the mortar that
holds them together. If there's not enough, they will break apart.*

Harry didn't give her an answer as they entered the Great Hall. Instead, he said, “I'm
going to take lunch alone. Thanks for filling me in.”

Tracey nodded curtly and walked towards the direction of the rest of the Slytherins. The Great
Hall noticeably quieted as Harry entered. Harry leaned on his cane, painfully aware of the eyes
following his slow progress. He took his seat at the end of the Slytherin table, close to the head
table. Food appeared on his plate as. As the fork in his hand scraped against the plate, the
*screech* snapped the students out of their stupor. Some still glanced at him with looks that
varied from fear to interest. Harry placed his cane on the table. *I can't hide my weakness.
I must display it freely.*

A shadow fell across his plate as someone sat across from him. Expecting one of his Slytherins,
Harry was surprised to find one of the Beauxbatons students. It was the lone male. He was one of
the champions, but Harry could not recall his name. His skin was a light tan, someone of obvious
Mediterranean descent. Dark brown eyes, almost black, stared at him intently. Although the
Beauxbatons student was sitting, Harry surmised that he was not that much taller than himself. The
tan-skinned Beauxbatons boy reached across the table and plucked a piece of toast from Harry's
plate.

“Your food is so cold,” he complained. “The sun might be out right now, but the second the
clouds smother it, the long shadow of winter covers this place like a blanket. It's no wonder
my parents moved away.”

He spoke without any sort of accent. There was also a slight English lilt to his voice.

*Karim.* The name finally came to him. Harry shifted in his seat as Fleur's words came
into his head. *They are coming for you*, she had said. Was it a coincidence that a
Beauxbatons student confronted him the day after? Fleur's reluctance to divulge the identity of
these plotters made it more likely that they were in Beauxbatons. He looked around for her, but the
quarter-Veela was not in the Great Hall.

“Did the dragon get your tongue as well as your leg?” Karim asked.

“Neither,” Harry answered.

Karim laughed, but he did not smile. His whole head was bald save for the two black caterpillars
that were his eyebrows. Those black eyes glittered in the afternoon light of the Great Hall. He had
a long, angular face with a pointed chin and thin lips. His robes were still the same shade of
light blue that Fleur wore, but it was in the plain fashion of Hogwarts instead of the elegant
robes the girls of Beauxbatons wore. Karim was thin but not scrawny. There was an air of arrogance
about him.

“You speak very softly. Hear I thought that the voice of Commander Potter might hold some more
weight to it. Or am I speaking to the wrong person?”

*He thinks himself a joker.* “You have the right person.”

“So serious. So somber. So sad. Is everything here like this? I thought it would be good fun to
return to England. My mother was not one to stay around and send me to this school when your
headmaster took over. *Barbaric,* she had said. Yet, when I grew up, all I heard were the
tales of the great wizards and witches from Hogwarts. Renowned duelists that could slice you apart
before you even lifted your wand. *Why couldn't I go there*, I always asked her. The
answer was the same each time. *I did not want you to grow up around that darkness.* One too
many Tireurs had died during the terror of both Dark Lords.”

*Karim Tireur.* Harry could finally recall Snape calling the boy's name as the goblet
spit it out. That Karim was originally from England did not come as much of a surprise at this
point. His accent and his English were things he could not fake. He spoke with an assured
smoothness, much like Snape. Every word rolled into each other, pleasant to the ears until one
listened to the content.

“Yet, here you are,” Harry said.

“Here I am. My mother was so disappointed when she learned I was going to Hogwarts for this
tournament. My father did not care too much. He follows whatever mother says. They've taken to
life in France. We live in Pertuis, a town north of Marseille. The train to Beauxbatons doesn't
take too long. Have you ever been, Commander Potter?” Karim used the moniker mockingly.

“I can't say I have.”

“It's a beautiful place. Smaller than Hogwarts, of course. Yet, very few things contend with
our view of the mountains. We have to take the flying carriages from the base of the mountains
since the path is treacherous even in the summer. Atop the highest tower of Beauxbatons, you can
see Spain and France. When it snows, the world disappears below us and all that exists is
Beauxbatons,” Karim said wistfully.

“Sounds like a wonderful place.” Harry was almost finished with his plate, still wondering what
the Beauxbatons boy wanted.

Karim took out his wand and placed it in the center of the table between them. Harry looked at
it curiously. He was no wandmaker so he could not know what wood the wand was made of and only
Karim knew what was in the core. It looked to be made out of ivory, white as it was, except for the
handle. It was a bright blue that did not look to be natural. The Beauxbatons boy spun it in around
so the axis was in the middle. Karim stopped it with his pointer finger, the point of the wand
directed at Harry.

“It was. Mother was glad when they started accepting the other half of the gene pool into the
academy. I suspect our curriculum is different than yours. Less emphasis on...killing each other,”
Karim said. He spun his white and blue wand again and stopped it with just the tip of his middle
finger this time. The point was still directed at Harry.

He spun it again.

“Truth be told though, I think I was meant to go here. You might not know who I am yet,
Commander Potter, but you will. I have been the best duelist in my Year since I started at the
academy. Even our lovely little Veela has fallen to my wand. I applaud the way you killed that
dragon. You showed me that there is something behind that terrible hair and sour face. I thought
this would be a boring and easy affair, the Bulgarian Seeker excluded. I did not think much of you
when they called your name. *That* is Commander Potter? But to kill a dragon - that is
something else. So, I hope this next task gives us a chance to meet so I can see if I can best the
*Bringer of Lightning.*”

Karim stopped the white and blue spinning wand with his ring finger. It pointed at Harry.

“I am Karim Tireur. Remember the name.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Almost a week had passed and Harry's right knee was only marginally improved. He still had
to walk with a cane out in the halls. Tracey prescribed him three potions to drink every night that
would accelerate the healing process. When he confronted her on the lack of progress, she had the
gall to tell him it was actually on schedule. The pain lessened so it no longer throbbed with every
step. The only time he would feel the weakened knee beg for relief was when he would twist or turn
too quickly. As he was mostly disabled, he was also confined to the Board Room. Slytherin won two
battles for the week, against Ravenclaw and Slytherin, but lost to Gryffindor again.

They grumbled loudly afterwards.

Lupin and Trow continued their history lessons. While they had promised everything on Tom
Riddle, they started hundreds of years before him. Harry learned of Wyllas the Wicked and his hate
for Half-Bloods. There were other dark overlords, but Wyllas was the first one after they signed
International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy in the seventeenth century. The Dark Lord Xaphes
intended to overthrow the Ministry and take the seat for himself. In truth, he was less a Dark Lord
and more a rebel, but his strange fascination with blood earned him the title. Xaphes did not truly
hurt innocents out of malice. They were tools to him. There were two concurrent Dark Lords in the
nineteenth century who sought to break the secrecy pact. The Dark Lord Anjus and the Dark Lord
Mobius were both Slytherins. According to Lupin and Trow, it was a bloody affair spanning four
decades that almost sent wizards and witches back to the burning trials.

After that, there was a rare moment of peace until Grindelwald.

It was past nine by the time they let Harry go. He started the long walk back to the dungeons,
his cane smacking against the ground. His pace was quicker as he pushed himself. *Don't push
yourself too hard*, Tracey had said. Harry was content to keep a brisk pace while moving in a
straight line, only slowing down around corners and stairs. The moonlight cast a white glow along
the ground. The cane was in his right hand and the wand in his left.

He reflected on the Dark Lords of the past. Four had risen to be revered with that title since
the secrecy pact. Each had inflicted unopposed terror for lengthy periods of time. Their
motivations might have different, but the eventual ending was the same. The different Dark Lords
would collect a band of followers. Then, they would use violence and intimidation to either coerce
more to their side or eliminate those who opposed them. The Ministry would hem and haw, rarely
carrying out decisive attacks in fear of breaking the secrecy pact. As a result, it would only take
a great duel between a renowned wizard and the Dark Lord. The death of the Dark Lord effectively
eliminated the rest of the body. *Cut off the head. Just like a snake,* Harry thought.

Sometimes, a group of wizards and witches would band together to defeat a Dark Lord. The Dark
Lord Xaphes had been defeated in such a matter by a set of seven. Before the secrecy pact, wizards
of old would come together to fight those who terrorized the innocent. Yet, it was never without a
cost. It always took far too long for anyone to act. Was it fear? Was it cowardice?

Harry understood that they wanted to create an organizational unit that could effectively fight
Dark Lords and dark wizards alike. It also did not take long for Harry to pick up on the fact that
his impending education of Tom Riddle's life meant it was likely that Lord Voldemort was still
alive. That conclusion only gave way to another set of questions. If Snape conceivably knew, did
that mean the everyone in the Ministry knew? Obviously not as there would be widespread panic, but
who was in this inner circle of knowledge? Harry did not expect answers to these questions.

After descending the winding staircase to the dungeons, Harry found the stone wall of the
Slytherin Common Room. He whispered the password, *widower*, and entered. He expected the
Common Room to be only half full. Instead, it looked like every student in the Slytherin House
awaited him. The Fourth Years were all there. A cluster of First and Second Years stood in the
corner, identifiable by their size. Even the older Slytherins were there. Marcus Flint with his
prominent front teeth. Scabior Trenton with his long, untamed hair. Gemma Farley, the Seventh Year
Prefect. Peregrine Derrick, the Seventh Year with the broken nose. Countless others stood as Harry
entered the Common Room.

Tracey was the first one that clapped.

Others joined in and like a tidal wave, the applause grew and grew until a raucousness overtook
the Slytherin Common Room, the likes of which Harry had never seen before. He was frozen on the
spot, the cane in his right hand and the wand in his left. Someone let out a shrill wolf whistle as
Harry finally limped forwards. They mobbed him, clapping him on the back and ruffling his long,
raven hair. Every jolt hurt his knee, but it was worth it.

They gave him congratulations. They gave him thanks. Harry met Slytherins he had never known
before, especially from the upper years. For once, the usual enmity and hierarchy of order that
prevailed within Slytherin vanished. Harry was above that measure for the time being as the lone
representative of the Slytherin House in the tournament. What else could he do but say thank you in
response? Slowly, the crowd dwindled, others retiring once they got a chance to shake Harry's
hand. Harry did his best to project a thankful image, despite his throbbing knee.

He felt a hand on his elbow and looked to see Tracey leading him to the couch. A rebuttal was on
the tip of his tongue. He was supposed to give them the orders, but Harry allowed it. If they
wanted to celebrate, it would at least dispel the growing enmity between the Fourth Years
momentarily.

“Thank you,” he whispered as he sat down on a plush, leather armchair. Tracey smiled at him,
those deep blue eyes shining brightly. At last, it was only the Fourth Year Slytherins left.

“We never really got to celebrate,” she explained. “They had a big feast the night afterwards,
but it was hard to celebrate without you being there. Everyone had their champions to surround
expect us. It occurred to me that we never got to properly honor you. We got all of the Slytherins
together to at least give you a hearty welcome back.”

“Thank you for that,” Harry said.

“You really cut that dragon apart,” Goyle said.

“Yeah.” Blaise smiled though it did not reach his eyes. “So Commander, you think that's the
last dragon you're going to kill in this tournament?”

Harry remembered the glowing, red eyes following him around the castle. It would be best if
there were no other dragons to face in the tournament. They were monstrous creatures. Surely, there
could be no worse?

Harry put on a false smile on his face as well. “I don't expect there to be any more.”

“Are there any more leads on the Second Task?” Draco asked.

“Diggory has the egg right now. There's supposed to be some sort of clue within the egg, but
every time we open it, it just lets out this terrible screech.”

“So that's what that is. All this time, I thought Diggory's balls had finally dropped.”
Blaise's joke drew a couple chuckles.

Harry tried not to show his displeasure at the joke. It would not sit well with the other
Slytherins if he defended the Hufflepuff champion, but Harry couldn't help but remember Cedric
plucking him from the ground and his skill at flying the broom. He made a mental note to check in
with Finch-Fletchley. He would have no more use of Justin's sleuthing. Cedric Diggory had
proved his worth.

“Thankfully, we have some time. The Second Task isn't for another three months and I should
be good to go by then.” His knee throbbed again to remind him.

“That's good. Maybe we can focus on getting some more wins in Battle class, too,” Blaise
said. Harry bit his tongue again. *Since when were you so concerned about Battle class?*

“We will. Double practices this week.”

The smiles and geniality dropped instantly. He had not put them through double practices since
the beginning of the year. If Blaise wanted to humor him, then Harry would humor them all. At least
they would then know that they stand united for each other's actions. Harry dismissed them
after that and they fled without another word. The Common Room was cold again, the fire in the
hearth dying away as the cold breeze of the dungeons lowered the temperature considerably.

Harry pushed himself up with the cane in his right hand and his wand in his left. He stood in
front of the fireplace, savoring the last morsels of warmth. Above the hearth was a large tapestry
of the Slytherin emblem. The snake looked down upon him, green jewels where the eyes would be.

*Cunning. Ambition. Resourcefulness.* That's what the Sorting Hat had said to him when
he was placed within Slytherin. It seemed to him that for every cunning Slytherin, there was a
Goyle or a Millicent. Hard people, but no one would ever call them cunning or ambitious. How was
it, then, that all of the Dark Lords Harry had studied were in Slytherin? Harry had planned to
rebel against Snape and his contraptions, but he could not do it alone. Yet, if he couldn't
trust his own House mates, who could he trust? He fingered the special Sickle in his pocket.

Harry retreated to the dormitories when the fire died. He took the necessary potions and slid
into bed, listening to the snores. His green eyes were wide open as he looked upon the canopy of
the bed. There was a shuffling and someone walked around the dormitory. Harry reached for his wand
underneath his pillow and held it to his chest. His right knee ached. The movement suddenly stopped
as a bed creaked. Harry relaxed, his back loosening.

Pointing his wand at the drapes surrounding his bed, Harry whispered, *“Colloportus.”*

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

“So he survives the beasts.”

“He did more than *survive.* It is not the same as killing a person, but he made the
decision to kill the dragon.”

“It is still no easy thing to slay a dragon. Perhaps, we don't have to go through the
process of having him kill.”

“You old fool. There will be a day of reckoning. Do not pretend to be that ignorant.”

“I do not confess to ignorance. I am pleased, however, that the boy performed admirably.
Wandless magic at such an age…”

“Not even you could confess to that skill. His powers are growing immensely. Indeed, I have
sensed a sharp increase in his magical power since his arrival this year. Perhaps you were right
that their magic exponentially grew within their teenage years.”

“His magic should continue to mature, but I, too, did not expect such prowess. It was only a
Cutting Charm and a Levitation Charm, but it was still a great feat of wandless magic.”

“Yes. I had hoped that something as base as a dragon would not be the thing that defeats the
boy.”

“No. That was just the First Task after all. Have you begun preparations on the
second?”

“I convened with Maxime, Karakoff, and that oaf, Bagman, to start preparing the Second Task.
There will be trials before then. You heard the Beauxbatons girl. More enemies come to knock the
boy out of the tournament.”

“Did the house elves reveal anything about the identity of these people?”

“I can have the elves follow the boy almost anywhere, but it is a different matter to ask them
to infiltrate the carriages of Beauxbatons or that ship of Durmstrang. They have their own magic
and as much as I would love to vex both of them, I can not send the elves in there.”

“Then we know as much of these plotters as the boy does.”

“We will have eyes on him. If nothing else, it will prove to be another burden we can place upon
him. It is one thing to compel the Hufflepuff to attack the boy. It is another to see what someone
can do out of their own accord.”

“I hope he can handle this. Older students trying to knock him out of the tournament. The
tournament itself. Battle class. The lessons. He is straining to hold it all together.”

“Then he will have to learn to delegate where he can and adopt strategies for each of his
troubles. He will have to be successful outside of the battlefield as well. When he takes command,
he will have to trudge through the waste that is the Ministry.”

“Our friends there bring grave words. Last night, I received an owl of troublesome news.”

“On with it.”

“The old families have been contacted. It is of my opinion that Pettigrew is the one visiting
them.


“The dog will enjoy that.”

“He will have to wait for his vengeance.”

“Who has little Pettigrew contacted?”

“Nott. Parkinson. Goyle. Crabbe. Flint. Greengrass. The major Pureblood families save for
Malfoy, who will no doubt be the target of a prison break. That was just in one week and there will
be more. They could not tell us what was discussed, but Tom is on the move again. He is
preparing.”

“At last, he makes his move. Yet, those families would not dare strike against us as long as we
hold their sons and daughters hostage at this school.”

“Yes...the Yule Ball will keep the important ones for the winter holidays. But once summer
comes…”

“I do not think the Dark Lord will be that patient. He is testing the air, trying to see what
support he can gather. Is the Ministry prepared to have these families followed?”

“Some. To what capacity, we do not know. Our forces have dwindled in the hunt for the Horcruxes.
They have destroyed the cup but it cost lives again. Even now, there are those in the Wizengamot
aware that something is amiss within the Ministry. They do not know what we are planning, but they
know they are being watched. They will be careful.”

“We must make sure that the Dark Lord can not marshal the same support. The families will be
reluctant to be burned by their master again. He will have to show his face in order to gain
validity. That is when we strike with the boy leading the charge.”

“Yes...the progress he has shown this year By the school year's end, he should be ready
enough…”

“I have checked the map again to make sure I did not see another...anomaly.”

“Do you think your eyes were playing tricks on you?”

“They might have been, but that inspires no confidence from me. I had the elves follow the
teachers to ensure their identities. They have been verified. It still does not sit well with me,
but it might have been a trick of light that I saw that name.”

“I will check with Black to see just how accurate their map is. From the magic I detect, I do
not see how it could give a false positive.”

“I have kept a vigilant watch over it. The name has not arisen again.”

“Good. I also don't believe that is something he would do.”

“Nonetheless, I will keep watch. On other matters, have you heard from the American?”

“He dropped a coded post this week. Former Death Eaters are gathering. Underlings but Death
Eaters all the same. They all speak of the same things. Tom has returned, but they can not say
where. Tom will strike, but they can not say where. One group will say something that another
contradicts. Even the Death Eaters are being misinformed.”

“The Dark Lord is being cautious. He might be a shell of his self, but he still has mind.”

“No need to lecture me on Tom's brilliance. I have been witness to it.”

“Of course, how can we ever forget?”

“You are so keen to remind me. I remember once when you respected me.”

“That was before I learned that the Dark Lord was not the only one to create a Horcrux.”

* * * * * * * * * * *

**A/N: Projected update time: 28 days**
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38. Making Moves
----------------



Hermione dreamt of a beautiful girl writhing in bed. The girl had long, shimmering hair. Her
back arched and her mouth opened in endless ecstasy. Her face was always indistinguishable, a
shadow within the shadows. Her naked body twisted like a snake, curling and folding within itself.
Then, Hermione was above the beautiful girl. She was looking down at her, but Hermione's hands
were stronger than usual. There was hair on her forearms. The beautiful girl groaned again, her
mouth beckoning as Hermione leaned down...

When Hermione awoke, it was still dark. Quiet snores filled the room. The covers had been thrown
off her body, strewn in a pile at her feet. She rubbed two fingers along her brow, trying to
silence the echoes of the moaning girl in her dreams. Running a hand through her hair, Hermione
froze when she came to the last frays just above her neck. She ran her hand through her short cut
again, trying to convince herself that this was also a dream.

When Pomfrey had told her that it would be better to cut her hair, Hermione thought it would
just be a few shears off the end. Little did she know that her bushy mane had been burnt in several
places. It came short around her ears. The fire had even given the tips of her ears a pink shade.
Hermione had cried when she looked in the mirror. No one had witnessed the tears falling from her
cheeks. She didn't even know why she was crying. She had been growing that bushy mane since she
was nine. In truth, it did not particularly flatter her. It was an enormous hassle in Battle class
and did not bend to her will no matter what products she used.

*But it was mine.*

Hermione sat up, deciding to get up for the day. She wiped a tear from her eye. A moment passed
as Hermione collected herself. Once the drapes were open, no tears would be shed. Everyone was
still asleep as she drew the drapes of the four-poster bed back. Lavender was to her right, the
bedside table littered with potions and half-completed homework. Parvati Patil continued the
circular orientation of the room. Fay Dunbar slept directly across from Hermione. Rionach
O'Neal's bed was to Hermione's left though Hermione sometimes forgot the girl was
there. Rionach was as quiet as a mouse.

After quickly making up her bed, Hermione entered the bathroom. As she stripped off her clothes,
her eyes caught the mirror. She stood in front of the mirror and examined herself. Her hair stopped
just above her neck in a messy bob. It was neither straight nor curly. She couldn't part it to
one side so it ended up being a springy carpet on her head. Baby fat was still on her cheeks, her
chin soft and rounded. To call her skin fair would be a lie. It was a pale, sickly color. Her
breasts were small, unlike Lavender's growing chest. The rest of her body was unshaped dough,
her hips round and her legs undefined.

“You should get in the shower, dear,” said the mirror.

“I've never had a mirror patronize me. What else do you have to say?” Hermione said. The
mirror did not speak again.

Breakfast could be prepared as early as four in the morning. Hermione had once arrived at the
Great Hall that early during her Second Year in order to study for a Potions exam. It was not quite
that early when Hermione left the Gryffindor Common Room. There was a shade of orange on the
windows as the sun broke over the horizon. It must have still been early as the halls echoed with
only her footsteps. The Fat Lady was still asleep when Hermione departed. The base of the
Gryffindor tower was on the seventh floor. Hermione took the spiral staircase down to the fifth
floor and from there, the moving staircases to the bottom floor. The first time Hermione had gone
alone from the Gryffindor common room, she had ended up near the greenhouses when she should have
been in the dungeons.

It only took Hermione two days to memorize routes to each classroom and alternate routes should
the staircases not cooperate that day. She still had the diagrams and sketchings of Hogwarts and
the various classrooms but memory had long rendered them useless. Hermione was at the top of the
main atrium facing the double doored entrance of Hogwarts when she spotted Viktor Krum entering. He
leaned against the wood-paneled door to open it. Though the doors stood at least twenty five feet
tall, Krum seemed to occupy most of it. He wore a sleeveless shirt. His shoulders were massive
bulges, skin tight against his muscles. Even from afar, Hermione could see the veins running
through his temples. His legs were tree trunks, thick and wide in the thighs. Krum looked up. His
eyes were dark and angry.

*Gigantism? Half-giant?*

No, he could not be. Madame Maxime was a half-giant and Krum only came to her shoulder. He had
to be about six foot and six inches. Four other Durmstrang students followed him inside Hogwarts.
While they weren't as tall as Krum, they were easily bigger than almost all of the students at
Hogwarts. Each of them were wide across the chest with muscles abound. Hermione tried to remember
who they were.

The girl was Alexandra Petrov. Hermione was sure of that. Alexandra had a square face. Her brow
was constantly drawn tight as if she were concentrating on something particularly difficult. Silky,
black hair was drawn in a ponytail that fell almost to her hip. She had an uninteresting face. One
that was easy to forget. One of the other boys was Anton Velick. He was more lithe than blocky. His
hair was a dirty blond, longer than Krum's short crop. His nose was crooked and there was a
scar extending from underneath his right ear to the point of his jaw, but Anton was handsome in his
own way. His green eyes reminded her of Harry, but his was a pale leaf as opposed to Harry's
forest green orbs.

Krum brushed by her without a word as they walked up the main staircase. Alexandra Petrov's
eyes passed over her, but Anton Velick stopped short. The others passed. Krum spared a glance
backwards but said nothing. Did he ever speak?

“Hello, how are you?” Anton had a thick accent, his words sounding slurred.

Up close, Hermione saw his pale green eyes were not warm or inviting. They were cold and harsh
like Durmstrang. When he smiled with his crooked teeth, it seemed genuine, but there was something
amiss about it. She stepped away from him, stumbling on the varied steps. Anton laughed, a low
chuckle that terrified her. He did not need to say anything else. *This one is dangerous.*

Hermione thought of running away. *Do not fear those who want to scare you, Hermione.
You're smarter than that.* That was what her mother would have said.

*Leave the past in the past,* Hermione thought. She banished any thoughts of her mother and
cleared her mind.

“I'm just fine. If you will excuse me,” she said.

Hermione felt his eyes following her but did not look back. *Leave the past in the
past.*

Breakfast was toast with a side of fresh fruits. The Great Hall was hardly filled, only a few
students here and there. Most of them were older. The Slytherin table was fairly empty save for one
or two people. A smatter of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs filled the rest of the tables and there were
three pretty Beauxbatons girls at the extra table. An owl soared through the open windows in the
rafters and descended in a wide circle. It hooted as it dropped the Daily Prophet besides Hermione.
She picked it up, chewing on a piece of toast as she read the headline.

*The Dragonkiller.*

Hermione winced at the headline as she read the rubbish. The writer, Aristophanes, went to great
lengths to portray the dragon's violent end. *A metal spear skewered the dragon through the
neck, an ugly end to a beautiful creature*, Aristophanes wrote. Never mind that she made no
mention of how the dragons tried to burn them alive at every turn. *Potter, like many of his
Hogwarts compatriots, chose the bloodiest solution.* The piece was tainted from the very
beginning.

“Journalism,” Hermione said derisively.

As she read on, Hermione found the other pieces no less friendly. She read the Daily Prophet
daily and was no stranger to their anti-Hogwarts tendencies. Still, one would think that they would
support their home school in this Tournament of Champions. Aristophanes was the worst of them, a
clever and cruel writer that needed only a paragraph to decimate subjects. She would use just a
kernel of truth and warp it to confuse the simpletons who consumed her words greedily. Hermione
read on.

*In the end, it was the unlikely duo of Cedric Diggory and Hermione Granger who stopped the
Chinese Fireball from killing Harry Potter. Diggory, the golden boy of Hufflepuff, summoned a wall
of water to douse the dragon's flames. It was strange that Granger, an unlikely and
undermatched competitor, stood beside him in the end.*

Hermione snapped the paper shut and had an itch to cast *Incendio* on it. She tried not to
show too much emotion visibly. They were always watching. Inside, she burned red hot. Hermione ran
a hand through her bushy tresses, pulling tightly at the short ends on the nape of her neck. She
did not want to read any more of this rubbish, but she forced herself to. *You will never learn
anything if you choose to ignore what you don't like*, her mother had said.

*Leave the past in the past.* Hermione banished any thoughts of her parents.

There were other articles. Small stories about the increase of illegal activity in the black
markets of Eastern Europe. Personal pieces about English Quidditch team and their disappointing
performance in the most recent World Cup. Back page trash regarding the illicit affairs of Minister
Fudge. Most of it was nothing of interest save for the three page spread on the Tournament of
Champions. A picture of Fleur spanned half a page. The blonde girl winked salaciously at the
camera. Hermione wrinkled her nose. Folding the paper carefully, she put it down.

After breakfast, she had half a mind to go to Trow's classroom to review some tapes but
found the need wanting. There were other things to address first. The library was on the fourth
floor of Hogwarts. Little else was on the fourth floor as the sheer size of the library occupied
most of the space. It was empty so early in the morning. On most days, save for the day or two
between midterms and final exams, the library was scarcely filled. Madame Pince hardly said a word
or raised her head when Hermione walked inside. The Gryffindor girl was a regular.

Hermione took her time choosing the books she wanted to read. *Interpreting Dreams* was in
the Divination section. Hermione loathed that area, but they had the most books concerning dreams.
*The Blood of Creatures* was a large tome that contained a wealth of information on magical
creatures, including Veelas. *A Study of Schools* was an encyclopedia of the different magical
schools in the world. There would be a section on Durmstrang. Last, she picked out *What is
Occlumency.* It was the most comprehensive book about Occlumency. Still, it was short. Whereas
other books on particular subjects would span near four to five hundred pages, *What is
Occlumency* was a scant one hundred and fifty pages. Hermione had read all of it already, but
wanted to reread the narrow booklet lest she missed something on her first read.

She settled down in the back corner near the windows. The sun was more orange than red as it
broke over the horizon, so Hermione pulled the curtain to give her some shade from the blinding
light. Laying the books on top of each other, Hermione first opened *The Blood of
Creatures.*

Hermione already knew their powers of seduction. They seemingly affected both genders, but a
near genocide of the male Veela during the burnings of the early sixteenth century left very few of
them alive. Muggles burned them as they were easily recognized by their shimmering hair. There were
few male Veela alive and those that remained were hidden away from the rest of the wizarding and
Muggle world. There were even small colonies of full-blooded Veela that did not mingle with the
outside world.

*The Blood of Creatures* only slightly delved into their history. Hermione gave it a quick
scan, but it was not what she wanted. She skimmed a finger along the page until the words came to
her. *Characteristics and Tendencies.* Veela had their own inherent magical properties.
Theorists did not agree on the source, but there were two schools of thought. The first was that
Veela were constantly emitting low-energy magic. Similar to other magical creatures, the Veela
magic was always active. The other theory was that a combination of sound and smell attracted the
opposite gender.

When enraged, Veela also transformed into a creature that resembled a harpy. The further she
read, the more Hermione found the theories in disagreement. All concluded that the amorous nature
of the Veela was key to understanding them. Most agreed that a certain bond was formed when one
engaged in sexual activities with the Veela. They disagreed on what exactly the *bond* was.
Some theorized that the bond would not allow the human partner to harm the Veela. Others thought
that it was akin to some form of telepathy with them. It was rare to get a first hand account as
those who slept with the Veela rarely put their thoughts to the scroll again.

“Hermione?”

The Gryffindor girl surreptitiously slid *A Study of Schools* over *The Blood of
Creatures.* She could feel her face burning. Her mind had been lost in the text. Hermione
shouldn't have been embarrassed, but something about reading sex magic shamed her. Looking up,
she found Cedric Diggory approaching the table.

“Pince said I'd find you back here. I thought I saw you at the Great Hall, but you got away
and no one else knew except for Neville. Nobody else is awake yet and I couldn't wait,” Cedric
said in a rush.

He was a handsome man. Cedric had a strong jaw and a slight bristle on his cheeks. His gray eyes
were bright. His wide smile filled the room. He had a cheerful demeanor but also took his
responsibilities seriously. Cedric was unlike Fred or George, who thought everything was a joke. He
looked around surreptitiously before retrieving something from his bag.

“I cracked it.” Cedric tapped the egg for emphasis.

Hermione internally chuckled at the pun but kept her face passive.

“How so?” she asked.

“When it was my turn to try and crack the egg, I felt like I couldn't leave it anywhere. I
had an inkling for a bath and...well...I knew the password to the Prefect's bathroom. I
didn't know what else to do so I took the egg with me. I was in the bathroom alone and...uh...I
was fully disrobed…”

Cedric stammered but smiled at her all the same. She fought down the blush.

“I heard someone coming in through the portrait and kicked the egg into the tub. I panicked and
dove in after it. As soon as I went underwater, I could *hear* it,” Cedric explained.

Hermione remembered how the egg screeched when the Hogwarts champions tried to open it the first
time. The sound was high pitched and inhuman. It did not take her long to put together the pieces
of the puzzle.

“Mermaids,” she murmured.

Cedric shook his head bemusedly at her. “You ruined my reveal.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and indicated that he should go on.

“I wrote down the song. I had to test my lungs underwater to listen to what they said, but I got
it down. Excuse me if I don't sing it.”

“Excused,” she said.

Cedric pulled out another parchment. He cleared his throat as he repeated the words that were
written.

*You will not hear the songs we sing.*

*Underneath you'll never win.*

*Up on top you'll search to find.*

*The ones who come first in your mind.*

*Be careful do not fear the cold.*

*To win the heroes must be bold.*

*Take your time watch where you walk.*

*One false step sink like a rock.*

Hermione sat back as she absorbed the various rhymes. There were multiple meanings to what each
line meant. The first two lines had to mean they would not be fighting underwater. Cedric could
only hear the song underwater and the first line could not be any more clear. The second line only
further reinforced her theory. But why have the mermaids sing the song if they would encounter
them? Furthermore, what did *up on top* mean? Did they mean for them to fight on land again?
Who exactly would they be searching for? *The ones who come first in your mind* indicated the
possibility that there would be outside targets.

“Cryptic, isn't it?” Cedric said.

*No. The song isn't cryptic. It is a puzzle. There is a definite message. The error would
come in our interpretation.*

Hermione wondered how much she could share with the Hufflepuff star. He had come to her for help
with the egg, true enough. Was it because there were no other options? He had said as much. There
were worse options.

“I don't think they mean for us to fight underwater,” Hermione said.

He nodded. “I gathered as much. The rest though…”

Do not fear the cold. Sink like a rock. It made little sense. What would they be searching for?
They had not participated in other scenarios besides total elimination in Battle class. The older
students were probably familiar with Battle classes that involved more than just eliminating the
other House or Houses. Their experience would be valuable. Hermione committed the song to
memory.

“I mean to call another meeting. The rest should know,” Cedric said.

Hermione nodded. She looked outside through the long and narrow windows of the library. The sun
was hiding behind the clouds. The gray sky muted the color in the air. The lake was placid, barely
a ripple or a wave disturbing it. What did the riddle mean?

“Do you think the other two schools know?” Cedric asked.

“If they don't, they'll discover it soon. I saw some of the Durmstrang students this
morning. One of them stopped me,” she said.

“Krum?”

“No. Another one.” Hermione remembered Anton Velick and his pale green eyes.

“I would have fancied facing Krum underwater. For a Seeker, he's quite different. Most
Seekers are nimble. Krum is a monster. That advantage would have been useless for him underwater,”
Cedric said wistfully.

“Nothing we can worry about now,” she said. The song repeated in her head as she tried to
interpret the meaning.

“The heroes must be bold,” Cedric repeated. “I hope they don't think we're going to
become the heroes of old. Viven the Victorious. Gallant Godfrey. The Magnificent Mikel.”

*He knows his history,* Hermione thought. She tried hard not to show that she was
impressed.

*The heroes must me bold.*

Hermione thought of the article written by Aristophanes. She was nothing more than an
afterthought. The main crux of the Hogwarts piece was Harry. Though he performed well against the
dragons, Hermione could not shake the feeling of melancholy when she looked at him. There was a
burden on his shoulders. A heaviness in the way Harry walked. She did not know what plans Cedric
had for Harry, but the lone Slytherin representative was already winning his detractors within
Hogwarts. More would be asked of him. Hermione wondered how much more he could handle.

*Bold I must be as well.*

* * * * * * * * *

Harry watched as the Black and Silver group clashed in the Room of Requirements. Slytherin had
their designated practice time and Harry wanted to put them through some one-on-one duels. He
thought of changing their names. They didn't really make much sense now that he thought about
it. Something more alphabetical would have been preferable.

*Maybe later,* Harry thought. *Too much to worry about now.*

*“**Homenum Revelio.”*

Harry paced as he said the spell over and over. “Say it wherever you go. The spell is pretty low
energy so it won't tire you out. We've used it enough so that people are going to try to
use it against us. If we're in attack mode and not trying to use stealth, keep using it so you
don't walk yourself into a trap. Remember, it only works on those who magically hide
themselves. Don't think you're going to find everyone just by saying that spell.”

He paced around them, ignoring the others observing their practice. Harry never revealed too
much during their public training sessions. He mostly had them dueling against each other. The
nature of their spells wouldn't matter too much. Almost everyone had the same access to spells.
It was just how they used them.

They were much improved in their individual groups. Black group still spearheaded most of his
attacks. Draco's improved leadership gave Black a lot of autonomy. Tracey and Pansy served in
their support roles well and Harry found himself relying on this group the most. Silver would never
lead the line, but they were excellent in running diversions and countering enemies. Nott and
Baldock, in particular, were adept at creating illusions and setting traps. Vicious area trigger
spells that would swallow their enemies in ropes and vines. Neither Nott or Baldock had replicated
the body double spell that Hermione was so skillful at, but they were practicing and would learn in
time.

Green group was still...a work in progress. Blaise, Goyle, and Bulstrode were a competent
blocking force themselves and regularly led the line when it came to actual confrontations. Their
improvised ability as human shields had caught on slightly with other Houses, but few were as big
and strong as Goyle and Bulstrode. They could withstand spell after spell on their shields since
they concentrated all of their efforts into it.

Black and Silver were currently dueling each other while Green watched. Blaise broke off from
Gregory and Millicent to talk to Harry. Standing beside him, Blaise said, “Do you see who's
watching?”

Harry had taken stock of who was there. A variety of older students from different Houses were
idly watching. Susan Bones was in attendance as well as Padma Patil. Finally, Karim Tireur and two
other Beauxbatons girls were watching from behind the magical barrier. Harry did not spare him a
glance. He stood with his arms crossed as Tracey dispatched Baldock with an accurate Stunner.

“What about them?” Harry asked.

Blaise cleared his throat and sidled closer. “I've been noticing that the Beauxbatons boy
has been keen to keep his eyes on you. Do you think he's up to something?”

*Certainly.*

“Nothing we're showing here would change what happens in the tournament. He's free to
watch,” Harry said. *I also rarely duel myself.*

“You want me to keep an eye on him? I can get some of the First and Second Years to do so,”
Blaise offered.

Harry considered the offer. It would be no different than having those First and Second Years
monitor the Hufflepuff movements last year, but he felt uncomfortable the more he thought about it.
The Hufflepuffs had caught Blaise's little spies. If Karim or any of the other Beauxbatons
students discovered some Hogwarts students tailing them, what would that mean for the rest of the
Hogwarts champions? Would they be punished? Would points be deducted from the tournament? Harry
squirmed internally but kept a calm outer visage.

“No,” Harry finally answered.

Blaise drew his lips in a tight line but nodded. After a moment's pause, he also said, “I
also had some ideas of what we could do with Goyle and Bulstrode…”

He continued to speak, but Harry was distracted the warmth in his pocket. He fingered the
special coin in his pocket and pulled it out. There was a message inscribed in the Sickle:
*Champions meeting. Same place. Six.*

“What do you think?” Blaise asked.

Harry had missed most of his pitch. Sighing, he shook his head. “I missed what you said. Come to
me later with that plan and we can discuss it again. There's other things I have to attend
to.”

Blaise fixed him with a stare and Harry met his eyes. There was a coldness in Blaise's brown
orbs. Harry had half a mind to probe him with a *Legilimens*. Since his meetings with Hermione
had fallen in frequency, there was little reason to use Legilimency or Occlumency. Harry did not
want to become rusty.

“Yes, Com,” Blaise said.

Harry grunted in response and called out to Tracey and Draco to finish the practice with two
more duels. He left the pair in charge and marched towards the Astronomy tower. Hermione had given
him late notice. He hadn't seen her throughout the day. Karim's eyes continued to follow
him as he exited the Room of Requirement. He was finally alone in the hallways and walked quickly.
His legs stretched as he climbed the spiraling staircase towards the top of the narrow tower. He
opened the wooden door and found the rest of the champions waiting. They were making a habit of him
entering last.

“Harry,” Cedric said as he stood up to make room. There was barely enough room for Harry to
squeeze by the Hufflepuff and settle into a seat between Hermione and Roger. The older Ravenclaw
subtly leaned away as Harry took his seat. He was fine with that. Harry still remembered Roger
neglecting to do anything as Marietta bullied Luna.

“Two shorter, but we will still manage. We also ran into a bit of luck. I've discovered what
the egg says.” Cedric unrolled a parchment and recited the song that sprung from the egg.

After he finished, Cedric asked, “So, any ideas to start?”

*Do the other schools know?*

Information was vastly important in the battlefield. Those who gained the most information
regularly had the advantage. It would not take long for the other schools to discover how to unlock
the key to hearing the song. Interpreting the information would also be vitally important. There
were clues within the song. Harry was sure that he could put his mind to the task, but with
Hermione on hand, he had no doubt they would have an interpretation soon. There were other things
on his mind.

Roger, Cho, and Marietta were the first time to chime in, hypothesizing various ideas. Roger
thought that there was a chance they would be fighting in the woods, agreeing that they were
unlikely to be under water. Marietta was certain there would be traps involved based on the last
line. Cho kept murmuring one line over and over: *The ones who come first in your mind.*

“It seems to me that we're actually going to be fighting against Beauxbatons and
Durmstrang,” George said.

“They didn't mention any dragons or creatures. We're obviously going to be searching for
something,” Fred said.

“That doesn't necessarily mean we'll be against the other Houses. We could easily be
searching for an item and will be timed for our search. *Watch where you walk. Do not fear the
cold.* These are lines that make it clear we're going to be in dangerous environment,”
Hermione argued.

They continued back and forth for half an hour. Harry declined to comment freely. Personally,
Hermione seemed to have the most accurate interpretation. She theorized they would be searching for
an item at the same time as the other schools. Historically, the Second Task involved pitting the
competitors against each other. Harry was amused to find the discussion became heated as they
traded arguments. His mind was wandering, knowing he had another lesson with Trow and Lupin later
that night.

“Take a break on it, everyone,” Cedric finally said. “Make sure to write down the song and we
can reconvene in a couple days. There's still plenty of time before the Second Task, but I
wanted to get ahead of this. The sooner we know, the sooner we can prepare. For Merlin's sake,
don't tell *anyone.* We all have friends. As much as we believe that we can trust them,
someone will talk. Do not tell *anyone.*”

Hermione leaned over and whispered something to Cedric. The older Hufflepuff boy shook his head
after a moment. Harry was aware that he was not the only one to see the interaction. Cedric stood
up and dismissed the rest of them. Slowly, they filed out. Harry gathered his belongings and left
without saying another word. These meetings were mostly a waste of time.

“Harry.”

He expected Hermione to follow him, but knew by the masculine voice that it was not the
argumentative Gryffindor. There was still some time before his lessons with Trow and Lupin, so
Harry paused in the middle of the hallway. Cedric came to a stop in front of him and looked around
surreptitiously.

“You've had classes with Hermione, right? You're both Fourth Years,” Cedric said
quietly.

Harry nodded, unsure as to where this was going.

“Do you know what she's like?” he asked, almost embarassed.

“What do you mean?”

Cedric shrugged and looked around again. “I mean...does she have a boyfriend? Do you know if
there's someone she's interested in?”

Harry almost burst out laughing. Of all the things he expected Cedric to query him about,
Hermione's love life was not one of them. There was a strange feeling in his stomach and he
couldn't help the smile that broke out on his face.

“She's in Gryffindor. You know we don't get along with Gryffindors, right? It's not
like we talk about that kind of stuff,” Harry said

“Yeah, but you're in the same Year. Surely, you would've heard some sort of rumor?”

Harry considered the question and responded with one of his own. “Why do you want to know?”

Cedric scanned the area again. “Between you and me, I'm thinking of asking her to the Yule
Ball.”

This time, Harry did burst out laughing. He couldn't say why, but the idea amused him to no
end. Hermione Granger? Dancing at the Yule Ball? He felt sorry for the poor boy. She would say no
in a heartbeat.

“To my knowledge, I don't think she has a boyfriend nor do I know if she's
*interested* in anyone,” Harry said.

“Good. Cheers, mate.” Cedric smiled, apparently satisfied, and slapped Harry on the back.

When Lupin and Trow asked why Harry was smiling, he dismissed it by saying he had a good day. He
couldn't help the smile that crept to himself every now and then as he thought of Cedric asking
Hermione to the Yule Ball. From what Harry knew of her, she couldn't possibly be
interested.

* * * * * * * * * *

Blaise Zabini watched as Professor Moody paced in front of the class. He was growling about the
necessity of discipline, his wooden leg smacking against the ground every other second. Blaise sat
in the back and listened disinterestedly. In front of him, Ernie MacMillan sat forward, his quill
scratching furiously as he took down an excessive amount of notes. Padma Patil, Parvati Patil,
Megan Jones, and Anthony Goldstein sat in the front row. Beside him, Seamus Finnigan fidgeted in
his seat.

“Discipline must be ingrained within. If you give an order, they must follow without hesitation.
It restrains the showboats. It keeps the cowards from folding. Don't think that just because
you have a group of trained wizards means that every one of them is the same. There will be some
braver than others. There will be others that hesitate when you tell them to attack. It is your job
to make sure they - ZABINI!”

Sitting up straight, Blaise steeled himself for another lecture. He had been the target of
Moody's ire for the majority of the semester. The ex-Auror stomped through the aisle of desks
until he was looming over the Slytherin. His blue eye was spinning but his natural eye remained
fixed on Blaise.

“Why they decided to put you in this class is beyond me,” Moody snarled. “If ever there was
someone who was unfit to lead others into battle, it would be you, Zabini.”

“Charisma can go a long way,” Blaise responded.

“If you put that smart ass mouth to use for something other than blatant disregard for
authority, you might be something. Tell me, Zabini. What happens when you're about to enter a
house full of Death Eaters and they look to you for orders? Where will your *charisma* take
you then?””

*Away from that house,* Blaise wanted to say. He didn't like the way Moody was leaning
over his desk so he opted for a more suitable answer. “Make sure to set up Anti-Apparition wards to
pen the Death Eaters in. Everything else would depend on how many allies I have and the quality of
the enemies within.”

Moody's face twitched, the many scars moving as one. “Smart ass has an answer. You have
seven below average Aurors. Bellatrix Lestrange, Antonin Dolohov, and the Carrow siblings are
inside. What do you do then?”

Blaise knew all of those names. Perhaps subconsciously, Moody had listed them in order of most
dangerous to least.

“How many stories is the house?” Blaise asked.

“Two.”

Blaise nodded, formulating a plan in his head. “Do I have any mission parameters?”

Moody's magical eye twitched. “Capture Lestrange. Kill or capture all others.”

It was cheating, but it was the easiest plan. “Bring the house down. Unless they have some crazy
wards on it, the house should come down.”

“And Lestrange?” Moody asked.

Blaise shrugged. “She lives or she doesn't. Better to play it safe. I'm not going to
storm the house with seven *below average* Aurors against Lestrange.”

Moody snarled, “You broke your mission parameters.”

Blaise shrugged again. He wanted to add a smarmy remark, but it was a dangerous line to rile up
the former Auror. Flitwick, maybe. Slughorn, definitely. McGonagall, never. There were people that
could be pushed and people that couldn't. Moody fell into the latter. Blaise had already gotten
bored of the exercise.

*I would never find myself in a situation where I have to confront Lestrange of all
people,* Blaise thought.

“Get up,” Moody said.

“What?”

“Up,” Moody hissed. He brought his staff up and down. Blaise felt an invisible force tug at his
navel and bring him to his feet. Grumbling, Blaise walked to the front of the classroom. He felt
the rest of the students watching him. He tried to portray a sense of boredom as he slinked to the
front of the classroom. Moody's magical eye spun around the classroom until it settled on Padma
Patil.

“Levitate her.” Moody pointed his deformed chin at Padma.

A moment's hesitation almost betrayed his bored persona. He could say no. The option was
there, but the punishment would be severe. Blaise did not have time, not tonight, to waste. He
didn't bother giving Padma an apologetic glance. It was Moody's order, after all.
Concentrating on Padma's chair, he levitated the object and the person. Padma's eyes
widened as she gripped the sides of her chair. Her brown hands gripped the sides so tightly that
her knuckles turned white.

“If you drop her before class ends, you will both receive detention,” Moody said.

Padma's mouth opened immediately. “Professor! I didn't do anything.”

“And there will be times when you will have to absorb the punishment of your peers or your
charges. Get used to shouldering the blame,” Moody said.

Blaise tried not to panic. He could not afford detention tonight. All of his efforts were poured
into this Levitation charm. Concentration was always key to maintaining spells. A slip of the mind
and he would drop her. Moody droned on about shouldering the blame and understanding to accept
responsibility. All Blaise could think about was keeping the chair afloat. It wobbled, now and
then. Padma would glare at him when it did. She did not speak aloud, but he knew what curses she
was saying under her breath.

The bell finally rang after twenty minutes of levitating Padma Patil. Blaise unceremoniously
dropped her. Parvati must have predicted his release as she cast a Cushioning charm as the chair
broke apart. Padma glared at him evilly as she walked out. The rest of the class did not look too
impressed either. Blaise did his best to disregard them, wiping the sweat off his brow without
meeting their eyes. He dusted down his fifty-two Galleon robes.

“Get out, Zabini. I don't want you infecting my class any longer,” Moody growled.

Blaise was glad to leave.

He still did not understand why they placed him Leadership. The class was detestable and Moody
was far worse than he was in Dueling. The classroom was on the fifth floor, so there was a long way
down to the Slytherin Common Room. Blaise had to walk the same way as the Patil twins. As he passed
by, Blaise quipped, “Nice catch, Parvati.”

Both twins glared at him. “Why didn't you just keep answering him?” Padma asked.

“You can't give in to Moody. He just wants to steamroll you.”

“He wants to teach us,” Parvati said.

Blaise clucked his tongue and grinned at the pair. “I'm afraid I don't have much to
learn from the poor sod. You should be thanking me. I kept you up, didn't I?”

They had nothing to say to that.

He left the swiveling sisters. Hopping over a moving staircase, Blaise descended to the
dungeons. Leadership had been completely unfruitful and Moody hated him more and more with each
passing day. There were times when Blaise felt that magical eye never moved from him. How far could
that eye see?

“Fucking pervert,” Blaise muttered, thinking about the ex-Auror.

Here and there, a Beauxbatons or a Durmstrang student would pass by. Blaise would inspect each
of them closely but subtly. He had come to learn their names and stories. No one knew much about
the Durmstrang students. They were a quiet bunch, rarely straying from the pack. They had to be
drawn into conversations and most were intimidated by their sheer size. Some bravely ventured to
speak to Krum, but the large Bulgarian would always grant and walk away.

There were stories that they practiced the Dark Arts, but Blaise knew better. They didn't
talk to the Hogwarts students and that made them mysterious. The sheep always feared the
mysterious, in his opinion. When he inquired about some of the others like Anton Velick, the
Seventh Year with the scar, or Stillyan Dobovich, the Sixth Year that would not stop bleeding from
the eye, Blaise learned nothing. His little First and Second Year spies said they dismissed the
very sight of the little runts.

Not that it mattered too much to Blaise.

He was a naturally inquisitive person and generally wanted to learn more about the mysterious
school. Yet, he wouldn't make the mistake of trying to push it. If Durmstrang had secrets to
keep, Blaise was not going to try and pry them loose. Not yet, anyway. There were far more pressing
matters at hand. As Blaise entered the Common Room, he spotted Tracey sitting by the fire with
Draco. The pair was frequently seen together these days and Blaise never passed up an opportunity
to tease her mercilessly about it.

“You two always take the cozy spots by the couch,” Blaise said as he approached them.

She looked up, her curly hair falling across her azure eyes. Draco kept his head buried in his
journal. There were times when Blaise wondered just how much the imprisonment of his father changed
Draco. Was he always like this? Or did he change because of his father? Blaise would never find
out. Draco Malfoy was not keen to sharing his secrets either. Perching himself one of the arms of
Tracey's chair, he leaned over to see what she was reading.

“More potions books?” Blaise wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“Applied project,” she said. “It's due at the end of the year, but you'd be surprised
how competitive everyone in Medical is. How about you? Another bad day with Moody?”

“That staff of his must have buggered him one too many times. He has it out for me. As does
Snape. Why would they ever put me in that Track?” Blaise complained.

“I'm sure it's for a reason,” Tracey said.

*To punish me,* Blaise thought sourly. Maybe Snape was playing another one of his games.
Blaise still shuddered at his broken memories of the night he participated in brutally beating
Harry. The headmaster was dangerous. Far more dangerous than any of the other students would like
to think. Blaise had known dangerous men in his life. His mother had more than her fair share of
suitors. There was always a glint in their eyes, an underlying darkness that one had to squint to
see. But it was there.

“Have you seen the Com?” Blaise looked around the Common Room for that increasingly unruly mop
of black hair.

“He's not here. Caught up in another tournament meeting,” said Tracey.

*Good.*

Blaise patted her on the shoulder, satisfied that he confirmed Harry's location. He bid her
goodbye. Malfoy never looked up.

The flutters in his stomach were increasing. Blaise didn't panic. Instead of wringing his
hands or distressedly running his hand across his face, he sat calmly as he waited for the dinner
bell to ring. The timing would have to be perfect. There was only a small window of opportunity.
When he heard the loud gongs announcing dinner, Blaise waited and made sure the majority of the
Slytherins had left. No one would notice a straggler or two.

He left behind the rest of the crowd. Blaise even followed them up the staircase to the ground
floor. Turning right would take him into the Great Hall. He stopped, made sure there were no others
around, and turned left instead. Then, he cast the Disillusionment Charm. The familiar ice cold
trickling crept down his body. Now, he was just a distorted blur walking through the castle. There
was a back door that opened into the grounds. Blaise took it.

Outside, the sun was already setting. An orange slice hung on the horizon, but it was already
dark. Winter was approaching and the sky became a little blacker just a little quicker. Most of the
other students left for dinner as well. Madame Maxime had rumbled by not too long ago. It was very
hard to miss her. At last, he reached his destination.

They told him they would be in the second to last carriage in the line. The winged horses knew
he was there. They sniffed at Blaise, sensing his presence through his invisibility. He would pat
some on the nose just to assuage them as he approached the second to last carriage. Blaise paused
in front of every carriage, making sure there wasn't a similar straggler to dinner. When he
reached the second to last carriage, Blaise Zabini steeled himself.

*I can still turn back. I don't have to do this,* he thought.

Yet, Blaise knew he must.

He patted the door twice with his open palm, then rapped his knuckles against it thrice. After a
moment, the door opened. A shaved head peeked out. Blaise cancelled the charm. Karim Tireur smiled
as he saw the Fourth Year Slytherin.

“So you did come. I've heard you are good with money. You owe me some so I can Petra for
losing our bet. Come in, little Slytherin.” Karim spoke quickly but assuredly. Blaise did not like
the sound of his voice.

He stepped into the carriage, knowing it would be magically enlarged within. Unlike the
uniformity of Hogwarts dorms, the different rooms within this carriage each had its own
personality. Different fabrics of a variety of colors hung from each and every corner. There were
four distinct sessions but only two people within the carriage. There was a tall, brunette girl
sitting on a plush couch in the middle.

“Do you know Petra? She's one of the other champions,” Karim said.

Blaise smiled at her, doing his best not to reveal the nervous flutters in his stomach. They
were not due to this Beauxbatons girl. He resisted the urge to squeeze his wrist. It was his
nervous tic.

“Pleased to meet you,” he said as calmly as he could.

She cocked her head. Petra had a narrow and angular face. Her nose was a smidgen too long and
her eyes were asymmetrical. Her high cheekbones and perfect hair offsetted the incongruencies,
giving her an unnatural beauty. Blaise was not moved by that. Karim was the far more dangerous
player in this game.

“We have about twenty minutes until others start to return for dinner. I'd like for you to
be out in eighteen.” Karim flicked his wand and an hourglass filled with gobstones flipped end over
end. It started squeezing through from one end of the hourglass to the other. Blaise quelled the
nervous flutters in his stomach.

Karim flopped onto the large couch in the middle of the carriage. He kicked one leg over the
other and looked at Blaise with his dark eyes. The Slytherin met his gaze, trying not to be
intimidated by the two older students. He was failing, but he would not show it. His mother had
been adamant in never showing what he was actually thinking. Miss Zabini taught him very well in
his opinion.

“Sooooo…” Karim drew out the word, his eyes never leaving Blaise. “One of your little children
told me you had something important to tell me.”

“That depends.”

“On what?” Karim arched one of his bushy eyebrows.

Blaise took a moment to collect himself, thinking of the words he rehearsed. “What I'm about
to tell you is going to be advantageous for you. I ask that you don't ask me why I'm doing
this. I ask that you keep me out of anything you might be planning. I am here to give you
information. Nothing more.”

Karim waited for a moment. The Beauxbatons student glanced at Petra. Then, he said, “No.”

“No?” Blaise repeated.

“I do not want to talk to a man when I don't know his motivations. Motivations are key. How
can I possibly believe what you *need* to tell me if I don't know why you're doing
it?”

“Because I think you want to know about Harry Potter.”

Blaise knew he had them. Petra tried to feign interest in a long, transfigured object in one
corner of the room. There was a glittering placard that had Karim Tireur's name over that
particular corner. Blaise wondered what that transfigured object was. It had a particular shape to
it. It was *almost* interesting enough to hold someone's attention, but it did not stand a
chance of keeping Petra's attention once Blaise uttered the famous name. Karim did not bother
to hide his enthusiasm. He leaned forward, cupping his chin in both hands like a chalice. His dark
eyes winked with mischief.

“And why would one of Harry Potter's best friends want to talk to his rivals?” Karim
asked.

Blaise shook his head slowly. “Harry has no friends. He has delegates. Subjects who he commands.
No one in our year even calls him by his name anymore.”

*Except for Tracey*, Blaise thought. *I can't bring her into this. She wouldn't
want to be part of this.*

“So I've heard.” Karim leaned back. “Everyone has. That still doesn't satisfy me. Why
would you do this? Telling me anything about the Hogwarts champions will put your school in
jeopardy of losing.”

“I don't care about the school,” Blaise said.

“Really? I thought everyone *loved* Hogwarts Battle School.”

Blaise gritted his teeth, trying not to grow impatient with Karim's mocking responses. The
gobstones were still seeping through the hourglass. They did not have much time.

“Tell me why you're so obsessed with beating Harry. If you do, I'll tell you my
reasons,” Blaise blurted out.

Karim considered him thoughtfully. Petra continued to act bored and Blaise wondered just exactly
what her role was. Friend? Confidant? Backup? Blaise tried to run the scenarios through his head,
but he had to focus on one game at a time.

“You know a lot about the old families, don't you? You belong to a Pureblood sect yourself,”
Karim said.

The Zabinis did not come from old blood. They were not around before the Statute of Secrecy. The
Zabini vault in Gringotts did not come about until late in the seventeenth century. His ancestors
were eventually accepted into the older Pureblood families. Much of that society was defunct now,
but names still held sway. Names would always hold sway.

Karim continued on without a response. “The Tireurs were newer to England. My
great-great-grandmother migrated over here from France nearly a hundred and fifty years ago. Our
family prospered. Our broom business boomed. Everything was fine for a hundred years until
Grindelwald came along. My great grandparents were killed by Grindelwald. My grandparents, an
Uncle, three Aunts, and two of my cousins were killed by Voldemort and his Death Eaters. We do not
have good history with the Pureblood families. Do you know why?”

Blaise tried to answer him but found nothing. He knew the Tireurs lived in England before, but
the circumstances around their departure had never been discussed by any of the families or women
who chatted with his mother.

“They did not like finding sport with Muggleborns. No, I would never be able to marry a
half-blood or a Muggleborn, but they did not like torturing and killing them either. Voldemort
wouldn't have for that, so he razed the family house to the ground.”

Karim paused, his eyes far away as he flexed his right pointer finger.

“My brother was in that house.”

Blaise didn't expect that intimate revelation. If Karim was aiming to unsettle him, it was
succeeding. He felt like an intruder, learning this dark past. Instead of giving false sympathies,
Blaise remained quiet. Karim picked up on it and finished the rest of his tale.

“When it came time, I never received a letter from Hogwarts. My mother had enough and returned
back to our ancient family home in France. Everyone celebrates the Boy-Who-Lived and the famous
Hogwarts Battle School with its legions of Aurors and heroes. Why wasn't I invited? I had just
as much reason as everyone else who lost someone to Voldemort. Instead...instead...instead I'm
shipped off to shitting Wolping Academy in Liverpool. Why not me for Hogwarts? Mother didn't
care for an answer. She hated this place already. So we left.”

The gobstones clinked softly against the hourglass as Karim paused.

“Whoever thought I couldn't make it here was wrong. I've already seen that I can beat
most of the ingrates in this tournament. No one cares about that. I need to beat the one who will
make the loudest noise,” Karim said.

“Voldemort's dead. Why would you need to prove anything?” Blaise asked.

“So is my brother. I deserved to be here. I deserved to join the Aurors and hunt down the
bastards that killed her. They're still out there. My parents tried to put it all behind them,
but they didn't see. They didn't see my brother's burnt and mangled corpse. They
couldn't stand to look. That fell to me. Imagine - a six year old looking at the burnt body of
his older brother. And yet...fucking Wolping is where I was supposed to go.”

Karim suddenly stopped and his face lit up with a smile. The sudden change disconcerted Blaise
more than he cared to show.

“So there,” Karim said. “Now you know why I'm keen to beat Harry Potter. It's not his
fault. He just happens to be in the way. You have five minutes to say what you came here to say,
Zabini.”

“You took most of that time,” Blaise said.

Karim shrugged. “Five minutes. Speak or leave. It does not matter to me.”

*Oh, it matters. Why else would you want to me to tell you if it didn't?* Karim might
have tried to play coy, but Blaise knew better. *You must do this,* he told himself.

“Harry embarrassed me. He threw me to the side. I'm no longer…”

“...useful?” Karim finished. “You liked that power, didn't you? It's the prestige
without the burden.”

Blaise gulped but not too visibly and with little movement. “I just want to see him down a peg
or two.”

“Fair enough. He does seem to be rather arrogant,” Karim said in a strangely non-ironic
manner.

“You won't hurt him, right? He's been down that road before and won't be broken.
Fleur has also been around him more.”

Karim waved the idea off. “Of course not. I do not intend beat him like you mongrels. As for our
little Veela, let her play her little games. I have no interest in her.”

Petra finally spoke. “Two minutes.”

Karim leaned forward, his long fingers rubbing his eyebrows. His dark eyes were deep and empty
at the same time. Was Karim even telling the truth? Blaise had no way of knowing, but the emotion
did not seem fake. *Why did you do this to me, Harry?*

“Do you know the history between Slytherins and Gryffindors?” Blaise said.

“I have heard you do not like each other,” Karim answered in an amused tone.

“Do you know who Hermione Granger is?”

“One of the Hogwarts champions, I believe.”

Blaise Zabini paused. Then, he made his move.

“This is how you hurt Harry Potter.”

* * * * * * * * * *

**A/N: 14 days**
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39. No Pity For The Weak
------------------------



The giant snake slithered through the school. Its serpentine body wrapped around a corner, the
tongue flicking out to taste the air. Down it went, smoothly and silently, until it was in the
dungeons. It stopped outside the Slytherin Common Room.

“Com, wake up.”

Forest green eyes snapped open. His heart was thundering in his chest and there was a slight
tingling along his scar. Harry put a hand to his chest to make sure his shirt was on. Peeling back
the drapes, he was surprise to find Blaise standing there. More worriedly, Blaise had his wand out.
Harry's hand automatically reached for his wand underneath his pillow. Blaise was the last
person to have his wand out when it wasn't Battle class.

“What's wrong?” Harry asked, sensing that something was amiss.

“It's about Granger.”

Those were words Harry was never supposed to hear in the dormitory of the Fifth Year
Slytherins.. Harry noticed that he had overslept again and cursed underneath his breath. The
dormitory was empty save for them.

“What happened?” Harry asked.

“Someone's found out about you and her,” Blaise said in a grim tone.

“About us? About the cave?”

Blaise shook his head and wordlessly handed Harry the newspaper. Harry had to grab his glasses
to read the small print, but he didn't even need to do that. Emblazoned across the top of the
newspaper, in bold letters, was the headline. It would be innocuous, almost silly, to anyone that
didn't know the internal politics of Hogwarts. The title was blatantly silly. But the damage
was done.

**The Gryffindor and The Slytherin.**

Harry held the Daily Prophet tightly in his hands as he skimmed through the article. It was a
mixture of truth and lies. There were descriptions of them meeting in empty classrooms, trying to
keep their relationship in secret. The author speculated various things. They were learning from
each other. They were teaching each other dark curses. They were trying to hide their forbidden
love. Any idea was thrown forward as the author tried to make something stick. It continually
emphasized that they had multiple sources within Hogwarts that knew about this secret friendship
but didn't have the courage to say until now.

*Aristophanes.*

The name was written in fancy print at the bottom of the article. Harry clenched his jaw when he
saw the name, remembering the inquisitive reporter. It wasn't the truth. Aristophanes clearly
did not know about the cave. She had barely an idea of what they were actually doing when they met
together. Yet, the idea was out in the open. If there was any inkling it was true...any inkling at
all…

“I came back here as soon as I read it. I got to breakfast early and I didn't know what the
reaction would be. I wanted to make sure nothing...untoward happened before you saw it,” Blaise
said.

“Thank you,” Harry said quietly.

“The other guys hadn't read it yet by the time they left for breakfast. I expect most of the
school will have seen this by now.”

“Could you judge any reaction from the people that were already at breakfast?” Harry asked.

“I left as soon as I saw the headline.”

Harry reread the article again, trying to see if there were any clues. He looked up at Blaise
and asked, “Did you?”

Blaise looked him in the eye and said, “No.”

Harry accepted his answer. Blaise had come to tell him first. He was also far from the only one
who knew. Tracey knew, but Harry knew she would never betray him like this. There were others.
Neville and Luna also had bits of pieces of important information. He couldn't see Luna telling
Aristophanes, but he would have to ask her regardless. Neville had the most to gain from spilling
this story. The bumbling boy had never liked Harry. Hermione always claimed he was very loyal,
though, and entrusted him with the secret as well. Were there others? Were they careless in their
meetings?

“What do you want to do about this?” Blaise asked.

Reaching for the special Sickle inside his bedside drawer, Harry was surprised to find it
already warm with a message. *Do not come to the Great Hall*, it said. He sat on the edge of
his bed, contemplating the best course of action. Stay away and they would say he was trying to
hide. Go to the Great Hall and he would face the full wrath of the Hogwarts rumor mill. Harry took
out a different Sickle and inscribed a message on it.

“We go to Trow's classroom. With me,” Harry ordered.

The Slytherin Common Room was empty. The hallways were sparse. Breakfast would have to be
skipped for now. Blaise walked in step beside him, his wand still in his left hand. Inside
Trow's classroom, there were three other students: two older Ravenclaws and a First Year
Hufflepuff. They glanced at him but said nothing otherwise. It might have been that they had not
read the Daily Prophet yet. Though the two other Houses might joke and snicker, they were not
Harry's primary concern.

He chose two seats in the corner, far away from the others. Blaise sat down next to him and
whispered, “What are we doing here?”

“Wait,” Harry commanded.

The Stationary Omnioculars were untouched as the pair of Slytherins sat in silence. Harry
appreciated Blaise's patience. He would need support from any Slytherin possible. *She
shouldn't be much longer.*

Luna Lovegood was wearing a pair of giant glasses and a strange redcap hat when she walked into
the Strategy classroom. She gave a big wave when she spotted the two of them. Harry fought the urge
to cast a Disillusionment charm and disappear. Blaise was even more perplexed at the sight of the
strange Ravenclaw.

“Hi, Liam. Hello, Rhys,” Luna said to her two Housemates.

Neither of them said a word as she walked by. Both were blankly gazing at her strange outfit.
When she finally sat down next to Harry, Luna had drawn the gaze of the three other students in the
classroom. She smiled at Blaise.

“Hello, I'm Luna,” she said.

“Blaise Zabini.” He stared at the red cap on her head.

Ignoring the introductions, Harry asked, “Have you seen the Prophet today, Luna?”

“I'm sorry, Harry. I haven't. I don't read the Prophet. My father says that they are
all paid shills.”

“True as that may be, there's an article on there that I need you to see.”

Blaise handed her the newspaper. She looked entertained by the article, a smile dancing on her
lips. Brushing a blonde lock behind her ear, Luna set the newspaper down and looked at the pair
with her wide blue eyes.

“A very entertaining read,” she said.

Harry noticed the others looking their way now. Another Hufflepuff walked into the classroom. He
reminded himself that he needed a spell that would conceal their conversations. He did not want to
keep Luna here for too long.

He dropped his voice to a bare whisper. “Did you tell anyone about the cave?”

Luna blinked at him. “What cave?”

*Good girl.* He never truly believed that Luna would betray him. She was too kind but not
as naive as others would think. There was a cleverness about her that wasn't apparent when one
took in her strange appearance. Luna Lovegood was a Ravenclaw after all.

*Not Blaise. Not Tracey. Not Luna.* That left only Neville and...one other.

“Harry.” There was a warning in Blaise's voice.

Marcus Flint had entered the room. It only took one venomous glance. The Slytherins had not
taken to the article well. There would be a chance to explain himself, but he would not be getting
the benefit of the doubt if Flint's stare was anything to go by. Harry matched his gaze evenly,
unwilling to show weakness.

“It is hard for you, but it is sometimes better to be like a Large Lung Lizard and disappear
under the water for as long as you can,” Luna said.

Flint glared at him the whole way to his seat, his lips curling to reveal his prominent buck
teeth. Harry's hand flexed underneath the table, twitching towards his wand. Blaise still had
his ready in his left hand. Harry suspected it would be like that for quite some time now.

“I'll take that under consideration. Thank you, Luna.”

“There is one more thing I need to talk to you about. I have been withholding it for some time.
You have enough to worry about.”

“What is it?”

She shook her head, the loop earrings on her ears swinging freely. “Not here. There are some
interesting things you must know about a student in Beauxbatons.”

Harry had a feeling he knew who she was talking about already. That would have to wait though.
The Second Task was not for some time and other things were now taking priority. He patted her
hand, discreetly so no one would see except Blaise.

“Watch your Sickle. I'll be calling you soon,” he said.

“Watch your back, Harry. Every time we meet, you have more enemies.”

“Any tips?”

Luna stood up and Harry could tell her smile was forced this time. More and more people were
coming into the classroom. Luna was clever. She knew they were being watched.

“You also have friends, Harry. Don't forget that.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Harry expected vitriol, but what he received was more unsettling. The Slytherins were cold and
dismissive. The older ones no longer regarded him as a curiosity. They openly glared at him in the
rare occasions he lingered in the Common Room. He had given a speech to his Year, denouncing the
article, but the Fourth Years weren't convinced. Tracey had said the right words. Blaise stood
by his side. They didn't believe him.

Justin swore by Merlin, Salazar, Godric, Rowena, and Helga that he did not say anything about
Hermione or the cave. Harry gave him his first lesson in Occlumency as he had Justin try to repel a
ruthless Legilimency spell. Harry was satisfied that Justin had not told Aristophanes. The
Hufflepuff was not as pleased. The only option left was Neville.

Hermione confirmed that it wasn't Neville either. Harry had still not spoken to her in
person. They communicated through the Protean charm on the Sickles. She was adamant that Neville
would never betray her. Harry had his doubts. He remembered the idiotic way Neville had confronted
him last year. With no way to question Neville himself, Harry found himself on square one. He told
as much to Blaise the next day.

“Com, you weren't that careful. Tracey found out you were doing something. Both of you would
be gone for hours on end. If anyone bothered paying attention…” Blaise trailed off.

He was right.

That didn't make Harry feel any better.

He was in a sour mood as he arrived for another history lesson with Trow and Lupin. While he
appreciated their special tutoring, Harry felt as if they were moving at a snail's pace. Layers
and layers of background and history did not seem all too relevant for actions in the near future.
Yes, Harry knew there were underlying lessons. No, they did not seem useful.

“Grindelwald had a particular talent for recruiting like-minded individuals to his cause. He was
charismatic. As you've seen, most of the Dark Lords have that same characteristic. It is needed
to attract followers…”

Trow droned for a little bit as Harry lost interest. He was still thinking of how he could
contact Hermione and set up a meeting. She had been studiously avoiding him since the Daily Prophet
article. Harry was annoyed to find her sudden disappearance vexing. Discretion he understood, but
Hermione gave him the impression that they should avoid the conflict altogether. He resolved not to
worry about it further. Hermione would contact him when she was prepared and never before.

“Are we boring you, Harry?” Lupin asked. The tone was kind but his face said otherwise.

“I'm sorry, sir. I've been distracted.”

Lupin and Trow exchanged a glance.

“Is this about the Daily Prophet article?” Trow asked.

Harry fought the urge to fidget in his seat. “Partially. Why would someone write something like
that?”

“Are you asking why they would write an article linking you and Miss Granger together or are you
asking why they would run an article about you on the front page of the Prophet?”

“Both, I guess.”

Trow considered the answer for a moment. “The press is regularly used to influence opinions. You
would be surprised how effective a piece of information is once it is disseminated to the public -
the truth or not.”

“You already knew, didn't you? About Hermione and I?”

Neither of them bothered to hide the answers in their faces. Lupin nodded evenly while Trow gave
the slightest hint of a smile. Harry sighed. If they knew about Hermione, they must have known
plenty about everything else. Yet, they made no efforts to stop Justin the year before. What did
that say about them?

“It is not our place to decide who you talk to,” Lupin said.

Harry thought of the four bullies influenced by Snape. Their brand of nonintervention seemed to
extend well beyond intervening in meetings between Slytherin and Gryffindor. Did that also mean
they knew about the cave? Was there nowhere in Hogwarts that had privacy? Harry guarded himself
again, remembering they had a hand, knowingly or unknowingly, in the events of last year. How did
they know?

“What happened to Grindelwald?” Harry suddenly asked, wanting to know the answer to a question
that had been bothering him since their first lesson.

“He was defeated by Dumbledore…” Trow started.

Harry interrupted him. “I mean - what happened to Grindelwald after that? Is he still at the
prison in Nuremberg?”

Lupin and Trow exchanged a glance.

“He *was* there. Grindelwald died some time ago,” Trow answered.

“In prison? How did he die? From what you've told me, Grindelwald was a powerful
wizard.”

“Even powerful wizards shrink to nothing more than ordinary beings without a wand,” Lupin
explained.

*Do they?* Harry hid the small amount of amusement he felt at that statement.

“Still, he wasn't that old.”

“No, he wasn't.” Trow looked straight at Harry, his gray eyes darkening.

Until now, Trow's demeanor had always been instructional and informative. Lupin had wilder
mood swings depending on how close it was to a full moon, but Trow stayed calm. As Harry looked
into his gray eyes, he found a strange emotion. There were flecks of sadness.

“Grindelwald was murdered.”

Harry raised his eyebrows at Trow's statement. “Someone within the prison?”

“No,” Lupin answered, taking over for Trow. “They determined it wasn't any of the prisoners
or guards. They cast the *Priori Incantatem* on all of the guards and prisoners and any of the
surrounding population. Someone killed him and left.”

Grindelwald was supposed to be a powerful Dark Lord and he had been murdered wandless and
defenseless. Even great wizards were not entitled to storybook endings, good or evil. Yet, Harry
found little pity for Grindelwald. The dark wizard was intent on controlling people. In the end, he
had no control over his own defense.

“Did they ever find the person?” Harry asked.

“No.”

“Sounds like he didn't have a shortage of enemies.”

“The murder was deeper than a common enemy. To cast the Killing Curse requires the utmost hate.
You will soon learn about it in Professor Moody's class, but know this, Harry. Whoever cast the
Killing Curse on Grindelwald held a deep enmity towards him. It is no easy thing.”

It mirrored what Flamel said. Harry commented, “It requires sacrifice, right?”

Trow nodded, his gray eyes unfocused. “Yes. A great sacrifice.”

Lupin was at the front of the classroom. He walked over to Harry and placed a hand on his
shoulder. A tremor ran through Harry's body as he tried to limit the instinct to flinch at
contact. If Lupin noticed, he did not remark on it

“I'm afraid to say that you will likely find yourself in a situation where the only solution
is to eliminate the target fully. There are other ways to do that besides the Killing Curse. Most
Aurors can not even cast it effectively,” Lupin said.

“There's an effectiveness to casting that curse? I thought I read that it killed instantly
and that it was unblockable.”

“Yes. If it is cast effectively. Yet, it is still a spell and spells can be miscast. Even the
Killing Curse.”

“And it was definitely the Killing Curse that killed Gindelwald?” Harry asked.

Trow nodded softly, looking so old for a man who was only in his thirties.

“Yes.”

* * * * * * * * * * *

Dark looks and sour faces. Harry encountered them every time he got out of bed. His classmates
hardly spoke to him unless it was absolutely necessary. Performance in Battle class was suffering
greatly. Orders that were followed obediently were either disregarded or ignored. Theodore Nott and
Pansy Parkinson were at the head of this dissension. Harry threatened them with punishment, but
they remained silent and defiant at his fury. Words meant nothing.

He could not expect to hold them out of Battle class like he did Blaise. One person was risking
it and Harry had the advantage of having a better prepared Slytherin class. Once the other classes
caught onto his training technique, they improved in kind. Hermione's heroics during the First
Task had given her more credence as the leader of Gryffindor and they were defeating Slytherin with
unsettling regularity. Harry tried to pin the blame on his dissident Slytherins, but he knew the
others would see it as an unacceptable defeat against the Gryffindor.

The unusual warmth of the fall quickly turned into the icy grip of winter. Aristophanes
continued to write scathingly about Harry; stories of his covert meetings with Hermione as well as
tales of erratic behavior in Battle class. What was once a leak was now turning into a flood. Harry
had no doubt that others in his class were now sending owls to Aristophanes with slanted tales and
outright lies.

If he expected help from the faculty, Harry had better hope that Voldemort himself would rescue
him from this situation. Snape did nothing to dissuade or even discourage the writings of
Aristophanes. Lupin and Trow continued their supposed stance of nonintervention. Harry grew cold
towards them as well. He participated in their lessons, learning of how Grindelwald consolidated
his base. The deceased dark wizard ensnared others with tales of glory and supremacy. Grindelwald
was particularly adept at absorbing those who started with differing viewpoints. Trow said that he
was the master of the Imperius Curse. No one rivaled him.

But Harry had cottoned on long ago that these lessons were only at the behest of Snape. If
Voldemort were still truly active like they intimated, why had no one brought forth his attentions?
Surely, the Ministry would be actively searching for him. Harry sought to investigate other sources
on the existence of Voldemort, but there were few resources. Blaise could ask his mother to inquire
for reports and books, but that would take extensive time and persuasion. Miss Zabini, who had
friends in the Ministry, would ask questions. Harry did not want any more questions.

Turning to Hermione was a false dawn as well. She studiously avoided him and Gryffindors had
placed the blame of this article onto him. He dare not turn her out. Hermione had her reasons, but
she refused to communicate through the special Sickle no matter how many times he hailed her.
Fearing the rumors should he disappear for extended periods of time in the cave, Harry had only
Blaise and Tracey to rely on for help for the time being. His mood was edgy, every word coming out
of his mouth at a snarl.

“Again,” Harry barked, watching the Fourth Year Slytherins transfigure random objects into quick
shields. It was sloppy. Only Draco and Tracey managed to transfigure their rocks into flat, stone
sheets that could absorb a spell.

He corrected them down the line, despite his own weakness in transfiguration. It was not his
forte, but he was better than almost others save for Draco. The Malfoy boy had been noticeably
quiet during the past weeks, despite his known hatred for Mudbloods in general. Tracey said that
she had talked to him and he agreed to not agitate the situation too much. Both she and Blaise were
trying to work over the rest of the Fourth Years, but prejudices ran deep and not even the Bringer
of Lightning could break their ingrained belief in the inferiority of those with lesser blood. It
did not help matters that Hermione was a Gryffindor.

“Charms and offensive spells are predictable. Until you get better at wordless spells, they are
easily telegraphed and subsequently blocked. Using transfiguration can help you circumvent
obstacles and block spells with some creativity instead of being found out with one
*Stupefy.*” Harry lectured, pacing back and forth with his hands behind his back.

“Why don't we just use *Protego*?” Pansy asked.

“Uses energy. Transfiguring an object takes less toll on your body,” Harry answered.

“Only if we know how to do it right. If not, we just waste our time,” Pansy countered.

“This conversation is a waste of time,” Harry snapped. “Spend more of your time improving your
transfiguration. You will need it if you ever hope to beat Gryffindor again.”

The words might have meant nothing, but they could still cut. Harry was in no mood to entertain
their ideas of what they could and could not do. A grumble ran through the Fourth Years as they
stood around. Blaise tried to remain neutral, a facade that had to be maintained so Harry could
keep tabs on who spoke out the most. Tracey looked saddened by the whole situation. She waved her
wand again. Stone turned into a smooth slab.

There was a crowd towards the back, behind the advanced shield that guarded them. Susan Bones
and Padma Patil were in attendance as well as a smatter of older students. Karim Tireur sat with
two pretty Beauxbatons girls as well. Harry glanced at them as he instructed another set of
transfiguration changes. Again, there were more failures than successes.

He stared at the lot of them. Pansy and Nott were laughing at a joke. Sadie was transfiguring a
piece of wood into a poorly animated bunny and then back again. Blaise looked between the group and
Harry hesitantly while Tracey looked just as lost as Harry himself. The others were milling about,
discontent murmurs as they repeatedly failed in their transfigurations. Harry had enough of their
malaise.

“Parkinson. Nott. Greengrass. Bulstrode.”

Harry enunciated each of their names sharply. Beckoning them closer, he motioned for Blaise to
lead the others away. The four other Slytherins stood in a circle around Harry. He asked the Room
of Requirement for a domed shield and the Room granted him one. It shimmered around the five of
them.

“You want to practice dueling? Come on.”

The wand was loose in his hand. He was wearing his dragonhide gloves as he was ought to do any
time there was a chance he was to participate in a duel. These days, it could be at any point. The
four other Slytherins took a quick look at one another. He could hear the question in their heads
without the need for Legilimency.

*Is he serious?*

If they wanted to act petulant about a silly thing like befriending a Gryffindor, then a lesson
could be taught. It was up to Harry to be the teacher.

“*Expelliarmus.”* He disarmed Bulstrode faster than any of them could raise their wands. He
gestured dismissively at her wand. “Pick it up.”

They cottoned on quickly. Harry was at the center, purposefully making himself an easy target.
Their wands were raised now. Nott took a step to his left and Pansy matched him. Daphne and
Millicent followed step until they were circling him, making him keep track of their movement.
*Good*, he thought. *At least they remember some of the things I've taught them.*

Circling him, the four Slytherins waited for a moment of opportunity. It would be a brief second
where Harry's eyes would slide from one target to the next. That would be his most vulnerable
point. But Harry was not focused on one target. *Come on, you idiots. Attack as one. Don't be
foolish to try it one on one.*

They obliged him.

Pansy, Millicent, and Daphne struck with various curses. Harry pointed his wand down and cast a
Repelling Charm, launching himself in the air. A practiced Cushioning Charm was out of his lips to
break his fall. In mid-air he transfigured a piece of wood into a long and cylindrical shape. He
pushed it with a Banishing Charm, slamming the object into Nott. The dark-haired boy was waiting
for Harry's reaction but did not expect him to go up. *Fools. It's the same trick I used
when Hermione beat us with her Body Sap Spell.*

They had the grace to at least attack him quickly and try to keep him off balance. Yet, they
were uninspiring and predictable. What made them decent fighters in groups masked their individual
weaknesses. Daphne only knew a handful of spells. Pansy was too quick to attack and spent no time
defending herself. Millicent was a big body and little more. Nott was the best of them, but prone
to anger if the right buttons were pushed.

Harry transformed a steel sheet into a mirror. As Pansy's spell cracked the mirror, he
banished the broken pieces. Pansy, Millicent, and Daphne brought up *Protego* shields at the
same time. He tried to enlarge the broken shards of transfigured glass, but the spell failed. A
frown crossed his face. Transfiguration was still his second weakest subject next to Potions.

*“**Stupefy.”*

Harry had little reason to think the spell against Pansy would work. She could block the spell
well enough. Yet, she had stupidly lowered her shield after deflecting the shards of the broken
mirror. The *Stupefy* took her out. A flare of anger overcame Harry at her sloppiness. Pansy
should have never been taken out by a single *Stupefy.*

He heard Nott cast a spell behind him. As he turned to pivot for a quick *Protego*, Harry
felt a searing pain in his knee. A thousand knives pierced it and down he went to one knee. The
spell, another *Stupefy*, incidentally struck a surprised Millicent. From one knee, Harry cast
an *Incarcerous* on a befuddled Nott, wrapping his arms tight to his side. When Daphne tried
to cast a Backflip Curse on him, Harry summoned the same cylindrical piece of wood that knocked out
Nott earlier. The wood splintered into hundreds of pieces as the Backflip Curse crushed it. Weakly
transfigured objects were often destroyed due to their inherent structural weaknesses.

Hissing from pain, Harry came to his feet. His right knee was useless. Three of his four
opponents were already out of the picture and he was fairly confident he could wipe the floor with
Daphne Greengrass if he was at full strength. Gritting his teeth, he stared down Greengrass. Her
wand shook as she pointed it at him.

“*Bombarda!”*

The ground exploded in front of Harry. For once, Daphne caught him off guard. A choked cry
almost escaped his throat as he landed awkwardly, but he swallowed it down. Instead, he whipped his
wand in a circular motion and conjured thin wires of metal. Daphne fired a Stunner towards him that
he easily blocked. Harry completed the spell by flicking his wand in a motion that resembled a
cross. The thin wires came together to form a net. It flew through the air, the metal shining
brightly in the artificial light of the room. Daphne, panicked, performed a Cutting Curse to try to
break it apart.

The conjuration held as the Cutting Curse barely nicked the metal. Ensnared, she conceded after
a moment of struggle. The four other Slytherins were battered and bruised as Harry came to his
feet. He held himself high despite the throbbing in his right knee. The protective shield around
them came down on Harry's signal. Tracey rushed forward, releasing Daphne from the metal net
and tending to her wounds. Draco checked on Nott, who was wincing as he held his chest. Pansy and
Millicent were largely okay once Tracey cast *Enervate* on the pair.

Harry didn't move from his spot. He could not move. If he took one step, his right knee
would crumble. He dismissed them and the Slytherins slowly fled the room. Nott and Parkinson cast
him the same hateful glares that were common for the past week, but this time, Bulstrode and
Greengrass joined them. Tracey finally approached him.

“Your knee,” she said.

“That obvious?” Harry muttered, not wanting those in the crowd to hear him.

“Probably not to everyone else, but I knew. I told you to stay off it.”

“It's been three weeks.”

“And you've re-aggravated it. Let me take a -”

Tracey stepped towards him to examine the knee. Harry swayed and reached his hand out to clutch
her shoulder. She sensed his weakness and stood firm so he could balance himself. He exhaled
sharply, trying not to look weak. *What's the point? They must know by now.*

“Is it that bad? How does it hurt?” Tracey asked, concern laced through her voice.

“Like a thousand fucking knives are going through my knee.”

She shook her head, dark curls swaying. “It shouldn't be like this. A little sore, maybe,
but it should have healed by now. I need Draco to come take a look at.”

“No,” Harry hissed. “No one else.”

Her blue eyes turned icy. “If you would stop being a prat for two seconds, *Commander,*
then I can help you. Draco is better at diagnostic spells than I am. Do I get to help or should I
let you walk back to the Common Room?”

The pain was too much. Harry acquiesced and she called out to the blond Slytherin. He was idling
a few feet away with Blaise but came as soon as she called.

“You've gotten yourself into a bit of a spot, Potter,” Malfoy commented as he moved his wand
in a horizontal fashion parallel to his knee. Blue and red spirits floated from his knee to the
wand. The floaty essence touched the tip of Malfoy's wand and then travelled back to
Harry's knee. The red coloring far out covered the blue coloring.

“Strained,” Malfoy muttered. “He has to see Pomfrey again.”

Blaise came over now, a small huddle forming around the Commander. Harry could feel the eyes on
him from the crowd, assessing and analyzing him. *What would they make of this?* Harry
wondered. *The Bringer of Lightning reduced to one leg again.*

“Can you numb it? At least make it so that I can walk to the Hospital Wing with my cane,” Harry
said. Draco and Tracey exchanged a glance.

“We did technically just learn the Numbing Charm,” Draco pointed out.

“Gone wrong, the Numbing Charm can cause Harry permanent nerve damage in his knee,” Tracey
rebutted.

“Wouldn't be so bad at this point,” Harry said.

Tracey shot another glare at him. “We can either float you or carry you. I'm not going to
risk Draco performing a Numbing Charm for the first time on you without Pomfrey around.”

Malfoy snorted but didn't argue. Harry grimaced and put his arm around Tracey. She wrapped
hers around his waist. The pressure was immediately alleviated from his knee. Draco and Blaise
accompanied them to the Hospital Wing. It was an agonizing climb. The stares of the other students
grated on every frayed nerve. Madame Pomfrey had some more choice rebukes for him as she confined
him to the bed again.

“It is not healing properly,” she finally said. Harry fidgeted, conscious of the three
Slytherins watching him.

“Can you make it better?” he asked.

“Contrary to what you might think, I can not keep putting you back into one piece. I'm
submitting a formal mandate to Professor Snape. You are not to participate in any Battle class or
dueling sessions for two weeks.”

“No.”

Madame Pomfrey was not going to be cowed by a teenager, no matter what his status. She disarmed
him and cast another spell to bind him to the bed before he could even blink. Tracey gasped. Harry
tried to get up but found himself held down by invisible bonds.

“What did you do to me?” Harry exclaimed.

“What I do to all unruly patients,” Pomfrey said. “What's best for them.”

She stalked away, every step echoing loudly on the linoleum floor. Harry tried to move again,
but the bonds held. He could lift his neck ever so slightly to look around but nothing else. The
spell was strong and Pomfrey had experience with it. The three other Slytherins approached the
bed.

“No one else here?” Harry asked, struggling to fight the bonds.

“No,” Draco answered.

“Then get this spell off me.”

The three of them paused and Harry knew he was lost. Tracey at least had the decency to answer
for them.

“Pomfrey is right. Your knee needs to heal.”

“Did you hear what she said? No dueling. No Battle classes. What am I supposed to do?”

Blaise came up with a solution. “This actually might be an opportunity.”

“Explain to me how being bedridden and unable to duel classifies as an opportunity? The Second
Task is right after the Yule Ball. The rest of our Year is openly revolting. How could this
possibly be an opportunity?” Harry vented.

“Considering the amount of...trash, so to say…is floating around about you, it might be a good
time for you to step away from the light for a little bit. Get the focus off you. No one is going
to blame you for not being able to participate because of a cursed knee,” Blaise explained.

“It wasn't a curse. I fell. You think Parkinson and Nott are going to listen to me if I can
barely walk? What am I to do about that?”

“Malfoy and I could cover for a little while. It might do you some good as well if they forgot
about the whole Granger incident. It would only be temporary. Wait until this wave of bad press
washes over.”

Harry laid his head back, conceding to all points. He was tired. He was angry. He did not want
to even move. The bitter helplessness tore at him. At Hogwarts, he was something great. He was
someone to be feared. Confined to the bed, Harry could not help but recall memories of being
stuffed in the cupboard underneath the stairs at Number Four Privet Drive.

*Stay calm, Potter. You've been through worse than this.*

He made a decision. “Blaise, take command for the time being. If Pomfrey wants me to rest, then
I'll rest. It might do some good to listen to Luna's advice after all.”

“Loony Lovegood?” Tracey asked incredulously.

“Same one,” Harry said.

He gave them a few more orders and directives then sent them on their way. The rest of the
Slytherins would have to get acclimated to Blaise's leadership. He would have preferred placing
Draco in command, but Malfoy was too competent in the field to stuff him in the Board Room. Harry
wondered if Snape would allow any concessions since Slytherin was a man down. Most likely not.

Glancing over at Madame Pomfrey, Harry found that she was prepping some potions. He flopped his
head back, awaiting his nemesis.

“You're going to need to drink these potions, Potter.”

*I'd rather jump out of this window and break both legs,* Harry thought angrily.
Instinctively shifting his body, Harry was surprised to find the bonds move. It was barely a
centimeter. He was unsure if it was real or imagined. Trying again, Harry grinned when his wrist
moved ever so slightly. He concentrated on the *Alohomora* spell. It was the only one remotely
associated with unlocking objects. He could move his wrist even further.

A grim smile was on his face when Pomfrey returned with the potions.

“Good to see you're in a better mood already. Usually, my patients pale at the sight of
these potions,” Pomfrey said.

Harry said nothing and drank.

*Grindelwald might have been useless without a wand, but I won't be.*

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Pomfrey discharged Harry the next day. She had explicit instructions to not participate in any
dueling and banned him from Battle class for two weeks. Giving him another regiment of daily
potions, Pomfrey threatened Harry with several unknown spells and potions should he participated in
any strenuous exercises.

When Harry stood up, he found his right knee was sore but much improved from the day before.
Pomfrey was turned away and the Hospital Wing was empty besides them. His cane was hanging on a
rung on one of the bedposts. He reached out his hand and said, “*Accio cane.”*

Dark brown wood flew through the air. He caught the cane deftly in his hand. The polished handle
was in his hand, the end on the ground, by the time Pomfrey turned around. He nodded to her and
departed the strange smelling room. The Hospital Wing was the bane of his existence.

The hallways were mostly empty. Harry did a quick check on his watch. It would be about twenty
minutes until they were to be released from the first class of the day. There was plenty of time to
make it back to the dormitories unimpeded. As he reached the atrium of the Great Hall, however,
Harry crossed paths with another Champion. Fleur Delacour and another Beauxbatons student were
walking towards the double doors of the entrance as Harry reached the bottom step. She smiled at
him and spoke in French to her friend. Her friend, yet another pretty girl from Beauxbatons, smiled
shyly at Harry as she proceeded towards the double doors and walked outside.

“Hello, Fleur,” Harry said as he approached her.

The beautiful half-Veela smiled down at him. Her face grew concerned at the sight of his limp
and his cane.

“I thought your knee was getting better, *non?*” Fleur asked.

“It was. Now it isn't. No one's doing. I just turned the wrong way and down I went
again.”

“It is a good thing there's quite some time before our Second Task then. The Yule Ball is
just a few weeks away as well. I was hoping for a dance with the great Harry Potter.” Her blue eyes
twinkled and Harry fought the urge to launch himself into her.

“How about more than just one dance? Would you like to go with me?” It was only partly fueled by
the Veela magic.

“Certainly not the most romantic of invitations, nor the most daring. Why, just the other day, I
had a young redhead around your Year stamme invitations to lunch, dinner, the Yule Ball, and our
wedding.”

“Did he have a lot of freckles? Kind of gangly?” Harry's grin went from ear to ear.

“Yes, a quite unfortunate time for most boys. Not yet a man but striving to be one. Sadly, I had
to turn him down in front of his friends. Oddly enough, I don't think he heard me decline the
offer.” Fleur shrugged. Could shrugs be cute? Hers certainly was.

“I assume I'm in better standing than him because I haven't heard a no so far.”

“And yet, you won't hear a yes from me either. I will consider it, so I think you should
consider yourself lucky to get that far.” Fleur winked at him.

“Well, I don't want to be put in the queue. A yes or no would suffice.”

She pretended to mull this over, posturing and making him wait. He could play the game. After
all, he had little else to do besides homework for the other classes. Maybe this forced rest would
be a good idea after all.

“It seems I do not know you very well. We have talked...*un, deux, trois…*three times?”
Fleur asked.

“Dates have been made with lesser conversations.”

“Yet, not this one. I don't know your schedule, but I have some free time before my next
tutoring session. Would you like to take a walk? At your pace of course…”

“As it happens, I am free. As you said, at my pace if we could?” Harry gestured towards his
cane. “Lead the way.”

Fleur smiled. “Strange. How is it that boys always want me to lead the way?”

As Harry looked at her backside, he found his answer.

The air was considerably colder now, but the sun made an appearance for the day. Clouds building
on the horizon promised it would not last long, so it was a good a time as any to walk besides the
lake towards the Beauxbatons chariots. Fleur kept a tortoise-like pace, lazily sweeping her feet
along the grass. Her blonde hair shimmered underneath the sun light and Harry had to regularly look
away lest he lose his mind completely and launch himself into her. He tried his best with
Occlumency but his mind was meant to deter attacks. Clearing it was still a task for him. It was
yet another list of things he added whenever he finally got to talk to Hermione.

Again, there were no other students outside. In the distance, he could see a few Beauxbatons
students practice duelling outside of the carriages with a private tutor watching. Harry tried to
see if Karim Tireur was one of them, but they were too far away for now. To his right, the Great
Lake rippled and splashed against the shore. It was strange to think that several hundred feet
below was Hermione's secret cave.

Mountains dotted the distance as well as one or two islands towards the middle of the lake.
Hogsmeade was across the way. A trip was scheduled to the little town about a week from now, so
students could pick up parcels that were too heavy for owls as well as dress robes that were
available. Harry still needed a set, but didn't want anything too fancy. Professor Slughorn
always made preparations for Harry's summer things, so he would have to ask the jumpy Potions
professor for some funds.

“So, what do I need to know if I were to attend the Yule Ball with you, Harry?” Fleur asked,
bringing him out of his thoughts.

Harry considered his answer. “You'll find that not a lot of people here like me. Since so
many people are enamored by you, we could balance it out if we went to the Ball together.”

Fleur laughed haughtily. “I think you will see that a similar amount of people dislike me as
well - just in different ways. You have the luxury of having those who hate you doing so openly. I
have to contend with snakes who want to be my friends and snakes who want to go elsewhere.”

“Snakes aren't the worst thing in the world, you know,” Harry said.

“I do believe you are a bit biased in this case.”

Harry chuckled. She was surprising light-hearted. Harry had heard she had a reputation of being
an ice queen, but so far, she was genial and frequently humorous. Of course, there were other
reasons than just the Yule Ball to have a moment to talk to her. Taking her to the Yule Ball
wouldn't hurt though. He would love to see everyone's face with her on his arm.

“Have you...heard anything about your friends who are not friends?” Harry asked cryptically.

She shook her head, blonde tresses skimming over her shoulders. “Let's not talk about that
right now. We were still learning about you.”

Harry exercised a little patience. “There's not really that much to know about me. I grew up
with some terrible Muggle relatives.. I came here and I have...excelled at it ever since.”

He wanted to say *loved it*, but was it really love? Harry enjoyed being at Hogwarts. Harry
enjoyed, or had enjoyed until this year, being around Tracey and Blaise. He liked the competition
and the constant duels. Was that love for a school? Harry didn't know.

“What do you do besides school?” Fleur asked, floating a pebble into the water with her
wand.

Harry thought for a moment and then laughed aloud. “That's a good question. I guess I
don't do much else. I hang around with my...friends.”

Even saying the word, *friends*, made Harry uncomfortable. He had not referred to them as
that in a long time. A frown crossed his face, the thoughts weighing heavily on him. Blaise had
come through for him in the Aristophanes crisis. It was more than Harry deserved after the way he
treated him, but he was glad Blaise was at his side again. Tracey, though...she had never left his
side.

“Is this Hermione Granger one of your friends?” Fleur asked.

Harry's eyebrows hit his hairline. He really shouldn't have been surprised. It was
plastered in front of the Daily Prophet and had been a topic of discussion for weeks on end. There
was no avoiding it, even for the students not of Hogwarts.

“No,” Harry answered. Until he convened with Hermione, he was convinced that letting anyone know
of their meetings was a mistake. “We've talked in between classes, but those articles are
rubbish.”

Fleur was silent for a moment, her beautiful face looking out over the lake. Then, she said, “I
know what it is like for the press to slander you. You touch a boy's hand and you have loved
him since the beginning of time. Someone takes you on a dance and you are betrothed the next day. A
Ministry official kisses your hand and you are their mistress. How I hate the press…”

As far as Harry was concerned, Fleur was the perfect woman.

She told him other things too. Her family lived in the Paris province but owned a chateau south
of the city. She had a little sister, Gabrielle, that she loved dearly. Her mother was the Veela
and her father the human. There were few people as honest and as noble as her father. It was why
Fleur's mother married her and decided to carry on an impure bloodline. The very mention of the
word *impure* brought an ugly expression to Fleur's normally gorgeous face. She was well
versed in horseback riding, dancing, and dueling. She was an accomplished dueler, second in the
school only to Karim.

“I hate that arrogant pig,” she said of the Beauxbatons boy.

“He seems to be taken with me,” Harry commented.

“Tread lightly, Harry. He is one of whom I spoke about in the Hospital Wing,” Fleur warned.

“One of? How many people in Beauxbatons hate me that much?”

“They don't hate you,” she corrected, giving him a sad look.

*They're jealous. Envious. Resentful.* Harry knew the type well.

They were nearing the carriages at this point. Harry had already heard the bell that let classes
out. Some of those on their free period would take the opportunity to go outside while there was
still a hint of that fall air. Their time alone would be cut short.

“Have you gotten to know me well enough?” Harry asked as they finally reached the carriages.

She smiled and leaned down. Fleur was about two or three inches taller than him. Hopefully, he
would grow. Her lips brushed against his cheek and Harry felt a thrill run through his body. Was it
the kiss or was it the Veela magic? It was hard to distinguish. That's what made them so damn
difficult.

“Yes,” she said.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

*Cave. Tonight. Bring Davis.*

Why would Hermione want to bring Tracey?

Oddly enough, that was the first question that popped into Harry's mind. No love was lost
between the two girls. Harry knew Hermione thought Tracey was not as advanced as they were. Harry
had an inkling of why Tracey didn't like Hermione but…

*Best not to think about that right now.*

He summoned her and informed Blaise they would be gone for an hour or two. Blaise instinctively
reached for an easy joke about them but paused at the glare on Harry's face.

“I'll keep an eye on everyone. I'll make sure no one decides to follow you, Com.”

Tracey was quiet during their short trip to the spot beneath the stairs where the entrance of
the cave would be. They huddled closely in the alcove that kept them out of sight and Tracey cast
the Disillusionment charm on them just in case. Harry was still forbidden to practice any magic
though how the Disillusionment charm could ever affect his knee was beyond comprehension. Still,
Tracey and Pomfrey insisted.

“How have you been?” Harry asked her. His conversation with Fleur had rankled him on how he had
treated his friends recently. No one could see his Commander persona down here.

She was surprised by his question. “Um...I've been good. Medical has been interesting, but I
like it. Draco's been a big help.”

“I'm surprised he's deemed you worthy enough to work with him. Then again, he has been
very helpful in Battle as well.”

“His parents hit him hard.”

Harry could understand that. Or could he? After all, he had never known his parents. Either way,
Malfoy was the better for it.

“And you?” she asked. “I haven't really gotten a chance to talk to you about the Granger
thing.”

Harry sighed. She was the last person he wanted to get into this conversation. Still, Hermione
had asked him to bring her along and Tracey had accepted without complaint. She deserved an
answer.

“We don't know who told Aristophanes. Blaise is looking into it. You know how he has his
little critters, but nothing so far. This is actually the first time Hermione's asked to
meet.”

“I've noticed you haven't done your disappearing act in the night as of late.”

“She operates on her schedule. That's why you're here. She asked for you.”

“It's just a cover,” Tracey said.

“How?”

“If both of you are still hiding your meetings, it would suspicious for both of you to disappear
in the middle of the night. It would only confirm the rumors. Disappear with me for an hour or two,
however, and…” Tracey trailed off, but Harry could hear the mocking tone in her voice even if he
couldn't see her face underneath the Disillusionment charm.

Harry's face burned red and he was glad for the charm. He tried to sputter out a response
but words failed him.

“I can't be that bad in your mind, can I?” Tracey teased, jabbing him with her elbow.

“Of course not. That's not what I - um - of course you are great but not like…”

Hermione had great timing. She saved him from an explaining his explanation. As she descended
the stairs, however, Harry found she was holding onto someone's arm.

“Harry?” Hermione called out.

Tracey removed the Disillusionment charm from the both of them and Cedric blinked in surprise as
the two Slytherins materialized out of thin air.

“You weren't joking about this being cloak and dagger business,” Cedric said.

“Unfortunately,” Hermione said.

She detached from his arm and patted it lightly. “Thanks for doing this, Cedric.”

“I got to walk around with a pretty girl on my arm. I should be thanking you.”

He was smooth. Harry would have to take lessons.

Cedric turned to Harry and gave him a wink. Then, he swiveled to Tracey and bowed in an
exaggerated manner. “Miss Davis, I don't think we've had the pleasure of being properly
introduced. I'm Cedric. Would you care to join me for a walk as I get to know you better?”

Tracey was amused. She brushed a pile of curly hair behind her ear and flashed a smile. “Why I
would love to.”

Tracey spared Harry an inquisitive look as she took Cedric's arm. Harry could only shrug.
This was not his plan. The Hufflepuff and Slytherin pair walked further into the dungeons. Harry
could hear Cedric teasing her about living in such a dank place. Tracey reminded him that they were
just one level above the Slytherins. Their voices escaped earshot in time.

“Cedric agreed to walk with me down here. There might be an article running in those terrible
excuses for journalism about a *romance.*” Hermione quoted the word in disgust. “But it's
better than what Aristophanes has been writing.”

“I know,” Harry said. “Tracey filled me in. Girls must think alike.”

“Girls have to live with other girls. Boys have the luxury of fighting each other face to face.
Girls deal with everything through sublimated aggression. It makes you paranoid.”

Hermione cast two Detection charms. Harry cast an *Homenum Revelio.* When they were both
satisfied that no one was lurking in the hallway, Hermione tapped the wall in key places to reveal
the entrance to the cave. It had been quite some time since he had been in there last. When they
arrived at the atrium, it was still bathed in an eerie blue. The three tables where Hermione and
Luna were testing the replications of the Board Room were still there. Hermione sat down heavily in
her chair, pulling at the short fringes of the back of her hair.

“I'm surprised Cedric went along with it,” Harry said as he sat down across from her.

“It came with a price. I'm attending the Yule Ball with him.” She tried to pretend like it
was a burden, but there was a lightness in her voice.

“So he told me,” Harry said. “He isn't the worst bloke in the world.”

“Quite agreed,” Hermione said. “He's been very helpful in researching the clues for the
Second Task. I thought he was more image than substance, but even I can be mistaken.”

“Infrequently, of course.”

She smiled tightly at that. “I'm sorry I haven't tried to contact you. It was enough to
convince Gryffindor that I had nothing to do with it. Unfortunately, you had to be my sacrificial
lamb. Told them how you probably leaked the article to get into my head.”

“And they believed that?” Harry scoffed.

“Enough of it, at least. Of course, everyone's been watching me like a hawk, especially
Lavender and Parvati. They're convinced I'm having a secret tryst with you. I didn't
even want to risk them finding the Sickle, so I had to charm it to look like a Galleon and keep a
Notice-Me-Not Charm on it all times.”

“Why is it that everyone thinks we're having trysts and sneaking about fooling around?”

Hermione shrugged. “That's what normal teenagers do. The truth of what we're actually
doing might frighten them.” She gestured at the three test tables. No doubt she was talking about
Legilimency, Occlumency, and *Fulminare* as well.

“Well, Slytherin hasn't gone the same route. The whole lot of them are likely to stab me
while I'm sleeping at this rate. Are you sure it wasn't Longbottom?” Harry asked, itching
to take a crack at the pudgy boy.

Hermione shook her head. “Definitely not. Neville would never be able to do that. He is…”

“...cowardly,” Harry finished. Hermione tightened her lips but didn't correct him.

“And you ruled out everyone on your side? I talked to Luna too,” she said.

“Blaise came to me with it first. Tracey wouldn't ever do that. I used a bit of Legilimency
on Justin. He didn't do it either unless he suddenly became a master Occlumens overnight.”

Hermione winced. “Necessary, I suppose. That should be all of it.”

“Blaise did make a point. Anyone that bothered noticing our disappearances or following us could
have found out.”

“I suppose, but I don't think so. The way Aristophanes wrote about some of the details was
troubling. She didn't know about the cave, but she knew enough to hurt your standing in
Slytherin. Who stands to gain from you falling in your Slytherin ranks?”

The list was too long to name. “Anyone. Everyone.”

Hermione tugged at her frayed locks again, deep in thought. “I suppose what's done is done.
I already made it clear that I haven't been meeting with you. If Gryffindor found out I was
lying, that would be the end of them cooperating in Battle class. A shame, just as I've started
getting an upper hand on you…”

Harry bristled. “I suppose you've gained a lot from this article. Gryffindor has solidified
for you. The Slytherins are falling apart under me.”

Hermione gave him an amused look. “I thought girls were supposed to be the paranoid ones,
Harry.”

Harry stood up, looking at the dark water above them. He limped across the cave towards the
shallow pool near the back. He imagined Justin below him, drowning as water filled his lungs.
That's what he wanted to do Aristophanes and the person who leaked his connection with
Hermione. Dark thoughts.

Hermione came to stand beside him.

“We could also just throw a wrench into everything and tell them we're friends,” she said
softly.

Harry glared at the water. He extended his hand and focused on bringing droplets of water
together. A ball of water detached from the shallow pool, rising and rising into Harry's hand.
He twirled it around and then dropped it unceremoniously on Hermione's head. Then, he laughed,
long and hard.

Hermione dried herself with a charm and waited patiently until Harry finished laughing. Leaning
on his cane heavily, he had almost fallen into the water. When he finally finished, he had to wipe
tears from his eyes.

“No,” he finally responded. “I can handle it. I'll just have to find a way to bring them
together again.”

She shook her head at him, but a smile was playing at the edge of her lips. “More wandless
magic? How lucky some of us are.”

“Pomfrey and Tracey say I shouldn't be performing any magic. Don't see how it could hurt
my knee though,” Harry said.

“Just a little bit of wandless magic. Not too hard,” she said, jealousy in her voice.

“Give it a try.”

Hermione bit her lip and her hand reached up to brush the back of her short crop. It was not a
good look on her. She extended her hand over the water, her face scrunched in concentration.
Nothing came to her. Reaching out with her wand hand, she conjured a ball of water and splashed it
into Harry's face. She didn't laugh like he did. Instead, Hermione looked at him with a
smug look on her face.

“No magic. Wouldn't want to go against the Healer's orders,” she reminded him.

He wiped it off his face and played along, letting it dry.

Hermione returned to the table and started writing in her journal. “We're going to have to
do this if we want to keep on meeting. You don't have to take Tracey all the time, but I
imagine if you took anyone else, they would start some other rumors as well. Just make sure
you're not followed here.”

“Of course.”

“Good.” She flipped several pages in her notebook and beckoned him over.

“Cedric and I were talking more about the riddle from the egg. We didn't glean everything
from it, but I have a pretty good idea of what they want us to do.”

Harry read the notebook over her shoulder. There were several annotations along the written
song. Along the side were scribbles in shorthand that he couldn't read. At the bottom of the
page was more detailed explanations. Harry couldn't make out most of it.

Hermione continued, “We've established that we will be searching for something. I am more
and more certain that we will be searching not for an object but for a person.”

“They don't mean to put someone else into the tournament - do they?” Harry asked.

“It wouldn't be the first time. What else could this line mean? *The ones who come first
in your mind.* It has to be a person. More likely, it has to be several people.”

“That's ridiculous,” Harry said.

“It gets worse.” Hermione bit her lip and ran a hand down her face. “We have also established
that we will not be fighting underwater. The voice is from the Merpeople, of course, but the line
states: *Underneath you'll never win.* But why include the Merpeople then? It has to be
some sort of water-based activity. Then, Cedric started complaining about the cold and it hit
me…”

Hermione looked up. Harry tried to think with her. Yes, the water was cold, but that was too
stupid to even consider. It was something else. Harry tried to remember the last few lines of the
song. *Be careful do not fear the cold.* The lake would be cold during winter, but that
wasn't it. *Take your time watch where you walk.* It would be a treacherous path. *One
false step sink like a rock.* Harry continued to look up through the glass.

“Oh.”

Harry reached up with his cane, balancing on his good, left leg. He tapped the glass with the
cane and the sound echoed in the cave. The realization came to him. The riddle was rather simple
after all. The implications however…

“If the First Task was about fire, then the Second Task should be…” Hermione trailed off as she
continued to look up at the vast depth of the lake.

“Ice.”

* * * * * * * * * * *

“It was a mistake to let that reporter into Hogwarts. I wanted nothing to do with that wretched
Skeeter woman, but it appears all writers are made of the same cloth.”

“The press will always seek to tear down those who climb too high. The boy was bound to
encounter this as well.”

“Well, he has not been reacting well. The duels are not always fought with wands.”

“Give him time. We have trained him excessively for besting those in combat. It will take time
for him to adjust to a much more treacherous enemy; someone he can't just beat into
submission.”

“I have half a mind to shut them out altogether.”

“That is the price we pay for the positions we are in. Rather, the position you are in.”

“Gloat all you want. It is harming the boy's progress.”

“He will learn. We were all green once when it came to matters of the press. More disconcerting
is that his friend has taken up cause against him. We have stepped in before. We can help the boy
again.”

“No. Do you think the Dark Lord lets others handle betrayal in his ranks? The boy will have to
deal with it when he finds out. How he responds will be a matter of whether or not he can
discipline those who step out of line.”

“A tentative balance that he must be struck. Whip too hard and they will grow resentful. Soft
words and they will grow bolder. Have you spoken to Pomfrey?”

“His knee is vexing. I had her scan for any curses or jinxes, but she insists it is just normal
bodily repair. Of course, I had to consent to her barring him from participating in Battle. That
woman has never liked me.”

“Nor should she have reason to. She has seen his scars.”

“Something that could not be hidden forever. The House Elf that monitors them in the cave has
also informed me of another display of wandless magic from the boy. He grows more powerful.”

“Indeed, his power has increased exponentially since the beginning of this year. It has caused a
bit of curiosity if I am being honest. Such a power surge isn't unheard of, but it is
strange…”

“We tested it ourselves. The younger we trained, the higher their capacity was by the time they
graduated. Magical growth during this period of time has always coincided with bodily growth. The
magical maturity at this rate is much more volatile than any other period of their lives. The
growth they sustain here will lead to stronger wizards and witches.”

“Yes, true. We saw that during previous classes. Still, altering the elements wandlessly is no
small feat. It might be time for more private lessons.”

“No. Not this year. Not while there are so many others around. The time will come to reveal
yourself. Never earlier.”

“I am not so sure. I am growing weaker. Magic fades from me. It might be that all I have for the
young boy are words in the end.”

“Would it be that you could offer him anything else. You destroyed that chance years ago.”

“Have pity on me. These are likely my last days.”

“Tell that to Flamel, who destroyed the Elixer, and came here just so he could teach the boy.
Tell that to Lily, who died protecting him. Tell that to the men and women who died destroying the
Dark Lord's Horcruxes. Nobody held pity for them.”

“So many…”

“The Dark Lord *will* die and I will have no pity for him.”

* * * * * * * * * *

**A/N: Missed the time frame by a little bit but…**

**Projected Update Time: 5 days**
 Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7
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40. One False Step
------------------



The castle was falling apart. Brick by brick, it crumbled into pieces. The base of the Astronomy
tower imploded, hurtling chunks of debris sky high. In the center of it all, Hermione was
screaming, her hands clapped over ears. Red eyes. A high hiss. A car crashing. Snow. Snow.
Snow.

“Hermione! Hermione!”

Lavender Brown was shaking her. Hermione wished the girl would stop screaming. When her brain
finally woke up, Hermione realized she was the one screaming. Lavender looked at her worriedly,
brushing back her curly, blonde hair. She was a pretty girl, round faced and wide eyed. Her curvy
physique was already attracting males of her age and older. Hermione brushed Lavender's hands
away from her shoulders and sat up.

The back of her gown was soaked in sweat. The sparse bangs clung to her forehead. Her heart was
beating loudly. She could see it thumping underneath the skin of her chest. Parvati was also awake,
standing next to Lavender. Fay and Rionach were peeking out from behind their drapes. Hermione took
a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself down.

“I'm fine,” she said.

“Like bloody hell you're fine,” Lavender said. “You may think its a load of bollocks but my
book, *Divining Dreams*, has nothing good to say about nightmares that make you scream in the
middle of the night. What's wrong, Hermione? Is it...is it...Potter? Has he done something to
you?”

Hermione groaned, flopping back into her sweat ladened sheets. Lavender scurried over, sitting
on her bedside. Parvati inched forward. Fay and Rionach were now sitting upright. They could never
pass up the opportunity to grill her about Harry ever since the Aristophanes article. Hermione
checked the time. Four in the morning. None of them should have been awake.

“I've heard he can read minds. Maybe he's gotten into yours?” Parvati asked.

“He has not. It was a bad dream. That was all,” Hermione said with a finality.

“A bad dream is being naked in front of the classroom. You were about to wake up the whole
castle if I didn't wake you up. I had to make sure you didn't have your wand in your hand
too,” Lavender said.

Hermione didn't want to play this card, but she wanted to be rid of them.

“It was about my parents, okay?”

The tittering stopped.

Lavender nodded sympathetically and patted her hand while Parvati shuffled her feet, not meeting
Hermione's eyes. Fay and Rionach did their best to slink back into bed. Hermione felt a pang of
guilt for using her dead parents as an excuse, but it wasn't that far from the truth. Her
parents were part of the nightmare. *Leave the past in the past.*

“If you ever need to talk…” Lavender gave Hermione her big, doe eyes. Hermione nodded tightly,
not trusting her mouth to cooperate with her mind.

They left her alone, letting her draw the drapes around the bed again. Hermione tried to go back
to sleep, but her eyes remained open. It was the same pattern as of late. A dream would wake her up
and that was all the sleep she would have for the day. The still made no sense to her. Even if
Lavender was a complete nitwit, she was right; recurring dreams were never a good sign.

She was not allowed solitary in breakfast either. Almost as soon as she sat down, Cedric took up
the seat across from her. A spoon of soup was halfway to her mouth when she spotted him. He was
wearing that easy grin that was always on his face. Hermione didn't know why. Hogwarts was not
conducive to smiles.

“I talked to everyone else. They all agree. We'll be looking for people and we're going
to be fighting on ice. As far as I know, we've figured it out faster than the other schools. If
we can draw up some plans, we have a good shot at taking this task,” Cedric said it all in a
rush.

“It's five thirty in the morning. Why are you awake?” Hermione said slowly.

“Why are you awake?” He threw back at her. “I couldn't sleep! Too excited once I realized
what we're going to be fighting. We'll be better prepared this time. No nonsense like the
dragons. I thought we could go over some ideas before classes start.”

He was highly driven. Hermione would give him that.

“Let me finish breakfast. We can start looking things up after that.”

He frowned when he saw how sluggish she was moving. Cedric asked, “Is everything okay? You look
a bit peaked.”

*You would too if you constantly had dreams about Hogwarts exploding. I need to talk to Harry
about this. So many damn things to do.*

“I'm fine,” she responded.

She thought that Cedric would be a burden, but he clearly knew his tactics. Hermione was
reminded of why he was so popular not just amongst Hufflepuffs but other non-Slytherin Houses as
well. He spoke excitedly about setting traps and what spells should be used. Great points were made
about the types of transfigurations would work best with snow and ice and water. He did his best to
include the various skills and account for the weaknesses of the rest of the Champions.

Hermione was impressed.

They agreed to meet after classes to discuss the viability of reforming ice into shield mirrors.
It was a good idea but it would have to be tested. Cedric was speaking of transfigurations above
her grade level, but Hermione felt confident she could master them. Transfiguration was one of her
stronger subjects. It required discipline and an adherence to technicalities. No wonder Harry's
transfigurations were often only halfway completed.

Harry still had a week left to recover from his knee injury. She understood Pomfrey's
hesitation to let Harry back into Battle class. True, there were still weeks where Snape would work
in individual duels but more often than not, the leaders were sent to the Board Room to command.
Blaise had taken over command for the Slytherins, but he was easy to figure out.

He was competent but predictable. Blaise did not think in wild attacking vectors and suicide
runs like Harry. He moved the pieces stoggedly. Three people go to a certain area and shoot
Stunners. Split up the rest and use their shields when necessary. He could not think up advanced
moves like meat shields or transfiguring objects for distractions. Gryffindor won another round as
Lavender Brown disarmed Terry Boot to finish the Ravenclaws.

Hermione met Cedric in the library afterwards. He was already there, reading through a book
titled, *Transfiguration As An Art*. He looked up and smiled as she sat next to him. The other
side of the table was littered with books. Hermione took out her journal as well as some selected
reading of her own. She still had the book, *The Blood of Creatures*, as she researched more
about Veelas. Hermione also retrieved two transfiguration books that were above her year.

“I talked to Harry. He said he would come up with some ideas and bring it to the table whenever
we call another meeting. Bright lad, that one. He's bound to come up with some devilish,”
Cedric said.

“Don't give him too much credit. He's just as likely to shoot himself in the face,”
Hermione muttered as she flipped through pages.

“With his wand?” Cedric asked.

Hermione waved it off. “Muggle idiom.”

Cedric looked like he wanted to inquire more but stopped himself. Instead, he said, “I know I
agreed to do a favor, no questions asked, if you said yes about the Ball. Still, you can't
blame me for wondering what that was all about the other night with Harry.”

“*Voce Molli.*” Hermione immediately cast. It was a spell to deter any nearby
eavesdroppers. Anyone who came within their radius would hear a soft murmur as if they were
whispering. They wouldn't be able to hear them unless they were standing within the recommended
five foot radius.

“That secretive?” Cedric asked.

“You saw the Prophet,” Hermione said darkly.

“Makes me think the Prophet is true in some regard then.”

He was trustworthy enough. That handsome face was earnest and he had already escorted her to
meet with Harry. Was there a probability of subterfuge? Yes. *Give a little and they will want
more. Give it all and that's all they expect.* It was a saying her mother often
repeated.

“Harry and I are friends. We have a mutual...desire to win. I don't see the point of
limiting myself to learning from teachers and people in my own House. He's the best in our year
and don't *ever* - and I mean *ever* - let him know I said that.” Hermione jabbed her
finger into his shoulder for emphasis.

Cedric pretended like her finger hurt and rubbed his shoulder. “I know Gryffindor and Slytherin
don't like each other, but is all of that really needed? Do you guys have some sort of
classroom you meet in?”

“We meet in all sorts of places,” Hermione lied. “I wish it wasn't necessary, but the
Slytherins hate me. They've gotten to the point where they were rebelling against Harry's
orders in Battle class just at the mere hint of association with me. I'm Muggleborn. I'm a
Gryffindor. I'm better than all of them. I consider myself fortunate that they don't
antagonize me more when I'm in the hallways. Malfoy used to, but ever since his father was sent
to Azkaban, he's been a little more mellow.”

If she gave him what sounded like plenty of information, he would have less questions to ask.
Cedric would assume she was being open and honest. Her mother's voice repeated the phrase in
her head but she shook it out. Already, there was a tendril of longing and nostalgia creeping into
her heart but she smashed it down. *Leave the past in the past.*

“Bloody Houses can be a pain sometimes.” Cedric nodded in understanding.

“If I told the Gryffindors that Harry wasn't the next Dark Lord, they wouldn't believe
me.”

“You mean to say he's not?” Cedric exclaimed.

Hermione flicked her wand and created a paper airplane with a blank page from her journal. She
banished it towards Cedric, pelting him in the forehead. “Prat.”

Cedric laughed and a First Year looked at them curiously as he walked by. Hermione realized that
the First Year must have seen Cedric throw his head back in laughter and heard but nothing but a
soft whisper. She cancelled the *Voce Molli* charm.

“So is any other parts of the article true? Are you and Harry carrying on secret trysts?” Cedric
winked at her and taunted her with a mocking tone, but she saw right through it. Boys were so
simple sometimes. They tried to misdirect and disguise their questions, but Hermione knew what
Cedric was really asking. *Have you and Harry snogged each other senseless?*

“No. The Prophet will be disappointed to find nothing exciting happens. That is my official
comment.”

Cedric accepted that answer.

By the time Pince started calling for students to check out their books, they actually drew up
some sound ideas to practice. It would have to be in secret, away from prying eyes. Cedric was
profound at assessing strengths and weaknesses, even going so far as to glean any pros and cons of
the individual Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students. She appreciated his gusto.

They gathered their books. Hermione had to double check which were hers. Normally, she owned the
whole table. She was unaccustomed to sharing. Her mother had always wanted a second child, but
there were pregnancy issues after Hermione and they attempted to conceive after that. *I suppose
that's not an issue anymore.*

“Is this yours?” Cedric asked.

Hermione plucked *The Blood of Creatures* out of his hand. “Yes.”

Cedric raised his eyebrows but said nothing more. At least he knew the valors of discretion.

“Are you excited for the Yule Ball?”

Excited was the wrong word for it. Hermione was looking forward to seeing the decorations and
general fanfare of the Yule Ball. She was an adequate dancer, so she was not worried about. But she
didn't obsess over pages and pages of dresses and dress robes in the magazines that Lavender
and Fay fought over. Hermione had already picked her outfit weeks before and had it sent by owl
post. Some of the more delicate dresses had to be picked up in person, but Hermione had picked a
low maintenance dress for the occasion.

“No, I can't say I'm excited.” Hermione decided to be honest with him. “But I will be
looking forward to seeing how the Great Hall turns out.”

“I hope you can dance otherwise I'll have to find another date,” he joked.

“I perform admirably,” she said sarcastically. What he said prompted a question from her. “Why
did you ask me, Cedric? There's a lot of other girls that would have loved to go with you.”

It might have not been the right place or time to ask him that, but the question had been
gnawing Hermione ever since he surprised her with his proposal. She remembered boys in grade school
that would come up to her pretending to start a conversation only for another to prank her while
she was distracted. Determined not to fall folly to that sort of trap again, she waited patiently
for his answer.

“You are different. I don't mean that in a bad way!” Cedric interrupted the head of steam
she was already gathering. “I just meant that as soon as I talked to you, you were interesting. You
tackled problems a different way. You're funnier than you think you are. Other girls, you know,
they talk but they're never really saying anything. When you say something, I know you mean
it.”

Hermione tried to stamp out the rush of warmth to her chest. Feelings clouded judgement.

“So you don't mind this?” Hermione tugged at the frayed ends of her short crop. “Don't
mind people making fun of you for going to the Yule Ball with me?”

Cedric shrugged, giving her a lazy smile. “Let them. I'll see them in Battle clas
eventually.”

*He's smooth.* *Well played,* Hermione conceded.

“Acceptable?” Cedric asked, the twinkle in his eye again.

“I'll go with Exceeds Expectations. You'll have to try harder for Outstanding.”

Cedric laughed. “Can I give you a kiss? Perhaps you can grade that as well.”

It would be her first kiss. What better place to have it than in the library? She nodded, trying
to pretend her hands weren't shaking. He leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips. She
didn't know what she was supposed to do exactly. Her arms were wrapped around *The Blood of
Creatures*, holding the book tightly against her chest. Both of his were on her shoulders. When
he pushed gently with his lips and tilted the angle, she responded in kind by shifting with him.
*Where is my nose supposed to go?*

Hermione settled into the kiss, letting it go for about a minute. She finally pulled back,
annoyed that her heart was beating so fast. It was unlike her to lose control like that. Cedric
looked at her expectantly.

“Well?” he asked.

Hermione waited for a moment and couldn't prevent the grin from forming on her face.

“Good night, Cedric.”

She abruptly turned around, grabbed her bag, and left. Hermione could hear him laughing behind
her. Pince would no doubt have his ear for making so much noise. Luckily, the librarian had not
seen the kiss. Hermione had to give the Hufflepuff credit. He was consistent.

*He can't keep getting Exceeds Expectations forever.*

* * * * * * * * * *

Harry nervously tested his knee.

“Feels okay,” he said.

Pomfrey's eyes narrowed at that.

“We shall see.”

He ran through a gauntlet of tests. Jumping. Running. Stretching. Kicking. Harry went through
all of the tests without feeling a smidgen of pain in his right knee. For once, it seemed fully
healed. After the last test, Pomfrey took Harry's cane in her hand and examined it. She grasped
the smooth handle and whacked him right in the knee.

“Boody f…” Harry trailed off, the curses running wild through his head.

“Does it hurt?” she asked, tapping the cane against the ground.

“Of course it hurts!”

“Does it hurt when you move?” Pomfrey repeated coldly.

Harry went through the movements again. He squatted. He knelt on one knee. He jumped. He turned
quickly. He leaned to one side. He ran in place. He twirled in a circle. There was no pain.

“I think...I think it's okay,” Harry said, the relief evident.

“See what a bit of rest can do for you?”

Harry neglected to mention the wandless magic he had been performing during this imposed time of
rest. His skills were improving. It still took the utmost concentration. Any stray thought and the
spell would fail immediately, but it took less and less every time. Many nights he would stay up
late in his bed, juggling various levitated objects through the air.

“With that, I will inform the headmaster that you are able to participate in the full range of
activities,” Pomfrey said with a sigh at the end.

“Brilliant,” Harry said.

Before he left, Pomfrey stopped him by placing her hand on his arm. He looked at her curiously.
She never touched a student unless they were her patient. He was supposed to be dismissed.

“See to it that I don't see you here again soon. I know you will do little to heed my
warning, but the more I heal you, the more your body becomes resistant to that type of magic. You
are not indestructible, Mr Potter.”

“Believe me, the last place I want to be is here. No offense, of course.”

“None taken.” She released him.

Battle class was in five minutes and it would mark his return. He half-ran to the Room of
Requirements, excitement bubbling under his skin. He never thought that he would anticipate
returning to Battle class, yet he couldn't deny the rush of the battle. Rounding the corner, he
found the others waiting for him.

If he expected applause upon his return, he would have been sorely disappointed. In the past two
weeks, Slytherin had lost all seven of the Board Room competitions, placing last in three of them.
Of course they were one person down. Of course that one person was their best dueler. Still, the
losses stung when they were accustomed to winning.

As he approached the Fourth Year Slytherins, they simply made a gap in their circle to
accommodate him. No one clapped. No one cheered. It was a far cry from when the whole of Slytherin
gathered to congratulate him for his part in the First Task. Harry banished any bitterness from his
heart. He was here to win.

“Everyone ready to win again?”

The question was supposed to prompt confidence and rejuvenate them, but they just looked at
Harry wearily. Nott and Parkinson, in particular, still had dark looks on their faces. Harry
accepted that. They still had not forgiven him no matter how many times he denied any connection
with Hermione. Winning, though, had a way of excusing past offenses, real or imagined.

“Yes, Commander,” Tracey said.

*I have to find a very nice Christmas gift for her,* Harry thought.

“We're glad you're back, Com,” Blaise said earnestly.

Harry nodded. They were playing their parts well. The three of them had talked it over in the
Common Room. Who should say what. Who the troublesome people were. It felt like things the way they
were before this year. Harry actually laughed at some of Blaise's jokes and Tracey was cheery
instead of despondent for once. Maybe there could be different faces.

Snape came around the corner. He was in an angry mood. His face was pulled into a deep scowl. If
ever there was a man that needed a Pepper Up Potion, it was Snape. Harry averted his eyes as Snape
scanned over the students.He had not forgotten the headmaster.

“Four lines. No Board Room,” he hissed.

Harry rubbed his hands excitedly at the prospect. It had been ages since he actually had to
participate in the actual fight. The majority of his time had been dedicated to managing from the
Board Room. He knew he was more effective when he got to fight alongside the rest of his
Housemates.

They Houses formed into four lines and Snape escorted them into the Room of Requirements one
group at a time. Gryffindor went first. They might have blamed him for the Aristophanes article,
but none of them dared to meet his eyes. Slytherin followed them. Hufflepuff and then Ravenclaw
would follow the rest.

As Harry walked through the door, the familiar disorientation blinded him temporarily. When he
regained his senses, the sky was dark and littered with stars. Harry tried to get a gauge of his
surroundings. They were in the middle of a wide road. Residential houses were on either side of
them. The houses were of an older time. Even in the dark, Harry could see the painted windows and
wood paneling. There were hard lines between each brick, a style that made it obvious this
neighborhood wasn't modern.

“I know this place,” Harry said to himself.

But he could not place from where.

“Black and Green to the right. Take up the houses and stay on different floors. Silver with
me.”

Perhaps his physical presence brought a sense of familiarity with the Slytherins. For once, they
did not disobey him. Black and Green dashed into the house on the right. Harry followed Silver to
the left. Ordering Daphne, Nott, and Sadie to barricade the doors and entrances with spells, Harry
left them to climb to the ceiling. Height always held advantages. He cast a Disillusionment Charm
on himself before he climbed up. It would be no use to get caught so early in the match.

Dark skies covered the horizon. Harry could scarcely see thirty feet in front of him. Lights
dotted the landscape, however, giving him some point of reference. There was an eerie familiarity
about this place, but Harry did not recognize any of the landmarks. It was a small town, with a
river running through the east side and grassy plains covering the rest. He climbed higher until he
was perched against the chimney. How did Snape think of these places?

A flash of light caught his attention. To the west, sparks were flying in the air. It was about
six or seven blocks over. Yet, Harry had no way of knowing the source of these spells. The houses
were of nearly the same elevation and it cut off his sight lines. Omnioculars would be helpful.
Cedric had said something about being able to bring materials and instruments in later years, but
for now, the only thing they brought into Battle class was their wands.

Harry focused.

The east was a river running north and south. It cut off the town at that edge. It would be a
useful backdrop should they need to retreat. Crossing the river and taking them from behind would
attract the eye and no one could Apparate. Harry guessed they were in the southeastern quadrant of
this sleepy, little town. Snape must have had a vivid imagination. Every building was different,
decorated with shrubbery and lawn furniture. Gates and fences bordered most houses, some wood and
some stone. To the west, there was a two story house with all of the lights illuminated.

*I know that place.*

“Commander.” A voice hissed up to him.

“Speak,” Harry ordered.

Sadie Baldock's face poked out of a window. She was a slight girl with dark hair and narrow
eyes. Her face was always impassive, betraying nothing. Sadie blended into the wall and Harry knew
nothing of her personality. She was an able fighter though.

“Movement. People moving across the street to the north of us,” she said.

Harry hadn't spotted them, distracted by the bright house to the west. He shifted, careful
not to move too much. His right knee, fully healed, was bent underneath his body. Supporting his
weight with his hands, Harry peered into the darkness, trying to spot movement. There was nothing.
Nothing but the darkness ahead of him and the light to the west. Were they moving towards the river
at the east or away from it?

*Time to find out.*

*“**Lostrego!”*

A brilliant green lightning bolt covered the sky. Harry made sure to aim it to the north,
draping the surrounding area in a sickly green light. They would react or hide. Harry hoped for the
former. He was not disappointed. A ripple moved across the street. To the untrained eye, it might
have looked like a glimmer in the darkness, but Harry could spot the tell tale signs of a
Disillusionment Charm. Harry held his arm out in front of him, aiming his wand carefully.

*“**Stupefy.”* He said it quietly. The body fell in silence.

Spells had a range, Harry had discovered early on. If someone expected to cast a spell over the
length of a Quidditch pitch, he had to have the most utmost concentration and skill with it.
Fortunately for Harry and most of the Hogwarts students, he had cast *Stupefy* so many times
that he could reach the unknown enemy with it.

The Disillusionment Charm would come off the student now. Harry squinted, but he could not see
the color of the badge. The sprawling hair told Harry it was a girl, but it was too dark and she
was too far away. Harry could see movement in the windows of the house that Black and Green were
in. He was annoyed himself. They should have known to put Disillusionment Charms on if they
weren't fighting.

*“**Homenum Revelio.”*

*I know that voice.*

Harry lifted the Disillusionment Charm and scrambled behind the chimney. Two Reductors smashed
into the space he occupied. *That would have been two broken ribs.* He was on the point of the
house, the tiles slanting in each direction. His footing was unsure. More spells blasted against
the chimney. Brick and mortar flew into the air. Harry controlled himself. There would be a
lull.

The spells stopped.

Harry ran.

Balancing on the tips of his toes, Harry sprinted for the edge of the house and leapt, intending
to cast a Cushioning Charm on the way down.

He crashed against an invisible barrier. He stepped the wrong and lost his flitting. The roof
was like smooth marble as he slid down the western side of it. A loose tile flew into the air and
Harry transfigured it quickly, focusing on a hook. It wasn't perfect and it wasn't metal,
but the hook did its job. Harry grabbed it out of the air and slammed it against the roof. Gripping
tight, the hook held as it found purchase.

*I hate her.*

It was a ward.

Wards were above their year. How could Hermione have erected one around the house without him
knowing? How could Hermione create a ward at all? It required planning and advanced knowledge. He
had no time to ponder. The house erupted underneath him, the walls vibrating as spell fire shook
the foundation.

“*Lostrego! Lostrego! Lostrego!”*

Harry fired the signals into the air until the sky was a vivid green. Black and Green had no
time to waste. They poured of the second house. Draco was behind Millicent and Goyle, firing
indiscriminately against the windows while they protected him with large shields. Hermione sprung
her trap.

The wooden fenced roared to life, twisting into life like arms as it swept away Millicent.
Malfoy adjusted and transfigured the wooden fence into water. It splashed around him and he grabbed
Goyle's robes roughly, spinning him in a tight circle as a two Stunners crashed into
Goyle's shields.

*They're fast. Far too fast.*

.Could they have improved so much in two weeks? It was hard to tell, but Harry never remembered
Gryffindor moving with such ferocity. He was still pinned on the roof. Reductors and
*Bombardas* were breaking it apart, but Harry was on the other side of the two enemies.
Leaning over the edge, he saw Blaise charging into the house. The tall boy bounced against an
opening, physically thrown back.

“The house is warded! Granger's inside!” Harry yelled at him from the roof.

*But how to break the ward?*

From what little Harry knew about wards, they had to be tied to an artefact. No one person could
ward a whole building for an extended time. The amount of magic it took to erect such a ward would
sap a person's strength in mere seconds. Yet, an artefact with the proper runes and
incantations could hold it for an indefinite amount of time. That had to mean the artefact was on
Hermione's person. She had to be inside the house.

“Hold them off,” Harry ordered Blaise.

Blaise joined Tracey, who was busy dueling Parvati Patil. Harry pointed his wand down.

*“**Reducto!”*

The ground gave way beneath him. Harry made sure to cast a Cushioning Charm on the way down
though he could see little with the debris flying around him. Pomfrey would chop both of his knees
off if he injured it again. Mercifully, he landed softly. A *Protego* shield went up right
away and not too soon. Red splashed against the shield as he blocked a Stunner. Harry fired back
with a Stunner of his own but found his vision lacking. It was pitch black inside the house without
any light. Spells whizzed through the air, but Harry had no way of knowing whether or not he hit
someone. He could see Ron Weasley's face through his blue *Protego*, but it flickered and
they were plunged into darkness again.

*Enough.*

*“**Fulminare!”*

The spell jumped through the air, illuminating everything and catching anything in its path.
Daphne was struck by it first and it flowed through her to Weasley. Around and around it went,
stunning everything in its path and casting a bright light. Last was Hermione. Harry could see
something glowing around her neck. She ripped it off and threw it in the air. His spell snatched
the artefact and his ears exploded.

The windows shattered and there was an almighty snap as a structural beam gave way. Daphne and
Weasley's body disappeared in an instant. *A Portkey*, Harry blearily thought. That meant
immediate danger. Another support beam groaned and Harry forced his feet to move to the closest
exit. Jumping through, Harry was relieved to find that not even Hermione was suicidal enough to
hold the ward inside a collapsing building. Most likely, the ward was the glowing object around her
neck. She was up to her clever tricks again.

“For fuck's sake,” Blaise said as he hauled Harry up. “What the hell did you do in
there?”

“Blame Granger,” Harry muttered, looking around for any signs of life.

Anybody that was underneath the house before it collapsed would have been Portkeyed away at this
point. Sadie was still here, her usually emotionless face gawping at the collapsed house. Draco and
Tracey came around the corner, wands in their hands.

“Got everyone else?” Harry asked, trying to assess the situation.

“Goyle went down, but we took care of four Gryffindors,” Tracey said.

“She's making a habit of almost killing herself.” Draco surveyed the structural carnage with
cool, gray eyes.

Harry counted three Gryffindors inside the house before it collapsed. “Two of them at the most.
All but finished.”

“Don't count her out. She's come back from worse,” Tracey warned him.

They moved west towards the illuminated house. Millicent, Goyle, Nott, and Greengrass were
eliminated which left the six other slytherins. After much thought, he divided them into teams of
two. Harry partnered with Tracey. Draco and Sadie were together. Blaise and Pansy forming up the
rear. Quietly they moved, casting Disillusionment Charms and covering each other as they navigated
the sleepy town. Twice they heard noises not that far off. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were near.

Harry and Tracey crept through the brush of a nearby house, using the side of the dwelling as
cover. They were close. Harry could hear them. As they rounded the corner, Harry spotted the
illuminated house.

The illuminated house was guarded by a low, brick wall. There was a gap in the front where a
gate was supposed to be. Four large windows filled the face of the house. A long, rectangular door
barred the entrance. There was a familiarity about this house. The lights seemed queer. The shadows
were too long. Yet, Harry was drawn to this hollow.

A green lightning bolt flew into the air. Harry glanced at his sigil, but he was drawn to the
house. Tracey tugged on his sleeve and he blinked. He was standing in front of the long,
rectangular door.

“Harry! What's going on with you?!” Tracey had her wand out and another green lightning bolt
was in the sky. They were in trouble.

“The house. I know this house…” Harry murmured.

Tracey squared herself and said a strange spell. *“Finite Incantatem!”*

It did nothing.

The shrill scream shattered his skull. Where was it coming from? Tracey was saying something to
him, but he couldn't hear her. Harry fell to the ground, clutching his head. Something wet
trickled down his nose.

Then, he was here but not there. He was in a house but not this house. He was in this room but
not in the right place. There was a man and not a man. There was a flash of green and a wail. A
scream and a hiss. Then, someone was crying and crying, weeping tears that went unheard.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Will you do it?”

Blaise Zabini looked at Pansy Parkinson and Theodore Nott. Cretins, the both of them. Oh, they
might belong to ancient families, but they were sniveling parasites. Blaise knew plenty about the
both of them. Pansy had lost her virginity at the age of twelve to Malfoy. Blaise wasn't
against that sort of thing. He was against the way Pansy would proudly shame Daphne Greengrass for
having sex during the summer before Fourth year with an older Slytherin. The kettle was blackest of
them all. Theodore Nott's great secret was not one of his own making. His family was broke,
living on laurels of the past. An absent husband and a greedy wife would do that.

“No.” Blaise swiftly opened. If they wanted his help, they would have to come begging. “What
you're proposing is ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous?!” Pansy said breathlessly. “You saw Potter out there! He completely lost it. Tracey
defends him because the stupid bint is in love with him, but he was bleeding from the forehead and
crying out for his Mum. He's gone crazy since the beginning of the year.”

“She's right,” Nott said. “All of this commander nonsense has been stupid from the start.
Yeah, he's good. No one can deny that, but all the power has gone to his head. He's drunk
with it. I can barely scratch my arse without Potter telling me I've stuck my finger up too
far.”

They were in the Slytherin girl's dormitory. It was the only place where Harry was sure not
to have eyes and ears. Tracey was out, so she couldn't rat on them. Blaise sat in an alcove,
pondering their proposition.

“There's precedent,” Pansy insisted. “Ravenclaw booted out Terry and replaced him with Padma
Patil. Obviously, it *can* be done.”

“Just because it *can* be doesn't mean it *should* be. Do you know what you're
asking?”


They didn't. They had no way of knowing how strong Harry really was. They saw him in Battle
class, restrained but efficient. Terry had seen him at his worst, almost drowning Justin on that
forsaken night. Still. Still…

*“**We -”* Nott emphasized, “- are asking for a change. We did much better when you
were Commander!”

Blaise remembered differently. They didn't win a single match when he had replaced Harry. It
only took two matches for Blaise to realize that he was severely outmatched by Granger and even the
two other Board Room leaders. He did his best, trying to remember every parcel of advice Harry had
ever given him. It was not enough. Yet, Nott and Pansy seemed to remember it different. Perhaps it
was because they didn't have Harry threatening them at every turn.

“This is stupid. Harry will lock us all up in a room for even entertaining a thought.” Blaise
stood up from his seated position in the alcove with the ledge. Nott stood in front of him and
Blaise gave him an amused look of surprise.

“We won't fight for him again,” Nott said.

“That's just two of you. Harry will find a way around that,” Blaise countered.

“It's not just two of us. It's all of us except for Tracey,” Pansy said.

*That* was a surprise.

“Even Malfoy?” Blaise asked. The blond and Tracey had grown close in recent months. The latter
would not take the news well.

“He said he would do it if you would do it, but no one else,” Nott revealed.

*Always the git,* Blaise thought.

Blaise looked at the door, wondering whether or not Harry could hear them from his dormitory.
Surely not. Then again, all it took was one Legilimency spell to break up this ruse. If they acted,
they would have to move quickly. Once they acted, there was no going back. Not this time.

“I want to see everyone and have them tell me that they're going to go through with it.
That's the only way. I'll talk to Tracey about it,” Blaise said.

Nott and Pansy looked more relieved than anything else. Blaise left the room and stopped by the
dormitory. Harry was nowhere to be found. He quickly scratched out a letter on a thick parchment.
His left hand scrawled the message hastily. Blaise found his owl pecking at the leftovers of a dead
rodent.

“Come here, Zin,” Blaise ordered.

The owl would have to take a convoluted route. Her feathers were all brown save for a noticeable
dark trail that went down the spine. It would head away from the castle, looping through the
Forbidden Forest, before returning to its intended destination. She was smart but lazy.

He was returning when he found Diggory and Granger laughing by the library. Their body language
was unmistakable. She was leaning in, touching his shoulder. He was placing his hand on her back
while he told his joke. Blaise considered trying to disappear into the background, but it was too
late. She spotted him.

Blaise did not trust Hermione Granger.

She was too smart by a half and predisposed to suspicion. Harry, as paranoid as he could be, had
his blind spots. Granger had none. She was constantly inspecting and evaluating. Even now, she
moved away from Diggory, missing the hurt look on the Hufflepuff's face. She was tone deaf to
emotions sometimes. These were all things Blaise could tell just from observation. If he had the
opportunity to get inside her head…

*That's a dangerous game. One she's much better at.*

“I trust practice for the Second Task is going well?” Blaise asked.

“Swimmingly,” Hermione said coolly. Without Harry to reign her in, she dropped the genial
act.

Diggory walked up to Blaise with an easy smile and extended his hand. “Zabini, right?
Blaise?”

“Diggory, right? Cedric?” Blaise asked quizzically.

That bright smile faltered just a little bit. The Hufflepuff probably wasn't used to being
mocked. Blaise could see Granger narrowing her eyes. *Protective*, he thought. He was playing
with fire, but Granger would report back to Potter on how much of an arse that Blaise Zabini had
been. She would hopefully make no note that he was returning from the owlery.

“Well, I don't want to interrupt what's going on here. Diggory, Cedric. Nice to meet
you.” Blaise left without another word, giving himself a point over Granger.

Blaise met with all of them. Sadie Baldock and Daphne Greengrass both agreed that Harry was not
at his best. Bulstrode and Goyle did not like the way he yelled at everyone. Nott and Parkinson
were the obvious instigators. That left only two others to convince. Blaise would have bet all of
the Galleons in the Zabini family vault that there would not be a one hundred percent success rate
of this mutiny.

He found Draco and Tracey in the Common Room, leaning over textbooks. It was too open. Too
public. Peter, now the Second Year, was keeping tabs on Harry for him. Allegedly, Harry was meeting
with Cedric and the rest of the Champions about the Second Task. For how long, no one knew for
sure. It would have to be quick.

“Nitr…what the hell are these words?” Blaise asked, reading Malfoy's textbook upside
down.

“I wasn't aware you knew how to read,” Malfoy responded.

*Always the git.*

“He is right,” Tracey agreed. “What are you doing reading?”

“I'm not, of course. That's not why I'm really here.”

Blaise plopped down on the long couch next to Tracey. He would have to choose his words
carefully. Blaise took a deep breath. *Another move to make.*

“Is everything okay with Harry?” Blaise asked.

Tracey sat up, notes on Fluxweed and Mandrake Root forgotten. Her back tensed. Classic
protective tendencies. Tracey was a rare Slytherin whose emotions fluttered to the surface. Years
of the aristocracy practicing politeness and demurity were lost on her - at least where Harry was
concerned. Blaise let the question simmer for just a moment.

“He has a lot of things he's trying to handle right now,” she said.

“Bit of an understatement, don't you think?” Blaise looked at Draco for confirmation but the
other boy made no move to agree or disagree.

Tracey studied him. He was treading on thin ice now. One false step and…

“Pomfrey shouldn't have cleared him. He was still recovering from his injury,” she said.

“He looked fine to me. Dodged a couple spells and nearly destroyed that first house. Everything
was running fine until he got into that other house. You were there. What happened to him?”

She was struggling for an answer but tried not to show it. Draco was implacably cool as ever.
Malfoy might end up being the harder one to draw into Blaise's plan.

“He just collapsed, okay?”

“Crying out for his Mum isn't exactly *just* collapsing.”

“I don't know what you want me to say. We lost. It happens. It's been happening a little
more frequently, but if you've forgotten, we won a majority of our matches when Harry was still
in charge.”

*Lash out. Come on, Tracey.*

“He's not in charge still?” Blaise asked, keeping his tone light.

“He is. I don't want to hear anymore of this.” Tracey to finish the conversation.

Blaise crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “Then you're going to want to hear
what I have to say next.”

Tracey snapped her quill in half, the frustration evident on her pretty face. Others were
watching them now, some older students and younger ones as well. Tracey was either ignorant to them
or did not care.

“What more could you have to say?” she asked evenly.

“The others don't think he's fit to continue leading.”

Realization came to her quickly. Her lips were drawn tight. Her eyes widened as soon as the
words left his mouth. The fire that was burning seemed cooler and Blaise had to remind himself that
he needed Draco, not Tracey, for this to work. She was just the door that led to Malfoy.

“And who do they have in mind?” Tracey challenged.

*You think it''s me,* Blaise thought. But he wasn't stupid.

“Draco,” Blaise announced.

If the blond was surprised, he didn't show it. He barely even moved from his spot on the
solitary chair that was adjacent to the long couch. Those gray eyes were blank, devoid of emotion.
He didn't even sit up when he heard what Blaise said. Blaise studied him closely, looking for
any type of reaction but saw none. Tracey, on the other hand, swiveled on the spot. Blaise knew the
thoughts running through her head. He could practically hear it. *How could you…*

“I don't want to be Commander,” Draco said.

Tracey's shoulders sagged in relief. She was already building resentment towards Blaise, but
that was the price to pay. Blaise picked at his robes. The thread was becoming undone near the
collar. He would have to replace it.

“Well that's who they chose,” Blaise said.

“*They?*” Tracey asked incredulously. “Where was I for this decision?”

“They felt you were a bit biased.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Oh, I see. Pansy didn't think I could give a rational judgement. What
did she say? We haven't been doing well with Harry? He's been consorting with Gryffindors
too much? Is Nott a part of this too? I'm sure he thinks he's better at dueling and
commanding than Harry. Who else? Daphne? Millicent? Sadie?”

Tracey stood up, her hand twitching for the wand on the table. She was looking around the Common
Room, drawing the stares of several now. Blaise remained seated, maintaining a visage of calm. She
was digging her hole now. When she sat back down, her venomous rant continued.

“Not here to include me in the vote, are they? I suppose it's easier to make decisions
without anyone else looking. Harry said that Slytherin was weak, but I don't think he got to
the very root of it. A bunch of bloody cowards you lot are. You're his friend, Blaise! How
could you do this?”

*“**Because I am his friend,”* Blaise hissed back. “He is not *fit* to continue
on as of this moment. You know this. He's got the tournament. He's lost the discipline on
the House. He disappears almost every night - don't give me that look. I know it's not just
meeting with *her.* How is he supposed to handle the rigors of Battle class week in and week
out? We're already behind Gryffindor in the rankings. Bloody Hufflepuff is catching up to
us!”

“That does not excuse any of *this.*” Tracey leaned in, her eyes flashing.

Blaise almost lost his temper. Tracey was one of the few people that could do that to him.
Stubborn. Sometimes he thought she should have been in Gryffindor for her stupidity.

“You don't know what I went through just to hold them off,” Blaise lied. “One more week. We
have the Ball next weekend so no Battle class but after that, he has one more week. No more
episodes. No more losing. Either Draco takes command or someone else will.”

“I suppose that's you.” The sarcasm was lathered in every word of Tracey's
statement.

“He doesn't listen to me,” Blaise admitted. “Maybe you can convince him to snap out of it.
Either way, he is not putting Slytherin first. One week, Tracey. Get him to do better. He said he
wants Slytherin to be great. It's not going to happen the way he is continuing.”

Blaise stood up. He could feel Draco's cool eyes assessing him. Tracey was outraged, her
hands reaching for something...anything. She would calm down in time and for Harry's sake,
Blaise hoped she could find a way to reach the Bringer of Lightning. Harry would hate him. Tracey
would hate him. But something had to be done.

“He will *never* forgive you,” Tracey said, echoing his thoughts. “Not this time.”

*I hope not. That means we've started winning again.*

“One week.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

**A/N: Deeply sorry about the delay. I ran into a cumbersome formatting problem as I wrote this
chapter and the next. I had to rearrange some sections. The next update will take some time, but I
hope to meet the goal this time. The next chapter is longer than average length and still needs to
be completed.**

**Projected update time: 32 days**
 Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7
-->



41. A Song
----------



**A/N: I'm not dead! If you've read my previous works, you know that at some point,
there is a large break in my writing. It's a lot of things. Busy life, writer's block, lack
of motivation, no interest in the story. A combination of these things lead to a hiatus that I did
not intend.**

**But I'm back and I've actually written the next four chapters. I wanted to release
one back in November, but something or the other prevented me from doing so. As an apology, I will
release all four chapters this week, two days apart. Enjoy the chapter below.**

**To catch up, you can break the reading into segments: Chapters 27 to 31 will catch you up on
Harry's new plans for Fourth Year. Chapters 32 to 37 will take you through the beginning of the
Tournament. Chapters 38 to current continues the current plotline.**

**Enjoy and let me know what you think. Feel free to hate me for being so late to update or
leave a nice note if you like the chapter.**

---------------------------------------

“Harry, there's something you should know.”

The snip-snip of the scissors stopped as Tracey stepped back. He looked at her expectantly but
had half a mind on the state of his hair. When she said that she was just going to give him a short
trim, he expected just that. Strangely enough, Tracey refused his requests for a mirror. What was
happening up there?

When she didn't continue, he asked, “What do I need to know?”

She was struggling to find the words.

“I haven't gone bald, have I?” Harry reached up with his hand and still felt hair.

Tracey couldn't help but smile. With a flick of her wrist, she finished the last touches.
The scissors stopped clipping and she finally brought a mirror to his face.

“That's more like it, dear.” The mirror approved.

What was once an untamable animal on his head was now cropped close on the sides and left long
at the top. He twisted his head to and fro and found no faults. Tracey had done well.
Absentmindedly lowering the mirror with a bit of wandless magic, Harry stood and ran a hand through
his hair.

“Almost scared me. Though Tireur does do the bald thing well,” Harry said.

Harry liked to think he knew Tracey well. She had her habits. When she touched her hair, she was
nervous or trying to think of something to say. She could play coy but was quick to passion about
the things close to her. Other times, she could turn up the charm and put on a mask of
flirtatiousness.

What did she want to say?

“You're okay, right?” she asked. “That bit in Battle when you just lost it. That was
just...something else, right?”

Harry looked away. It was a mistake. He was usually better at controlling his emotions, but
Tracey had taken him by surprise. The screams were still echoing in his ears. Harry knew, in the
core of his heart, what these visions were. Would Tracey understand?

“It won't happen again,” Harry said.

She looked at him with those bright, azure eyes. “Are you sure? We need to start winning again,
Harry. It's important.”

“Of course we will.”

She didn't look convinced.

Tracey departed for her preparations. No doubt they would take hours. There was a nervous
tension in the air as Hogwarts prepared for the Yule Ball. Gatherings such as the Ball were not
commonplace, especially at a place like Hogwarts. Harry used the money that Slughorn procured for
him to buy plain, black robes. They were of better material than his normal robes but had no trim.
He also bought a circular, silver clasp and a striped, green tie.

An unspectacular outfit, to be truthful, but one that suited him.

Harry left the Slytherin Common Room early. He would see the rest of them when he entered the
Yule Ball. The Champions had to report in early and Harry was inbound to meet Fleur. He waited for
her at the double doored entrance to the Main Hall. On second thought, he walked up three stairs
and awaited her there. It was more dramatic and at least alleviated some of the height problems.
She was a good three or four inches taller.

The double doors opened and Harry stood taller. Instead of Fleur, it was Viktor Krum. His date
was a beautiful redhead that was certainly not a student. A forest-green gown sparkle in the
candlelight. She accented it with red jewelry, complimenting Durmstrang's colors. Krum was
garbed in black robes similar to Harry's, though Krum's was in size Giant. The Bulgarian
grunted at Harry and stood stiffly at the bottom of the stairs. His date looked inquisitively at
Harry. She had an Eastern European look about her. Harry smiled at her and she looked away.

*Not the friendliest couple.*

They trickled into the Main Hall in singles and in pairs. The girls wore a variety of dresses
made by designers that Harry did not know. They were long and short, glittering and plain, black
and white and red and different colors all over. Harry had no taste for fashion, but there were a
few that definitely did not suit the person. Most of the men wore plain robes only accented with
the colors of their respective school or House. Sometimes, a cheeky lad would come in wearing
something with a certain trim or color that broke the monochromatic monotony.

When Fleur entered, time paused.

Instead of light blue, she was dressed in a snowy white gown. The dress extended to the floor
and beyond her feet, following behind her. The bottom of the dress came short in the front. It
clung to her every curve, cinching tight at the waist. Straps criss crossed all the way up her back
like a spider web. They would rearrange themselves from time to time depending on how her body
shifted, sticking close to her spine. The front of her dress was less enchanted as the halter strap
gave her chest ample shape.

*Try not to look like a fool*. That voice in Harry's head sounded oddly like
Blaise.

All eyes were on the quarter-Veela as she approached Harry. He did his best to casually move
down one step and made a show of keeping one hand behind his back. At the base of the stairs, Harry
flourished his right hand from behind his back. Fleur quizzically looked at his empty hand and
Harry did the same. Little did she know he had torn off a piece of cloth that was held between his
fingers, unseen to almost all.

Concentrating, he transfigured the cloth into a lily flower, the petals as white as her dress.
He tried not to smirk at the successful change. He was getting better. The more he practiced, the
easier it came to him. He was starting to understand the intricacies of what he had to concentrate
on depending on the branch of magic. Different emotions and thought processes were needed for the
varying types of magic.

Fleur accepted the lily and and smiled at him. “It looks like you're saving your wand for
later then.”

They waited in the same room where they held them after the Goblet of Fire spit out their names.
Outside, the other students entered the Great Hall. Harry could hear the *oohs* and
*ahhs* as they enjoyed the enchanted scenery. Fleur was making small talk with one of the
other Beauxbatons champions. Harry rubbed his hands together, waiting for the others to join
them.

The door opened and Harry had to fight to hide his surprise as another pair joined the fray.

Hermione and Cedric entered the room arm in arm. He was clad in black robes with a dark yellow
trim. Stitched onto the chest was the Hufflepuff patch. A golden badger clasped his robes at his
neck. He was smiling. Cedric was always smiling.

But Hermione was also smiling. At least, she was trying to smile. There was a hesitancy when she
entered the room. Her eyes passed over the other champions but never lingered long enough to keep
eye contact. The mask was on. Her guard was always on.

“They look a lovely pair, don't they?”

Harry tried not to jump at the sound of Tireur's voice. The Beauxbatons boy was standing
right next to him, whispering into his ear. Harry kept his eyes on Hermione as they exchanged
pleasantries with Roger Davies and Cho Chang.

“Beauty and the beast. Diggory is so dashing, isn't he?”

Hermione smiled wanly as Fred and George bowed excessively to kiss both of her hands
simultaneously.

"I must admit I am surprised that she's not in your arms. From everything I've
read, you two should be together. Am I wrong?"

Tireur spoke in that slimy undertone. It was a hushed whisper, the words rolling and easing into
Harry's ear. Fleur was still chatting with another Beauxbatons student and no one seemed to
notice Karim. Hermione and Cedric waltzed around the room, briefly stopping by every champion.
Harry tracked them as they walked, his eyes never leaving them.

“Merlin, you're a bore. Do you understand what people would do to have Fleur Delacour hang
onto their arm? I've seen boys do the most disgusting things just to get her attention and you
can't tear your eyes off a, and I'm being *very* generous here, mediocre girl.”

Harry's wand was strapped to his body, flat against the left rib cage. Wand holsters were
forbidden during the Yule Ball, but they didn't say anything about other methods of wand
protection. Tireur was still speaking into his ear, almost perched on his shoulder. The Frenchman
was uncomfortably close, hovering over him in a domineering fashion.

Fleur, Cedric, and Hermione converged at the same time. Karim stepped out from behind Harry and
greeted them all with a congenial smile. Harry noted that while Fleur still had an effervescent
smile on her face, there was a coolness in her eyes as Karim approached. Cedric was as genial as
ever, extending his hand heartily towards Tireur.

“I don't think we've ever properly met. I'm Cedric Diggory,” he said.

“A fact that was inescapable as soon as you entered the room.” Karim addressed them with both
hands behind his back, overtly declining Cedric's handshake. The Hufflepuff let his hand fall
unsteadily to his side.

“Yes - well - we've heard great things about Beauxbatons,” Cedric continued, shooting Harry
an inquisitive look.

“Oh, I'm quite sure you have. Madame Maxime has no doubt extolled upon our numerous virtues.
What words did she mention? Grace? Elegance? Prestige? Anything to keep the fabulously pristine
reputation intact. Yes, your name is Cedric Diggory. Yes, you've heard great things about
Beauxbatons. No, no one believes this preposterously optimistic expression on your face. But
perhaps you're the one that really believes it. Perhaps you truly believe in the spirit of
cooperation that everyone in the Ministry likes to pedal to the press. But you can't possibly.
You're not that stupid. No, no, no. Miss Hermione Granger would not date someone that
stupid.”

His words flowed into one another, a steady and never ending stream. He spoke so quickly that
Harry could count the number of breaths he took on one hand. Karim's words were cutting and
disorienting. Cedric and Hermione were completely unprepared but the narrow look on Fleur's
eyes meant that she had experienced this type of behavior before. Harry remained still, his hands
by his side as he bore holes into the back of Karim's head.

*Legilimens*, Harry thought.

Eye contact wasn't a necessity, but it improved the chances of a successful Legilimency
spell. Harry had been able to probe Hermione's mind without making eye contact before. All he
needed was a temporary break into Karim's mind. Hermione had strictly warned him on using
Legilimency on anyone else besides herself. Yet, if anyone deserved to have their mind broken, it
was Karim Tireur.

Which made it all the more surprising when Harry encountered nothing but a blank canvas in
Karim's mind. The connection snapped and Tireur turned to face Harry. He winked and bowed.

“I must take my leave. I'm afraid I have overstayed my welcome. My apologies, Mr. Diggory.
My mind tends to wander into the great unknown. It leaves my mouth rather untethered.” Karim took
another bow and walked away without another word.

A pregnant pause overtook the foursome in the wake of Karim's verbal antagonization. Fleur
cleared her throat prettily, or at least as prettily as one could clear their throat.

“I will have to apologize profusely in the name of Beauxbatons, the rest of the champions, and
wizards in general. Tireur has a tendency of trying to get under your skin. Do not take his words
to heart. He says these things but they have no meaning.” Fleur touched Cedric's shoulder and
Harry swore he saw a spark fly from her fingers.

“It's quite alright.” Cedric's smile was a little wider when he looked at Fleur. The
demure girl lifted her hand from his shoulder and the spark was gone. Hermione was still watching
Tireur's back as he talked to another Beauxbatons girl. Harry tried to catch her eye, but if he
was right, she was refusing to make eye contact with him.

It was important she knew they were not alone in the study of Occlumency.

“I'm afraid I have to steal Hermione away for a moment. Something to discuss.” Harry did not
take no for a response and guided the Gryffindor girl away by grabbing the crook of her elbow. She
resisted at first but relented once she saw the expression on his face.

“What was that?” she asked, trying to keep her face from contorting into displeasure.

Harry licked his lips. She would not like this. “Tireur knows Occlumency.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. She looked around and quietly cast the *Vocce Molli* spell.
They could not be away long. Hermione leaned in closer and hissed, “Preposterous.”

“I tried it on him, Hermione. Nothing but a blank space.”

“Do you understand how few people can even attempt Occlumency? You can't mean to tell me
that someone else from another school just happens to know it. And why were you using Legilimency
anyway?”

Harry had the grace to look embarrassed. “I was curious.”

“You were annoyed,” she corrected. “Tireur is nothing but words. Why do you think he does it? If
it's that easy to get a rise out of you, what's stopping Tireur from doing the same in the
Second Task?”

“I have it under control,” Harry replied. The rest of the Champions were shuffling out as
McGonagall summoned them to the staging area. Fleur was chatting with another Beauxbatons girl
while Cedric lingered near the doorway.

“Do you? Tireur now knows that you know Legilimency. The more he knows…”

*The more he can use it against me.*

--------------------------------------------------

The Yule Ball was all splendor and frivolity. Harry grew more uncomfortable as the night
progressed. Fleur was a wonderful date, perfectly polite and genial at the necessary times. Harry
should have felt proud to have her on his arm, but he was consciously aware of Tireur the whole
night. He kept his Occlumency shields up, wary of any attacks, but they never came.

The Headmasters spoke in turn but Harry tuned them out. He glanced down the table at Tireur, but
the Beauxbatons boy was consumed in a conversation with Viktor Krum and his girlfriend. The
Bulgarian didn't seem to take a liking to Tireur judging by the especially sour expression on
his hard face.

“I'm starting to think you asked the wrong student from Beauxbatons to attend the Yule Ball
with you,” Fleur said.

Harry flushed. He didn't blush easily, but Fleur had a habit of making him do so. It had to
be her Veela powers. *Had to be.*

“I'm sorry. I've been terribly unattentive tonight.”

“It is not your attention I want. I can get plenty of that.” Fleur smiled but there was no
warmth in her words. “Do not let him get to you. He will make your life miserable and...joyless.
Karim has an obsession with winning. There is nothing else to him.”

“You make him sound awful.”

Fleur shrugged, pushing her hair back to show off her slender neck. “*Appeler un chat un
chat.* He has been that way ever since I've known him.”

Harry glanced down the table as Madame Maxime stood to make a speech. Snape deftly moved out of
the way to avoid her elbow.

“Do you know him well?” Harry asked.

“Karim? No. He does not like me.”

“Why wouldn't he?”

Fleur smiled coyly but didn't answer. Before Harry could continue his line of questioning,
the Champions were provoked to stand up and dance. Harry sucked in a breath. Fleur was a full head
taller than him and he was shockingly below average in optimal conditions when it came to dancing.
If she was nervous, she didn't show it. He grasped her hand and descended to the dance floor
from the raised dais they were seated on.

Harry looked up at the beautiful Veela as the melody sprung from a harp. Fleur tightened her
fingers and pulled his hand subtly. He pushed and they started a slow paced box step. To an
outsider, it would appear that Harry was leading her gently across the dance floor, but Harry felt
her pushing and pulling with her hands with tiny gestures. She was leading and following.

He twirled Fleur, or rather, she twirled herself. Her hair danced in the dim light provided by
the faeries above. It was hard to take his eyes off her form. Harry tried to bring up his
Occlumency shields but they were drowned by another desire. He gulped, feeling the full effects of
her magic.

“You fight it a lot,” she commented.

“Can you turn it off or is it something that just comes naturally?” Harry whispered into her ear
as he dipped her low. Her breasts rose to meet his eyes as her back arched over his arm.

“I've learned to harness it over the years, but I am only quarter-Veela. I will never be
able to do as the stories say.”

Harry shuddered as he thought of what a full Veela could do.

The tune of the song changed and Fleur twirled out of his arms. To his surprise, she grasped
Roger Davies' hand and immediately fell into an elegant dip. Cho Chang was suddenly in his
hands. Her eyes were a chestnut brown instead of Fleur's mesmerizing blue. She was pretty. But
she wasn't Fleur.

“Sorry,” Harry apologized as he fell into a simple half step.

“I gather you're not a regular ballroom dancer?” Cho asked.

“I'm not a regular dancer of any means to be frank.”

Cho giggled. “This is a traditional Witches swap. See how all of the wizards dance towards the
outer edge of the circle? After each refrain, the witches turn and dance with the partner to the
left. This continues until everyone has swapped partners at least once.”

“Were we supposed to know this?” Harry looked around and was grateful to find that he was not
the only one that looked uncomfortable. He twirled Cho around, narrowly avoiding mashing her
feet.

“You probably should have expected it, but you grew up with Muggles. Don't worry about it
too much. The actual dance is very simple and never lasts too long with each partner,” Cho
reassured him.

“Well, thank you for the information, Cho. I am about fifty percent less confused now.”

“You're not really one for being confused, so I'll bask in this temporary moment of your
mortality.”

“It happens. Dragons or girls usually do that to me.”

“Which is worse?” Cho asked with a twinkle in her eye.

The strings hit a different chord, signalling a change. Harry dipped Cho and answered her
question.

“I haven't had a girl try to kill me, yet. I suppose that gives you the advantage.”

On and on the partners went. Some were open to chatting. Others gave a greeting and said nothing
afterwards. Viktor Krum's date spoke no English. Harry had no problem with that. Words would
have only served to heighten the awkwardness. He was beginning to tire, his right knee tingling
every so slightly. Ignoring it as much as he could, Harry reached his hand out reflexively to
accept his next partner. Hermione's warm palm slipped into his, her hand resting on his
shoulder.

Harry was acutely aware of the eyes following them. Whispers grew louder. They spoke behind
cupped hands, the hush of their voices spreading rumor and gossip as fast as lightning. Harry fell
into a practised step, twirling Hermione around as the tune picked up. She said nothing for a few
moments, but there was nothing to really say. The middle of the dance floor was not the time for
discretion.

Hermione came close during a slow beat as they swayed to the strings of a violin. Most girls
kept a healthy distance apart during this part of the dance. Some did it awkwardly and stiffly,
like Viktor Krum's date. Others were more relaxed, like Cho and a few of the Beauxbatons girls.
Marietta made no mistake of how she felt about him. Another wizard could have fit in the space
between them when Harry danced with the belligerent Ravenclaw.

Harry placed his hands on her hips while she placed hers on his shoulders. When she looked up,
Harry was acutely aware of how close she was. Her bushy hair was pulled over one shoulder, not
completely tamed but manageable. Her dress was a light blue, but in Harry's opinion, it did not
suit her well. Still, the intensity behind those chocolate brown eyes drowned the rest of it out.
When she spoke, it was the last thing he expected her to say.

“Relax,” Hermione whispered as they swayed. “No one is going to attack you tonight.”

“I vehemently disagree. The Yule Ball seems like a good of a time to stage an ambush. Guards
down. Large crowd. Low lights. Besides, you're not one for relaxing.”

She met his eyes and for once, her own softened. What was in those brown eyes? Pity? Sympathy?
The song was coming to an end and Harry swung her low in one final dip. When she came back up,
Hermione held him for a moment longer than usual.

“We'll talk later.”

Then, she turned and walked to Cedric. Fleur approached at the same time and Harry regained his
composure. She beamed at him and the rest of the world turned a little darker as Fleur became
brighter. That was how she was; a light in the darkest of places. Every time he was with Hermione,
Harry was reminded of all the things they had already accomplished as well as all the things that
they were still supposed to do. When Fleur was in his arms, the whole world melted away.

*Relax.*

But Harry was brought back to the girl's lavatory on the Third Floor. He was brought back to
an image that made him squirm at night when it wriggled its way into his thoughts. There was a
guilt that would never fully recede. There was shame in that he could not protect the few friends
he had. Relax? There was never a time to relax.

“Dance with me,” Fleur implored as a more upbeat song started.

*Of course, there are always exceptions.*

-----------------------------------------------------------------

The night was ending, the sounds swirling down the drain of the party. There was plenty of
laughter, more than Hogwarts was used to. Usually somber and serious, Hogwarts was alive with
youthful exuberance. Yet, there were still pockets of silence and small alcoves where the gaiety of
the night died away.

Tracey was alone, or thought she was alone, in a north-facing observation tower. The peaks and
mountains beyond the Forbidden Forest jutted out into the sky like angry claws reaching from the
ground. The night should have been a joy for her. Very rare was there an opportunity to pull out
the fine robes and dresses that her mother showered upon her. Draco accompanied her throughout the
night and he was striking in his expensive black robes. She wore green, though far too many others
wore green for her liking. Still, it should have been a night to remember…

It crushed her that she felt this way. She was supposed to be stronger than this. She was
supposed to ignore that gnawing desperation every time Harry would look her way. She wasn't
supposed to feel this way.

Tracey sucked in a sob, upset that she was upset.

“Did you know there was a time when students were allowed into the Forbidden Forest? Of course,
everyone was a little more self-sufficient then. Or maybe the teachers did not care as much. Either
way, it wasn't called the Forbidden Forest. It was just the Northern Forest.”

Draco walked up until he was right beside her, staring out into the dark canopy of the Northern
Forest. The moon was bright tonight, the snow on the ground sparkling in response. Tracey dabbed at
her tears with the sleeve of her robes, trying to keep the mascara from smudging her face. Draco
produced a handkerchief from one of the pockets of his robes and held it out to her. She accepted
it gratefully.

“Did you follow me up here?” she asked.

“While it's not the first time a girl has ran away from me, it is the first time that I
don't think I was the cause of it,” Draco answered.

Tracey laughed but it came out more like a choked cry. *Am I so transparent? If even Draco
notices why I'm crying, can't everyone?*

“Though I did seem to make it like I was the cause regardless,” he continued.

She sniffed away the last of her tears. “Well thank you for that. It's much more than I
deserve.”

He shrugged. It was an ineffectual shrug. Draco barely lifted his shoulders and cocked his head
to one side when he shrugged like he was giving it as little effort as he could. But in the time
that Tracey had come to know him through their shared Medical classes, she could spot the little
signs. There was a constant anger, always brimming underneath his calm appearance. His nose would
turn in the air when he had the answer that everyone craved and he enjoyed keeping it out of
everyone's reach. Yet, there was also a drop in his shoulders and the blankness on his face
when he gave something his utmost concentration.

There was a person somewhere in there.

“Potter must be someone completely different when he's not trying to be Commander,” Draco
said. It was nice of him to try and approach this in a roundabout away. It showed a tact that he
kept reserved for people he didn't despise.

“He tries not to keep it separated these days. All of you will never really see it, but there is
someone besides Commander Potter. It's just someone that isn't very strong.”

“And you can't let Slytherin see that.”

“No,” Tracey said. “He can't let himself see that. For better or for worse, he is the hero
that everyone wants him to be. If he is ever anything less…”

Tracey couldn't find the words to finish her sentence. She had asked this question to
herself on plenty of sleepless nights. What would Harry be if he wasn't here at Hogwarts? The
answer was always the same. Harry would just be the nephew that his Aunt and Uncle did not want. He
would be the troublesome Muggle that had no friends. There would be no Harry the Hero or Harry, the
Bringer of Lightning. That was what drove him. He could claim that it was about winning or uniting
Slytherin or fighting off his attackers, but Tracey knew him better than that.

More than anything, he was afraid of being nothing.

“It's probably not my place to say, but I don't think Potter will ever be what you want
him to be,” he said.

“I don't think Harry will ever be what anyone wants him to be. It would be too many
things.”

“I know it's strange to think this, but the world doesn't revolve around Potter. Maybe
Hogwarts does, but the world is a big place.”

“*My* world revolves around him.”

“But it doesn't have to.”

Draco's cold, gray eyes turned to her. He was a head taller than her and would continue
growing. His hair was slicked back per usual. It was strange to say, but she did not look at his
face all that often. There was an intensity in his steely eyes that made it difficult to maintain
eye contact. Harry had that same intensity, but it was different. His green eyes reeled her in, an
inescapable gravitational pull. Draco could cut steel with the way he looked at her.

When he leaned forward to place a chaste kiss on her lips, she reacted poorly and flinched.

A horrified expression crossed Tracey's face as her mind stammered its way to an apology,
but her mouth would just not cooperate. It gaped open as he stared at her and she felt trapped,
unable to look away. There was a coil in her mind, trying to find the words to express what she
felt, but she had become a mute in a matter of seconds.

“Interesting,” Draco finally said. “That was not how I imagined my first kiss to go.”

Blood flushed Tracey's face, but it felt as if she had been hit with a *Petrificus
Totalus.* Her arms were glued to her side and her mouth was still agape. Draco waited for a few
more seconds. When she didn't speak, he gave her a sad and cruel smile. Turning away from the
window, Draco left without another word.

Tracey snapped out of her reverie and leapt forward, grasping his wrist. She pulled him back to
her and reached up to kiss him again.

“I'm sorry,” she said. “I'm the worst person in the world. I just didn't know you
felt...anything.”

“I don't know if I still do.”

Slytherins could be brave too. Even Draco Malfoy. She slipped her hand into his, determined to
make up for her earlier transgression. Harry would always be her friend, but perhaps it was time to
let that flame go.

“Come on. Let's watch Harry stumble around the dance floor a little more.”

Draco smiled a knowing smile.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Hermione spun thrice around and laughed as Cedric finally pulled her in. She was dizzy and
leaned against the Hufflepuff to balance herself. They were both laughing as they walked off after
the last dance. It had been a night unlike any other for Hermione. The past year had been clouded
in such a haze that she had forgotten what it was to not worry about dueling for one night. She
knew that this was just momentary. When the sun rose in the morning, the everyday grind of Hogwarts
Battle School would return, but for just one moment, it didn't matter.

Cedric grinned toothily at her, his tie undone and his hair a ruffled mess. Hermione would have
never thought that she would fall for someone like him. Chatty, charismatic, and unafraid to place
himself at the front of the line, Cedric stood out far too much for what Hermione thought she would
like. Yet, there was a seriousness that grounded him. He was never too far in the clouds or too
idealistic. He had a strong moral compass. Hermione knew it by the way he talked about cheating
during battles or proper etiquette in a wizard's duel.

There were days when she wondered whether or not it was all a joke. More than once, she had
asked him why her. But Cedric was genuine. She was not fool enough to think he would never lie, but
it wasn't a lie when he told her that she interested him. Hermione linked arms with him as they
gathered their belongings.

They walked with the crowd, exiting the Great Hall. There were Prefects and teachers making sure
some of the older students wouldn't wander off, but their heart wasn't into it. They were
mostly making sure the younger students got back to their Common Rooms. Cedric offered to walk her
back to the Gryffindor tower and she accepted with little fanfare. When they reached the portrait
of the Fat Lady, Hermione paused.

Cedric leaned down to kiss her expectantly. She leaned in and continued the kiss for a few
moments. It was improper and if she was in a different state of mind, Hermione would have been
horribly embarrassed. But the night had took hold of her and she let the mask drop for just a
moment. Of course, it helped that Cedric's tongue was doing wonderful things inside her own
mouth.

“Get it, Granger!” Fred yelled as a group of Gryffindors waited for the staircase to swing over
to them.

Hermione finally detached herself from Cedric. Her arms were still linked behind his neck and
she regained her composure.

“`I'm sorry,” she said. “That was out of character.”

“It's okay to let go sometimes.” Cedric brought her close for one more hug.

George approached them with mock sternness. “Oi. They'll be no consorting with the enemy
here.”

“We're all Champions here, George,” Cedric said.

“But you're still a Hufflepuff. House before Champions but after gender. It's a tricky
equation,” George quipped.

“He's just leaving, George.”

Fred and George actually kept Cedric around for five more minutes, taking turns teasing him as
well as asking some questions about the Second Task. He may have been a Hufflepuff, but Cedric was
well liked by everyone besides the Slytherins. A slow trickle of Gryffindors entered the Fat Lady
portrait and no one seemed to have a problem with Cedric knowing the location of the entrance.

At last, Cedric bid them all goodnight, pulling Hermione in for one more kiss. After threatening
Fred and George with vicious methods of castration, Hermione retired for the night. She peeled off
her dress, wiping down what little make up she wore, and collapsed into her soft mattress. Try as
she might, Hermione couldn't sleep. It evaded her. There was still too much excitement running
through her body. So she did what came natural to her when she couldn't sleep. Hermione sat up,
took out a book from her bedside dresser and started reading.

It was a long while before Hermione fell asleep. She laid on her back, the book open across her
chest. In the dim light of the moon, the title of the book caught the barest of lights. It sparked
in gold and read: *The Casting of Unforgivables.*

-------------------------------------

“Quickly now,” Fleur giggled.

She pulled Harry along, her bare feet padding along the snow, leaving quite obvious trails to
her carriage. Sliding her key into the lock, Fleur opened the door of her carriage and stepped
inside. Soft lights hung on the ceiling, but they were neither flames nor light bulbs. It was just
white orbs of light dotting the room, covering it in an effervescent glow.

She shed her outer robes and Harry had to fight the urge to gawk. Her dress was near transparent
in the glowing lights of her room. While Harry was relatively clueless when it came to women, he
was bright enough to catch onto the fact that she was doing this on purpose. If anyone had the
insanity to doubt Fleur's beauty, they could have been easily convinced if they were in the
room right now.

Fleur took out her wand and cleaned her feet then sat down on her bed in the corner wordlessly.
Harry felt his feet walk until he was beside her. Occlumency be damned, he was letting his mind go
now. The full effects of her Veela magic clouded his brain into a fever of lust. Harry reached out
with his hand but she grabbed it in midair. Holding Harry by his wrist, Fleur nuzzled into his open
palm, kissing the inside of his wrist.

She pulled him down slowly, placing open mouthed kisses all the way up his arm until he was
seated next to her. Fleur continued up his body, untying the knot of his tie deftly and opening his
collar. She sucked on his neck, pushing his chest gently until he laid on the bed. Her smooth legs
straddled his waist as she continued doing the nicest things with her mouth. Harry finally began to
wander with his hands, caressing her sides, reveling in the smoothness of her skin.

Fleur slapped his hand away when he ran it up her leg, but she smiled down at him when she did
so. One by one, the buttons of his shirt went undone. His mind was barely grasping what was going
on. He couldn't think straight. There was a cloudiness whenever he tried to think of anything
or anyone else. When his shirt was finally open, Fleur raked her nails down his chest. He exclaimed
rather loudly, causing her to giggle.

Harry could barely think as she dragged her lips across his chest. There was a throbbing inside
his body, a pleasurable but foreign sensation. It was hard to tell where her magic stopped and his
lust began. Every kiss lit his body in an uncontrollable inferno. He was gasping and fought the
urge to rip her dress off her body. Legilimency or not, she read his mind by sitting up and
grabbing her wand. One spell unlaced the intricate bindings across her back until the dress fell
off. She banished the garment away and sat on top of him naked.

*Oh.*

“Fleur,” Harry finally managed to say. “I've never...I never have…”

Fleur put a finger against his lips.

“Do not worry. Just follow.”

She leaned down, her beautiful breasts pressing against his chest and kissed him on the mouth.
The cloudiness returned in his mind as he kissed her back. Their tongues dueled as their bodies
grinded away. Harry grew bolder and grasped her breast in his right hand, pinching the pink nipple
and causing her to moan. She batted his hands away and sucked on his own nipples. He arched his
back and she opened her mouth wider as if she were trying to engulf him.

Practised fingers removed his belt and unbuttoned his pants. She tugged them down, urgent but
never rushed. Somewhere in his addled mind, it occurred to him that she was far more experienced
than he was. Before that thought could continue, her mouth engulfed him whole. He reached for
anything he could grab and settled for her hair. She made no move to push his hand away as he
experienced pleasure beyond his wildest dreams.

Death would be sweet if it were to occur right now. There would be no better way to go. She
stopped and he couldn't help the moan that ripped from his throat. He could barely think. He
couldn't think at all. All that existed was Fleur. Her blonde hair. Her smooth skin. Her
shapely body. She laid next to him, her chest heaving up and down and pulling his gaze towards
them. She kissed him and Harry found that her eyes were a solid blue. His mind clouded again as he
leaned over her. Fleur spread her legs, hooking one around his hip. Her hands gripped his shoulders
and then ghosted over his back.

She froze.

The stillness was so unsettling that Harry froze as well. He hovered over her, aching to be
inside, but he could not move. Her hand traced the scar along his back. her fingers pressing and
depressing along the criss cross pattern that Vernon had created. Harry tried to think of something
to say, but his head was still clouded with lust. The red wave was receding, but he could say
nothing.

Fleur shattered the stillness by throwing him off her bed. The force was too strong to be
mistaken as anything else but magic. He collapsed on the floor, naked and hard. His mind was
starting to clear as he finally looked at Fleur for the first time.

The blueness of her eyes was shocking. There was no pupil. It was just a solid blue, clear as
the water in the sea. A perceptible glow hovered inches off her naked skin. Her beautiful, blonde
hair had a life of its own, floating in the air. Fleur was a beautiful menace.

Then, it all disappeared. The glow was gone. Her eyes returned to its normal shade. Her hair
fell down as if anchored on each end. Her hands went to her face and she moaned, but it was not the
pleasurable moan he had heard just seconds before.

“*Je ne peux pas. Je ne peux pas. Il est un enfant. Je ne peux pas…”*

Harry took a step towards her. “Fleur…”

*“**NON!”* Fleur threw her hands in front of her and Harry could not move a single
muscle. She relaxed and made another motion with her hands and he felt his limbs loosen.

*“**Non, non, non…*” She rocked back and forth, openly weeping. The sound was
horrifying. It was unearthly and bone shaking.

*“**Non, non. Je ne le tomperai pas. Il est un efant…”*

“Fleur, what's wrong?” This time, Harry made no motion to antagonize her.

She stilled and Harry braced himself. His wand was a few feet away, but he still had his
wandless magic though he doubted if he could even perform. His mind was still in a strange
state.

“Go,” Fleur whispered.

“Fleur, I can explain. It's not…”

*“**GO! LEAVE ME!”*

Harry gathered his clothes, rushing to pull his pants on. His head was clear and his heart was
numb. Would any girl ever understand? Would they be the same when their fingers touched the scars
on his back? He gulped, swallowing the bitter tears. He would not cry. He would not cry. He would
not…

Wiping the tears away, Harry ran. He could still hear Fleur's weeping as he flew through the
door. Tearing the snow, Harry ran with no direction or purpose. He descended, flying down the
stairs with reckless abandon. One false step and he would have broken his neck, but he did not
care. Down he went until he found a small alcove somewhere in the dungeons. He curled into it,
draping his robes to cover himself. There was barely enough room to extend his legs and his head
kept bumping against the wall. It was his cupboard underneath the stairs and he fell asleep to the
sound of Vernon raging against the locked door.

-------------------------------

“The boy was careless. His mind was -”

“Leave him be, Severus. He's suffered enough for one night.”

----------------------------------

**Projected update time: 2 days**
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42. A Storm Brewing
-------------------



When Harry woke, a blanket covered his body and a pillow was underneath his head. He felt oddly
comfortable and he could not remember any nightmares. It took him a few disorienting moments to
recap the events of the previous night, but it came rushing back to him like a tidal wave.

“Harry.”

Hermione was standing over him, a vexed expression on her face. She had her wand out and her
normal robes on, so it must have been the next morning already. It was hard to tell in the
dungeons. She crouched, bringing her face closer.

“Hermione,” he croaked. He sat up, trying to work out the stiffness in his back.

“What time is it?” Harry asked.

“A little before six,” she answered without consulting her watch. “Do you mind telling me why
Luna roused me at four in the morning to find you?”

“Luna got to you?”

She pulled out the Sickle, rubbing it between her thumb and middle finger.

“Apparently, Malfoy reported that you never came back to the dormitory. He told Tracey, who
somehow managed to convince Padma Patil to find Luna. Whatever Tracey said must have had a
*profound* effect on Luna as she managed to relay seven messages on the Sickle to me. Luckily
I was awake and read that message and met the both of them. I tried to explain to Tracey that you
were most likely…” Hermione bit her lip as she thought of a word. “...indisposed, for the lack of a
better word, with Fleur. Of course, she didn't quite agree with me. So right now, Tracey and
Luna are looking for you in various corners of Hogwarts. I, in fact, hadn't actually gone
searching for you like I promised I would. I went for the cave and when I cast my detection charm,
look what I found.”

Hermione looked at him expectantly when she finished. What was he supposed to feel? Guilty? He
did feel the slightest bit of guilt, but his mind was still on Fleur and the sound of her
weeping.

When he didn't say anything, Hermione continued, “While it is probably pointless for me to
say this, I think that someone probably deserves an explanation. Care to give one?”

“No.”

She betrayed no surprise.

“Care to give you friends one?”

Harry hesitated for a moment before giving an answer. “Tell them that I was with Fleur the whole
night and you found me coming back into the castle.”

Hermione's eyebrows shot into her bushy hair. She was still towering over him with that smug
expression that he hated. Harry stood up, folding his robes over his arm. He checked for his wand
and was relieved that he didn't crush it. Hermione continued to look at him expectantly and he
winced when he realized his mistake. By telling Hermione to repeat his lie, he had inadvertently
given her the cause of his overnight stay in the dungeons: Fleur.

“I'm not going to be your parrot, Harry. If you don't want to tell me, that's fine.
But I'm not going to lie to your friends for you. Tell them that you were out with Fleur.
I'll say nothing of it.”

He gave her ample opportunity to continue her lecture, but she had the wherewithal to hold back.
Hermione was never more annoying than when she knew she was right. Harry glared at her but she did
not wither underneath his gaze. If anything, she gave a little smirk. He huffed and turned away to
go back to his dormitory. Her hand snaked out and grabbed his wrist before he could leave.

“Hey,” she said. “Are you okay? You can tell me. You know as well as I do that I won't
repeat it to anyone.”

Harry found it hard to imagine talking to Hermione about what happened the previous night. It
was not something he could discuss with her.

“I'm fine,” he said.

“So you keep saying.”

---------------------------------------------------

Tracey was oddly calm when he lied about where he was the previous night. Harry thanked her for
worrying but informed her it was unnecessary. He also had to hunt down Luna and apologize to the
Ravenclaw. There was no need for anyone to be awake that early.

Classes resumed and thankfully kept his mind off Fleur. He threw himself into Strategy with Trow
and Dueling with Moody. Harry fought with an anger, disarming his fellow students with alarming
speed. He did everything he could to keep busy.

A saving grace was that Fleur made herself rare. Harry had not seen the Veela at all, even in
the Great Hall. He would look for her. How could he not? Gathering what little he could from the
other students, Harry found she had sequestered herself to her carriage. There were questions he
had for her, but he didn't know how he could even look her in the eye. That despair was welling
up within his gut again and he forced it down, squashing it before it started. There was no room
for emotion.

Cedric gathered them for another meeting, discussing the finer points of transfiguring ice and
water into weaponized objects. Harry was passable at transfiguring unlike objects, but there were
several others that held far greater expertise on the subject. There were no other clues except for
the egg that they had stolen. As far as they knew, the other schools were left in the dark as
well.

“Anything you were able to get from Fleur?” Fred nudged Harry with his elbow and winked.

They were crowded into the Astronomy tower again. There was a little more space since they were
down to ten Champions. Nonetheless, the Hogwarts group was still elbow to elbow around the table
and Fred had chosen the wrong words at the wrong time. Harry fought down the burning combination of
embarrassment and anger. Displaying anything now would be a dead give away.

“She was rather...tight-lipped.”

Fred and George guffawed. Roger Davies shook his head while the majority of the girls scowled at
him. Cedric rolled his eyes but had the hint of a bemused smile on his lips. Hermione just arched
her eyebrow curiously. It could not be understated how much he hated that smug expression she
sometimes wore.

“Nothing from Durmstrang. They're not even allowed to speak to any of the other Champions.
They talk with people from Hogwarts, but never to us. I don't even know how much they've
figured out about the riddle,” Hermione added.

“Well they're not idiots,” Roger said. “They're playing it close to the chest and that
makes them the more dangerous one.”

Harry thought of Tireur and his endless taunts. He thought of Fleur and the display of Veela
magic in her carriage. There was a threat there...and power. There was no way to tell what
Durmstrang was planning. The dragons were a poor test of what each school was capable of as
fighting dragons was far different than fighting other wizards and witches. If they were to pit
them against each other in this Second Task, then they would go in knowing little of each
school's tactics. It was a blind fight, not one that Harry was used to. Years of dueling
against the other Houses had given them tendencies that Hermione had painstakingly recorded. There
was no such advantage against Durmstrang or Beauxbatons.

They dismissed the meeting and Harry was unsurprised to find they had accomplished little. There
were no set plans or guidelines. Cedric was doing his best to define his leadership role, but there
was little cause to follow him. Without any knowledge of the battlefield or the objectives, there
was little to plan. The Second Task was within the week and there had been no significant
breakthroughs since they figured out some of the clues from the riddle in the egg.

Harry concentrated on his studies instead. His handle of transfiguration was getting better as
he repeatedly practiced the motions and incantations needed to convert unlike objects. It was a
different study than spellcasting. So much of spellcasting involved belief and concentration.
Transfiguration was concentration of a different sort. Projection of the mind was what McGonagall
constantly drummed into their heads. It was not a branch of magic that could be cheated. It was why
Harry found it fascinating and frustrating at the same time. Spellcasting came easy to him.
Transfiguration had no easy path. It was a torturous study of objects.

But it didn't matter how much Harry tried to cram into his head. Fleur was inescapable. The
more he tried to push her out, the longer she lingered. The images of that night replayed
constantly in his mind. No amount of Occlumency could rid him of the shame he felt. He was
determined not to show it in front of everyone. He pushed the Slytherins ruthlessly in Battle
class, securing narrow victories against Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Afterwards, he had berated them
for not winning by a large enough margin. They lost far too many against them.

Perhaps he had been too harsh on them, but he was tired of their excuses. They needed to
establish a high quality of excellence if they were able to progress beyond their current status.
He wanted them to believe that they would win *all the time.* Tracey had tried to calm him
down after one of his tirades, but he brushed her off.

“Harry, you're pushing too much,” she warned him after everyone had left.

“I need to push them,” Harry replied. “We need to win every single time. Nothing else is
acceptable.”

“Harry-”

He cut her off. “No, Trace. I won't hear any more of it.”

Harry left before she could continue. Even Tracey, who rarely pushed his buttons, was annoying
him. It wasn't her fault. It wasn't even the other Slytherins' fault. There was just a
storm brewing in his chest and he could not help but fight at every opportunity that was presented
to him. He was walking to the cave and glowered at any student he passed. Some flinched. Some
avoided his gaze. Others challenged him. A little Legilimency would make them look away.

Hermione was waiting for him, talking in low tones with Cedric. Harry approached them cautiously
and felt another storm brewing in his chest. His crossed expression must have been plainly evident
as Hermione frowned when he was near.

“Hullo, Cedric,” Harry said evenly.

Cedric smiled brightly as he greeted him back. *When is he ever not smiling?*

“We're waiting for Luna to arrive and then we can go in. You can go now, Cedric. I do
believe that your amusing insistence on making sure I wasn't disturbed has been fulfilled.”
Hermione said the last part sarcastically but with little intent. Cedric chuckled and kissed the
top of her head. He waved goodbye to Harry and took the stairs to the main corridor above.

After he departed, Hermione asked, “I've noticed you haven't really been your sunny
self.”

“What gave it away?”

Harry leaned against the entrance to the cave and levitated his wand. Hermione watched him
wordlessly and he could see the envy in her eyes. At least he still had this to hold over her.

“Offer to talk still stands,” she said.

“Politely refused” Harry responded.

“Stubbornly continued. Do you realize you look like a Hippogriff burned your house down?
Don't think I haven't seen the way you're glaring at everyone. I even heard from Susan
Bones that you had a go at your House after you *beat* Hufflepuff. Seeing as how Tracey and
Luna still seem to think that you were with Fleur the whole night, I think I have good reason to
think that *something* must have happened with her.”

“What does it matter to you? I don't ask you about Cedric.”

“I'm not trying to kill everyone by just staring at them. Harry, who are you going to talk
to if you're not going to talk to Tracey? Don't tell me that you're just going to keep
it all to yourself!”

“Ahem.” Luna coughed, thankfully interrupting a fight that was about to occur. “Impressive
wandless magic, Harry. Is that a Spinning Charm you applied to your wand?”

Harry blinked and realized he was twirling his wand in mid-air. As soon as he thought about the
Spinning Charm, the wand stopped spinning. He lowered it back to his palm, not realizing how fast
his heart was beating.

“Should I come back at another time?” Luna asked.

“No,” Hermione answered. “You've interrupted nothing apparently.”

She tapped the bricks and the entrance opened. Inside, they continued their work of building a
replica to the Board room. They had made quite some advancements, but they still did not have any
way of acquiring the image to project onto the board. There were some ideas involving crystals, but
they were just theories. The trio operated efficiently and in a very business-like manner, but
Harry did not miss the coldness that Hermione was no projecting towards him.

The storm brewed within, unabated and growing.

------------------------------------------------

The day before the Second Task, Snape summoned them for another Battle class. Harry arrived
first, ahead of the rest of the members of his House. He hoped to fight in this actual class. The
rest of the students arrived until it was apparent that all four Houses would be participating in
this particular Battle class. When they were all present, Snape motioned with his hands to split
into their respective Houses. Slytherin did not need to move. They were all gathered together.

“Ravenclaw. Hufflepuff. Gryffindor. Your objective in this class is to defeat Slytherin. You are
not to attack each other. You will all be awarded the same if Slytherin is defeated.”

Snape said it with such clarity that dissuaded any argument. There was no room for
discussion.

No one moved and Harry could hear the hushed whispers of the other Houses as well as his own. He
stared wilfully at Snape and the Headmaster met his gaze. Harry did not blink. He did not look
away. He wouldn't stand down to him. Snape met his gaze evenly, every muscle on his sallow face
perfectly composed.

*Do I dare?*

Harry did not. He was angry. Furious. The unfairness had never been more transparent. Snape was
trying to tip him over the edge, but he would not win. Harry recognized a losing battle and would
not be baited into performing Legilimency against Snape. He would win this duel.

A hand shot up in the air and Harry finally broke eye contact.

“Miss Granger?” Snape asked.

Hermione stepped forward, looking grave and petulant. “Isn't this a bit unequal?”

“You will find that battles are rarely equal. I have put you in positions that have allowed for
largely even numbers so far. Might it be that Gryffindor will see themselves with *unequal*
numbers the next time.”

She wanted to argue. Harry knew that expression ever so well. There was a rebuttal at the tip of
her tongue, but she bit it as well. It burned Harry to no end. Snape was imposing himself on the
both of them in front of everyone. He would win this battle. He had to win this battle.

Snape paced in front of the door of the Room of Requirements until it revealed itself. He
gestured for the three other Houses to proceed forward. They entered single file, the sheer number
of them already scaring the other Slytherins. Snape closed the door behind them and turned to face
his former House.

“Since you are at a numerical disadvantage, I will give you five minutes to discuss your
strategy for this particular class. Do take advantage of this precious time. The enemy shows no
pity for the outnumbered,” Snape said.

Harry turned to face them, glad that he was going to participate this time. He had done it
before and he would do it again. The forest was fresh in his mind and his House had almost won
except for Granger. This time, he would not be felled by the Gryffindor.

He began to speak. “Whatever awaits us, I know we will handle it. We've done it before.
Remember the forest. Remember the predicament we were in. This is the same. We were close before
and I am at full strength now. Do you believe me?”

There were hesitant nods. Harry expected a chorus of yesses, but they were nervous. Snape had
highlighted their numerical disadvantage and there would be no Granger or Gryffindor to help them
this time. Tracey spoke up.

“I believe in you, Harry.”

He would always be thankful for her. There was no one else who believed in him
unconditionally.

“Goyle. Millicent. We're going with the meat shields. Draco, take a free role and move
opposite to me. Everyone else, await instructions. I'll make sure to be quick with them once
we're inside.”

He split them into pairs and had them practice simple spells so they could get their mouths
moving. There was a palpable nervousness among them that could not be dispelled. Harry tried to
keep his anger in check. If they were to win, he would have to perform better than he had ever had
before. He paired himself with Tracey and they disarmed each other in turn.

“Why is he doing this?” Tracey whispered.

Harry glared at the back of Snape's greasy head.

“Because of me,” he said.

Five minutes evaporated in an instant and Snape paced back and forth until another door
materialized from the wall. With a flick of his wand, Snape opened the door and beckoned them
inside. One by the one, they walked to their doom. Harry was last and paused before stepping into
the battle. He looked at Snape, hoping to project some sort of fearlessness.

“Do not dawdle, Mr. Potter. Your House awaits your leadership,” Snape drawled.

Harry chose his words carefully. “I will win this. I will beat everything you throw at me.”

Snape gazed at him in the eye and Harry finally found some emotion.

Amusement.

“I don't believe you will.”

----------------------------------------

Harry stepped through the door only to find another door. They were in a ten by ten room, lit by
a single flame in the center. There were no other exits besides a solitary door, wide enough for
just one person. It was similar to another Battle class they had but even more limiting this time.
It did not take long for the others to realize their predicament.

“That sodding bastard,” Nott muttered.

Harry nodded in agreement.

“Is there any chance they won't all be waiting on the other side?” Tracey wondered.

*No,* Harry thought. *That would be far too nice of Snape to allow that.*

“They'll be waiting for us. All thirty of them,” Harry answered.

Harry started formulating a plan of attack. It was an easy funnel, meant to signal their defeat.
The intimidation was almost enough to stay any attack and surrender, but there was no option for
surrender. They would lose fighting and Harry would have it no other way. But he did not intend to
lose.

One door. No other exits. Harry examined the walls and found them to be concrete. When he
removed a brick, he found another. And another. Then another. They would not be able to make their
own exit. A *Fulminare* might catch some of them, but they would be prepared and not present
such an opportunity. The spell was hard to control and struck everything in its path. An object
could be created just as a distraction for the spell.

He briefly thought of fanning out with shields, but they would not last long under the withering
force of thirty wands pointed at them. Disillusionment Charms were another option but Granger knew
the counter spell and would have no doubt tried to teach others about it. He relayed these thoughts
to the rest of them, looking for input.

“What if we all came out slowly under the Disillusionment Charm? Go one at a time and try to
sneak past them?” Blaise asked, speaking for the first time.

Harry shook his head. “They're going to have traps and counter-jinxes ready for that. As
soon as that door opens, they're going to bombard us.”

“Why don't we just open it?” Draco asked. “Don't go outside but survey the situation
from within. At least we'll get a better idea of what we're facing.”

With shields produced on each side of the wall surrounding the door, Harry banished it. The door
groaned as the hinges gave way. Oddly enough, there were no spells as soon as the pathway opened.
Harry was sure they would have attacked as soon as that door opened if they were out there.

“Mirrors,” Harry called out.

Tracey floated a transfigured mirror and angled it in such a way that Harry could see what was
out there without exposing himself. Adjust the mirror slightly with wandless magic, Harry realized
why there weren't any spells.

The blue shields of the *Protego* completely fulfilled his vision. They were approximately
thirty feet away, but readily present. There were no spells casted to destroy his mirror, so they
did not care for hiding their intentions. *Hufflepuffs*, Harry thought. He thought he could
see the yellow badge that signified the House behind their blue shields.

“Potter,” Draco whispered. The blond boy pointed along the outer edge of the door. Harry
understood immediately.

If they were smart, which some undoubtedly were, then they would have surrounded the whole
building. Every angle would be covered as soon as they exited, making it impossible to slowly fan
out with shields. Harry ground his teeth as he realized the extent of the situation Snape put them
in. He meant for them to lose.

“They have us surrounded,” Pansy whispered in awe as she, too, recognized the hopelessness of
the situation.

“Why haven't they attacked us?” Blaise asked.

“No need to,” said Tracey. “They can just wait until we come out. Why risk trying to take the
building when we have to come out eventually?”

She was right, of course. There was no way to entice them into the building where the funnel
would work against them. All they had to do was wait it out and the situation would resolve itself.
There had to be a way…

Dudley and his gang made a habit of trying to surround and entrap Harry when he was younger. It
was much in the same manner as Battle class. They would find an alley and corner Harry so the only
way to escape was *through* Dudley. Of course, Harry was too small to fight Dudley on his own,
so he would have to manage and try to escape. Most of the time, he was caught and pummelled. But
occasionally, if he was fast enough, Harry could escape. Quickness was the key.

There was no way to run fast enough to escape the spells. Even with the Disillusionment Charm,
he would only last a few seconds before he tripped the counter measures. If there was a way to move
quickly, however, that gave them a chance. Harry looked around and found nothing of else in the
room.

*Of course. Snape wouldn't give us anything easy to transfigure.*

“Your robes. Everyone remove their robes.”

They tossed their robes to him in a tight ball. They still had their combat shirts and pants on.
The robes would not make for the greatest transfiguration material, but they were all he had. One
by one, he transfigured each of them into a slab of metal. Each piece was wide enough for him to
stand on.

“Smoke Charm,” Harry commanded.

Tracey cast a smoke charm on the doorway to obscure the vision from the outside.

Transfiguring one of the robes into a slanted rock, Harry completed preparations by stacking the
metal sheets against the rock so they faced the doorway. He tilted them at a slight angle so if he
placed his feet against the metal sheets, his head would be pointing towards the door at a
perpendicular angle. The metal sheets were useful since they could hold the Repelling Charms
without breaking apart.

A human rocket.

*“**Detinent."* Harry cast on the top metal sheet. It was a Dampening Charm,
intended to weaken the effects of a spell.

“Everyone cast a Repelling Charm on each of the metal sheets,” Harry ordered. “When this fires
me out, I'm going to try to take out the *Protego* shields that are stationed facing us.
As soon as you hear my spells go off, cast Obfuscation and Smoke Charms right out of the doorway.
Slide out facing *up* and start blasting away.”

It was a good plan in theory. Hopefully being a human cannonball didn't kill him.

Nine Repelling Charms were cast on the metal sheets. Harry could feel them vibrating beneath his
feet, but the full effects were not yet felt because of the Dampening Charm. He gritted his teeth,
feeling the strain that the Dampening Charm was putting on his body. Nine Repelling Charms should
theoretically give him enough velocity to avoid any spells or traps. Tapping his wand on his head,
Harry cast the Disillusionment Charm.

“Ready?” Harry asked.

Draco nodded.

Harry pointed at his feet and braced for impact.

*“**Finite.”*

The Dampening Charm was removed and the force of nine Repelling Charms occurred between the
metal sheet and his feet. The force was so strong that he couldn't even open his eyes. He felt
the wind in his ears and air against his face. Since his neck wasn't broken, Harry assumed that
he had correctly judged the trajectory. He could feel his body slowing down and his organs
settling. When he could open his eyes, Harry cast a Cushioning Charm to break his fall.

Standing up, he found himself in the middle of what looked to be a desert. After quickly
orienting himself, Harry found the Hufflepuffs that were grouped together in a shield. Even from a
distance, Harry could see that almost everyone else was grouped above and to the sides of the
building.

Harry ran.

*“**Fulminare!”*

The chained lightning spell struck the Hufflepuffs and broke their shields. Out of the corner of
his eye, Harry could see various Obfuscation Charms fill the air and the familiar sounds of
spellcasting ringing in his ears. Flicking his wrist, he fired sound spells, igniting the area with
explosive sonic booms that would hopefully disorient the others.

Applying the Disillusionment Charm again, Harry crouched and waited for the smoke and charms to
clear the area. It would be dangerous to wander into the crossfire without identifying who was the
enemy. *Fulminare* wouldn't work since it was uncontrollable. Harry waited but did not
like the lack of spells he could hear. There should have been more. Slytherin should have still
been fighting.

*“**Finite.”* Someone cast the spell and the smoke started clearing from the area.
Harry brought his wand into a ready position.

The Slytherins were bound or unconscious all along the ground. All nine were strewn along the
ground with ropes bound around their ankles. Harry's stomach sank. They were doomed before they
could even defend themselves. He struggled for a better plan but could not think of one. There were
still about fifteen students left, so the Slytherins that got the opportunity to shoot a few spells
must have hit their few targets.

*I have the advantage. They do not know where I am, but that will only last for a few seconds.
Hermione will cast the detection charm and find me. Fifteen targets is almost good enough for one
Fulminare, but if they block it me, that will leave me drained.*

Anger. It was what fueled the spell and he plenty of it.

He leapt at the chance.

*“**Fulminare!”*

Harry didn't wait to see who it struck. He cast the Disillusionment Charm as soon as
Hermione's counter-jinx went into effect. Ron Weasley was still standing so Harry transfigured
the sand on his feet into stone. Weasley was surprised when he couldn't move and even more
surprised when he was hit with a Body-Binding Hex. Ducking a Stunner, Harry fired one back and then
used a Summoning Charm on Parvati's necklace. She always wore it and it was a mistake as it
jerked her neck forward without snapping. Parvati tumbled face down and Harry hit her with another
Body-Binding Hex.

A Tripping Jinx caught him and threw him off feet momentarily. Regaining his balance, Harry
swung around and conjured a wire. He whipped it in a wide arc, sending it through the air as it
struck down three more students. They were up and moving before he could Stun them and he counted
that as a loss. A *Protego* had to be brought up as a Stunner was on target. The spell bounced
off his shield. Harry rolled, trying to make himself a smaller target. There was hardly anything in
the environment to use and the Disillusionment Charm broke as Hermione applied the counter-jinx
once again.

Coming to his feet, Harry was dismayed to find ten targets still facing him.

Hermione was in the center, her wand pointed at his torso while the others were slowly fanning
out. These were no incompetent Slytherins. There were a few things he could try, but his thoughts
were consumed on the fact that none of the Slytherins had lasted more than a few seconds. A stray
thought crossed his mind. *Perhaps if two people levitated Goyle and Millicent, then they could
have had their shields facing upwards. Two people underneath them would just shoot spells while
having cover.*

*Why didn't I think of that sooner?*

Harry dropped his wand.

It disoriented them for about two seconds, just enough time for one spell.

*“**FULMINARE!”* Harry punched his hand into the air as he called lightning one more
time.

Hermione was ready.

She pushed three students straight into the spell with a Banishing Charm. It struck the three of
them and the rest of the spell dissipated on conjured items that the other students had created.
Seven cries of *Stupefy* put him down.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Hermione sneaked out of the Gryffindor Tower, mindful of the patrols. She was experienced at
dodging them at this point, but it never hurt to be cautious. Around the corridor and then down the
swinging staircase she went. Two left turns avoided the Great Hall and she had to pause as a
Prefect passed in front of her. Down and down she went until Hermione reached her cave.

She opened it by tapping seven bricks and muttering a charm. The dry mud squished against her
feet, the brown walls reflecting the light from her wand. It was after midnight and the castle was
quiet. Her heart beat furiously with anticipation. As she reached the atrium, Hermione paused and
looked up.

There was something about the lake that allowed the moon's light to still reach the cave. It
must have been hundreds of feet below the surface, but it was still clear enough for her to see the
outline of the moon. It bathed the cave in an eerie darkness, an ever shifting shape that was
played games with the eyes. Hermione lit the torches and dispelled of the shadows.

She laid her book on one of the tables and sat down as if she were preparing to study.
Discretely moving her wand in a practised shape, Hermione uttered the incantation she had
researched.

*“**Revelare Cretin.”*

Across from her, a small figure appeared.

It was tiny, barely coming up to her knee. It wore what looked to be a clean pillowcase. The
skin was a sickly shade of gray, almost leathery. It was all skin and bones, so thin that Hermione
was afraid to touch it. Only it's eyes were large. They were prominent and were set up on the
upper half of its head. The ears were twitching, swaying side to side to some unknown tune.

It was also knitting.

“Hello,” Hermione said.

The creature looked up and stared right at Hermione. Then, it looked side to side as if looking
for someone else. Hermione kept staring at it right in the eye, trying to remember everything from
the *Creatures* book she had borrowed from the library. When the House-Elf realized that
Hermione wasn't talking to anyone else, it jumped.

“Oh no.”

The House-Elf snapped his fingers and then disappeared.

“No, no, no!” Hermione stood up and dropped her wand. “I'm not here to hurt you or anything.
I just figured you were here all this time. I promise not to say or tell anyone anything.”

*House-Elves are bound to their Masters. Their greatest fear is disappointing their
Master…*

Hermione struggled to remember all the quotes as she continued rabbling on, trying to convince
the House-Elf to show itself again.

“Please. I just want to talk to you for a second…”

The House-Elf reappeared, cowering and shaking in the corner. Hermione approached it slowly and
kneeled down until they were eye level.

“I'm Hermione Granger,” she introduced herself.

The House-Elf bobbed his head up and down. `I know who you are, Miss Granger. You
shouldn't...you shouldn't be seeing me.”

“I know, but I realized that I felt your presence,” Hermione lied. It was a theory she had, but
there was no way to know that it would be a House-Elf.

“You shouldn't be seeing me,” he repeated.

“I'm sorry,” Hermione said. “But can we just talk for a moment? Can I have your name?”

After a moment, he replied, “I'm Dobby, House-Elf of Hogwarts.”

“Hello, Dobby.” Hermione did not extend her hand. She knew from the book that House-Elves would
shriek in dismay if she were to do so. It was a barbaric way to treat them.

“We shouldn't be talking, Miss Granger,” Dobby muttered quietly.

“It's okay. I don't care that you're here. I don't mind it at all actually. So,
you don't have to be ashamed or scared or anything like that.”

Dobby looked like he disagreed. He was shifting ever so slightly on his feet, his eyes darting
from one corner of the cave to another as if he were trying to escape.


“Master gave strict instructions not to be seen,” Dobby said to himself.

“But if I don't care that I can see you, doesn't that override that?” Hermione
asked.

Dobby frowned. “I don't...I don't know. Ahhhhhh!”

He screamed and started bashing his head with his own fists. Horrified, Hermione grabbed his
wrists to stop the self mutilation. How could Hogwarts possibly employ these creatures?

“Dobby! Stop it! I order you to stop!”

And miraculously, the House-Elf stopped. Hermione frowned for a moment, wondering why Dobby
would listen to her. Everything she read indicated that the House-Elf was slavishly obedient to
their master. It clicked in her head as she thought it through. It was all in how Dobby introduced
himself.

“Dobby. I command you not to hit yourself,” Hermione sternly ordered.

“I...I...I can do that?” Dobby appeared to be waging an internal war as if he didn't know
whether he could obey that order.

“You're a House-Elf of Hogwarts, right? That means that you have to listen to me as well as
I'm part of Hogwarts.” Hermione hated that she would have to order him, but small steps had to
be taken first.

Dobby frowned, his large ears flopping about. “I suppose I do…”

Hermione nodded, trying to reinforce the idea. She had not a clue of what the bindings that
House-Elves had to follow, but it was clear she had some hold over Dobby. It sickened her.

“So it's entirely okay that I see you. You don't have to hurt yourself.”

Slowly, Dobby lowered his hands. He still looked perturbed, but he seemed to accept the
loophole. Hermione backed away when she was sure that Dobby would no longer harm himself. She sat
down and sighed.

*I was right. Snape was spying on us with House-Elves all along.*

For the longest time, she knew there had to be some way the Headmaster was keeping track of
them. It was highly suspicious that Snape would not keep an eye on them. Her theory was further
validated when Harry approached Snape after Justin's attack and the Headmaster's punishment
was no more than a slap on the wrist when all things were considered.

“Dobby, I know you have your orders and you don't have to betray them, but I need a moment
of privacy here,” Hermione gently said.

Dobby was on the verge of harming himself again. He said, “I'm not supposed to leave you.
Master said to keep an eye on you. I can't keep an eye on you if I leave you.”

“So you watch me...all the time?” Hermione asked.

The House-Elf flushed, the color strange on his gray skin. “No! No! It's not what I meant. I
just meant...I can't leave you here.”

Hermione was afraid of pulling this card, but she had no choice in the matter. The Second Task
was tomorrow.

“I have to do some private things. Things that I can't really do when I'm in the
dormitory or anywhere else.”

The House-Elf thought for a moment and then spoke, “I can disappear then. You don't have to
see me.”

*Here it goes.* “You can't see me either. I have to...you see, Dobby, I have to take
care of myself.”

“Take care of yourself?” Dobby slowly repeated.

“Yes. You've probably been in Hogwarts long enough to know that girls sometimes have to take
care of themselves. Late at night. On their own. Preferably in private.”

“Like using the lavatory?” Dobby offered.

Hermione sighed and almost smiled at his naivete. “Dobby, I have to touch myself. I just wanted
a moment alone for that.”

The realization dawned on the House-Elf and while Hermione felt guilty for lying to the poor
creature, she could not help the smile that broke across her face as Dobby sputtered his way to an
apology. Dobby promised to give her ten minutes by herself or more or however much time she wanted.
Hermione bit the inside of his cheek as Dobby walked out of the cave, visible to assuage her fears
of deception. For good measure, she cast the creature revealing spell one more time just to make
sure and found nothing.

*Ten minutes.*

Hermione began undressing.

In her bag, she pulled out the the cork and examined the crude engraving she made. It was a
picture of a lion fittingly. She brought out a small vial and pricked her skin. Dropping a few
drops of her own blood into the vial, she corked it and then produced a syringe. Hermione injected
the whole vial into the cork, saturating it there was a slight blush of red. Laying the cork down,
Hermione brought forth her wand and enchanted the spell.

*“**Tenebris Atro. Tenebris Atro. Tenebris Atro.”*

The cork started to smoke, a thin wisp of gray rising and curling into the air. Hermione
swallowed down her fear. Luna said that marks were inherently dark. While she didn't agree with
the Ravenclaw, Hermione was fighting it hard to classify this type of magic as light. She pressed
forward willingly.

*“**Tenebris Atro. Tenebris Atro. Tenebris Atro.”*

She was tired of being less powerful. She was tired of Harry's ease with wandless magic.
Even Cedric, indirectly, had demonstrated a magical power that she envied. If she were ever to
compete, then these were the risks she had to take.

*“**Tenebris Atro! Tenebris Atro! TENEBRIS ATRO!”*

Black smoke poured from the cork as it fizzled and boiled. It hissed, alive with magic and
power. Hermione dropped her wand and picked up the cork. She gasped at the heat as the cork was
scalding to the touch. Quickly she jammed it against the side of her left breast where no one would
see it. Hermione screamed as she held it for the necessary seven seconds. Damned wizards and their
obsession with the number seven.

When it became unbearable, Hermione dropped the cork.

It plopped against the ground, but it was no longer covered in smoke. The cork was blackened all
over, near unrecognizable. Hermione examined her fingers and found them unburnt. They were just
covered with soot. She lifted her left arm and looked at the mark she placed on herself.

The dark outline of a lion stood out against her pale skin. If she looked closely enough,
Hermione could see the lion's mane bristle. She shivered, feeling something cold run through
her body. Poking at the tattoo with her finger, Hermione found it cold to the touch. She bent down
to pick up her wand and felt a different thrum as she wrapped her hand around it. Her body felt
different. Her body felt...alive.

She dressed herself and gathered her belongings. Lastly, she made sure to shrink the burnt cork
and stuff it into the pocket of her robes. Disposal was necessary. When she stepped back into the
dungeons, Hermione waited and called out, “Dobby?”

The House-Elf appeared this time, shuffling his feet and not meeting her eyes. He was still
embarrassed apparently.

“I'm sorry about that, Dobby,” Hermione said.

The House-Elf sheepishly nodded. “Are you all done, Miss?”

Hermione smiled, feeling the lion push against her chest.

*We will find out tomorrow.*

-------------------------------------------

**A/N: Apologies for the slight delay.**

**Update time: Sunday, mid afternoon - late evening**
 Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7
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43. Of Ice
----------



Harry dreamt of Hogwarts. He was slithering inside the walls, snaking in and out of the various
drainage pipes. He was searching, trying to find someone. So close...so close...

Harry awoke to the sounds of an argument. He reached for his wand but found that he was already
holding it. He eavesdropped on the conversation, waiting to make his entrance.

"...can you not wait just one day?"

"What's the point? We have to tell him now."

"I can't believe you! I can't believe you did this!"

"I didn't do this. They voted on it!"

"Voted on what?" Harry pulled back the drapes and stepped out of bed.

Tracey was glaring at Blaise, her arms stiffly at her sides and her fists clenched. Blaise
grunted and turned away from her, looking Harry square in the eye. Draco was in the room as well,
but he was seated on his bed, watching the confrontation with a drink in his hand. They were all
dressed since they still had class. Harry, as a Champion, was excused for the day.

The palpable tension in the room was not missed upon Harry. A clear argument had taken place
between Blaise and Tracey. Draco remaining the room was not by accident either. Whatever had
occurred in the dormitory had started long before Harry awoke. He couldn't help but feel
ambushed by the situation.

Blaise tried to maintain eye contact, but he looked away when he spoke.

“The Slytherins held a vote late last night,” Blaise said.

“A vote on what?” Harry repeated himself.

Tracey looked away while Draco maintained his cool composure. Blaise fidgeted but lifted his
head and looked Harry in the eye. From his posture, Harry knew that Blaise was ready to delivery
unfavorable news.

“On a six to two vote, the Slytherins have voted that you step down as leader and Commander of
the Fourth Year Slytherins.”

Harry couldn't help but smile. “Six to two? Do I get to know who voted for me?”

Blaise jerked his head towards the other two people in the room. “Tracey and Draco both voted to
keep you in place as Commander.”

It was no surprise to Harry that Tracey sided with him. She was unwavering in her support. That
Draco sided with him as well was much more of a surprise. Harry suspected that Draco would jump at
the chance to remove him from his position of authority, but perhaps Tracey had truly gotten to him
like she said.

It was a surreal moment for Harry. Never had he thought they would actually *vote* on the
subject. Never had he even considered they would not want him as Commander. They had done so well,
leading the other Houses in the lists and boasting a far higher winning percentage than the other
Houses. He laughed at the ridiculousness of it.

“Is this all about yesterday? Losing an unwinnable match? You saw how Snape set it up. It was
designed for us to lose,” Harry hissed, stepping closer to Blaise.

Blaise might have been taller and physically more formidable, but Harry saw him shrink as he
closed the gap between them. There was a fear in his posture that was unmistakable. Harry took
another step towards his friend, demanding answers.

“And you? How did this vote come about? Was it you who started it? Was it you who wanted me
out?” Harry peppered him with question after question, unrelenting.

Blaise found his nerve. “Yes, it was me. For months, you have been acting erratic and behaving
without composure. You have disrespected everyone in our Year. You have been inconsistent in your
approach and it has generated wildly unpredictable results when it has to come to Battle
class.”

“We have been winning,” Harry interjected.

“Sporadically,” Blaise emphasized. “We acknowledge that you have led us to more victories than
losses. We're not blind. With each passing battle, it has become apparent that our progress is
detriment to our victories. We are tired of being belittled by you. We are tired of facing
unrelenting aggression on your part. We have been trying, Harry, but as much as we try, there has
been no recognition on your part. Conversely, we have dealt with your problems.”

“*My* problems?!” Harry asked incredulously.

“Yes. *Your* problems. You've passed out in the middle of Battle. You have missed
several key opportunities for victories due to poor management. Frankly, Harry, you just seemed
burnt out.”

“And that deems me unfit for command, then?”

Blaise nodded, his jaw set and his eyes forward. “This is not permanent by any means, but the
overwhelming majority have voted and feel it is a detriment to still have you in command.”

Anger brewed in Harry's chest. Blaise stated it all so matter of factly. There was no
remorse in his words. There was no apology. Blaise really thought he was unfit for command or had
convinced himself that Harry was unfit to lead. There were spells on Harry's tongue, several of
them meant to harm. His wand felt light and his feet shifted into a battling posture.

“And who is set to command? You, I expect,” Harry spit out venomously.

“No,” Blaise answered, surprising Harry. “They held a separate vote and the consensus as to who
should take over as Commander is Draco.”

Harry whipped his head towards the blond still sitting on his bed, sipping on a drink. Harry
scrutinized him closely and was on the verge of using Legilimency on him. He could feel the command
slipping from his fingertips. These decisions had been made in secret and without him. It was not
something that was a spur of the moment decision, he realized. They had been planning this for
quite some time.

Upon that realization, Harry's anger deflated.

He folded like a popped balloon, shrinking away from Blaise and sitting down heavily on his bed.
Blaise looked at Tracey, who had a worried expression on her pretty face. The tall Slytherin did
not approach Harry and turned towards the doorway, realizing it was time to leave. Before Blaise
left, he turned back and addressed Harry.

“This isn't permanent, Harry. But you're not well.”

The door slammed behind him and there were only three left in the dormitory.

Harry could feel the emotions seeping out. He felt tired, though he had just woken. He felt
exhausted, though it was the beginning of the day before the Second Task had even begun. He felt
drained. All of the tension building for the past few months had snapped and he felt hollow. He
looked at his hands, calloused and rough. He dimly heard Tracey speaking in soft undertones to
Draco.

Malfoy stood to leave and before he left, Harry called out, “Congratulations.”

Draco turned smoothly and nodded his head ever so slightly. He made eye contact with Tracey and
a meaningful look passed in between them. Then, he left and there were only two in the dormitory.
Tracey gingerly sat next to Harry on his bed, maintaining some space between them.

The silence that settled around them was suffocating. As each second ticked by, Harry felt more
and more constricted. It was a strange duality, the drain of his emotions and the tightening around
his neck. His mind raced, trying to process the mutiny. That was what it was. It was a nonviolent
mutiny, but it was a betrayal nonetheless. Worst of it all, he had not seen it coming in the
slightest.

“Did you know?” Harry asked.

Tracey bit her lip and twirled her hair. She knew. Harry did not need to hear her say it.

“Yes.” She confirmed his thoughts. “I tried to convince Blaise not to go through with it, but he
was insistent. I don't think he ever recovered from being held back during that one
battle.”

“I don't think he did either,” Harry agreed.

Another silence fell upon them, ambushing them with its severity. There was nothing that could
be said, no words that could alleviate the pain Harry felt. Tracey seemed to understand as she said
nothing. There were no fake sympathies she could give.

“I think I'm done, Tracey.”

“Done with what?”

“I don't know. With everything, I suppose,” Harry said.

“What does that mean?”

Harry thought about what it meant. He thought of Fleur and the anguish in her cry as she
banished him. He thought of Snape and the mocking tone right before he entered the Room of
Requirements. He thought of Trow and Lupin and the lessons they continued to give him about Riddle.
He thought of Blaise and the rest of the Slytherins.

How did the vote go? Had they all raised their hands immediately when the decision came? Was it
a secret ballot?

He thought of Aristophanes and that damned article that soured his relations with almost all of
the Slytherins. He thought of the Second Task and what obstacles they had created for him now. He
thought of Justin drowning beneath his hands. He thought of dragons and fire and blood. He thought
of Vernon and the smack of leather against his skin. He thought of Tracey hanging from a rope. He
thought of the forest and the lightning he created from the sky. He thought of Hermione and her
dead parents.

Tracey touched his shoulder and a shiver passed through his body. He thought he would cry but he
felt nothing. Just an emptiness in the pit of his stomach.

“I think I want to leave Hogwarts,” Harry finally answered.

He heard Tracey take a quick intake of breath. Her hand held firmly on his shoulder as if he
would fly away at any moment. She scooted closer and took his chin in her hands. Tracey lifted his
head until he was staring into her blue, teary eyes.

“And go where, Harry? Back to the awful Dursleys? Back to being a Muggle? What would you do if
you weren't here?”

Harry didn't have a good answer to that. There was nothing else for him but Hogwarts. Before
Hogwarts, his life had been miserable. The only reason he had not run away from the Dursleys was
that he had nowhere else to go. There was no one else to turn to. If he left Hogwarts, what else
was there?

“You belong here, Harry. You're the greatest wizard I have ever and will ever know. The
things you've done...the things you will do. What's happening right now is just a bump in
the road for you. I know it. Fuck Blaise. Fuck the rest of them. Fuck Snape. Do *not* let them
beat you, Harry.”

He shook his head, still staring at his hand. “I can't. There's just too much.
Everyone's asking for so much.”

“Then let me help you. You try so hard, Harry. You try so hard to shoulder the load all by
yourself. Blaise is an idiot and an arse of the biggest proportions, but he was right about one
thing. You're breaking apart.”

Tracey caressed his face, swiping her thumb along his cheekbone. Harry looked up from his hands
and met her eyes again. There was such sincerity in them. She was a friend he did not deserve.

“Don't let them tear you down. Don't let them split you apart until there's not
enough of you to give. Look at all you've done. Slytherin is feared by the other Houses.
You've created a spell. You're the youngest tournament participation in a century. Look at
all you've accomplished!”

She was right, in a way. But she was also wrong.

“To what end? All of that for what?” Harry asked.

Her mouth gaped open in response but before she could answer, there was a knock on the
door.

“Tracey,” a muffled voice said. “Professor Slughorn is here for you. The matter is urgent and
he's requesting your presence immediately.”

“Wait just a minute!”

“It can't wait, Tracey! Slughorn said now!”

Tracey sent a murderous glare to the door and let go of Harry's face. She was still thinking
of an answer to his question, but could not find one in the timeframe available. He met her gaze
for a moment. She surprised him by throwing her arms around him and engulfing Harry in a tight
hug.

She whispered in his ear, “I love you, Harry Potter. Remember that. I'll find you before the
task starts.”

------------------------------------------

Harry ate breakfast alone.

The other Slytherins were crowded at the end of the table. Not a single one had come over to
apologize or express any sort of regret for the vote that had taken place. Blaise kept shooting
furtive glances over at Harry. Once or twice, Harry thought that Blaise was trying to catch his
eye, but Harry just kept his head down.

His head was muddled and his body moved lethargically. Snape stood to announce the Second Task
and directions to the observation posts, but Harry heard none of it. He was in the middle of a
hurricane and he was deaf to the world. His limbs moved of their own accord and his jaw moved up
and down to chew the food, but he wasn't thinking.

When they called for the Champions for a briefing, Harry shuffled along with the rest of them.
They reached a spare room that was being used as a staging area. One by one, they were called by a
woman that was behind a partition. Each Champion exited the area dressed for the Second Task.

The body clothing was similar to the First Task with the exception of the color. Instead of
black, each Champion wore long pants and a long sleeve shirt. Ludo Bagman explained that they had
several enhancements to keep their bodies warm. He winked as he said this, but no one acted
surprised. Heavy robes were layered on top of them. The inside was lined with some sort of fur and
their names glittered on the back. They were also white.

At some point, Cedric sat down next to Harry. Harry was reminded of the previous year when he
first met Cedric. It was a situation not so different than their current one.

“Do you remember your Bubble-Head charm?” Cedric asked.

Harry nodded and tapped his head.

“Good. Good lad. Are you okay? You've been quiet.”

“Just thinking through some things. Have you always been leader of the Hufflepuffs in your
class, Cedric?”

Cedric pondered the question for a moment and then shrugged. “More or less. My Dad says it comes
naturally to him. Normally, I wouldn't agree to that sort of generalization, but someone has to
take charge. I try to do it without being an arse though.”

“I suppose that's the key. Don't be a complete arse and people will like you.”

“They don't have to like me, but I do hope they listen to me. There's nothing else I can
really ask for besides that.”

He was genuine and honest. Cedric saw the world in such black and white. Harry doubted he would
approve of some of the things he had done in the past year or two. Then again, Cedric did not seem
to have the problems that Harry had. He was self-assured and confident. Even now, he was not
nervously pacing the room or bouncing his knee.

“Are you nervous?” Harry asked.

“Me? No. I used to get nervous a long time ago, but why get nervous? We know what we know and
I'm confident in our abilities. If we win, then we did a good job. If we lose, then we have to
improve. Those are the things I know and no amount of anxiety can change that.”

Harry wondered if his life could be that simple. For some reason, when he won, more people hated
him. When he lost, people celebrated. On the same token, he could not afford to ignore what people
thought of him. Half his reputation was built on his myths and legends that he would perpetuate.
Things were easier for Cedric, but the Hufflepuff made it easier on himself.

“I'll be ready, Cedric.”

Cedric nodded and clapped him on the back. “I know you will.”

The Hufflepuff Champion made rounds with everyone else, taking time to remind and reassure them
of various objectives. Harry observed him, noting that others deferred authority to him without
question. He caught Hermione's eye and walked over to her. He sat down next to her, keenly
aware of one or two people watching them intently.

She looked at him expectantly and asked, “Is Fleur going to be a problem?”

Harry honestly didn't know. Earlier in the week, all he felt was anger and shame. Now, that
same emptiness still resided within him. He didn't know how to feel. If he was forced to duel
Fleur, would he succeed?

“She's not going to be a problem.”

Hermione nodded her head, absent mindedly fiddling with the collar of her robes.

“There are heating charms embedded within them. They're also heavy. For a moment, I thought
they were going to ask to swim in the Great Lake, but I don't think they will if this is what
they gave us. Perhaps they will put us on an island? I know there's a few in the lake.”

She was all business and conjecture. Her mind was consumed with the task at hand whilst Harry
could barely think straight. As she talked though, he started to get a feel for the situation
again. He responded to her questions regarding the task and his mind started flowing again. By the
time everyone was dressed, Harry felt somewhat more normal.

He resolved to push back the business with Blaise and the rest of the Slytherins until after the
task. He couldn't abandon the rest of the Champions now. After the Second Task, there were
things he had to consider. He had meant what he said to Tracey. Perhaps there was very little for
him to go back to. Perhaps Hogwarts was his only home. But for the first time, doubt had seeped
into his head.

“Champions, come with me!” Ludo Bagman yelled.

They stood in unison and exited the makeshift staging area. They were paraded in front of the
Great Hall to the cheers of the home supporters. More people were gathered on the path to the lake.
There were reports and Ministry officials and all sorts of other folk that Harry did not recognize.
Most were cheering for Cedric and the other notable Champions. Harry bitterly noted that only a
handful of Slytherins were in the crowd and none were holding signs for him.

What was the point in fighting for a House that openly hated him? Why did he give so much to
only receive so little? Resentment built in his stomach as he descended to the lake. The path
turned muddy and the crowd thinned out. He searched the crowd for Tracey and was disappointed to
find her missing. She almost always was true to her word. Where was she now?

There were three large barges chained to a dock at the edge of the lake. The other two schools
were already present. Harry steadfastly avoided looking at Beauxbatons. He even went so far as to
keep his back turned to them and his eyes focused on the Durmstrang students. Once again, he noted
how physically imposing each Durmstrang Champion was. It was unnatural.

“Champions!” Ludo Bagman hopped onto a slight dias and placed his wand against his throat,
amplifying his voice.

“Welcome to the Second Task! As a refresher, the standings are as follows: Beauxbatons is in
first with twelve points. Durmstrang is in second with nine points. Hogwarts trails just behind
with eight points. Similar scoring will be applied to this task with one exception.”

Ludo paused for dramatic effect, a smug grin on his expressive face.

“Each Champion from each school has been assigned a person of interest. This person of interest
could be a sibling, a friend, something more than a friend.” His grin grew wider. “This person of
interest has been taken and sedated and will need to be rescued during this task. They will be
henceforth referenced as a VIP or a Very Important Person.”

A disconcerted murmur broke out from the Champions. Harry could see that not all of the teachers
looked particularly thrilled with the idea either. Except for Snape. Snape looked nonplussed.

“Now let me finish!” Ludo raised his voice and shouted out the Champions. “Each school will have
roughly half of both of the other school's VIP's. For example, Hogwarts would have half of
Beauxbatons and half of Durmstrang's VIP's.”

“Each school will be awarded one extra point for each VIP retrieved. Should Hogwarts return with
all eleven VIP's, they will be granted all thirteen points.”

Ludo Bagman was absolutely giddy at this point. There were audible complaints and questions from
the Champions, but he ignored them.

“Each school will have a designated safe area that they need to return the VIP's to. Should
a school retrieve a VIP from one of the other schools, they must be stopped before being returned
to the safe area.”

Ludo's voice dropped as he adopted a stern expression on his face.

“These VIP's are *not to be harmed.* You have permission to use a wide variety of
spells against each other, but these VIP's are not to be used as shields or hostages. They are
to be escorted back to the safe areas. You can disable your opponent in whatever *non-lethal*
manner you can find. We have been approved to give a lot of leniency to the spells used, but know
that we will be watching. Any spell or act deemed as over the line will be punished harshly. You
will be removed from the tournament pending punishment by the school *and* the Ministry.”

The smile returned to Ludo's face.

“You shall be escorted to your starting safe area in these barges. Use whatever strategy you
find necessary to win. The task will end in two hours. Only VIP's returned to the safe area
before these two hours are up will count as points.”

Hermione raised her hand in the air.

“Yes, Miss Granger?” Ludo asked.

“Sir, where will take place?”

Bagman gestured behind him to the open lake. There was a heavy fog that obscured visibility, so
it looked like Bagman was gesturing to nothing but the water. Ludo grinned toothily as he gave his
answer.

“Patience, Miss Granger. In a moment, you will see your battleground.”

----------------------------------------------

The barge cruised silently along the lake. Cedric was at the front, discussing tactics with the
rest of the Hogwarts Champions. Harry sat quietly near the back, sitting with Trow. The Strategy
professor volunteered to escort the Hogwarts Champions with one Ministry official. Towards the
front, they were busy arguing on whether or not to split their forces or keep them consolidated and
try to pick up their VIP's one base at a time.

“Why don't you join them, Harry?” Trow asked, his complexion looking even worse than the
last time Harry had seen him.

“Cedric will tell me where I need to go.”

“I'm sure he would value your input. Your skills in Strategy are nothing to be
underestimated.”

“I'm sure you think so.”

Harry looked out over the lake, watching the fog roll just off the surface. It was clearing
slightly, but there was still no sign of their battleground. The barges holding the other schools
had long since disappeared behind the heavy mist. There was still an emptiness in Harry's
chest. He felt a distinct lack of motivation.

“Are you doubting your abilities?” Trow asked.

“No,” Harry answered honestly. “I don't doubt them. I just doubt what I'm using them
for.”

“How do you mean?”

Harry could hear Roger vehemently arguing that they should split up their groups. Cedric
didn't seem opposed to the idea. Hermione suddenly interjected and asked to be split into three
groups. The others thought it preposterous. It would weaken them too much. Harry didn't think
it was a bad idea.

“Harry?” Trow prompted him.

He found an answer. “Professor, why are you training me?'

The question seemed to take the sickly professor aback. It took Trow a moment to respond.

“You're the brightest wizard we've had since the inception of this program. With what
you know, there was little choice but to train you.”

“But there are other wizards, right? Others that you train or could train. I can't be the
only one.”

Trow coughed and brought up a handkerchief to wipe away spit from his mouth. “There have been
other wizards. None have deemed worthy enough to continue training. Given our timeline, I'm
afraid that there will be no more wizards to train. You are our last project.”

Harry nodded, thinking just as much. Cedric seemed to have decided to split into two groups.
There was just the problem of coordinating each group. Signalling in the air was the easiest
method, but that was a practical announcement of their intentions. Hermione jumped out of her seat,
exclaiming something excitedly.

“What happened to the others? The wizards before me?” Harry asked.

Trow sighed. “They all had the same problem. They were not good enough. Not strong enough. Not
smart enough. Not brave enough. There was always a problem. So far, you've exhibited none of
those issues.”

“Haven't I?”

“Not as far as we're aware of.”

Harry knew that they tracked his every movement. Did Trow know that Harry knew? Was the
professor playing dumb for his benefit? Did they know about Blaise's mutiny? Did they know
about Fleur? These questions trolled through Harry's mind and he had no answers. If he was
their last hope, then Trow was not going to like what Harry had to say.

“After this task, I'm afraid I might have to reconsider my role here,” Harry said.

“Reconsider what?” Trow asked, clearly surprised.

“I don't know if I want to continue on with this program.”

“We all fall upon hard times, Harry. That's no reason to quit.”

“I know,” Harry said this plainly and without noticeable complaint. “It's just tiring. They
have Tracey, don't they?”

Trow did not nod. Once again, Harry took the absence of an answer as a yes.

“Of course they do,” Harry whispered. “They wouldn't have it any other way.”

Trow fell silent and Harry was glad the professor didn't bother giving him a pep talk. Once
he retrieved Tracey and finished the task, he would sit down with her and explain why he would be
stepping down from all his roles. She was right. The Dursleys was no place to go back to. She was
wrong. There would be no great Harry Potter. It seemed Snape had decided that for him.

“Merlin's balls and cock,” Fred gasped.

The fog gave way and a massive structure appeared before them. At first, it appeared to be a
building but as the barge drew closer, it was clearly a mountain. From a distance, it seemed as if
snow was resting on top of the lake. Upon closer inspection, there was a large sheet of ice
underneath the snow. Small hills and ravines were carved out of snow, giving the whole landscape a
hillside feel.

From what Harry could see, the ice block curved on each edge. If he had to guess, the whole
battleground was circular and the mountain was in the middle. To make it fair, each base of
operations would most likely be equidistant to each other. Snow started falling from the sky as
they approached and Harry held out his hand to feel it melt against the dragonhide gloves that
Tracey had given him.

“Did the teachers build this?” Harry asked Trow.

“Most of it,” Trow said proudly. “A little help from our friends underwater sped up the
process.”

The barge bumped against the ice and stopped. Trow stood and shuffled over to the port side of
the barge. He opened a gate and stepped out of the way. One by one, the Champions hopped out onto
the ice. George Weasley was the first through and unceremoniously tumbled on the ice. It was clear
the elements would not be in their favor. Harry was the last out and landed gracefully in a snow
pile. The winds picked up as the snow whipped around their faces.

“Remember,” Trow called out. “The VIP's are not to be harmed and there are to be no lethal
spells. Do not tempt us to expel you!”

Then, he disappeared.

The fog rolled around them and all that could be seen was the icy mountain. Straight ahead was a
tent and surrounded by glowing lights. Cedric trudged forward, finding his footing in the uneven
snow. He stopped and said a spell, pointing at his boots.

“Lightweight Charms on your boots!” Cedric yelled back. “Apply as much as you can. You won't
sink in the snow as much.”

The others mimicked his actions until they reached the tent. Cedric pulled off his gloves and
pulled back the flap. He gasped and stepped inside. The others pushed their way forward until the
tent enveloped them all. Inside, it was considerably warmer. The tent was enlarged from the inside
and held thirteen comatose bodies, suspended in mid-air. Harry walked around, looking at their calm
faces. They were men and women, boys and girls of all ages. There was a little girl with silver
blonde hair that could only be Fleur's sister. Harry stopped over her, noticing how similar
they looked.

“Dear Merlin, why would they do this?” Cho breathlessly asked.

“Heighten the stakes,” Cedric said grimly. “Hundred Galleons they have my Dad.”

“Neville,” Hermione said.

“Ron. Ginny.” The twins said it unison.

Round and round they went, all declaring who their respective person of interest would be. Harry
gripped his wand tighter, a warmth rushing down his arm. Tracey was in one of those camps, probably
knocked unconscious by Professor Slughorn when he had come to retrieve her.

“They didn't hurt them though, right?” Marietta asked as she gently pushed one of the
bodies. It floated for a few feet and then stopped.

“No. They wouldn't do that,” Cedric said. “We still have to get them back. Look at
that.”

The Hufflepuff pointed to the corner of the room at an hourglass the size of an owl cage. Sand
slowly trickled through the neck, every grain a second lost.

Cedric organized them into two parties. Roger Davies would lead the party going northeast.
Joining him would be the Weasley twins, Angelina, and Stephen Stebbins. Cedric would lead them
northwest and would be joined by Hermione, Cho, Marietta, and Lee. Harry would be joining
Cedric's party as they decided to leave the VIP area unattended. They had debated earlier on
whether or not to leave a token guard behind, but they were shorthanded already. Their goal was to
maximize points and retrieving all of their VIP's was the best way to do it.

After some more direction from Cedric, the groups were ready. Roger's group disappeared
around a bend that had a snowy bluff. Cedric set the path as they moved northwest into a valley
covered with snow on each side. Harry reached a hand out and found there was a solid base
underneath the artificial hills. It wasn't stone or rock. It almost felt like hard snow. He
lingered as the rearguard of the formation.

His senses were picking up and his heart rate increased. That familiar feeling of battle was
returning to him and he felt a comfort in it. To Harry, there was nothing as natural as stepping
into the unknown with his wand in hand. He licked his lips, tasting the falling snow. He wet his
mouth, readying them for spells that would be uttered.

The mountain was in between the paths the two groups had taken. If the teachers had any sort of
logic to them, the bases would be located in a rough triangle so that each school had the equal
chance of reaching the other. Using the sparse sun to find their location, they reoriented their
base as the pivot and set their path with the corresponding angle. Hermione had ingeniously charmed
a piece of twine so that when one was struck, it would vibrate the other. A rudimentary but silent
signal.

“Pick up the pace. Let's get the jump on them,” Cedric ordered.

Applying the Lightweight charm on his boots, Harry kept the pace. They were in a staggered line
with enough distance in between them so that they weren't all caught in one trap. Cedric was
running point, storming ahead bravely. Harry made sure no one was following them and kept a roving
eye for any other keys. He couldn't help but think the mountain would have made an advantageous
scouting point. It was too late to suggest that to Cedric and Harry admonished himself for not
speaking up sooner.

“You see it too?” Hermione asked over her shoulder, noticing him gazing at the mountain.

“Yeah,” Harry answered. “Would have been good to get someone up there.”

“But how to signal anyone? You're not going to be hitting anyone with spells from up there,”
Hermione said.

It was true, but one person near the top of that mountain could see everything.

They came upon a split in the path. To the right was a snow covered ravine. To the left, a snowy
cliffside gave way to a stretch of uncovered ice. Cedric grit his teeth and chose the leftmost
path. Descend any further and they would open themselves up to a trap. The ice was not nearly as
slippery as they thought and they kept a good footage as they continued northwest.

The snow was letting up and the visibility cleared. An eery silence dominated the group. Only
the crunch of their boots against the snow and ice interrupted the silence. Harry felt a tingle
along the back of his neck, an anticipation that heightened his senses. Magic was close. He could
feel it.

“Eyes up,” Harry called out from the back, letting them to know to stand at attention.

They were being watched.

Turning ninety degrees, Cedric held out a fist and they fell into a covered formation. To
Harry's right was a small hill that he pressed himself against as he awaited instructions.
Cedric beckoned them forward one by one until they were grouped underneath an ice arch. He motioned
for Harry to look around the corner.

Four bodies were floating in the middle of a small clearing. They weren't close enough to
see exactly who it was, but any Hogwarts student could identify that shock of red hair. It was long
and flowing and had to be Ginny Weasley. There was no protective tent nearby. There was nothing
else in the visible distance. The clearing was slightly depressed so that a small bowl curved
around it.

“It's a trap,” Harry stated the obvious.

“Yes it is,” Cedric agreed. “Now how to spring it without getting caught.”

Hermione craned her neck, looking for any obvious spots the others could be hiding. “No
immediate vantage points. Limited cover. They could be Disillusioned but I know the
counter-jinx.”

They readied themselves as Hermione performed the counter-jinx, but if they were Disillusioned,
they were not close. Hermione's spell produced no results. Cho and Marietta both tried their
hand at a couple detection charms, but they all came to the same conclusion. If the enemy was
there, they were using advanced charms.

“Why would they leave them out here?” Lee Jordan asked, tugging on his dreadlocks.

“It's bait. Very old trick. Very simple. Bait that we can't choose to avoid,” Cedric
reasoned.

They mulled over their options for a minute until they arrived at one that seemed low risk.

“Disillusioned. Slow approach,” Hermione said. “Fan out behind me and I'll retreat at the
first sign.”

Harry could have taken her place, but he was one of their better duelists. It made no sense to
expose himself like that. Hermione had volunteered on the basis of the strength of her
Disillusionment charm. When she tapped the top of her hand with her wand, Hermione vanished. Only
the barest of visual ripples could be seen as she moved.

Finding a low snow bank, Harry laid down on his belly and watched her careful approach. Each
step she took brought her further out into the clearing. Harry watched the visual cues intently,
waiting for the trap to be sprung. There were a variety of spells on the tip of his tongue, but
which one he would use depended on their vector of attack. Hermione was growing ever closer. Harry
then noted something disconcerting. She was making footprints.

Hermione was almost ten feet away from the VIP's when the trap was pulled.

She reappeared in the clearing, the Disillusionment charm counter-acted. To her credit, Hermione
only froze for a moment before bringing up a *Protego.* Harry was surprised to find that her
shield was far larger than one she usually produced.

But she was pointing it the wrong way.

A flash of red sizzled downwards through the air and Hermione's arms snapped to her sides.
It was a *Petrificus Totalus* strangely enough. As she dropped her wand, Hermione teetered on
her feet for two seconds. Another flash of red scratched through the air and a burst of red bloomed
from her shoulder.

Blood.

They were either too shocked or too surprised to return fire. Cho and Marietta fired random
spells into snow piles in the distance, but Harry waited, trying to find the source. He used
another detection spell and still found nothing in the immediate distance. Harry could see Cedric
out of the corner of his eye rising from his hidden spot.

*The spell came from above.*

Harry jumped from his snow pile and raced across the slanted hillside. Just as Cedric was ready
to go into the clearing, Harry hurled himself through the air and tackled the larger Hufflepuff.
Cedric fought him for a moment, trying to wrestle the smaller boy off him.

“What the bloody hell are you doing, Harry?” Cedric exclaimed.

“Don't go out there,” Harry hissed.

An annoyed expression crossed Cedric's face. “We have to get out there, form a protective
shield and bring her back.”

Harry shook his head, the snowflakes flying from his air. He wiped his glasses and looked out at
Hermione again. A pool of red was starting to form around her body. It was a small cut, but the
blood was made more obvious against the white of the snow.

“We cast our detection spells four times. There's no one around here,” Harry argued.

“There's obviously someone!”

“Yes, but they're not close. Did you see the spell? It came from an upward angle. Someone
was firing down at us.”

Cedric looked around while on his haunches. There were small hills but nothing more than a few
feet above their heads. There was certainly nothing close by that warranted the incoming angle of
the spell.

“There's nothing close…” Cedric muttered.

“Exactly. And if they wanted to knock Hermione out, then they could have just used a Stunner.
Whoever it was hit her with a Body-Binding charm and then a Cutting curse. They drew blood for a
reason.”

Cedric might have been blinded by his affection for Hermione, but even he could see the
conclusion Harry was drawing.

“They're trying to draw us out.”

“Yes,” Harry agreed. “An old trick and one that anyone could use since it's no secret how
you and Hermione are.”

Cedric buried his head in his hand but regained his composure. He ran a hand through his hair
and looked around, desperate for an answer.

“I still don't get it. Are our detection spells wrong?” Cedric asked.

“Mines are rarely wrong,” Marietta said.

“She's probably right.”

As much as it pained him to agree with Marietta, there was no way several detection charms could
be wrong. Excluding all other reasons, there was only one obvious conclusion. The attacker hit
Hermione with an accurate spell from a distance outside of their detection charms. It came from an
acute upward angle that could only be possible from a substantial height. Harry looked towards the
mountain.

“Someone's up there, Cedric. There's your trap.”

Lee Jordan's mouth fell open as Harry pointed to the mountain. “That's a few hundred
meters! No one can is that accurate with their spells from that far.”

Harry disagreed.

Another flash of red jumped through the air. This time, Harry was sure he saw it come from the
mountain. It struck Hermione again and a mist of blood burst through the air. Cedric started and
Harry had to physically wrestle him down again.

“Let. Me. Go.” Cedric said through gritted teeth.

“No. No. No.” Harry yanked him down with each negative response.

“We can't just sit here,” Cho said worriedly.

“We won't,” Harry said.

His head was suddenly clear. Any residual effect from the argument he had in the morning was
gone. He was in battle and there was an enemy. It was an enemy that Harry had not encountered
during his time at Hogwarts. Duels were always held at a visible range. If he couldn't see
them, Harry couldn't hit them. Whoever was hitting Hermione was at a range that was seemingly
impossible.

But nothing was impossible with magic.

*Hold on, Granger.*

-------------------------------------------

“Did you bring what I needed, Peter?”

“Yes, Voldemort. All acquired through untraceable means. It took some time to acquire the
crystalline powder, but we have acquired the amount you required.”

“Good. And what of the families that have been contacted?”

“They are prepared, but they are being monitored. From what intelligence I have gathered, there
are clear divisions in the Ministry. There is an organization beyond the Aurors and they are the
ones that are monitoring the old families.”

“As to be expected. And recruitment?”

“Selective, as you ordered. Only those who are committed to the cause and susceptible to
coercion by the Ministry. Most have no ties to the Ministry as well.”

“Well done, Peter. Excellent work.”

“Have you decided when to attack?”

“I have to decided when. I have decided how. But I have not decided who.”

“I thought that would be obvious.”

“Yes, I thought so too, but there are many exceptions. There are many who can be persuaded to
join us should we frame the situation correctly. It is no use to massacre everyone. Framing is key,
Peter.”

“And the boy? Have you decided what to do with him?”

“No. I have not.”

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**A/N: Projected update time - Tuesday late evening or Wednesday evening**
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44. The Second Task
-------------------



Time was not in their favor.

“Lee, you're in Medical. How much time does Hermione have?” Harry asked, pressing his back
against the bluff so that he was completely out of sight from the mountain.

“To stay alive?” Lee Jordan asked incredulously.

“No. Until she falls unconscious.”

“Oh!” Lee was relieved and did some mental math. “It depends on how deep the cut is. If it's
already pooling then it was a pretty substantial laceration. For someone Hermione's size, it
would just depend. Twenty to thirty minutes maybe? More if she can take it. It all depends.”

“And can you patch her up if we get her back soon?”

“Yes, I can mend the cut, but she will still have lost a lot of blood. I suppose I could try a
field blood transfusion, but it would be my first time without supervision.”

“I thought the environment had to be sterile to do that.” Harry tried to call the hospital shows
that Aunt Petunia would always watch.

Lee shook his head, the locks spraying snow. “No, it's not like how Muggles do it.
There's a magical binding we can use. Let's just hope someone here has the same blood
type.”

Harry nodded, grateful that there was a chance for recovery. That still meant they would have to
rescue her without the shooter stunning Hermione from a distance. Harry surveyed the battlefield,
generating possible solutions in his mind. Every second that passed was crucial. They would happen
upon their undefended hostages soon.

“I don't understand how they could be hitting us from that far away,” Cho complained.

Indeed, it was a valid complaint. Harry knew for a fact that there was a physical limitation to
certain spells. There were some spells that disregarded distance. There were other spells that had
to travel over time and could be avoided. Yet, the general rule was that they had to be in
one's line of sight. There were always exceptions of course. The Summoning Charm was an easy
example of a spell that did not require line of sight.

Battle class had allowed them to practice with the varying distances they could throw a spell.
Harry could hit someone accurately with a Stunner on the move from up to fifty meters away, but the
mountain was a few hundred. In order to hit *anyone* with a spell, it would require some
engineering.

“He has some sort of device that is shooting spells over a distance,” Harry concluded.

“Like a gun?” Lee asked.

“Exactly like a gun.”

“A gun? Like a Muggle gun?” Cedric craned his head and Harry had to yank him back to make sure
he didn't expose himself.

“Yes. A sniper to be more exact,” Harry said.

Vernon would always watch these war movies. Most were based in the European theater of World War
Two. Inevitably, there was a sniper that would wreak havoc from a distance, picking soldiers off
one by one. The theory behind it was not all too difficult to understand, but the practical aspect
of spells from a distance was not something Harry had ever considered until now.

“Most likely, he has an enhanced viewing apparatus of some sort. Think of it like Omnioculars
attached to a wand that can shoot spells several hundred meters,” Harry continued to explain.

They started shuffling along the hillside, taking care to keep cover from the mountain. They
were getting closer to Hermione's position, but the cliffside eventually ended and the rest of
it was an open field of ice. The snow crunched underneath his body. Harry listened for any other
activity and heard nothing but the wind.

“That's still impossible,” said Marietta. “We're not allowed to bring anything with us
besides our wands.”

“That's the genius of it,” Harry argued. “Whoever this is didn't bring anything with
them either. Maybe they did, but they would have disqualified them by now. The far more likely
explanation is that they transfigured it.”

“A transfiguration into a device that delivers spells over long distances,” Cedric muttered as
he scooted across the snow. “That's ridiculously advanced.”

“Ridiculous but not impossible,” Harry said.

The person must have bolted straight for the mountain. There was no way to know whether or not
there was an extra clue in the riddle that signalled such a high vantage point. Either way, this
shooter used the landscape to their advantage and had them pinned down. If one person could hold
down an entire corridor, that would allow the others to focus their resources on retrieving their
VIP's.

They reached the very edge of their cover. It was open ground from their position to Hermione
and the rest of the VIP's. Hermione was just on the edge of his spell distance. Any closer and
he could perhaps throw a *Protego* shield over her, but she was still too far. Cedric must
have been thinking the same thing.


“Why don't I just bring up my *Protego* shield and keep it up until I reach Hermione and
the VIP's. If you're right, he can only throw offensive jinxes and curses at us. I
don't think he's going to be transfiguring anything nearby or hitting us with a charm,”
Cedric theorized.

True. The shooter had to use a spell that could travel over distance. If Cedric remained crouch
and behind his *Protego* shield then that would keep him covered all the way to the
targets.

“We could also use Obfuscation charms and Smoke charms to cover the area as well,” Cho said. “If
this shooter is using something like Omnioculars, then they wouldn't be able to see if we put
in those charms.”

True again. Both of these ideas were good in theory, but they were also the first thing to come
to mind when combatting this sniper. This person obviously had talent. They were so familiar with
the device that they could transfigure other objects to serve the same purpose. It only stood to
reason that they would have thought of these detractions as well.

Harry was careful not to voice these thoughts aloud. The more time they spent debating, the more
likely they were to fall behind. A plan was needed and they did not have the luxury of developing
one that was infallible. Luckily, Cedric seemed to have regained some of his acumen.

“They would know that. They would know we would try to obscure their vision or use a shield to
block any spells. Why else would they wound Hermione? Even the dimmest person would realize how to
counter someone from a distance. I know spells that can augment Omnioculars to see through walls
and other objects,” Cedric said.

“And you know these spells?” Marietta asked with a raised eyebrow.

Cedric waved her off. “Yes, but not for the reasons you think. Omnioculars can also be augmented
to see through difficult conditions like fog and smoke. If they transfigured their device, then
they would have to know how to spell their seeing crystal to look past smoke and obfuscation as
well.”

*Good lad. You're thinking straight again.*

While they were discussing what do next, Harry had been packing together a mound of snow so that
it formed a block. Satisfied with the shape, Harry concentrated and transformed the block of snow
into a similar sized mirror. Objects that were like in shape were often easier to transfigure.
Next, Harry scooped together some snow until it formed a cylinder. Harry would have to thank Tracey
for the gloves when he rescued her. Twice now, they had proven useful in battling the elements.

Harry pursed his lips and focused on his wand movements until the cylindrical snow pile turned
into a hollow metal pipe. They were simple transfigurations at the end of the day, but they would
serve their purpose. Harry scooted closer to the rest of the group and happily interrupted
Marietta's bitching to lay out his plan.

Once roles were assigned and the objective understood, Harry prepared himself.

Applying the Lightweight charm to his boots, Harry pushed off and ran. After five paces, he
planted his foot and abruptly changed direction. The sniper would take their time, but Harry did
not intend to make this easy for them. Most likely, this wizard or witch would wait until Harry was
close to Hermione and would line up their shot accordingly. Harry jabbed his foot hard into the ice
and almost slipped. If he fell, it would be the end of his role in this tournament.

*This is a good place to take the shot.*

Harry broke into a straight sprint and hoped luck was on his side.

*“**NOW!”*

Cho lit her wand with a *Lumos* as Harry directed. The tip of her wand was within the
hollow pipe that Harry transfigured. The pipe concentrated the light into a beam. Cedric raised the
mirror until it was in line with the beam of light generated from the pipe. The makeshift
flashlight reflected off the mirror. Cedric shook the mirror, sending flashes of light towards the
mountain.

A red spell sizzled through the air, wide and high. Harry thanked his own ingenuity as he jumped
into a slide, the cool ice skidding along the bottom of his thigh. He neared Hermione and tapped
her body with his wand and whispered, *“Finite.”*

The sound of shattered glass filled the air and Harry could hear Cedric cursing profusely. He
did not bother turning around. Racing along the ice, Harry jumped head first just as another red
spell crackled over his head. Coming to a stop behind the VIP's, Harry jumped up and started
flipping their bodies sideways. They were easy to manipulate as they were suspended in mid-air. He
flipped the four bodies until he could crouch behind them without exposing himself, using them as
cover.

No doubt they would dock points for this little stunt.

“Hermione,” Harry hissed, beckoning the Gryffindor to join him.

She stumbled to her feet, still bleeding from both shoulders. To her credit, she followed his
zig zag approach. Over her shoulder, Harry spotted Cedric transfigure a pile of snow into another
mirror. Raising the mirror in front of him, Cedric used the beam of light and wiggled the mirror to
create the blinking effect that Harry theorized would distract the sniper. Another spell crackled
through the air and broke the mirror a second time. This time, Cedric fell down and only a
well-timed *Protego* saved him. The Hufflepuff scrambled behind cover before the sniper could
get another hit in.

Hermione crashed into him, almost throwing them both out of cover. He grabbed hold of her, his
blood instantly darkening with blood. The ice made it hard to find purchase with their footing.
Eventually, he settled her down and resumed their position behind the floating bodies.

“Good thinking distracting the shooter with the mirror. At this distance, the littlest
distraction can throw off his aim by a good margin. I also felt a twinge in my pocket. Roger's
group must have found one of the bases. They're moving in on it.”

“Shit,” Harry said. “We're behind schedule if they've already found one of the bases.
That has to mean they're going to be closing on ours soon.”

Hermione nodded as she clutched her left shoulder. Harry motioned for her to move a hand away.
She gingerly released it and hissed. It was hard to see with all of the blood and cloth. As Harry
squeezed her arm gently, he could see new rivulets staining her robes. The cut was still
bleeding.

“He got me deep on the left shoulder. The nick on the right has already coagulated I think.”

“You're sure the sniper is a he?” Harry lifted the cloth and winced at the deepness of the
cut.

“Easier than calling the shooter an it. How bad is it?” Hermione asked through gritted
teeth.

“Do you know the spell to stitch this up?”

“The spell is *Episkey.* The wand motion is a `V' and think of repairing my skin,”
Hermione spit out.

Harry attempted the spell and watched as the skin stitched together over the cut. It only lasted
a moment before it ripped open again and a fresh gush of blood spurted from her shoulder. Harry
leaned back as flecks of blood splashed against his face. Hermione groaned in pain and pushed her
hand against the laceration.

“Again!” Hermione ordered.

Harry forced himself to look at the cut and performed the spell again. It was better this time.
The skin looked more whole. He siphoned off the blood until the area was mostly clear and found no
more bleeding. Squeezing her arm, Harry found that the spell did not break.

“Just couldn't get it right the first time,” she grumbled. “What's the plan?”

Hermione usually had fair skin. Given the temperature and the climate, it wouldn't be
unusual to see a lack of color on her face. What was unusual was the heavy breathing and shakiness
of her hands. Harry ripped one glove off and laid it again her forehead. Her skin was clammy, not
just cold.

“Blood loss,” she said angrily. “Not enough to put me into shock, but I'm going to need a
transfusion.”

Harry nodded. “Lee said as much.”

The sound of another mirror shattering forced Harry to confront their situation. Cedric and
company was still pinned behind a bluff. The Hufflepuff was desperately scooping up snow to
transfigure it into another mirror, but Harry yelled out for him to stop. The shooter had taken a
shot at them since Harry placed the VIP's between them. There was still the matter of
traversing the rest of the open ice plain.

“We can just float the bodies along to keep us covered, but it will take some time. We have to
keep ourselves covered,” Harry talked aloud, waiting for Hermione to come in with her ideas.

“We're taking too long.” Hermione reached into her pocket and pulled out a curved stick with
a string attached on both ends. Harry could visibly see the vibration and knew that Roger was
encountering something in his direction.

They couldn't hide from the sniper forever, but the mountain was such an advantageous
position. Wherever they want, there was always the possibility that the sniper could see them.
Whoever it was purposefully faced this direction as well. Their only hope was to keep it distracted
or attempt to obscure his vision.

Harry unfastened his robes, leaving him only in a long sleeved shirt and pants. They were both
charmed for warmth, but he still felt exposed.

“On my mark, sprint for the rest of the group. I'll throw up some Obfuscation charms and a
couple other tricks to cover our tracks,” Harry ordered as he prepared a few spells.

“What about the VIP's?” Hermione asked.

“I'll take care of them too.”

She shook her head. “Split them up into two's. I can guide two of them along while you give
cover.”

Harry agreed and allowed her to take Ginny and another Hogwarts student he didn't recognize.
The two other VIP's were people he didn't know. Judging by their facial structures, they
looked to be Eastern European, but that didn't mean anything. He yelled over to Cedric what
they were going to attempt. Hopefully, the sniper didn't have advanced listening charms as
well.

“Ready? Mark.”

Harry threw his robes in the air and hit it with an Enlarging charm. He held the spell for a few
moments and then maintained a Levitation charm. He mixed in two Obfuscation charms as well and it
would have been a miracle of the shooter could hit them. Harry pushed the two floating bodies as he
broke into a quick jog. Hermione was ahead of him, convoying the two other VIP's.

Spells shredded through his robes, carving large holes in them. The sniper was getting impatient
and using Cutting hexes. If one of those spells happened to hit the VIP's, Harry assumed they
would have to get qualified. The spells flew through the air, focusing on one area in particular.
Harry realized that the location of the Cutting hex was purposeful. The sniper was carving out a
window of visibility. Harry directed an Obfuscation charm at a gap that the Cutting hexes had
created.

Crouching so he could use the VIP's as cover, Harry pushed through the open gap.

There was a tiny gap in between the arms of the two VIP's. Harry had positioned them so that
there were as few gaps as possible, but he didn't move every limb and body part. It was no more
than a few inches of daylight in between the bodies.

A Stunner flew right through that gap. It was so close that Harry could see the beam flash
across his eyes. Another centimeter and he would have been knocked out cold and another rescue
operation would have been made just for him. Pushing along the two VIP's, Harry finally reached
cover.

“Bloody hell, they're good,” Harry exclaimed as he sat down in the snow. He counted to ten
and brought up his Occlumency shields. Extending his hand, he found that it was as still as a flat
board. His heartbeat was steady and slow.

Lee immediately performed diagnostic spells on Hermione. He frowned and grimaced as thin wasps
of different colored spirits floated from his wand to Hermione. Harry pulled Cedric aside to hammer
out the rest of his plan.

“We need to keep going. Roger already reached one of the bases and we're lagging behind
here.”

Cedric nodded, his eyes never leaving Hermione. “Agreed.”

Harry grabbed his arm before he could leave. He was getting a little annoyed with the
Hufflepuff. His feelings for Hermione were clouding his judgement.

“Listen, whichever school set this trap must have split the VIP's as well. There's only
four here. I'd expect them to have a few more back at their base, but also split off three or
four more and leave them in another area. That shooter is going to be harassing us the whole time.
Even if we found half of our VIP's, we would still have to truck them back to our base.”

“What are you saying we do then?”

Harry took a deep breath, his mind churning out the possible solutions. He was more and more
sure it would be the incorrect decision to keep pushing on to retrieve the rest of the VIP's.
Whoever devised the plan was brilliant while Hogwarts had foolishly left their base unattended and
unguarded.

“Spit this group up. Send Hermione, Lee, Cho, and Marietta back to our base to defend it. You
and I should go across and support Roger. It was a mistake to ever leave ourselves undefended.”

Cedric looked at Harry sharply and he met the Hufflepuff's steady gaze. After a moment, the
bigger boy nodded and shuffled over to the rest of the pack. There, he relayed Harry's plan. It
sounded sweeter coming from Cedric's tongue. He had a way of phrasing his words so that it was
more readily accepted. There was a ridgeline they could use to head back to the home base with
plenty of cover from the sniper.

“Sorry to say, but we can't move Hermione that fast,” Lee stated.

“I'm perfectly fine,” said the girl with the sickly pallor.

“She's lost a good amount of blood and needs an immediate transfusion. I can do it...but
it's going to hurt and we need a matching blood type.”

“Let's be quick about it, then,” said Harry.

Lee would make a small cut on the back of their hand and then tap his wand on it. Murmuring a
few words, he would lift the wand until the blood turned a different color. Green. Blue. Yellow.
Black. None of them were matches until Lee drew a speck of blood from the back of Harry's
hand.

Black and black.

“Looks like you're the lucky boy,” Lee said as he ushered them closer together. He made
another incision on both of their palms and had them grasp hands.

Lee looked at Harry first. “You're going to feel a wee bit doozy at first, but you'll
recover sooner. We're only taking a little blood from you.”

He then turned to Hermione and grimaced. “It's going to feel like someone's taking a hot
poker and sticking it up your arse.”

She shook her head at his piggishness. “Less talking. Get on with it.”

Lee Jordan shrugged and tapped his wand on their joined hands.

Hermione screamed and cursed Lee to all hells that could possibly exist.

----------------------------

With four VIP's in tow, it was a slow march back to their base. Hermione still felt ill from
the blood transfusion though Lee assured her it would get better. She cursed herself for being
caught out by the sniper though upon review, there was little she could to defend herself. The mark
against the side of her chest was stinging. Nonetheless, Hermione continued onwards.

They went slower than Hermione would have liked, but the potential of the sniper hitting them
was too great. He had gone quiet and not fired a spell since their retreat. Hermione took that as a
good sign. Harry and Cedric would still be on track.

A few landmarks indicated they were close to their base and Hermione alerted Marietta. The
Ravenclaw nodded back and proceeded forward more cautiously. She periodically threw out Detection
charms and found nothing, but the other Champions would not be far away. Running through some rough
calculations in her head, Hermione guessed they were about five minutes away from the base. She did
a quick calculation of the size of this ice island and theorized it would take Harry and Cedric ten
minutes to be within the general vicinity Roger and company. The twine that they used as their
signal had not vibrated in quite some time.

“Contact,” Marietta whispered.

They ducked in unison, casting Disillusionment charms on themselves. Hermione still didn't
feel one hundred percent, but her hands had stopped shaking and her feet were a little warmer. A
blur moved along the snow as she positioned herself below a hanging icicle. Their base was in view
and the VIP's were already being led outside. Peering closer, Hermione saw the flash of
platinum blonde hair from a distance and made no mistake as to who it was.

There were eight of them in total, almost their whole group. Fleur was standing in the center,
ordering around the other Champions. Hermione counted three witches that were on lookout duty while
the others conjured rope to tie together the floating VIP's. They were only taking the
Beauxbatons bunch, an error since they could take some of the Durmstrang hostages and deprived them
of points.

*No Tireur.*

They were still vastly outnumbered and it would have been a colossal mistake to try to ambush
them. Their guards nearly numbered the attackers and Hermione had every reason to believe that they
were the stronger duelists. She did not doubt her own abilities, but the group with her was
definitely not the strongest team. Cho and Marietta were passable and Lee had a creative streak
about him, but Hermione did not delude herself. This was a poor strike team.

Hermione started surveying her surroundings, knowing she had to act quickly. The Beauxbatons
students still had to transport the VIP's back to their safe zone and Hermione had a strong
feeling as to who was going to be providing their cover. There was a small valley, a perfect funnel
for their return. Still, it wasn't nearly narrow enough to completely eliminate the numbers
advantage.

But there were other ways to create advantages.

“Cho. Marietta. Come here,” Hermione said in a low voice.

The two Ravenclaws shuffled over, two blurs making footprints in the snow.

“You still remember your Bubble-Head charms?” Hermione asked. When they both said yes, Hermione
questioned once more, “And how are your Sticking charms?”

“Good enough,” Cho answered.

Hermione nodded and reapplied her Disillusionment charm.

“Alright then. Take off your robes.”

----------------------------------------

With only two people and no VIP's to carry, Harry and Cedric made good time despite the
sniper. They took care when out of cover, popping Obfuscation charms and throwing off the timing by
staggering their runs. They cut straight across the ice island, coming rather close to the
mountain. Harry momentarily suggested to take out the sniper, but they were already behind in
time.

Across the snowy plains they went, stopping twice for breathers. When they finally reached the
other side of the ice island, they could hear the commotion before they saw it. Spellfire burned
the air as Harry and Cedric approached. Not knowing who was engaging whom, they crawled up a snowy
hill and looked down at the battle.

Roger was solo against three Durmstrang students. He was performing admirably, but was clearly
overwhelmed. When Cedric rose to assist him, Harry put a hand on his bicep and reigned him back. It
was no use trying to help him now. Someone cleverly transfigured the snow into sand and the slight
change tumbled Roger. Prone and on his back, Roger still managed to deflect a few spells before his
*Protego* shield deteriorated and he was hit with a variety of Stunners.

Harry counted four Durmstrang students left standing. Littered all over the ice and snow were
comatose bodies of students from Hogwarts and Beauxbatons. Judging by the fallen number of
Durmstrang students, it seemed as if Durmstrang were content to hold and wait for the two other
schools to come to them. Harry accounted for every single Durmstrang student, comatose and
standing, save for one.

Viktor Krum.

*Was he the sniper?* Harry asked himself. There was no time to dwell on such things. The
mountain was a good distance away and the terrain was significantly more varied.

Two on four weren't great numbers, but Harry was confident that they were more than capable
of taking them. Durmstrang's base of operation was at the edge of a bay of water. A half circle
cut into the ice and the Durmstrang students had been smart to stay on the other side and keep the
tent between themselves and the attackers. If someone wanted to get the VIP's, the Durmstrang
students would see them coming. They had made an unfortunate mistake though.

They were savoring the sweet taste of victory too long.

*Stupefy. Stupefy.* Non-verbal spells struck two Durmstrang students before they had a
chance to blink. Cedric caught on quickly and a hail of spells flew through the air. The remaining
two Durmstrang students were quick enough to avoid the fire and started countering. They were
skilled, but Harry was trained far better than they were. Their aim was sloppy and their
positioning hurried. Harry wondered how Roger and company had fallen to them. Any Hogwarts students
should have easily been able to take them down.

One of the Durmstrang students barked out a command in a tongue Harry did not understand. They
were drifting further and further towards their tent, retreating under the rash of spells.
Cedric's wand work was precise, efficient, and unrelenting. His spell casting was quick and the
hexes were varied and difficult to block. Harry cracked a whip of fire and snow turned to water as
he caught the edge of their robes. They neglected to put out the fire and Harry took his chance
when one of them was distracted and trying to extinguish the flame in his robes.

*Three down.*

The last Durmstrang was the bulky girl that Harry remembered from the opening ceremony. Her face
resembled a bull and she was as muscular as Cedric. There was a small lull as the three prepared
their next spells. Cedric shifted further away from Harry, making space so that she would have a
hard time defending both of them. There were a variety of spells that Harry could use. Knockback
jinx. Bludgeoning hex. Stinging curses. Harry was trying to decide on which one when he noticed the
tiniest of movements.

Her eyes darted over his shoulder for a half second.

A pile of snow exploded and Harry jumped out of the way, contorting his body, to avoid a spell.
Deflecting a Stunner with a *Protego* shield, Harry rolled to his feet and faced a giant.

The pile of snow hadn't exploded. Someone had *emerged* from the mound of frozen water.
Harry staggered backwards as he deflected another spell. He could hear Cedric behind him engaging
the Durmstrang girl, but Harry could not tear his eyes off the hulking monstrosity in front of
him.

Instead of cloth and robes, Viktor Krum was dressed in armor from head to toe. It was white and
gleaming though there was little sun. Adorning his head was a helmet with the horn. His eyes were
behind a transparent visor that gave him good visual range. In his right hand was his wand and in
his left, a shield that was approximately Harry's size.

Harry stumbled backwards, trying to put as much distance between them as possible. Viktor turned
and fired a Stunner. Harry reflexively raised a *Protego* shield but fell over from the sheer
force of the spell. His arm was vibrating from the ferociousness of Krum's Stunner.

Krum advanced.

The mammothian Bulgarian took lumbering steps towards Harry. Each step sunk all the way into the
snow until he reached the ice beneath. Though he moved at a quick pace, Harry noted that Krum
didn't have a complete degree of freedom in his armor. Each shining piece was flecked with tiny
ridges, but Harry could see the original source that Krum had used. Ice. His armor was an art of
Transfiguration that would have left Professor McGonagall floored.

But it had to be tested.

Cutting curses, Bludgeoning hexes, Bone-Breakers were all repelled. Harry was dismayed to find
that each piece of armor was infused with a *Protego* charm. How Krum managed to create such
armor in a short timeframe with just ice to transfigure was beyond Harry's comprehension. Magic
at Hogwarts had been focused on jinxes and hexes. While there were still other classes focusing on
other branches of magic, there was no doubt where the priority of their studies were. Harry knew
jinxes and curses that could disarm and harm a wizard for days on end, but this was something
else.

*“**Fulminare!”* Harry threw at Krum.

Krum raised his shield and the lightning spell fizzled around the edge, striking several parts
of the shield but never slowing down the man from Bulgaria. A separate battle raged behind him as
Cedric continued dueling the Durmstrang girl, but Harry tuned it out as he focused on
solutions.

Krum was slowly advancing on Harry, but he used his wand sparingly. It only took a second for
Harry to figure out the reason behind this prudence. If Krum had truly transfigured this armor and
infused it with enchantments, then a majority of his magic must have been tied up in maintaining
those enchantments. Even he was still bound by the principles of magical conversation.

As Flamel said, everyone had a limit.

Harry blocked Krum's simplified Stunners and other jinxes, but could not find a way around
his defense. The Durmstrang student was a walking tank and not a single one of Harry's jinxes
or curses had made a dent in his armor. They would bounce off without even causing Krum to
flinch.

“Got her, Harry!” Cedric yelled.

It was two on one, but neither of their spells were effective. Harry was careful to use his
attacking spells in between shields. Krum was fast and accurate with his wand but never quickened
his pace. He took a lumbering step, closing ground as he pushed the Hogwarts pair back to the
water.

Harry broke into a sprint, trying to place Krum in between them. Showing surprising agility,
Krum pivoted and Harry narrowly avoided another Stunner. Forced to bring back his *Protego*,
Harry was satisfied that the Bulgarian was now in between him and Cedric. Krum hesitated for just a
moment, but turned his full attentions towards Harry. Turning his back on Cedric, should have been
a fatal error.

The Hufflepuff Champion hit him with spell after spell, but Krum's armor did not break. In
fact, the Bulgarian didn't even bother turning around. He slowly advanced on Harry, increasing
the frequency of his Stunning spell. Harry kept his *Protego* up, but he was weakening. Either
Krum was insanely powerful or he had found a way to efficiently use magic in creating his
armor.

Harry could see Cedric sprinting towards Krum, but he yelled out, “No!”

Krum wanted them to close. That's why he wasn't bothering with any other strategies.
Eventually frustration would give way and would invite an up close attack. Harry didn't know
what Krum was planning to do, but that's what Harry would have done in his position. He shifted
his feet, trying to prevent himself from being cornered. His mind raced, but it was slow to come up
with a solution. He had never faced an opponent like Krum before.

Harry was suddenly struck with a thought and a word. *Unpredictable.*

He ran away.

Casting a Disillusionment and Obfuscation charm, Harry ran behind a hill. At the top of the
hill, he wordlessly cast a *Legilimens* on Cedric. If they were watching, it would like he
cast a failed spell, but he didn't want everyone to know about his proficiency at Legilimency
just yet. When the spell took hold, he relayed a thought.

*Keep Krum busy.*

Cedric started, clearly startled by the voice in his head. Harry ducked behind cover and
cancelled his Disillusionment harm. He wasted no time making preparations. Scooping up balls of
snow, he transfigured each of them into a rock that could fit into the palm of his hand. He left a
thin hole that cut through each rock from end to the other. After creating seven of them, he tore a
piece of his sleeve off with a Sewing charm and enlarged it. Soon, he had weaved the piece of cloth
through all seven rocks, forming a stone necklace.

Harry could hear Cedric blasting away at Cedric over the hill. Krum's distinctive gruff was
heard ever so often, but they were just trading spells to no avail. Neither was gaining an
advantage, but one would tire eventually. Harry had an unfortunate feeling that Krum was used to
this sort of marathon. How could they have overlooked Krum's proficiency in
Transfiguration?

*“**Gravias Facio. Gravias Facio. Gravias Facio. Gravias Facio...”*

The spell was intended for construction purposes. When applied to an object, the *Gravias
Facio* spell would make it heavier so various objects could be used as counterweights. It
required little magical energy as it was a charm as simple as *Wingardium Leviosa.* He applied
it generously to each stone. He stopped and then applied it to all seven stones again for good
measure.

With his free hand, he attempted to lift the string of rocks off the ground. Though Harry was
not particularly gifted with an abundant amount of strength, he doubted anyone could lift these
rocks off the ground. By his calculations, he had applied the spell so many times that the overall
weight had to be at least two tons.

*“**Detinent. Detinent. Detinent.”*

Applying so many charms to a transfiguration could easily weaken the structural integrity of the
object. The Dampening charm had worked with the transfigured metal during the previous Battle
class, so why not now? The stones did not look anything like snowballs, so Harry assumed they held.
This time, Harry found it much easier to lift. He still had to use two hands, but it was
manageable.

*Now for the hard part.*

Peeking over the hill, Harry found that Cedric was tiring against Krum. He didn't know how
Krum did it. Not only was the Bulgarian maintaining the transfiguration, he was only holding the
enchantments on the armor together as well as delivering powerful Stunners. Cedric had cottoned
onto Krum's strategy and was expending less energy, but he moving slower. His *Protego*
was slower and Harry could detect the barest flicker of Cedric's shield even from a
distance.

So Harry did what came natural to him.

He ran towards Krum.

Feet pounded against snow and his heart hammered in his chest. The awkward weight of the stones
slowed him down, but Harry leaned forward in full tilt. Krum might have discovered some sort of
magical efficiency secret, but he didn't have supersensory powers. Harry hoped Cedric saw his
approach and would distract Krum. The Hufflepuff did not disappoint.

Cedric put together a flurry of spells that caused Krum to raise his shield. Step by step, Harry
gained ground. He cursed himself for forgetting to apply the Lightweight charm on his boots. Ever
closer he came until he was just a stone's throw away from Krum. He closed the gap and
leaped.

Harry climbed on Krum's back and wrapped the circle of stones around his neck. He grasped
Krum's wand in one hand and pointed his wand against the circle of stones.

*“**Finite!”*

Krum collapsed headfirst.

Harry wrestled the wand away from Krum's meaty hand as the ice broke beneath them. The armor
had limited his mobility up to the point that he could not twist his arms to grab Harry. His metal
hands clawed at the anvil around his neck, but it was futile. The floor groaned beneath them as the
ice gave way.

*CRACK.*

The ground opened beneath them, the ice splitting apart from the weight of the stones crashing
against it. Viktor fell into the icy water and Harry followed. The water wasn't as cold as
Harry thought as he struggled to stay abreast. He took a large swallow of water and kicked hard.
Breaching the surface, he gasped and reached for any purchase. A firm grip took hold of his wrist
and pulled.

Cedric yanked him out of the water, the ice still crumbling beneath them. Drenched, Harry turned
around and saw the faint outline of Krum clawing to get the circle of stones off his neck. Down and
down he went, a shadowy blur slowly sinking into the darkness. After just a few seconds, Krum was
gone.

“You really don't take half measures, Harry.” Cedric gaped at the cracked ice.

With no one left, Cedric went to retrieve the VIP's while Harry took a rest. He peered into
the water, searching for some sort of sign that the Portkey was activated. *They wouldn't let
anyone get hurt. Think of Heather. She was on fire and they got her out.*

Cedric retrieved the rest of the VIP's quickly. He tied them up and set them into motion.
Their only obstacles would be the remnants of whatever Beauxbatons had left. Hopefully,
Hermione's group had done some damage to them on their return.

“Let's get back, Harry. Plenty of time left, but we can get full points still if we sweep up
Beauxbatons.”

Harry nodded, still looking into the water. *They wouldn't let anyone get hurt.*

Cedric started marching southwest to their base. It would be hazardous with the sniper still
about, but they would use them as a shield. Harry had not yet moved from his spot near the water.
His heart was hammering in his chest and though he denied why, he knew the reason.

*“**Homenum Revelio,”* he casted.

*There!* His wand twitched towards the water. Krum was still down there! *How long has it
been? A minute?*

“Let's go, Harry!” Cedric begged.

Harry shook his head. “Go. Just go! Krum's still down there.”

Cedric gaped and shook his head. Het let go of the train of VIP's and started walking back
towards Harry. Harry held out a hand and waved him off.

“Don't be stupid, Cedric. Just take them and get back. I can't...I can't leave Krum
down there.”

The Hufflepuff stared at the younger boy. Harry could not look up from the water. He was begging
them to activate the Portkey. *They would not let anyone get hurt.*

*“**Homenum Revelio.”*

His wand twitched again.

------------------------------------------------------------

The Beauxbatons group came right down the funnel between the valley. Hermione waited on the
other side, biding her time. She cancelled the Disillusionment charm and stepped out into the open.
Fleur narrowed her eyes as she spotted the Gryffindor girl. Three spells crashed into Hermione, but
it went right through her.

Fleur spun on the spot and fired three orbs into the air. Bright flashes of light consumed the
sky and revealed more Hermione doppelgangers. Each one disappeared as the ball of light touched it.
The real Hermione struck a Beauxbatons student down with a Stunner and then retreated.

Into the trap they went.

As the Beauxbatons students gave chase, spells came from beneath them. Hermione watched with
great satisfaction as they were caught by surprise from Cho and Marietta beneath them. Stunners
sliced through the sky. Hermione had cut a hole in the ice some distance away. With Bubble-head
charms, Cho and Marietta swam through the ice until they were right underneath the valley. Using
Sticking charms to keep themselves in place against the ice, they saw the shadows above and fired
away.

Hermione smiled as the Beauxbatons girls finally caught on and started firing beneath
themselves. Hermione took the opportunity to signal Lee to come out of hiding and they fired away.
Stunners flew through the air until there were only three Beauxbatons girls left. Unfortunately,
one of them was Fleur.

An eerie song filled the air as Fleur's eyes turned a magnificent blue. She grabbed a
handful of snow and threw it in the air. Cho and Marietta, with Bubble-head charms still active,
were yanked from the water and through the ice. They tumbled in the air and Hermione cast
Cushioning charms to break their fall. Spinning to avoid spell fire, Hermione fired two Stunners
and caught the two other Beauxbatons girls square in the chest.

The spells were strong enough to add an extra kick back as the girls crashed an ice block. Lee
had fallen into some sort of trance by her side as the eerie song filled the air.

“Lee! Snap out of it!” Hermione yelled as she started throwing spells at Fleur.

But Lee was standing there with a slacked jaw and his wand at his side. Fleur shrieked, no
*roared*, and the song grew louder. The Veela's hair was floating, but Hermione was not
afraid. Her own lion roared from the side of her chest as she stepped up to face the French girl.
Lee collapsed as he was defenseless against a Stunner.

Hermione held her wand in front of her body and started chanting. Fleur sneered, her beautiful
face contorting into something ugly and scaly. Hermione did not stand down, her wand still in front
and her mouth moving with words. Fleur raised her wand but in the blink of an eye, Hermione was two
inches from the Veela's face.

Of course, Hermione did not Apparate. They were still too close to Hogwarts' grounds to
Apparate. The spell was all deception. Repeating the incantation over and over, Hermione had
created a replica strong enough to be believable while she had Disillusioned herself. Fleur had
missed the sleight of hand and mistakenly thought it was the real Hermione.

“Too slow,” Hermione taunted.

The *Stupefy* hit the Veela's chest at point blank range.

----------------------------------------------------

A blur appeared in the sky, growing larger as it approached. A wizard on a broom almost crashed
into the ground in his haste. He was looking haphazardly around, tapping his wand against a small
button on his hand.

“Where is he? Where's Krum?!” The wizard agitatedly tapped his wand against the button.

“He's still down there,” Harry said.

The wizard shook his head. He had the Ministry badge pinned on his robes. “But the Portkey. The
Portkey should've worked...”

Harry wished he had studied the artificing of Portkeys. He had no idea why it wouldn't work
but perhaps being trapped by two tons of stone deep in the water had something to do with it. Or
perhaps it was his transfigured armor that was blocking the Portkey. Perhaps Krum had even
accidentally transfigured the Portkey itself.

“Get Snape. Get someone! Krum's drowning!” Harry yelled.

The Ministry wizard mounted his broom but before he pushed off, Harry called out to him.

“How long is it going to take?”

“Two minutes maximum or however fast I can fly,” said the wizard.

*Two minutes too long.*

“Then go!”

He kicked off, the snow flying into the air, and took flight. Harry watched him until he was
just a small dot in the sky. Two minutes was far too long. By Harry's estimation, it had been
almost two minutes already. Another two minutes was death for Krum.

Harry did not try to deny it. He was the cause of it.

In perfect conditions, using a Summoning charm on a human could result in accidentally tearing
their limbs apart. It was commonly known that using the Summoning charm on human beings without
excessive caution could result in disastrous consequences. Trying to summon Krum with two tons of
transfigured stone around his neck was nothing short of lethal.

But what choice did Harry have?

He jumped into the water and placed the Bubble-head charm on himself. Summoning charms worked
better when in the same medium. He floated just beneath the surface, looking down at the murky
lake. They were near the center of the lake where the depth was at its greatest. Krum could have
been over a hundred meters down. Harry pictured the large Bulgarian in his head. He pictured the
horned helm. He pictured the shining armor. He pictured the deathly weight he had put around
Krum's neck. He pictured it all and used Occlumency to lock the image into his mind.

*I can't be the cause of his death.*

Harry pointed his wand down.

*“**ACCIO VIKTOR KRUM!”*

The Dursleys had once taken Harry fishing on a rare summer trip. He was usually not allowed to
go with them, but no one had been available to watch over Harry. Afraid to leave him at Number
Four, the Dursleys begrudgingly brought him. A particularly large fish had taken Harry's bait
and he remembered the struggle as he pulled on the fishing rod.

It was the same sensation except the fishing rod was his body.

His back bent into a bow and though the water was cold, his body was on fire. Harry kept the
image of Viktor Krum ingrained in his mind, refusing to let go. His limbs felt like molten lead as
the magic fought against him. A thousand sharp needles stabbed his skin, but his mind remained
whole.

He screamed, the sound echoing in the bubble around in his head. Only Harry could hear his
scream as he pulled with all his might. Time was a forgotten dimension. His arms were shaking, his
hand seizing as he held tight to his wand. The muscles in his neck spasmed violently as he held on.
Through the murky water and the bubbles, Harry saw a figure rising from the water.

*You will not die because of me.*

It took everything, but Harry would leave no magic unused.

His voice was hoarse from yelling and tears streamed freely from his eyes. His body wanted
nothing more than to quit, but his mind held onto the image of Viktor Krum. Harry could see the
outline of Krum's armor, shining against whatever light broke through the water. The body
floated, closer and closer. A few more yards. A few more feet. Just a bit more…

*“**Finite.”*

The circle of stones turned into snow then water, the transfiguration breaking. Harry grabbed
Krum's arm, but his body did not cooperate. He was drowning. They were drowning. But Harry
would not let go. Harry tried to kick his feet, but his legs were not responding to his brain. His
body spent, Harry floated, slowly sinking from the weight of Krum's armor.

Then, Harry was rising. An arm from above pulled and he was suddenly above water. The
Bubble-head charm broke as Harry crawled for land or ice. He breathed sweet air and gray skies had
never looked so beautiful. Sitting up, he froze as he spotted his rescuer.

Karim Tireur finished pulling Krum from the water. Beside him was a contraption nearly three
feet in length with a viewing crystal mounted near the top. Water beads ran down Tireur's bald
head as he stared at Harry with his black, coal eyes.

“Hope that I do not lose because I had to save you,” Karim said venomously.

Harry closed his eyes and let the eventual Stunner take him.

----------------------------------

**A/N: Sorry for the slight delay. The updates will come a little slower now, but I'm
optimistic they will be on schedule.**

**Projected update time: 21 days**
 Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7
-->



45. Justifications
------------------



**A/N: Thanks to my beta, Bexis.**

-------------------------------------------------

The sky was black and hopeless. Stars were drowning in an empty abyss. A deep rumbling sounded,
almost as if it originated from within Harry's chest. It came from below - below the dungeons,
below the lake, from somewhere deep and dark. A hiss and the earth cracked opened. The very
foundations of Hogwarts split apart. Harry watched it all from the ice island in the middle of the
Great Lake.

He was not alone.

Harry turned to find a young man with long, dark hair. He had an air of familiarity about him.
Harry had seen his face somewhere before.

“Who are you?” Harry asked.

The stranger did not answer. The ice was starting to split apart, each crack hissing and
revealing the murky water beneath. Harry stood firm and extended his hand to the stranger, trying
to help him.

Suddenly, his scar burned.

Harry fell to his knees, the water churning below him. The stranger was unmoved, watching
Hogwarts disintegrate. The water itself seemed to reach up and grab Harry, steadily pulling him
down and dragging him underneath.

“Help!” Harry cried.

The stranger turned to look at Harry blankly. A mirage surrounded his face, obscuring the
stranger's identity. He looked at Harry and mouthed something. Harry kicked against the water,
trying to escape its icy grasp.

“Help me!”

At last, the stranger turned and knelt down. His hand reached for Harry. Fighting the lake,
Harry lunged forward and clutched the stranger's hand. He screamed. It was scalding hot, but
the stranger did not let go. Harry's flesh was burning, his scar tingling and his nerves
scorching. He could not decide between the icy water and the burning hand. The stranger's mouth
moved.

“Wake up, Potter.”

Gasping, Harry sat up. Beads of sweat covered his head. His back was soaked and his arms were
clammy. It was dark, but not the overwhelming darkness of his dream. This darkness was different, a
safe and familiar darkness. Harry laid back down, his heart still hammering in his chest. Lifting
his hand, Harry found his scar red hot to the touch and still tingling.

“Mr. Potter?” Madame Pomfrey pulled back the curtains around his bed and squinted down at him.
“Is everything alright?”

“What day is it?” Harry asked. He had a bad habit of passing out for long periods after using
extensive magic.

“The same day that you started. For once, you are not the most seriously injured student here.
That distinction goes to Viktor Krum. I had to struggle with Karkaroff to keep him here. That oaf
insisted on bringing in their specialists. The nerve of that man! I have been treating students
here for twenty years. I know how to handle pneumonia and a pulmonary edema.”

Pomfrey sat down at Harry's bedside, waving her wand to perform a few routine diagnostic
spells. Dressed in her white medical robes, her hair pulled back in a tight bun, she had a distinct
tightness to her face. Harry didn't know how old the mediwitch was, but she looked quite old in
the dim light of the night.

“I'm fine. Just had a bad dream is all,” Harry said.

She left him alone to contemplate his dreams and his mind. Try as he might, Harry was unable to
fall back to sleep. Standing up, he found that his body did not have the residual effects he
usually associated with magical exhaustion. Pomfrey would give him hell for it, but Harry gathered
his belongings and left the Hospital Wing. The hallways were dark save for the few torches. His
shadow stretched long across the ground. Every step brought him deeper into Hogwarts until he
returned to the Slytherin Common Room.

When he returned to his dormitory, Harry paused at the bed closest to the door. The curtains
were already drawn and Harry could see a shape inside. He remained there for a few seconds, his
mind trying to process why someone was in his bed.

“Draco took the bed by the door. We thought it was appropriate. *Lumos.*”

Harry snapped his head to the side, and saw Blaise. He was seated cross legged on his bed, his
wandtip brightly lit. Harry could barely see his face in the glare, but he knew the boy by his
shape and his size, and the grim expression on his face. Harry remained rooted to the spot until he
finally remembered the events of the previous morning.

“Right. I forgot.”

Harry found the drapes pulled back from the bed next to Goyle. His belongings were already
rearranged, no doubt by the House Elves. He laid down and drew his curtains, ignoring Blaise. Flat
on his back, Harry stared at the ceiling, not bothering to take off his glasses. His mind was
buzzing. He could barely form a thought. He just felt numb and tired...ever so tired.

As sleep continued to elude him, his thoughts turned to the Second Task. Surely, Cedric would
have returned with all of the VIP's before Karim could catch him. Then again, Cedric was
hauling a whole horde of floating bodies while Tireur only had to carry his contraption.

That Tireur was the sniper did not completely surprise Harry. He had felt a power from Tireur
the moment he met him. Still, his complex transfiguration had been beyond anything Harry had seen
at Hogwarts or even from McGonagall. Krum's was no less impressive. Transfiguration, as a
whole, was not emphasized at Hogwarts, since it didn't have much use in duels. It had some
benefits, but it was never the main thrust of an attack. But in skilled hands like Krum and
Tireur...What Harry had seen during the Second Task had changed Harry's perceptions.

Durmstrang and Beauxbatons might have not been as well trained in combat techniques, but they
were clearly taught other advanced types of magic. That other magical schools were equal to
Hogwarts was a notion that Harry had never considered. Hogwarts had always been his home. The time
spent at the Dursleys was a temporary prison or punishment until September returned and he could
again board the Hogwarts Express. Yet, there were other schools. There were other places. There
were other futures.

Trow and Lupin continually emphasized the importance of learning how to fight future Dark Lords,
but where was the proof that such a Dark Lord would even arise? They had him learning of the
history of these Dark Lords, but to what end? Why was Snape so insistent on punishing him at every
turn? Harry enjoyed the challenges. He could not deny that. He also could not deny the overwhelming
feeling of unfairness. What had he done to deserve such treatment?

The sun rose and only then did Harry return to a restless slumber.

------------------------------------------------

“Where is he?”

The question passed amongst the fourth year Slytherins as they waited for Battle class to
commence. They had only five more minutes until Snape arrived and Harry Potter was nowhere in
sight. He had not appeared in any of their other classes, so chances of him arriving on time for
Battle class was slim.

Tracey paced between two corridors, monitoring both of any sign of Harry. She craned neck,
trying to will Harry's appearance. No one came down the corridor.

“Are you sure he wasn't in the dormitory?” Tracey asked Blaise for the fourth time.

“I checked after Transfigurations and Charms. He wasn't there. We checked Trow's
classroom and he wasn't on the Omnioculars. We checked outside. We checked the library. We
checked everywhere,” Blaise answered.

*Not everywhere.* Blaise had of course neglected to mention the cave. If Harry were
anywhere, that was it, but Tracey couldn't find Granger either. She frowned at the thought of
those two together in the cave all day, but others had told her that they had seen Granger in
classes. Blaise's sources had her retiring to Gryffindor tower after classes.

*Where are you, Harry?*

Hufflepuff was today's Battle class opponent. It should have been an easy test for
Draco's first day as Commander. The blond had retained the moniker and asked them to address
him as such. Draco's initial commands had been quiet but firm. He was a far cry from
Harry's militant style.

Still, without Harry they were considerably weaker. Whatever anyone thought of him, all
recognized his talent and power. Their coup had been a rejection of Harry's leadership, but
without his skills, the Slytherin team was a shadow of its former self.

“Figures he would leave us. If Potter doesn't get to order us around, guess he doesn't
want any part of it. What a wanker,” Nott snarled as he stared at the Hufflepuffs.

Tracey grit her teeth and ignored the comment. It was their fault they were in this position
anyway. Harry was always their best chance of winning, and now they had flushed it away. She
wasn't blind to the problems Harry was having, but she could never forgive Blaise for the
mutiny. He had betrayed Harry. He had betrayed her.

Draco being leader was in direct contradiction of what Tracey wanted. She wanted Harry to resume
his rightful place as leader of the fourth year Slytherin team. She wanted Harry to feel good about
winning again. She wanted…

What she wanted was now in question. She could not sabotage Draco. She did not want Draco to
lose their battles. She wanted Draco to succeed. How was she supposed to reconcile these two
different ideas?

*If Harry shows up and helps, then Draco will win. I can live with that.*

Except Harry was still missing and only a minute remained until Snape arrived. The headmaster
was never late and he would undoubtedly start without Harry. Tracey checked the other corridor
again. Still no Harry.

“Give it up, Tracey. He's not coming,” Pansy said.

Tracey ignored the girl. She continued to stare down the corridor, trying to envision Harry. He
would walk slightly slumped, his head tucked into his chest. That was how he was when no one was
watching, so that was how he would appear if she first saw him. Then, as he approached, Harry would
stand straighter. A fire would light in his emerald eyes. But recently Tracey noticed that the fire
in his eyes was absent.

“Come on.” Draco laid a hand on her shoulder and turned Tracey around. She met his cold, silver
eyes. “We have to start planning the battle without him.”

Snape arrived precisely on time. His robes billowed behind him and he looked down his hooked
nose at all of them. His black eyes passed over the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs and he paused ever
so slightly as he counted the Slytherins. Tracey avoided his gaze and hoped to Merlin that Snape
would somehow delay this class.

“Slytherins first,” Snape ordered.

Tracey cursed silently and fell in line behind Draco.

---------------------------------------------

Deep within the cave, Harry sat cross legged at the edge of the small pond. He stared at the
water. Eventually, he extended his right palm outwards. He levitated a ball of water, concentrating
on the weightlessness of the object. He moved the first ball slightly to the left and then raised
another one. He added a third, feeling the strain of magic as his concentration began wavering.
Small drops of water fell from the cohesive spheres as he struggled to maintain the different
spells. Harry could only raise the fifth ball of water before it fell apart.

“I'm doing this wrong,” Harry muttered.

Harry had understood the general concepts of magical power for a long time. He wasn't as
quantitative as Hermione's approach always was, but generally understood one could only perform
a given amount of magic depending on one's innate power. Flamel's class reinforced and
expanded this belief. Based on his experiences, Harry surmised that wandless magic drained this
magical energy fastest. That conclusion was simple, as even the easiest spells, save for
*Fulminare*, were far more difficult to perform wandlessly.

“That means that several different levitation spells would be harder than one levitation spell,”
Harry said to himself.

Harry held both hands forward. Having a visual cue always helped. This time, he raised a sphere
of water the size of a large beach ball. While the object was larger, it only required one spell.
The complexity of maintaining several levitation spells far outmatched this ball's greater
mass. Harry then focused on casting a simple Divider Charm. It was usually used for household
chores, but he specifically used it to cut the big sphere of water into seven smaller spheres.

“Seven's a good number.”

The unexpected voice shattered his concentration. The seven watery spheres splashed into the
pond as Harry turned around. Hermione moved to his side and stared at the pond with him. She held
out her palm and her face squeezed tight in concentration. Harry stared at the pond expectantly and
gave her a few moments.

“I think I saw a ripple,” Harry offered.

“Quiet. I'll get there,” Hermione said.

She withdrew her hand and flicked her wand instead. A slim line of water rose from the pond. It
froze into an icicle in mid-air and then flew off and struck the cave's wall. The icicle
shattered and Hermione waved her wand again. The particles froze, then enlarged until each of them
turned into another icicle - a total of seven. Hermione waved her wand one more time. They turned
into drops of water that splattered on the ground.

“Like matter transfiguration. Not impressive,” Harry commented.

Hermione arched her eyebrow and flicked her wand again. The drops of water rose from the floor
of the cave. Hermione murmured some words and the clear drops of water transformed into hard metal.
They shifted shape until seven blades were pointed at Harry. The seven blades floated lazily
towards Harry until stopping an arm's length away.

“Do you want to test my transfigurations?” Hermione asked airily.

Harry reached out and tapped one of the hovering blades with his finger. It was plenty
sharp.

Hermione let them drop and they returned to water before hitting the ground. She took a seat
next to him, dragging her hand idly through the pool. The light of the sun refracted and bent
through the lake and then the glass above them. The surreal blue and yellow hue that resulted cast
them in different lights. The *drip drip* of water numbed Harry's brain as they sat in
silence.

“Did anyone tell you about the point tally?” Hermione asked.

“No. Did we even end up winning?”

Hermione nodded. “Tireur caught up with Cedric, but Cedric managed to hold him off by hiding
behind the VIP's. It forced Tireur to come into a closer range. Cedric would have lost to him
if we hadn't shown up. I don't know how much you know, but we managed to take out the rest
of the Beauxbatons group while you were off fighting Durmstrang. Still, Tireur got away with some
of his VIP's and managed to keep us at bay while he returned them. He's a right headache,
that one.”

Hermione took a breath from her description.

“Anyway, we managed to rescue ten of our VIP's. Tireur managed to steal one of ours and
played hide and seek until time ran out. We missed our bonus, but we're in the lead now. We
were awarded one point by all the judges for using the VIP's as shields. Altogether, that puts
us at twenty-two points. Tireur got three of the VIP's and he got six points total from the
judges. That puts them at twenty-one points. Durmstrang somehow got six points, mostly from
Karkaroff. That puts them at last with fifteen points. So for now, we have the lead.”

Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Well done.”

She nodded her head as her hand continued to push water back and forth in the pond.

“Of course, Karkaroff was none too happy with your encounter with Krum. Claimed that you tried
to kill him. That was heavily disputed as everyone understood that you ultimately saved him by
summoning two tons of transfigured rock as well as Krum's body. Then, Karkaroff tried to blame
you again, saying that you *could* have killed him with the Summoning Charm. Obviously, you
could have killed him far more easily by doing nothing at all. Surprisingly, Snape bit his head off
and basically intimated that Krum should be groveling at your feet for saving his life. It was
quite odd to witness.”

“Snape defended me?”

“I wouldn't go that far. I would say he was looking for an excuse to tear into Karkaroff and
this was the perfect opportunity. Regardless, nothing is being done against you by Ludo Bagman or
the governing committee. Everyone watched you save him.”

“Good. At least I was good for that.”

Another slightly uncomfortable silence fell over them. Harry thought that Hermione was brimming
with questions and that she was holding herself back. Having lost track of time, he knew that he
must have missed multiple classes already. As sunlight was still streaming through the water, it
must have been late afternoon. Harry was surprised it took Hermione that long to come down.

“I heard you missed every class today. Tracey found me again and demanded to be let into the
cave. Of course, I told her that her problems with you were her business, but I had a feeling she
was right.”

Tracey was persistent. Harry had to allow her that. He thought that, by skipping Battle class,
the message would be clear enough, but she still sought him out. Perhaps Harry hadn't ever
taken enough time to really consider his actions, but the longer he thought about it, the more he
found that there were very few reasons to stay at Hogwarts.

He loved the battle. He could never deny that. The overwhelming post-victory euphoria was a high
that could never be replicated. The satisfaction of a plan well executed drove him to create even
more sophisticated battle plans. The anticipation and tension before entering the Room of
Requirements put him on an edge that heightened every sense.

But to what end?

“I think I'm going to leave, Hermione.”

“You should. A shower would do you wonders.”

Harry had to chuckle. “I mean I'm going to leave Hogwarts.”

“Oh.”

Hermione played with the hem of her robes, tapping her wand and transfiguring it into different
materials. The *drip drip* of the water seemed louder in the silent cave. Harry watched
Hermione from the corner of his eye, trying to judge her response. She was staring steadfastly at
the small pond, but blinking quickly meaning she was deep in thought. Her lips would quiver when
she was on the verge of saying something, but she quickly shut her mouth. No doubt she was
rebutting her own arguments in her head.

“After my parents died, Professor McGonagall asked me if I wanted to take the rest of the
semester off. I never even considered it. Where else would I go? What else would I do? It
just...never crossed my mind.”

Harry nodded, understanding her mindset. “I asked myself the same questions. I thought I could
fight it out with Snape, but he doesn't seem to care what he throws at me. I don't know
what he wants from me, but he doesn't want me here.”

Hermione eventually cleared her throat and spoke, but the words sounded false and hollow. She
rubbed the back of her neck, her fingers running through the fringes of her short bob. Her hair was
slowly starting to regrow, but it was far from the mangy bush she wore before. Harry couldn't
tell whether she was trying to convince him to stay or if she was trying to convince herself to try
and convince him to stay.

“Where will you go?” Hermione finally asked.

“I've heard of a couple different schools. One in Spain. Another in Italy. I heard of
another one in the States; Chambridge, I think it's called. I don't know their enrollment
requirements just yet, but I can do well there. At least I'll get a fair shot. There, I'll
be treated equally.”

“But do you want to be treated equally?”

Harry looked at her curiously. “What do you mean?”

Hermione bit her lip and answered. “Suppose that you were treated equally. Suppose you were
treated like everyone else. Wouldn't you get bored? Wouldn't you feel unchallenged? I'm
not saying that what Snape is doing is right, but I don't think you can deny that you've
been made better by being challenged, whether fairly or not.”

It always came back to the same question. “Yes, but to what end?”

Hermione had no answer for that. So they sat side by side at the small pond. Neither had to
speak for they already knew how the conversation would proceed. Hermione would extoll the virtues
of education and the importance of growing as a wizard. She would no doubt play the guilt card -
how Hogwarts needed him for the Third Task. Harry would counter with the depressing course of his
fourth year. The constant battles he had to fight within Slytherin were taking its toll. Isolated
and alone, Harry would say that his contributions meant little. Why must he constantly be
punished?

So they sat in silence until Hermione spoke once more.

“It wouldn't be the same without you, Harry. Whatever you might think, you're going to
be a great wizard, someday historically great. You're that good. All of this rubbish, if you
can get through it, will seem like child's play when you're done. It's trivial. I know
this with as much certainty as I know anything...” Her voice sounding resigned, she finished. “You
will be brilliant...if you stay.”

Harry wanted to be brilliant. At least, he thought he wanted to be brilliant. At one point,
that's all he ever considered. Winning. What would it take to win? Harry knew what it would
take. Sacrifice. Ruthlessness. Luck. But why was he trying to win? He could no longer justify that.
He could not justify what it would take to beat everyone. What it would cost him. What it would
cost them.

“You're right, but maybe it's not worth it to become brilliant.”

Hermione obviously disagreed judging by the cross expression on her face, but she held her
tongue. It was a great show of restraint for her. She was never afraid to speak her mind, but even
she had to see why he had to leave.

“You would waste so much potential if you left. What would have happened if Dumbledore left
Hogwarts? What would have happened if Godric Gryffindor decided he didn't want to create a
school? I'm not saying that you leaving would be the same, but it would be close. I implore
you, Harry. It would be a monumental mistake if you left! I can help you. I know you don't want
any help, but I'm not always against you. Whatever Snape is putting you through, there's no
reason we can't find a way to beat it.”

“*Why*, Hermione? *Why?* What is the point of all of it? Have you ever asked yourself
that?!”

Hermione pursed her lips indignantly, seemingly affronted that she would not recognize all
arguments. “Of course I've asked myself that. It's not one reason. It's not any
particular reason. I stay because I want to do well in the future. I stay because I am doing well.
I stay because through all of Snape's manipulations, I know that I will find a way to win. I
stay because I want to win the tournament. I stay because of the people here. Cedric. Neville and
the rest of the Gryffindors...even you.”

All good reasons. All logical reasons. Harry wondered if Hermione would ever really understand.
The death of her parents had been a great injustice, but she was never put to the test. She sought
it out, voraciously devouring every challenge and piece of knowledge like bees drawn to honey, but
she was never trapped by the honey. She was never punished for doing well.

Every success Harry had achieved came at a terrible cost. Every success she achieved was
rewarded. Would she ever really understand?

“I'm sorry that I have to leave.”

Harry wasn't going to try and convince her of his viewpoint. Her pitch was rooted in logic
and sensible conclusions. Maybe one day, confronted with what she felt about her parents, she would
finally be able to understand him. Maybe one day, she would realize that not all actions could be
explained rationally.

Hermione opened her mouth, trying to continue the argument, but Harry put a finger to his lips,
signaling silence. She did not like that.

“You don't *have* to leave,” she implored, but even she knew that her plea was
useless.

“I might not have to leave, but it would be my choice to leave. For once, it would be my choice.
No one else's. No one pulling my strings. No one manipulating what to do.”

At that she could not argue.

Of course, she would not give up without a fight. That just wasn't the Hermione Granger that
Harry knew - why he chose to tell her in the first place.

“Unless of course that's exactly what Snape wants you to think. Maybe he wants you to think
that it's your choice when it is entirely possible that it's not even your choice at all.
Maybe he thinks that you will think that it's a choice and is testing your reaction and seeing
what choice you make. Maybe…”

Hermione trailed off, realizing the futility of this logic. They cold speculate forever, on
circular levels of what Snape thought Harry thought. Harry didn't blame her for trying
penetrate the layers of Snape's deception. But the sheer number of those deceptions only gave
him more reason to think that leaving was the best option...maybe the only option.

“Come on,” Harry said, trying to change the topic. “Let's practice some Occlumency. I have a
feeling I'm going to need it in the near future and we haven't practiced in a while.”

“How could you not be practicing? I practice every night before I go to sleep. It helps with the
dreams.” She looked at him pointedly.

Hermione was absent from his dreams recently, but lately he felt himself being drawn to those
dreams. His morbid curiosity tried to discover what was in store for him every night. He ignored
her jab at his laziness and walked to the table in the cave. He looked wistfully at the three other
tables where their project to replicate the Board Room lay stagnant. Hermione was right. A lot of
his potential would probably remain untapped if he left here. He ignored that biting feeling of
guilt and settled into one of the chairs.

“Try to keep anything concerning Cedric under tight guard. I don't want to stumble into any
of those,” Harry joked.

“I would say the same with Fleur, but you still haven't told me what happened. It might be
that I have to just find out myself.”

She would not. Harry was prepared to let other memories undefended, even those with Vernon. She
would not see those shameful visions. Harry was sure of that.

Hermione placed her wand on the table and settled across from him, regarding him crossly with
her lips pursed tight. She was staring at him intensely and then shook her head. He could
practically read her thoughts. *What a waste…*

“Don't go easy on me,” Harry said.

“I never have.”

---------------------------------------------

His belongings were sadly sparse. After discarding the things he needed solely for Hogwarts,
Harry found his trunk to be less than half full, mostly with clothes. He left most of his robes
behind, save for one pair. Wherever he went, Harry preferred traveling less conspicuously as a
Muggle. It was far less conspicuous. If the situation arose, he could always claim that he was a
wizard pretending to dress like a Muggle.

He looked around the Slytherin dormitory. His last time felt like the first time. The drapes
were absurdly clean. Even in the low light of the winter sun, Harry could see no dust. The
House-Elves must have brushed and cleaned them constantly. His area was clean. Blaise's area
was nearly spotless. Draco had a few trinkets lying about, but most things were stored in his trunk
or in his bed. Goyle's area was littered with dirty clothes and Nott was no better. The
House-Elves left those alone.

Draco's bed was now near the doorway whilst Harry's was at the back corner, furthest
away. Harry wondered if that was Draco's request. Harry paused at Blaise's bedside, unsure
of how he felt about him. Harry would never understand Blaise. His friend was a leaf in the wind,
turning in whatever direction wind was blowing strongest. Harry knew that Blaise had some sort of
moral compass, only he was not sure which way it pointed.

“I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that you're leaving.”

The voice came from the doorway, but it's tone was not mocking. Draco looked at Harry's
trunk then lifted his eyes to stare Harry in the face. He was dressed in his normal robes, but his
hair was unusually disheveled. The blond must have just come from Battle class. He stood taller,
somehow. His mien had a new-found confidence, now that he wasn't playing second fiddle to
Harry.

“Congratulations. I heard you won your first battle,” Harry said without any sarcasm.

“Barely. We would have done better with you.” Draco was surprisingly frank.

Harry pursed his lips, wondering why Draco was still standing in the way of his exit. When Harry
stepped forward, Draco still didn't move.

“I suppose you'll have to learn more ways to win without me,” Harry remarked as Draco
remained unmoved.

“For what it's worth, if anyone can do it, I think you can. I've been watching you
during Battle class. There's a reason I ranked you higher than Blaise when I started
delegating. You've improved. Drastically. I don't know what caused it.” Harry had a feeling
it was the incarceration of his parents. Grief could be a powerful motivator. “But you have done
well...and you'll continue to do well.”

Draco was still looking at him strangely like he wasn't hearing Harry's words. The blond
finally looked off into the distance and stepped out of the way. Harry took this as a sign to leave
and started walking out, his trunk in tow. Draco did not let him leave without having his say in
things though.

“You should know how Tracey feels about you. She's been looking for you all day. Even today,
she was still defending you.”

Harry looked down, feeling shame. “I know how she feels about me.”

Draco made an incredulous sound. “And you're still leaving? I thought you...loved her?”

Harry found it a strange question. He also found he had no response. He did love her. He knew he
loved her. Even though he was devoid of whatever love was during his childhood, Harry knew without
a shadow of a doubt that he loved Tracey. In what way, he did not know.

And he didn't want to find out.

“She'll be fine. I'm not blind. She's gotten closer to you.” It hurt to finally
admit it, but he felt better once he said it.

Harry turned and saw Draco shake his head. “I'll never understand,” the blond said. “I
don't think I'm supposed to.”

Harry did not wait to see what else Draco would say. He cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself
and his trunk. It would last long enough to reach the Great Hall. He walked by Nott and Pansy. They
were discussing Anthony Goldstein and how much money he could possibly have. He walked by some of
the older Slytherins, studying for their end of year exams.

Tracey opened the passage to the Common Room just as Harry arrived at the exit. He stilled,
floating the trunk until it was out of her path. She was looking around the room. It would have
been narcissistic to assume she was looking for him, but Harry had a feeling that was true.

He should have left, but Harry remained rooted to the floor. Her eyes even passed directly over
him, but he knew his Disillusionment Charm was spelled correctly. Tracey did not even pause as she
looked and looked and found nothing. Her face dropped and then reformed into a determined
expression. She marched up the stairs to the boy's dormitory. Five minutes earlier and she
would have intercepted him. He watched her go and felt a tightening in his chest. He had never had
to leave anything important behind before. With the Dursleys, he never had anything worth
keeping.

Harry left the Common Room.

There were two more stops to make.

He had to bribe Terry with promises of how he cast certain spells in order for him to retrieve
Luna. Harry was never a fan of Terry's. The boy was always more devoted to knowledge for
knowledge's sake than in using it as a tool. It was a typical Ravenclaw failing. Their library
was full of books that they read once and never again. What was the use of knowledge if never
applied to anything?

Luna stepped into the empty classroom. Harry was still Disillusioned as she entered. She sat
down and faced the chalkboard as if waiting for a professor. Harry canceled the charm and cleared
his throat, trying not to surprise her. Luna, to her credit, didn't even jump. She turned
slowly in her chair until her bright blue eyes found him.

“Your bags packed already?” Luna asked.

Harry cocked his head, looking at her strangely. His trunk was still Disillusioned in the
corner. How could she possibly see it? Harry didn't ask her. She was allowed to have her
secrets.

“Astute. Know anything else that might help me?”

Her eyes twinkled as she spun the ball that was at the end of her chained earrings. She gave him
a half-smile, looking past him. Harry glanced behind him to see if she spotted something but
nothing was there or, rather, nothing that he could see.

“You should go before you stay.”

“A little less cryptic?” Harry asked.

“If you want to leave, do it now. The longer you wait, the harder it will be.”

“You're right,” Harry said. “I just wanted to see you before I left.”

“No need for that, Harry. A quick goodbye will suffice.” Luna stood up and walked towards him.
She placed her hand on his chest, her fingers splayed open. Harry let her touch him and took a deep
breath as she kept her hand on his chest. He didn't know what she was doing, but he felt...at
peace. Harry didn't know how Luna knew the things she knew. He would let her have that.

“Take care of Hermione. She thinks she knows everything. She thinks she has every angle covered,
but she's too blind to see her own mistakes. Keep her in check. And don't let them bully
you, Luna. You have a talent.”

She looked up at him, the same dreamy expression on her face.

“Go, Harry. Leave this place. But don't think I can keep Hermione in check. Only you can do
that.”

-------------------------------------------

Harry knocked on the door of Trow's classroom.

“Come in,” invited the muffled voice.

Harry entered and found the desks were cleared away. Only the professor's desk remained near
the front of the classroom. Trow was rarely one for strategic exercises in the classroom, but he
would occasionally have them act out movements at a macro level. Trow beckoned him forward. The
professor coughed into a tissue and even from a distance, Harry could see a tinge of red on the
soiled tissue.

“What brings you here, Harry? Use of the Stationary Omnioculars is over.”

Harry chose Trow because he was the least combative of his professors. There were other
professors that he could have told. McGonagall would have gone straight to Snape. Flitwick would
have squeaked and gone straight to Snape. Lupin would have tried to convince him to stay. Slughorn
would have heaved his fat body all the way to Snape. But Trow was different. He would listen to
what Harry would have to stay. There was always something accommodating about the Strategy
professor.

“I'm here to tell you that I'm leaving Hogwarts.” Harry found no reason to stall or beat
around the bush.

Trow stilled and then stood up. He was a good actor, the professor. Yet, Harry sensed that Trow
already knew he was leaving. It was a mere formality that Harry stopped by to notify the professor,
but he felt compelled to do so. Trow and Lupin had been tutoring him for the past few months, so
Harry felt obliged to tell him.

“It would be remiss of me not to compel you to stay or at least talk to some of the professors
as to why you want to leave. Has something gone wrong? Has the tournament been too much on you? You
can always -”

“I'm sorry to interrupt, Professor.” Harry had already heard the arguments. He had no desire
to rehash them. “I think I've made up my mind already. I don't feel like going into the
details of why, but I feel I would do better elsewhere.”

“Better than here, Harry? Have we not impressed on you the importance of the work we're
doing.”

“You have. But you'll find someone else. It doesn't need to be me.”

Trow obviously disagreed. He was still standing behind his desk, but Harry could see his arm was
shaking. He didn't want to stay any longer, so he made a move to leave. Trow could not let
Harry leave without having the last word though.

“Harry.”

He turned around, waiting expectantly for a follow up. Trow let the moment hang in the air,
trying to find the right words to say. Or perhaps he was trying to find the correct wrong words to
say. Harry had no idea how much Trow knew. Did Snape clue him into everything? Did Trow only know
what he needed to know? It mattered little. He was involved.

“Professor?” Harry tried to prompt him.

Trow seemed to remember who and here he was.

“I obviously can not prevent you from leaving. I wish I could have said more to encourage you to
stay, but your mind was obviously made up long before now.” Trow took a deep and labored breath and
continued, “Professor Lupin and I have placed an extraordinary amount of faith in you, Harry. We
chose you. We tutored you. We did not do it without reason.”

*You did. For Snape.*

“I appreciate that, but you will find someone else.”

Harry turned to leave again. It was a sign of disrespect, but Harry's patience had
evaporated. Luna was right. Every moment he stayed, another hook was thrown into the water, baiting
him back to Hogwarts.

“There is no one else, Harry,” Trow said quietly.

Harry stopped and almost turned around. Almost. He felt like he was being pulled. Trow was a
magnet and he was the iron. Harry virtually felt a tug around his waist, but it was just a phantom.
He could not stay. He could not.

The path to Hogsmeade was filled with a heavy silence. Each step crunched into the ground,
echoing loudly in the still air of the night. His breath misted in front of him, the icy grip of
winter refusing to give way. His trunk floated behind him, light and easy to lift. He was doing it
wandlessly for practice. The train would arrive tomorrow morning. It made a stop at Hogsmeade once
a week and then returned to King's Cross. From there, he would have to find something to do
with his time...with his life.

He reached the gates at the bottom of the walkway and found them open. Harry laughed. He
didn't know who he was laughing at. Himself? Trow? Snape? These gates should have been closed.
It was no coincidence they were open and inviting him to leave.

Harry's mind wandered back to what Hermione said. Perhaps Snape wanted him to leave. Perhaps
Snape only wanted him to think that. Perhaps Snape wanted to give him the option of leaving.

Harry tried to sort out his reasons for leaving. Snape was unfair. He was more than unfair. He
treated him cruelly. Snape went out of his way to punish him. Even the tournament seemed design to
break him. If that were the case, then Harry had to swallow a bitter pill that Snape had succeeded.
He felt broken. He felt dispirited. He had so many ambitions to start the year.

Slytherin would be restored and feared. Snape would be outwitted in Battle class. Great strides
would be made during class and beyond. The tournament would be won. Tracey would excel in Medical.
Blaise would find his feet in Leadership. So many plans, and so few executed properly, or at
all.

Worst of it all, Harry knew it wasn't all Snape's fault. He had made mistakes. Some were
gambles that did not pan out. Others were obvious and unforced missteps. He had a lot of time to
think about what he could have done differently. Blaise should have been handled with a lighter
touch. He should have addressed the dissension among his ranks. Harry was unsure what the right
move was. Should he have punished them and squashed out the mutiny? Should he have coerced some of
them so the situation was more favorable?

These were things that were not taught. Perhaps Moody taught some form of this metagame in
Leadership courses. Perhaps that's why Blaise had outmaneuvered him. It burned in his stomach
that he had not seen it until the last minute, but he was distracted. It was not a full blown
excuse. His attention had to be on the tournament. A misstep in the tournament was punished far
more severely than in Battle class.

Ultimately, it all came back to Snape. How much was manipulation? Did he invade Blaise's
mind again? Was that why Blaise did the things he did? What if that wasn't Snape's doing?
And what about Fleur? Harry had tried to push down the memories of that night, but they resurfaced
as he stood at the edge of the precipice. Was Snape behind that as well or was it all Fleur? Why
did she do it? Could she not be with someone who had his past? Were his scars too much to bear?

Why?

That was the question that kept echoing.

His feet was at the perimeter, Hogsmeade just a few minutes away. No professors were chasing
after him. Tracey had not found him. Hermione was in Gryffindor tower, preparing for Battle class
and the Third Task. Or maybe she was with Cedric. Should he care? At least, she had a purpose.
Where was Fleur? Was she still hiding in her carriage? And Tireur? Did he regret pulling Harry out
of the water? And Krum? Was he still laying in the Hospital Wing?

All Harry had to do was take another step and free himself forever from Snape's choking
chains. Freedom was a step away. True freedom. A choice to live his life as he pleased. He ran
through the list of schools he had researched. They were not militant. They were geared towards the
traditional pursuits of education. Nor did they have demented headmasters. He could make new
friends. Friends who didn't stab him in the back. He could even have a girlfriend. The scar on
his forehead was not nearly as massive an obstacle of normal life outside of England.

He had to leave. Trow tried to guilt-trip him by reminding him of the reason Hogwarts Battle
School was created. They needed a leader to prevent future dark lords, but they could find someone
else. Cedric, maybe. Hermione, perhaps. Even Draco... Someone else who passed all their tests. He
couldn't be the only one, could he? It was time to leave. It was time to start over. Harry felt
at peace with his decision.

But pacifism never won any wars.

Surrender never gained any ground.

If another Dark Lord did arise, second best might not be good enough.

So he turned around.

Time to win.

----------------------

“So the boy *is* made of something.”

“Made of something or without a choice?”

“The illusion of choice can be used to show what decisions would be made. Either way, he did not
break. He bent. He wavered. Yet, he returned. He senses the magnitude of his true purpose.”

“Or perhaps he realized that we would never let him leave? Perhaps he came back because he
understood the choice was illusory.”

“Whatever the reasoning, he decided to stay. Lesser students would have surrendered. They would
have thrown their hands in the air at the unfairness of it all. I am not fool enough to think that
we might have actually broken him, but if he broke, then he is not the one to defeat the Dark
Lord.”

“Lucky that he did not leave then.”

“It was not luck. Stop pitying him.”

“It is not pity. It is the crushing realization that despite all of the things we've done to
him, he nonetheless came to the conclusion that the best decision was to stay.”

“That is the best decision.”

“For us. Yes. For him...”

“Yes. We have done our damnedest to break him. I thought that it would be the Veela's
deception. I thought it would be my many unwinnable scenarios in Battle. I thought perhaps it would
be Krum and Tireur. Yet, it was the Zabini boy. Curious.”

“Not very curious in fact. You have never placed enough emphasis on positive reasons that
justify fighting. We can not all have your unfettered rage. He needs a reason to fight. He needs a
reason to continue on.”

“What would you have me do? Forcibly restore him as the leader of the Slytherins?”


“Of course not. But it might be time to take a more personal approach. He has grown. It might be
time to brief him.”

“Now? Surely, you haven't gone mad in your state. It is ludicrous to posit that he be given
more than what he needs.”

“And what he needs is a justification. That much is blindingly obvious. He said so himself to
the girl. We need to give him a *why*.”

“I don't think so. He returned. He has his own reasons. We do not need to add any more. He
will be told when he is ready, but it is *blindingly obvious* that he is not ready. Not just
yet. Very soon though.”

“He needs a reason. We all need reasons. Perhaps the girl herself could be one of those reasons.
Just as the boy is not his father, neither is he you.”

“Do we really need reasons? Why did you stay then? You, the biggest hypocrite of them all,
refused the journey into the next life. Why did you stay, Albus?”

---------------------------

**A/N:**

**Projected update time: 22 days**
 Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7
-->



46. Take Control
----------------



**Thank you to my beta, Bexis**

------------------------------

Tracey snapped awake. She immediately reached for her wand, but a hand caught her wrist. She
blinked repeatedly, trying to shrug off the fatigue and assess the situation. She remembered being
in the middle of a nightmare. She was suffocating. Her hands had clawed at her throat. A man
watched while life slipped away.

“Tracey. It's me.”

Harry's voice was sweet to her ears. She immediately jumped up and engulfed him in a tight
hug. Then, she let go and slapped his arm...hard.

“Bugger all,” Harry cursed as he rubbed the reddening point of impact. “I can't say I
didn't deserve it, but did you have to hit so hard?”

“You were going to leave! You were going to leave without saying goodbye to me. What the bloody
hell were you thinking?! You deserve a lot more than just a smack in the arm!” Tracey yelled.

Harry put a finger to his lips, trying to quell her, but her anger could not be checked. When
Draco informed her that Harry had his bags packed and appeared to be leaving, Tracey had been
furious. She was still furious. Blaise dismissed it as pointless to wait up for him, but she had
savagely torn into him. Their fight was not public nor loud. Instead, it was quiet and filled with
sharp words that could not be taken back.

Harry sought to contest her claim but was immediately struck by another thought. “Who told you I
was leaving?”

“Draco, of course. When I went up to your dormitory, he said I *just* missed you. What was
I supposed to do? I didn't even know if I should go to one of the professors.
You...you...you…”

Tracey couldn't find words to express her rage. Perhaps it was because she had already
resigned herself to his departure. She had curled up in the leather chair, desperately hoping the
Common Room door would open and Harry would step through like he had so many times before. Seeing
him now was a shock to her system and Tracey didn't quite know how to react.

“I didn't leave,” Harry said simply. “And I'm not going to leave.”

His words were the pin that deflated her ballooning anger. She slumped and felt a sob coming up
through her chest. Like another balloon, it rose and rose and would have escaped her mouth. She
tried to cover it and found the sob becoming a laugh. Harry was a madman. Why did he insist on
doing this to her? Why did she insist on letting him?

“Then what were you doing all day?” Tracey asked when she finally regained some semblance of
composure.

“Thinking, mostly. Trying to figure out what I wanted to do.”

“And did you?”

Harry waited a long time to respond. Tracey watched him expectantly, mentally preparing herself
for any answer. The truth was that she didn't know what to expect, or even to want of him
anymore. Recently, he had been distant and reluctant to confide in her. She was used to standing in
his shadow, not chasing it.

He finally answered. “Yes and I'm going to need your help.”

Those were the words that she had been waiting ages to hear, but as he said it, Tracey did not
feel the excitement she would have expected. For far too long, she had been struggling to
feel...needed. Harry had finally obliged her, but instead of happiness, she felt a hollow pit in
her stomach. Only when he had fallen from the top did Harry require her assistance. Was she
supposed to feel proud, knowing that she was needed when he was hurting most? Or was she supposed
to feel embarrassed that he would only turn to her when no one else was left? Should she have felt
ashamed to be his last resort?

*Should I help?* Tracey asked herself.

A voice whispered into her ear. *Yes.*

She looked around for a moment and then returned his steady gaze.

“Yes.”

Harry nodded in satisfaction. “Good. First thing I have to do is apologize to Blaise, so help me
think of what to say to him.”

“Why would you ever apologize to him? Do you know what he did?” Tracey asked incredulously.

“I know exactly what he did,” Harry confirmed. He had a slight smile on his lips, laughing at a
joke to which Tracey was not privy. “But you have to get close to strike most effectively.”

Harry was back.

Treachery would be repaid with treachery. Harry was always a force that could not be checked for
long. His strength was as a whirlpool, grasping and pulling anyone within his grasp. That whirlpool
had abated in recent days. His grasp was not as strong. The debris had started to drift away. His
pull was had slackened. Now, he was returning in force and Tracey sensed the waters would churn as
strongly as ever once Harry prepared his next assault.

She let herself be the first sucked back in.

“Don't grovel. You're going to want to play it as wounded pride. Blaise will be
suspicious, but he won't reject a public apology. It might not even work. People are pretty
upset you didn't show up for Battle, but for now, it's the best course of action.”

Navigating what came next would be the trickiest part. Before, Harry had always been the only
one she needed to protect. He was a force unto himself and Tracey only had to watch his back
against attacks while he was busy devouring his opponents. This time, though, Tracey had someone
else to defend, which greatly complicated the task. Harry wanted to do away with Blaise, but Blaise
had anchored himself to Draco. She would not let Draco be pulled down with Blaise, but how could
she thread this needle?

“I need you to promise me something,” Tracey suddenly said, interrupting Harry just before he
spoke. “Whatever you're planning, do not embarrass Draco. When Blaise was questioning your
fitness to lead, Draco defended you. He kept defending you all the way to the end. He did not play
a part in whatever Blaise did.”

Harry waited an age to respond again. He was usually quick with his replies, decisive in his
actions. He let the moment linger a second too long. *Is he going to lie?* Tracey immediately
felt ashamed to be thinking the worst of Harry, but he had given her no choice.

“I promise,” he finally answered.

Whirlpools were dangerous. They were relentless and unpredictable. She felt herself being pulled
into the vortex, where it would be hardest to escape. If she were not careful, she would be dragged
under, with incalculable consequences. How could she help Draco if she was drowning in a sea of
chaos? So Tracey summoned a bit of that Gryffindor courage the troglodytes always raved about.

“Don't lie to me,” she said.

Harry nodded as if understanding her cautiousness. “No tricks.”

*Help him*, said her dream voice again. She could not place it. It was familiar but foreign
at the same time.

But she obeyed.

“What else do you need me to do?” she asked.

“A lot of things, but they can wait until tomorrow. We're both going to need some sleep.
I've had an epiphany of sorts. You know the saying Rome wasn't built in a day?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you can't destroy it in one night either.”

A shiver of excitement and dread trickled down her spine.

--------------------------------

Harry woke the next morning before the sun rose. The castle was still quiet, save for scurrying
House-Elves. None of the other fourth year Slytherins was awake. Harry silently dressed, taking
care not to leave them that way. Harry thought he saw shadowy movement behind the drapes of
Draco's bed, but the lighting was tricky. He met no one else as he exited the Common Room. He
quickly made for Trow's classroom.

Cedric was thankfully routine. He was already at his customary position using one of the
Stationary Omnioculars when Harry walked into Trow's classroom. Making a beeline for the
Hufflepuff, Harry coughed loudly to grab the older boy's attention.

“Good morning, Harry. Nice to see you up and moving. You do have a nasty habit of landing
yourself in the Hospital Wing for an extended amount of time.” Cedric offered the adjoining seat,
but Harry declined.

“Fortunate for me. Not so much for Krum.”

Cedric shook his head, running a hand through his well-kept hair. “I don't know if
you've heard what they've been saying, but I made sure to back you up. We had no choice but
to take out Krum and you still went back to save his life. I felt bad that I didn't help you. I
should have stayed.”

“Then we would have lost.” Harry pointed out. “You didn't know that they couldn't save
Krum.”

“Why did you?”

Harry shrugged. “I knew how many tons I had put around his neck. You didn't.”

“I didn't because I never would have thought of that. You're good at that sort of thing,
Harry,” Cedric complimented.

*Good at figuring out ways to permanently incapacitate my opponents? You know the way to my
heart, Cedric.*

Instead, Harry said, “I do what I can. I actually came hunting for you here to discuss the Third
Task. I have to take care of some other things and I might not be able to make all the
meetings.”

That caught Cedric's attention. He shifted in his seat and turned to face Harry. Cedric was
excellent at these sorts of movements. A minute change in his body language, and he came off as
attentive. The concerned countenance on his handsome face conveyed sympathy. Little things, like
posture and expression were subtleties that Harry had yet to master.

“Is everything okay? Anything I can do to help?” Cedric asked with genuine concern.

Harry shook his head. “Slytherin things. Things you're lucky you don't have to deal
with.”

Cedric looked pensive for a moment and then said, “Do you want some more unsolicited
advice?”

“I suppose I can't stop you.”

The Hufflepuff grinned. Harry was grateful that the older boy understood his brand of humor.

“I've found that it's easier to lead if people want to follow you. There's a
difference between someone wanting to follow you and someone forced to follow you. If it's the
latter, they just don't have the same conviction,” Cedric said.

“I understand that.”

“Then understand this. I told you before that I've been the *de facto* leader of
Hufflepuff for quite a while, but it wasn't always this way. In my fourth year, I wasn't
yet the leader. That honor went to Stewart Browning.”

Harry had a vague memory of the older Hufflepuff. He was short and muscular with dark hair and
pale eyes. Outside of his appearance, Harry knew nothing else besides the occasional appearance of
the Hufflepuff's name on the lists.

Cedric continued, “Stewart is smart and not afraid to say what he's thinking. Almost like
Hermione except -”

“- not nearly as abusive.”

Cedric laughed. “I was going to say not nearly as persistent, but perhaps you're the only
she abuses.”

Harry almost smiled at his choice of words. Almost.

“Anyway, when it came time for the Board room, Stewart was chosen because he's in Theory. No
one ever denied he was insanely smart. By fourth year, he had been transfiguring complex objects
into other materials with ease. He was good at Strategy. Decent at Charms and dueling spells. There
was no reason for him not to succeed,” Cedric said.

“Except?”

“Except, he didn't know how to lead. He would get flustered and critical when someone did
something incorrectly. He wanted to run the team like a clock, but the hands didn't always
listen or didn't keep up with his timing. He didn't know how to manage people. If up to
him, his orders would be obeyed in an instant and never questioned. Too bad people aren't like
that. Eventually, he broke and asked me if I would take over the Board room. Stewart couldn't
handle it.”

It wasn't lost upon Harry that Stewart's fall bore distinct resemblance to his own. If
Cedric were trying to give him a warning, he didn't have to. Harry understood his mistakes and
failings. He hadn't yet found an opportunity to correct his past actions, but he would. Others
would have to fall before he could rise again - but rise he would.

--------------------------

Transfiguration and Charms were the only two classes for the day and Harry breezed through the
lessons with minimal fuss. After informing Tracey where he would be for the evening, Harry departed
the castle. The sun was emerging from behind the clouds and the snow was finally melting. The path
to the Beauxbatons carriages was clear under Harry's feet as he approached, intent on finding
answers.

The carriages were conveniently named, making it simple for Harry to find who he was looking
for. Beauxbatons students were practicing charms and transfigurations outside and Harry drew their
stares as he marched through the column of carriages. His eyes scanned the nameplates, passing over
them quickly when he realized it was not the one. He repeated the process until he arrived at the
second to last carriage.

A small set of stairs unfolded as Harry approached the door to the sterling white carriage.
Ignoring the stares of Beauxbatons onlookers, he knocked on the door. His heart was beating at a
slightly faster pace, but he was determined to get to the bottom of this particular mystery. Other
things had to be taken care of, but not before this. Not before Fleur.

Harry was pleased to see a surprised expression on her beautiful face when she opened the
door.

“Hello, Fleur. If I may?”

Refusing to accept no for an answer, Harry barged his way inside. Once in, the setting triggered
frightful memories of the Yule Ball night. He pushed those aside, concentrating on the task at
hand. His hands were underneath his robes, wary of Fleur trying to eject him from her room. She
stuttered in French as he advanced, then quickly closed the door.

Another pretty Beauxbatons girl regarded Harry with her mouth agape. A magazine was in her hand
and she wore only a very thin bathrobe. Harry did not avert his eyes, but instead adopted an
intimidating presence. His face pulled into a scowl and he straightened his shoulders. He might
have been only a few inches over five feet, but Harry knew posture was important when projecting
power. Snape was an expert on that subject.

“I need to speak to Fleur alone. If you could excuse us.” Harry phrased the second sentence not
as a question, but as an order.

The other girl looked to Fleur with questions in her eyes. Harry turned to the quarter-Veela,
bringing his Occlumency shields to full capacity. He prepared the defenses in his mind, ready for
Fleur's brand of thought magic.

*“**Attendez-moi à l'école, Emma,”* Fleur directed.

Emma quickly donned a robe suitable for the outdoors and exited the carriage, but not before
pausing beside Fleur and whispering something in her ear. The taller girl shook her head, her
blonde tresses shimmering in the light. Harry ignored the pull he felt in the pit of his stomach,
willing *those* feelings away. Emma left and they were finally alone.

Merlin, she was gorgeous.

Beauty was often over descriptive and overwrought. Girls did not glow in the moonlight or dance
as they walked. Girls did not have angelic voices or mesmerizing eyes. Every girl but Fleur. Words
could not describe her beauty. Words could not describe his pain.

“I never knew you to be rude, Harry,” Fleur said, keeping her distance.

“Don't do that.”

He felt it. Harry didn't know how Fleur's magic worked, but could sense her trying to
use it. His Occlumency shields were already wavering. The relative ineffectiveness of his
Occlumency shields gave him some insight into Veela magic. It was not directed solely at the mind.
Veela magic affected other parts of the male anatomy as well. Perhaps it even tried to seduce male
magic. Whatever the case, he produced his wand from under his robes as a visual warning.

Fleur's eyes narrowed at the sight of his wand and Harry could see a light glow around her.
He had not come for battle, but he would go that route if she were inclined. They both stood still
and silent. Tension and magic crackled between them, filling the air. Harry maintained eye contact,
letting her have the first move. Would she attack? Would she resort to her Veela powers or her
wand?

She did neither.

The air cooled between them and the heat left Harry's body. She turned away, walking towards
her bed. Harry countermoved, maintaining his distance and keeping as far away as possible from her
bed. The only time he had been upon it, the story had not ended well. He did not come to duel her
or to fuck her. He sought only resolution.

“I suppose you're here because of what happened the other night.” Fleur was surprisingly
straightforward with him.

“I think I deserve to know what happened. I deserve to know why you acted that way.”

She gulped, her slender throat bobbing ever so slightly. Harry watched her every movement,
attuned to the minutiae of body language. The slight flicker of her eyes could mean a lie. The
downward turn of her lips could be disappointment. The fingers of her right hand circling her left
wrist could signify nervousness. Trying to read her every movement, Harry realized he knew very
little about Fleur. He knew when Hermione was uncertain by the way she bit her bottom lip. Tracey
tightened a strand of hair around her finger when under duress.

What did he know about Fleur? She was beautiful, intelligent, and…

“What do you know of Veelas, Harry?” Fleur asked.

Harry cocked his head, wary that she was questioning him. “You have powerful magic.”

She nodded, her pretty blue eyes cast downwards. “You know that much, but you know very little
of the Veela way. *Vraiment,* we can bend men to our will. I don't claim to know all of
our secrets, but I know a few. Would it surprise you that Veela magic is tied to bonds made during
sex?”

“Somehow, I sussed that part out,” Harry snarked.

“Don't do that,” she parroted his words. “I am trying to be serious.”

“Then go ahead.” Harry refused to give an inch.

Fleur glared at him, her patience thinning. “When Veela mate, it is more than a mere act of
passion, or even of procreation. We are bonded and bound together. It transcends simple physical
connection. Sex with a Veela ties you to to that person magically. It is why so little
cross-species breeding actually occurs, despite the obvious attraction. The cost, though…”

Harry's heart hammered in his chest. "What is the cost?"

For once, Fleur had the grace to look embarrassed. The light around her dimmed. The songs that
played in the air were muted. All the entrancing Veela qualities that made it difficult for him to
tear his eyes away from her were gone. She was simply Fleur, quarter-Veela, but three-fourths
human.

“You would not be able to harm me.”

Harry had to laugh. It was hollow and mirthless, but irony, if not amusement exited in their
situation.

“You would go through all that just to gain that advantage over me?” Harry asked.

“You've done every bit as much to gain advantage over your enemies,” she spit back.

*“**Never,”* Harry hissed and was glad to see her recoil in fear. “Not like that.
I've intimidated people. I've put fear into them. I've learned their ways. I've
never...never played with their emotions. Not like you.”

“Is fear not an emotion? Is desperation not an emotion? That's what you do to people, Harry.
You make people fear what you can do. This is a competition and I am well within my right to
compete every way I can to get ahead of you. Isn't this what your school - this Hogwarts Battle
School - is about? Winning...at all costs!” Fleur was screaming by the end.

Harry fumed at her arrogance. He breathed heavily through his nose, willing himself to maintain
his Occlumency shields. She was right. He would not admit it, but she played perfectly into
Snape's hands. Anything to win was indeed the Hogwarts mantra and she had almost consumated
it.

Almost.

Harry stowed his wand in his holster. Fleur looked at him curiously, still seated on the bed.
One part of him could barely look at her; another could not tear his gaze away. In the end, Fleur
had resisted. She had the opportunity to bind him to her, but ultimately she had not pressed her
advantage to the maximum when he would have been foolish enough to dive in without a thought. For
that, she should not be punished. At least, he would not be the one to punish her.

“Did anyone put you up to this?”

She looked at him in confusion. “No. It was my initiative.”

He detected no lie from her. That didn't mean she could not possibly be lying, but Harry
felt she was being truthful.

“How much of it was real?” Harry asked, his voice quiet. He was treading into uncharted
territory.

Fleur looked him in the eye when she answered, “I don't know.”

“Guess,” he insisted.

She muttered something in French that sounded derisive. She ran her hands along her neck and
though Fleur did it due to stress, she still managed to appear seductive. Harry ground his teeth,
hoping for an answer, but not knowing what answer he wanted.

“None of it was real…”

His pain was surprising.

“...not until that night. Not until I realized that I was treating you just like men have been
treating me all my life; as something to be won. For that...*j**'**e**n*
*suis désolée.*”

An apology would not heal his wounds. He had never thought that he could feel so much pain
because of a girl. It was stupid, in the grand context of everything he had to do, but even though
trivial, it still hurt. It reminded him of his impulse to leave the day before - that there was
more to the world than Hogwarts. Some people out there, like Fleur, were just like him. Alone.
Isolated. Feared for what they were and desired for what they were not. Imperfect, though everyone
thought differently.

So, he said, *“Je vous pardonne.”*

----------------------------------

If Trow were surprised, his expression did not betray anything when Harry entered the room.

“You're late, Harry,” Lupin reprimanded as he stood and pointed at the projector screen,
bringing it down with a wave of his wand.

Harry stopped mid-step and stared at the projector screen, then at Lupin. He maintained an even
silence as his gaze eventually turned to Trow. His heart was thudding against his chest, but he had
to project confidence. It was easier in Battle class. His wand was in his hands, and his enemies
feared his skill. Lupin and Trow were not enemies, per se, but Harry needed to start fighting
back.

“Professor.” Harry directed himself towards Trow. “You said to me yesterday that no one else
could take my place. Are you absolutely certain?”

Harry noted that Lupin did not look at all surprised. They were not enemies, but nor were they
allies. Their relationship had taken a different context altogether, something Harry had not
encountered before, in battle or otherwise - except possibly with Hermione. He tread carefully, not
wanting to reveal his hand until the last possible moment. *Careful, Potter…*

Trow looked at him evenly and reiterated, “As I said before, there is no one else.”

Harry nodded. “Then, stop teaching me this way.”

Lupin moved to interrupt him. “Harry, you still have a lot to learn -”

“No.”

Lupin recoiled slightly from Harry's negative response. His eyes narrowed and he stood
straighter, but Harry knew that Lupin was no Snape. Though the man might be a werewolf, he was
nowhere near the consummate bastard that the Headmaster was. Harry stood his ground, still giving
his attention to Trow. He was the man Harry needed to convince, not Lupin.

“It was a near thing, my return. If I'm going to stay here, then I don't give a damn
about previous Dark Lords. I understand what danger they pose, what power they can possess. I know
why this school is like this now. If you're training me for something in the future, then what
I want to be trained for. No more history lessons. No more double talk. Tell me exactly what you
think, or fear, I'm going to face and what I have to do to prepare myself.”

Harry spoke evenly, not wanting to give the impression of being out of control. He knew what he
wanted. If he was going to stay at Hogwarts, it would have to be on his terms, not theirs. Trow
returned his even stare quietly and without assumption. It was Lupin who furtively looked back and
forth. The werewolf cleared his throat.

“Harry, we have a plan to develop you. All of this information will come in due time,” Lupin
said.

Due time was now.

Harry shook his head, determinedly returning Trow's unblinking stare. Continuous eye contact
was dangerous if the professor knew Occlumency, but Harry was prepared. If Trow wanted to invade
his mind, it was a battle he was prepared for. He had only tested himself against Hermione, but she
had never gone easy on him. Harry wagered he knew enough Occlumency to put up a fair fight.

*Test me,* he invited mentally.

“Professor Lupin is correct,” Trow said after a long while. “I know you're interested in
jumping ahead, but you have to learn the reason we fight before learning how to fight.”

Harry shook his head again. “Sorry, that's just not going to do anymore.”

Lupin switched gears from appeasing teacher to domineering instructor.

“Harry, you are here because you are important to what you're trying to accomplish, but do
not forget you are still a student. It is not your place to decide whether or not you're ready,
and for what. You'll be ready when we think you're ready.” Harry could tell that Lupin was
trying to inject some anger into his voice.

Harry could not be bluffed. He held the trump card, and now he knew it. Trow had let it slip. If
Harry were the only one capable of being trained for whatever they feared was coming, then he could
dictate the situation. It was a mistake for them to admit it and Harry intended to capitalize on
that mistake for all it was worth.

He continued to ignore Lupin, further angering the werewolf. “If you don't tell me what I
have to do to prepare myself, then I'm leaving.”

Lupin suddenly barked in laughter. “You can't leave, Harry.”

“I can - and I might even take some others with me. Or I can stay, but I'm tired of all your
double speak. Tell me what you want to tell me. You don't have to hide behind stories of evil
Grindelwald or how similar I am to Tom Riddle. I already know that. You already know that.
What's the point of continuing this charade?”

Trow remained silent, his face betraying nothing. Lupin, however, was growing more frustrated by
Harry's stubbornness. Harry could see the Creatures professor's hands twitching in
aggravation. The Slytherin kept his cool, waiting for a response from the person who mattered.

Trow answered, “No, Harry. You will have to wait.”

*Good,* Harry thought. *Just the answer I was expecting.* He played his last card.

“Then, I'm leaving. You know damn well that you need me far more than I need you.”

He turned on his heel and left, ignoring the pleas of Professor Lupin and noting the silence
from Professor Trow...

----------------------

...and he would have had the last word if not for the Strategy professor.

“Harry Potter,” Trow hectored. “So you really think you're ready?”

Harry stopped, his hand resting on the doorknob. He slowly turned and was surprised to find Trow
had drawn his wand. Harry ostentatiously slid his hand into his robes and grasped the handle of his
own wand.

“Do you think you're ready?” Trow repeated calmly, his wand loose in his hand.

Harry nodded. “I do.”

Trow nodded to himself and shrugged off his outer robes. He was dressed in a collared shirt that
looked oversize on his frame. The Strategy professor was frightfully thin without his robes. He
loosened the tie around his neck and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. Clearing his throat,
Trow laid his robes on top of one of the Stationary Omnioculars.

“Come, Harry. Let me see what you have learned.” Trow beckoned him forward with a flick of his
wand.

Harry felt a spull on his shoulder and stumbled slightly. He immediately righted himself and
raised his wand the accepted ready position. Next, he felt the familiar prong of Legilimency poking
against his shields. It was weak and generalized, but Harry recognized the spell immediately. He
flxed his shields and threw Trow out. His head was buzzing in disbelief. A teacher was attacking
him!

“You say you are ready. Show me.”

Trow stood ramrod straight. Although gaunt and pale, power nonetheless radiated from him. His
presence filled the room. He seemed taller, stronger. In Harry's presence, Trow had never
performed much more than a levitation spell, yet here was holding himself with the confidence of a
master duelist. Trow's gray eyes were sharp and held a slight twinkle.

Lupin stepped forward and warned, “Professor! This is not a -”

Trow silenced him just by holding up one hand. Even that slight movement displayed an impressive
gravitas. Never before had Harry seen this side of Trow. Trow had never exhibited any sign of
magical prowess.

“If you would be so kind to set up some wards, Remus. I've noticed that Harry plays to win,”
Trow directed.

Harry kept his wand in a ready position, his Occlumency shields stayed poise to attack any
Legilimency foray. Still, he was ill-prepared to duel - really duel - a Hogwarts professor. He had
not envisioned this scenario when he entered the room just minutes ago.

“Professor, I don't know what you want me to do, but I can't duel you,” Harry admitted.
He did not lower his wand but pointed it away from Trow.

Trow raised an eyebrow, a smile dancing on his lips. “Even a professor that would attack
you?”

The professor's wand barely moved, but Harry had to block a Stinging Hex. This time, Harry
aimed his wand at the hex's source. Professor Lupin muttered curses beneath his breath as he
cast defensive wards around them.

“Light wards, Remus. If Harry thinks he's ready, let us not baby him.” Trow's tone was
not scolding, but neither was it genial.

Harry ground his teeth, finding Trow not the least bit humorous. If the professor truly wanted
to duel, Harry would oblige. It all depended just how far the professor was willing to go.
Professor Lupin finished the last section of his wards. Instead of the normal dome that Snape
employed during one-on-one duels, these wards were translucent, protecting only the classroom walls
and its Stationary Omnioculars.

“Finished,” Lupin growled, clearly unhappy.

Trow nodded ever so slightly and turned to face Harry. The professor did not assume a usual
dueling pose. Instead of being poised, his feet off center, showing as little of his body as
possible, Trow faced him directly with his feet square. His wand was held in front, but held it
delicately as if it would snap at any moment.

“Are you ready, Harry?” Trow repeated.

Harry glowered in silence and prepared for the attack. Nothing happened.

Trow's opening ploy sought to throw Harry off by not attacking. The professor stood
stationary, his muscles completely relaxed and his gaze never leaving Harry.

Ten seconds.

Twenty seconds.

Thirty seconds.

Time ticked along without the slightest movement from Trow. Harry shuffled his feet, making sure
to never break eye contact. Not giving away his first movement had been drilled into Harry's
head since his first dueling class, but Harry wondered what Trow was playing at. Dread crawled into
the pit of his stomach. *Why isn't he moving?* As soon as that thought passed through his
mind, he cursed himself.

*Of course.*

Transfiguration did not require wand movements.

Harry leaped forward, barely escaping the flailing arms of a transfigured desk. Trow had
animated and reshaped it into a golem, the desk's legs functioning as arms. Scrambling to his
feet, Harry reduced the desk into kindling with a Reductor Curse. He had no time to breathe as a
chair scuttled forward, trying to ram him. Harry dispatched that one too and finally had a moment
to look up.

The room had become a transfigured house of horrors.

Almost every inanimate object had come alive. Desks, chairs - practically every unwarded object
- charged at him. Some still resembled their original state. Others had transmogrified into metal
and glass, making it more difficult to break them down. Harry bobbed and weaved, blasting apart
anything that got too close. With this display, Harry had to wonder what Trow had been before
coming to teach at Hogwarts. This level of transfiguration was spectacular, demonstrating a mastery
that was not easy to attain. He doubted even Professor McGonagall could achieve such control.

As he evaded a solid metal chair, Harry glanced at Trow. Was he even breaking a sweat? The
silver haired professor was relaxed, his wand swaying lightly, unmoved from his original position.
He appeared a conductor with the classroom his symphony. Harry dodged the swinging arms of another
desk and shot a Stunner at Trow, hoping to at least distract the professor. Trow nimbly stepped
aside, moving quickly for someone his age.

*“**Fulminare!”*

Harry's spell crackled through the air, destroying several of the attacking objects at once.
Sensing an opening, he banished several of the transfigured creations in Trow's direction with
a Whirlwind Charm. He focused on Trow and hesitated for a fraction of a second. What spell could he
use against a teacher? Trow exploited Harry's indecisiveness and hit Harry with a spell he had
never heard of before.

Harry's vision was suddenly disoriented. His world inverted, with the ceiling replacing the
floor. Harry stumbled around, grabbing at his face and trying to reorient himself. His vision had
obviously been flipped along the horizontal axis, but trying to make the appropriate corrections
was like trying to read upside down. It just would not compute.

“Finding you still have a lot to learn, Harry?” Trow asked, staying his attack and showing mercy
to his uppity student.

Trow could have, should have, finished him, but the professor was plainly trying to teach Harry
a lesson. Harry staggered, his stomach churning from the visual disorientation. Trow was clearly
superior. The older professor did not look the least bit tired from his transfiguration foray. Like
a funambulist, Harry held his arms widely to each side, trying to make sense of this upside-down
world. He was starting to get the hang of the strange orientation, but would never win the duel in
this condition.

“*Finite.”* He tried.

The counter-curse must have been something different, as Harry's had no effect. He wracked
his brain for some remedy. Trow had not ended the duel as he should have, so Harry still had a way
out - a chance to win.

*When faced with a superior opponent, focus on your obvious strengths.*

Harry could do something that he had not seen anyone else do, professor or student.

*“**Lux Trabem!”*

The Light Beam Charm focused a continuous, coherently focused beam of light at the target. While
Trow calmly brought up a *Protego* shield that reflected the spell, this was a spell Harry
could keep on target despite the visual disorientation, and it made it difficult for his opponent
to see him. He moved horizontally, making Trow move with him to maintain his shield. The spell
itself was not very powerful. A simple shield deflected it easily, but the shield had to be
maintained as long as the caster kept the spell up. It was generally inefficient - a defensive
attack, a diversion.

What Harry was planning could be called cheating, but in this context that term was a
disservice. He was merely playing to his strength, utilizing the one advantage he had.

Trow shuffled a bit to his right and to Harry's left, the *Protego* still blocking the
continuous stream of light emitted by Harry's wand. Harry was not proud of what he was
planning. It was neither honorable nor skillful. He would have been embarrassed to use it before a
larger audience.

But he would win.

With his free hand, Harry curled his fingers and beckoned the object towards him. The chair
behind Trow flew towards Harry, activated by the wandless Summoning Charm. It collided with the
back of Trow's legs, disrupting the professor's concentration for just long enough. His
*Protego* shield evaporated. Harry, anticipating his predicament, immediately cast an
*Expelliarmus*. Trow's wand floated through the air and Harry caught it neatly despite his
ongoing ocular impairment. It was the first time he had ever dual cast spells in a duel, and he had
not been sure they would work, but Harry was satisfied with the results.

Flat on his back, Trow clapped and laughed gaily.

“To be defeated in such a manner. It has indeed been quite a while since I've dueled. Remus,
if you could be so kind to cast the counter-charm on Harry,” Trow requested.

His vision restored, Harry was surprised that Trow remained prone on the ground. Professor Lupin
knelt down and assisted Trow into a seated position. No longer did Trow look powerful and
intimidating. On felled, he reverted to his usual weak and sickly appearance. The difference was
astonishing.

Trow leaned over and coughed into his hand. Red spots dotted his palm as Lupin hurriedly
conjured a towel for him. He shouldn't have felt guilty, but Harry squirmed. He hadn't
meant to cause any harm and hadn't even used his more dangerous curses. *Expelliarmus* was
the only spell that actually connected.

“It seems that you are the victor, Harry,” Trow wheezed through labored breaths.

Harry shook his head. “You had me beat. You should have finished me off.”

“Hardly the first time someone in a superior position took time to gloat. It is not a habit you
should cultivate, but do not think you will never see it in battle. The temptation can be
irresistible.”

Trow finally stopped coughing and regarded Harry with his silver eyes. Harry returned his steady
gaze and felt a poke against his Occlumency shields. This time, he rejected the attack with barely
any effort. Trow still seemed to be testing his defenses, but to what purpose?

Lupin helped Trow to his feet. The Strategy professor swayed and Lupin steadied him, concern
etched on his face. Even Harry was uncomfortable watching Trow's weak recovery. Had the duel
taken that much out of the professor? What state was Trow in that would produce this sort of
malady? Trow's feeble health had always been a question in the back of Harry's mind, but
never more pertinent than now.

“Are you okay, professor?” Harry had to ask.

Trow smiled weakly. “It has been many years since I have dueled like that, Harry. Ages ago.
I'm relieved to see that I could still muster some semblance of power, but that was all my body
could beare. I should be a warning to you. Respect the power of magic. Everything has its
cost.”

Flamel's words echoed in Harry's mind as Trow all but parroted them.

“I'm not surprised that you found a way to win. Yes, I could have disarmed you as soon as I
cast that tricky spell, but you found a way despite your impairment. You have a most remarkable
ability to keep cool under pressure. You do it better than almost anyone I've ever met.”

“Almost.” Harry caught the modifier.

Trow chuckled. “Yes. Almost. You are almost ready, Harry. Please indulge us if we don't tell
you everything right away. There are things that are beyond your control and, to be frank, out of
my control as well. Things in play need some time to develop. Come back next week and I promise
that our lesson will be more to your liking.”

Harry almost balked and accepted, but he had to press. “I want to know everything...why I have
to do this.”

Lupin gave an exasperated sigh, but again Trow held his hand up in silence. The slight turn of
his hand was not very animated, but it held significant power behind it. Harry now had no doubt
that Trow had been a man of great power. It was unfortunate that Harry, and Trow, had to use the
past tense.

“When the year ends, it might well be time to fully disclose what we fear you will face. I can
only ask for your patience, knowing that we do not deserve it. We're not heartless. We know we
have put you through a hard time, Harry. I can only ask that you wait a little while longer for it
to be the time to tell you. In the mean-time, I promise that our lessons will bear more fruit,”
Trow said.

It was the first time that someone from the faculty had acknowledged the purposefully hellish
situations they had inflicted on Harry. Even if it wasn't what he wanted - a full disclosure of
what he was meant to face - it was enough.

Harry nodded once.

Trow returned the motion in agreement.

“I'm afraid we must cut this particular lesson short. My body is not what it once was and I
must see Madame Pomfrey. Repairs are also in order...obviously.” Trow gestured around the destroyed
classroom. The wards had protected the Stationary Omnioculars, but nothing more. The rest of the
room was littered with the debris of shattered chairs and desks.

Harry left, feeling Lupin's judgement and Trow's ever steady calmness behind him. The
Slytherin was tired. The day had been long and filled with revelations. All he wanted to do was
return to his dormitories and collapse in his bed…

-------------------------------------

...but Harry's day was not yet done.

Clocks told him it was just past nine. Students would still be awake.

His first stop was the Hufflepuff Common Room entrance. Harry paid a First Year two Sickles to
retrieve Justin Finch-Fletchley. The sought-after Hufflepuff emerged from behind the barrels, a
weary expression on his pimpled face. Harry said nothing and simply pressed a coin into
Justin's hand.

Justin looked at the object curiously. In the dim light of the torches, the silver caught the
light just right. Harry gestured at it silently with his wand, then retrieved a similar looking
coin from his own pocket. Harry inscribed a word onto his own Sickle, and they both saw the same
words appear on Justin's Sickle. The Hufflepuff's eyes widened at the implications and
opened his mouth to speak.

Harry tapped Justin's lips with his wand, silencing him. The Slytherin shook his head and
pointed at the Sickle again.

“Pay attention. I will need you soon.”

He left, leaving Justin flabbergasted by the encounter.

Tired from climbing the stairs and still feeling residual fatigue from his duel with Trow,
Harry's mind could have wandered, but he did not lower his guard. He would never forget the
night it had started between him and Snape. The deed was done via proxy, but the four attackers
were still Snape personified. It should have been safe within the walls of Hogwarts, but Harry
understood that was just another false assumption. He eyes roved the hallways, patrolling the dark
corners for any would be attackers.

It only made the journey to the Gryffindor tower more arduous.

Harry inscribed a note into his Sickle and waited outside the portrait of the Fat Lady. That
portrait tried to shoo him away, but he paid her no attention. Hermione emerged through the
portrait hole, her body language flashing annoyance. If surprised to see him, she did not show
it.

“You know that you shouldn't be here...waiting outside of the Fat Lady...for me of all
people,” she spoke as if he were a backward First Year.

He shrugged, tired of having to hide in corners just to talk to her.

“I need your help,” he said.

“That much is obvious, but for what?” Hermione asked, demanding more facts.

“Next week, I have an extra class with Professors Trow and Lupin. I need you to come with
me.”

“Why?”

“Because I can't do it alone anymore.”

-------------------------------

**A/N: Projected update time - 29 days**
 Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7
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47. Darkness Rising
-------------------



Hermione awoke from her dream and remembered...nothing.

Sitting up, she grabbed her journal. Flipping to a new page, she carefully recorded several
lines. She recently developed a theory, and her notations documented more and more supporting
evidence. Almost every time she practised Occlumency before sleeping, her dreams were blissfully
blank. Without Occlumency, Hermione frequently became involved in Harry's recurrent dreams.
Sometimes, those dreams featured the screaming woman. Other times, more disturbingly, the theme was
the destruction of Hogwarts.

It was increasingly undeniable that their Legilimency was somehow linked with their shared
dreams. The most frustrating part was that Hermione had no idea *how* that could happen.
Library research unearthed various books, but they only alluded to shared dreams, and a majority of
them were found under the rather dubious heading of Divination. That particular branch of magic was
an absolute last resort.

Although the sun had not yet risen, Hermione readied herself with a shower. Water dripped off
her back, the hot steam stimulating her senses. She ran a hand through her hair, still disappointed
with the length. Metamorphmagi were able to alter their appearance. Hermione cursed not being
blessed with that gene. As she soaped her body, her thoughts wandered to Harry's impromptu
visit last night.

Harry had always been proud and stubborn, but usually recognized when he needed help. This year,
Hermione had repeatedly offered her services, but she would not beg. She would not take an axe to
break down Harry's locked emotional doors. Even a casual observer could tell he was struggling
with his workload. Maybe it was Fleur; maybe the tournament; or maybe the Slytherin revolt. Most
likely, it was a combination of all these problems.

Still, it was a surprise that he finally came to his senses and asked for her help. Hermione had
been content to let the rest of the year play out without anymore attempts to intervene in
Harry's affairs. Curiosity had always been one of her trademarks, so she couldn't help but
accept the olive branch Harry extended. The mystery of his secret class was finally resolving.

“Hermione!” Lavender yelled as she banged on the lavatory door. “What's taking you so long?!
You can't possibly still be washing your hair!”

In response, Hermione slammed down her hand on the shower knob. The water abruptly ceased, and
air began cooling her skin. The chill did nothing to abate the flare of anger rising from her
chest. Lavender Brown was the epitome of vain and conceited. How she had peacefully shared a
dormitory for over four years was beyond understanding. Wrapping her towel around herself, Hermione
cast a quick Drying Charm on her hair and opened the door.

Hermione favored the other girl with a faux-sweet smile. “Do take your time, Lavender. I
wouldn't want you to miss a spot on your face.”

Hurt flashed across Lavender's face. Hermione suppressed a sneer and pushed past Lavender.
Maybe that had been an overreaction, but Hermione was tired of the other girls constantly picking
on her looks. She didn't have the sleekest hair or a perfect body - nor the best skin or the
most perfectly shaped face. What did it matter? None of them were in the tournament. None of them
were in the Board Room. None of them could last thirty seconds in a duel against Hermione.

*Be strong, Hermione. Not everyone will appreciate your intelligence.* Her late
mother's voice drifted into her mind. To avoid Lavender, she dressed quickly and left the
dormitory.

She found Cedric in the Great Hall. He was already eating breakfast, munching on a plate of eggs
and hash. Hermione sat down beside him and poured herself a cup of tea. She touched him on the
shoulder, and he smiled toothlessly at her. While sipping on her tea, Hermione scanned the large
room. Other early risers included Draco Malfoy, sitting quietly near the end of the Slytherin
table, nursing a similar cup. Some older Slytherins she didn't recognize were hunkered at the
opposite end, as far from Malfoy as possible.

Marcus Belby sat with some Ravenclaws in his year. He made eye contact with Hermione and smiled.
She did not return it. Further down the table and surrounded by books, Terry Boot had bags under
his eyes. His breakfast was cooling untouched. Hermione smirked. That Ravenclaw was far out of his
depth in the Board Room, and he had been scrambling ever since Snape selected him. Hermione had
little sympathy for him because Terry had a nasty habit of underestimating and insulting others.
Perhaps he had learned his lesson.

At the Hufflepuff table a few feet away, Heather Locklear ate breakfast quietly. Her
dragon-inflicted burns had faded quite a while ago, and her hair had regrown to its original state.
Despite Cedric's invitations, she rarely sat with the Hufflepuff Champion. Since abandoning the
tournament, Heather had been very withdrawn. Hermione didn't blame her. The Gryffindor would
have felt guilty for quitting too.

“Meeting before first class,” Cedric announced after he finished a mouthful of eggs.

“So early?” Hermione questioned.

Cedric shrugged. “Nothing else fit everyone's schedules. You try getting ten people to agree
to one time. It's not easy.”

“Eleven,” Hermione corrected him. “You're missing one.”

“No, I counted right. Harry can't join us.”

Hermione arched an eyebrow at this explanation. “Why not? If everyone else can make it, then
Harry can too.”

“He said he was busy. I'll take his word and fill him in later,” Cedric said.

Annoyance struck Hermione. Harry was constantly receiving deferential treatment from everyone.
Lupin and Trow offered him private lessons. Snape constantly tested him with varying scenarios.
Now, Cedric was giving him a leave of absence. What did Harry do to inspire such reverence?

“Did he say what he was busy with?” Hermione pushed.

Cedric shrugged, shaking his head in the negative.

“And that's acceptable?”

The Hufflepuff stopped eating and cocked his head. “I thought you and Harry were friends. Why
the interrogation?”

Hermione squirmed a bit, rankled by Cedric's tone. “Just because we're friends
doesn't mean I can't question him. Is that what it means to be friends? I can't ask why
Harry gets special treatment?”

“Part of being *friends* is accepting answers with an assumption that a reason exists
behind an excuse.” Cedric shot back.

“I don't agree with that,” Hermione said, the volume rising in her voice. “You should
question everything.”

“That's because you have a problem with trust.” Cedric leaned in, his face unnaturally
serious. His voice barely above a whisper, he continued, “I'm not going to have this argument
here, Hermione. I'm not one of your housemates that you can just streamroll. Harry gave me a
good enough reason and that's the end of this discussion.”

Cedric exited without another word, leaving Hermione flummoxed. His sudden departure drew the
attention of the few people who were at the Great Hall. Hermione ignored them. Her jaw set in a
tight line as she gulped the rest of her tea. The warmth spread throughout her body and she felt
the tattoo pushing against her chest. Hermione tried to think, but her head was buzzing.

*Break it down.*

Cedric questioned her trust, but he was guilty of trusting others too much. He didn't know
Harry like she did. Harry held many secrets, and she was hardly privy to all of them. It was
obvious that Cedric had questioned Harry on his absence, and had received some excuse. That excuse,
whatever it was, couldn't have been the truth. Yet, it sufficed for Cedric to leave it alone.
If Potter was giving excuses to miss meetings, he was on the move. If he was on the move, he had to
have plans and targets. If he had targets…

Hermione touched the side of her chest over her robes. As always, there was more to Harry than
met the eye.

-------------------------------------------

The room had a little extra space, occupied by ten people instead of the original thirteen. One
of the empty chairs was next to Hermione as she waited for the meeting to start. Although these
were the supposed champions of Hogwarts, their meetings were just as bad as the others she attended
- a handful of reasonable opinions bubbling through a broth of chaos and trivia. Hermione hated
meetings.

Marietta and Cho were incorrigible enablers. They went out of their way to agree with each
other, despite glaring logical fallacies in their arguments. Fred and George were just as bad,
never publicly contradicting the other, although occasionally they had humor value. Roger, like
most Ravenclaws, held his head with his chin pointed upwards, all logic but little common sense.
Lee Jordan and Angelina Johnson were intelligent enough, but stubbornly Gryffindor when it came to
making, or not making, decisions. Hermione understood the importance, in their eyes, of house
solidarity, but they took it to unreasonable extremes. Stephen Stebbins was quiet, and Hermione was
grateful for his general silence.

Cedric had his issues as well.

The Hufflepuff called the meeting to order. He stood, dressed in dark robes with yellow trim,
striking a dominating figure even in a room of champions. Unflinchingly, Hermione met his eyes, and
he returned her steady gaze. The anger still burned in her stomach from their argument at
breakfast, but she refused to play an insurrectionist role. Hermione had felt the embarrassment of
her leadership being called into question. She would not do to Cedric what those detestable
Slytherins had done to Harry.

“Where's Potter?” Marietta asked.

“Not able to make it,” Cedric answered.

“Wonder what he's got going on? Rebellion? Romantic interlude with a troll?” Fred said.

“I'm thinking more along the lines of fighting off his many undesirable suitors,” George
quipped.

“Enough,” Cedric said.

“I thought I heard a rumor he was going to leave school,” Marietta continued despite
Cedric's warning. “Maybe he finally realized no one wants him here.”

“A shame he didn't go. Though he is a constant source of inspiration for us,” Fred and
George said at the same time.

“I said enough!” Cedric slammed an open palm on the desk. The light banter ended. The Hufflepuff
puffed his chest and delivered a glare that rivaled Snape's. He let the uncomfortable silence
trickle along, stretching it out for maximum effect.

“Potter killed a dragon in the First Task by himself. Saved Hermione from Tireur and took on
Krum during the Second Task. He's carried his part and then some. If you want to be childish
and make fun of him, I'm not going to stop you, but it won't happen here. Got it?”

Hermione was proud of him. She was still angry with him, but he reminded her why she fancied him
at that very moment.

“Third Task. Any clues?” Cedric asked, his tone uncharacteristically gruff.

The urge to answer overtook any sort of anger she held towards Cedric. Hermione said, “Nothing.
No eggs or other clues. Nothing that I've heard.”

Roger Davies cleared his throat in a self-important manner. “That's not entirely true. After
the dragons, I realized that one cannot ship dragons across international borders without proper
documentation. So, I reached out to Penelope Clearwater, who is now working for the Ministry in the
Department of International Affairs. After a bit of...cajoling, she disclosed that ledgers
confirmed importation of dragons from several countries. Of course, I don't think they would
ship dragons again, but Penny also confirmed that another ledger passed her desk. The Ministry
procured another shipment classified as dangerous beasts. The destination? Hogwarts.”

Hermione had to give respect when it was due. Roger had done his homework thoroughly. She also
wondered if Roger knew how illegal it was to gain that type of information. This Penelope
Clearwater would instantly be sacked if anyone found out.

“Did she say what it was?” Cedric asked.

“Fire-breathing lizards, I suspect,” Fred piped up.

“We've already had a flying fire-breathing lizard. Give them some credit. I was thinking
more along the lines of a blood-sucking unicorn,” George added.

Hermione scowled. Did they really think that was funny? Surely, someone else could recognize
that the twins' current comedic attempts were inappropriate in a champions' meeting.

“Enough.” Cedric repeated. “Did the ledger disclose what they were transporting?”

“No,” Roger answered. “It's just an import ledger. It included only the amount paid and the
origin of purchase.”

“Where was the country of origin?” Hermione asked, the gears in her mind starting to turn.

Roger blinked as if surprised by the question. He reached into his bag and plucked a notebook.
Flipping through the book, he settled on a particular page and read, “Greece and Romania
primarily.”

Hermione catalogued the two countries in her head. Luckily, she still had her creatures book. It
would be a stretch to pinpoint the exact beasts just from their country of origin, but it would
narrow the field.

“Ideas, Granger?” Marietta asked.

“Not yet, but I'll let you know soon.”

Cedric nodded, satisfied with some progress. He opened his mouth to speak again, but the sound
of the door opening interrupted him. Ten heads swiveled to investigate the newcomer. At first,
Hermione thought the stairway was darker than she remembered. Then, she realized the dark shadow
was someone's body.

Viktor Krum lowered his head as he tried to cram himself into the tower. His broad shoulders
filled the width of the doorway and he had to stoop to keep his head from scraping the ceiling.
After his dark and broody eyes scanned the room, an ugly scowl marred his face.

“Potter?” Krum grunted, his voice gravelly and intimidating.

Hermione looked around, not sure how to respond. Cedric answered for them.

“He's not here,” said the Hufflepuff.

The scowl on Krum's face grew even deeper. The Bulgarian's size was comical. He
completely blocked the doorway and towered over everyone. Very few people's mere physical
presence could make Hermione feel uncomfortable. A well placed *Stupefy* would neutralize the
largest human. Yet, Krum's physicality was a beast of its own. Hermione discretely flexed her
wrist and her wand slipped into the palm of her hand.

Krum grumbled something and stepped aside, covering the window with a body that blotted out the
sun. A much smaller boy stood behind him. Hermione recognized him as Georgi Tomak. The pudgy boy
was a mouse next to Krum. Georgi's brown eyes darted around nervously, but he stepped into the
already crowded room nonetheless.

The two Durmstrang students exchanged words in what Hermione supposed was Bulgarian. She
strained her ears, searching in vain for any recognizable words. She did not have an ear for
languages.

“Viktor wants to know if Potter will be coming,” Georgi translated after a few moments. He spoke
clear English.

Still standing, Cedric shook his head. “Not today.”

Another rapid exchange eluded Hermione's understanding. She was growing increasingly
frustrated by the side conversation. Were there spells that translated languages in real time? She
would have to research that topic.

Krum actually growled, the deep rumbling reverberated in Hermione's bones. What was wrong
with him? What did he want with Harry? The Bulgarian huffed and drew his robes tight around him.
The movement disturbed the air and flipped the pages of Hermione's journal. In a surprising
show of nimbleness, Krum deftly stepped around Tomak and made to exit the tower.

“Wait!” Cedric yelled. He, too, sensed strangeness in Krum's appearance. “What do you want
with Potter?”

Krum stopped, the muscles in his back visible even through his thick robes. He turned his head
to the side so Hermione saw his face in profile. His nose was large and hooked, his eyes sallow and
sunken in. Hermione found it hard to imagine anyone finding him handsome, but he was an
international Quidditch star. Celebrity could banish ugliness. Krum grunted and then spoke - in
English.

“Fly.”

“Pardon?” Cedric said.

Krum scoffed though Hermione did not know why he took such offense.

“Fly,” he repeated. “Third task. Fly.”

------------------------------------------

Harry waited until every fourth year Slytherin was in the Common Room. He had prepared his
speech the night before and woke early the next morning to make sure he was ready. Sitting on a
chair that faced the stairs, Harry watched as the students came down from their dormitories.
Finally, Blaise arrived.

Standing up suddenly to draw attention, Harry smoothly approached Blaise. He came to a stop in
front of him and looked up at the boy. Blaise had a highly suspicious nature, and Harry's
approach must have triggered his internal alarm bells. Knowing that many eyes were on him, Harry
put on a performance. He bowed his head, pretending to show deference, and held his hands out to
his sides. After adopting this submissive position, Harry started his apology.

“I wanted to say I'm sorry for my actions in the past. I was piggish and arrogant. It was no
way for a Commander to act, and you were right for calling my leadership into question. No excuses,
I should have done better for all of you. I just wanted to apologize for that.''

Harry stuck out his hand for a handshake, knowing Blaise could not deny him in public. Blaise
hesitated for just a moment, but Harry, very watchful, still caught it. Blaise's eyes flicked
left and right as if he knew it was a trap. His breathing hitched ever so slightly. His actions
were small, but Harry knew Blaise well enough to know when the other boy was nervous.

Blaise accepted his offered handshake and nodded curtly. Harry had caught him by surprise. It
was rare for Blaise to be speechless. He was much like Hermione in that regard. Harry performed a
small bow and exited the Common Room. He heard the secret passage reopen behind him but did not
bother to look. Footsteps trailed him, so Harry cast a cursory glance over his shoulder. It was
Draco.

Harry slowed until his new Commander caught up with him.

“Need something, Commander?” Harry referred to Draco by his title. He did not know what role
Draco played in the coup, but Tracey trusted him. He needed to credit what Tracey told him if he
were to regain the position.

“Nice little trick you pulled back there. Do you think Blaise believed you?”

It was Harry's turn to be caught off-guard. He hadn't expected Draco to be so
straight-forward. “Not particularly.”

Draco nodded. “Good. Walk with me.”

Harry fell into step beside him. Most of the time, he didn't interact much with the Malfoy
heir. Harry had been happy to rely on the boy's versatility and effectiveness in Battle class,
but anywhere else, Draco was either by himself or with Tracey. Harry didn't mind. If Tracey
wanted Draco's company, she was free to consort with whoever she wanted. Still, Draco's
sudden turnabout from a pompous jerk to a moody soul was off-putting.

“I wanted to tell you that I opposed the vote from the beginning. However you treated us,
Slytherin was still winning. It's the results that matter, right?” Draco asked.

“Not all the time, I guess.”

Draco nodded again as they turned the corner. They were both heading for Dueling class. “Public
perception is important. You're usually the best around at that; scared opponents have lost
before they start. But I guess you've been a little distracted lately.”

Harry didn't need to respond to that statement. The Tournament of Champions was evidence
enough. It was pointless to reference his other extracurricular activities.

“Regardless, I'm going to keep us winning. My methods will differ from yours, but I expect
we should finish as the top House this term. I can't publicly name you as my number two. I also
know something about public perception. Still, I'm not stupid; I know I need your help. I hope
me being Commander won't lessen your efforts in Battle class.”

“Of course it won't,” Harry responded.

“I figured you wouldn't slack. It's not really in you. I also have to give you a bit of
a dressing down for missing Battle the other day, but I won't ham it up too much.” A ghost of a
smile crossed Draco's face, but it could have been an illusion; a trick of the eye. They were
close to Moody's classroom.

“One last thing,” said Draco. “You should talk to Tracey. I don't know whether you've
seen her, but she was awfully upset about you leaving. I've been spending some time with her,
since we're both in Medical. It doesn't take a genius to realize how she feels about you.
Even someone like me can figure that out.”

That turn in the conversation made Harry quite uncomfortable. Since when did Draco criticize, or
even comment on, his relationship with Tracey? Had the pair grown so close lately that Draco
presumed to chide Harry about this subject? Was this Tracey's idea? Harry had to swallow his
annoyance, however. It would do no good fighting with the new Commander.

“I'll talk to her,” he said, phrasing it so that Harry appeared to be obeying a command.

Draco nodded once more. “That's all for now, Potter.”

Harry did not want to do what he had just promised Malfoy. The thought of a girlfriend, be it
Tracey or almost anybody else, filled him with ambivalence. Was it even safe, for the girl, for him
to have such a relationship? Something was up. Sooner or later, and he intended it would be sooner,
Harry would discover the great secret behind the special, extra rough attention bestowed on him by
Snape and other Hogwarts staff. Maybe, once he knew what was in store, he would allow his emotions
freer reign. But not now - maybe not ever, if the news was bad.

Feeling troubled, Harry took a seat near the front of Moody's classroom. Today's lesson
would be with the Gryffindors. Hermione entered five minutes before class started as usual. He gave
her a slight nod that she didn't return. Harry shrugged internally. She was always cold to him
in public. When Tracey entered the classroom, he subtly pointed next to him. Tracey caught on and
took the seat. His feelings for her were still turbulent, but he could at least try being a better
friend.

“Settle down,” Moody barked, emerging from the teacher's room. “Today will be
Unforgivables.”

They were all well-versed in what the Unforgivable Curses were. Given their constant dueling, it
was hard not to think about them. Still, Moody had never offered a formal lesson on Unforgivables,
so Harry, along with the rest of the class, sat up a little straighter.

“You all know them, so I'll skip the mundane asking what they are.” Moody clomped around the
classroom, his magical eye swiveling rapidly in its socket. “We're gonna approach them a bit
differently. Why do you think that those three spells, and only those, are considered
unforgivable?”

Harry was fairly certain he knew the answer, but kept his hand down. He saw Hermione predictably
raise her hand, but she was hesitant. That was because the answer was not book learning, but she
was always determined to be the first.

“Miss Granger. Go.”

“They're spells intended to harm and only harm someone. They serve no other purpose,” she
answered more assuredly than Harry expected.

“Don't know how you do it, but you got it, Granger.” He turned to the class as a whole.
“They are intended for pain and malice aforethought. I know what you'll ask me, and you're
wrong! Even the darkest spells can be used in some benign manner. Take the spell that cut off my
leg.” Moody smacked his wooden staff against his wooden leg.

“That's gotta be unforgivable, right? Dark magic for sure.” Moody paused to hear nonexistent
rebuttals. “Not necessarily. Say there's a virus or a spell that's eating up your leg. Same
dark magic that cost me my leg permanently could have saved my life.”

Again, Hermione's hand shot up in the air. With an air of resignation, Moody fluttered his
fingers as permission to pose another question.

“I read about a Body-Explosion curse. That can only be intended to harm. Why isn't that an
Unforgivable?” she asked.

“Well caught again, Granger. She's right.” Moody banged his staff against the ground and a
spider flew out of a jar on his desk. Somewhere behind Harry, Ron Weasley squeaked aloud.

“You know the incantation for the Body-Explosion, girl?” Moody paused and looked at Hermione
expectantly. Harry would not be surprised if she did.

She nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Do it on that spider.”

Hermione needed a deep breath to center herself, but performed the curse. After a loud blast,
the class was treated to a shower of legs and other arachnid bits generated from the spider's
implosion. Harry conjured a solid shield that covered him and Tracey. He wanted no spider guts in
his hair.

“Good. Easy enough spell ain't it? Especially against something that can't fight back.
You ask why I had Granger do that? My reasoning is simple enough. The other part of the three
Unforgivables is intent. You must mean it. The Unforgivables ain't no wand waving, focusing, or
incantation exercise. If you don't have the hate, you can't muster an Unforgivable.” Moody
pounded a fist against his chest as he strode between desks.

“Example,” Moody growled. “Malfoy. Hit me with an *Imperio*.”

Draco shook his head. “I don't think I can right now, sir.”

Moody scoffed. “Your father in prison has made you soft, boy. What about you, Zabini? I know you
don't like me. Hit me with the Imperius.”

Blaise hesitated but eventually shook his head. Harry knew no love was lost between Blaise and
Moody, but even Blaise must have realized that he didn't need his second trap of the day.

“What's wrong, Zabini? Got no balls? Pffff. Anyone else? Just an Imperius curse, folks.
Ministry won't know and I doubt any of you can do it anyhow.” Moody spread-eagled his arms,
inviting an attack. Despite, or because of, his recent bout with Trow, Harry was in no mood to
attack another professor.

“No? Weasley? Thomas? Granger? Bulstrode? Ain't any of you got a spine?” Moody growled as he
shamed them one by one. “Fine. *Imperio!*”

Harry was ready. When Moody pivoted towards him, he conjured a solid blocking shield.
Unfortunately, the spell wasn't directed at him. It hit Tracey's chest and Harry cursed
himself for not protecting them both. Moody barked out a laugh as he walked to the front of the
classroom.

“Constant vigilance, Potter. That's Auror-quality material right there. Too bad you
didn't anticipate I was going for your little girlfriend. Let's see. Start jumping up and
down, Davis,” Moody commanded.

She followed his orders with a vacant expression on her face.

“Tell Potter that he smells like dung,” Moody ordered.

Tracey turned, faced him and said, “You smell like shit, Harry.”

The class got a good laugh out of that one, and Moody's smile grew larger. Harry did not
like that. When the class stopped chuckling, Moody gave his next order.

“Walk slowly to the window and jump out.”

Harry's chair scraped backwards as he stood up, wand raised. Tracey followed his command and
started walking towards the window. They were on the fourth floor. Surely, Moody would not let this
happen. Some of the other Slytherins were standing as well. Draco. Blaise. Pansy.

“There you go! Looks like there's bit of spine in you lot after all. Feel that anger going
through you? That's necessary if you want to cast an Unforgivable. Come on. *Imperio* is
the easiest one. Even the most yellow-bellied wizards can get it right. Most can't manage the
Killing Curse, but any of you can do an *Imperio* if you got the right hate for it. Come on.
Miss Davis is getting awfully close.”

Harry knew that no harm could come to Tracey. In a feat of extraordinary restraint, he lowered
his wand. The rest of the class looked at him in confusion, but surely they would catch on. Moody
would not let Tracey defenestrate herself. It was preposterous.

But Moody did not release her from the spell. She crept ever closer to the window, her feet
shuffling across the floor. Harry kept his wand lowered, meeting Moody's steely gaze. So far,
Moody hadn't tested his will, but Harry would not back down. However much they needed him, they
weren't going to start killing off students in the classroom to test his mettle.

“Do something, Potter!” Parvati hissed from behind him.

*“**Imperio!”* Blaise cried. Nothing came from his wand, and Moody laughed again.

Harry held his ground even as Tracey undid the latch for the window. A cool gust of air blew
into the classroom. Harry blinked as tears welled in his eyes. Moody's magical eye was spinning
frenetically now. Tracey raised a leg to step onto the windowsill. The class gasped, and several
students stood up. Blaise raced towards the window and grabbed onto Tracey's wrist, but she
resisted him. Harry remained unmoved.

*“**Imperio!”*

The same vacant expression briefly overtook Moody's face, but vanished in roughly two
seconds. He threw off the Imperius Curse like it was nothing, but the curse disrupted his hold on
Tracey. Tracey screamed as at last she comprehended the imminent fifty foot drop to the Hogwarts
grounds. Her legs buckled, and she almost fell out of the window. Blaise yanked her back into the
classroom, and she collapsed on top of him.

Moody wheeled around on his wooden leg and fixed both eyes on the person who successfully cast
the spell.

“Need a little more hate, Granger, but you're on the right track.”

“Would you rather have been exploded?'

-----------------------------

Harry shambled towards the Slytherin Common Room after a grueling Battle class. Slytherin had
won, thanks to Draco's assured command. Hermione had been off her game and lunged into
Draco's traps. Harry managed to clean up the remaining Gryffindors to secure the victory.

Before Battle class started, he had pulled Tracey aside and whispered into her ear that Moody
was just testing him. Moody would have never let her fall. Harry suspected that she had only nodded
for his benefit. It angered him. Tracey was continually being used by the staff to taunt and
frustrate him. He had no doubt that it was being done on purpose.

Was it a warning to him? To her? To everyone?

Lost in his thoughts, he almost ran headlong into Viktor Krum.

It should have been hard to miss him, but Harry was lost in the clouds. At the last moment, he
dodged the behemoth, spun out of the way, and mumbled an apology.

He did not expect Krum to reach out and grab him.

Harry instinctively reached for his wand, but the expression on Krum's face stopped him. It
wasn't one of anger. The Bulgarian seemed sheepish. He released Harry and stepped back.

“Potter,” he said in his gruff voice. “*Danka...*Thank you...for saving me.”

The words were harsh and did not come easy to Krum, but Harry understood plainly. Harry nodded
slowly and struggled to find the right response. The last time he was this close to Krum, Harry was
pulling the Durmstrang student out from the icy water of the Great Lake.

“It's no problem. Sorry we were in that situation to begin with.”

Harry did not know if Krum understood the exact meaning, but he seemed to understand the general
sentiment. The large Bulgarian fidgeted on his feet and spoke again, slower and more deliberate
this time.

“For Third Task, you can fly?” Krum asked.

Harry had to smile despite the day's events. “Not without a broom.”

“*Da*. You will need broom.”

Harry cocked his head and tried to simplify his words. Didn't they have translators? Someone
as famous as Krum should use a translator spell constantly.

“I'll need a broom for the Third Task?” While rephrasing Krum's statement, Harry
pantomimed sweeping with a broom.

*“**Nein.”* Krum shook his head. Looking around, Krum spied some left-behind
parchments. He pointed his wand at them. Harry watched as Krum transfigured each parchment into a
model of a wizard on a broom. Krum tore the parchment into pieces and transfigured until twelve
calfskin wizards circled slowly around them. He certainly had a talent.

“Third Task. We all fly.”

Harry understood this time. Nodding his head, Harry placed his wand against his chest. It was a
sign of respect in a duel and he thought Krum would appreciate it. The Durmstrang student
reciprocated the act.

“No more debt,” Krum added after bowing.

When Harry scrunched his face in confusion, Krum paused and had a pensive look on his face. His
lips moved silently before he found the words he wanted to say the second time.

“Me and you. Even. No more debt.”

Harry understood. He bowed again to Krum. Harry wasn't sure he would consider that even, had
the tables been turned, and he owed Krum his life. Given that his actions had put Krum in that
situation in the first place, Harry considered the exchange close enough. If the Third Task was an
aerial event, it was already to Krum's advantage. By advising Harry of the secret nature of the
task, the Bulgarian was depriving Durmstrang of a monumental advantage.

He had to find Cedric. He had to find Hermione.

And he had to find Justin. Time was of the essence, and plots had to be made.

-----------------------------

The cave was soothing late at night. Flickering torchlight danced against the glass. Hermione
sat cross legged in front of the pool. She was practicing Occlumency, keeping her head clear and
blank. She was failing.

Frustrated, she ran her hand along the shallow pool of water. Back and forth she went, watching
the patterns as waves rippled, reflected, merged, and separated. They interfered with one another
until the pond's surface was all indescribable waves. *Need a little more hate,
Granger…*

Moody's words echoed in her mind and prevented any semblance of clarity. She had come to the
same conclusion Harry obviously had. Moody would never actually let Davis jump from the fourth
floor of Hogwarts. Yet, she alone had balked. She had done what Moody had tried to provoke Harry to
do.

Why had she intervened in Harry's passion play? Why had she played the hero when Harry
refused to be baited? Her anger focused on whatever ridiculous lesson Moody had tried to impart,
but not solely from that. There were other sources. Her parents. Snape's unfairness. Her
parents. Constantly being underestimated. Her parents.

She was ashamed...then contemplative...then angry.

Hermione wondered if Harry shared her feelings. Moody had used Tracey to test Harry's
resolve, and he had passed, but at what cost? She could not miss the hurt in Tracey's eyes when
the spell broke. Harry would surely explain why he had not acted, but her hurt would remain. The
Hogwarts staff were bloody bastards, using anything and anyone to test him. Her earlier annoyance
with Cedric's nonchalance over Harry's now seemed pathetically petty.

She slapped her own cheek in disgust at her inability to concentrate on the matter at hand -
Occlumency. She tried clearing her mind, but it kept wandering back to Dueling class. Hermione just
couldn't believe Moody's jaw-dropping tactics. Not only were they dangerous, they were
reckless and out of control. At least, that's how she viewed things. Now, more than ever,
Hermione wanted to know about Harry's extra lessons with Lupin and Trow. What were they trying
to teach him?

“Dobby?” Hermione called out. Her rapport with the House-Elf had improved, and he was
comfortable showing himself on a more regular basis. On cue, Dobby popped into existence.

“Yes, miss?”

“Could you give me a few minutes to myself?” Hermione asked. Dobby usually bought her lie.

The House-Elf still flushed red and responded, “Yes, miss.”

He walked to the entrance of the cave and vanished with another pop.

Hermione remained seated in front of the pool as her thoughts turned to her parents. She
scrupulously avoided wallowing in depression or self-pity, but it was hard not to think about them
when she was alone. Even a mind like Hermione's could only keep busy for so long no matter how
hard she pushed. She remembered her mother's wise words and her father's calm demeanor.
They were just dentists, uninvolved in this madness, and still they were caught in the line of
fire.

The great unanswered question remained: who pulled the trigger?

The official explanation was former Death Eaters attacking the family of a Muggleborn whose
intellectual capacity had unfortunately attracted too much attention. Snape had told her that. So
had the investigating Auror. She heard the same reason from the head of the Department of Magical
Law Enforcement herself. Yet...yet...Hermione had her suspicions. She did not believe in
coincidence, and even less in grand conspiracies. That the Death Eaters would kill her parents to
send some indirect message to Snape never sat well with her.

Too convenient. Too roundabout. There were too many, more direct routes to threaten Snape.

To take the most obvious example, they could have simply killed her instead.

When she considered other possible culprits, only one name returned with frequency. The more she
thought about it, the angrier she got. All of that hate which had been pooling within over the past
two years flowed through her. The lion pulsed against her chest as her thoughts turned dark. Moody
wanted more hate. She had more than enough hate.

The cave no longer served as a peaceful sanctuary. Hermione heard a roar in her ears, and the
tattoo against her chest begged for relief. Power surged through her wand as she gripped it
tightly. Hermione focused on a spot on the wall and saw red. The anger surged from within as tears
ran down her face.

“Did you do it?” she whispered. “Did you do it?”

The wall did not answer. The pool did not answer. The lake above did not answer. Hermione wanted
an answer to a question that no one save her was asking any longer. No one except for her. Did she
dare? The lion scratched against her chest. She blinked and the world slowed around her. She could
hear her heart beating wildly against her chest. She felt the air thrumming through her lungs. She
felt the river of blood pounding through her veins.

“Did you do it - damn you!”

*“**Avada Kedavra!”*

A green light shot from her wand and collided with the wall. It did not explode with a fury.
Sparks did not fly. It was a simple green beam.

Hermione gasped, her wand dropping from her hand and clattering against the smooth stone floor.
What had she done? What madness had overtaken her?

She scooped up her wand and raced out of the cave. Taking the stairs two or three steps at a
time, Hermione returned to Gryffindor tower in record time. Though it was late, she jumped into the
shower. She turned it scalding hot, painful to the touch. She scrubbed her skin until it was red
and raw.

*Go away. Go away. Go away!* Hermione chanted in her head.

A voice responded. It was her own but not her own. Familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.

*Felt good, didn't it?*

Hermione jumped in the shower, pulling back the curtain to make sure she was alone in the steamy
bathroom. Mist had condensed on the mirror, layering it in a heavy fog. She turned off the shower
and droplets clung to her skin. Hermione emerged naked, forgoing the towel. She wiped the fog from
the mirror with her bare hands and stared. Her skin was hot to the touch and chafed bright pink
where she scrubbed too hard. The tattoo drew her gaze. She touched it.

Cold.

“It didn't. It didn't feel good,” she whispered.

“Excuse me, dear?” It was the mirror.

Hermione glared at her reflection. “Was it you? Did you ask me if it felt good?”

The mirror chuckled, aggravating Hermione even more. “Are you hearing things, dear?”

The voice returned.

*No. You're not.*

---------------------------

“He passed.”

“Yes, he did, but not without damage. You made a grave error when he came to you. He assumes the
situation is not real. He finds no danger in abstract matters. How can we evaluate him accurately
if the boy assumes he will suffer no repercussions?”

“What would you have us do? We can not repeat the same trick. He will know if we resort again to
the proxy route using other students. He will suspect subterfuge at every turn. We must be more
truthful with him.”

“This would have never happened if you hadn't told him that he was essential.”

“That he would eventually realize his own importance was always inevitable. It is best to start
letting him control the situation. That is why he came back. If we antagonize him any more, we risk
that he will become precisely what we fear.”

“Did you not think he would turn into him regardless?”

“A worst-case scenario we must always keep in mind. We will start bringing him into the
fold.”

“Perhaps you are right. I have unsettling news from the Ministry. They wish to call an immediate
session to discuss the program.”

“Are they starting to believe?”

“Yes. Old families have stopped returning Floo calls. Lucius Malfoy has gone missing from
Azkaban. I warned the Ministry what would happen if they did not heed my warning, and here we are
again. The mistakes of the First War threaten to repeat themselves. Fortunately, we are now in a
much better position to combat the Dark Lord.”

“And yet, still no sight of him. He is biding his time. Do we risk drawing him out? Do we tempt
him? Are we ready for that?”

“I think not, but we may have no choice. I am tired of fighting blind. Will the boy be prepared
by the end of the year?”

“As ready as I wish? No. Competent enough to lead the war? Perhaps.”

“Push harder. If you say he is ready to be brought in the fold, then bring him in. The last task
is but two weeks away, and the Ministry representatives will be present. Should he underperform, it
would be disastrous. We must give the Ministry no cause to doubt us.”

“Do they sense the true nature?”

“I doubt it, but it is best to play it cautious. Accelerate the program.”

“Understood. There is one other topic to discuss. The girl. She performed the curse.”

“The easiest of the Unforgivables. What of it?”

“Do you think she is capable of more?”

“Her? I think not. It is doubtful she would be able to perform the Killing Curse.”

“Doubtful but not impossible.”

“As close to impossible as possible. I would not worry.”

“I agree.”

---------------------------

**A/N: Projected update time - 35 days**

**Author Notes: There are roughly 5 or 6 chapters left in Book 2. I hope to have Book 2
finished by the end of July. There will likely be a delay after Chapter 49 as I want to release the
last 4 chapters in quick succession.**
 Document created with wvWare/wvWare version 1.2.7
-->



48. Deception
-------------



He was somewhere deep below Hogwarts. It was dark, too dark to see even a few feet in front of
him. Harry felt weak and unsure of his footing. Stumbling over a tangled vine, he fell. Mud and
dirt soaked his clothing. He pushed onwards, trying to reach the end of the tunnel. A light, bright
but ominous, shown before him. One foot moved in front of the other as he approached the bright
light.

A hiss.

Harry reached for his wand but found nothing. He pushed his back against a wall. The atrium had
more light than the dark tunnel, but still not enough. He could hear it. A gigantic snake slithered
along the ground, its skin against the floor. Every scale pushed and pulled, propelling the
behemoth creature. The snake approached him.

A scream.

“Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead!”

“Harry…”

“Harry…”

“Harry!”

Fists flew as Harry tried to fight his attacker. He flailed blindly. Unseen hands grabbed his
shoulders and pushed him down. The struggle continued, hands and limbs tangled everywhere. He heard
words, but he could not decipher them. Another pair of hands joined the fray and shoved him
backwards, trapping his arms.

“Calm down, Potter,” Goyle grumbled, his meaty hands locked tightly around Harry's
wrists.

Harry finally settled, panting furiously. His eyes adjusted to the light. He looked up to see
Draco and Goyle gazing down at him. Goyle wore a worried expression. Draco stared at him blankly
with just a hint of surprise.

“Let me go,” Harry ordered.

Goyle then removed his death grip from Harry's wrists. Draco lifted his hands off
Harry's shoulders. Pushing against the bed, Harry rocked into a seating position. Draco
continued staring until Harry snapped at him.

“What?”

“You might want to get that scar looked at.” Draco pointed at his own forehead.

Reaching up, Harry felt something damp against his forehead. He traced the outline of his scar
and pulled back his hand, finding blood on his fingers. With the corner of his sheet, he wiped away
the rest of the blood. Sweat dripped down the back of his shirt. It would have been much more
comfortable to sleep shirtless, but the additional scars on his back would undoubtedly raise
unwanted questions.

“You feeling okay, Potter?” Draco asked, his eyes cold and glittering in the dark.

Harry's first reaction was to spit back a smarmy retort, but he bit his tongue. Draco was no
longer one of his underlings. He was the Commander, and he deserved the respect that came with the
title as long as he upheld the responsibilities of the position.

“Just one of those nights,” Harry quietly responded. “I'm fine. You can all go back to
bed.”

They dispersed, slowly slinking off into the darkness. Blaise returned to bed last, his eyes
never leaving Harry's. Harry did his best to feign disinterest. He had a long day ahead and
needed full control of his faculties. Closing the curtains, he flopped back into bed. The dreams
had been longer and more vivid as of late. He often wondered what they meant, but he was no expert
dream interpreter.

Divination was not his strong suit.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The air tickled Blaise's nose, and he struggled not to sneeze. Every additional second was a
second too long spent in this carriage. Pacing in front of the Slytherin was the inscrutable Karim
Tireur. Karim's strides were long and purposeful, his legs twining together on every fourth
step as he twirled around with perfect balance.

His egotistical smile had vanished, replaced by an annoyed frown that marred his angular face.
The dim light floated around them and reflected oddly from Tireur's bald head. The reflections
danced around the room, illuminating the dark corners and revealing the small size of Tireur's
temporary home. Blaise waited for the Beauxbatons boy to speak first.

Karim could not help but oblige.

“Potter. Potter. Potter. It's always about Potter. Everything I hear in this school is about
Potter. Still he doesn't strike me as overwhelmingly impressive. Talented? Yes. Brave? Surely.
But…”

Karim trailed off, gesturing towards the invisible crowd.

Blaise remembered a dark night in a cave. He remembered murder in Harry's eyes. He
remembered the flash of lights as Gryffindor dueled Slytherin. He remembered the gurgling cough of
a Hufflepuff whose life slowly ebbed away. These horrid events were completely foreign to Tireur.
It was no wonder he did not understand Harry. Tireur did not know the darkness within the
Boy-Who-Lived.

“What do you want, Tireur? Loafing around isn't something I have time to do right now,”
Blaise pushed.

“So I've heard. Changes in the Slytherin leadership?”

Blaise arched an eyebrow. “You have an unusual interest in the day to day of Hogwarts.”

“This is an unusual school,” Tireur rebutted with an ineffectual shrug. “It is full of
victors...losers...traitors…”

The Slytherin narrowed his eyes. An edge crept into the back of Blaise's mind. Tireur's
inflection on his last word left no doubt as to what the Beauxbatons student was implying. To what
end, Blaise did not yet know, but the Slytherin was now on guard. He chastised himself. It was
foolish *not* to be on guard around Tireur. An unsettling glint was always in Tireur's
eye, like he was privy to a joke no one else knew. This time, Blaise was afraid he was the butt of
it.

“Your uncomfortable awareness of school politics continues. Don't think I don't know why
you've asked me to come. You want something on Harry,” Blaise deduced.

“Why else would I invite you back here?” Tireur innocently asked.

“Cut the shit.” Blaise grew irritable. “Tell me what you want.”

“You implied the Gryffindor Muggleborn would be a weakness. If anything, she spurned him into
action. Anyone could see, if anyone were distracted by her pain, it was the Diggory boy. Potter did
no more than was necessary to secure her safety and moved on. Why would you imply that harming her
would distract Potter?”

Tireur's trenchant remarks letl of the fight out of Blaise. Truthfully, Blaise thought
Granger would be a source of weakness for Harry. He had never known Harry to let anyone inside his
fortress-like emotions, but Granger had somehow wormed her way in. His was simply a miscalculation
of what she exactly meant to his housemate.

“For your incorrect tip, I think you owe me something substantially better this time,” Tireur
said.

“And what would that be?” Blaise sarcastically asked.

“Temper.” Tireur clucked his tongue. “I don't need to remind you that you have far more to
lose than I.”

“And how's that?” Blaise asked, while knowing the answer himself.

“Unless I've misread the situation, betraying Potter to me would be your second treason. Or
is it your third? It is hard to keep track with you, Zabini. From what I've heard, the rest of
Slytherin would not take too kindly with multiple treasons.”

“And I could go to the headmasters and say you were cheating,” Blaise shot back.

“Everyone cheats.” Tireur smiled with that same inside joke smirk. “Do you think Krum didn't
know what we would be doing for the Second Task? Do you think he transfigured that entire suit of
armor in a whim? Such a large scale transfiguration isn't something that you invent in the
twenty minutes it took to row out to the ice island. It required practice. Dedication.
Mastery.”

Tireur smirked.

“Go ahead. Tell the headmasters I squeezed the information out of you. Guess who still
loses?'

*Me*, Blaise thought.

Tireur continued to pace around the Slytherin, his strides long and purposeful.

“Unfortunately, the purpose of the third task continues to elude us. I believe Krum knows, but
the bumbling buffoon trusts me less than I trust you,” Tireur said.

Blaise shook his head. Krum was no buffoon. He was a mountain of a man and talented at
transfiguration to boot. Why Tireur would ever refer to someone that could crush his head with one
hand as a buffoon, Blaise would never know.

“Does Potter know what the third task is?” Tireur finally arrived to the point of their
meeting.

Blaise had to laugh. Despite the Frenchman's unhealthy fascination with Hogwarts politics,
he had not sensed the falling out between Harry and Blaise. Did Tireur really think that Blaise
could just betray Harry without any reason? He was afraid he blew his cover, but Blaise recovered
well.

“He doesn't know.”

It was Tireur's turn to narrow his eyes. “Don't lie to me, Zabini.”

*Careful. Tow the line.*

“I'm not lying,” Blaise said honestly. “I don't know for sure if Harry knows, but I
strongly doubt it. If that's what you came here for, then I might as well leave. I know nothing
about the tasks. You should have tried blackmailing one of the champions instead.”

“No,” Tireur said. “They have too much to gain by counter-spying on me. You, on the other hand,
have nothing to gain at all.”

Blaise fought the urge to sigh. Tireur was right. Outside, the light dimmed as the sun set over
the horizon. Night was falling, and Blaise would soon have to return to Hogwarts. It was for the
best. Just stall for just a few more minutes, and Tireur would have no choice but to release
him.

The Beauxbatons boy surprised him by ending his pacing and walking towards the door. As if on
cue, the door knocker rattled three times. Tireur reacted so quickly that Blaise figured he must
have had some sensory charm. The door opened and Blaise was surprised to find a beautiful
quarter-Veela entering.

Evidently, no one in Beauxbatons was happy judging by the scowl on Fleur's face.

“He knows nothing,” Tireur answered the potential question before Fleur could say anything.

“As I told you he would,” Fleur muttered darkly.

Using his Battle class instincts, Blaise tried to assess the situation. Judging by the
familiarity with which Fleur and Tireur addressed the situation, they obviously had been working
together prior to this meeting. Fleur looked displeased even to be in the room, while Tireur had
reclaimed that mocking grin that so often adorned his long face. She must be working with him
reluctantly. That could be used to Blaise's advantage.

“What do we do now?” Fleur asked. Blaise was surprised at her deference Tireur. From what little
he knew of her, she did not seem the type to accept a secondary role.

Tireur fixed his gaze on Blaise.

“We use the one asset we have.”

Sweat broke out over Blaise's head despite the cool touch of spring air. He felt like a cow
slowly being led to slaughter, after having been milked dry. It was a mistake to ever go to Tireur.
Harry might have scared him, but at least he knew Harry's limits. Blaise had seen exactly how
far Harry could be pushed. He could not say the same of Tireur.

But Fleur…

The ugly scowl disrupted her natural beauty, and Blaise concluded she was uncomfortable with the
situation. Furthermore, why were Tireur and Fleur not bothering to conceal their partnership? From
the first and second years he paid, they were public rivals. Why now? Why were they letting him
hear their plots and plans?

So Blaise pressed the one advantage he had.

“He does have feelings for Fleur,” Blaise whispered ever so slightly as if not to disturb the
air around them.

Fleur immediately strode over to Blaise. She was taller than most women and towered above the
seated Slytherin. The Veela leaned over him, her blonde tresses floating around her head in perfect
harmony.

“I knew you were a despicable traitor, but this is low, even for you, Zabini,” she whispered,
her words freezing the air around them.

“He does have a point though,” Tireur mused as he resumed his pacing.

“*Sûrtout merde*.” Fleur continued maintaining eye contact with Blaise. The Slytherin
gulped, trying to keep his Adam's apple from bobbing excessively. She said, “He is lying. I
tried that. Potter rejected me.”

That was news to Blaise, even as it exposed his lie. Instinctively, he sat a little straighter.
That motion did not go unnoticed by the French girl. She narrowed her eyes even further so all
Blaise could see were her blue irises. Hell hath no fury like a scorned Veela. She looked like she
wanted to tear him, or Potter, apart.

“I still can't believe that,” Tireur muttered. “Has his cock gone missing?”

“No,” Fleur answered. “I don't want any more questions on this.”

Tireur chuckled, but he did as she commanded and did not pursue the issue. Fleur cocked her
head, still leaning over Blaise like he was some sort of prey. She pursed her lips and the lights
grew dimmer around him. Blaise made a show of looking around, trying to avoid those icy blue
eyes.

“*Intéressant*,” Fleur murmured. “Very interesting.”

“You know what I find interesting?” Blaise rhetorically asked, desperate to get Fleur away from
him. “I still don't understand why you two are hell bent on beating Potter.”

Tireur was surprisingly forward. “We have orders.”

Fleur rounded on him. “Karim! *Nous ne sommes pas censés parler du directeur!”*

Blaise did not need to know French to know who the *directeur* was.

Tireur shrugged. “What does it matter? Everyone doubtlessly knows we're trying to defeat
Potter. So the Slytherin knows. What of it? He knows plenty already. I do not care if he tells
anyone.”

“Karim,” Fleur hissed loudly, her hand twitching for her wand.

Tireur did not look bothered as he resumed pacing around the room, his strides long and
purposeful.

“Wait. You have orders?” The gears churned in Blaise's mind. He had heard those words
before. It was an echo of a memory - something on the tip of his tongue.

“We were told to challenge Potter. What of it? I assumed it was because he was their most
dangerous player, but that would be a testament of Hogwarts' weakness that a Fourth-Year runt
is one of their best duelists,” Karim continued to talk, seemingly unafraid of divulging this
information.

Fleur looked defeated, but made no serious attempts to stop him. She settled herself onto the
stretched chaise, her eyes still lingering over Blaise. The latter was too busy to notice her gaze.
Could it be? Could all this be yet another test from Snape? Blaise would not put it beyond the
headmaster, but surely they could not have received orders from him.

“These orders...who did they come from?” Blaise asked haltingly.

Tireur and Fleur exchanged a glance.

“Why are you interested?” Fleur asked.

Blaise hesitated, then dove in. “It wasn't Professor Snape, was it?”

Tireur scoffed loudly. “Why would his own headmaster want to give orders to challenge his prized
pupil?”

Blaise was shocked. They did not know. Furthermore, Snape must have used Madame Maxime as a
proxy to continue putting Harry against extreme odds. Could the headmaster really have that much
influence? His mother had always told him that Snape had not been born of a proud Pureblood family,
but perhaps her own prejudices were blinding her. If Snape could convince headmasters from other
schools, like Madame Maxime, to challenge Harry, how much influence did the headmaster really
have?

The lights were no longer dancing around them. Each light hovered over the trio in the carriage,
illuminating their persons and keeping the rest of the room in the dark.

“They don't know,” Blaise whispered to himself. He suddenly sat up, his back ramrod
straight.

“I'll find out what the third task is for you,” Blaise said.

Brown and blue eyes snapped towards him. Tireur wore a predatory grin while Fleur's eyes
glimmered with suspicion. They were both naturally skeptical of his change in demeanor.

“And why is that?” Tireur had to ask.

*This is a trap. Another elaborate trap laid out by Snape and they don't even know
it.*

Yet, he said nothing. Some people deserved to suffer for the roles they played, himself
included. But today was not the day for Blaise Zabini. Today - others would be the tools for
Snape's meddling.

Blaise finally answered.

“You can't let Harry win.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Hermione closed her eyes, her deep breaths filling her lungs with air. She exhaled, the wet air
brushing against her lips. She repeated the process thrice, feeling every drop of moisture
collecting along her bottom teeth. Try as she might, Hermione could not expel the feeling of
disgust.

“Hermione?” Luna chirped up, breaking Hermione's reverie. “I asked if you thought that was a
good idea.”

*The nerve of this girl*, the voice said.

“What was a good idea?” Hermione snapped back.

“What did you think of using a very thin piece of glass?”

The table stretched between them, containing a project that had made little progress. Neither
Hermione nor Luna could devise anything to reflect the images onto the board. No matter what type
of glass they used, the image always bent or refracted in an unusable manner. Their results had
shimmered and shaken until the figures were no longer recognizable. At best they had replicated the
initial process that captured the image.

“That would just degrade the quality,” Hermione said. “I thought we already tested it out with
fiberglass?”

“I brought a different type of glass this time.”

Luna reached into her bag and gingerly extracted a nearly translucent shard of glass. It was
razor thin, almost invisible to the human eye. Luna levitated the shard until it was positioned
between the crystal and the board. The Ravenclaw girl nodded at Hermione.

Another crystal already hung from the cave's rough ceiling. The crystal was attached to a
slim and circular piece of metal. Hermione tapped the metal and whispered, “*Sonos.*”

Months ago, Luna had realized that two crystals could be linked with a Mirroring Charm. When
applied correctly, the charm also displayed the image from the source crystal. The problem was that
Mirroring Charms were obviously designed for mirrors. Hermione had to modify the charm to absorb
all of the images obtained by the crystal. Thus, they had created the base disc. When Hermione
applied the Reverberation Charm to the disc, the crystal acted as a flashpoint. It would take a
snapshot of the current room and then send that image to the destination crystal.

Ordinarily, the destination crystal would spit the image out in a hundred different directions.
Luna, showing more ingenuity, enclosed the destination crystal in a metal tube. Tapping her
unexpected expertise in runes, Luna applied a simple Funneling Rune ordinarily used to direct water
in drainage pipes. The result was a crystalline image displayed through the open end of the tube.
Their previous problem was that the image could only be seen through a glass lens.

The source crystal hummed immediately, once Hermione tapped the metal. A bright flash surrounded
the destination crystal and Hermione was suddenly looking at a near carbon replica of herself on
the board. The image thrown through the destination crystal refracted through the near transparent
shard of glass that Luna had brought, converting the previously scrambled display into a near
perfect hologram.

“Wow.”

The board captured every facet of the cave. The stalactite-strewn ceiling. The uneven floor. The
shimmering water of the small pond. Hermione waved her arm through the air and watched her
counterpart on the board mimic the motion. A smile broke over her face.

“What type of glass is that?” Hermione asked, leaning closer to inspect the razor thin
reflector.

“It's called heavy metal fluoride glass. It's essentially the same concept as the
fiberglass that we tried last month. It acts as more of a transmitter than a reflection. That's
why the image is so clear. Once we master the Naming Charm, we can even have everyone's name
listed with their image,” Luna explained with a dreamy smile on her face.

“What are the drawbacks?”

The smile faltered on Luna's face. “It's expensive. I had to order it from an apothecary
in Germany. It's also brittle and highly susceptible to acids.”

“How much did it cost?” Hermione continued to interrogate her.

Luna took off her wide lens glasses and rubbed the bridge of her pointed nose. “A glass of that
surface area cost two Galleons.”

“Two?!” Hermione exclaimed, noting that the shard of fluoride glass couldn't have been any
bigger than ten by ten centimeters. “We'll never afford enough to capture all of Hogwarts. The
crystals were already three Sickles each. I don't think in the three more years I'm here we
could afford all of that.”

“You're right,” Luna said. “We can't. We, as in you and I, can't. But we do have one
other partner…”

*Harry. Does that pompous jerk have to be the answer for everything?* The voice
growled.

Hermione had to laugh. Of course, they couldn't do it without Harry. No one could do
anything in this school without Harry. She tried to swallow the bitterness, but that proved a
difficult task. Try as they might, Harry's gravitational pull was inescapable.

“I can ask him,” Hermione conceded as she walked around the board, admiring their work.

She paused and lingered on Luna's glasses. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione spotted a
strange coloring surrounding the board. The Gryffindor picked up the Ravenclaw's glasses and
donned the ocular lens.

“Hermione, wait!” Luna jumped up uncharacteristic urgency.

The world *was* different through another's eyes. More specifically, it was very
different through Luna's glasses. A blue shimmer surrounded the board, a light refraction
bending the navy tint into different color palettes. Hermione looked right at Luna and found a
golden hue covering the Ravenclaw girl. Blue, gold, red, and white covered the cave. A different
color highlighted any object with any sort of magical presence.

“An Identification Charm on your glasses,” Hermione murmured. “Smart - but difficult to
maintain.”

*Clever girl. She could be useful for us…*

Hermione shook her head vigorously, trying to force the voice out of her head.

“It's not a Charm,” Luna corrected her. “The lenses are enchanted to read magical
signatures. The spell isn't perfect, but it's enough at least to detect them. I'm still
working on identifying each color.”

Hermione turned her gaze to Luna and found a red shimmer around the bottlecap necklaces the
Ravenclaw girl often wore. Leaning closer, Hermione tapped one of the bottlecaps and asked, “And
these?”

Luna gingerly removed one of the bottlecaps and threw it into the air, whispering a phrase as
the metallic cap left her hand. It spun in the air, end over end, the silver bottom catching the
light seeping through the lake above. It whistled through the air, an F sharp if Hermione was
correct, and crashed against the ground. As soon as the bottlecap hit the cave floor, a bright
flash blinded them.

The cap transfigured into a large, circular shield. A golden eagle was emblazoned in the center
of the bronze circle. Hermione noted that the shield emitted a golden hue through Luna's
glasses. Magic was far more beautiful through Luna's glasses.

*“**Stupefy!”*

The blue bleam streaked through the air and collided against the shield. The eagle-adorned
shield vanished in a wisp of smoke as soon as the Stunner struck the target.

“It only works for one spell, but I managed to create a ward that holds one instance of the
*Protego* charm,” Luna explained. “I'm working on creating a more permanent version of
it.”

Hermione was rarely impressed. Perhaps due to her own high intelligence. She always thought
ahead, trying to master the permutations and possibilities of all scenarios. Hermione didn't
always have an answer to every possible question, but had always thought she was difficult to
deceive.

Luna had been hiding her talents in plain sight all along.

Behind her deceptive image of an absent-minded girl, Luna managed to fly under the radar of all
the professors. In reality, the Ravenclaw had created several inventions that were highly original
and useful battlefield weapons.

“Why don't you show this more, Luna? The professors would be impressed with what you
created. Wards. Artefacts. Charms applied to objects. These aren't easy. Any one of us can cast
a shield, but it requires some advanced craftsmanship for an object to hold a *Protego.*”

Luna ineffectually shrugged. “Harry told me not to be afraid, but not all of us can be Harry.
Some of us have to work on defending ourselves in different ways - ways that aren't so
obvious.”

“You could have still let the teachers know.”

Luna looked up at Hermione with her big, blue eyes. “You know as well as I do that not all
teachers can be trusted.”

Hermione caught Luna with a searching look. Were the glasses and the bottlecaps only scraping
the surface? What else might Luna know? The Ravenclaw had always been difficult to read. The
Gryffindor removed Luna's enchanted glasses, the world returning to a much duller spectrum.
Luna plucked the glasses off Hermione's hands and returned to them their rightful place on the
bridge of her nose.

Luna began talking again in a halting manner. “I noticed...as well...a change in you
recently.”

Hermione froze, an icy trickle running down her spine. The air seemed colder, the frigid grasp
of winter suddenly returning. Her hand gripped the vine wood of her wand tightly. Her heart thudded
against her chest, roaring loudly in the suddenly quiet cave.

*She's perceptive, this one. Definitely one to keep an eye on. She could be used in just
the right way...*

“Do you want to tell me what you've done?” Luna asked, her face quizzical yet non
judgemental.

The glasses were still perched on her nose, and the eyes behind them were wide as saucers.
Hermione felt as if Luna were looking straight through her. An uneasy fear gripped Hermione's
spine, twisting and tormenting her body.

Hermione pondered Luna's question. She had told absolutely no one about the magic performed
in the cave that night. Truthfully, she hadn't even known if the spell would work. She had
spent so much time researching a spell to amplify her magic, yet not render her insane. Hermione
had snuck into the Restricted section of the Library time and time again, identifying and disabling
the wards that prevented access by non-authorized students.

It was all for naught.

The voice. The indeterminate voice who whispered suggestions and ideas. Ideas that should never
be repeated. Hermione had to practice Occlumency actively to shut the voice out, but she could
never hold it back for long. She should have known. She should have known better than to dabble.
Harry spoke often of what it would take to win, but Hermione had never understood what he truly
meant...until now.

“How can you tell the difference in me?” Hermione asked without meeting Luna's eyes.

Luna tapped her glasses with her wand. “Everyone gives off a color. I don't know what they
mean. I've yet to find a discernible trait that associates with a color. Harry is bright red
and black, but so is Draco Malfoy. Cedric Diggory is a dull green, yet Ron Weasley is also a dull
green. You were always a dark blue until a few weeks ago. That's when I noticed the silver and
black mixed in with your colors. I don't know what they mean, but I know something has
changed.”

Hermione closed her eyes. If Luna could see the change, who else could? Then again, who else
would have thought of an Identification Charm crafted onto a pair of glasses? Did Snape know?
Hermione felt foolish, but she had yet to find a counter-curse for the spell. It was supposed to be
temporary, but the book had never defined the length of this *temporary* spell.

*Say nothing.*

“I can't tell you,” Hermione said quietly.

Luna pursed her lips. “Is there anyone you can tell?”

*Cedric,* Hermione thought. *I should tell Cedric.*

But Hermione knew he was unlikely to understand. Part of what attracted Hermione to the
Hufflepuff was his unwavering stance against immoral actions. That didn't mean Cedric was above
finding advantages, but he had a strict moral compass. Hermione had no doubt that performing dark
rituals would be something Cedric would condone.

*Neville?*

Truth be told, Hermione had been drifting away from Neville. His duel against Harry last year
had brought into light his potential feelings for her, and she had deliberately distanced herself
from the bumbling boy to avoid leading him on. Plus, her relationship with Cedric had seemingly
cooled his feelings. Still, Neville was a genuine boy, and he would undoubtedly judge her
actions.

*Harry.*

Harry would understand. Perhaps he would not condone her actions, but he would understand why
she did what she did. Harry always understood Hermione's actions even if he did not agree with
her. Her thoughts drifted to nearly a year ago in the same cave she stood now. She had convinced
Harry to stay his execution of Justin, but would she be able to do the same now? Had her pursuit
for greatness driven her to madness?

The whimsiness floated back into Luna's voice as she spoke. “Is
this...change...reversible?”

Hermione replied, “It's supposed to fade over time.”

“How much time?” Luna countered.

This time, the voice answered the question.

*Time enough to accomplish our goals.*

Hermione stilled, recreating her mental shields. Visualization was key to her competency in
Occlumency, but it also required a calmness she currently did not possess. She had read of rituals
and dark arts that bespoke of such voices, but Hermione knew the more common Muggle diagnosis of
hearing voices.

Paranoia. Schizophrenia. Insanity.

“Hermione?” Luna tentatively asked, her voice a soft whisper.

*Don't tell her,* the voice urged.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione fought back.

“The spell is *Tenebris Atro*…”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Blaise trotted back to the Slytherin Common Room, his eyes sharp and attentive to any strangers
lurking in the darkened corners. This attention to detail allowed him to spy a figure waiting in
the cross section between the first floor and the staircase to the dungeons.

“Justin. How unpleasant to find you here,” Blaise said, wanting nothing more than to sidestep
the Hufflepuff and be on his merry way. Justin had other plans.

“We need to talk,” Justin demanded.

For someone who was not viewed as one of the more skilled performers in Hogwarts Battle School,
Blaise found himself oddly in demand.

“Not now, Justin.” Blaise tried to push by him, but Justin's arm flew out and planted a hand
against the wall, barring any future progress. Blaise looked down his nose at the Hufflepuff,
trying to gather the most Malfoy-like sneer on his face. He must have failed miserably at that.
Justin might have been shorter, but he was far more muscled, even at fourteen.

“It's about Potter.”

*Speak of the devil and he shall appear*, Blaise thought - remembering a quote his mother
would often repeat.

“What about him?”

Justin took a step back, implicitly dragging Blaise further away from the lights and into the
shadow. Blaise tentatively stepped forward, one more step away from the Common Room. He felt for
his wand in his robes and cursed his lack of a wand holster. Most students were issued one, but
Blaise had never enjoyed the leather stuck against his skin.

“He came to me the other night asking for my help,” Justin started. “He wanted to bring you
down.”

“That's not news to me,” Blaise said, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “If
that's the case, what are you doing talking to me?”

Justin's eyes glittered in the dark. The Hufflepuff snorted and said, “Potter is a lot of
things, but he is not as clever as he thinks he is. Some of it has gone to his head.”

Blaise listened but only passively. His eyes tracked Justin's every movement, watching for
any surprises. Despite the situation, Justin appeared relaxed and non-confrontational. His posture
was slightly slumped and his movements were minimal - not the jittery ticks of a nervous would-be
attacker.

It did not take long for Blaise to understand what Justin was trying to say. “So you're here
because you think I can protect you?”

“Protect me?” Justin scoffed. “No, I don't need your protection. I want to bring down
Potter, too.”

“You tried that once. Would you like a repeat of how *that* ended?” Blaise arched an
eyebrow at the Hufflepuff's boldness.

“I'm not afraid to try again.” Justin raised his chin in defiance.

The timing was suspicious. First, Tireur and Fleur admitted to conspiring against Harry on
orders and now Justin was offering to strike against Harry once more. A puzzle formed in
Blaise's mind, but key pieces were missing. A corner piece. An edge piece. Most of all, a
connecting piece right in the middle. What did it all form?

“And what is your marvelous plan this time?”

“Potter actually told me to give you false instruction so he would look favored upon your
mistakes. I was supposed to pass misinformation to you on a change in the Hufflepuff command
structure that would have dictated different responses in Battle class.”

“Clever of him,” Blaise said.

“Yes, but he put too much faith in me. I'll tell him that I fed you bad information. In
exchange, you get to watch him crash and burn in Battle again. Maybe I'll even get the final
hit on him since he won't expect it from me.”

Justin was satisfied with his plan, though Blaise had his doubts. For instance, he doubted Harry
trusted Justin at all. The last interaction he remembered between the two was that dreaded night in
the cave. He could understand Justin still being upset over that night. He could definitely
understand Harry using what happened as blackmail so Justin would do his bidding. Still, Blaise
knew something was amiss. He just couldn't place his finger on it.

“What's it going to be?” Justin asked.

Blaise doubted many people would understand why he was involved in these traitorous plots. Harry
would shrug it off as petty jealousy. Tireur would assume it was competition. Justin must have
thought it was their rivalry.

In truth, it was none of that.

Blaise feared Harry Potter, the Bringer of Lightning and Dragonkiller. He had heard stories from
his mother of the rise of one Dark Lord. Perhaps the rest of Slytherin was blind to what they were
creating. Perhaps Snape had grown too fond of his experiments on Harry to see the big picture.
Harry Potter, unchecked, was not a box Blaise was willing to open. If Harry could somehow lose a
few more battles, maybe he would settle for above average instead of hyperactively chasing
perfection. Perfection was a troublesome path, ultimately destroying those who chose pursuit of it.
Perfection was an unrealistic goal, a height that could never be reached despite all attempts to do
so. Perfection was torture, a fleeting reprieve against the agony of mistakes.

They wanted Harry to be perfect.

Did they not realize it was impossible?

“I'll do it. Let's win.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

**Projected update time: 30 days**
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