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The many Deaths of Harry Potter by ShayneT

Books » Harry Potter Rated: T, English, Harry P., Hermione G., Words: 242k+, Favs: 6k+, Follows: 4k+, Published: Mar 2, 2017 Updated: Jun 15, 2017 3,851Chapter 47: Dance

There was obviously only one person he could ask to the ball; the question was whether or not she already had a date. Harry had seen how some of the other boys had been looking at her since she'd changed her teeth and he suspected she wouldn't go long without finding someone.

"Hey, Hermione," he said catching up to her in the hallway. "Can I talk to you?"

He'd never felt awkward talking to her before; the truth was he'd never felt particularly awkward talking to anyone. Staying alive was much more important than worrying about what people thought, and he'd spent enough time having people look down on him that it shouldn't have mattered.

Somehow it did, this time.

"Yes?"

Harry stared at her for a moment, unable to speak. He looked around to see if anyone else was listening, but it didn't look like anyone was.

"I've got something I want to show you," he said, feeling suddenly inspired. He'd been planning to show her and Neville the room for some time and this would make it easier to ask her.

"All right...now?" she asked.

He nodded. It made him a little uneasy just how easily she followed him. He'd read about Polyjuice potion and human transfiguration and it would be very easy for someone to lure her away to capture her.

She was one of the very few people that he cared about; he didn't have many friends, although he was slowly developing alliances.

Leading her up to the seventh floor, he checked to make sure than no one was looking, and then he paced in front of the Room three times, concentrating hard.

She gasped a little when the door to the room opened in front of them. He gestured for her to enter, and as she did the door vanished behind him.

"The castle has a swimming pool?" she gasped.

Harry had been experimenting with the room to see the limits of what it could do. He'd discovered that the room was limited by his imagination, and he was limited by the things he'd seen or read about. Fortunately he'd seen a swimming pool before during Harry hunts when he'd gone over fences to hide from Dudley and his friends.

The fact that there was a suburban house behind the pool and a blue sky over them didn't seem to register. When it did, she said, "Have we left Hogwarts?"

Harry shook his head. "It's the room. It can be anything you imagine when you walk in front of the door."

"And you imagined a rather poorly maintained swimming pool?" Hermione asked skeptically.

There was a green film over the surface, but Harry hadn't been sure if that wasn't something that was supposed to be there or not.

"I only saw one pool once," Harry said apologetically.

Hermione stared at him for a moment then shook her head. "Show me how it works."

He led her outside again, and coached her how to use the room. She walked back and fourth three times, and when the door opened they stepped into a rather normal muggle bedroom. It had a bed, a desk, two bookcases, a nightstand, a noticeboard, and framed wall hangings and a chair.

Hermione was staring at the notes on the noteboard. "They even got the notes right."

"I think it reads your mind and uses that to create whatever's in here," Harry said. "I'm thinking I might want to go experience some things with Sirius so I can imagine things that are a little more useful."

Hermione sat on the bed. "Why are you showing me this now?"

"Does there have to be a reason?"

"You always have a reason for everything you do. Either you need me to do something, or you are trying to butter me up for something."

Harry forced a smile. "Am I that bad a friend?"

"You're loyal," Hermione said. "And I think you'd protect me, but you haven't exactly been the easiest person to get to know."

"You know me better than anyone here," Harry said. "Even Neville, and he knows me pretty well."

Hermione looked up at him. "What do you want."

Harry coughed. "Um...you know this Yule ball thing...they're making the champions do the first dance."

"You want me to teach you to dance?" Hermione asked. "I can do that, but I thought McGonagall was going to teach everyone later."

Harry flushed. "That's not it...not really. You see, the thing is, I need someone to dance with, someone I can trust."

Hermione was silent for a long moment. "Are you asking me to go with you to the dance?"

She didn't sound as excited as he'd hoped.

"Yeah, I guess I am."

"It's not exactly a romantic proposal, is it?" she asked. "You know I've had several boys getting ready to ask me out...even Viktor Krum has been coming around."

"Krum!" Harry said, stiffening. "You can't go out with Krum! Karkarov is a former Death Eater, and there's a chance that Krum might be working with him!"

Hermione looked at him, and for once there was a look of disdain on her face.

"At least Krum wouldn't be going out with me because it's convenient," Hermione said. She sniffed. "In the past three and a half years you haven't noticed me once as a girl."

"I can't afford to," Harry said.

Hermione froze. "What?"

"I can't afford to notice you as a girl," he said. "Or anyone really."

Silence, at first a few seconds and then longer. Hermione stared at him and frowned.

"If you say it's because it'll put me in danger, I'm going to hit you."

"What? No! Just being my friend puts you in danger," Harry said. "Dating me might make it a little worse, but a lot of people think we're dating anyway."

"Then why can't you notice me as a girl?"

Harry stared at the floor. "Because I'm the one that it'll put in danger. You've seen what they're like, the couples. They fall in love and they get stupid. They can't think about anybody but the other person."

He'd seen it happen even to Slytherins who should have known better. They lost all sense of who they had previously been and they gave everything to the other person. It required a level of trust that left them open to being terribly hurt when it inevitably fell apart.

Some of them did it over and over, convinced every time that the next time would be different.

"You're a damaged person," Hermione said.

That should have been obvious to her a long time ago, Harry thought, even if she didn't know about the deaths and the resets.

He forced himself to smile."I'm a damaged person who needs a dance partner."

She shook her head. "I want better than to be the easiest choice. I'm still your friend, but I won't be going to the dance with you."

Standing up, she headed for the door. Stopping, she said, "Thanks for showing me the room, though."

He was left alone in Hermione Granger's room, mulling over the nature of women.

"And why should I go out wiz a little boy like you?" Fleur asked.

If he wasn't able to go with Herrmione, he might as well shoot for the other target every boy in school was after. He'd actually cared what Hermione had to say, but he didn't particularly care who else he took.

Besides, he'd made a bet with Malfoy that he would.

"Because I'm good with my wand?"

Malfoy was watching them from a distance, close enough to hear what was being said but far enough away to be unobtrusive. They were in the library and for once there weren't many other students around. For some reason Malfoy dropped his book when Harry made his comment and he looked as though he was trying not to laugh.

Fleur flushed, which made her look even more beautiful than she normally did. "While it is try that there ees much to admire about how you...handle your wand, it is not the only thing one looks for in a dance partner."

Shrugging Harry said, "What else do you want? I'm a quick learner, I'm ambitious and I'm occasionally funny."

Most of the people who thought Harry was funny didn't realize that he was perfectly serious about the paranoid things he was saying. Still, it might be a good selling point.

"Many handsome boys have asked me to the dance," she said.

"Do any of them know what it's like to face a dragon?" he asked. "I do. We're both champions and that'll give us plenty to talk about."

She stared at him appraisingly before finally nodding. "If you learn to dance I'll go with you."

Behind them, Malfoy knocked over a whole shelf of books. Harry grinned at him.

The nice thing about Fleur was that living in another country she wouldn't likely be targeted by Death Eaters. Everyone would know that the dance was simply a temporary thing of convenience. Also, as a half-human, she'd have been on the list of those the Death Eater's hated, and so she wouldn't be any worse off for dancing with him.

The last thing he wanted was to dance with someone and then find them dead the next day. It had been selfish of him to ask Hermione in the first place. This was much better.

Besides, Fleur smelled surprisingly nice from close up.

The Room of Requirement proved to be useful in more ways than Harry had expected.

Dancing with McGonagall was embarrassing and wasn't particularly educational, especially considering that the teachers seemed to think that a single session would be enough to teach them everything they knew to represent the school.

Fortunately, Neville turned out to be an expert dancer, and better yet, he had memories of ballrooms which the room could use to create places to dance. Apparently his grandmother had told him that alliances were made on the dance floor, and with the Wizarding world under constant threat he might need to make alliances.

She'd gotten him lessons from a young age, lessons which he was more than happy to share.

Dancing with Neville was almost as awkward as dancing with McGonagall, but at least it wasn't in front of the judging eyes of all his classmates.

It was strange; normally Harry didn't care what people thought of him. He'd been bullied enough and faced enough negativity from people that he was willing to stand up to anyone. However, he was confident in his own skills in most areas of his life. Put him in front of a Death Eater or a raging basilisk and he knew what to do.

This, however, left him feeling uncertain, and he hated that feeling. What would Fleur think of him? What would Hermione think of him dancing with Fleur? He found himself worrying about these things and it was distracting him from the truly important matters of who was planning to kill him.

Adding to everything was the stress of learning that Dobby had been working at Hogwarts for several months. Although Harry tended to like House Elves in general, he still remembered being hit with a bludger and he regarded the house elf as being more than a little unstable.

The house elf had even taken to wearing a jumper with a Slytherin crest on it; Harry suspected it was in honor of him, although it was possible that he'd simply gotten someone to shrink some preexisting clothes.

Despite being light on his feet, dancing simply didn't come natural to Harry, and he worried that he would not be able to perform adequately for Fleur.

Before he knew it, the day arrived.

She was radiant.

Harry knew the moment that she stepped out onto the top of the stairs that he should have worked harder to convince Hermione to stay and be his date for the evening.

The fact that she was beautiful was something that had always been on the periphery of her mind; mostly it was easy to not think about because of her teeth and the vast mane of bushy hair that covered her.

Now her teeth were a normal size and she'd done something to her hair, pulling it up in a complicated bun. She was wearing a dress of periwinkle blue, and she'd bothered to put on makeup. She was smiling, something that she rarely did, but it made her face light up in a way that made his heart ache a little.

Why hadn't he bothered to put a smile like that on her face more often?

She was breathtaking, and seeing her hurt his heart a little, even though the date next to him was brilliantly beautiful in her own way.

"Harry!" Hermione said.

Harry forced himself to smile. He glanced at Fleur, who was looking at Hermione with a calculating look in her eyes.

"You look amazing," Harry said as Hermione reached him.

She smiled again, this time a little less nervously. "Have you seen Viktor?"

"He's over there," Harry nodded in the direction of the Durmstrang students, who were still huddled together.

Nodding gratefully, she headed over in his direction.

"You have a theeng for her?" Fleur asked, leaning close and speaking softly in his ear. Despite himself, Harry found himself able to focus on nothing but how soft she was and how amazing she smelled.

"No...but she's my best friend," he said. Realizing suddenly that this was more than he wanted to admit to anyone, he said, "I'd kill anyone who hurt her."

Fleur smiled, although it didn't reach her eyes. "Ze others would zink you were exxagerating. But after seeing 'at you did to ze dragon..."

Harry shrugged. "It's never going to be particularly popular as a way of killing dangerous beasts...by the time you are close enough to throw food in, it's generally too late."

Also, it took far too long to kill, at least a large beast. Killing something after it had eaten and swallowed you was worthless. Plus, he'd had to pre-prepare the peanut butter, and it had been a hellishly difficult spell to cast. It had taken him almost three days to get it right, and he still wasn't sure if he'd be able to replicate it.

Fortunately, he hadn't used all of the peanut butter.

She looked around. "Zis is nothing 'oo know. At Beauxbatons zey have ice sculputures zat sing while 'e dance by ze moonlight."

"I'd love to see it," Harry said.

He really would; the only way he'd have time was if he'd actually destroyed Voldemort and his men. Visiting Beauxbatons would be a sign that he had done what he'd set out to do and that he had the luxury of time...time to visit friends, time to go on vacation...time to relax.

For some reason she flushed slightly, a sight he found more enticing than he should have.

"Champions, gather round!" McGonagall said.

Harry took Fleur's hand in his and gingerly put his hand around her waist. He'd been morbidly uncomfortable doing that to McGonagall, and equally so with Neville, but this was surprisingly pleasant.

The music started, a slow and mournful tune by the Weird Sisters.

At first Harry concentrated on not tripping, and on the movements of his feet, but feeling Fleur's eyes on him, it grew a little easier. He became excruciatingly aware of her hand in his, and of his hand on her waist. It was as though the entire universe focused on those two spots.

By the end of the song he felt flushed, and not because of the exertion.

He was glad he'd practiced. If he'd only done the single perfunctory dance with McGonagall, he'd have undoubtedly quit after the first dance. But he could see the eyes of everyone on him.

The boys were judging him, because he was with the date that they'd all secretly wanted to have. The girls were measuring him, comparing him to their own dates.

Harry couldn't help but feel a slight sense of malicious pleasure at the fact that the girls with some of the boys who's bullied him in his first life during first year looked as though Harry was coming out in comparison.

Seeing Hermione dancing by with Krum, though, Harry felt as though he was the one who paled by comparison. She danced like a dream, spinning and moving like dancing was the most natural thing in the world for her.

"Darkness powder, Potter?" Moody asked as he stumped past, somehow managing to dance with one of the teachers. He was looking at him with his artificial eye. "And peanut butter?"

"I might get peckish," Harry grinned.

He'd have to figure out some way to get around Moody's eye, because if Moody had one there was a chance that some Death Eater had something similar somewhere.

Fleur shivered in his arms and it felt particularly delightful. "Zat eye of 'is should be outlawed."

Harry thought about it. Being able to see under the clothes of everyone, including teenage girls might seem a little perverse.

"I suppose if you see everybody naked all the time it stops being special," Harry said. "Kind of like having cake for every meal. Eventually you just start wanting a salad."

She sniffed. "I am not cake."

"A souffle maybe?" Harry asked. At her expression he said "I don't know anything about French cooking. Something sweet but strong maybe?"

Her expression changed; he saw the beginning of a genuine smile; it made her face light up in a way that was painful in a different way than Hermione's had been.

"You zink I am strong?"

"You volunteered for this, knowing what you were getting into. That's stronger than most of the boys I know...and even most of the male wizards."

Foolish as much as strong, but Harry didn't say that.

They had worked their way to the edge of the dance floor, and were now on the sidelines. Harry was grateful; he felt sweaty and a little sticky.

"Would you like to step outside?" Fleur asked.

Harry nodded. As cool as it was outside he'd feel much better shortly. Looking at Fleur, he didn't understand the expression on her face.

It was probably better to pretend that he did, though.

"Let's go," he said.

They worked their way outside the entrance hall and they stepped outside. The cool air felt good on Harry's overheated skin, and he took a deep breath.

"Per'aps ze rose garden?" Fleur asked.

Harry nodded. The rose garden had been changed, filled with flickering fairie lights. It had winding paths, ornamental statues, and the occasional stone bench, which is where Fleur led him now.

"I zought you were a leetle boy," she said. "But I was wrong."

Harry forced himself to smile. She was sitting close to him; closer than was comfortable actually. Ordinarily he would have found an excuse to get up, to move away, to keep himself out of the possible grip of someone who could trap his wand arm.

Now, though, for some reason he didn't mind.

She was leaning closer to him, and he didn't know what was going to happen exactly, but he couldn't look away from her lips.

"I..." he began.

Harry felt a hand on his shoulder and he instantly went for his wand. He had it pointed at the person behind him before he even registered who it was.

"Sirius!"

"Harry!" Sirius said. He was grinning. "Big news...that thing I was working on...we rounded up forty Death Eaters tonight...fifteen of them are dead. That's almost ten percent of Voldemort's inner circle."

At Harry's speechlessness, he said "We've got them on the run!"

Harry was silent for a long moment, trying to process what Sirius was saying. He'd spent most of the time since his first death envisioning the Death Eaters as a faceless, unbeatable enemy. The thought that they could be defeated en masse was mind-blowing.

Sirius suddenly seemed to realize that Harry wasn't alone.

"Did I interrupt something?"

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The many Deaths of Harry Potter by ShayneT

Books » Harry Potter Rated: T, English, Harry P., Hermione G., Words: 242k+, Favs: 6k+, Follows: 4k+, Published: Mar 2, 2017 Updated: Jun 15, 2017 3,851Chapter 48: Lake

Scrimgeour trumpeted the arrests of twenty five Death Eaters and the deaths of fifteen more as though he'd accomplished them all himself. For the next week, all anyone could talk about was the arrests and the fear that Voldemort's organization would retaliate.

It drew attention away from the Triwizard tournament in a way that nothing else could. Every page of the Daily Prophet had articles about the Death Eaters who'd been captured and speculation about what was going to happen in the future.

Apparently, current estimates were that Voldemort had approximately four hundred Death Eaters, but that he had a larger number of people who were affiliated with his organization without being trusted enough to be actual members. How anyone knew that Harry didn't know; he would have thought if they were close enough to take count that they'd be close enough to do something about them.

While ten percent of Voldemort's people was a lot, it didn't seem like a crippling blow to Harry. None of Voldemort's true inner circle...his most trusted lieutenants had been caught. Some were still in Azkaban, but the others were still out in the world directing the low level skirmishes that chipped away at the Ministry.

Everyone acted like Voldemort had practically been defeated, an attitude that Harry didn't understand at all. There was a celebratory mood among three of the four houses of Hogwarts, and even his own house was simply quiet about the matter.

The Slytherins were smart enough not to celebrate however. Many of them had relatives who were Death Eaters, and those who didn't had classmates who did. More importantly, everyone was waiting for the hammer to come down.

There was a small article about Hagrid being a half-giant, but in the excitement of the other news it was quickly buried. No one took much notice, except for a few unkind comments from other Slytherins. Harry was surprised; he hadn't realized that everyone hadn't know Hagrid was a half-giant. What did they think he was?

It was as obvious as Flitwick being half-goblin. Harry wondered how wizards could be so willfully blind.

Hagrid was missing for a few days, but after seeing that no one seemed to care about his heritage, he re-emerged.

Harry himself kept his head down and didn't say anything one way or the other. He simply tried to go back to having a normal life.

He didn't see Hermione or Neville for the next week; apparently they both went home after the ball. That made it a little easier in a way; Harry still wasn't sure how he felt about Hermione's rejection.

After all, Harry wasn't sure he'd ever be in a position to love anyone. She'd called him damaged, which was appropriate as far as he was concerned. After all, didn't falling in love require a level of trust that Harry wasn't sure he'd ever be able to give anyone?

Even if Voldemort and all his men were dead, Harry had developed habits that would be difficult to overcome. Paranoid thinking kept him alive, but in a post-Voldemort world it would have him jumping at shadows.

Reaching for another book on nonverbal casting, Harry was startled to hear Hermione's voice from behind him.

The fact that she'd been able to sneak up on him was troubling. The fact that she was back shouldn't have been.

"Harry?" Hermione asked.

Looking up at her, Harry forced a smile. "Hello, Hermione."

Her hair was back to its usual frizzy self, but now that he had seen just how beautiful she could be, there was no way he could unsee it. She was no longer just the friend who had happened to be a girl.

Harry was deeply uncomfortable with that, and he wasn't sure what to say.

"Nonverbal casting?" she asked.

"I'm working on nonverbal, wandless transfiguration," Harry said. "It's not going that well."

The rest of the library was empty. Most of the students hadn't returned yet; everyone had felt like celebrating the Ministry coupe with their families.

"Most people wouldn't even try," she said.

She didn't bother to ask why he was trying something that most wizards would think wasn't worth the effort put into it. Wandless spells were weaker than their counterparts, and nonverbal spells were somewhat weaker.

Hermione looked for a moment as though she didn't know what to say, which felt wrong for Harry. She'd never been at a loss for words; if anything she talked a little too much. Now, though she looked as though she was struggling to figure out what she wanted to say.

The fact that Harry himself suddenly had no idea what to say to her was equally troubling. He'd never had to worry about what he said around Hermione. It was one of the things he'd always valued about her. When he was a first year being judged by everyone, Hermione had been there to keep him reasonably sane.

"We need to talk," Hermione said finally.

Harry felt a sudden knot in his stomach. He'd heard Aunt Petunia say those words to Uncle Vernon on rare occasions, and they'd never led to anything good. Typically they preceded an argument which had Harry cowering in his cupboard, happy to have a place to hide.

"O.K.," Harry said reluctantly.

"When I turned you down," Hermione said carefully, "I wasn't in a particularly good place."

Harry stared at her. He had no idea what she was talking about.

"All the other girls were thrilled about the dance...all they could talk about were dresses and makeup and boys."

"I thought you didn't care about any of that."

Hermione flushed a little. "I didn't think so either...but it turns out I did. I listened to them talking and talking and talking, fantasizing about what it would be like to be a princess for just one night...and I wanted that."

"It looks like you got it," Harry said. "I don't think anybody didn't notice you."

He certainly had. He still was, in a way that was actually a little annoying. He knew better than to say anything about that, however. The last thing he wanted to do was damage their friendship any further than he already had.

Sometimes, he almost hoped for a reset, simply so he'd have a chance to avoid this awkwardness he was feeling now.

Her cheeks grew even redder. "I didn't think you noticed."

"Everybody noticed," Harry assured her. "I think you were the most hated girl in the room, at least by the other girls. Even Fleur noticed, and she hardly has anything to worry about in the looks department."

"How have you and Fleur been doing?" Hermione asked quickly. There was an expression on her face that he couldn't decipher.

Harry shrugged. "I've seen her here and there. It was just a dance; nobody was declaring true love or anything."

"Are you sure she feels that way?" Hermione asked.

"I'm sure she was taking mercy on me, accepting," Harry said. "After all, to her I'm still a little boy, no matter how good I am at magic."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Hermione said.

"It's not like I'm the greatest candidate for a boyfriend anyway," Harry said. "I'm scrawny, got a weird scar and I've got a bounty on my head. It makes it a little difficult to go out for an ice cream and a walk around Hogsmeade."

"You shouldn't put yourself down," Hermione said.

"I don't even speak French," Harry said, barely listening.

The few classes he'd had in grammar school didn't count, especially as he hadn't kept up with it. Hogwarts really should have included foreign language classes.

There was a long, awkward silence as they stared at each other. Finally Hermione just said, "I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry."

Harry shook his head. "No...I'm the one who should have said I'm sorry. I never should have asked you. You deserve more than I can afford to give you."

She looked disturbed by that, but there didn't seem to be much more to say.

With things as awkward between them as they were, Harry had to do his own research for the second task. That involved a trip to Hagrid's hut and then multiple visits to the library.

Hagrid seemed extraordinarily grateful that Harry was visiting him, almost as though he expected to be ostracized because of his half-human nature.

The fact that Harry hadn't bothered to visit him after the newspaper article shamed him a little once he realized just how deeply affected Hagrid had been by it. Harry realized that he'd been so self absorbed with his own problems that he'd barely noticed that Hagrid was in pain.

That was another reason that he wasn't good boyfriend material; he was so self absorbed and so self-centered that he barely noticed the people around him. He noticed whether they were useful or not, and a few people broke through that veil but for the most part he didn't care much about anyone.

He wondered for a moment if something hadn't broken within him when Adrian died, or maybe when Colin had. After all, he'd let himself care about them, and then the pain of losing them had been damaging.

Channeling grief into rage would only work for so long, after all. Harry wondered if numbness was one of the stages of grief; he'd vaguely heard that there were stages but he wasn't really sure what they were.

Discovering what he needed to know from Hagrid hadn't been hard. Finding it in the stacks was much more difficult. It wasn't a spell that was used much anymore; there were better spells out there, and wizards had better means of transportation in general.

However, eventually he found the spell and he practiced it, finding it to be easier than he'd thought it would be.

The harder part was learning the transfiguration that he needed for his plan. It didn't have to be pretty; in fact it was almost better that it wasn't. After all, since he suspected that Voldemort wanted him to win this thing, maybe it was better that he didn't.

At the same time he couldn't help but gloat at the thought of Scrimgeour's face at the challenge. The man had been getting far too smug and complacent after the imprisonments.

His appointees to replace the assassinated Wizangamot members had finally been approved, in part because of a rising tide of popularity in the wake of the arrests.

The trials were going well, although none of the Death Eaters had turned evidence in return for reduced sentences. After everything they probably thought that it was safer in a Ministry cell, even in Azkaban rather than what would happen to them if they talked.

Now that the positions were filled, Harry no longer felt any loyalty to Scrimgeour, and he looked forward to tweaking his nose a little.

He only hoped that the rest of the Hogwarts' student body wasn't as angry with him as he suspected they might be.

Harry was one of the first to arrive at the event, early enough to see the Ministry employees setting up massive screens beside the lake.

It took him a moment to recognize the screens; he'd seen them used during the Quidditch World cup. Apparently the Ministry was reusing things in an effort to save funds now that the Triwizard tournament was no longer as important.

"They won't turn those on until the contest begins," Moody said from behind him. "You won't be getting any kind of an advantage by looking."

Harry shrugged. It had surprised him at the Quidditch world cup seeing the screens. If Wizards could create television images, why didn't they have television? They had a magical version of radio, after all.

Maybe it was a cultural thing.

"They'll have split screens," Moody said. "Showing the important parts. That way the crowd won't miss a thing."

Harry shrugged. He'd wondered how a contest where no one could see what was happening would be exciting. It seemed like someone else in the Ministry had had the same thought.

He looked out at the lake. He'd re-examined the lake only the week before, and he had a decent idea where on the surface everything important was. That was going to be critical.

"You ready for this?" Moody asked.

Harry shrugged. "As ready as I can be."

He watched carefully as the chairs were set up and the crowd began straggling in. While there wasn't much he could do about any traps that were set during the challenge itself, he wanted to make sure no one was doing anything suspicious above water.

Aurors were already everywhere, and Harry suspected that they'd have multiple undercover aurors in the crowd as well. After all the second task would be the perfect target for a counterattack. There would be a large crowd of people that no one knew, Ministry officials in the crowd, concerned parents and reporters. It would be the perfect venue to make a statement.

Hermione and Neville finally showed up. Neville waved at him while Hermione gave him an awkward smile.

Harry forced himself not to grimace. He still hadn't gotten over the awkwardness between him and Hermione and he hated it.

Hopefully after the event he'd have a chance to talk to her, assuming he wasn't beaten by the student body of Hogwarts.

He became a little concerned when Dumbledore came and spoke quietly with Hermione and Neville, leading them both away. He could only hope that they'd be back in time for the contest. As an hour passed and they did not return he became increasingly concerned.

Had there been a kidnapping. Had that actually been Dumbledore?

It wasn't until Dumbledore returned and Harry questioned him about it that he was reassured. Apparently they had a task for Dumbledore.

He checked the map secretly before handing it off to one of the twins; it really was Dumbledore he'd been talking to. A quick scan didn't show anyone who shouldn't have been there.

It did show both Hermione and Neville out in the center of the lake, around the location he'd scouted out as being the Mer-village.

Harry scowled. Apparently they hadn't been comfortable taking just one of the people he'd valued. They'd taken two.

The other champions arrived, as did Bagman and Scrimgeour. Scrimgeour smiled genially out at the crowd. His participation was part of the reason for the visible heavy Auror presence, Harry was sure. The fact that protecting him along with the champions and audience members would put a undue strain on the aurors didn't seem to bother him.

"When I blow the whistle," Bagman said. "You will have one hour to recover what has been taken from them."

A moment later, the whistle was blown, and the second task began.

Harry saw Fleur casting the bubble headed charm. She glanced at him, her look something he couldn't quite interpret. He hadn't really talked to her in the month since the Yule Ball, and he had the sense that she was irritated at him.

Krum was doing a complicated spell, transfiguring his own head into that of a shark. That was risky; not the sort of thing Harry would attempt at all unless he absolutely had to. Transfiguring into an animal ran the risk of gaining the mentality of that animal, which would of course make transfiguring back impossible.

Harry wondered how Krum would be able to speak as a shark. Maybe he wouldn't and would depend on his classmates to change him back.

They both plunged into the water.

Harry watched as they vanished out of sight. He stood, stretching.

It was almost five minutes before Bagman and Scrimgeour stalked up to him; apparently they'd been hoping that whatever method he had for going underwater simply took a long period.

"Look," Bagman said. "You've got to get going. We can't start the screens until you're on your way."

"Why not?" Harry asked. "It's not like seeing what's coming will make much of a difference now. Even if it did, the time I'm losing would make it all moot."

Bagman scowled. He stared at Harry and then turned and stalked toward the screens. He argued with the technicians, who did something.

A moment later, they flickered to life. Instead of the promised split screens, they only showed Krum and Fleur, each on their own screen moving powerfully through the water. Krum looked like the better swimmer, but Fleur was doing better than he had expected.

"What are you doing?" Scrimgeour hissed. "You've got the honor of Hogwarts to uphold."

"And your re-election?" Harry asked. Since Scrimgeour hadn't actually been elected, but had been appointed he supposed it was a misnomer.

Scrimgeour's face turned red. "There's a contract...it's magical and binding. You know what happens if you don't compete."

"I'll compete," Harry said. "I just have to stretch a little first."

He made an exaggerated show of stretching, which made Scrimgeour turn even redder. He looked as though he wanted to shout, but a sudden flash of a camera from behind Harry reminded him that they were both in front of an audience.

The contract stated that Harry had to compete. It didn't say that he had to win.

Scrimgeour stalked over to the judges' table where he could be heard whispering at them in a loud voice.

Harry watched as the scene on the screen changed. Krum was now fighting Grindylows and doing very well.

Fleur seemed to be having a lot of trouble though. She was caught in seaweed and was making very little progress in getting free.

The third screen, which presumably was to cover what he was doing was still blank.

Harry could hear a growing, angry muttering behind him. The crowd was confused. What was he doing? Was he not going to compete?

Finally, at the thirty minute mark, Harry decided it was time.

He stood up and walked to the edge of the shore. Reaching down he began gathering mud from the side of the shore into a solid glob.

A moment later he pointed his wand at the glob and spoke the words of the transfiguration spell he'd been working on for more than a week.

The mud morphed and changed, eventually turning into a small boat. It wasn't particularly attractive; it was still the color of mud and it looked crude and rough on the outside. Harry doubted that his grade from McGonagall would have been particularly good.

However, it was seaworthy, which was all he needed.

He pushed the boat out into the water, and then he began casting the second spell. Finding the spell that the school used to propel the boats used to transport first year students to their sorting had been harder than he'd thought, but he'd found it, and he cast it now.

The boat moved silently out through the water, able to move faster than even Krum with his shark head and fins could manage.

Distances were difficult to manage from the surface, but Harry had practiced on multiple occasions. Fortunately they didn't have to be exact.

He cast the bubble headed charm on himself, and he plunged down into the water.

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The many Deaths of Harry Potter by ShayneT

Books » Harry Potter Rated: T, English, Harry P., Hermione G., Words: 242k+, Favs: 6k+, Follows: 4k+, Published: Mar 2, 2017 Updated: Jun 15, 2017 3,851Chapter 49: Merpeople

The water hadn't been this cold the week before, when Harry had last scouted. The bubble head charm did nothing to keep him warm, but fortunately after several trips where he felt so cold he'd almost reset he'd finally discovered a spell that would keep him warm.

He cast it now, and he immediately began to feel better. He wondered if being so cold was part of the reason Fleur was struggling so much with the Grindylows.

As he sank through the silt, visibility dropped.

When he was able to see again, he could see the edge of the merpeople village. His estimate at the surface had been off; he'd intended to land right in the middle.

Harry scowled and shot forward, past the large rock marker that sat at the edge of the town, and among the stone dwellings that sat at the bottom of the lake. The dwellings were crude, but probably served to protect against the giant squid while they slept.

Moving as quietly as he could, Harry slipped through the empty village. He could hear the sounds of the merpeople singing, drawing the champions toward them.

He could see faces at the dark windows. If he'd been a Gryffindor those faces would have been unfamiliar to him, but he'd seen them swimming past the Slytherin common rooms for the last four years, often enough that they almost seemed normal.

Their grayish skin and long green hair, yellow eyes and yellow, broken teeth almost seemed prosaic to Harry. He was careful to avoid being seen by them, however. Given the nature of the first task he wouldn't be surprised if the second was to fight his way through the entire village to get to Hermione and Neville.

He was conscious of the time that was elapsing. Had he spent too much time taunting Scrimgeour? Should he have left earlier?

He reached the buildings at the center of the village. An empty space lay beyond; their version of a village square. A crowd of mermen surrounded the hanging, unconscious forms of Hermione, Neville, and a young child who had to be related to Fleur.

Harry scowled, grabbing for his wand. Someone would pay for doing this; it looked a little too much like some of his nightmares.

After the dragon, Harry suspected that actually killing the merpeople would be frowned upon. Besides, after seeing them swim by for years he didn't feel particularly angry with them. They were doing the Ministry's bidding after all.

Harry swam straight up, then when he was almost to the surface he swam forward. The water was murky enough that they'd have trouble seeing him from this distance. He began to swim downward.

Most humans rarely looked up, but Harry knew that merpeople lived in a three dimensional world. They wouldn't be as oblivious as regular humans.

Some of them were already looking up toward him, and Harry pointed his wand downward. "BOMBARDA!" he cast.

The merpeople were too close to Hermione and Neville for him to cast the spell close to them, and he didn't want to seriously hurt them in any case. But experiments had shown him that bombarda had some interesting properties underwater, properties that he could use now.

The spell flew past the merpeople to impact the floor of the lake a dozen yards away from them. The water intensified the power of the spell, but the distance reduced it. The merpeople at the edge of the spell would be stunned, at least for a time. More importantly, a massive cloud of silt exploded upward.

From his research Harry knew that merpeople didn't depend on their sense of sight as much as humans did; after all they lived in a murky world filled with silt and sand. Their sense of hearing was particularly acute however. The sound of the explosion would have their ears ringing. With their vision and hearing taken care of, they would have difficulty in pinpointing him.

Harry cast a supersensory charm, and the world suddenly came into focus around him. He could hear the breathing of the merpeople, of Hermione and Neville and the girl. He knew where everyone was, and that was important.

A moment later he was among them, casting stunners right and left. The advantage of the bubbleheaded charm was that it let him actually speak his spells clearly, which was an advantage even though wand work was a little more difficult due to the resistance of the water.

The disadvantage was that he couldn't smell them even with the Supersensory charm; he had to rely on his sense of hearing to pinpoint where they were. Fortunately he'd had a lot of practice fighting like this ever since the time he'd fought the basilisk.

"STUPEFY, STUPEFY, STUPEFY," Harry cast the spell as quickly as he could move his wand and aim, hitting merperson after merperson.

The merpeople weren't as stunned as he had hoped either; he might have cast the spell a few yards closer for better results.

Enough of them were confused and in disarray that they interfered with the more alert and competent ones however, and Harry worked on attacking those first. Taking care of the most dangerous enemies first was basic strategy.

They were getting their act together, but it was already too late. Even as the silt began to disperse, more and more of their people were falling.

The others were coming after him, however, Harry assumed with spears outstretched. He felt something fly by him in the water; some of them were starting to throw spears.

He cast a shield spell, then continued methodically stunning the merpeople one after another.

It wouldn't have worked against wizards, but against a people who didn't have magic it was almost a foregone conclusion. Their only hope would have been to rush him and grab his wand hand, but in the darkness and confusion they had lost their organization and ability to coordinate and attack.

As light began to filter in, Harry looked dispassionately down on dozens of stunned merpeople laying in a circle around Hermione, Neville and the girl.

Unable to decide who they'd intended to be his valuable person...probably Neville, with Hermione as Krum's, Harry decided to take them all. After all, the last thing he wanted was for Hermione to think that he didn't care for her, especially after their recent problems.

"Diffindo! Diffindo! Diffindo!" It was nice to cast his signature spell for something other than killing and maiming. The vines holding the three of them snapped, and a quick levicorpus spell had them all floating behind him as he began to swim upward.

He could see Krum swimming toward them from the edge of town; stealing Krum's target would be a good way to rub Karkarov's nose in it anyway. The former Death Eater had cheated Harry on the last evaluation, and while he didn't particularly care about winning, he was irritated by it.

A moment later, he reached the boat and the three levitated behind him.

He pushed his way onto the boat and a moment later the boat was rushing over the water, the three dripping figures floating three feet over the surface of the water.

Behind him he could hear he three coughing with their exposure to air. Apparently whatever spell kept them sleeping ended when they were out of the water, or possibly at the expiration of the hour.

As he reached the shore he could see the crowd staring at him silently.

He helped the three down from where they were floating. Neville and Hermione seemed confused for a moment, but helpers were already running forward with heavy towels for them all.

As Dumbledore and Bagman and Scrimgeour stepped forward, Harry looked up. "I assumed you didn't want me to kill them."

"You weren't supposed to attack them," Dumbledore said. "Reaching the center of town within the time limit was deemed challenge enough."

"After the dragon what was I supposed to think?" Harry asked irritably. "They had spears pointed right at me. They're lucky they aren't chum in the water."

Dumbledore looked mildly alarmed at the idea that Harry might have decimated the relatively peaceful community that lived beside Hogwarts. If he'd really known Harry he'd have probably looked considerably more alarmed.

Harry stared at Scrimgeour. "I don't appreciate having my friends being held hostage either. Don't do it again."

Scrimgeour stepped forward, face flushed with anger. Apparently Harry'd earlier message had irritated him just as much as Harry had hoped it would.

"Who do you think you are?" he hissed. "I'm the Minister for Magic, and no one talks to me that way."

Harry shrugged. "I just did...and as for who I am, I'm the savior of the Wizarding world. I'm the Chosen one...what are you going to do...put me in Azkaban? Good luck with Voldemort then."

Scrimgeour winced at the mention of Voldemort's name.

"If you don't believe the prophecy, then leave me the..."

Dumbledore put his hand on Harry's shoulder before he could complete the sentence. "That's enough, Harry. The final task will not endanger your friends or family, I swear."

Harry nodded irritably.

The Ministry was lucky he didn't decide to go rogue and scarper off to France or Australia or something to go in hiding. Harry had to wonder if the Trace had a range limitation or whether it would follow him everywhere on Earth.

Was the Trace on his wand, or on he himself. He'd tried looking into it, but it was apparently a Ministry secret. No one wanted to say, even among his Slytherin spies.

"Gabrielle? Gabrielle? Is she alive? Is she 'ere?" Fleur emerged from the water looking panicked.

"She's over here," Harry said.

He wondered if Fleur would be even more angry at him for stealing her chance to save her sister. Krum was staring at him with undisguised anger after all.

Hmmm...his head was already back to being human. Harry had hoped to see how he'd untransfigured himself.

Madam Pomprey was trying to pull him away to wrap him in a towel and force the same warming potion on him that she was giving the others. He waved her off irritably. The warming spell he'd used was still keeping him toasty even in the chill Scottish air.

Fleur was hugging her sister as though she'd almost lost her.

"It was ze Grindylow...they attacked me...I thought I'd lost you."

The screens began to show replays of the champions deeds; Harry assumed using the same magical technology that allowed omnioculars to do the same.

He saw Krum fighting his way past the Grindylows even as Fleur struggled to deal with them.

His screen was dark as he saw the other two fighting their way past several different trials. Finally, his screen lit.

He'd never seen himself during combat; it was interesting to see the look of concentration on his face as he flitted from one hut to another, trying to keep out of sight of the merpeople inside.

He swam up, out of the view of the camera, and then shortly afterwards downwards.

His expression really was intimidating; as intimidating as possible from a teenage boy anyway. A cloud of silt rose, and for a long fifteen minutes all that could be seen was the cloud.

When the cloud vanished enough to see what was happening, harry was the only one left standing.

"Zank you, zank you," Fleur said, coming up to him and grabbing his hand.

Before he could do anything, she grabbed his head and kissed him.

Harry suddenly found that he couldn't breathe. His heart was racing in his chest and he suddenly found himself aware of every sensation. He'd released the supersensory charm before reaching the surface for fear that the noise of the crowd would overwhelm him. However, for a moment he wondered if he'd forgotten. Maybe kissing a Veela was a little like a supersensory charm.

Or maybe kissing a beautiful girl really was as amazing as everyone seemed to think it was.

Harry saw flashes of light, and it took him a moment to realize that it was cameras in the audience. This would be in the newspapers tomorrow.

As the kiss ended, he felt dazed and drained. His legs felt rubbery, and the exhaustion from the fight finally seemed to catch up to him.

He allowed Madam Pomprey to lead him away, trying to ignore the smug look on Fleur's face.

The judges called out the numbers. Fleur received twenty five points out of fifty because even had Harry not stolen her hostage she wouldn't have reached her in time.

Viktor Krum received thirty five points for using an incomplete transfiguration; he didn't collect his hostage only because Harry had already taken it.

Harry received forty points...he apparently hadn't been supposed to attack the merpeople or take the other hostages but his display of magic had impressed everyone. Harry suspected that they'd taken points off for his being a jerk in the beginning, but the points still put him in first place.

He'd hoped not to be in that position; he'd have to figure out a way to throw the third task. He could see irritated looks on many of his classmates and he suspected that he was going to hear about it for the next several weeks.

What he heard about the next day was the kiss. It was on the front page of the paper, in constant, animated motion, and Rita Skeeter had written a salacious article about a romantic quadrangle between Harry, Hermione, Fleur and Krum.

Supposedly Harry couldn't decide between Hermione and Fleur, and Hermione couldn't decide between Harry and Krum. Skeeter made Fleur and Krum out to be the blameless ones while Harry was made out to be fickle in love.

Harry suspected that she still resented his not going to her with his first story that had toppled Fudge's administration. He'd gone to the first reporter he could find, and he hadn't even met her until the tournament had begun.

He would have taken it all with a grain of salt, except that it seemed to bother Hermione. Every time she saw him she flushed and made an excuse to be somewhere else.

It wasn't until he talked to Neville that he learned that she'd been getting nasty notes and letters owled in; she even received a letter filled with a toxic chemical and had to go to the Hospital wing.

As enraged as Harry was by this, there wasn't anything he could do. The perpetrators were anonymous, and the impression Harry got from the letters that Neville showed him was that they were being sent by members of the outside community who had read Rita Skeeter's articles.

He felt helpless, and feeling helpless always left him feeling irritable.

Most things made him feel irritable these days. Objectively he knew that the kiss from Fleur had just been a thank you for saving her sister, but he couldn't stop thinking about what it had felt like. More importantly, he couldn't help but want it to happen again.

Fleur, however was ignoring him in the wake of the Skeeter story. It seemed as though she was wanting something from him, but he wasn't sure what it was. He ignored her back, and she kept looking increasingly irritated.

Skeeter bothered him a great deal. She'd reported on private conversations between him and Hermione, and from what Neville said between Hermione and Krum, and he'd never noticed her anywhere around. It was possible that she'd had an invisibility cloak, but he'd asked Moody, who hadn't seen her anywhere around the lake when Hermione had been talking to Krum.

Harry thought about it obsessively; it was easier than focusing on his relationship issues with Fleur and Hermione. Eventually he came to the conclusion that she was wither using some kind of evesdropping magic, or she was an animagus.

The best way to determine which was which was to cast a muffliatto spell and start talking about something seemingly salacious. If she heard it, then she was an animagus, probably something very small. If she didn't then she might simply be using something like a modified supersensory charm.

However, in the crowd they'd been in, a supersensory charm would have overloaded the senses. It would have been impossible to have made out one voice from the many in the din. After all, hearing the sounds of nine hundred people talking, breathing and shifting in their seats would have drowned anything else out. It had to be something more focused.

Harry wondered if she'd found a way to create a magical bug, like in the James Bond movies. He'd seen part of one from his cupboard when he was younger and for a little while he'd wanted to be James Bond.

He felt a little like James Bond now sometimes, with the Weasley twins subbing in for Q. Voldemort would make a perfect Bond villain.

The day finally came when Bagman summoned them all out to what had been the Quidditch field. There were now long, low hedge walls stretching in every direction.

Bagman smiled at them and said, "I suppose you can all guess what the final task will be."

"A maze," Fleur said, glancing at Harry. When he didn't respond, she glanced away quickly, a faint blush on her cheeks.

If Harry hadn't been a Slytherin, trained from the beginning of first year to hide his emotions, he'd have let her know just how affected he was by her presence. It was almost all that he could think about.

He wondered if there was some sort of an antidote to Veela magic. If there was, he'd gladly take it; it would be the only way to know whether the obsession he'd had with her was real or something manufactured.

"In a month, these walls will be twenty feet tall. We'll leave obstacles along the way. In the center of the maze will be the cup...whoever reaches it first will win the Tournament."

If that was the case, why have the other events?

Harry forced himself to think about the current task. There were places where the towers overlooked the maze. He still had the omnioculars from the Quidditch World Cup. He could use those to take a picture of the field from above and map out the maze. It wouldn't be particularly hard, although it might be a little time consuming.

"Hagrid's supplying the monsters, I guess," Harry said.

Bagman nodded.

That meant he'd be dealing with Skrewts at the very least, and those that had survived had grown alarmingly large.

Harry wondered if he was naturally competitive, or if maybe he wanted to show off in front of Fleur. Winning the Tournament wasn't something that he needed to do; he just had to look like he was working very hard to win it even if he lost.

He wouldn't even have to use the onmioculars. He could simply sneak out after dark and map the maze invisibly.

"The maze will shift around once you get inside," Bagman said, almost as though he was reading Harry's mind.

Chapter 574 - ggg

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