In a few hours, try again." said the portrait of Salazar Slytherin, his frame resting upon the stone wall of the Chamber of Secrets.
"That'll be the third time today!" complained Harry.
"Well, unless the magical beast selected for you gives you a break because you're tired, do it again!"
Harry moaned in agony, before pulling himself off the floor.
A week and a half had passed since the Selection of Champions ceremony, and what a horrible ten days it had been.
Nearly everybody staying within the confines of Hogwarts believed Harry to be a liar and a cheat. Not one of his fellow Gryffindors defended him, as they too were rather upset (and the few who were not either didn't know him well enough to care, or did not wish to become subject to the wrath of their peers). As a means to avoid the ire of his fellow students, Harry had stopped showing up to the majority of his classes. Not that it mattered - he had Salazar, as well as a number of ancient tomes and texts stored away within the Chamber of Secrets.
Professor McGonagall had informed him the morning after the selection that Triwizard Champions were exempt from all their classes for the year, which Harry immediately took advantage of. He had finished the practical portion of the fourth year course work by now, thanks to the help of Salazar; he would not be missing anything.
Besides, it was not too difficult of a decision; there was not a single Professor that did not look upon him with some sort of negative emotion, not even his own Head of House (who had quite clearly expressed her disappointment).
The same could be said for most of the students. Harry could count the number of students who had treated him just as they had before on a single hand. Neville, Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot had all treated him kindly (although Harry could tell the latter most likely did so because her friend did).
In other words, it was only Neville Longbottom and Susan Bones who treated him well. Not even the three Gryffindor chasers had treated him the same, instead taking what appeared to be a relatively neutral stance (although thankfully they appeared to be leaning more in his favour than against).
As if to scorn Harry further, the Auror Guards had been changed as well. It had turned out that Tonks and Hestia, as well as most of the other Aurors in their batch, had all been relatively new. After Harry's name had come out of the goblet, the ministry had instantly switched them out for the more experienced Aurors. It was at least somewhat comforting to know that the Ministry of Magic was at least taking it seriously (or more seriously than usual). Not that it was of much comfort to Harry.
Harry had not had a particularly good time saying his farewells to Tonks and Hestia, though he was relieved to find that they believed him when he said he hadn't entered his name. The two of them had assured him that they would meet again, before departing with the rest of the Aurors. Harry had spent the remainder of that day in the chamber, unleashing curse after curse until he could cast no more. He had forgotten what it was like to be alone - the last time he felt such a thing was the summer before his second year. Now, however, the feeling of being unloved and uncared for returned in full force.
Harry had forgotten ho much he hated it.
But there was nothing he could do about it. He could tell that Dumbledore at least suspected that he used his cloak to pass through the age line. Harry couldn't blame him - it was the only solution he himself could think of (although he conceded that he was nowhere near as knowledgable about magic as Dumbledore). He suspected that Snape and McGonagall at least had some sort of suspicion as well. They both knew about the existence of his cloak, although Harry was not sure how much more they knew.
With nothing better to do, Harry had spent almost all of his time since the selection in the Chamber of Secrets, training. Salazar had told him where the kitchens were located, meaning that Harry no longer needed to show up at the Great Hall for meals. Harry had been rather surprised to find Dobby working in the Hogwarts kitchen, though it was certainly nice to see the eccentric house elf again.
Harry had also been sleeping in the chamber as well, having transfigured a few stones into a bed. He had been fairly tired after that, but it had certainly been worth it.
The moment Harry had told Salazar about being entered into the Triwizard Tournament, the portrait had become incredibly dedicated in assuring that Harry would not only survive, but take first place. It would be a testament to his power, as well as his progress as a wizard, or at least that was what Salazar had claimed. Harry liked the sentiment, although he knew that surviving would certainly be a priority of his - Harry couldn't help but feel the portrait had a harder time understanding how dearly Harry wished to avoid being pummeled by some magical creature; he was a painting, after all.
"Can't I use a spell that's less power draining?" asked Harry.
"This is a perfect spell for your situation, even if it is far too Gryffindor for my liking." declared Salazar, "And you only have to hold the chains for a minute at most. The outcome of the first task will not be nearly as favourable towards you if you were to use any other spell."
"How is creating giant chains going to create a favourable outcome for me?" asked Harry sarcastically, "I've passed out more times than I can count!"
"Because these chains are created by a spell based upon wandless magic" Salazar informed him, "Although it is not actually wandless magic, but rather a replication of its theory. Regardless, the chains will be as strong as you intend for them to be, as it is based on your intent. As you are capable of wandless magic, producing such chains will be much, much easier for you."
"But I thought you said it wasn't wandless magic?"
"It isn't, but the principles are the same. That, along with several other reasons make the spell is perfect for your situation. The spell was obscure when I lived, nobody in your time will have heard of it. It is incredibly impressive, yet incredibly simple. People will think that you have simply discovered a rare spell, rather than you being particularly powerful. It will make people feel less threatened, as it could simply be that you know one random yet powerful spell. It is similar to Fiendfyre: easy to use, but hard to control, or in this case, hard to maintain. Besides, it will only last for a short period of time; just long enough for you to do whatever it is you will be asked to do."
"Why does it matter if people feel threatened?" ask Harry casually.
"Use your brains, Potter. How would you feel if you saw a teenage wizard far powerful than yourself?"
"Not very good about myself, I suppose." Harry supplied.
"Exactly, which will not lead to anything good for you." said Salazar, "But by using a single spell, the entire wizarding world will be able to observe your skill, but will think you just happened to stumble across it in the restricted section or something similar."
"People would really think that?" asked Harry skeptically.
"Of course they would, most witches and wizards are fools." said Salazar, dismissively waving his hand, "Either way, they will not feel particularly threatened, as all they will see is a boy that is fairly powerful, and knows a single powerful spell. That is much less threatening than a boy who is much more powerful than he should be for his age."
"That still sounds pretty threatening to me."
"Would Riddle seem particularly threatening to you if he was average in terms of power, but knew one very powerful spell?"
"Very much so, actually." replied Harry, "That sounds like teaching Malfoy the Killing Curse - we'd all be dead by nightfall, probably Malfoy as well; he's stupid like that, it's not hard to imagine."
"You understood the point." said Salazar.
"Right, but I have a few questions." said Harry, "Won't people be curious as to how I'm slightly more powerful than I should be? Because even if they think it's some random, powerful spell, they'll at least realize I have to be somewhat powerful to use it."
Salazar shrugged.
"Magic is a muscle. The more you use it and the more stressful your exercises are, the stronger it gets. People would just assume you use your magic more often. Besides, it is not as difficult as it may appear, thanks to how it is only required to last for a minute or so, as well as the slight advantage of it being specially created for Mages."
"But most people don't know that magic is like a muscle." said Harry, "They think it's like a raffle kind of thing, that some people are just stronger than others. That's what I thought, anyway."
"As I have said countless times, your generation appears to be filled with idiots." remarked the portrait. "However, for once they are not entirely incorrect. While your power increases by a certain amount each time you use magic, it increases by a certain amount each time, and can only increase so much. For some wizards, that amount, as well as it's limit, are higher than others."
"Am I one of the people for which it increases a lot more than most?"
"I would believe so." said Salazar.
"Am I really more powerful than the average witch or wizard?"
"Not yet. Based on how you've described your generation, I would place you at an equal level to a powerful seventh year." said the portrait, "Your power is currently impressive for your age, but nothing more. If this spell was not based near entirely off wandless magic, you would not be capable of using it to the level you can. Your instincts unconsciously guide you, making the spell far easier to use."
"Fine, then I'll try the spell again in a bit. But are you sure Hedwig won't become a phoenix or something by the first task?" said Harry, looking over to where Hedwig was sleeping upon one of the stone serpent heads, "Maybe she could help?"
Hedwig had been spending nearly as much time in the chamber as Harry, although she did go to the Owlery during the night. Harry was not willing to risk her wellbeing, not when there were so many petty school children running around, looking for some way at getting back at him. In their eyes, he had stolen their prize - never mind the fact that they would have never been selected a Triwizard Champion in the first place.
"The only way she could undergo the stasis that soon is if you kept constantly placing her in life threatening situations, resulting in the need to transform." explained Salazar, "As you might have guessed, I would not recommend it. Either way, revealing her to the world is not at all a good idea."
Harry nodded slightly, before lying down on the stone floor. If he had to use that damn spell again, he was going to make sure he was well rested.
Fleur Delacour sat within the confines of her private room in the Beauxbatons Carriage, staring out at the cloudy Hogwarts sky. She alone was still in her room, as the other students were all in the main living area of the carriage. Just because they had been part of the delegations did not mean that they were exempt from classes; that was a privilege only Fleur got to enjoy.
Her room was painted blue and gold, decorated in a Victorian style that matched the furniture. There was a lovely king sized bed in the center, with a desk to the side, facing the window. There was also a full body mirror on the opposite wall, with a bathroom attached to it. All in all it was rather lovely, and an exact copy of her bedroom at home. It had taken time to transfigure everything perfectly, but the feeling of comfort it provided Fleur with made it more than worth it.
She was currently resting upon her large bed, pondering on the recent events that had occurred, most of which centered around Harry Potter.
As she had expected, her name had come out of the Goblet of Fire. It was rather surreal, even if she knew it was coming. The sight of Eloise, Clara, and Juliette crying in shame had been more satisfying than she could have ever suspected. The three of them had been among those who created many of the false rumours that were connected to her name, so Fleur found it rather hard to carry any sympathy for them.
After shaking hands with Albus Dumbledore (who had made a point not to look her in the eyes), she made her way over to the door of the antechamber. She had turned her head before entering the room, her eyes meeting the famous Potter's. He was clapping with everyone else, no hint of being under the allure visible.
She, unlike her beloved sister, had not been a firm believer in the legends of Harry Potter. She had decided that the events of Godric's Hollow, 1981, was a circumstance of pure chance. Her point of view made sense; Harry Potter had been a year old at the time, it was highly unlikely that he would ever amount to anything special.
Fleur had not been sure how much she stuck to that belief anymore. He was clearly resistant to her allure, making him the first male besides her father to perform such a feat. She had to admit that there was indeed something different about the boy - not necessarily a good kind of different, but different.
Her theory had been proven correct when he had entered the antechamber.
Leave it to the British Ministry to mess up something so important.
Fleur had no clue whether or not Harry Potter had entered his name into the goblet. She could not see how he could accomplish such a thing, even if she could understand why someone might want to enter.
She had carefully considered the matter when she had gone to bed the night of the selection, eventually concluding that the boy could not have entered his name. It was clear that he could not have asked an older student, as he had been chosen as the fourth champion, rather than the Hogwarts one.
She supposed that if someone had simply written a random school down on their slip of paper, they would become champion of the school they had chosen. After talking to Madame Maxime, however, she realized that such a thing could not have occurred. Dumbledore's age line had done much more than restrict students below a certain age; it had also tracked magical signatures, and prevented the inclusion of any entries carrying a name belonging to someone whose magical signature was less than 17 years of age.
In other words, the only logical way that his name could have been entered was if he had gotten to the goblet before the age line had been set up. That would not be likely either, as the age line had been set up by Dumbledore a few short minutes after the Goblet of Fire had lit by Mr. Crouch and Ludo Bagman.
There were certainly other potential ways that the boy's name had been entered, though each was as unlikely as the last. Fleur found it particularly hard to believe that Dumbledore had entered the boy's name, or that someone within the castle might own an artifact that could hide magic - a type of artifact that had been last reportedly seen several centuries ago.
She had not been oblivious to the look of disappointment on Dumbledore's face in the antechamber, nobody had. It was clear that the headmaster believed the boy had some knowledge as to how his name had come out of the goblet, though Fleur could not fathom what that knowledge might be.
Regardless, the boy was now a champion, and would be her third opponent in the competition. That simply meant she would have to collect information on one more person. She was not planning on participating in a tournament when she did not know the strengths and weaknesses of her opponents.
She had gotten her first piece of information on Harry Potter in the antechamber, and what a useful piece of information it was.
He is a Parselmouth.
That was a very interesting piece of information. She had heard rumours of such a thing a few years back; even in France, the boy was very prevalent (although he seemed to be unaware of it). She had not believed it for a second, as she learnt from her father that the only way someone could have the ability was if they were a true descendant of the famed Salazar Slytherin, whose line had supposedly died out.
She was not sure if anyone else in the antechamber had realized that, although most seemed equally horrified. She was certain, however, that Karkaroff had known exactly what it had meant, considering his reaction. Fleur's father had been involved in the sentencing of Karkaroff many years ago, and he had warned Fleur about the man before she had left France.
Fleur had not been necessarily concerned about the boy possessing such an ability; she didn't see how it mattered who someone's ancestor was. Besides, she would be one of the last people to judge someone on any abilities they might have, given the abilities she herself possessed as a Veela.
Fleur had reacted badly to Harry Potter being a Parselmouth for a completely different reason than the others within the antechamber. She had been more concerned as to what being a Parselmouth might mean for the first task. The first task always involved some sort of magical beast, and if it was a basilisk, the boy was almost guaranteed victory. She had calmed herself down upon realizing that basilisks were tied for the rarest magical species (the other being phoenixes). In fact, the last recorded sighting of a basilisk had been several centuries ago.
There was still a possibility that he might rely on conjuring snakes, however. The Serpensortia spell was not particularly hard, and would be incredibly useful for a Parselmouth. Although no snake conjured by the simple spell would be capable of defeating any magical beast, they could still be used as distractions.
It isn't nearly enough to level the playing field. He is far to young.
Still, Fleur would not be underestimating the boy; he was famous for a reason, and even if she did not believe the tales, she was still wary. But he was still many years younger, his magic was likely to be a lot less controlled and powerful than hers, or either of the other competitors.
She had looked into both Victor Krum and Cedric Diggory, hoping to learn any potential strengths and weaknesses they might have. Krum was obviously a talented flier; if he had the foresight to summon his broom, he might do fairly well against most magical beasts if the task did not involve actually fighting the creature.
Diggory seemed to be a hard worker, but was not as magically powerful as herself. He was not likely to be a major threat in the tournament. She had tried to assess the prowess of Harry Potter, but he had seemingly disappeared off the face of the earth, making the ordeal rather challenging.
The Daily Prophet, the leading British Newspaper was having a field day. They had made several different articles regarding the selection ceremony, and had even sent in a few reporters to investigate the goblet.
There had even been a reporter who had hidden in the Transfiguration Classroom, apparently waiting for Harry Potter to show up to class. Nearly a third of those in the school had been present as Professor Minerva McGonagall shot spells at the man, chasing him from her class. It had been a rather amusing sight, and Fleur had made sure to include a detailed description of the events in her recent letter to Gabrielle.
The students of Hogwarts had been equally as interested in Harry Potter being selected as a champion, though not at all in a good way. Fleur had spotted one of the boy's redheaded friends bad mouthing him a few days prior. That had angered Fleur quite a bit, regardless of her usual lack of care when it came to what others did. You were supposed to stick by those you cared about, no matter what happens. It didn't help that the redhead had seemingly abandoned Harry Potter out of jealousy, an emotion that nearly everyone felt when they met her - an emotion that Fleur had a rather rough relationship with, in other words.
There had also been a blonde Slytherin boy who had developed badges that read either 'Support Cedric Diggory, the REAL Hogwarts Champion!' or 'Potter Stinks!'. Nearly everyone she had seen in the castle (while under the disillusionment charm, of course) wore one, even many of those in the house of Gryffindor. Fleur had felt a large dose of sympathy for Harry Potter when she saw that; it was something she could relate to very well.
Fleur sighed gently, shaking head and standing up from her bed. She walked over to the desk beside the window, before plopping down on the leather seat. She idly turned the cover of the book that sat before her, labeled 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them'.
It was going to be a long and boring day.
Harry quietly made his through the courtyard, walking the direction of the lake. It was currently November 14th, a mere three days before the Wand weighing ceremony. He was on his way to visit Hermione, who he knew was by the lakeside at the moment, thanks to the aid of the Marauder's Map.
Over the course of the past few days, Harry had begun to make himself more visible to the students of Hogwarts, occasionally walking around the school in search of Hedwig, or simply to get his mind off things. He had already been accosted by angry students five times, though none of them had yet thrown any spells at him.
The courtyard was jam packed, it was lunch time at the moment, and many had decided to eat outside, taking advantage of the last few days of relatively good weather. Harry had been hoping that the surplus of students would make it harder for anyone to notice him. Unfortunately, his luck was continuing to prove rather shoddy.
"There you are, Scarhead!" yelled Malfoy. He was resting upon a thick branch of a willow tree. Scattered around him were a few of Malfoy's posse, as well as Pansy Parkinson and her group of friends.
"My father and I have a bet, you see." called the blonde from his branch on the tree. He gently jumped down to the ground, before continuing.
"I don't think you're going to last ten minutes in this tournament. Father disagrees, of course." said Draco, "He doesn't think you'll last five!"
The Slytherins all cackled madly, before all pressing their hands to the badges that adorned their chests. Each badge was now a bright green, the phrase 'Potter Stinks!' clearly legible upon them.
Malfoy must have created those badges while I've been practicing in the chamber.
"Are we talking about the same father of yours who bribed his way out of Azkaban?" asked Harry scathingly. "Yeah, I really care about what he thinks."
"Don't say a word against my father!" yelled Malfoy. Those in the courtyard had all quieted significantly, listening with rapt attention. It was the common consensus at Hogwarts that one would be hard pressed to find something more entertaining than when Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy got into a conversation.
"Funny, you seem to say a lot about mine." said Harry, before turning around and continuing on his way.
"My father is a noble pureblood, the best of the best!" roared Malfoy at Harry's retreating back.
"Don't care."
"Not going to talk like a man, Scarhead? Mummy never teach you proper manners? I suppose that makes sense . . . she was dead before you could wipe the drool off your chin."
Something inside Harry snapped. He could feel raw magic coursing through him once more, his wandless magic desperate for release, clearly sensing the angry intent within him. It made sense; wandless magic was based on his intent, which was based on his emotions, and as of right now, he was quite enraged.
Harry turned around, glaring at Draco with undisguised hatred. He had no wand in his hand at the moment; he had kept it within his robes. The theory was that if he could not see his wand, he would be less likely to curse some idiot such as Malfoy. His theory was clearly wrong.
A moment after Harry turned around, Malfoy's shirt caught on fire. The blonde screamed loudly, his voice reverberating across the silent courtyard.
Just as quickly as the flames had appeared, they had vanished. Malfoy's shirt was perfectly fine, although it was clear to all that he had felt the scorching heat of the flames.
Harry didn't stick around to see Malfoy's reaction, instead choosing to continue on his walk. He had just done something incredibly stupid, something which could potential cost him a lot, the least of which being retaliation from Malfoy's father.
He wasn't particularly worried about the trouble he might get into; he could always say that it was a simple act of accidental magic. He had, after all, not used his wand, and there were about a hundred witnesses that could confirm that.
What had actually happened had been a case of Harry's wandless magic. He had given into his anger, and used his intent to get back at Malfoy. Considering he was so far only capable of using his wandless magic in the form of two elements, he did not have many options to choose from. Harry had gone with fire in the heat of the moment, as it was much less impressive than lightning - that way he would actually have an excuse for his actions.
I'll tell Salazar about losing control of my emotions; he might be more likely to teach me Occlumency earlier.
The ancient portrait had refrained from teaching Harry the mental art, stating that if he did not truly understand and recognize his emotions, he could potentially do some serious damage to his mind. While Harry understood the point, he felt the good outweighed the bad; if he was capable of mastering Occlumency, he would be able to drastically increase his control over his magic, both normal and wandless.
Harry eventually arrived by the lakeside where he found Hermione reading a book. She idly turned the page, munching on a piece of toast.
"Hello, Hermione." said Harry, sitting down beside the bushy haired girl. She looked up from her book, her expression not revealing any emotions.
Harry had already long decided how he would be dealing with his classmates. For most of them, especially Ron, he would do nothing. If they wished to regain his friendship, they would have to come to him. Even then, he would only rekindle their bond if he still wanted it. Harry was not particularly sure whether or not he would want it anymore; he had been very happy spending time with Salazar and Hedwig, and occasionally Tonks and Hestia (before they had left, of course).
Hermione, however, was a different case. As far as he knew, she had not yet voiced her opinions on Harry's name emerging from the goblet. There was a possibility that she did not believe that he had entered his name. If that were the case, he would be the one asking for forgiveness, not the other way around.
"Hello, Harry." said Hermione, "I haven't seen you in a while, I suppose you've been staying wherever you used to vanish off to?"
"I am." replied Harry. Hermione nodded sagely, clearly having expected the given answer.
"Professor McGonagall wasn't particularly happy with your disappearance." said Hermione, "She was disappointed with us for not being there for you, and with you for leaving. I heard she's been wanting to speak with you."
Harry shrugged.
"I felt like my presence wasn't wanted, so I left."
The two of them sat in silence for a few minutes, Hermione continuing to eat her toast. When the silence was finally broken, it was done so by Harry.
"You don't think I entered my name, do you?" he asked hesitantly.
"I'm . . . not sure, really."
"And why is that?" said Harry, suppressing his sudden rush of annoyance.
"You've changed, I guess." said Hermione, "Half the time you're nowhere to be found. And when you are there, you seem less innocent, I guess. Less pure."
"My life hasn't exactly been a bright ray of sunshine, you know." said Harry.
"I know, but even then, you were always so happy and kind, so innocent . . ."
"So do you think I entered myself?" asked Harry, his anger with the situation starting to get to him.
"Like I said . . . I'm not quite sure."
Harry stood up, brushing himself off. He had gotten the answer he had been looking for, and even though it had not been the one he wanted, it was still an answer. He walked away from the lakeside at a quick pace, ignoring Hermione's calls for him to come back.
"Just when I think you can not possibly make things even worse for yourself," said Salazar, his voice resonating through the study, "You find something worse, and you do it."
"I already told you, it was an accident!" complained Harry.
"What a load of dragon dung!" roared Salazar, "You set the boy on fire, using your wandless magics! That was no accident!"
"It riled me up, didn't it? I lost control of my emotions, and in turn, my intent. Since wandless magic relies upon intent, it did what I wanted it to do!"
"You do remember that you're not the only Mage I've taught, correct?" asked Salazar, "Your intent would have had to be very specific; you would have had to literally envision the boy catching on fire, and then having the flames vanish a second later! I can only wonder what kind of trouble you have gotten yourself into!"
"Detention." replied Harry casually, "McGonagall found me when I was coming back from my chat with Hermione. I have it in like fifteen minutes, actually."
"There is absolutely no way you got off with a simple detention. Not even your generation can have lowered behavioral standards so drastically."
Harry shrugged.
"I said it was accidental magic, and they don't have a reason to not believe me." replied Harry, "To be honest, a detention for accidental magic seems a tad bit unfair."
"The oldest recorded case of accidental magic, at least from when I was alive, was thirteen."
"Well I'm fourteen, big difference."
"We digress. You have to have wanted him to catch fire, or it would not have happened. There is no such thing as accidental Mage Magic - it can release itself in strange or unintended ways, but it will not occur without some form of potent intent."
"Either way, I lost control of my emotions, didn't I?" argued Harry, "If I had learnt Occlumency, things like this might not happen in the future!"
Salazar's eyes narrowed.
"You have not developed so much as a basic control or understanding over your emotions; having you learn Occlumency now would tear your brain apart. You posses, without a doubt, an unusually low level on natural Occlumency."
"You said Occlumency would help me control my emotions. I could work on both at the same time!"
The two of them sat in silence for a few minutes, before Salazar eventually spoke.
"We will begin after you have overcome the first task." said the portrait, "You still remain incapable of doing magic after conjuring the chains."
"I'm working on it." said Harry, "I'm getting better, hopefully I'll be capable of restraining whatever beast they bring - the smaller, the better."
Salazar nodded.
"You have progressed impressively in your offensive magic, which you can use in case of an emergency. Aim for the eyes of the beast; almost all magical creatures are weak there."
"Alright. I can work on accuracy when I come back from my detention, but I need to leave now or I'll get in trouble - McGonagall was furious."
"Good, and refrain from getting caught doing anything Gryffindorish in the future."
"How very amusing." Harry remarked.
Upon leaving the chamber, Harry had made his way over to Professor McGonagall's classroom for his detention. It was a few minutes before 9:15, the time that had been scheduled for his detention.
According to school rules, all students were supposed to at least be in their common rooms by nine, but that did not seemingly extend to events such as detention. After all, he had been sent into the Forbidden Forest well past midnight during a previous detention, and it had been when he was a first year.
"Ah, Mr. Potter." said Professor McGonagall when Harry entered her classroom. She stood up from her desk, gently pushed the stack of assignments she had been grading tot eh side, and made her way over to the door.
"Your detention will be taking place somewhere else." she informed him, before walking out of her classroom at a quick pace. Harry jogged slightly to catch up with her, wondering where it was they were going.
"The headmaster and I have been very concerned with your recent disappearances." said Professor McGonagall, "It has been brought to our attention that you have not been seen in the Gryffindor common room for weeks."
"Let me guess, Hermione told you?" said Harry sarcastically as the two of them made their way down one of the many staircases.
Professor McGonagall flashed him a disapproving look, though she said nothing. She was clearly waiting for him to answer her question.
"The Gryffindor students didn't want to be around me, so I gave them what they wanted."
"And where is it that you have spent all your time for the last week and a half?"
Harry shrugged casually.
"When you have as many adventures as I do, you're bound to learn a few secrets of the castle."
"I suppose the map helped a great deal as well?"
Harry paused, his eyes narrowing.
"Hermione told you." he said. It wasn't a question, but rather a simple statement. It was confirmed when Professor McGonagall nodded her head slightly.
"I can not do anything about the map, as it is rightfully yours. I have also decided not to delve further into your choice to leave Gryffindor Tower, as you are clearly fine and are a Triwizard Champion. Since you are not seemingly abusing your newfound freedom, I have no say in your personal life."
She paused at the end of the staircase, turning around to Harry.
"I will, however, express my disapproval of your choice to skip out on your classes." said McGonagall, "These past few months you have improved incredibly in all aspects, far more than I have ever seen someone do in a year. It is not wise to miss out on your education at such a time in your life."
"You yourself told me that as a Triwizard Champion, I have the right not to go to my classes." said Harry, "I'm not missing them, it's more like self study. I'm practicing hard to make sure I don't get hurt."
Professor McGonagall frowned, but once again said nothing. She led Harry further down the stairs, until they eventually reached the main landing.
"Professor, where exactly are we going?" asked Harry curiously.
"I asked the staff if they had anything that they required help with." said McGonagall, leading him to the main entrance, "Professor Hagrid informed me that he would appreciate help in preparing for his next class."
Harry smiled happily to himself. He would be serving detention with Hagrid, which was more than fine with him. He had previously been dreading having to spend hours in the dungeons with Filch, cleaning each and every cobblestone tile that made up the flooring.
"Do not be so easily excited, Mr. Potter." said Professor McGonagall, "Professor Snape has personally requested your assistance for the next time you land yourself in detention."
Of course he has.
"Why hasn't Malfoy been given any detentions?" asked Harry, "I used a bit of accidental magic, right after he insulted . . . well, you know."
"His punishment was the loss of fifty points from Slytherin house." Professor McGonagall informed Harry.
Harry scoffed.
"As if anyone gives a damn about house points. He's probably laughing his arse off."
"That will be five points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter."
Harry rolled his eyes.
The pair made their way through the grounds and over to Hagrid's hut. They passed by the Beauxbatons Carriage, where the light was still on. Harry could hear people talking inside, though he could not hear their conversation.
Professor McGonagall made her way over to Hagrid's door, knocking on it thrice. They heard a slight creaking noise from the inside of the hut before the door opened, revealing Hagrid.
"Alright then Harry, come on inside! We got lots of work to do, c'mon!"
Hagrid waved goodbye to Professor McGonagall, telling her that Harry would be back in the castle within two hours. Once the two professors had finished their quick discussion, Hagrid gently pushed Harry into the hut, quickly fastening the door behind him.
"You got your cloak by any chance?" asked Hagrid.
"Er - no, I don't. Why?"
"Got summat ter show yeh. Doesn't matter, it's dark anyway. Just follow me, and stay outta sight."
Hagrid turned around, covering himself in a horrible coat, before opening the door and stepping outside.
"Hagrid, wait up! You can't just do that! What are we doing?" Harry asked. The last time Hagrid had been this mysterious, Harry had ended up in the middle of an Acromantula Colony. He was not particularly interested in repeating such a feat.
"Didn't Ron or Hermione tell yeh?" asked Hagrid as he straightened out his coat, "I told em' to tell yeh to visit me after dark some time soon. Said it was important, I did. I had to specially schedule your detention with me, didn't think you'd come otherwise."
Harry narrowed his eyes in anger.
"Funnily enough, Ron and Hermione haven't said a word to me about any of this."
"Well, yer here now, that's what matters." said Hagrid happily.
Harry quietly followed Hagrid out the door, only to be suddenly stopped by the ginormous man.
"You can't be seen, Harry!" warned Hagrid, "Just follow me."
"If I didn't know any better, I would say those two statements tend to contradict each other." muttered Harry sarcastically.
Salazar's cynicism and sarcasm are finally rubbing off on me.
Harry quickly covered himself with a disillusionment charm, before following Hagrid. The spell was not perfect, as Harry had been working more on his offensive magic, but it was definitely better than most students could accomplish. He did not have his invisibility cloak on him, so he would have to make do. Harry quickly set off after Hagrid, who was heading towards the Beauxbatons Carriage.
Hagrid knocked gently (or as gently as someone of his size could) on the carriage door. The door slowly swung open, revealing Madame Maxime. She, like Hagrid, was wearing formal attire (although unlike Hagrid, her attire was not hideous). They exchanged a few words before Hagrid held out his hand, which she accepted. The two of them slowly walked in the direction of the forest.
You have got to be shitting me.
He was not even remotely interested in third wheeling on Hagrid's date, and was seriously considering turning back then and there. However, his curiosity got the better of him, and he followed the two of them into the forest.
He silently trailed them, his eyes narrowing slightly as Hogwarts was obscured from view by the many trees. It had just occurred to him that the things Hagrid considered to be perfectly safe were typically the exact opposite. He was not particularly interested in being murdered by some sort of exotic monster, although he supposed that would likely occur in a week's time either way.
Bam.
Harry lost complete focus over his mediocre attempt at the disillusionment charm, so surprised at walking into what had appeared to be thin air. He nearly fell to the floor, pulling his wand out as he steadied himself.
Lumos.
The tip of his wand lit at the use of his silent spell. Thankfully, he was far enough from Hagrid and Madame Maxime that he was not at risk of being seen. He gently waved his wand in front of him, pausing when it landed upon something solid, something that had not been there a moment prior.
Standing before him was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, to the point where it was not even a competition. Her silvery blonde hair flew with the gentle breeze, her teeth shining like the moon.
A woman who seemed just as surprised at seeing him here as he was her.
"Fleur Delacour." said Harry, his eyes narrowing.