Harry sat on the carpeted floor of the Salazar's study, waiting as the portrait read the article Harry had presented him with.
A week had passed since the first task of the Triwizard Tournament. Harry had received letters from Tonks, Hestia, and even Sirius, all telling him how well he had performed. Harry wasn't entirely sure how Sirius had managed to watch the task, although he supposed it didn't matter. As long as he didn't get caught, Harry didn't particularly care.
Harry had received all three of the letters whilst he made his way to the kitchens one morning. It had not surprised him; he knew that the Chamber of Secrets blocked all owls from entering. The times which he left the chamber for food were likely one of the few occasions during which people could send him mail. The owls must have waited for him; Harry doubted all three of them were lucky enough to arrive at just the right moment.
Harry had continued to spend most of his time in the Chamber of Secrets, learning the theory of Occlumency from Salazar. It was immensely complicated, but Harry was very interested in learning it; complete control over his own mind was something Harry found very appealing.
He had not properly interacted with anyone other than Salazar and Hedwig, in part because of his schedule. Harry could occasionally be seen roaming the halls. He was typically left alone during this time, even by the guilty Gryffindors.
Ron seemed to have calmed down slightly, although he was certainly still bitter. Harry had heard the redhead insult him on several occasions, although few of them seemed to truly hold a sort of bite to them, unlike those issued from people like Malfoy. He had also become best friends with Seamus and Dean, not that Harry cared.
Harry had also spotted Hermione in the library often, while he was under the cover of his Disillusionment Charm. She had seemingly invested herself in her work; Harry knew that she did this whenever she was upset. Harry had felt rather guilty after seeing that; Hermione genuinely cared, even if she was not always good at showing it. Thankfully, the bushy-haired girl had managed to get to know the other Gryffindor fourth years better, and was not as bad as she might have been - as far as Harry had been able to tell, anyway.
The feeling of loneliness was finally starting to catch up with Harry. While Hedwig and Salazar were both amazing, they were not the same as true companionship. Harry was beginning to grow lonely, a feeling similar to when he used to be locked in his cupboard for days on end. Harry decided he didn't quite like that feeling.
Unfortunately for Harry, it seemed that his already poor luck had somehow decreased further. Rita Skeeter had published an article for the Daily Prophet on the first task, and she hadn't painted some of the participants all too well.
"Well?" asked Harry after a few moments, "What do you think?"
"This is obviously not a good thing, but it certainly could have been a lot worse." replied Salazar, "It also is likely one of the stupidest articles I have ever read - although it is no doubt more than capable of swaying a few mindless fools."
Harry nodded, having reached a similar conclusion. He picked up the article from the desk, straightening it out to read it for a third time.
'Dark Magic in the Triwizard Tournament
by Rita Skeeter
On Thursday, November 24th, millions of witches and wizards around the globe watched the four Triwizard Champions attempt the first task. Their task was to steal a golden egg from a dragon's nest. Most of those who watched the task were greatly impressed by the skill of the four champions, and applauded their ability.
Sadly, the true story appears to be much deeper (and darker) than what we all saw.
Cedric Diggory and Victor Krum, two of the four champions, were not the source of this problem. They both performed excellently, and were rewarded as such. Victor Krum, who represented Durmstrang, is noted to have used slightly darker curses in his attempt to steal the golden egg, but that is to be expected, given the Durmstrang Academic Course.
The other two champions, however, were not nearly as innocent.
Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, is arguably the most well known witch or wizard alive, alongside Albus Dumbledore. His fame stems from his defeat of You-Know-Who at the tender age of a year old, an incredibly impressive accomplishment. But now we must wonder how Harry Potter is choosing to use his gift of magic.
Harry Potter got around his dragon by bounding it in chains. It is quite obvious to all that this was no ordinary spell. A normal spell would not be capable of subduing an eighty foot dragon to the point where it could not move an inch. I have taken it upon myself to interview a number of experts, many of whom believe Potter to have been using dark magic. Excerpts from each of the interviews can be found on page 5.
This is not the first time Harry Potter has been accused of such things. According to several Hogwarts students, the Boy-Who-Lived is a Pareselmouth, someone who posses the dark ability to speak to snakes. He has also gotten in trouble with the Ministry of Magic twice in the last three summers for use of underage magic. During the second incident, Ministry records claim that the boy inflated his aunt, causing her to fly across London for several hours on end.
The other champion, Fleur Delacour, is a Veela. A Veela is a magical creature with the power to ensnare with lust, pulling people in with their allures. It seems as though Miss Delacour is much more powerful than the average Veela, however. It has been noted that she is much more powerful than the average Veela, something that undoubtable deserves to be investigated further. She seemingly used her Veela Magic to put the dragon to sleep. Experts claim this to be another potential use dark magic.
Why they have chosen such extreme methods is unknown. We can only hope that the two champions can change for the better, rather than get pulled into the darkness.'
Harry sighed, throwing the parchment back onto the desk. It was a depressingly pathetic article, one that would not convince anyone with a semblance of intelligence.
Unfortunately, a semblance of intelligence appeared to be a rarity within the modern wizarding world.
"This will likely hurt your reputation," noted Salazar.
Harry chuckled quietly.
"The contents of this article are so poor that it could be used to fertilize the grass of the Hogwarts grounds." said Harry jokingly.
"Yes, and sheep love to eat grass, don't they?" retorted Salazar.
Harry rolled his eyes before continuing.
"I've decided that I'm going to need some form of leverage over her." said Harry, "She wrote articles like this after my name came out of the goblet as well, although those weren't nearly as bad."
"Ah, just like a true Slytherin!" exclaimed Salazar happily, "Well, a Slytherin in Gryffindor robes. I believe the term 'a wolf in sheep's clothing' would suffice?"
"Enough with the sheep jokes," reprimanded Harry, "There's a Hogsmeade trip today, I was planning on tailing her. I heard her telling her camera man she would be tailing Bagman the next time he went to Hogsmeade, which should be today - he only ever goes when the students do, same with Mr. Crouch. Anyway, Skeeter said something about Bagman owing goblins some money. I want to know how she keeps finding out secrets."
"If she's the kind of witch I think she is, she's definitely hiding something." Salazar told him.
"I was going to ask Fleur if she wanted to join me, to try and find out something about Skeeter."
Salazar's expression turned to one of confusion.
"The Veela girl?" he asked, "Is she not one of your opponents in the task? The one who was rude to you?"
"She is." answered Harry, "But she's not that bad. We're acquaintances, or something - well, I don't really know. Either way, she was attacked by the article too. I reckon she'd like to help."
Salazar nodded slowly.
"Very well, but do not let your guard down. She may simply try and learn more about her competition."
"Don't worry, I know." replied Harry, "But there's still a chance she might want to be friends. She seems fairly lonely."
"You describe her to be an incredibly powerful Veela." said Salazar, "Of course she is lonely."
Fleur angrily threw her copy of Rita Skeeter's article on the first task across the room, watching as it crashed against the wall opposite her. Seven days had passed since she had participated in the first task. She had received a letter from Gabrielle and her mother, praising her on her performance - something which pleased her greatly. But the British reporter just couldn't let Fleur enjoy her accomplishment.
Her father had initially tried to do something about the article, but it was in vain. Had it been 'Presse Magique', the most prominent French wizarding newspaper, her father could have all copies retracted within the hour. But this was not in France, and Fleur was therefore forced to suffer.
Even if she were to ignore all of that, the past few weeks had not been overly spectacular. She had encountered Eloise, Clara, and Juliette far more often than she would have liked, for starters. Each time always seemed to end with them insulting her in one way or another.
Technically, they begin that way as well.
The three of them, along with all of the other Beauxbatons students, had been incredibly disappointed to see Fleur emerge from the task entirely unscathed. They had, however, been very pleased to discover the article the Skeeter woman had written. Fleur was fairly certain that it was them that were placing so many copies of the article around the Beauxbatons Carriage.
To make matters worse, she was now more lonely than ever. It was true that she had never had a friend of any kind before, but this was worse; she was without her family, and without the comforts of Beauxbatons castle.
There was also the Yule Ball, an event Fleur was not at all looking forward to. She had asked Madame Maxime if she would have to attend, and received the answer she had feared. She was likely to spend the entire night with some boy who was drooling from his mouth; it was not an appealing image.
Frustrated by her misfortune, Fleur had spent most of the last few weeks attempting to figure out what the clue of the golden egg meant. Whenever opened, the golden egg unleashed a scream that nearly tore her eardrums in two. Many of the other students had threatened her because of it, claiming that it could be heard throughout the entire carriage.
Fleur had done quite a bit of research on creatures with horrible voices. The most commonly mentioned creature was the Banshee, yet Fleur suspected that wasn't the answer she was looking for.
She made her way out of her room, heading towards the carriage doors. She was planning to go sit by the lakeside, to ponder better on the clue. It was a new favourite pastime of hers; she had always found shores to be aesthetically pleasing (despite her dislike of water), and was capable of keeping warm, both with magic and her gifts as a Veela.
Besides that, the cold weather had prevented people from visiting the lake. When she had initially arrived at Hogwarts, many males would often visit the lake in swimming trunks, trying to impress her. There were also the Durmstrang delegations, who would often swim in the lake during those warmer months. Fleur was pleased to report there was nobody else by the lakeside or within it - the few idiots who had tried were not in a hurry to do so again.
Perhaps they have all gone to Hogsmeade.
She had heard that the students were allowed to visit the village today. A part of her wanted to go; it seemed like a lovely place. Unfortunately, Fleur would likely not be able to enjoy herself due to the number of stares she would receive.
She could not use the Disillusionment Charm either, as she suspected it would be much harder to enjoy herself if she did. She would constantly have to move out of people's way (which she had practice with, thanks to her use of the charm in Beauxbatons), but was still not preferable.
She could wear a hood, of course - people were not affected by her allure when they could not see her - but it would also mean she could not interact with anyone.
Not that I have anyone to interact with . . .
Still, this would make it so she could not even speak to the clerks and cashiers, which would obviously be a problem. That, combined with Rita Skeeter's article would create a problem Fleur had no interest in dealing with.
She quietly pulled out a book, entitled 'Sounds of Magic: A Collection of Peculiar Noises', and began to read. It was a vastly boring tome, but she would have to get through it if she hoped to succeed in the next task.
'The two most deadly sounds produced by magical creatures are the screams of the Banshee and the Mandrake.
The Banshee is a creature that originates in Ireland. They are humanoid creatures with hair that reaches the floor, green tinged skin that gives off a pale glow, and skeletal facial features. Their screams can reach - '
"So why are you reading the most boring book in the Hogwarts Library?" asked an amused voice from behind.
Fleur recognized the voice instantly.
She slowly turned around, and sure enough, Harry Potter stood before her. He was wearing his normal Gryffindor robes, though he clearly wasn't cold; he had likely used a warming charm as she had.
"How would you know it is the most dull book in your library?" Fleur asked, her voice cold and superior as usual.
"Back in my second year, I kept hearing someone whispering things." said Harry, "One of my old friends gave me the book to read, she thought I had gone mad. Anyway, it ended up being a snake that I was hearing."
Fleur nodded slightly. She didn't particularly think it wise to give such information to an opponent, but said nothing. It was not like it was anything of importance, and nothing she didn't already know. Besides, she truthfully didn't care at the moment.
Harry motioned to her, clearly asking for permission to sit down. When she nodded her head, he sat upon the snow covered floor beside her.
"You said 'one of my old friends'." noted Fleur.
"I listened to your advice." Harry informed her, "They should have had my back, but they didn't."
Fleur nodded, having fully expected the outcome. Her expectations were proven reality the evening after the first task, when she heard the redheaded boy spreading rumours about him.
"Why did you come?"
Harry reached into the pocket of his robes, pulling out a copy of the Daily Prophet's coverage on the first task. The mere sight of the article caused Fleur's eyes to narrow.
"I'm fairly certain you've seen this, judging by your reaction." said Harry, "Rita Skeeter is a British reporter who knows a bunch of things about people, things that I'm fairly certain she couldn't have discovered legally. A . . . friend recommended that I try and find some dirt on her."
Fleur tilted her head slightly. She had read many of Rita Skeeter's articles, and knew for a fact that what the boy had said was true.
"I assume you have a plan?"
Harry shrugged.
"Whenever there's a Hogsmeade visits Skeeter is always there. She's printed a bunch of nasty stuff about nearly everyone I know, and she doesn't give a damn about anything other than the number of reads she gets. I was planning on tailing her, trying to find out how she finds things that she shouldn't. I heard her telling her camera man that she was going to be watching Bagman today. I have a feeling she collects her information by means that aren't legal."
"What does this have to do with me?" asked Fleur uncaringly.
She was more than fine with joining him, regardless of the way she acted - largely thanks to her only other option being the immensely dull book to the left of her. Fleur suspected the offer had something to do with Skeeter having wronged her, which in itself was more than enough incentive for her to join.
Besides, there was virtually no risk, bar Fleur possibly being stared at by more people than she would have liked.
"She wrote some nasty things about you too." explained Harry, "And, well, I did promise you I'd see you around, didn't I?"
Fleur nodded, slowly getting up from where she was seated, and snapping the miserable book shut.
"I will join you." said Fleur coolly.
The two of them made their way back to the Beauxbatons Carriage, where Fleur deposited the book she had been reading. She quickly made her way out of the carriage, rejoining Harry.
"You know, in that article it said something about you blowing up your aunt." said Fleur, her cold voice accompanied by a slightly amused and superior smile.
"What a lovely way to start a conversation." Harry remarked.
They slowly began the walk to Hogsmeade under their disillusionment charms. The air was cold and damp, even if they themselves were rather warm (thanks to their warming charms). They eventually reached Hogsmeade a short ten minutes later.
"What now?" asked Fleur quietly, looking somewhere to her right, "This was your plan, I assume you know what to do."
"We go to the Three Broomsticks." said Harry on her left, "That's where Bagman always is."
The two of them made their way over to the Three Broomsticks, checking that the other was still there every few seconds. Thankfully, they could not be heard over the hundreds of voices that permeated through the village.
"I'm going to remove my Disillusionment Charm, so we can actually sit without someone trying to sit on us." said Harry.
"You realize you will attract quite a fair amount of attention?" asked Fleur coldly.
"Yeah, but I don't have an allure, so I'm the better choice out of the two of us. I'll keep my head down, don't worry."
Fleur huffed in annoyance, but allowed him to remove the charm. He ordered two butterbeers from the bartender, a rather attractive blonde witch. The two of them then made their way over to a table in the far corner, each taking one of the two seats.
"You should try the butterbeer, it's not as bad as the rest of our foods." said Harry, "But don't pick up the cup." he added hastily, "That would be kind of suspicious."
Fleur rolled her eyes, but still drank the golden-brown liquid. It was much better than she expected, filling her stomach with a pleasant warming sensation.
"I thought you might like it." muttered Harry.
"I never said that." argued Fleur quietly.
"That's how I knew." replied Harry, taking another sip from his cup.
Fleur rolled her eyes, allowing the smallest of smiles to grace her features, even if he couldn't see either action. Bending slightly to take another sip of her butterbeer, Fleur looked around the pub. It was nearly packed to the brim, mostly due to the number of students present. Her eyes paused as the suddenly spotted a witch in lime green clothing, her blonde hair curling at the tips.
"I found Skeeter." she muttered, her calm voice managing to hide the anger she felt.
"And I found Bagman." whispered Harry.
"We wait for them to leave, and then see what Rita does next." summarized Fleur, "Now that you brought it up, I think you are right. It would be near impossible to find out all the things she has without breaking any laws."
"Exactly." said Harry, "But I dunno how long they'll be here, we might have to wait a while."
The two of them sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping on their butterbeers.
"Why exactly are you doing this?" asked Fleur, "You do not seem to care much what others think of you."
Harry paused halfway through a sip of his drink, clearly thinking it through.
"For my entire life, trouble has always somehow found me." said Harry, "I thought it might be a change of pace if I finally reversed that for once. And you're basically the first person I thought of when I wondered who else should come with me, mostly because Rita was rude to you too."
Fleur nodded, not particularly caring that she couldn't see him. He could probably tell she was nodding anyway.
The pair of them chatted for a bit longer, their conversation a mix of cold superiority and minor insults (as well as many eye rolls from Fleur).
Although even I have to admit this isn't half bad.
"Bagman's leaving." Harry suddenly whispered.
Just moments prior, Bagman had been surrounded by a group of goblins. He was now making his way out of the pub, waving the goblins off. A second later, Rita Skeeter had packed her bag and left the pub.
"Come on." said Fleur, using her voice so Harry knew where she was, "Reapply your Disillusionment Charm."
Once Harry had done so, the two of them began to follow Rita out from the Three Broomsticks. She seemed to be following Bagman as he walked towards one of the less commonly frequented areas of the village.
"You know, I just realized." said Harry, "We still leave footprints."
Fleur turned around, quickly realizing that he was right. There was a track of print marking the way that they had come. The area was crowded to the point where their path was already being covered by the prints of others, but that would not be the case if they continued to follow Skeeter.
"Merde." Fleur swore quietly, "Walk in the footprints people have already made."
"It's a good thing we're disillusioned, we probably look like idiots." whispered Harry as he hopped from one footprint to the next.
After quite some time, Bagman stopped just outside the Shrieking Shack, looking around to make sure he was not being followed. As he did so, Rita quickly hid behind one of the many shacks. Harry and Fleur both instinctively hid as well before realizing that they didn't have to.
Upon spotting nobody, Bagman entered the shack through one of the newly formed tears in the wall. He quickly fixed the large tear he had entered through, leaving only a few small holes in the wall. Once he was out of sight, Rita did the same thing that Bagman had done, checking her surroundings. Upon spotting nobody, she quickly turned around, before her body suddenly collapsed on itself, turning her into -
" - a beetle." whispered Harry as he and Fleur looked on.
The newly formed beetle quietly zoomed off in the direction of the shack, no doubt in an attempt to spy on Ludo Bagman.
"She can not possibly be registered." declared Fleur coldly, "She is Britain's most popular reporter, thanks to all the dirt she digs up. If she were registered, everyone would know. She would not be allowed as a reporter either."
"Being an unregistered Animagus can get you anywhere between three to seven years in Azkaban." muttered Harry.
Fleur raised an eyebrow, before remembering that Harry could not see her.
"And how, exactly, do you know that?"
"I'm not an Animagus, if that's what you're asking." said Harry, "But I have met a few before."
"Who could you possibly know that is an unregistered Animagus?" questioned Fleur, her voice flooded with suspicion.
"Who knows?"
"Evidently, you do."
"Yeah, but I'm not about to tell you." remarked Harry, "You'd somehow find a way to use it against me, most likely in the tournament."
Fleur could not exactly disagree. Although it was true that she was rather interested in hearing the stories of Harry Potter out of pure curiosity, she couldn't equally claim that she would forget the information when it came time for the next task. Not that it would be of any use.
But Fleur had quite liked this adventure she had been on; if this was anything like what having a friend was, she would potentially be willing to place it before the Triwizard Tournament. Not that she would ever admit it, of course.
It might be nice to make a friend.
Fleur ignored the voice in her head, even if she knew it was true. She very dearly wanted a friend, someone she could count on.
Although if she were being honest with herself, it wasn't even friendship that she craved. It could be a romantic relationship or a friendship, or really anything else; it didn't really matter. It was simply the idea of being cared for, of truly being wanted by someone, and being able to return that feeling. The idea of someone wanting to be around her because of who she was, rather than who she appeared to be.
She had only ever experienced something similar with her family, but she was smart enough to know that was because she was a part of the family, and because they were of the same bloodline. That was not to say that Fleur didn't love her family; they mattered more to her than anything else in the world.
Regardless, she would not make an offer of friendship with anyone until she was sure she could trust them. She had seen many friends, including those once of the boy beside her, that had left their companions the moment something became complicated. That was not the way one should treat a friend, or anyone else they cared about.
"I suppose you'll be writing a letter to Ms. Skeeter sometime soon?" asked Harry, snapping her out of her thoughts. She looked back at the Shrieking Shack, from where several loud yells suddenly seemed to originate from.
"Without a doubt." said Fleur, her voice cold.
Harry made his way back to the castle alone, having just said goodbye to Fleur at the Beauxbatons Carriage. He was in a rather good mood at the moment; he had just solved one of his more annoying problems.
And it's all thanks to a beetle. Bagman and the beetle.
Harry walked happily into the Great Hall, ignoring the looks he got from others. He had not ventured into the Great Hall in more than a month. He supposed it was to be expected.
Harry had decided with Salazar that it was rather petty to avoid everything the school had to offer. That wasn't to say Harry would be returning to Gryffindor Tower or his classes, at least not any time soon (although perhaps the latter might change; staying within the chamber all the time was starting to get rather boring). But he would now occupy the Owlery, Great Hall, and grounds as often as he had the previous years, rather than only occasionally so as to visit Hedwig.
Unfortunately for Harry, the house tables remained as cramped as ever. Since it was dinner (the one meal when they all had to eat together) everyone was present; he would have to sit next to one or more of the Gryffindors.
He eventually ended up between Seamus and a fifth year girl he didn't know. The latter of the two kept glancing in his direction, an expression of obvious attraction upon her face.
Subduing a dragon must earn bonus points with witches. Who would have guessed?
More importantly, it seemed as though she was not deterred by the article printed by Rita Skeeter. That was somewhat relieving news for Harry. He was fine with being mostly left alone, but would certainly not enjoy the entire castle trying to kill him. He had dealt with that more than enough in his second year.
It seemed as though the article didn't have much of an effect on Fleur's admirers either. It seemed as though half the hall was stealing glances at her. Considering that about half the students were male, Harry wasn't entirely surprised.
That had been the main reason he had sat next to Seamus, who sat beside Ron, Dean, and the other fourth years. The young Irish wizard was far too busy staring at Fleur to annoy him.
Harry's first dinner back with the school went by fairly well. He tried to avoid glancing towards Fleur; if something about the day's events became public (likely due to an article Skeeter might write, something he was grateful he could now prevent), he wanted to make sure people wouldn't believe it. As far as most knew, he hadn't talked to Fleur in his life.
Although to be fair, I don't think most would particularly care. And if they did, they'd just be wishing it was them.
The looks that most of the students continued to send Fleur confirmed that.
There was even some form of entertainment during the meal. Ron, as well as many of the other Gryffindor males, were moving the bowels of French dishes into plain view, hoping that Fleur might come to request a platter. It wasn't a bad idea; the Beauxbatons students seemed determined not to share any food with Fleur.
Sure enough, Fleur eventually got up in search of food, before turning towards the Gryffindor table. For a split second, she looked in the direction of Harry and the other Gryffindor males, before rolling her eyes in a fashion similar to the way she had done earlier. She instead chose to walk over to a place on the table that was relatively empty, bar a few Gryffindor girls, and selected a few dishes.
Ron, Dean, and Seamus had angrily broken half a dozen utensils combined throughout the course of the meal.
After dinner Harry tried to make his way out of the hall as quickly as possible. He ignored the calls of several of the other students, instead quickly making his way out the large doors.
The reason he was in such a hurry to leave mainly revolved around Ginny. She had begun acting differently around him, occasionally sending him a smile or batting her eyelids. Harry had chosen to completely ignore those actions; the last thing he needed was Ron accusing him of leading his sister astray.
Harry liked Ginny, especially now that she wasn't making a fool out of herself, but not in that way.
Once he had made it into an empty hallway, Harry disillusioned himself and began to head off towards the second floor girl's bathroom. He gave a quiet good night to Myrtle, and began his journey into the chamber.
"How did it go?" asked Salazar once Harry had entered the study.
"Perfectly."
"Go on."
"Rita Skeeter is an unregistered Animagus." explained Harry, "That's how she's been collecting dirt on everyone. If she does anything again, I can have her shipped off to Azkaban."
"You wouldn't do that, you have too much of Godric's nobility in you." argued the portrait.
"Yeah, but Rita doesn't know that." said Harry with a grin, "Besides, I'm changing, according to Ollivander anyway. Anyway, Fleur's going to be sending her a letter soon, telling her that we know and to not write any more crap on either of us."
"How can you be sure this Fleur will include your name in the letter?" asked Salazar suspiciously.
Harry shrugged.
"She has no reason not to, unless she really hates me I guess. And besides, I could just send my own letter."
"Very well, moving on," began Salazar, stretching himself, "How was the wand weighing ceremony?"
"Alright, I think. I talked to Ollivander - he's a famous wandmaker. He told me that the bond between my wand is breaking. Also said something about me having two magical sources in me. I've been meaning to ask, is that part of the Mage mutation with my magical core? "
When Salazar did not immediately respond, Harry looked up at the portrait. The man within the frame had gone deathly pale, seemingly frozen in place. His jaw was hanging open to an incredible degree; if Harry ever wore that expression, Salazar would surely accuse him of besmirching the family name. Worst of all, his eyes seemed to be widened with panic, something Harry would have never expected to see.
"Two sources?" asked Salazar weakly.
"So I'm guessing that's not part of the Mage mutation." muttered Harry. He was starting to realize that whatever was wrong with him, it was either incredibly dangerous or serious, perhaps both.
Why did I think I could have just had a perfect day?
Salazar began to pace through his frame at a rapid pace, muttering curses in Parseltongue.
"Have you had any other experiences involving Riddle, other than the ones you've told me?" asked Salazar sharply.
"Er - what does he have to do with anything?" asked Harry, confused.
"Answer the question!"
"No, I don't think - wait, my scar hurts when he's around, or at least whenever something important happens to him - I think, anyway. And I've had a few dreams about him."
Salazar managed to pale further, his fist white from how tightly they were clenched. After quite some time, Salazar sat down in his painted chair, putting his head in his hands. Once he removed them, his expression was serious.
"Remove 'Secrets of the Darkest Arts', 'Magicke Moste Evile', and 'Letalis Magicae' from the shelf, and bring them to me. Use the spell I taught you that will allow voice commands to turn pages - I will need to read up on a few things."
Harry looked at Salazar curiously (and with a fair amount of dread), but did as instructed. The three books he pulled out were all incredibly old, each having spent at least a thousand years in existence. Their pages were stained yellow, their covers each coated in a fine sheet of dust.
"Is it something I should worry about?" asked Harry.
"That is what I am going to research." said Salazar, his voice somber, "Who knows? Perhaps it will be nothing, and I am simply being paranoid."
Salazar definitely didn't seem to believe it.
After setting up the books like the portrait had requested, Harry went into the chamber to practice his magic. If magic was truly like a muscle, Harry would be spending lots of time strengthening it.
Not having to worry about whatever Salazar had just seemingly discovered was merely an added bonus.