The weeks following the Yule Ball were rather pleasant in Harry's opinion. The majority of it was spent in the Chamber of Secrets with Salazar, as usual, working on furthering his wandless magic capabilities with Occlumency. It was not what most would consider appealing, but Harry wasn't like most.
He had been rather successful with his practice in the art, as far as he knew; just a few days ago he had wandlessly summoned Salazar's desk to him. He probably should have foreseen the desk knocking the wind out of him, but he still managed to summon it, and that was all that mattered to him. Salazar had not been particularly pleased with the occurrence, unfortunately; Harry was no longer allowed to perform magic of any kind upon the ancient object.
He had also begun working on banishing, something which Harry found was rather easy to accomplish - or at least much easier than summoning. Aiming, however, was a much more difficult task; thrice he had been berated by an angry Salazar for nearly breaking the portrait's frame in half.
His control over tier one wandless magic (elemental magic) was also improving, which Harry quite liked. He had taken to covering Salazar's frame in shadows whenever the portrait annoyed him, rendering Salazar incapable of seeing anything Harry did. Not that such a talent meant much; Harry didn't particularly understand how temporarily blinding the portrait could ever help him, but it was still quite amusing.
Harry had also progressed in his offensive and defensive magic, the former of which the Ministry considered to be 'dark magic'. After properly studying the magics in question, Harry had to agree with his ancestor's point of view: while the magic was certainly lethal, and definitely designed for combat, it was in no way 'dark'.
Harry still made sure to practice all other important aspects of magic regularly, such as transfiguration, charms, runes, and even potions. Harry had not trained particularly hard on any of these (or not to the extent he had with wandless, offensive, and defensive magic), but was still fairly certain that he was well above average in each of the subjects.
He knew himself to be above average in transfiguration, at the very least. Just a few days ago he had managed to transfigure a pebble into an animate replica of Salazar's dead basilisk. It had been nowhere near the same size as the real creature, and had not lasted for a particularly long time, but it was impressive all the same.
The best part about constantly using magic, in Harry's opinion, was that doing so naturally caused his magic to grow stronger, even if just by a small amount each time. He was now confident he could defeat the weaker Death Eaters out there, which was impressive for a fourteen year old.
The only reason he had not yet progressed further was due to a lack of dueling ability. He was sure he would have an aptitude in combat - he certainly understood the theory, after all - but the fact remained that he had not had a partner with whom he could learn to duel. Not until very recently, at least.
That one person was the biggest change to Harry's schedule, and part of the reason he had been so happy during the weeks that followed the Yule Ball. The one change to Harry's schedule revolved around Fleur Delacour, his fellow Triwizard Champion, and currently his only human friend.
Harry would meet Fleur by the lakeside quite often now, where they would spend time getting to know each other better. It was a rather long process, as the both had trust issues, but Harry was sure they would be able to figure everything out without much of a hitch.
Harry was pleased to note that he had been right about Fleur wearing a mask to hide her true self. She had not been nearly as cold as she usually was over the last few weeks, but rather kind and caring (and most of all, feisty). Not that this was new; even if she hid those aspects of her most of the time, they were always present behind the mask, just barely leaking through.
Harry was not sure how he felt about it. On one hand, he could not deny that the true Fleur, behind her mask, was beautiful - no doubt on par with her physical appearance. On the other hand, Harry was vaguely aware of how wrong such thoughts were, and not just because of their age gap.
A war was coming, and he knew it. He was already being selfish, choosing to spend so much time with Fleur - something that could quite possibly endanger her. But he did not stop meeting her, regardless of his myriad of emotions and thoughts. His yearning for another was far to powerful, something he did not wish to fight against.
A few days ago, both he and Fleur admitted that they had not yet solved the clue within the golden eggs they had retrieved from their respective dragons. They had agreed that they would not help each other out; it was a competition, and both wanted it to remain so, if only for their amusement.
It seemed to Harry as though his way of thinking had rubbed off on Fleur. She no longer fully believed she needed to win to prove herself, as she would be able to demonstrate her prowess easily thanks to the Recorder Glasses. Still, both Harry and Fleur felt that the Triwizard Cup would be a rather lovely addition to their inevitable victories, Fleur more so than Harry.
Not that that was saying much, as Harry was a bit more preoccupied worrying about Voldemort's horcruxes. Besides, Fleur was significantly more proud than Harry was, even if they were equally cold. That was not to say the Veela would have an easy time winning the tournament; Harry would not be going down easily, friends or not.
Harry currently lay upon his bed within the Chamber of Secrets, pondering heavily upon Voldemort's potential plans for resurrection. He had confirmed with Salazar that the ritual the portrait had previously spoken of was the only one capable of restoring someone who had made a horcrux back into a body. It was for that reason that Harry had studied the ritual thoroughly, learning as much as he could.
Salazar had informed Harry that Riddle murdered his father just weeks before the portrait had banished him from the chamber. He had used the death to create his second horcrux, which, according to Salazar, was a ring of some sort. The first horcrux had been a diary, which had apparently been created thanks to the death of a girl named Myrtle Warren, who currently went by the name of Moaning Myrtle.
Salazar had not known where the body of Riddle's father had been buried, but did know that Voldemort had kept it safe on the off chance that he would need it in the future. Harry would not be able to stop the ritual by destroying the bones of Voldemort's father, that was for sure.
As for the other two ingredients, both could be procured with relative ease. Harry was more than certain that there were Death Eaters out there willing to sacrifice an arm or a leg for their beloved master. As for the blood of a foe, Voldemort had many enemies. One could likely just walk into Diagon Alley and take blood from the first person they saw; it would more than likely be satisfactory enough.
Harry was particularly concerned with making sure that if the time ever came to pass, Voldemort would not end up using his blood in the ritual. Had he been raised with love and affection, Voldemort taking his blood could end up being a good thing. Unfortunately, that was not how he had been raised, and it was for that reason that his mother's blood ritual had slowly begun to fade. Even if one ignored all that, having Harry's blood within him gave Voldemort far too many advantages over himself, something Harry could not afford.
Getting up from his four poster bed, Harry made his way over to Salazar's portrait. It was early in the morning (as far as Harry knew), so he had to call out the portrait's name a few times before the man finally awoke.
"Yes?" asked Salazar in annoyance.
"I was wondering if you had any guesses as to what Riddle's other horcruxes were."
Salazar sat straighter up in his seat, seemingly pondering the question as deeply as Harry had.
"I can not be certain what they are, obviously, but I know that he was determined to create exactly seven." began Salazar, "He was interested in objects of immense value due to their history, particularly items belonging to the four founders of this school."
"I destroyed Riddle's diary with the Sword of Gryffindor." Harry remembered, "Do you think that might be one of them?"
"The sword could only be called upon by someone who demonstrated the true values of Gryffindor to the strongest degree. Had he been capable of calling upon it, I am sure he would have used it. But no, I do not believe the sword to be a horcrux."
"Which leaves the other three founders. I've never heard of anything belonging to you or Hufflepuff, but I think I heard something about Ravenclaw having a diadem, or something similar."
"Ah, the Diadem of Ravenclaw." recalled Salazar, "It was stolen from her by her daughter, and was lost to history before Rowena had even passed away."
"So that isn't a horcrux either." muttered Harry angrily.
"Unlikely, but there is always a chance." said Salazar, "Helena Ravenclaw - Rowena's daughter, that is - is one of the many ghosts wandering the castle. She was the one who stole the diadem nearly a thousand years ago."
"So it's possible." Harry concluded.
"Yes, it is indeed, although the chances of it truly being one are quite slim. As for myself and Helga . . . both of our prized possessions will have been handed down through our families, although I suppose mine would likely have been lost by now. A locket, given to me by my wife before she . . . passed."
The portrait paused, seemingly gathering his thoughts.
"Helga's was a sort of cup, which she enchanted with some of Caladrius' tears."
"And the cup?" asked Harry gently, not wanting to upset the portrait, "What is it, what happened to it?"
"Enchanted to greatly enhance the power of any potion contained within it." replied Salazar wistfully, "Worked on drinks, too. Godric once thought it would be funny to take Helga's cup while she taught the students, and drink pumpkin juice from it while she tore the school apart in her search to find it. Ended up overpowering the taste of the pumpkin juice. Godric never drank any of it again, tried to get it removed from the school kitchens."
"That's about the dumbest thing I've ever heard."
"Godric's angry rant afterwards was more dim-witted, I assure you." replied Salazar, his tone surprising one of fondness, "He hated pumpkin juice after that, and so Helga made sure that was the only drink besides water at the school. We could all be quite petty at times, I suppose."
"Moving back to the subject." said Harry in amusement, "We know of the diary, the ring, and myself. There's probably a few more, and they likely have some connection to you and the other founders, which means we have somewhere in between one and four horcruxes left to discover. Then we have to find them, destroy them, and finish up by defeating Voldemort in combat."
"Piece of plakous." commented Salazar sarcastically, causing Harry to raise an eyebrow, "I believe you call that cake now."
"Yeah, we probably do." said Harry, turning around to select a few books. He turned back, however, having suddenly remembered something.
"Won't Voldemort know I know about his horcruxes, if he finds out you taught me?" asked Harry.
"I doubt it." said Salazar, "The splitting of his soul will have caused him to lose a part of who he was. I doubt he even remembers where this chamber is. He still, however, will remember the general gist of his childhood, so you should remain cautious. He will not have forgotten me, nor my teachings."
Harry nodded, collecting a few books from the shelf of the chamber before settling down upon the floor, beginning his daily practice of Occlumency. It took a considerable amount of time (with Harry occasionally reaching six hours a day), but he was already capable of observing the result.
The further he delved into the art, the harder and longer it would take to master it. At the rate Harry was currently moving, Salazar had predicted him to have nearly mastered the art by June, although it would take much longer to achieve true perfection. Salazar had promised to begin teaching him Legilimency within a few months time, but only if he continued in his success with Occlumency.
Harry found his lessons in Occlumency to be rather irritating, although the benefits greatly outweighed that. The better part of every session was spent by Harry attempting to clear his mind. Unfortunately, whenever his mind was nearly blank, Harry would begin to get annoyed, which technically meant Harry's mind was no longer blank (as he was now thinking of how annoyed he was). It made mastering the art a particularly hard one to master, but it wasn't as though Harry planned to quit.
"You look exhausted." commented Salazar dully as Harry made his way back into the study. While Harry was not covered in sweat, or physically sore, his mind was rather tired at the moment. Harry placed the books back into their respective shelves before taking a seat on the carpeted floor.
"I was wondering if you could explain the theory behind using Occlumency to protect the mind." said Harry tiredly, "I'm fairly successful with controlling my emotions and will at this point; I could improve, of course, but I can worry about that later. But even now I still have no clue on how to protect my mind from someone using Legilimency."
"Ah, a theory lesson." said Salazar brightly, before continuing in a sarcastic voice, "Lovely. Now, tell me, what do you think would be used to protect your mind?"
"I've heard the term 'mental shield' before, so I would assume it has something to do with creating a barrier in front of the mind?"
"The pitfalls of your generation continue to astound me." snapped Salazar, "Occlumency, when used to protect the mind, is the art of clearing the mind. That way, if someone were to peer into your mind, they would find nothing."
"So it doesn't actually stop the Legilimency probe?" asked Harry with disappointment.
"It does, in a way." answer the portrait, "The blankness of the mind is too much for a Legilimency probe to handle. It will almost always terminate the probe."
"So I should already be capable of protecting my mind?" asked Harry, his voice now holding a slight amount of excitement.
"I suppose so, yes." replied Salazar, "Mind you, it certainly wouldn't be enough to keep out a true master of Legilimency, which Riddle is, for longer than a second, but you have time to improve as the months pass."
"Brilliant." said Harry happily, casually cleaning his robes with a silent wave of his wand.
"I need to get going." Harry informed the portrait, "Fleur and I are supposed to be meeting Rita today in the local pub, should be exciting."
"It is January 14th already? Have you yet decided what it is you will be requesting?"
"Just to leave me alone, I suppose." said Harry with a shrug, "I don't particularly wish to blackmail her or anything, I just would prefer she stopped making inaccurate comments on myself. Fleur can do whatever she wants."
"You are acting like a noble Gryffindor once again." Salazar reprimanded, "Where is your cunning? You could get a fair bit from her to keep you quiet."
"She's a reporter." replied Harry in a deadpanned voice, "What could she possibly offer me? And I can't ask for her to make me look too good for the press, it won't get approved by the editors. They want something that sells, and me being normal isn't exactly going to make them money."
Salazar scratched the bottom of his goatee, pondering for a few moments before he conceded that Harry had a point.
"Refrain from doing anything overly idiotic!" called Salazar as Harry departed from the chamber.
"I'll be fine."
Fleur Delacour sat upon the snow-covered shores of the Great Lake as per usual, waiting for her companion to join her. They were to depart in just a few minutes, after all, to head over to the Three Broomsticks and 'bargain' with the nosy reporter.
The last few weeks had gone by rather quickly for Fleur, and she was honestly surprised to give merit to the phrase 'time flies when you're having fun'. While her schedule had been more or less the same as usual, a few hours everyday were now spent in the company of one Harry Potter, more often than not in the place she sat at this very moment.
The two champions had spent most of their time together getting to know the other. While they both yearned for companionship, the fact still remained that they did not know the other all too well. They were both slightly hesitant to trust another so easily, which led to the process taking longer than it likely should have.
Still, they were certainly making progress. They no longer awkwardly sat beside the other in silence, hastily attempting to create a conversation. In fact, Fleur would not even deny that she immensely enjoyed Harry's company, and was sure he felt the same. If taking time to properly know the other meant that their bond would be stronger, than so be it.
There was also the fact that despite trying to convince herself otherwise, Fleur felt slightly attracted to the younger boy. She was certain he felt something similar, given the events of the Yule Ball, but neither had brought up the subject. The fact remained that Harry was a fourteen year old, something that was rather hard to ignore.
Fleur had been very pleased when she had seen the copy of the Daily Prophet that covered the Yule Ball. Rita Skeeter had not been foolish enough to risk writing the article, resulting in another, more honest reporter taking the job instead. There were still a few unflattering comments (all of which were exaggerated, likely to attract readers), but it was much better than Fleur had expected.
The article had featured a picture of the four champions (as well as Krum and Cedric's respective dates), not highlighting one pair over the other. The article that followed had been more interested in Fleur and Harry than the others, but not in an unhealthy way; it merely pointed out the 'international cooperation' that was being perfectly displayed, and other such things.
Witch Weekly, unfortunately, had not been nearly as kind. Not that Fleur cared; none of her family nor friends (although she supposed that friend was the more apt word) read Witch Weekly. The only reason Fleur had even discovered the article in the first place was thanks to Eloise, Clara, and Juliette, all of whom seemed to be immensely pleased with the article's strong choice of words.
They were not nearly as pleased when they saw my date to the Yule Ball.
It was certainly true; even in France, the name Harry Potter was known by just about every magical being, and that was likely the case in most other places as well. It likely had something to do with the fact that, regardless of what the British said, they had very obviously been losing their war before Voldemort had been defeated.
He was also the heir to the Potter fortune, which was known to be a very wealthy family. Him being a Triwizard Champion also didn't hurt, or at least not since the first task.
And the second task isn't far from now either.
Fleur had not yet worked out her clue, something she was not proud to admit. While she had not been particularly worried before, the second task seemed much closer after the new year than it had before.
"Miss Delacour." said a voice from behind Fleur, one that she recognized instantly.
"Mr. Potter." she replied without moving. Sure enough, once she had turned around she was met by none other than Harry Potter, currently adorned in his school robes.
"Remind me why you bother to wear those." said Fleur with a soft smile, nodding towards Harry's robes, specifically the Gryffindor patch just above his heart.
"Just because I don't want to spend time with Gryffindor students doesn't mean I have a problem with the house itself." replied Harry, "Besides, take of the patch and these become plain black robes. People will start thinking I'm a dark wizard - not that some don't already."
The two of them began their walk into Hogsmeade, chatting occasionally. They both wore hoods (which covered their faces). Harry also decided to obscure his Gryffindor patch, ignoring Fleur's amused comments on 'joining the darkness'.
Harry quickly noticed that neither of them attracted much attention, something which he quite liked. Apparently being unable to properly see Fleur deeply weakened her allure, although it did not quite nullify it. As they walked towards the village, Harry was sure he saw more than one male curiously gaze in their direction, if only for a fraction of a second.
As the pair approached the Three Broomsticks, they both covered themselves in Disillusionment Charms. They would have to sneak into a room Rita had privately booked; it would not be good for them to be seen by anyone other than the reporter.
The popular pub was filled to the brim with both Hogwarts students and a fair number of older customers. There was not a single empty table (that Harry or Fleur could see), which was fortunate considering that they would not be needing one. They made their way to the front of the pub where they quickly spotted Rita sitting alone by the counter.
Fleur silently made her way up to the British reporter before bending down to meet the reporter's seated height.
"We are ready, Miss Skeeter." she whispered coldly.
Rita flinched violently upon hearing Fleur's voice, though thankfully nobody seemed to notice. She stood up from her seat, dusted of her lime green robes, and made her way over to Madam Rosmerta.
"Nice of you to scare Skeeter like that." Harry muttered, although Fleur knew he didn't care in the slightest.
"If I really wanted to scare her, her robes would be on fire by now."
Harry and Fleur both followed Rita, ears strained to catch the conversation she held with the attractive bartender.
" - would like to use my prepared room."
"Yes, it is ready for you . . . need anything?"
"No, that will be all."
Madam Rosmerta nodded before leaving the counter, hastily removing a key from the back wall and handing it over to Rita.
"That will be room seven, your hour will begin once you've entered the room."
Skeeter silently grabbed the key from Rosmerta before heading towards the small hallway near the back of the pub. The hallway was not unlike those in the Railview Hotel Harry had been to just before his eleventh birthday; they were mostly plain with doors that were each separated by a few feet.
Rita stopped upon reaching a door near the back of the hall, which was marked with a golden seven. She quickly inserted the key, pushing the door open. The room was identical to the one Harry had entered during his third year, when he had been spying on Professor McGonagall, Flitwick, Rosmerta and Fudge talking about his godfather.
Rita carefully placed her handbag to her side before looking around the room. Once They were sure the door had been closed properly (and had silently added a few wards of their own), Harry and Fleur removed their Disillusionment Charms, each sitting upon the couch just across from the reporter.
"Good afternoon." said Fleur, her usual cold tone still prevalent. Rita's eyes narrowed at the action, but she wisely said nothing.
"Straight to business." said Harry, "We happen to know a few things about you, as I'm sure you're well aware. I'm sure you're also aware that the fine for being an unregistered Animagus is three to seven years in Azkaban."
Rita paled significantly, but nodded.
"You have been writing many false statements about us." noted Fleur, "Claims that we have potentially broken the law. That is to stop."
"You realize blackmail is a punishable offence as well." said Rita.
"We are merely requesting you do your job correctly." snarled Fleur, "Which is to report truthfully, and to not mislead your readers."
"Please, we're reporters!" Rita half-screamed, "Of course we have a few false statements here and there, how else do we gain readers?"
"You have more than a few." said Fleur coolly, "Besides, it is your choice. We are not forcing your hand at all."
Rita sat angrily in her armchair for a few moments, before her cheeks tightened slightly.
"Fine." she forced out, "I leave you alone, you remain quiet?"
"Precisely." replied Harry.
"Then I want assurance that you will keep my secret." said Rita, her eyes narrowed.
"You will not be getting that." replied Fleur haughtily, "Otherwise we would have nothing to keep you in check, would we?"
Rita grasped her armchair tightly, practically fuming. After a few minutes, she seemed to have come to some realization.
"I could file for registration." said Rita smugly.
"Which would take somewhere in between three to five years." noted Fleur lazily, "And would also likely result in the loss of your job."
Rita's features tightened once more; it seemed as though she were beginning to understand the situation.
"You request that I leave only you two alone?" asked Rita.
"As well as anyone we care about, obviously." said Harry.
Rita once more sat in silence for a few minutes, clearly pondering the conditions she had been presented with. After she had finished, she turned back to the two champions before her.
"As long as it isn't negative?" she questioned, "You are two of the four champions, and you," she continued, nodding towards Harry, "are Harry Potter, the Harry Potter. I feel I should be allowed to write anything, as long as it isn't too far off the mark."
"I think that should be fine." said Harry, reviewing her words in his head, "So long as you don't falsify information against us or the people we care about, I don't really care."
After Fleur expressed a similar sentiment, both she and Harry shook hands with the reporter, who quickly exited the room at the first chance she got.
"She seems to be in a rush." said Harry as he and Fleur exited the room, "How did you know it takes three to five years to register?"
The two of them recovered themselves in Disillusionment Charms once more, watching Rita as she made her way out of the pub as quickly as possible.
"My father is the head of the French DMLE." replied Fleur with a smile, "Why, did your mysterious illegal Animagus friend forget to mention it?"
"More like he never planned on applying in the first place, but I suppose that's close enough."
The two of them made their way into the crowd of the pub, removing their Disillusionment Charms (and making sure their hoods were up). They quietly purchased two butterbeers from the bar (a drink Harry knew Fleur was beginning to like, regardless of what she said), and sat down within one of the newly opened booths.
"Does Beauxbatons have their own equivalent of Hogsmeade?" asked Harry curiously as he took a sip from his butterbeer.
"Non, we do not." said Fleur, "But our castle is more majestic, and offers more courses, so it is fair."
"What extra courses are there?"
"Enchanting, dueling, healing, politics, and offensive magic." she answered, "I personally take enchanting, dueling, and offensive magic."
"By offensive magic, you mean what our ministry calls 'dark magic'?" asked Harry, causing Fleur to raise an eyebrow.
"I'm not as foolish as the ministry." said Harry, "I was just wondering."
"You are correct, it is considered 'dark magic' by your ministry." replied Fleur, "But in reality, it is merely a branch of magic that can be used to attack. Nothing particularly lethal - nowhere near the unforgivables - but still useful."
After another ten minutes, the two champions finished their drinks and made their way out of the pub. Harry took the time to discreetly show Fleur around the village; the last time the two of them had been here they had been a bit preoccupied. Harry found it rather amusing that they had been chasing after Skeeter that time as well; it was almost becoming a sort of tradition.
Harry was pleased to see that Fleur enjoyed the village. She seemed to hate Madam Puddifoot's shop just as much as he did, which was certainly refreshing. They eventually began the journey back to Hogwarts an hour and a half later, once Fleur had seen the village to its entirety.
"See you tomorrow." said Harry as he and Fleur arrived at the Beauxbatons Carriage. They were both disillusioned once more, having done so just after arriving within the Hogwarts Grounds (as they were not at all interested in being spotted together). Regardless, they could both still see each other's outlines if they looked carefully enough, and both therefore knew where the other was.
"See you." replied Fleur, leaning over to give Harry a small peck on both cheeks. She chuckled as Harry's Disillusionment Charm fell due to a lack of focus before making her way into the carriage.
Harry stood rooted to his spot, unmoving, his jaw wide opened.
"Watch it you bloody bastard!" Salazar roared in Parseltongue as a large rock zoomed past his portrait, shattering itself against the wall.
It was nearing midnight, just hours after Harry had ventured with Fleur into Hogsmeade for a second time.
"Believe it or not, I'm not trying to kill you!" replied Harry, "Or destroy your canvas - I don't suppose I can kill you considering you're not really alive."
"Yes, well, in case you didn't know, portraits can not be fixed!" yelled Salazar, causing Harry to raise his eyebrows.
"Ah, but of course, your generation remains as ignorant as ever." said Salazar dryly.
"In what class would they possibly teach us about portraits?"
"How am I to know, you attend them."
"You created them!"
"You're changing the subject," said Salazar, "A portrait can not be fixed, not by any form of healing or mending charm. It is like a horcrux in that way, only that it is infinitely easier to destroy."
"But if I destroyed your portrait, wouldn't you still have the other one out in the chamber?" questioned Harry.
"No. All true portraits are connected. I could move from this one to any other connected portrait frame, but if any are destroyed, I am gone."
"How many other portraits of you are there?"
"Just the one in the chamber." replied Salazar, "There may be other ones out there, but they are magical photos rather than portraits. They hold little to no sentience. There can only ever be up two portraits of someone at a time; anything else would overload the magic involved."
"Fine, then help me with this so I don't accidentally break you." said Harry, nodding towards the pile of rocks beside him. Harry had spent the better part of an hour trying to levitate them properly, one at a time (as there was absolutely no way he would be capable of anything more just yet).
After returning from Hogsmeade, he had managed to properly aim with his banishing, and had therefore moved on to levitating. Unfortunately, the stress of wandlessly levitating fairly large rocks was causing Harry to accidentally use his other forms of wandless magic; when it was banishing, it endangered Salazar, when it was summoning, it endangered him, and when it was elemental magic, it seemed to endanger them both.
"Again."
Harry swung around, the fingers of his right hand pointing slightly upwards. The three smallest rocks all slowly began to increase in height, only stopping when Harry's fingers lowered, causing him to stare at his hand in interest. The moment he did, the three stones fell to the ground with a loud crash.
"Hand motions are the wandless version of wand movements." explained Salazar from behind him, "They are unnecessary, but make your goals significantly easier."
"So if I were to use a spell, would I make the same motion I would normally do with my wand, only with my hand?" asked Harry.
"Oh, no, you can not use spells with wandless magic." said Salazar, "No curses, hexes, or jinxes of any kind. You can not just shoot beams of energy out of your finger tips."
"What?" asked Harry in surprise, "Then what is Elemental Magic?"
"Tier one wandless magic is merely releasing magic from your body. Elements are created from saturated magic. That is why this is the first level of wandless magic; all one does is release their magic from their bodies. It will then automatically take on the form of whatever element suits them best. Mages, such as yourself, can even force their magic to release in different ways, creating different elements."
"And tier two?"
"Magics such as banishing, summoning, and telekinesis. Magics that move or misplace an object or person, but do not actually affect them."
"And what comes next?" asked Harry curiously, observing his hands with interest.
"Tier three, charms. With charms, you do not create a beam of magic. Instead of aiming your magic in the direction of what you wish to manipulate, you suffocate the object with your magic, affecting them, but not altering them. That is what a charm does, after all. To alter them would be tier four wandless magic, transfiguration. As you might have noticed, transfiguration also does not require a beam of magic."
"Is there a tier five?" asked Harry, watching as Salazar tilted his head to the side.
"Tier five is the final tier of wandless magic, but it is rather loose in definition." explain the portrait, "It is essentially any form of wandless magic that is a combination of multiple different tiers, or just a very advanced wandless magic from any tier."
"So, say I were to transfigure the air around me into a snake made of fire - " began Harry before he was interrupted by the portrait.
"A combination of elemental magic and transfiguration. A good example." said Salazar from within his frame.
"What about flight?" asked Harry curiously.
"A particularly advanced form of tier two wandless magic. Another excellent example."
Harry turned around, attempting to wandlessly levitate the largest of the stones before him, causing it to float for a split second before it caught fire.
"You must stop accidentally using other forms of wandless magic." reprimanded Salazar, "Your mind is not sufficiently focused on the task; if it were, you could not possibly be achieving such poor results!"
"That's not particularly helpful." complained Harry.
"What is it you wish for me to say?" questioned Salazar, "Your mind is insufficiently focused, you know how to fix that, so do it. Or is there something in particular that is causing you to lose focus?"
Harry's expression of annoyance was more than enough to answer Salazar's question.
"You were gone with the Veela the entire day and . . . bloody hell." said Salazar, switching to Parseltongue as he finished his sentence, "But you are immune to her passive allure! You said you could not so much as feel it affecting you!"
"It doesn't affect me." said Harry, before muttering something incomprehensible.
"What's that?" asked Salazar, prompting Harry to speak louder.
"She kissed me. Only on the cheeks, but that's definitely the first time anyone's ever done that."
Salazar nodded in what appeared to be understanding, although his next words certainly suggested the opposite.
"Ah, I see. Ensnared by the Veela, eh?"
"Oh shut up, you tosser." moaned Harry, turning around to hide the blush growing upon his cheeks.
The portrait and the young fourth year continued on in their conversation, neither paying attention to the chessboard on the other side of the room. The half finished silver king that sat upon it slowly continued to grow, its molten material glowing beautifully within the darkness of the study.