There wasn't any room to eat comfortably at the moment and between the elbows of Katie and his other neighbour Harry decided to wait until the table had begun to clear before eating. He had more time than most without any lessons later on in the day.
Everything around him went unnervingly quiet all of a sudden and a very soft, french accented voice spoke up in the silence. 'Do you still want the bouillabaisse?'
Bouillabaisse, Harry assumed, was the name of the untouched dish in front of him.
'Take it,' he replied, leaning out of the way of Katie, who swung the bowl dangerously over his lap, without looking up from his book.
'Merci,' the voice replied with an element of shock. Harry glanced up to catch a flash of platinum hair and Katie's awed stare.
'What?' he demanded.
'You're not acting like all those idiots,' she said, gesturing at the pair of fifth boys across from them who were still staring after the French girl.
Harry blinked, gave her a confused look, and then decided it was easier to read and continue trying his butterfly spell than puzzle out whatever Katie was talking about.
'Papilionis,' he murmured softly, drawing the wand action as carefully and gently as possible.
This time he managed to achieve a whole swarm of imperfect butterflies and those around him erupted in general disgust as they scattered across the table wreaking consternation.
'Sorry,' he apologised, after banishing them into black smoke. 'I wasn't expecting so many.'
'No more insects,' Katie growled. It seemed fair, especially since he had performed the incantation and wand movement perfectly and still not managed the spell. He would have to ask Salazar.
Another argument about butterflies beckons.
The food eventually vanished and Harry, who had only managed a few mouthfuls, was left feeling a little hungry.
'Now that our guests have arrived it is time we come to the main attraction of the year.' The headmaster approached the lectern at the head of the hall. 'It is time for the Triwizard Tournament to begin, but first, the rules.'
Dumbledore's words were largely lost on the hall as the majority of the students eyes were fixed on the goblet that now stood just in front of the lectern. An ancient, roughly hewn artefact made remarkable by the blue flames that twisted above it and the almost visible aura of magic projected around it. He glimpsed Ron staring at it with obvious, fervent desire. His friend's desire to stand out from his brother's and friends had grown stronger and stronger over the years.
'First of all it should be made very clear that nobody below the age of seventeen is allowed to enter.' The hall erupted into groans of disappointment and Harry was certain he heard the almost-seventeen Weasley twins complaining loudly.
'I have,' Professor Dumbledore continued, 'to ensure that no mishaps occur, taken the liberty of drawing an age line around the goblet here. Aside from that the tournament will proceed as it did before it was cancelled. Anyone wishing to be chosen as champion may enter their name into the goblet over the next two days and the names of the champions will be announced by it soon afterwards.'
Most of the table had already started searching for pieces of parchment, ink and quills as if the first few to enter might have some advantage. Harry pulled his book back out of the way of the ink bottles now scattered across the table.
It might be best if I went to the chamber, he decided.
It was loud in the Great Hall, the food was gone, and he was finding it hard to concentrate on his book or his butterfly shield spell. He made his way out, pausing only to overhear Ron launch into an outraged rant about the age restriction. His red-haired friend had been quite convinced that this would be the moment he stepped out of the shadow of his older brothers and made a name for himself.
As he had predicted Salazar's portrait had once again conveyed its dismay at his choice of butterflies.
'They're such feminine insects,' he moaned as his snake eyed the lone, imperfect conjuration that fluttered around Harry. 'Can't you use dragonflies, or bats, or anything more respectable.'
'Butterflies are simple and their wings cover a lot of area,' Harry defended for must have been the twentieth time since suggesting the spell, 'now are you going to help or sulk?'
'Salazar Slytherin does not sulk,' the portrait seethed, crossing its arms.
Of course he doesn't.
'What are you visualising?' the painting inquired.
'Butterflies, swirling around me in a sort of demi-sphere.'
'How are you picturing them forming?' Salazar pressed.
'I wasn't really,' Harry admitted, 'it never mattered for the bird-conjuring spell.'
'You're conjuring from air,' the portrait sighed. 'A single bird or insect you can probably get away with, but for lots you have to focus on them being created from the air beforehand. It's harder to conjure from such an insubstantial thing.'
'Papilionis,' Harry uttered and this time he imagined the butterflies growing from the air, curling together as if made from smoke.
He was abruptly engulfed in a tickling cloud of wings.
'That's very good,' Salazar enthused once they had all dispersed. 'Practice directing them as a shield and you could use them to deflect some types of curses as you wanted, or even transfigure them and use them as weapons.' The latter sounded like quite a good idea. The ancient portrait had already deduced that any duel-style he developed would likely be highly based around a few powerful spells, transfiguration and conjuration.
'You've spent a lot of time down here over the last month,' the founder realised in Harry's moment of quiet contemplation. 'And that's excluding the use of the time-turner.'
'My friends are all obsessed with the Triwizard Tournament,' Harry shrugged. 'I don't particularly enjoy talking about it constantly and I need to get much better at magic than I was.'
'Don't forget your friends,' the portrait warned. 'You'll need them, especially with your record of ending up entangled in anything dangerous nearby.'
'I haven't forgotten them,' Harry denied hotly, 'but it's hard to be with them when most of them don't do anything I find interesting and the only one who does resents having an competition.'
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