– –

Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. It belongs to JKRowling.

First Beta pass by Clemex

– –

He leaned back in the plush velvet armchair and sighed with heavy frustration. He fingered the book that lay rested in his lap. His tiny, bony hands were dwarfed by the ancient tome, but this wasn't because the book was especially large – rather, he was frustratingly small.

The homunculus he had crafted for himself had taken the greater part of the last year and a half to complete, and even then, it's completion wouldn't have been possible if he hadn't acquired Wormtail's services. A fact which he was loath to admit.

He was finally in a physical form that was not constantly on the brink of dissolving or dying, and he had access to his own magic once again – although it was unstable, and use of it exhausted him quickly.

He

hated

existing like this. It was a tease. Granted, it was better than that half-life he had existed in before this – but he was

so close, and yet so far away from being returned to a fully functional body and finally being able to focus back on his tasks. Being in this form gave him a taste of what it was like to finally have a body back, but the body itself was so pathetic and weak, it only served to frustrate and anger him.

He needed the boy's blood to properly complete the ritual he had designed. He couldn't afford to allow that ridiculous protection of his to continue, and only the use of the boy's blood would do that. He had to admit that he did not fully understand the nature of the protection gifted to the boy by his mother. That ignorance frustrated and angered him greatly.

He feared that it's existence, and the mystery behind it, were in some way linked to that damned prophecy. He needed to rid himself of that threat so that he could resume his work! It was too important for him to be vanquished by some ignorant child, who was only acting blindly on the orders of that frustratingly mad old man!

But waiting for the right opportunity to act was maddening.

And to compound things, he was bored. Horribly, terribly bored.

He looked back down at the book in his lap and sighed. He had read it decades ago. Rereading it now was only mildly interesting. He wanted to send Wormtail to fetch some more books, but he couldn't risk his servant being seen by the public. It was already risky enough when he sent him into the nearby muggle village to fetch supplies and things. He would have to wait until Barty was able to return to him again.

Ah, Barty... unrelenting loyalty. The man worshiped him, unquestioningly. He had been so fortunate to discover his servant was still alive and well... or as well as one can be after several years in Azkaban and then many more years under the imperius, locked away in his father's home. Despite Barty's mildly questionable sanity, he knew he could rely on Barty's loyalty.

Wormtail, in contrast, stayed entirely out of his own cowardice. The man was terrified of his own shadow. It was pathetic. He wished he could call a more competent servant to his side, but he could not risk it. Not yet. He was still too weak, and his servants were all too power-hungry and ignorant of the bigger picture. If they sensed his weakness they could easily try to take advantage of it, and he would be in no position to stop them. And then he would have to start this entire frustrating process over again like he had after the Brat had destroyed Quirrell.

Stupid, pathetic Quirrell. But he had still made a better servant that Wormtail. He sneered the name with utter disgust in his mind. It was such a sad, pathetic state of affairs that he had been reduced to relying on such a loathsome little rat. Disgusting.

Soon... soon he would be returned to his full glory. He would gather his old followers and retain new blood. He needed to restore power to the dark and dismantle the mountain of damage that the fool, Dumbledore had caused in his blind lunacy.

He could only hope he was not too late. His work was imperative, had he felt the crush of time working against him. He had to complete his tasks and set things back into balance, or they would all be doomed, light and dark together. How Dumbledore could willingly ignore the signs of his own idiotic destruction was beyond him. The man was a fool. His ideals would damn them all.

And he would not go down with the muggles. No. He would fight to return magic to it's rightful place, even if he had to claw his way there, tooth and nail. It was his sworn duty, and he would neglect that duty no longer.

He just needed time... But time was working against him. It had been working against him for so, damn, long.

He sighed in frustration again, wishing he could find a way to speed things up. He dug deep inside himself to touch upon the darkest of his magics. The magic that was his, and his alone. The magics that he was gifted by Magic herself as a part of his task.

This magic had never left him, but without corporeal form, there was little he could do with it. At least it had provided him with the strength to pull his homunculus together.

He pulled the magic out and swirled it around himself, relishing in the knowledge that he could still do this, at least. And he would only grow in strength as time passed.

Ah... there it was again. Time. Always time. Everything took time, and yet he had so little patience left.

He pulled out another surge of the magic and chuckled lightly at the rush it filled him with. This was power. Power that only he could properly wield.

Lovely delicious power. And he would use it to restore the world to the way it was meant to be. He just needed time.

– –

Harry woke with a gasp that instantly shifted into a moan as his back arched off the bed. Magic rushed through him in his startled state and it danced along his skin like little sparks of lightening.

As he regained his focus the surge dissipated like a pleasant breeze and he let out a breathy sigh. He blinked through heavy lids and furrowed his brow as he tried to sift through his memories to make sense of what had just happened.

He was being held by his

companion. They had stood there together for... for ages. And it had been wonderful...

And then... and then, he was sitting in that study again. The chair was nice. The fabric had been elegant and soft and there was a fire in the fireplace to the left. He was reading a book.

What a brilliant book... fascinating things...

things...

I wonder if there's a place in school where I could try out a few of those spells...

But he had felt bored with it. He had read it before... long ago... and his sense of impatience with having to wait had been too frustrating to allow him to focus on the blasted book. He needed...

Harry sat up.

Bloody hell!

It had felt so real. He remembered it as if it had been he, himself, there. Hell, he had sat here for nearly three solid minutes going over the memories before he even realized he was Voldemort!

Harry shook his head.

No!

No, he wasn't Voldemort. He had simply been seeing through Voldemort's eyes.

And hearing his thoughts.

Thinkinghis thoughts. As if they were my own. Thoughts and feelings that had felt entirely my own. And the

magic!

It was... it was incredible!

Harry felt shaken and took in a deep breath. He wished his companion was there. He didn't like the way he felt just then. He wrapped his arms around himself, missing the warmth of being in his companion's embrace.

He wanted that warmth back. He

needed it.

Needed it so he didn't feel alone. He didn't want to feel alone anymore. Never alone. Never again.

Just as his body was beginning to shake and shiver with his irrational wave of loneliness, the presence appeared in his mind and he sighed in relief.

Harry...?

"You're here," Harry breathed in a whisper as he smiled and let himself fall back against his pillows.

What... happened?

Harry shook his head and laughed weakly at the ridiculousness of his almost-panic attack.

"I'm okay,"

Harry thought in his mind.

What happened?

His companion repeated, his silken voice more steady now.

"I... I had a vision."

You saw... through his eyes...?

Harry nodded his head, even though he was laying in his bed all alone and conversing with a person inside his mind.

"Yes."

This... upset you? Did you see something... you didn't like?

Harry shook his head and sighed.

"No, nothing like that. He was just sitting in the lounge reading. I think what really upset me was that I didn't even realize it was him and not me. I should be able to tell the difference between his mind and mine... you know?"

Do not dwell on it. Harry.

It is over...

...I am here.

Harry smiled as he felt the warmth of his companion embrace his mind, and a glorious shudder danced through his belly at the silken breathy words.

Finally Harry pushed himself out of bed and pulled back the hangings on his bed. His dorm mates were all still asleep. It was early, but a quickly cast tempus told him that breakfast would be served in an hour. He could take a nice long shower and soak up the hot water without having to share the bathroom with his dorm mates – all of whom tended to sleep till the last possible minute.

Harry collected his toiletries, pulled on a loose robe over his boxers and made his way into the bathroom.

He set his things aside and stripped down. He turned and his eye caught the mirror to the side and for some reason... he stopped. He stood there and looked at himself. He rarely did this. He didn't like looking at himself. Harry had never had a very positive self-image. A decade of malnourishment and neglect had left him scrawny and boney. He was short for his age too, and he knew it was entirely the result of being denied proper food for so long.

He had decent enough muscle tone. Years of manual labor around the Dursley's house and yard, compounded with three years of Quidditch had at least given him that. But he was still disgustingly thin. He could easily see his ribs and his collarbones were too obvious.

He wondered suddenly if there was something he could do about it with magic. He

was

a wizard, after all!

But a glamor wouldn't be sufficient. He didn't want to hide, or disguise his appearance. He wanted to actually fix it. Correct the damage done by those disgusting muggle pigs.

Potions...

The voice whispered and he blinked in surprise and then blushed lightly. He had forgotten that he wasn't really 'alone' in the bathroom. Here he was, standing totally starkers in front of a mirror...

The presence chuckled at his sudden wave of bashfulness, and Harry managed to recover and quickly turned away from the mirror. He walked over to the shower, started the water and ducked under the spray. It was the perfect temperature. It was always the perfect temperature.

I love magic...

Harry began to lather shampoo into his hair and refocused on what his companion had said.

"So a potion, huh?"

He mentally asked.

There are... several. Must be taken... schedule. Over time.

Harry nodded his head. That made sense. If it was going to be a real physical change, it probably wouldn't be instantaneous. It was probably better if it was a gradual change, anyway. If he suddenly changed overnight, people would notice.

I will guide you... to the books. Go to the... library... later.

Harry grinned.

He was looking forward to this. The prospect of being able to fix at least something that the damned

muggles

had done to him left him with an eager skip to his step. He quickly finished with the bathroom and returned to his dorm. He dressed in his robes and slipped out and headed for breakfast. There were still several hours before Transfiguration. If he ate quickly enough, he could probably do some quick book searching before he had to be to class.

– –

His visit to the library had been partially successful. He had left with two different books on potions but the one that would be the most useful was apparently in the restricted section. He planned to come back that night with his invisibility cloak. He probably could have gotten permission from one of his teachers to search the restricted section for something to aid him prepare for the next task, but he still had absolutely no idea what the next task was, since he still couldn't figure out what to do with the blasted egg.

He needed to figure that out soon too...

Harry rushed through the halls, half-sprinting, towards the Transfiguration classroom. He had lost track of time and class would be starting soon. He bolted in through the door just as the chime rang and he quickly slipped into a seat in the back row, heaving a sigh of relief.

Hermione was turned around in her seat, looking at him with concern and a bit of obvious disapproval at arriving so late. Her glare was broken when McGonagall cleared her throat and called the class to attention.

Instead of heading straight into lecture mode, however, McGonagall announced that the sign-up sheet for those staying in the school over the holidays had just been posted in the common room.

"Now before you all make your decision, I should let you all know of one very important development for this year's holiday festivities. This year, Hogwarts will be playing host to a Yule Ball," McGonagall paused and looked around the room of Gryffindors. The girls' eyes all lit up with excitement, while the boys' faces filled almost instantly with dread.

"The Yule Ball, as the name denotes, is first and foremost,

a dance.

It will be held on Christmas Eve, and anyone in fourth year and above is welcome to attend. Third years can attend if they have a date from forth or above."

At this point, eager whispering and tittering had filled the room, but a sharp glare from McGonagall brought silence to the room.

A few minutes more passe and McGonagall had concluded her announcements and started the actual transfiguration lesson. Harry wasn't sure exactly what to think of the Yule Ball. He had absolutely no desire to deal with some damned dance and wondered if he could get away with just skipping the thing, even though he would be staying for the holidays. He quickly refocused on the actual classwork, and had almost completely forgotten about the Yule Ball when class drew to a close.

"Mr. Potter, please stay behind," McGonagall said, as Harry began to pack up his book, parchment and quill. Harry frowned but nodded and finished collecting his things and went over to stand by her desk.

"You wanted something, Professor?" Harry asked as soon as the last student had left the room.

"Yes. I wanted to inform you that, as one of the Tri-Wizard champions, you and your date will be expected to partake in the traditional waltz at the start of the ball. Are you going to be in need of assistance preparing for this? I will be holding dancing lessons this weekend for those students who need them."

Harry blinked.

"Wait... do I

have

to go to the ball?" Harry asked quickly.

McGonagall pursed her lips and frowned. "Yes, Mr. Potter. Of course. You are one of the champions. Your attendance is mandatory."

Harry groaned, and internally grumbled.

Great... just great.

"Oh... alright," he mumbled, trying to push aside some of his bitter irritation. He sighed heavily and looked back up at his professor. "Um... yeah, I guess I'll probably need those... lessons," he said in a flat, grumble.

"Alright, Mr. Potter. The dancing lesson will be held Saturday at 3pm."

Harry gave her a rather fake smile and his thanks and bid her farewell before racing from the room and making his way to Defense.

– – –

"Blimey, mate! Can you believe it? A dance! Ugh!" Ron said as he sat down heavily on the bench beside him that evening at dinner.

Harry looked over at Ron with a raised eyebrow but didn't immediately respond. Ron had tried this tactic several times already; talking to Harry as if nothing had ever happened between them, in hopes that Harry would act the same as before and they could go back to the way things used to be.

Harry sighed heavily, resigning himself to the tedium of a conversation with his ginger dorm mate. He wasn't going to take the boy back as a friend, but even Harry realized that he had been terribly anti-social lately. He barely spoke to

anyone

outside of mandatory class interactions. Burning every bridge he had was not a wise tactic. He didn't personally care what people thought of him, but he wasn't stupid enough to think that social standing and public opinion didn't matter.

"Yeah... a dance," Harry said unenthusiastically as he stabbed his fork through a pork sausage.

Ron's face lit up slightly with hope at finally having gotten some sort or response out of Harry and he pressed on. "So I guess this means we have to get dates, then."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Dates," he grumbled and frowned. He really didn't like that idea at all. He wasn't even vaguely interested in anyone in the school. Forcing himself to ask some random girl, he didn't even give a damn about, on a date was just annoying.

"Any idea who you want to ask?" Ron asked, desperately trying to prod the conversation forward.

Harry sighed and leaned away from the table slightly. He looked around the great hall, hoping that his eyes would just fall upon a good candidate right then and there and save him the hassle of having to actually

think

about it.

His brief search wasn't coming up with anything and he sighed, resigned to having to actually put some thought behind this choice when he caught sight of a gaggle of blue robes, lead at the head by Fleur Delacour.

Harry grinned. "Maybe I'll ask Fleur," he snickered before looking back down at his plate and doing another violent thrust of his fork into the poor defenseless sausage.

Ron hiccoughed in shock, choking slightly on his pumpkin juice, and looked at Harry as if he were mad. "You're joking, right?" His voice cracked.

Harry looked up at Ron with a perfectly straight poker-face for almost a whole minute before it broke into a wide grin and he laughed and shook his head.

"Yeah, Ron. Probably," he said with a smirk.

Although

, he added, mentally to himself,

it would be rather humorous if the one guy in the entire school who honestly didn't give a damn about the half-veela was the one who got to go to the ruddy dance with her.

Maybe he

would

ask. Just to see what she'd say. If she turned him down – which she probably would... he

was

only fourteen, after all – then no big deal. It certainly wouldn't break his heart, and then he could just ask some other chit.

But if she actually said yes, maybe during the damned dance he could find out if she had figured out her egg yet. People make eye contact when dancing. It'd be a simple matter to slip into her mind and find any information on the next task.

A wry grin spread across his lips. It wasn't a bad plan.

His companion's presence grew in his mind, and Harry felt his agreement and heard a quiet, chuckle.

Definitely a good plan.

– –

The next day Harry waited at the entrance to the great hall, leaning against the wall with the potions book he had stolen from the restricted section the night before. He was reading it while also keeping an eye out for the gaggle of French girls. They usually arrived pretty early so as to avoid the crowds of drooling, hormone-driven boys who tended to stalk them on a regular basis.

Seeing as how this was the day after the ball was announced, it seemed pretty likely that they would be assaulted.

Hell,

Harry

was planning the very same damned thing. He just hoped to do it without looking like a total arse.

He had read all the way through the instructions on the first potion he was hoping to brew to start correcting his pathetically undersized body, and was about to start re-reading the steps again just to make sure he caught all the little details he would need to make sure were just right before hand, when he caught the sight of pale-blue out of the corner of his eye.

He pushed off the wall, closed the book and slid it into his bag. He assumed a confident stance and a calm, but self assured grin.

Confidence was key. But not arrogance. It was an exact balance, and he would have to pull it off just right or else he would be just another 'stupid little boy' vying for the veela's attention.

As the girls drew closer several of them eyed him warily, a few of them even looked at him rather angrily. Fleur's face remained mostly passive, with a tinge of curiosity.

"Good morning, Mademoiselle Delacour," Harry said with a slightly cocky grin and a small bow, "I was wondering if I could possibly ask for a moment of your time?" he asked as he stood straight again and grinned rather cheekily.

Fleur's eyebrow rose the smallest fraction, but so did the corner of her lips. She seemed to consider him for a moment before she nodded and sent a quick look to the girls around her that silently told them to wait for her.

Harry waved his hand to the side the two stepped away from the group to a marginally more private spot, about ten feet away.

"You wanted som'sing, Monsieur Potter?" she asked a moment later.

"Yes, I was wondering if you might consider attending the Yule Ball with me," Harry said with easy confidence and a simple, but honest-looking smile. There wasn't the slightest hint of fear or uncertainty in any of his words or actions. He could tell from the look in her eyes that she found this rather surprising. That or she was just stunned that a stupid little 14-year old would have the balls to ask her at all.

"You want me to go to zee ball wis

you?" she asked with a mixture of shock, and amused curiosity in her eyes.

"That is the general idea, yes," Harry said with a quick nod and a grin. "Are you interested?"

She eyed him for a long minute, and Harry realized that she was honestly considering it.

"I will take your proposition under consideration," she said finally. "I

do

have other interested suitors, as I'm sure you are aware."

Harry smiled and chuckled quietly. "Oh, I'm sure there are

plenty

of others dying to ask you. Older boys. Perhaps even better looking guys, although I find that one hard to imagine," he said airily with his nose slightly in the air, before smiling widely and snickering. "Although I guarantee that none of them will be nearly as entertaining company. Still, I understand completely," Harry said giving her another little bow of his head. She actually laughed lightly and Harry's smirk only grew in response. "Do try not to keep me hanging for too long though."

"Of course. Zhat would be rude. I will let you know as soon as I have made my choice."

Harry grinned again and nodded his head. "Thank you."

She smiled back at him, an amusement twinkling in her eyes. "You seem greatly changed zince zee start of term, Monsieur Potter."

Harry playfully rolled his eyes. "Well, being forced into a deadly tournament does wonders to motivate a person to grow up a bit. I've had some pretty powerful changes in my life over the past two months," he ended with an easy dismissive shrug.

"Your performance wis zee dragons was quite surprising. I was unaware zat you were a parseltongue. Quite a rare talent, zat is."

"Yeah, I get that a lot," Harry said with another dismissive gesture before he leaned in a spoke in a mock conspiratorial whisper, "I used to try and keep it real quiet because all those whispers about me being a dark wizard used to make me idiotically self-conscious, but I've sort of gotten over that," he finished with a chuckle.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Let them believe what they want. It's a talent I possess and I'm not going to shun a perfectly legitimate skill just because

some people

are a little creeped out by it."

"Hm," she made a small approving noise and grinned at him. He grinned back, a little wider.

She rolled her eyes at him, but her smile only grew.

"I must be going. My friends are waiting and we have breakfast to attend to."

"Of course," Harry bowed and waved his hand out, motioning her back towards the entrance where her friends still stood, whispering furiously. Quite a crowd of other students seemed to have collected there as well.

She laughed at him and shook her head. "You are very amusing, Monsieur Potter."

"Please, call me Harry," he said as he began to walk beside her, back towards her friends.

"Alright, 'arry," she said. "I will let you know when I make my decision.

"Thank you."

The entered the great hall and parted ways – Fleur and the other Beauxbatons girls heading towards the table specially setup for them, and Harry, confidently striding towards the Gryffindor table. Dean was the only one from his year already there, and he was gaping at Harry with his jaw so far open, it was practically resting on the table.

Harry sat down and quickly began loading up his plate, as he pretended to be oblivious of all the jealous pairs of eyes, currently trained on him. The smirk wouldn't leave his lips though.

His encounter with the French girl had been amazingly easy. Harry chuckled as he thought of how utterly impossible that would have been a mere two months prior.

Merlin

, he was glad he wasn't that stupid, weak little idiot anymore.

– – –

Each day that passed, his companion was able to stay with him for longer and longer periods of time during the days, and the smoother and easier his words came. By the end of the week, they were almost able to hold a fluid conversation for nearly half an hour before his companion grew tired and had to retreat back into Harry's mind.

Harry asked his companion why he would grow tired so easily after speaking to Harry when he was awake, and he responded by saying that in order to stay in Harry's outer awareness he had to draw from Harry's magic. He explained, in his broken whispery way, that Harry's magic, and his magic were not entirely compatible, and it took a lot of strength for the him to use that energy. But that relaying actual words, instead of emotions, took more strength than he possessed on his own.

However, he told Harry that as each day passed, the two magical sources grew more and more alike, and the easier it became for him to tap into Harry's power core, which was why he was slowing able to stay longer and say more.

Harry wasn't entirely sure what to make of that revelation, and wondered if he should be concerned that his magic

type

was becoming more like that of his companions... and what the bloody hell that even meant.

He suspected that it was related to how his once-white mindscape was slowly turning gray. But he couldn't quite bring himself to think it was a bad thing. The further the mottled gray area spread, the more comfortable he felt there.

For a while now he had been feeling that the white had been

too bright. Whenever he entered his mindscape, he hurriedly retreated to the dark corner and buried his face in his companion's embrace. He hated looking out into the white expanse. It was blinding, and annoying. It had started irritating him with it's brightness, and as more and more of it was shifted to gray, he felt more and more content and comfortable.

He wanted it to change faster. He was sick of the whiteness.

–

Harry owl-ordered the apothecary in Hogsmeade with a list of ingredients that he would need for the three different potions he planned to make. They replied telling him that they could provide all that he needed, except for the Re'em blood, which they didn't carry. They recommended an apothecary in Knockturn Alley called Mr. Mulpepper's Apothecary that specialized in exotic magical animal parts, which Harry was grateful for.

Harry was also in need of some Runespore eggs for the potion he got out of the restricted section book, but he had known better than to ask the Hogsmeade apothecary for that.

Runespores were protected, so it was actually illegal to sell their eggs. They were still traded on the black market, of course, but Harry didn't exactly have any idea how to

contact

someone like that.

Perhaps this Mr. Mulpepper from Knockturn Alley would be of some help.

Harry penned a response to the Hogsmeade Apothecary confirming the order, and then another one to Gringotts, asking them to transfer the needed funds directly to the proprietor. Once the apothecary had their money, they would send Harry a parcel with the specified ingredients and he could begin his brewing on two of the three potions.

He was thankful that none of the potions he needed to make were as annoying to make as Polyjuice potion had been. No ingredients that had to be picked at the full moon, or had to go through a month long simmering time.

No. All three potions he planned to make could be brewed in a matter of hours, and ready to begin a consumption schedule immediately after.

He couldn't wait.

But of course, he

had to

wait, since he was still missing two key ingredients to the most important potion of the batch.

He quickly penned a letter to the shop in Knockturn Alley under the alias, Notechus Noir. He went with Noir with regards to his godfather Sirius, since noir meant 'black' in French. His companion suggested Notechus. It was the Latin name for the tiger snake, and his companion said it suited him – although how, Harry really couldn't fathom. His companion also made helpful suggestions on what exactly to say, and how to say it to get what he wanted without garnering excess suspicion. Hopefully it would work, and he would be able to get his Runespore eggs without considerable hassle.

– –

That Saturday brought the dancing lessons, and a surprisingly large number of Gryffindors had shown up for them. Apparently their head of house had been rather insistent. She didn't want her lions all looking like a bunch of uncoordinated buffoons at the ball.

The girls were all eager and giggly, while the boys were awkward and embarrassed. Harry had to fight to hold in his laughter at how idiotic his fellow boys were acting. They were practically oozing terror, and when instructed to place their hand on their partner's waist, most of them looked as if they had just been told to stick their hand in a vat of boiling acid.

Harry had actually been the first guinea pig since, when McGonagall had asked for a volunteer to dance

with her

to demonstrate to the rest of the class, he had been the only one willing to do it.

The twins whistled and shouted catcalls to him, and he winked at them, and gave his head of house a low bow before taking her hand and placing his hand upon her waist without the slightest hesitation.

Inside he was laughing wildly at the stunned looks of his fellow classmates.

It was just their bleedin' professor! Sure, the woman was old enough to be his grandmother, but it wasn't like she was going to bite.

Harry's movements were rather jerky at first as he tried to remember the steps, and keep in time with the music at the same time, but he caught on quickly enough and McGonagall gave him a small approving smile.

It was shortly after that, that she had forced the rest of the gathered students to partner up and began spouting off instructions to each of them. Harry waited to the side while she walked around the group, giving specific advice to those struggling the most... which was most of them, honestly. Harry observed and made mental notes of what to try and what to specifically avoid, as well as

whoto avoid on the dance floor, so as not to get knocked down.

Finally McGonagall made her way back over to him and he led her back onto the dance floor with a mild chuckle.

He easily re-found his groove and slipped into a comfortable rhythm.

"I must say, Mr. Potter; I'm quite impressed. You've caught on quickly."

Harry smirked. "Thank you professor.

I do try."

She raised an eyebrow, but he could see the corner of her mouth twitching against the urge to smile. "Yes, apparently so," she replied dryly, only making Harry smile wider. "I actually wanted to commend you. Your class performance this last month or so has seen a great improvement. Your written work has taken a dramatic turn for the better as well."

"Yes, well, having to go up against people three years older than me in a tournament practically designed to kill me is great motivation to study harder," Harry said with a mild air of sarcasm.

"I imagine it would be. I'm proud of how you seem to be handling the pressure, although I have also noticed that you don't seem to be on speaking terms with many of your classmates."

"I would say that

they

are not on speaking terms with

me."

"Not even Mr. Weasley or Miss Granger? The three of you always seemed so close, but I never see you with them anymore. I never see you with

anyone

these days, Mr. Potter. I must admit I'm a bit worried about you."

Harry felt himself tense up and had to fight to keep a scowl from spreading across his face. He wanted to know what she was thinking and realized this was a great opportunity to see if he could pull off the mental scan while dancing. He didn't have his wand in his hand, and wouldn't have it at the ball either. His companion had told him he could do it if he focused enough. He decided to try it.

He tilted his head up and made eye contact. He called his magic to him and slipped into her mind with surprising ease. He only barely brushed the surface of her thoughts. Krum had been able to tell that he was in the Bulgarian's mind, and Harry didn't doubt that a professor as old and experienced as McGonagall might have some more definite sense of a magical invasion into her mind than the students he had tried this on so far had. So he wasn't willing to risk exposure by delving too deep. Just the same, he wanted to know what the professor thought about his recent social behavior so he lingered, picking out bits and pieces as she thought them.

Withdrawn. Anti-social. Brooding. Easily angered.

She'd seen him snap at several people over the last week. She had also seen him bite back with some rather nasty retorts when a couple Slytherins tried taunting him about the latest Skeeter article. She was also concerned about his behavior towards some of the Hufflepuffs. Part of her thought that maybe he was depressed, however there was another little voice that thought his 'symptoms' were also reminiscent of other,

darker, problems. The phrase

dark magic

kept flitting through her mind, surrounded by concern. He pulled out and scowled.

"They've been giving you a hard time, haven't they?" she asked in a softer, quieter tone that surprised him a bit with how much it sounded like she

actually cared. He blinked at her, not entirely sure how she expected him to respond to that.

"Yeah, well the whole accusation that I cheated to get my name into the cup was pretty bad on it's own – and of course no one believed me when I said I

didn't do it. Then there was that ridiculous article from Skeeter that came out, only making things that much worse. And even after I scored the highest in the first task, the fact that I used parseltongue to do it only bred paranoia and a new wave of rumors about me

going dark,"

Harry said with a dramatic roll of his eyes and a chuckle, hoping his blasé approach to the subject would assuage some of her paranoia.

Professor McGonagall gave him a hard look. "Yes... about that..."

"Oh not you too," Harry groaned and stopped waltzing, so he could look at her better. "Do

youbelieve that parseltongue is dark?" he asked, flat out. Several people around them heard and quite a few eyes landed on them.

McGonagall's eyes darted around and she frowned at several people, giving them a look that said 'keep dancing!' and they all instantly dispersed. Of course they still stayed within earshot, and continued to shoot the two of them furtive glances.

"I suppose not, Mr. Potter, although very little is actually known about parseltongue. Those who possessed the skill did not often share information on it," she said finally as she refocused on him. "Still, I don't think that you should be exerting your efforts towards pursuing that branch of magic."

"Why not?" Harry asked, crossing his arms and giving her a fairly indignant glare. He wasn't going to let her get away without giving him an honest answer.

"While it is true that parseltongue might not actually a dark talent, most wizards who possessed the skill

were dark wizards."

"So being able to speak and understand parseltongue, instantly makes me dark?" Harry responded, indignantly.

"No, of course not. I simply mean that the spells that were created, specifically with parseltongue in mind, were created by dark wizards, and as such, are

dark spells."

"Well I didn't even

use

any spells in the first task," Harry said, rolling his eyes.

She blinked at him, apparently surprised and confused by this statement. "You didn't?"

"No! Well, I did cast those fireproofing spells on my clothing, and the fire shield that I kept on my forearm before hand, but those were just

normal spells.

The parseltongue stuff was simply metelling the dragon

that the gold egg in it's nest was an imposter's egg and that if it hatched it would eat all of her eggs. I told her I was going to take it away and promised not to harm any of her eggs while I collected it. Dragons are related close enough to serpents that they still speak and understand a variant of parseltongue. I had the added benefit of having gotten the Chinese Fireball. Asian dragons are the closest of the dragon races to serpents and understand parseltongue almost perfectly. All I did was

talk to it."

"That's it?" McGonagall responded, surprised.

"Yes. That was it," Harry said in a tone that booked no question of his honesty. Of course he was lying through his teeth. He had used quite a lot of persuasive and confunding magic while sending out those parseltongue commands. But McGonagall didn't need to know that, and neither did the group of people who were currently standing around them eavesdropping.

"Hmf," McGonagall made a small, surprised noise in her throat but then nodded her head. "Very well then. Still, I wouldn't recommend any extensive pursuit in the field of parselmagic."

"How could I? It's not like there are any books on the subject in the library," Harry said, rolling his eyes as he stepped forward and resumed his earlier position and they began to dance again.

She continued to make minor corrections to his form, and timing, but quickly told him he had a very solid foundation and left him so she could make another pass around the room to help the others.

Harry stood off to the side and relaxed against the wall. His companion joined him in his mind and the pair of them had a silent running commentary on how idiotic most of his classmates looked as they bumbled their way around the large dance floor.

Surprisingly enough,

Neville

was doing the best out of the forth year boys. The twins and Lee Jordan were having a pretty easy time of it too, but they were all confident enough that even when they messed up, they were able laugh it off, recover, and cover it up quickly.

Most of the girls looked frustrated and annoyed with whatever boy they had gotten stuck with as a dance partner, although plenty of them still looked nervous and unsure enough to make plenty of the mistakes themselves.

"What are you doing over here all on your own?" Hermione's voice broke through his internal snickering and he turned his head to see her walking up and lean against the wall beside him.

"McGonagall said I had a good handle on things and she needed to start making rounds to help the others. What about you?"

"Ron got embarrassed and is currently sulking against the wall over that way somewhere," Hermione said, nodding her head towards the opposite side of the room.

Harry snickered. "Yeah, well he looked like he was doing a pretty pathetic job of it. I'm amazed he even showed up to this thing." Harry chuckled and then looked back over at Hermione. She was looking wistfully at the couples still dancing.

"Want to have another go at it?" he asked, motioning towards the dance floor with his hand.

She looked stunned by the offer for a moment before smiling shyly and nodding her head.

He chuckled and shook his head as he pushed off the wall and lead her onto the dance floor.

It was odd dancing with Hermione, but not really as odd as it had been to dance with his head of house, so Harry quickly got over any weirdness he felt in the situation.

Their movements were a bit awkward at first, but Harry quickly found his comfort zone and Hermione caught on quickly enough thanks to his surprisingly impressive skill at leading. Once they had gotten into a comfortable rhythm, Harry figured he'd make some small talk. That was part of the deal, and he needed to be able to dance and talk at the same time if he was going to be Fleur. She would expect it..

"So... you excited for this whole dance thing?" he asked, not really caring about the answer.

She smiled shyly and nodded her head. "Yes, I think I am, actually."

"Anyone asked you yet?" he asked, mildly more curious now. He wondered if Ron might have done it... but instantly dismissed the thought. Ron was far to thick to realize that Hermione was actually agirl.

Hermione blushed slightly and her smile widened a bit. Harry smirked. "Ah, someone has then, huh? Anyone I know?"

She pulled her lip in between her teeth, as if she were seriously debating whether or not to tell him. He couldn't quite imagine why she might be hesitant to tell him and wondered if she was embarrassed about it. He dug into himself and pulled out another hefty collection of his magic, preparing for another wandless attempt at mind-reading. The magic made his stomach do flipflops and he felt a little giddy at the rush. He almost stumbled a bit at the exquisite surge of power, but managed to recover and resume dancing without interrupting the flow too badly.

She looked up with a curious frown, clearly confused by his sudden stumble, and the odd shudder to his breath. As their eyes made contact he slipped into her mind and began to dig through her memories. This was a much deeper intrusion than he had been willing to risk with his head of house, but he was confident that Hermione wouldn't notice a thing. Finally he came across a mental image of Viktor Krum, standing over her, surrounded by the library stacks. He was stumbling over his English a bit, and actually managed to look awkward and nervous – something Harry found rather surprising for the always overbearingly confident Bulgarian. Harry picked out the words

Yule Ball

in the jumbled memory, and saw Hermione blushing, ducking her head and nodding as a large smile spread across her lips.

He pulled out of her mind and blinked in surprise.

Surely not...? Krum? Really!

He almost laughed.

"I think I'm going to keep it a secret, if you don't mind," Hermione was saying as a small, secret, smile spread across her face.

Harry chuckled and shrugged. "Fine with me. Keep your secrets," he said in a joking tone as he continued to recover from his shocking discovery.

Viktor Krum! With Hermione! Hah!

Harry could feel his companion chortling in the back of his mind too.

"What about you? Do you have anyone in mind to ask?" Hermione said, squaring her shoulders and taking on a more confident posture.

"Already asked someone, actually. She's got a lot of potential suitors lined up though, so she said she'd let me know when she picks someone," he ended with a chuckle.

"Oh? Who?"

"Fleur," Harry said with a wide, amused grin. Hermione looked stunned.

"You asked Fleur!" she apparently found this even more shocking than he had found the whole Krum thing.

He nodded his head and laughed lightly. "Yup. Did it the morning after McGonagall told us all about the ball."

Hermione's face instantly shifted to concern. "You didn't make a fool of yourself, did you?" she asked in a hushed whisper.

Harry snorted. "Hardly. Honestly that whole

veela-thing

doesn't really effect me any. It's kind of funny to watch the other blokes falling down over themselves like blathering idiots though."

Hermione gave him a skeptical look. "If the 'veela-thing' doesn't effect you, why did you ask her?"

"Thought it'd be funny, honestly. I mean, the whole male population of the school is infatuated with her. I thought it'd be humorous if the one guy here who

isn't

obsessed with her was the one who got to go with her to the dance. Plus, I imagine she would probably enjoy going to the event with someone who could still manage to talk, instead of just drooling over her the whole time."

Hermione looked at him with a rather disbelieving look. "So your

infatuated with her?" she repeated, skeptically.

Harry chuckled and shook his head. "Not even the slightest."

"But... well, why not? I mean,

I

don't understand the draw behind it, of course, but I'm a

girl.

I understand that it's a very powerful sort of magic and very few can fight it very well. A veela's aura supposedly calls to men like a moth to flame. It's why all the boys get so

dumb

around her. Why wouldn't

you

get all dumb around her too?"

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but stopped for some reason. He paused and for the first time since Hermione and Ron had ditched him after Halloween, he considered confiding in her.

As the words flitted through his mind, he suddenly knew they were true and he almost laughed as he was struck with the powerful realization. He didn't though. Instead he met Hermione's eyes and smiled softly.

"Honestly, Hermione?"

She nodded her head, prodding him to continue.

He sighed but his lips were still graced with a soft, resigned smile. "Honestly... I don't think I fancy girls."

Hermione blinked at him with obvious confusion on her face. "You don't –" she began to say when her lips parted suddenly in surprise and realization dawned in her eyes. "You... you mean you fancy –"

"Blokes? Yeah... yeah, I think so," Harry said with a shrug and an unusual accepting honesty in his eyes.

"Oh... oh, Harry," Hermione said, coming to a stop and looking up into his green eyes. "How long have you known?" she asked in a hushed voice.

He shrugged and ducked his head a bit. "I don't know... not too long really. I think it's only just really starting to hit home. But I think a part of me has known it for more than a month now."

"So recently?" she said, apparently surprised by this.

Harry laughed. "Yeah, well, I hadn't really let myself think too much on relationships before this. I've always been a bit busy trying not to get killed by something or other, or spending my summers with the

muggles,

locked in my room. Not a lot of opportunities for making profound self realizations when you spend every waking moment performing exhausting manual labor."

Hermione looked as if she were about to keep talking but came up short and made a face at what he had just said. Her mind seemed to be trying to work something out, but she shook her head, as if pushing past it and getting back on topic.

"So... so you figured this out while Ron and I –"

"While the two of you had ditched me? Yeah. When you're left all alone, it gives you a lot of time to think on things."

Hermione ducked her head and had the decency to look terribly ashamed.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through so much alone, Harry," she whispered sadly. "I was such a fool."

"Yeah... you were." Harry said simply.

She looked up and her eyes were filled with sadness and remorse. "Will you ever forgive me, Harry?"

No. Never.

"Of course," he lied effortlessly, giving her a soft, reassuring smile. "It's okay. We're okay, Hermione."

"Really?" She asked with a hopeful gasp and smiled up at him, more brightly than he would have expected. He nodded and she quickly wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a hug.

He stiffened instantly, and had to fight the urge to squirm away from her. He didn't like the feel of her holding him. Not one bit. It was nothing like when his companion held him. There was no comfortable sense of home in this embrace. Only awkward discomfort. But he knew he needed to try and smooth out his public relationship with her and Ron. People would be less suspicious of him if he restored his friendship with them. And it would be so much easier on him if people weren't suspicious of him.

People watched him too closely as it was, and it was annoying. He had heard them whispering about him; the fact that he had so obviously distanced himself from his old

friends

had only added fuel to the fire of speculation around him turning 'dark'.

She finally released him and stepped away, blushing slightly and ducking her head. She smiled up at him, and her face was glowing with relief and happiness.

"Thank you, Harry," she said with a soft voice.

"What for?"

"For giving me another chance."

"Of course. We're friends, right? I couldn't stay mad at you guys forever."

She smiled again and ducked her head. He heard a small relieved sigh escape her lips.

Simple. Now, of course, he had to deal with the annoyance of actually talking to them regularly again, and he definitely wasn't looking forward to that. Harry only barely managed to refrain from groaning in frustration.

– –

Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. JKRowling does.

First

Beta Pass

by Clemex

– –

"Blimey, Harry! How did you do that!" Ron exclaimed as the three of them left the defense classroom and began to make their way towards the grand staircase. It was Tuesday and they were finally done with classes for the day and were not working their way to dinner.

"Do what?" Harry replied, slightly confused as to which 'that' Ron was referring to now. He had been under the impression that Ron had been oblivious to most of what he spent the last hour doing.

"That... that...

thing

you did! What was that?"

"Ron, I honestly have no idea what you're talking about," Harry barely managing to mask the air of annoyed exasperation in his voice.

"Harry, I think that Ron's referring to the non-verbal spell you used that caused your training dummy to

disintegrate," Hermione said, while giving him a fairly wary look through narrowed eyes.

"Oh... that?" Harry responded. It had hardly been the highest level spell he had used in their Defense class that day, although he was pretty sure no one noticed the more interesting ones.

They had each been placed in front of a charmed dummy that was spelled to send random hexes at them. Moody told them to disable the dummy as quickly and efficiently as possible, and to do it without getting hexed. Harry took care of it in what he felt like was a rather efficient manner. His spell had hit it on his first shot, and had

utterly

disabled it. Definitely effective.

It was

later

that he started getting creative and began doing some more...

subtle

magics around the classroom.

Harry had gotten bored, since he had completed his task first. He was leaning against the wall to the back of the classroom, watching as the rest of his classmates were repeatedly hit with minor hexes by barely animate objects, and were unable to get their attacks past their dummies' weak little shield charms. It was pathetic, really. So he had started messing with people – just sending minor curses and lesser hexes here and there, to amuse himself. They had been complex and subtle, and the fact that he had pulled it all off without anyone the wiser sent an exuberant thrill up his spine.

But Ron wasn't excited about the results of Harry's subtlety. Ron wouldn't have noticed any of them, even if Harry had done it while holding his wand directly under the ginger's nose. No. Ron had never appreciated subtlety. He was getting all excited about the stupid spell he'd used at the start of class. Harry barely managed to refrain from rolling his eyes.

"Yes,

that,"

Hermione said, with a fairly accusatory tone. "What

was

that, Harry? Where on earth did you learn something like that?"

"Erm... read it in a book, somewhere. Don't remember, where exactly," Harry said with a dismissive shrug. Truth was that his companion had whispered it in his ear a week earlier when he was trying to come up with different curses and hexes to practice in preparation for the tournament. He still didn't know what the next task would be, but he didn't see any harm with practicing curses. Seemed like a decent enough use of his free time to Harry.

"I didn't hear you say anything when you cast it," Ron said, his voice filled with a bit of awe. "Did you seriously cast it without saying anything!"

Hermione huffed in exasperation. "Merlin, Ron! Harry has been doing almost all of his classwork non-verbally for more than a month! How could you not have noticed!"

"Seriously!" Ron exclaimed and turned to gape at Harry.

"Uh... yeah, Ron. I have."

Idiotic, unobservant, git.

Harry thought as he rolled his eyes. His companion burst into cackles of laughter, making it very difficult for Harry to keep a straight face until it subsided.

"How did you learn to do that!" Ron exclaimed.

"Learned it while I was studying

on my own,

you know – for the

dragon," Harry said in a rather annoyed tone.

Ron's ears went pink and he looked down at his feet.

"So what spell was it?" Hermione asked, turning to Harry and giving him a rather expectant look. "I mean, the one you used today in Defense."

Harry clenched his jaw in irritation, trying to hold back the urge to snap at her and tell her to mind her own damned business. Instead he took a slow breath and pulled back on a disinterested mask.

"It's called

distraxi,"

he replied once he was sure he could keep the anger out of his voice.

Hermione frowned. "I've never heard of it."

Harry was unable to refrain from rolling his eyes this time. "Obviously," he remarked sarcastically.

They reached the landing on the first floor and began to make their way towards the entrance hall.

"What

the spell,

exactly?"

Hermione persisted. "I mean, what does it do?"

Harry's hand was fisting so tightly into the hem of his robe sleeve that his knuckles were turning white, but he managed to maintain a vaguely calm exterior. "It's a dissolving hex, Hermione. Literally it means

to pull into pieces." The truth was that it wasn't a hex at all. It was a curse. But he knew Hermione would only give him a harder time if he admitted that to her.

"Yes, but what are it's limits? Surely you wouldn't be able to use that spell against... against aperson

would you? We were supposed to be practicing a way to stop someone attacking us with hexes, Harry. Surely you wouldn't use that spell against a person, would you?"

Harry stopped and turned to look her in the eyes. His face was mostly blank, but the irritation was still blatantly clear. His lids were slightly lowered, and his brows were flat.

"The assignment was to stop the dummy from attacking, and to not get hit. The challenge was to get past the dummy's shield charm and disable it. I did that."

"Well,

yes, but shouldn't you find a way to do that in a way that you could use in a real scenario? You could use that spell to stop a

dummy, but you wouldn't be able to do that if it were a real person... right? What would that spell

do

against a real person?"

"What exactly are you suggesting?" he asked, flatly.

"Well, it just seems a bit... destructive, that's all. Are you sure it's just a hex? It looked like a

curse, Harry. Especially since it managed to get through the training dummy's shield so easily..."

"And

diffindo

isn't destructive?

Bombarda

isn't destructive? What about

confringo?" he sneered.

"What's your point?" Hermione asked, taking on a rather defensive posture.

"My

is that all of those spells are all neutral spells that are taught as a part of the standard Hogwarts defense curriculum, and they're all

destructive

too. Bloody

bombarda

is taught in classes! I don't see how the spell I used was any worse."

"Bombarda isn't taught until sixth year, Harry!"

"You

used it

last year!" he pointed out.

"Well, yes, but I read ahead! And you haven't answered my question. What would that spell do if used on a living person?"

Harry's eyes narrowed and he glared down icily at the bushy-haired brunette. "It would do exactly what it did to the

dummy," he bit out in a harsh whisper.

Hermione's eyes widened in slowly dawning horror and Harry turned away and continued to stride down the hallway. Hermione stood stunned in place and Ron stood there with his head turning back and forth from Hermione to Harry and back again before he hurried down the hall to catch up with Harry.

"You're kidding, right, mate?" Ron said as he caught up and matched Harry's harsh strides. "I mean... it tore that dummy to pieces and dissolved it into dust! In like... five seconds flat! It wouldn't really do that to a

would it?"

Harry grumbled in frustration as he came to a stop and turned to glare back at his 'friends'.

"Do you know why the killing curse is called the

killing curse?"

Ron blanched but shook his head no.

"Because that's

all it can do.

It kills you. It's quick, painless, and honestly – probably the most humane way you

can

kill a person. Do you know how many

other

magic spells can kill a person? Hundreds! Probably thousands, if you're creative enough.

"You can kill a person if you slice their throat open with a well aimed

diffindo. You can kill someone with a

bombarda

if you blast them out a window, or off a ledge, or blast some big piece of something hard into their head. If you're point-blank and put enough force into the spell, you could probably blow a person apart with

confringo! Bloody hell, guys, you can kill a person with a pencil if you're really dedicated! Just because I used a spell that

could

be used to kill someone doesn't mean that that is it's only use. Do you want to ban quills because someone

could

stab you in the eye with one?"

"Yeah but

that spell

seemed like a really

dark

spell, Harry," Hermione whispered as she came to stand beside Ron. "It just.. it felt

dark."

"Well it's not. It's a neutral magic spell like the others because it has uses that have nothing to do with maiming or killing a person," Harry shouted at her.

Of course, it's only just barely a neutral spell...

he silently admitted to himself. "Besides, do you honestly think I'd be stupid enough to use a dark spell in

school? In class!"

"Are you saying that you know some!" Hermione gasped.

Harry growled in anger. "No! Of course not!"

Well... maybe a few... but it's not like I'm going to tellyou

that.

He amended, mentally, and his companion snickered.

"Well, I'd certainly hope not! It's Defense Against the Dark Arts class, not the

Dark Arts class!"

"Merlin, guys! I learn a few spells outside the standard curriculum and suddenly you're jumping on the 'Harry Potter is going dark' bandwagon!"

"I just don't see why you'd need to learn a spell that tears things apart like that!" Hermione argued, defensively.

"Uh – does the

Tri-Wizard Tournament

ring any bells, Hermione? You know, I'd really prefer

to end up dead this year. I'm going to learn whatever the hell I need to learn to survive this thing."

Hermione made to open her mouth but snapped it shut and looked down.

"I'm sorry, Harry. You're right."

"Thank you!" Harry said in angry exasperation while throwing his hands into the air.

Hermione sighed heavily and turned back down the hall and the three of them resumed their trek to the Great Hall.

"You've been doing really brilliant in classes lately," Hermione whispered in a very quiet voice after an uncomfortable minute of silence.

Harry narrowed his eyes and looked at her suspiciously for a moment before masking it away an taking on a forced bashful expression.

"Er, thanks."

"Do you... do you think you could teach me some of that non-verbal magic you've been doing? Maybe point me to whatever book you learned it from?"

Harry blinked at her in surprise. "Uh... I... I don't really know Hermione. I mean, I didn't exactly read it from a book or anything."

Hermione stopped and looked at him with a furrowed, confused brow.

"How'd you learn it then?"

"I just sort of... started doing it. I kind of had an epiphany earlier this term one Saturday morning when I was doing a lot of thinking. I can't really explain it, but I sort of figured out how to tap into my magic in a way I never had before. I just..

now. I really wouldn't have any idea how to instruct someone else on it though."

She frowned and sighed. "Oh... alright."

The trio entered the great hall and made their way to the Gryffindor table. Harry managed to avoid much of the conversation for the majority of the meal. Ron and Seamus, who were sitting opposite Harry and Hermione at the table, got into a heated discussion about some upcoming Quidditch match between the Ballycastle Bats and the Chudley Cannons. Hermione ended up eating while reading, and Harry was grateful for the opportunity to be left alone for a while. He knew he would have to soak it up while he could since his

friends

would expect him to stay with them in the common room to do their homework.

Harry had just finished eating when he heard a startled choking noise from Ron. He looked up and saw Ron's jaw hanging so far open it was practically resting on the table. A glance to the left revealed an identical expression gracing Seamus's face.

Harry was about to ask what they were gawking at when he felt a light tapping on his shoulder. Harry turned around in his seat and saw none other than Fleur Delacour standing just behind him.

His eyes widened and his lips parted in surprise for only the briefest of seconds before he pulled on a confident grin and nodded his head.

"Mademoiselle Delacour, what a pleasure it is to see you this fine evening," Harry said with mock seriousness and a silly dip of his head. She giggled and rolled her eyes at him. Harry heard a strangled whimper noise emanate from somewhere in Ron's throat, but ignored it.

"Please, 'arry. Call me Fleur," she said grinning.

"My lady you honor me," Harry said, still grinning cockily. "So to what do I owe the pleasure? Have you already made your decision?"

"I have," she said, grinning even larger.

"Are you going to keep me hanging here? I'm absolutely desperate with anticipation."

She laughed. "You really are quite amusing 'arry. I do hope you will keep me just as entertained at zee ball."

Harry's brows rose questioning. "Does that mean you've accepted my invitation?"

She rolled her eyes and giggled lightly. "Yes, 'arry. I accept."

Harry beamed at her. "Brilliant."

"I will let you know where to come collect me for zee ball when zee event draws nearer."

"I look forward to it."

"So do I," she said with a smirk as she began to turn away. "See you later, 'arry."

"Bye Fleur."

Harry turned back to the table, chuckling lightly and feeling a smug sense of accomplishment. He looked up and saw that the entirety of the Gryffindor table... and everyone from most of the other tables, for that matter – were all staring at him.

Ron's face was almost as red as his hair and he was making squeaking noises in his throat.

"You alright there Ron?" Harry asked with mock concern.

"Was that what I think that was?" Seamus asked in a choked gasp.

"What do you think it was?" Harry asked, grinning.

"Did... wait, did you ask Fleur Delacour to go to the dance with you!" Seamus exclaimed.

"Yeah," Harry said with a dismissive shrug.

"When!"

"Um... last week. Morning after McGonagall announced the ball."

"For real!"

"Yeah."

"And she just accepted!" Seamus continued, his voice growing higher in pitch with each word.

Harry laughed and shook his head in affirmative. "Yes, Seamus. I asked her out, and she said yes," Harry said slowly, as if he were speaking to a small child.

Ron's jaw was now floundering up and down and his eyes were oddly dilated. Harry reached across the table and waved his hand in front of Ron's face.

"You alright there, mate?"

"F-ff—fleu..." he began to stutter.

Harry rolled his eyes and turned back to Seamus. "So you asked anyone yet?"

"Oh, yeah. I asked Lavender. She said yes."

"Congrats man."

Seamus coughed out a laugh. "Nah, Harry. If anyone should be congratulating anyone, I should be congratulating

you.

I can't believe you had the balls to ask out Fleur! Even more... I can't believe she said yes!"

Harry laughed. "Is it really so hard to believe I could get a date?"

"It's not that, Harry. It's just that she's

Fleur Delacour!

And you're just a forth year!"

"F-f-fl-fl..." Ron continued to stutter, dumbly.

Harry chuckled. "Yeah, I know. I think the fact that I'm able to talk to her without stuttering and drooling like a babbling buffoon really improved my chances, though."

Ron's jaw snapped shut and his face went red again.

"I don't know how you manage it, though," Seamus said with awe in his voice. "I mean... you were just talking to her so easily there! How can you not go all dumb around her?"

Harry shrugged and reached down to grab his bag. "I don't know, I just don't." He turned to Hermione who was giving him a small knowing smile and he rolled his eyes at her. "I'm gonna head back to the common room. I'll see you all later, alright?"

"Alright. See you later Harry," Hermione said.

– – –

The next morning at breakfast a speckled gray owl swooped down through the great hall along with the countless other post owls, and settled on the table in front of Harry. Harry's excitement grew and he quickly reached for the parchment wrapped around it's leg. He gave it a piece of bacon off his plate and quickly unrolled the letter.

"Who's that from, mate?" Ron said through a mouth full of eggs. Harry barely managed to stop the sneer that wanted to spread across his face as a few pieces of food fell out of Ron's mouth and onto the table.

Disgusting

whelp...

He shook his head and looked back down at the letter. It was from Mr. Mulpepper's Apothecary in Knockturn Alley.

Harry quickly read over the letter and his lips curled into a devilish grin.

"What is it Harry?" Hermione asked as she leaned over his shoulder a bit. He scowled as he quickly folded it shut before she could read it. He masked his annoyance and took on a simple innocent expression.

"I ordered some things from the apothecary in Hogsmeade, but they didn't have some of the ingredients I needed so they recommended I write to an apothecary in Diagon Alley. This is them and they have what I need."

"What sort of ingredients?" Hermione asked, frowning slightly in confusion.

"I needed some Re'em blood."

Hermione blanched. "What on earth for!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "For a potion."

Hermione scowled slightly in annoyance. "Yes, Harry, I figured that much. What potion are you trying to brew though?"

"A strength enhancing potion for the next task," Harry lied easily.

"Are you allowed potions in the next task?" she asked, surprised.

"Of course. That's the point of being given the clue so far in advanced. The sooner you figure it out, the more time you have to prepare."

"Oh. That makes sense. So you've figured it out then."

"Mmhmm," Harry hummed in a rather noncommittal way as he took a bit of food. "As soon as all my ingredients show up, I'm going to have to spend some time in the dungeons brewing."

"We can help you mate," Ron said. Harry almost snorted.

As if I would want

your

help with potions.

"Nope," Harry said easily. "It's for the task. I'm supposed to do it on my own."

"Oh... right."

Harry smirked.

Too easy.

Now he had a great excuse to get away from them to do his brewing without having to make any extra excuses. And he could always claim the potions he was making would take multiple days to brew and get away from them even more.

– – –

The next morning a small crate from the Hogsmeade Apothecary arrived, carried by two brown post owls. Two days after that, the box containing the Runespore eggs and Re'em blood arrived from Knockturn Alley. It was the last day of term, and Harry had a potions exam that day on brewing antidotes.

Harry knew that he'd have an easier time with his brewing if he actually got permission to use the potions lab during break, rather than trying to sneak in, or trying to brew the potion somewhere poorly equipped for brewing, so he decided to ask Snape after class.

–

The exam was surprisingly easy. Harry was pretty sure he got most of the written questions correct, and, since his practical potion was brewed alone instead of with a partner, he was able to get it completed without anything exploding. He was completed with his test fourth behind Malfoy, Daphne Greengrass, and Hermione, but his potion looked better than Greengrass's did, and he never expected to do better in potions than Hermione or Malfoy.

Unfortunately, since it was an exam class, it meant that once Harry was done with his test, there was nothing for him to do until everyone else had finished as well. Everyone else left as they finished, and Ron looked at Harry with mild confusion when he saw Harry sit back down after handing in his potion and test parchment.

It didn't take long for Harry to grow incredibly bored, so he reached into his bag and pulled out the potions book from the restricted section.

The two 'non-restricted' potions that Harry planned to brew were, an advanced nutritional restorative potion, and a bone and muscle restructuring potion.

Both of these potions, however, would normally require Harry to take them every day for years to reach the level of correction that he wanted to gain. They would slowly, and gradually correct the damage done by a decade of malnutrition.

The third potion - the one he got from the restricted section book – was an accelerant potion and it had been invented by a wizard that felt that the other two potions, and other restorative potions like them, took too damned long. It would speed up and magnify the effects of the other two potions, as well as having a number of lesser benefits of its own.

He would still need to brew enough of the first two potions to take one dose every day, but only for two months instead of multiple years. The accelerant potion would be taken eight times. Once a week he would need to take a dose of it, and ideally at a point in time where he could remain in bed for twelve hours without being disturbed, because it would be painful and leave him entirely bedridden.

Thus, his plan was to do it on either Friday or Saturday nights, and come up with some excuse about training or some such thing, to keep his

friends

away. Of course he still needed to figure outwhere

he was going to stay while he endured these sessions. He was still working on that part.

Harry began to thumb through some of the later chapters in the potions book.

Brews and Rituals of Permanent Improvement

by Scaliea Vanity. It was a fascinating book. Everything covered in the book would be... well,

permanent.

Memory enhancement rituals, physical strengthening potions, brews to drastically increase mental clarity and cognitive thinking.

Harry had to admit that more than a few were tempting. However they tended to have side-effects that would be to visibly obvious for him to risk doing many of them while at school. Possibly after he graduated he'd go through and do several of them.

Of course, the potions he was planning on taking would cause a

visibly noticeable change

too. Hopefully he could get away with claiming he had a magical growth spurt, and had been exercising to get in shape for the tournament.

He looked back down at the book. There were

definitely

a fair number of things in it he was interested in trying later. He wished he could just copy the darn thing, but the copyright spells on it prevented that. He considered just keeping it. He hadn't actually 'checked it out', so no one actually knew he had it. But he suspected that there were charms on all of the library books that prevented them from being removed from the school.

Write the... publisher...

Harry blinked and then rolled his eyes at himself for not thinking of it on his own. He flipped to the front cover page and looked for any information on the publisher. He found it right away and pulled out a piece of parchment to copy it down.

Jasper Beech; Crespus Publishing

He would write a letter to them asking if he could buy a copy of the book directly from them, as soon as he was done with Snape.

Speaking of which... Harry looked around the room and saw that Goyle and Lavender Brown were the only ones left in the room. Neither of their potions looked very promising, and Harry doubted that Snape had the patience to actually wait for the two of them to finish.

Figuring he'd make use of the time he had, Harry began to pen the letter to the publisher. It was pretty simple. Just asking about the specific book and whether or not he could buy a copy direct from the publisher, and if he couldn't, asking if there was a reseller that he could contact instead. He signed the letter under the same alias, Notechus Noir, that he had used with the apothecary, and folded it up and placed it into the cover of his book.

He looked up just as Snape strode angrily down the isle and glared at Lavender and Goyle. He growled at them to just bottle what they had and turn in their tests. Harry packed away his things and sat back in his chair, waiting until the other two had cleared out.

As soon as the dungeon door closed behind Goyle, Snape spun around and glared at Harry.

"Potter," he hissed in a quiet, threatening tone, "what

are you still doing here?"

"I need to brew some potions in preparation for the next task. I was planning to do it during the Christmas holidays and was hoping I could do it in one of the dungeon potion labs," Harry said quickly, getting straight to the point. He knew that drawing this out would only irritate Snape more.

The potions master narrowed his eyes and looked at Harry speculatively.

"And you really need to make use of one of my class rooms for this little task of yours?" Snape sneered with an air of skepticism.

"I was hoping so, yes. I need somewhere quiet where I can concentrate and where I won't have any of my house mates breathing down my neck. I'd also prefer to do it in a properly equipped potions lab then in some random empty classroom. I wanted to get your permission first though and make sure that I wouldn't be causing you any inconvenience by using one of the labs you would be using."

Snape's lip curled up disdainfully. "How unlike you, Potter. Actually taking other people's needs, and the

rules

into consideration ahead of your own self interests."

Internally, Harry rolled his eyes. Externally, Harry retained a perfectly blank expression. "Would it be alright sir?"

Snape's eyes narrowed and he pierced Harry with them for a long minute before giving him a curt nod.

"You may use potions lab B. It will remain unused the entire break."

The corners of Harry's mouth turned up the slightest bit. "Thank you, sir," he said eagerly. "I really do appreciate it."

Snape looked disgusted by the display and quickly shooed Harry out of his classroom.

Harry didn't dawdle and quickly left the dungeons and began to make his way towards the owlery. If he was lucky, he could get that letter sent out before Ron or Hermione caught up with him again, so he wouldn't have to make up some lie about who he was writing to, or why.

– – –

The next day was Saturday and once lunch was over, he begged off from Ron and Hermione, informing them that he was going to start brewing his potions and would be unavailable for the rest of the day.

He had collected all of his ingredients into a single box, and took it, along with the necessary potion brewing supplies down to potions lab B, and quickly set everything up.

It took him the whole afternoon and into the evening to brew the first potion. He had a huge vat of the stuff when he was done, and conjured a wooden sectioned box and four dozen small glass phials. He carefully measured out two months worth of doses and put one dose into each phial.

He put away all of his supplies and his new box full of potion, and cleaned up his workstation. He did a quick shrinking spell on the wooden box, and then a cushioning barrier around it before slipping it into his bag and making his way out of the dungeon.

He was absolutely wiped out when he was finally done, and headed straight up to bed.

The following day was the same. He brewed the muscle and bone regrowth that day, and it took just as long. Again, he conjured another wooden box and another large set of small crystal jars – larger this time since the dose of this potion was about three times that of the other one.

Monday arrived and Harry took his first dose of each of the two potions. Neither tasted good, but they weren't nearly as fowl as some of the other potions he'd endured in Madam Pomfrey's care over the years.

Friday was the Yule Ball, so Harry planned on doing his first dose of the accelerant potion Saturday night, through Sunday morning. But first he had to brew it. Since he knew this one would take the longest he planned to leave Ron and Hermione right after breakfast. About half way through the meal an owl arrived with what looked like a mail order catalog attacked to it's leg. Harry looked at it with mild confusion for a moment before he removed it from the bird and gave it some sausage.

Upon closer examination, Harry realized it was from the book publisher, Crespus Publishing, that his potions book came from. He grinned as he read a small note attached to it from

Mr. Jasper Beech; owner and operator, saying that the book he inquired about had a newer edition available and that he could order it directly from them, using their owl-order service. Details were included in their catalog.

Harry packed it into his bag and told Ron and Hermione he was heading out to start working on his potion. Ron whined about Harry wasting his holidays with ruddy potions work, and Hermione told him to make sure he still had time to dedicate to his holiday homework with all this potion work he was doing.

Harry only

just

managed to walk away without saying something snarky to them, and made his way down to the dungeons.

– – –

Harry could not describe how grateful he was for the presence of his companion when it came to the brewing of his last potion. It was an incredibly delicate matter and it was, quite honestly, above Harry's level. But his companion was surprisingly patient and his guidance was always delivered in just the right way.

During the lulls between ingredients, or between the times when he had to stand and stir it so many times counter clockwise before adding in a single clockwise stir, Harry sat down at his workbench and thumbed through the catalog.

It became quite obvious right away that Crespus Publishing specialized in questionable books on questionable subject matter. Yet quite a few of those

'questionable'

subjects sparked an exited wave of curiosity in Harry.

He chewed on the edge of his quill, waging an internal battle. A wicked grin spread across his lips and he chuckled and shrugged to himself as he put quill to parchment and marked down all the books he wanted to order.

There were quite a few.

–

By the time dinner had rolled around, Harry had finished. His potion was a semi translucent silvery sludge. It oozed out of the ladle and into the eight jars he had to hold it. He didn't imagine he would enjoy swallowing that down, but he was surprised to find that it actually smelled rather nice. Sort like lilacs.

Harry cleaned up his workstation, packed away his supplies and made his way to Gryffindor tower. He stowed his things, before grabbing the order form from his bag and jogging towards the owlery.

– –

The rest of the week passed peacefully. Each morning he would take another dose of the first two potions, and then spend his day either in the common room reading, or relaxing in bed, in his mindscape with his companion.

The gray mottled discoloration had spread through almost every space of his mindscape. The black mist also took up almost a quarter of the large space and it gave his companion more room to wander. Harry found that he could will the dark ambiguous mass that he once relaxed in, into a specific form if he desired it, so he turned it into a large overstuffed black leather couch.

The whole thing was just in his head, and having a couch there to rest in didn't actually effect his enjoyment of the time he spent with his companion, but it was a luxury he enjoyed giving himself, so he kept it there.

Besides, he liked the image of the two of them curled up together on the large leather couch. The leather felt cool and luxurious against his skin, too – even though he knew that was just imagined in his head.

–

Harry hadn't been present for the actual incident, but Ron had apparently managed to offend Hermione at the start of the week. He had been suddenly inspired with the realization that Hermione was a girl, and had asked her to the ball in a fit of desperation, while also insinuating that she couldn't possibly have a date to the ball already. The poor idiot had also been stupid enough to point out that while it was bad for a bloke to show up without a date, it was downright mortifying for a girl.

Hermione had refused to speak to him after that.

At some point later that day, Ron had finally gotten so horrified by the prospect of showing up to the dance without a date that he had just yelled out a panicked 'invitation' to the first girl he had come across at the time – which apparently had been Parvati Patil.

–

Tuesday night Harry had sat in his mindscape with his companion trying to come up with a private place where he could take his potion. He needed somewhere where no one would be able to bother him. He could cast silencing charms, so it didn't necessarily need to be sound proof, but it wouldn't hurt.

He was frustrated by his lack of options and finally slipped into sleep, still unsure as to what he was going to do.

He woke that morning with inspiration. For a few solid minutes he was sure he knew the perfect place where only he could go and no one could bother him. Then reality fell upon him like a bucket of ice water and he frowned.

The Chamber... that was what he had thought. He could slip down into the Chamber and have absolutely no worry of anyone interrupting him. But then he remembered the state of the Chamber and how utterly disgusted with the place he had been.

Plus there was also a great rotting basilisk down there. It had already smelled rather foul down there. Now there would be the added

benefit

of two years worth of giant rotting snake corpse.

Harry grimaced.

Yet he was getting the distinct impression from the tiny presence he could feel of his companion in the back of his mind, that he should still investigate the idea.

After lunch he told Ron and Hermione that he needed to check on a potion he had on a slow long-term simmer and that he didn't know how long he'd be away. He ran up to Gryffindor tower and grabbed his invisibility cloak and the Marauder's map. He slipped into an empty classroom on the third floor and slipped on the cloak and pulled out and activated the map. Once he was sure the coast was clear and no one would be around to catch him slipping into Myrtle's bathroom, he went to the 2nd floor and slipped inside.

Fortunately, the ghost seemed absent so he went straight over to the sink that didn't work and hissed

§open§

at the tap. The sink moved and shifted away, revealing a wide opening into a deep, dark, tunnel.

Harry's lip turned up into a disgusted sneer at the sight of the pipe. He did

want to go sliding down the thing like he had in his second year. He wondered if he should have brought his broom along with he felt his companion's presence grow in his mind.

Stairs..

"Huh?"

Call for stairs.

Harry furrowed his brow in confusion for a moment but he knelt down at the edge of the hole and hissed out

§Stairs§.

The smooth edges of the tunnel suddenly began to change shape and narrow, steep steps emerged from it. The first section was so steep it was practically a ladder, but it was still a tremendous improvement. Harry grinned.

He began to climb down and once his head was below the entrance he hissed the close command and was instantly shrouded in darkness. He pulled out his wand and cast a

lumos

to light the tip. It didn't take him too long to climb down, and a short distance down the tunnel widened and shifted into a gradual slide enough that he could traverse the steps without bending over ducking, or having to climb down like a ladder.

He finished his decent and entered the larger tunnel filled with the bones of countless little dead things. When he came upon the section of tunnel that had caved in slightly he hissed out some banishing spells and waved the rock pile away, reveling in the exquisite sensation of his magic whirling around him and coursing through him. It surged and tingled in delicious ways that made his stomach curl when he wielded it to do larger things like this. Unfortunately he rarely had the opportunity to do anything larger.

The idea crossed his mind that even if he didn't use the Chamber to take his potion, he could still come down here to practice magic in private. That thought excited and a large grin spread across his lips.

He came across the entrance to the anti-chamber commanded it open with another hiss. He braced himself for a wave of horrific rotting odor but was surprised to find that there was no significant increase in the smell of dead things.

He entered the Chamber and came up short upon the sight of the basilisk corpse. He had almost forgotten how enormous the damned thing was.

Had he really fought against that monster when he was twelve?

He shook his head and was filled with a boiling rage that he had been forced into a situation like that. Why the bloody hell did

he

have to keep dealing with these things? Granted, the teachers weren't capable of parseltongue, so they couldn't have gotten down to the chamber, but was there really

no way

for them to use magic to find the place?

Although, he supposed, Slytherin had probably gone to a lot of trouble to keep the place hidden, so conventional magic was probably useless, especially if you don't know what your looking for.

Still... didn't the school have wards to detect dark artifacts? Why hadn't the diary ever been detected? Everyone claimed that Hogwarts' wards were supposed to be some of the most powerful in the world, and that the school was the safest place in Britain.

Harry snorted.

Yeah,

right.

It was all just empty words. The wards didn't detect shit. And if they did, Dumbledore didn't know how to read them, or willingly ignored them.

Hell! Voldemort had been in the school for an

entire year, latched onto the back of Quirrell's head! What did the wards even

do

if they couldn't catch Voldemort roaming around the school on the back of a teacher's head, or a dark artifact like that diary? Clearly nothing.

Harry shook his head.

He was always on his own. No one ever protected him. No one ever had. He had always had to look out for himself. He'd had to look after himself at the Dursley's, and that hadn't changed one bit upon entering the wizarding world. All that changed was that now more people were trying to kill him.

And why? He realized he hardly knew. He fought against them simply out of defense. Just desperately trying to stay alive. He'd gotten into half of his messes because he felt the need to try and save people, but what was the point of running around like a fool saving people if all it did was get you killed?

He sighed heavily and tried to shake the bothersome thoughts from his mind. He began to stroll around the enormous serpent and was mildly bewildered at how...

intact

it appeared.

It didn't look like it had rotted at all!

Magically preserved...

His companion's voice explained in a breathy whisper that sent a shiver down his spine.

Harry nodded his head and looked down at the monstrous beast approvingly. It really was a shame he'd had to kill it. Of course it was that or get eaten.

Go to the statue...

Harry paused and turned to look at the great statue of Salazar Slytherin that the basilisk had emerged from two years ago. It was still open and he briskly walked over to it. He peered into the inky blackness and squinted. He flipped his wrist and sent a series of small glowing balls of light down the tunnel, each stopping five feet further down than the last and lighting the long, large tunnel.

It seemed to go for a surprisingly long way and he began to trek down it.

About 20 feet in he felt the urge to stop fill him. He had a feeling it was coming from his companion, but the other presence remained silent. Harry looked around the large tunnel he was standing in and felt a pulse of magic from the wall beside him. He reached his hand out and brushed it against the smooth rocky surface. There was something there and he brought his wand closer.

A small serpent was carved into the rock. Curious, he leaned in and whispered

§Open§, just to see if it would work.

A second later a seam appeared in the smooth rock in the shape of a door. The rock sunk back and slid to the side revealing an entryway.

Curious, Harry stepped inside and was stunned by what he found.

It was a study. And it was coated in a thick later of dust. The room was about the same size as Dumbledore's office. There was a plush chaise lounge of some sort, a wide, intricately carved wooden desk, and a large high-back wooden chair also carved with designs of snakes curling up the legs and up the back support. The walls were lined, floor-to-ceiling with bookshelves, all of which were filled with books.

Harry walked over and began to examine some of the room with eager excitement.

He cast a

lumos maxima

and sent the glowing light to the ceiling so as to better illuminate the space while he explored. While it was true that it was covered in dust, it wasn't nearly enough to be a thousand years worth. Riddle must have gotten into this place too, he reasoned. Probably cleaned it up some during his time at Hogwarts.

Harry walked over to the chaise lounge and with a quick sweep of his wand and a controlled swirl of his magic, all of the dust and dirt was banished from it.

It looked like velvet or something similar. It was a deep emerald green, and had small shiny black buttons in the shape of skulls sewn into the back and side rest, pulling the plush fabric in, every six inches or so.

He ran his hand over the fabric and it felt smooth and soft. He smiled. This was perfect.

He could come down here once a week to take his potion and be guaranteed complete privacy. And he could practice his spell work down here in the basilisk chamber. He knew the schools wards didn't detect anything down here, so there was so worry...

He paused and felt a sense of excited anticipation surge through him. He could try out some of those...

dark

spells... He hadn't felt safe actually casting any of them since he didn't know if there was anyway for someone to detect he was doing it. Plus he didn't really have anywhere private enough to do it. But now he did.

He only had the smallest of reservations about practicing dark magic. His opinion of the branch of magic had changed drastically over the last two months, although he couldn't quite pinpoint why.

It was all magic. Light, dark, neutral. It was all knowledge, and to limit himself to only one or two of the branches, he was only holding himself back. Willingly keeping himself ignorant of a potentially powerful well of knowledge and magic seemed idiotic to him now.

He was at school to learn magic, and for the first time since he had come to Hogwarts, he found himself consumed with a hunger for knowledge. Each new spell he learned - each new theory he came to understand - the more excited he became. It was thrilling to wield such power.

Why shouldn't he learn to use every branch of magic that interested him?

Harry spent two hours exploring the study and the books contained within it. He was literally gleeful - vibrating with excitement. He slipped two into his bag and left the study. He continued down the long tunnel and found the massive chamber where the basilisk had clearly lived. It was filled with bones and filth and Harry quickly left to return to the entry chamber, and then back out and up the stairs.

He checked the Map to make sure the coast was clear before commanding the sink to move aside so he could leave. He glamored the cover of one of the books to look like his transfiguration textbook and settled into one of the chairs in the common room.

Ron tried to get Harry to join him in a game of chess, but Harry said he was busy and couldn't. Hermione smiled in apparent approval at Harry's new studious attitude. Harry smirked, internally. She would hardly be so approving if she knew he was reading about the fundamentals of dark theory.

– –

Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. JKRowling does.

First Beta Pass by Clemex

– –

Christmas morning arrived and Harry lay in bed for about a half hour, sunk into his mindscape and spending as much of the morning as he thought he could get away with, with his dark companion.

It was destined to be interrupted though, and Harry found himself being 'shaken awake' by an enthusiastic Ron, shouting about presents and breakfast.

Hermione was still giving Ron the cold shoulder in response to his latest display of insensitive idiocy, and Ron only made it worse by persisting that Hermione had to be lying about having a date.

Hermione, and the rest of the girls of Gryffindor disappeared around 4pm so that they could go get ready for the dance. Harry thought it was ridiculous that it could possibly take anyone four hours to get dressed and cleaned up – especially considering that they had the aid of magic, and that really could only speed things up – but he wasn't an idiot, and opted to keep his incredulity to himself.

Ron wasn't nearly so smart, and ended up on the receiving end of several girls' scowls.

–

At seven, Harry made his way to the dorm room and got into his dress robes. The 'traditional' set of robes that Mrs. Weasley had sent Ron were absolutely hideous and it took every last ounce of will power on Harry's behalf not to burst out in in pearls of laughter at how utterly idiotic the ginger looked in them.

Harry begged off early, both because he was running out of the strength necessary not to laugh at Ron, but also because he needed to go wait for Fleur.

Harry made his way towards the entrance hall and waited for Fleur where they had agreed upon. She didn't keep him waiting too long, and for that, he was grateful.

Harry complimented her on her dress and hair, and the two made easy small talk. Mostly they bantered, and she seemed to find him sufficiently entertaining. McGonagall gathered up all of the champions and pulled them into the side-room, just off the great hall where first years waited before they were sorted at the start of term.

When Viktor Krum entered the room with Hermione on his arm Harry grinned widely at her. She looked sufficiently gleeful. She blushed and ducked her head when she spotted him grinning at her. Cedric came in with the Ravenclaw seeker, Cho Chang on his arm.

Finally McGonagall came back and lead them all into the Great Hall. They made a procession down the center of the gathered crowd and onto the dance floor. Harry caught sight of a furious looking Ron as Hermione walked past him with Krum. Harry grimaced as a small sense of dread settled in the pit of his stomach. He knew that look. It was the look that meant Ron was going to do something monumentally stupid before the end of the night.

Harry sighed and simply hoped he wouldn't be there whenever the ginger did whatever stupid thing he was going to end up doing.

Harry led Fleur onto the dance floor, placed his hand easily on her waist and in her hand, and led her in the traditional waltz that was expected of them for the start of the ball.

A minute into the dance, the rest of the students and professors joined in and the ball had officially begun.

"You just keep surprising me 'arry." Fleur said with a little smirk.

"Oh?"

"Yes. You are a surprisingly good dancer."

"Why thank you, but it's only because your beautiful presence at my side has inspired me to do my best."

She laughed. "I doubt that."

Harry looked at her curiously and tilted his head to the side a bit in mild confusion.

She gave him a knowing little smirk before diverting the conversation onto another topic. They stayed on the dance floor for two more dances before Harry finally decided to try slipping into her mind. He knew it would be easier to find information in her memories of the the task if she was actively thinking about it, but he didn't want to bring up the tournament in their conversation.

He couldn't actually

ask her, and even

the second task would surely make her realize he was fishing for information. So instead he distracted her with aimless banter on the school's pathetically limited elective classes. Fleur took up the conversation eagerly and boasted proudly on the multitude of subjects offered at Beauxbatons that Hogwarts did not.

While she talked Harry began digging through her mind, searching for anything in relation to the egg or the task. It was taking longer than he had hoped, and he was finding it hard to stay attentive to their conversation while simultaneously searching her mind.

He was just about to give up and wait till later to try again when he finally stumbled across a memory of a rather... er –

naked

Fleur, getting into a bath with the egg. She pulled the egg under the water and ducked her head down with it.

She opened the egg and instead of the ear piercing screeching, she was graced with singing voices.

Harry wanted to smack himself in the face.

But still – how the hell would he have ever thought to pull the blasted thing under water to listen to it?

He listened to a bit of the clue, and connected it to some mental images she had of the black lake. It was enough. He knew how to get to the clue on his own now and he could focus on that later. Now, he had to focus on his date.

– –

The band switched to a popular wizarding band called the Weird Sisters. The first fast dance was a little awkward for Harry since he'd never actually danced like that before, but he managed to catch on quickly enough. Fundamentally, all that was required was some confidence and the ability to relax and not worry about what anyone else thought. As long as he didn't give a damn about other people judging him, he wasn't afraid to just cut loose and enjoy the music and the rhythm.

By the forth song that the band performed, he was completely losing himself to the dancing and having the time of his life. Fleur laughed and twirled and danced and Harry was pleased to say that she looked to be legitimately enjoying herself.

A few more songs passed before the two of them sat down at one of the tables, giddy and giggly from exertion and dancing. Hermione and Krum joined them at the table a moment later. Hermione was flushed and smiling brightly, clearly she was enjoying herself too. Krum and Harry both stood from the table and left to go get their dates punch and biscuits. Once their task was completed they made their way back to the table and Harry saw Ron sitting

alone

at another table against the wall, scowling angrily at the whole room in general, and at Krum, more specifically. The distinct lack of Parvati told Harry that Ron had probably already done at least one obnoxiously stupid thing.

Harry rolled his eyes and walked directly back to Fleur, dedicating himself to steering clear of his angry dorm mate for the rest of the night.

The four of them sat and kept up a simple conversation for a short while. Krum seemed to have a twitch, but then Harry noticed that the Bulgarian was just swatting at a beetle that kept flying around their table.

Harry raised his hand subtly and focused his magic on the desire to ward off the insect. He covered his mouth with his other hand, and turned his head to the side, as if he were covering a cough and hissed

§away!§

while keeping his eyes trained on the beetle and twitching his fingers.

The small black insect was instantly sent flying far away and Harry smirked. It was a stupid simple piece of magic, but he'd not only done it without any wand, but he'd also done it without anyone the wiser.

After chatting through another song, Harry felt he'd sufficiently found his second wind and asked Fleur if she was interested in returning to the dance floor. She smiled widely and nodded her head, eagerly allowing Harry to lead her away from the table.

Fleur was a fantastic dancer, Harry decided. Some of her movements got a bit on the risque side in some of the songs, but Harry just laughed and played along. She was clearly amused and the pair of them both seemed to enjoy the watchful eyes locked on them several times through the coarse of the night.

The crowd was beginning to thin, and Harry realized that there was only about thirty minutes left until the ball was officially over. Harry and Fleur were leaving the dance floor in a fit of giggles after a particularly risque set of dance moves made Professor Vector snort punch out her nose in shock.

Their antics had also caused several of the boys dancing in their vicinity to trip over their own feet and fall down, taking their dance partners with them.

They had finally decided that they were causing too much of a scene and willing vacated the dance floor in search of more punch.

Harry came back to Fleur's side after grabbing a couple cups of punch. She was still slightly breathless and recovering from her giggles.

"Oh 'arry, you are far too much fun," she said, covering her mouth with the back of her hand as she finally calmed her chuckles.

"I try, I try," he said with a mock bow before taking a sip of his drink.

Harry was about to open his mouth to say something else when his attention was suddenly drawn to a familiar angry voice. Harry turned towards the sound just in time to see an obviously distressed Hermione standing opposite an indignant looking Ron. Her hands were balled into fists, and her eyes were alight with barely restrained fury.

She growled out angrily, but Harry couldn't make out any of the words. The next thing he knew, Hermione picked up a cup of punch and tossed it into Ron's face before angrily stomping off towards the exit.

Harry blinked and then slowly turned back to Fleur, barely restraining the amusement in his expression.

"What do you sink dat was about?" Fleur said with wide curious eyes as she continued to look over Harry's shoulder to the now soaking wet and pink Ron.

Harry shook his head and sighed. "Ron is an idiot. He probably said something appropriately idiotic."

"Isn't he one of your friends?"

Harry snorted, but quickly shifted his expression. "Er... I suppose. Or we used to be, but we've kind of grown apart a bit. I think the biggest problem is I grew up a bit since last year, and he... well, hehasn't."

"Ah. Should you go check on your friend 'ermione?"

"She's probably run off somewhere to have a good cry. I probably wouldn't even be able to help her even if I could find her."

Harry led Fleur back onto the floor only one more time that night, for the final song of the night. Finally, the band pack up and left, and all of the students began to disperse.

Harry walked with Fleur back towards the wing where the Beauxbatons students were being housed during their stay.

"I had a truly wonderful tonight, 'arry. Thank you for inviting me," Fleur said with a smile and a twinkle in her eye as they came to a stop beside a deserved alcove a brief distance from where they would have to part ways.

Harry grinned and shrugged. "I had fun too. Thank

you

for accepting my invitation."

Fleur smiled and gave Harry a rather piercing look for a long silent moment. Harry felt an odd tingling sensation float through him for a moment. It was a foreign sort of magic he wasn't familiar with and he narrowed his eyes and looked at her speculatively.

"What are you doing?" he asked when his curiosity got too powerful to ignore.

Fleur ducked her head, but her grin was obvious. "Just testing a theory. Tell me something 'arry. You're gay, aren't you?"

Harry's eyes widened and he blinked at her in surprise. "Er..." he began but snapped his mouth shut. He scrutinized her for a moment before he chuckled and shrugged. "Yeah. How'd you figure that?"

He giggled and rolled her eyes. "I am

Veela, 'arry."

"You say that like it's supposed to mean something to me."

"I hit you with a very strong wave of my aura and you didn't even bat an eyelash. It meant that you either had no interest at all in women, or you hadn't yet hit puberty, and I can plainly see that you have done the later."

Harry chuckled and shrugged again. "It doesn't bother you, does it? That I asked you to the ball even though.."

"Of course not. I already suspected, even before tonight."

At this Harry rose his eyebrows questioningly.

"The way you were able to approach me with such ease. Both before zee first task, and then again when you asked me to zee ball. You showed none of the usual reactions to my aura."

"Ah, I see," Harry said nodding his head. "And it really doesn't bother you?"

She laughed at this. "Bother me? Of course not. You were funny and witty and able to hold a conversation. It was far better an evening that I had anticipated it being when we were first told of zee ball."

Harry ducked his head and smiled broadly. "Well, I'm glad you had fun."

Fleur grinned and gave him a simple little nod. She leaned forward then, and Harry's eyes widened in mild surprise as she pressed her lips on his cheek. She pulled back and that mischievous twinkle was in her eye.

"Goodnight, 'arry. Good luck with the second task."

Harry grinned and pushed down the mild blush that had managed to bloom on his cheeks. "Good luck to you too," he said once he'd regained his composure. "Goodnight."

Fleur turned and left the alcove only to disappear through a doorway a moment later.

Harry watched her leave and sighed. He was exhausted, but it

had

been fun. Much more fun than he had ever expected.

He pushed himself off the wall he'd started to lean against and turned in the opposite direction. A little bug buzzed around his head and he shooed at it with his hand absently before jogging towards the grand staircase, and back up to Gryffindor Tower.

– – –

He swirled the shot glass of brandy in his small spindly fingers. His first Christmas in a body in more than a decade.

He snickered at his own thoughts. It was ridiculous for him to have such sentimental thoughts. Besides, his current vessel only barely qualified as a body, although his control over his magic was gradually improving.

He had spent the day with only Nagini as company. But she made surprisingly good company, so that wasn't exactly a bad thing. He certainly preferred spending the day with her than spending it in the company of

Wormtail. Now that was a decidedly pathetic prospect. Spending the holidays with Wormtail.

He could practically feel the bile try to rise in his throat at the mere thought.

He sighed and set the small glass down on the table beside the dwarfing armchair he currently resided in. Next to it lay the book he'd been reading. It was an old text. One that Barty had managed to find for him. It was on the theory of ancient blood magic. The subject intrigued him. He theorized that dear Lily Potter had been playing around in darker magics than anyone else had suspected her capable of.

He was finally beginning to form a theory as to how the Potter brat had managed to survive that night and why

his

body had been so utterly obliterated. He

hated

not knowing. Any knowledge that escaped him frustrated him beyond words and filled him with the most intense desire to discover it's every secret.

Aside from the fury he felt at being deprived of the much needed time to complete his work, being trapped in that horrific half-life had been most maddening in how mind numbingly boring it had been. Utterly unable to do anything, least of all, study the nature of magic or improve his skills. His perception of the passage of time had been warped. Years had passed in such a fast, hazy blur, that he hadn't had to suffer the boredom for nearly as much time as had actually passed.

But at the same time, it had taken so long for him to regain a modicum of power and begin to regain his awareness of the world around him that thirteen whole years had passed since he was last in power. Thirteen years. He had so much work to do. So much ground to recover.

So much to do, and yet here he sat, unable to do anything.

Frustrating didn't even begin to cover it.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position and scooted his undersized body to the edge of the chair before hopping down into and standing position. He felt like a bloody house elf in this damned body.

Shriveled and disgusting. He yearned for the beautiful masculinity of his former form and wondered if he'd be able to fully recover it. Chances were high that he would once again be physically distorted by the powerful magics he was using to restore himself. That was unfortunate, but certainly not unexpected. It was more important that he regain a fully functional body and return to his tasks than any sense of vanity he may have still possessed. He could not wait for a better option to come alone, so he would have to make due with what he could.

He could think of several ways to power his resurrection spell that would achieve more ideal results, but the chances of any of those circumstances coming to pass were basically non-existent. So unfathomable were they, that they were not even worth the time to consider them.

He walked across the study, past Nagini who was curled up and sleeping by the fireplace, and to one of the bookshelves. He reached for a book of Shakespeare's plays, and took it back to his seat. He grumbled bitterly to himself that he had to bother walking to get the book instead of being able to simply summon it. But he needed to reserve his magical strength for when it actually mattered.

He returned to his seat with an annoying amount of discomfort and opened the book to King Lear. He always felt that it and Julius Caesar were particularly poignant to his situation. He snickered to think of how his followers would react to him reading muggle literature. Such mindless blind sheep.

Of course he didn't know if that were the case anymore. How many of his followers would have remained faithful to him over the passage of so many years? Would he have to start over from scratch? The thought was entirely disconcerting.

And frustrating. So many frustrations.

He sighed, trying to just let it go... for now. He need only wait and he would be able to begin his efforts. He relaxed back into the chair and began to read.

– – –

KING LEAR

Dost thou call me fool, boy?

Fool

All thy other titles thou hast given away;

That thou wast born with.

Harry blinked open his eyes and felt utterly disoriented. He sat up, shaking his head slightly as a minor bout of dizziness echoed through his head. He looked around his bed and onto his small night table, trying to find his book. He must have fallen asleep reading it...

Harry paused and frowned. He hadn't been reading. He'd come to bed after the ball and practically collapsed into the bed from exhaustion. But he

had

been reading... it was Shakespeare. Harry had never actually read any Shakespeare before. He always found the words too confusing and hard to make sense of. It was too hard for him to follow it, but he hadn't had the problem last night. He'd actually gotten quite engrossed in it.

But he hadn't gotten to finish it. He'd...

Harry hadn't been reading the book; Voldemort was. He'd had another... vision. Or whatever they were. He'd been in the Dark Lord's mind again.

Harry's frown deepened slightly, and he sighed heavily. He reached up and ran his fingers through his messy morning-hair. His palm brushed over his scar and his eyes involuntarily fell closed and a shudder shot through him. His lips parted and a shuddering breath escaped from between them. Hesitantly, he let his fingers brush lightly across his scar. Just once, then twice. He traced the lightening bolt shape with his index finger lightly, and then with more pressure. Warm zaps of power coursed through him and he got lost in the sensations and the instinctive act for several minutes before he finally realized what he was doing.

Harry's eyes snapped open and he pulled his hand away and looked at it with mild horror.

What was wrong with him?

–

Harry was quiet and distant from his

friends

for the rest of the day. Hermione was clearly still angry with Ron, and Ron was angry right back. Since they were each giving each other the silent treatment, Harry didn't have any trouble avoiding conversation.

He was distracted and... confused.

An hour after lunch he found himself entering the school library and looking around with a lost, confused expression.

"Do you need help with something, Mr. Potter?" Madam Pince asked as she came up to him.

"I... do... does the school have a copy of any of Shakespeare's plays?"

She looked confused for an instant, and then the expression was replaced with surprise. "I'm sorry Mr. Potter, but I'm afraid that we don't."

Harry frowned, feeling legitimately disappointed and wondered if there were

any

owl-order places he could buy a muggle book from or if he would have to wait until summer when he was abandoned back in the muggle world.

"Oh, well... thanks anyway," he said with a sigh as he turned away and left the library.

His companion had remained silent for the majority of the day, but Harry could still feel his presence in the back of his mind. The presence served to remind him that he wasn't alone, and it was a calming reassurance.

He wandered the halls of the castle for a while, just trying to clear his head. Finally he resigned himself to focusing on some more pressing needs and went back up to Gryffindor Tower to prepare his things for taking his first dose of the accelerant potion that night.

He set his his invisibility cloak, the Marauder's Map, and his satchel with the first dose of the accelerant potion, as well as one dose of each of the other two potions, since he'd need to take them the next morning when he got up, and he figured he'd may as well just have them on hand. His bag also had a change of clothes that he could change in to.

Getting his things ready hadn't taken nearly enough time though and he sighed in frustration and impatience.

He made his way down to the common room, where he found Ron sitting at one of the tables with Dean and Seamus, playing exploding snap. They were being obnoxiously loud and Harry sneered disdainfully at the small gathering.

"Harry?"

Harry spun around and quickly masked his expression as he came face to face with Hermione.

"Are you alright?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. I'm fine," Harry said, giving her what he hoped was a convincing smile.

"Are you sure? You've seemed rather distant today."

"Yeah, 'Mione. I'm fine. Really."

She smiled at him and nodded her head. She began to make her way past him when an idea made itself known in Harry's mind.

"Hey, Hermione?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"I know this may be a long shot, but do you have many muggle books in your collections?"

"Of course."

Harry blinked and was stunned by the power of the hope that bloomed in his chest.

Why was it so damned important to him to get that book?

He pushed the thought aside and pressed on.

"Do you have any Shakespeare?"

Hermione's eyes lit up and she smiled. "Oh yes. I have his complete works!"

"Seriously? Can I barrow it!" Harry asked excitedly.

To say that Hermione looked shocked, was an understatement. "O-of course! But why?"

"I just... I wanted to read a couple of his plays."

"Which ones?"

"Uh, King Lear and Julius Caesar?"

Hermione nodded her head thoughtfully and made a humming noise in her throat. "Those are both really good. Two of his tragedies."

"Yeah. Do you... er, do you think I could borrow it now?"

"Oh! Of course. I'll be right back," Hermione said with a smile and raced back up the stairs towards the girls' dorm. She was gone for nearly five minutes and Harry felt himself begin to fidget impatiently. Finally she came back down the stairs, clutching a thick book and smiling.

She reached the bottom and handed the book over to a very eager-looking Harry. He took it and looked at it almost reverently. It wasn't an expression Hermione was accustomed to seeing on Harry's face when looking at a book. Looking at a broom, maybe – but a book?

"You've really changed a lot this year, Harry," Hermione said thoughtfully.

Harry looked up at her suddenly and frowned. "What do you mean?" he asked in a rather guarded tone.

"Well... I never really see you playing chess or exploding snap with the others. You don't go flying with Ron or get excited by their debates on Quidditch, and it seems like you're reading a lot more."

Harry shrugged dismissively and turned away from her as he began to make his way over to one of the chairs.

"I don't see it as a bad thing," he said quietly as she followed.

"No..." she said slowly. "It's not. Actually, I'd say you've matured a lot. You're... I guess you see more confident with people. I'm really impressed with how much more seriously you've been taking your studies."

"My priorities changed. I've also learned to see Hogwarts for what it really is."

Hermione waited, expecting him to elaborate, but he didn't, so she prodded. "What do you mean?"

"Well... I think I used to just see it as... well, first and foremost, as an escape from the Dursley's. But secondly it was just

school. You come here and you get assignments, and you take tests and you turn in your homework. You know – just

school."

"But you don't see it as that anymore?" Hermione asked with a bit of confusion in her tone.

"No. It's not about grades or tests or homework. It's about

learning.

About gaining knowledge. It's about an opportunity to become better. To become stronger. By not taking it seriously, I was wasting a huge opportunity."

He looked up and saw Hermione looked at him with a mixture of awe, and joy. "Harry! I'm so proud of you!"

Harry ducked his head and barely managed to keep from scowling. Instead his expression became a vague frown.

"Yeah, well... I just... I realized that I was an idiot. I followed behind Ron because it was easier, but also because I thought it was more important to keep my friend than getting O's. If I started doing really good in my studies, I knew I'd alienate him. You know? If we were both doing really well, he'd get all pissy."

Hermione scowled and stuck her nose into the air. "Yes, well, he's an idiot." she spat rather harshly.

Harry laughed.

Really

laughed.

Hermione startled and looked at him oddly. Harry finally managed to calm himself a minute later. "Sorry, 'Mione. Erm... yeah. Ron

an idiot. But that's part of what made me realize that

I

was being an idiot too, because I was using him as a role model. I was imitating

his

behavior, and for all the wrong reasons. So I stopped."

"Well I'm proud of you, Harry," she said, giving him a proud smile.

"Er... yeah. Thanks."

Harry finally managed to escape her scrutiny and settled into the chair to read the book. He got lost in it, and was jolted out of his focus by Hermione tapping him on his shoulder and telling him it was time for dinner.

He kept the book with him and read it all through dinner, earning him a bewildered look from Ron. He spent the evening doing the same and was most of the way through Julius Caesar when Ron said he was going to head off to bed soon.

"Oh, hey! Ron?" Harry called out as the ginger began to climb the stairs. He paused and turned back, questioningly.

"I need to work on my potion tomorrow and I'm going to be getting up

really

early for it. I'll probably be gone before you even wake up, and I'll be down in the dungeons till a while after lunch."

"Ugh, seriously? Blimey, mate! You're working too hard! All this reading and potion brewing. You need to relax some more. You should join us for some exploding snap tomorrow afternoon."

"Yeah... I'll think about it Ron," Harry said with a fake smile.

"You coming up to bed?"

"Yeah, I should," Harry said with a resigned sigh as he closed the book and stood to his feet.

He followed Ron up the stairs and went through the motions of preparing for bed. The rest of his dorm mates were already in bed and asleep, judging by their snoring. Ron climbed into his bed and lowered his hangings. Harry did the same and sat in his bed for about twenty minutes until he was sure that Ron had fallen asleep too.

He slipped out of his bed, pulling the hangings closed and applied a non-verbal sticking charm to them. He pulled on his invisibility cloak, grabbed his bag and the map and silently slipped from the room.

–

Ten minutes later, Harry was walking into Slytherin's study in the Chamber of Secrets. He laid out his supplies on a short table to the side of the chaise lounge and pulled off his robes, leaving him in soft cotton pajama pants and a t-shirt.

He eyed the thick silvery potion warily. He knew this wasn't going to be pleasant. He also knew there wasn't anything he could do about it. He had set his mind to doing this, and he wasn't going to go back now.

He settled himself down onto the chaise and held the potion bottle in front of him. He swallowed the lump in his throat and opened the bottle. He dumped the contents into his mouth as quickly as the slow thick fluid would allow and swallowed it before his nerves could kick in too strongly.

It tasted...

cold.

It was almost minty. He was surprised by the fact that it didn't taste disgusting, but any thoughts about it's flavor left him the instant the burning began.

His back arched and then his body curled into a tight fetal ball as the waves of pain began to course through him. He screamed out in shock of how intense the agony was, and how quickly it had hit him. He wondered for a moment if he had made some horrible mistake, but knew from the warnings in the book that it was

supposed to

feel like this. He'd been warned. He couldn't claim ignorance.

He clenched his teeth and keened out terrible whimpering noises as his hands came up and fisted into his hair, pulling it and clawing at his scalp.

Merlin, he was an idiot! How could he possibly endure this for twelve hours? And then do it again once a week for

two bloody months!

Harry felt the tears beginning to stream down his cheeks and his whole body was twitching and convulsing with the mind shattering spasms of pain. He feared that the pain would drive him mad before morning, if it kept up like this.

Harry...

Harry continued to writhe and moan.

Harry... come to me. Escape... into your mind...

...escape the pain... here... with me.

Harry just barely managed to process the words through the fog of burning fire. He tried to calm his breathing, but quickly gave it up as a bad job. Instead he let his practiced instincts guide him, and sunk deep into his mind.

He gasped in relief as all of the pain suddenly left him and he was left standing in the center of his mottled gray mindscape. The black silhouette of his companion was standing there with a nervous tension to the set of his shoulders.

Are you well, Harry?

Harry sighed and nodded his head as he made several quick long strides forward. As he approached his companion opened his arms wide, in a welcoming gesture, and wrapped them around Harry, warmly, as the younger wizard finally reached him.

The feeling of

completeness

filled him as he wrapped his arms around his companion's waist in return and he breathed a sigh of relief.

– –

Harry 'woke' the next morning feeling sore and utterly exhausted. He had stayed 'conscious' in his mindscape the entire twelve hours. Falling asleep meant risking returning his aware mind to his body, and instantly being woken by the searing pain. So he had remained, safely locked away within his own mind. Safe from the pain.

He stood from the chaise on weak, wobbly limbs. His throat felt dry and horse and he suspected it was from screaming all night long. He shakily made his way across the office to a large standing mirror that rest to one side of the room. Harry hissed out a cleaning spell and waved his hand over it, blowing away fifty years worth of dust and cobwebs and then looked at himself.

At first he didn't see much. He reached down to the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it up over his head in a slow, jerky motion.

His skin was scattered with faded yellow and green bruises, looking to be weeks old, even though they weren't. The book had said that they would be gone by the end of the day she he was pretty confident that no one would get the chance to see them.

Looking bast

that, Harry could see a notable difference in his body mass already and he grinned. He couldn't see his ribs any more, although he still looked fairly scrawny. He twisted and tried to examine his back. The vertebrae of his back used to be shockingly obvious, but they no longer were. His forearms didn't look nearly as thin anymore either.

Despite the bruising, in general, his skin looked better. Healthier, and it had a better color to it. Not so pale or sickly. His face looked filled out slightly more – his cheeks and eye sockets weren't so sunken anymore; but he hoped the change was subtle enough no one would question it.

In general, the changes were small, but it was progress. And he knew it was better if the changes were slow or else more people would notice them and question him.

Harry walked back over to the chaise and picked his wand up from the table beside it. He cast a few cleansing charms over himself, but knew he would need an actual shower, and soon. He had sweat like mad during his ordeal and he felt decidedly icky. He cast a cleansing charm on the chaise as well and was suddenly grateful that he hadn't lost his bowels during everything. He was almost surprised that he hadn't.

He grimaced.

That

definitely wasn't something he wanted to deal with.

Ew.

He changed into the clean robes he'd brought with him and took his morning dose of the nutrition and muscle restructuring potions before packing up his things and leaving the chamber.

– –

The following day Harry asked Hermione if she had any idea where he might take a bath. She looked at him funny and asked him why he wanted to take a

bath

and why a shower wasn't sufficient.

Harry explained that the egg needed to be opened under water to retrieve the next part of the clue, and she seemed to accept this explanation without pressing for more. She informed him that it was her understanding that the prefect bathrooms had actual

baths, and he could always ask permission to use one of them.

He heeded her advice and sought out McGonagall right after dinner. She clearly knew about the egg because she wasn't the least bit surprised that he was requesting access to the bath, and gave him the password to the Gryffindor's prefect bathroom.

He collected the egg from his trunk, and grabbed some toiletries and a change of clothes and made his way there.

Ten minutes later and Harry was standing, starkers, at the side of an enormous bubble-filled bathtub, with the golden egg in hand. He slipped down into the glorious warmth and melted into the scented water surrounded by magical bubbles. He allowed himself to just soak in it for a few long moments before he finally sighed and sat up. He set his glasses aside, took a deep breath, and dunked himself under the water.

He unlatched the egg and let it open. The sound of singing voices reverberated through the water instantly.

"Come seek us where our voices sound,

Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. JKRowling does.

First

Beta Pass

by Clemex

– –

Harry spent some time in the library the next day looking for anything that could be useful in dealing with the task. It was difficult to ask Hermione for help since he'd given her the impression that he already had the task sort of worked out, and the potions he'd been brewing were for it.

If he admitted that he'd

fibbed

a bit, she would want to know what those potions had actually been for, and he wasn't willing to tell her that.

He was getting frustrated with the library rather quickly – especially with all the people who were there. It was still the Christmas hols for Merlin's sake! Why were there so ruddy many students hanging around the library? Stupid ball. Harry actually missed the quiet that would have been granted him during the holiday under normal circumstances. Thanks to the ball, almost every student forth year and up had stayed behind.

It was at that point that he recalled all of the books down in Slytherin's study in the chamber. Well, if nothing else, at least he wouldn't have to deal with any other students while searching

thosebooks.

Harry went up to Gryffindor Tower, grabbed his cloak, map, and his bag and headed back down the stairs. Ron reminded him about that offer for a game of exploding snap, but Harry declined, saying he needed to do some work for the task and quickly left.

Ten minutes later, Harry was slipping into Slytherin's study and setting down his bag.

Harry sat down on the chaise lounge and looked out over the room of books. Most of them were... well,

old.

Obviously. He was afraid to actually touch some of them just because they looked like the slightest bit of manhandling and they would crumble apart. They

were

a thousand years old, after all.

Some, however, were in much better condition than others. He could feel fragmented bits of magic floating through the room and realized that it felt sort of reminiscent of a preservation charm. It was weakened though, and had failed in certain sections of the room.

He had also noted that there was a neatly stacked pile of books along one side of the room, that were all in much better condition than any of the others. They also reeked of much more recent magic than the rest did.

Harry theorized that these were books that Riddle had restored or repaired during his time as a student at Hogwarts. He could see why, upon closer examination, since most of those books looked incredibly interesting.

Harry sighed heavily and wondered if he could find anything to help him with the task here. Surely, in this treasure trove of knowledge, he would find

something

useful.

He stood up and walked over to the stack of books that Riddle had restored. He crouched down and began to read through the titles.

Search spell...

His companion's voice whispered through his head and Harry paused.

"What?"

There is a spell... to search for... subject matter in books. Much... faster.

"Seriously? Why didn't you mention this earlier in the library?"

…

Harry rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Alright, what is it?"

Invenio... wand movement isss... an S shape. Incant... Invenio... and then the word... or phrasse... you are searching for.

Harry nodded his head and grinned widely. He decided to test it out on something first so he picked up the first book in front of him, looked at the title,

Tip-Toeing Through the Mind of the Unaware

by Clair Videre. His brows rose as his interest was peaked.

He set the book down on the floor beside him and took out his wand. He called the magics from deep inside him and hummed in pleasure at the feel of it swirling around him so easily. He pointed his wand at the book, made an

S

movement and said "Invinio Mind."

A swirly yellow light came from the tip of his wand and began to dance around the book. The wordMind

on the cover glowed yellow for a moment, and then the whole book began to glow lightly. It flipped open suddenly and the pages began to flip rapidly from the front all the way through the back. When it finished, he noticed quite a lot of pages seemed to be glowing yellow now, apparently marking that the word

mind

had been found there. He realized that a book about mind magic would probably use the word mind a lot in it, so it made sense.

He grinned at his easy success and did a quick

finite

and the glowing disappeared. He was about to put the book back when he paused, grinned, and set it over by his bag instead.

He'd been doing mind searching on pure instinct. He wondered what he would learn about it from a book actually written on the subject. He still didn't even know if there was a name for what he was doing, and was interested to see what he could learn in a more structured setting than his own blind attempts at figuring his own way through it.

He turned back to the stack of books and tried to think of a good keyword or phrase to search. He figured the matter of the water was probably the most pressing to start with. Swimming, sight, and breathing.

He frowned.

"Hey, does it have to be an exact quote for it to find it in the book, or can I do a search for multiple concepts and have it come back with 'close' matches?"

It will... return close matches to concepts... if that isss what you desire.

Harry grinned and thanked his companion. He raised his wand to the books, did an S shaped movement and said

"Invenio

swimming, breathing, water."

The yellow swirl exited his wand again and began to dance around the books. It continued it's dance for quite a while as it searched through the dozens of books. Harry sat back and waited, taking a moment to look around the cluttered office. He really ought to try cleaning the place up a bit...

Finally he felt the magic finish and looked over the stacks. There were a number of books highlighted in yellow and he began to collect each one into his arms.

He brought the small pile over to the table beside the chaise and set them down. He pulled the first one off the pile and sat back and got comfortable.

The Serpentine Transformations of the Parselmage

by Apala Denisonia

One of Harry's eyebrows rose as he looked at it curiously. It was in impressive condition. In fact, it was obviously not old enough to have been placed here by Slytherin. He checked the front cover and saw that it was only printed about 100 years ago.

It must have been a book Riddle left here.

Harry thought to himself.

He opened the book to the section his search spell had identified with the most glowing yellow and began to read. It was describing the Sea Serpent form and it's benefits in aiding in swimming. Breathing air was still necessary, because reptiles do not have gills, but in the form, one could hold their breath for twenty minutes between breaths. It said that if an extended stay underwater was necessary, that a bubble-head charm could be used. Harry paused and looked down at the book in mild confusion. It was obvious that he was missing something important and decided to go back to the introduction of the book instead.

"Under normal circumstances, human to animal transfiguration is a very dangerous piece of magic to attempt. When transfigured into an animal, the wizard takes on the mind and mental capacity of that animal, and as such, looses the ability to wield magic. Any wizard that completely transfigures themselves into an animal will be left unable to transfigure themselves back.

Another wizard can reverse the spell for them, but without that backup, they could end up being trapped that way, indefinitely.

An animagus is a wizard who possesses the innate ability to transform themselves into one specific animal form, that is determined mostly by their personality.

When an animagus is transformed, they retain their human mental capacity, as well as their ability to perform the magic necessary to return them to their normal human form. The animagus transformation is just that – a transformation. Not a transfiguration.

The animagus transformation has a few key downsides though. First and foremost, it takes an average wizard at least two years to master the skill – assuming that they are even capable of it in the first place. Second is the fact that the wizard is not able to decide what animal form they will take. And third, they can only ever assume that one form their entire lives. There is no opportunity to learn additional animal forms, so if the animal form they assume is not a desirable or advantageous one, they will have wasted two years of study for nothing.

It is established fact that wizards who possess the skill in parseltongue are descendants from wizards who interbred with one of the humanoid-serpent races – most often the Naga from India, but in some instances, the Yuan-ti of eastern Asia. Both the Naga and the Yuan-ti possessed the natural ability to transform themselves into humans, and used this skill in their exploits of seducing and abusing gullible humans.

Some, however, willing took a human as a mate, and it is the descendants of their offspring that possess the ability to use and manipulate the ancient parselmagics.

Because of this descent from magical creature blood, many wizards who have inherited the ability to speak parseltongue and perform parselmagic, also possess the ability to transform themselves into various serpent forms.

It is not a transfiguration, but a transformation, like the animagus transformation. Unlike the animagus transformation, this skill does not limit the wizard to a single form. Multiple forms can be learned through practice and dedication.

An additional benefit over the animagus transformation is that if you are capable of this skill, it is unlikely to take longer than two-to-three months of practice to perform a complete transformation for the first time. Each additional form will be harder to assume and will take additional time and practice to master.

Most parselmages have one or two serpentine forms that they prefer and master, but are able of taking on one or two more for other specific needs.

The following chapters detail some of the most common forms identified in parselmages and the best ways to achieve those forms through practice and meditation."

Harry paused and looked down at the book in his hands. Could

he

possibly perform any of these transformations? He sort of doubted it, since he wasn't biologically descended from 'parselmages'. He'd gained his ability from Voldemort. If the ability to do this transformation thing was because they descended from er... nagas, or something, he doubted he would have gained that too. But then again, it was a magical transformation, so who knew?

It was worth investigating, at least. He was still a little confused about the whole transforming into a sea serpent thing. Did that mean he would actually turn into a tiny snake? It could be useful... He could probably swim really fast as a little snake, but could a tiny reptilian body stand the cold of the black lake for an hour? And what about breathing? He would have to look up this bubble-head charm it had mentioned. And if he did this in the tournament, would the Ministry think he was an animagus and make him register? Would he be punished for not being registered already? His understanding was that you didn't have to register as an animagus until you'd reached 17, so maybe he would be able to slip by. Preferable, he would do this without anyone actually realizing he'd done it.

He went back to the chapter on the sea serpent form to read up on it's specific characteristics to see if it would actually be suitable for what he needed. He still had a small pile of books to look through, so if this didn't pan out, he could check the others.

Thirty minutes later he had finished the chapter, and had at least a fair number of his questions answered.

He would

and up as a 'tiny' snake, if he did this. In fact, he would probably be a

very

largesnake. His body mass would be shifted into the form of a serpent, so as much mass as he had as a human, he would still have as a snake, just stretched out over the elongated serpentine form.

It said that in that form, he would be able to swim incredibly fast. Sea serpents were extremely agile and fast in water, and their bodies were literally a long tube of muscle, making them very dangerous to try and go up against. The sea serpent also had a secondary eyelid that was see-through, so he could easily open his eyes under water without irritation. Also, they apparently had really good night vision. In addition to all this, he would also have

poisonous venom

in that form! He would be down-right deadly!

On the down-side, he

would

be cold blooded, and the water temperature of the black lake would be undeniably unpleasant, but a warming spell cast before the transformation could help stave off the cold during the actual task.

He wouldn't be able to cast any traditional wizard magic while in his serpent form, since he couldn't actually speak or wield a wand, however he would still be able to cast some parselmagic.

It sounded like the best strategy for an extended stay underwater would be to cast this bubble-head charm over his nose and mouth and cast a full-body warming charm while still human, jump into the water, and then transform once he'd gone deep enough that people wouldn't be able to see him. Of course, this would only work assuming that there wouldn't be some sort of magical observation or surveillance system set up so that those in attendance could watch the champions under water.

He almost expected that Dumbledore

would

have come up with some way to watch them – how else would they be able to tell if someone was in dire trouble and in need of help?

Still, the transformation seemed like a viable option for his task. Even if he did end up having to register as an animagus. And if he got in 'trouble' for being unregistered, he could just point out that it wasn't actually an animagus transformation, and hopefully get off on that technicality.

This was. Of course assuming he learned the transformation before mid February when the next task would take place. Oh, and assuming he was even able to do it at all... Which part of him still seriously doubted.

Harry went to the first chapter and began to read. It described a rather complicated sounding parselmagic chant that would dig deep into your parselmagic core and tell you if you were even capable of the transformation.

He read it through a few times, and his companion spoke up a few times to explain concepts that confused Harry. Finally he stood up and walked to the center of the room. He closed his eyes and focused on the image of a serpent in his mind. He began to quietly hiss a rhythmic chant of sorts and felt the parselmagic begin to swirl and twist around him. He grabbed onto that magic and pulled more of it to the surface than he had ever needed to before.

It was electric and intoxicating. Pulling out his normal magic, and pulling out his parselmagic was so different, but if he were asked to explain why, he couldn't. His parselmagic just felt so...intoxicating

somehow. It made him feel giddy.

As he continued pulling out more and more of his parselmagic, his head felt more and more light and fuzzy. His lids grew heavy and his mouth spread into an odd sort of grin. Strange hissed giggles escaped his lips and morphed into a loud cackle. The magic reached a tremendous peak before suddenly leaving him in a great explosion of dark energy. He gasped in shock and his knees gave out. The force of it caused him to fall down and left him bent over, supporting himself with his palms flat on the cold stone floor. He stayed there, motionless for a long moment, panting heavily, and shaking from the shock his body had just experienced.

He opened his eyes and saw he was glowing lightly. It was a subtle green pulse, and it was quickly fading. He grinned widely.

He was able to perform the transformation.

He stayed there for a few more minutes, before he felt that enough strength had returned to allow him to stand to his feet. His limbs still felt like jelly, but he was able to get to the chaise and sit down. He weakly pulled the book onto his lap and began to read again. He wanted this to work. Hewould

make it work. And even if he couldn't get it to work in time for the task... it just sounded to fascinating not to learn it anyway.

– –

A week had passed since Harry had come up with the parselmage transformation option, and he'd been spending some time down in the chamber each day since, practicing, meditating, and searching the few parselmagic books contained down there for useful spells.

"Where do you keep

going, Harry?" Ron whined as Harry came in through the portrait hole. "The holiday is almost over and I've hardly seen you at all!"

It was now Saturday again, and it was just after one in the afternoon. Harry had taken his second dose of the accelerant potion the night before and he was currently sore and exhausted. He wanted absolutely

nothing

to do with Ron Weasley. Especially a

whining

Ron Weasley.

Harry clenched his jaw and closed his eyes trying desperately to reign in his temper and not snap at Ron. It wouldn't do for him to lash out at the other boy. It would only raise questions. Increase suspicions. And he did not need

people watching him and wondering about him. Things had actually quieted down a bit lately and he was enjoying the calm.

He took a couple deep breaths and opened his eyes. Ron was looking at him funny.

"Look, Ron, I've been

busy.

I'm working on my strategy for the second task and it's taking a lot of work. That's all."

"You aren't seriously still brewing potions, are you!" Ron exclaimed, incredulously.

"No, actually, I finished that."

Ron blinked but then his face grew bright. "So you're done!"

Harry signed and reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm done with the

potions, yes. But that was only the first step, Ron. I've still got to learn some spells and it's taking a lot of practice."

Ron's face fell. "Oh."

"Do you need any help?" Hermione's voice came in and Harry turned to see her sitting at one of the overstuffed chairs by the fireplace.

"Nah, Hermione. I've got it covered."

"Are you sure? I mean... we could help you practice or something," she offered, looking hopeful.

Harry scrunched up his face, trying to think of anything he was working on that they could actually help with.

He'd already mastered the warming charm and the bubble-head charm. They'd been

easy.Everything that was left at this part was all parselmagic.

There

was

still the locating charms though.

He'd done another 'word search' spell down in Salazar's study for 'location spell' and 'parselmagic' and manged to find a parseltongue book on a variety of general spells – including two different location spells. He had only done this the day before, so he hadn't yet gotten around to testing out either.

"Well..." he began slowly, "I need to practice some locator charms."

"Locator charms?" Hermione said, perking up and looking at him with interest. "So... can you tell us what exactly the task is going to be? Or... are you not supposed to say? I have to admit, Harry, I've been absolutely

dying

of curiosity."

"Er, yeah... Well, I think it's alright for me to say. No one has told me not to. Basically, for the task I've got to find something. I still don't know

what

it will be though. Apparently they're going to steal something from me and hide it at the bottom of the lake. I'll have one hour to find it, and if Idon't

find it, I'll never get it back."

Hermione and Ron both gave him horrified looks. Ron spoke first.

"But there's...

things

in the lake! What about the giant squid?"

Harry coughed out a humorless laugh. "Yes Ron, I'm aware of that."

"But the lake is

huge!

And it's incredibly deep! How on earth will you ever hold your breath long enough to search it? You'll need some sort of underwater breathing spell or something. Oh, what ever are you going to

do

Harry?" Hermione said with a utterly stricken expression.

"I'm working on a few things... I've already got the water breathing thing worked out. As for surviving the squid, the grindylows, and the mer-people, I've got a primary strategy I'm aiming for, but I've also got a back-up plan in case I can't get the first one worked out in time. Anyway, either way I go, I still want to work out these locator spells, and you two could probably help with that."

"How so?" Hermione asked, sitting at attention and taking on her 'serious' face.

"Well... you could just...

take

something from me, and I'll try to find it. For all I know, they aren't even going to tell me

what

they take from me, so I may go into it totally blind. I want to try it both ways. Knowing what I'm looking for, and not knowing."

"You want to do this now?" Ron said, looking eager.

Harry grimaced. "Ugh, no... sorry guys, but I'm

exhausted.

I was actually planning on heading up to bed and taking a nap."

"Whut!" Ron exclaimed. "But it's only one in the afternoon!"

"I've been up since

really early

Ron, and I've been er... working on some really strenuous things since then, so I'm really wiped out."

"Okay," Ron said, looking glum.

"Well you'd better go get some rest then," Hermione said, instead of asking the questions that were clearly on the tip of her tongue.

She looked like she

desperately

wanted to ask Harry what he'd been up to to get so exhausted. The fact that he'd finally given up some details about the tournament, after refusing to tell them a single thing before then, had only wet her appetite, and now she was clearly hungry for more. He was surprised she refrained from badgering him.

"Thanks," he said, smiling in relief.

"We can work on that locator thing tomorrow," Ron said as Harry turned and headed towards the stairs.

"Yeah, sure," Harry said as he waved dismissively over his shoulder and began to climb the stairs.

– –

"Come, Wormtail," he said while beckoning forward with his tiny, long-fingered hand. The short pudgy man was trembling and cowering in the back of the room. He squeaked with startled surprise and scurried over to him.

"Yes, my Lord?" Wormtail sad as he kneeled and bowed his head.

"Your arm, Wormtail," he commanded.

Wormtail's head rose the slightest bit and he looked up through his long, thinning hair and trembled. Slowly, Wormtail rose his left arm, baring his forearm and pulling back the sleeve of his robe.

He reached to the short table beside the chair he rested in and grasped his wand in hand. He enjoyed the warm flow of magic he felt coursing through it and into his hand. His connection to his magic was strengthening with each passing day. It was a reminder to him that it was only a matter of time... just a matter of time...

He took the wand and pressed it

hard

into his servants arm. He grinned wickedly as he saw the simpering little rat flinch in apparent pain.

He called forth some of his magical wells and smiled wickedly when it came to him with much more ease than it had in far too long. It felt glorious and filled him with anxious anticipation for what was to come.

He collected the magic together and forced it through his wand and into the mark. The faded mark began to darken and throb with the sudden influx of magic. Wormtail whimpered quietly as the pain involved with being the vessel for the magic. It only made him smirk with increased glee.

This was the third time he had done this, but it would be the first time that it would truly make a noticeable difference with his followers. They would begin to

feel

it now.

Before he was just reestablishing the connection. Now they would begin to know, without a shadow of a doubt, that their Lord was returning. Each time he repeated this, the mark would grow stronger, and the compulsion to return to him, when called upon, would grow with it.

Ideally, this would guarantee that they would be ready when he finally did call them to return to his side. He didn't want them to have any excuse for dallying. They couldn't claim that they simply did not expect to be called upon, because it had been so very many years since his fall. There was ample warning, and punishment for an untimely return would be tremendous.

He pulled his wand back, with a satisfied smirk gracing his lipless features. Wormtail whimpered and hesitantly lowered his arm.

"Very good, Wormtail," he said in a quiet hiss. "Bring me the chair."

"Yes my Lord," Wormtail said as he bowed his head again and quickly scurried out of the room. He returned a minute later with a carved mahogany chair without any legs, that was levitating in mid-air. The chair was small in size, as if it were made for a young child, and the arms of it were intricately carved to look like snakes, curled around and then coming up along the top of the back rest.

He made a motion with his hand and gave Wormtail an expectant look. The cowering wizard hurried over and lifted him up off the armchair and placed him into the floating wooden chair.

"The books have been placed in the library?" he asked.

"Yes, my Lord. I unpacked the crates this morning, just like you ordered it."

"Good. Leave me."

"Y-yes, my Lord."

Wormtail bowed again and quickly raced from the room while subconsciously holding his left forearm to his chest; clearly thankful to be dismissed. He shifted his ridiculously undersized body in the stiff wooden chair. He really needed to add some cushions to it. No matter. He would deal with it later.

He waved his hand and the chair began to move smoothly forward. He directed it out of the room and down the hall, into the library. Several crates lined the walls. He knew they contained the old tattered muggle books that used to occupy the shelves. Taking their place in the bookshelves were a collection of books he had recovered from one of his old warded storehouses. He had been thrilled to discover that it had gone undiscovered during his absence, and left entirely in tact. Sending Wormtail, of all people, to recover them had been annoying, but even Pettigrew wasn't incompetent enough to screw that up.

He guided the chair past the rows of books, examining the titles on the spines and reacquainting himself with the collection of ancient tomes.

He sighed happily. It was such a relief to have recovered these. His books were like an extension of himself. He hated to be so forcefully separated from his knowledge base. He would always miss the books he had unfortunately been forced to leave back at the school. But someday – hopefully someday soon – he would gain control over the school and be able to go and fetch them from the chamber. But still, these books were a fantastic find, even if they weren't quite a precious as the ones left behind at the school.

He reached out and ran his fingers over the old leather and breathed in a deep breath. Yes. He missed this...

– –

Harry opened his eyes, sighed, and smiled. It was a strange sort of contentment. An odd feeling. The feeling from having something you treasured returned to you, after having thought it lost.

Or... having something that

he

treasured, returned to

him.

He amended.

But still, it had felt like...

Harry shook his head. He had lay in bed with his eyes closed, yet actually still awake, for the last twenty minutes. He had been mulling over his vision from the previous night. It was...

strangeseeing this side of Voldemort. The man had such an appreciation for knowledge. It was strange, in an odd way, to have his suspicions about Tom Riddle and the chamber be confirmed. He had known, on an academic level, that Riddle had been down there. Probably spent loads of time down there.

That Riddle had read those same books that Harry was reading. That he had placed some of them there, himself. It was... interesting to feel the same

affection

for those books while in Voldemort's mind, that Harry himself felt for them. Voldemort saw no distinction between what he learned. Knowledge was power, and it was all worthy of his attention.

The strangest revelation from the previous nights vision had, however, happened towards the

end. It was early in the morning and Wormtail had returned from a trip to the local muggle market – apparently, where ever the manor house Voldemort was living in was, it was near some muggle village. Wormtail had brought a few muggle publications and the newspaper back with him on Voldemort's order. This was apparently a

regular thing

as Voldemort had immediately set down what he was busying himself with and had begun to read the muggle paper. He had told Wormtail to try and acquire some more international publications in the future as well.

Voldemort hated having been out of the loop for so long. The wizarding world had basically sat still during that time, since the wizarding world hardly ever changed or progressed – so set in their ways, wizards were – but the muggles had changed so much, so fast. Especially the last fifteen years. Voldemort felt he needed to reacquaint himself with the technologies and advancements of the muggles. He needed to be prepared.

The thing that left Harry the most...

surprised

was the total lack of thoughts about muggle inferiority. Wasn't that supposed to be Voldemort's thing? The belief that muggles were no better than stupid animals? Filthy, stupid, weak, muggles?

But he hadn't thought that. Harry was surprised to find the man held a surprising amount of respect for their capabilities. But he did consider them a serious threat. He thought them

dangerous. Voldemort kept thinking about the

work

he needed to complete. About his

task. It left Harry confused and feeling like he was missing some bigger-picture thing.

Harry sighed and shook his head. It was like all of the foundational beliefs he had gained over the previous three years had been based on lies, and misinformation. Actually being inside Voldemort's head had shown something Harry had never expected to see.

Voldemort was just... a person.

Albeit, a tremendously

powerful

person, with a hunger for ultimate knowledge and control. But still a

person.

He had always imagined Voldemort as some sort of blood-thirsty monster, incapable of rational thought, who passed his days by torturing people, and planning new and more creative ways to kill muggles. Was any of that true?

And his power... Harry had felt the power that coursed through him when he touched his wand to Wormtail's mark and it had been utterly inebriating. It was dark, and delicious... and that had only been a small fraction of his power!

Harry closed his eyes at the memory of what it had felt like to experience that magic, first hand. Air escaped his lungs in a heavy shuddering breath and he smiled. The memory sent a pleasant curling in his stomach that he didn't want to let go of.

A moment later he sighed again and shook himself out of his growing stupor. It wasn't good to dwell on such things. It wasn't...

healthy.

Harry spent the majority of the morning in the chamber practicing the meditative breathing practice, and the magical focusing techniques. He was beginning to feel the magic coiling in his stomach. His skin tingled with the transformation magic, but nothing had actually happened yet. Still, he was optimistic. It was January 3rd, and the next task wasn't until February 24th. He had a gameplan, and he had time.

He left the chamber and returned to the school for lunch. Ron asked Harry if he wanted to start working on that locator charm, but Harry declined, telling both he and Hermione that he was in the middle of some of his other preparations and wanted to get back to it right away.

Ron was clearly disappointed, and scowled but didn't protest any further.

Harry left the great hall and slipped behind a tapestry into a hidden corridor and pulled the map and cloak out of his bag. He tapped the map, activating it and checked the 2nd floor corridor to make sure the coast was clear so he could re-enter the chamber when he saw Karkaroff's name moving along a corridor in the dungeons towards Snape's office.

Harry frowned and his mind wandered back to the warning from Sirius to keep his eyes open, from last term. Karkaroff was a former Death Eater, and Harry couldn't help but wonder what he might be doing going to speak to Snape.

He made the decision quickly and hurried down the corridor towards the stairs and down into the dungeon.

He pulled out his wand as he got closer and cast a silencing charm over himself. He checked the map again and saw that the two of them were inside Snape's office now. He tapped the map with his wand, ending the spell and put it into his pocket. He hurried down the corridor and stood outside the closed door, pressing his ear to it and trying to listen in.

The voices were too muffled to make out and Harry grumbled in frustration. He wished he knew a spell for eavesdropping through doors, or to increase his hearing, but nothing came to mind.

The voices beyond the door became elevated and suddenly the door flew open. Harry only just barely managed to fly away from the open doorway and press himself against the wall beside it.

"Out!" Snape growled.

"But Severus! You must listen!"

"I must do

nothing!"

Snape hissed in a deadly whisper.

Harry peered around the corner and saw that Karkaroff was holding the left sleeve of his robes up and exposing his forearm to Snape.

"You know what it means, Severus! You must feel it too!"

"Yes of course I have

felt it.

And I know

exactly

what it means. I am no fool, Igor!"

"Dumbledore protects you, Severus. I have no such luxury! Vhen our Lord returns he vill crucify me!"

"That is you're problem,

not mine!"

"But Severus! You must –"

"NO!

Now

get out!"

Karkaroff stood straighter and let his arm fall to his side. He was scowling at Snape, but nodded his head.

"Fine then. But this is not over," Karkaroff said harshly before turning and storming out of the office and down the long dungeon corridor.

Snape stood in the doorway for a long minute before growling angrily, marching back inside and slamming the door shut behind him.

Harry stood there for another minute, trying to comprehend what he had just witnessed.

Karkaroff was a Death Eater. He knew that. Although, apparently, he didn't think that Voldemort would be particularly pleased with him, so maybe he had done something during the last decade that the Dark Lord would be angry about.

It made it rather unlikely that Karkaroff was the Death Eater contact within the school that had put Harry's name in the goblet of fire, though.

But what was really cause for contemplation was the fact that Karkaroff had gone to

Snape.

He had shown

Snape

his mark. This had to have been about what Voldemort did the previous night with Wormtail's mark. Voldemort had pushed his magic through all of the marks to begin activating them. Karkaroff had felt this and had panicked. But Snape said that he had felt it too. That

he knew too. And Karkaroff had come to Snape.

Was Snape a Death Eater!

Did that mean that Snape could have been the one who put Harry's name in the cup?

Harry pushed himself off the wall and began to quickly make his way back towards the second floor. He entered Myrtle's bathroom, walked directly to the sink, and hissed the open command. A few minutes later and he was hissing his way into Slytherin's study, his mind still racing.

Instead of going to the chaise, like he usually did, he went over to Slytherin's desk and set his bag on top. He pulled out some parchment, quill and ink, and sat in the chair.

He sat, staring at the blank page for a few long minutes as he tried to make some order of his thoughts.

Finally he put quill to parchment and began to compose a letter to Sirius. It had been nearly a month since he had last written to his Godfather, and over two months since he had last spoken with him, when he had fire called at the start of November.

Sirius had known that Karkaroff was a Death Eater. Maybe he would know something about Snape too. At the very least, he could act as a sounding board for Harry's theories.

He repeated everything he could recall of the brief bit of conversation he had overheard between Karkaroff and Snape and told Sirius how Karkaroff had been showing Snape his dark mark.

Harry didn't mention his visions to Sirius, even though at the start of term, Sirius had asked him to let him know if he was still having them. He didn't want to share them. They felt sort of... private. Plus he doubted he could properly explain to anyone else what it was like for him to experience them. How when he had a vision of Voldemort, it was as if he

was

Voldemort. He could only imagine how

that

would be received by anyone else.

No. He couldn't tell anyone about his visions. But he still wanted Sirius's opinion on the Snape-Karkaroff encounter. Hopefully it wouldn't take another month for his godfather to actually respond.

– –

The next day was the start of second term. Harry had stayed up late reading, and then had spent another hour laying in bed, buried deep in his mindscape with his companion. Because of this, he had slept in a bit later than he would usually allow himself and was forced to rush through his morning routine, gulp down his two potions, and race down to breakfast.

He jogged down to the Great Hall and briskly walked through the doors. The second he stepped through the doors the room fell eerily quiet. Harry instantly slowed in his stride and looked around the room cautiously. An alarmingly large number of eyes were trained on him. A substantial quantity of snickering began to emanate from the Slytherin table.

Oh, now what?

He grumbled bitterly as he resumed his rough strides to the Gryffindor table. He found Ron and Hermione and walked to them. Hermione was holding the Daily Prophet in her hands and looking devastated. Ron was looking at Harry with a mixture of confusion and disbelief.

A quick glance around the room and Harry was able to note that a

lot

of people were holding the Daily Prophet in their hands.

This can't be good...

He sat down next to Hermione, gave a resigned sigh, and reached out his hand, silently asking for her to hand over the paper.

"Harry –" she began to say in weak protest, but he shot her a look that booked no discussion. She sighed heavily, nodded her head, and handed over the paper.

Harry unfolded it and laid it out in front of him. What he saw there, in big bold letters, printed across the front page, was definitely

not something

he had been expecting.

THE BOY WHO LIVED TO BE GAY?

By Rita Skeeter

Harry closed his eyes. He reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger as he lowered his head slightly.

"Harry?" Hermione asked in a quiet, careful voice.

She leaned in closer when she got no response. "Harry? It's... it's not so bad..." She paused when she thought she heard something. His shoulders jerked and shook for a moment and she feared he might be about to burst into sobs! She leaned in even closer and turned her head to the side, trying to get a look at his bowed head.

Her brow furrowed in confusion when she heard what sounded like a...

chuckle?

Harry snorted and the damn broke. He began to chuckle harder and louder before his held fell back and he erupted in laughter. His whole body shook with the force of his laugh and it lasted for a few solid minutes before he had finally calmed himself down enough that only the occasional snort, or hiccoughed-chuckle escaped him.

"Er... mate? You alright?" Ron asked hesitantly, apparently worried that Harry might of gone totally barmy. Harry nodded his head and let out the sort of sigh you give when you've just had a good laugh. Which he had, so it was appropriate.

"Well you're taking it loads better than I expected," Ron observed. "So it's just rubbish, right? That damned Skeeter woman will print anything!"

Harry shook his head, still calming from his laugh. "No Ron. It's true," he said as he raised his head and gave the ginger an amused smile.

Ron's face went stark pale. Harry heard several of the people sitting within hearing range actuallygasp. He rolled his eyes.

"Although, I wonder how the ruddy hell she found out," Harry said as he sat up straight and smoothed the paper out again. He glanced over to Hermione, and marginally narrowed his eyes. "You didn't let it slip, did you?"

She gasped and looked horribly offended. "Of course not! Harry, I would never had told anyone!"

Harry grinned and nodded his head. "Yeah, I know. Still had to ask."

"Whoa... wait. Wait, Harry... what..." Ron was spluttering now and looking, frantically, back and forth between Harry and Hermione. "You're...? But what about Fleur! And

you! You knew?" he exclaimed, pointing at Hermione, accusingly.

"Ron, did you even

read

the article!" Hermione asked in exasperation.

"I skimmed it!" he said defensively. "Besides, I assumed it was just more of Skeeter's rubbish!"

"Fleur

knew. Or, at least, she suspected before hand, and had it figured out by the end of the ball," Harry said with a one-shouldered shrug as he reached over and began to scoop some scrambled eggs onto his plate. He was pointedly ignoring the dozens of sets of eyes still locked on him intently, and the roar of hushed whispers.

Let them stare. Stupid gawking idiots.

"She knew?" Hermione gasped. "You don't think..."

Harry shrugged. "If it wasn't you, it had to be her. But I really didn't expect this."

"Do you think that maybe she was bitter? That you took her to the dance, even though you weren't really interested?" Hermione asked.

"It really doesn't add up... I mean, she was really good about it after the dance when we talked. She seemed

thankful. Said she had a great time. I mean, if she'd gone with a straight bloke, her aura would have been effecting him all night long, and all he would have done is drool on her and tried to grope her. She said she was grateful for being able to attend the dance with someone capable of coherent conversation. It really doesn't make sense that she would have gone to Skeeter."

Hermione made a noise in her throat and looked thoughtful.

"Harry..." Ron croaked weakly and Harry looked back up at the red-head sitting opposite him at the table. "You're... you're seriously

gay?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes Ron. I'm gay."

He heard another rush of whispers, echo through the hall as word spread like fiendfyre. Harry shook his head and chuckled weakly before turning back to his plate and stuffing another bite of food in his mouth.

A moment passed where Ron's face was a mask of disbelief and shock, finally his gaze settled on Hermione. "And you knew!" he said accusingly.

Hermione sighed. "Yes, Ron. I knew."

"Why? How?"

"Harry told me," she said in a hushed voice as she glanced around the crowded room that was still intently watching their every move.

"When?" Ron shrieked slightly, and his voice cracked.

"Um... the last week of November, I think. It really doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters!"

"Ron, don't make a scene!" Hermione reprimanded with a harsh hiss.

"Why didn't you tell

me?"

Ron asked, accusingly again, as he turned to Harry this time.

Harry sighed and let his fork fall to his plate. "It didn't come up. I also didn't see how it should matter."

"Why did you ask Fleur to the dance if you don't even fancy her?"

Harry blinked. "What does it matter if I asked Fleur to the dance?"

"Well, someone else could have asked her!"

"Who?

You?" Harry responded, leaning back in his chair and giving the ginger a pointed look.

"Yeah, maybe!" Ron said defensively, sitting up more in his seat.

"Do you realize that one of the biggest reasons she said yes to my invitation is

because I'm gay?"

"What sense does that make?" Ron exclaimed.

Harry let his hand hit his forehead and groaned in frustration. He let his hand fall back down and resigned himself to actually having this conversation.

"Since I don't fancy girls, I'm immune to her veela aura.

That's why.

Try empathizing with Fleur for a minute. No matter where she goes, guys follow her. They fall over each other to be near her. They practically worship the ground she walks on, and the second any of them open their mouths, they sound like blathering idiots because their ability to think properly is being inhibited by their hormones, which are being triggered into overdrive by her veela aura.

"And if guys aren't acting like brainless morons around her, they're trying to grope her, and assault her. By going with me, she didn't have to deal with any of that. That's why it makes sense."

Ron scowled back angrily, folded his arms over his chest and proceeded to pout like a child. Harry almost laughed, but he knew that would only make Ron more mad.

Harry picked his fork back up and resumed eating while he looked down at the paper and began to actually read the article.

He frowned as he came across a paragraph that made reference to some of the conversation that he, Fleur, Krum, and Hermione had, had while sitting at a table together at the dance.

Harry leaned back and pointed at it while turning to Hermione. "How do you suppose she got this?"

Hermione leaned over and re-read that section of the article. "Perhaps Fleur told her? She was there."

Harry frowned. "It really doesn't seem to fit..." he went back to reading and got to the part that described Fleur confronting him about his sexuality at the end of the night. It painted it into a much different picture of course, making it look like he had tricked her, and toyed with her feelings, in a way that only Skeeter could pen so skillfully.

"Are you sure that Fleur wasn't really upset?" Hermione asked again.

Harry shook his head. "I really was sure... I'll have to go see her. Talk to her."

"She could just lie to you," Hermione pointed out.

The corner of Harry's mouth turned up into a secret smirk that he quickly pushed down. "I think I can read her pretty well, actually. I'll know if she's lying."

Hermione gave him a skeptical look, and rose a single eyebrow questioningly. Harry, however, chose not to elaborate.