Chapter Text
Chapter 9 – Cracking eggs
“Close it down!” yelled Ron, pushing fingers into his ears to escape the sound. It didn’t seem to be working. Ron’s face was contorted in ugly snark and his head turning redder every passing second.
“Yeah!” shouted Neville, looking deadly pale, nearly passing out. Seamus with Dean didn’t look any better and wore equally pained expressions. The noise was horrendous and inescapable. Harry’s arm cramped at the worst moment and he fumbled closing it up, letting the item fully open again. Grimacing, he had to put his wand away, use both hands and a lot of force to push it close.
*clack*
Harry’s shoulders sagged in relief. Silence. Everyone’s pain-contorted faces visibly brightened as soon as Harry closed that blasted thing. The egg was a nightmare. Harry shuddered to think about opening it again. He would have to, if he wanted to know the clue someday, but not today. At the moment he didn’t want to touch it again. Worst of all, he learned nothing from this stunt. Harry stared at it as if glaring harsher could give him answers. It didn’t.
“Finally!” exclaimed Ron, poking his ears, trying to get his normal hearing back. Harry did the same, to no visible effect. Ron grumbled something, but Harry barely registered it, his ears still. Bah, he wasn’t the one insisting on inspecting the Egg up close and personal when it opened by some random pull. Ron might have found the way to show the puzzle, but solving it? Seemed impossible.
With nothing better to do until the ringing in his ears subsided, Harry’s mind drifted back. Being pestered about the Egg was no fun, so Harry gave up to the pressure of his peers. Opening the clue at his dorm was a bad idea in hindsight, but the damage was already done. The Egg only induced headaches all around and mostly verbal curses for his action from his fellow Gryffindors. Hey! He wasn’t the only one hyped to open it up, so how it was his fault now? Stupid Ron, stupid wankers, only fooling around. Harry was sure Seamus sent an actual stinging hex at his arse in an unfocused moment, right after Ron opened it up, leaving him in an even worse mood and with a twitchy itch. It wasn’t as if he could prove it and say Seamus’ number dipped by 2 points around that time, right? In every case imagined, boys would either claim he was crazy or demand to prove it. Neither option was desirable.
“How did you do it?” asked Harry out of nowhere, breaking his rest.
“You want to open it again? Are you nuts?” asked Ron and looked at Harry as if he was a patient from a mental asylum. Affronted, he did not appreciate the accusation. Yet, before he could shout back something rude, Harry realized Ron had a point, the question could be taken that way. Harry should have been more clear when asking.
“No way, I don’t want to repeat it,” said Harry quickly and rolled his eyes.
“I just want to know so I could avoid that in the future,” elaborated Harry. Truly. That was the main motivation behind his original question. He did not wish to repeat the opening of that blasted thing any time soon. Sooner or later, he was going to fiddle with it again, and he would appreciate not stumbling upon that solution once again by accident.
“Sure.” Ron wholeheartedly agreed after that and showed him the way. Harry, with some effort, memorized the short sequence of pushes and pulls, carefully, so as to not trigger the opening again. As soon as that was done, all the boys excused themselves and went their separate ways. Well, Ron’s excuse that he was going to play chess with Dean seemed normal enough, but when Neville asked Seamus to do the same, Harry knew something was up. These two, playing chess, together? Bollocks.
Harry realized what was happening. They were running away. Abandoned after one fucking wailing sound. It was a horrible screech, but still. He wanted to shout and tell their useless asses, but couldn’t muster the energy. Harry should be angry at them, but if he was in their position, he would gladly do the same and forget about the egg's existence. The problem was, he couldn’t do that. He was the champion and had to do this thing, no matter what. Harry sighed and decided to leave the room as well.
Not keen on wailing in depression, Harry went to cool his head to the Common Room, sitting on the couch. Why had he opted to grab the egg on the move was beyond him. So he sat and stared hatefully upon the egg, his mood in the gutter. Ron was nowhere to be found and Neville practically ran away into the hallways after their eyes met, any pretense about chess game forgotten. Harry sighed. Nobody wanted to be around that flipping shrieking thing and even older boys avoided Harry as if he caught a contagious disease. It was truly strange, but the consequence was that most of the Common Room was filled with girls. Either someone talked (Seamus) or it was that loud. Harry didn’t know which was worse. He shuddered just remembering the sound, his ears in phantom pain even an hour later.
“Do you need help?” asked Hermione plopping energetically into the couch next to him, startling him from his grim mood. Why was she so preppy? Harry felt even more dour, lethargic, and annoyed now. He definitely not glared at her, not at all. It took a moment before his mind caught up. Hermione was here. Solution appeared. A savior arrived! Harry brightened his surly face and grinned at her, not bothered by her puzzled expression. He was glad to see her. Ron must have filled her in when he was deep in thought (depressed) over the Egg. It was quite clear where Harry needed that help. Hermione wasn’t subtle when she kept glancing at the egg.
“Sure, that would be nice, suit yourself,” answered Harry easily and full of relief, moving his hand in the air in the right direction, vaguely pointing at the object. Honestly, he was at wits’ end to do anything with the egg. It was frustrating. There was no alternative way to open that thing as far as he knew. He tried.
Hermione eagerly grabbed the egg and went to study it as if it was something precious. “Ooh. It looks so pretty. And can you see these symbols? Are these glyphs? Maybe it’s a runic language. This could be Norse, a really old one, like futhark or even elder futhark,” and Harry’s mind was gone. Fuzz and buzz, Harry could see Hermione’s mouth moving, but his ears were unable to pick up and decipher individual words. Was she speaking French? It seemed like it. Maybe it was Latin. Didn’t matter either way. Instead of trying to comprehend what the heck was she talking about, he nodded, called a few “yeahs” and “sures” in the appropriate moments, and made her talk it out. Not like he had a chance to understand anyway and offer his insight. He wanted to avoid a lecture explaining all the words he didn’t know as well. That would be a chore.
“Thanks, Hermione,” called out Harry suddenly, his mouth moving on its own before he could stop himself, interrupting her stream of words mid-sentence. Harry froze. The timing was pretty bad, but there was no taking it back. He was seriously thankful for her help. Ron offered as well, but that was before they managed to open it, Harry doubted that the offer was still on the table. He did not have anyone else to rely on. At least not near him. Sirius?
“Of course, Harry,” replied Hermione after a moment of a slight hung up. Yep, she noticed he hadn’t paid attention, making Harry wince a bit. Then she smiled and Harry knew everything was all right. And the number above her didn’t change, which was reassuring.
“Can I take it with me?” asked Hermione eagerly. “I have some books that might help at my dorm,” continued Hermione, tapping her foot, likely already seeing herself there. Yeah, some things were the same as always, thought Harry fondly as he smiled. He liked it this way. The constant changes and challenges, particularly this year, were giving him a hard time.
“Sure,” replied Harry, joyful about the prospect of being free of such a burden and that he wouldn’t have to ponder about it anymore, at least for now.
“Great!” exclaimed Hermione and scurried away at such a speed that Harry wondered if she used some spell to move quicker. He blinked twice and she was gone.
Harry plopped back deeper into the seat and stared at the ceiling for a time, lazily sprawled on the couch, thinking about nothing. He was nearly dozing off when he suddenly heard a scream again. It sounded familiar. His left eye suddenly twitched. Oh no. The Egg! Harry did not warn Hermione about the opening and the screech! Fuck!
In less than ten seconds flat, a large number of girls poured out of the Girl’s Dorm as if a dung bomb had been thrown in there. It might as well, as the real reason was not all that different. They all run right into the Common Room, zoning their laser sight at Harry and stomping in his way like an angry mob. He shrunk into himself. Oops.
- •o• -
Hermione sadly had no clue yet and Harry was lost at how to proceed. Nobody else even offered to help. He couldn’t fault them for that. It was obvious why, after the screeching treatment, but it still hurt. The whole Gryffindor house knew about the horrible egg sound in no time at all. Harry’s behind was still feeling tender because of it. Why was everyone so obsessed with the stinging hexes? Especially girls. He blamed Seamus for starting that trend. Stupid Egg, making him enemies. Harry sighed, sad. It wasn’t nearly as bad or dramatic. Fellow students still showed positive numbers. The few he remembered from before seemed to drop some points overall, but that was it. Harry also wouldn’t want to do anything with the annoying egg if he didn’t have to. Just his rotten luck. Must have been in his blood. Right when the Gryffindor in general seemed to be nicer, he was left disappointed and on his own again. Would it be so bad that something worked his way at least once? He wished for that wholeheartedly.
That brought him back to the issue. Hermione. She was just one person, after all. He had a high opinion of her researching skills, but would her help be enough? Hermione wanted to silence the screech or at least work around it. She took Harry into Greenhouses and together they tried to crack the issue of the sound with mufflers that were supposed to be used on mandragoras. It helped tremendously against the sound but got them nowhere despite it. They could probe and experiment all they wanted, but the scream was as if stuck on a loop, very unpleasant. While Hermione thought the screech was the issue, Harry didn’t share that opinion. His instinct was telling the horrible sound it was producing was important, but he wasn’t able to tell her how and why.
Taking a break from it, Harry thought about what could he do about the egg problem. He could offer to do research with Hermione, but poring over books wasn’t his favorite pastime, so he would rather not. Harry needed help. He needed Sirius. The sooner the better. He wished there was some secure way to contact him. Was there such a thing as a magical phone? Wizards could do the fireplace trick, but that was dangerous and unsafe to use again. He could ask the Room of Requirements later. Perhaps if he wasn’t as vague as he was with dragons, it may offer a clearer solution? It was unfortunate, but the Room had limitations he had yet to discover. In the end, it wasn’t as helpful to Harry as he thought it would be. The place was great, but using it to find answers was iffy.
Harry checked out the corridors with the Marauder’s Map, avoiding everyone, and hiding under the cloak. He had noticed lately it seemed smaller. No way he was fitting Ron and Hermione under it anymore. Deep in nostalgia, Harry moved along. Nobody saw him skulking around after they were all supposed to be sleeping. He observed a few dots moving about, but prefects or random fellow rule breakers didn’t bother him. They had moving patterns and with the map, predictable. Also, people sneaking around generally didn’t want to be seen either. He was left mainly routinely checking out unpredictable elements as Mrs. Norris and Filch, as they had a habit of springing out of nowhere. The corridor he was in right now was thankfully all clear and they were nowhere close.
All the teachers were in what Harry thought were their rooms or offices. Well, Snape was missing, but it was nothing out of the ordinary. It happened a few times, so Harry was unsurprised. Most teachers were not moving. Were they sleeping? Did all of them live in the school? It seemed like it. The exception was Moody. Harry frowned at what he saw. Why was Crouch visiting him that late at night? They were definitely in the same room, making the picture in his head weird. Moody giving Harry hints was already suspicious. Crouch, on the other hand, was the one who pushed the problem with portkey use. Icky tosser. Harry was not looking forward to resolving said issue. What could they have in common? Perhaps some conspiracy? Was Bagman involved? He tried to “help” Harry as well, so maybe. Damn, his nerves were jittery. Seeing the enemy on every corner was definitely not healthy, but Harry couldn’t help himself.
With that worry on his mind, Harry arrived quickly at the Owlery, unbothered by anyone. There wasn’t anyone truly blocking his path. All he had to do was check the map every corner and he was fine. Perhaps because of the upcoming night, owls were active and not many were around. Well, most of them. As soon as he entered, Harry brightened up, shedding the cloak. Hedwig was not out and was instead swooping in. Did she know he would come by? How?
“Hi Hedwig, how are you girl?” asked Harry, relieved to see her again. Hedwig let out a quiet shriek, landed on his shoulder, and nipped at his hair affectionately. Harry did not mind, his hair was a disordered nest of random strands by default anyway, and she could hardly make it worse. He patted her head and scratched her feathers to her great enjoyment. If Harry had any plan to send a letter by other owls, that plan evaporated and left his mind. He simply couldn’t force himself to do it. Not when she looked at him like that.
“You feel for a long journey?” asked Harry instead, offering cooked lamb chops he swiped on his way from the kitchens, they were still warm. Hedwig hooted in confirmation, already munching on the meat.
Dobby was a miracle worker, managing it that fast. Harry knew they were from the dinner menu, but that was hours ago. He would have to do something nice for the elf for all his recently provided help. Well, not just for the meat, but for Room as well. Also for delivering the cure. It was a lot he owed the little elf for. Harry was glad that Dobby was back at Hogwarts.
Harry’s heart felt at ease with the companionship of Hedwig. Seeing her bathed in the moonlight highlighted her beauty, she was nearly shining. Harry was altogether not surprised to see the number above her head. It was high. 109. Eyes wide, Harry smiled. Despite him not paying much attention to her in the last week, Hedwig had the highest number he had seen so far, confirming Harry’s suspicion and budding theory that 100 was not in fact maxed out opinion or affection or whatever this number represented. Yeah. Hedwig was the best and one who truly understood him. Well, she was the one who knew him the most, especially when he wasn’t at Hogwarts. The summers were truly terrible times, not just for him, but for her too. Not even Hermione knew how bad it was and while Ron, Fred, and George suspected, they never said anything. But Hedwig knew it all.
As Harry was petting satisfied and fed Hedwig, his mind strayed. Although Harry wanted nothing else more than to send her straight to Sirius, he was worried. Harry lamented over the hardship of sending her anywhere. Problem that didn’t exist last year. So unfair. Harry knew she was very noticeable and recognizable, not that he would ever fault her for it. There was a danger in sending her out. Fudge would likely keep watch over Hedwig to look where Harry sent letters precisely for the reason Harry wanted to right now, contacting Sirius. Curse that imbecilic, yet also strangely clever minister. Fudge could be a real pain in the arse if he wanted. Harry thought he was decent enough before the 3. year, but all of his goodwill evaporated after what he had done with Sirius’s case. Sending Hedwig to Sirius was something Fudge likely expected Harry would do, which was precisely why he shouldn’t.
Hedwig was smart, but he was not willing to bet her and Sirius’ life and health on a probability or chance of slipping to him fine. No, it was too dangerous. He lacked the knowledge about how could she be tracked. Smarter would be to send some random owl instead. Hermione’s advice was sound and Harry thought about Pigwidgeon, but decided against it. It was hard to trust other owls with such an important letter and this one didn’t look up to the task, no offense to Ron. Didn’t Sirius technically buy him? What if there was some accounting record tying Sirius to it?
In every case, Harry would have to ask Ron to borrow him, something he wasn’t keen on doing. Not right after they recently had the egg incident. They patched things up somewhat and were back on speaking terms now, but Harry still carried the stint Ron’s actions caused. Harry could remember the quote from some Petunia’s show she watched on TV. “Broken trust doesn’t heal in a single day.” Harry truly wanted to let bygones be, but every time he looked or spoke with Ron, he remembered the distance and scorn that was shown to him until very recently and simply couldn’t. At least he had Hedwig, always loyal and never showing her back to him. Harry smiled at her, still scratching the spot under her head.
Another idea he liked better was sending Hedwig somewhere else. And Harry knew precisely who could help. Professor Remus Lupin used to be his father’s and Sirius’s friend and maybe confidant. As a plus, both men his father used to know worked out the misunderstanding standing in the way of their friendship at the end of last year. The Professor knew Sirius was innocent as well so he could easily forward the message to him. It was a simple, yet brilliant idea. Professor Remus Lupin as a middleman should also be capable of detecting and destroying whatever tracking spells Ministry may have pulled on Hedwig. Professor Lupin was definitely capable.
Would the Ministry be able to trace Hedwig to him? It wasn’t completely unlikely, but there wasn’t anything they could do about it except steal his letter or reprimand Professor Lupin, could they? Maybe they could. Harry frowned. Tough for him, it was the risk he was willing to take and put on the man. Lupin owed him something, heck the man nearly killed him last year by accident. He owed him a lot.
Remus Lupin. Harry sighed with sadness as he wrote that name on the envelope. It was hard to disassociate him from the title of professor. If only he could trust him to be his guide and help instead of Sirius. While Harry accepted his reasoning for why Harry couldn’t live with him, he still resented Lupin that he didn’t visit at all, getting him no present or even a postcard over the years. Zero presence. And it wasn’t because of the Dursleys disposing of it. On one hand, recent Ministry actions made it clear that he would never be able to live with Lupin if the laws were as they were, yet that was no excuse to ignore him, especially last year! No Vernon or any bullshit magical protection stood between them in school.
Harry was still disappointed that his father was never mentioned in any session they had together or downplayed entirely to make it look as if they were barely acquaintances and it took Sirius to barge in to admit they used to be friends. Harry felt gratitude to the man for the exclusive teaching on Patronus he got, but he hadn’t really clicked with the man as he did with Sirius. Lupin was friendly, but cold and detached. Too professional, too rigid. The stark difference between Sirius who managed to be enthusiastic and affectionate in a considerably shorter time they had together. In part, Harry could see himself in Sirius. And Sirius simply seemed to care. Something that Harry rarely saw in any adult around. Well, McGonagall did, but often with the wrong reasons or flipped him a “you know nothing, child” card when he needed her help like with the Stone. He was wrong at that time, but still, she had done nothing about the situation and even urged him to drop it. She wasn’t much of a help with the “Heir of Slytherin” in the second year either. Did he even try again? Harry wracked his brain, unconvinced. Oh, right, he went to Lockhart instead. Merlin, how foolish he was. While it was Ron’s idea, he could say no but didn’t.
Relying on Remus Lupin wasn’t something he desired all that much anymore than he did with McGonagall, but he was out of options. He could ask Dobby. As that idea formed in his mind, Hedwig nipped his fingers, reminding him she was waiting still, and Harry scratched that plan along Hedwig’s feathers. Harry shouldn't really treat Dobby like that. He wasn’t an all-solution to everything. Harry certainly did not wish to treat him the same as his former master, Malfoy. He had an experience of being an errand boy in the neighborhood and turning Dobby into one was not really appealing. He couldn’t take letters from Hedwig as well. She was carrying so little mail already. Maybe if she failed? No. Harry refused to believe it. Hedwig would succeed.
Harry hastily wrote some extra lines explaining the situation and stuffed it into the envelope.
“Okay. Here it is. Fly to Remus Lupin. Be careful Hedwig, someone may follow you,” said Harry, worried about her.
“Hoot,” answered Hedwig as she dropped from the ledge and spread her wings. Her answer was calm as if she knew already and was prepared. Was she? Harry wouldn’t be surprised. Hedwig had a knack for predicting Harry's moves, especially when mail or food was involved. She was the most intelligent animal he had seen. Well, Griffins were decent as well, maybe he should ask Sirius about Buckbeak next time.
Brr. Was that the night chill he felt on his back right now? Yeah, that must have been the case. It was rather chilly out there. He should cover himself with the cloak again.
No longer feeling someone was watching him from the dark, Harry went down the stairs, rapid movement down there caught his interest. Was someone going up? Harry definitely heard something. How did he miss that? A quick scan of the Map revealed it was none other than the French Champion. What was Fleur doing here? Having no answers, Harry quickly stuffed the Map into his robes and moved to the side, leaned on the wall, and remained still. She should pass him just fine. There was no reason at all for her to go that far off the railing and toward the hung portraits.
“Huh, who’s there?” suddenly asked Fleur in a thick accent. Harry had yet to see her, as she was about one level below him. Did she see him? Harry froze, adrenaline pumping in his veins. After a while of nothing happening, Harry made sure to recheck that he wasn’t showing a foot or anything, but all of his body was hidden just fine.
“Stop! Right now!” shouted Fleur from somewhere below as she ran up the stairs. What was going on? Harry wanted to look, but he was too afraid to move from the spot. He did not want her to ram straight into him on her way.
“Ahaha! What a face. Now show me some more of that. Here is another!” shouted the voice Harry knew implicitly. Peeves.
“Expulso!” shouted Fleur, rounding the corner and evading something flying at her. Harry could see her now. A small explosion in her wake shook the wall he was leaning on.
“Missed! Try again!” laughed Peeves as he flew above her. Harry glared at him, annoyed. The Map was awesome, but as he noticed right now, it had a flaw. It didn’t show ghosts. And the worst of them all was already proving himself a problem. Harry watched as if in slow motion as Peeves stopped a few steps above him and threw a dung bomb out of somewhere. Did he have them in his pockets or something? How did that work? Harry wasn’t able to move away as fast as he wished, he was not willing to give up his position. Unfortunately, the ugly and stupid Dung bomb crashed on the ground right next to Harry, spilling its contents around. The expelled smell made it under the cloak in no time at all and made Harry heave. It reeked so badly. He had to put both hands on his mouth just to not hurl. Damn it.
“Huh? There you are! Stupefy!” exclaimed the voice of Fleur and Harry was left no time to react. He tried to shield himself with the cloak, but-
- •o• -
‘What? That wasn’t the stupid ghost, was it?’ thought Fleur. Something much heavier than a ghost dropped to the ground. Was that a severed foot? Such an odd sight. Another horrible prank from that ghost? She crept closer, wand ready. This didn’t seem like a prank, more like-
“Nope! Ahaha, missed again, delusional girl!” screamed an annoying poltergeist appearing from behind her back, making her turn around. It only made her anger boil even more, and her short blue hair started to stick up from her arms involuntarily. It was all their fault! Everything here was horrible. Fleur wanted to scream her heart out. She had to deal with this annoying piece of crap instead. These Englishmen were truly incompetent if they were unable to deal with such a pest and menace in the school of all places. Premier her foot. Well, then there was Durmstrang. From what she heard, it was likely even worse there, she wouldn't last a week there if some of the rumors were true. Still despite her annoyance, she was not eager to do the job for these incompetents. Taking a few calming breaths, she focused her calm anger on the poltergeist mocking her once again.
She knew her limits, it was possible to exterminate the ghost in theory, but as inexperienced as she was, it was unlikely to succeed without help. It wouldn’t do to make a fool of herself dabbling in what she barely understood. It may also cause a small international incident because of a complex issue of who the ghost belonged to and that was hardly in her agenda. Her representation of France and indirectly her heritage already suffered and was mocked by these British papers. She did not wish to get herself into a situation that would discredit her more.
“Avifors,” spelled out Fleur as she transfigured a nearby statue into many colorful birds and sent them to intercept the perverted ghost. That should teach him a lesson and give her some time to think of better spells. Perhaps petrifying would work for a while, or encasing him in a bubble?
“Ack! Noo! Go away stupid birds! Aaah!” screamed the ghost as a little girl and flew straight through the wall, leaving birds peppered into it with their beaks. Fleur chucked at the comical and unexpected sight. She wanted to just obscure his vision and let the birds pester him, but this worked, too. Who knew that the ghost was scared of birds? She would remember that.
Now, what to do with the one hidden? Where was he, she? Leg? Anything? She failed to see anything sticking out from earlier. The spot she hit earlier was empty, no one was there. Puzzled, Fleur crouched to the floor but found nothing hiding around. She did not imagine the foot, right? Before she started to doubt her vision, there were a couple of things to do.
“Revelio,” muttered Fleur as she looked for any signs. She was not proficient with the spell and unfortunately, it showed. Nothing. If the one she was seeking to reveal had a cloak that was half decent, she wasn’t surprised. Thinking about it logically, the separation looked just like when someone was only partially covered by an invisibility cloak. She had seen her father taking in and taking out his cloak many times. Someone must have been there a moment ago.
“Merde,” cursed Fleur as it was another matter of being harassed by a ghost when nobody was there, but now she definitely had a witness. Someone powerful or rich, judging by their use of a cloak. Maybe both. How much has this person seen? The situation was far from ideal. If this person thought about blackmailing her, they had another thing coming.
“Come on. Reveal yourself. I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to talk,” sang Fleur as she infused her melodious voice with her innate magic. It was a risk to show her abilities so openly, but she was frustrated. No one would be getting better of her.
She nearly lost all hope and thought the person had gotten away already or she imagined it when nothing responded at first. She wanted to give up when- There! Fleur saw a movement. The air shimmered and she heard something move a few steps below her.
“Stupefy!” called out Fleur once again as she took the aim, but it was as if chasing a mirage. The shimmering air dissipated and nothing came out of it. Something was definitely there, but she couldn’t hit it. Did she miss it?
- •o• -
‘Damn it. That was close. Was it my cloak again?’ thought Harry, completely unaffected by the spell. His heart was beating so fast he was sure it gave him away. He had no idea how or why the cloak worked against that spell twice, but he did not question it. One less problem to worry about. He had to get away. Fast.
“Stop hiding. I know you are there,” spoke Fleur in a pleasant voice. It was nice and calming to listen to, which made it all the harder to move forward. For a moment, he wanted to comply. His hand unconsciously clasped the cloak to throw it away, but he stopped himself. Instead, Harry made one hesitant step and another down the stairs by sheer will. His movements were jerky and his mind was in disarray. On one hand, he wanted to give out to the voice and on the other run away unnoticed and these feelings were crashing against each other inside of him.
“Show yourself!” commanded Fleur suddenly, making Harry momentarily unable to overcome the urge. Hesitating once more, his hand clasping the cloak slipped in a ragged uncontrolled move and the cloak slid down from him as a result.
“Ah,” exclaimed Fleur as Harry revealed himself and looked straight at her alarmed face. He was caught. Now what?
“Petrificus-” chanted Harry. First spell he thought of, relying purely on his instinct.
“Stupefy!” shouted Fleur as she swished her hand against him, her casting much faster. Harry carelessly jumped aside. Thankfully, it missed him now that he lacked the cloak to shield him and he slid to a stop.
“-Totalus!” shouted Harry back, finishing the spell. He surmised that if it worked well on Neville, it should work again, now. Maybe. Jumping mid-cast messed up his aim. Proper wand movement was something he totally didn’t do and his pronunciation was likely shit, especially with that pause, but he had to try.
“Prote-” Harry heard her casting the next spell and reacted before she could finish. Harry jumped blindly from his spot again, not even looking at her, but nothing was sent in his way and his opponent unexpectedly remained quiet.
*thud*
Harry carefully peeked from behind the statue, he more of a felt then saw something drop on the ground. Looking back at the staircase, he noticed Fleur faceplanted on the stairs. Harry winced. That looked painful. Harry stood there for a moment of indecision, adrenaline wearing off. Was it a ploy? Should he do something, help her? Leave her and dip?
“Miaou,” protruded from the silence, interrupting his panicked thoughts. A cat. Harry’s head turned around slowly and there she sat, a few stairs below his position. He gulped uncomfortably. He knew that unmistakable sound. Mrs. Norris. Fuck.
Where and how did she get here? Harry freaked out. He picked the cloak and jogged up to Fleur, turned her on the back, and started to drag her away by her hands. This was bad, super bad. If he was caught by Filch, he would be in a world of trouble. And he couldn’t even stun the stupid cat, considering the accusation from Filch from the second year. Why was Fleur not moving? She was constantly stuck. They barely got up 2 steps, making any progress meaningless. Fuck, why did he use that spell? He didn’t know a counter, damn it. She was heavy and very unhelpful in her rigid state. Harry realized that this struggle to move her was pointless, they had no time for it. Norris was stressing him out. Every time he looked behind, she was there, mocking him with her gaze. They both knew her master was close.
“Mrs. Norris. Is something up the stairs?” asked the man Harry wished to never see again. Filch, sounding muffled, quiet, and far, was the only saving grace in the situation. He wasn’t here yet. Good, but it was a matter of time. What should he do? He had to hide, fast. Harry pushed Fleur up and along his shoulder and dragged her up the stairs. It was going much better this way. They were making some progress, but it was still painfully slow. They were never getting away from him if they continued like this. It wasn’t exactly quiet as well, but his options were limited. That absolutely creepy cat was still staring and following him a few steps behind. Would the cloak even help? Harry wasn’t sure.
“Miaou,” cried the creeper once again. He wanted to blast her but knew that would only make his case worse.
“I’m coming, what is it?” responded Filch, huffing, short of breath and clearly much closer now. Harry heard him running up the stairs. He had no time. Filch was nearly there. Finally reaching a platform, Harry leaned over to a bulky frame of a painting to rest for a few labored breaths. Should he risk it with the cloak? Run? Leave Fleur is bait? Wake her up? No, all these options were bad. Mrs. Norris would sniff him out and running out, leaving Fleur here was a coward’s way. He ain’t no Slytherin to save his own skin. He would have to use the cloak for both of them and hope for the best. Perhaps Filch would go away if he saw nothing? Harry clasped a railing to the side to push himself back on the track, but his hand dropped at least a foot down and was accompanied by a noticeable click.
“Wha-oah,” breathed out Harry nearly silently as the solid surface behind his back gave up and sent both him and Fleur stumbling into the darkness below.
*click* and the light was no more.
