Chapter Text
Some would say hormones were a necessary evil. They are essential for regulating biology, and thus the necessary functions of life itself. However, in the course of enforcing said biological changes throughout life, they also had the byproduct of making people act like idiots. Especially teenagers.
To say the denizens of Hogwarts, including the students of the visiting schools, were excited about the upcoming Yule Ball would be an understatement. It was all the students 4th year and up talked about, while those 3rd year and below remained sullen and frustrated. It wasn’t uncommon to find students grouped together, discussing who they wanted to ask out, or who they were already taking. Nor was it unusual to spot individuals make utter fools of themselves whilst performing the deed of asking their intended to the ball. One of the few who had actually accomplished and succeeded at the task smoothly was, surprisingly enough, Fred Weasley. Harry would admit only to himself that he was envious of how Fred had simply gotten Angelina’s attention at dinner one night, mouthed the question while pantomiming a couple’s dance, and had received a smile and a nod in return. Ron was very obviously envious, given his lack of luck so far in trying to find a date. Gryffindor may be the house of the brave, but this scenario required a different sort of bravery altogether. He bemoaned to Harry quite often how difficult it was to ask a girl, grumbling how they often moved in packs.
So far, Harry hadn’t made a move on asking anyone just yet. He wasn’t blind to the fact that his fame would make him a potential target to those who would love to have the chance to be photographed on his arm. That’s all it would take for the rumors to spread across the European Wizarding World, let alone Hogwarts. No, he wouldn’t give Skeeter the opportunity, and he refused to let himself be used in that manner by a potential partner. If he was going to ask someone, it’d have to be somebody who knew him, wouldn’t abuse that fact, and knew exactly what they were getting themselves into by going to the ball with him.
Unfortunately, that didn’t keep potential dates from asking him instead. So far, he hadn’t encountered (or dodged) anything as embarrassing as Ginny’s valentine in second year. However, he’d had to politely decline four students: three from Hogwarts (a Hufflepuff and two Ravenclaws) and one from Beauxbatons. He’d been slightly surprised and flattered that a 5th year Ravenclaw boy by the name of Arjuna Balaji had approached him in the library (which was now becoming his familiar haunt, not that he’d ever admit it to Hermione aloud), a few days ago. He hadn’t expected any boys to ask him. In fact, he never even considered a boy before in a romantic way. He’d only just started thinking about the concept of dating that year but was still hesitant to take the leap given his fame and luck.
However, male or female, finding a date wasn’t his primary focus at the moment. Before he could even think about a date, he had to first make sure he didn’t look like a fool out on the dance floor. Which is why he found himself on Saturday morning in a mostly empty classroom on the 6th floor with Ron, Hermione, and surprisingly, Ginny.
Hermione had indeed kept her promise that she would teach Harry how to dance. After Harry’s ‘episode’ earlier that week, he’d spent the rest of that day in the Hospital Wing trying to fight off his migraine. He felt well enough to attempt going to dinner in the Great Hall. Admittedly, the sounds and smells were certainly a bit louder than usual, but this time, it only caused a dull ache rather than head splitting agony. After both Ron and Hermione had made sure he felt better, Hermione told them she planned on doing the dance lesson that weekend. She only needed to find the proper space for it first. Harry had hoped his nerves over the entire affair would calm down by then. However, given that he now stood in the classroom with his arms crossed over his chest and one hand idly picking at a loose string on his jumper, he doubted his nerves had subsided at all.
Harry wasn’t lying when he said he’d rather take on another dragon versus learning how to dance. He always did much better when adrenaline was involved, or better yet (unfortunately) in a life or death situation. His heart was already beating slightly faster than normal from anxiety. He supposed if his feet couldn’t keep a proper tempo, at least his heart could.
“Don’t worry, we’re going to take this slow and steady,” Hermione stated reassuringly, ever observant of her friend’s uneasiness. She was currently bent over a gramophone she had secured from Professor McGonagall along with a number of records. “Try not to overthink it, and you’ll do fine.”
‘Easy for you to say. You won’t be the one in the middle of the Great Hall with everyone else watching you,’ Harry thought sardonically but knew better than to say aloud. He glanced over at Ron who was looking equally unsure. Ginny, however, appeared much more intrigued.
“Alright,” Hermione set a record on the gramophone and turned around to face the group with a smile. “Welcome to Basic Ballroom Dancing. We’re going to go through the box step, which is essential for a waltz. It’s one of the most common ballroom dances, so I expect that’s what will be the opener for the Yule Ball.”
“Wait, one of the most common?” Ron interrupted. “Just how many ballroom dances are there?”
“There are several. There’s the Waltz, the Foxtrot, Viennese Waltz, and a few others. But the Waltz is the most well known and traditional of them, and this tournament leans on tradition. That’s why I expect the Waltz will be the Yule Ball opener.” Hermione patiently explained. “It’s also the dance I know the most, since that’s the one my parents normally do at events.”
Ron nodded with a slightly confused look. “Right…”
“As I said, we’re going to focus on the box step, among a few others, but there are sometimes other moves in a waltz such as lifts,” Hermione added. Harry’s eyes widened behind his glasses, prompting the witch to quickly continue. “Now, I doubt anything like that will be part of the Yule Ball because that would involve choreography, and if anything were to be choreographed, you’d certainly know ahead of time to learn and practice it.”
“I might have to learn choreography?” Harry asked with growing dread.
“It’s a possibility,” Hermione replied with a sympathetic look in her eyes.
Harry bit back a groan and tilted his head back to thunk against the stone wall.
“That’s in the future though, Harry,” Hermione approached him, grabbing his hand and dragging the reluctant teen away from the wall. “Right now, you need to work on step one. Now, the box step. I’m going to teach you to lead. Ron, Ginny, pay attention.”
Hermione spent the next several minutes instructing Harry on the proper stance, hand placements, and the first two steps, pausing for the weight change. She then turned her attention to the two Weasleys, telling them to pair up.
“With my sister?” Ron asked incredulously. Ginny rolled her eyes at his outburst.
“Yes, Ron. Do you see anyone else?” Hermione gestured at the rest of the room that only held desks that were pushed up against one wall. “That’s why I asked her to join us. We needed an even number of people for dance partners.”
“Couldn’t we pair up instead?”
“No, because I want to make sure Harry has this since he’s opening the ball. We can switch later, but for now, pair with Ginny. I want you both to walk through this, too.”
Ginny grabbed her brother’s hands, holding one and placing the other behind her left shoulder blade. She gave Ron a look, daring him to complain, before looking back towards Hermione for her to continue the lesson.
The lesson continued with Hermione once again going over the first steps for Ron and Ginny’s benefit before continuing with the rest of the steps. Both pairs made their way around the room to the music. Harry’s face was stern with concentration as he did his best to not step on Hermione’s feet. Ginny, however, was not spared that pain from Ron by the sounds of it.
“You’re actually fairly good at this,” Hermione said encouragingly after a few passes. “I think you just need to practice enough to become relaxed and comfortable with it.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Harry muttered, slightly surprised at himself. Hermione nodded and turned her head to the other pair.
“How about we switch partners for a bit?” she suggested.
“Happily,” replied Ron, moving away from his sister. The other ginger scowled at him.
“Hey, you were the one stepping on my feet,” Ginny shot back. “You might want to cast a cushioning charm on your feet, Hermione. Otherwise you might be limping after this.”
Harry moved over towards the girl, taking her hand in his and placing the other behind her shoulder blade. She nodded at him with a smile, waiting for the music to start once again and for him to lead.
“Sorry if I step on your feet,” Harry muttered, looking slightly down at her. Even though she was a year younger, she was only a few centimeters shorter than himself.
“You’ll do fine,” she replied. “Besides, you can’t be anywhere as bad as Ron.”
Harry’s lips twitched in a half hearted smirk as Ron twisted his head to no doubt say something nasty to his little sister. He never got the chance though, as Hermione waved her wand at the gramophone to once again play music and Harry swept Ginny away from the pair.
As the notes continued, Harry started to relax ever so slightly with his movements. Each step became smoother rather than stilted, the weight change more natural than having to think about it. Ginny hummed in appreciation.
“You might be more of a natural at this than you think,” she said. “Hermione’s right. All you need to do is relax and you’re fine.”
Harry rolled his eyes but nodded at her statement, unwilling to admit that the girls may be right on this as well as hoping he doesn’t jinx himself with his words.
“I know you didn’t enter this tournament, and I hate that you’re being forced to compete. But do you think you’re any closer to thinking of the ball as a fun event rather than a dreaded task?”
Harry snorted lightly at her phrasing but shook his head. “Not yet. Learning to dance is only half of the problem. I still need a dance partner. I don’t want to ask just anyone though.”
“Because of your fame?” Ginny ventured.
“Exactly,” Harry nodded. “Anyone I take has a good chance of being photographed, and I know Skeeter will turn it into a giant expose of who I could be dating. I don’t want to put someone through that.”
“So you need someone you can trust, someone you’re comfortable with, and someone who’d be willing to send a bat bogey hex Skeeter’s way if she tries something,” Ginny smirked mischievously.
Harry raised an eyebrow. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that someone sounds like you.”
“Maaaaybe,” she replied evasively.
“Ginny, are you asking me to the ball?”
“Think about it,” she quickly pressed. “We’ve known each other for three years, you know I can hold my own, and I don’t care about your fame. Plus, I already know how to dance, as you can see.”
Harry had to admit she had a point. However, there were a few issues to consider. Not only was Ginny Ron’s little sister (his own relationship with the boy had just mended, even though Ron had been a royal prick in the first place), but he was fully aware of her feelings for him back in second year. But that was two years ago, and she hadn’t made any similar moves since. He also knew what going with her could symbolize.
“Ginny – “
“If you’re thinking this is about my crush, that isn’t it,” she interrupted before Harry could follow that train of thought. “I’m not saying we go as a date. I’m saying we go as friends. Besides, I’d love to go to the ball anyway, but I’m too young. Think of this as a win for both of us.”
Harry was silent for several steps, thinking the offer over. Going as friends could work personally. But from an outside view …
“You do realize what Skeeter could turn this into, right?” He wasn’t about to say yes unless Ginny was fully aware of the consequences.
“Yes,” she nodded for emphasis. “But I think it’s better that it happens to someone you already know decently enough and who could be prepared for it. I’ll denounce every lie she writes if I have to.”
Even with Ginny’s reassurances, Harry remained unsure. The girl in question bit her lip as the silence stretched on between them.
“Bat bogies …” she said quietly in a sing-song voice. “Just think of Skeeter suffering from it.”
Okay, he had to admit it was a lovely image.
Harry sighed heavily before finally nodding his head. “Alright Ginny. Let’s go to the ball together.”
Ginny beamed as they slowed to a stop as the music came to an end. “Thanks Harry! I promise you won’t regret it. We’re going just as friends, I swear.”
"Wait, what?" Harry and Ginny looked over to where Ron had stammered nearby. "You're going to the ball together!?"
"As friends!" The two chorused.
Ron turned his gaze on Harry, eyebrows furrowing into a glare. Ginny sputtered in indignation while her dance partner raised his hands in a placating manner.
"Yes, I know she's your baby sister, but it makes sense! Besides, wouldn't you rather she go with me over someone else taking her?"
"I'd rather she not go at all!" Ron angrily replied. His face was slowly turning several shades of red. "You're too young!"
“Now, Ron –” started Hermione.
"One, you're not mum so you can't tell me what to do,” Ginny interrupted. “And two, I can go if an older student takes me! Stop being an arse! You're just mad you don't have anyone to go with yet!"
Ron bristled, puffing himself up for what was looking to turn into a full on row.
“There are loads who still need to find dates for the ball! Hermione doesn’t have one either!”
“Actually, yes I do,” Hermione replied evenly.
“What?” Ron turned to face her absolutely dumbstruck, his fight with Ginny quickly fizzling.
“I said I’m already going with someone,” she said again.
Ron said nothing for about three seconds before he chuckled. “No, you’re not. Who asked you?”
Harry didn’t need eyes or ears to know that was not the correct response. Even though Hermione’s eyes flashed venomously, the very feel of the air of the room had turned dangerous.
“Excuse me?” she said slowly.
“I just want to know who would ask you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she said acidly.
“What do you mean ‘what’s that supposed to mean?’ I just want to know!”
Hermione looked torn between hexing the red-head and slapping him. “How. Dare. You,” she hissed. “As I said, I already have a date to the Yule Ball, which is a lot more than I can say for you! Good luck finding someone who will put up with your abysmal attitude and dull character. I dare say a troll has better manners and tact than you.” Hermione whipped around towards the door and stormed out, slamming the classroom door behind her.
Silence reigned between the remaining three.
“You really shouldn’t have said that,” Harry muttered after a few moments.
“She’s lying,” Ron said flatly.
“She’s not,” said Ginny quietly.
“Who is it then?” said Ron sharply.
“I’m not telling you. It’s her business,” replied Ginny.
Ron shook his head. “Unbelievable,” he muttered. He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it disheveled. A rather good match for his irritation. With a huff he headed towards the door.
“You better be good to my sister,” he said to Harry without looking at him. Ginny opened her mouth with a retort but stopped as Harry raised a hand toward her, shaking his head ‘no.’ Nothing was said as the door closed and Ron left.
Ginny and Harry shared a look in the awkward silence.
“Great,” sighed Harry. “Just great.”
Less than 24 hours later and Harry was clamoring for an excuse to leave both the confines of Gryffindor Tower and Hogwarts itself. After their row yesterday, Ron and Hermione weren’t on speaking terms, let alone willing to sit anywhere near each other. Harry was developing a newfound appreciation for what Hermione went through for roughly a month after his name was pulled from the Goblet of Fire.
This certainly wasn’t the first time the two had fought (he distinctly remembered the Scabbers and Crookshanks incidents from third year), but this time was different. Hermione wasn’t just angry. She was seething, a cold fury unlike anything Harry had seen from her before. Rightly so in his opinion. Ron did have a habit of putting his foot in his mouth with the occasional disastrous result, and this one was decidedly apocalyptic in comparison. It wasn’t too long ago he was harboring his own grudge against the ginger, but he doubted Hermione would be in a forgiving mood anytime soon even if Ron realized he should apologize.
In any case, it left Harry as the proverbial rope in his friends’ tug of war, and he already had enough stressors on his plate. They hadn’t gotten to the stage of being overt about it yet, but knowing that it was coming was making him antsy. Not to mention after yesterday he was starting to feel slightly claustrophobic. He chalked it up to the feeling in the air in the aftermath of the row. Which was why he was glad he remembered he still needed to go see Hagrid about his question that could lead to the answer of the golden egg’s riddle.
A part of him still wanted to figure the answer out on his own, but he realized it wasn’t worth his pride. Besides, he wasn’t asking what the clue was and what it meant. He was just asking about some creatures. Why not use every bit of knowledge at his disposal? Even though Hagrid might be a questionable teacher at times due to his methods and dangerous live demonstrations, he was a fountain of knowledge when it came to anything with teeth, claws, and everything in between.
Bundled against the biting wind of the Scottish winter, Harry followed the stone step path on Hogwarts’ grounds that lead to Hagrid’s hut near the edge of the Forbidden Forest. This early on a Sunday morning, he was the only one out on the bitter cold grounds, everyone else preferring to stay inside near fires, wrapped in blankets, or in bed for a lie in. Harry not only appreciated the solitude but also how much lighter it felt by being outside even with the frigid air.
Smoke curled lazily from the hut’s stone chimney, hinting that its owner was home. That, and the smell of sausages cooking, along with something baking but Harry’s nose couldn’t discern exactly what. Walking up to the front door, he raised his hand and knocked. A booming bark from a dog answered first before its master.
“Who’s there?”
“It’s me, Hagrid!” Harry replied loud enough to be heard over Fang. The door opened, and said boarhound happily greeted him, jumping up to lick his face.
“Ugh! Nice to see you too Fang,” Harry laughed, petting the slobbering dog whilst using the motion to push him down.
“C’mon now, get off ‘im!” grunted Hagrid. Using the dog’s collar as leverage, he pulled the dog away from him. “Mornin’ Harry! What’re you doin’ down ‘ere? Where’s Ron an’ Hermione?”
“Fighting,” Harry replied, closing the door behind him. “They got into it yesterday and aren’t speaking to each other.” His gloves, scarf, and winter cloak were quickly discarded and placed on a hook.
Hagrid’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Fightin’? Over what?”
“Yule Ball.” Harry didn’t care to elaborate. For how often he found himself in the middle of it, he wasn’t one for drama or gossip.
“Well, they’ll make up sooner or later. Always do.” Hagrid let go of Fang, the dog quickly trotting over to Harry who’d taken a seat at the kitchen table.
“Try later. Much later.”
“That bad?”
Harry nodded. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Hermione that livid. Ron really stepped in it this time.”
Hagrid cringed. “Ah, unfortunate bit of business, that is. They’ll come around. Jus’ you wait.” The groundskeeper moved away from the entryway and over to the hearth where a kettle hung over the fire. “Care for anythin’? I was about ter sit down fer breakfast.”
“Oh! I can come back at a later time,” Harry moved to stand from the seat he’d just taken only for Hagrid to wave at him.
“Nonsense.” Hagrid busied himself over by the fire, placing crumpets and sausages onto two plates and preparing two cups of tea. Harry looked on warily. He’d had Hagrid’s cooking before, and it was either hit or miss. The birthday cake he received when he turned 11 had been good, but the man’s rock cakes were notorious. He thanked him when everything was placed on the table, opting for just tea at the moment. Fang settled himself by Harry’s side, his massive head resting on Harry’s thigh.
“So, what brings you my way?” Hagrid placed several crumpets and sausages on his plate, spreading some sort of jam on the baked good.
“I was hoping you might be able to point me in the right direction. I’ve been researching the clue in the golden egg – And I know you can’t tell me what it is, that’s not what I’m asking!” Harry quickly clarified, although he sincerely doubted Hagrid cared about that given the fact he was the one to show him the dragons from the first task.
“You’d be out of luck anyway. I don’ know what it is this time. Wish I could help you there.” His tone was sympathetic. Harry briefly wondered if it was on purpose that Hagrid was left in the dark this time around. He did have a tendency to let things slip, the first task being a prime example. Then again, both Flleur and Viktor had an unfair advantage there too, courtesy of their headmasters.
“That’s okay, and I wouldn’t ask you that anyway. But maybe you could answer a question for me. I know that the egg involves some sort of group of creatures that are the same species and either communicate with loud screeches or screams. I’ve already gone through creatures that travel on their own such as strix and banshees. I just don’t know about groups who would communicate in that way.”
Hagrid hummed thoughtfully as he chewed his crumpet. “Screeches and screams … Well, not a lot comes to mind, unfortunately. Fairies talk ter each other in a high pitched buzz, but that’s not a screech. There’s the Jobberknoll. They don’ usually fly in flocks, but they make a ‘ell of a racket right before they die. They scream long and loud, and it’s every sound they’ve heard in life, but it’s screamed backwards.”
“Are they dangerous?” Harry asked, perturbed at the creature’s peculiar nature.
“Nah, they’re small, easy ter handle. Slightly bigger than a snitch. Quiet things really, save fer their deaths.”
Harry shook his head. “Then I don’t think that’s it. I doubt the tournament would use anything like that, unless it’s hinting at something that could cause their deaths but that’d be vague.” He sighed, absently petting Fang’s head. “Anything else?”
Hagrid popped a sausage in his mouth, silently chewing as he thought. “What do the screams sound like again?”
“I don’t have the egg with me, but it sounds like the souls of the damned.” Harry had seriously considered carting the egg along for his visit, but thought that would be one step too far in his asking for aid. However, the description may have been enough. The gentle giant’s face scrunched up, an idea clearly hitting him.
“Well, there might be one thing, but I’m not sure. They sound scary, but they really aren’t. In fact, they’re as gentle as can be.”
That unfortunately didn’t mean much since everything was gentle in Hagrid’s eyes. “Hagrid, an idea is more than what I have right now,” Harry urged.
“It could be thestrals,” he replied after a moment.
Harry blinked. “Thestrals? What’s a thestral?”
“They’re skeletal, winged horses. A bit reptilian too,” Hagrid sat back as he explained. “They’re pretty rare, an’ they like the dark. Like I said, they’re usually quiet, but they do make a shrill shriek. They feed off of meat and blood, an have an unfair reputation for causin’ bad luck, which they don’!”
“Why do they have that reputation?” Harry warily asked. Not that he didn’t trust Hagrid, but when it came to some creatures, he wasn’t exactly unbiased. Then again, wizards weren’t very unbiased either when it came to creatures.
“‘Cus only those that’ve seen death can see ‘em,” Hagrid replied solemnly.
Harry’s eyes widened. “That might be it. But if so, what could they be hinting at with the clue?” he muttered. “I’d need to hear them to make sure, but where am I going to find a thestral?”
“Why, in the Forbidden Forest,” Hagrid replied simply. He further explained at Harry’s surprised look. “There’s a whole herd of ‘em in there. I think I’m the only one in the world ter train them. What d’yeh think pulls the carriages at the start of each school year?”
“I thought it was magic, not a creature.” Harry would never look at the carriages the same way again. He wondered if any of the other students knew. Or, if any students could actually see them. “Do you think you could take me to them some time? I know I can’t see them, but if I can hear them, then I’ll know if I’m on the right track or not.”
“We can go next weekend if you like,” Hagrid smiled.
“Thanks, Hagrid.” It may not be the answer to the clue inside the egg, but maybe, just maybe, Harry was finally on the right path.
“Mr Potter.”
Harry quickly looked up from the stew he was eating, spoon pausing halfway to his mouth. It was Wednesday afternoon at lunch. Winter was now in full swing at Hogwarts, and it brought with it not only a chill to the grounds but also to the halls of the old castle. Walking between classes had students pulling their cloaks a tad tighter around them. The common rooms, classrooms, library, and the Great Hall quickly became havens against the chill.
Harry had been thoroughly enjoying his meal when the voice of his head of house caught his attention. It also didn’t go unnoticed by Ron who sat beside him or the twins who were across. Hermione refused to sit by Ron and was much further down the table sitting by Ginny.
Locking eyes with the usually stern looking witch, he replied with a prompt, “Yes, professor?”
“As you know, you and the other champions will be opening the Yule Ball with a dance,” Professor McGonagall began. “There will be a lesson tomorrow evening at 7 in the Great Hall to go over that dance. You will need to bring your partner with you. You do have a partner, yes?”
Harry ignored the look of irritation on Ron’s face, given exactly who that partner was. Fred and George, meanwhile, grinned knowingly. “Yes, I do have a partner. I’ll let her know.”
“See that you do,” she nodded before walking off.
“Still can’t believe you’re going with my sister,” Ron grumbled, shoving a spoonful of stew into his mouth.
“As friends, Ron,” Harry replied plainly, still not looking at him. The subject was a terse one for the youngest male Weasley, much to Harry’s annoyance and Ginny’s irritation. The only reason why all of Gryffindor Tower knew who Harry was going with was because Ron brought it up whilst complaining that he still didn’t have a date, stating that Ginny was too young to go anyway. Four days later, Ron still didn’t have a date, and now neither Ginny nor Hermione were on speaking terms with him.
Fred and George, however, found the entire situation hilarious.
“If we didn’t know any better,” Fred began.
“We’d say ickle Ronnikens was just jealous,” George finished, the two of them grinning.
Harry decided at that point to tune the three brothers out, knowing the twins’ teasing was likely to rile Ron up. Instead, he noticed the other champions being approached by their respective elders, likely being informed of the impending dance class. He found himself correct after hearing Cedric at the Hufflepuff table behind him confirming with Professor Sprout. He could see Fleur at Ravenclaw the next table over, and Krum over at Slytherin behind her.
The four of them hadn’t been together since right before the beginning of the First Task, and none of them were in a speaking mood at that point, not that he figured they’d want to speak to him anyway. He still remembered their reactions after he appeared in the room behind the Great Hall on Halloween night. They certainly weren’t pleased with him, not that he could blame them.
Before this tournament, a part of Harry was actually looking forward to meeting wizards from different countries and schools. After all, he’d only known about magic since he was eleven, and only the British Wizarding World at that. He’d never really thought about communities in France, Bulgaria, or anywhere else for that matter, which was incredibly short sighted of him. Then again, he had been a bit busy these last four years trying to not die, so he supposed he had a good reason. But now, three months into the school year with two groups of foreign students joining them, he still hadn’t had a chance to learn anything about them.
He didn’t realize he was staring over at the Slytherin table whilst lost in his thoughts until Krum raised an eyebrow at him. Harry shook himself, realizing with embarrassment that he’d been staring right at the star seeker. He nodded at Krum in acknowledgement, hoping to whoever was listening that his face didn’t show just how embarrassed he was. Krum responded in kind with his own nod before turning back to a fellow Durmstrang student.
“Sizing up the enemy?” Ron asked, taking the chance to change the subject away from him and his lack of a date.
“No,” Harry shook his head. “Sorry, just lost in thought.”
“I’d be worried about dancing in front of everyone too, but you’ll be fine. ‘Mione said so,” Ron said between bites of a roll.
“Have you apologized to her yet?” asked Harry. Ron looked over at his friend incredulously.
“Why should I? She’s the one that blew up at me.”
Harry hesitated for a moment, only because he was now on good terms with Ron again. However, Hermione was his friend too.
“Actually – now just hear me out – how you spoke to her on Saturday made it sound like no one in their right mind would want to ask her out as a date.”
“What’d he say?” asked the twins in unison, both leaning in.
“I think it was something similar to ‘who would ask you,’ after telling her that she was lying when she said she already had a date,” explained Harry. The reaction was instantaneous as both Fred and George winced in sympathy.
“Not both of you, too!” Ron cried, dropping his spoon into his almost empty bowl.
“Definitely not the right thing to say,” said Fred.
“But you’ll learn soon enough,” George added.
“You’re still young, waiting to mature.”
“Not mature mature,” scoffed George, “but not cocking up like that.”
“I’m not apologizing.” Ron’s tone was adamant. Blue eyes swept their corner of the table, daring his brothers and Harry to say otherwise.
“Whatever you say, Ron,” Harry finally replied, sharing a look with Fred and George. Obviously, this topic wasn’t going to go anywhere and with Ron’s fiery temper, pushing it further was only going to cause an explosion.
Harry checked his watch. There was still plenty of time left at lunch, but a familiar feeling was starting to creep into his veins. Knowing sitting still would only make it worse, and his appetite mostly filled anyway, he decided to grab his bag and adorned his winter cloak.
“Where’re you going?” Ron furrowed his brow.
“Herbology. I’m headed down early. Could use the fresh air anyway. I’ll see you there.” Harry slung his bag over his shoulder and waved at the three before heading towards the doors of the Great Hall. He heard Ron calling after him that it was freezing outside but ignored him. It may be cold, but it was open air.
He’d first felt it over the weekend; the desire to leave crowded spaces and enclosed rooms. Ever since Ron and Hermione had their row, it’d been there. Harry was fairly certain it was to escape the emotionally charged atmosphere that came from the aftermath of that, but a very small part of his mind that was steadily growing louder wasn’t so sure. He’d never had an issue with tight spaces before. He’d spent the first eleven years of his life in a small cupboard. He was used to tight spaces, let alone classrooms, the common room, and the vastness of the Great Hall.
The severity of it came and went throughout the day, but he knew it was happening more frequently as the week went on. The desire for more space and open skies carried over into every class he’d had so far. He'd taken a seat by a window or as close to one as possible. Potions, being in the dungeon, had been almost unbearable (even more so than usual). Astronomy had been the only class that had remotely eased the feeling since it was outside on the roof of Hogwarts’ tallest tower. But even then, something felt off , which was beyond strange as there was plenty of open air around him.
It was just another thing to add to his list of strange symptoms for whatever was going on with him as of late. Even his sense of hearing and smell were starting to act funny again, although not as badly as before. He didn’t have sensory overload, thankfully. Instead, it felt as if his ears constantly needed to pop. Each time he found relief by widening his jaw, he swore his hearing was getting slightly sharper. This actually saved him Monday morning in Potions class from a sabotaged brew, a good thing too given they’d been working on antidotes. However he still ended up having points docked for ‘not paying attention to his potion,’ even though he’d saved it from an explosion courtesy of Malfoy.
Likewise, his sense of smell had also improved in a marginal way each day. Again, far from the overwhelming nature of the week before. There was no blinding pain in his head, and he hadn’t felt any strange tingles for several days now.
He’d thought about going back to Madame Pomfrey but he quickly talked himself out of it. While he was certain her prognosis was wrong, there was a chance this could all be chalked up to stress. Besides, knowing his luck, he’d see her soon enough without him willingly walking into the Hospital Wing. If anything got seriously worse, then he’d talk to her about it.
Harry was hit with the briskness of the winter air as he stepped outside the doors of Entrance Hall and onto the grounds. He took in a lungful of the frigid air, allowing the burning cold to cleanse the restlessness in his soul. With each breath the tightness inside him began to ease, although it didn’t fully release its grip. He’d yet to find anything that could do that since this started. Granted, it’d only been five days, but having a near constant feeling of what he could only describe as a never ending episode of mild to moderate claustrophobia that started out of nowhere was beginning to wear on him.
But being outside did indeed help. Even though the air was far colder, it was also lighter. The last two nights had brought snow, and it left a blanket of white powder across the grounds. It wasn’t wet enough to truly stick or pack together, otherwise the student body would have started snowball fights between classes or at lunch. Even the Forbidden Forest looked deceptively calm as the sunlight sparkled and shimmered off of the snow and ice in the trees.
As calm and picturesque as the outdoors were, it was still freezing. Harry drew his winter cloak tighter around himself and made his way down the front steps of the castle and out across the grounds to the greenhouses. The path there was already littered with footprints from students earlier that day, the only disturbance of the pristine sea of white. However, with roughly twenty minutes still remaining in the lunch period, there was a good chance he would be the only person in the greenhouse, which would be a pleasant reprieve given the last few days. Approaching the door to Greenhouse 4, Harry opened it and crossed the threshold.
Immediately, he felt as if a band around his chest had snapped and he could finally take a full breath for the first time in days.
The sensation was jarring, causing him to nearly stumble in surprise. Eyes frantically searched every corner of the greenhouse, wondering if he’d tripped some sort of ward or if someone had sent a spell his way. But the only things he could see were the work tables in the center of the building and the many plants along the walls and clustered in plots on the far side of the greenhouse.
Even stranger still, a warm, soothing sense of calm was beginning to override the adrenaline that had burst through his veins not only seconds before. It wasn’t an artificial calm like the Imperius Curse. No, his mind was still his own. His senses weren’t compromised. Instead, it was as if that feeling of ‘offness’ that he’d had for the last few days was now gone.
Thinking there was no way this was natural, he couldn’t help but shake his head to fight off whatever the invisible threat was. He took a step back, a part of him wanting to put as much distance between himself and the greenhouse as possible. But the second he put his foot down to move, something deep inside of him screamed to stay.
‘What the fuck is going on?’ Harry forced himself to still, his form now blocking the door of the greenhouse just inside the entry. A gust of wind behind him blew, chilling the small part of the back of his neck that wasn’t covered by his scarf and causing the snow outside of the glass building to dance in swirls of white and a hint of silver. He knew he couldn’t keep the door open, even with the perpetual warming charms inside the building. Not with how temperamental some of the plants were. But he was torn between the desire to step inside into the warmth and the calming call of whatever the hell was in there or leaving entirely, thus going against some primal instinct inside of him.
Going against the better judgment of his rational mind, he stepped forward again and closed the door behind him.
Nothing moved inside the greenhouse. In fact, it looked just like it did last week, save for a number of trees on the work tables, making Harry even more confused. He wanted to be on his guard, but it was extremely difficult to do so when everything inside him except for his mind was telling him to relax.
‘It has to be those trees, whatever they are.’
Harry took a cautious step towards the nearest table with a tree on it, watching it warily as if it would attack. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d dealt with an aggressive or defensive plant, memories of the Devil’s Snare from first year and screaming Mandrakes from second year crossing his mind. When it came to wizarding world flora, it was best to err on the side of caution.
Stepping up to the table, he paused to study the small tree upon it. It appeared to be a young sapling of sorts due to its short stature and relatively thin trunk. Green leaves dotted the branches. It looked positively harmless, all things considered.
Harry couldn’t understand for the life of him why, but something whispered in his mind to reach out and touch it. The rational part of him knew he shouldn’t, especially while Professor Sprout wasn’t there. He didn’t even know what this thing was, let alone if it could hurt him. But the same part that whispered for him to reach out towards the sapling also knew, somehow, that it wouldn’t hurt him.
‘If Hermione were here, I’d never hear the end of this.’
Going against his better judgment, and throwing all caution to the wind, he tentatively reached out with his right hand and lightly grasped a branch.
This time his mind didn’t fight. That, or an instinctual part of his brain grappled his rational mind and promptly threw it in a cage. Either way, every one of his muscles relaxed and a sense of peace washed over him. Every hint of claustrophobia that had been plaguing him disappeared, the restlessness instantly leaving his body. In its stead remained a sense of completeness, and dare he say a boost of energy.
Harry exhaled in awe. Leaves from a nearby branch twitched ever so slightly, and if he wasn’t mistaken, they appeared to lean towards his hand.
“What are you?” he murmured.
“It’s a Wiggentree.”
Harry's heart skipped a beat. He gasped and jumped back, his hand jerking slightly as it released the branch almost as if it burned him. It may have been his imagination, but he could have sworn he received a hint of disappointment upon breaking contact. Looking up in search of the source of the voice that spoke, he was slightly surprised to see none other than Neville standing in the doorway.
“Neville!” Harry breathed out. “You scared me to death!”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” the other boy replied, looking appropriately sheepish. “I’m surprised to see you out here so early. Class doesn’t start for another ten minutes.”
“Yeah, I just wanted the fresh air and the space.”
“Ron and Hermione still at it?” Neville asked.
“Yeah, you could say that,” Harry rubbed the back of his neck. He liked Neville, he really did. But he wasn’t about to explain what was really bothering him. “So, you said that’s a Wiggentree?”
“Yeah!” Neville’s eyes lit up at the prospect of sharing anything about his favorite subject. “It’s a really useful tree. It’s part of the Rowan family, and its bark can be used for making wands. It also protects you from dark creatures as long as you’re touching it.”
“Really? I didn’t know there was a tree that could do that.” Harry looked back at the Wiggentree he’d been touching, eyes slightly narrowed in thought. “So, does it also give off this sense of calm?”
“Calm?” Neville cocked his head slightly. “I’ve never felt particularly calm while around a Wiggentree, at least not any more than usual. Then again, I like plants, so I’m fairly happy around them. At least usually. But no, not any more calm than usual. Why?”
Harry hesitated for a few moments before answering. “Well … because when I walked in here, I got this immediate sense of calm, like I could finally breathe. It’s hard to explain, but some part of me was pulled to touch that tree.”
Neville blinked at him, unsure of how to respond. “Uh … do you still feel it?”
Harry looked back at the tree and allowed himself to concentrate on it. “Not as strongly, no. But I feel a hell of a lot better than before I stepped in here.”
“You might want to ask Professor Sprout about that,” Neville suggested. “I don’t know why you’d get that feeling. Do you have a dark creature following you?”
“Not to my knowledge,” snorted Harry. “Although I honestly wouldn’t be surprised.”
“Yeah, you do have that luck,” chuckled Neville. Harry shrugged and smiled in reply.
The two continued their small talk until the rest of the students and Professor Sprout entered and class began. Harry learned plenty about the Wiggentree, but nothing that would explain his reaction when he first entered the greenhouse. Even during the practical part of the lesson, he couldn’t repeat the initial feelings of what happened earlier that day. But the sense of ‘right’ didn’t leave him. In fact, he’d dare say that was the best herbology class he’d had during his entire time at Hogwarts.
Harry was almost reluctant to leave that afternoon for their final class of the day, but he wasn’t about to be late to Transfiguration and face the ire of Professor McGonagall. Walking with the others, he made his way back up the grounds and inside the castle.
Amidst the drifts of the fallen snow, no one noticed a set of animal tracks leading away from one wall of Greenhouse 4 and towards the Forbidden Forest.