章 543: 0541 Unlucky

'Is there anyone more unfortunate than me?' Harry thought desperately, his heart pounding frantically against his ribs as Professor Watson's tall, imposing figure materialized through the misty Scottish afternoon. He had sneaked out to Hogsmeade with Hermione, but ended up running into Professor Watson, and on top of that, he had injured the Beauxbatons champion.

The incident brought back vivid memories of the previous accident in Hagrid's pumpkin patch, it was said that the girl, who seemed to have Veela blood, had been injured there last time, which greatly angered the headmaster of Beauxbatons and even alarmed Dumbledore!

Harry's eyes fixed on Fleur's face, where blood flowed freely from her nose, staining her Beauxbatons uniform and no matter how he looked at it, her injury didn't seem any lighter than the last time.

Hermione ran to Harry's side; her bushy brown hair wild from their hasty exit from the Three Broomsticks. Her face drained of color as she recognized the injured party - her fellow Triwizard champion, the part-Veela who had already suffered once before at Hogwarts. The sight of Fleur's blood-soaked collar and pained expression caused Hermione to gasp audibly as her hands flew to cover her mouth in horror.

Bryan certainly knew how Harry and Hermione had managed to come here, as Sirius was pushing his way through the crowd like a determined battering ram, towards the inner circle!

"Let me take a look—" Fleur's condition made Bryan sigh with frustration; this girl seemed to be having a bit of bad luck lately. He didn't interrogate Harry and Hermione further, but squatted down and said softly. The cobblestones beneath his knees were damp from the continuous Scottish mist, but he paid no mind to the discomfort.

Fleur let out a painful whimper, unwilling and embarrassed to let everyone see her in such a state. Her blue eyes were filled with tears as she looked at Bryan with a touch of grievance.

Non-magical injuries were not that troublesome to deal with. Bryan moved his wand gently to target the injury. The flow of blood ceased instantly, and Fleur's nose returned to its original alignment. However, even as he performed the healing magic, his mind was already racing ahead to the diplomatic nightmare this would undoubtedly cause.

Madame Maxime, already on edge from the previous incident, would likely view this second injury as proof of Hogwarts' inability to ensure her students' safety.

Gabrielle, Fleur's younger sister, showed her protective fury after she helped Fleur to her feet. Her small body seemed to grow with indignation as she turned her blazing eyes toward Harry.

"Why did you hurt my sister!" She demanded, in her thick French accent.

Fleur's reaction was more restrained, though no less intense. Her recognition of Harry and Hermione was evident in her eyes - after all, who wouldn't recognize the famous Harry Potter, with his characteristic lightning bolt scar and he was also the one who guided her to Bryan Watson's office on the night she arrived at Hogwarts, or the other girl who was somehow the fourth champion like her.

But rather than immediately express anger, she watched Bryan with keen interest, clearly waiting to see how he would handle this delicate situation.

Sirius finally broke through the last ring of spectators who were the strong Durmstrang students and his dark robes were slightly disheveled from the effort.

His face showed a complex mixture of emotions as he glanced between his godson, Hermione, and then at the calm-faced Bryan, before settling on the injured Fleur. He was feeling somewhat embarrassed - after all, it was his letter that had brought the children to Hogsmeade in the first place.

"Oh, I am very sorry—" Sirius stepped forward, naturally positioning himself between the children and any potential consequences. His voice carried the smooth, aristocratic tones of his upbringing as he attempted to diffuse the situation. "The child who just bumped into you is my godson. We had a bit of a disagreement just now, and he was a bit emotional which led to this unfortunate incident. We are, of course, willing to compensate in any way—"

Bryan's intervention came swiftly, his voice carrying a tone of regret. "I'm sorry—" he said, meeting Fleur's gaze directly. "This falls under my responsibility as a professor. I should have maintained better oversight."

Fleur glanced at Bryan and felt a strange sense of disappointment. She realized that Bryan's apology was not because he was on her side, but rather, he was trying to take responsibility for the two young wizards from Hogwarts.

"No!" Harry's voice cracked with emotion as he pushed past Sirius's protective posture. His face was as pale as Nearly Headless Nick, but his green eyes blazed with determination. "It has nothing to do with Professor Watson. This is my fault. I am very sorry." Then he added emotionally, "If you wish, you can take a swing at my nose."

The offer drew surprised murmurs from the growing crowd of onlookers who had gathered to witness the drama unfolding in the middle of Hogsmeade's main street.

The misty rain continued to fall, creating a somber backdrop to the scene.

But Fleur's response was unexpectedly calm.

"There's no need to feel guilty; it was just an accident—" She shook her head listlessly, causing droplets of water to fall from her silvery hair. "Let's go, Gabrielle. I have no interest in this place anymore. Let's go back to the carriage."

With that, she took the hand of the indignant Gabrielle, who was still glaring at Harry, and without saying goodbye to Bryan, she turned around and left quickly.

Their swift departure with Fleur's indifferent attitude intensified Harry's guilt. His shoulders slumped visibly, and his earlier boldness crumbled into genuine remorse. Yet beneath that guilt, a deeper anger toward Ron simmered - after all, this whole mess could be traced back to that idiot.

But that was a problem for another time; right now, he had to face Professor Watson, whose calm demeanor somehow made the situation even more intimidating.

Undoubtedly, he had caused trouble for Professor Watson. If the girl went back and told her headmaster, then Professor Watson would have to go to great lengths to appease Beauxbatons.

"I'm sorry, Professor Watson, we I—" Harry's attempt at an explanation faltered and died in his throat. Behind him, Sirius maintained his encouraging smile, smiling at Bryan, as if certain he would not punish Harry and Hermione too harshly.

"Come to my office after dinner to receive your punishment for sneaking out of school, Potter and Granger—" Bryan glared at Sirius, successfully making him look embarrassed, then said to Harry and Hermione, "Now, go back to the school immediately and stop wandering around, or I will inform Professor McGonagall—"

The threat of McGonagall's involvement hung in the air like a sword of Damocles. Sirius, recognizing the need for a swift exit, gave Harry's shoulder a reassuring pat.

"Go ahead—" he urged them. "Don't go out of the castle after dark, and then have a good talk with Ron—"

Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance filled with mutual understanding and a shared sense of relief; they had been granted a reprieve, albeit a temporary one.

With a final, apologetic look at Professor Watson, they turned and began to make their way back towards Hogwarts. The misty rain continued to fall, casting a gloomy shroud over the village, as if the very weather echoed their somber mood.

As they walked, the usually bustling atmosphere of Hogsmeade seemed quiet, or perhaps it was just their own moods coloring their perceptions. The brightly colored signs of the various shops—Honeydukes, Zonko's Joke Shop, Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop—all seemed dulled and less inviting than usual. The delicious scents wafting from the Three Broomsticks and Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop, normally so enticing, now seemed sickly and overly sweet.

Meanwhile, Sirius and Bryan watched as the two young Gryffindors disappeared into the mist. Sirius turned to Bryan, as a wry smile appeared at the corners of his mouth. "Would you like a drink, Bryan? My treat, of course."

"I had planned to—" Bryan said with a dark expression, "but now I'm not in the mood."

Sirius nodded understandingly, his smile fading.

Bryan's gaze shifted to the alley opposite the Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop, his mind already moving on to the next issue that required his attention. "Clearly, this place is no longer suitable for conversation," he said, his voice barely audible over the murmur of the crowd. "Would you mind if we stepped somewhere more private?"

Sirius agreed, and the two men turned into the secluded alley. The alley was narrow, the buildings on either side leaning in as if sharing secrets. The scent of damp stone and old magic hung heavily in the air, providing a stark contrast to the busier streets they had left behind.

"What happened with Harry and Ron?" The two stood under the eaves, and Bryan asked casually, "Did the two boys have a fight?"

"It's about Hermione's champion status—" Sirius shrugged, "You know, that kid Ron has always felt pressured among his siblings, longing to stand out, but he never gets much attention next to Harry."

Bryan nodded in understanding.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione—in this small group, Harry was undoubtedly the center of attention wherever he went, and Hermione, due to her outstanding grades, also had some fame, not to mention that she was now the fourth champion of Hogwarts. Being friends with these two outstanding young wizards, it was easy to imagine the pressure and strange looks Ron would face.

However, Bryan had no intention of intervening; this was their own business, or one could say, an inevitable pain in the process of growing up.

"Tell me about Barty Crouch—" Bryan said, "Has he been up to anything lately?"

Sirius leaned against the damp wall; his arms crossed over his chest. "You know, Bryan, I can't always stay at the department, but when I do return to report, I can probe around a bit from others," he said, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "So far, nothing seems out of the ordinary. Crouch is still doing his usual routine, working late into the night as he always does. He's almost always the last one to leave the office."

He paused, his gaze shifting to the misty street beyond the alley. "Well, If I had to mention, something, it would be about Percy—"

"Percy?" Bryan's interest was piqued, and he leaned in slightly, encouraging Sirius to continue.

"Yes" Sirius said, rubbing his chin as he recalled the details. "I overheard Arthur boasting about it. Crouch seems to highly value Percy. Now, he lets Percy make decisions on some less important or urgent matters, while he spends most of his time in the office."

Bryan's eyes narrowed, his mind racing as he processed this information.

Sirius continued, "But this actually isn't anything unusual. It's said that he was injured during a visit to Hungary and should have gone to St. Mungo's for a period of recovery, but we all know he wouldn't waste his precious time there. He must be feeling exhausted, so handing some unimportant work to Percy isn't surprising—"

Sirius looked at Bryan and his brow furrowed tightly after sensing Bryan's concern. "What's going on, Bryan? Why do you want me to keep an eye on Crouch? Do you think what's happening at Hogwarts is related to him?"

Bryan's eyes flickered briefly, his expression carefully neutral. He met Sirius's gaze steadily, but offered no immediate response. Seeing his expression, Sirius immediately understood that he wouldn't get any answers from Bryan. Not yet, at least.

"Alright—" Sirius sighed, resignation evident in his voice. "I know you have many important things to think about, but I hope you can help keep an eye on Harry, oh, and Hermione and Ron too. They are already overwhelmed by the champion matters—"

Bryan and Sirius didn't talk for long; after all, they had already exchanged information through letters. As for Sirius's final request, He understood Sirius's concern, but he also knew the delicate balance he had to maintain. Before Voldemort's wish was fulfilled, he had to ensure a certain distance from these three youngsters, no matter how much he might wish to intervene more directly.

The rain was misty, and only the green mountains could be seen.

Bryan turned out of the alley, hoping to return to Hogwarts immediately, but there were still many Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students in Hogsmeade. He had to wait until dinner time to gather these students and return to Hogwarts together.

After thinking for a moment, he decided to go to the Hog's Head Inn to pass the time; at least during the day, it was quite peaceful there. But after turning around, Bryan hesitated and looked back towards the Gladrags Wizardwear store they had just left.

*******************************

For More Chapters; patreon.com/FicFrenzy

コメント 0のコメント

投票

章 544: 0542 Fool

"Harry! Harry!"

Hermione's desperate cries echoed through the ancient, crumbling secret passage, her voice bouncing off the stone walls that had witnessed centuries of Hogwarts secrets.

The musty air filled her lungs as she pushed herself harder, her feet pounding against the uneven ground. Despite all the physical training she'd done since joining the Bryan's PE class, the difference in their athletic abilities was apparent.

Harry's longer legs and years of Quidditch training gave him an advantage – with each passing second, the distance between them grew like an ever-widening chasm.

"Stop, Harry!" she called out, her voice cracking with desperation.

As the passage began to curve in a familiar arc, Hermione's heart raced faster. Her mind, always quick to analyze, recognized they were approaching the castle. And regret crashed over her in waves, about to drown her resolve.

Two distinct realizations tormented her racing thoughts.

First, she cursed herself for mentioning that Professor Watson wouldn't hold him accountable for injuring Fleur, since the professor's evening office detention was just for sneaking out of school. That single piece of information had effectively removed the last thread of hesitation holding Harry back, like removing the final barrier before a flood.

But even more devastating was her second regret – the crushing weight of having kept Ron's conflicted feelings hidden all this time. She now understood this was the true reason for Harry's explosive anger.

The betrayal he felt cut twice as deep – not just from Ron's jealousy and little thoughts, but also from Hermione's silence in all these happenings. She had observed everything yet chose to remain quiet in a misguided attempt to maintain their friendship, which made things even worse.

"Please listen to me, Harry!" Hermione's voice shattered the darkness, dense with emotion and wobbling on the edge of tears. Her chest burned with each breath, and her hair had become a wild storm of curls, dampened with sweat and the tunnel's moisture.

Harry could hear every desperate call, every pleading note in Hermione's voice that seemed to break into sobs. But the fire raging in his chest consumed all reason. The fire of betrayal spread through his veins like molten metal, setting every nerve ending burning. Running was his only release, the physical exertion the only thing that could possibly match the intensity of his emotional turmoil.

As he sprinted through the oppressive darkness, memories flooded his mind with cruel clarity. Every moment shared with Ron and Hermione over their years at Hogwarts played like a bitter slideshow – from that first meeting on the Hogwarts Express, where everything seemed so simple and full of wonder, to this very day.

The images came rapid-fire: the three of them navigating the challenges protecting the Philosopher's Stone, their hearts pounding as they pieced together the mystery of the basilisk, and the wild night they chased what they thought was a murderous Sirius Black through the forbidden forest, only to discover a truth far more complex.

More memories surged forward: the exhilarating and terrifying flight in Mr. Weasley's enchanted Ford Anglia, the mind-bending experience of using the Time-Turner with Hermione to save multiple lives and capture peter.

Each recollection felt like a knife twisting in his gut, made sharper by the realization that what he had thought was an unshakeable friendship – one he had compared to the bond between Sirius, Remus, and his parents – now seemed to be crumbling like the very walls of this secret passage.

And now Sirius using Peter's example as a hint of warning rang in his ears with new implication. At least, Harry believed it as a warning from Sirius's words.

The similarity was almost impossible to ignore – as it was a tale of friendship corroded by jealousy and doubt.

In Harry's current state, anger and fear had become indistinguishable, melding into a singular burning need to confront Ron and make him feel even a fraction of the pain he was experiencing. The image of his fist connecting with Ron's freckled nose became an obsessive focus, a goal that drove him forward through the darkness.

Whoosh--

The sudden explosion of brilliant white light assaulted Harry's dark-adjusted eyes as they emerged from the passage. Having been running full-tilt in near-complete darkness, the transition left him stumbling and disoriented.

This momentary weakness gave Hermione her chance – she finally closed the gap, practically falling through the opening behind the humpbacked witch statue. Her usual appearance was replaced by windswept hair and obvious tear tracks down her flushed cheeks.

Harry pressed himself against the corridor's frost-touched window, squinting through the glass at the grounds below as he waited for his vision to clear.

Hermione, still gasping for breath, lunged forward and seized his robes in a desperate grip. But Harry had already spotted his target through the window – three distant figures soaring through the air over the grounds.

With a violent twist, he wrenched his robes free from Hermione's grasp, his movements driven by single-minded purpose as he prepared to race downstairs.

"What are you trying to do, Harry!" Hermione threw herself between Harry and his path to the stairs, with her arms spread wide like a human barrier.

When Harry spoke, his voice came out in a tone he had never used with Hermione before – harsh, cold, and brittle as winter ice.

"Move aside, Hermione. I'm going to find Ron Weasley and rearrange his face. And if I'm lucky, maybe I'll crack open that thick skull of his and see just how many ridiculous ideas are floating around in that empty head!"

"Don't do this, Harry!" Hermione pleaded in desperation. "Sirius only wanted you to talk to him properly--"

"Oh, I'll talk to him alright!" Harry's voice rose to a shout that echoed off the stone walls. "But only after his nose matches Fleur Delacour's. Maybe then his head will be clear enough for a proper conversation!"

When Harry was truly determined, there was no force at Hogwarts that could hold him back – not even Hermione's pleadings.

What followed was a chaotic chase through the castle's corridors, past startled portraits and shocked students. Harry moved like a man possessed, taking the marble staircase two and three steps at a time before he burst through the heavy oak doors onto the misty grounds.

There, on the Quidditch pitch, Ron was soaring through the air with Seamus and Dean, he was riding Harry's Firebolt, while Seamus and Dean struggled to keep up on their considerably slower Cleansweep brooms. Despite the dreary weather and fine mist that hung in the air like a silver veil, all three seemed to be having the time of their lives as their laughter was carrying across the grounds like a personal insult to Harry's pain.

"GET DOWN!" Harry's furious voice tore through the peaceful scene like lightning. He drew his wand with speed, sending a brilliant red spark screaming into the sky. "GET DOWN, WEASLEY!"

The sudden explosion of noise and light shattered the trio's in-flight rhythm, nearly causing a mid-air collision as they turned sharply in surprise. Upon spotting Harry on the ground below, they exchanged concerned glances before Ron reluctantly guided the Firebolt down.

"What's wrong?" Ron's voice carried a forced casualness as he glanced between Seamus and Dean, who were landing behind him, and then to Harry and the clearly distressed Hermione, who had finally caught up, bent over and was gasping for breath.

Harry remained silent, his eyes blazing as they fixed on Seamus and Dean. The two boys didn't need legilimency to read the situation – Harry's fury was palpable, and Hermione's frantic gestures behind his back made it clear they needed to leave.

"We forgot about lunch--" Dean said with obviously manufactured surprise, slapping his forehead in an exaggerated gesture. He shot Seamus a meaningful look, and both boys quickly left.

"What's this all about?" Ron's attempt at confusion couldn't mask the underlying anxiety in his voice. His eyes kept darting to Hermione, who stood with her head bowed, unable or unwilling to meet his gaze. And something about Harry's stance made it impossible for Ron to maintain eye contact with him.

Now that the moment of confrontation had arrived, Harry found his rage momentarily tempered by the reality of facing his friend. The desire to physically lash out still burned beneath his skin, but the words he had rehearsed in his mind seemed to evaporate like the mist surrounding them.

"Didn't you go to see Sirius?" Ron finally forced himself to look at Harry directly, though a flash of unease crossed his face before he quickly looked away again.

"Yeah!" Harry's response came out in sharp, clipped bursts between heavy breaths. "Thanks to him, I finally understood some things... like how you've always wanted an ugly scar on your forehead too!"

"Harry, please don't--" Hermione's voice was barely a whisper as she poked his side, her lower lip trembled as fresh tears began to spill from her eyes.

The color drained from Ron's face as though he'd seen a ghost, his pupils contracted as fear began to conceal the defensive light in his eyes.

His reaction sent conflicting emotions coursing through Harry – a twist of guilt quickly followed by a surge of vindictive satisfaction.

Truth be told, he hadn't been having an easy time lately. Hermione had been chosen as the Triwizard champion, and many theories suggested this wasn't just a prank but a carefully planned conspiracy. He'd been worried about this constantly, and Ron... he had thought Ron would be just as concerned, perhaps even more so than himself, but the reality turned out to be completely different!

"Don't understand, do you?" Harry's fists were clenched so tight his knuckles had turned white, and his eyes bored into Ron's pale face. "What were you really thinking about Hermione becoming champion!"

Hermione's lower lip was bleeding slightly from biting it. She hugged herself and turned away, not wanting Harry and Ron to see her tears.

Ron's face had moved beyond pale to ashen, looking as though all the blood had been completely drained from his body. His eyes fixed on the Firebolt in his hands with such intensity it seemed he was considering making a desperate aerial escape from this confrontation.

"What's wrong, got nothing to say?" Harry's words came out between heavy breaths, dripping with bitter satisfaction. "Perhaps you've finally realized what a fool and idiot you've been!"

"I'm not a fool!" Ron's head snapped up suddenly, his eyes meeting Harry's with unexpected ferocity. Gone was the evasion, replaced by raw anger as he roared, "And I'm not an idiot!"

*******************************

For More Chapters; patreon.com/FicFrenzy

コメント 1のコメント

投票